Transcriber's Notes: Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been
left as in the original. Words in italics in the original are surrounded
by _underscores_. A row of asterisks represents a thought break. Letters
superscripted in the original are surrounded by {braces}. Ellipses match
the original. A complete list of corrections follows the text.
The original has two different kinds of blockquotes: one uses a smaller
font than the main text, and the other has wider margins. In this text,
the blockquotes in a smaller font have wider margins, and the other
blockquotes have two blank lines before and after the quotation. An
explanation of the different kinds of quotations can be found at the end
of the "ADVERTISEMENT".
The Index that was printed at the end of Volume II. of this series has
been included at the end of this Volume for reference purposes.
LIFE AND
CORRESPONDENCE OF
DAVID HUME.
[Illustration: Bust of David Hume]
LIFE
AND
CORRESPONDENCE
OF
DAVID HUME.
FROM THE PAPERS BEQUEATHED BY HIS NEPHEW TO THE
ROYAL SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH; AND OTHER
ORIGINAL SOURCES.
BY JOHN HILL BURTON, ESQ.
ADVOCATE.
VOLUME I.
EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM TAIT, 107, PRINCE'S STREET.
MDCCCXLVI.
EDINBURGH:
Printed by WILLIAM TAIT, 107, Prince's Street.
TO THE PRESIDENT AND COUNCIL
OF
THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF EDINBURGH,
THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
BY
THEIR MOST OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVANT,
J. H. BURTON.
ADVERTISEMENT.
In this work, an attempt has been made to connect together a series of
original documents, by a narrative of events in the life of him to whom
they relate; an account of his literary labours; and a picture of his
character, according to the representations of it preserved by his
contemporaries. The scantiness of the resources at the command of
previous biographers, and the extent and variety of the new materials
now presented to the world, render unnecessary any other apology for the
present publication. How far these materials have been rightly used,
readers and critics must judge; but I may be perhaps excused for
offering a brief explanation of the spirit in which I desired to
undertake the task; and the responsibility I felt attached to the duty,
of ushering before the public, documents of so much importance to
literature.
The critic or biographer, who writes from materials already before the
public, may be excused if he give way to his prepossessions and
partialities, and limit his task to the representation of all that
justifies and supports them. If he have any misgivings, that, in
following the direction of his prepossessions, he may not have taken the
straight line of truth, he may be assured, that if the cause be one of
any interest, an advocate, having the same resources at his command,
will speedily appear on the other side. But when original manuscripts
are for the first time to be used, it is due to truth, and to the desire
of mankind to satisfy themselves about the real characters of great men,
that they should be so presented as to afford the means of impartially
estimating those to whom they relate. We possess many brilliant
Eulogiums of the leaders of our race--many vivid pictures of their
virtues and their vices--their greatness or their weakness. But if a
humbler, it is perhaps a no less useful task, to represent these
men--their character, their conduct, and the circumstances of their
life, precisely as they were; rejecting nothing that truly exemplifies
them, because it is beneath the dignity of biography, or at variance
with received notions of their character and the tendency of their
public conduct. The desire to have a closer view of the fountain head
whence the outward manifestations of a great intellect have sprung, is
but one of the many examples of man's spirit of inquiry from effects to
their causes; and the desire will not be gratified by reproducing the
object of inquiry in all the pomp and state of his public intercourse
with the world, and keeping the veil still closed upon his inner nature.
It is difficult to write with mere descriptive impartiality, and without
exhibiting any bias of opinion, on matters which are, at the same time,
the most deeply interesting to mankind, and the objects of their
strongest partialities. Though the task that was before me was simply to
describe, and never to controvert, I do not profess to have avoided all
indications of opinion in the departments of the work which have the
character of original authorship. I have the satisfaction, however, of
reflecting, that the documents, which are the real elements of value in
this work, are impartially presented to the reader, and that nothing is
omitted which seemed to bear distinctly on the character and conduct of
David Hume.
I now offer a few words in explanation of the nature of these original
documents. The late Baron Hume had collected together his uncle's
papers, consisting of the letters addressed to him, the few drafts or
copies he had left of letters written by himself, the letters addressed
_by_ him to his immediate relations, and apparently all the papers in
his handwriting, which had been left in the possession of the members of
his family. To these the Baron seems to have been enabled to add the
originals of many of the letters addressed by him to his intimate
friends, Adam Smith, Blair, Mure, and others. The design with which this
interesting collection was made, appears to have been that of preparing
a work of a similar description to the present; and it is a misfortune
to literature that this design was not accomplished. On the death of
Baron Hume, it was found that he had left this mass of papers at the
uncontrolled disposal of the Council of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.
This learned body, after having fully considered the course proper to be
adopted in these circumstances, determined that they would permit the
papers to be made use of by any person desirous to apply them to a
legitimate literary purpose, who might enjoy their confidence. Having
for some time indulged in a project of writing a life of Hume, postponed
from time to time, on account of the imperfect character of the
materials at my disposal, I applied to the Council of the Royal Society
for access to the Hume papers; and after having considered my
application with that deliberation which their duty to the public as
custodiers of these documents seemed to require, they acceded to my
request. The ordinary form of returning thanks for the privilege of
using papers in the possession of private parties, appears not to be
applicable to this occasion; and I look on the concession of the Council
as conferring on me an honour, which is felt to be all the greater, that
it was bestowed in the conscientious discharge of a public duty.
The Hume papers, besides a manuscript of the "Dialogues on Natural
Religion," and of a portion of the History, fill seven quarto volumes of
various thickness, and two thin folios. In having so large a mass of
private and confidential correspondence committed to their charge, the
Council naturally felt that they would be neglecting their duty, if they
did not keep in view the possibility that there might be in the
collection, allusions to the domestic conduct or private affairs of
persons whose relations are still living; and that good taste, and a
kind consideration for private feelings should prevent the accidental
publication of such passages. On inspection, less of this description of
matter was found than so large a mass of private documents might be
supposed to contain. There is no passage which I have felt any
inclination to print, as being likely to afford interest to the reader,
of which the use has been denied me; and I can therefore say that I have
had in all respects full and unlimited access to this valuable
collection. Before leaving this matter, I take the opportunity of
returning my thanks for the kind and polite attention I have received
from those gentlemen of the Council, on whom the arrangements for my
getting access to these papers, imposed no little labour and sacrifice
of valuable time.
A rumour has obtained currency regarding the contents of these papers,
which seems to demand notice on the present occasion.
It is stated in _The Quarterly Review_,[xi:1] that "those who have
examined the Hume papers--which we know only by report--speak highly of
their interest, but add, that they furnish painful disclosures
concerning the opinions then prevailing amongst the clergy of the
northern metropolis: distinguished ministers of the gospel encouraging
the scoffs of their familiar friend, the author of 'the Essay upon
Miracles;' and echoing the blasphemies of their associate, the author of
the 'Essay upon Suicide!'" I have the pleasing task of removing the
painful feelings which, as this writer justly observes, must attend the
belief in such a rumour, by saying that I could not find it justified
by a single sentence in the letters of the Scottish clergy contained in
these papers, or in any other documents that have passed under my eye. I
make this statement as an act of simple justice to the memory of men to
whose character, being a member of a different church, I have no
partisan attachment: and I may add that, in the whole course of my
pretty extensive researches in connexion with Hume and his friends, I
found no reason for believing that letters containing evidence of any
such frightful duplicity ever existed.
Among these papers, a variety of letters, chiefly from eminent
foreigners, though interesting in themselves, were entitled to no place
in the body of this work, as illustrative of the life and character of
Hume. These I had intended to print in an appendix, believing that,
though not directly connected with my own project, the lovers of
literature would not readily excuse me for neglecting the opportunity
afforded by my access to these papers, for adding to the stock of the
letters of celebrated men. But the work, according to its original scope
and design, continuing to increase under my hands, I found that if it
contained the documents specially referred to in the text, its bulk
would be sufficiently extended, and I have determined to let the other
papers here alluded to follow in a separate volume, which will contain
letters to Hume from D'Alembert, Turgot, Diderot, Helvétius, Franklin,
Walpole, and other distinguished persons.
The reader will find that many original documents printed in this
collection have been obtained from other sources than the Hume papers.
My acknowledgments are particularly due to the Earl of Minto, for the
liberality with which he allowed me the uncontrolled use of the large
and valuable collection of correspondence between Hume and Sir Gilbert
Elliot. For the letters in the Kilravock collection I am indebted to
Cosmo Innes, Esq., sheriff of Morayshire; and I obtained access to those
addressed to Colonel Edmondstoune, through the polite intervention of
George Dundas, Esq., sheriff of Selkirkshire. I am obliged to the
kindness of Lord Murray for much assistance in obtaining materials and
information for this work; and to Robert Chambers, Esq., who has been
accustomed from time to time, to preserve such letters and other
documents connected with Scottish biography, as came under his notice, I
have to offer my thanks for the whole of his collections regarding Hume,
which he generously transferred to me.
In the use of printed books, where the Advocates' Library, to which I
have professional access, has failed me, I have found the facilities for
consulting the select and well arranged collection of the Writers to the
Signet of great service.
I owe acknowledgments to many friends for useful advice in the conduct
of the work. To one especially, who, after having long occupied a
distinguished place in the literature of his country, permits his
friends still to enjoy the social exercise of those intellectual
qualities that have delighted the world, I am indebted for such critical
counsel as no other could have given, and few would have had the
considerate kindness to bestow, were they able.
Of the two portraits engraved for this work, that which will, probably,
most strikingly attract attention, is taken from a bust, of coarse and
unartistic workmanship, but bearing all the marks of a genuine likeness.
It was moulded by a country artist, at the desire of Hume's esteemed
friend, Professor Ferguson; and I am under obligations to his son, Sir
Adam, for the privilege of using it on this occasion, and to Sir George
Mackenzie, for having kindly mentioned its existence, and exerted
himself in its recovery, after it had been long lost sight of. The
medallion, from which the other portrait is taken, is in the possession
of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq., by whom I was presented with the
engraved plate, from which the fac simile of a letter, addressed by Hume
to his collateral ancestor, is printed.
_Edinburgh, February, 1846._
*.* It may be right to explain, that the two sizes of type,
used in this work, were first adopted with the design of
presenting all letters addressed to Hume, all extracts, and
all letters from him with which the public is already
familiar, in the smaller type, in order that the reader coming
to a document with which he is already acquainted, might see
at once where it ends. This arrangement was accidentally
broken through, several letters having been printed in the
larger that should have appeared in the smaller type.
FOOTNOTES:
[xi:1] No. LXXIII. p. 555.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME FIRST.
ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. I.
Portrait of Hume from a Medallion, _Frontispiece_.
Fac simile of a letter by Hume, Page 178
CHAPTER I.
1711-1734. ÆT. 0-23.
