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Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029078834 
 
DAVID 
 HUME 
 
FAMOUS SCOTS SERIES 
 
 The jollffwing Volumes are now ready : — 
 
 THOMAS CARLYLE. By Hector C. Macpherson. 
 
 ALLAN RAMSAY. By Oliphant Smeaton. 
 
 HUGH MILLER. By W. Keith Leask. 
 
 JOHN KNOX. By A. TAYLOR INNES. 
 
 ROBERT BURNS. By Gabriel Setoun. 
 
 THE BALLADISTS. By John Geddie. 
 
 RICHARD CAMERON. By Professor Herkless. 
 
 SIR JAMES Y. SIMPSON. By Eve Blantyee Simpson. 
 
 THOMAS CHALMERS. By Professor W. Garden 
 Blaikie. 
 
 JAMES BOSWELL. By W. KEITH LeASK. 
 
 TOBIAS SMOLLETT. By Oliphant Smeaton. 
 
 FLETCHER OF SALTOUN. By G. W. T. Omond. 
 
 THE BLACKWOOD GROUP. By Sir George Douglas. 
 
 NORMAN MACLEOD. By John Wellwood. 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. By Professor Saintsbury. 
 
 KIRKCALDY OF GRANGE. By LOUIS A. BARBfi. 
 
 ROBERT FERGUSSON. By A. B. Grosart. 
 
 JAMES THOMSON. By William Bayne. 
 
 MUNGO PARK. By T. BANKS Maclachlan. 
 
 DAVID HUME. By Professor Calderwood. 
 
DAVID 
 HUME! 
 
 . BY 
 
 HENRY 
 CALDERWOOD 
 
 FAMOUS 
 •SCOTS- 
 •SERIES' 
 
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 PUBLISHED BY : 
 
 charles •9^<£si 
 scrtbner's sons 
 
 JCJ^tr NEW YORK 
 
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PREFACE 
 
 In the following pages I have attempted to compress into 
 small compass an account of the life of one of the most 
 illustrious Scotsmen of last century. 
 
 Notwithstanding Hume's vast ability and many services, 
 his name has hitherto awakened the dislike of the ma- 
 jority of his fellow-countrymen, because of his openly 
 avowed scepticism concerning views reverently cherished 
 by Christian men. 
 
 At this date, however, we may claim to have reached 
 the period when it is possible to survey the writings with 
 more of the historic spirit, or at least, with that ' freedom 
 from prejudice ' for which Hume pleads ; with enlarged 
 views as to liberty of thought, and with perhaps greater 
 indifiference to the disturbing influence of the opinions so 
 characteristic of the Historian. 
 
 The keen antagonism of the religious men of the time 
 induced the country to regard Hume as an ' Infidel,' a 
 ' Philistine,' and an ' Arch-Sceptic,' a good man who 
 had gone astray. Now, when the enmity against him has 
 in great measure become traditional, it seems possible to 
 place him in a truer light, to shew that he is not an 
 Infidel, that he scorns even the name of Deist, and that 
 the man who himself challenged the evidence for belief in 
 miracles maintains [Essays II., sec. x., p. 147] 'that the 
 
6 PREFACE 
 
 Christian religion not only was at first attended with 
 miracles, but even at this day cannot be believed by any 
 reasonable person without one.' 
 
 So readers may be willing to consider afresh the 
 scepticism and the religious faith ; and they may even 
 be able to find, in Hume, a witness for Christianity 
 whose testimony is in some respects the more valuable 
 since beset with so many and such grave doubts. Going 
 further than this, it is probable that a renewed study of 
 Hume's writings may lead us to a fairer interpretation of 
 the attitude of those, in our own day, whose avowed 
 doubts have induced earnest men to classify them amongst 
 the irreligious. 
 
 [Note. — At the time of Professor Calderwood's death, the MS. 
 for this volume was all but complete, and it has been printed as it 
 was left by him. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, only a rough shorthand draft of the preface 
 had been drawn up, and, while every effort has been made to convey 
 the thoughts expressed, I am not certain that the wording is in strict 
 accord with the author's intention. W.L.C.] 
 
 Edinburgh, February 1898, 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Early Life .•■..,. 9 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 Search for a Vocation . . . , .17 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 Hume and his Surroundings . . . .24 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Hume as a Philosopher — his Philosophy of Under- 
 standing . . . . . .33 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 Hume as Historian . . . , , -65 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 Hume in the Government Service . . .80 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 Hume's Attitude as to Religion . , , .91 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 Hume among his Friends . . , . ■ 127 
 
DAVID HUME 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 EARLY LIFE 
 
 David Hume was born in Edinburgh on the 26th of 
 April 1711 (old style). The house of his birth is un- 
 known, but his father records that he was born ' within 
 the Tron Parish,' then in the midst of the city. His 
 inheritance was a favoured one. He was a healthy 
 child, of a happy family, the home being in a beautiful 
 district of Berwickshire. He had the companionship 
 of a brother and sister, was in the midst of home 
 comforts, and he had around the house, with its park, 
 its trees, and its banks sloping down to the Whitadder, 
 all facilities a boy can have for the frolics of child- 
 hood, and for experiencing the stimulating influences 
 of nature. 
 
 His father, Joseph Hume of Ninewells, which is near by 
 Chirnside, was a member of the Faculty of Advocates, 
 who, however, did not practise at the Bar, but led the Ufe 
 of a country gentleman, dwelling constantly in the midst of 
 his family. David's mother was a daughter of Sir David 
 Falconer of Newton, Lord President of the Court of 
 Session, 1682-1685. Both of David Hume's parents 
 
lo FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 were thus in the midst of associations of the legal 
 profession, and they had free access to the literary life of 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 The Humes of Ninewells were a remote branch of the 
 family of Lord Home of Dunglas. In Drummond's 
 Histories of Noble British Families* the Humes of 
 Ninewells are placed along with the Dunbars and 
 Dundases as belonging to the same stock as the Earls 
 of Home. The name ' Hume ' is variously written in 
 the old records — Hwme, Huyme, Horn, and Home. Our 
 philosopher stuck to ' Hume,' maintaining it to be the 
 correct form. 
 
 In Drummond's work a drawing of Ninewells is given, 
 which shows a house of three storeys and attic, f The 
 front door is entered by steps, with an iron hand-raU on 
 both sides. The ground floor is sunk below the level 
 of the front steps, but the slope of the bank towards 
 the Whitadder is such that this storey must have appeared 
 in the rear completely above ground. The old house is a 
 substantial country structure, after the manner of lairds' 
 houses common over the south of Scotland. The present 
 house was built in 1838. 
 
 As soon as the family were ready, after the birth of 
 David, for the long journey, they returned to their country 
 mansion, bringing to their home the new arrival, a child 
 of marked hidividuality, who was afterwards to make a stir 
 in the world. Ninewells was the scene of David Hume's 
 early training, and to this quiet country dwelling he 
 returned again and again in subsequent life, finding its 
 
 * Pickering, 1846, vol. ii., p. 27. 
 
 t See also Chambers' Book of Days, April 26. 
 
DAVID HUME ii 
 
 retirement favourable to the abstract thought and the 
 historical studies in which he delighted. 
 
 A visit to Ninewells explains this attraction, for it 
 presents a typical piece of quiet lowland scenery. It is 
 reached by rail, on the branch line from Reston to Duns. 
 Chirnside is about a mile from the station bearing its 
 name. On approaching the village its houses are seen in 
 two long lines stretching over the ridge of a steep hill, on 
 the road to Ayton and Eyemouth. Those who dwell on 
 the height have a splendid view across the Whitadder, 
 over miles of country, closed in by ' Cheviot's mountains 
 lone,' a famous portion of the Scottish borders. Before 
 entering the village the road to Berwick-on-Tweed, which 
 is only about nine miles distant, passes off to the right. 
 Hume was accustomed to head his letters, 'Ninewells, near 
 Berwick.' On the first bend along this road Ninewells 
 comes into view. From the road there is an easy descent 
 towards the plateau on which the new house stands. In 
 passing round the present house it is seen that terraces 
 have been formed overlooking the Whitadder. These are 
 obviously accompaniments of the modern house, suggesting 
 that in the surroundings familiar to David Hume a more 
 gradual declivity led the boys to the Whitadder, a stream 
 greatly esteemed by anglers in bygone times. ' Nine- 
 wells ' has its name from a series of springs a little above 
 the house, forming a burn which runs to the Whitadder. 
 The only feature of the olden times is found in the 
 offices, built to the west, constituting three sides of a 
 square. The steps to the coachman's house are hollowed 
 in the middle, and an old stone vase, set over the water 
 trough, bears tokens of having come from the old mansion 
 
12 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 house. Around these ofifices David must often have 
 shared in sport when fun ran high. 
 
 Few particulars as to the early life of David Hume are 
 left on record. He early suffered by the loss of his 
 father, who having died when he was still an infant, had 
 not the opportunity of aiding in the mental development 
 of his youngest child. The mother became the sole ruler 
 of the family, and lived not only to train all her children, 
 but to witness the literary success of her youngest boy. 
 She was devoted to the welfare of her children. In My 
 Own Life, written by David Hume when he was sixty-five 
 years of age, he describes his mother as ' a woman of 
 singular merit, who, though young and handsome, 
 devoted herself entirely to the rearing and educating of 
 her children.' That she gained a large influence over 
 them is certain. We cannot determine what was the 
 debt of obligation which David owed to his mother, 
 but, without doubt, it was a heavy one. Before her 
 death occurred he was in his thirty-eighth year and 
 widely known in the literary world. When the announce- 
 ment of her decease reached him in London, the Hon. Mr 
 Boyle tells that when he entered Hume's room ' he found 
 him in the deepest affliction and in a flood of tears.' 
 These were the tokens of the sacred regard he cherished 
 for her memory, and of his consciousness of the profound 
 influence she had exerted over his life. 
 
 One record lingers, which, if it be trustworthy, gives us 
 a glimpse into boyhood's years, and shows his mother's 
 judgment of her younger son. 'Oor Davie is a fine, 
 gude-natured crater, but uncommon wake-minded.' This 
 is delightful ; it hardly could be an invention. It is, 
 
DAVID HUME 13 
 
 however, perplexing to Huxley,* as, indeed, it must be to 
 those who are strangers to our vernacular. Hill Burton 
 is hardly more successful, however, in supposing that it 
 resulted from observation and his phlegmatic disposition 
 {Life, I., 294.) How could his mother attribute weak- 
 ness to a son who was ' an intellectual athlete ? ' This 
 is Huxley's question. Let a Scotchman consider in 
 what sense a Scotch mother would make such an 
 admission. If Huxley had lived in her day, and said 
 to her what he has written, what amusement, indigna- 
 tion, and then amazement would have swept through 
 her mind as she heard his note of bewilderment. 
 Imagine Davie's questioning and doubting when others 
 had no doubt, and it will appear in no way unnatural 
 that she should consider her boy ' feshed wi' a wake- 
 ness.' It is undesignedly suggestive that this story seems 
 to Burton appropriately introduced in relation with the 
 mother's death when Hume is speaking of his religious 
 opinions (vol. i., 294). Go back to his boyhood days. 
 Imagine the childish chatter of her Benjamin, such as 
 would never cross the lips of John or of his sister. Ir 
 this, I fancy, we find the occasion for her remark on his 
 'misguided' queries. A mother's affectionate interest is 
 here even when she notes the apparently senseless character 
 of many of his questions. That John kept in the beaten track 
 was to her no proof of intellectual force. But Davie had 
 quite distinguishing marks. He was ' a rale gude-hearted 
 crater ; ' this a mother could appreciate, and all friends of 
 his later life recognised it ; and yet he was but ' uncommon 
 wake-minded,' as witness his questions flying around a 
 
 * Hume, p. 3. 
 
14 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 mother's ears, and needing some kind of answer, though 
 hardly deserving any. Those child utterances, which 
 seem weak when first heard, often testify to a direction of 
 thought not common in child life. This distinction is 
 aptly put by Rousseau, who says, ' Nothing is more difficult 
 than to distinguish in infancy real stupidity from that 
 apparent and deceptive stupidity which is the indication 
 of strong characters ' (Rousseau's Emik, Payne's Transl., 
 p. 67). These utterances are seemingly too strong 
 to be attributed to a child. Hume's mother marked 
 the uncommon, and, not unnaturally, credited it to 
 his ' wakeness.' She would have been startled, pro- 
 bably irritated, had she been told that she meant to 
 suggest 'stupidity' as characteristic of her Davie, even 
 when his talk showed a disregard of common sense. His 
 was an uncommon weakness, associated with uncommon 
 acuteness. 
 
 Hume's mother was a woman of penetration. How 
 David appreciated her devotion we have seen, and his 
 words tell us how much her children had recognised her 
 ability, as well as her affection. Mr Burton gives us this 
 description of her. ' Mrs Hume was evidently an accom- 
 plished woman, worthy of the sympathy and respect of her 
 distinguished son, and could not have failed to see and to 
 appreciate from its earliest dawnings the originality and 
 power of his intellect. Her portrait, which I have seen, 
 represents a thin but pleasing countenance, expressive of 
 great intellectual acuteness' (Life of Hume, I., p. 294). 
 
 David Hume owed a large part of his education to his 
 mother. Her power shines through his. During his 
 school training he won no special distinction. His ability 
 
DAVID HUME 15 
 
 was not of the kind that shines in the routine of school 
 work. His progress and his promise were, however, 
 undoubted. He was sent too early to the University of 
 Edinburgh to reap the full advantage of academic study. 
 The disadvantage of this was great, but his was not a 
 mind to be led by teachers, even in philosophy, however 
 much he might have gained by academic discipline. Even 
 at sixteen years of age * he gives evidence of a penetration 
 and acuteness of thought which tell of the influence of 
 philosophy in his early training — his mother's philosophy 
 certainly, with as much of academic influence as he had 
 received. This freely flowing letter is a precious bit of 
 self-revelation. ' I am entirely confined to myself and 
 library since we parted. 
 
 Ea sola voluptas 
 Solamenque mali. 
 
 And indeed to me they are not a small one ; for I take 
 no more of them than I please ; for I hate task-reading, 
 and I diversify them at pleasure — sometimes a philosopher, 
 sometimes a poet — which change is not unpleasant nor 
 disserviceable neither. . . . The philosopher's wise man, 
 and the poet's husbandman agree in peace of mind, in a 
 liberty and independency on fortune, and contempt of 
 riches, power, and glory. Everything is placid and quiet 
 in both; nothing perturbed or disordered. . . . My 
 peace of mind is not sufficiently confirmed by philosophy 
 to withstand the blows of fortune. This greatness, eleva- 
 tion of soul is to be found only in study and contempla- 
 tion — this can alone teach us to look down on human 
 
 * Witness the letter to Michael Ramsay, dated July 4, 1727, Hill 
 Burton's Life, I., p. 12. 
 
1 6 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 accidents. You must allow me to talk thus, like a 
 philosopher ; 'tis a subject I think much on, and could 
 talk all day long of. But I know I must not trouble you. 
 Wherefore I wisely practise my rules, which prescribe to 
 check our appetite ; and, for a mortification, shall descend 
 from these superior regions to low and ordinary life ; and 
 so far as to tell you that John has bought a horse j he 
 thinks it neither cheap nor dear. It cost six guineas.' 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 SEARCH FOR A VOCATION 
 
 For a young man of David Hume's individuality, the 
 search for a vocation was a perplexity. He was not made 
 for the common work of life ; interest in questions of 
 abstract thought swayed his mind, practically unfitting 
 him for ordinary occupations. He desired above all 
 things the life of a student ; but he tells us of the diffi- 
 culties in his way [My Own Life). He was a younger son 
 in a family not rich ; his brother being destined to become 
 sole proprietor of Ninewells. ' My very slender fortune 
 being unsuitable to this plan of life, and my health being 
 a little broken by my ardent application, I was tempted, 
 or rather forced, to make a very feeble trial for entering a 
 more active scene of life.' A few sentences from his 
 ' letter to a physician,' when seeking guidance as to health, 
 will show the man we have before us. There were, how- 
 ever, strong adverse forces within his own nature. 
 
 'From my earliest infancy I found always a strong in- 
 clination to books and letters. As our college education in 
 Scotland, extending little further than the languages, ends 
 commonly when we are about fourteen or fifteen years of 
 age, I was after that left to my own choice in my reading, 
 and found it incline me equally to books of reasoning 
 and philosophy, and to poetry and the polite authors. . . . 
 
1 8 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 Upon examination of these, I found a certain boldness of 
 temper growing in me, which was not inclined to submit 
 to any authority in these subjects, but led me to seek out 
 some new medium, by which truth might be established. 
 After much study and reflection on this, at least, when I 
 was about eighteen years of age, there seemed to be opened 
 up to me a new scene of thought which transported me 
 beyond measure, and made me, with an ardour natural to 
 young men, throw up every other pleasure or business 
 to apply entirely to it ' (letter to a physician, Burton's 
 Life, I., p. 31). In this the inner life of David Hume is 
 disclosed. Another thing, however, is needed to complete 
 the view. He is with the full ardour of his being a man 
 of society. He delights in the companionship of his 
 fellows, works surely into the intimacy of close friendship, 
 and is ever ready for rippling, glancing humour, giving and 
 receiving electric impulse from casual acquaintance. These 
 features are not commonly associated, but they were 
 united in him. There are two natures in the man, two 
 lives within this one life ; the inner, that of the abstract 
 thinker living within a charmed circle where he does not 
 meet friends, save one or two, and where he cultivates 
 an independence that owns no authority ; and the outer life 
 of the man who is free of spirit, ready for all occurrences, 
 and given to a playfulness of disposition, and even joviality, 
 which to most onlookers must seem inconsistent with the 
 high philosophic gift. Yet these two natures are indis- 
 solubly united — they are constantly appearing in parallel 
 relations as if they were distinct. Together they consti- 
 tute a nature rarely met with. It were easy, looking now 
 at the one feature, now at the other, to bring home a 
 
DAVID HUME 
 
 19 
 
 charge of inconsistency. In a sense, he is inconsistently 
 a thinker who scorns the ordinary levels of thought ; a 
 humorist who revels in the pleasures of the passing hour 
 as if life were a play. These apparently contradictory 
 features are as prominent as they have ever appeared in 
 any human life — together they constitute the actual David 
 Hume — philosopher and man of the world. In one 
 way he is remote from all common interests ; in another 
 he is in the heart of them all. Mainly, he is borne 
 onward by the force of the inner impulse which is that of 
 a profound philosophic thinker ; nevertheless, you do not 
 know the man, if you do not discover the irrepressible 
 humorist. The chief work of his life is beyond the obser- 
 vation of others — it can be known only through his books ; 
 hardly at all through his conversation ; but in his relaxa- 
 tion he may be known to all, for he gravitates to centres 
 where men and women enjoy pleasant society, where con- 
 verse is free, and all diversities of feeling find ready 
 response. There is nothing more natural for him than to 
 enumerate these as ' the two greatest and purest pleasures 
 of human life, study and society ' (Intro, to the Dialogues 
 Concerning Natural Religion). 
 
 To such a man as David Hume the inner bias of life 
 must involve him in serious difficulties when he attempts 
 a practical view of his position — when he feels 'forced,' 
 as he tells us in roundabout fashion natural in the circum- 
 stances, ' to make a very feeble trial for entering on a 
 more active scene of life.' These are the words of a man 
 who already feels himself unequal to the task. Not being 
 a man of independent means, he must seek means of sup- 
 port — but where, and how? The need for asking and 
 
20 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 answering this brought him into the most serious diffi- 
 culties, and involved him in distressing failures. How 
 could such a man settle down to be a successful profes- 
 sional man or an enterprising man of business ? 
 
 Here is the beginning of his trouble, as recalled late 
 in life : — ' My studious disposition, my sobriety, and my 
 industry, gave my family the notion that the law was a 
 proper profession for me ; but I felt an insurmountable 
 aversion to everything but the pursuits of philosophy and 
 general learning ' (My Own Life). In his ' letter to a 
 physician,' written when he was in the midst of his diffi- 
 culties, at sixteen years of age, he says, ' The law, which 
 was the business I designed to follow, appeared nauseous 
 to me.' The technicalities of legal practice had no 
 attraction for the speculative thinker. 
 
 From that, he turns to business. There is an incon- 
 gruity in the fancy that he could be placed in harness, to 
 serve a master whose orders should be law. The urgent 
 need for securing income in some way is made manifest 
 by the contemplation of this alternative. 'In 1734, I 
 went to Bristol with some recommendations to eminent 
 merchants, but in a few months found that scene totally 
 unsuitable to me.' This short summary disposes of the 
 whole venture. Truly ' a very feeble trial for entering on 
 a more active scene of life,' from one who had ' recom- 
 mendation to a considerable trader.' 
 
 As if to dispose of all his uncertainties, Hume breaks 
 away from Scotland, as well as from Bristol, and goes oflf 
 to France to prosecute his studies. No clear light is 
 thrown on this resolve, or on the reasons for his choice 
 of place. Doubtless, the fame of the Encyclopsedists had 
 
DAVID HUME 21 
 
 some attraction ; but he does not go to seek their guid- 
 ance, nor even to avail himself of the special advantages 
 connected with the great educational institutions of Paris. 
 What he intends when he speaks of ' studies,' is the unre- 
 strained pursuit of his own speculations. He goes to 
 follow out his studies ' in a country retreat.' He found 
 such a retreat, first at Rheims, and afterwards at La 
 Fleche, in Anjou — odd retreat to be chosen by Hume, 
 in the Jesuits' College, and that, too, in which Descartes 
 had been a scholar. He was twenty-three years of age ; 
 and he has made his resolve with unwavering determina- 
 tion. Here is the plan he has sketched. ' I resolved to 
 make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency, to main- 
 tain unimpaired my independency, and to regard every 
 object as contemptible except the improvement of my 
 talents in literature ' {Afy Own Life). 
 
 In frugality he was a genuine Scot, able to make little go 
 a long way ; contented when he fared on the plainest, for 
 intellectual interests absorbed him. He looked back with 
 special interest on that period of philosophic effort. He 
 passed ' three years very agreeably in that country.' ' I 
 there laid that plan of life which I have steadily and 
 successfully pursued.' During this period, he says, ' I 
 composed my Treatise of Human Nature,' — a wonderful 
 achievement for so young a man. 
 
 In 1737 he returned to London. Being again on 
 British soil, with his urgent work accomplished, he writes 
 thus to Henry Home (Lord Kames), — ' I have a great 
 inclination to go down to Scotland this spring, to see 
 my friends and have your advice concerning my philo- 
 sophical discoveries ; but cannot overcome a certain 
 
S2 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 shamefacedness I have to appear among you, at my 
 years, without having got a settlement, or so much as 
 attempted any' (Burton's Life, I., p. 63). He had the 
 Treatise with him in finished form. By the end of 
 1738 it was published. This work was destined to 
 exert great influence in the history of philosophic thought. 
 There was no immediate sign of this at first. He him- 
 self reports : — ' It fell dead-born from the press.' Slight 
 as was the impression made at its first appearance, it was 
 destined to awaken the keenest interest of the thinkers of 
 the day. It was an exposition of Empiricism, leading to 
 Scepticism as its logical outcome, and was, in effect, a 
 challenge to Philosophy to produce a doctrine of Certainty. 
 Sceptical thought had for him a fascination. The words 
 of Cleanthes to Philo apply most aptly to their author, — 
 ' Of all men living, the task which you have undertaken, 
 of raising doubts and objections, suits you best, and seems 
 in a manner natural and unavoidable to you ' {Dialg., p. 
 81). 
 
 This first literary effort, published when he was only 
 twenty-eight, marked him out as a distinguished thinker, 
 an adept in abstract thought, consistent to a degree, con- 
 tent with uncertainty where certainty seemed unattainable 
 — conspicuously the ' speculative sceptic,' with ' a certain 
 boldness of temper growing in him; not inclined to submit 
 to any authority.' Believing firmly in the certainties, but 
 with a critical and sceptical bias, he seemed to meet the 
 demands of philosophy for setting forth the vast range of 
 uncertainties with which our intelligence is surrounded. 
 It was in this wide region he hoped to make ' discoveries ' 
 which the world would acknowledge. In his profound 
 
DAVID HUME 23 
 
 reflection, he was first stimulated, and next hampered, by 
 the inadequate philosophy of the times. That his dis- 
 cussions included, so largely as they did, sceptical issues, 
 was the fact which gave to them their power to stimulate 
 later thought. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 HUME AND HIS SURROUNDINGS 
 
 Hume had taken his place in the literature of his country 
 and of the world. He himself, however, was depressed 
 with sense of failure, for he says, ' Never was literary 
 attempt more unfortunate than my Treatise of Human 
 Nature.^ He felt disappointed that it did not even ' excite 
 a murmur among the zealots.' His power had been con- 
 centrated to the utmost, but renown did not come to him, 
 as he had anticipated. What he could do in philosophic 
 thought was accomplished, and he was convinced that the 
 writing was not of slight significance; but the reading 
 public did not know what had been done — his contribu- 
 tion was not of the character to attract readers. He was 
 dispirited, in consequence, but he was not turned aside 
 from his 'plan of life.' He says, 'In the end of 1738, I 
 published my treatise, and immediately went down to my 
 mother and my brother, who lived at his country house.' 
 Here the thinker is once more lost to view, concentrating 
 on fresh effort, of which the world was to learn by-and-by. 
 ' Being naturally of a cheerful and sanguine temper,' he 
 adds, ' I very soon recovered the blow, and prosecuted, 
 with great ardour, my studies in the country.' 
 
 Henceforth, this retired student has his place among 
 the literary men of Scotland. He is a man of massive 
 24 
 
DAVID HUME 25 
 
 figure, stout in build, with rounded, ruddy countenance, 
 not of marked expression — this lack being often remarked 
 upon when he becomes a conspicuous figure in the society 
 of Paris. The lack described was, in part, the effect of 
 the concentrated abstraction which engrossed his life 
 through long periods of work. In other moods, over- 
 flowing humour shines through the placid countenance. 
 Reminiscences and portraits support these diverse repre- 
 sentations. A portrait of him in early life, in possession 
 of the University of Edinburgh, shews him in a less 
 matured stage than portraits more familiar. In the 
 National Gallery of Scotland there is a good picture of 
 him, in scarlet tunic, such as he donned when Secretary 
 of the Military Legation at Vienna and Turin — a red coat 
 which, report says, did not give him the approved military 
 air. Over against this picture in the Scottish Gallery is 
 hung a portrait of Rousseau, enabling visitors to compare 
 the faces of these literary celebrities, once fast friends, 
 afterwards bitter foes. Of the two portraits in Hill 
 Burton's Life, that in the first volume is from the me- 
 dallion by Tassie — a thoughtful, rather heavy, face, with 
 wig obscuring the individuality of the subject. That in the 
 second volume is from a bust, and is somewhat startling 
 at first. It must be at fault in its proportions ; but it 
 presents a strong face, exhibiting much more of the re- 
 cognised ability of the philosopher than other portraits do. 
 It suggests the intellectual power and the commanding 
 force which were noted characteristics of the man. 
 
 In nature, in habits, and in all mental associations, 
 Hume was intensely Scotch. Indeed, the strength of 
 national bias, intensified by existing jealousies between 
 
2 6 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 the united countries, tempted even a man of philo- 
 sophic spirit to cherish antagonism to the English 
 people and to English ways, the unrestrained expression 
 of which surprises us at this distance of time (Hill, 
 Letters, p. 56-64). He found delight in the rural life 
 of Berwickshire, and took kindly to the vernacular 
 heard all around, but was specially attracted to the 
 literary circles of the Scottish capital. He was happy in 
 the practice of economy— doing his work bravely as many 
 had done before him, ' A man of punctual habits, and of 
 unwearied industry.' He was proud of Scotland as 'a 
 country where the avenues to learning are easy.' To his 
 friend, Michael Ramsay, the philosopher thus describes 
 his position at forty years of age : — ' While interest 
 remains as at present, I have ;^5o a year, a hundred 
 pounds' worth of books, great store of linens and fine 
 clothes, and near ;^ioo in my pocket; along with order, 
 frugality, a strong spirit of independency, good health, a 
 contented humour, and an unabating love of study. In 
 these circumstances I must esteem myself one of the 
 happy and fortunate; and so far from being willing to 
 draw my ticket over again in the lottery of life, there are 
 very few prizes with which I would make an exchange ' 
 (Hill Burton, I., 342). 
 
 In conversation, his native Doric was marked, so that 
 'the broadest Scotch accent' is attributed to him. So 
 attached was he to his native land that we find him 
 expressing his determination ' never more to set his foot 
 out of it.' When writing for the press, it continued matter 
 of serious trouble to him that his Scotticisms often were 
 allowed to pass unchecked. In this matter he owns his 
 
DAVID HUME 27 
 
 dependence on Strahan, his publisher. Thus he says, 
 ' If you have leisure to peruse the sheets, and to mark 
 on the margin any corrections that occur to you, it will 
 be an addition to the many obligations of the same kind 
 I owe to you' (Letters to Strahan, p. 213). For the same 
 reason, he seeks to have the help of Mallet (lb., p. 7), and 
 in writing to Wilkes, he says — 'Notwithstanding all the 
 pains I have taken in the study of the English language, I 
 am still jealous of my pen ' (lb., p. 8). 
 
