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English Men of Letters
EDITED BY JOHN MORLEY
HUME
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
HUME
BY
PROFESSOR HUXLEY
London
MACMILLAN AND CO
1879
_The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved_
LONDON:
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR,
BREAD STREET HILL.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
_PART I.--HUME'S LIFE._
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
EARLY LIFE: LITERARY AND POLITICAL WRITINGS 1
CHAPTER II.
LATER YEARS: THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND 26
_PART II.--HUME'S PHILOSOPHY._
CHAPTER I.
THE OBJECT AND SCOPE OF PHILOSOPHY 48
CHAPTER II.
THE CONTENTS OF THE MIND 60
CHAPTER III.
THE ORIGIN OF THE IMPRESSIONS. 74
CHAPTER IV.
THE CLASSIFICATION AND THE NOMENCLATURE OF MENTAL
OPERATIONS 89
CHAPTER V.
THE MENTAL PHENOMENA OF ANIMALS 103
CHAPTER VI.
LANGUAGE--PROPOSITIONS CONCERNING NECESSARY TRUTHS 114
CHAPTER VII.
THE ORDER OF NATURE: MIRACLES 129
CHAPTER VIII.
THEISM: EVOLUTION OF THEOLOGY 140
CHAPTER IX.
THE SOUL: THE DOCTRINE OF IMMORTALITY 165
CHAPTER X.
VOLITION: LIBERTY AND NECESSITY 183
CHAPTER XI.
THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS 197
* * * * *
HUME.
PART I.
_HUME'S LIFE._
CHAPTER I.
EARLY LIFE: LITERARY AND POLITICAL WRITINGS.
David Hume was born, in Edinburgh on the 26th of April (O.S.), 1711. His
parents were then residing in the parish of the Tron church, apparently
on a visit to the Scottish capital, as the small estate which his father
Joseph Hume, or Home, inherited, lay in Berwickshire, on the banks of
the Whitadder or Whitewater, a few miles from the border, and within
sight of English ground. The paternal mansion was little more than a
very modest farmhouse,[1] and the property derived its name of
Ninewells from a considerable spring, which breaks out on the slope in
front of the house, and falls into the Whitadder.
Both mother and father came of good Scottish families--the paternal line
running back to Lord Home of Douglas, who went over to France with the
Douglas during the French wars of Henry V. and VI. and was killed at the
battle of Verneuil. Joseph Hume died when David was an infant, leaving
himself and two elder children, a brother and a sister, to the care of
their mother, who is described by David Hume in _My Own Life_ as "a
woman of singular merit, who though young and handsome devoted herself
entirely to the rearing and education of her children." Mr. Burton says:
"Her portrait, which I have seen, represents a thin but pleasing
countenance, expressive of great intellectual acuteness;" and as Hume
told Dr. Black that she had "precisely the same constitution with
himself" and died of the disorder which proved fatal to him, it is
probable that the qualities inherited from his mother had much to do
with the future philosopher's eminence. It is curious, however, that her
estimate of her son in her only recorded, and perhaps slightly
apocryphal utterance, is of a somewhat unexpected character. "Our
Davie's a fine goodnatured crater, but uncommon wake-minded." The first
part of the judgment was indeed verified by "Davie's" whole life; but
one might seek in vain for signs of what is commonly understood as
"weakness of mind" in a man who not only showed himself to be an
intellectual athlete, but who had an eminent share of practical wisdom
and tenacity of purpose. One would like to know, however, when it was
that Mrs. Hume committed herself to this not too flattering judgment of
her younger son. For as Hume reached the mature age of four and thirty,
before he obtained any employment of sufficient importance to convert
the meagre pittance of a middling laird's younger brother into a decent
maintenance, it is not improbable that a shrewd Scots wife may have
thought his devotion to philosophy and poverty to be due to mere
infirmity of purpose. But she lived till 1749, long enough to see more
than the dawn of her son's literary fame and official importance, and
probably changed her mind about "Davie's" force of character.
David Hume appears to have owed little to schools or universities. There
is some evidence that he entered the Greek class in the University of
Edinburgh in 1723--when he was a boy of twelve years of age--but it is
not known how long his studies were continued, and he did not graduate.
In 1727, at any rate, he was living at Ninewells, and already possessed
by that love of learning and thirst for literary fame, which, as _My Own
Life_ tells us, was the ruling passion of his life and the chief source
of his enjoyments. A letter of this date, addressed to his friend
Michael Ramsay, is certainly a most singular production for a boy of
sixteen. After sundry quotations from Virgil the letter proceeds:--
"The perfectly wise man that outbraves fortune, is much greater
than the husbandman who slips by her; and, indeed, this pastoral
and saturnian happiness I have in a great measure come at just now.
I live like a king, pretty much by myself, neither full of action
nor perturbation--_molles somnos_. This state, however, I can
foresee is not to be relied on. My peace of mind is not
sufficiently confirmed by philosophy to withstand the blows of
fortune. This greatness and elevation of soul is to be found only
in study and contemplation. This alone can teach us to look down on
human accidents. You must allow [me] to talk thus like a
philosopher: 'tis a subject I think much on, and could talk all day
long of."
If David talked in this strain to his mother her tongue probably gave
utterance to "Bless the bairn!" and, in her private soul, the epithet
"wake-minded" may then have recorded itself. But, though few lonely,
thoughtful, studious boys of sixteen give vent to their thoughts in such
stately periods, it is probable that the brooding over an ideal is
commoner at this age, than fathers and mothers, busy with the cares of
practical life, are apt to imagine.
About a year later, Hume's family tried to launch him into the
profession of the law; but, as he tells us, "while they fancied I was
poring upon Voet and Vinnius, Cicero and Virgil were the authors which I
was secretly devouring," and the attempt seems to have come to an abrupt
termination. Nevertheless, as a very competent authority[2] wisely
remarks:--
"There appear to have been in Hume all the elements of which a good
lawyer is made: clearness of judgment, power of rapidly acquiring
knowledge, untiring industry, and dialectic skill: and if his mind
had not been preoccupied, he might have fallen into the gulf in
which many of the world's greatest geniuses lie
buried--professional eminence; and might have left behind him a
reputation limited to the traditional recollections of the
Parliament house, or associated with important decisions. He was
through life an able, clear-headed, man of business, and I have
seen several legal documents, written in his own hand and evidently
drawn by himself. They stand the test of general professional
observation; and their writer, by preparing documents of facts of
such a character on his own responsibility, showed that he had
considerable confidence in his ability to adhere to the forms
adequate for the occasion. He talked of it as 'an ancient prejudice
industriously propagated by the dunces in all countries, that _a
man of genius is unfit for business_,' and he showed, in his
general conduct through life, that he did not choose to come
voluntarily under this proscription."
Six years longer Hume remained at Ninewells before he made another
attempt to embark in a practical career--this time commerce--and with a
like result. For a few months' trial proved that kind of life, also, to
be hopelessly against the grain.
It was while in London, on his way to Bristol, where he proposed to
commence his mercantile life, that Hume addressed to some eminent London
physician (probably, as Mr. Burton suggests, Dr. George Cheyne) a
remarkable letter. Whether it was ever sent seems doubtful; but it shows
that philosophers as well as poets have their Werterian crises, and it
presents an interesting parallel to John Stuart Mill's record of the
corresponding period of his youth. The letter is too long to be given in
full, but a few quotations may suffice to indicate its importance to
those who desire to comprehend the man.
