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AJ4 
 
 ACCOUNT 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 HUGH BLAIR, D, D. 
 
 F. R S. E. 
 
 ONE OF THE MINISTERS OF THE HIGH CHURCH, 
 
 AND PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND 
 
 BELLES LETTRES IN THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 EDINBURGH. 
 
 BY T^E LATE 
 
 JOHN HILL, L. L. D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF HUMANITY IN THE 
 
 'JNIVERSITY, AND FELLOW OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY 
 
 OF EDINBURGH. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PRINTED AND SOLD BY JAMES HUMPHREYS, 
 
 Change zva/kf 
 TheCtrner of iiecona ana fl^'alnut. streets, 
 
 ibob. 
 
. >w 
 
ACCOUNT 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 or 
 
 DR. HUGH BLAIR. 
 
 Biography, as a species of history, has 
 advantages pecuHar to itself. As venial de- 
 feds may be thrown into the shade, the 
 picture is beheld with more admiration than 
 the original. While the striking features 
 of a living charafter may be seen or report- 
 ed, we are less anxious to colled; them. 
 As long as the circumstances in which 
 his charadler is placed may vary, we feel 
 ourselves at liberty to change our opinions, 
 
and we fix unalterably the estimation that is 
 due to him, only when he has retired from 
 the scene of life. 
 
 • From departed worth there is seldom any 
 disposition to detrad:. Even the merit that 
 was once doubtful is recognised as genuine; 
 the outlines of a great character conceal its 
 foibles ; and the meanness of jealousy is 
 ashamed to show itself. 
 
 The talents and virtues^ which once com- 
 manded the admiration of the world, pre- 
 sent a subjedl of inquiry that is no less use- 
 ful than agreeable. What we are obliged 
 to revere, we are ever prone to imitate. 
 High as the standard may be by which 
 others have regulated their con dad:, the at- 
 tainment of it is seen to be possible; and 
 they who are accustomed to contemplate 
 distinguished endowments in others, often 
 fostej such in themselves, without being 
 conscious of doing so. 
 
 The author of this biographical disserta- 
 tion knows well the difficulty of the task 
 undertaken by him. From the singular 
 
modesty of its amiable suhje^, every ves- 
 tige of a corresp .ndencc, of Inch others 
 v^ould have been pro ad, has been destroy- 
 ed, except a ft^w letters resped:ing Ossiui's 
 Poems. Dr. Blair was of opinion, thit in 
 composing the lives of eminent men, an 
 improper use had been made of the letters 
 addressed to them ; and he did not think 
 it fair to turn such letters to a purpose, of 
 which those who wrote them were not 
 aware. 
 
 Many interesting anecdotes have thus pe- 
 rished, which the admirers of his charadter 
 would have read with pleasure. His bio- 
 grapher laments the loss of such valuable 
 materials ; and, while he feels the honour 
 of having been requested by his most inti-r 
 mate friend to transmit his name to poste- 
 rity, he wishes this last duty had fallen upon 
 One better qualified to discharge it. 
 
 The venerable Clergyman, v/hose life and 
 character are now to be the subjed: of at- 
 tention, was a lineal descendant of an an- 
 
cient family in the west of Scotland ; that 
 of Blair of Blair. Abilities of a superior 
 kind seem to have marked the family in 
 general ; and individuals of it have at dif- 
 ferent times taken the rank that was due 
 to them in the departments of divinity, of 
 law, and of physic. His great-grandfather, 
 Mr. Robert Blair, was eminent in the cleri- 
 cal profession, in which Dr. Blair himself 
 shone. As this Mr. Robert Blair was a cler- 
 gyman of distinguished reputation, some 
 preliminary observations respefting him may 
 not be unacceptable Great men spring 
 often from men like themselves ; and the 
 talents and virtues that once adorned an il- 
 lustrious ancestor, may be traced in the cha- 
 racter even of remote descendants. 
 
 Mr. Robert Blair was born in the end of 
 the sixteenth century, and was very early in 
 life appointed a professor in the university 
 of Glasgow. Feeling, however, a greater 
 inclination to preach the gospel, than to 
 teach philosophy, he obtained a license from 
 the church. Tiie merit of his sermons jus- 
 
tified the expeftations that had been formed 
 ol him, and they were often delivered to a 
 crowded audience. 
 
 During the vacation of the college, he 
 attended the celebrated Assembly held at 
 Perth in the year 1618. He there witnes- 
 sed the zeal of Spottiswood, Archbishop of 
 St. Andrews, in behalf of prelacy, and of 
 certain ceremonies before unknown in Scot- 
 land. In his own opinion, which was con- 
 trary to that of the Primate, he remained 
 unshaken, and could neither be seduced by 
 his artifices, nor intimidated by his threats. 
 The friends of Mr. Blair however, were 
 aware of the danger to which he exposed 
 himself. Monsieur Basnage, then receiving 
 contributions in Scotland for the French 
 protestants, invited him to go to France, 
 that he might avoid the vengeance of the 
 offended bishops. This offer he rejected; 
 and he declared publicly, with more zeal 
 than prudence, that the superiority of a 
 prelate over his diocese, of a primate over 
 a kingdom, and of a pope over the church, 
 
were, in his opinion, equally unauthorised 
 by scripture. 
 
 In consequence of the part which Mr. 
 Blair took in regard to the Perth i\rticles, 
 which were ratified in 162 1, his situation 
 in the university of Glasgow soon became 
 disagreeable. Law, the Archbishop of Glas- 
 gow, was rigorous in enforcing the Articles, 
 and Cameron, the Principal of the univer- 
 versity there, was ad:ive in seconding his 
 views. The ledlures of Mr. Blair being in- 
 vidiously watched, and misconstrued, com- 
 plaints were made of him to the king, which 
 his majesty was pleased to disregard. He 
 resolved, however, to give up an office in 
 which he could be of little service to the 
 public, and upon going over to Ireland, he 
 was settled as a clergyman at Bangor. 
 
 This change of situation at the same time 
 procured Mr. Blair I ut a short respite. The 
 principles which he had espoused in Scot- 
 land made him odious to the Irish Episco- 
 palians. He was dismissed from his charge 
 at Bangor by Ecklin, Bishop of Doune,- 
 
and he found no redress from Usher the 
 Primate. Urged by necessity, and encou- 
 raged by many, of whose wisdom and at- 
 tachment he was fully convinced, he took 
 the bold resolution of going to London, and 
 ot imploring in person the king's protedion.- 
 He was there promised support by the Earl 
 of Stirling, Secretary for Scotch affairs, but 
 deceived by him. Far from being discou- 
 raged by a breach of promise, which dis- 
 honoured the nobleman that was guilty of 
 it, he found his way to the king himself. 
 His majesty heard the request with gracious 
 condescension, and, by a missive in his own 
 hand-writing, commanded the Earl of Straf- 
 ford, then Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, to 
 see him reinstated in his benefice. 
 
 In the year 1639, after having been some 
 time a widower, Mr. Blair married Katha- 
 rine, daughter of Hugh Montgomery, of 
 Busby, in Ayrshire. As his situation in 
 Ireland, even in spite of the king's inter- 
 ference, became daily more uncomfortable. 
 
10 
 
 he determined to quit it. He set out with 
 other clergymen, upon a voyage to New 
 England, but was driven back by a storm. 
 Soon afterwards he came to Scotland, with 
 an intention to go abroad as chaplain to 
 Colonel Hepburn's regiment, then in the 
 French service. This intention, however, 
 was not fulfilled, from the attachment of 
 those who respedled his talents, and felt 
 for his misfortunes. Such was his popu- 
 larity, that a number of matrons presented, 
 in the streets of Edinburgh, an address to 
 the Earl of Traquair, lord Treasurer, re- 
 questing of the council, that he and his per- 
 secuted brethren might be restored to their 
 clerical fundions. The request was grant- 
 ed, and Mr. Blair was soon after settled as 
 minister at Ayr. There he was allowed to 
 remain but a short time. By an ad: of as- 
 sembly in 1639, he was ordered to trans- 
 port himself to St. Andrews; and that he 
 might submit the more cordially to the 
 mandate, his friend, Mr. Samuel Ruther-- 
 
11 
 
 ford, was appointed professor of divinity 
 there in St. Mary's College. 
 
 The character of Mr. Blair became more 
 conspicuous, as the times in which he lived 
 became more troublesome. After the de- 
 feat of Charles, who had burnt the articles 
 of treaty with the Scots, this distinguished 
 clergyman was appointed by the commit- 
 tee of estates to assist the commissioners 
 for ratifying the treaty at Rippon, in 1640. 
 Two years after, he was fent to Ireland by 
 the General Assembly, to settle probation- 
 ers in the room of those Protestant clergy- 
 men who were massacred during the rebel- 
 lion among the Papists. He was, by the 
 same authority, appointed in 1643 one of 
 the committee who met John, Earl of Rut- 
 land, and four other English commission- 
 ers, to ratify the Solemn League and Cove- 
 nant which was to be binding on the two 
 countries. He accompanied the army raised 
 by the convention of estates, to assist that 
 of the Parliament of England then at war 
 with the king, and remained with it as 
 
12 
 
 chaplain to Lord Crawford's regiment till 
 after the vidory obtained at Marston- 
 moor. 
 
 When Charles escaped from his own ar- 
 my, and put himself under the protection of 
 the Scots, Mr. Blair was sent with other 
 commissioners to meet the King at New- 
 castle. They the^e tried to reconcile his 
 majesty to presbyterian government, and to 
 the observance of the covenants. Though 
 the object in view was not obtained, yet 
 Mr. Blair adled with so much address and 
 discretion, as to recommend himself to his 
 majesty*s favour. Of this he received a 
 flattering proof, by being named sole chap- 
 lain for Scotland without soliciting the of- 
 fice. 
 
 When Cromwell came to Edinburgh, Mr. 
 Blair and two other clergymen were ap- 
 pointed to w^ait upon him, to request that 
 he would promote uniformity between the 
 churches of England and Scotland. Du- 
 ring the interview, he saw with his usual 
 penetration the charader of the Protedor, 
 
13 
 
 and the motives by which his conduft was 
 influenced. To these, one of his brethren 
 Mr. James Sharp, afterwards Archbishop of 
 St. Andrews, was bhnd ; and expressed his 
 satisfacflion with Cromwell's condescension. 
 Mr. Blair regardless of every consequence, 
 at once exposed the mistake, and declared 
 him " to be an egregious dissembler, and 
 a great liar." 
 
 Mr. Blair being in London during the 
 time of King Charles's trial, his majesty 
 expressed a strong desire to converse with 
 him, which privilege was denied. Nothing 
 could ever reconcile this spirited man to 
 the dominion of the Proteftor. He saw 
 with indignation the arts by which this 
 usurper crept into power, and dreaded the 
 consequences to which they might then 
 lead. He zealously opposed sending a de- 
 putation from the church to solicit his fa- 
 vour. He was aware of Sharp's disposition 
 to betray the trust committed to him, and 
 had early information that he had done so. 
 Pie afterwards shewed himself regardless of 
 
14 
 
 the power of a Primate, whom he could not 
 respeft. The vindiftive spirit of the Arch- 
 bishop soon drove him from St. Andrews, 
 and he ended a Hfe of uncommon useful- 
 ness and aftivity, in the parish of Aberdour, 
 in the seventy-third year of his age. 
 
 This distinguished clergyman, whose cha- 
 racter seems entitled to the notice that has 
 been taken of it, left behind him two sons, 
 David and Hugh. David was minister of 
 the Old Church in Edinburgh, and father 
 of Mr. Robert Blair, minister at Athelstone- 
 ford, and of Mr. Archibald Blair, minister at 
 Garvald, both in East Lothian. The for- 
 mer of these was author of the beautiful 
 poem entitled *^ The Grave," and father of 
 Robert Blair, Esq. advocate, for many years 
 his majesty's solicitor-general for Scotland, 
 whose high professional abilities have long 
 done honour to his country. The latter was 
 father to Dr. Robert Blair, Professor of prac- 
 tical astronomy in the university of Edin- 
 burgh, whose learning and ingenuity have 
 been universally acknowledged. 
 
15 
 
 From Hugh, the younger son of Robert 
 sprung John, who was a respedable mer- 
 chant, and one of the magistrates of Edin- 
 burgh. As his fortune suffered considerably 
 from being engaged in the South Sea scheme, 
 he obtained an office in the excise. He 
 married Martha Ogston, and the first child 
 of this marriage was the celebrated Hugh 
 Blair, the subjed: of the present memoir, 
 who was born on the 7th of April, 171 8. 
 
 Though the fortune of Mr. John Blair 
 had suffered, yet it was not so much im- 
 paired as to prevent him from giving his 
 son a liberal education. He had early per- 
 ceived in him marks of latent genius, and 
 he resolved to bestow that polish upon the 
 gem, which would in the end display its 
 value. The industry of the young man was 
 sharpened by a sense of his situation. He 
 soon saw, that in proportion to the exertions 
 at the beginning, would be his success du- 
 ring the career of life. 
 
 After going through the usual coarse at 
 the High School, he became a student at 
 
16 
 
 the university of Edinburgh in Odlobcr 
 ^1730. Though beloved by the boys with 
 whom he was educated, yet from the feeble- 
 ness of his constitution, he was not able to 
 partake much in their sports. He prefer- 
 red amusing himself at his solitary walks, 
 with repeating the poems of others, and 
 sometimes attempting to make poems of his 
 own. 
 
 When he became a student at the uni- 
 versity, his constitution grew more vigo- 
 rous, and he could pursue both the amuse- 
 ments and the studies that belonged to his 
 time of hfe. He was taught humanity 
 or philology under Professor Adam Watt, 
 Greek under Professor Colin Drummond, 
 and logic under Professor John Stevenson. 
 In all his classes he attracted attention, but 
 in the logic class he was particularly dis- 
 tinguished. While attending this class, he 
 composed an essay, n^p/ t« kuxh that is, upon 
 the Beautiful, in which the bent of his 
 genius first displayed itself both to him- 
 self and to others. With a power of discri- 
 
17 
 
 mination, and a cor redness of feeling, be- 
 yond what could have been expeded from 
 a youth of but sixteen years of age, he mark- 
 ed the general characters of beauty as residing 
 in the different objedts of taste. 
 
 The merit of this essay was evinced by 
 the most flattering marks of .the professor's 
 approbation. He ordered it to be read pub- 
 licly at the end of the session during which 
 it was composed, and he considered it as a 
 performance that did credit to himself, as 
 well as to his pupil. 
 
 In the year 1739, when the course of Mr. 
 Blair's academical studies was nearly finish- 
 ed, he published a thesis, " De fundamen- 
 tis et obligatione Legis NaturceS' This he 
 did with a view to become entitled to the 
 degree of master of arts. The discussion, 
 though short, as was required, is able. It 
 contains the substance of what is said upon 
 that important subjedt by ancient and mo- 
 dern philosophers, and exposes the sullen 
 system of Hobbes, as inconsistent not only 
 with the happiness, but even with the ex- 
 
18 
 
 istence of society. The language also is 
 spirited and elegant. A few errors may 
 perhaps be detected in it by those who have 
 studied the Latin language critically, but 
 they will escape the notice even of respect- 
 able proficients. In the moral dodrine of 
 this essay may be seen the first dawnings of 
 that virtuous sensibility in its author, by 
 which the world was afterwards to profit in 
 his sermons. 
 
 After spending eleven years at the univer- 
 sity, in the study of literature, philosophy, 
 and divinity, Mr. Blair was licensed to preach 
 the Gospel by the presbytery of Edinburgh 
 on the 2ist of Oftober, 1741. His first 
 appearances in the pulpit justified the ex- 
 pedlations which his friends had formed of 
 him. His dodtrines were sound and prac- 
 tical, and his language, though somewhat 
 flowery, presented none of that false glare, 
 which while it pleases a vulgar, always of- 
 fends a judicious eye. Its early luxuriance 
 soon corrected itself, and was understood by 
 his friends to announce die value of the crop. 
 
19 
 
 when the fruits of his genius should be ma- 
 tured by time. 
 
 The fame of the young preacher was not 
 confined to the city within which his ser- 
 mons were generally delivered. One ser- 
 mon of his, in the West Church, was parti- 
 cularly noticed. It arrested the attention 
 of a very numerous congregation, and spoke 
 to the feelings of many hearers, whose ob- 
 jects of pursuit, and whose portions of un- 
 derstanding, were extremely different. The 
 form of religious truth assumed its prero- 
 gative; it inflamed the ardour of the pious, 
 and settled the doubts of the wavering. 
 
 The Earl of Leven, hearing of the merit 
 of this sermon, was desirous to reward the 
 preacher by procuring him a presentation to 
 the church of Colessie in Fifeshire^ which 
 was vacant at that time. Upon the 23d of 
 September 1742, accordingly, Mr. Blair 
 was ordained minister of Colessie, in the 
 presbytery of Cupar. There he continued 
 nearly ten months; when those talents which 
 might have languished in the obscurity of a 
 
20 
 
 country parish, were brought into a sphere, 
 in which they became conspicuous, and ex- 
 tensively useful. 
 
 In consequence of a vacancy in the Ca- 
 nongate of Edinburgh, his friends were en- 
 abled to restore him ,to the neighbourhood 
 of his native city. Here he was admitted 
 second minister upon the 14th of July, 1743. 
 In order to accomplish this settlement, no 
 small efforts were required, as the second 
 charge of the Canongate is supplied by po- 
 pular elecflion, and his competitor, Mr. Ro- 
 bert Walker, then in high estimation as a 
 preacher, was powerfully supported in the 
 canvass. By the moft active exertions, how- 
 ever, out of two hundred and eighteen votes, 
 Mr. Blair obtained one hundred and thirty- 
 six. During the eleven years that he conti- 
 nued minister of the Canongate, his repu- 
 tation as a preacher was continually grow- 
 ing. The gay and the serious, the opulent 
 and the needy, the learned and the illite- 
 rate, vied with each other in eagerness to 
 profit by those instruftions, which were 
 
21 
 
 alike useful, and which the art of the preach- 
 er rendered alike agreeable to them all. By 
 the elegance of his compositions, the taste 
 of the critic was gratified, and by their 
 piety, the faith of the Christian was con- 
 firmed. He made the precepts of rehgion 
 to reach the heart by a channel, in which 
 their course was not to be resisted. When 
 such sentiments gained admission by his 
 eloquence into breasts, in which they were 
 strangers, they assumed their native autho- 
 rity: and they made even the ungodly feel 
 and confess their influence. 
 
 It was not, however, to be supposed, that 
 such professional merit as Mr. Blair's could 
 stop at any point in the line of his prefer- 
 ment but the highest. In the immediate 
 neighbourhood of the mxCtropolis his pre- 
 tensions could not lie concealed. He was 
 translated from the Canongate to that church 
 in the citj of Edinburgh which is called 
 Lady Tester's, on the i ith of Ocflober, 1754, 
 and from thence to the High Church, on 
 the 15th of June, 1758. 
 
22 
 
 When a Scottish clergyman reaches the 
 station last mentioned, the career of his 
 professional ambition is understood to be 
 over. It is then his province to preach be- 
 fore the judges of the land, and to instruft 
 the most learned and respedtable audience 
 which his country can present. Mr. Blair's 
 talents for pulpit eloquence could now dis- 
 play themselves to advantage. Every thing 
 tended to fire that laudable ambition, which 
 even in him gave confidence to modesty, 
 and which led him on to that eminence 
 which he so justly deserved. 
 
 The terms of the Atl ot Council, upon 
 which he was translated by the Presbytery 
 of Edinburgh to the High Church, are ho- 
 nourable to the presentee. It is recorded, 
 that this measure was adopted, " because 
 the Council had it fully ascertained, that 
 his translation would be highly acceptable 
 to persons of the most distinguished cha- 
 racfler and eminent rank in this country, 
 who had their seats in said church." Had 
 he been of a political and an ambitious ois- 
 
2-3 
 
 position, we should have given him credit 
 for his sagacity, and for his skill in in- 
 trigue. His innate modesty wc should have 
 construed into refined address, and have ap- 
 plauded that wisdom, which made him for- 
 bear to solicit the attention of the world, 
 till he could for certain command its re- 
 sped:. Few men, however, were ever less 
 disposed to force themselves upon the no- 
 tice of the public. When its honours came 
 upon him, he felt their value; but, had these 
 been withheld, a mind happily superior to 
 jealousy and arrogance would have armed 
 him against the pain of discontent. His 
 friends were accordingly more adivc than 
 himself in devising plans for bringing him 
 into notice. 
 
 During the four years that Mr. Blair was 
 minister of Lady Yester's, several events 
 occurred in his life too important to be 
 omitted. Though he was disposed by his 
 natural temper, and even obliged by the nar- 
 rowness of his circumstances, to shun the 
 company of his superiors in fortune, yet 
 
24. 
 
 his abilities were known and respeded by 
 them all. His fame as a preacher was by 
 this time established, but his talents in the 
 way of critical learning were known only 
 to his personal friends. Fortunately for li- 
 terature in those times, no illiberal jealousy 
 disgraced its votaries. No literary combi- 
 nations then existed in this country, nor 
 was the critic's candour ever seen to be in- 
 fluenced by the principles of his party ei- 
 ther in science or politics. That honest 
 emulation which prompted each to excel, 
 led him to disdain to injure the man whom 
 in his own department he could not eclipse, 
 and to feel more satisfaction in sharing lite- 
 rary honours with a deserving rival, than in 
 seizing them with a selfish avidity. 
 
 The stock of literature which then adorn- 
 ed the country, was the pride of the different 
 scholars who coUeded it, and the mutual 
 generosity of their sentiments gave a lustre 
 to their literary acquisitions, which nothing 
 else could impart. To the manly liberality 
 of Dr. Blair's intimate and learned friends. 
 
25 
 
 the world stands indebted for his services 
 as a scholar. By presenting attractions of 
 which he was hardly aware, they drew him 
 from the retirement to which he seemed at- 
 tached; and they led him almost involun- 
 tarily to assume a place in the republic of 
 letters, suited to that merit of which he 
 seemed unconscious. 
 
 In spite of every attempt upon his part 
 to decline literary honours, they were heap- 
 ed upon him with profusion. In June 1757 
 the university of St. Andrews showed its 
 discernment, by presenting him with the 
 degree of Doctor in Divmity; and as this 
 academical honour was then hardly known 
 in Scotland, it was the more creditable for 
 those who attained it. The town-council 
 of Edinburgh, in August 1760, instituted 
 in the university there a Professorship of 
 Rhetoric, to which they elected and appoint- 
 ed Dr. Blair. The merit of the presentee, 
 and his fitness for the office, had been pro- 
 ved by a set of ledures which he delivered 
 the preceding winter. In April 1762 his 
 4 
 
26 
 
 majesty was graciously pleased to give an 
 early proof of that royal munificence, with 
 which he has always distinguished the uni- 
 versity of Edinburgh, by ereding and endow- 
 ing a Professorship of Rhetoric and Belles 
 Lettres, and appointing Dr. Blair professor, 
 with a salary of £, 70. 
 
 The manner in which the learned Docftor 
 acquired his different offices, it should seem 
 was in the highest degree flattering to him- 
 self. Blessed with a mind superior to those 
 artifices, by which the undeserving often at- 
 tain eminence, personal merit alone procu- 
 red him the best field for the display of his 
 powers. The most learned audience of this 
 country were the weekly judges of his pul- 
 pit eloquence, in which any thing spurious 
 would have been detedled and condemned. 
 From a professor holding a new establish- 
 ment in an university which had much re- 
 putation to boast of, no ordinary perform- 
 ances were expeded ; and high was the 
 responsibility imposed upon that learned 
 man, to whom the task of forming the taste 
 
27 
 
 of the rising generation was thus formally 
 consiened. The excellencies and the de- 
 feds of his character might then become 
 alike conspicuous, and the public could judge 
 unerringly with what justice it had loaded 
 him with its honours. 
 
 Let us examine its discernment, by view- 
 ing Dr. Blair in three distinct charaders ; 
 as a Critic y as a Preacher, and as a Man, 
 
 In the year 1755, the expedations of the 
 public, from the abilities of a certain set of 
 literary men, were about to be realised. Mr. 
 Wedderburn, afterwards Earl of Rosslyn, 
 Dr. Robertson, Dr. Smith, and Dr. Blair, 
 had given room even to ordinary observers to 
 prognosticate their future eminence in their 
 respedive lines. With a generous view 
 to improve literature in Scotland, where, 
 though it had begun to dawn, it was but 
 little advanced, those learned friends had 
 a principal hand in publishing a periodical 
 work, entitled, ''The Edinburgh Review," 
 
28 
 
 Of this paper two numbers only appeared, 
 the first at the commencement of the year 
 above mentioned, and the last six months 
 after. In the first of these, an ingenious 
 piece of criticism appears upon Johnson's 
 Didlionary, in which it is said that the 
 Earl of Rosslyn and Dr. Smith were jointly 
 concerned. Some of the admirers of John- 
 son have complained, that the reviewers 
 have hardly done justice to his merit, and 
 that they have held him forth as an indus- 
 trious rather than as an acute philologist. 
 This charge against them does not seem 
 well founded. Though the author's plan is 
 not deemed unexceptionable, yet, in sug- 
 gesting improvements upon it, no unbe- 
 coming asperity of language is employed 
 by his critics. Far from wishing to detrad: 
 from the merit of the work, they wish to 
 add to that w^hich they allow it to possess. 
 While they regret that sufficient care had 
 not been taken to distinguish words appa- 
 rently synonymous, they allow the high utir 
 
29 
 
 lity of the Diftionary, and recommend it to 
 be used by all those who are desirous to cor- 
 red: and to improve their language. 
 
 In order to make their ideas more intel- 
 ligible, those ingenious critics have stated 
 at full length Dr. Johnson's observations 
 upon the conjundion But^ and the sub- 
 stantive Humour^ and have afterwards given 
 a specimen of their own grammatical dis- 
 cernment, by first fixing the radical power 
 of each of the terms, and then marking how 
 all the secondary meanings spring from the 
 radical. Their logical deductions, as may 
 be expected, are equally subtle and cor- 
 reft; but such could not be formed quick- 
 ly even by superior minds, nor applied to 
 all the words in the English language du- 
 ring the life of a single man. Comparing 
 the merit of Dr. Johnson's work with the 
 time in which it was executed, they applaud 
 the author's industry, and they state strongly 
 his claim to public approbation. 
 
 The same liberal spirit does not appear to 
 have belonged to all the members of thi^^ 
 
36 
 
 literary association. Some of them seem to 
 assume the privilege of regulating the pub- 
 lic taste, and exercise that privilege w^ith 
 a didatorial rigour, which could never im- 
 prove it. Forgetting the narrowness of the 
 country in which they wrote, and the dis- 
 gust to be expecfled under reproofs some- 
 times groundless and often too severe, they 
 discouraged those literary efforts which they 
 professed to foster. Ignorant of that great 
 principle in the art of teaching, that the 
 pupil should never be allowed to despise 
 himself, they either checked the ardour of 
 young authors, or roused their indignation. 
 
 This severity of criticism was chiefly ex- 
 ercised upon a History of Crcesus, King of 
 Lydia ; upon Harvey's Theron and Aspa- 
 sio ; and upon Sermons by Mr. Boston at 
 Oxnam, Mr. Ebenezer Erskine at Stirling, 
 and Mr. Johnston at Moffat. All these au- 
 thors, except the last, either despised the 
 rude attack, or bore it with patience. Mr. 
 Johnston, however, winced under a sense 
 
SI 
 
 of its injustice, and in a pamphlet entitled, 
 ^' A View of the Edinburgh Review, point- 
 ing out the spirit and tendency of that Pa- 
 per," convinced many that the biter had been 
 biting himself: — 
 
 Fragili qiderens illidere dcntem, 
 Offendit solido. 
 