Birth--Parentage--His own account of his Ancestors--Local
associations of Ninewells--Education--Studies--Early
Correspondence--The Ramsays--Specimen of his early Writings--
Essay on Chivalry--Why he deserted the Law--Early ambition to
found a School of Philosophy--Letter to a Physician describing
his studies and habits--Criticism on the Letter--Supposition
that it was addressed to Dr. Cheyne--Hume goes to Bristol. 1
CHAPTER II.
1734-1739. ÆT. 23-27.
Hume leaves Bristol for France--Paris--Miracles at the Tomb of
the Abbé Paris--Rheims--La Flêche--Associations with the Abbé
Pluche and Des Cartes--Observations on French Society and
Manners --Story of La Roche--Return to Britain--Correspondence
with Henry Home--Publication of the first and second volume of
the Treatise of Human Nature--Character of that Work--Its
influence on Mental Philosophy. 48
CHAPTER III.
1739-1741. ÆT. 27-29.
Letters to his friends after the publication of the first and
second volume of the Treatise--Returns to Scotland--Reception
of his Book--Criticism in "The Works of the Learned"--Charge
against Hume of assaulting the publisher--Correspondence with
Francis Hutcheson--Seeks a situation--Connexion with Adam
Smith--Publication of the third volume of the Treatise--
Account of it--Hume's notes of his reading--Extracts from his
Note-books. 105
CHAPTER IV.
1741-1745. ÆT. 30-34.
Publication of the Essays, Moral and Political--Their
Character--Correspondence with Home and Hutcheson--Hume's
Remarks on Hutcheson's System--Education and Accomplishments
of the Scottish Gentry--Hume's Intercourse with Mure of
Caldwell and Oswald of Dunnikier--Opinions on a Sermon by Dr.
Leechman--Attempts to succeed Dr. Pringle in the Chair of Moral
Philosophy in Edinburgh. 136
CHAPTER V.
1745-1747. ÆT. 34-36.
Hume's Residence with the Marquis of Annandale--His Predecessor
Colonel Forrester--Correspondence with Sir James Johnstone and
Mr. Sharp of Hoddam--Quarrel with Captain Vincent--Estimate of
his Conduct, and Inquiry into the Circumstances in which he was
placed--Appointed Secretary to General St. Clair--Accompanies
the expedition against the Court of France as Judge-Advocate--
Gives an Account of the Attack on Port L'Orient--A tragic
Incident. 170
CHAPTER VI.
1746-1748. ÆT. 35-37.
Hume returns to Ninewells--His domestic Position--His attempts
in Poetry--Inquiry as to his Sentimentalism--Takes an interest
in Politics--Appointed Secretary to General St. Clair on his
mission to Turin--His journal of his Tour--Arrival in Holland--
Rotterdam--The Hague--Breda--The War--French Soldiers--Nimeguen
--Cologne--Bonn--The Rhine and its scenery--Coblentz--Wiesbaden
--Frankfurt--Battle of Dettingen--Wurzburg--Ratisbon--Descent
of the Danube--Observations on Germany--Vienna--The Emperor and
Empress Queen--Styria--Carinthia--The Tyrol--Mantua--Cremona--
Turin. 225
CHAPTER VII.
1748-1751. ÆT. 37-40.
Publication of the "Inquiry concerning Human Understanding"--
Nature of that Work--Doctrine of Necessity--Observations on
Miracles--New Edition of the "Essays, Moral and Political"--
Reception of the new Publications--Return Home--His Mother's
Death--Her Talents and Character--Correspondence with Dr.
Clephane--Earthquakes--Correspondence with Montesquieu--
Practical jokes in connexion with the Westminster Election--
John Home--The Bellman's Petition. 271
CHAPTER VIII.
1751-1752. ÆT. 40-41.
Sir Gilbert Elliot--Hume's intimacy with him--Their Philosophical
Correspondence--Dialogues on Natural Religion--Residence in
Edinburgh--Jack's Land--Publication of the "Inquiry concerning
the Principles of Morals"--The Utilitarian Theory--Attempt to
obtain the Chair of Moral Philosophy in Glasgow--Competition
with Burke--Publication of the "Political Discourses"--The
foundation of Political Economy--French Translations. 319
CHAPTER IX.
1752-1755. ÆT. 41-44.
Appointment as keeper of the Advocates' Library--His Duties--
Commences the History of England--Correspondence with Adam
Smith and others on the History--Generosity to Blacklock
the Poet--Quarrel with the Faculty of Advocates--Publication of
the First Volume of the History--Its reception--Continues the
History--Controversial and Polemical attacks--Attempt to subject
him, along with Kames, to the Discipline of Ecclesiastical
Courts--The leader of the attack--Home's "Douglas"--The first
Edinburgh Review. 367
APPENDIX.
Fragments of a Paper in Hume's handwriting, describing the
Descent on the Coast of Brittany, in 1746, and the causes of
its failure. 441
Letters from Montesquieu to Hume, 456
---- the Abbé le Blanc to Hume, 458
Documents relating to the Poems of Ossian, 462
Essay on the Genuineness of the Poems, 471
THE LIFE
OF
DAVID HUME.
CHAPTER I.
1711-1734. ÆT. 0-23.
Birth--Parentage--His own account of his Ancestors--Local
associations of Ninewells--Education--Studies--Early
Correspondence--The Ramsays--Specimen of his early Writings--
Essay on Chivalry--Why he deserted the Law--Early ambition to
found a School of Philosophy--Letter to a Physician describing
his studies and habits--Criticism on the Letter--Supposition
that it was addressed to Dr. Cheyne--Hume goes to Bristol.
David Hume was born at Edinburgh, on the 26th of April,[1:1] 1711. He
was the second son of Joseph Hume, or Home, proprietor of the estate of
Ninewells, in the parish of Chirnside, in Berwickshire. His mother was a
daughter of Sir David Falconer of Newton, who filled the office of Lord
President of the Court of Session from 1682 to 1685, and is known to
lawyers as the collector of a series of decisions of the Court of
Session, published in 1701. His son, the brother of Hume's mother,
succeeded to the barony of Halkerton in 1727. Mr. Hume the elder, was a
member of the Faculty of Advocates.[1:2] He appears, however, if he
ever intended to follow the legal profession as a means of livelihood,
to have early given up that view, and to have lived, as his eldest son
John afterwards did, the life of a retired country gentleman.
It is an established rule, that all biographical attempts of
considerable length, shall contain some genealogical inquiry regarding
the family of their subject. The present writer is relieved both of the
labour of such an investigation, and the responsibility of adjusting it
to the appropriate bounds, by being able to print a letter in which the
philosopher has himself exhibited the results of an inquiry into the
subject.
DAVID HUME _to_ ALEXANDER HOME _of Whitfield_.
"_Edinburgh, 12th April, 1758._
"DEAR SIR,--I was told by Mrs. Home, when she was in town, that you
intended to make some researches into our family, in order to give them
to Mr. Douglas, who must insert them, or the substance of them, into his
account of the Scottish nobility.[2:1] I think that your purpose is very
laudable, and is very obliging to us all; and for this reason I shall
inform you of what I know of the matter. These hints will at least serve
to point out to you more authentic documents.
"My brother has no very ancient charters: the oldest he has, are some
charters of the lands of Horndean. There he is designated Home, or Hume,
of Ninewells. The oldest charters of Ninewells are lost. It was always
a tradition in our family, that we were descended from Lord Home, in
this manner. Lord Home gave to his younger son the lands of Tinningham,
East Lothian. This gentleman proved a spendthrift and dissipated his
estate, upon which Lord Home provided his grandchild, or nephew, in the
lands of Ninewells as a patrimony. This, probably, is the reason why, in
all the books of heraldry, we are styled to be cadets of Tinningham; and
Tinningham was undoubtedly a cadet of Home. I was told by my grand-aunt,
Mrs. Sinclair of Hermiston, that Charles earl of Home told her, that he
had been looking over some old papers of the family, where the Lord Home
designs Home of Ninewells either his grandson or nephew, I do not
precisely remember which.
"The late Sir James Home of Blackadder showed me a paper, which he
himself had copied a few days before from a gravestone in the churchyard
of Hutton: the words were these--'Here lies John Home of Bell, son of
John Home of Ninewells, son of John Home of Tinningham, son of John Lord
Home, founder of Dunglas.'
"I find that this Lord Home, founder of Dunglas, was the very person
whom Godscroft says went over to France with the Douglas, and was father
to Tinningham: so thus the two stories tally exactly. He was killed
either in the battle of Crevant or Verneuil, gained by the Duke of
Bedford, the regent, against the French. Douglas fell in the same
battle. I think it was the battle of Verneuil. All the French and
English histories, as well as the Scotch, contain this fact. This Lord
Home was your ancestor, and ours, lived in the time of James the First
and Second of Scotland, Henrys the Fifth and Sixth of England.
"I have asked old Bell the descent of his family. He said he was really
sprung from Ninewells, but that the lands fell to an heiress who married
a brother of Polwarth's.
"By Godscroft's account, Tinningham was the third son of Home in the
same generation that Wedderburn was the second, so that the difference
of antiquity is nothing, or very inconsiderable.
"The readiest way of vouching these facts would be for you to take a
jaunt to the churchyard of Hutton, and inquire for Bell's monument, and
see whether the inscription be not obliterated; for it is above
twenty-five years ago that I saw the paper in Sir James Home's hand, and
he told us, at that time, that the inscription was somewhat difficult to
be read. If it be still legible it would be very well done to take a
copy of it in some authentic manner, and transmit it to Mr. Douglas, to
be inserted in his volume. If it be utterly effaced, the next, but most
difficult task would be to search for the paper above-mentioned in the
family of Home: it must be some time about the year 1440 or 1450. If
both these means fail, we must rest upon the tradition.
"I am not of the opinion of some, that these matters are altogether to
be slighted. Though we should pretend to be wiser than our ancestors,
yet it is arrogant to pretend that we are wiser than the other nations
of Europe, who, all of them, except perhaps the English, make great
account of their family descent. I doubt that our morals have not much
improved since we began to think riches the sole thing worth
regarding.[4:1]
"If I were in the country I should be glad to attend you to Hutton, in
order to make the inquiry I propose. I doubt whether my brother will
think of doing it: he has such an extreme aversion to every thing that
savours of vanity, that he would not willingly expose himself to
censure; but this is a justice that one owes to their posterity, for we
are not certain that these matters will be always so little regarded.
"I shall farther observe to you, that the Lord Home, founder of Dunglas,
married the heiress of that family, of the name of Pepdie, and from her
we always bear the Pepingos in our arms.
"I find in Hall's Chronicle that the Earl of Surrey, in an inroad upon
the Merse, made during the reign of Henry the Eighth, after the battle
of Flouden, destroyed the castles of Hedderburn, West Nisgate, and
Blackadder, and the towers of East Nisgate, and Winwalls. The names, you
see, are somewhat disfigured; but I cannot doubt but he means Nisbet and
Ninewells: the situation of the places leads us to that conjecture.
