Few literary reputations have been more unlike each other than those of

the two David Humes, uncle and nephew. The former hated legal details

and the jargon of technical phraseology; to the latter they were the

breath of his literary life. The one, as a philosopher, saw, throughout

a wide circumference of vision, the relations to each other of the most

distant objects of human knowledge; the latter saw nothing beyond the

bounds of the professional details before him; but these he noted with

an unrivalled accuracy. The strength, clearness, and beauty of the

philosopher's language have been a lasting object of admiration; the

lawyer's diction was clumsy, rude, and ponderous, without being either

strong or clear. On one point only did they agree--their political

opinions; and yet, on this subject, they seem not always to have been in

unison. From a very curious letter, which will be found a few pages

farther on, it appears that Hume thought it necessary seriously to warn

his nephew against republican principles. Few, who are only acquainted

with the opinions of Baron Hume's later life, will be inclined to

believe that this danger could ever have been serious. He was a

supporter of all those parts of the criminal law of Scotland,--in his

day not a few,--which put the subject at the mercy of the crown and of

the judges; and a warm admirer of his sagacity and learning, as a

lawyer, cannot quit this subject without regretting that these qualities

should have been brought to aid the promulgation of arbitrary

principles.

The education of his nephews, occupies, as has been already stated, the

remainder of the letter by Hume to his brother above cited.

"My present situation revives those reflections which have frequently

occurred to me concerning the education of your sons, particularly of

Josey, whose age now advances, and seems to approach towards a crisis.

The question is, whether he had better continue his education in

Scotland or in England. There are several advantages of a Scots

education; but the question is, whether that of the language does not

counterbalance them, and determine the preference to the English. He is

now of an age to learn it perfectly; but if a few years elapse, he may

acquire such an accent, as he will never be able to cure of. It is not

yet determined what profession he shall be of: but it must always be of

great advantage to speak properly: especially if it should prove, as we

have reason to hope, that his good parts will open him the road of

ambition. The only inconvenience is, that few Scotsmen, that have had an

English education, have ever settled cordially in their own country; and

they have been commonly lost ever after to their friends. However, as

this consequence is not necessary, the superior recommendations of an

English education ought not to be neglected. I have been making

inquiries for some time, and on the whole I find Eton the best place for

the education of youth. He would there be able to form connexions with

many young people of distinction; though the whole expense would

scarcely exceed £70 a-year, which I fancy is little more than he costs

you at present. I suggest, therefore, this idea to you that you may

weigh it at leisure, and determine upon it. I know you do not like to be

hurried, and therefore the more time for reflection the better. His

friend and companion, young Adam, is coming up soon, but is going to

Westminster school, which is a place that I find some objections to.

"I hope Mrs. Home is perfectly recovered. I am glad to hear such good

news of Jock. I had a letter from Davie last week, which gave me

pleasure. I am, dear brother, yours sincerely."[404:1]

On 13th October, in a letter of which a portion has been cited above,

Hume writes further on the same subject:

"DEAR BROTHER,--I never prognosticated well of Josey's genius for the

mathematics, from his great slowness in learning arithmetic: and I am

not surprised to find that his progress in Euclid has not been so great

as might have been expected from his quickness and his capacity in other

particulars. There is indeed something very unaccountable in his turn;

so childish in many cases, and yet so manly, and quick, and sensible in

others. The presence of strangers, above all, seems to make him

recollect himself, and he is exceedingly taking among them. His address

in particular, is remarkably good, and he seems to have a turn for the

world and for company. However, I do not think him by any means

deficient in his talents for literature. It appeared to me that he

always read his books with a very good taste, Latin as well as French

and English; and I imagine that he will make at least a very

gentlemanlike scholar. I wish therefore he had a further trial of the

Greek; and if that will not do, I think with you that the Italian is an

easy and genteel acquisition, which will furnish him with occupation for

this winter."[405:1]

Hume expressed no high respect for the historical abilities of Dr.

Smollett, nor could he have well expected credit for sincerity if he had

done so. With the works in which the novelist let loose his native

genius, it is not likely that the philosopher could have had much

sympathy. But two letters addressed by him to Smollett, show that the

successful and affluent man of letters was substantially kind and

friendly to his less fortunate countryman.

HUME _to_ TOBIAS SMOLLETT.

"_London, July 18, 1767._

"DEAR SIR,--I have had a conversation with Lord Shelburne concerning

your affairs: he told me that he had long been pre-engaged for the

consulship of Nice to the Spanish ambassador, and could not possibly get

free of that obligation. I then mentioned the consulship of Leghorn; but

he said he was already engaged for that office to a friend of Mr.

Dunning, the lawyer. On the whole, I cannot flatter you with any hopes

of success from that quarter; even supposing his lordship were to remain

in office, which is very uncertain, considering the present state of our

ministry. For of all our annual confusions, the present seems to be the

most violent, and to threaten the most entire revolution, and the most

important events. As Lord Chatham's state of health appears totally

desperate, and as Lord Shelburne's connexion is supposed to be chiefly,

if not solely, with him, many people foretell a short duration to the

greatness of the last named minister. Every thing is uncertain: there is

a mighty combination to overpower the king. The force of the crown is

great; but is not employed with that steadiness which its friends would

wish. I pretend not to foresee, much less to foretell, the consequences.

I am, dear sir, your most obedient, and most humble servant," &c.[406:1]

It has been a matter of speculation, if not of dispute among

ecclesiastical politicians, how far Hume had an influence in the

dispensation of church patronage in Scotland. The following letters,

having however a more immediate reference to state politics, may be held

to afford some light on this question.

HUME _to_ SIR GILBERT ELLIOT.[406:2]

"_London, 13th August, 1767._

"DEAR SIR GILBERT,--I am told that the minister of Kirkton, in the

Presbytery of Jedburgh, is either dying, or is to be removed, and that

the living is in the gift of the crown. I have spoke to General Conway

desiring that, in case no unexpected difficulties occur, he may give it

to my nephew's tutor; and he has agreed to it. I have since heard, that

the living, though it stands in our list as a crown presentation, is

alternately in the gift of Sir John Elliot of Stobs, and Cavers Douglas.

I shall be much obliged to you, if, without mentioning the reason, you

could make inquiries, and give me information.

"You have heard, no doubt, that all our negotiations have vanished, and

that our present ministry is settled on a firmer basis than ever. Mr.

Conway's delicacy of honour was satisfied, by bringing his old friends

the Rockinghams to have an offer; and as it was impossible for them to

concert a ministry, he has agreed to act cordially with the Duke of

Grafton: the king is very happy that no changes are to have place. I do

not reckon the change in Ireland for any thing, because Lord Bristol

goes out at his own earnest and repeated desire. I am told that Lord

Townsend openly ascribes his own promotion entirely to the friendship of

Lord Bute. Charles Fitzroy lately, in a great meeting, proposed Lord

Bute's health in a bumper. It will be a surprise to you certainly, if

that noble lord should again come into fashion, and openly avow his

share of influence, and be openly courted by all the world. I am, dear

Sir Gilbert, yours sincerely."[407:1]

"_10th Sept. 1767._

"DEAR SIR GILBERT,--Lord North has refused the office of Chancellor

of the Exchequer; though it was earnestly pressed upon him, and

though he professed an entire satisfaction with every person in the

administration. He dreads the labour of the office, especially as it

obliges him to take so great a part in the business of the House of

Commons. It will not probably be offered to any Scotsman, for fear of

popular reflections concerning the influence of the Thane. The same

objection, as well as others, lie against Dyson, who has been thought

of. I see the ministry in some perplexity; perhaps this incident may

draw on new resignations and negotiations, and cabals. I think one

defect of the present situation of our government is, that nobody

desires much to have any share in the administration, except

adventurers, of whom the public is naturally distrustful. The pecuniary

emoluments are of no consideration to men of rank and fortune. You have

often more personal regard from being in the opposition. The protection

of the law is at all times sufficient for your security; and by

acquiring authority you are exposed to insults, instead of gaining the

power to revenge them.[408:1] Why, then, should a man of birth, fortune,

and parts, sacrifice his fame and peace to an ungrateful public? Such is

the defect that arises from the perfection of the most perfect

government."[408:2]

The next in the chronological order of Hume's letters, reverts to the

prospect of his continuing his History.

HUME _to_ ANDREW MILLAR.

"_19th October, 1767._

"DEAR SIR,--The picture which Donaldson has done for me is a drawing;

and, in every body's opinion, as well as my own, is the likest that has

been done for me, as well as the best likeness. Since you still insist

that an engraving should be made from it, we are [thus] more likely to

have a good engraving made than by any other means. I shall, however, be

glad to sit to Ferguson.[409:1] I intend to give up all my leisure time

to the correction of my History, and to contrive more leisure than I

have possessed since I came into public office. I had run over four

volumes; but I shall give them a second perusal, and employ the same, or

greater accuracy in correcting the other four. I shall read carefully

all the records in the Paper Office, as far back as they go, and shall

leave nothing untried that may bestow the greatest exactness upon it.

For this reason, as well as many others, I would not have you

precipitate this edition, which is probably the last that I may have

occasion to make. I would wish to leave that work as little imperfect as

possible to posterity. I am," &c.[409:2]

Gibbon tells us, in his amusing autobiography, that with the assistance

of his friend Deyverdun, he had written in French a portion of a history

of Switzerland, and that the opinions he heard expressed when a fragment

of it was anonymously read before a society in London, prompted him to

abandon the work, and burn the portion he had written. "I delivered," he

says, "my imperfect sketches to the flames." Yet, singularly enough, he

seems to have confounded the intention with the fulfilment, for they

were discovered after his death, but were not thought worthy of being

published by his literary executor, Lord Sheffield.[409:3] Gibbon had

endeavoured to find for his friend Deyverdun some employment in

England, picturesquely observing, that his own "purse was always open,

but it was often empty." They wrote in company some numbers of a

periodical, now very rare, called "Mémoires Littéraires de La Grande

Bretagne," and Gibbon informs us that these specimens of their labours

introduced them to the notice of Hume,[410:1] in whose office Deyverdun

held an appointment at the date of the following letter:--

GIBBON _to_ HUME.

_Baiton, 4th October, 1767._

SIR,--A six years' residence in Switzerland inspired me with

the design of writing a general history of that brave and free

people, so little known to the rest of Europe, but whom I had

studied with some attention. This design was dropt almost as

soon as conceived, from the almost insurmountable difficulty

of procuring proper materials, as they were mostly in German,

a language I am totally unacquainted with. A Swiss gentleman,

and intimate friend of mine, has removed that difficulty. Mr.

Deyverdun, who passed the summer with me in the country two

years ago, approved very much my design, and offered to assist

me by translating what was most difficult, himself, and by

superintending a German translator, as to the remainder. He is

now returning to London after a much shorter visit than I

desired; and as he has the happiness of supporting some

connexion with you, I flattered myself that you might indulge

a wish, perhaps presumptuous, that I had conceived, and that

you would condescend to glance your eye over the sheets of

this History, which I had already drawn up in a language

indeed foreign to an Englishman, but which the favourable

reception of a former essay engaged me to make use of.

Give me leave, sir, to add, that I must beg you to consider

this liberty as a proof of my respect; and that I shall

consider your severity as a mark of your esteem. If you

advise me to burn what I have already wrote, I shall

immediately execute your sentence, with a full persuasion that

it is just. Let me say, however, I have perhaps vanity enough

to make so unlimited a sacrifice to no man in Europe but to

Mr. Hume. I am, sir, with the greatest esteem, your most

obedient humble servant,

E. GIBBON, Junior.[411:1]

HUME _to_ GIBBON.

"_London, 24th October, 1767._

"SIR,--It is but a few days since Mr. Deyverdun put your manuscript into

my hands; and I have perused it with great pleasure and satisfaction. I

have only one objection, derived from the language in which it is

written. Why do you compose in French, and carry fagots into the wood,

as Horace says, with regard to the Romans who wrote in Greek? I grant,

that you have a like motive to those Romans, and adopt a language much

more generally diffused than your native tongue: but have you not

remarked the fate of those two ancient languages in following ages? The

Latin, though then less celebrated, and confined to more narrow limits,

has, in some measure, outlived the Greek, and is now more generally

understood by men of letters. Let the French, therefore, triumph in the

present diffusion of their tongue. Our solid and increasing

establishments in America, where we need less dread the inundation of

barbarians, promise a superior stability and duration to the English

language.

