Carmichael, a daughter worthy in every respect of such a father: long the chief comfort and support of his old age, and his anxious nurse in his last moments.*

In point of bodily constitution, few men have been more indebted to nature than Dr. Reid. His form was vigorous and athletic; and his muscular force, though he was somewhat under the middle size, uncommonly great; advantages to which his habits of temperance and exercise, and the unclouded serenity of his temper, did ample justice. His countenance was strongly expressive of deep and collected thought; but when brightened up by the face of a friend, what chiefly caught the attention was, a look of good will and of kindness. A picture of him, for which he consented, at the particular request of Dr. Gregory, to sit to Mr. Raeburn, during his last visit to Edinburgh, is generally and justly ranked among the happiest performances of that excellent artist. The medallion of Tassie, also, for which he sat in the eighty-first year of his age, presents a very perfect resemblance.

I have little to add to what the foregoing pages contain with respect to his character. Its most prominent features were, intrepid and inflexible rectitude; a pure and devoted attachment to truth; and an entire command, acquired by the unwearied exertions of a long life, over all his passions. Hence, in those parts of his writings where his subject forces him to dispute the conclusions of others, a scrupulous rejection of every expression calculated to irritate those whom he was anxious to convince; and a spirit of liberality and good humor toward his opponents, from which no asperity on their part could provoke him for a moment to deviate. The progress of useful knowledge, more especially in what relates to human nature and to human life, he believed to be retarded rather than advanced by the intemperance of controversy; and to be secured most effectually when intrusted to the slow but irresistible influence of sober reasoning. That the argumentative talents of the disputants might be improved by such altercations, he was willing to allow; but, considered

*Note (F.)

in their connexion with the great objects which all classes of writers profess equally to have in view, he was convinced "that they have done more harm to the practice, than they have done service to the theory of morality." *

In private life, no man ever maintained, more eminently or more uniformly, the dignity of philosophy; combining with the most amiable modesty and gentleness, the noblest spirit of independence. The only preferments which he ever enjoyed, he owed to the unsolicited favor of the two learned bodies who successively adopted him into their number; and the respectable rank which he supported in society, was the well earned reward of his own academical labors. The studies in which he delighted, were little calculated to draw on him the patronage of the great; and he was unskilled in the art of courting advancement, by "fashioning his doctrines to the varying hour."

As a philosopher, his genius was more peculiarly characterized by a sound, cautious, distinguishing judgment; by a singular patience and perseverance of thought; and by habits of the most fixed and concentrated attention to his own mental operations; endowments which, although not the most splendid in the estimation of the multitude, would seem entitled, from the history of science, to rank among the rarest gifts of the mind.

With these habits and powers, he united, what does not always accompany them, the curiosity of a naturalist, and the eye of an observer; and accordingly, his information about every thing relating to physical science, and to the useful arts, was extensive and accurate. His memory for historical details was not so remarkable; and he used sometimes to regret the imperfect degree in which he possessed this faculty. I am inclined, however to think, that in doing so, he underrated his natural advantages; estimating the strength of memory, as men commonly do, rather by the recollection of particular facts, than by the possession of those

*Preface to Pope's Essay on Man.

general conclusions, from a subserviency to which, such facts derive their principal value.

Toward the close of life, indeed, his memory was much less vigorous than the other powers of his intellect; in none of which, could I ever perceive any symptom of decline. His ardor for knowledge, too, remained unextinguished to the last; and, when cherished by the society of the young and inquisitive, seemed even to increase with his years. What is still more remarkable, he retained in extreme old age all the sympathetic tenderness, and all the moral sensibility of youth; the liveliness of his emotions, wherever the happiness of others was concerned, forming an affecting contrast to his own unconquerable firmness under the severest trials.

Nor was the sensibility which he retained, the selfish and sterile offspring of taste and indolence. It was alive and active, wherever he could command the means of relieving the distresses or of adding to the comforts of others; and was often felt in its effects, where he was unseen and unknown. Among the various proofs of this, which have happened to fall under my own knowledge, I cannot help mentioning particularly, upon the most unquestionable authority, the secrecy with which he conveyed his occasional benefactions to his former parishioners at New Machar, long after his establishment at Glasgow. One donation, in particular, during the scarcity of 1782, a donation which, notwithstanding all his precautions, was distinctly traced to his beneficence, might perhaps have been thought disproportionate to his limited income, had not his own simple and moderate habits multiplied the resources of his humanity.

