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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 FRANK J. KLINGBERG 
 
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 SFIJ 
 
 
 Tn THE PRESIDENT AM' COUNCIL 
 
 THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH, 
 
 THIS WORK IS RKSI'Kt'TKULI.Y I) I'. ! > I < A T 1. I) 
 
 i:i:m .mh-i <>!ii:i>ii:.\ r in misu: >vm\ a \ r 
 
 .1. I!. IU'RT()\,
 
 ADVERTISED RNT. 
 
 In this work, an attempt has been made to connect 
 together a series of original documents, by a narrative 
 of events in the life of him to whom they relate ; an 
 account of his literary labours ; and a picture of his 
 character, according to the representations of it pre- 
 served by his contemporaries. The scantiness of the 
 resources at the command of previous biographers, 
 and the extent and variety of the new materials now 
 presented to the world, render unnecessary any other 
 apology fur the present publication. How far these 
 mate ials have been rightly used, readers and critics 
 must judge ; but I may be perhaps excused for offering 
 a brief explanation of the spirit in which I desired 
 to undertake the task ; and the responsibility I felt 
 attached to the duty, of ushering before the public, 
 documents of so much importance to literature. 
 
 The critic or biographer, who writes from materials 
 already before the public, may be excused if he give 
 way to his prepossessions and partialities, and limit 
 his task to the representation of all that justifies and 
 supports them. If he have any misgivings, that, in 
 following the direction of his prepossessions, he may 
 not have taken the straight line of truth, he may be 
 assured, that if the cause be one of -any interest, an
 
 viii ADVERTISEMENT, 
 
 advocate, having the same resources at his command, 
 will speedily appear on the other side. But when 
 original manuscripts are for the first time to be used, 
 it is due to truth, and to the desire of mankind 
 to satisfy themselves about the real characters of great 
 men, that they should be so presented as to afford the 
 means of impartially estimating those to whom they 
 relate. We possess many brilliant Eulogiums of the 
 leaders of our race many vivid pictures of their 
 virtues and their vices their greatness or their 
 weakness. But if a humbler, it is perhaps a no less 
 useful task, to represent these men their character, 
 their conduct, and the circumstances of their life, pre- 
 cisely as they were ; rejecting nothing that truly 
 exemplifies them, because it is beneath the dignity 
 of biography, or at variance with received notions 
 of their character and the tendency of their 
 public conduct. The desire to have a closer view 
 of the fountain head whence the outward manifes- 
 tations of a great intellect have sprung, is but one 
 of the many examples of man's spirit of inquiry from 
 effects to their causes ; and the desire will not be 
 gratified by reproducing the object of inquiry in all 
 the pomp and state of his public intercourse with 
 the -world, and keeping the veil still closed upon his 
 inner nature. It is difficult to write with mere 
 descriptive impartiality, and without exhibiting any 
 bias of opinion, on matters which are, at the same 
 time, the most deeply interesting to mankind, and 
 the objects of their strongest partialities. Though 
 the task that was before me was simply to describe,
 
 ADVERTISEMENT, ix 
 
 and never to controvert, I do not profess to have 
 avoided all indications of opinion in the departments 
 of the work which have the character of original 
 authorship. I have the satisfaction, however, of 
 reflecting, that the documents, which are the real 
 elements of value in this work, are impartially pre- 
 sented to the reader, and that nothing is omitted 
 which seemed to bear distinctly on the character and 
 conduct of David Hume. 
 
 I now offer a few words in explanation of the 
 nature of these original documents. The late Baron 
 Hume Lad collected together his uncle's papers, con- 
 sisting of the letters addressed to him, the few drafts 
 or copies he had left of letters written by himself, the 
 letters addressed tnj him to his immediate relations, 
 and apparently all the papers in his handwriting, which 
 had been left in the possession of the members of his 
 family. To these the Haron seems to have been enabled 
 to add the originals of many of the letters addressed 
 by him to his intimate friends, Adam Smith. I Hair, 
 Mure, and others. The design with which this inter- 
 esting collection was made, appears to have been that 
 of preparing a work of a similar description to the 
 present ; and it is a misfortune to literature that this 
 design was nut accomplished. On the death of Haron 
 Hume, it was found that he had left this mass of 
 papers at the uncontrolled disposal of the Council of the 
 Ivoyal Society of Edinburgh. This learned body, alter 
 having fully considered the course proper to be adopted 
 in these circumstances, determined that they would 
 permit the papers to be made use of by any person
 
 x ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 desirous to apply them to a legitimate literary purpose, 
 who might enjoy their confidence. Having for some 
 time indulged in a project of writing a life of Hume, 
 postponed from time to time, on account of the imper- 
 fect character of the materials at my disposal, I applied 
 to the Council of the Royal Society for access to the 
 Hume papers ; and after having considered my appli- 
 cation with that deliberation which their duty to the 
 public as custodiers of these documents seemed to 
 require, they acceded to my request. The ordinary 
 form of returning thanks for the privilege of using 
 papers in the possession of private parties, appears 
 not to be applicable to this occasion ; and 1 look on 
 the concession of the Council as conferring on me an 
 honour, which is felt to be all the greater, that it was 
 bestowed in the conscientious discharge of a public 
 duty. 
 
 The Hume papers, besides a manuscript of the 
 " Dialogues on Natural Religion," and of a portion of 
 the History, fill seven quarto volumes of various thick- 
 ness, and two thin folios. In having so large a mass 
 of private and confidential correspondence committed 
 to their charge, the Council naturally felt that they 
 would In neglecting their duty, if they did not keep in 
 view the possibility that there might be in the collec- 
 tion, allusions to the domestic conduct or private 
 affairs of persons whoso relations are still living; and 
 that good taste, and a kind consideration for private 
 feelings should prevent the accidental publication of 
 such passages. On inspection, less of this description of 
 matter was found than so large a mass of private
 
 \IVI-:UTISK.MKNT. \i 
 
 documents mi^lit he supposed to contain. Then' 
 is no passage which I have felt any inclination to 
 print, as being likely to afford interest to the 
 reader, ct* which the use lias been denied me ; 
 and I can therefore say that I have had in an 
 respects full and unlimited access to this valuable 
 collection. Before leaving this matter. 1 take the 
 opportunity of returning my thanks for the kind and 
 polite attention I have received from those gentle- 
 men of the Council, on whom the arrangements for my 
 getting access to these papers, imposed no little labour 
 and sacrifice of valuable time. 
 
 A rumour has obtained currency regarding the con- 
 tents of these papers, which seems to demand notice 
 on the present occasion. 
 
 It is stated in '/'//< <J,mrl> rh/ Rrrinr. x that -those 
 who have examined the Hume papers which we know 
 only by report speak highly of their interest, but 
 add, that they furnish painful disclosures concerning 
 the opinions then prevailing amongst the clergy of 
 the northern metropolis: distinguished ministers of 
 the gospel encouraging the scoifs of their familiar 
 friend, the author of ' the Kssay upon Miracles;' 
 and echoing' the blasphemies of their associate, the 
 author of the Kssay upon Suicide!" I have the 
 
 pleasing task of removing the painful feelings which, 
 as tins writer justly observes, must attend the belief 
 in such a rumour, hv saving that I could not find it 
 
 V.. I. Will
 
 xii ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 justified by a single sentence in the letters of the 
 Scottish clergy contained in these papers, or in any 
 other documents that have passed under my eye. I 
 make this statement as an act of simple justice to the 
 memory of men to whose character, being a member 
 of a diiferent church, I have no partisan attachment : 
 and I may add that, in the whole course of my pretty 
 extensive researches in connexion with Hume and 
 his friends, I found no reason for believing that letters 
 containing evidence of any sucli frightful duplicity 
 ever existed. 
 
 Among these papers, a variety of letters, chiefly 
 from eminent foreigners, though interesting in them- 
 selves, were entitled to no place in the body of this 
 work, as illustrative of the life and character of Hume. 
 These 1 had intended to print in an appendix, believing 
 that, though not directly connected with my own 
 project, the lovers of literature would not readily 
 excuse me for neglecting the opportunity afforded 
 by my access to these papers, for adding to the 
 stock of the letters of celebrated men. But 
 the work, according to its original scope and design, 
 continuing to increase under my hands, T found that 
 if it contained the documents specially referred to in 
 the text, its bulk would be sufficiently extended, 
 and I have determined to let the other papers here 
 alluded to follow in a separate volume, which will 
 contain letters to Hume from IVAlembert, Turgot, 
 Diderot, Helvetius, Franklin, Walpole, and other dis- 
 tinguished persons. 
 
 The reader will find that many original documents
 
 AI'Vrk'i IsKMKNT 
 
 printed in this collection have been obtain- '1 from 
 other sources than the Hume papers. Ms acknow- 
 ledgments are particularly due to the Marl of Minto, 
 fur the liberality with which he allowed me the 
 uncontrolled use of the lame and valuable collection of 
 correspondence between Hume and Sir Gilbert Klliot. 
 Kor the letters in the Kilravock collection I am indebted 
 tu Cosmo Innes. Hsu,., sheritf of Morayshire: and I 
 tained access to those addressed to Colonel Kd- 
 mondstoune. through the polite intervention of 'iconic 
 [>undas. Esq.. sheriff of Selkirkshire. 1 am obliged 
 the kindness of Lord Murray fur much assistance 
 in obtaining materials and information for this work : 
 and to Robert Chambers. Esq.. who has been accus- 
 tomed from time to time, to preserve such letters and 
 other documents i-cted with Scottish biography, 
 
 as came under his notice. I have to otter my thai - 
 f-ir the whe-h- of his collections reirai . _ Hume. 
 _' nerously transferred to me. 
 In the use ,,i" printed buuks. where *.:. Advue ! - 
 rary. tu which I have pi itV*.s.-ion;il ace . has 
 failed me. I have found the facilities for consulti _ 
 L-t and w._dl arranged collection of the Writers 
 * _ t of Lfi'eat sen ice. 
 1 owe acknowledgments to many friends tor use- 
 e i :' the work. To <>u> -] - 
 
 .:':! havinj hiiiL r oceu] ' lad:-::: _.> ; d 
 is country. ' - : - I r lends 
 
 - -.rial : rcise :' ' ! ail 
 
 <e aliti' - * i: have . ii_ r h:< i the woi id. I a :.] 
 
 . ; tch ciitical cuuii-el as no oth
 
 xiv ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 and few would have had the considerate kindness to 
 bestow, were they able. 
 
 Of the two portraits engraved for this work, that 
 which will, probably, most strikingly attract attention, 
 is taken from a bust, of coarse and unartistic work- 
 manship, but bearing all the marks of a genuine 
 likeness. It was moulded by a country artist, at the 
 desire of Hume's esteemed friend, Professor Ferguson; 
 and I am under obligations to his son, Sir Adam, for 
 the privilege of using it on this occasion, and to Sir 
 George Mackenzie, for having kindly mentioned its 
 existence, and exerted himself in its recovery, after 
 it had been long lost sight of. The medallion, from 
 which the other portrait is taken, is in the possession 
 of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq., by whom I 
 was presented with the engraved plate, from which 
 the fac simile of a letter, addressed by Hume to his 
 collateral ancestor, is printed. 
 
 Edinburgh, February, 1846. 
 
 %* It may bo right to explain, that the two sizes of 
 t v j -, used in this work, were first adopted with the design of 
 presenting all letters addressed to Hume, all extracts, and 
 all letters from him with which the public is already fami- 
 lial - , in the smaller typo, in order that the' reader coining to 
 a document with which he is already acquainted, might see 
 at once where it ends. This arrangement was accidentally 
 hrokon through, several letters having been printed in the 
 larger that should have appeared in the smaller type.
 
 CONTEXTS OF Vol. I M K F III ST 
 
 ILLl'STRATIoNS TO \oL. I. 
 
 Portrait of Hume from ;i Moihillioii, 
 Fac simile of a, letter by Hum.', 
 
 rr.;,, lf} .,: 
 I'airc 171! 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 171 I I Tot. .Ex. 'Hi. 
 
 Birth Parentage His own account of hi- Ance-tor- Local a ocia- 
 tions of Ninewells..- Lducation Studies Marly Corre-pondeuce The 
 Ram-ay- Speciim-u of hi- early Writings- K-.-ay on ('hha!~_\ Why 
 he de-erted tie 1 Law - Lain ;cmi..t : n to f.. .:. 1 a School of Philosophy 
 L( tter to a l'hy-ici i:i dr-erihiuic hi- - 1 1 1 1 1 ( - and habits i ritici.-in 
 on the Letter Mii'i'o.-ition that it wa- addre.-sed to Dr. I heyne - 
 Jluiue iroe- to llii-tol. 
 
 ciiai'Tkk ii. 
 i ;:; i 1 ;:;:). .Ex. -m 27. 
 
 Jluiue leave- 1 iri - 1 1 for I'rai, Paris Miracle- at the Tomb of I lie 
 Ahi.e 1'ari- Rheiuis La loche- Association with the AI.Ik- 1'liiche 
 and I)e- Cartes- Observation., on French Such ;y and Manner- 
 Story of La Koche Return to liritain I'oirc-poudenec with Henry 
 lloine Poijiioaiion of :! , fir t and <rond \oluiuc >)( the Treatise of 
 ^ If, man Nature- Character of that Work - It- influence on Mental 
 I'hiloophy 
 
 CIIAI'TKK III. 
 I7;>:) 1711. -Ei. i!7-_:. 
 
 Letter- I" In iriends a iter the |>u>>i n-:it i ! the tir-t and -ecotid v nl n uif 
 
 of the Tn ui-i' lieturn- to >cotland Reception of In Hook t'rn 
 fi -in in "fli.' Work- of the Learned" Charge a^ain-t 1 1 mm' of
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 assaulting the publisher CoiTesponder.ee with Francis Hutcheson 
 Seeks a situation Connexion with Adam Smith Publication of the 
 third volume of the Treatise Account of it Hume's notes of his 
 reading Extracts from his Note-books. . . Page 105 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1741 1745. JEi. 30 34. 
 
 
 
 ^Publication of the Essays, Moral and Political Their Character Cor- 
 respondence with Home and Hutcheson Hume's Remarks on 
 Huteheson's System Education and Accomplishments of the Scot- 
 tish Gentry Hume's Intercourse with Mure of Caldwell and 
 Oswald of Dunnikier Opinions on a Sermon by Dr. Leechman 
 Attempts to succeed Dr. Pringle in the Chair of Moral Philosophy 
 in Edinburgh. ....... 3 ''.> 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 174') 1747. JEr. 3436. 
 
 Hume's Residence with the Marquis of Annandale His Predecessor 
 Colonel Forrester- Correspondence with Sir James Johnstone and 
 Mr. Sharp of Hoddam Quarrel with Captain Vincent Estimate of 
 his Conduct, and Inquiry into the Circumstances in which he was 
 placed Appointed Secretary to General St. Clair Accompanies the 
 expedition against the Court of France as Judge-Advocate Gives an 
 Account of the Attack on Port L'Orient A tragic Incident. . 170 
 
 CHAPTER VJ. 
 
 I 7 Hi 1 748. Avv. .'!*> 37. 
 
 Hume returns to Ninewells His domestic Position His attempts in 
 Poetry- -Inquiry as to bis Sentimentalism Takes an interest in Poli- 
 ties Appointed Secretary to General St. Clair on his mission to Turin 
 lli-t journal of his Tour Arrival in Holland- Rotterdam The 
 Hague Hreda The War French Soldiers Nimeguen Cologne 
 
 - Ilonn The Rhine and its scenery Coblentz Wiesbaden Frank- 
 furt Rattle of D.'ttingcn Wur/.burg Ratisbon Descent of the 
 Danube- OliM-rvations on Germany Vienna The Emperor and 
 Empress Queen Styria Carinthia The Tyrol Mantua Cremona. 
 
 Turin.
 
 ("nNTKNTS. 
 
 rii \l'Ti:i; VII. 
 I7is 17-11. .Ivr. :J7 U). 
 
 ^ I' .Mication nf tin 1 " Inquiry eoneernine/ Hainan I'nilor^taniling " - N:i- 
 
 ~ tun* of that Work I >. > t r n . . . t Nee it y Observations on Minn les 
 
 New K.lition of tin- " K ay-, .Mora! an. I Political" lleeeption of the 
 new l'nlilications- Iv.f.irn Home- Hi- Mother's Death II. >r Talents 
 athl l haraeter ( riv poii'lence with Dr. Clephane- P.arth'|uake- 
 Corre-pouileticf with Montesquieu 1'ractical jokes in connexioii with 
 the We-tmin-ter Klection John Home- The Pollman's Petition, ['age 
 
 ciia p ri:i< viii. 
 
 17-11 I 7-1-'. .Ivr. 10 II. 
 
 SirCilhert Klliot Hume's intimacy with him Their Philosophical 
 
 ('orre-j)..ii'iei,re - Dialogue-' o'.i Natural Religion Resilience in 
 Ivlinburgh -1 nk'> 1 .ami I'ul lieation of the '" I ti<[ n i ry concerning 
 the Prinoipl. of Moral-"- The I'tilitarian Theory- Attempt : 
 
 obtain the ( hair of Moral Phih'-op!:} infii.i gow Competition >\ ith 
 Imrke I'ul. lieation of the ' Political 1 >i -course- " - The foundation 
 of 1 '..; it :- '.1 Pen. ,,... l' n n h Ti m-h ti. ..-. 
 
 ('MATT MIi* IX 
 
 . i.i 
 
 i I 
 
 Appointment a- >:..;,, of the Advocated Library Hi- Dutie- Com- 
 mence-, the li: ''. of PnL'lam! Corro<pondenee with A. lam Smith 
 ami other- on the lli-tory - (ietnro-ity to Hlaeklock the Poet 
 (Quarrel with tic ! 'acilty of Advocates - Puhlieation of the Pir-t 
 Volume of the ll'Mory- It- reception Continue- the II: ton 
 1 uitrov. r-i.-il ami polemical attack- - Attempt to subject him, 
 
 with K ii. . to the Di-cipli f Kcclc-ia-tieal Court- The leader of 
 
 the attach IP in."- - Don-la-" The fir-t Kdinbunth Review. . 
 
 AITKXDIX 
 
 I ent : P 'per in II nine'- handvt ritiu 
 
 ..a th ( .... t of |; . in I r IS an. I the . 
 
 Lett. i- Ire, a M,e : c . ;,c U to Hume, . 
 
 the A 1.1 , le Plane to Hume, 
 1 ' ItlH I to the Poem , t I i :.: , 
 
 ' a v on the t lenuiuen of tin Pi i'in<, 
 
 of it f.'l 
 
 -i I !
 
 Til i: LIFE 
 
 i) a v i i) h r m i-:. 
 
 CIIAPTKK 1 
 
 171 1 i;:;i. .Kt. o till. 
 
 iiirtli Parent a ire His own account of liis A nee-: r r.- >^:i ] a :i : 
 
 ot' Nineweil- IMueation Studies Karly (\>nv ]>iunlriiei Tin- Kain- 
 
 iineii uf hi- early Writing- li--ay mi Chivalry \\ h\ !.. 
 
 ,1 tdi t! , i, v, i;,,ly ami tio:i f. 1 i Se] I .-1 I'l.i; ; liy - 
 
 I.i': : . n:,' hi- -tii'lie- ami hahit- -- ( ritiei in un the 
 
 I.- : : r > - : 1 1 J i i itinii tiiat it wa- a'lihv.-^e.l to Dr. Cheyue Hume 
 u> ! 
 
 I > \ \ 1 1 > Hr.MF.was horn at Fdinhnrih. on tlie "Jo'th 
 of April. 1 1711. lit 1 was the second son of .Joseph 
 
 I I Him', or 1 Ionic proprietor of the estate of Nine wells, 
 in the parish of Chirnsido, in I >erwieksliire. I lis 
 mother was a daughter of Sir I hivid Falconer of 
 Newton, who tilled the otliee of Lord President of the 
 Court it' Session from 1 ( > S i? to Id^o, ;ind i< known 
 to lawyers as the collector of a series of decisions of 
 the Court of Session, published in 1 7'M . 1 1 i< son. the 
 hi o' 1p : of 1 1 mil' "s mother, succeeded to the haronv of 
 ! Inlk'Ttoit i" 17-7. Mr. 1 1 nine the elder, wasa inem- 
 hi -nit' (he Faculty of Advocates." lie appears. how- 
 
 1 {)].] S:yl.\ 
 
 - I i . I - <:;;< : " I i : : ' > I t;:i iIt! .; ; i Jiiih, 1 ?e ">. : 
 
 Mr. -Ji'.-c[i!i Ilunio uf Ni'.H'v. all--." I: iliu- ;i['['i';u-- tlia; li rthu- 
 
 I'.
 
 2 Tlii; LIFE OF DAVID HUME. Ciur. I. 
 
 ever, if lie ever intended to follow the legal profession 
 as a means of livelihood, to have early given up that 
 view, and to have lived, as his eldest son John after- 
 wards did, the life of a retired country gentleman. 
 
 It is an established rule, that all biographical 
 attempts of considerable length, shall contain some 
 genealogical inquiry regarding the family of their 
 subject. The present writer is relieved both of the 
 labour of such an investigation, and the responsibility 
 of adjusting it to the appropriate bounds, by being 
 able to print a letter in which the philosopher has 
 himself exhibited the results of an inquiry into the 
 subject. 
 
 David Hume to Alexander Home of Whitfield. 
 
 "Edinburgh, 12tk April, 1758. 
 
 "Dear Sir, I was told by Airs. Home, when she 
 was in town, that you intended to make some 
 researches into our family, in order to give them to 
 Mr. Douglas, who must insert them, or the substance 
 of them, into his account of the Scottish nobility. 1 I 
 think that your purpose is very laudable, and is very 
 obliging to us all; and for this reason I shall inform 
 \ on of what I know of the matter. These hints will at 
 least serve to point out to you more authentic docu- 
 ments. 
 
 " My brother has no very ancient charters: the oldest 
 ho has, are some charters of the lands of Horndean. 
 There ho is designated Home, or Hume, of Ninewells. 
 
 i_--rit j *!i v "flue name adopted by hi,- sou, and which will ho found to 
 lia\e been mi much the .subject of dispute, was not a, novelty to the 
 family. 
 
 1 !>' tli the v " Peerage " and the u J>aroiiage " of Scotland, by 
 lb'oeil h'li'j!;!-, in" well known to Scottish genealogical anti- 
 opairn . The Ibrnier was published in l?6'4. The latter, in which 
 'i i ' : :i kief inj oiml ol the Nincwcll.s' family, in ! ',!)}'.
 
 HIS I A.'.il.Y 
 
 Tin 1 oldest charters of Ninewells arc lust, it was 
 alwa\> a tradition in our family.that we wore descended 
 from Lord Homo, in this manner. Lord Home u'uve 
 to !iis younu'i'r son the lands of Tiimin^ham. Ik.-t 
 Littli'an. This u'eiitlemau proved a >e ondthrift ami 
 <!:--! j'lit'd his estate, upon wi.ioh Lord 1 1 omo provided 
 hi grandchild, or nephew, in the lands of .\iiie\yrll-; 
 as a patrimony. This, probably, is the reason why. in 
 all the hooks of heraldry, we are styled to be cad ..-' 
 of Tiiinin^hani ; and Tinninn'ham was undou -tedly a 
 cadet of Home. 1 was told by my ^rand-aunt, Mrs. 
 Sinelair of llermiston, that Charles earl of Home 
 told her, that he had been looking over some old 
 papers of the family, where the Lord Home designs 
 Home of Ninewells either his e;rnndson or nephew. I 
 do not preciseL" remember whieh. 
 
 '" 1'he late Sir dames Home of ISlaekadder showed 
 Hi" a jiaper, whieh he himself had copied a few daws 
 before from a gravestone in the churchyard of llutton: 
 tin- words were these 'Here lies .John Home of 
 Li 11. son of .John Home of Ninewells. son of .John 
 Hoar 1 of Tinnin^ham, son (d' dohn Lord Home, 
 founder of I ) un^'las/ 
 
 1 timl that 'his Lord Home founder of Han-la-. 
 was the very person whom (iodscroft .-ays \\ nt over 
 to franco with the Douglas, and was father to Tin- 
 1 1 i ! ; _ : L ; 1 1 1 1 : so thus the two stories tally exactly. II 
 iv;;> killed either in the battle of ('re van t or Ve.nouil. 
 m d by the I >nke of Uedl'ord. the r -vnt, ;: :ain>! 
 :' i remdi. 1 >oualas fell in the same battle. I think 
 i: wis t he bat ! ie of ' ern nil. All t he I 'reach :i : 1 
 leaaidt hi>i orie-. as well as the Se 1 , - 1 1 . c< n i ; :. : : i t';:s 
 fact. This Lord I lone' wa^ ymir ane -'.or. and our-, 
 lived in the time of .lames the l'ir.-1 ana Second of 
 Scotland. Henrv.^the Liiili an ! Sixth of Lajand.
 
 4 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. Chap. I. 
 
 " I have asked old Bell the descent of his family. 
 He said he was really sprung from Ninewells, but that 
 the lands fell to an heiress who married a brother of 
 Polwarth's. 
 
 "By Godscroft's account, Tinningham was the third 
 son of Home in the same generation that Wedderburn 
 was the second, so that the difference of antiquity is 
 nothing, or very inconsiderable. 
 
 " The readiest way of vouching these facts would be 
 for you to take a jaunt to the churchyard of Ilutton, 
 and inquire for Bell's monument, and see whether the 
 inscription be not obliterated ; for it is above twenty- 
 five years ago that I saw the paper in Sir James 
 Home's hand, and he told us, at that time, that the 
 inscription was somewhat difficult to be read. If it 
 be still legible it would be very well done to take a 
 copy of it in some authentic manner, and transmit it 
 to Mr. Douglas, to be inserted in his volume. If it 
 be utterly effaced, the next, but most difficult task 
 would 1)C to search for the paper above-mentioned in 
 the family of Home : it must be some time about the 
 year 1440 or 1450. If both these means fail, we 
 must rest upon the tradition. 
 
 fc - 1 am not of the opinion of some, that these matters 
 are altogether to be slighted. Though we should 
 pretend to be wiser than our ancestors, yet it is 
 arrogant to pretend that we are wiser than the other 
 nations of lairope, who, all of them, except perhaps 
 the English, make great account of their family 
 descent. I doubt that our morals have not much im- 
 proved since we began to think riches the sole thing 
 "11j i 'garding. J 
 
 >" '"iiui'xi.iii with this, it is not uninteresting to view [Tunic's 
 opinion.-; on the philosophy of family pride. He say-, in the 
 ''' ; :i?i: i f Human Nature, Book ii. p. i. boot. '.). 'Tis evident that.
 
 1711-17:'. I. 
 
 HIS FAMILY 
 
 "If I were in the country I should he elad to attend 
 you to Huttoii. in order to make the in(|uirv 1 propose. 
 I dould whether inv Itroth-T will think of doiirj; il : lie 
 has such an extreme awr.-ion to every tiling that 
 savours of vanity, that he would not willingly exj.ose 
 hinixdf to censure: hut this is a justice that ear owes 
 to their posterity, for we are not certain that the 
 matters will he always so little regarded. 
 
 "I -hall farther ohserve to you. that the Lord Home, 
 founder of I Mm -la-, married the heiress of that family, 
 of the name of I'epdie, and. from her we always h"ur 
 the I 'epineos in our arms. 
 
 '" I find in Hull's Chronicle that the Marl of Surrey, 
 in an inroad upon the Mer.se, made d urine." the rei^n 
 of Henry the la^lilh. after the hattle of hdoudeu, 
 destroyed the castles of I Iodderhurn. West Ni-ejal , 
 and I Jlackudder, and the towers of Ikisi Nis^ate. an ! 
 U iinvalls. The names, you see, are somewhat dis- 
 ii.oired; hut 1 cannot douht hut he means Ni-het 
 and Ninewells: t he situation of tin* places lead- us 
 to that conjecture. 
 
 uhi'ii :iuy .;: 1> .. I- nf tl,c ;intii|iiit v nf lii- f;i.iilv, tin- -uleeeis nf 
 In \ .-in '. ;irc ii.ii il,' .'!'. ll i \ !;* nf ; 'in.' :m 1 ooinl >er n| an.-. -t<>rs, 
 I' .: :i iiinl cn'.lil, v. ! ii-li aiv 1 !> r--!l<Ti a 
 
 . ' "II I ll-.-'.f nil ;iee ''III! i >f hi- r.-ial i..!l t'i 1 llt'lll. I i ' \'.V ' 
 
 fuIlM ,[,. i ],,..,. , ,',|, ,.; - ; j ; , j|' ( . ,.,[ |,v i 1 ., . n ill 1111 ;!;] va' '!. l!l:i! iut ; 
 : ; : ; . I 1 i-I ill !l ill : 1. i.-!. I . liilil .-It', ihl-lljli llie : !..!i nf |>;i!Vl:! 
 
 
 :.i on . . : . 
 n 1 v . v> i , . . ; I 
 
 L'lvo 'l [ i
 
 (; TIH-: LIFE OF DAVID HUME. Our. T. 
 
 "I have reason to believe, notwithstanding the fact, 
 as Ninewells lay very near Berwick, our ancestors 
 commonly paid contributions to the governor of that 
 place, and abstained from hostilities and were pre- 
 vented from ravages. There is, in Hayne's State 
 Papers, a very particular account of the ravages 
 committed by an inroad of the English, during the 
 minority of Queen Mary. 1 Not a village, scarce a single 
 house in the Merse, but what is mentioned as burnt 
 or overthrown, till you come to Whitwater. East of 
 the river, there was not one destroyed. This reason 
 will perhaps explain why, in none of the histories of 
 that time, even the more particular, there is any 
 mention made of our ancestors ; while we meet with 
 Wedderburn, Aiton, Mandcrston, Cowdcnknows, 
 Sprot, and other cadets of Home. 
 
 "I have learned from my mother, that my father, in 
 a lawsuit with Hilton, claimed an old apprizing upon 
 the lands of Hutton-Hall, upon which there had been 
 no deed done for 140 vears. Hilton thought that it 
 must necessarily be expired ; but my father was able 
 to prove that, during that whole time there had not 
 been forty years of majority in the family. He died 
 soon after, and left my mother very young; so that 
 there was near 1G0 years during which there was 
 not forty years of majority. 2 Now we arc upon this 
 
 1 Tii" document is tpmted in Book ii. of Robertson's History of 
 
 - A tragic incid.mi o.-eurrod in the year lGHo, in which Hume 
 : '. -', ;: ;d *'. i ' >n of I Filton, were victims to the revengeful 
 
 I > !"!i> of :i brother of the Karl of Home, vented under circum- 
 sfano .- of singular treachery ami inhospitality. It is thus narrated 
 in l-.'.v, Memorials, p. 2.>l). " December, i tit--'?, about the (lose of 
 i ! .: mi'iietli, the Earl himself being from home, the Lairds of 
 Milioii and Nynhools tame to make a vi-it to tlio Karl of Home 
 hi- heinr, and wen! to dice and cards with Mr. "William Home, 
 the Karl's brothm-. Some harp word- foil amongst them at their
 
 17! l-17'l. 
 
 HIS I VMILY. 
 
 subject, I shall just mention to yon ;i trifle, with 
 regard to the spelling of our name. The practice of 
 spelling Uuine is by tar the most ancient ami most 
 general till about the Ue-toration, when it became 
 common to spell Hum;- contrary to the pronunciation. 
 * >nr name is frequently incntionetl in Kymer's IV-deia. 
 and alway- spelt Hume. I timl a subscription of 
 Lord II nine in the memoirs of the Sidney family, 
 where it i- spelt a- I do at present. These are a ; 
 of the numberless authorities on this head. 
 
 ' I wish the materials I uive you were more nume- 
 rous and more .-at isfactory ; but such as they are. I am 
 ejudto have communicated them to vou. I am." &<.' 
 
 . \\ liir]i wciv 11. ii noticed. :i it -I'ciui'.l e. tln'iii : vm, u he: 
 t \\ ii i..'iitli'i.'ii'ii \\ i'iv L'"iir 1" th- ir hed-ehninher-, ! ho i - e. ; i ; 1 .Mr. 
 W i ] i ot in i nine- u|> \\ i:li hi- -v. : ! ami -tah> i I dimi wit h mm' ,le 
 wmind-. in In - ! n-il, that h.' . 1 ; . i i i i : i - 1 .;i i .-I v ; ami v. muni- \ villi- . 
 that ii w a- thmuht h< mil e, aioi immediate! v 
 
 i I I iiitu Kn_!aml - a t reach, ri.i; ami \ iilanmi> art done 
 | -i ::' _ lit h Mile! I, the t'l'llit - ,4' dicim: a m 1 ca id iran 
 "-I. -j-h .John-tone ,,1' Hih, ,m w;e -tahhed !,y Mr. William, 
 l,r,,th,-r t,i ( 'harie- , arh- of llmiif. I Ii!'. n l-i:ij , !' a h.l'iy 
 temper, had L'ivi-n Mr. Iliinit: had \mrd- in Id- own !. .. ,,)' 
 
 il It, :.. ami a h ,\ mi the ear Vn-1 W illiani Hume made he 
 
 ,- ca] to l'!n_daml. "ii H ill, ui'- Imr-,'. 1 lo v, a- alter hiilc-l hini-t It' 
 in tl , war- ;tii|-o:nl."- l.,-r,l l-'oiintainhaii'- l)iary. \>. '!'!. 
 'I'i.e e.lit..r..|" l.au. Mr. K irh patri.l, shaqe. append the ; 
 
 ;rt her llo! if,-- o| [111- lllel,!e!ll : 
 
 r.el', re hi- tleath he i - -aid to h;i\ e ret i ; rued to Set.' hind, ill it t, it 
 a ami learn |,ardmi o!" a near inal- i . 
 
 i -I hi. ',-:.' . ! h>ii re-idiii _: in I .diuhi.r _di. I hi . . ' '. 
 
 the , ..'.-. V ;, called !' ill io tile i I 
 
 1 . . a -t ramj-er niullle,! i: a \ 
 
 and iiaiiie.Iia: , 1 v di I .' "i d. r . 
 
 ' 
 w a- !! \ ,'.' :i a :. 
 
 1 ( ,,nv MS. ,;
 
 8 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. Chap. I. 
 
 A competent authority in sucli matters gives the 
 following partly heraldic, partly topographical account 
 of the Humes and their territory : 
 
 " Hume of Ninewells, the family of the great his- 
 torian, bore ' Vert a lion rampant, argent, within a 
 bordure or, charged with nine wells, or springs, barry- 
 wavy and argent.' 
 
 " The estate of Ninewells is so named from a cluster 
 of springs of that number. Their situation is pic- 
 turesque. They burst forth from a gentle declivity in 
 front of the mansion, which has on each side a semi- 
 circular rising bank, covered with fine timber, and 
 fall, after a short time, into the bed of the river White- 
 water, which forms a boundary in the front. These 
 springs, as descriptive of their property, were assigned 
 to the Humes of this place, as a difference in arms 
 from the chief of their house." 1 
 
 The scenes amidst which Hume passed his boyhood, 
 and many of the years of his later life, have subse- 
 quently, in the light of a national literature, become a 
 classic land, visited by strangers, with the same feeling 
 with which Hume himself trod the soil of Mantua. In 
 his own days, the elements of this literature were no 
 less in existence ; but it was not part of his mental 
 character to find any pleasing associations in spots, 
 remarkable only for the warlike or adventurous 
 achievements they had witnessed. Intellect was the 
 material on which his genius worked : with it were all 
 his associations and sympathies ; and what had not 
 been adorned by the feats of the mind had no charm 
 in his eye. Had lie been a stranger of another land, 
 visiting at the present, or some later day, the scenes 
 of the Lay and of Marmion, they would, without doubt, 
 
 1 ]il-f. and Alius. Aims, ]>. 400, where the information is derived 
 from Dou< r his'.s Baronage.
 
 ; i-it-" i. 
 
 SCT.NKS "I' ins VnrTII. 
 
 like tlio land of Virgil, have lit in his mini some 
 sympathetic uiow : lmt tlu* scones illustrated solely by 
 deeds of barbarous warfare, and by a rude illiterate 
 minstrelsy, had nothing in them to rouse a mind, 
 which was yet far from hein^ destitute of its own 
 peculiar enthusiasm. II** had often, in his history, to 
 mention Lireat historical events that had taken [dace 
 in the immediate vicinity of his paternal residence, 
 and in places to which he could hardly have escaped, 
 if he did not court occasional visits. About six miles 
 from Ninewells, stands Norham castle. Three or four 
 miles farther off, are Twiscl bridge, where Surrey 
 crossed the Till to en^aue the Scot-, and the other 
 localities connected with the battle of Flodden. In 
 the same neighbourhood is Iloliwell Hau^h. where 
 Kdward 1 . met the Scottish nobility, when he professed 
 himself to be the arbiter of the disputes between 1 5 nice 
 and Ikiliol. In his notices of these spots, in connexion 
 with the historical events which he describes, he bet rays 
 no symptom of having passed many of his youthful davs 
 in their vicinity, but is as cold and eeneral as when he 
 describes A nincourt or Marston Moor : and it ma v safely 
 be said, that in none of his historical or philosophical 
 writings does any expression \i>rd by him, unless in 
 t hose cases w here a Scot icism has escaped his vigilance, 
 betrav either the district or tic country of his origin. 1 
 
 ; I :.! ;<-li alhei.a: . :i th,- |", \\,,w in.: 1- la-l-I a- an exn 
 'I ' i: I ui.l :il...ii:i.N in lli-' I..-1 li..r.-f ,.i' all kiml- 
 
 \\'>rl<l. iii tin- in 'i:_'li 1 1 ii i i : _r < ' iiit i .!.:; !i 
 
 : li Tw i -!. in. _ 1 1. )- - i.f :in\ '. .. I.. I- i I 
 
 1'. av nil Natnnial ( 'liarui-tcr-. I In t In- j..,].- h.llva- ! 
 
 :i!l 1 -| IT;':.-:: i V ' 1 I "1 1 Ii.al ti T- 111 I "l-:l 1 1 -t i r "-] a 
 
 Tin' i-i-inai k- in l!.'' LAI may [ > i-< 1 >: 1 1 * v ]> <:< ": I- it -, 1 
 
 1 in _ ;i].]iiir;ilil.' ' " I . I'' a ' T | " I 1 ' ' ' HII'V llli'll a tho-i! 
 
 w Ii.. !,:i\ c at ; in].;. >1 In : rai .. t ' ' . ! : '.. . 
 
 lli" 1 ill it!: ' ' . . Ly thi-i !} r:irie-.
 
 ] THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. Chap. I. 
 
 Hume tells us, in his short autobiography, " My family 
 was not rich, and being myself a younger brother, my 
 patrimony, according to the mode of my country, 
 was of course very slender. My father, who passed 
 for a man of parts, died when I was an infant, leaving 
 me, with an elder brother and a sister, under the care 
 of our mother, a woman of singular merit, who, though 
 young and handsome, devoted herself entirely to the 
 rearing and education of her children." lie says no 
 more of his education, than that he " passed through 
 the ordinary course of education with success." In a 
 document which will be immediately quoted at length, 
 we find him speaking of having received the usual 
 college education of Scotland, which terminates when 
 the student is fourteen or fifteen years old. It is pro- 
 bable that he studied at the University of Edinburgh, 
 in the matriculation book of which the name of 
 
 can testify. Thomson, also a borderer, and a poet of rural life, 
 lias scarcely any allusion that bears a distinct reference to the 
 scenery of his childhood, and celebrates the heroism of almost every 
 land but his own. In that age, however, to be national in Scotland 
 was to be provincial in Britain; and unless an author chose to aim 
 at the restricted reputation of a Ramsay or a i'ennecuik, lie must 
 carefully slum allusions to his native country. But the very ex- 
 bteneeol this, as a general characteristic, seems to render it worthy 
 of notice; in this instance, which must certainly be held, like 
 Thomson's, a peculiarly marked illustration of this feature in 
 literary history. Hume had frequently to record events which had 
 taken place elose to his home; and the whole of the surrounding 
 di-triet was Full of traditional lore, about the wild life of the bor- 
 derers in the seventeenth century, which would have allbrded valu- 
 able mail rials for his history, and some of his other works, had he 
 been one of those who derive their knowledge from men as well as 
 iVuiii books. J'.nt these volumes will afford ample opportunity for 
 ei'-erv'my. that he required to place no great restraint on his pen 
 t" keep ii tree ol p: ivmcial allusions; and that, even in his most 
 familiai' letters, though he often speaks of the friends of his youth, 
 he says nothing of the place- in which he spent lib early davs.
 
 !;''' \TIi >N, 
 
 * " I > a \ i 1 Home " appears, as intrant of tlio class of 
 William Scott, Professor of < I reek, on *27th February, 
 1 7~'.k Hob line; the year to (mm tin nee on 1st J an nary, 
 which wn- then the practice in Scotland, though not 
 in KiiLi'laml. he won] 1 b> a! that time nearly twelve 
 years ohl. The name dors not appear in any of the 
 ^eipn-nt matriculation lists: it was prol ably not 
 tl; M t!i" practice for the student to he entered mere 
 than once, at the commencement of his curriculum: 
 and neither t!i<' name of Hume, nor of Home 1 , occurs, 
 in the li.-t of graduates. 
 
 < )f his method of studying, and of his habits of life, 
 a ft i r he left the university, as of his literary aspira- 
 tions and projects, we fortunately possess some canons 
 notices in his correspondence. The earliest letter 
 written lev Hume, known to he extant, i- in a scroll 
 which has hern apparently preserved by himself. It 
 is addiv- i] to Michael Uamsay. with whom it will 
 h" serii. from the lettrrs quoted in the course of this 
 work', that the friendship formed, when both were 
 youn^. remained uninterrupted and vigorous durine; 
 their mature years. I have been unable to discover 
 anv thinu" of the history of this Michael Kamsay, 
 beyond what may be gathered from the internal evi- 
 dence suppli I b\ the correspondence. I |e mu-t have 
 been destined for the lamlish Church, but he appears 
 
 ' to have taken orders: as in a letter from Hume. 
 though undated, mu-t have been written at an 
 advanced period f bo'h their lives. ]. j :M ldivss, d 
 " Michael 1 * : 1 1 1 1 < . : \ , k-'|." \\ ritine on 7>'di dime. 
 ! 7'! I. lie -a; - to I i mne, | ,-.,;. i imp. in the ,,]d 
 wamleriua; way in whieh I have pa - ,{ -o m/a-h of my 
 life, and in w hieh it i - bhv ly i -hall end it." He 
 appear- to have had. many connexions well to do in 
 tl: worl I. : ! to have ,f; \ |, f,, !V t!i veav I77!.
 
 j 2 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1727. 
 
 leaving bis papers in the possession of a nephew 
 havino- his own Christian name of Michael ; which was 
 also, it may be observed, the name of the Chevalier 
 Ramsay, of whom Hume's correspondent was perhaps 
 a relation. 1 
 
 Hume to Michael Ramsay. 
 
 "July 4, 1727. 
 
 " D" M. I received all the books you writ of, 
 and your Milton among the rest. When I saw it, I 
 
 1 Among the Hume Papers in the possession of the Royal 
 Society of Edinburgh, there is a letter from the chevalier, addressed 
 to " Monsieur dc Ramsay, a Piloted de Provence, Rue de Conde, 
 Faubourg St. Germain," dated 1st September, 1 742. The re- 
 ceiver of this letter was probably the correspondent of Hume, to 
 whom it may have been sent, Tinder the impression that he was 
 the person connected with the Vindication of the Duchess of Marl- 
 borough, a booh now well known to have been put into shape by 
 Ilooke, the historian of Rome. The letter is in English; and it 
 shows that there are works of genius which the author of "The 
 Travels of Cyrus " had not taste to appreciate. He says : 
 
 '1 have read the first book of 'The History of Joseph Andrews,' 
 but don't believe I shall be able to finish the first volume. Dull 
 burlesque is slid more insupportable than dull morality. Perhaps 
 my not understanding the language of low life in an English style 
 is the reason of my disgust; but I am afraid your Britannic wit is 
 at as low an ebb as the French. I hope to find some more amuse- 
 ment in lay Lady Duchess of Marlborough's adventures. They 
 say a friend of ours has some hand in them. 1 pity his misfortune, 
 if he i- obliged to stoop below his lino genius and talents, to please 
 an old rich dowager, thai neither de rrve- apology nor praise, and 
 thai would 1)0 too much In noun d for her ';., rit by a.n ingenious line 
 satyr. J long to be in a condition to travel, that [ may sec and 
 embrace you, make acquaintance with your amiable young Lord, 
 and a-.-uro von both of the tender zeal, friendship, and attachment 
 with which I am your most humble and most obedient servant, 
 
 ''The Hi. Ramsay." 
 
 Perhaps the criticism on Fielding may not he though! inconsistent 
 with the man who ] renounced Locke a shallow writer.
 
 l'.AKLY CoKKKSl'uNDKNCi:. 
 
 i;i 
 
 perceived there was a difference betwixt preachine* 
 and practising : you accuse nic of nicencss, and yet 
 practise it most eecreuiously yourself. What was the 
 necessity of sending your Milton, which 1 knew you 
 were so fond of.' Why. I lent your's and can't u'et 
 it. Iiut would you not, in the same manner, have lent 
 your own .' ^ es. Then, why this ceremony and eood 
 breeding \ | write all this to show you how easily 
 any action may be brought to hear the countenance 
 of a fault. ^ ou may justify yourself very well, by 
 saying it was kindness: and I am satisfied with it, 
 and thank you for it. So. in the same manner. I may 
 justify myself from your reproof's. You say that 1 
 would not send in my papers, because they were not 
 polished nor brought to any form: which you say is 
 nicety. I Jut was it not reasonable' Would you 
 have me s -ml in my loose incorrect thoughts ' W ere 
 such worth the transcribing '. All the progress that 
 1 made is but drawing the outlines, on loose bits of 
 paper: here a hint of a passion; there a phenomenon 
 in the mind accounted for: in another the alteration 
 of these accounts; sometimes a remark upon an 
 author I have been reading; and none of them worth 
 to any body, and 1 believe scarce to myself. The 
 only doi'ju 1 had of mentioniiie,' any of them at all. 
 was to see what you would have .-aid of your own. 
 v* bet her they were of the same kind, and if you would 
 semi an\ : and I have u'ot my end. fur von have eiven 
 '-' .-at i.-tactory reason for not conimunicat inu' 
 ', . in, l>\ promising tiny shall be told rira ',,,, a 
 much better way indeed, and in which I promise 
 mv.-elf much .-at i-factioii : for the free conversation of 
 a friend is what 1 would prefer to any entertainment, 
 .lust now ! am < itiivly coaliin. d to myself and libiary 
 for diversion since we par I.
 
 ].i, THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. J7-< 
 ca sola voluptus, 
 
 Solamenque mali l 
 
 And indeed to me they are not a small one : for I 
 take no more of them than I please ; for I hate task- 
 reading, and I diversify them at pleasure some- 
 times a philosopher, sometimes a poet which change 
 is not unpleasant nor disserviceable neither ; for what 
 will more surely engrave upon my mind a Tusculan 
 disputation of Cicero's De JEgritudine Lenicnda, than 
 an eclogue or georgick of Virgil's? The philosopher's 
 wise man and the poet's husbandman agree in peace of 
 mind, in a liberty and independency on fortune, and 
 contempt of riches, power, and glory. Every thing is 
 placid and quiet in both : nothing perturbed or dis- 
 ordered. 
 
 At secura quics, et ncscia fallcro vita 
 
 Speluncs>, viyique laci ; at frigida Teinpe, 
 Mugitusque boum, mollesquo .sub arbore somnos 
 Non absint. 2 
 
 " These lines will, in my opinion, come nothing short 
 of the instruction of the finest sentence in Cicero : 
 and is more to me, as Virgil's life is more the subject 
 of my ambition, being what I can apprehend to be 
 
 1 \ irg. ,-En. iii. CGO. 
 
 2 At secura quies, et ncscia fallcro vita, 
 Dive.- opum variarum : at latis otia fundis, 
 Sj:oluiica', viviquc laeus ; at frigida Tempo, 
 Mugitusquc bouin, mollesquo sub arbore somni 
 Non absunt. 
 
 Virg. (Icorg. ii. -I'i? et scq. 
 
 IH tbc course of the correspondence which follows, there will he 
 found several ([notations from the Latin classics. Hume's hand- 
 writing is so distinct, that we can seldom have any doubt of the 
 individual letters written by him. At the same time, as he appears 
 t;i have dv.ays quoted from memory, there is sometimes a greater 
 difference than even that exhibited above, between the original and
 
 
 KAKLY C(iRlii:>i'o.NI)EN( K. 
 
 more within my power, lor the perfectly wi.se 
 man. that outbraves fortune, is surely greater than the 
 hu>bandinan who slips by her; and, indeed, this 
 pastoral mid saturnian happiness, I have in a <rrcat 
 ineasurt' come at just now. i live like a hinu, pretty 
 liiiieh by myself. neither full of action nor perturba- 
 tion. ///<///' v Miiitiins. This state, however, I can 
 for. >(! is nut to ho relied on. .My peace of mind is 
 suUiciently continued I v philosophy to withstand 
 th< ; blows of fortune. This greatness and elevation 
 of soul is to ho found only in study and contemplation 
 this can alone teach us to look down on human 
 accidents. You must allow [me] to talk thus, like 
 a philosopher: 'tis a subject 1 think' much on, and 
 cot, Id talk all day lonu - of. I Jut 1 know I must not 
 trouble you. Wherefore I wisely practise my rules, 
 whndi prescribe to cheek' our appetite: and. for a 
 in or! i Mention, shall descend from these superior regions 
 to low and ordinary life: and so far as to tell you, 
 
 : - 1 1 {"if. I have thmiirlit, that wotv .1 ("attempt \<< n.nvi't 
 lil '('; ' ,' . I wiii! lil lie ivnio vim: valual'lr ilata IV' 'in hi<-h tin 1 
 
 ir b-v may (' rin an c-timate "I' I; - mental ji'.wit- an 1 hi- eilwu- 
 I: !i. It will [ t : I . :i j - I"- all.iwcil. that in - - in.- in-tamv- In -l.uws 
 , ; [Chili in .-iili-t itntiiiLf w !' I- t'"l' tli. - \\ h.'-li 1. :-::'!:: I'V 
 
 ! t":i : 1 - I tn ii'tain : while in utter-, a- in 1 1 . - a1i"\e |M"ta ; i"ii, the 
 i ' i-- . f l-'.n-lainl v* ii! ]" Hi: |>- l.-t.-ct I l:ii'< - i,f" the i imv 
 iti-ii "t Si-.. | Ian.!. I a hi |i'i1'li -In'. I u .'l-k-. 
 I I :;' tn l,:.\ i> an \ i < e. ! v i'. .Mat' -1 hi < [ 1 1 > . T : 1 1 ; ;:-. I !ul in hi 
 
 In li:;\ ! I'.'i-n alw a v- ni"i al".nt t la' j'nln' 
 
 < i'\]H , than tl ' "I' I la 
 
 .11 1,'t'rr- a|.|'i'af t' hav.' 1 .. . :i ca iv !lv r n- 
 
 >! t i ! :..: 1 h ' 
 I \ ' . ', 1 1 r 1 1 1 ft ' r t 1 1 i ! I . ! . ' V 
 
 i , , i 1 1 i . * I ;i a I > i : ' i - u i I 1 1 ; . r. i i \ i . 1 ( a n . n i I i ! . 
 
 Ian; I "I hi. w l.i'-h . i ' '. i : 
 
 
 .1. ,. i 
 
 n'V 1 ; ii 
 
 ir;: i .;. ; :
 
 ](j THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1727. 
 
 that John has bought a horse : he thinks it neither 
 cheap nor dear. It cost six guineas, but will be sold 
 cheaper against winter, which he is not resolved on as 
 yet. It has no fault, but bogles a little. It is tole- 
 rably well favoured, and paces naturally. Mamma 
 bids me tell you, that Sir John Home is not going 
 to town ; but he saw Eccles in the country, who says 
 lie will do nothing in that affair, for he is only taking 
 off old adjudications, so it is needless to let him see 
 the papers. He desires you would trouble yourself 
 to inquire about the Earlc's affairs, and advise us 
 what to do in this affair. 
 
 " If it were not breaking the formal rule of con- 
 nexions I have prescribed myself in this letter and 
 it did not seem unnatural to raise myself from so low 
 affairs as horses and papers, to so high and elevate 
 things as books and study I would tell you that I 
 read some of Longinus already, and that I am mightily 
 delighted with him. I think he does really answer 
 the character of being the great sublime he describes, 
 lie delivers his precepts with such force, as if he 
 were enchanted with the subject ; and is himself an 
 author that may be cited for an example to his own 
 rules, by any one who shall be so adventurous as to 
 write upon his subject." l 
 
 This is certainly a remarkable letter to have been 
 written by a youth little more than sixteen years old. 
 If it had been written by one less distinguished by the 
 
 1 From a scroll in the MSS. bequeathed by Baron Hume to the 
 Royal Society of Edinburgh. 
 
 An account of these MSS. will be found in the Preface. Hence- 
 forth., for the sake of brevity, they will be referred to thus MS. 
 Jv.S.1'1. A part of the above letter has been already printed in the 
 Literary Gazelle for 1821, p. 7o'2.
 
 .111. In. 
 
 AMIll TI"| S I'iii i.JKCTS. 
 
 '7 
 
 originality of his mature intellect, it miuM bo looked 
 upon as one of those illusj rations of the faculty of imi- 
 tation, for which some younu' persons display peculiar 
 powers; hut its e-Tave and hieji-tonod philosophical 
 feeling i.s evidently no echo of other people's words, 
 hut the deeply felt sentiments of the writer. In 
 some measure, perhaps, he deceived himself in believ- 
 iii'i that lie had attuned his mind to pastoral simpli- 
 city, and had weeded it of all ambitious lonu'inus. If 
 lie had a sympathy with Virgil, it was not, as he lias 
 represented, with the poet's ideas of life, but with 
 his realizations of it : not with the quiet sphere of a 
 retired and unnoticed existence, hut with the lustre of 
 a well-earned fame. Through the whole, indeed, of the 
 memorials of Hume's early feelings, we find the traces 
 of a hold and fa r-st ret chine; literary ambition : and 
 though he believed that he had seared his mind to 
 ordinal'}' human influences, it was because this one had 
 become so enu'rossinu; as to overwhelm all others. 
 'I was seized very early." he tells us, in his 'own 
 life,' " with a passion for literature, which has been the 
 ruling passion of my life, ami a n'reat source of niv 
 enjoyments." Joined to this impulse, we find a, 
 practical philosophy partaking far more of the stoical 
 than of that sceptical school with which his meta- 
 physical writings have identified him: a morality of 
 It-sacrifice and endurance, for the accomplishment of 
 ercnt ends. In whatever lcht we may view his specu- 
 lative opinions, we '.either from the habits of ins life, 
 and from the indications we possess of his passing 
 thoughts, that he devotedly acted up to tic- prin- 
 ciple, that his Renins and power of applicat ion should 
 be laid out with tic ".Teat est prospect of permanent 
 advantage to mankiml. lie was an economist of all 
 his talents from early vouih : no memoir of a literary 
 vol.. i c
 
 18 THE LIVE OF DAVID HUME. Chap. I. 
 
 man presents a more cautious and vigilant husbandry 
 of the mental powers and acquirements. There is no 
 instance of a man of genius who has wasted less in 
 idleness or in unavailing pursuits. Money was not 
 his object, nor was temporary fame ; though, of the 
 means of independent livelihood, and a good repute 
 among men, he never lost sight : but his ruling object 
 of ambition, pursued in poverty and riches, in health 
 and sickness, in laborious obscurity and amidst the 
 blaze of fame, was to establish a permanent name, 
 resting on the foundation of literary achievements, 
 likely to live as long as human thought endured, and 
 mental philosophy was studied. 
 
 There is among Hume's papers a fragment of " An 
 Historical Essay on Chivalry and Modern Honour." 
 It is evidently a clean copy from a corrected scrawl, 
 written with great precision and neatness, and no 
 despicable specimen of caligraphy. From the pains 
 that appear to have been bestowed on the penmanship, 
 and from many rhetorical defects and blemishes which 
 do not appear in any of his published works, it may 
 be inferred that this is a production of very early 
 years, and properly applicable to this period of his 
 life; although its matured thought, and clear systema- 
 tic analysis, might, in other circumstances, have indi- 
 cated it as the fruit of a mind long and carefully cul- 
 tivated. It is scarcely necessary to frame an excuse 
 for quoting such a document on the present occasion. 
 It could not be legitimately incorporated with his 
 works; because, whatever is given to the public in that 
 shape, is presumed to consist of those productions 
 which the author himself, or those entitled to represent 
 him, have thought fit to lay before the public, as the 
 efforts by which the full stretch and compass of his 
 intellectual powers are to be tested. From such
 
 i:ii-i::;j. 
 
 HIS KAKM \\ HI I'LNCS. 
 
 iy 
 
 collections the editor who performs his functions with 
 a kind and respectful consideration for the reputation 
 of the illustrious dead, will exclude whatever is 
 characterized by the crudeness of youth, or the feeble- 
 ness of superannuation. To the reputation of II nine 
 it would he peculiarly unjust to publish anion-' his 
 acknowledged and printed works, any productions of 
 extreme youth; because, from his earliest years to an 
 advanced period of his life, his mind was characterized 
 by constant improvement, and he was every now and 
 then reaching a point from which he looked back 
 with regret and disapprobation at the efforts of 
 earlier years. 
 
 lut in a biographical work, where the chief object 
 is the tracing the history of the author's mind, not the 
 representation of its matured efforts, these early 
 specimens of budding genius have their legitimate 
 }>laee. and receive that charitable consideration fo. 
 the circumstances in which they were written, which 
 their author's reputation demands. 
 
 The essay commences with a sketch of the decline 
 of virtue, and the prevalence of luxury anions the 
 Uomans; and describes their possession of the arts 
 which they had learned in their better days, when 
 not seconded by bravery and enterprise, as furnish- 
 ing, like the fine clothes of a soldier, a temptation to 
 hostile cupidity. lie then represents the conquerors 
 adapting themselves, after the manner peculiar to 
 ir own barbarous state, to the habits and ideas 
 of the civilized people whom thev had subdued. 
 111. 1 ivpre.-ent the conquered people as sunk in in- 
 dolence, but imperfectly preservinj; tic arts and 
 elegancies transmitted to them by their ancestors; 
 and the conquerors full of energy and activity, as the 
 sources of whatever impulse was thereafter u'iven to
 
 90 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. Chap. I. 
 
 thought or action. They " came with freshness and 
 alacrity to the business ; and being encouraged both 
 by the novelty of these subjects and by the success 
 of their arms, would naturally ingraft some new kind 
 of fruit on the ancient stock." He then proceeds with 
 the following train of reflections : 
 
 " Tis observable of the human mind, that when it 
 is smit with any idea of merit or perfection beyond 
 what its faculties can attain, and in the pursuit of 
 which it uses not reason and experience for its guide, 
 it knows no mean, but as it gives the rein, and even 
 adds the spur, to every florid conceit or fancy, runs in 
 a moment quite wide of nature. 'Thus we find, when, 
 without discretion, it indulges its devote terrors, that 
 working in such fairy-ground, it quickly buries itself 
 in its own whimsies and chimeras, and raises up to 
 itself a new set of passions, affections, desires, objects, 
 and, in short, a perfectly new world of its own, in- 
 habited by different beings, and regulated by different 
 laws from this of ours. In this new world 'tis so 
 possessed that it can endure no interruption from the 
 old ; but as nature is apt .still on every occasion to 
 recall it thither, it must undermine it by art, and 
 retiring altogether from the commerce of mankind, if 
 it be so bent upon its religious exercise, from the 
 mystic, by an easy transition, degenerate into the 
 hermito. The same thing is observable in philosophy, 
 which though it cannot produce a different world in 
 which we may wander, makes us act in this as if we 
 were different beings from the rest of mankind; at 
 least makes us frame to ourselves, though we cannot 
 execute them, rules of conduct different from those 
 which arc sot to us by nature. So engine can supply 
 the place of wings, and make us fly, though the ima-
 
 1711-17."]. 
 
 ESSAY UN C111VAI.UV 
 
 filiation of such a onn may make us stretch and strain 
 and elevate ourselves r.pmi our tiptoes. Ami in this 
 casr of an imagined merit, ihe farther our chimeras 
 hurry us from nature, ami the practice of the world, 
 the butter pleased we are. as valuing ourselves upon 
 tin: singularity of our notions, and thinking we depart 
 from the r,->t of mankind only by living above them. 
 W here there is none we excel, we are apt to think 
 we have no excellency ; and self-conceit makes u.-i 
 take (very singularity tor an excellency. 
 
 * \\ hen. therefore, these barbarian-- came tirst to the 
 relish of some decree of virtue and politeness beyond 
 what they had ever before been acquainted with, 
 their minds would necessarily stretch themselves into 
 some vast conceptions of thine-, which, not bein^ 
 corrected by .-ufiicient judgment and experience, must 
 be empty and uiisolid. Those who hud first bred 
 these conceptions in them could not assist them in 
 their birth, a> the (irecians did the Uomans ; but 
 beinn' themselves scarce lialf civilized, would be 
 rather apt to entertain any extravagant misshapen 
 conceit of their conquerors, than able to lick it into 
 uiiv form. Twns thus that that monster of romantic 
 chivalry, or knight-errantry, by the necessary opera- 
 tion of the principles of human nature, was brought 
 into the world : and it is remarkable that it descended 
 from the Moors and Arabians, who, lea mine.' some- 
 what of the Koman civditv from the province they 
 conquered. ;md beine; themselves a southern p ople, 
 which are commonly ob>er\e.l jo be more quick ai; 1 
 inventive ;h:ni the northern, were the ti:>i who i'ell 
 upon this vein of achievement. When it was once 
 broken upon it run like wild- lire o\ r all the nations 
 of Kurope, who. Iieiuu in th< a: i n with these 
 
 nations, kindled with the least s->ark.
 
 22 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. Chap. I. 
 
 " What kind of monstrous birth this of chivalry must 
 prove, we may learn from considering the different 
 revolutions in the arts, particularly in architecture, 
 and comparing the Gothic with the Grecian models 
 of it. The one are plain, simple, and regular, but 
 withal majestic and beautiful, which when these bar- 
 barians unskilfully imitated, they ran into a wild 
 profusion of ornaments, and by their rude embellish- 
 ments departed far from nature and a just simpli- 
 city. They were struck with the beauties of the 
 ancient buildings; but, ignorant how to preserve a just 
 mean, and giving an unbounded liberty to their fancy 
 in heaping ornament upon ornament, they made the 
 whole a heap of confusion and irregularity. For the 
 same reason, when they would rear up a new scheme 
 of manners, or heroism, it must be strangely over- 
 charged with ornaments, and no part exempt from 
 their unskilful refinements ; and this we find to have 
 been actually the case, as may be proven by running 
 over the several parts of it." 
 
 lie then inquires into the reason, why courage is 
 the principal virtue of barbarous nations, and why they 
 esteem deeds of heroism, however useless or mis- 
 chievous, as far more meritorious than useful efforts 
 of government or internal organization. Ho contrasts 
 the heroism of the barbarous periods of the ancient 
 world, with those of the dark ages of modern Europe ; 
 and finding the former selfish and aggrandizing, while 
 the latter is characterized by the more generous 
 features of chivalry, he thus accounts for this charac- 
 teristic. 
 
 "The method by which these courteous knights 
 acquired this extreme civility of theirs, was by mixing- 
 love with their courage. Love is a very generous 
 passion, and well fitted both to that humanity and
 
 J 71 1-17:! 1. 
 
 ESSAY (i.N v HlVALIiV. 
 
 courage they would reconcile. The only one that 
 can contest with it is friendship, which, besides that 
 it is too refined a passion for common use, is not 1 v 
 many decrees so natural as love, to which almost 
 everyone has a urea t propensity, and which it is 
 impossible to see a beautiful woman, without feeling 
 "in" touches of. ISesides, as love is a capricious 
 pas-ion. it is the more susceptible of these fantastic 
 forms, which it must take when it mixes wish chivalry, 
 friendship is a solid and serious tiling, and. like the 
 love of their country in the Ivoman her'vs. would 
 dispel and put to Might all the chimeras, inseparable 
 from this spirit of adventure. So that a mistress is 
 as necessary to a cavalier or kniuht-errant, as a u'od 
 or .saint to a d votee. Nor would he stop here, or 
 be contented with a submiss reverence and adoration 
 to on" of the sex. but would extend in some 
 decree the same civility to t!ie whole, and by a 
 curious rt-viTscnient of the order of nature, make them 
 tie- -uperior. This. is no more than what is suitable 
 to that inliiiiie ejenerositv of which he makes profes- 
 sion, livery thine; b. low him he treats with sub- 
 mission, and cverv thin.:' above him. with contumacy. 
 Thus he carries these double symptoms of u'eiicrosity 
 Si \ ireii makes mention of into extravagance. 
 
 I !e!iee ari-es tli.' kniai.t-ernmt's stroiie" and irr. < :.- 
 
 to ::i! ,;i :nost humb]" 
 
 ' : ,' ! f w . > 
 r! i< ii - "f 1. ! -. 1 in'.i - ia ail ids ; \ 
 
 " As a cavali' r i '.''' 
 
 of love, tempered with the mos hum: I . -ay
 
 24 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. Chap. I. 
 
 and respect, his mistress's behaviour is in every point 
 the reverse of this ; and what is conspicuous in her 
 temper is the utmost coldness along with the greatest 
 haughtiness and disdain ; until at last, gratitude for 
 the many deliverances she lias met with, and the 
 giants and monsters without number that he has 
 destroyed for her sake, reduces her, though unwilling, 
 to the necessity of commencing a bride. Here the 
 chastity of women, which, from the necessity of human 
 affairs, has been in all ages and countries an extrava- 
 gant point of honour with them, is run into still greater 
 extravagance, that none of the sexes may be exempt 
 from this fantastic ornament. 
 
 " Such were the notions of bravery in that age, and 
 such (lie fictions by which they formed models of it. 
 The effects these had on their ordinary life and con- 
 versation was, first, an extravagant gallantry and 
 adoration of the whole female sex, and romantic no- 
 tions of extraordinary constancy, fidelity, and refined 
 passion for one mistress. Secondly, the introduction 
 of the practice of single combat. How naturally this 
 sprung up from chivalry may easily be understood. 
 A knight-errant fights, not like another man full of 
 passion and resentment, but with the utmost civility 
 mixed with his undaunted courage. He salutes you 
 before he cuts your throat ; and a. plain man, who 
 understood nothing of the mystery, would take him for 
 a treacherous ruffian, and think that, like Judas, he was 
 betraying with a kiss, while lie is showing his gene- 
 rous calmness and amicable courage, in consequence 
 of this, every thing is performed with the greatest 
 ceremony and order; and whenever either chance or 
 his superior bravery make either of them victorious, 
 he generously gives his antagonist his lire, and again 
 embraces him as his friend. When these fantastic
 
 i;n-i::u. 
 
 KSSAY UN ( II1VALUY 
 
 practices have come in use. the amazed world, who, 
 merely hceau.se there is nothing real in all this, must 
 certainly imagine there is a L^reat deal, could not hut 
 look upon such a courteous enmity as the most heroic 
 and suhliuie tiling in nature ; and instead of punishing 
 any murder that mi-lit ensue, as the law directs in 
 such ea>es, would praise and applaud the murderer." 
 
 1 li iiiav 1' intoiv-tin^ to compare these extract- with his 
 ini'tliu.l df treating the same siihject at a later period of hi- life. 
 Tin' fillouiii^ i- taken from hi- l'.--av on the Feudal and A ult1<>- 
 Nonnan ( iovermiieut and Manners, in the two volume- of his 
 1 li-t'.ry. tir.-i puhli-hed in 1 ?o'l\ 
 
 "The feudal in-titutions. hv rai-ini: the military tenant- to a 
 kind of -overeii:n dLmitv, hv ren<leriii_' per-oiial strenirth ami 
 valour i-eijui-ite, and hv making everv knLdit and l:ir- -n hi- own 
 protector and aveiiL'cr, he^at that martial pride a:id -eii-o ><( 1. n-uir, 
 
 which. heiiiLT cultivate, 1 uiid i nihflli.-hi'cl 1 > v the ] :- and romance 
 
 w liter'- of the aire, ended in chi '. al rv. 'I'he \ irt'ioii- kni_rht foiiirht 
 ii' ' only in hi- own >piarnl. hut in that of the innocent, of the help- 
 le--, and, aho\o all, of the fair, w lioui he -uppo-ed to he for ever 
 r the L'uardian-hip of hi- valiant arm. The uueourteoii- kni_dit, 
 who, from In- cn-tle, o.erci-ed rol)herv on traveller-, and committed 
 violence on \ ir_ria-, \va- the ohjoel ot hi- perpetual indignation ; ami 
 he put him to death without -cruple. or trial, or appeal, whenever 
 he iipt With hllll. The -I'eat independence of llli'll Iliad'' per-onal 
 ! u ur and tidehtv the chief tie anions them, and rend, red it the 
 capital \ utile o| everv t rue km _'];!. i.r genuine pri.fe--or of ehi\ alrv. 
 The -;.: 1 1 1 1 i I i - of -in_de con i hat. a- e-tahli-!,ed hv law. hani-hed the 
 e\ erv thin_ r unfair or uiiec|ual in reiicountei-. ami maiutaiiied 
 
 an appearance o| eollMo-V hetweell the coUihatatlt- till the liloiui nt 
 of their ellira-'elllellt. The clvdu I i t V , ,f ( ] ,, a . e _ ra f: ed oil thi- -t,.ck 
 
 I int . eiiehanter-. -pell-, and a thoii-and loiinki , 
 I In lime of the cm i.|, . \ 
 
 . ili-1 nice, ii-ed the lil.i-rt \ 
 
 r ln-lie\ in/ aii'lieuee. The i : , o| c] \ alrv 
 
 infected the w ni . CoJi\ el ;..| . ;. ; i f 1 1 ! ! I , i . ' 
 
 e ii.'i- : atid e\ en a! 1 a ere mi a _ iva! im-a nd 
 
 hv the re\ n a I oi . tl.e\ l> l't m . I the 
 
 / '<!>/ /> f "/. w h'ch ' | ,. a- i 
 
 LTelluil ;:.."
 
 2G THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1728. 
 
 Perhaps the reader of these passages will have come 
 to the conclusion that the powers of reason displayed 
 in them are as bold and original as the imagination is 
 meagre and servile. The reflections on Gothic archi- 
 tecture are the commonplace opinions of the day, 
 uttered by one who was singularly destitute of sym- 
 pathy with the human intellect, in its early efforts to 
 resolve itself into symmetry and elegance ; whose mind 
 shrunk from the contemplation of any work of man 
 that did not bear the stamp of high intellectual cul- 
 ture. The same want of sympathy with man in his 
 rude and grand, though inharmonious efforts, here 
 attends both the chivalric manners and the solemn 
 architecture of the dark ages. Of the former, he 
 has made a cold, clear, unsympathizing, perhaps accu- 
 rate estimate. The latter, unless a large proportion 
 of the architectural enthusiasts of the present day 
 have raised the taste of the age upon false foundations, 
 he utterly misappreciated. 
 
 It must have been about his seventeenth year that 
 Hume commenced, and abruptly relinquished the 
 practical study of the law, a curious episode in his 
 history, which he thus describes in his "own life:" "My 
 studious disposition, my sobriety, and my industry, 
 gave my family a notion that the law was a proper 
 profession for me ; but I found an insurmountable 
 aversion to every tiling but the pursuits of philosophy 
 and general learning; and while they fancied I was 
 poring upon Voet and Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil 
 were the authors which I was secretly devouring." 
 
 But this by no means gives the reader a full and 
 faithful impression of his motives. The passage calls 
 up the vision of a contemplative, gentle, unambitious 
 youth, shrinking from the arid labours that lead to 
 wealth and distinction, and content to dream away
 
 .V.r. 17. 
 
 DKSKliTS Till". [.AW. 
 
 his life in obscurity with the companionship of his 
 favourite hooks. The document already referred to, 
 and immediately to he quoted, shows that far other 
 thoughts were in his mind : that lit.' did not shrink 
 from the professional labours of the bar, to sink into 
 studious ease, but rejected them to encounter higher 
 and more arduous toils that he did not drop passively 
 from the path of ambition opened to him, bat deserted 
 it for a higher and more adventurous course. lie 
 had indeed already before him the prospect of being a 
 discoverer in philosophy, and his mind, crowded with 
 the images of his new system, could see nothing else 
 in life worthy of pursuit. 
 
 Without this clue. Hume's aversion to the study of 
 the law would have been a problem not to be easily 
 solved. Nad he lived in the present day. when the 
 mass of statute and precedent that have accumulated 
 even within the narrow domain of Scottish law, have 
 completely precluded those luxurious digressions into 
 the field of speculation and theory, which charac- 
 terized the legal practice of our ancestors, one might 
 readily comprehend the aversion of his fastidiously 
 cultivated logical mind to such hard and coarse 
 materials. I5ut a lawyer's library, in his days, 
 consisted of the classics, the philosophers of mind, 
 and the civilians. The advocate often commenced his 
 pleadings with a quotation from the young philoso- 
 pher's favourite poet \ irgil, and then digressed into 
 a speculative inquiry into the general principles of 
 law and government: the philosophical u<niii- of 
 Themis long soaring sublime, until at last, folding her 
 wings, she rested on some vulgar question about drv 
 multure.- or an irritancy of a tailzie, to the settlement 
 of which the wide princij les so announced were a] 'plied. 
 Surelv that seienc", within the 1 ouudaries of which
 
 23 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1721). 
 
 the speculative spirit of Lord Karnes had room for its 
 
 flights, could not have been rejected on the ground 
 that it cramped and restrained the faculty of genera- 
 lizing. 1 Yet in a letter to Smith, of 12th April, 1750, 
 which shows that Hume retained his antipathy to the 
 study to an advanced period of his life, he says, " I 
 am afraid of Karnes' Law Tracts. A man might 
 as well think of making a fine sauce by a mixture of 
 wormwood and aloes, as an agreeable composition by 
 joining metaphysics and Scottish law. However, the 
 book I believe has merit, though few people will take 
 the pains of inquiring into it." 
 
 In truth there appear to have been in Hume all 
 the elements of which a good lawyer is made : 
 clearness of judgment, power of rapidly acquiring 
 knowledge, untiring industry, and dialectic skill ; and, 
 if his mind had not been preoccupied, he might have 
 fallen into that gulf in which many of the world's 
 greatest geniuses lie buried professional eminence, 
 and might have left behind him a reputation limited 
 to the traditional recollections of the Parliament 
 House, or associated witli important decisions. He 
 was through life an able, clear-headed man of business, 
 and 1 have seen several legal documents written in 
 his own hand and evidently drawn by himself. They 
 stand the test of general professional observation ; and 
 
 1 Perhaps few authors afford so many curious illustrations of 
 the substitution of fanciful analogy for the severe logic of a practical 
 lawyer, as Lord Karnes c.y. when, in his essays on British anti- 
 quities, he identifies hereditary descent with the law of gravitation, 
 and the inclination of the mind to continue downwards in a straight 
 line, as a stone falls from a height; so that, "in tracing out a family, 
 the mind descends by degrees from the father, first to the eldest 
 son, and so downwards in the order of age:" pleasant enough 
 speculations, yet not likely to serve any good purpose in practical 
 law.
 
 .r... i.<. 
 
 m:skuts rin: law. 
 
 29 
 
 their writer, 1 v preparing documents of such a 
 character on his own responsibility, showed that lie 
 h:id considerable confidence in his ability to adlicre to 
 the forms adequate for the occasion. lie talks of it 
 as "an ancient prejudice industriously propagated by 
 the dunces iii all countries, that <i man uf <j- ,u/i.s i\ 
 unfit In/- hns'iiii w ,-" ' and he showed, in his e'cncral 
 conduct through life, that he did not choose to come 
 voluntarily under this proscription. 
 
 His writings, however, hear but slight traces of his 
 juridical studies. In analysing the foundations of 
 our notions of property, he criticises some of the 
 subtleties of the early civilians, but .-hows no more 
 intimate acquaintance with their works than any well- 
 informed scholar of the day mi-lit be supposed to 
 exhibit. I le shows no pleasure in dwdlini; on matters 
 connected with this study, but rather appear- disposed 
 to r<h'a->' hini>elf and his reader from a subject so little 
 cmiu-'iiial to his ta-te. The particular law of Scotland is 
 me (f tho.-e subjects to which he would h careful to 
 avoid a reference, as carrying with it that tone of 
 provincial thought and educat ion w hich lie was always 
 anxious to avoid. It may be perhaps an unfortunate 
 re.-ult of this early prejudice against tic study of 
 juri.-prailence, that in after life he failed to acquire 
 that knowledge of the progress of the law of Knjaml, 
 
 : -h would have made hi- history niiudi h . amenable 
 tli"u i< has been to censorious criticism. 
 
 It is now time that the iva I-r should be po-se-sed 
 
 of the doeraiient above alluded to. IIS thruwiliu' milch 
 
 li_!, on Hume's early studies and habits i,\' lite; 
 an 1 it is here or uted. without auv introductory 
 
 ex 
 
 it tir-J 
 
 i -. 
 
 apj eare.l to u;e m u'oii:^ t urolith 
 
 the papers in the po i .< 1 1 r Jc Uoyal Society.
 
 SO THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 A Letter to a Physician. 
 " Sir, Not being acquainted with this handwriting, 
 you \\ ill probably look to the bottom to find the sub- 
 scription, and not finding any, will certainly wonder 
 at this strange method of addressing to you. I must 
 here in the beginning beg you to excuse it, and, to 
 persuade you to read what follows with some atten- 
 tion, must tell you, that this gives you an opportunity 
 to do a very good-natured action, which I believe is 
 the most powerful argument I can use. I need not 
 tell you, that I am your countryman, a Scotsman ; 
 for without any such tie, I dare rely upon your 
 humanity even to a perfect stranger, such as I am. 
 The favour I beg of you is your advice, and the reason 
 why I address myself in particular to you, need not 
 be told, as one must be a skilful physician, a man 
 of letters, of wit, of good sense, and of great humanity, 
 to give me a satisfying answer. I wish fame had 
 pointed out to me more persons, in whom these 
 qualities are united, in order to have kept me some 
 time in suspense. This I say in the sincerity of my 
 heart, and without any intention of making a com- 
 pliment ; for though it may seem necessary, that, in 
 the beginning of so unusual a letter, I should say some 
 fine things, to bespeak your good opinion, and remove 
 any prejudices you may conceive at it, yet such an 
 endeavour to be witty, would ill suit with the present 
 condition of my mind ; which, I must confess, is not 
 without anxiety concerning the judgment you will 
 form of me. Trusting, however, to your candour and 
 generosity, 1 shall, without further preface, proceed 
 to open up to you the present condition of my health, 
 and to do that the more effectually, shall give you a 
 kind of history of my life, after which you will easily 
 learn why I keep my name a secret.
 
 .l'.i. -::\. 
 
 I.LI'IKR TO A PHYSICIAN. 
 
 SI 
 
 ' You must know then that, from my curliest infancy, 
 1 found always a strong inclination to books ami 
 letters. As our college education in Scotland, ex- 
 tcndinLr little further than tin; lanumieo'S, ends com- 
 monly when we arc ahout fourteen or fifteen years of 
 :e_ r <'. I was after that left to my own choic<' in my 
 ] adiiiLf. and found it incline me almost equally to hooks 
 of ri a-ouiu-' and philosophy, and to poetry and the 
 polite authors. livery one who is acquainted either 
 with the philosophers or critics, knows that there is 
 nothing yet established in either of these two sciences, 
 and that they contain little more than endless disputes, 
 even in the most fundamental artich-s. I 'poll exa- 
 mination of these, i found a certain boldness of temper 
 Lrrowin'j: in me, which was not inclined to submit to 
 any authority in these subjects, but led me to seek 
 out -one 1 new medium, by which truth mi^itt be estab- 
 lished. After much study and reflection on this, at 
 last, when 1 was about eighteen years of au - e. there 
 Si iji* d to be opened up to me a new scene of thought, 
 which transported me beyond measure, and made me. 
 with an ardour natural tit youne; men. throw up every 
 other pleasure or business to apply entirely to it. 
 The hi w. which was the business I designed to follow, 
 appeared nauseous to me, and I could think of no 
 other way of pushing my fortune in the world, but 
 thai of ;: scholar and philosopher. I was inlinitely 
 happy in tlii- course of life for some months: til! at 
 1:;-!. abi.tit the bei/ninin^ of September, I7'_l.'>. all my 
 ardour -''iced in a moment to lie extinguished, and I 
 could no longer raise niy mind to thai pilch. v.hieh 
 formerly i:'a\e me Mich excessive pha-mre. I f.-It no 
 uneasiness or waul of -piri -. when I laid aside my 
 book; and therefore never imagined there was any 
 bodily distemper in the case, but that my coldness
 
 32 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 proceeded from a laziness of temper, which must be 
 overcome by redoubling my application. In this con- 
 dition I remained for nine months, very uneasy to 
 myself, as you may well imagine, but without growing 
 any worse, which was a miracle. There was another 
 particular, which contributed, more than any thing, to 
 waste my spirits and bring on me this distemper, 
 which was, that having read many books of morality, 
 such as Cicero, Seneca, and Plutarch, and being smit 
 with their beautiful representations of virtue and 
 philosophy, I undertook the improvement of my tem- 
 per and will, along with my reason and understanding. 
 I was continually fortifying myself with reflections 
 against death, and poverty, and shame, and pain, and 
 all the other calamities of life. These no doubt are 
 exceeding useful, when joined with an active life, 
 because the occasion being presented along with the 
 reflection, works it into the soul, and makes it take a 
 deep impression ; but in solitude they serve to little 
 other purpose, than to waste the spirits, the force of 
 the mind meeting with no resistance, but wasting 
 itself in the air, like our arm when it misses its aim. 
 This, however, I did not learn but by experience, and 
 till I had already ruined my health, though I was 
 not sensible of it. Some scurvy spots broke out on 
 my fingers the first winter I fell ill, about which I 
 consulted a very knowing physician, who gave me 
 some medicine that removed these symptoms, and at 
 the same time gave me a warning against the vapours, 
 which, though I was labouring under at that time, T 
 fancied myself so far removed from, and indeed from 
 any other disease 1 , except a slight scurvy, that 1 de- 
 spised his warning. At last, about April 17.10, when 
 I was nineteen years of age, a symptom, which T had 
 noticed a little from the beginning, increased consi-
 
 .Ki. '2i\. 
 
 LETTER TO A 1'IIYSM IA.V 
 
 .33 
 
 derably ; bo that, though it was no uneasiness, the 
 novelty of it made me ask advice : it was what they 
 call a ptyalism or wateryness in the mouth. I'pou 
 my mentioning it to my physician, he laughed at me, 
 and told me I was now a hrother, for that I had 
 fairly got the disease of tie' learned. < >f this he 
 found great difficulty to persuade me. thulium in my- 
 .-. It' nothing of that lowness of spirit, which those 
 who lahonr under that disteni]>er so much complain 
 of. However upon his advice 1 went under a course oi 
 hitters, and anti-hysteric pills, drank an English pint 
 of claret wine every day. and rode eight or ten Scotch 
 miles. This I continued for about seven months after. 
 ' Though I was sorry to rind myself engaged with 
 so tedious a distemper, yet the knowledge of it set 
 me very much at ease, by satisfying me that my former 
 coldness proceeded not from am defect of temper or 
 genius, but from a disease to which anv one may be 
 subject. 1 now began to take .-one 1 indulgence to 
 myself; studied moderately, and only when I found 
 my .-pirits at their highest pitch, having oil" before 1 
 was weary, and trifling away the rest of my time in 
 the best manner 1 could. In this way, I lived with 
 satisfaction enough : and on my return to town next 
 winter found my spirits very much recruited, so that. 
 i ; nigh they sank under me in the higher (lights of 
 genius, yet 1 \\a.-> able to make considerable progress 
 in my former designs. I was very regular in my diet 
 1 wav of lit*- from the beginning, and all that winter 
 l'< mstant rule to ride tw ice or thrice a- week. 
 
 Walk even day. I'or these leasoll-. i expected, 
 
 n 1 returin 1 to the coun'rv. and could renew my 
 exercise w ith ! interrupt ion. that I w < , M p rfectly 
 recover. lint in this | was much mUtuken : for next 
 summer, about May 17->1. ti re grew upon me a very 
 
 Vol.. I. ;i
 
 34 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 3 734, 
 
 ravenous appetite, and as quick a digestion, which I 
 at first took for a good symptom, and was very much 
 surprised to find it bring back a palpitation of heart, 
 which I had felt very little of before. This appetite, 
 however, had an effect very unusual, which was to 
 nourish me extremely ; so that in six weeks' time, I 
 passed from the one extreme to the other ; and being 
 before tall, lean, and raw-boned, became on a sudden 
 the most sturdy, robust, healthful-like fellow you have 
 seen, with a ruddy complexion and a cheerful counte- 
 nance. In excuse for my riding, and care of my 
 health, I always said that I was afraid of consump- 
 tion, which was readily believed from my looks, but 
 now every body congratulated me upon my thorough 
 recovery. This unnatural appetite wore off by degrees, 
 but left me as a legacy the same palpitation of the 
 heart in a small degree, and a good deal of wind in my 
 stomach, which comes away easily, and without any 
 bad (/out, as is ordinary. However, these symptoms 
 are little or no uneasiness to me. I cat well ; I sleep 
 well ; have no lowness of spirits, at least never more 
 than what one of the best health may feel from too 
 j'ull a meal, from sitting too near a fire, and even that 
 degree I feel very seldom, and never almost in the 
 morning or forenoon. Those who live in the same 
 family with me, and see me at all times, cannot ob- 
 serve the least alteration in my humour, and rather 
 think me a better companion than I was before, as 
 choosing to pass more of my time with them. This 
 gave me such hopes, that I scarce ever missed a day's 
 riding, except in the winter time : and last summer 
 undertook a very laborious task, which was to travel 
 eight miles every morning, and as many in the fore- 
 noon, to and from a mineral well of some reputation. 
 I renewed the bitter and anti-hysteric pills twice,
 
 LETTER To A I'll Y.SICIAN. 
 
 along with anti-scorbutic juice, last spring, hut without 
 any considerable eifect, except abating the symptoms 
 for a little time. 
 
 "Thus 1 have given you a full account of the coil- 
 ilitiou of my "hotly ; and without staving to ask par- 
 don, as 1 ought to do, for so tedious :i store, shall 
 explain to you how my mind stood all this time, 
 which on every occasion, especially in this distemper, 
 have a very near connexion together. 1 laving now 
 tine and leisure to cool my inflamed imagination, 1 
 began to consider seriously how 1 should proceed in 
 my philosophical inquiries. 1 t'jund that the moral 
 philosophy transmitted to us I> v antiquity lahoured 
 under tin: same inconvenience that has been found in 
 their natural philosophy, of being entirely hypotheti- 
 cal, and depending more upon invention than expe- 
 rience : r\ryy one consulted his fancy in erecting 
 -che nies of virtue ami of happiness, without regarding 
 human nature, upon which every moral c mclus'.en 
 must depend. This, therefore, 1 resolved to make my 
 principal <udy. and the source from which i would 
 derive every truth in criticism as well as morality. 
 I believe it is a certain fact, that most of the philo- 
 sophers who have gone before us, have been u\er- 
 t brown bv the greatness of their genius, and that little 
 more is required to make a man succeed in this stu !y, 
 i to throw oil' all prejudices either for his own 
 opinions or for those of other-. At lea-t this i.s all I 
 
 l.;\e to depend Oil tol" tllC tl'Uth of 1 1 1 V IVa-Ollinj's, 
 
 ' have multiplied to such a degre '. that within 
 the-e three years, 1 lind I have scribbled iiiii'iy a 
 ;,.',. of paper, in which tlcre is 1 1 < > 1 1 1 i 1 1 _" contain d 
 hnt niv o ,\ a in', !,' i >'.>.-. Y!.;-. w i: !i ; h r. adin _; m i.-t 
 of the ctdfbrated books in l/.e in. i'r an h, an i i -.:_]:-';, 
 and acquiring the Italian, vo'i mav think a - d!ie: -i l t
 
 36 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 business for one in perfect health, and so it would 
 had it been done to any purpose ; but my disease was 
 a cruel encumbrance on me. I found that I was not 
 able to follow out any train of thought, by one con- 
 tinued stretch of view, but by repeated interruptions, 
 and by refreshing my eye from time to time upon 
 other objects. Yet with this inconvenience I have 
 collected the rude materials for many volumes ; but 
 in reducing these to words, when one must bring the 
 idea he comprehended in gross, nearer to him, so as 
 to contemplate its minutest parts, and keep it steadily 
 in his eye, so as to copy these parts in order, this I 
 found impracticable for me, nor were my spirits equal 
 to so severe an employment. Here lay my greatest 
 calamity. I had no hopes of delivering my opinions 
 with such elegance and neatness, as to draw to me 
 the attention of the world, and I would rather live 
 and die in obscurity than produce them maimed and 
 imperfect. 
 
 " Such a miserable disappointment T scarce ever 
 remember to have heard of. The small distance 
 betwixt me and perfect health makes me the more 
 uneasy in my present situation. It is a weakness 
 rather than a lowness of spirits which troubles me, 
 and there seems to be as great a difference betwixt 
 my distemper and common vapours, as betwixt vapours 
 and madness. I have noticed in the writings of the 
 French mystics, and in those of our fanatics here, 
 that when they give a history of the situation of their 
 souls, they mention a coldness and desertion of the 
 spirit, which frequently returns ; and some of them, at 
 the beginning, have been tormented with it many 
 years. As this kind of devotion depends entirely on 
 sthc force of passion, and consequently of the animal 
 pints, I nave often thought that their case and mine
 
 .r.r. -a. 
 
 LETTKH TO A PHYSICIAN. 
 
 were pretty jarallel. and that their rapturous admira- 
 t ions iniuht discompose the fabric of the nerves ami 
 brain, as inueh as profound reflections, and that warmth 
 or enthusiasm which is inseparable from them. 
 
 'However this may he, I have not come out of 
 the cloud so well as they commonly tell ns they 
 have ilone, or rather hoenn to despair of ever recover- 
 ing. To keep myself from heimr melancholy on so 
 dismal a prospect, my only security was in peevish 
 reflections on the vanity of the world and of all 
 human udory : which, however just sentiments they 
 may he esteemed. I have found can never he sincere. 
 except in those who are possessed of them. Heine- 
 sensible that all my philosophy would never make me 
 contented in my present situation. I be^an to rouse 
 up myself; and beiiiLi" encouraged by instances of 
 recovery from worse decrees of this distemper, as 
 \\t 11 :i- by the assurances of my physicians. I beu'an 
 to think of somethiuLT more effectual than 1 had 
 hitherto tried. 1 found, that as there are' two things 
 very bad for this distemper, study and idleness, so 
 there are two things very eood, business and diversion; 
 and that my whole time was spent betwixt the had, 
 with little or no share of the i;ood. I-'or thi- reason 
 I resolved to seek out a more active life, and though 
 I could not <|uit my pretensions in learning but with 
 in\ last breath, to lay them aside t'or some time, in 
 order the more effectually to resume them. 1 pun 
 .animation. 1 found my choice confined to two kii 
 of lit'', that of a travelling Movernor. and that of a 
 merchant. The first, besides that it is in some 
 respect- an idle life, was, I found, unlit lor me; and 
 that because Ir-mi a -ed.uifnrv and retired way of 
 li\ inu, li'oiu a ba-'ul iil temper. :n;d from :i na rrow 
 
 ' une. i had hen little u< cu uiii -d to : n.-ru!
 
 S8 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 17-34. 
 
 companies, and Lad not confidence and knowledge 
 enough of the world to push my fortune, or to be 
 serviceable in that way. I therefore fixed my choice 
 upon a merchant ; and having got recommendation to 
 a considerable trader in Bristol, I am just now 
 hastening thither, with a resolution to forget myself, 
 and every thing that is past, to engage myself, as far 
 as is possible, in that course of life, and to toss about 
 the world, from the one pole to the other, till I leave 
 this distemper behind me. 
 
 "As I am come to London in my way to Bristol, I 
 have resolved, if possible, to get your advice, though 
 I should take this absurd method of procuring it. 
 All the physicians I have consulted, though very able, 
 could never enter into my distemper ; because not 
 being persons of great learning beyond their own 
 profession, they were unacquainted with these motions 
 of the mind. Your fame pointed you out as the 
 properest person to resolve my doubts, and I was 
 determined to have somebody's opinion, which I could 
 rest upon in all the varieties of fears and hopes, 
 incident to so lingering a distemper. I hope I have 
 been particular enough in describing the symptoms 
 to allow you to form a judgment ; or rather, perhaps, 
 I - ve been too particular. But yon know it is a 
 symptom of this distemper, to delight in complaining 
 and talking of itself. The questions I would humbly 
 propose to you are: Whether, among oil those 
 scholars you have been acquainted with, you have 
 ever known any affected in this manner? Whether 
 T can ever hope for a recovery? Whether I must 
 long wait for it? Whether my recovery will ever be 
 perfect, and my spirits regain their former spring and 
 vigour, ho as to endure the fatigue of deep and 
 abstruse thinking ? Whether 1 have taken a right
 
 -Er. l\1. LETTER TO A PHYSICIAN CONSIDERED. ^0 
 
 way to recover' I belic.e all j>ro])er medicines have 
 b ''!) used, and t lien -fore 1 need mention nothing of 
 
 them." 
 
 The history of this eventful period in the mental 
 biography of 1 1 uiih *. is verv brietlv narrated in his 
 "own life." Alluding to his adoption of the life of 
 a .-' ; :d in. he says, ".My very slender fortune, how- 
 e\ 'r. hfiii^ unsuitable to this plan of life, and my 
 health bein^ a little hroken l>y my ardent application, 
 1 wa> tt mpti'd. or rather forced, to make' a very feeble 
 trial for entering into a more active scene of lift . In 
 li'M. I went to Bristol, with some recommendations 
 to eminent merchants, but in a few months found that 
 scene totally unsuitable to me." 
 
 1 am sure- the reader will sympathize with me in 
 e-'ecniuiM- it a hi-i'li privilege to be the humble instru- 
 ment of ushering into the world so curious a pi< ce oi 
 literary autobiography as that which he has just 
 pi-ru-ed. W e are here admit ted into the confessional. 
 So secret is the communication of thought by the 
 writ'r to ti:e receiver, that the Lit* r. \% i : < 
 ;: juaino'd with so amah ui the inti rnal i:i edit a; \<>a* 
 of tl former, was not to be allowed to know with 
 it wa '"d man t his mind of w he -a he obtume [ a 
 w a- coniieet i d. i .. - ' I \ idua I n i.I . ;<s 
 . '.- i i : ! < ' i i a i . . d : \ . ! i a . 1 1 . a !i 
 
 i : w :i - ! o it pr. 's< a - . ! a i>. < 
 
 I : ; ' i a a 1 1 1 .'Mini 
 
 iii'ii !': - 
 
 . 
 
 narrative. lie hit L. al 
 
 i ;i _ r u- 
 
 i 
 
 i
 
 40 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1784. 
 
 acceptation of the term, by the person lie addressed, 
 would be a restraint on the freedom of his revelations 
 - he threw off this restraint, and we are entitled to 
 infer that his letter is a piece of full and candid self- 
 examination. Every word of it, as it was originally 
 written, is here printed, and it will perhaps be 
 admitted that there is not one word of it that does 
 not do honour to its writer. To Aristotle and others 
 it is attributed that they taught esoteric doctrines to 
 a chosen few doctrines not to be promulgated to the 
 world at large, because they were likely to have a 
 dangerous influence on minds not skilfully trained 
 for their reception. For any vestiges of these hidden 
 doctrines the world searches, anticipating that in them 
 will be found a nearer approach to that Avhich the 
 philosopher believed in his own mind, as distinct from 
 that which he desired to inculcate on others. In all 
 ages there has been a natural and a praiseworthy 
 curiosity to know the hidden thoughts of great 
 teachers. Mankind in general admit, that truth is what 
 is valuable in all philosophy, and if a man entertained 
 thoughts in his own mind in any way different from 
 those which he taught, it has been a conclusion 
 certainly quite legitimate, that truth is more likely 
 to be found in the former than in the latter. But 
 certainly there can hardly be found any other instance 
 in which a document, so likely to be the honest impress 
 of a philosopher's own mind, has been laid before the 
 world ; and it is an attestation of the sincerity with 
 which the opinions then in the course of formation in 
 his mind vvere believed. 
 
 But, independently of the philosophical value of the 
 document, to be thus admitted into the secrecy of the 
 thoughts of a man ambitious of high literary distinc- 
 tion, and who has attained his object, is a rare privi- 
 lege. The revelation, notwithstanding its foreboding
 
 -I'.r. ::. LETTER TO A PHYSICIAN CONSIDERED. .\\ 
 
 tone, is calculated to e-Jve far more pleasure than 
 pain. Tli" future, which .seemed to the desponding 
 philosopher for a moment so dark, we know to have 
 brightened on him. Hume was of the happy few 
 who lived to 'e their airy castles substantially 
 realized. Comparing what it reveals of the inner man, 
 with the subsequent history of his achievements, the 
 picture supplied by this fragment of autobiography is 
 a liappy one. We sympathize wit li the aspiring dreams 
 of the younii" man. without feeling that they were 
 afterwards doomed to disappointment. The imme- 
 diate occasion of his earnest appeal is undoubtedly 
 one of despondency; but it was preceded by hope, as 
 we know it was followed by success : and notwith- 
 standing this passing cloud, it may fairly be pro- 
 nounced, that though Hume enjoyed through life more 
 than the average portion of human happiness, he had 
 no moments of purer felicity than those in which, 
 in the retirement of his paternal home, he was 
 sketching the airy outline of his subsequent career. 
 
 IVrhaps the feature that will most forcibly strike the 
 reader, i.s the evidence of the deep-rooted ambition to 
 found ;i philosophical reputation, that seems to have 
 tilled the mind of the writer of this document. The 
 consciousness that the receiver of the paper must at 
 once perceive this circumstance, and the desire not to 
 let ;i stranger penetrate his aspiring thoughts, must 
 have been the reasons of his desire for secrecy : it was 
 natural that one who had not entered the lists to 
 st rueeh' for literary distinction, should wish to conceal 
 how >tronuaudine\tin'j:ui-hable was hi- desire to obtain 
 the prize. The intensity of his an\icty on this sub- 
 ject seems to have made him. in relation to his mind, 
 what the ordinary hypochondriac is as to his physical 
 constitution. The desire to preserve the elements of
 
 42 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 distinction was so intense, that it disturbed him with 
 vain fears for their disappearance. Feeling within 
 him, at times, the consciousness of possessing an ori- 
 ginal genius, that it should depart from him, and 
 that his lot should be cast among that of ordinary 
 mortals, with good physical health and commonplace 
 abilities, appeared to him the most awful calamity 
 which fate could have in store for him. Of the 
 excellent physical health which accompanied these 
 unpleasant variations of his mental capacity, he 
 speaks with an almost sardonic scorn, as one who, in 
 the bitterness of being: bereft of what is all in all to 
 him, talks of some paltry trifle which fortune in her 
 sarcastic malice has chosen to leave untouched. In 
 short, the manner in which he speaks of the departure 
 of his cunning, must almost necessarily convey to the 
 reader a considerable portion of that ludicrous cha- 
 racter which is always presented by a scene in which 
 a man appears to be dreadfully anxious about the 
 safety of that which either is of no importance, or is 
 not in danger. 
 
 It may he a question whether this strange letter 
 was ever sent to its destination, as the version from 
 which it is here printed is not a rough draught, but a 
 neatly written copy, such as might have been prepared 
 for transmission. Bat this does not ah'ord so .'nil a 
 presumption in Hume's ease, as it would in that of 
 the average of literary men, as lie sc ms to have alt 
 a sort of enjoyment in his earlier years in having his 
 papers neatly written out. The first name that 
 suggested itself as that of the person to whom the 
 paper was addressed was Arbuthnot, whose fine 
 genius was just tuen flickering in the seeker. Hut 
 a more full consideration showed to my satisfaction 
 that it must have been destined for Dr. George Cheyne,
 
 /T.r. 21. CIIKYM'/S I'.NCI.ISII MALADY 
 
 43 
 
 and that it was sue^ested by that eminent physician's 
 publication, in the jn*cetlimx year, of "The Kurdish 
 Malady; or, a Treatise of Nervous Diseases of all 
 kinds, as Spleen, Vapours, Lowness of Spirit-, Hypo- 
 chondriacal Distempers. \.c." There is a certain 
 unison of tone hetweeu Humes letter ami this hook, 
 that, added to other coincidences, strongly impresses 
 on tie 1 miml their connexion with each other; ami 
 though it is perhaps necessary, before this is fully seen, 
 to enter into the whole tenor ami tone of C'heyne'.s 
 hook, the reader will perhaps find the following passage 
 sultieient to render the conjecture prohahle : 
 
 "It is a common observation, (and 1 think has ufreat 
 probability on its side.) that fools, weak or stupid 
 persons, heavy and dull souls, are seldom much 
 troubled with vapours or lowness of spirits. The 
 intellectual faculty, without all manner of doubt, has 
 material and animal organs, by which it mediately 
 works, as well as the animal functions. W hat they are, 
 and how they operate, as I believe very few know, so 
 it is very little necssary to know them for my present 
 purpose. As a philosophical musician may understand 
 proportions and harmony, and yet m ver be in a con- 
 dition to gratify a company wit li a iiii" pa ee of 
 iiei-fic, without the beneiit of <oamls from prober 
 or_aiH, so the intellectual "perat;on> c:< hum' as the 
 j i' sen' union between -eul and bod.' l:i-t-) ear. never 
 i ] ei : triiied In [he b ,-t manner .\ i" hoiit pi 'oper in- 
 
 i -. I : .' V, ti'L s i.f !':;;_: 'it i"U ;; : , 1: II ol'V. 
 
 ot .st adv. i :.i: k aim a _. !Vi mi v hut i ce 
 
 the p. ineiple on w L lt-ii t hev depi ml -; 1 i; -. n 
 necessarily require bodily organs. Some ha\e these 
 organs liner, ipr.ck ---v. more a-jib*, and .- - n - 1 i d . and 
 perhaps more numerous than others; brute animals 
 have few or none, at 1 a-', none that belong t< v< floe-
 
 41 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 tion ; vegetables certainly none at all. There is no 
 account to be given how a disease, a fall, a blow, a 
 debauch, poisons, violent passions, astral and aerial 
 influences, much application, and the like, should 
 possibly alter or destroy these intellectual operations 
 without this supposition. It is evident, that in 
 nervous distempers, and a great many other bodily 
 diseases, these faculties and their operations are im- 
 paired, nay, totally ruined and extinguished to all 
 appearance; and yet, by proper remedies, and after 
 recovery of health, they are restored and brought to 
 their former state. Now, since this present age has 
 made efforts to go beyond former times, in all the arts 
 of ingenuity, invention, study, learning, and all the 
 contemplative and sedentary professions, (I speak only 
 here of our own nation, our own times, and of the 
 better sort, whose chief employments and studies these 
 are,) the organs of these faculties being thereby worn 
 and spoiled, must affect and deaden the whole system, 
 and lay a foundation for the diseases of lowness and 
 weakness. Add to this, that those who are likeliest 
 to excel and apply in this maimer, are most capable 
 and most in hazard of following that way of life which 
 I have mentioned, as the likeliest to produce these 
 diseases. Great wits are generally great epicures, at 
 least, men of taste. And the bodies and constitutions 
 of one generation arc still more corrupt, infirm, and 
 diseased, than those of the former, as they advance in 
 time and the use of the causes assigned." 
 
 Then there are the farther coincidences, that Cheyne 
 was a Scotsman, that he was an eminent man in his 
 profession, and that he had bestowed some attention 
 on mental philosophy. "I passed my youth," he tells 
 us, k ' in close study, and almost constant application 
 to the abstracted sciences, wherein my chief pleasure
 
 ciiev.vk's i;m.;lisii malady 
 
 t.-. 
 
 consisted." " Ilavini:," ho elsewhere says, ''had a 
 liberal education, with the instruction and example of 
 pious parents, (who at first had designed mo for the 
 church.) I had preserved a firm persuasion of the 
 p;reat and fundamental principles of all virtue and 
 morality : viz. the existence of a supreme and infinitely 
 perfect I'lfinu', the freedom of the will, the immortality 
 of the .spirits of all intellectual beings, and the cer- 
 tainty of future rewards or punishments. These 
 doctrines 1 had examined carefully, and had been 
 continued in, from abstracted reasonings, as well 
 as from the best natural philosophy, and some clearer 
 knowledge of the material system of the world in 
 general, and the wisdom, fitness, and beautiful contri- 
 vance of particular things animated and inanimated ; so 
 that the truth and necessity of these principles was so 
 riveted in me, (which may he seen by the first edition 
 of my " Philosophical Principles," publUhed some 
 years before that happened, 1 ) as never after to be 
 fdinkeii in all my wanderings and follies.'"" It may 
 
 ! 1*1, :! j .hi.-al IVinriplr- nf Natural lirli-i.-n. I ?0.~,. sv... 
 Tin' I'.uj-li-h M :iI:o I v. p. :::;n-:;:: 1 . 1 l;;iM' run inv r\v u\rr 
 ('! yim' Natural .M.'tlm.li.f Curin- I )i-ra-r- .,f tin l'...ly ami 
 M iml." I 7 I '_', Svii. tin- niil v v.'i ,rk I am ;ih;iiv nl In lia\ n:_r puli- 
 li-ln'.l -i,l. -i'.|ii.-ntly t' tin- .late nf 1 1 nun-"- 1. tti-r. I>ut I h;i\ - f.iun.l 
 in n i.f a ivfiTciHv tu 1 1 iimr'> ca-i'. ( 'ln-\ iii''- w ,,:k- aiv 
 
 |..-rl ap ln'tti-r kii'.uu t<i tin' pul.lir in _. mial. than anv mr.hral 
 I'" >k- i.f t!ic -alii.' | rri.,,1, aid tln'ir cur:. .'.; .li-rur -i\ . cuitnit- 
 ; ay ; . r,i al. Tin ir - uniiv i ,,f ,-, nr-r !,.!, 1 |,, !.. c mi 
 il.'d. Imt tin' iiiiM-i, utitic na.l.'i- rami,.; ! rip 
 -I c iim-rl in hi- a I 
 imilit v w mIi w hirh it i u: : , 1. II: 
 , ,,,,. :, . : 
 
 i , ili'par'nirut nf l,i- i, ; . lira! .,1.-.t\ | |,. 
 
 ilr-cril'i'- r\ ri'V t!;;u_' w c!i a -r: >( \ :!.! pi. i;rr, i ' t.-iy niniv 
 plra-uij- t.i an -r ; irv n iTt tlian r ut i:!r pr. ri ;.,n ; ami 
 i ,!.';.-:.. - Willi w l.mli I. r ipp. ai ' I i. 1 .'.''. i . 
 car. :,-- fn the in. -t \ :!'.' rl.anj.',- ..,( rr_ r nnrn, inclinr- dm r>
 
 4G THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 be mentioned also, as a circumstance likely to bring 
 Cheyne's work early under Hume's observation, that 
 it contains a long statement of the case of Dr. William 
 
 think that he had applied towards it the fiat eccperimentum in 
 compare vili. lie tells us that he was disposed to "corpulence by 
 the whole race of one side" of his family. In the quotation given 
 above, he represents himself as having been studious in his youth- 
 lie began to practise his profession in London, of which he says 
 " The number of fires, sulphurous and bituminous; the vast expense 
 of tallow and betid oil in candles and lamps, under and above 
 ground ; the clouds of stinking breaths and perspiration, not to 
 mention the ordure of so many diseased, both intelligent and un- 
 intelligent animals ; the crowded churches, churchyards, and bury- 
 ing places, with putrifying bodies, the sinks, butcher houses, stables, 
 dunghills, and the necessary stagnation, fermentation, and mixture 
 of all variety of all kinds of atoms, are more than sufficient to 
 putrify, poison, and infect the air, for twenty miles round it." 
 Having come from the fresh air of the country into so hopeful an 
 atmosphere, he seems to have resolved that his habit of living 
 should be an equally great contrast to his previous studious absti- 
 nence. " Upon my coming to London, I all of a sudden changed 
 my whole manner of living. I found the bottle-companions, the 
 younger gcntiy, and free-livers, to bo the most easy of access, and 
 most quickly susceptible of friendship aud acquaintance, nothing 
 being necessary for that purpose but to be able to eat lustily, and 
 swallow down much liquor ; and being naturally of a large size, a 
 cheerful temper, and tolerable lively imagination ; and having, in my 
 country retirement, laid in store of ideas and facts, by these quali- 
 fications I soon became caressed by them, and grew daily in bulk, 
 and in friendship with these gay gentlemen and their acquaintances. 
 I was tempted to continue this course, no doubt, from a liking, as 
 well as to force a trade, which method 1 hud observed to succeed 
 with some others : and thus constantly dining and supping in taverns, 
 and in the houses of my acquaintances of taste a-id delicacy, my 
 health was in a l\'\v years brought into great distress, by so sudden 
 and violent a change. I grew excessively fat, short-breathed, 
 lethargic, and listless." 
 
 The consequences were c ' a, constant, violent headach, giddiness, 
 lowness, anxiety, and terror," and he went about "like a male- 
 factor condemned, or one who expected every moment to he crushed 
 by a ponderous instrument of death hanging over his head." These
 
 .1.1 
 
 CIIKYNE'S ENGLISH .MALADY. 
 
 47 
 
 Crmstoun. tin eminent niedienl m:m then residing ut 
 JiMllniru'li, 111 the s:i mo ilistriet of eountrv with Niue- 
 wclls. 
 
 e\ .1 -vinptnm- ] nun pled l.im In ahamlen supper- and n-trict hini-olf 
 to ;i .-mall 'pianti'v nf animal (< d :t l : I nf fermented 1 i j n > r - . I!'! 
 Vcr\ I I tl it nil till- ah nipt rii-i :._- :iil III- " l"iUncill_-, 
 
 pr. iti'-t j i : lt- and i : 1 1 . 1 . 1 1 .- 1 K i 1 1 _ r < - > 1 1 1 1 ; 1 1 1 i i > t : - * ' fnr.-onk him. : i n - i ""< 1 1 >[<]>*. L 
 nil I ke autumnal haves," lea\inir hnn tn veio'tate in temperate 
 
 !:. a rim --. w hde thrv " retired tn comfort thetn-elves with a cheer- 
 up Hi'," -" that he pathetically tell.- us, " I was fi. recti tn retire 
 
 tin- emtiitrv tjiiitc alone, I t i n ir rcilueeil to the -late nf ( 'animal 
 W'nl-.y, when 1 e -ml, that if he IkhI -erved his Maker as faithfully 
 ami warmlv a- he hail hi- prince, ht: would not have forsaken him 
 in i hat extivinil v." 
 
 It wmilil lie dillicult to follow out the niuhit minimis cour-e of 
 relllodle- ho ailnptfil, enlllllli'lieiliLr with "" Volatile.-, foetid-, hitters, 
 chak heat-, ami mineral water-." :ml lmw In- tn>k twenty irrains 
 nf ' w hat i- eal !eil tin- prince'- powder." ami '" hail certainly peri-hed 
 
 ' ....!, . , : i . i ! i i , ia : ;:a a 1 1 :' it." 
 ha\i:;_r ihu- f\porii i<-thin_' I i h the L'nn.l fortune of t ho 
 man nf 'I'!..- a!v who leaped into a tpiick-et hetl-e. I'mli'i' the-t) 
 i n- i nice- he felt hi- lmi lv " ineltiiiL: aw av like a -now -hall in 
 
 iter." Ila\in tried the I'ath water-, he appear- to ha\e 
 ew hat re\ i\ eil, whereupon l>v inerea-in.: hi.- tpuuit it v of " ani- 
 mal t 1 a tcl -troiiir liipit.r-," he w a- "heated -n." ihat he " a pp re- 
 la ti'leil a hectic." Ili- i:e\t cham:e wa- t t ;: n :, i v.l.ieh 
 
 C\ pell |> |i || ! he wa- Co 1 1 tl I'll It'll i'V a \ i-it to | >! . 'I'll vli'I" of ( V"\ i I'U I, 
 
 i: :, ' le. w h'tiii he >'< > 1 1 1 1 I " at linine. a t !. ; full ipiart !' c-v. '- 
 
 milk, which wa- ail In- dinner." lie found in cnn-eipieuee of tl.s 
 
 cliaiiL'e. that he '" increa-ed in .-pint-, -tn n_th. appetite and _ r aietv." 
 
 I, the I'hl Ailam -tru_'_diui: within him. he he_'an to limi a 
 
 ml in-utlerahlc lnii::in- f..r nmre -olid and toothsome f ml, 
 
 ! her and -troimer liipinr-." Hereupon we |,a\o 
 
 n i re _ '" en 'ii- in hi- diet, hiit -till, a- he ciii'u! it, -'!" r. 
 
 and phi in." in mi far a- he " diank iml alm\ e a .p. a: t r 
 
 in- an v i la v." I 'inh-r ll n ii . I i\ . 
 
 " ! ' i -,'-|l ill! rl|. II i', t li.il 
 
 I e\ c, ie i thirty " .. '::.." Tin u can U ' sarimi- k 
 
 ami a ilieai' | m] I ; : . : . : . ' ' :v 
 
 d i e t .- v - 1 em . a i 1 1 ' i a u - ' . i 1 i - t ! 
 
 in: . 1 fe.-nl\ ''! to chat ' | n f port at dinner, in t the
 
 48 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 1734 1739. JEt. 23 27. 
 
 Hume leaves Bristol for France Paris Miracles at the Tomb of the Abbe 
 Paris Rheims La Fleche Associations with the Abbe Pluche and 
 Des Cartes Observations on French Society and Manners Story of 
 La Roche Return to Britain. Correspondence with Henry Home 
 Publication of the first and second volume of The Treatise of Human 
 Nature Character of that Work Its Influence on mental Philosophy. 
 
 We have no account of Hume's sojourn in Bristol, 
 except his own very brief statement, that " in a few 
 months," he " found that scene totally unsuitable" to 
 him. 1 He must have proceeded to France about 
 the middle of the year 1734, and he thus describes in 
 his " own life," his motives and intentions. " I went 
 over to France, with a view of prosecuting my studies 
 in a country retreat ; and I there laid that plan of 
 life, which I have steadily and successfully pursued. 
 I resolved to make a very rigid frugality supply my 
 
 .same quantity of Florence. I ate, at the same time, a good deal of 
 more butter with my vegetables, and plenty of old rich cheese ; 
 and likewise nuts extremely I procured from abroad and at home, 
 great pleutyofall kinds, as filberts, walnuts, chestnuts, almonds, 
 &c, eating them in great quantities after dinner by way of dessert," 
 but in pity to the digestive sympathies of the reader this subject 
 must be dropped. Dr. Chcyne is not the martyr, but the hero of 
 dyspepsia, and Mrs. Radcliffe could not have drawn him through a 
 longer scries of horrors than his inventive genius seems to have 
 created for himself. 
 
 1 A literary friend suggests that Hume has a quiet allusion to 
 the intellectual faculties of the people of Bristol, in the description 
 of James Naylor's attempts to personify our Saviour, where it is 
 s-id, " he entered Bristol mounted on a horse I suppose from the 
 difficulty in that place of finding an ass." Retrospect of manners 
 &c, at the end of the History of the Commonwealth.
 
 visi r i . j l'AUis. 
 
 VJ 
 
 deficiency of fortune, to inn intain unimpaired inv in- 
 dependency, and io regard I'vcrv ohjoct as eon- 
 ptihha except tii ' impro\ an lit of m \ talents hi 
 ];'."i"!' lire. ' 
 
 His >u1s"fjUi'iit I"'* TS dloW tli:il le' proceeded in 
 tii' 1 tir-t in-- anee to I'an-. where lie remain '! tor a 
 slee Net lone; lirfure li i s ;t ni \ :i i lh"l'e. -oine 
 
 oeeu - had taken place winch were afterwards 
 
 prominent \y referred to in his philo-ophical wiitinj^. 
 A dan-eni-t. dist in n 'ii is! led I y his -a net it v and the wide 
 circle of his charities the Ahhe I'aris, having died, a 
 ton.o was ei'i 't"d over his remains in the cMneterv of 
 S* . ."' ! : -'are. Tin i In a' the pom 1 , whom ; i < n'oud man iiad 
 
 Sr.CCollV",] |]| ],,',-. ;( |>;iil'ed to t ! i - .- !;;,- nil mory and ]'1"IV 
 
 of hi- <onl. i en it W as discoyei ed t ha! ; id s 
 
 ' ion was ,-peedily r 'Warded: fur 1 he ,-iek w ei " cure.!. 
 
 Ha- 1 1 i j 1 1 , 1 -a. w. all maimer of minnle- y, ere performed : 
 
 of ' eir nenni a am-.- w a- com-hmiyd 
 
 -o - , - t he d e.-lii! - \\ ere lie er aide to 
 
 them an in-tance which it inie,hi he well 
 
 for e\ a'\ one to recall to mind who i- t<dd of 
 
 aonieiia out of t he 1 ordina r\' ronr-e of mi! n i 
 
 d 1 1 V 1 he te-| iliioliv of lV-pi r ;.': and 
 
 enli'^iif ened people. A ! h'n -a \\ . t h i - -e r ie - o f n i i ra eh'.-, 
 hecame oil'on-ive to the n'ovrnnieiit - t here \v;i> no 
 . far t lie ina! ! er miajit proceed. 1 ' w:e 
 iv-ol\>-d tiiat there >iiouhl he no nore n iracie- i.er- 
 I at 1 he tundi of tie' \ oh ' I 'aid- : the , , . ,-,,,," 
 t l. ' ' ' eio-.i>d. a a I ' a a; ' , d a c - - 1 1 i a. 
 
 er;. lie- occurred in ! r I 7."'L\ 
 
 i v. o \ i i r- i>e|. u"e 1 1 a me- \ i -p ; ;o:d it v 
 he ima juiiei 1 that t ia' reference... to t :;.-. w . ana a'ful 
 even l > which he \\ ii', I i i. ar ia c< >a\ i r,-a ' a an .-anne-ted 
 manv t radii- of t hm;.: at I o t a voune.' phdo-oplmr. I ; 
 wa- not huia' afterward-, and prehaldy while ail tins 
 \ hi., i. a
 
 
 
 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 was very fresh in his memory, that the principal theory 
 of his Essay on Miracles was suggested to him. In 
 that Essay he says : 
 
 " Many of the miracles of Abbe Paris were proved 
 immediately by witnesses before the officially or 
 bishop's court at Paris, under the eye of Cardinal 
 Noailles, whose character for integrity and capacity 
 was never contested even by his enemies. 
 
 " His successor in the archbishopric was an enemy 
 to the Jansenists, and for that reason promoted to the 
 see by the court. Yet twenty-two rectors or cures 
 of Paris, with infinite earnestness, press him to 
 examine those miracles, which they assert to be 
 known to the whole world, and indisputably certain. 
 But he wisely forbore." 
 
 And farther on : 
 
 " No less a man than the Due de Chatillon, a duke 
 and peer of France, of the highest rank and family, 
 gives evidence of a miraculous cure, performed upon 
 a servant of his, who had lived several years in his 
 house with a visible and palpable infirmity. 
 
 "I shall conclude with observing, that no clergy 
 are more celebrated for strictness of life and manners 
 than the secular clergy of France, particularly the 
 rectors or cures of Paris, who bear testimony to these 
 impostures." 
 
 An illustration of his notice of what was passing 
 around him in Paris, occurs in the following passage 
 in his " Natural History of Religion." 
 
 " I lodged once at Paris in the same hotel with an 
 ambassador from Tunis, who, having passed some 
 years at London, was returning home that way. One 
 day ! observed his Moorish excellency diverting him- 
 self under the porch, with surveying the splendid 
 equipages that drove along; when there chanced to
 
 '' -" UE.SiDI.M i: A 1 UIIKI.MS. ; i 
 
 pass that way some Capucin friars, who had never 
 scon a Turk, as lie. on hi- part, t In niuh accustomed to 
 the luiropcun dres-os, had never seen the Lfrotesipie 
 Ii_i'iire of a Capucin: and there i- no expressing the 
 mutual admiration with which timv inspired ea(di 
 1 ' -r. I lad th elm jdain of the -mla--v en Ted into 
 -;:' with these 1- Vnneiseans, their reeipi oeal 
 pri- i :i i h 'iu) of the same nature. Tims all man- 
 kind stand staring at one another; and there is no 
 ''!; it into their heads, that the turlcm of the 
 African is not just as u'ood or as had a fashion as the 
 cowl of the i'uropran. 'lie 1 is a very honest man.' 
 .-.iid the I'rince of Sallec, speaking of I >e Kuytcr: " i f 
 i- a pi<"y he were a Christian." " 
 
 After leaving I'aris. he resided ;' Ivhoims in the 
 province of Champagne. alout eighty mih'S north- 
 east of the metropolis. Thence he addressed to his 
 lii ud Michael Kani-ay the following letter, fail of 
 el-- . \ ation and thought. 
 
 1 1 (\;e /'/ M k iiAia. Uams u . 
 
 /,'/ ;. ,s 
 
 :). 
 
 ' M v I )i: m; Mh 'ilAi'.i.. i sup] iosc you have he 
 
 t'AO letters iVoUl 111'', dated .'it I'ur'lS, 111 Olio of which 
 
 enoh)sod :i h-tti r to my Lord Stair. I am now 
 
 arri\"d at Ulieiui.-, which i- to ho ti. jdaci oi' my 
 
 n I f,,r -onie considerable time, and where ! 1 
 
 ; > -'id my t ime happih for the pr - ',' . id 
 i -' .-k f.M- ;i,.' future. It i- :, !aro.' (>'.mi. 
 
 I I'M ui , 
 
 i 1 1 i I ; h i r' v t : 1 1 1 1 ; 1 1 o s t ! i . ' . . 
 
