THE END—1796
In the last winter of his life Reid read an interesting discourse on
‘Muscular Motion,’ in the Literary Society, of which he so long had
been a member. After describing articulately the progressive changes
in the human muscles which mark the advance of age, and proposing an
explanation, he thus concludes his last public discourse:—
‘May I be permitted to mention that it was my own experience
of some of these effects of old age on the muscular motions
that led my thoughts to this explanation, which, as it is
owing to the infirmities of age, will, I hope, be treated
with the greater indulgence. It is both pleasant and useful
to contemplate with gratitude the wisdom and goodness of the
Author of our being, in fitting this machine of our body to the
various employments and enjoyments of life. The structure is
admirable as far as we are permitted to see it in this infancy
of our being. And the internal structure which is behind the
veil that limits our understanding, and which gives motion to
the whole, is, in a manner most wonderful, though unknown to
us, made subservient to our volition and efforts. This grand
work of nature, like the fruits of the earth, has its maturity,
its decay, and its dissolution. Like those also, in all its
decay it nourishes a principle within which is to be the seed
of a future existence. Were the fruit conscious of this, it
would drop into the earth with pleasure, in the hope of a happy
Resurrection. This hope, by the mercy of God, is given to all
good men. It is the consolation of old age, and more than
sufficient to make its infirmities sit light.’
The dissolution of the material organism which for eighty-six years
had served the writer of these words was now near. Of his few early
philosophical associates, Campbell and Beattie only were alive at the
beginning of 1796, and in April of that year Campbell died. Reid followed
him six months later. Dugald Stewart, then Professor of Moral Philosophy
in Edinburgh, gives the following account of the months before the end:—
‘In the summer of 1796, about two years after the death of
his wife, he was prevailed on by Dr. Gregory to pass a few
weeks at Edinburgh. He was accompanied by Mrs. Carmichael,
who lived with him in Dr. Gregory’s house, a situation which
united under the same roof every advantage of medical care, of
tender attachment, and of philosophical intercourse. As Dr.
Gregory’s professional engagements necessarily interfered with
his attentions to his guests, I enjoyed more of Dr. Reid’s
society than might otherwise have fallen to my share. I had
the pleasure, accordingly, of spending some hours with him
daily, and of attending him in his walking excursions, which
frequently extended to the distance of three or four miles.
His faculties (excepting his memory, which was considerably
impaired) appeared as vigorous as ever; and, although his
deafness prevented him from taking any share in general
conversation, he was still able to enjoy the company of a
friend. Mr. Playfair and myself were both witnesses of the
acuteness which he displayed on one occasion, in detecting a
mistake, by no means obvious, in a manuscript of his kinsman,
David Gregory, on the subject of “Prime and Ultimate Ratios.”
In apparent soundness and activity of body, he resembled more
a man of sixty than of eighty-seven. He returned to Glasgow
in his usual health and spirits; and continued for some weeks
to devote as formerly a regular portion of his time to the
exercise both of body and mind. It appears from a letter of
Dr. Cleghorn’s to Dr. Gregory, that he was still able to work
with his own hands in his garden; and he was found by Dr.
Brown occupied in the solution of an algebraical problem of
considerable difficulty, in which, after the labour of a day or
two, he at last succeeded.’
It was thus in summer. In September he was attacked by a violent
disorder, and after a severe struggle, attended with repeated strokes of
palsy, he passed away on the 7th of October. Thus ended the tranquil life
of deep and patient thought, which opened at Strachan and almost spanned
the eighteenth century, morally and intellectually the representative of
Scottish philosophical restoration under the conditions of the time. His
ashes were laid in the College Church burial-ground, within the shadow of
the College of which he had so long been the chief ornament, and under a
tombstone bearing this inscription:—
‘Memoriæ sacrum THOMÆ REID, S.T.D., quondam in Schola Regia
Aberdonensi Philosophiæ Professoris; nuper vero in Universitate
Glasguensi, ab anno 1764 usque ad annum 1796, Philosophiæ
Moralis Professoris; qui in Scientia Mentis Humanæ, ut olim in
Philosophia Naturali illustris ille Baconius Verulamius, omnia
instauravit; qui ingenii acumine doctrinæque omnigenæ, summam
morum gravitatem, simul atque comitatem, adjuvavit; qui obiit
7° October, 1796, annos natus 86. Cujusque ossa cum cineribus
ELIZEBETHÆ REID, conjugis carissimæ, triumque filiarum morte
prematura abrepturam, sepulchro condita sunt. Hoc Monumentum
poni jussit filia piissima, unica superstes, Martha Carmichael.’
After the University of Glasgow had in 1872 exchanged the College in the
High Street, with its touching memories, for its new and stately home on
the bank of the Kelvin, Reid’s remains were carried to the Necropolis
which overlooks his old home in the Drygate, and the tombstone was
removed to the College on Gilmore Hill.
I find Reid’s will, dated 7th May 1792, recorded in the Sheriff-Court
Books of Lanarkshire. Dr. and Mrs. Carmichael are executors, with Mr.
Leslie and Mr. Rose conjoined. Furniture, books, and papers are left to
Mrs. Carmichael, except a few books for the University Library. Of the
rest of the property, personal and real—after payment of debts, including
£300 to Dr. Carmichael, ‘payable in full of my daughter’s tocher,’ and
‘£300 to John Sargent, London, cousin-german of the dearest Elizabeth
Reid, my wife’—one half is assigned to Mrs. Carmichael, and the other
half, in equal portions, to ‘my sisters, Mrs. Leslie and Mrs. Rose,’
burdened with ‘a liferent annuity of £10, to my stepmother, Janet Fraser,
widow of Mr. Lewis Reid.’ The real property is described as consisting of
‘eleven and a half falls of ground, with the whole houses thereon, and
the well therein, bounded on the west by William Street, on the north by
the property of Dr. Carmichael, on the south by the property of Joseph
Crombie, and on the east by the property of John Duguid and Wm. Risk, all
in the Barony parish.’ This property appears to have been bought about
1780, the year in which Reid ceased to teach in the College.
