The Press.
London, England, 1858-06-12 00:00:00

THE PRESS, JUNE 12, 1858.

in 1816 ; but " Maga" had now burst upon a
dazzled world, and Wilson at once adopted that
form of composition which he may be said to
have completely made his own, and in which he
has distanced all imitators by as wide an in-
terval as Scott has in the historical novel. From
time to time he contributed short poetical pieces
to Blackwood, and in 1825 a collected edition of
them was published ; after which date his efforts
in this direction may be said, with some trifling
exceptions, to have terminated.
Wilson's ideal of human excellence evidently
had some affinity with that of the ancient
Greeks,—the development, and due subordina-
tion, of every part of our nature, rather
than the exclusive culture of any one fa-
culty. Thus in him the poet, the philoso-
pher, the critic, the politician, and the athlete
were all most happily blended into one splendid
whole, but a whole, nevertheless, calculated to
make a less distinct impression than many a
smaller man in whom one quality alone twinkles
with peculiar lustre. The influence of Wilson
on society was immense in his generation, and
will long continue to be felt. We are conscious
of his presence and rejoice in his genial rays as
we do in the warmth of the sun ; but future
ages will hardly be able to look up to him
as a distinct star in the firmament of the Past.
He gloried in his broad humanity. He deter-
mined "not to lose the good of life" in the pur-
suit of posthumous fame. If it came, it was to
come to him like everything else, at no greater
price than it was worth. His end was to develope
himself and teach others to do the same ; and
when this was accomplished, if posterity chose to
crown him, they might ; if not, his life would
have been equally noble, natural, and free.
Essays. By the late George Brimley, M.A.,
Librarian of Trinity College, Cambridge.

Edited by William- George Clark, M.A.
Cambridge : Macmillan and Co.
ALAS that this volume should come to us
inscribed with the sad phrase In Memoriam !
It is published as a memorial of one of the most
genial and gifted of modern critics. To those
who knew him, it will ever be a source of painful
pleasure ; while from strangers it will compel a
meed of admiration, and a tribute of regret " for
that he died so young." Recollections will endear
it to many; its intrinsic value will recommend
it to all.

George Brimley's life is soon told. The thirty-
eight years over which it extended were nearly
all spent in Cambridge, and half of them were
passed within the walls of Trinity College. Pre-
vented by ill-health from becoming a candidate
for University honours, his merits were never-
theless so apparent that the Master and Senior
Fellows of his College, unwilling to lose so bright
an ornament of their society, conferred on him
the honourable office of Librarian. In this
position, with ample leisure and opportunities for
study, with the companionship of tried friends
and in the neighbourhood of home, his life was
made as happy as life can be without health.
Of his connection with literature, the friend to
whose pious care we are indebted for this volume
gives the following account :

For the last six years be contributed articles regularly
to the Spectator, and occasionally also to Fraser's Magazine,
an employment which suited him under the circumstances
better than any other, as his bodily feebleness forbade him
to attempt any work of scope and difficulty corresponding
to his mental powers. To this, his appointed task, he
devoted himself with conscientious diligence. Papers
found after his decease show the pains he took to qnalify
himself for the responsible duty of a literary judge by
careful study and elaborate analysis of the books he was
about to criticize. Undertaken in this spirit, his work
interested and amused him, while at the same time he
was cheered and gratified by the attention and admiration
which his articles received. In this way, also, he came to
reckon among the number of his friends some of the.most
eminent literary men of their time. He made no enemies,
because, though he never hesitated to state what he be-
lieved to be right, his own sensitive and affectionate nature
guarded him front the wanton infliction of pain upon
others. Seldom indeed did a petulant sarcasm or an in-
considerate jest fall from his pen. Belonging to no patty
and to no clique, he was eminently impartial.