 In some of his familiar letters written to intimate friends, 
 Hume's humour is singularly unrestrained. Dr Birkbeck 
 Hill, in editing the letters to Strahan, for the publication 
 of which the nation is certainly indebted to the generous 
 liberality of Lord Rosebery, quite misunderstands the 
 significance of a letter. Misled in this way. Hill mis- 
 interprets the author so seriously as to charge Hume 
 ' with a levity which is only found in a man who is 
 indifferent to strict truthfulness ' (Preface, p. 8). This 
 surprising judgment is passed, oddly enough, because 
 Hume resents having been deceived. Strahan replied 
 with indignation to Hume's complaint; and Hume 
 was not the man to be surprised, when one remembers 
 his own indignation at Rousseau's charges against him. 
 How Hume afterwards felt because of this temporary 
 estrangement from Strahan, is stated in a manner which 
 indicates anything but levity. (Letter 71, p. 270), 'I do 
 not remember any incident of my life, that has given me 
 more real concern, than your misapprehension.' Nothing 
 could be further from accuracy of representation than to 
 speak of Hume as ' indifferent to truthfulness.' This is 
 only one of several hasty judgments passed by Dr G. B. 
 
28 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 Hill, from misapprehension of the passionate and the 
 humorous in Hume's nature. Dr Hill has fulfilled his 
 part as an editor with a wealth of scholarship which calls 
 forth admiration; but once or twice he has singularly 
 failed to catch the author's meaning. 
 
 The characteristics of the times in which Hume lived 
 should have full weight on our judgments of him, but they 
 need not have more than a brief sketch. The union of 
 Scotland with England was an event of recent occurrence. 
 Considerable jealousy still existed between the two coun- 
 tries, the Scotch thinking themselves neglected or unfairly 
 treated ; the English feeling irritated by any civil appoint- 
 ments given to Scotchmen. There was, however, growing 
 up in Scotland, a desire to acquire an accurate English 
 style in written composition, and also to become familiar 
 with the best English authors. A large measure of literary 
 ability was appearing in Scotland ; a jovial spirit charac- 
 terised even literary gatherings. Hume felt attracted to 
 Edinburgh, where he had free intercourse with the noted 
 literati, besides maintaining correspondence and occasional 
 intercourse with the leading men of Glasgow. The more 
 prominent of his literary friends were Adam Smith, 
 author of The Wealth of Nations ; John Home, author 
 of Douglas; Di William Robertson, author of History 
 of Scotland; Henry Home, 'Lord Kames,' author of 
 Elements of Criticism, in which Hume's scepticism is 
 controverted; and Adam Ferguson, Professor of Moral 
 Philosophy, and author of an Essay on the History of 
 Civil Society. Several of the prominent clergymen of 
 the city, more naturally those of the moderate school, 
 who were less offended by the freedom of his writing 
 
DAVID HUME 29 
 
 on theological and religious questions, were on terms 
 of intimacy with Hume. Most marked amongst these 
 were Rev. Dr Hugh Blair, minister of the High Church, 
 and afterwards Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in 
 the University ; and Rev. Dr Carlyle, of Inveresk, known 
 as the ' Jupiter ' of his set. Beyond the Edinburgh circle, 
 the more conspicuous of his correspondents were Hutche- 
 son. Professor of Moral Philosophy in Glasgow University, 
 and his successor, Dr Thomas Reid, known as the father 
 of the Scotch School of Philosophy. 
 
 Amongst Evangelical men, Hume came to be suspected, 
 and in a degree even feared and unreservedly denounced 
 as an evil influence in the country. His avowed scepti- 
 cism he seemed to delight in expounding with ceaseless 
 iteration. Though it was primarily philosophic in its 
 origin and range, it was resented with intensity of feeling, 
 as tending to foster Moderatism, and to undermine religious 
 earnestness, which had highly distinguished Scotchmen from 
 the Reformation period. In the view of this party, Hume 
 stood out as the ' arch-infidel ' ; in his view, they were 
 the 'zealots,' whose attack he discounted in publishing 
 his Treatise, the absence of which at the outset added 
 to his vexation. 
 
 One of the heaviest disappointments of Hume's life was 
 his failure to carry the appointment to a Chair of Philo- 
 sophy in a Scottish University. His first effort was for 
 the Edinburgh Chair of Moral Philosophy ; his second for 
 the Logic Chair in Glasgow. Both efforts were fruitless, 
 so hopeless, indeed, as to discourage further attempts. In 
 rearing, with unwavering resolution and conspicuous ability, 
 his sceptical philosophy, he had built a wall which barred 
 
30 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 his progress to University distinction. This is the sole 
 explanation of the result. It was no lack of ability on his 
 part, or of attainment, or of teaching power, which led to 
 his rejection. The force of public opinion adverse to 
 scepticism was the barrier. The interests of philosophy 
 itself, and also the interests of religion, are sacrificed when 
 it is proclaimed that scepticism is the outcome of a truly 
 penetrating speculative thought. The conviction of this 
 swayed the University authorities. In both cases he was 
 a candidate for a Chair he knew himself to be fitted 
 for. The electors well knew it, though in less degree, 
 but they could not trust him. This is the penalty for the 
 philosopher when his bias is for sceptical thought, and when 
 besides he delights in it, and in the disturbance which is 
 occasioned by its free and even fierce expression. When, 
 after his death, his Dialogues on Religion was published, it 
 became apparent that in his inmost soul he appreciated 
 the grounds for antagonism to a sceptical philosophy. 
 There he makes Cleanthes, the spokesman who most 
 nearly expresses his own thoughts, say to Philo, his 
 representative sceptic : — ' Your spirit of controversy, 
 joined to your abhorrence of vulgar superstition, carries 
 you strange lengths, when engaged in an argument ; 
 and there is nothing so sacred and venerable, even in 
 your own eyes, which you spare on that occasion.' To 
 this adverse criticism Philo replies : — ' I must confess 
 that I am less cautious on the subject of Natural 
 Religion than on any other; both because I know that 
 I can never, on that head, corrupt the principles of 
 common sense, and because no one, I am confident, 
 in whose eyes I appear a man of common sense, 
 
DAVID HUME 31 
 
 will ever mistake my intentions. You in particular, 
 Cleanthes, with whom I live in unreserved intimacy, 
 you are sensible, that, notwithstanding the freedom of 
 my conversation, and my love of singular arguments, no 
 one has a deeper sense of religion impressed on his mind, 
 or pays more profound adoration to the Divine Being, 
 as he discovers himself to reason, in the inexplicable 
 contrivance and artifice of Nature.'* 
 
 The judgment of the Curators of Patronage adverse to 
 Hume has been well interpreted by his biographer, Hill 
 Burton, 'The revolutionist, who is endeavouring to pull 
 to pieces what has been taught for ages within the same 
 walls, and to erect a new system in its stead, can scarcely 
 ever be a satisfactory instructor of any considerable num- 
 ber of young men.' f The characteristics which he had 
 clearly recognised in himself were adverse to his election 
 as an Academic teacher. ' A certain boldness of temper ' 
 which made him adverse ' to any authority in philosophy '; 
 a tendency to make light of reason, as if it were in- 
 sufficient to lead us through the mazes of perplexity ; and 
 an undisguised delight in sceptical conclusions, resolving, 
 ' if we must for ever be a prey to errors and delusions, 
 that they shall, at least, be natural and entertaining' 
 (Treatise, vol i., p. 3). He did himself injustice by those 
 seemingly unguarded utterances, meant only to lighten 
 abstruse discussion. The man was greatly better than 
 he seemed, when tested by passages of this cast; but 
 he was avowedly swayed by a sceptical bias, and this 
 the electors regarded as a disqualification for office. 
 
 * Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, published 1879, p. 130. 
 t Life of David Hume, I., p. 352. 
 
32 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 Hume was first and chiefly a speculative thinker ; in- 
 tensely interested in the diflficulties besetting all research, 
 he consecrated the best efforts of his life to penetrate into 
 the conditions of certainty in knowledge. He prosecuted 
 his task without misgiving, and was willing to bear all the 
 consequences, however trying to reputation and ambition. 
 Amongst these the loss of an Academic chair was by far 
 the bitterest experience. He had shown in many ways 
 his conviction that philosophic research can be success- 
 fully conducted only in silent retreat, with attention con- 
 centrated undisturbed on all complexities of thought. 
 He even refused to discuss philosophic themes in general 
 company, and hardly relaxed this rule in the select 
 gatherings of thinkers fully competent for the discussion 
 required. As a thinker, he really lived apart, feeling 
 that his speculations could be known only through the 
 printed page, read deliberately and silently as it had been 
 written. When, however, he closed his studies for the 
 time, he abandoned all concern with them; he returned 
 into society with the alacrity of one who seeks relaxation, 
 and with the overflowing humour of one ready for amuse- 
 ment under any conditions. In the same spirit his 
 familiar correspondence was conducted, allowing himself 
 often freedom for the utmost playfulness — not infre- 
 quently for unrestrained exaggeration, liable to misunder- 
 standing by those who were not familiar with the licence 
 he allowed himself in the familiarity of friendship. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 HUME AS A PHILOSOPHER — HIS PHILOSOPHY OF 
 UNDERSTANDING 
 
 {Knowledge, — its conditions and limits) 
 
 The interest with which Hume entered on philosophical 
 studies appears from his correspondence. ' I began to con- 
 sider seriously how I should proceed in my philosophical 
 enquiries. I found that the moral philosophy, transmitted 
 to us by antiquity, laboured under the same inconvenience 
 that has been found in their natural philosophy, of being 
 entirely hypothetical, and depending more upon invention 
 than experience, . . . without regarding human nature. 
 This, therefore, I resolved to make my principal study, 
 and the source from which I would derive every truth 
 in criticism, as well as in morality.' * 
 
 At the age of twenty-five, in the retreat he had selected 
 in France, he began philosophical research with the en- 
 thusiasm of one who had found his life-work. The title 
 chosen for his work was ' A Treatise of Human Nature : 
 being an attempt to introduce the experimental method of 
 reasoning into moral subjects.' It thus appears that ' the 
 experimental method ' was that which allured him to in- 
 dependent study, and which held out the prospect of 
 fresh ' discovery,' even as in physical research. His field 
 
 * Burton's Life of Hume, I., p. 35. 
 
 C 33 
 
34 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 of study was 'human nature'; his basis, 'experience'; 
 his method an observational enquiry into the intel- 
 lectual conditions on which a knowledge of things is 
 acquired by us. His main enquiry, therefore, was con- 
 cerned with the origin of our thoughts and fancies and 
 feeUngs as to things around us. 
 
 The chief interest to us in Hume's philosophy centres 
 in its distinctive feature, his brave and exclusive reliance 
 on Experience. Its strength and its weakness are to be 
 traced to its root. My purpose is to sketch his system as 
 clearly and carefully as I may find possible within the 
 limits. If I succeed in presenting Hume as he really was 
 in the field of philosophy, my leading purpose will be 
 gained. I shall then be willing to leave to the reader the 
 more extended criticism which seems desirable. 
 
 His basis was Experience ; this always, this only. What 
 he sought was an interpretation of human nature by refer- 
 ence to our experience, aided by a keen sceptical outlook 
 against assumptions, inventions, and hypotheses. These 
 were the evils which had at all stages involved philosophy 
 in confusion, exposing its systems to ridicule. David 
 Hume's accepted task was to rid philosophy of these 
 evils, placing before thinking men a simple and complete 
 exposition of human experience, guarded at every point 
 by an unhesitating and bold scepticism as to everything 
 that proposes to go a step beyond Experience. This 
 is the true significance of ' Hume's scepticism.' If the 
 reader keep this description well in view from the first, he 
 will have a fair chance of understanding Hume better than 
 he has commonly been understood in his native land. 
 
 A safe and sure basis for philosophy we certainly have 
 
DAVID HUME 35 
 
 in Experience. All knowledge must begin in Experience, 
 and all knowledge must be within Experience. Even thus, 
 however, our difficulties are only beginning. We may 
 speak of the simplicity of Experience, but the conditions 
 of our knowledge are not simple, nor are they easily inter- 
 preted. Hume sees this from the outset, saying in the 
 introduction to his Treatise, ' If truth be at all within the 
 reach of human capacity, it is certain it must be very deep 
 and abstruse ; and to hope we shall arrive at it without 
 pains, while the greatest geniuses have failed with the 
 utmost pains, must certainly be esteemed sufficiently vain 
 and presumptuous.' It is in fact easy to say, ' we shall 
 keep to experience ' ; but to set forth all that is involved 
 within ' common experience ' is no easy task. Owning 
 this, Hume shut himself off from his ordinary surround- 
 ings, and, retreating to France, devoted himself to three 
 years of the closest observation and reflection. It was 
 no light thing he resolved upon, and he was ready for any 
 sacrifice, animated by the expectation that there lay within 
 his reach discoveries which would have permanent value. 
 Expectations are not always fulfilled, but brave resolves 
 are ever to be honoured, and they have ever reward in 
 their execution, — though readers may doubt whether 
 ' experience ' sustains this view of life's efforts. 
 
 Everyone can see from what directions difficulties must 
 come, when he considers the wide sphere of existence in 
 which we have our place, and the conditions under which 
 we interpret the facts of experience. Hume does not 
 mean that the universe lies within an individual's experi- 
 ence ; he only asks how far the universe can be under- 
 stood by reference to our experience. Hume does not 
 
36 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 mean that our senses, being essentially like those of the 
 animals, are the measure of reality ; he asks what inter- 
 pretation we put on our impressions by use of our 
 understanding. Accordingly, the entire first volume oi 
 his Treatise, extending to 475 pages, is 'of the under- 
 standing'; and all through it there run references to 
 ' unknown causes,' and to ' particular causes of particular 
 events,' while he holds that the actual relation between 
 cause and effect never comes within our experience. 
 These few references are enough to shew through what 
 an African thicket the path of exploration must be cut. 
 
 He begins with ' the perceptions of the human mind ' ; 
 the outlook a man has on his surroundings ; what is the 
 origin of his ' perceptions ' ? how does he perceive things ? 
 how is he affected by things ? The physiology of nerve 
 and brain was unknown when Hume set to work. This 
 field of research was therefore closed to him, though he 
 did much to turn attention in its direction. Witness 
 Reid's Inquiry into the Human Mind, on the Principles 
 of Common Sense (1763), with his discussion of the 
 organs of sense, and of the impressions made on them, 
 largely suggested by Hume's Treatise. 
 
 Hume speaks of perceptions ' entering ' the mind, dwell- 
 ing on the manner in which ' they strike upon the mind ' 
 and ' make their way into our thought and consciousness.' 
 These phrases seem almost to suggest that perceptions are 
 made outside, and force their way into an inner conscious- 
 ness where they are stored. Nothing so crude as this is 
 intended. He is only encountering the disadvantages of 
 popular usage. His defence is given later, when he writes, 
 ' It is very difficult to talk of the operations of the mind 
 
DAVID HUME 37 
 
 with perfect propriety and exactness, because common 
 language has seldom made any very nice distinctions 
 between them' (p. 187). 
 
 The historic position was such as to involve philo- 
 sophical research in needless perplexity. Locke's great 
 essay On the Human Understanding held the field, hav- 
 ing run through five editions before Hume entered on his 
 philosophical enquiries. Locke, having first expended his 
 force on a polemic against ' innate ideas,' had insisted that 
 ' all the materials of reason and knowledge ' come ' from 
 Experience,' that observation is 'employed either about 
 external sensible objects or about the internal operations 
 of our minds,' that the mind may be regarded as ' white 
 paper void of all characters,' that ideas are the figures 
 ' which the busy and boundless fancy of man has painted 
 on it,' and that ' all ideas come from Sensation and Reflec- 
 tion.' Our Senses ' convey into the mind several distinct 
 perceptions of things,' and Reflection, which is ' the notice 
 the mind takes of its own operations,' 'furnishes the 
 understanding with another set of ideas, which could not 
 be had from things without.' Hume takes Locke's stand- 
 point, acknowledges our dependence on Experience only, 
 and entering with the freshness of youthful enthusiasm into 
 the enquiry as to the origin of our ideas on the conditions 
 implied, he works out his scheme of association under the 
 sway of custom, develops his doctrine of ignorance of 
 matter, of mind, and of causality, presenting a philosophic 
 scepticism as the outcome. In this his grand service is 
 an exposure of the inherent weakness of an empirical 
 philosophy. Locke's Essay was an epoch-making book ; 
 Hume's Treatise prepared the way for a new and grander 
 
38 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 epoch in the history of the science of man. With such 
 tracings the reader may follow readily the unfolding of 
 Hume's ' system,' of which he speaks so confidingly and 
 confidently as the discussion proceeds. 
 
 What does Experience mean — your experience and 
 mine? How does there originate out of this simple 
 source all the variety of relations belonging to it ? How 
 can we by interpretation of it reach a science of human 
 nature? These are Hume's grand questions. In 
 seeking an answer, he hopes to achieve large discoveries 
 in philosophy. His search is first for the simple elements 
 of our experience, — next for the origin of the strange 
 complexity which it involves, — and ultimately for the 
 philosophy of existence possible to us within its limits. 
 ' The subjects of the understanding and passions make a 
 complete chain of reasoning by themselves ' ; and beyond 
 these lies ' the examination of morals, politics, and criti- 
 cism.' These, taken together, give his general survey of 
 the field of research. 
 
 The primary element of Experience is Impression. 
 ^ This ' arises in the soul originally, from unknown causes ' 
 (22).* 'An impression first strikes upon the senses and 
 makes us perceive heat or cold, thirst or hunger, pleasure 
 or pain of some kind or other '(22). Under this name are 
 included ' all our sensations, passions, and emotions, as 
 they make their first appearance in the soul' (12). He 
 thus distinguishes between an outer and an inner source 
 of impression. All that can be said as to their rise is that 
 ' they strike upon the mind, and make their way into our 
 thought or consciousness' (12). Impressions 'are all so 
 
 * The bracketed figures refer to the pages of the 1st Ed. (in 3 vols.) 
 
DAVID HUME 39 
 
 clear and evident, that they admit of no controversy ' (65). 
 Here is no room for doubt. Our consciousness of 
 impression leaves no place for question or appeal. ' The 
 extent and force of the human understanding ' (4) still lies 
 beyond this, involving wider questions. When Experience 
 is taken in its utmost simplicity, all that can be said is 
 that we are conscious of some feeling ; and ' every one of 
 himself will readily perceive the difference between feeling 
 and thinking' (12). Even at this early stage we are 
 dealing with a set of words of which we have no inter- 
 pretation, such as ' consciousness,' ' understanding,' 
 'thought,' 'mind,' 'soul'; but it does not seem possible 
 to make our statements without being allowed their 
 provisional use. Whether these also admit of no con- 
 troversy is not as yet determined. We have only before 
 us the primary form of ' the perceptions of the human 
 mind,' — impressions coming through the senses or from 
 within our nature itself. But in naming them so, he 
 • would not be understood to express the manner in which 
 our lively perceptions are produced in the soul, but merely 
 the perceptions themselves.' These impressions are 
 fleeting. They ' make their way into consciousness ' 
 and then vanish, to be followed by others. Are they 
 then utterly lost as particular feelings, having had only a 
 momentary existence ? Assuredly not. The experience 
 of which they are the primary phase, includes more than 
 this, as a consequence, we may say. ' In thinking and 
 reasoning,' ideas arise in the mind. These are ' the faint 
 images of our sensations, passions, and emotions, as they 
 .make their first appearance in the soul.' In this use of 
 the term ' Idea,' there is a departure from Locke's usage, 
 
40 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 who took ' Idea ' as the term to include all the pheno- 
 mena in consciousness. In thus departing from Locke's 
 usage, he says — ' Perhaps I rather restore the word, idea, 
 to its original sense, from which Mr Locke had perverted 
 it, in making it stand for all our impressions ' (13, note).) 
 What then are these ' Ideas,' and what the conditions of 
 their origin ? How are ' the faint images ' of our impres- 
 sions produced ? They are not fading impressions ; they 
 take the place of vanished impressions, which had greater 
 ' force and liveliness ' while they lasted. ' Of the impres- 
 sion there is a copy taken by the mind, which remains 
 after the impression ceases ; and this we call an idea ' 
 (22). Impressions 'are copied by the memory and 
 imagination, and become ideas' (22). This involves 
 divergence from the ' white paper ' theory as if nature 
 made an impression on a sensitive surface. The theory 
 suggests an activity of mind in producing a copy ; and it 
 is added that the ideal has less 'force and liveliness,' 
 is ' faint and low,' and ' when it entirely loses that 
 vivacity ' which characterises impressions, it ' is a perfect 
 idea' (24). Hume does not deal with the question how 
 ^ the mind makes the copy. He takes it merely as a fact 
 within our experience. Subsequent references throughout 
 his first volume are consistent with those now quoted, 
 but do not add any thing by way of explanation. Under 
 the action of Memory and Imagination, 'an impression 
 again makes its appearance as an idea' (23). Memory 
 'preserves the original form in which its objects were 
 presented' (25). Ideas are spoken of as 'adequate 
 representations of objects ' (58). Somewhat more de- 
 finite is the reference to the ' judgments of our senses » 
 
DAVID HUME 41 
 
 (89), which, it is admitted, ' undergo correction.' On the 
 other hand, Hume speaks of ' two bodies presenting them- 
 selves,' and yet he is careful to repeat — ' My philosophy 
 pretends only to explain the nature and causes of our 
 perceptions, or impressions and ideas' (118). While 
 perceptions are said to ' make their way into our thought 
 or consciousness,' he represents this as ' a mere passive 
 admission of the impressions through the organs of sensa- 
 tion' (133). 
 
 The next advance is the noting of similarity between 
 Impressions and Ideas. ' The first circumstance that 
 strikes my eye is the great resemblance betwixt our 
 impressions and ideas in every other particular, except 
 their degree of force and vivacity. The one seem to be 
 in a manner the reflection of the other, so that all the 
 perceptions of the mind are double, and appear both as 
 impressions and ideas ' (13). ' This circumstance seems 
 to me remarkable ' (14). He dwells upon it with special 
 interest, regarding it as in some sense a ' discovery,' and 
 of the first importance. ' The Ideas I form are exact 
 representations of the impressions I felt ' \ ' these two 
 species of perception are exactly correspondent ' (16) ; 
 and there is a ' constant conjunction of resembling 
 impressions.' If there is ' a copy taken by the mind,' it 
 seems a natural result that there should be a resemblance. 
 But Hume is arrested by the ' constant conjunction ' of the 
 two things as if it were settled by the nature of the mind 
 that the copy must follow the impression, so that the per- 
 ceptions of the mind by a provision of nature are in- 
 variably doubk. And we ' find by constant experience, 
 that the simple impressions always take the precedence of 
 
42 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 their correspondent ideas ' (17). At a later stage we find 
 him repeat his view of the importance of all this. ' No 
 discovery could have been made more happily for deciding 
 all controversies concerning ideas than that above men- 
 tioned, that impressions always take the precedency of 
 them, and that every idea with which the imagination is 
 furnished, first makes its appearance in a correspondent 
 impression' (65). The lack of explanation of how the 
 copy is taken proves a serious disadvantage now, even 
 when we grant the doubleness, and the uniformity of 
 sequence, and add that ' all our simple ideas in their first 
 appearance are derived from simple impressions' (i6). 
 
 But Hume recognises that it becomes needful to dis- 
 tinguish between simple and complex in our perceptions. 
 ' Upon a more accurate survey I find I have been carried 
 away too far by the first appearance, and that I must make 
 use of the distinction of perceptions into simple and com- 
 plex, to limit this general decision, that all our ideas and 
 impressions are resembling' (14). This leads to a modi- 
 fication of view, shewing how much must depend on the 
 explanation to be given of how the ' copy ' is made. ' I 
 observe that many of our complex ideas never had impres- 
 sions that correspond to them ; and that many of our 
 complex impressions never are exactly copied in ideas ' 
 (15). For example, the idea we have of the ' New 
 Jerusalem ' or of ' Paris.' He then feels constrained to 
 admit that ' the rule is not universally true, that they 
 are exact copies of each other ' (15). This suggests that 
 nature does not provide for ' double perceptions ' though 
 the phenomena are dual ; and that the later phrase, ' judg- 
 ments of the senses ' is truer to experience than the state- 
 
DAVID HUME 43 
 
 ment that ' there is a copy of the impression taken by 
 the mind.' Both statements, however, imply an activity 
 of mind somewhat obscured by the references to ' re- 
 semblance ' and ' correspondence.' Our author, neverthe- 
 less, continues attracted by the ' discovery' of resemblance ; 
 and he ' ventures to affirm that the rule holds without excep- 
 tion ' in the case of ' simple perceptions.' ' Every simple 
 impression has a correspondent idea ' (15). But even here 
 the suggestion of ' representation,' ' image,' ' copy,' is not 
 easily supported by reference to ' experience.' ' The idea of 
 red ' is taken as an example, but we find it more difficult to 
 form ' an idea of red,' than an idea of ' a red apple,' and 
 even on this point ideas will differ according as we are 
 more familiar with the Scotch apple or with the American. 
 Hume's modification of his view by reference to complex 
 perceptions, seems to apply even to simple perceptions, so 
 far, at least, as to awaken doubt as to his first position that 
 ' the difference between impressions and ideas consists in 
 the degrees of force and liveliness with which they strike 
 upon the mind' (n). 
 
 The complexity of Experience opens out still further. 
 Even impressions must be distinguished as ' those of 
 Sensation and those of Reflexion ' (22). ' The first kind 
 arises in the soul originally from unknown causes. The 
 second is derived in a great measure from our ideas, and 
 that in the following order. An impression first strikes 
 upon the senses, and makes us perceive . . . pleasure or 
 pain of some kind or other. Of this impression there is a 
 copy taken by the mind, which remains after the impres- 
 sion ceases. This idea of pleasure or pain, when it 
 returns upon the soul, produces the new impressions of 
 
44 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 desire and aversion, hope and fear, which may properly be 
 called impressions of reflexion, because derived from it. 
 These again are copied by the memory and imagination, 
 and become ideas ; which perhaps in their turn give rise 
 to other impressions and ideas. So that the impressions 
 of reflexion are antecedent to their correspondent ideas, 
 but posterior to the ideas of sensation and derived from 
 them.' This passage is not too long for its purpose, for 
 the complexity described belongs to the common experi- 
 ence, quite apart from philosophy. This double relation 
 of thought to feeling is such that at one time thought 
 depends on feeling; at another, feeling depends on 
 thought. The first feeling comes to us, we know not how ; 
 the second is awakened by our thought. This complexity 
 seems to present to view the whole range of enquiry. 
 Hume is so impressed by it that it leads him even to 
 change the order of investigation so far as to pass ' impres- 
 sions ' in order to treat of ' ideas.' The inducement is 
 curiously explained. ' As the impressions of reflection, viz., 
 passions, desires and emotions, which principally deserve 
 our attention arise mostly from ideas, it will be necessary to 
 reverse that method which, at first sight, seems most 
 natural ; and in order to explain the nature and principles 
 of the human mind, give a particular account of ideas 
 before we proceed to impressions. For this reason I have 
 here chosen to begin with ideas ' (23). This is a tempta- 
 tion springing from his ultimate object — ' an attempt to 
 introduce the experimental method of reasoning into 
 moral subjects.' But the philosopher who declares that 
 ' the only solid foundation we can give to the science of 
 man must be laid on experience and observation ' (6), 
 
DAVID HUME 45 
 
 becomes bound to keep by the natural order of experience, 
 in order to read accurately its testimony. If nature has 
 so ordered our experience that all perceptions are doubly, 
 and those of sense ' always take the precedence of their 
 correspondent ideas,' this deviation from the natural order 
 is a mistake, and is likely to throw the ' system ' into con- 
 fusion. The significance of the complexity is, however, 
 to be seriously considered. It involves a dualism in the 
 history of impressions. There are ' impressions of sensa- 
 tion ' coming from without, which ' strike upon the 
 senses ' ; and there are impressions from within, ' desires 
 and emotions,' depending on reflection. ' The examination 
 of our sensations belongs more to anatomists and natural 
 philosophers than to moral '(23); but, when 'they make 
 their way into consciousness,' it is quite otherwise, for it 
 remains true that ' all impressions are internal and perish- 
 ing existences ' (339), having their place within us in 
 accordance with conditions of consciousness. After 
 having remarked the ' constant conjunction ' of impres- 
 sions and ideas, and having found in this an order of 
 dependence, inasmuch as we ' find by constant experience 
 that the simple impressions always take the precedence of 
 their correspondent ideas, but never appear in the contrary 
 order' (17), it seems a singular deviation from the natural 
 order to ' give a particular account of ideas before we pro- 
 ceed to impressions ' (23). In consequence the treatment 
 ' of the impressions of the senses and memory ' is delayed 
 till Part III., section 5, p. 151. This determination 'to 
 begin with ideas' affects seriously the structure of the 
 Treatise. 
 The effect on the development of the theory is to pre- 
 
46 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 sent Empiricism in a more trying light. The field of life's 
 activity is illuminated by impressions, external and internal ; 
 all ideas are dependent on them ; ' innate ideas ' are, 
 therefore, excluded (21). Impressions are unaccounted 
 for ; they are, however, classified, according to their source, 
 as external or internal ; how they arise is unknown to us 
 (a physiology of the senses and of organic sensibilities not 
 being at command). The main difficulties are now full in 
 view, — how have impressions their ' correspondent ideas ' ; 
 how do these ideas subsist as a system ; how are those 
 relations essential to the scheme of knowledge originated 
 and maintained ; and how does this scheme stand related 
 to the system of things we name the universe? With 
 nothing more than impressions and their copies to work 
 with, a faint outUne of the sceptical result is already shining 
 through this description of our experience. Its incom-^ 
 pleteness involves its insecurity, and this means doubt. 
 In this study of ' the extent and force of the human 
 understanding,' the theory that mind is as ' white paper, 
 void of all characters ' is being discredited ; and the theory 
 that it is as ' a copying-press ' does not show to advantage.* 
 We need to ascertain by direct observation ' the force of 
 the human understanding.' 
 
