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that other business puts it out of his power to continue it,

SCOTTISH REVIEW.

L Sermons, by James Finlayson, D.D. F.R.S.E. One of the Ministers of the High Church, and Professor of Logic and Metaphysics in the University of Edinburgh. 8vo. 10s.

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That he might not be left altogether without a provision, he accepted the living of Borthwick, near Edinburgh. Matters, however, were so arranged, as that he should teach the class the succeeding winter. This howsidered, from the short time left for ever, in his opinion," might be conpreparation, as matter of condolence rather than of congratulation." The labour imposed upon him was indeed

severe.

His lectures opened only a

mation; and in the course of the winfortnight after his receiving the intiter he was ordained minister of Borthwick, and had to begin his instructions there. This severe pressure is supposed to have considerably affected his health, which was naturally sound.In a letter to the same friend, written following account of his views and ocon the 12th May 1788, he gives the cupations.

T the period of the lamented death of Dr Finlayson, we took occasion to give a short sketch of the leading events of his life. At the commencement of the present volume, we find a more detailed narrative by one of his most intimate and respectable friends; but the current of his life was so little diversified, that little addition is made to the information of which we were formerly in possession. He was born at Nether Cambushenie, in the parish of Dumblane, and about the age of ten was sent to the school of that place. It is remarkable, that be there discovered an uncommon liveliness of disposition, and was the leader of every boyish amusement.— At the age of fourteen, he began his studies at the university of Glasgow," and was for some time amanuensis to Professor Anderson. He then went into the family of Sir William Murray of Ochtertyre, a worthy and intelligent gentleman, who soon discovered his merit, and zealously patronized it. He received an offer of the living of Dunkeld, which he was induced to decline, by the prospect which began to open, of his being placed in the logical chair. An appointment so congenial to his character, he seems to have looked forward to with an eagerness, of which his disposition was rarely susceptible. Considerable doubts of his success having arisen, he expressed himself as follows, in a letter to a friend.

ease after a month of very hard la"I am now enjoying the luxury of "bour. In consequence of taking a se"parate hour for examining my stu "dents, I found use for between twenty "and thirty additional lectures. These, "from an unpardonable degree of indo"lence, I had neglected to prepare, "until the spur of necessity touched 66 me. The greater part of them be"longed to the last branch of my 66 course, which is The means of com"municating truth,' and were on the "origin and progress of language, on "the principles of universal grammar, "&c. I have projected about six more

66

on style, and on the best method of "arranging and conducting a discourse, "for the purpose of producing convic"tion. These will complete my plan, "and leave me at leisure to turn my "attention to the improvement of those

$6 hasty

"hasty sketches, which I have hitherto "made. This summer I devote to the "History of Philosophy. If indolence "and sermon-making permit me, I 66 mean to write that branch of the 66 course anew, and to throw into it a << greater degree of order, and of know"ledge, than I was formerly able to "do." Pref. p. xxii.

He was soon after confirmed in the possession of the chair; and the remainder of his life was spent in the public eye, but varied by few incidents, all of which, so far as we can observe, were formerly noticed by us. The account however which is given of his behaviour on his death-bed, may probably interest our readers.

In January 1808 his unfavourable symptoms rapidly multiplied, and some of them were attended with excruciating pain; but on the 25th, while conversing with his colleague, a paralytic stroke deprived him of sensation on that side where his sufferings had been most acute, and so far contributed to "smooth the bed of death." In this

helpless state, the respectful tenderness of his friends was strongly manifested, by the number who contended for the honour of watching over him. On the 27th his articulation, which had hitherto been unintelligible, became some. what better, and the first expression which could be understood was this solemn one; "I am about to pass to a

"better habitation, where all who believe in Jesus shall enter." He soon after requested to join in some acts of devotion suited to a death bed. In the course of the day, he gave distinct directions about his affairs, and named the books which he wished to be presented to his friends, with a minute attention to their taste, and with such exact instructions where to find the absent volumes, as shewed the most perfect calmness and self - possession. Warmth of friendship, for which he was always distinguished, was the last feeling that forsook him; and the agitation, occasioned by an impulse of affection, snapt the slender thread by which soul

and body were still held together. On the 28th, about the hour when his friends generally made their final enquiry for the day, a number of them were assem

bled in his library; and one who was about to retire, signifying a desire to see him, was introduced and named. The Doctor grasped his hand, and expressed the satisfaction which he felt in such an attendance at such a moment: and, being about to swallow some cordial, added, "I drink your health, my dear Sir, "and may your life be long!" At this, emotions, precipitately withdrew; and his friend, being unable to suppress his the patient appeared to change so suddenly, that all in the adjoining room were called in, and formed a silent circle round his bed, while he gently and almost imperceptibly expired. So insensibly indeed did the spirit disengage ther, that a deep unbreathing pause of itself, as he leant on the bosom of a broseveral minutes ensued, while every eye was fixed on the pale countenance, with an expectation of seeing it re-animated, It was a spectacle of solemn and impressive sublimity: a picture so forcibly stamped on the minds of the behold ers, by its associated circumstances, and especially by the awful stillness of sor"row," in which it was contemplated, as never to be obscured by the longest train of subsequent events, which the last survivor of the group may witness. Pref. p. xxxii.

