^?tC'J5X'fe ( v^ 
 

 
 AN 
 
 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 THE LATE 
 
 JOHN HILL, L.L.D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF HUMANITY IN THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY, AND FELLOW OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY 
 OF EDINBURGH. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 
 3f 3BaHantgne anfc To 
 
 FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND, LONDON J 
 WILLIAM CREECH, AND MANNERS AND MILLER, EDINBURGH. 
 
 1807.
 
 ACCOUNT 
 
 OF THE 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 DR HUGH BLAIR. 
 
 BIOGRAPHY, as a species of history, has 
 advantages peculiar to itself. As venial de- 
 fects may be thrown into the shade, the 
 picture is beheld with more admiration 
 than the original. While the striking fea- 
 tures of a living character may be seen or 
 reported, we are less anxious to collect 
 them. As long as the circumstances in 
 which his character is placed may vary, we 
 feel ourselves at liberty to change our opi- 
 
 4 
 o o c\ o f ~\ r-\ f~*
 
 nions, and we fix unalterably the estima- 
 tion that is due to him, only when he has 
 retired from the scene of life. 
 
 From departed worth there is seldom any 
 disposition to detract. 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 subject 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 conduct, the at- 
 tainment of it is seen to be possible ; and 
 they who are accustomed to contemplate 
 distinguished endowments in others, often 
 foster 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
 
 3 
 
 modesty of its amiable subject, every ves- 
 tige of a correspondence, of which others 
 would have been proud, has been destroy- 
 ed, except a few letters respecting Ossian's 
 Poems. Dr Blair was of opinion, that 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 character 
 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- 
 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, whose life and 
 character are now to be the subject 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 respecting him 
 may not be unacceptable. Great men 
 spring often from men like themselves ; and 
 the talents and virtues that once adorned 
 an illustrious ancestor, may be traced in the 
 character 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 univer- 
 sity of Glasgow. Feeling, however, a great- 
 er inclination to preach the gospel, than to 
 teach philosophy, he obtained a licence 
 from the church. The merit of his sermons
 
 justified the expectations that had been 
 formed of him, and they were often deli- 
 vered 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. Mons. 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,
 
 6 
 
 were, in his opinion, equally unauthorised 
 by scripture. 
 
 In consequence of the part which Mr 
 Blair took in regard to the Perth Articles, 
 which were ratified in 1621, 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- 
 sity there, was active in seconding his 
 views. The lectures 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 but 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 en- 
 couraged by many, of whose wisdom and 
 attachment he was fully convinced, he 
 took the bold resolution of going to Lon- 
 don, and of imploring in person the king's 
 protection. He was there promised sup- 
 port by the Earl of Stirling, Secretary for 
 Scotch affairs, but deceived by him. Far 
 from being discouraged by a breach of pro- 
 mise, which dishonoured the nobleman that 
 was guilty of it, he found his way to the 
 king himself. His majesty heard the re- 
 quest with gracious condescension, and, by 
 a missive in his own handwriting, command- 
 ed the Earl of Strafford, then Lord-Lieu- 
 tenant of Ireland, to see hiai 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-
 
 8 
 
 ference, became daily more uncomfortable, 
 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 respected 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 functions. 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 act 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.
 
 9 
 
 mandate, his friend, Mr Samuel Ruther- 
 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 sent 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 rai- 
 sed by the convention of estates, to assist 
 that of the Parliament of England then at
 
 10 
 
 war with the king, and remained with it as 
 chaplain to Lord Crawford's regiment till 
 after the victory 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 there 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 acted 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 wait 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 character of the Protector,
 
 11 
 
 and the motives by which his conduct was 
 influenced. To these, one of his brethren, 
 Mr James Sharp, afterwards Archbishop of 
 St Andrews, was blind ; and expressed his 
 satisfaction 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 Protector. 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. 
 He afterwards shewed himself regardless of
 
 the power of a Primate, whom he could not 
 respect. The vindictive spirit of the Arch- 
 bishop soon drove him from St Andrews, 
 and he ended a life of uncommon useful- 
 ness and activity, 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.
 
 From Hugh, the younger son of Robert, 
 sprung John, who was a respectable mer- 
 chant, and one of the magistrates of Edin- 
 burgh. As his fortune suffered consider- 
 ably from being engaged in the South Sea 
 scheme, he obtained an office in the Ex- 
 cise. He married Martha Ogston, and the 
 first child of this marriage was the celebra- 
 ted Hugh Blair, the subject of the present 
 memoir, who was born on the 7th of April, 
 1718. 
 
 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 exer- 
 tions at the beginning, would be his success 
 during the career of life. 
 
 After going through the usual course at 
 the High School, he became a student at
 
 14 
 
 the university of Edinburgh in October 
 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 life. 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, Hegi KU.XX, 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-
 
 15 
 
 mination, and a correctness of feeling, be* 
 yond what could have been expected from 
 a youth of but sixteen years of age, he 
 marked the general characters of beauty as 
 residing in the different objects 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 
 publicly at the end of the session during 
 which it was composed, and he considered 
 it as a performance that did credit to him- 
 self, 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, " DC fun daman- 
 tis ct obligatione Legis Naturce" 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 subject 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-
 
 16 
 
 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 re- 
 spectable proficients. In the moral doc- 
 trine 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 uni- 
 versity, in the study of literature, philoso- 
 phy, and divinity, Mr Blair was licensed to 
 preach the Gospel by the presbytery of 
 Edinburgh on the 21st of October, 1741. 
 His first appearances in the pulpit justified 
 the expectations which his friends had 
 formed of him. His doctrines were sound 
 and practical, and his language, though 
 somewhat flowery, presented none of that 
 false glare, which while it pleases a vulgar, 
 always offends a judicious eye. Its early 
 luxuriance soon corrected itself, and was 
 understood by his friends to announce the
 
 17 
 
 value of the crop, when the fruits of his ge- 
 nius should be matured 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 Blah- 
 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 
 
 .B
 
 18 
 
 country parish, were brought into a sphere, 
 in which they became conspicuous, and 
 extensively 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 election, and his competitor, Mr Ro- 
 bert Walker, then in high estimation as a 
 preacher, was powerfully supported in the 
 canvass. By the most active exertions, 
 however, out of two hundred and eighteen 
 votes, Mr Blair obtained one hundred and 
 thirty-six. During the eleven years that he 
 continued minister of the Canongate, his 
 reputation as a preacher was continually 
 growing. The gay and the serious, the 
 opulent and the needy, the learned and the 
 illiterate, vied with each other in eagerness 
 to profit by those instructions, which were
 
 19 
 
 alike useful, and which the art of the 
 preacher 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 
 confirmed. He made the precepts of reli- 
 gion 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 
 authority ; and they made even the ungod- 
 ly 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 metropolis his pre- 
 tensions could not lie concealed. He was 
 translated from the Canongate to that church 
 in the city of Edinburgh which is called 
 Lady Tester's, on the llth of October, 1754, 
 and from thence to the High Church, on the 
 loth of June, 1758.
 
 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 instruct 
 the most learned and respectable 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 Act of 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- 
 racter and eminent rank in this country, 
 who had their seats in said church/' Had 
 he been of a political and an ambitious
 
 21 
 
 disposition, we should have given him cre- 
 dit for his sagacity, and for his skill in in- 
 trigue. His innate modesty we should have 
 construed into refined address, and have 
 applauded that wisdom, which made him 
 forbear to solicit the attention of the world, 
 till he could for certain command its re- 
 spect. 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 active than 
 himself in devising plans for bringing him 
 into notice. 
 
 During the four years that Mr Blair was 
 minister of Lady Tester'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 
 narrowness of his circumstances, to shun 
 the company of his superiors in fortune, yet 

 
 his abilities were known and respected 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 li- 
 terary honours with a deserving rival, than 
 in seizing them with a selfish avidity. 
 
 The stock of literature which then adorned 
 the country, was the pride of the different 
 scholars who collected 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,
 
 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 Divinity ; 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 Rhe- 
 toric, to which they elected and appointed 
 Dr Blair. The merit of the presentee, and 
 his fitness for the office, had been proved 
 by a set of lectures which he delivered the 
 preceding winter. In April 1762 his ma-
 
 jesty was graciously pleased to give an early 
 proof of that royal munificence, with which 
 he has always distinguished the university 
 of Edinburgh, by erecting and endowing a 
 Professorship of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres, 
 and appointing Dr Blair professor, with a 
 salary of L. 70. - 
 
 The manner in which the learned Doctor 
 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 detected 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 expected ; and high was the 
 responsibility imposed upon that learned 
 man, to whom the task of forming the taste
 
 of the rising generation was thus formally 
 consigned. The excellencies and the de- 
 fects 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 characters ; 
 as a Critic, as a Preacher, and as a Man. 
 
 In the year 1755, the expectations 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 
 respective 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."
 
 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 
 Dictionary, 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 detract 
 from the merit of the work, they wish to 
 add to that which 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 uti-
 
 lity of the Dictionary, and recommend it 
 to be used by all those who are desirous to 
 correct 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 conjunction 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- 
 rect ; 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 ap- 
 plaud 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 this,
 
 literary association. Some of them seem 
 to assume the privilege of regulating the 
 public taste, and exercise that privilege 
 with a dictatorial rigour, which could never 
 improve it. Forgetting the narrowness of 
 the country in which they wrote, and the 
 disgust to be expected 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 indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 This severity of criticism was chiefly ex- 
 ercised upon a History of Croesus, 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
 
 29 
 
 of its injustice, and in a pamphlet entitled, 
 " A View of the Edinburgh Review, point- 
 ing out the spirit and tendency of that 
 Paper/' convinced many that the biter had 
 been biting himself: 
 
 Fragili qu&rens illidere dentem, 
 OJfendit solido. 
 
 In the discharge of the duties of this 
 conjunct undertaking, it fell upon Dr Blair 
 to review Dr II utcheson'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- 
 ject 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 de- 
 fect, 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 object. 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 jud- 
 ging 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 
 subject. As the difference between Dr 
 Hutcheson'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 be- 
 tween DrHutcheson's and Lord Shaftsbury's 
 systems, however, require investigation, and 
 in marking the difference, the critic dis- 
 plays his acuteness. Though benevolence 
 is the leading principle in each, yet that in 
 the noble author's is found less disinterest-
 
 31 
 
 ed than in the other, and sentiments, seem- 
 ingly generous in the former, are shown to 
 be ultimately selfish. 
 
 While Dr Blair does all justice, on the 
 one hand, to the merits of the system he is 
 examining, he fails not, on the other, to 
 point out its defects. Though gentle, he 
 is impartial. He exposes the inaccuracy 
 of confounding actions that arise from a 
 sense of duty, with those arising from a 
 simple approbation of the moral sense. 
 Many admirers, for instance, of the bene- 
 volent heroism of the Decii, who sacrificed 
 their lives for the sake of their country, feel 
 no inclination to imitate their conduct from 
 a sense of duty. The system 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 practice. 
 Virtue is held forth in it as an object which 
 we must admire and approve, rather than 
 as a law for regulating our conduct. Its 
 tendency seems to be, to make virtuous men
 
 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 literati of Edinburgh. An- 
 xious to add to their number, and to allow 
 none of the remains- of Gaelic literature to 
 perish, they encouraged a subscription for 
 enabling Mr Macpherson to traverse the 
 Highlands in quest of them. All that he 
 collected he translated and published. In 
 spite of the acknowledged taste and judge- 
 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
 
 which they supposed the honour of their 
 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 
 subject, a greater number was disposed to 
 agree with him as to the excellence of these 
 compositions, than as to their authenticity. 
 