"I have reason to believe, notwithstanding the fact, as Ninewells lay
very near Berwick, our ancestors commonly paid contributions to the
governor of that place, and abstained from hostilities and were
prevented from ravages. There is, in Hayne's State Papers, a very
particular account of the ravages committed by an inroad of the English,
during the minority of Queen Mary.[6:1] Not a village, scarce a single
house in the Merse, but what is mentioned as burnt or overthrown, till
you come to Whitwater. East of the river, there was not one destroyed.
This reason will perhaps explain why, in none of the histories of that
time, even the more particular, there is any mention made of our
ancestors; while we meet with Wedderburn, Aiton, Manderston,
Cowdenknows, Sprot, and other cadets of Home.
"I have learned from my mother, that my father, in a lawsuit with
Hilton, claimed an old apprizing upon the lands of Hutton-Hall, upon
which there had been no deed done for 140 years. Hilton thought that it
must necessarily be expired; but my father was able to prove that,
during that whole time there had not been forty years of majority in the
family. He died soon after, and left my mother very young; so that there
was near 160 years during which there was not forty years of
majority.[6:2] Now we are upon this subject, I shall just mention to
you a trifle, with regard to the spelling of our name. The practice of
spelling Hume is by far the most ancient and most general till about the
Restoration, when it became common to spell Home contrary to the
pronunciation. Our name is frequently mentioned in Rymer's Foedera,
and always spelt Hume. I find a subscription of Lord Hume in the memoirs
of the Sidney family, where it is spelt as I do at present. These are a
few of the numberless authorities on this head.
"I wish the materials I give you were more numerous and more
satisfactory; but such as they are, I am glad to have communicated them
to you.--I am," &c.[7:1]
A competent authority in such matters gives the following partly
heraldic, partly topographical account of the Humes and their
territory:--
"Hume of Ninewells, the family of the great historian, bore 'Vert a lion
rampant, argent, within a bordure or, charged with _nine wells_, or
springs, barry-wavy and argent.'
"The estate of Ninewells is so named from a cluster of springs of that
number. Their situation is picturesque. They burst forth from a gentle
declivity in front of the mansion, which has on each side a semicircular
rising bank, covered with fine timber, and fall, after a short time,
into the bed of the river Whitewater, which forms a boundary in the
front. These springs, as descriptive of their property, were assigned to
the Humes of this place, as a difference in arms from the chief of their
house."[8:1]
The scenes amidst which Hume passed his boyhood, and many of the years
of his later life, have subsequently, in the light of a national
literature, become a classic land, visited by strangers, with the same
feeling with which Hume himself trod the soil of Mantua. In his own
days, the elements of this literature were no less in existence; but it
was not part of his mental character to find any pleasing associations
in spots, remarkable only for the warlike or adventurous achievements
they had witnessed. Intellect was the material on which his genius
worked: with it were all his associations and sympathies; and what had
not been adorned by the feats of the mind had no charm in his eye. Had
he been a stranger of another land, visiting at the present, or some
later day, the scenes of the Lay and of Marmion, they would, without
doubt, like the land of Virgil, have lit in his mind some sympathetic
glow; but the scenes illustrated solely by deeds of barbarous warfare,
and by a rude illiterate minstrelsy, had nothing in them to rouse a
mind, which was yet far from being destitute of its own peculiar
enthusiasm. He had often, in his history, to mention great historical
events that had taken place in the immediate vicinity of his paternal
residence, and in places to which he could hardly have escaped, if he
did not court occasional visits. About six miles from Ninewells, stands
Norham castle. Three or four miles farther off, are Twisel bridge, where
Surrey crossed the Till to engage the Scots, and the other localities
connected with the battle of Flodden. In the same neighbourhood is
Holiwell Haugh, where Edward I. met the Scottish nobility, when he
professed himself to be the arbiter of the disputes between Bruce and
Baliol. In his notices of these spots, in connexion with the historical
events which he describes, he betrays no symptom of having passed many
of his youthful days in their vicinity, but is as cold and general as
when he describes Agincourt or Marston Moor; and it may safely be said,
that in none of his historical or philosophical writings does any
expression used by him, unless in those cases where a Scoticism has
escaped his vigilance, betray either the district or the country of his
origin.[9:1] Hume tells us, in his short autobiography, "My family was
not rich, and being myself a younger brother, my patrimony, according to
the mode of my country, was of course very slender. My father, who
passed for a man of parts, died when I was an infant, leaving me, with
an elder brother and a sister, under the care of our mother, a woman of
singular merit, who, though young and handsome, devoted herself entirely
to the rearing and education of her children." He says no more of his
education, than that he "passed through the ordinary course of education
with success." In a document which will be immediately quoted at length,
we find him speaking of having received the usual college education of
Scotland, which terminates when the student is fourteen or fifteen years
old. It is probable that he studied at the University of Edinburgh, in
the matriculation book of which the name of "David Home" appears, as
intrant of the class of William Scott, Professor of Greek, on 27th
February, 1723. Holding the year to commence on 1st January, which was
then the practice in Scotland, though not in England, he would be at
that time nearly twelve years old. The name does not appear in any of
the subsequent matriculation lists: it was probably not then the
practice for the student to be entered more than once, at the
commencement of his curriculum; and neither the name of Hume, nor of
Home, occurs in the list of graduates.
Of his method of studying, and of his habits of life, after he left the
university, as of his literary aspirations and projects, we fortunately
possess some curious notices in his correspondence. The earliest letter
written by Hume, known to be extant, is in a scroll which has been
apparently preserved by himself. It is addressed to Michael Ramsay, with
whom it will be seen, from the letters quoted in the course of this
work, that the friendship formed, when both were young, remained
uninterrupted and vigorous during their mature years. I have been unable
to discover any thing of the history of this Michael Ramsay, beyond what
may be gathered from the internal evidence supplied by the
correspondence. He must have been destined for the English Church, but
he appears not to have taken orders; as in a letter from Hume, which,
though undated, must have been written at an advanced period of both
their lives, he is addressed "Michael Ramsay, Esq." Writing on 5th June,
1764, he says to Hume, "I continue in the old wandering way in which I
have passed so much of my life, and in which it is likely I shall end
it." He appears to have had many connexions well to do in the world, and
to have died before the year 1779, leaving his papers in the possession
of a nephew having his own Christian name of Michael; which was also, it
may be observed, the name of the Chevalier Ramsay, of whom Hume's
correspondent was perhaps a relation.[12:1]
HUME _to_ MICHAEL RAMSAY.
"_July 4, 1727._
"D{R} M.--I received all the books you writ of, and your Milton among
the rest. When I saw it, I perceived there was a difference betwixt
preaching and practising: you accuse me of niceness, and yet practise it
most egregiously yourself. What was the necessity of sending your
Milton, which I knew you were so fond of? Why, I lent your's and can't
get it. But would you not, in the same manner, have lent your own? Yes.
Then, why this ceremony and good breeding? I write all this to show you
how easily any action may be brought to bear the countenance of a fault.
You may justify yourself very well, by saying it was kindness; and I am
satisfied with it, and thank you for it. So, in the same manner, I may
justify myself from your reproofs. You say that I would not send in my
papers, because they were not polished nor brought to any form: which
you say is nicety. But was it not reasonable? Would you have me send in
my loose incorrect thoughts? Were such worth the transcribing? All the
progress that I made is but drawing the outlines, on loose bits of
paper: here a hint of a passion; there a phenomenon in the mind
accounted for: in another the alteration of these accounts; sometimes a
remark upon an author I have been reading; and none of them worth to any
body, and I believe scarce to myself. The only design I had of
mentioning any of them at all, was to see what you would have said of
your own, whether they were of the same kind, and if you would send any;
and I have got my end, for you have given a most satisfactory reason for
not communicating them, by promising they shall be told _vivâ voce_--a
much better way indeed, and in which I promise myself much satisfaction;
for the free conversation of a friend is what I would prefer to any
entertainment. Just now I am entirely confined to myself and library for
diversion since we parted.
----ea sola voluptus,
Solamenque mali--[14:1]
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; for what will more surely engrave
upon my mind a Tusculan disputation of Cicero's De Ægritudine Lenienda,
than an eclogue or georgick of Virgil's? The philosopher's wise man and
the poet's husbandman agree in peace of mind, in a liberty and
independency on fortune, and contempt of riches, power, and glory. Every
thing is placid and quiet in both: nothing perturbed or disordered.
At secura quies, et nescia fallere vita----
Speluncæ, vivique laci; at frigida Tempe,
Mugitusque boum, mollesque sub arbore somnos
Non absint.[14:2]
"These lines will, in my opinion, come nothing short of the instruction
of the finest sentence in Cicero: and is more to me, as Virgil's life is
more the subject of my ambition, being what I can apprehend to be more
within my power. For the perfectly wise man, that outbraves fortune, is
surely greater than the husbandman who slips by her; and, indeed, this
pastoral and saturnian happiness I have in a great measure come at just
now. I live like a king, pretty much by myself, neither full of action
nor perturbation,--_molles somnos_. This state, however, I can foresee
is not to be relied on. My peace of mind is not sufficiently confirmed
by philosophy to withstand the blows of fortune. This greatness and
elevation of soul is to be found only in study and contemplation--this
can alone teach us to look down on human accidents. You must allow [me]
to talk thus, like a philosopher: 'tis a subject 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: he thinks it neither cheap nor dear. It cost six guineas, but
will be sold cheaper against winter, which he is not resolved on as yet.
It has no fault, but bogles a little. It is tolerably well favoured, and
paces naturally. Mamma bids me tell you, that Sir John Home is not going
to town; but he saw Eccles in the country, who says he will do nothing
in that affair, for he is only taking off old adjudications, so it is
needless to let him see the papers. He desires you would trouble
yourself to inquire about the Earle's affairs, and advise us what to do
in this affair.
