In 1734, the persuasions
of his friends induced Mr Hume to attempt the bettering of his income by
entering into business, and he established himself in the office of a
respectable merchant in Bristol; but the man who had rejected the study
of the law, was not likely to be fascinated by the bustle of commerce,
and probably in opposition to the best hopes and wishes of his friends,
in a few months he relinquished his situation, and spent some years in
literary retirement in France, living first at Rheims, and afterwards at
La Fleche in Anjeau. "I there," he says, "laid that plan of life which I
have steadily and successfully pursued. I resolved to make a very rigid
frugality supply my deficiency of fortune, to maintain unimpaired my
independency, and to regard every object as contemptible, except the
improvement of my talents in literature;" and with the consistency of a
calm and firm mind, he kept his resolution. For some time previous to
this period, Hume must have been gradually collecting that vast mass of
observation and reflection which he employed himself during his
retirement in digesting into the celebrated Treatise on Human Nature. In
1737, he had finished the first two volumes of this work, and he then
returned to London to superintend their publication. From this date
commenced the earliest traces of that literary and social correspondence
which furnishes many of the most characteristic commentaries on the
mental habits of the philosopher. With Henry Home, afterwards lord
Kames, a near neighbour of the family of Ninewells, and probably a
connexion of the philosopher (for he was the first member of the
family who adopted the name of Hume, in preference to the family
name Home,) he contracted an early friendship, and a similarity
of pursuits continued the intercourse. To that gentleman we find the
subject of our memoir writing in the following terms, in December, 1737:
"I have been here near three months, always within a week of agreeing
with my printers: and you may imagine I did not forget the work itself
during that time, when I began to feel some passages weaker for the
style and diction than I could have wished. The nearness and greatness
of the event roused up my attention, and made me more difficult to
please than when I was alone in perfect tranquillity in France." The
remaining portion of this communication, though given in the usual
placid and playful manner of the author, tells a painful tale of the
difficulties he had to encounter, and of hope deferred. "But here," he
says, "I must tell you one of my foibles. I have a great inclination to
go down to Scotland this spring to see my friends, and have your advice
concerning my philosophical discoveries: but cannot overcome a
certain shame-facedness I have to appear among you at my years without
having got a settlement, or so much as attempted any. How happens it,
that we philosophers cannot as heartily despise the world as it despises
us? I think in my conscience the contempt were as well founded on our
side as on the other." With this letter Mr Hume transmitted to his
friend a manuscript of his Essay on Miracles, a work which he at that
period declined publishing along with his other productions, looking on
it as more likely to give offence, from the greater reference of its
reasonings to revealed religion.
Towards the termination
of the year 1738, Hume published his "Treatise of Human Nature; being an
attempt to introduce the experimental method of reasoning into moral
subjects." The fundamental principles on which the whole philosophy of
this work is reared, discover themselves on reading the first page, in
the division of all perceptions--in other words, of all the materials of
knowledge which come within the comprehension of the human mind,--into
impressions and ideas. Differing from almost all men who, using other
terms, had discussed the same subject, he considered these two methods
of acquiring knowledge, to differ, not in quality, but merely in degree;
because by an observation of the qualities of the mind, on the principle
of granting nothing which could not be demonstrated, he could find no
real ground of distinction, excepting that the one set of perceptions
was always of a more vivid description than the other. The existence of
impressions he looked on as prior in the mind to the existence of
ideas, the latter being merely dependent on, or reflected from
the former, which were the first inlets of all knowledge. Among
perceptions he considered the various methods by which the senses
make the mind acquainted with the external world, and along with these,
by a classification which might have admitted a better arrangement, he
ranked the passions, which he had afterwards to divide into those
which were the direct consequents of the operations of the senses, as
pain and pleasure, and those which the repetition of
impressions, or some other means, had converted into concomitants, or
qualifications of the mind, as hatred, joy, pride, &c. By
ideas, Mr Hume understood those arrangements of the perceptions
formed in the mind by reasoning: or imagination; and
although he has maintained the distinction between these and the
impressions of the senses to be merely in degree, all that has been
either blamed or praised in his philosophy is founded on the use he
makes of this distinction. He has been accused, and not without justice,
of confusion in his general arrangement, and disconnexion in the
subjects he has discussed as allied to each other; but a careful peruser
of his works will find the division of subject we have just attempted to
explain, to pervade the whole of his extraordinary investigations, and
never to be departed from, where language allows him to adhere to it.
The ideas, or more faint perceptions, are made by the
author to be completely dependent on the impression, showing that
there can be no given idea at any time in the mind, to which
there has not been a corresponding impression conveyed through
the organs of sense. These ideas once existing in the mind, are
subjected to the operation of the memory, and form the substance of our
thoughts, and a portion of the motives of our actions. Thus, at any
given moment, there are in the mind two distinct sources of knowledge,
(or of what is generally called knowledge,)--the impressions which the
mind is receiving from surrounding objects through the senses, and the
thoughts, which pass through the mind, modified and arranged from such
impressions, previously experienced and stored up. Locke, in his
arguments against the existence of innate ideas, and Dr Berkeley, when
he tried to show that the mind could contain no abstract ideas, (or
ideas not connected with anything which the mind had experienced,)
had formed the outline of a similar division of knowledge; but neither
of them founded on such a distinction, a system of philosophy, nor were
they, it may be well conceived, aware of the extent to which the
principles they suggested might be logically carried. The division we
have endeavoured to define, is the foundation of the sceptical
philosophy. The knowledge immediately derived from impressions is
that which truly admits the term "knowledge" to be strictly applied to
it; that which is founded on experience, derived from previous
impressions, is something which always admits of doubt. While the
former are always certain, the mind being unable to conceive their
uncertainty, the latter may not only be conceived to be false, but are
so much the mere subjects of probability, that there are distinctions in
the force which the mind attributes to them—sometimes admitting them to
be doubtful, and making no more distinction, except in the greater
amount of probabilities betwixt that which it pronounces doubtful, and
that which it pronounces certain. As an instance—when a man looks upon
another man, and hears him speak, he receives through the senses of
hearing and sight, certain impressions, the existence of which he cannot
doubt; on that man, however, being no longer the object of his senses,
the impressions are arranged in his mind in a reflex form, constituting
what Mr Hume has called ideas; and although he may at first be convinced
in a manner sufficiently strong for all practical purposes, that he has
actually seen and heard such a man, the knowledge he has is only a mass
of probabilities, which not only admit him to conceive it a possibility
that he may not have met such a man, but actually decay by
degrees, so as probably after a considerable period to lapse into
uncertainty, while no better line of distinction can be drawn betwixt
the certainty and the uncertainty, than that the one is produced by a
greater mass of probabilities than the other. The author would have been
inconsistent, had he admitted the reception of knowledge of an external
world, even through the medium of the senses: he maintained all that the
mind had really cognizance of, to be the perceptions themselves;
there was no method of ascertaining with certainty what caused them. The
human mind, then, is thus discovered to be nothing but a series of
perceptions, of which some sets have such a resemblance to each other,
that we always naturally arrange them together in our thoughts. Our
consciousness of the identity of any given individual, is merely a
series of perceptions so similar, that the mind glides along them
without observation. A man’s consciousness of his own identity, is a
similar series of impressions. "The mind," says the author, "is a kind
of theatre, where several perceptions successively make their
appearance—pass, repass, glide away, and mingle in an infinite variety
of postures and situations. There is properly no simplicity in it
at one time, nor identity in different, whatever natural
propension we may have to imagine that simplicity and identity. The
comparison of the theatre must not mislead us. They are the successive
perceptions only that constitute the mind; nor have we the most distant
notion of the place where these scenes are represented, or of the
materials of which it is composed." [Works, (1826), i. 322.] From such a
conclusion, the passage to scepticism on the immateriality of the soul
was a natural and easy step: but on such a subject we must be cautious
as to the manner in which we make remarks on the observations made by
Hume—we neither appear as among his vindicators, nor for the purpose of
disputing his conclusions—our purpose is, as faithful biographers, to
give, as far as our limits and our knowledge of the subject may admit, a
sketch of his leading doctrines; and if we have any thing to vindicate,
it will be the author’s real meaning, which certain zealous defenders of
Christianity have shown an anxiety to turn as batteries against it. In
his reasonings on the immateriality of the soul he is truly sceptical;
that is, while he does not deny the immateriality of the soul, he
endeavours to show that the mind can form no certain conception of the
immaterial soul. Refining on the argument of a reasoning poet, who
probably was not aware of the full meaning of his own words when he
said—
--" Of God above, or man below,
What can we reason, but from what
we know,"
the author of the
treatise on Human Nature maintained that the mere succession of
impressions, of which the mind was composed, admitted of no such
impression as that of the immateriality of the soul, and consequently
did not admit of the mind comprehending in what that immateriality
consisted. Let it be remembered, that this conclusion is come to in the
same manner as that against the consciousness of the mind to the
existence of matter; and that in neither case does the author maintain
certain opinions which men believe to be less certain than they
are generally conceived to be, but gives to them a name different from
that which language generally bestows on them—that of masses of
probabilities, instead of certainties,—the latter
being a term he reserves solely for the impressions of the senses.
"Should it here be asked me," says the author, " whether I sincerely
assent to this argument, which I seem to take such pains to inculcate,
and whether I be really one of those sceptics, who hold that all is
uncertain, and that our judgment is not in any thing, possessed
of any measures of truth and falsehood; I should reply, that this
question is entirely superfluous, and that neither I, nor any other
person, was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an
absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge as
well as to breathe and feel; nor can we any more forbear viewing certain
objects in a stronger and fuller light, upon account of their customary
connexion with a present impression, than we can hinder ourselves from
thinking, as long as we are awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies,
when we turn our eyes towards them in broad sunshine. Whoever has taken
the pains to refute the cavils of this total scepticism, has
really disputed without an antagonist, and endeavoured by arguments to
establish a faculty which nature has antecedently implanted in the mind,
and rendered unavoidable." [Works, vol. i. p. 240.] With this extremely
clear statement, which shows us, that while Hume had a method of
accounting for the sources of our knowledge differing from the theories
of other philosophers, in the abstract certainty which he admitted to
pertain to any knowledge beyond the existence of an impression, his
belief in the ordinary admitted sources of human knowledge was not less
practically strong than that of other people,--let us connect the
concluding words on the chapter on the immortality of the soul: "There
is no foundation for any conclusion a priori, either concerning
the operations or duration of any object, of which ‘tis possible for the
human mind to form a conception. Any object may be imagined to become
entirely inactive, or to be annihilated in a moment: and ‘tis an evident
principle, that whatever we can imagine is possible. Now this is
no more true of matter than of spirit—of an extended compounded
substance, than of a simple and unextended. In both cases the
metaphysical arguments for the immortality of the soul are equally
inconclusive; and in both cases the moral arguments, and those derived
from the analogy of nature, are equally strong and convincing. If my
philosophy, therefore, makes no addition to the arguments for religion,
I have at least the satisfaction to think it takes nothing from them,
but that every thing remains precisely as before." [Works i. p. 319.]
