The Scottish Philosophy [248]
his activities between poetry and rural sports, and "had a small fleet on Windermere." By 1810 he had written as many poems " as will make a volume Of 400 pages," of which the principal was " The Isle of Palms," descriptive of sea and island scenery, with a love story. In 1811 he was married to Miss Penny. A few years later he lost suddenly the fortune which his father had laid up for him so industriously. He bore the trial manfully, but had to remove to Edinburgh to the home of his mother, and he became an advocate. He did not acquire a large practice at the bar, and had time to write novels and poems, which were noticed favorably in the " Edinburgh Review."
Jeffrey asked him to write for the " Edinburgh," and he furnished an article on Byron. But Wilson was destined to occupy a place of his own. "Blackwood's Magazine" was started in 1817 by others, but did not become a power till it came under the control of Wilson. He was never formal editor. Blackwood retained the management in his own hand; and, knowing that literary men were commonly both needy and dilatory, he kept them to punctuality by not remunerating them till they produced the articles, and then paying them handsomely. But the winds and the sails were given to the vessel by Wilson, and "Blackwood " immediately became the best literary magazine of its day.
So that city of Edinburgh is still maintaining its high literary reputation. In Jeffrey they have a representative of the talent, and in Scott, with Wilson in an inferior degree, representatives of the genius of their country. The " blue and yellow " is the organ of the one and old " ebony of the other. The one favors taste and judgment; the other originality and literary beauty. The one is seeking to improve things, has no great {412} reverence for the wisdom of the ancients, looks forward to the future, and is considerably cool and indifferent towards religion; the other likes things as they are, has a profound reverence for old customs and feudal castles, and speaks highly of the forms of religion as established by law and custom,
"Blackwood's Magazine" is the great work of Wilson. his tales are full of sentiment too; much in the manner of Mackenzie, -- so much so as to be at times cloying as treacle. He professes to describe the trials and sorrows of the poor; but it is clear that he paints them as one who, with a warm heart, has viewed them at a distance, and who has never truly be come one of them. His poor are certainly not the Scotch poor, with their deep feeling, which oppresses them all the more that it cannot get an out let except in brief and restrained phrases, showing that they are repressing what should be allowed to flow out. His poetry is certainly beautiful in imagery and expression, but has too redundant foliage in proportion to the stem and branches which support it, and often wants a healthy air and a manly bearing. But the whole soil of Wilson comes out in the "Noctes Ambrosianm." We have here an extravaganza full of all excellencies and defects, of fun and frolic, wit and humor, fancies and imaginations, shrewd wisdom and ingenious nonsense, of offensively personal comment and genuine pathos, of drinking, swearing, morality, and religion, -- which, however, always smells of the whiskey punch of the tavern. The whole is a sort of rhapsody which reads like an inspiration, but breathing more of the soil of earth than the air of heaven. It is a waste, newly turned up, and yielding an exuberance of seeds and trees, flowers and fruit; but with weeds and chills and fevers.
In 1820, when Brown died, there was a keen struggle for the chair of moral philosophy. Sir James Mackintosh might have had it, but could not resist the temptations of politics and London society. The contest lay between Wilson and Sir William Hamilton known already as a scholar, but not as an author. The town council was unreformed; the tories had the political power of the city; they were annoyed by the attacks of Jeffrey and jealous of the growing liberal spirit fostered by the philosophical
Jeffrey asked him to write for the " Edinburgh," and he furnished an article on Byron. But Wilson was destined to occupy a place of his own. "Blackwood's Magazine" was started in 1817 by others, but did not become a power till it came under the control of Wilson. He was never formal editor. Blackwood retained the management in his own hand; and, knowing that literary men were commonly both needy and dilatory, he kept them to punctuality by not remunerating them till they produced the articles, and then paying them handsomely. But the winds and the sails were given to the vessel by Wilson, and "Blackwood " immediately became the best literary magazine of its day.
So that city of Edinburgh is still maintaining its high literary reputation. In Jeffrey they have a representative of the talent, and in Scott, with Wilson in an inferior degree, representatives of the genius of their country. The " blue and yellow " is the organ of the one and old " ebony of the other. The one favors taste and judgment; the other originality and literary beauty. The one is seeking to improve things, has no great {412} reverence for the wisdom of the ancients, looks forward to the future, and is considerably cool and indifferent towards religion; the other likes things as they are, has a profound reverence for old customs and feudal castles, and speaks highly of the forms of religion as established by law and custom,
"Blackwood's Magazine" is the great work of Wilson. his tales are full of sentiment too; much in the manner of Mackenzie, -- so much so as to be at times cloying as treacle. He professes to describe the trials and sorrows of the poor; but it is clear that he paints them as one who, with a warm heart, has viewed them at a distance, and who has never truly be come one of them. His poor are certainly not the Scotch poor, with their deep feeling, which oppresses them all the more that it cannot get an out let except in brief and restrained phrases, showing that they are repressing what should be allowed to flow out. His poetry is certainly beautiful in imagery and expression, but has too redundant foliage in proportion to the stem and branches which support it, and often wants a healthy air and a manly bearing. But the whole soil of Wilson comes out in the "Noctes Ambrosianm." We have here an extravaganza full of all excellencies and defects, of fun and frolic, wit and humor, fancies and imaginations, shrewd wisdom and ingenious nonsense, of offensively personal comment and genuine pathos, of drinking, swearing, morality, and religion, -- which, however, always smells of the whiskey punch of the tavern. The whole is a sort of rhapsody which reads like an inspiration, but breathing more of the soil of earth than the air of heaven. It is a waste, newly turned up, and yielding an exuberance of seeds and trees, flowers and fruit; but with weeds and chills and fevers.
In 1820, when Brown died, there was a keen struggle for the chair of moral philosophy. Sir James Mackintosh might have had it, but could not resist the temptations of politics and London society. The contest lay between Wilson and Sir William Hamilton known already as a scholar, but not as an author. The town council was unreformed; the tories had the political power of the city; they were annoyed by the attacks of Jeffrey and jealous of the growing liberal spirit fostered by the philosophical