% ^ ■-/ -•' c 71. Ck*.*-/^ IV^ » » ■y J > J J « ft • • • • c • • • • . • • • • • • < y- >?%:^ -^^ /S-TAT 60 'CHRISTOPHER NORTH' A MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON LATE PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINRURGH COMPILED FKOM FAMILY PAPERS AND OTHER SOURCES BY HIS DAUGHTER MRS GORDON i^cto ^bi'tion EDINBURGH THOMAS C. JACK, GRANGE PUBLISHING WORKS LONDON : HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO. 1879 fR PREFACE. I HAVE with much misgiving taken upon myself the duty of writing a memoir of Professor Wilson, believing that my father's life was worthy of being recorded, and that it would bear to be truthfully told. I was well aware of the great difficulties attending its performance, and they proved not less than I S* anticipated ; and I knew that I rendered myself liable to the V charge of presumption in undertaking a task declined by abler 5c^ hands. But I could not give up my persuasion that an imperfect ^ picture of such a man was better than none at all, and in that -^ conviction I have done what I could. "^ The many-sided character of the man I have not attempted to unfold ; nor have I presumed to give a critical estimate of his works, — they must speak for themselves. Now and then, in the course of the narrative, where letters are introduced referring to literary subjects, I have made a few observations on his writings; but in no other way, with the exception of those chapters devoted to BlackwooiV s Magazine and the Moral Philosophy chair, ha\'e 1 departed from my original intention of giving a simple domestic memoir. If I have in any way done justice to my fathers memory in this respect, I am rewarded. I have availed myself of the letters of my father's principal correspondents, so far as they served to throw light on the main subject, or were in themselves interesting and characteristic. I trust, in doing so, that I have inserted nothing calculated to displease or give j)ain to any now living. If I have erred in this or other respects, my inexperience in literary work must be my excuse. I have spoken of the difficulties that I had to encounter. It is now my pleasing duty to thank the friends who have so kindly M o ''"* on — Mr Robert Sym — James Hogg — Mystifications — Leigh Hunt and Sir J. G. Dalyell — More Mystificaiioji — Dr. James Scott, 7 Miller Street, Glasgow, COiVTEiXTS. vii PAGB alias The Odoniist— Captain Paloii's Lamtnt— The Dilettanti Club— Letters from Mrs Wilson to her Sister Miss Penny on the Ma<;azine — Knsijjn O'Doherty — A Magazine Row, etc. — The S vie of Criticism adopted— Letter to Professor Laugner — The Attack upon Professor Playfair — 111 Results — Hypocrisy Unveiled — Cor- respondence witli the Author— Letter from Mr Morehead^Letter to Mr Morehead — Letter irom Jeffrey, vindicating the Edinburgh .^^z^/Vti:' fiom the Charge of Infidelity, 167-213 CHAPTER IX. MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR— 182O. Removes to Ann Street— Sir lleniy Raeburn— Sir John Watson Gordon— Sir William Allan — Death of Dr Thomas Brown — An- nounces himself as a Candidate for the Chair of Moral Philosophy — Sir William Hamilton — Fierce opposition by the Whig party- Letters Irom Ahs Wilson on the struggle — Letters to Rev. J. Fleming and Mrs Grant of Laggan for a Certificate as to Charac- ter — Mrs Grant's reply — Letter from Sir Walter Scott — His Elec- tion — Letter from Mrs Wilson on her husband's success — Letter to Mr Smith — Preparations for his Lectures — Correspondence with Dr Blair — A Fancy Sketch of the new Professor in his Study — Correspondence with Blair— Opening Lecture of his First Course, 214-242 CHAPTER X. THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. His Syllabus— The Professor in his Sporting Jacket— Adventure in Hawick — "A little Mill" — Makes two Students at home in Ann .Street — The Profe-sor and his '• Children " at St. Mary's Loch- Mr Hill Burton's Reminiscences of the winter of 1S30 — A market- day at Tarland — A kind Teacher— A Dinner at Gloucester Place — His Class — Saturday — A Snow-ball Riot— Any Old Clothes? — " Sir Peter Nimmo " and the poet W^ord.sworth — Dr Syntax — A "Conservative" Meeting — Politics in the Class— Rev. Mr Smith's Recollections of 1837 — As a Lecturer — His Course for 1S37-183S — Illustration, the Love of Power — Plis Power as an Orat( r — ''The Demosthenes of Ireland" — An Episode in the C'lass-Room — His Care and Industry in Examining the Students' I-.ssays — His Kindness to them privately — The Session for 1S50- 1S51— Mr A. Taylor Innes—" Professor Wilson's Gold Medal" — The Origin of the Moral Faculty — His Appearance in the Class- Room — An Unmannerly Student, 243-273 CHAPTER XI. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE — 182O-26. Lays from Fairy- Land — Devotion to the Magazine, and Friendship lor Ml- Blackwood — Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life — A vi,; CONTENTS. Summer in Elleray once more — Letter from Mr Blackwood— Let- ter from Mr Lockhart on Mr Leigli Hunt — The Gormandising Scliool of Eloquence — Miss Edgeworth, etc. etc. — Tom Purdie — Willie Laidlaw, etc. — Letters from Mr Blackwood regarding the Magazine — Another Summer at EUeray — Letter from Mr Black- wood — Letters from Mr Lockhart— The People he met in Lon- don — Edward Irving's Preaching described — Party Politics — Literary Gossip — Old Slop and tiie Neiv Times — A Daily Paper at the Breakfast-table, etc. — Letter from De Quincey — Hill on Education — The "Breeches" Review— " A Confession" — Acci- dent to Mrs Wilson — Letter to Mr R. Findiay — Death of Mrs Wilson, senior — Letter from Principal Baird — Removal to Glou- cester Place — The Proposed Chair of Political Economy — Letters from Mr Patrick Robertson, Mr Huskisson, Mr Canning, and Sir Robert Peel on the subject — Literary Work — Projected " Out- lines" — Correspondence ot Mr Lockhart and Mr Wilson on "Janus" — Letters from Mr Lockhart on Sir Walter's visit to EUeray — Letter from Professor Jameson — Letter from Mr Lock- hart on Canning — W. Maginn — Letter from Mr Blackwood — Letter to Delta on " Janus " — Illness of Mrs Wilson — Letter from Mr Lockhart, on becoming Editor of the Quarterly Review — Work during 1826 — Letters to Mrs Wilson from Kendal — Colonsay, 274-319 CHAPTER XIL LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE — 1827-29. As a Friendly Criiic — Letter to Deka^Views on Free Trade — " Mansie Waugh," etc. — Notes to Mr Ballantyne — Innerleithen — Letter to ^Ir Fleming, Rayrig, on "Christopher North," etc. — Letters to Mrs Wilson — Hartley Coleridge — Contributions for 1828 — Letters from Allan Cunningham, regarding "The Anniver- sary," " Edderline's Dream," etc. — Mrs Wilson to Miss Penny — "Evening at Furness Abbey" — Letter from James Hogg, de- clining an invitation to EUeray — Letter to Mr Fleming — Letter from Thomas Carlyle — Letter from Mr Lockhart — Contest for Oxford University, 1829 — Letter to De Quincey, on his Sketch of the Professor — Thomas De Quincey — Affection for him — His visit to Gloucester Place, 320-351 CHAPTER XIII. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE — CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON — 1 830-32. Home Life in Gloucester Place — Letters to Mrs Wilson from Penny Bridge and Westmoreland — Homeric Papers — Letter from Sotheby — Letter from Miss Watson — A Conservative Meeting and Liberal Commentary — Criticism on Tennyson — Letter to Mrs Wilson on his Cruise with the Experimental Squadron — London — Greenwich CONTENTS. ix PAf;s — H.M.S. tlie "Vernon"— Sheemess— On Board the "Vernon" — A Sailor's Death at Sea— Plymouth — The "Campeadora" — The "Vernon" — Holystoning — Off the Lizard — Land's End — Cork — London and Home, ........ 352-3S4 CHAPTER XIV. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE — 1832-37. Letter from an Author to a Critic — Political Feeling — Paper on Ebenezer Elliot, and Letter from him — " Come and break a ton " of iron — Letter from Mr Audubon — From Rev. James White of Bonchurch — Letters to James Hogg — "The Shepherd's Recon- ciliaiinn'' — An Autumn in Ettrick — Rover and the Witch — Pets — A Dog Fight — ThirKtane Castle — Letters to Mrs Wilson from Edinburgh — -Mr Blackwood's Illness and Death — Letters from the Clyde to Mrs Wilson — Public Dinner at Paisley — Last Letter from Mrs Wilson to her Sister — Illness and Death of Mrs Wilson, 385 410 CHAPTER XV. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE — 1837-44. Depression of Spirits — Life at Roslin — Marriage of his Daughters — His main work that of a Teacher — His little ways at Home — Pets — The Sparrow — His Dogs : Bronte — -Tory — Grog — Game Birds — A new Coop — A Note to Delta on the Dispersion of his Aviary — Work for the Vear — Letiers to Mr Aird on Burns — Had Burns Family Worship at Dumfries? — The Professor's Study — Writmg for Blackwood — Habits of Composition — Letter to Mr Findlay from Rothesay — Cladich — A Fairy's Funeral — Letter to his Daughter, describing Billholm — Review of Macaulay's Lays — Letter to Dr Moir, 4II-436 CHAPTER XVL LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE — 1 844-48. Characteristic Letters from John Gibson Lockhart — The Kemp Ab-urdity — Maga — Novel-Reading, etc.- Letter to his son John on Domestic Matters — "The Kemp Affair" — W'alking Feats — The Burns Festival — Letter to Sheriff Gordon — Letters from Sergeant Talfourd, excusing himself from attendance at the " Festival"— Letter to Aird — Letter to his daughter Jane — Fishing in the Dochart — Letter to his daughter Jane — Maga Articles resumed in 1845 — British Critics — Elleray — Letter to Sheriff" Gordon, asking him to edit an Article of his for Blackwood — Opening of Edinburgh Philosophical Listitulion, of which he was elected President — Melancholy Reflecti-ns — Letter to Mr Findlay, requesting his jiresence at the Marriage of his son John X CONTRA TS — Visit to the newly-married Pair — Resolves not to return to Elleray — Weakness in the Hand, writes consequently with difficulty — Byron's "Address to the Ocean" — Peculiariti s of Dress — Still in Mourning for his Wife — A Street Scene — A Carter defeated — Humanity to Animals — Visits to London — Sitting for a Portrait — Conversational Powers — Reminiscences of Social Meetings — Jeffrey's Receptions — Lord Robertson — The Professor's Songs — Sailor's Life at Sea — Auld Lang Syne — " A Quaint Ballad," . 437- 46^? CHAPTER XVn. CLOSING YEAR2 — 1 849-54. " Dies Boreales " — Rituals of tlie Church — The Scottish Service — Marriage of his youngest Daughter to Professor Aytoun — Playful ways — Toilet peculiarities — His Watch — Hat — Snuff-Box — Gloves, etc. etc. — Horror of Gas — Love of Children — Letter to his second son Blair, mentioning " Billy's" Death — Letter to his son Blair — The "Dear Doctor" — From College Duties on account of 111 Health — Illness — Desire to return to his Labours — Excursion to the Highlands in search of Health — Passion for Angling — Visit to his Brother at Woodburn — Determines to retire from Active Life — Letter from the Lord Advocate to Sheriff Gordon, conveying the news of the Grant of a Pension of ;^300 per annflm — Letter from Lord John Russell to the Lord Advo. ate, desiring him to have the Queen's intenliuns mentioned to Wilson — Receives the News — Letter of Acknowledgment to Lord John Russell — Takes up his abode at Woodburn — Last Papers for Magazine — Step feeble and unsteady — Letter to his son Blair, thanking him for supplies of Books — Macauiay a Candidate for the Representation of Edinburgh — Comes to Edinburgh and Votes for Macauiay — Letter from Macauiay to Sheriff Gordon expressing his kindly feelings towards the Professor — Last Visit of Mr Lockbart — Letter to Robert Findlay, congratulating him on the Marriage of his Son — At Gloucester Place again — The last Christmas — Seized with a Shock of Paralysi; — Rapid Decline — The End, . . 465-496 APPENDIX. Public Funtral and Proposed Statue, 497 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Portrait — from a Photograph, . (frontispiece.) An Old Hand at the Cockpit, Oxford, '•The Strictures of the Edin- burgh Review, considered at a Private J^Ieeting of the Caput," The Cottage at Elleray The Professor and Mr Patrick Robertson,^ . Mr Patrick Robertson, The " Leopard," The '• Scorpion," A Scotch Minister, A Scotch Judge, Mr Gibson Lockhart, The Odontist, Drs Corkindale and Cleghorn, Supposed Author of " Hypocrisy Unveiled," . Sir William Hamilton, ART I.' T. D. O. HILL. ENGRAVER. PAGB R. C. BELL. J. G. lockhart. J. ADAM. 50 DO. DO. 59 . NAYSMITH. DO. 87 . A. CHRISTIE. E LAN DELLS 163 . PROF. E. FORBES. J. ADAM. 165 , J. G. LOCKHART. DO. iSi DO. DO. 182 DO. DO. 185 DO. DO. 186 DO. DO. 189 DO. DO. 196 DO. DO. 198 1 DO. DO. 205 DO. DO. 219 1 This cut was originally inserted in Mr. James Wilson's Voyag^e round Scotland. 1 am ind'bted for the use of it to the kindness of Messrs. A. and C. Bl._st, less 14 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSOM". eager, were we to hear the cushat's moan from his yew-tree — to see the hawk's shadow on the glade, as he hung aloft on the sky. A thousand dead thoughts came to life again in the gloom of the woods — and we sometimes did wring our hands in an agony of grief, to know that our eyes should not behold the birch-tree brightening there with another spring. " Then every visit we paid to cottage or to shieling was felt to be a farewell ; there was something mournful in the smiles on the sweet faces of the ruddy rustics, with their silken snoods, to whoin we used to whisper harmless love-meanings, in which there was no guile ; we regarded the solemn toil-and-care-worn countenances of the old with a profounder emotion than had ever touched our hearts in the hour of our more thoughtless joy; and the whole life of those dwellers among the woods, and the moors, and the mountains, seemed to us far more affecting now that we saw deeper into it, in the light of a melancholy sprung from the conviction that the time was close at hand when we should mingle with it no more. The thoughts that possessed our most secret bosom failed not by the least observant to be discovered in our open eyes. They who had liked us before, now loved us ; our faults, our follies, the insolences of our reckless boyhood, were all forgotten ; whatever had been our sins, pride towards the poor was never among the number; we had shunned not stoopir^g our head beneath the humblest lintel ; our mite had been given to the widow who had lost her own ; quarrelsome Avith the young we might sometimes have been, for boyhood is soon heated, and boils before a defying eye ; but in one thing at least we were Spartans — we revered the head of old age. " And many at last were the kind — some the sad farewells, ere long whispered by us at gloaming among the glens. Let them rest for ever silent amidst that music in the memory which is felt, not heard — its blessing mute though breathing, like an inarticulate prayer ! " GLASGOW COLLEGE. ^5 CHAPTER II. GLASGOW COLLEGE. 1 797- 1803. '♦ Long, long, long ago, the time when we danced hand in hand with our golden-haired sister ! Long, long, long ago, the day on which she died ; the hour, so far more dismal than any hour that can now darken us on this earth, when her coffin descended slowly, slowly into the horrid clay, and we were borne, death-like, and wishing to die, out of the churchyard, that from that moment we thought we could never enter more." That touching reminiscence of his golden-haired sister, which came back among the visions of a merry Christinas long after,* points to what was probably John Wilson's first deep experience of sorrow; and it is no imaginary picture of the scene it recalled. For even in those early years, and still more as life advanced, he was intensely susceptible to emotions of grief, as well as of gladness. A heavier trial awaited him at the threshold of the new life on which he was to enter after leaving the manse of Mearns in his twelfth year. He had seen the yellow leaves fall, on to the close of that last memorable autumn which finished his happy school-time, and now he was summoned home to see his father die. As he stood at the head of the grave, chief mourner, and heard the dull earth rattling over the coffin, his emotions so overcame him that he fell to the ground in a swoon, and had to be carried away. Such an effect, on a frame more than commonly robust, indicated a depth of feeling and passion not often seen in our cHme among boys, or, in its outer manifestations at least, among men. The aspect and the character of Wilson have sometimes suggested to the imagination those blue-eyed and • "Christmas Dreams," Works, vol. x. p. z86. t6 memoir of JOHN WILSO.V. long-haired Norsemen, who made their songs amid the smiting of swords, who were as swift of foot and strong of arm, as they were skilled in lore and ready in counsel, fierce to their enemies, tender and true to their friends. And this little incident reminds one more of what we read in Sagas of that passionate vehemence of theirs, than anything we are accustomed to now-a-days. After the death of his father he appears to have gone immediately to Glasgow University, where he entered as a student in the Latin Class for the session 1797-98, attending other classes in due course down to 1803. During those years he resided in the family of Professor Jardine, the same prudence winch had dictated the choice of his earlier instructors, being here agam conspicuous, and the results not less satisfactory. His life in Glasgow was a hapj^y one ; and under the combined influences of admirable professorial mstruction, and a free enjoyment ot good society and innocent pleasuies, his character developed by natural and insensil^le tran- sition from boyhood to youth, from the period of school lessons and " Aluckle-mou'd Meg" to that ot essay-writing and speech- making, of first love and "lines to Margaret." Of the various professors under whom he studied, there were two who won his special love and lifelong veneration : these were Jardine and Young.* When the relationship between pupil and teacher has been cemented by feelings of respect and affection, the influence obtained over the young mind is one that does not die with the breaking of the ties that formally bound them. Of this Wilson's own experience as a professor afforded him many a delightful illustration. To Jardine, in the first place, as not only his teacher, but his private monitor and friend, he owed, he has himself said, a deep debt of gratitude. He is represented as having been " a person who, by the singular felicity of his tad in watching youthful minds, had done more good to a whole host of individuals, and gifted individuals too, than their utmost gratitude could ever adequately repay. They spoke of him as of a kind of intellectual father, to whom they were proud of acknowledging the eternal obligations of their intellectual being. He has created for himself a mighty family among whom his memory will long survive ; * The former was I io1l;.::Oi c( Logic, the latter of Greek, I CL. I SCO IV COLLEGE. 17 by whom, all that he said and did — his words of kind praise and kind censure — his giavity and his graciousness — will no doubt be dwelt upon with warm and tender words and looks, long after his earthly labours shall have been brought to a close." * Wilson's intercourse with Professor Young was of a nature equally friendly, and his reminiscences of that "old man eloquent" are not less pleasing : — "We have sat," he says, "at the knees of Professor Young, looking up to his kindling or shaded countenance, while that old man eloquent gave life to every line, till Hector and Andromache seemed to our imagination standing side by side beneath a radiant rainbow glorious on a showery heaven ; such, during his inspiration, was the creative power of the majesty and the beauty of their smiles and tears. " That was long, long ago, in the Greek class of the College of (ilasgow ; and though that bright scholar's Greek was Scotch Greek, and all its vowels and diphthongs, and some of its consonants too, especially that glorious guttural that sounds in lochs, all unlike the l^nglish Greek that soon afterwards, beneath the shadow of Magdalen Tower, the fairest of all Oxford's stately structures, was poured mellifluous on our delighted ear from the lips of President Routh, the ' erudite and the wise,' still hath the music of that ' repeated strain ' a charm to our souls, reminding us of life's morning march when our spirits were young, and when we could see even as with our bodily eyes, things far away in space or time, and Troy hung visibly before us even as the sun-setting clouds. Therefore, till death, shall we love the Sixth Book of the Iliad; and, if we understand it not, then indeed has our whole life been vainer than the shadow of a dream." t A somewhat similar account of this interesting man from another source, is worthy of insertion here : — " I own I was quite thunderstruck to find him passing from a trans- port of sheer verbal ecstasy about the particle «»«, into an ecstasy quite as vehement, and a thousand times more noble, about the deep pathetic beauiy of one of Homer's conceptions in the expres * Blackwood, July 1818. •<• "Homer and his Translators," Works, vol. vtii. pp. 36, 37. 1 8 MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSO.V. sion of which that particle happens to occur. Such was the burst of his enthusiasm, and the enriched mellow swell of his expanding voice, when he began to touch upon this more majestic key, that I dropped for a moment all my notions of the sharp philologer, and gazed on him with a higher delight, as a genuine lover of the soul and spirit which has been clothed in the words of antiquity. " At the close of one of his fine excursions into this brighter field, the feelings of the man seemed to be rapt up to a pitch I never before beheld exemplified in any orator of the Chair. The tears gushed from his eyes amidst their fervid sparklings, and I was more than delighted when I looked round and found that the fire of the Professor had kindled answering flames in the eyes of not a few of his disciples." * It may be seen from these sketches what manner of men had the moulding of that young taste in its perception of the good and beautiful. Nor could his mind fail to have been ennobled by such training. It was the means of encouraging him to cultivate the literary taste, which, in addition to the more severe routine of his studies, aided to make his memory a storehouse of knowledge, rendering him even as a boy one of the most desirable companions with his seniors. Of the characteristic mixture of work and play which enabled him to be both an active and distinguished student, and a vivacious racer and dancer, there is fortunately some slight record extant under his own youthful hand, in the pages of a little brown memo- randum-book, in which he carefully noted the chief transactions of each day from the ist of January to the 26th October 1801. A very interesting and curious relic it is, if only for the light it throws on that beautiful portrait by Raeburn, now in the National Gallery, Edinburgh, which has probably disappointed so many people as a representation of young Christopher North. That slender youth, so tidily dressed in his top-boots and well-fitting coat, wdth face so placid, and blue eyes so mild, looking as if he never could do or say anything outre or startling, — can that be a good picture of him we have seen and heard of as the long-maned and mighty, whose eyes were " as the lightnings of fiery fiame," and his voice like an * Peter's Letters. GLASGOW COLLEGE. 19 organ bass ; who laid about him, when the fit was on, Hke a Titan, breaking small men's bones ; who was loose and careless in liis apparel, even as in all things b,e seemed too strong and primitive to heed much the niceties of custom ? So people ask and think who knew not Professor Wilson, save out of doors or in print, and who imagine that he could never have been otherwise than as they saw him in manhood or age. But true it is, that that gentle-looking cavalier represents the John Wilson in whom the deep fires of passion and hidden riches of imagination lay still comparatively quiescent and undeveloped. For that youth, though he is a bold horseman and a matchless leaper, as well as a capital scholar and a versifier to boot, has not yet had his nature stirred by that whi( li will presently make him talk of life as either bliss ineffable, or wretchedness insufferable. The man whom we know in after-life jotting down his lectures on old backs of letters, illegible sometimes to himself, at this time keeps a neat and punctual diary, with its ink rulings for month, and week, and day, and ;£ s ^/, all done by his own hand; the one page containing, under the heading "Aj)- pointments, Bills, Memorandums," notes of each day's events, with the state of the weather at the week's end ; the other, its careful double entry of "Received" and "Paid," duly carried over from page to page \ and the expenditure in no single instance exceeding the income. It is altogether an illustration of character that might surprise the uninitiated even more than Raeburn's portrait. As has been said, labour and pleasure seem not unequally to have divided his time. Invitations to dinner, balls, parties, etc., are frequently chronicled. A boy of sixteen might be supposed to be somewhat prematurely introduced to those social amenities. But in his case, the thing does not seem to have been unnatural, or other than beneficial. No doubt, his personal attractions, and a stature above his years, combined with the knowledge of his good prospects in hfe, made hun an object of more attention than would otherwise have been the case. In the heart of this gaiety, too, there are indications of marked attention to the ordinary but too often neglected minor duties of society. He makes frequent visits of politeness ; he writes regularly to his mother and sisters ; hiv respect to his grandmother and other relatives is undeviating, for to MEMO//? OF joiL\' ivnsoy. upon tlie old lady he waits daily. Order and punctuality in fart seem to regulate his minutest affairs, — the more worthy of remark, as in later years these praiseworthy habits were almost entirely laid aside. It will perhaps not be altogether without interest to insert one or two of the entries from this pocket-book, even though monotonous, and to a certain extent unimportant, alluding to names of persons, the mention of which, save to a very few, will scarcely awaken any familiar associations. The season has begun at hom>. in Edinburgh, where his mother, with the rest of the family, had now taken up her residence. A happy band of brothers and sisters, and other relatives, there met together to welcome in the New-year. So, for a while, the dingy walls of Glasgow College, and its eight o'clock morning lectures, were shut out from thought, and the bright-hearted boy rejoiced with his friends. Before quoting from the Memorandum-book its brief record of those days, which gleams out from the past like light seen from an aperture for the first time, let us hear him in maturer years recalling the memory of such scenes : — " Merry Christmases they were indeed ; one Lady always pre- siding, with a figure that once had been the stateliest among the stately, but then somewhat bent, without being bowed down, beneath an easy weight of most venerable years. Sweet was her ' tremulous voice to all her grandchildren's ears. Nor did those solemn eyes, bedimmed into a pathetic beauty, in any degree restrain the glee that sparkled in orbs that had as yet shed not many tears, but tears of joy or pity. " Whether we were indeed all so witty as we thought ourselves — uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, cousins, and ' the rest,' it might be presumptuous in us, who were considered by ourselves and a few others not the least amusing of the whole set, at this distance of time to decide — especially in the affirmative ; but how the roof did ring Avith sally, pun, retort, and repartee ! Ay, with pun — a species of impertinence for which we have there- fore a kindness even to this clay. Had incomparable Thomas Hood had the good fortune to have been born a cousin of ours, how with that fine fancy of his would he have shone at those Christmas festivals, eclipsing us all ! Our family, through all it«; GLASGOIV COLLEGE. 21 different branches, has ever been famous for lad voices, but goutl ears : and we think \vt hear ourselves — all those uncles and aunts, nephews and nieces, and cousins — singing now ! Easy is it to 'warble melody' as to breathe air. But we hope harmony is the most difficult of all things to people in general, for to us it w;\5 impossible ; and what attempts ours used to be at seconds ! Wx the most woeful failures were rapturously encored ; and ere the night was done we spoke with most extraordinary voices indeed, every one hoarser than another, till at last, walking home with a fair cousin, there was nothing left for it but a tender glance of the eye — a tender pressure of the hand — for cousins are not altogether sisters, and although partaking of that dearest character, possess, it may be, some peculiar and appropriate charms of their own ; as didst thou, Emily the 'Wild-cap !'" ist of January 1801. — Union wuth Ireland celebrated; Castle guns fired ; no illumination. Called on Mr Sym [Timothy Tickler of a later date]. '■'■ 2d of /anuary.—BzW at our house; danced with the Misses M 'Donald, Corbett, Fairfax, Chartres, Balfour, Brown, Lundie, Millar, Young." Not too long is he to be absent from work. On the 4th of January the gaieties of home are left, and he takes a seat in the " Telegraph." " Left Edinburgh at seven in the morning ; arrived in Glasgow safe, and dined with my grandmother." Items of travelling expenses make a curious comparison between the past and present cost for a similar journey : — " For a seat in the ' Telegraph,' j£i, is. *' For the driver and guard of ' Telegraph,' 4s. " For breakfast and waiter, is. 6d." With his grandmother he was a great favourite. This lady, Mrs Sym, lived to a good old age, as did also her husband ; he being above ninety when he died. The old gentleman had considerable character, and not a little caustic humour ; a quality that may be said to have pervaded the Sym family. A story is told of his having sent a note to his wine-merchant on receipt of ajar of rum, which he fancied had had more than the ordinary dilution, begging 22 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. him to be so obliging, on his next order, as to send the water in one jar and the rum in another. His wife was a gentle, kind woman, and very attractive to young people, to whom she was ever ready to show attention and hospitality. She was very handsome in her youth, " stateliest among the stately," as Wilson has called her. In one of her daughter's letters, written five-and-thirty years later, there is a reminiscence of these early days : — "Occasionally you and some other boys getting a Saturday's dinner, a good four-hours^ and being dismissed with — ' Now you will all go away ; you have gotten all your dues ; and, besides, Fm weary of you! Then, as you advanced in your academic career, came Jamie Smith, Wee Willy Cumin', Alick Blair, sounding out ' Ohon a ree! ohon a ree!'' Your grandmother ready dressed at her wheel in the parlour, your aunts at their work, Blair announced in the dining-room, and me the only one who would join him. On entering, I find him groping in the press and hozuking out a book, part of which was read with his peculiar burr."* Many a charmed spot is mentioned in this diary. The name of Hallside, Professor Jardine's residence, is specially associated with reminiscences of pleasant society and light-hearted diversions, which show how well philosophy and geniality agreed together under that hospitable roof. The following is a specimen : — " 2T,d March. — Ran for a wager three times round the garden ; accomplished it in nine minutes and a quarter. Won 5s." Hallside is a modern house, somewhat in the style of a Scottish manse. The grounds were about seventy acres in extent, gradually sloping to the east, and bounded in part by the river Calder. On the opposite banks stood the pretty cottage ornee of Mrs Jardine's brother, Mr Lindsay, whose wife was the niece of the celebrated Dr Reid, the metaphysician. Their only child was a beautiful girl, * The writer of this letter, Miss Catherine Sym, long known in Glasgow as one of its most original characters, was the only unmarried daughter of Mr and Mrs Sym. She was perhaps one of the wittiest women of her time, in that dry way so peculiar to Scottish nature. Before she died, not many years ago, at eighty years of age, she returned to her nephew a correspondence, and many juvenile manuscripts that had passed between them in the days of his boyhood. Not long before his death he destroyed those papers, which, had they been e.xtant, might have supplied some interesting materials for this part of the Memoir. GLASGOW COLLEGE. 2, -5 whom Professor Wilson took in after years as model for the heroine of his Trials of Mari^ard Lindsay. The charms of this agreeable neighbourhood were heightened by the beauty of the situation. Calder Bank, I\Ir Lindsay's residence, commanded a fine view ol Bothwell woods and castle, the grey towers of which contrasted well with the dark spreading trees that faced the ruins of Blantyre Priory, beautifying the banks of the Clyde. Often did K'lui Wilson and his companions from college visit those enticing scenes, and pleasant it is to find, after a lapse of sixty-one years, a memory fresh and distinct of these happy days. The "Margaret Lindsay" of that time, now Mrs Palmes, says :— "My knowledge of your talented father was almost confined to the period of childhood; but I well remember my own delight when the fair-haired, animated boy was my companion by the Calder, in races on Dychmont Hill, on foot or with our ponies. Whatever he did was done with all his soul, whether in boy's play or in those studies appointed him by my uncle. Professor Jardine. His beam ing countenance and eager manner showed his deep interest in ah he did. " I recollect suffering from his purchase of a viohn. My room was under his, and during the night and early morning hours he devoted himself to bringing out the most discordant sounds ; for as he would not have a master, the difficulties to be overcome only proved an atlditional charm. The final result of his musical taste 1 do not remember. Poetry probably succeeded, for even at that early age he wrote liitle poems (long before the ' Isle of Palms'), some of which I hope were preserved." From his journal is to be seen he purchased other instruments besides a violin : — ^^ February V)th. — Got a flute and music-book to learn. " \oth. — Began to learn the flute by myself ^^ March nth. — Patterson came to-day. Like Patterson pretty well ; agreed with him for sixteen lessons. Terms, a guinea. Bought and paid a German flute. " 1 2//z.— Played a duet with Perkins." There is no further mention in Diary or elsewhere of this musical taste being carried out, although his i)laying on the flute at Elleray 24 MEMOIR OF JOH.Y IV I ISO V. long years after, is a circumstance which inclines one to beheve that he continued some practice on this instrumei t after leaving College. He was, however, a devoted lover of music, both vocal and instrumental, though always preferring the former. His singing was charming, uncultivated as it was by study ; no one could listen to it without admiration or a touched heart. His voice was ex- quisitely sweet,* which, combined with the pathos he infused into every note, and e.xpressed in each word, made the pleasure of hearing him a thing to be reme.nbered for ever. His manner of singing " Auld Lang Syne " may be described as a tribute of love to the memory of the poet, whose words appeared to inspire him with something beyond vocal melody ; his sweet, solemn voire filled the air with sounds that, wh'le they melted away, seemed still to linger on the ear, delighting the sense. Many are there who can remember the effect procluced by his rendering of this beautiful song. There is something very naive in the way some of his memoranda are mixed up, in humourous contrast, the important and tri\nal side by side. Thus we have in one line — "Gave Archy my buckskins to clean;" and in the next, "Prize for the best specimens of the Socratic mode of reasoning given out in the Logick," followed by " Ordered a pair of corduroy breeches, tailor, Mr Aitken ;" " Began the syllogism to-day in the Logic class," and so on. '■^February iT,th. — Called on my grandmother; went to the sale of books; had a boxing match of three rounds with Lloyd — beat him."' "14///. — General examination to-day in the Logic class;" "net examined; went to the Meams ;" "went to the sale; went to the society ; the hack 1 had an excellent trotter ; beat Fehrzyen with ease ; found a sack on the road." * " North. — Do you like my voice, James? I hope you do." "Shepherd. — I wad ha'e kent it, Mr North, on the Tower o" Babel, on the day o" the great hubbub. I think Socrates maun hae had just sic a voice. Ye canna weel ca't saft, for even in its laigh notes there is a sort o' birr ; a sort o" dirl that betokens power. Ye canna ca't hairsh, for angry as ye may be at times, it's aye in tune, frae the fineness o" your ear for music. Ye canna ca't sherp, for it's aye sae nat'ral ; and flett it could never be, gin you were even gi'en ower by the doctors. Its maist the only voice I ever heard that you can say is at ance persuasive and commanding you micht fear't, but you maun love't. — Nodes, vol, i. page 117, GLASGOIV COLLEGE. 25 The result of the sale seems to have been most satisfactory. Two entries of purchases made are such as would give delight to a boy who paid due attention to his expenditure of pocket-money : "Bought Foote's Works at the sale, 2 vols., is. 8d. ;" "also bought the Rambler, which Mr Jardine was owing me." The next item betrays a true boyish weakness, in the form of a consuming love for sweetmeats, especially of one particular sort, — thus, "For barley-sugar, 4d. ;" and at another time, "For barley- sugar at my old man's, most excellent, 6d." This taste is frequently indulged ; the sum seems to increase too, by degrees, and many a shilling was spent at Baxter's upon this favourite luxury, for which he retained his liking even in old age. During this winter his studies had been prosecuted with considerable assiduity, as may be gathered from his notes. '■'■ [anuary \-]th. — Agreed to-day with Mr Jardine to give up the Greek class, as I am too thro/ii^. " 20th. — General examination to-day ; went to the Speculative Society ; spoke as a stranger. "215A — Finished my exercise upon Logic. " 2 3<'/.— -Called upon my granilmother; gave up the Greek private, finding I had too much to do this winter. ^^ February 5///. — Finished my Socratic mode of dialogue to-day. "■April 26///. — Got the first prize in the Logic class. "J/«v \st, — Prizes distributed; got three of them." After this date there is no more allusion made to study at College, but enough has been quoted to show how he was dis])osed towards it. The rest of the summer is spent in various ways amusing to boyhood, while it is evident that the more agreeable pleasure of ladies' society was not wanting to interest him. The lasting effect of love on a boy's mind is, with most, a matter of doubt ; but where there is depth of character, and sincerity as well as strength uf feeling, the results are not always to be judged by common experi- ence. How it fared with him in this respect, will be touched upon in another chapter. One or two more extracts from the Diary before this year has closed must be given. The first is characteristic of his constant energy and movement. Even a simple walk with a friend finds 2 6 MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSO.V. him wearied with anything like delay: "Walked to Paisley with Andrew Napier ; tried him a race ; ran three miles on the Paisley road for a wager against a chaise, along with Andrew Napier; beat them both." Another exploit of a similar nature, at a somewhat later date, is related by a friend who was present on the occasion :"* — " He gained a bet by walking toe and heel three miles out and back (six miles in all) on the road to Renfrew, from the shedding of the roads to Renfrew and Paisley, in two minutes within the hour. I acconn)anied him on foot (but not under the restriction of toe and heel), and Willy Dunlop on horseback, to see that it was fairly won. Nobody could match your father in the college garden at ' hop, step, and jump.' Macleod (tlie late Rev. Dr Norman Macleod, sen.), an active Highlander from Morven, who had also the advantage of being his senior, approached most nearly to him." It appears that even in holiday-time he set himself to work. ^'•June ifth. — Finished my poem on Slavery. " ']th. — Began an essay on the Faculty of Imagination. '■'■August I'jth. — Finished the first volume of Laing's History of Scotland. '■^August ■^oth. — Made considerable progress in my essay upon Imagination ; finished the second division of my exercise. "3ijr/. — Stayed at home all day; wrote an account of the Massacre of Glencoe. ^'■September 19///. — Stayed at home all day, and wrote an essay upon the Stoical Philosophy." The notion of John Wilson having been at any time of his life an idle man, must have seemed absurd to those who knew him, though perhaps, for people who think that a hard worker must necessarily be dull and tiresome, natural enough. Even in his boyhood my father was no idler ; and there remains still more convincing proof of his assiduity and love of study to be shown in his career when at Oxford. There is yet some short time to be accounted for, spent in Glasgow ; and of his friendships formed at College, something may be said in this place. Boys generally combine themselves when at i)ublic schools, and other seminaries of education, into select coteries, and are as frequently judged by the qualities of * Mr Robert Findlay. GLASGOIV COLLEGE. 27 their companions as by their own. The very high character ol the Cilasgow professors at that time almost insured a certain number of first-class youths, especially as several of them received into their own houses young men whose education was privately, as well as in their classes, under their superintendence. Mr Alexander Blair, to whom my father dedicated an edition of his poems, was an Englishman, and with him he began, at Glasgow, an intercourse that ripened into a lifelong friendship. This gentle- man has been deterred from acquiring a prominent position in the world as a philosopher and scholar solely by the modesty and diffidence of his character. He was my father's companion both at Cilasgow and at Oxford, and in after life the Professor derived most valuable aid in his philosophical investigations from this friend, whose correspondence with him for many years was uninterru{)ted. It is much to be regretted that letters of so interestmg and elevated a character should, with one or two exceptions, have perished. Another of those early companions was Robert Findlay of Easter Hill, grandson of an accomplished and learned doctor of divinity well known and beloved in Glasgow. He, too, continued a friend until death; and from him there have come to me many treasured memorials of an affection on both sides like that of brothers. Besides these two, the most intimate associates of John Wilson in those days were Mr William Horton Lloyd, an Englishman of large fortune (whose beautiful sister married Mr Leonard Horner), Mr William Dunlop, and Archibald Hamilton, a distant relative of my father, who afterwards entered the navy, and prematurely closed his promising career in the engagement off Basque Roads. With these young men poetry was a frequent subject of discussion, and there was one poet, viz., William Wordsworth, on whose merits, then but little recognised, they found themselves unanimous. Some time before he closed his career at Glasgow University, Wilson's attention was attracted by the Lyrical Ballads, which had been recently published. There was at that time few eyes that had discerned in them the signs of future greatness. Among the earliest and most enthusiastic, but also most discriminating of their admirers, was young Wilson, who conveyed his sentiments to the poet in a letter of considerable length, written in a spirit of profound humility, ?R ^^rEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. at the same time with perfect independence of expression. Tt is as follows : "My Dear Sir,— You may perhaps be surprised to see yourself addressed in this manner by one who never had the happiness of being in company with you, and whose knowledge of your character is drawn solely from the perusal of your poems. But, sir, though I am not personally acquainted with you, I may almost venture to affirm, that the qualities of your soul are not unknown to me. In vour poems I discovered such marks of delicate feeling, such benevolence of disi)osition, and such knowledge of human nature, as made an impression on my mind that nothing will ever efface; and while I felt my soul refined by the sentiments contained in them, and filled with those delightful emotions which it would be almost impossible to describe, I entertained for you an attachment made up of love and admiration : reflection upon that delight which I enjoyed from reading your poems, will ever make me regard you with gratitude, and the consciousness of feeling those emotions you delineate makes me proud to regard your character with esteem and admiration. In whatever view you regard my behaviour in writing this letter, whether you consider it as the effect of ignorance and conceit, or correct taste and refined feeling, I will, in my own mind, be satisfied with your opinion. To receive a letter from you would afford me more happiness than any occur- rence in this world, save the happiness of my friends, and greatly enhance the pleasure I receive from reading your Lyrical Ballads. Your silence would certainly distress me ; but still I would have the happiness to think that the neglect even of the virtuous cannot extinguish the sparks of sensibility, or diminish the luxur)^ arising from refined emotions. That luxury, sir, I have enjoyed ; that luxury your poems have afforded me, and for this reason I now address you. Accept my thanks for the raptures you have occasioned me ; and however much you may be inclined to despise me, know at least that these thanks are sincere and fervent. To you, sir, mankind are indebted for a species of poetry which will continue to afford pleasure while respect is paid to virtuous feelings, and while sensibility continues to pour forth tears of rapture. The flimsy ornaments of language, used to conceal meanness of thought GLASGOIV COLLEGE. 29 and want of feeling, may captivate for a short time the ignorant and unwary, but true taste will discover the imposture, and expose the authors of it to merited contempt. The real feelings of human nature, expressed in simple and forcible language, will, on the contrary, please those only who are capable of entertaining them, and in proportion to the attention which we pay to the faithful dchneation of such feelings, will be the enjoyment derived from them. That poetry, therefore, which is the language of nature, is certain of immortality, provided circumstances do not occur to pervert the feelings of humanity, and occasion a complete revolu- tion in the government of the mind. " That your poetry is the language of nature, in my opinion, admits of no doubt. Both the thoughts and expressions may be tried by that standard. Vou have seized upon those feelings that most deeply interest the heart, and that also come within the sphere of common observation. You do not wTite merely for the pleasure of philosophers and men of improved taste, but for all who think^ for all who feel. If we have ever known the happiness arising from parental or fraternal love ; if we have ever known that delight- ful sympathy of souls connecting persons of different sex ; if we have ever dropped a tear at the death of friends, or grieved for the misfortunes of others ; if, in short, we have ever felt the more amiable emotions of human nature, — it is impossible to read your poems without being greatly interested and frequently in raptures ; your sentiments, feelings, and thoughts are therefore exactly such as ought to constitute the subject of poetry, and cannot fail of exciting interest in every heart. But, sir, your merit does not solely consist in delineating the real features of the human mind under those different aspects it assumes, when under the influence of various passions and feelings ; you have, in a manner truly admir- able, explained a circumstance, very important in its effects uj)on the soul when agitated, that has indeed been frequently alluded to, but never generally adopted by any author in tracing the progress ot emotions, — I mean that wonderful effect which the appearances of external nature have upon the mind when in a state of strong feeling. We must all have been sensible, that when under the influence o^ grief, Nature, when arrayed in her gayest attire, apj>ears 30 MEMOIR OF JOHN- WILSON. to us dull and gloomy, and that when our hearts bound with joy, her most deformed prospects seldom fail of pleasing. This dis- position of the mind to assimilate the appearances of external nature to its own situation, is a fine subject for poetical allusion, and in several poems you have employed it with a most electrifying effect. But you have not stopped here, you have shown the effect which the qualities of external nature have in forming the human mind, and have presented us with several characters whose par- ticular bias arose from that situation in which they were planted with respect to the scenery of nature. This idea is inexpressibly beautiful, and though, I confess, that to me it appeared to border upon fiction when I first considered it, yet at this moment I am convinced of its foundation in nature, and its great importance in accounting for various phenomena in the human mind. It serves to explain those diversities in the structure of the mind which have baffled all the ingenuity of philosophers to account for. It serves to overturn the theories of men who have attempted to write on human nature without a knowledge of the causes that affect it, and who have discovered greater eagerness to show their own subtlety than arrive at the acquisition of truth. May not the face of external nature thiough different quarters of the globe account for the dispositions of different nations? May not mountains, forests, plains, groves, and lakes, as much as the temperature of the atmos- phere, or the form of government, produce important effects upon the human soul ; and may not the difference subsisting between the former of these in different countries, produce as much diversity among the inhabitants as any varieties among the latter? The effect you have shown to take place in particular cases so much to my satisfaction, most certainly may be extended so far as to authorize general inferences. This idea has no doubt struck you ; and I trust that if it be founded on nature, your mind, so long accustomed to philosophical investigation, will perceive how far it may be carried, and what consequences are likely to result from it. " Your poems, sir, are of very great advantage to the world, from containing in them a system of philosophy that regards one of the most curious subjects of investigation, and at the same time one of the most important. But your poems may not be considered GLASGOiy COLLEGE. 31 merely in a philosophical light, or even as containing refined and natural feelings ; they present us with a body of morality of the purest kind. They represent the enjoyment resulting from the cultivation of the social affections of our nature ; they inculcate a conscientious regard to the rights of our fellow-men ; they show that every creature on the face of the earth is entitled in some measure to our kindness. They pro\'e that in every mind, hotvevcr depraved, there exist some qualities deserving our esteem. They point out the proper way to happiness. They show that such a thing as perfect misery does not exist. They flash on our souls conviction of immortality. Considered therefore in this view, Lyrical Ballads is, to use your own words, the book which I value next to my Bible; and though I may, perhaps, never have the happiness of seeing you, yet I will always consider you as a friend, who has by his instructions done me a service which it can never be in my power to repay. Your instructions have afforded me inexpressible pleasure; it will be my own fault if I do not reap from them much advantage. " I have said, sir, that in all your poems you have adhered strictly to natural feelings, and described what comes within the range of every person's observation. It is from following out this plan that, in my estimation, you have surpassed every poet both of ancient and modern times. But to me it appears that in the execution of this design you have inadvertently fallen into an error, the effects of w^hich are, however, exceedingly trivial. No feeling, no state of mind ought, in ray opinion, to become the subject of poetry, that does not please. Pleasure may, indeed, be produced in many ways, and by means that at first sight appear calculated to accom- l)lish a very different end. Tragedy of the deepest kind produces pleasure ol a high nature. To point out the causes of this would be foreign to the purpose. But we may lay this down as a general nile, that no description can please, where the sympathies of our ?oul are not excited, and no narration interest, where we do not enter into the feelings of some of the parties concerned. On this principle, many feelings which are undoubtedly natural, are im- proper subjects of poetry, and many situations, no less natural, incapable of being described so as to Drocluce the grand effect of 32 MEMOIR OF JOHN' IVILSOy. poetical composition. This, sir, I would apprehend, is reasonable, and founded on the constitution of the human mind. There are a thousand occurrences happening every day, which do not in the least interest an unconcerned spectator, though they no doubt occasion various emotions in the breast of those to whom they immediately relate. To describe these in poetry would be improper. Now, sir, I think that in several cases you have fallen into this error. You have described feelings with which I cannot sym- pathize, and situations in which I take no interest. I know that 1 can relish your beauties, and that makes me think that I can also perceive your faults. But in this matter I have not trusted wholly to my own judgment, but heard the sentiments of men whose feelings I admired, and whose understanding I respected. In a few cases, then, I think that even you have failed to excite interest. In the poem entitled 'The Idiot Boy,' your intention, as you inform us in your preface, was to trace the maternal passion through its more subtle windings. This design is no doubt accompanied with much difficulty, but, if properly executed, cannot fail of interesting the heart. But, sir, in my opinion, the manner in which you have executed this plan has frustrated the end you intended to produce by it ; the affection of Betty Foy has nothing in it to excite interest. It exhibits merely the effects of that instinctive feeling inherent in the constitution of every animal. The excessive fondness of the mother disgusts us, and prevents us from sympathizing with her. We are unable to enter into her feelings ; we cannot conceive ourselves actuated by the same feelings, and consequently take little or no interest in her situation. The object of her affection is indeed her son, and in that relation much consists, but then he is represented as totally destitute of any attachment towards her; the state of his mind is represented as perfectly deplorable, and, in short, to me it appears almost unnatural that a person in a stale of complete idiotism should excite the warmest feelings of attachment in the breast even of his mother. This much I know, that among all the people ever I knew to have read this poem, I never met one wlio did not rise rather displeased from the perusal of it, and the only cause I could assign for it was the one now mentioned. This liability to receive pleasure from desi riiidons such as that of 'The G LA. SCO IV COLLEGE. ZZ Idiot Boy,' is, I am convinced, founded upon established feelings of human nature, and the principle of it constitutes, as I daresay you recollect, the leading feature of Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments. I therefore think that, in the choice of this subject. you have committed an error. You never deviate from nature ; in you that would be impossible; but in this case, you have delineated feelings which, though natural, do not please, but which create a certain degree of disgust and contempt. With regard to the manner in which you have executed your plan, I think too great praise cannot be bestowed upon your talents. You have most admirably delineated the idiotism of the boy's mind, and the situations in which you place him are perfectly calculated to display it. The various thoughts that pass through the mother's mind are highly descriptive ot her foohsh fondness, her extravagant fears, and her ardent hopes. The manner in which you show how bodily sufferings are frequently removed by mental anxieties or pleasures, in the description of the cure of Betty Toy's female friend, is excessively well managed, and serves to establish a very curious and important truth. In short, everything you proposed to execute has been executed in a masterly manner. The fault, if there be one, lies in the plan, not in the execution. This poem we heard recommended as one in your best manner, and accordingly it is frequently read in this belief. The judgment formed of it is, consequently, erroneous. Many people are displeased with the performance ; but they are not careful to distinguish faults in the plan from faults in the execution, and the consequence is, that they form an improper opinion of your genius. In reading any composition, most certainly the pleasure we receive arises almost wholly from the sentiment, thoughts, and descriptions contained in it. A secondary pleasure arises from admiration of those talents requisite to the production of it. In reading ' The Idiot Boy,' all persons who allow themselves to think, must admire your talents, but they regret that they have been so employed, and while they esteem the author, they cannot help being displeased with his performance. I have seen a most excellent painting of an idiot, but it created in me inexpressible disgust. I admired the talents of the artist, but I had no other source of pleasure. The c 34 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. poem of 'The Idiot Boy' produced upon me an effect in every respect similar. I find tliat my remarks upon several of your other poems must be reserved for another letter. If you think this one deserves an answer, a letter from Wordsworth would be to me a treasure. If your silence tells me that my letter was beneath your notice, you will never again be troubled by one whom you consider as an ignorant admirer. But, if your mind be as amiable as it is reflected in your poems, you will make allowance for defects that age may supply, and make a fellow-creature happy, by dedicating a few moments to the instruction of an admirer and sincere friend, John Wilson. "Professor Jardine's, College, Glasgow, 2i,th May 1802. "William Wordsworth, Esq., Ambleside, Westmoreland, England."* * The answer to this letter will be found at page 192, vol. i., of Memoirs of W. Wordsworth, by C. Wordsworth, D.D. , 1851. For the foregoing letter I am indebted to Mr W. Wordsworth, son of the poet, who kindly sent it to me, and also pointed out the reply, which is introduced in the Memoirs without a hint as to whom it was addressed. LOVE AND POETRY, 35 CHAPTER III. LOVE AND POETRY— LIFE AT OXFORD. 1803-8. "Then, after all the joys and sorrows of these few years, which we now call transitory, but which our boyhood felt as if they would be endless — as if they would endure for ever — arose upon us the glorious dawning of another new life, — Youth, with its insupport- able sunshine and its agitating storms. Transitory, too, we now know, and well deserving the same name of dream. But while it lasted, long, various, and agonizing, as, unable to sustain the eyes that first revealed to us the light of love, we hurried away from the parting hour, and looking up to moon and stars, invocated ii sacred oaths, hugged the very heavens to our heart." These sentences contain one among many references in my father's writings to an episode in his early life, of which, had we only these incidental and sometimes imaginative allusions to guide us, no more could be said by the veracious biographer, than that, at the age when nature so ordains, this ardent and precocious youth was passionately in love. So brief and general a statement, however, would but very poorly express the realities of the case, or indicate the depth of the influence which that first overwhelming passion exerted on the whole nature of John Wilson. As he has himself said, " What is mere boy-love but a moonlight dream ? Who would weep — who would not laugh over the catastrophe of such a bloodless tragedy ? . . . But love affairs, when the lovers are full-grown men and women, though perhaps twenty years have not passed over either of their heads, are at least tragi-comedies, and, sometimes, tragedies ; closing, if not in blood, although that too, when the Fates are angry, yet in clouds that darken all future 36 MEMOIR or JOHN WILSON. life, and that, now and then, lose their sullen blackness only when dissolving, through the transient sunshine, in a shower of tears." Such a love affliir was this, now for the first time to be made known beyond a circle consisting of some three or four persons that are alive. In that note-book, already made use of, the names of two ladies frequently are noted. It may be seen that his visits to them were not paid after the fashion of formal courtesy, and that Miss W. and Miss M. had made Dychmont tc him a charmed place. Towards autumn, when walks along the banks of the Clyde begin to be delightful, these notices are of almost daily occurrence. One day he calls at Dychmont; then he drinks tea with Miss W. and Miss M. : he rides to Cumbernauld with Miss W. : "Very pleasant and agreeable ride ;" again, " drank tea at Dychmont ;" then for the next three days at home, and begins his essay " On the Faculty of Imagination ;" next evening it is again, " Drank tea at Dychmont ;" and so on through the month, — nothing but Dychmont, walking, riding, breakfasting, dining, supping, "at Dychmont," or "with Dychmont ladies" somewhere. This attractive place was but a simple farm-house, unadorned and almost homely, but the country around it was delightful. The hill, from which it takes its name, is part of the Dukedom of Hamilton, and from its summit, the valley of the Clyde, from Tinto to the mountains of the west, presents a view of great beauty. No portion of the Clyde is without beauty ; for the most part, more noble than the Rhine, with a sweep of water quite as majestic, it flows through a variety of country ever embellished by its presence. Along the banks of the Clyde and Calder were all the favourite walks of John Wilson, for there were " Hallside," " Calder Bank,'* "Millheugh," "Calderwood," and "Torrance," which, in later years, carried from Dychmont its attraction, and became the scene of joy and sorrow, deep as ever moved a young poet's heart. The occupants of Dychmont were two ladies, Miss \\\ and Margaret, as I may simply name her; the one the guardian of the other, an "orphan maid" of "high talent and mental graces," with fascination of manners sufficient to rivet the regard of a youth keenly alive to such charms. At the time of Wilson's residence in f.OVE A.VD rOElRY. 37 (Jlasgow tlif-c la'lies were tlie most intimate fri.iuls he had beyond the circle of hi.-, youthful com])anions. During winter they hved in the College Buildings, and were frequent visitors at Professor Jardine's, so that every opportunity existed for the cultivation of a friendship that gradually ripened into love, "life-deep" and passion- ate on the one side ; on the other sincere and tender, but trancjuil and self-contained, as if presaging, with woman's instinct, the eiuious barriers that were to keep their two lives from flowing into one. At the date when their acquaintance began, John Wilson had that composed and perfected manner which is a quired intuitively by the gentler sex, and gives them an advantage in society rarely possessed by boys at the same age. Thus Margaret, though no longer a school-girl, was delighted to find a companion so congenial as to excite at once her interest and friendship ; while young Wilson saw in the " orphan maid " a creature to admire and love, with all that fervour which belonged to his poetical temperament. Their occupations encouraged the growth of graceful accomplishments ; nor were their rides and walks merely pastimes of pleasure ; sterner matter arose from those early hours, and we have words of the past that make every line of this love-passage a tale of sorrow, sad enough for tears. A few years of this bright spring-tide of youth pass away, and one heart feels the gentle quiet of its womanly interest gliding insensibly and surely into something more deep and agitating, as does the dewy calm of daybreak into the fervent splendour of noon. The love of a poet is seldom so submissive as that which long ago wrote its touching confession in these words :— " Brama assai, poco spera, e nulla chiede." Trace this story further, and we see two years later that deeper feelings were brought into play ; and though the high-minded Margaret gave no assurance to her lover entitling him to regard her heart as bound to him, it is at least apparent that when, at the end of that time, he left Scotland for Oxford, their communings had been such that the heart of the young poet looked back to them as recalling memories of " unmingled bliss." There is in the essay on "Streams" an imaginative episode, manifestly /^////^('(i' on reality; but as manifestly designed to be a skilful mystification of his real ^^3 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. and unforgotten experience. As he naively \\\n\.% at the end, "there is some truth in it;" truth to this extent, undoubtedly, that in "that gloomy but ever-glorious glen," of which he speaks, young John Wilson and Margaret did meet many a time, and hold sweet converse together ; that to her sympathizing ear he poured forth the aspirations of as pure and ardent a love as ever dwelt in the breast of youth ; and that the recollection of those happy hours, and of her many modest charms, working in a nature of fiery susceptibility and earnestness, drove him afterwards, when clouds came over the heaven of his dreams, to the very brink of despair. The colouring of imagmation has transformed the picture in - Streams " into a vision of things that never were ; but there is no fiction in the description of that passion as having " stormed the citadel of his heart, and put the whole garrison to the sword," or, elsewhere, as "a life deep love, call it passion, pity, friendship, brotherly affection, all united together by smiles, sighs, and tears." Of his life, from the date last mentioned to the time of his leaving (ilasgow for Oxford, I have unfortunately no memorial in the shape of letters, his correspondence with his aunt already referred to, who was his confidante and constant correspondent throughout, having been irretrievably lost. There has come to my hands, however, a memorial of his love for Margaret, consisting of an octavo volume of " Poems" in ms., written in that fair and beautiful hand which he wrote up to the time when (it is no fancy to say so) the " fever of the soul " begins to show itself in the impetuous tracings of his pen. It is without date, but must have been written before he left Glas- gow. On the title-page, facing which are two dedicatory verses, is the inscription, " Poems on various subjects, by John Wilson, with a poetical quotation below." On the next leaf is this inscription : — TO MARGARET, THE FOLLOWING LITTLE POEMS, WHICH OWE ANY BEAUTY THEY POSSESS TO THE DELICACY OF HER FEELINGS, AND THE EMOTIONS SHE HAS INSPIRED, ARE, AS A SMALL MARK OF HIS ESTEEM AND REGARD, INSCRIBED EY HER WARMEST FRIEND AND SINCEREST ADMIKF.R TOHN WILSON, LOJ'E AND POETRY. 39 Alter this comes an elaborate Preface of thirty-eight ms. pages, which, considering that it was the composition of a youth under eighteen, is very remarkable for the ease and grace of the style, the knowledge of poetical literature, the acute critical faculty, and the judicious and elevated sentiments which it displays. This Preface, and the poetical compositions to which it is prefixed, indicate sufficiently that the person to whom they were addressed must have possessed no ordinary mental qualities, and that the relation between her and the writer was founded on a true congeniality of feeling. The poems are thirty-eight in number, including an "Answer" by Margaret to " Lines " of his. The titles copied from the table of contents, are given below.* There are few of these compositions in which there is not some fond allusion to the lady of his love, and the blissful hours spent by her side. The verses are often commonplace enough ; but the sentiments are never other than refined. The adoration is unmistakably genuine, and, though fervent, respectful ; tinged with a sense of gratitude that touches the sympathies even now. Occasionally the strain rises above mere versification into something of real poetry. I refer to this collection not because of its literary merits, but solely on account of its relation to his " Margaret," of whom, and the story of their love, more authentic accounts will be given from his correspondence. From these gentle occupations, however, Wilson was called away to new scenes and pursuits, fitted to bring forth the whole energies * Contents. — Poem on the Immortality of the Soul. Henry and Helen ; a Tale. Caledonia, or Highland Scenery. Verses to a Lady weeping at a Tragedy. The Disturbed Spirit ; a Fragment. The Song of the Shipwrecked Slave. The Prayer of the Orphan. The Fate of Beauty. Feeling at parting from a beloved object. 1 ,ines on hearing a Lady play upon the Harp. Anna; A Song. Love. Florentine. I'arental Affection. Elegy on the Death of Dr Lockhart. Lines suggested by the fate of Governor Wall. Lines addressed to the Glasgow Volunteers. Osmond ; an iniilation of M. G. Lewis. The Pains of Memory. The Sun shines bright, etc. I know some people in this world, etc. A Wish. The Child of Misfortune. Mary. To a Lady who said she was not a good judge of Poetry. Lines written at Bothwell Castle. Lines written at Cruikstone Castle. Lines written in Kenmore Hermitage. Lines written at Evening. Prince Charles's Address to his Army before the Battle of Culloden. Who to the Pomp of burnish'd gold, etc. Petition of the Mearns Muir. Lines written m a glen by moonlight. Answer to the above Lines. The feelings of l^ve. The Farewell. 40 MEMOIR OF yO/l.\' WILSO.V. of his mnnv-sided < haracter. but not of power enoucjh to deaden in his licart the recollection of that beloved glen, of Bothwell Banks, and Cruikstone's hoary walls, of Dychmont Hill, and "her the Orphan Maid, so human, yet so visionary," that made their very names dear to him for ever. "Many-towered Oxford" now summoned the young scholar away from the pleasant companionship of his Glasgow friends ; and, in the month of June 1803, he entered as a gentleman-commoner of Magdalen College. Full of life and enthusiasm, tall, strong, and graceful, quick-witted, well-read, and eloquent, of open heart and open hand, apt for all things honourable and manly, a more splen- did youth of nineteen had seldom entered the " bell-chiming and cloistered haunts of Rhedicyna." The effect produced on his mind by the ancient grandeurs of Oxford, naturally stimulated his poetical temperament, and heightened the interest of every study. For there hovered constantly around him suggestions of the high and solemn ; he felt that he was in an abode fit for great men and sages, and his soul was elevated by the contemplation of his scholastic home. Beautifully does he recall in after days the memory of that inspiring time, when, in the fulness of hope and vigour, the fields of the future opened out before him, stretching upwards to the heights of fame, a-glitter in the dew of life's mornmg ; " For having bidden farewell to our sweet native Scotland, and kissed, ere we parted, the grass and the flowers with a show of filial tears — having bidden farewell to all her glens, now a-glimmer in the blended light of imagination and memory, with their cairns and kirks, their low-chimneyed huts and their high-turreted halls, their free-flowing rivers and lochs dashing like seas — we were all at once buried not in the Cimmerian gloom, but the cerulean glitter, of Oxford's ancient academic groves. The genius of the place fell upon us. Yes .' we hear now, in the renewed delight of the awe of our youthful spirit, the pealing organ in that chapel called the Beautiful ; we see the saints on the stained windows ; at the altar the picture of one up Calvary meekly bearing the cross ! It seemed, then, that our hearts had no need even of the kindness of kindred — of the country where we were born, and that had received the LIFE AT OXFORD. 4T ( nntinued blessings of our enlarging love ! Yet away went, e^■cn tlicn, sometimes our thoughts to Scotland, like carrier-pigeons walling love-messages ueneath their unwearied wings ! They went and they returned, and still their going and coming was blessed. But ambition touched us, as with the wand of a magician from a vanished world and a vanished time. The Greek tongue — multi- tudinous as the sea — ke]'t like the sea sounding in our ears, through the stillness of that world of towers and temples. Lo ! Zeno, with his arguments hard and high, beneath the porch ! Plato divinely discoursing in grove and garden ! The Stagyrite searching for tiutli in the profounder gloom ! The sweet voice of the smiling Socrates, cheering the cloister's shade and the court's sunshine ! And when the thunders of Demosthenes ceased, we heard the harping of the old blind glorious Mendicant, whom, for the loss of eyes, Apollo rewarded with the gift of immortal song ! And that was our companionship of the dead !"* Yet these new feelings, and all that fascination which belongs to novelty in " men and manners," could not efface the image of his own familiar Scottish home ; and he writes : — " It is not likely that I will ever like any place of study, that I may chance to live in again, so well as Glasgow College. Attach- ments formed in our youth, both to places and persons, are by far the strongest that we ever entertain. " I consider Glasgow College as my mother, and I have almo-t a son's affection for her. It was there I gathered any ideas I may possess ; it was there I entered upon the first pursuits of study that I could fully understand or enjoy; it was there I formed the first binding and eternal friendships ; in short, it was there I passed the happiest days of my life. " I may even there have met with things to disturb me, but that was seldom ; and I would, without hesitation, enter into an agree- ment with Providence, that my future life should be as happy as those days. I dare say I left Glasgow at the time I should have left it ; my dearest companions had either gone before me, or were preparing to follow me ; and had I stayed another year, perha])s my last best friends. Miss W., and Miss M., would not have been * "Old Norlli and Young North," Works, vol. vi. 42 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. in College Buildings ; in that case I might as well have been at Japan." In this honest and unaffected language may be traced that power of local attachment, that clothed every home he found with a sacred interest, interweaving into all the dreams of his memory associations that recalled either some day of unalloyed joy, or some moments of sorrow, hallowed in memory with the "tender grace of a day that is dead." Of his studies and manner of life at Oxford I have no very minute or extensive memorials. That he was a hard student is sufficiently proved, both by the relics of his industry and by the manner in which he passed his final examination. That he also tasted of the pleasures and diversions open to a lively young Oxonian, possessed of abundant resources,* is only to say that he was a young man, and lived at Oxford for three years and a half But the general impression that he led what is called a "fast life," and was not a reading man, is by no means correct. His wonderful physical powers gave him indeed great advantages, enabling him to overtake a larger amount of work in a short time than weaker frames could attempt, and to recover with rapidity the loss of hours spent in depressing gloom or hilarious enjoyment. But with all his unaffected relish for the delights of sense, his was a soul that could never linger long among them, without making them "step- ping-stones to higher things." Many, doubtless, were his wild pranks and jovial adventures, and for a brief space, as we shall find, he gave himself up, in the agony of blighted hopes, to " unbridled dissipation," if so he might drown the memory of an insupportable grief All such excess, however, was alien to his nature, which * His father had left him an unencumbered fortune of _;^5o,ooo. I find the following calculation in one of his memorandum-books, apparently made soon after his coming to Oxford: — "Expenses necessary for an Oxford life for five months amounts to about ^170 ; that doubled, to £'i^o ; and for the other two months, £^0, make ;£'400 the very least possible." I am afraid the "necessary" expenses turned out to be very far short of the actual. The book contains an account of expenditure somewhere up to the month of October 1803, amounting to about £1^'^, which may be considered moderate. But not long after there occurs this significant note ! — " I find that I cannot balance my accounts, therefore will henceforth keep only general ones." LIFE AT OXFORD. 43 fjom childhood to old age, preserved that freshness and purity of feeling imparted by Heaven to all true poets, and in few instances utterly lost His life at Magdalen College, and his arrangements in regard to his studies, were marked by the same attention to order as had directed his daily course when in Glasgow. It was not till some time after he had left Scotland, that the agitation of harassing thoughts caused a change in the steadiness of his habits, leading him into strange eccentricities in search of peace. But the restless- ness and occasional deep depression of his spirit were never of long continuance, otherwise the result might have been destructive. Fortunatelv, the strength and buoyancy of his nature were too great to be overcome, and he passed naturally from one condition of feeling to another, according as his spirit was soothed or agitated by outward circumstances. Thus, in the midst of all his sorrows, he is found throwing himself not unfrequently into the full tide of the life that surrounds him, as if he had no other thought ; while again he springs oft' upon some distant walk that takes him miles away, to seek solace in the solitude of the valleys, or drown care among the crowds of a city. Nothing, however, damped his ardour in acquiring knowledge, or in expressing admiration for those who inspired it by their writings. The heroes he worshipped w ere numerous ; and those he loved best have had their beauties recorded in essays of much discriminating power and taste. One of his first steps for methodizing the results of his study, and improving his mind, was the commencement of a commonplace hook, a valuable exercise which he had already begun on a small scale in Glasgow, probably by the advice of Professor Jardine. Of these commonplace books several volumes more or less complete are still extant, giving evidence of an industry and a systematic habit of study very inconsistent with the notion that the writer was an idle or desultory student.* * "Volume 1." is prefaced in the following philosophical style, a few days after his arrival in Oxford : the elaborate plan of study indicated was not, of course, rigidly adhered to : — " In the following pages I propose to make such remarks upon the various subjects of polite literature as have been suggested to my mind during the course of my 44 MEMOIR OF JO/LV IV/l.SO.V. Ft will be observed, from the extracts I have subjoined, that he writes of the manner in which his work is to be arranged with considerable confidence ; a tone observable in all he says, not the result of mere youthful self-complacency, but of that consciousness of power which accompanies genius, quickened by the freshness oi new studies, and an increasing capacity to discern and appreciate the beauties and difficulties of the subjects laid before him. The various compositions resulting from the above plan, which have been preserved, give the samt impression of easy power and well- balanced judgment, combined with a sensitiveness keenly alive to delicacy of thought, and a ready sympathy with those feelings which are excited by natural causes. Unlike most juvenile essays, they display no affected or maudlin sentiment ; there is no ex- aggeration or "fine writing;" the characteristic qualities, in fact, are clearness and sagacity, the true foundation of good criticism ; forming in conjunction with wide knowledge and sympathies, the hem-ideal, afterwards in him exemplified, of what a critic should be, whose judgments will live as parfs of literature, and not merely talk about it. As an example of the qualities now indicated, I may men- tion an essay out of the first of these two commonplace books. "On studies, by the perusal of writers upon the different branches of human knowledge ; reflections upon law, history, philosophy, theology, and poetry, will be classed under separate heads ; and if my information upon the useful and interestmg subject of political economy can be reduced to any short discussions upon disputed or funda- mental principles, or to a collection of maxims, such as form the groundwork of wider inquiries, observations upon the different theories of economists will form part of my projected plan. In following out this general view, it will frequently happen that T shall have occasion to enter fully into the discussion of questions that have been merely suggested to me by the allusion of authors ; and, accordingly, essaj'S of some length will constitute a considerable part of my plan. " With regard to the department of poetry, original verses of my own composition will be frequently introduced, sometimes with the view to illustrate a principle, and often with no other end than self-gratification. " If, in the course of my epistolary correspondence, any interesting subjects of literature should be discussed, thoughts thus communicated to me will be inserted in the words of the writer, under the head to which they may belong, and accompanied by my own remarks upon them. "Should any reflections upon men and manners occur to my mind, even with regard to the general characters of mankind, or the particular dispositions of acquaintances and friends, they shall be written down as they occur, without any embellishment. LIFE AT OXFORD. 45 the Poetry of Drummond," showing a most discriminating apprecia- tion of a poet whose genius, as he justly says, has never received due acknowledgment. This essay is followed by a very elaborate and ingenious dissertation on the question, " Why have the Egyp- .tians never been remarkable for poetry?" a curious question, which, so far as I am aware, has never formed the subject of special observation. A considerable portion of the volume is occupied with a translation of Sir William Jones's Observations on Eastern Poetry, and of the specimens which are very happily rendered. Under date June 27th is the sketch of a proposed poem on the flight of the Israelites out of Egypt, which does not appear, how- ever, to have been entered on. A volume seems to have been set aside for each of the chief branches of study, which from time to time engaged his attention. Some of these are probably lost ; and those which remain want a good many leaves in some places. One bears the heading Law, and contains a survey of the municipal law of England, apparently founded on Blackstone. Another is headed Theology, and contains a careful review and summary of the evidences of Christianity, based on the study of Paley. Another was intended for History, but contains, besides some general observations on the study of History, only an essay " concerning Ireland." Another, devoted to his miscellaneous subjects, contains a considerable number of essays and reflections, some pretty elaborate, and displaying a remarkable grasp and comprehensive- ness of mind as well as vivacity and grace of style. The following are some of the subjects treated of: The Fear of Death ; Female " In short, this commonplace book, or whatever else it may be called, will contain, as far as it goes, a faithful representation of the state of my mind, both in its moments of study and retirement. I will endeavour to concentrate the different radii of information upon literary topics, impressions with regard to human life, and feelings of my own heart in cases when that can be done with good effect. In referring to these pictures of my mind at different periods, I shall be able to estimate the progress I have made in intellectual acquirements, and the various changes that have taken place in my modes of thinking and feeling. " I shall learn to know myself. In future times it will be pleasing to behold what I once was, and what I once thought ; and if I contemplate the acquirements of my youth with anything like contempt, it will, I trust, proceed from a conviction of real superiority and virtue, " M,\GDALF,N" (dI.I ir.E, Jui/C 8, T803." a6 memoir of JOHN WILSON. Beauty ; Dissipation ; Chastity ; Religious Worship ; The Old Ballad Mania ; The Edinburgh Review ; the Study of History ; the Neglect of Genius in Britain ; The Present State of Europe \ Lon- ginus as a Critic ; The Tendency of Little Poems ; Duelling ; Modern Poetry ; the Martial Character of the Danes ; the Decline of the Moorish Power in Spain ; the Influence of Climate. These interesting volumes indicate altogether a very extensive range of study, and thorough mastery of particular topics. It must be remembered too, that these A^ere but the occasional exercises which filled up the intervals of a complete and successful course of classical study. The various poetical effusions and sketches for proposed poems with which some of the volumes are to a great extent filled, belong manifestly to a later period. The most im- portant among these are the original draught of several cantos of the " Isle of Palms," which will call for due notice in a subsequent chapter. The choice of friends is one of those things which most bring out a man's character and power of discrimination On this topic I find the following sentences addressed to Margaret : — " is a being in whom I have been most grievously dis- appointed. When I was first introduced to him I was prejudiced in his favour, for three reasons : — First, He was grave, and did not take great part in the conversation, which turned chiefly upon dogs and horses ! secondly, He was, as I thought, something like Alexander Blair ; and, thirdly, I was informed he studied a great deal. I accordingly thought that I had fallen upon a good companion. For some time I believed that I had formed a right judgment, thought him a sensible fellow, and, from obscure hints that he dropped, took it into my head that he was a poet. Having, however, one day got into an argument with him concerning the meaning of a line in Homer, I observed an ignorance in him which I was sorry for, and a degree of stupid obstinacy that I despised. This passed ; and speaking one day of the Prince, commonly called the ' Pretender,' he thought proper to remark that his title to the throne was no greater than mine. "With this I did not altogether agree, and having stated my reasons for dissenting ^rom him, discovered that he was entirely LIFE AT OXFORD. 47 ignorant of the history of his own country. Ignorance so gross as this is at all times pitiable, but more so when disguised under pretended knowledge. I accordingly gradually withdrew from his acquaintance, always preserving strict civility and politeness. At last, having judged it proper to be witty towards me, I wrote an epigram upon him, which it seems he did not like ; so he now keeps a very respectful distance. He is a compound of good-nature, obstinacy, ignorance, honour, and conceit, but the bad ingredients are strongest." The next portrait is of a more pleasing nature : — " is a youth of such reserved manners, that although I was first introduced to him, I scarcely spoke twenty words to him to which I received any other answer than Yes, or No, for the first twenty days. Now, I know him rather better, and begin to hke him. "He sometimes condescends to laugh at a joke, but never to make one. He is a very close student, and I believe the first scholar in the College among the Gentlemen-commoners. His father is the best Greek scholar in England, and I have given this youth the surname of Sophocles, a famous Greek tragedian. He has a taste for the Fine Arts, and paints, and plays upon the piano ; but he is the worst hand at both I ever saw or heard. He is good-natured, and a gentleman." Another still more genial companion is spoken of in the same letter :— " is a young man of large fortune, and still larger prospects, so he does not think it worth his while to study much ; but he is naturally very clever ; is an elegant classical scholar, writes good verses, and has very amiable dispositions. He lives in the same stair with me, so we are often together, and I am very fond of him. His cousin is also a very clever fellow, has lived long in dashing life in London, and is intimate with Kinnaird, Lamb, Lewis, Moore, and other wits in London; 'a merrier man, within the limits of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal.' He delights in quizzical verses, and we are writing together a poem called Magdalen College, which, should we ever complete, I will send to you. 48 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON: The journal breaks off here, and we find no more such familiar sketches of " men and manners," but more serious matter, for whatever bears upon work is treated with earnest respect. His obviously methodical study obtained for him that clearness of perception and correctness of knowledge, without which no mind perfectly performs its work. Accuracy may in fact be called the foundation and the stronghold of all properly directed mental energy. There is no fault more common than want of accuracy, and none that might be so easily cured. Great intellect never has it, though cleverness may ; and there was no fault of which my father was more intolerant. He often used to say to his children in a spirit of fun, " you know I am never wrong ? Whatever I state is correct ; whatever I say is right." It was truly the case with regard to his information. The early efforts of genius are always interesting, and in his case they are enhanced in value, when it is considered with what they were combined. Very rarely does it happen that the same individual possesses an equal proportion of mental and bodily activity, of intellect and imagination ; and the seductions that lie in the way of a youth so gifted, whose path of life is smoothed by fortune, must be taken into account in estimating the use made of his powers. No doubt conscious strength is in itself a spur to high achievements, and the enviable possession of great gifts of mind and body gives, as it were, two lives, fitting a man for a Titan's work. It was this combination of gifts that made Wilson singular among the men of his time; and the preservation of their harmony was proof that, amid the various influences tending to overthrow the balance, a healthy moral nature reigned supreme. The hard-working intellect was not led astray by the fertile imagina- tion ; the indefatigable bodily energy and exuberant sportiveness were still subservient to reason : and all worked healthily together, despite the recurring gloom of cheerless days, and the restless wanderings that hardly brought repose. Judged by his poems alone, Wilson was to be classed with the most refined and sensitive of idealists : tested by some of his prose writings and his professional reputation, he was one of the most acute and eloquent of moralists. That such a man should have LIFE AT OXFORD. 49 delighted in angling and in boating, in walking, running, and leaping, is not extraordinary ; but that he should also have prac- tically encouraged, and greatly enjoyed the ruder pastimes of wrestUng, boxing, and cock-fighting, may appear to some people anomalous. For the notion is not yet wholly extinct, that a poet should be a delicate and dreamy being, all heart and nerves, and certainly destitute of muscles ; while the philosopher is held bound to be solemn and dyspeptic, dwelling in a region of clouds remote from all the business and pleasures of men. It is unnecessary, I presume, to show the absurdity of such views. But neither is it necessary to say a word in favour of the cock-pit or the prize-ring. Suffice it, that at the time when my father studied at Oxford, there were few young gentlemen, with any pretensions to manliness, by whom these now proscribed amusements were not zealously patronized. The fashions change with the generations, and the fox-hunter may ere long be considered a barbarian, and the deer- stalker a kind of assassin. Certain it is, that literary men do not now patronize cock-fighting, and the world would probably be scandalized to hear of Mr Dickens inviting a party of friends to "a main."* Yet about this time there was a regular cock-pit in Edinburgh, patronized by "many gen '^men still alive," says the Editor of Kay's Biographical Sketches in 1842, who would not, perhaps, relish being reminded of " their early passion for the birds." t John Wilson was a keen patron of this exciting, though to our eyes, cruel amusement ; so much so, that at Elleray he kept, * Although it has been said that the sage and refined Henry Mackenzie did not consider it inconsistent with his character to patronize this amusement, I must omit his name from the number. He was very fond of field sports, but I am assured, on the best authority, that there is not a word of truth in the tradition, nor in the following capital story, quoted from Burgon's Life of Tytler: — " Drinking tea there (at Woodhouselee) one evening, we waited some time for Mr Mackenzie's appear- ance ; he came in at last, heated and excited : ' What a glorious evening I have had!' We thought he spoke of the weather, which was beautiful ; but he went on to detail the intense enjoyment he had had in a cock-fight. Mrs Mackenzie listened some time in silence ; then looking up in his face, she exclaimed in her gentle voice, 'Oh, Harry, Harry, your feeling is all on paper!'" + A few years earlier a "main" was fought in the kitchen of the Assembly Rooms, then unfinished, Ibetween the counties of Lanark and Hatldington, of which Kay gives a vivid pictiu-e, — photographing the better known cockers who were present on the occasion. 50 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. as we shall presently find, a most extensive establishment of cocks, whose training and destinies evidently occupied no small share of his attention. While unable to appreciate fully the merits of this ancient but now almost extinct amusement, I would observe that, in his case, the mere pleasure in the exhibition of animal courage was connected with a more deep and comprehensive delight in the animals themselves. For, from those earliest days, when he made An old hand at the Cockpit, Oxford. the acquaintance of peaseweeps in the midst of lightning and rain, he had been a keen observer of the habits of all kinds of birds ; and he never ceased to take a special interest in them and their ways. I would also remark, that even in those years of student life, when he mixed with all sorts of company, and took his pleasure from the most diversified sources, the study of human nature was truly a great part of his enjoyment He went among the various LIFE AT OXFORD. 51 grades of men and character much as a geologist goes peering among the strata of the earth ; and as a naturaUst is not blamed who has his pet beasts and insects, to us repulsive, so perhaps may- such a student of men and their manners be rightly fulfilling his vocation, even when he descends to occasional companionship with the stranger types of humanity. Of his pugilistic skill, it is said by Mr De Quincey, that "there was no man who had any talents, real or fancied, for thumping or being thumped, but he had experienced some preehig of his merits from Mr Wilson. All other pretensions in the gymnastic arts he took a pride in humbling or in honouring ; but chiefly his examina- tions fell upon pugilism; and not a man, who could either 'give' or ' take,' but boasted to have punished, or to have been punished by Wilson of Malktisr* One anecdote may suffice in illustration of this subject, having, I believe, the merit of being true. Meeting one day with a rough and unruly wayfarer, who showed inclination to pick a quarrel, concerning right of passage across a certain bridge, the fellow obstructed the way, and making himself decidedly obnoxious, Wilson lost all patience, and offered to fight him. The man made no objection to the proposal, but replied that he had better not fight with /«>//, as he was so and so, mentioning the name of a (then not unknown) pugilist. This statement had, as may be supposed, no effect in damping the belligerent intentions of the Oxonian; he knew his own strength, and his skill too. In one moment off went his coat, and he set to upon his antagonist in splendid style. The astonished and punished rival, on recovering from his blows and surprise, accosted him thus : " You can only be one of the two ; you are either Jack Wilson or the Devil." This encounter, no doubt, led, for a short time, to fraternity and equality over a pot of porter. His attainments as a leaper were more remarkable. For this exercise he had, in the words of the writer already quoted, " two remarkable advantages. A short trunk and remarkably long legs gave him one-half his advantage in the noble science of leaping; the other half was pointed out to me by an accurate critic in these * Edinburgh Literary Gazdtc, vol. i. No. 6. 52 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. matters as lying in the particular conformation of his foot, the instep of which is arched, and the back of the heel strengthened in so remarkable a way, that it would be worth paying a penny for a sio-ht of them." After referring to the boastful vanity of the cele- brated Cardinal du Perron on this point, he adds: — "The Cardinal, by his own account, appears to have been the flower of Popish leapers ; and, with all deference to his Eminence, upon a better assurance than that, Professor Wilson may be rated, at the time I speak of, as the flower of all Protestant leapers. Not having the Cardinal's foible of connecting any vanity with this little accom- plishment, knowing exactly what could, and what could 7iot be effected in this department of gymnastics, and speaking with the utmost simplicity and candour of his failures and his successes alike, he might always be relied upon, and his statements were constantly in harmony with any collateral testimony that chance happened to turn up." His most remarkable feat of this kind, the fame of which still lingers round the spot where it took place, is thus referred to by himself: — "A hundred sovereigns to five against any man in England, doing twenty-three feet on a dead level, ^vith a run and a leap on a slightly inclined plane, perhaps an inch to a yard. We have seen twenty-three feet done in great style, and measured to a nicety, but the man who did it (aged twenty-one, height, five feet eleven inches, weight, eleven stone) was admitted to be (Ireland excepted) the best far leaper of his day in England."* This achievement, worthy of one of Dr Dasent's favourite heroes, took place in the presence of many spectators, at a bend of the Cherwell, a tributary of the Isis, where it glides beautifully through the enamelled meads of Christ Church, the leap being taken across the stream. To one so full of life, and of the enjoyment of it in its various phases, Oxford was prolific ground for the exercise of his vivacious spirit ; and it will naturally be expected that in connexion with this period, there are many curious stories to unfold. But the flight of years soon obliterates the traces of past adventures ; very few of the contemporaries of those pleasant days survive; and I am sorry, * "Essay on Gymnastics." LIFE AT OXFORD. 53 therefore, to say, that I have been able to gather but few authentic details regarding this portion of ray father's life. Every one knows how a story, when it has passed from its original source, is, in an incredibly short space of time, so metamorphosed, as not again to be recognisable; complexion, manner, matter, all changed — ^just as if loving and making a Ue were a matter of duty. Sensible persons, too, are sometimes found credulous of strange tales; while the world, in general, is ever ready to pick up the veriest rubbish, and complacently exclaim, " How characteristic ; so like the man." Few men have had more fables thus circulated regarding them than my father. Perhaps the most foolish story that was ever told of him, is one that William and Mary Howitt allude to with wise incredulity, in their pleasant yet somewhat incorrect memorial of him, and which now, to the disappointment of not a few, must be denied iti toto. It was said that, when wandering in Wales, he joined a gang of gipsies, and married a girl belonging to that nomade tribe, and lived with her for some time among the moun- tains. That he had acted along with strolling players, and that there was one company to which he was kind and generous, is quite true ; but that he lived with them, or any other adventurers, is mere romance, "the baseless fabric of a vision." A journal of his wanderings through Wales and the south of England, the Lake District, the Highlands, and Ireland, would have been more amusing than most books of travel, for we have his own word for it that they were sometimes " full of adventure and scrape." But of these journeys he kept no record, and all that can now be gleaned is an incidental allusion here and there in his works.* The circle of his acquaintance at Oxford was most extensive, from the learned President of his College, Dr Routh, with whom, * " • The Tipferary shillelaghs came tnynhling about his nob as thick as grass.' This is a sweet pastoral image, which we ourselves once heard employed by a very delicate and modest young woman in a cottage near Limerick, when speaking of the cudgels in an affray. A broken head is in Ireland always spoken of in terms of endearment ; much of the same tender feeling is naturally transferred to the shil- lelagh that inflicted it. 'God bless your honour!" said the same gentle creature to us while casting an affectionate look of admiration on our walking-stick, ' Yott •would give a swate blow -with it,'" — Black-wood, vol. v. p. 667', 54 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. as I)e Quincey says, "he enjoyed unlimited favour," down through " an infinite gamut of friends and associates, running through every key, the diapason closing full in groom, cobbler, and stable-boy." But though a universal favourite, his circle of intimate friends was more select. Among these were Mr Home Drummond (of Blair- Drummond), Mr Charles Parr Burney, Reginald Heber ; Mr Sib- thorpe, brother of the late Colonel Sibthorpe ; Mr N. EUison, Mr Charles Edward Grey. None of these gentlemen were of his own college. An anecdote may here be given, illustrating a somewhat unusual mode of shutting up a proctor. One evening one of these important functionaries was aroused to the exercise of his authority by a con- siderable noise in the High Street. Coming forth to challenge the authors of the unlawful uproar, he found that " Wilson of Magdalen's " was the prime author of the disturbance. Remons- trance and warning were alike thrown away on the indomitable youth; he had put on his " boldest suit of mirth, for he had friends that purposed memment." Nothing could be made of him. In vain the proctor advanced ; he was received with speeches, and a perfect flood of words. The idea of repose was flouted by this incorrigible youth. Still the proctor protested, until he was fairly driven away by Wilson repeating to him, with imperturbable gravity, nearly the whole of Pope's " Essay on Man." I am glad to be able to make up, in some respects, for the meagreness of these outlines, by some very interesting reminiscences kindly furnished by one who truly says, that he is "perhaps the only person now living who could give so many details at the end of half a century ;" — • " I became acquainted with the late Professor Wilson at Mag- dalen College, Oxford, about the year 1807 or 1808. He had already graduated, taken even (as I best recollect) his Master's degree, when I entered that College as a gentleman-commoner. His personal appearance was very remarkable; he was a powerfully built man, of great muscular strength, about five feet ten inches high, a very broad chest, wearing a great profusion of hair and enormous whiskers, which in those days were very unusually seen, particularly in the University. He was considered the strongest, LIFE AT OXFORD. 55 most athletic, and most active man of those days at Oxford ; and certainly created more interest amongst the gownsmen than any of his contemporaries, having already greatly distinguished himself in the schools, and as a poet. " The difference of our standing in the College, as well as of our ages and pursuits, did not allow of our forming any close intimacy, and we seldom met but in our common room, to which the gentle- men-commoners retired from the dining-hall for wine and dessert, to spend the evening, and to sup, etc. " I am not able to say who were Wilson's intimates in the University ; he certainly had none in the college. I rather think he was much with Mr Gaisford, the celebrated Grecian. I think, of our men, Mr Edward Synge, of the county of Clare, saw the most of him. The fact is we were all pigmies^ both physically and mentally, to him, and therefore unsuited to general companionship. It was therefore in the conviviality of our common room, to which Wilson so much contributed, and which he so thoroughly himself enjoyed, that we had the opportunity of appreciating this (even then) extraordinarily gifted man, who combined the simplicity of a child with the learning of a sage. He was sometimes, but rarely silent, abstracted for a time, which I attributed to his mind being then occupied with composition. He never seemed unhappy. " It was the habit and fashion of those days to drink what would now be considered freely; the observance was not neglected at Maudlin, though never carried to excess. Wilson's great con- versational powers were drawn out during these social hours. He delighted in discussions, and would often advance paradoxes, even in order to raise a debate. It was evident that (like Dr Johnson) he had not determined which side of the argument he would take upon the question he had raised. Once he had decided that point, he opened with a flow of eloquence, learning and wit, which became gradually an absolute torrent, upon which he generally tided into the small hours. No interruption, no difference of opinion, how- ever warmly expressed, could ruffle for a moment his imperturbable good temper. He was certainly one of the most charming social companions it has ever been my lot to meet, although I have known some of the most agreeable and witty that Ireland has produced. .