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

THE PRESS, JUNE 12, 1858.

is raised, that we cannot bring ourselves merely
to include it in the above general description.
The question is " The Stoical Principle of Life
according to Nature," and Sir Alexander says :
The phrase " follow nature," to express the highest kind
of life, has never yet established itself in language. " One
touch of nature makes the whole world kin"—that is, any
perfectly simple and instinctive feeling, the very opposite of
anything abstract or cultivated. Again, the " natural
man," as opposed to the " spiritual man," denotes some-
thing utterly different from the Stoical idea of perfection,
Thus, comtson parlance retains its own associations con-
nected with the term nature, and rejects those of the
Stoics. But it is interesting to observe that Bishop
Butler has espoused their formula, and has argued that
" natnre " does not mean single impulses or desires, but
the idea of the constitution of the whole, reason and con-
science as regulative principles being taken into considera-
tion. Butler's object in maintaining this position was ob-
viously one relative to his own times. As in appealing to
a selfish age he thought it necessary to assert that virtue
was not inconsistent with the truest self-love, so also he
argued that virtue was not against natnre, but in reality
man's natural state. He here takes up, just like the
Stoics, an abstract ideal of nature ; for he makes the basis
of his reasoning a proviso that the moral rules of conscience
not only exist, but that they have anthotity—that is, that
tluy control, as they ought to do, the rest of the human
principles. Into the difficulties of the question Butler has
not entered. For instance, while he is perfectly successful
in establishing against the Hobbists the reality of the
moral elements in man's nature, he does not tell us whether
or not he would agree with the Stoics in ultimately giving
the entire supremacy to man's reason and conscience, so
as to supplant the other instincts, or at what point he
would stop. Again, he would ask him to define more accu-
rately his idea of " life according to nature." Is the life of
the saints and martyrs to be called a life according to
nature? If not, is it better or worse? and if better, is not
man to aim at the better? The whole question is one not
of mere words, but implying the discussion of a very im-
portant subject—namely, the way in which life is to be con-
ceived. There is one mode of representation which
describes life as a progress, a conflict, a good fight ; another
which makes it the following of nature. On the one hand,
there is the spirit of' aspiration and effort, the tendency to
asceticism, the victory of the will; on the other hand, there
are the genial, kindly, human feelings, there is the " wise
passivity " of mind, and there is the breadth of sympathy
which counterbalances an oyerconcentrated intensity of
aim. To make the formula " life according to nature "
of any value, we require to have these contradictory
tendencies harmonized with each other. We should then
see whether the term " nature " is at all capable of ex-
pressing the highest kind of life, or whether we must con•
tinue to think that this is something rather above " nature "
(as it exists in man) than a following of nature. We should
see how far it is really possible to conceive a harmony,
without the suppression of either, not only between the
"law of the members " and the "law of the spirit," but
also between the inner life and the interests and enjoyments
ofthe external world.

It does not appear to us that there can be so very
much difficulty about what the phrase "life ac-
cording to nature" means. It may be either
regenerate or unregenerate nature ; but, in either
case, it will mean conduct springing from a due
development of all that Nature has given us,
since Nature can have given us nothing in vain,
and duly directed towards that end which Nature
directs us to attain—orov T;i; )41404,VC 11)10'911CW
T;VTO cntAlr Tirest T;ly SILT keio-Toa. Now, all men,
Pagans and Christians, are agreed that that
end is happiness, whether earth or heaven is
the scene of its fruition. And then we are
thrown upon the question whether virtue or
vice produces the larger amount of happiness.
Here Butler, observing the more frequent re-
currence of vice punished than vice escaping
with impunity, pronounces that virtue, by
leading us to the end appointed by Nature, is the
"life according to nature." As to " saints and
martyrs," the question is a little more difficult,
but only at first sight. Christianity has taught
us that there is a certain portion of our nature
mysteriously corrupt. In living according to
nature, then, we are not to live according to the
diseased but the sound part of it. How far the
taint of original sin extends, we may perhaps be
permitted to say is a moot point. And accord-
ing to our views of this subject will be our opinion
whether the life of the saint or martyr does or
does not violate the Aristotelic mean. This is a
subject that would well hear amplification; and
we have always been rather surprised that Mr.
Maurice has passed it over in his account of the
Stoics.