 In the discharge of the duties of this 
 conjundl undertaking, it fell upon Dr. Blair 
 to review Dr. Hutcheson's ^* System of Mo- 
 ral Philosophy.'' This accident appears to 
 have been alike fortunate for the author 
 and his critic. The former presented a sub- 
 jedt interesting in itself, and ably canvas- 
 sed, while the latter possessed talents ade- 
 quate to the task assigned him, which would 
 catch every latent beauty and defedt, and 
 scrupulously measure the extent of each. 
 
 In the review given by Dr. Blair of this 
 interesting work, the reader's attention is 
 not withdrawn from its proper objec5l. No 
 vague and tedious dissertation is presented. 
 
by which the critic can mean nothing but 
 to set off himself. He supposes his reader 
 unacquainted with the book, and himself 
 called upon to give him a view of its con- 
 tents. By no dogmatical decision does he 
 pretend to rob him of the privilege of judg- 
 ing for himself; and while with a becoming 
 spirit he declares his own opinions, he is 
 superior to the petulance of wishing to ob- 
 trude them upon others. 
 
 From perusing this criticism, according- 
 ly, a perfect notion may be formed of its 
 subjedl. As the difference between Dr. Hut- 
 cheson*s system, and the systems of those 
 who found moral approbation upon reason, 
 upon sympathy, upon truth, and upon self- 
 love, is clear, no time is spent in stating it. 
 The apparent and the real similarity between 
 Dr. Hutcheson's and Lord Shaftsbury*s sys- 
 tems, however, require investigation, and in 
 marking the difference, the critic displays 
 his acuteness. Though benevolence is the 
 leading principle in each, yet that in the 
 noble author's is found less disinterested 
 
33 
 
 than in the other, and sentiments, seemingly 
 generous in the former, are shown to be ul- 
 timately selfish. 
 
 While Dr. Blair does all justice, on the 
 one hand, to the merits of the system he is 
 examining, he tails not, on the other, to 
 point out its defeds. Though gentle, he 
 is impartial. He exposes the inaccuracy 
 of confounding actions that arise from a 
 sense of duty, with those arising from a sim- 
 ple approbation of the moral sense. Many 
 admirers, for instance, of the benevolent 
 heroism of the Decit, who sacrificed their 
 lives for the sake of their country, feel no 
 inclination to imitate their condudl from a 
 sense of duty. The vsystem of Dr. Hut- 
 cheson, with all its excellence, is regarded as 
 somewhat ideal, and as calculated to please 
 in theory, rather than to assist in pradice. 
 Virtue is held forth in it as an objedt which 
 we must admire and approve, rather than 
 as a law for regulating our condudl. Its 
 tendency seems to be, to make virtuous men 
 5 
 
..34 
 
 better, not to teach the bulk of mankind 
 the first principles of duty. 
 
 Soon after Dr. Blair was translated to 
 the High Church, he had an opportunity 
 of displaying his critical powers in a Dis- 
 sertation upon the Poems of Ossian. Frag- 
 ments of Gaelic poetry had been commu- 
 nicated to Mr. Home, the author of " Dou- 
 glas,'' by Mr. James Macpherson, then a 
 student in divinity from the Highlands. 
 The merits of those fragments surprised 
 many of the literari of Edinburgh. Anxious 
 to add to their number, and to allow none 
 of the remains of Gaelic literature to pe- 
 rish, they encouraged a subscription for 
 enabling Mr. Macpherson to traverse the 
 Highlands in quest of them. All that he 
 coUeded he translated and published. In 
 spite of the acknowledged taste and judg- 
 ment of the admirers of these poems, their 
 merit and their authenticity were soon ques- 
 tioned ; and many Scottish critics found 
 themselves called upon to defend points in 
 
35 
 
 which they supposed the honour of theii 
 country to be concerned. 
 
 In this controversy, Dr. Blair took an 
 early and a conspicuous part. He labour^ 
 ed not only to evince the beauty of the 
 poems themselves, but to remove the im- 
 putation of their being literary forgeries. 
 Of those, however, who attended to the sub- 
 ject, a greater number was disposed to agree 
 with him as to the excellence of these com- 
 positions, than as to their authenticity. 
 
 With regard to what has been urged a- 
 gainst these poems, the bounds which must 
 be observed in a work of this kind, do not 
 permit us to weigh the objedlions in a man- 
 ner that might enable us to estimate their 
 full force. Those, who almost deny that 
 Ossian has merit of any kind, give a me- 
 lancholy proof of incapacity to judge. As 
 certainly as the principle of taste exists in 
 the mind of man, the poems of Ossian must 
 often command the admiration of those 
 who possess it. Though the limited in- 
 formation of the bard, in rude times, gave 
 
36 
 
 him little variety in the subjects of his fi-^ 
 gures, yet this circumstance did not blunt 
 the sensibility of his heart. The little he 
 saw, he saw corredly ; and he was feelingly 
 alive to every virtuous and heroic impres- 
 sion. Though squeamish judges magnify 
 trifles, and often censure without cause, yet 
 in those poems there are splendid beauties, 
 which the virulence of criticism dares not 
 to attack. 
 
 In proof of what is now said, two only 
 of many striking passages shall be produ- 
 ced. Both are taken from the poem enti- 
 tled Latbmo?!; and the first will admit of 
 a comparison with a similar passage in 
 Homer. In the passages from both poets, 
 high parental affedion is the foundation of 
 the beauty, and both may have suffered a- 
 like from being translated. The last in- 
 terview between Hedtor and Andromache, 
 near the end of the Sixth Book of the 
 I/iad, is wrought up with a degree of art, 
 that does honour even to the genius of 
 Homer. The armed w^arrior is held forth 
 
37 
 
 as taking his child into his bosonfi, and 
 praying, in behalf of him, in the following 
 emphatic words : — 
 
 ZiC, uK\oi re fleoi, Jon J^ )t»i t'ovSi yivia-iiti 
 ""aSt &^^^^ r' ij-xSov, ig 'IA-i'd i<pi kvutrmV 
 *E)c !r«\f/ttit iviovTtt'— — — lAlAA. z, 476. 
 
 ^' O Jupiter, and you other Gods ! grant 
 that this son of mine may become, as I am, 
 distinguished among the Trojans; that he 
 may be alike powerful in strength ; and 
 that he may rule over Ilium with an irre- 
 sistible sway : And may some person here- 
 after say of him when returning from battle. 
 This man, indeed, is much braver than his 
 father.'* 
 
 When the aged warrior Morni anxiously 
 anticipates the fame of his son in that art, 
 in which he had been distinguished himself, 
 he uses the folio v/ing words: — '^ I have a 
 son, O Fingal ! Plis soul has delighted in 
 Morni's deeds j but hia sword has not been 
 
38 
 
 lifted up against a foe, neither has his fame 
 begun. I come with him to war, to direct 
 his arm in fight. His renown will be a 
 light to my soul in the dark hour of my 
 departure. O that the name of Morni were 
 forgotten among the people ! that the heroes 
 would only say. Behold the Father 
 OF Gaul.'* 
 
 Here the Celtic Bard not only stands a 
 comparison with the Grecian, when their 
 subjedls are the same, but carries off the 
 palm. There is not in the prayer of Hec- 
 tor, the same high generosity as in that of 
 Morni. Glowing as the Trojan warrior's 
 attachment is, he does not forget himself; 
 but he first prays, that his son may be his 
 equal in eminence among the Trojans, and 
 then only his superior in military renown. 
 The ardour of Mox-ni's parental afiedion, 
 again, leads him to renounce every thing 
 personal. His own lustre in arms he is 
 wilUng to sacrifice to the fame of his son. 
 Between his love to him, and his love to 
 
39 
 
 military glory, there is a struggle, in which 
 the former decidedly prevails. He prays, 
 that his own exploits may be buried in obli- 
 vion, upon the single condition, to which 
 his high mind could submit; and, with ex- 
 quisite delicacy, wishes to live in the re- 
 membrance of posterity, only as the father 
 of Gaul. 
 
 This young hero soon shews himself wor- 
 thy of such a father, when he and Ossian, 
 who speaks in the following passage, ap- 
 proached the sleeping foe: — *' We came to 
 the bank of the stream, and saw the sleep- 
 ing host. Their fires were decayed on the 
 plain : the lonely steps of their scouts were 
 distant far. I stretched my spear before 
 me, to support my steps over the stream. 
 But Gaul took my hand, and spoke the 
 words of the brave. Shall the son of Fin- 
 gal rush on the sleeping foe ? Shall he come 
 like a blast by night, when it overturns the 
 young trees in secret ? Fingal did not thus 
 receive his fame, nor dwells renovv'n on the 
 grey hairs of Morni for aftions like these. 
 
40 
 
 Strike, Ossian, strike the shield, and let their 
 thousands rise ! Let them meet Gaul in his 
 first battle, that he may try the strength 
 of his arm.'* A sentiment of more digni- 
 fied magnanimity is not to be met with in 
 any poet. If the maxims of modern war- 
 fare were repugnant to this, they would be 
 at variance with the finest feelings of the 
 human heart. The classics of Greece and 
 of Rome present nothing more noble; and 
 were we to search those classics for a pas- 
 sage to contrast with that now quoted, we 
 might perhaps search in vain. 
 
 V/hatever doubts arose formerly, either 
 as to the authenticity, or the beauty, of the 
 Poems of Ossian, none were ever heard of 
 as to the merit, of the Dissertation, in which 
 both were vindicated. 
 
 The talents of its author were admired 
 even by those, whom they did not con- 
 vince. Supposing the value of the Poems 
 to have been overrated, yet the canon by 
 which that value was tried, was scrupu- 
 lously correal. The critic of Ossian did not 
 
41 
 
 gaze upon the beauties of his author with 
 senseless admiration, '' ut pue?^i Jimoms 
 avem," but marked the circumstance which 
 gave existence to each. He discovered 
 equal sensibility to the magnanimity of the 
 hero, and to the tenderness of the parent. 
 He traced the line of poetic description 
 with an accuracy before unexampled, and 
 made it rest on the judicious seledbon of a 
 few of the charadteristic circumstances in 
 the objea; described. The eccentric play of 
 Ossian's genius was brought to that genuine 
 standard, to which every poet in every age 
 must submit; and those varied beauties, 
 which of old struck the untutored taste of 
 the Northern tribes, were referred to certain 
 great principles in human nature, which 
 time cannot change. 
 
 Bold as the attempt was, it soon appear- 
 ed to those, on whom nature has confer- 
 red a quick sensibility to beauty, that the 
 powers of the critic were completely equal 
 to it. By means of the ingenuity displayed 
 in an Essay, which combined the subtlety 
 6 
 
42 
 
 of Aristotle with the elegance of Longinus, 
 a new aera was established in literature. 
 From an able development of the laws of 
 one species of poetry, inferences were de- 
 duced, which applied, in a certain degree, 
 to every other. Polite literature v/as found 
 entitled to take its place among the sci- 
 ences. In the decisions of taste, whether 
 gratified or otherwise, one principle was 
 found uniformly to operate. As certainly 
 as beauty exists, it was proved, that it has 
 its own laws, and that the capriciousness, 
 falsely ascribed to taste, arises from nothing 
 but an hasty, and of course an illegitimate 
 induftion, by those who canvass its sub- 
 jed:s. 
 
 The fame of this elegant and ingenious 
 criticism was not confined to the country 
 that gave birth to its author. In judging 
 of the ability of the critic, the public did 
 not wait to ascertain either the authenticity 
 of his subjed, or the extent of its merit. 
 Men of taste were pleased with the disco- 
 very of a fixed principle for regulating their 
 
43 
 
 decisions, in whatever way it had been 
 made. They deemed it no small accession 
 to the stores of literature, and found them- 
 selves furnished with a new standard, to 
 which the produdlions of poetical genius 
 might be safely referred. 
 
 For the space of eighteen years after Dr. 
 Blair began to read Ledures upon Rheto- 
 toric and Belles Lettres, he found full room 
 for the exercise of his powers. His repu- 
 tation as a preacher was then so high, that 
 no ordinary exertion was sufficient to support 
 it. Of this he seems to have been aware. 
 In no instance was he ever disposed to take 
 credit for past acquirements, but shewed 
 himself unwilling to forego that approbation, 
 which the public had bestowed liberally, and 
 of which he felt the value. In discharging 
 the duties both of a Clergyman and of a Pro- 
 fessor, he exhibited a meritorious zeal; and 
 from his uncommon industry, the labours 
 of his pulpit never interfered with those of 
 his academical chair. 
 
44 
 
 In coUecTbing materials for his Ledures, 
 he found a field before him that was ex- 
 tensive, and, in this country, almost un- 
 trodden. Though British genius had dis^ 
 played itself in different departments of li- 
 terature, yet the principles of taste were 
 not so correctly ascertained, as to form a 
 rule forjudging of its exertions. Dr. Smith 
 was the first person who read Lecftures in 
 Edinburgh upon Rhetoric ; and in this 
 branch of science shewed the same origi- 
 nal talents that distinguished him in others. 
 When he went to Glasgow as Professor 
 of Logic, Lectures upon the same subjed: 
 were read by Dr. Watson, who afterwards 
 became Professor of that Science at St. 
 Andrews. Lord Kames published his Ele- 
 ments of Criticism after Dr. Blair had 
 begun to read Ledures privately, and be- 
 fore his Majesty eredted and endowed his 
 estabhshment in the University of Edin- 
 burgh. 
 
 After reading his course of Lectures in 
 the University above twenty years, Dr, Blair 
 
45 
 
 found it proper to publish them in 1783. 
 He tells us in his preface, that their publi- 
 cation then was not altogether a matter of 
 choice. Imperfed: copies, in manuscript, 
 had been exposed to sale, and from them 
 quotations had appeared in the Biographia 
 Brittannica. It became necessary, accord- 
 ingly, that the Ledtures should proceed 
 from his own hand, rather than come into 
 public view under some very defedive and 
 erroneous form. 
 
 It must be apparent to every attentive 
 reader, that Dr. Blair was much more anxious 
 to compose Ledlures that might become 
 distinguished for their utility, than for their 
 depth. His object was to initiate youth 
 into a study, w^ith which the country at 
 large was but little acquainted. His pu- 
 pils had undergone no preparatory disci- 
 pline in the science, to which they applied 
 themselves. Subtle discussions from their 
 teacher would have been, in a certain de- 
 gree, misapplied, and the stability of the 
 
46 
 
 stru(5lure might l^ave been impaired, had the 
 foundation not been securely laid. 
 
 As the author of those Ledlures did not 
 pique himself upon their depth, so neither 
 did he boast of their originality. Upon 
 every subject treated of, he tells us that he 
 had thought for himself, but that he avail- 
 ed himself occasionally of the ideas of 
 others. He felt it his duty to convey to 
 his pupils all the knowledge that could im- 
 prove them. By borrowmg from others, he 
 understood, that he not only enlarged the 
 mass, but gave a value to the parts of it, of 
 which they might otherwise have been des- 
 titute. 
 
 But whatever reason Dr. Blair might see 
 to accommodate his Led:ures to the capaci- 
 ty of young men, who were novices in his 
 science, it has been urged by some, that 
 he carried his desire of doing so too far. 
 No great effort, they tell us, is requisite to 
 apprehend principles legitimately formed, 
 and clearly stated. If a teacher establish 
 no principles, he trifles with those whom 
 
4r 
 
 he pretends to instrudt. He refuses to sa- 
 tisfy the appetite which he raises, and ge- 
 nius must languish for want of its proper 
 food. Though superfijial thinkers decry 
 metaphysical discussion, because they dread 
 its effects, yet nothing is so bad as the total 
 want of it. It exposes the falsehood of 
 those theories which exist in the imagina- 
 tion of the petulant, and it evolves the 
 truth, by a nice discrimination of facSts, 
 which pretenders in science have neither dis- 
 cernment nor industry to colled:. 
 
 With all the merit which Dr. Blair's Lec- 
 tures possess, it must be allowed, that the 
 objection mentioned is in some degree ap- 
 plicable to them. By being too modest, or 
 too timid, he rarely has the boldness to 
 hazard a general remark. What many have 
 said, and almost all believe, he states with 
 confidence; and, by an unfortunate distrust 
 of his own powers, he is apt to excite doubts 
 in others, by betraying them in himself. 
 He, who makes his pupils exercise their own 
 talents, does them a real service ; and it i^ 
 
48 
 
 better, perhaps, to establish principles that 
 are questionable, than to establish none. 
 
 In resped to the vigour and the correct- 
 ness of the principle of taste. Dr. Blair had* 
 few rivals, and no superiors. In him this 
 power was feelingly alive to the slightest 
 impulse, and it separated the spurious from 
 the genuine with unerring delicacy. Lord 
 Karnes, who had studied the subjed: of 
 Belles Lettres before the Dodtor was known 
 to have done so, and who was the first in 
 this country that attempted to reduce it to 
 a system, does not catch beauties and de- 
 fers with the same nice apprehension. In 
 point of originality, at the same time, and 
 of that inventive power, which traces and 
 establishes principles in the science, his 
 Lordship is much superior. Some of his 
 theories may perhaps be false, and others 
 whimsical ; but in all of them there is inge- 
 nuity, and in many of them much truth. 
 Whatever advantage the former critic had 
 in the delicate precision of his taste, the 
 latter seems to have possessed in the force 
 
49 
 
 of his genius. By every scientific inquirer, 
 accordingly, the Elements of Criticism must 
 be regarded as a valuable mine, that v^ill not 
 soon be exhausted. 
 
 After the publication of Lord Karnes's 
 Elements of Criticism, and before that of 
 Dr. Blair's Ledlures, Dr. Campbell of Aber- 
 deen produced his Philosophy of Rhetoric. 
 This work, consisting of a number of essays, 
 which may be viewed either separately, or 
 as forming one whole, is less systematic than 
 those that went before it. Its author, with 
 that modesty which is often the attendant 
 of genius, undertakes less than he shews 
 himself able to do. It is clear, at the same 
 time, that he had read much, and thought 
 deeply, upon his subjed:, and that his mind, 
 naturally acute and sagacious, throws light 
 upon any thing to which he chose to di- 
 redl it. Along with delicate feeling, he 
 discovers high metaphysical power ; and 
 his ingenious and original disquisitions will 
 probably rise in estimation, as men become 
 more able to follow them. 
 
 7 
 
50 
 
 In the first part of Dr. Blair's Ledtures, 
 where he analyses the power of taste, and 
 states the different sources of its pleasures, 
 we meet with many sound and interesting 
 observations. While handling such sub- 
 jed:s, he derived advantages from nature, 
 which she had denied to many. With 
 every avenue to knowledge possessed by 
 others, in viewing the different species of 
 beauty, and marking their effedls upon 
 those around him, he enjoyed a privilege 
 peculiar to himself. He had only to look 
 into his own mind, in order to catch the 
 general law, which operates upon that of 
 others, and could thus delineate the power, 
 so as to suit the diversities in which man- 
 kind exhibit it. While he denies that it is 
 an arbitrary principle, to which no criterion 
 is applicable, he talks of no appeal to the 
 judgment of one, or a few, for ascertaining 
 beauty in the works of nature and of art. 
 The genuine taste of the human species is 
 made to rest on what, in all ages and coun- 
 tries, has given it the highest and the most 
 
61 
 
 extensive delight. In matters of feeling, as 
 well as of intelled:, established laws are 
 said to prevail, and the difference between 
 beauty and deformity to be, in fad, as im- 
 mutable, as that between truth and false- 
 hood. 
 
 The same difference is made to exist be- 
 tween the sublime and the beautiful, by Dr. 
 Blair, as by other writers on the subjed:. 
 To the term sublimity two meanings are 
 afHxed; that is, it denotes both the emo- 
 tion excited in the mind, and the quality 
 in the objed that excites it. Beauty, again, 
 is confined to the objecft, without any re- 
 gard to the emotion. The feelings raised 
 by each, seem to be too nearly a-kin to be 
 separated, as they generally are. If an ob- 
 jedt, in itself beautiful, be rendered great, 
 it becomes sublime. Agreeableness is the 
 genus, of which beauty and sublimity are 
 the species; and, though the former may 
 exist by itself, yet, where there is the least 
 deformity, the latter is extinguished. Dr. 
 Blair mentions several theories, which have 
 
52 
 
 been given by different authors, as to the 
 origin of those emotions styled sublime. 
 He states that of Mr. Burke, with the re- 
 spedl due to the force and originality of his 
 genius. Though he allows it to be inge- 
 nious, yet he doubts if it is solid ; while, at 
 the same time, he proposes nothing, with 
 any- confidence, to be substituted in its 
 place. 
 
 In the second part of Dr. Blair*s Lec- 
 tures, which treats of the structure of lan- 
 guage, his timidity, as a philosophical in- 
 quirer, is more apparent than any where. 
 Of the importance and the difficulty of the 
 subjed:, he seems to have been completely 
 aware. Few authors, he tells us, have 
 treated this science, in which a deep and 
 refined logic is employed, with the accu- 
 racy it deserves. He regrets, that superfi- 
 cial thinkers slight it, as belonging to those 
 rudiments of knowledge, which were incul- 
 cated upon us in our earliest youth ; and 
 he attributes to the ignorance of it, many 
 
ss 
 
 of those fundamental defefts which appear 
 
 in writing. 
 
 From these preUminary observations, it 
 was to have been expecfted, that, in estabhsh- 
 ing a theory of speech, former errors would 
 have been exploded, and the utmost accura- 
 cy introduced. Every attempt, however, to 
 expose and to amend what is faulty, is de- 
 clined. The common division of speech 
 into eight parts, is condemned as illogical, 
 which it undoubtedly is. We are told, at 
 the same time, that, as the old terms are 
 those to which our ears have been most 
 familiarised, and as an exadl logical division 
 is of no great consequence to the present pur- 
 pose, it is better to make use of those known 
 terms than of any other. 
 
 When a system, seen to be erroneous, is 
 voluntarily embraced, nothing luminous is 
 to be expected. The slightest error at the 
 outest must affed: every step in the pro- 
 gress ; and though, in certain cases, the 
 conclusions be not the same with those of 
 
54 
 
 former inquirers, they must be alike unpro- 
 fitable. 
 
 The third part of Dr. Blair's Leilures, 
 which relates to style, is by much the most 
 useful of the whole work. In this, the au- 
 thor discovers high critical ability -, and is 
 fortunate in explaining his rules, by apply- 
 ing them to passages in writers of distin- 
 guished eminence. A laudable zeal is seen 
 upon the part of the teacher to communicate 
 useful instrudtion ; and he is wonderfully 
 successful, in giving to each of his Ledlures, 
 upon the subjed: of Style, almost every ex- 
 cellence that can belong to a didadtic dis- 
 course. All ornament in the language seems 
 to be studiously avoided. Nothing drops 
 from the pen of the author, which might 
 divert the reader's attention from its proper 
 objedl. Perspicuity alone is courted; and 
 by so great a master in the art of writing, it 
 is completely attained. 
 
 In this part of the course, three Ledlures 
 are set apart for giving rules with regard to 
 the construftion of sentences. Aristotle's 
 
55 
 
 definition of a sentence is considered as a 
 good one : — ** A form of speech having a 
 beginning and an end within itself, and of 
 such a length, as to be easily comprehend- 
 ed." Sentences are viewed in resped: to 
 their clearness, their unity, their strength, 
 and their harmony. Instances from authors 
 of note are produced, in some of which 
 these qualities are shewn to be conspicu- 
 cuous, and in others to be deficient. The 
 learned critic does not degrade his talents, 
 by uttering any thing that is scurrilous, 
 or illiberal. Knowing the difficulty of the 
 art which he professed, he makes every 
 allowance for those who occasionally fail 
 in it. With a taste that could measure 
 scrupulously every beauty and every defedt, 
 he is always more disposed to praise than 
 to censure; and in correding slips which 
 he felt strongly, he discovers the most a- 
 miable candour. 
 
 Under the article of Style, Dr. Blair treats 
 of the origin and nature of the figures oi 
 rhetoric. Here a fine field is presented for 
 
56 
 
 the display of his taste ^ of the strength of 
 which, in spite of his modesty, he seems 
 luckily conscious. In seledling instances^ 
 with a view to explain the nature of Meta- 
 phor, Hyperbole, Prosopopeia, Apostrophe, 
 and other figures of speech, we have equal 
 reason to admire his industry and his judg- 
 ment. As soon as he apprehended the ex- 
 istence, he marked the cause of every beauty 
 and defe(3:. His feeling, in regard to both, 
 was correft, as well as strong ; and the deli- 
 cate instinct, which led to the immediate 
 perception of each, was accompanied with 
 an exercise of judgment, which measured 
 its precise extent. 
 
 Though many curious observations are 
 made by Dr. Blair, Lord Karnes, and Dr. 
 Campbell^ upon the Philosophy of Rheto- 
 rical Figures, yet the subjed: is by no means 
 exhausted. Much ingenuity may yet be 
 shewn in tracing the principle upon which 
 they respectively operate, and in marking 
 the boundaries by which they are distin- 
 guished. It was no small loss to the lite- 
 
57 
 
 rary world, that Dr. Smith ordered his ma- 
 nuscripts on the subjed: to be destroyed, 
 because they appeared to himself to be in 
 some degree imperfedl. Theories by a mind 
 like his, though incomplete, must have 
 thrown light upon their subjedl, and sug- 
 gested hints, which others might have pur- 
 sued. It was alleged by him and his friends, 
 that Dr. Blair had availed himself largely of 
 his remarks, both on the construdion of 
 sentences, and on the general charaders of 
 style. In this case, however, there was 
 no plagiarism. Dr. Blair tells us in a note, 
 that several ideas upon the^^e subjeds had 
 been taken from a manuscript treatise on 
 Rhetoric shewn him by the learned and 
 ingenious author Dr. Adam Smith ; and 
 which, it was hoped, would be given by him 
 to the public. It is the wish of a plagiarist 
 to shine in borrowed feathers, which Dr. 
 Blair disdained. He avowed his obligation 
 to his learned friend ^ and understood when 
 he did so, that the public would have it in 
 their power to judge of its extent. 
 8 
 
58 
 
 The laudable anxiety of Dr. Blair to give 
 every possible instrudion, with regard to 
 style, is further visible in a critical examina- 
 tion of four papers in the Spectator, and of 
 a passage in the writings of Dean Swift. In 
 the jfive Lectures containing this, every rule 
 formerly given is turned to immediate use. 
 Whatever may have been obscure in theory 
 is rendered clear in pradice, and every stu- 
 dent feels himself furnished with a canon 
 for judging of the style of others, and for 
 regulating his own. 
 
 After finishing what relates to style. Dr. 
 Blair ascends a step higher, and examines 
 the subjedts on which style is employed. 
 He treats of eloquence, or the different 
 kinds of public speaking, as exhibited in 
 popular assemblies, at the bar, and in the 
 pulpit. He defines eloquence with great 
 precision, and exposes the mistaken notions 
 which men entertain with regard to it. He 
 compares the state of the art in ancient and 
 modern times, and the merits of two illus- 
 trious orators, Demosthenes and Cicero. 
 