 With regard to what has been urged 
 against these poems, the bounds which must 
 be observed in a work of this kind, do not 
 permit us to weigh the objections 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 
 information of the bard, in rude times, gave 
 
 c
 
 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 correctly ; 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 produced. 
 Both are taken from the poem entitled 
 Lathmon ; and the first will admit of a 
 comparison with a similar passage in Ho- 
 mer. In the passages from both poets, 
 high parental affection is the foundation of 
 the beauty, and both may have suffered 
 alike from being translated. The last in- 
 terview between Hector and Andromache, 
 near the end of the Sixth Book of the 
 Iliad 9 is wrought up with a degree of art, 
 that does honour even to the genius of 
 Homer. The armed warrior is held forth
 
 as taking his child into his bosom, and 
 praying, in behalf of him, in the following 
 emphatic words : 
 
 Zgy, aKKoi rz 0toi, ^ors dy xoCi rovde 
 
 crors ng IMO^VI Ilar^o? $ oye 
 
 avion*- - IAIAA. z. 4?6. 
 
 " 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 following words : " I have a 
 son, O Fingal ! His soul has delighted in
 
 Morni's deeds ; but his sword has not been 
 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 FA- 
 THER OF GAUL/' 
 
 Here the Celtic Bard not only stands a 
 comparison with the Grecian, when their 
 subjects 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 Morni's parental affection, 
 again, leads him to renounce every thing 
 personal. His own lustre in arms he is 
 willing to sacrifice to the fame of his son. 
 Between his love to him, and his love to
 
 military glory, there is a struggle, in which 
 the former decidedly prevails. He prays, 
 that his own exploits may be buried in ob- 
 livion, 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 renown on the 
 grey hairs of Morni for actions like these.
 
 38 
 
 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 
 dignified magnanimity is not to be met with 
 in any poet. If the maxims of modern 
 warfare 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 
 passage to contrast with that now quoted, 
 we might perhaps search in vain. 
 
 Whatever doubts arose formerly, either 
 as to the authenticity, or the beauty, of the 
 Poerns of Ossian, none were ever heard of 
 as to the merit of the Dissertation, in w T hich 
 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 correct. The critic of Ossian did not
 
 39 
 
 gaze upon the beauties of his author with 
 senseless admiration, " ut pueri Junonis 
 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 selection of a 
 few of the characteristic circumstances in 
 the object described. The eccentric play 
 of Ossian's genius was brought to that ge- 
 nuine 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
 
 40 
 
 of Aristotle with the elegance of Longinus, 
 a new sera was established in literature. 
 From an able developement of the laws of 
 one species of poetry, inferences were de- 
 duced, which applied, ii/i a certain degree, 
 to every other. Polite literature was 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 
 induction, by those who canvass its sub- 
 jects. 
 
 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 subject, or the extent of its merit. 
 Men of taste were pleased with the disco- 
 very of a fixed principle fur regulating their
 
 4,1 
 
 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 productions of poetical genius 
 might be safely referred. 
 
 For the space of eighteen years after Dr 
 Blair began to read Lectures upon Rhe- 
 toric and Belles Lettres, he found full room 
 for the exercise of his powers. His reputa- 
 tion 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.
 
 In collecting materials for his Lectures, 
 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 
 literature, yet the principles of taste were 
 not so correctly ascertained, as to form a 
 rule for judging of its exertions. Dr Smith 
 was the first person who read Lectures in 
 Edinburgh upon Rhetoric; and in this 
 branch of science shewed the same ori- 
 ginal talents that distinguished him in 
 others. When he went to Glasgow as 
 Professor of Logic, Lectures upon the same 
 subject were read by Dr Watson, who af- 
 terwards became Professor of that Science 
 at St Andrews. Lord Kames published 
 his Elements of Criticism after Dr Blair 
 had begun to read Lectures privately, and 
 before his Majesty erected and endow- 
 ed his establishment in the University of 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 After reading his course of Lectures in 
 the University above twenty years, Dr Blair
 
 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. Imperfect copies, in manuscript, 
 had been exposed to sale, and from them 
 quotations had appeared in the Biographia 
 Britannica. It became necessary, accord- 
 ingly, that the Lectures should proceed 
 from his own hand, rather than come into 
 
 public view under some very defective and 
 
 
 
 erroneous form. 
 
 It must be apparent to every attentive 
 reader, that Dr Blair was much more an- 
 xious to compose Lectures that might be- 
 come distinguished for their utility, than 
 for their depth. His object was to initiate 
 youth into a study, with which the coun- 
 try at large was but little acquainted. His 
 pupils 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 
 
 t
 
 44 
 
 structure might have been impaired, had 
 the foundation not been securely laid. 
 
 As the author of those Lectures 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 borrowing 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 Lectures to the capa- 
 city of young men, who were novices in his 
 science, it has been urged by some, that 
 he carried his desire of doing so too fur. 
 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
 
 45 
 
 he pretends to instruct. He refuses to sa* 
 tisfy the appetite which he raises, and ge- 
 nius must languish for want of its proper 
 food. Though superficial 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 facts, 
 which pretenders in science have neither 
 discernment nor industry to collect. 
 
 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 is
 
 46 
 
 better, perhaps, to establish principles that 
 are questionable, than to establish none. 
 
 In respect 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 
 Kames, who had studied the subject of 
 Belles Lettres before the Doctor 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- 
 fects 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
 
 of his genius. By every scientific enquirer, 
 accordingly, the Elements of Criticism must 
 be regarded as a valuable mine, that will 
 not soon be exhausted. 
 
 After the publication of Lord Kames's 
 Elements of Criticism, and before that of 
 Dr Blair's Lectures, 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 subject, and that his mind, 
 naturally acute and sagacious, throws light 
 upon any thing to which he chose to di- 
 rect 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.
 
 48 
 
 In the first part of Dr Blair's Lectures, 
 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- 
 jects, 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 effects 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
 
 49 
 
 extensive delight. In matters of feeling, as 
 well as of intellect, established laws are 
 said to prevail, and the difference between 
 beauty and deformity to be, in fact, 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 subject. 
 To the term sublimity two meanings are 
 affixed ; that is, it denotes both the emo- 
 tion excited in the mind, and the quality 
 in the object that excites it. Beauty, again, 
 is confined to the object, 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 
 object, 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 
 
 D
 
 50 
 
 been given by different authors, as to the 
 origin of those emotions styled sublime. 
 He states that of Mr Burke, with the re- 
 spect 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 en- 
 quirer, is more apparent than any where. 
 Of the importance and the difficulty of the 
 subject, 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
 
 51 
 
 of those fundamental defects which ap- 
 pear in writing. 
 
 From these preliminary observations, it was 
 to have been expected, that, in establishing a 
 theory of speech, former errors would have 
 been exploded, and the utmost accuracy 
 introduced. Every attempt, however, to 
 expose and to amend what is faulty, is de- 
 clined. The common division of speech 
 into ight 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, an'd as an exact logical divi- 
 sion is of no great consequence to the pre- 
 sent purpose, it is better to make use of 
 these 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 
 outset must affect every step in the pro- 
 gress; and though, in certain cases, the 
 conclusions be not the same with those o
 
 former enquirers, they must be alike un- 
 profitable. 
 
 The third part of Dr Blair's Lectures, 
 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 instruction ; and he is wonderfully 
 successful, in giving to each of his Lectures, 
 upon the subject of Style, almost every ex- 
 cellence that can belong to a didactic 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 object. Perspicuity alone is court- 
 ed ; and by so great a master in the art of 
 writing, it is completely attained. 
 
 In this part of the course, three Lectures 
 are set apart for giving rules with regard to 
 the construction of sentences. Aristotle's
 
 53 
 
 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 respect to 
 their clearness, their unity, their strength, 
 and their harmony. Instances from au- 
 thors of note are produced, in some of 
 which these qualities are shewn to be con- 
 spicuous, and in others to be deficient. 
 The learned critic does not degrade his ta- 
 lents, by uttering any thing that is scurri- 
 lous, 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 mea- 
 sure scrupulously every beauty and every 
 defect, he is always more disposed to 
 praise than to censure ; and in correcting 
 slips which he felt strongly, he discovers 
 the most amiable candour. 
 
 Under the article of Style, Dr Blair treats 
 of the origin and nature of the figures of 
 rhetoric. Here a fine field is presented for
 
 54 
 
 the display of his taste ; of the strength of 
 which, in spite of his modesty, he seems 
 luckily conscious. In selecting 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 judge- 
 ment. As soon as he apprehended the ex- 
 istence, he marked the cause of every beauty 
 and defect. His feeling, in regard to both, 
 was correct, as well as strong ; and the de- 
 licate 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 Kames, and Dr 
 Campbell, upon the Philosophy of Rheto- 
 rical Figures, yet the subject 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-
 
 55 
 
 rary world, that Dr Smith ordered his ma- 
 nuscripts on the subject to be destroyed, 
 because they appeared to himself to be 
 in some degree imperfect. Theories by a 
 mind like his, though incomplete, must 
 have thrown light upon their subject, and 
 suggested hints, which others might have 
 pursued. It was alleged by him and his 
 friends, that Dr Blair had availed himself 
 largely of his remarks, both on the con- 
 struction of sentences, and on the general 
 characters of style. In this case, however, 
 there was no plagiarism. Dr Blair tells us 
 in a note, that several ideas upon these 
 subjects had been taken from a manuscript 
 treatise on Rhetoric shewn him by the learn- 
 ed 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 pla- 
 giarist to shine in borrowed feathers, which 
 Dr Blair disdained. He avowed his obliga- 
 tion to his learned friend ; and understood 
 when he did so, that the public would have 
 it in their power to judge of its extent.
 
 56 
 
 The laudable anxiety of Dr Blair to give 
 every possible instruction, with regard to 
 style, is further visible in a critical examina- 
 ation of four papers in the Spectator, and of 
 a passage in the writings of Dean Swift. In 
 the five Lectures containing this, every rule 
 formerly given is turned to immediate use. 
 Whatever may have been obscure in the- 
 ory is rendered clear in practice, and every 
 student 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 subjects 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.
 
 57 
 
 Iii comparing orators, whose practice wa* 
 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 detract. His 
 powers of embellishing his subject, 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 respect 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 productions, the 
 orations of Demosthenes approach the near- 
 est to perfection. 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 drains pas dire que Demosthene me 
 paroit superietir a Ciceron. Je proteste
 
 58 
 
 personne TL admire plus Ciceron que je fais. 
 II embellit tout ce quil touche. II fait ho- 
 neur a la parole. 11 fait des mots ce qu'un 
 autre rien sauroit faire. II a^je ne sais com- 
 bien de sortes d'esprits. II est meme court et 
 vehement, touteslesfois qu'ilveut I'etre; contre 
 Catiline, contre Verres, contre Antoine. Mais 
 on remarque quelque parure dans son discours. 
 L'art y est merveilleux ; mats on I'entrevoit. 
 itorateur en pensant au salut de la repub- 
 lique ne s' oublie pas, et ne se laisse pas on- 
 blier." 
 
