MY DEAR SIR,--That the present Pretender was in London, in the

year 1753, I know with the greatest certainty; because I had

it from Lord Marischal, who said, it consisted with his

certain knowledge. Two or three days after his lordship gave

me this information, he told me, that the evening before, he

had learned several curious particulars from a lady, (who I

imagined to be Lady Primrose,) though my lord refused to name

her. The Pretender came to her house in the evening, without

giving her any preparatory information; and entered the room

when she had a pretty large company with her, and was herself

playing at cards. He was announced by the servant under

another name. She thought the cards would have dropped from

her hands on seeing him. But she had presence enough of mind,

to call him by the name he assumed; to ask him when he came to

England, and how long he intended to stay there. After he and

all the company went away, the servants remarked how

wonderfully like the strange gentleman was to the prince's

picture, which hung on the chimney-piece, in the very room in

which he entered. My lord added, (I think from the authority

of the same lady,) that he used so little precaution, that he

went abroad openly in day-light, in his own dress; only laying

aside his blue riband and star; walked once through St.

James's, and took a turn in the Mall.

About five years ago, I told this story to Lord Holderness,

who was secretary of state in the year 1753; and I added, that

I supposed this piece of intelligence had at that time escaped

his lordship. "By no means," said he, "and who do you think

first told it me? it was the king himself, who subjoined, 'And

what do you think, my lord, I should do with him?'" Lord

Holderness owned that he was puzzled how to reply; for if he

declared his real sentiments, they might savour of

indifference to the royal family. The king perceived his

embarrassment, and extricated him from it, by adding, "My

lord, I shall just do nothing at all; and when he is tired of

England, he will go abroad again." I think this story, for the

honour of the late king, ought to be more generally known.

But what will surprise you more, Lord Marischal, a few days

after the coronation of the present king, told me, that he

believed the young Pretender was at that time in London; or at

least had been so very lately, and had come over to see the

show of the coronation, and had actually seen it. I asked my

lord the reason for this strange fact. "Why," says he, "a

gentleman told me so that saw him there; and that he even

spoke to him, and whispered in his ears these words: 'Your

royal highness is the last of all mortals whom I should expect

to see here.'--'It was curiosity that led me,' said the other;

'but I assure you,' added he, 'that the person who is the

object of all this pomp and magnificence is the man I envy the

least.'" You see this story is so near traced from the

fountain head, as to wear a great face of probability. Query,

What if the Pretender had taken up Dymock's gauntlet? I find

that the Pretender's visit in England, in the year 1753, was

known to all the Jacobites; and some of them have assured me,

that he took the opportunity of formally renouncing the Roman

Catholic religion, under his own name of Charles Stuart, in

the new church in the Strand; and that this is the reason of

the bad treatment he met with at the court of Rome. I own that

I am a sceptic with regard to the last particulars.

Lord Marischal had a very bad opinion of this unfortunate

prince; and thought there was no vice so mean or atrocious of

which he was not capable; of which he gave me several

instances. My lord, though a man of great honour, may be

thought a discontented courtier; but what quite confounded me

in the idea of that prince, was a conversation I had with

Helvétius at Paris, which, I believe, I have told you. In case

I have not, I shall mention a few particulars. That gentleman

told me, that he had no acquaintance with the Pretender; but,

some time after that prince was chased out of France, "a

letter," said he, "was brought me from him, in which he told

me that the necessity of his affairs obliged him to be at

Paris; and, as he knew me, by character, to be a man of the

greatest probity and honour in France, he would trust himself

to me, if I would promise to conceal and protect him. I own,"

added Helvétius to me, "although I knew the danger to be

greater of harbouring him at Paris than at London; and

although I thought the family of Hanover not only the lawful

sovereigns in England, but the only lawful sovereigns in

Europe, as having the full and free consent of the people; yet

was I such a dupe to his flattery, that I invited him to my

house; concealed him there, going and coming, near two years;

had all his correspondence pass through my hands; met with his

partisans upon Pont Neuf; and found, at last, that I had

incurred all this danger and trouble for the most unworthy of

all mortals; insomuch that I have been assured, when he went

down to Nantz, to embark on his expedition to Scotland, he

took fright and refused to go on board; and his attendants,

thinking the matter gone too far, and that they would be

affronted for his cowardice, carried him, in the night time,

into the ship, pieds et mains liés." I asked him, if he meant

literally? "Yes," said he, "literally. They tied him and

carried him by main force." What think you now of this hero

and conqueror?

Both Lord Marischal and Helvétius agree, that with all this

strange character, he was no bigot; but rather had learned,

from the philosophers at Paris, to affect a contempt of all

religion. You must know that both these persons thought they

were ascribing to him an excellent quality. Indeed, both of

them used to laugh at me for my narrow way of thinking in

these particulars.[465:1] However, my dear Sir John, I hope

you will do me the justice to acquit me.

I doubt not but these circumstances will appear curious to

Lord Hardwicke, to whom you will please to present my

respects. I suppose his lordship will think this unaccountable

mixture of temerity and timidity, in the same character, not a

little singular. I am yours very sincerely.[465:2]

If there should be any doubts of the genuineness of this letter, from

its having first appeared, unauthenticated, in a periodical work, they

will be removed by the perusal of the following answer by Sir John

Pringle, printed from the original manuscript.

SIR JOHN PRINGLE _to_ HUME.

_London, 5th November, 1773_.

DEAR SIR,--I was much obliged to you for your letter of the

10th ult., as it furnished me with sufficient means for

maintaining my credit with Lord Hardwicke, a person I have not

the honour to be well known to; and I had the more occasion

for such a testimony as yours, as the other earl, mentioned in

your letter, has thought proper, (I presume since he has once

more become a courtier,) to deny his knowing any thing of the

story, when one of the company, (where I told the anecdote to

Lord Hardwicke,) inquired of him about it.

Lord Hardwicke, not being in town when yours came to hand, I

charged his intimate friend, Mr. Wray, who was going to visit

him, with it. Yesterday, that gentleman returned, and, with

the letter, sent me a line, expressing his lordship's great

satisfaction in the communication; and with many thanks to us

both for it. I understand he is very curious in picking up

such historical facts; and, if so, he certainly never met with

any thing of that kind more suited to his genius. The most

extraordinary circumstance is, that of the _pied et poing

liés_; and yet your authority seems to be unexceptionable.

What could be expected from an adventurer whom they had been

obliged to treat in that humiliating manner? and whose

timidity, they must believe, was every now and then to recur,

to affront those that set him upon the enterprise? I know that

_our_ people were at great pains to decry his courage, after

the battle of Culloden; but that I considered always as done

upon a political, rather than an historical principle. I had

good evidence for believing that, at Derby, he was, of the

council of war, the person who stood longest out against the

motion for returning, and not advancing to London. Again, he

was for standing at the Spey; and, lastly, he did not retire

from Culloden till his whole band was put to flight. It is

true he never advanced nearer than the corps de réserve; but

which corresponded to our second line, in which the Duke of

Cumberland placed himself. I may add, that both of us have

been informed, that he betrayed no unmanly concern, when he

skulked so long with his female heroine; and then, surely, he

was daily in the greatest danger of his life; had he been

taken he would have met with no quarter. But, after all, these

testimonies, in favour of his courage, must yield to such

proofs as you bring to the contrary.[466:1]

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_St. Andrew's Square, 24th Feb., 1773._

"DEAR SMITH,--There are two late publications here which I advise you to

commission. The first is Andrew Stuart's Letters to Lord Mansfield,

which they say have met with vast success in London. Andrew has eased

his own mind, and no bad effects are to follow. Lord Mansfield is

determined, absolutely, to neglect them. The other is Lord Monboddo's

treatise on the Origin and Progress of Language, which is only part of

a larger work. It contains all the absurdity and malignity which I

expected; but is writ with more ingenuity and in a better style than I

looked for."[467:1]

"_St. Andrew's Square, 10th April, 1773._

"To-day news arrived in town, that the Ayr Bank had shut up, and, as

many people think, for ever. I hear that the Duke of Buccleuch is on the

road. The country will be in prodigious distress for money this term.

Sir G. Colebroke's bankruptcy is thought to be the immediate cause of

this event.

"Have you seen Macpherson's Homer? It is hard to tell whether the

attempt or the execution be worse. I hear he is employed by the

booksellers to continue my History. But, in my opinion, of all men of

parts, he has the most anti-historical head in the universe.

"Have you seen Sir John Dalrymple? It is strange what a rage is against

him, on account of the most commendable action in his life. His

collection[467:2] is curious; but introduces no new light into the

civil, whatever it may into the biographical and anecdotical history of

the times.

"Have you seen 'Alonzo?' Very slovenly versification, some pathetic, but

too much resembling 'Douglas.'"[467:3]

We have found Gilbert Stuart deferentially courting Hume's notice of his

earlier literary efforts. A few years of popularity as an author, and

the command of a periodical work, had in the meantime changed the man's

character, by developing all its arrogance, jealousy, conceit, and

vindictiveness. He was one of those who indulge in the comfortable

consciousness, that any comparison between their own genius and that of

any other given person is supremely ludicrous; and as some one said of

La Harpe, it might have proved a good speculation to buy him at what he

was worth, and sell him at his own estimate of his value. Sick of the

praises he heard bestowed on Robertson and the other eminent historians

of his age, he thought it his duty to show the world how the lamp of

such industrious drudges would grow pale before the lustre of true

genius; and thus he favoured the public with some historical efforts, in

which the curious reader of the present day, who takes them from

forgotten shelves, is somewhat surprised to find how effectually

well-turned periods, and a certain audacity of opinion, keep out of view

the meagreness of the author's inquiries.

In 1773, Stuart began to edit the _Edinburgh Magazine and Review_.

Periodical literature was the proper sphere for exhibiting his powers;

which consisted in the ready acquisition of a superficial view of any

subject, and a rapid, yet elegant style; occasionally magniloquent, and

at other times descriptive or sarcastic. No other periodical work of

that day equalled the _Edinburgh Magazine and Review_, in genius and

originality. But the editor made it the vehicle of his tyrannical and

vindictive spirit; and the purse and person of the proprietor--it might

almost be said the peace of society, were endangered by so formidable a

weapon remaining in such hands.[468:1]

At this time, the Rev. Robert Henry was publishing his valuable History

of Britain, volume by volume. Stuart had vowed that he would crush this

work; and the critical columns he concentrated against it, do great

credit to his ability as a tactician. Hume was promised the privilege of

reviewing the book in _the Magazine_, and probably Stuart thought that

to arm him against an interloper in his own province was excellent

policy; but when the article was written, and put in proof, it was found

not adapted to the editor's purpose. We find him thus writing to a

confederate:

David Hume wants to review Henry; but that task is so

precious, that I will undertake it myself. Moses, were he to

ask it as a favour, should not have it: yea, not even the man

after God's own heart. I wish I could transport myself to

London, to review him for the _Monthly_: a fire there and in

the _Critical_, would perfectly annihilate him. Could you do

nothing in the latter? To the former I suppose David Hume has

transcribed the criticism he intended for us. It is precious

and would divert you. I keep a _proof_ of it in my cabinet

for the amusement of friends. This great philosopher begins to

dote.[470:1]

A review of Henry's work _did_ appear in _The Monthly Review_, but from

a very different pen. The _proof_, however, which gave Stuart so much

amusement, has fortunately been preserved. After giving a favourable

analysis of Henry's second volume, it concludes with the following

sentences, in many respects remarkable.

The reader will scarcely find in our language, except in the

works of the celebrated Dr. Robertson, any performance that

unites together so perfectly the great points of entertainment

and instruction. It is happy for the inhabitants of this

metropolis, which has naturally a great influence on the

country, that the same persons who can make such a figure in

profane learning, are intrusted with the guidance of the

people in their spiritual concerns, which are of such

superior, and indeed of unspeakable importance. These

illustrious examples, if any thing, must make the infidel

abashed of his vain cavils, and put a stop to that torrent of

vice, profaneness, and immorality, by which the age is so

unhappily distinguished.

