The Poetical Works of Beattie, Blair and Falconer | Page 4

a wide view over forest and lawn, village and
stream, mountain, meadow, and all the glories which replenish the long,
fair valley of Strathmore. Here the poets met, and spent two delightful
days. Beattie was amazed at the taste, the judgment, and the extensive
learning of Gray; and Gray, an older and a more fastidious man, was
nevertheless delighted with Beattie's enthusiasm, bonhommie, and
heart.
In 1767, he married Mary, the daughter of Dr Dunn, rector of the
Grammar School, Aberdeen. She was an amiable and lovely woman.
Dr Johnson, when he saw her in London, along with her husband,
seemed to think more highly of her than of him. He was not aware,
however, of a fact which became afterwards distressingly
apparent--that from her mother she inherited a tendency to insanity,
which broke out in capricious waywardness, some time before it
culminated in madness. We know not but this may explain Dr
Johnson's saying to Boswell--"Beattie," he said, "when he came first to
London, 'sunk upon' us that he was married," 'i.e.', tried to hide that he
was married. Perhaps the reason of this remark, which so much
offended Beattie himself, was, that, afraid of her capricious flightiness
being misunderstood, he was at first reluctant to bring her into society.
His letter to the contrary was we fear, written for a purpose, and in
order to 'conceal' the truth.
And now came what Beattie and some of his friends--although not we,
nor the literary world now generally--considered the grand epoch of his
life--the publication of his "Essay on Truth." He had for some time
been alarmed at the progress of the sceptical philosophy, both at home
and abroad, and had expressed that alarm to his friends in his


correspondence. At last this fear awoke in him a Quixotic courage, and
he sallied forth like the valiant Don, in search of all whom he knew or
imagined to be the enemies of Truth--and like him made some
considerable mistakes, and showed more zeal than discretion. We may
quote here some sensible sentences from one of his biographers.--"That
his meaning was excellent, no one can doubt; whether he discovered
the right remedy for the harm which he was desirous of removing, is
much more questionable. To magnify any branch of human knowledge
beyond its just importance, may indeed tend to weaken the force of
religious faith; but many acute metaphysicians have been good
Christians, and before the question thus agitated can be set at rest, we
must suppose a proficiency in those inquiries which he would proscribe
as dangerous. After all, we can discover no more reason why sciolists
in metaphysics should bring that study into discredit, than that religion
itself should be disparaged through the extravagance of fanaticism. To
have met the subject fully, he ought to have shown, that not only those
opinions he controverts are erroneous, but that all the systems of former
metaphysicians were so likewise." In truth, Beattie would have gained
his purpose far better had he been able to have written another such
satire against Hume and his followers, as Swift's "Battle of the Books,"
Butler's "Elephant in the Moon," or Voltaire's "Micromegas." Had he
had sufficient wit and sufficient knowledge, the inconsistencies,
absurdities, and endless quarrels of metaphysicians might have
furnished an admirable field! But wit was hardly one of his qualities,
and his knowledge of these subjects was superficial. In fact, the gentle
"minstrel" warring against philosophy, reminds us of a plain English
scholar attacking the Talmud, or of one who had never crossed the
'Pons Asinorum' slandering the Fluxions of Newton.
The essay appeared in 1770, and became instantly popular, passed
through five large editions in four years, and was translated into foreign
tongues. Hume smiled at it in his sleeve, but attempted no answer.
Burke, Johnson, and Warburton, who must have seen through its
sounding shallowness, pardoned and praised it for its good intentions,
and because its author, though a champion rather showy than strong,
was on the right side. Flushed by its success, Beattie, in 1771, revisited
London, and obtained admission to the best literary circles--sate under

the "peacock-hangings" of Mrs Montague--visited Hagley Park, and
became intimate with Lord Lyttelton--chatted cheerily with Boswell
and Garrick--listened with wonder to the deep bow-wows of Johnson's
talk--and as he watched the rich alluvial, yet romantic mountain stream
of thought, knowledge, and imagery that flowed perpetually from the
inspired lips of Burke, perhaps forgot Gray and Glammis Castle, and
felt "a greater is here." These men, in their turn, seem all to have liked
Beattie, although the full 'quid pro quo' of praise came only from Lord
Lyttelton, who vowed that in him Thomson had come back from the
shades, much purified and refined by his Elysian sojourn! Beattie, we
fear, was a little spoiled by