 1 \ -e .i 
 
 i!iriv \\;,> lai.'. 1 ;il c ' .! . . !"d t Wo of t \\< 
 
 he-t families in tow n. and . rlv to a man. who
 
 59 Till] LIFE OF DAVID HUME. J 734. 
 
 they say is one of the most learned in France. 1 lie is 
 just now in the country, so that I have not yet seen 
 him ; though, if I had seen him, it would be some time 
 
 ' It is not improbable that the person here alluded to Is the 
 Abbe Plucbe, a native of Rheiras, the greatest literary ornament of 
 that city, and one who fined no small place in the lettered aristo- 
 cracy of France, where he held in many respects the position which 
 Paley occupied in England. He filled successively the chairs of 
 Humanity and Rhetoric, in the University of Rheixns. His pro- 
 motion in the Church was checked by his partiality for Jansenism. 
 He had the rare merit of uniting to a firm belief in the great faiths 
 of Christianity a wide and full toleration for the conscientious 
 opinions of others ; and he enjoyed, what is no less rarely possessed 
 by those who me Idle in theological disputes, the good opinion of 
 his opponents. He was a great scholar, and wrote some works on 
 etymological and archaeological subjects ; but he is chiefly known 
 for his writings on natural theology, celebrated for their clear ami 
 animated enunciation of the harmonies of nature, and not only 
 popular in their own couutry, bin translated into most of the 
 European languages. His " Spectacle de hi Nature," written in a 
 series of dialogues, was sketched while he acted as instructor to the 
 son of Lord Stafford ; and the master and pupil, with the father and 
 mother of the latter, are the interlocutors. One id' its main objects 
 is, by tracing effects in the operations of nature to their cause-, to 
 prove and illustrate the beneficence and wisdom of tin 1 Doty. This 
 work has been a treasure to many an Kngiish schoolboy, in its 
 v-eii-known translation, with the title, "Nature Displayed." An 
 answer by Pluche to sonic a>f/rits forts, who wondered why a 
 !i:>i!i sophor could believe so much, has been preserved by his con- 
 temporaries : ' ; It is nio re reasonable," he said., "to believe in the 
 dictate- of the Supreme Being than to follow the feeble lights of a 
 reason boumli d in its operations and subject to error.'" 
 
 It must be granted that what Hume calls the association of 
 contrariety has in some measure caused the- digression, and that 
 the Abbe Pluche would not have been so amply discussed as the 
 p i.s.sible learned man thai Hume had an introduction to. had there 
 not been so much that is common in the subjects treated oi by both, 
 and -o much that is contrasted in the mode of treatment. I'luohe 
 was ;:n opponent of I )es Cartes, ami thus a name far greater than 
 hi -. and as many v ill hold greater than Hume'-, j - introduced into 
 the circle ol ihe-e, Ural associations.
 
 kksii>::nck at unr.ius. 
 
 before i could contract a friendship witli liiin, not beinij 
 \"t-t >uilicii'iit master of 1 1 n I;i ii-_; 'i:ii_i'* to support a eon- 
 \ersat ion : which is a :_t -at v-\:iti n to in>', but which 
 1 hup., in a short tinm to e^ot nwr, A- I have little 
 nmiv than this to .a\ abou' business, I -hall n-i' the 
 freedom In entertain \oii \\i;h any i < i 1 thoughts that 
 (inn 1 into my lead, hoping at least you will cxci 
 them, it' n >\ be pleased with them, bcc;iusi.' they coum 
 !'i on; an absent friend. 
 
 \\ hen i parted t'roin 1'aris. the ( hevalier Uanisay 
 .;i\ e me as h is ad \ ice. to ob< TV' carefully, an 1 imitate 
 a> much as possible, the manners of the French. For, 
 says he. though the Fnu'li-di. perhaps;. Iiave more of the 
 real politeness of the heart. vet i m> 1 -'re uc'n certainly 
 have the bett t way of . '\pressin'j; it. This -:;'" ' le 
 isjon to rell (! upon the matter, and in my huinbl ; 
 opinion it is _ 1 1 1 - t the contrarv: vi/.. that tie French 
 
 i"e more r -a 1 polit < 1 1 -:. and tie' Fne.lidi the !> r 
 iiod <<\' \ pn - - i 1 1 ^- it . 1 !y real > >liteness I mean 
 
 tnes> of tempi i'. and a sincere inclination to oblige' 
 and be servic able, which is very conspicuous in 'his 
 nation, not only anion.;' th" hieji but he,\ ; in so much 
 
 ' the j ortel'S and coaehllieil here ;; !'e civil, and 
 
 th it. no; only to evnt lonmn, but likewise anion.;' 'lmm- 
 S'dves : so thai 1 1 a\ no| yet s"en one oaarpd iu 
 1'raiice, though the\ are e\er\' wh -re to be m c with 
 
 I > V til" e\ Or 's-.;, >]| ; , . , 
 
 
 poll- 
 
 -rk. Mr 
 
 ,.11 ' < 111 Hi 4i \'. u.
 
 54 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1734. 
 
 mean those outward deferences and ceremonies which 
 custom lias invented, to supply the defect of real 
 politeness or kindness, that is unavoidable towards 
 strangers, or indifferent persons, even in men of the 
 best dispositions in the world. These ceremonies 
 ought to be so contrived, as that, though they do not 
 deceive nor pass for sincere, yet still they please by 
 their appearance, and lead the mind by its own con- 
 sent and knowledge into an agreeable delusion. One 
 may err by running into either of the two extremes ; 
 that of makin.o - them too like truth or too remote from 
 
 O 
 
 it : though we may observe, that the first is scarce pos- 
 sible, because whenever any expression or action be- 
 comes customary, it can deceive nobody. Thus, when 
 the Quakers say, ' your friend,' they are as easily 
 understood, as another, that says, ' your humble 
 servant.' The French err in the contrary extreme, 
 that of making their civilities too remote from truth, 
 
 to one another. The ' Madame,' and ' Monsieur,' with which 
 stable boys, and old beggar women, used to address each other with 
 the deference of courtiers, has vanished. No trace of it is to be 
 found in France ; a shadow faintly exists among the Parisian shop- 
 keepers when speaking to their customers, but ouij^ there is the 
 traditional phraseology still used : The courteous accent, the soft 
 manner, or^i so charming, exists no longer. I -peak of a thing 
 known and acknowledged by the French themselves. 
 
 . . Their "hraseology, once so delicately and ever, to us more 
 straight!' ".people, amusingly deferential (no* 'o supei iors only, 
 
 but toward one another,) is become blunt, an 1 almost rude. The 
 French allege se\eral cause- for this change, which they date from 
 the Revolution of 1880: some say it arises from every citizen turn- 
 ing out as one of the national guard in his turn, so that they all get 
 a Ion da garnison : others attribute it to their imitation of the 
 English. Of course, in the times of the ancien reyime, the courtly 
 tone found an echo and reflexion, from the royal anti-chambers 
 down to the very ends of the kingdom. This has faded by degrees, 
 till the Revolution of 1830 gave it the covp-dr-yrace.' n
 
 !>!:.\'i I! AT Klil'.IM 
 
 which is a fault, thoirj.li tlmy arc not designed to In: 
 
 believed; just as it m a ' -sion of rules ia a 
 
 dramatic poet to mix an;- improbabilities with his 
 
 fable, though 'tis certain tha . ia th" representation, 
 
 the m"'jh's. li jliN. company, and a thou-and other eii- 
 
 - n il ; - : i i i 1 .1. li.' ran o\ <-v deceive. 
 
 " Another la ul t I liml in the l-'rench manner-, is that, 
 
 Ilk-' iij.-ir clothes ami furniture, tin i y ;i; v > t>o -harm.:. 
 
 \a I In doh lii,'' u'.'iit hmmn distill r ui-dm.s i in - if from 
 
 i I '1 i's! ol the \V(r 
 
 win >! ; ,; a <v o! i.i- con- 
 
 versation, more than !>v auv par', lmi'e r p;m: i<: it : .- 
 that thmiu'li vol an- seu-ible i; e\c-is. you a ' 
 at :i 1"-- to I'll ia what, ami haw no remarkable 
 vilitii'.s ami compliments to pitch on a - a proof of 
 hi- politeness. Ti; '' !.' so smooths oot. that they 
 pa-s for t ho common actions of life, ai; i nevi r [ > 1 1 1 you 
 to 1 tioiihl.' of roturninn" thanks for ilit'in. Tim Lnvl 
 j<li. '-ii- = is alwa\ l:"'- -:t ! --t where it a; p> ar> \ a>i. 
 
 " \ !>< a- ali, i' in u -t he fon fi <! t ha' t he lit t !c nif ot ms 
 i '.' i '; i behaviour, though troublesome ami i i i 1 1 - r- 
 
 n' . yi't servo to poli-h the ordinary 1 imi of j pie, 
 
 prevent rudeness ami brutality. lor in the same 
 niuinmr as sohliers are foiiml to become more cimrae,'e- 
 i is iii harnimj; to hold their muskets within half an 
 inch of a ]>lace appointed ; ami your devotees f. 1 
 their devotion ima'eas' by the observance ot' trivial 
 -eijierst it ions, as sprinklinc;. kimelimj'. cros-ine.'. k \c ; 
 men ia-mi-ihlv >oftou towards each other in the 
 " i f th'-- c Ten:' mi' -. The mind plea ; it -elf 
 
 b\ ti e ;e' M _, r ,_, jr |; ; ;,n,.< j|| -, 1 1 < * 1 1 trill' -. ami W 1 lb' it 
 -O !] ] nl'l 'd. Ill'lki - ail e;i-\' tl all -It a 'II to soum- 
 
 i-'l. An 1 1 1 v- , i i- for 
 
 I' ' ' I! ' .- ;. 
 
 or an ill-bred man ia i .:. 
 
 ><: :u Mi
 
 56 THE LIFE OF DAVID HEME. 17.34-1737. 
 
 " You may perhaps wonder that I, who have stayed 
 so short time in France, and who have confessed that I 
 am not master of their language, should decide so posi- 
 tively of their manner. But you will please to observe, 
 that it is with nations as with particular men, where 
 one trifle frequently serves more to discover the 
 character, than a whole train of considerable actions. 
 Thus, when I compare our English phrase of ' humble 
 servant, ' which likewise we omit upon the least 
 intimacy, with the French one of ' the honour of being 
 your most humble servant,' which they never forget, 
 this, compared with other circumstances, lets 
 me clearly see the different humours of the nations. 
 This phrase, of the honour of doing or saying such a 
 thing to vou, goes so far, that my washing-woman to- 
 day told me, that she hoped she would have the 
 honour of serving me while I staid at Rheims ; and 
 what is still more absurd, it is said by people to those 
 who are very much their inferiors. 
 
 " Before I conclude my letter, I must tell you that 
 I hope you will excuse my rudeness, if I use the 
 freedom (?)* to desire of you that, the next time you 
 do me the honour of writing to me, you will be so good 
 ps to sit down a day before the post goes away; for 
 I cannot help being afraid 'hat, in your haste, vou 
 have osaitt'-d irany t! lags, ..vhicdi e-tla rwisc I would 
 hare : id the !e a-., pi 1 re ' satisfaction of near;; fioni 
 yea. vV lie",, y-m vvc r:e g.-od as to condesci au to urire, 
 please io direct so: ; A. Monsieur Monsieur David 
 i'ane 1 , goutiihomme, Keo.-sois, cliez Monsieur Alcsior, 
 au ['croquet verd, pmche la porte au Ferron, tJieims.'" 2 
 
 I fume stales, in his "own life," that lie missed 
 
 1 Tliis word is nearly obliterated. The passage appears to be 
 ;i. Mirt of caricatured pompous politenesf. ? MS. R.S.R.
 
 .v.. -2r.--2<',. kksidkxi ;: at i.\ viva in:. :,; 
 
 'three years" very agreeably in France. We find 
 from a letter to Principal Campbell, 1 that two of these 
 years were spent at La Lh'rho. and that 1m- had some 
 communication with tip' members of the .Jesuits" 
 College there. lie says, "" It mav jierliaj>s amuse you 
 to learn the first hint, which suu'Liestetl to me that 
 argument which }oti have so strenuously attacked. 
 I was walking in the cloisters of the .Jesuits' College 
 of La l-'h'rhe. a town in which I passed two years of 
 my youth, and en^a^'ed in a conversation with a .Jesuit 
 <>f some parts and learning. who was r<datinu' to me, 
 and uru'inu' some nonsensical miracle performed lately 
 in their convent, when 1 was temoted to di-omte 
 him: and as my head was full of the topics 
 of my Treatise of Human Nature, which I was at 
 that tune composing, this argument immediately 
 oeeumd to me, and i thought it very much gravelled 
 companion; hut at last he observed to me. that 
 i' \''- impossible for that argument to have any 
 it o] erat i'il eijuallv :m;i in-t the 
 I iospel as the ('atholie mira<des; - which observation 
 1 thought proper to admit a- a sufficient au-wer. I 
 
 In li 'Ve Vol! W ill alloW. that I lie flV. ,|n]|] at I.'M-t of 
 
 this reason ine,' makes it somewhat extraordinary to 
 have hern the produce of a convent of Jesuits, 
 perhaps you may think the sophi-try of it 
 savours plainly of t he plaee oi' it > fin h." 
 
 san J e-ui: - ( '< I L : ; ef ! ,a i \< eh . \< familiar 
 
 - . -al ri-adei- ,i- t he >eiiiiiiar\ in u h ieh 
 
 1 - ' - w a- e ii rati d. The |.lae v. i , i ! i I 1 unm 
 
 .ha- bee]] > !! ],, be ; , - - , . rial, d V I 1| t lie 
 
 h and i' '' of a dist ii i oi.in .n-n' of 
 
 i ' i ' 
 
 Li-ii n\ in-, i'.; i :.
 
 5S THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1 734-1 ?37. 
 
 tlic Cartesian theory. We now find him perfecting 
 his work in that academic solitude, where Des Cartes 
 himself was educated, and where he formed his 
 theory of commencing with the doubt of previous 
 dogmatic opinions, and framing for himself a new 
 fabric of belief The coincidence is surely worth) 7 of 
 reflective association, and it is perhaps not the least 
 striking instance of Hume's unimaginative nature, 
 that in none of his works, printed or manuscript, do 
 we find an allusion to the circumstance, that while 
 framing his own theories, he trod the same pavement 
 that had upwards of a century earlier borne the 
 weight of one whose fame and influence on human 
 thought was so much of the same character as he 
 himself panted to attain. 
 
 It is to Hume's early sojourn in France that we 
 must assign the time and the scene of Mackenzie's 
 pleasant fiction, called the " Story of La Roche," 
 published in the Mirror of 1779. It is generally 
 admitted that the writer's materials were merely the 
 character and habits of the philosopher, and that 
 there was no groundwork for the narrative in any 
 incident that had actually occurred, liut the story 
 must be taken as the observations of an acute percep- 
 tion, and a finely adjusted taste, upon Hume's charac- 
 ter: and our reliance on the accuracy of the picture is 
 enhanced by the circumstance that Smith, deceived 
 by its air of reality, expressed his wonder that Hume 
 had never told him of the incident. 1 
 
 1 It may be said, that, as Macken zic's description of Hume's 
 character, this subject belongs to a later period of Iiis life the time 
 when Mackenzie was acquainted with him. But Mackenzie in- 
 tended it to he a true view of Hume's character as a young man; 
 and it appears that it properly belongs to that chronological period 
 to which its author assigned it.
 
 uismr.NcK in ruANci:. 
 
 Tin 1 opening description is in tin 1 . so worls : 
 '" More than forty years a^o. an Kii'ilish philosopher, 
 win.- works have sine" been read and admired by 
 all Kuropc, resided at a lit'le town in r ranee. Some 
 disappointments in his native country ha 1 tir>t driven 
 him abroad, and In' was a.t'terwards imlueed to remain 
 there, I'rom having found in this retreat, where the 
 con ii"\i <>ns e\ i'!i of nature anil lunn'iin^e were avoided, 
 a perfect .-eclusion and retirement, highly favourable 
 to the development of abstract subjects, in which he 
 exctdled all the writers of his time. 
 
 ' I 'crimps in the structure of such a mind as Mr. 
 
 's, the line and more delicate sensibilities are 
 
 seldom known to have place; or, if originally im- 
 planted there, are in a u'reat measure extinguished by 
 the exertions of intense study ami profound investiga- 
 tion. Hence the idea of philosophy and unfed in en ess 
 bein-- unite. 1, has become proverbial; and, in com- 
 mon lanu'ua ;e. the torimr word is often used to 
 e\ore>s the latter. < hir philosopher had been censured 
 by M)iii', as deficient in warmth and feelinu' : but the 
 mildness of his manners has been allowed b\ all : and 
 it i- ('"rtain. that if he was not easily melted into 
 (onions-ion. it was at l"a.-t not dillicult to awaken his 
 
 belieVob-llCe." 
 
 iiuiu'es-ion of the a"* ions of a kind, charitable, 
 :<< \ * i I * i*: : ;' ilispod; ion. conveyed by the circum- 
 
 'i'llii'iK! rra' i ve, canuo; h i epro.-en; >] w it boat 
 
 in full : and it w ill pruhahh b 
 
 " i me o; t \\ t > I'll --!!'_;' -k '! ' I , - - el cha I ;n'| r, 
 
 -uei al ive, are all that >h mid I > ! ak>-n i :it > a 
 
 Wol'k like the pl'e-'lit. fV.iiii a 1 k ;ieee~-';ble (o 
 
 CVel'V l'i :i'!" r . -. wL'll the housekeeper cullies 
 
 with the accouui of tic di>: re>sos of the poor pro- 
 te>1 ant <-le'i':^\ man an 1 his daughter :
 
 60 THE LIFE OF DAVID IIUME. 1734-1737. 
 
 " Her master laid aside the volume in his hand, 
 and broke off the chain of ideas it had inspired. His 
 night-gown was exchanged for a coat, and he followed 
 his gouvernante to the sick man's apartment." 
 
 Again, 
 
 " La Roche found a degree of simplicity and gentle- 
 ness in his companion, which is not always annexed 
 to the character of a learned or a wise man. His 
 daughter, who was prepared to be afraid of him, was 
 equally undeceived. She found in him nothing of that 
 self-importance which superior parts, or great cultiva- 
 tion of them, is apt to confer. He talked of every 
 thing but philosophy or religion; he seemed to enjoy 
 every pleasure and amusement of ordinary life, and to 
 be interested in the most common topics of discourse : 
 when his knowledge or learning at any time appeared, 
 it was delivered with the utmost plainness, and with- 
 out the least shadow of dogmatism." 
 
 And not less distinctly are the following sentences 
 the echo of Mackenzie's own observations of the 
 character and habits of the philosopher, that they are 
 put in the varied shape of dialogue and narrative. 
 
 "You regret, my friend," said [La Roche,] "'when 
 my daughter and I talk of the exquisite pleasure 
 derived from music, you regret your want of musical 
 powers ami musical feelings; it is a department of 
 soul, you say. which nature has almost denied you, 
 which, from the eifects you see it have on others, you 
 are sure must be highly delightful. \\ !iy should not 
 the same thing be said of religion ' Trust me. I feel 
 it in the same way, ;m energy, an inspiration, which I 
 would not lose for all the blessings of sense or enjoy- 
 ments of the world And it would 
 
 have been inhuman in our philosopher to have clouded, 
 even with a doubt, the sunshine of this belief.
 
 a: 
 
 Lii:<IIJ-;.N: .. l.S IRAM Ii. 
 
 I.i 
 
 ' Ili< discourse \v:i> verv remote from imtn- 
 phy-ieal disquisition or reli-hm- controversy. < > t' all 
 tii ( -it I ever knew, his ordinary cun.Tsaticn was tin: 
 l'a-! tiin-l u r< ' 1 with pedantry or ! i .1 1 >1 to dis-ertntioii. 
 With La. Koclu' :; 1 1 < 1 his daughter ii was [ o rl'*<_-t 1 y 
 fainiliar. ' I " i ; - coiiutrv round t ii -in. tlm manners of 
 tli' villagers, ti;" comparison of both with tho.-e of 
 filmland, remarks on the works of favourite author.-', 
 or the >''iit iiiioiit s tliov conveyed, ami tin* passions 
 lla-v excite. 1. with many other topics in which there 
 was an equality, or alternate advantage nmomj; the 
 sneakers, were the .-ubjects they talked on." 
 
 Nor can one. a ft or having <j not ed so n inch, a void Liivini;" 
 tlie roncludinn" sentence, in which the philosopher 
 contemplate.- the old clereyman s _ t ' i i " for the [o-s of 
 i.i- daughter, and at the -nine time that he perceives 
 it- bit tern e>s. and i 1 1 1 en .-it y. is n.ade aware of the 
 
 -"l;:fi,ei- W'hieii the hep'aVed old mail tllld- ill 
 
 . and " reji nee- t hal -mdi coii.-ohit ion "' i- i.i-. 
 
 Mr. s In-art was -mitten : and 1 have heard 
 
 him l'>i, ; after conie-s, that there were moments 
 
 when tiie reineinbrauce overcame him evmi in woik- 
 
 n -- : when, amidst all the ph:;-iire- of philo-u pineal 
 
 overy, and the pride of literary fame, he recalled 
 
 to hi- mind the venerable livjnv of the - I La 
 
 lbn-he. and w i.-lmd that 1m had never doubted." 
 
 Ida- account of his .-ojoiirn in I'rance is tiius eiveii 
 in i.i- "" ow u life : " 1 )iiriii'.: my re| ri-at in Ida nee, 
 
 ' Ivll illiS, but chi' ll V at I ,a 1 deelm. j M \ n j, ni, I 
 
 i my ' 1 'real i-e () f I i unian Nat ui .' \ Iter 
 pa--iim t'uree \<ai\- wrv imreeabh in that cu'iiilry 1 
 c; me o\ i r to London in I 7'-W . 
 
 \\ e in u- i now follow I.i in to London, w la re w 
 him occiipidi in canyine hi- " I'reati.-e of Human 
 Nature," through the pre--. < Mm of his early friends
 
 G2 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1737. 
 
 was his namesake Henry Home, afterwards Lord 
 Karnes, who pursued, but with unequal step, the same 
 path with himself. Home was fifteen years the elder 
 of the two, and had joined the bar in 1723. He had 
 already published some of his professional works; 
 but it was at a subsequent period of his life, and when 
 he perhaps became emulous of the fame of his friend, 
 that he attempted works in ethics, metaphysics, and 
 criticism. During many years of continued intimacy, 
 these Uxo distinguished men enjoyed each other's 
 mutual respect ; but, in their early intercouse, when 
 his senior had for some time occupied a prominent 
 position in the eye of the public, we naturally find 
 Hume writing about his great project in a tone of 
 modest deference. 
 
 Hume to Henry Home, 
 
 "London, December 2, 1?3?, 
 
 " Dear Sir, I am sorry I am not able to satisfy 
 your curiosity by giving you some general notion of 
 the plan upon which L 'proceed. But my opinions 
 arc so new, and even some terms I am obliged to 
 make use of, that I could not propose, by any 
 abridgment, to give my system an air of likelihood, 
 or so much as make it intelligible. It is a thine 1 have 
 in vain attempted already, at a gentleman's request 
 in this place, who thought it would help him to 
 comprehend and judge of my notions, if he saw them 
 all at once before him. I have had a greater desire 
 of communicating to you the plan of the whole, that 
 I believe it will not appear in public before the 
 beginning of next winter. For, besides that it would 
 be difficult to have it printed before the rising of the 
 parliament, I must confess I. am not ill pleased 
 with a little delay, that it may appear with as few
 
 ( <>R[ii;>po.\ir..\ri: with iio.mk. 
 
 (;; 
 
 imperfections as possible 1 have been here near 
 throe months, always within a week <t" a^roeine; with 
 my printers : and you may inne/nie 1 1 i 1 not forget 
 tin 1 work itself during that time, when' I be^an to 
 fee] some pas-a^es weaker tor tin 1 stylo ami diction 
 than I could have w i>aed. 'l'li * u earn c>s and uT'-atm >.s 
 of tic event roiix'd up in v attention, and made me 
 more 1 1 i Hit- u 1 1 to please, than when I was alone in 
 perfect tranquillity in France. But here I mu-t tell 
 you one mi' my foihles. ) have a u'reat inclination to 
 Li'o down to Scotland this spring to sec my friends; 
 and have your advice concerning my philosophical 
 discoveries : hut cannot overcome' a certain r-hamo- 
 faceilne-is I have to appear anions yon at my years, 
 without having yet a settlement, or so niucii as 
 attempted any. i low ha p] tens it that we philo>ophers 
 cauno; as heartilv despi-c the world as it de>pi> > us .' 
 ! think in my conscience the contempt were as well 
 found 'd on our side as on the other. 
 
 "Having a franked letter. 1 was resolved to make 
 ',- of it : and according v emdose some " li> //><* 
 
 rrrntml M i rurlrs,' ' which I O1IC0 thought of pllh- 
 
 ! ~ 1 1 i i s ii" with the rest, hut which I am afraid will aive 
 too much otfeiice. even as the world is dispo>. d at 
 ju'e.-eiit. There is soiuet liine,' in the turn of thought, 
 and a eood deal in the turn oi' expression, which wail 
 not perhaps appear so proper, for want of know inn' 
 context: l>ut the force of the argument \ou"il 
 !>e i id-jv of. as it stands. Tell me your thoichi - of 
 i . !- no* the >tyh- too diffuse." though, a- tha' was 
 a p'ljiuiar argument, I have spread it out much i 
 
 a the other parts of tic work. I hee; of \ mi to 
 
 III' IV !l~i ' . 
 
 V. -," 1 7 is. 
 
 ' . - :n ' i : ! ): l>;i"iv p 
 lal'T \ :> \ - m tlie ' I Mill" ']
 
 64 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. J 737. 
 
 show it to nobodv, except to Mr. Hamilton, if lie 
 pleases; and let me know at your leisure that you 
 have received it, read it, and burnt it. Your thoughts 
 and mine agree with respect to Dr. Butler, and I 
 would be glad to be introduced to him. I am at 
 present castrating my work, that is, cutting off its 
 nobler parts ; that is, endeavouring it shall give as 
 little offence as possible, before which, I could not 
 pretend to put it into the Doctor's hands. This is a 
 piece of cowardice, for which I blame myself, though 
 I believe none of my friends will blame me. But I 
 was resolved not to be an enthusiast in philosophy, 
 while I was blaming other enthusiasms. If ever I 
 indulge myself in any, 'twill be when I tell you that 
 I am, dear Sir, yours." 1 
 
 Butler, to whom Hume is thus found desiring an 
 introduction, had, in the immediately preceding year, 
 published " The Analogy of Religion, Natural and 
 Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature ;" 
 and it appears that Hume courted the attention of 
 the author of that clear logical work to those specu- 
 lations of his own, which, in the opinion of the world 
 in general, have so opposite a tendency to that of the 
 " Analogy." The following letter, acknowledging an 
 introduction from Home, and dated 4th March, 17.38, 
 tells its own tale. 
 
 gl I shall not trouble you with any formal compli- 
 ments or thanks, which would be but mi ill return for 
 the kindness you have done me in writing in my 
 behalf, to one you are so little acquainted with as 
 Dr. Butler; and, I am afraid, stretching the truth in 
 favour of a friend. I have called upon the Doctor, 
 
 1 Tvtlcr, Life of Karnes, i. 84.
 
 .r.:. y,--::. 
 
 I'Rl'.I'ARINt; FOR PRESS. 
 
 <;." 
 
 with u design of delivering liim your letter, but find 
 lie is at present in the country. 1 am a little 
 anxious to have the Doctor's opinion. My own I dare 
 not trust to ; both because it concerns myself, and 
 because it is so variable, that I know not how to 
 lix it. Sometimes it elevates me above the clouds ; 
 at. other times, it depresses me with doubts and {'ears; 
 so that, whatever be my success. I cannot be entir !y 
 disappointed. Somebody has told me that you iniuht 
 perhaps be in London this spring. I should esteem 
 this a very lucky event: and notwithstanding all the 
 pleasures of the town. I would certainly enquire you 
 to pass some philosophical evenings with me, and 
 either correct my judgment, where you differ from 
 nu\ or confirm it where wo a^ree. I believe I have 
 some need of the on<\ as well as the other ; and 
 though th" propensity to diffidence be an error on the 
 better side, vet 'tis an error, and dangerous as well 
 as disagreeable. ! am. iS:c. 
 
 I lodu'e at present in the Rainbow ('offeehous*, 
 Lancaster Court." ' 
 
 The transactions between authors and booksellers 
 are seldom accompanied by any formidable arra\ 
 of leual formalities: but Hume and his publishers 
 seem to have thought it necessary to bind each other 
 in the most stringent manner, to the performance of 
 t ';.; r respective obligations, by 'articles of a^r "iiieut. 
 le. concluded, and agreed, upon the L'lUh day of 
 September, in the year of our Lord one thousand 
 M'\rii hundred and thirty-ei^ht. and in the twelfth 
 vear of the rrien of our sovereign lord l\in_; (ieorea* 
 the Second.- between |);ivid 1 1 nine of Lancaster 
 Court of the one part, and John Noone of Cheapside, 
 
 1 Tv'-r. bit",- ..: K;:nu-, i. <S. 
 VOL. I. I
 
 66 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 London, bookseller, of the other part." By this very 
 precise document, it is provided, that " the said David 
 Hume shall and will permit and suffer the said John 
 Noone to have, hold, and enjoy, the sole property, 
 benefit, and advantage of printing and publishing the 
 first edition of the said book, not exceeding one 
 thousand copies thereof." The author, in return, 
 receives 50, and twelve bound copies of the book. 1 
 The transaction is on the whole creditable to the 
 discernment and liberality of Mr. Noone. It may be 
 questioned, whether, in this age, when knowledge has 
 spread so much wider, and money is so much less 
 valuable, it would be easy to find a bookseller, who, 
 on the oroimd of its internal merits, would give 50 
 for an edition of a new metaphysical work, by an 
 unknown and young author, born and brought up in 
 a remote part of the empire. These articles refer to 
 the first and second of the three volumes of the 
 ''Treatise of Human Nature;" and they were ac- 
 cordingly published in January, 1739. They include 
 " Book I. Of the Understanding," and " Book II. Of 
 the Passions." 
 
 It has been generally and justly remarked, that 
 the Treatise is among the least systematic of 
 philosophical works that it has neither a definite 
 and comprehensive plan, nor a logical arrangement, 
 it was, indeed, so utterly deficient in the former 
 there was so complete a want of any projected scope 
 of subject which the author was bound to exhaust in 
 what he wrote that an attempt to divide and sub- 
 divide the matter after it had been written, according 
 to a logical arrangement, would only, as a son: 
 of crfit ' riiitralimi cruris, have exposed the imperfect 
 character of the original plan. The author, therefore, 
 
 1 Original MS. R.S.E.
 
 V.r. :7. TiiKATISK ol III MAN N Ail Itll. i'7 
 
 very discreetly allowed his matter to be a frame d a ; 
 the subjects of which lie treated had respectively sm; - - 
 U'ested themselves, and he-stowed on his work a title 
 rather general than comprehensive. a title, of which 
 all that can he said of its aptness to the subject is, 
 that no part of his hook can he said to he wholly 
 without it. while he miudit have included an almost 
 incalculable multitude of other subjects within it. 
 lie culled it simply " A Treatise of Human Nature:" 
 and by a subsidiary title, explanatory rather of his 
 method than definitive of his matter, he called it " an 
 attempt to introduce the experimental method of 
 reasoning into moral subjects. '" 
 
 The purely metaphysical, 1 and, at the same time, 
 the most original portion of the work, and that which 
 has most conspicuously rendered itself a constituent 
 part of the literature of intellectual philosophy, is 
 !!- ok 1. Of the l'nder>tandinu." ' Uook 1 1. < f the 
 i'a.--dons," contains mixed metaphysics and ethic.-. 
 with occasional notices of phenomena, which, thou '., 
 ( I nine does not, other writers would be likely to conn, ct 
 w ith phy.-iolouieal impiirms. The third book, "Hi" 
 \ 'irtue and \ ice in liencral." published a year later, 
 is of an ethical character, beinn' an impiiiy into the 
 origin and proper system of morals, and an application 
 of t he s\>teiii to <''ovei 'i; in cut and politics. 
 
 ':...' i!.;i ', ;! : . 
 
 I'll i ' ..;;.'. 1 
 
 i t 1 1 ii 1 1 ! ' .' I'll 1 1 ...:. I 
 
 '. . : 
 
 In iv. .'\ ;. ! i'i 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 ]i!:lt ; ..ll. ;i!ll :i- :ii'; !:< .'*' 
 ril'i' its clt'iiicnl . 
 ! _v '.- ::!>.i s > 1 1 1 o e 
 
 : ' v l.icli til.' w.
 
 68 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 The "Treatise of Human Nature" afforded materials 
 for the criticism of two very distinct classes of writers. 
 The one consisted of men imbued with a spirit of 
 inquiry kindred to that of Hume, and a genius capable 
 of appreciating his services in the cause of truth ; who, 
 as the teachers of systems of which they were them- 
 selves the architects, had to attack or to defend the 
 principles promulgated in the Treatise, according as 
 these differed from or corresponded with their own. 
 It is in the writings of these men that the true im- 
 mortality of Hume as a philosopher consists. Whether 
 they find in him great truths to acknowledge, or subtle 
 and plausible errors to attack, they are the vital evi- 
 dence of the originality of his work, of the genius that 
 inspired it, and of its great influence on human thought 
 and action. The other class of critics are those who, 
 in pamphlets, or works more ambitious but not rising 
 in real solidity above that fugitive class, or in occa- 
 sional digressions from other topics, have endeavoured 
 to prejudice the minds of their readers against the 
 principles of the Treatise, by exaggeration, or by the 
 misapplication of their metaphysical doctrines to the 
 proceedings of every-day life, a- set of literary efforts 
 of quick production and as quick decay. 
 
 To the former class of authors, it is of course not 
 within the scope of the present writer's ambition to 
 belong, and he sees no occasion to attempt to imitate 
 the hitter. In a work, however, which professes to 
 give a life of David Hume, it is necessary to say 
 something about the ''Treatise of Human Nature;" and 
 as a preliminary to such an attempt, it may be well 
 to mark the boundaries within which the writer con- 
 ceives that the duty he has assumed calls on him for 
 a description of the work, neither impugning nor de- 
 fending any of the opinions it sets forth.
 
 .I!..-;. TiiKATI.SK 01" HUMAN NATL'UK. 
 
 C'J 
 
 It seems to bo right that some attempt should be 
 ma . It to describe the character and strength of the 
 author's intellect, and the method of its operations ; 
 ami to give a view of the fundamental characteristic 
 principles by which he professes to distinguish 
 his own philosophy from that of other writers on 
 metaphyseal subjects. An attempt should also be 
 made to tell in what respect 1 1 nine has made inci- 
 dental suggestions which have either been admitted 
 as new truths in metaphysics, or have, as original but 
 perhaps fallacious surest ions, afforded to other 
 thinkers the means of establishing truth-. These 
 being the general objects to be kept in view, there is 
 no intention to take them in any precise order, or to 
 exhaust them in remarks on this one work. To attempt 
 an analysis of the work would be out of place. There 
 can be no more repulsive matter for reading than 
 condensed metaphysics : and probably there is nothing 
 less instructive than those abridgments, which, nee \S- 
 sarily suppressing the author's discursive arguments, 
 appeal almost entirely to the memory. To seize on 
 and give a descriptive rather than an analytical 
 account of the prominent features of the system, will 
 be the chief aim of these remarks. Moreover, the 
 Treatise bears on subjects which are nearly all recalled 
 in its author's subsequent work's: and while there are 
 some thine- in the critical historv of 1 1 nine's opinions 
 which mav be appropriately viewed in connexion with 
 his liiM publication, there are others whieh it n ay be 
 more expedient to examine when he i- found recon- 
 sidering the subject-* in hi- later work-: and ;;;-. ei. 
 othe] - w Inch ma v ' he \ , wv'-d in a mpt to 
 
 de -eribe the i \te):t <:" hi v r; '\ : i > ! i i \ emeni - 
 
 reat i-e ha- oe-n :; !p:c 
 
 n o! as em hrii'iii; 
 
 at oliiects. nietaidivsics and etaics : o, three, it
 
 70 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. J 730-17-39. 
 
 politics be considered as distinct from ethics. The 
 great leading principle of the metaphysical depart- 
 ment, and a principle which is never lost sight of in 
 any part of the book, is, that the materials on which 
 intellect works are the impressions which represent 
 immediate sensation, whether externally as by the 
 senses, or internally as by the passions, and ideas 
 which are the faint reflections of these impressions. 
 Thus to speak colloquially, when I see a picture, or 
 when I am angry with some one, there is an impres- 
 sion; but when I think about this picture in its 
 absence, or call to recollection my subsided anger, 
 what exists in either case is an idea. Hume looked 
 from words to that which they signified, and he found 
 that where they signified any thing, it must be found 
 among the things that either are or have been im- 
 pressions. The whole varied and complex system of 
 intellectual machinery he found occupied in the re- 
 presentation, the combination, or the arrangement of 
 these raw materials of intellectual matter. If I say 
 I see an object, I give expression to the fact, that a 
 certain impression is made on the retina of my 
 eye. If I convey to the person I am speaking to an 
 accurate notion of what I mean, I awaken in his mind 
 ideas left there by previous impressions, brought thither 
 by his sense of sight. 1 Thus, in the particular case 
 of the external senses, when they arc considered as in 
 direct communication between the mind and any object, 
 there arc impressions : when the senses arc not said 
 
 1 The term ' : ideas," in the philosophical nomenclature of Hume, 
 is thus used in a sense quite distinct from its previous current accep- 
 tations, and as different from its vernacular use by Plato, in refer- 
 ence 1 to the archetypes of all the empirical objects of thought, as 
 from its employment by Locke, who used it to express " whatsoever 
 is the object of the understanding when a man thinks."
 
 TltKATiSF. i)!' IllMAN NATl'lIi:. 
 
 to be in communication with the object, the operations 
 oi the mind in connexion with it. arc from vestiges 
 which the impressions have left on the miml: ami these 
 vestiges are called ideas, and arc always more faint 
 than the original impressions themselves. And a mate- 
 rial circumstance to he kept in view at the very 
 threshold of the system i<. that there is no spccilie and 
 distinct line drawn between impressions and ideas. 
 i heir ditference is in decree merely the former are 
 stronger, the latter weaker. There is no difference in 
 kind; and there is sometimes doubt whether that 
 which is supposed to be an impression may not be u 
 vivid idea, and that which is supposed to be an idea a 
 faint impression. 
 
 \\ hen Hume examined, with more and more minute- 
 ness, the elements of the materials on whieh the mind 
 works, he could still find nothing but these impressions 
 and ideas. Looking at language as a machinery for 
 giving expression to thought, he thus established for 
 l.im.-elf a te.st of its adaptation to its right us '. a 
 : -' for discovering whether in any given case it really 
 served the purpose of language, or was a mere un- 
 meaning sound. As he found that there was nothing 
 on which thought could operate but the impressions 
 received through sensation, or the ideas left by them, 
 he considered that a word which had not a meaning 
 to be found in either of these thing-, had no meaning 
 ai all. lie looked upon ideas as the good- with which 
 mind \v;i> stored ; and on these store-;, a- In i;ig of 
 the idiaracter of' imp re- -ions, whih' they \\ r in '. 
 ,-';ite of coining into the mind. \\ hen an;. <:e'. ti.en, 
 in re;i.-oui;:g. or any other kind of literature, spoke of 
 any thing as e\i-* i.i . ! ic ; of hi- 1 homy was, 
 
 that this stoivhou-e of i. 1. -:ili/.< d impi'e.--ions should be 
 Searched for one corresponding to the term made u-e
 
 72 THE LIFE OE DAVID HUME. 1730-1739. 
 
 of. If such an impression were not found, the word 
 was, so far as our human faculties were concerned, an 
 unmeaning one. Whether there was any existence 
 corresponding to its meaning, no one could say : all 
 that the sceptical philosopher could decide was, that, 
 so far as human intellect was put in possession of 
 materials for thought, it had nothing to warrant it in 
 saying, that this word represented any thing of which 
 that intellect had cognizance. 
 
 This limitation of the material put at the disposal 
 of the mind, was largely illustrated in the course of the 
 work; and the illustrations assumed some such charac- 
 ter as this: Imaginative writers present us with de- 
 scriptions of things which never, within our own ex- 
 perience, have existed, of things which, we believe, 
 never have had existence. Yet, however fantastic and 
 heterogeneous may be the representations thus pre- 
 sented to our notice, there is no one part, of which we 
 form a conception, that is any thing more than a new 
 arrangement of ideas that have been left in the mind 
 by impressions deposited there by sensation. The most 
 extravagant of eastern or classical fictions there find 
 their elements. If it be a three-headed dog, a winged 
 horse, a fiery dragon, or a golden palace, that is spoken 
 of, the reader who forms a conception of the narrative 
 puts it together with the ideas left in his mind by 
 impressions conveyed through the external senses. If 
 a spectre is said to be raised, it may be spoken of as 
 not denser than the atmosphere, yet the attributes 
 that bring a conception of it to the intellect are the 
 form and proportions of a human being, expression, 
 action, and habiliments : all elements the ideas of 
 which the mind has received through the impressions 
 of the senses. If words were used in a book of fiction 
 which did not admit of being thus realized by the
 
 .i:,. 
 
 TUEATl.-E 01-' 11 T. MAN NATL'KE. 
 
 in i: ill putting together a corresponding portion of the 
 ideas .stored up within it supplying, as it were, the 
 described costume from this wardrohe then, accord - 
 i 1 1 Li." to Hume's philosophy, the word would he a sound 
 without meaning. He maintained a like rule as to 
 books of philosophy. If the authors used terms which 
 were not thus represented in the storehouse of the 
 matter of thought and language, they were not reason- 
 ing on what they knew : they were not using words 
 as the signs of things signified, hut j > r i i i t i n u unmeaning 
 collections of letters, or uttering senseless sounds. 
 
 'Flic system, if it were to he classed under the old 
 metaphysical divisions, was one of nominalism. Such 
 words as shape, colour, hardness, roughness, \'c. the 
 author of tie' Treatise could only admit to have a 
 Meaning in as far as they signified ideas in the mind ; 
 and these ideas could only be there as the relics of 
 impressions derived through the senses. Thus, general 
 term-, such as the categories id' Aristotle, could have 
 no existence except in so far as they represented and 
 cailed up particulars. Of the abstract term colour. 
 our nation is derived solely from the ideas left in the 
 mind by the actual impressions made through the 
 senses. 1 1 eat. cold, and largeness, so far as these words 
 represent what is really in the mind, have no other 
 foundation. 
 
 I'he application of this system to the mathematics, 
 and to natural philosophy, was so startling as to 
 afford to some readers almost a /"' duff H> in/ <,usu r>! '" m. 
 The infinite divisibility of matter was arraigiu d by 
 Hume as -o far from being a truth, that i f wa< not 
 even capable of being conceived 1>\ the mind. which 
 had never vet received any impressions through the 
 senses corresponding to the expression. I "1 very man 
 had seen matter divided some into smaller fragments
 
 74 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 than others ; hut where our ideas, derived from actual 
 experiment, stopped in minuteness of division, the con- 
 ception of divisibility stopped also. The truth of 
 geometrical demonstration, as applicable to practice, 
 he did not deny ; but he maintained, or rather seemed 
 to maintain, for his reasoning here is of a highly subtle 
 order, that we have a conception of these operations 
 only in as far as they concur with really existing 
 things, or, more properly speaking, with the ideas in 
 the mind conveyed thither by the senses. Of the 
 point, which has no breadth, depth, or length ; of the 
 straight line, which is deficient in the first and second, 
 and not in the last of these qualities, he denied that 
 we could have an idea, unless that idea were just as 
 much the representative of an actual existence as any 
 other idea is. 
 
 Infinity of space was an expression to which he had 
 an objection on similar grounds ; it had no idea corres- 
 ponding to it lodged in the mind. Of space finite in vari- 
 ous quantities, the mind possessed ideas stored up from 
 repeated impressions, and by adding these ideas to- 
 gether, more or less vastness in the conception of finite 
 space was afforded. But any thing beyond this de- 
 finitive increase, attested as it was by the senses, 
 the mind had no means of conceiving. Whatever 
 might be in another intellectual world, there was no 
 idea corresponding to infinity of space in the mind of 
 man. It thence followed, that space unoccupied was 
 a conception of which the mind was incapable, be- 
 cause the impressions originally conveyed to the mind 
 were the medium through which the conception of 
 space existed, and where there were no ideas of such 
 impressions, an aggregate idea of space was wanting. 
 In the same manner it was held, that it was in a suc- 
 cession of impressions, with ideas corresponding, that
 
 .].:._:. TRKATISK OF III MAN XATI.'KK. 7.' 
 
 the conception of time consisted, ami that without such 
 a succession, time would be a tiling unknown and 
 unconeeived. < Mir ideas of nuinbers lie found to l>e 
 hut tin 1 collected ideas of the impressions of the units 
 of which the senses have received distinct impressions: 
 and in continuation of this he appealed to the dis- 
 tinctness of our notion of small numbers, which our 
 mind has been accustomed to find represented by 
 units, and our imperfect conception of those larii'e 
 numbers, which we have never had presented to us in 
 detail. How readily we have a notion of six. but 
 how imperfectly the mind receives the conception of 
 six millions: how clearly we perceive, in units, the 
 difference between six and twelve, but how imperfect 
 is our notion of the difference between six millions 
 and t welve million.-. 1 
 
 It' we take :.- tl,r nt in . .-t l.iiuinl.- of t!. : - -y-n m the orhit 
 I [ill-. Wo -hall find th:il it oeellpie- a portion of -pace Hot lo>-, 
 
 three ill" . :iinl -ix 1 1 u i . . 1 1 -. I million- of mile- in extent. IK' 1 
 i: I tail- 1- 1 -iiii an exact notion of a port ion of -pace -o iniini n-e ; 
 i li a of it may lio ol.taiiinl from tin- fact, that, if tin' 
 -v. ifte-t rai'i -!mr-o ever known, had fr.-un to tra\er.-e it at full 
 (-poo,!, at the lime of tin 1 liirth of Mom-, ho c.iil.1 oiilv a- yet have 
 ;ii'i oiii]>li I.imI half hi- |-'inirv." Ve-ti:_-e- i !' the Natural I li-torv 
 ( 'roat ion, pp. 1 _'. I Inv an attoinpt i- made to ^\\ e a coin 'op- 
 tion of ah-traot nninhcr-. hv callim: np in the iniml the i > 1 - : i - 
 -:ti 1 thorc li'om actual iiiipiv-Moii-. Ilimic hail, in the appli- 
 ' ii i I' hi thoorv to iiiathcnnitic . to -!ruL'.:lo with t! e fact that 
 hail a charcr ami in. .1 ili-tinct c\i-toni i: ll.o i ': 1 
 than the ah-tract truth- of tho exact -eienee- ; ami I", .-lir.. the 
 . ho th'l- 1 : ' 1 1 to rni'- lilltor. ho di.l ( t . . T recur in hi- -'.! 
 
 ipn-ni to ihi part of the cop ,-. K : 
 
 n I tl for him. hv tn ' ' . - a- 
 
 - vii t hot a 'a I int u; t ; '. ..': r t ; m i ' lac .% 
 
 i-ton<'c. tlioiiL'h ilo] !ii :: e\] ori. t:oe ' i! |,m>w \, ,!_o ,,f their 
 coiiori !c applioa! : : ] ' i: i iv hi ' - : :. ' 1 it a' : ! < 1 i . ' 
 
 cot, -1. of hi- lo'| ry. I luna ' to ).a\ , noai lv tint ii ;p:d >1
 
 76 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 All human consciousness being of these two 
 materials, impressions and ideas, the answer to the 
 question, What knowledge have we of an external 
 world, resolved itself into this, that there were certain 
 impressions and ideas which we supposed to relate to 
 it further we knew not. When we turn, according to 
 this theory, from the external world, and, looking into 
 ourselves, ask what certainty we have of separate 
 self-existence, we find but a string of impressions and 
 ideas, and w r e have no means of linking these together 
 into any notion of a continuous existence. Such is that 
 boasted thing the human intellect, when its elements are 
 searched out by a rigid application of the sceptical phi- 
 losophy of Hume. Not a thing separate and self-exis- 
 tent, which was, and is, and shall continue ; but a suc- 
 cession of mere separate entities, called in one view 
 impressions, in another ideas. 1 
 
 It may make this brief sketch more clear, to notice 
 a circumstance in the history of philosophy, which, 
 perhaps, serves better in an incidental manner to 
 mark the boundaries of the field of Hume's inquiry, 
 than many pages of discursive description. The 
 transcendentalists took him up as having examined 
 the materials solely, on which pure reason operates ; 
 
 1 "If any impression gives rise to the idea of self, that impres- 
 sion must continue invariably the same, through the whole course 
 of our lives: since self is supposed to exist after that manner. Hut 
 there is no impression constant and invariable. Pain and pleasure, 
 grief and joy, passions and sensations, succeed each other, and never 
 all exist at the same time. It cannot, therefore, be from any of 
 these impressions, or from any other, that the idea of self is derived ; 
 
 and consequently there is no such idea For my part 
 
 when I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I always 
 stumble on some perception or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, 
 love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at any 
 tiii'.e without a perception, and never can observe anything but the 
 perception." Treatise, 15. i. p. iv. sect. 6.
 
 .r.i. :.:. tkkatisi: or ih'.man NA'rrr.r 
 
 not pure reason itself. They said that he had examined 
 t lie classes of matter which come heforo the jud^e, hut 
 had omitted to describe the jud^e himself, the extent of 
 his jurisdiction, and his method of enforcing it. They 
 maintained, that all these things, which wit h Ilium? 
 appeared to he the con>tituent elements of philosophy, 
 were nothing hut the materials on which philosophy 
 works. that to presume them to he of service pre- 
 supposed a reason which could make use of them. 
 that Hume himself, while thus speculating ;;nd telling 
 us that his mind consisted hut of a string of ideas, left 
 hehind hy certain impressions, was himself making 
 use of that pure reason which was in him hefore t lie 
 ideas or impressions existed, and was through that 
 power adapting the impressions and i I as to u<e. He 
 characterised his system as "an attempt to introduce 
 the experimental method of reasoning into moral suh- 
 j-ct-:" hut they said that there was another and a 
 preliminary matter of inquiry the faculty, to speak 
 popularly, which surest cd what experiments >hould 
 he made, and judged of t heir results. 
 
 1 ! ume may he found indirectly lament in_' the fate of 
 his own work on metaphysics, in his remarks on other 
 works of a kindred character: and in the.- criticisms 
 Ave have a (due to the expectation- lie had formed. In 
 hi- well-known rapid criticism on the literature of the 
 epoch of the < I \ II wars, he say S of I 1 1 dil ii -s ; " \ o ;i |]t ) : ,,r 
 ill that au'e was more c. Iehrated hoth ahi'oad and at 
 heme than I lohh. -. In our tiim .-. he is imirli medected : 
 a h\ eh instance how precarioi;- all reputal ion- founded 
 on re.-i-i iiinj and philosophy ' A plea-an! iMiindy 
 which paint> tic manners ot the n_a\ am] ,-\\ ,,-,.< ;t 
 hfid | lift are of mil are. i- a durahh' w o: k. and is 
 transmitted to the httc-t po-t-rity. I i t n a-y-'ma. 
 whether nhv.-ical or na tanhv.-ieal. owe- commonlv its
 
 78 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 success to its novelty ; and is no sooner canvassed 
 with impartiality, than its weakness is discovered." 
 
 Like the majority of literary prophecies dictated hy 
 feeling and not by impartial criticism, this one, whether 
 as it refers to " The Leviathan," of which it is ostensibly 
 uttered, or to the "Treatise of Human Nature," the fate 
 of which doubtless suggested it, has proved untrue. 
 The influence of Hobbes has revived, as that of the 
 Treatise remained undiminished from the time when 
 it was first fully appreciated. And in both cases their 
 influence has arisen from that element which seems 
 alone to be capable of giving permanent value to 
 metaphysical thought. It is not that in either case 
 the fundamental theory of the author is adopted, 
 as the disciples of old imbibed the system of their 
 masters, but that each has started some novelties in 
 thought, and, either by themselves sweeping away 
 prevailing fallacies, or suggesting to others the means 
 of doing so, have cleared the path of philosophy. As 
 a general system, the philosophy of Hobbes has been 
 perhaps most completely rejected at those times when 
 its incidental discoveries and suggestions made it most 
 serviceable to philosophy, and were the cause of its 
 being most highly esteemed. "Harm I can do none," 
 says Hobbes, when speaking of the metaphysicians 
 who preceded him, "though I err not less than they, 
 for I leave men but as they are, in doubt and dispute." 
 There is indeed nothing in the later history of meta- 
 physical writing to show that the triumphs in that 
 department of thought are to stretch beyond the 
 establishment of incidental truths, the removal of fal- 
 lacies, and the suggestion of theories that may teach 
 men to think. The field is a republic : incidental 
 merit has its praise, and is allowed its pre-eminence; 
 but no one mind, it may safely be pronounced, holds
 
 T.i. -7- THKATISK (.!' Ill MAN NATl'RF.. 
 
 :o 
 
 in it that monarchical sway which Adam Smith retains 
 over the empire of political economy. The ancient 
 systems anterior to ( hristianit\ allowed of such empire. 
 The pupil did not follow his master merely in this and 
 that incidental truth developed, hut adopted the system 
 in all its details and proportions, as his system and his 
 creed. In later times it would prohahly he found 
 that the most devoted admirers of ureat writers on 
 metaphysics do not adopt their opinions in the mass; 
 and it seems that men must now uo elsewhere than to 
 the produce of human reason, for the u'rand leading prin- 
 ciples of the philosophy of belief and disbelief. 
 
 To those who hold that the writings of the uavat 
 metaphysicians are thus to be esteemed on account, 
 not of their fundamental principles, but of the truths 
 they brine- out in detail, a new theory is like a new- 
 road through an unfrequented country, valuable, not 
 for it-elf. but for the scenery which it opens up to 
 the traveller's eye. The thinker who adopts this 
 \ie\v, often wonders at the small beginning's of philo- 
 sophical systems wonders, perhaps, at the cireum- 
 stance of Kant having believed that his own system 
 started into life at one moment as he was iva ! 
 1 1 nine's \ ieus of Cause and Mi feet. I>ut the sol at ion 
 is ready at hand. We feel that the philosopher of 
 Kiini^sbern' had in his mind the impulse.- that would 
 have driven him into a new path had no Hume 
 preceded him. We owe it to the l'.s>ay on Cause and 
 Li; I'l that it was the stnrtinu'-point at which he left 
 
 hi- eath would have been as original. thoi;_h not, 
 
 -. in the same direct mm A 
 
 iin 
 
 himself. If the main outline of his th< ory i.ad never 
 
 occurred to him. he would still have been a -n at 
 
 u| '.< r; for in -ome form or otln r he would have
 
 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1788-1730. 
 
 found his way to those incidental and subsidiary 
 discoveries, which are admitted to have reality in them 
 by many who repudiate his general theory. 
 
 Of all the secondary applications of the leading 
 principle of the Treatise, none has perhaps exercised 
 so extensive an influence on philosophy, as this same 
 doctrine of cause and effect. Looking to those 
 separate phenomena, of which in common language 
 we call the one the cause of the other, and the other 
 the effect of that cause, he could see no other con- 
 nexion between them than that the latter immediately 
 followed the former. He found that the mind, pro- 
 ceeding on the inductive system, when it repeatedly 
 saw two phenomena thus conjoined, expected, when 
 that which had been in use to precede the other 
 made its appearance, that the other would follow ; 
 and he found that by repeated experiment this expec- 
 tation might be so far strengthened, that people were 
 ready to stake their most important temporal interests 
 on the occurrence of the phenomenon called the effect, 
 when that called the cause had taken place. But if 
 there were any thing else but this conjunction, of 
 which a knowledge was demanded if the unsatisfied 
 investigator sought for some power in the one 
 phenomenon which enabled it to be the fabricator of 
 the other the sceptical reasoner would answer, that 
 for all he could say to the contrary such a thing 
 might be, but he had no clue to that knowledge no 
 impression of any such quality passed into his intel- 
 lect through sensation- his mind had no material com- 
 mitted to it by which the existence or non-existence 
 of any such thing could be argued. 
 
 The vulgar notion of this theory was, that it 
 destroyed all our notions of regularity and system in 
 the order of nature ; that it made no provision for
 
 .Ia.'27. I KF,A I'lSi; ([' IllWlAN NATL' UK. 
 
 SI 
 
 unseen cans.-;, ami contemplated only the application 
 of the doctrines of can.-'' an ! etfect to things which 
 were palpably seen following each other. Hut the 
 inventor of the theory never questioned the regularity 
 of the operations of nature as established by the 
 inductive philosophy; he only endeavoured to . :.o\v 
 how far and within what limits we could acquire a 
 cognizance of the machinery of that regularity. lie 
 denied not that when the spark was applied, the gun- 
 powder would ignite, or that when the ball was 
 dropped, it would proceed to the earth with tin' 
 accelerated motion of gravitation ; but he denied that 
 we could see any other connexion between the cause 
 and etfect in either case, than that of uniform sequence. 
 When it was scientifically adopted, the theory was 
 found to be productive of the most important results. 
 The view that when any etfect was observed, that phe- 
 nomenon which was most uniform in its precedence was 
 the one entitled to lie termed the cause, wasa salutary 
 incentive to close and patient investigation, by laying 
 before the j thilosoj her the simple, numerical quest ion 
 what was that phenomenon which, by the uniformity 
 of its precedence, was entitled to be termed the 
 cause ' ' The test became of the simplest kind ; and. 
 if tin* experimentalist had at a particular time consi- 
 dered some phenomenon as a cause. if the fail he]- pro- 
 gress of patient and unprejudiced inquiry showed that 
 
 ;.' 'Mini"! c-iviji.- :i t.-cl nur uf a ~ [ < 1 1 i - 1 . 1 1 1 1 1 1 ! "ii liinl <.:. ;ivn 
 "j.luT ;i- I x - 1 1 -avin _-, t .\rii\ ,- I'nv m -. .-h. i\. tin! 
 lay ;n:<l ni.-lit n:i_-lc ) < :i 1 1 - -. I mill u:ill\ tin- 
 
 Iht. nil :irf,,unt <>[' tln'ir i n , . ' ' ; . n! n . 
 
 tin!', of th'-.' u lin li;i\ c _: .;;. i :,, : ;,i i \ . i: , i . i ! |;:i\ i 
 
 sivn i_iii'.'.| | |":. . 1 :; 1 :, ,! 1 : 1 1 ; I 1* i" l : I : i- 1 s l M ; '..< . 
 
 nil-null which ni'i-t mi 1 1- >n u ! v ] >ri-i--, li 1 ;!.. ram :>at; -:i n|" i.e. i-t 
 lii'lit, w;i- tin- a|']M-ar;iii < <<\ a luiiii'.am.-, I... |v. 
 
 Vol.. 1. (,
 
 82 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 another, by the occurrence of instances in which it pre- 
 ceded the effect while the former did not, had a prefer- 
 able title to be termed the cause, the mind in its un- 
 biassed estimate of numbers at once admitted the claim. 
 But when, according to the antagonist system, 1 it be- 
 came settled that any given phenomenon had in it the 
 power of bringing into existence another, that power 
 was viewed as a quality of the object. When things 
 are admitted to have qualities, it is not easy for the 
 mind at once to assent to their non-existence and to 
 admit that others have the proper title to these qualities. 
 Analogy, the great source of fallacies, comes to increase 
 the difficulty, by a confusion of what are termed the 
 qualities of bodies, and those endowments with which 
 we invest our fellow-creatures. In this respect 
 Hume's theory of cause and effect has been of great 
 service to inductive philosophy. 
 
 It was an objection to it that it made no allowance 
 for unseen causes ; but it w T as part of its author's 
 system, that the uniformity which our observation 
 teaches us, proceeds unseen in those cases to which 
 our observation cannot penetrate. It was part 
 of the theory, that where there is a want of the 
 absolute uniformity in the sequence of two phenomena, 
 they are not respectively cause and effect. This 
 principle is of vital importance in physical science. 
 It is a notion with the vulgar, and one that sometimes 
 perhaps lurks unseen in scientific operations, that the 
 cause sometimes docs not produce its effect by reason 
 of some failure in the operating power. It is from a 
 vague amplification of this heresy, that the popular 
 
 1 This refers to tlic notion, which may now be termed obsolete, at 
 least io philosophy, of an inherent power in the cause to produce the 
 effect not to Kant's theory, which does not appear to be incon- 
 sistent with the scientific application of Hume's.
 
 TRKATISK ()!' II L MAN NA'l I' HI".. 
 
 notion of chance is derived. 1 1 nine's theory nips the 
 bud of such a fallacy by den\ ine, whenever there is :i 
 hrcak in the sequence, that the phenomena which have 
 in other instances followed each other, really are cause 
 and t -fleet. It is perhaps in the unscientific applica- 
 tion of therapeutics, that the popular fallacy is most 
 w idi ly and most dangerously e\eni[)litie(I. The whole 
 of the complexity of that wondrous science consists in 
 th.- immediate causes and effects heinii unseen in 
 tiie phenomena immediately conjoined not beine; as- 
 certained, but in attempts beiicj; made to estimate 
 them through the connexion hetween those external 
 causes to which the internal causes may have had 
 the relation of effects, and those external effects of 
 which th<-se internal elfects may have been the causes. 
 The character of unseen causes was aptly illustrated 
 by Hume himself, from the throwing of a die. The 
 vulvar mind can see no cause and effect in the opera- 
 lien, because tie-re is a series of causes and effects, 
 which are hidden from the siu'ht, in the interior of the 
 box : but the philosopher knows not the less that 
 those laws of motion, which induction has established 
 to him as truths, are taking place : and that there is 
 no turn made by the die. which is not as much the 
 effect of some cause, as the turning of the hands of a 
 watch, or the parallel motion in a steam engine. 
 
 It i- one of the peculiar features of the history of 
 mental philosophy, that there i> scarcely ever a n -w 
 principle, associated with the name of a ureal author, 
 lei; it is shown that it has been anticipated, in ->;, 
 oracular sentence, probabh l>\ an oh-euro writer. 
 Joseph ( Ilanvill ; - pretty well know n a - the author of 
 ' Sad uei sm us Triumphutu-." a \ indicat i<>n of the belief 
 in witches mid ajipar. tions. which iuu>( have been 
 perused by all the curious in this species ( f lore
 
 84 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. J 7(38-1739. 
 
 Glanvill was the author of various tracts on biblical 
 subjects, but it was not generally known that he wrote 
 a book on sceptical philosophy, called " Scepsis Scien- 
 tifica, or, Confest Ignorance the Way to Science," until 
 it was unearthed by the persevering inquiries of Mr. 
 Hallam. In that book there is the passage, " all know- 
 ledge of causes is deductive, for we know none by simple 
 intuition, but through the medium of their effects ; so 
 that we cannot conclude any thing to be the cause of 
 another but from its continual accompanying it, for 
 the causality itself is insensible.'''' l This is an addition 
 
 1 " Scepsis Seientifica; or, Confest Ignorance the Way to Science, 
 in au essay of the vanity of dogmatizing and confident opinion." By 
 Joseph Glanvill, M.A. 1665, 4to, p. 142. Sec this coincidence 
 commented on in the Penny Cyclopaedia, art. Scepticism. The style 
 of Glanvill's Avork, in its rich variety of logical imagery and its 
 powerful use of antithesis, is formed on that of Sir Thomas Browne, 
 whose "Vulgar Errors" had been first published fifteen years earlier. 
 That one who wrote a book so full of wisdom so bold, original, 
 and firm in its attacks on received fallacies, should also have been 
 the champion of belief in witchcraft, in which his prototype, Sir 
 Thomas Browne, was also a believer, is one of those inconsistencies 
 in poor human nature, which elicit much wonder, but no explana- 
 tion. The following passages from this curious and rare book are 
 offered for the reader's amusement : 
 
 " We conclude many things impossibilities, which yet are easic 
 feasables. For by an unadvised transiliency, leaping from the 
 eil'ect to its remotest cause, we observe not the connexion through 
 the interposal of more immediate causalities, which yet at last bring 
 the extremes together without a miracle. And hereupon we hastily 
 conclude that impossible which wesec not in the proximate capacity 
 of its efficient" -pp. 88-84. 
 
 "From this last-noted head ariseth that other of joy ning causes 
 ici'/i irrelevant effects, which either refer not at all unto them, or 
 in a remoter capacity, llence the Indian conceived so grossly of 
 the letter that discovered his theft; and that other who thought the 
 watch an aid itial. From hence grew the impostures of charmes 
 and amulets, and other insignificant ceremonies; which to this day 
 ! npo.se upon common belief, as they did of old upon the barbarism
 
 Alt. '27. TREATISE OF [It MAN XATERE. s ', 
 
 to tin 1 many instances where writers have almost, as 
 it were by chance, lai'l ilown principles, of which 
 
 ol the uueultivate /i-'it/i. it. 'I'll ii> i'tl'i-ct- unu-ual, win i-f causes run 
 ini'li-r ^muiiiI. ami art: inure rt-iii* ! from ! 1 inu r v ili-eeruineiit, are 
 
 in it f 1 in tlit- 1 k i >f /'/'!!/ "/>i i, i 'it witli -/w i/'/*' I > '. >ir / >' nr> n *.- ; 
 
 t!i"ii::li llirv hwi' ii'i ullitT ilopemleneo I" tin' firs' than what i- 
 I'liniinnn to tin 1 whole sj/it?<i.r of beings imr vet any more to tin; 
 .*""/// I Lan what i.- _'i\ i'ii it liv tho iniairinatinii of tlni-o ungual itied 
 iii..--. Tliu-, e\ erv nnwuiitcil nil I- </ i- portentous ; an. I tin- aji- 
 'i* ni anv nii'ili-iTVO'l s'ir, some divine i-i''>-/it .-'<'/. Anti- 
 i . i : l i i _ 1 1 1 t/i'tuJ' / tin' iiiunriliati' \n\ve nf J"/"' /'. ami 
 ini]il.'a'li'il them uf ini]'i.-tv that referm! it tn natural eau-ali; :-'. 
 Wither can there happen a storm at this remove from antique 
 L'tinranee. but the inullit n<Io will have the / > v7 in it." pp. M-S."). 
 
 On th. ljhj , ,,/ 1-;, htr. ,;,,. 
 
 \V,. jiiilifi! all things liv mir tiiiti--'< /- it'h,ns ; ami eomh-nin or 
 applaud them, a- thev airrec ur 1 1 il r troiu > u i" iirs> r> / 
 ' >m.. I'nuntrv lau_'h- at tin' f-nrs, rn.--i"ins. ami j<iii cms t a: 
 a- aliMinl ami imliciilmi- : ami tin' otln-r i - a- rharitabii' to tin in in 
 it - cimci'it of their-." pp. !:>-: I. 
 
 '" Ihu-, like tin: heruiite, \\r think tin' -'in -hinc- nowhere but 
 .: c.'ll. ami all tin' wi.rM t , lie darkm-- l.ut our-olve-. We 
 
 jll l_ r e tttltll to lie ril'Clim-. !;!.. .,1 |,y th.' en ifuie of o .!' I.e'ief, ai .1 
 
 'trim- v,i> were l>r. :;_ h [ no in : ami, with a- ill manner a-. 
 t!m-e of C/i'tnu repute all tho r.--t <>\ tin- \\ .rhl m ,, ' >-. So 
 that, what .-oiiio a-trolo^or- -av of our /'/''";o x ami the |' i I 
 
 our 1 i \ i -, inav. 1 1 v tin- allowam f a metaphor, in- -an! "I our 
 
 "ft Hi- 1 us thai tlii-v are writ ton in mir ,'' i/v, liem_ r to tin' nm-t a- 
 
 fatal a- tho-.' in\ nlimtarv oeeunvneo-, an 1 a- litth' in tln-ir |< >wer 
 
 a- tho i ' > ol </. s'tni/. We are bound to our e..unt i , ' i i ,,,!, s 
 
 '', ami an aee ;- : ' 1 1 1 . ! a- < ::t i- tantaim >u 1 1 ' t > an iii- 
 
 ':. Me that oll'i'r- to . 1 i 1 1 T -hall 1 an r',.>- i n 
 
 : ami tin' fear- ( -niltv < 'ain -hall In' f iltilled on 1> : ..! - 
 
 w In .o\ . r nn ' hi in v' / ' ' .vA / v li i in." I'ji. !i.V .m. 
 
 "Wo I . . I; wuli -u].i-r-t it'n. u- r.-\.u. -n. ii]i..n tin- :n' in! ! 
 i lai'-o 1 a_. . iin 1 \n ;th a -uiii-riaii. m- -".:,! \ '. ' ' -. , 1 . > _ 
 
 
 
 . . We 
 
 -ers m_ r |>rnituri - '.I our n'.s u a \ a:nt 
 
 a- w oil a- mir- ; ami t! ' i 
 
 re\ er.'iiee LTrav-ln :i- 1 * I 1 ti . tl . ' : bi. . i " ' . a i wit n 
 
 li l 1 ' oji.i ' - \. . . ! at ve- 
 
 il r-ti-p ol ilu-t : -iml 
 h it our / ' in'
 
 S6 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 they show, by neglecting to follow them to their legi- 
 timate conclusions, that they have not understood 
 their full meaning ; if it do not rather illustrate the 
 view already noticed, that in metaphysics our assent 
 is secured, not to general propositions as such, but 
 to their particular applications ; and that it is not 
 in the laying down of first principles that important 
 truths are exhibited to the world, but in those sub- 
 sidiary expositions by which the discoverer endeavours 
 to show their application. 
 
 The subsequent history of Hume's theory of Cause 
 and Effect, is a marked illustration of the danger of 
 bringing forward as an argument against theories 
 purely metaphysical, the statement that they are 
 dangerous to religion. It is difficult to see where 
 there is a difference between adducing that argument 
 in the sphere of natural philosophy, from which it has 
 been long scouted by common consent, and bringing it 
 forward as an answer to the theories of the metaphy- 
 sician. In either case it is a threat, which, in the days 
 of Galileo, bore the terror of corporal punishment, and 
 in the present day carries the threat of unpopularity, to 
 the person against whom it is used. 1 If any one should 
 
 1 " Had T done but half as much as he [JIume] in labouring to 
 subvert principles which ought ever to bo hold sacred, 1 know not 
 whether the friends of truth would have granted me any indulgence, 
 I am sure they ought not. Let iue bo treated with the lenity 
 due to a good citizen no longer than 1 act as becomes one." Beattie's 
 Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth, &c. p. 20. 
 
 On this Priestley says, " Certainly the obvious construction of this 
 passage is, that Mr. Hume ought not to be treated with the indul- 
 gence and lenity duo to a good citizen, but ought to be punished as 
 a bad one. And what is this but, what a Bonner and a Gardiner 
 might have put into the preamble of an order for his execution. . . 
 1 for my part am truly pleased with such publications as those of 
 Mr. Hume, and I do not think it requires any great sagacity or 
 strength of mind, to see that such writings must be of great service
 
 TRK.V1 ISC l'l' lit. MAN NATI'KK. 
 
 S7 
 
 suppose that lie finds lurkinir " the speculations of 
 some metaphysical writer, opinions from which it may 
 he inferred that lie is not possessed of the hopes and 
 consolations of the ( 'hristian, humanity to the unhappy 
 
 author should surest that he ought rather to 1"' pitied 
 than condemned, and respect for the religious feelings 
 of others should teach that there is no occasion to 
 endeavour, hy ;i lahorious pleading, to demonstrate that 
 a man who has said nothing against religion is in reality 
 an enemy to Christianity. They are surely no enlight- 
 ened friends to religion, who maintain that the suppres- 
 sion of inquiry as to the material or the immaterial 
 world, is favourable to the cause of revealed truth. The 
 blasphemer who raises his voice offensively and conten- 
 tiously against what his fellow citizens held sacred, in- 
 vokes the pid die WTath. and is no just olject of sympathy. 
 The extent of his punishment is regretted only when, 
 hy its vindictive' excess, it is liahle to excite retaliatory 
 attacks from the same (juarter. I>ut the speculative 
 philosopher, who does not di recti v interfere with the 
 religion of Ins nciiiiihours, should he left to the peace- 
 ful pursuit of his inquiries; and those who. instead ot 
 in. t-t i t i LT him hy fair argument, cry out irreliu'i'n. and 
 call in the moh to their aid. should reflect first, whether 
 it is absolutely certain that they are riidit in their 
 c< nclusion. that his inquiries, if carried out, would he 
 inimical to religion whether some mind more acute 
 and philosophical than their own. mav not either finally 
 d'uti' thf si'i'j>tical philosopher'-; argument, or prove 
 
 !hl IWi ;il, .1. Tli.-v li:i\." M.-.l 
 
 '!:. - \r, r\ \ , |- I; ,'V |] - . , i r , .. Ill i \" to 
 
 ]< !..: !.! u:i,l, v-[. . .1 i! i r '<# 
 
 i n 'i<j\" ' 
 
 1 r.X:nni::atio!i <if Or. I" IV 1 :.,..:;.. \.- 1 >r. I ( v. '- 1! -..y..v. ;.:.! l>! 
 \v .;>:'- A]'i'i':il. V. <. 177).
 
 88 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 that it is not inimical to religion; and secondly, whether 
 they are not likely to be themselves the greatest foes 
 to religion, by holding that it requires such defence, 
 and the practical blasphemers, by proclaiming that 
 religion is in danger ? 
 
 Kant, the most illustrious opponent of Hume, in 
 allusion to those who have appealed against him to 
 our religious feelings, asks, what the man is doing 
 that we should meddle with him ; says he is but trying 
 the strength of human reason, and bids us leave him 
 to combat with those who are giving him specimens 
 of the fabric on which to try his skill tells us to wait 
 and see who will produce one too strong to be broken 
 to pieces and not cry treason, and appeal to the 
 angry multitude, who are strangers to these refined 
 reasonings, to rush in. Shall we ask reason to give 
 us lights, and prescribe beforehand what they are to 
 show us ? x " The observation of human blindness and 
 weakness," says Hume himself, " is the result of all 
 philosophy, and meets us at every turn, in spite of 
 our endeavours to elude or avoid it." A solemn say- 
 ing, and characteristic of one who lias done more than 
 any other man to show the feebleness of poor human 
 reason, and to teach man that lie is not all sufficient 
 to himself. 
 
 Those revelations in astronomy and geology, the 
 first glimmerings of which made the timid if not 
 doubting friends of their cause tremble, have enlarged 
 year by year in rapid progression ; but revealed 
 religion is not less firm on her throne ; and many of 
 those who held that Hume's theory of Cause and 
 Effect was inimical to revelation, lived to see how 
 startlingly that argument could be turned against 
 themselves. It has been well observed by Dugald 
 
 ' ('ritik dcr reinon Wrnunft, (Methodeiilelire,) 7th ed. p. 5?1.
 
 .llr. :7. TREATISE OF HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 89 
 
 Stewart, that this theory if, the most effectual confu- 
 tation of tin 1 gloomy materialism of Spinoza, "as it 
 lays the axe to the very root from which Spinozisni 
 springs." "The cardinal principle,'" he say-, "on which 
 the whole of that system turns is, thai all events, 
 physical and moral, are n<rt$stirili/ linked together as 
 causes and etl'ects : from which principle all the 
 most alarming conclusions adopted by Spinoza follow 
 as uiiavoidable and manifest corollaries. Hut if it 
 he true, as Mr. Hume contends, and as most philo- 
 sophers now admit, that physical causes and etl'ects 
 are known to us merely as autra<_bnts and fnnsrijiiinfs; 
 still more if it be true that the word urcrssitj/, as 
 employed in this discussion, is altogether unmeaning 
 and insignificant, the whole system of Spinoza is 
 nothing better than a rope of sand, and the very 
 proposition which it professes to demonstrate is 
 incomprehensible by our faculties." 1 
 
 It will be remembered how signally, in the (ques- 
 tion in the (Jeneral Assembly of the Church of 
 Scotland, as to Sir .John Leslie's professorship, the 
 argument of irreligion was retaliated ; and it was 
 shown that, in the theory of an existing machinery 
 in nature enabling the universe to proceed in its 
 regular course, the cause having within it the adequate 
 power for producing its effect, the omnipresence of a 
 hoity was dispensed with, and there was substituted 
 fur the all-pervading influence of a superior wisdom, 
 a mere material ma el due, having within itself the 
 elements of its own regular motion. Thus, in instances 
 where writers have claimed credit for having aided 
 the cause of religion by carrying out the principles of 
 natural theology, this merit has in many cases, and 
 among certain classes of devout religious thinkers. 
 1 Pivliiuinurv I)i--< , rt:itiuii to t!io I\a<'i/ch'i><.iJux JJrit*i)inic<t, 210.
 
 90 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 been sternly denied them ; and it has been said that 
 their labours are rather adverse than favourable to 
 revealed religion, because, through their tendency to 
 make people believe in an established order in nature, 
 by which causes produce their effects according to 
 a fixed system, they have the effect of making mankind 
 forget the existence of a revealed, omnipresent Deity, 
 whose all-competent superintendence regulates the 
 world, and they supply a religion independent of the 
 religion of revelation. 
 
 Perhaps in this little history we may find an illus- 
 tration of the view, that the greatest service which 
 the Treatise has done to philosophy is that purely 
 incidental one of teaching human reason its own 
 weakness of showing how easily the noblest fabric 
 of human thought may be undermined, by a destroying 
 agency of power not greater than that of the con- 
 structive genius which has raised it. In this respect 
 it has done to philosophy the invaluable service of 
 teaching philosophers their own fallibility. In all 
 the departments of thought, and not only in the 
 world of thought but in that of action, the spirit of 
 human infallibility is the greatest obstacle to truth 
 and goodness. Whether it appear to protect a 
 system which the thinker has framed for himself, or 
 assume the more modest shape of maintaining, that 
 among conflicting systems he has made choice of that 
 which is absolutely and certainly right, while all 
 others which in any way differ from it are as abso- 
 lutely and certainly wrong ; this offspring of the 
 pride of human intellect is an equally dangerous 
 enemy of human improvement; and to have contributed 
 to its downfal is of itself no small achievement for 
 one mind. 
 
 Such are a few remarks on the matter of the first
 
 Ki. L'7. TliKATISK OF HUMAN NATUHK. 
 
 1)1 
 
 part of the ''Treatise of II innan Nature" given not by 
 any means as an analysis of the doctrines then' 
 taught, but merely as an attempt to characterize 
 them by their prominent features. It w ill naturally 
 le expected that a similar attempt should he made to 
 eharaeteri/.e the form in which these doctrines were 
 promulgated. As to the style of the Treatise, it 
 j, ,-.-;('>-, vs the clearness, flexibility, and simplicity 
 that distinguish the maturity of its author's literary 
 career, though not quite in all the perfection in which 
 they afterwards attended his pen. There are occa- 
 sional Scoticisms a defect which he took infinite 
 pains to cure, hut of which he was never entirely rid. 
 I ie uses a few obsolete and now harsh sounding tonus of 
 expression, from which lie afterwards abstained : such 
 as the elliptical combination 'tis, for it is. Here, ami 
 in the liist editions of his 1 1 i story, he frequently neglects 
 the increment on the perfect tense, as by saying, * 1 
 have forgot." instead of, I have forgotten ; '' I have 
 wrote," instead of I have written. 
 
 The Treatise has that happy equality of flight, which 
 distinguishes the author's maturer productions. There 
 is no attempt to soar, and none of those ambitious 
 inequalities which often deform the works of young 
 authors. His imagination and language seem indeed 
 to have been kept permanently chained down by the 
 character of his inquiries. His constant aim is to 
 make his meaning clear: and in the subtleties of a 
 now and intricate system of metaphysics, he seems to 
 have felt that there lay upon him so heavy a, responsi- 
 bility to make use on all occasions of the (dearest and 
 simplest word-, that any llijjit of imagination or elo- 
 quence would be ;i dangerous experiment. 
 
 There is a corresponding absence of pedantic orna- 
 ment. A voumj writer who has read much, is
 
 92 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 generally more anxious to show his learning and in- 
 formation than his own power of thought. With many 
 the defect lasts through maturer years, and they 
 write as if to find a good thing in some unknown 
 author, were more meritorious than to have invented 
 it. Montesquieu, whom Hume has been accused of 
 imitating, carried this defect to a vice, and often dis- 
 torted the order of his reasoning, that he might intro- 
 duce an allusion to something discovered in the course 
 of his peculiar learning. That Hume had read much 
 in philosophy before he undertook his great work, 
 cannot be doubted, but he does not drag his readers 
 through the minutiae of his studies, and is content 
 with giving them results. In many respects, indeed, 
 one would have desired to know more of his appre- 
 ciation of his predecessors. The name of Aristotle is, 
 it is believed, not once mentioned in the work, and 
 there are only some indirect allusions to him, and 
 these not very respectful, in casual remarks on the 
 opinions of the Peripatetics. One would have expected 
 from Hume a kindred sympathy with the great 
 master of intellectual philosophy, and a respectful 
 appreciation of one whose inquiries were conducted 
 with a like acute severity, but wdiose mind took so 
 much more wide and comprehensive a grasp of the 
 sources of human knowledge. 
 
 It has been often observed, that a person so original 
 in his opinions as Hume, ought to have made a new 
 nomenclature for the new things which he taught. But 
 hehas no philosophical nomenclature; he appears indeed 
 to have despised that useful instrument of method, 
 and means of communicating clear ideas to learners. 
 This want has prevented his system from being clearly 
 and fully learned by the student, while it lias at the 
 same time probably made his works less repulsive to the
 
 TREATISE "!' HI MAX NATURE. 
 
 U \ 
 
 general reader, lie seems indeed hardly to have been 
 conscious of the advantage to all philosophy, of uni- 
 formity of expression. Isine; the words "force," 
 'vivacity," solidity." "firmness." and *' steadiness," 
 all with the same meaning, he speaks of this usa^e as 
 a " variety of terms which may seem so unphiloso- 
 phical : " and then observes, more in the style of one 
 who is tired of philosophical precision than of a 
 philosopher, " Provided we a^ree ahout the thin-j. 'tis 
 needless to dispute ahout the terms." 
 
 This is a kindred defect to that absence of method 
 which has been already taken notice of. A fixed 
 nomenclature is a beacon against repetition and dis- 
 cursiveness, lint the Treatise has no pretension to 
 be a work of which lie who omits paying attention 
 to any part, thereby drops a link in a chain, the loss 
 of which will make the winder appear broken and 
 inconsistent. There are. it is true, places where the 
 essential parts of the author's philosophy are developed, 
 the omission of which would render that which fol- 
 lows hard to be understood, but in general each 
 department of the work is intelligible in itself. Its 
 author appears to have composed it in separate frag- 
 ments; holding in view, while he was writing each 
 part, the evncral principle of his theory, but not 
 taking it for granted that the reader is so far master 
 of that principle, as not to require it to be generally 
 explained in connexion with the particular matter 
 under consideration, lie seems indeed rather desirous 
 to dwell on it. as something that the reader may 
 have seen in the earlier part of the work, but mav have 
 neglected to keep in his mind while lie read- the other 
 parts. I'erhaps the true model of every philo>ophical 
 work is to be found in the usual systems of ^eometrv, 
 \v!c re, whatever is once proposed ami proved, is held a
 
 94 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 fixed part of knowledge, and is never repeated ; but as 
 far as psychological reasoning is from the certainty 
 of geometrical, so distant perhaps, will ever be the 
 precision of its method from that of geometry. 
 
 It may safely be pronounced, that no book of its age 
 presents itself to us at this day, more completely free 
 from exploded opinions in the physical sciences. With 
 the exception perhaps of occasional allusions to "animal 
 spirits," as a moving influence in the human body, the 
 author's careful sifting sceptical mind seems, without 
 having practically tested them, to have turned away 
 from whatever doctrines were afterwards destined to 
 fall before the test of experiment and induction. It 
 was not that he was so much of a natural philosopher 
 himself as to be able to test their truth or falsehood, 
 but that with a wholesome jealousy, characteristic of 
 the mind in which the Disquisition on Miracles w T as 
 working itself into shape, he avoided them as things 
 neither coming within the scope of his own analysis, 
 nor bearing the marks of having been satisfactorily 
 established by those whose more peculiar province it 
 was to investigate their claims to be believed. At a 
 later date, his friend D'Alembert admitted judicial 
 astrology and alchemy asbranches of natural philosophy 
 in his " Systcme Figure des Connoissances Iluinaines." 
 Cudworth, and even the scrutinizing Locke, dealt 
 gravely with matters doomed afterwards to be ranked 
 among popular superstitions, and Sir Thomas Browne, 
 in some respects a sceptic, eloquently defended more 
 "vulgar errors" than he exposed, llobbcs was, in 
 the midst of the darkest scepticism, a practical 
 believer in the actual presence of the spirits of the 
 air; and Johnson, whose name, however, it may 
 scarcely be fair to class in this list, as he did not pro- 
 fess, except for conversational triumph, to be a reducer
 
 i:i.-7. TUKAT1SK <H-' Ilf.MAN NATL'HK. 
 
 !.*. 
 
 ami deinolisher of unfounded I > 1 i -t's. alon^ with his 
 partial admission of the t x i .- 1 < i u of spectres, has 
 left behind him many dogmatic announcements of 
 physical doctrines, which tho progress of science has 
 now lon<^ buried under its newer systems. 
 
 It is 1 v no means maintained that Hume was be- 
 yoml his a^e or even on a par with its seientitie 
 ornaments, in physical knowledge; but merely that 
 he showed a judicious caution in distinguishing, in his 
 puhlished work, those j>arts of physical philosophy 
 which had hern admitted within the hounds of true 
 and permanent science, from those which were .-till in 
 a state of mere hypothesis. His knowledge of physi- 
 cal science was probably not very extensive. A small 
 portion of a collection of his note- on subj-ets that 
 attracted his attention hear on this subject. The 
 collection from which they are taken will be noticed 
 in the next chapter: but a- those which are set apart 
 from the others, and are headed "Natural Philosophy," 
 ,-eem to have been written at an earlier period, than 
 tiie rest of the collection, and are appropriate to the 
 present subject, they are here uiven. It is not ex- 
 pected that they will awaken in the natural philoso- 
 pher anv u'reat respect for the extent of Hume's: in- 
 (piiries in this department of knowledge. 
 
 NAR KAI. I'HIIJ isOI'IIV. 
 
 " A ship sails always swiftest when her sides yield 
 a little. 
 
 I'wo pieces of timber, rest inn' upon one another, 
 will bear as much as both of them laid across at the 
 distance of i heir opening. 
 
 Calcined antiiuonv more heavy than before. 1 
 
 A .;.'!i;itic Ci v:.<l "I 1 "" , tli.il tli! ; tI:-> _ n:i . t" tin* 1 1 
 
 :.;.
 
 96 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 " A proof that natural philosophy has no truth in 
 it, is, that it has only succeeded in things remote, as 
 the heavenly bodies ; or minute, as light. 
 
 " Tis probable that mineral waters are not formed 
 by running over beds of minerals, but by imbibing the 
 vapours which form these minerals, since we cannot 
 make mineral waters with all the same qualities. 
 
 " Hot mineral waters come not a-boilino- sooner 
 than cold water. 
 
 " Hot iron put into cold water soon cools, but be- 
 comes hot ao-ain. 
 
 "There falls usually at Paris, in June, July, and 
 August, as much rain as in the other nine months. 
 
 " This seems to be a strong presumption against 
 medicines, that they are mostly disagreeable, and out 
 of the common use of life. For the weak and un- 
 certain operation of the common food, &c. is well 
 known by experience. These others are the better 
 objects of quackery." 
 
 The system of philosophy to which the foregoing 
 remarks apply, was published when its author was 
 twenty-six years old, and he completed it in volun- 
 tary exile, and in that isolation from the counsel and 
 sympathy of early friends, which is implied by a resi- 
 dence in an obscure spot in a foreign country. While 
 he was framing his metaphysical theory, Hume appears 
 to have permitted no confidential adviser to have access 
 to the workings of his inventive genius ; and as little 
 did he take for granted any of the reasonings and 
 opinions of the illustrious dead, as seek counsel of the 
 living. Nowhere is there a work of genius more com- 
 pletely authenticated, as the produce of the solitary 
 labour of one mind ; and when we reflect on the bold- 
 ness and greatness of the undertaking, we have a
 
 /Er. 27 
 
 TUEATISK Or IIl'MAN NATUUK. 
 
 U7 
 
 picture of self-reliance calculated to inspire both awe 
 
 and respect. The system seems to he characteristic 
 of a lonely mind of one which, though it had no 
 enmity with its fellows, had y<-t little sympathy with 
 them. It has few of the features that characterize a 
 partaker in the ordinary hopes and fears, the joys and 
 sorrows, of humanity; little to u'ive impulse to the ex- 
 citement of the enthusiast ; nothing to dry the tear of 
 tin. 1 mourner. It exposes to poor human reason her 
 own weakness and nakedness, and supplies her with no 
 extrinsic support or protection. Such a work, coming 
 from a man at the time of life when our sympathies 
 with the world are strongest, and our anticipations 
 brightest, would seem to indicate a mind rendered 
 callous by hard-hip and disappointment. Put it was 
 not so with Hume. His coldness and isolation were 
 in his theories alone; as a man he was frank", warm, 
 and friendly. I ut the same impulses which eave him 
 resolution to adopt so hold a step, seem at the same time 
 to have armed him with a hard contempt for the opinions 
 of the rest of mankind. Hence, though his philosophy 
 is sceptical, his manner is frequently dogmatical, even 
 to intolerance ; and while illustrating the feebleness 
 of all human reasoning, he scorns as if he felt an innate 
 infallibility in his own. He afterwards regretted this 
 peculiarity; and in a letter, written apparently at 
 an advanced period of life, we find him deprecating 
 not only the tone of the Inquiry, but many of its 
 opinions. He says : 
 
 " Allow me to tell you. that I never as>.-rt d so 
 absurd a proposition as tJtul umi ll , > /'' - 
 ii-illm nl n i-iiiim . I only maintained that our certaint\ 
 of the falsehood of that proposition proceeded neither 
 from intuition nor demonstration, but from an 
 
 \ < >L. i. n
 
 gg THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1730. 
 
 source. That Ccesar existed, that there is such an 
 island as Sicily, for these propositions, I affirm, we 
 have no demonstration nor intuitive proof, would you 
 infer that I deny their truth, or even their certainty ? 
 There are many different kinds of certainty ; and some 
 of them as satisfactory to the mind, though perhaps 
 not so regular as the demonstrative kind. 
 
 "Where a man of sense mistakes my meaning, I 
 own I am angry ; but it is only with myself, for having 
 expressed my meaning so ill, as to have given occasion 
 to the mistake. 
 
 " That you may see I would no way scruple of 
 owning my mistakes in argument, I shall acknowledge 
 (what is infinitely more material) a very great mistake 
 in conduct, viz. my publishing at all the ' Treatise of 
 Human Nature,' a book which pretended to innovate 
 in all the sublimest paths of philosophy, and which I 
 composed before I was five-and-twenty ; above all, 
 the positive air which prevails in that book, and which 
 may be imputed to the ardour of youth, so much dis- 
 pleases me, that I have not patience to review it. 
 But what success the same doctrines, better illus- 
 trated and expressed, may meet with, adhuc sab judice 
 lis est. The arguments have been laid before the 
 world, and by some philosophical minds have been 
 attended to. I am willing to be instructed by the 
 public ; though human life is so short, that I despair 
 of ever seeing the decision. I wish 1 had always 
 confined myself to the more easy parts of erudition ; 
 but you will excuse me from submitting to a pro- 
 verbial decision, let it even be in Greek." 1 
 
 1 I liaA'c been favoured by Mr. Chambers -with au ol<l copy of 
 this letter, in which it is titled as a letter to Gilbert Stuart. The 
 original is among the MSS. R.S.E. where there is a note in Baron 
 Hume's handwriting, with a supposition that it was addressed to 
 Dr. Traill.
 
 .'Et. 2: 
 
 TREATISE ON THE PASSIONS. 
 
 0!) 
 
 The reader, who passes from tie* first l>ook of the 
 Treatise. 011 "the Understanding. "to the second, on" the 
 Passions," will, in ninny instances, feci like one who is 
 awakened from a dream, or as it', after penetrating in 
 solitude and darkness into the unseen world of 
 thought, lie had come forth to the cheerful company 
 of mankind, and were holding converse with a shrewd 
 and penetrating ohserver of the passing' world. As 
 llnnie was never totally insensihle to the elements of 
 social enjoyment, hut had indeed an ample sym- 
 pathy with the }<>}> and sorrows of his fellow men, 
 lie appears occasionally, in the midst of his most 
 suhtle speculations, to experience a desire to hurst 
 from the dark prison of solitude, into which he had 
 voluntarily immured himself, and ha>k in the sunshine 
 of the world. " Man." he says, in his Treatise, " is the 
 creature- of the universe who has the most ardent d< >ire 
 of society, and is fitted for it hy the most advantages. 
 We can form no wi>h which has not a reference to 
 society. A perfect solitude is. perhaps, the n'reate.-d 
 punishment we can suffer. livery pleasure languishes 
 when enjoyed apart from company, and every pain 
 hecomes more cruel and intolerahle." In a remark- 
 aide passage, in which, after having lone; proceeded in 
 enthusiasm with his solitan Iahours, he si ems to have 
 stopped for a moment, ami recall inn' within himself the 
 feeling and sympathies of an ordinary man. to have 
 1 .' cted on the scope and tendency of the system in 
 a. \ 1 . i - 1 1 h<- was involving himself", he tlm- e\pn-.--es 
 him-'lf. ree;arliii^ its gloomy tendency, and the , \\ ,; 
 i; ha> in ih -troyim-;. in the mind of its fahrieator. tl.o>e 
 stn vs of sat isfacton heiiel' in w hi eh it i- -o comfort aide 
 for the wearied intellect to lind a re-t inu'-place : 
 
 I', f. ire I launch mil int" ih'i.-e imiih 1 1 < d< plli- nf phi] 
 r-hv whi'-h lin hefmu n\>\ I find niv.-elt' hi'lir.-d to .-(;> ::
 
 100 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1730. 
 
 moment in my present station, and to ponder that voyage 
 which I have undertaken, and which undoubtedly requires the 
 utmost art and industry to be brought to a happy conclusion. 
 Methinks I am like a man, who, having struck on many 
 shoals, and having narrowly escaped shipwreck in passing a 
 small frith, has yet the temerity to put out to sea in the same 
 leaky weather-beaten vessel, and even carries his ambition so 
 far as to think of compassing the globe under these disad- 
 vantageous circumstances. My memory of past errors and 
 perplexities makes me diffident for the future. The wretched 
 condition, weakness, and disorder of the faculties, I must 
 employ in my inquiries, increase my apprehensions. And 
 the impossibility of amending or correcting these faculties, 
 reduces me almost to despair, and makes me resolve to perish 
 on the barren rock, on which I am at present, rather than 
 venture myself upon that boundless ocean which runs out 
 into immensity. This sudden view of my danger strikes mo 
 with melancholy ; and, as 'tis usual for that passion, abovo 
 all others, to indulge itself, I cannot forbear feeding my 
 despair with all those desponding reflections which the 
 present subject furnishes me with in such abundance. 
 
 I am first affrighted and confounded with that forlorn 
 solitude in which I am placed in my philosophy, and fancy 
 myself some strange uncouth monster, who, not being able 
 to mingle and unite in society, has been expelled all human 
 commerce, and left utterly abandoned and disconsolate. 
 Fain would I run into the crowd for shelter and warmth, 
 but cannot prevail with myself to mix with such deformity. 
 1 call upon others to join me, in order to make a company 
 apart, but no one will hearken to me. Every one keeps at 
 a distance, and dreads that storm which beats upon me from 
 every side. 1 have exposed myself to the enmity of all 
 metaphysicians, logicians, mathematicians, and even theolo- 
 gians ; and can I wonder at the insults I must suffer I I 
 have declared my disapprobation of their systems ; and can 
 I be surprised if they should express a hatred of mine and of 
 my person ? When I look abroad, T foresee on every side 
 dispute, contradiction, anger, calumny, and detraction. When 
 I turn my eye inward, I find nothing- but doubt and igno- 
 rance. All the world conspires to oppo,-_e and contradict mc \
 
 A'.i. 27, 
 
 OF T1IK PASSIONS. 
 
 101 
 
 though such is niv weakness, that I fool all my opinions 
 loosen and fall of themselves, when unsupported by tho 
 approbation of others. Fvcry sti p 1 tako is with hesitation, 
 ami every new reflection make-; ine dread an error and 
 ab-urdity in my reasonim;. 
 
 For with what < > 1 1 1 i . 1 < n < . ran I venture uj)on such hi>ld 
 enterpri-e-'. when, heside those numberless infirmities peculiar 
 to nivsrlf, 1 find so manv which are < < - 1 1 i 1 1 1 < l i to human 
 nature.' Can 1 he sure that, in leaving all e-tablished 
 opinion-, | am following truth- and by what criterion shall 
 I distinguish In r, even if fortune should at last guide nio on 
 hor foot.-tfps i After the most accurate and exact of my 
 reasonings I can _ r ive no reason why I should assent to it, 
 and feel nothing but a ttruiiu propensity to consider object:* 
 strviiohi in that view under which they appear to me. 1 
 
 Occasionally, seduced by sonic impulse of playful 
 candour, we find him giving us admission as it wore into 
 the chamber of his thoughts, and desiring that some one 
 would drag him into the common circle of the world. 
 When there, he consents for a .short time to comport 
 himself as a man, is social and sympathetic with his 
 kind, and pleased with what is passing around ; when 
 anon the ambition which had prompted his solitary 
 musings stirs his soul, tells him that in active life and 
 the world at large, the sphere of his true greatness is 
 not placed, and prompts him to reimprison himself, 
 and pursue the great aim of his existence. 
 
 But what have I lure said, that reflection? very refined 
 and metaphyseal have little ur no influence upon us '. This 
 opinion I ean scarce forbear retracting, and condemning from 
 my pre- 1 1,1 t. el in:: and experience. The i,,t. n.<, view of t hese 
 manifold contradiction- and imperfeetions in human r< as. in 
 has -o wroii-jht upon nie, and leaod mv brain, that I am 
 readv to reject all belief and iva-onin_ r . and can lo..k up.-n no 
 opinion even as more probable or likely than another. 
 Where am I. or what ' From what cause- do I derive mv 
 
 1 '. i. part iv. -cot. ?.
 
 102 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1739. 
 
 existence, and to what condition shall I return? Whose 
 favour shall I court, and whose anger must I dread \ What 
 beings surround me ? and on whom have I any influence, or 
 who have any influence on me? I am confounded with all 
 these questions, and begin to fancy myself in the most de- 
 plorable condition imaginable, environed with the deepest 
 darkness, and utterly deprived of the use of every member 
 and faculty. 
 
 Most fortunately it happens, that since Reason is incapable 
 of dispelling these clouds, Nature herself suffices to that 
 purpose, and cures me of this philosophical melancholy and 
 delirium, either by relaxing this bent of mind, or by some 
 avocation, and lively impression of my senses, which obliterate 
 all these chimeras. I dine, I play a game of backgammon, 
 I converse, and am merry with my friends ; and when, after 
 three or four hours 1 amusement, I would return to these 
 speculations, they appear so cold, and strained, and ridiculous, 
 that I cannot And in my heart to enter into them any farther. 
 Here, then, I find myself absolutely and necessarily de- 
 termined to live, and talk, and act like other people in the 
 common affairs of life. But notwithstanding that my 
 natural propensity, and the course of my animal spirits and 
 passions reduce me to this indolent belief in the general 
 maxims of the world, I still feel such remains of my former 
 disposition, that I am ready to throw all my books and papers 
 into the lire, and resolve never more to renounce the plea- 
 sures of life for the sake of reasoning and philosophy. For 
 those are my sentiments in that splenetic humour which 
 governs me at present. I may, nay I must yield to the 
 current of nature, in submitting to my senses and understand- 
 ing ; and in this blind submission 1 show most perfectly my 
 sceptical disposition and principles. -But does it follow that 
 ] must strive against the current of nature, winch leads me 
 to indolence and pleasure ; that I must seclude myself, in 
 some measure, from the commerce and society of men, which 
 is so agreeable ; and that 1 must torture my brain with 
 subtil tics and sophistries, at the very time that 1 cannot 
 satisfy myself concerning the reasonableness of so painful an 
 application, nor have any tolerable prospect of arriving by its 
 means at truth and certainty ? Under what obligation do 1
 
 -i:r. ^7 
 
 OF II! i; PASSIONS. 
 
 on 
 
 lie of mnkiiiLT sut-li :in abuse >>i time I And to what end can 
 
 it serve, either fur i!i.' .- i-\ i nf mankind, or fr my own 
 private interest '. No : if 1 rnn.-t he a f. .], as all those who 
 reason . 1- I . I i . \- . any t hiiij,- r, rt,i'ihi are. tnv follies shall at 
 h-a-t he natural and a 'reeahl,.. Where I strive airain-t mv 
 
 ineliiiat'mii. 1 ] i .- 1 II ha\ a _ 1 reason fi.r my resistance ; ami 
 
 will no more he led :; | ;._- into smb dreary solitudes, 
 
 and i'"ii.li ii.i--.i_--. a> 1 have hitherto met with. 
 
 These are the sentiments ,,f my spleen and indolence ; and 
 indeed I must confess, [hat philosophy has nothing to oppose 
 
 to them, and exj ts a victory more from the returns of a 
 
 sei'i.,u- _T< x nl-1 iu ii loured disposition, than from the force of 
 reason and conviction. In all the incidents of life, we ouirht 
 still to preserve our seepi iei> m. If we believe that lire warms. 
 or water refreshes, "tis only because it costs us too much 
 pain- to think otherwise. Nav. if we are philosophers, it 
 ouidit only to he upon sceptical principles, and from an in- 
 clination which we feel to the em plo vi ti M ' ourselves alter that 
 manner. Where reason j- liv.-lv, and mixes itself with -ome 
 propensity, it oti:;ht to be assented to. Win re it does not. 
 it never can have miv title to operate upon us. 
 
 At the time, therefor,., that I am tired with amusement 
 and company, and have indulged a r>r, ri, in mv chamber, 
 or in a solitary walk by a river -ide, I feel mv mind all col- 
 led '1 within itself, and am naturally (ifliiixl to carry mv 
 view into all tho-e subjects, ah uit which I have met with >o 
 many disputes in the course of my reading and conversation. 
 I cannot forbear havin_" a curiosity to be ;. apiainted with tin 1 
 
 principles of moral ^ 1 and evil, the nature and foundation 
 
 of _-o\ ernnieiit. and the cause of those several passions and 
 inclinations which actuate and govern me. I am iima-v to 
 think I approve of i,m- object, and disapprove of another; 
 call one thim: beautiful, and another del'urnied ; deeiile mn- 
 
 eernin_' truth and fal-eh 1. reason and t 1 1 \ . without kieow- 
 
 !!i_;' upon what principles | proc,-,!. I am cucerm-d for the 
 e uiditioii of the haried worbl, whj -h lir- under su> h a <\< 
 pi ora hi e i_ieirance in all t he-,- part iciilars. I n el an ambit em 
 to arise in nit o| contributing to the instruction o| mankind, 
 and of acquiring a nan..' by mv invention- and discoveries. 
 Tiiese sentiments spring up naturally in my present dispo-i
 
 104 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738-1730. 
 
 tion ; and should I endeavour to banish them, by attaching 
 myself to any other business or diversion, I feel I should be 
 a loser in point of pleasure ; and this is the origin of my 
 philosophy. 1 
 
 The acuteness which the solitary metaphysician 
 brought to his aid when he chose to contemplate 
 mankind, is not the least interesting feature in his 
 book. That he could have seen much of men, since 
 his life had been but brief and his converse with books 
 great, is not probable ; yet Chesterfield and Roche- 
 foucauld did not observe men more clearly and truly, 
 though they may have done so more extensively. The 
 following sketch of the mental features of a vain man, 
 would not have been unworthy of Theophrastus. 
 
 Every thing belonging to a vain man is the best that is 
 any where to be found. His houses, equipage, furniture, 
 clothes, horses, hounds, excel all others in his conceit ; and 
 'tis easy to observe, that from the least advantage in any of 
 these, he draws a new subject of pride and vanity. His wine, 
 if you'll believe him, has a finer flavour than any other ; his 
 cookery is more exquisite ; his table more orderly ; his ser- 
 vant more expert ; the air in which he lives more healthful ; 
 the soil he cultivates more fertile ; his fruits ripen earlier, 
 and to greater perfection ; such a thing is remarkable for its 
 novelty; such another for its antiquity: this is the work- 
 manship of a famous artist ; that belonged to such a prince or 
 great man ; all objects, in a word, that arc useful, beautiful, 
 or surprising, or are related to such, may, by means of pro- 
 perty, give rise to tliis passion. These agree in giving pleasure, 
 and agree in nothing else. This alone is common to them, 
 and therefore must be the quality that produces the passion, 
 which is their common effect. 2 
 
 1 B. i. part iv. sect. ?. 2 B. ii. part i. sect. 10
 
 1(1 
 
 CHAPTKR 111. 
 I7:;0 1711. .i: T . -27 2[). 
 
 (.iters t-i hi- friemis after tin' puMieatioii of the fir-t aii.l soeonil volume of 
 t!:, Trr.it:-!' lirturn- to >. .' i.m.l - - 1 v t vt-j >l i 11 of hi- 11. ..'. ( 'lit : i-in 
 I ':.,- \\ urk- <! the l.< urn.'l " Charge atr:iiii.~t Hume of a-saulting the 
 {.uLli-hrr- i orre-jiomlenee with l'ranri- llutiht-on Seeks a situation 
 Connexion with Aiiam Smith- Publication of the thir.l volume of the 
 Treati.-e Account of it Hume'- not<.^ f hi- reading F.xtraet- from 
 hi- Note hooks. 
 
 r.MMKDiATKLY after the publication of his work we? 
 find Hume thus writiiiLT to Henrv Homo : 
 
 " Lvii't'jti, /' i-notri/ 1::. I?-"!!*. 
 "Sir. I thought to have wrote this from a place 
 nearer you than London, but have been detained here by 
 contrary winds, which have kept all ISenvick ships 
 from sailing, lis now a fortnight since my book 
 was published; and, besides many other considerations, 
 i thought it would contribute very much to my tran- 
 quillity, and might spare me many mortifications, to 
 l)e in the country while the success of the work was 
 doubtful. I am afraid 'twill remain so very long. 
 Those who arc accustomed to reflect on such abstract 
 subjects, are commonly full of prejudices: and those 
 who are unprejudiced are unacquainted with meta- 
 physical reasonings. My principles are also so remote 
 from all the vulgar sentiments on the subject, that 
 were they to take place, they would produce almost 
 a total alteration in philosophy ; and you know, revo- 
 lutions of this kind are not easily brought about. I 
 am voung enough jo see what will become of the
 
 ]06 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1730. 
 
 matter; but am apprehensive lest the chief reward 
 I shall have for some time will be the pleasure of 
 studying on such important subjects, and the appro- 
 bation of a few judges. Among the rest, you may 
 believe I aspire to your approbation; and next to that, 
 to your free censure and criticism. I shall present 
 }*ou with a copy as soon as I come to Scotland ; and 
 hope your curiosity, as well as friendship, will make 
 you take the pains of perusing it. 
 
 "If you know any body that is a judge, you would do 
 me a sensible pleasure in engaging him to a serious 
 perusal of the book. "lis so rare to meet with one 
 that will take pains on a book, that does not come 
 recommended by some great name or authority, that 
 I must confess I am as fond of meeting with such a 
 one as if I were sure of his approbation. I am, 
 however, so doubtful in that particular, that I have 
 endeavoured all I could to conceal my name ; though 
 I believe I have not been so cautious in this respect 
 as I ought to have been. 
 
 " I have sent the Bishop of Bristol 1 a copy, but 
 could not wait on him with your letter after he had 
 arrived at that dignity. At least I thought it would 
 be to no purpose after I began the printing. You '11 
 excuse the frailty of an author in writing so long 
 a letter about nothing but his own performances. 
 Authors have this privilege in common with lovers ; 
 and founded on the same reason, that they are both 
 besotted with a blind fondness of their object. I have 
 been upon my guard against this frailty ; but perhaps 
 this has rather turned to my prejudice. The reflec- 
 tion on our caution is apt to give us a more implicit 
 
 1 Dr. Butler was consecrated bishop, 3d December, 1739, and 
 was afterwards translated to tlic see of Durham, 16th October, 
 !7.'0. He died 16th June, 1752, in the 60th year of his age.
 
 a: i. 20. 
 
 RKCKPTION Or THE TRKATISK 
 
 07 
 
 confidence afterwards, when we come to form a 
 judgment. 1 am," <Sjc.' 
 
 To the same year we must attribute ;i letter from 
 Hume to Michael Kamsay, bearing no more precise 
 date than iTth February. lie says: -"As to 
 my.-elf, no alteration has happened to my fortune: 
 nor have 1 taken the least step towards it. 1 hope 
 things will be riper next winter; and I would not 
 aim at any tiling till 1 could judge of my success in 
 my grand undertaking, and see upon what footing 1 
 shall stand in the world. I am afraid, however, that 
 I shall not have any great success of a sudden. Such 
 performances make their way very heavily at first, 
 when they are not recommended by any great name 
 or authority." 
 
 In the Kime letter lie speaks of Kamsay as being 
 then a tutor in the Marchmont family, and oll'us him 
 this >ago and business-like advice : Should a living 
 fall to the gift of the Duchess of Marlborough, or any 
 other of your friends and patrons, 'twould have but 
 an ill air to say that the gentleman was in the South 
 of franco, and that he should be informed of the 
 matter. Kesides, you know how necessary a man's 
 presence is to <piicken his friends, to make them 
 unite their interests, and to save them the trouble of 
 contriving and thinking about his a Hairs. Many a 
 oik' may endeavour to serve you when you point out 
 the service you desire of them, who would not take 
 the pain- to find it out themselves."" 
 
 Marly in the year 17o.'>, desiring apparently to 
 await in retirement the elfect of his work on the mind 
 of the public, he proceeded to Scotland, and took up 
 
 'vil.-r's I. if.- nf K:n,i, -, i. :<0. 
 
 MS. K.S.K.
 
 108 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1739. 
 
 his residence at Ninewells, whence we find him writing 
 to Henry Home on 1st June. 
 
 " Dear Sir, You see I am better than my word, 
 having sent you two papers instead of one. I have 
 hints for two or three more, which I shall execute at 
 my leisure. I am not much in the humour of such 
 compositions at present, having received news from 
 London of the success of my Philosophy, which is 
 but indifferent, if I may judge by the sale of the book, 
 and if I may believe my bookseller. I am now out 
 of humour with myself; but doubt not, in a little 
 time, to be only out of humour with the world, like 
 other unsuccessful authors. After all, I am sensible 
 of my folly in entertaining any discontent, much more 
 despair, upon this account, since I could not expect 
 any better from such abstract reasoning ; nor, indeed, 
 did I promise myself much better. My fondness for 
 what I imagined new discoveries, made me overlook 
 all common rules of prudence ; and, having enjoyed 
 the usual satisfaction of projectors, 'tis but just I 
 should meet with their disappointments. However, 
 as 'tis observed with such sort of people, one project 
 generally succeeds another, I doubt not but in a day 
 or two I shall be as easy as ever, in hopes that truth 
 will prevail at last over the indifference and opposi- 
 tion of the world. 
 
 "You see I might at present subscribe myself your 
 most humble servant with great propriety : but, not- 
 withstanding, shall presume to call myself your most 
 affectionate friend as well as humble servant." x 
 
 His account of the success of his work in his "own 
 
 1 Tytler'* Life 'f Karnes, i. 03.
 
 A'a 
 
 IJIXKI'TION 01' TIIF. TltKATlSi:. 
 
 Ill) 
 
 lifo," is contained in these well-known .sentences : 
 " Never literary attempt was more unfortunate than my 
 'Treatise of Human Nature' It fell ilnul /,<>, n from 
 tlir prrss, without reaching sueh distinction as even to 
 e.veite a murmur anions the zealots." Hut lie was 
 never easily satisfied with the success of his works ; 
 and we know tiiat this one was not so entirely unno- 
 ticed by the periodical press, such as it then was, hut 
 that it called forth a lon<j review in the number for 
 November, 1739, of Tlir Ilisfnrjj <>f fhr Works <>/ // 
 J.rnnud, a periodical which may be said to have set 
 the example in Kneland, of systematic reviews of new 
 hooks. This review is written with considerable 
 spirit, and has a few pretty powerful strokes of 
 sarcasm as where, in relation to Hume's sceptical 
 examination of the results of the demonstrations of 
 the geometricians, the writer says. " 1 will have 
 nothing to do in the quarrel ; it' they cannot maintain 
 their demonstrations against his attacks, they may 
 even perish." The paper is of considerable leneth, 
 and it lias throughout a tone of clamorous jeering 
 and vulvar raillery that forcibly reminds one of the 
 writings of Warburton. hut it is the work of one 
 who respects the adversary he has taken arms against; 
 and, before leaving the subject, the writer nuikes a maid v 
 atonement for his wrath, saying of the Treatise, " It 
 bears, indeed, incontestable marks of a Lireat capacity. 
 of a soaring genius, but younu; and not yet thoroughly 
 jiractised. The >nhject is vast and noble as any that 
 ran e\ercise the understanding; but it requires a 
 very mature judgment to handle it as ln'i'oii:r.> its 
 dienity and im]>ortance : the utmost prudenee, tender- 
 ness, and delicacy are requisite to 1 1 1 i > desirable issue. 
 Time and use may ripen these <pialities in our author; 
 and we shall probably have reason to consider this.
 
 ] 10 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1739. 
 
 compared with his later productions, in the same 
 light as we view the juvenile works of Milton, or the 
 first manner of a Raphael or other celebrated painter." 
 
 Immediately after Hume's death, there appeared 
 in The London Review the following account of 
 the manner in which he had acknowledged the article 
 in The Works of the Learned: "It does not appear our 
 author had acquired, at this period of his life, that 
 command over his passions of which he afterwards 
 makes his boast. His disappointment at the public 
 reception of his ' Essay on Human Nature, ' had, 
 indeed, a violent effect on his passions in a particular 
 instance ; it not having dropped so dead born from 
 the press but that it was severely handled by the 
 reviewers of those times, in a publication entitled 
 The Works of the Learned. A circumstance this 
 which so highly provoked our young philosopher, 
 that he flew in a violent rage to demand satisfaction 
 of Jacob Robinson, the publisher, whom he kept, during 
 the paroxysm of his anger, at his sword's point, trem- 
 bling behind the counter lest a period should be put 
 to the life of a sober critic by a raving philosopher." 1 
 
 This statement is in a note to a Review of Hume's 
 " own life, " and it has after it the letters " Rev." 
 which serve to give it the attestation of William 
 Shakespeare Kenrick, the editor of The London 
 Review, and a man whose sole title to literary re- 
 membrance rests on the hardy effrontery and deadly 
 spite of his falsehoods. There is nothing in the story 
 to make it in itself incredible for Hume was far 
 from being that docile mass of imperturbability, which 
 so large a portion of the world have taken him for. 
 Rut the anecdote requires authentication; and has it 
 
 1 London Review, v. 200.
 
 JEi.'ltt. IN'TKUCOl'USK WITH lU'TCIIKSOX. m 
 
 not. Moreover, there are circumstances strongly 
 against its truth. 1 1 nine was in Scotland at the time 
 when the criticism on his work was published : lie 
 <li<l not visit London for some years afterwards ; and, 
 to believe the story, we must look upon it not as a 
 momentary ebullition of passion, but as a manifesta- 
 tion of Ionu'-tiva>ured resentment, a circumstance 
 inconsistent with his character, inconsistent with 
 human nature in general, and not in keeping with the 
 modified tone of dissatisfaction with the criticism, 
 evinced in his correspondence. 
 
 While Hume was preparing for the press the third 
 part of his "Treatise of Human Nature," on the sub- 
 ject of .Morals, brands Hutcheson, then professor of 
 moral philosophy in the university of (ilas^ow, was 
 enjoying a reputation in the philosophical world 
 scarcely inferior to that of either of his ereat contem- 
 poraries, lierkelev and \\ oltf. Krom the following 
 correspondence it will be seen that Hume submitted 
 the manuscript of his forthcoming volume to Hutehe- 
 soii s inspection: and he shows more inclination to 
 receive with deference the siiLTL'estions of that dis- 
 tinguished man. than to allow himself to be influenced 
 from any other quarter. Iut still, it will be observed 
 that it is only in details that he receive- instruction, 
 and that he vigorously supports the fundamental 
 principles of his system. The correspondence illus- 
 trates the method in which he held himself as work- 
 ing with human nature not as an artist, but an 
 anatomist, whose minute critical examinations nii-ht 
 
 be injured by any bursts of feeling or eloquence. 1 
 The letters show how tar lie saw into the depths of 
 the utilitarian system : and prove that it was more 
 
 1 Sc ;il-\r, p. :!.
 
 112. THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1739. 
 
 completely formed in his mind than it appeared in his 
 book. Notions of prudence appear to have restrained 
 him, at that time, from issuing so full a development 
 of the system as that which he afterwards published ; 
 but he soon discovered that it was not in that depart- 
 ment of his works that he stood on the most danger- 
 ous ground. 
 
 Hume to Francis Hutciieson. 
 
 " Ninewells, 17th Sept. 1739. 
 
 " Sir, I am much obliged to you for your reflec- 
 tions on my papers. I have perused them with care, 
 and find they will be of use to me. You have mis- 
 taken my meaning in some passages, which, upon 
 examination, I have found to proceed from some am- 
 biguity or defect in my expression. 
 
 " What affected me most in your remarks, is your 
 observing that there wants a certain warmth in the 
 cause of virtue, which you think all good men would 
 relish, and could not displease amidst abstract in- 
 quiries. I must own this has not happened by chance, 
 but is the effect of a reasoning cither good or bad. 
 There are different ways of examining the mind, as 
 well as the body. One may consider it either as an 
 anatomist or as a painter : cither to discover its most 
 secret springs and principles, or to describe the grace 
 and beauty of its actions. I imagine it impossible to 
 conjoin these two views. Where you pull off the 
 skin, and display all the minute parts, there appears 
 something trivial, even in the noblest attitudes and 
 most vigorous actions ; nor can you ever render the 
 object graceful or engaging, but by clothing the parts 
 again with skin and flesh, and presenting only their 
 bare outside. An anatomist, however, can give very
 
 Aa-.HU. INTEUCul'RSi; WITH HUTCIIKSOX. ny 
 
 good advice to a painter or statuary. And, in like 
 manner, I am persuaded that a metaphysician may be 
 very helpful to a moralist, though I cannot easily con- 
 ceive these two characters united in the same work. 
 Any warm sentiment of moral-, I am afraid, would 
 have the air of declamation amidst abstract reason- 
 ings, and would be esteemed contrary to ^ood taste. 
 And though 1 am much more ambitious of being 
 esteemed a friend to virtue than a writer of taste, yet 
 I must always carry the latter in my eye, otherwise 
 I must despair of ever being serviceable to virtue. I 
 hope these reasons will satisfy you; though at the 
 same time I intend to make a new trial, if it be pos- 
 sible to make the moralist and metaphysician agree a 
 little better. 
 
 " I cannot agree to your sense of itnfurnl. Tis 
 founded on final causes, which is a consideration that 
 appears to me pretty uncertain and unphilosophical. 
 For. pray, what is the end of man' Is he created 
 for happiness, or for virtue ' for this life, or for the 
 next ' for himself, or for his Maker ' Your defini- 
 tion of natural depends, upon solving these questions, 
 which are endless, and quite wide of my purpose. 1 
 have never called justice unnatural, but only artificial. 
 ' At i I'll' iji-'i afihfus. jns!i jirnii" hiafi'i' '/ (i'ljii).' ' says 
 one of the best moralists of antiquity. (Jrotius and 
 l'ull'eiidurf. to be consistent, mu.-( assert the same. 
 
 " W le 'ther natural abilities be \ irtue, is a dispute of 
 words. I think I follow the common use of lami'mme : 
 signified chiefly courage anions the lioinan-. 
 i was ju-t now reading this character of Alexander V I . 
 in ( Juicciardin. "in Alessandro sesto tu .- 1 - r l i ; i e< 
 sagacita >inu'ulare : con-iulio eccellente, ellicacia a 
 
 [] it. Lil>. i. >;it. .... I. ; >. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 114 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1739 
 
 persuadere maravigliosa, et a tutte le faccende gravi, 
 sollieitucline, et destrezza incredibile. Ma erano queste 
 virtu avanzate di grande intervallo da vitii.' * Were 
 benevolence the only virtue, no characters could be 
 mixed, but would depend entirely on their degrees of 
 benevolence. Upon the whole, I desire to take my 
 catalogue of virtues from ' Cicero's Offices,' not from 
 ' The Whole Duty of Man.' I had indeed the former 
 book in my eye in all my reasonings. 
 
 " I have many other reflections to communicate to 
 you ; but it would be troublesome. I shall therefore 
 conclude with telling you, that I intend to follow 
 your advice in altering most of those passages you 
 have remarked as defective in point of prudence ; 
 though, I must own, I think you a little too delicate. 
 Except a man be in orders, or be immediately con- 
 cerned in the instruction of youth, I do not think his 
 character depends upon his philosophical speculations, 
 as the world is now modelled ; and a little liberty 
 seems requisite to bring into the public notice a 
 book that is calculated for few readers. I hope you 
 will allow me the freedom of consulting you when I 
 am in any difficulty, and believe me," &c. 
 
 " P.S. I cannot forbear recommending another 
 thing to your consideration. Actions are not virtuous 
 nor vicious, but only so far as they are proofs of cer- 
 tain qualities or durable principles in the mind. This 
 is a point I should have established more expressly 
 than I have done. Now, I desire you to consider if 
 
 1 Edit. 1636, p. .">. "Alexander the Sixth was endowed with 
 wonderful cunning and extraordinary sagacity ; had a surprising 
 genius in suggesting expedients in the cabinet, and uncommon effi- 
 cacy in persuading; and in all matters of consequence an incredible 
 earnestness and dexterity." Goddard's Translation.
 
 JEt. 2U. APPLICATION FOR A SITUATION. 115 
 
 there be any quality that is virtuous, without having 
 a tendency either to the public irood or to the good of 
 the person who possesses it. If there be none without 
 these tendencies, we may conclude that their merit 
 is derived from sympathy. I desire you would only 
 consider the tmt/'-ncirs of qualities, not their actual 
 operations, which depend on chance, ii ruins riveted 
 the chains of Rome faster by his opposition ; but 
 the natural tendency of his noble dispositions his 
 public spirit and magnanimity was to establish her 
 liberty. 
 