59 
 
 In comparing orators, whose praftice was 
 the standard of excellence in their respec- 
 tive countries, much critical ability is dis- 
 played. From the merit of Cicero, there 
 seems to be no disposition to detradt. His 
 powers of embellishing his subjecft, and of 
 prejudicing his hearers in his favour, are 
 spoken of as they deserve. For the discern- 
 ment of those French critics, who give him 
 the preference to his rival, all resped: is 
 shewn; though in this opinion Dr. Blair 
 refuses to acquiesce. He agrees with Mr. 
 Hume, who, in his Essay upon Eloquence, 
 declares, that, of all human produdions, the 
 orations of Demosthenes approach the near- 
 est to perfedion. He complains, that the 
 art of the Roman orator is, on all occasions, 
 too obvious ; and that, in the midst of high 
 sentiments of patriotism, his hearer is often 
 disturbed with some trifling attention to 
 himself. He quotes Fenelon, as expressing 
 sentiments that coincide with his own:-— 
 '' Je ne crains pas dire que Demosthene me 
 paroit super ieiir a Ciceron^ ye pro teste que 
 
60 
 
 per Sonne n admire plus Ciceron que je Jcas, 
 II embellit tout ce quil tonche, 11 fait ho- 
 72eiir a la parole. II fait des mots ce qiiun 
 autre nen saurott Jaire. II a,je ne sais com- 
 bien de sortes d' esprit s. II est meme court ct 
 'vehement y toutes les jois quil veut I'etre; 
 contre Catiline^ contre Verres^ contre Antoine, 
 Mais on remarque quelque parure dans son 
 disc ours. Uart y est merveilleux -, mais on 
 Vent revolt, Uorateur en pensant au salut de 
 la repuhlique ne s oublie pas, et ne se laisse 
 pas oublier'' 
 
 The rhetorical powers of Demosthenes 
 are held forth, as being of a higlier order 
 than those of Cicero, and also as being dif- 
 ferent in kind. Of the former, vigour and 
 austerity are made the charad:eristics ; and 
 of the latter, gentleness and insinuation. 
 The simplicity of the style of Demosthenes 
 is said to suit the energy of his thoughts. No 
 studied ornament in the one interrupts the 
 rapid course of the other. Bold as his figures 
 often are, they appear the fruit of no effort; 
 and the precise train of conceptions that 
 
61 
 
 existed in the mind of the orator is trans- 
 fused into his audience with inimitable art. 
 Dr. Blair appeals again to the elegant and 
 corred taste of the Archbishop of Cam- 
 bray: — ^' Demosthe?ie paroit sortir de sot^ et 
 ne voir que la patrie. II ne c here he point Ic 
 beau ; // le fait, sans y penser. II est au dessus 
 de r admiration. II se sert de la parole 
 comme un homme modeste de son habit , pour 
 secouvrir. Ilto?2?iey il foudroye. Cest un 
 torrent qui entraine tout. On ne peut le en- 
 tiquer^ parcequ on est saisi. On pense aux 
 choses qiiil dity et non a ses paroles. On 
 le perde de vue. On nest occupe que dc 
 Philippe, qui envahit tout. Je suis char me, 
 de ces deux orateurs-, jnaisj'avoue que je suis 
 mot7is touche de V art injini, et de la magni- 
 fique eloquence de Ciceron, que de la raptde 
 simplicite de DemostheneJ' 
 
 In order to exemplify that high species 
 of eloquence, which Demosthenes exhibits 
 so successfully against Philip of Macedon, 
 Dr. Blair gives large extrads from his Phi- 
 lippics and Olynthiacs. In these extrads. 
 
62. 
 
 which, unfortunately, are in Enghsh only, 
 the beauties of the original can be but im- 
 perfectly seen. There is one passage in 
 them which we shall take the liberty to 
 quote in both languages, as being at pre- 
 sent particularly interesting, and stnciiy 
 applicable to the times. What Demos- 
 thenes did among the Athenians, Britain 
 to the immortal honour of those who now 
 dired her councils, has long done, and is 
 still doing, among the nations of Europe. 
 With a magnanimous, and, at the same 
 time, a humane attention to their interests, 
 she has been their faithful monitor as to evils, 
 which some of them, by disregarding her 
 warnings, now experience, and which others 
 have reason to dread. 
 
 ^*J, sJ^» OVTI TWW (TUjK^egOVTci'V OuTE TMlV 5«6vT<2v 7T^«.^cH SxjV»jHs6»' OvS\ OVfijvXI, sic 
 
 ^lO^jtMv, Tov %qoviv Xig5'av»i TBTOi;, 'iv xK>.iig v.Tr'oKKxiTctt, 'ixx^o; eyva-Jtij, il; yi juo$ Sox-tr 
 «i)X o-rjo; 9MknToi,i ri T<tii> 'EiKKviViav tnOTriuv , iSi Tr^eLTTuv' iarti, ort ys Hr"'-? '«f lO^Of ^ 
 xxrji^aKk TTU^trS, it Tfco? uKKa n»*.i, "»« r^i ttxvv sto^Jim Soxovvti vvV »^8f«y»» ^r^aci^yj. 
 Tpy, i?«j iyvosr J(i:Tcu. AHMO20. RATA *IAUI. AOF. TPIT. 
 
63 
 
 ** Neither Greece, nor the other nations 
 of the earth, afford sufficient scope for this 
 man's ambition. Yet all we Greeks, who 
 see and who hear these things, send no em- 
 bassies with regard to them to each other, 
 nor do we feel the indignation that becomes 
 us. Such is the state of degradation in 
 which we now lie, and such is the mean 
 security which we court, by keeping with- 
 in our cities, that even to this very day we 
 have been able to perform none of those 
 things which our interest and our duty re- 
 quire. We make no common stand, and we 
 form no league for our common defence. 
 But we behold this man becoming mo^e 
 and more powerful, while each of us, as 
 far as I can judge, supposes, that the time 
 daring which he is destroying another is a 
 respite gained to himself. No one of us 
 judges as to those means, or performs those 
 ailions, by which Greece is to be saved from 
 destru(5lion. No man, at the same time, is 
 ignorant, that, hke the regular paroxysm of 
 a fever, or of some other noxious disease, he 
 
64 
 
 is coming upon those, who beheve the dan- 
 ger to be now at a distance." 
 
 When Dr. Blair comes to treat of the 
 eloquence of the Pulpit, he stands upon 
 ground that is entirely his own. Upon this 
 subjed: he could borrow from no body who 
 was capable of instruding him. His suc- 
 cess in the art of preaching had proved the 
 soundness of every rule he adopted, and 
 established his right to dired: others in a de- 
 partment, where he exhibited so distinguish- 
 ed a pattern. 
 
 The same talent that led Dr. Blair to 
 such eminence as a preacher, fitted him also 
 to judge ably of the condud of every kind 
 of discourse. Many rules in composition 
 are so general, as to apply equally to them 
 all. The same law holds in each, in re- 
 gard to the introdudion, to the division, 
 to the parts that are narrative and argu- 
 mentative, and to the peroration. In the 
 Ledures upon those subjeds, accordingly, 
 much valuable information is to be found. 
 No wild theory is offered, in which the au- 
 
65 
 
 thor had exercised his fancy more than his 
 judgment; but every rule rests on the tes- 
 timony of experience, and may with safety 
 be carried into pracflice. 
 
 In the fifth and last part of Dr. Blair's 
 Leftures, he treats of the different species 
 of literary composition. He begins with 
 historical writing, and defines the nature of 
 that, which is properly the subjed: of criti- 
 cism. The primary qualities of a great 
 historian are marked with precision; and 
 the charafter of those illustrious writers is 
 given, in whom they were most conspicu- 
 ous. To the high powers of Tacitus, among 
 the ancients, all justice is done. The phi- 
 losopher, the poet, and the historian, we 
 are told, all meet in him ; though with rare 
 accomplishments he exhibits considerable 
 defed:s. 
 
 The concluding Lectures in Dr. Blair's 
 course treat of Poetry in all its varieties. 
 The Laws of Pastoral, Lyric, Epic, Comic, 
 and Tragic Poetry, are accurately unfold- 
 ed ; and in doing so, he writes with a bold- 
 9 
 
66. 
 
 ness, which, in the abstradt speculations 
 respefting taste and universal grammar, he 
 never assumes. When he borrow^s from the 
 French critics, he does so judiciously. His 
 own observations are such, as to bear a 
 comparison with the best, of which he avails 
 himself j and he estimates the merit of poets, 
 both ancient and modern, by applying their 
 works to a standard, in which there is nei- 
 ther partiality nor prejudice. 
 
 From the general view taken of Dr. Blair's 
 Le(ftures, it may perhaps appear, that though 
 they are not the most masterly of his works, 
 yet they do no discredit to his reputation. 
 Much was expedled from them at the time 
 they were published. The criticism on 
 Ossian's Poems had been universally ad- 
 mired. Those who denied their authenti- 
 city, and those who held their merit to be 
 overrated, agreed with their antagonists in 
 applauding the standard by which that me- 
 rit was tried. The fame of its author as a 
 preacher had long been established. The 
 Sermons, which he delivered from the pul- 
 
61 
 
 pit, had delighted many an audience, and 
 the few which had then issued from the 
 press convinced every candid reader, that 
 their intrinsic excellence could set the pe- 
 tulance and the rigour of criticism at defi- 
 ance. 
 
 The unrivalled charafter, then, which Dr. 
 Blair had acquired in his profession, when 
 his Ledures first appeared, made it no easy 
 matter to satisfy the public expectation . 
 To them the keenest edge of criticism was 
 applied, and slips, which would have passed 
 unnoticed from the pen of another, were 
 rigorously marked, when coming from his. 
 Much was said as to the want of vigour, 
 both in the thought and the composition. 
 Though his disquisitions as to grammar 
 were declared to be flimsy and borrowed, 
 yet the demerit of their authors seems to 
 be wholly ascribed to him. His merciless 
 critics, eager to assume a consequence to 
 which they were not entitled, forgot, that 
 to the merit of entire originality he never 
 laid claim. As a teacher of youth, he was. 
 
more anxious to accommodate his matter 
 to their capacity, than to the whim of con- 
 ceited theorists. Upon sHght defedls his 
 mahgnant critics fastened their envenomed 
 tooth. In spite of every attempt, however, 
 to mislead the sense of the pubHc, Dr. Blair's 
 Ledlures hold a respectable place in the 
 estimation of the learned. Though they 
 are not his most correal productions, yet the 
 taste of the author, and the value of his col- 
 lection, can never cease to command the ad- 
 miration of the discerning. The world 
 must ever feel indebted to his labours, and 
 must respect his ability as a critic, in which 
 capacity only we have as yet had occasion to 
 view him. 
 
ed 
 
 The severity of criticism has shewn itself 
 in no instance more remarkably, than when 
 applied to those discourses that are intend- 
 ed to instruct and to reform mankind. 
 While the hearer of sermons confesses him- 
 self to be both ignorant and wicked, he 
 gives few signs of that modesty which be- 
 comes his situation. He assumes the pri- 
 vilege of being the critic of his teacher. 
 The doftrines held out for his improvement 
 are tried by a standard of his own creation. 
 He often hears the preacher with cold in- 
 difference, and rashly judges of the nature 
 of the prescription, even when he confesses 
 himself ignorant of the nature of the disease. 
 Did that, which holds generally, hold uni- 
 versally with the hearers of sermons, the art 
 of the preacher could never be exerted with 
 effect. The arrogance of a critic, and the 
 docility of a learner, cannot exist in the same 
 
70 
 
 person. Before instrudion can be commu- 
 nicated, its use must be felt; and no skill 
 on the part of the teacher can combat that 
 unaptness which arises from conceit. 
 
 To the eloquence of the pulpit, at the same 
 time, criticism may be fairly applied. A 
 hearer, who is willing to profit by the in- 
 strudbons offered, is entitled to judge of their 
 excellence, by the effed which they produce 
 on himself. He, who believed before, may 
 have his faith confirmed; and virtuous im- 
 pressions already existing may receive addi- 
 tional strength. 
 
 The difficulty of excelling in pulpit elo- 
 quence may be inferred from the small 
 number of those who have become conspi- 
 cuous in that species of oratory. Though 
 many have reached, and even surpassed me- 
 diocrity, yet few have attained to distin- 
 guished eminence. To the ambition of 
 churchmen, in some countries, no ordinary 
 objeds are held forth. In these, however, 
 the vigour of the exertion has seldom cor- 
 responded with the value of the prize ; and 
 
71 
 
 fewer, perhaps, of the high exertions of ora- 
 tory have been heard from the pulpit, than 
 in the senate or at the bar. Each of the 
 three fields has advantages and disadvantages 
 peculiar to itself; to which, in order to as- 
 certain what constitutes the merit of a dis- 
 tinguished preacher, it may be proper to at- 
 tend. 
 
 The necessity of a liberal education may 
 be held common to all in the different pro- 
 fessions. Without this, the purposes of 
 nature in bestowing genius would be frus- 
 trated ; and her best gifts, unimproved, 
 would be beheld with regret. In acqui- 
 ring intelledual improvement, the success 
 of the student rests on his own exertion ^ 
 and in none of the learned professions does 
 there exist any limitation of the degree in 
 which such improvement is needed. The 
 industrious possessor of talents takes a place 
 in the estimation of the world, which no 
 good man will deny him. 
 
 In regard to moral improvement, on the 
 other hand, the case is different. Thoui^h 
 
72 
 
 no man of loose principles will be heard 
 with pleasure, and though the character of 
 the speaker always afFefts the weight of his 
 argument, yet in all the subjed:s of elo- 
 quence, strid: probity upon the part of the 
 orator is not alike indispensable. Men will 
 forgive in the politician and in the lawyer, 
 what they condemn in the Divine. An ap- 
 proach to relaxed morality in the first of 
 these, is held venial from the situation in 
 which the agent is placed. A more liberal 
 canon is applied to the condudl of those 
 styled men of the world, than to others 
 around them. 
 
 To the barrister, too, certain indulgences 
 are given, which his profession is supposed 
 to require. It is his avowed duty to conceal 
 what would hurt his client -, to try at times 
 to mislead the judge, and often to make 
 the worse appear the better reason. Modes 
 of thinking and reasoning, held in some 
 degree professional, escape the censure which 
 would otherwise pursue them ; and as long 
 as the general character of the senator and 
 
73 
 
 the lawyer remains unimpeached, the most 
 rigorous standard is not applied to the con- 
 dud: of either. The situation of the 
 preacher, in the respedt now mentioned, 
 is much more trying than that of those 
 compared with him. Though he tells his 
 audience, that the commandment which he 
 holds forth admits of a liberal interpreta- 
 tion, yet little allowance is made for his 
 personal frailty. By exaggerating the foi- 
 bles of their instructor, men wish to screen 
 themselves from his reproof; and by a fool- 
 ish demand of perfection, where it can ne- 
 ver exist, they depreciate merit, which is 
 entitled to their respedl. 
 
 There may be errors, however, upon the 
 part of the preacher, not to be palliated by 
 the weakness of his audience. High as is 
 the authority upon which his precepts rest, 
 they must be delivered with the mildness 
 of a Christian. Even in the warnings which 
 he is obliged to give, affedion must be ma- 
 nifest; and though he ''knows the terrors 
 of the Lord," he must *' in meekness in- 
 
 lO 
 
74 
 
 strudl those that oppose themselves." The 
 least symptom of arrogance would diminish 
 his usefulness. It would create a jealousy 
 of those arts, upon which priestcraft erecSs 
 its dominion. 
 
 The art of the preacher is brought to a 
 severe proof, not only by the prejudices, but 
 also by the mixed nature of his audience. 
 In the promiscuous croud which he is cal- 
 led to address, very different portions of 
 ability belong to those composing it. To 
 this original diiference in mind, is to be added, 
 an endless variety of charader, arising from 
 modes of education, and from casual pre- 
 possessions. One man is unable to appre- 
 hend, what another is unwilling to believe. 
 The same sentiment which delights peo- 
 ple of one description, disgusts those of an 
 opposite. Though no innocent prejudice 
 should be shocked by the preacher, yet he 
 must boldly censure what he cannot pal- 
 liate. By excessive lenity he might betray 
 the cause of virtue, which he is bound to 
 support; and by excessive rigour, he might 
 
75 
 
 countera6l the spirit of the religion which he 
 professes to inculcate. 
 
 When the senator and the lawyer exert 
 their eloquence, they are hardly, if at all, 
 exposed to such trials of delicacy and skill. 
 The former addresses men upon a level with 
 himself, in as far as equality depends on 
 things external. In both houses of parlia- 
 ment, whatever diversity may exist in the 
 political opinions of the members, there is 
 none in the rank entitling each to hold his 
 place. Jealousy, as to their respective pri- 
 vileges, is a sentiment common to all ; and 
 in their pursuits and their acquirements, 
 there is often but a slight disparity. The 
 task imposed on the lawyer, in this respect, 
 seems easier than even that of the senator. 
 His eloquence is exerted to convince one 
 or a few judges, or a jury that is not very 
 numerous. In any of the cases stated, the 
 hearers are supposed capable of following 
 the speaker's reasoning; and prejudice can 
 hardly operate upon men guided, to a cer- 
 tain extent, by positive statute, and by a sense 
 of equity. 
 
76 
 
 In point of siibje6t, the preacher seems 
 to possess advantages that cannot be dis- 
 sembled. It is one in whi; h all men are 
 concerned, and in which their highest inte- 
 rests are involved. While the powers of 
 the barrister support the rights of an indi- 
 vidual, and those of the senator the prospe- 
 rity of a nation, the aim of the preacher is 
 higher than either. He has it in charge 
 to teach both, that in public and private 
 transad:ions the rights of men are to be re- 
 spedied; and he tries to remove the grounds 
 of animosity among individuals, and among 
 nations. He calls the attention of the world, 
 not only to the best means of maintaining 
 interests that are present and temporal, but 
 to the only means of acquiring others that 
 are future and eternal. What subjed:, in 
 point of sublimity, can be compared with 
 that, which treats of the being and the per- 
 fections of God? How do the sandions of 
 human laws dwindle into nothing, when op- 
 posed to those of the divine ! 
 
 The lawyer is often called to discuss 
 points that afford no room for displaying 
 
77 
 
 his eloquence. When he illustrates dark 
 subjeds, or reconciles jarring decisions, any 
 thing like rhetorical power would expose 
 him to ridicule. Few can follow a train of 
 metaphysical reasoning, even when proper- 
 ly applied, or see the beauty of an inge- 
 nious evidion of the truth. Every hearer, 
 at the same time, measures the speaker's 
 capacity by his own, and foolishly per- 
 suades himself, that no meaning exists, when 
 he is too dull to apprehend it. Were the 
 subjeds treated by the lawyer those only 
 that have now been mentioned, the elo- 
 quence of the bar could never have existed. 
 There are times, however, when his field 
 changes, and when he must leave the pur- 
 suit of hypercritical distindions. In vin- 
 dicating a civil right, and in repelling a 
 criminal charge, he must work on the feel- 
 ing, as well as on the understanding, of his 
 audience. He then appeals to the law 
 that is written by the hand of Nature, from 
 which the guilty instindively dread punish- 
 ment, and the innocent seek protedion. 
 
78 
 
 He supposes the judge to be aware of its 
 sanctions, and reasons upon those great 
 principles of equity, which existed before 
 any human enadlment, and were co-eval 
 with man. 
 
 The dehberations in the senate afford a 
 field for eloquence, in some respeds supe- 
 rior, and in all equal, to that presented by 
 the pleadings at the bar. No subtle dis- 
 criminations, in the former, engross the 
 hearer's power of reasoning, and cramp his 
 fancy. As the points discussed always af- 
 fed: the interests of a nation, they can ne- 
 ver cease to be important. Few hear de- 
 bates with indifference, in the issue of which 
 they are themselves concerned; and public 
 expedation is roused by their subjects be- 
 ing previously known. T^he lawyer and the 
 preacher, again, seldom enjoy this advan- 
 tage. No notice is given by the former of 
 the point that is to be pleaded; and when 
 the latter ascends his pulpit, his audience 
 know nothing as to the subjed of his dis- 
 course. 
 
79 
 
 Though the preacher chuses his subjeft 
 from a variety of topics, yet the range of 
 his choice is known to his hearers. Every 
 point of dodrine that he can adopt at the 
 time, must have repeatedly engaged the at- 
 tention of those whom he is called to ad- 
 dress. To subjefts, thus trite and fami- 
 liar, no powders can give the charm of no- 
 velty. When his text is announced, his 
 hearers anticipate what he is to say. If 
 his observations tally with what they have 
 heard, they are regarded as common, and 
 he may be unjustly accused of not think- 
 ing for himself. In the subje6ls, again, of 
 the barrister's pleadings, and of the sena- 
 tor's debates, there appears a variety that 
 is endless. Though the same principle may 
 apply to a number of each, yet every hearer 
 does not see this, and every case is clothed 
 with circumstances peculiar to itself. The 
 fate of persons, besides, forms an objed: that 
 is tangible and interesting ; while the es- 
 sence of those virtues and graces, which 
 the preacher delineates, is often too subtle 
 for either rousing the attention, or influ- 
 
80 
 
 encing the condud, of those to whom he 
 speaks. 
 
 The preacher also has to lament the dis- 
 advantage of having no adversary to con- 
 tend With. Whatever his doctrines are, 
 they are received, at least in appearance, 
 with implicit assent. No jealous antago- 
 nist watches every sentiment as it is uttered, 
 with a view either to refute his reasoning, 
 or to force him to a reply, which may give 
 room for a new attack. Secure from the 
 malignity of criticism, he is apt to shrink 
 from the laborious effort, by which other 
 speakers can, in the eye of the judicious, 
 set it at defiance. The ardour of debate 
 does not enHven his genius, as in the se- 
 nate, and at the bar, where man sharpens 
 man. Where there is no conflid:, there can 
 be little exertion. Even the ambitious sub- 
 mit not to labour, but when labour is re- 
 quired ; and high efforts of eloquence are 
 then only to be expedled, when the speaker 
 is as m.uch afraid to commit a fauh, as the 
 hearer is eager to deted it. The preacher. 
 
81 
 
 then, who acquires the highest eminence 
 in his profession, must have had the 
 best gifts of nature committed to him, and 
 must have zealously improved the trust. 
 If, in some respeds, he has the advantage 
 of the senator and the barrister, yet in 
 many, they have manifestly the advantage 
 of him. To excel in any of the depart- 
 ments, requires a force of genius that is 
 seldom to be seen. The preacher, how- 
 ever, who is unrivalled in his profession, 
 must have left others who moved in it far 
 behind him. It may be more easy, as a great 
 French critic observes, to preach than to 
 plead; but it is well added, that it is more 
 difficult to preach well, than to plead well. 
 The following remarks of M. Bruyere, upon 
 the difficulty of the preacher's art, cannot 
 be too much admired : — ** U eloquence de la 
 chair e^ en ce qui y entre d'humain et du talent 
 de Vorateur^ est cachee, connue de pen de per^ 
 Sonne Sy et d'une difficile execution, — II faut 
 marcher par des chemins bat t us, dire ce qui 
 a ete dity et ce que I* on prevoit que vous allez 
 II 
 
82 
 
 dire: les matter es sont grandes, mats usees et 
 triviales 'y les principes surs dont les audi^ 
 teiirs pe}2etrent les conclusions d'u7ie seule 
 i}ue 'y il y entre des sujets qui sont sublimes : 
 mais qui peut trailer le sublime ? — Le predi- 
 cateur n est point soutenuy comme tavocaty par 
 des faits toujours nouveauXy par de differens 
 evenemtnsy par des avantures inouies-y il ne 
 sexerce point sur les questions douteusesy il 
 ne fait point valoir les violentes conjeBures, 
 et les presomptions y toutes choseSy neanmoins 
 qui elevent le genie y lui donnent de la force y 
 et de Fetenduey et qui contraignent hien moins 
 r eloquence quelles ne lafixent et ne la dirigent. 
 II doit au contrairCy tirer son discours d'line 
 source commune et ou tout le monde puise ; et 
 sil secarte de ces lieux communes y il nest plus 
 populaire -, il est ab strait ou declamateur ; // 
 ne preche plus Pevangile ; // n a hesoin que 
 d'une noble simplicitey mais ilfaut fatteindre ; 
 talent rarey et qui passe les forces du commun 
 des hommes ; ce quils ont de genie y d'imagi- 
 nation, d' erudition, et de mefnoire, ne leur sert 
 souvent qu a s'en eloigner^ — On croit voir 
 
83 
 
 quil est plus aise de precher que de plaider^ 
 et plus dijficile de bien precher que de bien 
 plaider '' — Les Caraderes, ou les meurs dc 
 ce siecle. Tom. 2d. p. 251. 
 
 After viewing the Senate, the Bar, and the 
 Pulpit, as fields for the display of eloquence, 
 and marking the difficulties peculiar to each, 
 it may be. proper to establish a standard for 
 judging of the preacher's merit, when cal- 
 led to pradlise his art. There are certain 
 great rules in composition, by which dis- 
 courses of every kind are regulated, and 
 which those distinguished for rhetorical ta- 
 lents never negleft. There are others which, 
 when duly observed, constitute more im- 
 mediately the beauty of sermons, and which 
 lead to eminence in that very delicate spe- 
 cies of writing. A successful preacher must 
 feel precisely the nature of the duty re- 
 quired of him. This duty, if properly ap- 
 prehended, will be understood to be both 
 arduous and interesting. It supposes the 
 person undertaking it to combat propensi- 
 sities not easily resisted, and to mortify the 
 
84 
 
 pride of man, by holding out to him a just 
 though an humbUng pidture. He who flat- 
 ters the prejudices, or extenuates the vices 
 of his audience, is a traitor to the cause 
 which he espouses. Though the avowed 
 friend of virtue, he is its secret enemy; and 
 he seeks the favour of others, at the expense 
 of every thing vahiable to himself. 
 
 But it is the business of the preacher, not 
 bnly to deter others from the commission 
 of what is evil, but also to persuade them to 
 the practice of what is good. With a view 
 to impress his dodtrines upon their hearts, 
 he must appeal to their understandings. 
 Genuine eloquence shews itself by opera- 
 ting upon each, and renders both subser- 
 vient to one common end. It gives perma- 
 nence to the emotion, that would be other- 
 wise transient, and energy to the conviction, 
 that must stimulate an agent by influencing 
 his will. 
 
 In ofder to produce an efFedl so difficult 
 and momentous, every part of a sermon 
 must be composed with care. Though a 
 
85 
 
 man of genius shews himself even in a pro- 
 dudiion that is hasty, yet he wounds the 
 discerning critic, who catches the least de- 
 fed:, and perceives its cause. His audience 
 is often blamed, when the fault is not theirs. 
 Had the rules of his art been observed, he 
 might have summoned the attention, which 
 they would have been willing to yield. He 
 might have done so, indeed, by means of 
 which they were unconscious, and exhibited 
 a species of skill the more meritorious, that 
 it was unperceived. 
 
 The ability of the preacher is perhaps 
 never put to a severer test, than when he 
 begins to address his audience. Every ear 
 he finds then open, and every mind unoc- 
 cupied. He has to court the attention of 
 his hearers, without seeming to obtrude 
 himself upon it. He must appear the 
 friend of those whom he addresses, and 
 less anxious to exhibit skill in his art, than 
 to promote their interest. His subjed: must 
 be held forth as important, and such, at 
 the same time, as may be easily and shortly 
 
86 
 
 discussed. The docility of his hearers must 
 be secured by the removal of every prepos- 
 session against the point vs^hich he means 
 to estabhsh. His manner ought to be calm 
 and dispassionate. Far from striking a note 
 at the outset which he cannot afterwards 
 reach, he must conceal and keep in reserve 
 those powers, by which he is to animate his 
 audience. In the introdudions of Demos- 
 thenes, the orator almost forgets himself, 
 and presses forward to the business with an 
 ardour, which he seems often unable to 
 check. 
 
 In the division of his discourse, the 
 preacher gives a specimen of his talents as 
 a logician. The distribution must be so 
 condudted, that nothing essential is omit- 
 ted, and nothing superfluous introduced. 
 Each part, of course, stands clear of the 
 rest, however nearly allied to them. The 
 subject must be exhausted by the parts, 
 into which it is divided; and all the points 
 of consequence should appear to have been 
 at once in the speaker's eye. The simplest 
 
87 
 
 of these should take place of those that are 
 complex ; so that, by the regularity of their 
 arrangement, the whole become luminous. 
 A division thus conducted pleases the dis- 
 cerning, and arrests their notice. It is the 
 surest means also of informing the ignorant, 
 who suffer from the confusion of superficial 
 instructors. It rests on those first principles 
 of reasoning which all inherit from nature, 
 though they are improved by few. 
 