Without pretending to calculate the ultimate direction of the philosophy
of Hume, as it regards revealed religion, let us repeat the remark, that
many persons busied themselves in increasing its terrors as an engine
against the Christian faith, that they might have the merit of
displaying a chivalrous resistance. The presumptions thus formed and
fostered, caused a vigorous investigation into the grounds of all
belief, and many good and able men were startled to find that it was
necessary to admit many of the positions assumed by their subtle
antagonist, and that they must employ the vigorous logic they had
brought to the field, in stoutly fortifying a position he did not
attack. They found "the metaphysical arguments inconclusive," and "the
moral arguments, and those derived from the analogy of nature, equally
strong and convincing:" and that useful and beautiful system of natural
theology, which has been enriched by the investigations of Derham,
Tucker, [Not Josiah, but Abraham Tucker, who, under the
assumed name of "Search," wrote a book on the light of nature, in 10
vols., 8vo. An unobtrusive and profound work, not very inviting, and
little read, which leter philosophers have pillaged without
compunction.] and Paley, gave place to obscure investigations
into first causes, and idle theories on the grounds of belief, which
generally landed the philosophers in a circle of confusion, and amazed
the reader with incomprehensibilities. One of the most clear and
original of the chapters of the Treatise on Human Nature, has provided
us with a curious practical instance of the pliability of the sceptical
philosophy of Hume. In treating the subject of cause and effect, Mr
Hume, with fidelity to his previous division of perceptions, found
nothing in the effect produced on the mind by any two phenomena, of
which the one received the name of cause, the other that of effect, but
two impressions, and no connexion betwixt them, but the sequence
of the latter to the former; attributing our natural belief that the one
is a cause, and the other its effect, to the habit of the mind in
running from the one impression to that which is its immediate sequent,
or precedent; denying that we can have any conception of cause and
effect beyond those instances of which the mind has had experience, and
which habit has taught it; and, finally, denying that mankind can
penetrate farther into the mystery, than the simple knowledge that the
one phenomenon is experienced to follow the other. Men of undoubtedly
pure religious faith have maintained the justness of this system as a
metaphysical one, and it has found its way into physical science, as a
check to vague theories, and the assumption of conjectural causes: in a
memorable instance, it was however attacked as metaphysically
subversive of a proper belief in the Deity as a first cause. The persons
who maintained this argument, were answered, that an opposite
supposition was morally subversive of a necessity for the
constant existence and presence of the Deity; because, if a cause had
the innate power within it of producing its common effect, the whole
fabric of the universe had an innate power of existence and progression
in its various changes, which dispensed with the existence of a supreme
regulator."
The second volume of the
Treatise on Human Nature, discusses the passions on the principles laid
down at the commencement of the previous volume. The subjects here
treated, while they are not of so strikingly original a description as
to prompt us to enlarge on their contents, may be a more acceptable
morsel to most readers, and certainly may be perused with more of what
is termed satisfaction, than the obscure and somewhat disheartening
investigations of the pure metaphysician. Of the usual subtilty and
acuteness of the author they are of course not destitute; but the
theatre of investigation does not admit of much abstraction, and these
qualities exercise themselves on subjects more tangible and
comprehensible, than those of the author’s prior labours.
The production of the
Treatise on Human Nature, stands almost alone in the history of the
human mind; let it be remembered that the author had just reached that
period, of existence when the animal spirits exercise their strongest
sway, and those whom nature has gifted with talents and observation, are
exulting in a brilliant world before them, of which they are enjoying
the prospective felicity, without tasting much of the bitterness; and
that this extensive treatise, so varied in the subjects embraced, so
patiently collected by a lengthened labour of investigation and
reflection, and entering on views so adverse to all that reason had
previously taught men to believe, and so repulsive to the common
feelings of the world, was the first literary attempt which the author
deigned to place before the public. Perhaps a very close examination of
the early habits and conduct of the author, could the materials of such
be obtained, would scarcely furnish us with a clue to so singular a
riddle; but in a general sense, we may not diverge far from the truth in
supposing, that the circumstances of his earlier intercourse with the
world, had not prompted the author to entertain a very charitable view
of mankind, and that the bitterness thus engendered coming under the
cognizance of his reflective mind, instead of turning him into a stoic
and practical enemy of his species, produced that singular system which,
holding out nothing but doubt as the end of all mortal investigations,
struck a silent blow at the dignity of human nature, and at much of its
happiness. In a very singular passage, he thus speaks of his comfortless
philosophy, and of the feelings it produces in the mind of its Cain-like
fabricator. "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. I
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. I have exposed myself to the
enmity of all metaphysicians, logicians, mathematicians, and even
theologians; and can I wonder at the insults I must suffer? 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, I foresee on every side dispute, contradiction, anger, calumny,
and detraction. When I turn my eye inward, I find nothing but doubt and
ignorance. All the world conspires to oppose and contradict me: though
such is my weakness, that I feel all my opinions loosen and fall of
themselves, when unsupported by the approbation of others. Every step I
take is with hesitation, and every new reflection makes me dread an
error and absurdity in my reasoning." In the same spirit he writes to
his friend, Mr Henry Home, immediately after the publication of the
treatise: "Those," he says, " who are accustomed to reflect on such
abstract subjects, are commonly full of prejudices; and those who are
unprejudiced, are unacquainted with metaphysical reasonings. My
principles are also so remote from all the vulgar sentiments on the
subject, that were they to take place, they would produce almost a total
alteration in philosophy; and you know revolutions of this kind are not
easily brought about." [Tytler’s Life of Kames.]
Hume, when the reflection
of more advanced life, and his habits of unceasing thought had made a
more clear arrangement in his mind, of the principles of his philosophy,
found many things to blame and alter in his treatise, not so much in the
fundamental arguments, as in their want of arrangement, and the obscure
garb of words in which he had clothed them. On the feelings he
entertained on this subject, we find him afterwards writing to Dr John
Stewart, and we shall here quote a rather mutilated fragment of this
epistle, which has hitherto been unprinted, and is interesting as
containing an illustration of his arguments on belief:—"Allow me to tell
you that I never asserted so absurd a proposition, as that any thing
might arise without a cause. I only maintained that our certainty of the
falsehood of that proposition proceeded neither from intuition nor
demonstration, but from another source. That Cesar 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? 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 parts of philosophy, and which I composed before I was five
and twenty. Above all, the positive air which pervades that book, and
which may be imputed to the ardour of youth, so much displeases me, that
I have not patience to review it. I am willing to be unheeded by the
public, though human life is so short that I despair of ever seeing the
decision. I wish I had always confined myself to the more easy paths of
erudition; but you will excuse me from submitting to proverbial
decision, let it even be in Greek."
The effect produced on the
literary world by the appearance of the Treatise on Human Nature, was
not flattering to a young author. "Never literary attempt," says Mr
Hume, "was more unfortunate than my Treatise on Human Nature. It fell
dead-born from the press, without reaching such distinction, as even
to excite a murmur among the zealots. But being naturally of a cheerful
and sanguine temper, I very soon recovered the blow, and prosecuted with
great ardour my studies in the country." The equanimity, and contempt
for public opinion which Hume has here arrogated to himself, seems to
have been considered as somewhat doubtful, on the ground of the
following curious statement in Dr Kenrick’s London Review :—"His
disappointment at the public reception of his Essay on Human Nature, had
indeed a violent effect on his passions in a particular instance; it not
having dropped so dead-born from the press but that it was severely
handled by the reviewers of those times, in a publication entitled, The
Works of the Learned; a circumstance which so highly provoked our young
philosopher, that he flew in a violent rage to demand satisfaction of
Jacob Robinson, the publisher, whom he kept, during the paroxysm of his
anger, at his sword’s point, trembling behind the counter, lest a period
should be put to the life of a sober critic by a raving philosopher." Mr
John Hill Burton, in his life of Hume, observes—"There is nothing in the
story to make it in itself incredible; for Hume was far from being that
docile mass of imperturbability which so large a portion of the world
have taken him for. But the anecdote requires authentication, and has it
not. Moreover, there are circumstances strongly against its truth. Hume
was in Scotland at the time when the criticism on his work was
published; he did not visit London for some years afterwards; and to
believe the story, we must look upon it not as a momentary ebullition of
passion, but as a manifestation of long-treasured 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." We
have perused with much interest the article in "The Works of the
Learned" above alluded to, and it was certainly not likely to engender
calm feelings in the mind of the author reviewed. It is of some length,
attempting no philosophical confutation, but from the ingenuity with
which the most objectionable passages of the Treatise are brought
forward to stand in naked grotesqueness without connexion, it must have
come from some one who had carefully perused the book, and from no
ordinary writer. The vulgar raillery with which it is filled might point
out Warburton, but then the critic does not call the author a liar, a
knave, or a fool, and the following almost prophetic passage with which
the critic concludes (differing considerably in tone from the other
parts), could not possibly have emanated from the head and heart of the
great defender of the church: "It bears, indeed, incontestable marks of
a great capacity, of a soaring genius, but young, and not yet thoroughly
practised. The subject is vast and noble, as any that can exercise the
understanding; but it requires a very mature judgment to handle it as
becomes its dignity and importance; the utmost prudence, tenderness, and
delicacy, are requisite to this desirable issue. Time and use may ripen
these qualities in our author; and we shall probably have reason to
consider this, compared with his later productions, in the same light as
we view the juvenile works of Milton or the first manner
of a Raphael."
The third part of Mr
Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature was published in 1740: it treated the
subject of morals, and was divided into two parts, the first discussing
"Virtue and Vice in general," the second treating of "Justice and
Injustice." The scope of this essay is to show that there is no abstract
and certain distinction betwixt moral good and evil, and while it admits
a sense of virtue to have a practical existence in the mind of every
human being, (however it may have established itself,) it draws a
distinction betwixt those virtues of which every man’s sense of right is
capable of taking cognizance; and justice, which it maintains to be an
artificial virtue, erected certainly on the general wish of mankind to
act rightly, but a virtue which men do not naturally follow, until a
system is invented by human means, and based on reasonable principles of
general utility to the species, which shows men what is just, and what
is unjust, and can best be followed by the man who has best studied its
general artificial form, in conjunction with its application to utility,
and who brings the most acute perception and judgment to assist him in
the task. Before publishing this part of the work, Hume submitted the
manuscript to Francis Hutcheson, professor of moral philosophy in the
university of Glasgow, whose opinions he was more disposed to receive
with deference than those of any other man. Nevertheless, it was only in
matters of detail that he would consent to be guided by that eminent
person. The fundamental principles of the system he firmly defended. The
correspondence which passed betwixt them shows how far Hume saw into the
depths of the utilitarian system, and proves that it was more completely
formed in his mind than it appeared in his book. "To every virtuous
action (says he) there must be a motive or impelling passion distinct
from the virtue, and virtue can never be the sole motive to any action."