 The rhetorical powers of Demosthenes 
 are held forth, as being of a higher order 
 than those of Cicero, and also as being dif- 
 ferent in kind. Of the former, vigour and 
 austerity are made the characteristics ; 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
 
 59 
 
 existed in the mind of the orator is trans- 
 fused into his audience with inimitable art, 
 Dr Blair appeals again to the elegant and 
 correct taste of the Archbishop of Cam- 
 bray : " Demosthene paroit sortir de soi, et 
 ne voir que la patrie. II ne cherche point le 
 beau ; il le fait, sans y penser. II est au dessus 
 de V admiration. II se sert de la parole 
 comme un homme modeste de son habit , pour 
 se couvrir. II tonne ; ilfoudroye. C'est un 
 torrent qui entraine tout. On ne pent le 
 critiquer, parcequ on est saisi. On pense 
 aux choses qu'il dit, et non a ses paroles. On 
 le perde de mie. On n'est occupe que de 
 Philippe, qui envahit tout, Je suis charme, 
 de ces deux orateurs ; mats j'avoue que je 
 suis moins touche de I' art infini, et de la 
 magnifique eloquence de Ciceron 9 que de la 
 rapide simplicite de Demosthene" 
 
 In order to exemplify that high species 
 of eloquence, which Demosthenes exhibits 
 so successfully against Philip of Macedon, 
 Dr Blair gives large extracts from his Phi- 
 lippics and Olynthiacs. In these extracts,
 
 CO 
 
 which, unfortunately, are in English 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 strictly 
 applicable to the times. What Demos- 
 thenes did among the Athenians, Britain, 
 to the immortal honour of those who now 
 direct her councils, has long done, and is 
 still doing, among the nations of Europe. 
 "NVith a magnanimous, and, at the same 
 time, a humane attention to their inte- 
 rests, she has been their faithful monitor as 
 to evils, which some of them, by disre- 
 garding her warnings, now experience, and 
 which others have reason to dread. 
 
 Ovff q 'EXXaj, xQ q (Btt,gtt,go<; rqv vXtovz%ta,v 
 ")(upct T ctvQgtoTit. xoe,} ruufi oguvreg o/'EXApjvgf acrav- 
 rtg> KOLI ciK^ovr&fy Kit/Mo^iv ^ 
 
 ovru 
 
 yjfjt,sga,c, gv curs ruv (rvpty&govruv ovrs
 
 61 
 
 xviv&ivioiv jSo^d^ng xou tyiKiuc, se^cu'av t 
 
 ytyvopsyov rov utfodrirov vsgiogaptv, roi? 
 rxrov, ov uKkog aToXXyra;, gas*oj 
 yg pot &># ov'fc OTUS ffuOrifftrctt roc, 
 ^g tfaarrw ZTTZI, on 
 
 xou ry TTKVJ vopptu oKOvvrt vvv 
 
 WTOM, vtius ayvoei tifaov. AHMO20. KATA 
 
 4>IAin. AOF. TPIT. 
 
 u 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 more
 
 and more powerful, while each of us, as 
 far as I can judge, supposes, that the time 
 during which he is destroying another is a 
 respite gained to himself. No one of us 
 judges as to those means, or performs those 
 actions, by which Greece is to be saved from 
 destruction. No man, at the same time, 
 is ignorant, that, like the regular paroxysm 
 of a fever, or of some other noxious disease, 
 he is coming upon those, who believe the 
 danger 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 
 subject he could borrow from no body who 
 was capable of instructing him. His suc- 
 cess in the art of preaching had proved 
 the soundness of every rule he adopted, and 
 established his right to direct others in a 
 department, where he exhibited so distin- 
 guished a pattern. 
 
 The same talent, that led Dr Blair to 
 such eminence as a preacher, fitted him 
 also to judge ably of the conduct of every
 
 kind of discourse. Many rules in compo- 
 sition are so general, as to apply equally to 
 them all. The same law holds in each, in 
 regard to the introduction, to the division, 
 to the parts that are narrative and argu- 
 mentative, and to the peroration. In the 
 Lectures upon those subjects, accordingly, 
 much valuable information is to be found. 
 No wild theory is offered, in which the au- 
 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 practice. 
 
 In the fifth and last part of Dr Blair's 
 Lectures, he treats of the different species 
 of literary composition. He begins with 
 historical writing, and defines the nature of 
 that, which is properly the subject of criti- 
 cism. The primary qualities of a great 
 historian are marked with precision; and 
 the character 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-
 
 64 
 
 losopher, the poet, and the historian, we 
 are told, all meet in him; though with rare 
 accomplishments he exhibits considerable 
 defects. 
 
 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- 
 ness, which, in the abstract speculations 
 respecting taste and universal grammar, he 
 never assumes. When he borrows 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; and he estimates the merit 
 of poets, both ancient and modern, by ap- 
 plying their works to a standard, in which 
 there is neither partiality nor prejudice. 
 
 From the general view taken of Dr Blair's 
 Lectures, 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 expected from them at the time
 
 65 
 
 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 
 merit was tried. The fame of its author as 
 a preacher had long been established. The 
 Sermons, which he delivered from the pul- 
 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 character, then, which Dr 
 Blair had acquired in his profession, when 
 his Lectures 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. 
 
 E
 
 66 
 
 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 slight defects his 
 malignant critics fastened their envenomed 
 tooth. In spite of every attempt, however, 
 to mislead the sense of the public, Dr Blair's 
 Lectures hold a respectable place in the 
 estimation of the learned. Though they 
 are not his most correct productions, yet 
 the taste of the author, and the value of his 
 collection, can never cease to command the 
 admiration of the discerning. The world 
 must ever feel indebted to his labours, and 
 must respect his ability as a critic, in which
 
 67 
 
 capacity only we have as yet had occasion 
 to view him. 
 
 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 doctrines 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
 
 68 
 
 person. Before instruction can be com- 
 municated, 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 
 instructions offered, is entitled to judge of 
 their excellence, by the effect which they 
 produce on himself. He, who believed be- 
 tbre, may have his faith confirmed ; and vir- 
 tuous impressions already existing may re- 
 ceive additional 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 
 mediocrity, yet few have attained to dis- 
 tinguished eminence. To the ambition of 
 churchmen, in some countries, no ordinary 
 objects are held forth. In these, however, 
 the vigour of the exertion has seldom cor- 
 responded with the value of the prize ; and
 
 fewer, perhaps, of the high exertions of 
 oratory have been heard from the pulpit, 
 than in the senate or at the bar. Each of 
 the three fields has advantages and disad- 
 vantages peculiar to itself; to which, in 
 order to ascertain what constitutes the merit 
 of a distinguished preacher, it may be pro- 
 per to attend. 
 
 The necessity of a liberal education may 
 be held common to all in the different 
 professions. Without this, the purposes of 
 nature in bestowing genius would be frus- 
 trated ; and her best gifts, unimproved, 
 would be beheld with regret. In acquir- 
 ing intellectual 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. Though
 
 70 
 
 no man of loose principles will be heard 
 with pleasure, and though the character of 
 the speaker always affects the weight of 
 his argument, yet in all the subjects of 
 eloquence, strict 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 approach to relaxed morality in the 
 first of these, is held venial from the situ- 
 ation in which the agent is placed. A more 
 liberal canon is applied to the conduct 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 con- 
 ceal 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 cen- 
 sure which would otherwise pursue them ; 
 and as long as the general character of the
 
 senator and the lawyer remains unim- 
 peached, the most rigorous standard is not 
 applied to the conduct of either. The si- 
 tuation of the preacher, in the respect 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 
 interpretation, yet little allowance is made 
 for his personal frailty. By exaggerating 
 the foibles of their instructor, men wish to 
 screen themselves from his reproof; and 
 by a foolish demand of perfection, where 
 it can never exist, they depreciate merit, 
 which is entitled to their respect. 
 
 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, affection must be ma- 
 nifest ; and though he " knows the terrors 
 of the Lord," he must " in meekness in-
 
 72 
 
 struct those that oppose themselves/' The 
 least symptom of arrogance would dimi- 
 nish his usefulness. It would create a jea- 
 lousy of those arts, upon which priestcraft 
 erects 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 crowd which he is cal- 
 led to address, very different portions of 
 .ability belong to those composing it. To 
 this original difference in mind, is to be 
 added, an endless variety of character, aris- 
 ing from modes of education, and from 
 casual prepossessions. One man is unable 
 to apprehend, what another is unwilling to 
 believe. The same sentiment which de- 
 lights people of one description, disgusts 
 those of an opposite. Though no innocent 
 prejudice should be shocked by the preach- 
 er, yet he must boldly censure what he can- 
 not palliate. By excessive lenity he might 
 betray the cause of virtue, which he is 
 bound to support ; and by excessive ri-
 
 gour, he might counteract 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
 
 In point of subject, the preacher seems 
 to possess advantages that cannot be dis- 
 sembled. It is one in which 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 
 transactions the rights of men are to be re- 
 spected ; 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 subject, in 
 point of sublimity, can be compared with 
 that, which treats of the being and the 
 perfections of God ? How do the sanctions 
 of human laws dwindle into nothing, when 
 opposed to those of the divine ! 
 
 The lawyer is often called to discuss 
 points that afford no room for displaying
 
 his eloquence. When he illustrates dark 
 subjects, 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 eviction 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 
 subjects 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 distinctions. 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 instinctively dread punish- 
 ment, and the innocent seek protection.
 
 He supposes the judge to be aware of its 
 sanctions, and reasons upon those great 
 principles of equity, which existed before 
 any human enactment, and were co-cval 
 with man. 
 
 . The deliberations in the senate afford a 
 field for eloquence, in some respects 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- 
 fect 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 
 expectation is roused by their subjects be- 
 ing previously known. The 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 subject of his dis- 
 course.
 
 77 
 
 Though the preacher chuses his subject 
 from a variety of topics, yet the range of 
 his choice is known to his hearers. Every 
 point of doctrine that he can adopt at 
 the time, must have repeatedly engaged 
 the attention of those whom he is called to 
 address. To subjects, thus trite and fami- 
 liar, no powers 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 subjects, 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 object 
 that is tangible and interesting ; while the 
 essence of those virtues and graces, which 
 the preacher delineates, is often too subtle 
 for either rousing the attention, or influ-
 
 78 
 
 encing the conduct, 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 enliven his genius, as in the se- 
 nate, and at the bar, where man sharpens 
 man. Where there is no conflict, 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 expected, when the speaker 
 is as much afraid to commit a fault, as the 
 hearer is eager to detect it. The preacher,
 
 79 
 
 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 respects, 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 : " L* eloquence de la 
 chaire, en ce qui y entre d'humain et du talent 
 de I'orateur, est cache e 9 connue de pen de per- 
 sonnes, et d'une difficile execution. II faut 
 marcher par des chemins battus, dire ce qui 
 a ete dit, et ce que I'onprevoit que vous allez
 
 80 
 
 dire : les matieres sont grandes, mais wees et 
 triviales ; les principes surs dont les audi- 
 tcurs penetrent les conclusions d'une seule 
 'cue: il y entre des sujets qui sont sublimes: 
 mais qui pent trailer le sublime ? Le predi- 
 cateur nest point soutenu, comme l'avocat,par 
 dcs faits toujours nouveaux, par de differens 
 evenemens, par des avantures monies ; il ne 
 s'exerce point sur les questions douteuses, il 
 ne fait point valoir les violentes conjectures, 
 et les presomptions ; toutes choses., neanmoins 
 qui eleven t le genie, lid donnent de la force, 
 et de Vet endue, et qui contraignent bien moins 
 I* eloquence qrfelles ne la fixent et ne la dirigent. 
 II doit au contraire, tirer son discours d'une 
 source commune et ou tout le monde puise ; et 
 sil s'ecarte de ces lieux communes, il n'est plus 
 populaire ; il est abstrait ou declamateur ; il 
 ne preche plus Tevangile ; il n a besoin que 
 d'une noble simplicite, mais ilfaut I'atteindre; 
 talent rare, et qui passe les forces du commun 
 des homines ; ce qu'ils ont de genie, d'imagi- 
 nation, d* erudition, et de memoir e, ne leur sert 
 touvent qu* a s'en eloigner. On croit voir
 
 81 
 
 qu'il est plus aise dc precher qite de plaider, 
 et plus difficile de bien precher que de bien 
 plaider." Les Caracteres, ou les meurs de 
 ce siecle. Tom. 2d. p. 2ol. 
 