This city can justly boast of other signal characters of the

same kind, whom learning and piety, taste and devotion,

philosophy and faith, joined to the severest morals and most

irreproachable conduct, concur to embellish. One in

particular, with the same hand by which he turns over the

sublime pages of Homer and Virgil, Demosthenes and Cicero, is

not ashamed to open with reverence the sacred volumes; and

with the same voice by which, from the pulpit, he strikes vice

with consternation, he deigns to dictate to his pupils the

most useful lessons of rhetoric, poetry, and polite

literature.[470:2]

Hume was an early friend of Benjamin Franklin, whom he was instrumental

in introducing to his Parisian friends.[471:1] The celebrated

publication of the papers revealing the policy of the ascendency party,

and the scene at the council board, of which Franklin so deeply

cherished the memory, are thus alluded to in a letter to Smith, of 13th

February, 1774:--

"Pray, what strange accounts are these we hear of Franklin's conduct? I

am very slow in believing that he has been guilty in the extreme degree

that is pretended; though I always knew him to be a very factious man,

and faction, next to fanaticism, is of all passions the most destructive

of morality. How is it supposed he got possession of these letters? I

hear that Wedderburn's treatment of him before the council was most

cruel, without being in the least blameable. What a pity!"[471:2]

The following, among the very few letters which Hume appears to have

written at this period of his life, is addressed to John Home.

"_St. Andrew's Square, 4th June, 1774._

"DEAR JOHN,--The enclosed came to hand to-day, and, as I take it to be

directed to you, I have sent it you. If on opening it you find it

otherwise, you may return it to me, that I may find the true owner.

"You have seen, no doubt, the specimen of a Scotch review.[472:1] My

first conjecture was that Carlyle was the author; but Dr. Blair has

convinced me that it is much more probably the production of your

spiritual guide, Tom Hepburn;[472:2] but, whoever be the father, the

child has a great deal of salt, and spirit, and humour. I wish he would

continue, though at the hazard of my getting a rap over the knuckles

from time to time; for I see in this hero the spirit of a Drawcansir,

who spares neither friend nor foe. I think I can reckon about twenty

people, not including the king, whom he has attacked in this short

performance. I hope all his spleen is not exhausted. I should desire my

compliments to him, were I not afraid that he would interpret the

civility as paying black mail to him. I am, dear John, yours

sincerely."[472:3]

The following appears to be the earliest letter in which Hume expresses

himself conscious of some unpleasant feelings, systematic of a decay of

the physical functions.

HUME _to_ COLONEL EDMONDSTOUNE.

"_Edinburgh, 23d March, 1775._

"CARO GIUSEPPE,--No request can be more obliging than yours; and no

party could have been proposed to any place, or with any company, more

agreeable to me. But you remember what a plague I was to every body and

to myself on my last journey; and you may recollect that I made a vow,

in the bitterness of my distress, never more to leave my own house, nor

lie out of my own bed. This vow I have religiously kept, except two or

three days last autumn, when I went to my brother's; and though I could

scarcely there esteem myself from home, I resolved never more to pay

them a visit. You have not a bed cool enough for me, which proceeds not

from any distemper or disorder, but from a peculiarity of constitution,

that has been gradually increasing on me these last twelve years. I am

in very good health: but let me tell you, that you express yourself

strangely when you say I have been _complaining_. How could you imagine

that I could ever complain, even though _fractus illabatur orbis_? I

beseech you, know better the people to whom you speak, and the force of

the terms you make use of. Miss Keiths desired me to tell you, that some

time ago they had a letter from Sir Basil, by which they learn that your

request with regard to Maillet's friend, is complied with.

"My compliments to Mrs. Edmondstoune; embrace Jean Jacques in my name.

Dear Guidelianus, I am ever yours."[473:1]

Colonel Edmondstoune's answer to these excuses is not a little curious.

DEAR OBSTINATE DAVID,

_Pravum_ et tenacem propositi virum

Non civium ardor _recta_ jubentium

Non vultus instantis _Baronnæ_

Mente quatit _stolida_.

Will nothing move you, you obdurate philosopher? Your reasons

are not worth a straw; and I'll prosecute you for scandalizing

my house. The room next to your last is as cool as any room

ought to be. It looks to the north, and you was put into a

south room, merely because it was thought that the sun's

vivifying ray would be of use to a man that had been worn out

and so much epuisé in France. Besides, you scrub, have I not

seen you basking for hours together in the sun, contemplating

Shellie, and burning with envy at his prowess? and I heard

nothing about your being heated till we came to Killin, and

that was Crichen's doing, to season you for still a hotter

place.[474:1]

HUME _to his Nephew_.[474:2]

"_St. Andrew's Square, 30th August, 1775._

"DEAR DAVY,--Your letter gave me satisfaction, and I approve very much

of your course of study. But I think you are unreasonably diffident of

yourself with regard to the _copia verborum_: you are not wanting in

that particular [consider]ing you as a beginner; and the course you take

will tend very much to [produce] greater facility as well as correctness

of expression. Stylus est optimus [magis]ter eloquentiæ. These, if not

the words, are the sense of Quinctilian, for I cite from memory. You

know that the Roman stylus was the same as the pen.

"I had a letter to-day from Mr. Millar,[474:3] who tells me that he

expects to see you on the first Monday of November.

"I do not go to Inverara as soon as I proposed: it will be next week

before I set out. I think I am the better for jaunting; though in the

main I should like better to stay at home.

"My compliments to your mother; I am glad she has heard from Josey; but

I wonder what has detained him so long at Paris.

"I fancy you and Jock are very happy at present in your field sports;

and your father will not be displeased to see the favourable progress of

the harvest. I am, dear Davy, your affectionate uncle."[475:1]

HUME _to_ JOHN HOME.

_St. Andrew's Square, Sept. 20th, 1775._

DEAR JOHN,--Of all the vices of language, the least excusable

is the want of perspicuity; for, as words were instituted by

men, merely for conveying their ideas to each other, the

employing of words without meaning is a palpable abuse, which

departs from the very original purpose and intention of

language. It is also to be observed, that any ambiguity in

expression is next to the having no meaning at all; and is

indeed a species of it; for while the hearer or reader is

perplexed between different meanings, he can assign no

determinate idea to the speaker or writer; and may, on that

account, say with Ovid, "Inopem me copia fecit." For this

reason, all eminent rhetoricians and grammarians, both ancient

and modern, have insisted on perspicuity of language as an

essential quality; without which, all ornaments of diction are

vain and fruitless. Quinctilian carries the matter so far, as

to condemn this expression, _vidi hominem librum legentem_;

because, says he, legentem may construe as well with _librum_

as _hominem_; though one would think that the sense were here

sufficient to prevent all ambiguity. In conformity to this

way of thinking, Vaugelas, the first great grammarian of

France, will not permit that any one have recourse to the

sense, in order to explain the meaning of the words; because,

says he, it is the business of the words to explain the

meaning of the sense--not of the sense to give a determinate

meaning to the words; and this practice is reversing the order

of nature; like the custom of the Romans (he might have added

the Greeks,) in their Saturnalia, who made the slaves the

masters; for you may learn from Lucian that the Greeks

practised the same frolic during the festival of Saturn, whom

they called Χρονος.

Now, to apply, and to come to the use of this principle: I

must observe to you, that your last letter, besides a

continued want of distinctness in the form of the literal

characters, has plainly transgressed the essential rule

above-mentioned of grammar and rhetoric. You say that Coutts

has complained to you of not hearing from me; had you said

either James or Thomas, I could have understood your meaning.

About two months ago, I heard that James complained of me in

this respect; and I wrote to him, though then abroad, making

an apology for my being one of the subscribers of a paper

which gave him some offence. I was afraid he had not received

mine. The letter of Thomas, I conceived to be only a circular

letter, informing me of a change in the firm of the house: and

having answered it a few days ago, by giving him some

directions about disposing of my money, which proved that I

intended to remain a customer to the shop; it happens,

therefore, luckily, that I had obviated all objections to my

conduct on both sides.

In turning over my papers, I find a manuscript journal of the

last rebellion, which is at your service. I hope Mrs. Home is

better, and will be able to execute her journey. Are you to be

in town soon? Yours without ambiguity, circumlocution, or

mental reservation.[476:1]

Hume, though we have found him censuring the conduct of Franklin, was

opposed to any attempt to coerce America. "I always thought," says Sir

John Pringle, when writing to him, "you were in the wrong, when you

supposed these colonies wanted only a pretext to shake off their

subjection."[477:1] This subjection he seems to have thought they were

entitled to throw off; for he was far more tolerant of the sway of

individuals over numbers, which he looked upon as the means of

preserving order and civilization, than of the predominance of one

territory over another, which he looked upon as subjugation.

Unfortunately, few of his opinions on this subject can be better

ascertained than by the reflex light of the letters addressed to him, in

answer to his remarks. With Strahan, the eminent printer, he carried on

an extensive correspondence on political matters, of which the letters

on his own side have unfortunately been lost.[477:2] The sentiments

which Hume had expressed on the American war, are thus described, by

contrast, in the words of that member of Parliament, to whom Franklin

addressed his celebrated letter of defiance.

WILLIAM STRAHAN _to_ HUME.

I differ from you _toto cœlo_ with regard to America. I am

entirely for coercive methods with those obstinate madmen; and

why should we despair of success? Why should we suffer the

empire to be so dismembered, without the utmost exertions on

our part? I see nothing so very formidable in this business,

if we become a little more unanimous, and could stop the

mouths of domestic traitors, from whence the evil originated.

Not that I wish to enslave the colonists, or to make them one

jot less happy than ourselves; but I am for keeping them

subordinate to the British legislature; and their trade, in a

reasonable degree, subservient to the interest of the mother

country; an advantage she well deserves; but which she must

inevitably lose, if they are emancipated, as you propose. I am

really surprised you are of a different opinion. Very true,

things look oddly at present; and the dispute hath, hitherto,

been very ill managed; but so we always do at the commencement

of every war. So we did, most remarkably, in the last. It is

perhaps owing to the nature of our government, which permits

not of those sudden and decisive exertions frequently made by

arbitrary princes. But, so soon as the British lion is roused,

we never fail to fetch up our lee-way, as the sailors say. And

so I hope you will find it in this important case.[478:1]

The following letter, which is not, however, written in a spirit of

entire earnestness or sobriety, has some reference to his views on the

American question.

HUME _to_ BARON MURE.

"_St. David's Street, Oct. 27th, 1775._

"OH! DEAR BARON,--You have thrown me into agonies, and almost into

convulsions, by your request. You ask what seems reasonable,--what seems

a mere trifle; yet am I so unfit for it, that it is almost impossible

for me to comply. You are much fitter yourself. That address, by which

you gained immortal honour, was done altogether without my knowledge; I

mean that after the suppression of the late rebellion. Here is Lord Home

teazing me for an address from the Merse; and I have constantly refused

him. Besides, I am an American in my principles, and wish we would let

them alone to govern or misgovern themselves, as they think proper: the

affair is of no consequence, or of little consequence, to us. If the

county of Renfrew think it indispensably necessary for them to

interpose in public matters, I wish they would advise the king, first to

punish those insolent rascals in London and Middlesex, who daily insult

him and the whole legislature, before he thinks of America. Ask him, how

he can expect that a form of government will maintain an authority at

three thousand miles' distance, when it cannot make itself be respected,

or even be treated with common decency, at home. Tell him, that Lord

North, though, in appearance, a worthy gentleman, has not a head for

these great operations; and that, if fifty thousand men, and twenty

millions of money, were intrusted to such a lukewarm coward as Gage,

they never could produce any effect. These are objects worthy of the

respectable county of Renfrew: not mauling the poor infatuated Americans

in the other hemisphere."[479:1]

It has already been said, that Hume appears to have suspected that his

nephew, David, was imbibing republican principles. It is well worthy of

remark, that he does not appear to have considered the training of his

young nephews, in political opinions different from his own, as at all

to be deprecated; and David, to whom the following letter is addressed,

was boarded with Professor Millar, afterwards author of the "Historical

View of the English Government," who had even then shown himself as one

of the most powerful antagonists of Hume's constitutional doctrines. It

must be regretted that the letter is much mutilated; but enough of it is

preserved to show how lightly Hume's political opinions hung on him--how

little they possessed the character of a creed--how tolerant he was of

any system of politics which bore the air of philosophy, and how

curiously he could let his reason vibrate between opinions of the most

opposite character in practical politics.