"Your use of the French tongue has also led you into a style more

poetical and figurative, and more highly coloured, than our language

seems to admit of in historical productions: for such is the practice of

French writers, particularly the more recent ones, who illuminate their

pictures more than custom will permit us. On the whole, your History, in

my opinion, is written with spirit and judgment; and I exhort you very

earnestly to continue it. The objections that occurred to me on reading

it were so frivolous, that I shall not trouble you with them, and

should, I believe, have a difficulty to collect them. I am, with great

esteem," &c.[412:1]

Some remarks communicated to Dr. Robertson, on his "History of Charles

V." while that work was passing through the press, have deservedly

attracted notice by their unconstrained and natural playfulness.

HUME _to_ DR. ROBERTSON.

I got yesterday from Strahan about thirty sheets of your

History to be sent over to Suard, and last night and this

morning have run them over with great avidity. I could not

deny myself the satisfaction (which I hope also will not

displease you) of expressing presently my extreme approbation

of them. To say only that they are very well written, is by

far too faint an expression, and much inferior to the

sentiments I feel. They are composed with nobleness, with

dignity, with elegance, and with judgment, to which there are

few equals. They even excel, and, I think, in a sensible

degree, your "History of Scotland." I propose to myself great

pleasure in being the only man in England, during some months,

who will be in the situation of doing you justice,--after

which you may certainly expect that my voice will be drowned

in that of the public.

You know that you and I have always been on the footing of

finding in each other's productions _something to blame, and

something to commend_; and therefore you may perhaps expect

also some seasoning of the former kind; but really neither my

leisure nor inclination allowed me to make such remarks; and I

sincerely believe you have afforded me very small materials

for them. However, such particulars as occur to my memory, I

shall mention. _Maltreat_ is a Scoticism which occurs once.

What the devil had you to do with that old fashioned dangling

word _wherewith_? I should as soon take back _whereupon_,

_whereunto_, and _wherewithal_. I think the only tolerable

decent gentleman of the family is _wherein_; and I should not

choose to be often seen in his company. But I know your

affection for _wherewith_ proceeds from your partiality to

Dean Swift, whom I can often laugh with, whose style I can

even approve, but surely can never admire. It has no harmony,

no eloquence, no ornament; and not much correctness, whatever

the English may imagine. Were not their literature still in a

somewhat barbarous state, that author's place would not be so

high among their classics. But what a fancy is this you have

taken of saying always _an hand_, _an heart_, _an head_? Have

you _an ear_? Do you not know that this (n) is added before

vowels to prevent the cacophony, and ought never to take place

before (h) when that letter is sounded? It is never pronounced

in these words; why should it be wrote? Thus, I should say, _a

history_, and _an historian_; and so would you too, if you had

any sense. But you tell me that Swift does otherwise. To be

sure there is no reply to that; and we must swallow your

_hath_ too upon the same authority. I will see you d----d

sooner. But I will endeavour to keep my temper.

I do not like this sentence in page 149: _This step was taken

in consequence of the treaty Wolsey had concluded with the

Emperor at Brussels, and which had hitherto been kept secret._

Si sic omnia dixisses, I should never have been plagued with

hearing your praises so often sounded, and that fools

preferred your style to mine. Certainly it had been better to

have said, _which_ Wolsey, &c. That relative ought very seldom

to be omitted; and is here particularly requisite to preserve

a symmetry between the two members of the sentence. You omit

the relative too often, which is a colloquial barbarism, as Mr

Johnson calls it.

Your periods are sometimes, though not often, too long. Suard

will be embarrassed with them, as the modish French style runs

into the other extreme.[413:1]

Turgot, at the instigation of some Italian friends, had applied to Hume

to recommend a scholar, who would undertake to teach the English

language and literature at Parma. He selected Robert Liston; but he had

overlooked an objection which the enlightened promoters of the scheme in

Italy appear to have considered too obvious to require preliminary

explanation, that Liston was a Protestant! In returning thanks to Hume

for the unavailing recommendation, Liston discovers the bent of his

genius, by desiring that, if an opportunity should occur, Hume would

recommend him as secretary of legation to any of the secondary

embassies. The fate of the Parma scheme was thus communicated to Elliot.

HUME _to_ SIR GILBERT ELLIOT.

"_London, 5th July, 1768._

"DEAR SIR GILBERT,--I beg of you to direct the enclosed to poor Liston,

who will be disappointed in the scheme for Parma: they will have nothing

but a Papist. Such fools! Let the Pope excommunicate them on the one

hand: I will do so on the other.

"I have seen a book newly printed at Edinburgh, called 'Philosophical

Essays:' it has no manner of sense in it, but is wrote with tolerable

neatness of style: whence I conjecture it to be our friend, Sir

David's.[414:1] I am obliged to him for the treatment which he destines

me, to be locked up for five years in a dungeon, and then to be hanged,

and my carcass to be thrown out of Scotland. He supports himself,

indeed, by the authority of Plato, whom I own to be truly divine. Pray,

have you seen the book? Is it Sir David's? I think it has not so many

attempts at humour, as that pious gentleman would employ.

"We are all very quiet here; as quiet as you are at Minto, though

perhaps not so busy. No more noise of Wilkes and Liberty. Lord Mansfield

said to me, that it was impossible for him to condemn him to the

pillory, because the attorney-general did not demand it. Yesterday he

represented to the Spanish ambassador, that moderate sentence, as a

refinement in politics, which reduced the scoundrel the sooner to

obscurity. It would be a strange cause, which he could not find

plausible reasons to justify.

"I beg to be remembered to Lady Elliot, and to any of your family who

may be at Minto. I ever am, dear Sir Gilbert, yours sincerely."[415:1]

SIR GILBERT ELLIOT _to_ HUME.

"_Minto, 11th July, 1768._

"I am sorry, my dear sir, for poor Liston's disappointment. I

am told he thought himself secure. I have seen the book you

mention; but you do injustice to our friend Sir David. He is

not the author; but a very moral and worthy man, who, I

believe, once had the honour to attend you in some of your

writings before,--his name James Balfour--at least I am told

so. The young feudal author, Gilbert Stewart, is just now in

my neighbourhood; and, his father tells me, impatient, to a

great degree, for your letter. It seems he is much your

admirer. However, I hope my criticisms, on some parts of his

work, may keep him from carrying his admiration, on some

points, too far. Not that I mean to close with my friend, Mr.

Balfour, in his candid proposition for treating you after the

manner of the divine Plato. I rest entirely on you for

politics, changes of ministry, foreign politics, and domestic

occurrences. I have now no correspondents; and I did not think

it prudent to engage with any ministerial men; as I might be

led, in such a correspondence, to commit mistakes, which may

be inconvenient next winter. Farming, I find, is very

expensive--days' wages now at a shilling; but our fields are

green, and the hedges thrive. I hope to see your brother this

autumn. He is very orthodox, I am told, so far as husbandry

goes. I hope to hear your love affair, and your King William,

are in a good way. My wife not yet arrived. Yours," &c.[416:1]

Gilbert Stuart, then unknown to fame, whether good or bad, and still

possessed of any small portion of modesty he had ever been endowed with,

was about to publish his little work on the British constitution, the

temporary celebrity of which had so prejudicial an effect on his

subsequent career. We shall afterwards have an opportunity of noticing

him on an occasion when he seems to have thought that the relation which

Hume and he bore to each other, in 1768, of humble admirer and

distinguished patron, was reversed in his favour.

HUME _to_ SIR GILBERT ELLIOT.

"_22d July, 1768._

"DEAR SIR GILBERT,--I send you my letter enclosed to Mr. Stewart; which

I hope is calculated to encourage a young man of merit. Without

overstraining the compliment, it were better, however, for him, and for

every body, to pursue, in preference to the idle trade of writing, some

other lawful occupation, such as cheating like an attorney; quacking

like a physician; canting and hypocrising like a parson, &c. &c. &c. It

is for very little purpose to go out of the common track. Does he

expect to make men wiser? a very pretty expectation truly!

"I fancy the ministry will remain; though surely their late remissness,

or ignorance, or pusillanimity, ought to make them ashamed to show their

faces, were it even at Newmarket. There are fine doings in America. O!

how I long to see America and the East Indies revolted, totally and

finally,--the revenue reduced to half,--public credit fully discredited

by bankruptcy,--the third of London in ruins, and the rascally mob

subdued! I think I am not too old to despair of being witness to all

these blessings. I approve of your farming scheme, notwithstanding the

expense; though your situation, as well for markets as means of

improvement, is not advantageous. My brother's advice may be of use to

you; but you are always to remember that he is of the sect of the

_médecin tant pis_; had he possessed enterprise, proportioned to his

industry and skill, he might have gone far in that way.[417:1]

"I continue my parasitical practices; that is, of dining at all the

great tables that remain in London. We are likely to be plagued with

this King of Denmark; though not so much as formerly with Canute the

Great. I have some thoughts of paying a visit to France this autumn;

that is, if I can collect enough of resolution to leave the present

place of abode.

"When I wrote last, I did not know that Lady ---- had eloped; that

practice continues very fashionable here; and it is to be hoped will

spread itself more and more every day!

"I thought Sir David had been the only Christian that could write

English on the other side of the Tweed. I did not think of Balfour. It

is very true he would fain, I see, be candid, and civil, as in his other

book; if his zeal for the house of the Lord would permit him.

"Lord Bute certainly sets out this day se'ennight, and, it is said, is

in a very bad state of health.

"Lord Chatham is a greater paradox than ever:--is seen at home by no

human creature;--absolutely by none! rides twenty miles every day,--is

seen on the road, and appears in perfect good health; but will now speak

to no creature he meets. I am much persuaded, all is quackery;--he is

not mad; that is, no madder than usual."[418:1]

Towards the end of the year 1768, poor Smollett, with his spirit crushed

by the united calamities of a broken constitution and ruined fortunes,

sought to retrieve his health, by travelling in Italy. Before commencing

his journey, he wrote the following letter; in which the too apparent

tone of despondency is yet insufficient to damp the kindly warmth of his

feelings:--

TOBIAS SMOLLETT _to_ HUME.

_London, 31st August, 1768._

DEAR SIR,--Perhaps I overrate my own consequence when I

presume to recommend to your acquaintance and good offices,

the bearer, Captain Robert Stobo; a man whose very

extraordinary services and sufferings in America, have

merited, and obtained the most ample and honourable

testimonials, which he will gladly submit to your perusal. I

can safely say from my own knowledge, that he is not less

modest and sensible in the conversation and occurrences of

civil life, than enterprising and indefatigable in his

military capacity. All these good qualities, united to an

extensive knowledge of our American concerns, cannot fail to

engage the friendship and regard of Mr. David Hume, from what

quarter so ever they may come recommended.

With respect to myself, I am sorry I cannot have the pleasure

of taking leave of you in person, before I go into perpetual

exile. I sincerely wish you all health and happiness. In

whatever part of the earth it may be my fate to reside, I

shall always remember with pleasure, and recapitulate with

pride, the friendly intercourse I have maintained with one of

the best men, and undoubtedly the best writer of the age; if

any judgment in distinguishing either character or capacity

may be allowed to, dear sir, your very humble servant,

T{S} SMOLLETT.

Nos patriam fugimus: tu, Tityre, lentus in umbra,

Formosam resonare doces Amaryllida silvas.[419:1]

HUME _to_ TOBIAS SMOLLETT.

"_Ragley,[419:2] September 21, 1768._

"MY DEAR SIR,--I did not see your friend, Captain Stobo, till the day

before I left Cirencester, and only for a little time; but he seemed to

be a man of good sense, and has surely had the most extraordinary

adventures in the world. He has promised to call on me when he comes to

London, and I shall always see him with pleasure.

