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Although not, in the strictest sense of the
term, a refined and intellectual preacher, Dr Guthrie drew around him many
of the literati and rank of Edinburgh. Hugh Miller not only attended his
church, but officiated for years as one of his elders. Sir James Y. Simpson,
the professor of mid wifery in Edinburgh University, and one of the most
genial, accomplished, and characteristic Scotchmen that the nineteenth
century has produced, was also a member of his congregation, and superadded
to that the honour and value of his personal friendship. Lord Dalhousie,
when he visited Edinburgh, was regularly accustomed to "sit under" him; and
strangers, illustrious and obscure, came from far and near to listen to his
unique oratory. As a preacher, Dr Guthrie might be regarded as variable and
discursive.. Still, his sermons had always this one characteristic, that in
them he never lost sight of Christ and the gospel. To this extent, he
adopted the Horatian maxim, and
"Kept one consistent plan from end to end"
although his modes of carrying out that plan
were not always the same. His exuberant fancy sometimes carried him away
into regions where his hearers could hardly follow him. His figures were
alternately full of beauty or of terror, of gracefulness or of sublimity.
"Sometimes fair truth in fiction we disguise,
Sometimes present her naked to men's eyes."
It is a mistake to call him, as some have done,
an ad caplandam orator. His oratory wanted none of the polish that
distinguished Chalmers' wild whirlwind bursts, or Hall's grandly ascending
periods, but it had qualities entirely its own. All at once he emerged from
a practical commonplace exordium, and ascended to the highest flights of
eloquence with a rapidity and dazzling grandeur that was perfectly electric.
A moment more, and the preacher's voice resumed its ordinary tone. The
variety of his style concentrated attention on his discourse. No one could
go to sleep under him. One of his Boanerges-like bursts of passion was not
only an antidote against somnolency, but was sufficient to rouse the deepest
slumberer. More, perhaps, than any other preacher of his time, he had the
power or knack of fixing truths on the memory. He sent them home as if they
had been discharged from a battery, and fixed them there by a process
peculiar to himself.
Not a little of his popularity as a preacher has
been put down to his manner of delivery; but there was nothing so
exceptional in that as to give it any distinguishing features, if we except
a habit, that he often indulged, of making a liberal use of his pocket
handkerchief, not in the way nor for the purpose appropriate to that useful
article, but, as many thought, in the way of an oratorical trick. He was
accustomed to throw it out at full length, and then, catching it as one
might catch a cricket ball, he would repeat the operation with a little
touch of variety. Guthrie needed not such a meretricious aid as this to
assist the effect of his oratory. But whether it was an involuntary habit or
a deliberate trick, it was done with such perfect naturalness and apparent
lack of consciousness, that the action was entirely destitute of vulgarity.
Many of our greatest preachers have involuntarily acquired habits in the
pulpit equally, it not more singular. We need only refer to Dr Candlish's
invariable practice of violently thrusting his lingers through his hair, as
if he would tear a handful out by the roots, when in the midst of his
peroration, as a parallel instance of the force of habit.
If Dr Guthrie was great in the pulpit, he was
not less so on the platform. In his speeches, it has been said, "There is
always a flourish of far-resounding laughter, and then a mailed truth steps
down upon the stage." No matter what the cause on whose behalf his
sympathies were enlisted, he felt it a matter of duty to assist it to the
utmost of his power. Besides this, he could more easily indulge in the
platform his keen perception of humour, and his quiet satire on the
prevailing fashions of the day. But he could also burn with indignation, and
utter words that scorched and scathed by their very truthfulness. He was
fearless as a lion, while gentle as a lamb. He never hesitated to call a
spade by its proper name. He was slow to wink at follies or vices, however
fashionable or frivolous, and yet he allowed the utmost liberty of thought,
speech, and action, where there was no sacrifice of morality or religious
principle.
To sum up the qualities which were developed in
the course of his long and distinguished career, it may be said that Dr
Guthrie was neither a reasoner nor a scholar, but was simply a powerful
public orator, both in the pulpit and on the platform. In both places his
style was picturesque, as was his personal appearance. He had an immense
command of natural imagery, a large fund of humour, and could produce great
effects by an apparently simple pathos. He did great service to whatever
cause he espoused.
In society he showed remarkable conversational
powers. A genuine Scotchman in feeling and sentiment, he had a great fund of
anecdote, chiefly of a national character, and few could tell a quaint
Scotch story with better effect. His catholicity of spirit led him to
associate with persons of all sects, and he enjoyed tlie friendship of not a
few eminent men of the day. As indicating that he was not unknown in the
highest quarters, it may be mentioned that on the occasion of the marriage
of the Princess Louise he was honoured with an invitation to the wedding
ceremony, and was presented to the Queen by her Majesty's express desire.
But it was round the social board and in the
domestic circle that the humour, geniality, and strong manly sense of
Guthrie were most strikingly displayed. He had a fault common to all great
speakers, although in him it became a virtue, that, namely, of practically
absorbing, while he only seemed to assist and suggest conversation. He was
accustomed to indulge in monologue—another characteristic of men abundantly
gifted with a ready utterance. But no matter what the circumstances or the
subject might be, Guthrie was always edifying and interesting. If sometimes
a little didactic, he never became "stale, flat, or unprofitable;" and his
friends paid as much deference to his opinions as did the Literary Club to
the ipse dixit of old Dr Johnson. Nor was he unmindful of the claims of
others. He had the power of silence as well as of speech. We have referred
to his intimacy with Hugh Miller, and one reminiscence of this intimacy may
be given here.
It needs not be premised that being what they
were, and standing to each other as they did, in the relation of minister
and elder, the friendship of the two men was of the closest and warmest
kind. Dr M'Cosh has described how he was invited to Dr Guthrie's house for
the purpose of meeting Miller at dinner. The two "Doctors" had been walking
together on this particular day, and at some distance from the house of
rendezvous they saw Miller approaching the door. They ran to overtake him,
Dr Guthrie remarking, "If he goes to my house and finds me not in, he will
set off," At dinner there were several others present, and Dr M'Cosh tells
how "Dr Guthrie restrained his usual flow of mingled manly sense, humour,
and pathos, to allow his friend Miller to speak freely."
In personal appearance, Dr Guthrie was tall and
robust-looking, though rather loosely built. His style of dress was
careless, And in his attitudes, whether in walking or in speaking, there was
perhaps more of spontaneous freedom, than of grace. |