HUME _to his_ NEPHEW.

"_Edinburgh, 8th December, 1775._

"DEAR DAVY,--All your letters, both to me and to your father, have

[given] great satisfaction, particularly your last; and, in return, I

must give you [the] satisfaction of telling you, that Mr. Millar is very

well pleased with you, [-----] no less than you with him. He complains

only of one thing, which [is not the] usual complaint of tutors against

their pupils; to wit, that he is afraid you [apply too] close, and may

hurt your health by too assiduous study. I should not men[tion this] if

I had the least apprehension that a hint of this nature would m[ake you]

relax too much. But I cannot forbear saying, that every day, fair or

foul, [you] ought to use some exercise. Relaxation from [for?]

amusement, you may use, [or not,] as you fancy; but that, for health, is

absolutely necessary. When I was [of your] age, I was inclined to give

in to excesses of the same kind; and I remember [an anecdote] told me by

a friend, the present Lord Pitfour. A man was riding, with [great]

violence, and running his horse quite out of wind. He stopt a moment to

[ask when] he might reach a particular place. In two hours, replied the

countryman, [if you] will go slower; in four if you be in such a hurry.

Bad health, be[sides other] inconveniencies, is the greatest interrupter

to study in the world.

"I cannot but agree with Mr. Millar, that the republican form of

government is by far the best. The ancient republics were somewhat

ferocious and torn [-----] by bloody factions; but they were still much

preferable to the monarchies or [aristocracies] which seem to have been

quite intolerable. Modern manners have corrected this abuse; and all the

republics in Europe, without exception, are so well governed that one is

at a loss to which we should give the preference. But what is this

general subject of speculation to our purpose? For, besides that an

established government [-----] without the most criminal imputation, be

disjointed from any speculation, [-----] is only fitted for a small

state; and any attempt towards it can, in our [-----] produce only

anarchy, which is the immediate forerunner of despotism [-----] tell us

what is that form of a republic which we must aspire to? Or [-----]stion

be afterwards decided by the sword. [One] great advantage of a

commonwealth over our mixed monarchy, is, that it [would consid]erably

abridge our liberty; which is growing to such an extreme as to be

incom[patible wi]th all. Such fools are they who perpetually cry out

liberty, [and think to] augment it by shaking off the monarchy.

"I have not heard from Josey for some time, which, you may believe, has

produced [-----] reflections in some of your friends. But to show you

that you are not forgotten [-----] I showed Mr. Millar's letter to your

mother. I am afraid, said she, that [-----] some symptoms of a

consumption in poor Davy.

"[I a]m far from thinking Mr. Millar's demands in point of money

unreas[onable.] On the contrary, I believe that I never laid out money

to better purpose.

"[Ha]rrington is an author of genius, but chimerical. No laws, however

rigorous, [would ma]ke his Agrarian practicable. And as the people have

only a negative, the [-----] would perpetually gain ground upon them.

You remember that Montesquieu says, that Harrington establishing his

"Oceana" in opposition to the English constitution, is like the blind

men who built Chalcedon on the opposite [-----] to the seat of

Byzantium. I ask your pardon for not writing to you [sooner,] but beg

the continuance of your correspondence. My compliments to [Mr. Millar,]

to whom I owe a letter. I am, your affectionate uncle."[482:1]

HUME _to_ JOHN HOME.

"_Edinburgh, 8th February, 1776._

"DEAR TYRTAEUS,--It is a remark of Dr. Swift's, that no man in London

ever complained of his being neglected by his friends in the country.

Your complaint of me is the more flattering.

"Two posts ago, I received, under a frank of General Fraser's, a

pamphlet, entitled _A letter from an officer retired_. It is a very good

pamphlet; and I conjecture you to be the author. Sallust makes it a

question, whether the writer or the performer of good things has the

preference? and he ascribes the greater praise to the latter. It is

happy for you, that you may rest your fame on either. I here allude to

what you have done for Ferguson.

"But, pray, why do you say, that the post of Boston is like the camp of

Pirna? I fancy our troops can be withdrawn thence without any

difficulty.

"I make no doubt, since you sound the trumpet for war against the

Americans, that you have a plan ready for governing them, after they are

subdued: but you will not subdue them; unless they break in pieces

among themselves--an event very probable. It is a wonder it has not

happened sooner. But no man can foretell how far these frenzies of the

people may be carried. Yours," &c.[483:1]

The following letter exhibits a feeling of impatience for the appearance

of the long promised "Wealth of Nations." It shows, in discussing some

questions in political economy, that, with his usual sagacity, Hume

predicted that the loss of British supremacy over America, would not

have that dire effect on our commercial prosperity, which had been

anticipated.

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_Edinburgh, 8th Feb. 1776._

"DEAR SMITH,--I am as lazy a correspondent as you, yet my anxiety about

you makes me write. By all accounts your book has been printed long ago:

yet it has never yet been so much as advertised. What is the reason? If

you wait till the fate of America be decided, you may wait long.

"By all accounts, you intend to settle with us this spring: yet we hear

no more of it: What is the reason? Your chamber in my house is always

unoccupied. I am always at home. I expect you to land here.

"I have been, am, and shall be probably in an indifferent state of

health. I weighed myself t' other day, and find I have fallen five

complete stones. If you delay much longer I shall probably disappear

altogether.

"The Duke of Buccleuch tells me that you are very zealous in American

affairs. My notion is that the matter is not so important as is

commonly imagined. If I be mistaken, I shall probably correct my error

when I see you, or read you. Our navigation and general commerce may

suffer more than our manufactures. Should London fall as much in its

size as I have done, it will be the better. It is nothing but a hulk of

bad and unclean humours. Yours," &c.[484:1]

It is not perhaps uncharitable to suppose, that the following eulogium

would have been more warm, had the person it was addressed to not been

one of "the barbarians who inhabit the banks of the Thames."

HUME _to_ GIBBON.

_Edinburgh, 18th March, 1776._

DEAR SIR,--As I ran through your volume of history with a

great deal of avidity and impatience, I cannot forbear

discovering somewhat of the same impatience in returning you

thanks for your agreeable present, and expressing the

satisfaction which the performance has given me. Whether I

consider the dignity of your style, the depth of your matter,

or the extensiveness of your learning, I must regard the work

as equally the object of esteem; and I own, that if I had not

previously had the happiness of your personal acquaintance,

such a performance, from an Englishman in our age, would have

given me some surprise. You may smile at this sentiment; but

as it seems to me that your countrymen, for almost a whole

generation, have given themselves up to barbarous and absurd

faction, and have totally neglected all polite letters, I no

longer expected any valuable production ever to come from

them. I know it will give you pleasure (as it did me,) to find

that all the men of letters in this place concur in their

admiration of your work, and in their anxious desire of your

continuing it.

When I heard of your undertaking, (which was some time ago,) I

own I was a little curious to see how you would extricate

yourself from the subject of your two last chapters. I think

you have observed a very prudent temperament; but it was

impossible to treat the subject so as not to give grounds of

suspicion against you, and you may expect that a clamour will

arise. This, if any thing, will retard your success with the

public; for in every other respect your work is calculated to

be popular. But, among many other marks of decline, the

prevalence of superstition in England, prognosticates the fall

of philosophy and decay of taste; and though nobody be more

capable than you to revive them, you will probably find a

struggle in your first advances.

I see you entertain a great doubt with regard to the

authenticity of the poems of Ossian. You are certainly right

in so doing. It is, indeed, strange, that any men of sense

could have imagined it possible, that above twenty thousand

verses, along with numberless historical facts, could have

been preserved by oral tradition during fifty generations, by

the rudest, perhaps, of all European nations; the most

necessitous, the most turbulent, and the most unsettled. Where

a supposition is so contrary to common sense, any positive

evidence of it ought never to be regarded. Men run with great

avidity to give their evidence in favour of what flatters

their passions, and their national prejudices. You are,

therefore, over and above indulgent to us in speaking of the

matter with hesitation.

I must inform you, that we are all very anxious to hear that

you have fully collected the materials for your second volume,

and that you are even considerably advanced in the composition

of it. I speak this more in the name of my friends than in my

own; as I cannot expect to live so long as to see the

publication of it. Your ensuing volume will be more delicate

than the preceding, but I trust in your prudence for

extricating you from the difficulties; and, in all events, you

have courage to despise the clamour of bigots. I am, with

regard, &c.[485:1]

At length appeared the long looked for work, in which the parent of the

first elucidations of political economy was to see his own offspring

eclipsed; and to see it with pride. One must be familiar with the

unenvious friendship which Hume ever bestowed, on the fellow countrymen

who joined him in the noble path of philosophical inquiry, to appreciate

the genuine satisfaction with which he thus hailed the appearance of

"The Wealth of Nations."

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_Edinburgh, 1st April, 1776._

"EUGE! BELLE! DEAR MR. SMITH,--I am much pleased with your performance;

and the perusal of it has taken me from a state of great anxiety. It was

a work of so much expectation, by yourself, by your friends, and by the

public, that I trembled for its appearance, but am now much relieved.

Not but that the reading of it necessarily requires so much attention,

and the public is disposed to give so little, that I shall still doubt

for some time of its being at first very popular. But it has depth, and

solidity, and acuteness, and is so much illustrated by curious facts,

that it must at last take the public attention. It is probably much

improved by your last abode in London. If you were here at my fireside,

I should dispute some of your principles. I cannot think that the rent

of farms makes any part of the price of the produce, but that the price

is determined altogether by the quantity and the demand.[486:1] It

appears to me impossible, that the King of France can take a seignorage

of eight per cent upon the coinage. Nobody would bring bullion to the

mint; it would be all sent to Holland or England, where it might be

coined and sent back to France, for less than two per cent. Accordingly,

Necker says, that the French king takes only two per cent of seignorage.

But these and a hundred other points are fit only to be discussed in

conversation; which, till you tell me the contrary, I still flatter

myself with soon. I hope it will be soon; for I am in a very bad state

of health, and cannot afford a long delay. I fancy you are acquainted

with Mr. Gibbon. I like his performance extremely, and have ventured to

tell him, that, had I not been personally acquainted with him, I should

never have expected such an excellent work from the pen of an

Englishman. It is lamentable to consider how much that nation has

declined in literature during our time. I hope he did not take amiss the

national reflection.

"All your friends here are in great grief at present, for the death of

Baron Mure, which is an irreparable loss to our society. He was among

the oldest and best friends I had in the world."[487:1]

In April, 1776, the disease of which Hume subsequently died, had made

alarming progress. The little autobiographical sketch, called "my own

Life," was finished on the eighteenth of that month; and he there speaks

of the rise and progress of his disorder, and of his feelings under the

expectation of a speedy termination of his life, in the following

terms:--

In spring, 1775, I was struck with a disorder in my bowels,

which at first gave me no alarm, but has since, as I apprehend

it, become mortal and incurable. I now reckon upon a speedy

dissolution. I have suffered very little pain from my

disorder; and what is more strange, have, notwithstanding the

great decline of my person, never suffered a moment's

abatement of my spirits; insomuch, that were I to name the

period of my life which I should most choose to pass over

again, I might be tempted to point to this latter period. I

possess the same ardour as ever in study, and the same gaiety

in company. I consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by

dying, cuts off only a few years of infirmities; and though I

see many symptoms of my literary reputation's breaking out at

last with additional lustre, I knew that I could have but few

years to enjoy it. It is difficult to be more detached from

life than I am at present.