"If it were not breaking the formal rule of connexions I have prescribed
myself in this letter--and it did not seem unnatural to raise myself
from so low affairs as horses and papers, to so high and elevate things
as books and study--I would tell you that I read some of Longinus
already, and that I am mightily delighted with him. I think he does
really answer the character of being the great sublime he describes. He
delivers his precepts with such force, as if he were enchanted with the
subject; and is himself an author that may be cited for an example to
his own rules, by any one who shall be so adventurous as to write upon
his subject."[16:1]
This is certainly a remarkable letter to have been written by a youth
little more than sixteen years old. If it had been written by one less
distinguished by the originality of his mature intellect, it might be
looked upon as one of those illustrations of the faculty of imitation,
for which some young persons display peculiar powers; but its grave and
high-toned philosophical feeling is evidently no echo of other people's
words, but the deeply felt sentiments of the writer. In some measure,
perhaps, he deceived himself in believing that he had attuned his mind
to pastoral simplicity, and had weeded it of all ambitious longings. If
he had a sympathy with Virgil, it was not, as he has represented, with
the poet's ideas of life, but with his realizations of it; not with the
quiet sphere of a retired and unnoticed existence, but with the lustre
of a well-earned fame. Through the whole, indeed, of the memorials of
Hume's early feelings, we find the traces of a bold and far-stretching
literary ambition; and though he believed that he had seared his mind to
ordinary human influences, it was because this one had become so
engrossing as to overwhelm all others. "I was seized very early," he
tells us, in his 'own life,' "with a passion for literature, which has
been the ruling passion of my life, and a great source of my
enjoyments." Joined to this impulse, we find a practical philosophy
partaking far more of the stoical than of that sceptical school with
which his metaphysical writings have identified him; a morality of
self-sacrifice and endurance, for the accomplishment of great ends. In
whatever light we may view his speculative opinions, we gather from the
habits of his life, and from the indications we possess of his passing
thoughts, that he devotedly acted up to the principle, that his genius
and power of application should be laid out with the greatest prospect
of permanent advantage to mankind. He was an economist of all his
talents from early youth: no memoir of a literary man presents a more
cautious and vigilant husbandry of the mental powers and acquirements.
There is no instance of a man of genius who has wasted less in idleness
or in unavailing pursuits. Money was not his object, nor was temporary
fame; though, of the means of independent livelihood, and a good repute
among men, he never lost sight: but his ruling object of ambition,
pursued in poverty and riches, in health and sickness, in laborious
obscurity and amidst the blaze of fame, was to establish a permanent
name, resting on the foundation of literary achievements, likely to live
as long as human thought endured, and mental philosophy was studied.
There is among Hume's papers a fragment of "An Historical Essay on
Chivalry and Modern Honour." It is evidently a clean copy from a
corrected scrawl, written with great precision and neatness, and no
despicable specimen of caligraphy. From the pains that appear to have
been bestowed on the penmanship, and from many rhetorical defects and
blemishes which do not appear in any of his published works, it may be
inferred that this is a production of very early years, and properly
applicable to this period of his life; although its matured thought, and
clear systematic analysis, might, in other circumstances, have indicated
it as the fruit of a mind long and carefully cultivated. It is scarcely
necessary to frame an excuse for quoting such a document on the present
occasion. It could not be legitimately incorporated with his works;
because, whatever is given to the public in that shape, is presumed to
consist of those productions which the author himself, or those entitled
to represent him, have thought fit to lay before the public, as the
efforts by which the full stretch and compass of his intellectual powers
are to be tested. From such collections, the editor who performs his
functions with a kind and respectful consideration for the reputation of
the illustrious dead, will exclude whatever is characterized by the
crudeness of youth, or the feebleness of superannuation. To the
reputation of Hume it would be peculiarly unjust to publish among his
acknowledged and printed works, any productions of extreme youth;
because, from his earliest years to an advanced period of his life, his
mind was characterized by constant improvement, and he was every now and
then reaching a point from which he looked back with regret and
disapprobation at the efforts of earlier years.
But in a biographical work, where the chief object is the tracing the
history of the author's mind, not the representation of its matured
efforts, these early specimens of budding genius have their legitimate
place, and receive that charitable consideration for the circumstances
in which they were written, which their author's reputation demands.
The essay commences with a sketch of the decline of virtue, and the
prevalence of luxury among the Romans; and describes their possession of
the arts which they had learned in their better days, when not seconded
by bravery and enterprise, as furnishing, like the fine clothes of a
soldier, a temptation to hostile cupidity. He then represents the
conquerors adapting themselves, after the manner peculiar to their own
barbarous state, to the habits and ideas of the civilized people whom
they had subdued. He represents the conquered people as sunk in
indolence, but imperfectly preserving the arts and elegancies
transmitted to them by their ancestors; and the conquerors full of
energy and activity, as the sources of whatever impulse was thereafter
given to thought or action. They "came with freshness and alacrity to
the business; and being encouraged both by the novelty of these subjects
and by the success of their arms, would naturally ingraft some new kind
of fruit on the ancient stock." He then proceeds with the following
train of reflections:--
"'Tis observable of the human mind, that when it is smit with any idea
of merit or perfection beyond what its faculties can attain, and in the
pursuit of which it uses not reason and experience for its guide, it
knows no mean, but as it gives the rein, and even adds the spur, to
every florid conceit or fancy, runs in a moment quite wide of nature.
Thus we find, when, without discretion, it indulges its devote terrors,
that working in such fairy-ground, it quickly buries itself in its own
whimsies and chimeras, and raises up to itself a new set of passions,
affections, desires, objects, and, in short, a perfectly new world of
its own, inhabited by different beings, and regulated by different laws
from this of ours. In this new world 'tis so possessed that it can
endure no interruption from the old; but as nature is apt still on every
occasion to recall it thither, it must undermine it by art, and retiring
altogether from the commerce of mankind, if it be so bent upon its
religious exercise, from the mystic, by an easy transition, degenerate
into the hermite. The same thing is observable in philosophy, which
though it cannot produce a different world in which we may wander, makes
us act in this as if we were different beings from the rest of mankind;
at least makes us frame to ourselves, though we cannot execute them,
rules of conduct different from those which are set to us by nature. No
engine can supply the place of wings, and make us fly, though the
imagination of such a one may make us stretch and strain and elevate
ourselves upon our tiptoes. And in this case of an imagined merit, the
farther our chimeras hurry us from nature, and the practice of the
world, the better pleased we are, as valuing ourselves upon the
singularity of our notions, and thinking we depart from the rest of
mankind only by flying above them. Where there is none we excel, we are
apt to think we have no excellency; and self-conceit makes us take every
singularity for an excellency.
"When, therefore, these barbarians came first to the relish of some
degree of virtue and politeness beyond what they had ever before been
acquainted with, their minds would necessarily stretch themselves into
some vast conceptions of things, which, not being corrected by
sufficient judgment and experience, must be empty and unsolid. Those who
had first bred these conceptions in them could not assist them in their
birth, as the Grecians did the Romans; but being themselves scarce half
civilized, would be rather apt to entertain any extravagant misshapen
conceit of their conquerors, than able to lick it into any form. 'Twas
thus that that monster of romantic chivalry, or knight-errantry, by the
necessary operation of the principles of human nature, was brought into
the world; and it is remarkable that it descended from the Moors and
Arabians, who, learning somewhat of the Roman civility from the province
they conquered, and being themselves a southern people, which are
commonly observed to be more quick and inventive than the northern, were
the first who fell upon this vein of achievement. When it was once
broken upon it ran like wild-fire over all the nations of Europe, who,
being in the same situation with these nations, kindled with the least
spark.
"What kind of monstrous birth this of chivalry must prove, we may learn
from considering the different revolutions in the arts, particularly in
architecture, and comparing the Gothic with the Grecian models of it.
The one are plain, simple, and regular, but withal majestic and
beautiful, which when these barbarians unskilfully imitated, they ran
into a wild profusion of ornaments, and by their rude embellishments
departed far from nature and a just simplicity. They were struck with
the beauties of the ancient buildings; but, ignorant how to preserve a
just mean, and giving an unbounded liberty to their fancy in heaping
ornament upon ornament, they made the whole a heap of confusion and
irregularity. For the same reason, when they would rear up a new scheme
of manners, or heroism, it must be strangely overcharged with ornaments,
and no part exempt from their unskilful refinements; and this we find to
have been actually the case, as may be proven by running over the
several parts of it."
He then inquires into the reason, why courage is the principal virtue of
barbarous nations, and why they esteem deeds of heroism, however useless
or mischievous, as far more meritorious than useful efforts of
government or internal organization. He contrasts the heroism of the
barbarous periods of the ancient world, with those of the dark ages of
modern Europe; and finding the former selfish and aggrandizing, while
the latter is characterized by the more generous features of chivalry,
he thus accounts for this characteristic.
"The method by which these courteous knights acquired this extreme
civility of theirs, was by mixing love with their courage. Love is a
very generous passion, and well fitted both to that humanity and
courage they would reconcile. The only one that can contest with it is
friendship, which, besides that it is too refined a passion for common
use, is not by many degrees so natural as love, to which almost every
one has a great propensity, and which it is impossible to see a
beautiful woman, without feeling some touches of. Besides, as love is a
capricious passion, it is the more susceptible of these fantastic forms,
which it must take when it mixes with chivalry. Friendship is a solid
and serious thing, and, like the love of their country in the Roman
heroes, would dispel and put to flight all the chimeras, inseparable
from this spirit of adventure. So that a mistress is as necessary to a
cavalier or knight-errant, as a god or saint to a devotee. Nor would he
stop here, or be contented with a submiss reverence and adoration to one
of the sex, but would extend in some degree the same civility to the
whole, and by a curious reversement of the order of nature, make them
the superior. This is no more than what is suitable to that infinite
generosity of which he makes profession. Every thing below him he treats
with submission, and every thing above him, with contumacy. Thus he
carries these double symptoms of generosity which Virgil makes mention
of into extravagance.
Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos.
Hence arises the knight-errant's strong and irreconcileable aversion to
all giants, with his most humble and respectful submission to all
damsels. These two affections of his, he unites in all his adventures,
which are always designed to relieve distressed damsels from the
captivity and violence of giants.
"As a cavalier is composed of the greatest warmth of love, tempered with
the most humble submission and respect, his mistress's behaviour is in
every point the reverse of this; and what is conspicuous in her temper
is the utmost coldness along with the greatest haughtiness and disdain;
until at last, gratitude for the many deliverances she has met with, and
the giants and monsters without number that he has destroyed for her
sake, reduces her, though unwilling, to the necessity of commencing a
bride. Here the chastity of women, which, from the necessity of human
affairs, has been in all ages and countries an extravagant point of
honour with them, is run into still greater extravagance, that none of
the sexes may be exempt from this fantastic ornament.