The selection of the Essays of which this
volume is composed has been made with great
judgment and discrimination. There are six
articles from the Spectator—models of newspaper
criticism ; and tour articles of greater length
from Fraser's Magazine and the Cambridge
Essays. The subjects arc all chosen from con-
temporary literature, and relate chiefly to works

561

of imagination. Among writers of fictioi,
Dickens, Thackeray, Bulwer Lytton, and Kings-
ley are reviewed; among poets, Wordsworth,
Tennyson, and Coventry Patmore. The remain-
ing articles are on 'Wilson's " Noctes Ambro-
slam," Carlyle's "Life of Sterling," and Comte's
"Positive Philosophy."
In reference both to poetry and fiction George
llrimley had well-defined theories, on which his
criticism was based, and by the test of which he
tried all works submitted to his judgment—care-
less of established reputations, and unbiassed by
personal affections. His standard of taste was
high, but it was unvarying ; and though some
might complain that he required too much, none
could accuse him of favouritism or subserviency.
No more conscientious critic ever existed; but
as he made no secret of the laws which governed
his decisions, their unswerving application could
never give just offence. His theory of poetry is
thus stated :
A poem must present its subject as an organic whole,
which, though made up of parts common, it may be, to an
infinite variety of other wholes. is itself distinct from eveey
other whole, and is recognizable at once for what it is, an
individual not identical with any other individual of the
same general character. Any presentation of a subject
that falls short of this tends either towards scientific
abstraction or towards the utterly inarticulate—that which
neither intellect nor imagination have firmly grasped or
clearly apprehended. This is the principle which we
shall apply to the compositions we are celled to judge, in
deciding on their imaginative power. As to questions of
form, we have already stated that rhythm, metre, and all
that constitutes the mode of expression rather than the
substance ( though in art it is hazardous to draw hard lines
of distinction between form and substance, where form is
not conventional), are spontaneous natural signs of the
sitiger's emotion, and, as regards the reader, at once an
index to the singer's intensity of poetic temperature—a
kind of metronome—and the medium through which the
same heat of emotion is kindled in the reader, and he is
infused with the passion as well as the imaginative per-
ception rif the subject. All, then, we have to ask ourselves
in reference to the fortn of any particular poem is, whether
it does so express the emotion of the writer, and what
quality and degree of emotion it expresses—that of a great
soul tallied to the height of its subject, or of a little soul
vainly stiiiing to warm its thin blood, but puny, starved,
and shivering, even in presence of the central fires of the
universe. To any poem which will stand the test of the
application of these principles, the tribute of our hearty
admiration is due, and will he joyfully paid. What will
not stand this test is not poetry at all ; and in masque-
rading under the poetical costume, it is tolerably sure to
lose any worth or attractiveness of sincere human speech ;
as the voice we may delight to hear in its own natural tones
of conversation ceases to charm, and becomes painfully
ridiculous, in attempting the accomplishment of singing
for which nature has not adapted its organization.

His view of the aim and object of fiction is
equally lofty and distinct :

To make us wiser and larger•hearted—to conduct us
through a wider range of experience than the actual life of
each generally permits—to make us live in the lives of
other types of character than our own, or than those of
our daily acquaintance—to enable ns to pass by sympathy
into other minds and other circumstances, and especially
to train the moral nature by sympathy with noble charac-
ters and noble actions—these are the high aims of fiction
in the hands of its master wielders ; these are the aims
which have raised novels and dramas to an importance
which Nature herself indicates in assigning to their pro-
duction those powers which the consent of all ages allows
to rank supreme among the gifts of the human race.

We cannot follow the essayist in his application
of these theories to the various writers whose
works are reviewed in his pages. The task was
difficult, for he had to deal with some of the
greatest names in contemporary literature, many
of them his own intimate friends ; but he per-
formed his self-imposed duty with a keen discern-
ment and an unflinching honesty. The loss which
literature has sustained in his death can hardly
be over-estimated ; but the monument which hie
friends have raised to his memory in this volume
will amply serve to perpetuate the fame of George
Brimley as a judicious thinker, an accomplished
scholar, and a Christian gentleman.

LITERATURE.

The fourth number of the Englishwoman's Journal
contains some very sensible articles. The best paper
in the number, however, is ore upon Rosa Bun-
heur, from which we give the following extract :

Rasa Bonheur is an indefatigable worker. She rises at
six o'clock and paints until dusk, when she lays aside bar
blouse, puts on a bonnet and shawl of most unfashionablo
appearance, sad takes a turn through the neighbouring
streets alone, or accompanied only by a favourite dog.
Absorbed in her own thoughts, and unconscious of every-
thing around her, the first conception of a picture is fre-
quently struck out by her in these rapid, solitary walks in
the twilight.
Living solely for her art, she has gladly resigned the
cares of her outward existence to an old and devoted friend,
• Madame Micas, a widow lady, who with her daughter—au

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