"You must know then that from my earliest infancy I found always a
strong inclination to books and letters. As our college education
in Scotland, extending little further than the languages, ends
commonly when we are about fourteen or fifteen years of age, I was
after that left to my own choice in my reading, and found it
incline me almost equally to books of reasoning and philosophy, and
to poetry and the polite authors. Every one who is acquainted
either with the philosophers or critics, knows that there is
nothing yet established in either of these two sciences, and that
they contain little more than endless disputes, even in the most
fundamental articles. Upon examination of these, I found a certain
boldness of temper growing on me, which was not inclined to submit
to any authority in these subjects, but led me to seek out some new
medium, by which truth might be established. After much study and
reflection on this, at last, when I was about eighteen years of
age, there seemed to be opened up to me a new scene of thought,
which transported me beyond measure, and made me, with an ardour
natural to young men, throw up every other pleasure or business to
apply entirely to it. The law, which was the business I designed to
follow, appeared nauseous to me, and I could think of no other way
of pushing my fortune in the world, but that of a scholar and
philosopher. I was infinitely happy in this course of life for some
months; till at last, about the beginning of September, 1729, all
my ardour seemed in a moment to be extinguished, and I could no
longer raise my mind to that pitch, which formerly gave me such
excessive pleasure."
This "decline of soul" Hume attributes, in part, to his being smitten
with the beautiful representations of virtue in the works of Cicero,
Seneca, and Plutarch, and being thereby led to discipline his temper and
his will along with his reason and understanding.
"I was continually fortifying myself with reflections against
death, and poverty, and shame, and pain, and all the other
calamities of life."
And he adds very characteristically:--
"These no doubt are exceeding useful when joined with an active
life, because the occasion being presented along with the
reflection, works it into the soul, and makes it take a deep
impression: but, in solitude, they serve to little other purpose
than to waste the spirits, the force of the mind meeting no
resistance, but wasting itself in the air, like our arm when it
misses its aim."
Along with all this mental perturbation, symptoms of scurvy, a disease
now almost unknown among landsmen, but which, in the days of winter salt
meat, before root crops flourished in the Lothians, greatly plagued our
forefathers, made their appearance. And, indeed, it may be suspected
that physical conditions were, at first, at the bottom of the whole
business; for, in 1731, a ravenous appetite set in and, in six weeks
from being tall, lean, and raw-boned, Hume says he became sturdy and
robust, with a ruddy complexion and a cheerful countenance--eating,
sleeping, and feeling well, except that the capacity for intense mental
application seemed to be gone. He, therefore, determined to seek out a
more active life; and, though he could not and would not "quit his
pretensions to learning, but with his last breath," he resolved "to lay
them aside for some time, in order the more effectually to resume them."
The careers open to a poor Scottish gentleman in those days were very
few; and, as Hume's option lay between a travelling tutorship and a
stool in a merchant's office, he chose the latter.
"And having got recommendation to a considerable trader in Bristol,
I am just now hastening thither, with a resolution to forget
myself, and everything that is past, to engage myself, as far as is
possible, in that course of life, and to toss about the world from
one pole to the other, till I leave this distemper behind me."[3]
But it was all of no use--Nature would have her way--and in the middle
of 1736, David Hume, aged twenty-three, without a profession or any
assured means of earning a guinea; and having doubtless, by his apparent
vacillation, but real tenacity of purpose, once more earned the title of
"wake-minded" at home; betook himself to a foreign country.
"I went over to France, with a view of prosecuting my studies in a
country retreat: and there I laid that plan of life which I have
steadily and successfully pursued. I resolved to make a very rigid
frugality supply my deficiency of fortune, to maintain unimpaired
my independency, and to regard every object as contemptible except
the improvement of my talents in literature."[4]
Hume passed through Paris on his way to Rheims, where he resided for
some time; though the greater part of his three years' stay was spent at
La Flêche, in frequent intercourse with the Jesuits of the famous
college in which Descartes was educated. Here he composed his first
work, the _Treatise of Human Nature_; though it would appear from the
following passage in the letter to Cheyne, that he had been accumulating
materials to that end for some years before he left Scotland.
"I found that the moral philosophy transmitted to us by antiquity
laboured under the same inconvenience that has been found in their
natural philosophy, of being entirely hypothetical, and depending
more upon invention than experience: every one consulted his fancy
in erecting schemes of virtue and happiness, without regarding
human nature, upon which every moral conclusion must depend."
This is the key-note of the _Treatise_; of which Hume himself says
apologetically, in one of his letters, that it was planned before he was
twenty-one and composed before he had reached the age of twenty-five.[5]
Under these circumstances, it is probably the most remarkable
philosophical work, both intrinsically and in its effects upon the
course of thought, that has ever been written. Berkeley, indeed,
published the _Essay Towards a New Theory of Vision_, the _Treatise
Concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge_, and the _Three
Dialogues_, between the ages of twenty-four and twenty-eight; and thus
comes very near to Hume, both in precocity and in influence; but his
investigations are more limited in their scope than those of his
Scottish contemporary.
The first and second volumes of the _Treatise_, containing Book I., "Of
the Understanding," and Book II., "Of the Passions," were published in
January, 1739.[6] The publisher gave fifty pounds for the copyright;
which is probably more than an unknown writer of twenty-seven years of
age would get for a similar work, at the present time. But, in other
respects, its success fell far short of Hume's expectations. In a letter
dated the 1st of June, 1739, he writes,--
"I am not much in the humour of such compositions at present,
having received news from London of the success of my _Philosophy_,
which is but indifferent, if I may judge by the sale of the book,
and if I may believe my bookseller."
This, however, indicates a very different reception from that which
Hume, looking through the inverted telescope of old age, ascribes to the
_Treatise_ in _My Own Life_.
"Never literary attempt was more unfortunate than my _Treatise of
Human Nature_. It fell _deadborn from the press_ without reaching
such a distinction as even to excite a murmur among the zealots."
As a matter of fact, it was fully, and, on the whole, respectfully and
appreciatively, reviewed in the _History of the Works of the Learned_
for November, 1739.[7] Whoever the reviewer may have been, he was a man
of discernment, for he says that the work bears "incontestable marks of
a great capacity, of a soaring genius, but young, and not yet thoroughly
practised;" and he adds, that we shall probably have reason to consider
"this, compared with the later productions, in the same light as we view
the juvenile works of a Milton, or the first manner of a Raphael or
other celebrated painter." In a letter to Hutcheson, Hume merely speaks
of this article as "somewhat abusive;" so that his vanity, being young
and callow, seems to have been correspondingly wide-mouthed and hard to
satiate.
It must be confessed that, on this occasion, no less than on that of his
other publications, Hume exhibits no small share of the craving after
mere notoriety and vulgar success, as distinct from the pardonable, if
not honourable, ambition for solid and enduring fame, which would have
harmonised better with his philosophy. Indeed, it appears to be by no
means improbable that this peculiarity of Hume's moral constitution was
the cause of his gradually forsaking philosophical studies, after the
publication of the third part (_On Morals_) of the _Treatise_, in 1740,
and turning to those political and historical topics which were likely
to yield, and did in fact yield, a much better return of that sort of
success which his soul loved. The _Philosophical Essays Concerning the
Human Understanding_, which afterwards became the _Inquiry_, is not much
more than an abridgment and recast, for popular use, of parts of the
_Treatise_, with the addition of the essays on Miracles and on
Necessity. In style, it exhibits a great improvement on the _Treatise_;
but the substance, if not deteriorated, is certainly not improved. Hume
does not really bring his mature powers to bear upon his early
speculations, in the later work. The crude fruits have not been ripened,
but they have been ruthlessly pruned away, along with the branches which
bore them. The result is a pretty shrub enough; but not the tree of
knowledge, with its roots firmly fixed in fact, its branches perennially
budding forth into new truths, which Hume might have reared. Perhaps,
after all, worthy Mrs. Hume was, in the highest sense, right. Davie was
"wake-minded," not to see that the world of philosophy was his to
overrun and subdue, if he would but persevere in the work he had begun.