"Such were the notions of bravery in that age, and such the fictions by
which they formed models of it. The effects these had on their ordinary
life and conversation was, first, an extravagant gallantry and adoration
of the whole female sex, and romantic notions of extraordinary
constancy, fidelity, and refined passion for one mistress. Secondly, the
introduction of the practice of single combat. How naturally this sprung
up from chivalry may easily be understood. A knight-errant fights, not
like another man full of passion and resentment, but with the utmost
civility mixed with his undaunted courage. He salutes you before he cuts
your throat; and a plain man, who understood nothing of the mystery,
would take him for a treacherous ruffian, and think that, like Judas, he
was betraying with a kiss, while he is showing his generous calmness and
amicable courage. In consequence of this, every thing is performed with
the greatest ceremony and order; and whenever either chance or his
superior bravery make either of them victorious, he generously gives his
antagonist his life, and again embraces him as his friend. When these
fantastic practices have come in use, the amazed world, who, merely
because there is nothing real in all this, must certainly imagine there
is a great deal, could not but look upon such a courteous enmity as the
most heroic and sublime thing in nature; and instead of punishing any
murder that might ensue, as the law directs in such cases, would praise
and applaud the murderer."[25:1]
Perhaps the reader of these passages will have come to the conclusion
that the powers of reason displayed in them are as bold and original as
the imagination is meagre and servile. The reflections on Gothic
architecture are the commonplace opinions of the day, uttered by one who
was singularly destitute of sympathy with the human intellect, in its
early efforts to resolve itself into symmetry and elegance; whose mind
shrunk from the contemplation of any work of man that did not bear the
stamp of high intellectual culture. The same want of sympathy with man
in his rude and grand, though inharmonious efforts, here attends both
the chivalric manners and the solemn architecture of the dark ages. Of
the former, he has made a cold, clear, unsympathizing, perhaps accurate
estimate. The latter, unless a large proportion of the architectural
enthusiasts of the present day have raised the taste of the age upon
false foundations, he utterly misappreciated.
It must have been about his seventeenth year that Hume commenced, and
abruptly relinquished the practical study of the law,--a curious episode
in his history, which he thus describes in his "own life:" "My studious
disposition, my sobriety, and my industry, gave my family a notion that
the law was a proper profession for me; but I found an insurmountable
aversion to every thing but the pursuits of philosophy and general
learning; and while they fancied I was poring upon Voet and Vinnius,
Cicero and Virgil were the authors which I was secretly devouring."
But this by no means gives the reader a full and faithful impression of
his motives. The passage calls up the vision of a contemplative, gentle,
unambitious youth, shrinking from the arid labours that lead to wealth
and distinction, and content to dream away his life in obscurity with
the companionship of his favourite books. The document already referred
to, and immediately to be quoted, shows that far other thoughts were in
his mind; that he did not shrink from the professional labours of the
bar, to sink into studious ease, but rejected them to encounter higher
and more arduous toils--that he did not drop passively from the path of
ambition opened to him, but deserted it for a higher and more
adventurous course. He had indeed already before him the prospect of
being a discoverer in philosophy, and his mind, crowded with the images
of his new system, could see nothing else in life worthy of pursuit.
Without this clue, Hume's aversion to the study of the law would have
been a problem not to be easily solved. Had he lived in the present day,
when the mass of statute and precedent that have accumulated even within
the narrow domain of Scottish law, have completely precluded those
luxurious digressions into the field of speculation and theory, which
characterized the legal practice of our ancestors, one might readily
comprehend the aversion of his fastidiously cultivated logical mind to
such hard and coarse materials. But a lawyer's library, in his days,
consisted of the classics, the philosophers of mind, and the civilians.
The advocate often commenced his pleadings with a quotation from the
young philosopher's favourite poet Virgil, and then digressed into a
speculative inquiry into the general principles of law and government:
the philosophical genius of Themis long soaring sublime, until at last,
folding her wings, she rested on some vulgar question about dry multures
or an irritancy of a tailzie, to the settlement of which the wide
principles so announced were applied. Surely that science, within the
boundaries of which the speculative spirit of Lord Kames had room for
its flights, could not have been rejected on the ground that it cramped
and restrained the faculty of generalizing.[28:1] Yet in a letter to
Smith, of 12th April, 1759, which shows that Hume retained his antipathy
to the study to an advanced period of his life, he says, "I am afraid of
Kames' Law Tracts. A man might as well think of making a fine sauce by a
mixture of wormwood and aloes, as an agreeable composition by joining
metaphysics and Scottish law. However, the book I believe has merit,
though few people will take the pains of inquiring into it."
In truth there appear to have been in Hume all the elements of which a
good lawyer is made: clearness of judgment, power of rapidly acquiring
knowledge, untiring industry, and dialectic skill; and, if his mind had
not been preoccupied, he might have fallen into that gulf in which many
of the world's greatest geniuses lie buried--professional eminence, and
might have left behind him a reputation limited to the traditional
recollections of the Parliament House, or associated with important
decisions. He was through life an able, clear-headed man of business,
and I have seen several legal documents written in his own hand and
evidently drawn by himself. They stand the test of general professional
observation; and their writer, by preparing documents of such a
character on his own responsibility, showed that he had considerable
confidence in his ability to adhere to the forms adequate for the
occasion. He talks of it as "an ancient prejudice industriously
propagated by the dunces in all countries, that _a man of genius is
unfit for business_;"[29:1] and he showed, in his general conduct
through life, that he did not choose to come voluntarily under this
proscription.
His writings, however, bear but slight traces of his juridical studies.
In analysing the foundations of our notions of property, he criticises
some of the subtleties of the early civilians, but shows no more
intimate acquaintance with their works than any well-informed scholar of
the day might be supposed to exhibit. He shows no pleasure in dwelling
on matters connected with this study, but rather appears disposed to
release himself and his reader from a subject so little congenial to his
taste. The particular law of Scotland is one of those subjects to which
he would be careful to avoid a reference, as carrying with it that tone
of provincial thought and education which he was always anxious to
avoid. It may be perhaps an unfortunate result of this early prejudice
against the study of jurisprudence, that in after life he failed to
acquire that knowledge of the progress of the law of England, which
would have made his history much less amenable than it has been to
censorious criticism.
It is now time that the reader should be possessed of the document above
alluded to, as throwing much light on Hume's early studies and habits of
life; and it is here presented, without any introductory explanation, as
it first appeared to me in going through the papers in the possession of
the Royal Society.
_A Letter to a Physician._
"SIR,--Not being acquainted with this handwriting, you will probably
look to the bottom to find the subscription, and not finding any, will
certainly wonder at this strange method of addressing to you. I must
here in the beginning beg you to excuse it, and, to persuade you to read
what follows with some attention, must tell you, that this gives you an
opportunity to do a very good-natured action, which I believe is the
most powerful argument I can use. I need not tell you, that I am your
countryman, a Scotsman; for without any such tie, I dare rely upon your
humanity even to a perfect stranger, such as I am. The favour I beg of
you is your advice, and the reason why I address myself in particular to
you, need not be told,--as one must be a skilful physician, a man of
letters, of wit, of good sense, and of great humanity, to give me a
satisfying answer. I wish fame had pointed out to me more persons, in
whom these qualities are united, in order to have kept me some time in
suspense. This I say in the sincerity of my heart, and without any
intention of making a compliment; for though it may seem necessary,
that, in the beginning of so unusual a letter, I should say some fine
things, to bespeak your good opinion, and remove any prejudices you may
conceive at it, yet such an endeavour to be witty, would ill suit with
the present condition of my mind; which, I must confess, is not without
anxiety concerning the judgment you will form of me. Trusting, however,
to your candour and generosity, I shall, without further preface,
proceed to open up to you the present condition of my health, and to do
that the more effectually, shall give you a kind of history of my life,
after which you will easily learn why I keep my name a secret.
"You must know then that, from my earliest infancy, I found always a
strong inclination 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 almost
equally to books of reasoning and philosophy, and to poetry and the
polite authors. Every one who is acquainted either with the philosophers
or critics, knows that there is nothing yet established in either of
these two sciences, and that they contain little more than endless
disputes, even in the most fundamental articles. 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 last, 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. The law, which was the business I designed to follow,
appeared nauseous to me, and I could think of no other way of pushing my
fortune in the world, but that of a scholar and philosopher. I was
infinitely happy in this course of life for some months; till at last,
about the beginning of September, 1729, all my ardour seemed in a moment
to be extinguished, and I could no longer raise my mind to that pitch,
which formerly gave me such excessive pleasure. I felt no uneasiness or
want of spirits, when I laid aside my book; and therefore never imagined
there was any bodily distemper in the case, but that my coldness
proceeded from a laziness of temper, which must be overcome by
redoubling my application. In this condition I remained for nine months,
very uneasy to myself, as you may well imagine, but without growing any
worse, which was a miracle. There was another particular, which
contributed, more than any thing, to waste my spirits and bring on me
this distemper, which was, that having read many books of morality, such
as Cicero, Seneca, and Plutarch, and being smit with their beautiful
representations of virtue and philosophy, I undertook the improvement of
my temper and will, along with my reason and understanding. I was
continually fortifying myself with reflections against death, and
poverty, and shame, and pain, and all the other calamities of life.
These no doubt are exceeding useful, when joined with an active life,
because the occasion being presented along with the reflection, works it
into the soul, and makes it take a deep impression; but in solitude they
serve to little other purpose, than to waste the spirits, the force of
the mind meeting with no resistance, but wasting itself in the air, like
our arm when it misses its aim. This, however, I did not learn but by
experience, and till I had already ruined my health, though I was not
sensible of it. Some scurvy spots broke out on my fingers the first
winter I fell ill, about which I consulted a very knowing physician, who
gave me some medicine that removed these symptoms, and at the same time
gave me a warning against the vapours, which, though I was labouring
under at that time, I fancied myself so far removed from, and indeed
from any other disease, except a slight scurvy, that I despised his
warning. At last, about April 1730, when I was nineteen years of age, a
symptom, which I had noticed a little from the beginning, increased
considerably; so that, though it was no uneasiness, the novelty of it
made me ask advice; it was what they call a ptyalism or wateryness in
the mouth. Upon my mentioning it to my physician, he laughed at me, and
told me I was now a brother, for that I had fairly got the disease of
the learned. Of this he found great difficulty to persuade me, finding
in myself nothing of that lowness of spirit, which those who labour
under that distemper so much complain of. However upon his advice I went
under a course of bitters, and anti-hysteric pills, drank an English
pint of claret wine every day, and rode eight or ten Scotch miles. This
I continued for about seven months after.