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This volume will be the more valuable in the eyes of the public, as it is likely, we suspect, to be the only monument of its author's powers that will appear through the medium of mode by which posterity can judge of the press, and consequently the only those powers which were so highly esteemed by his contemporaries. His lectures have not been announced; indeed we have heard, that they were scarcely left in a state fit for publication; and it seems to be intimated in the preface, that he never wrote any thing for the express purpose of laying it before the world.

The following passage appears to us the best suited to give an idea of the clear and forcible statement of argument, which formed the reigning character of Dr Finlayson's stile, and, at the same time, of the rich and somewhat elaborate ornament, which is spread over it.

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It cannot fail to strike us as a remarkable fact, that an opinion in favour of immortality has universally prevailed. This opinion is to be found not only amid the improvements of philosophy, and the refinements of polished life: it pervades every rank of society, and seems to accompany the human race through all the conditions of their being. Follow man even to his rudest state to the forest or the cave. You may find him without any civil polity, uninstructed in sciences and arts, unacquainted with the conveniences of life, attentive only to the cravings of his sensitive nature; and wandering about in quest of subsistence, raised but a single step above the animals which minister to his wants. Yet even this man, unenlightened as he is, looks forward to berer days, and is encouraged to support the ills of life by hopes similar to those which animate the breast of a Christian.

The circumstances, indeed, with which the different races of men have associated their notion of the world to come, appear with great diversity a diversity which arises unavoidably from the manner in which their conceptions of it are formed. Their ideas of that untried state must, from the very mature of things, be derived from the erjoyments of their present condition, and must, consequently, be modified by the nature of the happiness which they have experienced on earth. But their differences respecting the description of the future world affect neither the reality nor the strength of their belief in its existence. The general idea of an Lereafter is the same in them all, and prevails universally.

From whence can this universal agreement of opinion have proceeded? From some cause, certainly, which is common to all mankind, and which is uniform and universal in its operation. It must either be a natural result from the ordinary principles of their frame; or the effect of an original revelation meeting within them principles congenial to itself, and which, therefore, amid the loss of so many other traditions, has continued to accompany them through all their dispersions. For the united consent of mankind, on any subject in which they have an immediate interest, is the voice of their nature—a voice which proceeds

from the wise Author of their frame, intimating to his children the happiness which they are formed to relish, and the perfection which they are destined to attain.

The general and continued prevalance of this opinion, therefore, even supposing it to have originated in tradition, must be traced ultimately to the natural sentiments of the human heart. Man, in the exercise of his natural powers, feels that he is born for immortality. He carries with him, wherever he turns, a strong desire to survive the present life, and an involuntary presage of a future existence. His mind seems conscious to herself that this mortal state is a depression below her native dignity. His affections dwell often with friends who have left it-he experiences an incompleteness in all its enjoyments-he feels wants which it cannot satisfyand, under the impulse of a spring that operates for ever in his soul, he bends his eye towards another region, where he shall meet again the friends of his heart; where the inconveniences of his present condition shall be removed; where his powers shall no more suffer fatigue; and where objects more worthy of his pursuit shall be placed before him.

In the confused notions then which take their rise from this mixture of feelings, we may find the elements of that hope which, in every age, has led men to anticipate the enjoyments of a future world. And the expectation which this natural impulse produces is not inconsistent with the most enlightened suggestions of reason. Various considerations may be mentioned which tend to give it a rational support. With this view let me observe,

When we turn our eye to the human frame we discover irresistible proofs that it consists of two substances, a body and a soul-substances which have separate functions and qualities, and which are, in some respects, totally independent of each other. The body is a compound of material particles, and is therefore naturally liable to decomposition. It is known to be in perpetual flux, and, in the course of a short life, changes repeatedly every particle of its substance. The soul on the contrary could not perform its functions of thinking, comparing, and reasoning, unless it were a sim

ple

ple substance; and if it be a simple substance, it cannot perish by dissolution, nor by any mode of destruction of which nature has given us an example. We know, at least, that the mere shifting of its bodily covering does not affect it; for we have the most satisfactory evidence, even the evidence of Consciousness, that it continues permanent through the successive changes that befal the body in the course of this life, and that in fact it survives repeatedly the complete waste of our material frame. Why then should we suppose that the sudden bodily change which we call death exerts over it a power, of which no former bodily change indicated any trace? The soul, simple as it is, may no doubt be annihilated by an act of the divine will; but of such acts of annihilation we have no experience; we have no reason to believe that they were ever exerted; and therefore we

can have no title to conclude that they will accompany the stroke of death.