 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 practise 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 neglect. 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- 
 ties not easily resisted, and to mortify the
 
 pride of man, by holding out to him a just, 
 though an humbling picture. 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 ex- 
 pence of every thing valuable to himself. 
 
 But it is the business of the preacher, not 
 only 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 doctrines upon their hearts, 
 he must appeal to their understandings. 
 Genuine eloquence shews itself by operat- 
 ing upon each, and renders both subser- 
 vient to one common end. It gives per- 
 manence to the emotion, that would be 
 otherwise transient, and energy to the con- 
 viction, that must stimulate an agent by 
 influencing his will. 
 
 In order to produce an effect so difficult 
 and momentous, every part of a sermon 
 must be composed with care. Though a
 
 83 
 
 man of genius shews himself even in a pro- 
 duction that is hasty, yet lie wounds the 
 discerning critic, who catches the least de- 
 fect, 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 subject must 
 be held forth as important, and such, at 
 the same time, as may be easily and shortly
 
 84 
 
 discussed. The docility of his hearers must 
 be secured by the removal of every prepos- 
 session against the point which he means 
 to establish. 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 introductions of Demos- 
 thenes, the orator almost forgets himself, 
 and presses forward to the business with an 
 ardour, which he seems often unable te 
 check. 
 
 In. the division of his discourse, the 
 preacher gives a specimen of his talents as 
 a logician. The distribution must be so 
 conducted, 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
 
 85 
 
 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 princi- 
 ples 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 distinct 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 correct, and 
 void of any ornament that might divert the 
 hearer's attention. The doctrine of his text 
 should be distinctly stated, and the slightest 
 boundary marked by which it is separated
 
 86 
 
 from that of other texts, though nearly al- 
 lied to it. 
 
 Each of the parts of a sermon thus treated 
 holds a distinct 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 
 correctness of his conceptions, as in di- 
 viding his discourse. Those drawn from 
 topics essentially distinct, should not be 
 blended ; and those that are similar, should 
 not be set asunder. By preserving uni- 
 formity in this respect, confusion is avoid- 
 ed. Whatever embarrasses the hearer, di- 
 minishes the speaker's power ; and the ge- 
 neral impression is enfeebled, when the
 
 means, intended to excite it, are not duly 
 distinguished. 
 
 In 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 
 reversed, 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 with a sound understanding. This 
 sensibility must be under the controul of 
 reason, and must display itself only in its 
 proper place. An injudicious attempt to
 
 88 
 
 rouse the feelings of an audience, disgusts 
 the discerning, and produces on the simple 
 no permanent effect. 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 indirect, when they would 
 resist any studied attempt ;, and they will 
 behold with coldness that false animation 
 in the speaker, in which they cannot parti- 
 cipate. 
 
 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 simplicity. 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 object 
 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
 
 89 
 
 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 
 feelings 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 conviction 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 object of his exertion was to persuade 
 them to what is good. 
 
 From the general difficulties, then, that 
 attend the eloquence which belongs to the
 
 Pulpit, and the art that is necessary for 
 composing a single discourse, it must be 
 no easy matter to earn the reputation of a 
 distinguished preacher. He, who stands 
 high in this department of letters, must 
 have suffered and done 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 what 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 reli- 
 gious duty. - His text is in Matthew, 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-
 
 91 
 
 traneous appears in the discourse; and 
 though the train of ideas is conducted with 
 philosophic precision, this seems to be done 
 without effort. 
 
 Father Bourdaloue, in the sixth Sermon 
 of his seventh volume, discourses upon idle- 
 ness also from the same text : " Poiirquoi 
 demeiirez vous id tout le jour sans rienfuire?" 
 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 
 duty, 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 sousfrairc 
 a la malediction du peche; parceque Dieu en 
 vous dormant ces biens najamais eu intention 
 de deroger a ses droits ; car I' obligation dit 
 travail et la necessite de la mort tiennent It 
 meme rang dans les divins dScrets."
 
 It does not appear, that the labour en- 
 tailed upon the human race is at all con- 
 nected with that active 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- 
 ject with high ability. He had proved, 
 that man might fail in the duty said to be 
 imposed upon him as a sinner, and he goes 
 on to prove, that he might fail in that 
 which is attached to his particular situa- 
 tion in the world. In this last view of the 
 subject, 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 exer-
 
 tion, says Dr Blair, the system of being is 
 preserved in vigour. By its different parts 
 always acting in subordination one to an- 
 other, the perfection of the whole is carried 
 on. The heavenly bodies perpetually re- 
 volve. Day and night incessantly repeat 
 their appointed course. " Ainsi" says the 
 Father, " voyons nous les deux et Its astres, 
 qui sont sur nos tetes dans un mouvement per- 
 petuel sans s'arreter une fois, et sans cesser 
 de repandre leurs 'influences" 
 
 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 
 active duties and offices, which all are cal- 
 led upon to perform in their turn. Supe-
 
 94 
 
 riors arc no more independent of their in- 
 feriors, than these inferiors are of them. It 
 is sometimes supposed, that industry and 
 diligence 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 fact, 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 active duties 
 widens on every hand/' " Je pretends," says 
 the French preacher, " qu a mesttre qtine 
 condition est plus clevee, elle est plus sujette a 
 ces devoirs quon ne peut accomplir sans unc 
 action assidue et const ante ; et c'cst id qi/'il 
 faut encore unefois q ue vous vous detrompicz des 
 fausses idees que vous avez des choses et d'une 
 erreur pernicieuse ou le monde vous a peut- 
 t'fre jusques a present entretenus. Car la 
 grande erreur du monde est de croire que 
 I'ekvation, le rang, la dignite sent antant des 
 droits acquis pour le repos, et pour la douceur
 
 95 
 
 cfe la vie. Mais la foi nous dit tout le con- 
 traire, et la raison est, que plus line condition 
 cst elevee, plus elh & de grandes obligations a 
 remplir." 
 
 Bourdalouc, with the happiest effect, in- 
 troduces the consequences of occasional 
 idleness upon three distinguished charac- 
 ters in the Old Testament, and bids his 
 hearers beware of the rock upon which 
 they split : " Nous ne sommes ni plus saint* 
 que David, ni plus eelaires que Salomon, ni 
 plus forts que Samson, et pour vivre dans la 
 retrnite, ?ious riavom pas moins a craindre les 
 desordres de Vouivite." 
 
 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 active dispositions of 
 man. It was impossible for the preacher 
 to regard the same exertion both as a pe-
 
 96 
 
 nance and a pleasure. Dr Blair, again, by 
 a more just and a fortunate view of his 
 subject, has employed the argument from 
 which Bourdaloue precludes himself, with 
 the happiest effect. 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 
 remain in continued inaction, all its powers 
 decay. It soon languishes and sickens ; 
 and the pleasures, which it proposed to 
 obtain from rest, end in tediousness and 
 insipidity." 
 
 One of the most eloquent Sermons that. 
 Dr Blair ever composed, is the fifth in the 
 first volume. The subject of it is the death 
 of Christ, and the text is taken from John, 
 xvii. 1. " Jesus lift up his eyes to heaven, 
 and said, Father, the hour is come" The 
 object of the preacher is to state those great 
 events which were about to take place du-
 
 97 
 
 ring an hour, the most critical which the 
 world had seen, since hours began to be 
 numbered. In the subject there is a na- 
 tive dignity, of which he was aware, and 
 determined 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 hu- 
 man race ; and each of these is kept dis- 
 tinct, and is beautifully illustrated. 
 
 Father Massillon, in the ninth Sermon 
 of his sixth volume, discourses upon the 
 same subject from a different text. His is 
 taken from John, xix. 30. and the words 
 are, " Tout est accompli." This consum- 
 mation 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 precision which exhausts the subject, 
 and which, at the same time, permits no- 
 thing extraneous to mingle with it. In the
 
 98 
 
 pathetic parts of the discourses, it is not 
 easy to say which of the preachers shines 
 most. Those flashes of imagination, which 
 serve to illuminate the subject, are in both 
 frequent and vivid. No attempt is ever 
 made to embellish, that does not succeed ; 
 and though the circumstances upon which 
 the ornament rests are sometimes different, 
 they are judiciously chosen. 
 
 The magnanimity of the dying Saviour 
 is a point upon which the powers of the 
 preachers are successfully turned. Every 
 attempt of his enemies to degrade, served 
 only to ennoble his character; 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
 
 99 
 
 possession of the same gentle and benevo- 
 lent spirit. He betrayed no symptom of a 
 weak or a vulgar, of a discomposed or an 
 impatient mind. With all the dignity of 
 a sovereign, he conferred pardon on a pe- 
 nitent fellow sufferer. With a greatness 
 of mind beyond example, he spent his last 
 moments in apologies and prayers for those 
 who were shedding his blood/' 
 
 " En effet" says Father Massillon, " on 
 salt assez que I'attente d'un tourment, quon 
 voit present et inevitable, est toujours plus 
 cruelle que le tourment meme; et quon meurt 
 d'une maniere mille fois plus douloureuse par 
 la crainte, que par la douleur. Or, la justice 
 du Perepresente distinct ement a lame duSau- 
 veur tout I' appare.il de la croix; la nuit du 
 Pretoire ; les crachats, les soiifflets, lesfouets, 
 Us derisions, le bois fatal; ces images qffreuses 
 la crucifient par avance Sur le Calvaire, toute 
 la nature en desordre s'interessera pour lui ; 
 ses tnnemis memes le reconnoitront pour Fils 
 de Dieu : id, ilsouffre dans les tenebres et dans 
 le silence; et ses plus chers disciples /' aban+ 
 donnerit."
 
 100 
 
 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 com- 
 posed 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 subject, he seems to have had abun- 
 dance of matter suggested by his own in- 
 vention. Every striking circumstance is 
 collected to heighten the splendour of the 
 description, and to support the intrinsic 
 dignity of his theme. The unaffected ar- 
 dour of the speaker does not prevent him 
 from seeing and pursuing the clearest me-
 
 thod. In the method 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 arrangement is Jaid hold of with- 
 out eifort, much art is successfully expend- 
 ed in concealing the art that is actually em- 
 ployed. 
 
 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 que- 
 stion as suggesting to every person, to whom 
 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 affected, by 
 attending to each of these periods ; and, 
 with his usual judgment, arranges his ob~ 
 servations 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
 
 102 
 
 have been hardly necessary to make it. 
 " .According to the progress which we have 
 made in the journey of life, the field which 
 past years present to our review 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 founded 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 un- 
 common. No thought seems to have been 
 borrowed ; but few, if any, carry the cha- 
 racter 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 of wonder. Dr John-
 
 103 
 
 son tells us, that the compounded word 
 insignificant does not, with the strictest pro- 
 priety, denote unimportant, though good 
 authorities seem to sanction 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 
 support it. 
 