 The first question is. How have impressions their ' corre- 
 spondent ideas ' ? To ' give a particular account of ideas, 
 before we proceed to impressions,' is ' to reverse ' the 
 natural order. It is to act as the builder who proceeds 
 with the structure before he has made sure of the founda- 
 tion. To delay the primary question from Part I., section 
 
 * It is of special consequence to the student of Hume to mark this 
 change of order. 
 
DAVID HUME 47 
 
 2, until Part III., section 5, was a serious thing. Let the 
 reader transfer sections 5 and 6 of Part III. to their 
 natural place in Part I., after section 2, and it will appear 
 how brief and insufficient is the treatment, how naturally 
 the author admits that he is employing ' materials which 
 are of a mixed and heterogeneous nature ' (151), and con- 
 sequently how much of the brief discussion falls out of 
 account when it is placed in its natural position. 
 
 In proceeding to ' give a particular account of ideas,' 
 the discussion enters into the heart of all the complications 
 connected with their relations. We become concerned 
 with the conditions of reflections ; memory and imagina- 
 tion are called into requisition ; association of ideas are 
 noted ; and forthwith we are drifting out on the wide 
 ocean where single impressions are as difficult to descry as 
 the mountain rills flowing to the sea. Here each voyager 
 has his separate experience. Men originate their own 
 systems of thought. There are associations of impressions 
 and of their ' correspondent ideas ' according to similarity 
 and dissimilarity; and of things according to their con- 
 tiguity in place and in time ; and of occurrences according 
 to the relation of cause and effect. We speak of substance 
 and qualities, and modes of existence ; and according to 
 the natural activity of reflection we institute a search into 
 space and time, and all problems of existence presented 
 by the great universe. 
 
 Hume is eager to grapple with all the complications 
 here involved, and to him is due the honour belonging to 
 independent research into the origin of the tendencies 
 and habitual courses of reflection characteristic of our 
 mental procedure. His first concern is to be true to his 
 
48 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 fundamental position, 'that all our simple ideas in their 
 first appearance are derived from simple impressions 
 which are correspondent to them, and which they exactly 
 represent.' His next is to trace, with the most painstaking 
 care, the manner in which men come to think as they do 
 of the relations of things external, and of their own doings 
 and destiny. Only a brief outline of his method can be 
 given here. 
 
 Impressions and ideas are passing incidents, quickly 
 vanishing from our consciousness. How then are relations 
 established afifording coherence to our experience, and 
 giving to it an enlarged significance ? ' When any im- 
 pression has been present with the mind, it again makes 
 its appearance there as an idea' (23). The impressions 
 ' have gone before to prepare the way ' for the ideas, and 
 ' the faculty by which we repeat our impressions ' is either 
 memory or imagination. We note ' that quality by which 
 two ideas are connected together in the imagination,' so 
 that the one ' naturally introduces the other ' to conscious- 
 ness ; and also ' the arbitrary union of two ideas in the 
 fancy,' in accordance with some particular circumstance 
 by which 'we may think proper to compare them' (32). 
 Here three ' faculties ' are at work, Memory, Imagination, 
 Comparison. Their nature is not specially considered, 
 but rather the ' association of ideas.' ' This uniting 
 principle among ideas 'is ' as a gentle force which 
 commonly prevails,' as appears in the common features 
 of language, ' nature in a manner pointing out to every- 
 one those simple ideas which are most proper to be 
 united into a complex one.' Such references to the 
 action of • nature ' are frequent The qualities by which 
 
DAVID HUME 49 
 
 ' the mind is after this manner conveyed from one idea to 
 another ' are Resemblance, Contiguity in time or place, and 
 Cause and Effect. We enter on the exercise of com- 
 parison, discrimination, classification, and inference. We 
 are within the recognised province of Intellect and WUl. 
 Hume does not, however, deal with the exercise of these 
 in a prominent way. He does, indeed, occasionally 
 allude to the fact that ' we accompany our ideas with a 
 kind of reflection' (52), and, referring to power and 
 activity, he remarks that ' when a person is possessed of 
 any power, there is no more required to convert it into 
 action, but the exercise of the Will ' (30). These are, 
 however, only occasional references. He is much more 
 occupied with ' association of ideas ' as ' the gentle force 
 which commonly prevails,' under conditions not generally 
 noted by us. His service to philosophy is most manifest 
 in this direction, while things, as well as ideas, come 
 largely into view. 
 
 Cause and Effect may be selected as the most important 
 of the relations named, the treatment of which is most 
 characteristic of our author. Resemblance is readily 
 restricted to ideas, but subsequent references apply to the 
 outer world. 'As the senses, in changing their objects, 
 . . . take them as they lie contiguous to each other, the 
 imagination must by long custom acquire the same method 
 of thinking' (28). But 'there is no relation which pro- 
 duces a stronger connection in the fancy, and makes one 
 idea more readily recall another than the relation of cause 
 and effect betwixt their objects ' (28). Cause concerns 
 change and motion, as well as origin of existence, and 
 so bears on our observations first, and on philosophic 
 
 D 
 
so FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 thought afterwards. A cause is that which under existing 
 conditions produces change in the order of things. We 
 deal no longer with sensory impressions, but with things 
 as related to each other. Hume's statements recognise 
 this. CausaUty is ' the power by which one object 
 produces another' (126). 'Cause and effect are rela- 
 tions of which we receive information from experience ' 
 (126). Experience places us in relation with the external, 
 so that we are constantly influenced by the conditions 
 around us, and that to a degree much greater than 
 particular impressions entail. Hence the need for re- 
 ferring not only to impressions and ideas, but also to 
 objects, to physical laws, and to the action of nature. 
 Allusions to those abound in Hume's Treatise, but 
 without deliberate treatment of the problem as to the 
 relation of impressions to objects. There is, however, 
 necessary reference to adequate and inadequate 'ideas,' 
 and it is assumed that ' wherever ideas are adequate 
 representations of objects, the relations, contradictions, 
 and agreements of the ideas are all applicable to the 
 objects' (58). 
 
 The following are examples of Hume's more general 
 statements as to Causation. Causality is ' the power by 
 which one object produces another' (126). ' It is only 
 causation which produces such a connexion as to give us 
 assurance, from the existence or action of one object, that 
 it was followed or preceded by any other existence or 
 action' (133). 'To begin regularly we must consider 
 the idea of causation, and see from what origin it is 
 derived, . . . examining that primary impression from 
 which it arises ' (134). It is granted that ' the idea of 
 
DAVID HUME 51 
 
 Cause ' is within consciousness, the problem concerns its 
 entrance. 
 
 Our author's first effort is to fence round the area of 
 research. This is done by a series of negatives which will 
 be admitted, (i) 'The power by which one object 
 produces another is never discoverable merely from their 
 idea '(126); nor (2) ' from abstract reasoning or reflection ' 
 (126). (3) 'There is no single phenomenon, even the 
 most simple, which can be accounted for from the 
 qualities of the objects as they appear to us ' ; or (4) ' which 
 we could foresee without the help of our memory and 
 experience' (126). This, then, is Hume's grand diffi- 
 culty. If ' nothing is ever really present with the mind 
 but its perceptions, or impressions and ideas' (123), and 
 if ' the qualities of the objects as they appear to us ' do 
 not include ' the power by which one object produces 
 another,' whence comes the conception of Cause ? 
 
 For an answer we must turn to the objects and their 
 relations. ' Let us, therefore, cast our eye on any two 
 objects, which we call cause and effect, and turn them on 
 all sides, in order to find that impression which produces 
 an idea of such prodigious consequence' (135). Coming 
 soon to admit that ' there is a necessary connexion,' he says, 
 'Here again I turn the object on all sides ' (139). The 
 phrase is a favourite one, indicating his reliance on care- 
 fully derived observation rather than on casual impressions, 
 such as come to the non-reflective mind, and declaring 
 how difficult is the pass over these mountains. How can 
 we rise from the fleeting impressions, and from their 
 ' double,' to recognise the fixed or the ' necessary ' in 
 nature and in thought ? That this elevation is reached, 
 
52 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 even by ordinary minds independently, is a familiar fact ; 
 yet is the exercise one of very striking character, for ' the 
 mind in its reasoning from causes or effects carries its 
 views beyond these objects which it sees or remembers ' 
 (148). Without parting company with its ' impressions and 
 ideas,' it transcends them all, and also those efforts of 
 memory by which those are recalled. The ' necessary ' 
 in thought, and also in nature itself, is as superior to 
 ' common experience ' as the mountain height is above 
 the stream in the valley. Even ' to turn the objects on 
 all sides ' will help us no more than our lifting of stones 
 from the bed of the stream and turning them in our hands 
 before throwing them back will help us in climbing to the 
 heights above. When we speak of ' invariable sequence,' 
 and ' uniformity of nature,' and of ' necessary connection,' 
 ■ we always conclude there is some secret cause ' (133), as 
 to which experience carries no witness. Experience 
 leaves all in uncertainty — the issue is doubt — a sceptical 
 philosophy, thinking and speaking of that which is beyond 
 our reach, yet sorely puzzled by a persistent reference to 
 the necessity of a cause, which all afifirm, and yet which 
 experience does not warrant. The Philosophy exploring 
 the valley finds no approach to the pass by which to 
 cross into the region beyond. ' Some secret cause ' is 
 still our phrase. 
 
 At this point curiosity is greatly quickened as Hume's 
 steps are watched. ' The idea of causation must be 
 derived from some relation among objects ' (136). ' What, 
 then, are the features of this relation, which is of greater 
 importance than any other ? ' Objects considered as 
 causes or effects are (i) contiguous ; (2) cause is prior to 
 
DAVID HUME 53 
 
 the effect ; (3) ' there is a necessary connection to be 
 taken into consideration ; ' and this third feature is ' of 
 greater importance ' than the other two relations, for con- 
 tiguity of place and priority in time are not peculiar to 
 the relation under consideration. When we speak of the 
 necessity of a cause, and when the recognition of this 
 necessity stimulates our enquiry and regulates our reason- 
 ing, there seems an ultimate principle which impressions 
 and their ideas do not originate. 
 
 Pressed by this difficulty, Hume devotes a section of 
 the Treatise to the question, ' Why a cause is always 
 necessary' (I. iii. 3, p. 141). 'It is a general maxim in 
 philosophy that whatever begins to exist must have a 
 cause of existence. This is commonly taken for granted 
 in all reasonings without any proof given or demanded. 
 It is supposed to be founded on intuition, and to be one 
 of those maxims which, though they may be denied with 
 the lips, it is impossible for men in their hearts really to 
 doubt of ' (142). This is very different from fastening 
 the eyes on 'particular effects,' and thereafter searching 
 for their ' particular causes.' When we say that ' a cause 
 is always necessary,' we maintain a general truth which 
 cannot be established by any number of particulars, or 
 even by a whole lifetime of experience. The recognition 
 of the maxim, and the search for a particular cause 
 adequate to account for a particular effect, are exercises 
 of mind quite distinct, the one implying certainty, the 
 other ignorance, which can be dispelled only by observa- 
 tion. Hume's enquiry is concerned with the former of 
 these questions, the warrant for the general maxim ' that 
 whatever begins to exist must have a cause,' and the 
 
54 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 claim that this maxim is held by men ' without any proof 
 given or demanded.' His method is to ' examine this 
 maxim by the idea of knowledge above explained,' that 
 ' nothing is ever really present with the mind but its 
 perceptions, or impressions and ideas.' But this maxim 
 cannot be included among impressions; we seem in 
 danger of making a theory the test of fact, rather than 
 fact the test of theory. ' All certainty arises from the 
 comparison of ideas, and from the discovery of such rela- 
 tions as are unalterable, so long as the ideas continue the 
 same' (142). These relations are, resemblance, propor- 
 tions, degrees of quality, and contrariety. None of these 
 ' are implied in this proposition. Whatever has a beginning 
 has also a cause of existence.' What then ? Cause is 
 not an impression, and cannot be its double. The rela- 
 tion of cause and effect is distinct from all the relations 
 enumerated. We cannot, indeed, demonstrate ' the 
 impossibility there is that anything can ever begin to 
 exist without some productive principle.' 'The general 
 maxim in philosophy ' is, however, held ' without any 
 proof given or demanded.' The attempted demonstra- 
 tions of Hobbes, Clarke, and Locke are unavailing. 
 Hence it seems open to Hume to retreat upon his 
 favourite position. ' Since it is not from knowledge or 
 any scientific reasoning that we derive the opinion of the 
 necessity of a cause to every new production, that opinion 
 ^must necessarily arise from observation and experience ' 
 (147). How, then, is the popular opinion, the 'maxim in 
 philosophy,' the proposition ' whatever has a beginning 
 has also a cause of existence ' to be vindicated ? His 
 course is a retreat from the principle to particular oc- 
 
DAVID HUME 55 
 
 cuirences, as these stand related to particular causes. 
 'The next question should naturally be, how experience 
 gives rise to such a principle ? But as I find it will be 
 more convenient to sink this question in the following, 
 Why we conclude that such particular causes must 
 necessarily have such particular effects, and why we 
 form an inference from one to another ? we shall make 
 that the subject of our future enquiry. It will, perhaps, 
 be found in the end that the same answer will serve for 
 both questions ' (p. 148). 
 
 This expectation, sounding oddly from one who pro- 
 fesses only a knowledge of particulars in experience, 
 appears at the close of section 3 of the third Part of the 
 Treatise, and not till section 1 4 do we reach ' the idea of 
 necessary connexion' (p. 272). These 120 pages are 
 occupied with discussions as to the characteristics of our 
 reasonings, dependence on memory, probability, associa- 
 tion of ideas, opinion or belief joined to conceptions of 
 things, custom, operating in an oblique and artificial 
 manner, influence of contiguity and resemblance as 
 assisting the conception of cause and effect, formation 
 of general rules, credulity, effects of education, influence 
 of belief, perception of pain and pleasure, the idea of 
 good and evil as actuating the will, effects on the imagina- 
 tion, mixture of truth and falsehood, likelihood and 
 probability, the slow steps by which our judgment arrives 
 at a full assurance, strong tendency to continue in an 
 accepted course, direct and subsidiary or oblique influence 
 of habit, transference of the past to the future; 'all 
 reasonings are nothing but the effects of custom.' 
 
 From this extended discussion it will be enough to 
 
5 6 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 select the references to causality, which will enable the 
 reader to trace the general line of thought. Even when 
 the mind carries its reasonings from causes or effects 
 beyond objects seen or remembered, ' it must never lose 
 sight of them entirely.' ' We must establish the existence 
 of causes' (148). 'As to those impressions which arise 
 from the senses, their ultimate cause is, in my opinion, 
 perfectly inexplicable by human reason, and it will always 
 be impossible to decide with certainty whether they arise 
 immediately from the object, or are produced by th'e 
 creative power of the mind, or are derived from the 
 author of our being' (152). 'The inference we draw 
 from cause to effect is not derived merely from a survey 
 of particular objects' (155). Even 'contiguity and 
 succession ' do not prove sufficient ; our reliance is largely 
 on constant conjunction, but this implies no more than 
 this, ' that like objects have always been placed in like 
 relations of contiguity and succession,' a fact which is 
 insufficient to warrant the assertion of ' necessary con- 
 nexion ' (157). Thus ' this new discovered relation of a 
 constant conjuncture seems to advance us but very little 
 in our way.' ' Our memory presents us only with a 
 multitude of instances,' and it must be confessed that 
 ' from the mere repetition of any past impression, even to 
 infinity, there never will arise any new original idea, such 
 as that of a necessary connexion' (158). The investiga- 
 tion is thus in danger of closing in a recognition of ' con- 
 tinuity in nature ' as a fact in history, not in an explanation 
 of the philosophic maxim. A sense of helplessness seems 
 to come over the investigator, who is constrained to 
 confess that 'from the mere repetition of any past im- 
 
DAVID HUME 57 
 
 pression, even to infinity, there never will arise any new 
 original idea, such as that of a necessary connexion ' 
 (158). 'Even after the observation of the frequent or 
 constant conjunction of objects we have no reason to 
 draw any inference concerning any object beyond those 
 of experience ' (245). The alleged ' necessity ' has dis- 
 appeared, vanishing into the gathering of unsolved 
 problems, whose accumulation contributes to the building 
 up of a sceptical philosophy. Yet this search for par- 
 ticular causes would never have been instituted but for 
 the belief ' commonly taken for granted in all reasonings, 
 without any proof given or demanded,' that ' whatever 
 begins to exist must have a cause of existence' (141). 
 While trusting Experience to its utmost extent, we may 
 possibly be constrained to admit that it does not account 
 for all our thoughts. However far our observations and 
 reasonings are pushed, we cannot complete our demon- 
 stration. The small success ' has at last obliged 
 philosophers to conclude that the ultimate force and 
 efficacy of nature is perfectly unknown to us, and that 
 it is in vain we search for it in all the known qualities 
 of matter' (279). 'Suppose two objects to be presented 
 to us, of which the one is the cause and the other the 
 effect, it is plain that from the simple consideration of 
 one or both these objects we shall never perceive the tie 
 by which they are united ' (285). All that can be said is 
 this, that after ' a sufficient number of instances we im- 
 mediately feel a determination of the mind to pass from 
 one object to its usual. attendant.' This determination is 
 unexplained ; custom prevails. ' The several instances of 
 resembling conjunctions lead us into the notions of power 
 
S8 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 and necessity. . . . These instances have no union but 
 in the mind which observes them and collects their ideas. 
 . . . Necessity then is the effect of this observation, and 
 is nothing but an internal impression of the mind, or a 
 determination to carry our thoughts from one object to 
 another ' (289). This is only necessary determination of 
 our thoughts, leaving unexplained our fundamental maxim, 
 ' the necessity of a cause for every occurrence.' How he 
 regards this result appears from these words — ' I am 
 sensible that of all the paradoxes which I have had, or 
 shall hereafter have occasion to advance in the course of 
 this treatise, the present one is the most violent ' (291). 
 
 The main features of Hume's intellectual philosophy are 
 now before the reader. Our limits prevent our dealing 
 with his analysis of the passions and his theory of the 
 basis of moral distinctions. My leading purpose has been 
 to make clear what is to be understood by Hume's 
 scepticism. It is distrust of everything which transcends 
 our sensory impressions and the ' copies ' of them. All 
 certainty is reduced to passing impression and its passing 
 influence. There is no direct evidence as to the nature 
 of matter or of mind. He esteems these his chief 
 ' discoveries ' in philosophy, the exact correspondence of 
 impressions and ideas ; that association of ideas under 
 custom is the utmost reach of the understanding ; that the 
 knowledge of a cause is unattainable, and that ' the very 
 essence of belief consists in the force and vivacity of the 
 conception.' 
 
 The first volume of the Treatise does not conclude 
 without acknowledgment of the sense of his own perplexity 
 and misgiving, which has an autobiographic value of the 
 
DAVID HUME 59 
 
 highest degree. ' The intense view of the manifold con- 
 tradictions and imperfections in human reason has so 
 wrought upon me and heated my brain, that I am ready 
 to reject all belief and reasoning, and can look upon no 
 opinion even as more probable or likely than another. 
 Where am I, or what ? From what causes do I derive my 
 existence, and to what condition shall I return ? Whose 
 favour shall I court, and whose anger must I dread? 
 What beings surround me, and on whom have I any 
 influence, or who have any influence on me ? I am con- 
 founded with all these questions, and begin to fancy 
 myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable, 
 environed with the deepest darkness, and utterly deprived 
 of the use of every member and faculty. 
 
 ' Most fortunately it happens that, since reason is 
 incapable of dispelling these clouds, nature herself suffices 
 to that purpose and cures me of this philosophic melan- 
 choly and delirium, either by relaxing this bent of mind, 
 or by some avocation and lively impression of my senses, 
 which obliterate all these chimeras. I dine, I play a 
 game of back-gammon; I converse, and am merry with 
 my friends ; and when after three or four hours' amuse- 
 ment, I would return to these speculations, they appear so 
 cold, S.nd strained, and ridiculous, that I cannot find in 
 my heart to enter into them any farther.' 
 
 Still, ' I cannot forbear having a curiosity to be 
 acquainted with the principles of moral good and evil, the 
 nature and foundation of government, and the cause of 
 those several passions and incHnations which actuate and 
 govern me. I am uneasy to think I approve of one 
 object and disapprove of another ; call one thing beautiful 
 
6o FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 and another deformed ; decide concerning truth and false- 
 hood, reason and folly, without knowing on what prin- 
 ciples I proceed' (466-470). 
 
 The reception given to the Treatise was disappointing 
 to Hume. It did not on its appearance awaken any 
 marked interest. But its effect on human thought was 
 deep and lasting. A new epoch in philosophy follows 
 directly from it. Scepticism results in a stronger faith. 
 The effect on philosophy was quickening. Theology was 
 differently affected. It was resentful and actively anta- 
 gonistic. The assault was delivered from a remote point ; 
 but, on that account, it seemed all the more unsettling j 
 in challenging the foundations of all certainty, it threatened 
 religious faith by involving all belief in common disaster. 
 To the theologians of the day, who were the most earnest 
 and devoted expounders of Christianity, Hume was the 
 arch-sceptic — the adversary of religion. Their attitude 
 towards him was, however, determined more by their 
 profound sense of the interests involved, and of the con- 
 sequences to the country which would follow a period of 
 unsettled faith, than by an exact and far-reaching survey of 
 his philosophic positions. 
 
 In the region of philosophy, the result was altogether a 
 g^in. Hume led the way into the enquiry as to the 
 cSrigin of our impressions and convictions and habits of 
 thought. He opened up the large question concerning 
 the synthesis of knowledge. He tested empirical philo- 
 sophy by asking whether all things are not involved in 
 uncertainty, if experience is only a succession of sensa- 
 tions, vanishing in less vivid copies. His research in- 
 volved constant reference to objects and their relations 
 
DAVID HUME 6i 
 
 and continual allusion to the action of mind, involving 
 imagination, thought, will, custom, and general principles. 
 Hume's references to the mind or soul possess special 
 interest and are of frequent occurrence. Of these, there 
 are three which deserve to be quoted. They occur when 
 his investigations into ' the extent and force of the human 
 understanding ' is far advanced. ' What we call a mind 
 
 is nothing but_aj3Lsaj).,Qil.fiOllfiStioBJ?tdiffei^"*- perceptions, 
 united together by certain relations, and supposed, BTough 
 falsely, to be endowed with a perfect simplicity and 
 identity' (361). 'The mind 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. . . . 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 repre- 
 sented or of the materials of which it is composed' (439). 
 'I cannfij^xflcopare the soul more properly to anything 
 than to a repubhc ,o_r commonwealth, in which the^^several 
 members are united by the reciprocal ties of government 
 and subordination, and give use to other persons who 
 propagate the same republic in the incessant changes of 
 its parts. And as the same individual republic may not 
 only change its members, but also its law and constitu- 
 tions, in like manner the same person may vary his 
 character and disposition, as well as his impressions and 
 ideas, without losing his identity' (453).* The sceptical 
 bias is marked, but there is a sense of the inevitable 
 acknowledgment of an individuality — an identity of 
 * These passages occur thus — I., iv. sec. 2 ; sec. 6 ; sec. 6. 
 
62 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 being and a power of direction of conduct. The breadth 
 of significance involved may be seen, when Hume says in 
 preparing the way for the quotation last given — ' The true 
 idea of the human mind is to consider it as a system 
 of different perceptions or different existences which are 
 linked together by the relation of cause and effect, and 
 mutually produce, destroy, influence, and modify each 
 other ' (453). The passages do not readily coalesce in a 
 consistent and coherent representation of the understand- 
 ing, but they come as near to each other as seems 
 possible in a sceptical philosophy, declaring ' that all the 
 nice and subtle questions concerning personal identity can 
 never possibly be decided.' The author does not escape 
 the confession of his own despair, — ' For my part, I know 
 not what ought to be done in the present case.' ' A true 
 sceptic will be diffident of his philosophical doubts, as well 
 as of his philosophical conviction.' 
 
 Hume's references to Nature (27, 211, 321, 374,) will 
 specially interest the student of mental philosophy. His 
 service to philosophy was great even with 'his miscellaneous 
 way of reasoning ' (i., 457). His scepticism gave a fillip to 
 deeper thought ; it awakened new interest in the thinking 
 view of things ; it roused to fresh effort the men who 
 were in danger of being satisfied with dogmatic formulae. 
 It brought a searchlight on Empiricism, exposing its 
 weakness; it disclosed the large demands which philo- 
 sophy makes on Reason ; it lifted the question as to ' the 
 extent and force of the human understanding ' into a 
 position of first rank ; it introduced a new epoch, full of 
 fenergy, enthusiasm, and expectation. These results came 
 slowly ; we cannot wonder that the author was disconcerted 
 
DAVID HUME 63 
 
 and disheartened by lack of evidence of their approach ; 
 but they came surely ; yet not in such form as was ex- 
 pected by the pioneer, who whetted his axe so eagerly and 
 dealt his blows with an energy which had gathered force 
 from daily exercise. 
 
 Hume's native land was roused. The ' Scottish Philo- 
 sophy' was the fruit of his scepticism — the philosophy of 
 ' common sense,' resting on ' principles ' or essential con- 
 ditions of the understanding, without reference to which 
 no explanation of Experience is possible. The answer 
 came first, in critical form, from another Hume — Henry 
 Home, Lord Kames ; more slowly and systematically from 
 Reid, Stewart, and Hamilton, Scotland's leaders in the 
 march for 'a thinking view of things.' A deeper and 
 more elaborate answer came from Kant, who confessed 
 that he had been roused by Hume from dogmatic slumber. 
 Kant's contribution consisted of a critical examination of 
 the conditions of human knowledge — a marvel of acumen, 
 which has taxed the acuteness of later thinkers for its ex- 
 position and criticism, and has given to the synthesis of 
 human knowledge a new meaning. To Hume's scepti- 
 cism we owe the transcendental philosophy of Germany, 
 through all the developments of Kantian and Hegelian 
 thought onwards to ' the return upon Kant ' more recently 
 proclaimed. The reception of the Treatise was such that 
 he afterwards seemed ' anxious to disconnect himself with 
 the authorship' (Burton, I., 136), or, otherwise, to describe 
 it as a 'juvenile work,' 'projected before he left college ' 
 (Advertisement to Essays). On the other hand, he claims 
 that ' most of the principles and reasonings contained in 
 this volume ' of Essays were ' published ' in the Treatise ; 
 
64 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 and then he adds, ' not finding it successful, he was sen- 
 sible of his error in going to the press too early ; he cast 
 the whole anew in the following pieces.' Whatever may 
 have been the advantages in respect of the more popular 
 form of the Essays, most students of the earlier and later 
 works will concur in the judgment of Huxley as to their 
 merits, when he says, concerning the Inquiry, — ' In style, 
 it exhibits a great improvement on the Treatise ; but the 
 substance, if not deteriorated, is certainly not improved ' 
 (Huxley's Hume, p. 1 1). 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 HUME AS HISTORIAN 
 
 The disappointment felt by Hume on account of the re- 
 ception of the two first volumes of his Treatise of Human 
 Nature did not daunt him or abate his literary activity. 
 He prepared his third volume, Of Morals, which was 
 published in 1740. Thereafter, he carried through the 
 preparation of the Essays, presenting his theory in more 
 popular form, and including literary and political essays 
 along with philosophical. These he published in 1742. 
 