 "You are a great admirer of Cicero as well as I am. 
 1 'lease to review the fourth book De Finibus Bonorum 
 it Malorinn : where you find him prove against the 
 Stoics, that if there be no other goods but virtue, 'tis im- 
 possible there can be any virtue, because the mind would 
 then want all motives to begin its actions upon; and 
 'tis on the goodness or badness of the motives that 
 the virtue of the action depends. This proves, that 
 to every virtuous action there must be a motive or 
 impelling passion distinct from the virtue, and that 
 virtue can never be the sole motive to any action. 
 You do not assent to this: though 1 think there is 
 no proposition more certain or important. I must 
 own my proofs were not distinct enough and must be 
 altered. You see with what reluctance 1 part with 
 you. though I believe it is time I should ask your 
 pardon for so much trouble." 
 
 In the mean time we find Hume anxious to be 
 employed in the capacity of a travelling governor or 
 tutor, and writing to Mr. (leorge Carre of Nisbet, 
 intimating his readiness to officiate to that LTentleman's 
 cousins. Lord Haddington and Mr. ilaillic, if there 
 are no favoured candidates for the situation. There
 
 116 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740. 
 
 is nothing in the letter to excite much interest. 1 lie 
 says, he hears the young gentlemen are proposing to 
 travel; observes that he has the honour to be their 
 relation, " which gives a governor a better air in 
 attending his pupils," and that lie has some leisure 
 time. In his letter to a physician, in the preceding- 
 chapter, we find him mentioning this office as one of 
 the few to which his prospects were limited, and, at 
 the same time, as one for which his knowledge of the 
 world scarcely fitted him. His six years' farther 
 experience of life had perhaps in his own opinion 
 provided him with opportunities of better qualifying 
 himself for the duties of this office. It was held by 
 many able and accomplished men at that time, and 
 appears to have been the profession of his friend 
 Michael Ilamsay. There are no traces of the manner 
 in which his application was received. 
 
 From such matters as these, one readily turns 
 with interest to the most trifling notices connected 
 with his literary history. On 4th March, 1740, we 
 find him thus writing to Hutcheson. 
 
 " My bookseller has sent to Mr. Smith a copy of 
 my book, which I hope he has received, as well as 
 your letter. T have not yet heard what he has done 
 with the abstract ; perhaps you have. I have got it 
 printed in London, but not in The Work's of tin 1 Learned, 
 there having been an article with regard to my book, 
 somewhat abusive, printed in that work, before I sent 
 up the abstract." 2 
 
 The " Smith " here mentioned as receiving a copy 
 of the Treatise, we may fairly conclude, notwithstand- 
 ing the universality of the nairfe, to be Adam Smith, 
 who was then a student in the university of Glasgow, 
 
 1 Dated, 12th November, 17'u'J. MS. K.S.E 
 - M .-.'. R.S.E.
 
 -l'i. 2a. IILTCIIKSON AM) ADAM SMITH. 
 
 17 
 
 and not quite seventeen years old. 1 1 1 may lie inferred 
 from 11 nine's letter, that Ilutrlieson had mentioned 
 Smith as a person on whom it would serve some ^ood 
 purpose to bestow a copy of the Tr ati.- : and we have 
 hero, evidently, the tir.-t introdnetion to eaeh other's 
 notiee. of' two friends, of whom it can he said, that 
 there was m> third person writing the Knglish lnnejuaLTO 
 during the same period, who has had so mueli intlu- 
 enee cpon the opinion- of mankind as either of these' 
 t '. o men. 
 
 The correspondence with llutelieson is continued as 
 follows: 
 
 I I I MK fn I'k'AMIs 1 I l "IT'l i r.snv. 
 
 < \>;>/. .i/o-/-. 17 10. 
 " Df.au Sin. I must trouhlo you to write that letter 
 you was so kind as to oiler to Longman the hookseller. 
 I eoneluded somewhat of a hasty bargain with my 
 bookseller, from indolence and an aversion to bar^ain- 
 1 1 i lx : as also heeause I was told that few or no hook- 
 seller would emiuee for one edition with a new author. 
 I was also determined to keep my mini!' a secret for 
 some time, though I lind I have failed in that point. 
 1 sold oie' edition of these two volumes for fifty guineas, 
 and also en-;::;, d myself heedlessly in a elan.-'', which 
 may prove troublesome, viz. that upon printing a second 
 edit ion I shall take all tlm copies remain ine upon hand 
 :;' the huok -i-ller's price at the time. "I'is in order to 
 have Mime (!: ck upon my book.-'dler, 1 1 1 ; i f I would 
 williiudy en-'aLi-e with another : v-.:>\ I doi.ht not hut 
 vniir r'-eouiinou'hit i hi would he \ . r\ M-r\ ie.'a'de to 
 me, c, en t iio'.i -:\\ \ >n he u '. per-i >\\:\ ih nc<|Uah:ted 
 with him. 
 
 I wait with some impat ience for a second edition. 
 
 ' Ur u:.. I. mi n ;'!. !:,:,. 17-J:,\
 
 ] is THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740. 
 
 principally on account of alterations I intend to make 
 in my performance. This is an advantage that we 
 authors possess since the invention of printing, and 
 renders the nonum prematur in annum not so necessary 
 to us as to the ancients. Without it I should have 
 been guilty of a very great temerity, to publish at my 
 years so many novelties in so delicate a part of philo- 
 sophy ; and at any rate, I am afraid that I must plead 
 as my excuse that very circumstance of youth which 
 may be urged against me. I assure you, that without 
 running any of the heights of scepticism, I am apt 
 in a cool hour to suspect, in general, that most of my 
 reasonings will be more useful by furnishing hints and 
 exciting people's curiosity, than as containing any 
 principles that will augment the stock of knowledge, 
 that must pass to future ages. 1 I wish I could dis- 
 cover more fully the particulars wherein I have failed. 
 I admire so much the candour I have observed in Mr. 
 Locke, yourself, and a very few more, that I would be 
 extremely ambitious of imitating it, by frankly con- 
 fessing my errors. If I. do not imitate it, it must 
 proceed neither from my being free from errors nor 
 want of inclination, but from my real unaffected 
 ignorance. I shall consider more carefully all the 
 particulars you mention to me : though with regard to 
 abstract ideas, 'tis with difficulty T can entertain a 
 doubt on that head, notwithstanding your authority. 
 Our conversation together has furnished me a hint, 
 with which I shall augment the second edition. 
 'Tis this the word simple idea is an abstract term, 
 comprehending different individuals that are similar. 
 Yet the point of their similarity, from the very nature 
 of such ideas, is not distinct nor separable from the 
 rest. Js not this a proof, among many others, that 
 
 1 See above, p. 78.
 
 /Er. 20. 
 
 LETTERS TO II ETCH F.SOX. 
 
 11!) 
 
 there may be a .similarity without any possible separ- 
 ation even in thought. 
 
 ' I must consult you in a point of prudence. 1 have 
 concluded a reasoning with these two sentences: 
 ' When you pronounce any action or character to be 
 vicious, you mean nothing but that, from the particular 
 constitution of your nature, you have a feeling or senti- 
 ment of blame from the contemplation of it. Vice and 
 virtue, therefore, may be compared to sounds, colours, 
 In at, and cold, which, according to modern philosophy, 
 are not ([Utilities in objects, but perceptions in the 
 mind. And this discovery in mora]-'. like that other 
 in physics, is to be regarded as a mighty advancement 
 of the speculative sciences, though like that too it has 
 little or no influence on practice.' ' 
 
 " Is not this laid a little too strong? I desire your 
 opinion of it. though I cannot entirely promise to 
 conform myself to it. I wish from my heart I could 
 avoid concluding, that since morality, according to 
 your opinion, as well as mine, is determined merely 
 by sentiment, it regards only human nature and 
 human life. This has been often urged against you, 
 and the consequences are very momentous. If you 
 make any alterations in your performances, I can 
 assure you, there are many who desire you would 
 more fully consider this point, if you think that the 
 truth lies on the popular side. Otherwise common 
 prudence, your character, and situation, forbid you 
 [to] touch upon it. If morality were determined by 
 rea>on, that is the same to all rational being.-,; but 
 
 ! See tlii- ] ei-- :i _'e in tin' '" Tr.'ati-e nf Human Nature." I'mik iii. 
 part i. -t'<'t. 1 . \\ ln'iv it appear.- u it li 1 1 other s anat:"ii than tho 
 .- ' 1 1 > - 1 i 1 1 1 1 i <> n n|" tin- wop 1 "f"ii-i' leral ili\" t'"i li I I v. It tlru> appears 
 that u hafever remark llntrhe hi made mi tin' pa. a^e, t'.n'V wore 
 Tint such a.- to induce the author materiallv to alter it.
 
 120 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740. 
 
 nothing but experience can assure us that the senti- 
 ments are the same. What experience have we with 
 regard to superior beings? How can we ascribe to 
 them any sentiments at all ? They have implanted 
 those sentiments in us for the conduct of life like 
 our bodily sensations, which they possess not them- 
 selves. I expect no answer to these difficulties in the 
 compass of a letter. 'Tis enough if you have patience 
 to read so long a letter as this. I am." &c. 
 
 The third volume of the " Treatise of Human 
 Nature " being the part relating to morals, was pub- 
 lished by Thomas Longman in 1740. It is not so 
 original as the metaphysical part of the work, nor 
 are its principles so clearly and decidedly laid down. 
 Its author's metaphysical theories were rather modified 
 than confirmed in his subsequent works. But his 
 opinions on ethical subjects, only indistinctly shadowed 
 forth in his early work, were afterwards reduced to 
 a more compact system, and were more clearly and 
 fully set forth. 
 
 The metaphysical department of the Treatise is a 
 system with a great leading principle throughout, of 
 which its author intended that all the details should 
 be but the individual applications. If his reasoning 
 in that department of his work be accurate, he sweeps 
 away all other systems of the foundation of knowledge, 
 and substitutes another in their stead. But the third 
 book, " on Morals," like the second, on " the Passions," 
 has no such pretension. The leading principles of the 
 metaphysical department are certainly kept in view, 
 but the details arc not necessarily parts of it. They 
 have a separate existence of their own : they are an 
 analysis of phenomena which we witness in our daily 
 life; and the reader assents or dissents as the several
 
 Mr. 20. 
 
 TREATISK ON MORALS. 
 
 121 
 
 opinion? expressed correspond with or diverge from 
 his own observation of what ho sees passing in tlie 
 world around him. without, in that mental operation, 
 either receiving or rejecting any general theory. In 
 short, it is to a considerable extent a series of obser- 
 vations of human conduct and character: and as such 
 they are admitted or denied, arc sympathized with or 
 contemn* d, according to the previous feelings and opin- 
 ions of the render. Anions the prominent features of 
 the theoretical part of this hook, is the admission of a 
 moral sense. 1 but the negation of an abstract code of 
 morality, separately existing, and independent of the 
 position of the persons who are applying this sense. 
 The work in some measure foreshadows the systems 
 which have been respectively called the utilitarian 
 and the selfish; the former applying as the scale of 
 moral excellence the extent to which an action is 
 beneficial or hurtful to the human race; the latter 
 referring the actions of mankind, whether i^ood or 
 bad, interested or disinterested, to self, and to 
 impulses which are always connected with the indivi- 
 dual in whom they act. and his passions or desires. 
 In this respect it had its influence, when joined to 
 other hints thrown out by philosophers, in supplying 
 the texts on which llelvetius, I >cccaria, and Uentham 
 discoursed at "renter length and with a (dearer ampli- 
 cation to detinite systems. The utilitarian principle 
 1 1 ume afterwards extended and rendered systematic, 
 in pursuance of the views announced in Ids eonv-pou- 
 dence with lluteheson. In connexion with what is 
 
 ' I ; !:. i . i 'i . > it" : 1 1 1 V 1 ''.fit-! - ( 1 i 
 
 :ili'li' t.i i--i-t 11 t'.i- > \i-l . . : . 
 
 uliirli, :!<<' e 1 . 1 1 _r I" 1m- muii ;ii', . ; ., . ' , ' n. will, his 
 r.'.ctiniliv-ii'til t! > i v >l n i : 'ii ;ui'! id, a-. i:,.t \\ itl ' a 1 1 < 1 i 1 1 _' hi.-i 
 iiuitv in lM'.ikne; '.! ; 1 1 1 i " m ; !':. i i i ! rt*s - : :i -.
 
 122 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740. 
 
 called the "selfish system" of morals, he went no farther 
 than to point out that the source of every impulse 
 must have its relation to the individual person on 
 whom that impulse acts. If it be the sordid impulse 
 of the miser, it must be because the man who feels it 
 loves gold ; if it be the profuse impulse of the spend- 
 thrift, it must be because the individual who spends 
 has a corresponding desire within himself; if it be the 
 charitable impulse of the person who feeds the poor, 
 it must be because that person is under the influence 
 of inducements which incline him rather to do so than 
 not do so. If the principle be applied to a martyr 
 suffering for conscience sake, or to a soldier who 
 prefers death to submission, it is still because the 
 person who acts fulfils impulses acting on himself. 
 But this is a subject from which Hume appears to 
 have shrunk in his subsequent works. He seems to 
 have disliked the character of being connected with 
 " the selfish school ; " and he thus failed to revert to a 
 subject on which his rigid and clear examination would 
 have been a matter of greater interest, than his merely 
 arguing against self-interest being the proper rule 
 of action an argument that with hirn amounts to 
 nothing more than a protest against that vulgarization 
 of the system, which charges it with such a 
 doctrine for the purpose of rendering it odious. We 
 shall afterwards find that he had a correspondence on 
 this subject with Hclvetius, who wished to bring him 
 over to the admission of his own opinions. 
 
 In this department of the Treatise there are some 
 inquiries into the first principles of law and govern- 
 ment. Here, if any where, lie shows the influence 
 over his mind of his reading in the works of the 
 civilians. I lis own utilitarian principle, when carried 
 out on these subjects, shows that the best government
 
 /Et. 20. TREATISE OX MORALS. J 23 
 
 is that 'which is most conducive to the welfare of the 
 community. Hut he occasionally mixes up this 
 principle with elements totally heterogeneous to it 
 as in those instances where lie considers the privilege 
 of governing as held by the same tenure with the 
 right of property, and views the question whether any 
 particular government is good or bad, in its effect 
 upon the persons governed, as secondary to the 
 question whether it is or is not held by a good tenure 
 when it is considered as if it were a matter of private 
 property. Hut, notwithstanding these inconsistencies, 
 which he afterwards amended when he had more 
 fully investigated the principles of politics, the general 
 aim of his observations on the sources of government 
 is to show that they are to be found in reason, and 
 to dispel the various irrational and superstitious 
 notions of political authority, which are comprehended 
 in the use of the term Divine Right. Indeed, the 
 observations which he makes with a practical applica- 
 tion to governments, are a partial anticipation of the 
 clear good sense which distinguished his subsequent 
 political essays. In connexion with the motives of 
 that insurrection which occurred within eight years 
 after the publication of the Treatise, and with the 
 partiality for high monarchical principles with which 
 Hume's name is so much associated, the following 
 remarks arc interesting and instructive. 
 
 \Vli'"'Vi-r considers tin* history of the several nations of 
 tin 1 world, their revolutions, conquests, inciva-e and diminu- 
 t i 'ii, the manner in whieh their particular governments are 
 e.-taMi>hed. and the sueees>ive riidit tran-tnit te-1 ir-m mm 
 pei>oii to another, will soon learn to treat very lightly all 
 disputes eoneernini: the rights of pritiees, and will be con- 
 vinced that a strict adherence to any general rules, and the 
 riead loyalty to particular persons and families, on which
 
 124 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740-1741. 
 
 some people set so high a value, are virtues that hold less of 
 reason than of bigotry and superstition. In this particular, 
 the study of history confirms +hc reasonings of true philo- 
 sophy, which, showing us the original qualities of human 
 nature, teaches us to regard the controversies in politics as 
 incapable of any decision in most cases, and as entirely 
 subordinate to the interests of peace and liberty. Where 
 the public good does not evidently demand a change, "'tis 
 certain that the concurrence of all those titles, original con- 
 tract, long possession, present possession, succession, and positive 
 laics, forms the strongest title to sovereignty, and is justly 
 regarded as sacred and inviolable. But when these titles 
 are mingled and opposed in different degrees, they often 
 occasion perplexity, and are less capable of solution from the 
 arguments of lawyers and philosophers, than from the swords 
 of the soldiery. Who shall tell me, for instance, whether 
 Ccrmanicus or Drusus ouo;ht to have succeeded Tiberius, 
 had he died while they were both alive, without naming any 
 of them for his successor ? Ought the right of adoption to 
 be received as equivalent to that of blood, in a nation where 
 it had the same effect in private families, and had already, 
 in two instances, taken place in the public ? Ought Gcr- 
 manicus to be esteemed the eldest son, because he was born 
 before Drusus ; or the younger, because he was adopted after 
 the birth of his brother? Ought the right of the elder to be 
 regarded in a nation, where the eldest brother had no advan- 
 tage in the succession to private families I Ought the lloman 
 empire at that time to be esteemed hereditary, because of two 
 examples; or ought it, even so early, to be regarded as 
 belonging to the stronger, or the present possessor, as being 
 founded on so recent an usurpation? Upon whatever prin- 
 ciples we may pretend to answer those and such-like questions, 
 I am afraid we .shall never be able to satisfy an impartial in- 
 quirer, who adopts no party in political controversies, and will 
 be satislied with nothing but sound reason and philosophy. 1 
 
 Sonic of Hume's notes, of matters which have occur- 
 red to him in the course of his reading as worthy of ob- 
 servation, or of remarkable thoughts passing through 
 
 1 Book iii. part ii. sect. 10.
 
 .-Ivr. 2D-C0. 
 
 MEMORANDUM BuOK. 
 
 ii'; 
 
 his mind, have been preserved. 1 They appear to he 
 merely a few stray leaves, wliieh have accidentally sur- 
 vived the loss of many others, as the number of subjects 
 to which they refer is limited in comparison with the 
 wide compass of knowledge embraced in Hume's vari- 
 ous works. The specimens so preserved, appear LTcne- 
 rally to have been written at this period of his life, 
 with the exception, perhaps, of those which arc printed 
 above, and which have reference to physical science." 
 They are set down with clearness and precision, as if 
 by one who knew both the step in a series of reasoning 
 to "which each of them belongs, and the form in which 
 it should be expressed. They are written on long 
 sheets of paper; and unless the few that appear under 
 the head " Natural Philosophy," and some which have 
 the general heading " Philosophy,"' they appear to 
 have been subjected to no system of pro-arrangement, 
 such as that which Locke suggested, but to have been 
 >e[ down according a-- the fruits of the annotator's 
 reading or thought presented themselves to him. A 
 few specimens are here given : they will be found to 
 have been chiefly made use of in the "Natural 
 History of Religion," and in the " Lssay on the 
 Populous]!' >s of Ancient Nation--." while a few of 
 them as for instance that relating to ( Justavus \ asa 
 
 make their appearance; in the little volume of 
 
 - Lssays. Moral and Political," published in 1711.'' A 
 considerable proportion of them have not been made 1 
 use of in Hume's printed works, and some of them 
 
 ' :' 
 
 : ! il M. II.s.K. 
 
 I!.' r IV , , . -!... 
 
 lu-i !! U rilh'll I iff. ' tie 1 p-iMii't' ' 
 
 l>i'e .-ii! a- t!.i' p. ri '1 t" w liich :i i "II. 
 [Kill \\ ill UK ! apt i v a]. j.] v, altli"ll_'h 
 iii'k' at ;: later - hit---. 
 
 
 
 . ! : ' ' 
 
 f\tr:ict- f:-..in fli. 
 
 iif th'-iu mav liavi
 
 126 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740-1741. 
 
 contain information which is embodied in Smith's 
 " Wealth of Nations." It is an occurrence quite 
 characteristic of the friendship of these two great 
 men, that either of them should have supplied the 
 other with facts or ideas applicable to the subjects 
 on which he might be engaged. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM A COLLECTION OF MEMORANDUMS. 
 
 Perhaps the custom of allowing parents to murder 
 their infant children, though barbarous, tends to render 
 a state more populous, as in China. Many marry by 
 that inducement ; and such is the force of natural 
 affection, that none make use of that privilege but in 
 extreme necessity. 
 
 A pound of steel, when manufactured, may become 
 of 10,000 value. 
 
 No hospitals in Holland have any land or settled 
 revenue, and yet the poor better provided for than 
 any where else in the world. 
 
 The Romans had two ways chiefly of levying 
 their taxes, by public lands, which were all dis- 
 sipated by popular tribunes about the end of the 
 republic ; or by customs upon importation, which were 
 different in different places ; in some the fortieth part 
 of the value ; in Sicily the twentieth. 
 
 They had also a kind of excise, which began with 
 the emperors, and was the two-hundredth or one- 
 hundredth part of the value of all goods sold, the 
 fiftieth of slaves. 
 
 Beside this, they had pretty early, even in the 
 time of the republic, duties upon mines and salt ; and 
 in order to levy the former more easily, they forbid 
 all mines in Italy. Their mines near Carthagena
 
 /Et. 29-30. MEMORANDUM BOOK. 127 
 
 yielded them 25,000 drachms a-day. Bur man dr. 
 \ id. Jloni. 
 
 In the time of the monarchy, the knurs had the sole 
 power of imposing taxes. In the time of the republic, 
 'tis strange to see this power belonging sometimes to 
 the magistrates, sometimes to the senate, or to the 
 people. We learn from Livy, in the second runic 
 War, that the senate could contract debt alone. 
 L'olybius says, that all money matters belonged to the 
 senate. The censors levied all the taxes, and tanned 
 them out to the Koman knights. The Romans could 
 be no great politicians ; since the senate could not 
 gain the sovereignty, nor the censors the supreme 
 magistracy, notwithstanding these advantages. 
 
 All French projectors take it for granted that 'tis 
 equally dangerous to make the people too easy as to 
 oppress them too much. Comtf d>' ItnuhiinriUirys. 
 
 The charter governments in America, almost entirely 
 independent of England. 
 
 Those north of \ irginia interfere most with us in 
 manufactures, which proceeds from the resemblance of 
 soil and climate. 
 
 Custavus \ asa is perhaps the only instance of a 
 prince who humbled the clergy while he aspired to 
 arbitrary power. 
 
 From 17-9 to 17)30, imported of corn into Ireland 
 to the value of Ul'74,000, -ascribed to the want of 
 a drawback by the Irish House of Commons. 
 
 The exchange to Holland always against us. 
 ( 'rnlhiiiKit. Not true. 
 
 < Mir exports no rule to judge of our trade: masters 
 enter more than they export, to persuade others that 
 their ship is near full. 
 
 The Fast India Company have oliered to pay all 
 the duties upon tea. provided it may be sold duty free.
 
 128 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740-1741. 
 
 The interest the crown has in seizures thought to be 
 the cause why they were refused. Never asked ; 
 because afterwards they cannot expect the execution 
 of the laws against foreign tea. 
 
 The government of England perhaps the only one, 
 except Holland, wherein the legislature has not force 
 enough to execute the laws without the good-will of 
 the people. This is an irregular kind of check upon 
 the legislature. 
 
 Men have much oftener erred from too great respect 
 to government than from too little. 
 
 The French sugar colonies supplied entirely with 
 provisions from our northern colonies. 
 
 20000 Hogsheads of tobacco exported to France at 20 
 a hogshead ; at 5. 
 
 The gross produce of the English customs 3,000,000 
 a-year ; the neat produce 1,800,000. 
 
 In all the British Leeward Islands, the muster-roll 
 exceeded not two thousand five hundred men a few 
 years ago, and yet there are twenty thousand blacks 
 in Antigua alone. 
 
 The French fish on the coasts of Newfoundland in 
 the winter, which gives them an advantage above us. 
 
 Our bustle about the Ostend company, the cause of 
 the great progress of the French company. 
 
 The East India Company have desired to have 
 China raw silk put upon the same footing as to duty 
 with the Italian, but have been refused. 
 
 The reason why the court has a greater superiority 
 among the Lords than Commons, beside the bishops, 
 is that the court gives places to the Lords, chiefly for 
 their interest among the Commons. 
 
 Eighteen hundred children put upon the parishes at 
 Dublin in five years, of which, upon inquiry, there 
 remained only twenty-eight.
 
 Ah. i'!'-:;o. 
 
 MK.MnliAMil'.M linoK. 
 
 1'J.O 
 
 Ninety-five thousand seamen computed to be in 
 France; only sixty thousand in IliiLi'laml. 
 
 Ships formerly lasted twentv-seven year- in the 
 KnudisJi navy: now only thirteen. 
 
 W it li in the la<t two thousand voars, almost all the 
 despotic LTovt'rnnu'nts of the world have been improv- 
 ine;. and the fit ones, doevucratini: ; so that now they 
 an 1 pretty near a par. 
 
 There must he a halance in all u'overnnionts : and 
 the ineonvenienee of allowing a single person to have 
 any share is, that what may he too little for a halance 
 in one hand will he too much in another. 
 
 The liar- of wheat, in 1400, were fixed at Kdin- 
 bnrirh, (J sh. 7 p. Scots money. 
 
 hanks lirst invented in Sweden on account of their 
 copper money. 
 
 There i- not a word of trade in all Machiavel. which 
 is >tranee. ruii-iderine that Florence rose only by 
 trade. 
 
 About twenty thousand tun of wine imported into 
 laiLi'land about the time of the first hutch war. 
 ,S'/V Jos in ft I 'hi hi. 
 
 Hue per cent, in interest, worse than t \\ o pr cent, 
 in customs; because' .-hips pay the intere.-t, not the 
 cusi oms. 
 
 Fie,ht hundred thousand dews chased from Spain 
 by Ferdinand the ( "atholic. finhh v. 1 
 
 About Iimi.iiimi M,(rs condemned for apo>taey. by 
 the I ii.|ui>ition. in forty years. |0<l() burned. hi. 
 
 Near a million of 'door- expelled Spain. - /'/. 
 
 The ( 'onimou> ot' I'a.-'iili'. in taking arm- a^aiu-t 
 Charles tli" l-'ifth. anions other things pet ition. that 
 no >heep nor wool .-hall be allowed to uj> O ,o ,,f {\ it . 
 kingdom. /'/. 
 
 : Mi-ffllu,,,,,;;. Tra,-!-, |,y Mi.'hao! (,. ! !v. I?ae. 
 VOL. I
 
 130 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740-1741. 
 
 The interest in Rome reduced to six per cent, under 
 Tiberius. Tacit. 
 
 The laws of Arragon required a public trial for the 
 subjects : but allowed the king a kind of despotic 
 power over his servants and ministers, in order to 
 render the great men less fond of court preferment. 
 Geddes. 
 
 'Twould be more easy for the English liberties to 
 recover themselves than the Roman, because of the 
 mixed government. The transition is not so violent. 
 
 The farms were large among the ancients. The 
 Leontine farms in Sicily contained 130,000 acres, and 
 were farmed to eighty-three farmers. Cicero in 
 Very em. 
 
 After the conquest of Egypt by Augustus, the 
 prices of every thing doubled in Rome. 
 
 The Roman colonies, in the time of Augustus, voted 
 in their colonies, and sent their votes to Rome. 
 
 The Romans very exact in their book-keeping ; 
 in so much, that a crime, such as bribery or poisoning, 
 could be proved or refuted from their books. Cic. pro 
 Cluentio. 
 
 They also kept commentaries or ephemerides, 
 wherein every action or word was wrote down ; at 
 least Augustus practised this with his daughters and 
 nieces. Sueton. 
 
 In Nero's time, 30,000 buried in one autumn, while 
 there was a plague. 
 
 Machiavel makes it a question, whether absolute 
 power is best founded on the nobility or the people. 
 In my opinion, a subject who usurps upon a free 
 state, cannot trust the nobles, and must caress the 
 people. This was the case with the Roman emperors. 
 But an established monarchy is better founded on the 
 nobles.
 
 .El. CD-o >. 
 
 M KM U II AND I'M BOoK. 
 
 131 
 
 When the Lex Licinin was promulgated, the senate 
 voted that it should he bindim-; from that moment, as 
 if it had been voted by the people. 
 
 In 17-1. the l-'nirlish and Patch drew more money 
 from Spain than France did. hht. <h (',,,//. 
 
 There is eomi>uted to be liiiuii tun of ea,ld iii the 
 bank of Amsterdam, at 100.000 florins a tun. /'/. 
 
 A > 1 1 i j > of ."til or (in tun has commonly seven 
 hands, and increases a man every 1<> tun. /'/. 
 
 The French commerce sunk much about the middle 
 of I he seventeenth century, by reason of their infidelity 
 in their e'oods. /</. 
 
 Tin.' re seems to have been a very bad police in 
 Koine: for Cicero say-, that if Milo had waylaid 
 Clodius. he would have waited for him in the neigh- 
 bourhood, where hi< death niiejit have been attributed 
 to rob iters, bv reason of the commonness of the acci- 
 dent : and yet Clodius had above sixty servants with 
 him. all armed. 
 
 Thirty-oiudit holidays in tie' yar in I'rance, - 
 I d'li'itiii. One hundred and eighty working days at a 
 medium. /</. 
 
 The people commonly live poorest in countries 
 which hav the riehe-t natural soil. 
 
 (inn .-hives, workiiu in the -liver mines of Athens, 
 yielded a niina a -day to their ma-f er Xenophon. lie 
 conijiutes that In. nun slaves would produce a revenue 
 of lnii talents a-year. 
 
 The lmlidays in Athens made two mouths in the 
 year. .S unt^in*. 
 
 The public in Athen- paid "_'< per cent, for monev. 
 
 Manv of the chief otiicers of the army were named 
 
 bv the people iii old Uuiie. /, '. lib. i\. and lib. vii. 
 
 The Konian senate were obliged bv law t<> uke
 
 132 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 17401741. 
 
 their authority to the Comitia Centuriata before the 
 suffrages were called. Id. lib. viii. cap. 12. 
 
 The Pontifices of old Rome suppressed the records 
 of their religion on purpose, as well as those of new 
 Rome. Id. lib. ix. 
 
 Every part of the office of the senate could be 
 brought before the people ; even the distribution of 
 provinces. An evident part of the executive. Id. 
 lib. x. cap. 24. 
 
 G0,000 sterling amassed beforehand for building 
 the Capitol. Id. lib. i. 
 
 Plays, a part of religious service for a pestilence. 
 Id. lib. vii. 
 
 The senators were forbid trade among the Romans. 
 Id. lib. viii. cap. G3. 
 
 In the Roman government, there was a great 
 restraint on liberty, since a man could not leave his 
 colony, or live where he pleased. Id, lib. xxxix. 
 cap. 3. 
 
 External superstition punished by the Romans. 
 Id. lib. xxxix. cap. 16. 
 
 They were very jealous of the established religion. 
 Id. lib. xl. cap. 29. 
 
 Robbers established in legal companies in Egypt; 
 and such captains as Jonathan Wyld established. 
 Diodorus Sicidus. 
 
 Whoever consecrated the tenth of their goods to 
 Hercules, was esteemed sure of happiness by the 
 Romans. Id. 
 
 Jupiter, according to the Cretan tradition, was a 
 pious worshipper of the gods ; a clear proof that those 
 people had a preceding religion. Id. lib. v. 
 
 dradenigo's change of the Venetian republic was 
 made in 1280. St. Didier. 
 
 The clergy are chosen by a popular call. Id.
 
 .]>. -2\> : (). 
 
 .Ml'. Mull AN DIM Book'. 
 
 l:) n , 
 
 \ ossius says he saw in Koine, that, diu'irinu; forty 
 foot underground, they found the tops of columns 
 
 hliricd. 
 
 Horses wore very rare unions tin- ancients, (hi.' fore 
 tin- IvoimmsA and not employed in any thiuu' hut war. 
 1st. In tin' n-tivat of tin- t< n thousand, 'twould have 
 horn t-a^y to have inounti'd the whole army, if horses 
 had h-'.-n a> niiiiiiii.ii as a' present, -d. They had 
 ahout fifty horses, whieli. instead of increasine. dimi- 
 ni>l,i'd during the road, though very useful, od. In 
 the spoils of villages. Xenophon frequently mentions 
 sleep and oxen: never horses. 1th. Cleoinhrotu.s' 
 army, in lih. v. Hist, made use of assi.'S for the car- 
 riages. 
 
 I )emosthem s tells the Athenians, that a very horn st 
 man of Macedonia, who would not li<'. told him such 
 and such thines of I'hilips situation : a kind of style' 
 that marks hut had intelligence, and little communi- 
 cation anions the dilferent states. ()h/nfft. '2. 
 
 Tin- :!<) tyrant- killed ahout loon citi/ens untried. 
 
 _./>,///, !. 
 
 Thra>yhulus restorinLr tic jieojile, and (:e>ars con- 
 quest, the only instanci.'S in ancient history of revolu- 
 tions without ha 1 harous cruel \ . 
 
 Tlcre M't-iiis to he ji natural course of things which 
 hrin j- on the destruction of u,reat empires. They 
 pu-h their conquests till they come to harharoiis 
 nations, w'nieh stop their progress ly the diliicidtv of 
 -ah --real armies. A f; t t hal. 1 iie iicliili* \ and 
 
 ' II, ell r ' i ' -t 
 
 iraw r: I ' 1 ' :; . 1 J \ j i'a ; y. 
 
 hv r . - i.i e, ; - , , - . e: [ ;d. : 
 
 harharit v < f t le com,' r\ in \\i,i i ' . , .-. ' . 'i . \ 
 foi-e'et the u - ..f v. :i .'. Ti - Tlief^ 
 
 hecoino their masters. Tin'-' have no ., ,-. [heir
 
 334 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740-1741. 
 
 sword, both from their bad education, and from their 
 distance from the sovereign to whom they bear no 
 affection. Hence disorder, violence, anarchy, tyranny, 
 and a dissolution of empire. 
 
 Perseus's ambassadors to the Rhodians spoke a 
 style like the modern, with regard to the balance of 
 power, but are condemned by Livy. Lib. xlii. cap. 
 46. 
 
 Herodotus makes a scruple of so much as delivering 
 an account of the difference of religion among foreigners, 
 lest he should give offence. Lib. ii. 
 
 The Egyptians more careful of preserving their 
 cats than their houses in time of fire. Id. 
 
 Plutarch says, that the effect of the naval power of 
 Athens, established by Themistocles, was to render 
 their government more popular : and that husbandmen 
 and labourers are more friends to nobility than mer- 
 chants and seamen are. In Vita Tliemht. 
 
 Solon is the first person mentioned in history to 
 have raised the value of money, which, says Plutarch, 
 was a benefit to the poor in paying their debts, and 
 no loss to the rich. In Vita Solon. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Men love pleasure more than they hate pain. 
 Bayh: 
 
 Men arc vicious, but hate a religion that authorizes 
 vice. Id. 
 
 The accounts we have of the sentiments of the 
 ancient philosophers not very distinct nor consistent. 
 Cicero contradicts himself in two sentences: in sayinor 
 that T hales allowed the ordering of the world by a 
 mind, and in saying that Anaxagoras was the first. 
 
 Strato's atheism the most dangerous of the ancient
 
 .F.r. 2U-30. 
 
 MK.MOKANIH'M IK.xiK. 
 
 13- 
 
 holding t lie origin of tin.* world from nature, or a 
 matter endued with activity, liayle think- there are 
 none Itut tin* Cartesians can refute this athei>m. 
 
 A Stratonieian could retort the arguments of all 
 the sects of philosophy. < >f til" Stoics, who maill- 
 tainetl their < iod to he tiery and compound : and of the 
 r'latoniciaus, who asserted tin* ideas to be distinct 
 from the I > * i t \" . The same <iuestiom \\ hy tic parts 
 or ideas of (rod had that particular arrangement '. 
 is as dililciilt as why the world had. 
 
 Some pretend that there can be no necessity, accor- 
 ding to the system of atheism, "because even matter 
 cannot be determined without something superior to 
 determine it." /'<>/> Imi. 
 
 Three proofs of the existence of a Clod : 1st. Some 
 thing necessarily exi.-tent, and what is so is infinitely 
 perfect, lid. The idea of infinite must come from an 
 infinite brinu'. ! 1. The idea of intinite perfection 
 implies that of actual existence. 
 
 There is a remarkable story to contirm the Cartesian 
 philosophy of the brain. A man hurt by the fall of 
 a horse, forgot about twenty years of his life, and 
 remembered what went before in a much more lively 
 manner than usual.
 
 13G THE JJFK OF DAVID HUME. 1741-1742. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I 741 1 745. JEt. SO 34. 
 
 Publication of the Essays, Moral and Political Their Character Corre- 
 spondence with Home and Hutcheson Hume's Remarks on Hutcheson's 
 System Education and Accomplishments of the Scottish Gentry Hume's 
 Intercourse with Mure of Caldwell and Oswald of Dunnikier Opinions on 
 a Sermon by Dr. Leechman Attempts to succeed Dr. Pringle in the Chair 
 of Moral Philosophy in Edinburgh. 
 
 A small duodecimo volume, the first of the " Essays 
 Moral and Political," was published at Edinburgh in 
 1741, and the second was published in 1742. The 
 publication was anonymous; and it is remarkable that, 
 although thus shielded, Hume appears to have, at 
 that early period, been so anxious to disconnect 
 himself with the authorship of the Treatise, that, in 
 the advertisement, he addresses his readers as if he 
 were then appearing as an author for the first time. 
 " Most of these essays,"' he says, " were Avrote with a 
 view of being published as weekly papers, and were 
 intended to comprehend the designs both of the 
 Spectators and Craftsmen. Put, having dropt that 
 undertaking, partly from laziness, partly from want of 
 leisure, and being willing to make trial of my talents 
 for writing before I ventured upon any more serious 
 compositions, I was induced to commit these trifles 
 to the judgment of the public. Like most new 
 authors, I must confess I feel some anxiety con- 
 cerning the success of my work ; but one thing makes 
 me more secure, that the reader may condemn my 
 abilities, but must approve of my moderation and 
 impartiality in my method of handling political sub- 
 jects; and, as long as mv moral character is in safety,
 
 .lvr. :*>-." 1. I1SSAYS 'lni;\i, AM) !'t d.I'I i( AI.. i;;; 
 
 I can. with less an x I< t \ . abandon my learnine; ami 
 capacity to tin' most severe censure ami (examination." 
 Some (if the subject-; oi' t li< *s* essays were not less 
 nntroihlen at the time when they appeared, than they 
 are hackneyed in the present day. ' >f these may be 
 cit 'il. The Liberty of the |'n>>:" "The Parties of 
 (iivat Lritaiu:" "The Independency of Parliament." 
 \\ hen they are compared with the ( 'i-nfhuniii. with 
 J//\ $' s.l ouritnl. and wit h t lie ot her periodicals of the day, 
 which had -et the example of discussing such subjects, 
 the>c e--ays as littl" resemble their precursor-, as 
 i >e Li time's "' Uemarks on the I Jritish Constitution" do 
 the articles in a daily London party paper. W hatever 
 he afterwards became, Hume was at that time no 
 party politician. lie retained tie- Stoic severity of 
 thought with which we have found that he had sixteen 
 wars previously invested himself: and would allow 
 tin.- excitements or r ward-; of no party in the state 
 to drae; him out of the even middle path of philo- 
 sophical observation. There is consequently a won- 
 derful impartiality in these e--ny-. and an acuteiiess 
 of observation, which to the reader, who keeps in 
 view how little the true workings of the constitution 
 We're noti(.'ed in that day. i- not h'-.-, remark able. I low 
 completely, for instance, has the wisdom of the 
 following observations in the essay on "'The Libert/ 
 
 of the I'l'es-." been jll-tilied bv tile experience of a 
 ' ' v. 
 
 W . ! 1 1...1 ,1,-. :i 1 I'p.im !h- lib. riy liny - i h ill .-.n- - 
 
 : llli II'- >f ! !,' ] . 'J.lll.ir d' 11,1 - 
 
 __!-;' \ ::.:.-:: i ' f II le . \ !. .: i '. ;i 1- ,\ 
 
 1 k <!' p enj-iik ;' !. ;il 'I < '.' . I n i. a, i n -( M 
 
 tV"Hi \\ 1 1 . 1 1 1 lie III!..' [:i--i..n l>\ . lii.i_i'.||. lb i.s 
 
 ii'l hurri' '1 :iu :iy ly 1 1. > I - I !: i : \ ;' :i ' : :.. And 
 
 M I ' ' :' - - !'.' . .- :i '.'"' ;.!'. tin. 10
 
 138 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1741-1742. 
 
 is no violent resolution presented to him by which he can im- 
 mediately vent his passion. The liberty of the press, therefore, 
 however abused, can scarce ever excite popular tumults or 
 rebellion. And as to those murmurs or secret discontents it 
 may occasion, "'tis better they should get vent in words, 
 that they may come to the knowledge of the magistrate before 
 it be too late, in order to his providing a remedy against them. 
 Mankind, 'tis true, have always a greater propension to 
 believe what is said to the disadvantage of their governors 
 than the contrary ; but this inclination is inseparable from 
 them whether they have liberty or not. A whisper may fly 
 as quick, and be as pernicious as a pamphlet. Nay, it will be 
 more pernicious, where men arc not accustomed to think 
 freely, or distinguish betwixt truth and falsehood. 
 
 It has also been found, as the experience of mankind in- 
 creases, that the people are no such dangerous monster as 
 they have been represented, and that 'tis in every respect 
 better to guide them like rational creatures, than to lead or 
 drive them like brute beasts. Before the United Provinces 
 set the example, toleration was deemed incompatible with 
 good government ; and 'twas thought impossible that a 
 number of religious sects could live together in harmony and 
 peace, and have all of them an equal affection to their common 
 country and to each other. England has set a like example 
 of civil liberty; and though this liberty seems to occasion 
 some small ferment at present, it has not as yet produced 
 any pernicious effects ; and it is to be hoped that men, being 
 every day more accustomed to the free discussion of public 
 affairs, will improve in their judgment of them, and be with 
 greater difficulty seduced by every idle rumour and popular 
 clamour. 
 
 "Tis a very comfortable reflection to the lovers of libertv, 
 that this peculiar privilege of Britain is of a kind that cannot 
 easily be wrested from us, and must last as long as our 
 government remains in any degree free and independent. 
 'Tis seldom that liberty of any kind is lost all at once. 
 Slavery has so frightful an aspect to men accustomed to 
 freedom, that it must steal in upon them by degrees, and 
 must disguise itself in a thousand shapes in order to be 
 received. But if the liberty of the press ever be lost, it must
 
 .Kr. r.o-M. 1->"<AYS MnR\l. AND POLITICAL. 
 
 11,0 
 
 be Inst at iiin.-f. Ilic L r, -ii''i"al laws ai;aiii-t srUitmn and 
 libelling an- at pivscui a-.-;r"!;_: as thv j-i>-ilIv -an bo 
 1 1 1 : i - 1 ! . .Vithin_ r I'an inip''^ 1 ' a farther ri -traint 1 > u t i-itlnT 1 1 1 - 
 I'lajijiiii^ an iiiinriinat nr u tn >n i!; j . i- - . . < i- 1 1 1 l; i \ i 1 1 if v i r v 
 laiv ili-"Ti-ti<>narv j .w- !-= i > if- -'in to puni-h whatever 
 (li>nlt'a-'-> tie m. Int thi i-..ii'*t -i-iii-; \Vi.ull li'- s . i < 1 i a 
 liaivi'a<''-'l vilati"ii ,<{ liberty, that tlcy will pmhahly be tli" 
 la-t i'tV..rt< ii" a (h'-ti.'t i'- LV'Venmieiit. W > iimv - . i i 1 1 1 1 -. 
 that ill' 1 iilnr'v <<{ liritain i> "/"lie l'"i' i-v r when t! 
 at ti'intit.-? shall .-U'-'-i !. 
 
 Tin' opinion generally acceded to at the present 
 dav, that ministerial and judicial functions should be 
 intrusted to responsible individuals, and not to bodies 
 of men who may individually escape from a joint respon- 
 sibility, is anticipated in the following passage : 
 Honour is a threat check upon mankind: but where 
 :i considerable body ol' men act together, this chock is 
 in a Li'retit measure removed, since a man is sure to 
 be unproved of by Ins own party for what promotes 
 tli" common interest, and he >oon learn< to despise 
 the idainoiir of adversaries." 1 The (iivnville Act, 
 and the subxMpient mea>ures for reducing' the number 
 of the judges on controverted elect ions, are a practical 
 commentary on the truth of this remark. 
 
 It has often been observed, that foreigners have been 
 the first to remark the leading peculiarities of the 
 Iiritish con-tit ut ion, and of the administration of 
 justice in this country, in a manner rational and un- 
 in:na--ioneil. yet so as to Live them greater promi- 
 nence, and ;i n, ore full descriptive development than 
 they obtain from our own inipa.-.-donod pariv writer.- 
 - an observation attc-t.-d by (he character which tin 
 
 Works of .Mulltexjlliell Ulld he Lo]llie held ill tl.i 
 
 preceding century, and tho>e of Thierrv. t'ottu 
 Mover, and Kauiner. have obtained in the present 
 1 l^.-av "ii the Iii'li i ii ; <".<'v .jf I'arliann nt.
 
 140 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1741-1742. 
 
 The reason of this superiority is to be sought in the 
 circumstance that the acuteness of these foreign ob- 
 servers was not obscured, or their feelings excited, by 
 any connexion with the workings of the systems they 
 have described ; and the isolation from active life in 
 which Hume was placed, appears to have in some 
 measure given him like qualifications for the examina- 
 tion of our political institutions. lie expresses a 
 general partiality for the monarchical government of 
 Britain, but it is a partiality of a calm utilitarian 
 character, which would not be inconsistent with an 
 equally great esteem for a well-ordered republic. On 
 his philosophical appreciation of its merits, the mon- 
 archy has no stronger claims than these that to have 
 an individual at the head of the government who is 
 merely the name through which other persons act, and 
 who is not amenable to any laws, while the real actors 
 are personally responsible for what they do in his 
 name, is an expedient arrangement. That it is very 
 convenient to have some fixed criterion such as the 
 hereditary principle, which shall obviate the trouble 
 and danger of a competition for this elevated station. 
 But that these arc all recommendations on the ground 
 of expediency, which may be outweighed by others, and 
 the misconduct of a weak or tyrannical prince will 
 justify an alteration in that arrangement, which con- 
 venience only, and the avoidance of occasions for 
 turbulence and anarchy, have sanctioned. 
 
 It may be observed, that in the edition of these 
 essays which lie directed to be published after his 
 death, many of those passages which bear a democra- 
 tic tendency are suppressed. Such was the fate of 
 the passage in " The Liberty of the Press" quoted 
 above, and of th^ remarks put within brackets in the 
 quotation which fellows, from the essay on "The 
 Parties of Great Britain."
 
 .K i. ;;<).;! i. lssavs m<>kal ami I'outical 
 
 in 
 
 Si ini<' wlii i will iini wiituiv t - a--' it. that 1 1 1 iv:il I i t V. i . 1 1 - * . 
 ln'twii-ii \\ 1 1 : _f ;i ii # 1 'I'nrv. wa- I -i .' tin- Ki wlut mil. - - 1 1 1 
 iiii-liii-'il tu think tint tic *1i:i~.-i--ii-- i- imu :i! 1 i In 1. : 1 1 1 1 
 
 tliit allair- aiv >n far pi-l urin > I t" tli> ii" Iiat ural t :t t *- that 
 t ! !:' a i-.' ;i! {>;-- r . T m> "th.T [iiti< - ;itii->ii_;-' u- I'Ut ruiirl 
 ail'! I'l'Miitrv ; tint i-. mi n v.l: <. !>v inl' i'i -' "i" i ri n>-i j >! *, :uv 
 a r ;:i ii'-r t'i ni"i r -h v "!' t" liln it v. ! t mil-! i 1 1 1 " I 
 
 Hi -- I. tli;i; tin' 'i'l'i-y [>art\ h:;- "f lati' 1 : i \ . . 1 
 immh i:i t It'ii' liiiuilii i>. -till nmiv iii tlmir /.:i\, :ni.l I 
 ma v wiituiv t'i >;iv. -I ill 1 1 1 r in t lmir I'tvdit a in I a'li imrity . 
 | Tin iv i- tin man ut" ki'.uw 1 I _r or haniim:. wlm \wuld i i . t !> 
 a-haumd t'i In' t!mu_dit "I' that party; aiul in aliim.-t all 
 ''.mjiaiii'-. tin' nanii' "t" ' >!! Wb'i-i i- imnt mmd a- an in>'"n- 
 ti-tihlc a]>|i'llati'in nt' huiimir and ili-nity. Arf"rdim_ly, tin- 
 fiii-mi' - di' the mini-try. a- a lvjinai'li. call tin- ciurt I - 1~ = tim 
 true '/'<</'>.-; aii'l. a- an hmmur. < 1 1 n < i i 1 1 1 1 : 1 1 1 1 1 1 - wiitkiimn 
 in tli" <>// >,-''''/> the true 1 1 */' -'; '.--. { Tlir T'li' - haw h< >n 
 su ] . . 1 1 _f . . i I i _ 1 tu talk in the f. } >u 1 1 i' -a n -tyh-. that tlmv 
 - "in in haw inail" ('"iivi-rt nf tli"iii-rl V"- hv t In-ir Ii VjMii-ri^v, 
 aiul t" ha\f . mhra.'i 1 tlm -"iithm :.i- a- w. ii a- laiuua_v ,,|' 
 th'ir adwr-ari"<. Tlmiv aiv. 1 ; .\ - \ < r. wry cm-id'Tali!" 
 r ii ail ut" that partv in l\n_dand. with all tlmir n|<| i n-i - 
 j ; i 1 ! i ; : aii' I a |>i""l' t hat rmirt ami ""un; ry ai'" ii"t "iir unlv 
 
 -. i-. that alnm.-t all cur di<-' in .-r- -id" with th" > n r t . 
 a ml th" I'.w.-r "!!_ v. at ! a-t "t' ; ! :" ( 'hurMi "l' fin.; land, with 
 th" "ji['"-it mm Thi- may ''i'ii\ ill"" u- that -"tiir hia- -t ill 
 hair- u[i"ii I'lir cnii.-t it ut i"iu -"iii" "\trm-i" \\ i !_: ] 1 1 whii'h 
 t'i';'- it li'i'in it- natural i-mir-", and ; i u .- - - a i'"nfu-i"ii in 
 i nir pari 
 
 iVrhaps t!i" ino.-t ainidiioiis of th' 1 o-avs. : 1 1 1 < 1 
 he-.' mi whiidi the author l>"-ti\vr.l im>-| of hi- .-kill 
 ml ;;' ' "iii n in. arc "Tim Kjiiruivaii." "Tim S'.nic," 
 
 iiui'i iini 
 tin- >t\ 
 
 ami I In- ri.aimii 
 : 1 1 1 ; ; ' i " ! i . i 
 i.'l (-!' /'//- .S 
 
 lie-'' ;']< j i ro- 
 ti] en ut ly l.y 
 rhc]'' l- no 
 
 : 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ] t rith'T to -njpj'oit or I" : 1 1 T : n k the .-y-ii'iu- 
 
 Miti'T,. I7s. 
 
 i la- i 
 hi wliirli ah" l!i" 
 
 ;.""u:i . ; . . l! ,!] : 
 hi: !: ; '. ' v. a - v.
 
 142 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. J741-1742. 
 
 represented by the names of the essays, nor is there a 
 description or definition of them ; but on each occa- 
 sion a member of one of these celebrated schools 
 speaks in his own person, and describes the nature 
 of the satisfaction that he finds in his own code 
 of philosophy, as a solution of the great difficulty of 
 the right rule of thought and action. " The Epicurean" 
 takes a flight of imagination beyond that of Hume's 
 other works. It departs from the cold atmosphere of 
 philosophy, and desires to fascinate as well as en- 
 lighten. But though it possesses all the marks of a 
 fine intellect, the reader is apt to feel how far more 
 sweetly and gracefully the subject would have been 
 handled by Addison, to whose department of literature 
 it seems rightly to belong. The follower of Epicurus 
 is not represented, as indulging in that gross licentious- 
 ness, as wallowing in that disgusting " stye " which 
 the representations of Diogenes Laertius, and others, 
 have impressed on the vulgar associations with the 
 name of that master. On the other hand, the picture 
 is far from embodying what many maintain to be the 
 fundamental precept of Epicurus, that happiness being 
 the great end sought by man, the proper method of 
 reaching it is by the just regulation of the passions 
 and propensities ; a precept embodied in the 
 
 "Spernc voluptatcs. Xocct empta dolere volnptas." 
 Hume, who was not correcting errors, or instructing 
 his readers in the true meaning of terms, or appre- 
 ciation of characters, draws in " The Epicurean " a 
 picture of one who is not gross or grovelling in his 
 pleasures, and who restrains himself lest he should 
 outrun enjoyment; but whose ruling principle is still 
 that of the voluptuary. 
 
 The render expects to find an attempt to draw his own 
 picture in "The Sceptic ;" but it is not to befound there.
 
 .Et. 3(>-r>l. ESSAYS Moral AND POLITICAL. 
 
 h: 
 
 The sceptic of the essays is not :i man analyzing the 
 principles of knowledge, to find wherein they consist, 
 hut on** who is dissntisiied with rules of morality, and 
 who, cxuininiiiLi; the current codes one after another, 
 tosses them aside as unsatisfactory. It is into "The 
 Stoic" that the writer has thrown most of his heart 
 ami sympathy: ami it is in that sketch that, though 
 pmhahly without intention, some of the features 
 of his own character are portrayed. There are 
 passages which have considerahlc unison of tone with 
 those autohio^raphical ilocuinents already quoted, in 
 which he descrihes himself as having luhoured to 
 suhdue the' relielliou.s passions, to reiluce the mind to 
 a regulated system, to drive from it the influence of 
 petty impressions, to hold one "Teat ohject of life in 
 view, and to sacriiice hefore that ohject whatever 
 
 s r 1 in tic way of his (irmly settled pnrpo-e. 
 
 ' )f the > nee<--s of these essays, and the method in 
 
 whicli he occupied hiuis' It" after their puhlication. he 
 
 tii'i- -peaks in his own life :"'" The work was 
 
 favoiirahly received, and soon made me entirely forget 
 
 my former disappointment. I continued with my 
 
 mother and hrotlcr in the country, and in that time 
 
 recovered the knowledge of the ( i reek laniiuaee, which 
 
 1 had too much neglected in my early youth." ( )n 
 
 loth dune. 17-1'J. he says to Henry Home: -The 
 
 A'vw///.s are ad sold in London, as 1 am informed hy 
 
 two letter- from Lneli-h icii; hum n of my uctpiuiu- 
 
 tance. Tiicr,- is a demand for them: and. as one of 
 
 them tolls ni". I mi vs. t he LM-cat !iook.o]lrr in Paul's 
 
 ( I ii iiyard, wonder- tlcre i- m>| a n ".v edition, lor 
 
 that he can ioj mid copie- |*i r hi- cu- i uict-. i am 
 
 also told tiiat Mr. Luthr ha- every where ivonn- 
 
 nmnded them: so that I hope they will have some 
 
 success. They mnv prove like dmii; with marl, an 1
 
 144 TnE LIF 0F DAVID HUME. 1742. 
 
 bring- forward the rest of my Philosophy, which is of 
 a more durable, though of a harder and more stubborn 
 nature. You see I can talk to you in your own style." 
 In consequeuce of this favourable reception, a second 
 edition appeared in 1742. 
 
 The communication of which the above is a part, 
 contains the following short essay on the Orations of 
 Cicero : 
 
 1 agree with you, that Cicero's reasonings in his "Orations" 
 are very often loose, and what we should think to he wander- 
 ing from the point ; insomuch, that now-a-days a lawyer, 
 who should give himself such liberties, would be in danger of 
 meeting with a reprimand from the judge, or at least of 
 being admonished of the point in question. His Orations 
 against Verres, however, are an exception ; though that 
 plunderer was so impudent and open in his robberies, that 
 there is the less merit in his conviction and condemnation. 
 However, these orations have all a very great merit. The 
 Oration for Milo is commonly esteemed Cicero's masterpiece, 
 and indeed is. in many respects, very beautiful ; but there 
 are some points in the reasoning of it that surprise me. The 
 true story of the death of Clodius, as we learn from the 
 Roman historians, was this : It was only a casual rencontre 
 betwixt Milo and him ; and the squabble was begun by their 
 servants, as they passed each other on the mad. Many of 
 Clodius'' s servants were killed, the rest dispersed, and him- 
 self wounded, and obliged to hide himself in some neighbour- 
 ing shops; from Avhcncc he was dragged out by Mi Jo's orders, 
 and killed in the street. These circumstances must have 
 been largely insisted on by the prosecutors, and must have 
 been proved too, since they have been received as truth by 
 all antiquity. But not a word of them in Cicero, whoso 
 oration only labours to prove two points, that Milo did not 
 waylay Clodius, and that Clodius was a bad citizen, and it 
 was meritorious to kill him. If you read his oration, you'll 
 nTcc with me. I believe that he has ^f.in-e spoke any thing 
 to tbe question, as it would now be conceived, by a court of 
 judical urn. 
 
 The Oration* for Marcellus and Ligarius, as also that for
 
 /I'r. : 1 
 
 CRITICISM <>N CTCKKt). 
 
 An-hia-v are very fiim, ami i-hiolv ho'ause the suhj-'.t- 1> 
 imt rnjuiiT ur a<linit nf ,'!>- ; . a- 'iiin_'. 
 
 'Ti- w.i rtii voir \\ hil.- t.i i'. i 1 i li. i - 1 1 < ! i i - i - 1 1 i if tiir Or 
 I'm' I'lam-iu-. w li. it 1 think ;ir.' \ <.ry wi li tmii-ln 1. 
 
 Th.iv :ir.' many null!.' j ; i - - i _- . - in 1 1 1 Orat'mn f"i" M urama, 
 tlmuji "ti- oTtain t!i;it tin- [.r"-.i'ut..r- ( .\h". h"Wiv,i', wa 
 S.'i'\ in- Suljiii'iu.-, ami Cat".) iiiu-t > it In r liav.> -ail m>t!iii, _r 
 t 'In' niii'in.-.'. ni- Ci.'.-iM liu- -ahl li'.tliiuj - . I'l" |-1 ' '" -' :i "-' 
 
 ' I'at "II !"-t 
 
 a iiloi-uiv t" I'l-ail ami o.nijnuv tin- 
 
 two lir -l 
 
 jiiii'ijiiii.'s. that yiiii may j m I _:* >>[' i in- maiim-i'.- "I 1 1 1 > .- . ' i r n < - , 
 I'.inijiar-'.l t" iiin.lirn manner.-. Winn Cirero r-|>"k.' the lir-t 
 |i]iiiij.j!i', Aiiti-ny aiul lie ha<l in>t hmke all measures with 
 ta.'h "t hi r. hut thifi' wi'i'.' . -till -iiiiit' l'riiiain- "t" ;i vi i'y _ i at 
 iiitima \v anil t'rii':nl>l.i[i hetwixt them; ami I - i . I. ~. do io 
 Ii\ .il in i'l"-.' on'i'i'-|Mimlrii''i' with all the iv-t <<[' (\'e-:\r"s eap- 
 tain- : D-lah, 11a 1 1 : t . 1 li.-. n hi- -i-H-in-law ; lliitiu- ami I*: ! i 
 wri'r hi- ]iii|iil- ; Tivha-iu- ua- eiitiivlv hi- eivat ui'i'. I'"i* 
 tlii- r. a-. )ii. [ ru i It -i : > iaiil him under ^r.-at iv-t I'aint- at that 
 il' -!a mat i> 'lis a_aui-t A lit >n v ; tln-iv i> _r. at 
 i !- _ ;:.'< a; i'l . ! i .! \ in 1 1 i 1 1 1 ; ami manv "l" the th"U_;'i1s 
 
 \i!'Viiu . f'll' .-'lllai'ly wiirl'i' I;.' Illi'llt i"ll- hi- 111. 'i'l 
 
 li; .' . '. wh- la 1 l,..'ii'"l.lim 1 t" leave l{..i.m. " I v,; h 
 
 im-.l." -ay- li". "that I < 1 1 1 ; - 1 r-t urn t " 1 \ "!;;. a i't-T !>rut us 
 
 ha 1 I'-I't it. aiul that I omM !.. in -at". ' v w li. iv he ouiLi ii"t." 
 
 In -h.ii't, tin' w li' ih' nrati i in i- .it' -:ii'!i a -train, ilia! tin- I hike 
 
 i if A '. ! m ... ni ha vc ,-[>..k" it in tin' I I ..u- "t" 1 * - i- a..ai:i-t 
 
 in v hud I >;T"i'il : an-l il - 1 1 'V w u!.l ma all i'.v tlm . : at* -t 
 
 . ii' - t" _" fai'tlii'i'. lint this iii-ati"ii i- mil niii'-h a iuiired 
 
 ly th. aiii-i ::i-. Tim />'>-,', /'''; /'. a- .Juvenal ''all- it, 
 
 !. win "i li.' o\ - a lull 1" i t" hi- - -urrility ; 
 
 . '1 \' t ha v m.:' a nv | mi tit t" -a in hv it. , v \\\\\ : 
 
 I ' . ' -. 
 
 ( !..;! : a ' ' :i ) he rah - int" all ' 
 
 i--t. r ; r. j 
 ami \ I I ''"'' ii'.li . :.', I \ !', " ; ; . 
 
 au.l \ . lian v. I ii ' - I 
 
 i f 1 i i ' - i ':'.;'. I ; 1 ' ' ' . I : . ' 
 
 . hi' _i",ii'ra! 1 \ a l'ii i 
 
 1 Tv:l .'- !.;:' m Ka:.m- ; '-. [ i.
 
 146 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1742-1743. 
 
 In 1742, Hutcheson published his celebrated outline 
 of a system of ethics, " Philosophic Moralis Institutio 
 Compendiaria." The following letter contains Hume's 
 remarks on the work ; and to render them more in- 
 telligible, the passages he had particularly in view are 
 printed in notes. It is not, however, as pieces of de- 
 tached criticism, so much as in the character of an 
 elucidation of those features of his own system in 
 which it differs from that of Hutcheson, that the 
 letter is valuable. It is an argument for the utili- 
 tarian system of morality an argument that there is 
 no summum bonum which should be the object of 
 moral conduct, apart from the good of the human 
 species. 
 
 Hume to Francis Hutcheson. 
 
 " Dear Sir, I received your very agreeable pre- 
 sent, for which I esteem myself much obliged to you. 
 I think it needless to express to you my esteem of 
 the performance, because both the solidity of your 
 judgment, and the general approbation your writings 
 meet with, instruct you sufficiently what opinion you 
 ought to form of them. Though } T our good nature 
 might prompt you to encourage me by some praises, 
 the same reason has not place witli me, however 
 justice might require them of me. Will not this 
 prove that justice and good nature are not the same? 
 1 am surprised you should have been so diffident about 
 your Latin. I have not wrote any in that language 
 these many years, and cannot pretend to judge of 
 particular words and phrases. But the turn of the 
 whole seems to me very pure, and even easy and 
 elegant. 
 
 "1 have subjoined a few reflections, which occurred 
 to me in reading over the book. By these I pretend
 
 .Kr. ,'ii-:;_- c/<>kRi;sro.\i>i;v i; WITH 111 TCIII.xeV jj; 
 
 only to show you how much I thought my. self obii^'-d 
 to you fur tlif pains you took \\ i 1 1 1 n.e in ;i like en-'', 
 ami how willing 1 am to In- Lirnteful. 
 
 " 1 '. .'. 1. nit. it i/ntr a- , : These in.-tincts you 
 Mention seem not always to lie viuh-ni and impetuous, 
 more tiian .- 1 1-l- >\ < or benevolence. There i> a calm 
 ambition, a calm anevr or hatred, which, though calm, 
 may liiv''\\ i -c he very .-Iron-, and have the ahsolute 
 eonmiand over the mind. idle more ab.-olute they 
 are. wo lind thorn to be commonly the calmer. As 
 tho-o in.-tincts may lie calm without heiim weak, so 
 >oll-love may lij<i^\ isc heconu 1 impetuous and dis- 
 turbed, especially where any ufi'eat pain or ph-usure 
 approaches. 
 
 "' I*. - 1 . 1. I 1 .- In opposition to tins. 1 >haii e- i t ' a 
 lino write]-. not tor the sake of his authority, hut tor 
 
 1 Aii ho ; i : 1 1 1 1 1 1 hi"! liiii- jiurii 1 1 1 i i -. ; r. 1 1 1 1 1 1 ! i i - -i;ao 
 , . . :.'...' iiii ;r ii;;i'i'. 1 1 \ . i - i | 
 i ii- '| miam v t i . > 1 1 ! 1 1 r i"! i-- i'i j adai'i 
 ::.li:iliir 1 1 1 : j _ urn <<] \i i" i] -i 
 . -at ui". ai'j . i-i' . " 1 1 m>i la in ini] < ' '.. \< it nr ad ( an 'lam a_> mla, 
 i -i j ui i i 1 1 a . a m 1 1 1 iri i 1 1 1 1 a . i j 1 1 a 1 1 1 \ i - 1 1 < > i i 1 1 i 1 1 1 . a 1 i 1 1 1 > i i a 1 1 i r > 1 1 I : u 1 1 1 
 rat imi I-, -''i'ii ii i i.-ral liar a>l \ nam i . t < . m-1 1" ai.iai \ al ini-i ram. 
 I 1 . i : - ' j a i i i i t ' ' ; ! : ;' i . ' | a i . i 1 1 - > 1 ' r i 1 ' 1 > 1 1 - . i 1 1 1 1 1 < l n " r i a 1 1 1 
 i-i'\ 1 1 ninii iinjifOi tiaa at ai'ii'i'l a-. '| | , . . i i 
 hi iii ii nr. ami ill i i in', ira. ml in. ia\ alia. ;uii"iv. 1 ; i t ii la. a ui n,' In. 
 lal'al . . . I 'i>' raiann ivriini, j i i:n mmiiriii c mi:i"\ > - 
 rani, nil a ad \itain Lratam an' ini-rram -i-nu r '_ r iiarat. < v ' ml 
 . ..i M ! lin'.,:.' i i ; i 
 1 i 'I", mm \ !'". i . iuc ai'i"-; .I a :;..., 
 
 I i . i \ \ . i n ! i ' i 1 1 1 ] 
 
 .ill . '' \ al' in ar |'t':i'"ii! . I * 
 -na- v ii'--. :'. .!;. .!.--. ->-\ . \ . :;|.| . : | 
 
 IIH-Ii-. i-.r| ;'' . 'I' ' i 
 
 [ \ in ill ; ai'|" I'.ail 
 
 iiiiiiiiii' i i'i iiinii'i 'I'amt r.r ; tii-'i'; i . i i. . 
 
 I'tlli: ' . '
 
 148 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1742-1743. 
 
 the fact, which you may have observed. ' Les hommes 
 comptent presque pour rien toutes les vertus du 
 cceur, et idolatrent les talens du corps et de l'esprit : 
 eclui qui dit froidement de soi, et sans croire blesscr 
 hi modestie, qu'il est bon, qu'il est constant, fidele, 
 sincere, equitable, reconnoissant, n'ose dire qu'il est vif, 
 qu'il a les dents belles et la peau douce : cela est trop 
 fort.' La Bruyerc} 
 
 " I fancy, however, this author stretches the matter 
 too far. It seems arrogant to pretend to genius or 
 magnanimity, which are the most shining qualities a 
 man can possess. It seems foppish and frivolous to 
 pretend to bodily accomplishments. The qualities of 
 the heart lie in a medium ; and are neither so shining 
 as the one, nor so little valued as the other. I sup- 
 pose the reason why good nature is not more valued, 
 is its commonness, which has a vast effect on all our 
 sentiments. Cruelty and hardness of heart is the 
 most detested of all vices. I always thought you 
 limited too much your ideas of virtue ; and I find I 
 have this opinion in common with several that have a 
 very high esteem for your philosophy. 
 
 " P. oO, 1. antcpen. et quce scq. 2 You seem here to 
 
 1 Sec Cdractcrcs Oh. 11. De L'bomme. 
 
 2 Qui multiplicem sen.suum borum perspexerit varietatem, quibus 
 re.s adco dispares bo-minibus commendantur iippctcndao ; animiquo 
 projiensioucs pariter multiplicem, et mutabiles; et inter so saepe 
 pugnantes appetitus, et desideria, quibus suam quisque imcquitur 
 utilitatem, camquc variain, aut non minus variam voluptatem ; earn 
 ciiain ingenii liuinanitatem, afl'ectioncsquc benignas multiplices ; 
 liiimana huie natura prima specie videbitur, cbaos quoddam, rudisquc 
 rerum non bene junctarr.m mules, nisi altius repetendu, uexum 
 (jiiendam, et ordincin a natura constitutum, et principatum depre- 
 liondcrit, aut r l yr l [Mvr/.fo aliquod, ad modum caeteris puuendum 
 idoneum. Philosopbiae munus et hue investigare, atque monstrare 
 i|iia denuim ratione liaec sint ordinanda; mini enim artifieio 
 
 Hanc Dun*, et melior litem natura dimiiit.
 
 A", i. ::i-.-j. I'uIilUMMMU'.Vcr. WITH HITCH i;si N\ ] |<j 
 
 omhrace I >r. I>utli'i\s opinion in his "Sermons on 
 1 1 u !i,. 'in Nature." that our moral >"ii>e lias an authority 
 distiiR't from its force uml durahh-ness ; ami that l"- 
 cuusc we always think it <>">//// t<> prevail. Hut this 
 is nothing hut an instinct or principle, which approves 
 of it- If upim ivllectiou. ami that is common to all of 
 Ili"in. 1 am imt sure that I have not mistaken your 
 sense, since ynu <lo not prosecute this thought. 
 
 '" ! '. .">!'. 1.1. 1 fancy you employ the epithet 
 a ,->'/,, u'l-ii/ii ' more from custom than your settled 
 opinion. 
 
 I '. I '_'!. ' ' ijKd' si ij'r \ on sometimes, in my opinion, 
 he the original of property ami justiee to puhlie 
 hem.'volenee, ami sometimes to jirivate henevohaice 
 {' >v\ a I'ls tii posses.-or> ot tie- li'oi > ! ' : neith' , r ol w hich 
 ><'rm to me satisfactory. \mi know my opinion on 
 this In a'l. It mnrtiti.'S nm much to see a person who 
 pn--rs-e.-; more candour ami jienetratioii than any 
 alum-t 1 know, condemn reasonings of which 1 imae'ine 
 
 I .-ee x, -troliidy the evidence. 1 was e-, i |_.- ;,i hlof 
 out this after having wrote it, hut hope you will con- 
 sider it only as a piece of folly, as imleeil it is. 
 
 l. 'J i I. 1. r. :; You are so mue!, afraid t > .1 uuve 
 any thine; of virt ue from art i lice or human coin 'lit ions, 
 that you have ):_! c'ed what wins to n;e th<. nmst 
 
 i I i- vil Mill <! ;u'ruii!ii'i-:iin. 
 
 '. ! /' I) .-. > ' ('.. I /,' 
 
 : | ' i : 1 - : i 1 *' r ' 5 1 1 1 
 
 I ' l ; | ' . < J . 
 
 I . ; ..' ' : . , ' :.!'.' iln-ln:.' 
 
 ] . .- \ . 1 > i ; .t 
 
 ... 
 
 iii- eaiitur. 
 
 \ .i :
 
 150 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1742-1743, 
 
 satisfactory reason, viz. lest near relations, having so 
 many opportunities in their youth, might debauch 
 each other, if the least encouragement or hope was 
 given to these desires, or if they were not easily re- 
 pressed by an artificial horror inspired against them. 
 
 " P. 2G3, 1. 14. As the phrase is true Latin, and 
 very common, it seemed not to need an apology, as 
 when necessity obliges one to employ modern words. 1 
 
 " P. 2GG, 1. 18, et qv.ee seq? You imply a con- 
 demnation of Locke's opinion, which, being the received 
 one, I could have wished the condemnation had been 
 more express. 
 
 " These are the most material things that occurred 
 to me upon a perusal of your ethics. I must own I 
 am pleased to see such just philosophy, and such 
 instructive morals to have once set their foot in the 
 schools. I hope they will next get into the world, 
 and then into the churches. 
 
 Nil desperandum, Teucro duce et auspice Teucro. 
 
 " Edinr.Jan. 10, 1740." 
 
 Among the Scottish gentry of Hume's day, there were 
 many men of high education and accomplishments: and 
 the glimpses we occasionally obtain into the society 
 which he frequented, show us a circle possessing a much 
 less provincial tone than later times would probably 
 
 1 This is in reference to the word ilcsnotica being put in italics 
 as a modern barbarism. 
 
 2 Ci vium (|uis(juc non sibi solum, vcrum et libcris, a civitate 
 defensionem stipulatur, et omnia vitao civilis commoda. Libcris 
 gestum est negotium utilissimum; undo citra suum consensmn, ad ea 
 omnia pro ipso rum viribus, facienda praestanda adstringuntur, <juae 
 ob istiusmodi commoda ab adultis jure Uagitari poterant. Nihil 
 autem aequius nuam ut singuli, pro virili parte, earn tueantur civi- 
 tatem, ne<|uo ab ea intemncstive discedant, cujus benefieio diu 
 protecti. innumeris potiti fuerant vitae excultae commodi.s; utquo 
 haec a majoribus aeeepta ad postero.s transmittant.
 
 Ait. :n-3-2. the Scottish ukntry 
 
 l .* l 
 
 have exhibited in tin 1 -ame class. The notion that a 
 university was a scat of 1- : t is ; i : : .;. where tin? scholar- 
 ship ot' all tin- worhl should meet, an 1 imt a provin- 
 cial school, still lingered in our country, and prompted 
 the Lj'iitry to educate their m>I!> abroad. In the 
 sixteenth and seventeenth centnries. the registers of 
 the universities of Paris, iloureys, holo^mi, and 
 hoyden, were crowded with familiar Scottish name-, 
 nn we tiinl holding as ojreat a jrojiortion anions,' 
 the I'-aehers as anions the learner.-: and thus a \\ il- 
 son, a I 'arclny. a Ihdlenden, a da'-];, and many others, 
 who.-e fame hardly reached their native country, 
 are conspicuous anions the literary ornaments of th" 
 foreign universities. It is perhaps in a Li'eat measure 
 to the 1 i n Li'< ' i" i 1 1 u" coiitiuiuine" of this praetiee through 
 part of the eighteenth century, that we may attribute 
 learning and aeeonipli-l.nients id" the society in 
 Si-- >: Ian 1 duriiie; that peri.nl. 1 
 
 '.Many are j t -^ who have never penned their 
 
 in-iurnthui. and perchanc" the 1 hot." .Many al-o are 
 
 losoplnu-.s who have never cither penned their 
 nhilo>o]'hv. or put it into shape in their own minds. 
 Th'' two operations of induct urn and analysis proceed 
 in every human mind with mere or less s nve-s : hut 
 it is only when liferarv ambition, or pecuniary 
 necessity, or the desire to head a system, prompts a 
 man to colh-ct and j, u { into -hap" tlmir iv-nlt-. that 
 
 1 I :.' ]; [> ,, i,t' -.'ti'lm \- s n : _r i.ini i.i ; !. 
 
 :. ' i..i i .'.. : ' 
 
 !, \\p. i :...:,. . 
 
 I. . 
 
 :i i';n .: ' ll ' 
 tV.'.|ii.'!itly t'nil.i'Ai i l.j. i! 
 ''ciitli'inuii. 
 
 in i a., iiitrv
 
 152 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1742-1743. 
 
 they are given tc the world. Instances have occurred 
 in which they have appeared very nearly in their raw 
 un wrought form. Thus, Tucker's " Light of Nature" 
 is nothing more than the reflections of an English 
 country gentleman, collected and strung together. 
 I'aley and Reid used them as if they had themselves 
 gone through the operation, and put the results into 
 shape ; while the late William Hazlitt was at the 
 pains of writing an abridgment of the book. It was 
 fortunate for philosophy that these disconnected 
 observations and thoughts were collected and pre- 
 served. And the reflection leads to the recollection 
 of the quantity of valuable thoughts that any man, 
 who notices the course of conversation around him, 
 hears produced and dropped. In after-dinner social 
 intercourse, in general verbal criticism of books or men, 
 how much of the gold of true philosophy is scattered 
 away with the dross ; lost almost at the moment it is 
 uttered, and forgotten both by hearer and speaker. 
 
 It is interesting to have so much of this valuable 
 matter, as may have found its way into epistolary 
 correspondence, preserved. The conversation of 
 Hume's friends we have unfortunately lost, for there 
 was no Boswell at his elbow. But their letters show 
 how much of scholarship, and elegant literature, and 
 philosophy slumbered in the minds of the Scottish 
 gentry of that age ; and assure us that in his inter- 
 course with an Elliot, a Mure, an Edmonstone, an 
 Elibank, a Macdonald, an Oswald, Hume was 
 exchanging ideas with men not unworthy of literary 
 fellowship with a mind even so highly cultivated as 
 his own. 
 
 William Mure of Caldwell, who was in 1761 made 
 a Baron of the Exchequer in Scotland, was among 
 those who seem to have earliest secured and longest
 
 J'.r. r,l -:'_. COUIlKSPOXDKNn: WITH Ml'KK. 
 
 i;3 
 
 retained Hume's esteem. Tin: letters which passed 
 between 1 1 1 < 1 1 1 arc not o t't n dated, hut the circum- 
 stances under which many of them are written are 
 attested by internal evidence. The following is one 
 of tli'' few whirl do net admit of bein^ thus tested, 
 hut its merit is in a vein of ijuiet, easv. epistolary 
 humour, rather than in its connexion with the events 
 , liter's life. 
 
 Ill" Mr: to William .Mill <>f ' Culdv-11. 
 
 "S.j '. ,,,' > in. 
 
 "1 mad'' a pen, dipt it in ink. and set myself down 
 in a posture of writing, hefore 1 had thought of any 
 Mihjeet. or made provision of one siimle thought, by 
 which I miaht entertain yon. I trusted to my better 
 genius that he would supply jne in a case of such 
 urgent necessity: hut having thrice scratched my head, 
 and thrice hit my nails, nothing presented itself, and 
 1 threw away my pen in u r reat indignation. '<>' 
 thou instrument of dulness," says I, ' doest thou 
 .' .sort mi' iii my greatest necessity ' and. h ine; t h\ self 
 so false a friend, hast then a secret repugnance at 
 expressing my friendshiji to the faithful Mure, who 
 knows thee too well ever to trust to thy reprices, and 
 who never takes thee in his hand without reluctance. 
 While I. miserable wretch that I am. have put inv 
 chi'd eon lid i -nee in thee ; and. relimpii shine; the -wind, 
 the --own. the cassock, and the toilette, have trusted 
 to thee alone for my fortune and my fame. I'd-mie ' 
 avaunt ! Ueturn to the l:ooso from win nee tl.oii 
 earnest. W ith her thou wa-t of some use. while 
 
 tholl CiUIVeyeilst her tlilullu.ll the eth'iial re^imis. 
 
 And why, alas' when plucked from her wine;, and put 
 into my hand, doest thou not recognise some similitude 
 betwixt it and thv native soil, and render me the
 
 154 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1742-1743. 
 
 same service, in aiding the flights of my heavy imagina- 
 tion?' 
 
 " Thus accused, the pen erected itself upon its 
 point, placed itself betwixt my fingers and my thumb, 
 and moved itself to and fro upon this paper, to inform 
 you of the story, complain to you of my injustice, and 
 desire your good offices to the reconciling such ancient 
 friends. But not to speak nonsense any longer, (by 
 which, however, I am glad 1 have already filled a 
 page of paper.) I arrived here about three weeks 
 ago, am in good health, and very deeply immersed in 
 books and study. Tell your sister, Miss Betty, (after 
 having made her my compliments,) that I am as grave 
 as she imagines a philosopher should be, laugh only 
 once a fortnight, sigh tenderly once a week, but look 
 sullen every moment. In short, none of Ovid's 
 metamorphoses ever showed so absolute a change 
 from a human creature into a beast ; I mean, from a 
 gallant into a philosopher. 
 
 ' ; I doubt not but you see my Lord Glasgow very 
 often, and therefore I shall suppose, when I write to 
 one, I pay my respects to both. At least, 1 hope he 
 will so far indulge my laziness. Heme veniam peti- 
 mus(jue damusque vicisaim. 
 
 " Did you receive my letter from Glasgow ? I hope 
 it did not displease you. What arc your resolutions 
 with regard to that affair ? 
 
 "Remember me to your sister, Miss Nancy, to Miss 
 Dunlop, and to Mr. Leechman. Tell your mother, 
 or sisters, or whoever is most concerned about the 
 matter, that their cousin, John Steuart, is in England, 
 and, as 'tis believed, will return with a great fortune. 
 
 J say not a word of Mr. Hutcheson, for fear you 
 should think 1 intend to run the whole circle of my 
 West-country acquaintance, and to make you a bearer
 
 J:.:>1"_\ CORKKSI'oNhKNCi; WITH MIRK. J.-;, 
 
 of a Lfi't'at many formal compliments, hut 1 remember 
 you all very kindly, and 1* - i i- to 1"' remembered by 
 
 vmi. and to he spoke of sometimes, and to 1"' wrote to." 
 The following letter is in reference to Mr. Mure 
 bavin"' lti'i'ii eliosi'ii nit'iid'i'i" of Parliament for Ken- 
 fivw-diire as successor to Alexander < 'uniiinnliani. on 
 -" d"utli a new writ wa < moved on L'lM November, 
 17!li. The advie-' which this letter offers to a young 
 -talesman. seems to he hotli sagacious and honest. 
 
 IIi.mi: tu William Mtui; <>/' ( 'nhhr, II. 
 
 " I have wrote to M r. < >swahl " hy this post, in order 
 to promote' an intimacy and friendship hetwixt you. 
 1 exhort you to persevere in your intention of culti- 
 vating a friendship with him. \ mi cannot possibly 
 fill '1 a man of more worth, of a LV'iithT disposition, or 
 I * t understanding. There are intinite advantages. 
 attending an intimacy wit It such person-;; anionic 
 ieh this is imt th" least, as far as 1 can judev by 
 my own experience, that I always derive from it an 
 additional motive to preserve my character for honour 
 and integrity; because I know that nothing else can 
 preserve tln-ir friendship. Should I uive you an 
 exhortation of this kind, you miejit think me very 
 imjiertin' nt : though really you ouu'ht to ascribe it 
 to my friend-hip, than my ditiidenee. "his 
 [io--:ible cvt r to tiiink ourselvs secure enough, 
 X'-' i - i'" onr cuicern is extremely Liuvaf : and. though 1 
 he (( in f idea < <if vaeir u'ood comluct. as ot' m\ own. 
 Vet \ nil III u-t also allow me f.) be 1 1 i { ! i . 1 . t 1 1 <if it. as 1 
 -lit nili] be nt' my own. \\ icn 1 cin-iih r \<nir dis- 
 position to virtue, cnltivated bv letters. t< '".'ether with 
 
 ; ms. i;.-.::. 
 f l >_'_>. ].. i;a:.. 
 - Mr. n 
 
 in t!;.' /. r ir , Ciz.tte
 
 15G THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1742-1743. 
 
 your moderation, I cannot doubt of your steadiness. 
 The delicacy of the times does not diminish this 
 assurance, but only dashes it with a few fears, which 
 rise in me without my approbation, and against my 
 judgment. Let a strict frugality be the guardian of 
 your virtue ; and preserve your frugality by a close 
 application to business and study. Nothing would so 
 effectually throw you into the lumber and refuse of 
 the house as your departure from your engagements 
 at this time ; as a contrary behaviour will secure your 
 own good opinion, and that of all mankind. These 
 advantages are not too dearly purchased even by the 
 loss of fortune, but it belongs to your prudence and 
 frugality to procure them, without paying so dear a 
 purchase for them. I say no more ; and hope you 
 will ascribe what I have said, not to the pedagogue, 
 or even to the philosopher, but to the friend. I make 
 profession of being such with regard to you ; and 
 desire you to consider me as such no longer than I 
 shall appear to be a man of honour. Yours." 
 
 January 2C. 1 
 
 Among Hume's friends in early life, we find James 
 Oswald of Dunnikier, who is mentioned in the fore- 
 going letter a name pretty well known in the politi- 
 cal history of Scotland, lie was elected member for 
 the Kirkaldy district of burghs in 1741. He tilled suc- 
 cessively the situations of Commissioner of the Navy, 
 Member of the Board of Trade, Lord of the Treasury, 
 and Treasurer of Ireland. He was well read in 
 the sources of literary information, and brought to 
 his official duties a sagacious, practical understanding, 
 which made him infinitely serviceable to the specula- 
 tive labours of his two illustrious friends, Hume and 
 1 MS. It.S.E. Literary Gazette, 1822, ]>. 635.
 
 A'a. r,i-r,-2. 
 
 Ml' UK AM) < >S\VAM>. 
 
 Smith. *' I know." says Ilume, "you are tho n.o-t 
 industrious and tin- most iinlnli-nt man of my acquain- 
 tance: tin' former in hiiMiie-s, tin- latter in ceremony/' 1 
 \\ e have occasional glimpses of philosophical ramhlfs, 
 not unmi\eil with a little convivial it v. in \\ hich < >.>wald 
 ,-oini't inn s einharked with his speculative friends. 
 " ^ on will reuiemher/' he savs, writing to Henry 
 Home in 1 7 I-. " how your friend havidllume ami 
 you, u.-ed to hnmh at a most suldime declamation 1 
 i ne ni'j;ht made, after a drunken expedition to ('upar, 
 (-'i the imjioteiicy of corruption in certain circum- 
 stances: how I maintained, that on certain occasions, 
 m< n felt, or seemed to feel, a certain dignity in tla m- 
 s'dves, which made them disdain to act on sordid 
 motives: and how I imagined it to he extreiic ly 
 j.os-ihle. in such situation-, that e\cn the lowest <d" 
 ii. i n miuht heconii' superior to the ];:_;'.-: tempta- 
 The political course which he afterwards 
 pt '. !.< >w < vi r. was not pive; -ely of this soaring cast, 
 ! ut >;i\i ured mole of the school of practical expedh iits 
 founded l.y Sir Kohert Walpole. W'c shall after- 
 ward s have occasion to see hi.- intercourse with 1 1 nam 
 illiist rati d at lim ater length. 
 
 Tic following letter to .Mure, contains a piettv 
 sagacious division of the prominent political move- 
 ment ; i,.f the day. into t hose \\ hich a supporter of the 
 our! | ";. w ould advocate, and t ho-e w hich he w ould 
 pi - Hume .,, mis to /.'. !.: 1 s.m lr- ad ! -! 
 :!. ; iii: !' what wa- then \. rme.l patriotism, mi:. hi 
 ''-. p"i'i"ueed. \ ounu. and u-p;riu j; poii: 
 id ' i i ' wit! I I.' i ".id 
 
 ( >\ ' d 1 1 1 \ ; i 1 an: i p t i p a l t \ . I > a ' Mure 
 
 eiic.sfo have In- a a .-a^aciou- st e:id\ -minded man, 
 not likel\ to he , duced out of the path he hadel.--",,. 
 
 : M. -:;.!:. :'. -I !.,!! ( I ^:iM. I . " Ik !. la _'".
 
 158 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1742-1743. 
 
 He was subsequently much relied on by Lord Bute, and 
 rose to eminence and distinction as a Tory politician. 
 The letter exhibits a playful practice of talking of 
 his correspondents as his pupils, which Hume adopted 
 sometimes with those who had least sympathy with 
 his principles, unless they were clergymen, or other- 
 wise likely to take the familiarity in bad part. 
 
 Hume to William Mure of Caldwell. 
 
 " I am surprised you should find fault with my 
 letter. For my part, I esteem it the best I ever 
 wrote. There is neither barbarism, solecism, equi- 
 voque, redundancy, nor transgression of one single 
 rule of grammar or rhetoric, through the whole. The 
 words were chosen with an exact propriety to the 
 sense, and the sense was full of masculine strength 
 and energy. In short, it comes up fully to the Duke 
 of Buckingham's description of fine writing, Exact 
 propriety of rvords and thought. This is more than 
 what can be said of most compositions. But I shall 
 not be redundant in the praise of brevity, though much 
 might be said on that subject. To conclude all, I 
 shall venture to affirm, that my last letter will be 
 equal in bulk to all the orations you shall deliver, 
 during the two first sessions of parliament. For, let 
 all the letters of my epistle be regularly divided, they 
 will be found equivalent to a dozen of No's and as 
 many A//s. There will be found a No for the trien- 
 nial bill, for the pensiou bill, for the bill about regulat- 
 ing elections, for the bill of pains and penalties against 
 Lord Orford, &c. There will also be found an Ay 
 for the standing army, 1 for votes of credit, for the 
 approbation of treaties, &c. As to the last No I 
 
 1 This refers to the taking Hanorerian troops into British pay, 
 vvarmlv debated in the House of Commons on 10th December, 1742.
 
 jet.m-m. ('Ork].>1'<>.\"m:m'i: with mi hi:. 
 
 !.";> 
 
 mentioned, with r</;inl to Lord Urt'onl, I beg it of 
 you us a j articular favour. For. having published to 
 all liritain my sentiments on that aliair.it will he 
 thouulit 1-y all IJritain that I have no influence (.11 
 you. it' your sentiments lie not conformable to mine. 
 Besides, as you arc my disciple in religion and morals, 
 why should vim not he mi in polities '. 1 entreat you 
 to Let the bid about witches repealed, and to move for 
 -tune new bill to secure t he ( liristian religion,!.}' burning 
 |)eists. Socinians, Moralists, and I lutchinsonians. 
 
 I shall be in town about Christmas, where, if I find 
 not herd (llasgow. I shall cone down early in the 
 spring to the borders of the Atlantic < >cean, and re- 
 joice the Tritons and sea-uods with the prospect of 
 Kelburn ' in a blaze. For 1 find, that is the only 
 way to ;...:.estle his lordship. I Jut I intend to use the 
 freedom to write to himself on this subject, if you will 
 t< 11 )! " how to direct to him. In the meantime do 
 you make use of ail your eloquence and argument to 
 that purpose. 
 
 Make my liumlde compliments to the ladies, and 
 tell them, 1 should endeavour to sati-d'y them, if they 
 would name the subject of the essay they desire. For 
 my part, 1 know not a better subject than themselves; 
 if it were not. that beine; accused of bein^ unintelligible 
 in some of my writings, I should be extremely in 
 dauu'T of falling' into that fault, when I should treat 
 of a subject so little to be understood as women. I 
 would, therefore, rather have them assign me the 
 ileiform bold >| the sold, the passive unions of limbing 
 wiih ] m ) 1 i 1 1 1 1 _;" . or any other of those mvstical point-, 
 which 1 would ciideayoiir to char up, and render per- 
 
 Allow not Miss Muidop to forget, that she has a 
 
 'I'!." Karl r,f (Ha : *' ! , --. , n tl., n :.- ..f Avr.-hin
 
 ICO THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1743-1744. 
 
 humble servant, who has the misfortune to be divided 
 from her, by the whole breadth of this island. I 
 know she never forgets her friends ; but, as I dare 
 not pretend to that relation, upon so short an ac- 
 quaintance, I must be beholden to your good offices for 
 preservingme in hermemory; because I suspect mightily 
 that she is apt to forget and overlook those who can 
 aspire no higher than the relation I first mentioned. 
 
 " This, I think, is enough in all conscience. T see 
 you are tired with my long letter, and begin to yawn. 
 What ! can nothing satisfy you, and must you grumble 
 at every thing? I hope this is a good prognostic of 
 your being a patriot." 1 
 "Nov. lUh." 
 
 In the course of these Memoirs there will be many 
 occasions for exhibiting Hume's acquaintance with 
 some of the most distinguished clergymen of his time, 
 and the mutual esteem which he and they entertained 
 towards each other. Among those members of the 
 Presbyterian church, with whom he appears to have 
 had the most early intercourse, we find the name of 
 Dr. Leechman, who was his senior by about five 
 years. They probably got acquainted with each 
 other in the family of the Mures of Caldwell, where 
 Leechman had been tutor to Hume's friend and corres- 
 pondent. Wliatever other jealousies or distastes may 
 have occurred between them, it would be no draw- 
 back to their subsequent intimacy, that Leechman 
 was by his marriage with Miss Balfour, the brother-in- 
 law of one of Hume's most zealous controversial oppo- 
 nents, Mr. Balfour of Pilrig. Dr. Leechman was for 
 many years professor of divinity in the university of 
 Glasgow, of which he afterwards became principal. 
 1 MS. R.S.E. Literary Gazette, 1822, p. GOO.
 
 Jvr. :?2-.33. 
 
 DR. LKECIIMAN. 
 
 1CI 
 
 His sermons, now little known, stood at one time in 
 formidable rivalry with those of I Hair. He appears 
 
 to have been a man who united settled religious prin- 
 ciples with a calm conscientious inquiring mind; and 
 the account which his biographer, the Rev. .lames 
 ^ odrow. gives of his lectures, is characteristic of one 
 who had too much respect for truth to hate or con- 
 temn any man mummed in purely metaphysical 
 inquiries, whatever might he the (pinions to which 
 they lr,l him. We are told, that "no dictatorial 
 opinion, no infallible or decisive judgment on any 
 great controverted point, was ever delivered from that 
 theological chair. After the point had undergone a 
 full discussion, none of the students yet knew the 
 particular opinion of this venerable professor, in any 
 other way than by the superior weight of the argu- 
 ments which he had brought under their view : so 
 delicately scrupulous v. as he to threw any bias at all 
 upon ingenuous mind.-, in their inquiries after sacred 
 truth." 1 
 
 There is a letter by Hume to Daren Mure, con- 
 taining a criticism on the composition and substance 
 of a sermon by Dr. Leechinan. From the camera! 
 tenor of the letter, it would ape. air that the Sermon 
 was placed in Hume's hands that the author might 
 lave the advantage of his suggestions in preparing 
 a second edition for the press. The criticisms on 
 style and collocation are careful and minute, bat they 
 ail in lieate blemishes peculiar to the piece ei' coa.po -i- 
 tie'ii before the critic, and surest eoi i\ spending i:.:- 
 jiroveiie uts; and none of them appear so fir to illus- 
 trate anv canon of critici.-m as to 1).' intelligible to a 
 
 1 SrniH'ii- liv Wnl::::.i I 
 f-wiiii- iH't'iunii ni' (in 1 au'li 
 Wn.it-uw, I). I). 1>:>. I. ,14. 
 \('L. I. 
 
 .in. i >.l l. I'> v. iih-ii i- i v< !ixi>U 
 .', ic.i'l hi- I'L.ir.n'ki'. lv Jauic- 1
 
 162 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. J 743-1744. 
 
 reader who has not the sermon in his hands, in the 
 same state as that in which it was inspected by 
 Hume. These corrective annotations precede the fol- 
 lowing general remarks on the sermon and its subject. 
 There may be seen in these remarks a desire, which 
 haunts the whole of Hume's waitings on kindred 
 subjects ; a desire to call forth argument and evidence 
 in support of that side from which he himself feels 
 inclined to dissent ; like the unsatisfied feeling of one 
 who would rather find refuge in the argumentative 
 fortress of some other person, than remain a sceptical 
 wanderer at his own free will. 
 
 Hume to William Mure of Caldwell. 
 
 " These are all the minute faults I could observe 
 in the sermon. Mr. Leechman has a very clear and 
 manly expression ; but, in my humble opinion, he does 
 not consult his ear enough, nor aim at a style which 
 may be smooth and harmonious, which, next to 
 perspicuity, is the chief ornament of style ; vide Cicero, 
 Quinctilian, Longinus, &c. &c. &c. If this sermon 
 were not a popular discourse, I should also think it 
 might be made more concise. 
 
 " As to the argument, I could wish Mr. Leechman 
 would, in the second edition, answer this objection both 
 to devotion and prayer, and indeed to every thing we 
 commonly call religion, except the practice of morality, 
 and the assent of the understanding to the proposition 
 that God exists. 
 
 " It must be acknowledged, that nature has given 
 us a strong passion of admiration for whatever is 
 excellent, and of love and gratitude for whatever is 
 benevolent and beneficial ; and that the Deity possesses 
 these attributes in the highest perfection : and yet I 
 assert, he is not the natural object of any passion or
 
 .Et. fl2-M. 
 
 UK. LEKCHMAN. 
 
 100 
 
 affection. lie is no object either of the senses or 
 imagination, and very little of the understandiiiLT, 
 without which it is impossible to excite any affection. 
 A remote ancestor, who has left us estates and honours 
 acquired with virtue, is a n'reat benefactor; and yet 
 'tis impossible to hear him any alfection. 1" cause un- 
 known to us: though in general we know him to ho a 
 man or a human creature, which brings him vastly 
 nearer our comprehension than an invisihlc, infinite 
 spirit. A mam therefore, may have his heart perfectly 
 wdl disposed towards every proper and natural object of 
 affection friends, benefactors, country, children, &c. 
 and yet, from this circumstance of the invisibility 
 and incomprehensibility of tin 1 Deity, may feel no 
 affection towards him. And. indeed. I am afraid that 
 all enthusiasts mightily deceive themselves. Hope 
 and fear perhaps agitate their breast when they think 
 of the Deity: or they degrade him into a resemblance 
 with themselves, and by that means render him more 
 eoi iprehensible. ( >r they exult with vanity in esteem- 
 ing themselves his peculiar favourites; or at best they 
 are actuated by a forced and strained affection, which 
 moves by starts and bounds, and with a very irregular, 
 disorderly pace. Such an alfection cannot be required 
 of any man as his duty. I 'lease to observe, that 1 not 
 only exclude the turbulent passions, but the calm 
 atfections. Neither of them can operate without 
 the assistance of the senses and imagination : or at 
 l-'ast a more complete knowledge of the object than 
 we have of tli" Deity. hi most men this i> (1|. cus"; 
 and a natural infirmity can nevr be : crime. 1 Jut. 
 secondly, were devotion never s> miudi admitted. 
 
 prayer niih' still 1 vlud.-d hirst, the a I liv^in- 
 
 of our virt u >us w i da and desires to the I ) ; \ , since 
 the address has no inlluence on him, is onlv a kind of
 
 164 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1743-1744. 
 
 rhetorical figure, in order to render these wishes more 
 ardent and passionate. This is Mr. Leechman's 
 doctrine. Now, the use of any figure of speech can 
 never be a duty. Secondly, this figure, like most 
 figures of rhetoric, has an evident impropriety in it ; 
 for we can make use of no expression, or even thought, 
 in prayers and entreaties, which does not imply that 
 these prayers have an influence. Thirdly, this figure 
 is very dangerous, and leads directly, and even un- 
 avoidably, to impiety and blasphemy. Tis a natural 
 infirmity of men to imagine that their prayers have a 
 direct influence ; and this infirmity must be extremely 
 fostered and encouraged by the constant use of prayer. 
 Thus, all wise men have excluded the use of images 
 and pictures in prayer, though they certainly enliven 
 devotion ; because 'tis found by experience, that with 
 the vulgar these visible representations draw too 
 much towards them, and become the only objects of 
 devotion." 1 
 
 The literary history of this sermon is curious and 
 instructive. When its author received his appoint- 
 ment of professor of divinity in 1744, a party in the 
 church opposed his being admitted in the usual man- 
 ner as a member of the presbytery of Glasgow ; and 
 one of their methods of attack was to charge him with 
 heretical opinions, promulgated in this sermon, of 
 which the first edition had been then published. It 
 is singular enough, in comparing their charge with 
 Hume's criticism, to find the two attacks brought 
 against the same point, though with different weapons. 
 " The purport of the whole went to charge Mr. Leech- 
 man with having laid too little stress on the merit of 
 the satisfaction and intercession of our blessed Saviour, 
 1 MS. R.S.E.
 
 jEt. 33. PROFESSORSHIP UF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. ]Cuj 
 
 as tlie sole ground of our acceptance with God in 
 j) my or, and with teaching Christians to look for par- 
 don and acceptance on other grounds than this." 
 
 At this time, we find llnine making an effort to 
 obtain a professorship in Kdinburgh. I >r. I'ringle, 
 subsequently Sir .lohn I'ringle. and ['resident of tin 1 
 Ivoyal Society of London, 
 
 " Who sat in Newton's, chair, 
 And wniiili-rM how the ilevil he L. r "t there," 
 
 held the chair of "ethics and pneumatic philosophy''" in 
 the university of Edinburgh. In 1712, lie was ap- 
 pointed physician to the Marl of Stair, commander of 
 tie; IJritish troops in the Low Countries; and through 
 this circumstance it will he seen, from the following 
 letter, that Hume contemplated a vacancy, and that he 
 was employing the usual means for securing his own 
 appointment to the chair. 
 
 llr.Mi:A> William Mitre of Caldirrll. 
 
 " 1 )i:ar Will. I shall tell you how my affair stands. 
 Dr. I 'ringlo has been absent two years by allowance, 
 and about -ix weeks ago wrote a letter to the provost, 
 in which lie seemed in a manner to have resigned his 
 office : and desired the council, if they thought the uni- 
 versity any way a sufferer by his absence, to send him 
 over a resignation in form, which he would sign, and 
 then they might proceed to the choice of a successor. 
 M r.( 'oiits. upon red >ivii)M- this, mentioned me to several 
 of th 'Uiieil. and desjred me t<> mention mwlf as a 
 
 1 W.,, \v. .<>.<,,,:,. v 2a. 
 
 - 1 *ii.-ii!ii:it ic PI; il i "jiliv 111 n t hi'iv 1"' Liken in its I'M -i'11-i', a-; 
 iii>-:lii in lt I ' .- \" i 1 i ' 
 
 ' .1 -l.ii ( 'mil : ( ' il!! . :i uat uv <.| I ;: ! . at that ti .- L.>nl 
 Pr. vn>l of lMinl.urjii. J].. w;i, the father !" Th ena- C-i/.t-. the 
 celchrateel bunker.
 
 16Q THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1744. 
 
 candidate to all my friends ; not with a view of 
 soliciting or making interest, but in order to get the 
 public voice on my side, that he might with the more 
 assurance employ his interest in my behalf. I accor- 
 dingly did so ; and being allowed to make use of the 
 provost's name, I found presently that I should have 
 the whole council on my side, and that, indeed, I 
 should have no antagonist. But when the provost 
 produced the doctor's letter to the council, he disco- 
 vered that he had in secret wrote differently to some 
 of his friends, who still insisted that the town should 
 give him allowance to be absent another year. The 
 whole council, however, except two or three, exclaimed 
 against this proposal, and it appeared evidently, that 
 if the matter had been put to a vote, there would 
 have been a majority of ten to one against the doctor. 
 But Mr. Couts, though his authority be quite absolute 
 in the town, yet makes it a rule to govern them with 
 the utmost gentleness and moderation : and this good 
 maxim he sometimes pushes even to an extreme. 
 For the sake of unanimity, therefore; he agrees to an 
 expedient, started by one of the doctor's friends, which 
 he thought would be a compliment to the doctor, and 
 yet would serve the same purpose as the immediate 
 declaration of a vacancy in the ofnce. This expedient 
 was to require either the doctor's resignation, or a 
 declaration upon honour, that whether it were peace 
 or war, or in any event, he would against November, 
 1745, return to his office, and resign his commission 
 of physician to the army, or any other employment 
 incompatible with his attendance in this place. This 
 last condition, Mr. Couts thinks it impossible he will 
 comply with, because lie has a guinea a-day at present, 
 as physician to the army, along with a good deal of 
 business and half-pay during life. And there seems
 
 Alv. r>:i. PROFESSORSHIP OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. l(J7 
 
 at present to lo small chance for a peace before the 
 term here assigned. 1 find, however, that some are 
 of a contrary opinion ; ami particularly several of the 
 doctor's friends say that he will si^n tlie obligation 
 above-mentioned. \\ c shall receive his answer in a 
 fortnight, upon which my success seems entirely to 
 
 depend. 
 
 " Iii the mean time, 1 have received another oiler, 
 which 1 shall tell you as a friend, hut desire you may 
 not mention to any body. My Lord ( larlees ' received 
 a, commission from Mr. Murray of ilroujihton" to look 
 out for a travelling tutor to his sen. who is at present 
 at (JlasLTOW. My lord inclines to ^ive n;e the pre- 
 ference, but 1 could not positively accept, till I had 
 seen the end of this alfair, which is so near a crisis. 
 I'lease to inform me of any particulars that you know 
 with regard to the youn^ man. his family. \'C. that 
 in case the tenner project fail, I may deliberate upon 
 the other. The accusation of heresy, deism, scepti- 
 cism, atheism, &c. .Vc. cVc. was started against me ; 
 but never took, ljein^ bore down by the contrary 
 authority of all the u'ood company in town. 1 >nt 
 what .surprised me extremely, was to tind thai this 
 accusation was supported by the pretended authority 
 of Mr. Hutehesun and even Mr. Leechman. who. 'tis 
 said, agreed that 1 was a very unlit person for such 
 an oliiee. This appears to me absolutely incredible, 
 i -; eeially with regard to the latter gentleman. bor. 
 > M . ! ' Mel -mil ; 11 my friend = think ' i ;;' !i . lias 
 
 '! > : :..'.:. :i ,,!' i! I ' t - 
 
 I ,: .,!.-! .. M .! .;. , r P.:-.. I/ !!. I . 
 |, ":,..,. !' | !' ' ' . i ' v., . \ :,' 
 
 .':. ..!' i '. , ; :!.::. 
 
 I;ir\ I" tin- I'lvti l>T. Tl 
 
 (I 1 1 !
 
 1C8 
 
 TflK LIKIO 01'' DAVID IJUMK. 
 
 17-11 -174/5. 
 
 1>oon rendering mo hud officoH to the utmost of his 
 power. And I know that Mr. ('outs, to whom I 
 Raid rashly that I thought I could depend upon Mr. 
 Ilutchcson's friendship and recommendation, I say, 
 Mr. Couts now speaks of that professor rather as my 
 enemy than as my friend. What can he the meaning of 
 this conduct in that celebrated and benevolent moralist, 
 I cannot imagine. I shall he glad to find, for the 
 honour of philosophy, that I am mistaken : and, indeed, 
 f hope so too; and hog of you to impure a little 
 into the matter, hut very cautiously, lest I make him 
 my open and professed enemy, winch I would willingly 
 avoid. Here then it hehoves you to he very di;-;ereet. 
 
 " 'lis probable Mr. Murray of I'roughton may 
 consult Mr. Ilutohesori and the other professors of 
 (ilasgow, before he fix absolutely on a tutor for his 
 son. We shall then see whether he really entertains 
 a bad opinion of my orthodoxy, or is only unwilling 
 that I should be Professor of lithies in Edinburgh; 
 Je.st that town, being in the neighbourhood of (Glasgow, 
 should spread its contagion all around it, and even 
 infect the students of the latter university. 
 
 " I have passed a week with Mr-. Oswald at 
 Kirkcaldy. lie makes his compliments to you. lie 
 has .shown me the whole economy of the navy, the 
 source of the navy debt, with many other brunches of 
 public business. lie seems to have a groat genius for 
 these affairs, and I fancy will go far in that way if he 
 perse veres." 
 
 < : />/,,/,/ 7 /, ; Aujnal 4, I ; 11."' 
 
 It may easily be im.'igined that both Mr. Ilutchenon 
 :ui'\ \)i. Leechman would be opposed to the appoint- 
 
 m; . jr.: j;
 
 .r ..;\s ,. rU'M*r.s>on>nir it MouAi. liiii.^si'niY. \co 
 
 hum;' of Pa\'u! llumo :i> ;i t ../:. rof moral pliUoso|l;y 
 
 1 1 li > . - - . . . '.:'..: 1 1 ; r \ 1 1 , i _J ' < ' i*- 
 
 t.ii'.l this o] w ;: !. .. - '. ion ' 
 
 I > c!,;ll :U'! V. .. i 'f '.'. ' v - 
 
 t.ili-nt> \> \riv:> . ... . s] I '.:-..' ... 
 
 ( \ :'.)'. - ..v..; .: \ ::.., to I:: '.. : i ..'. w ! ..: - 
 
 :;... \ ! . \ . r..;:: . l.o \\ :\> 
 
 : i '.! 1.7::. M::iv!:. 1 7 \'\ :. '. :: i- i:i w '. '.. i r. 
 
 -. .' it: /...:. \\ ..-:..;:,' : :. I 
 l ::;v.'. I ':>. I> 1 \ . 1. .; :: :: , . : .". .' : l 1 . to : : ','..::..- 
 
 ....:.:'..:' \ .: '. - 1 : : . . . ..: \\ '. \ '. . '. . >; ./ :x s .\ : '.. 
 : : i f v'v.i 1 > ... - : .... i'' '. . :V i .. . : \- . : i 
 
 :>'-::'.. : ' : :.. w "...' ..: - . a <. : 
 
 ].; x \n ;". > ' i.^li 0'.:' \ :'.!'. \ N v ..'. s i7i - . ..'.'.. i .'- 
 
 v ' . : '.' . '. \\ o \ r.; v> '. .'. '. '....'.. ', '. ... . \ '. .'. '....'. 
 
 . > -. - ..:..-..'..' ...... \. .. >: I : > 
 
 . - . . --'" .'.,..'. .. :. .\ - '. . . .. : .'. .: \ < ' . 
 
 > -. > :.::.-.: . .: . .-... ! :o ::. v . , .. !<:: 
 
 \: ..:. 17 i.\ '.'...- :..;...:: > ' ...:. :: ..: >^. ..: :'. .: 
 
 \\ ..> '.'. : . .' .'.::' .'..:. ^o.^v.l. w ; : '..-. : : . '.
 
 170 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 was not such a recommendation as would turn the 
 minds of tlie members of council in favour of Hume. 
 His name is not mentioned in the council records in 
 connexion with the proceedings, and the vacancy was 
 filled up on 5th June, 1745, by the appointment of 
 William Cleghorn, who had acted for Dr. Pringle in 
 his absence. 
 
 The date of these transactions, brings us into the 
 middle of a very curious episode in Hume's history, 
 which must now be examined. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1745 1747. JEt. 34 3G. 
 
 Hume's Residence with the Marquis of Annandale His Predecessor Colonel 
 Forrester Correspondence with Sir James Johnstone and Mr. Sharp of 
 Hoddam Quarrel with Captain Vincent Estimate of his Conduct, and 
 Inquiry into the Circumstances in which he was placed Appointed 
 Secretary to General St. Clair Accompanies the expedition against the Court 
 of France as Judge- Advocate Gives an Account of the Attack on Port 
 L'Orient A tragic Incident. 
 
 Hume's history of his residence with the Marquis of 
 Annandale, is given in the following brief terms, in his 
 " own life." " In 1745, I received a letter from the 
 Marquis of Annandale, inviting me to come and live with 
 him in England : I found, also, that the friends and 
 family of that young nobleman were desirous of put- 
 ting him under my care and direction, for the state of 
 his mind and health required it. I lived with him a 
 twelvemonth. My appointments during that time 
 made a considerable accession to my small fortune." 
 
 It might have been favourable perhaps to the dig- 
 nity of his position in the world of letters, that this 
 episode in his history had never been more fully nar-
 
 JEr.34-.Vj. RESIDENT]-: WITH LORD ANN'AXDALE. j;] 
 
 rated; fur a philosopher conducting a litigation for 
 \I77> of arrears of salary, is apt to experience that 
 diminution of respect in the rves >f the puhlic, which 
 the prince of Conde discovered that a hero sutfered 
 in those of his valet. Since, however, many statements 
 have heen u'iven to the world, connected with that 
 part of Hume's life, and many charges and counter- 
 charges anion"; the persons connected with it are pre- 
 served, it is necessary to u'ive such a brief view of the 
 whole alfair. as may cnahlc the reader to estimate the 
 respective merits of the parties in the dispute. A 
 collection of documents on the subject was lately 
 pnhlished hy a gentleman to whom the literary history 
 of Scotland is indebted for many other services: 1 and 
 from his book the following statement is compiled. 
 
 The person with whom David Hume was thus 
 connected was the la-t Marquis of Annandale, on 
 whose deatli that title became dormant. < hi the 3 1 li 
 of Mai'ch. 17 1 s . he was found, on an inquest from the 
 Court of Chancery in Knu'lnnd, to be a lunatic, in- 
 capable of eovernine himself and mana-inu' his own 
 affairs, and to have been so since 1 lit h December, 
 1711, a few mouths anterior to Hume's, enu'auynient 
 with liim. The 1 correspondence does not u'ive the 
 
 1 I.i'tlcr- nf Duviil I [nun', ami extract- l'mm letters lvl'd-riii:; to 
 i hy Thmnas Murray. I.I..D.. authm' i.f "The Literary 
 II' i-y T Calloway.*" IMmhiii'-h. 1 S tl . S\ ... pp. SO. Dr. Mm 
 : . ' !.t- : " Tin; <iri_ r inal~ arc -iipjn '-! ic 1i:i\ I. .-.-ii 
 
 in fi j'hl v \v;tr- a .>, in the haml- "i' a lc man 
 
 in IMmhar _ r h, a- ili.cuiiii'ii!- t"- r a law-.-uit, t<> which tl..' 1 :i . r 
 i ':' : I-. ' . Si..,-.- hi death, tl i y ! :n,'. \\<> heli,.\e, 
 
 I ''''' 
 
 (_ ! 1 1 : 1 I* ill l''!ltl"!l, . ] : ' I I C\ '!' I'l'i'M 1 r;i]. They" 
 
 ult iniiiti'lv came ml 'i the 1 1 i ii ,,j a _"e'.ii h man w 1 <> appr .' i 
 
 their v;ili! . ili 1 me the l.-n^ur ei' pre- 
 
 t hem Ulie . '.' *
 
 172 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 reader the notion of one reduced to so abject a mental 
 state, but rather that of a man nervously timid and 
 reserved ; distrustful of himself and his ability to 
 transact business with other people, but not quite 
 incapable of managing his affairs, though exciteable, 
 and liable to be driven into fits of passion by causes 
 not susceptible of being anticipated. A party to the 
 correspondence, talking of him as in an improved 
 condition, says : " My Lord walked out with me lately 
 two or three miles, received and returned the compli- 
 ments of the hat of those we met, and without any 
 shyness or reserve : and bears to stand by, and hear me 
 talk with any farmer or countryman. This is a vast 
 change for the better, and the greatest appearance 
 that it will continue." 1 He appears to have been 
 haunted by a spirit of literary ambition. Hume says 
 in a letter to Lord Elibank, " I have copied out half 
 a dozen of epigrams, which I hope will give you 
 entertainment. The thouojit in them is indeed little 
 inferior to that in the celebrated Epigrams of Rous- 
 seau; thouo-li the versification be not so correct. 
 1 
 
 What a pity ! I say this on account both of the 
 author and myself; for I am afraid I must leave 
 him." And on another occasion he alludes at length 
 
 1 The Marquis is said to have afforded the first example of his 
 state of mind, in the manner in which he gave a ball at Dumfries. 
 He had the floor covered with confections, as a garden walk is 
 laid with gravel. A lady who was alive a few years ago, 
 remembered having seen him walking about at Ilighgate, near 
 London ; when he was probably in a more confirmed state of insanity 
 than even his intercourse with Hume exhibits : a keeper walked 
 before him, and a footman behind. The latter would occasionally 
 tap his Lordship on the shoulder, and hand him a snuff-box, whence 
 he would lake a pinch, lie was a very handsome man. lie had 
 a sister, who exercised so much influence over him, that in her pre- 
 sence a keeper could bo dispensed with.
 
 A-a.?A-3o. RESIDENCE WITH I.nRD ANNANDALE. J 73 
 
 to a far more extensive literary achievement, a novel, 
 which the excited Marquis had written, and which 
 tlat.se about him had found it necessary to print, circu- 
 lating a few copies, and advertising it in one newspaper 
 to allay any suspicions in the author'.- mind that a 
 thousand copies had not heeii printed. Hume says: 
 
 You would certainly he a little surprised and 
 vexed on receiving a printed cop) of the novel, which 
 was in hands when you left London. If 1 did not 
 explain the mystery to you, I helieve I told you, that 
 1 hoped that affair was entirely over, by my employing 
 Lord Marchmont and Lord Lolinebroko's authority 
 against publishing that novel ; though you will readily 
 suppose that neither of these two noLle Lords ever 
 perused it. This machine operated for six weeks; 
 hut the vanity of the author returned with redouhlcd 
 force, fortified by suspicions, and increased by the 
 delav. ' I'ai'die,' dit il. *je crois (pie ces messieurs 
 veulent etre le.s seules Seieneiirs d'An^letcrre <pii 
 eiissent de l'esprit. .Mais je leur montrerai ce (pie le 
 
 petit A pent faire aus.-i." In short. we were 
 
 obliged to print oil' thirty copies, to make him believe 
 that we had printed a thousand, and that they were 
 to be dispersed all over the kingdom. 
 
 "My Lady Marchioness will also receive a copy, 
 and I am afraid it may eive her a eood deal of 
 uiieasine-s, by reason of the .story alluded to in the 
 novel, and which she may imagine my Lord is ro.-olved 
 to lil'ine,' to execution. Ie si) e'ood, therefore, as to 
 inform lea. that 1 hope this a Hair is all ovi r. I 
 discovered, about a fortnight a-o. (hat one ,,f the 
 papers sent to that dam-el had been sent back by her 
 under cover to hi- rhal. Mr. M" . and that .-he 
 had plainh, by that step, sacrificed him to her other 
 1i>mt. This \mu-s Pal matte- of !;.,{. _,:.! I [.-,' ]
 
 174 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-174G. 
 
 good fortune to convince him of it ; so that bis pride 
 seems to have got the better of bis passion, and he 
 never talks of her at present." 
 
 The "novel" appears to have referred to some 
 little event in its author's private history. If there 
 be a copy of it now any where existing, it is to be 
 feared that it wastes its fragrance on the desert air, 
 as the existence of so choice a flower of literature, 
 were it in the possession of any collector, could not 
 fail to have been rumoured through the bibliographical 
 world. 
 
 The Marquis had previously been attended by a 
 succession of hired companions, of whom one was a 
 man of considerable distinction, Colonel James 
 Forrester, 1 a person who, in the Scottish society of 
 the age, seems to have united some of the qualities of 
 a Chesterfield to a like proportion of those of a Beau 
 
 1 The following, discovered by a friend in an old newspaper, is so 
 amusing, and so descriptive of the man who was Hume's predecessor 
 in office, that I cannot resist inserting it : 
 
 On Captain (Beau) FORRESTER'S travelling to the Highlands of Scotland 
 in winter, anno ET'27, incog. 
 
 O'er Caledonia's ruder Alps 
 
 While Forrester pursu'd liis way, 
 The mountains veil'd their rugged scalps, 
 
 And wrapt in snow and wonder lay ! 
 
 Each sylvan god, each rural power, 
 
 Feep'd out to sec the raree-show ; 
 And all confess'd, that, till that hour, 
 
 They ne'er had seen so bright a beau. 
 
 Nay yet, and more I dare advance, 
 
 The story true as aught in print, 
 All nature round, in complaisance, 
 
 And imitation, took the hint. 
 
 The fields that whilome only bore 
 
 Wild heath, or clad at best with oats, 
 Despis'd these humble weeds, and wore 
 
 Rich spangled doublets, and lae'd coats.
 
 .Li. ;',k-:):>. RESIDENCE WITH LORD ANXANDALE. 175 
 
 Fieldinc;. I To was the author of " The Polite Philo- 
 sopher;" a lively little es.-ay, sometimes published 
 alon^ with Chesterfield's '" Advice. " in which the 
 author is so much at case with his reader, that he dis- 
 courses in prose or poetry as his own humour dictates. 
 .Johnson said, with reference to the man and tic hook, 
 that "he was himself the uicat polite In: drew:'" and 
 if it did not happen that his coxcombry excited the 
 poor invalid's irritable nerves to distraction, lie was 
 probably an infinitely more suitable man for the office 
 of companion to the Marquis of Annandale. than 
 David Hume. 
 
 The overtures to Hume were made by the Marquis 
 himself: who was, according to an expression used 
 by Sir dames Johnstone, when writing to Hume, 
 "charmed with something contained in his Kssays. " 
 The' place of residence of the Marquis was \\ eld- 
 hall, near St. Alban's. in Hertfordshire. Hume had 
 to u'o to London to make the anticipatory arrange- 
 ments, and he commenced his companionship on 1st 
 April. I7-1.~>. The insurrection, headed by Prince 
 Charles Kdward in Scotland, commenced four mouths 
 
 The hill; wdi 1 p'Tiw ;_:_''[ with -iiniv; 
 
 I'iir-taiN i'f ire Iran- 1 mi 1 a'h tr. 1 : 
 Tin' win!; tarii'tl l">\v,'t.i'-j;;t|'. ; ;u:<l, lo, 
 
 On u\cry "iirul' :i r-harp toupee ! 
 
 With -ihvr clnck^ the ri\.T zo\ + 
 
 A i'|.. :n-",I ; :m,l Minn' will take their oath, 
 Or l:iy at ica-t a th.ii i.n.l < hi-. 
 
 'I'ii.- c'..iu.l ah-, in- in: whit..- IVoth. 
 
 !!;' v., ah aha hM ihu t > ->ir\. y 
 
 II. ; !!n to .li i ay, 
 
 \\ 
 
 - I 
 A 
 
 1 :. w 
 
 : . .: I 
 
 .
 
 176 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 afterwards; and there is perhaps nothing more 
 curious in the whole dispute than the indifference 
 with which this matter, fraught with so much im- 
 portance to his countrymen, is spoken of by Hume ; 
 while there could not probably be a better answer 
 to those who afterwards insinuated that he was a 
 Jacobite, than an account of the manner in which 
 his thoughts were occupied during that struggle. He 
 occasionally complains that he is prevented from 
 personally discussing, with the individuals interested, 
 the matters he is writing about, on account of " the 
 present unhappy troubles;" and the following portion 
 of a letter to Sir James Johnstone of Westerhall, the 
 brother of the Marquis's stepfather, written imme- 
 diately after he had left his attendance on the Marquis, 
 is the only occasion in which he appears to show the 
 least sympathy in the conflict or its results. 
 