"But what is this you tell me of your perpetual exile, and of your never

returning to this country? I hope that as this idea arose from the bad

state of your health, it will vanish on your recovery; which, from your

past experience, you may expect from those happier climates to which you

are retiring; after which the desire of revisiting your native country

will probably return upon you, unless the superior cheapness of foreign

countries prove an obstacle, and detain you there. I could wish that

means had been fallen on to remove this objection; and that at least it

might be equal to you to live any where, except where the consideration

of your health gave the preference to one climate above another. But the

indifference of ministers towards literature, which has been long, and

indeed always, the case in England, gives little prospect of any

alteration in this particular.

"I am sensible of your great partiality, in the good opinion you express

towards me; but it gives me no less pleasure than if it were founded on

the greatest truth, for I accept it as a pledge of your good will and

friendship. I wish an opportunity of showing my sense of it may present

itself during your absence. I assure you I should embrace it with great

alacrity, and you need have no scruple, on every occasion, of having

recourse to me. I am, my dear sir, with great esteem and sincerity, your

most obedient, and most humble servant," &c.[420:1]

Of the following remarkable letter, the first paragraph, relating to the

success of John Home's new play, has already been published.[420:2] The

remainder will probably be as surprising to the reader as it is new. It

is very evident that Hume exercised towards the great Chatham, Dr.

Johnson's virtue of honest hatred. There was indeed little love lost

between these great contemporaries; for Chatham fiercely attacked the

constitutional doctrines of the History of England, and Hume looked upon

the national idol as an unprincipled demagogue. The words with which

the observations on the Douglas cause conclude, are evidence of the

contempt which, amidst all his Tory prepossessions, Hume preserved for

merely hereditary rank, and indeed for all nominal and outward marks of

distinction, which were not allied to intellectual superiority.

HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.

"_Park Place, London, 28th March, 1769._

"DEAR DOCTOR,--'The Fatal Discovery' succeeded, and deserved it. It has

feeling, though not equal to 'Douglas,' in my opinion. The versification

of it is not enough finished. Our friend escaped by lying concealed; but

the success of all plays in this age is very feeble; and people now heed

the theatre almost as little as the pulpit.[421:1] History now is the

favourite reading, and our other friend[421:2] the favourite historian.

Nothing can be more successful than his last production; nor more

deservedly. I agree with you, it is beyond his first performance, as was

indeed natural to be expected. I hope, for a certain reason, which I

keep to myself, that he does not intend, in his third work, to go beyond

his second, though I am damnably afraid he will, for the subject is much

more interesting. Neither the character of Charles V., nor the incidents

of his life, are very interesting; and, were it not for the first

volume, the success of this work, though perfectly well writ, would not

have been so shining.

"This madness about Wilkes excited first indignation, then apprehension;

but has gone to such a height that all other sentiments with me are

buried in ridicule. This exceeds the absurdity of Titus Gates and the

Popish plot: and is so much more disgraceful to the nation, as the

former folly, being derived from religion, flowed from a source which

has from uniform prescription acquired a right to impose nonsense on all

nations and all ages. But the present extravagance is peculiar to

ourselves, and quite risible. However, I am afraid my mirth will soon be

spoilt, and affairs become quite serious; for I am well assured that

Lord Chatham will, after the holidays, creep out from his retreat and

appear on the scene.

Depositis novus exuviis, nitidusque juventâ,

Volvitur ad solem et linguis micat ore trisulcis.

"I know not if I cite Virgil exactly,[422:1] but I am sure I apply him

right. This villain is to thunder against the violation of the Bill of

Rights in not allowing the county of Middlesex the choice of its

member! Think of the impudence of that fellow,[423:1] and his

quackery--and his cunning--and his audaciousness: and judge of the

influence he will have over such a deluded multitude.

"I was struck with a very sensible indignation at the decision of the

Douglas cause,[423:2] though I foresaw it for some time. It was

abominable with regard to poor Andrew Stuart, who had conducted that

cause with singular ability and integrity; and was at last exposed to

reproach, which unfortunately never can be wiped off. For the cause,

though not in the least intricate, is so complicated, that it never will

be reviewed by the public, who are besides perfectly pleased with the

sentence; being swayed by compassion and a few popular topics. To one

who understands the cause as I do, nothing could appear more scandalous

than the pleadings of the two law lords. Such gross misrepresentation,

such impudent assertions, such groundless imputations, never came from

that place. But all was good enough for their audience; who, bating

their quality, are most of them little better than their brethren the

Wilkites in the streets.

"I am very much obliged to you for giving me the acquaintance of your

cousin, Mr. Blair,[423:3] who seems, indeed, to me, a very accomplished

young man. The death of your brother-in-law is a great loss to you, and

even to us all. I comprehend myself; for I intend to visit you soon, and

for good and all. Indeed, I know not what detains me here, except that

it is so much a matter of indifference where I live; and I am amused

with looking on the scene, which really begins to be interesting. I had

taken one of Allan Ramsay's houses;[424:1] but gave it up again, on the

representation of some of my friends in Edinburgh, who said that a

house, on the north side of a high hill, in the 56th degree of latitude,

could not be healthful. But I now repent it, though I have my old house

to retreat to till I get a better. I am glad you like my nephew. He is,

indeed, clever, though, I am afraid, a little giddy.[424:2]"

Andrew Stuart, who is noticed in the preceding letter, and has

frequently been referred to in Hume's correspondence, was a man of great

talent. His letters to Lord Mansfield, on the Douglas cause, remarkable

for their solemn asperity, belong to a species of literature, of which

the English language scarcely boasts of any other instance,--a

systematic and serious arraignment of the conduct of a Judge in the

highest court in the realm, by the law agent of a litigant! Stuart

conducted the investigations in France, on which the evidence that the

children said to be born to Lady Jane Douglas were spurious, was

founded; and from the strange circumstances brought forward in the

evidence, we can imagine that, if Stuart had left a diary of his

adventures and inquiries, few works of fiction could be more

interesting. His arraignment of the judge was accompanied by an act

almost equally anomalous: his challenging the counsel on the other

side--who was Mr. Wedderburn, afterwards Lord Loughborough--on account

of the manner in which his conduct had been spoken of in the appeal

case. The challenge was accepted; but neither party was wounded. From

occasional allusions, in Hume's correspondence, he and Stuart appear to

have been early friends; and many of the letters, which he preserved,

within a few years of his death, are from Stuart, who, occasionally,

appears to write in acknowledgment of pecuniary advances. Among Hume's

papers, there is a letter, of which the address has not been preserved,

but in which there is a note, in Baron Hume's handwriting, that it was,

"respecting his friend Stuart--Andrew, I suppose." The letter has a

sufficient interest in itself. It is as follows:--

"MY DEAR SIR,--Nothing can be more just than the sentiment you have

expressed in your letter. I am to be envied for having had it in my

power to contribute to the happiness of the best man, and the most

intimate friend I have ever had in the world. There is nothing else in

the possession of a fortune that deserves the least envy or the least

consideration. Every man is independent who thinks himself so. But every

man has not been blessed with such a friend, or with the power of

showing, in some small degree, the value he puts upon worth, delicacy,

attachment, and ability like his. It adds to my happiness not a little,

that your sentiments coincide so entirely with mine. You have known

Stuart enough to value him as much as I do; and he has too much

discernment not to put the same high value upon you, which you have

commanded from every one of your friends."

Hume received a letter from the Abbé Morellet, dated 15th May

1769,[426:1] requesting him to accept of a copy of his forthcoming

"Prospectus d'un Nouveau Dictionnaire de Commerce;" and to distribute

some others among a list of names, including those of Adam Smith and

Benjamin Franklin. The comprehensive work of which the Abbé thus

developed what he considered the proper principles, was never written by

him. He was too much occupied with fugitive literature, and the

absorbing politics of the time, to be able seriously to pursue a project

involving so much steady industry. Hume answered as follows:--

HUME _to the_ ABBÉ MORELLET.

_London, 10th July, 1769._

That part of your prospectus, in which you endeavour to prove

that there enters nothing of human convention in the

establishment of money, is certainly very curious, and very

elaborately composed; and yet I cannot forbear thinking that

the common opinion has some foundation. It is true, money must

always be made of some materials, which have intrinsic value,

otherwise it would be multiplied without end, and would sink

to nothing. But, when I take a shilling, I consider it not as

a useful metal, but as something which another will take from

me; and the person who shall convert it into metal is,

probably, several millions of removes distant. You know that

all states have made it criminal to melt their coin; and,

though this is a law which cannot well be executed, it is not

to be supposed that, if it could, it would entirely destroy

the value of the money, according to your hypothesis. You have

a base coin, called billon, in France, composed of silver and

copper, which has a ready currency, though the separation of

the two metals, and the reduction of them to their primitive

state, would, I am told, be both expensive and troublesome.

Our shillings and sixpences, which are almost our only silver

coin, are so much worn by use, that they are twenty, thirty,

or forty per cent. below their original value; yet they pass

currently; which can arise only from a tacit convention. Our

colonies in America, for want of specie, used to coin a paper

currency; which were not bank notes, because there was no

place appointed to give money in exchange: yet this paper

currency passed in all payments, by convention; and might have

gone on, had it not been abused by the several assemblies, who

issued paper without end, and thereby discredited the

currency.

You mention several kinds of money, sheep, oxen, fish,

employed as measures of exchange, or as money, in different

parts of the world. You have overlooked that, in our colony of

Pennsylvania, the land itself, which is the chief commodity,

is coined, and passes in circulation. The manner of conducting

this affair is as follows:--A planter, immediately after he

purchases any land, can go to a public office and receive

notes to the amount of half the value of his land; which notes

he employs in all payments, and they circulate through the

whole colony, by convention. To prevent the public from being

overwhelmed by this fictitious money, there are two means

employed--first, the notes issued to any one planter, must not

exceed a certain sum, whatever may be the value of his land:

secondly, every planter is obliged to pay back into the public

office every year one-tenth part of his notes; the whole, of

course, is annihilated in ten years; after which, it is again

allowed him to take out new notes to half the value of his

land. An account of this curious operation would enrich your

dictionary; and you may have a more particular detail of it,

if you please, from Dr. Franklin, who will be in Paris about

this time, and will be glad to see you. I conveyed to him your

prospectus, and he expressed to me a great esteem of it.

I see that, in your prospectus, you take care not to disoblige

your economists, by any declaration of your sentiments; in

which I commend your prudence. But I hope that in your work

you will thunder them, and crush them, and pound them, and

reduce them to dust and ashes! They are, indeed, the set of

men the most chimerical and most arrogant that now exist,

since the annihilation of the Sorbonne. I ask your pardon for

saying so, as I know you belong to that venerable body. I

wonder what could engage our friend, M. Turgot, to herd among

them; I mean, among the economists; though I believe he was

also a Sorbonnist.

I sent your prospectus to Dr. Tucker, but have not heard from

him since. I shall myself deliver copies to Dr. Robertson and

Mr. Smith, as I go to Scotland this autumn.

And now, my dear Abbé, what remains to me but to wish you

success in your judicious labours? to embrace you, and through

you, to embrace all our common friends, D'Alembert, Helvétius,

Buffon, Baron d'Holbach, Suard, Mlle. L'Espinasse? Poor Abbé

Le Bon is dead, I hear. The Abbé Galliani goes to Naples: he

does well to leave Paris before I come thither; for I should

certainly put him to death for all the ill he has spoken of

England. But it has happened, as was foretold by his friend,

Caraccioli; who said that the Abbé would remain two months in

this country, would speak all himself, would not allow an

Englishman to utter a syllable; and after returning would give

the character of the nation during the rest of his life, as if

he were perfectly well acquainted with them.

Pray make my compliments to M. Maletête. Tell him, that Prince

Masserane says, that he has saved much effusion of blood to

this country. It is certain that M. Maletête had a great

curiosity to see a riot here, and yet was resolved to keep his

person in safety. For this purpose, he hired a window; and

proposed to be present at one of the mad elections of Wilkes,

and to divert himself with the fray. Somebody got a hint of

it, and put it into the newspapers; asking the freeholders if

they were so degenerate as to make themselves a laughing

stock, even to the French, their enemies, whom they despised.

Prince Masserane alleges that this incident made that election

so remarkably peaceable!