=^6 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. There was a versatility of talent and eloquence {not of opinion;^) in Wilson, such as I have never seen equalled. I have heard him with equal cleverness argue in favour and disparagement of con- stitutional, absolute, and democratic forms of government; one evening you would suppose him to be (as he real/y was) a most determined, unbending Tory; the next he assumed to be a thorough Whig of the old school ; on a third, you would conclude him to be a violent and dangerous democrat ! You could never suppose that the same man could uphold and decry with equal talent, proposi- tions so opposite : and yet he aid, and was equally persuasive and conclusive upon each. In the same manner with religious discus- sions : to-day there could be no more energetic and able " defender of the Faith ;" to-morrow he would advance Voltaireism, Hobbism, and Gibbonism enough to induce those who did not know him to conclude that he was a thorough unbeliever. He was, on the contrary, of a highly pious and religious mind. I may sum up his characteristics as they appeared to me, in a few words : simplicity, kindness, learning, with chivalry ; for certainly his views and senti- ments were highly chivalrous, and had he lived in those days, he would have been found among the foremost of ' les preux chevaliers.' " The established rule of our common room was, that no one should appear there without being in full evening dress ; non- compliance involved a fine of one guinea, which Wilson had more than once incurred and paid. Having one day come in in his morning garb, and paid down the fine, he asked, 'What then do you consider dress?' 'Silk stockings,' etc., etc., was the answer. The next day came Wilson, looking very well satisfied with himself, and with us all; now, he cried, 'All is right, I hope to have no more fines to pay; you see I have complied with the rules,' pointing to his silk stockings, which he had very carefully d7-awn over the coarse woollen walking stockings which he wore usually; his strong shoes he still retained ! " He told us one evening that he imagined he had a taste for, and might become proficient in music, and that he would commence to practise the French horn ! which he did accordingly, commencing after we had broken up for the night, which was generally long after twelve. Some days after, old Dr Jenner, one of the Fellows, LIFE AT OXFORD. 57 accosted me with piteous tones and countenance: 'Oh, Southwell! do, for pity's sake, use your influence with Wilson to choose some other time for his music-lessons ; I never get a wink of sleep after he commences !' I accordingly spoke to him ; he seemed quite surprised that his dulcet notes could have disturbed his neighbours; but he was too good-natured to persevere, and, as far as I know, his musical talents were no further cultivated. Being a Master of Arts, he was no longer subject to college discipline, and might have, if he wished, accompanied his horn with a big drum ! One of his great amusements was to go to the ' Angel Inn,' about mid- night, when many of the up and down London coaches met ; there he used to preside at the passengers' supper-table, carving for them, inquiring all about their respective journeys, why and wherefore they were made, who they were, etc. ; and in return, astonishing them with his wit and pleasantry, and sending them off wondering who and what he coidd be! He frequently went from the ' Angel ' to the ' Fox and Goose,' an early ' purl and gill ' house, where he found the coachman and guards preparing for the coaches which had left London late at night ; and there he found an audience, and sometimes remained till the college-gates were opened, rather (I believe) than rouse the old porter, Peter, from his bed to open for him expressly. It must not be supposed, that in these strange meetings he indulged in intemperance ; no such thing ; he went to such places, I am convinced, to study character, in wliich they abounded. I never saw him show the slightest appearance even of drink, notwithstanding our wine-drinking, suppers, punch, and smoking in the common room, to very late hours. I never shall forget his figure, sitting with a long earthen pipe, a great tie wig on ; those wigs had descended, I fancy, from the days of Addison (who had been a member of our College), and were worn by us all (in order, I presume, to preserve our hair and dress from tobacco smoke) when smoking commenced, after supper ; and a strange appearance we made in them ! "His pedestrian feats were marvellous. On one occasion, having been absent a day or two, we asked him on his return to the com- mon room, where he had been ? He said, in London. When did you return? This morning. How did you come? On foot. As t8 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. we all expressed surprise, he said : ' Why the fact is, I dined yesterday with a friend in Grosvenor (I think it was) Square, and as I quitted the house, a fellow who was passing was impertinent and insulted me, upon which I knocked him down ; and as I did not choose to have myself called in question for a street row, I at once started, as I was, in my dinner dress, and never stopped until I got to the College gate this morning, as it was being opened.' Now this was a walk of fifty-eight miles at least, which he must have got over in eight or nine hours at most, supposing him to have left the dinner-party at nine in the evening.* " He had often spoken to me when at Oxford of a protracted foot-tour which he had made in Ireland some years previous, and about which there appeared to me a sort of mystery, which he did not explain. " R. H. S."t * Mr Southwell's statement may seem an exaggeration ; but a reference to Mr Findlay's account, will show that my father had easily performed six miles an hour in what I take for granted to be a more difficult mode of progression than the ordinary, viz., "toe and heel." + As a tail-piece to Mr Southwell's letter, I take the liberty of inserting here another of Mr Lockhart's Hogarthian sketches, containing, I have no doubt, correct, if not very flattering portraits of some of the Oxford dignitaries of that day. The " strictures of the Edinburgh Review," which appear to have excited so much dis- satisfaction, were contained in two articles in the Revieiv of July 1809 and of April 1810, in which some of the weak points of the contemporary system of education at Oxford were handled with a roughness characteristic of the criticism of that period. THE ORPHAN MAW. 6 1 CHAPTER IV. THE ORPHAN MAID— UNIVERSITY CAREER. 1803-8. The course of true love, whether calm or troubled, whet?her issuing In sunshine or in storm, is "an old, old story;" but it is one that sums up the chiefest joys and sorrows of men and women, and can only be regarded with indifference by those who are dead to the influence of all deep and worthy emotions. The best and brightest spirits have shown how their lives were ennobled by the passion of love, the faith and purity of which in one heart were the spring of the finest song that ever immortalized genius, and the highest compliment that ever was paid to woman. Should it sometimes happen, when the heart is overburdened with its weight of sorrow, that comfort and forgetfulness are sought in the tumultuous excitements of hfe, it does not always follow that nature becomes lowered, any more than that love is quenched ; for nothing in reality can soothe an unfeigned grief but resolution to bear it Those who can endure a sorrow, whatever its cause, elevate thereby their moral being, ex- periencing soon that all comfort from outward sources is but vanity. A strong and uncorrupted soul rises ere long above the aid of idle pleasures, and gratefully turns to the wisdom that teaches submis- sion, believing; " Tal pose in pace uno ed altro disio." So was it with John Wilson, to the story of whose early love we now again turn. The reader may have ere this imagined that it was to be heard of no more ; that Oxford and its varied excitements had deadened the recollection of Dychmont and Bothwell Banks. So little was it thus, that from all the evidence which letters supply, tliere seems to have been no portion of his timf^, during the seven 62 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. years preceding his permanent settlement at EUeray, in which his love for Margaret did not influence the tenor of his existence, inspiring him at one time with ardent hope, oftener sinking him into the deepest anguish, from which he at times sought escape in assumed indifference or reckless dissipation. It shows how little the outward life of such a man can reveal of his whole nature and actual history, that but for these letters we could not have had even a glimpse of what was in reality the dominant thought of his life at Oxford, nor ever known of the trial which brought out so strongly the nobleness of his nature and the depth of his filial love. Had it not been that so many years of his life were spent in the indulgence of a fond hope and engrossing passion, ending in a sacrifice to duty such as few men of spirit so impetuous have ever made, this tale had not been told. It may well move the admiration of all who reverence the power of self-control in tutoring the heart, while its brightest dreams are still objects of faith. It will be seen from these letters how hard it must have been for him to bend before obstructions, of whose reality and strength he was long in utter ignorance. Of all his letters to Margaret, the only one that survives of what must have been an extensive correspondence, is one written soon after his arrival at Oxford. Of hers to him there is, I regret to say, none to be found. The pensive simplicity that pervades it is in entire harmony with the strain of the "Poems," and like the portrait by Raeburn, will perhaps surprise those who may have expected to find young Christopher North addressing the lady of his love in the impassioned and eloquent style of a troubadour; the thing was much too genuine for that : — ■ "Magdalen College, Oxford, June 12, 1803. " Next to seeing yourself, my dear Margaret, and the greatest pleasure I know upon this earth, is that of seeing your writing : and I cannot describe what I felt when I read your letter, even although it contained some little censure for not having written you ere this. When I knew by the direction who it was from, my heart leaped within my breast, and I read it over and over again without inter- mission, so rejoiced was I to hear from one so dear to me as you are. Indeed I must confess that T was always afraid you would THE ORPHAN MAID. 63 not write me, although this was more an unaccountable presentiment than an apprehension for which, after your promise, I could assign any reason. But where the strongest wishes are, there also are the strongest fears. I see now, however, that you really will write me, and that, I trust, often. What a wretch, therefore, would I be, were I to deprive myself of such a blessing by my own foolishness ! When I read your letters, I will be with you in spirit, notwithstanding the distance between this place and Dychmont. My silence was far from proceeding out of forgetfulness of my promise to write you. Before I could have forgot that, I must have forgot you, which never will be to my dying moment ; and should it ever happen, may my God forget me. The truth is, I had several reasons for not writing you sooner. I wished first to have seen your picture, which has not yet arrived, and indeed has scarcely had sufficient time yet. But I should have written you notwithstanding that, had I been able, but believe me when I tell you, that hitherto I was not. " Whenever I thought of writing to you, I thought of the distance I was from you, of the sadness I suffered when I bade you farewell, and the loss of almost all the happiness I enjoy in this world by no longer seeing you. All this quite overpowered me, and I could no more have written to you than I could tell you that forenoon I last saw you not to forget me when I was away. Your letter has revived me ; and if you have any regard for me, which I believe you have, oh, write often, often ! You know I am unhappy ; comfort me, comfort me ! A few lines will delight me, and you are too kind to refuse me such a gratification. It will also serve to keep you in remembrance of me, when perhaps you might otherwise forget me, which, should it ever happen, would complete my sum of wretched- ness. If hearing from me will afford you any pleasure, I will write as often as you choose — a small mark of affection surely to one, to serve whom I would endure anything on the face of the earth. It will also afford myself greater pleasure than you. When I left you, my dear Margaret, you know that I was afraid that Oxford would be to me a dull, unhappy place. You seemed to think not yourself, and believed that the change of situation and novelty of company would make me forget anything that distressed me, and even make me think less on those friends I had left. 64 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " Perhaps though you said this, you did not exactly think it, and wished only to comfort me, which you have so often and so sweetly- done. All my suspicions have been verified, and how indeed could it be otherwise? Oxford is a gay place most certainly, and, 1 daresay, to people whose minds are at ease, a pleasant one ; but to me it appears very different It is true, that when I was in Glasgow I endeavoured to dissipate my melancholy by company, for which 1 could often feel nothing but contempt, and by pursuits which I heartily despised. I imagined such a course of life might have moderated the violence of what my mind suffered, and I had certainly acquired such a portion of self-command as frequently to appear the happiest and most indifferent person in company. But this conduct did not do. When alone I was worse than ever, and, added to my other distress, had the idea of being guilty of decep- tion, which, if long persevered in, I could imagine capable in some measure of deadening the sense of right and wrong, and which is at all events grating to the soul. I now try to read, and have, since I came here, read a great deal ; but all won't do ; my mind is ill at ease. Once, when I was unhapj^y, I had only to step across the street, hear your voice, see your face, and take hold of your hand, and for a time I forgot all my sorrow. This now I cannot do. At night I sit in a lonely room, nobody within many miles of me I love, left to my own meditations and the power of darkness, which I have long detested. " I think of sad things, and weep the more, because I have no hope of relief In such moments what a treasure will your picture be to me ! How it will delight me ; make me forget everything on earth but you, and you looking like what you were when you agreed at last to give it to me. W'^ould to God it were here ! When. Margaret, you see how happy it will make me, how could you refuse it? And yet to give it me was goodness I had no title to expect, and for which I will often thank you in moments of stillness and solitude. Oh, what a treasure is a friend like you ! How little is real friendship understood ! Who could ever conceive the happiness I have felt when with you, or so much as dream the misery I endured when I left you for a long, long time ! As long as there is a moon or stars in the firmament will I remember you; and when THE ORPHAN MAID. 65 I look on either, the recollection of Dychmont Hill, the house, the trees, the wooden seat, which I am grieved is away, will enter my mind, and make me live over again the happiest period of my existence. Last night I was in heaven. I dreamed that I was sitting in the drawing-room at College Buildings with you alone, as I have often done. The room was dark, the window-shutters close ; the fire was little, and just twinkling. I had my feet upon the fender ; you were sitting in the arm-chair ; I was beside you ; your hand was in mine ; we were speaking of my going to Oxford ; you were promising to write me ; I was sad, but happy ; somebody opened the door, and I awoke alone and miserable. " I have given you my promise not to think of a plan you dis- suaded me from carrying into execution. Be assured that I never will change my mind. I consider you as my better angel, for using your simple eloquence to make me abandon the project. It would have been cruel to my dearest friends, and perhaps useless to myself. "Let none, not even Miss W,, see this. Heaven protect you, my dear Margaret, and love you as well as your affectionate friend, " John Wilson." The plan here referred to was a romantic project which he had entertained of going with the expedition of 1804, being Park's second journey to the interior of Africa. Apparently the hostile influences which ultimately prevailed m dividing him and Margaret had begun before he left Glasgow, to disturb the current of his felicity. However extravagant the idea of a journey to Timbuctoo may appear as a medicine for disappointed love, he unquestionably meant it ; and with all the hardships and dangers connected with such an enterprise, it was one highly calculated to excite his imagination and love of adventure. A very old friend thus writes regarding it : — " He had certainly a wild project of going there, and used to talk of it in his usual enthusiastic way. But I did not imagine it had taken any hold of him till one day he astonished me by appearing in a complete sailor's dress, and told me he was going to join the expedition to Africa. I used all my influence to dis- suade him from such a foolish proceeding. You may suppose what E 66 MEMOIR OF JOHM WILSON. dismay he would have occasioned in his own family, who almost worshipped him." To them he never communicated his intentions in the matter, which only became known long after the project had been abandoned. The next letter from which I shall quote is addressed to his dear friend, Findlay. The post-mark bears the date of "August 16, 1803." What had occurred between that and the month of June to give rise to expressions of despondency so unmeasured can only be conjectured to have been a further development of the cause of distress alluded to in the letter to Margaret. ". . . . Since I saw you, my mental anguish has been as great as ever. I feel that I am doomed to be eternally wretched, and that I am cut out from all the most amiable and celestial feelings of human nature. ... At particular times I am per- fectly distracted, and hope that at last the torment my mind suffers may waste a frame that is by nature too strong easily to be destroyed I daresay few would leave life with fewer lingering looks cast behind. My abilities, understanding, and affections are all going to destruc- tion. I can do nothing ; I can't, by Heavens ! even assume that appearance of indifference and gaiety I once did, without a struggle that I cannot support. 1 started in the career of early life as fair as that of any of my companions, and had, I confess, many hopes of being something in the world. But all these are blasted ; I cannot understand anything that I read, and nothing in the world gives, or ever will give me pleasure. I see others enjoying the world, and likely to become respectable and useful members of society ; for myself, I expect to be looked at as a being who wants a mind, and to feel inwardly all the torments of hell. By Heavens ! I will, perhaps, some day blow my brains out, and there is an end of the matter. If you will take the trouble, when you have nothing else to do, of writing now and then to me, I know it will be one of those few things that keep my heart from dying in my breast, and depend upon it, that every word coming from one whom I regard so dearly as you, will be interesting to me. What the happiness is which you so pleasantly allude to, I cannot understand, unless it be that J. S., yourself, Blair, and I are soon to meet. I will be glad to see you. but the word happy will never again be joined to the name of John Wilson.* THE ORPHAN MAID. 67 The next letter, marked "September 1S03," shows an improve- ment in spirits : — " Your former letters, my dear Bob, so far from offending, or giving me an idea that you are addicted to frivolous levity, relieved in a great measure the burden of my heart. Although few, perhaps, ever suffered more from mental anguish in a short time than I have done, this suffering has not had the effect of making me look gloomy disapprobation upon the happiness of others. I feel, if all went well with me, I would be one of the happiest of beings that ever saw the light of heaven, and that nothing would be too in- significant to delight me. This conviction has never quitted my heart even in its darkest moments, and has been the means of making me look with complacency upon every kind of innocent and reasonable enjoyment. "The little girl who brings the newspaper into the room, and trips smiHngly along the floor, gives me something like happiness ; for, wherever I see joy and peace, I take a sad delight in looking at it When your letters showed mc how pleased you were with your new situation, and that nothing disturbed you there, it gave me much pleasure, therefore I hope you will not leave off that light and happy strain which pervaded them. " I know that you and I are sworn friends, and that you are interested in everything that concerns me. Nothing, therefore, in your behaviour towards me, will ever appear unfeeling ; and what you are afraid I might have mistaken for indifference, I know to be the hallowed voice of friendship. Were you here, I would have an opportunity of pouring out my whole soul to you, and in that I would find much relief " But a letter is such a short thing, and to me, sorrow is when written so unintelligible, that in cases of absence I am convinced it is best to say little upon such mournful topics. " If writing to you, and hearing from you, can divert my attention from my own mind, much is accomplished ; and I assure you that your letters, with the minute superscription, effected this end. Before I go further, your resolution to be sorrowful because I might be happier is very injudicious, upon this principle, that while it hurts yourself, so likewise does it him whom you mean to benefit." 68 MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSOiV. To divert his thoughts he went off in these autumnal days on one of those long solitary rambles which often landed him unpre- nieditatedly at night in an unknown region, some fifty miles from his starting-point. A glimpse of one of these excursions is affordeu in the next letter, the greater portion of which, however, is occupied with an outpouring of his woes. These seem to have received fresh stimulus from an ungrounded alarm that a rival had come between him and the dear object of his anxieties. " I have been expecting to hear from you for some time past ; that is to say, I would not have been greatly astonished though I had heard from you, neither am I in the least surprised that you have not written. As I feel, however, what Wordsworth and other gentlemen of his stamp would think proper to call 'impulse to write 'mid deepest sohtude,' I have disregarded entirely the great advance upon the price of writing materials, and will add to the revenue of the Post-Office by the postage of one letter, which you will never grudge to pay, when you have discovered the hidden soul which pervades these effusions. I have lately returned from a walk over a pretty wide extent of country, during which, if at particular times blistered soles and stift" joints did not vastly increase the pleasures of reflection, other moments amply recompensed me, and gave me enjoyment, though not unalloyed, of as perfect a kind as the general nature of frail humanity, assisted by the workings of par- ticular melancholy, could possibly admit. Without being able to assign any reason for my conduct, though I entered into many philosophical inquiries concerning all the possible combinations of motives, I arrived at Coventry, distant from Oxford fifty miles. "■ The days of riding naked upon horseback being gone, I beheld no elegant nude bestriding a prancing courser, therefore I met with no gratification in the assumed character of peeping Tom. From this foolish place I went to Nottingham, distant fifty-one miles, and stayed there three days." Here he abruptly dismisses his pedestrian adventures, and enters on the subject more near his heart " . . . What will time do to such love as mine ? It is not passion founded on whim and fancy ; it is not a feeling of her excellent disposition resembling friendship ; it is not a regard that THE ORPHAN MAID. 69 intimacy preserved, but whose force absence may diminish. Such feehngs constitute the common love of common souls. But ^\■ith me the case is different. No holy throb ever agitates my heart ; no idea of future happiness ever elevates my spirit ; no rush of tenderness ever warms every fibre of my frame, that Margaret is not the cause and object of such emotions. If such a being were to confess she loved me ; if she were to sink upon my breast with love and fondness, I would be the happiest being that ever Hved among men. I feel I have a mind that could then exert itself, and a heart that would love all the human race. But if this union is denied me ; if she I love reposes on the bosom of another, — then is the chain broke which bound me to the world ; I have nothing to li\e for; all is dark, solitarj', cold, \nld, and fearful. When Margaret is married, on that night that gives her to another, if I am in any part of this island, you must pass that night with me. Blair will do the same. I don't expect, indeed I won't suffer either of you to soothe the agony of my soul, for that surely were a vain attempt. But you will sit wdth me. I know that I could never pass that night alone. I would crush to death this cursed heart which has so long tormented me, and bless wath my latest breath my own Margaret ; for she is mine in the secret dwellings of the soul, and not a power in the universe shall tear her from that hospitable home, ^\^len I consider the ways of Providence I am astonished. Whoever marries her, let his virtues be what they may, I know he never could make her as happy as I could He would not love her with so vast and yet so tender a love." With a true poets mind, he fears the change an unworthy help- mate would bring to her refined and enlightened spirit : — " If my rival in her affections were a being superior to myself, I would not repine ; at least not so much as 1 now do, when I am afraid he is unworthy of her, and inferior to me. Does Margaret prefer this man to me? That she does I am afraid is too true. Will he make her as happy as I could ? Can he like her as well as I do? Both suppositions are impossible. The wife of a soldier seldom sees intellectual scenes ; and in progress of time that angel Margaret, for whom I would sacrifice ever}-thing on earth, may become — oh, I shudder to think of it ! — a person of common 70 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. feelings,* and laugh at all I have said to her, at my misery, my love, and my delusions. Such are often the transmigrations of spirit, or rather the transformations which Providence permits to humble the hopes and destroy the happiness of those it made capable of prodigious enjoyment May I never live to see that day !" After relieving his breast by this outburst he returns to his walking : — " I had almost forgot our walking match. I went from Notting- ham to Birmingham. There I met Blair. ... He intends visiting me, perhaps at Christmas, but I will tell you, however, when I expect him, and you must try to spare a few days from that eternal copying of letters, and see what an appearance an old friend cut in purgator}'. "I have sent, at least am going to send, 5-ou a small parcel, containing the sermon I wrote, and a letter to Margaret You may open the parcel, and read the sernion, if you choose. Pack them up in your best manner, and direct them to Miss M., College Buildings, Glasgow. I suppose you have safe communication with Glasgow, for I would not for the world the parcel was lost, as the letter is not for every eye, and contains secret feelings. "Isabella S., I understand, is married. I wish her all possible joy. For God's sake, take care who thou fallest in love with. I wish I had done so, faith ! " The sooner you send Margaret the parcel the better, for I should have written her before now, and she will be wondering at my silence. And let it be safe. Write me when convenient, and don't be interrupted by your mercenary concerns and employments. I would have given you another sheet, from which you are saved by the entrance of the drill-sergeant, who has come to teach me how to fight the French if they come. I am their man. ' God save the King ! ' — Yours, John Wilson." "Oxford, xoth October 1803." * This reminds one of Locksley Hal! : — " Is it well to wish thee happy? — ha\nng kTlo^vn me, to decline On a range of lower feelings, and a narrower heart than mine ! Yet it shall be : thou shalt lower to his level day by day. What is fine within thee growing coarse to sympathize with clay." THE ORPHAN MAID. 7 1 The next letter in the series is from Blair to Findlay, shoAving how deeply these two friends entered into the feelings of one whose trust in them was as that of a brother. It is dated "Hill Top, January, 19, 1804. "The vacation is over next Tuesday week. I left him on Monday morning last ; but one of the gentlemen-commoners came to Oxford for two or three days, and breakfasted, dined, and supped with us on Sunday, so that I had no opportunity of sjoeaking to him on many things of which I wished to have talked to him. From this, it happened that I said nothing to him of what we talked over that Wednesday night. If I had not thought we should have had all Sunday night to ourselves, I would certainly have spoken of it before; but it is a subject on which I dare not speak to him, except at those moments when he seems happier than usual from my presence. If he is gloomy and dejected, as he is sometimes with me, I know that his mind will be shut to all reasonings favourable to his happiness; and that to touch on that subject would be merely to give him occasion to ovenvhelm me with one of those long bursts of passion and misery to which I can make no answer. He was out of spirits the first two days I was there ; and I thought it most probable that in the last evening he would, from the idea of my going so soon, feel a greater degree of kindness and affection for me, which would keep his mind in a state of gentle feeling, and dispose it more easily to think happily of himself If we had been alone that night, I should have talked it all over with him. I am doubtful whether I ought to write to him about it." This affectionate friend did write to him on the subject, and a few days later he again addresses Findlay : — Hill Top, sunset, Tuesday, 1804. " I am writing to Wilson, and shall send the letter to-morrow, so that he will get it on Thursday morning. I tell him why I am convinced that he is loved ; and what I fear she may be induced to do, both from her delicacy and just pride, which must shrink from the idea of the disapprobation of relations, and from her scrupulous sense of right, which makes her refuse to separate him 72 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. from those relations. I will say, that she is now guided in every- thing she does by the resolution she has formed since he left her, of sacrificing her happiness to her sense of right (she may perhaps think) to his happiness ; and I will, on that account, caution him against writing to her on that sul^ject, because she might have strength of mind to ^vrite a refusal, that would blast all his hopes, and make him never dare to speak of it to her again. My wish is that he should see her next summer, and force from her a confession of her feelings. " See what he thinks about P — . He has talked to me as if he feared she was attached to him. P — left his country when she knew nothing more of Wilson than that he was a fine boy, and I think it very probable that at that time she might feel a grateful atiachment to him for his love to her, and what she might think his generosity. Does Wilson know so little of her and of himself as to dream for a moment that, after knowing him as she has done these last three years, her heart can still hold by one wish to such a man as P — ? If she has formed any engagement to such a man as P — , God help us ! I cannot think it possible. If it had been, she must have acted differently. Her love might overpower in her for a time her sense of what she thinks she owes to the order of society ; while her only restraint was the idea that she ought not to separate Wilson from his family connexions. I can conceive her doing all that she has done with the purest and most virtuous mind, for she acted under a great degree of delusion ; I am con- vinced she did not suspect the consequences to her own heart or to Wilson's. But if she could in the slightest degree look on herself as the property of another, everything becomes utterly incompre- hensible ; a positive engagement leaves no room for delusion, and in that situation a woman of delicate feelings has but one way of acting. I have not time for more. — Yours ever, "Alex, Blair," The next letter in my possession is dated March 7, 1804,* and * It is little more than a mere catalogue of books, but the playful tone in which the commission is rendered, gives interest and not a httle character to the document. " Bob, you scoundrel, did you get my last letter? If you can get any bookseller THE ORPHAN MAID. 73 may be inserted below for the sake of chronological order, as showing the kind of studies which were meantime engaging his attention. From this date down to September of the same year there is no record of his doings. Blair writing to Findlay, September 30th, says : — " I imagine Wilson should be in London about this time to meet his mother. I have not seen him this summer." It may be inferred that he was occupied during the spring with his studies, and struggling as best he could to overcome the dejection of spirits, which, judging from the next letter, did not for a time pass away. During the summer, he went off on a long excursion through Wales, to which he subsequently alludes in no very agree- able terms. It could not fail, however, to arouse his poetic sensi- bilities, and in one of the commonplace books I find a sketch of an intended poem on this subject, entitled " Huits for the Pedestrian." The next glimpse of him from correspondence is in a letter from Blair to Findlay, of date November 24, 1804: — - " Wilson has been walking about in Wales all this summer, and is now at Oxford again. I have not once seen him. He says he is going to Scotland in about five weeks. I believe he had better to trust me under my own name, or me under your name, for the following books, until this time twelvemonths, buy them, and send them down as soon as possible. I think that, with proper management, you may manage to get it done. "Fergusson's Roman Republic, in octavo; don't buy it unless in octavo. 2. Mitford's Greece, in octavo ; don't buy it unless in octavo. 3. Stewart's edition of Reid's Philosophy. This book is only in octavo, therefore don't buy it unless in octavo. 4. Malthus's Essay on Population — an excellent book — read part of it ; most acute thing of the present day. 5. Godwin's Pohtical Justice ; don't buy it unless in octavo. 6. Gillies' Greece in octavo ; don't buy it unless in octavo. 7. Pinkerton's Ancient Scottish Poems ; recollect this is not his Ancient Comic Ballads. 8. All Ritson's publications, except English Romances, and Essay on Abstinence from Animal Food. 9. Hartley on Man ; last edition in three vols, octavo, with notes by some foreigner or another. 10. Trousseau's Works, if cheap and complete ; thirty-four volumes, or perhaps less; but complete, certainly complete. 11. Regnier's History, if tolerably cheap. 12. Turner's History of the Anglo-Saxons, three vols. 13. Any good edition of Gilbert Stuart's Works ; also. Mallet's Northern Antiquities, translated. 15. Bisset's History of this Country. 16. All Pinkerton's works indeed you may buy, except his Geography. If possible, let them all be in boards. "J. Wilson. " Magdalen Collecje, March 1804, " Tuesday Eveubig." 74 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. not. John Finlay'^ is to come back with him. I expect to be in London about the middle or end of January, and I suppose Finlay will come while I am there, and we may settle him comfortably. Wilson says, in speaking of some prize he means to undertake, that he feels the vigour of his mind returning. God grant it! If he will promise to return happy, which I think he may do, from Scotland, his going will be a blessed event; but if he is to come away again in the same miserable uncertainty, it will destroy the little calm he has gained, and repeat the same sufferings with less strength to bear them. I shall see him before he goes." Soon after this he was seized with a fit of illness, which caused much concern to his affectionate correspondents, Blair and Findlay. He quickly recovered, however; and his brother Andrew, then serving at Chatham, on board H.M.S. " Magicienne," writes to Robert on the yth of December, "that he had found him in very good health, but in very bad spirits." His own account of the matter in a letter to Findlay, of December lo, 1804, is sufficiently plain, and needs no comment : — " Though well when Andrew came here, as bad luck would have it, I was taken ill before he left me, but not dangerously, and I am rather better. I believe my complaint is nervous, and mortally affects my spirits. I have a constant beating at my heart, and a wavering of thought resembling a sort of derangement; but I have been bled and feel better. "This wretched complaint has been brought on by my late attempt to bury in unbridled dissipation the recollection of blasted hopes. But God's will be done." Between this date and the next letter, there is a gap of ten months. Of what passed in the interval, there is no memorial beyond the allusions in his letter, from which we gather that he travelled during the summer in the north of England and in Ire- land; that a considerable portion of the holidays was spent among the Lakes; and that there and then he seized the opportunity offered of becoming the proprietor of Elleray, one of the loveliest * John Finlay, a young poet of great promise, author of Wallace, or Die Vale of Ellerslie; Historical and Romantic Ballads, etc., etc., was born in 1782, and died at Moffat in 1810. Wilson wrote an account of his life and writings in Blackwood for November 1817. UNIVERSITY CAREER. 75 spots in which a poet ever fixed his home. This letter is dated London, October 3, 1805, and is written in a cheerful strain, yet betraying the overhanging of the clouds, which were deepening over his love prospects, though for a brief space breaking into delusive sunshine :* — London, October 3, 1805. " Mv Dear Bob, — I received your letter in a wonderfully short time after it was written, considering the extensive tour of his Majesty's dominion it had judged it expedient to take before condescending to pay me a visit. It spent the greatest part of the summer in visiting Oxford, London, Scarborough, Harrogate, Edin- burgh, and the various post-towns of Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire. When it finally reached me, its visage was wofuUy begrimed with dirt, and its sides squeezed into a shape far from epistolary. It truly cut a most ridiculous appearance, and indeed was ashamed of itself, for it made its escape from my possession the day after I first cast salt upon its tail ; and as I have never seen it since, I am led to suppose that it may have once more set out on its travels, in which case you probably will meet wth it soon in Glasgow. " I was not a Httle provoked to find, that during my solitary rambles in Ireland, you were improving yourself in polite accom- plishments among the mountains of Wales. The rapidity with which you travelled, seems to have been astonishing and praise- worthy. " I do not feel myself in a mood just now to give you any account of my Irish expedition, which afforded me all the possible varieties of pain, and a good many modifications of pleasure. It was prolific in adventure and scrape, and made me acquainted with strange bedfellows. Had you been with me, I am sure we would have enjoyed it more than you could well imagine. I have spent this summer at Scarborough, Harrogate, and the Lakes. The weather has been sufficiently bad to provoke an old sow to commit * As he in after life jaid, ' ' Sometimes, my dear Shepherd, my hfe from eighteen to twenty-four is an utter blank, like a moonless midnight ; at other times, oh ! what a refulgent day ! " — Nodes xxxv. lC-> MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. suicide — a fact which actually took place near Ambleside. The creature cut its throat with a hand-saAV. " . . . I have bought some ground on Windermere Lake, but whether in future years I may live there, I know not. I think that a settled life will never do for me ; and I often lament that I did not enter the army or navy, a thing which is now entirely impossible. While I keep moving, life goes on well enough, but whenever I pause, the fever of the soul begins. John Wilson." There is no letter again for a period of six months ; and we are left to imagine that the interval was filled up with alternations of gloom and gaiety, of hard study and hard living. He was giving himself, like the royal preacher, not only " to know wisdom," but to know also " madness and folly." The mention of Margaret is briefer than hitherto, even slightly suggestive of constraint, and one begins to see some shadowing of the truth in that sentence of the Essay on "Streams:" — "For two years of absence and of distance brought a strange, dim, misty haze over the fires — supposed un- quenchable — of our hearts ; then came suspicion, distrust, wrathful jealousy, and stone-eyed despair ! " It had not come to that yet, for, before the curtain closes on this love-drama, there is one glimpse of ecstatic happiness, followed only by deeper gloom and unbroken silence. The next letter is addressed to Findlay, and dated Oxford, April 13, 1806. " My Dearest Robert, — If I have not answered your letter so soon as perhaps I should have done, it was neither from being indifferent to the very agreeable contents of it, nor careless of that happiness which I see awaits you in life, and which no soul on earth deserves better than you. Most genuine satisfaction it did give me to hear of the kindness which your father's memory has procured you. " In your case it may justly be said that a good man's righteous- ness is an inheritance to his children. That happiness, prosperity, and peace may ever attend you, is a wish I need not express to one who knows me so well as you do. As to myself, I have not a very UNIVERSITY CAREER. 77 great deal to say. 1 am going on pretty much in the old way, sometimes unhappy enough, God knows ! and at other times tolerably comfortable. " I believe that I live rather too hard, and I have formed a very determined resolution to change my ways ; but it is one thing to make a resolution and another to keep it. 1 have certainly led a dissipated life for some time, but, ' Wine, they say, drives off despair, And bids even hope remain, And that is sure a reason fair To fill my glass again. ' " I expected to have heard something from D., informing me of your intention relative to our summer tour to the lakes. I wrote him how I was situated at present ; but I would like to hear how your intentions are, as I might perhaps accommodate myself in a great measure to them. I am uncertain whether I shall be in Scot- land again for some years. If you could meet me at the lakes in July early, even without our other friends, I think we might pass the time most happily. But I expect to hear from you very soon at great length. By the bye, I know not what excuse to make for not having visited Torrance. If ever you see Margaret, I wish you would tell how happy you know I would have been to see her, but that it could have been only for an hour or two, and that I therefore put off the happiness till I could stay a day or two with her in a few months. Perhaps she may attribute to coldness what arose from the deepness of love. It will give me sincere happiness to hear often and soon from you. Everything interesting to you will interest me, so omit nothing of that kind. " Remember me kindly to Finlay and Smith, and to all you love, mother and sisters. Blair is with me, and wishes you well. — Yours ever, John Wilson." It would appear from the following letter, written from his mother's house in Edinburgh, that the tour to the lakes was changed for one in the Highlands of Scotland, which, during the space of six weeks' time, was agreeably spent by the aforesaid friends : •J?. MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " S3 Queen Street, Edinburgh. yu/y 29, 1806. "My Dear Bob, — I have long been conjecturing the reason of your unconjecturable silence. What in the name of wonder are you about ? I had a letter from Dunlop, telling me you proposed accompanying us to the Highlands. I hope you will do so. Both Dunlop and myself are good fellows, but we should get d — ly tiresome without a third. I think the best way will be to meet at Stirling. I shall be there on Saturday the 9th, by five o'clock, and whoever arrives first can order dinner for the others. You can let me know of the inn we had best go to. It would be a foolish waste of time for you and Dunlop to come to Edinburgh, except in the case of going to St. Andrews, which I strongly give my vote against. — I am thine ever, John Wilson." There are no more letters dated from Oxford or elsewhere for some months. The next to which we come is, however, of deep interest. It is from Blair to Findlay, of date March 19, 1807, giving an account of Wilson's examination for his Bachelor Degree : — "My Dear Robert, — About a fortnight ago, Wilson wrote to me to desire I would go to him immediately, and he would tell me what had happened with regard to /ler. I went, of course, and found him very much distressed, with a degree of anxiety that I could not have conceived, about his examination, which was to come on in a few days. If his mind had had its former strength tliis, he said, would not have affected him, he had no strength left. The terror of this examination preyed so on his mind, that for ten days before I saw him he had scarcely slept any night more than an hour or two. I wish to know from you, what it is that has happened in Scotland, that has shaken his mind to this degree — for he has not spoken a word on the subject to me — and I could not begin to speak of it, after having seen, as I have seen, the state into which it threw him, to give way to his feelings. I could not begin a conversation that was to terminate in such bursts of anguish as I have witnessed. UNIVERSITY CAREER. 79 " Write to me as soon as you can to tell me this, though you should have time to write nothing more. When he walked from this college to the schools, he went along in full conviction that he was to be plucked. His examination was, as might naturally be ex- pected, the most illustrious within the memoiy of man. Sotheby was there, and declared it was worth coming from London to hear him translate a Greek chorus. I was exceedingly pleased with Shepherd, his examiner, who seemed highly delighted at having got hold of him, and took much pains to show him off. Indeed he is given to show people off; and those who know little are said not to relish the operation, so that his name is a name of terror, but nothing could be luckier for John than his strict, close style of examination. " The mere riddance of that burden, which had sat so long on his thoughts, was enough to make him dance; but he was also elated with success and applause, and was in very high spirits after it. I left him last night," The examination was truly, to use his private tutor's expression, a " glorious " one. " // marked the scholar" is the measured but emphatic phrase of the formidable Mr Shepherd, in referring to it. " I can never forget," said another of the examiners, the Rev. Richard Dixon, Fellow and Tutor of Queen's, " the very splendid examination which you passed in this University ; an examination which afforded the strongest proofs of very great application, and genius, and scholarship, and which produced such an impression on the minds of the Examiners, as to call forth (a distinction very rarely conferred) the public expression of our approbation and thanks."* * From subsequent testimonies regarding his Oxford studies and reputation, a few may in this place be inserted. The Rev. Benjamin Cheese, who was his private tutor during the last two years of his University course, thus referred to that period : — "Among all my pupils I never met with one who read with greater zest the sublime pages of the Greek tragedians, or penetrated with the same rapid acuteness into the abstruse difficulties of Aristotle. The analyses which you then made for me of the Ethics, Rhetoric, and Poetics of that great philosopher, I still preserve as a memorial of you. I never refer to them without regretting that your Oxford examination for a degree took place previously to the introduction of the new system, under which men are now arranged in distinct classes, according to their real merits, as I am well assured that the public appearance which you then made (for I was myself present on 8o MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. Little did these Examiners and admiring friends imagine with what feelings John Wilson had walked into the schools that morning, "in the full conviction that he was to be plucked." Little did they know, as they propounded difficulties in Greek choruses and the Ethics, of the more oppressing thought that had made the last ten nights so dreadful, — "what had happened with regard to her T' Compared with that, what to him was Hecuba, or Antigone either ? On this subject, let it be noted, he did not open his lips to the beloved friend whom he had expressly summoned, that he might tell him "what had happened." And that sympathizing friend, who had hastened to hear and to console, religiously held his peace, and " could not begin to speak of it, after having seen the state into which it threw him;" and had to go elsewhere for information. It is altogether a singular exhibition of character on both sides, reminding one of those old Easterns who sat seven days speechless before their friend, " for they saw that his grief was very great." the glorious occasion) would now fully entitle you to the very highest honours which our University can bestow." " He was always considered by me," writes the Rev. William Russell, Fellow ol Magdalen College, "and by other members of the College in which we were edu- cated, to be a man of strong powers of mind, great industry and zeal for learning, and no ordinary degree of taste. His College exercises and compositions invariably displayed much genius and skill in argument ; and the small poem on Sculpture, Architecture, and Painting, which gained the University Prize, given by the late Sir Roger Newdigate, on the first year of its establishment, was esteemed on all hands to be a superior specimen of talent. And I can truly say, that the reputation he acquired during his residence in Oxford, not only in our own Society, but in the University at large, remains fresh amongst us, though many years have elapsed since he left lis, and many others of high talent have arisen during that period to attract our admiration." The venerable President of his College, Dr Routh, bore similar testimony : — " I can safely say, that amongst the non-foundationers of Magdalen College, who are generally about twelve in number, I do not recollect any one during my long residence in it, who has had an ec|ual share of reputation with yourself for great natural abilities, united with extensive literary acquirements. I remember the satisfaction I generally felt at the appearance you made at the examinations in classical authors, held thrice in the year within the College, and have often perused with delight that elegant composition which obtained a University prize, and whose only fault seemed to be that it was too short. The Rev. Charles Thorp, formerly a Fellow of University College, Oxford, says, " Your character and talents were known to me when I was a tutor at Oxford, and yourself a student there, before I had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with you ; an acquaintance I so\i<;lu and prized, and have always wished to improve.'* UNIVERSITY CAREER. 8l What it was that had " happened with regard to //ourney. The intelligence of Bonaparte's 10^ MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. fii'sh descent upon that country caused the breaking off ahke of their plan and their studies. The following letter addressed about this time to his friend Mr Harden, who was about to proceed to Edinburgh to edit the Caledonian Mercury,* gives some idea of the state of his mind and prospects : — " My dear Harden, — I received your interesting letter this morning about an hour ago, and cannot delay answering it for a single day, deeply concerned as I feel myself in everything that regards your happiness. That you are to leave the clouds and mountains of this our delightful land, gives me, as far as my selfish emotions go, much real pain. I need not say how many happy days I have passed at Brathay, and how affectionately I regard the family living within its walls. Our friendship, which I fear not, in spite of absence or distance, will continue with unabated sincerity, was voluntary on both sides ; and during the few years we have known each other, neither of us has found cause to repent of the affection bestowed. That the determination you have formed is in all respects right, I firmly believe, and the consciousness of having in part sacrificed enjoyments so dear to you, for the sake of those you tenderly love, will no doubt for ever secure your happiness. "After all, you will appear to me in the light of a distant neigh- bour, and when you have leisure to come to your beloved and beauteous lakes, if the smoke of Elleray is on the air, you know where you and yours will experience an affectionate welcome. " That you will find the paper a good concern there is no doubt ; and, at the same time, I cannot see that there will be anything very irksome in it. Living at this distance, and being no very vehement admirer of daily politics, I fear it will not be often in my power to give you eftectual assistance. Anything I can do will at all times be cheerfully communicated. And, in the first place, a copy of the paper will not be amiss. Please mark what are your lucubrations. Of Oxford politics I neither know much nor care a great deal. Oxford has long been sunk beneath the love or admiration of thoughtful men, in spite of all her magnificence and all her learning. The contest has ere now been decided, though I have not heard * Mr Allan, the proprietor, was Mr Harden's father-in-law. LIFE AT ELLERAY. 109 the result. If I find that anything interesting can be said on the election of the Chancellor,* I shall transmit it to you in a frank, and you car either burn it or print it, as you think proper. "On this subject, therefore, let me conclude with every warm wish for your success; and may your residence in Edinburgh afford every enjoyment you can desire. "As for myself, all my plans of delight and instruction, at least on one great subject, are for the present abandoned. It would be tedious to enter into a detail of all unlucky causes which have occasioned this. Such as they are, they could not in the present juncture be avoided ; and I have at least the satisfaction to know, that my plans failed not from any want of zeal or determination on my part " I have not, however, by any means relinquished my scheme of going to Spain, and whether we shall meet this summer or not seems very doubtful. I agree with you that travelhng will make me, for some years at least, happier than anything else. The knowledge it bestows can be acquired by no other means, and, unless a man be married, it seems very absurd to remain, during the prime of his youth, in one litde corner of the world, beautiful and glorious as that corner may be. I do not, I hope, want either ballast or cargo or sail, but I do want an anchor most confoundedly, and, without it, shall keep beating about the great sea of life to very little purpose. Since I left Edinburgh, I have had a very dear old friend staying with me, and we have studied to the wonder of the three counties. We have made some progress in Spanish, though not much, the perplexity attending our change of scheme having occasioned some little interruption. 1 have written many poems, some of considerable length, which I may some night or other repeat to you over a social glass, or a twinkling fire. "A little elegy I wrote on poor little Margaret Harden t last spring, and which I promised to send to your mother, has been lost. I shall, however, endeavour to recollect it the first time I can vividly recall the melancholy event that gave rise to it. Let it be considered as the affectionate sympathy of a friend. I am, you know, the worst correspondent breathing ; yet to hear from you * Lord Grenville. t A daughter of his friend. 1 1 o MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. often and minutely, as to your pleasures and occupations will always afford me genuine satisfaction. " While I write this, your paintings of Stavely and the Brathay smile sweetly upon me, though all without doors is wild and stormy, It being the most complete hurricane I ever saw at Elleray. The windows of the parlour have, during the night, been almost entirely destroyed, and the floor is literally swimming. I cannot conclude without again observing what pleasure I shall have in hearing from you, especially while you are just entering on such a new scheme of life." About the same time he took an excursion into Scotland. Before starting, he addressed De Quincey as follows : — " My dear De Quincey, — I am obliged to leave this to-morrow for Glasgow. I therefore trouble you with this note in case you should think of coming over during my absence. I expect to return to Elleray in a few days, yet there is an uncertainty attending every motion of mine, and possibly of yours also. If you are ready for a start, I will go with you to-morrow on foot through Kentmere and Hawesda^e to Penrith, and on Monday you can easily return by Ulleswater to Grasmere. The fine weather may induce you.-* if you feel a wish to look at Glasgow and Edinburgh, would you take a trip with me on the top of the coach ? I will pledge myselt to return with you within eight days. If so, or if you agree to the first plan only, my pony or horse is with my servant who carries this, and you can come here upon it. I hope you will do so. There is no occasion for wardrobe. I take nothing with me, and we can get a change of linen. The expense will be small to us. — Yours ever affectionately, John Wilson. "Ellekay, Saturday, 1809." Of this pedestrian excursion we have a glimpse in the biographical notice of his friend John Finlay, with whom they spent a few hours at Moffat, t * The proposal to walk over so much ground proclaims De Quincey to have been no weak pedestrian. Although he was a man considerably under height and slender of form, he was capable of undergoing great fatigue, and took constant exercise. The very fact of his being a walking com.panion of Wilson's speaks well for his strength, which was not unfrequently taxed when such a tryst was kept. Perhaps in later years, of the two men he preserved his activity more entire. ■f* Blackwood, vol. ii. p. 188. LIFE AT ELLERAY. iil I now come to speak of his poetry, and I am fortunately enabled, from the preservation of his letters to his friend Mr John Smith, the Glasgow publisher, to give some account of his first publication, for which the materials should otherwise have been wanting. The first trace I find in ms. of poems afterwards published is in the year 1807. A small notebook contains a considerable number of sonnets, com- posed in the autumn of that year, a selection from which appeared among the miscellaneous pieces appended to The Isle of Palms. His commoni)lace books contain the whole of the latter poem, parts of it apparently written down for the first time, and other parts being final copies of the work as sent for revision to his friend Blair. The alterations in the first draught are more of entire passages than of phrases. It is evident that he never composed without first forming a clear conception of what he intended to embody in each particular poem. The prose outlines of some pieces in these books are sometimes so full as to require only their translation into verse to entitle them to the name of poems. Of this the sketch entitled " Red Tarn," already given, ma\- be taken as a specimen. The contents of these books show, in fact, that poetry was not a mere amusement with him, but a serious study, and that he had in those days very extensive plans of composition, on which he entered with an earnest desire to use well the gifts with which he had been endowed.* His first communication on the subject to Mr Smith is from Edinburgh, and is as follows : — "Edinburgh, 53 Queen Street, " Wednesday Evening, December 13, i8io. " Dear Sir, — I have, during the three last years written a * Dr Blair, in a letter, has expressed to me the following opinion : — "I have been always at a loss to know why your father did not follow further his youthful impulsion towards verse. I thought him endowed beyond all the youthful poets of his day, and in some powers beyond any of his contemporaries. I believe he had more of absolute deep and glowing enthusiasm than any of them. He might require a severe intellec- tual discipline and learned study to balance that natural fire and energy for the com- position of a great work. But he had both will and ability for severe thought, and he had the capacity for searching and comprehensive inquiry, and such a wonderful power of storing materials and of managing them to his use, that I never could, nor can I now, understand why, loving poetry as he did, he left it. He had a flood of eloquence which not one of the other poets who have lived in his day had or has." This is the opinion of the man most familiar with my father's mind 112 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. luimber of poems on various subjects, from which I intend to form a selection for the press. The principal poem, entitled The Isle of Palms, which will give its name to the volume, is descriptive of sea and island scenery, and contains a love-stor}'. It is nearly 2000 lines. The second is entitled "The Anglers' Tent." It contains nearly forty stanzas of seventeen lines each, in the same measure as Collins' Ode on the Superstitions of the Highlands. The third is a blank verse poem upon Oxford. The rest it is needless to particu- larize. I can furnish as many poems as will make a volume of 350 or 400 pages. As you have an opportunity of knowing the probable merit of any works of mine from Finlay, Blair, and others, I offer my poems in the first place to you. In a publication of such mag- nitude, I feel my own character deeply concerned, and will therefore insert nothing that does not please myself. The volume might in size resemble the octavo edition of the Lady of the Lake, and sell for the same price. "If you are willing to purchase from me the copyright of 400 pages, such as I have described, I am ready to listen to your terms. I may, without presumption, say that at Oxford my name would sell many copies, nor am I unknown either in Cambridge or London. But you will judge for yourself. I am not a man who would thoughtlessly risk his reputation by a trivial or careless publication. " I would prefer disposing entirely of the copyright to any other plan, as I wish to be free from all trouble or anxiety about it. In the case of a first publication I know that booksellers ought to be cautious. But I am now past the days of boyhood, and I feel that I shall come before the world, if not in the fulness of my strength, at least with few )outhful weaknesses. " As I am uncertain of being soon in Glasgow, I shall expect an answer to this as quickly as convenient to yourself. Should we agree about this volume, I have other works in contemplation that I know will attract public notice.-^I am. Sir, your obedient Servant, "John Wilson." A few days subsequently he replied to Mr Smith's proposals; part of which was that the work was to be printed by Ballantyne : — " My Dear Sir, — Your proposals seem perfectly reasonable and LIFE AT ELLERAY. 113 lionourable, and I have no objection to agree to them. I have to mention, however, that it will be impossible for me to have my ])oems ready for publication as soon as you wish. I was indeed ignorant of the season of publication, and also imagined that the printing would take much more time than I understand it will do. " For a few months to come my time will not, I fear, be at my own disposal ; for besides several important engagements, I have been very unwell lately, and may perhaps be obliged to take a short voyage somewhere. Considering all these circumstances, it would seem that the publication of my poems must be deferred for a con- siderable time. Perhaps, on the whole, this may be of advantage. " I cannot believe that a volume of that size could be printed in less than four months from the commencement of printing it. You will consider, therefore, of this hasty note, and arrange matters with Ballantyne, etc., etc. — I am, yours truly, John Wilson." In April 181 1 he writes from EUeray. He is on the eve of being married, and wants all the ready money he can get. He proposes, therefore, to dispense with some of those standard works " which no gentleman's library should be without," — Annual Registers, Parliamentary Histories, Statistical Accounts, best editions of various Classics in Russia, etc., etc. " Elleray, Tuesday tnorning, "{April 181 1.) " My Dear Sir, — Since my arrival here I have been tolerably busy, and have written several small poems that please me, and it is to be hoped will produce the same effect on several thousand of the judicious part of the reading world. " My second longest poem I have also given the last polish to, and it now looks very imposingly. In a week or two, when the spring has a little advanced, I shall emigrate to the ' Isle of Palms,' and build myself a cottage there, both elegant and commodious, and subject to no taxation. I have this day written to Blair about Finlay, and expect to hear all particulars from him. If anything further has occurred about his affairs in Glasgow, I should like to hear from you. H 114 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. "The principal object of my present letter is to speak to you about some books I wish to part with, being either tired of them or having duplicates. "The following is a list of some of the best. If they suit you, you will take them, or any part of them, at your own price, most of them being books that you could sell easily. . . . " Out of these, I think, you might find some that might suit you well. I go to Liverpool to-morrow, to James Penny, Esq., Seel Street, where I should like to hear from you on receipt of this. You might make something upon them, and I be enabled to take a litde longer marriage jaunt, in these hard times, money being scarce. " On my return, I shall send you some portion of my manuscript, of which, if you make any use beyond yourself, I don't fear it will be judicious. Remember that few are entitled to pass judgment on poetry. — I am, dear Sir, yours very truly, John Wilson. " P.S. — Should you ever publish any edition of any poet, and wish for preface etc., you know where to apply." MARRIAGE. 1 15 CHAPTER YI. MARRIAGE.— "ISLE OF PALMS," 1S11-15. On the nth of May i8ii, the following letter was written by Wilson to his friend Findlay : — "Ambleside, May 11, 181 1. " Dearest Robert, — I was this morning married to Jane Penny, and doubt not of receiving your blessing, which, from your brotherly heart, will delight me, and doubtless not be unheard by the Almighty. She is in gentleness, innocence, sense, and feeling, surpassed by no woman, and has remained pure, as from her Maker's hands. Surely if I know myself I am not deficient m kindness and gentleness of nature, and will to my dying hour love, honour, and worship her. It is a mild and peaceful day, and my :-pirit feels calm and blest. You know what it is to possess a beloved woman's affections, and such possession now makes me return grateful thanks to my God, and remember former afflictions with resignation and gratitude. On this tranquil day of nature and delight, to think of my earliest, best, oh ! best-beloved friend, I may say, adds a solemn feeling to my dreams, and your most affectionate heart will, I am sure, be made glad to hear such words from my hps. In my heart you will ever live among images of overpowering tenderness, and to hear from you when convenient will ever gladden him who never felt, thought, or uttered a word to you but those of affection and gratitude. God bless }-ou, my dearest Robert, )Our wife, and all tliat you love 1 — I am, your kindest brother, John Wjlsux." I 1 6 MEMOIR OF JOfLV JJVLSO.V. I don't know if any man ever conveyed the intimation of his marriage in terms more unaffectedly beautiful than these. In their quiet depth of natural affection that inner spirit is truly revealed, which, amid all varieties of energy and enjoyment, ever found its most congenial life among the tender sanctities of home, and connected its highest delights with a genuine sense of religion. Thenceforth his life had a deeper purpose, and his home was a [ilace of pure sunshine, whatever clouds darkened the sky without. Of her who made it so, it may be said, she was "A blooming lady — a conspicuous flower ; Admired for beauty, for her sweetness praised ; Whom he had sensibility to love, Ambition to attempt, and skill to win ; " one in whose gentleness and goodness he found long years of happiness. His energies were not called forth by the mere humour of the hour to prove what they were, but by the solemn realization of the high purpose for which they were given. He did not make the usual wedding tour, but took his bride directly to his cottage home. The fascination of his new life did not, however, engross him to the exclusion of work, much temp- tation as there was to a blissful idleness in his lot. The various expensive tastes he indulged, as well as his generous habits, could not have been so constantly exercised, had he not been in the enjoyment of a large fortune. No doubt he lived both at Oxford and Elleray with the free munificence of one who understood the charms of hospitality, and the satisfaction of bestowing pleasure upon others, but at neither period was he wasteful or careless of money. At the time of his marriage, therefore, he was in easy circumstances, and his wife's fortune, added to his own, made him a rich man. Ihere was no care for the future; worldly matters were in a smiling condition ; everything around the young couple was coulcw de rose. Days passed away quickly ; nothing disturbed the life of love and peace spent in that beautiful cottage home. Children were born ; and to live at Elleray for ever was the design of the poet who loved to look upon MARRIAGE, I 17 ' ' The glorious sun That made Winander one wide wave of gold, When first in transport from the mountain-top He hailed the heavenly vision." These halcyon days were ere long interrupted by misfortune. But though that stern schooling was necessary to the full develop- ment of Wilson's character and powers, he had already, as we ha\e seen, determined to give the world some fruit of his meditative hours during these apparently idle years at EUeray. Three months after his marriage he again addressed Mr Smith on the subject of his poems : — " Elleray, August II, 1811. " It is now so long since you have heard from me, that I daresay you begin to entertain rational doubts of my existence. I am, how- ever, alive and well ; better both in mind and body than when I last saw you, and unless the damnation of my poems affect my health and spirits, likely for a considerable time to be off the sick-list. "So many things have occurred, if not to occupy, at least to interrupt my time since my marriage, which took place on the nth of May, that I thought it best not to write you till I found myself in some measure settled, and in a hopeful way of doing some good. I have written a considerable number of poems of a smaller size since my marriage, so that were the first poems of the collection finished, I think I have ms. enough for a volume of 400 pages, which I am desirous it should be. I know not how it is, but I have felt a strange disinclination to work at the longest poem ; but on receiving your answer, all minor occupations shall be laid aside, and the work be proceeded with in good earnest. Indeed, such is my waywardness of fancy, that I feel constantly impelled to write each day on a different subject, which I should be prevented from doing were a day fixed for the commencement of the printing. Suppose we say that on the ist of October everything shall be ready for going to press; and if so, you may depend upon it that the press shall never be allowed to remain idle one day for want of matter. It would seem most satisfactory for me to retain the m.s. of my poems in my own hands, except such quantity as need be in the printer's hands. Thus, I will send the longest poem by cantos, Ii8 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. there being four, and so on. I cannot in a letter sufficiently explain my reasons for wishing this ; but unless you agree to it, it will be very painful to me, and I am confident it will be for the interest of the work. With respect to preface, I am doubtful if I shall have one ; if so, it will consist of a very few pages, two or three at the most. I suppose the preface will be numbered separately from the poems, and therefore may be printed after them, should I like it, and in like manner the title-page, etc. " With respect to the size of the volume, I am still partial to that of Marmion; or, if you choose, a little smaller, only as many or more lines in each page. A thinly printed book of that size looks very badly. There will be verses of many different measures, though none exceeding twelve syllables. I think that a rather smaller type would look better, since the poems are miscellaneous. But all these particulars I leave to yourself I shall expect to hear from you as soon as you can decidedly fix matters with me, and I hope that you will find me a tracta])le and reasonable author. The .sooner everything is fixed the better, as otherwise I shall never set to with invincible fury. If the printing can commence by the beginning of October, the first book of the Isle of Palms will be sent to you by the loth of September. You should also advertise the work in the literary notices of the Reviews, and immediately ; i)Ut all this I will leave to yourself." " Elleray, Kendal, September 17, 1811. "Dear Smith, — I send you at last the first canto of the Isle of Palms, ready for the press. " I had expected Mr Blair here to revise the poem, but he did not come, so I had to send it to him, and he returned it only yesterday, without any alteration (though with many compliments), and I had to fill up the blanks myself The manuscript is in Mi Blair's handwriting, and is, I trust, legible. As to punctuation, I suppose the printer uses his discretion. " I am going on correcting and writing, and certainly never will keep the press waiting for me. The proofs will, of course, be sent to me ; but I conceive that double roofs are altogether un- necessary. "THE ISLE OF PALMS." 1 19 " Let it go to press immediately, and write me when you think it right to inform me of your proceedings. "The first canto will, I believe, occupy 32 pages at all events, as there are nearly 600 lines. "You will give strict injunctions to Ballantyne to let no one see the proof-sheets. For the Isle of Palms is a wdld tale, and must not be judged of piecemeal. But there are many reasons for this. "J. Wilson." " Elleray, Sept. 27 and 2^, 1811. " I am glad that you are pleased with the manuscript on the whole. The introductory stanzas are perhaps not, at first reading, and in manuscript, very perspicuous ; but they were written upon principle, and will, I doubt not, give pleasure when the canto is thought of together, and distinctly embraced in one whole. Blair and Wordsworth were both delighted with them, and, as I shall have a very short preface, I am not afraid of their seeming obscure. At the same time, I shall be obliged to you for any remarks of the kind, as, though I have written nothing without due thought, all hints should be, and will be attended to. and gratefully received. "I am in daily expectation of receiving the second canto from Blair, written over in the same manner, and think you may be expecting it on Thursday. Indeed fear not of having regular and sufficient supplies. " The whole Isle of Palms is of a wild character, though, I trust, sufficiently interspersed and vivified with human feelings to interest generally and deeply. Its wildness and romantic character being quaUties that suff"er greatly by piecemeal quotation, render me desirous of its being seen entire or not at all ; but still this is not a matter of much importance, as I fear nothing when the poem comes before the public. I know the public taste, and neither will violate nor cringe to it., and with its own merits, and the respectable way in which it will be given to the world, I am fearless of its success. I find that the Isle of Palms will be nearer 3000 than 2000 lines. Of the other poems, I know there are many that will be more popular, and, therefore, I expect that, as the printing proceeds, you I20 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. will see reason to confide in those hopes of my success which you have already been good enough to entertain. "On the whole, I think Ballantyne ought to print the work, it you can make good terms with him. Blue stockings are dirty things, but not very deleterious. " Next letter, I expect to hear from you positively when you begin printing, that I may never be from home, and keep the devils from getting cool. In ten days I shall have sent you the first three cantos, containing above 2000 lines, and then I am not afraid of my heels being pressed upon, as correction will be my only task. " All the booksellers in Oxford know me well. Indeed, I once talked to Parker about publishing some poems there, but, though he was most wilHng to undertake it, I afterwards changed my mind, for the University is but a dullish spot, though undoubtedly many copies will be sold there. " The whole copy shall be sent in Blair's writing, or in a hand still better ; and if there are any directions necessary about correcting the press, of which you think it probable I may be ignorant, you will instruct me. I am still in hopes of Blair coming here soon. " Poor Grahame, I hear, is gone ; let me hear some particulars ; he was a truly estimable being." The reference here is to the Rev. James Grahame, author of "The Sabbath," and other poems. My father greatly esteemed him and his poetry, and at this time composed an Elegy to his memory,* which was published anonymously while the Isle of Pahns was going through the press. Another letter is sent by and by along with the third canto of the Isle of Palms, wnich had been kept some time by Mr Blair. He says : — "I expect you will like it fully more than any of the preceding ; and Blair thinks it equal to any poetry of modern times. The fourth canto I will send to him this day ; so Ballan- tyne will have it in time, although I fear he has been stopped for want of this one, which will never again be owing to me. * "Lines sacred to the memory of the Rev. James Grahame, author of 'The Sabbath,' etc. 'A man he was to all the country dear.' 4to. Glasgow: Smith and Son." "THE ISLE OF palms:' I2T "I have had a long letter from John Ballantyne most anxiously requesting a share in the work, or any concern in it that I would grant, so that his name should appear in the imprint. He wishes to have 500 copies to [sell], but on what terms I do not very clearly understand. " I think that if he could be allowed some kind of share or con- nexion with it, it might be well, as he has, I suppose, good con- nexion-. I wi.sh to hear from you immediately upon this subject, and I cannot answer his letter till I know your wishes and vieMs on it. It augurs well, his anxiety. Should you wish to see his letter? He says that Longman is now preparing his winter cata- logue ; and that insertion of the title there would double the first demand. This seems fudge, although same time it should be sent for insertion in that catalogue, of which you probably know more than I do. I have advertised the work in the Kendal paper, and shall in one or two of the Liverpook " Let me hear from you if the paper has been sent to Ballantyne, and if you think the work may be out by Christmas. Stir Ballan- tyne up with a long pole, and henceforth depend upon my being punctual." From these and other letters, it will be seen that the poet was by no means a careless man of business ; and that if he was pretty confident of success, he did not neglect any means to secure it. In his next letter he complains bitterly of the delay in the print- ing, not having heard from Ballantyne for a month, and then proceeds to give some practical suggestions regarding the lines on Grahame : — "The copies of the 'Lines, etc.,' came safely to hand. Thev are exceedingly well printed and accurate in all respects. One copy T gave to Lloyd; the other to my wife's sister, both of whom were greatly pleased. I find that it will be in my power to distri- bute a few copies without suspicion ; and there is a bookseller in Kendal who would, I think, dispose of half a dozen very easily. Send me, therefore, per coach, a dozen copies ; six to my own account, and six for the trade, which I will send to the bookseller in Kendal ; and if he sells them, he will account to me for them. Let me hear how they take ; now that Edinburgh is filling, perhaps 122 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSOISf. some copies will be going off. I would wish a copy to be sent to Mr Alison, and one to Mr Morehead, the Episcopal clergyman in Edinburgh, with ' from the author ' on the title-page. Grahame was known about Carlisle, and I should think some of the trade there would take copies ; Durham also. Are there any inquiries made after the author ? Is it attributed to any one ? You should tell a paragraph to be extracted from it in each of the Edinburgh papers ; perhaps the same two as in the Glasgow papers. Some copies would sell in Oxford if seen there ; I should also think in Liverpool. A passage ought also to appear in the London Courier and in the Scots Magazine ; and also very early in other magazines. It is perhaps not worth all this trouble." The elegy attracted considerable attention, and a second edition was soon called for. His next letter is written in December : — " I have had many letters from Edinburgh highly commending the ' Lines,' which I understand are considerable favourites there, though I find I am strongly suspected in that quarter. With respect to giving my name you may now use your own discretion." At Christmas he was in Edinburgh at his mother's, with his young wife and her sisters. He writes to Mr Smith : — "The volume gets on tolerably. Page 250 has gone to press this day. All the manuscript is in Ballantyne's hands. He thinks the volume would not be the worse of being 450 pages. In that case, would you wish the lines on Grahame to be included ? Fer- gusson, Cranstoun, and Glassford think them better than anything Grahame himself has written. The Eclectic is favourable enough, but stupid enough too 1 Who, in writing an elegy, would give a critical dissertation on a poem? The motto is a good one, and the punctuation excellent, except in two cases, which do not destroy the sense. " Walter Scott talks to me in great terms of what he has seen of the ' Isle.' The elder Ballantyne is in raptures, and prophesies * Sir Walter, writing to Miss Joanna Baillie about this time, says : — " The author of the elegy upon poor Grahame is John Wilson, a young man of very considerable poetical powers. He is now engaged upon a poem called the ' Isle of Palms," some- thing in the style of Southey. He is an eccentric genius, and has fixed himself on the banks of Windermere, but occasionally resides in Edinburgh where he now is. He seems an excellent, warm-hearted, and enthusiastic young man : something too much, perhaps, of the latter quality, places him among the list of originals." "THE ISLE OF PALMS." T23 great popularity. Considerable expectations are formed here- among the blues of both sexes, and I am whirled into the vortex of fashion here in consequence. "I shall say nothing to any one of the dedication. Send Mr M'Latchie a copy of the 'Lines,' 'with the author's affectionate regard,' and one to Mr Gill with my ' respectful compliments.' " You ought certainly to come here before the publication, and soon, to arrange everything. I think we shall attract some atten- tion." A little glimpse of the life at 53 Queen Street, and the pleasant footing subsisting between the relatives gathered there, is afforded m a note of young Mrs Wilson's about this time to her sister. She thanks " Peg" for her note, which, she says, "was sacred to myself It is not my custom, you may tell her, to show my letters to John." She goes on to speak of Edinburgh society, dinners and evening parties, and whom she most likes. The Rev. Mr Morehead is " a great favourite;" Mr Jeffrey is a " horrid little man," but "held in as high estimation here as the Bible." Mrs Wilson, senior, gives a ball, and 150 people are invited. "The girls are looking forward to it with great delight. Mrs Wilson is very nice with them, and lets them ask anybody they like. There is n*ot the least restraint put upon them. John's poems will be sent from here next week. The large size is a guinea, and the small one twelve shillings." After sundry delays from want of paper or other causes, the volume duly appeared on the 20th of February 18 12, entitled The Isle of Pa!i>is, and other Poems, by John Wilson. The potent name of Longman, whose catalogue could work such wonders, came first, followed by those of Ballantyne and Co., Edinburgh, and John Smith and Son, Glasgow. It was affectionately dedicated to the author's old teacliers, Professors Jardine and Young. How the work was received may be gathered from his own letters. Poets are seldom entirely satisfied with the reception of their works. The author of the Isle of Pahns had no great reason to complain, and he did not do so. At any rate, any dissatisfaction he felt, as will be seen, took the very practical form of urging all legitimate means for promoting the sale of the work. 12 4 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. TO MR SMITH. "53 Qleen Street, i^^ April 1812. A day consecrated to Poets. " My long-delaved visit to Glasgow has been entirely put a stop to by the miserable weather and other causes, till I find that it will not be in my power to make it out at all for nearly two months to come. Mrs Wilson is in that state now that I could not comfort- ably leave her, and therefore it will not be in my power to see you till the time I mention. " From your last letter it would appear that the Isle of Palms has hitherto been tolerably successful. In Edinburgh it is much read, praised, etc., but I question if the sale of it has been very great. A less enterprising set of men than Edinburgh booksellers I never had the misfortune to meet with. " From what you told me I doubt not that Longman will adver- tise it properly. I have certainly seen it occasionally in several papers, but not so often as many other volumes of far less moment (poetical); and almost all the booksellers I have spoken to here agree in stating that the London advertising is very dull and in- sufficient. I mention this as I hear it, without supposing for an instant that anything will be wanting on your part to forward the sale of the volume. It seems evident to me that some steps should be taken to make the volume known better than it is, and first of all by inserting occasional extracts in newspapers. I shall take care to do something in the Edinburgh and London papers. But what is of more importance is the provincial sale in England. Considerable inquiry was made after them in Liverpool ; and had there been copies there, many would have sold. And I think you should still establish some correspondence with the booksellers there. Two hundred of Crabbe's poems were sold in Liverpool. In Manchester many, many books are sold ; one shop of consider- able magnitude is kept by a Mr Ford. But it seems certain to my mind that you must bestir yourself through the towns of England, for the people are so stupid as not to know where to send for them, unless they come to the town where they live. This I had proof of from Liverpool in abundance. "■THE ISLE OF palms:' 125 " I have sent Southey a copy. He will, I know, review it in the Quarterly, if he likes it, which I think probable; otherwise he will not. Jeffrey likes it much; but will very likely abuse it for all that. I see it will be reviewed in the next Edinburgh Quarterly Review, but I suppose it is a despicable effort ; its praise or blame will be alike indifferent. " I find that people distrust their own judgment more than I had ever behaved possible, and durst not admire anything till they can quote authorities. I shall be happy to hear from you when at leisure. Glasgow criticism is not worth regarding ; but I wish to hear from you an exact account of the number of copies sold by you in Glasgow, etc., to the public, and also of the number which you have altogether disposed of to the Edinburgh booksellers ; London and Oxford, too, if you have heard anything from those quarters. I have as yet had no correspondence with England about it ; here I am not a little caressed by the great, but I would excuse there caresses, if the public would buy my volume. If the volume do ultimately succeed, and nothing has yet occurred to make me suppose that it will not, then I shall in a year or two come before it again in strength ; but if not, I shall court the Muse no more. " Have any of my poems gone to Paisley or to the Sister Isle? Give me the names of as many of the purchasers as you can. Have you ever sent Watson his copies ? for they had not been seen at Calgarth so late as last week, and I suppose the Kendal book- seller sent his there. Have any been sent to Cambridge or Birmingham? two places, by the bye, well joined together. The longer your letter is the better, and by making a parcel of it, you may send the letters of the Oxford booksellers, and anything else you desire, but taking care not to write till you have time to send me a full and long letter."* " In the next number of the Edinburgh Reinew appeared a * The anxiety and disappointment of the author as to the early sale of the volume does not seem altogether unreasonable, when we find that in Edinburgh, where the chief demand was to be looked for, " the trade " received the work so cautiously, as following " subscription list " indicates : — •" The Isle of Palms and other Poems. By John Wilson. Demy 8vo, retail at 12s. ; under 10, 8s. 6d. ; above, 8s. A few copies Royal Bvo, at sub. John Ballantyne & Co., two hundred copies, demy : Manners & 126 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. criticism of the Isle of Palms, what pubUshers would call a "favour- able notice," but, it would appear not quite to the taste of the author. He would probably have preferred a good " cutting up," to the measured and somewhat patronizing approval of the reviewer. On the 3d of May, he writes to Mr Smith : — " I write this in great haste, it being near two o'clock on Sunday morning, and at eight I leave Edinburgh on a fishing excursion to Kelso for a week. " Jeffrey's review is beggarly. I don't much like the extract : it is too much of an excerpt, too quackish; but please yourself. The other review is a masterpiece of nonsense and folly." Soon after he writes again from EUeray : — " I am meditating many other poems, and probably shall begin to write soon. I know that I can in a year write another volume that will make the Isle hide its head. But unless the Isle travels the Continent a little more before that time, I shall not throw pearls before swine in a hurry." " Elleray, Monday morning, Nov. 23, 1812. "My dear Smith, — The day after I received your last, I left Elleray for Ireland, on a visit to my sister, who lives near Killarney. I stayed there a month, and on my return have received the melan- choly intelligence of my dear brother's death.* Since then I have not had the power of thinking of my literary concerns. Wq often know not how dearly we love our near relations, till called on to mourn over their graves. I know that I tenderly loved my dear Miller, twenty-five; .\rchd. Constable & Co., twenty-five copies; Jno. Anderson, twenty-five copies ; William Blackwood, six copies." The last item in the list looks specially curious now ; but at that time Mr Black- wood's business was in its infancy, and the future Christopher North was unknown to him. About the same time, Longman & Co. wrote to Mr Smith, to report the London "subscription:" — " We received a copy of Wilson's Poems from Ballantynes, and our clerk, who subscribes our books, took it round the trade yesterday and this morning ; but as the author is not known amongst the London booksellers, we are sorry to say we have been enabled to subscribe only between forty-five and fifty, though, from what you say of the merit of the work, and what we hear of it from other quarters, we have no doubt of its selling very well here when it is known." * His brother Andrew. •■'THE ISLE OF PALMS.'' 127 brother, but his death has affected me more than I could have imagined, and I yet feel as if I could never again be happy or cheerful enough to resume my former occupations. " I leave everything relating to my poems to your own judgment. If they do not sell, my poetry never will ; for though I may write better, they are good enough for popularity, far better than many that circulate widely, and they deserve to sell. " Southey would have gladly reviewed them in the Qiiarterly, but found it impossible, without speaking at length of himself and Wordsworth; so he from conscience declined it. Blair I have heard nothing of since 1 saw you, nor am I likely to hear. A book must ultimately owe its circulation to itself, and not to the grace of reviewers. Take such steps about a second edition as you choose. I would advise, if there be one, no more than 750 copies. I will add no new poems, nor preface, nor note. " I would fain write you at greater length, but feel unable. Let the beginning of my letter be my excuse." The extent of his plans of composition at this time is indicated by a " List of subjects for meditation," in one of his books, con- taining no less than 131 titles of proposed poems. In what spirit he entered on his work, the following note written in his common- place book may illustrate : — '■'■Jime 12, 181 2. — Expected that a volume will be completed by June 12, 1814. May the Almighty enlighten my mind, so that I may benefit my fellow-creatures, and discharge the duties 01 my life.— J. W."* The list of subjects begins on the opposite page, and the pro- posed character of the strain in each case is indicated by such notes as these : — * It will not, I hope, diminish in any reader's eyes the respect due to this solemn and surely most heartfelt aspiration, that it is copied from a page, never meant for other eyes to see, beginning with so different a kind of memorandum as this : — "Small black muffled hen set herself with about eight eggs on Monday night or Tuesday morning, 7th July." So far am I from being offended by this curious con- trast, that I specially note the fact as a characteristic illustration of the wholeness and sincerity of the man, who, whether it were high poetic meditation or the breed- ing of game cocks that occupied him, did it with all his heart and strength, each in its season. 128 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " Red Tarn — melancholy and mournful. " The widow — beautiful and fanciful. " A poet — characteristic and copious. " On the death of Gough among the hills — different view of it from W. and Scott. ' " City after a plague — awful and wild, solemn. " Town and country — vigorous and bold. " On the Greek sculpture — in strong heroics. "The murderer and the babe — a contrast ; the moral to be — to watch well our own hearts against vice." A calculation is then given for a volume of 500 pages out of a selection out of this large list, in which 170 are allotted to "St Hubert," and 50 each to "The Manse" and "The Ocean Queen," and to the " City after a Plague " only 5. The proposed volume did not appear till January 18 16, not from any lack of materials, but in consequence of a change of plan, the " City after a Plague" having developed into a drama, instead of " St Hubert," while of tlie other subjects very few were ever wrought out, and some that were have been withheld from posterity. Of subjects completed and published, the titles of some will be recognised from the above extract. It is perhaps to be regretted that so rich a promise did not come to perfection ; but it was no sudden or fortuitous impulse that made the poet choose to develop his poetical powers in an- other form than that of verse. So much meantime of poetry. Of the four happy years that were passed in the cottage at Elleray, from i8ti to 1815, there is little to be recorded. It would appear that in the former year he had come to the resolution of joining the Scottish Bar, and, in that view, became a member of the Speculative Society, then in a highly flourishing condition. He must of course have spent some part of the succeeding winters in Edinburgli, but the only trace of the matter I find is the following allusion in a letter from his friend Blair, dated December 18 13 :— " My dear John, — I desire very much to hear further from you, and to know how your great soul accommodates itself to the Law Class, and other judicial sufferings and degradations, and more about your Greek and polite literature." " THE ISLE OF FALMS." 1 29 I find also, that he opened, on the 4th of January 18 14, tiic debate in the Speculative Society — topic, " Has the War on the Continent been glorious to the Spanish nation ?" — in the affirmative, when the majority of the Society voted with him. He only wrote. It appears, one Kssay for that Society, on " some political institu- tions of military origin," of which there are some traces in one. of his MS. books. This happy life at EUeray was soon to come to a close. In the fourth year from the date of his marriage, there came a calamity so heavy and unlooked for that the highest fortitude was required to meet it, as it was met, bravely and cheerfully. The circumstances which occurred to make it absolutely neces- sary to leave Elleray were of a most painful nature, masmuch as they not only deprived Wilson of his entire fortune, but in that blow revealed the dishonesty of one closely allied to him by relationship, and in whom years of unshaken trust had been reposed. An uncle had acted the part of " unjust steward," and, by his treachery, overwhelmed his nephew in irretrievable loss. A sudden fall from affluence to poverty is not a trial easily borne, especially when it comes through the fault of others ; but Wilson's nature was too strong and noble to bow beneath the blow. On the contrary, with a virtue rarely exemplified, he silently submitted to the calamity, and generously assisted in contributing to the support of his relative, who, in the ruin of others, had also ruined himself. Here was a practical illustration of moral philosophy, more eloquent, 1 think, than even the Professor's own lectures, when he came to teach what he had practised. In such a noble spirit, and with a conscience void of ofi"ence, he prepared to quit the beautiful home where he had hoped to pass his days, and set his face firmly to meet the new conditions of life which his lot imposed. The following letter to De Quincey describes his journey from Elleray with his wife and infant family : — "Penrith, Crown Inn, Friday Evening, half-past Six, 1815. " My dear Friend, — I found that it was impossible to see you again at your cottage before taking leave of Elleray. The tem- pestuous weather prevented me from going to Kendal on the day I I30 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. had fixed, so I was forced to go on Thursday, a cold, rainy, and stormy day. Had I returned in the afternoon, I certainly would have cantered over to Grasmere for a parting grasp of cordiality and kindness; but I did not return to Elleray till near eleven o'clock. We rose this morning at six, and got under weigh at eight. We arrived here about five, and the children being fatigued, we propose to lie to during the night. The post-boy being about to return to Ambleside, I gave Keir this note, which has no other object than to kindly wish you all peace, and such happiness as you deserve till we meet again. If I cannot pay you a visit at Christ- mas, we shall surely meet early in summer. I will ^vrite you from Edinburgh soon. "Blair left Elleray on an opposite tack this morning; weather hazy with heavy squalls from the north-west. Mrs Wilson begs to be kindly remembered to you, and so would doubtless the progeny were they of maturer age and awake. — Yours with true affection, "John Wilson." " My books had not been sent to Elleray from the ' stamp- master's'* when I took my departure. If they still linger with fond, reluctant, amorous aftection near Green's rotundities, perhaps you might wish to see those about Spain. If so, order them all to your cottage. The dinner in honour of Blucher and the Crown Prince at Ambleside, was, I understood, attended only by the Parson, the Apothecary, the Limner ; — the King, Lord North, and Mr Fury, signifying nothing. Vale 1 iterumque vale J" • Wordsworm, LIFE AV EDINBURGH. 131 CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN EDINBURGH— THE BAR— THE HIGHLANDS— ELLERAY. 1815-17. John Wilson's new home was now in Edinburgh. His mother received him and his family into her house, where he resided until the year 18 19. Mrs Wilson, senior, was a lady whose skill in domestic management was the admiration and wonder of all zealous housekeepers. Under one roof she accommodated three distinct families; and besides the generosity exercised towards her owii, she was hospitable to all, while her charities and goodness to the poor were unceasing. This lady was so well known and so much esteemed in Edinburgh, that when she died, it was, as it were, the extinction of a "bright particular star;" nor can any one who ever saw her, altogether forget the effect of her presence. She belonged to that old School of Scottish ladies whose refinement and intellect never interfered with duties the most humble. In a large house- hold where the fashion of the day neither sought nor suggested a retinue of attendants, many little domestic offices were performed by the lady of the house herself. The tea china, for example, was washed both after breakfast and tea, and carefully put away by her own delicate hands. Markets were made early in the morning. Many a time has the stately figure of Mrs Wilson, in her elegantly fitting black satin dress, been seen to pass to and from the old market-place, Edinburgh, followed by some favourite "caddie,"* bearing the well-chosen meats and vegetables, tliat no skill but her own was ever permitted to select. Shrewd sense, wise economy, and well-ordered benevolence marked all her actions. Beautiful * Street porter. 132 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. and dignified in presence, she at once inspired a feeling of respect. Pious and good, she at the same time knew and understood the world ; and false sentiment, or affectation of any sort, was not permitted to live near her ; wit and humour she did not lack ; but it is doubtful whether poetry was a material of her nature in any shape. Proud as she was of her son John, and great as his devotion was to her, he used always to say that his mother did not understand him. Sometimes, it is no great wonder if his eccen- tricity might have been a little too much for her order and regular- ity. It is very doubtful if any lady of the present regime could so wisely and peacefully rule the affairs of a household as did this lady,* when, for several years, she had under her roof two married sons, with their wives, children, and servants, along with her own immediate household, a son and two daughters, yet unmarried, making in all a family of fourteen persons. Yet peace and harmony reigned supreme; and there are now not a i^w of her grandchildren who remember this fine old lady, either as she moved through the active duties of her house, or, seated at the fireside on a chair, the back of which she never touched, dignified in bearing as a queen, took a short nap, awaking with a kindly smile at the sound ot some young voice demanding a story, in the telling of which, like all good grandames, she excelled. So, to the pleasant house of his mother, No. 53 Queen Street, Wilson changed his abode from dear sycamore-sheltered EUeray. In 18 1 5, he was called to the bar, along with his friend Patrick Robertson.! John Gibson Lockhart joined them in the year following. For a short time, but only for a short time, \Vilson followed the usual routine of a professional promenading m the '■'■Hall of Lost Steps." He did sometimes get cases, but when he found them lying on his table, he said jocularly, when speaking of * Mrs Wilson, senior, was a keen Tory ; and it is told of her that on hearing of her son contributing to the Edinburgh Review, she said to him significantly, "John, if you turn Whig, this house is no longer big enough for us both." She must have been well pleased with the principles of her daughter-in-law, who, writing after the Reform Bill passed, "Thanked God she was born in the reign of the Georges." ■|- Among the young men, afterwards distinguished, who passed about the tame time, were John Cay, Andrew Rutherfurd, P. F. Tytler, Sir William Hamilton, Thomas Maiiland, Alexander Pringle, Archibald Alison, Duncan M'Neill, James Ivory, etc. LIFE IN EDINBURGH. 