* * * * *
That this life, much withdrawn from the public eye in the interest of
philosophic reflection, was not unappreciated when it ended, is shown by
the recognition which immediately followed. On the day after he died the
event was thus announced in the _Glasgow Courier_:—
‘Thomas Reid, D.D., Professor of Moral Philosophy in the
University of Glasgow, died on the seventh day of October. His
ingenious and elaborate works, especially his _Inquiry into the
Human Mind_, and his _Essays on the Intellectual and the Active
Powers of Man_, are noble and lasting monuments of his eminent
abilities, his deep penetration, and his extensive learning.
By unravelling sceptical perplexities, overturning ill-founded
hypotheses, and resting every conclusion on evident principles,
he has brought about a memorable revolution in the Philosophy
of Human Nature. His character through life was distinguished
by an ardent love of truth, and an assiduous pursuit of it in
various sciences; by the most amiable simplicity of manners,
gentleness of temper, strength of affection, candour, and
liberality of sentiments, which displayed themselves in the
habitual exercise of all the social virtues; and by steadiness,
fortitude, and rational piety.’
A few days later a more elaborate study of his character appeared in the
_Courier_:—
‘Dr. Reid was unquestionably one of the profoundest
philosophers of the age; and although some who think it a
proof of weakness to differ from Mr. Hume have slighted the
speculations of Dr. Reid, and undervalued the precision which
he laboured to introduce, his Inquiry into the Senses will
probably be coeval with our language. It is founded on facts
which must continue to interest men while their constitution
continues unchanged. In his pursuit of new knowledge he studied
the late improvements in chemistry; he observed the great
political events which have happened, and contemplated that
with which the time seems pregnant with the keen interest of
one entering on life. He venerated religion—not the noisy,
contentious systems which lead men to hate and persecute each
other, but the sublime principle which regulates the conduct,
by controuling the selfish and animating the benevolent
affections. When vilified by intemperate philosophers [_e.g._
Priestley], he made no reply, being satisfied with having
stated what he thought the truth; and when outraged by zealots
who falsely call themselves Christians, he bore the outrage
meekly, using no terms of complaint or reproach. He was to
the last moment free from that morose querulous temper which
has been deemed inseparable from age. Instead of repining
at the prosperity and enjoyments of the young, he delighted
in promoting them; and after having lost all his own family
except one daughter, he continued to treat children with such
condescension and benignity that some very young ones noticed
the peculiar kindness of his eye. His end accorded with the
wisdom and goodness of his life. He used sometimes to say,
“I am ashamed of having lived so long after having ceased to
be useful,” though at that very time he was acquiring and
communicating useful knowledge. During his last illness, which
was severe, he complained of nothing but the trouble that he
gave his affectionate family, and he looked to the grave as a
place not of rest merely but of triumph.’
The affectionate judgment of his contemporaries, in the first days of
sorrow, instead of exceeding, fall short of the deliberate judgment
of leaders of European thought in a later generation. The rise of his
reputation was slow. As there are too many who make themselves appear
more wise than they are, it was the more uncommon fault of Reid to
appear less a philosopher than he really was. Extreme caution made him
suspicious of ingenious conjecture in matter-of-fact inquiry, and perhaps
blinded him to the large part which imagination as well as reason has
to play in progress. ‘It is genius, and not the want of it,’ he says,
‘that adulterates philosophy, and fills it with error and false theory’;
and in the spirit of this warning, as well as by temperament, he was
intellectually conservative more than progressive or adventurous.
In outward appearance he was somewhat under the middle size, with a
bodily constitution of uncommon strength and tenacity, maintained by a
methodically regulated life and habitual serenity of temper. Raeburn’s
picture, now in Fyvie Castle, for which he sat during his last visit to
Edinburgh, expresses the deep and persistent thought, as well as the
reposeful and benevolent temper, which gave unity to his long life.
Copies of this picture are preserved at Birkwood, in the College of
Glasgow, and in the National Portrait Gallery at Edinburgh, as well as in
the great window of the Mitchell Hall of Marischal College. There is also
an excellent medallion by Tassie, done six years before Reid’s death.
After the death of Mrs. Carmichael, in February 1805, all who were
descended of the Rev. Lewis Reid of Strachan, by his wife Margaret
Gregory, had passed away. His second wife and widow died at Aberdeen
in 1798, like her stepson, in her eighty-seventh year, having survived
him about eighteen months. The great-granddaughter of Mrs. Leslie his
half-sister, Grace Anna Leslie, now of Birkwood, married Dr. Ross
Paterson in 1864. Their youngest daughter has charge of the Reid family
papers, to which I owe many facts first published in these pages. A son
of his other half-sister, Mrs. Rose, a medical officer in the Indian
army, was introduced in 1805 to Sir James Mackintosh, then Recorder of
Bombay, by Professor Ogilvie of Aberdeen, as a relative of the advocate
of the final philosophical appeal to the Common Sense; and Mackintosh
in a letter to Mr. Ogilvie expresses the deep interest with which he
saw ‘the nephew of Dr. Reid, whose philosophy, like you, I do not
embrace, but whose character and talents every cultivator of science must
venerate.’ Sir James’s later judgments of the philosophy, after a more
attentive study of its scope, were more favourable.