"Though I was sorry to find myself engaged with so tedious a distemper,
yet the knowledge of it set me very much at ease, by satisfying me that
my former coldness proceeded not from any defect of temper or genius,
but from a disease to which any one may be subject. I now began to take
some indulgence to myself; studied moderately, and only when I found my
spirits at their highest pitch, leaving off before I was weary, and
trifling away the rest of my time in the best manner I could. In this
way, I lived with satisfaction enough; and on my return to town next
winter found my spirits very much recruited, so that, though they sank
under me in the higher flights of genius, yet I was able to make
considerable progress in my former designs. I was very regular in my
diet and way of life from the beginning, and all that winter made it a
constant rule to ride twice or thrice a-week, and walk every day. For
these reasons, I expected, when I returned to the country, and could
renew my exercise with less interruption, that I would perfectly
recover. But in this I was much mistaken; for next summer, about May
1731, there grew upon me a very ravenous appetite, and as quick a
digestion, which I at first took for a good symptom, and was very much
surprised to find it bring back a palpitation of heart, which I had felt
very little of before. This appetite, however, had an effect very
unusual, which was to nourish me extremely; so that in six weeks' time,
I passed from the one extreme to the other; and being before tall, lean,
and raw-boned, became on a sudden the most sturdy, robust,
healthful-like fellow you have seen, with a ruddy complexion and a
cheerful countenance. In excuse for my riding, and care of my health, I
always said that I was afraid of consumption, which was readily believed
from my looks, but now every body congratulated me upon my thorough
recovery. This unnatural appetite wore off by degrees, but left me as a
legacy the same palpitation of the heart in a small degree, and a good
deal of wind in my stomach, which comes away easily, and without any bad
_goût_, as is ordinary. However, these symptoms are little or no
uneasiness to me. I eat well; I sleep well; have no lowness of spirits,
at least never more than what one of the best health may feel from too
full a meal, from sitting too near a fire, and even that degree I feel
very seldom, and never almost in the morning or forenoon. Those who live
in the same family with me, and see me at all times, cannot observe the
least alteration in my humour, and rather think me a better companion
than I was before, as choosing to pass more of my time with them. This
gave me such hopes, that I scarce ever missed a day's riding, except in
the winter time; and last summer undertook a very laborious task, which
was to travel eight miles every morning, and as many in the forenoon, to
and from a mineral well of some reputation. I renewed the bitter and
anti-hysteric pills twice, along with anti-scorbutic juice, last
spring, but without any considerable effect, except abating the symptoms
for a little time.
"Thus I have given you a full account of the condition of my body; and
without staying to ask pardon, as I ought to do, for so tedious a story,
shall explain to you how my mind stood all this time, which on every
occasion, especially in this distemper, have a very near connexion
together. Having now time and leisure to cool my inflamed imagination, I
began to consider seriously how I should proceed in my philosophical
inquiries. 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: every one consulted his fancy in
erecting schemes of virtue and of happiness, without regarding human
nature, upon which every moral conclusion must depend. This, therefore,
I resolved to make my principal study, and the source from which I would
derive every truth in criticism as well as morality. I believe it is a
certain fact, that most of the philosophers who have gone before us,
have been overthrown by the greatness of their genius, and that little
more is required to make a man succeed in this study, than to throw off
all prejudices either for his own opinions or for those of others. At
least this is all I have to depend on for the truth of my reasonings,
which I have multiplied to such a degree, that within these three years,
I find I have scribbled many a quire of paper, in which there is nothing
contained but my own inventions. This, with the reading most of the
celebrated books in Latin, French, and English, and acquiring the
Italian, you may think a sufficient business for one in perfect health,
and so it would had it been done to any purpose; but my disease was a
cruel encumbrance on me. I found that I was not able to follow out any
train of thought, by one continued stretch of view, but by repeated
interruptions, and by refreshing my eye from time to time upon other
objects. Yet with this inconvenience I have collected the rude materials
for many volumes; but in reducing these to words, when one must bring
the idea he comprehended in gross, nearer to him, so as to contemplate
its minutest parts, and keep it steadily in his eye, so as to copy these
parts in order,--this I found impracticable for me, nor were my spirits
equal to so severe an employment. Here lay my greatest calamity. I had
no hopes of delivering my opinions with such elegance and neatness, as
to draw to me the attention of the world, and I would rather live and
die in obscurity than produce them maimed and imperfect.
"Such a miserable disappointment I scarce ever remember to have heard
of. The small distance betwixt me and perfect health makes me the more
uneasy in my present situation. It is a weakness rather than a lowness
of spirits which troubles me, and there seems to be as great a
difference betwixt my distemper and common vapours, as betwixt vapours
and madness. I have noticed in the writings of the French mystics, and
in those of our fanatics here, that when they give a history of the
situation of their souls, they mention a coldness and desertion of the
spirit, which frequently returns; and some of them, at the beginning,
have been tormented with it many years. As this kind of devotion depends
entirely on the force of passion, and consequently of the animal
spirits, I have often thought that their case and mine were pretty
parallel, and that their rapturous admirations might discompose the
fabric of the nerves and brain, as much as profound reflections, and
that warmth or enthusiasm which is inseparable from them.
"However this may be, I have not come out of the cloud so well as they
commonly tell us they have done, or rather began to despair of ever
recovering. To keep myself from being melancholy on so dismal a
prospect, my only security was in peevish reflections on the vanity of
the world and of all human glory; which, however just sentiments they
may be esteemed, I have found can never be sincere, except in those who
are possessed of them. Being sensible that all my philosophy would never
make me contented in my present situation, I began to rouse up myself;
and being encouraged by instances of recovery from worse degrees of this
distemper, as well as by the assurances of my physicians, I began to
think of something more effectual than I had hitherto tried. I found,
that as there are two things very bad for this distemper, study and
idleness, so there are two things very good, business and diversion; and
that my whole time was spent betwixt the bad, with little or no share of
the good. For this reason I resolved to seek out a more active life, and
though I could not quit my pretensions in learning but with my last
breath, to lay them aside for some time, in order the more effectually
to resume them. Upon examination, I found my choice confined to two
kinds of life, that of a travelling governor, and that of a merchant.
The first, besides that it is in some respects an idle life, was, I
found, unfit for me; and that because from a sedentary and retired way
of living, from a bashful temper, and from a narrow fortune, I had been
little accustomed to general companies, and had not confidence and
knowledge enough of the world to push my fortune, or to be serviceable
in that way. I therefore fixed my choice upon a merchant; and having got
recommendation to a considerable trader in Bristol, I am just now
hastening thither, with a resolution to forget myself, and every thing
that is past, to engage myself, as far as is possible, in that course of
life, and to toss about the world, from the one pole to the other, till
I leave this distemper behind me.
"As I am come to London in my way to Bristol, I have resolved, if
possible, to get your advice, though I should take this absurd method of
procuring it. All the physicians I have consulted, though very able,
could never enter into my distemper; because not being persons of great
learning beyond their own profession, they were unacquainted with these
motions of the mind. Your fame pointed you out as the properest person
to resolve my doubts, and I was determined to have somebody's opinion,
which I could rest upon in all the varieties of fears and hopes,
incident to so lingering a distemper. I hope I have been particular
enough in describing the symptoms to allow you to form a judgment; or
rather, perhaps, have been too particular. But you know it is a symptom
of this distemper, to delight in complaining and talking of itself. The
questions I would humbly propose to you are: Whether, among all those
scholars you have been acquainted with, you have ever known any affected
in this manner? Whether I can ever hope for a recovery? Whether I must
long wait for it? Whether my recovery will ever be perfect, and my
spirits regain their former spring and vigour, so as to endure the
fatigue of deep and abstruse thinking? Whether I have taken a right way
to recover? I believe all proper medicines have been used, and therefore
I need mention nothing of them."
The history of this eventful period in the mental biography of Hume, is
very briefly narrated in his "own life." Alluding to his adoption of the
life of a student, he says, "My very slender fortune, however, 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 into a more active scene of life. In 1734, I
went to Bristol, with some recommendations to eminent merchants, but in
a few months found that scene totally unsuitable to me."
I am sure the reader will sympathize with me in esteeming it a high
privilege to be the humble instrument of ushering into the world so
curious a piece of literary autobiography as that which he has just
perused. We are here admitted into the confessional. So secret is the
communication of thought by the writer to the receiver, that the latter,
who was made acquainted with so much of the internal meditations of the
former, was not to be allowed to know with what outward man this mind of
which he obtained a description was connected. The individual mind was
fully and minutely described--to what individual man this mind belonged
was to be preserved a profound secret. The writer shrunk from the
admission of any man to a participation with him in his
self-conferences, and he planned that by keeping his name a secret, the
link which would connect this knowledge of the inner to an acquaintance
with the outer man should be broken. We have surely in this an argument
in favour of the candour and explicitness of his narrative. He felt that
to be known, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, by the person he
addressed, would be a restraint on the freedom of his revelations--he
threw off this restraint, and we are entitled to infer that his letter
is a piece of full and candid self-examination. Every word of it, as it
was originally written, is here printed, and it will perhaps be admitted
that there is not one word of it that does not do honour to its writer.
To Aristotle and others it is attributed that they taught esoteric
doctrines to a chosen few--doctrines not to be promulgated to the world
at large, because they were likely to have a dangerous influence on
minds not skilfully trained for their reception. For any vestiges of
these hidden doctrines the world searches, anticipating that in them
will be found a nearer approach to that which the philosopher believed
in his own mind, as distinct from that which he desired to inculcate on
others. In all ages there has been a natural and a praiseworthy
curiosity to know the hidden thoughts of great teachers. Mankind in
general admit, that truth is what is valuable in all philosophy, and if
a man entertained thoughts in his own mind in any way different from
those which he taught, it has been a conclusion certainly quite
legitimate, that truth is more likely to be found in the former than in
the latter. But certainly there can hardly be found any other instance
in which a document, so likely to be the honest impress of a
philosopher's own mind, has been laid before the world; and it is an
attestation of the sincerity with which the opinions then in the course
of formation in his mind were believed.
But, independently of the philosophical value of the document, to be
thus admitted into the secrecy of the thoughts of a man ambitious of
high literary distinction, and who has attained his object, is a rare
privilege. The revelation, notwithstanding its foreboding tone, is
calculated to give far more pleasure than pain. The future, which seemed
to the desponding philosopher for a moment so dark, we know to have
brightened on him. Hume was of the happy few who lived to see their airy
castles substantially realized. Comparing what it reveals of the inner
man, with the subsequent history of his achievements, the picture
supplied by this fragment of autobiography is a happy one. We sympathize
with the aspiring dreams of the young man, without feeling that they
were afterwards doomed to disappointment. The immediate occasion of his
earnest appeal is undoubtedly one of despondency; but it was preceded by
hope, as we know it was followed by success; and notwithstanding this
passing cloud, it may fairly be pronounced, that though Hume enjoyed
through life more than the average portion of human happiness, he had no
moments of purer felicity than those in which, in the retirement of his
paternal home, he was sketching the airy outline of his subsequent
career.
Perhaps the feature that will most forcibly strike the reader, is the
evidence of the deep-rooted ambition to found a philosophical
reputation, that seems to have filled the mind of the writer of this
document. The consciousness that the receiver of the paper must at once
perceive this circumstance, and the desire not to let a stranger
penetrate his aspiring thoughts, must have been the reasons of his
desire for secrecy: it was natural that one who had not entered the
lists to struggle for literary distinction, should wish to conceal how
strong and inextinguishable was his desire to obtain the prize. The
intensity of his anxiety on this subject seems to have made him, in
relation to his mind, what the ordinary hypochondriac is as to his
physical constitution. The desire to preserve the elements of
distinction was so intense, that it disturbed him with vain fears for
their disappearance. Feeling within him, at times, the consciousness of
possessing an original genius,--that it should depart from him, and that
his lot should be cast among that of ordinary mortals, with good
physical health and commonplace abilities, appeared to him the most
awful calamity which fate could have in store for him. Of the excellent
physical health which accompanied these unpleasant variations of his
mental capacity, he speaks with an almost sardonic scorn, as one who, in
the bitterness of being bereft of what is all in all to him, talks of
some paltry trifle which fortune in her sarcastic malice has chosen to
leave untouched. In short, the manner in which he speaks of the
departure of his cunning, must almost necessarily convey to the reader a
considerable portion of that ludicrous character which is always
presented by a scene in which a man appears to be dreadfully anxious
about the safety of that which either is of no importance, or is not in
danger.
