Archibald Alison, born at Edinburgh in 1757, studied at Glasgow University and Balliol College, Oxford; was ordained in 1784; from 1800 to 1831 was an Episcopal minister in Edinburgh; and died 17th May 1839. His “Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste” (1790) advocate the “association” theory of the sublime and beautiful, and are written much in the style of Blair, as are also his “Sermons” (1814–15).
Personal
I am quite taken with his conversation: he appears to me to possess a fund of diversified and miscellaneous information, and to have gradually formed the acquisition not only with the vigour of an original and reflecting mind, but with the temper of a mind happily harmonised and free from all the shackles of theory as well as of prejudice. This information is likewise communicated not only with the most unaffected ease, and with an air of perfect liberality and candour, but with a mixed sensibility and pleasantry which I have seldom seen so well blended together.
It is long since I was at Edinburgh, and when I was there nothing of importance was a-doing. I heard Alison preach. His elocution is clear—his style elegant—his ideas distinct rather than profound. Some person contrasting him and Chalmers, observed that the Prebendary of Sarum is like a glass of spruce beer,—pure, refreshing, and unsubstantial—the minister of the Tron Kirk, like a draught of Johnnie Dowie’s ale,—muddy, thick, and spirit-stirring.
To me he appears the best preacher I have ever heard.
My earliest recollections of domestic life are those of the solitude and seclusion of an English parsonage-house. Though visited occasionally by the great, often by the learned, the greater part of our life, even in summer, and the whole winter, was spent alone. A devoted worshipper of Nature, my father was firmly impressed with the conviction, so conspicuous in his writings, that the best feelings of the heart are to be drawn from her influences, and the purest enjoyments of life from her contemplation. He studied her works incessantly. The migration of birds, the changes of the seasons, the progress of vegetation, were the subjects of constant observation, and by keeping an accurate daily register, not only of the weather, but of the blooming of flowers and the changes of vegetation, he maintained a constant interest by comparing the progress of one season with another. Botany, zoology, and ornithology were in his hands not mere unmeaning sciences containing an artificial classification of objects and a dry catalogue of names, but a key to the secret interests of Nature, and commentaries on the wisdom and beneficence of its Author. White’s “Natural History of Selborne” was the subject of his study and the object of his imitation. We all grew up with the same habits, and indelibly received the same impressions.
General
He has never received fame enough for a book [“Principles of Taste”] which, with many faults, contains many beautiful thoughts and many charms in the writing.
The style of these “Sermons” is something new, we think, in the literature of this country. It is more uniformly elevated, more profusely figured—and, above all, more curiously modulated, and balanced upon a more exact and delicate rhythm, than any English composition in mere prose with which we are acquainted. In these, as well as in some more substantial characteristics, it reminds us more of the beautiful moral harangues that occur in the Telemaque of Fenelon, or of the celebrated Oraisons funebres of Bossuet, than of any thing of British growth and manufacture:—Nor do we hesitate at all to set Mr. Alison fairly down by the side of the last named of those illustrious Prelates. He is less lofty perhaps; but more tender and more varied—less splendid, but less theatrical—and, with fewer striking reflections on particular occurrences, has unquestionably more of the broad light of philosophy, and the milder glow of religion. In polish and dignity we do not think him at all inferior—though he has not the advantage of enhancing the simple majesty of Christianity by appeals to listening monarchs, and apostrophes to departed princes.
Alison denied that there is any intrinsic pleasure either in sound, in colour, or in form. He resolved the emotions of sublimity and beauty into associations with primitive sensibilities. The “Essay” is written in a very readable style for a work of abstruse analysis.
The arrangement and manner of the work [“Principles of Taste”] are admirable. The style is distinguished by infinite grace, and is worthy of being compared to that of Addison:—indeed I am not sure if we have a more beautiful specimen of the last-century manner of composition, moulded on the “Spectator,” on the French classics, and the wits of Queen Anne. Every word is appropriate, and is in its appropriate place; and the sentences glide along like a silvery stream. The descriptions of natural scenery, which are very numerous, are singularly felicitous and graceful: that word graceful ever comes up when we would describe his manner. He does not seem to have had an equal opportunity of studying beauty in the fine arts, in architecture, statuary, and painting, though the allusions to the universally known models of these are always appreciative and discriminating.
Justly admired [“Sermons”] for the elegance and beauty of their language, and their gentle, persuasive inculcation of Christian duty. On points of doctrine and controversy the author is wholly silent: his writings, as one of his critics remarked, were designed for those who “want to be roused to a sense of the beauty and the good that exist in the universe around them, and who are only indifferent to the feelings of their fellow-creatures and negligent of the duties they impose, for want of some persuasive monitor to awake the dormant capacities of their nature, and to make them see and feel the delights which providence has attached to their exercise.”
The Association school produced as its characteristic æsthetics Alison’s “Essays on the Principles of Taste,” which had the fatal defect of satisfying Francis Jeffrey.
