>% f * % -^T*a THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES FROM THE LIBRARY OF FRANK J. KLINGBERG ^EjflraT^iiB BttIhI i f^S^^T jt' t wT jml .. fl&^ k? Jft.'*^. 7" dk* " > 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 '/'//< 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 )( 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^: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 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--!lf 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 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 (! 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<( 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' 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 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 . ;. < 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 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 tk- 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- 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 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 ar> \ a>i. " \ !>< a- ali, i' in u -t he fon fi 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 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: 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 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 \R[ii;>po.\ir..\ri: with iio.mk. (;; imperfections as possible 1 have been here near throe months, always within a week 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. 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 uhould 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:[' 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?-/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 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-: 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 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 'ir. 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<.iJux JJrit*i)inic-, 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 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:. _ 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 olook 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- 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 , 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 lonf 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 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 latranee. 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 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. 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. / 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 /> 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 \ . 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->"-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- ; . 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 hat 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 lijhaii 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\ ] |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 !'. 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 ' ('.. 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, 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 < _'_>. ].. 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 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 rcean, 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; , 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 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: ->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 ( >,--~\, ; 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 co'' 1 ; ' i : 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>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 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-.\ 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 ( > ; 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 ]' . ; ' 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- 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'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 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 hraw Palla- nth-ring liim a spnnl, I In' Lemnian L r >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\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 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. \ 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 ocne 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 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>inf 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 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 ,;,;, 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 " 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!' 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 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 aa 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!,-. ,\, 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 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 ..'''';'.<' .. ,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 > , _ 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 \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 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 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- 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>, . ,-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'atif. 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 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 -.)- 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 -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 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- Ae-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 er. ( 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 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 - 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 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 ; 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 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 .- 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 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:>. 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 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. .' ./.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 deelarei{. ( '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 ./>''/// 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 \<'( 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 ?;? cci- 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. <'. 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 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:\:; 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 ,/ , 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 M1- 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-| ;.. trv ..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.~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'>. :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 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 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, .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 liaf 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'-.rt an<' wa- confined merely I" a di-app. lint an nt. without anv 1"-- or uuy 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 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 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 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 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 >!. - 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. ) 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 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- 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 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. END OF VOL. I. EDINBURGH Printed by William Tait, Kt7, l'rince'a Street. University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. UCLA-College Library B 1497B95V.1 A ^4 i Sfck> ^JP " ?& *4