His opinions on the most important subjects are to be found in his works; and that spirit of piety which animated every part of his conduct, forms the best comment on their practical tendency. In the state in which he found the philosophical world, he believed, that his talents could not be so usefully employed, as in combating the schemes of those who aimed at the complete subversion of religion, both natural and revealed; convinc

ed with Dr. Clarke, that, "as Christianity presupposes the truth of natural religion, whatever tends to discredit the latter, must have a proportionally greater effect in weakening the authority of the former." * In his views of both he seems to have coincided nearly with Bishop Butler; an author whom he held in the highest estimation. A very careful abstract of the treatise entitled Analogy, drawn up by Dr. Reid, many years ago, for his own use, still exists among his manuscripts; and the short Dissertation on Virtue which Butler has annexed to that work, together with the Discourses on Human Nature published in his volume of Sermons, he used always to recommend as the most satisfactory account. that has yet appeared of the fundamental principles of morals: nor could he conceal his regret, that the profound philosophy which these discourses contain, should of late have been so generally supplanted in England, by the speculations of some other moralists, who, while they profess to idolize the memory of Locke, "approve little or nothing in his writings, but his errors." +

Deeply impressed, however, as he was with his own principles, he possessed the most perfect liberality toward all whom he believed to be honestly and conscientiously devoted to the search of truth. With one very distinguished character, the late lord Kaimes, he lived in the most cordial and affectionate friendship, notwithstanding the avowed opposition of their sentiments on some moral questions, to which he attached the greatest importance. Both of them, however, were the friends of virtue and of mankind; and both were able to temper the warmth of free discussion, with the forbearance and good humor founded on reciprocal esteem. No two men, certainly, ever exhibited a more striking contrast in their conversation, or in their constitutional tempers the one, slow and cautious in his decisions, even on those topics which he had most diligently studied; reserved and silent in promiscuous society; and

* Collection of Papers which passed between Leibnitz and Clarke. See Dr. Clarke's Dedication,

† I have adopted here the words which Dr. Clarke applied to some of Mr. Locke's earlier followers. They are still more applicable to many writers of the present times. See Clarke's first Reply to Leibnitz.

retaining, after all his literary eminence, the same simple and unassuming manners which he brought from his country residence: the other, lively, rapid, and communicative; accustomed, by his professional pursuits, to wield with address the weapons of controversy, and not averse to a trial of his powers on questions the most foreign to his ordinary habits of inquiry. But these characteristical differences, while to their common friends they lent an additional charm to the distinguishing merits of each, served only to enliven their social intercourse, and to cement their mutual attachment.

I recollect few, if any anecdotes, of Dr. Reid, which appear to me calculated to throw additional light on his character; and I suspect strongly, that many of those which are to be met with in biographical publications, are more likely to mislead, than to inform. A trifling incident, it is true, may sometimes paint a peculiar feature better than the most elaborate description; but a selection of incidents really characteristical, presupposes, in the observer, a rare capacity to discriminate and to generalize; and where this capacity is wanting, a biographer, with the most scrupulous attention to the veracity of his details, may yet convey a very false conception of the individual he would describe. As, in the present instance, my subject afforded no materials for such a choice, I have attempted, to the best of my abilities, instead of retailing detached fragments of conversations, or recording insulated and unmeaning occurrences, to communicate to others the general impressions which Dr. Reid's character has left on my mind. In this attempt, I am far from being confident I have succeeded; but, how barren soever I may have thus rendered my pages in the estimation of those who consider biography merely in the light of an amusing tale, I have, at least, the satisfaction to think, that my picture, though faint in the coloring, does not present a distorted resemblance of the original.

The confidential correspondence of an individual with his friends, affords to the student of human nature, materials of far greater authenticity and importance; more particularly, the correspondence of a man like Dr. Reid,