 He sought, however, some wider range of effort, on 
 which he might concentrate ; and he found it in History, 
 to which he forthwith devoted himself with the greatest 
 ardour. In this department of research, he shewed his 
 breadth of interest, his profound reflection on social and 
 political problems, and his acuteness on economic ques- 
 tions — the last being so marked that Macaulay has said of 
 him that he was ' undoubtedly one of the most profound 
 political economists of his time.' * 
 
 Hume's merits as a philosopher were, indeed, to some 
 extent a disadvantage to him as a historian. Philosophic 
 interests were not allowed to abate carefulness in research, 
 but these induced him to enter into general problems 
 
 * Macaulay's History of England, People's Ed., II., 399. 
 E *S 
 
66 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 more than was always advantageous to the narrative, or 
 demanded by the historic spirit. He seems to have been 
 conscious of this danger, for he remarks upon it, as one 
 of the things clear to him, that the sceptical form of his 
 philosophic inquiries must not be allowed to influence 
 his historical writing. When full of delight over the com- 
 pletion of the first volume of his History (1754). he writes 
 to a friend who ' had entertained apprehensions of his dis- 
 cretion,' explaining that he had written for the people, and 
 he is at pains to say that he had ' thought that scepticism 
 was not in its place in an historical production ' (Burton's 
 Life, I., 397). If the admission is not altogether favour- 
 able to his philosophy, it does honour to the historian. 
 Even with his best endeavour, however, he did not escape 
 from a tendency to undervalue the earnest convictions of 
 religious men, and, at times, to disparage the rights of the 
 people — a tendency resulting partly from sceptical, partly 
 from political bias. It must, at the same time, be ad- 
 mitted that his advantages were considerable from being 
 a philosopher first and a historian afterwards. Without 
 losing sight of the demand for clearness, brightness, and 
 vivacity of style, he never failed to consider deliberately 
 the political and social problems which were being worked 
 out in history. His treatment of these has such value 
 that, even when granting that the large mass of historical 
 material brought within reach since his day requires large 
 modification of his views, his glowing, and often eloquent, 
 pages may be read with advantage, as supplying a practical 
 embodiment of political philosophy. So well recognised 
 was this that Hume won distinction as ' the philosophic 
 historian.' 
 
DAVID HUME 67 
 
 In another sense, these volumes of history shew that he 
 was, at times, far from being philosophic. When dealing with 
 the principles involved in a great national movement, his 
 writing is always suggestive ; but, when passing judgment on 
 men and measures, he appears often as the partisan. He 
 felt keenly and wrote strongly, and was not infrequently 
 disposed to give way to the bias which swayed him as a 
 politician. This appears chiefly in his relation to political 
 parties, often indicated in the History, as it is avowed in 
 his private correspondence. The facts are now placed 
 in stronger light by the Letters to William Strahan, for 
 publication of which we are indebted to Lord Rosebery 
 and to Dr Birkbeck Hill, an editor at once competent and 
 unwearied. This volume of Letters is now an essential 
 supplement to Burton's Life, and is specially important 
 as bearing on the History. Hume cherished a strong 
 antagonism to the Whigs, and found occasion for express- 
 ing his enmity with a modicum of reserve. That his 
 party bias influenced him in his History admits of no 
 question. He is himself conscious of it. Burton admits 
 the consequent inconsistencies (I., 405); and though 
 Macaulay goes too far in his condemnation of alleged 
 ' sophistry,' he has ample warrant for his charge of par- 
 tisanship {Edinburgh Review, xlvii., p. 359). What the 
 philosopher's attitude should be, Hume clearly indicated 
 in his Political Discourse on The Protestant Succession, 
 when he said, — ' It belongs to a philosopher alone, who 
 is of neither party, to put all the circumstances in the 
 scale, and assign to each of them its proper poise and 
 influence' {Political Discourses [1752], p. 270). It is not 
 easy to be quite philosophic and also resolute in political 
 
68 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 action. His own representation of his attitude is this,— 
 ' With regard to politics and the character of princes and 
 great men, I think I am very moderate. My views of 
 things are more conformable to Whig principles ; my re- 
 presentations oi persons to Tory prejudices. Nothing can 
 so much prove that men commonly regard more persons 
 than things, as to find that I am commonly numbered 
 among the Tories ' (Burton, II., ii). When the keenness 
 of Hume's antagonism to the leaders of the Commons in 
 the time of Charles I. is considered, this admission must 
 be remembered, that they were ' a set of men of the most 
 uncommon capacity and the largest views ' {History, vol. 
 vi., p. 184, ed. 181 3). In writing to his publisher, he 
 says, ' I think I have kept clear of party in my History ' 
 {Letters to Strahan, p. 32). There is, however, reason 
 to sympathise with Macaulay's criticism of the History 
 {Edinburgh Review, vol. Ixvii.), — 'Though a great work, 
 drawn by a master hand, it has all the lights Tory, and all 
 the shades Whig.' 
 
 Granting that serious deductions are to be made from 
 its claim to authority, his History is ' a great work,' pos- 
 sessing high value for present-day readers, equally on 
 account of its vivid descriptions of grand events and of 
 its philosophic insight. His devotion to historical re- 
 search is beyond all praise. He searches unweariedly 
 through books, parliamentary reports, and other sources 
 of information. He corresponds with specialists on ques- 
 tions of perplexity, as, for example, when seeking to ascer- 
 tain the value of 'subsidies' at different periods in our 
 Parliamentary history. And he persists, with surprising 
 constancy and care, in the revision of successive editions 
 
DAVID HUME 69 
 
 of his writings ; so that it is not without solid foundation 
 that he keeps repeating his claims to confidence and 
 honour. 'I certainly deserve the approbation of the 
 public from my care and disinterestedness, however de- 
 ficient in other particulars' {Letters to Strahan, p. i). 
 His election to the office of Librarian in the Advocates' 
 Library, Edinburgh, had this special attraction for him, 
 that it gave him unrestricted 'command of a large 
 library,' — a storehouse of materials for the historian. 
 At the same time, this election had a transitory interest 
 which he keenly relished ; he was brimful of delight be- 
 cause he had triumphed over the social forces in the city, 
 opposed to him avowedly on account of his sceptical 
 philosophy. 
 
 His ideal of history was lofty, and was kept well in 
 view, even though occasionally beclouded by political 
 bias. ' History, the great mistress of wisdom, furnishes 
 examples of all kinds ; and every prudential, as well as 
 moral precept, may be authorised by those events, 
 which her enlarged mirror is able to present to us ' 
 {History, chap, lix., vol. vii., p. 138, ed. 18 13). 
 The philosopher and historian are at one in such an 
 utterance. Along with it may be quoted a passage from 
 the introduction to his Treatise, — ' However other nations 
 may rival us in poetry, and excel us in some other agree- 
 able arts, the improvements in reason and philosophy can 
 only be owing to a land of toleration and of liberty.' He 
 felt proud in being one of a group of Scotchmen who had 
 devoted themselves to history, — ' I believe this is the 
 historical age, and this the historical nation ' {Letters to 
 Strahan, p. 155). 
 
70 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 For his first effort, Hume selected the Stuart Period, 
 including in his first volume the reigns of James and 
 Charles I. His attraction to the period was found in 
 its comparative nearness to his own time, and in the 
 wealth of material which lay ready to hand. Subsidiary 
 was the pride in Scotland's honour in giving a monarch 
 to England, and the vital concern which Scotland felt in 
 the progress of the United Kingdom. The selection 
 nevertheless involved the historian in special difficulties, 
 special to the times as involving the perplexing occur- 
 rences which led up to the Revolution, special to the 
 writer on account of religious questions being so deeply 
 involved in the conflict between the Commons and the 
 Crown. Hume faced his difficulties with philosophic 
 deliberation, if also with admixture of keen personal feel- 
 ing. When the first volume appeared in 1754, it raised 
 a storm of criticism, which the philosopher braved with 
 some sense of irritation. When the second volume ap- 
 peared in 1756, including the period from the death of 
 Charles I. to the Revolution, it was received with much 
 more favour. These two volumes gave him celebrity, far 
 beyond anything achieved by his philosophic works ; from 
 their appearance he ranked as a great public man, who 
 did honour to his country, and who had written with a 
 power and vividness of description which went to the 
 heart of the people, and made references to his writings 
 familiar in the arena of Parliament, and in the private 
 correspondence of the leading politicians of the day. 
 That Hume was a man of strong poUtical bias made the 
 references the more numerous and telling; and if he 
 was rendered famous in his day, he suffered a penalty 
 
DAVID HUME 71 
 
 attending on fame ; he had to wince under an attack 
 from Chatham, delivered with force of eloquence in the 
 House of Lords. 
 
 After the storm of criticism had ceased, it appeared 
 that the second volume had been the more popular. 
 Hume's own judgment was at variance with the award of 
 his critics. ' I must own that in my private judgment the 
 first volume of my History is by far the best ; the subject 
 was more noble, and admitted both of greater ornaments 
 of eloquence and nicer distinctions of reasoning. How- 
 ever, if the public is so capricious as to prefer the second, 
 I am very well pleased, and hope the prepossession in my 
 favour will operate backwards and remove even the pre- 
 judices formerly contracted ' {Letters to Strahan, p. 4). 
 The adverse judgment pronounced on the first volume 
 concentrated mainly on the defence of Charles against the 
 demands of the people. His defence of the kingly pre- 
 rogative was the more resented that it was manifestly at 
 variance with many of his avowed political maxims. 
 Even after all has been said as to his reasonings, his 
 moral sentiment, and his eloquence, it must be granted 
 that his sympathy with Charles as a brave man, sorely 
 driven and tried, carried him to an altitude of antagonism 
 to popular rights at variance with his deeper and life-long 
 convictions. Burton, who shews the utmost favour for 
 Hume, admits that his published opinions were strangely 
 at variance with much of the writing in the first volume of 
 the History. ' In his philosophical examination of the 
 principles of government, written in times of hot party 
 feeling, he had discarded the theories of arbitrary pre- 
 rogative and divine right with bold and calm disdain.' 
 
72 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 (Life of Hume, I., 402). The current of his thought went 
 strongly against regal domination; his sympathy was 
 avowedly with ' the sentiments of liberty, honour, equity, 
 and valour' (History, I., 178, ed. 1821). He granted 
 as to the leaders of the Commons, that ' these generous 
 patriots,' ' animated with a warm regard to liberty,' aimed 
 only at ' reducing the prerogative within more reasonable 
 compass' (History, VI., p. 184, ed. 1863). In view of 
 these declarations, we cannot wonder at Jeffrey's criticism 
 — ' that he should have sided with the Tudors and the 
 Stuarts against the people seems quite inconsistent with 
 the great traits of his character ' (Edinburgh Review, xii., 
 276). 
 
 The explanation is not found in any change of opinion, 
 or in any conclusion slowly reached after deliberate criti- 
 cism, or in finer appreciation of the difficulties belonging 
 to the period of political development in our rational 
 history, or in blindness to the merits of the popular 
 leaders, or to the demerits of the kings. The key seems 
 to be found in certain outstanding characteristics of the 
 philosophic historian ; first, the excess of philosophic 
 indifference, or ' capdid indifference,' which he specially 
 commends and reckons as rare (see History, vol. vi., p. 12); 
 second, in his enmity against ' zealots,' political and 
 religious ; and, further (perhaps most of all), in his dread 
 of outbursts of excited feeling among the populace,^' the 
 enthusiastic fire which afterwards set the whole nation in 
 combustion' (History, vol. vi.,vi269, ed. 1813). These 
 seem to me the causes, the force of which can be allowed 
 without approval of their influence on the History. The 
 result was a singular blending of antipathy and sympathy 
 
DAVID HUME 73 
 
 towards the Puritans. It was occasion of intense annoy- 
 ance to Hume to find that ' the enquiries and debates 
 concerning tonnage and poundage went hand in hand 
 with theological or metaphysical controversies,' touching 
 ' subjects where it is not allowable for human nature to 
 expect any positive truth or certainty.' It is easy to 
 imagine the intense wrath of Hume against 'the puri- 
 tanical sectaries.' There must have been much show of 
 spirit when he was dealing with such subjects, inducing 
 temporary forgetfulness of lofty prerogative, and of the 
 forces of the Court of High Commission and the Star 
 Chamber. His antipathy flashes out with fury against 
 Cromwell, from his first appearance in the House of Com- 
 mons. Oliver Cromwell, 'complaining of one who, he 
 was told, preached flat popery,' receives from Hume this 
 sUghting remark — 'It is amusing to observe the first 
 words of this fanatical hypocrite correspond so exactly 
 to his character' {History, VI., 248). The age which 
 has gained possession of Oliver Cromwell's Letters and 
 Speeches is incapable of accepting the word ' hypocrite ' 
 as applicable to the hero of the great struggle of the 
 Puritans; and this 'young man of no account in the 
 nation ' afterwards wins from Hume the acknowledg- 
 ment of a 'rough but dexterous hand,' and of 'the 
 unparalleled greatness which he afterwards attained ' 
 {History, VII., 97) — a leader in an age 'with awful, 
 august, heroic thoughts in its heart, and at last with 
 steel sword in its hand,' (Carlyle's Cromwell, intro., 
 vol. i., p. 68). 
 
 The first volume of the History called forth an anony- 
 mous volume — Letters on Mr Hume's History of Great 
 
74 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 Britain — published in Edinburgh in 1756, and generally 
 attributed to Daniel Macqueen, D.D. The volume is 
 devoted to a criticism of Hume's treatment of religion. 
 These letters arose out of a discussion of the merits of the 
 History at a social gathering. Their criticism is directed 
 mainly against two passages, in which Hume dwells on 
 ' two species of religion — the superstitious and the 
 fanatical.' The former is illustrated in the Romish Church, 
 the latter in the Reformed. The author proposes ' candid 
 and calm debate,' and proceeds to set forth his complaint 
 against 'the author's indecent excursions on the sub- 
 ject of religion, the genius of the Protestant faith, and the 
 characters of the first reformers' (p. 4). He vindicates 
 ' the right of private judgment in all matters of religion,' 
 with the rejection of ' splendour and glittering pomp of 
 worship,' and claims for the reformed faith deliverance of 
 men from the 'delusion of an over-heated imagination.' 
 This formal criticism was in harmony with a very wide 
 expression of dissatisfaction. Its prevalence affected the 
 mind of Hume, and in course of his corrections, and the 
 adjustment of the volume to its place in a more extended 
 plan, his references to religion are modified, and the more 
 offensive passages concerning the reformers and their 
 beliefs disappear. In a letter to Dr Clephane he says — 
 ' I am convinced that whatever I have said of religion 
 should have received more softenings. There is no pas- 
 sage in the History which strikes in the least at Revela- 
 tion. But as I run over all the sects successively, and 
 speak of each with some disregard, the reader, putting the 
 whole together, concludes that I am of no sect, which to 
 him will appear the same thing as the being of no religion ' 
 
DAVID HUME 75 
 
 (Burton's Life, II., p. 10). Burton, remarking on his 
 'consciousness that some apology was called for,' gives 
 the ' draft of a preface ' to his second volume, the sub- 
 stance of which was ultimately inserted as a note towards 
 the end of that volume. In this he says — ' It ought to be 
 no matter of offence that in this volume, as well as in the 
 foregoing, the mischief which arose from the abuses of 
 religion are so often mentioned, while so little in com- 
 parison is said of the salutary consequences which result 
 from true and genuine piety.' In a few carefully chosen 
 paragraphs he explains and vindicates 'the free and 
 impartial manner in which he has treated religious con- 
 troversy ' (Burton, II., p. 11). 
 
 When Hume escapes from direct contact with those 
 whom he regarded as ' enraged and fanatical reformers,' 
 and contemplates the progress of civil and religious liberty, 
 his judgment and better feeling come out in a different 
 phase. Then he acknowledges that ' the precious spark 
 of liberty had been kindled, and was preserved by the 
 Puritans alone.' ' It is to them that the English owe the 
 whole freedom of their constitution.' These utterances 
 must be kept before us when we form our judgment of 
 his account of the reign of Charles I. Throughout both 
 volumes on the Stuart dynasty there runs a strong bias in 
 favour of the monarchs with whom the people were at 
 variance. While he allows that ' the views of the popular 
 leaders were more judicious and profound ' than those of 
 the Court favourites, he seems willing to defer to the lofty 
 admonition of a king who claims to be superior 'by 
 nature,' and takes such a view of popular rights as to be 
 disposed to write in terms such as these — ' To be sacrificed 
 
76 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 to the interest, policy, and ambition of the great is so 
 much the common lot of the people that they may 
 appear unreasonable who would pretend to complain 
 of it' {History, chap, li., vol. vi., 215-217, ed. 181 3, 
 referring to the discontent which prevailed at the as- 
 sembling of Charles' third Parliament). When the 
 complications thicken, and Charles, after the rupture 
 with the Parliament, is encountering evil days, and at 
 length is a captive, and the army is dominant over 
 Parliament, Hume's horror is such that he finds it a 
 hard task ' to put all the circumstances in the scale, 
 and assign to each of them its proper poise and in- 
 fluence.' The wrong-doings of Charles are forgotten, 
 and his woes make powerful appeal to the feelings of 
 the historian — with the terrible scenes vividly present 
 to his imagination, and his feelings roused to passionate 
 sympathy, he is by many subtle influences drawn to 
 the position of a partisan without being able to maintain 
 the critical spirit for which he was distinguished. He 
 was not abandoning the popular cause and assuming 
 the responsibility of the vindicator of kingly oppres- 
 sion ; but he was ready to argue that ' it is seldom that 
 the people gain anything by revolutions in Government ' 
 (chap, lix., vol. vii., 107, ed. 1813); and to maintain 
 that ' Government is instituted in order to restrain the 
 fury and injustice of the people ; and being always 
 founded on opinion, not on force, it is dangerous to 
 weaken, by these speculations, the reverence which 
 the multitude owe to authority, and to instruct them 
 beforehand that the case can ever happen, when they may 
 be freed from their duty of allegiance ' (vii., 136). When 
 
DAVID HUME 77 
 
 these springs of feeling have been traced and noted, we 
 have the secret of Hume's treatment of the Stuart dynasty. 
 Allowing for the immense difference which separates 
 dethronement from execution ; and granting that Hume 
 has reason for his strong condemnation of the latter, we are 
 still surprised to find what we should hardly have expected 
 from ' the philosophic historian,' a fear of open discussion, 
 and apprehension of the results if the people are allowed 
 to pass from leading strings. After considering the sad 
 issue of the conflict between the royal prerogative and the 
 liberty of the people, and specially of Parliament, he is 
 prepared to admit that one is ' at a loss to determine what 
 conduct in the king's circumstances could have maintained 
 the authority of the crown, and preserved the peace of the 
 nation ' (vii., p. 135). 
 
 But, apart from his opinions on the subjects named, the 
 historic spirit and power of the author are fitted to 
 awaken high admiration. His appreciation of Charles' 
 fidelity to his friends and of his acuteness in carrying out 
 negotiations with the Parliamentary leaders ; his descrip- 
 tion of the king's interview with his family, and of his 
 noble and courageous bearing in meeting a violent death, 
 are outstanding examples of high excellence in historic 
 writing. 
 
 His scheme advanced to more extended proportions as 
 his interest developed. He passed back to include the 
 Tudors, publishing in 1759, two volumes on The History 
 of England under the House of Tudor. Thereafter he con- 
 templated a complete history, the earliest period coming 
 last in the order of treatment. The result was The His- 
 tory of England from tlie invasion of Julius Ccesar to the 
 
78 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 accession of Henry VII., in two volumes, published in 
 1 761. These separate works were subsequently revised 
 and combined, presenting Hume's History of England 
 as we are now familiar with it in the eight volume 
 editions. 
 
 The work of composition, revision, and reconstruction 
 was carried out with the utmost care and with unceasing 
 interest. The conditions of work are full of interest now. 
 He was constantly negotiating for 'franks' under which 
 he could convey manuscript without charge ; and when he 
 had a new volume or a large mass of revised material, he 
 announces by post to his publisher in London that ' it 
 will be put into the stage coach in two white iron boxes,' 
 or will be put into ' the fly ' on a given date, and may be 
 looked for ' about three weeks hence.' On the first 
 negotiation for appearance of the History, Hamilton, the 
 Edinburgh publisher, writes to Strahan, the London 
 publisher, ' we have been at due pains to inform ourselves 
 of the merit of the work, and are well satisfied on that head 
 that it is the pettiest thing that ever was attempted in the 
 English History ' (Letters to Strahan, p. 3). After its 
 value had been tested by the sale of successive editions, 
 Strahan urges the extension of the History. Writing in 
 1 77 1, Strahan says — ' If you write another volume, which 
 the best judges of writing are daily enquiring after, you may 
 demand what you please. It shall be granted ' (Letters 
 to Strahan, p. 198). Again in 1772 Strahan writes sug- 
 gesting motives for the continuation of the History, 'in 
 which if you will make some progress, however trifling, I 
 will venture to say you will find your immediate account 
 in it' (lb., p. 243). And once more, in August 1766, 
 
DAVID HUME 79 
 
 Strahan writes — ' Your History sells better of late years 
 than before ; for the late edition will be gone some time 
 before this can be finished. In short, I see clearly your 
 reputation is gradually rising in the public esteem ' {Jb., 
 340). 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 HUME IN THE GOVERNMENT SERVICE 
 
 When Hume had reached the age of fifty-two he had 
 achieved fame, and was in possession of resources which 
 made him comparatively independent. He was settled in 
 Edinburgh in his house in James Court, overlooking the 
 ' Nor' Loch,' and having a wide sweep of view, stretching 
 over the fields and across the Firth of Forth to the shores 
 of Fife. His mind was full of the prospect of learned 
 leisure, of quiet days, and of jovial evenings among a 
 circle of choice friends. This was the reward of these 
 long years of literary labour through which he had toiled 
 unceasingly ; now he meant to enjoy well-earned rest — 
 possibly spending his days in 'idleness and sauntering, 
 and society ' — a vision which had often floated attractively 
 before his eyes. 
 
 But suddenly a new prospect opened in manner and 
 form unexpected. In 1763, the Earl of Hertford was 
 appointed Ambassador to the French Court ; the secretary 
 nominated to the Embassy was unacceptable to him, but, 
 being highly connected, he could not be removed until a 
 favourable opening offered. In these circumstances the 
 Earl looked around for a secretary who should be his own 
 nominee. To the surprise of Hume, he received from 
 
 So 
 
DAVID HUME 8i 
 
 the Earl of Hertford a proposal that he should act in the 
 capacity of secretary. Hume's picture of his future had 
 been so different from this that after his first sense of sur- 
 prise, and satisfaction with the honour done him, had 
 passed away, he felt reluctant to move. He has thus 
 described the situation. ' I was become not only inde- 
 pendent but opulent, I retired to my native country of 
 Scotland, determined never more to set my foot out of it. 
 As I was now turned of fifty, I thought of passing all the 
 rest of my life in this philosophical manner, when I re- 
 ceived an invitation from the Earl of Hertford, with whom 
 I was not in the least acquainted, to attend him on his 
 embassy to Paris with a near prospect of being appointed 
 secretary to the embassy ; and, in the meanwhile, of per- 
 forming the functions of that office ' {My Own Life). 
 
 This offer of an oflScial position is in itself matter of 
 much interest, as shewing the impression Hume had 
 made on the Parliamentary and ofiicial circle in the 
 United Kingdom. To his recognised distinction as a 
 philosophic historian, the invitation from the Ambassador 
 was due. The Earl of Hertford had no direct know- 
 ledge of Hume; he was a nobleman of 'decorum and 
 piety ' ; so that his selection of the philosophic historian, 
 who was traditionally the philosophical sceptic, shews 
 how high was the confidence he had, not only in his 
 political sagacity, but also in his moral character. Hume 
 felt the stimulating force of the selection, and with sense 
 of the humour of the situation, he quotes with naive satis- 
 faction the words of his friend Elliot, that 'were he to 
 be proposed for the see of Lambeth no objection could 
 henceforth be made to him ' (Burton, II., 1 5 9). 
 
 F 
 
82 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 Hume declined the offer when first submitted. The 
 reasons given in My Own Life are these, — 'because I 
 was reluctant to begin connections with the great, and 
 because I was afraid that the civilities and gay company 
 of Paris would prove disagreeable to a man of my age 
 and humour.' The latter clause is sufificiently comical 
 when Hume's fondness for gaiety and gallantry are con- 
 sidered ; but it is the expression of feeling quite natural 
 to him, because of his preference for a few chosen friends, 
 with whom he could meet in unrestricted freedom. 
 
 The Earl of Hertford was generous enough to repeat 
 his invitation, and to urge its acceptance. On this re- 
 newal of the request, Hume consented, feeling the ad- 
 vantage there might be in being thus roused 'from a 
 state of indolence and sloth ' : and also the many attrac- 
 tions of residence in the French capital. Only afterwards, 
 when occupied with preliminary arrangements, did Hume 
 get to know why the proposal did not come in the form 
 of immediate appointment to the position of Secretary 
 to the Embassy; and only then did he ascertain that 
 the Earl, in selecting him, had regard not only to his 
 intellectual and acquired fitness for the post, but also 
 to the possibility of his supplying important aid to 
 his son, Lord Beauchamp, when preparing for public 
 service. 
 
 Hume was specially fortunate in this entrance on 
 official life. There was no capital in Europe where 
 his writings were so well known, and his philosophical 
 and political positions so fully appreciated as in Paris. 
 His History had been applauded by writers so dis- 
 tinguished as Voltaire and Rousseau ; and the sceptical 
 
DAVID HUME 83 
 
 bias of his philosophy found favour with the French of 
 the period. Besides, the custom and fashion of the 
 French capital assigned a prominent place in society 
 to literary celebrities. Hume had, in his literary fame, 
 his introduction to the best society; and when, besides, 
 he appeared as the official secretary of the British Am- 
 bassador, his distinction was magnified in a manner 
 additionally attractive. The philosopher, who felt small 
 attraction to the society and the official circles of London, 
 — who in the freedom and spontaneous exaggeration of 
 his private correspondence wrote of 'the factious bar- 
 barians of London' (Letter to Robertson, — Burton, II., 
 178), — became ready to burst out in loud terms of ad- 
 miration of the French, 'observing on what a different 
 footing learning and the learned are here, from what 
 they are among the factious barbarians above-mentioned.' 
 This tendency to playful exaggeration, appearing in 
 familiar conversation and correspondence, tended to in- 
 crease the force of feeling which marked a weakness in 
 our philosopher. 
 
 His entrance into French society was a novel experience 
 for Hume. It was the triumph of an illustrious author 
 and thinker, who, notwithstanding a certain awkwardness 
 of manner, was found to be a genial spirit and a ready 
 wit, sensitive to the applause which French society lavishes 
 on its favourites. The ' Great David ' became one of the 
 lions of the noted drawing-rooms of Paris. His first days 
 in the capital, and those afterwards spent at Fontainbleau, 
 pleased him greatly, introducing him not only to the 
 splendours of court life, but to the lavish applause in 
 which the refined courtiers and ladies of France indulge. 
 
84 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 Shortly after his arrival, — ■26th October 1763, he writes 
 to Adam Smith, — ' I have been three days at Paris and 
 two at Fontainbleau, and have everywhere met with the 
 most extraordinary honours, which the most exorbitant 
 vanity could wish or desire.' Compliments came from 
 the dukes and mareschals of France, and flattery of the 
 most unrestrained form from the conspicuous ladies of 
 Parisian society. He is at first disturbed by the little 
 speeches which greeted him, and then he settled into 
 the pleased feeling of one who has found entrance 
 into a choice circle, and is welcomed on every appear- 
 ance. He saw much of the grace and vivacity of the 
 French salon; and he saw besides not a little of the 
 vice in the midst of that refinement, — saw without approv- 
 ing,— and without being dragged into the vortex. There 
 was in Hume a boyish exuberance of feeling when placed 
 in circumstances novel and attractive. This lent piquancy 
 to the accession of the Scotchman to the brilliant drawing- 
 room gatherings. In the round of gaiety and display of 
 intellectual wealth, he found intense pleasure. The more 
 staid feeling of his reflective hours finds expression in 
 the letter to Adam Smith from which a quotation has 
 already been given. ' During the two last days, in 
 particular, that I have been at Fontainbleau, I have 
 suffered (the expression is not improper) as much flattery 
 as almost any man has ever done in the same time.' But 
 he adds, — ' I assure you, I reap more internal satisfaction 
 from the very amiable manners and character of the 
 family in which I live (I mean Lord and Lady Hertford 
 and Lord Beauchamp) than from all these external 
 vanities; and it is that domestic enjoyment which must 
 
DAVID HUME 85 
 
 be considered as the agreeable circumstance in my situa- 
 tion' (Burton, II., 171). 
 
 Hume discharged the duties of Secretary to the British 
 Embassy with a concentration of mind, precision in detail, 
 and sense of responsibility, which fully sustained the ex- 
 pectations of Earl Hertford. So much did he himself feel 
 interest in the round of work, that he writes, after nearly 
 six months' experience, ' Though I have entered late into 
 this scene of life, I am almost as much at my ease, as if I 
 had been educated in it from infancy' (Burton, II., 196). 
 At the close of his work, the Earl spoke with admiration 
 of his 'abilities and ease in business' (lb., 289). 
 
 The round of fashionable entertainments which it was 
 desirable to accept in the interests of the Embassy con- 
 siderably restricted Hume's opportunity of entering into 
 intimate relations with the learned circles in Paris. As 
 opportunity offered, however, he found occasion and a 
 special satisfaction in the literary gatherings. The more 
 outstanding names amongst those whose friendship he 
 enjoyed are D'Alembut, Turgot, Diderot, Helbach, Hel- 
 vertius, Buffon and Henault. (For an account of French 
 literary circles at this time see Edinburgh Review, xv., 
 459, and xvii., 290.) 
 