Nay, when we contemplate the course of things attentively, we may find, from analogy, some ground to conclude that the great change of death, so far from being the destruction of the soul, is a necessary step in its progress to a more perfect existence. The death of orga. nized beings seems to be the general principle of their renovation. All nature dies to live again. And every living thing advances from one stage of perfection to a higher by changes not unlike the death of man. The desolations of winter prepare in secret the renovescence of spring, and the glories of harvest. The plant does not send forth its leaves till the seed has suffered corruption in the ground; the butterfly does not unfold its wing to the Sun until the worm from which it springs has experienced a change similar to the pang of dissolution; nor does the Eagle

mount to the skies till he has left in ruins the shell which covered and confined him. Even man himself confirms this analogy, and exhibits in the history of his past condition some striking examples of the same general law. The hour of his birth, in particular, produ

ced on his means of subsistence and life a change no less total than that which will be produced by the hour of his death. Yet that change, instead of extinguishing the feeble spirit within him,

served only to emancipate its powers,
to encrease their number, and to place
them in circumstances more favourable
for their improvement.
P. 401.

II. Observations on the Structure of Hospitals for the treatment of Lunatics, and on the General Principles by which the cure of Insanity may be most successfully conducted. To which is annexed, An Account of the intended Establishment of a Lunatic Asylum at Edinburgh.Illustrated by 5 Engravings. 4to.

E have already taken repeated

WE

establishment to the notice of our opportunities of introducing this readers. In our number for Novemthe public, issued when the project was ber 1807, we inserted an Address to first set on foot. In January 1808, we communicated a statement of the Plan, which had then been matured, and for the promotion of which, the sum of two thousand pounds had been obtained from the forfeited estates.The undertaking was carried forward so rapidly by the zeal of those engaged in it, that in March following, we were enabled to present our readers with the engraved plans of the building intended to be erected for this useful purpose. These different documents are here reprinted, along with others equally important, and of greater extent, forming a complete view of the system to be adopted.

The first document with which we Architect, on the manner in which are presented is the report of Mr Reid, the building may be best constructed, so as to answer its ends. He conceives, that a very extensive plan should be timately be completed. At the same laid down, such as it is hoped will ultime, however, in consideration, we presume, of the usual slow progress of such works in Scotland, a country more noted for the conception than for the execution of great plans, he proposes,

that

that this whole shall be divided into a number of parts, each capable of subsisting as an independent building.He proposes that different buildings should be allotted to patients, according to their rank in life, and the sum paid by their relations, and that different parts of the same building should be allotted to patients in the different states of the disease, as furious, tractable, incurable, or convalescent. The following remarks on this last subject may probably interest our readers.

la each building accommodated for the reception of forty patients, it is in dispensably necessary that a distinct day or public room should be provided for each sex. These public rooms should be of considerable dimensions, not only that the patients may dine there with comfort, but that they may have room to amuse themselves in bad weather.

Among forty patients in one building, it may be estimated that there will be about four of these in a state of convalescence. A day-room ought, therefore, to be provided for these, separate from parations of the patients may, at times, be made, the galleries, or passages lead. ingtoth sleeping rooms, should be wide, bat at the same time so constructed, that they may be shut in by doors at the ends. By this structure, part of the patients may occasionally be allowed to walk about in these galleries, who could not with propriety be admitted into the public day-room.

the others. And that more minute se

Among forty patients, that is, twenty males, and as many females, lodged in the same building, it may be computed that twelve or thirteen of each sex will be in a state capable of being admitted into their respective public roou.s. Two or three of each sex may be presumed to be in a convalescent state, and to be admitted into the convalescent dayroom, to dine there along with the keep er. It may be computed, that two or three of the number will be in such a state as obliges the keeper to confine them to their sleeping rooms, or, at the utmost, to allow them only at times to walk about the particular gallery in which their rooms are situated. And it may be fairly calculated, that among forty patients, two or three of each sex Jan. 1810.

will be in such an outrageous state as to render it necessary to have recourse to the strictest coercion, by means of a strait waistcoat, and confinement alin this situation should be on the groundtogether solitary. The cells for patients floor, surrounded with thick wails, and arched over, to prevent, as much as possible, the noise they may occasion from disturbing the other patients in the sleeping-rooms above. These cells for the most solitary confinement should be thought necessary, either they, or any near a bath, into which, when it is

of the other patients, may be occasionally plunged, to wash and to cool them.

Behind the building there should be open courts, or airing grounds, of a considerable size, in which the patients may walk about; and in these there should be a covered walk, for their exercise in bad weather; and there should be benches, on which they may occasionally rest.

P. 4

Mr Reid makes several important observations on the management of fires, the ventilation of the house, and the position of the windows. He then lays down, as follows, the leading circumstances which are to be attended to in such a structure, and gives an enumeration of the different buildings which are to be included in his plan.

In the erection of a Lunatic Hospital, the matters principally to be attended to appear to be the following: That the buildings and inclosures should be so constructed as to make the escape of patients as difficult as possible, but, at the same time, so constructed as to render the patients of each class as comfortable as their situation will admit of. 2. That a thorough and complete ventilat:on should be kept up throughout the apartments, at the same time, guarding, by every possible precaution, against accidental fire. 3. Where cleanliness is so essential, that the drains, sewers, and privies, should be constructed on the most approved plans; and that as great a supply of fresh water, as can be abtained, should be admitted into the buildings and court yards. 4. That the cooking-places, cellars, and other con veniences, should be so situated as that the labour of the servants of the esta

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