on the prosperity, morals, and happiness of states; views which could hardly fail to impress a veneration for liberty on his heart, and which, through his exertions, might essentially promote the welfare of his country.
When Mr. Millar was appointed Professor of Law, the University of Glasgow enjoyed that very high reputation for philosophical inquiry, which, by the continued exertions of its professors, it still maintains. Dr. Hutchison laid the foundation of this fame, by his very amiable and ingenious system of Morals, and, under his successors, Dr. Smith and Dr. Reid, the character which the Moral Philosophy Class then acquired has been both established and extended. The originality of the speculations of these Philosophers has given a de-<lviii>cided bias, at Glasgow, to moral and metaphysical research; a bias in some degree unfavourable to the study of the ancient languages, and even to the important sciences of Physics and Mathematics. Yet, in these departments, also, the University can boast of professors of no common reputation. Dr. Moor and Mr. Muirhead, joined to an intimate acquaintance with the stores of ancient literature, much critical knowledge and acuteness: Dr. Wilson distinguished himself by several astronomical discoveries of considerable moment: The writings of Dr. Simson are known and admired by every mathematician in Europe; and Dr. Cullen and Dr. Black, did more than perhaps any other English philosophers, in extending and improving the sciences of medicine and chemistry.*
In a university, where so many learned men had excited a general spirit of inquiry, and where so many original investigations were going forward, it was a natural wish, that there should be some established mode of mutual communication by which new ideas might be elicited, and error, ever prone<lix> to insinuate itself among new discoveries, might speedily be detected. Such were the views with which THE LITERARY SOCIETY, consisting chiefly of Professors, together with some Clergymen of the city and neighbourhood, had been instituted in 1752.17
On Mr. Millar’s coming to Glasgow, he found this society in a very flourishing state, and, from a conviction of the advantages attending such an institution, both to its particular members, and to the general interests of science, he immediately became a very active and zealous promoter of its views. Till his death, he continued to attend the meetings with a punctuality of which I believe there are few examples. So far as I can learn, he never once failed, in the course of forty years, to read a discourse in his turn; and it was very seldom indeed that he allowed any other engagement to interfere with his attendance. The society became a kind of weekly habit to him; and he seemed to feel considerable disappointment and uneasiness, when any circumstance prevented its regular meeting.
The members of the Literary Society are accustomed to read papers on those subjects of science or taste, with which they are most conversant; each professor usually making choice of some to-<lx>pic connected with the particular business of his class, or taking the opinion of his colleagues on such speculations as he may be preparing for the press. The reading of the essay is followed by a conversation, sometimes by a debate, on the opinions that have been maintained; strictures are made on the arrangement, illustrations, or language; new ideas are occasionally started by the speakers; various improvements are suggested; and not unfrequently the whole foundations of the system are unreservedly attacked. The author is thus made sensible of any obscurity that may have pervaded his statements, or of any sophistry that may have insinuated itself into his arguments; he is led to revise his positions, to re-examine his authorities, and sometimes to perceive new views and new combinations, productive of the most important discoveries. To the other members, much useful knowledge is conveyed, on subjects often remote from their ordinary studies; and, by the diffusion of a general curiosity respecting all branches of science, that narrow exclusive attention to one particular study, which is so apt to proceed from the division of intellectual labour, is, in some measure, corrected.
Mr. Millar usually took a leading part in these discussions. Few subjects could be proposed on<lxi> which he had not, in some degree, reflected; and, though occasionally the essays entered so minutely into abstract science, that a person possessed only of general knowledge could not deliver a profound opinion; yet, even in such cases, his natural acuteness, and scientific habits, frequently enabled him to detect any inaccuracy in the arrangement, or inconsistent opinions in different parts of the discourse. His favourite subjects, however, those which he always canvassed with new interest and delight, were the sciences connected with the study of the human mind. A zealous admirer of Mr. Hume’s philosophical opinions, which he had early adopted, and of the truth of which, after inquiries increased his conviction,* he was necessarily engaged in frequent debate with Dr. Reid. Each, firmly persuaded that he maintained the cause of truth, used every exertion to support his own opinions and overthrow those of his opponent. No<lxii> weapon was rejected. To the utmost subtility of argument, to the most acute detection of sophistry, were sometimes joined the powers of ridicule; and occasionally, when arguments, conceived to be refuted in former debates, were again, on either side, introduced, some impatience might appear, some expressions might be used which seemed to convey the idea of contempt. But such feelings never, for a moment, survived the debate; and it is honourable to both, that frequent, and even acrimonious disputation never weakened their sentiments of friendship, nor impaired that mutual esteem which their worth, their talents, and their unwearied ardour in the investigation of truth, were calculated to inspire.
On several evenings, each winter, in place of a regular essay being read, a member of the society is appointed to open a debate on a given subject; and, on such evenings, the speeches assume more of the character of public harangues. Mr. Millar’s elocution when he became a member of the Literary Society, has been described to me as, in some degree, embarrassed, cold, and constrained. To him, who was resolved to deliver extemporary Lectures, nothing could be more important than to conquer such defects; nor could there be any more certain means of accomplishing this object,<lxiii> than were furnished by the meetings of the society. A flow of ideas and expression, can be acquired only by practice, and by that self-possession and confidence which spring from repeated attempts, and repeated success. In the Society, too, Mr. Millar had frequent opportunities of comparing very different styles of oratory, and, in particular, of listening to the elegant and pleasing eloquence of his friend Dr. Wight, who, by the liveliness of his manner, and brilliancy of his imagination, often foiled the superior information and strength of argument by which he was assailed.* By seizing every opportunity of improvement, Mr. Millar soon overcame any disadvantages under which he at first might labour, and placed himself, as a speaker, decidedly at the head of the Society. Feeling a lively interest in most of the questions proposed, he never failed to communicate something of this interest to his hearers; following the most natural order of ideas, he took a firm and steady hold of his subject; possessed of extensive knowledge, and a very lively imagination, he drew illustrations from a vast variety of topics; fond of wit, and not averse to ridicule, he enlivened the discussion with<lxiv> fanciful allusions, with delicate irony, and pointed satire; and, sometimes, rising with his subject, his eye on fire, his action strong and energetic, his tones impressive, his language bold and figurative, he astonished by the force of his declamation, and reached the highest pitch of impassioned eloquence.
After the business of the society was concluded, such of the members, as happened to have no other engagements, frequently adjourned, for a few hours, to a tavern in the neighbourhood. Here the discussion was sometimes continued, but with more sudden transitions, greater play of imagination, and all those sallies and deviations which are the charm of unrestrained conversation. In this part of the evening’s amusement, Mr. Millar was as conspicuous, as in the previous discussions. His convivial talents, his unfailing vivacity and good humour, called out the powers of many, who would otherwise have remained silent and reserved; the liveliness of his fancy suggested infinite topics of conversation or of mirth; and his rich stores of information enabled him to supply endless sources of knowledge and amusement.
In most men, distinguished powers of conversation are merely an agreeable talent, the source of pleasure to their friends, and of affection to-<lxv>wards themselves; but, in Mr. Millar’s particular situation, they were of higher importance; enabling him, with the most distinguished success, to discharge the duties of an instructor of youth. It has long been the custom at Glasgow,