Are you acquainted with Crébillon? I am ashamed to mention his

name. He sent me over his last work, with a very obliging

letter: but as I must write to him in French, I have never

answered him. If all the English were as impertinent as I am,

the Abbé Galliani would have reason to abuse us.--I am, dear

Abbé, after asking your blessing, yours sincerely.[428:1]

"I returned to Edinburgh in 1769," says Hume in his "own Life," "very

opulent, (for I possessed a revenue of £1000 a-year) healthy, and though

somewhat stricken in years, with the prospect of enjoying long my ease,

and of seeing the increase of my reputation." He had thus finally

triumphed over the temptations which assailed him abroad, and resolved

to spend the remainder of his days among the friends of his youth. He

had received very strong solicitations from Madame de Boufflers and

others, to take up his abode at Paris. In one letter she informs him

that there is a house prepared for him in the Temple, and another with a

large garden near the Bois de Boulogne.[429:1] To these pressing offers

he seems not to have trusted himself with rendering a direct answer,

leaving his projects undefined, until, by returning to Edinburgh, he

rendered the acceptance of such invitations impracticable. Fairly

re-established in his old house in James's Court, and enjoying its

magnificent prospect, we find him thus writing to Smith:--

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_James's Court, 20th August, 1769._

"DEAR SMITH,--I am glad to have come within sight of you, and to have a

view of Kirkaldy from my windows: but as I wish also to be within

speaking terms of you, I wish we could concert measures for that

purpose. I am mortally sick at sea, and regard with horror, and a kind

of hydrophobia, the great gulf[429:2] that lies between us. I am also

tired of travelling; as much as you ought naturally to be of staying at

home. I therefore propose to you to come hither, and pass some days with

me in this solitude. I want to know what you have been doing; and

propose to exact a rigorous account of the method in which you have

employed yourself during your retreat. I am positive you are in the

wrong in many of your speculations, especially where you have the

misfortune to differ from me. All these are reasons for our meeting, and

I wish you would make me some reasonable proposal for that purpose.

There is no habitation on the island of Inchkeith, otherwise I should

challenge you to meet me on that spot, and neither of us ever to leave

the place, till we were fully agreed on all points of controversy. I

expect General Conway here to morrow, whom I shall attend to Roseneath,

and I shall remain there a few days. On my return, I expect to find a

letter from you, containing a bold acceptance of this defiance. I am,

dear Smith, yours sincerely."[430:1]

The letters addressed to Hume at this time, show that he had made

inquiries with the view of continuing the education of his nephews at

one of the English universities. The following letter explains the

reason why this plan was not adopted.

HUME _to_ SIR GILBERT ELLIOT.

"_Edinburgh, 16th October, 1769._

"DEAR SIR GILBERT,--I am very much obliged to you for the pains you have

taken to give me an account of your sons' expenses and management at

Oxford. I found my brother undetermined, or rather averse, to the

project. He thinks his son rather inclines to be dissipated and idle;

and believes that a year or two at Oxford would confirm him thoroughly

in that habit, without any other advantage than the acquiring of a

little better pronunciation; for this reason he seems rather inclined to

try him a year in the Law College here, before he makes him so much his

own master.

"I have been settled here two months, and am here body and soul, without

casting the least thought of regret to London, or even to Paris. I think

it improbable that I shall ever in my life cross the Tweed, except

perhaps a jaunt to the north of England, for health or amusement. I live

still, and must for a twelvemonth, in my old house in James's Court,

which is very cheerful, and even elegant, but too small to display my

great talent for cookery, the science to which I intend to addict the

remaining years of my life! I have just now lying on the table before

me, a receipt for making _soupe à la reine_, copied with my own hand:

for beef and cabbage, (a charming dish,) and old mutton, and old claret,

nobody excels me. I make also sheep-head broth, in a manner that Mr.

Keith speaks of it for eight days after; and the Duc de Nivernois would

bind himself apprentice to my lass to learn it. I have already sent a

challenge to David Moncreif: you will see that in a twelvemonth he will

take to the writing of history, the field I have deserted; for as to the

giving of dinners, he can now have no further pretensions. I should have

made a very bad use of my abode in Paris, if I could not get the better

of a mere provincial like him. All my friends encourage me in this

ambition; as thinking it will redound very much to my honour.

"I am delighted to see the daily and hourly progress of madness, and

folly, and wickedness in England. The consummation of these qualities

are the true ingredients for making a fine narrative in history,

especially if followed by some signal and ruinous convulsion,--as I

hope will soon be the case with that pernicious people! He must be a

very bad cook indeed, who cannot make a palatable dish from the whole.

You see in my reflexions and allusions, I shall mix my old and new

professions together. I am, dear Sir Gilbert, your most obedient humble

servant," &c.[432:1]

HUME _to_ SIR GILBERT ELLIOT.

"_Edinburgh, 5th February, 1770._

"DEAR SIR GILBERT,--I do not know whether you be good for any thing, or

at all worth the applying to; I rather suspect not: but in case you are,

I make you the following application in favour of Christopher Tate,

probationer, who was tutor to my nephews. You know I resigned my

pretensions on the presentation of Humbie to your nephew's tutor; but

under promise, that you would assist me in a like case. This kirk is a

king's presentation; it is within your county, and I very earnestly

desire success in this application, and trust much to your friendship in

it.

"The last unexpected incident strikes us mute with astonishment; either

the Duke of Grafton is much to blame for leaving us so abruptly in so

very critical a time, or a greater than he, if he got any just cause for

it. I carry my view to very dismal consequences, especially as I suspect

the last to be the case. I fancy we shall have curious scenes, worthy

the pen of the greatest historian. I am tired and disgusted with

conjecture. My compliments to Lady Elliot. Believe me to be very

sincerely, your affectionate humble servant," &c.[432:2]

To Smith, whose "Wealth of Nations" was now supposed to be nearly ready

for the press, we find the following letter:--

"_6th February, 1770._

"What is the meaning of this, dear Smith, which we hear, that you are

not to be here above a day or two, on your passage to London? How can

you so much as entertain a thought of publishing a book full of reason,

sense, and learning, to those wicked abandoned madmen?

"I suppose you have not yet got over your astonishment at this most

astonishing resignation. For my part, I knew not at first whether to

throw the blame on the Duke or the King; but I now find it is entirely

and completely the Duke's own; and I think him dishonoured for ever."

This refers to the Duke of Grafton's resignation, of which he proceeds

to quote an account from "a very good hand," prophesying tranquillity

and the restoration of confidence.

"So far my friend--whose prophecy I hope will be fulfilled; though, for

my part, I am rather inclined to give myself up to despair. Nothing but

a rebellion and bloodshed will open the eyes of that deluded people;

though, were they alone concerned, I think it is no matter what becomes

of them."[433:1]

In the following letter, we have a farther, and a very strong instance

of Hume's dislike of the English as a people. We find him again busy in

sifting his History of all remains of popular principles; and there is a

tone throughout the letter, as if it were satisfactory to him to be able

to overturn the objects of popular idolatry, which a people he so

heartily disliked had endeavoured to set up, in the alleged antiquity of

their constitution.

HUME _to_ SIR GILBERT ELLIOT.

"_Edinburgh, 21st February, 1770._

"DEAR SIR GILBERT,--I am glad of your victories; though I look upon them

all as temporary and imperfect, like the fallacious recoveries of a

hectic person, who is hastening to his dissolution. Our government has

become a chimera, and is too perfect, in point of liberty, for so rude a

beast as an Englishman; who is a man, a bad animal too, corrupted by

above a century of licentiousness. The misfortune is, that this liberty

can scarcely be retrenched without danger of being entirely lost; at

least the fatal effects of licentiousness must first be made palpable,

by some extreme mischief resulting from it. I may wish that the

catastrophe should rather fall on our posterity; but it hastens on with

such large strides, as leave little room for this hope.

"I am running over again the last edition of my History, in order to

correct it still further. I either soften or expunge many villanous,

seditious Whig strokes, which had crept into it. I wish that my

indignation at the present madness, encouraged by lies, calumnies,

imposture, and every infamous act usual among popular leaders, may not

throw me into the opposite extreme. I am, however, sensible that the

first editions were too full of those foolish English prejudices, which

all nations and all ages disavow.

"The present firm conduct of the king, and his manly resentment, afford

some glimpse of hope. We, at a distance, are not acquainted with these

matters; and few even at London; but there still appears something

mysterious in the Duke of Grafton's resignation. I hope it proceeded

only from his discontents with Bedford House.

"But I detain you too long. I shall only conclude, that, though I reckon

myself among the _sepoliti_, I cannot forbear expressing my hearty good

wishes to your cause and you. I am, very sincerely, dear Sir Gilbert,

your obliged humble servant."[435:1]

"_Edinburgh, 5th April, 1770._

"I am sorry to inform you, that all we statesmen in this town condemn

loudly the conduct of you statesmen in London, especially in allowing

those insolent rascals, the mayor and sheriffs, to escape with impunity.

We were much disappointed not to find them impeached, and a bill of

pains and penalties passed upon them. The tumults which might have

ensued in London, we thought rather an advantage; as it would give

government an opportunity of chastising that abominable rabble. But you

have thought otherwise; and it is pretended that these lenient maxims

are succeeding; that faction abates, the tide turns, and the heroes of

opposition are in despair. I am heartily glad of it: but this is a new

experiment to reconcile such extreme license with government; and if, in

a case where popular complaints had not the smallest shadow of pretence,

the king and parliament have prevailed, after a long struggle, and with

much difficulty, what must it be, where there is some plausible

appearance, and perhaps some real ground of complaint, such as it is

natural to expect in all governments? However, I repeat it, I am glad of

the present appearance of tranquillity; and, indeed, distant dangers are

not to be too anxiously provided against. I am," &c.

Hume seems to have now commenced the building of the house, in the New

Town of Edinburgh, in which he died. It was the commencement of the

street leading southward from St. Andrew's Square, now called St. David

Street.[436:1]

HUME _to_ BARON MURE.

"_Edinburgh, 2d October, 1770._

"DEAR BARON,--I am sorry that I should correspond so ill to your very

obliging letter, by telling you, that I cannot propose to see you till

you come to town next winter. I am engaged in the building a house,

which is the second great operation of human life: for the taking a wife

is the first, which I hope will come in time; and by being present, I

have already prevented two capital mistakes, which the mason was falling

into; and I shall be apprehensive of his falling into more, were I to be

at a distance. I must therefore renounce the hopes of seeing you at your

own house this autumn, which, I assure [you,] I do with much regret. My

compliments to Mrs. Mure and the young ladies. Please tell Miss Kitty,

that my coat is much admired, even before I tell that it is her livery.

For her sake I shall be careful that it never meet with any such

accident, as the last. I am, dear Baron, yours very sincerely.[436:2]

"P.S.--Mr. Moore's verses are really very elegant."

FOOTNOTES:

[383:1] In the conclusion of Hume's letter to Dr. Blair, of 27th May,

1767, cited above, there is the following paragraph:--

"Pray, how has the General Assembly passed? I have had a long letter

from Mass David Dickson, complaining of your injustice. Has John Home

any thoughts of coming up? Tell Robertson that the compliment, at the

end of General Conway's letter to him, was of my composing, without any

orders from him. He smiled when he read it, but said it was very proper,

and signed it. These are not bad puffs from ministers of state, as the

silly world goes." I inferred from this that the letter in question was

the King's letter to the General Assembly of 1767; but I find no

allusion to Robertson in that document, and am not aware of any letter,

generally known at the period, which answers the above description. It

is clear that Hume refers to some official communication from the

secretary of state. The letter from Dickson is a long complaint about

the conduct of some judicatories as to a forgotten church dispute. It

begins with the statement;--"I am informed that His Majesty's letter to

the General Assembly, of this year, is issued from the secretary's

office, under your direction." As it is pretty generally believed that

the policy of the Home-office, in its communications with the Church of

Scotland, was directed by Hume, during the period when he was under

secretary, the following extract from the King's letter to the General

Assembly, in 1767, is given, that the reader may judge for himself

whether the style and matter are characteristic of Hume's pen:--

"Convinced, as we are, of your prudence and firm resolution to concur in

whatever may promote the happiness of our subjects, it is unnecessary

for us to recommend to you to avoid contentious and unedifying debates;

as well as to avoid every thing that may tend to disturb that harmony

and tranquillity which is so essential in councils solely calculated for

the suppression of every species of licentiousness, irreligion, and

vice. And, as we have the firmest reliance on your zeal in the support

of the Christian faith, as well as in the wisdom and prudence of your

councils, we are thoroughly assured that they will be directed to such

purposes as may best tend to enforce a conscientious observance of all

those duties which the true religion, and laws of this kingdom require,

and on which the felicity of every individual so essentially

depends."[383:A]

[383:A] MS. R.S.E.