The greater plainness of the subject, and its particular reference to
the hourly duties of life, made this essay more interesting to moral
philosophers, and laid it more widely open to criticism, than the
Treatise on the Understanding, and even that on the Passions. The
extensive reference to principles of utility, produced discussions to
which it were an idle and endless work here to refer; but without any
disrespect to those celebrated men who have directly combated the
principles of this work, and supported totally different theories of the
formation of morals, those who have twisted the principles of the author
into excuses for vice and immorality, and the destruction of all
inducements to the practice of virtue, deserve only the fame of being
themselves the fabricators of the crooked morality of which they have
endeavoured to cast the odium upon another. When Mr Hume says, "The
necessity of justice to the support of society is the sole foundation of
that virtue: and since no moral excellence is more highly esteemed, we
may conclude, that this circumstance of usefulness has, in general, the
strongest energy, and most entire command over, our sentiments. It must,
therefore, be the source of a considerable part of the merit ascribed to
humanity, benevolence, friendship, public spirit, and other social
virtues of that stamp; as it is the sole source of the moral approbation
paid to fidelity, justice, veracity, integrity, and those other
estimable and useful qualities and principles:"—it was not difficult for
those benevolent guardians of the public mind, who sat in watch, to
intercept such declarations, to hold such an opinion up to public
indignation, and to maintain that it admitted every man to examine his
actions by his own sense of their utility, and to commit vice by the
application of a theory of expediency appropriated to the act. It is not
necessary to be either a vindicator or assailant of Mr Hume’s theory, to
perceive that what he has traced back to the original foundation of
expediency, is not by him made different in its practice and effects,
from those which good men of all persuasions in religion and philosophy
admit. While he told men that he had traced the whole system of the
morality they practised, to certain principles different from those
generally admitted, he did not tell men to alter their natural reverence
for virtue or abhorrence towards vice; the division betwixt good and
evil had been formed, and while giving his opinion how it had
been formed, he did not dictate a new method of regulating human
actions, and except in the hands of those who applied his theories of
the origin of virtue and vice, to the totally different purpose of an
application to their practice in individual cases, he did no more to
break down the barriers of distinction betwixt them, than he who first
suggested that the organs of sight merely presented to the mind the
reflections of visible objects, may be supposed to have done to
render the mind less certain of the existence of external objects.
"There is no spectacle," says the author, "so fair and beautiful as a
noble and generous action; nor any which gives us more abhorrence than
one which is cruel and treacherous. No enjoyment equals the satisfaction
we receive from the company of those we love and esteem; as the greatest
of all punishments is to be obliged to pass our lives with those
we hate or contemn. A very play or romance may afford us instances of
this pleasure which virtue conveys to us, and the pain which arises from
vice;" [Works, ii. 237.] and it would be difficult to find in this
elaborate essay, any remark to contradict the impression of the author’s
views, which every candid mind must receive from such a declaration.
The neglect with which
his first production was received by the public, while it did not abate
the steady industry of its author, turned his attention for a time to
subjects which might be more acceptable to general readers, and in the
calm retirement of his brother’s house at Ninewells, where he pursued
his studies with solitary zeal, he prepared two volumes of unconnected
dissertations, entitled "Essays Moral and Philosophical," which he
published in 1742. These essays he had intended to have published in
weekly papers, after the method pursued by the authors of the Spectator;
"but," he observes, in an advertisement prefixed to the first edition,
"having dropped 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." A few of the
subjects of these essays are the following: "Of the Delicacy of Taste
and Passion," "That Politics may be reduced to a Science," "Of the
Independency of Parliament," "Of the Parties in Great Britain," "Of
Superstition and Enthusiasm," "Of Liberty and Despotism," "Of
Eloquence," "Of Simplicity and Refinement," "A character of Sir Robert
Walpole," &c. Of these miscellaneous productions we cannot venture the
most passing analysis, in a memoir which must necessarily be brief; of
their general character it may be sufficient to say, that his style of
writing, which in his Treatise was far from approaching the purity and
elegance of composition which he afterwards displayed, had made a rapid
advance to excellence, and that the reading world quickly discovered
from the justness and accuracy of his views, the elegance of his
sentiments, and the clear precision with which he stated his arguments,
that the subtile calculator of the origin of all human knowledge could
direct an acute eye to the proceedings of the world around him, and that
he was capable of making less abstract calculations on the motives which
affected mankind. A few of these essays, which he seems to have
denounced as of too light a nature to accompany his other works, were
not republished during his life; among the subjects of these are
"Impudence and Modesty," "Love and Marriage," "Avarice," &c. Although
these have been negatively stigmatized by their author, a general reader
will find much gratification in their perusal: the subjects are handled
with the careless touch of a satirist, and in drawing so lightly
and almost playfully pictures of what is contemptible and ridiculous,
one can scarcely avoid the conviction that such is the aspect in which
the author wishes to appear; but on the other hand there is such a
complete absence of all grotesqueness, of exaggeration, or attempt at
ridicule, that it is apparent he is drawing a picture of what he knows
to be unchangeably rooted in human nature, and that knowing raillery to
be useless, he is content as a philosopher merely to depict the
deformity which cannot be altered. Among the essays he did not
republish, is the "Character of Sir Robert Walpole," a singular specimen
of the author’s ability to abstract himself from the political feelings
of the time, calmly describing the character of a living statesman,
whose conduct was perhaps more feverishly debated by his friends and
enemies than that of almost any minister in any nation, as if he were a
person of a distant age with which the author had no sympathy, or of a
land with which he was only acquainted through the pages of the
traveller. It was after the publication of this work that Hume first
enjoyed the gratification of something like public applause. "The work,"
he says, "was favourably received, and soon made me entirely
forget my former disappointment." He still rigidly adhered to his plans
of economy and retirement, and continued to reside at Ninewells,
applying himself to the study of Greek, which he had previously
neglected. In 1745, he was invited to become tutor to the marquis of
Annandale, a young nobleman whose state of mind at that period rendered
a superintendent necessary; and though the situation must have been one
not conducive to study, or pleasing to such a mind as that of Hume, he
found that his circumstances would not justify a refusal of the
invitation, and he continued for the period of a year in the family of
the marquis.
During his residence in
this family, the death of Mr Cleghorn, professor of moral philosophy in
the university of Edinburgh, caused a vacancy, which Mr Hume very
naturally considered he might be capable of filling. The patrons of the
university, however, and their advisers, took a different view of the
matter, and judged that they would be at least more safe, in considering
a person of his reputed principles of philosophy, as by no means a
proper instructor of youth: nor were virulence and party feeling unmixed
with cool judgment in fixing their choice. "I am informed," says Hume,
in one of his playful letters addressed to his friend Mr Sharp of Hoddam,
"that such a popular clamour his been raised against me in Edinburgh, 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 headaches you felt
after a debauch, but as a more particular explication of that particular
seems superfluous, I shall only apply to you for a renewal of your good
offices, with your friend lord Tinwald, whose interest with Yetts and
Allan may be of service to me. There is no time to lose; so that I must
beg you to be speedy in writing to him, or speaking to him on that
head." The successful candidate was Mr James Balfour, advocate, a
gentleman who afterwards became slightly known to the literary world as
the author of "A Delineation of the Nature and Obligations of Morality,
with reflections on Mr Hume’s Inquiry concerning the principles of
Morals," a work which has died out of remembrance, but the candid spirit
of which prompted Hume to write a complimentary letter to the (then)
anonymous author. The disappointment of not being able to obtain a
situation so desirable as affording a respectable and permanent salary,
and so suited to his studies, seems to have preyed more heavily than any
other event in his life, on the spirits of Mr Hume; and with the desire
of being independent of the world, he seems for a short time to have
hesitated whether he should continue his studies, or at once relinquish
the pursuit of philosophical fame, by joining the army.
During the ensuing year,
his desire to be placed in a situation of respectability was to a
certain extent gratified, by his being appointed secretary to
lieutenant-general St Clair, who had been chosen to command an
expedition avowedly against Canada, but which terminated in a useless
incursion on the coast of France. In the year 1747, general St Clair was
appointed to superintend an embassy to the courts of Vienna and Turin,
and declining to accept a secretary from government, Hume, for whom he
seems to have entertained a partiality, accompanied him in his former
capacity. He here enjoyed the society of Sir Henry Erskine and captain
(afterwards general) Grant, and mixing a little with the world, and
joining in the fashionable society of the places which he visited, he
seems to have enjoyed a partial relaxation from his philosophical
labours. Although he mentions that these two years were almost the only
interruptions which his studies had received during the course of his
life, he does not seem to have entirely neglected his pursuits as an
author; in a letter to his friend Henry Home, he hints at the
probability of his devoting his time to historical subjects, and
continues, "I have here two things going on, a new edition of my
Essays, all of which you have seen except one of the
Protestant succession, where I treat that subject as coolly and
indifferently as I would the dispute betwixt Cesar and Pompey. The
conclusion shows me a whig, but a very sceptical one." [Tytler’s Life of
Kames.]
Lord Charlemont, who at
this period met with Mr Hume at Turin, has given the following account
of his habits and appearance, penned apparently with a greater aim at
effect than at truth, yet somewhat characteristic of the philosopher:
"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 eyes
vacant and spiritless; and the corpulence of his whole person was far
better fitted to communicate the idea of a turtle-eating alderman than
of a refined philosopher. His speech in English was rendered
ridiculous by the broadest Scottish accent, and his French, was, if
possible, still more laughable; so that wisdom, most certainly, never
disguised herself before in so uncouth a garb. Though now near fifty
years old, [His lordship must have made a mis-calculation. Hume was then
only in his 38th year.] he was healthy and strong; but his
health and strength, far from being advantageous to his figure, instead
of manly comeliness, had only the appearance of rusticity. His wearing a
uniform added greatly to his natural awkwardness, for he wore it like a
grocer of the train-bands. Sinclair was a lieutenant-general, and was
sent to the courts of Vienna and Turin as a military envoy, to see that
their quota of troops was furnished by the Austrians and Piedmontese. It
was therefore thought necessary that his secretary should appear to be
an officer; and Hume was accordingly disguised in scarlet." [Hardy’s
Life of Charlemont, p. 8.]
The letter to Mr Home we
have quoted above, gives an idea of the literary employments of the
author during the intervals of his official engagements at Turin, and on
his return to Britain he exhibited the fruit of his labour in a second
edition of his "Essays, Moral and Political," which was published in
1748, with four additional essays, and in a reconstruction of the first
part of his Treatise of Human Nature, which he published immediately
after, under the title "Philosophical Essays concerning the Human
Understanding," and formed the first part of the well-known corrected
digest of the Treatise of Human Nature, into the "Inquiry concerning
Human Nature." In the advertisement the author informs the public that
"most of the principles and reasonings in this volume were published in
a work in three volumes, called A Treatise of Human Nature, a work which
the author had projected before he left college, and which he wrote and
published not long after. The philosophy of this work is essentially the
same as that of which he had previously sketched a more rude and
complicated draught. The object, (or more properly speaking, the
conclusion arrived at, for the person who sets out without admissions,
and inquires whether any thing can be ascertained in philosophy,
can scarcely be said to have an object in view,) is the same
system of doubt which he previously expounded; a scepticism, not like
that of Boyle and others, which merely went to show the uncertainty of
the conclusions attending particular species of argument, but a sweeping
argument to show that by the structure of the understanding, the result
of all investigations, on all subjects, must ever be doubt." The Inquiry
must be to every reader a work far more pleasing, and we may even say,
instructive, than the Treatise. While many of the more startling
arguments, assuming the appearance of paradoxes, sometimes indistinctly
connected with the subject, are omitted, others are laid down in a
clearer form; the whole is subjected to a more compact arrangement, and
the early style of the writer, which to many natural beauties, united a
considerable feebleness and occasional harshness, makes in this work a
very near approach to the elegance and classic accuracy, which much
perseverance, and a refined taste enabled the author to acquire in the
more advanced period of his life. Passing over, as our limits must
compel us, any attempt at an analytical comparison of the two works, and
a narrative of the changes in the author’s opinions, we must not omit
the circumstance, that the Essay on Miracles, which it will be
remembered the author withheld from his Treatise, was attached to the
Inquiry, probably after a careful revision and correction. Locke had
hinted in a few desultory observations the grounds of a disbelief in the
miracles attributed to the early Christian church, and Dr Conyers
Middleton, in his Free Inquiry into the miraculous powers supposed to
have subsisted in the Christian church from the earliest ages, published
very nearly at the same period with the Essay of Hume, struck a more
decided blow at all supernatural agency beyond what was justified by the
sacred Scriptures, and approached by his arguments a dangerous
neighbourhood to an interference with what he did not avowedly attack.