It may be a question whether this strange letter was ever sent to its
destination, as the version from which it is here printed is not a rough
draught, but a neatly written copy, such as might have been prepared for
transmission. But this does not afford so full a presumption in Hume's
case, as it would in that of the average of literary men, as he seems to
have felt a sort of enjoyment in his earlier years in having his papers
neatly written out. The first name that suggested itself as that of the
person to whom the paper was addressed was Arbuthnot, whose fine genius
was just then flickering in the socket. But a more full consideration
showed to my satisfaction that it must have been destined for Dr. George
Cheyne, and that it was suggested by that eminent physician's
publication, in the preceding year, of "The English Malady; or, a
Treatise of Nervous Diseases of all kinds, as Spleen, Vapours, Lowness
of Spirits, Hypochondriacal Distempers, &c." There is a certain unison
of tone between Hume's letter and this book, that, added to other
coincidences, strongly impresses on the mind their connexion with each
other; and though it is perhaps necessary, before this is fully seen, to
enter into the whole tenor and tone of Cheyne's book, the reader will
perhaps find the following passage sufficient to render the conjecture
probable:--
"It is a common observation, (and I think has great probability on its
side,) that fools, weak or stupid persons, heavy and dull souls, are
seldom much troubled with vapours or lowness of spirits. The
intellectual faculty, without all manner of doubt, has material and
animal organs, by which it mediately works, as well as the animal
functions. What they are, and how they operate, as I believe very few
know, so it is very little necessary to know them for my present
purpose. As a philosophical musician may understand proportions and
harmony, and yet never be in a condition to gratify a company with a
fine piece of music, without the benefit of sounds from proper organs,
so the intellectual operations (as long as the present union between
soul and body lasts) can never be performed in the best manner without
proper instruments. The works of imagination and memory, of study,
thinking, and reflecting, from whatever source the principle on which
they depend springs, must necessarily require bodily organs. Some have
these organs finer, quicker, more agile, and sensible, and perhaps more
numerous than others; brute animals have few or none, at least none that
belong to reflection; vegetables certainly none at all. There is no
account to be given how a disease, a fall, a blow, a debauch, poisons,
violent passions, astral and aerial influences, much application, and
the like, should possibly alter or destroy these intellectual operations
without this supposition. It is evident, that in nervous distempers, and
a great many other bodily diseases, these faculties and their operations
are impaired, nay, totally ruined and extinguished to all appearance;
and yet, by proper remedies, and after recovery of health, they are
restored and brought to their former state. Now, since this present age
has made efforts to go beyond former times, in all the arts of
ingenuity, invention, study, learning, and all the contemplative and
sedentary professions, (I speak only here of our own nation, our own
times, and of the better sort, whose chief employments and studies these
are,) the organs of these faculties being thereby worn and spoiled, must
affect and deaden the whole system, and lay a foundation for the
diseases of lowness and weakness. Add to this, that those who are
likeliest to excel and apply in this manner, are most capable and most
in hazard of following that way of life which I have mentioned, as the
likeliest to produce these diseases. Great wits are generally great
epicures, at least, men of taste. And the bodies and constitutions of
one generation are still more corrupt, infirm, and diseased, than those
of the former, as they advance in time and the use of the causes
assigned."
Then there are the farther coincidences, that Cheyne was a Scotsman,
that he was an eminent man in his profession, and that he had bestowed
some attention on mental philosophy. "I passed my youth," he tells us,
"in close study, and almost constant application to the abstracted
sciences, wherein my chief pleasure consisted." "Having," he elsewhere
says, "had a liberal education, with the instruction and example of
pious parents, (who at first had designed me for the church,) I had
preserved a firm persuasion of the great and fundamental principles of
all virtue and morality: viz. the existence of a supreme and infinitely
perfect Being, the freedom of the will, the immortality of the spirits
of all intellectual beings, and the certainty of future rewards or
punishments. These doctrines I had examined carefully, and had been
confirmed in, from abstracted reasonings, as well as from the best
natural philosophy, and some clearer knowledge of the material system of
the world in general, and the wisdom, fitness, and beautiful contrivance
of particular things animated and inanimated; so that the truth and
necessity of these principles was so riveted in me, (which may be seen
by the first edition of my 'Philosophical Principles,' published some
years before that happened,[45:1]) as never after to be shaken in all my
wanderings and follies."[45:2] It may be mentioned also, as a
circumstance likely to bring Cheyne's work early under Hume's
observation, that it contains a long statement of the case of Dr.
William Cranstoun, an eminent medical man then residing at Jedburgh, in
the same district of country with Ninewells.
FOOTNOTES:
[1:1] Old Style.
[1:2] He is entered in the list of members on 23d June, 1705, as "Mr.
Joseph Hume of Ninewalls." It thus appears that the orthography of the
name adopted by his son, and which will be found to have been so much
the subject of dispute, was not a novelty to the family.
[2:1] Both the "Peerage" and the "Baronage" of Scotland, by Robert
Douglas, are well known to Scottish genealogical antiquaries. The former
was published in 1764. The latter, in which there is a brief account of
the Ninewells' family, in 1798.
[4:1] In connexion with this, it is not uninteresting to view Hume's
opinions on the philosophy of family pride. He says, in the Treatise of
Human Nature, Book ii. p. i. sect. 9.--"'Tis evident that, when any one
boasts of the antiquity of his family, the subjects of his vanity are
not merely the extent of time and number of ancestors, but also their
riches and credit, which are supposed to reflect a lustre on himself on
account of his relation to them. He first considers these objects; is
affected by them in an agreeable manner; and then returning back to
himself, through the relation of parent and child, is elevated with the
passion of pride, by means of the double relation of impressions and
ideas. Since, therefore, the passion depends on these relations,
whatever strengthens any of the relations must also increase the
passion, and whatever weakens the relations must diminish the passion.
Now 'tis certain the identity of the possession strengthens the relation
of ideas arising from blood and kindred, and conveys the fancy with
greater facility from one generation to another, from the remotest
ancestors to their posterity, who are both their heirs and their
descendants. By this facility the impression is transmitted more entire,
and excites a greater degree of pride and vanity."
[6:1] The document is quoted in Book ii. of Robertson's History of
Scotland.
[6:2] A tragic incident occurred in the year 1683, in which Hume of
Ninewells, and Johnston of Hilton, were victims to the revengeful
passions of a brother of the Earl of Home, vented under circumstances of
singular treachery and inhospitality. It is thus narrated in Law's
Memorials, p. 259. "December, 1683, about the close of that moneth, the
Earl himself being from home, the Lairds of Hilton and Nynhools came to
make a visit to the Earl of Home his house, and went to dice and cards
with Mr. William Home, the Earl's brother. Some sharp words fell amongst
them at their game, which were not noticed, as it seemed to them; yet,
when the two gentlemen were gone to their bed-chambers, the foresaid Mr.
William comes up with his sword and stabs Hilton with nine deadly
wounds, in his bed, that he dies immediately; and wounds Nynhools
mortally, so that it was thought he could not live, and immediately took
horse and fled into England--a treacherous and villanous act done to two
innocent gentlemen, the fruits of dicing and card gaming."
"Joseph Johnstone of Hilton was stabbed by Mr. William, brother to
Charles earle of Hume. Hilton being of a lofty temper, had given Mr.
Hume bad words in his own house of Hilton, and a box on the ear. . . .
And William Hume made his escape to England, on Hilton's horse. He was
after killed himself in the wars abroad."--Lord Fountainhall's Diary, p.
33.
The editor of Law, Mr. Kirkpatrick Sharpe, appends the following farther
notices of this incident:--
"Before his death he is said to have returned to Scotland, smitten with
remorse, and anxious to obtain pardon of a near male relation of
Johnstone's, then residing in Edinburgh. This gentleman, in the dusk of
the evening, was called forth to the outside stairs of the house, to
speak with a stranger muffled in a cloak. As he proceeded along the
passage, the door being open, he recognised the murderer; and
immediately drawing his sword, rushed towards him, on which the other
leapt nimbly down from the stairs into the street, and was never again
seen in Scotland." These events were made the subject of an amusing
sketch in _Chambers's Edinburgh Journal_, No. 569.
[7:1] Copy MS. communicated by Dr. Vallange, Portobello.
[8:1] Hist. and Allus. Arms, p. 400, where the information is derived
from Douglas's Baronage.
[9:1] Unless such allusions as the following be held as an exception:
"The north of England abounds in the best horses of all kinds which are
perhaps in the world. In the neighbouring counties, north side of the
Tweed, no good horses of any kind are to be met with." Essay on National
Characters. But he speaks fully as distinctly and specifically of local
matters in France or Spain.
The remarks in the text may probably be considered superfluous, being
applicable to by far the greater portion of literary men--as those who
have attempted to trace, from the internal evidence of their works, the
birthplaces of authors not commemorated by their contemporaries, can
testify. Thomson, also a borderer, and a poet of rural life, has
scarcely any allusion that bears a distinct reference to the scenery of
his childhood, and celebrates the heroism of almost every land but his
own. In that age, however, to be national in Scotland was to be
provincial in Britain; and unless an author chose to aim at the
restricted reputation of a Ramsay or a Pennecuik, he must carefully shun
allusions to his native country. But the very existence of this, as a
general characteristic, seems to render it worthy of notice in this
instance, which must certainly be held, like Thomson's, a peculiarly
marked illustration of this feature in literary history. Hume had
frequently to record events which had taken place close to his home; and
the whole of the surrounding district was full of traditional lore,
about the wild life of the borderers in the seventeenth century, which
would have afforded valuable materials for his history, and some of his
other works, had he been one of those who derive their knowledge from
men as well as from books. But these volumes will afford ample
opportunity for observing, that he required to place no great restraint
on his pen to keep it free of provincial allusions; and that, even in
his most familiar letters, though he often speaks of the friends of his
youth, he says nothing of the places in which he spent his early days.