[385:1] MS. R.S.E.

[385:2] See above, p. 56.

[386:1] MS. R.S.E.

[386:2] MS. R.S.E.

[388:1] MS. R.S.E.

[388:2] John Oswald, brother of Mr. Oswald of Dunnikier, who was

translated from the see of Dromore to that of Raphoe in 1763.

[390:1] MS. R.S.E.

[392:1] Copies in R.S.E. The originals are in possession of Colonel

Mure.

[392:2] _Literary Gazette_, 1822, p. 666. Original, MS. R.S.E.

[393:1] MS. R.S.E.

[394:1] MS. R.S.E.

[395:1] MS. R.S.E.

[395:2] MS. R.S.E.

[396:1] _Literary Gazette_. MS. R.S.E.

[397:1] MS. R.S.E.

[398:1] MS. R.S.E.

[398:2] An early acquaintance with this characteristic, might have saved

the present writer some fruitless investigations.

[399:1] There are two letters from Blacklock to Hume, remarkably

characteristic of the timid and excitable character of the blind genius.

After an exordium on the tone which he hopes their intercourse will

maintain, full of nervous susceptibility; the fear of being too profuse

in correspondence alternating with the dread that he may be thought

cold, negligent, or ungrateful; he gives an account of the education of

his pupil, Joseph, and then turns towards his own dark prospects.

"It was not indeed without some fear that I undertook the office. The

vivacity of his disposition, and even the quickness of his genius,

inspired me with terror that I should not be able to manage the one, or

make any lasting impression upon the other. But how agreeable was my

disappointment to find his temper, though lively, extremely amiable and

flexible, and his apprehension, though quick, yet distinct and

retentive. He applies with a diligence not often found in people of his

age and character. As during this winter we had a pretty numerous

family, most of whom were gentlemen of parts and spirit, I have seen

numberless instances in which his passions, though warm and sensible,

were governed with a discretion worthy of mature age and experience, yet

in such a manner as to preserve his dignity, and betray no degree of

complaisance unworthy of his spirit, or inconsistent with his ingenuity.

You cannot imagine but such an object must pre-engage every susceptible

heart. He is really admired by all the young gentlemen of our family who

know him. I love him, and Mrs. Blacklock doats on him; yet there are

not, perhaps, two in the human species who have it in their power to vex

me in the same degree, if at any time he should be more remiss and

careless than usual. He is now reading French with Mons{r} Cauvin, and

the Satires of Horace, and Homer's Iliad, with me.

"Mr. Alexander's account of my situation, in general, was right. I have

indeed got clear of a parish where I could have never been happy, even

though their malice had been less implacable than I found it. But when I

left that vindictive place, my poetical vanity was not quite

extinguished; and it is natural for those who have felt the oppressive

hand of unprovoked injury, to expect a kinder and more human reception,

where civility, politeness, and gentler manners prevail. These

sentiments, too sanguinely indulged, might perhaps have raised my hopes

too high, and taught me to anticipate a greater degree of notice from

the people of taste and learning in this place, than I have either

obtained or deserved. Be that as it will, I am at present almost an

absolute recluse; and when I meet with any of the virtuosi in public

places, (where, indeed, I do not commonly appear,) their behaviour seems

more cool and reserved than I could have thought. Not that all my

self-importance can flatter me with any degree of merit in this way; but

surely it was not unnatural to hope the enterprises which I attempted in

the circumstances in which I was involved, might have attracted some

degree of attention, and impressed some faint prepossessions in my

favour, when not opposed by any vice or immorality in my character. For

these reasons, as well as the private and disinterested attachment of my

heart, you will naturally imagine the pleasure I feel from the prospect

of your arrival in Edinburgh, and from my promised intercourse with one,

who, though he might do honour to the republic of letters in any period,

yet descends to honour me with the name of a FRIEND."

In the other letter, dated 2d May, 1767, he states that he has been

overworking himself; and says, "My old nervous complaints have been like

to return, and unhinge all our schemes; but, thank God, they are a

little better again." He then details, with some minuteness, the reasons

for feeling that his pecuniary prospects are precarious; and ascribes

his exertions to his wish "to do something, if possible, for these

approaching contingencies," which, he says, "the natural gloom" of his

mind has made "not very distant." He continues:--

"You was so kind as hint your friendly intention towards a church

settlement. That, I begin to think, I am unfit to encounter with again;

for the ten thousand hardships and disagreeable things which I met with

in my short but dear-bought experience of that kind of life, brought me

a great way on in my journey down hill; so that if any one of them

should again occur in another trial, I would certainly soon reach the

foot of the precipice. This event is matter of no great thought to

myself, but as it may concern one not undeservedly dear to me."

These letters are written with great precision, in a small, neat,

regular hand; and, though duly signed, "Thos. Blacklock," it is clear

that they cannot be the penmanship of their sightless author.

Appended to the second, and in a bolder and more masculine looking hand,

is the following:--

"Mrs. Blacklock begs leave to offer her compliments to Mr. Hume,

herself; and to supplicate some easy thing, if it can be procured,

(without giving Mr. Hume much trouble,) for her friend, whom she has

been a good deal apprehensive for this spring, by reason of his close

study. Our college has acquired a new professor for natural history. Do

you think one for poetry could be added, with a moderate salary to

it?"--MSS. R.S.E.

[401:1] The dates of the births of John Home's children, as entered in

the Kirk-session Record of Chirnside, are:--Joseph, 24th June, 1752;

John, 21st April, 1754; Helen, 22d August, 1755; David, 27th February,

1757; John, 29th April, 1758; Catherine, 9th November, 1760; Agnes, 7th

October, 1763; Agatha, 31st December, 1764. His wife was Agnes Carre,

daughter of Robert Carre of Cavers, in Roxburghshire.

[402:1] "Hume carried the torch into all the recesses of actual

practice. He not only made himself familiar with all the scattered

matter that had been published, though much of it had been hid in places

not commonly explored; but he was the very first who went systematically

to the records, and filtered these fountain heads."--_Ed. Rev._, January

1846, p. 197.

[404:1] MS. R.S.E.

[405:1] A comparison of the two brothers, Joseph and David, is thus made

by their father in a letter to his brother of 21st November, 1768. He

begins with David: "He still shows the same talents and temper, and an

attention and keenness for what he is employed about, and might go very

far in any profession if he was properly directed, and quite in a

different manner from any of the rest, particularly from Josey, whose

trifling superficial talents makes him never apply to any thing

thoroughly, nor do I ever expect he will. He this winter is at Mr.

Ferguson and Blair's classes, and the Italian, which completes his

university education. I am totally at a loss what to do with him after.

Law will never do with him. The army he inclines not to, though that, as

he has address and behaviour, is best calculated for him."--MS. R.S.E.

[406:1] _Scots Magazine_, 1807, p. 247.

[406:2] Sir Gilbert had succeeded to the baronetcy on the death of his

father, in 1766.

[407:1] Minto MSS.

[408:1] This is probably in allusion to Wilkes having obtained his

verdict of £1000 damages against the Secretary of State for the seizure

of his papers.

[408:2] Minto MSS.

[409:1] A Scottish artist, whose productions are known to collectors,

but who has not been handed down to posterity by the critics and

biographers.

[409:2] MS. R.S.E.

[409:3] Milman's edition of Gibbon's Life, p. 216.

[410:1] Deyverdun had (in a letter, MS. R.S.E.) acknowledged himself to

be the author of an attack on Rousseau, which the latter attributed to

Hume.

[411:1] MS. R.S.E.

[412:1] Life of Gibbon.

[413:1] Stewart's Life of Robertson.

[414:1] The "Philosophical Essays" were not written by Sir David

Dalrymple, as here hinted, but as Sir Gilbert explains, by James

Balfour, who has already been mentioned, (see vol. i. p. 160, 345.) The

Essays were mainly directed against Kaimes' "Essays on Morality and

Natural Religion."

[415:1] Minto MSS.

[416:1] MS. R.S.E. I can find no light on the meaning of the words "love

affair."

[417:1] Mr. Home was a very cautious farmer, and carried his dislike of

novelties and innovations to the unprecedented extent of declining the

higher rents he might have obtained from enterprising tenants.

[418:1] Minto MSS.

[419:1] MS. R.S.E.

[419:2] Perhaps a false transcript for Hagley, the seat of Lord

Lyttelton.

[420:1] _Scots Mag._, 1807, p. 248.

[420:2] In Mackenzie's Account of Home.

[421:1] Blair, writing on 11th March, says,--

"I long exceedingly to hear of the success of 'The Fatal Discovery,' and

am much pleased with what I have already heard. I read it a twelvemonth

ago, and thought highly of it. I will not pronounce it quite equal to

'Douglas,' but inferior only to it. Mr. Garrick told me, when last in

London, that he approved highly of it, and sent a message to the author

by me, advising him to take measures for bringing it on. I am infinitely

diverted with the trick which our friend has played to John concerning

it. How foolish will he look when he finds how he has been imposed on. I

beseech you write me how it goes on with the public."

[421:2] Dr. Robertson, of whom Blair says in the letter above cited:

"What an excellent performance has Robertson given us. What a treasure

of curious and instructive historical information! I think it much

superior to his former work. He is a little deaf at present, which I

have told him is a thorn in the flesh wisely sent him, that he may not

be too much lifted up with hearing the voice of applause. Your History

of England, and his as an introduction to the History of Europe, form a

perfect historical library. I congratulate myself on living in an age,

when our own country and our friends have done such honour to

literature. For myself I continue piddling still about my Lectures."

[422:1] Not very. The lines he intended to cite are:

Cum positis novus exuviis, nitidusque juventâ

Volvitur, aut catulos tectis aut ova relinquens

Arduus ad solem, et linguis micat ore trisulcis.

[423:1] It is possible that the words "that fellow," apply to Wilkes,

but the context makes it more likely that they are intended for Chatham.

[423:2] The decision was given on 27th February, 1769.

[423:3] Apparently Robert Blair, afterwards Lord President of the Court

of Session. Dr. Blair, in his letter of introduction, says:--

"He is one of the most accomplished and most promising young men who,

for some time, have appeared at the bar; and will certainly go very high

in his profession. His reputation, in that line, is already far

advanced; and he has, besides this, many great virtues, both as a man

and a scholar. As he is my near relation, he has been, all along, my

pupil; and I have great credit in him."

[424:1] The line of houses, near the castle of Edinburgh, called Ramsay

Gardens. His friend, Mrs. Cockburn, strongly dissuaded him from living

in this part of the town.

[424:2] MS. R.S.E.

[426:1] MS. R.S.E.

[428:1] _New Monthly Magazine_, original series, No. 72.

[429:1] MS. R.S.E.

[429:2] The Firth of Forth.

[430:1] _Literary Gazette_, 1822, p. 691. Collated with original MS.

R.S.E.

[432:1] Minto MSS.

[432:2] Minto MSS.

[433:1] MS. R.S.E.

[435:1] Minto MSS.

[436:1] When the house was built, and inhabited by Hume, but while yet

the street, of which it was the commencement, had no name, a witty young

lady, daughter of Baron Ord, chalked on the wall, the words "ST. DAVID

STREET." The allusion was very obvious. Hume's "lass," judging that it

was not meant in honour or reverence, ran into the house much excited,

to tell her master how he was made game of. "Never mind, lassie," he

said; "many a better man has been made a saint of before."

[436:2] MS. R.S.E.

CHAPTER XVII.

1771-1776. Æt. 60-65.

Hume's social character--His conversation--His disposition--

Traditional anecdotes regarding him--Correspondence--Letter

about the Pretender--Gilbert Stuart's quarrel with Dr. Henry--

Commercial State of Scotland--Letter to his nephew on

Republicanism--Smith's "Wealth of Nations"--Hume's illness--

His Will--Smith appointed Literary Executor--Strahan

substituted--His journey to England with Home--Prospects of

Death--Communications with his Friends and Relations--His

Death--General view of his influence on Thought and Action.