 When the preacher is called to relate, 
 which is seldom the case, his narration 
 should be distinft and concise. Men would 
 withhold their attention from what his dull- 
 ness embarrasses, and would grudge also to 
 have it needlessly prolonged. The same 
 rules, which are his guides when he relates, 
 should be so likewise when he explains. 
 His style should be simple and corredt, and 
 void of any ornament that might divert the 
 hearer's attention. The dodtrine of his text 
 should be distinctly stated, and the slightest 
 boundary marked by which it is separated 
 
from that of other texts, though nearly al- 
 lied to it. 
 
 Each of the parts of a sermon thus treat- 
 ed holds a distind: place, and presents itself 
 in a train that cannot be altered. Rheto- 
 ricians talk also of the argumentative and 
 the pathetic parts. These, however, ap- 
 pear rather to be qualities diffusing them- 
 selves over the whole, than the separate 
 constituents of a discourse. From no one 
 part of it can argument be banished; and 
 an orator may see reason to rouse the feel- 
 ings of his audience at very different times. 
 In forming and in arranging his arguments, 
 the preacher gives as clear proofs of the 
 correcflness of his conceptions, as in di- 
 viding his discourse. Those drawn from 
 topics essentially distind:, should not be 
 blended; and those that are similar, should 
 not be set asunder. By preserving uni- 
 formity in this respedl:, confusion is avoid- 
 ed. Whatever embarrasses the hearer, di- 
 minishes the speaker's power; and the gene- 
 ral impression is enfeebled, when the means. 
 
intended to excite it, are not duly distin- 
 guished. 
 
 Iq the arrangement of arguments, too, 
 much art may be displayed. There are 
 times when the most powerful should take 
 the lead, and the least so should follow. 
 There are others, when this order should be 
 i'pversed, and when the speaker should seem 
 to abandon every preliminary argument, 
 and rest upon the last. Above all things, 
 he should beware of multiplying them need- 
 lessly. By thus seeming to distrust his 
 cause, he makes others do so; and vain 
 would be the attempt to balance, by the 
 number of his arguments, any deficiency 
 in their strength. 
 
 In the due management of the pathetic 
 part of a discourse, more talent is requisite 
 than in that of the argumentative. To ex- 
 cel in the former, delicate sensibility must 
 be united w^ith a sound understanding. This 
 sensibility must be under the control of 
 reason, and must display itself only in its 
 proper place. An injudicious attempt to 
 
 12 
 
90 
 
 rouse the feelings of an audience, disgusts 
 the discerning, and produces on the simple 
 no permanent eifed:. If the audience an- 
 ticipate the speaker's intention to move 
 them, they are instantly set upon their 
 guard. Afraid of becoming the dupes, they 
 become the critics, of his eloquence. They 
 will yield to an indiredl, when they would 
 resist any studied attempt ; and they will 
 behold with coldness that false animation 
 in the speaker, in which they cannot par- 
 ticipate. 
 
 As much art is requisite to raise such 
 high emotions, so no less is requisite to 
 preserve them in their native vigour. The 
 style of a pathetic orator will exhibit an 
 artless symplicity. He will feel too strongly 
 the animated conception which he excites 
 in others, to chace those resemblances which 
 present themselves to his fancy when cool. 
 He will sacrifice every thing to the objedt 
 then before him, which is to touch the 
 heart. A false ornament he will feel to be 
 a studied deformity, and he will keep the 
 
91 
 
 emotion, which he has had the art to excite, 
 in the channel in which he wishes it to run. 
 He, who attempts to be pathetic long, can 
 never be so at all. A real orator allows the 
 feeUngs of his audience to unbend, before 
 they are strained. He leaves the tone of 
 passion gradually, and cautiously avoids the 
 dangers of too hasty a descent. 
 
 When the preacher comes to his perora- 
 tion, he must be careful to maintain the 
 ground that he has acquired. He must 
 neither end abruptly, nor try the patience 
 of his hearers, by dwelling upon matter that 
 is trivial, or foreign. Every convidlion pro- 
 duced upon their understandings, he must 
 fortify, by rousing the feelings of their 
 hearts. He must retire from his pulpit 
 with a good grace, leaving on the minds of 
 his audience an impression, that in his rea- 
 soning there was no sophistry, and that the 
 sole objed: of his exertion was to persuade 
 them to what is good. 
 
 From the general difficulties, then, that 
 attend the eloquence which belongs to the 
 
9S 
 
 Pulpit, arid the art that is necessary for 
 Gomposing a single discourse, it mast be 
 no easy matter to earn the reputation of a 
 distinguished preachef-. He, who Stands 
 high in this department of letters, must 
 have suffered and d6ne much. If we exa- 
 mine a few of Dr. Blair's Sermons by the 
 rules which we have attempted to establish, 
 we shall be the more disposed, perhaps, to 
 admire what they present as excellent, and 
 to forgive v/hat may seem to deserve cen- 
 sure. 
 
 In the ninth Sermon of the third volume, 
 he discourses upon idleness, and views this 
 habit in a light, in which it is not com- 
 monly considered, as a violation of religious 
 duty. His text is in Mathew, xx. 6. and 
 the words are, *' Why stand you here all the 
 day idle?" 
 
 The view taken by Dr. Blair of his subject 
 in this sermon is simple and natural. He 
 proposes to prove, and does so incontrovert- 
 ibly, that the idle man fails in duty to God, 
 to the world, and to himself. Nothing ex~ 
 
traneous appears in the discourse; and though 
 the train of ideas is condu6ted with philoso- 
 phic precision, this seems to be done with- 
 out effort. 
 
 Father Bourdaloue, in the sixth Sermon 
 of his seventh volume, discourses upon idle- 
 ness also from the same text : — " Pourqiioi 
 demciirez vous ici tout le jour sans rien faire V' 
 The French preacher views his subject in 
 a light different from Dr. Blair's, and much 
 less consistent with logical rule. He con- 
 siders mankind as doomed to labour, in 
 consequence of the curse pronounced up- 
 on Adam; so that one text in Scripture is 
 made to recommend that as a matter of du- 
 ty, which another holds out as a matter of 
 necessity. The wealth of his hearers, he 
 tells them, does not relieve them from the 
 obligation to labour : — ** Parceque tons les 
 biens du monde ne peuvent vous soustraire 
 a la male diti ion du peche ; — parceque Dieu en 
 vous donnant ces biens na jamais eu intention 
 de deroger a ses droits-, — car l obligation du 
 travail et la nccessitc de la fnort tiennerit le 
 meme rang dans les divins decrets.*' 
 
94. 
 
 It does not appear, that the labour en- 
 tailed upon the human race is at all con- 
 nefted with that acftive exertion which, by 
 implication, is recommended in the text. 
 The former suggests punishment from ^the 
 severity of the toil denounced against him, 
 who, for his transgression, was in the sweat 
 of his brow to eat his bread. Between zeal 
 in business, and the mean indulgence of 
 the sluggard, there is a wide interval; and 
 as the one suggests the fulfilment, so does 
 the other suggest the violation of duty. 
 
 When the learned Father comes to what 
 he calls his second point, he treats the sub- 
 jedl with high ability. He had proved, 
 that man might fail in the duty said to be 
 imposed upon him as a sinner, and he goe* 
 on to prove, that he might fail in that which 
 is attached to his oarticular situation in the 
 world. , In this last view of the subjed:, 
 the two preachers coincide. The leading 
 ideas seem to have occurred to both, and 
 they are expressed with equal elegance and 
 ease. By motion and exertion, says Dr, 
 
05 
 
 Blair, the system of being is preserved in 
 vigour. By its different parts always act- 
 ing in subordination one to another, the 
 perfe(flion of the whole is carried on. The 
 heavenly bodies perpetually revolve. Day 
 and night incessantly repeat their appoint- 
 ed course. — — " Ainsiy' says the Father, 
 ** voyons nous les cieux et les as t res, qui sont 
 sur 710S tetes dajis un mowuement perpetuel 
 sans s' arret er une fois, et sans cesser de repan- 
 dre leurs injiuences,'' 
 
 In the following passage, both preachers 
 seem to have laid hold of the same idea, 
 and to present it in expressions of nearly 
 the same import. It holds so natural a 
 place in each of the sermons, that it may 
 have suggested itself to both; so that the 
 charge of plagiarism cannot certainly be 
 brought home upon the latest of the two 
 writers. The order and happiness of the 
 world,*' says Dr. Blair " cannot be main- 
 tained without a perpetual circulation of 
 adive duties and offices, which all are cal- 
 led upon to perform in their turn. Supe- 
 
06 
 
 dors are no more independent of their in- 
 feriors, than these inferiors are cf them. It 
 is sometimes supposed, that industry and 
 dihgence are duties required of the poor 
 alone, and that riches confer the privilege 
 of being idle. This is so far from being 
 justified by reason, how often soever it may 
 obtain in fadt, that the higher one is raised 
 in the world, his obligation to become 
 useful is proportionally increased. The 
 claims upon him from various quarters 
 multiply. The sphere of his adive duties 
 widens on every hand." — ** Je pretends^' 
 says the French preacher, ^^ qu a 7nesure 
 qime condition est plus elevee, elle est plus su- 
 jette a ces devoirs qiion ne pent accomplir sans 
 une action assidue et const ante ; et cest ici qiiil 
 faut encore une fois que vous vous cletrompiex 
 des fausses idees que vous avez des choses et 
 d'une erreur pernicieuse ou le monde vous a 
 peiitetre jusques a present entretenus. Car la 
 grande erreur du 7nonde est de croire que 
 r elevation^ le rang, la dignite sont autant des 
 droits acquis pour le reposy et pour la douceur 
 
97 
 
 de la vie, Mais la foi nous dit tout le con^ 
 trairCy et la raison est, que plus une condition 
 est elevee, plus elk a de grandes obligations a 
 remplir. 
 
 Bourdaloue, with the happiest effe^l:, in- 
 troduces the consequences of occasional idle- 
 ness upon three distinguished characters in 
 the Old Testament, and bids his hearers be- 
 ware of the rock upon which they split: — 
 ** Nous ne sommes ni plus saints que David, 
 ni plus eclaires que Salomon, ni plus Jorts 
 que Samson, et pour vivre dans la retraite, 
 nous navons pas moins a craindre les desordres 
 de PoisiviteJ' 
 
 The general execution of both sermons 
 discovers great merit upon the part of those 
 who composed them. In consequence of 
 the learned Father considering labour, in 
 the first part of his discourse, as the pu- 
 nishment of sin, he deprived himself of the 
 power of enforcing the precept in his text, 
 as agreeable to the adive dispositions of 
 man. It was impossible for the preacher 
 to regard the same exertion both as a pe- 
 
 13 
 
98 
 
 nance and a pleasure. Dr. Blair, again, by 
 a more just and a fortunate view of his 
 subjed:, has employed the argument from 
 which Bourdaloue precludes himself, with 
 the happiest eiFed:. He proves, to a de- 
 monstration, that the sluggard is his own 
 enemy, and that he generates and feeds the 
 disease under which he pines. *' Rest," 
 says he, " is agreeable^ but it is only from 
 preceding labours, that rest acquires its true 
 relish. When the mind is suffered to re- 
 main in continued inaction, all its powers 
 decay. It soon languishes and sickens ; 
 and the pleasures, which it proposed to ob- 
 tain from rest, end in tediousness and insi- 
 pidity." 
 
 One of the most eloquent Sermons that 
 Dr. Blair ever composed, is the fifth in the 
 first volume. The subjeft of it is the death 
 of Christ, and the text is taken from John, 
 xvii. I. "Jesus lift up his eyes to heaven, 
 and said. Father, the hour is come." The 
 objed of the preacher is to state those great 
 events which were about to take place du- 
 
99 
 
 ring an hour, the most critical which the 
 world had seen, since hours began to be 
 numbered. In the subjedl there is a native 
 dignity, of which he was aware, and deter- 
 mined to avail himself. For doing so, no 
 pompous or intricate method is adopted by 
 him. He states six points of view in which 
 this hour was interesting to the human race; 
 and each of these is kept distinft, and is 
 beautifully illustrated. 
 
 Father Massillon, in the ninth Sermon of 
 his sixth volume, discourses upon the same 
 subjed: from a different text. His is taken 
 from John, xix. 30, and the words are 
 *^ Tout est accompli,'' This consummation 
 is viewed in three lights; as that of justice 
 upon the part of the Father; and of malice 
 upon that of men ; and of love upon that of 
 Christ. Though the method pursued by 
 the two preachers is different, yet each is 
 excellent. In that of both there is a preci- 
 sion which exhausts the subjed:, and which, 
 at the same time, permits nothing extraneous 
 to mingle with it. In the pathetic parts of 
 
loa 
 
 the discourses, it is not easy to say which 
 of the preachers shines most. Those flashes 
 of imagination, which serve to illuminate 
 the subjedl, are in both frequent and vivid. 
 No attempt is ever made to embellish, 
 that doe> not succeed -, and though the cir- 
 cumstances upon which the ornament rests 
 are sometimes different, they are judiciously 
 chosen. 
 
 The magnanimity of the dying Saviour 
 is a pomt upon which the powers of the 
 preachers are successfully turned. Every 
 attempt of his enemies to degrade, served 
 only to ennoble his charader ^ and the great- 
 ness of the sufferer was made manifest in 
 the greatness of his sufferings. ** The court 
 of Herod," says Dr. Blair, ** the judgment- 
 hall of Pilate, the hill of Calvary, were so 
 many theatres prepared for his displaying 
 all the virtues of a constant and a patient 
 mind. When led forth to suffer, the first 
 voice which we hear from him is a gene- 
 rous lamentation over the fate of his unfor- 
 tunate, though guilty, country; and to the 
 last moment of his life, we behold him in 
 
101 
 
 possession of the same gentle and benevolent 
 spirit. He betrayed no symptom of a weak 
 or a vulgar, of a discomposed or an impa- 
 tient mind. With all the dignity of a so- 
 vereign, he conferred pardon on a penitent 
 fellow sufferer. With a greatness of mind 
 beyond example, he spent his last moments 
 in apologies and prayers for those who v/ere 
 shedding his blood.'' 
 
 ** En eff'ety' says Father Massillon, ** on 
 salt assez que I'attente d'lin tourmenty quon 
 ijoit present et inevitabky est toiijours plus 
 eruelle que le tourment mane ; et quon fneurt 
 d'une maniere milk fols plus douloureuse par 
 la crainte^ que par la douleur. Or, la justice 
 du Pere presente distindlement a I'ame du Sau^ 
 veiir tout r appareil de la croix ; la nuit du 
 Pretoire 'y les crachatSy les souffletSy les fouetSy 
 les derisions y le bois fatal -y ces images affreuses 
 la crucijient par avance. — Sur le Calvairey 
 toute la nature en de^ordre sinteressera pour 
 lui y ses ennemis memes le reconnoitront pour 
 Fils de Dieu : iciy il souffre dans les tenebres 
 et dans le silence , et ses plus cbers disciples /' 
 abandonnentJ' 
 
102 
 
 Passages that are equally pathetic are so 
 extremely numerous in the two sermons, 
 that it is impossible to transcribe them. 
 The sermons resemble each other in the 
 glow and general spirit with which they are 
 written, but not in their particular parts. 
 While the powers of the two preachers may 
 be judged of by the ability with which 
 each has acquitted himself upon the same 
 subject, it does not appear that Dr. Blair 
 has borrowed an idea from his predecessor. 
 The animation with which he has compo- 
 sed this sermon comes nearer that of French 
 sermons in general ; but when he chuses to 
 rise above his ordinary level, he needs no 
 foreign aid to support him. Full of his 
 subjedt, he seems to have had abundance 
 of matter suggested by his own invention. 
 Every striking circumstance is colleded to 
 heighten the splendour of the description, 
 and to support the intrinsic dignity of his 
 theme. The unafFeded ardour of the speak- 
 er does not prevent him from seeing and 
 pursuing the clearest method. In the me- 
 
103 
 
 thod itself there are no signs of labour; 
 and its adoption seems natural to those who 
 would themselves have been incapable of 
 forming it. As the best possible arrange- 
 ment is laid hold of without effort, much 
 art is successfully expended in concealing 
 the art that is afliually employed. 
 
 In the third Sermon of the third volume. 
 Dr. Blair treats of the proper improvement 
 of time. His text is taken from Genesis, 
 xlvii. 8. *'And Pharaoh said unto Jacob, 
 how old art thou ?'' He considers this ques- 
 tion as suggesting to every person, to w^hom 
 it may be put, three different portions of 
 his life, the past, the present, and the fu- 
 ture. He proposes to consider the man- 
 ner in which we ought to be affeded, by 
 attending to each of these periods 3 and, with 
 his usual judgment arranges his observations 
 with such correctness, as to carry his reader 
 constantly along with him. 
 
 The first observation, under the first head, 
 is so exceedingly obvious, that it seems to 
 
104 
 
 have been hardly necessary to make it. 
 ** According to the progress which we have 
 made in the journey of hfe, the field which 
 past years present to our view will be more 
 or less extensive." The justice of this remark 
 is seen intuitively, like that of an axiom. 
 It must strike every body to be true that 
 can think at all, yet nothing can be found- 
 ed upon it as a first principle in science. 
 It does not appear, that, in this part of the 
 discourse, any remark drops from the 
 preacher that is striking or uncommon. No 
 thought seems to have been borrowed; but 
 few, if any, carry the character of vigour 
 and originality. 
 
 The following use of the word significant 
 does not appear to be entirely pure. *' We 
 smile at our former violence, and wonder 
 how such things could have ever appeared 
 so significant and great.'' The term de- 
 notes, properly, the power of suggesting, or 
 betokening, something not expressed, and 
 is, of course, inapplicable to those things 
 said to be the subject ot wonder. Dr. John- 
 
105 
 
 son tells us, that the compounded word 
 insignificajit does not, with the strictest pro- 
 priety, denote unimportant^ though good 
 authorities seem to sanation this use of it. 
 He declares the simple term, in a contrary- 
 acceptation, to be a low word, and does not 
 produce one instance with a view to sup- 
 port it. 
 
 Father Massillon has a Sermon, in his 
 sixth volume, upon the same subjed:, from 
 Matthew, vii. 33. *^ y^ ^t^^'^^ encore avec 
 voiis iin peu de temps J' The method a.^opt- 
 ed by the two preachers is different; though, 
 in the second head of the two sermons, 
 there is a considerable similarity in the sen- 
 timent. Both condemn that restless bustle 
 in which most men spend their lives, and 
 recommend the exclusion of those super- 
 fluous avocations which consume it unpro- 
 fitably. The business of a Christian is held 
 forth to be, not that of filling up every mo- 
 ment with useless engagements, but of re- 
 gulating the distribution of time as reason 
 and religion dired:. A wise man, it is said 
 14 
 
106 
 
 by both, while he neglefts none of his du- 
 ties, tries to ascertain which are the most 
 important, and to those in particular he 
 bends his attention. By performing every 
 office of life in its due place and season, he 
 suffers no portion of time to escape without 
 profit. By establishing a system to which 
 he rigidly adheres, he multiplies his days by 
 living much in little time. 
 
 Nothing appears in this part of Dr. Blair's 
 Sermon which Massillon had not said be- 
 fore him 5 and in the execution throughout, 
 it should seem the French preacher has ra- 
 ther the advantage. 
 
 One of the most elaborate Sermons that 
 Dr. Blair ever composed, is the fourth in 
 the first volume. His text is in First Co- 
 rinthians, xiii. 12. ** For now we see 
 through a glass darkly." His objed; is to 
 justify the divine wisdom and goodness, in 
 giving us but an imperfed: knowledge of a 
 future state. The nature of the subjed: evi- 
 dently requires a greater reach of thought, 
 than most writers of sermons are capable 
 
.107 
 
 of; and few men, in any department of li- 
 terature, perhaps, could unite the depth 
 which is necessary for investigating an ab- 
 struse point, with the elegance of expression 
 which shone forth in this preacher. 
 
 The introducflion is composed with such 
 art, as just to unfold the matter to be traced, 
 without anticipating what might be needed 
 to support the argument when begun. The 
 preacher commences his inquiry with a be- 
 coming solemnity, and seems aware of the 
 difficulties before him. He, in his own lan- 
 guage, attempts humbly to trace the reasons 
 why, though permitted to know somewhat 
 of the eternal world, we are permitted to 
 know only in part ; and his purpose is an- 
 'lOunced with sufficient clearness, without 
 adopting any method, or regular division in- 
 to heads. 
 
 Although the obscurity in which we are 
 involved, as to the future state of man, bears 
 a stri(5b analogy to what prevails in other 
 parts of religion, both natural and revealed, 
 yet upon this analogy no argument is founded. 
 
108 
 
 The sceptic is called upon to correft what 
 he feels amiss, and to state the precise mea- 
 sure of information that would remove his 
 complaints. Upon a fuller display of the 
 celestial happiness than that given us in 
 the Gospel, it is argued, that the powers of 
 man, as an adlive being, would cease to 
 be exercised. Earthly concerns would not 
 then engage his attention. No objeft would 
 kindle the spirit of enterprise, or urge the 
 hand of industry. Man would sojourn up- 
 on the earth like a melancholy exile, and 
 languish in a situation, in which the objedts 
 around him are viewed with indifference, 
 and deemed unworthy of his notice. 
 
 Such a change as the sceptic is supposed 
 to desire, is, for argument's sake, allowed 
 to take place. The immediate consequence 
 is, however, that man, with the scene in 
 which he is to acS his part, would be chan- 
 ged. The conflid: between faith and sense, 
 between conscience and desire, between 
 present pleasure and future good, would 
 cease. Were there no difficulties to sur- 
 
109 
 
 mount, it is shewn, there could be no pro- 
 gress towards perfedion. tluman hfe v^ould 
 be tio longer that state of discipUne which 
 is to meliorate the charader of man, and to 
 fit him to become an inhabitant of heaven. 
 The presumptuous wish of the sceptic, if 
 gratified, only changes, without improving, 
 the purposes of his Creator. He proves in- 
 voluntarily the wisdom of God, who made 
 the world, and the folly of that man who 
 vainly attempts to amend it. As much- 
 light, it is said, is let in upon us, as our 
 unripened powers can bear. It is enough 
 to stimulate our desire of a state that is 
 better, and not so much as to make us neg- 
 led the concerns of that which is present. 
 Supposed blemishes, then, in our moral 
 constitution, are real perfedlions ; and the 
 defecfts complained of in the works of God, 
 arise from a disease in the eye that beholds 
 them. 
 
 It is hardly possible to conceive a subtle 
 discussion more corredly stated, or more 
 logically carried on. The con:iposition is 
 
no 
 
 as elegant as the siibjecft will bear. Still, 
 however, the great beauty of the sermon 
 lies in the argumentative, which is the pre- 
 dominant part of it. Even if the attempt 
 had been feeble, yet having for its object 
 to justify the decree of Providence, it 
 would have been worthy of him who makes 
 it. The uncommon ability displayed, adds 
 infinitely to its merit ; and every reader 
 must be pleased to see such talents as the 
 Almighty seldom bestows, vindicating his 
 ways against the cavils of those, by whom 
 they are blamed, because they are not un- 
 derstood. 
 
 There is perhaps no one of Dr. Blair's 
 Sermons which is more charadleristic of his 
 manner of preaching, than that upon Gen- 
 tleness. For writing on such a subjedl, 
 indeed, he was particularly fitted. Pos- 
 sessing in an uncommon degree that gen- 
 tleness which he delineates, he had only to 
 look into his own mind, and to give a tran- 
 script of what he saw there. The Sermon 
 is the sixth in the first volume, and the 
 
Ill 
 
 words of the text are from James, ili. 17. 
 ** The wisdom that is from above is gentle." 
 
 In the introdudtion, the preacher does no- 
 thing more than state the importance of his 
 subjed:, and the reasons by which he was 
 led to recommend it to the attention of his 
 hearers. The virtue of gentleness, he tells 
 us, does not hold its due place in the estima- 
 tion of men. Though one which, as Chris- 
 tians, we are bound to cultivate, yet it is 
 degraded by many into a mere external ac- 
 complishment, and considered as a mark for 
 covering what is offensive in manners. With 
 a view to corredl such false notions. Dr. Blair 
 proposes to explain the nature of the virtue, 
 and offers some arguments to recommend, 
 and some diredions to facilitate, the prac- 
 tice of it. 
 
 The virtue of gentleness is defined with 
 uncommon precision. It is distinguished 
 from that passive tameness, and unlimited 
 complaisance, which form the charader of 
 a sycophant, and which are destructive of 
 every thing like steadiness of principle. It 
 is described as that branch of charitv which 
 
112 
 
 makes us unwilling to give pain to any of 
 our brethren. Theie is no particular period 
 at which its exercise is more proper than 
 another. It should diffuse itself habitually 
 over our whole behaviour, and regulate both 
 our speech and our adlions. 
 
 After separating gentleness from that mean- 
 ness of spirit which is unworthy of a man. 
 Dr. Blair distinguishes it from that artificial 
 courtesy which is learned in the school of 
 the world. As this last has not its seat in 
 the heart, it can never render external man- 
 ners pleasing. It is the snare employed by 
 the artful, when they mean to entrap the un- 
 wary, and the cloak of the unfeeling, when 
 they would disguise their intrigues against 
 the innocent and unsuspicious. True gen- 
 tleness, on the other hand, is said to be na- 
 tive feeling, heightened and improved by 
 principle. It is as unwilling to inflid, as it 
 is i; idy to heal, a wound. While it seeks 
 to p'^ase, it is unwilling to dazzle, and con- 
 ceals every ground of superiority which 
 mi^at be oppressive to those beneath it. 
 
113 
 
 The pradtice of gentleness is recommend- 
 ed, from considering the duty which we owe 
 to God. That greatness, which is conspi- 
 cuous in his works, is softened by the view 
 which he has given of himself in his word. 
 In the character of our Saviour, no point is 
 so prominent as his gentleness and conde- 
 scension. In his access, he was easy ; in 
 his manners simple; in his answers, mild. 
 Do we pretend resped: for his religion, while 
 we indulge that harshness and severity which 
 are so contradictory to its genius ? If so, we 
 may retain the Christian name, but we have 
 abandoned the Christian chara<fter. 
 
 The practice of gentleness is recommend- 
 ed, also, from considering the relation we 
 bear to one another. As society is essen- 
 tial to human happiness, gentleness is the 
 duty which man owes to man. The con- 
 temptuous and hard-hearted revolt against 
 their own nature, by foolishly refusing to 
 others those attentions which they may be 
 obliged to solicit in their turn. It is in the 
 
 ^5 
 
114 
 
 ordinary intercourse of life that gentleness 
 shews itself. Great situations call for great 
 virtues ; but the virtue recommended is 
 formed and supported, not by unfrequcnt 
 ad:s, but by daily exertions. 
 
 Last of all, the pradice of gentleness is 
 recommended from the consideration of our 
 own interest. It is the quality which makes 
 a man rise in the world without struggle, 
 and flourish without envy. One of this 
 description enjoys a tranquillity that is ne- 
 ver disturbed. Viewing with indulgence 
 the omissions of the careless, the follies of 
 the imprudent, and the levity of the fickle, 
 he retreats as into the calmness of his own 
 spirit, and allows the current of life to hold 
 its course. 
 
 The pradice of gentleness is facilitated, 
 by examining our own charader, and learn- 
 ing what indulgence we may need. How 
 can we entreat that forbearance from heaven 
 which we deny one another ? Can we look 
 for clemency from our Judge, when we re- 
 fuse it to our brethren ? We are to refled. 
 