It was probably early in the year, and before the disease had made such

progress, as to make his friends in general anticipate its fatal

conclusion, that Dr. Black wrote the following undated letter on the

subject to Smith:--

"I write at present, chiefly to acquaint you with the state of your

friend David Hume's health, which is so bad that I am quite melancholy

upon it, and as I hear that you intend a visit to this country soon, I

wish if possible to hasten your coming, that he may have the comfort of

your company so much the sooner. He has been declining several years,

and this in a slow and gradual manner, until about a twelvemonth ago,

since which the progress of his disorder has been more rapid. One of his

distresses has been a sensation of excessive heat, chiefly in the night

time, and which was only external, for it occasioned no internal

distress, or anxiety, or thirst."

Black then proceeds to describe with more minuteness, than would be

either pleasing or instructive to unscientific readers, a series of

symptoms from which he infers that the most serious part of his

patient's disorder, is a hemorrhage in the upper part of the

intestines.[488:1] He continues,--

"His mother, he says, had precisely the same constitution with himself,

and died of this very disorder; which has made him give up any hopes of

his getting the better of it." He concludes by saying,--

"Do not, however, say much on this subject to any one else; as he does

not like to have it spoke of, and has been shy and slow in acquainting

me fully with the state of his health."

In preparation for the event, which could not be far distant, he had

executed a settlement of his estate, so early as the 4th of January. He

left the bulk of his fortune to his brother, or, in the case of his

predeceasing him, to his nephew David, burdened in the latter case with

special legacies to his other nephews and his nieces. He left his sister

£1200. Along with some legacies to a few obscure private friends and to

his servants, he left £200 to D'Alembert, and the same sum to Adam

Ferguson.[489:1] He appointed Smith his literary executor, in the

following terms:[490:1] "To my friend Dr. Adam Smith, late Professor of

Moral Philosophy in Glasgow, I leave all my manuscripts without

exception, desiring him to publish my 'Dialogues on Natural Religion,'

which are comprehended in this present bequest; but to publish no other

papers which he suspects not to have been written within these five

years, but to destroy them all at his leisure. And I even leave him full

power over all my papers, except the Dialogues above mentioned; and

though I can trust to that intimate and sincere friendship, which has

ever subsisted between us, for his faithful execution of this part of my

will, yet, as a small recompense of his pains in correcting and

publishing this work, I leave him two hundred pounds, to be paid

immediately after the publication of it."

Smith subsequently refused to receive payment of the legacy; and it was

the cause of a long friendly discussion with Mr. Home of Ninewells, who,

in opposition to his argument, that it was bequeathed as a remuneration

for editorial labours, which by a subsequent alteration of the bequest

did not require to be performed, urged such pleas as this, "My brother,

knowing your liberal way of thinking, laid on you something as an

equivalent, not imagining you would refuse a small gratuity from the

funds it was to come from, as a testimony of his friendship."[490:2] But

he pleaded in vain; and Smith continued to refuse the bequest, with all

the firmness of his unmercenary nature.

Previous to his journey to Bath, which has to be presently narrated,

Hume appears to have informed Smith of the desire expressed in his will,

that he should undertake the publication of the "Dialogues on Natural

Religion." The intimation was probably verbal, as it does not form part

of any letter among Hume's papers. Elliot was opposed to the publication

of this work. Blair pleaded strongly for its suppression; and Smith, who

had made up his mind, that he would not edit the work, seems to have

desired that the testamentary injunction laid on him might be revoked.

Hume, however, before his death, took effectual steps to guard against

its suppression.

Thus, after having good-naturedly abstained, for nearly thirty years,

from the publication of a work, which might give pain and umbrage to his

dearest friends; at the close of life, and when the lapse of time since

it was written might have been supposed to render him indifferent to its

fate,--because there appeared some danger of its final suppression, he

took decided and well pondered steps to avert from it this fate. Such

was the character of the man!

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_London, 3d May, 1776._

"MY DEAR FRIEND,--I send you enclosed an ostensible letter, conformably

to your desire. I think, however, your scruples groundless. Was Mallet

any wise hurt by his publication of Lord Bolingbroke? He received an

office afterwards from the present king and Lord Bute, the most prudish

men in the world; and he always justified himself by his sacred regard

to the will of a dead friend. At the same time, I own that your scruples

have a specious appearance. But my opinion is, that if upon my death you

determine never to publish these papers, you should leave them sealed up

with my brother and family, with some inscription that you reserve to

yourself the power of reclaiming them whenever you think proper. If I

live a few years longer, I shall publish them myself. I consider an

observation of Rochefoucault, that a wind, though it extinguishes a

candle, blows up a fire.

"You may be surprised to hear me talk of living years, considering the

state you saw me in, and the sentiments which both I and all my friends

at Edinburgh entertained on that subject. But though I cannot come up

entirely to the sanguine notions of our friend John, I find myself very

much recovered on the road, and I hope Bath waters and farther journeys,

may effect my cure.

"By the little company I have seen, I find the town very full of your

book, which meets with general approbation. Many people think particular

points disputable; but this you certainly expected. I am glad that I am

one of the number; as these points will be the subject of future

conversation between us. I set out for Bath, I believe, on Monday, by

Sir John Pringle's directions, who says, that he sees nothing to be

apprehended in my case. If you write to me (hem! hem!) I say if you

write to me, send your letter under cover to Mr. Strahan, who will have

my direction."[492:1]

The "ostensible letter" which was to serve as Smith's justification, if

he should decline to follow the injunctions of the will, is as

follows:--

"_London, 3d May, 1776._

"MY DEAR SIR,--After reflecting more maturely on that article of my will

by which I left you the disposal of all my papers, with a request that

you should publish my 'Dialogues concerning Natural Religion,' I have

become sensible that, both on account of the nature of the work, and of

your situation, it may be improper to hurry on that publication. I

therefore take the present opportunity of qualifying that friendly

request. I am content to leave it entirely to your discretion, at what

time you will publish that piece, or whether you will publish it at all.

"You will find among my papers a very inoffensive piece, called "my own

Life," which I composed a few days before I left Edinburgh; when I

thought, as did all my friends, that my life was despaired of. There can

be no objection, that the small piece should be sent to Messrs. Strahan

and Cadell, and the proprietors of my other works, to be prefixed to any

future edition of them."[493:1]

Smith did not absolutely refuse to edit the "Dialogues," but Hume saw

pretty clearly that it was a task that would not be performed by him.

That he was correct in this supposition, appears by a letter from Smith

to Strahan after Hume's death, where he says:

"I once had persuaded him to leave it entirely to my discretion either

to publish them at what time I thought proper, or not to publish them at

all. Had he continued of this mind, the manuscript should have been most

carefully preserved, and upon my decease restored to his family; but it

never should have been published in my lifetime. When you have read it,

you will perhaps think it not unreasonable to consult some prudent

friend about what you ought to do."[494:1]

By a codicil to his will, dated 7th August, he thus altered the

arrangement referred to in these letters. "In my later will and

disposition, I made some destinations with regard to my manuscripts: All

these I now retract, and leave my manuscripts to the care of Mr. William

Strahan of London, member of Parliament, trusting to the friendship that

has long subsisted between us, for his careful and faithful execution of

my intentions. I desire that my 'Dialogues concerning Natural Religion'

may be printed and published, any time within two years after my death."

After making the bequest to John Home which is mentioned farther on,

leaving to Blair, Smith, Home, and Edmondstoune, "all of them persons

very dear to me, and whose affection to me I know by repeated proofs to

have been mutual," each a copy of the new edition of his works, and to

Miss Ord, ten guineas to buy a ring, "as a memorial of his friendship

and attachment to so amiable and accomplished a person," the codicil is

signed. There is then a new paragraph appended as follows:

"I do ordain that if my 'Dialogues,' from whatever cause, be not

published within two years and a half after my death, as also the

account of my life, the property shall return to my nephew, David, whose

duty in publishing them, as the last request of his uncle, must be

approved of by all the world."[494:2]

Both Hume and Smith seem to have thought that Strahan would undertake

the publication as a mere matter of business. But this book, like the

little hunchback in the "Arabian Nights," was a commodity which every

one seemed anxious to transfer to his neighbour. Strahan declined to

undertake the task, and the "Dialogues" did not appear until 1779, when

they were published by their author's nephew.

Smith cheerfully agreed to undertake the superintendance of the new

edition of his friend's works, then at press. They appear to have been

all in a state of very finished preparation for the press, and an

edition of the "Inquiries" and the miscellaneous essays was published in

1777, from a copy in which the author had completed that removal of

passages of a democratic tendency, which has been so frequently alluded

to.

By the entreaties of several friends, who believed that travelling might

have a favourable influence on his health, Hume undertook a journey to

London towards the end of April. At Morpeth he met with Adam Smith and

John Home, on their way from London, to visit him in Edinburgh, in

consequence of a letter which the former had received from Ferguson, who

says, "David, I am afraid, loses ground. He is cheerful and in good

spirits as usual; but I confess that my hopes, from the effects of the

turn of the season towards spring, have very much abated."

Smith proceeded to Edinburgh, but Home went back to London with his

friend, and fortunately preserved a diary of the journey, so very

interesting, and containing so lively a picture of Hume's state of mind

and habits, that, though already published,[495:1] the reader would not

excuse its omission on this occasion.

_Note by_ MR. JOHN HOME.

Soon after Mr. Home received the letter from Dr. Ferguson, he

left London, and set out for Scotland with Mr. Adam Smith.

They came to Morpeth on the 23d of April, 1776, and would have

passed Mr. David Hume, if they had not seen his servant,

Colin, standing at the gate of an inn. Mr. Home thinks that

his friend, Mr. David Hume, is much better than he expected to

find him. His spirits are astonishing: he talks of his

illness, of his death, as matters of no moment, and gives an

account of what passed between him and his physicians since

his illness began, with his usual wit, or with more wit than

usual.

He acquainted Mr. Adam Smith and me, that Dr. Black had not

concealed the opinion he had of the desperateness of his

condition, and was rather averse to his setting out. "Have you

no reason against it," said David, "but an apprehension that

it may make me die sooner?--that is no reason at all." I never

saw him more cheerful, or in more perfect possession of all

his faculties, his memory, his understanding, his wit. It is

agreed that Smith shall go on to Scotland, and that I should

proceed to Bath with David. We are to travel one stage before

dinner, and one after dinner. Colin tells me that he thinks

Mr. Hume better than when he left Edinburgh. We had a fine

evening as we went from Morpeth to Newcastle. David seeing a

pair of pistols in the chaise, said, that as he had very

little at stake, he would indulge me in my humour of fighting

the highwaymen. Whilst supper was getting ready at the inn,

Mr. Hume and I played an hour at picquet. Mr. David was very

keen about his card-playing.

_Newcastle, Wednesday, 24th April._

Mr. Hume not quite so well in the morning--says, that he had

set out merely to please his friends; that he would go on to

please them; that Ferguson and Andrew Stuart, (about whom we

had been talking,) were answerable for shortening his life one

week a-piece; for, says he, you will allow Xenophon to be good

authority; and he lays it down, that suppose a man is dying,

nobody has a right to kill him. He set out in this vein, and

continued all the stage in his cheerful and talking humour. It

was a fine day, and we went on to Durham--from that to

Darlington, where we passed the night.

In the evening Mr. Hume thinks himself more easy and light,

than he has been any time for three months. In the course of

our conversation we touched upon the national affairs. He

still maintains, that the national debt must be the ruin of

Britain; and laments that the two most civilized nations, the

English and French, should be on the decline; and the

barbarians, the Goths and Vandals of Germany and Russia,

should be rising in power and renown. The French king, he

says, has ruined the state by recalling the parliaments. Mr.

Hume thinks that there is only one man in France fit to be

minister, (the Archbishop of Toulouse,) of the family of

Brienne. He told me some curious anecdotes with regard to this

prelate; that he composed and corrected without writing; that

Mr. Hume had heard him repeat an elegant oration of an hour

and a quarter in length, which he had never written. Mr. Hume,

talking with the Princess Beauvais about French policy, said

that he knew but one man in France capable of restoring its

greatness; the lady said she knew one too, and wished to hear

if it was the same. They accordingly named each their man, and

it was this prelate.[497:1]

_Thursday, 25th._

Left Darlington about nine o'clock, and came to Northallerton.