 "Portsmouth^ June 6, 1746. 
 " Dear Sir, I have always sympathized very 
 cordially with you, whenever I met with any of the 
 names, wherein you was interested, in any of the 
 public papers ; but I hope that one of the persons is 
 now safe by his escape, and the other protected by 
 her sex and innocence. 1 We live not now in a time, 
 when public crimes are supposed to cancel all private 
 ties, or when the duties of relation, even thouirh exe- 
 cutcd beyond the usual bounds, will render the 
 
 1 TIio baronet's daughter, Margaret, had married the Earl of 
 Airley's eldest son, Lord Ogilvy, who, having engaged in the 
 rebellion, had fled to the continent after the battle of Cullodcn. His 
 wife, however, was among the prisoners; and in June 1746, she was 
 committed to Edinburgh Castle. In the ensuing November she 
 escaped ; and having joined her husband in France, she died there, 
 in l?.">7, at the age of thirty-three. Douglass Peerage of Scot- 
 laiul) vol. i. p. 35.
 
 /T/r. ."l-.".'. RESIDENCE with loud ANNAM)\LE. 177 
 
 persons criminal. I :im willim_r, therefore, to flatter 
 myself, that your anxiety must now he in a threat 
 measure over, and that a inuiv happv conclusion of so 
 calamitous an affair couhl not he expected, either for 
 private individuals or tor the public. Sonic little 
 time au'n, w had here a conversation v'"h regard to 
 
 L . and other persons in her condition, when 
 
 lleiMTal ^t. Clair said, that he heard, from some of 
 th" ministers, that the intention- of the menaces, or 
 v\ en of the intended prosecutions I if they went so far.) 
 were not to proceed to execution ; hut only to teach 
 ear countrywomen (many of whom had Lfone beyond 
 all hounds) that their sex was no absolute protection 
 to them, and that they were equally exposed to the 
 law with the other sex. However. I doubt not but 
 your friend has no occasion for their clemency, what- 
 may be the case with the otln r ladi< in the same 
 .-it nation, who had particularly valued themselves 
 ii their activitv and couraiee." 
 
 It is now neces.-viry to enter on a subject, which 
 one feels a natural inclination to po.-tpono, a- lone; as 
 the order of events will afford any e\cu-e for looking af 
 oth< r things : the treatment Hume experienced in this 
 his .-elf-adopted .-da very. He had to deal with a capri- 
 cious unreasonable employer ; to that he would, in the 
 circumstances, philo.-ophieally reconcile him.-elf. He 
 - in one ,,f ] ' ; rs that he bvi d with him 
 " in ; ipial \va '.' of ci unpin isancc nn 1 
 
 humour thun could well ha\ e ln-n e\j"cted. Sniiy 
 littl ::-.': - an ! !. im .. - .-mil ! not he pr , e-d. 
 and never wer" proposed to be of any eoii-eipience. 
 Hut he had another and a \;iv more un] ' ! pcr-i.'i 
 
 t o 'bail with, in a certain I'hilip Nine ut. a captain 
 
 VOL. 1. N
 
 178 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 in the navy, 1 a relation of the Dowager-marchioness of 
 Annandale. For some months matters appear to 
 have gone smoothly with all concerned. The follow- 
 ing letter to one of his esteemed friends, shows that 
 Hume was consoling himself for the probable dissipa- 
 tion of his hopes of a professorship, by reflecting on 
 his good fortune in being connected with so amiable 
 and excellent a man as Captain Vincent : 
 
 Hume to Matthew Sharp of Hoddam? 
 
 "My* Dear Sir, I am informed that such a 
 popular clamour has been raised against me in Edin- 
 burgh, on account of scepticism, heterodoxy, and 
 other hard names, which confound the ignorant, that 
 my friends find some difficulty, in working out the 
 point of my professorship, which once appeared so 
 easy. Did I need a testimonial for my orthodoxy, I 
 should certainly appeal to you ; for you know that I 
 always imitated Job's friends, and defended the cause 
 of Providence when [you] attacked it, on account of 
 the headachs you felt after a deba[uch.] But, as a 
 more particular explication of that particular seems 
 superfluous, I shall only apply to you for a renewal of 
 
 1 lie had obtained this rank in 1729. Bcatson's Political 
 Index. 
 
 2 Matthew Sharp, horn 18th Feb. 1093, was the second son of 
 John Sharp of Iloddam, by his Ayife Susan, daughter of John 
 Muir of Cassencarrie, ancestor of Sir John Muir Mackenzie of 
 Delvin, Hart. Mr. Sharp joined the Jacobite insurgents in 
 the year l?l/5, and made his escape to Scotland, after the rout at 
 Preston, in the disguise of a pig-driver. He then repaired to France, 
 where lie finally took up his residence at Boulogne. In the year 
 17-10 his elder brother George died, and Mr. Sharp succeeded to 
 the estate of Iloddam. lie returned to his native country, and 
 died, unmarried, at Iloddam castle, in the year 1769.
 
 /Kr. fU-:r.. RKSIDENCK WITH LOUD ANNANDALE. 1 7y 
 
 your good offices with your nephew. Lord Tinwal, 1 
 whose interest with Yetts ami Mian may he of 
 service to me. There is no time to lo.se: so that 1 
 must hee; you to he speedy in writing to him, or spoak- 
 iiiLT to him on that head. A word to the wise, liven 
 that is not necessary to a friend, such as I have always 
 esteemed and found you t- he. 
 
 * I live here very eoinfortahly with the .Marquis of 
 Annamlale. who. 1 suppose you have heard, sent me 
 a h'tter of invitation, alon^ with a hill of one hundred 
 pound-, ahout two months aii'o. livery thine; is much 
 hetter than 1 expected, from the accounts I heard 
 after I came to London : for the secrecy with which 
 1 stole away from Kdinhurixh, and which 1 thought 
 necessary for preserving; my interest there, kept me 
 entirely ignorant of his .-it uat ion. 
 
 " My hud never was in so good a way [hefore.] lie 
 has a regular family, honest servants, and every thinn" 
 is nianau'ed genteelly and with economy. lie has 
 intrusted all his Lnuli-h a Hairs to a mighty honest 
 fiiemlly man. Captain \ ineent. who is roiisiii-e-ennan 
 to the Marchioness. And as my hud has now taken 
 so strong a turn to solitude and repose. ;;s he formerly 
 hud to company and agitation, 'tis to he hojx d that 
 his eood parts and excellent disjiositioiis may at last, 
 heine,' accompanied with more health and tiampiillity, 
 render him ;i comfort to his friends, it' not an orna- 
 
 < i-l la kin.- ..(' Tinwal. I. tl,ir.l -..ii ,.!' Sir ( 1 ara I'i kii 
 . ( \l\a. I'.arl.. a I., a. I ( >,--~\,<u. w illi lli<- -:vT .!' I. . ! 
 ! I v.a < .:!/. !. .laa.hu , I" -I ! n <oa r a . !' I ! 
 
 ('ail,, a-i ... .::. -i-t.-r ..f M;ililiru Mai:p :' II i . .:: . I. !'! 
 I 1' ihii-.l I : * 1 1 _ 1 1 T I' Tuaa nairr'a ! ! W '' : k : 
 
 mt..ii,| -.ii i.t' Sir Tli..nia k ' ' I ; 
 
 iii'.tli.-r i. IT liarlc- Kirkjiuirii-k. t.. w li a. M.tltli v > ; I . eT. 1 
 ! , L-.-l:iti-..fII.nl.l: li 1
 
 180 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 ment to his country. As you live in the neighbour- 
 hood of the Marchioness, it may give her a pleasure 
 to hear these particulars. I am, 1 &c. 
 
 " Weldehall, near St. Albans, 
 "April 25, 1745." 
 
 On the other hand, we find Captain Vincent, when 
 he speaks of Hume, saying, " I think it very happy 
 that he is with my lord, and still more so if he is con- 
 stantly to remain with him, which I do not foresee 
 but that he may ; and I must do him the justice to 
 say, that after having had time enough to weigh the 
 temper, situation, and circumstances of the person he 
 has to deal with, he very candidly owned that it was 
 what he could cheerfully abide with." And again in 
 August, " Mr. Hume is almost wholly taken up with 
 our friend personally, so that he can scarce have the 
 resource of amusement, or even of business, which is 
 somewhat hard upon a man of erudition and letters, 
 whom indeed 1 think very deserving and good natured; 
 and whilst he can be his companion, there could not 
 be a better made choice of." The captain, in other 
 letters, speaks of Hume as " a very worthy and know- 
 ing man,'' and as " My friend Mr. Hume:" and seems 
 at one time to have wished that an annuity of 100 
 a-ycar should be settled upon him, without reference 
 to his continuance in his office, and in addition to the 
 salary he might receive while he did so. But the 
 dawn was soon afterwards overcast. 
 
 Hume, in the first place, disliked some of Captain 
 Vincent's proposed arrangements, as to the disposal 
 
 1 Original in tlio possession of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq. 
 This letter is printed in The Edinburgh Annual Register for I80ii, 
 p. 552.
 
 JIvr. 34-35. RESIDKXCK WITH LOUT) ANXANDALE. ]sl 
 
 of the person of tlie Marquis, and seems to h:ive 
 soon suspected him of wi>hinu' to carry through designs 
 which would materially atfrt the interest of some of 
 the Marquis's relations. It is prohahlo that a feeling 
 of friendliness, or of duty, may have prompted him to 
 interfere. It may he so, and he may in reality have 
 done <_M)od : hut the impression produced l>y tin 1 cor- 
 respondence is, regret that 1 1 time did not at once ret in; 
 in lofty scorn from the scene of these paltry cahals. 
 
 Captain Vincent held a commission from tic Mar- 
 quis to '* hire and dismiss servants/' and perform 
 otlcr like functions. It was in virtue of this autho- 
 rity that he dealt with Hume: and he seems at first 
 to have thought, that in the person of the philosopher 
 he had met with a sort of superior and valuahle moinhcr 
 of the fraternity of upper-servants. Though I hmie had 
 written the works on which a lar^e portion of 
 his Kuropean reputation was afterwards huilt, this 
 man seems to have regarded his literary ahilities as 
 merely an enhancement of the qualities which >uited 
 him for his servile oltice. Looking upon himself as a 
 memher of the family. In 1 app-ars to have 1 i;i * 1 much 
 the same disposition to admit that Hume's literary 
 distinction put them on a par with each other, as he 
 mi^ht have had to admit that the display of an unex- 
 pected de-ree of musical talent in the servants' hall 
 would qualify one of its frequenters to he hail-fellow 
 well met with him in the dining-room. Whether 
 Hum was ri^hl or wroiiLi in the suspicions he riifer- 
 
 1 of V incellt. lie' t of Vim ' o I i l,!i 
 
 w, : . ': 1. and that on his o\\ n -leiw ' , . 
 
 lie ni i I um 
 
 I U ! 1 1 
 
 as to the or 
 
 :meut of 
 
 ,\ ..i.i i 
 
 flu.' M.'inpiis. v,'u.>. that 'he i.--.h- i<m m v\ ei :i ;m was 
 an-uh aide !o hi > co'' 1 ; ' i<m : ' ';;; i - 'i! '" in a
 
 182 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1 740. 
 
 a more cheerful residence, and one in other respects 
 more suitable ; and the dispute appears to have been 
 for some time suspended on this peg. On the 31st 
 October, Hume writes : 
 
 " What is the mighty matter in dispute ? Only 
 about hiring a few carts to remove the family to 
 another house, in order to quit this ; which, for very 
 good reasons, is infinitely disagreeable to your friend, 
 very dangerous, will be uninhabitable for cold during 
 the winter season, and costs 300 to 400 a-year, 
 at least, to the family, more than is requisite." And 
 afterwards he says of Vincent : " He said, when he 
 was here, that we shall live in this house till the lease 
 was out, in spite of all opposition." 
 
 In the letter from which the preceding passage is 
 taken, he says to Sir James Johnstone, 
 
 " I must begin by complaining of you for having 
 yoked me here with a man of the Captain's character, 
 without giving me the least hint concerning it, if it 
 was known to you, as, indeed, it is no secret to the 
 world. You seemed satisfied with his conduct, and 
 even praised him to me ; which I am fully persuaded 
 was the effect of your caution, not your conviction. 
 However, I, who was altogether a stranger, entered 
 into the family with so gross a prepossession. I 
 found a man who took an infinite deal of pains for 
 another, with the utmost professions both of disin- 
 terestedness and friendship to him and me ; and I 
 readily concluded that such a one must be cither one 
 of the best, or one of the worst of men. I can easily 
 excuse myself for having judged at first on the favour- 
 able side ; and must confess that, when light first 
 began to break in upon me, I resisted it as I would a
 
 jEt. 34-35. RESIDENCE WITH LORD ANNANDALE. 183 
 
 temptation of the devil. I thought it, however, proper 
 to keej) my eyes open for farther observation: till the 
 strangest and most palpable facts, which I .shall in- 
 form you of at meeting, put the matter out of all 
 doubt to me. 
 
 " There is nothing he would be fonder of than to 
 sow dissension betwixt my Lady and you, whom lie 
 bates and fears. J le flatters, and caresses, and praises, 
 and hates me also : and would be glad to chase me 
 away, as doing me the honour, and, I hope, the justice 
 of thinking me a person very unlit for his purposes. 
 As he wants all manner of pretext from my conduct 
 and behaviour, he has broken his word." 
 
 That these statements are not those of a secret foe 
 emitting calumnies in the dark, is made clear by the 
 concluding terms of the letter, in which the writer, 
 instead of asking his correspondent to keep its con- 
 tents secret a very common clause when people, 
 thrown much in each other's way. write about each 
 others conduct to third parties says, " I wish you 
 would bring this letter south with you. that, if you 
 will allow it. I may show it to him." that is. to 
 \ incent. 
 
 The excitement communicated to 1 1 nine's nerves on 
 this occasion, is shown by the folio-, inj; short letter 
 to Sir .James, so much at variance with the usual 
 charaet r of his writ inejs : 
 
 "*(iod forgive vou. dear Sir, (iod forgive vou. for 
 neither enminu" to us. nor writing to us. Tl unac- 
 cou liable, and, 1 mav sav. the inhuman iv* ':; > : i we 
 meet with here, throws your frh :.d in; > \\- _: ' and 
 fury, and me into the greatest ic'lam-lnily. ' : ; only 
 e iinfort is when ! think of your arri\al : be: -till ! 
 know not when 1 can proper- to i;;y>eli that satisfac- 
 tion. 1 tlatter mvself vmi have received two short
 
 184 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 letters I wrote within this month ; though the uncer- 
 tainty of the post gives me apprehension. I must 
 again entreat you to favour me with a short line, to 
 let me know the time you can propose to be with us ; 
 for, if it be near, I shall wait with patience and with 
 pleasure ; if distant, I shall write you at length, that 
 you and my Lady Marchioness may judge of our 
 circumstances and situation. I am, Dear Sir, yours, 
 with great sincerity, D. H." 
 
 Unfortunately, the precise objects which the parties 
 respectively desired to accomplish cannot be distinctly 
 ascertained, as the letters generally refer to explana- 
 tions which it will be necessary for the parties to make 
 when they meet, because the troubled character of the 
 times made private letters liable to be opened and 
 inspected. Hume at the same time, being in the midst 
 of a considerable retinue of servants under the control 
 and management of his enemy, was in dread that spies 
 were set on his motions. Thus he says to Sir James 
 Johnstone, 
 
 " I did write you the very first occasion after I came 
 out thither. But I find my letters have great diffi- 
 culty to reach you ; for which reason I shall put this 
 into the post-house myself, to prevent such practices 
 as I suspect are used in this family, I have some 
 reason also to think that spies are placed upon my 
 most indifferent actions. I told you that I had had 
 more conversation with one of the servants than was 
 natural, and for what reason. Perhaps this fellow 
 had the same privilege granted him as other spies, to 
 rail against his employer, in order to draw in an un- 
 guarded man to be still more unguarded. But such 
 practices, if real, (for I am not altogether certain,) can 
 only turn to the confusion of those who use them.
 
 Aa. :[-:-. IlESIDK-NCK WITH LORD ANNANDALE. is; 
 
 Whore there is no arbitrary power, innocence must be 
 sate; and if there be arbitrary power in this family, 
 'tis Ionic since 1 knew I could not remain in it. \\ hat 
 a scene is this for a man nourished in philosophy and 
 polite letters to enter into, all of a Midden, and unpre- 
 pared ! But I can lau^h, whatever happens; and the 
 newness of sueli practices rather diverts me. At first 
 they caused indignation and hatred; and even (though 
 1 am ashamed to confess it) melancholy and sorrow." 
 
 What a scene indeed ! 
 
 The chief incidental liiz'ht that can be thrown on 
 the nature of the suspicions which Hume entertained 
 of \ incent, is derived from the position of the person 
 to whom the greater part of these letters wore ad- 
 dressed Sir James .Johnstone, who has already been 
 alluded to as a connexion of the Annandale family. 
 His brother. Colomd John Johnstone, hail married the 
 Marchioness-dowager, the mother of the Marquis, 
 and by her had three children. She was an heiress ; 
 and though the Scottish estates, following an entail, 
 were destined to pass to another family, her own pro- 
 perty would be inherited by the children of her second 
 marriage, on the death of the Marquis. The accumu- 
 lated rents of his estates, beine; movable property, 
 would also be the subject of succession, different from 
 that of the entail ; and therefore the mamnj.ement of 
 this property, during his imbecility, was a matter of 
 much moment to some of his connexions. The 
 public had ample opportunity of knowing the eM'-nt 
 of these accumulated funds. They rose to the .-urn of 
 'f. 1 !.").< mm . and were the subject of lone; litigation 
 both in laieland and Scotland. The Annandale 
 cases'" had a material effect in settling in Britain the 
 important principle which had been pre\ iou.-ly adopted 
 over the greater part of Kurope, that the movable or
 
 186 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-174G. 
 
 personal estate of a deceased person must be distri- 
 buted according to the law of the country where he 
 had his domicile or permanent residence at the time 
 of his death. 
 
 It is pretty evident that Vincent had certain family 
 projects in view in connexion with the management 
 of the estate, and that Hume wished to defeat them. 
 Before the outbreak of the quarrel, the latter had 
 written to Sir James : 
 
 " I shall endeavour to give you my opinion, which 
 I am certain would be yours, were you to pass a day 
 amongst us. I am sorry, therefore, to inform you, 
 that nothing now remains but to take care of your 
 friend's person, in the most decent and convenient 
 manner ; and, with regard to his fortune, to be atten- 
 tive that the great supcrplus, which will remain after 
 providing for these purposes, should be employed by 
 my Lady and your nephews, as the true proprietors, 
 for their honour and advantage." 
 
 Having written a civil letter to Vincent, stating 
 that he desired the intervention of Sir dames 
 Johnstone, and that he believed, in the mean time, 
 that the Marquis was satisfied with the engage- 
 ment, and did not wish him to be dismissed, lie 
 thus hints to Sir James his suspicions of Vincent's 
 views. 
 
 " I must own it was with excessive reluctance I 
 wrote so softening and obliging a letter to this man ; 
 but as I knew that such a method of proceeding was 
 conformable to your intentions, I thought it my duty 
 to comply. However, I easily saw it would all be 
 vain, and would only fortify him in his arrogance. 
 Do you think that ///-" absolute possession oj so ample 
 o fortune, to which this is the first requisite step, is a 
 prize to be resigned for a few fair words or flattering
 
 -Et. 34-33. RESIDENT!-: WITH LORD ANNANDALE. j$7 
 
 professions .' He deals too much in that bait himself 
 over to be caught with it by others. 
 
 "I think this is the last opportunity that will over offer 
 of retrieving tie 1 family and yourself (as far as you are 
 concerned with the family.') from falling into absolute 
 slavery to so odious a master. If, in the beginning, 
 and while he is watched by jealous eyes, he can attempt 
 such things, what will lie not do when he has fixed his 
 authority, and has no longer any inspector over him : 
 
 ' 'Tis lucky, therefore, that this, as it seems the last, 
 is so u'ood an opportunity. Nothing was ever so bare- 
 faced as his conduct. To quarrel with me. merely 
 because I civilly supported a most reasonable project; 
 to threaten me with his vengeance, if I opened my 
 lips to you coneerniiiu" your friend's affairs : to execute 
 that threat, without a pretext, or without consulting 
 you: these steps uivo us such advantages over him as 
 must not be neglected. 
 
 * I hope you will not take it amiss, if I say, 
 that your conduct, with regard to your friend, and 
 to those who have at different times been about 
 him. has all alone; been too gentle and cautious. 1 
 had considerably shaken the authority of this man 
 (though 1 had no authority myself.) merely by my 
 firmness and resolution. lie now assumes more, 
 when he observes your precaution-. 
 
 I > nt . as 1 do not believe that, thouu'h your firmness 
 may daunt him, it will ever en^aey him to loose held 
 of so fine a prize, it will be requisite to think of mere 
 effectual remedies. Happily there is time enough 
 both to contrive and to execute. For. though he 
 makes me the offer of present payment, i w hieh I hope 
 you observed.) in order to enuau'o me to leave you 
 presently, he shall not evi rid of' me so easily." 
 
 flume appears, with a marvellous degree of self-
 
 188 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 restraint marvellous in a man of independent spirit 
 to have felt that it was his duty not to be driven from 
 his post by the insults of Vincent. He says to Sir 
 James Johnstone, when apparently wearied out, " I 
 fancy he must prevail at last ; and I shall take care 
 not to be a bone of contention betwixt you, unless 
 you think I am the most advantageous piece of ground 
 on which you can resist him." His opinion, that the 
 interests of the other relations were concerned in his 
 resisting Vincent's designs, is confirmed by the fol- 
 lowing letter, also addressed to Sir James John- 
 stone : 
 
 " He [Vincent] desired you should intermeddle as 
 little as possible in these affairs ; adding, that he 
 intended, by keeping my Lord's person and his English 
 affairs in his own hands, to free my Lady from all 
 slavery to you. 
 
 " Ever since, no entreaties, no threatcnings have 
 been spared to make me keep silence to you ; to which 
 my constant answer was, that I thought not that 
 consistent with my duty. I told him freely, that I 
 would lay all the foregoing reasons before you, when 
 you came to London, and hoped you would prevail 
 with him to alter his opinion. If not, we should all 
 write, if you thought proper, to my Lady Marchioness, 
 in order to have her determination. The endeavouring, 
 then, to make me keep silence to you, was also to 
 keep my Lady in the dark about such material points, 
 since I could not have access to let her know the 
 situation of our affairs, by any other means. 
 
 "He offered to let me leave your friend in the 
 beginning of winter, if I pleased, provided 1 would 
 make no opposition to his plan, that is, would not 
 inform you ; for I was not capable of making any 
 other opposition. He added, he would allow me my
 
 Jvr. fU-r,.-,. UKSIDENCK WITH LORD ANNAN DALE. is;) 
 
 salary for the whole year, ami that he would him.-' It' 
 supply my place, leave his house in Lomlon, and live 
 with your friend. Can all this pain- he taken, merely 
 for the dilference betwixt one house and another ' 
 
 " An evening or two before his departure from 
 Wehb'hall. In- otfered me the continuance of the same 
 friendship, which had always subsisted betwixt ns, it' 
 I would promise not to open my lips to you about 
 this matter. 
 
 The morning of his departure, he burst out all of 
 a sudden, when the subject was not talked of. into 
 threaten ings, and told me, that, if I ever entered upon 
 this subject with you, 1 should repent it. lie went 
 out of the house presently, and these were almost his 
 last words."' 
 
 '1'ln' circumstance of these " threat en ine\s " is amply 
 confirmed by a letter of \ iiieent himself, addressed to 
 the .Marchioness: an admirable specimen of the out- 
 pouring of a vulvar and insolent mind : 
 
 ' I will venture to say I have the knack of parrying 
 and nuiKi-iiiL:' him, but that Mr. Ilume. who is so 
 extraordinarily well paid, only for his company, and 
 lodged and lives, that, if it was at his own expense, 
 he could not do it tor CliOO a-year, should be ^loomv 
 and inconsolable for want of society, and show, for 
 this L'ood while past, little or no ,-ij.n of content or 
 gratitude to me for all i have done, and the bes! 
 intention.- to serve him. and principally promoted 1,: 
 beinu' in this station, and repeatedly oli'ered to come 
 (jilt freipiently darinix the winter and stay two or three 
 davs at a linn', whilst In; should be in town. I shall 
 do so. but nowise in consideration to him. but out of 
 tenderness and regard to our friend. Mr. Hume is ;i 
 scholar, and I believe an honest man: but one of his
 
 190 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1 745-1 74G. 
 
 best friends at Edinburgh at first wrote me, lie had eon- 
 versed more with books than the world, or any of the 
 elegant part of it, chiefly owing to the narrowness of 
 his fortune. He does not in this ease seem to know 
 his own interest, though 1 have long perceived it is 
 what he mostly has a peculiar eye to. Hereafter I 
 shall consider him no more than if I had never known 
 him. Our friend in reality does not desire he should 
 stay with him. I don't see his policy in offering to 
 oppose my pleasure, and think it very wrong in 
 him to mention his appealing to Sir James Johnstone. 
 J dare say your ladyship thinks as 1 do, that it is 
 unbecoming for me to be in a subservient state, in such 
 a case, to anybody. I am very zealously disposed to 
 be accountable to you; both regard, civility, justice, 
 long friendship and acquaintance, as well as near 
 relationship, are all the motives in the world for it ; 
 and I hoped my being concerned would produce all 
 possible good effects in your having constant, true, 
 and satisfactory accounts, as well as that, in duo time, 
 those advantages in your own affairs might be accruing, 
 which you are so justly entitled to, and which I have 
 before declared to be one of the main ends to be 
 accomplished, and which I believe you think I could 
 effect better than another. It is not one of the 
 most pleasing circumstances that, in the situation of 
 our friend, it is an inlet to strangers, taken in by 
 accident, to be too much acquainted with private 
 family affairs. I certainly desire that Sir James and 
 I should be in good correspondence, and I believe he 
 is satisfied of that ; but this man, taking it into his 
 he-ad to thwart my methods, and all to gratify his 
 own desire of being near town in the winter forsooth, 
 after the offer 1 have made of m vin^him relief sometimes.
 
 .Er. :U-.r>. RESIDENCE WITH LORD ANXANDALE. 191 
 
 and as nothing will satisfy sumo dispositions. I shall, 
 at the end of the year, close all accounts, in which 
 there will be done what was never done before, a 
 complete state of the receipt and the expense, and 
 then very willingly desire to be excused from having 
 any farther concern. Most certainly 1 would do 
 every tiling in inv power to serve and oblige you ; 
 hut if you desire the continuance of my care, please 
 to write to Sir .lames to signify occasionally to Mr. 
 Hume that the management is left to me. and not 
 to a stranger, who. if lie is not satisfied, is at his 
 liberty to remove from such attendance. "' 
 
 This illustration of character would be incomplete 
 without a passage in a subsequent letter, in which, 
 after Hume had ceased to attend on the Marquis, 
 \ incent characterizes the sort of person who would 
 be a desirable successor. 
 
 "' If any proper person is about him au:ain whilst 1 
 am concerned, terms for their behaviour niii.-t be 
 specified, and as they wax fat and are encouraged, 
 they must be discreet enough and reasonable in their 
 nature, so as not to kick. Such deportment would 
 enuau'e any u'ood otiices of mine, in favour of a worthy 
 man. lit for the purpose, which, 1 confess, is very hard 
 to lind. and possibly my Lord will not care to have 
 any body put upon him by way of terms of continu- 
 ance. 
 
 That the iron of this bondage entered into 
 his -old. is apparent in many pa>>au - es of lluui - 
 letters. I le regretted that lie had left in I ! nee 
 
 in a humble home, tor dependenc in a h>rdl\ man-ion : 
 he regretted that he had been hi to meddle with 
 intrigues, in which a vulvar >clti>h man. who knew
 
 192 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 the world, was far more than a match for a profound 
 philosopher. How wise it had been for him had he 
 never deserted the humble prospects of an independent 
 life, the following complaints, addressed to Lord Eli- 
 bank, testify : 
 
 " Meanwhile, I own to you, that my heart rebels 
 against this unworthy treatment ; and nothing but the 
 prospect of depending entirely on you, and being in- 
 dependent of him, could make me submit to it. I 
 have fifty resolutions about it. My loss, in ever 
 hearkening to his treacherous professions, has been 
 very great ; but, as it is now irreparable, I must make 
 the best of a bad bargain. I am proud to say that, 
 as I am no plotter myself, I never suspect others to 
 be such, till it be too late ; and, having always lived 
 independent, and in such a manner as that it never 
 was any one's interest to profess false friendship to 
 me, I am not sufficiently on my guard in this par- 
 ticular My way of living is more melancholy 
 
 than ever was submitted to by any human creature, 
 who ever had any hopes or pretensions to any thing- 
 better ; and if to confinement, solitude, and bad com- 
 pany, be also added these marks of disregard, .... 
 I shall say nothing, but only that books, study, leisure, 
 frugality, and independence, are a great deal better." 
 
 The filling up of the cup of his slights and injuries, 
 and the termination of his servitude, is thus described 
 by Hume; and one reads it with a feeling of relief, as 
 an event long protracted, and for the occurrence of 
 which the reader of the narrative is impatient. He 
 says, writing to Sir James Johnstone, on 17th April, 
 1 746 
 
 " You'll be surprised, perhaps, that I date my letters
 
 /lvr. .",4 -::.-,. UKSIDKNCK WITH LORD AXNANDALK. ]0:j 
 
 no longer from Weldehall : this happened from an 
 accident, if our inconstancies ami uncertainties can be 
 called such. 
 
 You niav remember in what humour you saw your 
 friend a ilav or two before yni left us. He hecame 
 uav ami ejood-huniourod afterwards, hut more mode- 
 rately than usual. A l"t<-r that, he returned to his 
 former disposition. These revolutions, we have ob- 
 served, are like the hot ami cold tits of an a^ue : ami, 
 like them too, in proportion as the one is gentle, the 
 other is violent. I > ut the in' d'ortune is. that this 
 prejudice continued even after he seemed, in other 
 respects, entirely recovered. So that, having tried 
 all wavs to hriicj; him to e'ood humour. by talking with 
 him. absenting myself for some days, dvc 1 have at 
 la^t been obliged yesterday to leave him. He is de- 
 termined, he savs. to live altogether alone ; ami I 
 
 fancv. iml 1. it must come to that. As far as I can 
 
 ju dj.-e. this caprice came from nobody, and no cause, 
 except phvsical one-;. The wonder only is. that it 
 was mi loim' a-coinine-/" 
 
 There is a stroke of evnerosity in his thu> att ribut ine,' 
 the impulse to physical cause.-, and not only nbstainiim' 
 from an accusation of his enemy, but expr's.-dv exempt- 
 ine' him from all blame. The readers of the corres- 
 pond aice have not probably all seconded the charitable 
 exemption : and the exulting tones in which Vincent 
 speaks of the dismissal, foster the suspicion that 
 In had paved the way for it. lie says, on tlm l.'ih 
 April. 
 
 " This day was a fortnight, niv Lord 'old .Mr. I fume 
 to be mine, and that in term- which I shall not rep -a* ; 
 the .Monday followine;. the same direc'ious w, re re- 
 newed in a verv peremptory manner, at ! ende 1 wi; h such 
 expressions of resentment, that 1 advised Hume ;o .--q 
 
 vol. r. (i
 
 194 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1740. 
 
 away the next day, which he did, the 8th ; and on the 
 15th I went out thither, and had told my Lord before, 
 that, if he could be reconciled to have him return, I 
 was very willing to contribute towards it, which pro- 
 posal was not in the least agreed to 
 
 Hume has not for many months stomached depending 
 in any respect upon my decision, who was originally 
 the cause of his being received at all, and had very 
 great difficulty, long since and at different times, to 
 get my Lord to bear him. He has mistaken the point ; 
 for there is nothing irritates his Lordship so much, as 
 the thought of any one showing some tokens of autho- 
 rity, and looking on what he says as caprice, and of no 
 consequence; and I really Wlieye it is some such notion 
 as this, which has produced so thorough an aversion." 
 
 There are two different views that may be taken 
 of Hume's motives for not having at once resigned 
 his appointment, at the very commencement of the 
 train of indignities to which he was subjected. Who- 
 ever anticipates that a man who had tutored his mind 
 by the rules of philosophy, and who lived an upright 
 and independent life, may be actuated by some better 
 views than those of mere pecuniary aggrandizement, 
 will give him credit for having believed it to be his 
 duty to watch over certain interests of the Annandale 
 family at the sacrifice of his own feelings. Those 
 who, strongly disapproving of his opinions as a philo- 
 sopher, believe them to be therefore the dictate of a 
 corrupted mind, will probably search for base and selfish 
 motives ; and will have little difficulty in identifying 
 them with a pure love of gain, sufficiently strong to 
 absorb all gentlemanly feeling and all spirit of inde- 
 pendence. The favourable and charitable view admits 
 of no direct demonstration on which an opponent could
 
 /Et. 34-35. RESIDENCE WITH LORD ANNANDALE. 1'j.} 
 
 not be able to throw doubt : and. the circumstances 
 being stated, each reader is left to form his own 
 opinion. 
 
 There is one thing that Hume never attempts to 
 conceal bis feeling that the situation was in a 
 pecuniary point of view advantageous to him, and 
 bis consequent desire to preserve it for his own sake, 
 so long as he could do so with honour. That it 
 should be so is one of those inconsistencies often 
 exhibited in fine geniuses, which ordinary men of the 
 world find it difficult to appreciate. It frequently 
 proceeds from this circumstance, that, not being 
 acquainted with the ordinary beaten tracks towards 
 wealth and independence, which other men so easily 
 find : yet desiring the latter, although perhaps they 
 care not for the former endowment, they lay hold with 
 avidity on any guide that is likely to lead them, by 
 however devious and unpleasant a path, to the desired 
 object. Men whose minds are much occupied with 
 abstract subjects, if they be poor and desire to be 
 free of unpleasant obligations, ;ire thus apt to grasp at 
 trifling rights with a pertinacity which has the air of 
 selfishness. They feel a timidness of their own ability 
 to make way in a bustling active world : and. conscious 
 that it would be vain to compete with hard-headed 
 acute men of business in the enlargement of their 
 fortune, treat with an undue importance any compa- 
 ratively trifling claims and advantages : while the saga- 
 cious world, which sees before it so many mere advan- 
 tageous paths to the objects of men's secondary ambi- 
 tion, ridicules their much ado about nothing- It was 
 1 1 ume's first and chief desire to be independent. That 
 if he had enjoyed a. choice of means, to be the hire 1 
 companion of the Marquis of Annandale would have 
 been among the last on which he would have fixed,
 
 196 TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 will easily be believed. But this occupation was the 
 only method of gaining a livelihood that offered itself 
 at the time ; it was an honest one, and the disagreeable 
 circumstances attending the means were overlooked 
 in the desirableness of the end. 
 
 It is necessary, also, along with the account of 
 Hume's efforts to gain a humble livelihood, to keep 
 in mind the state of society in Scotland at that time. 
 The union with England had introduced new habits 
 of living, which made the means of the smaller 
 aristocracy insufficient for the support of their younger 
 children. On the other hand, England was jealous 
 of Scottish rivalry in foreign trade : neither agri- 
 culture nor manufactures had made any consider- 
 able progress in Scotland ; while Indian enterprise 
 was in its infancy, and Scottish adventurers in the 
 East had not yet found a Pactolus in the Ganges. 
 At that period the gentleman-merchant, manufac- 
 turer, or money dealer; the civil engineer, architect, 
 editor, or artist, were nearly unknown in Scotland. 
 The only form in which a man poor and well born 
 could retain the rank of a gentleman, if he did not 
 follow one of the learned professions, was by obtain- 
 ing a commission in the army, or a government 
 civil appointment. 1 
 
 Here ended the channels to subsistence along with 
 
 1 So much had it been considered a legitimate object of the 
 education of a young gentleman to bring him up to the expectation 
 of a government office, that in the " Institute of the Law of Scot- 
 land," the posthumous work of John Erskine, who had been 
 appointed professor of Scots law in the university of Edinburgh in 
 1737, it is mentioned as one of the duties of the guardian of a young 
 man of good family with a small patrimony, to "advance a yearly 
 sum, far beyond the interest of his patrimony, that he may appear 
 suitably to his quality, while he is unprovided of any office under 
 the government by which he can live decently." I), i. Tit. ?. 25.
 
 A-.r. Dl-r,:,. RF.SIDKNCi: WITH L< >R1) ANNANDALE. ][>7 
 
 gentility, ami he who had none of these paths open to 
 liiin. ami had resolved to make an independent liveli- 
 hood by his own tah'iits or lahoar. had at once, as the' 
 (lerman nobles frequently do in the present day. to 
 abandon his rank, and heeome a shopkeeper or small 
 fanner, probably with the intention of returning to the 
 bosom of his former soeial circle when he had realized an 
 independence, but more com moldy ending his days with 
 the ''oiisciou>nes.-5 that he was. in the words of Henry 
 1 1 tint, "the first of a race of gentlemen \'\ ho had become 
 a tradesman." Any lawyer who pays attention to the 
 statistics of the Scottish decisions in mercantile cases, 
 during the earlier part of the eighteenth century, will 
 have noticed how frequently it occurs that the younger 
 sons of some good family are mentioned as fulfilling 
 the humblest duties of village tradesmen. 1 The prac- 
 tice is now comparatively unknown. The well edu- 
 
 1 W;il]ni!r -ive- :i (Minnie ill ll-t Vat h !! lit' tilt" JitiVOTt V "f tllO 
 
 iiic : i't v-li\ e." -avinir "I I." el Kil mar- 
 ls. I . I- -ii " ( km.w \\ hrtli.T I tohl v . . 1 1 that the 111:111 at the 
 tenni- court 1 u-. iti - 1 - that he ha- known him iline uith llie man 
 pamphlet- a! St.. rev'.- L r ale. ami -:iv he wouLl have 
 often keel] ;Ju<l it' I U'tillM ha\e taken him home to ilinner. 1 1* 
 
 wa- certainly .-11 ] r that in "lie nf hi- wile's intercept.'. 1 letters, 
 
 he 1- hen -he ha- pla^uei! their -teuanl for a l'>>rlui_'li! 1'r 
 nmi ev. ami can only imt three -hillim:-. Can anv one help pitying 
 -uch < 1 1 - 1 1 '. " Walpole'- Letter-, ii. 1 1 1. 
 
 ( . . l-inith foim.l the hohler of a So.ui-h I'eera-e keepm- a -I .vc 
 hop. aid 111 the ca-e of l.oi.l .M ,,r. 1 i 11 _ i on. wh > ha 1 keen ariv-tcl 
 for 1 lei.;, ami claime.l hi- priv ile-o in the ( '.minion I 'lea-, "i 1m hail ill' 
 la \ it, thai When he m le-tcl the - ihl |..nl. he w a- ' in-- 111 
 111 hi- appare], a- ha\ 1 1 1 lt a worn ..in - u i t of clot he- ami a >1 
 un. a nl 1 ni 1 -ixp.'hce in hi- pocket, he coiil 1 n.-t :; p e ! mi I . he 
 a peer of ( i i-eai 1 >i itam. ami of ina.'e e: I '.- 
 
 te-ciie'- Ivepori-. 1 Ho. Thi- fa in 1 1 v u a - pe.c; 1 ia rl_\ c.-jel .r.i ; . ,1. I .a ly 
 Mor.liiiLiten havini;- rai-e.l t he .p.-e.n. v. :. : . i " . p.-en .-.- 
 
 w ho kept a tie em w a- pr .te.-n i ' ' ; i_- l'i - -m 1 
 
 aue'nahle to the law- again-: keepiu.r .ii- ii'Tniy la a-.:-
 
 ]98 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-174G. 
 
 cated gentleman's son, if lie be brought up to commerce, 
 connects himself with those more liberal departments 
 of it, in which he may reap the advantage of his edu- 
 cation and training. To the practice which distin- 
 guished the period of depression above alluded to, 
 aided perhaps by the spirit of clanship, we may owe 
 the existence of so many aristocratic names among 
 the humbler tradesmen in Scotland. In England the 
 nomenclature of a city directory will as surely indicate 
 the court and the tradesmen end of the town, as the 
 Norman name used to indicate nobility and the Saxon 
 vassalage. We do not find Edward Plantagcnet 
 keeping an oyster shop, or Henry Seymour cobbling 
 shoes; but it would not be difficult to exemplify these 
 humble occupations, in the regal names of a Robert 
 Bruce or a James Stuart. In his essay on " The Parties 
 of Great Britain," published in 1741, Hume alludes to 
 the absence of a middle class in Scotland, where he 
 says there are only " two ranks of men," " gentlemen 
 who have some fortune and education, and the meanest 
 starving poor : without any considerable number of 
 the middling rank of men, which abounds more in 
 England, both in cities and in the country, than in any 
 other quarter of the world." 1 
 
 The history of the miserable quarrels and intrigues 
 
 1 IIo had an example connected with his own neighbourhood, if 
 not with his own family, of the practice of the gentry following 
 handicraft trades. George Hume, son of the minister of his native 
 parish, Chirnsido, who was connected with his own family, fol- 
 lowed the humble occupation of a baker in the Canongatc, and rose 
 to the dignity of deacon of his trade. Ill-natured tradition says, 
 that the philosopher disliked the vicinity to himself of this living 
 illustration of the depression of the Scottish aristocracy, and occa- 
 sionally put himself to some trouble to avoid meeting him on the 
 trect ; but this tradition is not consistent with Hume's manly 
 character.
 
 /Et. 3-1-35. RESIDENT!-] "WITH LORD AN'N'ANDALE. 199 
 
 connected with Hume's residence in the Annandale 
 family, is a sad picture, not only of the position of 
 
 the individual, but of his class. the poor scholars, 
 the servile drudges for bread. The modern literary 
 labourer or hack, as he is called by those who deem 
 the word labourer too respectable to lie employed on 
 such an occasion may look from the narrow bounds 
 of his own independent home, with a feeling of sincere 
 though not boastful superiority on David Hume, living 
 in the splendid bondage of a peer's mansion. I Jut in 
 drawing the comparison on which the reflection rests, 
 let him keep in view the state of literature and of 
 society at that period, and ask where lay tic hopes of 
 the literary labourer '. If he remained in the less 
 conspicuous walks of learned industry, and became a 
 divine or a teacher, there was before him the career 
 of I 'arson Adams, talcing his pot and pipe with the 
 upper servants: or that of the threadbare tutor, sub- 
 jected to the caprice and insolence of young men, who, 
 if they do not happen to be endowed with a high 
 tone of sentiment, must imbibe from all around them 
 this feeling, that they are as far beyond the parallel 
 of rank of their instructor, as the Brahmin is beyond 
 that of the I'ariah; or, thirdly, he might be the hired 
 victim of a semi-maniac, whose few rays of remaining 
 reason are but sufficient to indicate his own im- 
 measurable superiority to the bought attendant of his 
 humours. Those were ilie resources of the man who 
 distrusted the power of his own genius to soar into 
 the higher (lights of original literature: the man, 
 who niiuht perhaps be too conscientious. u>t to say 
 also too timid, to throw the chance of his hrin^ able 
 to meet his obligations to society ami to jn'rtorm his 
 social duties, on the chance of his succeed imj; in the 
 race for literarv distinction.
 
 200 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 But suppose the race run and gained, and the 
 laurels on the victor's brow, for what, then, has all 
 been risked, all encountered ? True, Hume himself 
 became one of the distinguished few who gained both 
 fame and fortune ; but in the ordinary case, if the 
 former were achieved, the latter did not follow ; and 
 in seeking the types of literary distinction in his age, 
 Fielding* Goldsmith, and Johnson are the names that 
 rise before us. Was the garden in which these flowers 
 bloomed so genial that we would have others trans- 
 planted thither ? 
 
 Let not, then, the considerate and charitable reader 
 overlook all these palliations of the motives which may 
 have induced a great man to humble himself and bear 
 so much contumely. Let us suppose that he who 
 reads this narrative is an editor of a newspaper, with 
 a salary of say two or three hundred a-year ; or that 
 he writes articles for the periodicals, and neither in 
 name nor in reality bound to any one, gets the fair 
 price of his independent labour ; or that he is a teacher 
 in an active commercial academy, who, after the har- 
 assing labours of the day, can retire to the bosom of 
 his own family, without fearing the frown or desiring 
 the smile of any great man, let him, if such should 
 be his lot, indulge, in all its luxury, the consciousness 
 of his superior independence and happier fate ; but in 
 looking from its elevation to David Hume, a bondman 
 in the house of an insane lord, let compassion rather 
 than contempt tinge his estimate of the illustrious 
 victim's motives, and let him thank the better times, 
 that with all the drudgery of his lot, its disappointed 
 aspirations, and the bitterness of unavailing efforts to 
 raise it to a higher and more justly-respected position 
 in the eye of the world, have yet enabled him to quaff 
 the sweet cup of independence.
 
 Aa. f>i-:::>. UKSIDKNCK WITH LORD ANNAN PAL!:. 
 
 liefore entirely leaving the subject of Hume's con- 
 nexion with tli" Marquis of Annnndale. it is necessary 
 to take a view of his conduct rc^ardim; a pecuniary 
 dispute wliicli arose out of the transaction. The 
 terms of the agreement were wry distinctly set forth 
 I v Captain \ ineent in the following letter: 
 
 "SiK". You de.-ire to have a letter from me. ex- 
 pre.-.-inu - all the conditions of the agreement concluded 
 betwixt us. with regard to your living with the Mar- 
 quis of Annandale. In compliance with so reasonable 
 a request, 1 hei'ehy acknow ledev that. by virtue of 
 powers committed to me liy the said Marquis, and 
 with the approbation and conseiit of his Lordship and 
 Sir .lames .Johnstone, I enmiu'ed that my Lord should 
 pay you three hundred pounds sterling a-year. so hum - 
 as you continued to live with him, he^innimj; from the 
 lirst of April, one thousand seven hundred and forty- 
 live : al.-o that the said Marquis, or his heirs, should 
 he en<_ei'jvd to pay you. or your heirs, the sum of three 
 hundred pound-, as one year's salary, even though the' 
 Marquis should happen to die any time in the lir.-t 
 vear of your attendance, or should einhrace any new 
 scheme or plan of life, which should make him choose 
 that you .should not continue to live out the first year 
 with him. Another condition was. that, if you should, 
 on voiir part, choose to leave the Marquis anv time 
 in the lirst or subsequent years, yen should he I'vrr to 
 do i: ; and that the Marquis should he hound | > j :i\ 
 you your -alary for tin; time you had attended l.ini. 
 1 also the salary for that quarter in whieh \<>n 
 ,-l.oald leave him, in the same manner as if that 
 quarter should he fully expired. 
 
 " These were the conditions of our agreement a ho at 
 the end of February last, on your lirst coming up to 
 London for the purposes here mentioned, and which 1
 
 202 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 have committed to writing for your satisfaction and 
 security, this first day of September, at Weldehall, 
 four miles south of St. Alban's, in the county of Hert- 
 ford, and in the year one thousand seven hundred and 
 forty-five." 
 
 Vincent, in continuation, and for Hume's informa- 
 tion, gives him a copy of the agreement, under which 
 one of his predecessors in office, by name Peter Young, 
 had been engaged ; an agreement, containing terms 
 rather more favourable to the stipendiary than those 
 of which Hume had consented to accept. And he 
 concludes, 
 
 " You see the latter part of Mr. Young's agreement 
 arc more advantageous terms than the latter part of 
 yours ; but I have done as much as I thought reason- 
 able and proper for me, and as much as you desired. 
 I make no doubt but, in any contingency, all the 
 Marquis's friends and relations, would be far from 
 reducing your conditions less than that of others in 
 the same case, as, in my opinion, and I dare believe 
 in theirs, your character and conduct would rather 
 entitle you to a preference."' 
 
 Hume had in the mean time received a present of 
 100 from the Marquis of Annandale, no reference to 
 which is made in the agreement, and which he con- 
 sidered as a gratuity to induce him to leave Scotland, 
 and enter on those negotiations with Lord Annandale 
 and his friends, which ended in his beino; eno;ao-ed, but 
 might have ended otherwise ; as an indemnity, in short, 
 for the time wasted and the trouble taken in the pre- 
 liminary arrangements. Indeed, it will have been 
 noticed in his letter to Mr. Sharp, quoted above, 1 that 
 this gratuity was sent by the Marquis along with the 
 
 1 P. 179.
 
 JEt. 34-J15. RESIDENCE WITH LORD ANNAXDALE. 203 
 
 invitation to Hume to repair to London and hold a 
 conference on the subject. Hume, then, was engaged 
 at l'))(M> a-year, with the condition that for any broken 
 quarter a full quarter's salary should be paid. His 
 engagement commenced on 1st April, 17b"). It ter- 
 minated on the l;">th April, 17h. He thus considered 
 himself entitled to l!:Jl><) as a year's salary, and to \l7o 
 as the salary of the quarter, of which fifteen days had 
 run. In the mean time, however, just after the expiry 
 of the tirst year, it had occurred to the magnanimous 
 Vincent, that though better terms than those given to 
 Hume, had been obtained by the Peter Youngs and 
 others, Hume's salary was twice as much as it should 
 be. and ought to be reduced by a half. Hume, as if lie 
 had been subdued in spirit, by the life he had been lead- 
 ing feeling as if his lot were cast, and his fate fixed 
 oblivious of the glorious dreams of ambition that had 
 dawned on him ten years earlier in life and were yet 
 to be realized, seems to have calmly contemplated 
 this pecuniary reduction, and to have been inclined to 
 agree to it if it should form the prelude to a perma- 
 nent engagement, lie thus wrote to the mother of 
 the Marquis. 
 
 * I had the honour of :i letter from my Lord Mar- 
 quis last spring, inviting me to London, which I ac- 
 cordingly obeyed. He made me proposals of living 
 with him ; and Mr. \ incent, in concert with Sir. James 
 Johnstone, mentioned at first the yearly salary of 
 UoOO as an allowance which they thought reasonable; 
 because my Lord had always paid so much to all the 
 other gentlemen that attended him, even when his 
 way of living, in other particulars, was much more 
 expensive than at present. Since that, Mr. \ incent 
 thinks this allowance too much, and proposes to reduce 
 it from 300 to U1.30. Mv answer was. that what-
 
 201 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-1746. 
 
 ever your Ladyship and my Lord should think my 
 attendance merited, that I would very willingly accept 
 of. As he still insisted on the reasonableness of his 
 opinion, I have used the freedom to apply to your 
 Ladyship, to whose sentiments every one, that has the 
 honour of being connected with the family of Annandale, 
 owe so entire a deference. J shall not insist on any 
 circumstances in my own favour. Your Ladyship's 
 penetration will easily be able to discover those, as 
 well as what may be urged in favour of Mr. Vincent's 
 opinion. And your determination shall be entirely 
 submitted to by me." 
 
 At the same time he appears to have submitted his 
 grievances to the consideration of his kind friend 
 Henry Home, who, in a letter to Sir James Johnstone, 
 expresses views which will probably meet with more 
 sympathy than those announced by Hume himself. 
 
 "Karnes, \Uh April, 1T4G. 
 
 "Sir, 1 have a letter from Mr. David Hume lately, 
 which surprised me not a little, as if there were a 
 plot formed against him to diminish his salary. For 
 my part, I was never hearty in his present situation ; 
 as I did not consider the terms offered as any sufficient 
 temptation for him to relinquish his studies, which, 
 in all probability, would redound more to his advan- 
 tage sonic time or other. For this reason, though I 
 had a good deal of indignation at the dishonourable 
 behaviour of the author of this motion, yet underhand 
 I was not displeased with any occasion, not blamcablo 
 on my friend's part, to disengage him. 1 thought 
 instantly of writing him a letter not to stay upon any 
 terms after such an affront ; but, reflecting upon your 
 interest in this matter, I found such an advice would
 
 Air. :: I :>:,. UKSIDKN'CK WITH I.uIiD ANNANDALI'. n, 
 
 ::<-. 
 
 be inconsistent with th" iluty I nwr you. and then- to re 
 stopped short till I should hear from vim. I ni well 
 a j >] ri/.. '- 1 t.t' tlif uivat t < 1 1 1 r 1 1 -- you have for your 
 poor chief: and it is certainly of some consequence 
 that he should have about him at least one person of 
 integrity: and it should have ^iveu me ]>aiii to he 
 the author of au advice that nii_ht alfeet you. thou-h 
 bu! indirectly. At the same time. 1 cannot think of 
 sacriticinu; my friend, even ujion your account, to make 
 him submit to dishonourable terms : and. therefore. 
 if y on esteem I lis at tendance of any use to the Mar<|iiis. 
 I he_ you'll interpose that no more attempts of this 
 kind he made. For 1 must be so free to declare that, 
 ,-houhl he himself yield to accept of lower terms. 
 which I trust he will not be so mean-spirited to do, 
 he shall never have my consent, and 1 know he will 
 not act w ithoiit it." 
 
 The Marchioness declined to interfere, and thus 
 award by which lluine agreed to abide was not 
 11" had l ha- be^aii the til's' ouarter of a new 
 in 1 1 : ;1 old agreement, and he hud not con- 
 sented either to abandon the term.-, of that agreement 
 for the time that was niniiin ;, or even to make i, ., 
 terms applicable to any subsequent period, t lo ui-h he 
 had shown a disposition to accept, under certain cir- 
 cumstances, of these new terms. 1 1 is abrupt dismissal. 
 ho \ e\ ;-. put an end to the negotiation : and. as ; 
 teinis of his agreement entitled him to the ^7-~> it' 1c 
 had chos 'ii to throw up his appointment, he ; hoi;-;.' 
 !. was not the l,.>s entitled to tic money that !. ha ! 
 b en dismissed, and that the ice m ' ' .. ai I 
 siil'ine trcatua nt connected with hi- di-mb-- a! houb! 
 not beany i ml ucein nt to him to a! i . lie 
 
 could not lose si_d:t, moreover, ef the ci; cuiustance, 
 that to place the earth - more at tin ir ease in dealii
 
 20G THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1745-174G. 
 
 with him, he had abandoned his claims on the pro- 
 fessorship in Edinburgh. It is true that he had small 
 chance of obtaining it, but that chance, such as it 
 was, he was desired by the friends of the Marquis to 
 abandon, and lie did so. The question with him then 
 was, how much injury he should allow to be added to 
 the insults he had received. The 300, for his year's 
 services, were paid. The payment of the 75, for the 
 subsequent quarter, was resisted. 
 
 On the 9th June, 1746, Henry Home wrote a 
 sensible and kind letter on the subject to Sir James 
 Johnstone, in which he laid down the law of the case, 
 that Hume's claim of salary for the broken quarter 
 must be on the old agreement, and could not be "upon 
 the footing of a proposal or offer, which never came 
 the length of a covenant, and which, therefore, never 
 had any effect ; " and he says, " The question then 
 is, whether he is entitled to 75, for the broken 
 quarter, or only to 37, 10s. The thing is a mere 
 trifle to the Marquis of Annandale, but of some 
 importance to a young gentleman who has not a 
 large stock ; and supposing the claim to be doubtful, 
 I have great confidence in your generosity, that 
 for a trifle you would not choose to leave a grudge 
 in the young gentleman's mind, of a hardship done to 
 him. 
 
 " But to deal with you after that plain manner 
 which ] know you love, I will speak out my mind to 
 you, that in strict justice, and in the direct words of 
 the agreement, Mr. Hume is entitled to 75." 
 
 1 Iume never entirely abandoned this claim. He was 
 not in a position to urge it forward immediately after 
 his dismissal, as another and more agreeable official 
 appointment called him abroad. So late as 1700 and 
 during the next ensuing year, we find him urging his
 
 ALr. O-i-So. RESIDENCE WITH LuKI) AXXAXDALE. 207 
 
 demand, and allusion is made to an action having l>een 
 raised in the Court of Session. " The ease," says 1 >r. 
 Murray, "must have been settled extrajudicially or 
 ly reference ; for. after a careful search in the 
 minute hook of the Court of Session, Ave do not lind 
 that it was ever enrolled." 
 
 There has been a general tendency to consider 
 this pertinacious adherence to a pecuniary claim, as 
 a proceeding unworthy of a philosopher. In any 
 ordinary man, whether wise or foolish after the wisdom 
 of the world, such conduct would have appeared but 
 just and natural ; but a philosopher is presumed to 
 have no more respect for money and its value, than 
 the generous and sympathizing gentleman on the 
 stage, who on the impulse of the moment, always 
 tosses a heavy purse to somebody, without having 
 any mere distinct notion of its contents than the 
 admiring audience can have. Hume's notions of 
 the.-' 1 matters were ditl'erent. " Am I." he said, "in 
 a condition to make the Marquis of Annandale a 
 present of ~77>, that of right belongs to me." It is 
 true that in the interval between the debt being in- 
 curred, and his insisting on its payment, he had by 
 frugality and industry made himself independent. In 
 17 17. he tells us that he was possessed of \i 1 (M)O, and 
 in I7ti<>, his fortune had probablv considerably in- 
 creased, though the sources of emolument which made 
 him subsequently worth UKHIO a-year. had not been 
 then opened up. The surplus of the Marquis of 
 Annandale s estate' had in the mean time accumulated 
 in the manner that has been already mentioned, and 
 Hume probably thought it was an action more truly 
 worthy of a philosopher, to make o\er his salary of 
 librarian to the poor blind poet l'daeklock. than to
 
 90S TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1746. 
 
 abandon a claim of 75, justly due by an estate which 
 had developed a surplus of 400,000. 
 
 Early in the year 174G, Hume received an invita- 
 tion from General St. Clair, "to attend him as a 
 secretary to his expedition, which was at first meant 
 against Canada, but ended in an incursion on the coast 
 of France." 1 Before his departure, and while he ex- 
 pected to have to cross the Atlantic, he wrote the 
 following letter, addressed to " Mr. Alexander Home, 
 Advocate, His .Majesty's Solicitor for Scotland, at 
 Edinburgh." The concluding remarks evidently relate 
 to the state prosecutions following on the insurrection 
 in Scotland. 
 
 "Portsmouth, May 23, 17-16. 
 
 " Dear Solicitor, A letter you have good reason 
 to expect from me, before my departure for America ; 
 but a long one you cannot look for, if you consider 
 that I knew not a word of this matter till Sunday 
 last at night, that we shall begin to embark from 
 hence in two or three days, and that I had very in- 
 geniously stripped myself of every tiling, by sending 
 dowii my whole baggage for Scotland on Sunday 
 morning. Such a romantic adventure, and such a 
 hurry I have not heard of before. The office is very 
 genteel 10s. a day, perquisites, and no expenses. 
 Remember me kindly to your brothers. Tell Frank 
 i ask' him ten thousand pardons. Let Mr. Dysart, 
 and .Mrs. Dysart know of my good wishes. Be 
 assured yourself of my friendship. I cannot leave 
 Europe without giving you one instance of it, and so 
 much the greater that with regard to any other person 
 1 VI y own Life.
 
 'KDITION , ) i ill: ( i .AST 0\ i'itAX' I. 
 
 I)llt VOU, if Would lie fl dan I'Miis one. Ill .-boi't, I 
 
 have 1 u told, that fh" x.-iil of party has hum apt 
 
 somet inies to carry \ou too far in your expressions, 
 and that tools arc afraid of vour violence in your new 
 oiiiee. Seek the praise, mv dear Sandy, of humanity 
 and moderation. 'Tis the most durable, the ino.-t 
 ;.,;<.'< 'a M<\ and in the cud the most profitable. 
 
 '" 1 am, dear Sandy, yours most sincerely. 
 
 " i'or (Jol's sake, think of Wi'i'j/ il/iut'>lt.nn.'" i 
 
 the same time we tin d him writing to Henry 
 iio:ae, and .speculating on the possibility of himself 
 joining the military service. 
 
 " As to myself, my way of life is agreeable : and 
 though it may not be so ])i'ofitable as I am told, yet 
 -o hue" an army as will be under the u'encral'.- com- 
 mand in .\nmrica, must certainly render my per piisiies 
 vm-\ cm id.'i'aide. I have been ;isk"d, whether 1 would 
 inelin to (Miter into the service ? My answer was, 
 that at my years ! could not decent Iv accept of a 
 lower commi.~-.ion tlmii a company. The only pro- 
 -pect of working this point would he. to procure at 
 first a company in an American reeiment. ],y the 
 choice of the colonic... I'ut thi- ! build nol on. nor 
 indi ed am I vry fond of it." I ). 1 1 ." 
 
 '1 he person to whom we thus tind Hume actine; in 
 i he capacity of secretary, was the Honourable dames 
 *t. ' \-\ir. on" of iho.s" command ts who- fortius it i 
 ]'!- d < . hr< uah a lone;' lif of ac* ive militarv 
 
 ,-e I.-.-vt. 
 
 i " 
 
 
 ;ui.-hed action : !<; rhou di 
 ; a 
 
 i . I 
 
 ';. 1" i" ' : . ' ;i 
 
 ' 
 
 .-.'... '. .-' CO.) , ' !
 
 210 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME, 1746, 
 
 St. Clair. His elder brother being engaged in the 
 rebellion of 1715, was attainted by act of Parliament. 
 The father left the family estates to General St. Clair, 
 who, with a generous devotion to the hereditary prin- 
 ciple, conveyed them to his elder brother, on that 
 gentleman obtaining a pardon and a statutory removal 
 of the disabilities of the attainder. He obtained the 
 rank of colonel on 26th July, 1722, of major-general on 
 15th August, 1741, and of lieutenant-general on 4th 
 June, 1745. During the last named year he was 
 quarter-master general of the British forces in 
 Flanders. He was for many years a member of 
 Parliament, having been elected for the Dysart 
 burghs in 1722, and subsequently for the counties 
 of Sutherland and Fife. He died at Dysart on 30th 
 November, 17G2. 1 
 
 The marine force connected with the proposed expe- 
 dition was commanded by Amiral Richard Lestock, 
 a man whose professional fate was in some respects 
 of a like character with that of his military colleague. 
 The intended object of the armament was an attack 
 on the French possessions in Canada, and steps had 
 been taken to second its efforts on the other side of the 
 Atlantic, by bringing together a British American 
 force. But the indolence or negligence of the 
 authorities at home, delayed the departure of the 
 fleet until it was too late to attempt such an enter- 
 prise : and then, as if to furnish a vivid illustration of 
 weak and blundering counsels, that all these prepara- 
 tions might not be thrown away, the force prepared 
 for operations in America was sent to attempt a 
 descent on the coast of France. 
 
 The naval force, consisting of sixteen ships of the 
 
 ' Douglas's Peerage, ii. J01-.502,
 
 Air. X>. EXPEDITION TO Till: COAST OE [RAMK. y. | | 
 
 line, eiulit frigates, and two bomb-ketches, accom- 
 panied l v live thousand eie.ht hundred land troop.--, 
 including matrosses and bombardiers, set sail from 
 Plymouth on 11th September. 1 Its destination was 
 the town of Fort I/Orient, then a flourishing port, as 
 the dt-pot of the French Fast India Company, \\ 1 1 1 < - 1 1 
 has since fallen to decay in common with the u;reat 
 establishment \\ i 1 1 1 which it was connected. The 
 history and fate of the expedition will be best described 
 in Hume's own words. Jt afforded no harvest of 
 military ulory to either country ; ami while it is but 
 slightly described by our own historians, it is scarcely 
 ever mentioned by those of France. National par- 
 tiality will hardly make any lover of the true ^lory 
 of his country regret that such an attempt was a 
 failure. The method of conducting war by descents 
 upon an enemy's coast, is a relic of barbarism which 
 it is to be hoped the progress of humanity and civili- 
 sation will not permit either false enthusiasm or the 
 auspices of a ereat name to revive annum' the nations 
 of Furope. It is precisely the warlike tactic of the 
 scalping knife the wreak ine; against the weak tiiat 
 vengeance which cannot reach the strong- Tlie rules 
 of civilized war are to strike such blows as will 
 annihilate the power of an enemy's e/overnment, with 
 the lea>t injury to the peaceful inhabitants of the 
 country. hescents on a coast do much injurv to 
 individuals they do little harm to the enemy's 
 U'overnineut. It is a system bv which the ^ i t : j I part< 
 are not attacked until thev suffer bv exhaustion from 
 the injuries done to the extremities. Such expeditions 
 do a grievous injurv to our enemies, to accomjlish a 
 
 1 Caini'l-lO N;i\:il HO-ry. i- 
 |>"ar- tlial Ivmln.'V cmi:;i:i;i:,iI.-.1 < \i- 
 
 .. A h . . A. It ,,
 
 212 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746. 
 
 very small good to ourselves. 13ut if they cannot be 
 avoided, the next step of mercy is to make them 
 effectual by energetic and well-organized measures 
 which render resistance hopeless, and subject the 
 places attacked only to the modified license of a 
 well-disciplined army. The blunders that made the 
 present attempt as contemptible as it was cruel, are 
 amply recorded by Hume, and may be a lesson of the 
 responsibility incurred by those who lit out warlike 
 expeditions. 
 
 In this expedition Hume not only acted as secretary 
 to the general, but was appointed by him judge 
 advocate of all the forces under his command, by a 
 commission " given on board his majesty's ship 
 Superb, the third day of August, 1746Y' 1 in virtue of 
 the power which the commander of an army possesses 
 to fill up a vacancy in that office. The mixed 
 ministerial and judicial duties of a judge advocate 
 require a general knowledge of the great principles of 
 law and justice, with a freedom from that technical 
 thraldom of the practical lawyer which would be 
 unsuitable to the rapidity of military operations ; and 
 there can be little doubt that these delicate and impor- 
 tant functions were in this instance committed to one 
 in every way capable of performing them in a satis- 
 factory manner. 
 
 Some of Hume's permanent friendships appear to 
 have been formed during this expedition. GeneralAbcr- 
 cromby, with whom we will afterwards find him cor- 
 responding, was quarter-master general, Harry Erskinc 
 was deputy quarter-master, and Edmonstoime of New- 
 ton was a captain in the Royal Scottish regin 
 : )f the operations of the expedition, and some othei
 
 i. v : ::i] rii i\ 'in ; !ii r o; ni.\.v f . r -;; 
 
 ' :' . Willi it. In' S"l' 
 
 1 1 1 .' follow in l:' uarrat I ^ T r. -1 ohn I ! muo o 
 Home, of N ii>c\vlls. 
 
 :.;'.- i; c] vssfui. 
 
 nv i< ^-s or dishonoi: :. Tin public 
 
 ! (. rl ' inly ; 'iv inf ran ! vou that, beine; 
 
 ( unci, {ill it was too kite to no to 
 
 luiiti ' ry. who were o illina; to make 
 
 ao." of so con^idm a 1 '!.} :i -a a and html 
 
 | sent its to seek adventures on the const of 
 
 ! - 'rance. rhouejli both the general an i :idn 'nil \v r" 
 
 'tally 'Mruviniii'. .j with every jmrt of ,; - 'oust, 
 
 without pilots, '.otiilfs. or intelli m'Iic of any kind, 
 
 : ri 1 ' }] \" i' !a ad tin' n nuna >n maos of t 1 count r\ ; 
 
 li.'iin: assnri'd there wre no regular troop.-, near 
 
 this, v. hole coa-t. they hoped it was not j ^>i1lf hut 
 
 something 1 1 1 1 l: ! 1 1 ho Miccessd'ully undertaken. They 
 
 1 >< lit thoir course to I'orf l/< >rient, a tine town on the 
 
 eoa-t of Iiritanuy. the seat of the I'Vench Kast India 
 
 trad", and which about twentv seal's ;ii_ r o was hut a 
 
 mean, contemptible village. The fore" of this town, the 
 
 -' . fth of its ".arri-oa, the nature of the coa.-d and 
 
 couutrv, tliev jirot'ess.'d theni.-elves entirely ignorant 
 
 i :'. i . ]! iVoin >ucli hearsay information as they ha '. 
 
 lally picked up at I'lymouth. However, we made 
 
 . '. i\ : :'" of three 'lays, landed in t li face of 
 
 aho !* :J(Mif) ;oaaed militia on the L'Oth of September, 
 
 i-l ill up ne\t day to the "jutes of I .'< M ; ' I 
 .- '.moved it , 
 
 1 1 lies at the hot torn of a line h:i\ t wo lt.-:i^ii"s 
 Inn :'. the month of whieh is Co i.maaa la ' iv, a 
 
 Mi.i citad I Li a s. or Id:.' ' . a >} oi en d 
 
 a th. iiiii! ,*d r anted oa " pf uiu-a!a Ti to'.\ n of
 
 214 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746. 
 
 L'Orient itself has no great strength, though sur- 
 rounded by a new wall of about 30 foot high, fortified 
 with half moons, and guarded with some cannon. 
 They were in prodigious alarm at so unexpected an 
 attack by numbers which their fears magnified, and 
 immediately offered to capitulate, though upon terms 
 which would have made their conquest of no signifi- 
 cancy to us. They made some advances a few hours 
 after, to abate of their demands ; but the general 
 positively refused to accept of the town on any 
 other condition than that of surrendering at discretion. 
 He had very good reason for this seeming rigour and 
 hauo-htiness. It has long been the misfortune of 
 English armies to be very ill-served in engineers ; and 
 surely there never was on any occasion such an 
 assemblage of ignorant blockheads as those which at 
 this time attended us. They positively affirmed it 
 w r as easily in their power, by the assistance of a 
 mortar and two twelve pounders, in ten hours' time, 
 either to lay the town and East India magazine in 
 ashes, or make a breach by which the forces might 
 easily enter. This being laid before the general and 
 admiral, they concluded themselves already masters 
 of the town, and 1 needed grant no terms. They were 
 besides afraid that had they taken the town upon 
 terms, and redeemed it for a considerable sum of 
 money, the good people of England, who love mischief, 
 would not be satisfied, but would still entertain a suspi- 
 cion that the success of his majesty's arms had been 
 secretly sold by his commanders. Besides, nothing 
 could be a greater blow to the French trade than the 
 destruction of this town; nor what 2 could imprint a 
 stronger terror of the English naval power, and more 
 
 1 Sic in MS. 2 Ibid.
 
 Jlvr. ;$5. EXPEDITION TO I'll i: COAST OF EHANCE. 21S 
 
 etfectuully reduce the French to a necessity of guarding 
 their coast with regular forces, which must produce a 
 ereat diversion from their ambitious, projects on the 
 frontiers. I>ut when the engineers came to execution, 
 
 it was found they could do nothing of what they 
 had promised. Not one of their carkassos ( >r red hot 
 balls took t'tb'ct. As tin* town could not be invested 
 either by sea or bind, they eot a garrison of irregulars 
 and regulars, which was above double our number, 
 and plaved ',)') pieces of cannon upon us while we 
 could bring only four against them. Excessive rains 
 fell, which brought sickness amongst our men that 
 had been stowed in transports during the whole 
 summer. \\ e were ten miles from the Meet, tin* roads 
 entindv spoilt, every thin^ was drawn by men. the 
 whole horses in the country beine driven away. So 
 much fatigue and duty <piiie overcame our little' 
 armv. The llec.-t amdiored in a very unsafe place in 
 (^uimperlaN l>ay. for these and other reasons it was 
 unauiiuou.-iy determined to raise the .-ioe,. on the L'7th 
 of September: and to this measure there was not 
 one contradictory opinion eitln r in the fleet or army. 
 \\ e have nut lost above ten men by the enemy in the 
 ! expedition, and were not in the le ;i s( molested 
 either in our retreat or re-embarkation. We met 
 with a violent storm on the 1st of < K'tober. while we 
 were y.'t \rry near the coast, and have now 'j,' t into 
 (Juib ron Hay south of l)elle-I>le. where we wait for 
 a ri'inl'orceuieut of three battalions from Enjand. 
 Tie re a re live or m\ of our t rans j torts :i rn i>-i n_i". \ ft r 
 our ! I'eneh projects are over, which mu-i !> very .-.oun 
 
 becail>e of the late Sc:i>Oll. We -ail to Cork and 
 
 !\ in-sale. 
 
 ' While we lay at Phenieur. a village about a 1 -avrue 
 from L'Orient. there happened in our familv one of
 
 2J6 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746. 
 
 the most tragical stories ever I heard of, and than 
 which nothing ever gave me more concern. I know 
 not if ever you hoard of Major Forhes, a brother of Sir 
 
 Arthur's. He was, and was esteemed, a man of the 
 greatest sense, honour, modest)', mildness, and equality 
 of temper, in the world, I lis learning was very great 
 for a man of any profession ; but a prodigy for a 
 soldier. His bravery had been tried, and was unques- 
 tioned. He had exhausted himself with fatigue and 
 hunger for two days, so that he was obliged to leave 
 the earn}) and come to our quarters, where i took the 
 utmost care of him, as there was a great friendship 
 betwixt us. He expressed vast anxiety that be should 
 be obliged to leave bis duty, and fear lest his honour 
 should suffer by it. I endeavoured to quiet his mind 
 as much as possible, and thought I had left him toler- 
 ably composed at night ; but, returning to his room 
 early next morning, I found him, with small remains 
 of life, wallowing in his own blood, with the arteries 
 of his arm cut asunder. 1 immediately sent for a 
 surgeon, got a bandage tied to his arm, and recovered 
 him entirely to his senses and understanding. He 
 lived above four-and-twenty hours after, and I had 
 several conversations with him. Never a man ex- 
 pressed a more steady contempt of life, nor more 
 determined philosophical principles, suitable to his 
 exit. He begged of me to unloosen his bandage, and 
 hasten his death, as the last act of friendship T could 
 show him : but, alas ! we live not in Greek or Roman 
 times. He told me that lie knew he could not live a 
 few days : but if lie did, as soon as he became Ids own 
 master, he would take a more expeditious method, 
 which none of his friends could prevent, ' I die,' says 
 lie, ' from a jealousy of honour, perhaps too delicate : 
 and do you think, if it were possible for me to live, J
 
 /Ft. P.V EXPEDITION TO TIIK COAST OF FRANCE. 217 
 
 "would now consent to it. to be a gazing-stock to the 
 foolish world. I am too far advanced to return. 
 And if life was odious to me before, it must be doubly 
 so at present.' lie became delirious a few hours 
 before he died, lie had wrote a short letter to his 
 brother, above ten hours before he cut his arteries. 
 we found on the table." 
 " ({'iiU'ron lliy In BnUimtit, Oct. 4, 174G." 
 
 " I'.S. The general has not sent off his despatches 
 till to-day, so that 1 have an opportunity of saying a 
 few words more. Our army disembarked on the -lth 
 of October, and took possession of the peninsula of 
 Quiberon, without opposition. We lay there, without 
 molestation, for eight days, though the enemy had 
 formed a powerful, at least a numerous, army of 
 militia on the continent. The separation of so many 
 of our transports, and the reinforcements not coming, 
 determined us to reimbark, and return home, with 
 some small hopes that our expedition has answered 
 the chief part of its intended purpose, by making a 
 diversion from the French army in Flanders. The 
 French protend to have gained a great victory ; but 
 with what truth we know not. The admiral landed 
 some sailors, and took possession of the two islands 
 of Mount and Medio, which were secured by small 
 forts. The governor of one of them, when lie surren- 
 dered his fort, delivered up his purse to tlie s< a officer, 
 beeped him to take care of it. and secure il from 
 the pillage of the sailors. The officer took charge of 
 it. and, finding afterwards a proper opportunity to 
 examine it, found it, contained the important -am of 
 ten sous, which is less than sixpence ef our money. v ' 
 
 "Ociob > i To
 
 218 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746. 
 
 As Niebuhr was an eye-witness of the battle of 
 Copenhagen, so Hume also had thus an opportunity 
 of observing some practical warlike operations, though 
 they were on a much smaller scale, and were witnessed 
 in much less exciting circumstances than those which 
 attended the position of the citizen of Copenhagen. 
 Thus, although not themselves soldiers, these two 
 great historians swell the list, previously containing 
 the names of Thucydides, Xenophon, Polybius, Guic- 
 ciardini, Davila, and Rapin, of those historians of 
 warfare who have witnessed its practical operation. 
 Voltaire, when the accuracy of his description of a 
 battle was questioned by one who had been engaged 
 in it, bid the soldier keep to his profession of fighting, 
 and not interfere with another man's, which was that 
 of writing ; but there is little doubt, that the person 
 who would accurately describe military manoeuvres, 
 will have his task facilitated by having actually wit- 
 nessed some warlike operations, on however small a 
 scale, and however unlike in character to those which 
 he lias to describe. Scott considered that he had 
 derived much of his facility as a narrative historian 
 from his services in the Mid-Lothian yeomanry ; and 
 Gibbon found that to be an active officer in the 
 Hampshire militia was not without its use to the 
 historian of the latter days of Rome. 
 
 It is pretty clear that Hume looked upon these 
 operations, not only as events likely to furnish him 
 with some critical knowledge of warlike affairs, but 
 with the inquiring eye of one who might have an 
 opportunity of afterwards narrating them in some 
 historical work. In the appendix there will be found 
 a pretty minute account by Hume, of the causes 
 which led to the failure of the expedition, in a paper 
 apparently drawn up as a vindication of the conduct
 
 /Et. fir,. EXPEDITION TO THE COAST OF FRANCE. 219 
 
 of General St. Clair. It docs not appear to have 
 been printed, although it seems to have been designed 
 for the press. It contains the following passage: 
 A certain foreign writer, more anxious to tell his 
 stories in an entertaining manner than to assure him- 
 self of their reality, has endeavoured to put this 
 expedition in a ridiculous light : but as there is not 
 one circumstance in his narration that has truth in it, 
 or even the least appearance of truth, it would be 
 needless to lose time in refuting it." 
 
 The following passage in a letter to Sir Harry 
 Krskine, dated 20th .January, 1750, * shows that he 
 here alludes to Voltaire: "I have been set upon by 
 several to write something, though it were only to be 
 inserted in the Magazines, in opposition to this account 
 which \ oltaire has given of our expedition. Hut my 
 answer still is. that it is not worth while, and that 
 he is so totally mistaken in every circumstance of 
 that atl'air. and indeed of every affair, that I presume 
 nobody will pay attention to him. I hope you are of 
 the same opinion." lint if \ oltaire ever wrote on 
 this subject, it must have been in one of those works 
 of winch he took the liberty of determinedly denying 
 the authorship, for there appears to be nothing bearing 
 on the subject in the usual editions of his published 
 and acknowledged works, and in his Precis du Siecle 
 do Louis X \ .,"' he passes over the expedition with the 
 briefest possible allusion. 
 
 We find Hume, on the return of the expedition, 
 writing the following letter to Henry Home. It con- 
 tains some curious notices of its writer".- views and 
 intentions, and betrays a sort of irresolution as to his 
 subsequent projects, which seems to have haunted him 
 through life. It is here that we find the lirst allusion 
 
 i ] M tlio posMV-itu] ofCoMiio Innes, E-<i.
 
 220 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746. 
 
 to Ills historical studies. The extracts from his notes, 
 or adversaria, printed above, show that he had read 
 much in history, but chiefly in that of the ancient 
 nations. It does not appear that he had yet paid 
 any marked attention to British history. 
 
 Hume to Henry Home. 
 
 " Dear Sir, I am ashamed of being so long in 
 writing to you. If I should plead laziness, you would 
 say I am much altered ; if multiplicity of business, 
 you would scarce believe me ; if forge tfulness of you 
 and our friendship, I should tell a gross untruth, i 
 can therefore plead nothing but idleness, and a gay, 
 pleasurable life, which steals away hour after hour, 
 and day after day, and leaves no time for such occu- 
 pations as one's sober reason may approve most of. 
 This is our case while on shore, and even while on 
 board, as far as one can have much enjoyment in that 
 situation. 
 
 " I wrote my brother from the coast of Britanny ; 
 giving him some account of our expedition, and of the 
 causes of our disappointment. I suppose he received 
 it after you had left the country, but I doubt not he 
 has informed you of it. We were very near a great 
 success, the taking of L'Orient, perhaps Port Louis, 
 which would have been a prodigious blow to Prance; 
 and, having an open communication with the sea, 
 might have made a great diversion of their forces, and 
 done great service to the common cause, i suppose 
 you are become a great general, by the misfortune of 
 the seat of Avar being so long in your neighbourhood. 
 i shall be able when we meet to give you the just 
 cause of our failure. Our expedition to North 
 America is now at an end ; we are recalled to England, 
 Lhe convov is arrived, and we re-embark in a few
 
 i:xii-:iMTi<>.\ to Tin-: coast or tranci:. 
 
 I have an invitation to l.o over to Hand 
 with the Lr'ii*ral, ami an offer ot' tald . tent, hor.-es, 
 .V\ 1 must own I have a L f wat curiosity to we a 
 wal campaign, hut I am deterred hy the v'mw of I 
 e\pcit>e. and am afraid, that 1 1 \ inu r in a camp, w itl 
 any character, and without any thine" to do. woul 1 
 appeal- ridiculous;. Ha<l I any fortune which would 
 me ;: pro-pect of leisure and opportunity to ' ,' - 
 - 'it \\\\ /ti*tur'n'til pmjrrts, nothing couhl he mow 
 useful to me, ami I should pick" up more lit' a ary 
 knowledge in one campaign, hy living in th^ uvue nil's 
 family, and heinuc introduced frequently 1o the duki . 
 than most ollicerrf couhl do after many years' service 
 Imt to what can all this: .serve? I am a philosopher, 
 and so. I suppose. muM cout inue. 
 
 ' I am wry uncertain of L'e'.tinj; half jay. from 
 
 wrul -iranee and unexpected accidents, which i! 
 
 dd I" too teilious to mention : and if 1 iwf it no!. 
 .-' ail i:e;i Imt |> ( > ; eiin t nor loser hv the expedition. I 
 1" lieVe. if | WOllld have Im.WIU the world aeain. ! 
 
 noelit have n turned an ollicer. gratis : and am c .-rtain, 
 mi_dit have hei'ii made chaplain to a reeimenf u'ratis; 
 
 hut 1 need sav no mow. I 
 
 shall stay a little time in London, to see if any tiling 
 new* will present itself. If not, I shall return very 
 
 he.'rfully to hooks, leisure, and solitude, in the 
 
 Vii elegant talde \\[\< not -pidh'd my : 
 
 . !' -oiUiety; UOl'eaietv fol'stud\ '. and i'i 
 
 t W ta WW me th a' I lot hi.;.: : 
 i 'ed ol". a.- well as tii i' not i ine. i-an h ! ] !e j 
 ' . \ > e.i w vouiself \ iolrnt ail s i 1 ' \\ : \ .
 
 222 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746. 
 
 sententid. But you will not say so when you see me 
 again with my Xenophon or Polybius in my hand ; 
 which, however, I shall willingly throw aside to be 
 cheerful with you, as usual. My kind compliments to 
 Mrs. Home, who, I am sorry to hear, has not yet got 
 entirely the better of her illness. I am," &C. 1 
 
 We find Hume corresponding also with Oswald and 
 Colonel Abercromby, as to his claim of half-pay for 
 his services as Judge Advocate in the expedition ; and 
 this subject we find him occasionally resuming down 
 to so late a period as 1763, when he speaks of "in- 
 surmountable difficulties," and fears he must " despair 
 of success." 2 It must be admitted that when he thought 
 fit to make a pecuniary claim he did not easily resign 
 it. His correspondent, Colonel Abercromby of Glas- 
 sauch, lias already been mentioned as having held a 
 command in the expedition. He was afterwards one 
 of Hume's intimate friends. Besides his rank in the 
 army, he held the two discordant offices of king's 
 painter in Scotland, and deputy-governor of Stirling 
 castle. He was elected member of parliament for the 
 shire of Banff in 1735, :i and Hume's letters contain 
 congratulations on his re-election in 1747, along witli 
 some incidents in his own journey towards Scotland. 
 
 " Nincicells. 7th August, 1747. 
 "Dear Col 1 '. I have many subjects to congratulate 
 you upon. The honour you acquired at Sandberg, 
 your safety, and your success in your elections. You 
 are equally eminent in the arts of peace and war. 
 The cabinet is no less a scene of glory to you than 
 the field. You are a hero even in your sports and 
 
 1 Tytler's Life of Karnes, 125. ~ Memorials, &e. ?G. 
 
 3 Beat son. Parliamentary Register.
 
 .la. :;.-,. 
 
 rnLnM'.I, ABKIU "KUMI1Y 
 
 amusement* : and discover a superior genius in whist, 
 as well as in a state intrigue or in a battle. 
 
 " I hope you recover well of your wound, and I be^ 
 of you to inform me. I should he ulad to know what 
 became of Forster. and whether Hob llorneejot the 
 muj'ority. I write to yon upon the supposition of 
 your bciuix at Loudon: because I >r. Clephnne wrote 
 me some time ;i'4'o, that you was just set-mie,' out tor 
 it. If that be the cast' please' make my most humble 
 compliments to .Mrs. Abercromby. 
 
 ' I i' the Colonel be still detained abroad by any acci- 
 dent, I must ben - it of you. Mrs. Abercromby, to take 
 these compliments to yourself, and to keep this letter 
 till the Colonel comes over, for it is not worth while to 
 pay po>tau'e for it. I suppose, madam, that Lady 
 Abererombv informed you of our happY voyage to- 
 Le'li'T. and safe arrival in Newcastle; your youne; 
 e ei-iii was a little noi-y and obstreperous : our ship 
 was dirty; our accommodation bad: our company 
 siek. I In re were four spies, two ii dormers, and three 
 evidence-:, wiio sailed in the same -hip witli us. Yet 
 not w it h>!andiiii:' all these circumstances, we were verv 
 well pleased with our voyage, chiefly on account id' its 
 ,-liort lies-, which indeed is almost the onlv agreeable 
 circumstance that can be in ;i voyage. I am. cVc." 
 
 " To the royal in I Screen- op-zoom ' ' I lave the v lost 
 any officers '. I hope ( iuidelianus " is sate' I hope 
 I'rasi'r is converted [ 
 
 In his correspondence with Oswald on the same 
 matter of his half-pay, his remarks on public affairs 
 are very desponding, lie saw-.-- 
 
 !1 all'!-!"! 
 
 , t-. the li..v:i 
 
 ' 
 
 li;nl Ih'cii taken l>v -en an <ai I ctli >]' . 
 
 ; ' This naiiio pi-nl >:ilil v 1 : 1 1 i 1 1 i ~ 1 (\ \ ke know:; 
 
 ' i | art;.-, aj.plio- tu < ' 1. VAv.i . ', .:.: "f NVa to:;.
 
 22 i THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740. 
 
 " I know not whether I ought to congratulate you 
 upon the success of your election, 1 where you prevailed 
 so unexpectedly. I think the present times are so cala- 
 mitous, and our future prospect so dismal, that it is a 
 misfortune to have any concern in public affairs, which 
 one cannot redress, and where it is difficult to arrive 
 at a proper degree of insensibility or philosophy, as 
 long as one is in the scene. You know my sentiments 
 were always a little gloomy on that head ; and I am 
 sorry to observe, that all accidents (besides the natural 
 course of events) turn out against us. What a sur- 
 prising misfortune is this Bergen-op-zoom, which is 
 almost unparalleled in modern history ! I hear the 
 Dutch troops, besides their common cowardice, and 
 ill-discipline, are seized with an universal panic. This 
 winter may perhaps decide the fate of Holland, and 
 then where are we ? I shall not be much disappointed 
 if this prove the last parliament, worthy the name, 
 we shall ever have in Britain. I cannot therefore con- 
 gratulate you upon your having a seat in it : I can 
 only congratulate you upon the universal joy and 
 satisfaction it gave to every body." 2 
 
 1 For Fifesbire. 2 Memorials, &c. p. .04.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 :\s. a 
 
 
 ::..- ::'::. to N iR-well- HI- dome-tie I'o-ition 1 1 i -= att>>! 
 I' :} \i\>[\i\r\ ;i to hi- Sentimentalism - Takes an intere-t in 1'oliti 
 
 I > ri-tary to Oeueral St. Clair on hi- mi--ion to Turin - IIh 
 . lit" hi-* Tour- Arrival in llollaiul Rotterdam -The Hague 
 lip'ila Tin' War French Soldiers Ximeguen - -Cologne lionn 
 Th.' Khine and it- -eenery Coblent/ Wie-haden rraukf'urt - Battle 
 of Dettingen Wur/.burg Rati.-bon De-eent of the Danube Oh-erva- 
 tiuiH on (iermany- Vienna The Kmperor and Kmnrcss l^ueen Styria 
 i iriuthia The Tviol Mantua Cremona Turin. 
 
 \\'i: now find Hume restored, though hut for a lirief 
 period, to tin' traiKjuil retirement of Ninewells; and 
 im li-t ui'l mm I liv public events, civil or warlike, sitting 
 down <|iiii'tly anions Ids liooks in the nddst of Ids 
 faudly circle, consist iii'_j of Ids inother. his elder 
 Krotlier, and Ids si-ter. It would l>e interesting to 
 ohtain ;i glimpse of this circle and its haldts; hut the 
 lapse of nearly a century has thrown it too tar into 
 the -hade of time, to permit of these minute ohjects, 
 1 - - i 1 1 u" distinguished. Perhaps the following sera]) 
 from the papers preserved hy 1 1 nine himself, 1 may 
 represent the evening diversions of Ninewells. It is 
 written hy another hand, hut is touched and corrected 
 here and there hy Hume. Whether or not it is in- 
 tended to have any reference to himself, is a matter 
 on which I .-hall not attempt to forestall the reader's 
 judgment. 
 
 .Ms. H.s.K. 
 
 VnL. l
 
 226 TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1746-1747. 
 
 Character of , written by himself. 
 
 1. A very good man, the constant purpose of whose 
 life is to do mischief. 
 
 2. Fancies he is disinterested, because he substi- 
 tutes vanity in place of all other passions. 
 
 3. Very industrious, without serving either himself 
 or others. 
 
 4. Licentious in his pen, cautious in his words, still 
 more so in his actions. 
 
 5. Would have had no enemies, had he not courted 
 them ; seems desirous of being hated by the public, 
 but has only attained the being railed at. 
 
 C). Has never been hurt by his enemies, because he 
 never hated any one of them. 
 
 7. Exempt from vulgar prejudices full of his own. 
 
 8. Very bashful, somewhat modest, no way humble. 
 
 9. A fool, capable of performances which few wise 
 men can execute. 
 
 10. A wise man, guilty of indiscretions which the 
 greatest simpletons can perceive. 
 
 11. Sociable, though he lives in solitude. 
 12. 1 
 
 13. An enthusiast, without religion ; a philosopher, 
 who despairs to attain truth. 
 
 A moralist, who prefers instinct to reason. 
 
 A gallant, who gives no offence to husbands and 
 mothers. 
 
 A scholar, without the ostentation of learning. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott says : " We visited Corby castle 
 on our return to Scotland, which remains, in point of 
 situation, as beautiful as when its walks were cele- 
 brated by David Hume, in the only rhymes he was 
 1 Obliterated.
 
 ,-lvr. !\.~,-M. HIS POKTK'AL attk.mpts. 
 
 O07 
 
 ever known to he guilty of. Here they nre from [i 
 pane of i^lass in an inn at Carlisle, 
 
 lit re chicks in e_'_r- f.r l>ri:ik f:i~t -]>r:i\\l, 
 
 [ i< io -n.u,.- I...V- <;...i'- _-!..!;.- -I'luii, 
 
 I [en- Se.itchlilrn'- heail- <l< _eia:'.l the wall. 
 Put (\.rlyV walk- at. me I'm' all." ' 
 
 I n the face. Iiotli of this assurance of the limits! ex- 
 tent of 1 I nine's ]>oetical efforts, and of the circumstance 
 that he was occasionally in the practice of copying 
 such verses as pleased his oar," or fancy. I venture to 
 oiler the following s]>eciuiens of his versilication, 
 admitting the possihility hut not the ju'ohahility that 
 some minute investigator min'ht he aide to identity 
 them as the production of a less distinguished hard. 
 The censorious critic will prohahly admit their 
 evnuineness, on the plea that no one hut their author 
 would commit such verses, to writing. Iut apart 
 from tlcir internal evidence, there is every reason to 
 presume that these ell'orts are hy Hume. The first 
 piece is dated iii the writer'.- hand, as if to mark the 
 dav when it was composed. With 1 1 xcentmn of 
 
 Letter t -. Air. Mi.nilt. .lat-.l AM..-! I'-.r-l. iM ><" ' , . ;-l ".. 
 
 l...ckli:inV Life. The letter r.-rrin : WmiM i- ., i he : , - ...1 
 
 ,,;/ t.. a.lv.Tti-.' '/'/ /' :-.,' ]]'./..< /' /> I //'////., ill : 
 i -fit iral. hi-turical. ainl ,-n d >rt li. with a 1 1 i ~t ii<-;i 1 ui'| : iirv in!" the , " 
 i'l" i'_ r _ r - fur lnvakfa-t ; a phv-ieal >li en--i.n mi the cau-e- "f tin ir 
 lieiu_' :i- 1. 1 ] 1 ; a lii-t >i'V of the Pn_Teh Church mil i<\ :n 1 !' 
 tin' i-hi.ir iif < 'arli-le in particular ; ;i Iii nit ..f l! e atl'aii' ! 
 
 I 7 d. w ith the trial-, la-t .-] 'he-. :m<l -> l'urth, "f t' 
 
 \vhn w eiv -tia]i]"il ii] i at ( 'arli-le ; :m I la-t I v. a I':; ! .. : I i 
 
 il<-eri ] itii in nf ( "nrhv. with the LTeiiraluu'V "f '\ rrv f.ii r 
 
 j ,, ., , ., 1 it ' | think, >'\i'ii witlmut lie Ti- than I " "I 
 
 HKir_"iii. the |ii'in- n| l>a\i'l \v < mli 1 niaki' ' ' ' ' 
 
 touch." 
 
 " |-'ur iii-tance. there \< |nv-er\ eil in !. 1 e lw l ! : a \ 
 tran-cript el' the sweet ami -ail "<.! (> helitV-Temv." hv Mn. 
 ( ireville. ci'i'ii.'il. iiiehahlv at a time \\ l.e!i in- : .. t
 
 228 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. J 746-1747. 
 
 the third in order, they all contain, in corrections 
 and otherwise, decided marks of being composed by 
 the person in whose handwriting they are ; and they 
 are in the handwriting of David Hume. 1 
 
 plaintive imagination was attuned to his own feelings, and called up 
 in Lira a response to the complaint. 
 
 Nor ease nor peace that heart can know, 
 
 That, like the needle true, 
 Turns at the touch of joy or wo, 
 
 But turning trembles too. 
 
 And a desire to join in that prayer that the senses may be steeped 
 in indifference, in which the poet says. 
 
 The tears which pity taught to flow, 
 
 My eyes shall then disown, 
 The heart, that throbb'd at others' wo. 
 
 Shall then scarce feel its own. 
 
 The wounds that now each moment bleed, 
 
 Each moment then shall close, 
 And tranquil days shall still succeed, 
 
 To nights of soft repose. 
 
 Oli fairy elf, but grant me tins 
 
 This one kind comfort send ; 
 And so may never-fading bliss 
 
 Thy flowery paths attend. 
 
 So may the glow-worm's glimmering light 
 
 Thy fairy footsteps lead 
 To some new region of delight. 
 
 Unknown to mortal tread. 
 
 And be thy acorn goblet fill'd 
 
 With heaven's ambrosial dew , 
 Sweetest, freshest flowers distill'd, 
 
 That shed fresh sweets for you. 
 
 And what of life remains for me, 
 
 I'll pass in sober ease - 
 Half-pleased, contented will 1 be. 
 Content but half to please- 
 
 1 MSS. R.S.E. The third piece appears to be in Hume's hand; 
 but it is written with so much schoolboy stiffness, that one cannot 
 feel sure of its being so : perhaps it may be a product ion of very 
 early life.
 
 --Et. Ho-30. HIS POETICAL ATTEMPTS. 22!) 
 
 \>h X-r. 1717 
 
 ' i.., plaintive Miiui'l-. aii'l l-i tin- fair 
 
 M v M'cn-t v\ < iiin-I - i:n|>;i 
 T.'Il all 1 I.-Jm-. fi! all I !!!'. 
 
 1 .:icli Hi' >l :i in in iii v 1, ' 
 
 Hut !,'. inn Link-, i- l;-i'':un_ r imv," 
 
 In -.iii.i' amn 
 ! I'' - 1 1 1 : 1 that tri mij'li nVr her Krow , 
 >.'i'in put tnl -I n iv pain. 
 
 Vet. |-lainti\ i- -mil >1 \ i * \vt ill-lay, 
 
 I IiiW I'll' Ml V I'i\ 'c l'i'jiilli'. 
 Let I hi j;iv lllillllli' pa ;nv;u', 
 1 In' next, j H rl i;n >-. l- mine. 
 
 ^ e-. plaint i\ i' -nui.i-. li. i |ni!_i : i . 
 V 
 
 II. : . ;:, liu.] , 
 
 Tin' . !- it ri Iv v. .I'.'. 
 
 ^ i'-, |.]'i:i,! 1\ .-;:; .1 -. ! . i!.,\', i- villi'., 
 
 I i,..u \'..:;i' i i\ , : 
 
 I . r 
 
 An i I.. ,i 
 
 < '.! j'l'ii::; : \ i . 
 
 'I ri . ti'ii. l.'i- air 
 
 1 'l'i ivr- inT 1 i . r li.'.il! tin' .'..||.|Hr V mi, 
 I -.'.' \'n!l llli'll ill:;' 1 llrlV. 
 
 Ii'rt urn, vi' mill . r. t inn a _:i in. 
 
 I' i . I.a.'l. . 
 I _\ : I I 1 1 ] i 1 . . \ i . i _ i : 
 
 'l'i. it .. i-l i :;<] ai 
 
 ta I.'' i: i! w a I'll -! >\\ an 
 
 I >'..' . . u !.!].' vmi will 
 
 
 1 1' this jiii'ci' l.c .I. licii nt in (li. i . ] nli.-li, it ha.- at 
 least the moat of .-mi] licit a . :m <! !' ml hcinv; a sla\ i.-h
 
 230 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746-1747. 
 
 adaptation to the formal taste of the age. The fol- 
 lowing pieces will scarcely perhaps be thought worthy 
 of the like qualified praise. 
 
 Tell me, Clarinda, why this scorn. 
 
 Why hatred give for love ? 
 Why for a gentler purpose born, 
 
 Wouldst thou a tyrant prove ? 
 
 Why draw a cloud upon that face, 
 
 Made to enslave mankind ? 
 Why through your lips does thunder pa&s. 
 
 Those lips for love design'd. 
 
 Kindness, conjoin d with meaner charm.?. 
 
 Will from you conquests gain ; 
 We lly into extended arms, 
 
 In close-end raced remain. 
 
 Thus when the angry heavens transform 
 
 To frowns their cheerful smiles, 
 When the dread thunder's voice a storm 
 
 To trembling swains foretells, 
 
 ff but a humble cottage nigh 
 
 Presents its peaceful shade, 
 We scorn the furies of the sky. 
 
 And court its friendly aid. 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 Sutpectuig that the friendship of men to her sex always concealed a 
 more dangerous passion. 
 
 Hang, my lyre, upon the willow, 
 
 Sigh to winds thy notes forlorn, 
 Or along the foaming billow, 
 
 Float the wrecking tempest's scorn. 
 
 Airs no more thy warbling raises, 
 
 Such as Laura deigns approve; 
 Laura scorns her poet's praise.-, 
 
 Artless friendship calls it love.
 
 .Kr. 3.i-M. 1I1S POKTICAL ATTEMPTS. 
 
 Iiuj)ioiiN [um\ that-, - J uvnui^r duty, 
 S]>uniiiiL, r nature'- cha.-te-t tic-, 
 
 Moek.- thv tear-. Rejectee! heautv. 
 Spurts with fallen virtue'- -i_'h-. 
 
 < all it ln\ e no more, profanim; 
 
 1 ru t li with dark >usjiiei<>n's woinnl , 
 ' )r, it -till the term retaining, 
 
 < 'haner th' 1 -ciix. 1 , preserve the snim>L 
 
 ^ e>, 'ti.- love, that naino is irivon, 
 An.'i'l.-, to your pure.-t ilaine- ; 
 
 Such ;i love as merit- Heaven, 
 J leaven'- divine.-t imaire elaini-. 
 
 LAUKA'S ANSWER. 
 
 Sunn 1m 1 thv lvrv to wine!- eon.-i^uM. 
 
 < >r 1mmT<1 hciieath the niLrinir <1<-'|> , 
 Vny while -u'-h -train- -e.luce inv ltiiinl, 
 
 I low -hall in v ln'art it- purpu . kce|>. 
 
 '1 li v urtle-- lav-, which artlc-- .-cent, 
 A\ ith too iiiiicli fui.liie-- I approve ; 
 
 < >h w rite n > more in -uch a theme. 
 
 < >r I .aura'- frii'ii'l-liip cn.l- in h ,\ e. 
 
 23! 
 
 The question, whether the man concerninu' whom 
 n biographical work is written was ever in love, is an 
 important feature in his history, it' any liu'ht can ho 
 thrown upon it. Perhaps some readers will hold, that 
 the tamenos of these verses show that, at all events, 
 when lie wrote tin m, Ilunie was under the impulse of 
 no passion. \ cry little more liulit can he brought to 
 hear on this subject : and what can be obtained, is of a 
 like faint and negative cast. lie tell- us in his '"own 
 life." ' As 1 took a particular pleasure in the company 
 of modest women. I had no reason to be displeased 
 with the reception 1 met with from them." In his 
 essays he frequently discusses the passion of love,
 
 232 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746-1477. 
 
 dividing it into its elements about as systematically 
 as if he had subjected it to a chemical analysis, and 
 laying down rules regarding it as distinctly and speci- 
 fically as if it were a system of logic. Nor do the 
 references in his correspondence to any individuals of 
 the other sex, show any perceptible warmth of senti- 
 ment. In a letter to Henry Home, of which the 
 other portions are printed above, 1 he speaks with 
 perhaps as much appearance of sentiment as any 
 where else, when he says, 
 
 " I thank Mrs. Home for her intelligence, and have 
 much employed my brain to find out the person she 
 means. It could not be the widow: for she toasts 
 always the Duke of Argyle or Lord Stair, and never 
 would name a young man whom she may reasonably 
 enough suppose to be in love with her. I shall there- 
 fore flatter myself it was Miss Dalrymple. It is now 
 Exchequer term : she is among the few very fine ladies 
 of Mrs. Home's acquaintance, whom I have the happi- 
 ness of knowing. In short, many circumstances, be- 
 sides my earnest wishes, concur to make me believe it 
 was she who did me that honour. I will persevere 
 in that opinion ; unless you think it proper to dis- 
 abuse me, for fear of my being too much puft up with 
 vanity by such a conceit." 
 
 His friend Jardine, writing to him when he was 
 secretary of legation in France, says, evidently in ironi- 
 cal reference to his notorious want of sensibility in 
 this respect, " An inordinate love of the fair sex, as 
 1 have often told you, is one of those sins, that always, 
 even from your earliest years, did most easily beset 
 you." 
 
 Nor does the following passage in a letter from 
 
 1 Sec p. 141.
 
 ,Et. 35-36. HIS POETICAL ATTEMPTS. 233 
 
 Mr. Crawford,' dated, London, Oth December, 17(><>, 
 seem to convey any more serious charge: 
 
 " What keeps yon in Scotland ' Lord < >ssory says, 
 it can he nothing hut the youno; beauty for whom yon 
 had formerly some passion. Hut we are both of 
 opinion, that .-lie must now be old and iiidy. and can- 
 not be worthy to detain yon in ,-o vile a country. 
 \"ither love nor wit can flourish there, otherwise you 
 would not have cracked such bad jokes upon philoso- 
 phers, the best subject in the world for joking upon. 
 Then. 
 
 fair uiitf I>'-.i ?i. f'tl'i txjiii a' .->,//.. t.rru. 
 
 Come up here, and I know not but what I may be 
 able to introduce you to a youne; beauty, such as your 
 imagination never (inured to itself. \\ it 1 1 cliarms 
 and acroinjdi.-hnieiits possessed by no other woman, 
 she ha- an under.-'andinif eipial to that of Madame 
 dm I )c!i'and. - - Would to Cod she were Mind like 
 her too, that I i i i i l: 1 1 1 dare to avow my pa.-.-ion for 
 Ii-r." 
 
 It' there bf any thine j M these passages tending to 
 -how a slight derive of interest in the se\. their ten- 
 dency will perhaps l>e fully neutralized b\ 1 1 nine's exul- 
 tation on the fortunate naturt.' of his own happy indiffe- 
 rence, in a letter to < 'swald. which will be found a few 
 pane- farther on. It mu-t lie confessed, inde, d. that, 
 according to all appearance, the appellation, mere 
 expressive than classical, freipiently u-< d on -uch orca- 
 
 - ;: pplicable to M lime, ;iml t hat he w ;i- a " -ad 
 ill do-." 
 
 To r.'turn to the wr-es. The fulhiwin- i- a - 
 men of a totally different cast: and. if' h .-- an. bit ii 
 in its pretensions, it will probably !> 1 1 1 < u u L t to havi 
 
 M: 
 
 \-'-\>:\ v ','.. 
 
 .1 , i An.'l,
 
 234 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1746-1747. 
 
 more successfully accomplished what it aims at. It 
 is called " An Epistle to Mr. John Medina," a son of 
 Sir John Medina, the celebrated painter, to whom, pro- 
 bably from the habits hinted at in the verses, he was 
 a far inferior artist. He is believed to have been the 
 painter of a large portion of the very numerous ex- 
 tant portraits of Queen Mary. It would be difficult 
 at this day to discover the individual whom he is here 
 called upon to portray, with attributes about as gro- 
 tesque as those of his inexplicable countryman, Aiken 
 Drum. As several names of persons who were active 
 supporters of the measures of social economy, and the 
 agricultural improvements alluded to in the verses, 
 might be adduced, but no one can be named to whom 
 they appear distinctly and exclusively to apply, it may 
 be less invidious to present them in the form of a purely 
 imaginative picture, than to associate them with any 
 name. 
 
 AN EPISTLE TO ME. JOHN MEDINA. 
 
 Now, dear Medina, honest John, 
 Since all your former friends are gone, 
 And even Macgibbon 's tum'd a saint, 1 
 Yon now perhaps have time to paint. 
 For you, and for your pencil fit, 
 The subject shall be full of wit. 
 
 Draw me a little lively knight, 
 Ami place the figure full in sight. 
 With mien erect, and sprightly air, 
 To win the great, and catch the fair. 
 Make him a wreath of turnip tops, 
 "With madder interwove, and hops ; 
 Lucerne, and St. Foin, here and there, 
 Amid the foliage must appear; 
 Then add potatoes, white and red, 
 A garland for our hero's head. 
 
 1 Macgibbon was the name of a dissipated musical composer,
 
 /Er. 3..-3C. HIS POETICAL ATTEMPTS. 2oj 
 
 Hi.- coat be of elect ii hi law*, 
 Lined with the patriot's _-< < >i 1 old cau>e. 
 His wai-tcoat of the linen lull, 
 Impelled with tlint an.l lined with tull. 
 The turnpike act mu.-t serve for breeches . 
 "^^" 1 1 1 1 h<i<e of rajte tied up with fetches, 
 luirniws, new hor.-e-hoed, hid.' his .shoe?, 
 A- earne-t cro.-s the fields he goes. 
 
 I >raw Palla- nth-ring liim a spnnl, 
 
 I In' Lemnian L r ><l a miner's tool. 
 < '.Ti'< three stalks nf blighted corn, 
 DaiiL'liiiLT from an inverted horn ; 
 And Plutus every scheme inspiring 
 'With prutl'er'd gold, but .-till retiring . 
 A like to each important call, 
 Attent'n e. let him irra-p at all. 
 
 I itn-h, my friend, this irrand de-ign, 
 And imuiortalit v be thine. 
 No more obliged, for twenty L't'oats 
 To draw the Duke, < , r Queen of Scots, 
 1 I. ir name -ha! 1 ri-e. prophetic fame -a\ . 
 Ab"\e viiir M< !'!: ' or your Kam-av-. 
 I'.\ en I . ,:: I ; rarv -torv, 
 I'erha] -hall h.i\ e mv -hare i.f _'!nrv. 
 
 1 1 ii ni wii.s again called away from the studious re- 
 tirement of Ninowells, l>y 1 *ci n lT appointed secretary 
 to tli* 1 mi.-v-iun of liis friend (lenenil St. Clair, to the 
 court of Turin. The real object of the mis-ion, in 
 whatever aspect it might have been openly represented, 
 certainly "was to satisfy the I British court on the ipies- 
 tiou. whctlier Sardinia, and perhaps some of the other 
 stipendiary states, had furnished their respective quotas 
 of men to the war. The following' letter by Hume 
 to hi- friend < >>wald, details many of his feelings on 
 assuming this new duty. It will be found to be as 
 different in tone from his previous letters, as the life 
 lie was entering on was different from his hermit 
 
 Probably Philip Men 
 
 : rail i nnt'-r. u h>i died 1 ?b'0.
 
 236 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 retirement at Ninewells, or his slavery at Weldhall. 
 This letter, indeed, appears to mark an epoch in his 
 correspondence. It is the first in which he mentions 
 miscellaneous public events, with the feeling of one 
 who takes an interest in the living politics of his time; 
 and shows that the brief episode of active practical 
 life, in which he had just borne a share, and the 
 prospect of a renewal of such scenes, had opened his 
 mind to the reception of external impressions. 
 
 Hume to James Oswald. 
 
 " I have little more to say to you than to bid you 
 adieu before I leave this country. I got an invitation 
 from General St. Clair, to attend him in his new 
 employment at the court of Turin, which I hope will 
 prove an agreeable, if not a profitable jaunt for me. 
 I shall have an opportunity of seeing courts and 
 camps ; and if I can afterwards be so happy as to 
 attain leisure and other opportunities, this knowledge 
 may even turn to account to me, as a man of letters, 
 which, I confess, has always been the sole object of 
 my ambition. J have long had an intention, in my 
 riper years, of composing some history ; and 1 question 
 not but some greater experience in the operations of 
 the field, and the intrigues of the cabinet, will be 
 requisite, in order to enable me to speak with judg- 
 ment upon these subjects. But, notwithstanding of 
 tlie.se flattering ideas of futurity, as well as the present 
 charms of variety, I must confess that 1 left home 
 with infinite regret, where I had treasured up stores 
 of stud}- and plans of thinking for many years. I am 
 sure 1 shall not be so happy as .1 should have been 
 had I prosecuted these. But, in certain situations, a 
 man dares not follow his own judgment or refuse such 
 oilers as these.
 
 MISSION T<> 1 THIN. 
 
 'Tin 1 suhscriptions for tin 1 stocks \wiv tilled up with 
 wonderful ipiicknt's.s this veur ; hut, as tin- ministry 
 h:i'I made no private har-iiin- with stock-johhers. hut 
 opened hook- for every 1 . < 1 \ . tlle-e iiiullry-.h ah'i'S 
 have eloped the wheels a little, and the suh-criher.s 
 find themselves lowers on the disposal of their stork, 
 t<> their -reat surprise. 
 
 ' There was a controverted election, that has made 
 some nuisf. Iietuivt .John I'itt and Mr. Dra\ of the 
 Prince's family, when Mr. I'elham. finding him-' If 
 under a necessity of disolili^ine,' the heir-apparent. 
 resolved to have others as deep in the scrape as 
 himself: and accordingly oUiu'od Vox. I'itt. Lyttelton, 
 and Hume Camphell. all to speak on the -nine side. 
 They >:iv their speeches wore vorv divert inn'. An uss 
 could not niumhle u thistle more ridieulou-ly than 
 the\ handled this suhjert. I 'art ieularh our coimtrv- 
 nian. not heinu' pr< 'pared, was not aide , i -peak :i 
 
 Wold to the SUhject. hilt Spe||1 half ; ! ii hour in pl'o- 
 
 ' -tatioii- of his own integrity, disinterestedness nnd 
 regard to e\ ery man - r'uht nnd pi'o] rf v. 
 
 Hi- hrother. Lord Marchnioiit. h"- l i;l .l the mo-t 
 extraordinary adventure in the world. Ahoiit three 
 weeks nu'o he was at the plav. where h rpii d in 
 one of the ln>\es a fair virgin, whose look-. ;iir. and 
 mainmr. made -ueh a powerful and wonderful elhv! 
 upon him as was vi.-ihle to every hv-tander. Hi- 
 raptures Were -o Undisguised, hi- look- so i \JM , e--i\e 
 
 of pa--ion. his i nt |ui in -s -o earnest, tha' e\<ay hody 
 t ook iii 'tiee of it. II e -eon w ::- told 1 l.:i' h' i' name 
 was ( 'ronijdoii, a linen-draper's daughter. ' ! 
 heen hankrupt last year, and had mu ivn ah]e to 
 pay ahove tive shilling- in tin: pound. I he fuir 
 nyinjih herself was ahout -i\teen or seventeen, and 
 lieine; supported hy seme relations, appeared in every
 
 238 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 public place, and had fatigued every eye but that of 
 his Lordship, which, being entirely employed in the 
 severer studies, had never till that fatal moment 
 opened upon her charms. Such and so powerful was 
 their effect, as to be able to justify all the Pharamonds 
 and Cyruses in their utmost extravagancies. He 
 wrote next morning to her father, desiring leave to 
 visit his daughter on honourable terms ; and in a few 
 days she will be Countess of Marchmont. 1 All this 
 is certainly true. They say many small fevers prevent 
 a great one. Heaven be praised that I have always 
 liked the persons and company of the fair sex ! for 
 by that means I hope to escape such ridiculous 
 passions. But could you ever suspect the ambi- 
 tious, the severe, the bustling, the impetuous, the 
 violent Marchmont, of becoming so tender and gentle 
 a swain an Artamenes, an Oroondates ? 
 
 "The officers, (I suppose from effeminacy,) are gene- 
 rally much disgusted at the service. They speak of 
 no less than three hundred, high and low, who have 
 desired leave to sell out. I am," &c. 2 
 
 " London, January 29, 1748." 
 
 On the same occasion lie writes the following short 
 letter to Henry Home. 
 
 " London, Feb. 9. 1748. 
 
 " Dear Sir, The doubt and ambiguity with which 
 I came hither was soon removed. General St. Clair 
 positively refused to accept of a secretary from the 
 
 1 The marriage took place accordingly on the day following the 
 date of the letter, viz. 30th January. She was the second wife of 
 Lord Marchmont; his first countess, whose name was Western, 
 having died on 0th May of the previous year. 
 
 Memorials of the Right Hon. James Oswald, p. .09.
 
 .V.i. :;.;-:;;. 
 
 MISSION TO TI'RIN. 
 
 239 
 
 ministry; :m<l I go along with him in the same .station 
 as before, livery body congratulates me upon the 
 pleasure I am to reap from this jaunt : and really I 
 have little to oppose to this prepossession, except an 
 inward reluctance to have my books, and leisure and 
 retreat. However. I am glad to rind this passion 
 still so fresh and entire: and am sure, by its means, 
 to pass my latter days happily and cheerfully, whatever 
 fortune may attend me. 
 
 " I leave here two works going on : a new edition of 
 my Pssays, all of which you have seen, except one, 
 'Of the Protestant Succession.' where I treat that 
 subject as coolly and indifferently as I would the 
 dispute between Cavsar and Pompoy. The conclusion 
 shows me a \\ h'm. but a very sceptical one. Some 
 people would frighten me with the consequences that 
 may attend this candour, considering my present 
 station; but 1 own I cannot apprehend any thine;. 
 
 "The other work is the 'Philosophical Pssavs,' 
 which ymi dissuaded me from printing. I won't 
 justify the prudence of this step. ;my other way than 
 by expressing my indilfereiiee about all the coiise- 
 ipiences that may follow. I will expect to hear from 
 you; as you may from me. Iveniember me to Mrs. 
 Home, and believe me to be vours most sinceridv. 
 
 '* P.S. We set out on Priday next for Harwich." 1 
 
 < >f his second appointment under ( I en era 1 St. Clair. 
 on the duties of which he entered at the be-imiiim of 
 the year I 7 IS. Hume thus Speaks in his own life." 
 after having mentioned the descent on the coast of 
 Prance, 
 
 "' Next year, to wit, 17 17. I received an invitation 
 
 vth'i' I. it.- "I Kaiii.--. i
 
 240 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 from the General to attend him in the same station in 
 his military embassy to the courts of Vienna and 
 Turin. I then wore the uniform of an officer, and 
 was introduced at these courts as aid-de-camp to the 
 General, along with Sir Harry Erskine and Captain 
 Grant, now General Grant. These two years were 
 almost the only interruptions which my studies have 
 received during the course of my life. I passed 
 them agreeably, and in good company ; and my 
 appointments, with my frugality, had made me reach 
 a fortune, which I called independent, though most of 
 my friends were inclined to smile when I said so : in 
 short, I was now master of near a thousand pounds." 
 
 We fortunately possess a more detailed account of 
 his adventures and observations on this occasion, in 
 a pretty minute journal which he transmitted to his 
 brother, for the amusement of his family at home. 1 
 It requires no farther introduction, and is as 
 follows : 
 
 "Hague, 3d Marc/,, 1748, N. 8. 
 
 " Dear Brother, I have taken a fancy, for your 
 amusement, to write a sort of journal of our travels, 
 and to send you the whole from Turin, by a messenger 
 whom we arc to despatch from thence. I shall en- 
 deavour to rind little snatches of leisure in the several 
 towns through which we shall pass, and shall give 
 you an account of the appearances of things, more 
 than of our own adventures. The former may be 
 some entertainment, but the other will in all proba- 
 bility contain little diversity, at least for some time. 
 
 " We set out from Harwich the day I wrote you 
 
 1 MS. R.S.E.
 
 .Ei. ;:. 
 
 JOURNAL. HAG UK. 
 
 211 
 
 last, and in twenty-four hours arrived at Helvoet-Sluys. 
 I had tin' misfortune to be excessively sick, but the 
 consolation to see an admiral as sick as myself. 
 Twas Admiral Forbes, the most agreeable, sensible 
 sea officer in Hngland. Harwich and Ilclvoet arc tlie 
 general images in abridgment of all the towns in the 
 two countries; both of them small sea-port towns, 
 without much trade, or any support but passengers; 
 yet the industry, economy, and cleanliness of the 
 Dutch, have made the latter the much prettier town. 
 The day of our arrival we lay at Rotterdam, and 
 passed through the Brill and Mueslan-Sluys. Yester- 
 day we lay at this place. Holland has the beauties of 
 novelty to a stranger, as being so much different from 
 all the other parts of the world ; but not those of 
 diversity, for every part of it is like another. 'Tis 
 an unbounded plain, divided by canals, and ditches. 
 and rivers. The sea higher than the country, the 
 town- higher than the sea, and the ramparts higher 
 than the towns. The country is in general pretty 
 open, except a few willow trees, and the avenues of 
 elm. which lead to their towns, and shade the ram- 
 parts. I Jut the country is at. present covered with 
 .-now. so that it is difficult to judge of it. Were the 
 season favourable, the way of travelling would be very 
 pleasant, being along the dykes, which gives you a per- 
 fect prospect of the whole country. I need not describe 
 the beauty and elegance of the Hutch town-, parti- 
 cularly of the Hague, which nothing can exceed. 
 Rotterdam is also a handsome town. The mixture of 
 houses, trees, and ships, has a tine effect, and unite- 
 town, country, and sea, in one prospect. L\ery 
 person and every house has the appearance of plenty 
 and sobrietv, of' industrv and ease. I own. however, 
 that the outside of their houses are the best : they are 
 vol. I. u
 
 242 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 too slight, full of bad windows, and not very well 
 contrived." 
 
 " Hague, 10th March. 
 
 " The General intended to have left this place to-day, 
 but w T as detained by the arrival of his Royal Highness, 1 
 which will retard him a day or two longer. We go 
 first to Breda, where the General's two battalions lie, 
 out of which lie will endeavour to form one good 
 healthy battalion to remain here. The other returns 
 to Scotland. We go in a day or two. The Prince 
 of Orange's authority seems firmly established, and 
 for the present is as absolute as that of any king in 
 Europe ; the favour of the people is the foundation of 
 it. 2 lie is certainly a man of great humanity and 
 moderation, but his courage and capacity is perhaps 
 a little more doubtful. The present emergencies have 
 given him an opportunity of establishing his authority 
 on a firmer bottom than popular favour ; viz. on 
 foreign and mercenary forces. The Dutch troops 
 have behaved so ill, that the people themselves are 
 willing to see them disgraced, and discredited, and 
 broke ; so that the prince has been able to make 
 great distinctions in favour of foreigners, with the 
 good will of the people, who see the necessity of it. 
 
 " lie has broke all the Dutch troops that were 
 prisoners in France, but keeps up the foreigners that 
 were in the same condition ; and the latter are chiefly 
 encouraged in every thing. Great and universal joy 
 appeared on the birth of the young prince while w T e 
 were there, though all the arrangements were taken 
 
 1 The Duke of Cumberland. 
 
 * The revolution by which the Stadtholdership was re-established 
 in the Prince of Orange, had taken place during the previous year.
 
 A'.r. :;; 
 
 .JOURNAL. IIACl!:. 
 
 21 a 
 
 to have the youn^ princess succeed, ami particularly, 
 she was named colonel of a regiment of guards. 
 
 ' This is a place of little or no amusement, nor Las 
 the court made much dilference in this respect. No 
 halls, no comedy, no opera. The prince' Liives i^reat 
 application to business, which, however, they pretend 
 does not advance very much, lint this we may venture 
 to -ay, that Holland was undoubtedly ruined by its 
 libertw and has now a chance of beinu" .saved by its 
 prince. Let republicans make the best of this example 
 they can. 
 
 "Tis here regarded as a point indisputable, that 
 tin? old u'overnors were in concert with the French, 
 and were re-olved. by delivering up town after town, 
 and army after army, to have peace, though at the 
 price of .slavery and dependence. "Tis a pity that the 
 scrupulou- and conscientious character of the prince 
 ha- not allowed him to make some examples of these 
 ra-eals. against whom, 'tis said, there could have be, n 
 l"^al proof-. It wa- not the mob. properlv speak in:; - , 
 that made the n volution, but the middling and sub- 
 stantial trade-im-n. At Rotterdam partieuhniv. t hese 
 sent a regular deputation to tin' maei-ti'a'i'-. reijiiir; 
 the e.-tabli>hinent of the Frinee of < 'ran-e, telling 
 them, at the same time, that if their reopie-f was 
 refused, they could no longer answer for the mob. 
 This hint was .-utlieiently understood, and i^avo an 
 example to all the other towns in the provinc". 
 