But no--he must needs turn aside for "success": and verily he had his
reward; but not the crown he might have won.
In 1740, Hume seems to have made an acquaintance which rapidly ripened
into a life long friendship. Adam Smith was, at that time, a boy student
of seventeen at the University of Glasgow; and Hume sends a copy of the
_Treatise_ to "Mr. Smith," apparently on the recommendation of the
well-known Hutcheson, Professor of Moral Philosophy in the university.
It is a remarkable evidence of Adam Smith's early intellectual
development, that a youth of his age should be thought worthy of such a
present.
In 1741 Hume published anonymously, at Edinburgh, the first volume of
_Essays Moral and Political_, which was followed in 1742 by the second
volume.
These pieces are written in an admirable style and, though arranged
without apparent method, a system of political philosophy may be
gathered from their contents. Thus the third essay, _That Politics may
be reduced to a Science_, defends that thesis, and dwells on the
importance of forms of government.
"So great is the force of laws and of particular forms of
government, and so little dependence have they on the humours and
tempers of men, that consequences almost as general and certain may
sometimes be deduced from them as any which the mathematical
sciences afford us."--(III. 15.) (_See_ p. 45.)
Hume proceeds to exemplify the evils which inevitably flow from
universal suffrage, from aristocratic privilege, and from elective
monarchy, by historical examples, and concludes:--
"That an hereditary prince, a nobility without vassals, and a
people voting by their representatives, form the best monarchy,
aristocracy, and democracy."--(III. 18.)
If we reflect that the following passage of the same essay was written
nearly a century and a half ago, it would seem that whatever other
changes may have taken place, political warfare remains _in statu
quo_:--
"Those who either attack or defend a minister in such a government
as ours, where the utmost liberty is allowed, always carry matters
to an extreme, and exaggerate his merit or demerit with regard to
the public. His enemies are sure to charge him with the greatest
enormities, both in domestic and foreign management; and there is
no meanness or crime, of which, in their judgment, he is not
capable. Unnecessary wars, scandalous treaties, profusion of public
treasure, oppressive taxes, every kind of maladministration is
ascribed to him. To aggravate the charge, his pernicious conduct,
it is said, will extend its baneful influence even to posterity, by
undermining the best constitution in the world, and disordering
that wise system of laws, institutions, and customs, by which our
ancestors, during so many centuries, have been so happily governed.
He is not only a wicked minister in himself, but has removed every
security provided against wicked ministers for the future.
"On the other hand, the partisans of the minister make his
panegyric rise as high as the accusation against him, and celebrate
his wise, steady, and moderate conduct in every part of his
administration. The honour and interest of the nation supported
abroad, public credit maintained at home, persecution restrained,
faction subdued: the merit of all these blessings is ascribed
solely to the minister. At the same time, he crowns all his other
merits by a religious care of the best government in the world,
which he has preserved in all its parts, and has transmitted
entire, to be the happiness and security of the latest
posterity."--(III. 26.)
Hume sagely remarks that the panegyric and the accusation cannot both be
true; and, that what truth there may be in either, rather tends to show
that our much-vaunted constitution does not fulfil its chief object,
which is to provide a remedy against maladministration. And if it does
not--
"we are rather beholden to any minister who undermines it and
affords us the opportunity of erecting a better in its
place."--III. 28.
The fifth Essay discusses the _Origin of Government_:--
"Man, born in a family, is compelled to maintain society from
necessity, from natural inclination, and from habit. The same
creature, in his farther progress, is engaged to establish
political society, in order to administer justice, without which
there can be no peace among them, nor safety, nor mutual
intercourse. We are therefore to look upon all the vast apparatus
of our government, as having ultimately no other object or purpose
but the distribution of justice, or, in other words, the support of
the twelve judges. Kings and parliaments, fleets and armies,
officers of the court and revenue, ambassadors, ministers and privy
councillors, are all subordinate in the end to this part of
administration. Even the clergy, as their duty leads them to
inculcate morality, may justly be thought, so far as regards this
world, to have no other useful object of their institution."--(III.
37.)
The police theory of government has never been stated more tersely:
and, if there were only one state in the world; and if we could be
certain by intuition, or by the aid of revelation, that it is wrong for
society, as a corporate body, to do anything for the improvement of its
members and, thereby, indirectly support the twelve judges, no objection
could be raised to it.
Unfortunately the existence of rival or inimical nations furnishes
"kings and parliaments, fleets and armies," with a good deal of
occupation beyond the support of the twelve judges; and, though the
proposition that the State has no business to meddle with anything but
the administration of justice, seems sometimes to be regarded as an
axiom, it can hardly be said to be intuitively certain, inasmuch as a
great many people absolutely repudiate it; while, as yet, the attempt to
give it the authority of a revelation has not been made.
As Hume says with profound truth in the fourth essay, _On the First
Principles of Government_:--
"As force is always on the side of the governed, the governors have
nothing to support them but opinion. It is, therefore, on opinion
only that government is founded; and this maxim extends to the most
despotic and most military governments, as well as to the most free
and the most popular."--(III. 31.)
But if the whole fabric of social organisation rests on opinion, it may
surely be fairly argued that, in the interests of self-preservation, if
for no better reason, society has a right to see that the means of
forming just opinions are placed within the reach of every one of its
members; and, therefore, that due provision for education, at any rate,
is a right and, indeed, a duty, of the state.
The three opinions upon which all government, or the authority of the
few over the many, is founded, says Hume, are public interest, right to
power, and right to property. No government can permanently exist,
unless the majority of the citizens, who are the ultimate depositary of
Force, are convinced that it serves the general interest, that it has
lawful authority, and that it respects individual rights:--
"A government may endure for several ages, though the balance of
power and the balance of property do not coincide.... But where the
original constitution allows any share of power, though small, to
an order of men who possess a large share of property, it is easy
for them gradually to stretch their authority, and bring the
balance of power to coincide with that of property. This has been
the case with the House of Commons in England."--(III. 34.)
Hume then points out that, in his time, the authority of the Commons was
by no means equivalent to the property and power it represented, and
proceeds:--
"Were the members obliged to receive instructions from their
constituents, like the Dutch deputies, this would entirely alter
the case; and if such immense power and riches as those of all the
Commons of Great Britain, were brought into the scale, it is not
easy to conceive that the crown could either influence that
multitude of people, or withstand that balance of property. It is
true, the crown has great influence over the collective body in the
elections of members; but were this influence, which at present is
only exerted once in seven years, to be employed in bringing over
the people to every vote, it would soon be wasted, and no skill,
popularity, or revenue could support it. I must, therefore, be of
opinion that an alteration in this particular would introduce a
total alteration in our government, would soon reduce it to a pure
republic; and, perhaps, to a republic of no inconvenient
form."--(III. 35.)
Viewed by the light of subsequent events, this is surely a very
remarkable example of political sagacity. The members of the House of
Commons are not yet delegates; but, with the widening of the suffrage
and the rapidly increasing tendency to drill and organise the
electorate, and to exact definite pledges from candidates, they are
rapidly becoming, if not delegates, at least attorneys for committees of
electors. The same causes are constantly tending to exclude men, who
combine a keen sense of self-respect with large intellectual capacity,
from a position in which the one is as constantly offended, as the other
is neutralised. Notwithstanding the attempt of George the Third to
resuscitate the royal authority, Hume's foresight has been so completely
justified that no one now dreams of the crown exerting the slightest
influence upon elections.
