In 1862, Dr. Caird was appointed Professor of Divinity in the University of Glasgow. Since that time his pulpit ministrations have been comparatively few. In fact, although his eloquence is in some respects as powerful and unique as ever, his voice has lost much of the charm of former days, and this is perhaps one of the most weighty reasons that actuated the reverend gentleman in seeking the otium cum dignitate of a Professor's chair. As a teacher no less than as a preacher Dr. Caird has made his mark. In reference to both functions we find personified in him the attributes of
"Echenus sage, a venerable man,
Whose well-taught mind the present age surpassed,
And joined to that the experience of the last.
Fit words attended on his weighty sense,
And mild persuasion flowed like eloquence."
If there is one thing more than another that has brought Dr. Caird a special name and reputation as a thinker, it is the broad and somewhat latitudinarian notions which he holds on religions matters. So far does he carry his toleration and charity that he has, we believe, given serious offence to not a few of his most attached admirers in questions other than religious. Briefly stated, Dr. Caird's belief is that all the theological distinctions that ever distracted Christendom are not worth a single breach of charity. In a sermon which he preached before the Senate, at the opening of the new University Chapel, on the 8th of January last, he set himself to show that the mere holding of the Catholic faith, in the sense and form of the creed, cannot be the essence of religion—first, because the great mass of mankind are incapable of doing justice to the definitions and evidences of the creeds; yet need religion, and are, in point of fact, pious in spite of their want of theological accomplishments; secondly, there is an organ or faculty of the soul deeper than the intellect, by which (apart from accurate doctrinal notions) the force of religious realities may be apprehended and appropriated; and, thirdly, men of the most divergent and even opposite dogmatic convictions may be, and are, religiously one. Accordingly, he maintains that the essence of religion must lie in 'something profounder than ecclesiastical and dogmatic considerations. And could we get at that something—call it spiritual life, godliness, holiness, self-abnegation, surrender of the soul to God; or, better still, love and loyalty to Christ as the one Redeemer and Lord of the spirit—could we pierce deeper than the notions of the understanding to that strange, sweet, all-subduing temper and habit of spirit, that climate and atmosphere of heaven in a human breast, should we not find that there lies the essence of religion?' Religion, in short, is a matter of feeling rather than of knowledge, a hallowed condition of the spiritual sentiments and instincts, rather than an orthodox complexion and arrangement of the spiritual ideas; a thing of the heart rather than of the head. On this view, it has been argued, though Dr. Caird does not expressly draw the inference, orthodoxy is not essential to "salvation," and heathenism is not a barrier to the blessings of heaven.
One distinguishing characteristic of all Dr. Caird's sermons—and, indeed, of everything to which he applies himself—is that they are carefully and conscientiously manipulated. He does not commit himself to a mere superficial treatment of the subject in hand, but, like John Bright—to whom in more than one respect he presents a striking parallel—he takes the utmost pains to provide thoroughly acceptable and nourishing pabulum for his hearers, believing that whatever is worth doing, is worth doing well. No man alive has furnished a more fitting illustration of the lines—
"The heights by great men reached and kept,
Were not attained by sudden flight;
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upwards in the night."
Every sentence which Dr. Caird utters in his discourses is turned and polished with the consummate art of which he is such a master until it is a sparkling gem. Hence his diction bears the most crucial test; like his oratory, his composition is unique.
When the British Association held its meetings in Edinburgh in August, 1871, Dr. John Caird was selected to preach the sermon which it is customary to deliver before the savants at any town at which they may happen to meet. On this sermon a pungent critic in a well-known metropolitan magazine, who rejoices in the nom de plume of Patricius Walker, Esq., has the following remarks:—"Mr. Caird (who spoke somewhat huskily, but with much emphasis) was on the broad Liberal tack. He quoted passages from Herbert, Spencer, Comte, and other modern philosophers; not showing them up as monsters or deluded—O dear no!—or taking refuge behind his Bible or any 'cardinal doctrine' of faith, but professing a profound respect for these writers, and bringing his facts and logic against their facts and logic. It was a clever exercise and a very curious discourse to hear in the High Kirk of Edinburgh, but it was hard to suppose it could do anybody much good.
Says Caird, 'I'll quote and then refute,
Each modern philosophic doot'—
And so he did; but each quotation
Seem'd to outweigh the refutation.
Some of the old-fashioned worshippers must have felt uncomfortable, like the villager who, after a clever sermon on the Evidences of the Existence of the Deity, said he never thought of doubting it before."
Professor Caird is one of her Majesty's chaplains for Scotland.