133 this afterwards, "I did not know what the de^'il to do with them !" The Parliament-House life was plainly not the thing which nature meant for him. The restrictions of that arena would not suit his Pegasus, so he freed his wings and took another course. There are some pleasant fragments of his letters to his wife, written in holiday time, when he would now and then run away for a day or two to saunter, fishing-rod in hand, by the streams of pretty pastoral Peebles, and into Yarrow to visit the Ettrick Shepherd. He writes from the " Head of the Yarrow," on " Wednesday morning, seven o'clock," in June 18 15 : — " My dearest Jane, — I take time by the forelock merely to inform you that I am still a sentient being. On Sunday, I did not leave Sym's till near twelve o'clock. I called, on my way to Peebles, at Finlay's, at Glencorse, where I sandwiched for an hour, and arrived at Peebles about seven o'clock, a perfect hmeter, my shoes having peeled my timbers. The walk was rather dreary. At Peebles I had to stop, and remained there all night. On Monday morning, at six o'clock (miraculous !) I uprose from the couch of slumber, and walked along the Tweed to Traquair Knowe (Mr Laidlaw's). There I fished, and stayed all Monday, the place being very beautiful. Grieve joined the party that night, and several other people. Mr Laidlaw is married, an insectologist and poet, and farmer and agriculturist. On Tuesday morning I walked to Hogg's, a distance of about eight miles, fishing as I went, and surprised him in his cottage bottling whisky. He is well, and dressed pastorally. His house is not habitable, but the situation is good, and may become very pretty. There being no beds in his domicile, we last night came here, a farmer's house about a quarter of a mile from him, where I have been treated most kindly and hospitably. The house and entertainment something a la Wast- dale, but much superior. I have risen at seven o'clock, and am preparing to take a complete day's fishing among the streams near St Mary's Loch. "To-morrow night I fish down to Selkirk, to catch the coach to Hawick in the evening ; thence on Friday to Richmond's, whom I will leave on Sunday evening. So if I can get a seat in the coach T34 MEMOIR OF JOIIM IVILSON. on Sunday night at Hawick, you will see me in Edinburgh on Monday morning before breakfast. Mrs Scott informs me breakfast is ready, so hoping that you will be grateful for this letter, bald as it is, I have the honour to subscribe myself your obedient and dutiful husband, John Wilson." On one of these fishing excursions he had proceeded from St Mary's Loch to Peebles, where he could not at first get admittance to the inn, as it was fully occupied by a party of country gentlemen, met together on some county business ; on sending in his name, however, he was immediately asked to join them at dinner. It is needless to say that under his spell the fun grew fast and furious. No one thought of moving. Supper was proposed, Wilson asked the company if they liked trouts, and forthwith produced the result of his day's amusement from basket, bag, and pocket, in such numbers that the table was soon literally covered. As the Shep- herd afterwards said, "Your creel was fu' — your shooting-bag fu' — your jacket-pouches fu' — the pouches o' your verra breeks fu' — half- a-dozen wee anes in your waistcoat, no' to forget them in the crown o' your hat, and last o' a', when there was nae place to stow awa' ony mair, a willow-wand drawn through the gills o' some great big anes." The fresh fragrance of summer, as enjoyed by the runnino- streams and " dowie dens o' Yarrow," combined with the desire to show his English wife something of the beauty of Scotland, sug- gested about this time an excursion, which was regarded by many as an act of insanity. About the beginning of July my father and mother set out from Edinburgh on a pedestrian tour through the Western Highlands. That such a feat should be performed by a delicate young English woman was sufticiently astonishing. A little of the singularity, n( doubt, arose from the fact, that she was the wife of an eccentric young poet, the strangeness of whose actions would be duly exag- gerated. Such a proposal, therefore, could not be made without exciting wonder and talk in the demure circles of Edinburgh society. Mrs Grant of Laggan thus writes upon the subject to a friend : — THE HIGHLANDS. 135 " The oddest thing that I have known for some time is John Wilson's intended tour to the Highlands with his wite. This gentle and elegant Englishwoman is to walk with her mate, who carries her wardrobe and his own, ' Thorough flood and thorough mire, Over bush and o\'er briar ; ' that is, through all the bypaths in the Central Highlands, where they propose to sleep in such cottages as English eyes never saw before. I shall be charmed to see them come back alive ; and in the meantime it has cost me not a little pains to explain in my epistles to my less romantic friends in their track, that they are genuine gentle folks in masquerade. How cruel any authority would be thought, that should assign such penance to the wearers of purple and fine linen, as these have volunteered." A few facts relative to this romantic walk are not, after a lapse of so many years lost sight of by those who remember meeting the travellers, and entertaining them kindly. Scotland was dear to Wilson's heart, as was the fair sisterland he was so loath to leave. Who has ever written such words about Highland scenery as he has done ? Well he knew all those mist-laden glens in the far west ; and the glorious shadows of the great mountains, beneath whose shelter he and his wife would rest after a long day's walk. In this tour they visited the Trossachs, Loch Katrine, and the smaller lochs in that neighbourhood, taking such divisions of the Western Highlands as suited their fancy. They did not "chalk out a route,'' or act as if " they had sworn a solemn oath to follow it." From Loch Lomond westward to Inverary, and thence northward by Loch Awe and Glen Etive, they wandered on — halting when wearied, either for a night, or a day or two, and always well received, strangers though they were ; making friends too, in far-off places. Through the wild rampant cliffs and mountains, which lend so awful a grandeur to Glencoe, they proceeded to Ballachu- lish, billeting themselves upon the hospitable household of Mr Stewart, where they received such kindness as made the remem- brance of that family a bright spot in the wanderings of memory many years after, and meetings with its different members always agreeable. The district of country, howe\-er, which seemed to 136 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. have the greatest charm, and where they Hngered longest, was that between Inverary and Dahnally. Loch Awe, with its wooded shores, noble bays, beautiful islands, and unsurpassed mountain range, topped by the magnificent crest of Ben Cruachan, whose mighty base, wood-skirted, sends its verdure-clad bounds gently to the margin of the deep waters — was an object too attractive for such lovers of nature soon to part from. Again and again they retraced their steps to this enchanting scene. In this neighbourhood they found a resting-place for a time in Glenorchy, at the schoolmaster's house. Dr Smith, the present clergyman of Inverary, remembers, when a youth, seeing this devoted pair travelling on foot in these parts; Wilson laden with their travelling-gear, and his gentle wife carrying in her hand the lighter portion of it. He says : " I remember well the feelings of wonder and admiration with which I regarded his manliness and her meekness ; and whether it be that the thoughts of youth are apt to become indelible impressions, or that what awakened them was a reality in this case, as I am inclined to believe ; the thoughts and feelings of youth still remain, so that over and high above all he wrote, I see the man, the earnest, generous man, who though singularly tolerant to others, cared not to measure any odds against his own consciousness of power. It was on this first visit in 181 5 that some of those incidents occurred which are not easily forgotten, in a country where the acts of a stranger are narrowly noticed, though kindly interpreted. He and Mrs Wilson, on their way to Glenorchy, passed a little thatched cottage close by the falls of the Aray. The spot was beautiful; the weather had been wet, and the river rushed along its rocky bed with a fulness that was promising to the angler. It was too attractive to be passed, so they lingered, stopped, and waited for ten days or a fortnight, taking up their quarters at the cottage, and living on the easiest terms with its inmates. " It is yet told, how on a Sabbath morning the daughter who served came into the room — the only one — where Mr and Mrs Wilson slept ; and after adjusting her dress at the little mirror hanging by a nail on the unmortared wall, she was unable to hook her gown behind, but went at once to the side of the bed, from THE HIGHLANDS. 137 which they had not yet risen, saying, ' Do help me to hook my gown.' Mr Wilson sat up in bed, and served her with the utmost good-nature. In Glenorchy, his time was much occupied by fishing, and distance was not considered an obstacle. He started one morn- ing at an early hour to fish in a loch which at that time abounded in trout, in the braes of Glenorchy, called Loch Toilk. Its nearest point was thirteen miles distant fi-om his lodgings at the school- house. On reaching it, and unscrewing the butt-end of his fishing- rod to get the top, he found he had it not. Nothing daunted, he walked back, breakfasted, got his fishing-rod, made all complete, and off again to Loch Toila. He could not resist fishing on the river when a pool looked invitingly, but he went always onwards, reached the loch a second time, fished round it, and found that the long summer day had come to an end. He set off for his home again with his fishing-basket full, and confessing somewhat to weariness. Passing near a farm-house whose inmates he knew (for he had formed acquaintance with all), he went to get some food. They were in bed, for it was eleven o'clock at night, and after rousing them, the hostess hastened to supply him; but he requested her to get him some whisky and milk. She came with a bottle-full and a can of milk with a tumbler. Instead of a tumbler, he re- quested a bowl, and poured the half of the whisky in, along with half the milk. He drank the mixture at a draught, and while his kind hostess was looking on with amazement, he poured the remainder of the whisky and milk into the bowl, and drank that also. He then proceeded homeward, performing a journey of not less than seventy miles.* " On leaving the Glenorchy school-house, they went to Glen Etive. On their way along the banks of Loch Etive, and near the mouth of the river Conglas, they came to a shepherd's house, where they intended to wait for a few days to fish. The shepherd was servant to Mr Campbell of Achlian. Wilson had a note to him from his master. The morning had been fine, but, as often happens in this climate, it had become very wet towards evening. As the pedestrians reached the cottage drenched, on knocking at the door, * This adventure is told, with a slight variation, by the Professor himself in his *' Auglimania." — Works, vol. vi. p. 334. 138 MEMOIR OF JOHN VVILSOy. the shepherd's wife thought not well of them, perhaps startled by the heio'ht and breadth of the shoulders of him who stood at the door for her husband was a little man. She said at once, 'Go on to the farm-house, we cannot take in gangrels here.' The note put all ri'^ht, and the shepherd with his wife, both dead now, often told the circumstance to enforce hospitality to strangers, as by so doing one might entertain angels unawares." This kind of reception was at last no novelty to them. A gentle- man now residing near Inverness remembers their arriving at Foyers, with a letter of introduction to the late proprietor of that picturesque estate, from their friend Mrs Grant. Wilson was dressed in sailor fashion, and his wife's attire was such as suited a pedestrian in the mountains. The Highland lassie who received them at the door had not been in the habit of seeing gentlefolks so arrayed, and naturally taking them for " gangrel bodies " from the South, ushered them into the kitchen. On their returning route they passed through a village where Wilson, on a subsequent expedition, met with adventures to be afterwards recorded. Their appearance is described by the \ATiter of a collection of Highland Sketches,* from whose narrative I borrow the substance of the following account : — On a fine summer evening, the eyes of a primitive northern villagef was attracted by the appearance of two travellers, ap- parently man and wife, coming into the village, dressed like cairds or gipsies. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and of stalwart proportions; his fair hair floated redundant over neck and shoulders, and his red beard and whiskers were of portentous size. He bore himself with the assured and careless air of a strong man rejoicing in his strength. On his back was a capacious knapsack, and his slouched hat, garnished with fishing-hooks and tackle, showed he was as much addicted to fishing as to making spoons : — " A stalwart tinkler wight seemed he, That weel could mend a pot or pan ; And deftly he could thraw the flee, Or neatly weave the willow wan'." * Mr William Stewart. ■j- Mr Stewart calls it Tomintoul, but that must be a mistake, as at a subsequent date my father speaks of it as a place visited for the first time. THE HIGHLANDS. 139 The appearance of his companion contrasted strikingly with that of her mate. She was of shm and fragile form, and more like a lady in her walk and bearing than any wife of a caird that had ever been seen in those parts. The natives were somewhat surprised to see this great caird making for the head inn, the " Gordon Arms," where the singular pair actually took up their quarters for several days. Thence they were in the habit of sallying forth, each armed with a fishing-rod, to the river banks, a circumstance the novelty of which, as regarded the tinker's wife, excited no small curiosity, and many conjectures were hazarded as to the real character of the mysterious couple. A local hero named the King of the Drovers, moved by admira- tion of the peculiar proportions of this king of the cairds, felt a great desire to come into closer relations with the stranger. He w^as soon gratified. A meeting was arranged, in order to try whether the son of the mountain or the son of the plain were the better man in wrestling, leaping, running, and drinking ; and in all of these manly exercises the great drover, probably for the first time, found himself more than matched. After nearly two months' tour, the travellers came down by the low-lying lands of Dunkeld, where Mr Wilson was somewhat sus- piciously regarded, being by some good folks looked upon as a lunatic. Mrs Izett, a lady of accomplishments and taste, and a great admirer of genius, gives a description of Mr and Mrs Wilson's arrival at her house at midnight. She writes to Mr John Grieve, a friend of my father's, who lived many years in Edinburgh, a man of good judgment, and refined and elegant pursuits : — "Had you a glimpse of Byron, Southey, etc.? By the way, Southey brings your friend Wilson to my recollection. We had the pleasure of seeing him and his agreeable partner here. Though they were here for several nights, I really could not form an opinion of him. They arrived here late at night. The following day, and greatest part of the night, he passed rambling among our glens, alone ; and the day after, the whole of which he passed within doors, I happened unfortunately to be confined to my room with the headache — at least during the greatest part of it — and thus lost the opportunity you kindly afforded me, of enjoying what 1 I40 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. should have considered a great treat. There is something very striking in the countenance of Mr Wilson, particularly his eye. His head I think quite a model for a minstrel ; there is so much of fire, and at the same time so much simplicity. His wanderings, etc. etc., made some people in this quarter — no matter who — think him quite mad, and they will not be persuaded to the contrary. The eccentricities of a poet certainly do bear some resemblance to this at times, and to say truth, Mr Wilson has his good share of these. I was quite tantalized the day ho passed in the house that I was not able to appear, and avail myself of so good an opportunity to become acquainted with him. I saw more of Mrs Wilson, and was much pleased with her. She made out her walks you see, and after this you must allow woman to possess resolution and perse- verance. I greatly admired the patience and good-humour with which she bore all the privations and fatigues of her journey. She might make some of your southern beaux blush for their effeminacy." My mother during this tour walked one day twenty-five miles. The travellers had been overtaken by a mist falling suddenly over them when in Rannoch. They missed the beaten track of road, and getting among dreary moors, were long before they discovered footing that could lead them to a habitation. My father made his wife sit down among the moss, and taking off his coat, wrapped her in it, saying he would try and find the road, assuring her, at the same time, that he would not go beyond the reach of her voice. They could not see a foot before them, so dense and heavy was the dreary mist that lay all around. Kissing his wife, and telling her not to fear, he sprang up from where she sat, and bounded off. Not many seconds of time elapsed, ere he called her to come to him — the sound guiding her to where he stood. He was upon the road ; his foot had suddenly gained the right path, for light there was none. He told her he had never felt so grateful for anything in his life, as for that unexpected discovery of the beaten track. He knew well the dangers of those wild wastes when mists fall, and the disasters they not unfrequently cause. A weary walk it was that brought them to " King's House," the only inn at that time for travellers among these Highland fastnesses. THE HIGHLANDS. T41 On their return from this wonderful tour, they were quite the Uons of Edinburgh. It was fully expected by the anxious com- munity of the fairer sex, that Mrs Wilson would return weather- beaten and robbed of her beautiful complexion, sunburnt and treckled. But such expectations were agreeably disappointed. One lady who called upon her directly after her return, old Mrs Mure of Caldwell, exclaimed, " Weel, I declare, she's come back bonnier than ever !" My father's own account of their adventures is contained in the following letter to the Ettrick Shepherd, soon after his return, written evidently in the full enjoyment of the highest health and spirits, — to use his own phrase, "strong as an eagle :" — "Edinburgh, September. " My dear Hogg, — I am in Edinburgh, and wish to be out of it. Mrs Wilson and I walked 350 miles in the Highlands, between the 5th of July and the 26th of August, sojourning in divers glens from Sabbath unto Sabbath, fishing, eating, and staring. I purpose appearing in Glasgow on Thursday, where I shall stay till the Cir- cuit is over. I then go to EUeray, in the character of a Benedictine monk, till the beginning of November. Now pause and attend. If you will meet me at Moffat, on October 6th, I will walk or mail it with you to EUeray, and treat you there with fowls and Irish whisky. Immediately on the receipt of this, write a letter to me, at Mr Smith's Bookshop, Hutcheson Street, Glasgow, saying posi- tively if you will, or will not do so. If you don't, / will lick you, and fish up Douglas Bum before you, next time I come to Ettrick. I saw a letter from you to M the other day, by which you seem to be alive and well. You are right in not making verses when you can catch trout. Francis Jeffrey leaves Edinburgh this day for Holland and France. I presume, after destroying the King of the Netherlands, he intends to annex that kingdom to France, and assume the supreme power of the United Countries, under the title of Geoffrey the First. You, he will make Poet Laureate and Fishmonger, and me Admiral of the Musquito Fleet. " If you have occasion soon to write to Murray, pray introduce something about the ' City of the Plague,' as I shall probably offer 142 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSO.W him that poem in about a fortnight or sooner. Of course I do not wish you to say that the poem is utterly worthless. I think that a bold eulogy from you (if administered immediately) would be of service to me ; but if you do write about it, do not tell him that I have any intention of offering it to him, but you may say, you hear I am going to offer it to a London bookseller. "We stayed seven days at Mrs Izett's, at Kinnaird, and were most kindly received. Mrs Izett is a great ally of yours, and is a fine creature. I killed in the Highlands 170 dozen of trouts. One day 19 dozen and a half, another 7 dozen. I, one morning, killed 10 trouts that weighed nine pounds. In Loch Awe, in three days, I killed 76 pounds' weight of fish, all with the fly. The Gaels were astonished. I shot two roebucks, and had nearly caught a red-deer by the tail — / i^'as within half a mile of it at farthest. The good folks in the Highlands are not dirty. They are clean, decent, hospi- table, ugly people. We domiciliated with many, and found no remains of the great plague of fleas, etc., that devastated the country from the time of Ossian to the accession of George the Third. We were at Loch Katrine, Loch Lomond, Inverary, Dalmally, Loch Etive, Glen Etive, Dalness, Appin, Ballachulish, Fort William, Moy, Dalwhinny, Loch Ericht (you dog), Loch Rannoch, Glen Lyon, Taymouth, Blair-Athole, Bruar, Perth, Edin- burgh. Is not Mrs Wilson immortalized ? "I know of 'Cona.'* It is very creditable to our excellent friend, but will not sell any more than the ' Isle of Palms,' or ' The White Doe.'t The 'White Doe' is not in season; venison is not liked in Edinburgh. It wants flavour ; a good Ettrick wether is preferable. Wordsworth has more of the poetical character than any living writer, but he is not a man of first-rate intellect ; his genius oversets him. .Southey's ' Roderic ' is not a first-rate work ; the remorse of Roderic is that of a Christian devotee, rather than that of a dethroned monarch. His battles are ill fought. There is * Cona, or the Vale of Clwyd, and other Poems. Edinburgh. lamo. The author of this little volume was Mr James Gray, one of the teachers in the High School, an accomplished man, a friend of my father's. He afterwards took orders in the Church of England, and was appointed to a chaplaincy in India. He died in September 1830. + Wordsworth's " White Doe of Rylstone." THE HIGHLANDS. 143 no processional march of events in the poem, no tendency to one great end, hke a river increasing in majesty till it reaches the sea. Neither is there national character, Spanish or Moorish. No sublime imagery ; no ^jrofound passion. Southey wrote it, and Southey is a man of talent ; but it is his worst poem. "Scott's 'Field of Waterloo' I have seen. What a poem! — such bald and nerveless language, mean imagery, commonplace senti- ments, and clumsy versification ! It is beneath criticism. Unless the latter part of the battle be very fine indeed, this poem will injure him. " Wordsworth is dished. Southey is in purgatory ; Scott is dying; and Byron is married. Herbert* is frozen to death in Scandinavia. Moore has lost his manliness. Coleridge is always in a fog. Joanna Baillie is writing a system of cookery. Mont- gomery is in a madhouse, or ought to be. Campbell is sick of a constipation in the bowels. Hogg is herding sheep in Ettrick forest; and Wilson has taken the plague. O wretched writers ! Unfortu- nate bards ! What is Bobby Miller's t back shop to do this winter? Alas ! alas ! alas ! a wild doe is a noble animal; write an address to one, and it shall be inferior to one I have written— for half a barrel of red herrings !| " The Highlanders are not a poetical people. They are too national; too proud of their history. They imagine that a colley- shangy between the Macgregors and Campbells is a sublime event : and they overlook mountains four thousand feet high. If Ossian did write the poems attributed to him, or any poems like them, he was a dull dog, and deserved never to taste whisky as long as he lived. A man who lives for ever among mist and mountains, knows better than to be always prosing about them. Methinks I feel about objects familiar to infancy and manhood, but when we speak of them, it is only upon great occasions, and in situ- * The Honourable William Herbert, Dean of Manchester, died in 1847, in his 70th year. He was author of several vols, or translations from the Icelandic and other northern langiiages. The poem here referred to is evidently " Helga," which was published in 1815. \ One of the principal Edinburgh booksellers. % An excusable challenge. The "Address to a Wild Deer " is one of his happiest compositions. T44 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. ations of deep passion. Ossian was probably born in a flat country ! * "Scott has written good lines in the 'Lord of the Isles,' but he has not done justice to the Sound of Mull, which is a glorious strait. "The Northern Highlanders do not admire Waverley, so I presume the South Highlanders despise Guy Mannering. The Westmoreland peasants think Wordsworth a fool. In Borrowdale, Southey is not known to exist. I met ten men at Hawick who did not think Hogg a poet, and the vhole city of Glasgow think me a madman. So much for the voice of the people being the voice of God. I left my snuff-box in your cottage. Take care of it. The Anstruther bards have advertised their anniversary ; I forget the day. " I wish Lieutenant Gray of the Marines t had been devoured by the lion he once carried on board his ship to the Dey of Algiers, or that he was kept a perpetual prisoner by the Moors in Barbary. Did you hear that Tennant:}: had been taken before the Session for an offence against good morals ? If you did not, neither did I ! Indeed it is, on many accounts, exceedingly improbable. — Yours truly, John Wilson." Apparently the Isle of Palms had by this time made way with some success, if it did not quite realize the hopes of the author. Previously to the writing of the above letter, he had put himself in communication with Mr Smith in reference to the publication of his new volume : — "Edinburgh, 53 Queen Street, September 5, 1815. " I have as many poems as would make such another volume as the Isle of Palms ^ which I wish to publish this winter. The longest is nearly 4000 lines. I have as yet spoken of it to no one, friend * For a very different and more serious criticism of Ossian's Poems by him, see Blackwood' s Magazine for November 1839. •f* Charles Gray, author of several Scotch ballads, poems, and songs. He died in I8SI- X William Tennant, Professor of Oriental Languages in St Andrews ; author of " Anster Fair ; " died in 1843. LIFE IN EDINBURGH. 145 or bookseller. I have made up my mind not to publish it unless I sell the copyright for a specific sum. I shall not correspond with any other person on the subject till I hear from you, and what your intentions may be concerning it. " I hope that you are quite well. I have been in the Highlands for two months, with Mrs Wilson, and am strong as an eagle." Having received no reply, he \vrote a few days later : — ■ " I felt myself bound by friendship and other ties to acquaint you with my intention before I communicated it to any other person of the trade. As the winter is fast approaching, I wish to have this business settled, ere long, either in one way or another, and will therefore be glad to hear from you as soon as convenient. It is probable that I may appear in Glasgow during the Circuit, to smell the air of the new court, but my motions are uncertain. If I do make it out, I trust the oysters will be in season." Early in October he writes again, from Glasgow : — " The volume which I have now ready for the press will contain any number of pages the publisher may think fit from three to four hundred, so as to be sold for twelve shillings, and to be a counter- part of the Isle of Palms. "The first and longest poem is entitled 'The City of the Plague,' is diamatic, and consists of nearly four thousand lines, or between three and four thousand. The scene is laid in London, during the great Plague of 1665, and the poem is intended to give a general picture of the situation of a plague-struck city, along with the history of a few individuals who constitute the persons of the drama. " The second poem, ' The Convict,' is likewise dramatic, and in blank verse, and its object is to delineate the passions of a man innocently condemned to death, and the feelings of his dearest relations. It is between two and three thousand lines. ''The third poem is a dramatic fragment, entitled 'The Mariner's Return,' about six hundred lines, and principally consisting of descriptions of sea scenery. " The remainder of the volume will be made up to the length deemed necessary for poems of a miscellaneous character, in rhyme and blank verse. K 146 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " It is not my intention to publish this volume unless I dispose of the copyright ; and the sum I have set on it is ;!^2oo. "If you feel any inclination to purchase it of yourself, one word can do it. If not, one word between friends is sufficient. " If you determine against purchasing it of yourself , then you can inform me whether or not you would be willing, along with Murray, or Miller in Edinburgh, or any other bookseller, to give me that sum for the copyright. " If you determine against having anything to do with it, as a principal, on these terms, then, for the present, the subject drops." Mr Smith appears to have declined the sole responsibiHty of the publication, which was ultimately undertaken by Constable, along with whose name those of Smith and of Longman appeared on the title-page. Shortly after this communication my father paid a visit to EUeray, probably for the purpose of inspecting the state of the place, and make arrangements for letting it. On the 31st of October he reports his progress to his wife : — "Elleray, Friday night, Oct. 31, 1815. " Dearest Jane, — I am not to blame for not having written before this night, owing first to a mistake about the post-night ; and secondly, to the want of sealing-wax or wafer; so, if angry, pray become appeased. On Monday, I reached Penrith, the weather being coldish to Hawick ; then I took inside to Carlisle, thence outside to Penrith. At Penrith I dined with an old Oxonian, and walked on to Pooley Bridge ; there I found Jeany * waiting for me, and proceeded to Patterdale, which I reached about ten o'clock ; dark and stormy night. On Tuesday morning I walked to Ambleside, sending Billy (whom I found there) with pony to Elleray. From Ambleside I walked to De Quincey's, with whom I dined ; we returned per coach to Ambleside, and drank punch with Dr Scandler, who is considerably better. The night being indifferent I stayed all night at Chapman's ; on Wednesday I sent for pony and rode to Elleray. I found Mrs Ritson alive and well. Rode down and called at the parsonage ; all glad to see me. Called at the Island ; saw Mrs Curw^en and children, well and * A favourite pony. ELLERA Y. 147 looking well ; W. Curwen in Cumberland ; dined therefore at UUock's ; went in the evening to parsonage and drank tea. Thurs- day, walked about EUeray; dined at Pringle's ; met the Baxters and Greaves; pleasant party, Greave falling asleep immediately after dinner. Mr Pringle is looking tolerably, though I fear he will feel the effects of the accident all his days. Blind of one eye, and confused at times in his head. Mrs Pringle handsome and kind, and Miss Somerville with her. Friday, having spent all this day along with myself and Mr Ritson, and Billy at Elleray. The place which had been a wilderness is again trim and neat, and looks as well as possible. The trees are greatly grown, and everything seems thriving and prosperous. There are eight chickens with whom I am forming a friendship ; and 1 feel as idle as ever. " 1 dare say no more about a place so dear to us both; would to God you were here ! " But next time I come, whenever that is, you shall be with me. I have not seen the ' stamp-master.' Saturday and Sunday I intend keeping alone, and at Elleray. Monday I shall probably go to Hollow Oak or Ulverston. The Misses Taylor have gone to Bath. Of the Hardens I know nothing. Mr Lloyd is worse than ever, and gone to Birmingham ; I believe never to return. Kitty Dawes (mother to Dawes) is dead. So is the old miller of Restock, and young Bingham of Kendal, two well-known cockers. "De Quincey will accompany me to Scotland; but I will write about his rooms in a day or two. "I have not yet been in the new house. The little detestable bit of avenue looks tolerable. Of Robert and EUza I know nothing. Kiss everybody you meet for me up stairs. Write to me care of Mrs Ullock, immediately. — Thine with eternal affection, "John Wilson." Of what happened in the interval between this date and January following there is no record. No doubt he was busy with the proof-sheets of the City of the Plague. In January i8i6, he was again at Elleray, and thus relates his adventures to Mrs Wilson : — " BowNESS, Sunday, January, i8i6. "Dearest Czarina, — I hope that you received my scroll from 148 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. Carlisle, which I committed to the custody of Richard, and there- fore doubt not that he would fulfil his trust. " I supped at the Pearsons', and was very kindly received there ; Miss Alms being in love with me, which I think I told you before. Going down to their house I fell upo7i a slide, and was most severely bruised, so much so that I had to be carried into a shop, and drink wine which the people very kindly gave me. This was an infernal fall, my rump and head suffering a dire concussion against one of the most fashionable streets. I however made out my visit, though still rather sick and headachy all night. Indeed, my journey seemed to consist wholly of disasters. In the morning (no coach going sooner) I pursued my journey to Penrith — day cold and snowy — outside for cheapness ; I then got tired of the coach, and, ifter drinking a glass of wine and water, started on foot for Coleridge's at Pooley Bridge ; there I dined, and, at half-past seven n the evening, feeling myself bold and chivalrous, I started again for Patterdale, against the ineffectual remonstrances of the whole family, who all prophesied immediate death. The night was not dark, and in two hours I was seated in the kitchen of Mr Dobson at a good fire. I then proposed crossing Kirkstone, when shrieks arose from every quarter, and I then found a young man had just been brought in dead, having been lost on Sunday evening coming from Ambleside, and only found that day. Of course, the melan- choly accident made me give up all thoughts of pursuing my journey till daylight, so I supped and went to bed. Next forenoon at eleven o'clock, a party of men arrived from Ambleside with the Coroner, and I found from them that the road though difficult was passable, so I faced the hill, and arrived safe at Chapman's in two hours and ten minutes, having slid along with great rapidity. The thaw was beginning, and had I waited another day, the snow would have been soft and impassable, as it lay in many places ten feet deep, and I walked over two gates. I dined with William Curwen, and walked to De Quincey's, which I reached about half-past one o'clock in the morning ; he was at the Nab, and when he returned about three o'clock, found me asleep in his bed. I reached Elleray only last night, having spent the whole of Saturday with the lesser man ; he walked to Elleray with me, where we drank tea ; he then ELLERA Y. 1 49 returned to Grasmere ; and no sheets being on the bed, I walked to Bowness, and stayed all night. I am still here, and it rains severely. As yet, EUeray is all in the dark. I shall dine there to-morrow alone, but not stay all night, for the lonesomeness is insupportable. I will write a longer letter, and give you news. Nobody, I fear, has died here since I saw you. Billy is well, and his two nephews are at present residing with him at Elleray. His father and mother are expected daily, and a few distant relations. " Lloyd is in a mad house ; \Vordsworth and family from home. Write me on receipt of this (if not before) ; direct to me at Mrs UUock's, Bowness. — Eternally thine with all affection, "J. Wilson." During the next month he was constantly occupied with the printers, and on the 13th of March he writes to Mr Smith : — " I ought long ago to have acknowledged the receipt of your different letters ; but I have been busier than any man ever was before. " My volume went round the trade to-day ; with what success I know not. My expectations are but moderate. The volume is too thin and so is the paper, but I believe there is more printing and pages than los. 6d. books in general. I put your name into the title-page, which I shall ever be happy to do on similar occasions. " These failures in Glasgow will not be favourable to me as an author." The reception of the volume was altogether favourable ; and it was recognised as indicating a marked increase of power and dis- cipline in the mind of the author. With the exception of that first suggestion of the subject already referred to, I find no allusion to the principal poem nor any trace of it in note-books. Of the other poems, there are but four which correspond in title with any in the "List of Subjects" of 1812. These are "The Children's Dance," "The Convict," "Solitude," and "The Farewell and Return." In the next number of the Edijihurgh Reviac\ the volume received a friendly criticism from the hand of Jeffrey, who, in reply to a letter from the author, unfortunately not extant, addressed the following interesting letter to him : — 150 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " My dear Sir, — I am extremely gratified by your letter, and thank you very sincerely, both for the kindness it expresses, and the confidence it seems to place in me. It is impossible, I think, to read your writings without feeling affection for the writer ; and under the influence of such a feeling, I doubt whether it is possible to deal with them with the same severe impartiality with which works of equal literary merit, but without that attraction, might probably be treated. Nor do I think that this is desirable or would even be fair; for part, and not the least part, of the merit of poetry consists in its moral effects, and *^he power of exciting kind and generous affections seems entitled to as much admiration as that of presenting pleasing images to the fancy. " You wish, however, to be treated as a stranger, and, I think, I have actually treated you as one, for the partiality which I have already mentioned as irresistibly produced by your writings, certainly has not been lessened by the little personal intercourse we have had. I am not aware that it has been materially increased by that cause, and was inclined to believe that I should have felt the same kindliness towards the author of the work I am reviewing, although I had never seen his face. As to showing you no favour for the future on the score of the past, I am afraid if I do not exactly comply with your request, it will be more owing to my own selfish unwillingness to retract my former opinions and abandon my pre- dictions, than from any excess of good-nature toward their objects. However, your request is very natural and manly, and I shall do what I can to let you have nothing more than justice, and save you from having any other obligations to your critic than for his dili- gence and integrity. " As to Wordsworth, I shall only say, that while I cannot at all agree, nor is it necessary, in your estimate of his poetical talents, I love and honour the feelings by which I think your judgment has been misled, and by which I most readily admit that your conduct should be governed. I assure you I am not the least hurt or offended at hearing his poetry extolled, or my remarks upon it arraigned as unjust or erroneous; only I hope you will not set them down as sure proof of moral depravity, and utter want of all good affections. I should be sorry that any good man should think this LIFE IN EDINBURGH. 151 A me as an individual; as to tlie opinion that may be formed of my critical qualifications, it is impossible for any one to be more indifferent than myself I am conscious of being quite sincere in all the opinions I express, but I am the furthest in the world from thinking them infallible, or even having any considerable assurance of their appearing right to persons of good judgment. " I wish I had more leisure to talk to you of such matters ; but I cannot at present afford to indulge myself any further. I think we now understand each other in a way to prevent all risk of future misunderstanding. — Believe me always, dear Sir, very faithfully yours, F. Jeffrey. "92 George Street, Saturday Evening." The pleasant relations thus established between these two men led to a still closer intimacy, which, though unhappily interrupted by subsequent events, was renewed in after years, when the bitter- ness of old controversies had yielded to the hallowing influences of time. Whether there was any work done during this year in poetry or prose I cannot say; but in the way of acquiring materials for future "Recreations of Christopher North" there was undoubtedly a good deal. All the other memorials at least that I have of this year, and a good part of the next, are connected almost entirely with angling, and extensive "raids" into the Highlands. It would almost seem as if there was an unwillingness fairly to cast anchor and remain steadily at work. The stimulus to literary exertion had not yet come with imperative force, and in the interval, before he fairly girded himself up to regular work, he sought strength for it in his love of nature and pedestrian wanderings. These excursions, it is but fair to observe, however, appear to have been confined to the proper vacation time of his profession. Again and again he roams over country he had so often trod before, and in the year following that in which he introduced Mrs Wilson to the beauties of his native land, he returned to the neigh- bourhood of Loch Awe, extending his tour into Inverness-shire, as we find from the following letters written in the sprmg and autumn of 1816 :— 152 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. "AcHLiAN, 29/A April 1816, Dear Jane, — I have risen at six o'clock to write to you. Your letter I find will not be here till Tuesday morning ; I know not why. Curse all country posts 1 "To be brief, James Fergusson* and I reached Glasgow on Monday ; he went to the play ; I did not. On Tuesday I was tempted to stay in Glasgow, and saw Kean as Zanga in 'The Revenge.' It is heavy work, and he acted poorly, and is in every respect inferior to Kemble. On Wednesday, I went to Greenock by steamboat, of which the machinery went wrong, and blew up part of the deck, on which myself and two fattish gentlemen were sitting. This stopped us, and after a long delay we got into another steamboat, and arrived at Greenock. It was four o'clock. I found that I could only cross the water that night, so I thought it was needless; dined with Bissland, and went to the play, when I again saw Kean. I was too near him ; he acted with occasional vigour, and his action is often good, but he rants abominably, and on the whole is no actor at all. On Thursday I hired a boat and got to Ardentinny — distance eight miles ; there fished a few miles, and got six dozen ; then walked to Strachur, but on the way cut my foot severely, and awoke on Friday morning dog-lame. With great difiiculty I reached, on Friday, the waterfall above Inverary, and was obliged to stop in a small cottage there. On Saturday, I fished up the stream (as when with you), and killed eighteen dozen. When evening came I was eight miles from Achlian, and so lame that I could not walk a step. I procured, therefore, a cart to drag me there, where I arrived at eleven o'clock, and found a warm welcome. Yesterday I rested, and to-day intend going out in the boat for a little fishing. This wound in the heel will render my visit to Megerney impossible, for there is no horse-road, so I will write to-day informing Menzies of my mishap. Is not this a severe trial to one's temper? " The wound is in itself insignificant, but is just on the sole of my heel, and is much festered, about the size of a shilling, so that * A member of the Scottish bar, who married a sister of my father's friend, William Dunlop. LIFE IN EDINBURGH. 153 I cannot walk a single step without the greatest difficulty and pain. "I shall ride from this, back to Greenock if possible. Imme- diately on getting this (which I expect v/ill be Thursday forenoon), write that moment — directed to me at Achlian, by Inverary. On Wednesday the 8th, write to me at Miss Sym's, Glasgow, where I will be on the loth, and at Edinburgh, on Saturday the nth, probably about six o'clock. Your other letters, of course, become useless. I will write again first opportunity. — Thine with heart and soul till death, J. Wilson." The manner in which he wounded his foot is not a little characteristic. He does not mention the real cause of it 10 his wife, but curiously enough a story communicated by Dr Smith of Inverary, whose reminiscences have been already quoted from, explains this circumstance, the date of the occurrence he relates agreeing with that of the above letter : — " At a point on the road near to the house which I now occupy, and close by the river-side, as he was on his way to Achlian, a large party of tinkers were pitching their tents. There were men, women, and children — a band — some preparing to go to fish for their supper in the adjoining pool, and some, more full of action, were leaping. They were tall powerful young men, ready for any frolic, and all the bonhommie of Mr Wilson's nature was stirred in him. He joined the group ; talked with them and leaped with them. They were rejoicing in their sport, when he, finding himself hard pressed, stripped off coat and shoes ; but the river had had its channel once on the spot; it had leit a sharp stone, which was only concealed by the thin coating of earth over it ; his heel came down on that stone; it wounded him severely; and, unable to bear a shoe on, he had to go to Achlian. The tinkers would rather that the accident had happened to one of themselves, and they procured a cart in the neighbourhood in which he was conveyed to Achlian. The heel was carefully dealt with there by all but himself. Mrs Smith,* then a little girl, tells me that her mother remonstrated often, but in vain ; for he would fish, though scarcely * Then Miss Campbell, daughter of Mr Campbell of Achlian. 154 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. able to limp; and one day, as he was fishing from the shore, a large trout, such as Loch Awe is remarkable for, was hooked by him. His line was weak, and afraid to lose it, he cast himself into the loch, yielding to the motions of the strong creature until it became fatigued and unmanageable. Then he swam ashore with his victim in subjection, and brought it home; but he was without the bandage, and his heel bleeding copiously." This was no unusual mode of fishing with my father. As the Shepherd remarked : " In he used to gang, out, out, out, and ever sae far out frae the point o' a promontory, sinking aye further and further doon, first to the waist-band o' his breeks, then up to the middle button o' his waistcoat, then to the verra breist, then to the oxters, then to the neck, and then to the verra chin o' him, sae that you wunnered how he could fling the flee ; till last o' a' he would plump richt oot o' sight, till the Highlander on Ben Cruachan thocht him drooned. No he, indeed; sae he takes to the sooming, and strikes awa wi' ae arm, for the tither had haud o' the rod ; and could ye believe't, though it's as true as Scripture, fishing a' the time, that no a moment o' the cloudy day micht be lost; ettles* at an island a quarter o' a mile aff, wi' trees, and an auld ruin o' a religious house, wherein beads used to be counted, and wafers eaten, and mass muttered hundreds o' years ago ; and getting footing on the yallow sand or the green sward, he but gies himself a shake, and ere the sun looks out o' the clud, has hyucket a four-pounder, whom in four minutes (for it's a multiplying pirn the cretur uses) he lands, gasping through the giant gills, and glittering wi' a thousand spots, streaks, and stars, on the shore, "t With him the angler's silent trade was a ruling passion. He did not exaggerate to the Shepherd in the Nodes when he said that he had taken " a hundred and thii ty in one day out of Loch Awe," as we see by his letters that even larger numbers were taken by him. After the lapse of a week he again writes : — "Dearest Jane,— The Devil is a letter-sorter at the Edinburgh Post-Ofifice, so your Glenorchy letter of Thursday has not been sent to the place of his birth. The Inverary one I got on Saturday, which told me of your welfare, and the brats, which is enough. * Directs his course. + Nodes. THE HIGHLANDS. 155 Where the other is gone is known only to the old gentleman who will assuredly be hanged one day or other. " I promised not to write any more ; bat thinking you will not be angry with me, I have ventured to scribble a few hnes more. " My heel is in statu quo (two Latin words which Robert will explain to you). " I tried a day's fishing in Loch Awe, and killed a dozen fine ones. Yesterday I rode Achlian's charger to Craig. All here are well, and desire their love to you. Miss Campbell has been poorly, but mends apace. I have received most hospitable wel- come. I slept last night in our old room. To-day I limped up to MoUoy with my fishing-rod. Mrs M'Kay there has just been brought to bed of a son, who is doing well. They inquired most kindly for you, and were delighted to see me. What a fishing ! In one pool I killed twenty-one trouts, all of them about two pounds each, and have just arrived in time for dinner at Craig, loaded so that I could hardly walk. I have despatched presents to all around. Miss M'Intyre, with whom we dined, desires her love. Dr M'Intyre is from home. I shall stay here all night, being tired. On Wednesday, I leave Achlian on horseback, so depend on seeing me on Saturday. That is our marriage-day. In you and in my children lies all my bliss on earth. Every field here speaks of thee. — Thine for ever, J. Wilson." The next letter is two months later, the Court of Session having sat in the interval. Very probably, however, he was not particular in waiting till the last day of the summer sittings to start once more for his favourite Achlian and Loch Awe. I suspect the idea of eighteen dozen of trout out of the Aray would have influenced him more in these fine days than the mere chance of another brief before "the Lords" dispersed. "Achlian, Monday, 221/ July 1816. " Dearest Jennet, — Your letter of Thursday I received here on Saturday, and as Sir Richard Strahan said when he fell in with the French fleet, ' We were delighted.' "The day after I wrote last, namely, Monday, I walked up to 156 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. the wooden bridge and fished there, killing fifteen dozen. Un- luckily the family from home. On Tuesday I dined with Captain Archibald Campbell and his fair daughter at their cottage. We visited on Loch Fyne side, and met a pleasantish, smallish party. On Wednesday I left Inverary at a quarter before four in the morning, with young James M'Nicol, brother to Miss M'Nicol, and fished some moor farms about eight miles off; sport but moderate ; fatigue great ; slept like a top. On Thursday I dined with Mr M'Gibbon, the clergyman, who lives in that nice place beyond the wooden bridge. Passed a most social evening, and stayed all night On Friday I went to another class of moor farms, about eight miles from the wooden bridge, along with young Mr Bell ; had very bad sport indeed ; separated from him by chance, and after wandering among the hills for hours, got to the wooden bridge about ten at night. Found Miss Giles Bell and her sister returned; got supper, and in several hours their brother arrived in despair, thinking I was drowned. On Saturday morning returned to Inverary and packed up. Found a gig going to Dalmally which carried me snugly to Achlian, where I found all the worthy inhabi- tants well. On Sunday, crossed the Loch to Hayfield, and dined with Mr M'Neill of that })lace.* In the evening a most terrifiic thunder-storm. "To-day fished in Loch Awe; bad day; killed only one dozen, and returned to dinner; hicherto my sport has been but poorish. I feel unaccountably lazy, and doubt if I shall go to Rannoch at all. " I am quite well, but more fatigued than you can imagine, so my letter is but shortish. " Immediately on getting this, write me to Achlian, by Inverary, and send Barton's letter. Let thine be put into the Post-office before seven o'clock in the evening. You will please me by not going on board the 'Ramillies' till I return. But I do not counter- mand you, nor will I be the least angry if you do go. Bless the small creatures. — Everlastingly yours, J. Wilson." "Achlian, August 2, i8r6. " My dearest Jane, — Since I last wrote you I have been where there are no posts or post-offices, and till to-day have had no * " My poor dear old friend M'Neill of Hayfield. God rest his soul! It is in heaven. At ninety he was as lifeful as a boy at nineteen."— A't^cto. I THE HIGHLANDS. 157 opportunity of sending you a letter. I suppose you are incensed, and so am I. Your letters have reached me safely, but not Barton's, which I have never seen. Therefore hope you have forgotten to send it to the post ; if you have, keep it till I see thee. I have been over the moor of Rannoch, in Glencoe, and other glens near it ; at the foot of Loch Ericlit, and the country round Loch Treig; I have seen great scenery, undergone hard- ships, and am in good health. I returned to Achlian a few days ago, but the post was one day missed, and I sent this by a private hand to Dalmally, and thence to Edinburgh. I have had much good fishing, much bad, and much tolerable — picture of human life. Keep all letters till I see thee. But immediately on getting this write to me, care of Robert Findlay, Esq., Miller Street, Glasgow. I shall be there ere long, day I cannot fix, because conveyances are doubtful, but you will be looking upon me with a pleasant countenance somewhere about the 7th or 8th of this month. Recollect I left you on the nth, so it is not long since I went away as you said in your letter. "I suppose Cadell wished to see me about the Editiburgh Review. This is conjecture. ^^ hat he calls agreeable to me may turn out to be supercilious praise, saying I am not a good boy. — Farewell, J. Wilson." From Achlian he now worked his way across to Blair Athole, whence he writes to tell how he fares. He is " Lame in the knee," and has "not been in bed," but he is just starting, at 6.30 a.m., as if under vow or penance, on a journey of thirty-four miles ! "Dearest Jane, — It is half-past six mornmg, and 1 am just setting off to Braemar, anxious for your letter. I will write you at length first moment I have an opportunity; which will be in two or three days ; meanwhile I am well, though lame in my knee. " Obey all your directions, but, in addition to them, wTite on Friday (this day week) to me, care of Alexander M'Kenzie, Esq., Millbank, Dingwall. I have not been in bed, and am just setting off thirty-four miles. God bless and preserve thee and ours everlastingly ! J. Wilson. "Bridge of Tilt, Blair Athole, Friday, August 18 16." 15S MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. So northward he goes with his lame knee, as one burdened with some great exploring quest, which must be fulfilled at all hazards, and through all fatigues. Through the loneliest glens, up the highest mountain-tops, careless of weather, and finding "adventures" in the least likely places, he holds on to the north, and again to the west, till we light on him, after twenty-five miles' walk, sitting down to address his wife from the hospitable abode of his friend Mr M'Kenzie : — " MiLLBANK, Dingwall, Wednesday, ^■^th August. " My dearest Jane, — I wrote you last from Abergeldy, and I am afraid you may have been longing for a letter before this reaches you. Such, I hope, is not my vanity, but mutual kind love ; may it be our only blessing here and hereafter, and I am satisfied. " From Abergeldy I started (I think the day after I wrote you) and proceeded to the head of the Don river. My burden was truly insupportable. The same evening I got to Inchrory on the river Aven or Avon, a most lonely place, perhaps the most so in Scotland, where I slept. Next day (Thursday) I got to Tomintoul,* where I slept, a wild and moorland village. Next day was the annual market, and it rained incessantly. My adventures there I will give you afterwards, and they were not to my discredit. On Saturday morning (still most rainy) I proceeded to Grantown, fourteen miles, where I arrived at night, and slept comfortably ; the country most wild and desolate. About five miles from this live the Miss Grants of Liff'orchy. Thither on Sunday morning I repaired, and found them all at home and well, with a brother lately arrived from the East Indies. On Monday morning at three o'clock, he and I started to the top of Cairngorm, one of the highest mountains in Scotland, and returned at eight o'clock in the evening ; I tired, and he sick even unto death. On Tuesday morning, I left the house, and walked on towards Inverness, to a place called Craga, distance twenty-seven miles. It rained inces- * Of this place he says in the Nodes :^"Y)x\v^vr%, dancing, swearing, and quarrelhng going on all the time in Tomintoul, James, for a fair there is a wild rendezvous, as we both know, summer and winter ; and thither flock the wildest spirits of the wildest clans. " THE HIGHLANDS. 159 santly, and I had both toothache and earache. On Wednesday morning I started from Craga, and this same Wednesday reached Millbank, Mr M'Kenzie's house, from which I now write after a walk of twenty-five miles. So much then for a general sketch, which I will fill up when I am once more with you. " I find from your letter that our sweet ones are all unwell and likely to be so. That last letter was dated Friday, August 8th. I am miserable about them. To-morrow, that is, Thursday, August 14th, and that one day, I must rest here, for the fatigue I have lately undergone has been beyond anything I ever experienced. On Friday the 15th, I shall start again, and hope to be at Achlian, Dugald Campbell's, by Inverary, in a week from that time. So immediately on receiving this, which I think will be on Saturday 1 6th, write to me to that direction. Say you write on the day after you receive mine, whatever that day may be, and I will immediately write you on my arrival there ; I will lose no time in getting there, and I think in about a fortnight I shall see you. 1 trust in God the accounts will be good when I reach Achlian. But •to that point I will go as soon as I can. I have undergone great fatigue, and much bad weather, and long for your kind bosom, so help me God ! Inverary is nearly 150 miles from this, and no carriages, so I must walk all the way. Once more, I pray to God to take care of our beloved children, and to make them well to us. To take a chance of hearing from you, write one line to Post-Office, Fort-William, the moment you receive this, telling me about the children. But write as above mentioned to Achlian, as I may be at Fort-William before your letter reaches. In short, I will go to Achhan as soon as possible, and from your letter there will judge if I am instantly to return home. No delay will take place. I am most anxious about the children. God bless you ! and may the Almighty recover to us all our sweet ones ! The chicken-pox is not a bad complaint, so we need not fear ; poor Johnny fainting ! But they are all dear. — So farewell, yours tenderly, "John Wilson." The adventures of which he says "they were not to my discredit," were doubtless made known to Mrs Wilson, but never came to the i6o MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. ears of the younger generation, being considered either too trivial, or after many years forgotten. They were not forgotten, however, in the North, for in a recent letter from Mr Alexander M'Kenzie, Dingwall, this very adventure is thus narrated : — " I am the person specially honoured by that visit. Mr Wilson came to me (then living at Millbank near Dingwall) in such peculiar circumstances as leads me to think he would have made some memoranda about it. He had been fishing in the Dee, and by accident came to a fair at Tomintoul, where he saw a poor man much oppressed and ill-used by cinother, who was considered the bully of the country, and whose name, I think, he said, was Grant. Circumstances led to Mr Wilson putting off his coat, and giving this fellow a thrashing, but on picking up the coat he found it rifled of his pocket-book, containing all his money but a very few shillings ! In this state he left for Carrbridge, where he passed the night without more than enough of refreshment. In the morning he left for Inverness, and calling at the Post-Ofifice he found many letters to his address ; but not having money to pay the postage, the person in charge declined trusting him ! He then crossed Kessock Ferry with only a few pence, and arrived at Dingwall about midday, where I happened to be at the time, and was quite overjoyed at seeing him. He was dressed in white duck- trowsers covered with mud, and his white hat entirely so with fishing gear ! " As he proceeded to my house, distant about a mile, he shortly detailed his late adventure, and said he was almost famished. My first work was to send to Inverness for his letters, after which we enjoyed one of the most delightful evenings of my life. He kindly rested himself for several days, and I accompanied him through the most romantic and impassable parts of the country to Kintail, where I parted with him in the house of a worthy mutual friend, George Laidlaw. "In our rambles, which included some curious incidents, and which occupied several days, he fished wherever a loch or stream presented itself. We avoided all roads entirely, and lived with the shepherds." "Such stories as these might, to a certain extent, justify that I THE HIGHLANDS. i6i excellent old lady, Mrs Grant of Laggan, in making the following observations, when in writing to a friend, she burst forth upon the eccentricities of the young poet : — " Did I ever tell you of one of the said poets we have in town here — indeed one of our intimates — the most provoking creature imaginable ! He is young, handsome, witty j has great learning, exuberant spirits, a wife and children that he doats on (circum- stances one would think consolidating), and no vice that I know of, but on the contrary, virtuous principles and feelings. Yet his wonderful eccentricity would put anybody but his wife wild. She, I am convinced, was actually made on purpose for her husband, and has that kind of indescribable controlling influence over him that Catherine is said to have had over that wonderful savage the Czar Peter, " Pray look at the last Edinburgh Review, and read the favour- able article on John Wilson's ' City of the Plague.' He is the person in question." In the month of September he again visited Elleray, accompanied by the eldest of his little girls. On his way he wrote to his wife : — "Penrith, Friday, September 20th, Evening, Nine o'clock, 1816. " Dearest Jane, — We got safely to Hawick about ten o'clock ; found a comfortable room and fire ; supped and went to bed Maggy and Mary Topham* drank tea at the fireside in the same room with us and were in bed by eleven. Maggy stood her journey well ; made observations on the moon, and frightened me with the beast several times. We left Hawick in a chaise at ten next morning, and proceeded to Knox's, where we dined. We left that by eight o'clock, and reached Longtown by eleven, " I supped the ladies, and bedded them in half an hour. We left Longtown after breakfast, at ten o'clock; came through Carlisle, and dined at five o'clock. Maggy drank tea at seven, and imme- diately after retired to bed with Mary Topham, and I believe they are both sound asleep at this moment. "To-morrow morning at six o'clock we leave this for Patterdale, * Nursery-maid, L 1 6.' M&MOIR OF JOHN WILSOX. and T think most probably will remain all night at Bovvness. On Sunday will reach Hollow Oak to dinner. Nothing can excel Maggy's behaviour — she is perfect ; all eyes that looked on her loved her, and Miss Knox, I understand from Mary Topham, cut off a lock of her hair to keep. Merit is sure of being discovered at last. " She has sat on my knee almost the whole way, and I feel I love her better than ever I did before. She will be an angelic being like her gentle mother. 1" will write from Hollow Oak on Monday, so you will hear on Tuesday or Wednesday. Write to me on Tuesday, care of Mrs UUock, Bowness. " Give me all family and other news. Love Johnny for my sake, and teach him some prayers and hymns before I return. — Thy affectionate husband, John Wilson." In another letter a few days later, dated from Elleray, he gives rapid notes of his doings; how he attended a ball which was "most dull, though it gave universal satisfaction;" how next day he "lay in bed all day," and the next " crowed all day like a cock at Elleray, to Robertson's* infinite delight;" "the next day De * His friend Patrick, afterwards Lord Robertson, one of the most witty and warm-hearted of men. He was born in 1793 '< called to the Scotch bar in 1815 ; elected Dean of Faculty in 1842 ; raised to the bench in 1843 I died in 1855. Lock- hart wrote many a rhymingf epitaph upon him, one of which is quoted elsewhere. On another occasion, he is reported to have written, "Peter Robertson is 'a man,'" to use his own favourite quotation, "cast in Nature's amplest mould." He is admitted to be the greatest corporation lawyer at the Scotch bar ; and he is a vast poet as well as a great lawyer. Silence, gentlemen, for a song by Peter Robertson ; — " Come listen all good gentlemen of every degree ; Come listen all ye lady-birds, come listen unto me ; Come listen all you laughing ones, come listen all ye grave ; Come listen all and every one, while I do sing a stave. "One morning, I remember me, as I did lay in bed, I felt a strange sensation come a throbbing through my head ; And I thought unto myself, thinks I, Where was it I did dine ? With whom? Oh, I recall the name, — 'twas Baron Brandywine. " Let me see : Oh, after turtle we had punch, the spirits ram, And, if I'm not mistaken, we had iced hock and champagne. And sundry little sundries, all which go to make one merry. An intervening toss, or so, of some superb old sherry. ELLERA y. ^^3 Quincey and William Garnet dined with me here, Billy and Mrs Balmer officiating." He adds, " Party here very agreeable," which one can well believe. "To-morrow," he goes on, "Garnet, Robert- son, and self take coach to Keswick, and thence proceed to Butter- The Professor and Patrick Robertson. mere and Ennerdale. I will write thee on Saturday, fixing my day of return. I go to Ulverstone to see Maggy, etc. Don't hire a servant, without seeing and approving her — mind that. Write me ' ' Well, then, to be dramatic, we must needs imbibe a dram (A very sorry sort of pun — the perpetrator Sam) ; And then to port and claret with great industry we fell, Which, sooth to say, appeared to suit our party pretty well. "Then biscuits all bedevilled we designedly did munch, To gain a proper relish for that glorious bowl of punch, But after that I cannot say that I remember much, Except a hiccup-argument 'bout Belgium and the Dutch. "Such were my recollections, and such I sing to you, Good gentlemen and lady-birds — upon my soul it's true ; And if you wish to bear away the moral of my song. It's this — for all your lieadaches let the reasons still be strong." 1 think I detect Mr Lockhart's hand in the following good wishes :— "Oh, Petrus, Pedro, Peter, which you will, Long, long thy radiant destiny fulfil. 1 64 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. on Saturday as before. Put Elleray on the letter, else a surgeon at Bowness will read it. Love to Ung* and others. — Eternally yours. "J. W." From the excursion with Garnet and Robertson he is hurried back to Elleray on business, and writes in haste : — "Elleray, Sept. zZth, 1816. " My dearest Wife, — I have not half a minute to spare. Immediately on receiving this, send me the inventory of everything at Elleray. If it is too large to go by post, copy it over in one long sheet, and send it off on Thursday. If it can go by post, write oji Tuesday — same day you receive this. On receiving your letter to-morrow, I will write you at length, and tell you when I come home, which will be immediately. It was impossible to leave this hitherto, for reasons I will explain. You will have heard of Maggy since I saw her. I will see her on Wednesday, and tell you all about her. Whatever my anxieties and sorrows are or may be in this life, I have in your affection a happiness paramount to all on earth, and I think that I am happier in the frowns of fortune, with that angelic nature, than perhaps even if we had been living in affluence. God for ever bless you, and my sweet family, is the prayer of your loving and affectionate husband, J. Wilson." There are no more letters or memorials of that year. The next brings us into a new field, which calls for a chapter to itself Bright be thy wit, and bright the golden ore, Paid down in fees for thy deep legal lore. Bright be thy claret, brisk be thy champagne, Thy whisky-punch a vast, exhaustless main, With thee disporting on its joyous shore, Of that glad spirit quaffing evermore. Keen be thy stomach, potent thy digestion, And long thy lectures on ' the general question, While young and old swell out the general strain, We ne'er shall look upon his like again." • A playful soubriquet for his eldest son. Patrick Robertson, Esq. -From a sketch by the late Professor Edward Forbes. It LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 167 CHAPTER VIII. LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 1817-1820. With the year 18 17 we enter on a new epoch in Wilson's Hfe. Hitherto his hterary exertions had been confined almost exclusively to poetry; and the reception of his works, however favourable, had not been such as to satisfy him that that was the department in which he was destined to assert his superiority, or to find full scope for his varied powers. Much as has been said as to the mode in which these were exercised, and the comparative inadequacy of the results, I cannot but think that there is misconception on the subject. I dismiss the question what he or any other man of great powers ought to have done : I look simply at what he did do, which alone concerns us, now that his work is finished. Whether he might or should have written certain works on certain subjects, for the use or pleasure of his own generation and of posterity, seems to me an idle question. Enough for his vindication, that in a long and laborious literary life he wielded a wholesome and powerful influence in the world of letters ; and enough for his fame, that amid the haste and exigencies of incessant periodical composition, he wrote such things as no other man but himself could have written, and which will be read and delighted in as long as the highest kind of criticism and of prose-poetry are valued among men. Periodical literature, it seems to me, was precisely the thing for which he was suited by temperament, versatility, and power ; and unless it be broadly asserted, that the service done to letters and civilisation through the medium of a great literary organ is unim- portant, and unworthy of the efforts of a man of genius, I do not see how it can be maintained that Professor Wilson neglected or 1 68 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. threw awiy his gifts when he devoted them to the estabHshment and ma'ntenance of the influence of Blackwood's Magazine. Before, however, entering on the less peaceful events which follow, let us have a glimpse of him once more — rod in hand, and knapsack on back — away in the heart of the Highlands towards the close of July 1817. This time, however, he was burdened with a new load, for he carried besides his wardrobe and fishing-basket, a parcel of books. He had, in fact, come bound to produce an ''article" for the Edinburgh Monthly Magazine, and that inexorable familiar, the printer's devil, followed on his heels even into the wilds of Rannoch. There he finished for the August number of that magazine a review of " I-alla Rookh," of which the first part had appeared in June. The following letter is the only memorial of this expedition : — " My dearest Jane, — On Monday at four o'clock I got to Perth, and during the journey felt much for poor Robert, who must have got dreadfully wet. We dined comfortably there, and walked to Dunkeld in the evening on foot, a very pleasant walk after the rain. On Tuesday, we took the top of the coach to Pitlochry, thirteen miles from Dunkeld, and about six miles from the bridge, where we got into the coach from Mrs Izett's. We thence walked by the river Tummel (a scene somewhat like Borrowdale) to an inn at the head of Loch Tummel, where we stayed all night. On Wednesday, we fished up to Kinloch Rannoch, and I killed forty good trouts. I found our worthy friends here in good health and spirits. They have had two children since we saw them, and they inquired very kindly for you. On Thursday, I fished down to Mount Alexander, but the day was cold and unfavourable. Mr Stewart of Inverhadden dined with us at the inn — a rare original. I fear I did not go to bed sober. {Friday.) — I have breakfasted with him, and fished ; good sport, though, as usual, I lost several large ones. Menzies and his friend left me to-day for Loch Ericht, and I expect to see no more of them. To-morrow I ought to leave this, but that confounded Lalla Rookh is still on my hands ; so I shall review it to-morrow, leave it here, and be off to Blair Athole on Sunday. On Monday, I shall be at Captain Harden's, Altnagoich, Braemar, and hope on Wednesday to have good LITER ATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 169 accounts of my sweet girl and the fry. After that my motion:, are uncertain, but on Sunday evening write to ' Mr Wilson, Post-office, Inverness, to lie till called for,' and I hope to be there as soon as the letter. That is the second Sunday after my departure. No mistakes now. Write long and witty letters. The weather has been tolerable, and I am in good health. Give my love to Ung and the others, and God in his mercy keep them all well and happy. Heaven bless you for ever, and believe me thy loving and grateful husband. "KiNLOCH Rannoch, July 27, 1817." Here also may come in two pleasant letters from Jeffrey, before we arrive at the point when it became impossible for the editor ot the Edinburgh Review to exchange confidential and friendly com- munications with an acknowledged contributor to Blackwood : — "Craigcrook, loih October 1817. " My dear Wilson, — Do you think you could be prevailed on to write a review for me now and then ? Perhaps this may appear to you a very audacious request, and I am not sure that I should have had the boldness to make it, but I had heard it surmised, and in very intelligent quarters, that you had occasionally condescended to exercise the functions of a critic in works where your exertions must necessarily obtain less celebrity than in our journal. When I apply for assistance to persons in whose talents and judgment I have as much confidence as I have in yours, I leave of course the choice of their subjects very much to themselves, being satisfied that it must always be for my interest to receive all they are most desirous of sending. It is therefore rather with a view to tempt than to assist you, that I venture to suggest to you a general review of our dramatic poetry, a subject which I long meditated for myself, but which I now feel that I shall never have leisure to treat as I should wish to treat it, and upon which indeed I could not now enter, without a pretty laborious resumption of my early and half- forgotten studies. To you, I am quite sure, it is familiar, and while I am by no means certain that our opinions could always coincide, I have no hesitation in saying, that I should very much distrust my lyo MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. own when they were in absohite opposition to yours, and that I am unfeignedly of opinion that in your hands the disquisition will be more edifying and quite as entertaining as ever it could have been in mine. It is the appearance of the weak and dull article in the last Quarterly, which has roused me to the resolution of procuring something more worthy of the subject for the Edmburgh, and there really is nobody but yourself to whom I can look with any satisfac- tion for such a paper. " I do not want, as you will easily conjecture, a learned, osten- tatious, and antiquarian dissertation, but an account written with taste and feeling, and garnished, if you please, with such quotations as may be either very curious or very delightful. I intended some- thing of this sort when I began my review of Ford's plays, but I ran off the course almost at the starting, and could never get back again. " Now, pray, do not refuse me rashly. I am not without impatience for your answer, but I would ratlier not have it for a day or two, if your first impression is that it would be unfavourable. If you are in a complying mood, the sooner I hear it the better, " Independent of all this, will you allow me again to say, that I am very sincerely desirous of being better acquainted with you, and regret very much that my many avocations and irregular way of life have forced me to see so little of you. Could you venture to dine here without a party any day next week that you choose to name, except Saturday ? If you have no engagement, will you come on Monday or Tuesday? Any other day that may be more convenient. If you take my proposal into kind consideration, we may talk a little of the drama ; if not, we will fall on something else. — Believe me always very faithfully yours, F. Jeffrey. " Send your answer to George Street." The fact that my father agreed to contribute to an organ which soon after became the object of determined hostility in the period- ical to which he chiefly devoted his services, will not, I imagine, be now regarded in the same light as it was by the Edinburgh Whigs of 1817. The practice of writing on different subjects in organs of the most hostile opinions is one which is now so universal among LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 171 men of the highest character in the world of letters, that it needs no vindication here. At the time, too, when my father received this friendly overture from Jeffrey, the Magazine had not assumed that position as a representative of high Tory principles which by and by placed it in direct antagonism to the Review. The subjects on which he agreed to contribute were purely literary, and he was, no doubt, very glad to get the opportunity of expressing his views on poetry in an organ where that subject had not been treated in a style which he could consider satisfactory. It would appear that he had offered to review Coleridge in a friendly manner, which, taken in connexion with the fact that a fierce onslaught on that poet appeared in the Number of Blackwood at that very time in the press, may furnish matter for unfavourable judgment to any sym- pathizers in the angry feelings of that period. I have no fear, however, that this circumstance will lead to uncharitable conclu- sions in the minds of any whose opinion I value. I am content to risk the reader's estimate of my father's generosity and kindliness of nature on the real facts of his life, without keeping anything in the background that throws light upon them. The following is Jeffrey's reply to his communication, which I regret has not come into my hands : — "Craigcrook, 17M October 1817. " My dear Wilson, — I give you up Byron freely, and thankfully accept of your conditional promise about the drama; for Coleridge, I should like first to have a little talk with you. I had intended to review him fairly, and, if possible, favourably, myself, at all events mercifully ; but, on looking into the volume, I can discern so little new, and so much less good than I had expected, that I hesitate about noticing him at all. I cannot help fearing, too, that the discrepancy of our opinions as to that style of poetry may be too glaring to render it prudent to venture upon it, at least under existing circumstances ; and, besides, if I must unmask all my weakness to you, I am a little desirous of having the credit, though it should only be an inward one, of doing a handsome or even kind thing to a man who has spoken ill of me, and am unwilling that a favourable review of this author should appear in the Review from 17 2 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSOI^. day other hand than my own. But we shall talk of this after I have considered the capabilities of the work a little further. " I am very much gratified by the kind things you are pleased to say of me, though the flattering ones with which you have mixed them rather disturb me. When you know me a little better, you will find me a very ordinary fellow, and really not half so vain as to take your testimony in behalf of my qualifications. I have, I suppose, a little more practice and expertness in some things than you can yet have, but I am very much mistaken if you have not more talent of every kind than I have. What I think of your character you may infer from the offer I have made you of my friendship, and which I rather think I never made to any other man. " I think you have a kind heart and a manly spirit, and I feel perfectly assured that you will always act with frankness, gentleness, and firmness. I ask pardon for sending you this certificate, but I do not know how else to express so clearly the grounds of my regard and esteem. " Believe me always, very faithfully yours, "F. Jeffrey. " I hope to see you on your return from Glasgow." Of the subjects spoken of or contemplated, the only one which he took up was Byron, the review of whom did not make its appearance till August of the following year. That was my father's first and last contribution to the Edinburgh Review. Another fragment of a letter from Jeffrey, that must have been written not long after, may also be inserted here for the sake of coherence. It refers to a vindication of Wordsworth by my father, in reply to a letter in the Edinburgh Magazine criticising the poet's strictures on the Edi?iburgh Review's estimate of the character of Burns : — . . . " hear that you had anything to do with it, and was so far from feeling any animosity to the author that I conceived a very favourable opinion of him. I have not had an opportunity of looking into it since I saw your letter, but I can most confidently assure you that nothing that is there said can break any squares between us, and that you may praise Wordsworth as much as you LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZL^E. 173 please, and vilipend my criticisms on him in the most sweeping manner without giving me a moment's uneasiness or offence, pro- vided you do not call me a slanderer, and an idiot, and a puppy, and all the other fine names that that worthy and judicious person has thought fit to lavish on me. I fairly tell you that I think your veneration for that gendeman is a sort of infatuation, but in you it is an amiable one, and I should think meanly of myself indeed if I were to take exception at a man for admiring the poetry or the speculative opinions of an author who, having had some provoca- tion, has been ridiculously unjust to me. One thing I am struck with as a wilful blindness and partiality in the paper in question, and that was your passing over entirely the remarkable fact of the said W saying litde or nothing of the blasphemies against Burns which occur in the Quarterly, and which are far more violent and offensive than mine, and pouring out all the vials of his wrath at the Edinburgh, which had given him much less provocation. Is it possible for you in your conscience to believe after this that the tirade against tht Edinburgh critic was dictated by a pure, generous resentment for the injuries done to Burns, and not by a litde vin- dictive feeling for the severities practised on himself? By the way, I think I am neaj-ly right in what I have said of Burns ; that is, I think the doctrine and morality to which I object is far oftener inculcated in his writings than any other, and is plainly most familiar to his thoughts, though perhaps it was ungenerous to denounce it so strongly. " I have not written so long a letter these three years. Pray let me hear that you are writing a review of Lord B^ for me in peace and felicity, and that you have resolved to dirty your fingers no more with the quarrels of magazmes and booksellers. God bless you ! — Very truly yours, F. Jeffrey." My father's connexion with Blackwood's Magazine was such as to make it absolutely necessary, in any record of his life, to give some account of the rise of this periodical, and of the circumstances which led to his becoming so intimately associated with its history. I shall endeavour to do so as briefly as I can. Fortunately we are now sufficiently removed by time from the controversies of those 174 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. exciting days, to look at them with perfect calmness, if not im- partiality ; with something of wonder it may be, at the fierceness displayed in contests about things which, in our own more peaceful times, are treated with at least the affectation of philosophic indif- ference ; but also, with some admiration of the vigour manifested in supporting what was heartily believed. It is indeed impossible for us at this time to realize fully the state of feeling that prevailed in the literature and politics of the years between 1810 and 1830. We can hardly imagine why men, who at heart respected and liked each other, should have found it necessary to hold no communion, but, on the contrary, to wage bitter war because the one was an admirer of the Prince Regent and Lord Castlereagh, the other a supporter of Queen Caroline and Mr Brougham. We cannot conceive why a poet should be stigmatized as a base and detestable character, merely because he was a Cockney and a Radical ; nor can we comprehend how gentlemen, aggrieved by articles in newspapers or magazines, should have thought it necessary to the vindication of their honour, to horsewhip or shoot the printers or editors of the publications in which such articles appeared. Yet in 18 1 7, and the following years, we find such to have been the state of things in the capital of Scotland. Not only was society actually less civilized ; but politics, which now happily form no barrier between men of otherwise congenial minds, then constituted the one great line of demarcation. You were either a Tory and a good man, or a Whig and a rascal, and vice versa. If you were a Tory, and wanted a place, it was the duty of all good Tories to stand by you; if you were a Whig, your chance was small; but its feebleness was all the more reason why you should be proclaimed a martyr, and all your opponents profligate mercenaries. If I exaggerate, I am open to correction ; but such appears to me to have been the prevailing tone among the men who figured most actively in public life about the time to which this chapter relates. In literature, at that time, the Edinburgh Review was supreme. Its doctrines were received, among those who believed in them, as oracular; and in the hands of the small retailers of political and literary dogmas who swore by it, these were becoming insufferably tiresome to the Tory part of mankind, who, singularly enough, had no literary oracle of LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 175 their own north of the Tweed. I suppose the party being strong in power did not feel the want of such influence. The more ardent and active minds on that side, however, were naturally impatient of the dictatorship exercised by Mr Jeffrey, and wanted only oppor- tunity to establish an opposing force in the interests of their own venerable creed. That opportunity came, and was vigorously used, too vigorously at first, sometimes cruelly and unjustly, but ulti- mately with results eminently beneficial. To begin then at the beginning. In the month of December 18 1 6, Mr William Blackwood, who had by uncommon tact and energy, established his character in the course of a few years as an enterprising publisher in Edinburgh, was applied to by two literary men to become the publisher of a new monthly magazine, which they had projected.* These gentlemen were James Cleghorn,t who had acquired some literary position as editor of a Farmers' Magazine, and Thomas Pringle,J a pleasant writer and poet, who afterwards emigrated to South Africa. || The idea was good, and the time fitting, for the " felt want," which is now pleaded about once a week as the ground for establishing some new journal, was then a serious reality. The only periodical in Edinburgh of any mark besides the Review being the Scots Magazine, published by Constable, once a highly respectable, but at that time a vapid and almost " doited " publication. Messrs Cleghorn and Pringle had secured the co-operation of several clever writers, — among others, Mr R. P. Gillies, and James Hogg, — and Mr Blackwood's sagacious eye at once discerned the elements of success in the project. The arrangements were accordingly proceeded with, on the footing that the publisher and the editors were to be joint proprietors, and share the profits, if any. The first number appeared in April 181 7, under * Mr Gillies in his Memoirs gives the credit of the origin and suggestion to Hogg. i" Mr Cleghorn was more fortunate in his financial than his literary undertakings, having been the founder of the Scottish Provident Institution, by whom a monument to his memory has been erected in the Edinburgh Warriston Cemetery. He died in May 1838. X Author of Narrative of a Residence in South Africa, Ephcmerides, etc. ; born 1789, died 1834. y By a curious coincidence both these gentlemen were lame, and went on crutches, an infirmity to which ludicrous but most improper allusion is made in the Chaldee MS., where they are described as coming in "skipping on staves." 176 MEMOIR OF JOHN- WILSON. the title of The Edinburgh Mojithly Magazine. The contents were varied and agreeable, but no way remarkable ; and a prefatory note to the next number, in which the editors spoke of " Our humble Miscellany," indicates a certain mediocrity of aim which must have been distasteful to the aspiring energy of the publisher, who had very different views of what the Magazine ought to be made. There was no definite arrangement for the payment of contributors. In fact it seems to have been taken for granted that contributions were to be supplied on the most lAoderate terms, if not altogether gratuitously. I find Mr Blackwood stating in his subsequent vin- dication of himself, in reply to the charge of having supplied no money to the editors, that during the six months of their connexion, he "had paid them different sums, amounting to ^50." He adds, "They will tell you I never refused them any money they applied for. They may perhaps say the money was for contributors ; but to this moment I am utterly ignorant of any contributors to whom they either have or were called upon to pay money, excepting some very trifling sums to two individuals."* Perhaps this fact may have something to do with the crisis that soon occurred in the management of the Magazine; at all events, it had not gone beyond two numbers, when editors and publisher found they could not work together. Mr Pringle was a very amiable man, but his brother editor was a less agreeable person, and with an estimate of his own literary powers considerably higher than that entertained by his sagacious publisher. On the 19th of May the co-editors formally wrote to Mr Blackwood, letting huii know that his interference with their editorial functions could no longer be endured. Mr Black- wood was probably nothing loath to receive such an intimation, and in the exercise of his rights as a partner and publisher, advertised in the June number of the Magazine that its publication would be discontinued at the end of three months from that date. The editors, thrown adrift by this coup, immediately offered their services to Messrs Constable and Co., as editors of a new series of the * This economical style of work contrasts curiously with the munificence sub- sequently practised in connexion with the Magazine. A few years after this, I find Wilson informing a contributor, " Our pay is ten guineas a sheet," a rate since that time nearly doubled. LITERATURE—BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 177 Scots Magazine, to appear under the title of The Edinburgh Magazine ; while Mr Blackwood, after some contention and cor- respondence, agreed to pay his quondam partners ;^i25 for their share in the copyright of the Edinbiagh Monthly Magazine* In acquiring the copyright of the Magazine, Mr Blackwood determined to abandon its old title, and give it a name combining the double advantage that it would not be confounded with any other, and would at the same time help to spread the reputation of the publisher. Accordingly in October 181 7, appeared for the first time Black- woods Edinburgh Alagazine (No. vii. from commencement), and it needed no advertising trumpet to let the world know that a new reign (a reign of terror in its way) had begun. In the previous six numbers there had been nothing allowed to creep in that could possibly offend the most zealous partisan of the Blue and Yellow. On the contrary, the opening article of No i. was a good-natured eulogium on Mr Francis Horner; the Edinburgh Review was praised for its ability, moderation, and good taste ; politics were rather eschewed than otherwise ; the literary notices were, with one or two exceptions, elaborately commonplace and complaisant, and, in fact, everything was exemplarily careful, correct, and colourless. No. VII. spoke a different language, and proclaimed a new and sterner creed. Among a considerable variety of papers, most of them able and interesting, it contained not less than three of a kind well calculated to arouse curiosity and excitement, and to give deep offence to sections more or less extensive of the reading public. The first was a most unwarrantable assault on Coleridge's Biographia Literaria, which was judged to be a "most execrable" * The sum they had demanded was ;(^3oo, but according to the publisher's accounts submitted to the law-agent of the editors, the success of the work had not been such as to justify that estimate. The accoimts showed that so far from having made profit, the pubhsher was nearly /■140 out of pocket, and that, "even if tlie whole impression were sold off, there would not be ^70 of clear profit." According to this estimate, which seems to have satisfied the agent (no other than the afterwards celebrated George Combe), the half share of the editors at the most would have been worth ;^35. What the number of copies printed was I have no means of knowing ; it was, probably, not large, and the fact that the whole impression was not disposed of, gives some ground for the behef that the publisher had reason to be dissatisfied with the management. M lyS MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. performance, and its author a miserable compound of "egotism and malignity."* The second was an even more unjustifiable attack on Leigh Hunt, who was spoken of as a " profligate creature," a person "without reverence either for God or man." The third was the famous " Chaldee Manuscript," compared with which the sins of the others were almost pardonable in the eyes of a great portion of the public. The effect of this article upon the small society of Edinburgh can now hardly be realized, t It was evident, in a word, that a new and very formidable power had come into existence, and that those who wielded it, whoever they were, were not men to stick at trifles. The sensation produced by the first number was kept up in those that followed. There was hardly a number for many months that did not contain at least one attack upon somebody, and the business was gone about with a systematic determination that showed there was an ample store of the same ammunition in reserve. Most people, however virtuous, have a kind of malicious pleasure in seeing others sacrificed, if the process be artistically gone about, and the Blackwood tomahawkers were undeniable adepts in the art. Even those who most con- demned them, accordingly showed their appreciation of their per- formances by reading and talking of them, which was exactly the thing to increase their influence. It must not be imagined, how- ever, that the staple of Blackwood's contributions consisted of mere banter and personality. These would have excited but slight and temporary notice had the bulk of the articles not displayed a rare combination of much higher qualities. Whatever subjects were discussed, were handled with a masterly vigour and freshness, and * It is edifying to find this article criticised thus in "Peter's Letters" two years afterwards : — ' ' This is indeed the only one of all the various sins of the Magazine for which I am at a loss to discover not an apology but a motive. . . . The result is bad, and, in truth, very pitiable." •j- It is unnecessary here to give an account of this singular y^?/ d' esprit, the history of which will be found sufficiently detailed in Professor Ferrier s excellent Preface to it, in vol. iv. of Wilson's Works. I may add this fact only, that it was composed in 53 Queen Street, amid shouts of laughter, that made the ladies in the room above send to inquire, in wonder, what the gentlemen below were about. I am informed that among those who were met together on that memorable occasion was Sir William Hamilton, who also exercised his wit in writing a verse, and was so amused by his own performance that he tumbled off his chair in a fit of laughter. LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 17O developed a fulness of knowledge and variety of talent that could not fail to command respect even from the least approving critic. The publisher knew too well what suited the public taste, and had too much innate sense and fairness to allow more than a reasonable modicum of abuse in the pages of his Magazine. But he had a difficult task in accommodating the inclinations of his fiery associates to the dictates of prudence and justice ; appreciating highly, as he did, their remarkable talents, and unwilling to lose their services, it required great tact and firmness to restrain their sharp pens, and he more than once paid dearly, in soHd cash, for their wanton and immoderate expressions.* The public, whether pleased or angiy, inquired with wonder * The early defects of the Magazine are nowhere better analysed than by the very hands that were chiefly engaged in the work. The authors of " Peter's Letters.'' after pointing out the faults of the Edinburgh Review, go on to say, "These faults- faults thus at last beginning to be seen by a considerable number of the old readers and admirers of the Edinburgh Review— sezm. to have been at the bottom of the aversion which the writers who estabHshed Blackwood's Magazine had against it ; but their quarrel also included a very just disapprobation of the unpatriotic mode of con- sidering the pohtical events of the times adopted all along by the Review, and also of its occasional irreligious mockeries, borrowed from the French philosophy, or soi-disant philosophy of the last age. Their great object seems to have been to break up the monopoly of influence which had long been possessed by a set of persons guilty of perverting, in so many ways, talents on all hands acknowledged to be great. And had they gone about the execution of their design with as much candour and good feeling as would seem to have attended the conception of it, I have no doubt they would very soon have procured a mighty host of readers to go along with them in all their conclusions. But the persons who are supposed to have taken the lead in directing the new forces, wanted many of those qualities which were most necessary to insure success to their endeavours ; and they possessed others which, although in themselves admirably fitted for enabling them to conduct their project successfully, tended, in the manner in which they made use of them, to throw many unnecessary obstacles in their way. In short, they were very young, or very inexperienced men, who, although passionately fond of literature, and even well skilled in many of its finest branches, were by no means accurately acquainted with the structure and practice of Uterature as it exists at this day in Britain. . . . They approached the lists of literary warfare with the spirit at bottom of true knights ; but they had come from the woods and the cloisters, and not from the cities and haunts of active men, and they had armed themselves, in addition to their weapons of the right temper, with many other weapons of off'ence, which, although sanctioned in former times by the practice of the heroes in whose repositories they had found them rusting, had now become utterly exploded, and were regarded, and justly regarded, as entirely unjustifiable and disgraceful by all who surveyed with modern eyes the arena of their exertions." i8o MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. where all this sudden talent had lain hid that now threatened to set the Forth on fire. Suspicions were rife; but Mr Blackwood could keep a secret, and knew the power of mystery. Who his contributors were, who his editor, were matters on which neither he nor they chose to give more information than was necessary. It might suffice for the public to know from the allegorical descriptions of the Chaldee MS., that there was a host of mighty creatures in the service of the " man in plain apparel," conspicuous among which were the " beautiful Leopard from the valley of the Palm trees," and "the Scorpion which delighteth to sting the faces of men." As for their leader, he was judiciously represented as a veiled personage, whose name it was in vain to ask, and whose personality was itself a mystery. On that point the public, which cannot rest satisfied without attributing specific powers to specific persons, refused after a time to acknowledge the mystery, and insisted on recognising in John Wilson the real impersonation of Blackwood's "veiled editor." The error has often been emphatically corrected ; let it once again be repeated, on the best authority, that the only real editor Blackwood' s Magazine ever had was Blackwood himself. Of this fact I have abundant proofs. Suffice it that contributions from Wilson's own pen have been altered, cut down, and kept back, in compliance with the strong will of the man whose name on the title-page of the Magazine truly indicated with whom lay the sole responsibility of the management. At what precise date my father came into personal communica- tion with Mr Blackwood does not appear. Before that, however, he had been an anonymous contributor to the Magazine. In the very first number is a poem entitled, "The Desolate Village, a Reverie," with the initial N, which bears strong marks of his style. Some others, similarly signed, and of similar qualities, occur in subsequent numbers. In the Notices to correspondents in No. ii., it is stated that the " Letter on the proposed new translation of the Psalms" was too late for insertion. That letter, which did not appear, is referred to in the following note, without date or signa- ture, in my father's handwriting : — "Sir, — I enclose a letter for your Magazine from the same anonymous writer who sent you a communication relative to a new Mr Wilson, alias "The Leopard." Mr Lockhart, alias "The Scorpion." LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 1S3 translation of the Psalms. If these communications are inserted, and I feel some confidence that they are fitted for a work like the Edinburgh Magazine, I shall take care to send you some little trifle every month. But I prefer remaining anonymous at present, till I see how my communications are appreciated." How the monthly trifles were appreciated by Mr Blackwood's two editors matters not ; that they were appreciated by that gentleman himself soon became apparent. Probably enough some of the anonymous correspondent's contributions gave rise to those differ- ences of opinion between the publisher and the editors, which ended in their separation. One cannot but suspect that the writer of the paper referred to in the following "Notice to a Correspond- ent " was either the Leopard or the Scorpion : — " The paper on Craniology by Peter Candid would have appeared in our present number, if it had not contained some improper personal allusions." In the same number (iii.), at all events, is a review of "The Craniad," a Poem, which may be given entire.* I have no doubt the cautious editors inserted it with great misgivings as to its con- taining "improper personal allusions;" very possibly the publisher inserted it without consulting them. It is one of the very few lively things in the Edinburgh Monthly Magazine. In the new Magazine, relieved from the editorial incubus, and the embarrassments of a divided responsibility, the genius of Wilson found free scope. Like a strong athlete who never before had room or occasion to display his powers, he now revelled in their exercise in an arena where the competitors were abundant, and the onlookers eagerly interested. Month after month he poured forth the exuberant current of his ideas on politics, poetry, philo- sophy, religion, art, books, men, and nature, with a freshness and * The Craniad, or Spurzheim Illustrated. A Poem in Two Parts. 12010. Blackwood. Edinburgh, 1817. "The Craniad is the worst poem we have now in Scotland. The author has it in his power at once to decide the great craniological controversy. Let him submit his skull to general inspection, and if it exhibit a single intellectual organ, Spurzhaim's theory is overthrown." The original of this charac- teristic bit of criticism occurs in a MS. book, described by Mr Gillies as an " enormous ledger," which, he says, was taken possession of by my father, and filled with "skeletons" of proposed articles. Of these sketches, however, the much mutilated volume contains none, the existing contents being almost entirely poetr)'. 