In the seventh essay, Hume raises a very interesting discussion as to
the probable ultimate result of the forces which were at work in the
British Constitution in the first part of the eighteenth century:--
"There has been a sudden and sensible change in the opinions of
men, within these last fifty years, by the progress of learning and
of liberty. Most people in this island have divested themselves of
all superstitious reverence to names and authority; the clergy have
much lost their credit; their pretensions and doctrines have been
much ridiculed; and even religion can scarcely support itself in
the world. The mere name of _king_ commands little respect; and to
talk of a king as God's vicegerent on earth, or to give him any of
those magnificent titles which formerly dazzled mankind, would but
excite laughter in every one."--(III. 54.)
In fact, at the present day, the danger to monarchy in Britain would
appear to lie, not in increasing love for equality, for which, except as
regards the law, Englishmen have never cared, but rather entertain an
aversion; nor in any abstract democratic theories, upon which the mass
of Englishmen pour the contempt with which they view theories in
general; but in the constantly increasing tendency of monarchy to become
slightly absurd, from the ever-widening discrepancy between modern
political ideas and the theory of kingship. As Hume observes, even in
his time, people had left off making believe that a king was a different
species of man from, other men; and, since his day, more and more such
make-believes have become impossible; until the maintenance of kingship
in coming generations seems likely to depend, entirely, upon whether it
is the general opinion, that a hereditary president of our virtual
republic will serve the general interest better than an elective one or
not. The tendency of public feeling in this direction is patent, but it
does not follow that a republic is to be the final stage of our
government. In fact, Hume thinks not:--
"It is well known, that every government must come to a period, and
that death is unavoidable to the political, as well as to the
animal body. But, as one kind of death may be preferable to
another, it may be inquired, whether it be more desirable for the
British constitution to terminate in a popular government, or in an
absolute monarchy? Here, I would frankly declare, that though
liberty be preferable to slavery, in almost every case; yet I
should rather wish to see an absolute monarch than a republic in
this island. For let us consider what kind of republic we have
reason to expect. The question is not concerning any fine imaginary
republic of which a man forms a plan in his closet. There is no
doubt but a popular government may be imagined more perfect than
an absolute monarchy, or even than our present constitution. But
what reason have we to expect that any such government will ever be
established in Great Britain, upon the dissolution of our monarchy?
If any single person acquire power enough to take our constitution
to pieces, and put it up anew, he is really an absolute monarch;
and we have already had an instance of this kind, sufficient to
convince us, that such a person will never resign his power, or
establish any free government. Matters, therefore, must be trusted
to their natural progress and operation; and the House of Commons,
according to its present constitution, must be the only legislature
in such a popular government. The inconveniences attending such a
situation of affairs present themselves by thousands. If the House
of Commons, in such a case, ever dissolve itself, which is not to
be expected, we may look for a civil war every election. If it
continue itself, we shall suffer all the tyranny of a faction
subdivided into new factions. And, as such a violent government
cannot long subsist, we shall at last, after many convulsions and
civil wars, find repose in absolute monarchy, which it would have
been happier for us to have established peaceably from the
beginning. Absolute monarchy, therefore, is the easiest death, the
true _Euthanasia_ of the British constitution.
"Thus if we have more reason to be jealous of monarchy, because the
danger is more imminent from that quarter; we have also reason to
be more jealous of popular government, because that danger is more
terrible. This may teach us a lesson of moderation in all our
political controversies."--(III. 55.)
One may admire the sagacity of these speculations, and the force and
clearness with which they are expressed, without altogether agreeing
with them. That an analogy between the social and bodily organism
exists, and is, in many respects, clear and full of instructive
suggestion, is undeniable. Yet a state answers, not to an individual,
but to a generic type; and there is no reason, in the nature of things,
why any generic type should die out. The type of the pearly _Nautilus_,
highly organised as it is, has persisted with but little change from the
Silurian epoch till now; and, so long as terrestrial conditions remain
approximately similar to what they are at present, there is no more
reason why it should cease to exist in the next, than in the past,
hundred million years or so. The true ground for doubting the
possibility of the establishment of absolute monarchy in Britain is,
that opinion seems to have passed through, and left far behind, the
stage at which such a change would be possible; and the true reason for
doubting the permanency of a republic, if it is ever established, lies
in the fact, that a republic requires for its maintenance a far higher
standard of morality and of intelligence in the members of the state
than any other form of government. Samuel gave the Israelites a king
because they were not righteous enough to do without one, with a pretty
plain warning of what they were to expect from the gift. And, up to this
time, the progress of such republics as have been established in the
world has not been such, as to lead to any confident expectation that
their foundation is laid on a sufficiently secure subsoil of public
spirit, morality, and intelligence. On the contrary, they exhibit
examples of personal corruption and of political profligacy as fine as
any hotbed of despotism has ever produced; while they fail in the
primary duty of the administration of justice, as none but an effete
despotism has ever failed.
Hume has been accused of departing, in his old age, from the liberal
principles of his youth; and, no doubt, he was careful, in the later
editions of the _Essays_, to expunge everything that savoured of
democratic tendencies. But the passage just quoted shows that this was
no recantation, but simply a confirmation, by his experience of one of
the most debased periods of English history, of those evil tendencies
attendant on popular government, of which, from the first, he was fully
aware.
In the ninth essay, _On the Parties of Great Britain_, there occurs a
passage which, while it affords evidence of the marvellous change which
has taken place in the social condition of Scotland since 1741, contains
an assertion respecting the state of the Jacobite party at that time,
which at first seems surprising:--
"As violent things have not commonly so long a duration as
moderate, we actually find that the Jacobite party is almost
entirely vanished from among us, and that the distinction of
_Court_ and _Country_, which is but creeping in at London, is the
only one that is ever mentioned in this kingdom. Beside the
violence and openness of the Jacobite party, another reason has
perhaps contributed to produce so sudden and so visible an
alteration in this part of Britain. There are only two ranks of men
among us; gentlemen who have some fortune and education, and the
meanest slaving poor; without any considerable number of that
middling rank of men, which abound more in England, both in cities
and in the country, than in any other part of the world. The
slaving poor are incapable of any principles; gentlemen may be
converted to true principles, by time and experience. The middling
rank of men have curiosity and knowledge enough to form principles,
but not enough to form true ones, or correct any prejudices that
they may have imbibed. And it is among the middling rank of people
that Tory principles do at present prevail most in England."--(III.
80, _note_.)
Considering that the Jacobite rebellion of 1745 broke out only four
years after this essay was published, the assertion that the Jacobite
party had "almost entirely vanished in 1741" sounds strange enough: and
the passage which contains it is omitted in the third edition of the
_Essays_, published in 1748. Nevertheless, Hume was probably right, as
the outbreak of '45 was little better than a Highland raid, and the
Pretender obtained no important following in the Lowlands.
No less curious, in comparison with what would be said nowadays, is
Hume's remark in the Essay on the _Rise of the Arts and Sciences_ that--
"The English are become sensible of the scandalous licentiousness
of their stage from the example of the French decency and
morals."--(III. 135.)
And it is perhaps as surprising to be told, by a man of Hume's literary
power, that the first polite prose in the English language was written
by Swift. Locke and Temple (with whom Sprat is astoundingly conjoined)
"knew too little of the rules of art to be esteemed elegant writers,"
and the prose of Bacon, Harrington, and Milton is "altogether stiff and
pedantic." Hobbes, who whether he should be called a "polite" writer or
not, is a master of vigorous English; Clarendon, Addison, and Steele
(the last two, surely, were "polite" writers in all conscience) are not
mentioned.