Hume considered the subject as a general point in the human
understanding to which he admitted no exceptions. The argument of this
remarkable essay is too well known to require an explanation; but the
impartiality too often infringed when the works of this philosopher are
the subject of consideration, requires that it should be kept in mind,
that he treats the proof of miracles, as he does that of the existence
of matter, in a manner purely sceptical, with this practical
distinction,—that supposing a person is convinced of, or chooses to say
he believes in the abstract existence of matter, independent of the mere
impressions conveyed by the senses, there is still room to doubt
that miracles have been worked. It would have been entirely at variance
with the principles of scepticism to have maintained that miracles were
not, and could not have been performed, according to the laws of nature;
but the argument of Mr Hume certainly leans to the practical conclusion,
that our uncertainty as to what we are said to have experienced,
expands into a greater uncertainty of the existence of miracles, which
are contrary to the course of our experience; because belief in evidence
is founded entirely on our belief in experience, and on the
circumstance, that what we hear from the testimony of others coincides
with the current of that experience; and whenever testimony is
contradictory to the current of our experience, the latter is the more
probable, and should we be inclined to believe in it, we must at
least doubt the former. Thus the author concludes "That no
testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be
of such a kind that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact
which it endeavours to establish: and even in that case there is a
mutual destruction of arguments, and the superior only gives us an
assurance suitable to that degree of force which remains after deducting
the inferior." The application of his argument to the doctrines of
Christianity he conceives to be, that "it may serve to confound those
dangerous friends, or disguised enemies to the Christian religion, who
have undertaken to defend it by the principles of human reason; our most
holy religion is founded on faith, not on reason; and it is a
sure method of exposing it to put it to such a trial as it is by no
means fitted to endure." [Works, iv. 135, 153.] Hume is repeatedly at
pains to protest against his being supposed to be arguing in the
essay against the Christian faith. These protests, however, as his
biographer, Mr Burton, is constrained to admit, were uttered briefly and
coldly, and in such a manner as made people feel, that if Hume believed
in the doctrines of the Bible, he certainly had not his heart in them. A
want of proper deference for religious feeling (adds this writer) is a
defect that runs through all his works. There is no ribaldry, but at the
same time there are no expressions of decent reverence. It is to be
observed, also, that the argument of Hume against miracles is still a
favourite weapon of the enemies of revealed religion. At the same time,
it must be admitted that under proper regulation, the argument is of use
in defining the boundaries of inductive reasoning, and in this way has
proved undoubtedly serviceable to the progress of science.
The work by Dr Campbell
in confutation of this essay, at first produced in the form of a sermon,
and afterwards expanded into a treatise, which was published in 1762, is
well known and appreciated. This admirable and conclusive production,
while yet in manuscript, was shown to Hume by Dr Blair. Hume was much
pleased with the candour of the transaction; he remarked a few passages
hardly in accordance with the calm feelings of the other portions of the
work, which at his suggestion the author amended; and he personally
wrote to Dr Campbell, with his usual calm politeness, thanking him for
treatment so unexpected from a clergyman of the church of Scotland; and,
with the statement that he had made an early resolution not to answer
attacks on his opinions, acknowledged that he never felt so violent an
inclination to defend himself. The respect which Campbell admitted
himself to entertain for the sceptic is thus expressed:
"The Essay on Miracles
deserves to be considered as one of the most dangerous attacks that have
been made on our religion. The danger results not solely from the merit
of the piece: it results much more from that of the author.
The piece itself, like every other work of Mr Hume, is ingenious;
but its merit is more of the oratorical kind than of the philosophical.
The merit of the author, I acknowledge, is great. The many useful
volumes he has published of history, as well as on criticism,
politics, and trade, have justly procured him, with all
persons of taste and discernment, the highest reputation as a writer. *
* In such analysis and exposition, which I own, I have
attempted without ceremony or reserve, an air of ridicule is
unavoidable; but this ridicule, I am well aware, if founded on
misrepresentation, will at last rebound upon myself." [Edit 1797,
Advert. p. viii.]
Dr Campbell was a man of
strong good sense, and knew well the description of argument which the
world would best appreciate, approve, and comprehend, in answer to the
perplexing subtilties of his opponent. He struck at the root of the
system of perceptions merging into experience, and experience regulating
the value of testimony, which had been erected by his adversary,—and
appealing, not to the passions and feelings in favour of religion, but
to the common convictions which we deem to be founded on reason, and
cannot separate from our minds, maintained that "testimony has a natural
and original influence on belief, antecedent to experience," from which
position he proceeded to show, that the miracles of the gospel had
received attestation sufficient to satisfy the reason. With his usual
soundness and good sense, though scarcely with the profundity which the
subject required, Dr Paley joined the band of confutors, while he left
Hume to triumph in the retention of the effects attributed to
experience, maintaining that the principle so established was
counteracted by our natural expectation that the Deity should manifest
his existence, by doing such acts contrary to the established order of
the universe, as would plainly show that order to be of his own
fabrication, and at his own command.
Before leaving the
subject of the Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, we may mention
that Mr Coleridge in his Biographia Literaria, has accused Hume of
plagiarizing the exposition of the Principles of Association in that
work, from the unexpected source of the Commentary of St Thomas Aquinas,
on the Parva Naturalia of Aristotle, and the charge, with however much
futility it may be supported, demands, when coming from so celebrated a
man, the consideration of the biographer. Mr Coleridge’s words are, "In
consulting the excellent Commentary of St Thomas Aquinas, on the Parva
Naturalia of Aristotle, I was struck at once with its close resemblance
to Hume’s Essay on Association. The main thoughts were the same in both,
the order of the thoughts was the same, and even the
illustrations differed only by Hume’s occasional substitution of modern
examples. I mentioned the circumstance to several of my literary
acquaintances, who admitted the closeness of the resemblance, and that
it seemed too great to be explained by mere coincidence; but they
thought it improbable that Hume should have held the pages of the
angelic doctor worth turning over. But some time after, Mr Payne, of the
King’s Mews, showed Sir James Mackintosh some odd volumes of St Thomas
Aquinas, partly, perhaps, from having heard that Sir James (then Mr)
Mackintosh, had, in his lectures, passed a high encomium on this
canonized philosopher, but chiefly from the facts, that the volumes had
belonged to Mr Hume, and had here and there marginal marks and notes of
reference in his own hand-writing. Among these volumes was that which
contains the Parva Naturalia, in the old Latin version, swathed
and swaddled in the commentary afore mentioned." When a person has spent
much time in the perusal of works so unlikely to be productive, as those
of Aquinas, the discovery of any little coincidence, or of any idea that
may attract attention, is a fortunate incident, of which the discoverer
cannot avoid informing the world, that it may see what he has been
doing, and the coincidence in question is such as might have excused an
allusion to the subject, as a curiosity. But it was certainly a piece of
(no doubt heedless) disingenuousness on the part of Mr Coleridge, to
make so broad and conclusive a statement, without accompanying it with a
comparison. "We have read," says a periodical paper alluding to this
subject, "the whole commentary of St Thomas Aquinas, and we challenge Mr
Coleridge to produce from it a single illustration, or expression of any
kind, to be found in Hume’s essay. The whole scope and end of Hume’s
essay is not only different from that of St Thomas Aquinas, but there is
not in the commentary of the ‘angelic doctor’ one idea which in any way
resembles, or can be made to resemble, the beautiful illustration of the
prince of sceptics." [Blackwood’s Magazine, v. iii. 656.] The theory of
Hume on the subject as corrected in his Inquiry, is thus expressed: "To
me, there appear to be only three principles of connexion among ideas,
namely, resemblance, contiguity, in time or place, and cause
or effect. That these principles serve to connect ideas, will
not, I believe, be much doubted. A picture naturally leads our thoughts
to the original. The mention of one apartment in a building naturally
introduces an inquiry or discourse concerning the others; and if we
think of a wound, we can scarcely forbear reflecting on the pain which
follows it." [Works, iv. p. 25.] From a comparison of this, with what Mr
Coleridge must have presumed to be the corresponding passage in Aquinas,
it will be perceived that a natural wish to make the most of his
reading had prompted him to propound the discovery. Had no other person
besides Aquinas endeavoured to point out the regulating principles of
association, and had Hume with such a passage before him pretended to
have been the first to have discovered them, there might have been
grounds for the accusation; but the methods of connexion discovered by
philosophers in different ages, have been numerous, and almost always
correct, as secondary principles. It was the object of Hume to
gather these into a thread, and going back to principles as limited and
ultimate as he could reach, to state as nearly as possible, not all the
methods by which ideas were associated, but to set bounds to the
abstract principles under which these methods might be classed. Aquinas,
on the other hand, by no means sets bounds to the principles of
association; he gives three methods of association, and in the
matter of number resembles Hume; but had he given twenty
methods, he might have more nearly embraced what Hume has embraced
within his three principles. The method of association by resemblance is
the only one stated by both: with regard to the second principle by
Aquinas, contrariety, from the illustration with which he has
accompanied it, he appears to mean local or physical opposition, such as
the opposition of two combatants in a battle, and not the interpretation
now generally bestowed on the term by philosophers. But supposing him to
have understood it in the latter sense, Hume has taken pains to show
that contrariety cannot easily be admitted as a fourth ultimate
principle: thus in a note he says, "For instance, contrast or
contrariety is also a connexion among ideas, but it may perhaps be
considered as a mixture of causation and resemblance.
Where two objects are contrary, the one destroys the other; that is, is
the cause of its annihilation, and the idea of the annihilation of an
object, implies the idea of its former existence." Aquinas, it will be
remarked, entirely omits "cause and effect," and his "contiguity" is of
a totally different nature from that of Hume, since it embraces an
illustration which Hume would have referred to the principle of "cause
and effect."
"I had always," says
Hume, in reference to the work we have just been noticing, "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 I
had been guilty of a very usual indiscretion, in going to the press too
early. I, therefore, cast the first part of the work anew, in the
Inquiry concerning Human Understanding, which was published while I was
at Turin. But this piece was at first little more successful than the
Treatise of Human Nature. On my return from Italy, I had the
mortification to find all England in a ferment, on account of Dr
Middleton’s Free Inquiry, while my performance was entirely overlooked
and neglected."