The same delightful weather. A shower fell that laid the dust,

and made our journey to Boroughbridge more pleasant. Mr. Hume

continues very easy, and has a tolerable appetite; tastes

nothing liquid but water, and sups upon an egg. He assured me,

that he never possessed his faculties more perfectly; that he

never was more sensible of the beauties of any classic author

than he was at present, nor loved more to read. When I am not

in the room with him he reads continually. The post-boys can

scarcely be persuaded to drive only five miles an hour, and

their horses are of the same way of thinking! The other

travellers, as they pass, look into the chaise, and laugh at

our slow pace. This evening the post-boy from Northallerton,

who had required a good deal of threatening to make him drive

as slow as we desired, had no sooner taken his departure to go

home, than he set off at full speed. "_Pour se dédommager_,"

said David.

_Friday, 26th, Boroughbridge._

Mr. Hume this morning not quite so well. He observes, and I

see it, that he has a good day and a bad one. His illness is

an internal hemorrhage, which has been wasting him for a long

time. He is so thin that he chooses to have a cushion under

him when he sits upon an ordinary chair. He told me to-day,

that if Louis XV. had died in the time of the regency, the

whole French nation were determined to bring back the King of

Spain to be King of France,--so zealous were they for

preserving the line of succession. This evening Mr. Hume not

quite so well, and goes to bed at a more early hour than he

used to do.

_Ferrybridge, Sunday, 28th._

Mr. Hume much better this morning. He told me, that the French

nation had no great opinion of Cardinal Fleury; that the

English had extolled him, in opposition to their own minister

Sir Robert Walpole; but that Fleury was a little genius, and a

cheat. Lord Marischal acquainted Mr. Hume with a piece of

knavery which his lordship said nobody but a Frenchman and a

priest could have been guilty of. The French ambassador at

Madrid came to Lord Marischal one day, and told him, that he

had a letter from the French minister at Petersburgh,

acquainting him that General Keith was not pleased with his

situation in Russia, and wished to return to the Spanish

service, (where he had formerly been;) that it would be proper

for Lord Marischal to apply to the court of Spain. Lord

Marischal said nothing could be more agreeable to him than to

have his brother in the same country with him; but that, as he

had heard nothing from himself, he could not make any

application in his name. The French minister still urged him

to write to the Spanish minister, but in vain. When the

brothers met, several years after, they explained this matter.

Keith had never any intention of coming into the Spanish

service again; and if Lord Marischal had applied to the court

of Spain, measures were taken to intercept the letter, and

send it to the court of Russia. General Keith, who commanded

the Russian army in the field against the Swedes, would have

been arrested, and sent to Siberia; and the moment he had left

the army, the Swedes were to attack the Russians. Mr. Hume

told me, talking of Fleury, that Monsieur Trudent,[499:1] who

was his eléve, acquainted him with an anecdote of that

minister and the late French king, which he, Mr. Hume,

believes Trudent had never ventured to tell to any body but

him; and he (David) had never told it to any body but me. Now,

since Fleury, Trudent, and Lewis, are all dead, it may be

told. Trudent took the liberty of observing to Fleury, that

the king should be advised to apply a little more to business,

and take some charge of his own affairs. Fleury, the first

time Trudent spoke to him upon this subject, made him no

answer; but upon his speaking again on the same subject, he

told him, that he had entreated the king to be a man of

business, and assured him that the French did not like an

inactive prince; that in former times, there had been a race

of indolent princes who did nothing at all, and were called

_Les Rois Fainéants_; that one of them had been put into a

convent. The king made no reply; but some time afterwards,

when Fleury resumed the subject, the king asked him, whether

or no the prince that was put into the convent had a good

pension allowed him?[499:2]

Mr. Hume this day told me, that he had bought a piece of

ground; and when I seemed surprised that I had never heard of

it, he said it was in the New Church-yard, on the Calton Hill,

for a burying-place; that he meant to have a small monument

erected, not to exceed in expense one hundred pounds; that the

inscription should be

DAVID HUME.

I desired him to change the discourse. He did so; but seemed

surprised at my uneasiness, which he said was very

nonsensical. I think he is gaining ground; but he laughs at

me, and says it is impossible; that the year ('76,) sooner or

later, he takes his departure. He is willing to go to Bath, or

travel during the summer through England, and return to

Scotland to die at home; but that Sir John Pringle, and the

whole faculty, would find it very difficult to boat him,

(formerly an usual phrase in Scotland for going abroad, that

is, out of the island, for health.) This day we travelled by

his desire three stages, and arrived with great ease at

Grantham.

_Monday, 29th._

From the treatment Mr. Hume met with in France, he recurred to

a subject not unfrequent with him--that is, the design to ruin

him as an author, by the people that were ministers, at the

first publication of his History, and called themselves Whigs,

who, he said, were determined not to suffer truth to be told

in Britain. Amongst many instances of this, he told me one

which was new to me. The Duke of Bedford, (who afterwards

conceived a great affection for Mr. Hume,) by the suggestions

of some of his party friends, ordered his son, Lord Tavistock,

not to read Mr. Hume's History of England; but the young man

was prevailed upon by one of his companions (Mr. Crawford of

Errol) to disobey the command. He read the History, and was

extremely pleased with it.

Mr. Hume told me, that the Duke de Choiseul, at the time Lord

Hertford was in France, expressed the greatest inclination for

peace, and a good correspondence between France and Britain.

He assured Lord Hertford, that if the court of Britain would

relinquish Falkland Island, he would undertake to procure from

the court of Spain the payment of the Manilla ransom. Lord

Hertford communicated the proposal to Mr. Grenville, who

slighted it. Lord Hertford told Mr. Hume the same day an

extraordinary instance of the violence of faction. Towards the

end of Queen Anne's reign, when the Whig ministers were turned

out of all their places at home, and the Duke of Marlborough

still continued in the command of the army abroad, the

discarded ministers met, and wrote a letter, which was signed

by Lord Somers, Lord Townshend, Lord Sunderland, and Sir

Robert Walpole, desiring the duke to bring over the troops he

could depend on, and that they would seize the queen's person,

and proclaim the Elector of Hanover Regent. The Duke of

Marlborough answered the letter, and said it was madness to

think of such a thing. Mr. Horace Walpole, Sir R. Walpole's

youngest son, confirmed the truth of this anecdote, which he

had heard his father repeat often and often; and Mr. Walpole

allowed Mr. Hume to quote him as his authority, and make what

use he pleased of it. When George I. came to England, he

hesitated whether to make a Whig or a Tory administration; but

the German minister, Bernstorf, determined him to take the

side of the Whigs, who had made a purse of thirty thousand

guineas, and given it to this German. George I. was of a

moderate and gentle temper.--He regretted all his life, that

he had given way to the violence of the Whigs in the beginning

of his reign. Whenever any difficulty occurred in parliament,

he used to blame the impeachment of the Tories,--"Ce diable de

impeachment," as he called it.

The Whigs, in the end of Queen Anne's reign, bribed the

Emperor's ministers, not to consent to the peace, and to send

over Prince Eugene with proposals to continue the war.

This anecdote from Lord Bath. Another anecdote Mr. Hume

mentioned, but distrusted the authority, for it was David

Mallet who told Mr. Hume, that he had evidence in his custody

of a design to assassinate Lord Oxford.

Prior, after the accession, was reduced to such poverty by the

persecution he met with, that he was obliged to publish his

works by subscription. Lord Bathurst told Mr. Hume, that he

was with Prior reading the pieces that were to be published,

and he thought there was not enough to make two small volumes.

He asked Prior if he had no more poems? He said, No more that

he thought good enough.--"What is that," said Bathurst,

pointing to a roll of paper. "A trifle," said Prior, "that I

wrote in three weeks, not worthy of your attention or that of

the public." Lord Bathurst desired to see it. This neglected

piece was _Alma_.

_Tuesday, 30th._

Last night, when Mr. Hume was going to bed, he complained of

cold. One part of his malady had been a continual heat, so

that he could not endure a soft or warm bed, and lay in the

night with a single sheet upon him; he desired to have an

additional covering. Colin observed to him, that he thought it

a good symptom. Mr. Hume said he thought so too, for it was a

good thing to be like other people. This morning he is

wonderfully well; which is visible in his countenance and

colour, and even the firmness of his step. Talking of the

state of the nation, which he continually laments, he

mentioned an anecdote of the former war. He was at Turin with

General Sinclair, after the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and,

considering the superiority which the French arms had gained,

he could not conceive why France granted such good terms to

Britain. He desired General Sinclair to touch upon that

subject with the King of Sardinia. That prince, who was very

familiar with the General, said he was at a loss to give any

account of that matter; but, many years after, when Hume was

minister in France, and lived in great intimacy with Monsieur

Puysieux, Secretary of State, who had negociated the peace of

Aix, Mr. Hume asked him the reason of the conduct of France at

that time? Puysieux told him, that it was the king's aversion

to war; that he knew more of it than any man alive, for, the

year before the peace, he was ordered by the king to propose

pretty near the same terms. He remonstrated against making the

offer; said that at least the proposal should come from

England; and that there was always some advantage to be gained

by receiving, rather than propounding terms. The king was

impatient, and obliged Puysieux to write the letter, (which

General Ligonier carried,) with those terms which next year

were agreed to by the British court. Mr. John Home said he

knew that the King of France promoted the peace of Paris from

the aversion he had to war; and the peace was made at a time

when it seemed impossible for Britain to carry on a war of

such extent, and retain her scattered conquests. Mr. Hume

mentioned another singular anecdote concerning the beginning

of the last war. When a squadron of the English fleet attacked

and took two French men of war, the Alcide and the Lys, Louis

XV. was so averse to war, that he would have pocketed the

insult; and Madame Pompadour said it was better to put up with

the affront, than to go to war without any object but the

point of honour. It is known, that neither the king nor the

ministers of England wished for war. The French king abhorred

the thought of war!--What then was the cause? Chiefly the fear

of the popular clamour, and of the opposition, in the Duke of

Newcastle's mind. Mr. Hume thinks Lord North no great

minister, but does not see a better; cannot give any reason

for the incapacity and want of genius, civil and military,

which marks this period. He looks upon the country as on the

verge of decline. His fears seem rather too great, and things

are not quite so bad as he apprehends; but certainly the first

show of statesmen, generals, and admirals, is, without

comparison, the worst that has been seen in this country. I

said to Mr. Hume, that I thought the great consideration to be

acquired by speaking in Parliament, was the cause of that want

of every other quality in men of rank: they do speak readily,

but there are many orators who can neither judge nor act well.

_Wednesday, 31st April._

Arrived in London, where we saw Sir John Pringle, who thought

Mr. Hume much better than he expected to see him, and in no

immediate danger. We staid a few days in London, and then set

out for Bath.

In travelling from London to Bath, we had occasion frequently

to make our observations on the passengers whom we met, and on

those who passed us, as every carriage continued to do.

Nothing occurred worthy the writing down, except Mr. David's

plan of managing his kingdom, in case Ferguson and I had been

princes of the adjacent states. He knew very well, he said,

(having often disputed the point with us,) the great opinion

we had of military virtues as essential to every state; that

from these sentiments rooted in us, he was certain he would be

attacked and interrupted in his projects of cultivating,

improving, and civilizing mankind by the arts of peace; that

he comforted himself with reflecting, that from our want of

economy and order in our affairs, we should be continually in

want of money; whilst he would have his finances in excellent

condition, his magazines well filled, and naval stores in

abundance; but that his final stroke of policy, upon which he

depended, was to give one of us a large subsidy to fall upon

the other, which would infallibly secure to him peace and

quiet, and after a long war, would probably terminate in his

being master of all the three kingdoms. At this sally, so like

David's manner of playing with his friends, I fell into a fit

of laughing, in which David joined; and the people that passed

us certainly thought we were very merry travellers.

We have the following account from his own pen of his sojourn at Bath.

HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.