115 
 
 too, on the trivial nature of those objeds, 
 which often excite contention. When the 
 cause of animosity is gone, its eifefts often 
 remain ; and had violence been restrained for 
 a moment, these effects had never existed. 
 We are, above all things, to regard this 
 world as but a state of passage, and keep at 
 a due distance from those grating objeds 
 which every where surround us. Our minds 
 will then become calm and sedate, and we 
 shall treat with the mildness of a superior 
 nature, what in little minds would call forth 
 the bitterness of passion. 
 
 As the sentiment is more than ordinarily 
 correal in this sermon, so is the language. 
 Both flow with uncommon ease, and mark 
 strongly the author's distinguished talents 
 for the eloquence of the pulpit. At the 
 beginning of his last head he says, '* We 
 are rigorous to offences, and unfeeling to 
 distress." The purity of the expression, 
 ** rigorous to offences," may be doubted. 
 The term offenders seems the proper cor- 
 relative to rigorous. The uniformity of the 
 
116 
 
 antithesis, besides, might have been equally 
 well preserved by opposing the participle 
 distressed to the adjedlive unfeelin^y and the 
 whole would have stood thus : '* We are ri- 
 gorous to offenders, and unfeeling to the 
 distressed.'' 
 
 Under the same head there is a simile, in 
 which the resemblance seems to be rather 
 far pursued. '' Easily, and from the smallest 
 chink, the bitter waters of strife are let 
 forth 'y but with difficulty is their course 
 restrained; and when once they begin to 
 flow, they never fail to poison his cup, 
 who was the first to give them passage." 
 The purpose of the comparison appears to 
 be served by the two first clauses of this 
 sentence, in which the waters are said to 
 be obeying their natural law. In the third, 
 a new conception is introduced, and, by a 
 motion in these waters not easily under- 
 stood, they are conceived to punish the per- 
 son said to have first given them passage, and 
 to be then doomed to drink them. 
 
117 
 
 Though some objedion may be brought 
 to this figure, yet others in the sermon will 
 bear the closest examination. The condi- 
 tion of the earth, if gentleness were ba- 
 tiished from it, is beautifully described: — 
 ** The solitude of the desert were prefer- 
 able to it. The conflidl of jarring elements 
 in chaos ; the cave, where subterraneous 
 winds contend and roar ; the den, where 
 serpents hiss, and beasts of the forest howl, 
 would be the only proper representations of 
 such assemblies of men.'* 
 
 When the preacher is talking of the ha- 
 bitual influence of gentleness, he with great 
 vigour and delicacy of imagination, tells us, 
 *^ That its exertions must not be like the 
 bljze of the comet, but regular in its re- 
 turns, like the light of day; not like the 
 aromatic gale, which sometimes feasts the 
 sense, but like the ordinary breeze, which 
 fans the air, and renders it healthful." The 
 beauty of these comparisons must strike 
 every reader. A squeamish critic may per- 
 haps find fault wnth the expression, " fans 
 
118 
 
 the air." As the air is the fanning sub- 
 stance, it is not easy to see liov/ it is to 
 operate upon itself. That which receives 
 and resists the agitation, however gentle, 
 must be understood to be grosser than the 
 fluid which undergoes it. Take this ser- 
 mon upon the whole, however, and it may 
 well be regarded as a masterpiece in its way, 
 and as one of the best that ever came from 
 the pen of its elegant author. 
 
 The twelfth Sermon of the fifth volume 
 w^as the last Dr. Blair composed for pub- 
 lication, though not the last in the volume 
 of which it forms a part. Nothing, either 
 in the sentiment or composition, betrays 
 any failure in his powers. The same vir- 
 tuous sensibility and discernment of the 
 human charader, which marked his early, 
 marks also his advanced years. He re- 
 tained to the last the art of instrudling, and 
 even reproving, the thoughtless, and, at the 
 same time, of convincing them that he was 
 really their friend. 
 
119 
 
 The sermon to which we now refer has 
 its text in Proverbs, xiv. 13. *' Even in 
 laughter the heart is sorrowful ; and the 
 end of til at mirth is heaviness." 
 
 The intention of the preacher is to prove, 
 that those who propose to themselves the 
 unlimited enjoyment of pleasure, mistake 
 the nature of human life, and the condi- 
 tion upon which it was bestowed; that they 
 vainly attempt to counteradl the decree of 
 Providence, and to render their state upon 
 earth what it was never designed to be. 
 For this purpose he considers, in the first 
 place, the obvious consequences of a life of 
 dissipation, upon health, fortune, and cha- 
 rafter. The first, he tells us, the most va- 
 luable of all human blessings, is readily sa- 
 crificed at the shrine of pleasure -, and hence, 
 if life is not shortened, comes the deblHtated 
 body, and the premature old age. No for- 
 tune, however affluent, can resist the efFedls 
 of profusion in those, by whom prudent 
 economy is disdained as a mean attention. 
 They become the prey of the crafty, wlio 
 
120 
 
 fatten on their spoils, and see nothing re- 
 maining to them but the ruins of a broken 
 fortune. As the charader of the dissipated 
 man is necessarily conspicuous, it is marked 
 at once, and rigorously condemned. The 
 respedtable and the grave smile at his follies, 
 and avoid his company. He thus either 
 dv^indles into insignificance, or shines in 
 those fashionable assemblies only, in which 
 it is a disgrace to be seen. 
 
 If dissipation be thus ruinous to the ex- 
 ternal condition, it is shewn, in the next 
 place, to be no less so to the morals of 
 men. The seeds of virtue are soon destroy- 
 ed by those insidious steps with which the 
 love of pleasure advances. Nothing is re- 
 garded but present enjoyment, and plans 
 of improving on that enjoyment m future. 
 Then is the creditor defrauded, the tenant 
 is racked, and friends are plundered. Re- 
 course is had to the gaming table, as the 
 last means of supplying unbounded ex- 
 pense. To how many bad passions, and 
 
121 
 
 liow many base arts, does this give rise? 
 The wretch, that sits down at this fatal ta- 
 ble, full of eagerness and hope, rises hag- 
 gard and forlorn, cursing his fate, and threat- 
 ening, perhaps, to end that existence, which 
 is odious even to himself. 
 
 Besides, the pleasures of the dissipated 
 are never found to be unmixed. That sense 
 of propriety, which is borne down by pas- 
 sion, though it cannot guide them to what 
 is right, still makes them sensible of their 
 doing wrong. That conscience, which is 
 too feeble to diredt, is still able to sting 
 them. In the midst of their riot, spedres 
 haunt their imagination, and poison their 
 joys. The very portraits of their ancestors 
 seem to frown on that licentious waste, which 
 scatters the fortune which their virtues had 
 acquired. 
 
 Last of. all, dissipation is shevvn to be 
 unsuitable to the condition of man, and 
 injurious to society. The mirth of the li- 
 centious forces the widow and the father- 
 less to weep. To supply their oppressive 
 i6 
 
122 
 
 demands, families are driven from their ha- 
 bitations, and consigned to poverty. The 
 poor murmur when the rich revel in waste- 
 ful excess, and issue from their homes, pre- 
 pared, by those pretended friends who would 
 mislead them, for every evil work. 
 
 Dr. Blair ends his sermon with observing, 
 that his admonitions refer to those in the 
 middle, as much as to those in the highest 
 ranks of life. The modes of amusement 
 enjoyed by the former may not be so re- 
 fined, and their enjoyments may be grosser. 
 Among them, however, there prevails as 
 much proportionate extravagance, as much 
 rivalry in the competitions of passions, as 
 in the most fashionable circles. To serve 
 God, then, to attend to the serious cares of 
 life, and to discharge faithfully the duties of 
 our station, are the first concerns of every 
 good man ; and amusement and pleasure are 
 to be regarded as the relaxation, not as the 
 business, of life. 
 
 Dr. Finlayson, speaking of this sermon, 
 in the very able, though short, Life of Dr. 
 
123 
 
 Blair, annexed to the last volume which he 
 published, says, with much justice, that "it 
 is written with great dignity and eloquence; 
 and should be regarded as his solemn part- 
 ing admonition to a class of men, whose 
 condud: is highly important to the com-^ 
 munity, and whose reformation and virtue 
 he had long laboured most zealously to pro- 
 mote." 
 
 Though this discourse was written when 
 the author was far advanced in life, yet it 
 discovers nothing like a decay either of ia- 
 telleft or of fancy. The method adopted 
 is as stridtly logical, and the compositions 
 as animated as ever. No single concep- 
 tion, from the beginning to the end of the 
 sermon, appears to be improperly intro- 
 duced ; and each holds that exadt place 
 which belongs to it as a part of the whole. 
 The comparisons, which are frequent, are 
 just, and elucidate the subjedl they are 
 meant to explain. When the purpose of 
 explanation is served by them, the author 
 stops, and makes no demand upon the ima- 
 
124 
 
 gination of the reader, which is not willinoily 
 granted. Even in those metaphors which 
 iipproach each other in point of suhjedl, 
 there is no mixture ; but the chaste ele- 
 gance of the preacher makes each run in its 
 own trac^t, however thinly separated from 
 that of the rest. Pleasure, he tells us, not 
 regulated by temperance, is no more than 
 a momentary explosion, a transient gush, 
 a torrent that comes down impetuously, 
 sparkling and foaming in its course, but 
 which soon runs out, and leaves a muddy 
 and polluted channel. The gush and the 
 torrent a2:ree in referrinof to the violent 
 emission of water, and to the shortness of 
 its duration^ but the former is confined to 
 no channel, and leaves nothing offensive 
 when it is gone. 
 
 The last Sermon which Dr. Blair com- 
 posed and delivered, was that preached be- 
 fore the Society for the Benefit of the Sons 
 of the Clergy. It was with some diffi- 
 culty that his friends prevailed upon him to 
 perform this service to the church. Feel- 
 
ing the infirmities of old age, which had 
 made him retire from the labours of his 
 pulpit, he was afraid that, in this last ef- 
 fort, he might both disappoint the expec- 
 tations of the public, and be of less use to 
 the society, than other preachers then in the 
 vigour of life. 
 
 In the choice of a text for the occasion he 
 appears to have been fortunate. It is taken 
 from Jeremiah, xlix. 1 1 . *' Leave thy fa- 
 therless children, I will preserve them alive, 
 and let thy widows trust in me." 
 
 Some observations upon the goodness of 
 God, form the subjedl of the introdu(5tion. 
 — Throughout the world, he says, there is 
 no ins tan', e of mere pomp and useless gran- 
 deur, but every thing ministers to the ge- 
 neral good. The compassion of the Deity, 
 which is the exercise of his goodness to- 
 wards the distressed, is said to be an attri- 
 bute upon which the Scriptures dwell. The 
 obje6t of the preacher is to inquire, why 
 God is pleased to represent himself so often 
 to us under tliis view. Such discoveries 
 
126 
 
 are said to serve two important purposes : 
 They furnish partieular ground of trust ia 
 God, amidst all the vicissitudes of humaa 
 life; and they exhibit the pattern of that 
 disposition which we ought, in our mea- 
 sure, humbly to follow and imitate. 
 
 Compassion, under the fir.'^t head, is said 
 to be that attribute of the Almighty which 
 gives a softening to what is awful in his 
 nature, and fits him to be the objed: of our 
 trust. It is in man the most benevolent of 
 his instincts ; and the behef of its existence 
 in the Deity, saves us from being oppressed 
 with his greatness. In the exercise of it 
 among men, it is accompanied with pain- 
 ful emotions, which cannot exist in the 
 supreme Being. In him there can be no 
 struggle of feelings, no fluctuation of pur- 
 pose. His benignity, undisturbed by aay 
 violent emotion, ever maintains the same 
 tranquil tenor, like the unruffled serenity 
 of the highest heavens. The same princi- 
 ple which prompts the Almighty to regard 
 our natural and external distresses, extends 
 
127 
 
 also to those that are spiritual. It was this 
 which moved him, in the work of our re- 
 demption, to feel for the wretchedness of a 
 fallen race. 
 
 Such a discovery of the divine nature 
 not only furnishes ground of confidence, 
 but is, in the second place, said to exhibit 
 a pattern, which we are bound to imitate 
 so far as we can. We are desired to be 
 merciful, as our Father in heaven is merci- 
 ful. Compassion is said to be the charac- 
 ter under which the Almighty chuses to be 
 known. He hath taken up the cause of 
 the distressed, and stated himself as the 
 antagonist of those that would bear them 
 down. Without affedlions of benevolence, 
 and works of mercy, the system established 
 in the universe must cease. Between the 
 high and the low there is a mutual depen- 
 dence. Each, in one way or other, calls 
 on each for aid. Even among savage and 
 uncultivated nations, the energy of com- 
 passion is felt, and its claims are recognized 
 ana obeyed. 
 
128 
 
 After establishing the two points laid 
 down in his metho- -, Dr. Blair comes to ad- 
 dress his audience upon the subjc6t of their 
 meeting. In the 54th year of his minis- 
 try, when advanced age may be supposed 
 to have corrected the prejudices, and to 
 have cooled the ardour, of partiality, he 
 declares his convidlion, that there exists no 
 where a more respedable and useful class 
 of men than the clergy of Scotland. Ex- 
 ceptions, he allows, may exist in so nume- 
 rous a body; but in general, while they * 
 edify the lowest, they acquire respect from 
 the higher classes of men. The provision 
 allowed them from the public may raise them 
 above contempt, but is inadequate to the 
 purpose of educating a numerous family, and 
 giving them a footing in the Vv^orld. 
 
 With a view to stimulate the generosity 
 of those who heard him. Dr. Blair repre- 
 sents an aged clergyman in a situation that 
 is not entirely ideal, but may sometimes 
 exist. He desires them to figure such a 
 man, surrounded with a familv of children. 
 
129 
 
 to whom his chief care had been devoted, 
 and in whom his heart had been bound 
 up. He is supposed to have cheerfully 
 expended his scanty stores, in giving all the 
 advantage to their education, which his own 
 village, or the nearest county town, could 
 yield. But the time of preparation is finish- 
 ed, and these children have to go forth into 
 a world which to them is unknown. Some 
 of their father's friends have been laid ia 
 the dust, and others have become insolent 
 through prosperity. With tears in his eyes, 
 he gives them his blessing as they depart, 
 and commits them to the protection of their 
 father's God. How happy if suth a voice 
 reached him : — " Leave thy fatherless chil- 
 dren ; I will preserve them alive ; and let thy 
 widow trust in me." 
 
 The preacher concludes his sermon with 
 a short account of the Society, and men- 
 tions the beneficent purposes of its mana- 
 gers when its funds shall have increased. 
 He states the signal success with which the 
 sons of Scots clergymen have filled several 
 
 17 
 
13.0 
 
 important departments of society. He bids 
 his audience observe, that some of the first 
 scholars, lawyers, and judges, who have 
 adorned the country, and of those who rank 
 high in the commercial, the military, and 
 the naval professions, were born and bred 
 under the humble roof of a minister. He 
 tells them, that by a seasonable generosity, 
 they may be now ripening in secret the seeds 
 of future genius, and giving the virtuous, 
 who need proteftion, a fair advantage over 
 those in whom opulence supercedes labour, 
 encourages indolence, and perhaps fosters 
 dissipation. 
 
 If we consider, that the author of this 
 sermon was in the seventy-ninth year of his 
 age when he composed it, it must strike us 
 to have been, even in him, an extraordinary 
 effort. He discovers in it a correctness of 
 thought, and an order and delicacy of feel- 
 ing, which few men possess even in the vi- 
 gour of life. In his introduftion, he anti- 
 cipates nothing which should be reserved 
 for the body of his discourse; and thus 
 
131 
 
 shews, that his Inventive talent was undi- 
 minished : In his division of his subjed:, 
 he is simple and logical; and thus shews, 
 that he could yet view and arrange it with 
 philosophic precision : In the argumenta- 
 tive part, he reasons forcibly; and thus 
 shews, that he knew both the strength of 
 the ground he had seized, and the means 
 of defending it from any attack. In the 
 narrative part, he is concise and perspicu« 
 ous ; and appears free from that tedious ver- 
 boseness, which embarrasses without eluci- 
 dating, and is often the concomitant of old 
 age : In his peroration, he is animated and 
 persuasive; and still possesses the art of 
 knowing when and how to take leave of 
 his audience, and what are the precise Im- 
 pressions that should exist when he re- 
 treats. 
 
 This last exertion, then, will bear to be 
 compared with some of the best that pre- 
 ceded it. If there is any failure in it at 
 all, it lies in the part that is properly the 
 pathetic. When he was a younger man. 
 
13^ 
 
 he might have perhaps wrought up the 
 description of the aged clergyman taking 
 leave of his children with more art, and 
 painted with a more glowing pencil the 
 feeling of both at this trying interview. In 
 his beautiful sermon upon the charadler of 
 Joseph, he is pathetic in a higher degree. 
 The feelings of the statesman, and of his 
 brethren, both before and after he was 
 known to them, are drawn by a master 
 who had studied the human heart through- 
 out all its windings. Even the most deli- 
 cate emotion he traces to its proper source.; 
 and we see at once the magnanimity of 
 Joseph, and the terror of his guilty brethren, 
 tempered with admiration of his worth. The 
 interview between the clergyman and his 
 children, as it does not exclude fiditious 
 circumstances, would have admitted a co- 
 louring which the fads related of Joseph, 
 as real history, do not. Of course, it pre- 
 sented a subjed: that might have been more 
 easily embellished, and which made a small- 
 
133 
 
 er demand upon the talents of the author, to 
 clothe it in its native tenderness. 
 
 The composition of the sermon is in every 
 way worthy of its author. He is in it, as 
 usual, temperate in the use of figures, and 
 chaste in those which he adopts. His lan- 
 guage is elegant and corred; so that no- 
 thing is to be found in it, to which the 
 most squeamish critic could objed:. He is 
 said to have delivered the sermon with un- 
 common spirit. His audience was one of 
 the most numerous and respedable that 
 the country could furnish. Numbers as- 
 sembled from all quarters, to witness the 
 last exhibition of this celebrated preacher, 
 and heard that voice with admiration, mixed 
 with regret, which they were sure they 
 should hear no more. 
 
 After considering so many sermons, which, 
 with a few circumstances only excepted, 
 may be deemed excellent in their kind, we 
 may perceive the different ideas formed by 
 French and English preachers, as to the 
 doquence of the pulpit. The French 
 
134 
 
 preacher generally addresses the imagina- 
 tion and passions ; rouses his audience by 
 an animated harangue ; and is at more 
 pains to embelhsh a few thoughts thinly 
 spread out, than to exhibit any rich variety 
 of sentiment. The English preacher, on 
 the other hand, who is often of a temper 
 more cold and phlegmatic, tries to accom- 
 plish his purpose by very different means. 
 He regards his hearer as an intellectual, ra- 
 ther than as a sensitive, being. Feeling his 
 own metaphysical power, he may trust too 
 much to that of his audience ; and may 
 suppose them able to follow what, in fadl, 
 they do not apprehend. He is more anxious 
 to convince than to persuade them, and 
 looks for a higher and more permanent ef- 
 fedl, from influencing the understanding 
 than the heart. The French preachers 
 complain of the English mode of preach- 
 ing, as ill suited to produce its highest 
 ejfFe6i:s. ^' Les sermons cbez les Angloisy sont 
 des discussions metaphysiques^ plus convenabk 
 
135 
 
 a une acadamie quaux asset7iblees popiilaires 
 qui se forment dans nos temples,''"^ 
 
 Between the extremes of English accu- 
 racy and French animation, the model of 
 a perfed: sermon is perhaps to be found. 
 He who can blend these together success- 
 fully, and in their due proportions, seems 
 destined for eminence in the line of a 
 preacher. As the emotions which he ex- 
 cites rests not upon feverish sensibility, they 
 do not perish as soon as they exist. They 
 may be laid hold of as instruments of per- 
 suasion, that are fitted to leave behind 
 them a lasting efFedt. The person, too, 
 whose understanding is thus satisfied, does 
 not acquiesce in his convi(5tion, as if it arose 
 from a mathematical proof. It stimulates 
 to adtion with a well-regulated impulse; and 
 while it adds to the wisdom of the hearer, 
 it imparts to him both the desire and the 
 power of turning that wisdom to the advan- 
 tage of society. 
 
 * Rhetoiique Fiancoi?e, par M. Crevier, Tom. I. p. ij;4. 
 
136 
 
 One great excellency of Dr. Blair's Ser- 
 mons is, that they discover more animation 
 than those of most of the English preachers, 
 and less than those of most of the French. 
 Bold as his conception and language often 
 are, they seem to be always under his con- 
 trol. The figures which he employs are 
 seen at once to have a foundation in nature, 
 and rarely is any one of them pushed too 
 far. The most vivid emotions which he 
 ever excites in his hearers, imply no sus- 
 pension of that reason which is required to 
 temper them. His distribution of the sub- 
 jed: is simple and luminous, and each subor- 
 dinate part is found to hold the place that 
 stridlly belongs to it. 
 
 Dr. Blair's superior ability as a preacher 
 rests perhaps upon no circumstance so 
 much as upon the knowledge he had ac- 
 quired of the human heart. This know- 
 ledge he earned by reading the writings of 
 those most deeply skilled in the science -, not 
 from much intercourse with men in the 
 scenes of aitive life. He could make his 
 
137 
 
 hearers perceive their chara6ters in a Hght 
 that was new to them. Leaving to others 
 those general descriptions, which, being ap- 
 phcable ahnost to all, arrest the attention of 
 none, he spoke home to the individual in 
 the language which he understood. He 
 shewed himself to be not only a corredl, 
 but a delicate observer of human nature; 
 and by the beauty and the justness of his 
 execution in the picture at large, could re- 
 concile the spectator to what would have 
 otherwise shocked him. 
 
 If in reading a French sermon it appears 
 to us often florid and enthusiastic, it would 
 do so still more if we heard it delivered. 
 That heat of imagination which led the 
 preachers of France to employ figures of 
 the boldest description, would admit of no- 
 thing in their manner in the least degree 
 cold. In their general method, they affed: 
 a simplicity, by limiting the number of di- 
 visions to two, or at most to three. In the 
 sequel of the discourse, however, they some- 
 times become so minute, as to break its 
 
138 
 
 unity by a needless corredness. Their af- 
 fedation of learning is still more striking. 
 Passages are at times seleded from the an- 
 cient classics, with a view to display the 
 preacher's erudition, rather than to instruct 
 his audience. Large quotations from the 
 Fathers are taken for the same purpose, 
 and a commentary is given upon a senti- 
 ment couched in an unknown language, 
 which the hearers often receive with a blind, 
 and an unprofitable respect. 
 
 In the use which French preachers make 
 of passages of Scripture, they are often not 
 to be justified. They are indeed cramp- 
 ed in their choice of texts, by the custom 
 of taking them from the lesson of the day. 
 The connection between the text and dis- 
 course is thus inconsiderable, and, in spite of 
 the preacher's ingenuity, it is sometimes im- 
 possible to reconcile them. From this fault 
 even the great Massillon is not exempted. 
 He tells us, that the spirit of God cannot 
 become stationary in our hearts, on account 
 of their mutability ; and that, in resped: to 
 
139 
 
 US, it is a rapid and fleeting spirit ; *^ un 
 esprit rapide et passagerJ' In support of 
 this conceit, he quotes that passage in the 
 Psahns, in which the wind is said to pass 
 over the flower of the field, and it is gone. 
 ** Spirit us pertransibit in illoy et non consis- 
 tety' Ps. ciii. i6. One should suppose, that 
 the preacher was here aiming at a species 
 of wit very much out of place. Though 
 the Latin word spiritus may denote both 
 the Spirit of God and the wind, yet this 
 will never justify the absurd transferring of 
 the text, from the blast in the desert to the 
 divine influence upon the human mind. It 
 is no wonder, then, that the French critics 
 complain of their preachers for so childish 
 a practice; and that they cry out, '* que les 
 textes de recriture employes par les predica- 
 teurs doivent etre present is sous leur vraisens^ 
 et non pas tires par force au sujet, par des in- 
 terpretations loucheSy et des allusions arbi- 
 tr aires,'' 
 
 Though such scriptural allusions are more 
 common among the French than any other 
 
140 
 
 set of preachers, yet, even in England, 
 they ere sometimes found to disgrace the 
 dignity of the pulpit. They give to a ser- 
 mon an affeded smartness, which is not 
 its proper character ; and to a preacher, 
 also, an air of foppishness, that does not 
 become him. An analogy that is so unna- 
 tural and forced, weakens the argument in 
 place of supporting it. A judicious hearer 
 listens with impatience to an attempt, by 
 which he understands it is meant to mis- 
 lead him, and, because disgusted with one 
 part of the discourse, he is apt to withhold 
 his approbation from others that may really 
 deserve it. 
 
 In the resped: now mentioned. Dr. Seed 
 fails more frequently than the other Eng- 
 lish preachers, and pursues many allusions 
 to Scripture that are fanciful and strain- 
 ed. Thus, having, in his thirteenth Ser- 
 mon, said, that the universities have justly 
 been called the eyes of the nation, he adds, 
 that if the eyes of the nation be evil, the 
 whole body of it must be full of darkness^ 
 
141 
 
 But although the French preachers some- 
 times fail in these respecSs, they must be 
 allowed to possess uncommon merit. In 
 the management of the bolder figures of 
 rhetoric, to the use of which passion only 
 and strong feeling lead, they discover much 
 art. Their speakers have been at times 
 disconcerted by the efFedts which their ser- 
 mons produced. Voltaire records this fadl, 
 in regard to Massillon, and considers the 
 discourse which made the audience start 
 from their seats, and emit acclamations, as 
 equal to any thing of which ancient or 
 modern times could boast. To the high 
 powers of Massillon, indeed, the French cri- 
 tics in general bear ample testimony. He 
 excels in that quality for which we have 
 found Dr. Blair distinguished ; a deep know- 
 ledge of the world, and of the human heart. 
 This talent he could turn to its most im- 
 portant use. When he wished to be pa- 
 thetic, he could touch the precise string by 
 which the feelings of his audience were to 
 be roused, and he knew the very point at 
 
142 
 
 which those feelings should stop. In his 
 cornposition, besides, there is much ease ; 
 and, while he is pleasing every reader with 
 the elegance of his language, it seems to be 
 without effort. 
 
 In spite of the high accomplishments 
 which Massillon must be allowed to pos- 
 sess as a preacher, some of the French 
 critics have given Bourdaloue the prefer- 
 ence. To the latter they ascribe more 
 depth, and a greater talent for solid and 
 acute reasoning. It would be difficult, 
 however, to shew instances in which Mas- 
 sillon has failed in the talent mentioned; 
 and, supposing any defecft in intelledual 
 discernment to exist, it would be more than 
 compensated by the superior brilliancy of 
 his fancy. Bourdaloue indeed reasons well; 
 but the subtlety of his argument is often 
 hurt by verbose expression. He is always 
 disposed to dilate, and never to condense 
 his reasoning; and exhibits every prejudice 
 of a Catholic in the most striking colours. 
 He quotes the Fathers in a degree ap- 
 proaching to pedantry; and is at all times 
 
143 
 
 less disposed to instrucft his audience than to 
 set off his learning. Massillon and Bourda- 
 loue may well be allowed to have been the 
 ornament of the French pulpit, and to have 
 carried the art of preaching an uncommon 
 length. Of the two, however, we hold the 
 first to have been the greater performer, and 
 regard him as a model which may be more 
 safely imitated. 
 