On the subject of _National Character_, about which more nonsense, and
often very mischievous nonsense, has been and is talked than upon any
other topic, Hume's observations are full of sense and shrewdness. He
distinguishes between the _moral_ and the _physical_ causes of national
character, enumerating under the former--
"The nature of the government, the revolutions of public affairs,
the plenty or penury in which people live, the situation of the
nation with regard to its neighbours, and such like
circumstances."--(III. 225.)
and under the latter:--
"Those qualities of the air and climate, which are supposed to work
insensibly on the temper, by altering the tone and habit of the
body, and giving a particular complexion, which, though reflexion
and reason may sometimes overcome it, will yet prevail among the
generality of mankind, and have an influence on their
manners."--(III. 225.)
While admitting and exemplifying the great influence of moral causes,
Hume remarks--
"As to physical causes, I am inclined to doubt altogether of their
operation in this particular; nor do I think that men owe anything
of their temper or genius to the air, food, or climate."--(III.
227.)
Hume certainly would not have accepted the "rice theory" in explanation
of the social state of the Hindoos; and, it may be safely assumed, that
he would not have had recourse to the circumambience of the "melancholy
main" to account for the troublous history of Ireland. He supports his
views by a variety of strong arguments, among which, at the present
conjuncture, it is worth noting that the following occurs--
"Where any accident, as a difference in language or religion, keeps
two nations, inhabiting the same country, from mixing with one
another, they will preserve during several centuries a distinct and
even opposite set of manners. The integrity, gravity, and bravery
of the Turks, form an exact contrast to the deceit, levity, and
cowardice of the modern Greeks."--(III. 233.)
The question of the influence of race, which plays so great a part in
modern political speculations, was hardly broached in Hume's time, but
he had an inkling of its importance:--
"I am apt to suspect the Negroes to be naturally inferior to the
Whites. There scarcely ever was a civilised nation of that
complexion, nor even any individual, eminent either in action or
speculation.... Such a uniform and constant difference [between the
negroes and the whites] could not happen in so many countries and
ages, if nature had not made an original distinction between these
breeds of men.... In Jamaica, indeed, they talk of one Negro as a
man of parts and learning; but it is likely he is admired for
slender accomplishments, like a parrot who speaks a few words
plainly."--(III. 236.)
The _Essays_ met with the success they deserved. Hume wrote to Henry
Home in June, 1742:--
"The Essays are all sold in London, as I am informed by two letters
from English gentlemen of my acquaintance. There is a demand for
them; and, as one of them tells me, Innys, the great bookseller in
Paul's Churchyard, wonders there is not a new edition, for he
cannot find copies for his customers. I am also told that Dr.
Butler has everywhere recommended them; so that I hope that they
will have some success."
Hume had sent Butler a copy of the _Treatise_ and had called upon him,
in London, but he was out of town; and being shortly afterwards made
Bishop of Bristol, Hume seems to have thought that further advances on
his part might not be well received.
Greatly comforted by this measure of success, Hume remained at
Ninewells, rubbing up his Greek, until 1745; when, at the mature age of
thirty-four, he made his entry into practical life, by becoming
bear-leader to the Marquis of Annandale, a young nobleman of feeble
body and feebler mind. As might have been predicted, this venture was
not more fortunate than his previous ones; and, after a year's
endurance, diversified latterly with pecuniary squabbles, in which
Hume's tenacity about a somewhat small claim is remarkable, the
engagement came to an end.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A picture of the house, taken from Drummond's _History of Noble
British Families_, is to be seen in Chambers's _Book of Days_ (April
26th); and if, as Drummond says, "It is a favourable specimen of the
best Scotch lairds' houses," all that can be said is worst Scotch lairds
must have been poorly lodged indeed.
[2] Mr. John Hill Burton, in his valuable _Life of Hume_, on which, I
need hardly say, I have drawn freely for the materials of the present
biographical sketch.
[3] One cannot but be reminded of young Descartes' renunciation of study
for soldiering.
[4] _My Own Life._
[5] Letter to Gilbert Elliot of Minto, 1751. "So vast an undertaking,
planned before I was one-and-twenty, and composed before twenty-five,
must necessarily be very defective. I have repented my haste a hundred
and a hundred times."
[6] So says Mr. Burton, and that he is right is proved by a letter of
Hume's, dated February 13, 1739, in which he writes, "'Tis now a
fortnight since my book was published." But it is a curious illustration
of the value of testimony, that Hume, in _My Own Life_, states: "In the
end of 1738 I published my Treatise, and immediately went down to my
mother and my brother."
[7] Burton, _Life_, vol. i. p. 109.
CHAPTER II.
LATER YEARS: THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND.
In 1744, Hume's friends had endeavoured to procure his nomination to the
Chair of "Ethics and pneumatic philosophy"[8] in the University of
Edinburgh. About this matter he writes to his friend William Mure:--
"The accusation of heresy, deism, scepticism, atheism, &c., &c.,
&c. was started against me; but never took, being bore down by the
contrary authority of all the good company in town."
If the "good company in town" bore down the first three of these
charges, it is to be hoped, for the sake of their veracity, that they
knew their candidate chiefly as the very good company that he always
was; and had paid as little attention, as good company usually does, to
so solid a work as the _Treatise_. Hume expresses a naïve surprise, not
unmixed with indignation, that Hutcheson and Leechman, both clergymen
and sincere, though liberal, professors of orthodoxy, should have
expressed doubts as to his fitness for becoming a professedly
presbyterian teacher of presbyterian youth. The town council, however,
would not have him, and filled up the place with a safe nobody.
In May, 1746, a new prospect opened. General St. Clair was appointed to
the command of an expedition to Canada, and he invited Hume, at a week's
notice, to be his secretary; to which office that of judge advocate was
afterwards added.
Hume writes to a friend: "The office is very genteel, 10_s_. a day,
perquisites, and no expenses;" and, to another, he speculates on the
chance of procuring a company in an American regiment. "But this I build
not on, nor indeed am I very fond of it," he adds; and this was
fortunate, for the expedition, after dawdling away the summer in port,
was suddenly diverted to an attack on L'Orient, where it achieved a huge
failure and returned ignominiously to England.
A letter to Henry Home, written when this unlucky expedition was
recalled, shows that Hume had already seriously turned his attention to
history. Referring to an invitation to go over to Flanders with the
General, he says:
"Had I any fortune which would give me a prospect of leisure and
opportunity to prosecute my _historical projects_, nothing could be
more useful to me, and I should pick up more literary knowledge in
one campaign by being in the General's family, and being introduced
frequently to the Duke's, than most officers could do after many
years' service. But to what can all this serve? I am a philosopher,
and so I suppose must continue."
But this vaticination was shortly to prove erroneous. Hume seems to
have made a very favourable impression on General St. Clair, as he did
upon every one with whom he came into personal contact; for, being
charged with a mission to the court of Turin, in 1748, the General
insisted upon the appointment of Hume as his secretary. He further made
him one of his aides-de-camp; so that the philosopher was obliged to
encase his more than portly, and by no means elegant, figure in a
military uniform. Lord Charlemont, who met him at Turin, says he was
"disguised in scarlet," and that he wore his uniform "like a grocer of
the train-bands." Hume, always ready for a joke at his own expense,
tells of the considerate kindness with which, at a reception at Vienna,
the Empress-dowager released him and his friends from the necessity of
walking backwards. "We esteemed ourselves very much obliged to her for
this attention, especially my companions, who were desperately afraid of
my falling on them and crushing them."