 Not till July 13th, 1765, did Hume receive his commis- 
 sion under the Great Seal as Secretary to the Embassy. 
 For more than a year and a half he fulfilled all the duties 
 of the office, while acting only as the nominee of the 
 Ambassador. More than a month before the date of the 
 commission, when the tidings reached him that he had 
 been nominated to the office, he had written to his friend 
 Elliot, expressing his delight that he was now ' possessed 
 
86 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 of an office of credit and of ;^i2oo a year.' But the 
 honour was not long continued. Shortly after Hume 
 had received his credentials, Lord Hertford was recalled, 
 on account of a change of Government. The Earl had 
 been appointed to the Embassy by Bute, and continued 
 by Grenville (Walpole's Memoirs of Geo. III., i., 391) J 
 but in July 1765, when the Rockingham administration 
 came in, Hertford was nominated Lord-Lieutenant of 
 Ireland, while Conway, his brother, became Secretary of 
 State, and leader of the House of Commons. Hume 
 had just gained his official position when he learned that 
 he must forthwith surrender it. The change did not 
 affect his distinction in the eyes of the French Court 
 and of the leaders of fashion in Paris, but for him the 
 brilliance vanished within less than a month. The trouble 
 of this was abated greatly by the prospect of promotion to 
 the rank of secretary at Dublin, for Hertford indicated not 
 only his desire for this, but his determination to secure it. 
 In the sudden withdrawal of the Ambassador, Hume 
 had an accession of influence in Paris, along with seriously 
 increased responsibilities. He was left Chargd d' Affaires, 
 being entrusted with the duties of British representative 
 until the Duke of Richmond, the new Ambassador, 
 arrived. From July till October, Hume held this 
 position ; and he set himself to a careful dealing with 
 the important questions which demanded attention. 
 Lord Brougham had occasion afterwards to make the 
 procedure of the Embassy, during these months, matter 
 of close investigation. We have his judgment of it on 
 record : — ' By Lord Aberdeen's kindness, I have been 
 allowed to examine the correspondence of the Embassy 
 
DAVID HUME 87 
 
 with Marshal Conway during these four months ; and 
 it is highly creditable to the philosopher's business-like 
 talents and his capacity for affairs. The negotiations 
 of which he had the sole conduct related to the im- 
 portant and interesting discussions of Canada; matters 
 arising out of the cession, by the Peace of Paris; and 
 to the demolition of the works at Dunkirk, also stipu- 
 lated by that treaty' {Lives of Men of Letters, p. 225 — 
 quoted by Burton, ii., 283). 
 
 During this busy season, Hume's private interests 
 concentrated on the prospect of his being nominated 
 to the office of Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ire- 
 land. The prospect of such distinction had caused 
 quite a flutter of excitement at Ninewells; and was 
 eagerly watched by literary friends in Edinburgh. The 
 Earl of Hertford was eager for Hume's transference along 
 with him to Dublin, and used his influence with the King 
 and the Government, in face of the powerful prejudices 
 against ' the free-thinker.' But official traditions were 
 against him, and ' the official ring ' prevailed. Hertford 
 had to yield before a force which he could not resist, and 
 he was appeased by having his own son, Lord Beauchamp, 
 appointed, of whom Hume had expressed high admira- 
 tion. For Hume the disappointment was great ; but 
 after turmoil of feeling endured for a season, and much 
 reluctance to part from Paris, he resolved on return to 
 Edinburgh, and to the quiet of a literary life, in which he 
 found his satisfaction. 
 
 The prospect of a high official position in the home 
 country, with _;^2ooo a year, and growing influence in 
 official circles, vanished like a dream, and with it well-nigh 
 
88 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 vanished Hume's thoughts of Government service. The 
 end was not yet, but it was not far off. He had felt from 
 the first that he had started on the diplomatic service too 
 late in life ; and now he was not averse to return to his 
 familiar occupations. He had passed through a new ex- 
 perience ; he had tasted a new joy ; and he felt that his 
 life had been enlarged. He had smarted often, and 
 acutely too, under the prejudice against him in his 
 native land ; but now he had basked in the sunshine 
 of popular favour in France. The pleasing experience 
 had been valued as an offset against the antagonism 
 which met him at home. Now, he could return with 
 his laurels, and, even more, with the assurance that his 
 literary labours in Philosophy and in History had made 
 an impression, not only deeper, but much wider in range 
 than he had previously known. He could not, indeed, 
 foresee how much larger his influence was yet to be, his 
 life would not last long enough to make this clear. But 
 he was happy to go back to his native city — the capital of 
 his native land — there to carry forward the work he had 
 planned, before the attractions of the Embassy in Paris 
 had been presented to him. Mr Mure narrates his return 
 about the same time as Sir James Stewart, when the atten- 
 tion of the passers was arrested with the French cut of the 
 laced coats and bags, and especially with the philosopher's 
 ' ponderous, uncouth person equipped in a bright yellow 
 coat spotted with black.'* 
 
 When the time had come for his return to Edinburgh, 
 the Earl of Hertford had secured for him a pension of 
 ;^4oo a year. In further acknowledgment of his able 
 
 * Caldwell Papers, i., 38, quoted in Letters to Sirahan, p. 86. 
 
DAVID HUME 89 
 
 services to the nation, which had met with singularly 
 scant return, he received in the following year, 1767, 
 from Mr Conway 'an invitation to be Under-Secretary.' 
 This communication was followed up by a letter from 
 Lady Hertford urging acceptance. 'This invitation,' 
 Hume says, 'both the character of the person and my 
 connexions with Lord Hertford, prevented me from 
 declining.' He had just been in Edinburgh for a short 
 time, busy writing about his quarrel with Rousseau, and 
 about the difficulties emerging with his publishers as to 
 the issue of his pamphlet in reply to the irate Frenchman, 
 when he had to make ready for removal to London, where 
 in the end of February 1767, he was installed in office, 
 under the direction of the Leader of the House of Com- 
 mons, Mr Conway, brother of Lord Hertford. Hume 
 never took kindly to London, and could not at first 
 escape the feeling of 'a banished man.' But he was 
 soon again at ease in the midst of official work. 
 Writing to Blair, he says, 'I pass all the forenoon in 
 the Secretary's house from ten till three, where there 
 arrive from time to time messengers that bring me all 
 the secrets of the kingdom, and indeed of Europe, Asia, 
 Africa, and America.' To this he adds. General Conway 
 ' is the most reasonable, equal tempered, and gentleman- 
 like man imaginable.' ' Only I shall not regret when my 
 duty is over, because to me the situation can lead to 
 nothing, at least in all probability' (Burton, IL, 384). 
 Hume continued in office until General Conway re- 
 signed, which occurred on 20th July 1768. Then he 
 went forth, feeling a free man; but with a circle of 
 influential friends with whom he continued in intimate 
 
90 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 relations. He did not leave London at once; but we 
 find him back to his own house in Edinburgh — the 
 familiar house in James's Court — in August 1769. He 
 has disappeared from the circle of official servants of 
 the Crown, to resume his pondering of the deeper 
 problems of human life. In a letter to Sir Gilbert Elliot, 
 written October i6th, 1769, he says: — 'I am here body 
 and soul, withojit casting the least thought of regret to 
 London or even to Paris.' 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Hume's attitude as to religion 
 
 Being in philosophy a sceptic as to all that transcends in- 
 dividual experience, Hume was regarded and treated as a 
 sceptic in religion. ' Hume the Atheist ' was a designation 
 of him not uncommon. Accordingly, he was disliked and 
 resisted as the enemy of religion In the boldness of his 
 spirit he rather courted antagonism ; yet the sense of odium 
 fretted his life, and often seriously embittered it. 
 
 This traditional view of his position, though erroneous, 
 still lingers among us, on account of the difficulty of dis- 
 tinguishing between a man's theory and his faith. To Hume 
 it was matter of satisfaction that ' our most holy religion 
 is founded on Faith, not on Reason.' Most Christians will 
 hold that faith and reason are united in the religious life ; 
 and rehgious faith at least is honoured by Hume. His 
 scepticism belonged to the region of philosophy, not to the 
 sphere of religion. No doubt, scepticism, in dealing even 
 with the abstruse problems of the universe, must in some 
 degree react on faith and feeling. But in Hume's life it 
 never banished them. He had started with the assump- 
 tion that certainty depends altogether on the senses ; and 
 as the knowledge of God cannot come in this way, religion 
 was for him exclusively a matter of faith. Yet so difficult 
 is it for a man to adhere to his theory, that he, supposing ' 
 
 91 
 
92 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 himself to be Epicurus, addressing the Athenians, says, 
 ' Religion is nothing but a species of Philosophy ' (Green, 
 Works, IV., 171 ; Inquiry Coruerning Human Under- 
 standing, sec. xi.. Of a Particular Providence and of a 
 Future State, ed. Selby-Bigge, section 113). No life of 
 Hume can be accurate which depicts him as ' Hume the 
 Atheist' 
 
 How his thought concerning the philosophic interpreta- 
 tion of the universe widened out will readily appear by 
 reference to his theory of morals. In theory he held that 
 utility is the measure of rightness — a poor enough theory I 
 admit, but he maintained at the same time that our regard 
 for moral distinctions depends on ' a feeling which Nature 
 has made universal in the race.' The Supreme Power 
 rules for righteousness. ' The Deity is known to us only 
 by his productions.' ' As the universe shews wisdom and 
 goodness, we infer wisdom and goodness ' {Inquiry Con- 
 cerning Human Understanding, sec. xi.). 
 
 Conclusive as this evidence is, Hume made such open 
 and formal avowal of his sceptical philosophy, as if it were 
 matter of enjoyment to him to do so (Burton, II., 443), that 
 he was resisted by the religious men of his time as the adver- 
 sary of earnest religious life. On the other hand, he was 
 the intimate friend of prominent clergymen, such as Blair, 
 ' Jupiter ' Carlyle, and Home, though these belonged to 
 the ' moderate ' school. Nevertheless, of the intensity of 
 antagonism to him, we have this striking testimony, that 
 his most intimate friend, Adam Smith, was strenuously 
 opposed to the publication of his critical views, and 
 expressed this opinion in strongest terms even after 
 Hume's death, when the question was raised whether the 
 
DAVID HUME 93 
 
 author's desire should be respected as to the printing 
 of the Dialogues on Religion. We have besides evidence 
 of the spirit of the times in the fact that a complaint was 
 made against Hume before the Presbytery of Edinburgh 
 that he should be subjected to discipline for heterodoxy ; 
 this was formally discussed, but rejected. It is mainly to 
 the impression made by the Essay on Miracles that the 
 intensity of feeling cherished in religious circles is to be 
 attributed. 
 
 In our day, it is possible, by deliberate and critical 
 investigation of his writings, to form a fuller and more 
 favourable judgment of his position. He seriously con- 
 cealed and beclouded his position, not only by the promi- 
 nence given to the sceptical element in his philosophy, 
 but by the boldness with which he maintained the sceptics' 
 attitude. To himself we must assign a large share of 
 responsibiUty for the prevalence of the traditional view 
 which represented him as the enemy of religion. He 
 cherished horror of the ' Zealots ' ; they, with vastly 
 greater reason, dreaded that ' candid indifference ' which 
 he exemplified and commended. 
 
 For evidence of his attitude towards religious faith 
 and reverence we have four conspicuous portions of his 
 works : — His Essay on Miracles ; his Natural History of 
 Religion ; his History of England, especially in the volume 
 first published ; and his Dialogues on Religion, prepared 
 with great care, and by his own express wish, published 
 only after his death. 
 
 The history of the Essay on Miracles (constituting 
 sec. X. of Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding) is 
 important. In My Own Life the reference to it is 
 
94 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 only indirect. But in a letter to Principal Campbell, 
 author of Dissertation on Miracles, he writes : — ' It may 
 perhaps amuse you to learn the first hint which suggested 
 to me that argument which you have so strenuously 
 attacked. I was walking in the cloisters of the Jesuits' 
 College of La Fleche (France), a town in which I passed 
 two years of my youth, and engaged in a conversation 
 with a Jesuit, of some parts and learning, who was relating 
 to me, and urging some nonsensical miracle performed 
 lately in their convent, when I was tempted to dispute 
 against him ; and as my head was full of the topics of my 
 Treatise of Human Nature, which I was at that time 
 composing, this argument immediately occurred to me, 
 and I thought it very much gravelled my companion ; but 
 at last he observed to me that it was impossible for that 
 argument to have any solidity, because it operated equally 
 against the Gospel as the Catholic miracles, which observa- 
 tion I thought proper to admit as a sufficient answer. I 
 believe you will allow that the freedom at least of this 
 reasoning makes it somewhat extraordinary to have been 
 the produce of a convent of Jesuits, though, perhaps, you 
 may think the sophistry of it savours plainly of the place 
 of its birth' (Burton's Life, I., 57). The origin of the 
 suggestion was the superstitious spirit leading to un- 
 questioning acceptance of trifling wonders, not a deliberate 
 study of the Gospel miracles or even of the laws of 
 evidence. 
 
 The argument involves a return on individual experience 
 as the basis of certainty, as that may affect our reliance 
 on the testimony of eye-witnesses. The enquiry affects 
 the value of our Christian faith as it relies on historic 
 
DAVID HUME 95 
 
 evidence. The substance of this argument is thus stated 
 by Hume — ' Our evidence for the truth of the Christian 
 religion is less than the evidence for the truth of our 
 senses ; because even in the first authors of our religion 
 it was no greater; and it is evident it must diminish in 
 passing from them to their disciples ; nor can anyone rest 
 such confidence in their testimony as in the immediate 
 object of his senses.' Yet, it is ' necessary to human life 
 to rely on the testimony of men,' though it must be 
 granted thaK testimony may vary in value, sometimes 
 suggesting probability, at others supplying proof. If, 
 however, the reported event is ' extraordinary,' ' the 
 testimony admits of a diminution, greater or less, in 
 proportion as the fact is more or less unusual.' When 
 the event 'has seldom fallen under observation, here 
 is a contest of two opposite experiences, of which the 
 one destroys the other, as far as its force goes.' Suppose 
 the reported event be ' miraculous,' and ' suppose also 
 that the testimony, considered apart and in itself, amounts 
 to an entire proof, there is proof against proof, of which 
 the strongest must prevail.' ' A miracle is a violation of 
 the laws of nature; and as a firm and unalterable ex- 
 perience has established these laws, the proof against 
 a miracle, from the very nature of the fact, is as entire as 
 any argument from experience can possibly be imagined.' 
 - ' Nothing is esteemed a miracle if it ever happen in the 
 copimon course of nature.' ' There must therefore be an 
 uniform experience against every miraculous event.' ' The 
 plain consequence is (and it is a general maxim worthy of 
 our attention) that no testimony is sufficient to establish a 
 miracle, unless the testimony be of such a kind that its 
 
96 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which 
 it endeavours to establish.' 
 
 Hume was peculiarly Uable to be attracted by an 
 argument such as this. Its fascination was great to a 
 mind which had schooled itself in sceptical criticism. 
 Such an argument was to him like a nugget to a gold- 
 digger — a thing to boast of to all around. Hear his 
 words : — ' I flatter myself that I have discovered an 
 argument which, if just, will, with the wise and learned, 
 be an everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious 
 delusion, and consequently wiU be useful as long as the 
 world endures.' 
 
 In one aspect, the argument is a freak of ingenuity ; in 
 another and secondary aspect, it is a substantial contribu- 
 tion towards the modern view of uniform sequence under 
 natural law. But the philosopher delights in the freak — 
 he is fascinated by 'th& freedom, at least, of the reasoning,' 
 even if it contain a considerable admixture of ' sophistry.' 
 It is the misfortune of the sceptic that, being engrossed 
 with criticism of other people's faith, he does not suffi- 
 ciently criticise his own. Hume, powerful as he was, 
 could not escape the consequences of a long cultivated 
 habit of enlarged faith. A miracle cannot be directly 
 vivified by us. Nothing is more certain ; but so it is with 
 all facts of history, from the most common to the most 
 singular. Any argument on this account is not an 
 argument agrinst miracles, but against faith in the past. 
 The historian saws through the bench on which he sits. 
 
 In dealing with laws of evidence, in insisting on the 
 sifting of testimony, and on the special difficulty of ascer- 
 taining what is reliable in the records concerning events in 
 
DAVID HUME 97 
 
 distant ages, Hume's Essay is at once able and of practical 
 value ; but abstract reasoning to prove the impossibility 
 of occurrences we have never witnessed, or impossibility 
 of evidence to prove that such things have occurred, is 
 vain on the conditions of experience itself. 
 
 But we must note the range of Hume's reasoning. 
 His Essay is not an argument against the possibility 
 of miracles. The thinker who insisted that certainty 
 depends on individual experience could not have con- 
 structed such an argument. He had supplied the weapon 
 to cut all such arguments in two. He is naturally 
 solicitous, therefore, that the rigid limits of his 'free 
 reasoning ' should be observed. ' I beg the limitations 
 here made may be remarked when I say, that a miracle 
 can never be proved so as to be the foundation of a 
 system of religion. For I own that, otherwise, there may 
 possibly be miracles.' Hume never committed himself to 
 the proposition that no miracle has happened ; still less to 
 the proposition that such an event could not occur. The 
 possibility of an event depends on power and will, not on 
 testimony, which can be only subsequent to the event. 
 
 What then of Hume's denial of the possibility of evi- 
 dence to warrant belief in a miracle ? Granting * uniform 
 experience ' as to fixed laws in nature, what bearing has 
 this on evidence for miracles ? By miracles we certainly 
 mean events distinct from the common occurrences 
 explained by natural law. ' Nothing is esteemed a 
 miracle if it ever happen in the common course of nature.' 
 But if we admit that they are distinct events, Hume's 
 definition needs to be rectified, and his appeal to ex- 
 perience as to ' the common course of nature ' can be of 
 
 6 
 
98 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 no avail. What is meant by a miracle is not ' a violation 
 of the laws of nature,' nor is it ' a transgression of a law of 
 nature by a particular volition of the Deity,' .but 'a 
 particular volition of the Deity,' for other ends than those 
 secured ' in the common course of nature,' such as moral 
 ends, which are not secured by fixed laws of nature, but 
 depend on man's reason and volition, as these may be 
 influenced by Revelation. But when ' violation of the 
 laws of nature ' is withdrawn from the definition, the point 
 of the argument is lost, and a basis is found for Hume's 
 admission that 'there may possibly be miracles.' 'A 
 particular volition of the Deity ' for a moral end implies 
 the action of supernatural power. 
 
 As to the evidence for such intervention in human 
 history, our uniform experience of the common course 
 of nature can supply nothing of testimony and no ground 
 for criticism. To represent human experience as wit- 
 nessing to ' the common course of nature ' is sound 
 science and is good philosophy, but to say that human 
 experience has borne witness to nothing more is to beg 
 the question in dispute, and to suggest that moral govern- 
 ment has no place in the history of the universe. Granting 
 that ' firm and unalterable experience has established 
 these laws,' such experience can bear no testimony as to 
 possibilities or impossibilities beyond. 
 
 Hume's attempt here to lift religion out of the sphere 
 of reason proved a failure. It was, indeed, at variance 
 with his deeper instinct. The whole discussion as to 
 proof and probability, keenly sustained on both sides, 
 witnesses to the impossibility of religion being limited to 
 faith. Hume's purpose, honest and earnest, to put ' an 
 
DAVID HUME 99 
 
 everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion,' \ 
 was one which could not have been served even by I 
 making good the position that the unbroken testimony 
 of common experience makes evidence for a miracle 
 impossible. To separate faith from understanding is to/ 
 open wide the door to superstition. It may be described/ 
 in his own language as a vain endeavour after ' subduing 
 the rebellious reason by the belief of the most unin- 
 telligible sophisms ' (Natural History of Religion, sec. 
 X.). But his contention is interpreted aright only 
 as we acknowledge his avowal that ' there may 
 possibly be miracles,' while he at the same time 
 holds that these cannot afford testimony for ' a system 
 of religion.' The spirit of his argument is shewn in 
 his own estimate of its worth. ' I am the better pleased 
 with the method of reasoning here delivered, as I think it 
 may serve to confound those dangerous friends, or dis- 
 guised enemies to the Christian religion, wb6 have 
 undertaken to defend it by the principles di human 
 reason. Our most holy religion is founded on Faith, 
 not on Reason of miracles.' This Essay shews insight 
 as to the uniformity of nature in considerable advance 
 of his time, but it shews for him a singular failure in the 
 exercise of his critical power. In passing to the Natural 
 History of Religion, which first appeared in 1777, it 
 becomes apparent how much Hume occupied himself 
 with the problems of religion. Here also we have fuller 
 indication of his personal faith, and at so many points as 
 to remove all uncertainty as to his attitude. ' The whole 
 frame of nature bespeaks an Intelligent Author, and no 
 rational enquirer can, after serious reflection, suspend his 
 
loo FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 belief a moment with regard to the primary principles of 
 a genuine Theism and Religion ' {Intro.). 
 
 This avowal at the outset, recognising that religion has 
 'its foundation in reason,' is the more important as his 
 Treatise is occupied mainly with the inconsistencies, 
 superstitions, and immoralities appearing under the name 
 of religion. Here also Hume is the critic, exercising 
 ' freedom of reasoning ' in handling the beliefs and sacred 
 rites of ' popular religions,' ' for the most part poly- 
 theistic' He is content to go back to the Christian era, 
 where he finds the whole world given to idolatry. Looking 
 around on the varied aspects of popular religion, he 
 proceeds to consider how religious principles may be 
 easily perverted by various accidents and causes. His 
 purpose in this work is to consider ' what those principles 
 are which give rise to the original belief, and what those 
 accidents and causes are which direct its operation.' 
 
 ' The only point of theology in which we shall find a 
 consent of mankind almost universal is that there is in- 
 visible intelligent power in the world ' (sec. iv.). ' Never- 
 theless, the doctrine of one Supreme Deity, the author of 
 nature, is very ancient, has spread itself over great and 
 populous nations, and among them has been embraced 
 by all ranks and conditions of men ' (sec. vi.). We 
 therefore admit that there are ' invincible reasons on 
 which it is undoubtedly founded.' ' But it is chiefly our 
 present business to consider the gross polytheism of the 
 vulgar, and to trace all its various appearances, in the 
 principles of human nature, whence they are derived' 
 (sec. v.). In carrying through this enquiry he has much 
 to say as to the superstition and the fanaticism which have 
 
DAVID HUME loi 
 
 appeared in the natural history of religion, and here he 
 often indulges in~~the ftB'e criticism which appeared in the 
 History of England, and called forth the adverse criticism 
 of the friends of evangelical religion. But the Treatise is 
 a vigorous treatment of the subject, shewing extended 
 research, specially directed upon classical authors, dis- 
 covering prominent features in the mythology of the 
 ancient Greeks and Romans, while including frequent 
 references to the religious rites prevailing among uncivil- 
 ised tribes in all ages. In all this he deals carefully with 
 a vast mass of evidence essential to the discussion. We 
 cannot attempt even a summary of the extended investi- 
 gation. It includes much that is of the utmost value as 
 to the history of the unfolding of religious ideas and the 
 institution and continuance of religious rites. With all 
 this outcome of research under review, he remarks that 
 ' there is not wanting a sufficient stock of religious zeal 
 and faith among mankind.' ' Look out for a people \ 
 entirely destitute of religion : if you find them at all, be 1 
 assured that they are but few degrees removed from brutes.'/ 
 But corruptions naturally appear in the fancies, traditions, 
 and religious observances of men. ' Men have a natural 
 tendency to rise from idolatry to theism, and to sink again 
 from theism into idolatry.' ' The corruptions of the best 
 things give rise to the worst.' On the other hand, theism 
 is sustained by the reflection of the most thoughtful. 
 ' Where theism forms the fundamental principle of any 
 popular rehgion, that tenet is so conformable to sound 
 reason that philosophy is apt to incorporate itself with 
 such a system of theology '(sec. xi.). Our speculative 
 thought as to the first cause — the supreme intelligence 
 
102 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 — is of the first moment to the individual thinker and 
 to our race as a whole. ' What a noble privilege it is of 
 human reason to attain the Knowledge of the Supreme 
 Being, and from the visible works of nature be enabled to 
 infer so sublime a principle as its supreme Creator ' (sec. 
 XV.). But when we ' examine the religious principles 
 which have, in fact, prevailed,' many of them are to be 
 discredited as ' sick men's dreams,' rather than respected 
 as ' the serious, positive, dogmatical asseverations of a 
 being who dignifies himself with the name of rational ' 
 {lb.). When we look at the vast problem as it stands 
 before us in history, ' the whole is a riddle, an enigma, 
 an inexplicable mystery ' {3). But faith remains unmoved. 
 ' The universal propensity to believe in invisible intelligent 
 power, if not an original instinct, being at least a general 
 attendant of human nature, may be considered as a kind 
 of mark or stamp which the divine workman has set upon 
 his work ; and nothing surely can more dignify mankind 
 than to be selected from all parts of creation, and to bear 
 the image or impression of the universal Creator ' {li.). 
 
 These extracts shew how clearly Hume maintained his 
 conviction of the inherent value of religion, even when 
 tracing the inconsistencies which appear in its history 
 i among the several nations and tribes of men. His mental 
 characteristics, intellectual and emotional, induced him 
 to treat scornfully of these inconsistencies, as if they were 
 traces of hypocrisy. This tendency appeared so offensively 
 in the first volume of his History of England as to subject 
 him to severe criticism. He owned its force, and modified 
 several passages. Burton gives besides a paper designed 
 for a preface to his second volume, which was afterwards 
 
DAVID HUME 103 
 
 modified and transferred to the position of a note. The 
 opening sentences of this Preface are of special interest 
 here. ' It ought to be no matter of offence that in this 
 volume, as well as in the foregoing, the mischiefs which 
 arise from the abuses of religion are so often mentioned, 
 while so little in comparison is said of the salutary 
 consequences which result from true and genuine piety. 
 The proper office of religion is to reform men's lives, to 
 purify their hearts, to enforce all moral duties, and to 
 secure obedience to the laws and civil magistrate. While 
 it pursues these useful purposes its operations, though 
 infinitely valuable, are secret and silent, and seldom come 
 under the cognisance of history ' (Burton, II., 11). 
 
 From the Natural History of Religion Hume passed 
 on to the study of the rational basis of Natural Theology, 
 which he prosecuted in the critical spirit characteristic of 
 him. For the long period of twenty-five years the subject 
 was kept before him. When the results appeared after 
 his death the publication was a small volume of 1 5 2 pages. 
 It is a work of great value, presenting a searching scrutiny 
 of the conditions under which we seek to think out the 
 relations of the universe to the invisible intelligence, the 
 first cause. The volume bears evidence of care in thought i 
 and expression, and anxious revision. It assigns to critical j 
 and sceptical thought its utmost scope, and alongside of 
 this presents ' the invincible reasons ' on which natural 
 theology is founded. To the reader who dips into it, 
 turning its pages with a light hand, it will seem in its 
 main contents a sceptical book ; to the critical student 
 it will appear a book of great constructive worth, while it 
 hides nothing of the difficulties of our speculative thought. 
 
104 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 The history of the manuscript volume is of exceptional 
 interest. It is clear from a letter to Elliot, written from 
 Ninewells, dated March lo, 1751, that the first draft was 
 written then, and was submitted for Elliot's criticism. 
 Hume's death occurred in 1776, and the Z>ialogues v/ere 
 not published till fully two years after that event. The 
 manuscript in possession of the Royal Society of Edin- 
 burgh shews many emendations and corrections, making 
 it certain that the author worked over those pages with 
 anxious solicitude, and that in its published form we have 
 the statement of his matured thought, as well as the results 
 of his best literary effort. From his literary friends he 
 sought suggestions in the freest spirit ; and we know that 
 Elliot, Adam Smith, Blair, and others were intimately 
 acquainted with the contents. So early as the date named, 
 Elliot had ' a sample ' of the Dialogue, in which Philo is 
 the Sceptic, Cleanthes the Philosophic believer, Demea 
 the rigidly orthodox or quiescent believer, who distrusts 
 speculation. To Elliot he says, — ' I make Cleanthes the 
 hero of the dialogue; whatever you can think of, to 
 strengthen that side of the argument, will be most accept- 
 able to me. Any propensity you imagine I have to the 
 other side crept in upon me against my will ' (Burton, I., 
 331). At the same time he tells how, before he was 
 twenty, ' doubts stole in upon him,' involving him in ' a 
 perpetual struggle of a restless imagination against inclina- 
 tion, perhaps against reason.' The Dialogues present 
 his effort to clear the way through inevitable doubts. 
 His own estimate of the result he indicates in this 
 letter to Elliot, — 'The instances I have chosen for 
 Cleanthes are, I hope, tolerably happy, and the con- 
 
DAVID HUME 105 
 
 fusion in which I represent the sceptic seems natural' 
 
 (I-. 333)- 
 
 As the close of life approached, Hume felt great solici- 
 tude about the publication of these Dialogues. This feel- 
 ing was increased by the desire expressed by some of his 
 most intimate literary friends that he should withhold the 
 book. He was willing that it should not be published till 
 after his death, but he took pains to secure that it should 
 appear ' within two years ' thereafter. The delay indicated 
 his aversion to encounter the storm likely to be raised by 
 their appearance; his fixed determination that it should 
 appear within a defined period testifies to his conviction 
 that an important service was to be rendered to the cause 
 of religion by unreserved critical handling of the difficulties 
 which beset our attempts to apply the Theistic conception 
 in the midst of finite relations. 
 