 '"The only violence otl'ered. was that of throw in.;- 
 into the canals whoever wort 1 not < >ranu'o rihimns. 
 Fvery yellow rau'. woollen, silk, and linen, were em- 
 ployed; and when the.-e were exhausted, the llowe;- 
 were made use of; and happily the revolution be-aii 
 in the sprine'. when the primro.-' s and datlodilhs 
 could serve as Orange cocka {<:<. To this day, every
 
 244 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740. 
 
 boor, and tradesman, and schoolboy, wears the 
 ensigns of the prince ; and every street in every 
 village, as well as in every town, has triumphal 
 arches with emblematical figures and Latin inscrip- 
 tions, such as, 'Tandem justitia triumphat,' ' Novus 
 ab integro sreclorum nascitur ordo,' ' Vox populi, vox 
 Dei.' I shall only say, if this last motto be true, the 
 Prince of Orange is the only Jure divino monarch in 
 the universe. I believe, since the time of Germanicus, 
 deservedly the darling of the Romans, never was a 
 people so fond of one man ; surely there entered not 
 the smallest intrigue of his own into his election. 
 There is something of innocence and simplicity in his 
 character, which promotes more his popularity than 
 the greatest capacity. But, 
 
 Non tali auxilio, nee defensoribus istis 
 Tempus eget. 
 
 "Breda, IGtk March. 
 
 " We arrived here the day before yesterday, in 
 three days from the Hague, and as the snows were 
 then melted, after the most violent frost in the world, 
 we discovered Holland in all its native deformity. 
 Nothing can be more disagreeable than that heap of 
 dirt, and mud, and ditches, and reeds, which they here 
 call a country, except the silly collection of shells and 
 clipped evergreens which they call a garden. It gave 
 us a sensible pleasure, as we came near Breda, to 
 find ourselves on a dry barren heath, and to see some- 
 thing like a human habitation. I have heard that a 
 man, from the aspect of Holland, would imagine that 
 land and water, after many struggles which should be 
 master of it, had at last agreed to share it betwixt 
 them. If so, the land has come by much the worst 
 bargain, and has much the smallest share of the pos- 
 session. I am told, however, that Holland is a plea-
 
 Aa. :;: 
 
 JOURNAL. BREDA. 
 
 24. 
 
 s;int enough habitation in the summer : though even 
 that beauty lasts a very short time; for, during the 
 latter end of summer ami during tlie harvot. the 
 canals send forth so disagreeable and unwholesome a 
 smell, that there is no enduring of it. 
 
 We passed over the Maese at (Jorcum, where it 
 is above half a mile broad: and as the ice had b 'en 
 softened by a thaw of three or four days, we were 
 obliged to make use of an ice boat. The operation is 
 after this manner : you place yourself on your ice boat. 
 which is like an ordinary boat, except only that it runs 
 upon two keels, shod with iron. Three or four men 
 push you alone; in this boat, very cleverly, as lone.- as the 
 ice will bear you : but whenever that fails, plump down 
 you u'o into the water of a sudden. You are very 
 heartily frightened. The men are wet, up to the neck 
 sometimes : but, keeping hold of the boat, leap in, 
 n>w you through the water, till they come to ice which 
 can bear. There they pull you up. run alone; with 
 you. till you -ink a^ain ; and so they renew the >ame 
 operation. 
 
 "At (Jorcum we met with 1 )rumlanri;/s regiment. 
 which dues no i^reat honour to their country by their 
 looks and appearances. There has been a mutiny 
 amongst them, out of discontent to the country. \\ e 
 met with some Highlanders, who regretted extrencly 
 their native hills. 
 
 "The nieht we came to lireda we Hipped with 
 Lord Albemarle, who told us, in entering, that we 
 miejit soon expect to hear of a battle in the neigh- 
 bourhood; and accord inu'lv, in about an hour, a nc-- 
 senu'er came in with the news, which is the |.< -.t we 
 have had in the Low Countries duriue; tic wide 
 war. You have no doubt heard of it. It \v;i> 
 the attack of a convov to licrc'ii-op-Xoom. ocorted
 
 246 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 by about 5000 French, where 400 were killed, 
 and about 1000 taken prisoners. x Next day, the 
 prisoners were led through the town. They were 
 the piquets of several old regiments, and some com- 
 panies of grenadiers ; but such pitiful-looking fellows 
 never man set eye on. France is surely much ex- 
 hausted of men, when she can fill her armies with 
 such poor wretches. We all said, when they passed 
 along, are these the people that have beat us so 
 often ? 
 
 " I stood behind Lord Albemarle, who was looking 
 over a low window to see them. One of the ragged 
 scarecrows, seeing his lordship's star and ribbon, turned 
 about to him, and said very briskly, ' Aujourd'hui pour 
 vous, Monsieur, domain pour le roi.' If they have all 
 this spirit, no wonder they beat us. However, when 
 one compares to the French the figures of men that 
 are in this town, British, Hessians, and Austrians, 
 they seem almost of a different species. Their officers 
 expect they will all do much better after having had 
 leisure to see their enemy. Breda is a strong town, 
 though not near so strong as Bergen-op-zoom. It is 
 almost surrounded by water, and inaccessible except 
 in one place, by which it will be taken, if the 206,000 
 men, whom we arc to have in the field this year, in 
 the Low Countries, cannot save it. 'Tis certain so many 
 men are stipulated by the several powers, the 
 greatest army that ever was assembled together in 
 the world, since the Xerxeses and Artaxerxeses ; if 
 these could be called armies. God prosper his royal 
 highness, and give him what he only wants ; I mean 
 good fortune, to second his prudence and conduct. 
 " The French certainly have laid their account to 
 
 1 The French, under Lowendahl, had taken Bergen by storm on 
 the .jth September, 1747.
 
 Ivr. 37. JnUKNAL. X1MIGUKX. 21-7 
 
 give up l-Tanders by tho peace ; they squeeze, and 
 oppress, and tax and abuse tin,' I*Temings so mueli, 
 that 'tis evident they consider them not as subjects. 
 They are also said to he pretty heartily tired of the 
 war, notwithstanding of their threat successes. I sup- 
 pose the loss of their trade pinches them: so that 
 there are some hopes of a peace, which may not he 
 altogether intolerable. liy the conversation 1 have 
 had with several judicious officers, I Hud that Mareschal 
 Saxe and Lowendahl, though sensible men and of great 
 experience, are not regarded as such mighty generals 
 as we are apt to imagine them at a distance, from 
 their victories and conquests. Their blunders last 
 campaign were many and obvious, and particularly 
 that of besieging hergen-op-zoom. "J' was a thousand 
 to one they got it, and it serves them to no purpose 
 when they have it : It is not by that quarter they 
 can penetrate into the Provinces." 
 
 M>,i. l i>i. ,,. -luth M ir-h. 
 
 We have come from I'ovda in two days, and lay 
 last night at I>ois-le-due, which is .-ituated in tic 
 midst of a hike, and is absolutely impregnable. That 
 part of IJrabant, through which we travelled, is not 
 very fertile, and is full of sandy heaths. N i i n gicn is 
 in the (iichlre, the pleasantest province 1 of tic seven, 
 perhaps of the seventeen. Tic hind is beautifully 
 divided into heights and plains, and is cut by the 
 branches of the Ixhine. Nimeguen has a wry com- 
 manding prospect, and the country below it i- parti- 
 cularly remarkable at present because of the im 
 dation of the Wahah a bramdi of the Uhine. which 
 covers the whole fields for several haga* - : and yen 
 see nothing but the tops of trees standing up amidst 
 the waters, which recalls the idea of Kgypt during the
 
 248 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 inundations of the Nile. Nimeguen is a well-built 
 town, not very strong, though surrounded with a great 
 many works. Here we met our machines, which 
 came hither by a shorter road from the Hague. They 
 are a berline for the general and his company, and a 
 chaise for the servants. We set out to-morrow, and 
 pass by Cologne, Frankfort, and Ratisbon, till we 
 meet with the Danube, and then we sail down that 
 river for two hundred and fifty miles to Vienna. 
 
 " Cologne, 23d March. 
 
 " We came hither last night, and have travelled 
 through an extreme pleasant country along the banks 
 of the Rhine. Particularly Cleves, which belongs to 
 the King of Prussia, is very agreeable, because of the 
 beauty of the roads, which are avenues bordered with 
 fine trees. The land in that province is not fertile, 
 but is well cultivated. The bishoprick of Cologne is 
 more fertile and adorned with fine woods as well as 
 Cleves. The country is all very populous, the houses 
 good, and the inhabitants well clothed and well fed. 
 This is one of the largest cities in Europe, being 
 near a league in diameter. The houses are all high ; 
 and there is no interval of gardens or fields. So that 
 you would expect it must be very populous. But it 
 is not so. It is extremely decayed, and is even 
 falling to ruin. Nothing can strike one with more 
 melancholy than its appearance, where there are marks 
 of past opulence and grandeur, but such present waste 
 and decay, as if it had lately escaped a pestilence or 
 famine. We are told, that it was formerly the centre 
 of all the trade of the Rhine, which has been since 
 removed to Holland, Liege, Frankfort, &c. Here 
 we see the Rhine in its natural state ; being only a 
 little higher (but no broader) on account of the
 
 .Ex. :;:. 
 
 JOURNAL. BONNE. 
 
 249 
 
 melting of the snows. I think it is as broad as from 
 the foot of your house to the opposite banks of the 
 river." 
 
 Bunn>\ 2\t}> M-trrh. 
 
 "This is about six leagues from Cologne, a 
 pleasant well-built little town, upon the banks of the 
 lvhine, and is tlie seat of the archbishop. We have 
 bestowed half a day in visiting his palace, which is 
 an extensive magnificent building; and he is certainly 
 the best lodged prince in Kurope except the King of 
 France. For, besides this palace, and a sort of 
 Maison de I'laisance near it. (the most elegant thing 
 in the world,) lie has also two country bouses very 
 magnificent. He is the late emperor's brother; and 
 is, as the}' say, a very fine gentleman ; a man of 
 pleasure, very gallant and gay : he has always at his 
 court a company of French comedians and Italian 
 singers. And as he always keeps out of wars, being 
 protected by the saeredness of his character, he has 
 nothing to hope and nothing to fear ; and seems to 
 be the happiest prince in Kurope. However, we could 
 wish lie took a little more care of his high-ways, even 
 though his furniture, pictures, and building were a 
 little less elegant. \\ e are got into a country where 
 we have no tires but stoves; and no covering but 
 feather beds; neither of which I like, both of them 
 are too warm and suffocating."' 
 
 "" \\ e have made the pleasantest journey in the world 
 in two days from IJonnc to this town. \\ e travel all 
 along the banks of the lvhine; sometimes in open, 
 beautiful, well-cultivated plains ; at another time sunk 
 betwixt high mountains, which are onlv divided by the
 
 250 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 Rhine, the finest river in the world. One of these 
 mountains is always covered with wood to the top ; 
 the other with vines ; and the mountain is so steep 
 that they are obliged to support the earth by walls, 
 which rise one above another like terraces to the 
 length of forty or fifty stories. Every quarter of a 
 mile, (indeed as often as there is any flat bottom for a 
 foundation,) you meet with a handsome village, 
 situated in the most romantic manner in the world. 
 Surely there never was such an assemblage of the 
 wild and cultivated beauties in one scene. There 
 are also several magnificent convents and palaces to 
 embellish the prospects. 
 
 " This is a very thriving well-built town, situated at 
 the confluence of the Moselle and the Rhine, and 
 consequently very finely situated. Over the former 
 river there is a handsome stone bridge; over the latter 
 a flying bridge, which is a boat fixed by a chain : this 
 chain is fixed by an anchor to the bottom of the middle 
 of the river far above, and is supported by seven little 
 boats placed at intervals that keep it along the surface 
 of the water. By means of the rudder, they turn the 
 head of the large boat to the opposite bank, and the 
 current of the river carries it over of itself. It goes 
 over in about four minutes, and will carry four or 
 five hundred people. It stays about five or six minutes 
 and then returns. Two men arc sufficient to guide 
 it, and it is certainly a very pretty machine. There 
 is the like at Cologne. This town is the common 
 residence of the Archbishop of Treves, who has here 
 a pretty magnificent palace. We have now r travelled 
 along a great part of that country, through which the 
 Duke of Marlborough marched up his army, when he 
 led them into Bavaria. 'Tis of this country Mr. 
 Addison speaks when lie calls the people
 
 A. r . .17. J L" It X A L. F R A N K FU RT . 251 
 
 N'ations (if slaves l>v Tvrannv debased, 
 Tlifir Maker's intake inure than lialf-tleta<'e>l. 
 
 And lie adds that the soldiers were 
 
 Iluurlv instructeil a- tliev un. r e their toil. 
 
 Id prize their Queen ami love their native soil. 
 
 " If any foot soldier could have more ridiculous 
 national prejudices than the poet, 1 should he much 
 surprised. IV assured there is not a finer country in 
 the world; nor are there any si^ns of poverty anions 
 the people. But John Bull's prejudices are ridiculous, 
 as his insolence is intolerable. " 
 
 u Frankfurt, 2S(/i Mnrrh. 
 
 " Our road from Coblentz to this passes through a 
 preat many princes' territories : Nassau's, Hesse's, 
 Baden's, Mentz. and this Ivepublic, \c. and there is as 
 <^re;it a diversity in the nature of tie country. The 
 lir-t part of the road from Coblentz to \\ eis-Baden is 
 vri'v mountainous and woody, but populous and well- 
 cultivated. In many places the snow is lyinu' very 
 thiek. The mad is disagreeable for a coach: some- 
 times von eo alone,' the side of a hill with a precipice 
 below you, and have not an inch to spare; and the 
 road ban eine all the way toward- the precipice, so that 
 one had need to haven oood head to look out of the 
 windows. Nassau, the prince of Orange's capital, is 
 but a village, and one of the most indifferent I have 
 sem in (icrmany. Betwixt Weis-Baden and I'rank- 
 fort we travel alone the banks of the .Maine, and >e.> 
 one of the finest plains in the world. I ne\,T-aw 
 such rich soil nor bettor cultivated ; all in corn and 
 sown erass. l'or we have not met with any natural 
 crass in ( icrmany. 
 
 " Frankfort is a vorv laree town, well-built and of
 
 252 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 great riches and commerce. Around it there are 
 several little country houses of the citizens, the 
 first of that kind we have seen in Germany ; for 
 every body, except the farmers, live in towns, and these 
 dwell all in villages. Whether this be for company 
 or protection, or devotion, I cannot tell. But it has 
 certainly its inconveniences. Princes have also seats 
 in the country, and monks have their convents ; but 
 no private gentleman ever dwells there. To-morrow 
 we pass over the field of Dettingen. We saw Heighst 
 [Hochst] to-day, where Lord Stair past the Maine, and 
 was recalled. The post he took seems not so good as 
 we have heard it represented. We saw General Mor- 
 daunt at Cologne, who was at the battle of Dettingen, 
 and gave us an exact description of the whole, which 
 we are to-morrow to compare with the field. Frank- 
 fort is a Protestant town." 
 
 " Wurtzburg, '30th March. 
 
 "The first town we come to after leaving Frankfort 
 is Hanau, which belongs to the Landgrave of Hesse, 
 and where there is a palace, that may lodge any king 
 in Europe, though the Landgrave never almost lives 
 there. Hanau is a very beautiful, well-built, but not 
 large town, on the banks of the Maine. All the 
 houses almost in Germany are of plaster, either upon 
 brick or wood, but very neatly done, and many of 
 them painted over, which makes them look very gay. 
 Their peasants' houses are sometimes plaster, some- 
 times clay upon wood, two stories high, and look very 
 well. 
 
 Next post beyond Hanau is the village of Dettingen, 
 where we walked out and surveyed the field of battle, 1 
 
 1 This celebrated battle took place nearly five years before Hume's 
 visit to the field. It was fought on 26th June, 1713.
 
 .Ki 
 
 journal. wurtzruro. 
 
 accompanied with the postmaster, who saw the battle 
 from his windows. Good (iod, what an escape we 
 made there ' The Maine is a large river not fordable; 
 this lay on our left hand. < m our right, high moun- 
 tains covered with thick wood, for several leagues. 
 The plain is not half a mile broad. The French were 
 posted by Noailles with their right supported by the 
 liver and the village of Dettingen; their left by the 
 mountains ; on their front a little rivulet, which 
 formed some marshes and meadows altogether im- 
 passable for the cavalry, and passable with difficulty 
 by the infantry. Add to this, that their cannon, 
 played in safety on the other side of the .Maine, raked 
 the whole plain before Dettingen, and took our army 
 in think. Noailles had past the bridge of Aschatfen- 
 bourg which was not broke down, and came up upon 
 our rear; and our army was starving tor want of 
 provisions. 
 
 "Such an arrangement of circumstances, as it were 
 contrived to ruin an army, a king and kingdom, never 
 was before found in the world; and yet there we gained 
 a victory, by the folly of (imminent, who p;i.-t that 
 rivulet, and met us in the open plain, before .Noailles 
 had come up. We were travelling in great security, 
 notwithstanding two repeated informations that the 
 French had past the Maine; the baggage of the annv 
 was betwixt the two lines; and when the first cannons 
 were tired, Neuperg and Stair both agreed that it 
 could be nothing but the French signal guns. I *ut 
 when they were certain that the affair was more in 
 earnest, Stair said, v Go to the king: I take nothing 
 upon me.' Clayton said. ' I will take it upon nie, to 
 remove the baggage.' And it was he that made the 
 little disposition that was made that day. The 
 Fnglish behaved ill : the French worse, which gave us
 
 254 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 the victory. But this victory so unexpectedly gained, 
 we pushed not as we ought, by the counsel of Neuperg. 
 What Lord Stair's whim was to advance to Aschaffen- 
 bourg, where he was twenty-five miles from Frankfort, 
 the place of all his magazines, 'tis impossible to ima- 
 gine. Surely he could advance no farther, as he must 
 have been convinced had he reconnoitred the road. It 
 runs over high mountains, and for twenty-five miles 
 through the thickest woods in the world. 
 
 " There is a pass three or four miles beyond Aschaf- 
 fenbourg, where no army could go with cannon and 
 baggage. When we 1 came to the foot of it a trum- 
 peter met us, who played a tune for joy of our safe 
 arrival ; and the like on our ascending the opposite 
 hill. The woods beyond are the finest I ever saw. 
 Wurtzburg is a very well-built town, situated in a fine 
 valley on the Maine. The banks of the river are very 
 high, and covered with vines. The river runs through 
 the town, and is passed on a very handsome bridge. 
 But what renders this town chiefly remarkable, is a 
 building which surprised us all, because we had never 
 before heard of it, and did not there expect to meet 
 with such a thing. "lis a prodigious magnificent 
 palace of the bishop who is the sovereign. 'Tis all of 
 hewn stone and of the richest architecture. J do 
 think the king of France has not such a house. If it 
 be less than Versailles, 'tis more complete and finished. 
 What a surprising thing it is, that these petty princes 
 can build such palaces : but it has been fifty years 
 a rearing ; and 'tis the chief expense of ecclesias- 
 tics. The bishop of AVurtzburg is chosen from 
 amongst the canons, who have a very good artifice 
 
 1 The " wo," must now be held no more to apply to our army, 
 as it has heretofore done, in reference to the battle, but to 
 General St. Clair's party.
 
 /Ki. :;: 
 
 JOl'RNAL. UATISBO.V. 
 
 to exclude princes. Tis a rule, that every one at enter- 
 ing shall receive a very hearty drubbing from the rest : 
 the brother of the elector of Havana uttered ;i million 
 ot florins, to he exempted from the ceremony, and 
 could not prevail." 
 
 /,*.//;,/ .. -ii Aj /;/. 
 
 " \\ e were all very much taken with the town of 
 Nuremberg, win.- re we lay two nights ago; the houses, 
 though old-fa>hioned, and of a grotesque figure, (Jiaving 
 soinetinies five or >i\ stories of garrets.) yet are they 
 solid, well built, complete, and cleanly. The people 
 are handsome, well clothed, and well fed; an air of 
 industry and contentment, "without splendour, prevails 
 through the whole. 'Tis a Protectant republic on 
 the banks of a river, (whose name 1 have forgot. 1 ) that 
 runs into the Maine, and is navigable for boat.-. The 
 town is of a lar^e extent. < >n leaving N iiireiuhere; we 
 eutereil into the elector of Pnvurias countrv. where 
 the eontra>t appeared \^ry >tronu." w ith the inhabitants 
 of the former republic. There was a ^r.-at air of 
 poverty in every face ; the tirM poverty indeed we bad 
 seen in i,i I'm any. \\ c travelled al>o through part of 
 the elector Palatine's country, and then returned to 
 Bavaria ; but thoicji the country be e<><>d and well 
 cultivated, and jiopulous, the inhabitants are not at 
 their ease. The late miserabl wars have no doubt 
 hurt them much. Uutisbon is a catholic republic 
 situated on the banks of the I )anube. The hou>es 
 and buildings, and aspect of the peojde, are well 
 enough, though not comparable to those of Nuremberg. 
 Tis pretended that the difference is alway> -,.]i.-.ible 
 betwixt a Protestant and Catholic country, through- 
 out all (icrmany; and perhaps there may be .-ome- 
 
 Tl.o !'
 
 2,56 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1738. 
 
 thing in this observation, though it is not every where 
 sensible. 
 
 " AVe descend the Danube from this to Vienna ; we 
 go in a large boat about eighty foot long, where we 
 have three rooms, one for ourselves, a second for the 
 servants, and a third for our kitchen. "lis made 
 entirely of fir boards, and is pulled to pieces at 
 Vienna, the wood sold, and the watermen return to 
 Ratisbon a-foot. We lie on shore every night. We 
 are all glad of this variety, being a little tired of our 
 berline." 
 
 " The Danube, 7th of April. 
 
 " We have really made a very pleasant journey, or 
 rather voyage, with good weather, sitting at our ease, 
 and having a variety of scenes continually presented 
 to us, and immediately shifted, as it were in an opera. 
 The banks of the Danube are very wild and savage, 
 and have a very different beauty from those of the 
 Rhine ; being commonly high scraggy precipices, 
 covered all with firs. The water is sometimes so 
 straitened betwixt these mountains, that this im- 
 mense river is often not sixty foot broad. We 
 have lain in and seen several very good towns in 
 Bavaria and Austria, such as Strauburg, Passau, 
 Lintz ; but what is most remarkable is the great 
 magnificence of some convents, particularly Moelk, 
 where a set of lazy rascals of monks live in the most 
 splendid misery of the world; for, generally speaking, 
 their lives are as little to be envied as their persons 
 are to be esteemed. 
 
 " We enter Vienna in a few hours, and the country 
 is here extremely agreeable ; the fine plains of the 
 Danube began about thirty miles above, and continued 
 down, through Austria, Hungary, &c. till it falls into
 
 a: i. :;; 
 
 JOURNAL. TIIK DAXUHK. 
 
 the ISlack Sea. Tho river is very magnificent. Thus 
 we have finished a very agreeable journey of SGO miles 
 (for so far is Vienna from the Hau'ue.) liave past 
 through many a prince's territories, and have had 
 in on.' masters than many of tliese princes have subjects, 
 (ii-nnany is undoubtedly a very fine country, full of 
 industrious honest people : and were it united, it would 
 he the greatest power that ever was in the world. 
 The common people are here, almost every where, 
 much bettor treated, and more at their ease, than in 
 France : and are not very much inferior to the llnidish, 
 notwithstanding all the airs the latter give themselves. 
 There are o-reat advantages in travelling, and nothing 
 serves more to remove prejudice's; tor 1 confess I had 
 ontertained no such advantageous idea of (lermany; 
 and it e'ives a man of humanity pleasure to see that 
 so con-idcrabh' a part of mankind as the (.icrinans are 
 in so tolerahl" a condit ion." 
 
 " Vivift, I.W/ A/'ril. 
 
 " Tic last week was Master week, and every 
 lttd\ was at their devotions, so that we saw not the 
 court nor the emperor and empress, till yesterday, 
 when we were all introduced hv Sir Thomas Kohinson. 1 
 
 ' > r I 1 1 ' 1111:1- Ii>il)iii-nii. wliiisc name li;i- ilnij>]i"il mil "I r- <..]- 
 'In 1 ' Unary liin^r:;jiliic;il < 1 i t i < n 1 ; i r i - . I>ul i- -till fain 
 I'll.' 1 p i I - 1- - '!' tin' hi [urv of the |i<*rii >f 1, \\a> \'<>v -nine t i 1 1 1 - 
 
 " ' W.-nna. ami \va- |iloni]>oteiit iarv from hritain at th- 
 ey "l Ai\ La ( 'liaj..-]lr in 17 Is. In 17-M li.< Lecnim- -.ivtar\ 
 
 > 'a!' 1 t"i' a few month-. I n 1 7c 1 he \\ a> mi- , I i., 1 },< j ra^o 
 
 I ;.' l!"' tit!.- iif I'.,i:..ii ( irantliani. Sir Thoina-," -iv- W'al|>o!e, 
 
 1 lii'i'ii lifcil in (li'iinan eonrt-. ami \va- ratl..r re-t' t* J 1 
 iiaturali/i'il in tin' _'onin- of that cnuntrv ; In' ha. I <i.iman I 
 
 I ( ii'i'i 111 |.i.lili'-. ami n.ul.l explain him . If a little a- if !,. 
 
 ke only (ii'iniaii." Memoire- of < i, .,;..-. I I I. :;::;. .\ee, nlnn; to 
 
 thf -aim' antlioritv, he ua- -ulijeeteil, on arc nnt of hi- nann-, |. an 
 
 i < Ion ti lien t ion with Roliin-i.n ( 'rn-oo. -1 un ihii like that with u hii h 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 They arc a well-looked couple, the emperor has a 
 great air of goodness, and his royal consort of spirit. 
 Her voice, and manner, and address are the most 
 agreeable that can be, and she made us several com- 
 pliments on our nation. She is not a beauty ; but, 
 being a sovereign, and a woman of sense and spirit, 
 no wonder she has met such extraordinary support 
 from her subjects, as well as from some other nations 
 of Europe. However, the English gallantry towards 
 her is a little relaxed ; and the King of Sardinia is 
 their present favourite. She begged of the general 
 not to be so much her enemy as his predecessor, 
 General Wentworth, had been. He replied, that a 
 perfect impartiality was recommended him by the 
 king, his master ; and that he was resolved to preserve 
 it, though he confessed that was difficult for a person 
 who had had the honour of having had access to her 
 imperial majesty. 
 
 " We were introduced to-day to the archdukes and 
 archduchesses (who are fine children) and to the 
 empress-dowager. She had seen no company for 
 two months ; but, hearing that Englishmen desired 
 to be introduced to her, she immediately received us. 
 
 Madame Talleyrand honoured Dcnori, owing to the accident of his 
 being a great traveller whose name ended in " on." 
 
 "Sir T. Robinson was a tall uncouth man, and his stature was 
 often rendered .still more remarkable by his hunting dress, a pos- 
 tilion's cap, a tight green jacket, and buckskin breeches. lie was 
 liable to sudden whims ; and once set oil' on a sudden, in his hunt- 
 ing suit, to visit his sister, who was married and settled at Paris. 
 lie arrived while there was a large company at dinner. The 
 servant announced Mr. Robinson, and he came in, to the great 
 amazement of the guests. Among others a French abbe thrice lifted 
 his fork to his mouth, and thrice laid it down, with an eager stare 
 of surprise. Unable to restrain his curiosity any longer, he burst 
 out with, " Excuse me, sir ; are you the famous Robinson Crusoe 
 o remarkable in history." Walpoliana.
 
 .V . : 7. 
 
 JOURNAL. VIENNA. 
 
 L'.jf) 
 
 You must know that you neither how nor kneel to 
 emperors and empresses, hut curtsy : so that, after 
 we IkuI ha>l a little conversation with her imperial 
 majesty, we were to walk hackwanls through a very 
 loui:' room, curtsying all the way. and there was very 
 :.i at danger of our falling foul of each other, as well 
 as of tunihliim - topsy-turvy. She saw the difficulty 
 we were in ; and immediately called to us: 'Allez, 
 alie/. Messieurs, sans ceretnonie ; vous n etes pas 
 acroutunies a ce niouvement, et le plancher est udis- 
 sant." We esteemed ourselves very much ohliued to 
 her for this attention, especially my companions, 
 who were desperately afraid of my falling on them 
 and crushing them. 
 
 " This court is fine, without heinu; e,ay ; and the 
 company is very aceessihlc, without heinu' very 
 ,-oeiahl-'. When we were to he introduced to the 
 -inpori ,r ;uid cinj)ress. Sir Thomas Kohinson gathered 
 
 i- all toother info a window, that lie miuht he aide 
 '" carry us to them at once, when the linn' should he 
 proper, A lady cane up to him. and asked him it' 
 '!. .-' were not his chickens he was Catherine under 
 in- wine-, after which she joined conversation with 
 
 - : and in a little time asked us. if we had any 
 acquaintance of the ladies of the court, and if we 
 should not he ehid to know their names. We replied 
 that she could not do us a greater favour. 'Why. 
 [hen. -ays she, ' I shall fell you. heuinnim: with 
 my-'lf; 1 am the ( 'ountess ' she added her name, 
 which I am sorry to have forgot. We have u. ' with 
 \'Tal instances <>f these aureealde liherties. The 
 women here are man}' of them handsome; if you e\m- 
 want toasts, please to name, n j > n i my authority. 
 Mademoiselle Stareinheru', or the ('i>un!e>s I '. 
 
 ' Tin 1 men are imlv and awkward. W c lane sec!'
 
 260 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 all those fierce heroes, whom we have so often read of 
 in gazettes, the Lichten steins, the Esterhasis, the 
 Colloredos; most of them have red heels to their 
 shoes, and wear very well-dressed toupees. 
 
 " I have heard Mary Johnston say she was told 
 that she was very like the empress-queen. Please 
 tell her it is not so. The empress, though not very 
 well shaped, is better than Maly ; but she has not 
 so good a face. She looks also as if she were prouder 
 and worse tempered. Apropos, to our friends of 
 Hutton hall, inform them that they have a very near 
 relation at this court, who is a prodigious fine gentle- 
 man, and a great fool. His name is Sir James 
 Caldwell. 1 He told me his grandmother was a Hume, 
 and that he expected soon to inherit a very fine estate 
 by her, which he was to share with the Johnstones 
 
 1 An Irish baronet, grandson of Sir James Caldwell who was 
 created a baronet in 1083, and distinguished himself in the service 
 of William 111. during the Irish revolutionary wars. The person 
 commemorated in so flattering a manner by Hume, rose to con- 
 siderable rank in the service of the empress, and was enabled to 
 introduce to that service a brother, who obtained in it far more 
 distinction, and who, in connexion with the relationship mentioned 
 above, was called Hume Caldwell. He seems to have been strongly 
 endowed with the mercurial disposition of his countrymen. On 
 his first introduction to the 1 service, ho " took expensive lodging-, 
 kept a chariot, a running footman, and a hussar, and was admitted 
 into the highest circles ;" the natural result of which was, that, on 
 preparing to join his regiment, when he paid his debts, he found 
 that he had just two gold ducats left ; whereupon, as his biographer 
 pathetically narrates, " the companion of princes, the friend of 
 Count Conigsegg, the possessor of a splendid hotel and a gilt 
 chariot, who had kept a hussar and an opera girl, figured at court, 
 and had an audience of the empress, and was possessed of a letter 
 of credit for 1000, sot out from Vienna alone, on foot, in a mean 
 habit, and with an empty pocket, for that army in which lie was 
 to rise by his merit to a distinguished command." His subsecjucnt 
 history is a little romance. Mr. Hume Caldwell, being lost sight 
 of by the great world, is searched for hither and thither, and at
 
 Hi. :;;. 
 
 Juno \I.. VIKN.NA. 
 
 2()l 
 
 in Scotland. I')iit he savs it is only Wynne that has 
 tin 1 half, not tin 1 ladies, who have no share; so that 
 you'll please tell Sophy that 1 am oil"; and L'ivc her 
 her liberty, notwithstanding all vows and promises 
 that may have past betwixt us." 
 
 l'i ,i)rt. L> .V'/< Aj.f'il. 
 
 ' W e <"\ out to-morrow, hut u,'o not by the way of 
 
 \ ''nice, as we at lirst proposed. This is some morti- 
 lication to us. We shall no, however, by Milan. 
 Thi> town is very little for a capital, hut excessively 
 populous. The houses are very hiu'h, the streets very 
 narrow and crooked, so that the many handsome 
 buildings that Lire here, make not any figure. The 
 >ubiirbs are spjicious and open: but. on the whole, I 
 can never believe what they t < 1 1 us. that there are 
 two hundred thousand inhabitants in it. It is com- 
 pn-"d entirely of nobility and of lackeys, of soldiers 
 and of prio- :-,. Now. I believe you '11 allow, that in 
 a town inhabited only by tln'S" four sots of people 
 above-mentioned, the einpress-epieen could not have 
 mi Ici'tahi'ii a more diiticult ta.-k. than that which she 
 ha- magnanimously entered upon, viz. the producing 
 an absolute idiastity unionist them. A court of 
 cha-tity is lately erected here, wdio send all loose 
 women to the frontiers of I lun^'arv. where they can 
 (tidy dehaurh Turks and Infidels. 1 hope you will 
 not pay \our taxes with greater enid^e. because you 
 hear that her imperial majesty, in whose service they 
 are to be -pent, is so eivat a prude. 
 
 '"There has been ereat noi>e made with us on 
 account of the ipieen's new palace at Schoiibrunn. 
 
 Ii'!i_ r tli :im 1 i'i li |>i'i\ :it>- > 1.1*. r I i 1 1 _ .); ' :;' ;il" cti-r, 
 
 ' in: nut t.i Ih> ( 'al.lwell Iiim-elf. v. !. - p-i : -1 f.> 
 
 , : ,i. ( . r -! it i. .11. IIv:r. W\,.uV ; I-
 
 262 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 It is, indeed, a handsome house, but not very great 
 nor richly furnished. She said to the general last 
 night, that not a single soldier had gone to the 
 building, whatever might be said in England, but that 
 she liked better to be tolerably lodged than to have 
 useless diamonds by her ; and that she had sold all 
 her crown jewels to enable her to be at that expense. 
 I think, for a sovereign, she is none of the worst in 
 Europe, and one cannot forbear liking her for the 
 spirit with which she looks, and speaks, and acts. 
 But 'tis a pity her ministers have so little sense. 
 
 " Prince Eugene's palace in the suburbs is an 
 expensive stately building, but of a very barbarous 
 Gothic taste. He was more skilled in battering /calls 
 than building, as was said of his friend, the Duke of 
 Marlborough. There is a room in it, where all Prince 
 Eugene's battles were painted : upon which the 
 Portuguese ambassador told him, that the whole house 
 was indeed richly furnished, but that all the kings in 
 Europe could not furnish such a room as that. I have 
 been pretty busy since I came here, and have regretted 
 it the less that there is no very great amusement in 
 this place. No Italian opera ; no French comedy ; 
 no dancing. I have, however, heard Monticelli, who 
 is the next wonder of the world to Farinelli." 
 
 ' Knittclfeldt in Styria, 28th April. 
 
 " This is about a hundred and twenty miles from 
 Vienna. The first forty is a fine well-cultivated 
 plain, after which we enter the mountains ; and, as 
 we are told, we have three hundred miles more of 
 them before we reach the plains of Lombardy. The 
 way of travelling through a mountainous country is 
 generally very agreeable. AVe arc obliged to trace 
 the course of the rivers, and are always in a pretty
 
 Ki. ,; 7. JOURNAL. KN1TTELFELDT. 9 { ];\ 
 
 valley surrounded by high hills : and liave a constant 
 and very quick succession of wild agreeable prospects 
 every ijiiarter of a mile. Through Styria nothing 
 
 can lif mere curious than the scenes. In the valleys, 
 which are fertile and finely cultivated, there is at 
 pre-. Mit a full bloom of spring. The hills to a 
 certain height are covered with rirs and larch trees, 
 the tops are all shining with snow. You may see 
 a tree white with blossom, and, fifty fathom farther 
 up. the ground white with snow. These hills, as 
 you may imagine, give a great command of water 
 to the valleys, which the industrious inhabitants 
 distribute into every Held, and render the whole very 
 fertile. There are many iron mines in the country, 
 and the valleys are upon that account extremely 
 populous. Hut as much as the country is agreeable 
 in it- v\ ihiness. as much art' the inhabitants savage, 
 and deformed, and monstrous in their appearance. 
 \ <tv many of them have ugly swelled throats; idiots 
 ;tf people swarm in every village; and tic 1 
 grii.Tul aspect of the people is the most shocking I 
 ever .-aw. ' mu' would think, that as this was the 
 great road, through which all the barbarous nations 
 made their irruptions into the Koman empire, they 
 always left here the refuse of their armies before they 
 entered into the enemy's country, and that from 
 thence tli" present inhabitants are descended. Their 
 1 1- - is -carce Kuropean, as their figure is scarce 
 hun, an. 
 
 "'There happened, however, a thing to-day, which 
 surprised us all. The empress-queen, regardin- thi- 
 country us a little barbarous, has sent some mission- 
 aries of .Jesuits to instruct them. They had sermons 
 to-day in the street, under our windows, attended 
 with psalm- ; and believe me, nothing could be more
 
 264 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 harmonious, better tuned, or more agreeable than the 
 voices of these savages ; and the chorus of a French 
 opera does not sing in better time. You may infer 
 from thence, if you please, that Orpheus did not 
 civilize the savage nations by his music. I know not 
 what progress the Jesuits have made by their elo- 
 quence ; but it appears to me that religion is not the 
 point in which the Styrians are defective, at least if 
 we may judge by the number of their churches, cruci- 
 fixes, &c. We shall be detained here some days by 
 Sir Harry Erskine's illness, who is seized with an 
 ague." 
 
 t; Clac/enfurt in Carinthia, May 4. 
 
 " This is a mighty pretty little town, near the 
 Drave. It is the capital of the province, and stands 
 in a tolerable large plain, surrounded with very high 
 hills ; and on the other side the Drave we see the 
 savage Mountains of Carniola. You know the Alps 
 join with the Pyrenees, these with the Alps, 1 and run 
 all along the north of Turkey in Europe to the Black 
 Sea, and form the longest chain of mountains in the 
 universe. 
 
 " The figure of the Carinthians is not much better 
 than that of the Styrians." 
 
 " Trent, St/t of May. 
 
 ' We are still amongst mountains, and follow the 
 tract of rivers in order to find our way. .But the 
 aspect of the people is wonderfully changed on enter- 
 ing the Tyrol. The inhabitants arc there as remarka- 
 bly beautiful as the Styrians are ugly. An air of 
 humanity, and spirit, and health, and plenty, is seen 
 in every face. Yet their country is wilder than 
 Styria, the hills higher, and the valleys narrower and 
 
 1 Sic in MS. Perhaps he mount to allude to the junction with 
 the Carpathians through the Bohemian ranges.
 
 -F.r. .17. 
 
 .JOURNAL. TRKNT 
 
 2(5; 
 
 more barren. They are hotli (iormans, subject to the 
 house of Austria : so that it wouhl puzzle a naturalist 
 or politician to find the reason of so u'reat and re- 
 markable a diJl'erence. We traced up the I 'rave to its 
 source: (that river, you know, falls into the Danube, 
 and into the I'dack Sea.) It ended in a small rivulet, 
 and that in a ditch, and then in a little bo--. < >u tin- 
 top of tin- hill (though then' was there a well culti- 
 vat 'd plain) there was no more appearance of spring 
 than at Christmas. In about half a mile after we 
 had seen the Drave extinguish, we observed a little 
 .-tripe of water to move. This was the beginning of 
 the Adi^e, and the rivers that run into the Adriatic-. 
 \\ e were now turn inn' toward tin 1 south part of the 
 hill, and descended with u'reat rapidity. < Mir little 
 brook in three or four miles became a considerable 
 river, and every hour's travelling ,-diowed us a new 
 aspect of >] riiiLi' : so that in one day we passed through 
 all the gradations of that beautiful season, a- we de- 
 scended lower into the valleys, from its first faint dawn 
 till it- full bloom and ulory. We are here in Italv : at 
 I -a-t tin- common l;t iillu:il:'' v of the people is Italian. 
 This town is not remarkable neither for size nor 
 b'-auty. lis only famous for that wise assembly of 
 philosophers and divines, who established such rational 
 tenets for the belief of mankind." 
 
 - M.i,,f*i.i. II" .l//v. 
 " W e are now in classic ground : and I have kis-ed 
 the earth that produced \ ire;il, and have admired tho>-> 
 fertile plain- that he has so finely celebrated. 
 
 I *-!-. 1 i. 1 1 1 Milt j u;il. ! ' : ' M:l!!l i;l r:m;]'. 
 
 " ' V i on are tired, and so am I . with the deseript ion> 
 of countries: and therefore shall only .-ay. that no- 
 
 ' lit '['Kil.'iii infVlix :ui!!-:! Ma::' ;;t c:;n:['-;ii.. < i t i-_r. ii. las .'
 
 266 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 thing can be more singularly beautiful than the plains 
 of Lombardy, nor more beggarly and miserable than 
 this town." 
 
 " Cremona, \2th of May. 
 
 " Alas, poor Italy ! 
 
 Impius haec tarn culta novalia miles liabebit ; 
 Barbarus has segetes ? 
 
 The poor inhabitant 
 Starves, in the midst of Nature's plenty curst ; 
 And in the loaded vineyard dies for thirst. 
 
 " The taxes are here exorbitant beyond all bounds. 
 We lie to-morrow at Milan." 
 
 "Turin, Jane \Qth, 1?48. 
 
 " I wrote you about three weeks ago. This is 
 brought into England by Mr. Bathurst, a nephew of 
 Lord Bathurst, who intended to serve a campaign in 
 our family. We know nothing as yet of the time of 
 our return. But I believe we shall make the tour of 
 Italy and France before we come home. 'Tis thought 
 the general will be sent as public minister to settle 
 Don Philip ; so that we shall have seen a great variety 
 of Dutch, German, Italian, Spanish, and French courts 
 in this jaunt. 
 
 Qui mores hominum multorum vidit, et urbcs. 
 
 "I say nothing of Milan, or Turin, or Piedmont : 
 
 because 1 shall have time enough to entertain you 
 with accounts of all these. Though you may be little 
 diverted with this long epistle, you ought at least to 
 thank me for the pains I have taken in composing 
 it. I have not yet got my baggage." 
 
 Far different was the pomp and circumstance in 
 which the writer of this narrative performed his
 
 .la. "7. 
 
 JIU'KNAL. Tl'RIN. 
 
 journey, from the condition in which (ioldsmith, four 
 years afterward.*?, pursued nearly the same route to 
 
 when.' tin' rude ( 'arintliian 1 r 
 
 A_'ain-t tlic linii.-clc-s -t raii^.-r -lint- !!. il'..r. 
 
 And Hume's motions seem to have partaken of the 
 pomp and regularity of his official station : for, even in 
 these familiar letters to his hrother, he is all alone; the 
 s<'er.-tary of legation : or when he descends from that 
 leiuht. it is hut to mount the chair of the scholar and 
 philosopher. There are no escapades. We never 
 hear that he has taken it in his head to diverge from 
 the regular route to see an old castle or a waterfall. 
 Yet h" went with an eye 1 for scenery. The Alpine 
 pa--fs excited his admiration, and his description of 
 th" hanks of the Ivhine will he recognised at this day 
 as \cry accurate with one material exception. lie 
 says nothing of the feudal fortresses perched like the 
 ii"-?- of hirds of prey, to which their moral resem- 
 hlanc-' was at least as close as their physical : and thus 
 i : ot' th' greatest historians of his aea\ passes through 
 a country without appearing to have noticed in tin ir 
 true' character, this series of prominent marks of a 
 ivmarkahle chapter in the history of Kuropo. lie 
 speaks of them simply as palaces " a word not 
 d'--i ^native of the character of the huihlinu's. or in any 
 way i-vincin^ that their historical position had oc<Mirred 
 to his mind. hut it must he admitted, that Inter 
 tourists on the Kliiiii? have amply made up for his 
 silence on these matters. 
 
 lie (Iocs not condescend to mention an_\ one of the 
 line specimens of (dothie architecture which hen 
 have seen not even that vast and heautiful :',a..- 
 ment the cathedral of Cologne. < >ne wonders w let her 
 or not he was at the trouhle of impiirine;, what was
 
 268 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 that huge mass which he must have seen towering- 
 over the city; and if, straying within its gates, and 
 looking on Albert Durer's painted windows, he had 
 curiosity enough to inspect the reliquary of the tomb 
 of the three kings, containing gems so ancient, that 
 they are conjectured to be older than Christianity, and 
 to have been the ornaments of some Pagan shrine, 
 transferred to and historically associated with the 
 pure creed which displaced the barbarous rites of 
 Paganism. This might have at least formed a curious 
 topic for his Natural History of Religion. Put on this 
 as on many other subjects, he would sympathize with 
 La Pruyere when he speaks of " L'ordre Gothique, 
 (pie la barbaric avoit introduit pour les palais et pour 
 les temples;" and his thorough neglect of both the 
 baronial and ecclesiastical architecture of the middle 
 ages, is characteristic of a mind which could find 
 nothing worthy of admiration, in the time which 
 elapsed between the extinction of ancient classical 
 literature, and the rise of the arts and sciences in 
 modern Europe. 
 
 Put upon scarcely any subject does Hume converse 
 as a brother travelling into foreign lands might be 
 supposed to address a brother residing at home, and 
 cultivating his ancestral acres. We should expect 
 to find him observing that this river is like the Tweed, 
 or unlike it larger or smaller ; or comparing some 
 range of hills with the Cheviots: but he is general 
 and undomestic in all his remarks, save the one 
 observation that the Rhine is as broad as from his 
 brother's house to the opposite side of the river. 
 
 Until he conies to the land of Virgil, where he 
 hows real enthusiasm, the chief object of his interest 
 and observation appears to have been the warlike 
 operations in the midst of which he found himself.
 
 .-!>. .*:;. 
 
 .HU'RNAl.. TI'RIN. 
 
 J< :i 
 
 The mission must have 1 >< < 11 :itt'inlel with tin 1 
 ordinary dangers of :i military enterprise. It was 
 undertaken at a time when all Kuropo was at war, 
 and though decisive battles were not taking place, 
 petty conflicts and surprises were of perpetual oe- 
 enrrence until the treaty of Aix-la-Chnpelle, a few 
 months afterwards, restored repose to the exhausted 
 nations. Yet we find no symptoms of anxiety in 
 th > mind of the philosophical actor of the military 
 diameter. II is tone is n'enerally that of a private* 
 traveller in a peaceful country, rather than that of a 
 memher of an expedition armed for defence, and likely 
 to h'' called on to defend itself. \\ hen lie mentions 
 warlike operations, he adopts the tone of a historical 
 critic, and never that of a person who may find his 
 personal safety or comfort compromised by them. 
 Though lie > 'ems to have -ef out with the too 
 iier;il notion that military affairs are the main 
 nl.i.rt of attention to the man who i< d"-irous of 
 di-tinction in historical lit em; ere. we find already 
 vninu' on him the historian's nobler dutv as a 
 i'elineator of the state of society, and an impuivr info 
 liie causes of the hajipiness or misery of the people. 
 And his observations are made with a wide and 
 eeiierous benevolence, strikingly at contrast with those 
 prevailine; doctrines of his day. which soul:!!;, in the 
 -uecess and happiness of one country, the (dements 
 of the misery of another, and made the e,ood fortune 
 of our neighbours a source of hnnentatioii. as in- 
 dicafiuj,' calamity to ourselves. [lis unaffected 
 d duration of pleasure, in tindine the (ioniums so 
 
 happv and comfortable a ] pie. marks a heart full 
 
 of genuine kindness and beuev(deiice. and will mole 
 than atone for the want of a disposition to ranue
 
 270 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 through alpine scenery, or a taste to appreciate the 
 beauties of Gothic architecture. 
 
 It will be seen that Hume had intended to con- 
 tinue his journal, but no farther trace of it has been 
 found. The results of the mission have not been 
 generally noticed by historians. Its objects were of 
 a subordinate nature, and the occasion for attending 
 to them was obviated by the completion of the treaty 
 of Aix-la-Chapelle on 7th October. 
 
 Meanwhile, of Hume's residence in Turin, we have 
 some notices by an able observer, Lord Charlemont, 
 the celebrated Irish political leader, who, then in his 
 twentieth year, was following the practice of the 
 higher aristocracy of his age, and endeavouring to 
 enlarge his mind by foreign travel. In the following 
 probably exaggerated description it will bo seen that 
 he was far mistaken in his estimate of Hume's age. 
 
 " With this extraordinary man I was intimately 
 acquainted. He had kindly distinguished me from 
 among a number of young men, who were then at the 
 academy, and appeared so warmly attached to me, 
 that it was apparent he not only intended to honour 
 me with his friendship, but to bestow on me what 
 was, in his opinion, the first of all favours and bene- 
 fits, by making me his convert and disciple. 
 
 " Nature, I believe, never formed any man more 
 unlike his real character than David Hume. The 
 powers of physiognomy were baffled by his countenance ; 
 neither could the most skilful in that science, pretend 
 to discover the smallest trace of the faculties of his 
 mind, in the unmeaning features of his visage. His 
 face was broad and fat, his mouth wide, and without 
 any other expression than that of imbecility. His 
 eves vacant and spiritless, and the corpulence of his
 
 .i.i. .-.; 
 
 JOURNAL. TURIN. 
 
 271 
 
 whole person, was far better fitted to communicate 
 tlie idea of a turtle-eating alderman, than of a refined 
 philosopher. 1 1 is speech in Publish was rendered 
 ridiculous by the broadest Scotch accent, and his 
 i rencli was. if possible, still more laughable ; so that 
 wisdom most certainly never disguised hersidf before 
 in ni uncouth a garb. Though now near fifty years 
 old. he was healthy and strong: but his health and 
 -tivngth, far from being advantageous to his figure, 
 in-tead of manly comeliness, had only the aj>jtearanee 
 of rusticity. His wearing an uniform added greatly 
 to his natural awkwardness, for he wore it like a 
 grocer of the trained bands. Sinclair was a lieutenant- 
 general, and was sent to the courts of \ ienna and 
 Turin, as a military envoy, to see that their <juota of 
 troops was furnished by the Austrians and 1'ied- 
 unmtese. It was therefore thought nece.-sary that 
 hi.> secretary should appear to be an ollicer. and Hume 
 v as accordingly disguised in scarlet." ' 
 
 < IIAPTPU VII 
 
 7ls 
 
 .i. :7 lo. 
 
 ! ' ;i..;i i' tlir '" I iii[ii;ry ci'invrnini; 1 1 11:1:111 t n^ I < i"~ t :i : 1 ii'i_' " Vc 
 
 \\ '.. I ...tr::..' ..f V-,-. it y 1 il 1 mi M;r 1, \ .-. 
 
 I : : ill- ' I! y . \I .nil iml l'..lit:.':il" !!. .'.].: mi ..ft!.. . I' 
 
 l; turn II. mi" II - M : : r" Or itli ill 'I' ' 1 ' ' 
 
 I : w til I ':. ( : .;!. !!. - i: irth'l'l ill.' I :: | 
 
 '11:' ,i:i."i- I'ri. ti.'.il ; ..k.'- in .'..iiiK'xi..ii with tli.' N\". 
 II. .m.' Th.. U.'iliii in'- IVtii 
 
 ll.\ r I. v in the year 1 7 18. and while he was mi hi-, 
 wav to Turin. Hume's Philosophical P a\< eon- 
 
 M-in-ir- ..I' th.. IMitir.il an. 
 < 'I ,'.. .in.. nt. Iiv l-'rttn. 
 
 : .1 <
 
 272 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740. 
 
 corning Human Understanding," 1 which he afterwards 
 styled " Inquiry concerning Human Understanding," 
 were published anonymously in London. The pre- 
 paration of this work had probably afforded him a 
 much larger share of genuine pleasure, than either 
 the excitement of travelling, or the observation of the 
 natural scenery, the works of art, and the men and 
 manners amono- which he moved. In the tone of a 
 true philosophical enthusiast, he says in the first 
 section of the work, " Were there no advantage to be 
 reaped from these studies beyond the gratification of 
 an innocent curiosity, yet ought not even this to be 
 despised, as being an accession to those few safe and 
 harmless pleasures which are bestowed on the human 
 race. The sweetest and most inoffensive path of life 
 leads through the avenues of science and learning; 
 and whoever can either remove any obstructions in 
 tills way, or open up any new prospect, ought so far 
 to be esteemed a benefactor to mankind. And though 
 these researches may appear painful and fatiguing, it 
 is with some minds as with some bodies, which being- 
 endowed with vigorous and florid health, require 
 
 1 " By the author of The Essays Moral and Political," 8vo. 
 Printed for Andrew Millar. Hume's complaints about the obscurity 
 of all his books anterior to the "Political Discourses" and the 
 History, seem to be confirmed by the absence of this Edition in 
 places where such books are expected to be found. It is not in 
 The Advocates' or The Signet libraries in Edinburgh, nor is it (o 
 be found in the catalogues of the British Museum or Bodleyan. 
 Did I not possess the book, I might have found it difficult to obtain 
 an authenticated copy of the title-page. It is not mentioned in 
 Watt's Bibliotheea ; but it will be found correctly set forth in a 
 German bibliographical work, infinitely superior to any we possess 
 in this country, but unfortunately not completed. Addling' s 
 Supplement to .Tochers Allgemeines Gelehrtcn Lexicon. It ap- 
 pears in the Gentleman's Mtn/azine, list of books for April.
 
 .Ki. .17. 
 
 IMil'IKV, \. 
 
 severe exercise, and reap a pleasure from what, to the 
 generality of mankind, may seem l)urdensoine and 
 laborious." 
 
 < n the publication of this work, he says in his "own 
 life," " I had always entertained a notion, that my 
 want of success in publishing the ' Treatise of Human 
 Nature.' had proceeded more from the manner than 
 the matter, and that 1 had been guilty of a very usual 
 indiscretion, in LToing to the press too earl)'. I, there- 
 fore, cast the tirst part of that work anew in the 
 'Inquiry concerning Human Fadci'standine;.' which 
 was published while I was at Turin. I Jut this piece' 
 was at first little more successful than the 'Treatise 
 of Human Nature.' < hi my return from Italy. 1 had 
 the mortification to find all Falkland in a ferment, 
 on account of Mr. Middleton's ' Five Inquiry.' 1 
 while my performance was entirely overlooked and 
 neglected." 
 
 He now de>iivd that the "Treatise of Human Nature" 
 should be treated as a work blotted out of literature, 
 and that the Inquiry" should be substituted in its 
 plaee. In the subsequent editions of the latter work, 
 
 he complained that this had not 1 n complied with; 
 
 that the world still looked at those forbidden volumes 
 of which he had dictated the suppression. Ibnee- 
 forth." he .-ays. "the author desires that the following 
 pi"C .> may alone be regarded as containine; his philo- 
 sophical principles and sentiments:" and he hecani" 
 eloquent on the uncandidness of brinu'iiu; before the 
 
 : "A I'i-'H- I ip i n:r v in; 1 1 tin' luinic'ilei!- p-.w rr-. wl.:r!i :nv . \>\ 
 ! h;i\ i' - :;1 >-:-: ! in tin* ( 'hri-t ian ( 'h'; pai. |V, >:,;,.,,,,- a _. - 
 t ! ; i < i ; ; _ ; i -i'vrr;il -ucrr--ivc ccnturir-." |.\ Cmiivi':-- M ah: ' ' .... |).|>. 
 I.un.l'.n. I 7 ls-17 l:i. m. 
 
 I ! \v;i~ (MMMiniliTnl li V II ]>e!t', t< I ,;::.. a!H . !' < ' ! : ,.\ . I Hal tract-. 
 
 which till all the 1 k l'i-t- ef the tilll". 
 
 VOL 1. I
 
 274 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 world as the sentiments of any author, a work written 
 almost in boyhood, and printed at the threshold of 
 manhood. But it was all in vain : he had to learn 
 that the world takes possession of all that has passed 
 through the gates of the printing press, and that 
 neither the command of despotic authority, nor the 
 solicitations of repentant authorship can reclaim it, if 
 it be matter of sterling value. The bold and original 
 speculations of the " Treatise " have been, and to all 
 appearance ever will be, part of the intellectual pro- 
 perty of man ; great theories have been built upon 
 them, which must be thrown down before we can 
 raze the foundation. That he repented of having 
 published the work, and desired to retract its extreme 
 doctrines, is part of the mental biography of Hume; 
 but it is impossible, at his command, to detach this 
 book from general literature, or to read it without 
 remembering who was its author. 
 
 But, indeed, there were pretty cogent reasons why 
 the philosophical world, and Hume's opponents in 
 particular, should not lose sight of his early work. 
 In the Inquiry, he did not revoke the fundamental doc- 
 trines of his first work. The elements of all thought 
 and knowledge he still found to be in impressions and 
 ideas. But he did not on this occasion carry out his 
 principles with the same reckless hardihood that had 
 distinguished the Treatise ; and thus he neither on the 
 one side gave so distinct and striking a view of his 
 system, nor on the other afforded so strong a hold to 
 his adversaries. This hold they were resolved not to 
 lose ; and therefore they retained the original bond, 
 and would not accept of the offered substitute. 
 
 Of those views which are more fully developed in 
 the Inquiry than in the early work, one of the most 
 important is the attempt to establish the doctrine of
 
 .Hi. :,:. 
 
 DOCTRINE OF NIXESSITY 
 
 necessity, and to refute that of free will in relation to 
 the springs of human action. To those who adopted 
 the vulvar notion of Llunie's theory of cause and effect, 
 that it left the phenomena of nature without a ruling 
 principle, the attempt to -how that the human mind 
 was bound hy necessary laws appeared to he a start- 
 ling inconsistency a sort of reversal of the poet's 
 
 Aii'l l>in<iin_r natuiv la - 1 in fa to, 
 Lrft l'nv the human will. 
 
 It appeared to remove the chains of necessity from 
 inanimate nature, and rivet them on the will. 
 
 Hut there is a decided principle of connexion be- 
 tween the two doctrines: whether or not it: be a 
 principle that will bear scrutiny, is another (piestion. 
 Tim t wo systmns arc identified w ith each other, -iniplv 
 by th" annihilation of the notion of power both in 
 the i ' ;! and in the immaterial world. As we 
 
 cannot find in physical causes any power to produce 
 
 ir clfect, so when a man moves his arm to -tribe. 
 tongue te reprimand, w have no notion of anv 
 jii, /'-,/ lieim; exercised; but we have an impression 
 that certain impulses are followed, and we can no 
 more .-appose that it was at the choice of the indivi- 
 dual whether, when these impulses or motives existed, 
 they should or should not be obeyed, than that when 
 phenomenon called in the material world the 
 cause, made its appearance, there could be any doubt 
 of its beiiiLi' followed by the effect. The inference 
 from this was. that human action- are a- much the 
 objects of inductive philosophy as the operations of 
 nature; that they are e<piall\ regular, died follow- 
 ing cause as much in the operations of the passions 
 as in those of the (dements. ( >f the applic 'tiou of the
 
 27G THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 theory to his historical observation of events, the 
 following passage is a vivid enunciation : 
 
 " It is universally acknowledged, that there is a 
 great uniformity among the actions of men, in all 
 nations and ages, and that human nature remains still 
 the same in its principles and operations. The same 
 motives always produce the same actions ; the same 
 events follow from the same causes. Ambition, 
 avarice, self-love, vanity, friendship, generosity, public 
 spirit ; these passions, mixed in various degrees, and 
 distributed through society, have been, from the begin- 
 ning of the world, and still are, the source of all the 
 actions and enterprises which have ever been observed 
 among mankind. Would you know the sentiments, 
 inclinations, and course of life of the Greeks and 
 Romans ? study well the temper and actions of the 
 French and English : you cannot be much mistaken 
 in transferring to the former most of the observations 
 which you have made with regard to the latter. 
 Mankind are so much the same, in all times and places, 
 that history informs us of nothing new or strange in 
 this particular. Its chief use is only to discover the 
 constant and universal principles of human nature, by 
 showing men in all varieties of circumstances and 
 situations, and furnishing us with materials from 
 which we may form our observations, and become 
 acquainted with the regular springs of human action 
 and behaviour. These records of wars, intrigues, 
 factions, and revolutions, are so many collections of 
 experiments, by which the politician or moral philo- 
 sopher lixes the principles of his science, in the same 
 manner as the physician or natural philosopher be- 
 comes acquainted with the nature of plants, minerals, 
 and other external objects, by the experiments which 
 lie forms concerning them. Nor are the earth, water,
 
 .Va. .'<7 
 
 F"i trim; hi- \|.;< KSSI'I'V. 
 
 and other elements, examined by Aristotle and 1 1 i j>j i<>- 
 erates, more like to those which at present lie under 
 our observation, than the men described hv I'olvbius. 
 and Tacitus are to those who now govern the world. 
 
 'Should a traveller, returning from a tar country, 
 Itrin^ us an account of men wholly dill'erent from any 
 with whom we were ever acquainted, men who wen: 
 entiridy divested of avarice, ambition, or revenue, who 
 knew no pleasure but friend-hip. generosity, and 
 public spirit. Ave should immediately, from these cir- 
 cumstances, detect the falsehood, and prove him a 
 liar, with the same certainty as if he had stuffed his 
 narration with stories of centaurs and dragons, miracles 
 and prodigies. And if we would explode any forovry 
 in history, we cannot make use of a more convincing 
 argument than to prove, that the actions ascribed to 
 any person are directly contrary to the course of 
 nature, and that no human motives, in such circum- 
 stances, could ever induce him to >\:c\i a couduc . 
 Tli" veracity of < v >uintus ( 'urtius is as much to be >u - 
 pected. when he describes the supernatural courage 
 of Alexander, by which he was hurried on .-iu-]v to 
 attack multitudes, as when he describes his siiper- 
 natural force and activity, by which he was able to 
 resist them. So readily and universally do we acknow- 
 ledge a uniformity in human motives and action-, as 
 well as in the operations of body. 
 
 ' Hence, likewise, the benefit of that experience, 
 acquired by lone.' life and a variety of bu-me-s and 
 company, in order to instruct us in the principle- of 
 human nature, and regulate onr future conduct, as 
 well as speculation. 1 >y menu- of this euide u v niount 
 up to the knowledge of men's incli nation- and motives, 
 from their actions, expressions, and even evstures; 
 and auain descend to the interpretation of their
 
 278 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 actions, from our knowledge of their motives and in- 
 clinations. The general observations, treasured up 
 by a course of experience, give us the clue of human 
 nature, and teach us to unravel all its intricacies. 
 Pretexts and appearances no longer deceive us. Pub- 
 lic declarations pass for the specious colouring of a 
 cause. And though virtue and honour be allowed 
 their proper weight and authority, that perfect disin- 
 terestedness, so often pretended to, is never expected 
 in multitudes and parties, seldom in their leaders, and 
 scarcely even in individuals of any rank or station. 
 But were there no uniformity in human actions, and 
 were every experiment, which we could form of this 
 kind, irregular and anomalous, it were impossible to 
 collect any general observations concerning mankind ; 
 and no experience, however accurately digested by 
 reflection, would ever serve to any purpose. Why is 
 the aged husbandman more skilful in his calling than 
 the young beginner, but because there is a certain 
 uniformity in the operation of the sun, rain, and earth, 
 towards the production of vegetables ; and experience 
 teaches the old practitioner the rules by which this 
 operation is governed and directed ? " a 
 
 How very clearly we find these principles practi- 
 cally illustrated in his History ! A disinclination to 
 believe in the narratives of great and remarkable deeds 
 proceeding from peculiar impulses : a propensity, when 
 the evidence adduced in their favour cannot be rebutted, 
 to treat these peculiarities rather as diseases of the 
 mind, than as the operation of noble aspirations : a 
 levelling disposition to find all men pretty much upon 
 a par, and none in a marked manner better or worse 
 than their neighbours : an inclination to doubt all 
 1 Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, .sect", viii.
 
 .Ki. :>-,. 
 
 |)()("iui.m:s on miuacu;.* 
 
 authorities which tended to prove that the British 
 people had any fundamental liberties nut possessed by 
 tin.' I reach ami other Kuropean nations. Such arc 
 tlw practical fruits oi" this necessitarian philosophy. 
 
 It was on this occasion that i I nine promulgated 
 t \. '<-' opinions upon miracle-, which we have found 
 him afraid to make public even in that work of which 
 1..' afterwards regretted the bold and rash character. 
 No part oi' Lis writings u'ave mere oll'ence to serious 
 and d'-\"oiit thinkers: but the oll'ence was in the inan- 
 n r <d" the prom uluat ion. not the matter of the opinions. 
 To understand how this occurred, let us cast a u'lance 
 for a moment at two opposite classes of religious 
 thinkers, into which a hii'u'e portion of the ('hri-tian 
 world i- divided, and find with which, if wiih i-ithi r. 
 1 1 u 1 n e " > opinion.- coincide. 
 
 if we -appose ;i man. impressed with a feeling of 
 d \u . n an 1 reverence for a Superior l>ein^. who, 
 >"eiu- in the order of the world and all its movements. 
 the omnipot nt. all-wi-e. and all-merciful guidance of 
 a ili\ ine I Vo\ id"iie '. believe- that the ( ireal I eine; will 
 Li'ive to his creatures no revelation that is not in accord- 
 ance with the merciful harmony of all his wa\s; and 
 thus devoutly and subini-.-ively receives the word of 
 (lod a- promulgated in the iJihlo; attempts to make it 
 tin.' rule of his actions and 0] union. s : receives with d< fe- 
 rencc the \icws id' those whom the ,-anie power that 
 authorized it. has permitted to be the human iu.-tru- 
 ii i it- of it > promulgation and explanat ion ; tries to 
 and' i'.-tand what it is within the power of hi- I 
 
 s to comprehend : but. implicit 1\ hi li.'vi::-' that 
 in the shadows of those mysteries which lie i- imaMe 
 to penetrate, there lie operations -- completely part of 
 one e - real regular plan. a- merciful, a- beueiicent. and 
 as wi.-e as the outward and comprehensible acts of
 
 280 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 Providence ; who thus never for one moment allows 
 his mind to doubt, where it is unable to comprehend 
 or explain such a man finds none of his sentiments 
 in the writings of Hume, for he is at once told there 
 that reason and revelation are two disconnected things, 
 that each must act alone, and that the one derives no 
 aid from the other. 
 
 But take one who believes that religion is too sacred 
 to be in any way allied with so poor and miserable a 
 thing as erring human reason ; who feels that it is 
 not in himself to merit any of the boundless mercies 
 of the atonement; and that to endeavour by his actions, 
 or the direction of his thoughts, to be made a partici- 
 pator in them, is but setting blind reason to lead the 
 blind appetites and desires ; who feels that by no 
 act of his own, the true light of the Christian religion 
 lias been lighted within him as by a miracle ; who 
 has been adopted by a sudden change in his spiritual 
 nature into the family of the faithful then there is 
 nothing in all Hume's philosophy to militate against 
 the religion of such a man, but rather many arguments 
 in its favour, both implied and expressed. 
 
 Since this is the case, it may be asked, why, if one 
 [tarty in religion attacked the opinions of Hume, 
 another did not defend them ? why. if Beattie and 
 Warburton couched the lance, Whitefield and John 
 Krskine did not come forward as his champions? Jn 
 the first place, it was only those who united reason 
 and revelation as going hand in hand and aiding 
 each other, that looked at books of philosophy with 
 an eye to their influence on religion, and such works 
 formed a department of literature in which the advo- 
 cates of "eternal decrees'' would not expect to find 
 much to suit their purpose. But, in the second place, 
 this class of religious thinkers arc all, except the few
 
 .Ki. .17. 
 
 DOC I'll I \KS ON MIKAfLK: 
 
 2SI 
 
 who are hypocrites, devout and serious people, and 
 Hume's method of treating tliese subjects was not 
 sucli as they could fuel a sympathy with. A want of 
 proper deference for devotional feeling, is a defect 
 that runs through all his works -a constitutional 
 organic defect it niiejlit he termed. There is no 
 rihaldry. hut at the same time there are no expressions 
 of decent reverence ; while this religious party knew 
 from the manner in which their predecessors in the 
 .-;tme doctrines were historically treated I v Iliiine, 
 that if there were any coincidence in abstract opinions, 
 there was very little in common between their sympa- 
 thies and his. 
 
 In this same section on miracles, there are repeated 
 protects against the reader assuming that the writer 
 is ai'Li'uin^ ae.ain.-t the Christian faith. Against some 
 ('atholic miracles, which Were u.-serted to be proved 
 !>y te-timoiiy a-> strong as that which atte.-ted the 
 miracles of t.ur Saviour, he .-ays, '" As if the testinionv 
 of man coul i ever be put in the balance with that of 
 tied him.- -If. who conducted the pen of the inspired 
 ;- ' and a-j'ain, " < >ur most holy religion is 
 founded on ///////, not on reason : and it is a sure 
 method of exposing it to put it to Mich a trial as i; 
 i - by no mean- fitted to endure." The..e protests how - 
 i'Vi r wen.' made brietly and coldly, and in such a manner 
 : - made people feel, that if Hume believed in the doe- 
 \ aunoiiiieed. he certainly had not hi- In-art 
 in them. 1 Ience. although, since the origin of rat ioiial- 
 i.-m. evangelical ( 'hri.-tian.- have frequent ly had recourse 
 to the arguments of 1 1 nine, there wa- lone; in t hat ipiar- 
 i; r a not unnatural reluctance to appeal to them. 
 
 It i> perhaps one of the mo-; remarkable warning- 
 ae.ain.-t ha-tv judgments on the cif-et- ol ellort- of 
 ubtle reasoning:, that, according to later .-cientitie
 
 282 T1IK LIF E OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 discoveries, no two things are in more perfect 
 unison than Hume's theory of belief in miracles, and 
 the belief that miracles, according to the common 
 acceptation of the term, have actually taken place. 
 The leading principle of this theory is, in confor- 
 mity with its author's law of cause and effect, that 
 where our experience has taught us that two things 
 follow each other as cause and effect by an unvarying 
 sequence, if we hear of an instance in which this has 
 not been the case, we ought to doubt the truth of the 
 narrative. In other words, if we are told of some 
 circumstance having taken place out of the usual 
 order of nature, we ought not to believe it ; because 
 the circumstance of the narrator having been deceived, 
 or of his designedly telling a falsehood, is more probable 
 than an event contradictory to all previous authenti- 
 cated experience. It is a rule for marking the 
 boundary and proper application of the inductive 
 system, and one that is highly serviceable to science. 
 But, in applying it to use, we must not be led away 
 by the narrow application, in common conversation, of 
 the word experience. There is the experience of the 
 common workman, and there is the experience of the 
 philosopher. There is that observation of phenomena 
 which makes a, ditcher know that the difficulty of 
 pulling out a loosened stone with a mattock indicates 
 it to be so many inches thick ; and that observation, 
 fuljv as sure, which shows the geologist that the 
 stratum of the Pen n sylvan iau grauwacke is upwards of 
 a hundred miles thick. The experience and observation 
 of the husbandman teacli him, that when the opposite 
 hill is distinct to his view, the intervening atmosphere 
 is not charged with vapour; but observation, not less 
 satisfactory, shows the astronomer that .Jupiter and 
 the Moon have around them no atmosphere sue!) as
 
 .-Kr. 
 
 [HKTRINKS ON MIR.ULKS. 
 
 >.s:j 
 
 that hy which our planet is enveloped. Now tliero is 
 nothing more fully founded on experimental oh.-rrva- 
 tion tlian the fact, that there was a time when the 
 pri -nt order of tlie world was not in existence. That 
 1 1 1 < r have heen convulsions, such as, did we now 
 lie;ir of their content porary occurrence, instead of 
 aft* -ih_ their j;i -t existence through the .-tire course 
 of i >!>.-. t\ a* ion and induct inn, we would at once maintain 
 to h in:]H..->ihil . To this then, and this only, comes 
 1: theory of miracles, that at tin 1 present day, and 
 for a Lfivat many year- lack, the accounts, that are 
 Liiven of cireum.-tances having taken phu'e out of the 
 general order of nature, are to he discredited, lieeau.se 
 hi'twe li the two things to he helicved, the falstdiood 
 of the narrative is more likely than the truth of tlw 
 occurronce. lint the very mean.- ly which we arrive 
 at thi- conclu-ion Irinv.' us to another, that there was 
 a tine to which the rale- taken from pre-ent ohserva- 
 ti"n of cour.-e of nut are did not apply. 1 
 
 Thai in hi-tory. in .-ch-neo, in the eon duct of every - 
 
 life, and particularly in the formation of the 
 
 mind- of the you lie;, this rale of lelief is of tic 
 
 l;_'. ' practical utility, few will dotiht. The pari.-h 
 
 (dei'jN man. who a-sists in throw in u disen dit on all t! 
 
 la- niatt>T -iTin- "ii ;ui"UifT "la-a-ii'ii I" liasr }:. -- a in; 
 I ' : > " I )..i ' _'.'- ' Nai si nil 1 1 ] _ 
 
 ii 
 
 ' I" 
 
 , v _ -i ; > 1 1 _- ana alii.' ' nte-talm' ]: 
 
 I " i ' ' it tin- v. |.i.|i' i arili. tl.al r\ i-i v pari <[ tl 
 
 ' I' n m v a _i i n! '.':'. v < '\ .!''! \\ !' li v. a' : . \ 1 ! 
 "i''i r v i i]'|u,-, ,| In . | >:i t:i 1 >! tVi in main 
 
 ' ' ma \ n.aOi-r l'i' -n - - * j > I ililc nf maiiv aini ' ' 
 
 I : i.l" annul .:;;::. e :.." 'I ' 
 
 II i . ; i: : t -i 1 1 niaki - a!!i ,\\ aia r l' i 
 
 er "ii.. r r\;-!i .1. ai.'l il.a! il ran i n'.\ I ' ' ' ' 
 
 tat.'iiiri:! i.f an ma !'' '' '-:i| "!i 
 
 u liicli ( 'aiiipl'.'ll w i.'lil- villi ' : . > :: '! in !> ii'lini: ;:).:> A. r- 
 ' ' . in
 
 284 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 superstitious stories of spectres, witchcrafts, and 
 demoniacal possessions with which his neighbourhood 
 may be afflicted, is but an active promulgator of the 
 doctrine. It was a narrow view that Campbell 
 adopted when he said, that if we heard of a ferry 
 boat, which had long crossed the stream in safety, 
 having sunk, we would give credit to the testimony 
 concerning it. 1 Our experience teaches us that ferry 
 boats are made of perishable materials, liable to be 
 submerged ; and thus, in this case, there is no balance 
 of incredibility against the narrator. To have tried 
 Campbell's practical faith in Hume's theory, lie should 
 have had before him a person professing to have become 
 aware of the sinking of the boat, by some unprecedented 
 means of perception, called a magnetic influence, in the 
 absence of a more distinct name ; while it is shown that 
 the same person had an opportunity of being informed, 
 through the organs of hearing, of the circumstance 
 which had taken place. It would then be seen, 
 whether that sagacious philosopher would have given 
 the sanction of his belief to a phenomenon contrary to 
 all previous experience the ascertainment of an 
 external event, without the aid of the senses ; or 
 would have acceded to the too commonly illustrated 
 
 1 " Let us try how his manner of argument on this point can ho 
 applied to ;i particular instance. For this purpose [ make the 
 following supposition. I have lived for some years near a ferry. 
 It consists with my knowledge that the passage boat has a thousand 
 times crossed the river, and as many times returned safe. An 
 unknown man, whom I have just now met, tells me in a serious 
 manner that it is lost; and affirms, that he himself, standing on 
 the bank, was a spectator of the scene; that he saw the passengers 
 carried down the stream and the boat overwhelmed. No person, 
 who is influenced in his judgment of things, not by philosophical 
 subtleties, but by common sense, a much surer guide, will hesitate 
 to declare, that in .such a testimony I have probable evidence of 
 the fact asserted." Dissertation on Miracles, 46-47.
 
 .Ivr. ."7. 
 
 I'<(TUINF.S <>N MIHACLi: 
 
 2s: 
 
 phenomenon, that human beings arc capable of false- 
 hood and folly. 
 
 It is much to hi- regretted that Iluiiic employed 
 tic word miracles in the title of this inquiry, lie 
 thus employed a term which had been applied to 
 sacred subjects, and raised a natural prejudice against 
 reasonings, applicable to contemporary events, and to 
 the rules dt' ordinary historical hidief. He mi^ht 
 have found some other title such as. "The Principles 
 of IJrlief in Human Testimony," which would have 
 more satisfactorily explained the nature of the impiiry. 
 1 5ut it is not improbable that the odium thus occa- 
 sioned first introduced Hume's philosophical works to 
 controversial notoriety. Though disappointed l>y the 
 silence of the public immediately on his arrival from 
 ahroad. he has soon to t<'ll us in his "own life," 
 Meanwhile, my hooksellcr, A. Millar, informed me, 
 that my former publications (all but the unfortunate 
 Treati>ei were ho^i lining to be the subject of conver- 
 t ion ; that the sale of them was gradually increasing, 
 and thai new editions were demanded. . \ih\vo'- by 
 revei-uids and riirht reverends came out two and three 
 in a vear: ' and I found, by \\ arburton's railinu", that 
 
 the books were be^innin^ to be esteemed in <j; 1 
 
 eoinpany." -' 
 
 1 I*. ill i]. ill i arli.-l in .l;it.- .!' ll,.-i' i-, An I .- :iv mi Mr. 
 M ,: ' I. i\ - ii .Mini. !.-.- |,v William A. lam-. M.A .] 
 llif Hi ' -]. .-I' l.lainla!]'. I 7 .*, I . 
 
 '" W'arl'111'l..n -ay- In 1 1 niM. mi -Jm!i >,;,;, ml,, r. i;i:i. - 1 am 
 I'l.'.l t>> li:i . i' a -' rnki' al 11 mm in pa- ./. I ! i- i '<. 
 , h k rall.M I'hil. plii.al I' .\ ; . :.. | 
 
 airain-l tin- In ii: 1 <! a < i. I . : i ; i I it: : : V 
 
 ii 1 1 < I \" Voii u ill -a v. ) a_ r aii)-I tin' j .< . 1 1 > " I i : v !" i . lie 
 
 La- ci'nwiii'il tin- liliiTt V of th.> ]>r>-- : ami Vet imaMo 
 
 |'o-t uinl.T tin- L'ov.'ninirnt. I I : : i \ a l'1'< ' i: i !. ' '. n 
 lii- arLTUiii.'iit- a_'aiu-l minn-l* -. ulnrli I t ; .:... nii_'l.t \<>- >h<ur m a 
 t'.'sv \vonl-. I'n! ili r- ho ili '-.tn ! not ice ' I 1 < I-. tinu-ii anion _- v. u '
 
 286 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 It was iii the " Inquiry concerning the Human 
 Understanding," that Hume promulgated the theory 
 of association, which called forth so much admiration 
 of its simplicity, beauty, and truth. " To me," he 
 says, "there appear to be only three principles of 
 connexion among ideas, namely, Resemblance, Conti- 
 guity in time or place, and Cause or Effect. 
 
 " That these principles serve to connect ideas, will 
 not, I believe, be much doubted. A picture naturally 
 leads our thoughts to the original [Resemblance.] 
 The mention of one apartment in a building, naturally 
 introduces an inquiry or discourse concerning the 
 others [Contiguity :] and if we think on a wound, 
 we can scarcely forbear reflecting on the pain which 
 follows it [Cause and Effect.]" 1 
 
 In connexion with this theory a curious charge has 
 been brought forward by Coleridge, who says, " In 
 consulting the excellent commentary of St. Thomas 
 Aquinas, on the Parva Naturalia of Aristotle, I was 
 struck at once with its close resemblance to Hume's 
 essay on association. The main thoughts were the 
 same in both. The order of the thoughts was the 
 same, and even the illustrations differed only by Hume's 
 occasional substitution of more modern examples. I 
 mentioned the circumstance to several of my literary 
 acquaintances, who admitted the closeness of the re- 
 semblance, and that it seemed too great to be explained 
 by mere coincidence ; but they thought it improbable 
 that Hume should have held the pages of the angelic 
 doctor worth turning over. But some time after, 
 Air. Payne of the King's Mews, showed Sir James 
 
 Pray answer these questions. For if his own weight keeps him 
 down, I should be sorry to contribute to his advancement to any 
 place but the pillory." Letters from a late Rev. prelate to one of 
 his friends. 1808, p. 1 1 . ' Sect. iii.
 
 .Ki.:;7. Aiil'IXAS' THKORY < >!' ASSOl'I ATM.X. o s - 
 
 Mackintosh some odd volumes of St. Thomas Aquinas, 
 [tartly perhaps from having heard that Sir dames, (then 
 Mr. Mackintosh.) had in his hrtures passed a hi -oh 
 ( ncomium on this ennoni/.ed philosopher, hut chiefly 
 t'roin the fact that the volumes had belor.e'd to Mr. 
 ILumc. ;md had hero and there marginal marks and 
 notes til' reference in his own handw riling. Anioinj; 
 th">e volumes was that which contains the I'arva 
 Naturalia. in the old Latin version, swathed and 
 -waddh'd in the commentary aforementioned." 
 
 On this. Sir dames Macintosh says, that "the 
 manuscript of a part of Aquinas, which I Loueht 
 manv years au'o. (on the faith of a bookseller's cata- 
 logue.) as koine; written hy Mr. Ilume. was not a copy 
 of the commentary on the I'tirra .\ntn rnlin. hat of 
 Aquinas's own S> rn,i<hi S> r//,n/ f /- ; and that, on exami- 
 nation, it proves not to be th handwriting of Mr. 
 I lane, and to contain nothing written hy him." 1 So 
 much for tie external evidence of plaoiari -:a. 
 
 With r-eard to th" internal evident- >. tie pa aee 
 :' Aquinas particularly referred to. which ".ill he 
 found h-low." refers to neniory imi ima^inal i"U : to 
 thi- recall of imaees in the lvlation to ece-h other in 
 which th'-v have once had a idace in the mind, not to 
 
 ! 1'ivlii.ii:: ny I >': , oat: in. Ne..' T. 
 
 ' " < J . ;. : . - ! ' ' !' ' : ! o i i - i ' ' i r :il a, a - i;aa] '< \. - il > ai ;. ( aa i . i . ' , 
 : '.'.:. :; > | u t | >i'. 'co.lit a<l ;iliiuu t r i ; . ! i o i r: ; * o o i -. < v >a 
 
 ii.: 1 !' al ;!' :-. -irat 'I'aaial' > : 1 1 : j ' ; : - na" ' . 
 
 . ]" r line, nvirr:! <] Plain. j ' i i i ~ t : , :'.'< : j 
 
 \ i in lo t i i o r< .'.n rai i-ae ' . inn a aii i , in : 
 
 i ri-.r; ]" r Imr i r.'iirrit >] Aehil!,-. <J 
 
 I ai! a 1 ruju-'ani'iiii'. -iciii rain a i i ' . ' 
 
 |'.t In"' << aaaat n !i!i:o. lit ra-l.-n rati .:! 
 ]: \ !!ii|iiii:ni-. \ .'1 - .ri.-et o, \ .'1 Im-i, \ i ' ' i : r i 
 
 lit i i to, ini- i'imiI ia ' jiiai i:i' : a- !. ' .' i ' a. M .:."--- 
 
 A./'iiu.H'ts I ',,w>,\, i,i. u, A,-',,-'-'. I- .'/ ' /.' -. ', ', i . 
 
 lit. /'//;,. 1 eon. ,,. ,:i. 'I'll.- <-! t A. i ' nanaik- !,.,-,,
 
 288 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748. 
 
 the formation of new associations, or aggregates of 
 ideas there ; nor will it bring the theories to an iden- 
 tity, that, according to Hume's doctrine, nothing can be 
 recalled in the mind unless its elements have already 
 been deposited there in the form of ideas, because the 
 observations of Aquinas apply altogether to the remi- 
 niscence of aggregate objects. But the classification 
 is different : for Hume's embodies cause and effect, 
 but not contrariety ; while that of Aquinas has con- 
 trariety, but not cause and effect. In a division into 
 three elements, this discrepancy is material ; and, 
 without entering on any lengthened reasoning, it may 
 simply be observed, that the merit of Hume's classifi- 
 cation is. that it is exhaustive, and neither contains 
 any superfluous element, nor omits any principle under 
 which an act of association can be classed. 
 
 But it is remarkable that Coleridge should have 
 failed to keep in view, in his zeal to discover some 
 curious thing to reward him for his researches among 
 the fathers, that the classification is not that of 
 Aquinas, but of Aristotle, and is contained in the 
 very work on which the passage in Aquinas is one of 
 the many commentaries. 1 
 
 The " Essays Moral and Political," had, though it is 
 
 more reference to mnemonics or artificial memory than to associa- 
 tion. They explain Low a man, remembering what he did yesterday, 
 may pass to the remembrance of what he did the day before, Sec. 
 
 1 See Dr. Brown's commentary on the history of theories of 
 association, in his thirty-fourth Lecture, Sir William Hamilton, 
 the highest living authority on these subjects, while he thinks that 
 Aristotle has not got justice for the extent to which he has antici- 
 pated Hume and others in relation to this matter, does not think 
 there is the slightest ground for the charge of plagiarism, and 
 observes to me that Coleridge's own remarks on association are 
 morel v an adaptation from the German of Maas.
 
 .I'.r. :;;. 
 
 J'.SSAYS .M(KAI. AND POLITICAL. 
 
 U-Sii 
 
 not mentioned by 1 1 mm' in his "own life," been so 
 well received, that :i second edition appeared in 171'-'. 
 tin' same year in which tin' second volume of the 
 original edition was published. A third I'tlition was 
 published in London in 1718. ' of which lhiiiic.com- 
 pariiiL;- tin in with his inflected contemporaneous pub- 
 lication of tic Imjuirv, savs that tlc-y "met not with 
 a mindi h -tter r- < . ] >t ion." 
 
 Two es.>a\s, which had appeared in the previous 
 'd it ion-, wore omitted in the third. < hie of these. "< M 
 l.ssay Writing" was evidently written at the time 
 when the author had the design of publishing hisv. .>rh 
 periodically." and was meant as a prospectus or an- 
 nouncement to the reader.-, of the method in which he 
 proposed to address them in his periodical papers. 
 The otlcr was a " Character of Sir Uohert W'alpoh'i" 
 a curioas attempt to take an impartiaJ estimate of a 
 : who. at the time of the tii>t publication, had hern 
 1 < > j i u 1 in otliei'. aad was surrounded by a m>r" iiiiiih'- 
 loii- an I powerful band of enemies, than an;. piv\ious 
 Ihi'i-h - - ' -man. I'm! bi'tween the two publications 
 the enemies had triumphed : and t he statesman of I'orty 
 year- ha 1 been driven into retirement. \vh a d at!, 
 -peedily relieved him from a -cone of inaction, which 
 miu'li! have been repose to others, bat was t > him an 
 insupportable solitude. I 'arty rau'e had cnn-eojiienth 
 changed its direction, and that air of solemn delibera 
 tioii which, while the statesman was moving belwcm 
 the admiration of his friends and the hatred <>f his 
 eii'.iuics. had an ajipearance of resolute stoical impar- 
 tiality, miu'lit have appeared strained and alb 'ei.d. i! ' !. 
 essay had been republished in 17-N. 
 
 To this third edition three es-;:\ - i hied. 
 
 m... print. ! |'..r A. Miliar. I' ' ' : ' '-'/ '. 
 
 l',.r N, ^riiiln r. ' !':
 
 290 THE LTFE OF DAVID HUME. 1748-1749. 
 
 National Characters," " Of the Original Contract," and 
 " Of Passive Obedience." The first of these contains 
 some very curious incidental notices of ancient morals 
 and habits, so adapted to modern colloquial language 
 and habits, as to make the descriptions as clear to the 
 unlearned as to the learned; as, for example, the follow- 
 ing notices of the drinking practices of the ancients : 
 "The ancient Greeks, though born in a warm 
 climate, seem to have been much addicted to the 
 bottle ; nor were their parties of pleasure any thing 
 but matches of drinking among men. who passed their 
 time altogether apart from the fair. Yet when Alex- 
 ander lod the Greeks into Persia, a still more southern 
 climate, they multiplied their debauches of this kind. 
 in imitation of the Persian manners. 1 So honourable 
 was the character of a drunkard among the Persians, 
 that Cyrus the younger, soliciting tlte sober Lacede- 
 monians for succour against his brother Artaxerxes, 
 claims it chiefly on account of his superior endow- 
 ments, as more valorous, more bountiful, and a better 
 drinker. 2 Darius Hvstaspes made it be inscribed on 
 Iris tomb-stone, among his other virtues and princely 
 qualities, that no one could boar a greater quantity of 
 liquor." 
 
 The other two essays, though bearing on subjects 
 which have now almost dropped out of political dis- 
 cussion. "The Original Contract," and "Passive 
 Obedience," trod close on the heels of the long conflict 
 in which Milton, Salmasius, Ilobhcs, Sidney, Locke, 
 and Filmer, had been partakers; and while the din of 
 arms was far from being exhausted, they professed to 
 hold the balance equally between the combatants, or, 
 
 1 Babybrtm tna.fime in runm). cf </tci rhv'tctatem seqiiuntuv. 
 cfi'imi sunt. Quint. Cur. lib. v. cap. 1. 
 Pint. Syni]-. lib. i. fjiwst. 1.
 
 .!'.:. a7-a. 
 
 II IS MoTIIKk'S DKATII. 
 
 more properly speaking, to examine philosophically 
 
 the merits of tin- 1 1 cor v of each pari v. wit limit taking 
 
 iij) tin' aimry ar-une'iits of i-itli-T. Tlcy ar . in truth. 
 
 lmt a farther adaptation to polities of tie)-*' utilitarian 
 
 t li -oi-i< _-? wiiieli ilunc l:a 1 previously appli 1 ho ii to 
 
 private moral- and to Lt'ovi rnnu'iit. Ami tie. 1 principle 
 
 ilu'ato i<. that the citiz m's. allegiance to the 
 
 laws and eoustit utioii of his country, litis its proper 
 
 ion !:::: i L - in an acknowledgment of the 
 
 ne iijhi of any governor, nor in a c ntraet with 
 
 \ which lioth parties tire bound, hut in tl 
 
 duty of respecting internal peace and order, ami of 
 
 avoiding outbreaks which may plunge the jieople into 
 
 anareliy and mi-'ry, to gratify the pride or baser 
 
 pa--ioiis of t urbiilent individuals. 
 
 It ma-: ha\e been on his return on this occasion, 
 1 1 una.' rejoined the family circle 1 at Niiewi lis. 
 aw-d of 1 lie parent who- 1 devotion to his training 
 am he has -I. alleetiona' lv commemorated. 
 1 w.'iit down." he sa\s, in 17 l!'. and lived tun 
 mv bi'ot ]{)' at his c >u i! rv hoii- . for : \ 
 nioi Ipt 'w as now dead." in ah" L i -r, wiiic 
 o be ;ifi a-ward- ref.'iTeil to. by Mr. IJlack. to Adam 
 . written when liunie wa > on his a . " i,- 1 > 1. 
 . in relation to his final dine-.-, there is tic remark. 
 " ill- moth r. he >ays. "had preei-ely tic -a me en i- 
 . ' at a a with him- If. and died < a' this \ eiw di-ord ;." 
 Mi lid- -abject, the Anierietiu traveil r. s 
 Lave eurreiiey to a foolish and improbabh' - ^r . 
 he put - in t ic follow iau shape : 
 
 I ..'''';'.<' 
 
 ..<!. Il-l'l I III ill. I II 
 
 /'/', - 
 
 :i J- r 'ii in tlii' l.mk : ' . . . i : . ! N .': '< 
 I" a-'''.-r',;:ii th'.' [M-eej ,> ,1 ,-.-
 
 292 THE LTFE OF DAVID HUME. 1740-174!). 
 
 " It seems that Hume received a religious education 
 from his mother, and early in life was the subject of 
 strong and hopeful religious impressions ; but, as he 
 approached manhood, they were effaced, and confirmed 
 infidelity succeeded. Maternal partiality, however 
 alarmed at first, came at length to look with less and 
 less pain upon this declension, and filial love and 
 reverence seem to have been absorbed in the pride of 
 philosophical scepticism ; for Hum e now applied him- 
 self with unwearied, and unhappily with successful 
 efforts, to sap the foundation of his mother's faith. 
 Having succeeded in tin's dreadful work, he went 
 abroad into foreign countries : and as lie was returning, 
 an express met him in London, with a letter from his 
 mother, informing him that she was in a deep decline, 
 and could not long survive : she said, she found her- 
 self without any support in her distress ; that he had 
 taken away that source of comfort, m:>on which, in all 
 cases of affliction, she used to rely, and that now she 
 found her mind sinking into despair. She did not 
 doubt but her son would afford her some substitute 
 for her religion ; and she conjured him to hasten to 
 her, or at least to send her a letter, containing such 
 consolations as philosophy can afford to a dying 
 mortal. Hume was overwhelmed with anguish on 
 receiving this letter, and hastened to Scotland, travel- 
 ling day and night ; but before he arrived Ills mother 
 expired. No permanent impression seems, however, 
 to have been made on his mind by this most trying 
 event; and whatever remorse he might have felt at 
 the moment, he soon relapsed into his wonted obdu- 
 racy of heart." 
 
 This story, probably told after dinner, and invented 
 on the spot, the American narrator's unfortunate 
 mime perhaps rendering him peculiarly liable to the
 
 Kr. .*',; :: 
 
 Ml- M<>! il|.K> DKATH. 
 
 " i .' . 
 
 I n ; i c 1 1 i i j : 1 1 i < > 1 1 < of the mischievous is. totally at variance 
 with 1 1 nine's character. lie was no propagandist : and. 
 iinlecl, -M-iiis ever to have felt, that a firm faith in 
 ' 'Iiri-tiaiiity. unsh:ikcn hy any douhts, was an iuvaluahle 
 privilege, of which it would he as much more cruel to 
 dej.ri\e ;i fellow-creature than to roh him of his purse, 
 :is tie- one po-vsi-sMoii is more valuahle than the 
 other. Hence we shall find, that his conversation was 
 accejuahh' to women and to clergymen, who never 
 feared in his ju-eseiice to encounter any .sentiment 
 that miu'iit -hock their feelings: and what is more to 
 the point, parents were never afraid of trusting their 
 children to his cave and social attentions, and indeed 
 thought it a hi^li privilege to obtain them. 
 
 The aji]ieai'ance of the ahove pa-si^e in a notice of 
 ' Sillimaifs. Trav.d- " in /'/ (J"" ri> ,(// lt> //../-, called 
 forth a i a nee from I la run 1 1 nine, which elicit d 
 
 l .- at' nicm fv .in the editor : 
 
 "' I" at an cmi he has shown to he fnl- > lv un- 
 . and \>\ a circumstance related in 
 memoirs of t ii la' e I >r. ( 'arh !e. 
 i miueiit id ruyn.an of tic Scottish ( i.ureh. and friend 
 of the hi-torian. I'he circumstance, interesting in 
 it-df. a.ad >\<-r\ i\e uii t ii* Mihject, we tran-ciihe. in 
 1 he w ord.s oi' the manuscript, from t ii" h ' i ore 
 
 David a> el he (ti M . Hon. Mr. I'.oyle. hroth-r o| 
 the Karl of < ila-uow) wen: hoth in London ; ' the 
 
 i' 1 \\ 111 II I >a\id'.S IlKJthel- died. M 1\ I ',..;. I... 
 in j.' ol it. -mi. a af: a- went into his apari i 
 
 lodged iii the sail,*' hoilsC. where he found i : 
 
 de. pe>| atilietiou. and in a Hood of tear-. Af: 
 u-ual topic- of condohiice. Mi'. I'.oyle - - 1 i < I ]>i him. 
 ' Mv friend, vou owe this uneoiiiin"M Lire! t<> havine
 
 294 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1749. 
 
 thrown off the principles of religion ; for if you hud 
 not, you would have been consoled with the firm 
 belief that the good lady, who was not only the best 
 of mothers but the most pious of Christians, was com- 
 pletely happy in the realms of the just. 5 To which 
 David replied, ' Though I throw out my speculations 
 to entertain the learned and metaphysical world, yet, 
 in other things, I do not think so differently from the 
 rest of the world as you imagine.' " l 
 
 One of Hume's most intimate friends was Dr. Cle- 
 phane, a physician in considerable practice in London, 
 They appear to have become acquainted with each 
 
 1 There is a traditional anecdote, to the effect that Mrs, Hume, 
 expressing her opinion of her son David and his accomplishments, 
 said, ' Our Davie 's a fine good-natured crater, but uncommon 
 wake-minded." I have heard this adduced as a proof of the 
 philosopher's gentle, passive nature, and the effect it had in stamp- 
 ing an impression of his character on one not capable of appreciating 
 his genius. But the anecdote is not characteristic of either party, 
 and arises out of the common mistake that Hume was all his life 
 tame, phlegmatic, and unimpassioned. However much he had 
 tutored himself to stoicism, and had succeeded in conquering the out- 
 ward demonstrations of strong feelings, it will be seen in various 
 documents quoted in these volumes, and in the incidents narrated, 
 that he was a man of strong impulses, full of blood and nerve, ami 
 that, as in a high-mettled horse, his energies were regulated, not 
 extinguished. No one who had the training of his youth could 
 have escaped observing in him the workings of strong aspirations, 
 and i fa hardy resolute temper. 
 
 But 7- i i s . llume was evidently an accomplished woman, worthy 
 of the sympathy and respect of her distinguished son, and could not 
 have failed to see and to appreciate from its earliest, dawnings the 
 originality and power of his intellect. Her portrait, which I have 
 seen, repreM nts a thin but pleasing countenance, expressive of great 
 intellectual acuteness. S;nue verses, which a lady, who is her direct 
 descendant, authenticates a.- being in her handwriting, arc in the 
 curious collection of autographs and. illustrated portraits, in the 
 po ession of !Mr. YY~. F.Watson, L'rinee's Street, Edinburgh. It has 
 been supposed that they are the composition of David Hume him- 
 self; but the use of the Scottish language almost amount- to evidence
 
 i.i. ... uw. < li.I'Ham;. l:i:. 
 
 other during tlit* expedition to 1 Wt L'i >rient. in which 
 Clephane was prohahlv a medical ollieer. as. 1 1 nine, in 
 his letter.-* al'oui his own hall'-j>av. speaks of liiin as 
 in the same position with him.-elf. The ronv.-pon- 
 'hiiee i- charaetrri/.ed h\ the thorough i i a>e and polite 
 familiarity of the ramp, ami none of Hume'- letters 
 
 i"ii : In' u.. m.l ;i- iva.iiiy 1iu\i' walk."! tin' 
 - 1 '.<<'. - ! i .il.niiiir^ii in ;i kill. 'Hi*' lin.-- ;nv cali.' i > <n _'. \ r, 
 Marv - 1 )n am," ainl I > , _ 1 1 1 
 
 W ii ' liu.vi iy ilrcitin, 
 
 Tii : ' . . lay ymithtiil luinil, 
 
 My Man '- ' ,>\\ - . iv a.i a wliim, 
 
 I l.-r ' .. liylit a v, in-i. 
 
 11 W'.IV. li ,11'rl' una u. > 'i.l\ 
 
 I'll it. '-li. " ' :. :. : _'.' - 
 !'..:. :. i':i !::.') '.ray, 
 
 l!::t !... m. M. . r !a>- tr.t. in.'. 
 
 I ' . !) I i .i i \' ' .. . 'I' .] : ; 
 
 -. raivtaiiy |>i''--'i \ . i in l!m alS^. |{.S.l ... 
 I . 1..T In the |.lr i'IH ]. ;!']".-.'. ' ;\ . ;. 
 
 :l ! : 1 . ' . K-ial cii-cli 1 a! \ nmv, r'n -. T 1. v ... . a I : ] 
 
 In a I -i i v 1"- laai !:...! in - < I n r _i .i 1 1 i i. .. . ; . . . 
 ii.. I a|.|"'ar t" I. a > < In 1 1 tli>' ca r u i;li I In- n i< .; in r I' ; . : 
 a I.. ; rlilr-i ..n v. a- urn luai lini i ill I ; . I . A ,!..,, a..iT I 
 a i-i I. r -ciiiTai mil ma\' l:a\ < \i\<->\ I - aim linn- a! N :ih- 
 
 I >a\ i'i I I un if'- vi iiu h, iliMii-h In' i|. ii i : I. ; 
 
 i ; tl.i'ii n. ay ha\ < In rii < i n< n >1 lal mi I niniilnT n| 
 w 1. in may lia > < In . n .- 1 . i . 1 1 t - 1 ; I'm-, in a -. a-- >:' < 
 
 I lia\ i' 'il'i: incl liniii : In' K irk St'--mii l - ! : < 
 
 I i I >:i\ ill I Ii.iih' in N iih'V. ril-. u 1;.. ran 
 
 I'liii |.i,.' . Iia'l a in.: I 
 
 I ii |.::'l imi.! i;tn. Tln-lin. ,-i .1 M \. II. ; .M: 
 
 1 i. I.v In r l'la-k I n-y ;" :m>l !n>v. . mt il.. ' . 
 
 Iy in- a In . ' . ;. . 
 
 m'. - < v "' ;'..:; ' I .' < \t riii-m i i ; : . j , >
 
 296 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1750. 
 
 are fuller of his playful spirit than those addressed to 
 his brother officer. 
 
 Hume to Dr. Clephane. 
 
 " IrjTpb? yao &<;/,? mWwv uvrafyos aXkuv. 1 
 
 "Dear Doctor, 1 have here received a great many 
 thanks from an honest man, who tells me that he and 
 all his family have been extremely obliged to me. 
 This is my brother's gardener, who showed me a letter 
 from his son, wherein he acknowledges that lie owes 
 his life to your care ; that you placed him in an 
 hospital, and attended him with as much assiduity as 
 if he had been the best nobleman in the land ; that all 
 he shall ever be worth will never be able to repay you: 
 and that therefore he must content himself with being 
 grateful : at the same time desiring his father to give 
 me thanks, by whose means he was recommended to 
 you. 
 
 '" These thanks I received with great gravity, and 
 
 attached to Ali.s.s A. B. that we are to attribute the careful preser- 
 vation of the lines by Hume? 
 
 Condemird in infancy a .slave to roam, 
 Far far from India's shore, my native home, 
 To serve a Caledonian maid f come 
 In me no father does his darling mourn- 
 No mother weeps me from her bosom torn- 
 l5oth grew to dust, they say to earth below; 
 lint who those were, alas, I ne'er shall know. 
 Lady, to thee her love my mistress sends, 
 Ami bids thy grandsons be Ferdnando's friends 
 Bids thee suppose, on Afric's distant coast, 
 One of those lily-coloured favourites lost; 
 Doom'd in the train of some proud dame to wait, 
 A slave, as the should will, for use or state. 
 If to the boy you'd wish her to be kind, 
 Such grace from you let Ferdinando find. 
 
 ' Horn. II. >-. 515. A medical man i.^ equal in value to many 
 
 tlirr men. Or, as Pope has it, 
 
 A wise physician, skill'd our wounds to heah 
 Is more than armies to the public weal.
 
 .Ki. :;:. 
 
 ( OkUKSPONIiKNCK. 
 
 207 
 
 replied, that one must always endeavour to do good 
 when it is in one's power. In short, I took upon me 
 your part, ami gave myself as many airs as it' I had 
 really shown the same beneficent dispositions. I con- 
 sidered that you have eood deeds to spare, and arc 
 possessed of greater store of merits and works of 
 supererogation, than any church, 1'agan, .Mahometan, 
 or Catholic, ever was entitled to, and that, therefore, 
 to rob you a little was no threat crime: 
 
 fiii plum .-ujuTsunt. 
 
 Ill fiilliiiit cloininiiiii. i't pnisimt furilm-. 1 
 
 1 hope, dear I )octor. you lind virtue its own reward 
 -that, methinks, is but just considering it is the 
 only reward it is ever likely to meet with in this 
 world 1 mean : at least you may take your own re- 
 ward vourself for m<\ 1 shall never trouble my head 
 about the matter, and you need not expect that I shall 
 even like or esteem you the better for this instance 
 of vour chai'it v and humanity. You fancy, I suppose, 
 that I already liked and esteemed you so much, that 
 thN make.- no sensible addition. N on may fane, what 
 Mm please ; ! shall not so mueh as speak another 
 word upon this >ubject. but proceed to a better. You 
 
 ,-liall see. 
 
 "You would perhaps ask, how 1 employ my time 
 in thi- leisure and solitude, and what are my occupa- 
 tions? I 'ray. do you expect I should convey to you 
 an encvelopedia. in the compass of a letter? The 
 last thin'-; 1 took my hand from was a very learned, 
 elaborate discourse, eoncernine,' the populousne>< of 
 antiipiity; not altogether in opposition to I "''^ 
 and Mmiti Mjni, a, who exuL^e rate that affair in lin it eh . 
 
 lllil 11* .11 (it lillll'.-l ,]'''] lilt. 
 
 1 1 ii i in uin l';i Hunt. 
 
 i .'... <'. 1.
 
 293 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1750. 
 
 but, starting some doubts, and scruples, and difficulties, 
 sufficient to make us suspend our judgment on that 
 head. Amongst other topics, it fell in my way to 
 consider the greatness of ancient Rome ; and in 
 looking over the discourse, I find the following 
 period. 'If we may judge by the younger Pliny's 
 account of his house, and by the plans of ancient 
 buildings in Dr. Mead's collection, the men of quality 
 had very spacious palaces, and their buildings were 
 like the Chinese houses, where each apartment is 
 separate from the rest, and rises no higher than a 
 single story.' 1 Pray, on what authority are those 
 plans founded ? If I remember right, I was told they 
 were discovered on the walls of the baths, and other 
 subterraneous buildings. Is this the proper method 
 of citing them ? If you have occasion to communicate 
 this to Dr. Mead, I beg that my sincere respects may 
 be joined. 
 
 " I think the parsons have lately used the physicians 
 very ill, for, in all the common terrors of mankind, you 
 used commonly both to come in for a share of the 
 profit : but in this new fear of earthquakes, they have 
 left you out entirely, and have pretended alone to 
 give prescriptions to the multitude." I remember, 
 
 1 iSec this passage nearly verbatim in the "Essay on the 
 Populousness of Ancient Nations," (Works, edit. 1826'. p. 183.) 
 Much light has of c< urse been subsequently thrown on this matter 
 by the investigations in Pompeii, and other places. 
 
 '-' London was kept in much excitement, during the year l?50, 
 by repeated shocks of earthquake. Horace "Walpolc says, on 11th 
 March. ' In the night between Wednesday and Thursday last, 
 (exactly a month since the first shock.) the earth bad a shivering 
 fit. between one and two ; but so slight that, if no more had fol- 
 lowed, 1 don't believe it would have been noticed. 1 had been 
 awake, and had scarce dosed again. On a sudden 1 felt my bolster 
 lift up my bead : I thought somebody was getting from under my 
 bed, but soon found it was a strong earthquake, that la ted near
 
 a: i. no. 
 
 EARTHQUAKES. 
 
 21)1' 
 
 indeed, Mr. Addison talks of a quack that advertised 
 pills for aa earthquake, at ;t time when people lav 
 under such terrors as thev do at present. Hut 1 
 know not if any of tin 1 faculty have imitated him at 
 this time. I >,,, only a I'astoral I. otter of the Bishop 
 of London, whore, indeed, he recommends certain 
 [ills, such a- fasting. ] raver, repentance, mortification, 
 and other drug's, which arc entirely to conn 1 from his 
 own .-hop. And I think this is very unfair in him, 
 and you have "jivat reason to he otl'ended ; for why 
 lit he not have added, that medicinal powders and 
 potions would also have done service' The worst is, 
 that you dare not revenue yourself in kind, by ad- 
 vising your patients to have nothing to do with the 
 parson : lor you are sure he has a faster hold of them 
 than you. and vou may yourself he discharged on such 
 an advice. 1 
 
 1 1 : 1 1 \ i I > r : 1 1 1 1 1 1 a n < I _ 
 !! in. ti '_:'.':!'! i m t uf hi- ".'ii 
 : '. .. 1 1 1 . 1 . . \\ : :\ tli<' 1 1 . i _ ! i 
 
 in :i: 
 
 i ; ' ;::_ 
 ! ii ' i ' - ' - i ' . I ' ''. :. - 
 
 : ; : . Tlaav lm- 1 1 1 -. n;r : i <> oh! 1:- , :' . - ! %.. 
 
 v -. aii'l iiU'l w aiv." - I .;'. i ' Sir 11. 
 
 I i, 
 I) ' I. . , 11 :n,.l .Mr. K'i.l,;.. ulm I ;.l . ],,] :r,\ a.i.S ! 
 ! : li .-.;: . .il..-r ni_lu". kii-.rU.l :il m-x.t;i1 >l ':. :n:.| : : 
 
 .'- \ i a ri in!. l',:~i t',,111- n'cl ck. ami a <!i< -:o ll'nl rar;!, 
 
 : Ti . : La ! ni a -la.urr < <\ Mane n- ai; 1 r\l 
 s. ' ':ti.-;il I'.i !. |. ..f <>\f,. r 1. I ,._-,., il !! 
 
 1.. .. 1 ' wnv all l_'< i 1 1 u ' at (' ( v. u {> ;n : ' 
 
 1, rl ; ;,:, >,,, \. v f,ar . . 1" 1 . . ~ i 1 1 it 1- \'.>i-U r li'.Tii I 
 
 . < i u 1 1 , w a i I ( ! > ' 1 1 > 1 } > 1 1 : .! 
 
 P.:;t. v. I : i;a jv :.-:- o i -- 1 a _-. SI ,.;! ,|... |i! 1. ,. , ! I 
 
 ' i :. . a:;,l .. r.-ii ! f il, : 
 
 ' : a ra<-c \n illi I : m ! I I ' ' .' r,o. n 
 
 a l'Mnail |, ;:. ,-. .!' v, ! ':,!, t, n il.. . :.:. I * 
 ai.,1 Hftv (!; -. an.l ! :ivr I..-.-.; i:l-. i i i : : I la--!
 
 300 THE LIFE OF DAVID II I' ME. 1750. 
 
 " You'll scarcely believe what I am going to tell you; 
 but it is literally true. Millar had printed off, some 
 months ago, a new edition of certain philosophical 
 essays, but he tells me very gravely that he has delayed 
 publishing because of the earthquakes. 1 I wish you 
 may not also be a loser by the same common calamity ; 
 for I am told the ladies were so frightened, they 
 took the rattling of every coach for an earthquake ; 
 and therefore would employ no physicians but from 
 amongst the infantry : insomuch that some of you 
 charioteers had not gained enough to pay the expenses 
 of your vehicle, lint this may only be waggery and 
 banter, which I abhor. Please remember to give my 
 respects to the General, and Sir Harry, and Captain 
 Grant, who I hope are all in good health : indeed, as 
 to the Captain, I do not know what to hope, or wish ; 
 for if he recover his health, he loses his shape, and 
 must always remain in that perplexing dilemma. 
 Remember me also to Suncey Glassaugh, 2 and re- 
 member me yourself. 
 
 " Nlneicells, near Berwick, April 18, 1750. 
 
 " P.S. Pray, did Guidelianus 3 get his money, 
 allowed him by the Pay-office ? I suppose he is in 
 Ireland, poor devil ! so T give you no commission with 
 regard to him. 
 
 1 A second edition of the -'Essays concerning Human Understand- 
 ing,"was published by Millar in 1 751, with the author's name. One of 
 these essays, which, in the first edition, had the title, " Of the Prac- 
 tical Consequences of Natural Religion," but, in the second, received 
 a much less appropriate title, and one likely to make its tenor, as 
 applicable to the reasonings of philosophers anterior to Christianity, 
 be misunderstood. It was called, "Of a Particular Providence, 
 and Future State." 
 
 2 Colonel Abercromby. See above, p. 222. 
 ' Colonel Fdmonstoune.
 
 'kuf.spi)nm:n('k. 
 
 .SOI 
 
 ' Pray, tell (ilassauu'h that I hope he has not sup- 
 pressed the paper I sent him ahout tin* new year. 1 It" 
 Ik; has. pray a.-k tor a si^ht of it. for it is very witty. 
 I contrived it one ni^ht that I could not .-deep for the 
 tortures of rheumatism ; and you have heard of a 
 ureat lady, who always put on blisters, when she 
 wanted to he witty. Tis a receipt 1 recommend to 
 von." ' 
 
 The following letter to Oswald shows us that Hume 
 was, at the time it was written, earnestly ou^au'ed in 
 the preparation of the '* Kssays on I'olitical Economy," 
 which he puhlished in I 7~-. 
 
 Ilrvii. fit Jami.s ( Kwai.I) <>f I ' )n it ii'tlcn r. 
 
 I) mar Sir, I confess I was a little displeased 
 with viiii for neglect inu," me so lonu' ; hut you have 
 made ample compensation. This commerce, I find, 
 is nt' advantage to both of u> : to me. ly the new 
 Imlit- you communicate, and to vmi. by divine; you 
 occasion to examine these subjects more accurately. 
 I shall here deliver my opinion of your ren-oniiiLis 
 with the freedom which you desire. 
 
 "" I never meant to say that money, in all countries 
 which communicate, must necessarily he on a level, 
 hut on a level proportioned to their people. indu.-dry. 
 and commodities. That is. where there is doiihle 
 people. \c. there will he double money, and so on ; 
 and that the only way of keeping or inert a -dm: money 
 is. by keeping and increasing the people and industry; 
 not bv prohibitions of exporting money, or 1>\ taxes 
 on commodities, the methods conmionh thought of. 
 
 'r. I.iil.ly "The n.-ilm:,!!'- 1 ' ' ; 
 L'Yuin lln' nri L 'ii:a] :it k ;ii:i\ '"'!,
 
 302 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1750. 
 
 I believe we differ little on this head. You allow, 
 that if all the money in England were increased 
 fourfold in one night, there would be a sudden rise of 
 prices ; but then, say you, the importation of foreign 
 commodities would soon lower the prices. Here, 
 then, is the flowing out of the money already begun. 
 But, say you, a small part of this stock of money 
 would suffice to buy foreign commodities, and lower 
 the prices. I grant it would for one year, till the 
 imported commodities be consumed. But must not 
 the same thing be renewed next year ? No, say you ; 
 the additional stock of money may, in this interval, 
 so increase the people and industry, as to enable them 
 to retain their money. Here I am extremely pleased 
 with your reasoning. I agree with you, that the 
 increase of money, if not too sudden, naturally 
 increases people and industry, and by that means may 
 retain itself; but if it do not produce such an increase, 
 nothing will retain it except hoarding. Suppose 
 twenty millions brought into Scotland ; suppose that, 
 by some fatality, we take no advantage of this to 
 augment our industry or people, how much would 
 remain in the quarter of a century ? not a shilling 
 more than we have at present. My expression in 
 the Essay needs correction, which has occasioned you 
 to mistake it. 
 
 " Your enumeration of the advantages of rich 
 countries above poor, in point of trade, is very just 
 and curious ; but I cannot agree with you that, barring- 
 ill policy or accidents, the former might proceed 
 gaining upon the latter for ever. The growth of 
 every thing, both in art and nature, at last checks 
 itself. The rich country would acquire and retain all 
 the manufactures that require great stock or great 
 skill; but the poor country would gain from it all the
 
 Ki. : 
 
 >\VAI.I. 
 
 '.in;; 
 
 -umpler and more lahorious. The manufactures of 
 London, yiui know, are steel, lace. >ilk. hooks, coaches, 
 watches, furniture', fa -di ions: hut tin 1 outlying provinces 
 have tlif liiK.n and woollen { rade. 
 
 '* Tin' distance of (.'liinu is a jdiysical impediment 
 to tin- conmiunication. 1\ reducing our commerce to 
 :t few coii.inoditi 's : and I v heightening the price of 
 uodiiii-s. on account of the Ion l:' voyage, the 
 nioiiojiuii'-.-. and the taxes. A Chinese works for 
 three-halfjit.'iici' a-day. and is very industrious: were 
 he a> near as as I-" ranee or Spain, every thinu we used 
 would li Chinese, till money and prices came to a 
 level : that is. to such a lew] as is proportione<l to 
 the Milliliters of people, industry, and commodities of 
 hoth count lies. 
 
 "A part of our jnihlic funds mtvc in place of m one v; 
 
 i'or our merchants, hut still more our hankers, keen 
 
 i 
 
 ea-h 1'V tleiii when tla-v have stock, hecause 
 
 can dispose of that upon any sudd-n demand. 
 
 Thi> i- not the case with the hrench funds. The 
 
 v of the I lotel de Ville are not t ransferahle. hut 
 
 n.o-t of them eiitaihd in the families. At least, 
 
 1 know there is a uP'at dill'erenee in this respect 
 
 hetwixt them and the iir//i>/,* id' the Indian Company. 
 
 That the industry and people of Spain, after the 
 
 discovery of tic \V< >t Indies, at tirst increased more 
 
 than is commonly imagined, is a very curious fact : 
 
 and ! douht not hut you say so iijton u'oud authority, 
 
 though I have not net with that oh-en ' >n in any 
 
 aut hor. 
 
 lle^ide the had etl'ects of th-' paper ci'.'.lit iii our 
 colonies, as it v.;i> a cheat, it mu-t al-o he allow, d 
 that it hani.-died uohl and silver, hy - i] i h ''_:*' 
 place. On the whole, my intention in the K->a\ was 
 to rt move people's terrors, w he are apt. from ch imermal
 
 304 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1750. 
 
 calculations, to imagine they arc losing their specie, 
 though they can show in no instance that either their 
 people or industry diminish ; and also to expose the 
 absurdity of guarding money otherwise than by 
 watching over the people and their industry, and 
 preserving or increasing them. To prohibit the 
 exportation of money, or the importation of commodi- 
 ties, is mistaken policy; and I have the pleasure of 
 seeing you agree with me. 
 
 "I have no more to say, but compliments; and 
 therefore shall conclude. I am." &C 1 
 
 " NinewcUs, 1st November, 1?:;0." 
 
 In 1750 there was published in Edinburgh, an edition 
 of Montesquieu's " Esprit des Loix ; avec les dernieres 
 corrections et illustrations de l'Auteur." 2 That Hume 
 was instrumental to this publication, is shown by 
 the letters addressed to him by Montesquieu between 
 the years 1749 and 1753, printed in the appendix. 
 It appears, that, as he there intimates, the author 
 sent over a copy of his corrections and illustrations ; 
 but the work must have been partly printed before 
 their arrival, for, in the advertisement to the reader, 
 it is stated that a few of the earliest sheets, where 
 the more important amendments occurred, had to be 
 
 1 Memorials of Oswald, ]>. C>5. 
 
 2 Two vols. 8vo, Hamilton and Balfour. The productions of the 
 Scottish press, in the middle period of last century, deserve to be 
 looked back upon with respect ; and the excellence of its matter 
 at that time, will go far to balance its present fertility. It was 
 not only as a vehicle of native genius, that it Mas respectable. 
 Besides the eminent editions of the classics by the Kuddimans and 
 the Foulises, it supplied handsome editions of celebrated foreign 
 works ; a sure indication that it was surrounded by a large class of 
 well educated readers.
 
 !!-i. wkstmixstkk klkction. 
 
 ,*]o." 
 
 r> > j M'i n t < " 1. whil -nine minor alterations :uv supplied 
 liy ;l list of corrections. 
 
 Montesquieu's appreciation of some of Hume's, 
 ethical works will In? lvail with interest. Hume 
 appears to have ma<le the first advances towards an 
 intimacy; and the u'rent Frenchman, then in his 
 sixtieth year, seems to have haile<l with satisfaction 
 me" of a kindred spirit, ami to have re- 
 ceive! hi- p roll' -la with warm cordiality. This is the 
 ('omincnc' , ijii'iii of that intercourse with his eminent 
 contemporaries hi ITance. which we shall hereafter 
 find to occupy a prominent feature in Hume's literary 
 and social history. 
 
 At this period we find Hume taking much ini rest 
 
 in the eondiii : of a certain .lame-. I'ruser, in conne\ion 
 
 with the \Ve-tmii:st<T < lection of ! 7 l! one of t ! : 
 
 I epoch- in tlm parliamentary hi-tory of ! hat 
 
 uowm-d con-titueiicy. The candidate- were Lord 
 
 Ti'eiithani the rhle-t son of Laid (lower, and Sir 
 
 ( ieor-e \ andepat. of whom the former was returned 
 
 Sir < !i nvjrr \ andej.ut was tic 
 
 c:i i, lidate. rejiri - -at inu' t i: " i heli-h 
 
 . -1 ." Lord Trent ham wa- a phtd man. and 
 accused of a partiality for In nch inten -ts. Thoi 
 the dacohites wciv ranged on the \ andeput side. Lord 
 Treutham was hy implication accused ofhaviic. t'avour- 
 ed the e\i!e 1 family : as 1 iv (me of the election j lacards 
 i - : ; 1 on the occa-ion. the voters arc desired to "a-k 
 Lord d' rent ham. v, ho had his foot in the stirrup in tl 
 vrar I 7 L" '" lie was charged with ha dn.: -ana : 
 hi- country or dacohite principle- for a place, mid 
 w ith he'nie.' t hat most ahhorn d ol' all j oiit ica i 
 characters, an ex-patriot, wh<> ha- ratted to ohtain 
 oliice. Shortly hen-re the election, a rio'ons attack 
 had 1 n made on a a, .all ITench tlcatre. which had 
 
 \o|.. i. x
 
 306 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1750. 
 
 become peculiarly unpopular by obtaining a licence, 
 when some English establishments had been sup- 
 pressed under Walpole's act. It appears that Lord 
 Trentham had, with some others, endeavoured to 
 preserve the friendless foreigners from the fury of 
 the mob. So un-English an act, as this harbouring 
 and protecting of foreign vagabonds, against the just 
 indignation of true born Britons, was very success- 
 fully displayed as an overt act in favour of Popery, 
 Jacobitism, and French ascendency ; and the skilful 
 manner in which it was improved, in the hand-bills, 
 and pasquinades of the Vandeput party, shows that 
 this department of the electioneering art was not 
 then far from its present state of maturity. 1 
 
 1 The following placard is, in the circumstances, a master-stroke 
 in its simplicity and ingenuity. 
 
 " AUX ELECTEURS TRES DIGXES I)E WESTMINSTER. 
 
 "Messieurs, Vos suffrages et intcrets sont desires pour LeTres 
 Hon. mi Lord TRENTHAM, un veritable Angiitis. 
 
 " N. B. L'on prie scs Amis de scs rendre a l'liotel Francois dans 
 le March e au Foin." 
 