[12:1] Among the Hume Papers in the possession of the Royal Society of
Edinburgh, there is a letter from the chevalier, addressed to "Monsieur
de Ramsay, à l'Hôtel de Provence, Rue de Condé, Faubourg St. Germain,"
dated 1st September, 1742. The receiver of this letter was probably the
correspondent of Hume, to whom it may have been sent, under the
impression that he was the person connected with the Vindication of the
Duchess of Marlborough, a book now well known to have been put into
shape by Hooke, the historian of Rome. The letter is in English; and it
shows that there are works of genius which the author of "The Travels of
Cyrus" had not taste to appreciate. He says:--
"I have read the first book of 'The History of Joseph Andrews,' but
don't believe I shall be able to finish the first volume. Dull burlesque
is still more insupportable than dull morality. Perhaps my not
understanding the language of low life in an English style is the reason
of my disgust; but I am afraid your Britannic wit is at as low an ebb as
the French. I hope to find some more amusement in my Lady Duchess of
Marlborough's adventures. They say a friend of ours has some hand in
them. I pity his misfortune, if he is obliged to stoop below his fine
genius and talents, to please an old rich dowager, that neither deserves
apology nor praise, and that would be too much honoured for her merit by
an ingenious fine satyr. I long to be in a condition to travel, that I
may see and embrace you, make acquaintance with your amiable young Lord,
and assure you both of the tender zeal, friendship, and attachment with
which I am your most humble and most obedient servant,
"The Ch. RAMSAY."
Perhaps the criticism on Fielding may not be thought inconsistent with
the man who pronounced Locke a shallow writer.
[14:1] Virg. Æn. iii. 660.
[14:2]
At secura quies, et nescia fallere vita,
Dives opum variarum: at latis otia fundis,
Speluncæ, vivique lacus; at frigida Tempe,
Mugitusque boum, mollesque sub arbore somni
Non absunt.
Virg. Georg. ii. 467 et seq.
In the course of the correspondence which follows, there will be found
several quotations from the Latin classics. Hume's handwriting is so
distinct, that we can seldom have any doubt of the individual letters
written by him. At the same time, as he appears to have always quoted
from memory, there is sometimes a greater difference than even that
exhibited above, between the original and his version of it. I have
thought, that were I to attempt to correct his quotations, I would be
removing valuable data from which the reader may form an estimate of his
mental powers and his education. It will perhaps be allowed, that in
some instances he shows a fertile invention in substituting words for
those which his memory has failed to retain; while in others, as in the
above quotation, the fastidious critics of England will perhaps detect
traces of the more slovenly classical education of Scotland. In his
published works, Hume appears to have anxiously collated his quotations.
But in his letters he seems to have been always more anxious about the
judicious choice of his own expressions, than the accurate transcription
of the words of others. His letters appear to have been carefully
composed. He wrote in constant dread of falling into slovenly
colloquialisms of style, and was not ashamed to leave on his letters the
marks of this anxiety, in corrections and interlineations. This
peculiarity must be admitted to be at variance with the received canon
of the learned world, which excuses mistakes and clumsy expressions in
the vernacular language of a writer, but has no mercy for irregularities
in the use of the dead languages.
[16:1] From a scroll in the MSS. bequeathed by Baron Hume to the Royal
Society of Edinburgh.
An account of these MSS. will be found in the Preface. Henceforth, for
the sake of brevity, they will be referred to thus--MS. R.S.E. A part of
the above letter has been already printed in the _Literary Gazette_ for
1821, p. 762.
[25:1] It may be interesting to compare these extracts with his method
of treating the same subject at a later period of his life. The
following is taken from his Essay on the Feudal and Anglo-Norman
Government and Manners, in the two volumes of his History, first
published in 1762.
"The feudal institutions, by raising the military tenants to a kind of
sovereign dignity, by rendering personal strength and valour requisite,
and by making every knight and baron his own protector and avenger,
begat that martial pride and sense of honour, which, being cultivated
and embellished by the poets and romance writers of the age, ended in
chivalry. The virtuous knight fought not only in his own quarrel, but in
that of the innocent, of the helpless, and, above all, of the fair, whom
he supposed to be for ever under the guardianship of his valiant arm.
The uncourteous knight, who, from his castle, exercised robbery on
travellers, and committed violence on virgins, was the object of his
perpetual indignation; and he put him to death without scruple, or
trial, or appeal, whenever he met with him. The great independence of
men made personal honour and fidelity the chief tie among them, and
rendered it the capital virtue of every true knight, or genuine
professor of chivalry. The solemnities of single combat, as established
by law, banished the notion of every thing unfair or unequal in
rencounters, and maintained an appearance of courtesy between the
combatants till the moment of their engagement. The credulity of the age
grafted on this stock the notions of giants, enchanters, spells, and a
thousand wonders, which still multiplied during the time of the
crusades, when men, returning from so great a distance, used the liberty
of imposing every fiction on their believing audience. These ideas of
chivalry infected the writings, conversations, and behaviour of men
during some ages; and even after they were in a great measure banished
by the revival of learning, they left modern _gallantry_, and the _point
of honour_, which still maintain their influence, and are the genuine
offspring of those ancient affectations."
[28:1] Perhaps few authors afford so many curious illustrations of the
substitution of fanciful analogy for the severe logic of a practical
lawyer, as Lord Kames--_e. g._ when, in his essays on British
antiquities, he identifies hereditary descent with the law of
gravitation, and the inclination of the mind to continue downwards in a
straight line, as a stone falls from a height; so that, "in tracing out
a family, the mind descends by degrees from the father, first to the
eldest son, and so downwards in the order of age:" pleasant enough
speculations, yet not likely to serve any good purpose in practical law.
[29:1] Essay on Eloquence.
[45:1] Philosophical Principles of Natural Religion, 1705, 8vo.
[45:2] The English Malady, p. 330-331. I have run my eye over Cheyne's
"Natural Method of Curing Diseases of the Body and Mind," 1742,
8vo,--the only work I am aware of his having published subsequently to
the date of Hume's letter, but I have found in it no trace of a
reference to Hume's case. Cheyne's works are perhaps better known to the
public in general, than any medical books of the same period, and their
curious discursive contents amply repay perusal. Their science is of
course held to be completely superseded, but the unscientific reader
cannot help thinking that there is much sagacious good counsel in his
advice, notwithstanding the eccentric garrulity with which it is
uttered. His account of his own experiences, in experimenting on
himself, is the most interesting department of his medical observations.
He describes every thing with a sort of rude eloquence, infinitely more
pleasing to an ordinary reader than scientific precision; and the
recklessness with which he appears to have submitted his own carcass to
the most violent changes of regimen, inclines one to think that he had
applied towards it the _fiat experimentum in compore vili_. He tells us
that he was disposed to "corpulence by the whole race of one side" of
his family. In the quotation given above, he represents himself as
having been studious in his youth. He began to practise his profession
in London, of which he says--"The number of fires, sulphurous and
bituminous; the vast expense of tallow and foetid oil in candles and
lamps, under and above ground; the clouds of stinking breaths and
perspiration, not to mention the ordure of so many diseased, both
intelligent and unintelligent animals; the crowded churches,
churchyards, and burying places, with putrifying bodies, the sinks,
butcher houses, stables, dunghills, and the necessary stagnation,
fermentation, and mixture of all variety of all kinds of atoms, are more
than sufficient to putrify, poison, and infect the air, for twenty miles
round it." Having come from the fresh air of the country into so hopeful
an atmosphere, he seems to have resolved that his habit of living should
be an equally great contrast to his previous studious abstinence. "Upon
my coming to London, I all of a sudden changed my whole manner of
living. I found the bottle-companions, the younger gentry, and
free-livers, to be the most easy of access, and most quickly susceptible
of friendship and acquaintance,--nothing being necessary for that
purpose but to be able to eat lustily, and swallow down much liquor; and
being naturally of a large size, a cheerful temper, and tolerable lively
imagination; and having, in my country retirement, laid in store of
ideas and facts,--by these qualifications I soon became caressed by
them, and grew daily in bulk, and in friendship with these gay gentlemen
and their acquaintances. I was tempted to continue this course, no
doubt, from a liking, as well as to force a trade, which method I had
observed to succeed with some others: and thus constantly dining and
supping in taverns, and in the houses of my acquaintances of taste and
delicacy, my health was in a few years brought into great distress, by
so sudden and violent a change. I grew excessively fat, short-breathed,
lethargic, and listless."
The consequences were "a constant, violent headach, giddiness, lowness,
anxiety, and terror," and he went about "like a malefactor condemned, or
one who expected every moment to be crushed by a ponderous instrument of
death hanging over his head." These evil symptoms prompted him to
abandon suppers and restrict himself to a small quantity of animal food
and of fermented liquors. He very naturally found that on this abrupt
change all his "bouncing, protesting, and undertaking companions"
forsook him, and "dropped off like autumnal leaves," leaving him to
vegetate in temperate dreariness, while they "retired to comfort
themselves with a cheer-up cup," so that he pathetically tells us, "I
was forced to retire into the country quite alone, being reduced to the
state of Cardinal Wolsey, when he said, that if he had served his Maker
as faithfully and warmly as he had his prince, he would not have
forsaken him in that extremity."
It would be difficult to follow out the multitudinous course of remedies
he adopted, commencing with "volatiles, foetids, bitters, chalybeats,
and mineral waters," and how he took twenty grains of "what is called
the prince's powder," and "had certainly perished under the operation,
but for an over-dose of laudanum after it," having thus experienced
something like the good fortune of the man of Thessaly who leaped into a
quickset hedge. Under these circumstances he felt his body "melting away
like a snow-ball in summer." Having tried the Bath waters, he appears to
have somewhat revived, whereupon by increasing his quantity of "animal
food and strong liquors," he was "heated so," that he "apprehended a
hectic." His next change was to a milk diet, in which experiment he was
confirmed by a visit to Dr. Taylor of Croydon, its apostle, whom he
found "at home, at his full quart of cow's milk, which was all his
dinner." He found in consequence of this change, that he "increased in
spirits, strength, appetite and gaiety," until, the old Adam struggling
within him, he "began to find a craving and insufferable longing for
more solid and toothsome food, and for higher and stronger liquors."
Hereupon we have him getting more generous in his diet, but still, as he
counts it, "sober, moderate, and plain," in so far as he "drank not
above a quart or three pints at most of wine any day." Under this
regimen, he says, "I swelled to such an enormous size, that upon my last
weighing I exceeded thirty-two stones." Then came fits of various kinds,
and a dreary period of hypochondria, with recurrences to the low diet
system, and then such startling revulsions from it as the following: "I
resolved to change my half pint of port at dinner, into the same
quantity of Florence. I ate, at the same time, a good deal of more
butter with my vegetables, and plenty of old rich cheese; and likewise
nuts extremely--I procured from abroad and at home, great plenty of all
kinds, as filberts, walnuts, chestnuts, almonds, &c., eating them in
great quantities after dinner by way of dessert," but in pity to the
digestive sympathies of the reader this subject must be dropped. Dr.
Cheyne is--not the martyr, but the hero of dyspepsia, and Mrs. Radcliffe
could not have drawn him through a longer series of horrors than his
inventive genius seems to have created for himself.