In the early days of the nineteenth century Edinburgh certainly aspired
to prouder eminence as a centre of light and learning than it has
continued to maintain. Tory energy, provoked by the arrogance of
Jeffrey, had found its earliest expression in London, but the northern
capital evidently determined not to be left behind in the game of
unprincipled vituperation. _Blackwood_, unlike its rivals in infancy,
was issued monthly, and its closely printed double columns add something
to the impression of heaviness in its satire.
JOHN WILSON
(1785-1854)
There is admittedly something incongruous in any association between the
genial and laughter-loving Christopher North and the reputation incurred
by the periodical with which he was long so intimately associated. He
had contributed--as few of his confederates would have been permitted--
to the _Edinburgh_; but he was Literary Editor to _Blackwood_ from
October, 1817, to September, 1852. Originally a disciple of the Lake
School, at whom he was frequently girding, he migrated to Edinburgh
(where he became Professor of Moral Philosophy in 1820), and attracted
to himself many brilliant men of letters, including De Quincey.
The "mountain-looking fellow," as Dickens called him, the patron of
"cock-fighting, wrestling, pugilistic contests, boat-racing, and
horse-racing" left his mark on his generation for a unique combination
of
boisterous joviality and hardhitting. Well known in the houses of the
poor; more than one observer has said that he reminded them of the
"first man, Adam." He "swept away all hearts, withersoever he would."
"Thor and Balder in one," "very Goth," "a Norse Demigod," "hair of the
true Sicambrian yellow"; Carlyle describes him as "fond of all
stimulating things; from tragic poetry down to whiskey-punch. He snuffed
and smoked cigars and drank liqueurs, and talked in the most
indescribable style.... He is a broad sincere man of six feet, with long
dishevelled flax-coloured hair, and two blue eyes keen as an eagle's ...
a being all split into precipitous chasms and the wildest volcanic
tumults ... a noble, loyal, and religious nature, not _strong_ enough to
vanquish the perverse element it is born into."
The foundation of Wilson's criticism, unlike most of his contemporaries,
was generous and wide-minded appreciation, yet he "hacked about him,
distributing blows right and left, delivered sometimes for fun, though
sometimes with the most extraordinary impulse of perversity, in the
impetus of his career." With all a boy's love of a good fight, he shared
with youth its thoughtless indifference to the consequences.
His not altogether unfriendly criticisms inspired one of Tennyson's
lightest effusions--
You did late review my lays,
Crusty Christopher;
You did mingle blame and praise
Rusty Christopher.
When I learnt from whence it came,
I forgave you all the blame,
Musty Christopher;
I could not forgive the praise
Fusty Christopher.
The _Noctes Ambrosianae_ is certainly a unique production. Though
ostensibly a dialogue mainly between himself, Tickler (i.e., Lockhart),
and Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd--with other occasional dramatis personae;
the main bulk of them (including everything here quoted) was written by
Wilson himself--in this form, to produce an original effect. The
conversations are, for the most part, thoroughly dramatic, and cover
every conceivable subject from politics and literature to the beauty of
scenery, dress, cookery, and the various sports beloved of Christopher.
There is much boisterous interruption for eating, drinking, and personal
chaff.
Of the longer quotations selected we would particularly draw attention
to the humorous and epigrammatic parody of Wordsworth, on whom Wilson
elsewhere bestows generous enthusiasm; and the broad-minded outlook
which can appreciate the contrasted virility of Byron and Dr. Johnson.
But it would be impossible to give an approximately fair impression of
the _Noctes_, without many examples of those paragraph criticisms
scattered broadcast on every page, which we have presented as "Crumbs"
from the feast. The magnificent recantation to Leigh Hunt--on whom
_Blackwood_ had bestowed even more than its share of abuse--has passed
into a proverb.