 Saurin holds the same place among the 
 French Protestant divines, which the two 
 now mentioned do among the Roman Ca- 
 tholic. He, too, is abundantly ostentatious 
 of his learning, and refers, not only to the 
 works of the Fathers, but to those of the 
 ancient classics, both Greek and Latin. 
 Though copious, he is less apt to fatigue his 
 hearers than Bourdaloue. He writes with 
 the ease of a man who thinks for himself, 
 and feels no need of assistance. In several 
 of his sermons, particularly in the second 
 of the second volume, " Siir Flmmensite de 
 DieUy' he shews much talent for discrimi- 
 nation. Of this superiority, however, he 
 
144 
 
 seems rather too conscious, and courts occa- 
 sions of making a display better suited to 
 excite the admiration, than to promote the 
 improvement, of his hearers. 
 
 The eloquence of Bossuet, bishop of 
 Meaux, is inferior to that of none of the 
 preachers already mentioned. His " Orai- 
 sons Fiinebresy' from the solemnity of their 
 subjedt, lead him to use personifications, 
 apostrophes, and such rhetorical figures as 
 require both a bold and delicate hand. 
 His general execution is so masterly, that 
 he seems incapable of attempting what he 
 is unable to efted:. The ardour and viva- 
 city of his genius is fitted for the animated 
 kinds of oratory, which the more corred:, 
 but phlegmatic genius of the British sel- 
 dom leads them to attempt. 
 
 When Bossuet chuses to be pathetic, he 
 employs, with unerring dexterity, the means 
 that fit him to be so. Every circumstance 
 in resped to time, to place, to charader, 
 is touched as it should be; and upon no 
 one of these does he dwell longer than its 
 
145 
 
 importance deserves. In his funeral ora- 
 tion upon the death of the Duchess ot Or- 
 leans, which is justly considered as the 
 most highly finished, he breaks out in the 
 following pathetic terms : *' J'etois done en- 
 core destine a rendre ce devoir funebre a la 
 tres haute et tres puissant e Princesse Henriette 
 Anne d Anglet err e, Duchesse d' Orleans. Elle, 
 que favois viie si attentive pendant que je 
 rendois le meme devoir a la Reine sa mere, 
 devoit etre sitot apres le sujet dun disc ours 
 semblable ^ et ma triste voix etoit reservee a ce 
 dtp lor able minis t ere, — vanite! O neant I 
 O TJiortels ignorajis de leiirs destinees I Ueut 
 elk crii il y a dix moix ? Et vous, Messieurs, 
 eussiez vous penses, pendant quelle versoit 
 tant de larmes en ce lieu, quelle du sitot 
 vous y r assembler pour la pleurer elle ?ne?ne ? 
 Princesse, le digne ohjet de t admiration de 
 deux grands royaumes, ri etoit ce pas assez 
 que T Angle t err e pleurdt votre absence sans 
 etre encore reduite a pleurer votre mort ? Et 
 La France, qui vous revit avec tant dejoie 
 environnee d' un nouvel eclat riavoit-elle plus 
 
 19 
 
146 
 
 ifa^^re^ pompes et d'autres triomphes pour 
 vo tSy a ■ ret our de ce voyage fameuXy d'ou 
 vous aviez retnporte tant de gloire^ et de si 
 belles esperances ? Vanite des vanites I et tout 
 est vanite I C'est la seule parole qui me reste : 
 cest la seule rejlexion que 7ne permet dans tin 
 accident si etrange, une si juste, et si sensible 
 douleur** 
 
 At the conclusion of his oration upon 
 the death of the Prince of Conde, Bossuet 
 gives a specimen of pathetic eloquence, 
 which is indeed a masterpiece 5 and his apo- 
 strophe to the deceased prince, at the end^ 
 has the happiest effeft. The passage is 
 too long for insertion, but it deserves to be 
 examined. Our English preachers rarely 
 attempt any thing so bold, and seldom 
 bring their hearers to that state of high 
 animation in which they could easily bear 
 
 it- 
 Bishop Sherlock, at the conclusion of 
 
 the ninth sermon of his first volume, gives 
 
 a beautiful instance of personification, and 
 
 carries the figure as far as could with pro- 
 
147 
 
 priety be done. The passage is as follows ; 
 '^Go to your natural religion : Lay before 
 her Mahomet and his disciples, arrayed in 
 armour and in blood, riding in triumph 
 over the spoils of thousands and tens of 
 thousands, who fell by his victorious sword : 
 Shew her the cities which he set in flames, 
 the countries which he ravished and de- 
 stroyed, and the miserable distress of the 
 inhabitants of the earth. When she has 
 viewed him in this scene, carry her into 
 his retirements : Shew her the prophet's 
 chamber, his concubines and wives ; let 
 her see his adultery, and hear him allege 
 revelation and his divine commission, to 
 justify his lust and his oppression. When 
 she is tired with this prospect, then shew 
 her the blessed Jesus, humble and meek, 
 doing good to all the sons of men, patient- 
 ly instructing both the ignorant and the 
 perverse. Let her see him in his most re- 
 tired privacies- let her follow him to the 
 mount, and hear his devotions and suppli- 
 cations to God. Carry her to his table, to 
 
148 
 
 view his poor fare, and hear his heavenly 
 discourse. Let her see him injured, but 
 not provoked : Let her attend him to the 
 tribunal, and consider the patience with 
 which he endured the scoffs and reproaches 
 of his enemies. Lead her to his cross, and 
 let her view him in the agony of death, 
 and hear his last prayer for his persecu- 
 tors, * Father, forgive them, for they know 
 not what they do.* When natural religion 
 has heard both, ask. Which is the prophet 
 of God? But her answer we have already 
 had; when she saw part of this scene^ 
 through the eyes of the centurion who at- 
 tended at the cross, by him she spoke and 
 said, truly this man was the son of God." 
 
 The liigh taste with which this figure is 
 conducfled, could hardly have been looked 
 for, from the general strain of the reverend 
 prelate's composition. In point of solidity 
 of matter, of acuteness of reasoning, and 
 of a manly and forcible expression, few, if 
 any, of his cotemporaries could rival him. 
 The highest elegance of composition, how- 
 
149 
 
 ever, does not present itself; and yet wt 
 occasionally meet with a figure introduced 
 and supported with such taste, as would adorn 
 any piece of eloquence whatsoever. 
 
 The eloquence of Flechier is of a more 
 temperate kind than that of Bossuet. Though 
 possessing great powers as an orator, he ap- 
 pears to be more disposed, and better able, 
 to restrain them, and must have carried his 
 hearers more generally along with him. 
 His ** PanegyriqueSy' like the " Oraisons 
 Funebres" of Bossuet, record the virtues of 
 men of eminence after their death. In 
 these there is to be found little of that ex- 
 travagant flattery of which Cicero com- 
 plains in the Roman ^^ Laudat tones.'' He 
 draws his charadlers with a very master- 
 ly hand. In the *' Panegyrique de Saint 
 Louisy' you see as clearly the qualities that 
 give eminence to an illustrious monarch, as 
 in that, " I^e Saint T^homas Archeveque dc 
 Canterberryy' you see those that distinguish 
 a persecuted churchman. His Sermons 
 upon ordinary subjefts are rich in matter, 
 
150 
 
 which is clearly his own. He exhibits i; 
 mind that has no need of any resource 
 without itself. Though Dr. Blair's manner 
 approaches nearer to that of Flechier than 
 to that of any of the other French preach- 
 ers, yet it does not appear that the Dodor 
 has borrowed any thing from him. In his 
 Sermon upon the use of afflidtions, you see 
 a preacher deeply interested in the truths 
 which he is enforcing ; but, in the midst of 
 his ardour, treating his subjedl: with a sim- 
 plicity not commonly exhibited in the French 
 pulpit. 
 
 " Les Oeuvres Spirituelles' of Fenelon, 
 Archbishop of Cambray, contain rather 
 loose hints upon a number of religious 
 subjedls, than regular Sermons upon any 
 one. From these hints, however, owing 
 to the manner in v/hich they are thrown 
 together, succeeding preachers may have 
 availed themselves ; and the plagiarism, at 
 the same time, may not have been easily 
 detedied. In his Dialogues upon Elo- 
 quence, the Archbishop shews himiSelf a 
 
151 
 
 great enemy to the division of sermons into 
 heads. Or. Blair differs from him upon 
 this point, both in opinion and in pradice. 
 Among EngUsh preachers, the practice of 
 dividing their discourses is ahnost constant- 
 ly maintained ; and, among the French, 
 the laymg it aside would be productive of 
 the worst of consequences. The latter, 
 from the luxuriance of their imagination, 
 are more apt to deviate from their text; 
 and each head serves as a kind of land- 
 mark, to guide the attention of the hearer, 
 and shews him how each part bears upon 
 the general dodtrine which it is meant to 
 establish. In these Essays of Fenelon's, 
 apostrophes, and quotations from the clas- 
 sics, are as frequent as in the regular dis- 
 courses of the French. They are, on that 
 account, not adopted as subjects of imitation 
 by preachers in this country, who have less 
 constitutional liveliness, and are less disposed 
 to make a shew of their -learning. 
 
 It is certain, that about the same period, 
 that is, during the reign of Louis XIV., 
 
152 
 
 when the most distinguished preachers in 
 France flourished, and before the restora- 
 tion of Charles II. in England, there was a 
 greater similarity between the Sermons of 
 the two countries than afterwards. The Eng- 
 lish preachers encumbered their discourses 
 with scholastic theology, and classical quo- 
 tations; but, in certain parts of them, they 
 roused the feelings of their hearers by pa- 
 thetic addresses. This mode of preaching 
 became unfashionable; and both the pe- 
 dantry and the animation wctq laid aside, 
 as unbecoming the dignity of the pulpit. 
 English preaching became dry and argu- 
 mentative. A sermon was no longer a per- 
 suasive popular oration, but approached 
 to a cold metaphysical essay, in which 
 man is treated as a being of pure intelledt, 
 and as devoid of imagination and passion. 
 Had the hearer of such a sermon been ig- 
 norant of his duty, he would have been 
 ably instrufted in it ; but were he, as most 
 hearers are, only unwilling to perform it, 
 no means of persuasion were so much 35 
 
15S 
 
 tried. The sermon did not interest the 
 heart; and the audience retired from it, as 
 little disposed to renounce old vices, and 
 to pradise new virtues, as before it was 
 delivered. 
 
 In the powers of abstraft thought and 
 acute reasoning, Dr. Clark, Dr. Barrow, and 
 Bishop Butler, have perhaps no superiors. 
 Respedlable as these powers are, however^ 
 they will not of themselves form accom- 
 plished preachers. Though a false con- 
 ception is screened by none of the embel- 
 lishments of language, yet, by such means 
 only, one that is just and profound gains 
 admission to the heart, and influences the 
 condud:. Those great divines, who have 
 been now mentioned, shew even a super- 
 abundance of logical powers; and, to those 
 who can follow their reasoning, they im- 
 part both instruction and delight. In try- 
 ing to follow their discussions, however, the 
 herd of readers are lost in a maze, from 
 which they can never extricate themselves. 
 By sentiments not accommodated to their 
 20 
 
154 
 
 apprehension, they gain nothing in point 
 either of intelledlual or of moral improve- 
 ment. The great end of preaching fails, 
 when admission to the heart is not courted 
 by those avenues which lead to it ; and the 
 condu<fl of man can be successfully regulated 
 by those only, who know his compound na- 
 ture, and who take him as he is. 
 
 The Sermons of Archbishop Tillotson 
 cannot be held forth as a model, though 
 there is much in them that deserves appro- 
 bation. He is wise enough not to address 
 men as if they were philosophers merely, 
 but to employ in a certain degree the insi- 
 nuation of a popular speaker. His piety 
 is sincere, and is regulated by good sense„ 
 It is to be regretted, however, that his 
 manner is often uninteresting, and but ill 
 fitted to keep up his hearers' attention. 
 His language, at times, wants nerve; and 
 he seems either disposed to grudge the 
 pains needful to polish it, or to have been 
 mistaken in thinking that those pains would 
 have been mispent. 
 
155 
 
 Bishop Atterbury has perhaps come as 
 near the standard, by which a good preacher 
 is to be judged of, as any Enghsh preach- 
 er whatever. In his sentiment he is al- 
 ways rational, and often acute 5 and though 
 the sentiment is not the most profound, 
 yet it is far from being flimsy. His style, 
 though occasionally careless, exhibits much 
 elegance and purity. In a critical examina- 
 tion of his Sermon upon ** Thanksgiving," 
 Dr. Blair does him ample justice, and shews 
 nothing of the jealousy of a rival. Other 
 Sermons of his seem to deserve equal com- 
 mendation, particularly that concerning the 
 miraculous propagation of the gospel. 
 
 Such are the outlines of the charadler of 
 those distinguished preachers, both in Great 
 Britain and France, with whom Dr. Blair 
 is entitled to be compared. Each preach- 
 er, in each country, exhibits, in a certain 
 degree, the merits and the defeds of its 
 style of preaching, as well as those that be- 
 long to himself. We might be accused of 
 
156 
 
 partiality to the country to which Dr. Blair 
 long did honour, were we to affirm, that 
 he had surpassed the splendid beauties of 
 Massillon, Bossuet, and Flechier, or the 
 clear and ingenious reasoning of Clark, 
 Barrow, .and Butler. In the medium be- 
 tween the extremes to which each set may 
 have leant, he seems to have been desirous 
 to find a place. He wished to temper the 
 glow of passion with the coolness of rea- 
 son, and to give such scope only to the 
 imagination of his audience, as would leave 
 the exercise of their judgment unimpaired. 
 He tried to accommodate his discussions 
 to the apprehension of those whom he ad- 
 dressed; and, when called to elucidate the 
 mysteries that bear to be inquired into, he 
 enlivened the dark research by the bril- 
 liancy of a well-regulated fancy. The re- 
 ception which his Sermons have met with 
 throughout Europe, after being translated 
 into different languages, proves equally the 
 merit of the preacher, and the candour of 
 his judges. Even those in this country who 
 
157 
 
 envy his fame, hold it prudent to be silent, 
 and to seem to set every thing like jealousy 
 asicep. They are afraid to encounter that 
 tide of public opinion, by which they ire 
 sure they would be borne down. In France, 
 his Sermons were never said to be inanimate ; 
 nor were they, in Britain, by good judges, 
 said to be superficial. In both countries 
 they have, at once, given pleasure to the 
 gay, and consolation to the serious. By such 
 a mixture of beauty and usefulness, as the 
 world never before witnessed in their line, 
 they have given fashion to a kind of reading 
 H:hat had long been discarded. They have 
 stopped even the voluptuary in his career, 
 and made him leave the haunts of dissipa- 
 tion, that he might listen to the preacher's 
 reproof. 
 
158 
 
 After having viewed Dr. Blair in the 
 capacity of a Critic and a Preacher, we 
 come now, in the last place, to view him 
 in that of a Man. If, in the two first re- 
 speds, he appears to have a right to our ad- 
 miration, he will, in that which follows, 
 discover an equal claim to our love. 
 
 In no situation did Dr. Blair appear to 
 greater advantage than in the circle of his 
 private friends. This circle, however, was 
 not very numerous. Though his benevo- 
 lence was general and extensive, yet he was 
 cautious in bestowing the marks of his 
 esteem. With the foibles of his friends, if 
 venial, he was not apt to be offended. He 
 could make the person who had the weak-- 
 ness, first laugh at it in others, and then 
 bring it home to himself. By a happy mix- 
 ture of gentleness and pleasantry, he gave 
 instnidion without giving offence ^ andj 
 
159 
 
 while indulging a species of wit, in which 
 there was no sarcasm, he seemed happy in 
 curing trifling defeds. 
 
 In his intercourse with his friends, too, 
 he discovered the most amiable condescen- 
 sion. To those whom he esteemed, he 
 committed himself freely, and without re- 
 serve; and he took no liberty with them 
 which he was not ready to grant. By no 
 affected restraint did he ever put them in 
 mind of his superiority, of which, during 
 his social hours, he seemed utterly uncon- 
 scious. Had he thus unbended himself in 
 the presence of strangers, which he never 
 did, they would have been unable to re- 
 concile what they saw with what they heard 
 of him. They would have been like those 
 who beheld Agricola upon his return from 
 Britain, whom Tacitus describes thus : 
 ^^ Multi qucsrerent famam pauci inter pre ta- 
 rentur.'' 
 
 Several of Dr. Blair's acquaintance, par- 
 ticularly females, to whom his company 
 was highly acceptable, felt mortified occa- 
 
160 
 
 sionally, either with his silence, or with his 
 talking upon subjedts that were trivial and 
 common. Either circumstance they con- 
 strued into an involuntary sign of his reck- 
 oning those, with whom he happened to be 
 seated, unworthy of his notice. This con- 
 clusion, however, was far from being just. 
 He was often most attentive to the conver- 
 sation of others, when he spoke least him- 
 self; and he had a singular talent for re- 
 colleding the circumstance, from which he 
 judged of the characfter of each person in 
 a numerous company. When a silent, he 
 was not an inattentive observer. He did 
 not always judge soundly of the people 
 around him ; and was more frequently mis- 
 taken as to their dispositions than their 
 abilities. He had more pleasure in mark- 
 ing the excellencies than the defedls of the 
 charafters he was surveying ; and his si- 
 lence was formidable to those only vvho 
 were strangers to the amiabieness of his 
 heart. 
 
In order to convince the female admirers 
 of Dr. Blair, that he was not supercilious 
 in company, and that he could bear his 
 part in conversation upon any subjedl what- 
 ever, his friends sometimes laid plans that 
 were almost always successful. If they 
 introduced any literary topic upon which 
 they seemed deficient in information, the 
 Dodlor was always ready to give it. Though 
 he scorned that silly parade with which 
 the learned often try to set themselves off, 
 yet, when his knowledge could be useful, 
 it was never withheld. If any new pub- 
 lication was spoken of, that was better 
 known to him than to the rest of the 
 company, he was ready to satisfy the cu- 
 riosity of every body around him. Any 
 misapprehension, whether real or pretend- 
 ed, he was ready to obviate. His critical 
 remarks were, upon such occasions, wor- 
 thy of himself; and his wish to commu- 
 nicate whatever he knew, bore a testuiio- 
 ny, of which he was unconscious, that he 
 was formed for social intercourse, and as 
 
1%2 
 
 amiable in private as he was respedable in 
 public life. 
 
 When Dr. Blair was in company with 
 those in whom he had entire confidence, it 
 sometimes appeared how much he valued 
 the approbation of the world, and how 
 much he was flattered with the uncommon 
 share of that approbation which he had ob- 
 tained. This weakness of his amused rather 
 than offended those who could observe it. 
 He felt, perhaps, that he had earned his 
 fame by means that were entirely fair, and 
 he had no desire to maintain or to increase 
 it by affedted modesty. Being free from 
 every thing like guile and jealousy himself, 
 he was, at times, not aware of their conse- 
 quences in others. The complacency with 
 which he occasionally spoke of himself, 
 was construed by the envious into a ridi- 
 culous vanity. It may have been, how- 
 ever, no more than a just sensibility to de- 
 served applause ; the fruit of an honest sim- 
 plicity of manners, existing in a mind that 
 had nothing to conceal. It may have 
 
16^ 
 
 sprung from what the great historian, just 
 quoted, calls a ^^ Jiducia inorum potius qiia?n 
 
 arrogantta. 
 
 In mixed companies. Dr. Blair generally 
 took but a small part of the conversation. 
 His natural modesty made him averse from 
 obtruding himself upon the notice of others ; 
 and he was more afraid of offending by his 
 loquacity, than of disappointing by his si- 
 lence. The materials of instructive con- 
 versation he possessed in a high degree. 
 But he shewed no desire to add to his conse- 
 quence, by a studied display of these; and 
 he was satisfied with the reputation which 
 he had acquired in his profession. The un- 
 affected simplicity of his manners attraded 
 notice, when the studied formality, and the 
 artifices of many around him, created dis- 
 gust. It gave him a command over the 
 hearts of men, which, as he had acquired 
 without courting it, he had no desire to 
 abuse. It does not appear, that Dr. Blair 
 considered conversation to be the channel 
 by which much instrudion was to be ei- 
 
164 
 
 ther given, or received. The insipid gri- 
 mace, with which the talkative try to give 
 importance to trifles, he bore with impa- 
 tience; and he sought, with eagerness, the 
 society of those, who, by the artless gaiety 
 of their anecdotes, v/hen not too frequently 
 introduced, furnished him with amusement. 
 To the occurrences of the day he listened 
 with avidity; and he was often apt to give 
 them a consequence which they did not 
 possess. He considered the company of his 
 fiiends as the best recreation from his se- 
 rious studies ; and as, while enjoying it, he 
 made no idle display of his own learning, so 
 he witnessed, with uneasiness, such displays 
 upon the part of others. 
 
 In private companies, and particularly in 
 domestic society, he was often most at- 
 tentive to those whom others w^ere apt to 
 neglecl. He had the art of encouraging 
 the diffident, and he knew precisely what 
 degree of notice would be agreeable, and 
 what oppressive to them. He took plea- 
 sure in accommodating his conversation to 
 
165 
 
 young people of every description. By 
 such unexpeded attentions from a man 
 whom they were taught to resped:, he soon 
 gained their confidence, and he saw the 
 early features of their charadters appearing 
 without disguise. He could thus success- 
 fully encourage every sentiment that was 
 amiable, and check whatever was the con- 
 trary. 
 
 The subjeds of conversation upon which 
 Dr. Blair ordinarily dwelt, appeared to ma- 
 ny people so very trifling, as to be almost 
 beneath his notice. Plad he not given un- 
 equivocal proofs of his being able to at- 
 tend to higher objeds, they would hardly 
 have believed him capable of doing so. 
 Upon every matter of taste, however tri- 
 vial, he was ready to give his opinion. 
 Such an objed, as the size, the shape, and 
 the furniture of a room, if in any degree 
 remarkable, never failed to attrad his no- 
 tice. From circumstances unheeded by 
 every body else, he could extrad enter- 
 tainment. No novelty in the dress of others 
 
161) 
 
 passed unobserved by him, and to his own 
 he was scrupulously attentive. In it he 
 exhibited neatness and simplicity, but no- 
 thing inconsistent with the dignity of his 
 profession. Even in advanced life, he re- 
 marked the slightest change in fashions ; 
 and was often among the first to adopt any 
 that pleased him. Such attention to things 
 common and innocent endeared him to his 
 friends, without diminishing their resped. 
 They were pleased to see the man, whom 
 they were accustomed to revere as their in- 
 structor, bordering on an infirmity, which 
 others were apt to indulge to excess. 
 
 Though Dr. Blair was susceptible of flat- 
 tery, and received it with a satisfadion 
 which he was at no pains to hide, yet he 
 was, in a high degree, modest and unassu- 
 ming. The impetuous arrogance by which 
 some would force themselves into conse- 
 quence, he scorned to imitate. He knew 
 perfedly, at the same time, what was due 
 to himself, and would have felt the denial 
 of that attention, which he thought it be- 
 
167 
 
 neath him to court. His uncommon suc- 
 cess in life, and the flattery to which he 
 was daily accustomed, never produced in 
 him the weakness of insolence. He had 
 wisdom enough to see the real grounds of 
 superiority among men. The false claims 
 of the arrogant and the proud he would have 
 scorned to gratify; and while he respe6led 
 those friends only who respeded themselves, 
 he established a dominion in their hearts 
 which nothing could ever shake. 
 
 Though in the highest degree capable of 
 advising others, yet he never did so, but 
 when he knew that it was agreeable to 
 them. An obtruded advice he held as an 
 insult to those to whom it was offered. 
 His opinion, when asked, he gave with 
 diffidence, and he stated carefully the rea- 
 son upon which that opinion was founded. 
 He was more apt to encourage than to 
 mortify the persons consulting him ; and 
 often blamed the timidity which prevent- 
 ed them from judging and ading for them- 
 selves. 
 
168 
 
 After the establishment of the Society for 
 the Benefit of the Sons of the Clergy of 
 Scotland, which took place in 1790, Dr. 
 Blair had been often solicited to preach the 
 annual sermon for that institution, which is 
 delivered during the meeting of the General 
 Assembly. With these requests he could 
 never be brought to comply, though, at the 
 same time, he gave no reason for refusing 
 them. My honoured friends, the Lord Pre- 
 sident, the Lord Chief Baron, and Sir James 
 Stirling, then Lord Provost of Edinburgh, 
 understanding that my influence with him 
 was greater than perhaps it was, requested 
 that I would try to prevail upon him to 
 render the Society what they deemed an 
 essential service. His fame, as a preach- 
 er, they supposed, would procure a crowd- 
 ed audience ; and the power of his elo- 
 quence, by stimulating the liberality of 
 his hearers, would increase the Society's 
 funds. 
 
 It was not without a considerable de- 
 gree of hesitation, that Dr. Blair consented 
 
169 
 
 t6 this proposal. When I first mentioned 
 it to him, he told me, he was afraid that, 
 in the seventy-ninth year of his age, he 
 would be unable to produce any thing, ei- 
 ther creditable to himself, or instrudlive to 
 his audience. Refleding, however, on the 
 possibility of doing an essential service to 
 many indigent and deserving young men, 
 his benevolence prevailed over his fears, 
 and he yielded, at length, to the solicita- 
 tions of his friends. 
 
 From what has been said before of the 
 discourse delivered on this occasion, in 
 which Dr. Blair bade adieu to the labours 
 of the pulpit, it appears, that the native vi- 
 gour of his powers was but little, if at all, 
 impaired. The execution Is worthy of the 
 preacher; and the spirit with which it was 
 delivered, aided the impression which the 
 justness of the sentiment, and the elegance 
 of the composition, would have of them- 
 selves produced. 
 
 As a proof of its excellence, we may add^ 
 that, from the admiration with which this 
 
 32 
 
170 
 
 sermon was heard, the funds of the Societ) 
 derived unexampled benefit. The collec- 
 tion m.ade immediately after it, surpassed 
 what had been ever known; and different 
 sets of hearers vied with each other in the 
 extent of their benevolence. One gentle- 
 man, in particular, shewed involuntarily, 
 that his taste in composition is as high as 
 in the other elegant arts. When leaving 
 the church, he told one of the Elders, that, 
 not being aware of the effefts of Dr. Blair's 
 eloquence, he found he had less money in 
 his pocket than he was disposed to give* 
 Upon going home, he sent a donation ex- 
 tremely honourable to his own feelings, 
 and to the talents of the preacher, by whom 
 they had been so powerfully roused. The 
 efFedl of this sermon, even upon those who 
 read it, was highly beneficial to the Socie- 
 ty. One friend of Dr. Blair's, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of London, who had before sub- 
 scribed liberally to its funds, marked his 
 approbation, upon perusing it, by sending 
 ^.50 in addition. 
 
171 
 
 In the number of those, whose influence 
 prevailed with Dr. Blair to preach his ser-* 
 mon for the sons of the clergy, was Dr. 
 Carlyle of Inveresk. This gentleman, who 
 is lately dead, was among the last who lived 
 in habits of intimacy with Dr. Blair during 
 the whole of his life, and who retained his 
 strongest attachment and regard, to the end 
 of it. To Dr. Carlyle I should have been 
 happy to make my acknowledgments for 
 anecdotes respeding his friend, which no one 
 but himself could have furnished, and for 
 much general assistance in the compilation 
 of this work, which could have been deri- 
 ved from no other source. 
 