 The following acrostic is a specimen of the poetic lucubrations of 
 the Vandeput party: 
 
 " T ruant to thy promis'd trust; 
 \l ebel daring where thou durst, 
 E ager to promote French strollers, 
 N one but poltroons arc thy pollers. 
 T ribes of nose-led clerks and placemen, 
 II ackney voters, (bribes disgrace men,) 
 A 11 forswear, through thick and thin, 
 M eanness theirs, lint thine the sin." 
 
 This election gave birth to some incidents apparently trifling, 
 which yet make a material figure in British history, from their 
 connexion with the; vindication of the privileges of the House of 
 Commons. The Honourable Alexander Murray, brother of Lord 
 Fiibank, a. gentleman who will probably be again called up in a 
 fid arc part of the. c pages, was charged along with Mr. Crowle, 
 an attorney, and another person, with the \a~(' of "threatening and 
 affronting expressions," by the high bailiff. They were brought
 
 I'.i. o'.Mo. WKSTMINSTKK KLK( TH.\. 
 
 ;()7 
 
 A pretty iniiiiite investigation has not enabled me 
 
 to discover what precise conduct in connexion with 
 this affair was important enough to elicit from Hume. 
 the elaborate joke against Eraser embodied in the fol- 
 lowing papers, lie was evidently a medical man. but 
 lie din's ant appear in tie' Ii>t of those who attested M r. 
 Murray's health, or were appointed to visit him. 1 1 < 
 certainly acted on the Vandeput side, \ et his name i.s 
 nowhere up ntioiu'd. in connexion with it. in a pretty 
 lar^e collection of documents relating to this election, 
 which 1 have had an opportunity of consulting'. 1 
 
 Fraser was evidently, like Clephane, one of the 
 medical oliicers in (ieneral St. (lair's expedition, for. 
 in a previous letter to Colonel Abercromby. 1 1 nine men- 
 tions him as an otlici r in the royal regiment." lie ap- 
 pear.- to have been a thorough .Iaeol>ite, for. in another 
 
 I" I- 1 I in- l>ar ' I i ; > II" . . ami ;it'i r -- - 1 1 . I i - u ~ - i< >u ami iiitjiiirv. 
 1 ihini --i\ e, ri'i-i i\ i'.i the n-ual iv['riui:iiiil mi 
 
 ; vv I . . i ] he i'. -e. -aVMl";. i' " a- "ill" 
 
 1 : i- ; : - r h :;-' I." had err I n in." M un av .lci.ie.I the c!,:ir.v, 
 
 [ 1 ll - II. .a-". ' i.il. .I." a W'al|".l""si_\-. ' \il..-.i I..- wa 
 h l.a\ i 1 1 _- < * ; 1 1 1 < 1 I .. el "I"r -i 1 1 l::ii 11 am! the lii_li hail ilk ia-cal>," 
 aipl. linal ! In kneel. -avin_\ ">ir. I he_- f.. In- . \c ;-. .1. 
 
 I t:-\ r kn.-.-l I. HI I.. C i. ' Tin -n I..1I..U.-T imj.ri- inn. -ill. a: I 
 .iiilian a im.' .|ii"-ti"ii- ali.aii the ].ri-"iier'- health, w lii.'li. -iukin_ r 
 ll inlli.",".| ii.i|iri.~i.iiiii.-iit. iv|>r :i-ln- I t in - v\ la. mul.! 
 m.t I urn hack . ai ill" < .'i i~i thev ha.l taken ; 1 1 e w h..!e I eln_' i i 
 
 i in. .re .'. ni|.l"\ l.v ik" .litli.ailtv ( I'.mlinj- a L'uhlin_ r rule in 
 i he | >! the I I.ui-e. until parliament w a :i> 1 1> *ii i ne.l : ai 
 
 I. " New _ate iii a t I'l ll ii i ] >1i:iti t ] .r..(v-.-inii. j.n i.'laiuni!_' tin- .'. \ ice . : 
 M iia-av an. I la!., rtv." 
 
 ' 
 
 \ i/. in a \ 'liinie i,f In ,i,j nie- ami "1 
 1 ' '! -I .,: . Mai.lment. I ' >|. et' W llidi 1 iie |. : . ee in I !.e j.r. 
 
 |e are -pecinni . '|',, -ln.W 1.. v. ire I . -. I 1" 
 
 tantali/in_' ciiieiilemv-. there are iv.. .| : ,r . - I'm r.- im !:!: m ! . u 
 
 i : Trent ham -'ale. nne ..|" them ha\ : i'L' al 
 
 Ii ' i \ eier-. tli" -iiriiitieant MS. m ':.r .; n\ "' I ' t ] .-.*'
 
 SOS THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 letter, Hume speaks of him as one of the extreme 
 persons whom his history will displease by its too 
 great partiality to the Whigs. A very pleasing and 
 natural description of his character is given by Hume, 
 in a letter to Clephane, a little farther on. 1 
 
 The following document was sent to Colonel 
 Abercromby, along with the explanatory letters 
 which immediately follow it. 
 
 To the Right Honourable the Lord Chief Justice 
 Reason, and the Honourable the Judges Dis- 
 cretion, Prudence, Reserve, and Deliberation, 
 the Petition of the Patients of Westminster, 
 against James Fraser, Apothecary. 
 
 Most humbly showeth, 
 
 That your petitioners had put themselves and 
 families under the direction and care of the said 
 .James Fraser, and had so continued for several years, 
 to their oreat mutual benefit and emolument. 
 
 That many of your petitioners had, under his 
 management, recovered from the most desperate and 
 deplorable maladies, such as megrims, toothaches, 
 cramps, stitches, vapours, crosses in love, &c. which 
 wonderful success, after the blessing of God, they can 
 ascribe to nothing but his consummate skill and 
 capacity, since many of their neighbours, labouring 
 
 1 A gentleman of the same name connected with the Lovat 
 family, was for some time an apothecary in London, where lie lived 
 "the life of a genuine London bachelor;" he was a keen -Jacobite, 
 and died about l?o'(). Note communicated by Captain Fraser, 
 I\in>c/,-'it\ who also mentions another James Fraser, who was com- 
 missioner of the nary during the revolutionary war, and settled in 
 London in 1781 ; but this appears to have been a person of a later 
 generation than I ! nine's friend.
 
 -Ki. .If-io. WKSTMIXSTKR KLECTIOX. 
 
 ",i >: 
 
 under the same distresses, died every day, by the 
 mistakes of less learned apothecaries. 
 
 r riiat there are many disconsolate widows among 
 your jtetitioners. who believed themselves, and wnv 
 believed by all their neighbours, to be dying of l: ii< -t' : 
 but as soon as the said .James Fruser applied lenitives. 
 and pmper topical medicines, they were observed to 
 recover Wonderfully. 
 
 That ill all hypochondriacal cases he was sovereign, 
 in so much that his very presence dispelled the 
 malady, cheering the sight, exciting a gentle limitation 
 of the muscles of the' lungs and thorax, and thereby 
 promoting expectoration, exhilaration, circulation, and 
 digestion. 
 
 That your petitioners verily believe, that no: 
 many more have died from unionist them, under 
 the administration of the said dames Fraser. than 
 actually I i b\ the course 1 of nature in places where 
 physic is not at all known or practised : which will 
 seareelv be credited in this sceptical and unbelieving 
 
 That all this harmony and mood agreement betwixt 
 your petitioners and the said dames l-'raser had lately 
 been disturbed, to the great detriment of your peti- 
 tioners and their once numerous families. 
 
 That the said dames Fraser, associating him-dl' 
 
 with Carey, surgeon, and William liutlnvy. 
 
 \]><\. and other evil inteutioned persons, not I 
 the fear of ( od before their eye-, had gi\on him- !. 
 entirely up to the care of 1 hum' l'i m.n . and had 
 utterly neglected your petitioner-. 
 
 That the lady above mentioned wa> of a n--' 
 admirable < < in'sitit ti<>x, envied by all who ha ! < \er 
 seen her or heard of her; and was only atllicted 
 sometimes with vapour-, and sometime.- \v;t!i a lei -
 
 310 THE LIFfi OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 ness or flux, which not being of the bloody kind, 
 those about her were rather pleased with it. 
 
 That notwithstanding this, the said James Fraser 
 uses all diligence and art to persuade the said lady 
 that she is in the most desperate case imaginable, 
 and that nothing will recover her but a medicine he 
 lias prepared, being a composition of pukls pi/rius, 1 
 along with a decoction of northern steel, and an in- 
 fusion of southern aqua sacra or holy water. 
 
 That the medicine, or rather poison, was at first 
 wrapt up under a wafer marked Patriotism, but had 
 since been attempted to be administrated without any 
 cover or disguise, 
 
 That a dose of it had secretly been poured down 
 the throat of the said Dame Public, while she was 
 asleep, and had been attended with the most dismal 
 symptoms, visibly heightening her vapours, and in- 
 creasing her flux, and even producing some symptoms 
 of the bloody kind ; and had she not thrown it up 
 with great violence, it had certainly proved fatal 
 to her. 
 
 That the said James Fraser and his associates, now 
 finding that the Catholicon does not agree with the 
 constitution of the said Dame, prescribed to her large 
 doses of Phillipiacum, Cottontiwn, 2 and Vandeputiana:'' 
 in order to alter her constitution, and prepare her 
 body for the reception of the said Catholicon. 
 
 That he had even been pleased to see Lovitium 4 
 applied to her, though known to be a virulent caustic, 
 and really no better than a lapis inf emails. 
 
 That while the medicines Goveriacum and Tren- 
 
 1 Gunpowder. 
 
 5 In allusion, probably, to Sir John Hynd Cotton. 
 
 3 In allusion to Sir George Vandeput. 
 
 * In allusion, probably, to Eraser's own family.
 
 -Kr. .">!)- 10. WKSTMINSTKR KLKCTION. :\\\ 
 
 tiintiuin ' were very violent, resembling sublimate of 
 Imjh llmrn mercury, lie also much approved of tliem, 
 but since they were molliiietl bv hit' 1 operations, and 
 made as innocent as mercurius duleis. they wore be- 
 come his utter aversion. 
 
 That the said James Fraser, through his whole 
 practice on the said Dame Public, entirely rejected 
 all lenitives, soporifics, palliatives, N.c. though ap- 
 provi.'d of by the regular and graduate physicians, as 
 Dr. IVlliam, Dr. Fox. Dr. Pitt ; and that lie pre- 
 scribed nothing but chemical salts and stimulating 
 medicines, in which regimen none but quacks and 
 empirics who had never taken their degre< s will 
 agree with him. 
 
 That your petitioners remember the story of an 
 Irish servant to a physician, which seems fitted to the 
 present purpose. The doctor bid Teague carry a 
 potion to a patient, and tell him it was the most 
 innocent in the world, and it' it did him no good, could 
 do him no harm. The footman obeys, hut unluckily 
 f rnuspo.-ing a word. said, that if it did him no harm 
 it could do him no good. And your petitioners are 
 much afraid that the catholicon above mentioned is 
 much of the same nature. 
 
 May it therefore please your worships to dis- 
 charge the said dames Fraser from any farther 
 attendance on the said Dame Public, and to 
 order him to return to the care and inspection 
 of your petitioners and their families. 
 
 The following is entitled. " True letter to Colonel 
 Ahercromhy. to be first read." 
 
 Dear Colonel, Fndeavour t<> make Fr;i-< 
 
 ! K;nl ( iHvr, ;in.l liis -<>u \.<.v>\ Tn nt' :mii.
 
 312 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 believe I am in earnest. If the thing takes, you may 
 easily find somebody to personate Mr. Cockburn ; 
 and you may swear to the truth of the whole. To 
 make it more probable, you may say that you sus- 
 pect too much study has made me crazy ; otherwise 
 I had never thought of so foolish a thing. 
 
 " If there be any probability of succeeding, an adver- 
 tisement, like that which is on the following page, 
 may be put into any of the public papers that is, if 
 you think que le jeu taut la chandctte. 
 
 " My compliments to Mrs. Abcrcromby. I hope 
 some day to regain her good opinion. It shall be the 
 great object of my ambition. 
 
 " Tell the Doctor I shall answer him sooner than 
 he did me. He will assist you very well in any cheat 
 or roguery : but do not attempt it, unless you think 
 you can all be masters of your countenance. This is 
 a note, not a letter. Yours sincerely. 
 
 " P.S. Read Fraser the letter, but do not put it into 
 his hands ; he will tear it. Show him first my other 
 letter to you." 
 
 "Advertisement. Speedily will be published, 
 price Is. A letter to a certain turbulent Patriot m 
 Westminster, from a friend in the country. 
 Kt spargcre voces 
 
 In valgum ambiguas, ct qiuurerc couscius arma. Vir<jtl." 
 
 The following is the letter which, in pursuance 
 of the arrangements for completing this complicated 
 joke, Colonel Abcrcromby was to read to Fraser. 
 Its tone of mock heroic will at once be detected, 
 and indeed, when the spilling of the last drop of blood, 
 '" or of ink," is with so much simplicity made an 
 alternative, it may be presumed that James Fraser
 
 .l'.i. :;:>- 1". 
 
 WESTMINSTER I'.LIXTloN. 
 
 3 1 :; 
 
 was a \ cry obtuse 1 ioiiii_j, if lie believed these protesta- 
 tions to be serious. 
 
 " 1>i:ak Siu. This will be delivered you by Mr 
 W illiain Cockburn. a friend uf mine, who travels to 
 London for the tir.-t time. 1 have taken the oppor- 
 tunity to .-end up by him a manuscript, which I 
 intend to have printed. I have ordered bini tir.-t 
 to I ad it to you ; but not to trust it out of bis hands. 
 Y : can scarce be surprised that 1 treat Mr. Fraser 
 so roughly in it. No man. who loves his country, 
 can be a friend to that Li'entleman, considering his 
 late as well as former behaviour. for if 1 be 
 rightly informed, his conduct shows no more the spirit 
 of submission and tranquillity than that of prudence 
 and di-eivtion : and if he u,oes on at this rate, you 
 vourself will be obliged to renounce all connexion 
 and friend-hip w it b him. 
 
 1 have been ill of late : and am very low at present 
 from the In-, nf blond which they have drawn from 
 me. M\ friends would hinder me from reading: but 
 ni\ book- and my pen are my only comfort and 
 oeenjiat ion : and while 1 am master of a drop of 
 blood or of ink. 1 will joyfully spill it in the cause ( ,f 
 my count ry. 1 am. i 'ear Sir. 
 
 ^* our most obedient humble servant." 
 
 .v; ( .. . /' . u;.'//. i?:.i." 
 
 In tin' following letter to I >r. Clephane. we tin 1 
 that the practical joke on dames Frn-er. w loch seems 
 to have "J veil a uood deal of employment to tl wit- 
 of a ';reat philosopher, a leaned physician, and a 
 gallant colonel, is still a matter which Hume has 
 very much at heart : while at the ,-ame time he seems 
 to have been an;u-inu himself with .-one other jocular
 
 314 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 effusions. The letter presents us with liis first com- 
 memoration of the poetical genius of his friend, John 
 Home, though it gives no forecast of the zeal with 
 which he subsequently advocated his countryman's 
 claims to originality and high genius. The dramatic 
 critic will probably feel an interest in the light 
 thrown on Hume's appreciation of Shakspere by the 
 manner in which his name is connected with that of 
 Racine. 
 
 Hume to Dr. Clephane. 
 
 " Nineicells, near Berwick, 
 18th February, 1751. 
 
 " Dear Doctor, I will not pay you so bad a com- 
 pliment as to say I was not angry with you for 
 neglecting me so long ; that would be to suppose I 
 was indifferent whether I had any share in your 
 memory or friendship. However, since there is 
 nothing in it but the old vice of indolence, 
 
 Non ignara niali, miseris succurrere disco. 
 
 Ed io anche sono Pittore, as Correggio said ; I am 
 therefore resolved to forgive you, and to keep myself 
 in a proper disposition for saying the Lord's prayer, 
 whenever I shall find space enough for it. 
 
 " I must own I could not but think you excusable, 
 even before you disarmed me by your submission and 
 penitence ; 'tis so common an artifice for provincials 
 to hook on a correspondence with a Londoner, under 
 pretext of friendship and regard, that a jealousy on 
 that head is very pardonable in the latter. But I 
 ought not to lie under that general suspicion ; for the 
 fashionable songs I cannot sing ; the present or the 
 expectant ministers 1 have no interest in ; the old 
 good books I have not yet all read or pondered .suffi- 
 ciently ; and the current stories and hon mots, I would
 
 .Ki. :;.' i i. 
 
 WT.STMI.YSTKR KI.K' Ti< >\. 
 
 not rt i j>o;it if ! knew them. You .see. tli''ivfor*. tint if 
 I were nut concerned about I >r. < 'I< 'jh:ni'\ I never 
 should desire to hoar from liiui. ami con.se.pi 1 1 1 1 v th;it 
 a liii" of his would b i equally acceptable wlmth'r it 
 comes from London or Crookhaven. 
 
 *' I liavi.' executed your desire and t h < 'oloii d's 
 as well as I eould. hut have not, 1 believe, succeeded 
 so well as last year: the subject, indeed, was exhausted, 
 and the patient may justly, I fear, lie esteemed in- 
 ciiralde. I leave you to manage the matter as you 
 ln'st can : but I bee- of you to conduct it. so as not 
 to make a quarrel betwixt Fraser and nie : he is an 
 honest, Li'ood-huinoured, friendly, pleasant fellow, 
 (though, it must be contested, a little turbiilwnt and im- 
 petuous.) and I should be sorry to disoblige him. The 
 Colonel would be heartily bit. if by this or any other 
 means Fraser should be cured of his politics and 
 patriotism : all his friends would lose a u;reat deal of 
 diver-ion. and certainly would not like him near so 
 well, if he wore more coid and reasonable, and mo I - 
 rate, and prudent. Put these are vices lie i- i;i no 
 manner of damrm' of. Is it likely that r asoii will 
 prevail against nature, habit, company, education, 
 and prejudice ' 1 leave you to jud^e. 
 
 " Put since | am in the humour of displaying my 
 wit. I must tell you that lately, at an idle hour, I 
 wrote a sheet called the Pellinau'.s Petition: wherein 
 f I '" not partial, which I certainly am.) there was 
 some L r,, od pleasantry and satire. The Printers in 
 ! '.dinbiir-h refused to print it. (a u'ood .-mn. \ on 11 -ay. 
 of ///_// prudence and discretion.) Mr. M urc.t he member. 
 has a copy of it : ask it of him it' yon meet with him. 
 or bid the Colonel, who sees him every day at the 
 house, ask it. and if you like it read it to the Ceneral, 
 and then return it. I will not boast, for I have no
 
 316 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 manner of vanity ; but when I think of the present 
 dulness of London, I cannot forbear exclaiming, 
 
 Home n'est pas dans Home, 
 C'est par tout ou je suis. 
 
 A namesake of mine has wrote a Tragedy, which he 
 expects to come on this winter. 1 I have not seen it, 
 but some people commend it much. "lis very likely 
 to meet with success, and not to deserve it, for the 
 author tells me, he is a great admirer of Shakspere, 
 and never read Racine. 
 
 " When I take a second perusal of your letter, I find 
 you resemble the Papists, who deal much in penitence, 
 but neglect extremely les bonnes centres. I asked 
 you a question with regard to the plans of ancient 
 buildings in Dr. Mead's collection. 2 Pray, are they 
 authentic enough to be cited in a discourse of erudi- 
 tion and reasoning ? have they never been published 
 in any collection ? and what are the proper terms in 
 which I ought to cite them? I know you arc a 
 great proficient in the virtu, and consequently can 
 resolve my doubts. This word I suppose you pretend 
 to speak with an (e), which I own is an improvement : 
 but admitting your orthography, you must naturally 
 have a desire of doing a good-natured action, and 
 instructing the ignorant. 
 
 " It appears to me that apothecaries bear the same 
 relation to physicians, that priests do to philosophers; 
 the ignorance of the former makes them positive, and 
 dogmatical, and assuming, and enterprising, and pre- 
 tending, and consequently much more taking with the 
 people. Follow my example let us not trouble our- 
 selves about the matter; let the one stud' the beasts' 
 
 1 Probably i; Agi.s," which appears to have been written before 
 " Douglas." " See above, p. 208.
 
 .Ki. :i!M< 
 
 I'lli: MKLLMAVS I'KTITInN 
 
 ;>\ i 
 
 Lfuts with antimony, :iii < I tin 1 other their heads with 
 
 divinity, wliat is that tons' according to tin 1 (Ireek 
 prowrh, they arc no more I mt as - ''' ---; 
 
 "Von may tell me, indeed, that I mistake tin; 
 matter unite; that it is not your kindness for the 
 people, which makes you concerned, hut something 
 els". In short, that if self-interest were not in the 
 e,'-' . they mi^ht take clysters, and physic, and ipe- 
 cacuanha, till they were tired of them. Now. dear 
 I )octor, this mercenary way of thinking I never could 
 have suspected you of, and am heartily ashamed to 
 find you of such a temper. 
 
 " If you answer this any time within the twelve 
 months 'tis sufficient, and I promise not to answer 
 you ne\t at less than six months" interval : and so. as 
 the i; Tinans say, je me recoinaute a f ( >< ponnes 
 c races. ^ ours. \c." 
 
 The llellnian's Petition." more than once alluded 
 to in Hume's letters, is a little jell d'esprit. to which 
 he m .'ins to have attrihuted far more than it- due im- 
 portance. The clergy and schoolmasters of Scotland 
 were then appealing to the legislature tor an increase 
 of their income- : and in this production, lluine. in a 
 sort of parody on the representation of these reverend 
 and learned hodies, .shows that hell-ringers have the 
 same, or even ereater claims on the liheralitv of the 
 pahlic. It is perhaps a little too like the original, of 
 which it professes to he a parody: and though it has 
 some wit, is deficient in the hitter ridicule, which 
 Swift would have thrown into such an eti'ort. The 
 following are some passages: 
 
 'That as your jtetitioners mtw in the quality of 
 ua'ave-die-ee|-s, the threat u-e and necessity ot' iheir 
 order, in every well reioilat' d commonwealth, has
 
 SI 8 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 never yet been called in question by any reasoner ; an 
 advantage they possess above their brethren the 
 reverend clergy. 
 
 " That their usefulness is as extensive as it is great, 
 for even those who neglect religion or despise learning, 
 must yet, some time or other, stand in need of the 
 good offices of this grave and venerable order, 
 
 " That it seems impossible the landed gentry can 
 oppose the interest of your petitioners ; since, by 
 securing so perfectly as they have hitherto done, the 
 persons of the fathers and elder brothers of the fore- 
 said gentry, your petitioners, next after the physicians, 
 are the persons in the world, to whom the present 
 proprietors of land are the most beholden. 
 
 " That, as your petitioners are but half ecclesias- 
 tics, it may be expected they will not be altogether 
 unreasonable nor exorbitant in their demands. 
 
 " That the present poverty of your petitioners in 
 this kingdom is a scandal to all religion ; it being easy 
 to prove, that a modern bellman is not more richly 
 endowed than a primitive apostle, and consequently 
 possesseth not the twentieth part of the revenues be- 
 longing to a presbyterian clergyman. 
 
 " That whatever freedom the profane scoffers, and 
 free thinkers of the age, may use with our reverend 
 brethren the clergy, the boldest of them tremble 
 when they think of us ; and that a simple reflection 
 on us has reformed more lives than all the sermons in 
 the world. 
 
 " That the instrumental music allotted to your 
 petitioners, being the only music of that kind left in 
 our truly reformed churches, is a necessary prelude to 
 the vocal music of the schoolmaster and minister, 
 and is by many esteemed equally significant and 
 melodious.
 
 Ki. ,'i'MO. l'lli: HELLMA.YS I'KTITloX. 
 
 ol!i 
 
 That your petitioners trust the honourable house 
 will not despise them on account of tlio present mean- 
 ness of their condition : for, having heard a learned 
 man say that the cardinals, who are now princes, were 
 once nothing hut the parish curates of Koine, your 
 petitioners, observing the same laudable measures to 
 he now prosecuted, despair not of beiiiLT, our day, on 
 a level^with the nobility and gentry of these realms." 
 
 Tin 1 petition of which this is a specimen, is accom- 
 panied by ;i letter, signed " Zerubabel Maeuilchrist, 
 Dellinan of Buckhaven :"" who kindly says to the 
 members of parliament he addresses, that tie' brother 
 to whom is allotted " the comfortable task of do in 14 
 yon the last service in our power, shall do it so care- 
 fully, that you never shall rind reason to coin;. lain of 
 him." 1 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I 7." I 17.VJ. .-lvr. 10 II. 
 
 >ir (liil'ri't I III 1 1 > t 1 1 mno's intimncy with liim Their l > liil<'-"phi,'al ('>rrf- 
 ^|>iiilt'iii - t- - |)i;iliPi;uf: "ii Natural Keli^inn KcM.lenee in I,. 
 
 J:i''k'> I.ui'i- I'lil'licatiiiii "1' the " hi'iuiry eoiuvnitii:,' 1 1; Prima] 
 M"i-:il ' Tli.' I'tilituriaii Theory Attempt M ol t:i n the < hair !' M i . 1 1 
 I'll .]>!,) in lihi j-i\'.' < .in]..- 1 it i.iii with Ihirke I "nl.l i.; t i. >:i i>l tli 
 " ]'..li:ieal Di >ur " The t'oumlatmn t' IVlilieal 1 1.- .11. .my l'rem'h 
 I'ran H 
 
 I*'( ii;i'.\ins| in that body of accomplished gentlemen, 
 whose frieudsliip and companionship afforded to 
 
 1 I'l'illtnl -lie. 'I ill t 
 
 'Tin- I'.. 
 
 timi iif r-rni] 1 -. 
 
 11 
 
 Jain, Mai in.n.f. 1 
 
 man - I i-i il i' 11, I ::.- I . 11 n-|>nni. ! n a 1 .' la . 
 
 ,il A >.-.,- Ila i-." tl .lit. : f wl.i.-li 
 in , 1 h,,wi.\ri a pi ear l>> l.a\r kii'.v, 11 tl at 1 1 1:11 ' ;i- tl.r null 1 r 
 
 ftli
 
 30 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1 75 J . 
 
 Hume so much pleasure and instruction, was Mr. 
 afterwards Sir Gilbert Elliot of Minto. A small 
 portion of the letters, of which their correspondence 
 consists, has already been embodied in philosophical 
 literature ; x and I have now, through the favour of 
 the noble descendant of the person to whom they 
 were addressed, an opportunity of presenting the 
 reader with all those portions of Hume's letters to 
 Sir Gilbert Elliot, now existing, which have any 
 claim on public attention, whether as containing 
 valuable philosophical speculations, or throwing light 
 on the social habits and intercourse of the two dis- 
 tinguished correspondents. 2 
 
 Sir Gilbert Elliot was the third baronet of the 
 family of Minto, who bore the same Christian name/ 3 
 
 1 Stewart's Philosophy of the Human Mind, and Preliminary 
 Dissertation to the Encyclopaedia Britannica. 
 
 2 In the following pages these papers will he cited as the 
 Minto MSS. 
 
 3 His grandfather distinguished himself by his resolute and 
 skilful defence of AVilliam Veitch, one of the nonconforming clergy, 
 who suffered in the persecutions of the reign of Charles II. Elliot 
 acting as the persecuted man's agent, made an appeal to the feelings 
 of the English statesmen, on the barbarity of the measures of their 
 Scots colleagues ; and was so far successful, that the sentence of 
 death pronounced against Veitch, was commuted to banishment. 
 lie thenceforth became, of course, a marked man, and an act of 
 forfeiture passed against him in l(>8/5, as an accessory in Argyle's 
 rising. lie afterwards obtained a remission of his sentence, and on 
 22d November, 1688, he was received as a member of the faculty 
 of advocates. 1 Ie was created a baronet in 1 700, and on 2.5th July, 
 1 /'O.j, was raised to the bench, (fir tin ton ami Haitfs account of the 
 Senator* of the Coller/c of Jtts/ice.) In J)r. M'Crie's curious 
 4 - Memoirs of Mr. William Veitch," (p. f),9) it is stated, that when 
 the evil days were passed, and the condemned nonconformist was 
 parish minister of Dumfries, be was occasionally visited by the 
 judge, when the following conversation passed between them, 
 '-'* Ah Willie, Willie, had it no' been for me, the pyets had been
 
 -Hi. .'.: l'. CORRESPONDENCE WITH ELLIOT. 321 
 
 lie joined the Scottish l>:ir, though he docs not seem 
 to have sought professional practice. 
 
 He was, for a considerable period, a member of Par- 
 liament, and anions other otlices held that of treasurer 
 of the navy. 1 In lighter literature he is known as 
 the author of some pretty pieces of poetry, among 
 which, the popular song of '" My Sheep I neglected," 
 is well esteemed by the admirers of pastoral lyrics. 
 His acquirements as a scholar and philosopher are 
 amply attested by his correspondence with Hume. 
 
 III. Mi: to (iILUERT Kl.LlOT of Mlllto. 
 
 " X'u/./nf/,; mar HiTirh'k; 10/// Frt.r'ooy. 17")!. 
 
 I )i:ak Sir. About six weeks ago, I gave our 
 friend, .luck Stuart, the trouble of delivering you a 
 letter, and some papers enclosed, which 1 was desirous 
 to submit to your criticism and examination. I say 
 not this by way of compliment and ceremonial, but 
 seriously and in u'ood earnest: it is pretty usual for 
 people to be pleased with their own performance, 
 especially in the beat of composition: but 1 have 
 scarcely wrote any thine; more whimsical, or whose 
 merit I am more diffident of. 
 
 I'ut, in sending in these papers, 1 am afraid that 
 
 pvkfll V"lir | cite nil tin.' Netllf r-lmw I'nl't ;" to which tilt 1 IVtniM Wa-, 
 
 ' All (iililiic, (iililiic, had it ii"' Im'imi for mo. vo would hue keen 
 vol writing paper- I' .r ;i j 1 : i k t ho pam'." 
 
 Tlii- Sir (iill.-rt'- iiu and the father of Iluino'- eorre-pundrnt. 
 was rai ! I : I e ; i; di mi Ith .luno, I ;_>(;. and Ix-caino l.m-d Ju-tiee 
 Ch-ik i.ii :M May. IT'-. II.- died on ICth April. 1 :;:. 
 
 1 lie wa- cli" mi iiu -ml. or f..r tin- county of Selkirk in I T"> 1. an. I 
 l?i'_'. aii'i I'm- K"'.l mi 1: -h i r. in 1 ',*;:>. 1 T'iS, an.l 1 7 T t . Hi' 
 cccilt'cl tn tli-' liamnrtov mi !ii father'- death in 1 7 '"' - No wa- made 
 a h'l'il nf the admiralty in 1 7.">'i, tiva.-iirer . f the chainl cr in I ?<;.', 
 keeper of the -i -in 't in Sent la ml m I ?l!?. and t iv a-nror nf the na \ v 
 in 1770. Ho .lied in 1777. ('< Wilis' 1>, . ,-<j< . II ..,'. I'., , 
 
 >lh iil'IT'l /<'/> ' -'. 
 
 VOL. I. V
 
 322 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 I have not taken the best step towards conveying them 
 to your hand. I should also have wrote you to ask 
 for them, otherwise, perhaps, our friend may wear 
 them out in his pocket, and forget the delivery of 
 them : be so good, therefore, as to desire them from 
 him, and having read them at your leisure, return 
 them to him in a packet, and he will send them to 
 me by the carrier. You would easily observe what I 
 mentioned to you, that they had a reference to some 
 other work, and were not complete in themselves : but, 
 with this allowance, are they tolerable ? " * 
 
 The paper to which the following letter refers, was 
 published as an appendix to the " Inquiry concerning 
 the Principles of Morals," to be shortly noticed, and 
 was simply termed, " A Dialogue;" It is, perhaps, 
 more imaginative than any other of Hume's works, 
 " The Epicurean " not excepted. It draws startling 
 contrasts, by taking from ancient and modern times, 
 two communities of men strikingly opposed to each 
 other in habits, and describing those of the one in 
 the social language of the other. In this manner, 
 it gives an account of the vices of the Greeks, in the 
 manner in which they would be described by a modern 
 fashionable Englishman, seeking pleasure and com- 
 panionship in Greece, as it was in the days of Alci- 
 biades. This method of exhibiting national manners 
 through the magnifying glass of national prejudices, has, 
 in later times, been frequently adopted, 2 and, perhaps, 
 owes its popularity to the success with which it was 
 exhibited in Montesquieu's " Lettres IVrsancs," and 
 Goldsmith's '"Citizen of the World.'" 
 
 1 M'mto MS. 
 
 2 See as instances, Washington Irving's " Salmagundi," and 
 Morier's Hani Hal. a."
 
 .!''!'. ''.'-in. COItKKSPOXDKNTK WITH KLLIOT. 
 
 (JlLUKRT Kl.U>T <>f M into, to \\\\\Y. 
 
 F.'.nouy, IT.'.I. 
 Dkai: Sir. I have read uwr your Dialogue, with all the 
 :i|>[lii'ati<in I am master <>f. Tli' hil:-1i I haw newr looked into 
 any thin.;' of war writing, which did nut cither entertain or 
 instruct nie; yd. I mu-t freely own t<> yi'U, that 1 have re- 
 eeivi'd from this la-t piece an additional satisfaction, and 
 what indeed I have a thou-and tinie> wished for in some of 
 your other performances. In the i i i - - r part of this work. you 
 have eiven full 'ojie to the native In nt of your Renins. Tlio 
 aie-ient-- anil moderns, lmw opposite soever in other respects', 
 eijiially eoinhine in favour of the most nnhonnded scepticism. 
 I'rii.ciple.-. cu-toins. and manners, the most contradictory, 
 all -; einiiiLrly had to the -anie end; and agreeably to your 
 laudable practice, the | r reader i- left in the most discon- 
 solate -tate ,,f doubt and uncertainty. When I had got 
 thus far. what d , y,,>i tliink \vi re my -< ntimeiits '. I will not 
 1> so candid a- to t < -1 1 vmi ; but how agreeable was mv sur- 
 jinse. wlien | found vnii bad led me into this maze, with no 
 :' vi: a. than to point out to nie more clearly the direct 
 road. W hv "in i von alwav- write in this manner' In- 
 ilul_ .-';;;: much a- y<>u w ill in -tart iim dill'multies. and 
 p rpb \iu r> 'i i\ i ! i pi ni -n- : but h i u- b- con v inerd at length. 
 v m hav n ' li -- ability to e-tabli-h true principh s, 
 :han -nh'h ty to detert tal-e i-iir,. Tin- unphilos. .pineal, or. 
 
 .' \ 'is will, tin- la/v di-po-itioii of mine, vmi are at liberty 
 !o treat a- you think propel'; yet am I no riimiv to tree in- 
 piiry. and I would Liladlv ilatter niv-elf. im -lave to prejudice 
 
 i" authority. I admit also thai there is no writing or talk- 
 moot' ;.:,', ,-uliji ct that i- of importance eiioimh to become 
 <' ' [ i-i iv;i .mm _. without having recour-e to some 
 di -:> -f -ahth'ty -r retiimmeii! . The ,,nly (jin-t i< m is. 
 -.'.here to -top. how far we ea,n :.o. and why ii" farther. 
 Tolhi- ipn-iioii I -hnuld be extreiiiily happv to r,n ive a 
 -at i-faet-rv ai'-wer. I eand tell if I -hall rmhtlv express 
 
 hat 1 ha 
 
 i,o\\ m m v mini: nut I ! 1 1 n miaa in 
 
 m\-e|t, that I i'1'i'ivnr unlnn me a o ttain in-tmctive 
 
 ;'e, lin-M '.\ il'e'.l - ll o V i - IIUIIV lit nllV all llhtle l'e ti 1 1 fill CU t S, 
 
 and tell- me with authority, thai tin -< airdmilt notions are 
 ineoiisi-tent with life and e\p rieie'e. and, by m-ciju ence
 
 324 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 cannot bo true or solid. From this I am led to think, that 
 the speculative principles of our nature ought to go hand in 
 hand with the practical ones ; and, for my own part, when 
 the former are so far pushed, as to leave the latter quite out 
 of sight, I am always apt to suspect that we have transgressed 
 our limits. If it should be asked how far will these practical 
 principles go \ I can only answer, that the former difficulty 
 will recur, unless it be found that there is something in 
 the intellectual part of our nature, resembling the moral 
 sentiment in the moral part of our nature, which determines 
 this, as it were, instinctively. Very possibly I have wrote 
 nonsense. However, this notion first occurred to me at 
 London, in conversation with a man of some depth of think- 
 ing; and talking of it since to your friend H. Home, he 
 seems to entertain some notions nearly of the same kind, and 
 to have pushed them much farther. 
 
 This is but an idle digression, so I return to the Dialogue. 
 
 With regard to the composition in general, 1 have nothing 
 to observe, as it appears to me to bo conducted with the 
 greatest propriety, and the artifice in the beginning occasions, 
 I think, a very agreeable surprise. 1 don't know, if, in the 
 account of the modern manners, you [had] an eye to 
 Bruyere's introduction to his translation of Theophrastes. 1 
 If you had not, as he has a thought handled prett} r much in 
 that manner, perhaps looking into it might furnish some 
 farther hints to embellish that part of your work." 2 
 
 Hume to Gilbert Elliot of J\ 1 into. 
 
 " Nhicwells, lUih Fehruary, 1751. 
 
 " Dear Sir, Your notion of correcting subtlety of 
 sentiment, is certainly very just with regard to morals, 
 which depend upon sentiment ; and in politics and 
 natural philosophy, whatever conclusion is contrary 
 to certain matters of fact, must certainly be wrong, 
 
 ' Discours sur Theophraste, where there are .some bitter and 
 ju^t remarks on the Parisian manners of l.a Bniyerc's day, as an 
 appropriate introduction to the exhibition of the follies of the 
 Ailii.'iiiiiiis. 2 Scroll, Minto MSS.
 
 .Er. :W-40. CORRESPONDENCE WITH ELLIOT. ;)_>:, 
 
 and there must some error lie somewhere in tin 1 argu- 
 ment, wliether we be able to show it or not. I>ut in 
 metaphysics or theology, I cannot see how either of 
 these plain and obvious standards of truth can have 
 place. Nothing there can correct bad reasoning but 
 good reasoning, and sophistry must be opposed by 
 syllogisms. About seventy or eighty years ago, 1 
 observe. :i principle like that which you advance 
 prevailed very much in France among some philoso- 
 phers and In an r ^sprits. The occasion of it was this: 
 The famous Mons. Nicole of the I'ort Royal, in his 
 1'rrjn'tnitc ib: In l : <>>} pushed the Protestant.- very hard 
 upon the impossibility of the people's reaching a 
 conviction of their religion by the way of private 
 judgment : which required so many disipiisitions. 
 reason inu's. researches, eruditions, impartiality, and 
 jienetratiun, as not one in a hundred even amonu' 
 men of education, is capable of. .Mons. Claude and 
 the Protestants answered him, not by solving his 
 dillieullies. ( which seems imj)Ossible,) but by retort ine; 
 them, (which is very easy.) They showed that to 
 reach the way of authority which the Catholic- insi.-t 
 on, as lung a train of acute reason inn;, and as u'rea! 
 
 1 l.:i i\ti ic'-t wit. !' la K"i. ill* 1' E^li-e I *:th< Ii >^ui' t 1 1 
 
 E'Euchari-tie," a \m1~. It". H;i;!>-li;?<;. A -mailer \\i-rk |iiil'!:-ln'.l 
 1< v th'' -:u m. anther in 1 ml 1, wa> culled La Petite I Vrpetiiit. ." I ' 
 
 I N ienle, "He "f the ill II -t li'HI- rerlll-e- nf the I '. ; f 
 
 Rnval. u a Hi"!'.' etlieit'tit a- a |'"!einieal <ii]n >rti>r "I the | r 1 1 1 < - i 
 el' hi el . ;: - a I'faet ieal :nhnini.-t rat"r !" ir 
 
 An ainu-iii- !"i'\ i !"hl "t hi- un_'uar'h'.l hahit- ami ah e; : e, . i 
 iiiiii*1. \ ' ! el lipiiijli! u 1 1 1 * r hi- ii"t ice, a- her 
 
 a matter nf extreme 'hTicaev. with whieh lie t'. -It it liliie ,'. : 
 
 Seeii nieiit Either !" >u m : . wh 
 
 ha\e much j';>l -tueiit :i 1 1- 1 experience in -uch matter 
 
 ' Ali, liere e ' > eati - ! \ e t he .lillic'ill v." 
 
 t" meet him. t"M the \vh"le ca-e. 1 . i i 1 1 y ami encr_'et ically. T! 
 
 ' i litm.- of the fair [ etiitoiit ma v he inuijiiie-l.
 
 326 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 erudition, was requisite, as would be sufficient for a 
 Protestant. We must first prove all the truths of 
 natural religion, the foundation of morals, the divine 
 authority of the Scripture, the deference which it 
 commands to the church, the tradition of the church, 
 &c. The comparison of these controversial writings 
 begot an idea in some, that it was neither by reason- 
 ing nor authority we learn our religion, but by senti- 
 ment : and certainly this were a very convenient way, 
 and what a philosopher would be very well pleased 
 to comply with, if he could distinguish sentiment 
 from education. But to all appearance the sentiment 
 of Stockholm, Geneva, Rome ancient and modern, 
 Athens and Memphis, have the same characters ; and 
 no sensible man can implicitly assent to any of them, 
 but from the general principle, that as the truth in 
 these subjects is beyond human ca acity, and that as 
 for one's own ease he must adopt some tenets, there 
 is most satisfaction and convenience in holding to the 
 Catholicism we have been first taught. Now this I 
 have nothing to say against. I have only to observe, 
 that such a conduct is founded on the most universal 
 and determined scepticism, joined to a little indolence ; 
 for more curiosity and research gives a direct opposite 
 turn from the same principles. 
 
 " I have amused myself lately with an essay or dis- 
 sertation on the populousness of antiquity, which led 
 me into many disquisitions concerning both the public 
 and domestic life of the ancients. Having read over 
 almost all the classics both Greek and Latin, since I 
 formed that plan, I have extracted what served most 
 to my purpose, lint I have not a Strabo, and know 
 not where to get one in this neighbourhood. lie is 
 an author I never read. I know your library I mean 
 the Advocates' is scrupulous of lending classics ; but
 
 .V.i. :;:>-} . COUKKSI'ONDK.VCK WITH ELLluT. ;;27 
 
 perhaps that difficulty may be <fot over. I should 
 be much obliged to you, it' you could procure me 
 the loan of a copy, either in the original language 
 or even in a u'ood translation. 
 
 "The (i reeks had military dances, particularly the 
 i'yrrhicha : hut these were not practised in their festi- 
 vals nor amidst their jollity. Their way of dancing 
 was very uood for an indolent fellow: for commonly 
 they rose not from their seats, but moved their arms 
 and head in cadence. Tis difficult to imagine there 
 could be much "'race in that kind of dancing. 
 
 ' I -end you enclosed a little endeavour at drollery, 
 against some people who care not much to he joked 
 upon. 1 I have frequently had it in my intentions to 
 write a supplement to ( Julliver. containing the ridi- 
 cule of priests. Twas certainly a pity that Swift 
 was a parson: had he heen a lawyer or physician, 
 we had nevertheless heen entertained at the expense 
 of these professions : hut priests are so jealous, that 
 thev cannot hear to 1"' touched on that head, and for 
 a plain reason, because they are conscious they are 
 really ridiculous. That part of the Doctor's subject 
 is so fertile, that a much infeiior senilis 1 am conli- 
 dent miu'ht succeed in it. 
 
 "Tell .lack Stuart, as soon as you see him, that 1 
 have sent you the copy, if he can make any thine;" of 
 it. I intended to have had it printed, but I know 
 not how - I find it will not do. If you like the 
 thine. I wi-h you would contrive together some way 
 of eettine over the difficulties that have arisen, the 
 most stnmu'elv in the world. I am. t.\:c." J 
 
 Anioue tin 
 
 1 |'rl. : il.lv 
 - Mint.. M: 
 
 mitted to t he inspection <i 
 
 ! ::' \ .
 
 328 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 Mr. Elliot, were the " Dialogues concerning Natu- 
 ral Religion," which were not published until after 
 their author's death, but which the following letter 
 shows to have been written before the year 1751. 
 The manuscript of this work x is full of emenda- 
 tions and corrections ; and while the sentiments 
 appear to be substantially the same as when they 
 were first set down, the alterations in the method of 
 announcing them are a register of the improvements 
 in their author's style, for a period apparently of 
 twenty-seven years. Here at least he could not 
 plead the excuse of youth and indiscretion. The 
 work, penned in the full vigour of his faculties, comes 
 to us with the sanction of his mature years, and his 
 approval when ho was within sight of the grave. 
 Whatever sentiments, therefore, in this work, may be 
 justly found to excite censure, carry with them a 
 reproach from which their author's name cannot 
 escape. 
 
 The Dialogues are written with a solemn simplicity 
 of tone worthy of the character of the subject. The 
 structure is in a great measure that of Cicero, though 
 there appears not, as there generally does in the con- 
 versations professed to be recorded by the Roman 
 moralist, any one mind completely predominating over 
 the others. Of the interlocutors, Philo presents him- 
 self, at first as a materialist of the Spinoza school, who 
 finds that the material world has within itself the 
 principles of its own motion and development the 
 operating causes that produce its phenomena ; while ho 
 denies that these phenomena exhibit an all perfect 
 structure, lie is not, however, a man of scttledopinions, 
 but rather a sceptical demolisher of other people's 
 views; and we find him saying, " I must confess that 
 1 In the MSS. R.S.E.
 
 .Ei. :>-.)- L<>. DIALOGUES ON NATURAL RELIGION. 30.) 
 
 1 am less cautious on the subject of natural religion 
 than on any other ; both because L know that 1 can 
 never, on that head, corrupt the principles of any 
 man of common sense; and because no one, I am 
 confident, in whose eyes I appear a man of common 
 sense, will over mistake my intentions. ^ oil in par- 
 ticular. Cleanthes, with whom 1 live in unreserved 
 intimacy, you are sensible, that notwithstanding the 
 freedom of my conversation, and my love of singular 
 arguments, no one has a deeper sense of religion im- 
 pressed on his mind, or pays more profound adoration 
 to the 1 >ivine Being, as he discovers himself to reason, 
 in the inexplicable contrivance and artifice of nature." 
 Cleanthes, another speaker, has created a natural 
 religion of his own a system of Theism, in which, 
 by induction from the beautiful order and mechanism 
 of the world, he has reasoned himself into the belief 
 of an all-wise and all-powerful Supreme Being. lie 
 holds, that "the most agreeable reflection which it is 
 possible for human imagination to suggest, is that of 
 genuine Tln'i.-ni. which represents us as the workman- 
 ship of a being perfectly good, wise, and powerful, 
 who created us for happiness: and who. having im- 
 planted in us immeasurable desires of good, will 
 prolong our existence to all eternity, and will transfer 
 us into an iniinite variety of scenes, in order to satisfy 
 those dt -ires, and render our felicity complete and 
 durable." And. strangely enough, it is with this one 
 that the author shows most sympathy, very nearly 
 professing that the doctrine announced by Cleanthes 
 is his own; while it will be found in his correspon- 
 dence, that he admits his having designedly endeavoured 
 to make the argument of that speaker the most attrac- 
 tive. This is another illustration of the inapplicability 
 of perfectly abstract metaphysical disquisitions to
 
 330 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 religious faith ; for, if there is any system of reli- 
 gion that is incompatible with Hume's metaphysical 
 opinions on ideas and impressions, it is a system that 
 is, like this of Cleanthes, the workmanship of human 
 reason. The third speaker, Demea, is a devoutly 
 religious man, who, not venturing to create a system 
 of belief for himself, sees in the order of the world 
 such a merciful and wise dispensation of Divine Provi- 
 dence, as induces him to receive the whole revealed 
 scheme of religion without questioning those parts of 
 it which are beyond his comprehension, any more 
 than he questions those of which the wisdom and 
 goodness are immediately apparent. 
 
 The general scope and purport of the Dialogues are 
 not unlike those of Voltaire's Jenni. In both, the 
 argument on natural theology, illustrating the exis- 
 tence of a ruling mind from the general order and 
 harmony of created things, is adduced, and is measured 
 with its counterpart, the argument from the imper- 
 fection of earthly tilings, and the calamities and un- 
 happiness of the beings standing at the head of the 
 whole social order, mankind. But in the mere 
 similarity of the argument the resemblance stops ; no 
 two performances can be more unlike each other in 
 tone and spirit than the English sceptic's honest 
 search after truth, and the French infidel's ribald 
 sport with all that men love and revere. The con- 
 trast may be found not only in these individual 
 men, but in the two classes of thinkers at the head 
 of which they respectively stood. Hume represented 
 the cautious conscientious inquiry, which has esta- 
 blished many truths and gradually ameliorated social 
 evils; the Frenchman directed that scornful, care- 
 less, and cruel sport with whatever is dear and im- 
 portant to humanity, which one day bowed to abso-
 
 .Er. .';:)-;<<. rOHRKSPONDKNCK \VITI1 KLLlnT. ;& \ 
 
 Into despotism, and the next destroyed the whole 
 t'ahrie of social order.' 
 
 1 1 1 mj: /-/ ( i u.i'.i;;; i Ku.n >r nlWHitln. 
 
 Sin.'rJ/,; .. lJ.r>ri,l; 
 
 M >,/, lii, lTM. 
 
 Dkak Sir. You would perceive l > \ tin.' sample I 
 have Li'ivun you. that I make Clcanthes the hero of 
 tin* dialou'iii' : whatever you can think of. to strengthen 
 that >idi' of the argument, will he most acceptable t > 
 
 Tl : !- KVv. Dr. M..ivIm-:i.1 ..f St. Paul's ( 'li:i[.i-l in F.dinlmrji. 
 w! i wa- i-i'M'i'i'il a- a ininiMcr. ami y>>-\< c - 1 1 - ! a- a -<dndar and 
 j>liiln~i,]ili.-r. jmlili-lifl in ls'je. Dial"_ r im~ mi Natural ami \'\<- 
 \' i -a! I'd IJi'lij-ii'ii." a |ili'a-i'u' cuntinnatiiai nt' tin' wi.rk w- La\ - jm! 
 . in v. 1 1 : - : i t lii- -j'-ak-r- ar- 1:1a If ' . \ , \ :[ i'di a 
 i' : ..-.'.:! ' ': ' r\- ii'.'. a "]>M ' . ' ' n !'' I 
 
 I Lad r-ad In tin- Mid ,.f limn-' Ii;:]. : 
 l''i'"i:i a ;a ' I v Dr. M. a-L-ad. I am t*-ni]*t*-*i I" -\tra-i 1 1 , . I' .IL. , 
 m_ r ]: i : "Mr. 1 1 liii.i: wa- ('"ii.-rmu- I In ' :. [ . : . [: 
 
 Lai.! v v. \. '.'.< 1, i' ,:''.: mak in _- hi in a ; in in. . d t !.. -i r . : 
 
 < in ha\ I. ad a iir a. l! !: La : 
 
 I Lit' 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
 laL' nf l!ii |ii"f'Mind tliinkir dm i I v< ' : I 
 
 : i ' I.;! Li -t - i if a _'////. /'nl |i'i-'i'i'i! v : and if. wL-n lii- t-rr. ! 
 
 La \ i' pa I'd aw av. 1." <\< -- m>t v. I rniiH' t > 1 * 
 
 : -. L'i La - mad.' T 1 1 . - im I |.. n-1 rai inland 
 -i ar-li- in -i-n- uf I t, . I ! 
 
 an a! "iii! \ ' lm La- di - . < - 1 1 it t Km Helmut < \ -r v ! i 1 -r- and imn < : 
 ami I ' may In' partly paril'iimd, | > 1 1 ;;i ] >-. if. in tlii ' ' : 
 
 L | < : ..' : . I.i- La |m i, .-;.!, \,, --ft ,,f I D. j > - : : i . - ' ; ' -..f i< : 
 
 Tl.- Dial... -n Xatai .1 I.'. '. 
 L;:m !al.-n Cm I ' 1 I Hi. M ; . Il I- !" 1 La, I 
 
 i ii d I' ! 
 
 uLi-L L- 1 i antiiaily r-j iv . m-d tL- I'l i! - ! : i 
 
 I.iiii-. If -n; '. : _'. 'I'l li'tl- v.. ; i. u:i | , ; 
 
 dia'L. I,y a .I :in_vd.-l ' . i\ I... | I 
 
 in !] t"\\ ard- th- ] " ; . ' ' a "I < 'Lr:- ' :an ]: '[>l.v. tiiaii : : v 
 
 .tin r li\ inir writ, r . f tl, Ii:
 
 332 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 me. Any propensity you imagine I have to the other 
 side, crept in upon me against my will ; and 'tis not 
 long ago that I burned an old manuscript book, wrote 
 before I was twenty, which contained, page after page, 
 the gradual progress of my thoughts on that head. 
 It began with an anxious search after arguments, to 
 confirm the common opinion ; doubts stole in, dis- 
 sipated, returned; were again dissipated, returned 
 again ; and it was a perpetual struggle of a restless 
 imagination against inclination, perhaps against 
 reason. 
 
 " I have often thought, that the best way of compos- 
 ing a dialogue, would be for two persons that are of 
 different opinions about any question of importance, to 
 write alternately the different parts of the discourse, 
 and reply to each other : by this means, that vulgar 
 error would be avoided, of putting nothing but nonsense 
 into the mouth of the adversary ; and at the same 
 time, a variety of character and genius being upheld, 
 would make the whole look more natural and 
 unaffected. Had it been my good fortune to live near 
 you, I should have taken on me the character of 
 Philo, in the dialogue, which you'll own I could 
 have supported naturally enough ; and you would 
 not have been averse to that of Cleanthes. I believe, 
 too, we could both of us have kept our tempers very 
 well ; only, you have not reached an absolute philo- 
 sophical indifference on these points. What danger 
 can ever come from ingenious reasoning and inquiry ? 
 The worst speculative sceptic ever I knew, was a 
 much better man than the best superstitious devotee 
 and bigot. I must inform you, too, that this was the 
 way of thinking of the ancients on this subject. If a 
 man made a profession of philosophy, whatever his 
 sect was, they always expected to find more regularity
 
 .Ei. .",!-!<. CORRESPONDENT!-: WITir ELLIOT. 
 
 iii lii--? life and manner?, than in those of the ignorant and 
 illiterate. There is a remarkable passage of Appian to 
 this purpose. That historian observes, that notwith- 
 standing the established prepossession in favour of 
 learning, yet sonic philosophers, who have been trusted 
 with absolute power, have very much abused it: and 
 he instances Critias, the most violent of the thirty, 
 and Ariston. who governed Athens in the time of 
 Sylla : but 1 find, upon inquiry, that Critias was a 
 professed Atheist, and Ariston an Kpicurean, which is 
 little or nothing ditferent. And yet Appian wonders 
 at their corruption, us much as if they had been 
 Stoics or I'latonists. A modern zealot would have 
 thought that corruption unavoidable. 
 
 I could wish Clcanthes' argument could be so 
 analyzed, as to be rendered quite formal and regular. 
 The' propensity of the mind towards it. unless that 
 propensity were as strong and universal as that to 
 believe in our senses and experience, will still, I am 
 afraid, be esteemed a suspicious foundation. "l'is 
 here I wish for your assistance ; we must endeavour 
 to prove that this propensity is somewhat different 
 from our inclination to find our own figures in the 
 clouds, our faces in the moon, our passions and senti- 
 ment.'- even in inanimate matter. Such an inclination 
 may, and ought to be controlled, and can never be a 
 legitimate ground of assent. 
 
 " Tin' instances 1 have chosen for Clcanthes are, I 
 hope, tolerably happy, and the confusion in which I 
 represent the sceptic seems natural, but si quid 
 novisti rectius. \'c 
 
 Von ask inc. //' tl>> 'nlm <>f ini'si <!,,>/ , //,' ,/ is 
 untlii 'mi hut riciitifj/, (you should have said constant 
 vicinity, or, regular conjunction.! I should be glad 
 
 to know >cl/r,/rr is that fiirtli' r />/< n nf rmisiitinn (K/'/i/nt
 
 334 TnE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 which you argue ? This question is pertinent, but I 
 hope I have answered it ; we feel, after the constant 
 conjunction, an easy transition from one idea to the 
 other, or a connexion in the imagination ; and as 
 it is usual for us to transfer our own feelings to the 
 objects on which they are dependent, we attach the 
 internal sentiment to the external objects. If no 
 single instances of cause and effect appear to have 
 any connexion, but only repeated similar ones, you 
 will find yourself obliged to have recourse to this 
 theory. 
 
 " I am sorry our correspondence should lead us into 
 these abstract speculations. I have thought, and read, 
 and composed very little on such questions of late. 
 Morals, Politics, and Literature have employed all my 
 time ; but still the other topics I must think morecurious, 
 important, entertaining, and useful, than any geometry 
 that is deeper than Euclid. If in order to answer 
 the doubts started, new principles of philosophy must 
 be laid, are not these doubts themselves very useful? 
 Are they not preferable to blind, and ignorant assent? 
 I hope I can answer my own doubts ; but if I could 
 not, is it to be wondered at ? To give myself airs, 
 and speak magnificently, might I not observe, that 
 Columbus did not conquer empires and plant colonies? 
 
 " If I have not unravelled the knot so well, in those 
 last papers I sent you, as perhaps I did in the former, 
 it lias not, I assure you, proceeded from want of good 
 will; but some subjects are easier than others : at some 
 times one is happier in his researches and inquiries 
 than at others. Still I have recourse to the si quid 
 j/oris/i rcctius ; not in order to pay you a compliment, 
 but from a real philosophical doubt and curiosity. 1 
 
 1 Down t<> this point, the letter is printed in Dugald Stewart's 
 Preliminary Dissertation to The Encyclopaedia Britannica, Note ccc.
 
 .Kr. .;:>-!". CORKKSrONDKNCK WITH EI.I.IOT. 
 
 " I do not pay compliments, because I do not desire 
 them. For this reason. 1 am very well pleased you 
 speak so coldly of my petition. I had. however, uiven 
 orders to have it printed, whieli perhaps may be exe- 
 cuted, though 1 hclieve I liad better have let it alone; 
 not because it will e'ive you offence, but because it will 
 give no entertainment; not because it may be called 
 profane, but because it may perhaps be deservedly 
 called dull. To tell the truth. I was always so in- 
 dill'erent about fortune, and especially now, that I am 
 mure advanced in life, and am a little more at my 
 ease, suited to my extreme frugality, that I neith t 
 fear nor hope any thing from man: and am very in- 
 different either about offence or favour. Not only. I 
 would not sacrifice truth and reason to political views, 
 but scarce even a jest. You may tell me. I oiiu'ht to 
 have reversed tie' order of these point-, and put the 
 jest first : as it is usual for people to be the fondest of 
 their performances on subjects on which they are least 
 made to excel, and that, consequently. 1 would Li'ive 
 more' to he thought a e,ood droll, than to have the 
 praises of erudition, and subtilty, end invention. 
 This malicious insinuation, I "v "- 111 n'ive no answer to, 
 but proceed with my subject. 
 
 '" I find, however. 1 have' no more to say on it. but to 
 thank you for S ! ru/>n. If the carrier who will deliver 
 this to you do not find you at home, you will please 
 send the book to his <piarters: his name is Thomas 
 Henderson, the Kerwiek carrier; lie leaves, town on 
 the Thursdays, about the middle of the day; he puts 
 up at dames Henderson, stabler, betwixt the foot of 
 Cant's ( dose and 1 Jlackfriur's W'ynd. After you have 
 doim with these papers, please return them by the" 
 same carrier; but there is no hurry; on the contrary 
 the longer you keep them. I shall still believe you
 
 33G THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 are thinking the more seriously to execute what I 
 desire of you. I am, dear Sir, 
 
 " Yours most sincerely." 
 
 " P.S. If you'll be persuaded to assist me with 
 Cleanthes, I fancy you need not take matters any 
 higher than part 3d. He allows, indeed, in part 2d, 
 that all our inference is founded on the similitude of 
 the works of nature to the usual effects of mind, 
 otherwise they must appear a mere chaos. The only 
 difficulty is, why the other assimilations do not 
 weaken the argument; and indeed it would seem from 
 experience and feeling, that they do not weaken it so 
 much as we might naturally expect. A theory to 
 solve this would be very acceptable." 1 
 
 Hume to Gilbert Elliot of M into. 
 
 1751. 
 
 " Dear Sir, I am sorry your keeping these papers 
 has proceeded from business and avocations, and not 
 from your endeavours to clear up so difficult an argu- 
 ment. I despair not, however, of getting some assis- 
 tance from you ; the subject is surely of the greatest 
 
 1 M into MSS. In this collection there is a scroll of a letter written 
 hy Mr. Elliot to I runic, returning the manuscripts to which 
 the correspondence refers. It has been published in the notes (ccc,) 
 to Dugahl Stewart's Preliminary Dissertation. It is not only a 
 criticism of the Dialogues on Natural Religion, but an examination 
 of Hume's general theory of impressions and ideas, worthy of the per- 
 usal of all who take interest in these inquiries. It is of considerable 
 length, and the temptation to print it along with Hume's letter, was 
 only overcome by the circumstance that it is to be found in a work 
 widely circulated, and that the disposable space in this book may 
 be more economically devoted to some letters of Sir Ciilbcrt Elliot 
 which are not to be found elsewhere.
 
 a: i. -uk 
 
 HIS BROTHER'S MARRIAGE. 
 
 importance, and the views of it .so new as to challenge 
 
 some attention. 
 
 " I believe the Philosophical Kssays contain every 
 thing of consequence relating to the understandim:. 
 which you "would meet with in the Treatise: and I 
 give you my advice against reading the latter. By 
 shortening andsimplifyinu' the questions, I really render 
 them much more complete. A<hl<> <hnn mi mm. The 
 philosojthical principles are the same in both : but I 
 was carried away by the heat of youth and invention 
 to publish too precipitately. So vast an undertaking, 
 planned before I was one-and-twenty, and composed be- 
 fore twenty-five, must necessarily be very defective. 1 
 have repented my haste a hundred, and a hundred times. 
 
 " I return Strabo. whom I have found very judi- 
 cious and useful. I give you a L r reat many thank- for 
 your trouble. I am." \'e. 
 
 Hume's elder brother. .John, the laird of Xinewells, 
 was married in ] 7-~> 1 : and the following letter, en- 
 livened by touebe- of li'_dit and even elegant raillery, 
 scarcely excelled in the writings of Addi-on, evidently 
 refers to that event. The plan of life which he sets 
 forth was afterwards altered, at least in so far as he 
 had then in view a place of residence. 
 
 Ih mi: in Mrs. Dysaui-. 1 
 
 'A'///. ",//,-. .v.,,-.-/, \\>th, i ; m. 
 " 1)i:\i; M.M'AM. Our friend at la.-d plucked up a 
 resolution, and has ventured on that dangerous en 
 counter. lie went oil' on Monday morning: and thi- 
 is the Jir>t action <>f his life wherein be has en ,f a r ed 
 
 ! .Mrs. Dvsirt ..f !>.; . "a i, :!..!, x ;tls:. 1 u-];n\. n . I' Ilini 
 according to Ma'k<>n/V- A<v..".iit < '.' '.!,. I.::'- t" 1 1 nine, j . ] n i. 
 
 vol. i. /
 
 338 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 himself, without being able to compute exactly the 
 consequences. But what arithmetic will serve to fix 
 the proportion between good and bad wives, and rate 
 the different classes of each ? Sir Isaac Newton 
 himself, who could measure the course of the planets, 
 and weigh the earth as in a pair of scales, even he 
 had not algebra enough to reduce that amiable part 
 of our species to a just equation ; and they are the 
 only heavenly bodies whose orbits are as yet 
 uncertain. 
 
 " If you think yourself too grave a matron to have 
 this florid part of the speech addressed to you, pray 
 lend it to the Collector, and he will send it to Miss 
 Nancy. 
 
 " Since my brother's departure, Katty and I have 
 been computing in our turn, and the result of our 
 deliberation is, that w 7 e are to take up house in Ber- 
 wick ; where, if arithmetic and frugality don't deceive 
 us, (and they are pretty certain arts) we shall be able, 
 after providing for hunger, warmth, and cleanliness, 
 to keep a stock in reserve, which we may afterwards 
 turn either to the purposes of hoarding, luxury, or 
 charity. But I have declared beforehand against the 
 first ; I can easily guess which of the other two you 
 and Mr. Dysart will be most favourable to. But we 
 reject your judgment ; for nothing blinds one so much 
 as inveterate habits. 
 
 " My compliments to his Solicitorship. 1 Unfortu- 
 nately I have not a horse at present to carry my fat 
 carcass, to pay its respects to his superior obesity. 
 But if lie finds travelling requisite either for his 
 health or the captain's, we shall be glad to entertain 
 him here, as long as we can do it at another's expense; 
 in hopes we shall soon be able to do it at our own. 
 
 ' Alexander Home, Solicitor-general for Scotland. Mackenzie.
 
 A]y. R9-40. 
 
 I AT MKN. 
 
 .339 
 
 Pray tell the Solicitor that 1 have been reading 
 lately, in an old author called Stniho, that in some 
 cities of ancient Gaul, there "was a fixed lenal stan- 
 dard established for corpulency : and that the senate 
 kept a measure, beyond which, if any belly presumed 
 to increase, the proprietor of that belly was obliged 
 to pay a fine to the public, proportionable to its 
 rotundity. Ill would it fare with his worship and I, 1 
 if such a law should pass our parliament ; for 1 am 
 afraid we are already got beyond the statute. 
 
 ' 1 wonder, indeed, no harpy of the treasury has ever 
 thought of this method of raising money. Taxes on 
 luxury are always most approved of; and no one will 
 say, that the carrying about a portly belly is of any 
 use or necessity. 'Tis a mere superfluous ornament ; 
 and is a proof, too. that its proprietor enjoys greater 
 plenty than he puts to :i u'ood use ; and, therefore, 'tis 
 tit tn reduce him to a level with his fellow-subjects. 
 by ta\e< and impositions. 
 
 ' As the h-an people are the most active, umjuiet, 
 and ambition-, tlmy every where govern the world, 
 and may certainly oppress their antagonists whenever 
 they please. Heaven forbid that W hiu' and Tory 
 should ever be abolished; for then the nation miuht 
 be split into fat and lean; and our faction. 1 am afraid, 
 would be in piteous taking. The only comfort is, if 
 they oppressed us very much, we should at last change 
 sides with them. 
 
 l>e-ides. who knows if a tax were imposed on fat- 
 ness, but some jealous divine miudit pretend that the 
 church was in danger. 
 
 v - 1 cannot but bless the memory of d alius ( ':esar. \'<>v 
 the u'reat esteem ho expressed for fat men. and his 
 aversion to lean ones. All the world allows, that
 
 S 40 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 175 J. 
 
 that emperor was the greatest genius that ever was, 
 and the greatest judge of mankind. 
 
 " But I should ask your pardon, dear madam, for this 
 long dissertation on fatness and leanness, in which you 
 are no way concerned ; for you are neither fat nor 
 lean, and may indeed be denominated an arrant 
 trimmer. But this letter may all be read to the 
 Solicitor ; for it contains nothing that need be a secret 
 to him. On the contrary, I hope he will profit by the 
 example ; and, were I near him, I should endeavour to 
 prove as good an encourageras in this other instance. 
 What can the man be afraid of? The Mayor of 
 London had more courage, who defied the hare. 1 
 
 " But I am resolved some time to conclude, by 
 putting a grave epilogue to a farce, and telling you a 
 real serious truth, that I am, with great esteem, dear 
 madam, your most obedient humble servant. 2 
 
 " P.S. Pray let the Solicitor tell Frank, that he is 
 a bad correspondent the only way in which he can 
 be a bad one, by his silence." 
 
 We find, through the whole of his acts and written 
 thoughts before his return from the embassy to Turin, 
 the indications of an earnest wisli to possess the 
 means of independent livelihood, suitable to one 
 belonirinii' to the middle classes of life. Great wealth 
 or ornamental rank he seems never to have desired : 
 but the circumstance of his having, in the year 1748, 
 achieved the means of independence through his 
 official emoluments, seems to have taken so strong a 
 hold of his mind, that nearly thirty years afterwards, 
 
 1 In allusion to that mayor who, on his first introduction to field 
 sports, hearing a cry that the hare was coming, exclaimed, in a lit 
 "i magnanimous courage, "Let him come, in God's name; 1 fear 
 him not ! " 
 
 Mackenzie's Home, n. 101. The original is in the MSS. R.S.E.
 
 .F.r. -lo. ins Itd.MKSTir ARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 341 
 
 in writing li is autobiography, lie speaks with exul- 
 tation of his having heen then in possession of 
 1000. The position of the man in comfortable 
 circumstances, equally removed from the dread of 
 want, and the uneasy pressure of superfluous wealth. 
 appears always to have presented itself as the nio>{ 
 desirahle fate which, in mere pecuniary matters, 
 fortune could have in store' for him : and no com- 
 mentary on the sacred text has perhaps better illus- 
 trated its application to the conduct and ft clings of 
 mankind, than his adaptation of Agur's prayer to the 
 middle station in life, at a time when he was far from 
 having realized that happy mediocrity of fortune, of 
 which he gives so pleasing a picture. 
 
 Agur"- prayi t is sufficiently noted Two tiling have I 
 required of thee; deny nic them n< >t before I .li.' : remove 
 tar from nic vanity and lii-s ; give inc neither poverty nor 
 riches; feed nie with food convenient for me. h-t 1 he full 
 and deny tine, and say. who is the Lord .' nr lot I l>e poor, 
 and -leal, and lake the name of my (Joel in vain."'- The 
 middle -taii'in i- here ju.-tly recommended, as all' .f. li n_ the 
 i'ulle-t security tor virtue; and 1 may al-o add. that ii mve- 
 ejijiuia unity I'm - the most ample exercise uf it. and fumi-he- 
 em ploy iin ut l'nr every good ipialit v which we can j - ; 1 > 1 \ he 
 po-sessed nf. Tli"-e who ai e placed among (he lower rank- 
 of men. have little opportunity (if exerting anv other virttn 
 besides tlnxe "('patience. resignation, industry, and inte-ritv. 
 Tlm-e wlm are advanced into the higher stations, have ("nil 
 employment for their generosity, humanit v, atl'alulitv. and 
 charity. \\ Inn a man lies hetwixt the-e two extreme-, h 
 can i \ert the firmer virtues toward.- hi< -uperi"]--. and t! 
 hitter toward- hi- interior-. I'lvery moral ipialitv wle h t!ie 
 human .-mil i- -u-cejitihle of. niav have ii- tuiai. and }>< 
 called up to action ; and a man may. alter this mami' r. he 
 much more certain o| hi- progre-- in virtue, than where hi 
 good ipiali'ie- lie dormant, and without i mplovmeiit .' 
 
 ! I\.--uv- .Moral and Political, euUi-hed in 17 11
 
 342 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 The following letter, of a somewhat later date, 
 gives a view of his definitive intentions. 
 
 Hume to Michael Ramsay. 
 
 " Ninewells, 22d June, 1751. 
 
 " Dear Michael, I cannot sufficiently express 
 my sense of your kind letter. The concern you take 
 in your friends is so warm, even after so long absence, 
 and such frequent interruptions as our commerce has 
 unhappily met with of late years, that the most recent 
 familiarity of others can seldom equal it. I might per- 
 haps pretend, as well as others, to complain of fortune ; 
 but I do not, and should condemn myself as unreason- 
 able if I did. While interest remains as at present, I 
 have 50 a-year, a hundred pounds worth of books, 
 great store of linens and fine clothes, and near 100 in 
 my pocket ; along with order, frugality, a strong spirit 
 of independency, good health, a contented humour, and 
 an unabating love of study. In these circumstances 
 I must esteem myself one of the happy and fortunate ; 
 and so far from being willing to draw my ticket over 
 again in the lottery of life, there are very few prizes 
 with which I would make an exchange. After some 
 deliberation, I am resolved to settle in Edinburgh, 
 and hope I shall be able with these revenues to say 
 with Horace 
 
 Est bona librorum ct provisae frugis in annum 
 Copia. 
 
 Besides other reasons which determine me to this 
 resolution, I would not go too far away from my 
 sister, who thinks she will soon follow me ; and 
 in that case, we shall probably take up house either 
 in Edinburgh, or the neighbourhood. Our sister-in- 
 law behaves well, and seems very desirous we should 
 both stay
 
 ->'" HI- DOMESTIC AKRANCEMKNTS. ;; j ;; 
 
 And as she (my .sister) can join C'JUa-ycar to my stock, 
 and brings an e<pial love of order and frugality, we 
 doubt not to make our revenues answer. I >r. ( dephane, 
 who lias taken uj> liouse. is so kind as to offer me a 
 room in it ; and two friend-, in Kdiiilmr^h have made 
 me the same oiler. hut having nothing to ask or 
 solicit at London. I would not remove to so expensive 
 a place: and am resolved to keep clear of all obliga- 
 tions and dependencies, even on those 1 love the 
 most.*' ' 
 
 In fulfilment of the design thus announced. In 1 
 tells us. in his '"own life." "In 1751. I removed 
 from the country to the town, the true scene for a 
 man of letters." We find, from the dating of his 
 letters, that Hume's residence in Ldinburi^h was for 
 a year or two in *' Kiddell's Land." and that it was 
 afterwards in * Jack's Land." Since the plan of 
 numbering the houses in each street extended to the 
 Scottish capital, these names have no longer been in 
 general use; },iit 1 tin < I that the former applied to an 
 edifice in the Lawnmarket, near the head of the \\ , - 
 How, and that the latter was a tenement in the 
 Canon^ate, riu'ht opposite to a house in which 
 Smollet occasionally resided with his sister. The 
 term "Land" applied to one of those edifices 
 some of them ten or twelve stories hii,di, in which 
 the citizens of Kdinbur^h, pressed upwards as it 
 were by the increase of the population within a 
 narrow circuit of walls, made stair-cases supply the 
 place of ,-treets, and erected perpendicular thorough- 
 fare.-. A single floor of one of these edifices was. a 
 centurv aii'o. .-ulticient to accommodate the familv of a 
 
 1 l-'i'inii :i C"]'V tnm-iiiii tfl 1'V li.iiu-ay- n>'].li.'\v to I'm - , mi 1 1 una*, 
 ill.- MSS. U.'s.K. Til- I.liuih .1. ii .n.-l ;il...\.' i- in tl oi-v.
 
 344 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 Scottish nobleman ; and we may be certain, that a very 
 small " Flat" would suit the economical establish- 
 ment of Hume. 
 
 In 1751, appeared the "Inquiry concerning the 
 Principles of Morals," 1 the full development, so far as 
 it was made by Hume, of the utilitarian system. The 
 leading principle kept in view throughout this work, 
 is, that its tendency to be useful to mankind at large, 
 is the proper criterion of the propriety of any action, or 
 the justness of any ethical opinion. In this spirit he 
 examines many of the social virtues, and shows that 
 it is their usefulness to mankind that gives them a 
 claim to sympathy, and a title to be included in the list 
 of virtues. The defects of this exposition of the utili- 
 tarian system, are marked by the manner in which it 
 was critically attacked. In 1753 a controversial 
 examination of it was made, with temper and ability, 
 by James Balfour of Pilrig, 2 who in 1754 succeeded 
 
 ! London : Svo, printed for A. Millar. It is in the book list of 
 the Gentleman's Magazine, for December. 
 
 2 " A Delineation of the Nature and Obligation of Morality, with 
 Reflections upon Mr. Hume's book, entitled an ' Inquiry concern- 
 ing the Principles of Morals.'" 
 
 On the publication of this book, Hume wrote the following letter, 
 addressed " To the Author of the Delineation of the Nature and 
 Obligations of Morality," and left it with the bookseller. 
 
 "Su:. When I write you. I know not to whom I am address- 
 ing myself : I oidy know he is one who has done me a great deal of 
 honour, and to whose civilities I am obliged. If we be strangers, 
 I beg we may be acquainted, as soon as you think proper to dis- 
 cover yourself : if we be acquainted already, I beg we may be 
 friends : if friends, I beg we may be more so. Our connexion with 
 each other as men of letters, is greater than our difference as ad- 
 hering to different sects or systems. Let us revive the happy 
 times, when Atticus and Cassius the epicureans, Cicero the acade- 
 mic and Brutus the stoic, could all of tlieni live in unreserved 
 friendship together, and were insensible to all those distinctions, 
 rxcept -o far as they furnished agreeable matter to discourse and
 
 .Ft. !<>. 
 
 Til ROR Y OF MORALS. 
 
 :n 
 
 to the chair, in the university of Edinburgh, wliicli 
 flume hail been desirous of filling. 1 .Mr. Balfour's 
 irreat argument is tlie universality of the admission by 
 
 conversation. Perhaps you arc a younir man. ami beim: full of 
 those sublime ideas, which you have so well expressed, think there 
 can he no virtue upon a nr re confined sv-tem. I am not an old 
 fine; but. heiiiir <>f a coo] temperament, have always fund, that 
 more simple \ iew.- were -utlieient to make me act in a reasonable 
 manner; ;/';. v. r u l-'u.y*,', d-f-n'. ; in this faith have 1 lived, and 
 hope t.i die. 
 
 Vciir c:\ ilitie- to me so much o verbal a nee yuiir severities, that 
 I -hould he uuirrateful to take notice of some expressions which, in 
 the heat of composition, have dropped from your pen. I must only 
 complain id* vmi a little for ascriltinir to me the sentiments, which 
 1 have put into the mouth of the Sceptic in the "1 )ialo^ue." I have 
 surely endeavoured to refute the sceptic, with all the force of which 
 1 am nia-ter ; and my refutation mu-t 1"' allowed sincere, because 
 drawn from the capital principle- of my system. But you impute 
 to me lmth the -entinicin- of the -ceptic. and the sentiments of his 
 antaironi-t. which I can never admit of. In every dialogue no more 
 than one per-on can he -apposed to repre-ent the author. 
 
 Y"iir -evcrity on one head, that of chastity, is so irreat, and 1 
 am so little conscioa of havimr _'iveu anvjiist occasion to it, that 
 it lias ;it!'orded me a hint to form a conjecture, perhaps ill-grounded, 
 concerninir \< uir ] -r~i ui . 
 
 I hope to -teal a little lei-ure from my other occupation-, in 
 order to defend my philo-ophv airain-t your attacks. If I have 
 occasion to u'ive a new edition of the w ork, which you have honoured 
 with an an-wer, I -hall make irreat ad \ ant a ire of your remark-, and 
 hope to obviate -nine ol your criticisms. 
 
 Your style is eleirant, and full of airreeable imairery. In -mne 
 few place- it dm' not fully come up to my idea- of purity and 
 correctne-s. 1 -uppi.-e mine fall - -till further short of your ideas. 
 In tin- re-port, wo may certainly be of u-e to each other. W ith 
 reirard to our philosophical -y.-teins. I -appose we are both so fixed, 
 that t here i- no hope of ;my coin er-i mis bet w i\t n- ; and hu- my 
 pari. I doubt im! but we -hall both do a- well to remain a- we are. 
 
 I am. eve. 
 
 /;./,V, :ir,h, M ,,-' 1'.. :r:,::." 
 
 1 It is stated in Ritchie's Account of the Life and Writini'- <>f 
 Hume," from which the above letter is taken, and in some works < f
 
 346 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 mankind, in some shape or other, of the leading car- 
 dinal virtues, and the unhesitating adoption and prac- 
 tice of them by men on whom the utilitarian theory 
 never dawned, and who are unconscious that their 
 isolated acts are the fulfilment of any general or uniform 
 law. Mr. Balfour argued that we must thus look to 
 something else than utility, as the criterion of moral 
 right and wrong. But a supporter of the utilitarian 
 system, as it has been more fully developed in later days, 
 would probably only take from Mr. Balfour's argument 
 a hint to enlarge the scope of Hume's investigations. 
 To the inquiry, how far utility is the proper end of 
 human conduct, he would add the inquiry, how far 
 the theory has been practically adopted by mankind at 
 large. Though Bacon first laid down the broad rule 
 of unvarying induction from experiment, many experi- 
 ments were made, and many inductions derived from 
 them, before he saw the light; and so before the utilita- 
 rian theory was first formally suggested as it appears 
 to have been by Aristotle in his Nicomachcan Ethics 
 utility may frequently have been a rule of action. 
 It does not necessarily follow, that because a prac- 
 tice is universal, because it is adopted " by saint, by 
 savage, and by sage," it is therefore not the dictate 
 of utility, provided it be admitted that utility was an 
 influencing motive with men before the days of Hume. 
 The followers of established customs may often be 
 blind ; but if we limit back a practice to its first insti- 
 tution, we may find that the leaders were quick- 
 sighted, and kept utility in view, so far as the state of 
 things they had to deal with permitted. A minute 
 
 reference, which appear to have depended on the authority of that 
 hook, that 1 1 nine was a competitor with Balfour for the chair. This 
 statement has probably arisen out of some misapprehension as to 
 his previous competition for the chair.
 
 .Kr. in. 
 
 THEORY OF M(iR\L 
 
 oil 
 
 inquiry into national prejudices and customs frequently 
 surprises the speculative philosopher, l>y developing 
 these practices and opinions of the vulvar and illiterate, 
 ;is th" fruit of great knowledge and forethought. 
 Exhibiting, in their full extravagance, the contrasts 
 between different codes of morality, was one of Hume's 
 literary recreations: and it might have been worth 
 his whih; to have inquired, had it occurred to him, 
 how much of his own favourite utilitarian principle 
 is common to all. or at least to many, of the systems 
 he has thus contrasted with each other. 
 
 It was a consequence, perhaps, of the limited ex- 
 tent to which he had carried the utilitarian theory, 
 that Hume was charged with having left no distinct 
 line between talent and virtue. IJy making it seem 
 as if In; held that each man was virtuous according 
 as he 1 did good to mankind at large, and vicious in as 
 far as he failed in accomplishing this end, he made 
 way for the argument, that no man can rise high in 
 virtue, unless In.' also rise high in intellectual gifts: 
 since, without possessing the latter, he is not capable of 
 deciding what action.- are. and what are not. conducive 
 to the good of the human race. Many sentiments 
 expressed in the Inquiry appeared to justify this 
 charge. 1 There was thus no merit assigned to what 
 is called good intention : and no ground for extending 
 the just approbation of mankind to those who have 
 never attempted to frame a code of morality to them- 
 selves, but who. following the track of e.-tubli>hed 
 opinions, or the rules laid down by >ome of the many 
 leaders of the human race, believe that, bv a steadfast 
 
 : Siv tin- il:i\vniiiL.' "I thi- vii'\v in In- f. Tr.'-j ! .< ! 'in-< > with 
 llntcli.-..,,. .oif.f.i. ]>. 111'. A;i -iv. rntitl. -1 < >f - :: .. V, i !. : ,1 
 hi-puttv-," !>uUMi.'il in th' 1 l:it.T t<ilitinn> of the work now 
 tuiili.T riiiisiiloratii.ui, contain- -ome <-ti r 1 u - rliiriilati"ii- of it.
 
 348 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 and disinterested pursuit of their adopted course, they 
 are doing that which is right in the eye of God and 
 man. It is certain, however, that in this way many 
 a man may be pursuing a line of conduct conducive 
 to the good of his fellow-creatures, without knowing 
 that his actions have that ultimate end. While he 
 follows the rules that have been laid down for him, his 
 code of morality may be as far superior to that of 
 his clever and aspiring neighbour, who has fabricated 
 a system for himself, as the intelligence of the leader, 
 followed by the one, is greater than the self-sufficient 
 wisdom of the other. Hence multitudes in the 
 humblest classes of society, in any well regulated 
 community of modern Europe, will be found, almost 
 blindly, following a code of morality as much above 
 what the genius either of Socrates or Cicero could 
 devise, as the order of the universe is superior to the 
 greatest efforts of man's artificial skill. 
 
 o 
 
 ' ; Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door, 
 Pillow and bobbins all her little store ; 
 Content though mean, and cheerful if not gay, 
 Shuffling her threads about the livelong day, 
 Just earns a scanty pittance ; and at night 
 Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light. 
 She, for her humble sphere by nature fit, 
 Has little understanding, and no wit; 
 Receives no praise but, though her lot be such, 
 Toilsome and indigent, she renders much; 
 lust knows, and knows no more, her Bible true 
 A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew; 
 And in that charter reads, with sparkling eyes, 
 .1 lor title to a treasure in the skies. 
 
 ( )h, happy peasant ! oh, unhappy bard ! 
 His the mere tinsel, hers the rich reward; 
 He, praised, perhaps, for ages yet to come , 
 She never heard of half a mile from home; 
 lie, lost in errors his vain heart prefers, 
 S//c, safe in the simplicity of hers."
 
 .Hi. 4" 
 
 THEORY OF MORALS. 
 
 310 
 
 It was, perhaps, from a liko want of inquiry into 
 tlie full extent of the system, that his theory of 
 utility encountered the charge of being a mere system 
 of ** expediency." which estimated actions according 
 as they accomplished what appeared at the moment 
 to be good or evil, without any regard to their ultimate 
 consequences, lie certainly left for llenthain tin. 1 task 
 of making a material addition to the utilitarian theory, 
 by applying it to the secondary effects of actions. 
 Thus, according to Bentham's view, when a successful 
 highway robbery is committed, the direct evil done to 
 the victim is but a part of the mischief accomplished. 
 The secondary effects have an operation, if not so 
 deep, yet very widely spread, in creating terror, 
 anxiety, and distrust on the part of honest people, 
 and emboldening the wicked to the perpetration of 
 crimes. < >n the same principle a good measure must 
 not be carried through the legislature by corrupt 
 means ; because the example so set, will, in the end. 
 though not perhaps till the generation benefited by 
 the measure has passed away, produce more bad 
 measures than good, by lowering the tone of political 
 morality. Had Hume kept in view these secondary 
 eifects, he never would have vindicated suicide, thought 
 sudden death an occurrence rather fortunate than 
 otherwise, or used expressions from which an 
 opponent could with any plausibility infer, that, under 
 anv circumstances, lie held strict female chastity in 
 light esteem. I >ut he was always careless about 
 the offensive application of his principles : forgetting 
 that if there be any thing in a set of opinions calcu- 
 lated decplv and permanently to outrage the feelings 
 of mankind, the probability at \<;\-t is. that they have 
 something about them unsound, that the mass of tin- 
 public are right, and the solitary philosopher wrong.
 
 350 TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 Hume's account, in his " own life," of this period of 
 his literary history, is contained in the following para- 
 graph, in which, as in some other instances, it will be 
 seen that his memory has not accurately retained 
 the chronological sequence of his works. 
 
 " In 1752, were published at Edinburgh, where I 
 then lived, my 'Political Discourses,' the only work of 
 mine that was successful on the first publication. It 
 was well received abroad and at home. In the same 
 year was published at London, my ' Inquiry concern- 
 ing the Principles of Morals ;' which, in my own 
 opinion, (who ought not to judge on that subject,) is 
 of all my writings, historical, philosophical, or literary, 
 incomparably the best. It came unnoticed and un- 
 observed into the world." 
 
 Before noticing the " Political Discourses," it is ne- 
 cessary to state, that during this winter of 1751, we find 
 Hume again attempting to obtain an academic chair, 
 and again disappointed. Adam Smith, having been 
 Professor of Logic in the university of Glasgow, suc- 
 ceeded to the chair of Moral Philosophy in November 
 1751, on the death of Professor Craigie, its former 
 occupant. That Hume used considerable exertions 
 to be appointed Smith's successor, is attested by some 
 incidental passages in his correspondence, and parti- 
 cularly by the following letter to Dr. Cullen. 
 
 " Edinburgh, 21st January, 1752. 
 
 " Sir, The part which you have acted in the late 
 project for my election into your college, gave me so 
 much pleasure, that I would do myself the greatest 
 violence did I not take every opportunity of express- 
 ing my most lively sense of it. We have failed, and 
 arc thereby deprived of great opportunities of culti- 
 vating that friendship, which had so happily coin-
 
 -Kr.4M.41. CHAIR OF LOGIC IN GLASGOW. ;}.-, | 
 
 inenced by your zeal for my interests. But I hope 
 other opportunities will oiler ; and 1 assure you, that 
 nothing will give me greater pleasure than an inti- 
 macy with a person of your merit. You must even 
 allow me to count upon the same privilege of friend- 
 ship, as it' 1 had enjoyed the happiness of a longer 
 correspondence and familiarity with you : for as it is a 
 common observation, that the conferring favours on 
 another is the surest method of attaching us to him, 
 1 must, by this rule, consider you as a person to whom 
 in)- interestscan never be altogether indifferent. W hat- 
 ever the reverend gentlemen may say of my religion, 
 I hope I have as much morality as to retain a grate- 
 ful sentiment of your favours, and as much sense as 
 to know whose friendship will give greatest honour 
 and advantage to me. 1 am," iS:c. 
 
 The distinguished scientific man. in the course of 
 whose researches this curious literary incident was 
 divulged, informs us that Burke was also a candidate 
 for this chair, 1 and that the successful competitor was 
 a Mr. (low. Concerning this fortunate person literary 
 hi-tory is silent : but he has acquired a curious title 
 to tame, from the greatness of the man to whom he 
 succeeded, and of those over whom he was trium- 
 phant. 
 
 It is not, perhaps, to be regretted, that Hume failed 
 in both his attempts to obtain a professors chair. 
 
 '' Tin in e. in I. iff t.|" ( 'u! lni, ?2-7a w lie ri the al">\ > lft t< r i- lir-! 
 | .1 in t < 1 . Or. ' i " 1 1- ! 1 1 - >i i t.'ll- inf. tli:it tin- f\ i.li'ii.-i' t,t' I r i ik 1 1 :i \ - 
 ii'LT 1' Hi :i <-:t 1 1 1 i< l:i t i- Iiifi'flv tra.liti. >;ial. I'M' tli i! it "a- - t l T i _r 1 1 
 tt. -ati-iY hi- t.u n miii'l. In tli. ( >ntliiif- <( I'hil - . i ! i : - -:i I IMm- 
 rati'Mi." 1'V I'r.'t. > r -I a r 1 i ! ; . , lm aftf marl- ( 1 1 1 < I tlif sun.' fhair. 
 th.Tf i.- this ]i;esi_'f. , \>. _' I : : " 1'urkc. w li. -.- l-. niu- If 1 him akv r- 
 wanl- t^ -hiie in ;i n:-iv cxaltf.l -j .ln-i*f. w a- 1 1 1- n _rl 1 1 <>f Lv - <m. ,,(' 
 tin 1 flfft.'i'- a- a ]U'"i"'i' ['.-r-fii t.. till it. II.' i i . I imt. h..\Vf\ cr, 
 .iftnallv c >uie fnrwanl a- a ctni'h'latf."
 
 352 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. J 752. 
 
 He was not of the stuff that satisfactory teachers 
 of youth are made of. Although he was beyond 
 all doubt an able man of business, in matters suffi- 
 ciently important to command his earnest attention, 
 yet it is pretty clear that he had acquired the outward 
 manner of an absent, good-natured man, unconscious 
 of much that was going on around him ; and that he 
 w T ould have thus afforded a butt to the mischief and 
 raillery of his pupils, from which all the lustre of 
 his philosophical reputation would not have pro- 
 tected him. 
 
 Discoverers do not make, in ordinary circumstances, 
 the best instructors of youth, because their minds 
 are often too full of the fermentation of their own 
 original ideas and partly developed systems, to possess 
 the coolness and clearness necessary for conveying a 
 distinct view of the laws and elements of an established 
 system. But if this may be an incidental inconvenience 
 in one whose discoveries are but extensions of admitted 
 doctrines, the revolutionist who is endeavouring to pull 
 to pieces what has been taught for ages within the same 
 walls, and to erect a new system in its stead, can 
 scarcely ever be a satisfactory instructor of any con- 
 siderable number of young men. The teacher of the 
 moral department of science especially must be, to a 
 certain extent, a conformist ; if he be not, what is 
 taught in the class-room will be forgotten or con- 
 tradicted in the closet. The teachers of youth are 
 themselves not less irascible and sometimes not less 
 prejudiced than other mortals. They have their 
 hatreds and partisanships, often productive of acri- 
 monious controversy; but when there is something like 
 a unity of opinion in the systems of those who teach 
 the same, or like subjects, these superficial discussions 
 produce no evil fruit. Hume would have been at
 
 .-Kr. I 
 
 CHAIR <>K LOCK IN CLASdW 
 
 peace with all who would have let his unobtrusive 
 spirit alone; but lie would probably have quietly 
 proceeded to inculcate doctrines to which most of his 
 fellow-labourers were strongly averse: and that, per- 
 haps, without knowing or feeling that he was in any way 
 departing from the simple routine of duties which the 
 public expected of him. And thus he would probably 
 have created in the midst of the rising youth of the 
 lay. an isolated circle of disciples, taught to despise 
 the acquirements and opinions of their contemporaries. 
 as these contemporaries held theirs in abhorrence. 1 
 
 1 Dr. Thomson say-, " It might tiilonl curious matter of -pecula- 
 tion tu conjecture what ell'oct the appointment of Mr. Hume, or of 
 Mr. Hnrke, to tlie chair of logic in (Jla-irow, would have had upon 
 the character of that universitv, or ujion the mctaphv-ical. moral, 
 and political impiirie- of the aire in which thev lived ; and what 
 I'oii-dpiciior won' likolv to have resulted from the inllueuce which 
 the peeiiliar --eniu- and talent- of either of the-e <rreat men, had 
 they he, mi exerted in that .-phere, mu-t nece.-surilv have had in 
 forinin _' the mind- "f -indi of their pupil- a- were to he afterward* 
 employed in the pur-nit* of -cienco, or the conduct and regulation 
 of human atl'air-. It seem.- ditlicult to conceive how. a- in-tructor- 
 o|' youth, they < -.1,1.1 either of them, without a Coll.-idenihle uiodilica- 
 piniou-. ha\e taught philo-c.phv upon the -.-optical or 
 t!;e |1 ii -y-tenis which thev had re'-pectivelv adopted ; while 
 
 'i:e> purity of their moral characters, and the uivat reverence 
 which they hot h entertained for established institution-. -i\e the 
 lull.- ' a nrauce, that, had either of them heen appointed to the 
 chair o| !..-!<. their academical duties would have heen executed 
 with an uucea-im. r regard to the improvement of their pupil-, and 
 to the reputation .if the society into which thev had I . en admin, d." 
 Life of ( 'nil, ii. p. ;:;. 
 
 Smith, in a letter to Dr. Culh n, says. " 1 -In. uld prefer Da\ id 
 Hume t.. any man for a . lle;o_ r Uf ; I. ut I am afraid the puhlic 
 !d i lot he . I' my opinion ; and the inter.- 1 . f the -. .-iet v will 
 ohli_e u- to have oinr regard to the opinion of the puhlic. It' the 
 event, how e v.!'. \m ' are afraid of .-hould happen, w e can . e l;..w the 
 puhlic receive- it. I'r..m the particular know led-e I have of Mr. 
 Klliot's sentiment-. I am pretty certain Mr. Lind.-av mu-t have 
 [ posed it to him. i>. t he to Mr. Lindsay." lb. p. o'Oo". 
 
 VOL. I. _ A
 
 254 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 This was an important epoch in Hume's literary 
 history; in 1751, he produced the work which he 
 himself considered the most meritorious of all his 
 efforts; in 1752, he published that which obtained 
 the largest amount of contemporary popularity, the 
 " Political Discourses." * After a series of literary 
 disappointments, borne with the spirit of one who 
 felt within him the real powers of an original thinker 
 and an agreeable writer, and the assurance that the 
 world would some day acknowledge the sterling great- 
 ness of his qualifications, he now at last presented them 
 in a form, in which they received the ready homage of 
 the public. These Discourses are in truth the cradle of 
 political economy ; and, much as that science has been 
 investigated and expounded in later times, these earliest, 
 shortest, and simplest developments of its principles are 
 still read with delight even by those who are masters 
 of all the literature of this great subject. 2 But they 
 
 1 Edinburgh, 1?52, 8vo. Printed for Kincaid and Donaldson. 
 It is in the Gentleman 's Magazine list of books for February. 
 
 2 Lord Brougham says, " Of the ' Political Discourses' it would 
 be difficult to speak in terms of too great commendation. They 
 combine almost every excellence which can belong to such a per- 
 formance. The reasoning is clear, and unencumbered with more 
 words or more illustrations than are necessary for bringing out the 
 doctrine. The learning is extensive, accurate, and profound, not- 
 only as to systems of philosophy, but as to history, whether modern 
 or ancient. The subjects are most happily chosen ; the language 
 is elegant, precise, and vigorous; and so admirably are the topics 
 selected, that there is as little of dryness in these fine essays as if 
 the subject were not scientific; and we rise from their perusal 
 scarce able to believe that it is a work of philosophy we have been 
 reading, having all the while thought it a book of curiosity and 
 entertainment. The great merit, however, of these Discourses, is 
 their originality, and the new system of politics and political 
 economy which they unfold. Mr. Hume is, beyond all doubt, the 
 author of the modern doctrines which now rule the world of science, 
 which are to a great extent the guide of practical statesmen, and
 
 .Ei. 41, 
 
 mi.rnru. DISCOURSES. 
 
 possess a quality which more elaborate economists 
 have striven after in vain, in being a pleasing object 
 of study not only to the initiated but to the ordinary 
 popular reader, and of being admitted as just and true 
 by many who cannot or who will not understand the 
 views of later writers on political economy. 1 They 
 have thus the rarely conjoined merit, that, as they 
 were the first to direct the way to the true sources of 
 this department of knowledge, those who have gone 
 farther, instead of superseding them, have in the gene- 
 ral case confirmed their accuracy. 
 
 Political economy is a science of which the advanced 
 extremities are the subject of debate and doubt, while 
 the older doctrines are admitted by all as firm and 
 established truths. It maybe slippery ground, but it 
 is not a tread-mill, and no step taken has ever to be 
 entirely retraced. It is owing to this characteristic 
 of the science that those who oppose the doctrines of 
 modern economists do not think of denying those 
 of David Hume: and thus, while in these essays the 
 economist finds some of the most important doctrines 
 of his peculiar subject set forth with a clearness and 
 elegance with which he dare not attempt to compete, 
 the ordinary reader, who has a distaste of new 
 doctrines and innovating theories, awards them the 
 respect ^we to old established opinion. 
 
 That they should have been, with all their innova- 
 tion on received opinions, and their startling novelty. 
 
 ;uv oiilv J > 1 \ . : 1 1 > ' I iVni n heim,' applied in their fulle.-t extent tn the 
 ali'air- nf 1 1 : 1 1 i > > t i .- . lv the cla.-hin:_r interc-t- ami the i_ r iii>rant pre- 
 j ml ire- i if certain pnw erfnl cla --.-." Live- nf Men nf \.< it. r-. |>. l'u 1. 
 1 i ', rhaji- a pnrtinn "f the | ilea.- u re with u Inch t ]., -e , av- are 
 read I v tho-e wlm are Tint partial {> the -t mly ! pi lit ical ecnnuiiiy, 
 mav be attrihuteil tn their having been written before that -cienee 
 \va> in pi..-.-c>.-inn <>f a nmiienclatiire, ami thn- ap] earin_- clothed in 
 the ordinary lan_na_:e ( .f literal ire.
 
 356 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 so popular in their own age, is also a matter which 
 has its peculiar explanation. The dread of innova- 
 tion, simply as change, and without reference to the 
 interests it may affect, sprung up in later times, a 
 child of the French revolution. Before that event 
 some men were republican or constitutional in their 
 views, and declared war against all changes which 
 tended to throw power into the hands of the monarch. 
 Others were monarchical, and opposed to the extension 
 of popular rights. But if an alteration were suggested 
 which did not affect these fundamental principles 
 and opinions, it was welcomed with liberal courtesy, 
 examined, and adopted or rejected on its own merits. 
 Hence both Hume and Smith, writing in bold denun- 
 ciation of all the old cherished prejudices in matters 
 of commerce, instead of being met with a storm of 
 reproach, as any one who should publish so many 
 original views in the present day would be, at once 
 received a fair hearing and a just appreciation. 1 
 
 1 It was in the most aristocratic quarters that these innovating 
 doctrines were hest received ; for in them was the greatest amount 
 of education, and its influence was not at that time paralyzed by 
 general prejudices against innovation. They were more in favour 
 with the Tories than with the Whigs. Indeed, Archdeacon Tucker, 
 one of the boldest speculators on the economy of trade, was in state 
 politics one of the most uncompromising Tories of his age. Fox, on 
 the other hand, said of the "Wealth of Nations," that " there was 
 something in all these subjects which passed his comprehension, 
 something so wide that he could never embrace them himself, or 
 find any one who did,'' But in the French treaty, and in other 
 measures regarding trade, Pitt was in the fair way of putting them 
 into legislative practice, when, being arrested by the French 
 revolution, ho entertained thenceforward a bitter enmity of innova- 
 tion; an enmity to which, in the department of political economy, 
 his party became the heirs, preserving the succession down nearly 
 to the present day, when, at least by their leader, old prejudices 
 have been already in a great measure, and are likely soon to ho 
 altogether repudiated.
 
 .Ivr. II 
 
 I'ul.I'l K AI. !:< uNoNH 
 
 , > i / 
 
 Thus there was a period during which innovations, 
 however hold or extensive, received a favourable hear- 
 ing, and in which the literature both of Filmland and 
 of France was daily ^ivine; publicity to new theories 
 embodying sweeping alterations of social .systems. In 
 this work the two countries presented their national 
 characteristics. The Kurdish writers kept always in 
 view the (fucstion how far there would le a vital 
 principle remaining in society after the diseased part 
 was removed : liow far there was reason to suppose 
 that the small quantity of e/ood done to the public by 
 any irrational system, which at the same time 'lid 
 much evil, niiufht be accomplished after its abolition. 
 The French were indiscriminate in their war against 
 old received opinions, and ottered nothing to lill their 
 place when they were -'one: and hence in some measure 
 followed results which have made change and innova- 
 tion words of dread throughout a ^reat part of society. 
 
 Of the inquiries through which Hume brought 
 together the materials for these essays, the reader 
 will have found a specimen in tic.- notes, or <t<lr, r^nrin 
 quoted above. 1 A comparison of these fragments of 
 the raw material, with tin.' finished result, develops 
 this marked feature in Hume's method of working, 
 that in the way to a short proposition, he has often 
 read and thought at u'reat length. The simplicity and 
 unity of his writings were of more importance to him 
 than the appearance of elaboration : and where others 
 would be scattering multitudinous statements and 
 authorities, lie i- content with the simple embodi- 
 ment of results, conscious that inquiry will confirm in 
 the reader's mind the justness of what he lays down 
 In some respects we can watch the progress of
 
 358 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 Hume's mind in connexion with these subjects; for in 
 his allusions to commercial matters in his earlier 
 works, he uses the common phraseology, such as 
 " balance of trade," in a manner indicating an 
 adherence to those ordinary fallacies of the day, 
 which, when he came to examine them in his essays 
 on "commerce," "money," "interest," "the balance 
 of trade," " taxes," and " public credit," he extensively 
 repudiated. His examination of the nature and value 
 of money as a medium of exchange, is probably the 
 best and simplest that, even down to this day, can be 
 found. His theory, so far as it goes, has hardly ever 
 been questioned ; and indeed at present it may be 
 said, that beyond it we know little with certainty, 
 and that its author had at once discovered the 
 limits at which full and satisfactory knowledge was, 
 for nearly a century, to rest. 1 He shows that 
 
 ! It is not intended to be maintained that Hume's Political 
 Economy is immaculate, but merely that in the majority of instances 
 he has fixed certain truths which later inquiries have not shaken. 
 The following passage, along with much that is received as true 
 doctrine, contains some observations, such as those on the tax on 
 German linen, and on brandy, which modern economists would 
 pronounce to be heterodox. The question of a gold or a paper 
 currency was one which Hume did not profess to decide. He de- 
 scribed with considerable impartiality the advantages and the dis- 
 advantages of both mediums of exchange. 
 
 " From these principles we may learn what judgment we 
 ought to form of those numberless bars, obstructions, and imposts, 
 which all nations of Europe, and none more than England, have 
 put upon trade, from an exorbitant desire of amassing money, 
 which never will heap up beyond its level, while it circulates; or 
 from an ill-grounded apprehension of losing their specie, which 
 never will sink below it. Could any thing scatter our riches, it 
 would be such impolitic contrivances. But this general ill effect, 
 however, results from them, that they deprive neighbouring 
 nations of that free communication and exchanee which the
 
 .Tit. II 
 
 I'oI.lTKAI. KCO.N'O.MY 
 
 3." 9 
 
 money i.s not in itself property or value; that it i.s 
 a mere representative, which, it" cheap or dear in 
 
 Author of tin' world ha- in t*ij l i. hv _ivin_r them -oil-*. <! iin;i ' -, 
 and i_'eiiiu-es. -o different from each other. 
 
 "Our mod. th politic- embrace the onlv nit t li 1 of hani-hiu:; 
 money, the u-'iiil' of j.:ij.i-v e:c .lit ; 1 1 \- reject the onlv method of 
 aina--:nir it. the |iractice of lc ardimr; and thev adopt a hundred 
 contrivance-, which -erve to im purpose luit to chock indu-trv, and 
 roh our.-el\e- and < 1 1 : neighbour- of the common benefit- of art and 
 nut urc. 
 
 "All taxes, however, upon foreiuTii commodities, are not to he 
 regarded a- prejudicial or u.-ele.--, hut tho.-e onlv which are 
 founded on the jealoii.-v ahovc mentioned. ,\ tax on (ierman 
 linen encourage- homo manufactures, and therehv multiplies our 
 people and indu-trv. A tax on hrandv increases the -ale ol rum, 
 and supports our southern colonies. And a- it is nece-sary that 
 imp"-!- should he levied for the -upport of _-o\ onnm-nt. it may he 
 thought more convenient to lav them < i i I'mm_-h commodities, 
 which can ea-ilv he intercepted at the p.. rt, and -uhjeoted to the 
 impo.-t. We oiiirht, however, nlwav- lo reuiemher the niaxini ot 
 Dr. Swift, that, in the arithmetic of the cu-l"in-". two and two 
 make not four, I > ; 1 1 often make onlv one, 1; can scarcely he 
 
 dollhted, hilt if ill.' dlltle- oil \\ilie Wefe lowered to a third. tll-'V 
 
 would vi'dd much more to the ^,,\ eminent than at pre-ent : our 
 people iui_lit therehv alio rd to drink coiiinioiilv a lieiter and more 
 
 u In i me I i j 1 1 . r ; and no prejudice woiihl en-ue to the ha lance ol 
 
 trade, of which we are -o jealoii-. The manufacture of ale hevoiid 
 the agriculture i- hut ilioipli-ideruble. and L.'i\e- einplovilieiit to few 
 hand-. I he t ran -poll o| ine and corn would not he much interior." 
 
 'I he follow im_ r account ot a hank in L r p raft ice -till in hvelv opera- 
 tion in Scotland, afford- a specimen of 1 1 time's capacity to grapple 
 with practical detail-. 
 
 I here w a- an in\ i-nt ion w hudi w a- fallen upon -ouie Vear- ai'o 
 hv the hank- of Ivliiihure-h. and which, a- it wa- one of the nio-t 
 iiiironii u- idea that ha- I>'-ti executed in conmicrce. ha- al o ' 
 tiioiijli! ad\au;i_e. a- to >c.,tland. It i- these called a Kank- 
 Credit. and i- of thi- nature :^ A man Lfee- to tin hai . . . . I lit 
 
 SUl'et V to the ali.o'n.t. we hall -UJ>]" e. if a t le I . . ! I 'Ullil-. 
 
 This motiev. or anv part of it. he ha- the libit; v > f draw in_' out 
 w hein^ er lie pi ! he | iv- onlv the i-rdinarv inton t f..i 
 
 while it i- in hi- hand-. lie mav. when he pha-e-. rcpav anv 
 sum -o small a- tweiitv i" t.* ' -. and the in'.ere-t i- di-coiiiited fn m
 
 360 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752, 
 
 its material, is just, in the same ratio, a cheap or 
 a dear method of accomplishing a purpose. That 
 if a community could conduct its transactions with a 
 small quantity of money as well as with a large, it 
 would, so far from being poorer, be the richer by so 
 much as the superabundant money had cost. He exa- 
 mines those simple laws which, when there is no dis- 
 turbing influence, have a tendency to equalize the dis- 
 tribution of the precious metals, through the cheap- 
 ness of labour and commodities where the)* are scarce, 
 the nominal enhancement where they are abundant, 
 He notices with great clearness and precision the 
 respective effects upon the community of a state of 
 increase, and of a state of diminution of the available 
 currency of a country. But he enters on few of 
 those intricate monetary questions which are now so 
 frequently the subject of discussion. Of inquiries 
 into the causes which affect the quantity of money in 
 a country, the moving influences from which arise 
 
 the very day of the repayment. The advantages resulting from 
 this contrivance arc manifold. As a man may find surety nearly 
 to the amount of his substance, and his bank-credit is equivalent to 
 ready money, a merchant docs hereby in a manner coin his houses, 
 his household furniture, the goods in his warehouse, the foreign 
 debts due to him, his ships at sea ; and can, upon occasion, employ 
 them in all payments, as if they were the current money of the 
 country. If a man borrow a thousand pounds from a private hand, 
 besides that it is not always to be found when required, he pays 
 interest for it whether he be using it or not : his bank-credit costs 
 him nothing except during the very moment in which it is of 
 service to him : and this circumstance is of equal advantage as if 
 he had borrowed money at much lower interest. Merchants like- 
 wise, from this invention, acquire a great facility in supporting 
 each other's credit, which is a considerable security against bank- 
 ruptcies. A man, when his own bank-credit is exhausted, goes to 
 any of his neighbours who is not in the same condition, and he 
 u;ots the money, which he replaces at his convenience."
 
 ;El. 1 
 
 I'mLITICAL kconomv. 
 
 oCI 
 
 gluts, drains, stagnations, and all the mysteries of 
 finance, he shows ns that he frit diffident ; and on 
 these matters, how little is the quantity of full satis- 
 factory undisputed knowledge which we yet possess ' 
 
 Indeed, one of the great merits of Hume's Kssays 
 on Political Kconomv is, that he knows when he is 
 getting out of his depth, and does not conceal his 
 position. With many writers on this suhject, tin; 
 point where clear and satisfactory inquiry ends, is 
 that where dogmatism begins; hut Hume stops at 
 that point, sees and admits the difficulty, and acknow- 
 ledges that he can go no farther with safety. 
 
 Among these essays there is one' which, like the 
 Oceana of Harrison, though on a smaller scale, is an 
 attempt to construct a system of polity. It is called 
 Idea of a Perfect Commonwealth."" The system so 
 put together is liable to practical objections at. every 
 step, and is utterly destitute of that sagacious appli- 
 cability to the transactions of real business, for 
 which the ei forts in hypothetical legislation by 
 IJenthain are distinguished. 1 
 
 ! lii'li'i-'l. in :i!l !v-]iit; -. Ilnnie'.- [inliticiil ecmimnv i- rather ana 
 lytieal el' tin; ('fleet nf c\i-tin_r in-titiitintis ami e.-tabli-hnieiits, than 
 ,Mi_'_,-ti\ . 1. 1' auv view- mi the jirae! icahilit v "1" anv L'reat :nnrli< >r:i- 
 timi <if inaiikiinl lv punitive reirulatimis Imiinleil mi principle- "!' 
 political et-Diimnv. Ailani Smith pur-meil the -amo nicthoil. The 
 iiil. 1 iii nl' that ~ehu.il was 1 1 1 , 1 < < 1 rather tn hreak down than tn 
 l.u iM up tn lit pi i iut ami eradicate the ni'iM-hief that d:i<I heeii dnne 
 liv mnpirie le_'i-latiiin ; iml tn attempt new arranevinent-. While 
 .-.i hi ueli mi-ehieviiii~ matter remained tn In 1 _'"t ri.l of, the li I < 1 
 \\;i . nut cleai" lnr auv attempt- tn trv tin' fifed ^\ plan- "f -ncial 
 iirLrani/atinii. 1 1 N perhap- mil v lmw w hen the duct rim-- n| the pnh- 
 
 tii'al eeniinmi : . alter ha\ in_ r -t 1 mil a_:'ain-t ne'leet ami h"-tility, 
 
 liave hi'i'ii nearlv limu-lit intn practice l>v the -!iive--ive almlitimi 
 , , t' tin- ri'_';lat ii'i i niu-1 nhjeft I> >ii;ill*- in their eve-, that ivmn ha- 
 been maile I'nr the -ii^jv-t imi n!" plan- >i' internal sneial mvanizat imi, 
 fmuiileil mi impiine- Imih extensive and minute. In the present pnsi 
 ti'Mi nfmea-uiv- for the phv -ieal ami ninral purification, ainl the social
 
 362 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUIV1E. 1752. 
 
 Another essay of a different character is conspi- 
 cuous for the vast extent of the learning and research 
 
 organization of this densely peopled empire, in the approach to an 
 adjustment of the poor law, the reform of the criminal code, the 
 prison discipline, and the sanatory suggestions ; and still more, in 
 these not being the mere dreams of Utopian theorists, hut receiving 
 the countenance and support of practical statesmen, we appear to 
 have witnessed the dawn of a new era in political economy. 
 
 Hume seems so far from having himself contemplated the appli- 
 cation of philosophical skill to the organization of large masses of 
 human beings, that we frequently find in his writings and in his 
 letters, remarks on the growth of cities, sometimes speaking of 
 certain limits which they cannot pass, at other times noticing, in a 
 tone of despondency, the rapid progress of London, as if it were 
 exceeding those bounds within which mankind can be kept under 
 the dominion of law and order. In the essay on the Populousness of 
 Ancient Nations, he says, " London, by uniting extensive commerce 
 and middling empire, has perhaps arrived at a greatness, which no 
 city will perhaps be able to exceed ;" and he fixes this number at 
 700,000 inhabitants, saying farther, "from the experience of 
 past and present ages, one might conjecture that there is a kind of 
 impossibility that any city could ever rise much beyond this pro- 
 portion." London must then have been considerably under the 
 population he thus assigns to it, and it had not probably reached 
 that number of inhabitants twenty-four years later, when we find 
 him, oppressed by the disease of which he died, saying in a letter 
 to Smith, " should London fall as much in its size as I have done, it 
 will be the better. It is nothing but a hulk of bad and unclean 
 humours." 
 
 During Hume's lifetime, the metropolis had been frequently 
 outraged and intimidated on some occasions almost desolated, by 
 mobs of city savages ; beings far more formidable and brutal than 
 the savages of the wilderness. At the time when he published his 
 Political Discourses, it contained bands of robbers, who followed 
 their trade as openly as the brigands of the Abruzzi, committing 
 robberies and murders in the middle of the city, in open day. 
 Those who saw the city increasing in size, while it retained these 
 evil characteristics, naturally looked upon it as a cancer, near the 
 most vital part of the empire, and lamented accordingly its waxing 
 prosperity and bulk. But its size was not the cause of the evil. It 
 is now three times as populous as when Hume wrote, yet, with
 
 jEt. 41. POLITICAL DISCOURSES. 303 
 
 which must have been expended in bringing together 
 its crowd of apt illustrations. that on "The Popu- 
 lousness of Ancient Nations. " To atfurd a choice of .so 
 many applicable facts, directly bearing on the point, 
 how wide must have been the research, how extensive 
 the rejection of such fruit of that research, as did not 
 answer his purpose ! In the perusal of this essay one 
 is inclined to regret that Hume afterwards made a 
 portion of modern Europe the object of his historical 
 labours, instead of taking up some department of the 
 history of classical antiquity. The full blown lustre of 
 Greek and Roman greatness had far more of his sym- 
 pathy than the history of his own countrymen, and their 
 slow progress from barbarism to civilisation. The 
 materials were nearly all confined to the great spirits of 
 antiquity, with whom he delighted to hold converse, 
 instead of involving that heap of documentary matter 
 with which the historian of Britain must grapple; 
 acts of parliament, journals, writs, legal documents. 
 Sec. all things which his soul abhorred. In such a 
 field lie might have escaped the imputation of not being 
 a full and fair investigator; and he would, at all 
 events, have avoided the reproach thrown on him bv 
 the prying antiquary, who. by the light of newly dis- 
 covered documents, could charge him with having 
 
 much poverty, much vice, and much ignorance, it is not the .-ami 1 
 <li.-ea.-e<l and dangerous mass it then was. The- comparative sol. or 
 (|iiietne>.- of the -tivets, the well ordered police, - the facilities 
 for (li-co\ eriiiLf persons who are sought after, \\ it 1 1 1 1 1 tln-ir li<-in_ r 
 
 suhjeeted in their movements to any control, inc<>mi-tent with 
 I'lfiti-h lihertv, are all, when practised on .-.. la ]_' a -cale. indica- 
 tion- that human ifniu- has p*eat capacities for or^ani/at inn ; and 
 they mav he, for au_dit that can he m'ch to the coiitrarv, onlv the 
 initial movements, which future generations will carry to far more 
 wonderful results.
 
 364 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 neglected that of which he did not, and could not, 
 know the existence. 1 
 
 1 Dr. Hubert Wallace, a distinguished clergyman of the Church 
 of Scotland, had prepared for the Philosophical Society, of which he 
 was a member, an essay, which he enlarged and published in 1752, 
 with the title, " Dissertations on the Numbers of Mankind in 
 Ancient and Modern Times ;" adding a supplement, in which he 
 examined Hume's discourse on the Populousness of Ancient Nations. 
 Malthus admitted that Dr. Wallace was the first to point distinctly 
 to the rule, that to find the limits of the populousness of any given 
 community, wc must look at the quantity of food at its disposal. 
 But he was not successful in the controversial application of his 
 principle. Hume's method of inquiry is a double comparison. 
 The statements of numbers in ancient authors being compared with 
 the numbers in existing communities, the relative organization for 
 the supply of food in the two cases is examined, and the author 
 finds reason to believe that the statements of numbers are greatly 
 exaggerated by ancient authors, as the state of commerce and transit, 
 and the amount of stock or capital available for the concentration 
 and distribution of food, are not such as would enable such multi- 
 tudes to be supported. Dr. Wallace, laying down, that where there 
 is the most food there will be the greatest number of inhabitants, 
 maintains, that as a much greater proportion of the people were 
 employed in agriculture among the ancients than the moderns, 
 there must have been more food and consequently more human 
 beings. It is almost needless, after so much has been written on 
 this matter, to explain at length the fallacy of this reasoning. The 
 richest and most populous states arc those of which the smallest 
 proportion of the people arc employed in agriculture. A decrease 
 of the comparative number employed in procuring the necessaries 
 of life is the mark of increase in wealth and abundance of all 
 things, and is necessarily accompanied cither by a proportionally 
 improved agriculture, or the purchase of food from poorer com- 
 munities. 
 
 In the subsequent editions of the "Discourses," Hume acknow- 
 ledges the merit of Wallace's book, saying, " So learned a refutation 
 would have made the author suspect that his reasonings were 
 entirely overthrown, had he not used the precaution, from the 
 beginning, to keep himself on the sceptical side ; and, having taken 
 this advantage, of the ground, lie was enabled, though with much, 
 inferior fores, to preserve himself from a total defeat."
 
 .Tvr. 11 
 
 i'Ri'.NCI! TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 od.) 
 
 Iii a letter to Henry I Ionic in 171s, we find Hume 
 mentioning an essay on the Protectant Suceession, as 
 one which he was to include in the edition of his 
 * Assays Moral and Political." then preparing for the 
 press. 1 lie speaks of people having endeavoured to 
 divert him from this publication, as one likely to be 
 injurious to him as an official man. 1'crliaps he was 
 prevailed on to adopt the view of his prudent friends, 
 for this essay is not among the " Kssays .Moral and 
 Political," but forms one of the volume of Discourses, 
 among which it is somewhat inharmoniously placed, 
 as it is the only one which bears a reference to the 
 current internal party politics of the day. 
 
 The " Political Discourses" introduced Hume to the 
 literature of the continent. The work- of ( v >uesnay, 
 Ivivbiv. Mirabcau, Kaynal. and Turgot. had not 
 vet appeared, but the public mind of Prance had 
 been opened for novel doctrines by the bold appeal 
 of \ auban. J and by the curious and original inquiries 
 of Montesquieu. The Discourses appear to have been 
 first translated by Klcazer Mauvillon. a native of Pro- 
 vence, and private secretary to Prederic Augustus, 
 King of Poland, who published his translation in I 77>!). :| 
 Another, and better known translation, by the Abbe 
 Le Plane, was published in 1751.' This Abbe had 
 
 1 See :il,.,v". p. L j a:>. 
 
 5 I'mjet (Tun Oinie Iv'oyale. lt<>, 1?U? a project for : i ! > . 1 1 - ! 1 1 1 1 u 
 the feudal iinpo.-t- ;i:id exemptions, lithe-, mid internal tran.-il 
 da til'-, and levvin_ r a ireueral revenue. " IVojet." -av- I lie I >icti<m- 
 iKiire 1 1 istnriciue. diirne d un lmii pat riote, 111:11-- I 1 1 1 1 ' t x > e n t i 1 1 
 <>.t tl'e.--dillieile." In llunie'- notes nf his earlv leading, we find 
 liini referrini: t<> Vaulian. see p. I'M. 
 
 3 Disi-i.urs l*i.liii.|ii.-< traduit- de 1/ An-hd-. par M. 1)' M*** 
 Amsterdam. 17'-'i. ^ni.rard /./ Fr-mr. I.',t'. r<ii r. . 
 
 1 Wit 1 1 the same title a- the ahove. It v, a- reprinted at Berlin 
 
 in 1 ?;>:>.
 