About this period, Hume
suffered the loss of a mother, who, according to his own account, when
speaking of his earlier days, was "a woman of singular merit, who,
though young and handsome, devoted herself entirely to the rearing of
her children;" and the philosopher seems to have regarded her with a
strong and devoted affection. He was a man whose disposition led him to
unite himself to the world by few of the ordinary ties, but the few
which imperceptibly held him, were not broken without pain; on these
occasions the philosopher yielded to the man, and the cold sceptic
discovered the feelings with which nature had gifted him, which at other
moments lay chained by the bonds of his powerful reason. A very
different account of the effect of this event, from what we have just
now stated, is given in the passage we are about to quote (as copied in
the Quarterly Review,) from the travels of the American Silliman.
Without arguing as to the probability or improbability of its containing
a true statement, let us remark that it is destitute of proof, a
quality it amply requires, being given by the traveller forty years
after the death of the philosopher, from the report of an individual,
while the circumstance is not one which would have probably escaped the
religious zeal of some of Mr Hume’s commentators.
"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 Hume now applied himself with unwearied
and unhappily with successful efforts, to sap the foundation of his
mother’s faith. Having succeeded in this dreadful work, he went abroad
into foreign countries; and as he 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 herself
without any support in her distress: that he had taken away that source
of comfort upon which, in all cases of affliction, she used to rely, and
that she now 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, travelling day and night; but before he arrived, his 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 obduracy of heart."
On the appearance of this
anecdote, Baron Hume, the philosopher’s nephew, communicated to the
editor of the Quarterly Review the following anecdote, of a more
pleasing nature, connected with the same circumstance; and while it is
apparent that it stands on better ground, we may mention that it is
acknowledged by the reviewer as an authenticated contradiction to the
statement of Silliman. "David and he (the hon. Mr Boyle, brother of the
earl of Glasgow) were both in London, at the period when David’s
mother died. Mr Boyle, hearing of it, soon after went into his
apartment, for they lodged in the same house, where he found him in the
deepest affliction, and in a flood of tears. After the usual topics of
condolence, Mr Boyle said to him, ‘My friend, you owe this uncommon
grief to your having thrown off the principles of religion; for if you
had 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 completely happy in the realms of the just.’ 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 mankind as you imagine.’"
Hume returned, in 1749,
to the retirement of his brother’s house at Ninewells, and during a
residence there for two years, continued his remodeling of his Treatise
of Human Nature, and prepared for the press his celebrated Political
Discourses. The former production appeared in 1751, under the title of
an "Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals," published by Millar,
the celebrated bookseller. Hume considered this the most perfect of his
works, and it is impossible to resist admiration of the clearness of the
arguments, and the beautiful precision of the theories; the world,
however, did not extend to it the balmy influence of popularity, and it
appeared to the author, that all his literary efforts were doomed to the
unhappy fate of being little regarded at first, and of gradually
decaying into oblivion. "In my opinion," he says, "(who ought not to
judge on that subject,) [it] is, of all my writings, historical,
philosophical, or literary, incomparably the best. It came unnoticed and
unobserved into the world."
In 1752, and during the
author’s residence in Edinburgh, appeared his "Political Discourses."
The subjects of these admirable essays were of interest to every one,
the method of treating them was comprehensible to persons of common
discernment; above all, they treated subjects on which the prejudices of
few absolutely refused conviction by argument, and the author had the
opportunity of being appreciated and admired, even when telling truths.
The book in these circumstances, was, in the author’s words, "the only
work of mine that was successful on the first publication. It was well
received abroad and at home." The chief subjects were, "Commerce, money,
interest, the balance of trade, the populousness of ancient nations, the
idea of a perfect commonwealth." Sir Josiah Child, Sir William Petty,
Hobbes, and Locke, had previously given the glimmerings of more liberal
principles on trade and manufacture than those which they saw practised,
and hinted at the common prejudices on the use of money and the value of
labour; but Hume was the first to sketch an outline of some branches of
the benevolent system of political economy framed by his illustrious
friend, Adam Smith. He laid down labour as the only criterion of all
value, made a near approach to an ascertainment of the true value of the
precious metals, a point not yet fully fixed among economists;
discovered the baneful effects of commercial limitations as obliging the
nation to trade in a less profitable manner than it would choose to do
if unconstrained, and predicted the dangerous consequences of the
funding system. The essay on the populousness of ancient nations, was a
sceptical analysis of the authorities on that subject, doubting their
accuracy, on the principle of political economy that the number of the
inhabitants of a nation must have a ratio to its fruitfulness and
their industry. The essay was elaborately answered by Dr Wallace, in
a Dissertation of the Numbers of Mankind, but that gentleman only
produced a host of those "authorities," the efficacy of which Mr Hume
has doubted on principle. This essay is an extremely useful practical
application of the doctrines in the Essay on Miracles. Mr Hume’s ‘idea
of a perfect commonwealth,’ has been objected to as an impracticable
system. The author probably had the wisdom to make this discovery
himself, and might have as soon expected it to be applicable to
practice, as a geometrician might dream of his angles, straight lines,
and points, being literally accomplished in the measurement of an
estate, or the building of a house. The whole represents men without
passions or prejudices working like machines; and Hume no doubt
admitted, that while passion, prejudice, and habit, forbade the safe
attempt of such projects, such abstract structures ought to be held up
to the view of the legislator, as the forms into which, so far as he can
do it with safety, he ought to stretch the systems under his
administration. Plato, More, Harrington, Hobbes, and (according to some
accounts,) Berkeley [In the anonymous adventures of Giovanni de Lucra.]
had employed their ingenuity in a similar manner, and Hume seems
to have considered it worthy of his attention.
In February, 1752, David
Hume succeeded the celebrated Ruddiman, as librarian to the Faculty of
Advocates. The salary was at that time very trifling, somewhere we
believe about £40, but the duties were probably little more than
nominal, and the situation was considered an acquisition to a man of
literary habits. It was, with this ample field of authority at his
command, that he seems to have finally determined to write a portion of
the History of England. In 1757, he relinquished this appointment on his
removing to London, when preparing for publication the History of the
House of Tudor.
In 1752, appeared the
first (published) volume of the History of England, embracing the period
from the accession of the house of Stuart, to the death of Charles the
First; and passing over intermediate events, we may mention that the
next volume, containing a continuation of the series of events to the
period of the Revolution, appeared in 1756, and the third, containing
the History of the house of Tudor, was published in 1759. "I was, I
own," says the author with reference to the first volume, "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 disappointment; I was assailed by one cry of reproach,
disapprobation, and even detestation; English, Scottish, and Irish, whig
and tory, churchman and sectary, freethinker and religionist, patriot
and courtier, united in their rage against the man, who had presumed to
shed a generous tear for the fate of Charles I. and the earl of
Strafford; and after the first ebullitions of their fury were over, what
was still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink into oblivion." Of
the second he says, "This performance happened to give less displeasure
to the whigs, and was better received. It not only rose itself, but
helped to buoy up its unfortunate brother." Of the History of England it
is extremely difficult to give a fair and unbiased opinion,
because, while the author is, in general, one of the most impartial
writers on this subject, it is scarcely a paradox to say, that the few
partialities in which he has indulged, have done more to warp the mind
than the violent prejudices of others. Previous to his history, those
who wrote on political subjects ranged themselves in parties, and each
man proclaimed with open mouth the side for which he was about to argue,
and men heard him as a special pleader. Hume looked over events with the
eye of a philosopher; he seemed to be careless of the extent of the good
or bad of either party. On neither side did he abuse, on neither did he
laud or even justify. The side which he adopted seldom enjoyed
approbation or even vindication, and only in apology did he distinguish
it from that to which he was inimical. From this peculiarity, the
opinions to which he leaned acquired strength from the suffrage of one
so apparently impartial and unconcerned. Notwithstanding the prejudices
generally attributed however to Hume as an historian, we cannot set him
down as an enemy to liberty. No man had grander views of the power of
the human mind, and of the higher majesty of intellect, when compared
with the external attributes of rank; and the writings of a republican
could not exceed in depicting this feeling, the picture he has drawn of
the parliament of Charles the First, and of the striking circumstances
of the king’s condemnation. The instances in which he has shown himself
to be inconsistent, may, perhaps, be more attributed to his habits, than
to his opinions. His indolent benevolence prompted a sympathy with the
oppressed, and he felt a reluctance to justify those who assumed the
aspect of active assailants, from whatever cause; while in matters of
religion, viewing all persuasions in much the same aspect, unprejudiced
himself he felt a contempt for those who indulged in prejudice, and was
more inclined to censure than to vindicate those who acted from
religious impulse. With all his partialities, however, let those who
study the character of the author while they read his history recollect,
that he never made literature bow to rank, that he never flattered a
great man to obtain a favour, and that, though long poor, he was always
independent. Of the seeming contradiction between hid life and opinions,
we quote the following applicable remarks from the Edinburgh Review:
"Few things seem more
unaccountable, and indeed absurd, than that Hume should have taken part
with high church and high monarchy men. The persecutions which he
suffered in his youth from the presbyterians, may, perhaps, have
influenced his ecclesiastical partialities. But that he should have
sided with the Tudors and the Stuarts against the people, seems quite
inconsistent with all the great traits of his character. His unrivaled
sagacity must have looked with contempt on the preposterous arguments by
which the jus divinum was maintained. His natural benevolence
must have suggested the cruelty of subjecting the enjoyments of
thousands to the caprice of one unfeeling individual: and his own
practical independence in private life, might have taught him the value
of those feelings which he has so mischievously derided. Mr Fox seems to
have been struck with some surprise at this strange trait in the
character of our philosopher. In a letter to Mr Laing he says, ‘He was
an excellent man, and of great powers of mind; but his partiality to
kings and princes is intolerable. Nay, it is, in my opinion, quite
ridiculous: and is more like the foolish admiration which women and
children sometimes have for kings, than the opinion, right or wrong, of
a philosopher.’"
It would be a vain task
to enumerate the controversial attacks on Hume’s History of England. Dr
Hurd in his Dialogues on the English Constitution stoutly combated his
opinions. Miller brought the force of his strongly thinking mind to a
consideration of the subject at great length, but he assumed too much
the aspect of a special pleader. Dr Birch and Dr Towers entered on
minute examinations of particular portions of the narrative, and the
late major Cartwright, with more fancy than reason, almost caricatured
the opinions of those who considered that Hume had designedly painted
the government of the Tudors in arbitrary colours, to relieve that of
the Stuarts. Mr Laing appeared as the champion of the Scottish
patriots, and Dr M’Crie as the vindicator of the presbyterians; and
within these few past years, two elaborate works have fully examined the
statements and representations of Hume,—the British Empire of Mr Brodie,
and the extremely impartial Constitutional History of Hallam.