 The same amiableness of temper, which 
 led Dr. Blair to overcome his first difficul- 
 ties, with regard to the discourse lately no- 
 ticed, appeared in the ordinary intercourse 
 of life. Though meekness was a predomi- 
 nant feature in his character, yet, even in 
 his well regulated mind, emotions of anger 
 occasionally shewed themselves. He was, 
 at the same time, far from being irritable ; 
 
172 
 
 and if the feeling was ever stVong, it was 
 also transient. A mind endowed with such 
 exquisite sensibilities to whatever was ex- 
 cellent in human nature, must, of necessi- 
 ty, have been also alive to whatever was de^ 
 formed in it. Perfedion in the chara<5ter 
 of man exists only in the imagination of 
 those visionary theorists, who, by flattering 
 his vanity, would undermine his happiness. 
 If his capacity of excellence is over-rated, 
 he is lowered in the scale of being. He 
 becomes the misguided tool of the interest- 
 ed, whose artifices operate, like the drug 
 that intoxicates before it poisons. By a 
 pretended benevolence, but a real misan- 
 thropy, he is exposed to that political, and 
 that personal degradation, from which, the 
 experience of modern times has shewn us, 
 that it is scarcely possible for a nation or an 
 individual to emerge. 
 
 Though Dr. Blair was susceptible of an- 
 ger, yet it approached to nothing that was 
 boisterous, or unworthy of himself. If the 
 sun rarely went down, it still more rarely 
 
173 
 
 rose, upon his wrath. He felt too strongly 
 the force of those dodrines which he in- 
 culcated upon others, to be himself the 
 slave of passion. If the object of his dis- 
 pleasure was not too hastily offended with 
 the severity of his reproof, he would have 
 devised apologies for the person exposed to 
 it. Sentiments of malignity, or revenge, 
 could find no place in his heart. If the per- 
 son who had unfortunately lost, was anxious 
 to regain his favour, he was almost sure 
 to succeed; and he might have afterwards 
 relied upon the sincerity of his friendship 
 with his wonted confidence. What Tacitus 
 says so beautifully of Agricola, was striftly 
 applicable to this amiable man : " Cetermn 
 ex iracundia nihil siipererat : secret urn et si^ 
 lentium ejus non timer es-y honestius putabat 
 offender e qiiam odisseT 
 
 In matters that would have tried the 
 temper of ordinary people. Dr. Blair often 
 exhibited the most dignified calmness and 
 self-command. The common occurrences 
 of life seemed to present to him no field 
 
174 
 
 for the display of his patience. His friends, 
 accordingly, were sometimes mistaken as 
 to the light in which he would view parti- 
 cular actions respecfting himself. To seme, 
 which they regarded as trivial, he attached 
 consequence ; and in others, which they 
 thought unpardonable, he saw nothing to 
 offend. 
 
 When Dr. Blair published his Ledures 
 in 1783, he was desirous that his friends 
 should revise them. He wished to profit 
 by their remarks, and to corred, in a se- 
 cond edition, whatever they might con- 
 vince him was faulty in the first. Among 
 others, he requested the author of this me- 
 moir to peruse the Leftures, which he had 
 often heard delivered ; and to try, particu- 
 larly, to discover any thing in the style 
 that was ungrammatical. Though Dr. Blair 
 had every right to command my services, 
 yet, upon this occasion, I was rather un- 
 willing to grant them. Had I read the 
 book for amusement merely, 'and percei- 
 ved any thing questionable in the Ian- 
 
175 
 
 guage, I should have been disposed rather to 
 suppress than to mention it; and it did not 
 seem to become me to judge of the execution 
 of that master, to whom I owed any critical 
 skill I possessed. My learned friend, how- 
 ever, pressed his request in such terms, that 
 it was impossible to deny it. 
 
 Though I undertook the duty assigned 
 me with reludlance, yet I resolved to per- 
 form it in the best way I could. The can- 
 dour of the learned author of the Lecflures 
 I had often experienced; and if the task 
 were improperly executed, he knew that it 
 was not courted. I ran over the book so 
 quickly at first, in order to catch the 
 thoughts, which, though not new, yet were 
 always agreeable to me, that -the language 
 hardly engaged my attention. Upon the 
 second reading only, I could pass from the 
 idea to the expression, and judge whether 
 the one corresponded with the other ; and 
 I was to mention any expression that ap- 
 peared careless or inaccurate, and any sen- 
 tence in which an alteration in the struc- 
 
176 
 
 ture woujd render the meaning more ob- 
 vious. 
 
 When my investigations began, more 
 things appeared deserving of remark than 
 I at first imagined. Though the list of 
 grammatical inaccuracies, however, swelled 
 upon me considerably, yet I found myself 
 bound, in duty, to communicate it to my 
 honoured friend. The request of Dr. Blair 
 had no appearance of being purely compli- 
 mentary. Had he supposed, that my ob- 
 servations could be of no use to him, he 
 would not have laid his commands on me 
 to furnish them. At all events, I held it 
 equally dishonourable to express approba- 
 tion where I was not pleased, and to conceal 
 what appeared to me faulty. 
 
 As soon as I had transmitted my re- 
 marks to Dr. Blair, he returned me his best 
 thanks for the trouble they must have cost 
 me. He was polite enough to add, that 
 he was happy to find them so copious, as, 
 though he had not then had time to read 
 the whole, he perceived they were such as 
 
177 
 
 he wished them to be. I had afterwards 
 the satisfadtion to find, that my criticism, 
 far from being offensive, was highly accept- 
 able to him. He regretted, that some others, 
 upon whose opinion he depended, had not 
 taken the same trouble. He told me, that 
 he did not agree with me in every instance, 
 but was candid enough to say, that he 
 agreed with me in many more than he 
 could have wished. The number of inac- 
 curacies, which were not to be palliated, 
 he said surprised him. This he ascribed to 
 the hurry in which a number of his Lec- 
 tures had been written when he was appoint- 
 ed to his office ; and he added, that when a 
 composition was careless in its first draught, 
 it was almost impossible afterwards to make 
 it corredb. 
 
 From the anecdote just related, two 
 things may be inferred. The one, that 
 those who supposed Dr. Blair weak enough 
 to think himself superior to error, and to 
 be offended when any error was pointed 
 out, mistook his characfber. The othei: is, 
 23 
 
178 
 
 that when his Leftures were once compo- 
 sed, they engaged little more of his atten- 
 tion. The whole force of his mind was 
 then turned to the composition of those 
 Sermons, which are certainly produdlions 
 of higher merit, and upon the excellence 
 of which it was his intention that his fame 
 should rest. 
 
 It has been before said, that Dr. Blair 
 was fortunate in entering life with a set 
 of people of the most liberal sentiments. 
 No petty jealousies then existed among 
 men of letters, all of whom, when trying 
 to bring themselves forward, far from de- 
 pressing, were ready to assist their neigh- 
 bour. The earliest literary friend with whom 
 Dr. Blair was connedted, was the celebra- 
 ted David Hume. He was a few years 
 younger than the historian, but more near- 
 ly of an age with him, than the rest of those 
 men of genius who at one time adorned 
 this country. However much he disappro- 
 ved of Mr. Hume's tenets in matters of re^ 
 Jigion, yet he respefted him as a man of 
 
179 
 
 .science. Even to the enemy of that cause, 
 which he was disposed from principle, and 
 bound from profession, to support, he could 
 shew a candid liberality. He admired his 
 dignified callousness against the impressions 
 of public folly, when he first appeared as an 
 historian, and foresaw a period when politi- 
 cal prejudice would yield to the force of 
 truth. He enjoyed the liberaHty of his 
 manners as a private friend, and that cheer- 
 fulness of temper which enlivened every cir- 
 cle in which he was a companion. He felt 
 the value of that unsuspicious gaiety, in 
 which there was nothing frivolous, but 
 which was, in him, connected with every ta- 
 lent which mankind are willing to respeft. 
 
 During the time that Mr. Hume attend- 
 ed Lord Hertford upon his embassy to Pa- 
 ris, he was absent from Edinburgh several 
 years. The intimacy was supported by a 
 correspondence, which has unhappily pe- 
 rished. The habits Qf friendship that sub- 
 sisted betwixt Dr. Blair and Dr. Robertson, 
 were much less frequently interrupted than. 
 
180 
 
 those between the former and Mr. Hume. 
 As they were of the same profession, and 
 were members of the same University, the 
 intimacy, which was voluntary on the part 
 of both, was in some degree unavoidable. 
 Whatever diversity existed in the charadler 
 of these two men of letters, it did not prevent 
 them from being intimate friends. Dr. 
 Blair beheld with admiration, talents in Dr» 
 Robertson, which he was conscious of not 
 possessing. He saw, without envy, that ad- 
 dress in the management of business, which 
 would have done honour to a statesman, and 
 which enabled his friends so long to dired 
 the affairs of the Church. He admired that 
 moderation with which he wished to effeft 
 his purposes, and which, with him, was al- 
 most always a successful instrument. He 
 knew the amiableness of his manners in pri- 
 vate life, and respeded that disposition to 
 heal the differences of parties, which he 
 himself possessed in an eminent degree. 
 
 These intimate friends, however, were not 
 satisfied with admiring the talents which each 
 
181 
 
 possessed, whether in common, or other- 
 wise, but availed themselves of that critical 
 skill for which both were distinguished. 
 Neither of them ever presented a work to 
 the public which the other had not revised. 
 Devoid of every thing like jealousy, the re- 
 proof that was given without restraint, was 
 received like the admonition of a friend. 
 Their praises and their censures were alike 
 sincere. Each could make allowance for a 
 friend's partiality ; and could anticipate, from 
 what passed between themselves, the reception 
 which he was to meet with from the public. 
 Dr. Blair's connedion with Dr. Adam 
 Smith was early formed, from a similarity in 
 their literary pursuits. The latter, it has 
 been said, set the example of reading Ledures 
 upon Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, and was 
 the first, in this country, who ever made the 
 attempt. Upon any subjedl, to which the 
 mind of Dr. Smith direded itself, it was ca^ 
 pable of throwing light. A timid inquirer, 
 which Dr. Blair naturally was, felt the be- 
 neiit of such a friend, and gladly availed 
 
himself of every advantage which his com- 
 pany and conversation could afford. 
 
 When Dr. Smith became a member of the 
 University of Glasgow, and still more when 
 he travelled with the Duke of Buccleugh, 
 the intimacy between him and Dr. Blair was 
 necessarily suspended. Upon the return of 
 the former to Edinburgh, the subjedt of his 
 studies had changed. From being purely li- 
 terary, they had become political, and he was 
 about to deliver to the world his work upon 
 the Wealth of Nations. 
 
 It appears, in Dr. Blair's Leftures, that 
 he had had the use of certain manuscripts 
 of Dr. Smith, from which he acknowledges, 
 that he had taken a few hints. When he 
 made the confession, his doing so should 
 have saved him from the charge of plagia- 
 rism. Dr. Blair did not know, that this 
 was urged against him, both by Dr. Smith 
 and his friends. The harmony that subsist- 
 ed between them accordingly suffered no 
 interruption. As few men were less apt to 
 be suspicious than Dr. Blair, so his love for 
 
183 
 
 his friend continued unimpaired till his death. 
 He respeded Dr. Smith as a man of delicate 
 taste, of extensive information, and of pro- 
 found science. Still, however, he w^as not 
 blind to the eccentricities of his charader, and 
 was often amused with the opposite views 
 which he took of the same subjedt, according 
 to the humour in which he happened to be. 
 There is reason to believe, that the ha« 
 bits of friendship between Dr. Blair and 
 Dr. Adam Fergusson were not so close as 
 those between him and the men of letters 
 already mentioned. Still, however, they 
 lived upon intimate terms, and entertained 
 for each other a mutual esteem. The man- 
 liness and liberality of Dr. Fergusson's cha-- 
 rader did not escape his friend's notice, 
 and accorded with that unaffected candour 
 and sincerity which were the ornaments of 
 his own. Though Dr. Fergusson had no 
 desire to derogate from what was due to 
 men of eminence, yet every unreasonable pre- 
 tension he treated with contempt. While 
 Dr. Blair felt the applause of the world 
 
184 
 
 with a keenness that exposed him to the 
 imputation of vanity, he was, at the same 
 time, free from every thing like arrogance. 
 He repaid the attention that was due to 
 him, in a way the most acceptable to 
 those from whom it came. While plea- 
 sed with himself, he had no propensity to 
 be displeased with others, or to make them 
 displeased with themselves. To every thing 
 excellent in his neighbour, he was ready to 
 give his tribute of praise. This part of Dr. 
 Blair*s character was particularly acceptable 
 to Dr. Fergusson. He loved the man who, 
 thoagh beloved by every body around him, 
 took no advantage of his superiority, and in- 
 creased the attachment by being wise enough 
 not to abuse it. 
 
 Few men, perhaps, have commanded the 
 admiration of his friends more generally 
 than Dr. Fergusson. They beheld, in him, 
 the qualities of a high and independent 
 mind, and the total absence of every thing 
 like selfish intrigue. Though a candidate, 
 like others, for literary fame, he had no- 
 
185 
 
 thing of that mean jealousy which has so 
 often been the disgrace of learned men. 
 The gaiety of his manners and disposition 
 made him the delight of every private 
 circle. By this he seized their hearts, 
 ^hile, by a display of talents that was not 
 ostentatious, he commanded therr resped:. 
 No one of his friends formed a more just 
 estimate of his accomplishments than Dr, 
 Blair. Before the public was duly aware 
 of the merit of Dr. Fergusson's writings, Dr. 
 Blair perceived in them a depth of thought, 
 and a force of eloquence, which have now 
 given them that place in its estimation which 
 they are entitled to hold. 
 
 The friendship that subsisted between 
 Dr. Blair and Mr. John Home seems to 
 have been of an early standing. Being 
 both originally bred to the same profes- 
 sion, their habits would be long similar, and 
 many opportunities would present them- 
 selves for their enjoying each other's con- 
 versation. The poetical talents of Mr. 
 Home could not escape the notice of one 
 24 
 
186 
 
 so able to appreciate them as Dr. Blair, 
 In the tragedy of ** Douglas'* ^many splen- 
 did beauties would arrest his attention; 
 and the high merit discovered in the dis- 
 tribution of the piece, would have been vi- 
 sible even to one who had not the partiality 
 of a friend. 
 
 When, to the literary accomplishments 
 of Mr. Home, we add the amiableness of 
 his private character, it needs not surprise 
 us, that he and Dr. Blair were such inti- 
 mate companions. The attachment, ac- 
 cordingly, that began early in their lives, 
 was continued as long as it could exist. 
 During Mr. Home's long residence in Edin- 
 burgh, they had constant opportunities of 
 being together, and both were disposed to 
 improve them. Each discovered a com- 
 placency while in company with the other, 
 that could not escape the notice of any 
 body; and it is certain, that Mr. Home's 
 sentiments of attachment to Dr. Blair, con- 
 tinued invariable to the last. 
 
187 
 
 Those mentioned were the persons with 
 whom Dr. Blair lived in habits of intima- 
 cy, and with whom, during the greater 
 part of his life, he maintained social inter- 
 course. There ^vere others who aded to- 
 wards him both as patrons and friends, ^;iid 
 who were happy to employ that influence 
 which was attached to their situation, in 
 rewarding his merit, and promoting his 
 success. In early life, he was tutor in the 
 family of the last Lord Lovat, and spent 
 one summer in the north country, attend- 
 ing his Lordship's eldest son, afterN^ards 
 General Fraser. In this situation he me- 
 rited the approbation of all concerned with 
 him. That good sense displayed itself in 
 his youth, which was afterwards so conspi- 
 cuous during his whole life. Young as his 
 pupil then was, he perceived his good for- 
 tune in being under such guidance ; and 
 gave early proofs of that discernment of 
 character, in which few out-did him when 
 he advanced to manhood. 
 
188 
 
 This attachment to Dr. Blair seems to 
 have grown with time; and, had the Ge- 
 neral's letters to him not been destroyed, 
 like those of his other correspondents, they 
 would probably have presented something 
 interesting, and worthy of his elegant pen. 
 When General Fraser w^as appointed to 
 the command of the 71st Regiment, he 
 testified his respedt for his old tutor, by 
 making him chaplain to one of its batta- 
 lions. This mark of attention was alto- 
 gether unexpected upon the part of the Doc- 
 tor. He heard the General mentioning at 
 table, to some person, how he had bestow- 
 ed his chaplainship ; and he immedrately 
 asked if it was so. The General answered, 
 that the appointment was made; and add- 
 ed, with great good humour, that, as his 
 Majesty had not been pleased to pre- occu- 
 py his services, by making him one of the 
 Royal Chaplains for Scotland, he felt it a 
 duty incumbent upon him to make him 
 one of his. 
 
189 
 
 There were few people of eminence, in 
 this country, to whom Dr. Blair was more 
 indebted than to the late Chief Baron Orde. 
 His Lordship, in his official capacity, was a 
 regular hearer of the Dodor's sermons while 
 his court sat, and there was no one better 
 qualified to judge of the preacher's merit. 
 This merit, too, was never more conspicuous 
 than when it was honoured with the appro- 
 bation of the venerable judge. Dr. Blair's 
 literary reputation was then thoroughly es- 
 tablished. He was in the vigour of life; 
 and the unwearied labour which he under- 
 went in his closet, while composing his 
 Sermons, was repaid by the admiration of a 
 discerning audience. 
 
 The Chief Baron soon shewed himself 
 none of the inefficient patrons, who amuse 
 those they mean to allow to court their 
 protection, with promises never to be ful- 
 filled. His Lordship's honourable mind 
 felt the obligation he had brought upon 
 himself; and his resped: for the litera- 
 ture of the country, prevented him from 
 
19G 
 
 sporting with the feeHngs of a man who 
 had then done it honour, and who promi- 
 sed to do it more. In private life, he be- 
 stowed upon the learned preacher every 
 mark of his confidence and esteem. He 
 spoke of his Sermons as affording valuable 
 instruction to all, but especially to those 
 who were deaf to every thing not recom- 
 mended by the charms of eloquence. When 
 it was proposed to establish a professorship 
 of Rhetoric in the University of Edinburgh 
 for Dr. Blair, the Lord Chief Baron took 
 an active part in giving effedl to the plan. 
 His Lordship spoke with confidence, be- 
 cause he had felt the energy of those powers 
 which a teacher of rhetoric should possess. 
 To this creditable testimony his Majesty's 
 ministers paid the attention it deserved; and 
 to it the Dodor reckoned himself, in a high 
 degree, indebted for his success. 
 
 But the connection from which Dr. Blair 
 derived most benefit, and which he had it 
 in his pov/er to cultivate for the longest 
 period, was that with Lord Viscount Mel-. 
 
 1 
 
191 
 
 villc. As early as the year 1739, he had 
 dedicated his thesis, " De F imdamentis et 
 Obligatione Legis NatiircCy' to his Lordship's 
 father, then Lord Arniston, and afterwards 
 Lord President of the Court of Session. 
 This event, however, as it took place be- 
 fore Lord Melville's birth, and, as the Lord 
 President died when his son was very 
 young, cannot be understood to have been 
 the foundation of that friendship, with 
 which Dr. Blair felt himself so highly ho- 
 noured. 
 
 When Dr. Blair began to read his Lec- 
 tures, he was fortunate in having hearers 
 that could discover their merit. Among 
 them he could number Henry Dundas, af- 
 terwards Lord Melville; and, from the ar- 
 dour with which his Lordship pursued his 
 studies, his instrudor ventured to predicft 
 the lustre of that career which he was des- 
 tined to run. An attachment, founded 
 upon mutual esteem, could not fail to be 
 permanent. During a great part of his 
 long life. Dr. Blair relied upon the friend- 
 
192 
 
 ship of Lord Melville, and never once re- 
 pented of having done so. His Lordship 
 also found a corresponding steadiness upon 
 the part of the learned man, whom he 
 marked with the most flattering attention, 
 and whose merit he believed he could hardly 
 over- rate. 
 
 The growing reputation of Dr. Blair, 
 which soon extended beyond the limits of 
 the British empire, proved the discern- 
 ment of that patron, to whose munificence 
 he was so much indebted. Every favour 
 which he received, was mult a dan t is cum 
 laudey and did honour to the hand that be- 
 stowed it. In the year 1780, his Majes- 
 ty was graciously pleased to grant him a 
 pension of X.200. In procuring him this 
 proof of royal favour. Lord Melville would 
 doubtless take an adive part. It is said, 
 at the same time, that the marked appro- 
 bation with which her Majesty honoured 
 his Sermons, gave immediate success to 
 the request. The high elegance of the 
 Sermons was often not so apparent when 
 
193 
 
 they were delivered by the author, as when 
 they were read by others. In his manner 
 there was a stiffness which ecHpsed their 
 beauties, and to which strangers could not 
 be reconciled. It is reported, that they 
 were read to the Royal Family at St. James's 
 by the first Earl of Mansfield ; and their 
 intrinsic merit never appeared to greater 
 advantage than when they came from the 
 mouth of so dignified a speaker. 
 
 From the situation of the country a few 
 years before Dr. Blair's death, he appeared 
 in a light that endeared him more than 
 ever to the worthy and discerning part of 
 the community. Of his ability as a scho- 
 lar, and his amiableness as a man, he had 
 long given unequivocal proofs ; but his loy- 
 alty as a subjedl, and his faithful attach- 
 ment to the British constitution, had till 
 then no opportunity of shewing themselves. 
 The opinion of a person of his eminence ser- 
 ved, in such times, as a guide to the simple. 
 Many, who could not juage corredlly upon 
 political subjedls, were ready to be dntttcd 
 
 25 
 
194 
 
 by him, whose sentiments upon religious to- 
 pics they believed to be unerring. He de- 
 clared from his pulpit, that no man could 
 be a good Christian that was a bad subject. 
 The opinions' of those French philosophers, 
 who wished to destroy subordination, and 
 to loosen the restraints of law, he rejeded 
 with abhorrence. He regarded those men 
 as the authors of incalculable mischief to 
 every country upon earth, as well as to 
 that which unhappily gave them birth. 
 He beheld them as disturbing the peace of 
 the world, which, with an insiduous ap- 
 pearance of benevolence, they pretended to 
 promote. 
 
 Sentiments like these from the mouth of 
 such a man, and spoken at such a time, 
 could not fail to be produdlive of the hap- 
 piest efFedls on the public mind. Even 
 with all the energy which his Majesty's 
 ministers possessed, the task of stem- 
 ming the torrent which then threatened to 
 overwhelm the nation, was by no means 
 easy. Though few among the learned in 
 
195 
 
 Scotland were suspected of any desire to 
 betray the cause of their country, yet even 
 among them, patriotic zeal appeared in ve- 
 ry different degrees. In the encourage- 
 ment of this capital virtue, which both rea- 
 son and religion recommend, Dr, Blair took 
 a decided and an adlive share. No mean 
 disposition to temporize upon his own part, 
 or to avail himself of connecSlions future 
 and casual, interfered with what he felt to 
 be his duty at the time. The state, he saw, 
 then needed the countenance and support 
 of all its members ; and in the moment 
 of its exigency, he was ready to do what he 
 could. The firmness and vigour which he 
 then displayed, were worthy of the descen- 
 dant of that illustrious ancestor, who was 
 mentioned at the beginning of this work. 
 From his age and his profession, it could 
 not be supposed, that he was to take arms 
 in his country's defence; but to the side 
 which he so strenuously espoused, he gave 
 all that weight, which is attached to the 
 opinion of an honest man. 
 
196 
 
 During the crisis now spoken of, the 
 connexion between Lord Melville and Dr. 
 Blair grew more and more intimate. It 
 was indeed apparent to many, that in pro- 
 portion as his Lordship withdrew his friend- 
 ship from some others of the men of letters 
 in Scotland, he bestowed it the more large- 
 ly upon him. Never was a minister more 
 fortunate, or more judicious in bestowing 
 his favour; for, to the honour of Dr. Blair, 
 it can be recorded, that in no instance did 
 he ever desert the friend with whom he had 
 once associated, or the principle which he 
 had once avowed. Ignorant of the arts of 
 politicians, in which he refused to be hack- 
 neyed, he was of all politicians the most 
 successful. His influence over mankind 
 rested on the immoveable basis of intrinsic 
 worth; and he found no occasion to earn 
 by intrigue, that superiority which his un- 
 disguised virtues could of themselves com- 
 mand. 
 
 Although Dr. Blair did not court oppor- I 
 
 tunities of shewing his judgment in the bu- 
 
197 
 
 (iiness of life, yet he possessed that power 
 in an uncommon degree. His unwilhng- 
 ness to mingle in its adive scenes, created 
 a suspicion of his being unable to do so. 
 This opinion could be formed by those 
 pnly who knew not his charader. Had he 
 chosen to be adtive in the degree in which 
 he was skilful, we should have admired his 
 energy as much as his wisdom. He was, 
 at the same time, a better judge of mea- 
 sures than of men, of whom his general 
 philanthropy often made him think more 
 favourably than they deserved. In dire(fi:- 
 ing a piece of business, in the execution of 
 which he took no part, he frequently shew- 
 ed himself an able and a judicious adviser. 
 The merit of the counsellor was thus hid- 
 den from the public eye, and unfairly trans- 
 ferred to the ostensible agent. 
 
 There were certain circumstances pecu- 
 liar to the character of Dr. Blair, which 
 rendered him in some degree unfit for the 
 bustle of adive life. The delicacy of his 
 feelings seemed to disqualify him for en- 
 
198 
 
 during the rude shocks to which scram- 
 blers for power must often submit. He 
 had too much sensibiHty to bear an unde- 
 served insult with indiiference, and he was 
 too gentle to repel it with the asperity it 
 deserves. Against those arts by which the 
 fawning often hide their ferocity, he was 
 not duly prepared ; and his most partial 
 admirers cannot deny, that in his discern- 
 ment of charadler, his judgment was apt 
 to fail him. His perceptions in this way 
 were not sufficiently prompt, to suit every 
 occasion on which he was called to' aft. 
 To judge soundly of men, it was necessary 
 that he should have judged long. From a 
 belief, that the minds of those around him 
 resembled his own, he was too ready to 
 repose in them an unsuspicious confidence; 
 and the inflexible integrity of which he w^as 
 conscious, seemed to conceal from him the 
 duplicity of others. When he mistook the 
 charadcr of the man with whom he was 
 called to do business, his error almost al- 
 ways proceeded from the excess of bene- 
 
i99 
 
 volence. The amiableness of the cause upon 
 such occasions, furnished the best apology 
 for its immediate efFed:. 
 
 But ahhough Dr. Blair was thus averse 
 from entering into the bustle of active life, 
 and, for the reasons now mentioned, but 
 imperfedly fitted for it, yet he managed 
 his private concerns with singular pru- 
 dence. In this he was less exposed to de- 
 ception, and had better opportunities of 
 knowing the men with whom he was to 
 ad. With an unsuspeding simplicity he 
 committed himself to his friends, and was 
 as little disposed to take as to give offence. 
 A difference in sentiment, or opinion, was 
 with him no cause of enmity ^ and he had 
 liberality to forgive what he could not ap- 
 prove. Though his success in life was the 
 best proof of the soundness of the princi- 
 ples upon which he aded, yet he never 
 under-rated those who followed a different 
 course, or boasted of that wisdom by which 
 he obtained his obied. No man ever created 
 
200 
 
 fewer enemies, and in no instance was he 
 ever known to have lost a friend. 
 
 That judgment, for which Dr. Blair seem- 
 ed to have been eminently indebted to na- 
 ture, was fortified by habits of study and 
 observation. His thirst for knowledge was 
 insatiable. In as far as books could un- 
 fold to him the nature of man, he studied 
 that nature wi^i indefatigable attention. 
 From his profession as a clergyman, and 
 his engagements as a scholar, his inter- 
 course with the world was not the most 
 extensive. But he was particularly conver- 
 sant in history, both ancient and modern j 
 and his memory was tenacious of the facets 
 which he accumulated. Tenacious as this 
 power was, however, he even in early life 
 seemed unwilling to trust it. He made ab- 
 stracts of the most important works which 
 he perused, and thus had the materials of 
 his knowledge more completely at his com- 
 mand. 
 