 366 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 spent some time in England, and wrote a work on 
 his experiences in Britain, called " Lettres sur les 
 Anglois." He was the author also of a tragedy called 
 Aben Said, which seems to have now lost any fame 
 it ever acquired. His translations from Hume were, 
 however, highly popular, that of the Discourses passing 
 through several editions ; and we shall find that they 
 obtained the approbation of Hume himself. The 
 Abbe, in a letter to the author, gives an account of the 
 reception of the translation, 1 the colour of which he 
 may be supposed to have enriched, as regarding a 
 matter in which he felt himself to be pars magna. 
 He prophesies that it will produce a like sensation 
 to that caused by the Esprit des Loix, and he finds 
 his prophecy fulfilled. He states, that it is not only 
 read with avidity, but that it has given rise to a mul- 
 titude of other works. There can be no doubt, indeed, 
 that as no Frenchman had previously approached the 
 subject of political economy with a philosophical pen, 
 this little book was a main instrument, either by 
 causing assent or provoking controversy, in producing 
 the host of French works on political economy, pub- 
 lished between the time of its translation, and the 
 publication of Smith's " Wealth of Nations," in 1770. 2 
 
 1 Sec the letter in the Appendix. 
 
 2 There is evidence of the lasting hold 'which the Discourses had 
 taken on the minds of the French, in the appearance of a new trans- 
 lation so late as 1?GC, with the title, "Essais sur le Commerce; le 
 Luxe; I'argent; l'interet <le l'argent ; les invpots; le credit public, 
 et la balance du commerce; par M. David Hume," published at 
 Amsterdam in 17Co', and Paris in 1767. Querard attributes this 
 translation to a Mademoiselle dc la Chaux. So far as we are en- 
 titled to judge of a translation into a foreign language, this one 
 seems to be very spirited, speaking through French idioms and 
 ideas, and ingeniously overcoming the very few conventionalisms 
 which could not have been avoided by a native of Britain, speaking 
 of British trade and finance.
 
 Mi 41. LIBRARIAN OF ADVOCATES' LIBRARY. 3G7 
 
 Thu work of the elder Mirabeau in particular 
 L'Ami des Ilommes, was in a ;reat measure a contro- 
 versial examination of Hume's opinions on population. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 1732 1753. Alt. 41 U. 
 
 A ppointment as keeper of the Advocates' Library I lis Duties - Commence? the 
 Hi-fry of Kngland - Correspondence with Adam Smith and others on the 
 Hi.-tory- (ienerosity to Macklock the I'oet Quarrel with the 1'aeulty of 
 Advocates Publication of the First Volume of the Hi-tory Its reception 
 Continues the Hi-tory Controversial and Polemical attack- -Attempt 
 toMibject him, along with Kame-, to the Discipline of Lccle-ia-tieal ('..arts 
 The Leader of the attack Home's "Douglas" The first Ldiuburgh Review. 
 
 Jii 1 7r>li," says Hume in his " own life," "the 
 faculty of Advocates chose me their librarian, an office 
 from which 1 received little or no emolument, but 
 which Li'ave me the command of a larixe library." 1 We 
 
 1 Tlio appointment i- thus recorded m tin' minute- of the Faculty 
 of Advocates. 
 
 .' ./.</ ',.,,_,,, I;;, -j. 
 
 " Tho l''aculty proceeded to tin- choice of a keeper of their Ultra ry, 
 in place nf the saiil Mr. Thomas Uuddiman ; and some inenihers 
 jifojio-.'il that a 1 1 i _tt i i f I < 1 incmLor of their own Lodv, viz. Mr. 
 Kenneth Mackenzie, Advocate, Professor of the Ci\il Law in the 
 l'iii\er-itv of I '. 1 inl .'irirli. -lmuld he named to that olliee. and others 
 inelininj' thai Mr. I >a\ i>] Hume -lioiild Le elected, it wa- agreed 
 that the matter -hotihl he put to a vote. And the roll- lie in l- called, 
 and votes di-tinetlv marked and taken down and numbered, it v a- 
 t'oiind that the ntajmitv had declared f"r the latter : upon \\ Inch, the 
 I), >an and Faculty deelare<l the said Mr. David I hime duly elected 
 keeper of their lihrarv. and appointed that the usual -alarv of forty 
 pounds -terliu_ r should he paid to hiui yearly mi that account. 
 And in regard that he was to have their minutes, acts, and record-.
 
 368 TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 have a very glowing account of the contest for this 
 appointment from his own pen in the following letter : 
 
 under his custody, they appointed him also clerk to the Faculty, 
 which office had heen lately resigned hy Mr. David Falconer, with 
 power to the said Mr. Hume to officiate therein hy a depute. 
 
 " Mr. Gilhert Elliot, senior, curator of the library, here proposed, 
 that in consideration that there would be a good deal of labour 
 and trouble in delivering over the library to Mr. Hume, and his 
 receiving the same, and doing several other things requisite and 
 necessary relating thereto, that the Faculty should name a certain 
 salary to some person as under keeper for some time till that business 
 may be accomplished. The Dean and Faculty resolved, that they 
 would name no person, nor no salary, but leave Mr. Hume, their 
 library keeper, himself the nomination and choice of his own depute, 
 as he was to be answerable and accountable to the Faculty for his 
 whole charge and intromissions ; but that, against the next anniver- 
 sary meeting, they would take under their consideration what 
 extraordinary work should be then accomplished, and do therein as 
 should be found reasonable. 
 
 "Lastly, the Dean and Faculty appointed Mr. George Brown 
 to intimate to Mr. David Hume their election of him for their 
 library keeper, and that he should be present at their next meeting 
 to have the oath deJidcU administered to him." 
 
 In this office, Hume succeeded the celebrated Thomas Ruddiman. 
 The life of this distinguished critic and philologist was written in 
 an Svo volume by George Chalmers, (J 79-1.) This book is valu- 
 able as containing some of the finest specimens of mixed bombast 
 and bathos in the English language. Chalmers was a distinguished 
 antiquary, and his high fame in that department of research was 
 well earned ; but this did not content his ambition, and like an emi- 
 nent Anglo-Saxon antiquary of the present day, he must needs 
 mount a cap and bells on his head, by aping the style of the fine 
 writers of his age. Gibbon and Johnson seem to have been honoured 
 with an equal share in the elements of his style. He can say nothing 
 without a due pomp and state; when he tells us how John Love was 
 the son of a bookseller in Dumbarton, he must put it thus: "Ho 
 Avas born in July, 1 695, at Dunbarton, the Dunbriton of the British, 
 the arx Britomtm of the Romans, the Dunclidon of Ravennas, the 
 Alcluyd of Bode, and he was the son of John Love, a bookseller, 
 who, like greater dealers in greater towns, supplied his customers 
 with such books as their taste required, and, like the hither of
 
 /Et. 40-41. LIHRAUIAX il' ADVOCATES' LIJiRARV. :u][) 
 II r m j : To I >i{. ( 'i.i;riiAM;. 
 
 " I-:-lh>t-ur,ih, F./.riirv 4///, 17-".-. 
 
 ' Dear Doctor, I have 1 n ready to burst with 
 
 vanity and self-conceit this week past : and being 
 obliged tVoin decorum to keep a strict watch over 
 myself, and check all eruptions of that kind. I really 
 begin to find my health impaired by it. and perceive 
 that there is an absolute necessity for breathing a 
 vein, and uivinu; a loose to my inclination. Von shall 
 therefore be my physician, 'hum podagricus tit pugil 
 et niedicum nrget." You must sustain the over- 
 tlowings of my pride; and I expect, too, that by a little 
 flattery you are to help nature in her discharge, and 
 draw forth a .-till greater llux of the peccant matter. 
 Tis not on my account alone you are to take part in 
 this uTeat event ; philosophy, letters, science, virtue, 
 triumph alonir with me, and have now in this one 
 singular instance, brought over even the people' from 
 the side (if bigotry and superstition. 
 
 -J hii-m,. ,-,- -imially exhihite.l hi- 1 k - :il the n.'i-lil.'.uritiLr fair-." 
 
 We iiiv tli. 'ii . >f 'Miii'-.' |.r.ivi.l.'.l with :i li-t .,1' what the-e I k- -..LI 
 
 'V l.'.Ve- father llll_ r !lt >>V lll'll'llt lint jil'iil ahlv hi', W hieh l:;l- this 
 
 I.'!,.'.' tu tin' !:('. ..f Ixmhliinan. that n< : i l.o\e ( : :i r s . ! 1 . 1 
 
 with liiin. We then timl such - ! -m 1 1 :i im >iiiif-< -ni> -ii t a.- the full w- 
 me : " I.u\ e h:el >eareel v aiiima.K erte.l mi Trotter, when Iowa- 
 earrie.l l.efoiv the jmlieatorie- of the kirk l.y Mr. Svl-eif. the 
 iiiini-ter nl I >iiiiiliartoii, who aeeu-o.l in in . .1 l>r irlii'/ "n ./>''/// </-/ y ; 
 ami whn. ' il ill trial, was I : i _'. i to make a [ml. lie 
 
 h jv fir having maliei. >u- lv aeeu-eil ealmnniate.l iminemiee." A 
 j . r i 1 1 1 l" j''.l.li-li:;i s I" "k- iahailat.il f < . r an e\tm:-i\e ah' i- tl 
 Ir-ei'ili.'il: -To th.' e ..thiT .(iialitie- . >f ]ini.imn'e, of in.In- ; rv. and 
 of at ! -lit i "ii, K'i l.l i lima a :i- ! 1 I jn.l _rtm -lit . II. . i, . 1 n |.rint i 1. i .li.l 
 
 e.l'ltioll- ofl k- fir the j.nl.lie - 1 ; keil'nl n,,| [.!,!. HJ, \ . llllli.- 
 
 f.il- the jieril-al of the few ; !;; he rhielly employe.! hi ]:-- ill 
 -iq.plvine- Seotlaml with hook-, whieh, from their .tail-.' me, ha. I a 
 general -ale : an. I he w:i- lv tl i- motive iiil u 1 t - fi.rni-h emmtrv 
 
 -hoj.keepel- with -el 1-1,,,'. k- at the I. .'.,'-' rate." 
 
 VOL. I. -15
 
 370 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 " This is a very pompous exordium, you see ; but 
 what will you say when I tell you that all this is 
 occasioned by my obtaining a petty office of forty or 
 fifty guineas a-year. Since Caligula of lunatic memory, 
 who triumphed on account of the cockle shells which 
 he gathered on the sea shore, no one has ever erected 
 a trophy for so small an advantage. But judge not 
 by appearances ! perhaps you will think, when you 
 know all the circumstances, that this success is 
 both as extraordinary in itself, and as advantageous 
 to me, as any thing which could possibly have hap- 
 pened. 
 
 " You have probably heard that my friends in 
 Glasgow, contrary to my opinion and advice, under- 
 took to get me elected into that college ; and they 
 had succeeded, in spite of the violent and solemn 
 remonstrances of the clergy, if the Duke of Argyle 
 had had courage to give me the least countenance. 
 Immediately upon the back of this failure, which should 
 have blasted for some time all my pretensions, the 
 office of library keeper to the Faculty of Advocates 
 fell vacant, a genteel office, though of small revenue ; 
 and as this happened suddenly, my name was imme- 
 diately set up by my friends without my knowledge. 
 The President, and the Dean of Faculty his son, who 
 used to rule absolutely in this body of advocates, 
 formed an aversion to the project, because it had not 
 come from them ; and they secretly engaged the whole 
 party called squadroney against me. The bigots joined 
 them, and both together set up a gentleman of 
 character, and an advocate, and who had great favour 
 on both these accounts. The violent cry of deism, 
 atheism, and scepticism, was raised against me ; and 
 'twas represented that my election would be giving 
 the sanction of the greatest and most learned body of
 
 :V:r. -10-11. I.IItHARIAN <F Al>\<'( AT1.S' LIMRAUY. ,';| 
 
 men in tliis country t<> my profane and irreligious 
 principles. But what wa.s more dangerous, my op- 
 ponents entered into a regular concert and cabal 
 against me : while my friends were contented to speak 
 well of their project in LCeneral, without having (Mice 
 formed a regular list of the electors, or considered of 
 \\\c proper methods of ene^a^ine; them. Tliinirs went 
 on in this neu'lin'cnt manner till within six days of 
 the election, when they met together and found them- 
 selves in some danger of beine outnumbered ; imme- 
 diately upon which they raised the cry of indignation 
 against the opposite party: and the public joined 
 them so heartily, that our antagonists durst .-how their 
 heads in no companies nor assemblies : expresses were 
 despatched to the country, assistance Hocked to us 
 from all quarters, and 1 carried the election by a 
 considerable majority, to the ca'cat joy of all by- 
 standers. When faction and party enter into a cause, 
 the small st trille becomes important. Nothing since 
 tlm rebellion has ever so much i'ii^;i^ril the attention 
 of this town, except 1 'rovost St i' wart's trial : and there 
 ,-carce is a man whose friend-hip or acquaintance 1 
 would desire, who has not ufiven me undoubted proofs 
 of his concern and regard. 
 
 " \\ hat is more extraordinary, the cry of religion 
 co ul 1 1 not hinder the la die.-- from beinn' violently in v parti- 
 sans, ami ! owe my success in a urea', measure to their 
 solicitations, 'hie has broke oil" all commerce uith 
 her lover, b"cau>" he voted against me ' and \\ . Lock- 
 hart, in a speech to the faculty, said that there was 
 no walking the street-, nor even eiijoyiue; one's own 
 
 fireside, on account of their importunate zeal. The 
 town says, that even his bed was not safe for him, 
 
 thouu'h his wife was cousin-Lrerman to my antagonist. 
 " 'Twas vulearlv -iveii out. that the contest was
 
 372 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 betwixt Deists and Christians ; and when the news of 
 my success came to the Play-house, the whisper ran 
 that the Christians were defeated. Are you not 
 surprised that we could keep our popularity, notwith- 
 standing this imputation, which my friends could not 
 deny to be well founded ? 
 
 " The whole body of cadies bought flambeux, and 
 made illuminations to mark their pleasure at my 
 success; and next morning I had the drums and 
 town music at my door, to express their joy, as they 
 said, of my being made a great man. They could 
 not imagine, that so great a fray could be raised 
 about so mere a trifle, 
 
 " About a fortnight before, T had published a Dis- 
 course of the Protestant Succession, wherein I had 
 very liberally abused both Whigs and Tories ; yet I 
 enjoyed the favour of both parties. 
 
 " Such, dear Doctor, is the triumph of your friend ; 
 yet, amidst all this greatness and glory, even though 
 master of 30,000 volumes, and possessing the smiles 
 of a hundred fair ones, in this very pinnacle of human 
 grandeur and felicity, I cast a favourable regard on 
 you, and earnestly desire your friendship and good- 
 will : a little flattery too, from so eminent a hand, 
 would be very acceptable to me. You know you 
 are somewhat in my debt, in that particular. The 
 present I made you of my Inquiry, was calculated 
 both as a mark of my regard, and as a snare to catch 
 a little incense from you. Why do you put me to the 
 necessity of giving it to myself? 
 
 " Please tell General St. Clair, that W. St. Clair, 
 the Advocate, voted for me on his account ; but his 
 nephew, Sir David, was so excessively holy, that 
 nothing could bring him over from the opposite 
 party, for which he is looked down upon a little by
 
 /Ei. 40-11. LIBRARIAN <>1 ADVOCATES' LIBRARY. 373 
 
 the fashionable company in town. Hut he is a very 
 pretty fellow, and will soon regain the little ground 
 he has lost. 
 
 " I am, dear Doctor, vours sincerely." 
 
 This letter is evidently but half serious. That 
 there was a good deal of contest and caballing is 
 pretty clear ; and it is equally clear that liuine took 
 a deep interest in the result : but he appears to have 
 been inclined to laugh a little at his own fervour, and 
 to hide the full extent of his feelings under a cloud of 
 playful exaggeration. 
 
 The Advocates' Library, which is now probably 
 next in extent in Britain after the Bodleian, cannot 
 then have borne any great proportion to its present size. 
 It had. however, existed tor up wards of seventy years, 
 and was undoubtedly the largest collection of books 
 in Scotland. It was rich, perhaps unrivalled, in the 
 works of the civilians and canonists, and possessed, 
 what was more valuable to Hume, a considerable 
 body of British historical literature, printed and MS.' 
 Hume's duties must have involved some attention. 
 not only to the classification and custody of the books, 
 but to the arrangements for making them accessible to 
 the members of the Faculty, as numerous entries in his 
 hand are to be found in the receipt book for borrowed 
 books. ' 
 
 1 'i'lic ,-!at<' nt tin- lilirarv in I limit-'.- tiiiK- niav l- :. r ue--eil at 
 by < - 1 1 1 - 1 1 1 1 i 1 1 _-" tin- lir.-t volume of the catalogue, printd under I v u< 1- 
 iliinan'.- auspice- in 17I-. f< 1 i < . It i- a singular circum-tance that 
 thi- lihrarv ha alwav.- Im-c-ii \ erv ilelieieiit in the earlv . 1 1 : i < > 1 1 - < - i 
 Hume- wni'k- thn-e winch were puhli-lied ln-fore hi- librarian 
 ship. Another -it of work-, which one mi.--e- in the earlv cata- 
 logues, cun-i-t- in the coiitrove r-ial In. ok-, written l>v l."_'a-; 
 iu/itui.-'t it- previous librarian. KtnMimau. 
 
 5 The a-.-i.-tant, wln.i-e remuneration \va- to bo a! the pleasure of
 
 374 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1752. 
 
 Hume informs us, that the stores thus put at his 
 command enabled him to put his historical designs 
 in practice, by commencing the " History of England." 
 We shall now find a great part of his correspondence 
 devoted to the " History of the House of Stuart," 
 which appears to have been commenced early in 1752. 
 The following is the earliest extant letter to Smith : 
 
 the Faculty, according to the above minute, was Walter Goodall, 
 an unfortunate scholar, whom Hume's predecessor in office, the cele- 
 brated Thomas Iluddiman, had attached to the library as a hanger- 
 on and miscellaneous drudge. The extent of his emoluments may 
 be appreciated from a minute of Faculty, (7th Jan. 1758,) which, in 
 consideration of his long services, awards him a salary of " 5 a- 
 year, over and above what he may receive from the keeper of the 
 library." Goodall's character and fate are summed up in the senten- 
 tious remark of Lord Hailes, that " Walter was seldom sober." Yet 
 he did not a little for historical literature. He was a violent Jacobite 
 and champion of the innocence of Queen Mary; and in 1754 he 
 published, in two volumes 8vo, his "Examination of the Letters said 
 to be written by Mary, Queen of Scots, to James, Earl of Bothwell, 
 showing by intrinsick and extrinsick evidence that they are for- 
 geries." In 1 759 he edited the best edition of Fordun's Scoti- 
 chronicon, in two volumes folio. 
 
 The following traditional anecdote has been preserved, of the 
 keeper and his assistant. ' : One day, while Goodall was composing 
 his treatise concerning Queen Mary, he became drowsy, and laying 
 down his head upon his MSS. in that posture fell asleep. Hume 
 entering the library, and finding the controversialist in that position, 
 stepped softly up to him, and laying his mouth to Watty's ear, 
 roared out with the voice of a stentor, that Queen Mary was a whore 
 and had murdered her husband. Watty, not knowing whether it 
 was a dream or a real adventure, or whether the voice proceeded 
 from a ghost or a living creature, started up, and before he was 
 awake or his eyes well opened, he sprang upon Hume, and seizing 
 him by the throat, pushed him to the farther end of the library, 
 exclaiming all the while that he was some base Presbyterian parson, 
 who was come to murder the character of Queen Mary, as his pre- 
 decessors had contributed to murder her person. Hume used to tell 
 this story witli much glee, and Watty acknowledged the truth of 
 it with much frankness." Chambers's Biographical Dictionary of 
 Eminent Scotsmen, vorc Goodall.
 
 .!>. 4!. 
 
 PREPARATION OP TUP HISTORY. 
 
 1 Ir.Mi: tn A dam Smith. 
 
 " -2\th Sept. 1752. 
 
 " Dkah Sir, I confess I was once of the same 
 opinion with you, and thought that the best period to 
 begin an English history was about Henry the Seventh. 
 But you will please to observe, that the change which 
 then happened in public affairs, was very insensible, 
 and did not display its inlluence till many years after- 
 wards. 'Twas under dames that the House of Com- 
 mons began first to raise their head, and then the 
 quarrel betwixt privilege and prerogative commenced. 
 The government, no longer oppressed by the enormous 
 authority of the crown, displayed its genius; and the 
 factions which then arose, having an influence on our 
 present affairs, form the most curious, interesting, and 
 instructive part of our history. The preceding events, 
 or causes, may easily be shown, in a reflection or re- 
 view, which may be artfully inserted in the body of 
 the work ; and the whole, by that mean-, be rendered 
 more compact and uniform. 1 confess, that the sub- 
 ject appears to me very hue ; and I enter upon it 
 with great ardour and pleasure. You need not doubt 
 of my perseverance. 
 
 " J am just now diverted for a moment, by correcting 
 my ' Essays Moral and Political.' for a new edition. 
 [f any thing occur to you to be inserted or retrenched, 
 I shall be obliged to you for the hint. In cast 1 you 
 should not have the last edition by you, 1 shall send 
 you a copy of it. In that edition I was engaged to 
 act contrary to my judgment, in retaining the sixth 
 and seventh Essays, 1 which I had resolved to throw 
 out, as too frivolous for the rest, and not very agree- 
 able neither, even in that trifling manner : but Millar, 
 
 Of I n 
 
 larnairo, an 
 
 ml ( 'f tlir Study of Historc."
 
 376 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1753. 
 
 my bookseller, made such protestations against it, and 
 told me how much he had heard them praised by the 
 best judges, that the bowels of a parent melted, and 
 I preserved them alive. 
 
 " All the rest of Bolingbroke's works went to the 
 press last week, as Millar informs me. I confess my 
 curiosity is not much raised. 
 
 " I had almost lost your letter by its being wrong 
 directed. I received it late, which was the reason 
 why you got not sooner a copy of Joannes Magnus. 
 Direct to me in Riddal's Land, Lawnmarket. I am, 
 dear Sir, yours sincerely." 1 
 
 Hume to Dr. Clephane. 
 
 1753. 
 
 " Dear Doctor, I need not inform you, that in 
 certain polite countries, a custom prevails, of writing 
 Icttrcs de la nouvcllc annee, and that many advantages 
 result from this practice, which may seem merely 
 ceremonious and formal. Acquaintance is thereby 
 kept up, friendship revived, quarrels extinguished, 
 negligence atoned for, and correspondences renewed. 
 A man who has been so long conscious of his sins, 
 that he knows not how to return into the way of 
 salvation, taking advantage of this great jubilee, wipes 
 off all past offences, and obtains plenary indulgence ; 
 instances are not wanting of such reclaimed sinners, 
 who have afterwards proved the greatest saints, and 
 have even heaped up many works of supererogation. 
 Will you allow me, therefore, dear Doctor, in consi- 
 deration of my present penitence, and hopes of my 
 future amendment, to address myself to you, and to 
 wish you many and happy new years, multos pA f dices. 
 
 1 Literary Gazette, 1821, p. ?45. The original is in the MSS. 
 R.S.E.
 
 JEt. 11-42. 
 
 PREPARATION OF THE HISTORY 
 
 ol , 
 
 May pleasures spiritual (spirit url*) multiply uj)on 
 you without a decay of the carnal. May riches 
 increase without an augmentation of desires. May 
 your chariot still roll along without a failure of your 
 limbs. May your tongue in due time acquire the 
 social sweet ijnmditj/ of age, without your teeth losing 
 
 the sharpness and keenness of youth. May 
 
 but you yourself will best supply the last prayer. 
 whether it should be for the recovery or continuance 
 of the blessing which I hint at. In either case, may 
 your prayer be granted, even though it should extend 
 to the resurrection of the dead. 
 
 " I must now set you an example, and speak of 
 myself. By this I mean that you are to speak to me 
 of yourself. I shall exult and triumph to you a 
 little, that I have now at last being turned of forty, 
 to my own honour, to that of learning, and to that of 
 the present au'e arrived at the dignity of being 
 a householder. About seven months ago, I got a 
 house of my own, and completed a regular family ; 
 consisting of a head, viz. myself, and two inferior 
 members, a maid and a cat. My sister has since 
 joined me, and keeps me company. With frugality I 
 can reach, I find, cleanliness, warmth, light, plenty, 
 and contentment. What would you have more ? 
 Independence? I have it in a supreme degree. 
 Honour '. that is not altogether wanting. Grace? 
 that will come in time. A wife? that is none of the 
 indispensable requisites of life. Books? that A one 
 of them ; ami I have more than I can use. In short. 
 I cannot find any blessing of consequence which I am 
 not possessed of, in a greater or less degree; and 
 without any great effort of philosophy, 1 may be easy 
 and satisfied. 
 
 " As there is no happiness without occupation, I
 
 378 TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1753. 
 
 have begun a work which will employ me several 
 years, and which yields me much satisfaction. 'Tis 
 a History of Britain, from the Union of the Crowns 
 to the present time. I have already finished the 
 reign of King James. My friends flatter me (by 
 this I mean that they don't flatter me) that I have 
 succeeded. You know that there is no post of honour 
 in the English Parnassus more vacant than that of 
 history. Style, judgment, impartiality, care every 
 thing is wanting to our historians ; and even Rapin, 
 during this latter period, is extremely deficient. I 
 make my work very concise, after the manner of 
 the ancients. It divides into three very moderate 
 volumes : one to end with the death of Charles the 
 First ; the second at the Revolution ; the third at 
 the Accession, 1 for I dare come no nearer the present 
 times. The work will neither please the Duke of 
 Bedford nor James Fraser ; but I hope it will please 
 you and posterity, k^/m ?;? <keL 
 
 " So, dear Doctor, after having mended my pen, and 
 bit my nails, I return to the narration of parliamen- 
 tary factions, or court intrigues, or civil wars, and 
 bid you heartily adieu. 
 
 " Edinburgh, RiddaVs Land, 
 5th January, 1753. 
 
 " P.S. When I say that I dare come no nearer 
 the present time than the Accession, you are not to 
 imagine that I am afraid either of danger or offence ; 
 I hope, in many instances, that I have shown myself 
 to be above all laws of prudence and discretion. I 
 only mean, that I should be afraid of committing 
 
 1 Thus it appears that it was his original intention to continue 
 the history down to 1714, before he went back to the earlier 
 
 periods.
 
 A'.:, -n-42. PREPARATION" OK Till'. HISTORY. .;;.) 
 
 mistakes, in writing of so rccont :i period, by reason 
 of the want of materials." l 
 
 IIiMi: (it Dr. Ci.r.piiAN!:. 
 
 : " Dear Doctor, This is delivered to you by my 
 friend Mr. Wedderbnrn, 2 who makes a jaunt to Lon- 
 don, partly with a view to study, partly to entertain- 
 ment. 1 thought I could not do him a better office, 
 nor more suitable to both these purposes, than to 
 recommend him to the friendship and acquaintance of 
 a man of learning and conversation. lie is young 
 
 ' Mais (Litis los anies. bien neos 
 La vertuf n'attend point le nombro 'If- anuees.' 
 
 It will be a great obligation, both to him and me, 
 if you give him encouragement to see you frequently; 
 and, after that, 1 doubt not you will think that you 
 owe me an obligation 
 
 I.n in LriovtMiile corpo senile senile' 
 
 " But 1 will say no more of him, lest my letter fall 
 into the same fault which may be remarked in his 
 behaviour and conduct in life; the only fault which 
 has been remarked in them, that of promising so much 
 that it will be difficult for him to support it. You 
 will allow that he must have been guilty of some 
 error of this kind, when 1 tell you that the man, with 
 whose friendship and company I have thought my- 
 self very much favoured, and whom I recommend to 
 you as a friend and companion, is just twenty. I am, 
 dear Doctor, your atfectionate friend and servant."' 1 
 
 1 From the original at Kilravoek. 
 
 - Probably Alexander Wedderbnrn, afterwards Lord I'hancclloi 
 Loughborough, who wa? then twenty years of ag< . 
 3 From the original at Kilravoek.
 
 380 TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1753. 
 
 Hume to James Oswald. 
 
 "Jack's Land, 28th June, 1753. 
 
 " Dear Sir, I am to give you great and very hearty 
 thanks for your care in providing for my cousin, at 
 my desire. The quickness in doing it, and the many 
 oblmino; circumstances attending that good office, I 
 shall not readily forget. What is usual, they say, 
 makes little impression ; but that this rule admits of 
 exceptions, I feel upon every instance of your friend- 
 ship. 
 
 " Mr. Mure told me that you had undertaken to get 
 satisfaction with regard to the old English subsidies. 
 I cannot satisfy myself on that head ; but I find that 
 all historians and antiquarians are as much at a loss. 
 The nobility, I observe, paid according to their rank 
 and quality, not their estates. The counties were 
 subjected to no valuation ; but it was in the power of 
 the commissioners to sink the sums demanded upon 
 every individual, without raising it upon others ; and 
 they practised this art when discontented with the 
 court, as Charles complains of with regard to the 
 subsidies voted by his third parliament : yet it seems 
 certain that there must have been some rule of esti- 
 mation. What was it ? Why was it so variable ? 
 Lord Strafford raised an Irish subsid} 7 from 12,000 
 to 40,000, by changing the rule of valuation ; but 
 the Irish Parliament, after his impeachment, brought 
 it down again : if Mr. Harding undertakes the solu- 
 tion of this matter, it will be requisite to have these 
 difficulties in his eye. I am glad to hear that we are 
 to have your company here this summer, and that I 
 shall have an opportunity of talking over this, and 
 many other subjects, where J want your advice and 
 opinion. The more I advance in my work, the more 
 1 am convinced that the history of England has never
 
 .Ft. 4: 
 
 PREPARATION OF Till; HISTORY. 
 
 :)s\ 
 
 yet l)eon written; not only tor stylo, which is noto- 
 rious to all the world, but also for matter: such is the 
 ignorance and partiality of all our historians. Kupin, 
 whom 1 had an esteem for, is totally despicable. I 
 may bo liable to the reproach of ignorance, but I am 
 certain of escaping that of partiality: the truth is, 
 there is so much reason to blame, and praise, alter- 
 nately, king and parliament, that I am afraid the 
 mixture of both, in my composition, being so equal, 
 may pass sometimes for an affectation, and not the 
 nsult of judgment and evidence. Of this you shall be 
 judge; for I am resolved to encroach on your leisure 
 and patience ; 
 
 Quoin von i arrijmit, tonot r>cci<lit<[iiL' leirotuln. 
 
 Let me hear of you as you pass through the town, 
 that we may concert measures for my catching you 
 idle, and without company, at Kirkcaldy. I am." \-c.' 
 The rapidity with which the first volume of the 
 History of Imgland" was composed and printed, has 
 been the object both of surprise and censure. Hume's 
 labours at this time must have been intense; and 
 during the whole of the period in which he was 
 engaged in the different departments of this groat 
 work from I 7 ">- to 1 7(i)> his correspondence is 
 more scanty than at other periods of his history. 
 Four months elapse between the letter last printed, 
 and the next in order which has been preserved; and 
 in the latter, we find him very wittily alluding to 
 those great labours which he linds absorbing the 
 pcttv duties of social intercourse. 
 
 1 I (Ml! (o I Hi. ( 'l.l'.l'II AN'K. 
 
 - -2-'/: <>' .'.,-. I ;.-,:}. 
 
 Dear Doctor, I know not if you remember the 
 
 1 Memorial- -f .Jam.vs <>o. v;l |,l. p. :_'.
 
 ^82 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1753. 
 
 giant in Rabelais, who swallowed every morning a 
 windmill to breakfast, and at last was choked upon a 
 pound of melted butter, hot from an oven. I am going 
 to compare myself to that giant. I think nothing of 
 despatching a quarto in fifteen or eighteen months, 
 but am not able to compose a letter once in two 
 years ; and am very industrious to keep up a corre- 
 spondence with posterity, w 7 hom I know nothing about, 
 and who, probably, will concern themselves very little 
 about me, while I allow myself to be forgot by my 
 friends, whom I value and regard. However, it is 
 some satisfaction that I can give you an account of 
 my silence, with which I own I reproach myself. I 
 have now brought down my History to the death of 
 Charles the First : and here I intend to pause for 
 some time ; to read, and think, and correct ; to look 
 forward and backward ; and to adopt the most mode- 
 rate and most reasonable sentiments on all subjects. 
 I am sensible that the history of the two first Stuarts 
 will be most agreeable to the Tories ; that of the two 
 last to the Whigs ; but we must endeavour to be 
 above any regard either to Whigs or Tories. 
 
 " Having thus satisfied your curiosity for I will 
 take it for granted that your curiosity extends to- 
 wards me I must now gratify my own. I was very 
 anxious to hear that you had been molested witli 
 some disorders this summer. J was told that you 
 expected they would settle into a fit of the gout. It 
 is lucky where that distemper overtakes a man in 
 his chariot : we foot-walkers make but an awkward 
 figure with it. I hope nobody has the impertinence 
 to say to you, Physician, cure thyself. All the world 
 allows that privilege to the gout, that it is not to be 
 cured : it is itself a physician ; and, of course, some- 
 times cures and sometimes kills. I fancy one fit of
 
 .-Lr. ;_'. 
 
 PREPARATION < >K 111 II HISTORY. 
 
 ;,s:; 
 
 the gout would much increase your stuck of interjec- 
 tions, and render that part of speech, which in com- 
 mon grammars is usually the most barren, with you 
 more copious, than either nouns or verbs. 
 
 " I must tell you good news of our friend Sir Harry. 
 1 am informed that his talent for eloquence will not 
 rust for want of employment : he bids fair for another 
 seat of the house: and what is the charming part of 
 the story, it is General Anstruther's seat winch he is 
 to obtain, lie has made an attack on the General's 
 boroughs, and. by the assistance of his uncle's interest 
 ami purse, is likely to prevail. Is not this delicious 
 revenge? It brings to my mind the story of the 
 Italian, who reading that passage of Scripture. ' Ven- 
 geance is mine, saith tiie Lord." burst forth. ' Ay, to 
 be sure ; it is too sweet for any mortal.' 1 own 1 
 envv Sir Harry: 1 never can hope to hate any body 
 so perfectly as he does that renowned commander; 
 and no victory, triumph, vengeance, success, can be 
 more complete. Are not you pleased too? I 'ray, 
 anatomize your own mind, and tell me how many 
 grains of your satisfaction is owinj; to malice, and 
 how many ounces to friendship. I leave the rest of 
 this paper to be tilled up by Kdmonstonc. 1 am, \c. 
 
 '* l'.S. After keeping this by me eight days, 1 
 have never been aide to meet with Kdnionstone. 1 
 must, therefore, send off my own part of a letter 
 which we projected in common. 1 shall only tell 
 vou. that 1 have since seen Mr. Oswald, who assures 
 mo that Anstruther's defeat is infallible." 
 
 The following letter to the same friend is a curious 
 instance of Hume's diligent efforts to attain a correct 
 English style: 
 
 1 s\-ots Mi-/. LSOl'. p. ?M. ('..llat>.l with nn-ii-i! a: Kilrav. I,.
 
 384 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1753, 
 
 Hume to Dr. Clephane. 
 
 "Edinburgh, 8th Dec. 1753. 
 
 " Dear Doctor, I am at present reduced to the 
 utmost straits and difficulties. I know people are 
 commonly ashamed to own such distresses. But to 
 whom can one have recourse in his misfortunes, but 
 to his friends ? and who can I account my friend, if not 
 Dr. Clephane? not a friend only in the sunshine of 
 fortune, but also in the shade of adversity : not a 
 security only in a calm ; but in a storm a sheet- 
 anchor. But, to cut short all prefaces, though, 
 commonly, beggars and authors abound with them, 
 and I unite both these qualities, the occasion of my 
 distress is as follows : 
 
 " You know that the word enough, or enuff, as it is 
 pronounced by the English, we commonly, in Scotland, 
 when it is applied to number, pronounce enow. Thus 
 we would say : such a one has books enow for 
 study, but not leisure enuff. Now I want to know, 
 whether the English make the same distinction. I 
 observed the distinction already in Lord Shaftesbury ; 
 ' Though there be doors enow,' says he, ' to get out of 
 life;' and thinking that this distinction of spelling 
 words, that had both different letters, and different 
 pronunciation, was an improvement, I followed it in 
 my learned productions, though I knew it was not 
 usual. But there has lately arisen in me a doubt, 
 that this is a mere Scotticism ; and that the English 
 always pronounce the word, as if it were wrote enuff, 
 whether it be applied to numbers or to quantity. To 
 you, therefore, I apply in this doubt and perplexity. 
 Though I make no question that your ear is well 
 purged from all native impurities, yet trust not 
 entirely to it, but ask any of your English friends,
 
 Air. r.l. 
 
 KINDNKSS To BLACK LOCK. 
 
 3S.") 
 
 that frequent good cuinpany, and let me know their 
 opinion. 
 
 " It is a rule of Vaugelas always to consult the 
 ladies, rather than men. in all doubts of language : 
 and lie asserts, that they have a more delicate sense 
 of the propriety of expressions. The same author 
 advises us. if we desire any one's opinion in any 
 grammatical difficulty, not to ask him directly : for 
 that confounds his memory, and makes him forget 
 the use, which is the true standard of language. 
 The best wav, savs he, is to encage him as it were 
 by accident, to employ the expression about which 
 we are in doubt. Now, if you are provided of any 
 expedient, for making the ladies pronounce the word 
 enough, applied both to quantity and number, 1 beg 
 you to employ it. and to observe carefully and atten- 
 tively, whether they make any difference in the pro- 
 nunciation. 1 am. <Sjc. 
 
 " I'.S. I am quite in earnest in desiring a solution 
 of my grammatical doubt." 1 
 
 The gentle sensitive character, and hard fate of 
 poor blind Thomas I'lacklock, the poet, operated 
 strongly on Hume's kindly feelings. He busied him- 
 self with many schemes for enabling his unfortunate 
 friend to gain a subsistence which might make him 
 enjoy "the glorious privilege of being independent:" 
 but with small success. This appears to be the only 
 pursuit which he permitted to divert his attention, at 
 this time, from his great work. We find him writ- 
 ing the following letter to a person whose position in 
 society might enable him to do some substantial ser- 
 vice to Blackloek. 
 
 - V M<n/,i :;><'. 1H)2. i>. PU'2. 
 
 Vol.. 
 
 J. C
 
 386 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1764. 
 
 Hume to Mattiieav Sharp of Hoddam. 
 
 " Edinburgh, 25th February, 1754. 
 
 " Dear Sir, I have enclosed this letter under one 
 to my friend Mr. Blacklock, who has retired to Dum- 
 fries, and proposes to reside there for some time. His 
 character and situation arc no doubt known to you, 
 and challenge the greatest regard from every one who 
 has either good taste or sentiments of humanity. He 
 has printed a collection of poems, which his friends 
 are endeavouring to turn to the best account for him. 
 Had he published them in the common way, their 
 merit would have recommended them sufficiently to 
 common sale ; but, in that case, the greatest part of the 
 profit, it is well known, would have redounded to the 
 booksellers. His friends, therefore, take copies from 
 him, and distribute them among their acquaintances. 
 The poems, if I have the smallest judgment, are, many 
 of them, extremely beautiful, and all of them remark- 
 able for correctness and propriety. Every man of 
 taste, from the merit of the performance, would be 
 inclined to purchase them : every benevolent man, 
 from the situation of the author, would wish to 
 encourage him ; and, as for those who have neither 
 taste nor benevolence, they should be forced, by im- 
 portunity, to do good against their will. I must, 
 therefore, recommend it to you to send for a cargo 
 of these poems, which the author's great modesty will 
 prevent him from offering to you, and to engage your 
 acquaintance to purchase them. But, dear sir, T would 
 fain go farther : I would fain presume upon our friend- 
 ship, (which now begins to be ancient between us,) and 
 recommend to your civilities a man who does honour 
 to his country by his talents, and disgraces it by the 
 little encouragement he has hitherto met with. lie 
 is a man of very extensive knowledge and of singular 
 
 ~ CI
 
 Ki. i:;. 
 
 KINDNESS TO ULACKLOCK. 
 
 3S7 
 
 good dispositions ; and his poetical, though very 
 much to 1)0 admired, is the least part of his merit. 
 Ho is very well qualiiied to instruct youth, by his 
 acquaintance both with the languages and sciences ; 
 and possesses so many arts of supplying the want of 
 sight, that that imperfection would he no hinderance. 
 IVrhaps he may entertain some such project in Dum- 
 fries; and he assured you could not do your friends 
 a more real service than by recommending them to 
 him. Whatever scheme he may choose to embrace, 
 I was desirous you should be prepossessed in his 
 favour, and be willing to lend him your countenance 
 and protection, which 1 am sensible would be of great 
 advantage to him. 
 
 ' Since I saw you, 1 have not been idle. I have 
 endeavoured to make some use of the library which 
 was intrusted to me, and have employed myself in a 
 composition of IJritish History, beginning with the 
 union of the two crowns. 1 have finished the reigns of 
 dames and Charles, and will soon send them to the 
 press. 1 have the impudence to pretend that 1 am 
 of no parly, and have no bias. Lord Klibank says, 
 that I am a moderate Whig, and Mr. Wallace that I 
 am a candid Tory. 1 was extremely sorry that I 
 could not recommend your friend to Director Hume, 1 
 us Mr. Cummin desired me. 1 have never exchanged 
 a word with that gentleman since I carried .Jemmy 
 Kirk pal rick to him; and our acquaintance has entirely 
 dropt. I am," c\:e. J 
 
 Another letter by Hume, longer and fuller of de- 
 tail, though it has already appeared in a work well 
 known and much read.' seems to demand insertion 
 
 1 Alexander 1 1 nine, a director of tlio K;i-I India Company. 
 
 - E.Uuilni-ijh Ajiii"-'/ h'r./i*/,-)- f.,r lso:. |>. .".;:>. 
 
 ' Sin-, t\- edition of Spencc'.- Anecdote* ef Hook* and Men, j>. 1 IS.
 
 388 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 here. It is addressed to the author of Polymetis and 
 friend of Pope. 
 
 Hume to Joseph Spence. 
 
 Edinburgh, Oct. 15, 1754. 
 
 Sm, The agreeable productions, with which you have 
 entertained the public, have long given me a desire of being- 
 known to you : but this desire has been much increased by 
 my finding you engage so warmly in protecting a man of 
 merit, so helpless as Mr. Blacklock. I hope you will in- 
 dulge me in the liberty I have taken of writing to you. I 
 shall very willingly communicate all the particulars I know 
 of him ; though others, by their longer acquaintance with 
 him, are better qualified for this undertaking. 
 
 The first time I had ever seen or heard of Mr. Blacklock 
 was about twelve years ago, when I met him in a visit to 
 two young ladies. They informed me of his case, as far as 
 they could in a conversation carried on in his presence. I 
 soon found him to possess a very delicate taste, along with a 
 passionate love of learning. Dr. Stevenson had, at that 
 time, taken him under his protection ; and he was perfecting 
 himself in the Latin tongue. I repeated to him Mr. Pope's 
 elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady, which 1 hap- 
 pened to have by heart : and though 1 be a very bad reciter, 
 I saw it affected him extremely. His eyes, indeed, the great 
 index of the mind, could express no passion : but his whole 
 body was thrown into agitation. That poem was equally 
 qualified to touch the delicacy of his taste, and the tender- 
 ness of his feelings. I left the town a few days after ; and 
 being long absent from Scotland, I neither saw nor heard of 
 him for several years. At last an acquaintance of mine told 
 me of him, and said that he would have waited on me, if his 
 excessive modesty had not prevented him. He soon ap- 
 peared what I have ever since found him, a very elegant 
 genius, of a most affectionate grateful disposition, a modest 
 backward temper, accompanied with that delicate pride, 
 which so naturally attends virtue in distress. His great 
 moderation and frujjalitv, alone with the generositv of a 
 rcw persons, particularly Dr. Stevenson and Provost Alex-
 
 .Ki. l.;. 
 
 KIXD.NKSS To H LACK LOCK. 
 
 oS!) 
 
 ander, had hitherto enabled him to subsist. All his <r<>od 
 qualities arc diminished, or rather perhaps embellished, by a 
 irreat wain of knowledge of the world. Men of very bene- 
 volent or very malignant dispositions are apt to fall into this 
 error; because they think all mankind like themselves: 
 but I am sorry to say that the former are apt to be most 
 egregiously mistaken. 
 
 1 have asked him whether he retained any idea of li'_dit or 
 colours. He assured nie that there remained not the least 
 trace- of them. I found, however, that all the poets, even 
 the most descriptive ones, such as Milton and Thomson, 
 were read by him with pleasure. Thomson is one of his 
 lavourites. I remembered a story in Locke of a blind man. 
 who said that he knew very well what scarlet was: it was 
 like the sound of a trumpet. I therefore asked him, whether 
 he had not formed associations of that kind, and whether he 
 did not connect colour and sound together. He answered, 
 that as he met so often, both in books and conversation, with 
 the term- expressing colours, he had funned some false 
 associations, which supported him when he read, wrote, or 
 talked of colours : but that the associations were of the in- 
 tellectual kind. The illumination of the sun. for instance, 
 he supposed to resemble the presence of a friend ; the cheer- 
 ful colour of (riven, to be like an amiable sympathy. \'c. It was 
 not altogether easy for me to understand him : though I 
 believe, in much of our own thinking, there will be found 
 -.line species of association. Tis certain we always think 
 in -nine Iane;uai:"e, viz. in that which is ni<>-t familiar to us ; 
 and "tis but too frequent to substitute words instead of ideas. 
 
 If you was acquainted with any mystic. J fancy you 
 would'think Mr. lilackloek's case less paradoxical. The 
 nivstics certainlv have associations by which their discourse, 
 which seems jargon to us, becomes intelligible to themselves. 
 I believe t he v commonly substitute the feelings of a common 
 
 amour, in the pla I their heavenly sympathies; and it' 
 
 t.hev be not belied, the type is very apt to engross their 
 hearts, and exclude the tiling typified. 
 
 Apropos to this pas-ion, I once said to my friend, Mr. 
 IJIacklock, that I was sure he did not treat love as he did 
 lours; he did not speak of it without feeling it. There
 
 390 TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 appeared too much reality in all his expressions to allow that 
 to be suspected. " Alas !" said he, with a sigh, " I could never 
 bring my heart to a proper tranquillity on that head. 1 ' Your 
 passion, replied I, will always be better founded than ours, 
 who have sight : we are so foolish as to allow ourselves to 
 be captivated by exterior beauty : nothing but the beauty of 
 the mind can affect you. " Not altogether neither," said he : 
 " the sweetness of the voice has a mighty effect upon me : 
 the symptoms of youth too, which the touch discovers, have 
 great influence. And though such familiar approaches 
 would be ill-bred in others, the girls of my acquaintance in- 
 dulge me, on account of my blindness, with the liberty of 
 running over them with my hand. And I can by that 
 means judge entirely of their shape. However, no doubt, 
 humour, and temper, and sense, and other beauties of the mind, 
 have an influence upon me as upon others. 1 ' 
 
 You may see from this conversation how difficult it is 
 even for a blind man to be a perfect Platonic. But though 
 Mr. Blacklock never wants his Evanthe, who is the real 
 object of his poetical addresses, I am well assured that all 
 his passions have been perfectly consistent with the purest 
 virtue and innocence. His life indeed has been in all respects 
 perfectly irreproachable. 
 
 He had got some rudiments of Latin in his youth, but 
 could not easily read a Latin author till he was near twenty, 
 when Dr. Stevenson put him to a grammar school in Edin- 
 burgh. He got a boy to lead him, whom he found very 
 docible ; and he taught him Latin. This boy accompanied 
 him to the Greek class in the College, and they both learned 
 Greek. Mr. Blacklock understands that language perfectly, 
 and has read with a very lively pleasure all the Greek authors 
 of taste. Mr. William Alexander, second son to our late 
 provost, and present member, was so good as to teach him 
 French ; and he is quite master of that language. He has 
 a very tenacious memory and a quick apprehension. The 
 young students of the College were very desirous of his 
 company, and he reaped the advantage of their eyes, and 
 they of his instructions. Ho is a very good philosopher, 
 and in general possesses all branches of erudition, except 
 the mathematical. The lad who first attended him having
 
 .lvr.4:!. KIXDMXS TO liLACKLOCK. 
 
 3111 
 
 hut I mil. In- has [mt another b >v. whom In- is be^innmu; to 
 instruct ; an* 1 In- writes nic that In- is extremely pleased with 
 his docility. The hoy's parents, who arc people of .substance, 
 have put him into Mr. IJIa-klock's service, chietly on ac- 
 count of the virtuous and learned education which they 
 know he e.ivcs hi- pupils. 
 
 As you are so generous tointeivst yourself in this poor 
 i nan's '-as.-, who is S o mu -h an ohject both of admiration and 
 compassion, I must inform you entirely of his .situation. He 
 has trained about one hundred guineas by this last edition of 
 his poems, and this is the whole stock he has in the world. 
 II" lias also a bursary, about six pounds a-year. 1 be;un a 
 -ubsei-iptioii for supnportiiiij him during live years; and I 
 made out twelve guineas a-vcar anions my actniaintance. 
 That is a most tenable undertakine; ; and some unexpected 
 i Tusals I met with, damped nn . though they have not ijuite 
 
 discouraged me from proceeding. We have the prosj t'of 
 
 another bursarv of ten pounds a-vi-ar in the euft of the 
 
 \.-h ( j in a- ; but to thr shame of Inn i ian nature. we met with 
 
 alti'-. Noblemen interpose with their va let -de-cham bivs 
 
 nurse's" sons, who tln-y think would h, burdens on theni- 
 
 -i-lves. Cotlld we en-lire hut thiriV pounds a-year to this 
 
 iid man of virtue, h w< uhl b < a-y and Ii:i j j \- : 
 
 I - ..]- his wants are mme 1 . u t those whi-di Nature has ^ivrii 
 
 I aii. thoue.li sin- has unhappily loaded him with un>iv titan 
 
 -; hi r i n on. 
 
 His want of knowledge of the world, and t he -ivat deli- 
 cacv of hi- temper, remb-r him unlit for manauiny hoys or 
 ti-acliiii:: a -chool : he would retain no authority. Had it 
 not been for this defect, he could have hern made professor 
 of ( lr< ek in tin (" niversity of Alu-i-ileen. 
 
 Your si'lienn- of publishine,' hi- poems by subscription. I 
 Impi' wi I tarn to account. I think it impo--ib!e he could 
 want, were his e,a->' more ;o-neralIv known. I hope it will 
 I,,. so bv voiir means. Sir (ieor^e Lytth-ton. who has so 
 line a taste, and -o much b.'Uevob'iice o( temper, would cer- 
 tainlv. were th r:\<r laid before him in a ju-l lij.li!. lend his 
 as-ist;uice. or rather imleed ipiite overcome all dilliculties. 
 1 know not. wh. tie r you liavi tin- happitn -- of that evntle- 
 iikid's acquaintance.
 
 392 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 As you are a lover of letters, I shall inform you of a 
 piece of news, which will be agreeable to you : we may hope 
 to see good tragedies in the English language. A young- 
 man called Hume, a clergyman of this country, discovers a 
 very fine genius for that species of composition. Some 
 years ago, he wrote a tragedy called Agis, which some of the 
 best judges, such as the Duke of Argyle, Sir George 
 Lyttleton, Mr. Pitt, very much approved of. I own, though 
 I could perceive fine strokes in that tragedy, I never could in 
 general bring myself to like it : the author, I thought, had 
 corrupted his taste by the imitation of Shakspere, whom he 
 ought only to have admired. But the same author has com- 
 posed a new tragedy on a subject of invention ; and here he 
 appears a true disciple of Sophocles and Racine. I hope in 
 time lie will vindicate the English stage from the reproach of 
 barbarism. 
 
 I shall be very glad if the employing my name in your 
 account of Mr. Blacklock can be of any service. I am, Sir, 
 with great regard, &c. 
 
 P.S. Mr. Blacklock is very docible, and glad to receive 
 corrections. I am only afraid he is too apt to have a 
 deference for other people's judgment. I did not see the 
 last edition till it was printed ; but I have sent him some 
 objections to passages, for which he was very thankful. I 
 also desired him to retrench some poems entirely ; such as 
 the Ode on Fortitude, and some others, which seemed to me 
 inferior to the rest of the collection. You will very much 
 oblige him, if you use the same freedom. I remarked to 
 him some Scotticisms ; but you arc better qualified for doing 
 him that service. I have not seen any of his essays; and 
 am afraid his prose is inferior to his poetry. He will soon 
 be in town, when I shall be enabled to write you further 
 particulars. 
 
 In 1750, Spence published his edition of Black- 
 lock's poems, with a long introduction, in which all allu- 
 sion to Hume's letter, and his services to Blacklock, 
 is carefully avoided. Blacklock was subsequently
 
 A-A. V). 
 
 KIXDNKSS TO i'.L.U'KI/K'K. 
 
 :;[>:; 
 
 alienated from Hume, and was accused by some of 
 ingratitude; while others tlirew the odium of the dis- 
 pute on Hume, who, they said, was mortiih'd hecausc 
 Sj>ence , s edition of lilacklock's I'oems was not 
 dedicated to him. Whoever may have been in the 
 wrong, the latter supposition is erroneous, as we shall 
 find 11 nine at a much later period conferring services on 
 Blacklock, who in his turn gratefully acknowledges 
 them. The zeal of Spenee to Mot from the work any 
 mark that might connect it with the name of Hume, 
 is alluded to with good-natured sarcasm, in a letter 
 to Dr. Clephane, farther on. 
 
 The following letter, connected with another curious 
 circumstance, describes an incident in Hume's conduct 
 to Blacklock. 
 
 Himk tn Adam Smith. 
 
 |)i;ai; Sir, 1 told you that 1 intended to apply 
 to the Faculty for redress : and. if refused, to throw up 
 the library. I was assured that two of the curators 
 intended before the Faculty to declare their willingness 
 to redress me. after which there could be no difficult v 
 to gain a victory over the other two. I Jut before 
 the day came, the Dean prevailed on them to change 
 their resolution, and joined them himself with all his 
 
 interest. 1 saw it then impossible to suet 1, and 
 
 accordingly retracted my application. I Jut being 
 equally unwilling to lose the use of the books, and to 
 bear aii indignity, I retain the oih'ce. but have given 
 lilacklock, our blind poet, a bond of annuitv for the 
 salarv. I have now put it out of these malicious 
 fellows' power to otter me any indignity, while mv 
 motive for remaining in this oih'ce is so apparent. 1
 
 394 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 should be glad that you approve of my conduct. I 
 own I am satisfied with myself." 1 
 
 The following minute or memorandum, in Hume's 
 handwriting, 2 explains the ground of his disgust. 
 One of the " malicious fellows" appears to have been 
 Lord Monboddo ; another, Sir David Dalrymple, after- 
 wards Lord Hailes, with whom he never was on very 
 
 cordial terms. 
 
 "Edinburgh, 27th June, ] Ta-4. 
 
 " This day Mr. James Burnet, [Mr. Thomas 
 
 1 It is out of some vague rumour as to this transaction, that 
 Lord Charlemont must have constructed the following romantic 
 story of Hume. " lie was tender-hearted, friendly, and charitable 
 in the extreme, as will appear from a fact, which I have from good 
 authority. When a member of the University of Edinburgh, and 
 in great want of money, having little or no paternal fortune, and 
 the collegiate stipend being very inconsiderable, he had procured, 
 through the interest of some friend, an office in the university, 
 which was worth about iJ40 a-year. On the day when lie had 
 received this good news, and just when he had got into his posses- 
 sion the patent or grant entitling him to his office, he was visited 
 by his friend Blackloek, the poet, who is much better known by 
 his poverty and blindness than by his genius. This poor man be- 
 gan a long descant on his misery, bewailing his want of sight, his 
 large family of children, and his utter inability to provide for them, 
 or even procure them the necessaries of life. Hume, unable to bear 
 his complaints, and destitute of money to assist him, ran instantly 
 to his desk, took out the grant, and presented it to his miserable 
 friend, who received it with exultation, and whose name was soon 
 lifter, by Hume's interest, inserted instead of his own." Hardy's 
 Memoir? of Charlemont, p. 9. This story is constructed after the re- 
 ceived model of the current anecdotes of Fielding, Goldsmith, and 
 others, and is perhaps as close to the truth as many of them would 
 be found to be, if they were minutely investigated. It is pretty clear 
 that Hume's generosity, for generosity he certainly had, to a very 
 large extent, by the testimony of all who knew him, was not so 
 much the creature of impulse, as that of the authors who have been 
 mentioned above : but such an instance as that just given, is a 
 warning to distrust those anecdotes of the inconsiderate generosity 
 el' men of genius, that are put into a very dramatic shape. 
 - It is alomr with the letter to Smith in the MSS. R.S.I'].
 
 .Kr. -::;. 
 
 TIIK ADVoCAI'I'.S' LIISIIARY 
 
 3D." 
 
 Millar,] and Sir Ihivid Dalrymplo, curators of the 
 library, (then follow .sonic arrangement as to meet- 
 ings.) having if one through sonic accounts of hooks, 
 lately houu'ht for the library, and finding therein 
 the tlirec following; French hooks, (,es Contes de La 
 Fontaine. Lllistoire Anioureuse des (lanles, an 1 
 I/Kcumoire. they ordain that the said hook's be struck 
 out of the catalogue of the lihrary, and removed from 
 the shelves as indecent hooks, and unworthy of a place 
 in a learned library. 
 
 ' And to prevent the like abuses in time to come, 
 they appoint that after this no books shall be houu'ht 
 for the library, without the authority of a meeting of 
 tin. 1 curators in time of session, and of two of them in 
 time of vacation." 
 
 It involves no approval of the licentious features of 
 French literature, to pronounce this resolution of the 
 curators pre-eminently absurd. A public library, 
 pureed of every book of which any portion mi^ht 
 offend the taste of a well-regulated mind of the present 
 daw would unfortunately be very barren in the most 
 brilliant departments of the literature of other days 
 and other laneuiau'cs. It would he wrone; in the 
 guardians of a public library to advance to the dignity 
 of its shelves, those loathsome books written for the 
 promotion of vice, of which, though they be published 
 by no eminent bookseller, exhibited on no respectable 
 counter, advertised in no newspaper, too many have 
 found their way, by secret avenues, into the heart of 
 society, where they corrupt its life-blood. l>ut if 
 (i recce, Kome, and France, if our own ancestor.-. 
 had a freer tone in their imaginative literature than 
 we have, we must yet admit their works to our 
 libraries, if we would have these institutions deposi- 
 taries of the evnius of all times and all places. The
 
 S9G THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 Faculty of Advocates are probably not less virtuous 
 at this moment than they were in 1 754, yet they have 
 now on their shelves the brilliant edition of all La Fon- 
 taine's works, published at Amsterdam in 17G2, so 
 that the expurgatory zeal of the three curators, had 
 only put their constituents to the expense of replacing 
 the condemned book. 1 L'Ecumoire may also still be 
 found in the Advocates' library, along with the other 
 still more censurable works of its author, Crebillon 
 the younger, who was certainly a free writer, but 
 scarcely deserved the very opprobrious name which he 
 obtained, of the French Petronius. Hume was after- 
 wards the acquaintance and correspondent of this 
 author, who was anxious to hear that his works were 
 well received in Britain. Would Hume tell him that 
 it was considered in Edinburgh an offence against 
 decency, to admit one of them to a national library? 
 The other condemned work, which is generally attri- 
 buted to Bussy Rabutin, is not now to bo found in 
 the catalogues of the Advocates' library. 2 
 
 Amidst such unpleasant interruptions he brought 
 the first volume of his History to a conclusion ; and 
 thus announces the fact to a friend, while in the 
 
 1 The fastidious Gray's appreciation of La Fontaine, is thus re- 
 corded. " The sly, delicate, and exquisitely elegant pleasantry of 
 La Fontaine he thought inimitable, whose muse, however licentious, 
 is never gross ; not perhaps on that account the less dangerous." 
 Kicholls' Reminiscences. Gray's Works, v. 45. 
 
 2 In 1756, some disputes appear to have arisen between the 
 Faculty and their curators, owing to the arbitrary disposal of the 
 books by the latter. On 6th January it was represented by Mr. 
 William Johnstone, that the curators had ordered certain books to 
 be sold, and that the practice was a very questionable one, ' ; seeing 
 as one curator succeeded another yearly, and different men had 
 different tastes, the library might by that means happen to suffer 
 considerably." It was declared that the curators had no right to 
 dispose of books.
 
 HISTORY (IF TIIF. ST I' A UTS. 
 
 midst of his satisfaction he does not forget poor 
 I Haddock. 
 
 Hi'Mi: t<> 1 )\i. ('[.khiam:. 
 
 ~s./,?. i, i;.vi. 
 
 " Dkar Doctor, ! desire you to give me joy. 
 JtniUjiir aims t ,/ ,<//', ,\,-. Tliis day I received from 
 the press the last sheet of the volume of history which 
 I intended to publish; and I am already well ad- 
 vanced in composing the second volume. It was 
 impossible for the booksellers to refuse to several the 
 siu'lit of the sheets as we went on ; and Whig and 
 Tory, and Tory and Wine;, (for I will alternately give 
 them the precedence.) combine as 1 am told in ap- 
 proving of my politics. A few Christians only (and 
 but a few) think 1 speak like a Libertine in religion: 
 be assured I am tolerably reserved on this head. 
 Klliot tells me that you had entertained apprehensions 
 of my discretion: what I had done to forfeit with you 
 the character of prudence. 1 cannot tell, but you will 
 see little or no occasion for any such imputation in 
 this work. I composed it <nl /lop/'l/tm, as well as 
 ml eh rum, and thought, that scepticism was not in 
 its place in an historical production. I shall tak" 
 cure to convey a copy to you by the first opportunity, 
 and shall be very proud of your approbation, and 
 no les< pleased with your reprehensions. 
 
 Our friend A her is again to enjoy the privilege of 
 f ranking after a hiuhts nihlr rfrjlrndus. Kdmonstone is 
 at Peterhead drinking the waters for his health. Sir 
 llarrv lives amonn' his boroughs, but not so assiduous 
 in his civilities as formerly: an instance of ingrati- 
 tude which one would not expect in a man of such 
 nice honour. 1 was lately told, that one day last 
 winter he went to pay a visit to a deacon's wife, who
 
 398 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 happened in that very instant to be gutting fish. 
 He came up to her with open arms, and said he hoped 
 madam was well, and that the young ladies her 
 daughters were in good health. ' Oh, come not near 
 me,' cried she, ' Sir Harry ; I am in a sad pickle, as 
 nasty as a beast.' ' Not at all, madam,' replied he, 
 ' you are in a very agreeable neglige.' ' Well,' said, 
 she, ' I shall never be able to understand your fine 
 English.' ' I mean, madam/ returned he, ' that you 
 are drest in a very genteel deshabille.' 
 
 " There is a young man of this country, Mr. 
 Thomas Blacklock, who has discovered a very fine 
 genius for poetry, and under very extraordinary cir- 
 cumstances. He is the son of a poor tradesman, and 
 was born blind ; yet, notwithstanding these disadvan- 
 tages, he has been able to acquire a great knowledge 
 of Greek, Latin, and French, and to be well acquainted 
 with all the classics in these languages, as well as in 
 our own. He published last winter a volume of 
 Miscellanies, which all men of taste admired extremely 
 for their purity, elegance, and correctness; nor were 
 they devoid of force and invention. I sent up half-a- 
 dozen to Dodsley, desiring him to keep one, and 
 to distribute the rest among men of taste of his ac- 
 quaintance. I find they have been much approved of, 
 and that Air. Spence, in particular, has entertained 
 thoughts of printing a new edition by subscription, for 
 the benefit of the author. You are an acquaintance 
 of Mr. Spence : encourage, T beseech you, so benevo- 
 lent a thought, and promote it every where by your 
 recommendation. The young man has a great deal 
 of modesty, virtue, and goodness, as well as of genius, 
 and notwithstanding very strict frugality, is in great 
 necessities ; but curst, or blest, with that honest pride 
 of nature, which makes him uneasy under obligations,
 
 -Kr. 4.-J. 
 
 HISTORY OF Till; STUARTS. 
 
 '.UK* 
 
 and disdain all applications. 1 need say no more to 
 you. Dear Doctor, believe me, with threat honesty 
 and affection, your friend and servant." 1 
 
 Before the year I 7~> 1 came to an end. there was 
 published, in a quarto volume of four hundred and 
 seventy-three pages, " The History of (ireat Britain. 
 Volume I. Containing the reigns of .James I. and 
 Charles I. Hy David Iluine, I^sq." " lie had now- 
 laid tie 1 foundation of a title to that which all the 
 genius and originality of his philosophical works 
 would never have procured for him the reputation 
 of a popular author. I lis other works might exhibit 
 a wider and a more original grasp of thought : but 
 the readers of metaphysics and ethics are a small 
 number: while the readers of history, and especially 
 of the history of their own country, are a community 
 nearly as o-reat as the number of those who can rend 
 their own language. In this large market he pro- 
 duced his ware; and after some hesitation on the 
 part of those ordinary readers, who had never known 
 his genius as a philosopher, and of those who knew 
 his previous writings, but did not esteem them, it 
 took the place of a permanent marketable commodity 
 a sort of necessary of literary life. The general 
 reader found in it a distinct and animated narrative, 
 announced in a style easy, strong, and elegant. 
 The philosopher and statesman found in it profound 
 and original views, such as the author of the ' Treatise 
 of Human Nature" could not wield the pen withoul 
 occasionally dropping on his pa^e. It was a work 
 at once great in its excellencies and beauties, and 
 
 1 Krnin the < i- i i_ i 1 1 : i 1 at K ilr;i\ i <-k. 
 
 2 Kdmliurji : pulili.-licil Iiy Naniiltt.n. Half'-wr, ami NYill. It i- 
 onteml in tin 1 (' /i'b iii'in'.i M<i<i<i:tnt li-t f"i' Ortnl.n r.
 
 400 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 great in its defects ; yet even the latter circumstance 
 swelled its fame, by producing a host of controversial 
 attacks, conducted by no mean champions. No author 
 or speaker could launch into a defence of monarchical 
 prerogative without triumphantly citing the opinion 
 of Hume; no friend of any popular cause, from 
 Chatham downwards, could appeal to history without 
 condemning his plausible perversions. No season of 
 a debating society has ever ended without the vexed 
 questions he has started being discussed in conjunc- 
 tion with his name. Every newspaper has recorded 
 the editor's opinion of the tendency of Hume's History. 
 In reviews and magazines, and political pamphlets, 
 the references, laudatory or condemnatory, are still, 
 notwithstanding all that has been done for British 
 history in later times, unceasing; and some books, 
 of no small bulk, have been written, solely against 
 the History, as one pamphlet is written against 
 another. 
 
 Of a book which is so universally known, and has 
 been subjected to so thorough a critical examination, 
 both in its narrative and its reflective parts, a detailed 
 criticism in a work like the present would be superflu- 
 ous and unwelcome. But the great extent of the con- 
 troversial writings on the subject, the quantity of able 
 criticism which the controversy has produced, the 
 new light it has frequently been the mean of throw- 
 ing on portions of British history, and the variety of 
 contending opinions it has elicited, do, in some mea- 
 sure, enable one who is partial to that kind of reading, 
 to note slightly and fugitively the leading opinions 
 which this controversy has developed ; and thus, 
 looking back through the whole vista of debate and 
 inquiry, to describe, in general terms, the estimate 
 which those who have since Hume's time studied
 
 .Mi. 1:;. 
 
 HISTORY <>1- Ill i: STl'ART 
 
 401 
 
 British history to host effect, have formed of his great 
 work. Perhaps, for casting a glance at the general 
 principles he has announced as to the progress of the 
 constitution and puhlic opinion in Britain, as well as 
 the general scope and extent of his historical lahours, 
 his work may be divided into two leading depart- 
 ments; the history from the accession of the house 
 of Tudor downwards, winch he completed in 1 7~>i) ; 
 and the history anterior to that epoch, which was 
 published at a later period of his life. In tins 
 arrangement, the general observations will find their 
 place in a subsequent portion of this work : while, in 
 the meantime, the opinions entertained of the narra- 
 tive department of the volume, published in 1754, 
 may be noticed. 
 
 The chief charge brought against it lias been, that 
 in describing the great conflict which ended in the 
 protectorate, the author has shown a partiality to the 
 side of the monarch, and particularly to Charles 1. 
 and his followers; and has endeavoured to make the 
 opposite side Independents, Presbyterians, Republi- 
 cans, or under whatever name they raised the banner 
 of opposition to the court odious and ridiculous. 
 
 Before Hume's day, every historian of those times 
 took his side from the beginning of the narrative, and 
 proclaimed himself either the champion or the op- 
 ponent of the monarchical party. Salmon. Kchard, 
 and ('arte' wrote histories, in which, if they had 
 spoken with decency or temper of (diver Cromwell, 
 the Lonii Parliament, the Presbyterians, or the Inde- 
 pendents, they would have felt that they hail as much 
 neglected their duty, us an advocate who. seeing some 
 
 1 Carte's last volume was posthumously puhlisheil in the year 
 after 1 1 nine's tir.-t. 
 
 VOL. I. "2 1 1
 
 402 
 
 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 irregularity in the case of the opposite party, fails to 
 take advantage of it. The title-page of Salmon 
 announced his project : it promised " Remarks on 
 Rapin, Burnet, and other Republican writers, vindi- 
 cating the just right of the Established Church, and 
 the prerogatives of the crown, against the wild 
 schemes of enthusiasts and levellers, no less active 
 and diligent in promoting the subversion of this beau- 
 tiful frame of government, than their artful predeces- 
 sors in hypocrisy," &c. But Hume professed to 
 approach the subject as a philosopher, and to hold 
 the balance even between Salmon and Echard on the 
 one side, and Oldmixon and Rapin on the other. 
 Hence, when it was believed that, under this air of 
 impartiality, he masked a battery well loaded and 
 skilfully pointed against the principles of the consti- 
 tution, and the efforts of those who had fought for 
 freedom, a louder cry of indignation was raised 
 against him than had ever assailed the avowed re- 
 tainers of the anti-popular cause. 
 
 The tendency of the History was unexpected and 
 inexplicable. In his philosophical examination of 
 the principles of government, written in times of hot 
 party feeling, he had discarded the theories of arbi- 
 trary prerogative and divine right with bold and calm 
 disdain. His utilitarian theory represented the good 
 of the people, not the will or advantage of any one 
 man, or small class of men, as the right object of 
 government. Harrison, Milton, and Sidney, had not 
 expressed opinions more thoroughly democratic than 
 his. " Few things," says a critic, well accustomed to 
 trace literary anomalies to their causes in the minds of 
 their authors, " are more unaccountable, and, indeed, 
 absurd, than that Hume should have taken part with 
 high church and high monarchy men. The persecu-
 
 .Kr. 43. 
 
 HISTORY OF TIIK STUARTS. 
 
 m 
 
 tions which lie suffered in his youth from tin- L'rcs- 
 hyteriuns, may. perhaps, have influenced liis ecclesias- 
 tical partialities. 1 Hut that lie should have sided 
 with the Tudors ami the Stuarts against the people, 
 seems quite inconsistent with all the great traits of his 
 character. His unrivalled sagacity must have looked 
 with contempt on the preposterous arguments by 
 which the ///s d'trLnnn was maintained. His natural 
 benevolence must have suggested the cruelty of sub- 
 jecting the enjoyments of thousands to the caprice of 
 one unfeeling individual; and his own practical inde- 
 pendence in private life, might have taught him the 
 value of those feelings which he has so mischievously 
 derided. 1 ' " 
 
 In truth, it does not appear that Hume had begun 
 his work with the intention of adopting a side in the 
 politics of the time; and that sympathy, rather than 
 rational conviction or political prejudice, dictated 
 Ids partisanship. His misapprehensions regarding 
 the .-tato of the constitution, and the early foundation 
 of British liberties, may be attributed to another 
 'ause ; but in his treatment of the question between 
 Charles I. and his opponents, he appears to have set 
 out with the design of preserving a ri ;id neutrality; 
 to have gradually i'elt his sympathies wavering. to 
 have at first restrained them, then let them sway him 
 slightly from the even middle path, and finally allowed 
 them to take possession of his opinions; opinions 
 which, in their form of expression, still preserved that 
 
 ; 1 1. .!.(- ii ! ;ij-| ;.. t<i 1i:i\ ull'i Ti'<l aiiVy /' <'"',,,,.. hcfiie I.c 
 wrote tin* lir.-l volume 'if 1 lie Hi I >rv ..J' the Smarts, 1 1 1 1 It = the ..<- 
 jio.-itimi to lii- :!]']' inlnient ;i - ;i j>i )' -or de-crve> that name. 
 
 T'ne tone of the Hi.-tory it-elf wa in. 1 1 mie ,,[' the ground-; on 
 
 which he was attacked in the eeele-ia-tioal cu;;rt>. 
 
 - Article bv Lord Jetl'rev in '!',' Iviinlxr-ih R ' >r. xii. i>7<:
 
 404 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 tone of calm impartiality with which he had set out. 
 In the work of Clarendon a scholar, a gentleman, 
 a dignified and elegant writer, a man of high-toned 
 and manly feeling he found an attractive guide. In 
 looking at the structure of Hume's narrative, we can 
 see that Clarendon was the author, whose account of 
 the great conflict was chiefly present to his mind ; 
 and dwelling on his words and ideas, he must have in 
 some measure felt the influence of that plausible 
 writer. As he went on with his narrative, he found 
 on the one side refinement and heroism, an elevated 
 and learned priesthood, a chivalrous aristocracy, a 
 refined court, all " the divinity" that " doth hedge a 
 king," followed by all the sad solemnity of fallen 
 greatness, an adverse contest, borne with steady 
 courage, and humiliation and death endured with 
 patient magnanimity. On the other side appeared 
 plebeian thoughts, rude uncivil speech, barbarous 
 and ludicrous fanaticism, and success consummated 
 by ungenerous triumphs. His philosophical indiffe- 
 rence gave way before such temptations, and he 
 went the way of his sympathies. Yet he never per- 
 mitted himself boldly and distinctly to profess par- 
 tisanship : he still bore the badge of neutrality ; and 
 perhaps believed that he was swerving neither to the 
 right hand nor to the left. An eloquent writer has 
 thus vividly described the tone of his History: 
 
 Hume, without positively asserting- more than he can 
 prove, gives prominence to all the circumstances which can 
 support his case. He glides lightly over those which are 
 unfavourable to it. His own witnesses are applauded and 
 encouraged ; the statements which seem to throw discredit 
 on them are controverted ; the contradictions into which 
 they fall are explained away ; a clear and connected abstract 
 of their evidence is given. Every thing: that is offered on
 
 .1-Lr. in. HISTORY <>F III II STl'ARTS. 4< f .j 
 
 the other side is scrutinized with the utmost severity; every 
 suspicious circumstance is a ground for comment and invec- 
 tive; what cannot be denied is extenuated, or passed by 
 without notice. Concessions even are sometimes made; hut 
 this insidious candour only increases the effect of this vast 
 mass of sophistry. ' 
 
 Vet when there was any thing of a grand and 
 solemn character in the proceedings of the Republican 
 party, when they were not connected with the rude 
 guards, and their insults to the fallen majesty of Eng- 
 land; with the long psalms, long sermons, and long faces 
 of the Puritans; with Trouble-world Lilburne, Praise- 
 God Parebones, or eccentric, stubborn, impracticable 
 William Prynne, lie could employ the easy majesty 
 of his language in surrounding them with a suiting 
 dignity of tone ; and he did so with apparent pleasure. 
 "Witness his description of the meeting of the Long 
 Parliament, and of the preparations for the king's 
 trial before the High Court of .Justice. 
 
 He seems to have frit, not unfrequently, the incon- 
 sistencies that must be perceptible between the torn 
 of his historical, and the political doctrines of his phi- 
 losophical works: and his attempts to reconcile them 
 with each other, sometimes only serve to make the 
 difference more conspicuous. Speaking of the act of 
 holding judgment on Charles I., he says, *' If ever, on 
 any occasion, it were laudable to conceal truth from 
 the populace, it must be confessed that the doctrine 
 of resistance affords such an example; and that all 
 speculative reasoners ought to observe, with regard to 
 this principle, the same cautious silence which the 
 laws, in every species of government, have ever pre- 
 
 1 Article in Ili.-ti iv l>y ~Mr. Macauhiy. l'.d\ui<nr,jli lur'uir, 
 slvii. jt. :>.~j!\
 
 40G THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 scribed to themselves." One could imagine a con- 
 gress of crowned heads, or a conclave of cardinals, 
 adopting such a view ; and resolving, at the same 
 moment, that it should be kept as secret as the grave. 
 But that a man should speak of the right of resistance 
 as existing, and say the knowledge of it ought not to 
 be promulgated, and print and publish this in a book 
 in his own vernacular language, is surely as remark- 
 able an anomaly, as the history of practical contra- 
 dictions can exhibit. 
 
 Owing to his opinion of the manner in which the 
 Abbe Le Blanc had rendered his " Political Dis- 
 courses" into French, he expressed a wish, in the 
 following courteous letter, that the History should have 
 the benefit of being translated by the same hand. 
 
 Hume to the Abbe Le Blanc. 
 
 "Edinburgh, I5tk October, 1754. 
 " Sir, You will receive, along with this, a copy of 
 the first volume of my ' History of Great Britain,' 
 which will be published next winter in London. The 
 honour which you did me in translating my ' Political 
 Discourses,' inspires me with an ambition of desiring 
 to have this work translated by the same excellent 
 hand. The great curiosity of the events related in 
 this volume, embellished by your elegant pen, might 
 challenge the attention of the public. If you do not 
 undertake this translation, I despair of ever seeing it 
 done in a satisfactory manner. Many intricacies in 
 the English government, many customs peculiar to 
 this island, require explication ; and it will be necessary 
 to accompany the translation with some notes, however 
 short, in order to render it intelligible to foreigners. 
 None but a person as well acquainted as you with 
 England and the English constitution, can pretend to
 
 .Kr. I.".. 
 
 HISTORY I)!-" THE STUARTS. 
 
 407 
 
 clear up obscurities, or explain the difficulties which 
 occur. If. at any time, you Hud yourself at a loss, 
 be so good as to inform me. I shall spare no pains 
 to solve all doubts; and convey all the lights which, 
 by in \- 1 o 1 1 lc and assiduous study of the subject, I may 
 have acquired. The distance betwixt us need be no 
 impediment to this correspondence. If you favour 
 me frequently with your letters, I shall be able to 
 render you the same service as if L had the happiness 
 of living next door to you, and was able to inspect 
 the whole translation. Jn this attempt, the knowledge 
 of the two languages is but one circumstance to qualify 
 a man for a translator. Though your attainments, in 
 this respect, be known to all the world, L own that I 
 trust more to tin; spirit of rellection and reasoning 
 which you discover; and I thence expect that my per- 
 formance will not only have justice done it. but will 
 even receive considerable improvements as it passes 
 through your hands. I am. with great regard. Sir. 
 your most obedient and most humble servant/' 1 
 
 The Abbe received the proposal with rapture : he 
 otl'ered to translate with the zeal not only of the illustri- 
 ous author's admirer, but of his friend. He desired 
 Hume to postpone the publication for a while in 
 London, and to send him the sheets with the utmost 
 rapidity, lest he might be forestalled by some of that 
 numerous host of rapid penmen, who are ready, in 
 obedience to the commands of the booksellers, to trans- 
 late such works, without knowing Knglish, or even 
 French. Holland was at that period a great book 
 mart, and there the Abbe found rivals still more ex- 
 peditious; for he was obliged to write to Hume, at a 
 time when he seems to have made little or no progress 
 
 1 Printed in tli'' Appendix of Voltaire et Kou^cuu, par Henry 
 Lord IJroiiudiain. ]' ; 5 10.
 
 4(>s THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1751. 
 
 with his work, stating that he is disheartened by the 
 prospect of the immediate appearance of a translation 
 in Holland, where they employ, in the rendering of 
 excellent books into French, people who are only 
 fit to manufacture paper. In the end, having encoun- 
 tered a host of interruptions, he intimates that he has 
 placed the work in the hands of another person. 1 
 
 Hume to Dr. Clephane. 
 
 "Oct. I8tk, 17") 4. 
 
 " Dear Doctor, I received your kind letter, for 
 which I thank you. Poor Aber 2 is disappointed by 
 a train of Norland finesse, alas what you will. J 
 
 1 See the letter* in Appendix. The French bibliographical 
 works of reference, which are in general very fall, do not mention 
 any translation of the History of the Stuarts earlier than 1760, 
 when Querard and Brunet give the following: 
 
 Histoire de la Maison de Stuart sur le trone d' Angleterre, juxqu'au 
 de'troneinentde Jacques II. traduite de l'Anglois de David Hume, (par L' Abbe' 
 PrcJvost.) Londres (Paris) 1760. 3 vols, in 4to. 
 
 The edition about to appear in Holland, which threw Le Blanc 
 into despair, seems to have been overlooked. This Prevost, or 
 Frevot, is the well-known author of the " Histoire du Chevalier 
 d.es Grieux et de Manon Lescaut," which still holds its place in 
 French popular literature, though it bears but a small proportion to 
 the bulk of his other voluminous works which are forgotten. The 
 authors of the Dictionnaire Historique, say they find in his transla- 
 tion of Hume, ' ; un air etranger, un style souvent embarrasse, 
 seme cPAnglicismes, d'expressions peu Francoises, de tours durs, de 
 phrases loaches et mal construites." This abbe led an irregular 
 life, being a sort of disgraced ecclesiastic, and his death was singu- 
 larly tragical. He had fallen by the side of a wood in a fit of 
 apoplexy. Being found insensible, he was removed as a dead body 
 to the residence of a magistrate, where a surgeon was to open the 
 body to discover the cause of death. At the first insertion of the 
 knife, a scream from the victim terrified all present : but it was too 
 late ; the instrument had entered a vital part 
 
 3 Colonel Abcrcrombie.
 
 .Er. 1.1. HISTORY OF THE STUARTS. 40:) 
 
 have given orders to deliver to you a copy of my 
 History, as soon as it arrives in London, and before 
 it be published. Lend it not till it be published. It 
 contains no paradoxes, and very little profaneness, 
 as little as could be expected. The Abbe Le Blanc, 
 who has translated >onie other of my pieces, intends 
 to translate it, and the enclosed is part of a copy 1 
 send him : excuse the freedom you may perhaps re- 
 ceive some other packets of the same kind, which you 
 an ill please to send carefully to the post-house. The 
 General and Sir Henry are in town, who remember 
 you. Edmonstone is well, and I just now left him a-bed. 
 1 may perhaps be in London for good and all in a 
 year or two. Show me that frugality could make 
 120 a-year do, and 1 am with you : a man of letters 
 ought always to live in a capital, says Bayle. J believe 
 I have no more to say. You'll own that my style has 
 not become more verbose, on account of my writing 
 quartos. Yours affectionately," &C. 1 
 
 1 1 i\m e to \V i l l i a m 1\ I r it i : of Cald well. 
 
 " Dear Mire, 1 had sent to Sharpe a copy of my 
 History, of which I hope you will tell me your opinion 
 with freedom ; 
 
 Finding, like a friend, 
 Something to blame, and something to commend. 
 
 " The first quality of an historian, is to be true and 
 impartial. The next to be interesting. If you do 
 not say that 1 have done both parties justice, and if 
 Mrs. Mure be not sorry for poor King Charles, I shall 
 burn all my papers and return to philosophy. 
 
 " I shall send a copy to Paris to L'Abbe Le Blanc, 
 
 1 1 ruin the original at Kilravoek.
 
 410 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 who lias translated some other of my pieces ; and 
 therefore your corrections and amendments may still 
 be of use, and prevent me from misleading or tiring 
 the French nation. We shall also make a Dublin 
 edition ; and it were a pity to put the Irish farther 
 wrong than they are already. I shall also be so 
 sanguine as to hope for a second edition, when I may 
 correct all errors. You know my docility." * 
 
 Hume to Mrs. Dysart of Ecclcs. 
 
 " 9th October. 
 
 " Dear Madam, As I send you a long book, you 
 will allow me to write a short letter, with this fruit of 
 near two years' very constant application, my youngest 
 and dearest child. You should have read it sooner ; 
 but, during the fine weather, I foresaw that it would 
 produce some inconvenience : either you would attach 
 yourself so much to the perusal of me, as to neglect 
 walking, riding, and field diversions, which are much 
 more beneficial than any history ; or if this beautiful 
 season tempted you, I must lie in a corner, neglected 
 and forgotten. I assure you I would take the pet if 
 so treated. Now that the weather has at last broke, 
 and long nights arc joined to wind and rain, and that 
 a fireside has become the most agreeable object, a new 
 book, especially if wrote by a friend, may not be un- 
 welcome. In expectation, then, that you are to peruse 
 me first with pleasure, then with ease, I expect to 
 hear your remarks, and Mr. Dysart's, and the Solici- 
 tor's. Whether am I Whig or Tory? Protestant or 
 Papist? Scotch or English? I hope you do not all 
 agree on this head, and that there are disputes among 
 you about my principles. We never see you in town, 
 
 1 MS. R.S.E.
 
 /Kr. 4.1. HISTORY OF THE STUARTS. HI 
 
 and T can never get to the country; but I hope I 
 preserve u place in your memory. I am, &c. 
 
 " I'.S. I have seen .John II nine's new unbaptized 
 play, 1 and it is a very line thing. lie now discovers 
 a great genius for the theatre." 
 
 [Written at the top.] " I must beg of you not to 
 lend the book out of your house, on any account, till the 
 middle of November; any body may read it in the 
 house."" 
 
 In a continuation of the letter, of which the part 
 relating to lUacklock was cited above, he thus desires 
 Adam Smith's opinion of the History: 
 
 " Tray tell me, and tell me ingenuously, what 
 success has my History met with among the judges 
 with you. 1 mean Dr. Cullen, Mr. Betham, Mrs. 
 lietham, Mr. Leichman, Mr. Muirhead, Mr. Craw- 
 ford, &c. Dare I presume that it has been thought 
 worthy of examination, and that its beauties are 
 found to overbalance its defects? I am very desirous 
 to know my errors ; and 1 dare swear you think in- 
 tolerably docile to be so veteran an author. I 
 cannot, indeed, hope soon to have an opportunity of 
 correcting my errors; this impression is so very 
 numerous. The sale, indeed, has been very great in 
 Edinburgh ; but how it goes on in London, we have 
 not been precisely informed. In all cases I am 
 desirous of storing up instruction ; and as you are now 
 idle, (I mean, have nothing hut your class to teach, 
 
 1 " I presume this \v:is " Di.n^ln- ;" ami the expression, k lie now 
 discovers a i^reat LTeniu- for the theatre,' I suppo-c was meant to 
 imply Mr. I >. IlunieV opinion of its being better fitted for the .-tago 
 tli:iu\l..//V .'./"/ :;",.. 
 
 - Mackenzie's Account of Home, p. 102. The original in the 
 MS. R.S.E.
 
 412 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754. 
 
 which to you is comparative idleness,) I will insist 
 upon hearing from you. 
 
 "Edinburgh, 17th Dec. 1754." 
 
 The following letter, still on the same subject, in- 
 troduces the name of a new correspondent. 
 
 Hume to the Earl of Balcarres. 
 
 "Edinburgh, \7th December, 1754. 
 
 " My Lord, I did really intend to have paid my 
 respects to your lordship this harvest ; but I have got 
 into such a recluse, studious habit, that I believe 
 myself only fit to converse with books ; and, however 
 I may pretend to be acquainted with dead kings, 
 shall become quite unsuitable for my friends and 
 cotemporaries. Besides, the great gulf that is fixed 
 between us terrifies me. I am not only very sick at 
 sea, but often can scarce get over the sickness for 
 some days. 
 
 " I am very proud that my History, even upon 
 second thoughts, appears to have something tolerable 
 in your lordship's eyes. It has been very much 
 canvassed and read here in town, as I am told ; and 
 it has full as many inveterate enemies as partial 
 defenders. The misfortune of a book, says Boileau, 
 is not the being ill spoke of, but the not being spoken 
 of at all. The sale has been very considerable here, 
 about four hundred and fifty copies in five weeks. 
 How it has succeeded in London, I cannot precisely 
 tell ; only I observe that some of the weekly papers 
 have been busy with me. I am as great an Atheist 
 as Bolingbroke ; as great a Jacobite as Carte ; I 
 cannot write English, &c. I do, indeed, observe that 
 the book is in general rather more agreeable to those 
 they call Tories; and I believe, chiefly for this
 
 A'a.-I'A. HISTORY OF 'NIK STUARTS. 41;} 
 
 reason, that, having no places to bestow, they are 
 naturally more moderate in their expectations from a 
 writer. A Whig, who can give hundreds a-year, 
 will not be contented with small sacrifices of truth ; 
 and most authors are willing to purchase favour at so 
 reasonable a price. 
 
 " I wish it were in my power to pass this Christmas 
 at Balcarres. 1 should be glad to accompany your 
 lordship in your rural improvements, and return 
 thence to relish with pleasure the comforts of your 
 ii reside. You enjoy peace and contentment, my lord, 
 which all the power and wealth of the nation cannot 
 give to our rulers. The whole ministry, they say, is 
 by the ears. This quarrel, I hope, they will fight 
 out among themselves, and not expect to draw us in 
 as formerly, by pretending it is for our good. We 
 will not be the dupes twice in our life. 
 
 " J have the honour to be, my lord, your lordship's 
 most obedient and most humble servant." l 
 
 The literary success that would satisfy Hume 
 
 1 " Lives of the Lindsays, or a Memoir of the Houses of Crawford 
 and Balcarres, bv Lord Lindsay." Hume's correspondent was 
 James, the fifth earl. He had had the misfortune to he " out in the 
 fifteen," and though a zealous and hardy soldier, he in vain attempted 
 to rise in the army ; and at last retiring in disgust, he betook him- 
 self to learned leisure. In the pleasing work above referred to, he 
 is thus picturesquely described : '* Though his aspect was noble, 
 and his air and deportment showed him at once a man of rank, yet 
 there was no denying that a degree of singularity attended his 
 appearance. To his huge brigadier wig, which hung down with 
 three tails, lie generally added a few curl.- of his own application, 
 which I suspect would not have been considered ipiite orthodox bv 
 the trade. His shoe, which resembled nothing so much us a little 
 boat with a cabin at the end of it, was slashed with his pen-knife, 
 for the benefit of giving ease to his honest toes ; here there he 
 slashed it where lie chose to slash, without an idea that the world 
 or its fashions had the smallest right to -mile at his shoe; had they 
 smiled, he would havo smiled too. and probably said, ' Odsfish !
 
 414 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754-1755. 
 
 required to be of no small amount. Though neither, 
 in any sense, a vain man, nor a caterer for ephemeral 
 applause, he was greedy of fame ; and what would 
 have been to others pre-eminent success, appears to 
 have, in his eyes, scarcely risen above failure. His 
 expressions about the reception of his History, have 
 a tinge of morbidness. In John Home's memoran- 
 dum of his latest conversations, it is said that " he 
 recurred to a subject not unfrequent with him, that 
 is, the design to ruin him as an author, by the people 
 that were ministers at the first publication of his 
 History/' 1 In his " own life," written at the same 
 time, the only passage truly bitter in its tone, gives 
 fuller expression to a like feeling : " I was, I own, 
 sanguine in my expectations of the success of this 
 work. I thought that I was the only historian that 
 had at once neglected present power, interest, and 
 authority, and the cry of popular prejudices; and as 
 the subject was suited to every capacity, I expected 
 proportional applause. But miserable was my disap- 
 pointment : I was assailed by one cry of reproach, 
 disapprobation, and even detestation ; English, Scotch, 
 and Irish, Whig and Tory, Churchman and Sectary, 
 Freethinker and Religionist, Patriot and Courtier, 
 united in their rage against the man who had pre- 
 sumed to shed a generous tear for the fate of Charles I. 
 and the Earl of Strafford ; and after the first ebulli- 
 tions of their fury were over, what was still more 
 mortifying, the book seemed to sink into oblivion. 
 Mr. Millar told me, that in a twelvemonth he sold 
 only forty-five copies of it. I scarcely, indeed, heard 
 
 I believe it is not like other people's; but as to that, look, d'ye 
 see? what matters it whether so old a fellow as myself wears a 
 shoe or a slipper.' " 
 
 1 Mackenzie's Account of Home, p. 175.
 
 .Mi', l:)- 11. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE STUARTS. 
 
 of 0110 man in the three kingdoms, considerable for 
 rank or letters, that could endure the book. I must 
 only except the primate of England, Dr. Herring, 
 and the primate of Ireland, Dr. Stone, which seem 
 two odd exceptions. These dignified prelates sepa- 
 rately sent mo messages not to be discouraged. 
 
 ' I was however, I confess, discouraged; and had 
 not the war been, at that time, breaking out between 
 France and England, I had certainly retired to some 
 provincial town of the former kingdom, have changed 
 my name, and never more have returned to my native 
 country. lUit as this scheme was not now practicable, 
 and the subsequent volume was considerably advanced, 
 I resolved to pick up courage, and to persevere." 
 
 Andrew Millar, a countryman of Hume, had. about 
 this time, formed an extensive publishing connexion 
 in London. An arrangement was made, by which he 
 should take the History under his protection, publish 
 the subsequent volumes, and push the sale of the first. 
 The arrangement is said to have been recommended 
 by Hume's Edinburgh publishers; and it shows how 
 much, in that age, as probably also in this, even a 
 great work may depend on the publisher's exertions, 
 for giving it a hold on the public mind. Hume had 
 a pretty extensive correspondence with Millar. Many 
 of the letters are purely on business, and sometimes on 
 business not very important ; but others, such as the 
 following, have some literary interest. Hume appears 
 to have contemplated a translation of Plutarch, and 
 Millar seems to have wished to make him editor of a 
 London newspaper. 
 
 Hi me to Andrew Millar. 
 
 - \-ith April, i ;:>:>. 
 " The second volume of my History 1 can easily find
 
 410 THE LJFE OF DAVID HUME. 1755. 
 
 a way of conveying to you when finished and correct- 
 ed, and fairly copied. Perhaps I may be in London 
 myself about that time. I have always said, to all 
 my acquaintance, that if the first volume bore a little of 
 a Tory aspect, the second would probably be as grate- 
 ful to the opposite party. The two first princes of 
 the house of Stuart were certainly more excusable 
 than the two second. The constitution was, in their 
 time, very ambiguous and undetermined ; and their 
 parliaments were, in many respects, refractory and 
 obstinate. But Charles the Second knew that he had 
 succeeded to a very limited monarchy. His long 
 parliament was indulgent to him, and even consisted 
 almost entirely of royalists. Yet he could not be 
 quiet, nor contented with a legal authority. I need 
 not mention the oppressions in Scotland, nor the 
 absurd conduct of King James the Second. These 
 are obvious and glaring points. Upon the whole, I 
 wish the two volumes had been published together. 
 Neither one party nor the other would, in that case, 
 have had the least pretext of reproaching me with 
 partiality. 
 
 " I shall give no farther umbrage to the godlv, though 
 
 O r? Of 7 
 
 I am far from thinking, that my liberties on that head 
 have been the real cause of checking the sale of the 
 first volume. They might afford a pretext for de- 
 crying it to those who were resolved on other accounts 
 to lay hold of pretexts. 
 
 " Pray tell Dr. Birch, if you have occasion to see 
 him, that his story of the warrant for Lord Loudon's 
 execution, though at first I thought it highly impro- 
 bable, appears to me at present a great deal more 
 likely. 1 I find the same story in " Scotstarvet's 
 
 1 He does not, however, mention it in any of the subsequent edi- 
 tions of Lis History.
 
 /F.r. 43-44. HISTORY OK THK SITARTS. 
 
 417 
 
 StiuxLToriiiLj State." 1 which was published hero a few 
 months n.i;o. The same story, coming from different 
 canals, without any dependence on each other, bears 
 a strong air of probability. I have spoke to Duke 
 Hamilton, who says, that I shall ho very welcome to 
 peruse all his papers. 1 shall take the first opportu- 
 nity of LToinix to the bottom of that affair; ami if I 
 find any confirmation of the suspicion, will le sure 
 to inform Dr. Torch. I own it is the strongest instance 
 of any which history affords, of KiiiLT Charles's arbi- 
 trary principles. 
 
 " I have made a trial of Plutarch, and find that 1 
 take pleasure in it : but cannot yet form so just a 
 notion of the time and pains which it will require, 
 as to tell yon what sum of money 1 would think an 
 equivalent. I>ut I shall be sure to inform you as 
 soon as 1 come to a resolution. The notes requisite 
 will not be numerous, not so many as in the former 
 edition. 1 think so balky a book ouu'bt to be swelled 
 ;i- little as possible; and nothing added but what is 
 u 1 >Iutely requisite. The little trial 1 have made. 
 convinces me that the undertaking will require time. 
 ; d y manner of composing is slow, and I lane uavat 
 difficulty to satisfy myself." - 
 
 1 1 cm i'. in A dam Smith. 
 
 ' Di-'.ai; Sin. 1 bee you to make niy compliments 
 to the Society, and to take the fault on vourself. if 1 
 
 1 Sc !i M'S.'-: eir\ ''!'- Si:i.;_i'i'iii_' Siatr nf Scots- Staif-uii'ii. 
 
 mi ill' I'liiiti'injii-rfirv character-, ilrawn l>v a -hiv\\>l 1> : 
 
 liill.T llllii ::: ! I1J' i!"l> "l.-,T\ ,-r. - MS. Ix'.S. ! '. 
 
 l'.\ i.lmtiv tin* P!i ; l -i]iliii , :il Si.cicty. It wa- in-; ituti i ::; 1 ?:: ! . 
 
 tuii'llv ,-!- a iiiciii.-al i.ty ; li'it. in I T'Sli, it- plan \va- .-.i far . :i- 
 
 !. a- li : imii : ! al"\ < ''"iiiprclii'n-i\ c ili-iii ininati"!). 
 
 vi !.. i. i' i:
 
 418 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754-1755. 
 
 have not executed my duty, and sent them, this time, 
 my anniversary paper. Had I got a week's warning I 
 should have been able to have supplied them. I should 
 willingly have sent some sheets of the history of 
 the Commonwealth, or Protectorship ; but they are 
 all of them out of my hand at present, and I have 
 not been able to recall them. 
 
 " I think you are extremely in the right, that the Par- 
 liament's bigotry has nothing in common with Hiero's 
 generosity. They were, themselves, violent persecu- 
 tors at home, to the utmost of their power. Besides, 
 the Hugunots in France were not persecuted ; they 
 were really seditious, turbulent people, whom their 
 king was not able to reduce to obedience. The 
 French persecutions did not begin till sixty years 
 after. 
 
 " Your objection to the Irish massacre is just, but 
 falls not on the execution, but the subject. Had I 
 been to describe the massacre of Paris, I should not 
 have fallen into that fault. But, in the Irish mas- 
 sacre, no single eminent man fell, or by a remarkable 
 death. 1 If the elocution of the whole chapter be 
 blamable, it is because my conception laboured with 
 too great an idea of my subject, which is there the 
 most important. But that misfortune is not unusual. 
 I am," &c. 2 
 
 We shall have farther occasion to notice the deep 
 interest which Hume took in John Home's tragedy of 
 Douglas. The following letter, which is without date, 
 was, probably, written at the beginning of the year 
 1755, and before Home made his unsuccessful jour- 
 
 1 Sic in MS. 
 
 2 Lit. Gazette, 1822, p. 745. The original is in the MSS. 
 R.S.E.
 
 -Tvr. 4.1- tl. 
 
 HOME'S DOI'CILAS. 
 
 4 II) 
 
 ney to London, to submit his effort to the judgment 
 of Garrick. 
 
 II i mi-: (<> John Hh.mi:. 
 
 " I )kar Siu, W it li great pleasure I have more than 
 once perused your tragedy. It is interesting, attect- 
 ing, pathetic. The story is simple and natural; but 
 what chiefly delights me, is to lind the language so 
 pure, correct, and moderate. For (Jod's sake read 
 Shakspere, but get Kacine and Sophocles by heart. 
 It is reserved to you. and you alone, to redeem our 
 stage from the reproach of barbarism. 
 
 " I have not forgot your request to find fault : but 
 as you had neither numbered the pages nor the lines 
 in your copy. 1 cannot point out particular expres- 
 sions. I have marked the margin, and shall tell you 
 my opinion when 1 have the pleasure of seeing yon. 
 The more considerable objections seem to be these: 
 ( 'If. itfi/rmi \v character is too abandoned. Such a man 
 is scarce in nature: at least it is inartificial in a poet 
 to suppose such a one. as if he could not conduct his 
 fable by the ordinary passions, intirmities, and vices 
 of human nature. Lnr<l littnwt's ' character is not 
 enough decided; he hovers betwixt vice and virtue; 
 winch, though it be not unnatural, is not sufficiently 
 theatrical nor tragic. After Amm had lived eighteen 
 years with Ae<A/ liarnrt, and yet had been kept out 
 of the secret, there seems to be no suliicient reason 
 why. at that very time, she should have been let into 
 it. The spectator is apt to suspect that it was in order 
 to instruct him : ;i very good end, indeed, but which 
 might have been attained by a careful and artificial 
 conduct of the dialogue. 
 
 1 Tin- name c!i:iii. ! !" lini 1 '[>'>. :ifuT tlie first representation. 
 
 M.trkcnzir.
 
 420 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754-1755. 
 
 " There seem to be too many casual rencounters. 
 Young Forman 1 passing by chance, saves Lord Bar- 
 net ; Old Forman, passing that way, by chance, is 
 arrested. Why might not Young Forman be supposed 
 to be coming to the castle, in order to serve under 
 Lord Barnet, and Old Forman, having had some hint 
 of his intention, to have followed him that way? 
 
 [Some lines torn off and lost.] 
 
 Might not Anna be supposed to have returned to her 
 mistress after long absence ? This might account for 
 a greater flow of confidence." 2 
 
 1 Changed to Norval, before the tragedy was brought on the 
 .stage. Macken zie. 
 
 2 Mackenzie's Account of Home, p. 100. 
 
 The following paper made its first appearance in The Edinhurgh 
 Weekly Chronicle, a few years ago, when it was edited by Mr. 
 Hislop, a gentleman said to be well acquainted with theatrical 
 matters. It is here repeated, not as being believed, but because 
 having excited some attention when it first appeared, it found its 
 way into some books connected with Scottish literature. 
 
 " It may not be generally known, that the first rehearsal took 
 place in the lodgings in the Canongate, occupied by Mrs. Sarah 
 Warde, one of Digges's company; and that it was rehearsed by, and 
 in presence of the most distinguished literary characters Scotland 
 ever could boast of. The following was the cast of the piece on the 
 occasion : 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Lord Randolph, . . . Dr. Robertson, Principal, Edinburgh. 
 
 Glenalvon, .... David Hume, Historian. 
 
 Old Norval, .... Dr. Carlyle, Minister of Musselburgh. 
 
 Douglas, .... John Home, the Author. 
 
 Lady Randolph, . . . Dr. Ferguson, Professor. 
 
 Anna, (the Maid,) . . Dr. Blair, Minister, High Church. 
 
 " The audience that day, besides Mr. Diggcs, and Mrs. "Warde, 
 were, the Right Honourable Patrick Lord Elibauk, Lord Milton, 
 Lord Karnes, Lord Monboddo, (the two last were then only law- 
 yers,) the Rev. John Steele and William Home, ministers. The 
 company, all but Mrs. Warde, dined afterwards in the Erskine Club, 
 in the Abbey."
 
 .Ft. -1.5-44. HOMES DOUGLAS. 421 
 
 IIl'ME to ANDREW MlI.LAK. 
 
 " Kdiiihuryh, i'llli J>ui-\ IT."'"'. 
 
 " Dear Sir, I give you a grout many thanks for 
 thinking of me in your project of a weekly paper. 1 
 approve very much of the design, as you explain it 
 tome; and there is nobody I would more willingly 
 engage with. But as 1 have another work in hand, 
 which requires great labour and care to finish, 1 can- 
 not think of entering on a new undertaking, till I 
 have brought this to a conclusion. Your scheme 
 would require me immediately to remove to London ; 
 and J live here, at present, in great tranquillity, with 
 all my books around me; and 1 cannot thiuk of 
 changing while I have so great a work in hand as the 
 finishing of my 1 listory. 
 
 "There arc four short Dissertations, which I have 
 kept some years by me, in order to polish them as 
 much as possible. < me of them is that which Allan 
 Kamsay mentioned to you. Another, of the Passions; 
 a third, of Tragedy; a fourth, some Considerations 
 previous to Geometry and Natural Philosophy. 1 The 
 whole, I think, would make a volume, a fourth less 
 than my Inquiry, as nearly as I can calculate ; bu' 
 it would be proper to print it in a. larger type, in onh r 
 to bring it to the same size and price. 1 would have 
 
 The reader must take this statement at its own alue, which he 
 will iin hahly not eon.-ider hi_di. The " cast," has no pretension- to 
 he a transcript of anv contemporary document ; I'm- Dr. Kohert- u 
 was not then I'rir.cipal of the I'nivcr.-ity, I nit minister of the coun- 
 try pari-h of ( i lad-ni uir ; and Ferguson was not a I'rofes-or, ha; an 
 armv chaplain, with lease of absence, spending his time chiefly in 
 I'ertlishire. Lord Kanies, spoken of as " only'' a lawyer, had Keen 
 raised to the hench in 1 ?''>- , . 
 
 1 This last appears to have heen suppressed. The publication of 
 the other- is mentioned further on.
 
 422 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1755. 
 
 it published about the new year ; and I offer you the 
 property for fifty guineas, payable at the publication. 
 You may judge, by ray being so moderate in my 
 demands, that I do not propose to make any words 
 about the bargain. It would be more convenient for 
 me to print here, especially one of the Dissertations, 
 where there is a good deal of literature ; but, as the 
 manuscript is distinct and accurate, it would not be 
 impossible for me to correct it, though printed at 
 London. I leave it to your choice; though I believe 
 that it might be as cheaply and conveniently and 
 safely executed here. However, the matter is pretty 
 near indifferent to me. I would fain prognosticate 
 better than you say with regard to my History ; that 
 you expect little sale till the publication of the second 
 volume. I hope the prejudices will dissipate sooner. 
 I am," &c. * 
 
 In 1755, an effort was made to establish a periodi- 
 cal Review in Scotland, characterized by a higher 
 literary spirit, and a more original tone of thinking, 
 than the other periodical literature of the day could 
 boast. It assumed the name, so famous in later times, 
 of The Edinburgh Review. With such contributors as 
 Smith, Robertson, Blair, and Jardine, it could not fail 
 to achieve its object, so far as its own merit was con- 
 cerned ; but the public did not appreciate its excel- 
 lence, and it died after two half-yearly numbers, 
 which may now be found on the shelves of the curious. 
 On this matter, Mackenzie says, 
 
 David Hume was not among the number of the writers of 
 the Review, though we should have thought he would have 
 been the first person whose co-operation they would have 
 
 1 MS. li.S.E.
 
 .i;r. 11. 
 
 Khl.MU'KCII REVIEW 
 
 sought. But I think I have heard that they were afraid 
 
 '"'tli o| his extreme <; 1 nature, ami his extreme art- 
 
 lessiios ; that. t"i- -in the one, their criticisms, would have 
 been weakened or suppressed: and. from the other, their 
 secret discovered. The merits of the work strongly attracted 
 his attention, and he expre>sed his surprise, to some of the 
 gentlemen concerned in it. with whom he was daily in the 
 habit of meeting, at the excellence of a performance written, 
 as he presumed, from hi.s ignorance on the subject, by some 
 pei-soiis out of their own literary circle. It was agreed to 
 < 'Uiinunicate the secret to him at a dinner, which was shortly 
 alter Kiveii by one of their number. At that dinner he re- 
 peated his wonder on the subject of 77" Edinburgh I'cciiic. 
 One of the company said he knew the author-, and would 
 tell them to Mi-. Hume upon his <;i villi; an oath of secrecy. 
 How is the oath to be taken."" said David, witli his usual 
 pleasantry, ' of a man accused of so much scepticism as I 
 am You would not trust mv Bible oath ; but I will swear 
 by the to Y.a'/.v, and the r>. -:=tci never to reveal your secret." 
 He was then told the names of the authors and the plan of 
 the work ; but it was not continued Ion:; enough to allow of 
 his contributing an v articles. 1 
 
 It was a strung judgment to pass on a man who 
 filled the office of secretary of legation, and under- 
 secretary of state, that a secret was not safe in 
 his keeping. Perhaps 11 time had acquired absent 
 habits about trifles. But he could transact important 
 business with ability, and keep important secrets 
 with strictness. There is a general propensity to 
 find, in the nature and habits of abstruse thinkers, an 
 innocent simplicity about the passing affairs of the 
 world, which is often dispelled by a nearer view of 
 their characters. Hume was careless about small 
 matters ; but in the serious transactions of life, he wn> 
 sagacious,, prompt, and energetic. Though he did not 
 
 1 Account of John Hume, p. - 1.
 
 424 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 1754-1755. 
 
 contribute to it, he owed some substantial services 
 to this periodical, in the conflict in the ecclesiastical 
 courts, which, in the course of events, comes now to 
 be considered. 1 
 
 Hume was not one of those who, when they find that 
 the opinions they have formed are at variance with 
 those of the rest of mankind, blaze the unpopular por- 
 tions forth in the light of day, or fiing them in the face 
 of their adversaries. Among his intimate friends, 
 he could pass sly jests about his opinions ; using, in 
 regard to them, those strong expressions which lie 
 knew his adversaries would apply to them. But he 
 disliked ostentation of any kind, lie particularly 
 
 1 There is an amusing traditional anecdote, with which this 
 periodical has some connexion. Dr. Walter Anderson, minister 
 of Chirnside, having caught the fire of literary ambition, made the 
 remark to Hume, one afternoon when they had hcen enjoying the 
 hospitalities of Niuewells : " Sir. David, I daresay other people 
 might write boohs too ; but you clever fellows have taken up all 
 the good subjects. When I look about me, I cannot find one 
 unoccupied." "What would you think, Mr. Anderson," said 
 ilume, in reply, " of a History of Croesus, king of Lydia? This 
 has never yet been written." Dr. Anderson was a man who under- 
 stood no jesting, and held no words as uttered in vain ; so away he 
 goes, pulls down his Herodotus, and translates all the passages in 
 the first book relating to Croesus, with all the consultations of the 
 oracics, and all the dreams ; only interweaving with them, from his 
 own particular genius, some very sage and lengthy remarks on the 
 extent to which there was real truth in the prophetic revelations of 
 the Pythoness. This book, which is now a great rarity, was re- 
 viewed with much gravity and kindness in The Edinburgh Rericic. 
 It was more severely treated in The Critical Review, edited by 
 Smollett, where it is said, " There is still a race of soothsayers in 
 the Highlands, derived, if we may believe some curious antiquaries, 
 from the Druids and Bards that were set apart for the worship of 
 Apollo. The author of the History before us may, for aught we 
 know, be one of these venerable seers, though we rather take him 
 to be a Presbyterian teacher, who has been used to expound 
 apothegms that need no explanation."
 
 l-'J4i. ATTACK KD IN (IIL'KCII COURTS. 
 
 IJ." 
 
 oisliked the ostentation of singularity; and .-so little 
 was ho aware that he was outraging any of tlic world's 
 opinions, in promulgating the fruits of his meta- 
 physical speculations, that he appears to have heen 
 much astonished that any one should find in them any 
 ground for serious objection, and to have marvelled 
 greatly that clergymen and others should deem him an 
 unfit person to be a professor of moral philosophy, or 
 a teacher of youth. '" Kara temporum felicitas, ubi 
 sentire (pue velis, et qua) sentias dicere, licet," was the 
 motto of his first work; and he seems to have thought 
 that he lived in an age when speculation might soar 
 with undipped wings, and when his opinions would b i 
 (piestioned only before the tribunal of reason. 
 
 In all this, however, he now found that he was mis- 
 taken, and that there were persons who. professing to 
 have charge of these matters, and to know the final 
 judgment concerning them, thought right to execute it 
 on earth, by punishing the man whose opinions were 
 different from their own. The soul of this crusade was 
 a certain Keverend (Jeorge Anderson, a restless, fierv, 
 persevering being, probably of great polemical note in 
 his day, the observed of all observers as lie passed 
 through the city, a I'oanerges in church courts ; but 
 now only known through the eminence of those 
 against whom the fury of his zeal was directed. 
 11 nine was not the only object of pursuit. Other 
 game was started at the same time in the per- 
 son of his friend. Lord Karnes. It i-; somewhat 
 remarkable, that it was against the hitter that the 
 pursuit was most persevering and bitter. lie was 
 certainlv not ;i man likely to have provoked such 
 attacks. It is true that he meddled with dangerous 
 subjects, but he did so with great caution and skill. 
 Ired to the practice of the bar, at a time when the
 
 426 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1754-1755. 
 
 advocate often felt a temptation to insinuate doctrines 
 which could not be proclaimed without risk, he be- 
 came like a chemist who is expert in the safe mani- 
 pulation of detonating materials. Yet he made a 
 narrow escape ; for as he had been raised to the 
 bench in 1752, any proceeding by a church court, 
 professing to subject him to punishment, temporal or 
 eternal, however lightly it might have fallen on a 
 philosopher, might have tended materially to injure 
 the usefulness of a judge. 
 
 Karnes' work, which was published in 1751, and 
 entitled " Essays on the Principles of Morality and 
 Natural Religion," bears evident marks of having been 
 written in opposition to the opinions laid down by 
 Hume, although the author probably did not wish to 
 expose the works of his kind friend to odium, by mak- 
 ing a particular reference to them. It is clear that 
 he considered his own opinions likely to be so very 
 popular among the orthodox, that it would be doing 
 an evil turn to his friend, to mention him as the pro- 
 mulgator of views on the other side. In his adver- 
 tisement, he said, the object of his book was " to pre- 
 pare the way for a proof of the existence of the 
 Deity," and the Essays end with a prayer. Their 
 leading principle is, that according to the doctrine of 
 predestination, there can be no liberty to human beings, 
 in the ordinary acceptation of the term, while the 
 Deity has nevertheless, for wise purposes, which we 
 cannot fathom, implanted in our race the feeling that 
 we arc free. Some have held that, while the scheme 
 of predestination was exhibited by Hume as a mere 
 metaphysical theory, Karnes united it to vital religion. 
 He had the misfortune, however, to write in a philo- 
 sophical tone ; and those who constituted themselves 
 judges of the matter, seem to have taken example
 
 Aa. l.'Ml. ATTACKED IN CHURCH COURTS. 
 
 4^7 
 
 from the stern father, who, when there is a quarrel in 
 the nursery, punishes both sides, because quarrelling is 
 a thing not allowed in the house. In a letter to 
 Michael Ramsay, 1 1 nine says, in continuation of a 
 passage printed above. 1 "Have you seen our friend 
 Harry's Kssays ? They ure well wrote, and are an 
 unusual instance of an obliging method of answering 
 a book. Philosophers must judge of the question ; 
 but the clergy have already decided it, and say he is 
 as bad as me ' Nay. some affirm him to be worse. 
 as much as a treacherous friend is worse than an open 
 enemy." J )r. Blair is believed to have been the 
 champion of Karnes: and the following notice of his 
 connexion with the controversy, given by Mackenzie, 
 i> valuable and instructive. 
 
 It is ;i singular enough coincidence with some church 
 proceedings, about fifty years after," that Dr. Illair, in defence 
 of hi- friend's hlssays. expressly states, tliat one purpose of 
 those Iv-v-avs was to controvert what appeared to him to boa 
 very dangerous doctrine, held by the author of certain other 
 h\<-->h<. then recently published, (by Mr. David Hume. ) that, 
 by no principle in human nature, can we discover any real 
 connexion between ctu.-'i and t m f?i<'t. According to Dr. Blair. 
 the object of one () f Lord Kami's* Iv-says is to show, that 
 though such connexion is not discoverable by n<{&'/i< and by 
 a process of argumentative induetion. there is. nevertheless. 
 a real and obvious connexion, which every one intuitively 
 
 perceives between an (//'(7 and its C'tUtr. We feel and ae- 
 knowledge, that every ell'eci implies a can--'; that nothing 
 can lie-in to i xist without a can-'- of it- existence. \\ . 
 are not left." s.iys the author of the Vindication. to gather 
 our belief of a I), ////, from inferences and conclusions deduced 
 through intermediate Meps. many or few. II <v, unhappy 
 would it be. for the ";reat bulk of mankind, if ihi- were 
 necessary ! 
 
 1 Pa-,. :;iJ. MS. R.S.K. 
 
 2 The ea>e of Sir .J..lm l.e-lie. see above, v. s:>.
 
 428 THE LIFE OE DAVID HUME. 1755. 
 
 The first attack was made in a pamphlet, called 
 " An Estimate of the Profit and Loss of Religion, 
 personally and publicly stated : illustrated with refer- 
 ence to 'Essays on Morality and Natural Religion,'" 
 published at Edinburgh, in 1753 ; the work of Ander- 
 son himself, and endowed with all the marks of its 
 author. This was levelled against Karnes alone ; but 
 it was followed in 1755 by a pamphlet, in which, 
 under the name of Sopho, he was coupled with Hume, 
 thus: "An Analysis of the Moral and Religious Sen- 
 timents contained in the Writings of Sopho and David 
 Hume, Esq., addressed to the consideration of the 
 reverend and honourable members of the General 
 Assembly of the Church of Scotland." " My design," 
 says the author, " is to analyze the works of these 
 celebrated authors, giving their own expressions under 
 the different heads to which they seem to belong. 
 This method, I imagine, will not only give the clearest 
 view of the sentiments of these gentlemen, but is such 
 as they themselves must allow to be the most fair and 
 candid ; because if, in stating the proposition, I should 
 happen to mistake their meaning, their own words, 
 subjoined, must immediately do them justice." With 
 this preamble, the writer ranges his quotations under 
 such heads as, " All distinction betwixt virtue and vice 
 is merely imaginary ; " " Adultery is very lawful, but 
 sometimes not expedient," &c. 
 
 A counter pamphlet was published, called " Obser- 
 vations upon a pamphlet, entitled ' An Analysis of the 
 Moral and Religious Sentiments contained in the 
 Writings of Sopho and David Hume, Esq.'" 1 Jn 
 reference to his opponents' boasted series of accurate 
 quotations, the writer of this answer says, " If there 
 
 1 Attributed to Dr. Blair byTytler, (Life of Kames, i. 14 2,) as 
 well as by Mackenzie ; as on the preceding page.
 
 A-'.v. 11. ATI'ACKKI) IN CHURCH COl'IM'S. 
 
 4l!!) 
 
 should be found passages which arc noitlior tin 1 words 
 nor the meaning of the author, the falsehood cannot lie 
 palliated nor excused/' And then, after giving a spe- 
 cimen of these " accurate" quotation.?, he says, 
 
 l> In ;ill that pa<je there is no such sentence, neither is 
 there any such sentiment ti> be found. The pas-sain- from 
 the beginning is as follows/" \'c. and he continues: To 
 L^lean disunited sentences, to jcit ii them together arbi- 
 trarilv, to omit the limitation- or remarks with wliieh 
 a proposition i< delivered ; can this he styled exhibiting 
 tin' sentiment? of an author '. I hope 1 shall not he thought 
 to deviate into any tiling ludicrous, when 1 refer the reader 
 to a well-known treatise of the Dean of St. Patrick's, in which 
 tiie inquisitorial method of interpretation in tin; Church of 
 Rome is by so just ami so severe raillery rendered detestable. 
 Si nun totih-ui tn-iiteiitiis, k.< 'fiili-m fi-rhis ; ,-v nun totidvm 
 t-i-rhis, .<t tuti.1. ,a vjUabh ; si n<m tn'i.hni .--///A this </-i tutidtin 
 lit. ris. This is the genuine lo^ie of persecution." ' 
 
 The matter was brought before the immediately 
 ensuing (leneral Assembly, that of 17.35: by which 
 a general resolution was passed, expressive of the 
 < 'hurch's *" utmost abhorrence " of " impious and intiihd 
 principles," and of "the deepest concern on account of 
 the prevalence of infidelity and immorality, the prin- 
 
 1 Resides those mentioned above, the occasion seen is to h:ive called 
 forth some blasts of the trumpet, still better suited to split the ears 
 of the ^roundlintrs such as The Dei-t stretched on a Death-bed, 
 or a lively Portraiture of a Dvim,' Infidel." The contemporary 
 / . '// til. a /'// A\ r'n '/. which carried on a guerilla warfare on the -i,|e 
 i :' the threatened philosophers, thus commences a notice of this pro- 
 ion. "This is a nio-t extraordinary performance. The hero 
 of it h an infidel. ' a humorous youth,' as the author i! cribes him, 
 "a youth whose life was one successive scene of plea-antrv and 
 huniour : who laughed at revelation, and called religion /,//, .*t.,---f't 
 and i/t'iiiidi'i' : a irav and sprightly free-thinker. I'at yesterday,' 
 savs he ' thh ;:a v and sprightly free-thinker r. r. II. -I } i- u-ual r<.>uid 
 of Lrallantry and applause, till, satiated at length, he stairirered to 
 bed devoid of sense and reason.' We ~upp > e. (< mtinnes the re- 
 viewer.) the author's meaning' i-'. that he went to bed very drunk."'
 
 430 THE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. J7">. 
 
 ciples whereof have been, to the disgrace of our age 
 and nation, so openly avowed in several books pub- 
 lished of late in this country, and which are but too 
 well known amongst us." But this general anathema 
 was not sufficient to satisfy the pious zeal of Mr. 
 Anderson, who, in anticipation of the meeting of the 
 Assembly in 1756, wrote another pamphlet, called 
 " Infidelity a proper object of censure." 
 
 The initiatory step in the legislative business of 
 the General Assembly, is the bringing before it an 
 overture, which has previously obtained the sanction, 
 either of one of the inferior church courts, or of a 
 committee of the Assembly for preparing overtures. 
 In such a committee, it was moved on 28th May, 
 1 756, that the following overture should be transmit- 
 ted to the Assembly. 
 
 " The General Assembly, judging it their duty to do all in 
 their power to check the growth and progress of infidelity ; 
 and considering, that as infidel writings have begun of late 
 years to be published in this nation, against which they have 
 hitherto only testified in general, so there is one person 
 styling himself David Hume, Esq. who hath arrived at such 
 a degree of boldness as publicly to avow himself the author 
 of books containing the most rude and open attacks upon the 
 glorious gospel of Christ, and principles evidently subversive 
 even of natural religion, and the foundations of morality, if 
 not establishing direct atheism : therefore the Assembly 
 appoint the following persons ..... 
 
 as a committee to inquire into the writings of this author, to 
 call him before them, and prepare the matter for the next 
 General Assembly." 
 