It is to the period from the year 1770 to his death, when he lived among

his early friends in Edinburgh, that we ought to refer such traditional

accounts of Hume's private life and social habits, as are not expressly

connected with any known event in his history. He was, it is true, a

distinguished man when he left his native city, in 1763. He had then,

indeed, performed all the services which entitled him to immortality.

But his foreign celebrity, and his official honours, had since added

many ostensible glories to his name, and introduced him to a wider

sphere of public notice than the substantial fruits of his genius and

industry would have of themselves secured. When we remember that this

was the most celebrated period of his life, and was the only one of

which persons who are still, or who have lately been alive, could have

any recollection, we naturally refer to it those traditional notices and

incidents which have no distinct place.

The impression of Hume's character, acquired by one who has sought it in

the tenor of his works, and the history of his literary career, is quite

different from that which we derive from those who knew him, and were

connected with the social circle in which he lived. The former is

solitary, self-relying, and unimpressible even to sternness; the latter

is good, easy, simple, social, and amenable to the sway of gentle

impulses. These two representations are not without a harmony of

principle. In all serious matters, in his projects of literary ambition,

in the philosophy he taught mankind, in all that was to connect him with

posterity and the intellectual destiny of the human race, he was

resolute and uncompromising. But the exhibition of his strength was

reserved for the arena of his triumphs; and in domestic and social

intercourse he put aside his helmet, with its nodding plumes; feeling,

that the intellectual exhibitions suited for _that_ sphere, should

spring from whatever Nature had bestowed on him of sweet, and peaceful,

and kind,--whatever was fitted to drive rancour or angry emulation from

the bosom, and to render life delightful. Hence, to appear in the social

circle as an intellectual gladiator, does not appear to have been his

wish; he was content if he gave himself and others pleasure.

This view of his character is confirmed by Mackenzie, who, when a young

man, enjoyed the high distinction of mingling in that group, of which he

was the principal figure.

But the most illustrious of that circle was David Hume, who

had a sincere affection for his poetical namesake,--an

affection which was never abated during the life of that

celebrated man. The unfortunate nature of his opinions with

regard to the theoretical principles of moral and religious

truth, never influenced his regard for men who held very

opposite sentiments on those subjects; subjects which he

never, like some vain and shallow sceptics, introduced into

social discourse: On the contrary, when at any time the

conversation tended that way, he was desirous rather of

avoiding any serious discussion on matters which he wished to

confine to the graver and less dangerous consideration of

cool philosophy. He had, it might be said, in the language

which the Grecian historian applies to an illustrious Roman,

two minds; one which indulged in the metaphysical scepticism

which his genius could invent, but which it could not always

disentangle; another, simple, natural, and playful, which made

his conversation delightful to his friends, and even

frequently conciliated men whose principles of belief his

philosophical doubts, if they had not power to shake, had

grieved and offended. During the latter period of his life, I

was frequently in his company amidst persons of genuine piety,

and I never heard him venture a remark at which such men, or

ladies, still more susceptible than men, could take

offence.[439:1]

The late Lord Chief Commissioner Adam was another of the young men who

were so fortunate as to be admitted to this circle. In a curious little

collection of notices of eminent persons, called "The Gift of a

Grandfather," privately printed at his own press at Blair-Adam, he says

of Hume:

He was an intimate friend and acquaintance: and in all the

intercourse of life, and in all he said, and wrote, and did,

when not employed in his unnecessary metaphysical scepticism

(well named, by a friend of mine, intellectual rope-dancing,)

was innocent, playful, and moral, and most natural in his

conversation: equally pleasing and instructive to the young

and old of both sexes. . . . . . . . . .

His simple unaffected nature, and kindly disposition, exalted

him as much as the singular powers of his mind, and his

talents for expressing in writing what he contemplated--so

well described by Gibbon, as careless inimitable beauties of

style; which, when he read, he laid down the book in despair

that he should ever be able to imitate them.

I have before shown that he never introduced, in conversation,

his abstruse or sceptical speculations; that all his

sentiments were moral and natural and pleasing, and even

playful in the extreme. This is evinced by his letters, which

are perfect in their kind. He could bring himself down,

without effort, to the most familiar playfulness with young

persons, and particularly delighted in the conversation of

youthful females.

Mr. Hume was one of our constant visiters, making, as was the

custom of those days, tea-time the hour of calling. In the

summer he would often stroll to my father's beautiful villa of

North Merchiston. On one occasion--I was then a boy of

thirteen--he, missing my mother, made his tea-drinking good

with two or three young ladies of eighteen or nineteen, (his

acquaintances,) who were my mother's guests. I recollect

perfectly how agreeably he talked to them; and my recollection

has been rendered permanent by an occurrence which caused some

mirth and no mischief.

When the philosopher was amusing himself in conversation with

the young ladies, the chair began to give way under him, and

gradually brought him to the floor.

The damsels were both alarmed and amused, when Mr. Hume,

recovering himself, and getting upon his legs, said in his

broad Scotch tone, but in English words, (for he never used

Scotch,) "Young ladies, you must tell Mr. Adam to keep

stronger chairs for heavy philosophers."

This simple story is a good specimen of the man. He was above

all affectation. I was a companion of his eldest nephew, and

saw much of him when I was very young. As I grew up he used to

invite me to dinner, and I took great delight in his

conversation. I continued in and about Edinburgh long enough

to be able to relish it, and perhaps to join in it. On one

particular occasion I met him at tea at Professor Ferguson's;

it was at the period of my attending Dr. Blair's class on

rhetoric and belles lettres: their conversation became very

interesting to me, as it bore upon subjects which had an

affinity to what I was in the habit of hearing prelected upon.

They discussed particularly the Henriade of Voltaire; they

were not displeased with any want of brilliancy in the

versification, but they condemned the choice of the subject.

Mr. Hume said, "He should never choose for an epic poem

history, the truth of which is well known; for no fiction can

come up to the interest of the actual story and incidents of

the singular life of Henry IV.;" and Professor Ferguson added,

"What epic poet could improve upon the chivalrous life of

Chevalier Bayard, or on the event of his extraordinary

romantic death?"

"I always lived," says James Boswell, in a passage where he has to

record some of his great patron's expressions of contempt and dislike,

"on good terms with Mr. Hume, though I have frankly told him I was not

clear that it was right of me to keep company with him; 'but,' said I,

'how much better are you than your books!' He was cheerful, obliging,

and instructive. He was charitable to the poor;[441:1] and many an

agreeable hour have I passed with him."

The testimony which Adam Smith bore to his character and disposition, in

the letter which accompanies his autobiography, though so well known,

must not here be omitted.

His temper seemed to be more happily balanced, if I may be

allowed such an expression, than that perhaps of any other man

I have ever known. Even in the lowest state of his fortune,

his great and necessary frugality never hindered him from

exercising, upon proper occasions, acts both of charity and

generosity. It was a frugality founded, not upon avarice, but

upon the love of independency. The extreme gentleness of his

nature never weakened either the firmness of his mind, or the

steadiness of his resolutions. His constant pleasantry was the

genuine effusion of good nature and good humour; tempered with

delicacy and modesty, and without even the slightest tincture

of malignity, so frequently the disagreeable source of what is

called wit in other men. It never was the meaning of his

raillery to mortify; and, therefore, far from offending, it

seldom failed to please and delight, even those who were the

objects of it. To his friends, who were frequently the objects

of it, there was not, perhaps, any one of all his great and

amiable qualities which contributed more to endear his

conversation. And that gaiety of temper, so agreeable in

society, but which is so often accompanied with frivolous and

superficial qualities, was, in him, certainly attended with

the most severe application, the most extensive learning, the

greatest depth of thought, and a capacity in every respect the

most comprehensive. Upon the whole, I have always considered

him, both in his lifetime, and since his death, as approaching

as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man,

as, perhaps, the nature of human frailty will permit.

Of any description of his character, his own account of it must form a

material feature. The mere circumstance that a man should have thus

written about himself, is a noticeable element in his mental history. He

says, in his "own life:"

To conclude, historically, with my own character. I am, or

rather was, (for that is the style I must now use in speaking

of myself, which emboldens me the more to speak my

sentiments,)--I was, I say, a man of mild disposition, of

command of temper, of an open, social, and cheerful humour,

capable of attachment, but little susceptible of enmity, and

of great moderation in all my passions. Even my love of

literary fame, my ruling passion, never soured my temper,

notwithstanding my frequent disappointments. My company was

not unacceptable to the young and careless, as well as to the

studious and literary; and as I took a particular pleasure in

the company of modest women, I had no reason to be displeased

with the reception I met with from them. In a word, though

most men, any wise eminent, have found reason to complain of

calumny, I never was touched, or even attacked by her baleful

tooth: and though I wantonly exposed myself to the rage of

both civil and religious factions, they seemed to be disarmed,

in my behalf, of their wonted fury. My friends never had

occasion to vindicate any one circumstance of my character and

conduct: not but that the zealots, we may well suppose, would

have been glad to invent and propagate any story to my

disadvantage, but they could never find any which they thought

would wear the face of probability. I cannot say there is no

vanity in making this funeral oration of myself, but I hope

it is not a misplaced one; and this is a matter of fact which

is easily cleared and ascertained.

We have here a generous testimony to the tolerant spirit of his age: And

yet his history and correspondence show, that he did not always feel

himself safe from the influence of political or polemical resentment. He

seemed, however, to take a pride in contrasting his own personal

reception, by the world, with that of his writings; the one being all

courtesy, the other all prejudice and dislike. A late eminent judge

remembered meeting him at dinner with Black, Smith, and others, a few

months before his death. Smith was speaking of the ingratitude,

perversity, and intolerance of human nature. Hume said he differed with

him. There was he, who had written on history, on politics, and on

morals--some said on divinity; yet, in discussing these exciting topics,

he had not made a single enemy; unless, indeed, all the Whigs, and all

the Tories, and all the Christians! As, in his playful conversation

among his intimate friends, he was inclined to indulge in practical

humour, he made the general unpopularity of his opinions a common theme

of amusement; picturesquely exaggerating the more offensive features,

and exhibiting them as bugbears to frighten the well-meaning. Asking his

friend, Clephane, to look for lodgings for him in London, he represents

the person who is to inhabit them as "a sober, discreet, virtuous,

frugal, regular, quiet, good-natured man--of a bad character." This "bad

character," he seems to have occasionally used as a method of gently

alarming innocent females. A lady, of strictly evangelical principles,

walking home from church, through a crowded part of Edinburgh, was

rather surprised by the zealous attention with which he proffered his

arm. After they had passed through the crowd, he gave his reason for

being so obsequious--it was, that she might be congratulated, by her

friends, on having been seen walking on Sunday with "Hume the Deist."

Mackenzie relates the following incident, which shows that he was not,

however, always proof against the effect of jocular attacks on his

principles by others.

In the same _bonhommie_, Mr. Hume bore with perfect good

nature the pleasantries which humorous deductions from his

theoretical scepticisms sometimes produced. Once, I have been

told, he was in a small degree ruffled by a witticism of Mr.

John Home's, who, though always pleasant, and often lively,

seldom produced what might be termed or repeated as wit. The

clerk of an eminent banker in Edinburgh, a young man of

irreproachable conduct, and much in the confidence of his

master, eloped with a considerable sum with which he had been

intrusted. The circumstance was mentioned at a dinner where

the two Humes, the historian and the poet, and several of

their usual friendly circle, were present. David Hume spoke of

it as a kind of moral problem, and wondered what could induce

a man of such character and habits as this clerk was said to

possess, thus to incur, for an inconsiderable sum, the guilt

and the infamy of such a transaction. "I can easily account

for it," said his friend, John Home, "from the nature of his

studies, and the kind of books which he was in the habit of

reading." "What were they?" said the philosopher. "Boston's

Fourfold State," rejoined the poet, "and Hume's Essays." David

was more hurt by the joke than was usual with him; probably

from the singular conjunction of the two works, which formed,

according to his friend's account, the library of the

unfortunate young man.[444:1]

As appropriate to his popularity among women and young people, the

following anecdotes from the pen of one who has gained no little

celebrity by her genius, cannot fail to give interest. They are

contained in a letter by Lady Anne Lindsay, authoress of the song _Auld

Robin Gray_, when she was a young lady living in her grandmother's house

in Edinburgh, to her sister Margaret:--

Dinners go on as usual, which, being monopolized by the

divines, wits, and writers of the present day, are not

unjustly called the Dinners of the Eaterati, by Lord Kellie,

who laughs at his own pun till his face is purple.

