1785-1854
[Sidenote: de Quincey’s _Life and writings_.]
“William Wordsworth it was who ... did me the favour of making me
known to John Wilson.... A man in a sailor’s dress, manifestly in
robust health, _fervidus juventa_, and wearing upon his countenance
a powerful expression of ardour and animated intelligence, mixed
with much good nature. ‘Mr. Wilson of Elleray’--delivered as the
formula of introduction, in the deep tones of Mr. Wordsworth--at once
banished the momentary surprise I felt on finding a stranger where I
had expected nobody, and substituted a surprise of another kind; and
there was no wonder in his being at Allan Bank, Elleray standing within
nine miles; but (as usually happens in such cases) I felt a shock of
surprise on seeing a person so little corresponding to the one I had
at first half-consciously prefigured. Figure to yourself a tall man
about six feet high, within half an inch or so, built with tolerable
appearance of strength; but at the date of my description (that is, in
the very spring-tide and bloom of youth) wearing, for the predominant
character of his person, lightness and agility or (in our Westmoreland
phrase) _lishness_, he seemed framed with an express view to gymnastic
exercises of every sort. Ask in one of your public libraries for that
little quarto edition of the ‘_Rhetorical Works of Cicero_’ ... and you
will there see ... a reduced whole-length of Cicero from the antique,
which in the mouth and chin, and indeed generally, if I do not greatly
forget, will give you a lively representation of the contour and
expression of Professor Wilson’s face. Of all this array of personal
features, however, I then saw nothing at all, my attention being
altogether occupied with Mr. Wilson’s conversation and demeanour, which
were in the highest degree agreeable; the points which chiefly struck
me, being the humility and gravity with which he spoke of himself, his
large expansion of heart, and a certain air of noble frankness which
overspread everything he said; he seemed to have an intense enjoyment
of life; indeed, being young, rich, healthy, and full of intellectual
activity, it could not be very wonderful that he should feel happy and
pleased with himself and others; but it was something unusual to find
that so rare an assemblage of endowments had communicated no tinge of
arrogance to his manner, or at all disturbed the general temperance of
his mind.”--1808.
[Sidenote: Harriet Martineau’s _Biographical Sketches_.]
“If the marvel of his eloquence is not lessened, it is at least
accounted for to those who have seen him,--or even his portrait. Such
a presence is rarely seen; and more than one person has said that he
reminded them of the first man, Adam, so full was that large frame
of vitality, force, and sentience. His tread seemed almost to shake
the streets, his eye almost saw through stone walls, and as for his
voice, there was no heart which could stand before it. He swept away
all hearts, whithersoever he would. No less striking was it to see him
in a mood of repose, as when he steered the old packet-boat that used
to pass between Bowness and Ambleside, before the steamers were put
upon the Lake. Sitting motionless with his hand upon the rudder, in
the presence of journey-men and market-women, with his eyes apparently
looking beyond everything into nothing, and his mouth closed under his
beard, as if he meant never to speak again, he was quite as impressive
and immortal an image as he could have been to the students of his
class or the comrades of his jovial hours.”
[Sidenote: Forster’s _Life of Dickens_.]
“Walking up and down the hall of the courts of law (which was full
of advocates, writers to the signet, clerks, and idlers), was a
tall, burly, handsome man of eight and fifty, with a gait like
O’Connell’s, the bluest eye you can imagine, and long hair--longer than
mine--falling down in a wild way under the broad brim of his hat. He
had on a surtout coat, a blue checked shirt; the collar standing up,
and kept in its place with a wisp of black neckerchief; no waistcoat;
and a large pocket-handkerchief thrust into his breast, which was all
broad and open. At his heels followed a wiry, sharp-eyed, shaggy devil
of a terrier, dogging his steps as he went slashing up and down, now
with one man beside him, now with another, and now quite alone, but
always at a fast, rolling pace, with his head in the air, and his eyes
as wide open as he could get them. I guessed it was Wilson; and it was.
A bright, clear-complexioned, mountain-looking fellow, he looks as
though he had just come down from the Highlands and had never in his
life taken pen in hand. But he has had an attack of paralysis in his
right arm within this month. He winced when I shook hands with him, and
once or twice when we were walking up and down slipped as if he had
stumbled on a piece of orange-peel. He is a great fellow to look at,
and to talk to; and, if you could divest your mind of the actual Scott,
is just the figure you would put in his place.”--1841.