Blair, then Melville

‘As I was walking along Maitland-street on the evening

of the 20th of May, 1811, I met Sir Harry Moncreiff,

who asked me with great agitation, if I had heard what

had happened?  He then told me that President Blair

was dead. He had been in court that day, apparently

in good health, and had gone to take his usual walk

from his house in George Square round by Bruntsfield

Links and the Grange, where his solitary figure had

long been a known and respected object, when he was

struck with sudden illness, staggered home, and died.

It overwhelmed us all. Party made no division about

Blair. All pleasure and all business was suspended. I

saw Hermand that night. He despised Blair's absti-

nence from the pollution of small politics, and didn’t

know that he could love a man who neither cared for

claret nor for whist; but, at near seventy years of age,

he was crying like a child. Next day the court was

silent, and adjourned. The Faculty of Advocates, has-

tily called together, resolved to attend him to his grave.

Henry Erskine tried to say something, and because he

could only try it, it was as good a speech as he ever

made. The emotion, and the few and broken sentences,

made this artless tribute, by the greatest surviving mem-

ber of the profession to the greatest dead one, striking

and beautiful.

The day before the funeral, another unlooked-for oc-

currence deepened the solemnity. The first Lord Mel-

ville had retired to rest in his usual health, but was found

dead in bed next morning. These two early, attached,

and illustrious friends, were thus lying, suddenly dead,

with but a wall between them. Their houses, on the

northeast side of George Square, were next each other.

The remains of Blair were taken to the grave with all

the civic pomp that Edinburgh could supply. But the

most striking homage was paid in the solemn and im-

pressive silence and respectfulness of the people. There

were no soldiers, and scarcely a dozen of police officers.

Yet the procession moved to the Greyfriars churchyard

through a mass of orderly populace, all as still as if they

had been his family. When the sod was laid, his rela-

tions, as usual, took off their hats. So did the judges,

Who stood next: then the magistrates: the faculty and

their legal bodies; the clergy; and all the spectators in

the churchyard; beyond whom it ran over the sky lines

of people ridged on all the buildings, and on the south-

ern edge of the Castlehill — all stood for a moment silent

and uncovered. ‘

Lord Henry Cockburn’s discussion of Robert Blair’s death is found in “Memorials of his Time”.  Blair, the Lord  Avontoun, was Lord President of the Court of Session from 1808 to May 20^th, 1811, when he died.  Sir Walter Scott writes of the deaths of Blair and Lord Melville in a letter he sent to John Morritt on July 1^st, 1811.  This letter is published in Lockhart’s “Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott”:

‘Edinburgh, July 1, 1811

‘TO JOHN B. S. MORRITT

MY DEAR MORRITT-I have this moment got your

kind letter just as I was packing up Don Roderick for

you-a flying copy which be [sic] the assistance of an office

frank will reach you far sooner than Murrays heavy quarto.

This patriotic puppet show has been finishd under wretched

auspices-poor Lord Mellvilles death so quickly succeeding

that of president Blair, one of the best and wisest judges that

ever distributed justice broke my spirit sadly. My official

situation placed me in daily contact with the President

and his ability and candour were the source of my daily

admiration. As for poor dear Lord Mellville

'Tis vain to name him whom we mourn in vain.

Almost the last time I saw him he was talking of you in the

highest terms of regard and expressing great hopes of again

seeing you at Dunira this summer where I proposed to

attend you. Hei mihi! quid hei mihi! humana perpessi

sumus ! His loss will be long and severely felt here and

envy is already paying her cold tribute of applause to the

worth which she malignd while it walkd upon earth.

There was a very odd coincidence between the deaths

of these eminent characters, and that of a very inferior

person a dentist of this city named Dubuisson.1 He met the

Presidt. the day before his death, who used a particular

expression in speaking to him-the day before Lord

Mellville died he also met Dubuisson nearly on the same

spot and to the man's surprize used the Presidts. very

words in saluting him. On this second death, he

expressd (jocularly however) an apprehension that he

himself would be the third-was taken ill and died in an

hours space. Was not this remarkable ?

 I am quite delighted with your account of your journey 1

and would be most happy if I could promise myself

the pleasure of seeing you in Yorkshire this season.

But as the French Ambassador told the King wishing to

show that he understood the vernacular idiom and

familiar turn of the English language, " I have got some

fish to fry." You must know that my lease of Ashestiel

being expired I have bought a small farm value about

150 yearly with the intention of " bigging myself a

bower " after my own fashion. The situation is good as

it lies along the Tweed about three miles above Melrose

but alas ! the plantations are very young. However I

think if I can get an elegant plan for a cottage it will look

very well, and furnish me amusement for some time before

I get everything laid out to my mind. We stay at

Ashestiel this season, but migrate the next to our new

settlements. I have only fixd upon two points respecting

my intended cottage one is that it shall stand in my garden

or rather kail yard-the other that the little drawing

room shall open into a little conservatory in which

conservatory there shall be a fountain-these are

articles of taste which I have long determined upon.

But I hope before a stone of our paradise is begun we

shall meet and collogue about it. I believe I must be

obliged to my English friends for a few good acorns as

I intend to sow a bank instead of planting it and we do

not get them good here.

I will write to you again very soon being now busied

in bundling off my presentation copies of Don Roderic.

Charlotte joins in kindest respects to Mrs. Morritt our

little folk are all indebted to your kind remembrance, and

I am ever yours, W. S.’