 Father Massillon has a Sermon, in his 
 sixth volume, upon the same subject, from 
 Matthew, vii. 33. " Je suis encore avec 
 voiis un pcu de temps." The method adopt- 
 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 direct. A wise man, it is said
 
 104 
 
 by both, while he neglects 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; and in the execution through- 
 out, it should seem the French preacher 
 has rather 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 object is to 
 justify the divine wisdom and goodness, in 
 giving us but an imperfect knowledge of a 
 future state. The nature of the subject evi- 
 dently requires a greater reach of thought, 
 than most writers of sermons are capable
 
 105 
 
 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 expres- 
 sion which shone forth in this preacher. 1 
 
 The introduction 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 enquiry with a be- 
 coming solemnity, and seems aware of the 
 difficulties before him. He, in his own 
 language, 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 announced with sufficient clear- 
 ness, without adopting any method, or re- 
 gular division into heads. 
 
 Although the obscurity in which we are 
 involved, as to the future state of man, bears 
 a strict analogy to what prevails in other 
 parts of religion, both natural and revealed, 
 yet upon this analogy no argument is found-
 
 106 
 
 ed. The sceptic is called upon to correct 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 active being, would cease to 
 be exercised. Earthly concerns would not 
 then engage his attention. No object would 
 kindle the spirit of enterprize, 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 ob- 
 
 o 
 
 jects around him are viewed with indiffe- 
 rence, 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 act his part, would be chan- 
 ged. The conflict between faith and sense, 
 between conscience and desire, between 
 present pleasure and future good, would 
 rcase. Were there no difficulties to sur-
 
 mount, it is shewn, there could be no pro- 
 gress towards perfection. Human life would 
 be no longer that state of discipline which 
 is to meliorate the character 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 ne- 
 glect the concerns of that which is present. 
 Supposed blemishes, then, in our moral 
 constitution, are real perfections ; and the 
 defects 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 correctly stated, or more 
 logically carried on. The composition is
 
 108 
 
 us elegant as the subject 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 characteristic of his 
 manner of preaching, than that upon Gen- 
 tleness. For writing on such a subject, 
 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
 
 109 
 
 words of the text are from James, iii. 17. 
 " The wisdom that is from above is gentle/' 
 
 In the introduction, the preacher does 
 nothing more than state the importance of 
 his subject, 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 
 estimation of men. Though one which, as 
 Christians, we are bound to cultivate, yet 
 it is degraded by many into a mere exter- 
 nal accomplishment, and considered as a 
 mask for covering what is offensive in man- 
 ners. With a view to correct such false 
 notions, Dr Blair proposes to explain the 
 nature of the virtue, and offers some argu- 
 ments to recommend, and some directions 
 to facilitate, the practice of it. 
 
 The virtue of gentleness is defined with 
 uncommon precision. It is distinguished 
 from that passive tameness, and unlimited 
 complaisance, which form the character of 
 a sycophant, and which are destructive of 
 every thing like steadiness of principle. It 
 is described as that branch of charity which
 
 110 
 
 makes us unwilling to give pain to any of 
 our brethren. There is no particular pe- 
 riod at which its exercise is more proper 
 than 'another. It should diffuse itself ha- 
 bitually over our whole behaviour, and re- 
 gulate both our speech and our actions. 
 
 After separating gentleness from that 
 meanness 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 exter- 
 nal manners pleasing. It is the snare em- 
 ployed by the artful, when they mean to 
 entrap the unwary, and the cloak of the 
 unfeeling, when they would disguise their 
 intrigues against the innocent and unsuspi- 
 cious. True gentleness, on the other hand, 
 is said to be native feeling, heightened and 
 improved by principle. It is as unwilling 
 to inflict, as it is ready to heal, a wound. 
 While it seeks to please, it is unwilling to 
 dazzle, and conceals every ground of supe- 
 riority which might be oppressive to those 
 beneath it.
 
 The practice of gentleness is recom- 
 mended, from considering the duty which 
 we owe to God. That greatness, which 
 is conspicuous in his works, is softened 
 by the view which he has given of him- 
 self in his word. In the character of our 
 Saviour, no point is so prominent as his 
 gentleness and condescension. In his ac- 
 cess, he was easy ; in his manners, sim- 
 ple ; in his answers, mild. Do we pretend 
 respect 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 character. 
 
 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 ordinary intercourse of life that gentle- 
 ness shews itself. Great situations call for 
 great virtues ; but the virtue recommended 
 is formed and supported, not by unfrequent 
 acts, but by daily exertions. 
 
 Last of all, the practice 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 practice of gentleness is facilitated, 
 by examining our own character, 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 reflect,
 
 too, on the trivial nature of those objects, 
 which often excite contention. When the 
 cause of animosity is gone, its effects often 
 remain ; and had violence been restrained 
 for a moment, these effects had never ex- 
 isted. We are, above all things, to regard 
 this world as but a state of passage, and 
 keep at a due distance from those grating 
 objects which every where surround us. 
 Our minds will then become calm and se- 
 date, 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 
 correct 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 
 
 H
 
 114 
 
 the antithesis, besides, might have beeu 
 equally well preserved by opposing the 
 participle distressed to the adjective un- 
 feeling^ and the whole would have stood 
 thus : " We are rigorous to offenders, and 
 unfeeling to the distressed." 
 
 Under the same head there is a simile, 
 in which the resemblance seems to be ra- 
 ther far pursued. " Easily, and from the 
 smallest chink, the bitter waters of strife 
 are let forth ; but with difficulty is their 
 course restrained ; and when once they be- 
 gin to flow, they never fail to poison his 
 cup, who was the first to give them pas- 
 sage." The purpose of the comparison ap- 
 pears 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 
 understood, they are conceived to punish 
 the person said to have first given them 
 passage, and to be then doomed to drink 
 them.
 
 Though some objection 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- 
 nished from it, is beautifully described : 
 " The solitude of the desert were prefer- 
 able to it. The conflict 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 blaze of the comet, but regular in its 
 returns, 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 with the expression, " fans
 
 116 
 
 the air." As the air is the fanning sub- 
 stance, it is not easy to see how 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 
 was 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 character, which marked his early, 
 marks also his advanced years. He re- 
 tained to the last the art of instructing, and 
 even reproving, the thoughtless, and, at the 
 same time, of convincing them that he was 
 really their friend.
 
 117 
 
 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 that 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 counteract the de- 
 cree of Providence, and to render their 
 state upon earth what it was never design- 
 ed to be. For this purpose he considers, 
 in the first place, the obvious consequences 
 of a life of dissipation, upon health, fortune, 
 and character. The first, he tells us, the 
 most valuable of all human blessings, is 
 readily sacrificed at the shrine of pleasure ; 
 and hence, if life is not shortened, comes 
 the debilitated body, and the premature 
 old age. No fortune, however affluent, can 
 resist the effects of profusion in those, by 
 whom prudent ceconomy is disdained as a 
 mean attention. They become the prey
 
 118 
 
 of the crafty, who fatten on their spoils, 
 and see nothing remaining to them but the 
 ruins of a broken fortune. As the charac- 
 ter of the dissipated man is necessarily con- 
 spicuous, it is marked at once, and rigo- 
 rously condemned. The respeptable and 
 the grave smile at his follies, and avoid his 
 company. He thus either 'dwindles into 
 insignificance, or shines in those fashion- 
 able assemblies only, in which it is a dis- 
 grace 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 in future. 
 Then is the creditor defrauded, the tenant 
 is racked, and friends are plundered. Re- 
 course is had to the gaining table, as the 
 last means of supplying unbounded ex- 
 pence. To how many bad passions, and
 
 how many base arts, does this give rise t 
 The wretch, that sits down at this fatal ta- 
 ble, full of eagerness and hope, rises hag- 
 gard and forlorn, cursing his fate, and 
 threatening, 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 direct, is still able to sting 
 them In the midst of their riot, spectres 
 haunt their imagination, and poison their 
 joys. The very portraits of their ances- 
 tors seem to frown on that licentious waste, 
 which scatters the fortune which their vir- 
 tues had acquired. 
 
 Last of all, dissipation is shewn 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
 
 no 
 
 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 relaxa- 
 tion, not as the business, of life. 
 
 Dr Finlayson, speaking of this sermon, 
 in the very able, though short, Life of Dr
 
 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 
 conduct is highly important to the com- 
 munity, and whose reformation and virtue 
 he had long laboured most zealously to 
 promote/' 
 
 Though this discourse was written when 
 the author was far advanced in life, yet it 
 discovers nothing like a decay either of 
 intellect or of fancy. The method adopted 
 is as strictly 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 exact place 
 which belongs to it as a part of the whole. 
 The comparisons, which are frequent, are 
 just, and elucidate the subject they are 
 meant to explain. When the purpose of 
 explanation is served by them, the author 
 stops, and makes no demand upon the iiua-
 
 gination of the reader, which is not willingly 
 granted. Even in those metaphors winch 
 approach each other in point of subject, 
 there is no mixture ; but the chaste ele- 
 gance of the preacher makes each run in 
 its own tract, however thinly separated 
 from that of the rest. Pleasure, he tells 
 us, not regulated by temperance, is no 
 more than a momentary explosion, a tran- 
 sient gush, a torrent that comes down im- 
 petuously, sparkling and foaming in its 
 course, but which soon runs out, and leaves 
 a muddy and polluted channel. The gush 
 and the torrent agree in referring to the 
 violent emission of water, and to the short- 
 ness of its duration ; but the former is con- 
 fined to no channel, and leaves nothing of- 
 fensive when it is gone. 
 
 The last Sermon which Dr Blair com- 
 posed and delivered, was that preached 
 before the Society for the Benefit of the 
 Sons of the Clergy. It was with some dif- 
 ficulty that his friends prevailed upon him 
 to perform this service to the church. 1'eel-
 
 J2S 
 
 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. 11. " Leave 
 thy fatherless children, I will preserve them 
 alive, and let thy widows trust in me/' 
 
 Some observations upon the goodness of 
 God, form the subject of the introduction. 
 Throughout the world, he says, there is 
 no instance 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 
 object of the preacher is to enquire, why 
 God is pleased to represent himself so often 
 to us under this vie\v. Such discoveries
 
 124 
 
 are said to serve two important purposes: 
 They furnish particular ground of trust in 
 God, amidst all the vicissitudes of human 
 life ; and they exhibit the pattern of that 
 disposition which we ought, in our mea- 
 sure, humbly to follow and imitate. 
 
 Compassion, under the first 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 object of our 
 trust. It is in man the most benevolent of 
 his instincts; and the belief 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 any 
 violent emotion, ever maintains the same 
 tranquil tenor, like the unruffled serenity 
 of the highest heavens. Tht, same princi- 
 ple which prompts the Almighty to regard 
 our natural and external distresses, extends
 
 125 
 
 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 affections 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 recog- 
 nized and obeyed.
 
 126 
 
 After establishing the two points laid 
 down in his rnetiiod, Dr Blair comes to ad- 
 dress his audience upon the subject 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 conviction, that there exists no 
 where a more respectable 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 al- 
 lowed 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 world. 
 