In the interval betwixt
the publication of the first and second volumes of the History, Hume
produced the "Natural History of Religion." This production is one of
those which Warburton delighted to honour. In a pamphlet which Hume
attributed to Hurd, he thus politely notices it: "The few excepted out
of the whole race of mankind are, we see, our philosopher and his gang,
with their pedlars’ ware of matter and motion, who penetrate by their
disquisitions into the secret structure of vegetable and animal bodies,
to extract, like the naturalists in Gulliver, sunbeams out of cucumbers;
just as wise a project as this of raising religion out of the intrigues
of matter and motion. We see what the man would be at, through all his
disguises, and no doubt, he would be much mortified if we did not;
though the discovery we make, is only this, that, of all the slanders
against revelation, this before us is the tritest, the dirtiest, and the
most worn in the drudgery of free-thinking, not but it may pass with his
friends, and they have my free leave to make their best of it. What I
quote it for; is only to show the rancour of heart which
possesses this unhappy man, and which could induce him to employ an
insinuation against the Christian and the Jewish religions; not only of
no weight in itself, but of none, I will venture to say, even in his own
opinion." [Warburton’s works, vii. 851. 868.]Hume says, he "found by
Warburton’s railing" that his "books were beginning to be esteemed in
good company;" and of the particular attention which the prelate
bestowed on the sceptic, such specimens as the following are to be found
in the correspondence of the former: "I am strongly tempted too, to have
a stroke at Hume in parting. He is the author of a little book, called
Philosophical Essays: in one of which he argues against the hope of a
God, and in another (very needlessly you will say,) against the
possibility of miracles. He has crowned the liberty of the press, and
yet he has a considerable post under government. I have a great mind to
do justice on his arguments against miracles, which I think might be
done in few words. But does he deserve notice? Is he known among you?
Pray answer me these questions; for if his own weight keeps him down, I
should be sorry to contribute to his advancement to any place but the
pillory." [Letters from a late Rev. Prelate, to one of his Friends,
1808, p. 11.]
Of the very different
manner in which he esteemed a calm, and a scurrilous critic, we have
happily been able to obtain an instance, in a copy of a curious letter
of Hume, which, although the envelope is unfortunately lost, and the
whole is somewhat mutilated, we can perceive from the circumstances, to
have been addressed to Dr John Stewart, author of an Essay on the Laws
of Motion. It affords a singular instance of the calm and forgiving
spirit of the philosopher: "I am so great a lover of peace, that I am
resolved to drop this matter altogether, and not to insert a syllable in
the preface, which can have a reference to your essay. The truth is, I
could take no revenge but such a one as would have been a great deal too
cruel, and much exceeding the offence; for though most authors think,
that a contemptuous manner of treating their writings is but slightly
revenged by hurting the personal character and the honour of their
antagonists, I am very far from being of that opinion. Besides, as I am
as certain as I can be of any thing, (and I am not such a sceptic as you
may perhaps imagine,) that your inserting such remarkable alterations in
the printed copy proceeded entirely from precipitancy and passion, not
from any formed intention of deceiving the society, I would not take
advantage of such an incident, to throw a slur on a man of merit, whom I
esteem though I might have reason to complain of him. When I am abused
by such a fellow as Warburton, whom I neither know nor care for, I can
laugh at him. But if Dr Stewart approaches any way towards the same
style of writing, I own it vexes me; because I conclude that some
unguarded circumstances of my conduct, though contrary to my intention
had given occasion to it. As to your situation with regard to lord
Kames, I am not so good a judge. I only know, that you had so much the
better of the argument that you ought upon that account to have been
more reserved in your expressions. All raillery ought to be avoided in
philosophical argument, both because (it is) unphilosophical, and
because it cannot but be offensive, let it be ever so gentle. What then
must we think with regard to so many insinuations of irreligion, to
which lord Kames’s paper gave not the least occasion? This spirit of the
inquisitor is, in you, the effect of passion, and what a cool moment
would easily correct. But when it predominates in the character, what
ravages has it committed on reason, virtue, truth, sobriety, and every
thing that is valuable among mankind!"—We may at this period of his life
consider Hume as having reached the age when the mind has entirely
ceased to bend to circumstances, and cannot be made to alter its habits.
Speaking of him in this advanced period of his life, an author signing
himself G. N. and detailing some anecdotes of Hume, with whom he says he
was acquainted, states (in the Scots Magazine), that "his great views of
being singular, and a vanity to show himself superior to most people,
led him to advance many axioms that were dissonant to the opinions of
others, and led him into sceptical doctrines, only to show how minute
and puzzling they were to other folk; in so far, that I have often seen
him (in various companies, according as he saw some enthusiastic person
there), combat either their religious or political principles; nay,
after he had struck them dumb, take up the argument on their side, with
equal good humour, wit, and jocoseness, all to show his pre-eminency."
The same person mentions his social feelings, and the natural
disposition of his temper to flow with the current of whatever society
he was in; and that while he never gambled, he had a natural liking to
whist playing, and was so accomplished a player as to be the subject of
a shameless proposal on the part of a needy man of rank, for bettering
their mutual fortunes, which it need not be said was repelled.
But the late lamented
Henry M’Kenzie, who has attempted to embody the character of the sceptic
in the beautiful fiction of La Roche, has drawn, from his intimate
knowledge of character, and his great acquaintance with the philosopher,
a more pleasing picture. His words are, "The unfortunate nature of his
opinions with regard to the theoretical principles of moral and
religious truth, never influenced his regard for men who held very
opposite sentiments on those subjects, which he never, like some vain
shallow sceptics, introduced into social discourse; on the contrary,
when at any time the conversation tended that way, he was desirous
rather of avoiding any serious discussion on matters which he wished to
confine to the graver and less dangerous consideration of cool
philosophy. He had, it might be said, in the language which the Grecian
historian applies to an illustrious Roman, two minds; one which indulged
in the metaphysical scepticism which his genius could invent, but which
it could not always disentangle; another, simple, natural, and playful,
which made his conversation delightful to his friends, and even
frequently conciliated men whose principles of belief his philosophical
doubts, if they had not power to shake, had grieved and offended. During
the latter period of his life I was frequently in his company amidst
persons of genuine piety, and I never heard him venture a remark at
which such men, or ladies--still more susceptible than men—could take
offence. His good nature and benevolence prevented such an injury to his
hearers; it was unfortunate that he often forgot what injury some
of his writings might do to his readers." [M’Kenzie’s Life of Home, p.
20.]
Hume was now a man
of a very full habit, and somewhat given to indolence in all occupations
but that of literature. An account of himself, in a letter to his
relation Mrs Dysart may amuse from its calm pleasantry, and good humour:
"My compliments to his solicitorship. Unfortunately I have not a horse
at present to carry my fat carcase, to pay its respects to his superior
obesity. But if he finds travelling requisite either for his health or
the captain’s, we shall be glad to entertain him here as long as we can
do it at another’s expense, in hopes that we shall soon be able to do it
at our own. Pray, tell the solicitor that I have been reading lately, in
an old author called Strabo, that in some cities of ancient Gaul, there
was a fixed legal standard established for corpulency, and that the
senate kept a measure, beyond which, if any belly presumed to increase,
the proprietor of that belly was obliged to pay a fine to the public,
proportionable to its rotundity. Ill would it fare with his worship and
I (me), if such a law should pass our parliament, for I am afraid we are
already got beyond the statute. I wonder, indeed, no harpy of the
treasury has ever thought of this method of raising money. Taxes on
luxury are always most approved of, and no one will say that the
carrying about a portly belly is of any use or necessity. ‘Tis a mere
superfluous ornament, and is a proof too, that its proprietor enjoys
greater plenty than he puts to a good use; and, therefore, ‘tis fit to
reduce him to a level with his fellow subjects, by taxes and
impositions. As the lean people are the most active, unquiet, and
ambitious, they everywhere govern the world, and may certainly oppress
their antagonists whenever they please. Heaven forbid that whig and tory
should ever be abolished, for then the nation might be split into fat
and lean, and our faction I am afraid would be in a piteous taking. The
only comfort is, if they oppress us very much we should at last change
sides with them. Besides, who knows if a tax were imposed on fatness,
but some jealous divine might pretend that the church was in danger. I
cannot but bless the memory of Julius Cesar, for the great esteem he
expressed for fat men, and his aversion to lean ones. All the world
allows that the emperor was the greatest genius that ever was, and the
greatest judge of mankind."
In the year 1756, the
philosophical calm of Hume appeared in danger of being disturbed by the
fulminations of the church. The outcry against his doubting philosophy
became loud, scepticism began to be looked on as synonimous with
infidelity, and some of the fiercer spirits endeavoured to urge on the
church to invade the sacred precincts of freedom of opinion. The
discussion of the subject commenced before the committee of overtures on
the 27th of May, and a long debate ensued, in which some were pleased to
maintain, that Hume, not being a Christian, was not a fit person to be
judged by the venerable court. For a more full narrative of those
proceedings, we refer to the life of Henry Home of Kames, who was
subjected to the same attempt at persecution. In an analysis of the
works of the two authors, published during the session of the
assembly, and circulated among the members, the respectable author, with
a laudable anxiety to find an enemy to the religion he professed, laid
down the following, as propositions which he would be enabled to
prove were the avowed opinions of Mr Hume:—"1st, All distinction between
virtue and vice is merely imaginary—2nd, Justice has no foundation
farther than it contributes to public advantage—3d, Adultery is very
lawful, but sometimes not expedient.—4th, Religion and its ministers are
prejudicial to mankind, and will always be found either to run into the
heights of superstition or enthusiasm—5th, Christianity has no evidence
of its being a divine revelation—6th, Of all the modes of Christianity,
popery is the best, and the reformation from thence was only the work of
madmen and enthusiasts." The overture was rejected by the committee, and
the indefatigable vindicators of religion brought the matter under a
different shape before the presbytery of Edinburgh, but that body very
properly decided on several grounds, among which, not the least
applicable was, "to prevent their entering further into so abstruse and
metaphysical a subject," that it "would be more for the purposes of
edification to dismiss the process."
In 1759, appeared Dr
Robertson’s History of Scotland, and the similarity of the subjects in
which he and Hume were engaged, produced an interchange of information,
and a lasting friendship, honourable to both these great men. Hume was
singularly destitute of literary jealousy; and of the unaffected welcome
which he gave to a work treading on his own peculiar path, we could give
many instances, did our limits permit. He never withheld a helping hand
to any author who might be considered his rival, and, excepting in one
instance, never peevishly mentioned a living literary author in his
works. The instance we allude to, is a remark on Mr Tytler’s vindication
of queen Mary, and referring the reader to a copy of it below, ["But
there is a person that has written an Inquiry, historical and critical,
into the evidence against Mary, queen of Scots; and has attempted to
refute the foregoing narrative. He quotes a single passage of the
narrative, in which Mary is said simply to refuse answering; and then a
single passage from Goodall, in which she boasts simply that she will
answer; and he very civilly, and almost directly, calls the author a
liar, on account of this pretended contradiction. That whole Inquiry,
from beginning to end, is composed of such scandalous articles; and from
this instance, the reader may judge of the candour, fair dealing,
veracity, and good manners of the inquirer. There are, indeed, three
events in our history, which may be regarded as touchstones of
party-men. An English whig, who asserts the reality of the popish plot;
an Irish Catholic, who denies the massacre in 1641; and a Scottish
Jacobite, who maintains the innocence of queen Mary, must be considered
as men beyond the reach of argument or reason, and must be left to their
prejudices."] it is right to remark, that it seems more dictated by
contempt of the arguments, than spleen towards the person of the author.
Any account of the
literary society in which Hume spent his hours of leisure and
conviviality, would involve us in a complete literary history of
Scotland during that period, unsuitable to a biographical dictionary.
With all the eminent men of that illustrious period of Scottish
literature, he was intimately acquainted; as a philosopher, and as a man
of dignified and respected intellect, he stood at the head of the list
of great names; but in the less calm employments in which literary men
of all periods occupy themselves, he was somewhat shunned, as a person
too lukewarm, indolent, and good-humoured, to support literary warfare.