Mr. Dasent's account of the Canon Law seems
to be minute and conscientious. But no one
critic can be expected to grasp so great a variety
of grave subjects as one of these volumes usually
presents to us, and accordingly all that we feel
justified in saying is that the subject is treated in
an attractive style, and that the language is elo-
quent and impressive. We would especially re-
commend to our readers p. 217, In which the

theory of the canon law is sketched out in a pas-
sage of remarkable power and beauty.
Mr. Goidwin Smith's article on "University
Reform" is not one of that gentleman's happiest
efforts. For a wonder, the style is heavy and
the treatment perplexed.

Behold a miracle instead of wit—
See two dull lines with Stanhope's pencil writ.
It is little more than a summary of what has been
already done, and as such is almost superfluous.
The only opinion we can get at with any degree
of clearness is one in favour of the marriage of
fellows, the ill consequences of which the fellows
of Trinity College, Dublin, are just beginning to
find out. Of the multiplication of scholarships,
we can only say that there are two sides to the
question. Instead of making real scholarship
plentiful, it may only dilute it. Because more
men walk about Oxford in scholar's gowns, it
does not prove that there are more scholars.
Indeed, if much that we hear from Oxford can
be trusted, there are not so many. But Libe-
ralism is pledged to change, whether for good or
for evil, and of course the new Liberal Professor
must wield the broom with vigour. As a spe-
cimen of reckless assertion, read the following :

The whole of English life is changed ; and if we _
now too open to the charge of worshippink wealth, let __
be borne in mind that the age which worshipped mendicancy
ground honest labour to the dust.

Mr. Froude has pretty well overturned this view
of the Middle Ages; and Mr. Goldwin Smit'
would do well to borrow some of that gentle-
man's careful and conscientious habits.

The Works of Professor Wilson. Vol. XII.

Poems. London : Blackwoods.
PROFESSOR WILSON was one of those happily,
constituted men in whom prose seems to melt
into poetry, and poetry to assume all the more
masculine attributes of prose. He had that rare
gift by which a man is enabled to drink in all
glories of the imagination, and to enjoy at
same time all the bustle and excitement of prac•
tical life. He had Johnson's eye for Fleet-street,
and Wordsworth's eye for the Nereid. lie WWI,
in every sense of the word, physically, morally,
andintellectually, a large man. What other
people make specialties he took in his stride
What poetry is to some men, politics to others,
religion to a third class, and history or philosoph:
to a fourth, that was human life to Professor
Wilson. He was so many-sided a man that from
whatever point we regard him we do not see
whole. When his poems were first published,
the Edinburgh Reviewers classed him with Cole-
ridge, Wordsworth, and Southey, and rather
insinuated that he would outstrip all three in
race up the sides of Parnassus. When Blaea
wood's Magazine was established, the same man
immediately took a high place as a political writer
and literary critic; while in his chair at Edin•
burgh he as instantaneously pushed into
front rank as a lecturer. When a shooting party
started in the cool of an August sunrise on the
Scottish hills, who was so safe a "double shot'
as the learned Professor ? And who, whc
whisky-flasks were produced, and the gam(
counted out in the shade, so full of
" quip and cranks " as that golden-haired
son of the morning ? By the river-side he
was equally deadly; and are not his exploits on
the back of Colonsay written in the book of the
Recreations of Christopher North ? To review
the poems of such a man is like writing an essay
on the finger-nails of Venus, or the curls
of Hercules. The man, the whole man, and
nothing but the man, is our cry when we
think of the Professor. But nevertheless, as his
poems arc now for the first time submitted to
this Journal for review, common etiquette com-
pels us to say something about them.
" The Isle of Palms," originally published lu
1812, seems, then, to us exactly what might have
been expected from the youth of such a man as
Wilson—exquisitely tender and pathetic, broad
in view and manly in tone, but slightly over-
charged (for the general reader) with the rap-
turous admiration of nature, which afterwards
sobered down into the beautiful descriptions we
meet with in his prose writings. A young gentle-
man and young lady on board ship are introduced
making love by moonlight. The ship strikes on
a hidden rock, and all on board arc lost except
these two. Securing one of the ship's boats, they
make for a desert island, which in natural beauty
realizes the Western Isles of Homer. Having