 On the 4th of January 1776, he executed a settlement 
 of his estate, leaving his money to his brother, sister, and 
 younger relatives, ;£'2oo to D'Alembert; the same to Adam 
 Ferguson, and the same to Adam Smith, under special 
 proviso. ' To my friend Dr Adam Smith, late Professor 
 of Moral Philosophy in Glasgow, I leave all my manu- 
 scripts without exception, desiring him to publish my 
 Dialogues on Natural Religion which are comprehended 
 in this present bequest. ... I even leave him full power 
 over all my papers, except the Dialogues above men- 
 tioned; and though I can trust to that intimate and 
 sincere friendship which has ever subsisted between us 
 for his faithful execution of this part of my Will, yet, 
 as a small recompense of his pain in correcting and 
 publishing this work, I leave him two hundred pounds, 
 
io6 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 to be paid immediately after the publication of it ' (Burton, 
 II., 490). 
 
 Hume explained to Adam Smith his desire that he 
 should superintend the publication of the Dialogues. 
 Smith declined the responsibility, being averse to the 
 publication, as likely to increase the popular clamour 
 against him. On this, Hume writes to his friend on 3rd 
 May 1776, three months before his death: — 'My dear 
 Friend, ... I own that your scruples have a specious 
 appearance. But my opinion is, that if upon my death 
 you determine never to publish these papers, you should 
 leave them, sealed up, with my brother and family, with 
 some inscription that you reserve to yourself the power of 
 reclaiming them whenever you think proper. If I live a 
 few years longer, I shall publish them myself (Burton, 
 II., 492). In an accompanying letter Hume adds — 'I 
 am content to leave it entirely to your discretion at what 
 time you will publish that piece, or whether you will 
 publish it at all.' 
 
 Afterwards he added a codicil, retracting the previous 
 provision, and substituting the following : — ' I leave my 
 manuscripts to the care of Mr William Strahan of London, 
 Member of Parliament, trusting to the friendship that 
 has long subsisted between us for his careful and faithful 
 execution of my intentions. I desire that my Dialogues 
 Concerning Natural Religion may be printed and pub- 
 lished any time within two years after my death.' 
 
 Still later, it is added — ' I do ordain that if my Dia- 
 logues, from whatever cause, be not published within two 
 years and a half of my death, as also the account of my 
 life, the property shall return to my nephew, David, whose 
 
DAVID HUME 107 
 
 duty in publishing them, as the last request of his uncle, 
 must be approved of by all the world ' (Burton, II., 494). 
 
 Strahan also declined the responsibility, and the Dia- 
 logues were eventually published by the author's nephew, 
 David, in 1779, and without name of pubHsher or printer. 
 Fortunately for the literature of our country, the author 
 persisted in his determination. Now that the prejudices 
 against him have in considerable measure passed away, we 
 can admit that his perplexities may be helpful to us who 
 follow. Faith succeeds doubt, while preparing the way for 
 better thought. A true service is rendered in the history 
 of intellectual and religious development when the com- 
 mon difficulties of our position in the universe are stated 
 with clearness and force. Pioneers, after enduring untold 
 hardships, may have the gratitude of the people. On the 
 voyage of life there is gain in sounding all depths. 
 
 In the title of his work Hume uses the term ' Religion ' 
 rather than ' Theology.' This usage applies the same 
 term to the practical experience and the speculative exer- 
 cise. Some confusion is apt to arise in this way, for it is 
 admitted that religion, as a characteristic of human life, 
 may flourish apart from direct and intimate concern with 
 the perplexities of thought, from which theology cannot 
 escape. 
 
 Hume's reasons for adopting the form of dialogue have 
 obvious force in view of the nature of the subject and the 
 end he sought. His purpose was to present in their utmost 
 strength the difficulties encountered in thinking of the 
 relations of God to the universe, and to shew religious faith 
 at its best in the sphere of intelligence. The certainty of 
 the Divine existence being admitted, the object is to dis- 
 
io8 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 cuss ' what obscure questions occur concerning the nature 
 of that Divine being, his attributes, his decrees, and his 
 plan of providence ' (p. 3). 
 
 For understanding of the discussion it is needful to keep 
 in view the attitude and special bias of the speakers. 
 Philo is the pronounced sceptic who dwells on the weak- 
 ness and blindness of our intelligence, and delights in 
 doubts as if they constituted the current coin of the realm. 
 Cleanthes is the philosophic thinker, ready to examine 
 every doubt presented, and relying on regulated methodi- 
 cal thought for attainment of a vision of truth in harmony 
 with our fundamental faith in the Divine existence and 
 government. Demea is the quiet believer in God and his 
 goodness, content to trust, willing to treat obscure ques- 
 tions of speculative thought as things too high for us 
 belonging to an unknown territory into which the ordinary 
 believer does not travel. Philo and Demea are at the 
 opposite extremes, but occasionally in close agreement, 
 because of their readiness to think lightly of human 
 intelligence. Cleanthes is the philosophic thinker, de- 
 liberate, patient, and strong, ' the hero of the Dialogue.' 
 ' The remarkable contrast in their characters ' gives interest 
 to the discussion, and makes it possible for the author to 
 give a breadth of representation of the varied tendencies 
 and habits of thought subsisting in society. 
 
 Part I 
 
 Demea. Natural theology being the most abstruse of all 
 sciences, needs a mind enriched with all the other sciences, 
 and may be postponed while the opening intelligence is 
 ' seasoned with early piety.' 
 
DAVID HUME 109 
 
 Philo. To season the mind thus is reasonable as a 
 defence against an irreUgious spirit, but the danger is that 
 of ' inspiring pride and self sufficiency ' to guard against 
 which evils we must ' become thoroughly sensible of the 
 weakness, blindness, and narrow limits of human reason.' 
 Having such poor intelligence, ' with what assurance can 
 we decide concerning the origin of worlds, or trace their 
 history from eternity to eternity ? ' 
 
 Cleanthes. ' You propose then to erect religious faith or 
 philosophical scepticism.' But this is a foundation weaker 
 than reason, and which the common intelligence, weak as 
 it is, readily rejects, because of its obvious inconsistency ; 
 for ' though a man, in a flush of humour, may entirely 
 renounce all belief and opinion, it is impossible for him to 
 persevere in it, or make it appear in his conduct for a few 
 hours.' 
 
 Fh. ' However sceptical anyone may be, I own he 
 must act and live, and converse like other men ; and for 
 this conduct he is not obliged to give any other reason 
 than the absolute necessity he lies under of so doing.' But 
 there is a fascination in speculative thought ; ' everyone, 
 even in common life, is constrained to have more or less 
 of this philosophy,' ' and what we call philosophy is 
 nothing but a more regular and methodical operation of 
 the same kind.' But ' when we look beyond human 
 affairs,' and carry our speculations forward to consider ' the 
 powers of operations of one universal Spirit,' ' we have 
 here got beyond the reach of our faculties,' 'and are entirely 
 guided by a kind of instinct or necessity in employing them.' 
 
 C/. But 'your doctrine and practice are as much at 
 variance in the most abstruse points of theory as in the 
 
no FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 conduct of common life.' 'There is, indeed, a kind of 
 bratish and ignorant scepticism ' which ' is fatal to know- 
 ledge, not to religion.' ' But the refined and philosophic 
 sceptics fall into an inconsistence of an opposite nature. 
 They push their researches into the most abstruse corners 
 of science, and their assent attends them in every step, 
 proportioned to the evidence with which they meet.' 
 
 Ph. Taking together ' the history of the religious and 
 the irreligious scepticism,' ' it appears to me that there are 
 strong symptoms of priestcraft in the progress of this affair.' 
 These reverend gentlemen are ' sceptics in one age, dog- 
 matists in another,' as ' best suits their purpose.' 
 
 CI. ' We need not have recourse to priestcraft ' to 
 account for the history of events. ' Nothing can afford a 
 stronger presumption that any set of principles are true, 
 than to observe that they tend to the confirmation of true 
 religion, and serve to confound the free-thinkers.' 
 
 Such in outline is the opening Dialogue. Interest con- 
 centrates on the antagonistic reasoning of the Sceptic and 
 the Philosopher. To their several parts we shall restrict 
 this summary. 
 
 Part II. — Does limited knowledge involve uncertainty 
 in Analogies ? 
 
 Fh. 'Where reasonable men treat these subjects, the 
 question can never be concerning the deing, but only the 
 nature of the Deity.' The former truth is unquestionable 
 and self evident. ' But our ideas reach no further than 
 our experience ; and we have no experience of Divine 
 attributes and operations.' 
 
 CI. ' The curious adapting of means to ends through- 
 
DAVID HUME iii 
 
 out all nature resembles exactly, though it much exceeds, 
 the productions of human contrivance, of human design, 
 thought, wisdom, and intelligence.' 
 
 Ph. ' Wherever you depart in the least from the simi- 
 larity of the cases, you diminish proportionably the evi- 
 dence ; and may at last bring it to a very weak analogy, 
 which is confessedly liable to error and uncertainty.' 
 
 C/. ' Is the whole adjustment of means to ends in a 
 house and in the universe so slight a resemblance ? The 
 economy of final causes ? The order, proportion, and 
 arrangement of every part ? ' 
 
 Ph. ' I must allow that this fairly represents the argu- 
 ment ' from observation and experience. But ' experience 
 alone can point out the true cause of any phenomenon.' 
 ' Order, arrangement, or the adjustment of final causes is 
 no proof of design, except in so far as it has been ex- 
 perienced to proceed from that principle.' But I am 
 'scandalised with this resemblance which is asserted between 
 the Deity and human creatures, which I conceive implies 
 a degradation of the Supreme Being.' • I prefer to agree 
 with the orthodox in defending what is justly called ' the 
 adorable mysteriousness of the Divine Nature.' ' Thought, 
 design, intelligence, such as we discover in men and 
 other animals is no more than one of the springs and 
 principles of the universe, as well as heat or cold, attrac- 
 tion or repulsion.' ' Why select so minute, so weak, so 
 bounded a principle as the reason and design of animals ? 
 What peculiar privilege has this little agitation of the brain 
 which we call thought, that we must thus make it the 
 model of the whole universe.' 
 
 C/. Let me suggest that you do not ' abuse terms.' 
 
112 
 
 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 We ' distinguish reason from experience, even where the 
 question relates only to matter of fact and existence.' ' To 
 prove by experience the origin of the universe from mind 
 is not more contrary to common speech than to prove the 
 motion of the earth from the same principle.' 
 
 Ph. In the 'cautious procedure' of observational science 
 is to be found the condemnation of rash speculation 
 in Natural Theology. 'The subject in which you are 
 engaged exceeds all human reason and enquiry.' ' Have 
 you ever seen Nature in any such situation as resembles 
 the first arrangement of the elements ? ' 
 
 Part III. — Conditions of reasoning from Experience 
 to that which transcends it. 
 
 CI. ' It is by no means necessary that Theists should 
 prove the similarity of the works of Nature to those of 
 art, because this similarity is self-evident and undeniable.' 
 'Suppose that there is a natural, universal, invariable 
 language, common to every individual of human race, 
 and that books are natural productions, which perpetuate 
 themselves in the same manner with animals and vegetables. 
 Suppose that you enter into your library, thus peopled by 
 natural volumes, containing the most refined reason and 
 most exquisite beauty, could you possibly open one of 
 them and doubt that its original cause bore the strongest 
 analogy to mind and intelligence ? ' ' Any objection 
 which you start by carrying me back to so unusual and 
 extraordinary a scene as the first formation of worlds, the 
 same objection has place on the supposition of our vege- 
 tating library.' ' To exclude all argument or reasoning of 
 every kind is either affectation or madness.' 
 
DAVID HUME 113 
 
 Ph. 'Your instance drawn from books and language, 
 being familiar, has, I confess, so much more force on that 
 account ; but is there not some danger too in this very 
 circumstance ? ' ' When I read a volume, I enter into the 
 mind and intention of the author; I become him, in a 
 manner, for the instant. . . . But so near an approach we 
 never surely can make to the Deity. His ways are not 
 our ways. His attributes are perfect, but incomprehen- 
 sible. And this volume of Nature contains a great and 
 inexplicable riddle, more than any intelligible discourse or 
 reasoning.' ' Our thought is fluctuating, uncertain, fleeting, 
 successive, and compounded ; and were we to remove these 
 circumstances, we absolutely annihilate its essence, and it 
 would, in such a case, be an abuse of terms to apply to it 
 the name of thought or reason. At least, if it appear more 
 pious and respectful (as it really is) still to retain these 
 terms when we mention the Supreme Being, we ought to 
 acknowledge that their meaning in that case is totally in- 
 comprehensible ; and that the infirmities of our nature do 
 not permit us to reach any ideas which in the least corre- 
 spond to the ineffable sublimity of the Divine attributes.' 
 
 Part IV. — Can phases of the human mind be attributed 
 to the Divine Intelligence ? 
 
 CI. 'The Deity, I can readily allow, possesses many 
 powers and attributes, of which we can have no com- 
 prehension. But if our ideas, so far as they go, be not 
 just and adequate, I know not what there is in this subject 
 worth insisting on.'' . . . 'Though it be allowed that the 
 Deity possesses attributes of which we have no compre- 
 hension, yet ought we never to ascribe to Him any 
 
 u 
 
114 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 attributes which are absolutely incompatible with that 
 intelligent nature essential to Him.' 
 
 Ph. ' I shall endeavour to shew you the inconveniences 
 of that Anthropomorphism (Theology founded on human 
 characteristics) which you have embraced ; and shall prove 
 that there is no ground to suppose a plan of the world to 
 be formed in the Divine mind, consisting of distinct ideas 
 differently arranged, in the same manner as an architect 
 forms in his head the plan of a house which he intends to 
 execute.' Suppose we judge of the matter by Reason : — 
 ' a mental world, or universe of ideas, requires a cause as 
 much as does a material world, or universe of objects ; and 
 if similar in its arrangement, must require a similar cause.' 
 We are still obliged to mount higher in order to find the 
 cause of this cause, if we take the world of ideas to be the 
 cause of the world of objects. Suppose we judge of the 
 matter by Experience ; — ' How shall we satisfy ourselves 
 concerning the cause of the ideal world into which you 
 trace the material ? ' ' When you go one step beyond the 
 mundane system, you only excite an inquisitive humour, 
 which it is impossible ever to satisfy.' ' To say that the 
 different ideas, which compose the reason of the Supreme 
 Being, fall into order of themselves, and by their own nature, 
 is really to talk without any precise meaning.' ' No satis- 
 faction can ever be attained by these speculations, which 
 so far exceed the narrow bounds of human understanding.' 
 
 CI. ' The order and arrangement of Nature, the curious 
 adjustment of final causes, the plain use and intention oi 
 every part and organ ; all these bespeak in the clearest 
 language an intellectual cause or author.' ' I have found 
 
DAVID HUME 115 
 
 a Deity, and here I stop my enquiry. Let those go further 
 who are wiser or more enterprising.' 
 
 Ph. ' I pretend to be neither, and for that very reason 
 I should never perhaps have attempted to go so far, 
 especially when I am sensible that I must at last be 
 contented to sit down with the same answer.' 
 
 Part V. — ' Like effects prove Uke causes.' — How far is 
 the maxim applicable ? 
 
 Ph. ' Please to take a new survey of your principles. 
 Like effects prove like causes. This is the experimental 
 argument ; and this, you say too, is the sole theological 
 argument. Now it is certain that the liker the effects 
 are which are seen, and the liker the causes which 
 are inferred, the stronger is the argument. Every 
 departure on either side diminishes the probability, 
 and renders the experiment less conclusive.' Now, 
 ' by this method of reasoning you renounce all claim 
 to infinity in any of the attributes of the Deity,' and 
 there is left no reason 'for ascribing perfection to the 
 Deity.' On your hypothesis 'a man is able, perhaps, to 
 assert or conjecture that the Universe, sometime, arose 
 from something like design; but beyond that position 
 he cannot ascertain one single circumstance.' 
 
 CI. ' These suppositions I absolutely disown : they 
 strike me, however, with no horror. On the contrary 
 they give me pleasure, when I see that, by the utmost 
 indulgence of your imagination, you never get rid of the 
 hypothesis of design in the Universe, but are obliged at 
 every turn to have recourse to it. To this concession I 
 
ii6 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 steadily adhere ; and this I regard as a sufficient foundation 
 for religion.' 
 
 Part VI. — Can we reason from the known to the 
 unknown ? 
 
 Ph. ' There is another principle ' derived from experi- 
 ence, ' that where several known circumstances are observed 
 to be similar, the unknown will also be similar. Thus, if 
 we see the limbs of a human body, we conclude that it is 
 also attended with a human head, though hid from us.' 
 ' Now if we survey the universe, so far as it falls under our 
 knowledge, it bears a great resemblance to an animal or 
 organised body, and seems actuated with a like principle 
 of life and motion.' ' The world, therefore, I infer, is an 
 animal,' and, according to the hypothesis of the ancients, 
 ' the Deity is the soul of the world actuating it, and actu- 
 ated by it.' ' If our limited analogy could ever with any 
 propriety be extended to the whole of Nature, the infer- 
 ence seems juster in favour of the ancient than the 
 modern theory.' 
 
 CI. ' This theory, I own, has never before occurred to 
 me, though a pretty natural one, and I cannot readily 
 upon so short an examination and reflection deliver any 
 opinion with regard to it. It seems to me the analogy is 
 defective in many circumstances the most material — no 
 organs of sense, no seat of thought or reason, no one 
 precise origin of motion and action.' Besides, ' human 
 society is in continual revolution between ignorance and 
 knowledge, liberty and slavery, riches and poverty, so that 
 it is impossible for us, from our limited experience, to 
 
DAVID HUME X17 
 
 foretell with assurance what events may or may not be 
 expected.' 
 
 Ph. ' It is observable that all the changes and cor- 
 ruptions of which we have ever had experience are but 
 passages from one state of order to another, nor can 
 matter ever rest in total deformity and confusion. What 
 we see in the parts, we may infer in the whole; at least 
 that is the method of reasoning on which you rest your 
 whole theory. And were I obliged to defend any par- 
 ticular systern of this nature (which I never willingly 
 should do) I esteem none more plausible than that which 
 ascribes an eternal inherent principle of order in the world, 
 though attended with great and continual revolutions and 
 alterations. This at once solves all difficulties, and if the 
 solution, by being so general, is not entirely complete and 
 satisfactory, it is, at least, a theory that we must sooner or 
 later have recourse to, whatever system we embrace.' 
 
 Part VII. — Shall we think of the Universe as Organism 
 or as Mechanism ? 
 
 7%. ' If the Universe bears a greater likeness to animal 
 bodies and to vegetables than to the works of human art, 
 its origin ought rather to be ascribed to generation or 
 vegetation than to reason or design.' If we must rely on 
 experience alone, this seems a legitimate hypothesis, but 
 ' we have no data to establish any system of cosmogony. 
 Our experience, so imperfect in itself, and so limited both 
 in extent and duration, can afford us no probable con- 
 jecture concerning the whole of things.' And organism 
 'bears stronger resemblance to the world than does any 
 artificial machine.' We may refer to reason, instinct, 
 
ii8 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 generation, or vegetation, but 'the principles themselves 
 and their manner of operation are totally unknown.' 
 
 CI. 'I must confess, Philo, that the task which you 
 have undertaken of raising doubts and objections suits 
 you best, and seems in a manner natural and unavoidable 
 to you. So great is your fertility of invention that I am 
 not ashamed to acknowledge myself unable on a sudden 
 to solve regularly such out-of-the-way difificulties as you 
 incessantly start upon me, though I clearly see in general 
 their fallacy and error. And I question not but you are 
 yourself in the same case, and have not the solution so 
 ready as the objection, while you must be sensible that 
 common sense and reason are entirely against you.' 
 
 Part VIII. — How far our difficulties arise from the 
 transcendent greatness of the subject. 
 
 Ph. Because ' a hundred contradictory views may 
 preserve a kind of imperfect analogy,' ' invention has 
 full scope to exert itself.' ' Motion, in many instances, 
 from gravity, from elasticity, from electricity, begins in 
 matter, without any known voluntary agent, and to suppose 
 always in these cases an unknown voluntary agent is mere 
 hypothesis.' 
 
 CI. But the hypothesis of vegetation or involuntary 
 development is exposed to insuperable objections. ' No 
 form, you say, can subsist unless it possess those powers 
 and organs requisite for its subsistence ; some new order 
 or economy must be tried, and so on without intermission, 
 till at last some order which can support and maintain 
 itself is fallen upon. But according to this hypothesis. 
 
DAVID HUME 119 
 
 whence arise the many conveniences and advantages 
 which, men and all animals possess ? ' 
 
 Ph. ' You may safely infer that the hypothesis is so far 
 incomplete and imperfect, which I shall not scruple to 
 allow. But can we ever hope to erect a system of 
 cosmogony that will be liable to no exceptions ? ' It is 
 this which gives to scepticism the power it has. ' In 
 all instances which we have ever seen, ideas are copied 
 from real objects.' 'You reverse this order, and give 
 thought the precedence.' ;: 
 
 Part IX. — May we reason from finite existence to a 
 self-existent Being ? 
 
 Demea. ' Had we not better adhere to the simple and 
 sublime argument a priori V It is impossible for any- 
 thing to produce itself ; ' we must either go on in tracing 
 an infinite succession, without any ultimate cause at all, 
 or must at last have recourse to some ultimate cause that 
 is necessarily existent.' 
 
 CI. ' There is an evident absurdity in pretending to 
 demonstrate a matter of fact, or to prove it by any 
 arguments a priori! ' There is no being whose existence 
 is demonstrable. I propose this argument as entirely 
 decisive, and am willing to rest the whole controversy 
 upon it.' As to the existence of the Deity, it is said that 
 ' if we knew his whole essence or nature, we should 
 perceive it to be impossible for him not to exist. But it 
 is evident that this can never happen while our faculties 
 remain the same as at present.' 
 
 Ph. ' The argument a priori has seldom been found 
 very convincing, except to people of a metaphysical head, 
 
120 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 who have accustomed themselves to abstract reasoning. 
 . . . Other people, even of good sense, and the best 
 inclined to religion, feel always some deficiency in such 
 arguments, though they are not perhaps able to explain 
 distinctly where it lies.' 
 
 Part X. — The moral argument. 
 
 Demea. ' It is my opinion that each man feels, in a 
 manner, the truth of religion within his own breast, and 
 from a consciousness of his imbecility and misery is led to 
 seek protection from that Being.' 
 
 PA. ' I am indeed persuaded that the best and, indeed, 
 the only method of bringing everyone to a due sense of 
 religion is by just representations of the misery and wicked- 
 ness of men. ... In this point the learned are perfectly 
 agreed with the vulgar, and in all letters, sacred and 
 profane, the topic of human misery has been insisted 
 on with the most pathetic eloquence.' ' Disappointment, 
 vexation, trouble, follow man's activity and ambition.' 
 
 CI. ' I can observe something like what you mention in 
 some others, but I confess I feel little or nothing of it 
 myself, and hope that it is not so common as you represent 
 it.' 
 
 /%. ' Is it possible, after all these reflections, you can 
 still assert the moral attributes of the Deity, his justice, 
 benevolence, mercy and rectitude, — to be of the same 
 nature with these virtues in human creatures? His power, 
 we allow, is infinite ; whatever he wills is executed ; but 
 neither man nor any other animal are happy ; therefore 
 he does not will their happiness.' 
 
 CI ' If you can prove mankind to be unhappy or 
 
DAVID HUME 121 
 
 corrupted, there is an end at once of all religion. For to 
 what purpose establish the natural attributes of the Deity, 
 while the moral are still doubtful and uncertain 1 ' 
 
 Demea. 'Nothing can be more surprising than to 
 find a topic like this, concerning the wickedness and 
 misery of man, charged with no less than atheism and 
 profaneness.' 
 
 CI. ' These arbitrary suppositions as to wickedness and 
 misery can never be admitted.' ' The only method of 
 supporting Divine benevolence (and it is what I willingly 
 embrace) is to deny absolutely the misery and wickedness 
 of man. Your representations are exaggerated. . . . 
 Health is more common than sickness.' 
 
 Ph. ' You have put the controversy upon a most 
 dangerous issue, and are unawares introducing a total 
 scepticism into the most essential articles of natural and 
 revealed theology. What ! no method of fixing a just 
 foundation for religion, unless we allow the happiness of 
 human life.' ' By resting the whole system of religion on 
 such a point, which from its very nature must for ever 
 be uncertain, you tacitly confess that system is equally 
 uncertain.' 
 
 ' It is your turn now to tug the labouring oar, and to 
 support your philosophical subtleties against the dictates 
 of plain reason and experience.' 
 
 Part XI. — The problem of evil. 
 
 C/. ' If we abandon all human analogy, I am afraid we 
 abandon all religion, and retain no conception of the 
 great object of our adoration. If we preserve human 
 analogy, we must for ever find it impossible to reconcile 
 
122 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 any mixture of evil in the universe with infinite attributes. 
 But supposing the Author of Nature to be finitely perfect, 
 though far exceeding mankind, a satisfactory account may 
 then be given of natural and moral evil, and every unto- 
 ward phenomenon be explained and adjusted, a less evil 
 may be chosen, in order to avoid a greater. . . . Benevo- 
 lence, regulated by wisdom, and limited by necessity, may 
 produce such a world as the present.' 
 
 Ph. If a very limited intelligence were assured that the 
 universe, with which he was at the moment unacquainted, 
 was ' the production of a very good, wise, and powerful 
 being, however finite,' he could never fancy that the effect 
 could be so fuU of vice and misery and disorder as it 
 appears in this life. But such a limited intelligence must 
 be sensible of his own blindness and ignorance, and must 
 allow that there may be many solutions of those phenomena 
 which will for ever escape his comprehension. 
 
 There seem to be four circumstances on which depend 
 all, or the greatest part of the ills that molest sensible 
 creatures, and it is not impossible but all these circum- 
 stances may be necessary and unavoidable. First, ' pain, 
 as well as pleasure, is employed to excite all creatures to 
 action.' Second, ' the conducting of the world by general 
 laws.' Third, ' the great frugality with which all pqwers 
 and faculties are distributed.' Fourth, 'the inaccurate 
 workmanship of all the springs and principles of the great 
 machine of nature.' It would be too presumptuous for 
 creatures so blind and ignorant as we ' to say that these 
 circumstances are not necessary.' 
 
 ' Some ill must arise in the various shocks of matter ; ' 
 ' but this ill would be very rare, were it not for the third 
 
DAVID HUME 123 
 
 circumstance.' ' Almost all the moral, as well as 
 natural evils of human life, arise from idleness.' 'In 
 order to cure most of the ills of human life,' I do not ask 
 that man be endowed with greater powers, physical or 
 mental; but 'let him be endowed with a greater pro- 
 pensity to industry and labour ; a more vigorous spring 
 and activity of mind ; a more constant bent to business 
 and application,' with ' a more vigorous spring and activity 
 of mind,' ' the exact execution of every office and duty ' 
 would 'immediately follow.' 
 
 Cleanthes has admitted that our difficulties in dealing 
 with this problem of evil arise from the representation 
 of the Deity as infinite in all his attributes. If we take 
 the opposite course, ' supposing the Author of nature to 
 be finitely perfect,' this old ' Manichaean system * occurs 
 as a proper hypothesis to solve the difficulty; and no 
 doubt in some respects it is very specious, and has more 
 probability than the common hypothesis, by giving a 
 plausible account of the strange mixture of good and ill 
 which appears in life. But if we consider on the other 
 hand the perfect uniformity and agreement of the parts of 
 the universe, we shall not discover in it any marks of the 
 combat of a malevolent with a benevolent being.' 'So 
 long,' however, as there is one vice at all in the universe it 
 will very much puzzle you anthropomorphites — believers in 
 the likeness of Divine powers to human — how to account 
 for it. You must assign a cause for it, without having 
 recourse to the first cause, yet you must ' rest on that 
 
 * The reader will remember that J. S. Mill in like manner retreats 
 on the Manichean hypothesis for escape from the dark problem of 
 evil. 
 
124 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 original principle which is the ultimate cause of all 
 things.' 
 
 Demea. ' Hold ! Hold ! I joined in alliance with you, 
 in order to prove the incomprehensible nature of the 
 Divine Being, and refute the principles of him who would 
 measure everything by a human rule and standard.' 
 
 C/. The total infirmity of human reason, the absolute 
 incomprehensibility of the Divine nature, the great and 
 universal misery, and still greater wickedness of men, these 
 are strange topics surely to be so fondly cherished.' But 
 ' your friend Philo from the beginning has been amusing 
 himself at both our expense.' 
 
 Part XII. — Results of the discussion. 
 
 C/. 'Your spirit of controversy, joined to your abhor- 
 rence of vulgar superstition, carries you strange lengths 
 when engaged in an argument ; and there is nothing so 
 sacred or venerable, even in your own eyes, which you 
 spare on that occasion.' 
 