An amusing specimen of his character in this respect, is mentioned by
M’Kenzie in his life of Home. When two numbers of a periodical work,
entitled. "The Edinburgh Review," were published in 1755, the bosom
friends of Hume, who were the conductors, concealed it from him,
because, "I have heard," says M’ Kenzie, "that they were afraid both of
his extreme good nature, and his extreme artlessness; that, from the
one, their criticisms would have been weakened, or suppressed, and, from
the other, their secret discovered;" and it was not till Hume had
repeated his astonishment that persons in Scotland beyond the sphere of
the literary circle of Edinburgh, could have produced so able a work,
that he was made acquainted with the secret in whimsical revenge of the
want of confidence displayed by his friends, Hume gravely maintained
himself to be the author of a humorous work of Adam Ferguson, "The
History of Sister Peg," and penned a letter to the publisher, which any
person who might peruse it without knowing the circumstances,
could not fail to consider a sincere acknowledgment. Hume was a member
of the Philosophical Society, which afterwards merged into the Royal
Society of Edinburgh, and acted as joint secretary along with Dr Munro
junior. He was also a member of the illustrious Poker Club, and not an
uncongenial one, so long as the members held their unobtrusive
discussion in a tavern, over a small quantity of claret; but when this
method of managing matters was abolished, and the institution merged
into the more consequential denomination of "The Select Society," amidst
the exertions of many eloquent and distinguished men, he was only
remarkable, along with his friend Adam Smith, for having never opened
his mouth.
In 1761, Mr Hume
published the two remaining volumes of the History of England, treating
of the period previous to the accession of the house of Tudor: he tells
us that it was received with "tolerable, and but tolerable success."
Whitaker, Hallam, Turner, and others, have examined their respective
portions of this period of history with care, and pointed out the
inaccuracies of Hume; but the subject did not possess so much political
interest as the later periods, and general readers have not been much
disposed to discuss the question of his general accuracy. Men such as
the first name we have mentioned have attacked him with peevishness on
local and obscure matters of antiquarian research, which a historian can
hardly be blamed for neglecting: others, however, who seem
well-informed, have found serious objections to his accuracy in an
article on the Saxon Chronicle, which appeared in the Retrospective
Review, by an apparently well-informed writer, he is charged in these
terms: "It would be perfectly startling to popular credulity, should all
the instances be quoted in which the text of Hume, in the remoter
periods more especially, is at the most positive variance with the
authorities he pretends to rest upon. In a series of historical
inquiries which the writer of this article had some years since
particular occasion to superintend, aberrations of this kind were so
frequently detected, that it became necessary to lay it down as a rule
never to admit a quotation from that popular historian, when the
authorities he pretends to refer to were not accessible for the purpose
of previous comparison and confirmation."
Hume, now pretty
far advanced in life, had formed the resolution of ending his days in
literary retirement in his own country, when in 1763, he was solicited
by the earl of Hertford to attend him on his embassy to Paris, and after
having declined, on a second invitation he accepted the situation. In
the full blaze of a wide-spread reputation, the philosopher was now
surrounded by a new world of literary rivals, imitators, and admirers,
and he received from a circle of society ever searching for what was
new, brilliant, and striking, numberless marks of distinction highly
flattering to his literary pride, though not unmixed with affectation.
In some very amusing letters to his friends written during this period,
he shows, that if he was weak enough to feel vain of these distinctions,
he had sincerity enough to say so.
The fashionable people of
Paris, and especially the ladies, practised on the patient and
good-humoured philosopher every torture which their extreme desire to
render him. and themselves distinguished could dictate. "From
what has been already said of him," says lord Charlemont, "it
is apparent that his conversation to strangers, and particularly to
Frenchmen, could be little delightful, and still more particularly one
would suppose, to French women and yet no lady’s toilette was complete
without Hume’s attendance. At the opera, his broad unmeaning face was
usually seen entre deux jolis minois. The ladies in France gave
the ton, and the ton was deism." Madame D’Epinay, who terms him " Grand
et gros historiographe d’Angleterre," mentions that it was the will of
one of his entertainers that he should act the part of a sultan,
endeavouring to secure by his eloquence the affection of two beautiful
female slaves. The philosopher was accordingly whiskered, turbaned, and
blackened, and placed on a sofa betwixt two of the most celebrated
beauties of Paris. According to the instructions he had received, he
bent his knees, and struck his breast, (or as Madame has it, "le ventre,")
but his tongue could not be brought to assist his actions further than
by uttering "Eb bien! mes demoiselles.—Eh bien! vous voila donc—Eh bien!
vous voila—vous voila ici?" exclamations which he repeated until he had
exhausted the patience of those he was expected to entertain. [Memoirs
et Correspondance de Madame D’Epinay, iii. 284.]
In 1765, lord
Hertford being appointed lord lieutenant of Ireland, Mr Hume, according
to his expectation, was appointed secretary to the embassy, and he
officiated as chargé d’affaires, until the arrival of the duke of
Richmond. Hume, who had a singular antipathy to England, and who had
previously enjoyed himself only in the midst of his social literary
circle at Edinburgh, insensibly acquired a relish for the good-humoured
politeness and the gayety of the French, and on his return home in 1766,
he left behind him a number of regretted friends, among whom were two
celebrated females, the marchioness De Barbantane and the countess De
Boufflers, who conducted a friendly, and even extremely intimate
correspondence with the philosopher to the day of his death. [General
Corresponence of David Hume, 4to, 1828, passim.]
In the order of time we
come now to the discussion of an incident connected with his residence
on the continent, which forms a very remarkable epoch in the life of
Hume,—we mean his controversy with Rousseau. Before making any
statements, however, it is right to warn our readers that an account of
this memorable transaction, sufficient to give him an acquaintance with
all its peculiarities, would exceed our limits, which permit of but a
slight glance at the incidents, and that indeed it is quite impossible
to form a conception of the grotesqueness of some of the incidents, and
the peculiarities of character so vividly displayed, without a perusal
of the original documents, which are easily accessible, and will well
repay the trouble of perusal.
When in 1762, the
parliament of Paris issued an arret against Rousseau, on account
of his opinions, Hume was applied to by a friend in Paris to discover
for him a retreat in England; Hume willingly undertook a task so
congenial, but it did not suit the celebrated exile at that time to take
advantage of his offer. Rousseau, taking every opportunity to complain
of the misfortunes he suffered, the transaction with Hume was again set
on foot at the instigation of the marchioness De Verdlin; Hume wrote to
Rousseau, offering his services, and the latter returned him an answer
overflowing with extravagant gratitude. Rousseau had, it appeared,
discovered an ingenious method of making himself interesting: he
pretended extreme poverty, and had offers of assistance repeatedly made
him, which he publicly and disdainfully refused, while he had in reality
as Hume afterwards discovered, resources sufficient to provide for his
support. In pure simplicity, Hume formed several designs for
imposing on Rousseau’s ignorance of the world, and establishing him
comfortably in life, without allowing him to know that he was assisted
by others; and the plan finally concluded and acted on was, that he
should be comfortably boarded in the mansion of Mr Davenport, at Wooton,
in the County of Derby, a gentleman who kindly undertook to lull the
suspicions of the irritable philosopher by accepting of a remuneration
amounting to £30 a year. Rousseau arrived in London, and appearing in
public in his Armenian dress, excited much notice, both from the public
in general, and from literary men. Hume, by his interest with the
government obtained for him a pension of £100 a year, which it suited
those in authority to wish should be kept secret. Rousseau expressed
much satisfaction at this condition, but he afterwards declined the
grant, hinting at the secrecy as an impediment to his acceptance of it;
his zealous friend procured the removal of this impediment, and the
pension was again offered, but its publicity afforded a far more
gratifying opportunity of refusal. Immediately after he had retired to
Wooton, with his housekeeper and his dog, nothing occurred apparently to
infringe his amicable intercourse with Hume; but that individual was
little aware of the storm in preparation. The foreign philosopher began
to discover the interest of his first appearance in Britain subsiding.
He was not in a place where he could be followed by crowds of wondering
admirers, the press was lukewarm and regardless, and sometimes ventured
to bestow on him a sneer, and above all no one sought to persecute him.
The feelings which these unpleasing circumstances occasioned, appear to
have been roused to sudden action by a sarcastic letter in the name of
the king of Prussia, of which Rousseau presumed D’Alembert to have been
the author, but which was claimed by Horace Walpole, and which made the
circle of the European journals; and by an anonymous critique of a
somewhat slighting nature, which had issued from a British magazine, but
which appears not to have been remarked or much known at the period. Of
these two productions it pleased Rousseau to presume David Hume the
instigator, and he immediately framed in his mind the idea of a black
project for his ruin, countenanced and devised by his benefactor under
the mask of friendship. Rousseau then wrote a fierce letter to Hume,
charging him in somewhat vague terms with a number of horrible designs,
and in the general manner of those who bring accusations of unutterable
things, referring him to his own guilty breast for a more full
explanation. Hume naturally requested a farther explanation of the
meaning of this ominous epistle, and he received in answer a narrative
which occupies forty printed pages. It were vain to enumerate the
subjects of complaint in this celebrated document. There was an
accusation of terrible affectation on the part of Hume, in getting a
portrait of the unfortunate exile engraved; he had insulted him by
procuring dinners to be sent to his lodgings in London, (a circumstance
which Hume accounted for on the ground of there having been no
convenient chop house in the neighbourhood.) He had also flattered him
(an attention which Hume maintains was not unacceptable at the period,)
with a deep laid malignity. Hume had also formed a plan of opening all
his letters, and examining his correspondence, (an accusation which Hume
denied.) Hume was intimate with the son of an individual who entertained
towards Rousseau a mortal hatred. A narrative of the treatment which
Rousseau had met with at Neufchatel, and which he wished to have
published in England, was delayed at the press; but we shall give in
Rousseau’s own words (as translated) the most deadly article of the
charge, premising, that the circumstances were occasioned by Hume’s
having attempted to impose on him a coach hired and payed for, as a
retour vehicle:—"As we were sitting one evening, after supper, silently
by the fireside, I caught his eye intently fixed on mine, as indeed
happened very often; and that in a manner of which it is very difficult
to give an idea. At that time he gave me a steadfast, piercing look,
mixed with a sneer, which greatly disturbed me. To get rid of the
embarrassment I lay under, I endeavoured to look full at him in my turn;
but in fixing my eyes against his, I felt the most inexpressible terror,
and was obliged soon to turn them away. The speech and physiognomy of
the good David is that of an honest man; but where, great God! did this
good man borrow those eyes he fixes so sternly and unaccountably
on those of his friends? The impression of this look remained with me,
and gave me much uneasiness. My trouble increased even to a degree of
fainting; and if I had not been relieved by an effusion of tears I had
been suffocated. Presently after this I was seized with the most violent
remorse; I even despised myself; till at length, in a transport, which I
still remember with delight, I sprang on his neck, embraced him eagerly,
while almost choked with sobbing, and bathed in tears, I cried out in
broken accents, No, no, David Hume cannot be treacherous, If he be not
the best of men, he must be the basest of mankind. David Hume politely
returned my embraces, and, gently tapping me on the back, repeated
several times, in a good-natured and easy tone, Why, what, my dear sir!
nay, my dear sir! Oh, my dear sir! He said nothing more. I felt my heart
yearn within me. We went to bed; and I set out the next day for the
country."