"_Bath, 13th May, 1776._

"MY DEAR DOCTOR,--You have frequently heard me complain of my physical

friends, that they allowed me to die in the midst of them without so

much as giving a Greek name to my disorder: a consolation which was the

least I had reason to expect from them. Dr. Black, hearing this

complaint, told me that I should be satisfied in that particular, and

that my disorder was a hemorrhage, a word which it was easy to decompose

into αιμος[504:1] and ρηγνυμι. But Sir John Pringle says, that I

have no hemorrhage, but a spincture in the colon, which it will be easy

to cure. This disorder, as it both contained two Greek appellations and

was remediable, I was much inclined to prefer; when, behold! Dr. Gustard

tells me that he sees no symptoms of the former disorder, and as to the

latter, he never met with it and scarcely ever heard of it. He assures

me that my case is the most common of all Bath cases, to wit, a bilious

complaint, which the waters scarcely ever fail of curing: and he never

had a patient of whose recovery he had better hopes.

"Indeed the waters, in the short trial which I have made of them, (for I

have been here only four days,) seem to agree very well with me; and two

days ago I found myself so well, that, for the first time, I began to

entertain hopes of a reprieve. Yesterday I was not so well, from a

misunderstanding in new lodgings with regard to my bedding. My

whimsicalness in this particular surprises Dr. Gustard, and he knows not

what to make of it. By the by, this Dr. Gustard is an excellent kind of

man, very friendly, and I believe very intelligent. He assures me, as do

several others, that the summer is the best time for Bath waters: and if

they continue to agree with me I shall probably pass here that season. I

promised to General Conway, and Lady Aylesbury, that if I had recovered

so much health as to venture myself in company, I should pass some weeks

of the autumn at Park place. This is the only retardment I can foresee

to my return to Scotland before winter. My wishes carry me thither;

though the grievous loss we have suffered in friends makes the abode in

that country less pleasing to my fancy than formerly.

"You must have heard of the agreeable surprise which John Home put upon

me. We travelled up to London very cheerfully together, and thence to

this place, where we found Mrs. Home almost quite recovered. Never was

there a more friendly action, nor better placed; for what between

conversation and gaming, (not to mention sometimes squabbling,) I did

not pass a languid moment; and his company I am certain was the chief

cause why my journey had so good an effect: of which, however, I suppose

he has given too sanguine accounts, as is usual with him.[505:1]

"Be so good as to read this letter to Dr. Black and to Mr. Ferguson.

When I write to one, I suppose myself writing to all my friends: and I

also wish to comprehend the Principal in the number. Pray tell him that

Mrs. Macauley is settled in Bath, and though her muse seems now to be

mute, she is, if not a more illustrious, yet a more fortunate historian

than either of us. There is one Dr. Wilson, a man zealous for liberty,

who has made her a free and full present of a house of £2000 value, has

adopted her daughter by all the rites of Roman jurisprudence, and

intends to leave her all his fortune, which is considerable.

"Two ladies of my acquaintance have laid a scheme of bringing Lady

Huntingdon and me together, for her or my conversion. I wish I may have

spirits to humour this folly."[506:1]

On 10th June, Strahan wrote to Adam Smith, to say that he finds in a

letter from Sir John Pringle, giving an account of Hume's health, "that

all the good symptoms that attended his first trial of the Bath waters

are now vanished. His distemper has returned with its usual violence, so

he intends to leave that place and try Buxton."[506:2] He seems not to

have attempted this change, but returning straight from Bath, he sent,

on the way, invitations to a party of his friends to meet him at dinner.

The note addressed to Dr. Blair is as follows:

"Mr. John Hume,[506:3] alias Home, alias The Home, alias the late Lord

Conservator, alias the late minister of the gospel at Athelstaneford,

has calculated matters so as to arrive infallibly with his friend in St.

David's Street, on Wednesday evening. He has asked several of Dr.

Blair's friends to dine with him there on Thursday, being the 4th of

July, and begs the favour of the Doctor to make one of the

number."[507:1]

Thus did this knot of men, united in friendship by the greatness of

their talents, and their superiority to all things small and mean, meet

for the last time round the social board, to bid, as it were, a farewell

to him who had been the chief ornament and distinction of their circle.

The eyes of these affectionate friends sedulously and anxiously watched

the expiring flame--their pens have recorded the last scenes of its

existence, and leave to the ordinary biographer only the task of

embodying their statements in deferential silence. Nothing, therefore,

remains, but to put together, along with the few remaining letters by

Hume himself, the accounts furnished us by those who had the best means

of knowing the manner in which he spent the last few days of his life.

The following is his last letter to John Home.

"_Edinburgh, 6th August, 1776._

"MY DEAR JOHN,--I shall begin with telling you the only piece of good

news of the family, which is, that my nephew, in no more than two days

that he has staid here, has recovered so surprisingly, that he is

scarcely knowable, or rather is perfectly knowable, for he was not so on

his first arrival.[508:1] Such are the advantages of youth! His uncle

declines, if not with so great rapidity, yet pretty sensibly. Sunday,

ill; half of yesterday the same; easy at present; prepared to suffer a

little to-morrow; perhaps less the day after. Dr. Black says, I shall

not die of a dropsy, as I imagined, but of inanition and weakness. He

cannot, however, fix, with any probability, the time, otherwise he would

frankly tell me.

"Poor Edmondstoune and I parted to-day, with a plentiful effusion of

tears; all those _Belzebubians_[508:2] have not hearts of iron. I hope

you met with every thing well at Foggo, and receive nothing but good

news from Buxton. In spite of Dr. Black's caution, I venture to foretel

that I shall be yours cordially and sincerely till the month of October

next."[508:3]

Next in date is the following affectionate and considerate letter to

his nephew.

"_Edinburgh, 15th August, 1776._

"DEAR DAVY,--You need not doubt but your company, as well as your

father's, would have been very agreeable to me, especially at present,

for the consolation of your company; but I see the immediate

inconveniences that attend it. You cannot be well spared from Josey,

whose state of health, I am sorry to find, is still somewhat precarious;

and there is no immediate call for your being here. For besides that you

would but pass a melancholy time with me, however your affection might

cover it and relieve it, I am weakening very gradually, and am not

threatened with any immediate incident. I shall probably have more

warning, in which case I shall not fail to summon you; and I shall never

die in satisfaction without embracing you. I doubt not but my name would

have procured you friends and credit, in the course of your life,

especially if my brother had allowed you to carry it, for who will know

it in the present disguise? But as he is totally obstinate on this head,

I believe we had better let him alone. I have frequently told him, that

it is lucky for him he sees few things in a wrong light, for where he

does he is totally incurable. I am very much at my ease to-day. I beg my

compliments to all your family. Your affectionate uncle."[509:1]

Of the manner in which he conducted himself when he had come near to the

end of his days, Adam Smith tells us:--

His cheerfulness was so great, and his conversation and

amusements run so much in their usual strain, that,

notwithstanding all bad symptoms, many people could not

believe he was dying. "I shall tell your friend, Colonel

Edmondstoune," said Dr. Dundas to him one day, "that I left

you much better, and in a fair way of recovery." "Doctor,"

said he, "as I believe you would not choose to tell any thing

but the truth, you had better tell him, that I am dying as

fast as my enemies, if I have any, could wish, and as easily

and cheerfully as my best friends could desire." Colonel

Edmondstoune soon afterwards came to see him, and take leave

of him; and on his way home, he could not forbear writing him

a letter, bidding him once more an eternal adieu, and applying

to him, as to a dying man, the beautiful French verses in

which the Abbé Chaulieu, in expectation of his own death,

laments his approaching separation from his friend, the

Marquis de la Fare.[510:1] Mr. Hume's magnanimity and firmness

were such, that his most affectionate friends knew that they

hazarded nothing in talking or writing to him as to a dying

man, and that so far from being hurt by this frankness, he was

rather pleased and flattered by it. I happened to come into

his room while he was reading this letter, which he had just

received, and which he immediately showed me. I told him, that

though I was sensible how very much he was weakened, and that

appearances were in many respects very bad, yet his

cheerfulness was still so great, the spirit of life seemed

still to be so very strong in him, that I could not help

entertaining some faint hopes. He answered, "Your hopes are

groundless. An habitual diarrhœa of more than a year's

standing, would be a very bad disease at any age: at my age it

is a mortal one. When I lie down in the evening, I feel myself

weaker than when I rose in the morning; and when I rise in the

morning, weaker than when I lay down in the evening. I am

sensible, besides, that some of my vital parts are affected,

so that I must soon die." "Well," said I, "if it must be so,

you have at least the satisfaction of leaving all your

friends, your brother's family in particular, in great

prosperity." He said that he felt that satisfaction so

sensibly, that when he was reading, a few days before,

Lucian's Dialogues of the Dead, among all the excuses which

are alleged to Charon for not entering readily into his boat,

he could not find one that fitted him; he had no house to

finish, he had no daughter to provide for, he had no enemies

upon whom he wished to revenge himself. "I could not well

imagine," said he, "what excuse I could make to Charon in

order to obtain a little delay. I have done every thing of

consequence which I ever meant to do; and I could at no time

expect to leave my relations and friends in a better situation

than that in which I am now likely to leave them. I therefore

have all reason to die contented." He then diverted himself

with inventing several jocular excuses, which he supposed he

might make to Charon, and with imagining the very surly

answers which it might suit the character of Charon to return

to them. "Upon further consideration," said he, "I thought I

might say to him, 'Good Charon, I have been correcting my

works for a new edition. Allow me a little time, that I may

see how the public receives the alterations.' But Charon would

answer, 'When you have seen the effect of these, you will be

for making other alterations. There will be no end of such

excuses; so, honest friend, please step into the boat.' But I

might still urge, 'Have a little patience, good Charon; I have

been endeavouring to open the eyes of the public. If I live a

few years longer, I may have the satisfaction of seeing the

downfal of some of the prevailing systems of superstition.'

But Charon would then lose all temper and decency. 'You

loitering rogue, that will not happen these many hundred

years. Do you fancy I will grant you a lease for so long a

term? Get into the boat this instant, you lazy loitering

rogue.'"

But, though Mr. Hume always talked of his approaching

dissolution with great cheerfulness, he never affected to make

any parade of his magnanimity. He never mentioned the subject

but when the conversation naturally led to it, and never dwelt

longer upon it than the course of the conversation happened to

require.[512:1]

How much his mind continued to be occupied with all that it had taken

interest in, in the days of his health and enjoyment, the following

letter, written five days before his death, will show:--

HUME _to the_ COMTESSE DE BOUFFLERS.

"_Edinburgh, 20th of August, 1776._

"THOUGH I am certainly within a few weeks, dear madam, and, perhaps,

within a few days of my own death, I could not forbear being struck with

the death of the Prince of Conti--so great a loss in every particular.

My reflection carried me immediately to your situation in this

melancholy incident. What a difference to you in your whole plan of

life! Pray write me some particulars; but in such terms that you need

not care, in case of decease, into whose hands your letter may fall.

"My distemper is a diarrhœa, or disorder in my bowels, which has been

gradually undermining me these two years; but, within these six months,

has been visibly hastening me to my end. I see death approach

gradually, without any anxiety or regret. I salute you, with great

affection and regard, for the last time."[514:1]

Smith, proceeding with his narrative, says, "He had now become so very

weak, that the company of his most intimate friends fatigued him; for

his cheerfulness was still so great, his complaisance and social

disposition were still so entire, that when any friend was with him, he

could not help talking more, and with greater exertion, than suited the

weakness of his body. At his own desire, therefore, I agreed to leave

Edinburgh, where I was staying, partly upon his account, and returned to

my mother's house here, at Kirkaldy, upon condition that he would send

for me whenever he wished to see me; the physician who saw him most

frequently, Dr. Black, undertaking, in the mean time, to write me,

occasionally, an account of the state of his health.

"On the 22d of August, the Doctor wrote me the following letter:--

"'Since my last, Mr. Hume has passed his time pretty easily, but is much

weaker. He sits up, goes down stairs once a-day, and amuses himself with

reading, but seldom sees any body. He finds that even the conversation

of his most intimate friends fatigues and oppresses him; and it is happy

that he does not need it, for he is quite free from anxiety, impatience,

or low spirits, and passes his time very well with the assistance of

amusing books.'