Our friend, David Hume, along with his friend, Principal

Robertson, continue to maintain their ground at these

convivial meetings. To see the lion and the lamb lying down

together, the deist and the doctor, is extraordinary; it makes

one hope that some day Hume will say to him, "Thou almost

persuadest me to be a Christian." He is a constant morning

visiter of ours. My mother jested him lately on a circumstance

which had a good deal of character in it.

When we were very young girls, too young to remember the

scene, there happened to be a good many clever people at

Balcarres at Christmas; and as a gambol of the season, they

agreed to write each his own character, to give them to Hume,

and make him show them to my father, as extracts he had taken

from the pope's library at Rome.[445:1]

He did. My father said, "I don't know who the rest of your

fine fellows and charming princesses are, Hume; but if you had

not told me where you got _this_ character, I should have said

it was that of my wife."

"I was pleased," said my mother, "with my lord's answer, it

showed that at least I had been an honest woman."

"Hume's character of himself," said she, "was well drawn and

full of candour; he spoke of himself as he ought;" but added,

what surprised us all, that, "plain as his manners were, and

apparently careless of attention, vanity was his predominant

weakness. That vanity led him to publish his Essays, which he

grieved over; not that he had changed his opinions, but that

he thought he had injured society by disseminating them."

"Do you remember the sequel of that affair?" said Hume.

"Yes, I do," replied my mother, laughing: "you told me that,

although I thought your character a sincere one, it was not

so; there was a particular feature omitted that we were still

ignorant of, and that you would add it; like a fool I gave you

the manuscript, and you thrust it into the fire, adding, 'Oh,

what an idiot I had nearly proved myself to be, to leave such

a document in the hands of a parcel of women!'"

"Villain!" said my mother, laughing, and shaking her head at

him.

"Do you remember all this, my little woman?" said Hume to me.

"I was too young," said I, "to think of it at the time."

"How's this? have not you and I grown up together?"

I looked surprised.

"Yes," added he, "you have grown tall, and I have grown

broad."[446:1]

It may give us some farther idea of the refined simplicity that made his

conversation agreeable to intellectual and right thinking women, to

observe the manner in which he was addressed in the following very

lively letter from Lady Elliot Murray, the wife of his friend, Sir

Gilbert.

_Minto, 12th October, 1772._

I am resolved to take the reins of government into my own

hands. I don't know what has made me such a humble subservient

animal hitherto. I will dictate from this time forth. I will

give the law, and insist on an implicit obedience to my

superior wisdom; for am I not wiser than the wisest? did I not

foretell what has come to pass, that Mons. De Guigne would not

reach Edinburgh before the middle of this week? and did I not

prove my judgment surpassing that best of historians, who is a

mere pedler in understanding to me? Had he taken my advice, he

need not have jumbled himself seventy long miles over

mountains and plains in one day, and left a family who were

happy in his company, and exchanged the cheering blaze of a

good coal fire, for the dreary glimpses of a clouded moon.

But, however, he had the pleasure of gratifying a sense which

few people are much troubled with, a delicacy and ardour in

politeness; and as that is pretty near akin to benevolence, I

believe the indulgence of it may be a full recompense for the

trouble. But that last principle will lead you back the road

you went; for you left three ladies mourning for your

departure, and the good man of the house has been in a

vexation ever since, and can only be contented by a renewal of

your kind intentions towards us, of passing some quiet days

under our roof. Sir Gilbert came home from Jedburgh, and had

seen your brother there, who told him he would find you here

when he came back.

Enter Sir Gilbert. Where is Mr. Hume?--Answer: He is gone.

When did he come?--About one o'clock. And when did he go

away?--About five. What! have you quarrelled?--Yes. He and I

had some little difference about his _byeuks_, and I tried to

persuade him to burn them all, and write the other way; for,

as I said, I was sure he would be a shining light, and equal

the author of the "Pilgrim's Progress," or Mr. Ebenezer

Erskine, if he would only take the right side; and he flew in

a passion and went away in a huff! How could you think he

would be persuaded by you? Pooh! though I am but a simple

woman, before it be long he may be convinced I can see farther

into a millstone than he can do; and if he had taken my

advice, he might have rested his bones here this night in

quiet, in place of rumbling along in the dark in a post

chaise; and so in other matters too, I might perhaps do him a

service if he would be ruled by me. My dear, how can you be so

wild? And, my dear, where is the harm in telling one's mind,

when you think you can do good by it, to a good worthy

creature that is only a little mistaken or so? Good by it,

what a chimera! but come, there is some other reason than this

for his going away? None that I know; except a fine flim-flam

letter that he received from the French Ambassador, saying, he

expected to have the exquisite joy of beholding him at

Edinburgh to-morrow. Ah, now I understand it. But when does he

come back? Why he either comes back with Mons. De Guigne, or

after he has done the last duties to him at Edinburgh. So you

see, if you do not come, you will have brought me in for the

lesser excommunication; for you will have been the cause of my

deceiving my husband, and telling him a lie: although, for

that matter, neither you nor I _lukelly_ have any thing to

fear now-a-days, for either the greater or lesser

excommunication: For, as you justly observe, line 12, first

page of your letter, how are things changed! Old prejudices

are done away, but behold new ones arise; and the last errors

I am afraid are worse than the first: but, for my own part, I

would willingly have stood before the kirk-session, to have

shown any respect and regard to Mons{r.} L'Ambassador, who is

a man we all esteem in this house, and from whom we have

always received every possible civility, of which we retain a

grateful sense. But we perceive he is travelling in his public

capacity, and unless Sir Gilbert had had it in his power to go

to town to wait of him, and give him welcome from us to our

house, should it suit his conveniency to rest here upon his

road to England, we think any other invitation would appear

improper and abrupt; and as it so happens he cannot possibly

accomplish this at present, for we are to have company with us

most part of this week; and after that we go to our visits,

which will take us most of next week; and then we shall be

chez nous till our journey southwards, when we will require

from you to restore us your good society, else we shall verily

believe your flying visit was all a hum, and we won't be

_Humed_ so!

Bless me, I thought I was writing to my poor good Harry. How

does he do, sanctified soul? I have really hopes of you, now

that he and you are come hand to fist at a conversation; as he

tells me you are very often with him, and he really thinks you

are a saint in your nature; and I say that is a great pity,

for tho' I cannot deny the fact, I deplore it for the

consequences of it; but give my best wishes to him, and tell

him I long to hear of better prospects for him. I am really

confounded, when I think what a parcel of nonsense I have

wrote you: But learn to prefer the truth and sincerity of a

Scots wife, to the pernicious flattery of Les Dames

Françaises, of which you have had enough in your days; and so

it is fit you should be made to hear on the other side of the

head. And so wishing you all health and happiness, and

clearness of understanding, I remain, sir, your well wisher,

friend, and obedient servant,

AG. ELLIOT MURRAY.

P.S. I don't think the quiet Euthanasia of England will happen

in the year 1773, the mayoralty of J. W. Esq.

Hume had been for many years very corpulent. In a letter to Sir Harry

Erskine, in 1756, he complains of this tendency to obesity. He

occasionally alludes to his partiality for plain food, and to his being,

to use his own sufficiently distinct expression, "a glutton, not an

epicure."[449:1] We have found him telling Sir Gilbert Elliot, that for

beef and cabbage, which he calls "a charming dish," and old mutton, no

one could excel him; and that the Duc de Nivernois would become

apprentice to his "lass," to learn how she made sheeps'-head broth. The

zest with which he returned to the simple food of his native country,

after the diplomatic feasts of Paris, seems to have been characteristic

of all his habits. Burke is said to have affirmed, that, "in manners he

was an easy unaffected man, previous to going to Paris as secretary to

Lord Hertford; but that the adulation and caresses of the female wits of

that capital had been too powerful even for a philosopher, and the

result was, he returned a literary coxcomb." But the saying is not in

harmony with the characteristics noted by others; and it is not quite

clear that it was ever uttered by Burke.[450:1] All who speak as having

been familiarly acquainted with him, concur in describing his manners as

kind, simple, and polite. He had, as no one who has read his

correspondence can fail to see, a good heart, ever ready to do

benevolent acts where occasions for their performance came under his

notice; and his exterior appearance and manner corresponded with this

part of his character. One occasionally meets with venerable persons who

remember having been dandled on Hume's knee, and the number of these

reminiscences indicates that he was fond of children.[450:2]

The broad Scottish pronunciation, in which, by all accounts, he

indulged, was a rather singular habit in one who desired to throw off

all marks of provincialism. Yet we are told that in this rude Doric garb

he clothed a very pure English colloquial style. We must take this

statement with allowances: He never probably in his most finished

writings completely divested his style of Scotticisms; and the English

he spoke must have been pure only in comparison with the language of his

fellow countrymen. But it may be remarked, that provincial broadness of

pronunciation in Scotland is far from being incompatible with a very

pure and unprovincial style of language. It has often been observed,

that in those parts of the country where the speech of the uneducated is

most peculiar, English, when spoken at all, is found in greatest

purity. Thus, an inhabitant of the border districts makes his southern

tones, though hardly distinguishable from those of his English

neighbours, the vehicle of intense Scotticisms; while beyond the

Grampians, the deep broad Teutonic pronunciation sometimes gives voice

to uncontaminated English, as established by literary and colloquial

rules.

Hume had very clearly two kinds of conversation, one for strangers and

the world at large, the other for his chosen friends with whom he was at

ease, and who could understand the good humour of that jocularity which

a contemporary pronounced to have something in it perfectly infantine.

His friend John Home was somewhat renowned for a warlike and romantic

pomp in his ideas, like those which pervade his own tragic personations.

In Hume's conversation we may believe that there was nothing either

heroic or enthusiastic. A good humoured sly application of the fugitive

subjects of discussion, to the peculiarities of the guests; an

occasional vigorous and apt remark; a fantastic wit sometimes let loose

to wander where it pleased, and choose whatever it thought fit for its

object,--seem to have constituted the charm of his society. Yet the tone

of his thoughts sometimes rose to enthusiasm. Thus the son of his valued

friend Ferguson, remembers his father saying, that, one clear and

beautiful night, when they were walking home together, Hume suddenly

stopped, looked up to the starry sky, and said, more after the manner of

"Hervey's Meditations" than the "Treatise of Human Nature," "Oh, Adam,

can any one contemplate the wonders of that firmament, and not believe

that there is a God!"

In a late collection of casual reminiscences, there is the following

notice of his social habits.

"Major M----, with whom I dined yesterday, said that he had frequently

met David Hume at their military mess in Scotland, and in other parties;

that he was very polite and pleasant, though thoughtful in company,

generally reclining his head upon his hand, as if in study; from which

he would suddenly recover, however, with some indifferent

question;[452:1] extremely inquisitive, but quite easy to himself and

all around him. One is glad to catch personal notices, however slight,

of memorable men and of speculative philosophers. I know no one so

memorable as Hume. He seems to have so far outstripped the spirit of the

times in his original and profound researches, that the world is in no

condition at present to do justice to his merits."[452:2]

Those who know him solely by his philosophical reputation, will perhaps

believe him to have been

Parcus deorum cultor et infrequens.

But this does not seem to have been the case, at least in his outward

conduct. We find him, in writing home from France, casually mentioning

his not having seen Elliot's sons "in church;" and on another occasion

making a like allusion, indicative of his having been a pretty regular

attendant at the ambassador's chapel. He is said to have been fond of

Dr. Robertson's preaching, and not averse to that of his colleague and

opponent, John Erskine. A lady, distinguished in literature, remembers

that in a conversation with a respectable tradesman's wife, who had been

a servant to Hume, she said that her master one day asked her very

seriously, why she was never seen in church, where he had provided seats

for all his household. At that time there were very few of the humbler

classes in Edinburgh, who did not belong to the Church of Scotland. The

woman's defence was, that she belonged to a dissenting congregation; and

it was admitted to be quite satisfactory.