The charge terminates
with accusing Hume of wilful blindness, in not being aware, from the
neglect with which Rousseau treated him, that the blackness of his heart
had been discovered. Soon after the controversy was terminated, a
ludicrous account of its amusing circumstances was given to the public;
the extreme wit, and humorous pungency of which will excuse our
insertion of it, while we may also mention, that with its air of
raillery, it gives an extremely correct abstract of the charge of
Rousseau. It is worthy of remark, that the terms made use of show the
author to have been colloquially acquainted with the technicalities of
Scottish law, although it is not likely that a professional
person would have introduced terms applicable only to civil
transactions, into the model of a criminal indictment. We have found
this production in the Scots Magazsine. Mr Ritchie says it appeared in
the St James’s Chronicle: in which it may have been first published.
HEADS OF AN INDICTMENT LAID BY J.
J. ROUSSEAU, PHILOSOPHER. AGAINST
D. HUME, Esq.
1. That the said David Hume, to
the great scandal of philosophy, and not having the fitness of things
before his eyes, did concert a plan with Messrs Froachin, Voltaire, and
D’Alembert, to ruin the said J. J. Rousseau for ever by bringing him
over to England, and there settling him to his heart’s content.
2. That the said David Hume did,
with a malicious and traitorous intent, procure, or cause to be
procured, by himself or somebody else, one pension of the yearly value
of £100, or thereabouts, to be paid to the said J. J. Rousseau, on
account of his being a philosopher, either privately or publicly, as to
him the said J. J. Rousseau should seem meet.
3. That the said David Hume did,
one night after he left Paris, put the said J. J. Rousseau in bodily
fear, by talking in his sleep; although the said J. J. Rousseau doth not
know whether the said David Hume was really asleep, or whether he
shammed Abraham, or what he meant.
4. That, at another time, as the
said David Hume and the said J. J. Rousseau were sitting opposite each
other by the fire-side in London, he the said David Hume did look at
him, the said J. J. Rousseau, in a manner of which it is difficult to
give any idea; that he the said J. J. Rousseau, to get rid of the
embarrassment he was under, endeavoured to look full at him, the said
David Hume, in return, to try if he could not stare him out of
countenance; but in fixing his eyes against his, the said David Hume’s,
he felt the most inexpressible terror, and was obliged to turn them
away, insomuch that the said J. J. Rousseau doth in his heart think and
believe, as much as he believes anything, that he the said David Hume is
a certain composition of a white-witch and a rattle-snake.
5.
That the said David Hume on the same evening, after politely returning
the embraces of him, the said J. J. Rousseau, and gently tapping him on
the back, did repeat several times, in a good-natured, easy tone, the
words, "Why, what, my dear sir! Nay, my dear sir! Oh my dear sir!"—From
whence the said J. J. Rousseau doth conclude, as he thinks upon solid
and sufficient grounds, that he the said David Hume is a traitor; albeit
he, the said J. J. Rousseau doth acknowledge, that the physiognomy of
the good David is that of an honest man, all but those terrible eyes of
his, which he must have borrowed; but he the said J. J. Rousseau vows to
God he cannot conceive from whom or what.
6. That the said David Hume hath
more inquisitiveness about him than becometh a philosopher, and did
never let slip an opportunity of being alone with the governante of him
the said J. J. Rousseau.
7. That the said David Hume did
most atrociously and flagitiously put him the said J. J. Rousseau,
philosopher, into a passion; as knowing that then he would be guilty of
a number of absurdities.
8. That the said David Hume must
have published Mr Walpole’s letter in the newspapers, because, at that
time, there was neither man, woman, nor child in the island of Great
Britain, but the said David Hume, the said J. J Rousseau, and the
printers of the several newspapers aforesaid.
9. That somebody in a certain
magazine, and somebody else in a certain newspaper, said something
against him the said John James Rousseau, which he, the said J. J.
Rousseau, is persuaded, for the reason above mentioned, could be nobody
but the said David Hume.
10. That the said J. J. Rousseau
knows, that he, the said David Hume, did open and peruse the letters of
him the said J. J Rousseau, because he one day saw the said David Hume
go out of the room after his own servant, who had at that time a letter
of the said J. J. Rousseau’s in his hands; which must have been in order
to take it from the servant, open it, and read the contents.
11. That the said David Hume did,
at the instigation of the devil, in a most wicked and unnatural manner,
send, or cause to be sent, to the lodgings of him, the said J. J.
Rousseau, one dish of beef steaks, thereby meaning to insinuate, that he
the said J. J. Rousseau was a beggar, and came over to England to ask
alms: whereas, be it known to all men by these presents, that he, the
said John James Rousseau, brought with him the means of sustenance, and
did not come with an empty purse; as he doubts not but he can live upon
his labours, with the assistance of his friends; and in short can do
better without the said David Hume than with him.
12. That besides all these facts
put together, the said J. J. Rousseau did not like a certain appearance
of things on the whole.
Rousseau, with his
accustomed activity on such occasions, loudly repeated his complaints to
the world, and filled the ears of his friends with the villany of his
seeming benefactor. The method which Hume felt himself compelled to
adopt for his own justification was one which proved a severe punishment
to his opponent; he published the correspondence, with a few explanatory
observations, and was ever afterwards silent on the subject. Some have
thought that he ought to have remained silent from the commencement, and
that such was his wish we have ample proof from his correspondence at
that period, but to have continued so in the face of the declarations of
his enemy, he must have been more than human; and the danger which his
fame incurred from the acts of a man who had the means of making what he
said respected, will at least justify him.
Hume had returned to
Edinburgh with the renewed intention of there spending his days in
retirement, and in the affluence which his frugality, perseverance,
genius, and good conduct had acquired for him; but in 1765, at the
solicitation of general Conway, he acted for that gentleman as an
undersecretary of state. It is probable that he did not make a better
under-secretary than most men of equally diligent habits might have
done, and nothing occurs worthy of notice during his tenure of that
office, which he resigned in January, 1768, when general Conway resigned
his secretaryship.
We have nothing to record
from this period till we come to the closing scene of the philosopher’s
life. In the spring of 1775, he was struck with a disorder of the
bowels, which he soon became aware brought with it the sure
prognostication of a speedy end. "I now," he says "reckon upon a speedy
dissolution. I have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and what
is more strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person,
never suffered a moment’s abatement of my spirits, insomuch, that were I
to name the period of my life, which I should most choose to pass over
again, I might be tempted to point to this latter period. I possess the
same ardour as ever in study, and the same gayety in company. I
consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by dying, cuts off only a
few years of infirmities, and though I see many symptoms of my
literary reputation breaking out at last with additional lustre, I know
that I could have but few years to enjoy it. It is difficult to be more
detached from life than I am at present."
The entreaties of his
friends prevailed on Hume to make a last effort to regain his health, by
drinking the Bath waters, and he left Edinburgh for that purpose in the
month of April, after having prepared his will, and written the memoir
of himself, so often referred to. As he passed through Morpeth, he met
his affectionate friends John Home the poet and Adam Smith, who had come
from London for the purpose of attending him on his journey, and who
would have passed him had they not seen his servant standing at the inn
door. The meeting of these friends must have been melancholy, for they
were strongly attached to each other, and the intimacy betwixt the
philosopher and the enthusiastic poet Home, seemed to have been
strengthened by the striking contrast of their temperaments. The
intercourse of the friends on their journey was supported by Hume with
cheerfulness, and even with gayety; and he never morosely alluded to his
prospects of dissolution. On one occasion, when Home was officiously
preparing his pistols, (for he was usually inspired with a military
enthusiasm,) Hume said to him, "you shall have your humour, John, and
fight with as many highwaymen as you please, for I have too little of
life left to be an object worth saving." Of this journey a journal was
found among the papers of Home, in. the handwriting of the poet, which
has been fortunately given to the world by Mr M’Kenzie. Regretting that
we cannot quote the whole of this interesting document, we give a
characteristic extract.
"Newcastle, Wednesday,
24th Aprile.
"Mr Hume not quite so well in the
morning; says, that he had set out merely to please his friends; that he
would go on to please them; that Ferguson and Andrew Stuart, (about whom
we had been talking) were answerable for shortening his life one week a
piece; for, says he, you will allow Xenophon to be good authority; and
he lays it down, that suppose a man is dying, nobody has a right to kill
him. He set out in this vein, and continued all the stage in this
cheerful and talking humour. It was a fine day, and we went on to
Durham—from that to Darlington, where we passed the night.
"In the evening Mr Hume
thinks himself more easy and light than he has been any time for three
months. In the course of our conversation we touched upon the national
affairs. He still maintains, that the national debt must be the ruin of
Britain, and laments that the two most civilized nations, the British
and French, should be on the decline; and the barbarians, the Goths and
Vandals of Germany and Russia, should be rising in power and renown. The
French king, he says, has ruined the state by recalling the parliaments.
Mr Hume thinks that there is only one man in France fit to be minister,
(the archbishop of Toulouse,) of the family of Brienne. He
told me some curious anecdotes with regard to this prelate, that he
composed and corrected without writing: that Mr Hume had heard him
repeat an elegant oration of an hour and a quarte in length, which he
had never written. Mr Hume talking with the princess Beauvais about
French policy, said that he knew but one man in France capable of
restoring its greatness; the lady said she knew one too, and wished to
hear if it was the same; they accordingly named each their man, and it
was this prelate."
The journey had the
effect of partly alleviating Mr Hume’s disorder, but it returned with
renewed virulence. While his strength permitted such an attempt, he
called a meeting of his literary friends to partake with him of a
farewell dinner. The invitation sent to Dr Blair is extant,
and is in these terms: "Mr John Hume, alias Home, alias
the late lord conservator, alias the late minister of the
gospel at Athelstaneford, has calculated matters so as to arrive
infallibly with his friend in St Davids Street, on Wednesday evening. He
has asked several of Dr Blair’s friends to dine with him there on
Thursday, being the 4th of July, and begs the favour of the doctor to
make one of the number." Subjoined to the card there is this note, in Dr
Blair’s hand writing, "Wem. This the last note received from
David Hume. He died on the 25th of August, 1776." This mournful
festival, in honour as it were of the departure of the most esteemed and
illustrious member of their brilliant circle, was attended by lord
Elibank, Adam Smith, Dr Blair, Dr Black, professor Ferguson, and John
Home. On Sunday the 25th August, 1776, Mr Hume expired. Of the manner of
his death, after the beautiful picture which has been drawn of the event
by his friend Adam Smith, we need not enlarge. The calmness of his last
moments, unexpected by many, was in every one’s mouth at the period, and
it is still well known. He was buried on a point of rock overhanging the
old town of Edinburgh, now surrounded by buildings, but then bare and
wild—the spot he had himself chosen for the purpose. A conflict
betwixt a vague horror at his imputed opinions, and respect for the
individual who had passed among them a life so irreproachable, created a
sensation among the populace of Edinburgh, and a crowd of people
attended the body to its grave, which for some time was an object of
curiosity. According to his request, Hume’s Dialogues on Natural
Religion were published after his death, a beautifully classic piece of
composition, bringing us back to the days of Cicero. It treats of many
of the speculations propounded in his other works.