184 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON: force that seemed incapable of exhaustion, and regardless of obstacles. It was in fact only a change in the form of his activity. In that new and more exciting field he doubtless dealt many a blow, of which, on calm reflection and in maturer years, he saw reason to repent. But without at all excusing the extravagance of censure and the violence of language which often disfigured these early contributions to the Magazine, I cannot say that I have been able to trace to his hand any instance of unmanly attack, or one shade of real malignity. There did appea'" in the Magazine wanton and unjustifiable strictures on persons such as Wordsworth and Coleridge, with whom he was on terms of friendship, and for whom, in its own pages and elsewhere, he professed, as he sincerely felt, the highest esteem. But when it is well understood that he was never in any sense the editor, and that in those early days of the Magazine the ruling principle seemed to be that every man fought for his own hand, and was surrounded with a cloud of secrecy even from his fellows, it will appear that he had simply the alternative of ceasing to contribute further to the Magazine, or of continuing to do so under the disadvantage of seeming to approve what he really condemned.* That he adopted the latter course is, I think, no stigma on his character; and in after days, when his influence in the Magazine had become paramount, he made noble amends for its former sins. The staff of contributors whom Mr Blackwood had contrived to rally round his standard contained many distinguished men. "The Great Unknown," and the venerable "Man of Feeling," were enlisted on his side, and gave some occasional help. Dr M'Crie, the biographer of Knox, and Dr Andrew Thomson, were solemnly and at much length reproved by an orthodox pamphleteer, styling himself Calvinus, for their supposed association with the wicked authors of the Chaldee Manuscript. Sir David Brewster con- tributed scientific articles, as did also Robert Jameson and James Wilson. Among the other contributors, actual or presumed, were De Quincey, Hogg, Gillies, Fraser Tytler, Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Sir * I'hus it is possible his desire to review Coleridge favourably in the Edinh7tr!;h may have arisen from a wish to do justice to that great man, the opportunity for which was denied in the pages of Blackwood, A SCOTCH MINISTER. "When last in Scotland I was advised to look about among the pulpits, to try whether any living specimen could be found resembling the ancient Scottish worthies. I did so, but was not successful." — Dr Ulrick Stcnistare on the National Character of the Scots. — Blackwood, vol. iv., p. 329. A SCOTCH JUDGE. LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 1 87 William Hamilton, and his brother, the author of Cyril Thornton^ But though all these and more figured in the list of Blackwood's supporters, there were but two on whom he placed his main reliance, the most prolific and versatile of all the band, who between them were capable at any time of providing the whole contents of a Number. These were John Wilson and John Gibson Lockhart. Those whose only knowledge of that pair of briefless young advocates was derived from seeing them pacing the Parlia- ment House, or lounging carelessly into Blackwood's saloon to read the newspapers,t and pass their jokes on everybody, including themselves, could have little idea of their power of work, or of the formidable manner in which it was being exercised. That blue- eyed and ruddy-cheeked poet, whose time seemed to hang lightly enough upon his hands, did not quite realize one's idea of the redoubtable critic whose " crutch " was to become so formidable a weapon. Nor did his jaunty-looking companion, whose leisure seemed to be wholly occupied in drawing caricatures, | appear a likely person, when he sauntered home from Princes Street, to sit down to a translation from the German, or to dash off at a sitting * Thomas Hamilton wrote several works besides Cyril Thornton; among others, Annals of the Peninsular Campaign, and Men and Manners in America. He died in 1842 at the age of fifty-three. t That saloon and its proprietor are thus described by Dr Peter Morris : — " Then you have an elegant oval saloon lighted from the roof, where various groups of loungers and Uterary dilettanti are engaged in looking at, or criticising among them- selves, the publications just arrived by that day's coach from town. In such critical colloquies, the voice of the bookseller may ever and anon be heard mingling the broad and unadulterated notes of its Auld Reekie music ; for unless occupied in the recesses of the premises with some other business, it is here that he has his usual station. He is a nimble, active-looking man of middle age, and moves about from one corner to another with great alacrity, and apparently under the influence of high animal spirits. His complexion is very sanguineous, but nothing can be more intelligent, keen, and sagacious than the expression of his whole physiognomy ; above all, the grey eyes and eyebrows, as full of locomotion as those of Catalani." — Peter s Letters. X It is said, with what truth I know not, that clever as Mr Lockhart was with both pen and pencil, he lacked curiously one gift without which no man can be a success- ful barrister ; he could not, like many other able writers, make a speech. His portfolios show that, instead of taking notes during a trial, his pen must have been busily employed in photographing all the parties engaged, Judge, counsel, and prisoner. I avail myself of this opportunity to insert here two specimens of his wonderful power, one taken from the Bench, and another from the Pulpit. i8S MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. a ,^r copy" enough to fill a sheet of Blackwood's Magazine. The striking contrast in the outward aspect of the two men corresponded truly to their difference of character and temperament, — a differ- ence, however, which proved no obstacle to their close intimacy. There was a picturesque contrast between them, which might be simply defined by light and shade ; but there was a more striking dissimilarity than that which is merely the result of colouring. Mr Lockhart's pale oHve complexion had something of a Spanish character in it, that accorded well with the sombre or rather melancholy expression of his countenance ; his thin lips, com- pressed beneath a smile of habitual sarcasm, promised no genial response to the warmer emotions of the heart. His compact, finely-formed head indicated an acute and refined intellect. Cold, haughty, superciUous in manner, he seldom won love, and not unfrequently caused his friends to distrust it in him, for they sometimes found the warmth of their own feelings thrown back upon them in presence of this cold indifference. Circumstances afterwards conferred on him a brilliant position, and he gave way to the weakness which seeks prestige from the reflected glory found in rank. The gay coteries of London society injured his interest in the old friends who had worked hand in hand with him when in Edinburgh. He was well depicted by his friend through the mouth of the Shepherd, as the " Oxford collegian, wi' a pale face and a black toozy head, but an e'e like an eagle's ; and a sort o' lauch about the screwed-up mouth o' him that fules ca'ed no canny, for they couldna' thole the meaning o't." I am fortunate enough to be able to give the capital likeness on the opposite page, drawn by his own hand, in which the satirist who spared no one, has most assuredly not been flattering to himself. Wilson's appearance in those days is thus described in Peter's Letters by Mr Lockhart : — "In complexion he is the best specimen I have ever seen of the genuine or ideal Goth. His hair is of the true Sicambrian yellow ; his eyes are of the brightest, and at the same time of the clearest blue, and the blood glows in his cheek with as firm a fervour as it did, according to the description of Jornandes, in those of the 'Bello gaudentes, prselia ridentes Teutones' of Attila." The black-haired Spanish-looking Oxonian, i Mr Gibson Lockhart, alias Baron Lauerwinkel, alias William Wastle, alias Dr Ulrick Sternstare, alias Dr Peter Morris, etc., as sketched by himself. 1- 4 I LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 191 with that uncanny laugh of his, was a very dangerous person to encounter in the field of letters. "I've sometimes thocht, Mr North," says the Shepherd, "that ye were a wee feared for him yoursel', and used rather, without kennin't, to draw in your horns." Systematic, cool, and circumspect, when he armed himself for conflict it was with a fell and deadly determination. The other rushed into combat rejoicingly, like the Teutons ; but even in his fiercest mood, he was alive to pity, tenderness, and humour. When he impaled a victim, he did it, as Walton recommends, not vin- dictively, but as if he loved him. Lockhart, on the other hand, though susceptible of deep emotions, and gifted with a most playful wit, had no scruple in wounding to the very quick, and no thrill of compassion ever held back his hand when he had made up his mind to strike. He was certainly no coward, but he liked to fight under cover and keep himself unseen, while Wilson, even under the shield of anonymity, was rather prone to exhibit his own unmistakable personality. Such were the two principal contributors to Blackwood when it broke upon the startled gaze of Edinburgh Whigdom, like a fiery comet "that with fear of change perplexes monarchs." Not without reason did the adherents of the " Blue and Yellow " wish ill to the formidable new comer, for apart from its undeniable offences against good feeling and taste, there was a power and life about the Magazine that betokened ominously for the hitherto unchal- lenged supremacy of the great Review. In spite of its errors, the substantial merits of the Magazine securely established its popular- ity, and in the course of a few years it became recognised through- out Britain as the most able and interestijig periodical work that had ever been published. In noticing the early contributors, it would not do to pass over Mr Robert Sym, whose pseudonym of " Timothy Tickler " became as familiar to its readers as that of Christopher North himself. That "noble and genuine old Tory," as the Shepherd calls him, was Wilson's uncle, and in his hospitable house in George Square, alias " Southside," the contributors to the Magazine had many a merry gathering. He was a fine-looking, elderly gentleman, of uncommon height and aristocratic bearing, his white hair contrasting strikingly 192 MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSO.W with the 3'outhful freshness of his complexion. "Tickler" says the Shepherd, "is completely an original, as any one may see who has attended to his remarks ; for there is no sophistry there ; they are every one his own. Nay, I don't believe that North has, would, or durst put a single sentence into his mouth that had not proceeded out of it. No, no ; although I was a scapegoat, no one, and far less a nephew, might do so with Timothy Tickler.* His reading, both ancient and modern, is boundless ; his taste and perception acute beyond those of other men \ his satire keen and biting ; but at the same time his good-humour is altogether inexhaustible, save when ignited by coming into collision with Whig or Radical prin- ciples. At a certain period of the night our entertainer knew by the longing looks which I cast to a beloved corner of the dining- room what I was wanting; then with 'Oh, I beg your pardon, Hogg, I was forgetting,' he would take out a small gold key, that hung by a chain of the same precious metal to a particular button-hole, and stalk away, as tall as life, open two splendid fiddle-cases, and pro- duce their contents, first the one and then the other, but always keeping the best to himself. I'll never forget with what elated dignity he stood straight up in the middle of that floor and rosined his bow : there was a twist of the lip and an upward beam of the eye that was truly sublime ; then down we sat side by side and began. ... At the end of every tune we took a glass, and still our enthusiastic admiration of the Scottish tunes increased, our energies of execution were redoubled, till ultimately it became, not only a complete and well-contested race, but a trial of strength to determine which should drown the other. The only feelings short of ecstacy that came across us in these enraptured moments were caused by hearing the laugh and joke going on with our friends, as if no such thrilling strains had been flowing. But if Sym's eye chanced to fall on them, it instantly retreated upwards again in mild indignation."! The Shepherd himself vi^as not the least remarkable among that set of remarkable men. In spite of qualities that made it impos- * Mr Sym was born in 1750 and died in 1&44. + But all the papers in Blackwood signed "Timothy Tickler " were not written by Mr Sym, Mr Hogg notwithstanding. LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 193 sible perfectly to respect him, his original genius and good-natured simplicity made him a favourite with them all, until his vanity had become quite unendurable. He plumed himself immensely on being the real originator of the Magazine, and of the Chaldee ms. He was a very frequent contributor, but, in addition to his own genuine compositions, he got the credit of numberless performances, both in prose and verse, which he had never beheld till they appeared in the Magazine. This was a part of that system of mystification practised in the management, which has never been carried so far in any other publication, and undoubtedly contributed very greatly to its success. The illustrious example of Sir Walter Scott had given encouragement to this species of deception, and the editor and writers of Blackwood thought themselves quite at liberty, not only to perplex the public by affixing all sorts of fictitious names and addresses to their communications,* but to put forth theiryV//.r d' esprit occasionally under cover of the names of real personages who had never dreamed of so distinguishing themselves. This was certainly carrying the system to a most unwarrantable length ; but it must be allowed that in the case of the two individuals most played upon in this respect, the liberty was taken by no means amiss. "The Shepherd" was one of these, and he rather enjoyed the fame which was thus thrust upon him in addition to his own proper deserts, f He gives a most amusing account of his sufferings at the hands of Lockhart, whom he describes as " a mischievous * In the early numbers of the Magazine one meets a perfect host of these mythical personages, and the impression conveyed to the credulous reader must have been that contributions were flowing in from remarkable persons in all quarters of the empire. There was really so much variety and individuality imparted to these imaginary characters that it was very difficult to perceive that the same writer was assuming the guises of William Wastle, Esq., and Dr Ulrick Sternstare, and Philip Kempferhausen, and the Baron Lauerwinkel. ■j- His expressions of opinion on the subject varied according to his mood, but his sober judgment of the matter is on record in his own words : — " My friends in general have been of opinion that he (Wilson) has amused himself and the public too often at my expense ; but, except in one instance, which terminated very ill for me, and in which I had no more concern than the man in the moon, I never discovered any evil design on his part, and thought it all excellent sport. At the same time, I must acknowledge that it was using too much freedom with any author to print his name in full to poems, letters, and essays which he himself never saw. I do not say he has done this, but either he or some one else has done it many a time." This was written in 1832. Of Wilson's own kind feeling to Hogg, see letter of 1833. N 194 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON: Oxford puppy, dancing after the young ladies, and drawing carica- tures of every one who came in contact with hiin." " I dreaded his eye terribly," he says, "and it was not without reason, for he was very fond of playing tricks on me, but always in such a way that it was impossible to lose temper with him. I never parted company with him that my judgment was not entirely jumbled with regard to characters, books, and literary articles of every descrip- tion."* Lockhart continued to keep his mind in the utmost per- plexity for years in all things that related to the Magazine. The Shepherd was naturally anxious to know whose the tremendous articles were that made so much sensation monthly, and having found by experience that he could extract no information out of Sym or Wilson, he would repair to Lockhart to ask him, awaiting his reply with fixed eye and a beating heart: " Then, with his cigar in his mouth, his one leg flung carelessly over the other, and without the symptom of a smile on his face, or one twinkle of mischief in his dark grey eye, he would father the articles on his brother, Captain Lockhart, or Peter Robertson, or Sheriff Cay, or James Wilson, or that queer, fat 'body,' Dr Scott, and sometimes on James and John Ballantyne, and Sam Anderson, and poor Baxter, and away I flew with the wonderful news to my other asso- ciates, and if any remained incredulous, 1 swore the facts down through them ; so that before I left Edinburgh I was accounted the greatest liar that was in it except one."t The simple Shepherd by and by found out that these conspirators had made up their minds to act on O'Doherty's principle, of never denying anything they had not written, or ever acknowledging anything they had. He accordingly thought himself safe in thenceforth signing his name to everything he published. "But as soon," he says, "as the rascals perceived this, they signed my name as fast as I did. They then continued the incomparable Nodes Ambrosiance for the sole purpose of putting all the sentiments into the Shepherd's mouth which they durst not avowedly say themselves, and these, too. often applying to my best friends." | A single instance will show to what lengths this system of decep- tion, for it can be called nothing else, was carried. Li the articles * t fiirJ + Hogg's Memoirs. LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 195 on Leigh Hunt already mentioned, he was accused, among other things, of having pestered his friend Hazlitt to review him in the Edinburgh. Soon after — I find from Leigh Hunt's " Correspond- ence," recently [)ublished — he wrote to Lord Jeffrey the letter given below.* Which of the writers in Blackwood perpetrated this very wicked joke I know not, but its point lay in the fact that Sir J. G. Dalyell, with whose name so great a liberty had been taken, was perhaps of all men then in Edinburgh the one who, as a good Whig, regarded Blackwood's Magazine with most abhoiTence.t A correspondent informs me that he recollects well Sir John coming to him in a state of violent agitation, to show the letter he had just received from Leigh Hunt, enclosing the pretended confession of authorship by himself "Oh, the villainy of these fellows!" ex- claimed the persecuted Baronet. It was in truth a most unscru- pulous trick. But the most elaborate and successful of these mystifications, of all which I suspect the invention must be attributed to Lockhart, was that about Dr Scott of Glasgow, or "the Odontist," as he dubbed him. I am not aware, indeed, of any other instance of this kind of joke being carried out so steadily and with such entire success. The Doctor was a dentist, who practised both in Edin- * "Dear Sir, — I trouble you with this, to say, that since my last I have been made acquainted with the atrocious nonsense written about me in Blackwood' s Magazine, and that nothing can be falser than what is said respecting my having asked and pestered Mr Hazhtt to write an article upon my poem in the Edinburgh Review. I never breathed a syllable to him on the subject, as anybody who knows me would say for me at once, for I am reckoned, if anything, somewhat over fas- tidious and fantastic on such matters. I received last night a letter, signed John Erchom (Graham?) Dalyell, advocate, the author of which tells me at last that he is the writer of the article, and that he did not mean to attack my private character ! He only attacked the bad principles I evinced in my writings. You may conceive by this that this letter is a strange mixture of affected airs and real paltering. I have written this evening to Edinburgh, according to the signature, to ask whether Mr Dalyell (if there is such a person) avows himself the author of the letter. But I am taking up your time with these matters. I merely wished, in the first instance to state what I have mentioned above. — Believe me, my dear Sir, most sincerely yours, "Leigh Hunt. "13 LissoN Grove, 1817." ■f" He had been held up to ridicule, under a most horrible disguise, in the " Chal- dee MS.," for which, however, he had the satisfaction of receiving damages in an action brought against the publisher. 196 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. burgh and Glasgow, but resided chiefly in the latter city, — a fat, bald, queer-looking, and jolly little man, fond of jokes and convivi- ality, but with no more pretensions to literary or poetic skill than a street porter. To his own and his friends' astonishment he was introduced in Blackwood' s Magazine as one of its most valued con- tributors, and as the author of a variety of clever verses. There was no mistake about it, " Dr James Scott, 7 Miller Street, Glas- gow," was a name and address as wel) known as that of Mr Blackwood himself. The ingenious author had contrived to introduce so many of the Doctor's peculiar phrases, and refer- ences to his Saltmarket acquaintances, that the Doctor himself gradually began to believe that the verses were really his own, and when called on to sing one of his songs in company, he assumed the airs of authorship with perfect complacency. The " Odon- tist " became recognised as one of Blackwood's leading characters, and so far was the joke carried, that a volume of his compositions was gravely "TheOdontist." advertised in a list of new works, prefixed to the Magazine, as "in the press."* Even the acute * Had the volume ever appeared, it would have proved a very unique collection. One of the songs attributed to him became so popular, and is really so admirable in its kind, as to be worth reproducing here as a specimen of these curious lyrics. There is no doubt that Mr Lockhart was the author. "Captain Paton's lament." " Touch once more a sober measure, and let punch and tears be shed ; For a prince of good old fellows, that, alack-a-day is dead 1 For a prince of worthy fellows, and a pretty man also, That has left the Saltmarket in sorrow, grief, and woe. Oh, we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo ! " His waistcoat, coat, and breeches were all cut off the same web, Of a beautiful snuff-colour, or a modest genty drab ; The blue stripe in his stocking round his neat slim leg did go, And his ruffles of the cambric fine they were whiter than the snow. Oh, we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo ! LITER A TURE—BLA CKWOOD 'S MA GAZINE. 197 publisher, John Ballantyne, Hogg relates, was so convinced of the Odontist's genius, that he expressed a great desire to be introduced to so remarkable a man, and wished to have the honour of being his publisher. The Doctor's fame went far beyond Edinburgh. Happening to pay a visit to Liverpool, he was immediately welcomed by the literary society of the town as the "glorious Odontist" oi Blackwood's Magazine, and received a complimentary dinner, which he accepted in entire good faith, replying to the toast of the evening with all the formality that became the occasion. But the spirit of fun and mischief that prompted these outrageous jokes did not confine itself to practising them on the outer world. The overflowing satire of the inventors was turned by them even " His hair was curled in order, at the rising of the sun, In comely rows and buckles smart that about his ears did run ; And before there was a toupee that some inches up did grow, And behind there was a long queue that did o'er his shoulders flow. Oh, \ve ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo ! "And whenever we forgathered, he took off his wee three-cockit, And he proffered you his snuff-box, which he drew from his side-pocket ; And on Burdett or Buonaparte he would make a remark or so, And then along the plainstones like a provost he would go. Oh, we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo ! " Now and then upon a Sunday he invited me to dine. On a herring and a mutton-chop, which his maid dressed very fine ; There was also a little Malmsey, and a bottle of Bordeaux, Which between me and the Captain passed nimbly to and fro. Oh, I ne'er shall take pot-luck with Captain Paton no mo I "Or if a bowl was mentioned, the Captain he would ring. And bid Nelly run to the Westport, and a stoup of water bring ; Then would he mix the genuine stuff, as they made it long ago. With Hmes that on his property in Trinidad did grow. Oh, we ne'er shall taste the hke of Captain Paton's punch no mo ! " And then all the time he would discourse so sensible and courteous, Perhaps talking of last sermon he had heard from Dr Porteous, Or some little bit of scandal about Mrs So and So, Which he scarce could credit, having heard the con, but not the pro. Oh, we ne'er shall hear the like of Captain Paton no mo ! "Or when the candles were brought forth, and the night was fairly setting in. He would tell some fine old stories about Minden-field or Detlingen ; How he fought with a French major, and despatched him at a blow. While his blood ran out like water on the soft grass below. Oh, we ne'er shall hear the like of Captain Paton no mo I tgS MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSON: upon one another. In a very clever but rather tedious composition of Lockhart's, called the " Mad Banker of Amsterdam," he pokes his fun at his friends all round. There was a society in Edinburgh called the "Dilettanti" club, of which Wilson was President. They came in for a sketch, and he begins with his friend the President : — "They're pleased to call themselves Tke Dilettanti, The President's the first I chanced to shew 'em ; He writes more malagrugrously than Dante, The City of the Plague J a shocking poem ; But yet he is a spirit light and jaunty, And jocular enough to those who know him To tell the truth, I thmk John Wilson shines More o'er a bowl of punch than in his lines." ' But at last the Captain sickened, and grew worse from day to day. And all missed him in the coffee-room, from which he now stayed away ; On Sabbath, too, the Wee Kirk made a melancholy show. All for wanting of the presence of our venerable beau. Oh, we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo ! "And in spite of all that Cleghorn and Corkindale could do, It was plain, from twenty symptoms, that death was in his view ; So the Captain made his testament, and and submitted to his foe, And we laid him by the Ram's-horn kirk; 'tis the way we all must go. Oh, we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo ! "Join all in chorus, jolly boys, and let punch and tears be shed. For this prince of good old lellows that, alack-a-day, is dead ! For this prince of worthy fellows, and a pretty man also. That has left the Saltmarket in sorrow, grief, and woe ! For it ne'er shall see the like of Cap- tain Paton no mo ! For a complete copy of this lyric, see Blackivood, vol. v. p. 735. Drs Corkindale and Cleghorn. LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 199 It is said that my father chanced to see the proof-sheet by accident before it went to press, and instantly dashed in imme- diately after the above stanza, not a little to the chagrin of the author, the following impromptu lines : — "Then touched I off friend Lockhart (Gibson John), So fond of jabbering about Tieck and Schlegel, Klopstock and Wieland, Kant and Mendelssohn, All high Dutch quacks like Spurzheim or Feinagle ; Him the Chaldee yclept the Scorpion ; The claws but not the pinions of the eagle Are Jack's ; but though I do not mean to flatter, Undoubtedly he has strong powers of satire." The troubles in which the publisher and supporters of the Magazine became involved commenced, as has been seen, with its very first number under the new regi?ne. -The assaults on Coleridge and Hunt might have been overlooked by the Edinburgh public ; but the Chaldee MS., though in reality a joke in comparison, raised a storm of solemn indignation, which it required all the courage and energy of the publisher to bear up against. In a second edition of the Magazine which was very rapidly called for, the obnoxious article was withdrawn,* doubtless much to the dis- appointment of purchasers. For in fact the outcry, which at first seemed to threaten the extinction of the Magazine, was the best possible stimulant to its success. It throve on opposition, and waxed more bold and provoking as the enemy showed more sensitive appreciation of its power. But for some time the pub- lisher's position was no enviable one, as may be gathered from the second of two following letters from Mrs Wilson to her sister in England : — "Edinburgh, December 18, 1817. "I hope you got your last number of the Magazine; I have been so busy working that I have not had time to look at it. The first thing in it, on the ' Pulpit Eloquence of Scotland,' is written by Mr * The following note was prefixed to the November number : — "The editor has learned with regret that an article in the first edition of No. vii., which was intended as a jeu-d' esprit, has been construed so as to give offence to individuals justly en- titled to respect and regard ; he has, on that account, withdrawn it in the second i?.dition, and can only add that, if what has happened could have been anticipated, the article in question certainly never would have appeared." 2 00 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. Lockhart, a young advocate, a friend of Mr Wilson's. I believe there is not much of Mr W.'s in the last number. I think there is something about the lament of Tasso ; that is his. You were right in your conjecture about Mr Hogg's production ; his prose com- positions are not in the happiest style; there will be another of his in the next number, — a letter addressed to C. K. Sharpe, Esq. Another article in it, entitled, ' On the late National Calamity,' is Mr W.'s ; and the one on Mr Alison's pulpit eloquence is written by a son of his. A review of Mandeville is by Mr Lockhart. There is something besides of Mr W.'s; but I don't exactly know what It is. I think it is about Old Masters." "May 20, 1818. " The number that comes out to-day is pronounced a very good one, and I suppose you will soon have it. The articles written by Mr W. are those ' On Truth,' the ' Fudge Family in Paris,' Childe Harold, canto 4th, and Horace Walpole's Letters. The letter to Dr Chalmers is by Mr Lockhart. I am not quite sure if Mr W. will have anything in the next Edinburgh Reviau, but I hope he will, and I will tell you what it is when I know. "You asked if Ensign O'Doherty was a fictitious character; he is, and was created by a Mr Hamilton, a particularly handsome and gentlemanly young man in the army ; he is a brother of Sir William Hamilton, a friend of Mr Wilson's, whom you may have heard me mention. The city of late has been in a state of pleasing commotion owing to a fracas which took place last week between Blackwood and a Mr Douglas from Glasgow, a disgusting, vulgar, conceited ^vriter, whose name was mentioned in one of Nicol Jarvie's letters* in the Magazine, which gave the gentleman such high offence, that after mature deliberation he determined on coming to Edinburgh, and horsewhipping Mr Blackwood. Accord- ingly, about a week since he arrived ; and one day as the worthy bookseller v/as entering his shop, Mr D. followed him, and laid his whip across his shoulder ; and before Mr B. had time to recover from his surprise, Mr D. walked off without leaving his address. Mr B. immediately went out and bought a stick; and, accompanied * Blackwood, January and March i8i8. I I LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 201 by Mr Hogg, went in search of Mr D., whom at last they detected just about to step into a coach on his return to Glasgow. Mr B. immediately attacked him, and beat him as hard as he could, and then permitted him to take his place in the coach, and proceed home, which he did. I have given you a long story, which I fear you cannot feel the least interest in; but as you take the Magazine, you will not be wholly indifferent to the fate of the publisher, whose conduct on the late occasion is thought perfectly correct; the other man everybody thinks has acted like a fool." Nothing was left undone to spread the fame and fear of Black- wood. Fomiidable announcements of forthcoming criticisms were monthly advertised, to keep expectation on the stretch. The very titles of the serial articles indicated uncommon fertility of invention, and a terrible faculty for calling names. There were articles on "The Cockney School of Poetry," on "The Pluckless School of Politics," on "The Gormandizing School of Eloquence." There were letters to literary characters by Timothy Tickler, by Frederick Baron von Lauenvinkel, by Dr Olinthus Petre, T.C.D., by Ensign O'Doherty, by Mordecai Mullion, and a host of others too numerous to mention. The variety and mystification thus produced un- doubtedly gave great additional zest to the writing; and this apparently multitudinous host of contributors danced about the victims of their satire with a vivacity and gleefulness which the public could not but relish even when it condemned. After all, and giving their full weight to the censures which were justly incurred by many of these compositions, there is much truth in the following remarks in a vindication of itself prefixed to the ^Magazine a few years after : — " Eor a series of years, the ^^'higs in Scotland had all the jokes to themselves, they laughed and lashed as they liked; and while all this was the case, did anybody ever hear them say that either laughing or lashing were among the seven deadly sins ? People said at times, no doubt, that Mr Jeffrey was a more gentlemanly AMiig than Mr Brougham; that Sydney Smith grinned more good-humouredly than Sir James Mackintosh, and so forth, but all these were satirists, and, strange to say, they all rejoiced in the name." While I cannot agree with the statement following these remarks, that the only real offence of Blackwood's 202 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. contributors was their being Tories, there is no doubt, I think, that that circumstance greatly aggravated their sins in the eyes of their opponents.* The faults in question were, however, in themselves sufficiently grave, and may now be referred to, it is hoped, without risk of rekindling the old embers. The worst of them undoubtedly, for which even " Dr Peter Morris " could afterwards see no apology, was the attack on the venerable Playtair, which appeared in 1818, in the September number of the Magazine, under the guise of a " Letter to the Rev. Professor Laugner, occasioned by his writing ui the Konigsberg Review : the Baron von Lauerwinkel."t In a previous letter under the signature of " Idoloclastes," a strong remonstrance had been addressed to Dr Chalmers on his support of the Edinburgh Revieiv, in which, with great professions of respect and admiration both for Chalmers and Jeffrey, there was mingled a most offensive strain of rebuke on the subject of infidel principles, which were alleged to be characteristic of the Review. In the pretended letter to Professor Laugner, these charges were re^jeated with still greater violence of language, and combined with the same professions of regret and esteem. The excellent Professor of Natural Philosophy was broadly accused of having turned his back * Insolence and personality have very seldom been altogether awanting in the vigorous youth of journalism, and some of the ablest periodicals that have ever appeared have incurred the most censure in this respect. The Edi7tburgh Review cannot by impartial judges be pronounced to have been immaculate. The Quarterly is open to the same remark ; and Eraser's Magazine, that most philosophic and well-conducted periodical, for some time seemed bent on outdoing the early style of Blackwood, after its older sister had subsided into propriety and self-restraint. f This mischievous composition professed to be a translation from a German periodical (a literary stratagem, by the way, which probably set the example which Mr Carlyle, among others, has turned to such frequent and effective purpose), and was thus introduced : — "The Konigsberg Review, conducted by the late ingenious M. Mundwerk, was a few years ago verj' much admired in Germany by numerous readers, who took delight in seeing infidel and unpatriotic opinions maintained by men of acknowledged wit and talent. Strange as the circumstance may appear, it is nevertheless true that this journal numbered among its supporters several clergymen of the Lutheran Church. One of these was the late celebrated preacher, Hammer- schlag (Dr Chahners was here pointed at), another was Professor Laugner of the University of Konigsberg. The indignation of the zealous and worthy Baron von Lauerwinkel was excited," etc. LITER A rURE—BLA CK WO OD 'S MA GA ZIXE. 203 on the faith which he once preached,* and alUed himself with a band ot unprincipled wits and insidious infidels. The author of both these letters was Mr Lockhart, and they are striking specimens of that unpleasant power wliich led his own familiar friends to attri- bute to him in their allegorical description, the character of the Scorpion. For calm, concentrated sting it would be hard to find six pages to match the Letter of the Baron Lauerwinkel.t The very natural indignation excited by this attack on one of the most amiable men of whom Edinburgh can boast, attained its climax in the publication of a pamphlet, called Hypocrisy unveiled and Calumny detected, in a Review in Blackwood's Magazine. The author wielded a powerful pen, and fixing on Wilson and Lockhart as the special objects of his criticism, accused them both in very unvarnished terms of conduct disgraceful to men of letters and gentlemen. His own style, indeed, was not the most choice, his elaborate periods being thickly strewed with all the harshest epithets to be found in the dictionary. But much of his censure went home to the mark, and he pledged himself, in conclusion, if the subjects of his criticism did not amend their ways, to return to the charge "with less reserve, and more personal eff"ect."J Who the author of this philippic was remained a secret, but there is now no reason to doubt that he was himself a well known member of the legal body. His allusions to Wilson and Lockhart were too * Professor Playfair was parish minister of Liff and Bervie from 1773 to 1782. He be;ame assistant to Professor Fergusson in 1785, and in 1805 resigned the chair of Mathematics for that of Natural Philosophy, which he occupied till his death in 1819. f Much as these letters were to be condemned, however, it was but fair to observe that the example had been shown on the other side. A voluminous and vehement writer, Calvimis, already referred to, had inflicted not less than five pamphlets on the public, addressed to Dr M'Crie and Dr Andrew Thomson on their sinful alliance with Blackwood's Magazine. In thundering sentences, garnished with plentiful texts of Scripture, he calls upon them to "remember the fate of the priest who associated himself with the infidel compilers of the Encyclcpedie," and hopes that no priest m this country is willing to let it be supposed that he receives wages from a till that is replenished by the dissemination of blasphemy. Similar remonstrances and insinu- ations were very frequently levelled against Dr Brewster ; and there can be no doubt that such attacks were calculated to provoke retaliation. + In furtherance of this purpose he announced as preparing for publication "A Letter to the Dean and Faculty of Advocates on the propriety of expelling the Leopard and the Scorpion from that hitherto respectable body." 204 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. pointed to be passed without notice, and both sought redress in the mode then considered necessary for the vindication of the character of gentlemen. The author of the pamplet received these communications as might have been expected, he declined to reveal his identity, but printed the correspondence.* * From the Scotsman, Saturday, October 24, 1818 : — " To the Author 0/ Hypocrisy Unveiled. "Sir, — ^As it is no part of a manly disposition to use insulting epithets to an unknown enemy, who may perhaps have resolved to remain unknown, I shall not, at present, bestow any upon you. So long as you remain concealed you are a nonentity, and any insults offered by me to a person in that situation might probably not be felt to carry with them any degradation to him, and certainly would not be felt as conferring any triumph upon me. It is probable, however, that you will come forward from yoiu concealment, when you feel that you cannot continue in it without the consciousness of cowardice. I therefore request your name and address, that I may send a friend to you to deliver my opinion of your character, and to settle time and place for a meeting, at which I may exact satisfaction from you for the public insults you have offered to me. John Wilson. "53 Queen Street, Friday, Oct. 23, 1818." " To the Author of Hypocrisy Unveiled, " Sir, — I have no wish to apply epithets of insult to you till I know who you are. If you suppose yourself to have any claim to the character of a gentleman, you will take care that I be not long without this knowledge. — I remain. Sir, your obedient servant, J. G. Lockhart. " 23 M.-iiTLAND Street, Thursday, Oct. 22. 1818." " To John Wilson, Esq., Advocate. "Friday, ^-^d October. ' ' Sir, — The note which I understand to have been forwarded to you by my pub- lisher, %\ill have explained why I did not receive your communication till within these few hours, ' ' If you be not a principal conductor or supporter of Blackwood's Magazine, you have no reason for addressing me. If you be not the author or furnisher of materials for an attack on Mr M'Cormick, which you yourself stated to be highly unjustifiable, and of which you denied all knowledge, upon your honour; if you be not the author of a most abusive attack on your friend, Mr Wordsworth ; if you did not, by an un- founded story, prevail with Mr Blackwood's former editors to insert that attack ; if you be not the secret traducer of Mr Pla>-fair, Mr Hazhtt, and Mr Coleridge ; if you be not the wanton and cruel reviler of those gentlemen named in my pamphlet, with whom you had lived in habits of friendship ; if you be not one of the principal vomitories of that calumnious and malignant abuse which has, through the medium of Blackwood's Magazine, been poured out on all that is elevated, worthy, or estim- able ; if you be not the wTiter of one or other of the letters addressed in the name of Z. to Mr Leigh Hunt, and if you do not take shelter under a quotation from Junius, and submit to be publicly stigmatized by him as a coward and a scoundrel,— then The supposed author of " Hj-pocrisy Unveiled." i LITER A TURE—BLA CKIVO OD 'S MA G. / ZINE. 207 When Mr Lockhart found that the author would not reveal himself, he appears to have concerned himself no more about the matter, but to have relieved his feelings by caricaturing all the parties concerned in his friend's literary "Ledger" as the accom- panying pen-and-ink sketch of the supposed author, taken from its pages, will show. "The Leopard" and "The Scorpion," as drawn in the ^'■Ledger," will be found on pages 181-182. The following admirable letter, addressed at this time to my father, by his friend the Rev. Robert Morehead,* seems, in spite of its length, to be worthy of insertion here. I have no doubt it produced a considerable impression on his mind, though at the time his indignation at the charges of the pamphleteer made him rather impatient of remonstrance : — you have nothing to say to me, for I speak only of the writer or writers who have committed these encrmities. But if all or any of these things apply to you, in that case you have lost every claim to the character of a gentleman, and have no right whatsoever to demand that satisfaction which is due only to one who has been unjustly accused. "The cause, besides, in which I have engaged is a public one ; it is that of right feeling against all that is vile, treacherous, and malignant. My vocation is not ended; I have pledged myself to the public to watch your proceedings, and, if occasion shall require, to give a more ample exposition of your conduct and character — to inflict a more signal chastisement on your crimes. This pledge shall be redeemed. " Do not think that I shall be deterred, by any threat, from discharging the duly I have thus imposed on myself, or that I shall be so weak as, by a premature avowal of my name, to deprive myself of the means. " Prove to the satisfaction of the public that the charges which I have made are unfounded, or that they do not apply to you ; or, as you yourself ask of Mr Hunt, — ' Confess that you have done wrong, — make a clean breast of it,— beg pardon of yoiu" God and of your country for the iniquity of your polluted pen, — and the last to add one pang to the secret throbbings of a contrite spirit,' the first to meet your challenge, if then renewed, shall be. Sir, your, etc,, "The Author of Hypocrisy Unveiled." " P.S. — As Mr Lockhart obviously acts in concert with yoiurself, I have made the same answer to him which I now make to you." "f- This estimable man was for many years an Episcopalian clergyman in Edin- burgh. He was presented to the rectory of Easington, Yorkshire, in 1832, and died there in December 1842. Mr Morehead, as may be gathered from the above letter, was a dear friend of my father's, but shortly after this date he became editor of Cotisiahle s Magazine; and it is to be regretted that, "in that lamentable madness of the time which drove high- minded and honourable men from their propriety," my father, by the unscrupulous Imerty of his pen in Black-wood's Magazine, gave offence to Mr Morehead, who, 2o8 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " Sunday Evening. "My dear Wilson, — I trust you wiU forgive me for addressing vou on a subject which has been running in my head all week, and has incapacitated me, I believe, from reading or writing, for when- ever I attempted either, your image, or the image of some other person or thing connected with Blackwood's Magazine, immediately took its station in my brain, and prevented any other idea from obtaining an entrance. " I have frequently thought of writing to you, yet I have always drawn back, from an aversion to appear to be giving advice or intermeddling in an affair with which I have nothing to do, separate from the interest which every one who knows you must take in you. I hear, however, that you have called on me to-day, and I cannot any longer refrain from saying something to you, though perhaps it may be rather incoherent, on the unpleasant circumstances of the last week. That blame must attach to you and your friend Lock- hart for the delinquencies of BlackivoocT s Magazine I am afraid must be admitted ; but even if the blame should not go to the full length of the accusations which are made against you, I have my- self too distinct a conception of the hazards accompanying mys- terious and secret composition, and the temptations which it throws in the way of men of imagination and genius (much inferior to either of yours), that I can conceive, in the heat of writing, your trespassing very much upon the limits of propriety or a due regard for the common courtesies and regulations of social life. As it is impossible, too, for another person to enter into all the feelings justly displeased, WTOte an indignant letter to him, begging that personal allusions should cease as far as he was concerned, and promising that, on his part, he should abstain from any allusion to the Professor in his Magazine. I am happy to be able to say the terms of peace were observed, as their friendship remained unbroken. A notice of Mr Morehead is made a dozen years later in a Nodes, which exhibits my father's real estimate of the author of Dialogues on Natural and Revealed Religion. "Shepherd, I love that man." "North, So do T, James, and so do all that know him personally — his talents, his genius, and, better than both, his truly Christian character, mild and pure." "Shepherd, And also bricht." "North, Yes, bright : • In wit a man — simplicity a child.'" — Nodes, May 1830. LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 209 which may have actuated you on different occasions. I can imagine that you may have done what you are stated to have done, without deserving those imputations which have been thrown upon you. Indeed I cannot, for my own part, think anything very bad of you. You have ahvays appeared to me a person of high and noble character, and I should be very sorry to view you in any other light. I am not at all, however, surprised that torrents of abuse should be thrown upon you, both in private and public, and I cannot say that the world is unjust in this retaliation. " The person who has written the anonymous letter to you does not act perhaps in the most chivalrous manner possible, not to let himself be known; but I rather think he is in the right, and as I am one of those people who are disposed to believe all things, I imagine he is really what he gives himself out to be — a person unconnected with the matters in dispute, and determined, from a sense of justice, to defend what he thinks the cause of violated public tranquillity. " If he had been himself a party, he would have written with more bitterness, and been less disposed to make stupid quotations. All this, however, my dear Wilson, unpleasant as it is at present, may be attended with a very excellent result, if you will allow it to be so. Both you and Lockhart are, I think, designed for much higher things than the game you are playing. I believe that, with the wantonness of youth and conscious power about you, which you do not care much how you exhibit, you are really desirous of doing good; and that you are anxious to root out of the world false sentiments in politics and religion, with a perfect unconcern who may entertain them. This is the best view to take of you ; and in this kind of crusade, you are heedless what shock you may give to individuals, whose feelings yet deserve to be consulted, and with whom the public will, in general, take part. I really think nothing less than a Divine commission, such as Joshua received to extirpate the Canaanites, could justify the way in which you are throwing around you poisoned arrows against those whom you surmise to be infidels. When you go beyond a certain mark, you lose your aim. While with all the eloquence that you can muster, you will never persuade the reasonable part of the nation that the Edmbitrgh o 2IO MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. Review has for its insidious, skulking design to make as many Jacobins and infidels as it can, I suppose the character of that publication is pretty well understood. Nobody takes it up in the notion that they will receive religious instruction from it, or that the writers are very competent to give it; but nobody of sense supposes, whatever slips it may sometimes have made, that its object and secret view is to pull down Christianity; and particularly, no one who knows Mr Playfair conceives that this is one of his darling contemplations and schemes, whatever may be his opinions upon the subject of Revelation, which nobody has any business to rake out. I believe the only slip he is supposed to have committed in the Review, was something on the subject of miracles; and what he says is, I imagine, defensible enough, and reconcilable to a belief in Christianity. Then as to politics, although here, too, there may be various offences, yet I beUeve the general drift of the politics of the Edinburgh Review is felt by the nation to have on the whole a good tendency, If you and your friend persist in writing in Black- wood's Magazine, I exhort you strenuously to make that Magazine what you are capable of making it ; to take the hint which has been given you ; to take warning from the awkward perplexities in which it has involved you, and from which it would be idle to attempt to extricate yourselves entirely, and henceforth to avoid unhandsome personalities. I do not say, spare the Edinburgh Review ; on the contrary, where you find in it any sentiment that you think mili- tating either against the Constitution or Christianity, by all means expose it ; but do not impute motives to the writers wliich you cannot think exist. Your readers will go more thoroughly along with you if you are temperate, and give that Review the credit which it deserves, and speak of its authors rather as men who do not see the whole truth, than as men who are wittingly blind. If you cannot get the regulation of that Magazine into your own hands, but must have your writings coupled with party politics and person- alities, which you yourselves disapprove of, I really think, for your own credit, you should have nothing to do with it ; for there is not a piece of abomination in the Magazine which will not be fathered upon one or other of you ; and neither Christianity nor Toryism is at present in so low a state that there is any necessity to suffer martyrdom." LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZL\E. 2ii The following letter from my father about the same time appears to have been addressed to Mr Morehead, in reference to a suspicion of Mr Macvey Napier having been the author of the pamphlet. It betrays the keenness of his feelings on the subject : — "S3 Queen Street, Half-past Ten, Wednesday, 1817. " My dear Sir, — Your message to me from Mr Napier would have been perfectly satisfactory, even had I had any suspicion that he was the author of the pamphlet. But knowing Mr Napier to be a gentleman and a man of education, I could not have suspected him to be a blackguard and a villain. Had public rumour forced me at any time to ask him if he was the author of that pamphlet, the question would have been accompanied with an ample apology for putting it, for, without that, the question would itself have been an insult. Assure Mr Napier of this, that I am sorry he should have been put under the necessity by disagreeable and stupid rumour of disowning that of which I know his nature to be incap- able. Had I suspected Mr Napier, and yet 'alluded' to him as the object of my suspicion, I should have acted like an idiot and a coward. In a case like this, suspicion is not to be so intimated. Should I ever suspect any man, I will send with privacy a friend to him. He may be a man of some nerve, and if ever he avows himself, he will require them all. My affection and friendship for you never can suffer any abatement. But may I gently say to you, this villainous and lying pamphlet has been read by you with feelings, and has left on your mind an impression, which I did not imagine such a publication could have created in you towards your very attached friend, John Wilson." Not the least of all the ill results of that unhappy letter of the Baron Lauerwinkel was the interruption of the friendly relation between my father and Jeffrey. The latter conveyed his senti- ments on the subject in these manly and honourable terms : — "Craigcrook House, 13M October 1818. " Mv DEAR Sir, — I take the liberty of enclosing a draft for a very considerable sum, which is the remuneration our publisher enables me to make for your valuable contribution to the last 212 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON, number of the Edinburgh Reinew; and though nobody can know better than I do, that nothing was less in your contemplation in writing that article, it is a consequence to which you must resign yourself, as all our other regular contributors have done before you. " And now having acquitted myself of the awkward part of my office with my usual awkwardness, I should proceed to talk to you of further contributions, and, ... to save editorial disquisition on the best style of composition for such a journal, if I had not a still more awkward and far more painful subject to discuss in the first place. " You are said to be a principal writer in, and a great director and active supporter of Blackwood's Edinburs;h Magazine. In the last number of that work there is an attack upon my excellent friend Mr Playfair, in my judgment so unhandsome and uncandid, that I really cannot consent either to ask or accept of favours from any one who is aiding or assisting in such a publication. " I have not the least idea that you had any concern in the com- position of that particular paper, and perhaps I have been mis- informed as to the nature and extent of your connexion with the work in general. But if it be as I supposed, and if you still profess to take the same interest in that Magazine, I do not see that we can possibly co-operate in any other publication, " I have no right certainly, and I am sure I have no intention to rebuke you for any opinions you may entertain, or any views you may have formed of the proper way of expressing them ; but if you think the scope and strain of the paper to which I allude in any degree justifiable, I can only say that your notions differ so widely from mine, that it is better that we should have no occasion to discuss them. To me, I confess, it appears that the imputations it contains are as malignant as they are false ; and having openly applied these epithets to them, whenever I have had occasion to speak on the subject, I flatter myself that I do not violate the courtesy which I unfeignedly wish to observe towards you, or act unsuitably with the regard which I hope always to entertain for you, if I plainly repeat them here, as the grounds of a statement with which no light considerations could have induced me to trouble you. LITERATURE— BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 213 "I say, then, that it \s false that it is one of the principal objects, or any object at all, of the Edinburgh Review to discredit religion, or promote the cause of infidelity. I who have conducted the work for nearly fifteen years should know something of its objects, and I declare to you, upon my honour, that nothing with that tendency has ever been inserted without its being followed with sincere regret both on my part and on that of all who have any permanent connexion with the work. That expressions of a light and indecorous nature have sometimes escaped us in the hurry of composition, and that in exposing the excesses of bigotry and intolerance, a tone of too great levity has been sometimes em- ployed, I am most ready with all humility to acknowledge; but that anything was ever bespoken or written by the regular sup- porters of the work, or admitted, except by inadvertance, with a view to discredit the truth of religion, I most positively deny, and that it is no part of its object to do so, I think must be felt by every one of its candid readers. " In the second place, I say it is false that Mr P. lent his support to the Revietv in order to give credit and currency to its alleged infidel principles. " And, finally, it is false that the writings which he has contri bated to it have had any tendency to support those principles, 01 are intended to counteract the lessons which he once taui^ht from the pulpit" It is much to be regretted that my father's reply to this letter is not extant. What it may have been can only be conjectured. I can have no doubt that he would not attempt to justify the malignant article. But he was not a man to abandon his asso- ciates even when he disagreed with them. He had cast in his lot with Blackwood and its principles, and was resolved to stand by them at all hazards. 214 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. CHAPTER IX. ANN STREET— MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 1820. An eventful life seldom falls to the lot of the man of letters. His vicissitudes and excitements are for the most part confined to an arena in which he figures little before the public gaze. In this sense Wilson's life was uneventful ; but the constitution of his nature, both physical and mental, made it impossible that it should ever become uninteresting or monotonous. It may be said that he threw himself into the very heart of existence, and found in the lowliest things on earth a hidden virtue that made them cease to be vulgar in his eyes. For fundamentally, though that I know is not the general opinion, he was as much a philosopher as a poet, and had that true instinct, that electric rapidity of glance, that enables a man to penetrate through the forms of things to their real meaning and essence. And when free from the bias of passion or prejudice, his judgment was most accurate. Caprice or change in regard to principles, or persons, or tastes, was no part of his character. Faults of temper and intolerance sometimes glared forth, finding utterance, it might be, both violent and unreasonable. Thus his highly-strung nervous organization made him keenly alive to all outward impressions, loud laughter, sudden noises, rudeness, affectation, and those offences against minor morals that are generally regarded with indifference or passing disgust, affected him painfully ; and if but for a short time exposed to any such annoyances, no self-control prevented him from giving expression to his feelings. But such outbursts, whether manifested in spoken or written words, were as summer storms, that leave the air purer and the sky brighter than before. He was, in fact, too large a man ANN STREET. 215 to be unamiable. His natural temper was, in mature life, as it had been in boyhood and youth, sweet and sunny, and, with all his enjoyment of activity and excitement, he never liked any company half so well as that which he found at his own fireside. To that quiet and simple home, in which his happiness was summed up. we now turn for a short time. Towards the end of the winter of 18 19, my father, with his wife and children, now five in number, two boys and three girls,* left / his mother's house, ^^ Queen Street, and set up his household gods 5*^ / in a small and somewhat inconvenient house in Ann Street (No. / 20). This little street, which forms the culminating point of the suburb of Stockbridge, was at that time quite "out of town," and is still a secluded place, overshadowed by the tall houses of Eton Terrace and Clarendon Crescent. In the literary " Ledger," already referred to, which contains all sorts of memoranda in my father's handwriting, there is a page taken up with an estimate of the cost of furniture for dining-room, sitting-room, nursery, servants' room, and kitchen, making up a total of ;^i95, with the triumphant query at the end, in a bold hand, "Could it be less?" Truly, I think not This little entry throws an interesting light on the circumstances of this devoted pair, who, eight years previously, had started in life so differently under the prosperous roof-tree of EUeray. But the limitation of their resources had from the begin- ning brought with it neither regret nor despondency, and now that they were for the first time fairly facing the cares of life, they took up the burden with hope and cheerfulness. My father felt strong in his own powers of work, and his deep affection for his wife and children was a mighty stimulus to exertion. My mother, on the other hand, along with a singular sweetness of disposition, pos- sessed great prudence and force of character ; she entered, as her letters indicate, into all that concerned her husband with wife-like zeal, and her sympathy and counsel were appreciated by him above all else that the world could bestow. In withdrawing from the more fashionable part of Edinburgh, they did not, however, by any means exclude themselves from tlie ' Their names in the order of their ages, were as follows : — ^John, born April 1812; Margaret, July 1813; Mary, August 1814; Blair, April 1816; Jane Emily, January 1817. 2i6 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. pleasures of social intercourse with the world. In Ann Street they found a pleasant little community that made residence there far from distasteful ; the seclusion of the locality made it then, as it seems still to be, rather a favourite quarter with literary men and artists. The old mansion of St Bernard's, the property and dwelling-house of Sir Henry Raeburn (the glory of Scotland's portrait-painters), offered them its hospitality and kindly intercourse. No one can forget how, in the circle of his own family, that digni- fied old gentleman stood, himself a very picture, his fine intellectual countenance lightened by eyes most expressive, whose lambent irlow ^ave to his face that inward look of soul he knew so well to impart to his own unsurpassed portraits. Genius shed its peculiar beauty over his aspect, yet memory loves more than aught else the recollections of the benevolent heart that lent to his manner a grace of kindliness as sincere as it was delightful. The place in Scottish art which he had so long occupied without a fellow was soon to become vacant. But a worthy successor was at that time following his footsteps to fame. Sir John Watson Gordon lived with his father (then Captain, afterwards Admiral Watson) and a pleasant group of brothers and sisters, in the house adjoining that of Professor Wilson, in whom this rising artist found a warm and kind patron. Not a few of his early pictures were painted under the encouragement and advice of his genial friend. Almost the first subject that brought him into prominent comparison with the best English painters of the day was a portrait of my sister, when seven years of age — a beautifully coloured and poetically conceived picture. In 1850 he was elected President of the Royal Scottish Academy, and was shortly after- wards knighted. He died, June i, 1864. Another illustrious name is to be numbered in that coterie of artists. William Allan (who also attained the honour of knighthood and presidentship) was a frequent guest at my father's house. He had not long returned from a residence of some duration in the East. His extended travel and fresh experience of foreign lands, made his society much sought after. He had the advantage of an intimate friendship with Sir Walter Scott, in itself an introduction to intercourse with the best people of the time. Mr Allan was a ANN STREET— MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 217 man whose intelligence, power of observation, quaint humour, gentle and agreeable manners, made him welcome to all. Many were the pleasant reunions that took place in those days under Professor Wilson's roof, where might be seen together Lockhart, Hogg, Gait, Sir William Hamilton, his brother. Captain Thomas Hamilton, Sir Adam Fergusson, Sir Henry Raeburn, Mr Allan, and Watson Gordon. In such meetings as these, it may easily be imagined how the hours would pass, the conversation and merri- ment perhaps continuing till sun-rising. Wilson had now apparently committed himself to literature as his vocation; and when he removed to Ann Street there seemed no great probability of his being soon called to any more definite sphere of exertion. His professional prospects were not much to be calcu- lated on, for, though fitted in some respects to achieve distinction at the bar, he appears never to have seriously contemplated that as an object of ambition. His aspirations were in a very different direction. Though his pursuits and aquirements had been of a very general and eclectic sort, he had given early proof of his love and capacity for philosophic studies. He had not, it is true, made philosophy his special pursuit like his illustrious friend Sir William Hamilton, for poetry and literature divided his allegiance. But the science of mind, and more particularly Moral Philosophy, had for him at all times high attraction. Human nature had been in fact his study par excellence, and when the prospect opened to him of being able to cultivate that study, not merely as a field of analytical skill, but as a means of practically influencing the minds of others with all the authority of academic position, he eagerly grasped at it as an object worthy of his highest ambition. That prize was not to be won without a desperate struggle, to the history of which a few pages must now be devoted. In April 1820, the chair of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh became vacant by the lamented death of Dr Thomas Brown. The contest which ensued has had few parallels even in the history of that University, whilst the patronage lay with the Town-Council, whose members had to be canvassed personally like the voters in a rotten borough. My father announced himself as a candidate in the course of the month, and so did Sir William 2iS MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. Hamilton. Other distinguished men were mentioned as possible competitors, such as Sir James Mackintosh and Mr Malthas ; but it soon became apparent that between these two alone the struggle was to lie. Then came the tug of war. The rivals were intimate personal friends, and between them happily no unpleasant word or thought arose during the time that their respective friends were fighting for and against them, like Greek and Trojan. Both had been brilliant Oxonians; but the one was known to have devoted himself to philosophy, with a singleness of aim and a specialty of power, that seemed to his friends, and certainly not without reason, to throw the pretensions of his rival utterly into the shade. Hap- pily for him, too, he had, as became a philosopher, abstained from any interference in public questions, either openly or in secret; and his retired studious life afforded no possible mark for censure or insinuation even to the most malicious enemy. The other, though reckoned by men well fitted to judge, as a person singularly gifted with philosophic as well as poetic faculty, was better known in the outer world as a daring and brilliant litterateur; one of a band of writers who had excited much admiration, but also much righteous censure, and personally as a somewhat eccentric young man of very athletic and jovial tendencies. How these qualities affected his position as a candidate will speedily appear ; but all other dis- tinctions were lost sight of in the one great fact of political creed. Sir William was a Whig ; Wilson was a Tory. The matter all lay in that. Wilson, too, was not only a Tory, but a Tory of the most unpardonable description ; he was one of the leading hands, if not the editor, of that scandalous publication. Black7vood' s Alagazine, a man therefore who needed no further testimonial of being at least an assassin and a reprobate. He, forsooth, a Professor of Moral Philosophy, a successor of Dugald Stewart ! The thing was mon- strous ; an outrage on decency and common sense. Such, without exaggeration, was the view taken by the Whig side in this contest, and strenuously supported publicly in the columns of the Scotsman,* * A single specimen of the rhetoric used may suffice, being the peroration of a long and angry leading article which appeared immediately before the election. The electors were, in conclusion, thus solemnly adjured : — -"Again we call upon those members of Council who are fathers of families ; who respect the oaths they have taken ; who have some regard for religion, morals, and decency, to read the Chaldee Sir William Hamilton at Oxford —From a sketch by Mr Lockhart. THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 221 and privately in every circle where the name of Blackwood was a name of abomination and of fear. How the proceedings of this election interested my mother may be seen best from her own true womanly feelings expressed without reserve, in a letter to her sister : — " My mind has been anxiously occupied on Mr Wilson's account, by an election in which he has, amongst other literary men, started as a candidate. It is for a Professor's Chair in the University here. The Professorship of Moral Philosophy is the situation, which became vacant about six weeks ago, by the death of Dr Brown. The gift of the Chair is in the power of the Magistrates and Town- Council, and I have no doubt there will be a great struggle between the two political parties here. The Whigs hitherto have had every- thing their own way ; and the late Professor was one, as well as the well-known Dugald Stewart, who resigned the situation trom bad health, and who has it in his power to resume lecturing if he chooses, and which I fear he will do from party spirit, if he thinks there is any chance of Mr Wilson's success. Mr Wilson has been assured of all the support that Government can give him, and Sir Walter Scott has been particularly kind in his exertions for his success. The testimonials which he has received from the Pro- fessors at Glasgow as to his powers for such a situation, are most gratifying and flattering ; indeed, his prospects are at present favourable ; but I will not allow myself to be sanguine, though I must say that if Mr Wilson was to get such an honourable situ- ation, it would indeed be truly gratifying to me ; and I think he is MS.; the pilgrimage to the ' Kirk of Shotts;' the attacks on Messrs Wordsworth, Pringle, Dunbar, Coleridge, and others ; to weigh and consider the spirit and char- acter of many other articles in the Magazine, which are either written by Mr Wilson, or published under his auspices ; and if they can possibly excuse him as a private individual, we still put it to them how they can justify it to their conscience, their country, and their God, to select him as the man to fill the chair of Moral Philosophy, and to confide to him the taste, the morals, and the characters of the rising genera- tion." When the election was over, the public were informed, through the same channel, that the conduct of the electors had "stamped indelible disgrace on the Town- Council," and that though it was a prevalent opinion that they were already as low as they could be in the estimation of their fellow-citizens, the proceedings of that day had shown this conclusion to be erroneous, and demonstrated that there is in the Icnvcst depth a lower still. 22 2 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. well calculated to fill, with respectability and credit, such a Chair. All the principal men here on the Government side are most anxious for his success ; and even if he should be disappointed, the hand- some mnnner in which they have come forward, may be as useful to him at some future time as it is satisfactory at the present. The emolument of the situation in itself is nothing, but depends on the number of students who may attend the class. Dr Brown had about a thousand a year from it. He was brother of the Miss Brown whom you may remember seeing here, and the authoress of Lays of Affection. " If I have anything to say with regard to Mr Wilson's affairs, I will let you know soon, but the matter will not be ultimately decided for some time ; his opponents at present are few, and the most formidable is Sir Wiliam Hamilton, who is not a Government man, but others may start more appalling. Malthus is one talked of, and Sir James Mackintosh. The latter is an elderly man, who ranks very high in the literary world, and a Whig." This letter is dated 29th April 1820. She writes again in July : " I know that you take an interest in all our concerns, or 1 should not again bore you with the old story of the election, which, when I last wrote to you, I thought was concluded ; indeed, the report that Dugald Stewart meant to resume his lectures, came from such good authority that Mr Wilson set off immediately to Peebles to recover his fatigue. He was no sooner gone than he was sent for back again ; for the very next day Dugald Stewart sent in his resignation, and the canvass began instantly in the most determined manner. You can form no idea with what warmth it is still going on, and the Whigs are perfectly mad. The matter is to be decided next Wednesday, and as yet Mr Wilson has greatly the majority of votes, and I trust will continue to have them, and that his friends will prove stanch. They have been uncommonly active indeed in his behalf. Sir Walter Scott in particular, who says there are greater exertions making by the Whigs now than they ever made in any political contest in Scotland. The abuse lavished upon Mr Wilson by them is most intemperate ; his greatest crime is that he is a contributor to Blackwood's Afagazine, that notoriously Tory journal. But I trust all will end well. I shall not write again till the 19th, when our suspense will be at an end." THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAH<. 2?3 Hostility on grounds purely political would have been, in the singular state of feeling which then prevailed, more or less excus- able. But as the contest deepened, my father's prospects of success grew stronger, the opposition took a form more malignant. When it was found useless to gainsay his mental qualifications for the office, or to excite odium on the ground of his literary offences, the attack was directed against his moral character ; and it was broadly insinuated that this candidate for the Chair of Ethics was himself a man of more than doubtful morahty; that he was in fact, not merely a "reveller" and a "blasphemer," but a bad husband, a bad father, a person not fit to be trusted as a teacher of youth. These cruel charges touched him to the quick. It is difficult now to realize that they could have required refutation ; but so far, it appears, did the strength of party bitterness carry men in these angry days. My father found it necessary, therefore, to adduce " testimonials " to his moral character, as well as to his intellectual acquirements. How painfully he felt these malicious attacks may be judged from the following letter to his friend the Rev. John Fleming, of Rayrig, Windermere : its manly spirit and noble tone under circumstances so trying to the temper, are worthy of remark:^ "S3 Queen Street, Edinburgh July 2d. " My dear Sir, — I owe you many thanks for your most kind and friendly letter, which I laid before the electors, along with many others from persons of whose good opinions I have reason to be proud. The day of election is at last fixed, after many strange delays, all contrived by my opponents, who have struggled to obtain time, during which they contrived to calumniate me with a virulence never exceeded and seldom equalled. The election will take place upon Wednesday the 19th of July, and the contest lies between Sir William Hamilton, Bart., a barrister here, and myself; other four candidates being supposed to have little or no chance of success. I am, unfortunately, opposed by all the Whig influence in Scot- land ; but on the other hand, I have the most strenuous support of Government, as far as their influence can be legitimately exercised, and of many of the most distinguished independent men in Scot- 2 24 • MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. land. My friends are all sanguine ; many of them confident ; and I myself entertain strong, and I think well-grounded, hopes of suc- cess. My enemies have attacked my private character at all points, and within these few days, have not scrupled to circulate reports that I am a bad husband and a bad father. I confess that this has affected me greatly ; as, whatever my faults or errors may have been, it is true as holy writ that I do tenderly love my wife and children, and would willingly lay down my life for their sakes. I need not say that such base insinuations have roused the indigna- tion of my friends ; but thougii calumny is in general ultimately defeated, it often gains its ends for the time being; and in this case it is likely to operate to my disadvantage with some of the electors whose minds are not yet made up. Now, you, my dear Sir, married me to one of the most sinless and inoffensive of human beings, whom not to love would indeed prove me to be a wretch without a soul, or a heart, or a mind, and to treat whom otherwise than kindly and tenderly would be an outrage against nature. God has blessed me with six innocent children, for whom I pray every night; and all my earthly happiness is in the bosom of my family. But to you I need say no more on such a subject. As an answer to all such calumnies, I fear not that my future life will be satis- factory; but, meanwhile, you will be doing me another friendly office by writing to me another letter, containing your sentiments of me as a man, — such a letter as you would wish to address to a friend who has ever loved and respected you, on understanding that he has been basely, falsely, and cruelly calumniated. The electors are satisfied with my talents, and even my enemies have ceased now to depreciate them ; but the attack is now made on my moral character, and they are striving to injure me in the public estima- tion by charges which, at the same time, cannot, in spite of their falsehoood, fail to give me indescribable pain. — I am, my dear Sir, ever yours affectionately, John Wilson." Mr Fleming's reply is not extant, but the answer to a similar request addressed to Mrs Grant of Laggan may be given as a curiosity in literature, being, it is to be hoped, the last specimen that will be seen of such a testimonial to any candidate for a pro- fessorship. My father wrote to ISIrs Grant as follows : — THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 225 "Sunday Afternoon. " My dear Madam, — During the course of the canvass in which I have for some time past been engaged, I am sorry to know that many calumnies have been industriously circulated against my private character. Among others, it has lately been insinuated that I am a bad husband, a bad father, and in short, in all respects, a bad family man. I believe that I may with perfect confidence assert, that, whatever may be my faults or sins, want of affection for my wife and children, my mother, sisters, and brothers, is not of the number. My whole happiness in life is centred in my family, whom God in his infinite goodness has hitherto preserved to me in their beauty, their simplicity, and innocence. I am more at home than perhaps any other married man in Edinburgh ; nor is there on earth a human being who feels more profoundly and gratefully the blessedness and sanctity of domestic life. This, my dear madam, must be your conviction; and you would now be conferring upon me a singular favour, by expressing to me in such a letter as I could show to my friends in Council, of whom I have many, your sentiments with respect to me and my character. Your own pure and lofty character will be a warrant of the truth of what you write, and a hundred anonymous slanders will fall before the weight of your favourable opinion. I would not write to you thus, if I were conscious of having done anything which might forfeit your esteem ; but whatever may be thought of my talents or of my poetical genius, neither of which I have ever wished to hear overrated, I have no doubt that I am entitled to the character of a virtuous man in the relations of private lif-. — I am, my dear madam, yours, with true respect, John Wilson." Mrs Grant thus replied : — "I have known your family for several years intimately; indeed, through intermediate friends, have known much of you from your very childhood ; and in the glow of youth, high spirits, and un- clouded prosperity, always understood you to be a person of amiable and generous feelings and upright intentions. Since you married, I have known more of you, and of the excellent person to p 2 26 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSO.V. whom you owe no common portion of connubial felicity; and I always believed her to be the tranquil and happy wife of a fond and faithful husband, domestic in his habits, devoted to his chil- dren, and peculiarly beloved by his brothers and sisters, and his respectable and venerated parent. Often have I heard your sisters talk with the warmest affection of you, and praise you, in particular, for your fond and unremitted attention to your wife ; and, more- over, remark how quiet and domestic the tenor of your life has been since you left their family, and what particular delight you took in that very fine family of children, with which God has blessed you. If you were, indeed, capable of neglecting or under- valuing such a wife and such children, no censure could be too severe for such conduct. But in making an attack of that nature, your enemies have mistaken their point, as your domestic character may be called your strong ground, where you are certainly invul- nerable as far as ever I could understand or hear. People's tastes and opinions may differ in regard to talents and acquirements, but as to domestic duties and kind affections, there can be but one opinion among those whose opinion is ot any value." A still higher authority came forward in vindication of his char- acter. The following letter was addressed to the Lord Provost by Sir Walter Scott :— "Edinburgh, 8//4 July 1820. " My Lord Provost, — Some unfavourable reports having been circulated with great industry respecting the character of John Wilson, Esq., at present a candidate for the Chair 01 Moral Philo- sophy, now vacant in this University, I use the freedom to address your Lordship in a subject interesting to me, alike from personal reo-ard to Mr Wilson, and from the high importance which, in common with every friend to this city, I must necessarily attach to the present object of his ambition. " Mr Wilson has already produced to your Lordship such testi- monials of his successful studies, and of his good morals, as have seldom been offered on a like occasion. They comprehend a history of his life, public and private, from his early youth down to this day, and subscribed by men whose honour and good faith THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 227 cannot be called into question ; and who, besides, are too mm h unconnected with each other to make it possible would or could unite their false testimonies, for the purpose of palming an unworthy candidate upon the electors to this important office. For my own part, whose evidence in behalf of Mr Wilson is to be found among certificates granted by many persons more capable of estimating his worth and talents, I can only say that T should have conceived myself guilty of a very great crime, had I been capable of recom- mending to the Moral Philosophy Chair, a scoffer at religion, or a libertine in morals. But Mr Wilson has still further, and if possible, more strong evidence in favour of his character, since he may appeal to every line in those works which he has given to the public, and which are at once monuments of his genius, and records of his deep sense of devotion and high tone of morality. He must have, indeed, been a most accomplished hypocrite (and I have not heard that hypocrisy has ever been imputed to Mr Wilson) who could plead with such force and enthusiasm the cause of v itue and religion, while he was privately turning the one into ridicule, and transgressing the dictates of the other. Permit me to say, my Lord, that with the power of appealing to the labours of his life on the one hand, and to the united testimony of so many friends of respectability on the other, Mr Wilson seems well entitled to despise the petty scandal which, if not altogether invented, must at least have been strongly exaggerated and distorted, either by those who felt themselves at liberty to violate the confidence of private society by first circulating such stories, or in their subse- quent progress from tongue to tongue. Indeed, if the general tenor of a man's life and of his writings cannot be appealed to as sufficient contradiction of this species of anonymous slander, the character of the best and wisest man must stand at the mercy of every tale-bearer who chooses to work up a serious charge out of what may be incautiously said in the general license of a convivial meeting. I believe, my Lord, there are very few men, and those highly favoured both by temperament and circumstances, or else entirely sequestered from the world, who have not at some period of their life been surprised both into words and actions, for which in their cooler and wiser moments they have been both sorry and 2 28 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON: ashamed. The contagion of bad example, the removal of the ordmary restraints of society, must, while men continue fallible, be admitted as some apology for such acts of folly. But I trust, that in judging and weighing the character of a candidate, otherwise qualified to execute an important trust, the public will never be deprived of his services by imposing upon him the impossible task of showing that he has been, at all times and moments of his life, as wise, cautious, and temperate as he is in his general habits, and his ordinary walk through the world. " I have only to add, that supposing it possible that malice might have some slight ground for some of the stories which have been circulated, I am positive, from Mr Wilson's own declaration, and that of those who best know him, that he is altogether incapable either of composing parodies on Scripture, of being a member of any association for forwarding infidelity or profaneness, or affording countenance otherwise to the various attacks which have been made against Christianity. To my own certain knowledge he has, on the contrary, been in the habit of actively exerting his strong powers, and that very recently, in the energetic defence of those doctrines which he has been misrepresented as selecting for the subject of ridicule. " I must apologize to your Lordship for intruding on your time such a long letter, which, after all, contains little but what must have occurred to every one of the honourable and worthy members of the elective body. If I am anxious for Mr Wilson's success on the present occasion, it is because I am desirous to see his high talents and powers of elocution engaged in the important task of teaching that philosophy which is allied to and founded upon religion and virtue, — I have the honour, etc., "Walter Scott." The day of success at last arrived ; and Mrs Wilson thus com- municates the joyful news to her sister : — " I am sure you will rejoice to hear that Mr Wilson was yesterday elected Professor of Moral Philosophy, and that in spite of all the machinations of his enemies, the Whigs. He had twenty-one votes out of thirty, — a majority of twelve, which out of so small a number THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 229 is pretty considerable. Poor ' Billy Balmer ' took such an interest in the thing that he went yesterday morning and stayed near the scene of action till it was all over, and then came puffing down with a face of delight to tell me that ' Master was ahead a good deal.'" A few days later she writes in a strain of high triumph. Like a good and brave wife she regards her husband's enemies as hers, and under the summary designation of Whigs they come in for a proper share of her notice ; — "Ann Street, July 27, 1820. " My dear Mary, — The want of a decent sheet of paper shall not deter me from immediately thanking you for your and James's kind congratulations on our success in the late canvass, which, thank Heaven, is at last at an end, after a most severe struggle, in which I flatter myself Mr Wilson has conducted himself with a forbearance and a magnanimity worthy a saint, and which had he been a Catholic he would have been canonized for. The pertin- acity of his enemies was unprecedented, and I suppose they have not done with him yet ; but the Tories have been triumphant, and I care not a straw for the impotent attempts of the scum of the defeated Whigs. I must say I chuckle at the downfall of the Whigs, whose meanness and wickedness I could not give you any idea of were I to write a ream of paper in the cause. In the number of Blackwood's Magazifie last published they got a rap on the knuckles, just as hints as to what they may expect in future, if they persevere in their abuse.* . . . " Mr W. is very well, but as thin as a rat, and no wonder ; for the last four months he has had no rest for the sole of his foot. He is now as busy as possible studying. His enemies have given * Here follow sketches of some of Mr Wilson's enemies and friends, alluded to in the Magazine, drawn in lively colours, from which we can only find room for that of "the Odontist :" — "The reputed author of the ' Testttnonium' is a good-natured dentist, who lives in Glasgow, whose name is James Scott, and who is the only Scotchman I know, with a very few exceptions, that can understand or relish a joke, and all the jeux-d' esprit in Blackwood's Magazine he enjoys exceedingly, though, poor man, he could not write a line if his salvation depended upon it. ... ' The lurist,' who coined the rhymes in praise of Blackwood, is one of the great lawyers here, a Mr Cranstoun." 230 MEMOIR OF JOHN' WILSOyf. him little time to prepare his lectures — one hundred and twenty in number. The class meets the beginning of November, and he has to lecture an hour every day till April. But for the detestable Whigs the thing might have been settled four months ago, and he would have had ample time for his preparations." The proceedings at the election need not further be dwelt on. An attempt to rescind the vote at a subsequent meeting ot Council was ignominiously defeated. The principal figure in that scene is a certain Deacon Paterson, who appears for once on the stage of history, armed with a "green bag," the contents of which were to annihilate the new Professor's reputation and quash the election, T5ut the Deacon and his bag were very speedily disposed of, an.l forthwith disappeared into oblivion, in the midst of a hearty chorus of hisses. My father lost no time in addressing himself to his important labours, and applied in all quarters, where help was to be relied on, for advice and assistance in collecting materials to guide him in the preparation of his lectures. Three days after the election he writes to his friend, Mr John Smith, the Glasgow publisher : — "53 Queen Street, July 22. My dear Sir, — Many thanks for your very kind letter. The contest was, you know, of a most savage nature, but I never feared for the result. A protest was given in by the defeated party, but that means nothing, and I will be Professor to my dying day. " It is quite impossible for me to visit you at Dunoon, however delightful it would be. My labours are not yet commenced, but they must be incessant and severe ; and I do not intend to leave Edinburgh for one single day till after I have finished the course of Lectures. Nothing but perseverance and industry can bring me even respectably through my toils, and they shall not be wanting. "What works do you know of on Natural Theology? Ask Wardlaw. " In short, the next month is to be passed by in reading and thinking alone, and all information you can communicate about books and men will be acceptable." On the 3d of August he again \M:ote to Mr Smith : — THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 231 "My dear Sir, — All is now fixed respecting my election, verbally as well as virtually. The Minute of Election is to be read, so says an old and obsolete law, twice in Council, and Deacon Paterson, as you probably know, gave notice on the 19th, that he would move to rescind the election. Accordingly, on the first reading of the minute (Wednesday following election), he rose and declared his intention of opening a bagful of charges against me, which, he said, would cause my friends to rescind the election. This he tried to do yesterday, but my friends would not suffer his green bag to be opened. On this he made a long prepared speech, full of all manner of calumnies against me, during which he was repeatedly called to order even by some of my opponents. At last, a vote of censure upon him was proposed and carried by twenty-one to six. On offering to apologize, this censure was withdrawn, and he did apologize. The vote was then put, 'rescind or adhere,' and carried ' adhere ' by twenty-one to six, so that all is settled. The sole object, apparently, in all these proceedings has been to annoy me, my friends and supporters, and to give vent to the wrath of party feeling. " I am anxious to know if you can get me Mylne's* notes. It is with no view, I need hardly say, of using anything of his, but merely of seeing his course of discussion. " I am both able and willing to write my own lectures, every word ; but before I begin to do so, I am anxious to have before me a vista of my labours, and this might be aided by a sight of his or any other lectures. But all this is confidential, for my enemies are numerous and ready, and will do all they can to injure me in all things. But they may bark and growl, for it will be to no purpose." The successor of Dugald Stewart was certain to have all eyes upon him, and the circumstances of the election made him feel all the more imperiously the need of acquitting himself well in a place that had been filled by men so famous ; above all merely personal considerations, too, he felt, with almost oppressive anxiety, the sacredness of the trust that had been committed to him as a teacher of that science which embraces all the higher truths and * Professor of Moral Philosophy in Glasgow, under whom he had studied in 1801. 232 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. precepts which the light of reason can make known. He accord- ingly set about his preparations with his usual energy, and for the brief period that intervened before the opening of the session in November, appears to have worked incessantly. His portrait in his study is thus playfully sketched by my mother : — " Mr Wilson is as busy studying as possible, indeed he has little time before him for his great task ; he says it will take him one month at least to make out a catalogue of the books he has to read and consult. I am perfectly appalled when I go into the dining-room and see all the folios, quartos, and duodecimos with which it is literally filled, and the poor culprit himself sitting in the midst, with a beard as long and red as an adult carrot, for he has not shaved for a fort- night." Of all the friends to whom he applied for counsel in this time of anxiety, there was none on whom he so implicitly relied, or who was so able to assist him, as Alexander Blair. To him he un- bosomed himself in all the confidence of friendship, and in several long and elaborate letters — too long to be given entire — entered minutely into his plans for the course, asking for advice and sug- gestions with the eagerness and humility of a pupil to his master. He gives a list of the books he has got, and asks his friend to tell him what others he should have ; what he thinks of this and that theory ; how many lectures there should be on this topic and on that. He sketches his own plan ; how he is to commence with some attractive and eloquent introductory lectures " of a popular though philosophical kind," so as to make a good impression at first on his students, and also on the public. Here he purposes to give eight or ten lectures on the moral systems of ancient Greece which Sir Walter Scott approves of; and which he hopes Blair will also approve of. "The subject is a fine one, and not difiicult to write on. These lectures, it might be hoped, would give great pleasure."