 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.
 
 to whom his chief care had been devoted, 
 and in whom his heart had been bound 
 up. He is supposed to have chearfulJy 
 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 fi- 
 nished, and these children have to go forth 
 into a world which to them is unknown. 
 Some of their father's friends have been 
 laid in 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 protec- 
 tion of their father's God. How happy if 
 such a voice reached him : " Leave thy 
 fatherless children; 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
 
 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 genero- 
 sity, they may be now ripening in secret 
 the seeds of future genius, and giving the 
 virtuous, who need protection, a fair ad van- 
 tage over those in whom opulence super- 
 sedes labour, encourages indolence, and 
 perhaps fosters dissipation. 
 
 If we consider, that the author of this 
 sermon was in the 79th 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 introduction, he anti- 
 cipates nothing which should be reserved 
 for the body of his discourse ; and thus 
 
 5
 
 129 
 
 shews, that his inventive talent was undi- 
 minished : In his division of his subject, 
 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, 
 
 i
 
 130 
 
 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 character 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. Every 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 fictitious 
 circumstances, would have admitted a co- 
 louring which the facts related of Joseph, 
 as real history, do not. Of course, it pre- 
 sented a subject that might have been more 
 easily embellished, and which made a small-
 
 131 
 
 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 correct ; so that no- 
 thing is to be found in it, to which the 
 most squeamish critic could object. He is 
 said to have delivered the sermon with un- 
 common spirit. His audience was one of 
 the most numerous and respectable 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, mix- 
 ed 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 eloquence of the pulpit. The French
 
 preacher generally addresses the imagina- 
 tion and passions ; rouses his audience by 
 an animated harangue ; and is at more 
 pains to embellish a few thoughts thinly 
 spread out, than to exhibit any rich varie- 
 ty of sentiment. The English preacher, 
 on the other hand, who is often of a tem- 
 per more cold and phlegmatic, tries to ac- 
 complish his purpose by very different 
 means. He regards his hearer as an in- 
 tellectual, rather 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 fact, they do not apprehend. He is 
 more anxious to convince than to persuade 
 them, and looks for a higher and more 
 permanent effect, from influencing the un- 
 derstanding than the heart. The French 
 preachers complain of the English mode of 
 preaching, as ill suited to produce its highest 
 effects. " Les sermons chez les Anglois, sont 
 dcs (UsGUSsiom mttaphysiqiies, plus convenable
 
 133 
 
 o une academic qu'aux assemblies populaires, 
 qui se forment dans nos temples." * 
 
 Between the extremes of English accu- 
 
 o 
 
 racy and French animation, the model of 
 a perfect 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 rest 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 effect. The person, too, 
 whose understanding is thus satisfied, does 
 not acquiesce in his conviction, as if it 
 arose from a mathematical proof. It sti- 
 mulates to action with a well-regulated im- 
 pulse ; and while it adds to the wisdom of 
 the hearer, it imparts to him both the de- 
 sire and the power of turning that wisdom 
 to the advantage of society. 
 
 * Rhetorique Francoise, par M. Crevier, Tom. I. 
 p. 134.
 
 134 
 
 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- 
 troul. The figures which he employs are 
 seen at once to have a foundation in na- 
 ture, 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- 
 ject is simple and luminous, and each sub- 
 ordinate part is found to hold the place 
 that strictly 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 knowledge 
 he earned by reading the writings of those 
 most deeply skilled in the science; not from 
 much intercourse with men in the scenes 
 of active life. He could make his hearers
 
 135 
 
 perceive their characters in a light that was 
 new to them. Leaving to others those ge- 
 neral descriptions, which, being applicable 
 almost to all, arrest the attention of none, 
 he spoke home to the individual in the lan- 
 guage which he understood. He shewed 
 himself to be not only a correct, but a de- 
 licate observer of human nature ; and by 
 the beauty and the justness of his execu- 
 tion in the picture at large, could reconcile 
 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 affect 
 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
 
 136 
 
 unity by a needless correctness. Their af- 
 fectation of learning is still more striking. 
 Passages are at times selected 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 
 ol their mutability ; and that, in respect to
 
 13? 
 
 us, it is a rapid and reflecting spirit : " un 
 esprit rapide et passager" In support of 
 this conceit, he quotes that passage in the 
 Psalms, in which the wind is said to pass 
 over the flower of the field, and it is gone. 
 " Spiritus pertransibit in illo, et non consis* 
 tet" Ps. ciii. 16. 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 I'ecriture employes par les predica- 
 teurs doivent etre present es sous lew vrai sens, 
 et non pas tires par force au sujet, par des in- 
 terpretations touches, et des allusions arbi- 
 traires" 
 
 Though such scriptural allusions are 
 more common among the French than any
 
 138 
 
 other set of preachers, yet, even in Eng- 
 land, they were sometimes found to dis- 
 grace the dignity of the pulpit. They give 
 to a sermon an affected smartness, which is 
 not its proper character ; and to a preach- 
 er, 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 hear- 
 er 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 respect 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.
 
 139 
 
 But although the French preachers some- 
 times fail in these respects, 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 effects which their ser- 
 mons produced. Voltaire records this fact, 
 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 
 
 o 
 
 be roused, and he knew the very point at
 
 140 
 
 which those feelings should stop. In his 
 composition, 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 prefe- 
 rence. 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 defect in intellectual 
 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
 
 141 
 
 less disposed to instruct his audience than 
 to set off his learning. Massillon and Bour- 
 daloue may well be allowed to have been 
 the ornament of the French pulpit, and to 
 have carried the art of preaching an un- 
 common length. Of the two, however, we 
 hold the first to have been the greater per- 
 former, 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, " Sur Tlmmendte de 
 Dieu," he shews much talent for discrimi- 
 nation. Of this superiority, however, lift
 
 seems rather too conscious, and courts oc- 
 casions 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 Funebres," from the solemnity of their 
 subject, 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 effect. The ardour and viva- 
 city of his genius is fitted for the animated 
 kinds of oratory, which the more correct, 
 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 respect to time, to place, to character, 
 is touched as it should be ; and upon no 
 one of these does he dwell longer than its
 
 143 
 
 importance deserves. In his funeral ora- 
 tion upon the death of the Duchess of 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 puissante Princesse Henriette 
 Anne d' Angleterre, Duchesse d'Orleans. Elle, 
 que favois vue si attentive pendant que je 
 rendois le meme devoir a la Reine sa mere, 
 devoit etre sitot apres le sujet d'un discours 
 semblable ; et ma triste VOLT etoit reservee a ce 
 deplorable ministere. vanite ! O neant ! 
 O mortels i^norans de leurs destinees ! L'eut 
 
 o 
 
 elle cru il y a dix mois ? Et vous, Messieurs, 
 eussiez vous penses, pendant quelle versoit 
 tant de larmes en ce lieu, qu'elle du sitot 
 vous y rassembler pour la pleurer elle meme? 
 Princesse, le digne objet de Tadmiration de 
 deux grands royaumes, n'etoit ce pas assez 
 que I'Angleterre pleurat votre absence sans 
 etre encore reduite ct pleurer votre mort ? Et 
 La France, qui vous revit avec tant de joic 
 cnvironnee d' un nouvel eclat riavoit-elle plus
 
 144 
 
 d'autres pompes et d'autres triomphes pour 
 vous, au retour de ce voyage fanteuv, d'ou 
 vous aviez remporte tant de gloire, et de si 
 belles esperances? Vanite des vanites ! et tout 
 est vanite ! C'est la settle parole qui me reste : 
 c'est la seule reflexion que me per met dans un 
 accident si etrange, une si juste, et si sensible 
 doulcur" 
 
 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 ; and his apo- 
 strophe to the deceased prince, at the end, 
 has the happiest effect. 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-
 
 145 
 
 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 adultety, 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
 
 146 
 
 < 
 
 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 attended at 
 the cross, by him she spoke and said, truly 
 this man was the Son of God." 
 
 The high taste with which this figure is 
 conducted, 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-
 
 147 
 
 ever, does not present itself; and yet we 
 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 tem- 
 perate 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 " Panegyriques" 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 " Laudationes" He 
 draws his characters with a very master- 
 ly hand. In the " Panegyrique de Saint 
 Louis" you see as clearly the qualities that 
 give eminence to an illustrious monarch, as 
 in that, " De Saint Thomas Archeveque de 
 Canterbtrry" you see those that distinguish 
 a persecuted churchman. His Sermons 
 upon ordinary subjects are rich iu matter,
 
 148 
 
 which is clearly his own. He exhibits a 
 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 Doctor 
 has borrowed any thing from him. In his 
 Sermon upon the use of afflictions, you see 
 a preacher deeply interested in the truths 
 which he is enforcing; but, in the midst of 
 his ardour, treating his subject with a sim- 
 plicity not commonly exhibited in the 
 French pulpit. 
 
 " Les Oeiwres Spiritudles" of Fenelon, 
 Archbishop of Cambray, contain rather 
 loose hints upon a number of religious 
 subjects, than regular Sermons upon any 
 one. From these hints, however, owing 
 to the manner in which they are thrown 
 together, succeeding preachers may have 
 availed themselves ; and the plagiarism, 
 at the same time, may not have been ea- 
 sily detected. In his Dialogues upon Elo- 
 quence, the Archbishop shews himself a
 
 149 
 
 great enemy to the division of sermons in- 
 to heads. Dr Blair differs from him upon 
 this point, both in opinion and in practice. 
 Among English preachers, the practice of 
 dividing their discourses is almost constant- 
 ly maintained ; and, among the French, 
 the laying 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 doctrine 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 imita- 
 tion '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.,
 
 150 
 
 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 En- 
 glish 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 were laid aside, 
 as unbecoming the dignity of the pulpit. 
 English preaching became dry and argu- 
 mentative. A sermon was no longer a 
 persuasive popular oration, but approach- 
 ed to a cold metaphysical essay, in which 
 man is treated as a being of pure intellect, 
 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 instructed in it ; but were he, as most 
 hearers are, only unwilling to perform it, 
 no means of persuasion were so much as
 
 151 
 
 tried. The sermon did not interest the 
 heart ; and the audience retired from it, as 
 little disposed to renounce old Vices, and 
 to practise new virtues, as before it was 
 delivered. 
 
 In the powers of abstract thought and 
 acute reasoning, Dr Clark, Dr Barrow, and 
 Bishop Butler, have perhaps no superiors. 
 Respectable 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 
 conduct. 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
 
 152 
 
 apprehension, they gain nothing in point 
 either of intellectual 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 
 conduct of man can be successfully regu- 
 lated by those only, who know his com- 
 pound nature, 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 in- 
 sinuation 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.
 
 153 
 
 Bishop Atterbury has perhaps come as 
 near the standard, by which a good preach- 
 er is to be judged of, as any English preach^ 
 er whatever. In his sentiment he is al- 
 ways rational, and often acute; 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 character 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 defects of its 
 style of preaching, as well as those that be- 
 long to himself. We might be accused of
 
 154 
 
 partiality to the country to which Dr Blair 
 Jong 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
 
 155 
 
 who envy his fame, hold it prudent to be 
 silent, and to seem to set every thing like 
 jealousy asleep. They are afraid to en- 
 counter that tide of public opinion, by 
 which they are 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 super- 
 ficial. In both countries they have, at 
 once, given pleasure to the gay, and conso- 
 lation to the serious. By such a mixture 
 of beauty and usefulness, as the world ne- 
 ver before witnessed in their line, they have 
 given fashion to a kind of reading that 
 had long been discarded. They have stop- 
 ped even the voluptuary in his career, and 
 made him leave the haunts of dissipation, 
 that he might listen to the preacher's re- 
 proof.
 