Notwithstanding the many attractions of this appointment, Hume writes
that he leaves home "with infinite regret, where I had treasured up
stores of study and plans of thinking for many years;" and his only
consolation is that the opportunity of becoming conversant with state
affairs may be profitable:--
"I shall have an opportunity of seeing courts and camps: and if I
can afterward be so happy as to attain leisure and other
opportunities, this knowledge may even turn to account to me as a
man of letters, which I confess has always been the sole object of
my ambition. I have long had an intention, in my riper years, of
composing some history; and I question not but some greater
experience in the operations of the field and the intrigues of the
cabinet will be requisite, in order to enable me to speak with
judgment on these subjects."
Hume returned to London in 1749, and, during his stay there, his mother
died, to his heartfelt sorrow. A curious story in connection with this
event is told by Dr. Carlyle, who knew Hume well, and whose authority is
perfectly trustworthy.
"Mr. Boyle hearing of it, soon after went to his apartment, for
they lodged in the same house, where he found him in the deepest
affliction and in a flood of tears. After the usual topics and
condolences Mr. Boyle said to him, 'My friend, you owe this
uncommon grief to having thrown off the principles of religion: for
if you had not, you would have been consoled with the firm belief
that the good lady, who was not only the best of mothers, but the
most pious of Christians, was completely happy in the realms of the
just. To which David replied, 'Though I throw out my speculations
to entertain the learned and metaphysical world, yet in other
things I do not think so differently from the rest of the world as
you imagine.'"
If Hume had told this story to Dr. Carlyle, the latter would have said
so; it must therefore have come from Mr. Boyle; and one would like to
have the opportunity of cross-examining that gentleman as to Hume's
exact words and their context, before implicitly accepting his version
of the conversation. Mr. Boyle's experience of mankind must have been
small, if he had not seen the firmest of believers overwhelmed with
grief by a like loss, and as completely inconsolable. Hume may have
thrown off Mr. Boyle's "principles of religion," but he was none the
less a very honest man, perfectly open and candid, and the last person
to use ambiguous phraseology, among his friends; unless, indeed, he saw
no other way of putting a stop to the intrusion of unmannerly twaddle
amongst the bitter-sweet memories stirred in his affectionate nature by
so heavy a blow.
The _Philosophical Essays_ or _Inquiry_ was published in 1748, while
Hume was away with General St. Clair, and, on his return to England, he
had the mortification to find it overlooked in the hubbub caused by
Middleton's _Free Inquiry_, and its bold handling of the topic of the
_Essay on Miracles_, by which Hume doubtless expected the public to be
startled.
Between 1749 and 1751, Hume resided at Ninewells, with his brother and
sister, and busied himself with the composition of his most finished, if
not his most important works, the _Dialogues on Natural Religion_, the
_Inquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals_, and the _Political
Discourses_.
_The Dialogues on Natural Religion_ were touched and re-touched, at
intervals, for a quarter of a century, and were not published till after
Hume's death: but the _Inquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals_
appeared in 1751, and the _Political Discourses_ in 1752. Full reference
will be made to the two former in the exposition of Hume's philosophical
views. The last has been well said to be the "cradle of political
economy: and much as that science has been investigated and expounded in
later times, these earliest, shortest, and simplest developments of its
principles are still read with delight even by those who are masters of
all the literature of this great subject."[9]
The _Wealth of Nations_, the masterpiece of Hume's close friend, Adam
Smith, it must be remembered, did not appear before 1776, so that, in
political economy, no less than in philosophy, Hume was an original, a
daring, and a fertile innovator.
The _Political Essays_ had a great and rapid success; translated into
French in 1753, and again in 1754, they conferred a European reputation
upon their author; and, what was more to the purpose, influenced the
later French school of economists of the eighteenth century.
By this time, Hume had not only attained a high reputation in the world
of letters, but he considered himself a man of independent fortune. His
frugal habits had enabled him to accumulate £1,000, and he tells Michael
Ramsay in 1751:--
"While interest remains as at present, I have £50 a year, a hundred
pounds worth of books, great store of linens and fine clothes, and
near £100 in my pocket; along with order, frugality, a strong
spirit of independency, good health, a contented humour, and an
unabated love of study. In these circumstances I must esteem myself
one of the happy and fortunate; and so far from being willing to
draw my ticket over again in the lottery of life, there are very
few prizes with which I would make an exchange. After some
deliberation, I am resolved to settle in Edinburgh, and hope I
shall be able with these revenues to say with Horace:--
'Est bona librorum et provisæ frugis in annum
Copia.'"
It would be difficult to find a better example of the honourable
independence and cheerful self-reliance which should distinguish a man
of letters, and which characterised Hume throughout his career. By
honourable effort, the boy's noble ideal of life, became the man's
reality; and, at forty, Hume had the happiness of finding that he had
not wasted his youth in the pursuit of illusions, but that "the solid
certainty of waking bliss" lay before him, in the free play of his
powers in their appropriate sphere.
In 1751, Hume removed to Edinburgh and took up his abode on a flat in
one of those prodigious houses in the Lawnmarket, which still excite the
admiration of tourists; afterwards moving to a house in the Canongate.
His sister joined him, adding £30 a year to the common stock; and, in
one of his charmingly playful letters to Dr. Clephane, he thus describes
his establishment, in 1753.
"I shall exult and triumph to you a little that I have now at
last--being turned of forty, to my own honour, to that of learning,
and to that of the present age--arrived at the dignity of being a
householder.
"About seven months ago, I got a house of my own, and completed a
regular family, consisting of a head, viz., myself, and two
inferior members, a maid and a cat. My sister has since joined me,
and keeps me company. With frugality, I can reach, I find,
cleanliness, warmth, light, plenty, and contentment. What would you
have more? Independence? I have it in a supreme degree. Honour?
That is not altogether wanting. Grace? That will come in time. A
wife? That is none of the indispensable requisites of life. Books?
That is one of them; and I have more than I can use. In short, I
cannot find any pleasure of consequence which I am not possessed of
in a greater or less degree; and, without any great effort of
philosophy, I may be easy and satisfied.
"As there is no happiness without occupation, I have begun a work
which will occupy me several years, and which yields me much
satisfaction. 'Tis a History of Britain from the Union of the
Crowns to the present time. I have already finished the reign of
King James. My friends flatter me (by this I mean that they don't
flatter me) that I have succeeded."
In 1752, the Faculty of Advocates elected Hume their librarian, an
office which, though it yielded little emolument--the salary was only
forty pounds a year--was valuable as it placed the resources of a large
library at his disposal. The proposal to give Hume even this paltry
place caused a great outcry, on the old score of infidelity. But as Hume
writes, in a jubilant letter to Clephane (February 4, 1752):--
"I carried the election by a considerable majority.... What is more
extraordinary, the cry of religion could not hinder the ladies from
being violently my partisans, and I owe my success in a great
measure to their solicitations. One has broke off all commerce with
her lover because he voted against me! And Mr. Lockhart, in a
speech to the Faculty, said there was no walking the streets, nor
even enjoying one's own fireside, on account of their importunate
zeal. The town says that even his bed was not safe for him, though
his wife was cousin-german to my antagonist.
"'Twas vulgarly given out that the contest was between Deists and
Christians, and when the news of my success came to the playhouse,
the whisper rose that the Christians were defeated. Are you not
surprised that we could keep our popularity, notwithstanding this
imputation, which my friends could not deny to be well founded?"
It would seem that the "good company" was less enterprising in its
asseverations in this canvass than in the last.