* Then will commence his own course in good earnest- six or more lectures on the physical nature of man ; then twelve more, "though for no cause known," on the intellectual powers. * That anticipation was correct. No part of the course, I am informed, was more valued by his students. His lecture on Socrates, in particular, was considered one of his masterpieces in eloquence and pathos. THE MORAL PHlLOSOrHy CII.l/R. 233 On this he wishes to have Blair's opinion, for at present he sees nothing for it but to tread in the steps of Reid and Stewart;" "which to avoid, would be of great importance." "Surely," he sa3^s, " we may contrive to write with more spirit and effect than either of them ; with less formality, less caution ; for Stewart seems terrified to place one foot before another." Then might come some lectures on taste and genius before coming to the moral being. " I believe something is always said of them ; and perhaps, in six lectures, something eloquent and pleasing might be made out." Let Blair consider the subject. That brings us up to forty lectures. Then comes the moral nature, the affections, and conscience, or "whatever name that faculty may be called." Here seems fine ground for descriptions of the operations of the passions and affec- tions, and all concerned with them. That requires twelve lectures at least ; " indeed that is too few, though, perhaps, all that could be afforded." Then comes the Will and all its problems, requiring at least six lectures. " But here I am also in the dark." One more lecture, on man's spiritual nature, gives us fifty-eight in all. The rest of the course will embrace fifty lectures respecting the duties of the human being. "I would fain hope that something tlifferent from the common metaphysical lectures will produce itself out of this plan." He will read on, and " attend most religiously to the suggestions" of his friend. Let his friend meantime consider everything, and remember how short the time is ; and that unless he does great things for him, and work with him, the Professor is lost. " I am never out of the house," he adds, " and may not be till winter." He is very unwell, and has just got out of bed ; "but the relief that you will certainly be here at the time I fixed, and that you will certainly get me through, has enabled me to rise." So the letter ends that day with a "God bless you!" and the next begins with a recommendation to Blair to read Stewart's argument against the Edinburgh Reviewer's assertion, that the study of Mental Philosophy has produced nothing, and imparted no power. He thinks " that both Jeffrey and Stewart are wrong, probably, however, Stewart most so;" but Blair must examine it, "for it is a subject on which you could at once see the truth." Let him also see what Stewart says on the origin of knowledge, " which seems 234 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. worth reading;" "indeed," he adds, "these essays, though, I beUeve, not generally so highly thought of, seem to me to be the best of all Stewart's writings. But I am a miserable judge." * He then goes on with the sketch of the course. " Man's relations to God — Natural Theology, will require say eight lectures. Then his relations to man, and first the natural relations, say twelve lectures; then the relations of Adoption and Institution, not less than fifteen; this department to embrace discussions about Govern- ment, Punishments, and Poor-laws. This gives us thirty-three lectures, leaving seventeen for the discussion of Virtues and Vices, the different Schemes of moral approbation, and other important questions ; little enough space." These make up in all one hun- dred and eight lectures, which he thinks will be about the number required. " I have got notes," he says, " of Stewart's lectures, but they are dull ; they are but feeble shadows of his published works, on which he bestowed incredible pains." He inquires about Mylne's lectures. " I believe he followed the French, for he hated Reid. But though an acute man, I cannot think he had any wisdom ; he was continually nibbling at the shoe-latchets of the mighty." He again recurs to Stewart's Essays, which Blair is to read and consider, "but only in the conviction that it is necessary for us, which it seems to be. The truth is, that metaphysics must not be discarded entirely, for my enemies will give out that I discard them because I do not understand them. I want, on the contrary, in the midst of my popular views, and in general, to show frequently a metaphysical power, of which, perhaps, Stewart himself does not possess any very extraordinary share. In the first lecture on the Physical Being of Man this must be kept in view." This letter is dated August 7 th, so that it would appear that already, in the course of a fortnight, the Professor-elect had gone pretty deep into his subject, and even got the length of having a complete outline of his proposed course nearly matured. His good * This is one of many illustrations of the Professor's genuine humility. The egotism and self-complacency of Christopher North were as ideal as that personage himself. He appears in truth to have been, in metaphysics as in literature, a most acute critic ; and some papers by him in Blackwood on Berkeley's Philosophy, were, I believe, referred to by Sir William Hamilton as admirable specimens of meta- physical discussion. THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 235 friend Blair was not found wanting in this crisis, and appears to have faithfully complied with his wishes, sending a regular series of letters, embodying, in the form of answers and suggestions, the results of his profound and varied study of philosophy, ancient and modern. Of these letters I have no specimen to give ; but there is another of my father's sufficiently interesting to be quoted entire. He is at this time apparently (for it is without date) far advanced in his preparations, and has reached that part of his course where the inquiry passed from the region of morals into that of religion. " My dearest Blair, — I would fain hope that your useful and enabling letters do not interfere too much with your own pursuits, whatever these may be. The morning that brings me a legible sibylline leaf, is generally followed by a more quiet-minded day. " I wish you to send me two or three letters, if possible, on that division of the passions regarding religion. It is imperfectly done, and altogether the whole subject of Natural Theology and our duties to the Deity is heavy. However, I have remedied that in some measure, and will do so still more this session. What I direct your attention to is the History of Idolatry. Some views of its dreadful, beautiful, reverent, voluptuous character and kind ; and some fine things in the mythological system of the Greeks, in as far as feeling, passion, or imagination were concerned. Every- thing historical and applied to nations gives a lecture instant effect. Whatever be the true history of all idolatry (Bryant's or others), still the mind operated strongly, and there was not a passive trans- mission. The impersonalizing of imagination might be expatiated on here, for it was only alluded to in this respect in the Lectures on Imagination. I wish to see stated an opinion as to the power of religion in the ancient world, i.e., in Egypt and Greece, among men in general. Something of the same kind, whatever it was, must have existed and still must exist in Christian countries among the ordinary people, especially in ignorant and bigoted forms of the taith. The image-worship of Catholics is, I presume, susceptible of the holiest emotions of an abstract piety ; certainly of the tenderest of a human religion, and in grosser and narrower minds, of almost every thought that formed the faith of an ancient heathen. Many saints, intercessors, priests, etc., I mean no abuse 2:; 6 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. of the Catholic faith, for I regard the doctrines of penitence and absolution and confession as moral doctrines, and I wish you would so consider them in an instructive letter. The burden of guilt is fatal, and relief from it may often restore a human soul to virtue. Confession to a friend, to one's own soul, to an elder brother, to a father, to a holy, old, white-haired man (in short, the best view of it), is surely a moral thing, and, as such, ought to be described. Our religious feelings, when justly accordant with the best faith, may be opposite, but true : the simple, austere worship of a Presbyterian, and the richer one of an Episcopalian, and the still more pompous sanctities of Popery. There are deep foundations, and wide ones too, in the soul, on which manifold religions may be all established in truth. We are now speaking not on the question of bestness, but as to fact. Surely the astronomer may worship God in the stars and the manifest temple of heaven, as well as a Scotch elder in a worm-eaten pew, in an ugly kirk of an oblong form, sixty by forty feet ; yet the elder is a true man and pure. Sacraments in glorious cathedrals, or upon a little green hillside, which I myself have seen, but cannot describe, as you could do, who have never seen it;* and, above all, funerals; the English service so affecting and sublime, and the Scotch service, silent, wordless, bare, and desolate — dust to dust in the speechless, formless sorrow of a soul. In that endless emanation of feelings, how can reason presume to dictate any one paramount rule to be observed ? No. But when by various causes in any nation one tendency runs the one way, then the heart of that nation runs in that channel ; all its most holy aspirations join there, and there the sanctity of walls consecrated by the bishops of God, and the sanctity of walls consecrated by no set forms of words, but by the dedication of the place to regular and severe piety, — as in England, the one ; in Scotland, the other, t In Scotland, people on week- days walk hatted into churches. Is that, to your mind, an allow- able thing? I have seen it done by very religious old men, and * He had, however, if I am not mistaken, described such a scene with exquisite fidelity, in Peter's Letters, vol. iii. p. 75. f This subject is beautifully treated by him in the first number of the "Dies Boreales." THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 237 not harsh or sullen. To take off their hats would, I think, be reckoned by many a wrong action. This, I conceive, is allowing the inferior motive to prevail over the superior. For they remember the idolatrous practices of the papists whom John Knox overthrew, and rather than resemble them in any degree, they violate the religio loci, which is, in the case, this over belief in God. This may seern a trifling concern to you, but it hurts me. " In the above you will probably see what I want, and perhaps other points may occur to yourself. With respect to metaphysics, do not fear on any subject to write, provided a conclusion is arrived at. No letter of yours, if filled, can be otherwise than most useful to me. That metaphysical point to which you referred in one of your letters lately, namely, the pure and awful idea of sanctity and reverence to God, which is probably only an extension of a human feeling, is exactly fit for a letter. There is a book called the Divine Analog]', by a Bishop Brown, that I do not understand, on this subject. I think you have seen it ; and Copleston, I think, touches on it. I intend to put such pieces of the lectures on the Duties to God, as are good, into this part, so that any metaphysical or otherwise important thoughts on our religious emotions or thoughts will be useful. All human emotion towards human beings is fluctuating, and made up of opposite ingredients, even towards our earthly father : towards God, unmingled and one, and this unmingledness and oneness is in truth a new emotion; it exists nowhere else. Men's conduct seldom shows this ; but it is in the soul of many, most men. I once saw, in a dream, a most beautiful flower, in a wide bed of flowers, all of which were beautiful. But this one flower was especially before my soul for a while, as I advanced towards the place where they all were growing. Its character became more and more transcendent as I approached, and the one large flower of which it consisted was lifted up con- siderably above the rest. I then saw that it was Liglit, a prismatic globe, quite steady, and burning with a purity and sweetness, and almost an affectionate spirit of beauty, as if it were alive. I never thought of touching it, although still I thought it a flower that was growing ; and I heard a kind of sound, faint and dim, as the echo of musical glasses, that seemed to proceed from the flower of light, 3-^8 MEMOIR OF JOHN- IV/LSO.V. and pervade the whole bank with low, spiritual music. On trying to remember its appearance and essential beauty more distinctly, I am unable even to reconceive to myself what it was, whether alto- gether different from the other flowers, or of some perfectly glorious representation of them all; not the queen of flowers, but the star of flowers, or flower-star. Now, as I did not, I presume, see this shining, silent, prismatic, vegetable creature, I myself created it, and it was 'the same, but, ah! how different' of the imagination, mingling light with leaf, stones with roses, decaying with undecay- ing, heaven with earth, and eternity with time. Yet the product, nothing startling, or like a phenomenon that urged to inquiry. What is this ? but beheld in perfect acquiescence in its existence as a thing intensely and delightfully beautiful ; but in whose per- ception and emotion, of whose earthly and heavenly beauty, my beholding spirit was satisfied, oh ! far more than satisfied, so purer than dew or light of this earth ; yet as certainly and permanently existing as myself existed, or the common flowers, themselves most fair, that lay, a usual spring assemblage in a garden, where human hands worked, and mortal beings walked, among the umbrage of perishable trees ! Perhaps we see and feel thus in heaven, and even the Alexander Blair whom I loved well on earth, may be thus proportionally loved by me in another life. — Yours for ever, "J. W." Among other friends to whom he resorted for advice at this time, was his well-beloved teacher. Professor Jardine. The judicious "Hints" of the old man are given with characteristic method and kindliness, but scarcely call for publication here. So far as the order of the course was concerned, my father preferred to follow his own plan, as sketched in his first letter to Blair. To that plan, I believe, he adhered ever after, though, in important respects, he completely altered, in subsequent years, the substance of his lectures. The opening of a new session is always an interesting occasion, and when it is the professor's first appearance the interest is of course intensified. The crowd that assembled to hear my father's introductory lecture proved too numerous for the dimensions of the THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 239 room, and it was found necessary to adjourn to the more capacious class-room of Dr Monro, the Professor of Anatomy. Wilson entered, accompanied by Principal Baird, Professors Home, Jameson, and Hope in their gowns, " a thing we believe quite unusual," remarked the Scotsjfian, in whose eyes this trifling mark of respect seemed a kind of insult to the audience, composed as it was to a large extent, of persons prejiared to give the new Professor anything but a cor- dial greeting. An eye-witness* thus described the scene: — "There was a furious bitterness of feeling against him among the classes of which probably most of his pupils would consist, and although I had no prospect of being among them, I went to his first lecture, prepared to join in a cabal, which I understood was formed to put him down. The lecture-room was crowded to the ceiling. Such a collection of hard-browed scowling Scotsmen, muttering over their knobsticks, I never saw. The Professor entered with a bold step, annd profound silence. Every one expected some deprecatory or propitiatory introduction of himself, and his subject, upon which the mass was to decide against him, reason or no reason ; but he began in a voice of thunder right into t/ie matter of his lecture, kept up unflinchingly and unhesitatingly without a pause, a flow of rhetoric such as Dugald Stewart or Thomas Brown, his predeces- sors, never delivered in the same place. Not a word, not a murmur escaped his captivated, I ought to say his conquered audience, and at the end they gave him a right-down unanimous burst of applause. Those who came to scoff remained to praise." Another spectator of the scene tells me that towards the conclu- sion of the lecture, the commencement of which had been delayed by the circumstance already mentioned, the Professor was inter- rupted in the midst of an eloquent peroration by the sudden entrance of Dr Monro's tall figure — enveloped as usual in his long white greatcoat — to announce that his hour had come. Pulling out his watch, the unsympathizing anatomist addressed him : " Sir, it's past one o'clock, and my students are at the door ; you must conclude." The orator, thus rudely cut short, had some difficulty in preserving his self-possession, and, after a few sentences more, sat down. * The author of The Tiuo Cosmos ; MS. letter. 240 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. The first lecture and those which followed, amply justified the expectations of friends, and completely silenced enemies. Even the unfriendly critic above referred to, while attempting to disparage this first display of his powers, patronizingly assured the new Pro- fessor that if he made the exertions he had promised, and demeaned himself as became the successor of Ferguson, Brown, and Stewart, his past errors might be forgotten, and he might obtain that public confidence which was essential to his success as a teacher. No such exhortations were needed to make Wilson feel the gravity of his position, and to stimulate him to maintain the glory of the University, on which for the next thirty-one years he reflected so much lustre. When he uttered the confident prediction, " I shall be professor to my dying day," it was in no boastful spirit. He had made up his mind to devote his full strength to the duties of the office, and with all his distrust of his own metaphysical capacity, he had a reasonable confidence in his ability to make the Moral Philosophy class-room, as it had been before him, a place of high and ennobling influence. To himself personally the change of [position brought with it a consolidation of character and aims which imparted new dignity to his life and at the same time in- creased his happiness. In assuming the Professor's gown he did not indeed think it necessary, had that been possible, to divest himself of his proper characteristics, to be less fond of sport, less lively with his pen. His literary activity and influence increased in the years that followed this, for " Christopher North " was as yet but a dimly-figured personage. But from this time " The Pro- fessor" is his peculiar, his most prized title; the Chair is the place where he feels his highest work to be. I believe the prejudices and hostility which obstructed his way to it, however triumphantly overcome, threw their shadows forward more than is generally supposed. For, while no one could gainsay the fidelity with which he discharged his duty, and the altogether unrivalled eloquence of his lectures, I believe there were always some people who believed that he was nothing more fhan a splendid declaimer, and that his course of lectures contained more poetry than philosophy. He was himself aware of this, and refers to it in a letter to De Quincey, in which he naively asks his friend to describe him as " thoroughly logical and argumentative," which he says "is truej not a rhetorician THE MORAL PHILOSOPHY CHAIR. 241 as fools aver." The truth is, his poetical and literary fame injured him in this respect as a lecturer; commonplace people thinking it impossible that a man could be both logical and eloquent, an acute metaphysician as well as a brilliant humorist. But among his own students generally there was but one opinion of " The Professor;" to them he was truly Der Eitizige. Other professors enjoyed their respect and esteem; Wilson took their hearts as well as their imaginations by storm. They may have before this read and argued about philosophy ; they were now made to feel it as a power. "The mental faculties" were no mere names; the passions, and affections, and the dread mysteries of conscience, ceased to be abstract matters of speculation, and were exhibited before them as living and solemn realities mirrored in their own kindling breasts ; and when they found that that formidable personage, of whom they had heard so much, and whose aspect, as he stood before them (he never sat), did not belie his fame, was in private the most accessible, frank, and kindly of men, their admiration was turned into enthusi- astic love. There are few who listened to him, whether in the palmy days of his prime, or in the evening of life, when he came to be spoken of as "the old man eloquent," that do no speak of him with glowing cheek and sparkling eye, as they recall the cherished recollections of his moving eloquence, his irresistible humour, his eager interest in their studies and their welfare, his manly freedom of criticism, and his large-hearted generosity. The readiness with which he grasped at any question put to him gave his manner a quickness and animation of expression that at first was somewhat startling. While he had a terrible faculty for sfiitbbi/ig any display of conceit or forwardness, diffident talent was set at ease in his presence by the winning sympathy of his look and manner, which at once infused confidence and hope. But I am anticipating what will form the subject of a special chapter, and shall now close this with a brief letter, addressed to his friend Mr Smith, on Christmas day 1820 : — "My dear Sir, — If you can send me ifistaufly, i.e., by the return of mail or coach, Vince's ' Refutation of Atheism,' you will greatly oblige me. It is not in Edinburgh. Unless, however, you can send it immediately, it will be useless to me. 242 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " I have no time to write. We have ten days of vacation, and I resume my lectures on January 2d. I have deUvered thirty lectures, and am now advancing to the moral division of my course. As far as I can learn, my friends highly applaud, and my worst foes are dumb or sulky. The pubUc, I believe, are satisfied. I need not say that my labour is intense. Direct to me at No. 53 Queen Street, where I send for my letters every day ; and if you have time, tell me how you are, and what doing. — Yours very truly, "John Wilson." l^HE PROFESSOR AXB HIS CLASS. 243 CHAPTER X. THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. It was no temporary enthusiasm that glorified the name of " the Professor," among his students, and still keeps his memory green in hearts that have long ago outlived the romantic ideals of youth. One of the most pleasing results of my labour has been to come upon traces everywhere of the love and admiration with which my father is remembered by those who attended his class. That remembrance is associated in some instances with sentiments of the most unbounded gratitude for help and counsel given in the most critical times of a young man's life. How much service of this sort was rendered during an academical connexion of thirty years may be estimated as something more to be thought of than the proudest literary fame. So, I doubt not, my father felt, though on that subject, or on any claims he had earned for individual gratitude, he was never heard to speak. Of his merits as a teacher of moral philosophy I am not speaking, and cannot pretend to give any critical estimate. I leave that to more competent hands. What I speak of is his relation to his students beyond the formal business of the class ; for it is that, I think, that constitutes, as much as the quality of the lectures delivered, the difference be- tween one teacher and another. Here was a poet, an orator, a philosopher, fitted in any one of these characters to excite the interest and respect of youthful hearers. But it was not these qualities alone or chiefly that called forth the affectionate homage of so many hearts : what knit them to the Professor was the heart they found in him, the large and generous soul of a man that could be resorted to and relied on, as well as respected and admired. No man ever had a deeper and kindlier sympathy with the feelings 244 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. of youth; none could be prompter and sincerer to give advice and assistance when required. Himself endowed with that best gift, a heart that never grew old, he could still, when things were no longer with him "as they had been of yore," enter into the thoughts and aspirations of those starting fresh in life, and give them en- couragement, and exchange ideas with them, in no strained or formal fashion. No wonder that such a man was popular, that his name is still dear, and awakens a thrill of filial affection and pride in the hearts of men who once knew him as their preceptor and friend. I should have liked much had I been able to give some account of the Professor's lectures, and his appearance in his class. But I am saved the risk of attempting to describe what I have not seen, and cannot be expected to be skilled in, by the sketches with which I have been favoured from men well able to do justice to the sub- ject, so far as any sketch can be supposed to do justice to an elo- quence that required to be heard in order to be appreciated. Of these various reminiscences I shall give three, in the order of the dates to which they respectively relate, viz., 1830, 1837, and 1850, interposing first two characteristic records of earlier relations be- tween the Professor and his students. About a year after he had entered upon his new duties, the Professor was rambling during vacation-time in the south of Scot- land, having for a while exchanged the gown for the old " Sporting Jacket." On his return to Edinburgh, he was obliged to pass through Hawick, where, on his arrival, finding it to be fair-day, he readily availed himself of the opportunity to witness the amuse ments going on. These happened to include a "little mill" between two members of the local " fancy." His interest in pugilism attracted him to the spot, where he soon discovered something very wrong, and a degree of injustice being perpetrated which he could not stand. It was the work of a moment to espouse the weaker side, a proceeding which naturally drew down upon him the hostility of the opposite party. This result was to him, however, of little consequence. There was nothing for it but to beat or be beaten. He was soon "in position;" and, before his unknown adversary well knew what was coming, the skilled fist of the Professor had planted such a "facer" as did not require THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CHAIR. 245 repetition. Another "round" was not called for; and leaving the discomfited champion to recover at his leisure, the Professor walked coolly away to take his seat in the stage-coach, about to start for Edinburgh. He just reached it in time to secure a place inside, where he found two young men already seated. As a matter ol course he entered into conversation with them, and before the journey was half over, they had become the best friends in the world. He asked all sorts of questions about their plans and prospects, and was informed they were going to attend College during the winter session. Among the classes mentioned were Leslie's, Jameson's, Wilson's, and some others. " Oh ! Wilson ; he is a queer fellow, I am told; rather touched here" (pointing signifi- cantly to his head) ; " odd, decidedly odd." The lads, somewhat cautiously, after the manner of their country, said they had heard strange stories reported of Professor Wilson, but it was not right to believe everything ; and that they would judge for themselves when they saw him. " Quite right, lads ; quite right ; but I assure you I know something of the fellow myself, and I think he is a queer devil ; only this very forenoon at Hawick he got into a row with a great lubberly fellow for some unknown cause of offence, and gave him such a taste of his fist as won't soon be forgotten ; the whole place was ringing with the story; I wonder you did not hear of it." "W^ell," rejoined the lads, "we did hear something of the sort, but it seemed so incredible that a Professor of Moral Philosophy should mix himself up with disreputable quarrels at a fair, we did not believe it." Wilson looked very grave, agreed that it was certainly a most unbecoming position for a Professor; yet he was sorry to say that having heard the whole story from an eye-witness, it was but too true. Dexterously turning the subject, he very soon banished all further discussion about the "Professor," and held the delighted lads enchained in the interest of his conversation until they reached the end of the journey. On getting out of the coach, they politely asked him, as he seemed to know Edinburgh well, if he would direct them to a hotel. "With pleasure, my young friends ; we shall all go to a hotel together ; no doubt you are hungry and ready for dinner, and you shall dine with me." A coach was called; Wilson ordered the luggage to be placed outside, 246 nIEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. and gave directions to the driver, who in a short time pulled up at a very nice-looking house, with a small garden in front The situ- ation was rural, and there was so little of the aspect of a hotel about the place, that on alighting, the lads asked once or twice, if they had come to the right place? "All right, gentlemen; walk in; leave your trunks in the lobby. I have settled with the driver, and now I shall order dinner." No time was lost, and very soon the two youths were conversing freely with their unknown friend, and enjoying themselves extremely in the satisfactory position of having thus accidentally fallen into such good company and good quarters. The deception, however, could not be kept up much longer; and, in the course of the evening, Wilson let them know where they were, telling them that they could now judge for themselves what sort of a fellow "the Professor" was. Another anecdote of holiday-time relates to a later period, when maturer years had invested the Professor with a more patriarchal dignity and sedateness. True to his love for spring, he had selected that season for an excursion to the pastoral vales of Yarrow and Ettrick, where glittering rivers, "Winding through the pomp of cultivated nature," attracted more than one poet's admiration ; for if Wordsworth sang in verse, Wilson uttered in prose how "in spirit all streams are one that flow through the forest. Ettrick and Yarrow come rushing into each other's arms, aboon the haughs o' Selkirk, and then flow Tweed-blent to the sea." In the month of May, he sent an invita- tion to his students resident in the south of Scotland, to meet him at "Tibby Shiels's," where they were to wander a day with him " to enjoy the first gentle embrace of spring in some solitaiy spot." Where could it have been better selected than at St Mary's Loch ? It was said that the meeting was one of unspeakable delight ; the hills were adorned with the freshest green, and the calm, quiet lake reflected the surrounding verdure in its deep waters, and they beheld " The swan on still St Mary's lake, Float double swan and shadow." The Professor spoke of the love of nature, and his words impressed them all, and of the poet of Altrive, " our own shepherd, dear to THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 247 all the rills that issue, in thousands, from their own recesses among the braes ; for when a poet walks through regions his genius has sung, all nature does him homage, from cloud to clod — from the sky to green earth — all living creatures therein included, from eagle to the mole. James knows this, and is happy among the hills." And was that little company then assembled by the "dowie holms" not happy too ? Wilson was in his brightest mood ; no one was overlooked ; joyously and pleasantly passed the day ; and before evening laid its westering shadows into gloaming, he called his students around him, and rising up, **he shook his wild locks among them, blessed them, called them his children," and bade them adieu. Surely a kindly recognition of these young men in manner such as this would bring benefit with it not less lasting, than when, in graver state, he prelected, ex cathedra, to his assem- bled class. We get an idea of what that class was from the following recol- lections, which Mr John Hill Burton has kindly sent to me. He says : — "I first saw and made the acquaintance of Professor Wilson when I joined his class in 1830. The occasion was of much more interest to me than the usual first sight of an instructor by a pupil. I do not know if there be anything of the same kind now, but in that day there was a peculiar devotion to Blackwood's Magazine among young readers in the north. All who were ambitious of looking beyond their class exercises, considered this the fountain- head of originahty and spirit in literature. The articles of the last number were discussed critically in the debating societies, and knowingly in the supper parties, and the writing of the master-hand was always anxiously traced. To see that master, then, for the first time, was an epoch in one's life. " The long-looked for first sight of a great man often proves a disappointment to the votary. It was far otherwise in this instance. Much as I had heard of his appearance, it exceeded expectation, and I said to myself that in the tokens of physical health and strength, intellect, high spirit, and all the elements of masculine beauty, I had not seen his equal. There was a curious contrast to all this in the adjuncts of his presence — the limp Geneva gown, 248 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. and the square, box-shaped desk, over which he seemed like some great bust set on a square plinth — but I question if any robes or chair of state would have added dignity to his appearance. " On a very early day in the session — I forget whether it was quite the first — we suddenly came to an acquaintance, on my having occasion to speak with him at the end of the lecture. When he found that I was an Aberdonian, he asked me if I knew Tarland. 'a place celebrated for its markets.' To be sure I did; and Tar- land was in those days not a place to be easily forgotten. On the border of the Highlands, it had been a great mart for smuggled whisky ; and though the reduction of the excise duties had spoiled that trade, custom continued it for a while in a modified shape, and the wild ruffianly habits it had nourished were still in their prime, and not likely to disappear until the generation trained to them had passed away. The Professor had seen and experienced the ways of the place. He hinted, with a sort of half-sarcastic solem- nity, that he was there in the course of the ethical inquiries to which he had devoted himself; just as the professsor of natural history or any other persevering geologist might be found where any unusual geological phenomenon is developed, or the professor of anatomy might conduct his inquiries into some abnormal struc- ture of the human body. His researches might lead him into trials and perils, as those of zealous investigators are often apt to do. In fact he had to draw upon his early acquired knowledge of the art of self-defence on the occasion, and he believed he did so not un- successfully. Here there was a sparkle of the eye, a curl of the lip, and a general look of fire and determination, which reminded one of ' The stem joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.' " He described the market-day as a sort of continued surge of rioting, drinking, and fighting; and when darkness was coming on, he had to find his way to some distance among unknown roads. A lame man, very unsuited for that wild crowd, had in the mean- time scraped a sort of acquaintance with him, and interested him by the scholarship interspersed in his conversation. He was the schoolmaster of a neighbouring parish ; and as their ways lay THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 249 together, he was to be the guide, and, in return, to get the assist- ance of the stalwart stranger. The poor schoolmaster had, howc ever, so extensively moistened his clay, that assistance was not sufficient, and the Professor had to throw him over his shoulder, and carry him. Witli the remainder of the dominie's physical strength, too, oozed away that capacity for threading the intricacies of the path, which was his contribution to the joint adventure. Assistance had to be got from some of the miscellaneous high- landers dispersing homewards ; and as all were anxious to bear a hand, the small group increased into a sort of procession, and the Professor reached his abode, wherever that might be, at the head of a sort of army of these lawless men. " A history of this kind was calculated to put a young person at ease, in the presence of the great man and the Professor of Moral Philosophy. We noAV sailed easily into conversation and went off into metaphysics. That he should seriously and earnestly talk on such matters with the raw youth was, of course, very gratifying; but there was a sort of misgiving, that he took for granted my knowing more than I did. This was a way of his, however, to which I became accustomed ; he was always ready to give people credit for extensive learning. There was no mere hollow courtesy or giving the go-bye in his talk on this occasion. He helped me at once to the root of many important things connected with the studies I was pursuing. A point arose, on which he would speak to Sir William Hamilton, who knew all about it ; he did afterwards speak to him accordingly, somewhat to my surprise, as I thought he would be unlikely to remember either me or my talk, — and I thus made an acquaintance which afterwards strengthened into an admiring friendship for that great man. Then another point came up, on which De Quincey might be consulted, and would give very curious information, if he could be caught. He was then dwelling with the Professor — as much as he could be said to dwell anywhere. Sup- pose then I should come and dine with them ? That would be my best chance of seeing De Quincey. That it was quite right to take advantage of this frank invitation, and, an obscure stranger, to catch at an opportunity of thrusting myself on the hospitalities and the family circle of a distinguished man, may be questioned. But 250 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. most people will admit that the temptation was great. It was too much for me, and I accepted, with immense satisfaction. " I went to Gloucester Place accordingly. The poet's residence did not represent the traditional garret, nor his guests the eccentric troop familiar to Smollett and Fielding, although I had gone there to meet one who had the reputation of bringing into the nineteenth century the habits of that age in their most grotesque shape. Him, however, I did not see. The Opium-Eater was supposed to be somewhere about the premises, but he chose neither to appear in the drawing-room nor the dining-room, and years passed before I became acquainted with the most pecuHar man of genius, in Britain at least, of the age. Otherwise, there was good company, hand- somely housed, and entertained with hospitality thoroughly kind, easy, and hearty, but all in perfec*- taste and condition. " It was a sort of epoch to myself, and therefore I remember pretty well who were present. We had Professor Jameson, then at the zenith of his fame as a mineralogist, Lawrence M 'Donald the sculptor, and John Malcolm, then a popular poet and writer of miscellanies, whose fame, though considerable then, has probably been worn out ere this day ; he was, as I knew him afterwards, a pleasant, gentle, meditatively-inclined man, though I think he had seen military service, and knew the mess-room of the old war — a different thing from that of the present day. Youngest, as well as I remember, of these seniors, was a Captain Alexander, whom I take to be the traveller, Sir J. E. Alexander. " Among my own contemporaries, were some representatives of young Edinburgh, of whom a word or two presently, and a Pole, who happened to be the only guest with whom I had any previous acquaintance. His formal designation was Eeon Count Lubienski. Seeing a good deal of him afterwards during the five months' session, I formed a great idea of his abilities. He had nothing of the imaginative, or of the aesthetic — a term then coming into use from Germany ; but for an eye to the practical, and a capacity for mastering all knowledge leading in that direction, it did not happen to me to find his equal among my contemporaries. With all the difficulties of language against him, he carried off from young Edinburgh the first prize in the civil law class. After having THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 251 astonished us throughout the session, he left us at the end, and I never could discover anything of a distinct kind about his career, though I have turned up the initials of his name in the many bio- graphical dictionaries of contemporaries which seem to be a speci- alty of the present day. I heard, many years since, a vague rumour that he had risen in the Russian service. He was just the man, according to the notions of this country, to be useful to such a government, if he would consent to serve it. I feel certain, how- ever, that he was a man who could not have escaped being heard of by the world, had his career in practical life lain elsewhere than in a close despotism. " Such was the outer circle of guests ; within was the Professor's own family. And so hither I found myself transferred as by a wave of an enchanter's wand, a raw, unknown youth, with claim of no kind in the shape of introduction, with no credentials or testimony to my bare respectability; no name, even of a common friend, to bring our conversation to an anchor with. This success seems far more surprising when looked back upon than it was felt at the time. Young people read in novels of such things, and therefore are not astonished by them; but in after life they become aware of their extreme uncommonness. Nor was it a mere casual act of formal hospitality; I received afterwards many a cordial welcome within those hospitable doors. " It is possibly its personal bearing that makes me now remember pretty distinctly a good-humoured and kindly pleasantry of the Professor's at that first dinner. I have mentioned that there were some representatives of young Edinburgh present. I do not know what precise position towards the rest of the human race the youth of Edinburgh may now claim, but it appeared to me, when I came among them at the time I speak of, that they considered it beyond any kind of question that they were superior to all the rest of the world. To one coming from the common hard drudgery of our classes in the North, where we did our work zealously enough, with plenty of internal rivalry, but thought no more of claiming fame outside the walls than any body of zealous mechanics, it was a great novelty to get among a community, where the High School dux of 18 — , or the gainer of the gold medal in the class, was 2 -.2 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. pointed out to you ; nay, further, to meet with lads of your own standing, who were the authors of pubUshed poems, had delivered great and teUing speeches at the Speculative, or had written capital articles in the Edinburgh Literary Journal, or the Ufiiversity Album. Whether it were the inheritance of the long hierarchy of literary (rlory which Edinburgh had enjoyed, or arose from any other cause, this phenomenon was marvellous to a stranger, and rather disagree- ably marvellous, because a youth coming into all this brilliant light, out of the Boeotian darkness of Aberdeen, was conscious of being contemplated with compassionate condescension. We had, how- ever, at the University of Edinburgh at that time, a considerable body of Aberdonians, pretty compactly united. At our head was William Spalding, the first among us in learning and accomplish- ments, as well as in the means of using them. He well justified our expectations by his subsequent career, sadly impeded as it was by bodily ailments, which brought it to an untimely close. I have got into an episode in mentioning him here, but it is not entirely inappropriate, for the Professor was, as I believe he has been in many other instances, the first who, from a high place, took notice of Spalding's capacity. " Well, emboldened and elated, I suppose, by being brought into social equality with them, it came to pass that, in our after-dinner talk, I threw down the gauntlet to the representatives of young Edinburgh then present, and stood for the equality, at least, if not the superiority of Aberdeen in all the elements of human eminence. In such a contest, a good deal depends on the number of names, in any way known to fame, that the champion remembers ; and Aberdeen possessed, especially if one drew on the far past, a very fair stock of celebrities. As I was giving them forth, amidst a good deal of derisive laughter and ironical cheering, the Professor, tickled by the absurdity of the thing, threw himself into the contest, on my side, and tumbled over some of my antagonists in an extremely delectable manner. This was a first revelation to me of a power which I afterwards often observed with astonishment, — a kind of intellectual gladiatorship, which enabled him, in a sort of rollicking, playful manner, to overthrow his adversary with little injury to him, but much humiliation. I can compare it to nothing it so much THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 253 resembles as a powerful, playful, good-natured mastiff taking his sport with a snarling cur. As I shall have to mention more especially, this was a powerful instrument of discipline in his class. He never had to stand on his dignity. When it was worth his while, he tumbled any transgressor about in a way that made him, though unhurt, thoroughly ashamed of himself, and an example to deter others from doing the like. On the occasion referred to, it was possibly \dsible to the bystanders, and had I possessed more experience, might have been known to myself, that I also had been gently laid sprawling in the attacks that seemed directed entirely against my adversaries ; but 1 happily saw only their discomfiture, and rejoiced accordingly. All that was done for me was, however, entirely neutralized by a random shaft from the Pole, finding mark he never meant, and piercing more effectually than all the artillery of my opponents. Looking with an air of intense gravity on the whole discussion, he broke in with the inquiry, whether he was right or not in his supposition, that ' Apperdeen was verray illous- trious for the making of stockingks?' After this, there was no use of saying more on either side. " I wish I had tried to Boswellize, or could now remember the talk of that, as of many other evenings. One little incident I remember distinctly, but I am sure I shall be unable to tell it to any effect. Some priggish remarks having been made by some one on the power of exhaustive analysis, the Professor fell to illustrate it by an attempt, through that process, to send a hired assistant, name unknown, for a fresh bottle of claret. He began calling to him by the ordinary names, John, James, William, Thomas, and so on, but none hit the mark — the man standing by the sideboard, in demure contemplation, as if inwardly solving some metaphysical difiiculty. The Professor then passed on in a wild discursive flight through stranger names. At last he seemed to have hit the right one, for the attendant darted forward. It was, in fact, in obedience to a sign by a guest that he was wanted, but it came in immediate response to a thoroughly unconventional designation, — Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, or something of that sort ; and the fun was en- hanced by the man's solemn unconsciousness that he had been the object of a logical experiment. 2 54 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " But to come back to the class. It was one that must have been somewhat memorable to the Professor himself, when he looked back upon it in after years. Not only was his son John in it, but it included John Thomson Gordon and William Edmondstoune Aytoun, so that unconsciously the Professor was instructing the future husbands of his daughters. There were others to give it interest and repute — as Archibald Swinton, now Professor of Civil Law; the clever Pole I have already referred to; John Walker Ord, who showed poetic powers which promised a considerable harvest; and Thomas Todd Stoddart, who had won laurels, and thoroughly enjoyed them too, in his published poem of 'The Death Wake.' " The powers of Wilson as an instructor and a public speaker will, of course, be described by others. I may simply say that attendance at his class, at the same time that it was an act of duty, rewarded the student with what duty seldom brings, the enjoyment of an oration alive with brilliant and powerful eloquence. " Saturday was a great day of enjoyment of a more egotistic kind. Then he spoke on the essays he had received. He gave us a breadth of topics, and allowed us wonderful latitude in the handling of them — but he certainly read them all — and what a mass of trash he must have thus perused ! In criticising them, he was charitable and cordial to the utmost stretch of magnanimous charity. I can hardly say what an exciting thrill it imparted to the youth to hear his own composition read out from that high place, and commented on with earnestness, and not without commendation. The recol- lection of these days sometimes also recalls Boswell's garrulous account of his first symposium with Johnson. 'The Orthodox and High Church sound of The Mitre ; the figure and manner of the celebrated Samuel Johnson ; the extraordinary power and precision of his conversation, and the pride arising from finding myself admitted as his companion, produced a variety of sensations, and a pleasing elevation of mind beyond what I had ever before experi- enced.' But our elevation proceeded from entirely intellectual sources, without the aid of the other stimulants which contributed to Boswell's glory. Altogether, that class was a scene of enjoyment which remains in my mind entirely distinct from even the pleasanter portion of other work-day college life. THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 255 " The class was a very large one. I have referred to the Pro- fessor's peculiar power of preserving discipline, or rather of keeping up good-humour, gentlemanly fellowship, and order, without the necessity of discipline. An instance occurred during the session, when he exercised this power in a matter not peculiar to his own class, not indeed showing itself within the class, but general to the students at large, as a portion of the inhabitants of Edinburgh having a common tie. There was a great snow-ball riot in that session. This is a thing peculiar to Edinburgh, and not easily made intelligible to those who have not witnessed it. As a stranger it surprised me much. In the north we had our old feuds and ani- mosities, often breaking out in serious violence and mischief But that a set of people — most of them full-grown — should, without any settled feud, utterly change the whole tenor of their conduct, and break, into something like insurrection, merely because snow was on the ground, appeared to be a silliness utterly incomprehensible. This snow-ball affair became so formidable-looking that a mounted foreign refugee, with his head full of revolutions, galloped through the streets (I forget if he was in any way armed) calling out ' Barri- cade — shoot !' " After it was pretty well over, the Professor made a speech to us on the conclusion of his daily lecture. He did not condemn or even disparage snow-balling ; on the contrary, he expressed glow- ingly his sense of its sometimes irresistible attractions. These he illustrated by what had once occurred to himself and a venerable and illustrious friend ; we thought at the time that he meant Dr Chalmers. In a spring walk among the hills, and in the middle of a semi-metaphysical discussion, they came upon a snow-wreath. By a sort of simultaneous impulse, borne on the recollection of early days, the discussion stopped, and they fell too to a regular hard bicker. After working away till they were covered with snow, panting with fatigue, and glowing red with the exertion, they both stopped, and laughed loud in each other's face; just such a laugh as he must have then expressed, did the Professor force upon his class. Then came his contrast between such a scene and a fracas in the dirty streets, where low-bred ruffians took the opportunity to get out some bit of petty revenge or of mere wanton cruelty, or of 256 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. insolence to those whose character and position entitled them to deference ; and so he went on until there could not be a question that every one in the class who had been concerned in the affair felt ashamed of himself His practical conclusion was that they should have their bicker, certainly, — but adjourn it from the College quadrangle and the street to the Pentland hills. " We naturally, among ourselves, talked over any little instances illustrative of the remarkable power of making any one whom he had to rebuke or correct feel foolish. For instance, there used to be a set of dusky personages who then stood at the corner of certain streets, and annoyed the passenger by stepping up right in front of him like an established acquaintance, and saying, 'Any old clothes?' It was said that the way in which the Professor on such an occasion turned round on tlie intruder, and said, 'Yes; have you any ? ' had such an effect, that the word was passed through the tribe, and he never was again addressed by any of its members. " I remember a very strong negative testimony to this peculiar power, in the circumstance of his entire freedom from the persecu- tions of two licensed tormentors, who were the terror of all the rest of the professors. They were men of venerable years and weak intellect, who had established a sort of prescriptive right to attend such classes as they might honour with their presence. It was not of course their mere presence, but the use to which it was put by tricky students, that made the standmg grief of the professors. One of them was called Sir Peter Nimmo, a dirty, ill-looking lout, who had neither wit himself, nor any quality with a sufficient amount of pleasant grotesqueness in it to create wit in others. I believe he was merely an idly-inclined and stupidish man of low condition, who, having once got into practice as a sort of public laughing- stock, saw that the occupation paid better than honest industry, and had cunning enough to keep it up. He must have had a rather hard time of it, however, in some respects, for it was an established practice to get hold of the cards of important person- ages — especially if they were as testy as they were important — and to present them to Sir Peter with a request that he would favour the person indicated with his company at dinner. He always went, pretending simplicity, and using a little caution, if he saw symptoms I THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 257 of strong measures. I suppose he sometimes got a meal that way, following an old Scottish saying about taking ' the bite with the buffet.' He always called himself Sir Peter. It was said that a man of high title had professed to knight him in a drunken frolic. He wandered about sometimes endeavouring to establish himself as a sponge in country houses. Strangely enough, he thus got the ear of Wordsworth, who showed him attention. He used the Pro- fessor's name, and Wordsworth, as I heard, talked of him as a Scotch baronet, eccentric in appearance, but fundamentally one of the most sensible men he ever met with. The Professor remarked that this compliment was no doubt owing to Sir Peter having judiciously preserved silence, and allowed Wordsworth to pour into his ear unceasingly the even tenor of his loquacity. " The other of this strange pair was a rather more interesting creature. He was called Dr Syntax. He had of course another name, but of that the public knew nothing. The Tour of Dr Syntax in search of the picturesque, with doggerel rhymes and extravagant illustrations, had not then quite lost the great popularity it enjoyed. The representations of the hero were intended to be gross carica- tures, but the structure of his namesake was so supernaturally pro- tracted and spidery as closely to approach the proportions of the caricature. His costume, probably by no design of his own, com- pleted the likeness. This being, if seen in the street, was always marching along with extreme rapidity, with his portfolio under his arm, as if full of important business, unless, indeed, he had just got a present of a turban, a yeoman's helmet, or some other preposterous decoration, when he would stand exhibiting himself wherever a crowd happened to pass. He honoured the various professors and clergy of Edinburgh with his attendance at their lectures and sermons. He always chose the most conspicuous place he could find. There, with his long, demure, cadaverous face, on which a stray smile would have been at once frozen, he proceeded to business and spread out his portfolio. He sometimes took notes of what was said, at others took the portrait of the speaker; it may be presumed that in church he limited himself to the former function. If it grew dark, he would solemnly draw from his pocket a small taper and strike a light, determined not to be interrupted R 258 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. in his duties, and in the centre of the general gloom a small disk of lifj-ht would distinguish his countenance, which was as solemn as the grave, yet shed around a degree of restless mirth which spoiled many a lecture, and must have sadly jumbled the devotions of the church-goers. I believe every professor received a full share of this man's attentions except Wilson. His literary ally, the Pro- fessor of Civil Law, a man endowed with a great fund of humour, which, however, he could not convert like him into defensive armour, suffered dreadfully from Syntax, and when the pale face was visible in the highest desk, we knew that a day was lost, the poor Lecturer having enough to do in keeping down internal con- vulsions of laughter, which seemed as if they would explode and shatter his frame to pieces. " Both these tormentors, of whom I have, perhaps, said too much, stood in wholesome dread of Wilson. It was, I have no doubt, by effectually treating them according to their folly, that he earned this exemption, in which his brethren must have greatly envied him. " Before that session came to an end, an event occurred momen- tous to all of us — the Reform Bill was brought in. We youths had previously indulged in no politics, or if in any, they were of a mild Aristides and Brutus kind, tinged perhaps by De Lolme and the Letters of Junius. Now, however, we were at once separated into two hostile forces. To the liberals, Blackwood's Magazine, ceasing to be the guiding-star of literature, had become the watchfire of the enemy. The bitterness of the hostility felt at that time by the young men of the two opposite political creeds cannot easily be understood by those in the same stage of life at the present day. The friendship must have been fast indeed that remained after one friend had become a reformer and the other an anti-reformer. We used to make faces at each other as we passed; and if a few words were exchanged, they were hostile and threatening. I suppose our hostility was a type of a stage of transition between the ferocity of times of civil war and the mild political partisanship of the present day. "The Professor was known to take his stand against the Bill with great vehemence, but I never knew more than one instance of THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 259 an approach to ebullition of it upon any of his friends on our side. There had been many Reform meetings of all kinds, sometimes assembling vast multitudes, when it occurred to attempt a Tory meeting — the word Conservative had not then been invented. A question arose among us whether they should be allowed to have it their own way, and since they called the meeting public, whether our party should not go and out-vote them. The tactic of public meetings, as simply one-sided demonstrations of the strength of a party, was not then understood, and they were confounded with meetings of representative bodies, where strength is tried by dis- cussing and voting. A friend of the Professor's older than the youngsters of his class, but a good deal younger than himself, was known strongly to favour an invasion of the meeting from our side. He called on the Professor presently before the meeting ; it was a friendly visit, but partially, I presume, for the purpose of sounding the Professor on the exciting question. Just before leaving, he expressed a hope that there would be no disturbance. The Pro- fessor, drawing himself up, answered, as well as I can remember having heard, in this wise : ' What any set of blackguards may be prepared to attempt in these days I cannot predict ; but I can say, that if I see any man who is on terms of acquaintance with me go to that meeting to meddle with it, I hope I may be the first — (a pause) — to kick him out into the street.' And the visitor said the Professor looked as if he were so close on the point of rehearsing this performance on the spot, that he involuntarily started a good pace bacL "Though politics entered deeply into our social and literary intercourse at that time, yet the Professor was strong enough in his other elements of distinction to keep himself aloof, and remain untouched in his other relations by the influence of party, without in the least degree putting in question the sincerity of his attach- ment to his own side. He made in the class just one allusion to politics, and it was emphatic. An ambitious student, in one of his essays, finding his way to the characteristics of democracy, made some allusions to passing events in a tone which he no doubt thought likely to secure the favour of the Professor. We never would have known of this effort had it not been read out in full to 2 bo MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. us in the class, and followed by a severe rebuke on the introduction of politics to a place where party strife should be unknown." Another student,* who attended the class seven years later, fortunately preserved his notes, and sends me the following vivid recollections of the winter session of 1837 : — " Of Professor Wilson as a lecturer on Moral Philosophy, it is not easy to convey any adequate idea to strangers, — to those who never saw his grand and noble form excited into bold and passionate action behind that strange, old-fashioned desk, nor heard his manly and eloquent voice sounding forth its stirring utterances with all the strange and fitful cadence of a music quite peculiar to itself The many-sidedness of the man, and the unconventional character of his prelections, combine to make it exceedingly difficult to give any full analysis of his course, or to define the nature and grounds of his wonderful power as a lecturer. I am certain that if every student who ever attended his class were to place on record his impressions of these, the impressions of each student would be widely different, and yet they would not, taken all together, exhaust the subject, or supply a complete representation either of his matter or his manner. There was so mucli in the look and tone, in every aspect and in every movement of the man, which touched and swayed the student at the time, but which cannot now be recalled, described, or even realized, that any reminiscence by any one can be interesting only to those whose memories of the same scenes enable them to follow out the train of recollection, or com- plete the picture which it may suggest. "I attended his class in session 1837-8. It was the session immediately succeeding the loss of his wife, the thought of which, as it was ever again and again re-awakened in his mind by allusions in his lectures, however remote, to such topics as death, bereave- ment, widowhood, youthful love, domestic scenes, and, above all, to conjugal happiness, again and again shook his great soul with an agony of uncontrollable grief, the sight of which was sufficient to subdue us all into deep and respectful sympathy with him. On such occasions he would pause for a moment or two in his lecture, fling himself forward on the desk, bury his face in his hands, and * The late Rev. William Smith, D.D.. of North Leith Church. THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 261 while his whole frame heaved with visible emotion, he would weep and sob like a very child. "The roll of papers on which each lecture was written, which he carried into the class-room firmly grasped in his hand, and suddenly unrolled and spread out on the desk before him, commencing to read the same moment, could not fail to attract the notice of any stranger in his class-room. It was composed in large measure of portions of old letters — the addresses and postage-marks on which could be easily seen as he turned the leaf, yet it was equally evident that the writing was neat, careful, and distinct ; and, except in a more than usually dark and murky day, it was read with perfect ease and fluency. "In the course of lectures which I attended, he began by treating of the desire of knowledge ; the feeling of admiration ; sympathy ; desire of society ; emulation ; envy ; anger ; revenge ; self; self- esteem ; the love of fame or glory, and the love of power. "The most memorable points in these lectures were (i.) a highly wrought description of Envy, founded on Spencer's picture of Lucifera riding in the gorgeous chariot of Pride, and preceded by six Passions (the fifth of which is Envy) riding each on an appro- priate animal; (2.) a very minute and purely metaphysical analysis of the idea of Self; and (3.), a highly poetical illustration of the workings of the Love of Power. This last display I can never forget ; and sure am I that no one present can ever forget it either. It appeared to have been a lecture whose place in the course and powerful eloquence were previously not unknown to fame. For when I went to the class-room at the usual hour on the last day of November, I found it already overcrowded with an audience, com- prising many strangers of note and several professors, all in a high state of expectation. Conspicuous in the centre of the front bench was the new Professor of Logic, Sir William Hamilton, eager with anticipation as the others. At length the door of the retiring-room was thrown open, and with even firmer step and longer stride, and more heroic gait than usual, the Professor with his flowing gown and streaming locks advanced to the desk, and began the lecture. After a hasty recapitulation of the subjects discussed in previous lectures, he proceeded somewhat thus ; I can give but the feeblest sketch of the lecture : — j62 memoir of JOHN IVTLSOiV. '"Towards the close of yesterday's lecture we came to the con- sideration of another active principle, " The Love of Power," and we remarked on the frequent corruption and melancholy degradation of genius through an inordinate love of power. The origin of this love of power is found in the feeling of pleasure which uniformly, and in a proportionably greater or less degree, attends the con- sciousness of possessing power. Even in lower creation we see this feeling of pleasure shown. The eagle evidently enjoys a deep sensation of pleasure as he cuts his unmarked path through the storm-tossed clouds. The horse also, when in the fulness of his strength he hastens o'er the course, outstripping all his rivals, is a supremely happy as well as an exquisitely beautiful animal. The child, too, attains a never-failing source of pleasure on his first consciousness of possessing powers, and he is overwhelmed with grief and vexation when he meets with any obstacle which presents an insurmountable obstruction to his free and unfettered exercise of these powers. "'All the principles which the human being possesses have been given to him for the purpose of enabling him to fight his way through scenes of trouble, and difficulty, and danger, and it has been also wisely decreed that the exercise of these principles or powers, when crowned with success, should afford him pleasure. The woodsman who is engaged in felling pines in the awful depths of the American forest, derives pleasure from the consciousness of power, as he sees giant after giant laid low at his feet by the prowess of his own unaided arm, at the same time that he is use- fully employed in clearing out a domain for the support, it may be, of his wife and family. The lonely hunter feels a pleasure in his powers as he brings down the towering bird of Jove by his unerring ball, or as he meets a boar in deadly conflict, and drains the heart's blood of the brute with his spear. The savage fisherman of the fax north, as he goes in his frail canoe to pursue the most perilous of all enterprises, feels a pleasure in his powers, as he triumphs by the skill of his rude harpoon over even the mightiest denizens of the deep. The peasant from his conscious feeling of manly power in every muscle of his stalwart frame derives pleasure, and, at the same time, the ability to sustain all the trials and conquer all the THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 263 difficulties which cross him on his toil-worn path. The life of the scholar is as much a life of difficulty as the life of the traveller who plods on his way through unknown countries, and requires in a high degree the sense of power to cheer and sustain him on his course ; for we all know that conquests in the kingdom of intelli- gence are not to be won by one day's battle. ... "'If the mind needs support in its search after virtue, it must much more need it in the ordinary business and pursuits of life. *" To be weak is miserable doing or suffering. . . . "'It has often occurred to us that the most debased and humili- ating state in which human nature could be found, is that where men have calmly bowed themselves under the disadvantages in which nature has seen fit originally to place them, without a single stout-hearted effort to relieve themselves from them, as, for instance, in the case of the inhabitants of New Holland, as they were described by those who first visited the island. And what a con- trast is visible between their character and that of the North American Indians vanquishing the feeling of pain in their breasts by the strength of their unconquerable wills; "the Stoics of the wood, the men without a tear." '"Let us picture to our mind's eye a pampered Sybarite, nursed in all the wantonness of high-fed luxury, dallying on a downy sofa, amid all the gorgeousness of ornamental tapestry, listening to the soft sounds of sweetest music playing in his ears ; his eyes satiated with pleasure in contemplating the enchanting pictures that decorate the walls, and the beautiful statues which in pleasing variety fill up the distant vistas of his palace; whose rest would be broken, whose happiness would be spoiled, by the doubling of the highly scented rose-leaf that lies beneath him on his silken couch. Let us by the magic power of imagination transport this man to the gloomy depths of an American forest, where the dazzling glare of a bright fire instantly meets his eye. If he does not forthwith ignominiously expire at the first view, suppose him to survey the characters who compose or fill up the busy scene around it. The barbarous savages of one tribe have taken captive the chief of another engaged in deadly hostilities with them. They have not impaled him alive. That would be to consign him too speedily to unhearing death. 264 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. But they have tied him fast with bands made of the long and lithe forest grass, which yields not quickly to the fire. They have placed him beside the pile which they kindle with fiendish satisfaction, and feed with cautious hand, well knowing the point or pitch to raise it to, which tortures but not speedily consumes. They have exhausted all their energy in uttering a most diabolical yell, on witnessing their victim first feel the horrid proofs of their resentment, and now seated on the grass around, they look on in silence. The chief stands firm with unflinching nerve; his long eye-la->hes are scorched off, but his proud eye disdains to wink ; his dark raven locks have all perished, but there is not a wrinkle seen on his forehead. From the crown of his head to the sole of his foot his skin is one con- tinued blister, but the courage of his soul remains unshaken, and quails not before the tormenting pain. The Sybarite has expired at the mere sight ; his craven heart has ceased to beat. The Indian hero stands firm. There is even a smile on his sadly marred cheek, and it is not the smile which is extorted by excruciating pain, and forms the fit accompaniment of a groan, but he smiles with joy as he chants his death-song. He thinks with pride and joy on the heroic deeds he has performed; how he has roamed from sunset to sunrise through the forest depths, and changed the sleep of his foeman into death. He beholds on all sides dancing around him the noble spirits of his heroic ancestors ; and nearest to him, and almost, he imagines, within reach of his embrace, he sees the ghost of his father, who first put into his hand and taught him the use of the scalping-knife and tomahawk ; who has come from the heavens far beyond the place of mountains and of clouds to quaff the death-song, and to welcome to the land of the great hereafter the spirit of his undegenerate son. The chief is inflamed with a glorious rapture that exalts him beyond the sensation of pain, and conquers agony. " He holds no parley with unmanly fears." "The son of Alcnomon has ceased to endure ; He consented to die, but he scorned to complain." "'It seems a duty incumbent on us all to think well of ourselves and of our powers. But then comes the question. Where falls the limit to be fixed at which this feeling must cease? We answer, THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 265 Nature and the real necessities of life discover to a man the actual extent of his powers. Nature, reality, and truth, are the only tests. . . . '"To show that the innate consciousness of power often sustains a person amidst severely trying difficulties, we may relate a well- authenticated anecdote of Nelson. When a very young man in the rank of midshipman, he was returning from India on sick leave, with his health broken by the climate, and his spirits depressed by the feeling that he was cast off from his profession, and that he could never rise further in it. Sitting one day solitarily, meditating on all this, his thoughts reverted to the great naval heroes who had fought and won his country's battles, and gained for England the empire of the deep ; when a bright ray of hope seemed to shine before him, that filled his soul with intense pleasure, and made him ex- claim : " I will be a hero : England will not cast me off; England's king will be my patron and my friend." He often after spoke of this ray which did indeed blaze forth, and lighted his path to renown, till the noble watchword of Trafalgar insured his last and crowning triumph, and the name of Nelson was known as widely as the name of England.' " This faint sketch taken at the time may serve, widi all its im- perfections, to give some idea of the substance of this noble lecture, but it cannot convey to any not present the slightest conception of the transcendent power and overwhelming eloquence with which it was delivered, or of its electrifying effects upon the audience. The whole soul of the man seemed infused into his subject, and to be rushing forth with resistless force in the torrent of his rapidly-rolling words. As he spoke, his whole frame quivered with emotion. He evidently saw the scene he described, and such was the sympathetic force of his strong poetic imagination, that he made us, whether we would or not, see it too. Now dead silence held the class captive. In the interval of his words you would have heard a pin fall. Again, at some point, the applause could not be restrained, and was vociferous. Especially when the dying scene in his description of the North American Indian's virtues reached its glorious con- summation, the cheers were again and again repeated by every voice, till the roof rang again, and Su- William Hamilton, not less 266 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. enthusiastic in his applause than the very youngest of the students behind him, actually stood up and clapped his hands with evident delight and approbation. " I have heard some of the greatest orators of the day, — Lords Derby, Brougham, Lyndhurst ; Peel, O'Connell, Shiel, Follett, Chalmers, Caird, Guthrie, M'Neile; I have heard some of these in their very best styles make some of their most celebrated appear- ances ; but for popular eloquence, for resistless force, for the seem- ing inspiration that swayed the soul, and the glowing sympathy that entranced the hearts of his entire audience, that lecture by Professor Wilson far excelled the loftiest efforts of the best of these I ever listened to, and I have long come to the decided conclusion that if he had chosen the sacred profession, and given his whole heart and soul to his work, he would have raised the fame of pulpit oratory to a pitch far beyond what it ever has reached, and gained a celebrity and success as a preacher second to none in the annals of the Church. "The course was continued in lectures on (i.) Jealousy, which was illustrated by a very splendid and elaborate analysis of the character of Othello, in which the erroneousness of the common idea of the Moor as a mere victim of the green-eyed monster was very clearly and convincingly exhibited; (2.) The Love of Pleasure; (3.) Hope; (4.) Fear; (5.) Happiness or Misery in this life arising from the lower principles of humanity; (6.) Association, discussed at great length and with very great metaphysical acumen, as well as copious illustration; (7.) Imagination, treated in nine most inter- esting lectures; and (8.) Conscience; which, with a full and particular consideration of the various moral systems propounded by ancient and modern philosophy occupied thirty lectures. " In the next division of the course the Affections were explained and illustrated in a series of sixteen lectures, in which all the wealth of poetry and pathos that were at his command had ample scope and glorious display in picturing scenes of domestic and social life, and in drawing from the whole field of literature examples of family affection and heroic patriotism. Thus we had the picture of a family — with all its interpenatrating relations, of the elder members towards the younger, and of the elder towards each other; the THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 267 strong hold which any absent member retains over the affections of all at- home, and the deep reverence and affectionate love with which they all regard the head of the family, — set before us in a manner to rivet attention, by connecting with it a very fine disquisi- tion on Burns's ' Cottar's Saturday Night.' We had the beautiful pictures of filial affection drawn by Sophocles and Shakspere respectively in Antigone and Cordelia, extemporaneously, but most effectively and splendidly described. This extempore lecture was immediately followed up by another, delivered also without the aid of any notes, and of a very strange and discursive character, as the heads of it will show: — 'Antigone — Electra — Clytemnestra — Aga- memnon — ^gisthus — Orestes — Good old Homer who never nods — Ulysses — Achilles — Peleus — The Meeting of Laertes and Achilles — The Lake Poets — South ey and Wordsworth — Apples and Pears — Apple-pie;' but in which the Professor succeeded in demonstrating the vast superiority of the great poets of antiquity, in delineating those simple touches of nature that go to prove the whole world akin. We had then parental affection copiously illus- trated in a series of lectures containing highly-wrought pictures of an outcast mother sitting begging by the wayside, of emigrant mothers about to be devoured in a burning ship, and of Virgil's sketches of Evander and Pallas, and Mezentius and Lausus, as contrasted with Wordsworth's sketch of the ' statesman ' Michael and his son Luke. One whole lecture was devoted to Shakspere's character of Constance, as exhibiting the workings of maternal affection, and another to Priam's going to ransom the body of Hector from Achilles. The paternal affections and friendship were next dealt with in the same interesting manner, with illustrative references to the writings of Jeremy Taylor, Lord Bacon, Cicero> Shakspere, Dugald Stewart, Thomson, and Coleridge. This part of the course was wound up by three very able lectures on Patriot- ism, during the delivery of the last of which one of the few memor- able ' scenes ' during the session occurred in the class. The Pro- fessor had begun the lecture by a very earnest and powerful defence of nationality or patriotism against the attacks of those who prefer a spirit of cosmopolitanism. In the course of this, he had occasion to refer to the views of Coleridge and Chenevix on the character of 268 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. fallen nations, and particularly to the very peculiar relation in which Scotland had long stood to England ; and in dealing with this latter point he was proceeding with the remark, that ' the great Demosthenes of Ireland, the ruler of seven millions of the finest peasantry in the world, had presumed to say at a public meeting that the reason Scotland had never been conquered was that Scot- land had never been worth conquering. I do not know how the lecture as written would have dealt with this charge, for the remark led to an interruption of its delivery. Some Irish students, resent- ing the contemptuous tone in which their great hero was mentioned, and especially taking offence, perhaps justly, at the comical way in which the word ^ pizzantry ' was pronounced, raised first a hiss, and then a howl, which provoked counter-cheering from the more numerous Conservatives present, till the class-room became for a few minutes something Hke Babel or a bear-garden. For a little the Professor looked calmly on ; but at last, fairly roused by the unusual uproar, he threw his notes aside, and drowning all noise by the stentorian pitch of voice in which he repeated the sentence that had provoked it all, he on the spur of the moment burst forth in a most eloquent and effective denunciation of all demagogues, and of all Irish demagogues in particular, showing in return for O'Connell's contemptuous remark about Scotland, the exact number of English pikemen and archers that had sufficed for the total subjugation of Ireland ; and in castigation of those of his students that had hissed him, launching all the shafts of his raillery, and these were both numerous and sharp, at modern Radicalism, and its cant phrase, ' March of Intellect.' The scene was one not to be forgotten. It was the only occasion any expression of political feeling or bias escaped from him; and yet, though bespoke under great excite- ment and with merciless severity, he said nothing that made him less respected and admired even by those who differed from him in his political views. "The course was concluded by a series of about twenty lectures on Natural Theology, in which that subject was treated in a manner altogether worthy of its vast importance. The great writers, both ancient and modern, were reviewed in a highly philosophical and finely appreciatory spirit. The ability of Hume was fully admitted, THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 209 and his arguments met as fairly and successfully as they have ever been ; but the pretensions of Lord Brougham to authority in the matter were called in question, and some of his views severely criticised. The moral attributes of God ; the duties of man to his Maker; religion in the abstract; the immortality and immateriality of the soul ; the moral philosophy of the Greeks, and especially the doctrines of Socrates and Plato, were all handled in a way befitting the grandeur and sacredness of these topics, and so as to impress every student with the depth and earnestness of the Professor's religious views and feelings, as well as with the high-toned morality of his whole mind and temperament. "And now, reviewing generally one's old impressions of the character of the whole course, and qualifying these by the help of subsequent experience and knowledge, there remains a very decided conviction that while the overflowing wealth of poetical reference and illustration, and the somewhat excessive ornamentation of language, were calculated so far to choke and conceal the sys- tematic philosophy of the lectures ; to amuse rather than instruct the students ; to deprave rather than chasten and purify their style of composition ; the high merits and distinguished qualities of the lectures are indisputable, and their tendency to engender free thought, and to encourage large and liberal-minded study of the works of all the greatest authors, were of the most decided and purely beneficial nature. It has been the fashion in certain quarters to decry his lectures as loose and declamatory ; but only with those whose judgment is based on superficial appearances alone, and who are so destitute of everything like sympathy, as to be unable to appreciate excellence that squares not in every point with their pre-conceived idea of it. One indubitable advantage was possessed by all Professor Wilson's students, who had ' eyes to see, and ears to hear,' viz., the advantage of beholding closely the workings of a great and generous mind, swayed by the noblest and sincerest impulses ; and of listening to the eloquent utterances of a voice which, reprobating every form of meanness and duplicity, was ever raised to its loftiest pitch in recommendation of high- souled honour, truth, virtue, disinterested love, and melting charity. It was something, moreover, not without value or good effect, to be 2 70 MEMOIR OF JOHN- IVILSOY. enabled to contemplate, from day to day, throughout a session, the mere outward aspect of one so evidently every inch a man, nay, a king of men, in whom manly vigour and manly beauty of person were in such close keeping with all the great qualities of his soul ; the sight at once carried back the youthful student's imagination to the age of ancient heroes and demigods, when higher spirits walked with men on earth, and made an impression on the opening mind of the most genial and ennobling tendency, " The Professor was not generally supposed to devote much time in private to the business details and work of his class. But all who really worked for him soon discovered the utter erroneousness of this supposition. Every essay given in to him, however juvenile in thought and expression, was read by him with the most patient and judiciously critical care. If any essay afforded proof of pains- taking research or of nascent power, its author was at once invited to the Professor's house, to enjoy the benefit of private conversation, and to be encouraged and directed in his studies. I can never forget an evening which I spent alone with him in such circum- stance, when, after discussing the subject and views of some essay that had taken his fancy, and favouring me with some invaluable hints on these, he launched out into a long and most interesting discourse on most of the great men of his time ; and sent me away at a late hour, not only gratified with his noble frankness of nature and manner, but more than ever convinced of his vast and varied powers in almost every field of knowled-je. Though my intercourse with him was hmited entirely to student life, I retain for him the deepest reverence and love. " ' I cannot deem thee dead ; like the perfumes Arising from Judea's vanish'd shrines, Thy voice still floats around me ; nor can tombs A thousand from my memory hide the lines Of beauty, on thine aspect which abode, Like streaks of sunshine pictured there by God.'" The following account of his last year's professional work (the session 1850-185 1) is furnished by the medallist of the year :* — * Mr Alexander Taylor Innes, who says in reference to that distinction : He was specially kind to me, as the youngest who had ever attained that honour, much coveted at that time as coming from himself: for when the University offered to give THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 271 "The first thing that every one remarked on entering his class, was how thoroughly he did his proper work as a Professor of Moral Philosophy. This is not generally known now, and was not even at the time. There was a notion that he was there Christopher North, and nothing else ; that you could get scraps of poetry, bits of sentiment, flights of fancy, flashes of genius, and anything but Moral Philosophy. Nothing was further from the truth in that year 1850. In the very first lecture he cut into the core of the subject, raised the question which has always in this country been held to be the hardest and deepest in the science (the origin of the Moral Faculty), and hammered at it through the great part of the session. Even those who were fresh from Sir William Hamilton's class, and had a morbid appetite for swallowing hard and angular masses of logic, found that the work here was quite stitf enough for any of us. It was not till the latter part of the session, in his lectures on the Affections and the Imagination, that he adopted a looser style of treatment, and wandered freely over a more inviting field. But it is not enough to say that he was thoroughly con- scientious in presenting to his students the main questions for their consideration ; I am bound to add that he was also thoroughly successful. It is well known that his own doctrine (though it was never quite fixed, and he stated publicly to his class at the close of his last session that he had all along been conscious there was some gap in it) was opposed to the general Scotch system of Moral Philosophy. His Eudaimonism was in fact a sublimed Utilitarian- ism ; so refined and sublimed that it might have appeared quite a fair course to have avoided discussing those metaphysical and psychological questions which lie at the roots of the general controversy. He did not follow this course. On the contrary, he laid bare the whole question : Whether conscience be a product of experience, or an original and intuitive faculty, with a frankness and fairness which are exceedingly rare, and which impressed most those who most differed from him ; and at the same time with a perception of the status qucBstionis, how it bore on all that followed, and how the teaching of each philosopher bore upon it, which a prize to his class, he declined to discontinue his own, and still year by year awarded " Professor Wilson's Gold MeJal,' giving the other separately or cumulatively." 272 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. makes me regard his lectures as the most comprehensive, and indeed the most valuable thing in our language on this particular question, with the single exception of Sir James Mackintosh's Dissertation. " His appearance in his class-room it is far easier to remember than to forget. He strode into it with the professor's gown hanging loosely on his arms, took a comprehensive look over the mob of young faces, laid down his watch so as to be out of the reach of his sledge-hammer fist, glanced at the notes of his lecture (generally written on the most wonderful scraps of paper), and then, to the bewilderment of those who had never heard him before, looked long and earnestly out of the north window, towards the spire of the old Tron Kirk ; until, having at last got his idea, he faced round and uttered it with eye and hand, and voice and soul and spirit, and bore the class along with him. As he spoke, the bright blue eye looked with a strange gaze into vacancy, sometimes sparkling with a coming joke, sometimes darkening before a rush of indignant eloquence; the tremulous upper lip curving with every wave of thought or hint of passion, and the golden-grey hair floating on the old man's mighty shoulders — if indeed that could be called age, which seemed but the immortality of a more majestic youth.* And occasionally, in the finer frenzy of his more imaginative passages — as when he spoke of Alexander, clay-cold at Babylon, with the world lying conquered around his tomb, or of the High- land hills, that pour the rage of cataracts adown their riven cliffs, or even of the human mind, with its 'primeval granitic truths,' the grand old face flushed with the proud thought, and the eyes grew dim with tears, and the magnificent frame quivered with a universal emotion. * Of the " discipline in his class " in 1830, alluded to by Mr Burton, Mr Nicolson says, twenty years later: — "I shall never forget the foolish appearance presented one day in the class by an unmannerly fellow, who rose from his seat about ten minutes from the close of the hour, and proceeded to the door. He found some difficulty in opening it, and was returning to his place, when the professor beckoned him to his desk, and stooping down, asked, in that deep tone of his, kindly, but with a touch of irony in the question, ' Are you unwell, sir?' ' No, sir,' was the answer. 'Then you will have the kindness to wait till the close of the lecture." The experi- ment of leaving the class before the termination of the hour was not likely to be again attempted, after such an exhibition." THE PROFESSOR AND HIS CLASS. 273 " It was something to have seen Professor Wilson — this all confessed ; but it was something also, and more than is generally understood, to have studied under him." 2 74 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. CHAPTER XI. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFB. 1820-26. In July 18 1 9 the following announcement appeared in the Book- lists, " In the press, ' Lays from Fairy Land,' by John Wilson, author of 'The Isle of Palms,'" etc. " Doth grief e'er sleep in a Fairy's breast? Are Dirges sung in the land of Rest ? Tell us, when a fairy dies, Hath she funeral obsequies? Are all dreams there, of woe and mirth. That trouble and delight on earth?" In the Magazine for January 1820 one of these lays was pub- lished, and it seemed as if the formula, " in the press," really meant something was then preparing for publication, which I believe is all that it generally conveys to the initiated. Beyond that, however, the Lays, if ever in the press, did not show themselves out of it.* From dreams of Fairy Land the author had been roused to the unromantic realities of Deacon Paterson and his green bag. The sober certainty of a course of Moral Philosophy lectures took the place of poetic visions, and the " folk of peace " seem thenceforth to have vanished from his view, so far at least as singing about them was concerned. The explanation is cleverly given in the lines of Ensign O'Doherty, in the Magazine for 182 1, when the Professor was doubtless still hard at work on the Passions and * Unless I except a previous poem, "The Fairies, a Dream-like Remembrance of a Dream," in the Magazine for April 1818, with the signature of N., evidently his. The subject was a favourite one with him. In one of his Essays there is a very beautiful and fanciful description of a fairies' burial. — See also Works, vol. vi., p. 340. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 275 the Moral Faculty. After "touching off " various other poets, he says : — " Let Wilson roam to Fairy-land, but that's An oldish story : I'll lay half-a-crown The tiny elves are smothered in his gown." But though the heavy duties of his first session put an end for the time to all other occupations, his literary activity was rather stimulated than otherwise by his elevation to the chair. Witli trifling exceptions his literary labours were confined exclusively to to Blackwood's Magazine, and their extent may be guessed from the fact, that for many years his contributions were never fewer, on an average, than two to each number. I believe that, on more than one occasion, the great bulk of the entire contents of a number was produced by him during the currency of a month. No periodical probably was ever more indebted to the efforts of one individual than "Maga" was to Wilson. His devotion to it was unswerving, and whether his health were good or bad, his spirits cheerful or depressed, his pen never slackened in its service. He became identified with its character, its aims, and its interests; and wearing, as it did, such strong marks of a controlling individuality, it was naturally believed to be under the editorial sway of the hand that first subscribed the formidable initials of " Christopher North." The first conception of that remarkable personage was, however, as purely mythical as the " Shepherd " of the Nodes, and " C. N.'' notes and criticisms were freely supplied by other hands, under the direction of the really responsible editor, Mr Blackwood. As my father gradually invested his imaginary ancient with more and more of his personal attributes and experiences, the identification became more complete, till at length John Wilson and Christopher North were recognised as names synonymous. Any repudiation of the editorial character essentially associated with the latter was thence forth regarded as but a part of the system of mystification which had distinguished the Magazine from the beginning. But it was true, nevertheless, that the reins of practical government were throughout in the hands of the strong-minded and sagacious pub- lisher. It lay with him to insert or reject, to alter or keep back • and though of course at all times open to the advice and influence 276 MEMOIR OF -JOHN WILSON. of his chief contributors, his was no merely nominal management, as even they were sometimes made to experience. The relation between him and my father, considering the char- acter of the two men, was not a little remarkable, and it did equal credit to both. Wilson's allegiance to the Magazine was steady and undivided. He could not have laboured for it more faithfully had it been his own property.* This itself would suffice to prove high qualities in the man who owned it. Mere self-interest does not bind men in such perfect mutual consideration and confidence as subsisted between them throughout their lives. It required on both sides true manliness and generosity, combined with tact and forbearance, and every kind feeling that man can show to man. Blackwood's belief in Wilson was unbounded, not simply from admiration of his great powers, but because he knew that he could rely on him to the utmost, both as a contributor and a friend. Wilson's respect and affection for Mr Blackwood were equally sincere and well founded ; and when he followed him to the grave, he felt that no truer friend remained behind. It is pleasant to be able to say that these relations of mutual esteem and confidence were continued uninterrupted after the Magazine came into the hands of Mr Blackwood's sons, who were able to appreciate the genius and the labour that had done so much to make their own and their father's name famous throughout the world. In the miscellaneous correspondence that follows, extendmg over many years, the reader will gather an idea of my father's varied relations, and of the general tenor of his life ; but before passing from the subject at present, mention may here be made of the publication in 1822 of a volume of his prose compositions, under the title of " Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, a selection from the papers of the late Arthur Austin." Some of these had appeared in Blackwood under the signature " Eremus," which will also be found aftixed to several poems in the very early numbers of the Magazine. These beautiful tales have acquired a popularity of the most enduring kind. They are, indeed, poems in prose, in which, * " Of all the writers in it (the Magazine), I have done viost for the least remunera- tion, though Mr B. and I have never once had one word of disagreement on that subject."— MS. letter of Wilson, dated 1833. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 277 amid fanciful scenes and characters, the struggles of humanity are depicted with pathetic fidelity, and the noblest lessons of virtue and religion are interwoven, in no imaginary harmony, with the homely realities of Scottish peasant life. The emoluments of his new position, combined with his literary earnings, enabled him, after a few years, to remove from his house in Ann Street to a more commodious residence at no great distance. He was also in a position once more to take up his summer quarters in his beautiful villa at EUeray, the place which he loved above all others on earth; and in the summer of 1823 we find him there, with his wife and children, again under the old roof-tree. After the labours of the College session, and so long a separation from a spot so dear to him, it was not unnatural that he should crave some relaxation from work ; and in spite of his publisher's desire to hear from him, the study for a time was deserted for the fields. He was in the habit of sauntering the whole day long among the woods and walks of EUeray. This delightful time, however, had its interrup- tions. The indefatigable publisher writes letter after letter, remind- ing him that the Magazine and its readers must be fed. Mr Blackwood's letters discover the shrewd and practical man of business, temperate in judgment, and reasonable, though a little too much inclined sometimes to the use of strong epithets — a habit too common with literary men of that day, but now fortunately out of fashion. From these letters may be gathered the true relation of Wilson to Blackwood! s Magazine. On the 15th of May he says : — " My dear Sir, — For nearly a week I have either been myself, or had one of my sons waiting the arrival of the Carlisle mail, as I never doubted but that you would give me your best help this month. It never was of so much consequence to me, and I still hope that a parcel is on the way. " That I may be able to wait till the last moment for anything of yours, I am keeping the Magazine back, and have resolved to let it take its chance of arrival by not sending it off till the 28th, when it will go by the steamboat; this will just allow it time to be delivered on the 31st, and if no accident occur, it will be in time. " I wrote you on the 3d with Waugh's Review, and a few other 278 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. things. I wrote you again with the periodicals on the 6th. Both parcels were directed according to your letter, to be forwarded by Ambleside coach by Mr or Mr Jackson. I hope you have received them and the former parcel. " Qiienfin Durward is to be out on Tuesday, when I will send it to you. Reginald * is not quite finished, but will be all at press in a day or two. Mr Lockhart has done Barry Cornwall f and Tim's | Viscount Soligny in good style. My not hearing from you, how- ever, discourages him, and I fear much this number will not be at all what I so confidently expected it would have been. " I shall be happy to hear that you are all well again. — I am, my dear Sir, yours truly, W. Blackwood." About this time Mr Leigh Kunt was advised to threaten legal proceedings against the London publisher of the Magazine, Mr Cadell, who appears to have been greatly alarmed by this prospect, not having been quite so accustomed to that species of intimation as Mr Blackwood. He accordingly wrote to Edinburgh, giving a very grave and circumstantial account of the visit he had received from Mr Hunt's solicitor. Mr Blackwood and his contributors took I the matter much more coolly, as may be seen from the following I letter from Mr Lockhart, whose concluding advice is eminently 1 characteristia Indeed, all Mr Lockhart's letters to my father, as will be seen, are marked by the satirical power of the man — piquant, racy, gossiping, clever, and often affectionate and sincere : — "Edinburgh, Friday, June, 1823, "My dear Professor, — Blackwood sends you by this post a copy of the second letter from Cadell, so that you know, ere you read this, as much of the matter as I do. I " I own that it appears to me impossible ive should at this time of day suffer it to be said that any man who wishes in a gentlemanly * Reginald Dalton. By Mr Lockhart. + The Flood 0/ Thessaly, ike Girl of Provmce, and other Poems. By Barry Cornwall. 8vo. + A soubriquet for Mr Patmore, the reputed author of Letters on England. By Victor Count de Soligny. 2 vols. 1823 ; and My Friends and Acquaintances. 3 vols. 1854. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 279 way to have our names should not have them. I own that I would rather suffer anything than have a Cockney crow in that sort. But still there is no occasion for rashness, and I do not believe Hunt had that sort of view ; at all events, he has not acted as if he had. " My feeling is that in the next number of the Magazine there should be a note to this effect : — ' A certain London publisher has been making some vague and unintelligible inquiries at the shop of our London publisher. If he really wishes to communicate with the author of the article which has offended him, let him not come double-distilled through the medium of booksellers, but write at once to the author of the article in question (he may call him N.B. for the present), under cover to Mr Blackwood, 17 Princes Street, Edinburgh. He will then have his answer.' "Whether such a notification as this should or not be sent previously I doubt — but incline to the negative ; at all events, the granting of it will save our credit ; and as for Hunt, how stands the matter? First, Suppose he wishes to bring an action against the author; against you he has no action, and that he knows; but you would probably give him no opportunity of bringing one; at least, poor as I am, I know I would rather pay anything than be placarded as the defendant in such an action, zdly, Suppose he wishes to challenge the author. He cannot send a message to you, having printed the last number of the Liberal* Therefore, either way, the affair must come to nought ; I mean as to anything serious. " Blackwood is going to London next week, and will probably visit you on the way, when you and he can talk over this fully; but ere then I confess I should like to have your consent to print such a note as I have mentioned. I cannot endure the notion of these poltroons crowing over us ; and being satisfied that no serious con- sequences ca7i result, I do think the thing ought to be done. Read Cadell's letter, and think of it, and write me. "Above all, for God's sake, be you well and hearty ! Who the devil cares for Cockneydom? Write a good article, and take a couple of tumblers. — Yours, afifly, J. G. L." * The number of the Liberal, I presume, containing an article on the Scottish character, in which the Blackwood writers are compared to "a troop of Yahoos, or a tribe of satyrs." 28o MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. ^' P.S. — Reginald Dalton* is doing very well. The London subscription was 831, which Ebony thought great for a three-volume affair. In a new magazine (Knight's) set up by the 'Etonians,' there is an article on Lt\hts aiid Shadows, Adam Blair, etc., in which you are larded tolerably, and but tolerably, and the poor Scorpion still more scurvily treated. It is their opening article and their best. The choice exhibits weakness and conscious weakness. No other news. Rich and Poor\ is a clever book, but very method istical. I have read about half of it. I will write you a long letter, if you will write me anything at all." A fragment of a letter from Mr Lockhart, written about the same time, contains, like all his effusions, something very racy and charac- teristic. His expressions of ini'^rest with regard to Mrs Wilson's health are more than friendly. The first few lines of this fragment refer to a paper in Blackwood's Magazine for July 1823, ''On the Gormandizing School of Eloquence," " No. I. Mr D. Abercromby." In such scraps as this we find the salt which flavoured his letters, and without which he could not have written : — " Who is Mr D. Abercromby ? You have little sympathy for a a brother glutton. What would you think of the Gormandizing School, No. II. 'Professor John Wilson?' I could easily toss off such an article if you are anxious for it, — taking one of the dilettante dinners, perhaps, and a speech about Michael Angelo by David Bridges,! for the materials. No. III. 'Peter Robertson;' No. IV- 'Wull.' Miss Edgeworth is at Abbotsford, and has been for some time; II a little, dark, bearded, sharp, withered, active, laughing, * Reginald Dalton and Adam Blair were anonymous novels written by Mr Lockhart. t Rich and Poor, and Common Events, a continuation of the former anonymous novels, which were ascribed to Miss Annie Walker. X Mr David Bridges, dubbed by the Blackwood wits, "Director-General of the Fine Arts." For a description of his shop, which was much resorted to by artists, see Peter s Letters, vol. ii. p. 230. II Miss Edgeworth's visit was in August 1823. "Never did I see a brighter day at Abbotsford than that on which Miss Edgeworth first arrivee? there ; never can I forget her look and accent when she was received by him at his archway, and ex- claimed, ' Everything about you is exactly what one ought to have had wit enough to dream,'" — Scott's Life. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 281 talking, impudent, fearless, outspoken, honest, Whiggish, unchristian, good-tempered, kindly, ultra-Irish body. I like her one day, and damn her to perdition the next. She is a very queer character ; particulars some other time. She, Sir Adam,* and the Great Unknown, are ' too much for any company.' Tom Purdie is well, and sends his compts. ;t so does Laidlaw.J I have invited Hogg to dine here to-morrow, to meet Miss Edgeworth. She has a great anxiety to see the Bore. " If you answer this letter, I shall write you a whole budget of news next week ; if not, I hope to see you and Mrs Wilson in good health next 12th of November, till when I shall remain your silent and affectionate brother-glutton. J. G. Lockhart. * Sir Adam Fergusson, the school-fellow of Scott, died on Christmas day 1854. Mr Chambers remarks, in a biographical sketch of the good old knight, published shortly after his death, that "many interesting and pleasant memories hovered around the name of this fine old man, and in his removal from the world, one im- portant link between the Old and the New is severed. It will be almost startling to our readers to hear that there lived so lately one who could say he had sat on the knee of David Hume. He was about a year older than Sir Walter. + Scott's faithful servant, and affectionately devoted, humble friend, from the time that Tom was brought before Sir Walter in his capacity as Sheriff on a charge of poaching, and promoted into his service, till his death, which took place in 1829. A full account of his peculiarities will be found in Lockhart's Life of Scott. % William, or, as he was always called, Willie Laidlaw, was the factor and friend of Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford, and latterly his amanuensis ; and in this case "the manly kindness and consideration of one noble nature was paralleled by the affectionate devotion and admiration of another." His family still retains as sacred the pens with which he wrote Ivanhoe to his master's dictation ; and he used to tell that at the most intense parts of the story, when Scott happened to pause, which he very seldom did, running off, as he said, "like lintseed oot o' a pock," Laidlaw eagerly asked, "What next?" "Ay, Willie man, what next! that's the deevil o't!" so possessed with the reality of the tale was the busy penman. It is a curious subject how much and how little an author such as Scott can control his own creatures. If they live and move, they possess him often as much as he them. That " shaping spirit " within him is by turns master and slave. Some one asked the consummate author of Esmond, ' ' Why did you let Esmond marry his mother-in-law ? " " I ! it wasn't I ; they did it themselves." Of his Lucy's Flitting, my father said, " "Tis one of the sweetest things in the world : not a few staves of his have I sung in the old days when we used to wash our faces in the Douglas Bum, and you, James, were the herd in the hill. Oh me ! those sweet, sweet days o' langsyne, Jamie, Here's Willie Laidlaw's health, gentle- men ! " — Nodes. Mr Laidlaw died in 1845. 2S2 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. JSf.B. — Hodge-podge is in glory; also Fish. Potatoes damp and small. Mushrooms begin to look up. Limes abundant. Weather just enough to make cold punch agreeable. Miss Edgeworth says Peter Robertson is a man of genius, and if on the stage, would be a second Liston. How are the Misses Watson? Give my love to Miss Charlotte when you see her; and do let me know what passed between you and the Stamp-Master,* the Opium-Eater, etc., etc. LL.D. Southey is, I suppose, out of your beat." The remaining portion of this season spent at Elleray, contri- buted (as appears by allusions in the following letters) not a small share of its occupations to the satisfaction and gratitude of Mr Blackwood : — Edinburgh, September 6, 1823. " My Dear Sir, — I hope you would receive the coach parcel yesterday or to-day, and I expect I shall have the pleasure of receiving a packet from you by Monday or Tuesday. Being so anxious to make this a very strong number, I have put nothing up yet till I see what you and Mr Lockhart send me. He is to send me something on Monday, and if I receive Hayley* in time, I intend to begin the Number with it. I have time yet, as this is only the 6th, but in the beginning of the week I must be getting on. I rely so confidently upon you doing all that you can, that I feel quite at ease, at least as much as ever I can be till I see the last forme fairly made up. I have not received the continuation of your brother's article ; Mr Robert promised to write him as he is still in the West. Dr Mylne told me to-day that he had met him a few days ago at Lord John Campbell's, and that he was pretty well. "Your friend, Mr Lowndes from Pai.'ilfiy, was inquiring for you here to-day. I had a letter this morning from Mr Blair, in which he apologizes for not having fulfilled his engagement, and says, ' It has not been neglect of your claims, to which I have devoted both time and labour, but a complete want of success in everything I * Wordsworth. t A review of Hayley's Memoirs, Art, X. September 1823. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 283 have attempted. I should have written you some apology, but that I had always hopes of completing something before another month, and the only reason I had for sending nothing, seemed almost too absurd to write. I know nothing else I can say till I have something else than excuses to send. I am at this moment engaged on an essay on a question of language, which I shall be glad if I can send for your number now going on, and I have been making remarks on " Hunter's Captivity among the Indians," with the intention of reviewing it, which I shall go on with if I hear nothing from you to the contrary.' " He gives me no address, but merely dates his letter Dudley. Perhaps you will write him, and tell him not to be over-fastidious, and point out to him something he should do. I have sent Mi L[ockhart] to-day Alaric's* paper, in which there is a grand puff ot 'Maga;' he will forward it to you. " Maginn writes me in high glee about this number, and says he will send something. I hope I shall have the pleasure of hearing from you very soon, and I am, my dear sir, yours very truly, W. Blackwood." "Saturday Morning, September 20, 1823. "My dear Sir, — Before coming home last night I got all to press, so that I will be able to send you a complete copy of the Number with this, by the mail to-day. You will, I hope, find it a very good one, and though not equal in some respects to No. 79, it is superior in some others. On Wednesday morning I did not expect to have got this length, nor to have had it such a number. By some mistake I did not get back from Mr L[ockhart] till Wednesday afternoon the slips of O'Doherty on Don Juan and Timothy Tickler. Not hearing from you or him on Tuesday morning, I made up Doubleday's ' Picturesque 't with Crewe's ' Blunt,' I and ' Bartlemy Fair,' by a new correspondent, whom I shall tell you about before I have done ; and not knowing how I might be able to make up the Number, I put in Mr St Barbe's * Alaric A. Watts, then editor of the Leeds Intellige}icer. + Art. I in the Number. X Art. 2, a review of Blunt's Vestiges 0/ Ancient Manners, etc. 284 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. ' Gallery,' * and ' The poor Man-of- War's Man,' both of which had been in types for three or four months. There being no time to lose, I got these four formes to press ; I wish now I had waited another day, and kept ' The Man-of-War's Man,' but still I hope it will pass muster, and I hope you will read it without prejudice. You will naturally be saying, Why did I not, when run in such difficulty, make up and put to press your articles on , and the Murderers? Here I am afraid you will blame me, but first hear me. When I first read your terrible scraping of 1 enjoyed it excessively, but on seeing it in types, I began to feel a little for the poor monster, and above all, when I considered that it might perhaps so irritate the creature as to drive him to some beastly personal attack upon you, I thought it better to pause. J felt quite sure that if published in its present state, he would be in such a state of rage, he would at all events denounce you everywhere as the author. This would be most unpleasant to your feelings, for now that one can look at the article coolly, there are such coarseness and personal things in it as one would not like to hear it said that you were the author of. There was no time for me to write you with a slip, and I sent it to Mr , begging him to consider it, and write me if he thought he could venture to make any alterations. I did not get his packet till Wednesday, and he then wrote that he could not be art or part in the murder of his own dedicator. In these circumstances, I thought it safest to let the article be for next number, that you might correct it yourself I hope you will think I have done right, and I would anxiously entreat of you to read the article as if it were written by some other person. Few of the readers of ' Maga * know and weak minds would be startled by some of your strong expressions.t It was chiefly on account of the length of the extracts that I delayed the ' Murderers,' as the extracts from Don yuan and Cobbett are so very long. The extracts in your article will make eight or nine pages. They are not set up, but I have got them all correctly copied out, and I return you the book. I am not very sure, however, if these horrid details are the kind of reading that the general readers of 'Maga' would like to have. * Art. 4, 'Time's Whispering Gallery.' f These good advices were not lost on the writer. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIIE. 28 5 Curious and singular they certainly are ; but then the number lies on the drawing-room table, and goes into the hands of females and young people, who might be shocked by such terrible atrocities, but you will judge of this yourself.* Before I received Mr L.'s MS., I had also made up a very singular story of a suicide, which I received from London, from a person who merely signs himself 'Titus.' O'Doherty's note is by Mr L. I also wished him to try to make some little alterations in the article, and perhaps add a C.N. note. He had not time, however, to do either the one or the other. Write me what you think of the article, as I fear it will be apt to startle weak minds. However, there is so much talent in it, that I think it will be hked, but not having more I delayed it 'London Oddities' is by Mr Croly. Timothy, No. 9,' by Dr Maginn. 'No. 10' by Mr L. 'Andrew Ardent,' by Stark, and the Answer by Mr C. Never was anything better than your * General Question,' though there are some strong things in it, which you had written in a real savage humour, and which will make certain good folks stare. The ' Director-General ' and tbe * Prize Dissertation ' are capital bits. ' Heaven and Hell ' no one could have done but yourself. After getting all these made up, I found I had got ten pages beyond my quantity ; and as I could not leave out the small letter this month, I had no room for your articles on ' Tennant ' and ' Martin.' I enclose the slips of ' Ten- nant,' but I have not got ' Martin ' set up yet. When you noticed Gait's ' Ringan Gilhaize,' you would recollect, I daresay, Double- day's ' Tragedy.' I wish much you could give half an hour to it, which would suffice. He has not said much ; but in two or three of his letters he has inquired, in his quiet way, if we were not going to have some notice of his Tragedy in ' Maga.' As you probably have not a copy with you, I enclose one, in case you should be tempted to take it up. By the by, the Old Driveller is actually doing an article on ' Ringan Gilhaize.' I have seen him several times lately, and a few days ago, when he stopped half an hour in his carriage at the door, he told me he would give me his remarks on it very soon. I am truly thankful he has not thought of laying his pluckless paws on 'Reginald Dalton.' There really ought to * The " Murderers " did not appear. 286 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. be a splendid article on Reginald. I shall be very anxious till I hear from you how you like this number. W. Blackwood." "Edinburgh, October, i8, 1823. "My Dear Sir, — This has been a busy and a happy week with me. Every night almost have I been receiving packets from you, and yesterday's post brought me the manifesto, which, you will see, closes so gloriously this glorious number. "It is indeed a number worthy of the ever-memorable month of October. Though I have given twelve pages extra, besides keeping out the lists, I am obliged to keep ' Wrestliana' for next month. " I have been terribly hurried to get all to press, but I hope you find your articles pretty correct. I took every pains I could. " I hope you will write me so soon as you have run through the number, and tell me how you like it. There is so much of your own that your task will be the easier. 'Tennant' is a delightful article, and will make the little man a foot higher. Hogg is beyond all praise, and he will be a most unreasonable porker if he attempt to raise his bristles in any manner of way. I prefixed 'See Nodes Ambrosiance,' and wrote Mr L, to insert a few words more in the Nodes with regard to it. He did not, however, think this neces- sary. Every one will be in raptures with ' Isaac Walton ;' and the Nodes is buoyant, brilliant, and capital, from beginning to end. Well might you say that the ' Manifesto'* was very good. I shall weary till I have a letter from you telling me all about the number, and when you think you will be here. " I enclose you a copy of a letter I had from Mr Blair a few days ago, with two articles. The one on Language seems very curious, but it is so interlined and corrected, that I must send him a proof of it, and desire him to send me the conclusion, as it would be a pity to divide it. The other article is an account ot Raymond LuUi. It is in his sister's handwriting, and is very amusing, but there was not room for it, and it will answer equally well next month. * A short article, chiefly addressed to Charles Lamb, on his exaggerated dis- pleasure at a critical observation bv Southey. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 287 " I do not know what on the face of the earth to do with the old Driveller's critique on ' Ringan Gilhaize.' Whenever I hear a carriage stop, I am in perfect horrors, for I do not know what to say to him. I sent the MS. to Mr L., but he returned it to me, and told me I ought to print it as it is, as it would please both author and critic. " I send it to you in perfect despair, and I would most anxiously entreat of you to read it, and advise me what I should do. It is as wretched a piece of drivelling as ever I read, and I am sure it would neither gratify Gait nor any one else, while it would most certainly injure the Magazine. If you cannot be plagued with doing anything to it, you will at all events return it carefully to me by coach as soon as possible. "I have at last settled with Hook* for Percy Mallory. I hope it will do, though it contains not a little Baalam. There are many inquiries about the ' Foresters.' I hope you are going on. It astonishes even me, what you have done for ' Maga ' this last week, and if you are fairly begun to the ' Foresters,' Stark will soon be driving on with it. " I enclose slips of Mr St Barbe's article, and an amusing one by Titus. With these and Stark's article, besides several others, I have a great deal already for next number. — I am, my dear Sir, yours very truly, W. Blackwood." We come now to the spring of 1824. In the merry month of May the usual happy party filHng "His Majesty's Royal Mail" set out foi the Lakes. Travelling in those days was a matter of more serious consideration than now. The journey to Westmoreland was taken as far as Carlisle per coach ; the remaining distance was posted. The arrival at EUeray generally took place between eight and nine o'clock in the evening, long after sunlight had left the skies. A number of trivial associations are remembered in connexion with the approach to this beloved place. The opening of the avenue- gate was a sound never to be forgotten. The sudden swing of the * Percy Mallory, 3 vols. lamo, published in December 1823. It was written by Dr James Hook, Dean of Worcester, brollier of Theodore Hook. He was also author of Pen Oiueii, etc. Born 1773. died 1828. 288 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. carriage at a particular part of the drive, when it came in contact with the low-lying branches of trees (seldom pruned), dripping with a new-fallen shower of rain, would send a whole torrent of drops upon the expectant faces that were peeping out to catch a first glimpse of the house, which, lighted up, stood on its elevation like a beacon to guide travellers in the dark. This new Elleray was as much indebted to natural position as was the old. Trellised all over, there was no more than the space for windows uncovered by honeysuckle and roses. In a very short time it became as great a favourite as the old cottage ; which, had it been lost sight of altogether, might have been more regretted. A letter from Mr Blackwood will show what the Professor had in contemplation for this summer's work : — "Edinburgh, bth May 1824. " My dear Sir, — I had so much to do yesterday that I had not time to write you ; I hope you got all safe to Elleray, and as the weather is so delightful, I expect to hear in a day or two from you that you have fairly begun to the 'Foresters,'* and are driving on it and everything else to your heart's content. That you m^ay see what T am doing, I send you what I have made up, and the slips of a long article by Dr M'Neill, f which I received a few days ago. I am not sure if there will be room for it in this number, but we shall see. It is curious and valuable. " I wish very much you would wTite a humorous article upon that thin-skinned person Tommy Moore's ' Captain Rock.' This is the way the book should be treated. We have plenty of the serious materiel in Mr R.'s article, and if you would only take up the Captain in your own glorious way, poor Tommy would be fairly dished. As you probably have not the two last numbers of ' Maga ' with you, I enclose them with ' Captain Rock.' " I have not heard from Dr Maginn yet, which I am quite annoyed at. He proposed himself that he would send rae off regularly every Monday a packet under Croker's cover. "W. Blackwood." * Or.e of Wilson's tales. It was not published until the following June, 1825. + The Professor's brother-in-law, now Sir John M'Neill, G.C.B. ; at that time in Persia. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 289 The next letter is from Lockhart, and is of varied interest : — "161 Regent Street, Monday, 1824. "Dear Professor, — Many thanks for your welcome epistle, which, on returning from Bristol yesterday, I found here with ' Maga,' and a note of Blackwood's. By the way, you will be glad to hear I found poor Christie doing well, both in health and business. I spent three very pleasant days with him. I have seen a host of lions, among others, Hook, Canning, Rogers, Croly, Maginn, Captain Morris* (not the Dr), Botherby, Latiy Davy, Lady C. Lamb — **** (I copy these stars from a page in Adam Blair), Miss Baillie, old Gifford, Matthews, Irving, Allan Cunning- ham, Wilkie, Colburn, and Coleridge. The last well worth all the the rest, and 500 more such into the bargain. Ebony should merely keep him in his house for a summer, with Johnny Dowt in a cupboard, and he would drive the windmills before him. I am to dine at Mr Gillman's one of these days. Irving, % you may * Charles Morris, once the idol of clubmen in London, was born in 1745, and died on July II, 1838, ninety-three years of age ! Mr Lockhart's parenthetical reference to the Doctor is, of course, to his own nom de plume as Dr Peter Morris of Pensharpe Hall, Aberystwith. The following allusion to the "Captain" is taken from M. Esquiros' English at Home : — " Among the last names connected with the Beef-steak Club figures that of Captain Morris. He was born in 1745, but survived most of the merry guests whom he amused by his gaiety, his rich imagination, and his poetical follies. He was the sun of the table, and composed some of the most popular English ballads. The Nestor of song, he himself compared his muse to the flying-fish. At the present day his BaccWc strains require the clinking of glass, and the joyous echoes of the Club, of which Captain Morris was poet-laureate. Type of the true Londoner, he preferred town to country, and the shady side of Pall Mall to the most brilliant sun- shine illuminating nature. Toward the end of his life, however, he let himself be gained over by the charms of the rural life he had ridiculed, and retired to a villa at Brockham given him by the Duke of Norfolk. Before starting, he bade farewell to the Club in verse. He reappeared there as a visitor in 1835, and the members pre- sented him with a large silver bowl bearing an appropriate inscription. Although at that time eighty-nine years of age, he had lost none of his gaiety of heart. He died a short time after, and with him expired the glory of the Club of which he had been one of the last ornaments. Only the name has survived of this celebrated gathering where so much wit was expended, but it was of the sort which evaporates with the steam of dishes and bowls of punch." •j" An Edinburgh short-hand writer, J Edward Irving, the celebrated preacher, was at this time sailing onwards on the 20O MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSO.V. depend upon it, is a pure humbug. He has about three good attitudes, and the lower notes of his voice are superb, with a fine manly tremulation that sets women mad as the roar of a noble bull does a field of kine ; but beyond this he is nothing, really nothing. He has no sort of real earnestness, feeble, pumped up, boisterous, overlaid stuff is his staple ; he is no more a Chalmers than * IS a Jeffrey. I shall do an article that will finish him by and by. *** Neither Maginn nor any one else has spoken to me about the concerns and prospects of our friend. My belief is, that he has come over by Croker's advice to assist Theodore in BuU,\ and to do all sorts of bye jobs. I also believe that Croker thinks he him- self will have a place in the cabinet in case of the Duke of York's being King, and of course M looks forward to being snugly set somewhere in that event. It is obvious that Hook, Maginn, and all this set hate Canning ; and indeed a powerful party of high ton (Duke of York at head thereof) is forming itself against the over- conciliation system. I am not able to judge well, but I still believe that Canning is the man no Tory Ministry can do without ; moreover, that the Marquis of Hertford (the great man with Croker's party, and the destined Premier of Frederick i.) has not a character to satisfy the country gentlemen of England. I met Canning at dinner one day at Mr Charles Ellis's; the Secretary asked very kindly after you, and mentioned that ' he had had the pleasure of making acquaintance with Mr Blackwood, a very intelligent man indeed.' I am to dine with him on Saturday, wlien I shall see more of him. He was obviously in a state of exhausted spirits (and strength indeed) when I met him. Rogers told me he knew that Jeffrey was mortally annoyed with Hazlitt's article on the periodicals being in the Edinburgh Review, and that it was put there by Thomas Thomson and John A. Murray, | who were co- full tide of popularity. Mrs Oliphant, in her recent biography, writes thus regarding his famous sermon preached during this year to the London Missionary Society : "There can be little doubt that it was foolishness to most of his hearers, and that after the fascination of his eloquence was over, nine-tenths of them would recollect, with utter wonder, or even wiili possible contempt, that wildest visionary conception." * A well-known Whig lawyer. + The John Bull newspaper, edited by Theodore Hook. X Afterwards Lord Murray. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 291 editors, while 'the king of men' was in Switzerland.* Wordsworth is in town at present, but confined with his eyes. I thought it might appear obtrusive if I called, and have stayed away. John Murray seems the old man; the Quarterly alone sustains him. Maginn says he makes ^4000 per annum off it, after all expenses, and as they really sell 14,000, I can easily credit it. Colburn is making a great fortune by his Library and altogether. I meet no one who ever mentions his magazine but to laugh at it. The No. of Ebony is fair, but not first-rate. Your talk of Murders is ex- quisite, but otherwise the Nodes too local by far. Maginn on Ritter Ban not so good as might be. The article on Matthews (I dont know whose) is just, and excellent criticism. This wedding of James's came on me rather suddenly. Perhaps you will be delayed in Auld Reekie for the sake of witnessing that day's cele- bration. My own motions are still unfixed, but I suspect I shall linger here too long to think of a land journey or the lakes. More likely to make a run in September, and see you in your glory. De Quincey is not here, but expected. — Yours, J. G. L. " I don't hear anything of Matthew Wald here, but I would fain hope it may be doing in spite of that. Ask Blackwood to let me hear anything. Can I do anything for him here ? I am picking up materials for the Baron Lauerwinkel's or some other body's letters to his kinsfolk, 3 vols, post 8vo. Pray write a fir^t-rate but ^rZ-f/puff of Mattheiv for next number B/ackwood, or if not, say so, that I may do it myself, or make the Doctor.! I shall write B one of these days if anything occurs, and at any rate he shall have a letter to C. N. speedily, from Timothy, on the Quarterly or IVesi- tmnster Reviews. A Nodes from me positively." Passing over the various other topics touched on in this letter, how strangely do these words about "Frederick i." now sound * From Mr Irmes's Memoir of Thomas Thomson, I see that the editorship of the Edinburgh Review was left in his hands more than once. "This foremost of Record scholars, .the learned legal antiquarian, and constitutional lawyer" died in 1852, aged eighty-four. f The History of Matthew WalJ, a novel by Mr Lockhart. It was reviewed in the May number of Blackzuood. 292 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. upon the ear! How litttle did the sagacious foresight of pohticians calculate that every day an invisible hand was preparing the crown for a little child of five years of age, and that in the short space of eighteen years, no fewer than five heirs of the royal line should pass away, leaving a clear and uninterrupted passage for the Princess Victoria to the throne of these realms ! The next letter is equally characteristic : — "Abbotsford, Sunday, zd yanuary 1825. " My dear Wilson, — I left London on Wednesday evening, and arrived here in safety within forty-six hours of the ' Bull and Mouth.' "Our friend the Bailie* might probably show you a letter of Dr Stoddartt about getting some literary articles for the New Times. I saw Old Slop, and introduced Maginn to him. What the Doctor and he might afterwards agree about I can't say, but I do hope there may be a permanent connexion between them, as among newspeople there is no doubt Stoddart is by far the most respect- able man, and there is every reason to fear M.'s propensities tend- ing more frequently to the inferior orders of the plume. " For myself, I accepted Dr Stoddart's offer of his newspaper, to be repaid by a few occasional paragraphs throughout the year ; and upon his earnest entreaty for some introduction to you, I ventured to say that I thought you would have no objection to receive the New Times on the same terms. " Whether he has at once acted on this hint I know not, but thought it best to write you iji case. " After all, it is a pleasant thing to have a daily paper at one's breakfast-table all the year through. " It can cost us little trouble to repay him by a dozen half- columns — half of these may be puffs of ourselves by the way — and * Mr Blackwood. + Sir John Stoddart (at this time editor of The New Times, a morning paper, which started about 1817 and continued until 1828) was born in 1773, and died in 1856. Besides his political writings, he was the author of Remarks on Local Scenery and Manners in Scotland in 1799 and 1800. 2 vols. 1801 ; An Essay on the Philo- sophy of Language; and some translations. In the political caricatures and satires of that day, he was continually introduced as " Dr Slop." DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 293 Southey and others have agreed to do the same thing on the same terms. So if the New Times comes, and you don't wish it upon these terms, pray let me know this, that I may advise Slop. " London is deserted by the gentlefolks in the Christmas holidays, so that I have little news. 1 placed my brother, quite to my satis- faction and his, at Blackheath. As for the matter personal to my- self, of which I spoke to you, I can only say that I left it in Croker's hands ; he promising to exert himself to the utmost whenever the high and mighty with whom the decision rests should come back to London. I think, upon the whole, that there is nothing to be gained or denied except Lord Melville's personal voice; and it will certainly be very odd if, everything else being got over, he in this personal and direct manner shows himself not indifferent, but posi- tively adverse. I entertain, therefore, considerable hope, and if I fail shall not be disappointed certainly, but d — d angry. " I shall be in Edinburgh, I think, on Thursday evening, when I hope to find you and yours as well in health, and better in other respects, than when I left you. May this year be happier than the last ! — Yours always, J. G. Lockhart." A letter from Mr De Quincey, after a long silence, again brings him before us, as graceful and interesting as ever, though also, alas ! as heavily beset with his inevitable load of troubles. His letter is simply dated "London ;" for obvious reasons that great world was a safer seclusion than even the Vale of Grasmere : — " London, Thursday, February 24, 1825. " My dear Wilson, — I write to you on the following occasion : — Some time ago, perhaps nearly two years ago, Mr Hill, a lawyer, published a book on Education,* detailing a plan on which his brothers had established a school at Hazelwood, in Warwickshire. This book I reviewed in the London Magazine., and in consequence received a letter of thanks from the author, who, on my coming to London about midsummer last year, called on me. I have since become intimate with him, and excepting that he is a sad Jacobin * The work referred to here is, "Plans for the Government and Liberal Instruction of Boys in large numbers, drawn from experience." 8vo. London. 1823. 294 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. (as I am obliged to tell him once or twice a month), I have no one fault to find with him, for he is a very clever, amiable, good creature as ever existed ; and in particular directions his abilities strike me as really very great indeed. Well, his book has just been reviewed in the last Edinbic7'gh Review (of which some copies have been in town about a week). This service has been done him, I suppose, through some of his political friends — (for he is connected with Brougham,, Lord Lansdowne, old Bentham, etc.) — but I under- stand by Mr Jeffrey. Now Hill, in common with multitudes in this Babylon — who will not put their trust in Blackwood as in God (which, you know, he ought to do), yet privately adores him as the devil; and indeed publicly too, is a grea.t proneur oi Blackwood. For, in spite of his Jacobinism, he is liberal and inevitably just to real wit. His fear is — that Blackwood may come as Nemesis, and compel him to regorge any puffing and cramming which Tiff has [)ut into his pocket, and is earnest to have a letter addressed in an mfluential quarter to prevent this. I alleged to him that I am not quite sure but it is an affront to a Professor, to presume that he has any connexion as contributor or anything else, to any work which he does not publicly avow as his organ for communicating with the world of letters. He answers that it would be so in him, — but that an old friend may write sub rosa. I rejoin that I know not but you may have cut Blackwood — even as a subscriber — a whole lustrum ago. He rebuts — by urging a just compliment paid to you as a supposed contributor, in the Ncios of Literature and Fashion, but a moon or two ago. — Seriously, I have told him that I know not what was the extent of your connexion with Blackwood at any time ; and that I conceive the labours of your Chair in the Univer- sity must now leave you little leisure for any but occasional con- tributions, and therefore for no regular cognizance of the work as director, etc. However, as all that he wishes — is simply an inter- ference to save him from any very severe article, and not an article in his favour, I have ventured to ask of you if you hear of any such thing, to use such influence as must naturally belong to you in your general character (whether maintaining any connexion with Black- wood or not), to get it softened. On the whole, I suppose no such article is likely to appear. But to oblige Hill I make the applica- DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 295 tinn. He has no direct interest in the prosperity of Hazel wood : he is himself a barrister in considerable practice, and of some standing, I believe : but he takes a strong paternal interest in it, all his brothers (who are accomplished young men, I believe) being engaged in it. They have already had one shock to stand : a certain Mr Place, a Jacobin friend of the school till just now, having taken the pet with it — and removed his sons. Now this Mr Place, who was formerly a tailor — leather-breeches maker— and habit-maker — having made a fortune and finished his studies, — is become an immense authority as a political and reforming head with Bentham, etc., as also with the Westminster Revieza, in which quarter he is supposed to have the weight of nine times nine men ; whence, by the way, in the ' circles ' of the booksellers, the Review has got the name of the Breeches Review. "Thus much concerning the occasion of my letter. As to my- self, — though I have written not as one who labours under much depression of mind, — the fact is, I do so. At this time calamity presses upon me with a heavy hand : — I am quite free of opium : * but it has left the liver, which is the Achilles' heel of almost every human fabric, subject to affections which are tremendous for the weight of wretchedness attached to them. To fence with these with the one hand, and with the other to maintain the war with the wretched business of hack author, with all its horrible degradations, — is more than I am able to bear. At this moment I have not a place to hide my head in. Something I meditate — I know not what — ' Itaque e conspectu omnium abiit.' With a good publisher and leisure to premeditate what I write, I might yet liberate myself: after which, having paid everybody, I would slink into some dark corner — educate my children — and show my face in the world no more. If you should ever have occasion to write to me, it will be best to address your letter either ' to the care of Mrs De Quincey, Rydal Nab, Westmoreland' (Fox Ghyll is sold, and will be given up in a few days), or 'to the care of M. D. Hill, Esq., 11 Queen's Bench Walk, Temple :' — but for the present, I think rather to the latter : * To the very last he asserted this, but the habit, ahhough modified, was never abandoned. 296 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. for else suspicions will arise that I am in Westmoreland, which, if I were not, might be serviceable to me ; but if, as I am in hopes of accomplishing sooner or later, I should be — might defeat my purpose. " I beg my kind regards to Mrs Wilson and my young friends, whom I remember with so much interest as I last saw them at Elleray. — I am, my dear Wilson, very affectionately yours, "Thomas De Quincey," In the following letter from my father to his friend, Mr Findlay of Easter Hill, he refers to the death of his venerable mother, which took place in December 1824. The accident to my mother, to which allusion is made, occured in the previous summer; he was driving with her and the children one day in the neighbourhood of Ambleside, when the axle-tree gave way, and the carriage was overturned while ascending a steep hill. No very bad consequences to any of the party ensued at the time. Mrs Wilson, however, felt the shock to her nervous system, which affected her health so as to cause her husband much anxiety. "29 Ann Street, March 2, 1825, " My dear Robert, — Much did I regret not being at home when you called upon us lately. Both Mrs Wilson and myself felt sincerely for your wife and y^jurself on your late affliction. I had heard from Miss Sym that there were few hopes, but also that the poor soul was comfortable and happy, and now no doubt she is in heaven. " I am sure that you too would feel for all of us when you heard of my mother's death; she was, you know, one of the best of women, and although old, seventy -two, yet in all things so young that we never feared to lose her till within a few days of her departure ; she led a happy and useful life, and now must be enjoying her reward. I have suffered great anxiety about Mrs Wilson ; that accident was a bad one, and during summer she was most alarmingly ill. She is still very weak, and her constitution has got a shake, but I trust in God it is not such as may not be got over, and that the summer will restore her to her former health. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 297 She looks well, but is not so, and many a wretched and sleepless hour do I pass on her account. "It is so long since the meeting of the good old Professor's* friends, that I need now say no more than that all the arrangements met with my most complete approbation, that I read the account with peculiar pleasure, and especially your speech, and Ur Macgill's. CtKMXK^ Whatever was in your hands could not be otherwise than propeTand \a/>^^J^^ right. I have been much worried with my own affairs, having entangled n;e in much mischief, even after he had ruined me, but I am perfectly reconciled to such things, and while my wife and family are well and happy, so will I be. Could I see Jane perfectly restored, I should dismiss all other anxieties from my mind entirely. "I should like much indeed to see you at Easter Hill for a day or two ; my plans are yet all unfixed. Perhaps I may take a walk as far early in May. " I am building a house in Gloucester Place, a small street leading from the Circus into Lord Moray's ground. This I am doing because I am poor, and money yielding no interest. If Jane is better next winter, I intend to carry my plan into effect of taking into my house two or three young gentlemen. Mention this in any quarter. Remember me kindly to your excellent wife. Your family is now most anti-Malthusian. — Believe me ever, my dearest Robert, your most affectionate friend, John Wilson." "The house in Gloucester Place was completed and ready for habitation in 1826, and thenceforth was his home during the remainder of his life. The plan of receiving young gentlemen into his house was never put into execution. About this time a proposal was made that a separate Chair of Political Economy should be instituted in the University of Edin- burgh, and that the appointment should be conferred upon Mr J. R. M'Culloch, then editor of the Scotsman newspaper. Wilson's professorship combined the two subjects of Moral Philosophy and Political Economy, but up to this period he had not lectured on the latter topic ; he therefore resented the movement as an interference with his vested rights, and by appealing to Government succeeded * Professor Jardine. 29S MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. "*^ in crushing the^gT^ect. After this cOMtroversy (wmch included a sharp pampEiet, in which the Professor, under the no7n de plume of Mordecai MuUion, dealt somewhat freely with Mr M'Culloch), he lectured on political economy. Two years later, we find that he was an advocate of free trade, as may be seen from his letter to Dr Moir in the next chapter. Could his new studies — consequent upon complying with his friend Patrick Robertson's advice to prepare a course of lectures on political economy — have led to this result? It is more than probable that De Quincey may also have influenced his opinions on this head. The following letters, from Mr Patrick Robertson, Mr Huskisson, Mr Canning, and Mr Peel, will show the interest taken by Wilson's personal and political friends as to the proposed Chair : — "Edinburgh, Tuesday, i^A June, 1825, "My dear Wilson, — I have your last. Lockhart and Hope concur with me in thmking that the idea of a petition is out of the question. It would not do to enter the field in this way, unless victory were' perilled on the success; and what will be the lethargy of our leading Tories and the activity of the Whigs ? I should fear the result of a contest in this form. You seem to me to have made every possible exertion ; and there is only one thing more I must urge upon you, a positive pledge to lecture on this subject next winter. You are quite adequate to the task, and this without leaving Elleray. Books can easily be sent ; and if you don't know about corn and raw produce, and bullion and foreign supplies, so as to be ready to write in December, you are not the man who went through the more formidable task of your first course. A pledge of this kind would be useful, and when redeemed (if the storm were now over), would be a complete bar against future invasions of your rights. Think of this, or rather determine to do this without thinking of it, and it is done. "I don't see why you should leave your charming cottage to come down here at present, nor how you can be of any further service than you have been. It is strange there is no answer from the Big Wigs. Lord Melville writes nobody, and I fancy William Dundas has his hands full enough of his city canvass since that DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 2Q9 insane ass, , started. I am in hopes you will hear soon. Both Hope and Robert Dundas are anxious to do all in their power, and expect this plot will be defeated ; but I see no way of preventing it ultimately, except your actual lectures on the subject. None of us will come up this year, that you may have time to study, so study you must ; and don't you understand the old principle upon which the whole of the nonsensical science hangs ? I assure you, without jest, we all deeply feel the insult thus offered to you and the party, and I cannot believe it will ever be carried through. My hope is in Peel more than all the rest. Oh, for one dash of poor Londonderry ! — Ever yours faithfully, Pat. Robertson." "Board of Trade, 15M June, 1825. " Sir, — I have had the honour to receive your letter of the 8th instant, stating the grounds on which you conceive that the erection of a new professorship in the University of Edinburgh, for the purpose of lecturing on Political Economy, would be an unfair interference with the rights and consequent duties, which belong to the Chair of Moral Philosophy. "Without feelmg it necessary to go into the question how far the mode of lecturing on political economy which has hitherto prevailed in the University of Edinburgh is the most desirable, and exactly that in which I should concur, if the whole distribution of instruc- tion in that University were to be recast, I have no difficulty in stating that every attention ought to be paid in looking at the present application to the circumstances and consideration which you have stated. " The state of this case, as far as I know, is this : — An appli- cation has been made by memorial, from certain individuals, to the Government, for the sanction of the Crown to establish a professor- ship of Political Economy in the University, the subscribers offering to provide a permanent fund for founding the new Chair, in like manner as has been done by a private gentleman (Mr Drummond) in the University of Oxford. " This memorial has been referred by Lord Liverpool to the University of Edinburgh for their opinion, and no final decision will be taken by the Government until that opinion shall be 30C MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. received. Should the Senatus Academicus not recommend a com- pliance with the prayer of the Memorial, I have every reason to believe that it will not receive the sanction of Government, and I have conveyed that impression to the person who had put the memorial into my hands. " I must therefore refer you, as one of that Senatus Academicus, to your colleagues, who will, I have no doubt, give that opinion which shall appear to them most conducive to the furtherance of the important duties of the University, without prejudice to the indi- vidual rights of any member of that learned body. — I have the honour to be, Sir, your most obedient Servant, "W. HUSKISSON." FROM MR CANNING. "Foreign Office, June 21, 1825. " Dear Sir, — The alarm under which your letter of the 8th was written, has, I think, subsided long ago, in consequence of the answers which your representations received from other quarters. I only write lest you should think that I had neglected your letter, or felt no interest in your concerns. — I am, dear Sir, your obedient and faithful servant, Geo. Canning. "Mr Professor Wilson." FROM sir ROBERT PEEL. \Pnvate.'\ "Whitehall, June 21, 1825. " Sir, — The project of establishing a new and separate Pro- fessorship of Political Economy in the University of Edinburgh did not receive any encouragement from me. I understand that it is al- together abandoned ; and I have only, therefore, to assure you, that before I would have given my assent to it under any circumstances, I should have considered it my duty to ascertain that the institution of a new Chair was absolutely necessary for the purposes for which it professed to be instituted, and that the just privileges of other professors were not affected by it — I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant. Robert Peel. " Professor Wilson, etc. etc., Edinburgh." DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 301 He did not "leave his charming cottage," but very soon found more interesting work than poUtical economy to occupy his thoughts. Mr Blackwood soon after writes of his "going on with another volume," and also says, " I rejoice, too, that you are preparing your Outlines."* Of the "other volume" nothing more was heard. Some small portion of its intended contents was probably con- tributed to a work presently to be spoken of; but from the letters in reference to that subject, it may be conjectured that some tales were written by him, which, if they ever appeared in print, are not hitherto identified with his name. Besides the three tales which had already been published, Lis^/its and Shadows, Margaret Lindsay, and The Foresters, and two volumes of poems, no separate works of his appeared until the Recreations of Christopher North in 1843. That he did not carry out his intention of preparing his Outlines is cause of regret. The next letter from Mr Lockhart contains some reference to a literary project, ot which the first idea appears to have originated with him. The name ot y^amis will doubtless be entirely new to the readers of this generation, and there are not many now living who are aware of the fact that the volume published under that name, in November 1825, was chiefly the composition of Wilson and Lockhart. The fact that the publication was intrusted to any other hands than those of Mr Blackwood I can only attribute to the fact — apparent, from some allusions in Mr Lockhart's letters — that he had by this time become rather impatient of Mr Black- wood's independent style of treating his contributions. But tor him the book would never have appeared, and as certainly my father would never have contributed. The plan was suggested apparently by the popularity of a class of books that began to appear in London in the preceding year, under the title of Annuals, such as the Forget Ale Not, the Amulet, and Friendship s Offering. They were adorned with engravings, and contained contributions from the pens of distinguished writers. The projectors o{ Janus thought it most prudent to make the success of their Annual depend on its * In December 1825, I find advertised as "speedily to be published, in one vol. 8vo, Prospectus of a Course of Moral Inquiry, by John Wilson, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh ; " this book, however, never appeared. 3U2 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. literary merits alone, but it turned out that they were mistaken. Lockhart and Wilson undertook the editorship, and contributed the great bulk of the articles.* The following is a letter from Mr Lockhart bearing on this subject. He was on the eve of starting for Ireland with Sir Walter Scott :— "Edinburgh, July Zfh — (Starting). " My dear Wilson, — I am exceedingly sorry to find myself leaving Edinburgh without having seen again or heard from you. I have no time to write at length, so take business in form. " li-/, I have seen Dr Graham and David Ritchie to-day. They both are in spirits about the affair of the P. E. t chair. Peel has written to the Principal most favourably for you, and they both think the matter is settled. Hov'ever, it is still possible a Senatus Academicus may be called, in which case you will of course come down. 2d, I have seen Boyd. He is in high glee, and has got many subscriptions already for Janus. I have settled that I shall, on reaching Chiefswood by the 12th of August, be in condition to keep Janus at work regularly, and therefore you must let me have, then and there, a quantity of your best ms. If you think of any en- gravings, the sooner you communicate with Boyd as to that matter the better, as he will send to London for designs, and grudge no expense] but this is a thing which does require timely notice. "I confess I regard all that as a very secondary concern. In the meantime I have plenty of things ready for Janus; and the moment I have from you a line poem or essay, or anything to begin with (for I absolutely demand that you should lead)., I am ready to see the work go to press. " I therefore expect, when I reach home, to find there lying for me a copious packet from Elleray. " 3^^, Constable is about to publish a Popular Encydopcedia, in 4 vols. 8vo, and he has been able to get Scott, Jeffrey, Mackenzie, to contribute. The articles are on an average one page and a half * Several letters on the subject have been sent me, through the kindness of John Boyd, Esq., of the firm of Oliver & Boyd, the publishers of James, which show the interest and zeal with which the work was carried through. f Political Economy. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 303 each, but each contributor, having undertaken a number of articles, is at liberty to divide the space among them as he pleases. I have undertaken a few heraldic and biographical things, and he is very anxious that you should do the same. "For example, Locke, Ilobbes, Dr Reid: Would you take in hand to give him two or three pages each (double columns), condensing the most wanted popular information as to these men ? If so, he would gladly jump, and I should certainly be much gratified, because I perceive in him the most sincere desire to have connexion literary with your honour. "Pray address to me, care of Captain Scott, 15th Hussars, Dublin, if you wish to write to me mimediately; if not, my motions are so uncertain that you had much better write to Constable him- self, or to me when I return. As to the articles, nine of them are wanted this year. " I beg my best respects to Mrs Wilson, and to all the bairns, greeting. — Yours affectionately, J. G. Lockhart." About that time there was no small excitement at EUeray in the anticipation of a visit from Sir Walter Scott. Mr Canning was also in the neighbourhood, and there was a desire to do honour to both by some grand demonstration. On the 17 th of August, Lockhart writes to Wilson, " On board the steamboat ' Harlequin,' half-way from Dublin to Holyhead :" — " My dear Wilson, — Here we are, alive and hearty. Sir Walter Scott, Anne Scott, and myself; and I write you at the desire of the worthy Baronet to say, that there has been some sort of negotiation about meeting Mr Canning at your triend Bolton's. He fears Mr Canning will be gone ere now, but is resolved still to take Winder- mere e7i route. We shall, therefore, sleep at Lancaster on Friday night, and breakfast at Kendal, Saturday morning. Sir W. leaves it to you to dispose of him for the rest of that day. You can, if Mr Canning is at Storrs, let Col. Bolton know the movements of Sir W., and so forth; or you can sport us a dinner yourself; or you can, if there is any inconvenience, order one and beds lor us at Admiral Ullock's. We mean to remain over Sunday to visit you, at any rate ; so do about the Saturday as you like. I believe Sir W- 3C4 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. expects to call both on Wordsworth and Southey in going north- wards; but I suppose if Canning is with you, they are with you also. Canning in his letter to Scott calls yt)u ' Lord High Admiral of the Lakes.' "I am delighted to find that there is this likelihood of seeing vou, and trust Mrs Wilson is thoroughly restored. I have heard from nobody in Scotland but my wife, who gives no news but strictly domestic Perhaps this will not reach you in time to let us find a line at Kendal informing us of your arrangements. — Yours always, J. G. Lockhart." Sir Walter, with his daughter, Miss Scott, and Mr Lockhart, visited Elleray, as was promised, and remained there for three days. Of this meeting Mr Lockhart writes : — " On the banks of Winder- mere we were received with the warmth of old friendship by Mr Wilson, and one whose grace and gentle goodness could have found no lovelier or fitter home than Elleray, except where she now is." * All honour was done to the illustrious guest, and my father arranged that he should be entertained by a beautiful aquatic spectacle. It was a scene worthy a royal progress, and resembled some of those rare pageants prepared for the reception of regal brides beneath the dazzling sunshine of southern skies. "There were brilliant cavalcades through the woods in the mornings, and delicious boatings on the lake by moonlight, and the last day ' The Admiral of the Lake' presided over one of the most splendid regattas that ever enlivened Windermere. Perhaps there were not fewer than fifty barges following in the Professor's radiant proces- sion when it paused at the Point of Storrs to admit into the place of honour the vessel that carried kind and happy Mr Bolton and his guest. The three Bards of the Lakes led the cheers that hailed Scott and Canning ; and the music and sunshine, flags, streamers, and gay dresses, the merry hum of voices, and the rapid splashing of innumerable oars, made up a dazzling mixture of sensations, as the flotilla wound its way among richly-foliaged islands, and along bays and promontories peopled with enthusiastic spectators."! My father invited various friends from Scotland at this gay and * and + Life of Scott. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 0^0 notable time, to join in the general welcome given to Scott; among others, he asked his old and esteemed friend the Professor of Natural History, Mr Jameson,* who was reluctantly detained by his duties as editor of The Edhiburgh Philosophical Journal : his letter is of sufficient interest to be given here : — " Mv DEAR Sir, — I have delayed from day to day answering your kind letter in expectation of being able to make such arrange- ments as would allow me the pleasure of visiting you, but in vain ; and now I find, from unforeseen circumstances, that I must forego the happiness of a ramble with you this season. My sister, or rather sisters, who were to accompany me, and who beg their best wishes and kindest thanks to you for your polite invitation, wish all printers, and printers' devils, at the bottom of the Red Sea. They have been in a state of semi-insurrection against me for some time, owing to the putting off of the expedition, but are now resigned to their fate. " Edinburgh is at present very dull, and very stupid, and we are only kept alive by the visits of interesting strangers. " The adventures of the regatta have reached this, and my sisters expect to hear from Miss Wilson, who, they presume, acted a dis- tinguished part in the naval conflict, an animated account of all that befel the admirals. Some German philosophers say that a man — that I presume does not exclude a professor — may be in many places at the same time. I was rather inclined to doubt the accuracy of this notion, but now it seems to be confirmed in your- self, for, on the same day, you were buried in Edinburgh, and alive and merry at EUeray.t "All here join in best wishes to your family and Mrs Wilson, and believe me to remain yours faithfully and sincerely, " Rob. Jameson. * Professor Jameson died in 1853, cBtat eighty. "t* This refers to a practical joke of Mr Lockhart's, but not known at tlie time to have originated with him ; a joke which might have ended in painful results had it come untimeously to the ears of any one nearly connected with its object. It was no less than a formal announcement of Professor Wilson's sudden death in the leading columns of The Weekly Journal, along with a panegyric upon his character, written in the usual style adopted when noting the death of celebrated persons. 1 have not been able to find the paper, but I believe it was only inserted in a very few copies. On a later occasion Mr Lockhart amused himself in a similar manner, by U 30t> MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " My dear Sir, I hope you will not forget your promise of a paper for The Edinburgh Philosophical Jourtial. The effects of the scenery of a country on its population would form a very interesting topic, and one which affords an ample field for interesting observation." Soon after returning to Scotland, Lockhart writes, not in the best of spirits. What the opening allusion is to, I do not know : — "Chiefswood, Wednesday, 1825. " My dear Wilson, — I have received your letter, and shall not say more in regard to one part of its contents than that I am heartily sensible to your kindness, and shall in all time coming respect most religiously the feelings which I cannot but honour in you as to that matter. I hope I may be as brief in my words about Mrs Wilson. I trust the cool weather, and quiet of a few weeks, will have all the good effects you look forward to, and that I shall have the pleasure of seeing you all well and gladsome, in spite of all that hath been in the month of November. As for you, I do think it is likely we may meet earlier. All I know^ of Canning's motions is, that Sir W. Scott expects him at Abbotsford very early in October; the day not fixed that I know of I cannot help thinking that you would be much out of your duty, both to others and to yourself, if you did not come down ; for there is to be at least one public dinner in C.'s offer — -I mean from the Pitt Club — and I think he can't refuse. You must come down and show that w^e have one speaker among us — for ccrlcs we have but one — unless the President himself should come forth on the occasion, which I take to be rather out of the dice. I know Sir W. also will be particularly gratified in seeing you come out on such a field-day. I wish you would just put your- self into the mail and come to me here when C. leaves Storrs, and then you would see him at Abbotsford, and at Edinburgh also, without trouble of any kind. The little trip would shake your spirits up, and do you service every way. I assure you it would appending to a paper on Lord Robertson's poems in The Quarterly Review, the following distich : — " Here hes the peerless paper lord, Lord Peter, Who broke the laws of God, and man, and metre." These hnes were, however, only in one copy, which was sent to the senator ; but the joke lay in Lord Robertson's imagining that it was in the whole edition. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 307 do me a vast deal of good too. I have been far from well for some time back, and indeed exist merely by dint of forcing myself to do something. I have spent five or six hours on Shakspere regularly, and have found that sort of work of great use to me, it being one that can be grappled with without that full flow of vigour necessary for anything like writing; and I wish you had some similar job by you to take up when the spirit is not exactly in its highest status. I heard grand accounts of you the other day from the young Duke of Buccleuch and his governor, Blakeney — a very superior man, by the way. It would make me happy indeed to see you here, and I may say the same of not a few round about me. " I shall not fail to write you again, if I hear anything worth telling as to C. ; but I think it more likely you should than I, and I hope you will write mc if that be the case. " One word as to Ebony.* It is clear he must go down now. Maginn, you have heard, I suppose, is universally considered as the sole man of i\iQ John Bull Magazine; a most infamous concern, and in general displaying a marvellous lack of everything but the supremest impudence. I foresee sore rubs between Ebony and him. is exceedingly insolent when he has nobody near him. As is the case at present — cuts and maims — keeps back, etc. etc.; in short, is utterly disgusting. "You will have perceived that I have done very little this summer. How could I ? I am totally sick of all that sort of concern, and would most gladly say, 'farewell for ever.' — Yours affectionately always, J. G. Lockhart." It appears that Mr Canning did not visit Abbotsford, and the anticipated opportunity of showing that there was "one speaker" in Scotland did not therefore occur. The brilliant and versatile, but somewhat dangerous pen of Maginn, t was at this time in full employment for the Magazine. * The soubriquet by which Mr Blackwood was known by his contributors. f William Maginn, alias Ensign O'Doherty, alias Liictus, alias Dr Olinthus Petre, Trinity College, Dublin, etc. etc., was born at Cork in 1794, and died in London in 1842. This versatile writer and singular man of genius began to contri- bute to Blackwood in November 1819. Dr Moir says that his first article was a translation into Latin of the ballad of "Chevy Chase," which was followed by 3o8 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. In the Nodes in particular, where the character of the composition allowed most freedom of expression, he took his full swing, and laid about him in true Donnybrook style. Whether the "sore rubs" anticipated by Lockhart occurred I have no means of know- inc^; probably they did. That he sometimes caused considerable annoyance to the judicious editor will appear from the following brief note to Wilson about this very time. The reference in the conclusion is to Mr Blackwood's candidature for the office of Lord Provost, in which he was unsuccessful. numerous articles containing both wit and sarcasm, which Mr Blackwood had to pay for in the case of Leslie v Hebrew. Although he continued to write for Black- wood, the publisher was not acquainted with his real name, and the account of their first interview is amusingly told by Dr Moir : * — • " I remember having afterwards been informed by Mr Blackwood that the Doctor arrived in Edinburgh on Sunday evening, and found his way out to Newington, where he then resided. It so happened that the whole family had gone to the country a few days before, and in fact the premises except the front gate, were locked 1 T). This the Doctor managed, after vainly ringing and knocking, to open, and -iicide a circuit of the building, peeping first into one window and then another, where everything looked snug and comfortable, though tenantless. He took occasion afterwards to remark that no such temptations were allowed to prowlers in Ireland. "On the forenoon of Monday he presented himself in Princes Street — at that time Mr Blackwood's place of business — and. formally asked for an interview with that gentleman. The Doctor was previously well aware that his quizzes on Dowden, Jennings, and Cody of Cork (perfectly harmless as they were), had produced a fer- ment in that quarter, which now exploded in sending fierce and fiery letters to the proprietor of the Magazine, demanding the name of the writer, as he had received sundry notes from Mr Blackwood, telling him the circumstances ; and on Mr Black- wood appearing, the stranger apprised him of his wish to have a private conversation with him, and this in the strongest Irish accent he could assume. "On being closeted together, Mr Blackwood thought to himself — as Mr Black- wood afterwards informed me—' Here, at last, is one of the wild Irishmen, and come for no good purpose, doubtless.' " ' You are Mr Blackwood, I presume,' said the stranger. " ' I am,' answered that gentleman. "'I have rather an unpleasant business, then, with you,' he added, 'regarding some things which appeared in your Maga/.ine. They are so and so, would you be so kind as to give me the name of the author?' " ' That requires consideration,' said Mr Blackwood ; ' and I must first be satisfied that—' "'Your correspondent resides in Cork, doesn't he? You need not make anv mystery about that. ' * Dublin Universitv Magazine, January 1844, which contains the fullest account of Maginn's life and writings I have seen. LITERARY AXD DOMESTIC LIFE. 309 Edinburgh, August 22, 1825. My dear Sir, — I received your packet in time, and I hope you will find the whole correctly printed, though I was obliged to put to press in a great hurry. I only got Maginn's Song on Saturday night, after I had put the sheets to press. "On Thursday I received from him some more oS. xho. Nodes, but I did not like them, as he attacked Moore again with great bitter- ness for his squibs upon the King, and charged the Marquis of Hastings as a hoary courtier, who had provoked Moore with his libels upLVi the King. I have written him that it really will not do to run a-muck in this kind of way. I hope you will, on the whole, like this number, and that you wall be in good spirits to do some- thing very soon for next one. I fully expected to have had the pleasure of a letter from you either yesterday or to-day. "A letter irom you, however short, is always a treat. The can- " ' I decline at present,' said Mr B. , 'giving any information on that head, before I know more of this business — of your purpose — and who you are.' "'You are very shy, sir," said the stranger; 'I thouglit you corresponded with Mr Scott of Cork,' mentioning the assumed name under which the Doctor had hitherto communicated with the Magazine. "'I beg to decline giving any information on that subject,' was the response of Mr Blackwood. "'If you don't know him, then,' sputtered out the stranger, 'perhaps, perhaps you could know your own handwriting,' at the same moment producing a packet of letters from his side-pocket. ' You need not deny your correspondence with that gentleman ; I am that gentleman.' " Such was the whimsical introduction of Dr Maginn to Mr Blackwood ; and after a cordial shake of tlie hand and a hearty laugh, the pair were in a few minutes up to the elbows in friendship." From this time, 1820, till 1828, he continued his contributions more or less fre- quently. In 1824, about the time Mr Lockhart writes of him, he was appointed foreign correspondent of The Representative ; but as this newspaper was not long- lived, he was again thrown upon his resources, and he earned a scanty livelihood by writing for the periodicals. He assisted, as Mr Lockhart says, Theodore Hook in the John Bull, and obtained so much reputation as a political writer, that on the establishment of the Standard, he was appointed joint editor of the latter. He was ultimately connected with the foundation of Fraser s Magazine in 1830, and, along with Father Mahony, Mr Hugh Fraser, and others, gave that periodical his hearlicit support. He was then in the zenith of his fame, and his society courted ; but in 1834 he was again corresponding with Mr Blackwood, dating his contributions from a garret in Wych Street, Strand, and from this time till his death his condition was one of wretchedness. 3IO MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. vass for the Provostship is as hot as ever, but the result does not now appear so certain as when I last wrote you ; still 1 do not despair, and I trust we shall be successful. — I am, my dear Sir, yours truly, W. Blackwood." Mr Lockhart's temporary disgust at magazine-writing did not affect his productive activity. Very soon after writing the foregoing letter, he was hard at work writing articles for Janus, which began to be printed early in September, and was published about the close of November 1825. The various letters which passed between the editors and the publisher on the subject are entirely occupied with the details of "ms.," "slips," "proofs," and "formes." They contain, however, the materials for ascertaining the contributions of the two principal writers. The following letter from my father to Delta is given, as being the first communication between them which I have found, and as illustrating his mode of discharging the delicate duty of telhng a friend that his MS. is not "suitable." It is also his first letter dated from Gloucester Place : — "Gloucester Place, No. 8, Friday. " My dear Sir, — On my arrival here, a few days ago, I found in the hands of Messrs Oliver and Boyd, an extract from a tale intended ior Janus. As I take an interest in that volum.e, I trouble you with a few lines, as I know your handwriting. " I had intended writing to you to request a contribution to Janus, but delayed it from time to time, uncertain of the progress that double-faced gentleman was making towards publicity. " Copy for 350 pages is already in the prmter's hands, and I have about 120 pages of my own ms., and of a friend, to send in a few days, which, owing to peculiar circumstances, must make part of the volume, so that 470 pages may be supposed to be contributed. A number of small pieces too are floating about, which it is not easy to know how to dispose of " I am, however, anxious that something of yours should be in the volume, and if it be possible, there shall be, if you wish it. "The funeral scene is certainly good, natural, and true, and as part of a tale, I have no doubt it will be effective. Standing by DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 311 Itself it does not strike me as one of your best things (many of which are most beautiful and most lively), and I should wish to have mjaims one that /at least like better. " I had in my possession, some time ago, a ms. volume of yours containing several prose tales, one of which,* about a minister, a bachelor, I think, or widower, loving or being made to love his housekeeper, or somebody else, I thought admirable. Another tale, too, there was of a lively character that I liked much, but I forget its name.f I generally forget, or at least retain an indistinct remembrance of what gives me most pleasure. Had I that volume I would select a tale from it iox Janus. The worst oi Janus is, that a page holds so little in comparison with a magazine page, that even a short story takes up necessarily great room. " Should the volume prove an annual, I hope you will contribute. '* This is not a confidential communication. Mr Lockhart and I have no objections to be spoken of as friends and contributors to Janus, but, on the contrary, wish to be. But let all contributors keep their own counsel. — I am, my dear Sir, yours with much regard. John Wilson." On her way to Edinburgh from EUeray, my mother was taken alarmmgly ill, and was for some time in a very precarious state. This, combined with the labours of the opening University session, left little leisure for literary work ; ms. for Janus was therefore in great demand, and proof-sheets had to be revised after the class hour in the Professor's "retiring-room." Some contributions had also been expected from Mr De Quincey, which, however, did not make their appearance. The work at last came out in the form of a very finely-printed small octavo volume of 542 pages, which was sold at the price of 12s. There were no embellishments beyond a vignette representation of the two-faced god, and no names were given on the title-page or in the table of contents. The preface announces that the volume is intended to be the first of a series, to be pub- lished annually early in November. It never went, however, beyond its first number, not having received encouragement enough * This appeared in the volume under the title, "Saturday Night m the Manse." ■{• Probably ' Daniel Cathie, tobacconist." ^X2 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. to warrant the risk of a second trial. As the pubUsher dealt liber- ally with the authors, we may infer that the book did not pay so well as it might have done with poorer matter and a lower price. There was, in fact, too much good writing in this now little-known volume : such a crop could not be "annual," and so it came up but once. Its name suggests the character of the subjects contained in its pages, which vary in range between the seriousness of philosophy and the facetiousness ot genuine humour ; as free from dulness m the one kind as from flippancy in the other. Among the shorter and lighter papers, there is one from the French, but not a trans- lation, that gives the history of a dog, " Moustache," whose charac- teristic individuality is as skilfully portrayed as if it had come from the hand of a literary "Landseer."* From the list of contents it will be seen that nearly the whole was produced by the editors. Of the few contributions by other hands, are Miss Edgeworth's witty "Thoughts on Bores," and one or two pleasant sketches by Delta. Mr Lockhart left Chiefswood for London in December in 1825, to assume the editorship of the Quarterly Review. The following letter appears to have been written the day after he had taken possession of the editorial chair : — "25 Pall Mall, ■zjid December, 1825. " Mv DEAR Wilson, — It was only yesterday that we got ourselves at length established under a roof of our own, othei-wise you should have heard from me, and, as it is, I must entreat that whatever you do as to the rest of my letter, you will write immediately, to say how Mrs Wilson is. I have often thought with pain of the state in which we left her, and, through her, you, and I shall not think pleasantly of anydiing connected with you, until I hear better tidings. * Of such is Dr John Brown, who, in GUI' Dogs, has unravelled the instinctive beauties and touching sagacity of the canine race, with a delicacy of perception and cunning workmanship of thought truly admirable. " Rab," and "Moustache," in their devotion of purpose, would perfectly have appreciated each other ; but alas ! the faithful companion of " Ailie," and the brave "Moustache," must remain for ever the heroes of their own tales. These are not dogs to be met with every day ; tlicy come, like epic poeins, after a lapse of ages, and like them are immortal. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 313 " Murray, from what he said to me, would answer Boyd's letter in the affirmative. I did not choose to press him, but said what I could with decency.* "As I leared and hinted, you are rather in a scrape about the Uranus poem, the proprietor of it being some old Don, who for these seven years had dunned Ivlurray constantly, the bookseller in the meantime writing, he says, to Blackwood, equally in vain. '" One thing remains ; that the whole MS. be forthwith trans- mitted to Murray ; in that case the old gent, may probably never know of the printing of any part. I fear the volume is heavy on the whole ; but I know the deepness of my own prejudice against metaphysical essays, and would fain hope it is not largely partaken. " Maginn is off for Paris, where I hope he will behave himself. He has an opportunity of retrievmg much, if he will use it. I thmk there can be nothing in his removal to injure his writing in Blackwood^ but au contraire, and certainly nothing to diminish their quantity. " Mr has yesterday transferred to me the treasures of the Review; and I must say, my dear Wilson, that his whole stock is not worth five shillings. Thank God, other and better hands are at work for my first number, or I should be in a pretty hobble. My belief is that he has been living on the stock bequeathed by Gifford, and the contributions of a set of d — d idiots of Oriel. But mind now, Wilson, I am sure to have a most hard struggle to get up a very good first Number, and, if I do not it will be the Devil. I entreat you to cast about for a serious and important subject : give your mind full scope, and me the benefit of a week's Christmas leisure. " Murray's newspaper concerns seem to go on flourishingly. The title, I am rather of belief, will be 'The Representative,' t but he has not yet fixed. * Probably refers to Murray becoming the London publisher of yanus. + Murray's newspaper concerns did not go on "flourishingly," as maybe gathered from the following note: — "With Mr Benjamin Disraeli for editor, and witty Dr Maginn for Paris Correspondent, John Murray's new daily paper, The Representative (price yd.), began its inauspicious career on the 2Sth January 1826. It is needless to rake up the history of a dead and buried disaster. After a short and unhappy career of six months, The Representative expired of debility on the subsequent 29th of July. 314 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " I shall wiite you in due time, and at length, as to that business. "As for me personally, everything goes on smoothly. I have the kindest letters from Southey, and indeed from all the real sup- porters of the Review. Give my love to Cay, and do now write., write, write to yours affectly., J. G. Lockhart." During the following year my father contributed no less than twenty-seven articles, or portions of articles, to the Magazine, including the following, afterwards republished, in the collected works by Professor Ferrier : — "Cottages," "Streams," "MegDods," "Gymnastics." The only month in which nothing of his appeared was May ; the month of April, which closed the session, being his busiest at the College, except November. During the autumn of this year, business of some importance obliged him to go into Westmoreland. He was accompanied by his daughter Margaret and his son Blair, and during his absence wrote regularly to his wife, giving pleasant local gossip and descriptions of the improvements at Elleray. The dinner at Kendal, of which he speaks, was one of political interest connected with the Lowther family, at which he, as a matter of course, was desirous to be present. Mrs Wilson's brother-in-law, Mr James Penny Machell of Penny Bridge, was High Sheriff that year at the Lancaster Assizes, which accounts for the allusions to the trials, besides that some of them excited un- usual interest. "Kendal, o.id August. 1825. Ttiesday Morning, Half-past Three. " My dearest Jane, — I wrote you a few lines from Carlisle, stating our successful progress thus far, and we arrived here same night at half-past eleven. Not a bed in the house, nor any supper to be got, the cook having gone to bed. I however got Maggie and Blair a very nice bed in a private house and saw them into it. I slept, or tried to do so, on a sofa, but quite in vain. In a quarter The Tliames was not on fire, and Printing House Square stood calmly where it had stood. When, in after years, sanguine and speculative projectors enlarged to John Murray on the excellent opening for a new daily paper, he of Albemarle Street would shake his head, and with rather a melancholy expression of countenance, pointing to a thin folio on his shelves, would say 'Twenty thousand pounds are buried there.'" — " Histories of Publishing Houses," Critic, January 21, i860. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 315 of an hour we set off for Elleray in a chaise, which we shall reach to breakfast about half-past ten. We are all a good deal disgusted with our reception last night in this bad and stupid inn. " It is a very fine day, and Elleray will be beautiful ; I should think of you every hour I am there, but to-morrow you know I am to be in Kendal again, and shall write to you before the dinner. I have seen nobody in the town whatever, and, of course, heard nothing about the intended meeting. The Mackeands were hanged yesterday (Monday), and I have just been assured that the brother Waketield, who was to have been tried on Saturday, has forfeited his bail, and is off, fearing from the judge's manner that he would be imprisoned — if he stood trial — five years.* So there will be no trial at all at Lancaster. I hope, therefore, yet to be at Hollow Oak. "Think of my bad luck in losing seven sovereigns from there being a hole in my lecturing pantaloons. All the silver fell out of the one pocket, which Blair picked up, but the sovereigns had dropped for ever through the other. " I will write as often as possible, and tell you all that I hear about the various places and people. Kindest love to Johnny and Mary, who will have their turn some day, and also to the lovely girl and George Watson. "The chaise is at the gate, and is an open carriage. — I am, my dearest Jane, ever your affectionate husband, John Wilson." " Kendal, August 23, 1826. Wednesday Night, Twelve o'clock. " My beloved Jane, — The dinner is over, and all went well. Your letter I have just received, of which more anon. Why did you not write on Monday night? but thank God it is come now. We are all well, and my next, which will be a post between, shall be a long, descriptive, full and particular account of every one thing in the country. It is your own fault that this is not a long letter, * The two Mackeands were brothers, who had committed an atrocious murder on the inhabitants of a wayside inn, in Lancashire. The "brother Wakefield " was no less a person than Edward Gibbon Wakefield, whose shameful deception wove a strange romance around the life of Helen Turner, and furnished to the annals of law one of the most peculiar cases that has ever been recorded. 3i6 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. lor my misery all day has been dreadful. Mr Fleming was with me ail day, and was the kindest of friends ; and George Watson will, I am sure, write for you. " I shall see the Machells, who have returned home, and well, I understand. Once more, God bless and protect you ! and get your spectacles ready for next letter, which I shall have time to write at length. Hitherto I have not had an hour. "To-morrow, at Elleray, I shall write an admirable epistle. — Your affectionate husband, John Wilson. " Love to Johnny, Mary, Umbs, and George Watson." "Elleray, August i\th, 1826. Thursday Forenoon. "My dearest Jane, — I shall give you a sort oi precis of our movements. On Tuesday morning, at nine o'clock, we left Kendal in an open carriage, and reached Elleray before eleven. The day was goodish, indeed excellent at that time, and the place looked beautiful as of old. A handsome new rail runs along from the junction of the new avenue, all along to front of the new house, and has a parkish appearance — painted of a slate colour. The house we found standing furnished and in all respects just as we left it, so that, I suppose, the family have just walked out. The plants in the entrance reach near the roof, one and all of them, but have few flowers, and must be pruned, I fear, being enormously lank in pro- portion to their thickness, but all in good health. The little myrtles are about a yard high, and in high feather. The trees and shrubs have not grown very much, — it seems a bad year for them ; but the roses and smaller flowers have flourished, and those sent from Edinburgh were much admired. The walks in the garden are all gravelled neatly ; the bower is as green as the sea, and really looks well. The hedge lately planted round the upper part is most thriving, and strawberry-beds luxuriant ; in short, the garden looks pretty. The crops in the fields are bad, as all in the country are. " In an hour or two after our arrival it began to rain and blow and bluster like Brougham, so I left the house. Dinner was served in good style at six; fowls, fish, and mutton. In the eveninji DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 317 William Garnet came up, and was, as you may suppose, in a state of bliss. The boy is well, and I am to be his godfather by proxy. On Wednesday morning, I never doubted but there would be a letter from you, as I made you promise to write every night at six; but I never make myself understood. It gave me great pain to find there was none ; but this I alluded to before, so say no more, now, but will give you a viva voce scold for it. Fleming went with me in the chaise to Kendal, and at half-past three we sat down to dinner : Lord Lowther and Portarlington (pronounced Polington), Colonel Lowther, Henry Lowther, Howard of Levens, Colonel Wilson, Noel of Underlay, Bolton, the little Captain, and fifty-six others. It went off with eclat, and I speechified a little, but not too much, and gave satisfaction. Barber came over on purpose, and is evidently in the clouds about what I said of his cottage, although he made no allusion to it. The ball in the evening was apparently a pleasant one, but thin, as it was only fixed that morning that there was to be one. At twelve o'clock the mail came in, and I went down myself to the Post-Oftice, and got the postmaster to open the bag, and, lo, and behold, your letter of Tuesday, which took a load of needless anxiety off my soul. God bless you ! I returned to the inn, and Barber took me immediately in his chaise to Elleray, which we reached about two, and had a little supper; he then went on, and I to bed. " I am now preparing, after sound sleep, to call at the Wood and Calgarth. We shall dine at the Wood. The children were to have dined there yesterday, but the rain prevented them. ]\lrs Barlow came up in the evening, they tell me, with Miss North. Gale was found guilty of two assaults at Lancaster, but the anti-Catholic doctor allowed him to get off without fine. How absurd altogether the quarrel originatmg in Catholic Emancipation. I shall probably go to Penny Bridge on Saturday, but will write again to-morrow, so send to the Post-Oftice on Saturday evening, and on Sunday too, for letters are not delivered till Monday. But be sure you, or Mary, or Johnny, or George Watson, write every night, till farther orders. The little pony. Tickler, and Nanny, the cow, are all well, so is Star ; Colonsay is sold for four pounds. The last year's calf is as large as any cow, and there is another calf and two pigs. I 3l8 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. shall give you any news I hear in my next. I will write to Johnny soon. — Your affectionate and loving husband, John Wilson." The "Colonsay " mentioned here as sold "for four pounds," had been at one time a pony of remarkable strength and sagacity. A few summers previously, my father became acquainted with a Mr Douglas, who, with his family was then residing near Ambleside. This gentleman possessed a handsome and prepossessing appear- ance; beyond that he had not much to recommend him, being nothing but a sporting character, and was after a time discovered not to be sans peur and sans tache. However, he visited in all directions, frequently coming to Elleray. One day he appeared, mounted on a very fine animal, which he said was a thorough-bred, and an unrivalled trotter. This statement gave rise to some dis- cussion on the subject of trotting, apropos of which Wilson brought forward the merits of a certain grey cob in his possession, half jestingly proposing a match between it and the above mentioned "thoroughbred." Mr Douglas was delighted to meet with an adventure so entirely to his taste, so then and there the day and hour was fixed for the match to come off— a fortnight from that time. It is a long-ago story, but I well remember the excitement it created in the j/ie/iage at Elleray, and the unusual care bestowed upon the cob,— how his feet were kept in cold cloths, and how he was fed, and gently exercised daily. In short, the mystery about all the ongoings at the stable was most interesting, and we began to regard with something akin to awe the hitherto not more than commonly cared for animal. At last the day anxiously looked for arrived. Full of glee and excitement we ran — sisters and brothers — down the sloping fields, to take a seat upon the top of a wall that separated us from the road, and where we could see the starting-point. "Colonsay" was led m triumph to meet his fashionable rival, whose "get up" was certainly excellent. Both rider and horse wore an air of the turf, while my father, in common riding dress, mounted his somewhat ordinary looking steed, just as a gendeman would do going to take his morning ride. At last, after many manoeuvres of a knowing DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 319 sort, Mr Douglas declared himself ready to start, and off they set, in pace very fairly matched, — at least so it seemed to us from the Elleray gate. To Lowood, as far as I remember, was the distance for this trial. Umpires were stationed at their respective points on the road, and Billy Balmer kept a steady eye from his station upon " Colonsay," whose propensity for dashing in at open gates was feared might ruin his chance of winning. ]\Ieantime, the juvenile band on the wall, along with Mrs ^Vilson, were keeping eager watch for the messenger who was to bring intelligence of the conquering hero ; and how great was their delight when in due time they heard that "Colonsay'' had won the day ; Mr Douglas's much boasted-of trotter having broken into a canter. This trotting match with the handsome adventurer, was the origin of "Christopher on Colonsay" in the pages of Blackwood^ which did not appear, however, till ten years afterwards. 320 MEMOIR OF JOHN iVIL^ON, CHAPTER XIL LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 1827-29. One who knew my father well, said, "That in the multiform nature of the man, his mastery over the hearts of ingenuous youth was one of his characteristics. An essay or poem is submitted to him by some worthy young man, he does not like it, and says so in general terms. The youth is not satisfied, and in the tone of one rather injured, begs to know specific faults. The generous aristarch, never dealing haughtily with young worth, instantly sits down, and begins by conveying, in the most fearless terms of praise, his sense of that worth, but, this done, woe be to the luckless piece of prose or numerous verse ! Down goes the scalpel with the most minute savagery of dissection, and the whole tissues and ramifications of fault are laid naked and bare. The young man is astonished, but his nature is of the right sort; he never forgets the lesson, and, with bands of filial affection stronger than hooks of steel, he is knit for life to the man who has dealt with him thus. Many a young heart will recognise the peculiar style of the great nature I speak of. This service was once done to Delta, he was the young man to profit by it, and the friendship was all the firmer."* Mr Aird pro- bably alludes to the following letter, written by Professor Wilson in January 1827, to his friend Dr Moir : — " My dear Sir, — Allow me to write you a kind letter, suggested by the non-insertion of your Christmas verses in the last number of 'Maga' — a letter occasioned rather than caused by that circum- stance — for I have often wished to tell you my mind about yourself and your poetry. * Thomas Aird's Memoir of D. M. Moir. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 321 "I think you — and I have no doubt about the soundness of my opmion — one of the most dehghtful poets of this age. You have not, it is true, written any one great work, and perhaps, hke myseU, never will ; but you have written very many exquisitely beautiful poems which, as time rolls on, will be finding their way into the mindful hearts of thousands, and becoming embodied with the corpus of true English poetry. The character and the fame of many of our finest writers are of this kind. For myself, I should desire no other — in some manner I hope they are mine ; yours they certainly are, and will be more and more as the days and years proceed. " Hitherto, I have not said as much as this of you publicly, and for several good reasons. First, It is best and kindest to confer praise after it is unquestionably due. Seanuily, You, like myself, are too much connected with the Magazine to be praised in it, except when the occasion cither demands it or entirely justifies it. Thirdly, Genevieve is not my favourite poem, because the subjec;t is essentially non-tragic to my imagination, finely as it is written. Fourthly, I shall, and that, too, right early, speak of you as you ought to be spoken of, because the time has come when that can be done rightfiilly and gracefully. Fifthly, I will do so when I feel the proper time has come ; and, lastly, As often as I feel inclined, which may be not unfrequent. I love to see genius getting its due ; and, although your volume has not sold extensively, you are notwithstanding a [popular and an admired writer. " Having said this much conscientiously, and from the heart, I now beg leave to revert to a matter of little importance, surely, in itself, but of some importance to me and my feelings, since, un- luckily, it has rather hurt yours, and that too, not unnaturally or unreasonably, for I too have been a rejected contributor. In one respect you have altogether misconceived Mr Blackwood's letter, or he has altogether misconceived the very few words I said about the article. I made no comparison whatever between it and any other article of the kind in ' Maga,' either written by you or by any one else. But I said that the Beppo or Whistlecraft measure had become so common, that its sound was to me intolerable, unless it was executed in a transcendant style, like many of Mr Lockhart's X 32 2 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. stanzas in the Mad Banker of Amsterdam, which, in my opinion, are equal to anything in Byron himself. Your composition, I frankly and freely say now, will not, in my opinion, bear comparison, for strength and variety, with that alluded to. I said, further, that there had been poems, and good ones too, without end, and also in magazines, in that measure ; that it had, for a year or so, been allowed to cease, and that I wished not to see its revival, except in some most potent form indeed. That is all I said to Mr Black- wood. I will now say, further, in defence or explanation of the advice I gave him, that the composition is not, in my opinion, peculiarly and characteristically Christopher'ish, and therefore, with all its merit, would not have greatly delighted the readers of ' Maga ' at the beginning of a new year. Secondly., The topics are not such as Christopher, on looking back for two or three years, could have selected, and many important ones are not alluded to at all. That to me is a fatal objection. Thirdly, There are occasional allusions that are rather out of time and place, and seem to have been — as I believe they were — written, not lately, but a good while ago. So that I do not now, as I did not then, think it a composition that would have graced and dignified a new year's number, preceding all other articles, as a sort of manifesto from the pen of C. N., and this, partly from its not being very like him in style, but chiefly from its being very unlike him in topics. " Having said so much, I will venture to say a little more, well knowing that my criticism will not offend, even although it may not convince.* Of the first four stanzas, the first is to me beautiful, the second moderately good, the third, absolutely bad, and the fourth. not very happy, Irving and Rowland Hill being better out of North's mind altogether on a Christmas occasion. The nineteenth stanza, is, I think, very bad indeed, no meaning being intended, and the expression being cumbrous and far from ingenious. Twentieth stanza I see no merit in at all, nor do I understand it, I hope, for I trust there is more meaning in it than meets my ear. * Then follows a minute criticism of the poem, stanza by stanza, too detailed lo be given entire. A few touches may suffice, indicating that in politics the e.vtreme opinions of Christopher North, as expressed in Blackwood, were not always those of John Wilson. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 323 Jeffrey's age was a bad joke at the first, worse when repeated in a Christmas Carol for 1827 28. The vvhole stanza displeases me much. Twenty-four is pretty well, but by no means equal to what would have been the view-holloa of old C. N. on first tally-hoing a Whig. The last line of it does not tell, or point to any one person ; if so, not distinctly. Twenty-fifth contains a repetition of what has been many thousand times repeated in ' Maga,' usque ad nauseam^ by that eternal Londoiier from Yorkshire, and wants the free fresh- ness with which C. N. would have breathed out himself on such a topic, if at all. Perhaps I dishke twenty-eighth stanza, because I am by no means sure of its political economy, and never can join in the cry in the Magazine against free trade. Twenty-ninth stanza is neither good nor bad perhaps, but it leans towards the latter. Thirty-third is written, I fear, in the same vein with much of our enemies' abuse against us. Thirty-fourth opens inefficiently with Eldon. He is a fine old fellow, but in some things a bigot, and getting very old ; yet I love and respect him, as you do. Still this, and stanzas thirty-fifth, thirty-sixth, and thirty-seventh are not glorious, and free, and exulting, but the contrary, and the list of our friends is too scanty. Thirty-sixth is unworthy of Sir Walter, and A, and C. N., and J. W. Pardon me for saying so. In stanza fortieth I did not expect anything more about Time, and be damned to him ! All the stanzas that follow to forty-sixth, inclusive, are excellent, and in themselves worthy of A. But what if there be no snow and no skating at Christmas? No appearance of it at present. Besides, in such an ad^lress, they are too numerous. Forty-seventh, forty-eighth, and forty-ninth are feeble in the extreme 3 and the recipe for hot-pint, although correct, especially so. " Finally, the composition, as a whole, is of a very mediocre character, in the oi)inion of your kind friend and most sincere admirer. Professor Wilson. " I have never, in the whole course of my life, given an opinion in writing more than three lines long, of any composition of any man, whom I did not know to be a man of genius and talents. I have given you this long, scrawling, imperfectly expressed opinion of your verses, because I had already let you know that it was unfavourable, and therefore there is no impertinence in giving some of the reasons of my belief. 324 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. "That you should agree with me wholly is not to be expected; but that you will agree with me partly, I have no doubt, by and by. I sav so, from experience, for I have often and often seen, all at once, compositions of my own to be good for little or nothing, which I had at the time of writing them thought w^ell of, and even admired. " One thing I know you are wrong in, and that is, your preferring this composition to all you ever wrote for ' Maga.' You have written for ' Maga' many of the most delightful verses that are in the English language, and as for 'Mansie Waugh,'* it is inimitable, and better than Gait's very best. That it should have stopped— ii the fault of Mr Blackwood — is to me inexplicable and very dis- pleasing, and I have more than once said so to him, for nothing better ever was in 'Maga' since she was born. Mr Blackwood certainly thought the rejected composition a good one, and it was owing to me that it was rejected. I take that on my own head. But that ' Mansie Waugh ' should be stopped, is to me disgusting, because it was stopped in my teeth, and in yours who have the glory of it. " Let me conclude with the assurance of my esteem for you, my dear Sir, no less as a man than an author. I am happy to know that you are universally esteemed where you would wish to be, in your profession, and in your private character, and that your poetical faculty has done you no harm, but on the contrary great good. " I wish you would dine with us on Saturday at six d clock. I expect De Quincey, and one or two other friends, and there is a bed (or you, otherwise I would not ask you at so late an hour. — I am, yours affectionately, John Wilson." With the above exception, the memorials of this year are confined to the pages of Blackwood, to which he contributed in one month (June), when a double number was published, six of the principal articles. How little he thought of knocking off a Nodes when in the humour, may be judged from a note to Mr Ballantyne, the * Life of Mansie Waugh, Tailor in Dalkeith. i2mo. Edinburgh, 1828. A work full of humour, and abounding in faiihful sketches of Scottish life and manners. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LITE. 325 printer, in which he says: — '"I think of trying to-day and to-morrow to write a ' Noctes.' Would you have any objection to be intro- duced as a member? Would your brother? Of course I need not say, that, with a little fun, I shall represent you both in the kindest feeling. Pray let me know. — Yours very truly. "John Wilson. " Subject, — A party are to assemble in the Ne%v Shop 10 dinner." The following note to the same gentleman may come in as a minor illustration of the "calamities of authors :" — " Last night about eleven o'clock I got two proofs to correct which took me nearly three hours. I ordered the boy, therefore, to go away, and come early in the morning. It is exactly half-past eight, and I have had the luxury of three hours' work after supper for no end whatever, instead of indulging in it before breakfast. Yet to get on is, I understand, of great importance. Here, then, are hours on hours lost, not by me assuredly ; then by whom ? " Why the devil does not the devil hasten himself of an August morning? What right can any devil, red hot from Tartarus, have to disturb me, who never injured him, for three long hours including midnight, aU for no purpose but to make me miserable ? " I am, my dear Sir, very wroth ; therefore, see henceforth, that delays of this kind do not occur, for though I am willing to work when necessary, I am not willing to sacrifice sleep, and sometimes suffer, which is worse, from want of arrangement or idleness in the infernal regions. — Yours sincerely, John A\'ilson." " Thursday morning. — With two corrected proofs lying before me for several hours needlessly at a time when they are most wanted in the Shades." In the month of July of this year, my mother writes to her sister : — " We are all quite well, and looking forward to a few weeks' stay on the banks of the Tweed with great pleasure. I forget whether I mentioned when I last wrote to you that Mr Wilson had taken lodgings at Innerleithen (about six miles from Peebles). We go on the 2d ot August, the day after the boys' vacation commences. 326 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. "Mr and Mrs Lockhart, and their two children are come here this summer, I am sorry to say the latter in search of health. Mr L. is looking well, and not a bit changed in any respect. " Ebony has presented me with the Life of Napoleon, 9 vols. ; everybody is now devouring it, but what is thought of it I have not heard ; it will last me some years to get through it if I live; at least if I read at my customary pace." The three autumnal months were spent at Innerleithen, the Pro- fessor visiting Edinburgh from time to time, to attend to his literary affairs, finding on his return relaxation in his favourite amusement of fishing, or rambling over the hills to St Mary's Loch, and not unfrequently spending a day at Altrive with the Ettrick Shepherd. He had intended, in the following year, to let EUeray; but not having found a suitable tenant, he spent the autumn there himselt with his family. From a letter to his friend, the Rev. Mr Fleming of Rayrig, written in the spring of 1828, it will be seen how fondly he clung to the plate, after having made up his mind as a matter of duty to sacrifice the pleasure of spending his summers there. Referring in this letter to the Magazine, he says : — " Of Blackwood'' s Magazine I am not the editor. Although, I believe, I very generally get both the credit and discredit of being Christopher North. I am one of the chief writers, perhaps the chief, and have all along been so, but never received one shilling from the proprietor, except for my own compositions. Being generally on the spot, I am always willing to give him my advice, and to supply such articles as may be most wanted when I have leisure to do so. But I hold myself answerable to the public only for my own articles, although I have never chosen to say, nor shali I ever, that I am not editor, as that might appear to be shying responsibility, or disclaiming my real share in the work. To you, however, I make the avowal, which is to the letter correct, of Christopher North's ideal character. I am in a great measure the parent nevertheless, nor am I ashamed of the old gentleman, who is, though rather perverse, a thriving bairn. " I shall be at Elleray, with my daughters Margaret and Mary, about the i8th or 20th oi April, and hope to stay a month. I DOMESTIC A AD LITERARY LIFE. 327 intend to let Elleray, if I can get a suitable tenant, for three years. My children are all just growing up, and I cannot remove them from Edinburgh, nor can I leave them, even if the expense of having two houses were such as I could prudently encounter. I have therefore brought my mind to make the sacrifice of my summers, nowhere else so happy as on the banks of beautiful and and beloved Windermere. My visit is chiefly to make arrangements for letting Elleray during the period now mentioned. " I feel great delicacy in asking any questions of a friend relative to concerns of his friends. But I hope you will not think me guilty of indelicacy in writing to know on what terms Bellfield was let to Mr Thomson. I am wholly at a loss to know what to ask for Elleray, and Bellfield would be a rule to go by in fixing the rent. I am anxious you will do me the justice to think that I am one of the last men in the world to seek to know anything of the kind, except in the case like the present, where it would be of advantage to my interests and that of my family ; or if there be any objection to your informing me of the point, perhaps you would have the goodness to give me your opinion of what might be the annual rent of the house, garden, and outhouses of Elleray. Whoever takes it must keep the place in order, and therefore must keep on my gardener on his present wages. The land I could either keep myself, or let it along with the house, the whole or in part. " Mr would act for me, I know, but , like other idle people, is too free of his tongue about my intentions, of which he knows nothing, and has been busy telling all people that I am never again to return to Elleray, and that Elleray is to be sold. This rather displeases me. Mr would oblige me in anything, but is not very skilled in character, and might, I fear, be imposed upon if he met with people wishing to impose. The idea of making Mr Fleming useful to me has something in it abhorrent to my nature. Do, however, my dear Sir, forgive my natural anxiety on this point, for if I should let Elleray to a family that would injure it, it would make me truly unhappy. I love it as I love life itself; and, in case I leave Elleray unlet, in your hands I would feel that it was as safe as in my own. I am, however, I repeat it, duly sensible of the lelicacy of making such a request to such a friend ; and one word 2 28 MEMOIR OF yOlLV JVILSO.V. will be sufficient. My intention is to keep the cottage in my own hands, with the privilege to inhabit it myself \i I choose for a month or two, which will be the utmost in my power; although that privilege I will give up if necessary. Mrs Wilson is much better in her general health than she has been since her first unhai)py illness ; but is still far from being well, and my anxieties are still great. I am, however, relieved from the most dreadful of all fears, and I trust in God that the fits will not a unfortunately the most heljjless of human beings, and incapable ui fmding his way alone among mountains for one single hour. I am, therefore, under the absolute necessity of guiding him every mile of the way, and were I to leave him he might as well be lying in his bed. His stay here is limited by his engagements in Edinburgh, and we shall have to return to Elleray on Thursday, without having an opportunity of going again into Cumberland. Were 1 therefore to leave him on Tuesday, great part of my object in bringing him would be defeated, and, indeed, even as it is, I have little hope oi his achievmg my purpose. He can neither walk nor ride, nor remember the name of the lake, village, vale, or house, and yet he is an excellent artist, though a most incapable man. I returned from a three days' tour with him on Saturday night, and would have nnmediately written to you, but expected to have called on you on Sunday evening, to tell you how matters stood. Mrs Wilson, John, and one of the girls or indeed any part of the family you choose, will be with you on Tuesday; and if Tuesday be a bad day, so that Mr Gibb cannot draw, and the distance be such as I can accom- plish, 1 will exert some of my activity, a little impaired now, though not to any melancholy extent, and appear at Rayrig at live o'clock. " it wuLild have been pleasant had the three friends met, in a quiet way, at Rayrig ; and 1 do not doubt that in spite of all, we might have been even hajipy. But our meeting was prevented. Watson, 1 am sure, regretted it ; and as for myself, I trust you will believe in the warmth and sincerity of my affection. "With regard to the conversation of Calgarth about the Edin- burgh murderers,* 1 had quite forgotten it, till the allusion to it in your kind letter recalled it to my memory. I do not believe that that there is any difference of opinion in our minds respecting those hideous transactions, that might not be reconciled in three minutes* uninterrupted conversation. But I never yet recollect a single con- versation m a mixed company, on which difference of opinion between two parties had been intimated, where it was not rendered impossible to reconcile it by the interposition of a third or fourth * Burke and Hare, whc were tried in Edinburgh in 1829 for a series of murders perpetrated for the purpose of supplying the medical school with anatomical sub- jects.— isee Nodes. 