 156 
 
 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 y in the two first re- 
 spects, he appears to have a right to our 
 admiration, 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 
 instruction without giving offence ; and,
 
 15? 
 
 while indulging a species of wit, in which 
 there was no sarcasm, he seemed happy in 
 curing trifling: defects. 
 
 o o 
 
 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 qutererent famam pauci interpreta- 
 rentur" 
 
 Several of Dr Blair's acquaintance, par- 
 ticularly females, to whom his company 
 was highly acceptable, felt mortified occa-
 
 158 
 
 sionally, either with his silence, or with his 
 talking upon subjects 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- 
 collecting the circumstance, from which he 
 judged of the character 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 defects of the 
 characters he was surveying ; and his si- 
 lence was formidable to those only who 
 were strangers to the amiableness of his 
 heart.
 
 159 
 
 In order to convince the female admi- 
 rers of Dr Blair, that he was not superci- 
 lious in company, and that he could bear 
 his part in conversation upon any subject 
 whatever, his friends sometimes laid plans 
 that were almost always successful. If 
 they introduced any literary topic upon 
 which they seemed deficient in informa- 
 tion, the Doctor 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 publication was spoken of, that 
 was better known to him than to the rest 
 of the company, he was ready to satisfy 
 the curiosity of every body around him. 
 Any misapprehension, whether real or pre- 
 tended, he was ready to obviate. His cri- 
 tical remarks were, upon such occasions, 
 worthy of himself; and his wish to com- 
 municate whatever he knew, bore a testi- 
 mony, of which he was unconscious, that 
 he was formed for social intercourse, and
 
 160 
 
 as amiable in private as he was respectable 
 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 affected 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
 
 161 
 
 sprung from what the great historian, just 
 quoted, calls a " fiducia morum potius quam 
 arrogantia" 
 
 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 attracted 
 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 instruction was to be ei-
 
 162 
 
 / 
 
 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, when not too frequent- 
 ly introduced, furnished him with amuse- 
 ment. 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 com- 
 pany of his friends as the best recreation 
 from his serious studies ; and as, while en- 
 joying it, he made no idle display of his 
 own learning, so he witnessed, with uneasi- 
 ness, 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 were apt to 
 neglect. 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
 
 163 
 
 young people of every description. By 
 such unexpected attentions from a man 
 whom they were taught to respect, he soon 
 gained their confidence, and he saw the 
 early features of their characters appearing 
 without disguise. He could thus success- 
 fully encourage every sentiment that was 
 amiable, and check whatever was the con- 
 trary. 
 
 The subjects of conversation upon which 
 Dr Blair ordinarily dwelt, appeared to ma- 
 ny people so very trifling, as to be almost 
 beneath his notice. Had he not given un- 
 equivocal proofs of his being able to at- 
 tend to higher objects, 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 object, as the size, the shape, and 
 the furniture of a room, if in any degree 
 remarkable, never failed to attract his no- 
 tice. From circumstances unheeded by 
 every body else, he could extract enter- 
 tainment. No novelty in the dress of others
 
 164 
 
 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 respect. 
 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 satisfaction 
 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 
 perfectly, at the same time, what was due 
 to himself, and would have felt the denial 
 of that attention, which he thought it be-
 
 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 re- 
 spected those friends only who respected 
 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 diffi- 
 dence, and he stated carefully the reason 
 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 prevented 
 them from judging and acting for them- 
 selves.
 
 166 
 
 After the establishment of the Society for 
 the Benefit of the Sons of the Clergy of 
 Scotland, which took place in 1790, Dv 
 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
 
 167 
 
 to 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 instructive to 
 his audience. Reflecting, 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
 
 168 
 
 sermon was heard, the funds of the Society 
 derived unexampled benefit. The collec- 
 tion made 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 effects 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 
 effect 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 
 L. 50 in addition.
 
 169 
 
 In the number of those, whose influence 
 prevailed with Dr Blair to preach his ser- 
 mon for the sons of the clergy, was Dr 
 Carl vie 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 acknowledge- 
 ments for anecdotes respecting his friend, 
 which no one but himself could have fur- 
 nished, and for much general assistance in 
 the compilation of this work, which could 
 have been derived 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 ;
 
 170 
 
 and if the feeling was ever strong, 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. Perfection in the character 
 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 
 
 o 
 
 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
 
 171 
 
 rose, upon his wrath. He felt too strongly 
 the force of those doctrines which he in- 
 culcated upon others, to be himself the 
 slave of passion. If the object of his dis- 
 pleasure was not too hastily offejided 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 
 person who had unfortunately lost, was 
 anxious to regain his favour, he was al- 
 most 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 Agri- 
 cola, was strictly applicable to this amiable 
 man : " Ceterum ex iracundia nihll supere- 
 rat : secrctum et silentmm ejus non timeres ; 
 honest ins putabat offender e quam odissc." 
 
 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
 
 172 
 
 for the display of his patience. His friends, 
 accordingly, were sometimes mistaken as 
 to the light in which he would view parti- 
 cular actions respecting himself. To some, 
 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 Lectures 
 in 1783, he was desirous that his friends 
 should revise them. He wished to profit 
 by their remarks, and to correct, 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 Lectures, 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-
 
 173 
 
 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 ex- 
 ecution of that master, to whom I owed 
 any critical skill I possessed. My learned 
 friend, however, pressed his request in such 
 terms, that it was impossible to deny it. 
 
 Though I undertook the duty assigned 
 me with reluctance, yet I resolved to per- 
 form it in the best way I could. The can- 
 dour of the learned author of the Lectures 
 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-
 
 174 
 
 ture would 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 con- 
 ceal 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
 
 175 
 
 he wished them to be. I had afterwards 
 the satisfaction 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 ap- 
 pointed to his office ; and he added, that 
 when a composition was careless in its first 
 draught, it was almost impossible after- 
 wards to make it correct. 
 
 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 character. The other is,
 
 176 
 
 that when his Lectures 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 productions 
 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 connected, 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 mirch he disappro- 
 ved of Mr Hume's tenets in matters of re- 
 Jigion, yet he respected him as a man of 
 science. Even to the enemy of that cause,
 
 177 
 
 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 impres- 
 sions of public folly, when he first appear- 
 ed as an historian, and foresaw a period 
 when political prejudice would yield to the 
 force of truth. He enjoyed the liberality 
 of his manners as a private friend, and that 
 chearfulness of temper which enlivened eve- 
 ry circle in which he was a companion. 
 He felt the value of that unsuspicious gaie- 
 ty, in which there was nothing frivolous, 
 but which was, in him, connected with eve- 
 ry talent which mankind are willing to re- 
 spect. 
 
 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 of friendship that sub- 
 sisted betwixt Dr Blair and Dr Robertson, 
 were much less frequently interrupted than 
 
 M
 
 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 charac- 
 ter 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 address in the management of busi- 
 ness, which would have done honour to a 
 statesman, and which enabled his friend so 
 long to direct the affairs of the Church. He 
 admired that moderation with which he 
 wished to effect his purposes, and which, 
 with him, was almost always a success- 
 ful instrument. He knew the amiableness 
 of his manners in private life, and respect- 
 ed 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
 
 179 
 
 each possessed, whether in common, or 
 otherwise, but availed themselves of that 
 critical skill for which both were distin- 
 guished. Neither of them ever presented 
 a work to the public which the other had 
 not revised. Devoid of every thing like 
 jealousy, the reproof that was given with- 
 out restraint, was received like the admo- 
 nition 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 be- 
 tween themselves, the reception which he 
 was to meet with from the public. 
 
 Dr Blair's connection 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 
 Lectures upon Rhetoric and Belles Let- 
 tres, and was the first, in this country, who 
 ever made the attempt. Upon any sub- 
 ject, to which the mind of Dr Smith direct- 
 ed itself, it was capable of throwing light. 
 A timid enquirer, which Dr Blair natural- 
 ly was, felt the benefit of such a friend,
 
 180 
 
 and gladly availed himself of every advan- 
 tage which his company 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 Buccleuch, 
 the intimacy between him and Dr Blair 
 was necessarily suspended. Upon the re- 
 turn of the former to Edinburgh, the sub- 
 ject of his studies had changed. From 
 being purely literary, they had become po- 
 litical, and he was about to deliver to the 
 world his work upon the Wealth of Na- 
 tions. 
 
 It appears, in Dr Blair's Lectures, 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 subsisted 
 between them accordingly suffered no in- 
 terruption. As few men were less apt to
 
 181 
 
 be suspicious than Dr Blair, so his love for 
 his friend continued unimpaired till his 
 death. He respected Dr Smith as a man 
 of delicate taste, of extensive information, 
 and of profound science. Still, however, 
 he was not blind to the eccentricities of his 
 character, and was often amused with the 
 opposite views which he took of the same 
 subject, 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- 
 racter 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 unreasona- 
 ble pretension he treated with contempt.
 
 182 
 
 While Dr Blair felt the applause of the 
 world with a keenness that exposed him to 
 the imputation of vanity, he was, at the 
 same time, free from every thing like arro- 
 gance. 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 accep- 
 table to Dr Fergusson. He loved the man 
 who, though beloved by every body around 
 him, took no advantage of his superiority, 
 and increased 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-
 
 183 
 
 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, 
 while, by a display of talents that was not 
 ostentatious, he commanded their respect. 
 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
 
 184 
 
 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 Edm* 
 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.
 
 185 
 
 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 were others who acted to- 
 wards him both as patrons and friends, and 
 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, afterwards 
 General Eraser. 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.
 
 186 
 
 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 was appointed to 
 the command of the 71st Regiment, he 
 testified his respect for his old tutor, by 
 making him chaplain to one of its batta- 
 lions. This mark of attention was altoge- 
 ther 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 immediately 
 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.
 
 187 
 
 There were few people of eminence, m 
 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 Doctor'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 Ser- 
 mons, 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 respect for the litera- 
 ture of the country, prevented him from
 
 188 
 
 sporting with the feelings 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. \V hen 
 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 effect 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 Doctor 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 power to cultivate for the longest 
 period, was that with Lord Viscount Mel-
 
 189 
 
 ville. As early as the year 1739, he had 
 dedicated his thesis, " De Fundamentis et 
 Obligatione Legis Nature" 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 instructor ventured to predict 
 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-
 
 190 
 
 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 dis- 
 cernment of that patron, to whose muni- 
 ficence he was so much indebted. Every 
 favour which he received, was multa dantis 
 cum laude, and did honour to the hand that 
 bestowed it. In the year 1780, his Majes- 
 ty was graciously pleased to grant him a 
 pension of L. 200. In procuring him this 
 proof of royal favour, Lord Melville would 
 doubtless take an active 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 
 
 8
 
 191 
 
 they were delivered by the author, as when 
 they were read by others. In his manner 
 there was a stiffness which eclipsed 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 subject, 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 judge correctly upon 
 political subjects, were ready to be directed
 
 192 
 
 by him, whose sentiments upon religious to- 
 pics they believed to be unerring, lie 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 rejected 
 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 insidious appear- 
 ance 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 productive of the hap- 
 piest effects on the public mind. Even 
 with all the energy which his Majesty's 
 ministers possessed, the task of stem- 
 in ing the torrent which then threatened to 
 overwhelm the nation, was by no means 
 easy. Though few among the learned in
 
 193 
 
 Scotland were suspected of any desire to 
 betray the cause of their country, yet even 
 among them, patriotic zeal appeared in 
 very different degrees. In the encourage- 
 ment of this capital virtue, which both rea- 
 son and religion recommend, Dr Blair took 
 a decided and an active share. No mean 
 disposition to temporize upon his own part, 
 or to avail himself of connections 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 de- 
 scendant 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.
 