Social in his habits, and living the life of a wealthy bachelor, it was

natural that Hume should connect himself with the societies, whether of

a literary or convivial character, which brought the good company of

Edinburgh together. He appears to have been a pretty active member of

the Philosophical Society. In a letter, of which part has already been

printed, and which would probably in strict chronological order belong

to an earlier period, we find him with mild dignity enforcing the

tolerance and philosophical equanimity, that ought to reign wherever men

of different sentiments meet each other in intellectual discussion.

"_Tuesday Forenoon._

"SIR,--I am so great a lover of peace, that I am resolved to drop this

matter altogether, and not to insert a syllable in the Preface, which

can have a reference to your Essay. The truth is, I could take no

revenge but such a one as would have been a great deal too cruel, and

much exceeding the offence: for, though most authors think, that a

contemptuous manner of treating their writings is but slightly revenged

by hurting the personal character and the honour of their antagonists, I

am very far from that opinion. Besides, I am as certain as I can be of

any thing, (and I am not such a sceptic as you may perhaps imagine,)

that your inserting such remarkable alterations in the printed copy,

proceeded entirely from precipitancy and passion, not from any formed

intention of deceiving the Society. I would not take advantage of such

an incident to throw a slur on a man of merit, whom I esteem, though I

might have reason to complain of him.

"When I am abused by such a fellow as Warburton, whom I neither know nor

care for, I can laugh at him. But if Dr. Stewart approaches any way

towards the same style of writing, I own it vexes me; because I

conclude, that some unguarded circumstance of my conduct, though

contrary to my intention, had given occasion to it.

"As to your situation with regard to Lord Kames, I am not so good a

judge. I only think that you had so much the better of the argument,

that you ought, upon that account, to have been more reserved in your

expressions. All raillery ought to be avoided in philosophical argument,

both because it is unphilosophical, and because it cannot but be

offensive, let it be ever so gentle. What, then, must we think with

regard to so many insinuations of irreligion, to which Lord Kames's

paper gave not the least occasion? This spirit of the inquisitor is, in

you, the effect of passion, and what a _cool_ moment would easily

correct. But where it predominates in the character, what ravages has it

committed on reason, virtue, truth, liberty, and every thing that is

valuable among mankind! I shall now speak a word as to the justness of

your censure with regard to myself after these remarks on the manner of

it. I have no scruple of confessing my mistakes. You see I have owned

that I think Lord Kames is mistaken in his argument; and I would sooner

give up my _own_ cause than my _friend's_, if I thought that imputation

of any consequence to a man's character. . . . .[455:1]

"As I am resolved to drop this matter entirely from the Preface, so I

hope to persuade Lord Kames to be entirely silent with regard to it in

our meeting. But in case I should not prevail, or if any body else start

the subject, I think it better that some of your friends should be

there, and be prepared to mollify the matter. If I durst pretend to

advise, I should think it better you yourself were absent, unless you

bring a greater spirit of composition than you express in your letter. I

am persuaded that whatever a person of Mr. Monro's authority proposes

will be agreed to: though I must beg leave to differ from his judgment

in proposing to alter two pages. That chiefly removes the offence given

to me; but what regards Lord Kames is so interwoven with the whole

discourse, that there is not now any possibility of altering it. I am,

sir, your most obedient humble servant," &c.

"P. S.--I hope you are very zealous in promoting the sale of Blacklock's

Poems. I will never be reconciled to you unless you dispose of at least

a score of them; and make your friends Sir John Maxwell and Lord Buchan

pay a guinea a piece for their copy."[455:2]

The Poker Club, occasionally mentioned in these pages, seems to have

had no other direct and specific object but the consumption of claret.

The duty laid on that national wine, by "the English statesman," so

pathetically commemorated by John Home, was a heavy blow and great

discouragement to the club; but it rallied, and returned to its old

esteemed beverage; and, indeed, it is a somewhat curious circumstance,

that the national taste, created by the early intercourse with France

and the consequent cheapness of French wines, still lingers in Scotland,

where claret is much more generally consumed than in England. The club

met in Fortune's tavern every Friday. It was the practice, at each

meeting, to name two to be, what were called, "attendant members;" an

arrangement, probably, designed to form a nucleus round which those

whose attendance was uncertain, but who might drop in occasionally in

the course of the evening, could form themselves; and to prevent any

general desertion of the club, or, what might be, perhaps, more

calamitous, the accident of any individual finding himself, for the

night, its sole and solitary representative. We find Hume duly taking

his turn in these attendances, and keeping the minutes according to

rotation. On the 20th January, 1775, there is this emphatic entry, in

his handwriting, "As Mr. Nairne was one of the attendant members, and

neglected his duty, the club sent him the bill." The last meeting of

the club, attended by Hume, appears to have been that of 8th December,

1775.[457:1]

It does not appear to be necessary that traditional anecdotes, such as

the few we possess of Hume, must either be authenticated, or excluded

from such a work as the present. It seems to entitle them to a place,

that they were current among those who knew his character and habits.

They thus afford all that is expected from such sources--passing fancy

sketches, recognised as likenesses. Like several others that have

appeared in these pages, as mere traditions, the following anecdote,

which is eminently natural and curious, has no farther authentication

than the general belief, in Edinburgh, that it "was like the man."

About the commencement of his last illness, a female member of the

respectable Berean congregation, in Leith, presented herself at his

door, with the information that she had been intrusted with a message to

him from on High; and, becoming very urgent, succeeded in obtaining

admission. "This is a very important matter, madam," said the

philosopher, "we must take it with deliberation;--perhaps you had better

get a little temporal refreshment before you begin. 'Lassie, bring this

good lady a glass of wine.'" While she was preparing for the attack,

Hume entered, good-humouredly, into conversation with her; and,

discovering that her husband was a chandler, announced that he stood

very much in want, at that time, of some temporal lights, and intrusted

his guest with a very large order. This unexpected stroke of business at

once absorbed all the good woman's thoughts; and, forgetting her

important mission, she immediately trotted home to acquaint her husband

with the good news.

There is an anecdote, which has appeared in numerous collections of such

literary scraps, which represents him as having slipped into the boggy

ground at the base of the castle rock, and called to a woman to help him

out. In his unwieldy and infirm state, during his latter years, the

accident is not improbable. The anecdote proceeds to say, that the

female called on had great doubts of the propriety of helping "Hume, the

Deist," out of that slough of despond into which it had pleased

Providence to cast him. "But, my good woman, does not your religion as a

Christian, teach you to do good, even to your enemies?" "That may be,"

said she, "but ye shallna get out o' that, till ye become a Christian

yersell: and repeat the Lord's Prayer and the Belief," a feat which is

said to have been very rapidly performed, much to the worthy catechist's

astonishment.

Some of his witticisms have a tone of sarcastic severity, which he does

not appear to have been disposed to suppress, even when women were the

victims, if it was called forth by affectation or folly. To a celebrated

"fine woman" of his day, who said she was often pestered to tell her

age, and desired his opinion what answer she should give: he is reported

to have said, "Madam, say you are not yet come to years of discretion."

To the same lady, who, when crossing one of the ferries of the Firth of

Forth, during a fresh breeze, was making a loud outcry about danger, he

remarked, with much coolness, that they would probably soon be food for

fishes; "and who," said the frightened belle, probably a little confused

by the horrors of their position, "who will they begin with?" The answer

she received was, "Why, madam, those of them that are gluttons will

begin with me; those that are epicures with your ladyship."

We now resume Hume's correspondence. The letters of the last five years

of his life, which have been preserved, are comparatively few; a

circumstance which may be accounted for from his living, during that

period, among his correspondents. On 28th January, 1772, he writes to

Smith, that he would be glad to receive a visit from him; but that his

house would be rather dull, from his sister having fever. In

continuation he says:--

"I shall not take an excuse from your own state of health; which I

suppose only a subterfuge invented by indolence and love of solitude.

Indeed, my dear Smith, if you continue to hearken to complaints of this

nature, you will cut yourself out entirely from human society, to the

great loss of both parties.

"P.S.--I have not yet read 'Orlando Inamorato;' but intend soon to do

it. I am now in a course of reading the 'Italian Historians,' and am

confirmed in my former opinion, that that language has not produced one

author who knew how to write elegant correct prose, though it contains

several excellent poets."[459:1]

In the following letters, we find several details about that remarkable

revulsion in the state of trade in Scotland, which, at the present day,

is chiefly known by the quantity of decisions on points of bankruptcy

law, with which it filled the Reports.

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH

"_St. Andrew's Square, 27th June, 1772._

"We are here in a very melancholy situation, continual bankruptcies,

universal loss of credit, and endless suspicions. There are but two

standing houses in this place--Mansfields and the Coutses--for I

comprehend not Cummin, whose dealings were always very narrow. Mansfield

has paid away £40,000 in a few days: but it is apprehended that neither

he nor any of them can hold out till the end of next week, if no

alteration happen. The case is little better in London. It is thought

that Sir George Colebroke must soon stop; and even the Bank of England

is not entirely free from suspicion. Those of Newcastle, Norwich, and

Bristol, are said to be stopped. The Thistle Bank has been reported to

be in the same condition. The Carron Company is reeling, which is one of

the greatest calamities of the whole, as they gave employment to near

ten thousand people. Do these events any wise affect your theory, or

will it occasion the revisal of any chapters?

"Of all the sufferers, I am the most concerned for the Adams,

particularly John. But their undertakings were so vast, that nothing

could support them. They must dismiss three thousand workmen, who,

comprehending the materials, must have expended above £100,000 a-year.

They have great funds; but if these must be disposed of in a hurry, and

to disadvantage, I am afraid the remainder will amount to little or

nothing. People's [compa]ssion I see was exhausted for John, in his last

calamity, and every body asks why he incurred any more hazards. But his

friendship for his brothers is an apology; though I believe he has a

projecting turn of his own. To me the scheme of the Adelphi always

appeared so imprudent, that my wonder is how they could have gone on so

long.

"If Sir George Colebroke stop, it will probably disconcert all the

plans of our friends, as it will diminish their patron's influence;

which is a new misfortune.

"On the whole, I believe that the check given to our exorbitant and ill

grounded credit, will prove of advantage in the long run, as it will

reduce people to more solid, and less sanguine projects, and, at the

same time, introduce frugality among the merchants and manufacturers:

what say you? Here is food for your speculation."[461:1]

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_St. Andrew's Square, 23d Nov. 1772._

"DEAR SMITH,--I should agree to your reasoning, if I could trust your

resolution. Come hither for some weeks about Christmas; dissipate

yourself a little; return to Kirkcaldy; finish your work before autumn:

go to London; print it; return and settle in this town, which suits your

studious independent turn, even better than London. Execute this plan

faithfully, and I forgive you.

"Ferguson has returned, fat and fair, and in good humour,

notwithstanding his disappointment, which I am glad of."[461:2]

In 1772, Macpherson published a quarto volume, called "An Introduction

to the History of Great Britain and Ireland," of which Pinkerton,

indignant at the Celtic spirit it displayed, said, "The empty vanity,

shallow reading, vague assertion, and etymological nonsense, in this

production, are truly risible." In a letter to Colonel Dow,[461:3] we

find Hume criticising this book in a rather less emphatic manner.

"My compliments to Ossian. He has given us a work last winter, which

contains a great deal of genius and good writing; but I cannot assent to

his system. I must still adhere to the common opinion regarding our

origin, or rather your origin; for we are all plainly Danes or Saxons in

the low countries. But these subjects I reserve to a discussion over an

evening fire on your return. I charge you not to think of settling in

London, till you have first seen our New Town, which exceeds any thing

you have seen in any part of the world."[462:1]

With the following letter, many readers may perhaps be familiar, but to

those who have not already seen it, the curious historical incident it

details, will give it much interest.

HUME _to_ SIR JOHN PRINGLE.

_St. Andrew's Square, Edinburgh,

Feb. 10, 1773._