344 MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSO.V. party taking up some point coni-iccted with, perhaps, but not essen- tially belonging to the point at issue. The argument, if there has been one, is thus broken in upon, new topics introduced, and, without explanations, it is scarcely possible to get back to the real question. Something of this kind occurred, I remember, at Cal- garth. Watson and Lord de Tabley joined in with certain remarks — right enough, perhaps, in their way — but such as involved and entangled the thread of our discourse. And thus you and I ap- l)eared, I am disposed to think, to have adopted different views of the matter ; whereas, had we been left to ourselves, we should either have agreed, or at least had an opportunity of letting each other clearly understand what the point was on which we disagreed, and the grounds of that disagreement. In early life I fear that my studies were not such as habituated my mind to the very strictest and closest reasonings ; nor perhaps is it the natural bent. . . ." The artist, Mr Gibb, whose incapacity in travelling is thus hum- orously described, was taken to Westmoreland by Professor Wilson, in order to make drawings for an intended wjrk descriptive of lake scenery ; a design, however, that came to an end, owing to an untimely disaster that overtook the numerous illustrations that had been made. A letter from so celebrated a man as Thomas Carlyle naturally awakens interest, to know how he and Professor Wilson regarded each other. The terms of affection expressed in this epistle would lead to a supposition that there had been an intimate intercourse between them. But either want of opportunity or other circum- stances prevented the continuance of personal friendship. It seems that these two gifted men never met, at least not more than once again after their first introduction, which took place in the house of Mr John Gordon, at one time a favourite pupil, and ever after a dearly-loved friend of my father. "Craigenputtock, Dumfries, igth Deccinber 1829. "My dear Sir, — Your kind promise of a Christmas visit has not been forgotten here ; and though we are not without mis- givings as to its fulfilment, some hope also still lingers ; at all events, if we must go unserved, it sliall not be for want of wishing DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LITE. 345 and audible asking. Come, then, if you would do us a \\v^ favour, that warm hearts may welcome in the cold New- Year, and the voice of poetry and philosophy, tiinncris lege sohitis, may for once be heard in these deserts, where, since Noah's deluge, little but the whirring of heath-cocks and the lowing of oxen has broken the stillness. You shall have a warm fire, and a warm welcome ; and we will talk in all dialects, concerning all things, climb to hill tops, and see certain of the kingdoms of this world, and at night gather round a clear hearth, and forget that winter and the devil are so busy in our planet. There are seasons when one seems as if emancipated from the 'prison called life,' as if its bolts were broken, and the Russian ice-palace were changed into an open sunny Tempe, and man might love his brother without fraud or fear ! A few such hours are scattered over our existence, otherwise it were too hard, and would make us too hard. " But now descending to prose arrangements, or capabilities of arrangement, let me remind you how easy it is to be conveyed hither. There is a mail coach nightly to Dumfries, and two stage- coaches every alternate day to Thornhill ; from each of which places, we are but fil'teen miles distant, with a fair road, and plenty of vehicles from both. Could we have warning, we would send you down two horses ; of wheel carriages (except carts and barrows) we are still unhappily destitute. Nay, in any case, the distance, for a stout Scottish man, is but a morning walk, and this is the loveliest December weather I can recollect of seeing. But we are at the Dumfries post-office every Wednesday and Saturday, and should rejoice to have the quadrupeds waiting for you either there or at Thornhill on any specified day. To Gordon, I purpose writing on Wednesday; but any way I know he will follow you, as Hesperus does the sun. " I have not seen one Blackwood, or even an Edinburgh news- paper since I returned hither; so what you are doing in that un- paralleled city is altogether a mystery to me. Scarcely have tidings of the Scotsman-Mercury duel reached me, and how the worthies failed to shoot each other, and the one has lost his editorship, and the other still continues to edit* Sir William Hamilton's paper on * One of the pleasant little inci^lents of those agreeable times, when it was con- 346 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON, Cousin's Metaphysics I read last night ; but, hke Hogg's Fife war- lock, ' my head whirled roun', and ane thing I couldna mind.' curas homitiutn! I have some thoughts of beginning to prophesy next year, if I prosper ; that seems the best style, could one strike into it rightly. " Now, tell me if you will come, or if you absolutely refuse. At all events, remember me as long as you can in good-will and affec- tion, as I will ever remember you. My wife sends you her kindest regards, and still hopes against hope that she shall wear her Goethe brooch this Christmas, a thing only done when there is a man of genius in the company. " I must break off, for there is an Oxonian gigman coming to visit me in an hour, and I have many things to do, I heard him say the other night that in literary Scotland there was not one such other man as ! — a thing in which, if would do himself any justice, I cordially agree. — Believe me always, my dear Sir, yours with affectionate esteem, Thomas Carlyle." About this time I find another letter from Mr Lockhart, referring to the contest for the University of Oxford in 1829, when Sir Robert Peel was unseated : — "London, 24 Sussex Place, Regent's Park. Su72day. "My dear Wilson, — I am exceedingly anxious to hear from you, firstly about Landor, what you have done, or what I really may expect to count on, and when ? You will see Blanco White's review ere this reaches you. I think it won't do, being full of cox- combry, and barren of information, and in all the lighter parts mauvais genre. It's, however, supported by all the Coplestons, Malthuses, etc.; and to satisfy , I must make an exertion, in which, as you love me, give me your effectual aid — for you can. I know you will. " I take it for granted you have been applied to both for Peel sidered necessary that the editors of the Scotsman and the Caledonian Mercury should e.vcliange shots to vindicate a fine-art criticism. The principals were Mr Charles Maclaren and Dr James Browne. The "hostile meeting" took place at seven o'clock in the morning, on the 12th November 1829. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 347 and Inglis. What do you say on that score? I am as well pleased I don't happen to have a vote. To have one, would cost me near ;^ioo; more than I care for Peel, Inglis, and the Catholic Ques- tion, tria ju?!cta in u)io. I'he Duke now counts on forty majority in the Lords, but his cronies hint he begins to be sorry the oppo- sition out of doors is so iveak, as he had calculated on forcing, through the No Popery row, the Catholics to swallow a bill seasoned originally for the gusto of the Defender of the Faith. " How are you all at home ? — Ever yours, "J. G. LOCKHART. *' P.S. — If you go to Oxon, come hither hnprimis, and I will go mth you." The next letter is addressed to Mr De Quincey, dated June 1829, and alludes to the "sketch of the Professor," of which I have made partial use in a previous chapter : — "Sunday Evening, "June 1829. " My dear De Quincey, — I had intended calling at the Nab to-morrow, to know whether or not you had left Edinburgh ; but from the Literary Gazette., received this morning, I perceive you are still in the Modern Athens. I wish, when you have determined on coming hitherwards, that you would let me have intimation thereof, as an excursion or two among the mountains, ere summer fades, would be pleasant, if practicable. " Your sketch of the Professor has given us pleasure at Elleray. It has occurred to me that you may possibly allude, in the part which is to follow, to the circumstances of my havmg lost a great part of my original patrimony, as an antithesis to the word 'rich.' Were you to do so, I know it would be with your natural delicacy, and in a way flattering to my character. But the man to whom I owed that favour died dikiOvX a fortnight ago, , and any allusion to it might seem to have been promjjted by niyself, and would excite angry and painful feelings. On that account I trouble you with this perhaps needless hint, that it would be better to pass it over sub silcntio. Otherwise, I should have liked some allusion to ^^48 MEMOIR OF JOIISf IVILSOIV. it as the loss, grievous to many minds, never hurt essentially the peace of mine, nor embittered my happiness. " If you think the Isle of Palms and the City of the Plague origfnal poems (in design), and unborrowed and unsuggested, I hope you will say so. The Plague has been often touched on and alluded to, but never that I know of, was made the subject of a poem, old Withers (the City Remembrancer) excepted, and some drivelling of Taylor the Water Poet. Defoe's fictitious prose narrative I had never read, except an extract or two in Britton's Beauties of Eng- land. If you think me a good private character, do say so ; and if in my house there be one who sheds a quiet light, perhaps a beauti- ful niche may be given to that clear luminary. Base brutes have libelled my personal character. Coming from you, the truth told, without reference to their malignity, will make me and others more happy than any kind expression you may use regarding my genius or talents. In the Lights and Shadows, Margaret Lindsay, The Foresters, and many articles in £ lackiaood {?,\\ch. as Selby's 'Orni- thology'*), I have wished to speak of humble life, and the ele- mentary feelings of the human soul in isolation, under the light of a veil of poetry. Have I done so? Pathos, a sense of the beautiful, and humour, I think I i)Ossess. Do I ? In the City of the Plague there ought to be something of the sublime. Is there? That you think too well of me, is most probably the case. So do not fear to speak whatever you think less flattering, for the opinion of such a man, being formed in kindness and affection, will gratify me far beyond the most boundless panegyric from anybody else. I feel that I am totally free from all jealousy, spite, envy, and nncharitable- ness. I am not so passionate m temper as you think. In com- parison with yourself, I am the Prince of Peacefulness, for you are a nature of dreadful passions subdued by reason. I wish you would praise me as a lecturer on Moral Philosophy. That would do me good; and say that I am thoroughly logical and argumenta- tive — for it is true ; not a rhetorician as fools aver. I think, with practice and opportunities, I would have been an orator. Am I a good critic ? We are all well. I have been very ill with rheumatism. — God bless you, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours affectionately, J. W." * November 1826. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LITE. 349 The friendship subsisting between I\Ir De Quincey and my iatlier has aheady been mentioned. From 1809, wnen he was his com- panion in pedestrian rambles and the sharer of his purse, till the hour of his death, that friendship remained unbroken, though sometimes, in his strange career, months or years would elapse witiiout my father either seeing or hearing of him. If this singular man's life were written truthfully, no one would believe it, so strange the tale would seem. It may well be cause of regret that, by his own fatal indulgence, he had warped the onginal beauty ol his nature. For fine sentiment and much tender kindliness 01 disposition gleamed through the dark mists which had gathered around him, and imperfectly permitted him to feel the virtue he so eloquently described. For the most part his habit of sympathy was such that it elevated the dark passions of life, investing them with an awful grandeur, destructive to the moral sense. Those beautiful writings of his captivate the mind, and would fain invite the reader t>» believe that the man they represent is De Quincey himself But not even in the "autobiography" \^ I'Wi personnel to be found. He indeed knew how to analyse the human heart, through all its deep windings, but in return he offered no key of access to his own. In manner no man was more courteous and naturally dignified \ the strange vicissitudes of his life had given him a presence of mind which never deserted him, even in positions the most trying. It was this quality that gave him, in combination with his remarkable powers of persuasion, command over all minds ; the ignorant were silenced by awe, and the refined fascinated as by the spell of a serpent. The same faults m common men would have excited contempt; the same irregularities of life in ordinary mortals would have destroyed interest and affection, but with him patience was willing to be torn to tatters, and respect driven to the last verge. Still, Thomas De Quincey held the place his intellectual greatness had at first taken possession of. ^\'llson loved him to the last, and better than any man he understood him. in the expaii sivenesb of his own heart, he made allowances for faults which experience taught him were the growth of circumstances. It may seem strange that men so opposite in character were allied to each other by the bonds of friendship ; but 1 think that all experience 3;c MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. shows that sympathy, not similarity, draws men to one another in that sacred relation. I remember his coming to Gloucester Place one stormy night. He remained hour after hour, in vain expectation that the waters would assuage and the hurly-burly cease. There was nothing for it but that our visitor should remain all night. The Professor ordered a room to be prepared for 1 im, and they found each other such good company that this accidental detention was prolonged, with- out further difficulty, for the greater part of a year. During this visit some of his eccentricities did not escape observation. For example, he rarely appeared at the family meals, preferring to dine in his own room at his own hour, not unfrequently turning night into day. His tastes were very simple, though a little troublesome, at least to the servant who prepared his repast. Coffee, boiled rice and milk, and a piece of mutton from the loin, were the materials that invariably formed his diet. The cook, who had an audience with him daily, received her instructions in silent awe, quite over- powered by his manner; for had he been addressing a duchess, he could scarcely have spoken with more deference. He would couch his request in such terms as these : — " Owing to dyspepsia afflicting my system, and the possibility of any additional disarrangement of the stomach taking place, consequences incalculably distressing would arise, so much so indeed as to increase nervous irritation, and prevent me from attending to matters of overwhelming im- portance, if you do not remember to cut the mutton in a diagonal rather than in a longitudinal form." The cook — a Scotchwoman — had great reverence for Mr De Quincey as a man of genius ; but, after one o^ these interviews, her patience was pretty well exhausted, and she would say, ''Weel, I never heard the like o' that in a' my days ; the bodie has an awfu' sicht o' words. If it had been my ain maister that was wanting his dinner, he would ha' ordered a hale tablefu' wi' little mair than a waff o' his haun, and here's a' this claver aboot a bit mutton nae bigger than a prin. Mr De Quinshey would mak' a gran' preacher, though I'm thinking a hantle o' the folk wouldna ken what he was driving at." Betty's observations were made with considerable self-satisfaction, as she cjnsidered her insight of Mr De Quince/s character by no means DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 351 slight, and many was the quaint remark she made, sometimes hitting upon a truth that entitled her to that shrewd sort of dis- crimination by no means uncommon in the humble ranks of Scottish life. But these little meals were not the only indulgences that, when not properly attended to, brought trouble to Mr De Quincey. Regularity in doses of opium were even of greater consequence. An ounce of laudanum per diem prostrated animal life in the early part of the day. It was no unfrequent sight to find him in his room lying upon the rug in front of the fire, his head resting upon a book, with his arras crossed over his breast, plunged in profound slumber. For several hours he would lie in this state, until the effects of the torpor had passed away. The time when he was most brilliant was generally towards the early morning hours ; and then, more than once, in order to show him off, my father arranged his supper parties so that, sitting till three or four in the morning, he brought Mr De Quincey to that point at which in charm and power of conversation he was so truly wonderful. * * Mr De Quiiiuey died at Edinburgh, December 8, 1859. ,,2 MEMOIR OF 70JJN WILSON. CHAPTER XTTL LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE-A CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 1830-37- In 1830, we get some glimpses of home life in Gloucester Place, from my mother's letters to Miss Penny. She says, in reply to an invitation for her sons to Penny Bridge :— " The boys are trans- ported with the idea of so much enjoyment, and I hope they will not be disappointed indeed. I do not think Mr Professor can refuse them, but I have not yet had time to talk the matter ovei with him : for at the time the letter came he was pirti ;ularly busy, and the Jay before yesterday, he and Johnny left us tur a week to visit an old friend, Mr Findlay, in the neighbourhood ot GlasgOAv, from whose house they mean to go and perambulate all the old haunts in and about Paisley, where Mr W. spent his boyhood, and particularly to see the old minister Dr M'Latchie, whom I daresay you have heard him mention often; he lived in his house for several years before he went to Glasgow College." My father really must have been "particularly busy" at this time, and his powers of working seem to me little short of miraculous; he had two articles in Blackwood m January; four in February; three in March; one each in April and May; four in June; three in July; seven in August (or 116 pages); one in September; two in October; and one in November and December : being thirty articles in the year or 1200 columns. To give an idea of his versatility, I shall mention the titles of his articles in the Magazine for one month, viz., August :—" The Great Moray Floods;" "The Lay of the Desert;" "The Wild Garland, and Sacred Melodies;" "Wild-Fowl Shoot- LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 353 ing;" "Colman's Random Records;" "Clark on Climate;" " Noctes, No. 51." My mother, while all this literary work was going on, was too good a housewife to be able to spare time for more than the most notable works of the day. She, however, says jocularly to her correspondent : " I think I must give you a little literature, as I shine in that line prodigiously; I have read, with intense interest, as everybody must do, Moore's Life of Lord Byron. Mr W. had a copy sent to him fortunately ; for strange as it may appear it is not to be had in the booksellers' shops here, and I suppose will not be till the small edition comes out." In September and October, the Professor writes from Penny Bridge and Elleray, the following letters to his wife : — "Penny Bridge, Tuesday, September 1830. " My dearest Jane, — We came here yesterday ; and my inten- tion was to take Maggy back to Elleray with me to-day, and thence in a few days to Edinburgh. But I find that that arrange- ment would not suit, and therefore have altered it. Our plans now are as follows : — We return in a body to Elleray (that is, I and Maggy, and James Ferrier) this forenoon. There is a ball at Mrs Edmund's (the Gale !) to-night, where we shall be. On Thursday, there is a grand public ball at Ambleside, where we shall be ; and I shall keep Maggy at Elleray till Monday, when she and the boys will go in a body to Penny Bridge, and I return alo?ie to Edinburgh, "From your letters I see yuu are well; and I cannot deny Maggy the pleasure of the two balls ; so remain on her account, which I hope will please you, and that you will be happy till and after my return. The session will begin soon, and I shall have enough to do before it comes on. Dearest Jane, be good and cheerful ; and I hope all good will attend us all during the winter. Such weather never was seen as here ! Thursday last was fixed for a regatta at Lowood. It was a dreadt\il day, and nothing occurred but a dinner-party of twenty-four, where I presided. On Friday, a sort of small regatta took place. A repast at three o'clock was attended by about seventy-five ladies and gentlemen. And tne ball in the evenmg was, I believe, liked by the young people. The ' worstling ' took place during two hours of rain and storm. The 354 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. ring was a tarn. Robinson, the schoolmaster, threw Bnmskil, and Irvine threw Robinson ; but the last fall was made up between them, and gave no satisfaction. The good people here are all well and kind. Maggy has stood her various excursions well, and is fat. I think her also grown tall. She is a quarter of an inch taller than Mrs Barlow. Colonel B lost his wife lately by elopement, but is in high spirits, and all his conversation is about the fair sex. He is a pleasant man, I think, and 1 took a ride with him to Grasmere t'other day. The old fool waltzes very well, and is in love with Maggy. He dined with us at Elleray on Sunday. I have not seen the Watsons for a long time, but shall call on them to-morrow. The weather and the uncertainty of my motions have stood in the way of many things. I have constant toothache and rheumatism, but am tolerably well notwithstanding. Give my love to Molly and Umbs. Tell them both to be ready on my arrival, to help me in arranging my books and papers in the garrets and elsewhere. My dearest Jane, God bless you always. — Your affectionate husband, "J. Wilson." A few days later he writes : — " Elleray, Monday Afternoon, October 1830. " My dearest Jane, — The ball at Elleray went off with great eclat, Maggy being the chief belle. The Major is gone, and proved empty in the long-run. We all dined at Calgarth on Saturday, — a pleasant party. On Sunday a Captain Alexander (who was in Persia) called on us, and we took him to the Hardens' to dinner. We were all there. To day Maggy and Johnny made calls on horseback, and we in the 'Gazelle.' We took farewell of the Watsons. Mr Garnet dines with us at Elleray, and the boys at Lowood with the Cantabs. To-morrow they go to Penny Bridge, and J. Ferrier to Oxford, and I to Kendal. So expect me by the mail on Wednesday, to dinner, at five, if I get a place at Carlisle. I found the Penny Bridge people were anxious, so I let the bairns go to them till after the Hunt ball ; and no doubt they will be happy. Hc-.ve all my newspapers from the ' Opossum ' on Tuesday before I arrive. Tell Molly to get them in a heap. Have a fire in DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 355 the front drawing-room and dining-room, and be a good girl on my arrival. Have a shirt, etc., aired for me, for I am a rheumatician ; a fowl boiled. I got your kind letter yesterday. Love to Moll and Umbs. God bless you ! — I am, your affectionate husband, "Johnny Wilson." "Elleray, Monday, 1830. " My dearest Jane, — ^I had a letter this morning from Maggy, dated Saturday, Bangor Ferry, all well; and I suppose that she would write to you some day. She told me not of her plans, but I understand from Belfield, that the party are expected there on Thursday. I think I shall stay till she arrives. We dined at Penny Bridge on Thursday, having called at Hollow Oak, and found all the family at both places well. " Miss Penny is looking very well. We returned that night to Elleray. On Friday, for the first lime — no, for the second — we took a sail in the 'Gazelle,' the Thomsons' boat, for an hour or two, and then dined in a body at Lowood. On Saturday we rode (all five) to Grasmere, walked up Easdale — fell in with a man and his wife, or love-lady — Englishers apparently, named Brodie, who were anxious to see Langdale. We told them to join us, and all seven rode to the head of it, across by Blea-Tarn, and down little Langdale to Ambleside. " It was a delightful day as to weather, and we enjoyed ourselves considerably. " At Ambleside, where we arrived about half-past six, we dined in great strength. The Carr surgeon, the Costello ditto, John Harden, Fletcher Fleming, another person, I think, and ourselves five. I got home about twelve all steady. Sunday, that is yester- day, was one of the most complete things of the kind I remember to have seen; and I presume the floods in Morayshire were in high health and spirits. We lay on sofas all day. To-day, Monday, is stormy and showery, and I never left the dining-room great chair. Tell Mary to write to me the night she gets this, and that, I think, will be to-morrow, and I shall get it on Thursday. Write you on Thursday night, and I shall get it on Saturday, on which day I shall probably leave Elleray, but I will fix the day as soon as Maggy 356 MEMOIR OF JOHN JVILSO.V. comes. I shall on my arrival have plenty to do to get ready for November 4th; so shall not most probably go to Chiefswood at all. Hartley Coleridge came here on Saturday, and is looking well and steady. He sends his kindest regards to you, Mary, and Umbs. Do you wish me to bring Maggy with me ? Yours most affec- tionately, J. Wilson. *'I got your kind letter duly this morning." " Dearest Moll, — Write me a long letter, and on "Wednesday night, if you have not time on Tuesday. Give my love to your IMamma and Umbs.— Your affectionate father, J. W." Next year he paid another visit to Westmoreland, from which he writes to his wife : — " Penny BRmcE, Sunday, zStk Sept., 1831. " My dear Jane, — I delayed visiting this place with Mary, till I could leave EUeray, without interruption, for a couple of days. T. Hamilton stayed with us a fortnight, and, as he came a week later, and stayed a week longer than he intended, so has my return to Edinburgh been inevitably prevented. Mary and I came here on Thursday, since which hour it has never ceased raining one minute, nor has one of the family been out of doors. They are all well, including Mrs and Miss Hervey, who have been staying about a month. It now threatens to be fair, and I purpose setting off by and by on foot to EUeray, a walk of fifteen miles, which perhaps may do me good ; but if I feel tired at Newby Bridge, I will take a boat or chaise. Mary I leave at Penny Bridge for another week. The boys will join her here next Thursday, and remain till the Monday following, when they will all return to Windermere. On that Monday, Mary will go to Rayrig for two days or three, and either on Thursday or Friday arrive together in Edinburgh. I and Gibb will most probably be in Edinburgh on Thursday first, unless I find any business to detain me at EUeray for another day, on my return there to-night. If so you will hear from me on Wednesday. As Mary wrote a long letter on Tuesday last, full, I presume, of news, I have nothing to communicate in that line. Birkbeck has DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 357 been at EUeray for two or three days, and Johnny says he expects Stoddart, who perhaps may be there on my return to-night. We all went to the Kendal ball, which the young people seemed to enjoy. Twenty-six went from Bowness, forming the majority of the rank and beauty. I hope you have been all quite well since I saw you, as all letters seem to indicate, and that I shall find you all well on my return. A severe winter lies before me, for I must lecture on Political Economy this Session, as well as IM oral Philosophy; and that Magazine will also weigh heavy on me. I certainly cannot work as I once could, and feel easily wearied and worn down with long sitting ; but what must be must, and toil I must, whatever be the consequence. The month before the Session opens will be of unspeakable importance to me, to relieve if possible my miserable appearance in College beginning of last Session. I wish to do my duty in that place at least, and change and exposure there are hard to bear, and of infinite loss to my interests. I feel great uneasiness and pain very often from the complaint I spoke of; but how else can I do what is necessary for me to do ? Whatever be the con- sequence, and however severe the toil, I must labour this winter like a galley-slave; and since it is for us all, in that at least, I shall be doing what is at once right and difficult, and in itself deserving of commendation. If I fall through it, it shall only be with my life, or illness beyond my strength to bear up against. I hope Maggy's playing the guitar and singing frequently, and that Umbs is a good boy. Kindest love to them. I should like to have a few kind lines from you, written on Monday, the evening you receive this, and sent to post-office then. I may, or rather must miss them, but if anything prevents it I shall conclude you are undoubtedly all well. You need not send any newspapers after receipt of this, but please to keep them together. Do not say anything about my motions to the Blackwoods, as I wish to be home a day or two incog. I shall get my room done up when I arrive, which will save me trouble perhaps afterwards in looking out for papers. Mary is getting fat, and looks well, and the boys are all right. — I am, my dearest Jane, yours ever affectionately, John Wilson." Two days later he writes : — 358 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " xvIy dear Jane, — I expect to be at home on Friday per mail, or ' Peveril,' to dinner. I purpose riding over to Penrith with Garnet on the ponies on Wednesday, and thence on, which saves me Kendal, a place abhorred. The family leave Elleray that day tor Penny Bridge. I was so knocked up vvith my walk therefrom as to be stiff and lame yet. My walking day is over. The shrubs in the entrance are all well, but too tall, and want to be cut over. The myrde is in excellent health and beauty, though it seems less.* Charlie t is in high glee and condition. The avenue is beautiful, and the gate pretty, the low walls being covered with ivy, and other odoriferous plants and parasites. The ponies and cows are all well- to-do, five of the former and two of the latter. Of the five former, one is an 'unter, and two are staigs. I called to-day at the Wood, and found all the Watsons well. I have frequently done so. I have not been in Ambleside since Hamilton left us ; and we have seen nobody for a long time, it being supposed that I am gone, whereas I am just going. I wish no dinner on Friday, but -a. foal, as F. calls it. Mary is to write to you on Friday next, so you will hear of the boys a day or two later than by the Professor. Weir must have been a bore. I like Otter; Starky is in treaty for Brathay for nineteen years. He is seventy-two. Rover is pretty bobbish. Star is at Oldfield in high spirits, and neighs as often as we pass the farm. Love to Maggy and Umbs. I expect to find you all well, and if possible alone and in good humour on Friday, for I shall be very tired. Stoddart brought letters. I opened Mag's and yours, but not the other two, which being about eating had no charms. — Your affectionately, J. Wilson." That the Magazine did weigh heavily upon him I do not wonder, as he had already written twenty articles during 1831, five of which were in the August number. During this year, too, he commenced those noble critical essays on " Homer and his Translators,":}: which scholars have remarked * The myrtle was my mother's favourite plant. + A spaniel belonging to my mother. X The first appeared in April, followed by Numbers 2 and 3 in May and July. In August, a critique on the Agamemnon of yEschylus interrupted the essays, but they were resumed again in December, continued at intervals from 1832 to 1834, making in all seven papers. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 359 "contain the most vivid and genial criticisms in our own or any- other language."* I beHeve deep thought and careful philosophica; inquiry, combined with stirring vivacity, are nowhere more attrac- tively displayed than in these essays of my father. But not to the learned alone do they give delight, for my humble admiration makes me turn to them again and again. The following letter from Mr Sotheby relating to these pa2:)ers, may come in here : — " 13 Lower Grosvenor Place, October 8, 1831. *'My dear Sir, — One month, two months, three months' grievous disappointment, intolerable disappointment, Homer and his tail, Chapman, Pope, and Sotheby in dim eclipse. What becomes of the promise solemnly given to the public, that the vases of good and evil impartially poured forth by your balancing hand, were ere Christmas to determine our fate ? I long doubted whether I should trouble you with a letter, but the decided opinion of our friend Lockhart decided me. And now hear, I pray, in confidence, why I am peculiarly anxious for the completion of your admirable remarks. " I propose, ere long, to publish the Odyssey, and shall gratify myself by sending you, as a specimen of it, the eleventh book. It will contain, i7iter alia, a sop for the critics deeply soaked in the blood of a fair heifer and a sable ram, and among swarms of spirits, the images of the heroes of the Iliad, completing the tale of Troy divine. After the publication of the Odyssey, it is my intent, by the utmost diligence and labour, to correct the Iliad, and to endeavour to render it less unworthy of the praise you have been pleased to confer on it Of your praise I am justly proud; yet for my future object, I am above measure desirous of the benefit of your censures. The remarks (however flattering) with which I have been honoured by others, are less valuable to me than your cen- sures ; of this, the proof will be evident in the subsequent edition. "You must not, you cannot leave your work incomplete. How resist the night expedition of Diomede and Ulysses ? — Hector bursting the rampart — Juno and the Cestus — Hector rushing on, * Gladstone's Studies on Homer and the II t>ien'c A ^e. 360 MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSO.Y. like the stalled horse snapping the cord — The death of Sarpedon — The consternation of the Trojans at the mere appearance of the armed Achilles — The Vulcanian armour — Achilles mourning over Patroclus — The conclusion of the twentieth book — The lamenta- tions of Priam, and Hecuba, and, above all, of Andromache — Priam at the feet of Achilles — Andromache's lamentation, and Helen's (oh, that lovely Helen !) over the corse of Plector — can these and innumerable other passages be resisted by the poet of the 'City of the Plague?' No, no, no. " In sooth, I must say, I had hope that at Christmas I might have collected, and printed for private distribution, or, far rather published, for public delight and benefit, with your express permis- sion, the several critiques in one body, and then presented to the world a work of criticism unpaialleled. " I dine this day at Lockhart's, with my old and dear friend, Sir Walter. His health has improved since his arrival. Perhaps your cheeks may burn. I beg the favour of hearing from you. — I remain, my dear Sir, most sincerely yours, Wm. Sotheby."* Miss Watson, the writer of the following letter, was a lady whose name can scarcely be permitted to pass without notice. She was eldest daughter of the Bishop of Llandafif, and a woman of high mental attainments. When my father resided as a youncr man in Westmoreland, she was then in the flower of her age, and in con- stant communion with the bright spirits who at that time made the Lake country so celebrated. Mr De Quincey, in writing of Charles Lloyd, and mentioning Miss Watson as his friend, says, she "was an accomplished student in the very department of literature which he most cultivated, namely, all that class of work which deal in the analysis of human passions. That they corresponded in French, that the letters on both sides were full of spirit and originality." Miss Watson's life, with all the advantages which arise from a highly-endowed nature, was but a sad one, for her temperament was habitually melancholy, and her health delicate. She has long since found repose. The speech which she alludes to in her letted was one made by Professor Wilson at a public meeting which had * William Sotheby, born November 9, 1757; died December 30, 1833. DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. 361 been projected by a number of individuals, to give vent to their sentiments upon the effect of the reform measures in the contem- plation of Government : — "December 3, 1S31. " My dear Professor, — I suppose it is to yourself I owe the Edinburgh papers containing your own eloquent and elegant speech. Many thanks ; I admire it much. If you were not born a prince you deserve to be one. Mr Bolton was here when I was reading it, and he said, 'I do assure you Miss Watson, that Mr Canning never made a finer speech, and I shall drink the Professor's health in a bumper lo-day.' I really am not capable of understanding what Englishmen mean by all this nonsense. We are like the Bourbons, of whom it may be said, ' that they had learnt nothing by the French Revolution.' Is it possible that the system of equality (at which a child of five years old might laugh) can still delude the minds of men now? I have no news worth sending; all is quiet. The cholera frightens no one. We laugh at it as a good joke ! God help our merry hearts ! there is something ludicrous in it, I suppose, which I can't find out. Blackwood sent me Robert of Paris, etc., which I am very much pleased to have. I have not begun it yet ; indeed, I am not well, nor would have sent you so dull a letter, but that I could not delay saying how much I was gratified by the papers. — Ever believe me yours affectionately, D. Watson. "Kind remembrances to Mrs Wilson and Margaret. It is bitter, bitter cold in this pretty house. As for you and the Shepherd (to whom I would send my thanks for the most gratifying letter I ever received, but that it is rather too late in the day), I advise you both to shut yourselves up in Ambrose's for a month to come, and keep clear of all the nonsense that will be going on in the shape of Reform; and every night put down your conversation, and let me see it in Blackwood. You shall be two philosophers enchanted like Durandarte, and not to be disenchanted till all is over. Truly I do think you eat too many oysters ! How much I do like those ' Noctes.' Write one, and let it be a good one. Wordsworth says < that the booksellers are all aghast ! and that another dark age is 362 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. coming on.' I think he is not far wrong. He is a wonderful creature when he will deign to be what nature made him, not artificial society. He read one of his poems to me. The subject was some gold-fish, but the latter stanzas were magnificent ! Oh, what a pity it is to see so noble a creature condescending to be the ass of La Fontaine's Fable ! Adieu ! I have written beyond my power of hand. I would rather far listen to you than write to you. I cannot now make up a letter, but my heart is still the same. It was the only talent I ever possessed in this world. It vmst be hid under a bushel. How is Mrs Hamilton? I am ashamed to send such a scrawl, but indeed I am very poorly, as the old nurses say." The following passages from the Professor's oration, which, on referring to the papers, I see was the speech of the day, are worth reproducing. He said among other good things, that " Often have I heard it said, and have my eyes loathed to see it written, that we of the great Conservative party are enemies of education, and have no love for what are called the lower orders — orders who, when their duties are nobly performed, are, in my humble estimation, as high as that in which any human being can stand. I repel the calumny. I myself belong to no high family. I had no patronage beyond what my own honourable character gave me. I have slept in the cottages of hundreds of the poor. I have sat by the cottar's ingle on the Saturday night, and seen the grey-haired j)atriarch with pleasure unfold the sacred page — the solace of his humble but honourable life. I have even faintly tried to shadow forth the lights and shades of their character; and it is said I belong to that class who hate and despise the people. , , , Must I allow my understanding to be stormed by such arguments as that the chief business of poor men is to attend to politics, or their best happiness to be found in elections? I know far better that he has duties imposed on him by nature, and, if his heart is right and his head clear, while he is not indifferent to such subjects, there are a hundred other duties he must perform far more important ; he may be reading one book, which tells him in what happiness consists, but to which I have seen but few allusions made by the reformers in modern times. In reading those weather-stained pages, on which, perhaps, the sun of heaven had looked bright while they DOMESTIC AND LITERARY LIFE. z^i had been unfolded of old on the hill-side by his forefathers of the Covenant, when, environed with peril and death, he is taught at once religion towards his Maker, and not to forget the love and duty he owes to mankind, to prefer deeper interests, because ever- lasting, to those little turbukinces which now agitate the surface of society, but which, I hope, will soon subside into a calm, and leave the country peaceful as before."* I fear, however, his political opponents, in that time of madness, did not look upon his words with the same loving eyes as his amiable correspondent, as I see in a letter of my father's at this time a reference to a rhyming criticism of the Conservative pro- ceedings anything but flattering, from which I give two lines as a specimen — " The Professor got up and spoke of sobriety, Religion, the Bible, and moral propriety." " I need not point out to your disgust," parenthetically observes the Professor to a friend. " the insinuations conveyed in that wretched doggrel, nor express my own that they could have been published by a man who has frequently had the honour of sitting at my table and of witnessing my character in the domestic circle." In this excited period I find ladies writing strongly on political matters. For example, even the gentle spirit of my mother is roused. She says to my aunt : — "I hope you are as much disgusted and grieved as we all are with the passing of this accursed Reform Bilk I never look into a newspaper now; but we shall see what they will make of it by and by." Among my father's contributions to the Magazine this year, there appeared in the May number an article which attracted considerable attention. It was a review of Mr Tennyson's Poems,t the first edition of which had appeared two years previously. The critique was severe, yet kindly and discriminating. The writer remarking good-humouredly at its close, "In correcting it for the press, we see that its whole merit, which is great, consists in the extracts, which are 'beautiful exceedingly.' Perhaps in the first part of our article we may have exaggerated Mr Tennyson's not unfrequent silliness, * Edinburgh Advertiser, Nov. 29, 1831. + Poems, chiefly Lyrical. By Alfred Tennyson. London : E. Wilson. 1830. 564 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. for we are apt to be carried away by the whim of the moment, and, in our humorous moods, many things wear a queer look to our aged eyes which fill young pupils with tears ; but we feel assured that in the second part we have not exaggerated his strength, and that we have done no more than justice to his fine faculties." It says much for the critic's discriminating power that he truly foretold of the future Laureate, that the day would come when, beneath sun and shower, his genius would grow up and expand into a stately tree, embowering a solemn shade within its wide circumference, and that millions would confirm his judgment "that Alfred Tennyson is a poet." The young poet, although evidently nettled,* received the criticism in good part, and profited by it. On reading the paper once more, I observe that, with scarcely a single exception, the verses condemned by the critic were omitted or altered in after editions, f In June 1832, my mother writes: — "Mr Wilson has long and earnestly wished to have a cruise with the experimental squadron, which I believe will sail by the end of this month; but unfortunately he was late in applying to Sir P. Malcolm." In July he left home for the purpose of joining the squadron, and the result of his naval experience will be found in the following communications sent from time to time to Mrs Wilson : — *" In the edition of his poems published in 1833 the following somewhat puerile lines appeared, which I quote as a literary curiosity : — "TO CHklSTOPHER NORTH. "You did late review my lays. Crusty Christopher ; You did mingle blame with praise, Rusty Christopher : When I learned from whom it came, I forgave you all the blame, Musty Christopher ; I could not forgive the praise, Fusty Christopher." t "The National Song;" " English War Song ; " "We are Free;" "Love, Pride, and Forgetfulness ; " Sonnet, "Shall tlie hag Evil," etc.; "The 'How and the 'Why ; The Kraken," etc. etc., are all consigned to oblivion, or to onr acquisi- tive biethren on the other side of the Atlantic, who may have preserved these youth- ful effusions in the American editions. CKir/SE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 365 " Union Hotel, Charing Cross, \Ved71csday, July II, 1832. " My dearest Jane, — I have received your favour of last Satur- day, and rejoice to find that you are all well, and in as good spirits as can be expected during my absence. Had I known what bustle and botheration I should be exposed, to, I hardly think I should have left Edinburgh. Every day gives a different account of the movement of the squadron. The 'Vernon,' who is at Woolwich, was to have dropt down to-day to Sheerness, but it is put off till Friday, and even that is uncertain. She has then to get all her guns and powder on board, and her sails set, and other things, which will take some da)s, I guess ; and this morning it is said the squadron are to meet at Plymouth. All this keeps me in a quan- dary, and I have not been able to see Sir F. Collier, the captain of the ' Vernon,' but possibly shall to-morrow. Since I wrote I have been again at Woolwich, and seen the officers of the 'Vernon.' They were at first rather alarmed at the idea of a professor, and wondered what the deuce he wanted on board. I understand that they are now in better humour ; but the truth is, that p7-ide is the leading article in the character of all sailors on their own ship; and I am told these dons are determined to take nobody else but myself Captain Hope (not the President's son) and Andrew Hay were with me at Woolwich, and there we picked up Captain Gray of the Marines (you will remember his singing), who dined with us at Greenwich. I see Blair every day, and pass my time chiefly with offishers, the United Service Club being close at hand. I called yesterday on Miss Landon, who is really a pleasant girl, and seemed much flattered by the old fellow's visit. To-day Blair and I, along with Edward Moxon (bookseller), take coach for Enfield (at three o'clock), to visit Charles Lamb. We return at night, if there are coaches. On Thursday, I intend going to the Thomsons' down the river, and shall call again on n:y way on the ' Vernon,' to see what is domg. Meanwhile, you will get this letter on Friday, and be sure it is ansivered that evening, and sent to the General Post- Office. I shall thus hear from you on Monday, and shall then (if not off) have to tell you all our future intentions. INIeanwhile it is reported that the eholera is on board the ' Vernon.'' If so, I shall not 366 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. go, but proceed to the Tyne. But say nothing of this to anybody. Yesterday I visited Kensington Gardens with Captain Hope, but saw nobody Hke Maggy, Mary, Umbs, and yourself. I met there Lord Haddington, and am to dine with him, if I can, before sailing; but I hope we shall be at rendezvous by Monday night. Tell Maggy to give me all news, and if you have heard again from Johnny. I will send you in my next my direction when we set sail; and I am not without hopes the squadron may land me in Scotland. Some say there will htjighthig, and that the 'Vernon' will lead the van, being, though a frigate, as powerful as a line-of battle ship. I will write to Ebony about money for the house after I hear from Maggy, and hope you will go on pretty well till I return. Tell Maggy to be civil to Bob, and he will be my banker for small sums. I will also send a receipt, which you will get on the 6ih of August for p^3o odd; but I will explain how in my next. "Take good care of all yourselves, and be good boys and girls. Love to Mag, Moll, and Umbs. As for Blair, he cuts me so up that I fear to send him even my compliments. I am glad to hear of Moll's voice being high. Keep Mag to the guitar and new songs — Yours ever affectionately, John Wilson," The next is to his daughter Mary : — "Union Hotel, Charing Cross, July i6, 1832. "My dear Mary, — I have received your kind epistle, and am rather pleased to find you all well. I write these few lines in a great hurry, to tell you to wrap up in a parcel, two silver soup-spoons, tivo tea-spoons, and two silver forks, and direct them to me at Union Hotel, Charing Cross, per mail, without delay. See them booked at the office. Young ladies take such things to school, and young gentlemen, it seems, to sea. See that the direction is distinct. Write to me by the same post, or if anything prevent, by the one following ; but direct my letter, care of Captain Tatnal, No. 5 Park Terrace, Greenwich. I have just time to say God bless you all, but in a few days will write a long letter telling you of our intended motions, as we hope to be off by the 26th. Don't believe anything about the 'Vernon' in any newspaper. Be good girls and boys till CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADROX. 367 my return, and do not all forget your old Dad. Love to mamma, and tell me if you have heard farther from Johnny. — Thy affec- tionate lather, J. Wilson." TO MRS WILSON. No. 2 Park Terrace, Greenwich, Friday. "Ma bonne Citoyenne, — I am now fairly established here in lodgings, that is, in a room looking into Greenwich Paik, with liberty to take my meals in a parlour belonging to the family. The master thereof is a Frenchman, and a Professor of Languages, and the house swarms with frogs, that is, children. I pay fourteen shillings a week for lodging, which is a salutary change from the hotel. I dine with Tatnal or Williams, or at a shilling ordinary, and hope to be able to pay my bill to Monsieur Gallois when I take my departure. I walk to Woolwich daily (three miles), and board the 'Vernon,' who now assumes a seaward seeming. Her gun- carriages are on board, but not the guns themselves, which are to be taken in at Sheerness. I have seen Sir F. Collier, who behaves civilly, but he cannot comprehend what I want on board the 'Vernon,' neither can L Her destination is still unknown, but she is to have marines and artillerymen on board, which smells of fighting. But with whom are we to fight ? My own opinion is, that we are going to cruise off Ireland, and to land troops at Cork. Williams thinks we are going to Madeira, to look after an American frigate, and Tatnal talks of the Greek Islands. Meanwhile, Sir P. Malcolm, I hear, is enraged at being kept tossing about in the ' Donegal,' without knowing why or wherefore ; and nobody knows where the ' Orestes ' has gone. The ' Tyne ' sails to-morrow for Plymouth. The 'Vernon,' it is thought, cannot be off before the 27th, so that there will be time to write me again before I go to sea. You will get this on Monday morning, and I hope some ot you will answer it that night. Direct it to me at Captain Tatnal's, No. 5 Park Terrace, Greenwich, in case I should be oft. If our destination be merely Ireland, there is every probability of our touching at some Scotch port. I have been several times at Sir Henry Blackwood's, in Regent Park ; pleasant family, and fashionable. I forgot if I 308 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. mentioned that I went to the Opera, singing and dancing, and tout- ensefuble beautiful. A Miss Doyle (a paddy about thirty-five), at Sir H. B.'s plays the harp ten times better than Taylor. She is held to be the finest harpist v/e have. Miss Blackwood is very pretty, and clever. I go up to town to-day to dine with Mrs Burke, and to-morrow a party of us eat white bait at the 'Crown and Sceptre ' here. Besides the ' Vernon,' there are lying at Woolwich two new gun-brigs, also built by Symonds, called the 'Snake' and tlie 'Serpent.' They go with us to compete with the 'Orestes.' The squadron, therefore, at first, will consist of the ' Donegal,' 84, the 'Vernon,' 50, the 'Castor,' 44, the .'Tyne,' 28, the 'Orestes,' 'Serpent,' and 'Snake,' 18; and we expect to be joined by the 'Britannia' and 'Caledonia,' 120; but that is uncertain. The hatred felt for the 'Vernon' is wide and deep, and all the old foo-ies predict she will capsize in a squall. This is all owing to her incomparable beauty. You have just to imagine the 'Endeavour' magnified, and you see her hull, only she is sharper. She is verv wide in proportion to her length, and also deep ; so the devil him- self will not be able to upset or sink her. She has the masts and spars of a 74, and yet they seem light as lady-fern. I am sorry, however, to say, that there have been twelve cases of cholera on board, and three deaths. The disease, however, is now over, and I have no doubt arose from the dreadful heat of the weather acting on the new paint. She is now dry as a whistle, and the crew is the finest ever seen. I hope you will get up a long letter among you in reply to this, and I shall be expecting it anxiously as the last I can receive for some time. I will write again before one o'clock, sending you my direction, and also a receipt, which will enable you to get some money, I think, on the 6th of August. Be sure to tell me of Johnny, and when he returns I hope he will write me an account of his route and his exploits. Blair, too, might write me a letter, I think. Kindest love to them all. Keep Maggie at her music, and tell me how Molly is getting on with Miss Baton. Perhaps Umbs lias a voice! Tell her to try. Compliments to Rover.* God bless you all, and believe me, dearest Jane, yours ever most affectionately, J. Wilson." * One of the dogs. CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 369 "Sheekness, August 4, 1832. "My DEAREST Jane, — I have delayed writing you from day to day, in hourly expectation of being able to tell you something decisive of our mysterious motions, but am still in ignorance. In a few days you may expect another and very long epistle; but I write now just to say that we are weighing anchor from Sheerness for the Nore, and that to-morrow we set sail down the Channel, either for Cork or Madeira, or somewhere else, for nobody knows where. I never knew what noise was, till I got on board the ' Vernon.' But all goes on well ; the particulars in my next. I enclose you a five- pound note just to pay the postage. I cannot get on shore, else I would send a stamp for some money due to me on the 6th. But I will send it first port we touch on. Meanwhile Maggy must, when necessary, get a small supply from Bob. "You will not think this short letter unkind, for we are ordered joff in half an hour. You may depend on my next being rather amusing. " I shall be most anxious to hear from you, and of you all, immediately. You are all at leisure, and must get up a long joint letter, telling me of everything. Get a long sheet from Ebony, and cross it all over. Enclose it (directed to me in H.M.S. 'Vernon') to Mr Barrow, Admiralty, and he will transmit it duly. Do not lose time. God bless you all, one and all, and believe me, my dearest Jane, ever yours affectionately, John Wilson." " 1832. " My dearest Jane, — I wrote to you a few days ago from Sheerness, and now seize another hour to inform of our motions since I wrote from London. I found my lodgings at Greenwich very comfortable, but experienced almost as many interruptions there as in town. I dined with Charles Burney one day, and found the family the kindest of the kind, and pleasant. I forget if I told you that the Literary Union gave me a dinner, with T. Campbell in the chair. At last, after many a weary delay, the ' Vernon ' left ^Voolwich on Sunday, 2C)th July, in tow of two steam-boats, which took her to the Nore. On Monday 2)^th, she was taken into dock 2 A 370 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. at Sheerness, and then, after some repairs in her copper, anchored within cable-length of the 'Ocean,' of lOo guns. Some of us amused ourselves with walking about the place ; but it is somewhat dullish, though the docks, etc., are splendid. On Tuesday Z'^st, we took our guns on board, fifty 3 2-pound ers, the method of doing which was interesting to me who had never seen it before ; and then lunched with the officers of the ' Ocean,' and inspected that magnificent ship ' The Flag Ship,' — Admiral Sir J. Beresford. I dined with the Admiral in his house on shore, and met a jileasant party of males and females. We had music and dancing, and the family proved agreeable and amiable. At midnight we reached the ' Vernon,' all tolerably steady, that is to say, Mr Massey, the first lieutenant, the ca])tain, and myself. On Wednesday, \st of August, I breakfasted with the officers of the 'Ocean,' and Lieutenant Carey (brother of Lord Falkland) took me in his cutter to Chatham, during which sail we saw about a hundred ships of war, of the line and frigates, all moored like models along both shores. The chaplain (Falls) and I then inspected Chatham and Rochester, and walked to Maidstone, where were the assizes ; so we proceeded to a village wayside inn, where we slept comfortably. This walk gave us a view of the Vale of Alesford and the richest parts of Kent. " On Thursday 2d, we returned to the 'Vernon,' through a woody and hedgy country, and the hottest of days, and in the afternoon saw the powder taken aboard. The officers of the 26th gave me a dinner at the barracks, and a jovial night we had of it. On rowing back to the ship, one of our lieutenants fell overboard, but we ]ncked him up without loss of time, and had him resuscitated. On Friday ^d, I called on the Admiral, and chatted with his three daughters, about the corresponding ages of your three — pretty, and well brought up, elegant, and without hauteur. They have no mother, but an aunt lives with the Admiral, who is a kind-hearted .^oul as ever lived. I also called on Captain Chambers, captain of the ' Ocean,' who lives on shore, and chatted with his daughters, three in number, and agreeable, — eldest pretty and rather literary — good people all. I also called on Mr Warden, surgeon, who used to live in Ann Street. I found him and his wife and family snugly CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADROX. 371 situated in a good house, and civil to a degree. I dined on board the ' Ocean :' officers of that ship deUghtful fellows, and over- whelmed me with kindness. ^'■Saturday the 4th. — The 'Snake' gun-brig from Woolwich appeared in the offing going down the river, and the ' Ocean ' ■saluted her with twelve guns. At mid-day the ' Vernon ' manned her yards, a beautiful sight, while we received the Admiral. I lunched on board the ' Ocean,' and dined in the ' Vernon,' having inspected all the docks and the model-room, and seen Sheerness completely. In the evening we were towed out to the Nore. On Sunday the ^fh, we weighed anchor by daylight, and the ' Vernon " for the first time expanded her wings in flight. She was accom- panied by the Duke of Portland's celebrated yacht the ' Clown,' whom she beat going before the wind, but we had no other kind of trial till we cast anchor off the Sark in the 'Swin' off Norwich. Monday the 6th. — Weighed anchor at day-light with a fine breeze, and went into the Downs. Off Ramsgate, were joined by the 'Snake' and 'Pantaloon' gun-brigs, the latter the best sailer of her size ever known. It came on to blow fresh, and for several hours we tried it on upon a wind, having been joined by a number of cutters. The 'Vernon ' rather beat the rest, but in my opinion not very far, the ' Pantaloon ' sticking to her like wax. But our sails are not yet stretched, and the opinion on board is, that she will, in another week or so, beat all opponents. The day was fine, and the sight beautiful, as we cruised along the white cliffs of Dover, and then well over towards the French coast. At sunset we returned before the wind to the Downs, and the squadron ('Vernon,' 'Snake,' 'Pantaloon,' and 'Clown') cast anchor off Deal, surrounded by a great number of vessels. " Tuesday the 'jth. — The squadron left their anchorige before Deal about twelve o'clock, with a strong breeze ; the ' Clown ' and 'Pantaloon' being to windward of the 'Vernon,' and the 'Snake ' rather to leeward. This position was retained for nearly two hours, when the ' Snake ' dropped considerably astern, and the ' Vernon ' weathered the ' Pantaloon,' the ' Clown ' still keeping to windward and crossing our bows. At this juncture it blew hard, and I went down, with Collier and Symonds to dinner in their cabin. The 372 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. ' Vernon ' was now left in charge of the first lieutenant, and in tacking missed stays. The ' Snake ' and ' Pantaloon ' immediately went to windward, and we were last of all. It still blew very fresh, and in about two hours we again headed the squadron, all but the 'Clown,' who continued first all along. Towards sunset the wind came off the land, where the ' Snake ' and ' Pantaloon ' were, and brought them to windward of us about two miles, and so ended the day's trial, with alternate success. The 'Snake' and 'Pantaloon' then came down by signal under the 'Vernon's' stern, and we continued all night in company under easy sail, the wind havin^^ slackened, and the moon being clear and bright. " Wednesday 2>th. — At seven o'clock found ourselves off Beachv Head with the 'Clown' a long way to leeward, the 'Snake' to windward, and the ' Pantaloon ' in our wake. The wind had shifted during the night, and we had the advantage of it. But towards morning it had fallen, and we made but two knots an hour. The calm continued during the day, and we made but little wav. Early in the afternoon a miserable accident occurred. The crew- were up aloft lowering the main top-gallant yard. It is a spar about seventy feet long, and about sixty feet above the deck. As it was coming down, a man slid along it to release a rope from a block, when, by some mistake, the men above cut the rope he was holdin--^ by, and in sight of us all he descended with great velocity, clinging to the spar till he came to the end of it, and then witii outstretched arms fell about forty feet upon the deck, within three yards of where I was standing. The crash was dreadful, and he was instantly carried below, affairs going on just as if he had been a spider. It was found that his right arm was shattered to pieces, and his whole frame shook fatally. He continued composed and sensible lor three hours when he began to moan wofuUy, and in half an hour he expired. He was a Scotsman of tlae name of Murray, one of the best men in the ship, and brother, it is said, of a clergyman. No doubt many felt for him, but the noise, laughter, swearing, and singing, went on during all the time he was dying. " Thursday C)th. — The ship has been making considerable way during the night, and at eight o'clock we are off the Isle of Wight ; 'Snake' and 'Pantaloon' about two miles behind, all three soin" CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 373 before the wind. The dead man is lying on the gun-deck, separated from where I now sit by a thin partition. The body is wrapped in flatrs. and the walls at his head and back are hung with cutlasses and the muskets of the marines. His weather-beaten face is calm and smiling, and ' after life's fitful fever he sleeps well.' The night before, he was one of the most active in a jig danced to the fifes. The wind is freshening, and we expect to be off Plymouth (120 miles) by midnight. We have sprung one of our yards, and the fore-mast seems shaken, so we shall put into Plymouth to refit, and probably remain there three days. It is not unlikely that the Admiral (Malcolm) may join us there. If not, we shall sail for Cork (distant 300 miles), and then, perhaps, the experimental squadron will begin its career. We have no more fear of fighting, neither do we know where we may be going, but my own opinion is that we shall cruise in the Channel. I do not see that I can be at home sooner than a month at the soonest, as all that I came to see remains yet to be seen. I am not without hopes of getting a letter from you before we leave Plymouth. I meet with all kindness from everybody, and am pleased with the on-goings of a sea-life, though the bustle and disturbance is greater than I had imagined, and the noise incessant and beyond all description. But my appetite is good, and I am never heard to utter a complaint All day wind light, but towards evening it freshened, and at seven we committed the body of the poor sailor to the deep. The funeral ceremony was most impressive. Before nightfall the 'Snake' came up with a fresh breeze, and we had another contest, in which the 'Vernon' was fairly beaten. In smooth water and moderate winds the ' Snake ' is at present her master, much to my surprise ; when it blows hard we are superior. Friday lotk. — This morning at four we entered Plymouth. The country around is very beautiful, and young Captain Blackwood and I are proposing to go on shore. How long we remain here seems uncertain. I hope it may not be above a day or two. "Captain Blackwood and self have been perambulating Plymouth, and intend to dine at the hotel thereof. " I have written a tolerably long letter. God bless you all, and true it is that I think of you every hour, and hope you now and 374 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON: then think of me too. Kindest love to all the progeny, John, Mag, Moll, Blair, and Umbs, believe me yours most affectionately, "J. Wilson. "Write to me again on receipt of this, and enclose as before to Mr Barrow of the Admiralty. The enclosed signature of my name, Johnny will give to Robert Blackwood, who will get my half-year's salary from the City Chamberlain, which you will get from the said Bob. Send ^lo to Elleray, and account to me for the rest of the enomious sum. * I enclosed ^^5 in my last from Sheerness. Once more love to yourself and to children, and farewell. I will write from Cork.— Yours, J. W." " Plymouth, August 23^?. " My dearest Jane, — I have, as you know, received your first long united epistle, and answered it in a hurried letter, telling you to wTite to me direct to Plymouth. Before that I wrote a long journal letter enclosing my signature for a receipt, which no doubt you have received. To wait for the post of that era (the day after my long letter, August 10), 1 went up the Tamar with Captain Blackwood, and after an excursion of three days returned to Plymouth. On Tuesday the 14th I dined on board the 'Malta,' Captain Clavell, with a large party, and that evening went aboard the 'Campeadora' schooner, a pleasure-yacht belonging to Mr Williamson, from Liver- pool (nephew to old Shaw thereof, who, I understand, was a rich and well-bied personage), and sailed with him to Portsmouth, distant from Plymouth 150 miles. I passed two days at Portsmouth viewing all the great works tliere ; and returned to Plymouth on Saturday the 17th, by a steamer; a most stormy passage. Saturday and Sunday I dined on board the 'Vernon;' and on the Sunday I wrote to you the hurried letter above alluded to. On Monday the 19th, I dined with Mr Roberts, the master ship-builder of the docks, and met some naval and military officers. Tuesday the 20th was an a'-day's rain, and I kept all day in a lodging room with Captain Williams, R.N., and his brother, the purser of the 'Vernon.' Wed- nesday the 2ist was a fine day, but I went nowhere, except on * The Professor's "salary " was ^-j'z, 4s. 4d. per annum. CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 375 board a few ships ; and it being electioneering time here, I heard some speeches from Sir Edward Codrington and others. I dined with a party oi offishers at the hotel. To-day (Ihursday the 22d) I saw Sir F. Collier, who informed me that the squadron of Sir P. Malcolm, consisting of seven sail, were in the offing, and that the •Vernon' is to join them to-morrow at 12 a.m. We are conse- quendy all in a bu3tle ; and my next letter will be from the first port we put into. This is the night of the said Thursday; I am on shore writing this. I hope that a letter from you will reach us to-morrow before we sail, though I fear not, because Mr Barrow is at Portsmouth, and that may have delayed your letter. The letter which you were to write direct according to former instructions, to Plymouth, will be sent after us ere long. On receiving this please to write to me, directed to 711 e under cover to Mr Barroiv, Admiralty. and it will be forwarded with the Admiral's letters. The cruise begins to-morrow, and two months have been spent, as you will see, in another way. I shall take two or three weeks of the cruise, as it would be stupid to return without seeing the experimental squadron. I shall write to you by the first steamer or tender that takes letters from the squadron. I do not think we are going very far. Several balls and concerts were about to be given us, but our orders have come at last rather unexpectedly, and all the ladies are in tears. I forgot to say that, on Monday the 13th, I dined, not on board the ' Vernon,' but in the Admiral's house, with a splendid party. The 'Vernon' has been much attacked in the newspapers, but my account of her in my long letter is the correct one. I think in strong breezes she will beat the squadron. In light winds she may prove but an ' Endeavour.' I shall say no more of my hopes and fears about your letter to-morrow ; but this I will say, and truly, that I think of you all three or seven times a day, or haply twentv- one. I suppose the lads have gone to EUeray, according to my permission in my last, and with the means of doing so afforded by the stamp-receipt. I will write to you again before long ; I hope it will not be very long before I return. Tell the girls to be sensible and good gals. Love to them and the lads, if these latter be with you ; and do not doubt, my dearest Jane, that I am and ever will be, your affectionate . John Wilson." 376 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON: "Campeadora Schooner, Plymouth, Atigust 31, 1832. " My dearest Jane, — After some anxiety from not hearing from you, your letter of the 23d, direct to Plymouth, reached me the day before yesterday, and informed me that all are well. I cannot conjecture what has become of your other letters, but I liave received only one long one written conjunctly, and your own of the 23d. Any or all intermediate must still be with Mr Barrow. I presume tliat Sym has told you within these few days that he has heard from me, and I now sit down to inform you further of my proceedings. The squadron are now collected, and we have been sailing with strong breezes. The first day there was no right trial ; the second, from Torbay to near Plymouth and back again, was .ilso inconclusive. The chief struggle was between the 'Snake,' 'Castor,' and 'Vernon.' When going under full sail, in the same tack, close-hauled to the wind, the 'Vernon' was considerably ahead, the 'Castor' next, and the 'Snake' trying to shoot across the 'Castor's' bow, but without success. The 'Castor' carried away her jib-boom, and signal was thereupon made by the Admiral for us to flit about. The ' Castor' stood in, and we crossed her to windward only fifty yards. As she was more than fifty yards behind when we started, her people claimed the victory, but it was obviously no go. The day grew very boisterous, and we got safe at sunset into Torbay. On Sunday (the day following), I visited the Admiral, as told in my letter to Sym. On Monday we lay at rest. I am sorry to say, that on entering Torbay on Saturday night, a man fell overboard, and was drowned. On Wednesday morning, at four o'clock, the squadron got under weigh and left Torbay. I had gone on board the 'Campeadora' the night before, and slept there on condition that a look-out should be kept on the movements of the 'Vernon.' Judge of my feelings (mixed) when awakened at seven, and told all the ships had been gone for several hours. At eight we weighed anchor and followed the fleet. The tide favoured US, and so did a strong breeze from the land, and in a few hours we discovered the squadron some leagues ahead, but to leeward, and they were all racing, and, as we neared, I had a beautiful view of all their motions. The 'Snake' was two miles ahead of all the CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 377 others ; the ' Vernon ' and ' Prhice ' were next, and close together. The 'Trmculo' followed, then the 'Nmirod;' next came the 'Castor,' and, finally, the 'Donegal;' the 'Dryad 'had been sent to Portsmouth, and the 'Tyne' to Plymouth the day before. It now came on to blow very hard, and the waves ran hillocks high ; frequent squalls darkened the sky, and shut out the ships, which ever and anon re-appeared like phantoms. They seemed to retain their positions. Meanwhile we kept to windward, and ahead of them all, but with a pitching, and a tossing, and a rolling no mortal stomach could withstand. Still, though occasionally sick, I enjoyed the storm. My hat flew overboard, and we were all as wet as if in the sea. There was no danger, and the vessel was admirably managed, but she was liker a fish than a bird. Between four and five in the afternoon the 'Campeadora' dropt anchor behind the breakwater in Plymouth Sound. In rather more than half-an-hour the 'Snake' did the same; in another half-an-hour in came the 'Prince;' in quarter of an hour more the 'Vernon;' and shortly after the 'Trinculo' and the 'Nimrod;' the 'Castor' and 'Donegal' were obliged to lie off during the night. The race was fifty miles, beating to windward, and in blowy weather. The ' Vernon ' was, at the end, seven miles ahead of the ' Castor,' her chief competitor, they being the only two frigates, and built by rivals, Symonds and Jeff'rys. As soon as I got myself dried, and my hunger appeased, I joined the 'Vernon,' and joined the ofticers in the gun-room, crowing over the 'Castor.' They had sold all my effects by auction, and had considered me a deserter. The night was passed somewhat boisterously, but the name of the Campeado?-a tiever once vientio7ied ! ! ! ! She had beaten them all like sacks, and I therefore behaved as if I had come from Torbay in a balloon. Next day (Thursday) we remained all anchored behind the breakwater. Your welcome letter I received on board the ' Vernon,' the evening of the race. I asked one of the officers what he thought of the ' Campeadora,' who had left Torbay three hours after the squadron, and anchored in the Sound of Plymouth half-an-hour before the ' Snake.' His answer was, ' That he had not seen her ! that we had not sailed with the squadron at all ; and had been brought in by the tide and the land breeze ' ! ! ! The tide and land breeze had 378 MEMOIR OF JOHN W/LSOy. helped to bring us up with the squadron ; but for five hours we had beat them all, as I said, /lA'e sacks into our anchorage. The whole officers joined with my antagonist in argument, and it has been settled among them that the 'Campeadora' did not sail with the squadron, and that she beat nobody ! Such, even at sea, is the littleness of men's souls ; it is worse even than on Windermere at a regatta. This is Friday (the 31st), and I slept last night in the ' Campeadora.' I shall keep this letter open till I hear something of our intended motions, which I hope to do on boarding the < Admiral.' The 'Vernon' is said to be 7vef, because when it blows hard, and she sails upon a wind, the spray spins over her main top-gallant mast. This it seems is reckoned a great merit. As to the noise on board — for it consists of everlasting groaning, howling, yelling, cursing, and swearing, which is the language in which all orders are given and executed — never less than 200 men are prancing on her decks, and occasionally 500 ; windlasses are ever at work, and iron cables are letting out and taking in, which rumble like thunder. Gun-carriages (two tons and a half heavy are perpetually rolled about to alter her tn'tn, and ever and anon cannon fired close to your ears (32-pounders) which might waken the dead. Drums, too, are rolling frequently, and there are at all times the noise of heavy bodies falling, of winds whistling, and waves beating up to any degree. But all these noises are nothing compared to Jwly-stoning ! This is the name given to scrubbing decks. A hundred men all fall at once upon their knees, and begin scrubbing the decks with large rough stones called holy- stones ; this continues every morning from four o'clock to five, and is a noise that beggars all description. I sleep in the cock-pit, a place below both decks, in a swinging cot, which is very coujfort- able. But as soon as the decks are done, down come a dozen Jacks, and holy-stone the floor of the cock-pit, without taking any notice of me, who am swinging over their heads. That being over, all the midshipmen whose chests are in the cock pit, come in to wash, and shave, and dress. You had better not imagine the scene that then ensues. As soon as the majority of them are gone, I get up, and, at half-past seven. Captain Coryton of the Marines gives me his cabin to wash and dress in. I do so every morning, and CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 379 the luxury of washing too became known to me for the first time ; for you get covered with dust, and sand, and paint by day and night, to say nothing of tar and twine ; in short, everything but feathers. The eating is excellent, and the drinking not bad, though sometimes rather too much of it " I have, since writing the above, seen Sir F. Collier, who informs me we start to-morrow forenoon (September ist) for the coast of Ireland. I shall go ; and if the squadron does not return soon to Portsmouth, I shall sail from Cork to some northern port, and so home, I will write to you by the first opportunity, and I believe one will occur in a week. Love to the girls. I am happy to hear that Molly is getting on with her singing, and she may depend on my being pleased with her chanson. Meg is, no doubt, now a Sontag; perhaps Umbs may also prove a songstress. The boys by this time have, I suppose, been a while at EUeray. Narcotic is a good word for the Opium-Eater, but I read it hare-skin. I have just heard that another letter is lying for me on shore. I hope it is from some of you ; but I cannot get it, I fear, till the morning, and I am this hour again on board the ' Vernon,' and it is blowing so hard that no boats are going on shore. " I therefore conclude with warmest and sincerest affection for thyself and all our children. Give my kindest remembrances to my sister Jane, who, I devoutly trust, will continue to improve in health, and, ere long, be well. You are now but a family of four females, so be all good boys, and believe that I will be happy to be with you again, when I hope you will be happy to see again the old man. Once more, with love to you and the three Graces, I am, my dearest Jane, ever yours most affectionately, "John Wilson. •"Vernon," off Plymouth, August sisi." "Land's End, T-uesday Evening, September a^th. "About eight o'clock morning we were off the Scilly Isles, and observed a steamer. It contained the Admiralty and other grandees. Sir C. Paget, Sir F. Maitland, and Admiral Dundas came on board at nine, and at ten signal was made for all ships to close upon the 380 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. ' Vernon.' The wind was light but steady, and the day beautiful. We sailed till five o'clock (seven hours) in charming style, but it would take a volume to narrate all our evolutions. For the greater part of the time the 'Waterwitch' kept first, and then the 'Vernon,' the ' Snake ' having outmanoeuvred herself by passing too close to windward. The 'Castor' sailed well, but kept dropping to leeward. At half-past four the 'Vernon' weathered the 'Waterwitch' and 'Snake,' and led the squadron. This was done by fair sailing, on which the Admiral made signal to shorten sail, which was done ; and the grandees left us and went on board the steamer, which set off for Portsmouth. Sir Pulteney then came on board the 'Vernon,' and acknowledged we had beaten the squadron. The 'Castor' was four miles to leeward, the ' Stag ' six, and the ' Donegal ' eight ! the ' Nimrbd ' as far ; but the ' Waterwitch ' and ' Snake ' were only a quarter of a mile under our lee. The triumph of the ' Vernon ' is declared complete, but, in my opinion, the 'Waterwitch' and 'Snake 'may beat her another day; the 'Castor' cannot, in any wind. The Admiral has just left us, and if weather permit. Sir F. Collier and the Professor will dine to-morrow on board the 'Donegal.' We are now making sail back to the 'Lizard,' where, in the morning, a boat will come from shore for our letters. We will then put about for the coast of Ireland, as Sir Pulteney himself has told me ; and therefore, my dearest Jane, either yourself or the lasses, that is, the gals, must write to me, if possible, the evening you receive this — His Majesty s Ship ' Vernoji,' Cork — without any reference to Barrow, and I shall get it probably before we leave that harbour. That will be the last time I shall hear from you before I return ; and from Cork I will write to Sym, who will probably send you my letter, or part of it. Pray keep my letters for sake of the dates, for I have not been able to keep a journal. A good many things have occurred on board within these few days, but I have no room to narrate them. Warmest love to the pro- geny, who, I hope, do not forget him who tenderly loveth them. I expect to find them all grown on my return, and Catalani jealous of Sontag. I send them all kisses and prayers for their happiness, and for that of one of the best of wives to her affectionate husband, " John Wilson." CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 381 "Off the Lizard, September 5, 1832. " My dearest Jane, — I wrote a tolerably long letter the day before we left Plymouth, which was on Tuesday the 4th. I had then received three letters from you, including one that had been sent to Cork. I therefore knew that you were all well on the 23d August, and trust I believe you are so now. The squadron left port with a light leading wind, consisting of ' Donegal,' ' Vernon,' 'Castor,' 'Stag' (a 46 frigate), 'Nimrod/ 'Snake,' and 'Waterwitch.' The ' Dryad ' is paid off being a bad sailer, and the ' Tyne ' sails for South America in a itw days, and belongs no more to our flag. 'I'he 'Trinculo' has gone to Cork, and the 'Prince' is at Plymouth. In beating out, 'Vernon' missed stays, and drifted, stern foremost, aboard the ' Castor,' with no inconsiderable crash, staving her boat in the slings, and making much cordage spin. We got off, however, without any damage of any consequence, and towards night were off the Eddystone lighthouse. There was very little difference in the rate of going between 'Vernon' and 'Castor.' The 'Castor' rather beat us the first two hours, but at sunset (when sail is always taken in) we were to windward about 200 yards ; the ' Snake,' as usual, a mile at least ahead, and to windward of us all. All night we kept under easy sail in 'our Admiral's lee,' and on Monday morning at six o'clock, signal was made for us to spread all our canvas, and try it before the wind. We soon got into a cluster, the breeze being so light as to be almost a calm, and so we carried on in a pretty but tedious style for the greater part of the day, our prows being in the direction of Falmouth. The Lords of the Admiralty are there at present, and I suppose we shall touch in this evening. They were at Plymouth, and I was introduced to one of them. Admiral Dundas, who was very civil ; so was Sir C. Paget and Sir F. Maitland, the latter of whom invited me to see him at Portsmouth on our return, he being Admiral on that station. Sir J. Graham I did not see, as we were at dinner when he came on board the 'Vernon.' Sir Pulteney has been extremely kind, and is a good old man. I had not heard of poor Mina's death, and asked how she was, when he gave me the intelligence. She was a good woman, in my opinion. She died of dropsy, and had 382 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. sufifered much, but bore u like a Christian. We have just caught sight of an enormous lizard, so large that it is called 'The Lizard,' and we are all to lie under its shadow till morning, so good-night" "Cork, Friday, 14/A Sept. 1832. "My dearest Jane, — I wrote to you on the 5//;, off the Lizard, and since then have enjoyed a week's capital cruising in all kinds of winds, except a positive storm. Your last letter received was the 29M of August ; and I am in hopes of getting your answer to mine of the 5th to-night. If I do not, I shall leave orders at the post- office to send it on to London, where I hope to be in a week from this day. But in case any accident should happen, I wish one of you to write to me, the same day you get this, directed to vie at ' Union Hotel, Charing Cross, London, to lie till called for, telling me that you are all well. I shall be at Portsmouth (necessarily) a day or two before I go to London, but shall not stay in the metropolis more than one day. I rather think I shall come down to Edinburgh by land, for a steam-boat after the 'Vernon' will be rather dull, and at this season rolls most infernally. In that case I shall go by York ; for I do not wish to trouble EUeray at present for sufficient reasons. As I shall travel outside, I shall probably stay a day at York ; but I will write you a day before I leave London, communi- cating particulars, and you will see me before long, "On Tuesday the nth, we entered the Cove of Cork at sunset ; the squadron at four o'clock. On Wednesday the 12th, I setoff on foot for the city of Cork, distant thirteen miles, a most beautiful walk. At nine o'clock, I took a seat in the mail-coach, and was off for Killarney. In the coach were a Captain and Mrs Baillie, young people who had been in India, and near relatives of the Major and Mrs Barlow. We became friends. "At Killarney found that Mrs Cashel * was not there f ought to have known that before. Stormy night, so kept snug in a good inn. Thursday 13th, left Killarney in a jingle at five o'clock in the morning, and arrived at Marino Lodge, on the Kenmare, distance twenty miles, before nine o'clock. Found the family all well, except Mrs Cashel, who has an asthmatic cough, which mention to * His sister. CRUISE WITH THE EXPERIMENTAL SQUADRON. 383 nobody. I will amuse you whcji we meet with my account of my visit to that quarter. Nothing could exceed their kindness, and she admires you beyond all. On Friday the 14th, left Marino Lodge in a taxed cart at five o'clock, and went nearly twenty miles through mountains to a place on the Cork road, where the mail overtook us. Got in — and afterwards out — after being twice upset, and three times half upset. More of that anon ; no bones broken. I have just dined in the coffeeroom with three very agreeable Irish- men, whose names I do not know, but who asked me to drink wine as the Professor. I am just about to set off for the ' Vernon ' in a jingle; and I hear that we sail to-morrow (Saturday the 15th), at five o'clock, A.M. Indeed, Sir F. Collier told me so before I left the ship. I thought it would or might seem unkind not to see Grace when I was in Ireland, and therefore I travelled 160 miles for that purpose, being with them just twenty hours. You must not be incensed with the shortness of this letter, for you must perceive that I have been in a dreadful racket. I intend writmg another letter to Sym on our way up to Portsmouth ; but do not say any- thing about it. If your letter has come thus far, it will be lying for me to-night on board the 'Vernon.' Tenderest love to the Graces, and also to the lads at EUeray. I hope you will be kind to the old man on his return — all of you. Yours ever, most affec- tionately, John Wilson." " Union Hotel, Charing Cross, Tuesday Afternoon, September ^^tli, 1832. " My dearest Jane, — The ' Vernon ' anchored at Spithead this day week, and the day following I wrote to Sym, who would tell you of my welfare. I got your Cork letter on the Thursday, and on Friday I bade farewell to the ' Varmint ' (as she is called), and dined on shore with the Williamses, who have a house at Ports- mouth. That night I took coach to London, where I an-ived about six o'clock, and went to bed for some hours. I found your letter lying for me soon after breakfast, and was rejoiced to find you were all well. On Saturday Dr Maginn dined with me ; and on Sunday I called on Mrs S. C. Hall and husband. Miss Landon, and Thomas Campbell, with the last, not least, of whom I passed the evening. 384 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSOX. There is a Captain Coryton (of the Marines) on board the 'Vernon,' whose wife and family live at Woolwich. I promised to call on them to tell them about him, and his mode of life, and did so on Monday, having walked thither and back (about twenty miles). He is to be absent for three years in South America. I returned to London by seven, and dined with a German Baron, whose name I can neither spell nor pronounce, a Polish Patriot (not Shirma), and a French royalist. On Tuesday, that is, this day, after some busi- ness connected with my cruise, I called on Mrs Jamieson, author of King Charles's Beauties. She is very clever, middle-aged, red- haired, and agreeable, though I suspect you would call her a con- ceited minx. She is to send some Italian airs to the guitar for Maggie, to the hotel this evening. I am going to dine to-day at the Literary Union, with Campbell and some others. To-morrow I shall be busy all day, calling on naval officers, and at the Admiralty, nor could I have sooner done so. And on Thursday, I shall leave London for York in one of the morning coaches. This will enable me to stop some hours there to rest, and I shall be in Edinburgh on Saturday afternoon ; I do not know at what hour, but I believe two or three after the mail, unless I take my place in the mail from York. The gals can ask Bob at what hour any coach arrives in Edinburgh from York, besides the mail. I should think he will know. But should anything detain me, it will only be my not getting a place at York. The gals may take a look at the mail, perhaps on Saturday. I need say no more than that I shall be truly happy to find you all well and happy, as you deserve to be. God bless you all. Yours ever affectionately, John Wilson." LITERARY A.VD DOMESl'IC LIFE. 385 CHAPTER XIV. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 1832-37- The following letter will be read with interest : — • " London, Novemher 30, 1832. "Sir, — You have often, and 'on the Rialto' too, twitted me with an addition to Sonnets, and 'such small deer' of poetry, sometimes in a spirit of good-humour, at others in that tone of raillery which is so awful to young gentlemen given to rhyming love and dove. Yet, notwithstanding the terrors of your frown, I think there is so much of the milk of human kindness blending up with that rough nature of yours, as would prevent you willingly hurting the weak and the defenceless ; on the contrary, if Master Feeble ac- knowledged his failing in a becoming manner, I can believe that you would put the timid gentleman on his legs, pat his head, cocker his alarmed features into a complacent smile, and, giving him something nice, washing it down with a jorum of whisky-toddy, send him home to his lodgings and landlady with your compliments, so that I, you will perceive, have no bad opinion of your honship. " You can do me a great good ; and when I assure you, which I do seriously and in all sincerity, that I seek not your favour in the spirit of vanity, that I may plume myself with it hereafter j and when I tell you that I have ventured on this publication not to exalt myself, but, if possible, to benefit some poor relations, weighed down by the pressure of our bad times, I am sure that I may rely on your appreciating my motive, whatever you may think of the means I have taken to work it out. "One thing more I wouU say; th^se poems, such as they are, 2 B 380 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. are the productions of a self-educated man, who, in his tenth year of childhood, with little more than a knowledge of his Readiiv*^ Made Easy, was driven out into the world to seek his bread, and pick up such acquirements as he could meet with ; these are not many, for he was not lucky enough to meet with many. This is a fact which I do not care that the public should know, for what has that monster so well off for heads to do with it; nor perhaps, have vou ; I have mentioned it merely because I could not conceal it at this moment, when the disadvantages it has surrounded me with return upon me like old grievances for a time forgotten, but come back again to ' sight and seeing,' as palpable as ever, and as pro- voking. " Enough of myself. There are many errors in the book staring me out of countenance. While it was in the press I was danger- ously ill, and, therefore, paid but little and distracted attention to it. Think, then, as mercifully of me and mine as you can; and though, when you are frolicsome, you love to spatter us poor Cockneys, sometimes justly enough, at others not so, believe that I can candidly appreciate the power and the beauty of some parts of Blackwood's Magazine, and that I am, all differences notwithstand- ing, your humble servant, In my mother's letters during 1833 and 1834, the strong political feelings of the time are occasionally exhibited. In one she says : — We are all terribly disgusted and annoyed at the result of the late elections. I never look into a newspaper now ; and my only comfort is in reading the political papers in Blackiuood, and remembering that I have lived in the times of the Georges." Again she writes, "What do you think of Church and State affairs? We are in a pretty way ; oh, for the good old times ! Thank Heaven, while Mr Wilson can hold a pen, it will be wielded in defence of the right cause." His pen, indeed, was not allowed to lie idle at this time, as the reader will find by referring to his contributions. During 1833-34 he wrote no fewer than fifty-four articles for Black- * The signature of this letter has been torn off, but the letter itself is endorsed " from Charles Lamb to Professor Wilson." I am, however, afraid that it is not the production of " Elia," and as I am not familiar with the handwriting. I cannot say vho is \\Titer, or whether the appeal was responded to. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 3S7 wood, or upwards of 2400 closely printed columns on politics and general literature. Among these were reviews of Ebenezer Elliot * and Audubon the ornithologist, which called forth interesting and characteristic replies. FROM EBENEZER ELLIOT. "Sheffield, Zth May 1834. " Mr Professor, — I do not write merely to thank you for your almost fatherly criticism on my poetry, but to say, that when I sent that unhappy letter, addressed, I suppose, to the Editor of Black- wood's Magazine, I knew not that the Professor was the editor. I had been told that the famous rural articles were yours, and the ' Noctes.' This was all I knew of that terrible incarnation of the Scotch Thistle, Christopher North. I had judged from his portrait on the cover of the Magazine. I understand it is a true portrait of Mr Blackwood, whose name even now involuntarily brings before my imagination a personage ready to flay poor Radicals alive. When at length I understood you was the editor, I still thought you was only the successor of C. North, the dreadful. The letter must have been the result of despair. The Monthly Revieiv had stricken me on the heart with a hand of ice, but I had failed to attract the attention of the critics generally ; and perhaps I then thought that even an unfavourable notice in Blackwood would be better than none. But when I was told, a few days ago, that I was reviewed in ' Maga,' I expected I was done for, never to hold up my head again. Having no copy of the letter, I know not what vileness it may contain, besides the sad vulgarity f unfortunately quoted, and for which I blush through my marrow; but on the word of a poet, whose fiction is truth, when I wrote it I was no more aware, than if you had never been born, that I was writing to Professor Wilson. I should hate myself if I could deliberately have sent a disrespectful letter to the author of those inimitable * Ebenezer Elliot, the Corn-Law Rhymer, was born in 17S1 ; he died in 1849. •f- " Mr Elliott was pleased, a good while ago, in a letter, the reverse of flattering, addressed to us, and \vTitten with his own hard hoof of a hand, to call us ' a big blue-bottle,' but we bear no resemblance to that insect," etc. — From " Poetry of E. VlUio'.t," \n Blackwood's Magazine, May 1834. J 88 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. rural pictures, which, before God, I believe have lengthened my days on earth. "After your almost saintly forbearance, I must not bother you about the Corn-Laws ; but I will just observe that, in our Island of Jersey, where (perjury \sic\ excepted) the trade in corn is free, land lets much higher than in England. But is it not a shame that wheat should be sent from Holland to Jersey, after incurring heavy charges, and the Dutchman's profit, and then be sent to England as the produce of Jersey? Poor John Bull paying for all out of his workhouse wages, or the sixteen-pence which he receives for fourteen hours' factory labour in the climate of Jamaica. " What is to follow such legislation ? — I am, with heartfelt respect and thankfulness, Ebenezer Elliot." I cannot resist giving a passage from an article which afforded the author of the Corn-Law Rhymer so much genuine pleasure : — " Ebenezer Elliott does — not only now and then, but often — • ruralize ; with the intense passionateness of a fine spirit escaping from smoke and slavery into the fresh air of freedom — with the tenderness of a gentle spirit communing with Nature in Sabbath- rest. Greedily he gulps the dewy breath of morn, like a man who has been long suffering from thirst drinking at a wayside well. He feasts upon the flowers — with his eyes, with his lips; he walks along the grass as if it were cooling to his feet. The slow typhus fever perpetual with townsmen is changed into a quick gladsome glow, like the life of life. A strong animal pleasure possesses the hmbs and frame of the strong man released from labour, yet finding no leisure to loiter in the lanes — and away with him to the woods and rocks and heaven-kissing hills. But that is not all his pleasure — though it might suffice, one would think, for a slave. Through all his senses it penetrates into his soul — and his soul gets wings and soars. Yes ; it has the wings of a dove, and flees away • — and is at rest ! Where are the heaven-kissing hills in Hallam- shire? Here, and there, and everywhere — for the sky stoops down lo kiss them — and the presence of a poet scares not away, but consecrates their embraces ' Under ihe opening eyelids of the morn." LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 389 Of such kind is the love of nature that breaks out in all the com- positions of this town-bred poet. Nature to him is a mistress whom he cannot visit when he will, and whom he wooes, not stealthily, but by snatches — snatches torn from time, and shortened by joy that 'thinks down hours to moments.' Even in her sweet companionship he seems scarcely ever altogether forgetful of the place from which he made his escape to rush into her arms, and clasp her to his breast. He knows that his bliss must be brief, and that an iron voice, like a knell, is ringing him back to dust and ashes. So he smothers her with kisses — and tearing himself away — again with bare arms he is beating at the anvil, and feels that man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards. For Ebenezer Elliott, gentle reader, is a worker in iron ; that is— to use his own words — '■a dealer in steel, working hard every day ; literally labouring luith my head and hands, and, alas, with my heart tool If you think the steel-trade, in these profitless days, is not a heavy, hard- working trade, come and break a ton.' " We have worked at manual labour for our amusement, but, it was so ordered, never for bread; for reefing and reeving can hardly be called manual labour — it comes to be as facile to the fingers as the brandishing of this present pen. We have ploughed, sowed, reaped, mowed, pitchforked, threshed ; and put heart and knee to the gavelock hoisting rocks. But not for a day's darg, and not for bread. Now here lies the effectual and vital distinction between the condition of our poet and his critic— between the condition of Ebenezer Elliott and that of all other poets, except Robert Burns.'"* The next letter is from Mr Audubon :t — " My dear Friend,— The first hour of this new-year was ushered to me surrounded by my dear flock, all comfortably seated around a small table, in a middle-sized room, where I sincerely wished you had been also, to witness the flowing gladness of our senses, as from one of us ' Audubon's Ornithological Biography ' was read from your ever-valuable Journal. I wished this because I felt assured that your noble heart would have received our most grateful thanks with pleasure, the instant our simple ideas had conveyed to * Blacktvood' s Magazine, May 1834. t 1. J. AuduLon, aull.or of The Birds of America, etc., died in 1851. 390 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. vou the grant of happiness we experienced at your hands. You were not with us, alas! but to make amends the best way we could, all of a common accord drank to the heahh, prosperity, and long life, of our generous, talented, and ever kind friend. Professor John Wilson, and all those amiable beings who cling around his heart ! May those our sincerest wishes reach you soon, and may they be sealed by Him who granted us existence, and the joys heaped upon the ' American woodsman ' and his family, in your hospitable land, and may we deserve all the benefits we have received in your ever dear country, although it may prove impossible to us to do more than to be ever gratefiil to her worthy sons. " Accept our respectful united regards, and offer them to your family, whilst I remain, with highest esteem, your truly thankful friend and most obedient servant, John J. Audubon." The next letter is from the Rev. James White :* — " LOXLEY, StRATFORD-ON-AVON, " ^th November 1834. " My dear Sir, — The last was an admirable ' Noctes,' and in my opinion, makes up for the one for July. After describing the party at Carnegie's, who did you mean by the ass that, after braying loud enough to deafen Christopher, went braying all over the Borders? You unconscionable monster, did you mean me? Vicar of the consolidated livings of Loxley and Bray ! 1 console myself with thinking it is something to be mentioned in the 'Noctes,' though in no higher character than an ass. " Have you ever thought of making Hogg a metempsychosist ? what a famous description he would give of his feelings when he was a whale (die one that swallowed Jonah), or a tiger, or an ante- * The Rev. ]. White, of Bonchurch, Isle of Wight, author of Sir Frizzle Pump- kin, Nights at Mess, etc.. and other stories, died March 28, 1862, aged fifty-eight. — " Mr White, says the Edinburgh Courant, who was a native of this country, where his family still possess considerable property, was bom in the year 1804. After studying with success at Glasgow and Oxford, he took orders in the Church of England, and was presented by Lord Brougham to a living in Suffolk, which he a!ti;r\vards gave up for another in Warwicksliire. On ultimately succeeding to a considerable patrimony he retired from the Church and removed with his family to the Isle of Wight, where Mrs White had inherited from her father. Colonel Hill, of St Boniface, a portion of his estate, Bonchurch, so celebrated for its beauty anJ LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 391 fiiluvian aligatdor near the Falls of Niagara, his disgust after being shot as an eagle, to find himself a herd at the head of Ettrick?