 194 
 
 During the crisis now spoken of, the con- 
 nection 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- 
 tunities of shewing his judgment in the bu-
 
 195 
 
 siness of life, yet he possessed that power 
 in an uncommon degree. His unwilling- 
 ness to mingle in its active scenes, created 
 a suspicion of his being unable to do so. 
 This opinion could be formed by those 
 only who knew not his character. Had he 
 chosen to be active 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 direct- 
 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 active life. The delicacy of his 
 feelings seemed to disqualify him for en-
 
 196 
 
 during the rude shocks to which scram- 
 blers for power must often submit. He 
 had too much sensibility to bear an unde- 
 served insult with indifference, 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 character, 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 act. 
 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 was 
 conscious, seemed to conceal from him the 
 duplicity of others. AVhen he mistook the 
 character of the man with whom he was 
 called to do business, his error almost al- 
 ways proceeded from the excess of bene-
 
 197 
 
 volence. The amiableness of the cause 
 upon such occasions, furnished the best 
 apology for its immediate effect. 
 
 But although Dr Blair was thus averse 
 from entering into the bustle of active life, 
 and, for the reasons now mentioned, but 
 imperfectly 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 
 act. With an unsuspecting 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^ 
 pies upon which he acted, yet he never 
 under-rated those who followed a different 
 course, or boasted of that wisdom by which 
 he obtained his object. No man ever
 
 198 
 
 created 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 with indefatigable attention. 
 From his profession as a clergyman, and 
 his engagements as a scholar, his inter- 
 course with the world was not the most ex- 
 tensive. But he was particularly conver- 
 sant in history, botlr ancient and modern ; 
 and his memory was tenacious of the facts 
 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 practice, by which he proposed to 
 methodize his information upon every sub-
 
 199 
 
 ject, 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 fact 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 expected 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 facts 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
 
 history of man in his different stages of ci- 
 vilization. When they were executed with 
 ability, he considered them as valuable re- 
 positories ; and even from those in which 
 the execution was imperfect, 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 an- 
 xious in his private studies to discover 
 what, in a physical light, he actually was. 
 In this view he was happy in tracing the 
 progress of society, and in marking the 
 varied aspects of human nature in its dif- 
 ferent stages. 
 
 Not satisfied with viewing human na- 
 ture as it appeared in scenes that actually 
 took place, Dr Blair read a great deal of 
 fictitious history. He not only defended 
 this species of writing against the attacks ot 
 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 shewr
 
 201 
 
 ,, -himr i.i 
 
 ing the errors into which we are betrayed 
 
 by our passions, for rendering virtue ami- 
 able, and vice odious. The fictions 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 ge- 
 nerally adopted, Dr Blair used to quote the 
 authority of Lord Bacon. With the works 
 of that great philosopher, it may be obser- 
 ved, that he was particularly conversant, 
 and had borrowed from them rather in- 
 cautiously. 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 subject. The passage in 
 I)r Blair's Sermon begins thus : " The pomp 
 of death is more terrifying" than death it- 
 $elf. Honour has defied death ; love has
 
 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 fictitious 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 satisfaction. 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 fictitious. 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, consider- 
 ing the high authority that supports them, 
 they deserve to be respected. 
 
 From a conviction 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
 
 203 
 
 his reading he at the same time seemed 
 disposed to conceal. AVhen 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 in- 
 clination 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- 
 tracted the attention of Dr Blair. The au- 
 thors of these, as of all other compositions,
 
 might occasionally fail in their attempt; 
 but the attempt itself, if properly made, 
 was, in his judgment, entitled to respect. 
 If the representation of life and manners 
 was natural, it commanded his approba- 
 tion as a critic, and the moral had its due 
 * effect 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 actually 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 instruct. To so correct an obser- 
 ver of human nature, such extensive know- 
 ledge was of infinite use. It suggested 
 those delicate reflections respecting it, 
 which charm every reader, and which com- 
 manded the admiration even of those upon 
 whom he sometimes obtrudes disagreeable 
 truths.
 
 205 
 
 That timidity and diffidence in his own 
 abilities, which were unfortunate both for 
 Dr Blair and those around him, prevented 
 him from taking any active 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 strictest friendship. 
 Though his efforts were not so public, yet 
 they were not less strenuous than theirs* 
 for the introduction 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
 
 206 
 
 to whom it was given. Dr Blair's name 
 ^added dignity to the measure which he 
 was known 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 of- 
 ten tempered their warmth without ever 
 compromising 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 respected 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
 
 207 
 
 from respect 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 keenness, 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 conduct 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 Assembly, derived no 
 small advantage from the countenance of
 
 208 
 
 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, equalled the abili- 
 ty with which they were formed. Had he 
 assumed an authoritative tone, it would 
 have been duly respected. An amiable 
 modesty, however, made him appear not 
 to direct 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 active 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 
 
 o 
 
 been happy to grant it to a son, so much
 
 209 
 
 : .' 
 
 celebrated as a scholar, and so blameless 
 as a man. 
 
 In respect 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 which he bore a distin- 
 guished part, he witnessed the detail of 
 ecclesiastical 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 doctrine it was meant 
 to inculcate. The sentiment is happily 
 o
 
 210 
 
 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 80th 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
 
 the different candidates, they have num- 
 bered and weighed the testimonies in fa- 
 vour of each. Feeling their responsibility 
 to the public, 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, 
 too, they have shewn much wisdom. Ne- 
 glecting the opinion of those who were of- 
 ten most willing, though least able, to di- 
 rect 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 
 forgiving 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
 
 general report, he could often give his opi- 
 nion from the surer testimony of personal ac- 
 quaintance. In communicating his advice, 
 it appeared, that he was biassed by no re- 
 gard either to himself or to his party. Supe- 
 rior to every thing like political stratagem, 
 he bore an honest testimony, that was strict- 
 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- 
 racter 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
 
 politician often vainly attempts. While 
 they followed his counsels, they anticipa- 
 ted 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 reflect no dishonour on that re- 
 spectable 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 
 adopted ; 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 lite- 
 rary 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
 
 214 
 
 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 directed 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 conducting 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 character 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,
 
 his disease was gaining ground, he gave his 
 friend Dr Blair a proof both of the liber- 
 ality of his mind, and of the sincerity of his 
 attachment. He told him, that he was 
 aware of the 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 satisfaction, if he had reason to 
 anticipate 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 expected from him. He assured his 
 friend, that no prospect of private emolu- 
 ment could compensate that of being sepa- 
 rated from one he so sincerely esteemed ; 
 that he hoped Dr Robertson would still live
 
 216 
 
 to preside in the university, which he had so 
 long adorned ; and that he himself would 
 make no premature 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 rea- 
 sons for declining to follow his friend's ad- 
 vice, besides those which he reckoned it 
 proper to mention to him. His claim to 
 the preferment he knew was acknowledged 
 bv every body ; and he had trusted, that 
 the unanimous voice of the country would 
 supersede the necessity of any exertion 
 upon his part. Hand semper err at fa ma 
 aliquando et eligit. The patrons of the Uni- 
 versity perhaps understood, that if the of- 
 fice was an object 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 unconsci- 
 ous, left it to his patrons to bestow upon 
 him what was its due reward. A volun-
 
 217 
 
 tary offer of such a preferment, would, in 
 his opinion, have been the most honoura- 
 ble, 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 
 obtained, there is little reason to believe, 
 that he would have failed in his object. 
 His friends were both powerful and nume- 
 rous. Lord Melville's influence with the 
 rulers of the city, which he then represen- 
 ted in Parliament, would have given im- 
 mediate effect to the slightest request from 
 him. Of his Lordship's partiality, however, 
 the Doctor had no desire to avail himself. 
 Knowing and approving his Lordship's ge- 
 neral unwillingness to interfere in the elec- 
 tion of members of the University, and to 
 cramp the choice of the electors, in a mat- 
 ter in which its fame, is so deeply concern- 
 ed, he was the more disposed 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 Blair felt
 
 218 
 
 oversight as injurious to himself, and that 
 he was more affected by it than his friends 
 in general could have supposed. Flatter- 
 ed with the respect of the world, and un- 
 accustomed to disappointments during a 
 long life, that had been devoted to literary 
 pursuits, he could ill brook any neglect, 
 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 per- 
 haps expected attentions to personal me- 
 rit, 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 request, 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 acted 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- 
 ducted the affairs of the University, his 
 conduct 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 un- 
 assuming, 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 
 which few were ever blessed. While his 
 own reflections could suggest nothing that 
 was disagreeable, the world was presenting
 
 220 
 
 to him constant marks of its respect. Even 
 in old age, he shewed a gaiety ot disposi- 
 tion which seldom appears in others in the 
 early stages of life. While he made trilling 
 objects give place to important ones, from 
 the former he could at times 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 let- 
 ters, was the fruit of that patient indus^ 
 try, 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 Rev. James Bannatyne, one of the mi- 
 nisters of Edinburgh. From his connec-
 
 tion with her, which lasted forty-setfen 
 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 directed 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 afflicted 
 parents. She was eminently distinguished 
 for those accomplishments 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 
 
 o 
 
 rend the heart of a husband and a father, 
 Dr Blair displayed the power of that reli-
 
 gion of which he was the faithful minister. 
 W 7 hen the rod was laid upon him, he bent 
 under it, and felt the blow in all its severi- 
 ty. By no affected apathy did he chal- 
 lenge 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 Fin! ay son 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 instruction ; 
 tendering to the mourner the lessons of di- 
 vine consolation ; guiding the young by 
 his counsels ; aiding the meritorious by his 
 influence ; and supporting, by his voice 
 and by his conduct, the civil and ecclesi- 
 astical constitution 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 Jie nor his friends were alarmed. On 
 the afternoon of the 26th, this pain en- 
 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 trif-
 
 ling ; 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- 
 plied, its fatal effects 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 imflammation had com- 
 menced, which it was impossible to resist. 
 The bodily agony he underwent for some 
 hours before his death had no effect upon 
 his mind, which remained distinct and 
 calm. He met his fate with the compo- 
 sure of a Christian, who had nothing to 
 fear ; and expired on the morning of Sa- 
 turday the 2?th of December, in the 85d 
 year of his age, and the 59th of his mi- 
 nistry. 
 
 The death of n man who had long been 
 acknowledged, as one of his country's bright-
 
 esi 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 protracted, beyond the 
 period which it had reached. Yet his 
 friends could not fail to be deeply affected, 
 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 affe.cted 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 respect of the 
 living for the memory of the dead.
 
 226 
 
 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 ho- 
 noured 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 
 recollection, 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- 
 nity of acknowledging his high obligations
 
 to the steady and uninterrupted friendship, 
 which he thus enjoyed, during the great- 
 est part of his life. But on the number- 
 less proofs of affectionate regard, with 
 which he was honoured by his venerable 
 friend, he would be ashamed to dwell. 
 
 The imperfect account now brought to 
 a conclusion, is not intended as an eulo- 
 gium on the distinguished character, whom 
 it describes. The name of Dr Blair needs 
 no panegyrist. His literary honours are a 
 trophy which he has erected for himself, 
 and which time will not destroy. Posterity 
 will justly regard him as a benefactor of the 
 human race, and as no ordinary instru- 
 ment in the hand of God, for refining the 
 taste, improving the morality, and promo- 
 ting the religion of the Christian world. 
 
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