The first volume of the _History of Great Britain, containing the reign
of James I. and Charles I._, was published in 1754. At first, the sale
was large, especially in Edinburgh, and if notoriety _per se_ was Hume's
object, he attained it. But he liked applause as well as fame and, to
his bitter disappointment, he says:--
"I was assailed by one cry of reproach, disapprobation, and even
detestation: English, Scotch, and Irish, Whig and Tory, Churchman
and Sectary, Freethinker and Religionist, Patriot and Courtier,
united in their rage against the man who had presumed to shed a
generous tear for the fate of Charles I. and the Earl of Strafford;
and after the first ebullitions of their fury were over, what was
still more mortifying, the book seemed to fall into oblivion. Mr.
Millar told me that in a twelvemonth he sold only forty-five copies
of it. I scarcely, indeed, heard of one man in the three kingdoms,
considerable for rank or letters, that could endure the book. I
must only except the primate of England, Dr. Herring, and the
primate of Ireland, Dr. Stone, which seem two odd exceptions. These
dignified prelates separately sent me messages not to be
discouraged."
It certainly is odd to think of David Hume being comforted in his
affliction by the independent and spontaneous sympathy of a pair of
archbishops. But the instincts of the dignified prelates guided them
rightly; for, as the great painter of English history in Whig pigments
has been careful to point out,[10] Hume's historical picture, though a
great work, drawn by a master hand, has all the lights Tory, and all the
shades Whig.
Hume's ecclesiastical enemies seem to have thought that their
opportunity had now arrived; and an attempt was made to get the General
Assembly of 1756 to appoint a committee to inquire into his writings.
But, after a keen debate, the proposal was rejected by fifty votes to
seventeen. Hume does not appear to have troubled himself about the
matter, and does not even think it worth mention in _My Own Life_.
In 1756 he tells Clephane that he is worth £1,600 sterling, and
consequently master of an income which must have been wealth to a man of
his frugal habits. In the same year, he published the second volume of
the _History_, which met with a much better reception than the first;
and, in 1757, one of his most remarkable works, the _Natural History of
Religion_, appeared. In the same year, he resigned his office of
librarian to the Faculty of Advocates, and he projected removal to
London, probably to superintend the publication of the additional volume
of the _History_.
"I shall certainly be in London next summer; and probably to remain
there during life: at least, if I can settle myself to my mind,
which I beg you to have an eye to. A room in a sober discreet
family, who would not be averse to admit a sober, discreet,
virtuous, regular, quiet, goodnatured man of a bad character--such
a room, I say, would suit me extremely."[11]
The promised visit took place in the latter part of the year 1758, and
he remained in the metropolis for the greater part of 1759. The two
volumes of the _History of England under the House of Tudor_ were
published in London, shortly after Hume's return to Edinburgh; and,
according to his own account, they raised almost as great a clamour as
the first two had done.
Busily occupied with the continuation of his historical labours, Hume
remained in Edinburgh until 1763; when, at the request of Lord Hertford,
who was going as ambassador to France, he was appointed to the embassy;
with the promise of the secretaryship, and, in the meanwhile,
performing the duties of that office. At first, Hume declined the offer;
but, as it was particularly honourable to so well abused a man, on
account of Lord Hertford's high reputation for virtue and piety,[12] and
no less advantageous by reason of the increase of fortune which it
secured to him, he eventually accepted it.
In France, Hume's reputation stood far higher than in Britain; several
of his works had been translated; he had exchanged letters with
Montesquieu and with Helvetius; Rousseau had appealed to him; and the
charming Madame de Boufflers had drawn him into a correspondence, marked
by almost passionate enthusiasm on her part, and as fair an imitation of
enthusiasm as Hume was capable of, on his. In the extraordinary mixture
of learning, wit, humanity, frivolity, and profligacy which then
characterised the highest French society, a new sensation was worth
anything, and it mattered little whether the cause thereof was a
philosopher or a poodle; so Hume had a great success in the Parisian
world. Great nobles fêted him, and great ladies were not content unless
the "gros David" was to be seen at their receptions, and in their boxes
at the theatre. "At the opera his broad unmeaning face was usually to be
seen _entre deux jolis minois_," says Lord Charlemont.[13] Hume's cool
head was by no means turned; but he took the goods the gods provided
with much satisfaction; and everywhere won golden opinions by his
unaffected good sense and thorough kindness of heart.
Over all this part of Hume's career, as over the surprising episode of
the quarrel with Rousseau, if that can be called quarrel which was
lunatic malignity on Rousseau's side and thorough generosity and
patience on Hume's, I may pass lightly. The story is admirably told by
Mr. Burton, to whose volumes I refer the reader. Nor need I dwell upon
Hume's short tenure of office in London, as Under-Secretary of State,
between 1767 and 1769. Success and wealth are rarely interesting, and
Hume's case is no exception to the rule.
According to his own description the cares of official life were not
overwhelming.
"My way of life here is very uniform and by no means disagreeable.
I have all the forenoon in the Secretary's house, from ten till
three, when there arrive from time to time messengers that bring me
all the secrets of the kingdom, and, indeed, of Europe, Asia,
Africa, and America. I am seldom hurried; but have leisure at
intervals to take up a book, or write a private letter, or converse
with a friend that may call for me; and from dinner to bed-time is
all my own. If you add to this that the person with whom I have the
chief, if not only, transactions, is the most reasonable,
equal-tempered, and gentleman-like man imaginable, and Lady
Aylesbury the same, you will certainly think I have no reason to
complain; and I am far from complaining. I only shall not regret
when my duty is over; because to me the situation can lead to
nothing, at least in all probability; and reading, and sauntering,
and lounging, and dozing, which I call thinking, is my supreme
happiness--I mean my full contentment."
Hume's duty was soon over, and he returned to Edinburgh in 1769, "very
opulent" in the possession of £1,000 a year, and determined to take what
remained to him of life pleasantly and easily. In October, 1769, he
writes to Elliot:--
"I have been settled here two months, and am here body and soul,
without casting the least thought of regret to London, or even to
Paris.... I live still, and must for a twelvemonth, in my old house
in James's Court, which is very cheerful and even elegant, but too
small to display my great talent for cookery, the science to which
I intend to addict the remaining years of my life. I have just now
lying on the table before me a receipt for making _soupe à la
reine_, copied with my own hand; for beef and cabbage (a charming
dish) and old mutton and old claret nobody excels me. I make also
sheep's-head broth in a manner that Mr. Keith speaks of for eight
days after; and the Duc de Nivernois would bind himself apprentice
to my lass to learn it. I have already sent a challenge to David
Moncreiff: you will see that in a twelvemonth he will take to the
writing of history, the field I have deserted; for as to the giving
of dinners, he can now have no further pretensions. I should have
made a very bad use of my abode in Paris if I could not get the
better of a mere provincial like him. All my friends encourage me
in this ambition; as thinking it will redound very much to my
honour."
In 1770, Hume built himself a house in the new town of Edinburgh, which
was then springing up. It was the first house in the street, and a
frolicsome young lady chalked upon the wall "St. David's Street." Hume's
servant complained to her master, who replied, "Never mind, lassie, many
a better man has been made a saint of before," and the street retains
its title to this day.
In the following six years, the house in St. David's Street was the
centre of the accomplished and refined society which then distinguished
Edinburgh. Adam Smith, Blair, and Ferguson were within easy reach; and
what remains of Hume's correspondence with Sir Gilbert Elliot, Colonel
Edmonstone, and Mrs. Cockburn gives pleasant glimpses of his social
surroundings, and enables us to understand his contentment with his
absence from the more perturbed, if more brilliant, worlds of Paris and
London.