 This pradise, by which he proposed to 
 methodize his information upon every sub- 
 
201 
 
 jecfl, he applied particularly to that of his- 
 tory. In this branch of study, according- 
 ly, his knowledge was alike accurate and 
 extensive. With the assistance of some of 
 his young friends, he formed chronological 
 tables, in which every important fadt that 
 occurred in his reading found its proper 
 place. In devising this plan, he discover- 
 ed a reach of thought that was hardly to 
 be expecfted at his age; and its excellence 
 was proved by the use that was afterwards 
 made of it. This system, the invention of 
 a student for his private convenience, was 
 adopted, improved, and published by his 
 learned friend. Dr. John Blair, prebendary 
 of Westminster; and every scholar knows 
 the estimation in which the work, entitled, 
 *** The Chronology and History of the 
 World," is held. 
 
 But Dr. Blair did not confine his atten- 
 tion to fadls that formed a regular history ; 
 he had a particular pleasure in the study 
 of voyages and travels. These he consi- 
 dered as furnishing him with the natural 
 26 
 
202 
 
 history of man in his different stages of ci- 
 vilization. When they were executed with 
 abihty, he considered them as valuable re- 
 positories; and even from those in which 
 the execution was imperfed, he was wil- 
 ling to glean whatever was worthy of no- 
 tice. As it was his duty in his Sermons to 
 say what man ought to be, so he was anxious 
 in his private studies to discover what, in 
 a physical light, he ad:ually was. In this 
 view he was happy in tracing the progress 
 of society, and in marking the varied as- 
 pects of human nature in its different sta- 
 ges. 
 
 Not satisfied with viewing human na- 
 ture as it appeared in scenes that adually 
 took place. Dr. Blair read a great deal of 
 fidlitious history. He not only defended 
 this species of writing against the attacks of 
 those who decried it, but insisted, that it 
 might be turned to very useful purposes. 
 In his opinion, it furnished one of the best 
 channels for conveying instruction, for 
 painting human life and manners, for shew- 
 
203 
 
 jng the errors into which we are betrayed 
 by our passions, for rendering virtue ami- 
 able, and vice odious. The fidions of an- 
 tiquity he considered as having been the 
 great vehicles, of knowledge ; and the con- 
 tempt into which that species of writing 
 has fallen, of which such fictions are the 
 basis, must, in his opinion, have arisen 
 solely from the mode of its execution. 
 
 In support of this opinion, which is not 
 generally adopted. Dr. Blair used to quote 
 the authority of Lord Bacon. With the 
 works of that great philosopher, it may be 
 observed, that he was particularly conver- 
 sant, and had borrowed from them rather 
 incautiously. Under the first head of the 
 eighth Sermon, in the second volume, upon 
 Death, he has taken the whole of the idea 
 in one passage, with little variation in the 
 expression, from an essay of his Lordship's 
 upon the same subje(ft. The passage in 
 Dr. Blair's Sermon begins thus : ** The 
 pomp of death is more terrifying than death 
 itself. Honour has defied death ; love has 
 
204 
 
 despised it; revenge has disregarded it; 
 grief, a thousand times, has wished for it.** 
 But to return from this digression : — in sup- 
 port of the study of iidlitious history. Lord 
 Bacon observes, that the common train of 
 affairs which we observe going on in the 
 world, does not fit the mind, nor give it en- 
 tire satisfadiion. We seek for more heroic 
 and illustrious deeds, for more diversified 
 and surprising events, for a more regular 
 and just distribution of rewards and pu- 
 nishments, than we find here; and because 
 we meet not with these in true history, we 
 have recourse to fiditious. If these sug- 
 gestions, in behalf of a species of writing 
 that has fallen into discredit, be not solid, 
 they are at least ingenious, and, considering 
 the high authority that supports them, they 
 deserve to be respeded. 
 
 From a convidtion of the truth of these 
 remarks, few people were more conversant 
 in novels and romances than Dr. Blair; and 
 to those that were excellent in their kind, 
 he always gave due praise. This part of 
 
205 
 
 his reading he at the same time seemed 
 disposed to conceal. When he borrowed 
 books that furnished him with entertain- 
 ment in this way, he did not always tell 
 for whom they were intended, but allowed 
 it to be supposed that they were to furnish 
 entertainment to others. From his conver- 
 sation, however, it appeared, that he had 
 read them with care, and he shewed no 
 inclination to deny that he had done so. 
 An indiscriminate condemnation of all such 
 books, he regarded as a proof of bad taste, 
 and as unfair to their authors. He insist- 
 ed, that when happily composed, they af- 
 forded frivolous amusement to none but 
 those who were incapable of any thing 
 higher, and that superficial observers only 
 did not derive from them the instruction 
 with which they were fraught. 
 
 It was the moral tendency of such wri- 
 tings, then, not the love of the amusement 
 which they are fitted to bestow, that at- 
 trafted the attention of Dr. Blair. The au- 
 thors of these, as of all other comoositions. 
 
206 
 
 might occasionally fail in their attempt ; 
 but the attempt itself, if properly made, 
 was, in his- judgment, entitled to respedt. 
 If the representation of life and manners 
 was natural, it commanded his approba- 
 tion as a critic, and the moral had its due 
 effedt in rendering virtue more amiable, 
 and vice more odious. By thus seizing 
 every opportunity of beholding human na- 
 ture in all the different situations in which 
 it had adlually appeared, and might pos- 
 sibly be seen, he was deeply skilled in this 
 ** proper study of mankind/' What he 
 drew from a variety of sources, he turned 
 to the advantage of those whom he was 
 called to instrud:. To so correct an obser- 
 ver of human nature, such extensive know- 
 ledge was of infinite use. It suggested 
 those delicate refledions respeding it, 
 which charm every reader, and which com- 
 manded the admiration even of those upon 
 whom he sometimes obtrudes disagreeable 
 truths. 
 
207 
 
 That timidity and diffidence in his own 
 abiUties, which were unfortunate both for 
 Dr. Blair and those around him, prevented 
 him from taking any adive part in the af- 
 fairs of the church. In the private con- 
 sultations, however, of Dr. Robertson, Dr. 
 Carlyle, Dr. Drysdale, and others, who ma- 
 naged ecclesiastical business, his opinion 
 was eagerly courted. With those clergy- 
 men he lived in the striftest friendship. 
 Though his efforts were not so public, yet 
 they were not less strenuous than theirs, 
 for the introduftion of those principles into 
 the General Assembly, which have influ- 
 enced its deliberations for fifty years, and 
 which Professor Stewart has explained in 
 his Life of Dr. Robertson. 
 
 After the retirement of Dr. Robertson, 
 and the death of Dr. Drysdale, Dr. Blair 
 shewed himself still more disposed to assist 
 in the management of church affairs, in the 
 way that was agreeable to himself. The 
 aid that was before useful, was then found 
 more so, and gratefully received by those 
 
208 
 
 to whom it was given. Dr. Blair's name 
 added dignity to the measure which he 
 was knowfji . to support ; and his opinion 
 though modestly given, had the authority 
 of a law. Though he kept himself aloof 
 from the scene in which his young friends 
 contended, yet he entered keenly into all 
 their sentiments and emotions ; and he often 
 tempered their warmth without ever com- 
 promising their principles. 
 
 The influence which Dr. Blair had over 
 the younger members of the church, was 
 greater than that of any other clergyman 
 whatever. Many of them had been his 
 pupils, and with a number of those he 
 maintained a constant correspondence. To 
 his good offices many of them had been 
 personally indebted ; and all respeded the 
 benevolence of a man, who was ready to 
 extend his services wherever he thought 
 they were due. Into minds thus disposed, 
 the opinions of this venerable counsellor 
 found an easy admission. Their intrinsic 
 soundness aided that partiality which arose 
 
209 
 
 from respeft to their author. Though he 
 never supported, in the General Assembly, 
 the measures which he suggested, yet the 
 measures themselves were vigorous, and 
 adequate to the purposes of those who had 
 courage to follow them. With all their vi- 
 gour, there was no acrimony upon the 
 part of him who devised them. His amia- 
 ble mind, superior to every thing like sel- 
 fish keennpss, had no desire to hurt the ad- 
 versary, whom it was his duty to vanquish. 
 As his moral sense was not less acute than 
 his taste, so, in the condudl of business, he 
 scorned to take advantage of any thing 
 like a trick. No man, who supported the 
 measures which he recommended, had ever 
 reason to be ashamed of them. They 
 breathed the honest simplicity of their au- 
 thor, and accorded with the native probity 
 of his mind. 
 
 The younger men, then, who had to 
 
 propose, and to support the views of Dr. 
 
 Blair, in the General AssciL-Hly, derived no 
 
 small advantage from the countenance of 
 
 27 
 
210 
 
 such a friend. They found in him an ad- 
 viser, to whom they could with confidence 
 resort. The unassuming manner in which 
 his opinions were given, equal^^d the abili- 
 ty with which they were formed. Had he 
 assumed an authoritative tone, it would 
 have been duly respeded. An amiable 
 modesty, however, made him appear not 
 to diredl where he really did so, and de- 
 cline those submissions, to which his judg- 
 ment, ripened by years, gave him an un- 
 disputed claim. 
 
 Dr. Blair would, in all probability, have 
 taken a more adlive part in the business of 
 the church courts, had he not professed 
 himself to be ignorant of their forms. From 
 a belief of this ignorance, he left it to 
 others to execute those plans, which he 
 ventured only to devise. From this cause, 
 also, he never would permit himself to be 
 named as a candidate for the chair, in the 
 General Assembly. Had the honour been 
 agreeable to him, the Church would have 
 been happy to grant it to a son, so much 
 
•211 
 
 celebrated as a scholar, and so blameless 
 as a man. 
 
 In respedl to his knowledge of forms, 
 there is no doubt, that Dr. Blair's modesty 
 misled him ; and at any rate, had he need- 
 ed instruction upon this point, he might 
 have easily gained it. In those private 
 conversations, in w^hich he bore a distin- 
 guished part, he witnessed the detail of ec- 
 clesiastical proceedings; and in these, he 
 gave no signs of his being a novice. While 
 debates were carried on in the Supreme 
 Court, he was no unconcerned hearer -, and 
 although he never addressed the House, yet 
 he often dropt hints highly useful to those 
 speakers, who gave the business its proper 
 shape. 
 
 The outline of the pastoral admonition, 
 which the General Assembly, in 1799, ad- 
 dressed to the people under their charge, 
 was furnished by Dr. Blair. In this, there 
 appears a beautiful simplicity of style, 
 that suits the plain docftrine it wis n.eant 
 to inculcate. The sentiment is happily 
 
212 
 
 adapted to the condition of those for whose 
 benefit it was intended. It displays that 
 Christian moderation, that zeal for true re- 
 ligion, and that contempt and distrust of 
 itinerant missionaries, which were worthy 
 of the venerable author. This last public 
 service may be regarded as his legacy to 
 the church, which he so long adorned. 
 Those who filled up his outline will ever 
 remember, with gratitude, this seasonable 
 effort of a Reverend Father, who had then 
 passed the 8oth year of his age. 
 
 But Dr. Blair was flattered, not only by 
 the attentions of his brethren in the church, 
 but also by those of his patrons, both as a 
 Clergyman and a Professor. Though the 
 Magistrates and Council of Edinburgh pos- 
 sess great power in the bestowing of bene- 
 fices, yet to their honour it can be said, 
 that they have shewn no disposition to 
 abuse it. In the election of Professors for 
 the chairs in the University, they have 
 been singularly chaste ; and without judg- 
 ing themselves of the accomplishments of 
 
213 
 
 the different candidates, they have num- 
 bered and weighed the testimonies in fa- 
 vour of each. Feehng their responsibility 
 to the pubUc, as the patrons of an illustri- 
 ous seminary, they have been anxious to 
 discharge their important trust with scrupu- 
 lous integrity. In the choice of advisers, 
 toa, they have shewn much wisdom. Neg- 
 lecting the opinion of those who were of- 
 ten most willing, though least able, to di- 
 re6l them, they have submitted to the 
 guidance of the most distinguished in that 
 branch of science, for which a teacher hap- 
 pened to be wanted. 
 
 From what has been said of Dr. Blair, few 
 men can be supposed to have been more fit 
 for giving that aid, which the Magistrates of 
 Edinburgh may be understood occasional- 
 ly to require. As he lived much in the li- 
 terary world, and as his society was court- 
 ed by people of every description, his 
 means of information were extensive. Few 
 men of eminence, as scholars, were unknown 
 to him; so that, when others spoke from 
 
214 
 
 general report, he could often give his opi- 
 nion from the surer testimony of personal 
 acquaintance. In communicating his ad- 
 vice, it appeared, that he was biassed by no 
 regard either to himself or to his party. Su- 
 perior to every thing like political stratagem, 
 he bore an honest testimony, that was strid- 
 ly consonant with the opinion which his 
 knowledge justified. His judgment, like 
 those of all men, might be occasionally 
 wrong. Against the duplicity of the cha- 
 rader observed by him, or the arts and 
 mistakes of those who reported it, he was 
 not proof; but in no instance did he ever 
 mislead others, without being himself de- 
 ceived. 
 
 Sir James Hunter Blair and Mr. Elder, 
 accordingly, when chief Magistrates of 
 Edinburgh, saw too strongly the value of 
 Dr. Blair's advice, not to avail themselves of 
 it. To him they resorted with confidence^ 
 when any difficulty arose. They knew, 
 that, abandoning to others the fame of a 
 politician, which he did not court, he 
 could accomplish, by fair means, what the 
 
21,5 
 
 politician often vainly attempts. While 
 they followed his counsels, they anticipated 
 that success which usually attended them. 
 Even though the plans which he suggested 
 failed, they knew that those plans would 
 bear examination. They would betray no 
 mean regard to himself, nor to a party, 
 and refledl no dishonour on that respeda- 
 ble body, over which the gentlemen who 
 consulted him, presided. In framing their 
 addresses to the Sovereign, none could judge 
 more soundly as to the matter to be adopt- 
 ed ; and in elegance of expression, he could 
 be rivalled by few. 
 
 Upon the death of Dr. Robertson, in the 
 year 1793, it was no easy matter to find 
 men qualified to fill those situations which 
 he had held with so much honour. His li- 
 terary eminence, as an historian, was known 
 and acknowledged throughout Europe. Fo- 
 reigners who understood not the language 
 in which his works first appeared, availed 
 themselves of the many translations into 
 others which they knew. In managing the 
 business of the Church of Scotland, he had 
 
216 
 
 discovered much political wisdom; and his 
 eloquence in the Supreme Ecclesiastical 
 Court, commanded the admiration of all 
 who could judge of it. Several years pre- 
 vious to his death, when certain changes 
 had taken place in the political influence 
 which diredled the affairs of Scotland, he 
 judged it prudent to retire from the public 
 business of the Church ; and shewed him- 
 self superior to that obstinacy, which keeps 
 a man from retreating before he is forced 
 to give way. In the affairs of common 
 life, he discovered the same good sense, as 
 in condudting those of the public; and was 
 alike skilful in preventing and in accom- 
 modating differences. 
 
 It was, perhaps, more difficult to find a 
 proper successor to Dr. Robertson, as Prin- 
 cipal of the University of Edinburgh, than 
 in any of his other offices. To a place in 
 itself respectable, the charadler of the in- 
 cumbent had given additional lustre. Du- 
 ring his last illness, and while he perceived 
 that, in spite of the skill of his physicians. 
 
217 
 
 his disease was gaining ground, he gave his 
 friend Dr. Blair a proof both of the Uber- 
 ahty of his mind, and of the sincerity of his 
 attachment. He told him, that he was 
 aware of tlie approach of death ; that he 
 wished to have a creditable successor ; and 
 that, in his opinion, no man had the same 
 claim to fill his place which Dr. Blair him- 
 self had. He begged, that no delicacy to- 
 wards him, or his family, might prevent Dr. 
 Blair from making the proper applications ; 
 and assured him, that he should die with 
 greater satisfadlion, if he had reason to an- 
 ticipate his friend's success. Sentiments 
 of such dignified liberality upon so trying 
 an occasion, awakened in the mind of Dr. 
 Blair those of admiration and gratitude. 
 Though he was at first overpowered by his 
 nice sensibility to whatever was amiable and 
 great, yet he soon made the answer to be ex- 
 pected from him. He assured his friend, that 
 no prospedl of private emolument could com- 
 pensate that of being separated from one he 
 so sincerely esteemed ; that he hoped Dr. 
 28 
 
218 
 
 Robertson would still live to preside in the 
 university, which he had so long adorned ; 
 and that he himself would make no prema- 
 ture attempt to obtain an office, which he 
 was incapable of filling as it was then filled. 
 From the manner in which Dr. Blair 
 conducted himself after Dr. Robertson's 
 death, it appeared, that he had other reasons 
 for declining to follow his friend's advice, 
 besides those which he reckoned it proper 
 to mention to him. His claim to the pre- 
 ferment he knew was acknowledged by eve- 
 ry body ', and he had trusted, that the una- 
 nimous voice of the country would supercede 
 the necessity of any exertion upon his part. 
 Hand semper err at faiiia aliqiiajido et e It git. 
 The patrons of the University perhaps un- 
 derstood, that if the office ^^ as an objed: of 
 his ambition, at the age of seventy-five, he 
 would have asked it; while he, trusting to 
 that claim of literary reputation of which 
 he was not unconscious, left it to his pa- 
 trons to bestow upon him what was its due 
 reward. A voluntary offer of such a pre- 
 
219 
 
 ferment, would, In his opinion, have been the 
 most honourable, both for those who were 
 to bestow, and for him who was to receive It. 
 
 Had Dr. Blair employed those means, by 
 which such appointments are usually obtain- 
 ed, there is little reason to believe, that he 
 would have failed in his objed. His friends 
 were both powerful and numerous. Lord 
 Melville's influence with the rulers of the 
 city, which he then represented in Parlia- 
 ment, would have given immediate effed: to 
 the slightest request from him. Of his 
 Lordship's partiality, however, the Doctor 
 had no desire to avail himself. Knowin/^ and 
 approving his Lordship's general unwilling- 
 ness to interfere in the eledion of members 
 of the University, and to cramp the choice 
 of the eledors, in a matter in v^hich its fame 
 is so deeply concerned, he was the more dis- 
 posed to rest his success upon what should 
 be felt as to his own pretensions. 
 
 When the appointment was given to ano- 
 ther, it is certain, that Dr. B!air felt the 
 oversight as injurious to himself, and that 
 
'220 
 
 he was more affeded by it than his friends 
 in general could have supposed. Flatter- 
 ed with the resped: of the world, and un- 
 accustomed to disappointments during a 
 long life, that had been devoted to literary 
 pursuits, he could ill brook any neglecl, 
 when that life was drawing to a close. Be- 
 fore the office was disposed of, he appear- 
 ed rather indifferent about it ; and as he 
 was incapable of playing a part, his feel- 
 ings had certainly deceived him. Between 
 him and the patrons of the university 
 there existed a misconception. He perhaps 
 expeded attentions to personal merit, which, 
 when not called to judge of it, they had not 
 been accustomed to pay; and they perhaps, 
 though they would not have refused his re- 
 quest, thought it became them to wait till 
 the request was made. 
 
 The friends of Dr. Baird, who succeed- 
 ed Dr. Robertson, and who, in his ear- 
 ly life, had been much indebted to Dr. 
 Blair's friendship, did what most men in 
 their situation would have done, and em- 
 
ployed, as appeared afterwards, the only 
 means that could have in the end succeed- 
 ed. As no rival appeared publicly upon 
 the field, they adled as if there had been 
 no competition, and took no notice of the 
 sense of the country that was not duly an« 
 nounced to them. By the moderation and 
 good sense with which Dr. Baird has con- 
 dudted the affairs of the University, his 
 condud: has given general satisfaction. To 
 the opinion of Dr. Blair, during the seven 
 years that he survived this appointment. Dr. 
 Baird paid a marked attention -, and by a be- 
 haviour that was at once dignified and unas- 
 suming, he regained the confidence and the 
 attachment of the amiable old man. 
 
 As the long life of Dr. Blair was spent 
 in the unremitted pursuit of laudable stu- 
 dies, and in the faithful discharge of his 
 clerical functions- so during the evening of 
 it, he enjoyed a serenity of mind with 
 v/hich few were ever blessed. While his 
 own refledions could suggest nothing that 
 was disagreeable, the world was presenting 
 
ooo 
 
 to him constant marks of its respe(f(:. Even 
 in old age, he shewed a gaiety of disposi- 
 tion v/hich seldom appears in others in the 
 early stages of Hfe. While he made trifling 
 objeds give place to important ones, from 
 the former he could at timxs derive enter- 
 tainment. He was happily free from that 
 disgusting austerity of manner, which is 
 never known to unbend. He could occa- 
 sionally take part in the playfulness of 
 those, into whose minds his elevated con- 
 ceptions could find no admission; and no 
 gloomy or peevish impression ever disturb- 
 ed the tranquillity of his own. Though the 
 love of fame, which was his ruling passion, 
 was ardent, yet it was fully gratified; and, 
 the place he held in the republic of letters, 
 was the fruit of that patient industry, by 
 which he ripened the talents with which 
 nature had blessed him. 
 
 In April 1748, he married his cousin 
 Miss Katharine Bannatyne, daughter of the 
 Reverend James Bannatyne, one of the mi- 
 nisters of EdinburgPi. From his connec- 
 
223 
 
 tion with her, which lasted forty-seven 
 years, he derived much domestic happi- 
 ness; and upon her death, which happen- 
 ed five years before his own, he shewed 
 that time had not blunted his sensibility, 
 and that he felt deeply the weight of his 
 misfortune. She direded his family af- 
 fairs with the most prudent attention ; and 
 upon all occasions discovered a strength of 
 understanding, that is seldom to be found 
 in her sex. By her he had one son and 
 one daughter. The former died in infancy. 
 Miss Blair died at the age of twenty ; and 
 her death was deeply regretted on her own 
 account, as well as on that of her aifflided 
 parents. She was eminently distinguished 
 for those accompHshments which became 
 her age and sex ; and by her proficiency in 
 some of the fine arts, shewed clearly that 
 she had been fortunate enough to inherit 
 her father's taste. 
 
 In bearing the heaviest strokes that can 
 rend the heart of a husband aiv.i a fiither, 
 Dr. Blair displayed tlie power of that reli- 
 
224 
 
 gion of which he was the faithful iDinister* 
 When the rod was laid upon him, he bent 
 under it, and felt the blow in all its seve- 
 rity. By no aifeded apathy did he chal- 
 leni^e the admiration of fools. While the 
 depth of his wound was visible to all who 
 knew him, his patience and resignation 
 were alike conspicuous. He was seen ap- 
 plying to himself that Christian balm, 
 which with much success he had adminis- 
 tered to others; and as his esteemed col- 
 league Dr. Finlayson says of him, with 
 much truth of sentiment, and elegance of 
 expression^ ** His mind, fortified by religi- 
 ous habits, enabled him to persevere to the 
 end in the active and cheerful discharge of 
 the duties of his station ; preparing for the 
 world the blessings of elegant instrudion; 
 tendering to the mourner the lessons of di- 
 vine consolation ; guiding the young by his 
 counsels; aiding the meritorious by his in- 
 fluence ; and supporting, by his voice and by 
 his conduit, the civil and ecclesiastical con- 
 stitution of his country." 
 
225 
 
 Though his bodily constitution was by no 
 means robust, yet by habitual temperance 
 and by attention to health, his life was hap- 
 pily prolonged beyond the usual period. 
 During the summer before his death, he was 
 occupied in preparing the last volume of 
 his Sermons for the press ; and for this pur- 
 pose, he copied the whole with his own 
 hand. It seemed to give him much plea- 
 sure, that, at his advanced period of life, he 
 was able to make this exertion. A few days 
 before he died, he had no complaint; but 
 on the 24th December, 1800, he felt a 
 slight pain in his bowels, with which nei- 
 ther he nor his friends were alarmed. On 
 the afternoon of the 26th, this pain in- 
 creased, and violent symptoms began to ap- 
 pear ^ the causes of which were then unfor- 
 tunately unknown, both to himself and to 
 his physician. He had for a few years 
 before laboured under an inguinal hernia. 
 This complaint, which he was imprudently 
 disposed to conceal, he considered as tri- 
 29 
 
22(j 
 
 fling; and he understood, that, by taking 
 the ordinary precautions, nothing was to 
 be apprehended from it. Had the real 
 cause of the disease which carried him off 
 been known at first, and an early remedy ap- 
 phed, its fatal effeds might have been pre- 
 vented for some time. In consequence of 
 an incarceration of the hernia, it produced a 
 complete stoppage in his bowels ; and his 
 physician had to lament, that before his aid 
 was called for, the strength of his patient was 
 exhausted, and an inflammation had com- 
 menced, which it was impossible to resist. 
 The bodily agony he underwent for some 
 hours before his death had no effed: upon 
 his mind, which remained distindt and 
 calra. He met his fate with the compo- 
 sure lof a Christian, who had nothing to 
 fear ; and expired on the morning of Sa- 
 turday the 27th of December, in the 83d 
 year of his age, and the 59th of his mi- 
 nistry. 
 
 The death of a man who had long been 
 acknowledged, as one of his country's bright- 
 
227 
 
 est ornaments, naturally occasioned univer- 
 sal concern, and was regarded as a public 
 loss. It could not, indeed, have been ex- 
 pected, in the course of nature, that his 
 life would be long protaded, beyond the 
 period which it had reached. Yet his 
 friends could not fail to be deeply affeded, 
 when the sudden and fatal event, which 
 snatched him from them, at last took place. 
 The City, and the University of Edinburgh 
 equally regretted the loss of one, whom 
 they had, for so many years, been proud 
 to reckon as their own, and who so emi- 
 nently adorned both, by his professional 
 talents and reputation. Even strangers, 
 who knew the character of this valuable 
 man only by fame, seemed to be hardly 
 less affeded by the news of his death, than 
 his personal friends ; and by none were 
 those expressions of grief withheld, which, 
 however unavailing in themselves, serve 
 impressively to attest the resped of the li- 
 ving for the memory of the dead. 
 
228 
 
 The Author of Dr. Blair's Life humbly 
 flatters himself, that his work will be re- 
 ceived with indulgence by the public. With 
 every disposition, so far as his abilities 
 would permit, to do justice to his subject, 
 in complying with the request of his much 
 honoured friend, he found himself deprived 
 of those means of information, which most 
 biographers have been able to command. 
 From the conversation of a few of Dr. Blair's 
 aged friends, who had been the companions 
 of his youth, and from the Author's own 
 recoil edion, he had to draw every anec- 
 dote which he has now related. His op- 
 portunities of being intimately acquainted^ 
 with this illustrious man, were indeed un- 
 common. He had found, in Dr. Blair, the 
 friend and monitor of his youth ; and had, 
 for twenty-five years, been associated with 
 him, as one of his colleagues in the Univer- 
 sity of Edinburgh. It would be ungrate- 
 ful, were the author to omit this opportu- 
 
229 
 
 liity of acknowledging his high obhgations 
 to the steady and uninterrupted friendship, 
 which he thus enjoyed, during the greatest 
 part of his hfe. But on the numberless 
 proofs of affedtionate regard, with which he 
 was honoured by his venerable friend, he 
 would be ashamed to dwell. 
 
 The imperfedl account now brought to a 
 conclusion, is not intended as an eulogium 
 on the distinguished character, whom it de-^ 
 scribes. The name of Dr. Blair needs no 
 panegyrist. His literary honours are a trophy 
 which he has ered:ed for himself, and which 
 time will not destroy. Posterity will justly 
 regard him as a benefadtor of the human race, 
 and as no ordinary instrument in the hand 
 of God, for refining the taste, improving the 
 morality, and promoting the religion of the 
 Christian world. 
 
 THE END 
 
Princeton Theological Scmm.iry-Speer 
 
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