 J'A. ' I must confess that I am less cautious on the 
 subject of Natural Religion than on any other, both be- 
 cause I know that I can never on that head corrupt the 
 principles of any man of common sense, and because no 
 one, I am confident, in whose eyes I appear a man of 
 common sense, will ever mistake my intentions. . . . 
 Notwithstanding the freedom of my conversation, and 
 my love of singular arguments, no one has a deeper sense 
 of religion impressed on his mind, or pays more profound 
 adoration to the Divine Being, as he discovers himself to 
 reason, in the inexplicable contrivance and artifice of 
 Nature. . . . All the sciences almost lead us insensibly 
 
DAVID HUME 125 
 
 to acknowledge a first intelligent Author; and their 
 authority is often so much the greater, as they do not 
 directly profess their intention.' 
 
 CI. ' One great advantage of the principle of Theism is 
 that it is the only system of cosmogony which can be 
 rendered intelligible and complete, and yet can throughout 
 preserve a strong analogy to what we every day see and 
 experience in the world.' ' Whoever attempts to weaken 
 this theory,' can only ' by remote and abstract views of 
 things reach that suspense of judgment which is here the 
 utmost boundary of his wishes.' 
 
 P/i. ' So little do I esteem this suspense of judgment in 
 the present case to be possible, that I am apt to suspect 
 there enters somewhat of a dispute of words into this con- 
 troversy, more than is usually imagined. That the works 
 of Nature bear a great analogy to the productions of art 
 is evident, . . . but there are also considerable differences. 
 ... As the works of Nature have a much greater analogy 
 to the effects of our art and contrivance, than to those of 
 our benevolence and justice, we have reason to infer that 
 the natural attributes of the Deity have a greater resem- 
 blance to those of men than his moral have to human 
 virtues. But what is the consequence ? Nothing but 
 this, that the moral qualities of man are more defective in 
 their kind than his natural abilities.' ' In proportion to 
 my veneration for true religion is my abhorrence of vulgar 
 superstitions.' 
 
 C/. ' Religion, however corrupted, is still better than no 
 religion at all.' ' The proper office of religion is to regulate 
 the heart of men, humanise their 'conduct, infuse the spirit 
 of temperance, order, and obedience ; and as its operation 
 
126 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 is silent, and only enforces the motives of morality and 
 justice, it is in danger of being overlooked, and confounded 
 with these other motives. When it distinguishes itself, 
 and acts as a separate principle over men, it has departed 
 from its proper sphere, and has become only a cover to 
 faction and ambition.' 
 
CHAPTER Vlir 
 
 HUME AMONG HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Hume, more than most men of his time, is known by 
 his books. His writings have this peculiar value, that 
 they shew the reader much of his individuality. He 
 deals so largely with the moral and religious life, in 
 practical as well as in philosophical aspects, that the 
 pages reveal the man, whereas it often happens that 
 a man's writings are a veil, not infrequently a screen, 
 concealing the author. 
 
 When we pass from Hume's literary efforts to his social 
 life, the man is again revealed. By a series of reflected 
 pictures, vividly accurate, his image seems thrown on 
 a mirror. The social life appears broadly, and the large 
 variety of interest, notwithstanding his seclusion, often ex- 
 tends over long periods. He is ' sociable, though he lives 
 in solitude' (Burton, I., p. 226), M.S. Royal Society, Ed. 
 One has only to name a selection of those with whom he 
 enjoyed the intimacy of friendship, in order to suggest the 
 biographical value of these friendships, and of the records 
 of them which survive. This will be obvious by mere 
 reference to his friendship with Adam Smith, who stands 
 out prominently in the circle of chosen companions ; with 
 Strahan, his publisher and Uterary adviser, to whom he is 
 
 X97 
 
128 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 drawn closer as the work of life advances ; with Home, 
 author of Douglas, illustrating his generous interest in 
 the literary success of others; with Rousseau, resulting 
 from his residence in Paris, in course of which we see 
 the tenderness and generous spirit of the man, though 
 all ends in vexatious failure ; and his friendship with the 
 Countess de Boufflers, to whom he is attracted by her 
 striking intellectual gifts, and with whom he sympathises 
 in her times of perplexity and adversity. 
 
 Intellectual ability in all its phases finds a ready ad- 
 miration. After that, he is attracted to social life by his 
 appreciation of social pleasantries, of unrestrained talk on 
 well-chosen themes, and of free banter, attended with 
 jest which has no bitterness in it, — a freedom dear to him, 
 in accordance with the customs of his country. 
 
 What he was in disposition and tendency his friends 
 had to accept; and for the most part they found no 
 great difficulty in maintaining regard for one who had a 
 large share of dogmatism in his conversation, without the 
 Johnsonian gruffness. From his early days to life's close, 
 literary ambition was the main-spring in his life ; next, 
 there was in him, along with love of truth, a strong criti- 
 cal spirit, rejoicing in suspense of judgment and in doubt; 
 and, along with these, an intense social instinct, which to 
 a man largely severed from family ties, brought, in the 
 unrestrained hours of leisure, the comfort and quietly 
 stimulating effects of social interest, with play of fancy 
 and of feeling. These things indicate how much Hume 
 sought, and how much he gave, within the privileged 
 circle of chosen friends. 
 
 Edinburgh, the city of his birth, continued to Hume 
 
DAVID HUME 129 
 
 the centre of attraction all his life through, finding the 
 town ' the true scene for a man of letters.' Ninewells 
 was his retreat when study demanded seclusion. It was 
 the home centre while his mother lived ; it continued his 
 cherished retreat after his brother was owner, his sister-in- 
 law at the head of her own family circle, and his nephews 
 were gathering the fresh associations of early life. The 
 circle attracted him, but the quietness of the place was an 
 allurement dear to a philosopher. But Edinburgh com- 
 manded his loyal attachment throughout. It was the city 
 of his abode, the centre of his friendships. Whatever the 
 inducements calling him away, he left it with a grudge; 
 when engagements elsewhere were closed, he always 
 returned with delightful anticipation of renewed enjoy- 
 ment of his social surroundings. Edinburgh was to 
 Hume what it afterwards became to Robert Louis 
 Stevenson, though it was more a centre of lifelong 
 friendships to Hume than to Stevenson, who found in 
 Samoa the attractive climate favourable to one in feeble 
 health. 
 
 Hume experienced no serious discomfort in the 
 cold of an Edinburgh winter and spring. He could 
 even write to a friend who was to occupy his house, 
 that one of the rooms in it was so comfortable that 
 there was no need for a fire there, even on a cold night. 
 His native city was his chosen dweUing. He had his 
 earlier abode at different points in the historic line of 
 street from the Castle to Holyrood. Once in the Canon- 
 gate, well down the line towards the Palace, afterwards in 
 the Lawnmarket in James's Court, almost under the 
 shadow of the Castle walls, in one of the high lands, with 
 
 I 
 
i3o FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 grand prospect looking across the Firth of Forth to Fife. 
 Latterly he had his abode in the New Town, beyond the 
 Nor' Loch, where he built a house on the rising ground 
 on which St Andrew Square now stands. A wag wrote with 
 chalk upon its wall, ' Saint David,' which being reported 
 to its owner, he replied, ' Many a better man has been 
 made a saint.' The name became a fixture, for the street 
 is still known as St David Street. At whatever point in 
 it he fixed his dwelling, the city, its society, and its 
 surroundings concentrated the living interests of the 
 philosophic historian. 
 
 Only once did he hesitate as to the place of his settled 
 abode, but then the hesitation was serious. It was when 
 his duties as Secretary to the Embassy in Paris came to a 
 close. The attentions and flatteries lavished on him there 
 stood in strong contrast with the suspicions and con- 
 demnation which met him in Edinburgh. ' Edinburgh 
 has many objections and many allurements,' he wrote. 
 Quite seriously he thought of seeking some genial retreat 
 in France. Adam Smith remonstrated with him against 
 such a choice, and wrote to Millar, the bookseller, asking 
 him to advise Hume against separation from his life-long 
 interests. ' He is light-headed, tell him, when he talks of 
 coming to spend the remainder of his days here (Paris) or 
 in France.' * Hume soon came to be of Smith's opinion, 
 and decided against settling in France, fearing that he 
 should be drawn ' into engagements with princes and 
 great lords and ladies.' He returned to Scotland. The 
 good fortune of being nominated by Mr Conway to the 
 
 * M.S. Royal Soc, Ed. Letters of Hume to Strahan, Birkbeck 
 Hill, p. 59- 
 
DAVID HUME 131 
 
 position of Under-Secretary of State transferred him to 
 London for a time, but there the power of the magnet in 
 Edinburgh was felt as strongly as before. 
 
 Among his friends the most intimate was Adam Smith, 
 the Kirkcaldy boy, twelve years his junior, son of the 
 Comptroller of Customs in the ' lang toun,' a Writer to 
 the Signet, and Judge Advocate Depute for Scotland. 
 The historian and the economist, afterwards author of 
 The Wealth of Nations, became fast friends. A biographer 
 cannot write of the one without writing of the other. 
 
 In early life Hume and Smith dwelt remote from each 
 other. Chirnside and Kirkcaldy were far apart. Their 
 intimacy did not come from boyhood years, but from their 
 early manhood, when Hume was author of the Treatise, 
 and the younger man a student at Glasgow University, 
 having an eye on the ' Snell ' Bursary, which would open 
 the way to Oxford. After Smith's return from Oxford he 
 was at Kirkcaldy from 1746 to 1748; Hume was then 
 absent on the Continent as Secretary to General St Clair 
 when on his mission to the Court of Turin. By the 
 influence of Henry Home of Kames (afterwards Lord 
 Karnes) and James Oswald of Dunkier, young Smith 
 came to Edinburgh to deliver a course of lectures on 
 English Literature. This course was largely attended by 
 members of the bar, clergymen, and leading citizens. 
 These lectures were given throughout three successive 
 winters, until the lecturer was appointed Professor of 
 Philosophy in the University of Glasgow. Through the 
 friendly intervention of Home and Oswald, Hume and 
 Smith became acquainted, and soon they were fast friends, 
 sharing in a multitude of literary, philosophic, and patriotic 
 
13* FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 interests. They were of opposite schools of politics — 
 Hume Tory, Smith Liberal — but this was no obstacle to 
 deepest friendship. From this time there was laid the 
 foundation of a lifelong intimacy. So strong was the 
 mutual attachment that it was to Hume an additional 
 attraction to the view from the high windows in James's 
 Court that it included Kirkcaldy, the dwelling-place of 
 Adam Smith, whilst Smith addressed Hume as ' My 
 dearest friend.' In his valuable Life of Adam Smith, Rae 
 fitly names it 'a memorable Roman friendship ' (p. 105). 
 When the end of life approached, and Hume prepared 
 his will, ' My friend, Dr Adam Smith, late Professor of 
 Moral Philosophy in Glasgow,' is named as literary 
 executor to carry out his most cherished desires. 
 
 From the first Hume valued Smith as a profound and 
 original thinker ; Smith looked up to Hume as one who 
 had greatly influenced him by his Treatise in those days 
 when he, as junior, was only a student in Glasgow, under 
 the teaching of Hutchison, Professor of Moral Philosophy. 
 That Hume was twelve years older than his friend was a 
 fact that did nothing to abate the frankness of the elder, 
 or the freedom of the younger. The two were born 
 ' thinkers,' each finding the main occupation of his life in 
 study of abstract problems, and each finding in the other 
 a cherished enthusiasm for literature and philosophy. 
 Both spent much time in silent thought ; both were noted 
 for ' wealth of conversation ' when in a chosen circle of 
 friends, though Smith was prone to silence at times ; and 
 each appreciated the variety of powers belonging to the 
 other. Hume's Essay on the Balance of Trade seems to 
 have arrested the attention of Adam Smith, whose deep 
 
DAVID HUME 133 
 
 interest in questions of trade and commerce found quick- 
 ening here. Smith's bias makes it easy to understand 
 how his attention would be attracted by an argument 
 against the tendency in nations ' to prohibit the exporta- 
 tion of commodities.' How valuable must have seemed 
 to him its fundamental position. ' The more is exported 
 of any commodity, the more will be raised at home, of 
 which they themselves will always have the first offer.' 
 This opened a wide range of common interest. To this 
 and to the more practical side of philosophy. Smith was 
 devoted ; he did not, however, enter with Hume's enthusi 
 asm into the speculative region. Smith was even steadily 
 opposed to Hume's publication of the Dialogues on Religion. 
 Hume had an absorbing devotion to the speculative 
 problems, which led him towards sceptical rather than 
 positive conclusions. 
 
 In 1749 Hume returned from the mission to Vienna 
 and Turin ; for two years thereafter he was at Ninewells ; 
 in 1 75 1 he came to Edinburgh, where the Librarianship 
 of the Advocates' Library opened the way to the prepara- 
 tion of the History. It was at this juncture Smith was 
 elected Professor of Logic in Glasgow. The two were 
 parted, just when the opportunity for regular interviews 
 seemed probable. Such, however, was their devotion to 
 each other, that Smith often came from Glasgow, though 
 the journey in these days occupied thirteen hours. 
 Hume's house was Smith's abode at such times; the 
 summer recess brought to Smith the satisfaction of ex- 
 tended residence in Edinburgh. Their friendship was 
 constant ; their co-operation in public enterprise incessant. 
 Smith was transferred to the Chair of Moral Philosophy in 
 
134 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 1752, when Hume became a candidate for the Chair of 
 Logic, but without success, since he had roused an adverse 
 feeling which shewed its strength as soon as he sought 
 the position of a pubhc teacher. Smith is constrained 
 to abandon hope of Hume's success ; saying to Professor 
 CuUen : — ' I would prefer David Hume to any man for 
 the College ; but I am afraid the public would not be of 
 my opinion.' Hume had to retire from the conflict a 
 defeated candidate. 
 
 Smith gave his interest and effort to the advancement 
 of education in the University of Glasgow, and of literary 
 taste in the city, finding there many willing coadjutors. 
 But it was in Edinburgh that the largest gathering of men 
 outside the University shewed unceasing resolution for 
 advancement of literature, philosophy, science and social 
 organisation. There were Lord Kames (Henry Home) ; 
 his brother, John Home, minister of Athelstaneford, 
 author of Douglas ; Adam Ferguson, Professor of Moral 
 Philosophy; Gilbert Elliot, M.P. ; Sir David and Sir 
 John Dalrymple; Robertson, Blair, Alexander Carlyle, 
 William Wilkie, minister of Ratho, and author of the 
 Epigoniad, with many more in the midst of whom 
 Hume and Smith were recognised as the most active 
 and able. Hume with a ' strong and capacious mind,' 
 Smith with a practical sagacity which excelled that of 
 his senior. The three philosophers, David Hume, 
 Adam Smith, and Adam Ferguson had, in all literary 
 circles, the deference to which their distinctive writings 
 entitled them. 
 
 On the proposal of Smith, Hume was made a member 
 of 'The Literary Society' of Glasgow. In Edinburgh, 
 
DAVID HUME 135 
 
 Hume was Secretary to ' The Philosophical Society,' after- 
 wards merged in ' The Royal Society.' Smith was elected 
 a member of 'The Philosophical' in 1752. 
 
 Smith was a leading spirit in the formation of 'The 
 Select Society ' of Edinburgh, constituted on the model of 
 the ' French Academy,' and first proposed by Oswald and 
 Allan Ramsay. Adam Smith made the opening speech 
 explanatory of the objects and constitution. The Society 
 at once gained favour, the membership quickly rising from 
 15 members, the original number, to 130, including the 
 most illustrious names at a notable period in the history 
 of Scotland. The weekly debates maintained by the 
 Society proved animated and eifective. Hume boasts 
 of them that 'the House of Commons was less the 
 object of general curiosity to London than the Select 
 Society is to Edinburgh.' Here young advocates, 
 ministers and literary men, had an arena for distirtction, 
 and 'long drawling speakers found out their want of 
 talents.' The range of subjects was wide, chiefly poli- 
 tical and economic {Scots Magazine, xix., 163), the limits 
 imposed being indicated by exclusion of ' such as regard 
 revealed religion, or which may give occasion to vent any 
 principles of Jacobitism.' 
 
 Out of this Society originated the Edinburgh Society 
 for encouraging art, science, manufactures, and agri- 
 culture. In this movement, Hume and Smith had a 
 part, being placed together on the Committee for Belles- 
 Lettres and Criticism. 
 
 In the midst of these manifold activities, a restless feeling 
 was stirring in religious circles on account of the unreserved 
 sceptical bias of Hume's works. Campbell {Lives of the 
 
136 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 Chancellors, vol. vi., i8) describes it as 'a state of extra- 
 ordinary ferment.' In I7SS Hume and Lord Karnes were 
 threatened with a summons to appear before the General 
 Assembly to give account of their published views, and 
 with possible ex-communication. The mover (Anderson) 
 was not influential but he was persistent, and, by careful 
 adherence to form, was able to put the machinery of the 
 Supreme Court of the Church in motion. Hume made 
 light of it all, in his own jaunty way ; the member of the 
 College of Justice was more disturbed. They trusted to 
 Robertson, the leader of the House, and to the young 
 advocate, Alexander Wedderburn, then rising into influ- 
 ence, to trace the limits of reasonable ecclesiastical pro- 
 cedure, and to vindicate freedom of thought in the field of 
 literature. The anxiety of the two authors — which appears 
 strange to us — was not unnatural a century and a half ago. 
 Religious faith and feeling had encountered a rude shock 
 from the writings of Hume, and the age was one which 
 gave to the Supreme Court of the Church a wide dominion 
 over all the subjects. A prudent reserve was maintained 
 in the exercise of ecclesiastical authority. The majority 
 of a court, which had dealt hardly with its own members 
 in 1733 and 1752 — when pleading in the interests of 
 evangelical religion for the rights of the people in election 
 of their ministers — dealt more leniently with the sceptic 
 and with the speculative thinker on the bench, the latter, 
 indeed, being exempted from the more serious charges 
 advanced. Majorities had been found to depose Ebenezer 
 Erskine and his companions, and also Thomas Gillespie, 
 a few years afterwards, for refusing to share in the induc- 
 tion of ministers presented by the patron but rejected by 
 
DAVID HUME 137 
 
 the people. But when the Assembly were asked ' to caLI 
 before them ' ' one person styling himself David Hume, 
 Esq., who hath arrived at such a degree of boldness as to 
 avow himself the author of books containing the most rude 
 and open attacks on the glorious gospel of Christ,' they 
 declined to exercise their authority — refused to examine 
 his books and to pronounce a formal decision upon them 
 — making in this a beginning in the recognition of that 
 liberty to think and to publish according to conviction, 
 which we now value and deem essential to true progress 
 in thought. But in these days ' the ferment ' was serious. 
 The force of religious antagonism to Hume was such that 
 his friend Smith hesitated to associate Hume with other 
 writers in a literary adventure of the time — the institution 
 of the Edinburgh Review, in anticipation of the famous 
 Journal which, under the guidance of Jeffrey, afterwards 
 appeared under the familiar title. The young advocate, 
 just referred to as the defender of Hume in the Assembly, 
 was the Editor of the Edinburgh Review of 1 755, a young 
 man of high ability and vast energy, who afterwards rose 
 to be Lord High Chancellor of England, and became 
 Earl of Rosslyn. On the staff of writers there were Adam 
 Smith, Robertson and Blair — all the familiar friends of 
 Hume. The religious antipathy stirring so strongly 
 against him seems to have induced them to hesitate to 
 include him on the staff, and they kept from him the 
 information as to their plans. The object of the 
 Edinburgh Review was 'to shew men at this particular 
 stage of the country's progress the gradual advance of 
 science would be a means of inciting them to a more 
 eager pursuit of learning, to distinguish themselves, and 
 
138 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 to do honour to their country.' The bare suspicion that 
 Hume was directly concerned in the venture went against 
 its chances of success, and the Review did not get beyond 
 its second number, pubUshed January 1756. In 1818, 
 Sir James Mackintosh republished the two numbers, as 
 containing ' the first printed writings of Adam Smith and 
 Robertson, and the only linown publication of Lord Chan- 
 cellor Rosslyn ' (Alexander Wedderburn). In his preface 
 to the republication given in Mackintosh's works, vol. ii., 
 p. 470, Sir James says that 'the temper of the people of 
 Scotland was at that moment peculiarly jealous in every 
 question that approached the boundaries of theology' 
 (P- 473)- Unfortunately the projectors did not feel 
 that their craft was trimmed and manned to face the 
 storm. The Edinburgh Review disappeared, its name 
 reserved for the later and better venture planned in 
 Buccleuch Place by Jeffrey and others in 1802. 
 Hume was too well aware of the antagonism he had 
 roused, the result of acting as one ' desirous of being 
 hated by the public,' to be offended by his exclusion, 
 when the secret came out. 
 
 In 1758 Hume made a vigorous effort to get Smith to 
 Edinburgh, as successor to Professor Abercromby in the 
 Chair of Public Law ; but Smith declined to think of it, 
 and continued other five years in Glasgow University. 
 The two continued in co-operation exactly as if Edinburgh 
 had been the place of residence for both. Their next 
 joint effort was in a political movement for the advance of 
 their country. The Jacobite rebellion had left in England 
 a sense of distrust of the Scotch, the manifestation of 
 which, in the rejection in 1760 of a Bill for a Scotch 
 
DAVID HUME 139 
 
 militia. Tlie irritation occasioned in Scotland led to the 
 formation of ' The Edinburgh Poker Club 'in 1 762. This 
 was a convivial club, with a definite political purpose, — 
 ' the poker ' being the symbol of a purpose to stir the fire 
 of agitation against the action of Parliament, and the 
 English prejudices which sustained it in the course taken. 
 The declared object of the Club was to obtain greater 
 security ' for the freedom and independence of these 
 islands.' Hume, Smith and Ferguson were members of 
 the ' Poker,' the words quoted being those of the philo- 
 sopher last named. Gradually the favour for a standing 
 army extended throughout the nation, and when in 1776 
 the Scotch MiUtia Bill of Lord Montstuart was introduced, 
 there was much less complaint over it, even though a militia 
 was granted to Ireland, while it was refused to Scotland. 
 
 Shortly after the founding of 'The Poker Club,' Hume 
 had gone to Paris, as Secretary to Lord Hertford, British 
 Ambassador. Hume left hurriedly, and had time only to 
 send to Smith a word of explanation. Smith had been 
 pleading with Hume to visit Glasgow, and Hume, in a vein 
 of pleasantry, in March 1763, writes: — 'You maybe sure 
 a journey to Glasgow will be one of the first I shall under- 
 take. I intend to require with great strictness an account 
 of how you have been employing your leisure, and I desire 
 you to be ready for that purpose. Woe be to you if the 
 balance be against you.' By the month of August Hume 
 wrote to tell of his departure for Paris. ' I am a little 
 hurried in my preparations, but I could not depart without 
 bidding you adieu, my good friend, and without acquaint- 
 ing you with the reasons of so sudden a movement.' He 
 closes the letter saying — ' We may meet abroad, which 
 
140 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 will be a great satisfaction to me.' This meeting came 
 sooner than either expected. When Hume had reached 
 Paris, his first letter was to Smith, telling how he had 
 ' suffered as much flattery as almost any man has ever done 
 in the same time,' and he tells him that, under the eye of 
 the Baron d'Holbach, there is one engaged in translating 
 his Theory of Moral Sentiments. In the following October 
 (1763), Smith received a letter proposing that he should 
 accompany the young Duke of Buccleuch, then at Eton, 
 on a continental tour, in course of which education might 
 be blended with travel and relaxation, ofiering the philoso- 
 pher ;^3oo a year while so engaged, and ^^300 a year for 
 life thereafter. The Professor accepted, resigned his Moral 
 Philosophy Chair, and turned his face for the first time to 
 the Continent, with the Duke of Buccleuch, and his com- 
 panion. Sir James Macdonald of Sleat. ' Sir James was 
 heir of the old Lords of the Isles, and son of the lady who, 
 with her factor, Kingsburgh, harboured Prince Charles and 
 Flora Macdonald in Skye ' (Rae, Life of Adam Smith, 
 p. 174). The travellers reached Paris in February of 
 1764, when, during a stay of ten days, most of Smith's 
 time was spent in the company of Hume. Thereafter the 
 time of the Duke of Buccleuch was spent in Toulouse, 
 Bordeaux, and Montpelier. Afterwards he and his tutor 
 came to Geneva, where Smith made the acquaintance of 
 Voltaire, for whose literary ability he had a high admira- 
 tion. In course of the residence at the different places 
 selected. Smith had much time on his hand. On 5 th July 
 1764, he writes to Hume: — ' The life which I led at Glas- 
 gow was a pleasurable, dissipated life in comparison of 
 that which I lead here at present. I have begun to write 
 
DAVID HUME 141 
 
 a book, in order to pass away the time.' This is the first 
 reference to the writing of the Wealth of Nations. When 
 the travellers returned to Paris in 1765, Hume had lost 
 his position at the Embassy, and was preparing for his 
 departure, when Rousseau was to go with him to England. 
 Smith's arrival in Paris at this juncture gave opportunity 
 for again spending several days with Hume. 
 
 It was not till 1776, the year of Hume's death, that 
 Adam Smith published the Wealth of Nations. Hume 
 took a warm interest in the success of the book, as he had 
 done in the Theory of Moral Sentiments. He wrote his 
 friend expressing in warmest terms his admiration of the 
 book. ' It has depth, and solidity, and acuteness, and is 
 so much illustrated by curious facts, that it must at last 
 attract the public attention.' Gibbon, in a letter to Adam 
 Ferguson, described it as ' an extensive science in a single 
 book.' The work arrested public attention in a large 
 degree, commanded careful study from many distinguished 
 parliamentary leaders, supplied the educational influence 
 which prepared for the Free-Trade policy adopted in the 
 mother country of all the English speaking nations, and 
 was accepted as a classic in the literature of Political Science. 
 Hume begins his letter to the author : — ' Euge ! Belle ! — 
 Dear Mr Smith, — I am much pleased with your perfor- 
 mance.' The words were written only a few months before 
 the pen dropped from the writer's hand, — a pen wielded 
 powerfully when arguing for removal of commercial re- 
 strictions, pleading for ' that free communication and 
 exchange, which the author of the world has intended by 
 giving them soils, climates, and genuises, so different from 
 each other.' 
 
I4« FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 One cannot tell of Hume's friendships without noting 
 the warm interest manifested by him in the literary labours 
 and successes of his compeers. Whether we refer to 
 Adam Smith, or to Robertson, or to John Home, author 
 of Douglas, we find evidence of his generous admiration 
 and joy in their success. To this must be added bis 
 resolute efforts to help forward young aspirants, unknown 
 in literary circles, or battling with difficulties. Witness his 
 efforts for Thomas Blacklock, the blind poet, residing in 
 Dumfries, by whose ' gentle sensitive character and hard 
 fate ' he was greatly moved. For ' the son of a poor 
 tradesman ' he made strong efforts to clear the way, 
 esteeming as a young man ' of modesty, virtue, and good- 
 ness, as well as of genius; ' and one who, ' notwithstanding 
 very strict frugality, is in great necessities.' To Blacklock 
 he for a time gave the salary which came to him for his 
 duties at the Advocates' Library, when, having quarrelled 
 with the committee of management, he was preparing for 
 resignation. Another example of enthusiastic effort, in 
 which, however, his goodness of heart outran his caution, 
 is presented in his introduction of Macpherson with his 
 professed 'Ossian' manuscripts to the literary circles of 
 London. Johnson suspected deception from the first, 
 and expressed his disdain in one of his usual outbursts. 
 But Hume did not easily relax his interest, and feeling some 
 pride in the proof of poetic gift among the Highlanders 
 of Scotland, stuck to his protdgd, till doubts came to 
 disturb his own confidence and to weaken his zeal. 
 
 When Hume was suddenly transferred to the British 
 Embassy at Paris a quite new social experience opened to 
 him. After being presented at Court, he was, as we have 
 
DAVID HUME 143 
 
 seen, welcomed to the literary gatherings of the French 
 metropolis. He was delighted to find himself in a city 
 where literary merit gave a free pass to the best society, 
 and he was naturally elated by the reception extended 
 to him. Sceptical tendencies presented no barriers, 
 and awakened neither suspicions nor aversions. He 
 was flattered even in little set speeches which struck him 
 as novel ; he was ' lionised ' ; and became noted as ' the 
 Great David.' For a season, he passed through a round 
 of gaiety, not altogether favourable to friendship in its best 
 sense. Only slowly did he succeed in reaching the literary 
 men of Paris in their more familiar gatherings. But at 
 length he secured the friendship of many of the most con- 
 spicuous of them, although the duties of his office made it 
 needful to give his chief attention to ' society,' where 
 Court influences could be best considered, and the require- 
 ments of an ambassador could be best served. 
 