"I received, the day after, a letter from Mr. Hume himself, of which the

following is an extract.

'_Edinburgh 23d August, 1776._

'MY DEAREST FRIEND,--I am obliged to make use of my nephew's hand in

writing to you, as I do not rise to-day. . . . . . . .

'I go very fast to decline, and last night had a small fever, which I

hoped might put a quicker period to this tedious illness; but,

unluckily, it has, in a great measure, gone off. I cannot submit to your

coming over here on my account, as it is possible for me to see you so

small a part of the day; but Doctor Black can better inform you

concerning the degree of strength which may, from time to time, remain

with me. Adieu,' &c.[515:1]

"Three days after I received the following letter from Doctor Black:--

'_Edinburgh, Monday, 26th August, 1776._

'DEAR SIR,--Yesterday, about four o'clock, afternoon, Mr. Hume

expired. The near approach of his death became evident in the

night between Thursday and Friday, when his disease became

excessive, and soon weakened him so much that he could no

longer rise out of his bed. He continued, to the last,

perfectly sensible, and free from much pain or feelings of

distress. He never dropped the smallest expression of

impatience; but, when he had occasion to speak to the people

about him, always did it with affection and tenderness. I

thought it improper to write to you to bring you over,

especially as I heard that he had dictated a letter to you

desiring you not to come. When he became very weak, it cost

him an effort to speak; and he died in such a happy composure

of mind that nothing could exceed it.'"

The world is fortunately in possession of an account of this event, by

another scientific man of no less eminence, the great Dr. Cullen. From a

letter which he wrote to Dr. Hunter, on 17th September, the following

extracts are made:

You desire an account of Mr. Hume's last days, and I give it

you with some pleasure; for, though I could not look upon him

in his illness without much concern, yet the tranquillity and

pleasantry which he constantly discovered did, even then, give

me satisfaction; and, now that the curtain is dropped, allows

me indulge the less alloyed reflection. It was truly an

example "des grands hommes qui sont morts en

plaisantant;"[516:1] and to me, who have been so often shocked

with the horrors of the superstitious on such occasions, the

reflexion on such a death is truly agreeable. For many weeks

before his death, he was very sensible of his gradual decay;

and his answer to inquiries after his health was, several

times, that he was going as fast as his enemies could wish,

and as easily as his friends could desire. He was not,

however, without a frequent recurrence of pain and uneasiness;

but he passed most part of the day in his drawing-room,

admitted the visits of his friends, and with his usual spirit

conversed with them upon literature, politics, or whatever

else was accidentally started. In conversation he seemed to be

perfectly at ease, and to the last abounded with that

pleasantry, and those curious and entertaining anecdotes,

which ever distinguished him. This, however, I always

considered rather as an effort to be agreeable, and he at

length acknowledged that it became too much for his strength.

For a few days before his death, he became more averse to

receive visits; speaking became more and more difficult for

him; and, for twelve hours before his death, his speech failed

altogether. His senses and judgment did not fail till the last

hour of his life. He constantly discovered a strong

sensibility to the attention and care of his friends, and,

amidst great uneasiness and languor, never betrayed any

peevishness or impatience. . . . . .[516:2]

These are a few particulars, which may perhaps appear

trifling, but to me no particulars seem trifling that relate

to so great a man. It is perhaps from trifles that we can best

distinguish the tranquillity and cheerfulness of the

philosopher, at a time when the most part of mankind are under

disquiet, anxiety, and sometimes even horror. I consider the

sacrifice of the cock as a more certain evidence of the

tranquillity of Socrates, than his discourse on

immortality.[517:1]

The death and burial of so distinguished a fellow citizen, were

naturally the objects of much attention among the inhabitants of

Edinburgh. On the one hand his unpopular opinions; on the other, the

blameless character of his life and his great genius, excited

conflicting opinions, and these giving zest to public attention and

curiosity, attracted crowds to witness his funeral, and to look with

mingled feelings, on the spot where his remains were, by the injunctions

of his will, deposited.[517:2]

On the declivity of the Calton Hill there is an old grave-yard, which

seventy years ago was in the open country beyond the boundary of the

city of Edinburgh, and even at the present day, when it is the centre of

a wide circumference of streets and terraces, has an air of solitude,

from its elevated site, and the abrupt rocky banks that separate it from

the crowded thoroughfares. There, on a conspicuous point of rock,

beneath a circular monument built after the simple and solemn fashion of

the old Roman tombs, lies the dust of David Hume. Whither the immortal

spirit that gave life to it is gone, let no man too presumptuously

pronounce; but let us rather contemplate with respectful awe, that

unseen essence which the Deity had imbued with so great a power over the

intellects of men, and believe that this wide sway over the destinies of

the human species had its own wise and beneficent design, and was no

produce of malign influences or untoward accidents. Fallacies may be the

brilliant insects of a day, but truth is eternal; and when the searcher

in philosophy groping amid the darkness of man's imperfect reason,

produces falsehoods, they are speedily forgotten; but if he develop

great truths, they live to bless his species for ever. There are few who

will now deny that mankind have learned many valuable truths of David

Hume. The wide influence of his mind over thought and action, during the

last hundred years, is expressed in the mere naming of the systems of

which he was the author or suggester.

His Metaphysical labours gave birth to two great schools of philosophy.

The one rising at his own door, endeavoured by powerful and earnest

efforts to reconstruct in a more rational and substantial form the old

system which he had sapped--the other in a distant land, where new

lights of science had begun to burn, sought to raise mental philosophy

from its original elements, purified of the dross and rubbish that had

rendered the old materials cumbrous and unsafe, and to endow the whole

with fresh life and a new form and structure.[519:1]

In Ethics he was the first to make an Utilitarian morality assume the

aspect of a theoretical system, which it was the task of a great

successor, aided by subordinate labourers, to apply to the practical

operations of mankind, and to spread widely over the earth.

In History he was the first to divert attention from wars, treaties, and

successions, to the living progress of the people, in all that increases

their civilization and their happiness. The example thus set has been

the chief service of the "History of England;" yet, with all the faults

of its matter, its purely literary merits have been so great, that, as a

classical and popular work, it has hitherto encountered no rival.[519:2]

But his triumphs in Political Economy are those which, in the present

day, stand forth with the greatest prominence and lustre. In no long

time, a hundred years will have elapsed from the day when Hume told the

world, what the legislature of this country is now declaring, that

national exclusiveness in trade was as foolish as it was wicked; that no

nation could profit by stopping the natural flood of commerce between

itself and the rest of the world; that commercial restrictions deprive

the nations of the earth "_of that free communication and exchange,

which the author of the world has intended by giving them soils,

climates, and geniuses, so different from each other_;" and that, like

the healthy circulation of the blood in living bodies, Free Trade is the

vital principle by which the nations of the earth are to become united

in one harmonious whole.[520:1] Those who, with a reverential eye, have

marked the wonders of the animal structure, and discovered beauty,

utility, and harmonious purpose, where presumptuous ignorance has found

uselessness or deformity; or have seen the lower animals, each working

in its own blind ignorance, gregariously constructing a fabric more

perfect, on philosophical principles, than human science can

create,--have thence drawn vivid pictures of the wisdom and goodness

with which the world is ordered. May we not extend this harmony to the

social economy of the globe, and say, that the spirit of activity and

enterprise, harmonizing with the dispersal of the different bounties of

Providence in the distant regions of the globe, are part of the same

harmonious system; that the love of commerce and the desire of

aggrandisement, which in the eye of a narrow philosophy assume the air

of selfish and repulsive passions, represent themselves, when they are

left to their legitimate course, as motives implanted in us for the

great purposes of securing mutual dependance and kind offices, and their

fruits, peace and good-will, throughout the great family of mankind. To

be the first to teach that the earth is not doomed to the eternal curse

of rivalry and strife, and to open up so wide a prospect of beneficence,

may be an atonement for many errors, and in the eye of good taste may

justify the brief assumption of conscious superiority, in which the

subject of this memoir indulged, when he desired that the inscription on

his monument should contain only his name, with the year of his birth

and of his death. _Leaving it to posterity to add the rest._

FOOTNOTES:

[439:1] Account of Home, p. 20.

[441:1] It has been said that, having once given a guinea by mistake to

a beggar, the man, who was a respectable member of his trade, returned

and explained the mistake. He was permitted to keep the coin, the

philosopher observing, "Oh, Honesty--how poor a dwelling-place hast thou

found!"

[444:1] Account of John Home, p. 20-21.

[445:1] See, on this amusement of character drawing, vol. i. p. 226.

[446:1] Lives of the Lindsays. By Lord Lindsay. Vol. ii. p. 183.

[449:1] Among the traditional anecdotes of his habits, one is, that

going to sup with Mrs. Cockburn, and not arriving until after the choice

of the good things had been consumed, when some effort was made to cater

for him, he said, "Trouble yourself very little about what you have, or

how it appears; you know I am no epicure, but only a glutton." Mr.

Chambers says, (Scottish Jests, p. 171,) that he took down this anecdote

from one who was present.

These literary parties at Mrs. Cockburn's, appear to have been frequent

and agreeable. A gentleman still living, was present at many of them

when a youth, and particularly recollects one occasion when a tipsy

relative of that lady chose to lock the door of the room where the

walking habiliments of the guests were preserved. A general borrowing of

articles of clothing from surrounding neighbours took place, and those

which fell to Hume's lot, happened to produce a peculiarly ludicrous

effect.

[450:1] It is given without reference to authority, in Prior's Life of

Burke, vol. i. p. 98.

[450:2] In one instance, a vivid recollection was preserved of the

difficulty, from his fatness, of getting sufficient room on his knee,

and the necessity of keeping fast hold of the corner of his laced

waistcoat.

[452:1] He seems, from this and other notices, to have been occasionally

absent in his habits; but there is no such collection of practical

illustrations of this failing, as we possess in the case of Smith and

others. I only remember having heard of one trifling instance, of which

I had an account from an eye-witness. Hume had been dining with Dr.

Jardine, and there had been much conversation about "internal light." In

descending the stair leading from the Doctor's "flat," when he left the

party, Hume failed to observe that after so many flights which reached

the street door, there was, according to a not uncommon practice,

another flight of stairs leading to the cellars. He continued his

descent, accordingly, till the very end, where some time afterwards he

was found in extreme darkness and perplexity, wondering how it was that

he could find no outlet. The circumstance bore rather curiously on some

opinions he had been maintaining, and Jardine said, shaking his head,

"Oh David! where is your internal light?"

[452:2] Diary of a Lover of Literature.--_Gentleman's Magazine_, N.S. i.

142.

[455:1] The passage here omitted will be found above, vol. i. p. 97.

[455:2] MS. R.S.E. In citing this letter above, vol. i. p. 98, it is

stated that on one MS. there is noted a supposition that it was

addressed to Dr. Traill--on another that it was addressed to Gilbert

Stuart. I now think it must have been addressed to Dr. John Stewart,

Professor of Natural Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, and that

it related to his "Remarks on the Laws of Motion and the Inertion of

Matter," published in "Essays and Observations physical and literary,

read before a Society in Edinburgh."

[457:1] Minute-book of The Poker Club, in possession of Sir Adam

Ferguson.

[459:1] MS. R.S.E.

[461:1] MS. R.S.E.

[461:2] MS. R.S.E.

[461:3] Of the East India Company's service, author of "The History of

Hindostan, translated from the Persian," 1803.

[462:1] _Edinburgh Monthly Magazine_, Sept. 1810.

[465:1] See above, p. 220.

[465:2] _Edinburgh Magazine_, 1788, p. 340.

[466:1] MS. R.S.E.

[467:1] MS. R.S.E.

[467:2] Memoirs of Great Britain and Ireland, from the dissolution of

the last parliament of Charles II. until the sea battle of La Hogue, 3

vols. 4to.

[467:3] MS. R.S.E.