* "Do you think of coming to England next year? Remember, whenever you do, you have promised me a benefit. Has Blair come up to College yet ? If he has, I wish you would for once write me a letter with his address ; for, as I am only a day's drive from Oxford, I should be most happy to show him this part of the country in the short vacation. My wife desires to be very kindly remembered to you and Mrs Wilson, not forgetting the young ladies. — And I remain, ever yours very truly, James White." Attention to the ordinary course of duties, and the numerous occupations which engrossed his daily life, never stood in the way of my father's endeavours to be useful to his fellow-men. An example of this may be seen in his correspondence with a mutual friend, in order to pacify and to restore Mr Hogg to his former position with Mr Blackwood. This labour, for such it was, ended ultimately to the satisfaction of all parties, and the correspondence which led to that result is truly honourable to the writers. "My dear Shepherd, — From the first blush of the business, I greatly disliked your quarrel with the Blackwoods, and often wished to be instrumental in putting an end to it, but I saw no opening, and did not choose to be needlessly obtrusive. Hearing that you would rather it was made u]), and not doubting that Mr Blackwood would meet you for that jjurpose in an amicable spirit, I volunteer my services — if you and he choose to accept of them — as mediator. " I propose this — that all mere differences on this, and that, and every subject, and all asperities of sentiment or language on either side, be at once forgotten, and never once alluded to — so that there mild climate. His retirement enabled him to devote a considerable share of his time to literary pursuits, which he prosecuted with much success. The pages of Black, icpod were enlivened by many of his contributions of a light kind, too popular and well known to require to be enumerated ; and his later works, including the Eighteen Christian Centuries and the History of France, showed that his industry and accuracy, as well as his good sense and sound judgment, were not inferior to his other and more popular talents." — Gentleman' s Magazine. * This hint appears to have been acted upon, as those who are interested may read the Shepherd's transmigrations fully detailed in the " Noctes " of February 1835, 392 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON: shall be asked no explanation or apology, but each of you continue to think yourself in the right, without taking the trouble to say so. " But you have accused Mr Blackwood in your correspondence with him, as I understand, of shabbiness, meanness, selfish motives, and almost dishonesty. In your Memoir there is an allusion to some transaction about a bill, which directly charges Mr Blackwood with want of integrity. In that light it was received by a knave •and fool in Fraser's Magazine, and on it was founded a public charge of downright dishonesty against a perfectly honourable and honest man. Now, my good Sir, insinuations or accusations of this kind are quite 'another guess matter' from mere ebullitions of temper, and it is impossible that Mr Blackwood can ever make up any quarrel with any man who doubts his integrity. It is your bounden duty, therefore, to make amends to him on this subject. But even here I would not counsel any apology. I would say that it is your duty as an honest man to say fully, and freely, and un- equivocally that you know Mr Blackwood to be one, and in all his dealings with you he has behaved as one. This avowal is no more than he is entitled to from you ; and, of course, it should be taken in lieu of an apology. As to writing henceforth in ' Maga,' I am sure it would give me the greatest pleasure to see the Shepherd adorning that work with his friends again ; and, in that case, it would be graceful and becoming in you to address Mr Blackwood in terms of esteem, such as would remove from all minds any idea that you ever wished to accuse him of want of principle. I should t'nink that would be agreeable to yourself, and that it would be agreeable to all who feel the kindest interest in your character and reputalion. In this way you would both appear in your true colours, and to the best advantage. "As for the Noctes Ambrosiance, that is a subject in which I am chiefly concerned ; and there shall never be another with you in it, if indeed that be disagreeable to you ! ! ! But all the idiots in exis- tence shall never persuade me that in those dialogues you are not respected and honoured, and that they have not spread the fame of your genius and your virtues all over Europe, America, Asia, and Africa. If there be another man who has done more for your fame than / have done, let me know in what region of the moon he has LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 393 taken up his abode. But let the ' Noctes' drop, or let us talk upon that subject, if you choose, that we may find out which of us is insane, perhaps both. " Show this letter to the Grays — our friends — and let them say whether or not it be reasonable, and if any good is likely to result from my services. I have written of my own accord, and without any authority from Mr Blackwood, but entirely from believing that his kindness towards you would dispose him to make the matter up at once, on the one condition which, as an honest man, I would advise him to consider essential, and without which, indeed, he could not listen to any proposal. — I am, my dear Sir, your affec- tionate friend, John Wilson." " My dear Mr Hogg, — Your letter in answer to mine is written as mine was, in a friendly spirit ; but on considering its various contents, I feel that I can be of no use at present in effecting a reconciliation between you and Mr Blackwood. I was induced to offer my services by my own sincere regard for you, and by the wishes of Mrs Izett and Mr Grieve ; but it rarely happens that an unaccredited mediator between offended friends in a somewhat complicated quarrel can effect any good. Should you, at any future time, wish me to give an opinion in this matter, or advice of any sort, you will find me ready to do so with the utmost sincerity. I will merely mention to Mr Grieve, who was desirous of having you and Mr Blackwood and myself to dinner, that I wrote you, and had an answer from you ; but I shall leave you to tell him or not, as you please, what passed between us. That I may not fall into any unintentional mis-statement, I will likewise tell Mr Blackwood the same, and no more, that I may not do more harm than good by having taken any step in the affair. If you never have made any accusation of the kind I mentioned against Mr Blackwood, then am I ignorant of the merits of the case altogether, and my interference is only an additional instance of the danger of volunteering counsel, with erroneous impressions of the relative situation of the parties. I proposed a plan of reconciliation, which seemed to me to make no unpleasant demand on either party, and which was extremely simple ; but it would seem that I took for granted certain accusa- 394 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. lions or insinuations against Mr Blackwood's character as a man of business, which you never made. I am, therefore, in the dark, and require to be instructed, instead of being privileged to counsel. — With every kind sentiment, I am, my dear Sir, yours most sincerely, "John Wilson." In a long letter to Mr Grieve, my father is at great pains to clear up the matter, and effect the much-desired reconciliation on terms honourable to both parties. He says : — " If Mr Hogg puts his return as a writer to 'Maga,' on the ground that ' Maga ' suffers greatly from his absence from her pages, and that Mr B. must be very desirous of his re-assistance, that will at once be a stumbling-block in the way of settlement; for Mr B., whether rightly or wrongly, will not make the admission. No doubt Mr H.'s articles were often excellent, and no doubt the ' Noctes ' were very popular, but the Magazine, however much many readers must have missed Mr Hogg and the 'Noctes,' has been •Gradually increasing in sale, and therefore Mr B. will never give in to that view of the subject. " Mr Hogg, in his letter to me, and in a long conversation I had with him in my own house yesterday after dinner, sticks to his proposal of having ;^ioo settled on him, on condition of writing, and of becoming again the hero of the ' Noctes,' as before. I see many, many difficulties in the way of such an arrangement, and I know that Mr Blackwood will never agree to it in that shape ; for it might eventually prove degrading and disgraceful to both parties, appearing to the public to be a bribe given and taken dishonourably. " But nothing can be more reasonable than for Mr Hogg to make ^loo or more by ' Maga,' and by the Agricultural Journal. If he writes again for both, Mr B. is bound to pay him handsomely and generously as an old friend and man of genius ; and no doubt he will do so, so that if Mr Hogg exert himself to a degree you and I think reasonable, there can be no doubt that he will get ;^ioo or more from Mr Blackwood, without any positive bargain of the kind above mentioned, which might injure Mr Hogg's reputation, and appear to the public in a degrading light. " To insure this, none of Mr Hoggs articles should ever again be LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 395 returned. If now and then any of them are inadmissible they should still be paid for, and Mr Blackwood, I have no doubt, would at once agree to that, so that at the end of the year Mr Hogg would have received his ^100 or more, without any objectionable con- dition, and on reasonable exertions. "And now a few words about myself. The Shepherd, in his letter to me (which you have seen, I believe), seems to say that / ought to settle the ^100 a year on him, and that he is willing to receive it from me, if I think it will be for my own benefit. I have said nothing about this to hitn, but to you I merely say that I never did and never will interfere in any way with the pecuniary concerns of the Magazine, that being the affair of Mr Blackwood ; secondly, that of all the writers in it, / have done most for the least remunera- tion, though Mr B. and I have never once had one word of dis- agreement on that subject ; and thirdly, that it is a matter of the most perfect indifference to me, whether or not I ever again write another * Noctes,' for all that I write on any subject seems to be popular far above its deserts; and considering the great number of ' Noctes ' I have written, I feel very much indisposed ever to resume them.* My own personal gain or loss, therefore, must be put out of sight entirely in this question ; as I can neither gain nor lose by any arrangement between Mr B. and Mr Hogg, though the Shep- herd thinks otherwise. "This, likewise, must and will be considered by Mr Blackwood, whether the ' Noctes ' can be resumed, for if the public supposed that / were influenced by a regard to my own interests in resuming them, I most certainly never would ; and were I to resume them, and Mr Hogg again to prove wilful, and order them to be discon- tinued, I should feel myself placed in a condition unworthy of me. I wrote the ' Noctes ' to benefit and do honour to Mr Hogg, much more than to benefit myself, and but for them, he with all his extra- ordinary powers would not have been universally known as he now is ; for poetical fame, you well know, is fleeting and precarious. After more than a dozen years' acquiescence and delight in the ' Noctes,' the Shepherd, because he quarrelled with Mr Blackwood • My father never wrote another "Noctes " after the Shepherd's death, which took place in 1835. 396 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON^. on other grounds, puts an end to them, which by the bye he had no rMit to do. It is for me to consider whether I can resume them ; but if I do, it must be clearly understood that I am not influenced by self-interest, but merely by a desire to bring back things as they were before, and to contribute my part to an amicable arrangement. "But I will say to you what must not be said to anybody else, tliat if it be necessary, owing to Mr Hogg not writing a sufficient number of articles fit for insertion, to make up some considerable sum towards ^loo per annum bemg given to him, I will certainly contribute half of it along with Mr Blackwood. "There are various other points to be attended to. The Maga- zine now is the least personal periodical existing, and it will continue so. Now Mr Hogg may wish to insert articles about London and so on, that may be extremely personal. Mr Blackwood could not take such articles. He has himself reason to be offended with Mr Hogg's writing about himself, and could not consistently in like manner offend others. Suppose that the Shepherd sent such m.s. for the first year as could not be inserted at all, is Mr Blackwood to be paying him ^loo for nothing? The kind, therefore, of his contributions must be considered by 'James,' though he may still he allowed considerable latitude. " With respect to past quarrels, they should at once be forgotten by both parties, and not a word said about them, except if Mr Hogg has published anything reflecting on Mr Blackwood's integrity. I think he has. That, therefore, must be done away with by the Shepherd in the Magazine itself, but not in the way of apology, but in a manly manner, such as would do honour to himself, and at once put down all the calumnies of others, to which Mr Blackwoo 1 has been unjustly exposed, especially in Frasers Magazijie. All abuse of Mr Blackwood in that work, as founded on his behaviour 10 Mr Hogg, must, by Mr Hogg, be put a stop to ; for if he con- tinues to write in Fraser, and to allow those people to put into his mouth whatever they choose (and they hold him up to ridicule every month after a very different fashion from the Noctes ! !), their al)use of Mr Blackwood will seem to be sanctioned by Mr Hogg, and neutralize whatever he may say in ' Maga.' This is plain. " Consider what I have said attentively, and I will call on you LITERARY AXD DOMESTIC LITE. 397 on Tuesday at two o'clock^ and will explain a few other matters perhaps tedious to write upon. After that, the sooner you see Mr B. the better, and I think an arrangement may be made, in itself reasonable and IjLMieficial to all parties on the above basis. — Youis ever affectionately, John Wilson." The result of these friendly negotiations may be gathered from the "Noctes" of May 1834, in which there is a lively and most amusing description of the Shepherd's return to the bosom of his friends in the tent at the Fairy's Cleugh.* I make use of my mother's words to tell of the plans for the summer of 1834 : — " Our own plans for the summer are to spend four months of it at least, that is, from the 20th June till the 20th October, in Ettrick Forest. The house we have taken, which is furnished, belongs to Lord Napier, who is at present in China, and he wished to get it let for the summer; but, from the retirement of the situation, hardly expected to meet with a tenant for that time. It is called Thirlstane Castle ; the country around is all interesting, being pastoral, with no lack of wood and water, and a great lack of neighbours; we all like retirement, young and old, and look forward, with great satisfaction, to spending a quiet summer." We accordingly took up our quarters at Thirlstane, and enjoyed Ettrick Forest vastly ; the boys had their fishing and shooting ; the very dogs were happy. " The dowgs," as James Hogg called them, shared in all our amusements ; it was here that Rover had his adventure with the witch transformed into a hare. " She was sitting in her ain kail-yaird, the preceese house I dinna choose to mention, when Giraffe, in louping ower the dyke, louped ower her, and she * The whole dialogue, which will be found in the Nodes, May 1834, is too long or quotation, but a few lines of the apology may be given : — - "I'll never breathe a whisper even to my ain heart, at the laneliest hour o' mid- night, except it be when I am saying my prayers, o' ony misunderstanding that ever happened between us twa, either about ' Mawga ' or ony ither topic, as lang's I leeve, an' am no deserted o' my senses, but am left in full possession of the gift of reason ; and I now dicht aff the tablets o' my memory ilka letter o' ony ugly record that the Enemy, taking the advantage o' the corruption o' our fallen nature, contrived to scarify there wi' the pint o' an airn pen, red-het frae yon wicked place. I now dicht them a' aff, just as I dicht aff frae this table the wine-drops wi' ma' sleeve ; and I forgive ye frae the very bottom o' ma sowle," etc., etc. 398 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. g'ed a spang intil the road, turning rQ.und her fud within a yard o' Clavers,* — and then sic a brassle ; a' three thegither up the brae, and then back again in a hairy whirlwind ; twa miles in less than ae minute. She made for the mouth of the syverf, but Rover, wha had happened to be examining it in his inquisitive way, and kent naething o' the course, was coming out just as she was gaun in, an' atween the twa there ensued, unseen in the syver, a desperate battle. Well dune witch ; well dune warlock ; and at ae time I feared, from his yelping an4 howling, that Rover was getting the worst o't, and might lose his life. Auld poosiesj cuff sair wi' their fore-paws, and theirs is a wicked bite. But the outlandish wolfiness in Rover brak forth in extremity, and he cam rushing out o' the syver wi' her in his mouth, shaking her savagely, as if she had been but a ratton, and I had to choke him off. Forbye thrapplin'ing him noo, by a new spat on the thrapple ! ' 'He would rin awa', gin she wud let him loose !' • She's just like her mother, that belanged to the caravan o' wild beasts !' 'O, man, Davie, but I wud like to get a breed out o' her by the watch-dowg at Bell- maiden Bleachfield, that killed, ye ken, the Kilmarnock carrier's Help in twenty minutes at Kingswel". ! " — Noctes, vol. i. p. 217. 400 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON, favourite plant was the myrtle : we find it peej-ing out here and there in his writings thus — North. — "These are mere myrtles." Shepherd. — " Mere myrtles ! Dinna say that again o' them — mere ; an ungratefu' word, of a flowery plant, a' fu' o' bonny white starries ; and is that their scent that 1 smell?" North. — "The balm is from many breaths, my dear James. Nothing that grows is without fragrance." In a letter written by my mother this autumn she says : — " We like our residence exceedingly, notwithstanding its great retirement and moist climate : the latter we were prepared for before we came, and have certainly not been disappointed, for we have had rather more of rain than fair weather. The house is situated in a narrow valley in Ettrick, with high hills on every side, which attract the clouds. We, however, contrive to amuse ourselves very well, with books and work, music and drawing ; and when fair and fine, the boys and girls have their ponies, and the old people a safe low open carriage, yclept a drosky, in which they take the air. The walks are quite to my taste, and without number in the wood which surrounds the house, and there is one delightful walk, the avenue, which is the approach, and which, from one lodge to the other, is rather more than a mile of nice dry gravel, and quite level, or nearly so, which suits me vastly well ; there is a beautiful flower- garden close to the house and a very pretty brawling stream, which reminds one of Stockgill, at Ambleside ; there is a very good water- fall likewise in the grounds, about a mile from the house, which I have not yet seen, the path being very steep, and, owing to the rains, very wet; It is called the Black Spout. The boys have abundance of amusement in fishing and shooting, there being plenty of game,— hares and rabbits. John has the Duke of Buccleuch's permission to shoot, and therefore we expect to have plenty of grouse. . . . Our neighbours, who are few and far between, consist of respectable farmers, who have showed us great attention, indeed Mr Wilson was known to all the neighbourhood long ago[ in his pedestrian perambulations. The church is about a mile and half from us, a neat little building, with a comfortable manse attached, Mr Smith, the minister, is a very favourable specimen LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 401 of a Scotch clergyman, with a modest, hospitable wife, and two children. " Mr Wilson was obliged to go to Edinburgh last Saturday, but I hope he will be here again on Wednesday. He is staying at the Bank. Poor Mr Blackwood is very ill ; indeed, I fear dangerously so. It is a surgical case, and though his general health has not as yet suffered, should that give way there is no chance for him. He would be an irreparable loss to his family, and a serious one to Edinburgh, being an excellent citizen, a magistrate, and highly respected even by his enemies." My father's spirits were at this time very much disturbed at the prospect of soon losing his kind and long-tried friend, the gradual increase of whose illness he writes of with mucti feeling to his wife : — " Gloucester Place, Thursday Night. " My dear Jane, — I found Mr Blackwood apparently near his dissolution, but entirely sensible, and well aware of his state, which indeed he had been for a long time, though, till lately, he had never said so, not wishing to disturb his fomily. He was very cheerful, and we spoke cheerfully of various matters ; this was on Monday, on my arrival from Peebles in a chaise, the coach being full. Tuesday was a day of rain, and being very ill, I lay all the day in bed. 1 did not, therefore, see any of the Blackwoods, nor anybody else, but heard that he was keeping much the same. On Wednesday, 1 saw Alexander and Robert, and found there was no change. This morning (Thursday) I called, and found him looking on the whole better than before, stronger in his speech and general appearance. I had much conversation with him, and found him quite prepared to die, pleased with the kindness of all around him, and grateful for all mercies. It is impossible, I think, that he can live many days, and yet the medical men all declared on Sunday that he could not hold out many hours. A good conscience is the best comforter on such a bed as his, and were his bed mine to-morrow, bless God I have a conscience that would support me as it supports him, and which will support me till then, while I strive to do my duty to my family, with weakened powers both of mind and body, 2 c 40,i MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. but under circumstances which more than ever demand exertion. I have been too ill to write one word since I came, and have seen nobody, nor shall I till I return to Thirlstane. Not one word of the Magazine is written. Last night I made an effort and walked to the Bank through a tremendous storm. " 1 was in bed to-day till after bank hours, and could not disturb the Blackwoods, of whom T have not heard since the morning. I have consulted Liston. Sedentary employments are bad for that complaint, but sedentary I must be, and will work till I can work J10 longer. It is necessary that I should do, and better men have done so, and will do so while the world lasts. Thank God L injure nobody in thought, word, or deed. I am willing to die for my lamily, who, one and all, yourself included, deserve all that is good at my hands. I believe that poor Mr Blackwood's exertions have caused his illness, and after his death my work must be incessant, till the night comes in which no man can work. I have been interrupted all summer, but winter must see another sight, and I will do my utmost. I will write again by Ebenezer Hogg, and shall not, indeed cannot, leave this before Mr Blackwood's death. He cannot survive many days, but I do not think the boys and Mr Hay need come in. I uill speak of that again in my letter. — I am yours affectionately, John Wilson." " Bank, Thursday Night, "My dear Jane, — I arrived at the Bank at half-past twelve on Monday with a violent toothache ; dined there alone ; saw the Blackwuods, and went to bed at nine. On Tuesday called on Mr Blackwood, and found him tolerably well. Lost all that day in being unable to settle to anything ; finding the bank-house most uncomlortable in all respects — no pillows to the beds, no sofas, no tables on which it was possible to write, from their being so low and the chairs so high, i did nothing. On Wednesday did a little, but not much; and dined, perhaps injudiciously, with Liston,* to meet Schetky;t stayed till one o'clock; and to-d.iy had an ' Robert Liston, the celebrated surgeon ; died in 1847. + John Schelky, an artist, a friend of my father's. — " I have no conceit of those '\\\\o aie all things to all men.' Why, I have seen John Schetky himself in the sulks LITERARY A^D DOMESTIC LIFE. 403 open and confused head; wrote in the back-shop, but not very much. I sent for Nancy to the Bank, and found from her that she was picking currants in Gloucester Place, and told her that I would be there to-morrow (Friday) at nine o'clock, and write in my room, which, she says, is open, and sleep at the Bank. I dine at Mr Blackwood's. Mr Hay called on me at the shop to-day, and is well, having been ill with cholera or colic. The Magazine is in a sad state, and entirely behind, and as yet I have done little to forward it. I am not quite incog.^ I fear, but have avoided seeing any of my old friends of the Parliament House. I will write by Sunday's mail, so you will hear from me on Tuesday, telling you when to send the gig to Innerleithen. I think it will be on Wed- nesday night, therefore keep it disengaged for that day ; but I will mention particulars in my next. My face is swelled, but not so bad as before nearly. The Whigs are all iti again, or rather were never out, except Lord Grey, who remains out. Poor Blackwood looks as well as ever, and there seem to be hopes, but the disease is very, very bad, and I do not know what to say. Love to all. — Yours ever affectionately, John Wilson." ' • Saturday Evening. " My dear Maggie, — Mr Blackwood is in the same state, wearing away gradually, but living longer than any of the medical people thought possible. Last Sunday it was thought he could not live many hours. " I enclose ;^io for present use, and shall write to your mamma on Monday, so that you will hear from me on W^ednesday. "This goes by Ebenezer Hogg, and two other letters; and Nancy, I understand, is sending clothes to Bonjeddard, from which with sumphs, though he is more tolerant of ninnies and noodles than almost any other man of genms I have ever known ; but clap him down among a choice crew of kindred spirits, and how his wild wit even yet, as in its prime, wantons ! playing at will its virgin fancies, till Care herself comes from her cell, and sitting by the side of Joy, loses her name, and forgets her nature, and joins in glee or catch, beneath the power of that magician, the merriest in the hall." — Nodes, No. Ixvi., 1834. "A gentleman who served with our army in the Spanish campaigns, and has painted several wild scenes of the Pyrenees in a most original manner. He is, I imagine, the very finest painter of sky since Salvator Rosa." — Letters on the Living Artists of Scotland. 404 MEMOIR OF JOIIX liVLSOX. I gather you are going to the ball, which is right. Love to all. Use die gig as you choose, for I shall not want it for some time. — Thine aliectionately, John Wilson." "Gloucester Place, Monday Eieni»^. "My dear Jane, — I shall be in Innerleithen on Thursday per coach, so let the gig be there the night before. I have been writing here since Friday, with but indifferent success, and am at this hour worn out. Nancy has done what I asked her to do, and I have let the bell ring 10,000 times without minding it. " Billy called, with Captain Craigie, on Sunday, and, after viewing them from the bedroom window, I let them in. 1 have seen nobody else, not even Sym, but intend to call to-morrow night. I have slept here, and in utter desolation, as at Blackwood's it was too mournful to go there. "What is to become of next Magazine I do not know. If I come here again, I will bring ^laggie with me. Five hours ot writing give me a headache, and worse, and I become useless. 1 I do not think Blackwood will recover, but Liston speaks still as if he had hopes. Nobody writes for the Magazine, and the lads are in very low spirits, but show much that is amiable. I believe Hogg and his wife and I will be in the coach on Thursday morning to Innerleithen; so Bob told me. The printers are waiting for ms., and I have none but a few pages to give them ; but on Wednesday night all must be at press. I hope to find you all well and happy. — Yours ever affectionately, John Wilson." Mr Blackwood died on the i6th of September 1S34. "Four months of suftering, in part intense, exhausted by slow degrees all his physical energies, but left his temper calm and unruffled, and his intellect entire and vigorous even to the last. He had thus what no good man will consider as a slight privilege, that of con- templating the approach of death with the clearness and full strength ot" his mind and faculties, and of instructing those around him by solemn precept and memorable example, by what means alone humanity, conscious of its own frailty, can sustain that prospect W;th humble serenity."* This event made no change in my * Black2i*heii all at once — ' The king is mad ! how stiff is our vile sense That we stand up, and have ingenious feeling Of our huge sorrows ! Better we were distract : So should our thoughts be severed from our griefs ; And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose The knowledge of themselves.'" — From Mr Cupples' graceful "Memorial and Estimate of Professor Wilson, by a Student." 4to. Edinburgh. * The eldest, Margaret Anne, to her cousin, Mr J. F. Ferrier, Professor of Moral Philosophy, St Andrew ; the second, Mary, to Mr J. T. Gordon, Sheriff of Mid- lothian. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 415 liis father-in-law's house new visitors and new elements of thought ; old prejudices disappeared, and "Christopher North" was fre- quently seen in the midst of what once was to his own party the camp of the enemy. Many a pleasant day they spent in each other's houses ; and no observer, however dull, could fail to be struck even by the aspect of the four men who thus again met together, Jeffrey, Cockburn, Rutherford, and Wilson, I think I may venture, without partiality, to say that my father was the most remarkable of the four. There was a certain similarity of bearing and manner in the three great lawyers which was not shared by him : he was evidently not one of the family. I shall never forget his manly voice, pleasantly contrasting with Jeffrey's sharp, silvery tones, as they mingled sparkling wit with their more serious dis- course, which was enlivened by the quaint humour and Doric notes of Cockburn, that type of the old Scottish gentleman, whose digni- fied yet homely manner and solemn beauty gave his aspect a l)eculiar grace, — Rutherford also, to whose large mind, consummate ability, rich and ripe endowments, I most willingly pay a most sincere and affectionate tribute of true regard and respect.* It vv.U not do lor me to dwell on these things, however i)leasant to myself would be a digression into this fairy-land of reminiscence.t My father, since the days when he wrote in the Edifiburgh, had achieved a position in letters, not only different from Jeffrey's, but higher and more enduring. As a critic, he had worked in a deeper * The mutual appreciation and familiar friendship of Wilson and Rutherford was as instant as are question and answer to-day by telegraph ; and I cannot now recall, without emotion, the fond and constant attachment which the s:reat and busy lawyer felt and manifested to "Chiistopher North." I have before me at this moment letter after letter, written during a course of years to my husband from his uncle in London, in the din of the heaviest seasons of official duty, not one of which ever concludes without some special message to or inquiry about " the Professor." f Nobody, however, will grudge me a few words in honour of that amiable and admirable man, the late Lord M array, who may be said to have lived in the open air of universal and cheerful hospitality. His heart and his hearth were alike open, with an equal warmth of welcome, to all, old and young, big or little. None under- stood or relished better than he did the joyous benevolence of my father's disposition. I wish I could linger a little over the agreeable reunions in Jeffrey's house in his ]atter years, which, under the mellowed lustre of a simple domestic fireside, rivalled the sprightliest fascinations of a Hotel Ramhouillet. No friend went to them, or was t.liere greeted witii more cordial sympathy than Professor Wilson. 4i6 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. mine than the Edinburgh Teviewer, deaUng less with mere forms, and more with the true spirit of art. His great work, indeed, was that which to me seems the highest destiny of man, to teach ; and his lessons have spread far and near. In the limitations of his genius lay its excellence; it made him patriotic ; and if, for example, his name is not linked with individual creations of character such as bind the name of Goethe with Faust or Werther or Wilhelm Meister, yet his immediate influence extends over a wider sphere of life. These creations of the great German, though quite accordant with nature, speak but to a high order of cultivation. They are works containing a spirit and action of life, the sympathies of which can never enter the hut of the peasant or the homes of the poor. On the other hand, Wilson is thoroughly patriotic ; there is not a class in the whole of Scotland incapable of enjoying his writings ; and I believe his influence in the habits and modes of thought on every subject, grave or gay, is felt throughout the country. Be it politics, literature, or sport, there is not one of these themes that has not taken colour from him, — a sure test of genius. In the "Noctes" alone is seen his creative power in individual character; yet its most original conception is not a type, but a being of time and place. The Shepherd is not to be found everywhere in Scotland, either sitting at feasts, or tending his flocks on the hill-side. We are not familiar with him as we are with the characters of Charles Dickens. We have to imagine the one ; we see and know the others. Christopher himself is typical of what has been ; he presides at these meetings when philosophy mounts high, with the dignity of a minister of blue-eyed Athene. The spirit of the Greek school is upon him, and we can fancy, that, before assembling his companions together, he invoked the gods for eloquence and wisdom. There he was great; but in his tales, his Recreations, and his poetr>', the true nature of the man, as he lived at home, is to be found. In the simple ways of his daily life, I see him as he sometimes used to be, in his own room, surrounded by his family, — the prestige of greatness laid aside, and the very strength of his hand softened, that he might gently caress the infant on his knee, and play with the little ones at his feet. And many a game was played witli fun and frolic; stories were told, l>ar/ey-sugar LITERARY AXD DOMESTIC LIFE. 417 was eaten, and feasts of various kinds given. " A party in granil- papa's room" was ever hailed with delight. There was to be seen a tempting display of figs, raisms, cakes, and other good things, all laid out on a table set and covered by himself; while he, acting on the occasion as waiter, was ordered about in the most unceremonious fashion. After a while, when childhood was passing away from the frolics of the nursery, and venturing to exjjlore the m\ steries of life, he would speak to his little friends as companior.s. and passing from gay to grave, led their young spirits on, and bound their hearts to his. In speaking of his kindness to human pets, I may mention a very deii'^htful instance of his love to the inferior animals. I remember a hapless sparrow being found lying on the door-steps scarcely fledged, and quite unable to do for itself. It was brought into the house, and from that moment became z. protege of my father's. It found a lodging in his room, and ere long was perfectly domesti- cated, leading a life of uninterrupted peace and prosperity for nearly eleven years. It seemed quite of opinion that it was the most important occupant of the apartment, and would peck and chirp where it liked, not unfrequently nestling in the folds of its patron's waistcoat, attracted by the warmth it found there. Then with bolder stroke of familiarity, it would hop upon his shoulder, and picking off some straggling hair from the long locks hanging about his neck, would jump away to its cage, and depositing the treasure with an air of triumph, return to fresh conquest quite certain of welcome. Ihe creature seemed positively influenced by constant association with its master. It grew in stati/rt\ and began to assume a noble and defiant look. It was alleged, in fact, that he was gradually becoming an eagle. Of his dogs, their name was Legion. I remember Bronte, Rover, Fang, Paris, Charlie, Fido, Tip, and Grog, besides outsiders with- out number. Bronte comes first on the list. He came, I think, into the family in the year 1826, a soft, shapeless mass of puppyhood, and grew up a beautiful Newfoundland dog. " Purple-black was he all over, except the star on his breast, as the raven's wing. Strength and sagacity emboldened his bounding beauty, and a fierceness lay deep 2 D 4i8 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. down within the quiet lustre o' his een that tauld you, even when he laid his head upon your knees, and smiled up to your face like a verra intellectual and moral creature — as he was — that had he been angered, he could have torn in pieces a lion."* He was brave and ^entle in disposition, and we all loved him, but he was my father's peculiar property, of which he was, by the way, quite aware ; he evinced for liim a constancy that gained in return the confidence and affection of his master. Every day for several years did Bronte walk by his side to and from the College, where he was soon as well known as the Professor himself. This fine dog came to an untimely end. There was good reason to believe that he had been poisoned by some members of Dr Knox's class, in revenge for the remarks made by my father on the Burke and Hare murders, t I remember the morning we missed Bronte from the breakfast-room, a half- formed presentiment told us that something was wrong ; we called, bat no bounding step answered the summons. I went to look for him in the schoolroom, and there he lay lifeless. I could not believe it, and touched him gently with my foot ; he did not move. 1 bent down and laid my hand on his head, but it was cold ; poor Bronte was dead ! "No bark like his now belongs to the world of sound;" and so passed Bronte "to the land of hereafter." It was .-ome time ere he found a successor; but there was no living without dogs, and the next was Rover, of whom I have already spoken. The house in Gloucester Place was a rendezvous for all kinds of dogs. My father's kindliness of nature made him open his house lor his four-footed friends, who were too numerous to describe. There was Professor Jameson's Neptune, a Newfoundland dog, Mrs Rutherfurd's Juba, a pet spaniel, and Wasp, a Dandy Dinmont. belonging to Lord Rutherfurd, who were constant visitors ; but the most notorious sorner of the whole party was Tory, brother to Fang, both sons oi Mr Blackwood's famous dog. Tickler. Tory paid his visits with the cool assurance of a man of the world, the agreeable- ness of whose society was not to be questioned for a moment ; he remained as long as he wished, was civil and good-humoured to * Nodes, vol. ii., pp. 185, 195. f NiJctcs, vol. iii., p. 15. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LITE. 419 every one, but, as a matter of course, selected the master of the house as his chief companion, walked with him, and patronized him. I think he looked upon himself as the binding link between the bitter Tory of the old regime, and the moderate Conservative of the new. There was evidently a feeling of partisanship in his mind as he took up his position at the door of Mr Blackwood's shoj), either to throw the Professor off or take him up, as the case might be. I never knew so eccentric a dog as Tory; he had many friends, but his ways were queer and wandering. There was no place of public amusement he did not attend ; his principles were decidedly those of a dog about town ; and though serious, grave, and com- posed in deportment, he preferred stir and excitement to rest and decorum. Tory was never known to go to church, but at the door of the Theatre, or at the Assembly Rooms, he has been seen to linger for hours. He was a long-backed yellow terrier, with his front feet sliglitly turned out, and an expression of countenance full of mildness and wisdom. Tory continued his visits to Gloucester Place, and his friendship for the Professor, for several years, but he did not neglect other friends, for he exhibited his partiality for many individuals in the street, accompanying them in their walk, and perhaps going home with them. This erratic and independent mode of existence brought him much into notice. There must be many in Edinburgh who remember his knowing look and strange habits. One other such companion must be mentioned, the last my father ever had ; he belonged to his son Blair, and was originally the property of a cab-driver in Edinburgh. Grog was his name, and it argues the unpoetical position he held in early life. He was the meekest and gentlest, and almost the smallest doggie I ever saw. His colour was a rich chestnut brown ; his coat, smooth and short, might be compared to the wing of a pheasant; and as he lay nest- ling in the sofa, he looked much more like a bird than a dog. I think he never followed my father in the street, their intimacy being confined entirely to domestic life ; he was too petit to venture near Christopher as he strode along the street, but many a little snooze he took within the folds of his ample coat, or in the pocket of his jacket, or sometimes on the table among his papers. I cani^.ct 4i-o MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. pretend to say of what breed Grog had come; he had little, comical, turned out feet ; he was a cosy, coaxing, mysterious, half-mouse, half bird-like dog ; a fancy article, and might have been bought very fitly from a bazaar of lady's work, made up for the occasion, and sold at a high ])rice on account of his rarity. He died easily, being found one morning on his master's pillow lifeless ; his little heart had ceased to beat during the night. The Professor was very sad when he died, and vowed he never would have any more dogs, — and he kept his vow. In connexion with this subject, there remains something to be said of his continued devotion to the birds mentioned in an earlier part of this Memoir. I think it was the love of the beautiful in all created things that made my father admire the glossy plumage, delicate snake-like head, and noble air of game birds — the aris- tocracy of their species. For many months he pampered and fed no fewer than sixty-hvo of these precious bipeds in the back-green of his house. The noise made by this fearful regiment of birds beggars all description, yet, be it said, for the honour of human patience and courtesy, not a single complaint ever came from friend or neighbour ; for months it went on, and still this " Bufera infernal " was listened to in silence.* Fearing lest any of his pets should expand their wings and take flight, their master sought to prevent this by clipping a wing of each. He chanced to fix upon a day for this operation when his son-in- law, Mr Gordon, was occupied in his room with his clerk, the apart- ment adjoining which was the place of rendezvous. Chanticleer, at no time "most musical, most melancholy" of birds, on this occasion made noise enough to " create a soul under the ribs of death." Such an uproar ! sounds of fluttering of feathers, accom- panied by low chucklings, half hysterical cackling, suppressed * His medical attendant naively relates that one day when the Professor took him into his "aviary," and pointed out the varied beauties of his birds, the Doctor asked, "Do they never fight?" "Fight!" replied the Professor, "you little know the nature of the animal ; he will not fight unless he is incited ; but," said he with a humourous twinkle of the eye, " put a hen among them, and I won't answer for the pc ice being long observed ; - and so it hath been since the beginning of the world," added the old man eloquent. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 421 crowing, and every sign of agitation and rage that lungs not human could send forth. During the whole of this proceeding, extra- ordinary as it may have ai)peared to the uninitiated ear, not an observation escaped the lips of the clerk, who for more than an hour was subjected to "this lively din." If, however, the silence of neighbours did honour to their virtue, there were distresses and perplexities which domestic tongues found no difficulty in expressing. Two of the birds fell sick, and ( Iiange of air was considered necessary for their restoration to l;ealth. A hap;)y thought suggested to the Professor, that an liospital might be found for the invalids in a room of the attic sto'-ey, where boxes and various unused articles of the 7?ienage were kept, in short, the lumber-room, not unfrequently, however, a repository for very valuable articles, — so far belying its name. In this apartment, for more than a week, walked in undisturbed quiet the two invalids, tended, fed, and visited many times during each day by their watchful patron. Health by those means was restored, and nothing now remained but to remove the pets to their old abode in the back-green, where they crowed and strutted more insolently than ever. A few days after the lumber-room had been evacuated by its feathered tenants, the Professor's daughters as- cended to the said apartment, happy in the possession there — secure in a well-papered trunk, — of certain beautiful ball-dresses to be worn that very night in all the freshness of unsullied crape and ribbons. What sight met their eyes on opening the door of the room I Horrible to say, the elegant dresses were lying on the floor in a corner, soiled, torn, and crumpled, in fact useless. The box in which they had been so carefully laid, had been, on account of its size, at once secured by the Professor as an eligible coop for his bi:ds. The dresses were of no value in his eyes; probably he did not know what they were ; so tossing them ruthlessly out, he left them to their fate. It was quite evident, from the appearance they presented, that along with the empty trunk — according to the caprice of the fowls — they had been used as a nest. To imagine the feelings of the young ladies at the sight of their fair vanities, " all tattered and torn," is to call up a subject which, even at this distant date, causes a natural pang. It was a trial certainly not [22 MEMOIR OF JOIIX WILSON. borne witli much patience, and no doubt, in the hour of disappoint- ment, called forth expressions of bitter and undisguised hatred towards all animated nature in the shape oi feathers. The aviarv was after a time shut up. and all its inhabitants were sent off in various directions. The following note to Dr Moir will show how they were disposed of : — "6 Gloucester Place, .Monday. " My dear Sir, — I have a game cock of great value which I wish to walk (as it is technically termed) for a few months. Can you take him in ? This will depend entirely on your setting any value on the bird you now may have, and who, I presume, is Dung- hill. If you do, on no account displace him from his own throne. If you do not, I will bring mme down on Thursday, and see him safely deposited in your back court. In that case, his present majesty mu,-,t either be put to death or expatriated, as if put together they will fall by mutual wounds. — Yours affectionately, "J. Wilson." Apparently the only article from his pen during 1840 in Black- wood was a review of "A Legend of Florence," by Leigh Hunt. If he had not long ere that made the amende honorable for the unjust bitterness of the past, he certainly in this review used "the gracious tact, the Christian art," to heal all wounds, illustrating finely his own memorable words, " The animosities are mortal, but the humanities live for ever." Preparatory to beginning an essay upon Burns, which he had en- gaged to write for the Messrs Blackie, he was desirous to seek the best domestic traces of him that could be found, and naturally turned to Dumfriesshire for such information. Two interesting letters to Mr Thomas Aird, will, better than words of mine, show how earnestly he set about his work, although I cannot, at the same time, avoid drawing attention to certain expressions of anxious interest con- cerning the better part of the man. For example, his desire to hear " if Burns was a church-goer, regular or irregular, and to what church." All his inquiries show a tender sympathy, a Christian desire to place that erring spirit justly before men, for well did he LITERARY AXD DOMESTIC LITE. 42 J e know how in this world faults are judged. There is a touching simplicity, too, in the personal allusions in these words, "ZT^/- eyes never having looked on the Nith." "May 3, 1840. " My dear Mr Aird, — I have been ill with rose in my head for more than a fortnight, and it is still among the roots of my hair, but in about a week or so, I think I shall be able to move in the open air without danger. I have a leaning towards Dumfriesshire, it being unhaunted by the past, or less haunted than almost any other place, her eyes never having looked on the Nith. Perhaps there- abouts I might move, and there find an hour of peace. Is Thornhill a pleasant village ? and is there an inn between it and Dumfries ? Is there an inn in the pass of Dalvine? Is Penpont habitable quietly for a few days, or any of the pretty village-inns in that district? Pray let me hear from you at your leisure how the land lies. Perhaps I may afterwards step down to your town for a dav, but I wish, if I make out a week's visit to Nithsdale or neighbourhood, to do so unknown but to yourself. — Affectionately yours, "John Wilson." Four months later we find him writing again to the same fiiend : — "Edinburgh, Sept. 24, 1840. "My dear Mr Aird, — I have at last set to work— if that be not too strong an assertion — on my paper about Burns, so long ])romised to the Messrs Blackie of Glasgow, for The Land of Bums. They have in hand about fifty printed quarto pages, but some of it has not been returned to me to correct for press. They expect, I believe, thirty or fifty more. " Can you find out from good authority in Dumfries (Jessie Lewars, they say, is yet alive, and is Mrs Thomson) if Burns was a church-goer at Dumfries, regular or irregular, and to what church ? 2. If he was on habits of intimacy with any clergyman or clergymen in the town — as, for example, Dr Burnside? In 1803, I stayed two days with the Burnsidcs- — all dear friends of mine then, and long afterwards, though ncti.' the survivors are to me like the dead. I 424 MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSON. then called with Mary Burnside,* now Mrs Taylor, in Liverpool, on Mrs Burns. Robert I remember at Glasgow College, but hardly knew him, and I daresay he does not remember me. 3. Did any clergymen visit him on his dying bed ; and is it supposed that when dying the Bible was read by him more than formerly or not? 4. Had Burns frequent, rare, or regular family worship at Dumfries ? At Ellisland I think he often had. If these questions can be answered affirmatively in whole or in part, I shall say something about it ; if not I shall be silent, or nearly so. In either case 1 iiope I shall say nothing wrong. "I have not left Edinburgh since I saw you. but for a day or so, and I won't leave it till this contribution to The Life of Burns is hnished. Then I intend going for a week to Kelso, and from the 20th October to ditto April, if spared, be in this room, misnamed a study — it is a sort of library. I am alone with one daughter, my good Jane; her mother's name, and much of her nature. — Yours affectionately, John Wilson." During this summer he went into Dumfries and Galloway, accom- panied by his two sons. I have an interesting account of a visit he paid to the Rev. George Murray, of Balmaclellan, Glenkens, with a day's fishing in Lochinvar, but it is too long for insertion. In speaking of his room, which he calls " a sort of library," some- thing may be said of that careless habit which overtook him in his later years, and gave to his whole appearance an air of reckless freedom. His room was a strange mixture of what may be called order and untidiness, for there was not a scrap of paper, or a book that his hand could not light upon in a moment, while to the casual eye, in search of discovery, it would appear chaos, without a chance of being cleared away. To any one whose delight lay in beauty of furniture, or quaint and delicate ornament, well-appointed arrangements, and all that indescribable fascination caught from ?iick-7iacks and articles of vertii, that apartment must have appeared a mere lumber-room. The book-shelves were of unpainted wood, knocked up in the rudest * Maiy Burnside was tlie friend anci confidante of the "Orphan Maid," \vho<;e ima^e was so hard to tear from his young lieart. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 425 fashion, and tlieir volumes, though not Nvanthig in number or excel- lence, wore but shabby habiliments, many of them being tattered and without backs. The chief pieces of furniture in this room were two cases : one containing specimens of foreign birds, a gift from an admirer of his genius across the Atlantic, which was used incon- gruously enough sometimes as a wardrobe ; the other was a book- case, but not entirely devoted to books ; its glass doors permitted a motley assortment of articles to be seen. The spirit, the tastes, and habits of the possessor were all to be found there, side by side like a little community of domesticities. " For example, resting upon the Wealth of Nations lay shining coils of gut, set off by pretty pink twinings. Peeping out from Boxiana, in juxtaposition with the Faery Queen, were no end of delicately dressed Jlies ; and pocket-books well filled with gear for the "gentle craft" found company with Shakspere and Ben Jonson ; while fishing-rods, in pieces, stretched their elegant length along the shelves, embracing a whole set of poets. Nor was the gravest philosophy without its contrast, and Jeremy Taylor, too, found innocent repose in the neighbourhood of a tin box of barley-sugar, excellent, as when bought "at my old man's." Here and there, in the interstices between books, were stuffed what appeared to be dmgy, crumpled bits of paper, — these were bank-notes, class fees — not unfrequently, for want of a purse, thrust to the bottom of an -old worsted stocking, when not honoured by a place in the book-case. I am certain he very rarely counted over the fees taken from his students. He never looked at or touched money in the usual way ; he very often forgot where he put it ; saving when these stocking banks were his humour; no one, for its own sake, or for his own purposes, ever regarded riches with such perfect indifference. He was like the old patriarch whose simple desires were comprehended in these words, — " If God will be with me, and keep me in the way 1 am to go, and give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on," — other thought of wealth li_ had not. And so there he sat, in the majesty of unaffected dignity, surrounded by a homeliness that still left him a type of the finest gentleman ; courteous to all, easy and unem- barrassed in address, wearing his neglige with as much grace as a courtier his lace and plumes, nor leaving other impression than that 426 MKMOIR OF JOHN ir/LSG.V. which goodness makes on minds ready to acknowledge superiority ; seeing there "the elements so mixed in him, that nature might stand up and say to all the world, this was a man." "Writing for Blackwood" were words that bore no pleasant significance to my ears in the days of childhood. Well do I remember, when living long ago in Ann Street, going to school with my sister Margaret, that, on our return from it, the first question eagerly put by us to the servant as she opened the door was, "Is jxipa busy to-day; is he writing for Blackwood?" If the inquiry v.a.s answered in the affirmative, then off went our shoes, and we crept up stairs like mice. I believe, generally speaking, there never was so quiet a nursery as ours. Thus " writing for Blackwood " found little favour in our eyes, and the grim old visage of Geordie Buchanan met with very rough treatment from our hands. If, as sometimes happened, a number of the Magazine found its way to the nursery, it never failed to be tossed from floor to ceiling, and back again, until tattered to our hearts' content. In due time we came to appreciate better the value of these labours, when we learned what love and duty there was in them ; and a good lesson of endurance and power the old man taught by the very manner of his work. How he set about it, i propos of his study, may claim a few words of description. His habit of composition, or rather I should say the execution of it, was not always ordered best for his comfort. The amazing rapidity with which he wrote, caused him too often to delay his work to the very last moment, so that he almost always wrote under com- pulsion, and every second of time was of consequence. Under iuch a mode of labour there was no hour left for relaxation. When regularly in for an article for Blackwood, his whole strength was put forth, and it may be said he struck into life what he had to do at a blow. He at these times began to write imme.liately after break- fast, that meal being despatched with a swiftness commensurate with the necessity of the case before him. He then shut himselt into his study, with an express command that no one was to disturb him, and he never stirred from his writing-table until perhaps the part of a " Noctes " was written, or some paper of equal brilliancy and interest completed. The idea of breaking his labour by taking LITERARY AKD DOMESTIC LIFE. 427 a constitutional walk never entered his thoughts for a moment. Whatever he had to write even though a day or two were to keep him close at work, he never interrupted his pen, saving to take his night's rest, and a late dinner served to him in his study. The hour for that meal was on these occasions nine o'clock ; his dinner then consisted invariably of a boiled fowl, potatoes and a glass of water — he allowed himself no wine. After dinner he resumed his pen till midnight, when he retired to bed, not unfrequently to be disturbed by an early printer's boy ; although sometimes, these familiars did not come often enough or early enough for tbeir master's work,* as may be seen from the following note to Mr Ballantyne :— " The boy was told to call this morning at seven, and said he would, but he has not come till .... I rose at five this morning on purpose to have the sheets ready. I wish you could order the devils to be more punctual, as they never by any accident appear in this house at a proper time. The devil who broke his word is he who brought the first packet last tiight. The devil who brought the second, is in this blameless. I do not wish the first devil to get more than his due ; but you must snub him for my sake. For a man who goei to bed at two, does not relish leaving it at five, except in case of life or death. Would you believe it, I am a little angry just now? J. W." I do not exaggerate his power of speed, when I say he wrote • That these familiars were not always so dilatory the following humorous descrij^)- tion will testify : — " O these printers' devils ! Like urchins on an ice slide keeping the pie warm, from cock-crow till owl-hoot do they continue in unintermitting succession to pour from the far-off office down upon Moray Place or Buchanan Lodge, one imp almost on the very shoulders of another, without a minute devil-free, crying, ' Copy ! Copy ! ' in every variety of intonation possible in gruff or shrill ; and should I chance to drop asleep over an article, worn down by protracted sufferings to mere skin and bone, as you see, till the wick of my candle — one to the pound — hangs drooping down by the side of the melting mutton, the two sunk storeys are swarming with them all a-hum ! Many doubtless die during the year, but from such immense numbers they are never missed any more than the midges you massacre on a sultry summer eve. Then the face and figure of one devil are so like another's — the people who have time to pay particular attention to their personal appearance, which I have not, say they are as different as sheep. That tipsy Thammuz is to me all one with Bowzy Beelzebub, " etc. — iXoclcs. 42 3 MEMOIR OF JOHN IFJLSO.V. more in a few hours than most able writers do in a few days ; examples of it I have often seen in the very manuscript before him, which, disposed on the table, was soon transferred to the more roomy space on the floor at his feet, where it lay " thick as autumnal leaves in Vallombrosa," only to be piled up again quickly as before. When I look back to the days when he sat in that confused, dusty study, working sometimes like a slave, it seems to me as if Hood's " Song of the Shirt," with a difference of burden, would apply in its touching words to him ; for it was "Write, write, write. While the cock is crowing aloof ; And write, write, write, Till the stars shine through the roof ;" And so was his literature made, th:it delightful periodical literature which, "say of it what you will, gives light to the heads and heat to the hearts of millions of our race. The greatest and best men of the age have not disdained to belong to the Brotherhood; and thus the hovel holds what must not be missing in the hall — the furniture of the cot is the same as that of the palace ; and duke and ditcher read their lessons from the same page." He never, even in very cold weather, had a fire in his room ; nor did it at night, as most apartments do, get heat from gas, which he particularly disliked, remaining faithful to the primitive candle^ a large vulgar tallow, set in a suitable candlestick composed of ordinary tin, and made after the fashion of what is called a kitchen candlestick. What his fancy for this was I cannot say, but he never did, and would not make use of any otlier. From 1840 to 1845 there were only two papers contributed by him to Blackwood, viz., the Review of Leigh Hunt's Legend of Florence, already spoken of, and a laudatory criticism of Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. The latter appeared in December 1842, This cessation from labour arose in the first instance from a para- lytic affection of his right hand, which attacked him in May 184c, and disabled him for nearly a year. It was the first warning he received that his great strength and wonderful constitution lay under the same law as that which commands the weakest. Writing thenceforward became irksome, and the characters traced by his LITERARY AXD DOMESTIC LIFE. 429 pen are almost undecipherable. This attack gradually wore away, but it was during its continuance, and for years after, that he im- posed upon himself rules of total abstinence from wine and every kind of stimulant. Toast and water was the only beverage of which he partook. I have nothing more to relate of this time, nor are there any other traces of literary occupation beyond that belonging directly to his College duties. The remaining portion of this year must be per- mitted to pass in silence; and not again till the summer of 1841 is there a trace of anything but what belongs to a retired and quiet life. In June 1841, he presided at a large public dinner given in honour of Mr Charles Dickens,* and immediately afterwards started for the Highlands. The toUowing letter to Mr Fmdiay recalls recollections of that delightful tour. I was then with him at Rothesay, as his communication shows, on occasion of a melancholy nature, which, however, at that period did not result as was antici- pated, and left the summer months free from any other sorrow than that of anxiety. Mrs Gordon rallied for a time, and was well enough to bear removal to Edinburgh in the autumn ; but the sad condition in which she was brought friends around her, of whom my father was one; and on one of these visits to Rothesay, he made from thence a short detour by Inveraray and Loch Awe, taking me with him, along with his eldest son John. " Rothesay, Thursday Night, July I. 1841. My dear Robert, — Gordon and I left Edinburgh suddenly by the night mail on Monday, and arrived here on Tuesday forenoon. Dr Hay and my daughter Mary followed in the afternoon, in consequence of the illness of Mrs Gordon, senior, who, I fear, is dying. To-day, Mary and Gordon had nearly met a fatal accident, having been upset in a car over a considerable depth among rocks on the shore-road, along with their iriend Mr Irvine, and his son. All were for a while insensible except Mary, and all have been a good deal hurt. Mary was brought home in Mrs T. Douglas's carriage, * Reported in Scotsman, June 26, 1841. 4^,o MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSOY. and is going on well. In a day or two she will be quite well ; and Gordon is little the worse. It was near being a fatal accident, and had a frightful look. I was not of the party. Mrs Gordon's con- dition and Mary's accident will keep me here a day or two, so my plans are changed for the present, and I shall not be at Easter Hill till next week. Be under no anxiety about Mary, for she has recovered considerably, and will soon again be on her feet. My hand is not so well to-day, and I fear you will hardly be able to read this scrawl— Yours affectionately, John Wilson." At no time did my father ever appear so free from care as when communing with nature. With him it was indeed communion. He did not, as many do when l-'ving in the presence of fine scenery, show any impatience to leave one scene in order to seek another ; no restless desire to be on the top of a mountain, or away into some distant valley ; but he would linger in and about the place his heart had fixed to visit. All he desired was there before him; it was almost a lesson to look at his countenance at such moments. There was an expression, as it were, of melancholy awe, and grati- tude, a fervent inward emotion pictured outwardly. His fine blue eye seemed as if, in and beyond nature, it .saw some vision that beatified the sight of earth, and sent his spirit to the gates of heaven. I remember walking a whole day with him, rambling about the neighbourhood of Cladiach ; scarcely a word was uttered. Now and then he would point out a spot, which sudden sun-gleams made for a moment what he called a " sight of divine beauty ;" and then again, perhaps when some more extended and lengthened duration of light overspread the whole landscape, making it a scene of matchless loveliness, gently touching my arm, he signified, by a motion of his hand, that I too must take in and admire what he did not express by words ; silence at such moments was the key to more intense enjoyment. We sat down to rest on an eminence at the head of I.och Awe, when the mid-day sun glittered over every island and promontory, streaking the green fields with lines of gold. Not a sound escaped his lios ; but when, after a while, the softening shades of afternoon lent a less intense colour lo the scene, he spoke LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 431 a few words, saying ; " Long, long ago, I saw such a sight of beauty here, that if I were to tell it no one would believe it ; indeed, I am not sure whether I can describe what I saw ; it was truly divine ! I have written something very poor and feeble in attempt to describe that incomparable sight, which I cannot now read ; but to my dying day I shall not forget the vi-,ion." Did this vision suggest "Lays of Fairyland?" — taking too, in after years, another form than verse. It appeared in one of the most beautiful morsels of prose composition he ever wrote, which so impressed Lord Jeffrey's mind, he never was tired of reading it. It is a description of a fairy's funeral, and rather than refer the reader to the volume and page where it is to be found, I give the extract, as m fitting association with Loch Awe and the unlbrgotten vision or poet's dream near the brow of Ben Cruachan : — " There it was, on a little river island, that once, whether sleep- ing or waking we know not, we saw celebrated a fairy's funeral. First, we heard small pipes playing, as if no bigger than hollow rushes that whisper to the night winds; and more piteous than aught that trills from earthly instrument was the scarce audible dirge ! It seemed to float over the stream, every foam-bell emitting a plaintive note, till the fairy anthem came floating over our couch, and then alighting without footsteps among the heather. The pattering of little feet was then heard, as if living creatures were arranging themselves in order, and then there w^as nothing but a more ordered hymn. The harmony was like the melting of musical dew-drops, and sang, without words, 01 sorrow and death. W'c opened our eyes, or rather sight came to them when closed, and dream was vision. Hundreds of creatures, no taller than the crest of the lapwing, and all hanging down their veiled heads, stood in a circle on a green plat among the rocks ; and in the midst was a bier, framed as it seemed of flowers unknown to the Highland hills ; and on the bier a fairy lying with uncovered face, pale as a lily, and motionless as the snow. The dirge grew fainter and fainter, and then died quite away ; when two of the creatures came from the circle, and took their station, one at the head, the othtr at the foot of the bier. They sang alternate measures^ not louder than the 432 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON: twittering of the awakened wood-lark before it goes up the dewy air, but dolorous and full of the desolation of death. The flower- bier stirred ; for the spot on which it lay sank slowly down, and in a few moments the greensward was smooth as ever, the very dews •dittering above the buried fairy. A cloud passed over the moon ; and with a choral lament, the funeral troop sailed duskily away, heard afar off, so still was the midnight solitude of the glen. Then the disenthralled Orchy began to rejoice as before, through all her streams and falls ; and at the sudden leaping of the waters and outbursting of the moon, we awoke." I know not what the custom of authors is with regard to their own works, but this is true, that Professor Wilson never read what he wrote after it was published. He never spoke of himself but with the greatest humility. If egotism he possessed, it belonged entirely to the playful spirit of his writings, as seen in the lighter touches of the " Noctes." It was this humility that gave so great a charm to his graver conversation ; and in listening to him, you telt perfectly convinced that truth was the guiding principle of all he said. There was no desire to produce an impression by startling theories, or by careless off-hand bits of brilliancy — the glow without heat. Simple, earnest, eloquent and vigorous, his opinion carried the weight with it which belongs to all in whom implicit confidence rests. I never knew any one the tndh of whose nature, at a glance, was so evident ; not a shadow of dissemblance ever crossed that manly heart. His sympathies are best understood in examples of the love which gentle and simple bore to him. Fortunately, one of the few letters I ever received from him has been preserved. It brings the reader to 1842, when it will show him in one of his happiest moods. He has shaken the dust of the pavement from his feet, and pitched his tent for the time being on the pastoral slopes of a retired valley, the beautiful boundary of the river Esk, renowned in story for the adventures of " Young Loch- invar." There, in the spring of the year, he rambled, full of interest and occupation, not angling, or loitering through day- dreams by holm or shaw, but looking on with approving eye, suggesting and aiding, as circumstances required, in the appoint- LITERARY AXD DOMESTIC LIFE. 433 merit of a new house for his son John, who has just entered upon the pleasant, though anxious, toil of a farmer's life. As the summer advanced I was to join him there. Meanwhile he writes a description of the locale, so beautifully minute in char- acter that it may stand as a daguerrotype of the scene. I offer the letter as one of the best specimens of his domestic correspondence • — "BiLLHOLM, Langholm, Friday Forenoon, May 27, 1842. " My dear Mary, — We left Linhope on Wednesday, dined at the farmer's ordinary in Langholm, and came to Billholm in the evening. Yesterday we were all occupied all day taking stock on the hills — 60 score ; 1 2 gentlemen dined, 34 shepherds and herds- men, 10 horses, and 25 dogs. The scene surpassed description, but it is over. This morning the party (with Billholm and Menzion at their head) went off for a similar purpose to Craighope, distant some ten miles ; and Billholm, I believe, will return with Mr Scott (the outgoing tenant) in the evening. Meanwhile I am left alone, and shall send this and some other letters to Langholm by a lad, as there is no post. That is inconvenient — very. " In a day or two we shall be more quiet, but you can have no idea of the bustle and importance of all at this juncture, nor has John an hour to spare for any purpose out of his own individual concerns. " This place is, beyond doubt, in all respects sweet and serene, being the uppermost farm in the valley of the Esk before it becomes bare. It is not so rich or wooded as a few miles farther down, but is not treeless ; the holms or haughs are cultivated and cheerful ; the Esk about the size of the Tweed at the Crook, and the hills not so high as the highest about Innerleithen, but elegantly shaped, and in the best style of pastoral. " The house ' shines well where it stands ' on a bank sloping down to the river, which is not above twenty yards from the door, so Goliah* has nothing to do but walk in and float down to Lang- holm. But after Port Bannatyne he is safe against water. It fronts the river; many pleasant holms in the middle distance, and the * One of his giandchildren. 2 E 434 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. aforesaid hills about a mile off, surrounding the horizon. Sufficient trees up and down the banks ; but the view in front open, not exposed. The house was originally of this common kind : door in the middle, window on each side, three windows above, and windowless roof. A stone portico, since erected, takes away the formality, and breaks the blast. Freestone, neat with a window, good place for a clock, or even a ' beetle.' Entering through a glass door into the passage, to the left is the drawing-room, about sixteen feet square, 1 think, though I have not measured it yet; one window looking to the front, another up the river into a close scene pretty with trees ; a most pleasant parlour. "To the right is the parlour, 15 feet by 12, small no doubt, but lodgeable and comfortable. Up stairs (which face you on your entrance) are four bed-rooms, all comfortable ; the two to the front excellent and fit for anybody ; one of them with a small dressing- room with a window. I forgot to say, that behind the drawing-room is a pretty little room for a boudoir, study, or bed-room. All these rooms are papered, not. perhaps, as we would have papered them, but all neat and tidy, and not to be needlessly found fault with. So done only two years ago ; so is the passage and staircase. An addition had been made to the house at the end to the right hand ; and on the ground floor is the dining-room, into which you enter through the aforesaid parlour. It is, I believe, 18 feet by 16. One window looks to the front, and one into a grove of trees. It is oil-painted, of the colour of dark brick-dust, with a gilt moulding ; rather ugly at first sight, but I am trying to like it, and, for the present, it will do. Doors, etc., of all the rooms, good imitation of oak. " Above the dining-room, and behind it overhead, are two largish rooms, very low in the roof, communicating with one of the best bedrooms aforesaid, and used formerly as nurseries. " So there are, in fact, seven bedrooms. "There is a good kitchen (fatally to me, not to John) near the dining-room, and back kitchen, also servants' hall, as it is called, or rather butler s pantry — a very comfortable and useful place — and fitted up with presses which John bought. There is a woman- servant's room, with two beds; ditto, ditto, man-servant's. A LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LITE. 435 store-room — good size — and a large dark closet, fit to hold the six tin canisters though they were sixty, and other things besides. Behind are a few outhouses in rather a shaky condition. Th<- farm-offices are about loo or 150 yards from the house. The garden is an oblong, containing, I should think, about i\ acres. One end joins the house; one side is walled, and the farther end : the other side hedged prettily, and with many lilacs, runs along tht banks of the river, and 'tis a very pretty garden indeed. Fruit-trees rather too old, and goose-berry bushes too ; but the latter show a pretty good crop, and I counted 120 bushes. There are also currants and 7-asps, and a promising strawberry bed. Everything in it will be late this season, as it was dressed since John came here, only three weeks ago, but everything is growing. The furniture has not yet made its appearance, but I believe is at Langholm, and I shall hear about it by return of my messenger. " I will write again first opportunity, and expect to be at home by the middle of the week. Observe the directions in my last letter. Love to Blair and Umbs, Gordon and Goliah, Lexy and Adele, Taglioni, Mary Anne, and the rest. — Your affectionate- father, John Wilson." Almost the whole of this summer was spent at Billholm. The winter, coming again with its usual routine of work, calls him to town somewhere about October. In December his fine " Roman hand " strikes fire once more through the languid ribs of " Maga," and he greets with good heart and will the Lays of Ancient Rotne. No arriere pensee of political differences obtrudes its ill-concealed remembrance through his words. What is it to him whether it be Whig or Tory who writes, when genius, with star-like light, " flames in the forehead of the morning sky." "What! poetry from Macaulay? Ay, and why not? The House hushes itself to hear him, even when 'Stanley is the cry.' If he be not the first of critics (spare our blushes), who is? Name the young poet who could have written The Annada, and kindled, as if by electricity, beacons on all the brows of England till night grew day ! The young poets, we said, all want fire. Macaulay is not one of the set, for he is full of fire." 436 • MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. And so does he proceed, with honest words of praise, to the end, giving what is due to all. More of his treatment of this noble enemy in another place. As I have already remarked, there was nothing written for Black- wood dwc'ing the years 1842-44. What was he about? What right has such a question to be put? Is literature worked as if on a treadmill, under the hand of a task-master ; or is the public voice never to cease from the weary cry of "give, give?" The contents of the following letter to Dr Moir will show that he was not absolutely idle : — "4//4 Oct. 1842. " Mv DEAR Sir, — I have lost several days in looking over till I am sick, all Blackivood, for a description of Christopher's house in Moray Place. It is somewhere pictured as the House of Indolence, and with some elaboration, as I once heard Horatio Macculloch, the painter, talk of it with rapture. I wish you would cast over in your mind where the description may be, as I would fain put it into a chapter in vol. iii. of 'Recreations' now printing. Sometimes a reader remembers what a writer forgets. It is not in a ' Noctes.' I read it with my own eyes not long ago ; but I am ashamed of myself to think how many hours (days) I have wasted in wearily trying to recover it. Perhaps it may recur to you without much effort of recollection. — Yours affectionately, John Wilson." LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 437 CHAPTER XVI. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 1844-48. We now come to February 1844, where an old correspondent re-appears, whose letters, if not written in the sunny spirit of boti- hommie, have a peculiar excellence of their own. Never did graver's tool give more unmistakable sharpness to his lines, than the pen of John Gibson Lockhart gave to his words. The three following letters are as characteristic of his satirical power as any of those off-hand caricatures that shred his best friends to pieces, leaving the most poetical of them as bereft of that beautifying pro- perty, as if they had been born utterly without it. I have seen various portraits of my father from that pencil, each bearing the grotesque image of the artist's fancy, yet all undeniably like. So was it his humour nearly to the end, to look upon men and things with the chilling eye of the satirist. "25/A March 1844. " My dear Wilson, — I have spelt out your letter with labour,* but great ultimate contentment "Alexander Blackwood had given me, by yesterday's post, my first information touching that enormous absurdity of in re Kemp deceased, and I answered him, expressing my deep thank- fulness for the result of your interference; but I had not quite understood with how much difficulty you contended, and how nearly you were alone in the fight against eternal desecration. If Kemp had been put there, must in due time have polluted the same site a faeciilentiore. Of the other suggestion nipt in the * This difficulty arose from the circumstance of his correspondent suffering, as h« been told, from the weakness in his hand. 438 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. bud, never shall I breathe a whisper to any human being. For some time I have fancied Scotland must be all mad ; I never see a Scotch paper without being strengthened in that conviction, but this is the tie plus idtra ! " I have not read any novel lately, far less written one, I do not even guess to what new book you allude in your last page. You address me by the name of some hero, I suppose, but that is un- decipherable by my optics. No bamming here. Do name the book. Is this your sly way of announcing to me some new escapade of the long-haired and longish-headed ? " By the bye, Swinton has depicted both hair and head with very admirable skill. I had no notion that there was such stuff in the lid. He will, I am confident, soon be on a par here with Frank Grant, who is clearing ;!^5ooo or _;2^6ooo per annum. I like the C. N. a thousandfold better than Lauder's, and hope to have an engraving of it, same size, very speedily. " I showed the ' Poemata ' * some weeks ago to John Blackwood, and bade him send you a copy. Perhaps to me you owe your knowledge, therefore, of the novel epithet. Horace, however, has 'teterrima belli causa,' and I rather suspect teierrima carries a delicate double oitendre in that classical loc. raid. cit. "You have not read the title page correctly. First, the book is published by Simpkin, Marshall, et Co. 2d. The author is not Moore, Dea7i (to whom it is dedicated, as a compliment to his ' zeal for the Apostolical succession'), but H. Ryder, Canon of Lichfield, son of the late Bishop of Lichfield, and nephew of Lord Harrowby. I fancy the man is simply mad ; if not, Lonsdale must handsel his jurisdiction by overwhelming a scandal not inferior to the other Fitz-Eveque H. Marsh's in re Miord. That case, by the bye, goes to confirm another of my old doctrines, viz., that the Trial by Jury is the grossest of all British humbugs. I forget if it is Swift or Scorpio who sang — ' Powers Episcopal we know, Must from some apoitle flow ; But I'll never be so rude as Ask how many draw from Judas.' * Poemata Lyrica. Versa Latina Rimante Scripta. By H. D. Ryder. Simpkin, Marshall, & Co. LITERARY AXD DOMESTIC LIFE. 439 " Here is ano'.her fine spring dwy. Wliy don't you come up with Lord Peter for a week or two; or without him? The Government is in a tarnation fix. I suspect Ashley has got very wild, poor fellow — a better lives not; and that we shall have by and bye Jack Cade in right earnest. Gleig is chai)lain-general of the forces ; keeping Chelsea and his living in Kent too. * * * * Ever yours affectionately, J. G. L. "Alone and dreary; both my young are away from me; I shall soon be left entirely alone in this weary world. " You read in the pajjers about Louis Philippe giving Brougham a piece of Gobelins Tapestry, but they did not mention the subject. It is a very fine picture indeed, — -of a worrying-match between two dogs ! " Now I went a few nights ago to a large dinner at Brougham's house, and on entering the inner room, there was he with a cane, holding aside the curtains, and explaining the beauties of this masterpiece to — Plain John ! ! "Literal truth; but absurder than any fiction. The company seemed in agonies of diversion at the unconsciousness of the pair of barons. " That week both // B.* and Punch had been caricaturing them as the Terriers of the Tunes disgracing a drawing-room ! "All true, as I shall answer, etc." There are one or two allusions in this letter which may require a word of explanation. The first paragraph refers to a proposition made by some parties in Edinburgh, that the remains of Mr Kemp, the architect of the Scott monument, should have interment beneath it, he having come to an untimely end not long after the completion of his design. Professor Wilson had some trouble in preventing this absurd project being carried out. In the second, there are some playful remarks * Mr John Doyle, the father of Richard Doyle, author of Brown, Jones, and Robinson, "is generally believed to be the autlior of the celebrated H.B. political sketches, which were a few years ago so remarkably popular, and which, while exhiljiting with abundant keenness the proniineiu features and peculiarities of the persons caricatured, were always gentlemanly m feeling, and free from any appear- ance of malice." —Knight's Eiiglish Cyclopmdia. 440 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. about a novel ; d. propos of which, I may say, that novel-reading was a mental dissipation my father seldom induli:ed in, regarding that sort of literature, in general, as enervating to the mind, and destruc- tive to the formation of good taste. Now and then he was prevailed on to open one, when recommended as very good. Whitefriars had just been published ; he was delighted with it, and sat down, on the impulse of the moment, to congratulate the author (who could be no other than John G. Lockhart), on his success; and in this belief, he addresses him by the title of his hero.* This letter is almost immediately followed by another : — "March 28, 1844. " My dear Wilson, — It is not easy to judge of the merit of an architectural design until one (I mean an ignoramus), has seen it in actual stone. I thought the drawing of Scott's monument very good, and I suppose, from what is now executed, you can form a fair opinion. All my remaining anxiety is that the statue should be in bronze. Marble will last very few years before you see the work of decay on the surface. Is it too late to make a vigorous effort for this, in my mind, primary object? I have no fear about money. I met . . . yesterday at dinner at . . . and gave her your love. She is a fine creature. I see nothing like her, and were I either young or rich, I should be in danger. She told me Brewster, Chalmers, and all the Frow Kirk are going to start a new Review. How many Reviews are we to have? Is not it odd that the old ones keep afloat at all? but I doubt if they have lost almost any- thing as yet. The Q. R. prints nearly 10,000, I know, if not quite. Nor have I heard that Ebony is declining, in spite of these Hoods and Ainsworths, etc., etc. "... showed me a lot of Edinburgh daguerreotypes — the Candlishes, etc. ; that of Sir D. Brewster is by far the best specimen of the art I had ever seen. It is so good, that I should take it very kind if you would sit to the man whom Brewster patronizes /^rw^.t I should like also to have Sheriff Cay. This art is about to revolu- tionize book-illustration entirely. * Whitefriars has been ascribed to Miss E. Robinson. t My father did so, and the frontispiece to the present Memoir is engraved from Mr Hill's caloiype, by the artist's kind permission. LITERAR\ AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 44 1 " There is very great uneasiness here about this ten hours' affair. I really expect to see the Government displaced sooner or later by this coalition of Johnny Russell with Ashley, Oastler, and the Times. Your old friend, Sir James Graham, is terribly unpopular with both sides of the House. Yet I think his demeanour in private society infinitely more agreeable than Peel's, who, somehow, is not run upon in the same style by any party. Inglis takes kindly to the name of Jack Cade. We shall have him H. B.'d of course. Ashley speaks well, he has a fine presence, good voice, and his zeal gives him real eloquence now and then ; but he has slender talents, and his head has been quite turned by the popularity he has acquired. I seriously fear he will go mad. He lives and moves in an atmosphere of fanaticism, talks quite gravely about the Jews recovering Jerusalem, the Millennium at hand, etc. etc. " Brougham goes to Paris this week to {inter alia) take counsel with Guizot and Dupin about a great humbug (I believe), his new Society for the Amendment of the Law ; and, learning that Lynd- hurst, Denraan, etc., approved, I agreed to be a member on Brougham's request, and went to a meeting yesterday, where he was in the chair. What a restless, perturbed spirit [ * * -^ * Nothing could surprise me now-a-days. The Government have allowed B. to be their saviour so often in the H. of Lords, that they may by and by find it impossible to refuse him even the Seals. I am, you see, idle, and in gossiping vein this morning, having just got rid of a d — d thick Quarterly, I fear, a dull one. — Ever affec- tionately yours, J. G. Lockhart." In the next letter, which is the last of this correspondence that has been preserved, it will be seen how pain and inward yearning for things gone from before his eyes had softened a stern nature, bringing it through trials which left him a sadder and a wiser man : — "Fairlawn, Tunbridge, Easier Wednesday, 1844. " My dear Wit.son, — I had your kind letter here yesterday, and the resolutions as to the Scott and Kemp affairs, which seem to me, drawn up in the best possible taste, not a word to give offence, and ^42 MEMOIR OF JOIIX WILSON. much very delicately calculated to conciliate. I came to this place a week ago, utterly done up in body and mind ; but perfect repose and idleness, with cold lamb and home-brewed beer, and no wine nor excitement of any sort, have already done wonders, and in fact convinced me that I might have health again, if I could manage to cut London and Quarterly Reviews. As for any very lively interest in this life, that is out of the question with me as with you, and from the same fatal date, though I struggled against it for a while, instead of at once estimating the case completely as I think you did. Let us both be thankful that we have children not unworthy of their mothers. I reproach myself when the sun is shining on their young and happy faces, as well as on the violets and hyacinths and bursting leaves, that I should be unable to awaken more than a dim ghost-like semi-sympathy with them, or in anything present or to come, but so it is. No good, however, can come of these croakings. Like you I have no plans now — never. Walter must fag hard all this summer in Essex with a Puseyite tutor, if he is to go to Balliol in October with any advantage, and tlierefore I think it most likely I shall not stir far from London. * * * * u * * * * J usj.(j to have a real friendship for the water of Clyde and some half-dozen of its tributary Calders and Lethans, familiar from infancy ; and most of all, for certain burns with deep rocky beds and cold invisible cascades. As it is, I could be well contented to abide for the rest of this life in such a spot as this same Fairlawn— well named. It is a large ancient house built round a monastic court, with a good park, most noble beeches, and limes and oaks, looking over the rich vale of the Medway, with a tract of rough heath, and holt, and sand-hill, lying behind it, six or seven miles in length, and about two in breadth. This was the original seat of the Vanes ; and old Sir Harry lies buried here with many of his ancestors. It is now possessed by Miss Yates, cousin- german to Sir R. Peel, an excellent, sensible, most kind old lady ; stone blind from five years of age, and otherwise afflicted, but always cheerful ; too high a Tory to admire the premier, and inter alia, of old Sir Robert's oi)inion as to the Children question. I am going to-day for a few days to another house in this neighbourhood, and shall be in London again by this day week. LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 443 "Sir W. Allan writes he has a picture of Sir W. and Anne Scott for the Exhibition. I hope rather than expect to be pleased there- with. "So Abinger exit. He wedded a spry widow who had been anxious for his third son on last August ; and on landing at Calais for the honey trip, put himself down 'age 55 ;' but the Fates were not to be gammoned, nor Lady Venus neither, and the coffin-plate will tell truly : Ann. ^tat. 76. I suppose Pollock will take the place, yet it is not impossible that H. B. may fancy it, and if he does, it might not be easy for Peel to give him a rebuff. — Ever affectionately yours, J. G. L." Lockhart's very sorrows are a contrast to those of his friend. There is something of a listless bitterness in the words " I should be unable to awaken more than a dim ghost-like semi-sympathy with them, or in anything present or to come." He is stricken, as it were, and will not look up. But my father, with that healthful heart of his, that joyous nature that smiles even in the midst of tears, had scarcely yet laid aside the strong enthusiasm which belonged so remarkably to his youth. His energies are, as may be seen from the following letter to his son John, still directed to the "Kemp affair." The subject is pleasantly mingled with domestic interests concerning Billholm : "6 Gloucester Place, Saturday 6th 1844. "My dear John, — On looking over the portfolio of prints, I thought Harvey's Covenanters, Baptism, and Allan's Burns worth framing, and have got them framed in same style with Allan's Scott in the dining-room. These three make a trio, with Harvey in the middle, which will hang, I think, well on the drawing-room wall opposite the front window. "The Polish Exiles will hang, I think, well to the right of the door, as you enter the drawing-room, if in the middle, so as at any time to allow of two appropriate pendants. The demure Damsel may range with Victoria. But follow your own taste, which is as good, or better than mine. 444 MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSON. " The five will make the room look gay, and they leave this by the waggon on the 8th instant, directed to be left at Langholm till called for. " I close my session on Friday the 1 2th, or perhaps a day or two sooner. The weather here is fine, and I trust you will have a good lambing season in spite of the severities since you left us. I see prices are somewhat better, and trust this year may be considerably more favourable than the last two. My own motions are not fixed for the future ; but I shall not leave this before the latter end of May for any other quarter. Four hundred persons were assembled to inter Kemp in the Scott Monument. I heard of it at eleven o'clock ; saw M'Neill, and after much angry discussion with a deputation, stopped the funeral, and turned it into the West Kirk- yard. They had got leave from . . . and some other fools, and had kept the public ignorant of the proceedings. Very general approbation of our interference is not unmixed with savage or sulky exasperation among the ten-pounders who stood up for their order. It would have been a vulgar outrage. Next day's Witness was insolent, but since, there has been a calm sough. The general committee have since passed resolutions approving our conduct We passed them ourselves, and I moved them in a strong speech, to which there was no reply. "A Professor of Music was to be chosen on Saturday, the 3d March. We were all met; but neither party could tell how it might go, as there were two doubtful votes. The Bennettites boldly moved, on false and foolish pretence of giving time to a new candidate named Pearson, to postpone the election till the ist of June ; and this motion was carried by one. They hope something may occur before then, to give Bennett a better chance ; and they expect to have the vote of the Chemical Professor, who is to be elected in a few weeks, which may turn the scales. . . . We are all well, and Mary will visit you soon. I leave Blair, who is well, to speak for his own motions. He has been talking of going to Bill- holm for some days past. With love from all here and in Carlton Street. — I am, your affectionate father, J. Wilson." Soon after this home-loving spirit has assisted in making the LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LITE. 445 l)retty pastoral farm " look gay," we find him in the full energy of his ardent nature, awakening the sympathies of all around him on a subject that moved the whole Scottish nation as with one heart, and ultimately brought a stream of sympathetic souls together to the banks of Doon, till it seemed as if all Scotland had poured its life there to do honour to the memory of Burns. The Burns Festival was an occasion fitted to call forth the zeal of Wilson's nature, and he worked heart and soul in the cause, with vigour little less than that which impelled him, in " his bright and shining youth," to walk seventy miles to be present at a Burns meeting, which he " electrified with a new and peculiar fervour of eloquence, such as had never been heard before."* We have three letters relative to this great gathering ; one is addressed to his son- in-law, Mr Gordon, before it took place, with a view to arranging the toasts : — " My dear Sheriff, — The toasts now stand well, and we shall not try to improve the arrangement. What you say about the poor dear Shepherd is, I fear, true, though his fame will endure. Neither will his memory have to come in till after Scott and Campbell ; and we all know, that even on a generally popular theme, it is very diffi- cult to secure attention and interest far on in the * Course of Time.' Perhaps the memory of the Shepherd cannot be given at all, for if some prosing driveller, without name or influence, were to give it, it would not do at all. If so, I shall speak of him during what I say of Burns. Will that do ? I desire to have your opinion of this; for if you think it would not do, I shall look about for a proper person to give his memory after AUson has spoken. William * Of the Professor's walking feats I have not been able to gather many authentic anecdotes. Mr Aird mentioned the fact quoted here in his speech at the Bums Festival, and my brother writes me on the subject : — " I have often heard him men- tion the following. He once walked forty miles in eight hours, but when or where he did it I cannot recollect. On another occasion he walked from Liverpool to Elleray, within the four-and-twenty hours. I do not know what the distance is, but think it must be somewhere about eighty miles. You are correct about his walking from Kelso to Edinburgh — forty miles, to attend a public dinner. It was in 1822, when the King was there. Once, when disappointed in getting a place in the mail from Penrith to Kendal, he gave his coat to the driver, set off on foot, reached Kendal some time before the coach, and then trudged on to Elleray." 446 MEMOIR 01- JOHN IVILSON. Aytoun? What should follow? 'The Peasantry,' etc. That toast I recommended to Mr Ballantine. and we leave it in his hands, or any one he may select to do it for him. If the Justice-General or Lord Advocate were to give * Lord Eglinton ' in a few sentences, it would do well. But such toast is not necessary ; for the names might be merely mentioned, and the thanks carried by acclamation. So with all others. These toasts might be set down and assigned, and given as circumstances may permit. " I shall write to Ballantine to that effect, subject to any alter- ations : and there is no need to print the toasts, etc., tunes, etc., till all is fixed, a few days before the 6th ; vice-chairman, stewards, . etc., as no man of course would, on such an occasion, speak of himself, the place assigned him, whatever that may be, speaking for itself " Finally, we propose ' The Provost and Magistrates of Ayr and other Burghs,' and 'The Ladies,' of course, with shouts of love and delight. And so finis." The next letter is from Sergeant Talfourd,* whom he had invited to join the meeting at Ayr : — "Oxford, July 14, 1844. " Mv DEAR Sir, — Your very kind letter respecting the festival on the banks of the Doon has reached me at this city, where I am on the Circuit ; and if it were possible for me to meet the wish it so cordially expresses, I should at once recall the answer I felt compelled to give to the invitation of the committee, and look forward with delight to sharing in the enjoyments of the time. When, however, I tell you the sad truth, that on the 6th August we {i.e., the Circuit) shall be at Shrewsbury, and on the 7th shall turn southward to Hereford, so that it will be impossible for me to be in Scotland on the 6th by the utmost exertion, and all the aid of steamboats and railways, without entirely absenting myself from both the Shrewsbury and the Hereford Assizes, and causing serious inconvenience to many, besides the loss to myself. I am sure you will sympathize with the conviction I have reluctantly adopted, that Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd died in the discharge of his professional duties at the Assizes, 1854. LITERARY AND DOiVESTIC LIFE. 447 / cannot be with you at your most interesting meeting. Our long circuit, which is this year somewhat later than usual, in consequence of the Irish Writ of Error, will not close before the 2 2d or 23d August, when I hope to take my family to the country you know so well in the neighbourhood of Windermere, where Mr Words- worth has taken a cottage for us for the holidays. If your festival had, happily for me, occurred while I was there at liberty, I should have embraced, with pleasure I cannot express, the opportunity of meeting you under circumstances so original as the celebration of one of the truest poets who ever lived, and of beholding his genius by the light of yours, and then I might perhaps have hoped to induce our great living poet to accompany me. But I am tanta- lizing myself by fancying impossibilities, and can only hope that Wordsworth may grace vour festival, and that all happiness may attend it, and you and yours, — Believe me to remain, my dear Sir, most truly and respectfully yours, T. N. Tai.fourd." The last from the Professor to Aird is characteristic of that gentle courtesy which the chivalry of his nature ever showed to woman. Such traits of kindliness may seem almost too trifling to draw attention to, but they are unfortunately not so common in the routine of intercourse with our fellow-creatures as could be wished : — " Edinburgh, Saturday Evening, August x'jih, 1844. " My dear Mr Aird, — I looked about for you in all directions, but could not see you on the field or in the Pavilion. I wished most to have had you on the platform, as the procession passed by before the Adelphi. It was very affecting. "I told the Committee a week or two before the Festival, to invite Mrs Thomson (Jessie Lewars), and no doubt they did so. But I could get no information about her being there from any- body, so did not allude to her in what I said, lest she might not be present. ' *' I spoke to a lady in the Aulds' cottage, thinking she was Mrs Begg, but she told me she was not; giving me her name, which I did not catch. Perhaps she was Mrs Thomson? I wish you would 448 MEMOIR OF JOHN IVILSON: inquire, and, if so, tell her that I did not hear the name ; for, if it was she, I must have seemed wanting in kindness of manner. I saw it stated in a newspaper that she was seated in the Pavilion with Mrs Begg. I wished I had known that — if it was so ; but nobody on the morning of the Festival seemed to know anything, and Mr Auld in his cottage naturally enough was so carried, that he moved about in all directions with ears inaccessible to human speech. "A confounded bagpipe and a horrid drum drove a quarter of an hour's words out of my mind, or rather necessitated a close, leaving out a good deal to balance what I did say. " I intend publishing my address in Blackwood's next number, properly corrected, along with all the others ; and, if you can find a place for it in the Herald, I wish you would, for I wish the people in the country to see it, if they choose, in right form. Speakers are at the mercy of the first reporter, and at the mercy of circum- stances. " I am not without hopes of seeing you at Dumfries this month — or early next. 'Twas a glorious gathering. — Yours affectionately, "John Wilson." My father was always glad to escape from Edinburgh during the summer, but latterly he required other inducement than the "rod" to take him from home; a solitary "cast" was losing its charm, and he now liked to find companions to saunter with him by loch and stream. This summer his old friend, Dr Blair, had been visit- ing him, and was easily prevailed on to take a ramble to the Dochart before returning south. The following letter to his daugliter Jane (Umbs or " Crumbs "), tells of his own sport and of the Wizard i walks : — "LuiB, Sunday, yune i, 1845. "Dear Crumbs. — We arrived at Luib (pronounced Libe) on the Dochart, foot of Benmore, on Tuesday afternoon at three o'clock, via Loch Lomond and Glenfalloch. We soon found our- selves ensconced in a snug parlour looking into a pretty garden, and Ml every way comfortable. Our bedroom is double-bedded— small ; LITERARY AA'D DOMESTIC LIFE. 449 but such beds I have not slept in for 100 years. Since our arrival till ihis hour there has not been above twenty drops of rain, and the river (the Dochart) has not been known so low by the oldest in- habitant, who is the landlord — aged eighty-five — deaf and lame — but hearty and peart. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturda}', after breakfast, / walked three miles up the river, which Hows past the inn, and fished down, killing each day with midges about three dozen good trout, like herrings, of course, and about ten dozen of fry — a few of about a pound ; none larger. The natives are aston- ished at my skill, as in such weather fish were never caught before. The Wizard* disappears in the morning, and returns to dinner about six. On Thursday he left Luib about nine, and returned at half-past seven, having been over a range of mountains and back again, certainly 2000 feet high. But on Friday he was much fatigued and kept to the valley, and even yesterday he had not recovered from his fatigue. With respect to myself, I am always knocked up at night, and fresh in the morning. I made right down the middle of the river among huge rocks and stones, avoiding all the pools twenty feet deep, of which there are hundreds, many places utterly dried up, others not a foot deep. In l^ood or rains it must be a most tremendous river. On Monday I think of going to Loch Narget (Maragan ?), about eight miles over the hills, but only if windy and cloudy. '• On the whole this is the pleasantest inn I ever was at, and the station in all respects delightful. The Wizard takes a gill of whisky daily. I have given up all hopes of rain, and intend staying here a few days longer. We shall be at Cladich on Thursday." "Port Sonachan, June 9. " My dear Umbs, — We left Luib on Thursday the 5th instant, and reached Cladich at half-past seven. No Wdliams, nor room for ourselves, so we proceeded three miles to Port Sonachan, where we have been ever since. Friday was a day of stonn, and no fishing. Having allowed my boat to drift a few miles to leeward, it took two boatmen three hours to bring me back to port, during which time it rained incessantly, and was bitter cold. I suffered * Dr Alexander Blair. 2 i- 45 J MEMOIR OF JOHN WILSO.V. much, and was in fits on Saturday. The fishing was bad, and I only killed nine ; but one was a noble fellow, upwards of two jiounds. On Monday kept the house all day. To-day fished eight miles down the lake to Castle Ardchonnel, a very fine old ruin on an island, which I had never seen before ; landed and dined in the the castle with Archy and Sandy, time from three to four o'clock ; wound up and returned before the wind, homeward-bound ; beheld the Wizard on a point of the loch, and took him in ; reached Port Sonachan before seven, and dined sumptuously. Angling had been admirable; sixty-one trout crammed into the basket, which could not have held another. Of these, thirty were from one-half to three-quarters and one pound each ; the rest not small ; they covered two large tea-trays. It reminded me of the angling thirty and thirty-five years ago. The natives, especially Archy, were astonished. " 1 understood the Wizard wrote to Blair yesterday ; he enjoys himself much, and walks about from morning to night." We shall now follow him through a small portion of the year 1845, when he appears to have resumed his work with steady pur- pose, as may be seen by looking at the Magazine for seven con- secutive months. North's Specimens of the "British Critics" make a noble contribution to that periodical. Those papers, along with too many of equal power and greater interest, have found jealous protection within the ceintiirc of its pages, and seem destined to a fate which ought only to belong to the meagre works of mediocrity. The eighth number of " British Critics " was written at EUeray, whither he had gone for a few weeks, tempted by a beautiful summer, and the natural longing of his heart to roam about a place full of so many images, pleasant and sad, of the past. The follow- ing note to Mr Gordon refers to this article : — "Elleray, Wednesday. " My dear Gordon, — I am confidently looking for best accounts of dear Mary every day. " Pray, attend 1 1 have sent a long article to Blackwood — ' No. Mil. on Critics' — about MacFlecnoe, but chiefly the 'Dunciad.' It will be very long, — far longer than 1 had anticipated, or he may LITERARY AND DOMESTIC LIFE. 45 i wish. It cannot be sent here for correction, and I wish much you would edit it. " Blackwood will give it to you when set up — and I hope cor- rected in some measure by the printer — along with the MS. ; and perhaps oil Tuesday you may be able to go over it all, and prevent abuses beyond patience. I will trust to you I also give you jjower to leave some out., if absolutely necessary. Don't let it be less than thirty-tti