 The matter w T as discussed with the usual keenness 
 of such debates in such bodies. But toleration was 
 triumphant, and the overture was rejected by fifty 
 votes to seventeen. 1 
 
 Still the indefatigable Anderson returned to the 
 1 Scots Magazine, 17-">G, pp. 248, 280, where those who are
 
 J/r. -14. ATTACKED IX CHURCH COURTS. 43] 
 
 charge, though ho brought it against humbler persons 
 in a less conspicuous arena. As lie found the authors 
 above his reach, ho resolved t< proceed against the 
 booksellers: and be brought before the Presbytery of 
 Edinburgh :i " Petition and Complaint" against 
 Alexander Kincaid and Alexander Donaldson, the 
 
 partial to such reading, will find a pretty clear abstract of the 
 debate. The Cieneral Assembly lia<l its. hands at that time pretty 
 full. A deadly dispute had arisen between the partisans of the eld 
 and new church music, which is thus described in Ritchie's Life 
 <>f 1 lunie, p. ,">7 : 
 
 "At this time the Scottish church was thrown into a general 
 ferment by an attempt to introduce the reformed music. In accom- 
 plishing tlii-. the most indecent scenes were exhibited. Tt was not 
 uncommon for a congregation to divide themselves into two parties 
 one of which, in chaunting the psalms, followed the old, and the 
 other the new mode of musical execution ; while the infidel, who 
 was not in tin' habit of frequenting the temple, now resorted to it. 
 not for the laudable ]>urpose of repentance and edification, but from 
 the ungodly motive of being a spectator of the contest 
 
 I hiring the present dispute, it was customary for the partisans of 
 the different kind.- of music to convene apart, in numerous bodies, 
 for the purpose of practising, and to muster their whole strength 
 11 the Sabbath. The moment the psalm was read from the pulpit. 
 each side, in general chorus, commenced their operations ; and as 
 the pa-tor ami clerk, or precentor, often diifered in their sentiments, 
 the church was immediately in an uproar. Blows and bruises were 
 interchanged by the impassioned songsters, and, in many parts of 
 the country, the most serious disturbances took place." 
 
 They had. at the same time, to conduct the war against the 
 tragedy of Douglas, and the frecpienters of the theatre. Home 
 himself, as i- well known, escaped the odium of ecclesiastical 
 punishment, by resigning his ministerial charge. Order was then 
 taken with those clerirv who could not resist being pre-ent on so 
 memorable an occasion a- the performance of a great national 
 trairedv. written l>v a member of their own body. Among these 
 the Rev. .Mr. White of Libherton was subjected to the modified 
 punishment of a month's su>peii-ion from oiiico, because ' he had 
 attended tin 1 representation only once, when he endeavoured to 
 conceal himself in a corner, to avoid giving offence.' S' ( \,(s Ma/. 
 for 1 ?:>;. ]. 17.
 
 432 TIIE LIFE 0F DAVID HUME. 175f. 
 
 publishers of "Karnes' Essays," praying, "that the 
 said printer and booksellers may be summoned to the 
 next meeting of the Presbytery, and there and then 
 to declare and give up the author of the said book ; 
 and that he and they may be censured, according to 
 the law of the gospel, and the practice of this and all 
 other well-governed churches." Anderson indeed would 
 seem to have imbibed the spirit of the great Anthony 
 Arnauld: who, when Nicole spoke of some rest from 
 the endless war of polemical controversy, exclaimed, 
 " Rest ! will you not have enough of rest hereafter, 
 through all eternity?" Before the Presbytery could 
 meet he accordingly published another pamphlet, 
 called " the Complaint of George Anderson, minister 
 of the gospel, verified by passages in the book libelled." 
 He died in the 19th October, 1 just ten days before the 
 meeting of the presbytery, for which he had made 
 such active preparation. He fell in harness, and the 
 departure of the restless spirit of the champion from 
 its tenement of clay, was death to the cause. After 
 the perusal of written pleadings, and a formal debate, 
 the complaint was dismissed. 
 
 This matter appears to have given Hume very little 
 disturbance. He does not mention it in his " own 
 life." He laboured uninterruptedly at the second 
 volume of his History ; and his correspondence, which 
 we may now resume, will be found to pursue its even 
 tenor, taking no farther notice of the proceedings of 
 his opponents, than the simple question put to Smith, 
 whether it will be a matter of much consequence if 
 he should be excommunicated? 
 
 1 Ritchie .says, (p. 79,) that he was in his eightieth year. One 
 is tempted to say with Lady Machcth, " Who would have thought 
 the old man had so much blood in him." Besides these conflicts 
 in Scotland, he was conducting a war in England against Mallet, 
 for the publication of Bolinsjbrohe's works.
 
 -Ki. -k 
 
 iamiliak lkttkrs. 
 
 t.-;:: 
 
 IIl.'MK in I )U. ClKPHANE. 
 
 " EJinhtnyh, 20t/i April, lTofi. 
 
 "Dkar Doctor, There is certainly notliintj so 
 
 unaccountable as my long silence with you ; that is, 
 with a man whose friendship I desire most to preserve 
 of any I know, and whose conversation I would be 
 the most covetous to enjoy, were I in the same place 
 with him. Hut to tell the truth, we people in the 
 country, (for such you Londoners esteem our city,) 
 are apt to be troublesome to you people in town ; we 
 are vastly glad to receive letters which convey intel- 
 ligence to us of things which we should otherwise 
 have been ignorant of, and can pay them back with 
 nothing but provincial stories, which are no way in- 
 teresting. It was perhaps an apprehension of this 
 kind which held my pen : but really, I believe, the 
 truth is, when I was idle, I was lazy when I was 
 busy. I was so extremely busy, that 1 had no leisure 
 to think of any thing else. For, dear Doctor, what 
 have we to do with news on either side, unless it be 
 literary news, which I hope will always interest us ? 
 and of these, London seems to me as barren as 
 Fdinburgh : or rather more so, since I can tell you that 
 our friend Hume's ' Douglas/ is altered and finished, 
 and will be brought out on the stage next winter, and 
 is a singular, as well as fine performance, [ 
 of the spirit of the Knglish theatre, not devoid of Attio 
 and French elegance. ^ on have sent us nothing worth 
 reading this winter : even your vein of wretched novels 
 is dried up, though not that of scurrilous partial 
 politic-. We hear of Sir lleorge Lyttleton's History, 
 from which the populace expect a great deal : but I 
 
 Won] 
 
 vol. I. 
 
 2 v
 
 434 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1756. 
 
 hear it is to be three quarto volumes. ' O, magnum 
 horribilem et sacrum Libellum.' This last epithet of 
 sacrum will probably be applicable to it in more senses 
 than one. However, it cannot well fail to be readable, 
 which is a great deal for an English book now-a-days. 
 " But, dear Doctor, even places more hyperborean 
 than this, more provincial, more uncultivated, and 
 more barbarous, may furnish articles for a literary 
 correspondence. Have you seen the second volume 
 of Black well's ' Court of Augustus?' I had it some 
 days lying on my table, and, on turning it over, met 
 with passages very singular for their ridicule and 
 absurdity. He says that Mark Antony, travelling 
 from Rome in a post-chaise, lay the first night at 
 Redstones : I own I did not think this a very classi- 
 cal name ; but, on recollection, I found, by the Phi- 
 lippics, that he lay at Saxa Rubra. He talks also of 
 Mark Antony's favourite poet, Mr. Gosling, meaning 
 Anser, who, methinks, should rather be called Mr. 
 Goose. He also takes notice of Virgil's distinguish- 
 ing himself, in his youth, by his epigram on Cross- 
 bow the robber ! Look your Virgil, you'll find that, 
 like other robbers, this man bore various names. 
 Crossbow is the name he took at Aberdeen, but Ba- 
 lista at Rome. The book has many other flowers x 
 
 1 That such flowers were not confined to Aberdeen, may be seen 
 in the following passage of the " Carpentariana." 
 
 "Si l'on vouloit traduire les noms Grecs et Romains en Francois, 
 on les ren droit souvent ridicules. J'ai vu une traduction des 
 epitres de Ciceron aAtticus, imprirnee chez Thiboust, en 1666, pag. 
 217, oil 1'auteur est tombe dans cettc faute ridicule, en traduisant 
 cot endroit : Pridie autem apud me Crassipes fuerat, Le jour pre- 
 cedent Gros-pied fut chez moi. Veritablement Crassipes, vent dire 
 Gros-pied, rnais il est ridicule de la traduire ainsi: et il nc faut 
 Jamais toucher aux noms proprcs, soit qu'ils fassent un bon on 
 niauvais erl'et, rendua dans notre languc. Un autre traducteur des
 
 A'a. 1.;. FAMILIAR LETTERS. J;;;, 
 
 of a like nature, which made me exclaim, with regard 
 
 to the author, 
 
 Xec <; )> ' ajijmret . . . utruin 
 Minxerit in patriot; cinercs, an tri.-to Indental 
 Moverit inccrttus. Certe furit. 
 
 Jiut other people, who have read through the 
 volume, say that, notwithstanding these absurdi- 
 ties, it does not want merit; and, if it he so, 1 own 
 the ease is .still more singular. What would you 
 think of a man who should speak of the mayorality 
 of M r. Veitch ; meaning the consulship of Cicero '. 
 Is not this a tine way of avoiding the imputation of 
 pedantry ? Perhaps Cicero, to modernize him entirely, 
 should be called Sir Mark Veitch, because his father 
 was a Roman knight. 
 
 " J do not find your name among the subscribers of 
 my friend IJlaeklock's poems, you have forgot; buy a 
 copy of them and read them, they are many of them 
 very elegant, and merit esteem, if they came from any 
 one, but are admirable from him. 2 ] Spence's 
 
 industry in so good a work, but there is a circum- 
 stance of his conduct that will entertain you. In the 
 Edinburgh edition there was a stanza to this effect : 
 
 The wise in every aire conclude, 
 What Pyrrho taught ami Hume renewed, 
 That Dogmatists are fools. 
 
 " Mr. Spcnce would not undertake to promote a 
 Loudon subscription, unless my name, as well as Lord 
 Shaftesbury's, (who was mentioned in another [dace.) 
 were erased : tin.' author frankly gave up Shaftesbury, 
 but said that lie would forfeit all the profit he might 
 
 e| dt res ite ('in run, lui fait dire, Madenxii.-elle votre lille, .Madame 
 vutre femme ; et je me soiiviens d'un auteur < | n i appellnit 
 lirutu? et Collatinus, les IVmrgmcttres de la villi- de Koine. 
 1 Satis. - Words obliterated.
 
 436 THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. 1756. 
 
 expect from a subscription, rather than relinquish the 
 small tribute of praise which he had paid to a man 
 whom he was more indebted to than to all the world 
 beside. I heard by chance of this controversy, and 
 wrote to Mr. Spence, that, without farther consulting 
 the author, I, who was chiefly concerned, would take 
 upon me to empower him to alter the stanza where I 
 was mentioned. He did so, and farther, having pre- 
 fixed the life of the author, he took occasion to men- 
 tion some people to whom lie had been obliged, but is 
 careful not to name me ; judging rightly that such 
 good deeds were only splendida peccata, and that 
 till they were sanctified by the grace of God they 
 would be of no benefit to salvation. 1 
 
 " I have seen (but, I thank God, was not bound to 
 read) Dr. [Birch's] ' History of the Royal Society.' 
 Pray make my compliments to him, and tell him, that 
 I am his most obliged humble servant. I hope you 
 understand that the last clause was spoken ironically. 
 You would have surprised him very much had you 
 executed the compliment. I shall conclude this 
 article of literature by mentioning myself. I have 
 finished the second volume of my History, and have 
 maintained the same unbounded liberty in my poli- 
 tics which gave so much offence : religion lay more 
 out of my way ; and there will not be . . . 2 in this par- 
 ticular : I think reason, and even some eloquence, are 
 on my side, and . . . will, I am confident, get the better 
 of faction and folly, which are the . . . 2 least 
 they never continue long in the same shape. I am 
 sorry, however, that you speak nothing on this head 
 in your postscript to me. 
 
 1 See above p. 393. 
 
 2 Words obliterated by decay of the MS.
 
 .-111. 4o. 
 
 FAMILIAR LKTTKRS. 
 
 437 
 
 " It gives me great affliction, dear Doctor, when you 
 speak of gouts ami old age, Ala.s ! you are going 
 down hill, and 1 am tumbling fast after you. 1 have, 
 however, very entire health, notwithstanding my 
 studious .sedentary life. I only grow fat more than 
 I could wish. When shall 1 see you (*od knows. 
 1 am settled here ; have no pretensions, nor hopes, 
 nor desires, to carry me to court the great. 1 
 live frugally on a small fortune, which 1 care not to 
 dissipate by jaunts of pleasure. All these circum- 
 stances give me little prospect of seeing London. 
 W ere I to change my habitation. 1 would retire to 
 some provincial town in France, to trifle out my old 
 age, near a warm sun in a good climate, a ] leasant 
 countn, ana amidst a sociable people. My stock 
 would then maintain me in some opulence: for I 
 have the satisfaction to tell ;o:i. dear I >ocLor. that on 
 reviewing in} a Hairs, I Mad :l:at 1 am worth Clo'lM) 
 sterling, which, at live per cent, makes near lM)0 
 livres a-year that is, the pay of two 1'" reach captains. 
 
 " Kdnionstone left this town for Ireland. 1 wish he 
 were out of the way : he has no prospect of advance- 
 ment suitable to his merit. Sir Harry, 1 hope, has 
 only run backwards to make a better jump. Pray 
 imitate not my example delay not to write': or. if 
 you do, I will imitate yours, and write again without 
 waiting for an answer. Kver most sincerely." 
 
 ( )r'e: in:il :il Kilr;i\ < irk.
 
 V P V E \ I) 1 X.
 
 APi'KXMX A. 
 
 IHAl.M UN ! '- .i!' A CA ! : : |< IN :|['\||;'. || A.'.'IUVKI i IN'!. IM>i KIIUM) 
 
 iiii: iu:mi:m' h.n uii: cmasi or hkitta.ny. in l?4(>, 
 a.n ii tiii: iai rsi:s or its iaii.i i< ::.' 
 
 'I'm. forces iiinler Lieutenant ( !enera! St. < 'lair consisted i.f live bat- 
 talion.-, viz. tlic ih>t hat tali' n of tlie l.-i ll.-val. the oh I !Ldi landers, 
 .'id Bra;:'-. 1th KichheH'-. _\1 1 Ian i- n'-. together with part of Fiamp- 
 toii's, and -mm' companies of .Maiine-, makim: in all about 4.~>l'0 
 men. The Ihet c<.n-i-ted of . 'i'lioiiirh this army 
 
 and tli-i't had hern at lir.-! litted out for eiiterii _- ti|m action in 
 f-umnier l?-M>. and makin_' conoi.e-: of Canada, ii \va> found, after 
 se\ era! vain etl'urts to ir > '. out of the Chamii'l, first under Commodore 
 Cotes, then uinh r Admiral l.isioek, that so much time had heen 
 unavoidably lo-t, from contrary wind- and coiit rarv orders, as to 
 render it danueioii> for -o iaii r e a hodv of .-hip-' to proceed tint!. or. 
 The middle oi Mav wa- the la-t dav of rendezvous appointed at 
 .-pithead ; and in the latter end of August, the lleet had vet i_ r "! 
 no farther than St. Helen's, aiioat a league behw it. It is an 
 observation, that in the latter end of autumn, or hcednnine; of 
 winter, the north-w e.-t wind- hlow so furioii.dv on the coa.-t of 
 North America, a- to render it alv, av dillicuit, and often impe.-- 
 sihle, for -hips that .-el out late to reach any harbour in tho.-e part . 
 
 ill-taiieo- haM: been found of \e el.- that have been obliged to lake 
 shelter fr. Ill the e -Jorill-, e\ ell ill the Leeward I l;::,d -. It wa- 
 
 therefore become u ;" ;irv |.. abandon all theii-hi- f preceediuu' to 
 America thai ea.-"ii ; and a- the I ran-port- w ere fitted out and 
 tit et eip lipped at .real e\| n e. an all en.pt v. a- ha i d v made t,> 
 
 tin u then 1 to -..n.e ace. .i.i iii I'. . ; . i .i . d , . . : ._ tin i: ill remainder 
 of tiie summer. The ill ire - of ii.,' allie- in I'landei- demanded 
 the mole iiun.i .iat< at . en ! the 111 _ li.-h nation and m.n:-trv.
 
 442 APPENDIX. 
 
 and required, if possible, some speedy remedy. 'Twas too late to 
 think of sending the six battalions under General St. Clair, to re- 
 inforce Prince Charles of Lorraine, who commanded the armies of 
 the allies; and their number was, besides, too inconsiderable to 
 hope for any great advantages from that expedient. 'Twas more 
 to be expected, that falling on the parts of France, supposed to be 
 defenceless and disarmed, they might make a diversion, and occa- 
 sion the sending a considerable detachment from the enemy's army 
 in Flanders. But as time pressed, and allowed not leisure to con- 
 cert and prepare this measure, the Duke of Newcastle, Secretary 
 of State, hoped to find that General St. Clair had already planned 
 and projected some enterprise of this nature. He formed this 
 presumption on a hint which had been started very casually, and 
 which had been immediately dropped by the General. 
 
 In the spring, when the obstructions and delays thrown in the 
 way of the American enterprise were partly felt and partly fore- 
 seen, the Secretary, lamenting the great and, he feared, useless 
 expense to which the nation had been put by that undertaking, 
 gave occasion to the General to throw out a thought, which would 
 naturally occur in such a situation. He said, " Why may you not 
 send the squadron and troops to some part of the coast of Franco, 
 and at least frighten and alarm them as they have done us ; and, 
 as all their troops are on the Flanders and German frontiers, 'tis 
 most probable that such an alarm may make them recall some of 
 them ? " The subject was then no farther prosecuted ; but the 
 King, being informed of this casual hint of the General's, asked him 
 if he had formed any plan or project by which the service above- 
 mentioned might be effectuated, lie assured his majesty that he 
 had never so much as thought of it ; but that, if it was his pleasure, 
 lie would confer with Sir John Ligonicr, and endeavour to find 
 other people in London who could let him into some knowledge of 
 the coast of France. To this the King rejdied, " No, no ; you 
 need not give yourself any trouble about it." And accordingly 
 the General never more thought of it, farther than to inform the 
 Duke of Newcastle of this conference with his majesty. However, 
 the Duke being willing that the person who was to execute the 
 undertaking should also be the projector of it, by which means 
 both greater success might be hoped from it, and every body else 
 be screened from reflection in case of its miscarriage, desired, in his 
 letter of the 22d of August, that both the Admiral and General 
 should give their opinion of such an invasion; and particularly the 
 General, who, having, he said, formed some time ago a project of 
 flii.-, nature, might be the better prepared to give his thoughts with
 
 DKsi i.nt on iim: coast of France. .}:; 
 
 regard to it. They both jointly replied, that their utter ignorance 
 niutli' them incapable of delivering their sentiments; tm so delicate a 
 subject; and the General, in a separate letter, recalled to tho 
 Duke's ineiiiory the circumstances of the story, as above related. 
 
 Though tliev declined proposing a project, they both cheerfully 
 offered, that if his majesty would honour them with any plan of 
 operation for a descent, they would do their best i > carry it into 
 execution. They hoped that the Secretary of Stale, who. by hi- 
 otlice, i- led to turn his eve- everv whore, ami who lives at London, 
 the centre of commerce and intelligence, could better form and 
 digest -uch a plan, than tliev who were cooped up in their ships, 
 in a remote -ea-port town, without anv former acquaintance with 
 the coast of France, and without anv possibility of acquiring new 
 know ledge. Tiny at least hoped, that so difficult a task would not 
 be required of them as either to give their -entiments without anv 
 materials atlbrded them to judge upon, or to collect materials, while 
 the most inviolable secrecy was strictlv enjoined on them. It i- re- 
 markable, that the Duke of Xewcn-tle, among other advantages 
 proposed bv this expedition, mention, tin' l: i v in '_: as-istanee to such 
 Protestants a- are already in arm-, or maybe di-po-ed to rise on 
 the appearance of the F.ngli.-h, as if we were living in the time of 
 the League, or during tic confu ion of Francis the Second's 
 inim u'itv. 
 
 Full of the-e rejections, they .-ail'd from St. Helens on the 
 god of August, and arrived at I'lvm iiuli on the g'uh, in obedience 
 to their orders, which required them to put into thai harbour for 
 farther instructions. They there found positive orders to -ail 
 immediately, with tin; first fair wind, to the coast of France, and 
 make an attempt on L< bvient, or Ilochefort, or Roclclle, or sail up 
 the river of Dourdoaux ; or, if they judged anv of these enterprises 
 impracticable, to sail to whatever other place on the western coast 
 thi'v -hoiil'l think proper. Such unbounded discretionary powers 
 could not but be agii i able to commanders, hail it been accompanied 
 with better, or indeed with anv intelligence. As the wind was 
 then contrary, they had lei-tire to reply in their letter-- of the g!>th 
 and 'ilUli. They jointlv represented the dillieultii--, or rather 
 impo--ib;litie -. of an v att'iii]'" on L'Orient, Koclcfort, and Ivoch- 
 elle. bv reason of the real strength of the-e places, -" far ;i- their 
 imperfect information cu'id roach; or, if that were erroneous, by 
 
 tb-olute wan! o| intelli 
 
 aiides. and 
 
 pilot: - w Inch are the -"ul I all military i i rat cu- . 
 
 The (Jeneral, in a -eparate letter, enforced the -ame topics, an 
 . elded many other reflection, of moment, lie said, that of all th
 
 444 APPENDIX. 
 
 places mentioned in his orders, Bourdeaux, if accessible, appeared 
 to him the properest to be attempted ; both as it is one of the towns 
 of greatest commerce and riches in France, and as it is the farthest 
 situated from their Flanders' army, and on these accounts an 
 attack on it would most probably produce the wished-for alarm 
 and diversion. lie added, that he himself knew the town to be of 
 no strength, and that the only place there capable of making any 
 defence, is Chateau Trompette, which serves it as a citadel, and 
 was intended, as almost all citadels are, more as a curb, than a 
 defence, on tho inhabitants. But though these circumstances pro- 
 mised some success, he observed that there were many other diffi- 
 culties to struggle with, which threw a mighty damp on these 
 promising expectations. Tn the first place, he much questioned if 
 there was in the fleet any one person who had been ashore on the 
 western coast of France, except himself, who was once at Bour- 
 deaux ; and he, too, was a stranger to all the country betwixt the 
 town and the sea. Tie had no single map of any part of Fiance 
 on board with him ; and what intelligence he may be able to force 
 from the people of the country can be but little to be depended on, 
 as it must be their interest to mislead him. And if money prove 
 necessary, either for obtaining intelligence, carrying on of works, 
 or even subsisting the officers, he must raise it in the country; for, 
 except a few chests of Mexican dollars, consigned to other uses, he 
 carried no money with him. If he advanced any where into the 
 country, he must be at a very great loss for want of horses to draw 
 the artillery ; as the inhabitants will undoubtedly carry off as many 
 of them as they could, and he had neither hussars nor dragoons to 
 force them back again. And as to the preserving any conquests he 
 might make, (of which the Duke had dropped some hints,) he 
 observed that every place which was not impregnable to him, with 
 such small force, must bo untenable by him. Ou the whole, he 
 engaged for nothing but obedience; he promised no success; he 
 professed absolute ignorance with regard to every circumstance of 
 the undertaking; he even could not iix on any particular under- 
 taking ; and yet he lay under positive orders to sail with the first 
 fair wind, to approach the unknown coast, march through the un- 
 known country, and attack the unknown cities of the most potent 
 nation of the universe. 
 
 Meanwhile, Admiral Anson, who had put into Plymouth, and 
 had been detained there by the same contrary winds, which still 
 prevailed, had a conversation with the General and Admiral on the 
 subject of their enterprise. He told them, that he remembered to 
 have once casually heard from Mr. Hume, member for Southwark,
 
 DESCENT (i.N III I : C>)AST OF FRANCE. 44; 
 
 that lie had been at L'< )rient. and that, though it be very .strung by 
 si-a.it is ii.it - by land. Though Mr. 1 1 ume, the gentleman 
 mentioned, be I red to ;i inercautile profession, not to war. and 
 though the intelligence received from him was unlv casual, im- 
 perfect, ami by second-hand, yet it gave pleasure to th.- Admiral and 
 (ieneral, as it afforded them a faint glimmering ravin their present 
 .ili-cni-ity and ignorance ; and they accordingly resolved to follow it. 
 They u rote to the I >uke ,,f Now castle, September the :$d, that 'twas 
 t" !.'( >rient they intended to bend their coiir.-e, a- -non a- the wind 
 offered. 'I'., ronie.lv tin- ignorance of the coast and want of pilots, 
 a- far- as po--ible, Commodore Cotes in the Uuby, together with 
 Captain Stewart in the Hustings, ami a -loop and tender, was 
 immediately despatched by the Admiral to view Port I/Orient 
 and all the places near it, so far as might regard the safe approach 
 and anchorage of the ships. The ignorance of the country, and 
 want of guides, was a desperate evil, for which the (ieneral could 
 provide no remedy. I>ut as the wind still continued contrary to 
 the licet and transports, though single ships of war might work 
 their wav against it. the (ieneral had occasion to see farther alter- 
 ation- mad.- by the ministry in their project of an invasion. 
 
 The Duke of Newcastle, who hail before informed the (ieneral 
 that, it' he could establish himself on any part of the coast of 
 I' ranee, two battalion- of the (iuurds, and (ieneral I luske's regi- 
 ment, should be despatched after him, now says, (Sept. .'>.) that 
 these three battalion- have got immediate orders to follow him. Ilo 
 farther add-, that if the ( ieneral lind- it impracticable to make any 
 descent on the coast of J Irittanv, or higher up in the I lay of I >i-ca v, 
 he would probably find, on his return, some intelligence sent him, 
 by the reinforcement, with regard to the coast of Normandy. Next 
 day the Duke changes his mind, and send- immediately this intel- 
 ligence with regard to the coast of Normandy, and a plan for annoy- 
 ing the French on that i|uarter, proposed by Major Maedoiiahl ; and 
 to this plan he seems entirely to give the preference to the 
 other, of making an attempt on the western coast of Franco, 
 to which he had before confined the Admiral and (ieneral. They 
 considered the plan and coiiver-ed with Major Macdouald. who 
 came down to I'lvnioiith a few day- after. Thev found that this 
 plan had been given in -ome year- before, and \va> not in the least 
 calculated for the pre-eut expedition, but re.piin-d a 1" dv of cavalry 
 as an essential point toward- it- execution : an advantage of which 
 the (ieneral was entirely destitute. They found that Major Mac- 
 douald had had -o few opportunities of impi >v ing him-elf in the 
 art of war, that it would be dangei'oti-, without farther information,
 
 446 APPENDIX. 
 
 to follow his plan in any military operations. They found that he 
 pretended only to know the strength of the town, and nature of 
 the country, in that province, hut had never acquainted himself 
 with the sea-coast, or pitched upon any proper place for disembar- 
 kation. They considered that a very considerable step had been 
 already taken towards the execution of the other project on the 
 coast of Brittany, viz. the sending Commodore Cotes to inspect and 
 sound the coast ; and that the same step must now be taken anew, 
 in so late a season, with regard to the coast of Normandy. They 
 thought that, if their whole operations were to begin, an attempt 
 on the western coast was preferable, chiefly because of its remote- 
 ness from the Flanders' army, which must increase and spread the 
 alarm, if the country were really so defenceless as was believed. 
 They represented all those reasons to the Secretary ; but at the 
 same time expressed their intentions of remaining at Plymouth till 
 they should receive his majesty's positive orders with regard to the 
 enterprise on which they were to engage. 
 
 The Duke immediately despatched a messenger, with full powers 
 to them to go whithersoever they pleased. During this interval, 
 the General was obliged, to his great regret, to remain in a manner 
 wholly inactive. Plymouth was so remote a place, that it was not 
 to be expected he could there get any proper intelligence. He was 
 bound up by his orders to such inviolable secrecy, that he could not 
 make any inquiries for it, or scarce receive it, if offered. The 
 Secretary had sent Major Macdonald, and one Cooke, captain of a 
 privateer, who, 'twas found, could be of no manner of service in 
 this undertaking. These, he said, were the only persons he could 
 find in London that pretended to know any thing of the coast of 
 France, as if the question had been with regard to the coast of 
 Japan or of California. The General desired to have maps of 
 France, chiefly of Gascony and Brittany. He receives only a map 
 of Gascony, together with one of Normandy. No map of Brittany ; 
 none of France ; he is obliged to set out on so important an enter- 
 prise without intelligence, without pilots, without guides, without 
 any map of the country to which he was bound, except a common 
 map, on a small scale, of the kingdom of France, which his Aid- 
 de-camp had been able to pick up in a shop at Plymouth. He 
 represented all these difficulties to the ministry ; he begged them 
 not to flatter themselves with any success from a General who had 
 such obstacles to surmount, and who must leave his conduct to the 
 government of chance more than prudence. He was answered, 
 that nothing was expected of him, but to land any where he pleased 
 in France, to produce an alarm, and to return safe, with the fleet
 
 DESCENT ON THE COAST OF ERANCE. 417 
 
 and transports, to the British dominions. Though he was sensible 
 that uk. it wouhl ho expected by tho people, yet ho cheerfully 
 despised their ra.-h judgments, while ho acted in obedience to 
 orders, and in the prosecution of his duty. The licet sailed from 
 Plymouth on the l/ith of September, and. after a short voyage of 
 three days, arrived, in the evening of the lSth, oil' the island of 
 < iroa, where they found ( 'ommodore ( 'otes and ( 'upturn Stuart, who 
 gave them an account of the success which they had met with in the 
 survey of the coa.-t near E'Oricnt. The place they had pitched on 
 for landing, was ten miles fro in that town, at the mouth ol the 
 river of Quimperlav. They represented it as a llat open shore, 
 with deep water: on these accounts a good landing-place for the 
 troops, hut a dangerous place for the ships to ride in, on account of 
 the rocks with which it was every where surrounded, and the high 
 swell which was thrown in, from the Hay of Biscay, by the west 
 and suuth-w est wind.-. 
 
 It was then about eight in the evening, a full moon and a clear 
 sky, with a gentle breeze blowing in shore. The <|ue.-tion was, 
 whether to sail directly to the landing-place, or hold oil' till morn- 
 ing. The two otlicers who had surveyed the coast were divided in 
 opinion : one recommended the former measure, the other suggested 
 -eiiie scruples, by representing the dangerous reek- that lay on 
 everv side of them, and the ignorance of all the pilots with regard 
 to their number and situation. The Admiral was determined, hv 
 the-e iva-oiis, to agree to this opinion. The tpio.-tioii seemed little 
 important, as it regarded only a short delay; but really w a- of the 
 utmost con -e.jiienee. and wa-, indeed, the spring whence all the ill 
 siicci >s in this expedition llowed. 
 
 The great age of Admiral Ei-tock, as it increa-od hi- experience, 
 should make us caution.- of cen.-uring his opinion in .-ca atlair.-, 
 where he was allowed to have such consummate knowledge. Hut 
 at the same time, it may beget a suspicion, that being now in the 
 decline of life, he was thence naturally inclined rather to the pru- 
 dent counsel.- which suit a concerted enterpri-o, than to the hold 
 temerity which belongs to such ha-tv and blind undertakings. 
 The unhappy eou.-oijucuee- of tin- ovcr-eaut ious measure imme- 
 diately appeared. The Admiral had laid hi- account, that by a 
 delay, winch procured a greater -ai'etv to the licet ami transport-, 
 only four or ti\ e hours would he lo-t ; hut the wind changing in 
 the morning, and bh>w ing lie-h otl' shore, all m-xl day, and part of 
 next night, was -pent before the ship- could reach the landing- 
 place. Some of them were not able to reach it till two day.- after. 
 I luring tin- time, the tleet lav full in view of the Coa.-t. and pre-
 
 448 APPENDIX. 
 
 parations were making in Port Louis, L'Orient, and over the whole 
 country, for the reception of an enemy, who threatened them with 
 so unexpected an invasion. 
 
 The force of France, either for offence or defence, consists chiefly 
 m three different bodies of men : first, in a numerous veteran army, 
 which was then entirely employed in Italy and on their frontiers, 
 except some shattered regiments, which w r ere dispersed about the 
 country, for the advantage of recruiting, and of which there were 
 two regiments of dragoons at that time in Brittany ; secondly, in 
 a regular and disciplined militia, with which all the fortified cities 
 along the sea-coast were garrisoned, and many of the frontier 
 towns, that seemed not to be threatened with any immediate 
 attack. Some bodies of this militia had also been employed in the 
 field with the regular troops, and had acquired honour, which gave 
 spirits and courage to the rest : thirdly, in a numerous body of 
 coast militia, or gardes-du-cote, amounting to near 200,000, ill 
 armed and ill disciplined, formidable alone by their numbers; and 
 in Brittany, by the ferocity of the inhabitants, esteemed of old 
 and at present, the most warlike and least civilized of all the French 
 peasants. Regular signals were concerted for the assembling of 
 these forces, by alarm guns, flags, and fires ; and in the morning of 
 the 20th of September, by break of day, a considerable body of all 
 these different kinds of troops, but chiefly of the last, amounting to 
 above 3000 men, were seen upon the sea-shore to oppose the dis- 
 embarkation of the British forces. A disposition, therefore, of 
 ships and boats must be made for the regular landing of the army ; 
 and as the weather was then very blustering, and the wind blew 
 almost off shore, this could not be effected till afternoon. 
 
 There appeared, in view of the fleet, three places which seemed 
 proper for a disembarkation, and which were separated from each 
 other either by a rising ground, or by a small arm of the sea. The 
 French militia had posted themselves in the two places which lay 
 nearest to L'Orient; and finding that they were not numerous 
 enough to cover the whole, they left the third, which lay to the 
 windward, almost wholly defenceless. The General ordered the 
 boats to rendezvous opposite to this beach ; and he saw the French 
 troops march off from the next contiguous landing-place, and take 
 post opposite to him. They placed themselves behind some sand- 
 banks, in such a manner as to be entirely sheltered from the cannon 
 of those English ships which covered the landing, while at the 
 same time they could rush in upon the troops, as soon as their 
 approach to the shore had obliged the ships to leave off firing. 
 
 The General remarked their plan of defence, ami was determined
 
 DESCKNT OX Till: (OAST OF FKAXCK. 411) 
 
 to di>appuint thrin. II. > observed, that the m-xt l:iiitliii^r-|laco to 
 tin* leeward was now empty; and that, though tlie troops which 
 had heen posted on the in.. re di.-tant heaeh had i|uitted their station, 
 and were niakin_' a circuit round an arm <<( the -.a. in order to 
 occupy the place deserted by the others, they had not a- yet readied 
 it. lie immediately seized the opportunity, lie ordered his boats 
 to row directly forward, a- if he intended to land on the beach 
 opposite to him ; but while the enemy were expecting him to ad- 
 vance, he ordered the boats to turn, at a signal ; and. making all 
 the -peed that both oar.s and .-ail- could give them, to steer directly 
 to the place deserted by the enemy. In order to render the disem- 
 harkatioii more safe, he had previously ordered two tender- to attack 
 a battery, which had been placed una mount toward- the right, and 
 which was well .situated for annoying the boats on their approach. 
 The tender- succeeded in chasinir the French from their guns; the 
 boats reached the shore before anvofthe French could be opposite tu 
 them. Tlie soldiers landed, to the number of about six hundred im-ii, 
 and formed in an in.-tant ; immediately upon which the whole 
 militia di-per.-ed and lied up into the country. The F.n_'li-h followed 
 tlii'in regularly and in i-Mod order; pr.'Lruo-ticatiii:.' siicce-s to the 
 eiiterpri-e IV. m such a fortunate lie_dnnini:'. 
 
 There wa- a creek, or arm of the -,-a, dry a! low water, which 
 lay on the rLdit hand of the landing-place, and through which 
 
 iti the n.-are : road t . L'< )rient. and the only one tit for the march 
 of troops, or the drauirht of cannon and hea\ \' carriaires. As it was 
 then hiirh water, the TTench runaways were obliged, by tin- creek, 
 to make a circuit of some mile-; and they thereby mi-led the 
 Lfeneral, who. ju-tly eoiicludin-_ r tiiey would take -holier in that 
 town, and Inning no other guide- to conduct him. thought that, 
 by following their foot-teps. he would be led the readiest and 
 .'liorte-t way to I/Orient. He detai'hed, therefore, in pur-uit of 
 the living militia, about a thousand men. under the command of 
 1 '.i :_a !:.! < >' barrel ; w ho. after lieimr hara-.-ed by some liriiiLT from 
 the hed'j-e-. (by w hi eh I ,ieut .-( 'ol . Fr.-kiue, < j ua rt er- . M a- 1 er < i cue ral, 
 wa- dan _'. : .; 1 v woiindeil.) arrived that evening al ( . li ' '.. a 
 village about ;1 leagued; :aut from the landing-place. 'The general 
 him-clf lay near ll.i- -ea--h..re. to w ait l'..r tl..- landing of tic- re-t ..f the 
 force-. I iy break . : 1 ih.-ni upto join the bri-a ; : r a! I luidel. 
 
 lie there learn. -d from --me pea-ant-, taken pri-oiau--. and who 
 
 poke the Trench Ian :uai r e. i v hich few of the c. mmon ] imple in 
 I'.rittany are able to ,1 ..) thai the r. :t .l into whieh he had been h-d. 
 by the reasons above -pecilied. w a- the l..n-v-t by four or li\ e miles. 
 
 lie was al>u informed, what he 1 ad partly -< - n. that the r. ad wa.- Vc-rv 
 VOL. I. _' (;
 
 450 APPENDIX. 
 
 ilangcrous and difficult, running through narrow lanes and defiles, 
 betwixt high hedges, faced with stone walls, and bordered in many 
 places with thick woods and brushes, where a very few disciplined 
 and brave troops might stop a whole army; and where even a few, 
 without discipline or bravery, might, by firing suddenly upon the 
 forces, throw them into confusion. 
 
 In order to acquire a more thorough knowledge of the country, of 
 which he and the whole army were utterly ignorant, he here divided 
 the troops into two ecpial bodies, and marched them up to L'Oricnt, 
 by two different roads, which were pointed out to him. The one 
 part, which he himself conducted, passed without much molestation. 
 The other, under Brigadier O'Farrel, was not so fortunate. Two 
 battalions of that detachment, Richbell's ami Frampton's, partly 
 from their want of experience, and partly from the terror naturally 
 inspired into soldiers by finding themselves in a difficult country un- 
 known both to themselves and leaders, and partly, perhaps, from 
 accident, to which the courage of men is extremely liable, fell into con- 
 fusion, before a handful of French peasants who fired at them from be- 
 hind the hedges. Notwithstanding all theendeavours of theBrigadier, 
 many of them threw down their arms, and ran away ; others fired 
 in confusion, and wounded each other; audit' any regular forces 
 had been present to take advantage of this disorder, the most fatal 
 consequences might have ensued. And though they were at last 
 led on, and joined the general that evening before L'Oricnt, the 
 panic still remained in these two battalions afterwards, and com- 
 municated itself to others ; kept the whole army in anxiety, even 
 when they were not in danger, and threw a mighty damp on the 
 expectations of success, conceived from this undertaking. L'Oricnt, 
 lately a small village, now a considerable town, on the coast of 
 Brittany, lies in the extremity of a fine bay, the mouth of which 
 is very narrow, and guarded by the strong citadel of Port Louis. 
 This town has become the centre of the French East India trade, 
 the seat of the company established for that commerce, and the 
 magazine whence they distribute the East India commodities. The 
 great prizes made upon them by the English, during the course of 
 the war, had given a check to this growing commerce : yet still the 
 town was esteemed a valuable acquisition, Avere it only on account 
 of the wealth it contained, and the store-houses of the company, a 
 range of stately buildings, erected at public charge, both for use 
 and ornament. The town itself is far from being strong. Two 
 sides of it, which ai'O not protected with water, are defended only 
 with a plain wall, near thirty feet high, of no great thickness, and 
 without any fosse or parapet. But the water which covers the
 
 DKSfKNT ON Till: COAST OF FRANCF. 
 
 other two -ill."-. rondoro 1 it impo-dhle to he iiive-ued, and ltuvc :ui 
 opportunity for niultitii le- of j ><'<>] lt to throw tlioiiisolvo.-j into it 
 from every corner of that populous ooimtrv. And though these, for 
 want of discipline, ooulil not ho tru-tt*l in tin: li . M airuin.st regular 
 forces, Vi-t heeaui they of : ;:v,i! u-e in a defence lioliiiul wall-, hy 
 throwing up works, erecting hatterie-. and 1. _ r _;- i 1 1 _ r trenches, to 
 secure (what was .- u 1 i i < * i < 1 1 1 ) fur a l\'\v days, a weak town against a. 
 -ma 11 and il [-provided army. The Fast India ( 'oin pan v had numhers 
 ol oaniioii in their magazines, and had thoiv orootod a school of 
 nccr . for the -or vice of their ship- and .-ettlenieuts ; the ves- 
 '1- in too harhoiir supplied tliom with nn.ro cannon, and with 
 "anii'ii acou-tomed to their management and use; and whati'vor 
 a;h wanting, oitlior in artillery or warlike stores, could ea-ily lie 
 hroiiirht ly water from Port Louis, with which the town of I/Orient 
 hep! always an open communication. 
 
 I'ut a- those advantage-, though great, require 1 t li a -uliioiont 
 pro-onco of mind, and ,-onie time, to ho employed again.-t an enemy, 
 ti- not impi'ohahlc, that if the admiral had heeii supplied with 
 propri- pilots and the general with proper guides, which couhl 
 have led the Fngli-h iinniodiatol y upon the ooa.-t, and to the town, 
 the very terror of -o 1 1 1 1 < - x i ; < ' > 1 all inva-hui would have rendered 
 the h'.huhiiaut- ineapahle nf re i-!aneo, and made them surrender 
 at di cretion. 1 ho want of the-e advantage- had already lo-t two 
 ; ami more time mu-t yet he consumed, heforo they could so 
 .iiueh a- make the ajip'-araneo n| an attack. Cannon was wanting, 
 :.;id tii" n.ad !>y v. hioli tic army had marched, wa- ah olutelv unlit 
 
 I'm!- the comeyau f them. The general, therefore, having first 
 
 !e-patched an oilieer and a party to reconnoitre the country, and 
 I'nd a nearer and hetter road, Septomher _'_' 1, went himself next 
 day to the -oa-.-hore. for the >ame purpose, and al-o in order to 
 c iiici-rl with the admiral the proper method of hriuging up cannon ; 
 aliiio : all the l;or-e- in the country, whieh are extremely weak 
 and ol a diminutive -ize, had keen driven away hy the pea-ant-. 
 Accordingly, a road wa- found, much nearer, though -till ten mile- 
 ugl h ; ..: ! in i<-h h tl r. tin u _di ea-ily ren !e:v,] iuipa --aide hy 
 rain y weather, a .: i e\] lerienced. 
 
 A council of war wa- held on h .;: r 1 the IVinee--u. coU-;-i hilt of 
 the admiral and g ueral. lirigadior ( I' Furrel and C uumodore Cote-. 
 The (Mi_inee;-- . ! >ireetor-( ieneral Arm-tn-n.' and Captain Wat-oii, 
 who had -urveyed the town of l,'()rioiit. hoing called in. wore 
 asked their opi n'n mi v ith regard to ti.e praetiealiili: y of an attempt 
 in it, together wit :i the time, and artillery, and ammunition, ro- 
 oai-ite for that purp o-o. Their answer wa-. that with two twelve
 
 4.52 APPENDIX. 
 
 pounders, and a ten inch mortar, planted on the spot which they 
 had pitched on for erecting a battery, they engaged either to make 
 a practicable breach in the walls, or with cartridges, bombs, and red- 
 hot balls, destroy the town, by laying it in ashes in twenty-four 
 hours. Captain Chalmers, the captain of the artillery, who had 
 not then seen the town, was of the same opinion, from their descrip- 
 tion of it, provided the battery was within the proper distance. 
 Had the king's orders been less positive for making an attempt on 
 some part of the coast of France, yet such flattering views offered 
 by men who promised what lay within the sphere of their own pro- 
 fession, must have engaged the attention of the admiral and general, 
 and induced them to venture on a much more hazardous and diffi- 
 cult undertaking. 'Twas accordingly agreed that four twelve 
 pounders, and a ten inch mortar, together with three field-pieces, 
 should be drawn up to the camp by sailors, in order to make, with 
 still greater assurance, the attempt, whose success seemed so certain 
 to the engineers. These pieces of artillery, with the stores demanded, 
 notwithstanding all difficulties, were drawn to the camp in two 
 days, except two twelve pounders, which arrived not till the day 
 afterwards. A third part of the sailors of the whole fleet, together 
 with all the marines, were employed in this drudgery ; the admiral 
 gave all assistance in his power to the general; and the public, in 
 one instance, saw that it was not impossible for land and sea officers 
 to live in harmony together, and concur in promoting the success of 
 an enterprise. 
 
 The general, on his arrival in the camp, found the officer returned 
 whom he had sent to summon the town of L'Orient. By his infor- 
 mation, it appeared that the inhabitants were so much alarmed by 
 the suddenness of this incursion, and the terror of a force, which 
 their fears magnified, as to think of surrendering, though upon con- 
 ditions, which would have rendered the conquest of no avail to their 
 enemies. The inhabitants insisted upon an absolute security to 
 their houses and goods ; the East India Company to their magazines 
 and store- houses ; and the garrison, consisting of about seven hun- 
 dred regular militia and troops, besides a great number of irregulars, 
 demanded a liberty of marching out with all the honours of war. 
 A weak town that opened its gates on such conditions was not 
 worth the entering ; since it must immediately be abandoned, leav- 
 ing only to its conquerors the shame of their own folly, and perhaps 
 the reproach of treachery. The general, therefore, partly trusting 
 to the promise of the engineers, and partly desirous of improving 
 the advantages gained by the present danger, when the deputies 
 arrived next day, September 23d, from the governor, from the
 
 DESCENT ON THE COAST 01-' FRANCE. 4;,;; 
 
 town, and from tin* Ei-t India ( Venpany, refused to receive any 
 articles hut tlnot* from the governor, who commanded in tin* name 
 of hi-- 1110-1 ( 'hri.-tian majest v. He even refu.-ed liberty to the gar- 
 rison to march out ; well knowing that, a- the town was not in- 
 vested, they could take that liberty whenever they plea-od. 
 
 Meanwhile, everv accident concurred to render the enterprise of 
 the English abortive. Sonic deserters got into the town, who iu- 
 ; Tined the gani.-on of the true force of the English, which, con- 
 jecturing from the ureal tie-- and number of the -hips, thev had mueh 
 magnified. Even this small body dimini.-hed daily, from the fatigue 
 of exces-ivc ilnty, and from the great rains that began to fall. 
 Scarce three thou-and were left to do duty, which .-till augmented 
 the fatigue to the few that remained; especially when joined to the 
 frequent alarm-, that the unaccountable panic thev were -truck 
 with made but too freipicnt. Ivanis had so spoilt the road- a- t < 
 render it impracticable to bring up any heavier cannon, or more 
 of the -ame calibre, so k>n_ r a way. by tin' mere force of -eaiuon. 
 lint what, above all things, made the enterpri-o appear de-perate, 
 
 wa- the di.-covery of the ignoram i' the engineer.-, chieflv of the 
 
 director-general, who in the whole cour.-o "I hi- proceedimrs ap- 
 peared neither to have .-kill in contrivance, imr order and diligence 
 in execution. Mi- own want of capacity and experience, made hi- 
 project- of no u-e ; hi- blind ob-linaey rendered him incapable ol 
 making u>e of the capacity of other.-. Though the general offered 
 to place and support the battery wherever the engineer thought 
 proper, lie eho-e to set it above -i\ hundivd yards from the wall, 
 where such small cannon could do no manner of execution. lie 
 planted it at -o obliopie an alible to the wall that tin ball thrown 
 from the largest cannon nm-t have recoiled, without making any 
 impression, lie trusted much to the red-hot hall-, with which he 
 promi.-ed to lav the town in a-hes in twenty-four hour- ; vet, bv hi 
 neu'li _*'' inc. or that of other-, the furnace with which these ball- were 
 to he heated, was forgot. After the furnace was brought, he fuind 
 that the bellow.-, and other implements neee>-arv for the execution 
 of that work, wereah-o left en heard the -tore- -hip-. With -real 
 dillicultv, and intinite pain-, amiuunitioii and artillerv -toiv- were 
 drawn up from the -ea--hore in tumbrel-. lb- was tot all v ignorant. 
 till some days atter. that he had ahuiir with him animuuili m wag- 
 ons, which would have much facilitated thi- labour. Ili- order- to 
 the oilicer- of the train were -o coiifu.-ed, or -> il! obeyed, that iu. 
 a mm unit ion came regularly up to the camp, to -erve the few cannon 
 and the mortars that played upon the town. Not only fa-cine.-. 
 pbpiets, and everything uecc-.-aiy for the battery, were supplied
 
 451 APPENDIX. 
 
 him beyond his demand; but even workmen, notwithstanding the 
 great fatigue and small numbers of the army. These workmen 
 found no addition to their fatigue in obeying his orders. He left 
 them often unemployed, for want of knowing in what business he 
 should occupy them. 
 
 Meanwhile the French garrison, being so weakly attacked, had 
 leisure to prepare for a defence, and make proper use of their great 
 number of workmen, if not of soldiers, and the nearness and plenty 
 of their military stores. By throwing up earth in the inside of the 
 wall, they had planted a great many cannon, some of a large calibre, 
 and opened six batteries against one that played upon them from 
 the English. The distance alone of the besiegers' battery, made these 
 cannon of the enemy do less execution ; but that same distance 
 rendered the attack absolutely ineffectual. Were the battery brought 
 nearer, to a hundred paces for instance, 'twould be requisite to make 
 it communicate with the camp by trenches and a covered way, to 
 dig which was the work of some days for so small an army. Dur- 
 ing this time, the besieged, foreseeing the place to which the attack 
 must be directed, could easily fortify it by retrenchments in the 
 inside of the wall ; and planting ten cannon to one, could silence the 
 besiegers' feeble battery in a few hours. They would not even 
 have had leisure to make a breach in the thin wall, which first dis- 
 covered itself; and that breach, if made, could not possibly serve to 
 any purpose. Above fifteen thousand men, completely armed by 
 the East India Company, and brave while protected by cannon 
 and ramparts, still stood in opposition to three thousand, discou- 
 raged with fatigue, with sickness, and with despair of ever succeed- 
 ing in so unequal a contest. 
 
 A certain foreign writer, more anxious to tell his stories in an 
 entertaining manner than to assure himself of their reality, has 
 endeavoured to put this expedition in a ridiculous light ; but as 
 there is not one circumstance of his narration, which has truth in 
 it, or even the least appearance of truth, it would be needless to 
 lose time in refuting it. With regard to the prejudices of the 
 public, a few questions may suffice. 
 
 Was the attempt altogether impracticable from the beginning ? 
 The general neither proposed it, nor planned it, nor approved it, 
 nor answered for its success. Did the disappointment proceed 
 from want of expedition ? lie had no pilots, guides, nor intelli- 
 gence, afforded him ; and could not possibly provide himself in 
 any of these advantages, so necessary to all military operations. 
 Were the engineers blamable ? This has always been considered
 
 DMsCKM O.N Till: L'uAST Ul' J'KA.Xi Ik | -, 
 
 a. :i Inanch of iiiiliiarv know led:;o, distinct i"i\-i:i that oi . 
 munder, and wkieh i- altogether intru-ted to those to whose pi"- 
 it'-.<ioi] il peculiarly helmi ;-. 1 5 \- his \ ijotir in coinhatiit:-: the vain 
 terror.- spread ainoim'.-t tin- troop-, and hv hi- prudence in timely 
 di "-i-iiii.: from a fruitless enterprise, the misf >rt an<' wa- confined 
 merely I" a di-app. lint an nt. without anv 1"-- or uuy <li.-!ioiioiir to 
 tlir lJriti.-!i ;inib, I 'o.uniumlers, from the situation oi* all'air-. have 
 had opportunities of unpin-iim more honour; ve! there i- n> one 
 who-,,- conduct, in every circumstance, onld ho more five from 
 reproach. ( >n the lir.-t of < >ctoher. the licet -ailed out of ( J ui mj < flay 
 lk ad. from mie ul the nio.-L dangerous situations that so lar- 1 a tl. : 
 had ev<r lain in, at so late a .-eason. and in -o stormy a sea as the 
 I5av of Ik cay. The reflection on this damrer had lieeit no incon- 
 siderakle cause of hastening the re-emharkatioii of the troops. An 1 
 the more so, that the secretary had Lriven express, onh r- to the 
 admiral not to briuir the tleet into anv hazard. The prudence of 
 the hasty departure appeared the more vi-ihlv tin very day the 
 tlee! -ail, 1. when a violent -; r:n ari iim from the Miuth vv < 1. it 
 was c .ncludeil, thai if the -nip- had keen !yin_r at anchor mi the 
 coast, many oi them mu-t have necessarily lieeu driven ashore, and 
 wrecked i a the lock- that -arrounded thorn. The tleet wa-d: - 
 por-o 1. and -i.\ tram-ports keiim separated iVotn the re-!, want 
 iinined i!i iy for Im_dund, earrvia. with them ahoiit oi_h; hun 
 of the foive.-. The iv-t pal into (^uikor ,n Day. and the general 
 landed hi- mall l.o !y mi th penin-nhi of thai name, ky - re -.i 
 a I tattery oi -mile _m.- on t he narrow neek oi land, w hich joins the 
 penm-iilu to the continent, he rendered hi- situation alum-! im- 
 jirt-j-nakle, while he saw the tleet rid in:: secure in hi- nei_rhhoaih -d. 
 in one of the i'nie-t hay- in the world. 
 
 Ti:e industry and -;:i\: of the mmoral supported hoth him-elf 
 and tho ai'iny au'ainsl all tlie.-e disadvantage-, while there was the 
 
 llle-l pro-pec! of -nrer-.. I iut hi- prudence lie!, moiled him to 
 
 ahand n ; t. v\ hen i; appeared :tl t > m-ther de-perate. 
 
 '.I'he eii ;i:;ecr-. eeiiiir no manner of dice! iVoin their -hell and 
 red-hi ' kail .and :. ikle that "l ..a- imp.'- -ihle ei;l er to make a 
 kreael from a ha! '.i rv. . ivc!ed a! - . .',. .: .li :auee, >>v t . plac 
 hat te'/v n, a .-, r. i;:. '. .' m-h a \\ - i .' v ! k reach cannoti. at la-' 
 unanimously lir->ii_'hl a report to t he m-neral. that they hud no hm-cr 
 anv In ; e of - icce- : an I lha! i .mi all the a nun unit mm w hmh. with 
 iniinite hiki.ur. had In en hro'iirkt. wa- e\pi .hi: im pro-peel 
 remained of kein _ r farther -applied, mi aceouul of the h;\m. -u road . 
 which lay ketweeu them and tic licet. The ouncilof war held 
 in consequence of thi- report, kalanced the rea-mis for continuum-
 
 456 APPENDIX. 
 
 or abandoning the enterprise, if men can be .said to balance where 
 they find nothing on the one side but an extreme desire to serve 
 their king and country, and on the other every maxim of war and 
 prudence. They unanimously agreed to abandon the attempt, and 
 return on board the transports. The whole troops were accordingly 
 re-embarked by the 28th of September, with the loss of near twenty 
 men killed and Avounded, on the whole enterprise. 
 
 APPENDIX B. 
 
 LETTERS REFERRED TO IN THE TEXT. 1 
 
 I. LETTERS FROM MONTESQUIEU TO HUME. 2 
 
 J ai recu Monsieur, comme une chose tres precieuse, la belle 
 lettre que vous m'avez fait Phonneur de m'ecrirc an sujct de mon 
 ouvrage. Elle est remplie de reflexions si judicicuses et si sensees, 
 que je nc scaurois vous dire a quel point j'en ai etc charme. Ce 
 que vous elites sur la forme dont les jures prononcent en Angle- 
 terre, ou en Ecosse, m'a surtout fait un grand plaisir, et l'endroit de 
 mon livre ou j'ai traite cette matiere est peut-etre celui qui m'a fait 
 le plus de peine, et oil j'ai le plus souvent change. Ce que j'avois fait, 
 parce-quc je n'avois trouve personnc qui eut la-dessus des idees 
 aussi nettcs, que vous avcz. Mais e'est assez parler de mon livre 
 que j'ai l'honncur de vous presenter. J'aime niieux vous parler 
 d'une belle dissertation ou vous donnez une beaucoiq> plus grande 
 influence aux causes morales qu'aux causes physiques et il m'aparu, 
 autant que je suis capable d'en jugcr, que ce sujet est traite a fond, 
 quelque difficile qu'il soit a traiter, et ecrit de main de maitre, et 
 rempli d'idees et de reflexions tres ncuves. Nous commencames 
 aussi a lire M. Stuart et moi un autre ouvrage de vous 
 ou vous maltraitcz un pcu l'ordre ecclesiastique. Vous eroyez bien 
 que Monsr. Stuart et moi n'avons pas pu cntierement vous approuver 
 nous nous sommes contcntes de vous admirer. Nous nc crumes 
 pas que ces Messieurs furent tels, mais nous trouvames fort bonnes 
 les raisons que vous donnez pour qu'ils dussent etre tels. M. Stuart 
 m'a fait un grand plaisir en me faisant esperer que je trouverois a 
 Paris une partie de ces beaux ouvrages. J'ai l'honneur, Monsieur, 
 
 1 From the MSS. R.S.E. 2 See aulea, p. 304.
 
 MnNTK.SQlTlEU'S LKTTKH>. 
 
 do vmi,. cn remorrifr, ct d'etre :i\oc !- MMitimen lo In plus par- 
 fade e.-timo. votro tn - hiiinblo ot tiT- < .1 >.' i -n n t serviteur. 
 
 .M<>> n>unr.r. 
 A Bonl.-iiu, -. Hi .1/ ,, I7i ., 
 
 (2.) 
 
 Muiideur j'ai remi la lettre quo vmin ni'avez fait 1 limuiein Jo 
 m'eeriro <ln I <i Jo Jnillet, m il no m'a etc pn -ilde Jo la I'm ipT 
 nijiiiirilliui, a can-.' il'uiu' _Tande tliiximi -ur Ion wax t t ipm n'avant 
 [mint aetut'llt'iii'-nt do -eeivtnin Aii^lai.- !' no puuvois nm la ("aire 
 lire. J'etui- pn t a \- fain- repmi-o ipianJ .Mr. Lo Mn.-nier o-t ontn! 
 rlioz mm, ot ma parlr !' riionncur ipt'mi votit fairo a in m livro 
 il Lco.-.-e tie l'v iinpriiner, ot m'a ilit co < [U' vim- m'avoz dej i 
 appri- par \ntro lottro. Jo -ai- tre- oblige a vmi- Mmi-Jour ct a 
 ^Imi.-ieur Alexandre, lo la jioino <pie vou.- avoz pri-e. Jo ,-ui.- 
 oiinvcmi avec M. Lo Mosnier ipio ji ferais fairo nuo enpio do- 
 correction.- <pio j'ai en voices en Anvdeterre. ot a I'ari.-', do la premiere 
 edition (!'. ( ieiicve, on 1 volume.- in lto < j ; i i e-t t it.- iautive. i r ipi'il 
 (l,ai'L r t'""it ilo' !<> onviiyi'r. J'ai reeii .Mnii.ieur. If- exeniplairo- 
 tie \n- beaux mivra:_T- tpie \ ..';- avoz e a la Imntt ilo mViivinvr. ct j'ai 
 In avec mi tit - LTainl plai-ir IV av -ur IV-prit liumaiu, ipii ic pout 
 partir ipio d'nn e-prit extiTineuioiit pliilo-uphi.pi.'. Tout ceei o-t 
 rcnipli tie ljcllc- Mees ot jo vmi.- rcnicroic ilu plai.-ir ipio la lee- 
 turo ni'en a fait ; a lY'^ard Jo la citation ilo- L'ttro- IVr.-ane- il 
 vaut aiitant ipm men imiii v .-"it ijuc eolui il'im autre, ct cola n'e-i 
 d'aueiuie onn.-etpienee. 
 
 La reputation ilo Moii-iour lo Da'tour Miillotmi e-t cortaiue- 
 niont venue ju-'pi'a noil-. Notior ut jam .-it eanilui- imn Delia no-- 
 tri.-. ct j'o.-pero lticn mo procurer l'avanta^o tic lire le- ouvra^-e 
 limit von- mo jiarlez. Jo .- ai- ipio .Mr. tie Miilletmi o-t mi limnin 
 eminent. J'ai Mmi.-iour riiotinciir il'etro, \e. 
 
 A /'..(/;.< :; : ; r , im. 
 
 Jo vmi- priu Mmi-ieiir, Jo vmilnir liion fairo me- <. .in j ! iiu.-n t - 
 tn - huinlile- .1 Mmi-. Stewart : il fair.. it Lien Jo veiiir noil- rovoir 
 oct autmune pmoliaai. 
 
 J'ai .Mmi-ieiir !' ;u I'limnieiir Je vutre Imtre avec la po.-tille n;:i 
 V c-I jnillto, e! j'ai ile pill- IT II nil i XflllplailT Jo M-- eXeelleiltOS 
 
 et u n pn .-it in u- par la voie Jo M i 1 1 r< 1 Morton. M r. Jo Jmitpiarl uui a 
 fi.nue leJc--cin tic tra. In ire i'mira.c.ic M -il-'- W'.iiiacc.nic.nt liicr.pi']' 
 traJuiroit au--i lo votro -ur lo nninl.ro Jo- peuple- ehez lo- ancicnm
 
 458 APPENDIX. 
 
 nations. Ccla depcndra du succes qu'aura sa traduction qui est la 
 premiere qu'il ait faitc. II est certain qu'il a tons les talents qu'il 
 faut pour s'en acquittcr, ct je ne doute pas que le public nc l'encou- 
 rage a continucr. Lc public qui admircra lcs deux ouvrages, 
 n'admirera pas moins deux amis qui font ceder d'unc maniere si 
 noble les petits interets de l'esprit aux interets do l'amitie ; ct pour 
 moi, jo regarderai comme an tres grand bonhcur, si jc puis me 
 Hatter d'avoir quelque part dans cette amitie. Jai l'lionneur 
 d'etre, &c. 
 
 Paris, ce 13 Julllet, 1753. 
 
 II. LETTERS FROM THE ABBE LE BLANC TO HUME. 
 
 Referral to in vol. i. p. 3G6, and p. 400. 
 
 (1.) 
 
 Monsieur, La traduction dc vos discours politiques, que j'ai 
 
 l'lionneur de vous envoycr, est la preuve la plus eclatanto que je 
 pouvois vous donner de l'estime que j'en fais; vous en serez 
 peut-etre plus content si j'avois ete a portee dc profiter dc vos 
 lumieres. Jc vous prie, et votre interet s'y trouve comme le mien, 
 de me faire la grace de la lire avec attention, et de m'avertir des 
 endroits, ou malgre toute l'attention que j'y ai apportee, j'aurois pu 
 m'ecarter dc votre sens. J'en profiterai a la premiere edition, ainsi 
 que des remarques, changements, ou additions, qu'il vous plaira me 
 communiquer, soit a 1'occasion do vos discours, soit sur les autres 
 ouvrages Anglois dont je parle dans mes notes. 
 
 Je vous prie encore Monsieur que ce soit le plus tot qu'il vous 
 sera possible, car il est bon dc vous dire que cette traduction, grace 
 a l'excellence dc l'original, se debiteici comme un Roman; e'est tout 
 dire, notrc gout pour lcs futilites vous est connu; il vous etoit 
 reserve <le nous y faire renoncer, pour nous occupcr des matieres 
 les plus digues d'excrcer lcs esprits raisonnablcs. Lc Libraire 
 m'avcrtit qu'il sera bientot terns dc penser a la secondc edition. 
 J'attcndrai votre reponse pour l'enrichir de vos remarques qui 
 feront que ccllc-ci sera recuc du public avec encore plus d'applau- 
 dissements. 
 
 Jc profite de cette occasion pour vous offrir unc amitie qui vous 
 sera, peut-etre, inutile, et vous demander la votre que je serois tres 
 flatte d'obtenir. II semble que l'auteur ct lc traducteur sont faits pour 
 etre lies ensemble: il est a presumcr qui celui (pie traduit un 
 ouvrngc a d'avance ou du moins 6]>ous6 la faron dc parlor dc celui qui 
 l'a. fait. J'ai trouve dans vos discours un politique Pbilosophe, et 
 un Pbilosophe citoyen. Jc n'ai moi-meme donne aucun ouvrage qui 
 nc porte ce double caractere, ct jc me flatte que vous le trouverez
 
 dan- lc- LeLtiv- d'uii r.';.n ; i . .- i par hazard elles vuus soiit 
 connues. 
 
 J'ai I'liouuour d'etre, avcc les sentiments d'estime doiit jo \ i*.-n 
 ile voii.s domier tics tutnoL'iiaircs publics, ct cetto - >rte do respect (pie 
 je n'ai ipie pour (piehpies IMiilosophes tels ipie vuus. Moii.-icitr, 
 vi'tre tr..- humble ct trcs ubeis.-aut ^erviteur, 
 
 L'Aii]'.]': Li: Blanc, 11:-; >riogrupho dos Batimcnts 
 du Koy tie Franco. 
 !> Parit,l. -J.V/i Jut, I7.VI. 
 
 (-) 
 Monsikik, La traduction do vos d'lM'ours politiipies est la 
 premiere ipie j'ai dunnOu au public; et l'utilite (pie j'ai cru (pie ma 
 patrie en pouvoit ret i re r, est l'unnpie motif (pie m'ait determine a 
 roiitreprendre. Jo u'use me repondre <pio von- la trouvorez telle 
 (pie vuus l'esperez. Cost a inui a vous demandor votro indulgence 
 pnur les tautes <pie vous v trouvorez. et a vous prior do mo coni- 
 muniipicr vos renianpies sur dos notes ipie j'ai cru y devoir adjouter. 
 Je Niui- [iroinets < le comiTer avec sd!i:ni.--ion les orrours ipie vn- 
 111* V forez aporeovuir. A la I'm du 2<\ vol. j'ai doimc uno notice 
 des mcillciirs ouvra^es AiiLflois (pic j'ai coii-ultt -. sur les mature 
 du commerce; j'ai hazard.'' de porter moil jup'ineiit .-ur cliacnn do 
 ceiix doiit fai parlc. Je lo rectilierai Mir vos lumiero-, si vou- 
 vtniloz bien me les comniiiiiiipicr. Si j'en ai oinis ipiel'pi'un 
 irimportant. jo vou- prie de mo lc I'airo coinioitro. ct do mo dire 
 vou nicine, ipn ctes mi m oxcollont |iilto. cc imo 1* n en doit peii-er. 
 J'enricherai la 2 1'dition do tout ce doiit vmi< voudroz I'ion mo lane 
 part. 
 
 A I'oirard do votro hi-toiro do la (irando Bretairno (jiio \nu 
 nraniiouccz, co no >era plus siinplenient coinmo \ 'otro adniiratcur 
 mais coiiimo votro ami Mon.-iour, ipie j'eu ontroprondrai la traduc 
 tion, et jo ferai do mon mieiix pour ipiYlle porde lc nioins ipi'il c.-i 
 po--ihle, Jaime votro fucoii de poiir-or. et jo siiis familiuri-e a\ ee 
 votro -tile : -i la inuticro e\i;_'o ipi'il suit plus dove jo tachorai d'v 
 indro. Mais [< mr ipio }< pui-.-e outroprondro cettc traduction 
 :i\ ec -ucccs, il taut .-'il e.-t po -iblo, ipio vou- rotardioz a Londrc 
 au n mins d'uii nioi- la publication Jo vot re ou\ ra_-c. ct 'pie voti- me 
 I'onvovoz tout do .-uito par la po-te, addro--e .-an- a ut re cm . 'loppo a 
 Mr. Jannos. ( 'hevalicr do 1'ordro du K'oi. < 'oiitrollour < !i m nil do 
 i'ostc- a I'aris. N'oii- avmi ici unc t'oiile 1' i < r i \ : i i ; : - im dioeiv<, 
 (pii sans t-avoir ni l'Aiiirluis ni lc brum/";- im inc. -m;t ,i l'alli'it de 
 tout ee ijiii -"mi prime cli''/ vou-. ct ipii a I'aidc d'un diotioiinairo vou 
 massacroroiit tnipitoyabloiuent. On mm- a domic ain-i plu-ieiir- 
 liou- oiivraires. et entre autre- la dissertation do M. Wallace dmit
 
 460 APPENDIX. 
 
 il n'est pas possible de supporter la lecture en Francois. Pour faire 
 de pareille besogne, il ne faut pas beaucoupde terns a ces Messieurs 
 la. lis travaillent vite, parce qu'ils travaillent /ami potius quam 
 fames. Si je n'ai pas du terns devaut eux, je serai prevenu, et si je 
 le suis, je serai oblige d'abandonner 1'ouvragc. Jc ne vous parle 
 pas des traducteurs de Ilollande qui sont encore plus mauvais s'il 
 est possible. Cetto fois-ci je veux faire un office d'amitie, je vous 
 prie de me mettre a porte'e de le bien faire. Yos discours Politiques 
 vous out, comnie je m'y attendois, donne ici la plus liaute reputation, 
 des que votre histoire paroitra, un libraire la fera venir par la poste, 
 et mettra ses ouvriers apres, a moins que vous ne m'accordiez la 
 grace que je vous demande. Alors on saura que jc la traduis, et je 
 suis sur que ces messieurs me laisseront faire. 
 
 J'ai encore a vous apprendre, monsieur, que le succes de vos 
 Discours Politiques ne fait qu'augmenter tous les jours, et que tout 
 retentit dc vos Eloges. Nos ministres merae n'en sont pas moins 
 satisfaits que le public. Mr. le Comte d'Argenson, Mr. Le Mare- 
 cbal de Noailles, en un mot tous ccux qui ont ici part au gouverne- 
 ment ont parle de votre ouvragc, comme d'un des meilleurs qui 
 ayent jamais etc faits sur ces matieres. J'ai ete oblige de coder 
 mon excmplaire a un d'entre eux; ainsi je vous prie de m'en adresser 
 un par la memo voie que je vous ai indiquce, la poste apres que vous 
 in'aurez envoy e le I. vol. de votre histoire, d'autant plus que les 
 additions et corrections dont vous m'avez fait part se rapportent a 
 la 3 edition qui je crois sc trouveroit difficilement a Paris. 
 
 (3.) 
 
 Monsieur, Jc vous avois promis, et je m'etois Matte de 
 pouvoir consacrer mes veilles a traduire aussi votre admirable 
 Histoire de Pinfortunee Maison de Stewart. Les obstacles les plus 
 puissants, ceux-memes qui Stent a 1' esprit cette liberte sans laquellc 
 on ne fait rien de bien, voyages, ailaires, disgraces, maladies tout 
 s'est oppose a l'execution d'un projet qui rioit si fort a mon imagi- 
 nation et dont l'execution ne pouroit que me faire honneur. 
 
 A ce defaut j'ai prete a un de mes amis, homme d'esprit et 
 laborieux, le premier volume que vous avez cu labontede m'envoyer. 
 II l'a traduitet le rendra public aucommencementde l'liiverprochain. 
 
 J'ai de memo que tons ceux qui savent ici l'Anglois, le plus grand 
 emprcssement de lire votre second volume. J'en ferai le memo 
 usage que du premier. 
 
 Je vous avois annonce que vos discours Politiques feroient 
 parmi nous le meme efl'et (pie UEsprit des Loi.r. L'evenement 
 m'a justifie, non settlement ils jouissent parmi nous de cette liaute
 
 CnkRKSI'o.NDENCi;. 
 
 401 
 
 nputation iju'il- nicritent, mairi ils out donne lieu a un grand nom- 
 bre d'autres. niivrages. j 1 us on nioins. estimable- et ipii la plus part 
 n'ont d'originul ipie la forme. Vous. en truuverez le catalogue a la 
 suite il'une troi.-ieiue edition ilo ma traduction ipie je vais dotiner 
 inces.-ammeut. 
 
 11 vient d'eii pa ro it re u:i ipii fait iei un grand bruit, et ipie jo 
 n'ai garde 1 confoudre avee tons ceux dont je viein tie parlor. 11 
 est intitule, L'A.mi i>i:s IIi>mmi:s or Tkaitk in: La Loitlation. 
 LAutetir e.-t un genie liurdi, original, qui comnn Montaigne su 
 lai-.-e aller a ses idees, les expose sans orgueil, sans niodestio; il no 
 uii iii uiilri' in nu'thode; niais .-on ouvrage. plein d'excellentes. 
 eludes, iv.-piie le bicn <le l'humanite et de la patrie. 11 pivclio 
 ['agriculture, et foudroye la finance. 11 combat votre systeme -ur 
 le luxe, mais avec les egards t'levc- a la siipcriorite do vos lumieres. 
 II m'a remis un exemplaire de son ouvrage. ipi'il me prie de vous 
 presenter comnie un tribut de son estime et de la reeonnoissanee 
 iju'il vous doit, pour l'utilite ipi'il a tirec de vos 1 )iseours I'olitiipie . 
 11 nu demande pas inioux ipie d' etre eclairti et par la noblesse des 
 sentiments et la politesso do la conduite. Je ne crains pas dele 
 dire. I/adversaire e-t diirno de vous. Cost Munso ur le Miii'i/ni* 
 ili M ivnl'i >>!. - j u i e.-t tel ipi'il pari. it dan- -on livre eV-t a 'lire an 
 i!e> pin- extraordinaire.- des homines ipi'il v ait en ipiebpie pays 
 < I ue ce suit. J e vous prie Mon-ieiir de m'indi'pier une voie sure pour 
 voii- 'aire parvciiir m n ou\ raire. 
 
 () 
 
 l>r.f.l,; ' -2-i ]>. I7M. 
 
 J'ai vu iei la traduction de vo- Discours I'olit'npies imprinice en 
 1 1 ol la n de ; die in' se prut pas' lire : vmis smitl'ririez vou<, Moii-ieur, 
 de inih voir ain.-i dciiirurc. Le Traductcur ipiel ipi'il soit ne --;; 
 to n stain men t ni 1" A n l. 1* >i.- iii le Francois. ( "e-t prubabli-ment un de 
 (i auteurs ipii travaillent a la foire pour le- libraires de Jlollande, 
 it limit le- ouvriiges bons mi inauvais >c di Intent aux foire-' de 
 l.rip.-ig et i!e I'm ne f rt . Les bibliot In ipies de cc pav- ci -out 
 rcinplies de lh res I'Vancois oui n'ont jamais v \ v v i ne .-ermil 
 janiai.- connus en franco. ( Vtto traduction pa-.-e iei pour i t re 
 d'nn .Mr. Mauvillon de Leip-ie dont le metier e-t de t:> : i>> de.-, 
 livre- Francois pour L'Allen.a^iie. et d'eii-einner ee ipi',1 ne -ait 
 e'e.-t a dire, \<>tre laiiLrue et la uotre. t'e ipi'il y a de Saxons 
 lettrt s tpii le- po-.-i di ni 1'ii no mi l'autre. et ipii .- inure-M-nt an bieu 
 de leur ]>ays, connois-enl 1'exccllence de votre ouvrage. me pre.-sent 
 de faire imprinier a Dre-de no me la seeonde edition de ma trailue- 
 tioii. et je pmirruis bieu me rem lie i leur avis. Je n'at tend- | \u< ( jue
 
 462 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 votre reponse pour mo decider. Quelque part qu'clle se fasse, je 
 tacherai de fairo en sorte qu'elle soit belle et correcte. 
 
 (5.) 
 
 Monsieur, II y a a pen pres un an que notrc commerce epis- 
 tolaire a commence, et j'ai grand regret quo par des contretcms do 
 tout espece il ait ete sitot interrompu. Yous m'avez donne trop 
 de preuves de votre politesse pour quo je no sois pas a present con- 
 vaincu que yous n'avcz recu aucunc des lcttres quo je vous ai ecrites 
 do Dresde, ct que j'avois essaye do vous fairc passer par la voie do 
 votre ambassadcur a cctte cour. Pret a quitter la Saxe, jo vous 
 ecrivis encor de Leipzic, pour vous rendre compte de men sejour en 
 co pays, et vous dire que la dissipation ou j'y avois vecu forcement, 
 nem'avoit pas permisd'avanccrbeaucoup dans la traduction de votro 
 bistoirc do la malheurcuse famille des Stuarts. J'ai depuis etc en 
 Ilollande, et, commc jo l'avois provu j'ai appris qu'un de cos 
 auteurs, qui tra^aillent a la fois aux gages des librairos qui les 
 employent, en avoit fait unc do son cote, qui etoit toute pretc a 
 paroitre. \ r ous pouvez aiscment jugcr du decouragement ou une 
 pareille nouvellc m'a jcttc. La manufacture des livres do Ilollande 
 fait reelleiucnt grand tort a notrc litterature Francoise. On y on!- 
 ployc a traduiro un excellent ouvrago des gens qui ne scroient bons 
 (ju'ii travailler a la fabrique du pnjiier. 
 
 APPENDIX C. 
 
 DOCUMENTS RELATING TO THE POEMS OF OSSIAN. 
 
 I. _ CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 (1.) 
 
 Hume to . 
 
 Edinburgh, August \6, 17C0. 
 Sir, I am not surprised to find by your letter, that Mr. Gray 
 should have entertained suspicions with regard to the authenticity 
 of these fragments of our Highland poetry. Tlic first time I was 
 shown the copies of some of them in manuscript, by our friend John 
 Nome, I was inclined to be a little incredulous on that head ; but 
 Mr. Homo removed my scruples, by informing me of the manner 
 iu which he procured them from Mr. Maophersou, the translator.
 
 OSSIAY.S i'oi'MS. 
 
 i;:: 
 
 lliese two L'''iit lenien were ilrinkinir the waters t <>_-< 1 1 m r at 
 .Mnllat last autumn, when their conversation fell upon Highland 
 poetry, which Mr. Mucphorson extolled very highly. Our friend, 
 who knew liim to lie a L 'ood -cholar, and a man of ta-te. found his 
 curiosity excited, and a-ked whether he had ever translated any of 
 them. Mr. Macphor-ou replied, that lie never had attempted any 
 such tliinir ; and doiilited whether it wa~ po--ible to truii-fii.-e such 
 beauties into our lam-ruaire ; hut. for Mr. Home'.- satisfaction, and 
 in order t > u'ive him a ireneral notion of the -train of that wild 
 
 ] try, lie would endeavour to turn one of them into Kmrlish. lie 
 
 a i !'i i :::::! v hroiiu'l it Id in one next da v, which our friend w a- -o much 
 
 ] h-a-ed with, that he never ceased -olicitin^ Mr. Mucpherson. till 
 In' iii-en - i 1 1 1 v produced that small volume which ha- been published. 
 
 After this volume was in everv body's hand-, and universally 
 admired, we heard everv dav new reason-, which put the nuthen- 
 t ieitv, not the -'feat antiquity w Inch the translator ascribe-; to them, 
 lievoiid all ipie-tioii ; for their anti ptitv i- a point, which mu-t he 
 a-cei'tained hv rea-onim.' : though the ar_rumeu!< he employs seem 
 wrv probable and coin ineiu.'. I>u! ci rtain it i-. that the-e poems 
 are in e\ervbodv'- m-nth in the i 1 irddands, have been handed 
 d iwn fi :n father to -on. and are of an ;i -e heymid all memory and 
 tradition. 
 
 In the fimilv of everv Highland chieftain, there wa- anciently 
 
 im .1 a hard, wl lice wa the - ;ui \, ith that of the ( iivek 
 
 rhap oi'ti.-! ; and the general -abject of the poem- which they re- 
 
 I wa- the war- of bim;.il : an epoeh no le-s remarkable anion-- 
 
 them, than the war- of Tn y anr n_' t! e ( i : i k p .eN. Thi- cu-toui 
 
 i- not even vet altogether aboli-hed : the hard and piper are 
 
 e-teenied the nio.-t honourable ollice- in a chieftain'- family, and 
 
 the-e two characters arc fivpientlv uui'ed in the -nine person. 
 
 Adam Smith, the celebrated 1'rofe-or in < ila-.-ow, told me that the 
 
 pi|- . of the Ariryh'-hire militia repeated to him all tho-e p, , m- 
 
 h Mr. Macpher on ha- translated, and manv more of eipial 
 
 1 . it; . M; j .r Maekav. I. >rd L'eay's l,r,,t!;.-r, a'l ,. t-l-l me that 
 
 I e reim niher- them p, :f, nly ; :; likev.i did the Laird of Macfar- 
 
 : .] ' ' n w 1h 'in w e ha\ e in thi cam! rv, and 
 
 w ho in- : ; -o -; ;, l\ on t !,. hi-ti ri.'al truth, a w 11 a > a the \ 
 
 cal beauty , f ;! prod i . I cnld add :l e Laird and Lady 
 
 Ma-leod I' the-e autl v. idi mm: v m re, if the - w ere not 
 
 suilicieut, a- tl.ev ii\e in different par:- of the Highland-, \ery 
 
 remote iVoin i ach otln . ai I tl . c uhl i n! v he aco 1 tainted w ith 
 
 come in a manner nat t tail w i : 
 
 liait lti- 
 
 i: .-. Iv -pi'i.ul t heni-el ve- into e\erv mouth, ami imprinteil them 
 elves on e\ ,. rv mem ; v.
 
 4G4 APPENDIX. 
 
 Everybody in Edinburgh is so convinced of this truth, that we 
 have endeavoured to put Mr. Macpherson on a way of procuring 
 us more of these wild flowers. He is a modest, sensible, young 
 man, not settled in any living, but employed as a private tutor in 
 Mr. Grahame of Balgowan's family, a way of life which he is not 
 fond of. "We have, therefore, set about a subscription of a guinea 
 or two guineas a-piece, in order to enable him to quit that family, 
 and undertake a mission into the Highlands, where he hopes to 
 recover more of these fragments. There is, in particular, a country 
 surgeon somewhere in Lochaber, who, he says, can recite a great 
 number of them, but never committed them to writing ; as indeed 
 the orthography of the Highland language is not fixed, and the 
 natives have always employed more the sword than the pen. This 
 surgeon has by heart the Epic poem mentioned by Mr. Macpherson 
 in his Preface ; and as he is somewhat old, and is the only person 
 living that has it entire, Ave are in the more haste to recover a 
 monument, which will certainly be regarded as a curiosity in the 
 republic of letters. 
 
 I own that my first and chief objection to the authenticity of 
 these fragments, was not on account of the noble and even tender 
 strokes which they contain; for these are the offspring of genius 
 and passion in all countries ; I was only surprised at the regular 
 plan which appears in some of these pieces, and which seems to be 
 the work of a more cultivated age. None of the specimens of bar- 
 barous poetry known to us, the Hebrew, Arabian, or any other, 
 contain this species of beauty; and if a regular epic poem, or even 
 any thing of that kind, nearly regular, should also come from that 
 rough climate or uncivilized people, it would appear to me a phe- 
 nomenon altogether unaccountable. 
 
 I remember Mr. Macpherson told me, that the heroes of this 
 Highland epic were not only, like Homer's heroes, their own 
 butchers, bakers, and cooks, but also their own shoemakers, carpen- 
 ters, and smiths. lie mentioned an incident which put this 
 matter in a remarkable light. A warrior had the head of his spear 
 struck oil' in battle ; upon which he immediately retires behind the 
 army, where a large forge was erected, makes a new one, hurries 
 back to the action, pierces his enemy, while the iron, which was 
 yet red-hot, hisses in the wound. This imagery you will allow to be 
 singular, and so well imagined, that it would have been adopted 
 by Homer, had the manners of the Greeks allowed him to have 
 employed it. 
 
 1 forgot to mention, as another proof of the authenticity of these 
 poems, and even of the reality of the adventures contained in them, 
 that the mimes of the heroes, Fingal, Oscar, Osur, Oscan, Dermid,
 
 OSS FAN'S I'OF.MS. 
 
 U): 
 
 are .-till "dven in the Highlands to lar_re mastills, in the same 
 maimer as we atlix t . them the name- of Ca-ar, I'ompoy, Hector, 
 or the French that of Marlborough. 
 
 It irives me pleasure to linil, that a person of so line a taste as 
 -Mr. (fray approve- of these fragments ; a- it mav convince us, that 
 our fondness of them i- not alto-ether founded on national prepos- 
 sessions, which, however, you know to he a little -tnm<r. The tran- 
 slation is elegant ; hut I made an objection to the author, which I 
 wi-h you would communicate to Mr. (Jrav, that we mav jud^e of 
 the justness of it. There appeared to me many verses in his prose, 
 and all of them in the same measure with Mr. Sheustone's famous; 
 ha Had : 
 
 " Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, 
 Whose flocks, never carelessly roam, i\c." 
 
 I 'ray, a-k Mr. Gray, whether he made the same remark, &c. 
 and whether he thinks it a hlemish. Voiirs most sincerely, \c.' 
 
 , >. ) 
 
 II i mi: to Dr. I'.i.aik. 
 
 /. ' ><. /.. ;- ,/,; /;,'./,-, \'Mh s.j '. 17';:;. 
 
 Di.au Sin. I live in a place where I have the pleasure of fre- 
 quently hearing justice done to your Dissertation ; hut never heard 
 ii mentioned in a company where some one person or other did not 
 express hi- doiihts with regard to the authenticity <>f the poems 
 which are it- subject ; and I often hear them totally rejected with 
 di-dain and indignation, a- a palpable and most impudent forgery. 
 This opinion has, indeed, become very prevalent unioiii; the men of 
 letter- in Loudon; and I can fore-ee, that in a lew years the poem , 
 if they continue to stand on their present footing, will he thrown 
 a-'nle, and will fall into final oblivion. It i- in vain to -a v that their 
 beauty will -upport them, independent of their authenticity. No; 
 that beauty i- not <o much to the general taste a- to ensure 3-011 of 
 
 tlii- event; and if | pie be once disgusted with the idea of a 
 
 I'oi'-cry, they are thence apt to entertain a more di-advanta-eou- 
 
 notioii of t! xcellency of the production it-elf. The ab-urd pride 
 
 and caprii I Maepher-oii himself, who scorn-, a- he pretend-, to 
 
 satisfy any body that doubt- hi- veracity, has tended much to con- 
 firm tin- general -ceptiei-111 ; and I mu-t own, for my own part, 
 that, thoudi I have had many particular rea-oii- to believe the.-e 
 poems LTenuine. more than it i- possible for any Kn-li-hninn of 
 
 i'.or.j in M.tfiz.,..-, May, i;;;i, p 
 
 VOL. 1. 
 
 *J II
 
 466 APPENDIX. 
 
 letters to have, yet I am not entirely without my scruples on that 
 head. You think that the internal proofs in favour of the poems 
 are A r ery convincing ; so they are : but there are also internal 
 reasons against them, particularly from the manners, notwithstand- 
 ing all the art with which you have endeavoured to throw a var- 
 nish on that circumstance ; and the preservation of such long and 
 such connected poems by oral tradition alone, during a course of 
 fourteen centuries, is so much out of the ordinary course of human 
 affairs, that it requires the strongest reasons to make us believe it. 
 
 My present purpose, therefore, is to apply to you, in the name of 
 all the men of letters of this, and I may say of all other countries, 
 to establish this capital point, and to give us proof that these poems 
 are, I do not say so ancient as the age of Severus, but that they 
 were not forged within these five years by James Macpherson. 
 Tliese proofs must not be arguments, but testimonies. People's 
 ears are fortified against the former : the latter may yet find their 
 way before the poems are consigned to total oblivion. Now the 
 testimonies may, in my opinion, be of two kinds. Macpherson 
 pretends that there is an ancient manuscript of part of Fingal, in 
 the family, I think, of Clanronald. Get that fact ascertained by 
 more than one person of credit; let these persons be acquainted 
 with the Gaelic ; let them compare the original and the translation ; 
 and let them testily the fidelity of the latter. But the chief point 
 in which it will be necessary for you to exert yourself, will be to 
 get positive testimony from many different hands, that such poems 
 are vulgarly recited in the Highlands, and have there long been 
 the entertainment of the people. This testimony must be as parti- 
 cular as it is positive. It will not be sufficient that a Highland 
 gentleman or clergyman say or write to you, that lie has heard 
 such poems ; nobody questions that there are traditional poems in 
 that part of the country, where the names of Ossian and Fingal, 
 and Oscar, and Gaul, are mentioned in every stanza. The only 
 doubt is, whether these poems have any farther resemblance to the 
 poems published by Macpherson. I was told by Bourke, a very 
 ingenious Irish gentleman, the author of a tract on the Sublime 
 and Beautiful, that on the first publication of Macpherson's book, 
 all the Irish cried out, We know all these poems, we have always 
 heard them from our infancy. But when he asked more particular 
 questions, he could never learn that any one had ever heard, or 
 could repeat the original of any one paragraph of the pretended 
 translation. This generality, then, must be carefully guarded 
 against, as being of no authority. 
 
 Your connexions among your brethren of the clergy, may here
 
 nSSIA.Y.S POEMS. 
 
 ho of giv.it use to y,,u. Vmi may easily Irani the names of all 
 ministers of that country, who understand the language of it : you 
 may write to them, expressing the doubts that have arisen, and 
 desiring them to send for Mich of the hard- as remain, and make 
 them rehearse their ancient poems. Let the clergymen, then, have 
 the translation in their hand-, and let them write hack to you, and 
 inform you that they heard such a one, (naming him,) living in such 
 a place, rehearse the original of such a pa-sage, from such a page 
 to Mich n page <>f the Kngli-h translation, which appeared exact 
 and faithful. If you give to the public a sufficient number of such 
 testimonies, you may prevail. I Jut I venture to foretel to you that 
 nothing less will serve the purpose ; nothing less will so much as com- 
 mand the attention of the public Hecket tells me that he is to give 
 u- a new edition of your Dissertation, accompanied with some re- 
 marks on Temora; hen.' is a favourable opportunity for you to execute 
 this purpose. You have a just and laudable zeal for the credit of 
 the-e poems ; they are, if genuine, one of the greate-t curiosities, in 
 all respects, that ever was discovered in the commonwealth of 
 letter<; and the child i-, in a manner, become yours by adoption, 
 a- Macphersoii has totally abandoned all care of it. These motive 
 call upon you to exert, yourself; and 1 think it were suitable to 
 your candour, and most satisfactory also to the reader, to publish 
 all the answers to all the letters you write, even though some of 
 these letter- shmild make somewhat ngain-i your own opinion in 
 this affair. We -hall alway- be the more assured that no arguments 
 are strained beyond their proper force, and no contrary arguments 
 suppressed, where such an entire communication i- made to us. 
 I'ecket join- me heartily in this application, and he owns to me, 
 that the believers in the authenticity of the poems diminish every 
 day among the men of sense and reflection. Nothing less than 
 what 1 propo-e, can throw the balance on the other side. I depart 
 from hence in about three weeks, and should be glad to hear your 
 resolution before that time. 
 
 Tin- journey to Paris i- likely to contribute much to my enter- 
 tainment, and will certainly tend much to improve my fortune ; so 
 that I have no reason to repent that I have allowed mv-elf to lie 
 dragged from my retreat. 1 shall henceforth conver-e with 
 author-, but shall not probably for - une time have much lei-urc to 
 peruse them ; which i- not perhaps the way of know ing them most 
 
 to their advantage. I carried only four 1 k- along with me. a 
 
 Virgil, a Horace, a Ta-so. and a Tacitus. 1 could have wished also 
 to carry my Homer, but I found him too bulky. I own that, in 
 common decency, 1 ought to have left my Horace behind 1111% and
 
 468 APPENDIX. 
 
 that I ought to bo ashamed to look him in the face. For I am 
 sensible that, at my years, no temptation would have seduced him 
 from his retreat ; nor would he ever have been induced to enter so 
 late into the path of ambition. 1 But I deny that I enter into the 
 path of ambition ; I only walk into the green fields of amusement; 
 and I affirm, that external amusement becomes more and more 
 necessary as one advances in years, and can find less supplies from 
 his own passions or imagination. I am, &c. 2 
 
 (3.) 
 Dn. Blair to Hume. 
 
 Edinburgh, 29th September, 1763. 
 Dear Sir, I am much obliged to you for the information you 
 have communicated to me, and for the concern you show that 
 justice should be done to our Highland Poems. From what I saw 
 myself when at London, I could easily believe that the disposition 
 of men of letters was rather averse to their reception as genuine ; 
 but I trusted that the internal characters of their authenticity, 
 together with the occasional testimonies given to them by Highland 
 gentlemen who are every where scattered, would gradually sur- 
 mount these prejudices. For my own part, it is impossible for me 
 to entertain the smallest doubt of their being real productions, and 
 ancient ones, too, of the Highlands. Neither Macpherson's parts, 
 though good, nor his industry, were equal to such a forgery. The 
 whole publication, you know, was in its first rise accidental. Mac- 
 pherson was entreated and dragged into it. Some of the MSS. sent 
 to him passed through my hands. Scverals of them he translated, in 
 a manner, under my eye. lie gave me these native and genuine ac- 
 counts of them, which bore plain characters of truth. What he said 
 was often confirmed to me by others. I had testimonies from several 
 Highlanders concerning their authenticity, in words strong and ex- 
 plicit. And, setting all this aside, is it a thing which any man of 
 sense can suppose, that Macpherson would venture to forge such a 
 body of poetry, and give it to the public as ancient poems and 
 songs, well known at this day through all the Highlands of Scot- 
 land, when lie could have been refuted and exposed by every one 
 of his own countrymen ? Is it credible that he could bring so 
 many thousand people into a conspiracy with him to keep his 
 secret ? or that sonic would not be found who, attached to their 
 own ancient songs, would not cry out, "These are not the poems 
 
 1 See this observation commented on by Blair, in vol. ii. p. 167. 
 " Laing's History, iv. 4%'. Report of the Highland Society on Ossian's 
 Poems.
 
 OSSIAX'S POEMS. t6J 
 
 we ilea) in. Vou have forged characters anil sentiments we know 
 nothing about ; you have modernized and dressed us up: we have 
 much better songs and poems of our own." Who but John Dull 
 could entertain the belief of an imposture so incredible as this i 
 Tin- utmost 1 should think any rational scepticism could i-uppo.se is 
 this, that Maepherson mL'ht have sometimes interpolated, or 
 endeavoured to improve, by some corrections of his own. Of this 
 I am verily persuaded there was very little, if any at all. Had it 
 prevailed, we would have been able to trace more marks of incoii- 
 :.-teiicy, and a different hand and style ; whereas, these poems are 
 more remarkable for nothing than an entire, and supported, and 
 uniform consistency of character and manner through the whole. 
 
 However, seeing we have to do with such incredulous people, I 
 think it were a pity not to do justice to such valuable monument- 
 of genius. I have already, therefore, entered upon the task you pre- 
 scribe me, though 1 foresee it may -ive me some trouble. 1 have 
 writ by last post to Sir James Macdonald. who is fortunately at 
 tlii- time in the Isle of Skye. I have also, throu-_di the Laird of 
 Maeleod, writ to Clunroiiald, and likewise to two clergymen in the 
 I le of Skve, men of letters and character; one of them, Macpher- 
 mui mini-tor of Sleat, the author of a verv learned work about to 
 be published conccrnim: the Antiquities of Scotland. Several 
 other- in Argvle.-hire. the I.-Iands, and other poetical region-, 
 worthy clergymen, who are well versed in the ( iaelic, I intend al-o 
 u ithoiit dehiv to make applicat ion to. 
 
 My rei|ui>ition to them all i- for -ueh positive and ex pro.- te I i- 
 nnuiies a- you de.-ire ; MSS. if thev have anv, compared before 
 \\ itni'-ses with the printed bonk, and recitations nf bards compared 
 in the .-a i ne manner. I have Lcivon them express directions in w hat 
 manner to proceed, so ;i- to avoid that loo>e generality which, a- 
 von observe, can signify nothing. What u-e it may be proper to 
 put the-e testimonies to, I can only judge after having got all my 
 material-. I apprehend there may be some diliieultv in obtaining 
 the coii.-eiit ol tlm-e concerned to puhli.-h their letter.-, imr nii 
 it he proper, lmt c ncernim: thi-. I may afterward- : i 1 \ i - v,i,!i 
 vmi and in v other friend -. 
 
 In the meantime, ymi mav plea-e acquaint Mr. Hoekct, iha' 
 this inn -t retard tor .-nine time the publication of hi- new edition 
 with mv 1 )i.--ei'iatioii ; a- the lea-t I can allow f r the return of 
 letter- from .-ikm d: taut part-, where the .iiini mical'mii by po : 
 i- irregular and -low, together with the time neees-arv for their 
 executin : what i- de-ired. \\ ill he three month-, perhu'i -nine more :
 
 470 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 and, assuredly, any new evidence we can give the world, must 
 accompany my Dissertation. 
 
 I am in some difficulty with Macpherson himself in this affair. 
 Capricious as he is, I would not willingly hurt or disohlige him ; and 
 yet I apprehend that such an inquiry as this, which is like tracing 
 him out, and supposing his veracity called in question, will not 
 please him. I must write him by next post, and endeavour to put 
 the affair in such a light as to soften him ; which you, if you see 
 him, may do likewise, and show him the necessity of something 
 of this kind being done ; and with more propriety, perhaps, by 
 another than himself. 1 
 
 (40 
 Hume to Dr. Blair. 
 
 6th October, 1763. 
 
 My dear Sir, I am very glad you have undertaken the task 
 which I used the freedom to recommend to you. Nothing less than 
 what you propose will serve the purpose. You need expect no 
 assistance from Macpherson, who flew into a passion when I told 
 him of the letter I had wrote to you. But you must not mind so 
 strange and heteroclitc a mortal, than whom I have scarce ever 
 known a man more perverse and unamiable. He will probably 
 depart for Florida with governor Johnstone, and I would advise 
 him to travel among the Chickisaws or Cherokees, in order to tame 
 him and civilize him. 
 
 I should be much pleased to hear of the success of your labours, 
 Your method of directing to me is under cover to the Earl of 
 Hertford, Northumberland House ; any letters that come to me 
 under that direction, will be sent over to me at Paris. 
 
 I beg my compliments to Robertson and Jardine. I am very 
 sorry to hear of the state of Ferguson's health. John Hume went 
 to the country yesterday with Lord Bute. I was introduced the 
 other day to that noble lord, at his desire. I believe him a very 
 good man, a better man than a politician. 
 
 Since writing the above, I have been in company with Mrs. 
 Montague, a lady of great distinction in this place, and a zealous 
 partisan of Ossian. I told her of your intention, and even used the 
 freedom to read your letter to her. She was extremely pleased 
 with your project ; and the rather as the Due de Nivernois, she 
 said, had talked to her much on that subject last winter, and 
 
 1 MS. It.S.E.
 
 OSSIAN'S I'OEMS. 
 
 in 
 
 desired, if (hi- ible. tn got collected .-. .1110 proof- of the authenticity 
 of these poems, which he proposed to lay before the Academic des. 
 Itullcs Lottres :tt Paris. You sec, then, that you are upon a irroat 
 stagu in this iiiijniry, and that many people have their eve- upon 
 you. This is a new motive for rendering voitr proof- a- complete 
 a> possible. 1 cannot conceive anv objection, which a man, even 
 of the gravest character, could have to your pnhlication of his 
 letters, which will only attest a plain fact known to him. Such 
 scruples, it they occur, von must endeavour to remove, lor on 
 tin- trial of yours will the judgment of the puhlic linallv depend. 
 
 Lord Math, who was in the coinpanv, agreed with me, that 
 such documents of authenticity are entirely neeessarv and indi-pen- 
 ahle. 
 
 Please to write to me as -non as you make anv advances, that 
 1 may have something to say on the subject to the literati of 
 Paris. 1 beg my compliments to all those who hear that character 
 at Edinburgh. J cannot hut look upon all of them a- mv friend-. 
 J am. \c' 
 
 i- -ay on Tin: i;i:mini.m:ss or Tin: l'or.Ms. 3 
 
 1 think the t'ate of thi- production the most curioii- oiled of pre- 
 judice, win-re .-uper-tit ion had no -hare, that ever was in the world. 
 A tire-mile, in-ipid performance : w loch, if it had been pro-en ted in 
 
 al form, a- the work "fa contemporary, an obscure Highlander, 
 110 man could ever have hud the patience to have once perused, has, 
 bv pa ing for the poetrv of a roval hard, who llniiri-hed fifteen 
 centime- ;i'_'n. been universally read, ha- been prettv generally :nl- 
 mired. and ha- been translated, in pi..-' and ver-e. into several 
 lauiriKi^e- ..f Europe. Even tin- style of the supposed English 
 tran-latioii ha- born admired, though har-h and ab-unl in the highest 
 degree ; j inn j u ii_' ] 'crj 't ua 1 1 v from vor-e to pri.-i', and from prose 
 to verse : and running, nio-t of it. mi the light cadence and measure 
 of Mollv Molt. Such i- the Er-e epic, which lia- heen pulled with 
 a zeal and enthusiasm that has drawn a ridicule mi my country- 
 men. 
 
 Hut. to cut oil' at once the who!,' source of its reputation. 1 shall 
 
 I.aini:*- History, iv. aim. Report of tin- Hidihiol - 
 Sec this ittcrri'il to in Vol. 1 1., j>. ! ',.
 
 472 APPENDIX. 
 
 collect a few very obvious arguments against the notion of its great 
 antiquity, with which so many people have been intoxicated, and 
 which alone made it worthy of any attention. 
 
 (I.) The very manner in which it was presented to the public 
 forms a strong presumption against its authenticity. The pretend- 
 ed translator goes on a mission to the Highlands to recover and 
 collect a work, which, he affirmed, was dispersed, in fragments, 
 among the natives. He returns, and gives a quarto volume, and 
 then another quarto, with the same unsupported assurance as if it 
 were a translation of the Orlando Furioso, or Lousiadc, or any 
 poem the best known in Europe. It might have been expected, at 
 least, that he would have told the public, and the subscribers to 
 his mission, and the purchasers of his book, This part I got from 
 such a person, in such a place; that other part, from such another 
 person. I was enabled to correct my first copy of such a passage 
 by the recital of such another person ; a fourth supplied such a 
 defect in my first copy. By such a history of his gradual discoveries 
 he would have given some face of probability to them. Any man 
 of common sense, who was in earnest, must, in this case, have seen 
 the peculiar necessity of that precaution any man that had 
 regard to his own character, would have anxiously followed that 
 obvious and easy method. All the friends of the pretended trans- 
 lator exhorted and entreated him to give them and the public that 
 satisfaction. No ! those who could doubt his veracity were fools, 
 whom it was not worth while to satisfy. The most incredible of 
 all facts was to be taken on his word, whom nobody knew ; and an 
 experiment was to be made, I suppose in jest, how far the credu- 
 lity of the public would give way to assurance and dogmatical 
 affirmation. 
 
 (2.) But, to show the utter incredibility of tlie fact, let these 
 following considerations be weighed, or, rather, simply rellected 
 on ; for it seems ridiculous to weigh them. Consider the size of 
 these poems. What is given us is asserted to be only a part of a 
 much greater collection ; yet even these pieces amount to two 
 quartos. And they were composed, you say, in the Highlands, 
 about fifteen centuries ago ; and have been faithfully transmitted, 
 ever since, by oral tradition, through ages totally ignorant of letters, 
 by the rudest, perhaps, of all the European nations; the most 
 necessitous, the most turbulent, the most ferocious, and the most 
 unsettled. Did ever any event happen that approached within a 
 hundred degrees of this mighty wonder, even to the nations the 
 most fortunate in their climate and situation? Can a ballad be 
 shown that has passed, uncorruptcd, by oral tradition, through
 
 OSSIAN'b POEMS. 
 
 it O 
 
 three generations, among the Greeks, or Italian-, nr Phumicians, or 
 Egyptians, or even among the natives of such countries a- Otalieito 
 or Molucca, who seem exempted by nature from all attention but 
 to amusement, to poetrv, and music ' 
 
 But the Celtic nation.-', it i* said, had peculiar advantages for pre- 
 serving their traditional poetry. The Iri>h, the WeLh, the Breton-, 
 are all C.Vltie nations, much better entitled than the Highlanders, 
 from their soil, and climate, and situation, to have leisure for the-e 
 amusements. They, accordingly, present us, not with complete 
 epic and historical poems, (for thev never had the assurance to :>< 
 that length,) but with very copious ami circumstantial tradition-, 
 which are allow.'.!, bv all men of sense, to be scandalous and ridi- 
 culous impo.-tures. 
 
 (.'>.) The style and genius of tlie.-e pretended poems are another 
 suilicient proof of the imposition. The Lapland and Runic ode-. 
 conveyed to us, besides their small compass, have a savage rudene.-.-, 
 and sometimes grandeur, suited to those aire-. Hut this Erse poetry 
 has an insipid correctness, and regularity, and uniformity, which 
 betrays a man without genius, that has been acquainted with the. 
 productions of civilized nations, and had his imagination so limited 
 to that tract, that it wa- impo-.-ible for him even to mimic the cha- 
 racter which lie pretended to a-.-ume. 
 
 The manner- are .-till a more striking proof of their want of 
 authenticity. We see nothing but the affected generosity and 
 gallantry of chivalry, which are ipiite unknown, not only to all 
 savage people, but to every nation not trained in these artificial 
 mode- of thinking. In Homer, for instance, and Vir/il, and 
 A riosto, the heroes are represented a- making a nocturnal incur- 
 sion into the camp of the enemy. 1 lomer and Virgil, who certainly 
 were educated in much more civilized ages than those of < ).--ian, 
 make no scruple of representing their heroes as commit tin:: undi-t in- 
 Lriii.-hed -laughter on the sleeping foe. Hut Orlando walk> ijuietlv 
 1 1 1 1". > ; i _: 1 1 the camp of the Saracoii.-, and .-corn- to kill e\en an in tide 1 
 w ho cannot defend himself. ( iaul and < Near are knight -errant.-, -till 
 more romantic : thev make a imi-e in the mid.- 1 of the en em v'.- camp, 
 that they mav waki n them, and thereby have a n_'h; to li^lit with 
 them and to kill them. Nay. I'imral i-arrie.- hi.- id. a- of chi\ airy 
 .-I ill farther; much beyond what w a- e\ er dreamt ol by Ama.li- <le 
 (iaul or Lancelot de Lake. Winn hi- territory i- iinadod. le 
 scorn- to repel the enemy with hi- whole force; he .- end- oiilv an 
 euual number airain.-t thorn, under an interior captain : w In n the- c 
 are repul-ed. he -end a . cmd iletachment ; and it i- not till after 
 a double defeat, that he dei-n him-elf t > de.-cend from the hill.
 
 474 APPENDIX. 
 
 where lie Lad remained, all the while, an idle spectator, and to 
 attack the enemy. Fingal and Swaran combat each other all day, 
 with the greatest fury. When darkness suspends the fight, they 
 feast together with the greatest amity, and then renew the combat 
 with the return of light. Are these the manners of barbarous 
 nations, or even of people that have common sense ? We may 
 remark, that all this narrative is supposed to be given us by a 
 contemporary poet. The facts, therefore, must be supposed entirely, 
 or nearly, conformable to truth. The gallantry and extreme deli- 
 cacy towards the women, which is found in these productions, is, if 
 possible, still more contrary to the manners of barbarians. Among 
 all rude nations, force and courage are the predominant virtues ; 
 and the inferiority of the females, in these particulars, renders them 
 an object of contempt, not of deference and regard. 
 
 (4.) But I derive a new argument against the antiquity of these 
 poems, from the general tenor of the narrative. Where manners 
 are represented in them, probability, or even possibility, are totally 
 disregarded : but in all other respects, the events are within the 
 course of nature ; no giants, no monsters, no magic, no incredible 
 feats of strength or activity. Every transaction is conformable to 
 familiar experience, and scarcely even deserves the name of won- 
 derful. Did this ever happen in ancient and barbarous poetry ? 
 Why is this characteristic wanting, so essential to rude and igno- 
 rant ages ? Ossian, you say, was singing the exploits of his 
 contemporaries, and therefore could not falsify them in any great 
 degree. But if this had been a restraint, your pretended Ossian 
 had never sung the exploits of his contemporaries ; he had gone 
 back a generation or two, which would have been sufficient to 
 throw an entire obscurity on the events ; and he would thereby 
 have attained the marvellous, which is alone striking to barbarians. 
 I desire it may be observed, that manners are the only circum- 
 stances which a rude people cannot falsify ; because they have no 
 notion of any manners beside their own : but it is easy for them 
 to let loose their imagination, and violate the course of nature, in 
 every other particular ; and indeed they take no pleasure in any 
 other kind of narrative. In Ossian, nature is violated, where alone 
 she ought to have been preserved ; is preserved where alone she 
 ought to have been violated. 
 
 (.'>.) But there is another species of the marvellous, wanting in 
 Ossian, which is inseparable from all nations, civilized as well as 
 barbarous, but still more, if possible, from the barbarous, and that 
 is religion; no religious sentiment in this Erse poetry. All those 
 Celtic heroes are more complete atheists than ever were bred in the
 
 OSSIAVS POEMS. 
 
 47 
 
 school of Epicurus. To account for (his singularity, we are tohl 
 (hat a few generations before Ossian, the people quarrelled with 
 their Druidical priest.-, anil having expelled them, never afterwards 
 adopted any other species of religion. It is not quite unnatural, 
 I own. for the people to cpiarrel with their priests, a- we did with 
 ours at tin- Reformation ; hut we attached our-elves with fresh 
 zeal to our new preachers' ami new system; and this passion 
 increased in proportion to our hatred id' the old. But I suppo.se the 
 reason of this strange absurdity in our new Erse poetry, is, that 
 the author, finding by the assumed age of his heroes, that he inu.-t 
 have given them the Druidical religion, and not trusting to his 
 literature, (which seems indeed to lie very -lender) for making the 
 representations consistent with antiquity, thought it safest to give 
 them no religion at all ; a circumstance so wonderfully unnatural, 
 that it is sullicient alone, if men had eves, to detect the imposition, 
 (fi.) The state of the arts, a- represented in those poems, is 
 totallv incompatible with the age assigned to them. We know, 
 that the houses even of the Southern Briton.-, till conquered by the 
 Uouians, were nothing but huts erected in the woods ; but a stately 
 stone building is mentioned by ( >-.-ian. of which the walls remain, 
 alter it is consumed with lire. The melancholy circumstance of a 
 fox is described, who looks out at the windows; an image, if I In" 
 not mistaken, borrowed from the Scriptures. The Caledonians, as- 
 well as the Iri-h, had no shipping but currachs, or wicker boats 
 covered with bide-: yet are thev represented as passing, in great 
 military expedition-, from the Hebrides to Denmark, Norway, and 
 Sweden ; a uio.-i glaring absurdity. They live entirely by hunting, 
 \et niu-ter armies, winch make incursions to the-e countries as 
 well a- to Inland: though it is certain from the experience of 
 America, that the whole Highland- would scarce subsist a hundred 
 persons by hunting. They are totally unacquainted with fishing; 
 though that occupation first tempts all rude nation.- to venture on 
 the sea. ( >s.-iau alludes to a wind or water-mill, a machine then 
 unknown to the (J recks and Ivoinans, according to the opinion of 
 the be-t antiquaries. [lis barbarian-, though ignorant of tillage, 
 are well acquainted with the method of working all kind- of 
 metal-. The harp i- the mu-ical iu-trunient of ( >-dan ; but the 
 bagpipe, from tune immemorial, ha- been the instrument of (he 
 Highlander-. If ever the harp had been known among them, it 
 never had given place to the other barbarous discord. 
 
 Striilt'iiti nii-cruiii -tipuhi <li-penhre carmen. 
 (7.) All the historical facts of tin- poem are opposed by tradi-
 
 476 APPENDIX. 
 
 tions, which, if all thcso talcs he not equally contemptible, seem to 
 merit much more attention. The Irish Scoti are the undoubted 
 ancestors of the present Highlanders, who are hut a small colony 
 of that ancient people. But the Irish traditions make Fingal, 
 Ossian, Oscar, all Irishmen, and place them some centuries distant 
 from the Erse heroes. They represent them as giants, and mon- 
 sters, and enchanters, a sure mark of a considerable antiquity of 
 these traditions. I ask the partisans of Erse poetry, since the 
 names of these heroes have crept over to Ireland, and have become 
 quite familiar to the natives of that country, how it happens, that 
 not a line of this poetry, in which they are all celebrated, which, it 
 is pretended, alone preserves their memory with our Highlanders, 
 and which is composed by one of these heroes themselves in the 
 Irish language, ever found its way thither ? The songs and tra- 
 ditions of the Senachies, the genuine poetry of the Irish, carry in 
 their rudeness and absurdity the inseparable attendants of barba- 
 rism, a very different aspect from the insipid correctness of Ossian ; 
 where the incidents, if you will pardon the antithesis, are the most 
 unnatural, merely because they are natural. The same observation 
 extends to the Welsh, another Celtic nation. 
 
 (8.) The fiction of these poems is, if possible, still more palpably 
 detected, by the great numbers of other traditions, which, the 
 author pretends, are still fresh in the Highlands, with regard to all 
 the personages. The poems, composed in the age of Truthil and 
 Cormac, ancestors of Ossian, are, he says, full of complaints against 
 the roguery and tyranny of the Druids. He talks as familiarly of 
 the poetry of that period as Lucian or Longinus would of the Greek 
 poetry of the Socratic age. I suppose here is a new rich mine 
 of poetry ready to break out upon us, if the author thinks it can 
 turn to account. For probably he does not mind the danger of 
 detection, which he has little reason to apprehend from his expe- 
 rience of the public credulity. But I shall venture to assert, without 
 any reserve or further inquiry, that there is no Highlander who is 
 not, in some degree, a man of letters, that ever so much as heard 
 there was a Druid in the world. The margin of every page almost 
 of this wonderful production is siq)portcd, as he ju'etends, by minute 
 oral traditions with regard to the personages. To the poem of 
 ] )ar-thula, there is prefixed a long account of the pedigree, marriages, 
 and adventures of three brothers, Nathos, Althos, and Ardan, 
 heroes that lived fifteen hundred years ago in Argyleshiro, and 
 whose memory, it seems, is still celebrated there, and in every pur! 
 of the Highlands. How ridiculous to advance such a pretension 
 to the learned, who know that there is no tradition of Alexander
 
 OSSIAN'S POEMS. 
 
 477 
 
 the groat all over tlio East ; that the Turks, who have hoard <-f 
 liim from their communioation with the Creeks, believe him to have 
 hoon the captain of Solomon's guanl ; that the (J rook ami Roman 
 
 story, tin' moment it departs from the historical ages, hi mes a 
 
 heap >f fiction and absurdity; that Cyrus himself, the conqueror of 
 the Hast, became so much unknown, even in little more than half 
 a century, that Herodotus himself, horn and bred in Asia, within 
 the limits of the Persian empire, could tell nothing of him, more 
 than of Croesus, the contemporary of Cyrus, and who reigned in 
 the neighbourhood of the historian, but the most ridiculous fables; 
 and that the grandfather of Hcngist ami Llorsa, the first Saxon 
 conquerors, was conceived to be a divinity. I suppose it is sulli- 
 eiently evident, that without the help of books and history, the 
 very name of Julius Cii'sar would at present be totally unknown in 
 Europe. A gentleman, who travelled into Italy, told me, that iu 
 visiting F reseat i or Tusculum, his cicerone showed him the foun- 
 dation and ruins of Cicero's country house, lie asked the fellow 
 who this Cicero might bo, t; l'n grandissimo gigante," said he. 
 
 (.').) I a-k, since the memory of Fiugal and his ancestors and 
 descendants is still so fresh in the Highlands, how it happens, that 
 none of the compilers of the Scotch fabulous history over laid hold 
 of them, and inserted them in the list of our ancient monarch-, but 
 were obliged to have recourse to direct fiction and lying to make 
 out their genealogies? It is to be remarked, that the Highlanders, 
 who are now but an inferior part of the nation, anciently composed 
 the whole ; so that no tradition of their- could be unknown to the 
 court, the nobility, and the whole kingdom. Where, thru, have 
 these wonderful traditions skulked during so many centuries, tliat 
 they have never come to light till yesterday '. And t ho \ cry name- of 
 our ancient king- are unknown ; though it i- pretended, that 
 a very particular narrative of their transactions was still 
 pre.-orved. and universally diffused anion:: a numerous tribe, 
 who are the original stem of the nation. Father Innes, the 
 only judicious writer that ever touched our ancient hi-tory, 
 finds in monastic records the name-, and little more than the 
 names, of kings from Feigns, whom we call Fergus the Second, 
 win) lived long after the -apposed Fingal : and he thence begins 
 the true hi.-tory of the nation, lie had too good sen.-e to give any 
 attention to pretended tradition- even of king-, much less would he 
 have believed that the memory and adventures of every leader of 
 banditti in every valley of the Highlands, could bo circumstantially 
 preserved by oral tradition through more than fifteen centuries. 
 
 (10.) 1 shall oh.-erve. that the character of the author, from all
 
 478 APPENDIX. 
 
 his publications, (for I shall mention nothing else,) gives us the 
 greatest reason to suspect him of such a ludicrous imposition on the 
 public. For to be sure it is only ludicrous ; or at most a trial of 
 wit, like that of the sophist, who gave us Phalaris' Epistles, or of 
 him that counterfeited Cicero's Consolation, or supplied the fragments 
 of Petronius. These literary amusements have been very common ; 
 and unless supported by too violent asseverations, or persisted in 
 too long, never drew the opprobrious appellation of impostor on 
 the author. 
 
 He writes an ancient history of Britain, which is plainly ludi- 
 crous. He gives us a long circumstantial history of the emigrations 
 of the Belgae, Cimbri, and Sannatac, so unsupported by any author 
 of antiquity that nothing but a particular revelation could warrant 
 it ; and yet it is delivered with such seeming confidence, (for we 
 must not think he was in earnest,) that the history of the Punic 
 wars is not related with greater seriousness by Livy. lie has even 
 left palpable contradictions in his narrative, in order to try the faith 
 of his reader. lie tells us, for instance, that the present inhabitants 
 of Germany have no more connexion with the Germans mentioned 
 by Tacitus, than with the ancient inhabitants of Peloponnesus : the 
 Saxons and Angles, in particular, were all Sarmatians, a quite differ- 
 ent tribe from the Germans, in manners, laws, language, and cus- 
 toms. Yet a few pages after, when he pretends to deliver the 
 origin of the Anglo-Saxon constitution, he professedly derives the 
 whole account from Tacitus. All this was only an experiment to 
 see how far the force of affirmation could impose on the credulity 
 of the public : but it did not succeed ; he was here in the open day- 
 light of Greek and Roman erudition, not in the obscurity of his 
 Erse poetry and traditions. Finding the style of his Ossian ad- 
 mired by some, he attempts a translation of Homer in the very 
 same style- He begins and finishes, in six weeks, a work that was 
 for ever to eclipse the translation of Pope, whom he does not even 
 deign to mention in his preface ; but this joke was still more un- 
 successful : he made a shift, however, to bring the work to a second 
 edition, where he says, that, notwithstanding all the envy of his 
 malignant opponents, his name alone will preserve the work to a 
 more equitable posterity ! 
 
 In short, let him now take oil' the mask, and fairly and openly 
 laugh at the credulity of the public, who could believe that long 
 Erse epics had been secretly preserved in the Highlands of Scot- 
 land, from the age of Severus till his time. 
 
 The imposition is so gross, that he may well ask the world how 
 they could ever possibly believe him to be in earnest ?
 
 OSSIAN'S POEMS. 
 
 479 
 
 But it may rca-onahly ho expected that I should mention the 
 external positive evidence, which is brought by Dr. Blair to sup- 
 port the authenticity of these poems. I own, that this evidence, 
 considered in itself, is very respectable, and sntiicicnt to support 
 any fact, that both lie* within the bound- of credibility, and has 
 not become a matter of part v. But will any man pretend to bring 
 human testimony to prove, that above twenty thousand verses have 
 been transmitted, by tradition and memory, during more than 
 fifteen hundred years; that is, above fifty generations, according to 
 the ordinary course of nature^ verses, too, which have not, in their 
 
 subject, any thing alluring or inviting to the [ pie, no miracle, no 
 
 wonders, no superstitions, no useful infraction ; a people, too, who, 
 during twelve centuries, at least, of that period, had no writing, no 
 alphabet ; and who, even in the other three centuries, made very 
 little use of that imperfect alphabet for any purpose ; a people who, 
 from the miserable disadvantages of their soil and climate, were 
 perpetually struggling with the greatest necessities of nature; \vh >, 
 from the imperfections of government, lived in a continual state ot 
 internal hostility; ever harassed with the incursions of neighbour- 
 ing tribes, or meditating revenue, and retaliation on their neigh- 
 bours. Have such a people leisure to think of any poetry, except. 
 perhaps, a miserable song or ballad, in praise of their own chieftain, 
 or to the disparagement of his rivals . / 
 
 I should be sorry to be suspected of saying any thing against 
 the manner- of the present Highlanders. I really believe that. 
 besides their signal bravery, there is not any people in 1'urope. not 
 even excepting the Swiss, who have more plain honesty and fide- 
 lity, are more capable of gratitude and attachment, than that race 
 of men. Yet it was, no doubt, a great surprise to them to hear 
 that, over and above their known good ipialities, they were also 
 possessed of an excellence which they never dreamt of, an elegant 
 taste in poetry, and inherited from the most remote unthpiitv the 
 finest compositions of thai kind, far surpassing the popular trail i 
 tioiial poems of any other language; no wonder they crowded to 
 give testimony in favour id' their authenticity. Mu-i of them, no 
 doubt, were sincere in the delusion ; the same name- that were to 
 be found in their popular ballads were carefully preserved in the 
 new publication; some incident-, too, were perhap- transferred 
 from the one to the other ; some sentiment- al-o might be copied ; 
 and. on the whole, they were willing to believe, and still more 
 willing to persuade other-, that the whole was genuine. < )n such 
 occasions, the greatest cloud of witnesses makes no manner of evi- 
 dence. What Jan-enist was there in Paris, which contain- several
 
 480 APPENDIX. 
 
 thousands, that would not have given evidence for the miracles of 
 Abbe Paris ? The miracle is greater, but not the evidence, with re- 
 gard to the authenticity of Ossian. 
 
 The late President Forbes was a great believer in the second 
 sight ; and I make no question but he could, on a month's warning, 
 have overpowered you with evidence in its favour. But as finite 
 added to finite never approaches a hair'sbreadth nearer to infinite ; 
 so a fact incredible in itself, acquires not the smallest accession of 
 probability by the accumulation of testimony. 
 
 The only real wonder in the whole affair is, that a person of so 
 fine a taste as Dr. Blair, should be so great an admirer of these 
 productions ; and one of so clear and cool a judgment collect evi- 
 dence of their authenticity. 
 
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