landed his hero and heroine in this delightful
spot, the author, true to human nature, at once
recognizes the results, and permits them to enjoy
the only possible alleviation of their exile. After
a sojourn of six years in this beautiful and happy
solitude, they are taken up by a passing vessel,
and with their little girl conveyed back to their
native land. Such is the outline of the piece
with which Wilson's fame as a poet is principally
associated, and which was thought good enough
by the severe critics of the north to place him on
a par with men who are poets and nothing else.
We subjoin a few extracts for the benefit of our
ranger readers, to whom " The Isle of Palms"
is, we fear, little more than a name :

And where shall these happy lovers dwell ?
Shall they seek in the cliffs for some mossy cell ?
Some wilder haunt than ever hermit knew ?
Where they may shun the mid-day heat,
And slumber in a safe retreat,
When evening sheds her dew ;
Or shall they build a leafy nest,
Where they like birds may sport and rest,
By clustering bloom preserved from sun and rain,
Upon some little radiant mound
Within reach of the freshening sound
That murmurs from the Main?
No farther need their footsteps roam :
Even where they stand, a sylvan home
Steals like a thought upon their startled sight ;
For Nature's breath with playful power
Bath framed an undecaying bower,
With colours heavenly bright.
Beyond a green and level lawn,
Its porch and roof of roses dawn
Through arching trees that lend a mellowing shade.
How gleams the bower with countless dyes !
Unwearied spring fresh bloom supplies,
Still brightening where they fade.
Two noble Palms, the forest's pride,
Guarding the bower on either aide,
Their straight majestic stems to heaven uproar:
There Beauty sleeps in Grandeur's arms,
And sheltered there from all alarms,
Hath nought on earth to fear.

• • •
Lo! stretching inward on the right,
A winding vale eludes the sight,
But where it dies the happy soul must dream :
Oh ! never sure beneath the sun,
Along such lovely banks did run
musical a stream.
But who shall dare in thought to paint
Yon fairy waterfall ?
Still moistened by the misty showers,
From fiery red, to yellow soft and faint,
Fantastic bands of fearless flowers
Sport o'er the rocky wall ;
And ever, through the shrouding spray,
Whose diamonds glance as bright as they,
Float birds of graceful form, and gorgeous plumes,
Or dazzling white as snow ;
While, as the passing sun illumes
The river's bed, in silent pride
Spanning the cataract roaring wide,
Unnumbered rainbows glow.
_ • _ s • ♦ _ •

Pure were their souls, as infant's breath,
Who in its cradle guiltless sinks in death.
No place for human frailty this,
Despondency or fears ;
Too beautiful the wild appears
Almost for human bliss.
Was love like theirs then given in vain?
And must they, trembling, shrink from pure delight ?
Or shall that God, who on the main
Hath bound them with a billowy chain,
Approve the holy rite,
That, by their pious souls alone
Performed before His silent throne
In innocence and joy,
Here, and in realms beyond the grave,
Unites those whom the cruel wave
Could not for grief destroy ?
No fears felt they of guilt or sin,
For sure they heard a voice within
That set their hearts at rest ;
They passed the (lay in peaceful prayer,
And when beneath the evening air,
They sought again their arbour fair,
A smiling angel met them there,
And bade their couch be blest.
Nor veiled the Moon her virgin•light,
But, clear sod cloudless all the night.
Hung o'er the flowers where love and 'oeauty lay;
And, loth to leave that holy bower,
With lingering pace obeyed the power
Of bright-returning day.
Ostensibly Wilson belonged to the Lake school ;
and indeed it is easy to see that he had Southey's
rhythm in his ear, and especially " The Curse of
Kehama," when he penned such passages as the
above. But, though evidently affected by the
new canons of poetry laid down by Wordsworth,
his more masculine temperament kept hint clear
from adopting them in their most literal signifi-
cation. lie soon, indeed, seems to have dis-
covered, like his brother poet and sportsman,
Walter Scott, that his strength lay elsewhere
than in minstrelsy. "The Isle of Palms" ap-
peared in 1812, and " The City of the Plague "