[468:1] William Smellie, the respectable printer of the Magazine, seems

to have led an uneasy life, between the quarrels and the dissipation of

his editor, of which he has left some picturesque memorials. Having come

one night to Smellie's house on magazine business in a very advanced

stage of intoxication, Stuart was charitably put to bed. Roused in the

middle of the night by an immense outcry from the awakened editor,

Smellie rushed to the bedroom in his night clothes. Stuart sitting up in

bed and glaring around him, immediately associated the respectable

printer's presence with the places in which he was himself accustomed to

waken, and said,--"Smellie, I never expected to find _you_ in such a

place: put on your clothes, and go back to your wife and family, I shall

never say a word about this." A journey of six miles, from Edinburgh to

Musselburgh, made by Stuart and some of his companions, in which, by

reason of the abundance of good cheer on the way, they occupied several

days, seems to have been fruitful in adventures. One of the party

falling asleep among the ashes of a steam engine, wakened in the night,

and found himself in the presence of a great red furnace, surrounded by

dusky figures clanging bolts and chains. Associating the exhibition with

the course of life he had been running, and its probable reward, he was

heard to exclaim, "Good God, is it come to this at last!"--See _Kerr's

Memoirs of Smellie_.

[470:1] D'Israeli's Calamities of Authors, ii. 67. The letter, after

such exhortations as the following,--"Strike by all means: the wretch

will tremble, grow pale, and return with a consciousness of his

debility," winds up with the assurance, "When you have an enemy to

attack, I shall in return give my best assistance, and aim at him a

mortal blow, and rush forward to his overthrow, though the flames of

hell should start up to oppose me."

[470:2] The _proof_, with Hume's corrections, is in the possession of

John Christison, Esq., who has kindly allowed me to make this use of it.

The last paragraph is a manuscript addition made in correcting the

proof. The substance of Hume's praise was probably given to Henry in

some other form; for a portion of the analytical part of the review is

printed in a memoir of Henry, in _The Gentleman's Magazine_, (vol. lxxi.

p. 907,) as written by "one of the most eminent historians of the

present age, whose history of the same period possesses the highest

reputation."

[471:1] Madame Geoffrin, in writing to Hume, notices Franklin's

imperfect acquaintance with the French language; this must have been one

of the difficulties which his matchless perseverance conquered.

I may mention that, aware that Hume had written to Franklin, I thought

it not unlikely that the letters might be incorporated in the elaborate

edition of his "Life and Correspondence" by Sparkes. Unfortunately

trusting to the copy in the British Museum, I found, at the last moment,

that that copy was imperfect, and did not afford the means of

ascertaining whether they were published in the work.

[471:2] MS. R.S.E.

[472:1] A specimen of the _Scots Review_, a thin duodecimo pamphlet, is

now very rare. Its chief object of attention is "that great necromancer

and magician David Hume." It is not inaptly described by the _Scots

Magazine_:--

"It professes to give a prospectus, and a specimen of an intended new

review; but the whole object seems to have been to laugh at some

individuals obnoxious to the writer, and particularly to ridicule the

virulence, and to lower the pretensions of those who had signalized

themselves by their attacks upon the philosophical writings of Mr. Hume;

a promise is held out, that this arch-infidel is himself to be reviewed

in the first place; and next, those authors who have waged a holy war

against him; of whom a list is given, with their characters, the

delineation of which, in no very favourable colours, appears, as already

mentioned, to have exhausted the main object of the piece, though one or

two gentle hits are aimed at the historian himself."

[472:2] Rev. Thomas Hepburn, minister of Athelstaneford.

[472:3] _Scots Mag._ New Series. Vol. i.

[473:1] Original in possession of the Cambusmore family.

[474:1] MS. R.S.E.

[474:2] Addressed, "Mr. David Hume, at Ninewells, with a great coat."

[474:3] Professor Millar of Glasgow.

[475:1] MS. R.S.E.

[476:1] Mackenzie's account of Home, p. 158.

[477:1] MS. R.S.E.

[477:2] Strahan's letters were carefully preserved by Hume. On

application to those who would be likely to possess Hume's side of the

correspondence, if it existed, I was informed that it was Mr. Strahan's

practice to destroy all the letters addressed to him; but I was very

politely favoured with a copy of one of his own letters, which Mr.

Strahan had preserved.

[478:1] MS. R.S.E.

[479:1] _Lit. Gazette_, 1822, p. 637. Corrected from original MS. R.S.E.

[482:1] MS. R.S.E. Addressed, "Mr. David Hume, at Mr. Professor

Millar's, at Glasgow." The blanks are caused by a stripe having been

torn off the side of the letter.

[483:1] Mackenzie's Account of Home, p. 160.

[484:1] MS. R.S.E.

[485:1] Life of Gibbon.

[486:1] From this it would appear that Hume had opened up in his own

mind, the theory of rent, afterwards successively suggested by Dr.

Anderson and Ricardo, without the latter, it is believed, knowing that

he had been anticipated by the author of the _Bee_.

[487:1] MS. R.S.E.

[488:1] The letter is of such a character, as one medical man might be

supposed to write to another. Black was no pedant, and he writes as if

his correspondent knew the technicalities of the science in their full

practical meaning,--an addition to the many illustrations of the varied

range of scientific knowledge, at the command of the master of political

economy.

[489:1] The following provision is in a codicil: "I also leave for

rebuilding the bridge of Churnside the sum of a hundred pounds; but on

condition that the manager of the bridge shall take none of the stones

for building the bridge from the quarry of Ninewells, except from that

part of the quarry which has been already opened." With reference to

this, Dr. Cullen, in the letter cited, p. 516, says, "In the

neighbourhood of his brother's house, in Berwickshire, is a brook, by

which the access in time of floods is frequently interrupted. Mr. Hume

bequeaths £100 for building a bridge over this brook, but upon the

express condition that none of the stones for that purpose shall be

taken from a quarry in the neighbourhood, which forms part of a romantic

scene, in which, in his earlier days, Mr. Hume took particular delight."

This is the only authenticated instance that I remember to have met with

of Hume's attachment to local scenery. It is a tradition in Edinburgh,

that he was fond of walking along the base of Salisbury Crags.

[490:1] In 1773, Smith, apparently in bad health, wrote to Hume,

desiring him to take charge of his manuscripts in case of his own

predecease, (MS. R.S.E.) This, and some other letters by Smith, I might

have been tempted to print in this work, had I not the satisfaction of

knowing that they are likely soon to be published under the auspices of

Lord Brougham.

[490:2] MS. R.S.E.

[492:1] MS. R.S.E.

[493:1] MS. R.S.E.

[494:1] MS. R.S.E.

[494:2] MS. R.S.E.

[495:1] In the Appendix to Mackenzie's Account of the Life of Home.

[497:1] It is curious to observe, that the object of this united

prediction was that same Loménie de Brienne, who was put at the head of

affairs before the outbreak of the revolution, and who left behind him

so undisputed a character of utter incapacity to be a statesman in

difficult times.

[499:1] Probably M. Trudaine de Montigny, frequently mentioned above,

whose son translated Hume's "Natural History of Religion." See above, p.

167.

[499:2] This anecdote is told nearly in the same words, in one of

Walpole's posthumous works. Memoirs of George III. vol. ii. p. 240.

[504:1] αιμα.

[505:1] This paragraph is printed by Mackenzie.

[506:1] MS. R.S.E.

[506:2] MS. R.S.E.

[506:3] David Hume, as many of his letters must have shown, persisted in

spelling his friend's name thus. To commemorate this dispute, and Home's

dislike of port wine, he added this codicil to his will on 7th August:--

"I leave to my friend Mr. John Home of Kilduff, ten dozen of my old

claret, at his choice; and one single bottle of that other liquor called

port. I also leave to him six dozen of port, provided that he attests

under his hand, signed John _Hume_, that he has himself alone finished

that bottle at two sittings. By this concession, he will at once

terminate the only two differences that ever arose between us concerning

temporal matters." The original is in the MSS. R.S.E.

[507:1] Subjoined to the card, there is this note in Dr. Blair's

handwriting:--"_Mem._--This the last note received from Mr. David Hume.

He died on the 25th of August, 1776."--_Mackenzie's Account of Home._

[508:1] His nephew, Joseph, had just returned from abroad in very bad

health.

[508:2] Colonel Edmondstoune was a member of what was called the Ruffian

Club; men whose hearts were milder than their manners, and their

principles more correct than their habits of life. _Mackenzie._

[508:3] Mackenzie's Account of Home. On the 13th he wrote thus to his

brother:--

"DEAR BROTHER,--Dr. Black tells me plainly, like a man of sense, that I

shall die soon, which was no disagreeable news to me. He says I shall

die of weakness and inanition, and perhaps give little or no warning.

But though I be growing sensibly weaker every day, this period seems not

to be approaching; and I shall have time enough to inform you, and to

desire your company, which will be very agreeable to me. But at this

time your presence is necessary at Ninewells, to settle Josey, and

comfort his mother. Davie will be also very useful with you. I am much

pleased with his tenderness and friendship. I beg, therefore, that

neither you nor he may set out; and as the communication between us is

open and frequent, I promise to give you timely information."--_Lit.

Gaz._ 1822, p. 746. MS. R.S.E.

[509:1] MS. R.S.E.

[510:1] Colonel Edmondstoune's letter has been preserved, and is as

follows:--

"_Linlithgow, Wednesday._

"MY DEAR, DEAR DAVID,--My heart is very full. I could not see

you this morning. I thought it was better for us both. You

can't die, you must live in the memory of all your friends and

acquaintances, and your works will render you immortal. I

could never conceive that it was possible for any one to

dislike you or hate you. He must be more than savage who could

be an enemy to a man of the best head and heart, and of the

most amiable manners.

O toi, qui de mon ame es la chère moitié;

Toi, qui joins la délicatesse

Des sentimens d'une maitresse

À la solidité d'une sure amitié,

_David_, il faut bien-tôt que la parque cruelle

Vienne rompre des si doux noeuds,

Et malgré nos cris et nos voeux

Bien-tôt nous assuirons une absence eternelle.

Adieu! adieu!"--MS. R.S.E.

[512:1] It is from more, perhaps, than the mere force of contrast,

that, after reading this account of the manner in which the dying

philosopher's thoughts were occupied,--the spelling of the family name,

the imagined interview with Charon, &c. the following letter, addressed

to him by a distant friend, possesses a peculiarly solemn interest.

WILLIAM STRAHAN _to_ HUME.

"MY DEAR SIR,--Last Friday I received your affectionate

farewell, and therefore melancholy letter, which disabled me

from sending an immediate answer to it, as I now do, in hopes

this may yet find you, not much oppressed with pain, in the

land of the living. I need not tell you, that your corrections

are all duly attended to, as every particular shall be that

you desire or order. Nor shall I now trouble you with a long

letter.

"Only permit me to ask you a question or two, to which I am

prompted, you will believe me, not from a foolish or fruitless

curiosity, but from an earnest desire to learn the sentiments

of a man, who had spent a long life in philosophic inquiries,

and who, upon the extreme verge of it, seems, even in that

awful and critical period, to possess all the powers of his

mind in their full vigour, and in unabated tranquillity.

"I am more particularly led to give you this trouble, from a

passage in one of your late letters, wherein you say, _It is

an idle thing in us to be concerned about any thing that shall

happen after our death; yet this_, you added, _is natural to

all men_. Now I would eagerly ask, if it is _natural to all

men_, to be interested in futurity, does not this strongly

indicate that our existence will be protracted beyond this

life?

"Do you _now_ believe, or suspect, that all the powers and

faculties of your own mind, which you have cultivated with so

much care and success, will cease and be extinguished with

your vital breath?

"Our soul, or immaterial part of us, some say, is able, when

on the brink of dissolution, to take a glimpse of futurity;

and for that reason I earnestly wish to have your _last

thoughts_ on this important subject.

"I know you will kindly excuse this singular application; and

believe that I wish you, living or dying, every happiness that

our nature is capable of enjoying, either here or hereafter;

being, with the most sincere esteem and affection, my dear

sir, faithfully yours."--MS. R.S.E.

"London, _August 19, 1776_."