 In Parisian circles, he met a scepticism which out- 
 stretched the utmost length of his expressed doubts. On 
 one occasion in Edinburgh he was saluted by a brilliant 
 lady as a Deist, and resented the suggestion, saying 
 that he had no desire to be regarded in this light. On 
 another occasion in Paris, when dining with the Baron 
 d'Holbach, Hume said to his host that he ' had not seen an 
 Atheist, and did not believe that there was one,' to which 
 the Baron replied, ' you are here at table with seventeen.' 
 Hume learned to respect many of these men, but his 
 acquaintance did not induce him to change his deliber- 
 ately expressed judgment which he was at pains to have 
 published — 'Surely nothing can afford a stronger pre- 
 sumption that any set of principles are true, and ought to 
 
144 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 be embraced, than to observe that they tend to the con- 
 firmation of true religion, and serve to confound the cavils 
 of Atheists, Libertines, and Free-thinkers of all denomina- 
 tions.'* 
 
 In Paris, Hume soon became a recognised favourite 
 among the ladies who reigned over the salons where 
 literary men mingled with ladies and gentlemen of high 
 rank. He gained the acquaintance of all these guides of 
 fashion, and his presence was eagerly desired when their 
 invitations were issued. This arose out of the unbounded 
 good humour of the man, his ready delight in the pleas- 
 antries of good society, and his willingness, after his first 
 shyness was over, to contribute to the glancing mirth 
 which gave zest to the evening. Out of this sprung also 
 not a few valued friendships ; such as come from more 
 serious lines of thought, and common interest in subjects 
 of careful study. Of these the best example appears in 
 his friendship with the Countess de BoufHers. Among 
 the favourites of Court, he found not a few ladies who 
 were ' great readers,' having at the same time ' great sense 
 and an agreeable conversation,' but the Countess de 
 BoufHers shewed deep interest in his own works, and 
 in all the questions philosophical and political which 
 engrossed his thoughts. Their correspondence, of which a 
 large selection is published, shews the breadth of interest 
 she felt in the great problems of life. Their earlier letters 
 concern largely the persons holding prominent positions, 
 and the books which merited careful study. At a later 
 period the Countess came to make Hume more of a con- 
 fidant who would feel some direct interest in her ambi- 
 
 * Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion, Part I., p. 21. 
 
DAVID HUME 145 
 
 tions, and) even more certainly, some compassion for her 
 in her disappointments and trials. The Count de Boufflers 
 does not seem to have concerned himself much with the 
 gaieties of his wife. She, feeling the lurements of a gay 
 court, was drawn into intrigue and into clandestine 
 relations with the Prince of Conti which were at first only 
 faintly veiled, and were afterwards accounted as affording 
 a basis for social distinction. After the death of the 
 Count she cherished the further ambitious hope of finding 
 her place as a member of the royal family. The doubts 
 and fears of that dark, silent, restless season, when hope 
 and fear contended with each other, and were constantly 
 supplanting each other, were freely communicated to Hume, 
 and this in manner which touched his compassion, bringing 
 his sympathy into active exercise, in the midst of such 
 opportunities as his official position afforded. Writing on 
 28th November 1764, he assures her that he has kept 
 ' eyes and ears open with regard to everything that con- 
 cerns her affair.' He even goes so far as to report from 
 ' the best informed ' an impression ' that a resolution had 
 been taken in her favour,' fanning the flame of ambition 
 soon to be damped and to die out. Such a friendship 
 was not to be lost sight of; the Countess clung to it with 
 great confidence ; and, even after hope had been displaced 
 by the bitterness of disappointment, she received gratefully 
 Hume's counsel as coming from one who had expressed 
 deep compassion for her ' in her present melancholy situa- 
 tion,' when having been seemingly brought ' within reach 
 of honour and felicity,' she is slowly but surely being 
 lowered into overwhelming dismay. Then he counsels 
 courage, and the firm resolution of one who has nerved 
 
 K 
 
t46 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 herself for the supreme effort of breaking off an alliance 
 which is closing in sword-thrusts, endangering to health, 
 and fatal to the peace and hope of an honourable life. 
 With a feeling altogether suitable to the occasion, he 
 writes — ' The measure which I recommend to you requires 
 courage, but I dread that nothing else will be able to pre- 
 vent the consequences so justly apprehended' {^Private 
 Corr. of D. Hume, published 1820, p. 112 ; Burton, II., 
 p. 249). So much did the Countess in the calmer hours 
 of later years value the friendship of so faithful yet sympa- 
 thetic a counsellor, that correspondence was maintained 
 by her after Hume had finally returned to his own land. 
 She even became in turn a truly sympathetic friend of 
 the Scottish philosopher when disaster fell on his rela- 
 tions with Rousseau (Private Correspondence, cf. p. 171, 
 p. 186). 
 
 To Voltaire and Rousseau, the literary rivals dividing 
 the honours of the day, Hume was naturally attracted on 
 account of their conspicuous ability. His interest in them 
 was further quickened by his own intellectual bias in 
 favour of a sceptical tendency. He felt besides, notwith- 
 standing the reckless extravagance of their writings, that 
 a service was being done in a very rude manner, and too 
 often in a blasphemous spirit in breaking up the dominion 
 of evil traditions, and preparing the way for the freedom 
 and breadth of thought which must be the conditions of 
 progress. 
 
 Hume never came into close friendship with Voltaire. 
 From his private correspondence it is clear that he 
 had a great admiration of ' the many fine things ' in 
 Voltaire's writings. But circumstances did not favour 
 
DAVID HUME 147 
 
 close intimacy. Hume was, indeed, in thorough agree- 
 ment with Voltaire in his antagonism to the Church of 
 Rome, because of its fostering of superstition among the 
 people, licentiousness among the priests, and intolerance 
 towards all who valued freedom of thought. To this 
 extent the two were in full sympathy. But Hume had 
 learned at an early stage in his experience as a servant 
 of the British Crown, that Voltaire was reckless and 
 virulent in assault, and relentless in spirit. Hume's judg- 
 ment was this : — ' He never forgives, and never thinks 
 any enemy below his notice' (Burton, II., 195). Yet, 
 when Hume found himself rising into general popu- 
 larity in France, he felt it desirable to seek somewhat 
 friendly relations with Voltaire. In a letter to Colonel 
 Edmonstoune, written from Paris on 9th January 1764, 
 he says, ' when I arrived in Paris all M. Voltaire's friends 
 told me of the regard he always expressed for me ; that 
 some advances on my part were due to his age, and would 
 be well taken. I accordingly wrote him a letter in which 
 I expressed the esteem undoubted due to his talents ; and 
 among other things I said that if I were not confined to 
 Paris by public business, I should have a great ambition 
 to pay him a visit at Geneva' (Burton, II., 184). But no 
 great intimacy sprung up between them. Geneva was 
 too far distant from Paris ; Hume was too closely held 
 by the demands of his secretarial duties ; and they do not 
 seem to have met. There was, however, mutual interest 
 and regard which found occasional expression. When the 
 outburst of Rousseau's wrath brought Hume into serious 
 trouble, Voltaire wrote a letter, dated Ferney, 24th October 
 1766, to express his sympathy, mingled with ready 
 
148 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 sarcasm directed against Rousseau (Voltaire's (Euvres, 
 ed. 1789, Ixiv., 495 ; Burton, II., 358). 
 
 With Rousseau, Hume came into close and most friendly 
 relations, attracted not only by his brilliant gifts, but also 
 by compassion for his many sorrows, and specially by 
 sympathy of most direct and active form when persecution 
 threatened him with loss of liberty. Rousseau had 
 enjoyed at an earlier stage a period of quiet peaceful 
 experience when he found satisfaction in literary work. 
 This was the Montmorency period, when he enjoyed the 
 friendly and generous interest of the Duke and Duchess 
 of Luxembourg, and had the satisfaction of meeting many 
 of the highest rank in France. But when Hume came to 
 know him, Rousseau had fallen on evil times. A trying 
 combination of circumstances made his life miserable. 
 He was as much as ever the brilliant writer, the flashes of 
 whose wit and genius delighted his countrymen ; but the 
 author was wretched, as one driven to bay and tormented. 
 This bitter experience was largely due to his own lack of 
 self-control. He had the sad inheritance of an excitable 
 nervous temperament inducing miserable recklessness; 
 his domestic life did nothing to soothe or elevate daily 
 experience; his own self-indulgent irresolute spirit con- 
 stantly aggravated his troubles. Many in high rank did 
 much to abate his sorrows ; but the rulers of the nation 
 suspected his evil influence, and threatened him with 
 condign restraint ; while popular applause brought occa- 
 sional relief and brightness, it could not bring deliverance 
 from the growing burden of life. He grew increasingly 
 irritable, suspicious, and miserable ; this evil spirit of 
 unrest was aggravated by sarcasm levelled against his 
 
DAVID HUME 149 
 
 vanity, and by practical jokes, the worst of which was 
 perpetrated by Horace Walpole who wrote him a letter of 
 large promise assuming the semblance and signature of 
 the Great Frederick of Prussia. Rousseau was maddened 
 by these things, and was gradually moving on a dangerous 
 incline towards insanity. 
 
 Hume proved a warm-hearted generous friend who 
 stood by Rousseau in these days of trouble. Hume's 
 sympathy soothed the fevered brain, irritated by miseries, 
 real and imaginary, and it animated the disturbed life by 
 inspiring fresh hope. The Scotchman who had thought of 
 forsaking his own country in order to settle in France, 
 became the adviser of the French litterateur counselling 
 withdrawal from his country, and promising a safe retreat 
 in England. He, who gave the counsel, was ready to 
 undertake guidance and responsibiUty. So it happened 
 that when Hume's time for leaving France had come, at 
 the close of 1765, Rousseau had arrived in Paris to act 
 in accordance with his friend's suggestion, and, as it 
 happened, to travel with him to England. He had in 
 Hume a true friend whose feelings were thus expressed, 
 ' I must own I felt on this occasion an emotion of pity, 
 mixed with indignation, to think a man of letters of such 
 eminent merit should be reduced in spite of the simplicity 
 of his manner of living to such extreme indigence ; and 
 that this unhappy state should be rendered more intoler- 
 able by sickness, by the approach of old age, and the 
 implacable rage of persecution' (Burton, II., 296). To 
 his burdened life the prospect of an English home seemed 
 an escape from a load of woe. He arrived in Paris a 
 marked man, outlawed by Parliament, yet sheltered by 
 
ISO FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 the Prince of Conti, strange in appearance, wearing an 
 American dress, dreaded by the ruling authorities, idolised 
 by the people who were moving towards their own 
 paroxysm of madness. When the popular enthusiasm was 
 roused it began to overflow in tumultuous fashion, involv- 
 ing the retiring secretary of the British Embassy in a 
 situation not the most comfortable. Escape from it was 
 agreeable to Rousseau himself as well as to Hume, and 
 early in January 1766, the now miserable object of 
 popular admiration, passes away from the view of the 
 excited Parisians, under the friendly guidance of ' the Great 
 David.' Hume's judgment of his unfortunate protdg^ is 
 very favourable, and his compassion for him deep. ' I find 
 him mild and gentle, and modest and good humoured ' ; 
 ' his judgment and affections are as strongly biassed in my 
 favour as mine are in his,' Those who knew well the char- 
 acteristics of the author of Entile warned Hume that he 
 ' could not conduct him to Calais without a quarrel.' But 
 the warm-hearted friend discredited such evil prognostica- 
 tions, and writes — ' I think I could live with him all my 
 life in mutual friendship and esteem. I am very sorry 
 that the matter is not likely to be put to trial ! ' (Burton, 
 II., 310). 
 
 These two fast friends arrived in London in safety. 
 Rousseau became the object of popular interest, and was 
 welcomed by many of high rank. By the intervention of 
 Hume, he received a pension from the King, and besides 
 this, Hume succeeded in awakening a lively interest in the 
 French genius in the heart of his friend, Mr Davenport 
 of Davenport, who generously placed at Rousseau's com- 
 mand as a dwelling, ' the mansion of Wooton, in Derby- 
 
DAVID HUME 151 
 
 shire, surrounded by scenery not unlike that which he had 
 left behind him in the Jura.' All was accomplished that 
 Hume had foreshadowed, and in a manner as exact as if 
 the whole had been arranged in the routine of ordinary 
 business, with resources ample. If surroundings can make 
 the future, all is in proper course. But Rousseau is only a 
 silent volcano ; woe betide all concerned when the lava 
 bursts forth ! A favourable retreat has been found for the 
 great genius, before whom 'Voltaire and everybody else 
 are quite eclipsed.' Hume had reason to be proud of his 
 success, as the friend who had cleared the way out of a 
 forest of troubles. But what of the restless, tumultuous 
 nature in ' the mansion of Wooton,' accustomed to out- 
 bursts of popular applause, and also to deep and troubled 
 brooding over his miseries? He is an utter stranger in 
 the land, comparatively unfamiliar with the language of 
 the people around, who did not at all understand him. 
 He begins to feel himself as one banished from his own 
 land, a dead ocean all around him, and not even a ripple 
 of applause breaking at his feet, not a sound of sympathy 
 falling on his ear. He is a man withal who ' writes and 
 speaks, and acts from the impulse of genius, and who 
 forgets its force when it is laid asleep,' weaker then than 
 common mortals, quickly roused to jealousy and suspicion, 
 the victim of distorted fancies ; feeling now as one chilled 
 by heartless neglect, and again wincing under acute pain 
 as one who has been scourged with scorpions. What is a 
 quiet dwelling ? what is a peaceful neighbourhood to him ? 
 Who is Hume that he should shape his cause, and arrange 
 for him in all things, as if he were incapable ? What is 
 the pension of the King of Britain to an illustrious French- 
 
152 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 man ? Hume, his professed friend, is a traitor, in secret 
 collusion with all his foes who mock at his calamities. 
 As for himself, he has been deluded, caught like a fox in 
 a trap, and appointed to death. If he has as much 
 strength in him as to make an effort, he will effect his 
 escape, and pass away from the gaze of the English 
 eye, and the control of English hands. Suddenly he 
 takes to flight, as if all were reality, his wrath blazing 
 specially against Hume. He flees from place to place ; 
 writes from a halting place to the general commanding 
 the forces to warn him that if he be secretly assassinated, 
 the deed will be found out ; but if he is allowed to escape, 
 and lands once more on French soil, he will be forgiving, 
 and will not publish an account of the wrongs perfidious 
 Albion has done to one of France's most notable sons. 
 
 To Hume the occurrence was matter of overwhelming 
 concern ; when Rousseau's angry denunciations came to 
 him, he was stung to the quick, and resented them with 
 fiery indignation as if they were the words of a sane man. 
 Even after the flight had been traced stage by stage, after 
 the extravagant fears of the wanderer were known, Hume 
 could not be calm — could not take the advice of Adam 
 Smith, to write nothing. He retorts with unrestrained 
 indignation to Rousseau. He is so disturbed that he 
 writes in all directions to friends at home, and to friends 
 in France, to vindicate himself from the charge of false- 
 heartedness. The large mass of correspondence in posses- 
 sion of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, shews how deeply 
 and sorely he was troubled, as if all that he held dear had 
 been suddenly wrenched from his grasp, leaving him a 
 suspected, if not a discredited man. One needs to re- 
 
DAVID HUME 153 
 
 member how deeply, and very tenderly, Hume had felt 
 in his sympathy for Rousseau ; and, on the other hand, 
 how much the occurrence had become the theme of 
 continued remark in society, British and French; in 
 order to understand the tumult of disturbed feeling 
 rushing through the heart of Hume. The quiet, 
 strong words of a true and sagacious friend were lost 
 upon him. He felt as one feels who thinks and feels 
 and repeats that he ' does well to be angry.' 
 
 The worst storm stills at length. The friends irritated 
 and alienated, if they could not be reconciled, grew calm, 
 and took in the situation. The enmity between them was 
 a bitter experience for both, leaving pitiful wreckage along 
 the shore. This is the expression of quieter reflection 
 which Rousseau penned : — ' My soul, wearied with so 
 many shocks, was in a condition of such profound 
 melancholy, that in all that passed I believe I com- 
 mitted many faults.' Hume proves equally ready to 
 acknowledge his regret to Adam Smith, on 17 th 
 October 1767, saying, after a review of the occur- 
 rence : — ' I may apologise for a step, which you, and 
 even myself, have been inclined sometimes to blame, 
 and always to regret' (M.S., R.S.E. — Burton, II., 380). 
 
 Hume once more, though only for a brief period, passed 
 into the service of Government. In February 1767, Mi 
 Conway nominated him as Under-Secretary, in which 
 office he continued untU the change of Government in 
 July 1768. Hume was assigned to the Northern 
 Province, under which were included our relations with 
 Prussia, Russia, Austria, Hamburg and Brussels. At 
 this time he must besides have had much to say as to 
 
154 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 Scotch affairs. Of this time he says : — ' My way of life 
 here is very uniform, and by no means disagreeable. I 
 pass all the forenoon in the Secretary's house from ten till 
 three, where there arrive from time to time messengers 
 that bring me all the secrets of the Kingdom, and indeed 
 of Europe, Asia, Africa and America.' ' My Chief is the 
 most reasonable, equal tempered, and gentleman-like man 
 imaginable.' With change of Government he passed from 
 his agreeable post, and prepared to return to Edinburgh, 
 there to spend the remainder of his days. He says Ln 
 My Own Life 'I returned to Edinburgh in 1769, very 
 opulent (for I possessed a revenue of _;^iooo a-year), 
 healthy, and though somewhat stricken in years, with the 
 prospect of enjoying long my ease, and of seeing the 
 increase of my reputation.' He was now nearly sixty 
 years of age. He entered again on occupancy of his 
 familiar home in St James's Court, in the Lawnmarket ; 
 and from his lofty perch, looking across the Firth of 
 Forth to the Fife Coast, he writes to Adam Smith : — 
 'I am glad to have come within sight of you, and to 
 have a view of Kirkcaldy from my windows.' He forth- 
 with settled quietly into his familiar ways ; shortly after- 
 wards, writing to Sir Gilbert Elliot, he says: — 'I have 
 been settled here two months, and am here body and 
 soul, without casting the least thought of regret to 
 London, or even to Paris.' He continued in the old 
 house for about a year, while the buUding of his new 
 house was being carried forward, after which he removed 
 to his home, at the head of St David Street, where he 
 spent his few remaining years — where, when inroads of 
 disease had brought him low, he had his last dinner- 
 
DAVID HUME 155 
 
 party of friends on the day after his return from Bath, 
 and where he died only a few weeks thereafter. These 
 closing years were spent very pleasantly in the midst of 
 the circle of familiar friends. He did not continue to 
 write letters so freely as he had been wont to do ; but 
 his interest in the whole circle of philosophical, historical, 
 and political questions continued lively and keen as in the 
 earlier years ; and he enjoyed, with all the well-known zest, 
 unrestrained talk and discussion among familiar friends. 
 
 In the early part of 1775, Hume began to own that 
 some sense of failing health had crept over him, and had 
 been growing for several years previously. Disease had 
 not yet assumed definite form, but constitutional predis- 
 position was preparing the way. He noted this as a warn- 
 ing of the coming end, and now began to include in his 
 plans arrangements preparatory. He placed himself under 
 the care of his medical adviser, Dr Black, who took a 
 serious view of his complaint ; he prepared instructions as 
 to disposal of his papers, specially expressing solicitude as 
 to the publication of the Dialogues Concerning Religion, 
 and carried through a considerable correspondence on this 
 matter, when his friend Adam Smith indicated reluctance 
 to pledge himself to carry out his purpose. 
 
 Between the spring of 1775 and that of the following 
 year the disease had made considerable progress. Hume 
 writes thus in My Own Life as to this period, consider- 
 ing his disorder had ' become mortal and incurable.' ' I 
 now reckon on 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 ; inso- 
 
156 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 much that were I to name the period of my Ufe 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 gaiety in company. I 
 consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by dying cuts 
 ofif only a few years of infirmities ; and though I see many 
 symptoms of my literary reputation's 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' 
 
 When in April 1776 symptoms of rapidly declining 
 strength had appeared, Dr Black wrote to Adam Smith, 
 who was then in London, where also John Home was, 
 urging him to come to Edinburgh. ' I wish, if possible, 
 to hasten your coming, that he may have the comfort of 
 your company so much the sooner.' Adam Ferguson 
 wrote to the same effect, saying, — ' David, I am afraid, 
 loses ground.' Smith and Home set ofif together about 
 the middle of April, hoping to meet the doctor's wishes, 
 and give some comfort in the closing days. At the same 
 time, a reverse course was planned by Hume, on account 
 of the suggestion that a visit to Bath might prove bene- 
 ficial. His Autobiography had been finished just two days, 
 when he wrote to Strahan, 20th April 1776, — 'My body 
 sets out to-morrow by post for London ; but whether it 
 will arrive there is somewhat uncertain. I shall travel by 
 slow journeys. Last Monday I sent off by the waggon, 
 directed to Mr Cadel, the four last volumes of my History. 
 I bring up my philosophical Pieces corrected, which will 
 be safe, whether I die by the road or not' {Letters to 
 Strahan, G. B. Hill, p. 319). 
 
DAVID HUME 157 
 
 Very fortunately for the invalid traveller, his two friends, 
 Adam Smith and John Home, met him at Morpeth, where 
 they saw ' his servant, Colin, at the gate of the inn.' They 
 had reached their friend sooner than they had expected, 
 and spent the night with him. Adam Smith there received 
 tidings of the serious illness of his mother, and had to 
 hasten forward to Kirkcaldy. John Home went with 
 Hume, going by Durham, Darlington, Boroughbridge, 
 Northallerton, and Ferrybridge. After resting at London, 
 he proceeded to Bath, where during the first four days he 
 seemed to improve, but he soon relapsed to the former 
 condition, when he resolved on the return journey, arriving 
 in Edinburgh in the beginning of July. 
 
 In August, Adam Smith writes, ' Mr Hume's magna- 
 nimity and firmness were such, that his most affectionate 
 friends knew that they hazarded nothing in talking or 
 writing to him as to a dying man, and that so far from 
 being hurt by this frankness, he was rather pleased and 
 flattered by it.' 
 
 Hume himself, five days before his death, writing to the 
 Comtesse de Boufflers, says : — ' I see death approach 
 gradually, without any anxiety or regret.' 
 
 On the 23rd August he writes to Smith, who had gone 
 to Kirkcaldy : — ' My Dearest Friend, — I am obliged to 
 make use of my nephew's hand in writing to you, as I 
 do not rise to-day. . . . 
 
 ' I go very fast to decline, and last night had a small 
 fever, which I hoped might put a quicker period to this 
 tedious illness ; but, unluckily, it has, in a great measure, 
 gone off. I cannot submit to your coming over here on 
 my account, as it is possible for me to see you so small a 
 
IS8 FAMOUS SCOTS 
 
 part of the day ; but Doctor Black can better inform you 
 concerning the degree of strength which may, from time 
 to time, remain with me. Adieu.' 
 
 The letter from the doctor is dated ' Edinburgh, 
 26th August 1776' (Burton, II., p. 515), and runs as 
 follows : — 
 
 ' Dear Sir, — Yesterday, about four o'clock, afternoon 
 Mr Hume expired. The near approach of his death 
 became evident in the night between Thursday and 
 Friday, when his disease became excessive, and soon 
 weakened him so much that he could no longer rise out 
 of his bed. . . . He never dropped the smallest expres- 
 sion of impatience ; but, when he had occasion to speak 
 to the people about him, always did it with affection and 
 tenderness. . . . When he became very weak, it cost him 
 an effort to speak ; and he died in such a happy com- 
 posure of mind that nothing could exceed it.' 
 
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON THE 
 "FAMOUS SCOTS" SERIES. 
 
 Of SIR WALTER SCOTT, by George Saintsbury, 
 
 The Pall Mall Gazette says :— 
 "Mr Saintsbary's miniature is a gem of its kind. . . . Mr Saintsbury's critique 
 of the Waverley Novels will, I venture to think, despite all that has been written 
 upon them, discover fresh beauties for their admirers. 
 
 Of THOMAS CARLYLE, by H. C. Macpherson, 
 The Literary World says : — 
 
 " One of thft very best little books on Carlyle yet written, far out-weighing in 
 value some more pretentious works with which we are familiar." 
 
 Of ALLAN RAMSAY, by Oliphant Smeaton, 
 The Scotsman says : — 
 "It is not a patchwork picture, but one in which the writer, taking genuine 
 interest in his subject, and bestowing conscientious pains on his task, has his 
 materials well in hand, and has used them to produce a portrait that is both life- 
 like and well balanced." 
 
 Of HUGH MILLER, by W. KEITH Leask, 
 
 The Expository Times says : — 
 " It is a right good book and a right true biography. . . . There is a very fine 
 sense of Hugh Miller's greatness as a man and a Scotsman ; there is also a fine 
 choice of language in making it ours." 
 
 Of JOHN KNOX, by A. Taylor Innes, 
 Mr Hay Fleming in the Bookman says : — 
 "A masterly delineation of those stirring times in Scotland, and of that famous 
 Scot who helped so much to shape them." 
 
 Of ROBERT BURNS, by Gabriel Setoun, 
 
 The New Age says :— 
 "It is the best thing on Bums we have yet had, almost as good as Carlyle's 
 Essay and the pamphlet published by Dr Nichol of Glasgow." 
 
 Of THE BALLAD ISTS, by John Geddie, 
 
 The Spectator says : — 
 "The author has certainly made a contribution of remarkable value to the 
 literary history of Scotland. We do not know of a book in which the subject has 
 been treated with deeper sympathy or out of a fuller knowledge." 
 
 Of RICHARD CAMERON, by Professor Herkless, 
 The Dundee Courier says : — 
 " In selecting Professor Herkless to prepare this addition to the ' Famous Scots 
 Series' of books, the publishers have made an excellent choice. The vigorous, 
 manly style adopted is exactly suited to the subject, and Richard Cameron is 
 presented to the reader in a manner as interesting as it is impressive. . . . 
 Professor Herkless has done remarkably well, and the portrait he has so cleverly 
 delineated of one of Scotland's most cherished heroes is one that will never fade." 
 
Press Opinions on "Famous Scots" Series — continued 
 
 Of SIR JAMES YOUNG SIMPSON, by EVE Blantyre 
 
 Simpson, 
 
 The Daily Chronicle says : — 
 " It is indeed long since we have read such a charmingly-written biography as 
 this little Life of the most typical and ' Famous Scot ' that his countrymen have 
 been proud of since the time of Sir Walter. . . . There is not a dull, irrelevant, or 
 superfluous page in all Miss Simpson's booklet, and she has performed the 
 biographer's chief duty — that of selection — with consummate skill and judgment." 
 
 Of THOMAS CHALMERS, by W. Garden Blaikie, 
 
 The Spectator says : — 
 '' The most notable feature of Professor Blaikle's book — and none could be more 
 commendable — is its perfect balance and proportion. In other words, justice is 
 done equally to the private and to the public life of Chalmers, if possible greater 
 justice than has been done by Mrs Oliphant." 
 
 Of JAMES BOSWELL, by W. Keith Leask, 
 
 The Morning Leader says : — 
 ' ' Mr W. K. Leask has approached the biographer of Johnson in the only possible 
 way by which a really interesting book could have been arrived at — by way of the 
 open mind. . . . The defence of Boswell in the concluding chapter of his delightful 
 study is one of the finest and most convincing passages that have recently appeared 
 in the field of British biography." 
 
 Of TOBIAS SMOLLETT, by Oliphant Smeaton, 
 
 The Weekly Scotsman says : — 
 
 " The book is written in a crisp and lively style. . . . The picture of the great 
 novelist is complete and lifelike. Not only does Mr Smeaton give a scholarly 
 sketch and estimate of Smollett's literary career, he constantly keeps the reader in 
 conscious touch and sympathy with his personality, and produces a portrait of the 
 man as a man which is not likely to be readily forgotten." 
 
 Of FLETCHER OF SALTOUN, by W. G. T. Omond, 
 
 The Leeds Mercury says : — 
 " Unmistakably the most interesting and complete story of the life of Fletcher of 
 Saltoun that has yet appeared. Mr Omond has had many facilities placed at his 
 disposal, and of these he has made excellent use." 
 
 Of THE BLACKWOOD GROUP, by Sir GEORGE DOUGLAS, 
 
 The Weekly Citizen says : — 
 "It need not be said that to everj'one interested in the literature of the first half 
 of the century, and especially to every Scotsman so interested, 'The Blackwood 
 Group' is a phrase abounding in promise. And really Sir George Douglas fulfils 
 the promise he tacitly makes in his title. He is intimately acquainted not only 
 with the books of the different members of the ' group,' but also with their environ- 
 ment, social and otherwise. Besides, he writes with sympathy as well as know- 
 ledge." 
 
 Of NORMAN MACLEOD, by John Wellwood, 
 
 The Star says : — 
 " A worthy addition to the ' Famous Scots Series ' is that of Norman Macleod, 
 the renowned minister of the Barony in Glasgow, and a man as typical of everj'- 
 thing generous and broadminded in the State Church in Scotland as Thomas 
 Guthrie was in the Free Churches. The biography is the work of John Wellwood, 
 who has approached it with proper appreciation of the robustness of the subject." 
 
\ ';■■ 
 
 ( 
 
 ■'39 
 
 HAH 28 1903 
 
 DEC 1 /^ 190? 
 
Cornell University Library 
 
 B1497 .C14 
 
 David Hume / by Henry Calderwood, 
 
 olin 
 
 3 1924 029 078 834