Towards London, Londoners, and indeed Englishmen in general, Hume
entertained a dislike, mingled with contempt, which was as nearly
rancorous as any emotion of his could be. During his residence in Paris,
in 1764 and 1765, he writes to Blair:--
"The taste for literature is neither decayed nor depraved here, as
with the barbarians who inhabit the banks of the Thames."
And he speaks of the "general regard paid to genius and learning" in
France as one of the points in which it most differs from England. Ten
years later, he cannot even thank Gibbon for his History without the
left-handed compliment, that he should never have expected such an
excellent work from the pen of an Englishman. Early in 1765, Hume writes
to Millar:--
"The rage and prejudice of parties frighten me, and above all, this
rage against the Scots, which is so dishonourable, and indeed so
infamous, to the English nation. We hear that it increases every
day without the least appearance of provocation on our part. It has
frequently made me resolve never in my life to set foot on English
ground. I dread, if I should undertake a more modern history, the
impertinence and ill-manners to which it would expose me; and I was
willing to know from you whether former prejudices had so far
subsided as to ensure me of a good reception."
His fears were kindly appeased by Millar's assurance that the English
were not prejudiced against the Scots in general, but against the
particular Scot, Lord Bute, who was supposed to be the guide,
philosopher, and friend, of both Dowager Queen and King.
To care nothing about literature, to dislike Scotchmen, and to be
insensible to the merits of David Hume, was a combination of iniquities
on the part of the English nation, which would have been amply
sufficient to ruffle the temper of the philosophic historian, who,
without being foolishly vain, had certainly no need of what has been
said to be the one form of prayer in which his countrymen, torn as they
are by theological differences, agree; "Lord! gie us a gude conceit o'
oursels." But when, to all this, these same Southrons added a passionate
admiration for Lord Chatham, who was in Hume's eyes a charlatan; and
filled up the cup of their abominations by cheering for "Wilkes and
Liberty," Hume's wrath knew no bounds, and, between 1768 and 1770, he
pours a perfect Jeremiad into the bosom of his friend Sir Gilbert
Elliot.
"Oh! how I long to see America and the East Indies revolted,
totally and finally--the revenue reduced to half--public credit
fully discredited by bankruptcy--the third of London in ruins, and
the rascally mob subdued! I think I am not too old to despair of
being witness to all these blessings.
"I am delighted to see the daily and hourly progress of madness and
folly and wickedness in England. The consummation of these
qualities are the true ingredients for making a fine narrative in
history, especially if followed by some signal and ruinous
convulsion--as I hope will soon be the case with that pernicious
people!"
Even from the secure haven of James's Court, the maledictions continue
to pour forth:--
"Nothing but a rebellion and bloodshed will open the eyes of that
deluded people; though were they alone concerned, I think it is no
matter what becomes of them.... Our government has become a
chimera, and is too perfect, in point of liberty, for so rude a
beast as an Englishman; who is a man, a bad animal too, corrupted
by above a century of licentiousness. The misfortune is that this
liberty can scarcely be retrenched without danger of being entirely
lost; at least the fatal effects of licentiousness must first be
made palpable by some extreme mischief resulting from it. I may
wish that the catastrophe should rather fall on our posterity, but
it hastens on with such large strides as to leave little room for
hope.
I am running over again the last edition of my History, in order to
correct it still further. I either soften or expunge many
villainous seditious Whig strokes which had crept into it. I wish
that my indignation at the present madness, encouraged by lies,
calumnies, imposture, and every infamous act usual among popular
leaders, may not throw me into the opposite extreme."
A wise wish, indeed. Posterity respectfully concurs therein; and
subjects Hume's estimate of England and things English to such
modifications as it would probably have undergone had the wish been
fulfilled.
In 1775, Hume's health began to fail; and, in the spring of the
following year, his disorder, which appears to have been hæmorrhage of
the bowels, attained such a height that he knew it must be fatal. So he
made his will, and wrote _My Own Life_, the conclusion of which is one
of the most cheerful, simple, and dignified leave-takings of life and
all its concerns, extant.
"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 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 later 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 know
that I could have but few years to enjoy it. It is difficult to be
more detached from life than I am at present.
"To conclude historically with my own character, I am, or rather
was (for that is the style I must now use in speaking of myself,
which emboldens me the more to speak my sentiments); I was, I say,
a man of mild dispositions, of command of temper, of an open,
social, and cheerful humour, capable of attachment, but little
susceptible of enmity, and of great moderation in all my passions.
Even my love of literary fame, my ruling passion, never soured my
temper, notwithstanding my frequent disappointments. My company was
not unacceptable to the young and careless, as well as to the
studious and literary; and as I took a particular pleasure in the
company of modest women, I had no reason to be displeased with the
reception I met with from them. In a word, though most men any wise
eminent, have found reason to complain of calumny, I never was
touched or even attacked by her baleful tooth; and though I
wantonly exposed myself to the rage of both civil and religious
factions, they seemed to be disarmed in my behalf of their wonted
fury. My friends never had occasion to vindicate any one
circumstance of my character and conduct; not but that the zealots,
we may well suppose, would have been glad to invent and propagate
any story to my disadvantage, but they could never find any which
they thought would wear the face of probability. I cannot say there
is no vanity in making this funeral oration of myself, but I hope
it is not a misplaced one; and this is a matter of fact which is
easily cleared and ascertained."
Hume died in Edinburgh on the 25th of August, 1776, and, a few days
later, his body, attended by a great concourse of people, who seem to
have anticipated for it the fate appropriate to the remains of wizards
and necromancers, was deposited in a spot selected by himself, in an old
burial-ground on the eastern slope of the Calton Hill.
From the summit of this hill, there is a prospect unequalled by any to
be seen from the midst of a great city. Westward lies the Forth, and
beyond it, dimly blue, the far away Highland hills; eastward, rise the
bold contours of Arthur's Seat and the rugged crags of the Castle rock,
with the grey Old Town of Edinburgh; while, far below, from a maze of
crowded thoroughfares, the hoarse murmur of the toil of a polity of
energetic men is borne upon the ear. At times, a man may be as solitary
here as in a veritable wilderness; and may meditate undisturbedly upon
the epitome of nature and of man--the kingdoms of this world--spread out
before him.
Surely, there is a fitness in the choice of this last resting-place by
the philosopher and historian, who saw so clearly that these two
kingdoms form but one realm, governed by uniform laws and alike based on
impenetrable darkness and eternal silence: and faithful to the last to
that profound veracity which was the secret of his philosophic
greatness, he ordered that the simple Roman tomb which marks his grave
should bear no inscription but
DAVID HUME
BORN 1711. DIED 1776.
_Leaving it to posterity to add the rest._
It was by the desire and at the suggestion of my friend, the Editor of
this Series, that I undertook to attempt to help posterity in the
difficult business of knowing what to add to Hume's epitaph; and I
might, with justice, throw upon him the responsibility of my apparent
presumption in occupying a place among the men of letters, who are
engaged with him, in their proper function of writing about English Men
of Letters.
That to which succeeding generations have made, are making, and will
make, continual additions, however, is Hume's fame as a philosopher;
and, though I know that my plea will add to my offence in some quarters,
I must plead, in extenuation of my audacity, that philosophy lies in the
province of science, and not in that of letters.
In dealing with Hume's Life, I have endeavoured, as far as possible, to
make him speak for himself. If the extracts from his letters and essays
which I have given do not sufficiently show what manner of man he was,
I am sure that nothing I could say would make the case plainer. In the
exposition of Hume's philosophy which follows, I have pursued the same
plan, and I have applied myself to the task of selecting and arranging
in systematic order, the passages which appeared to me to contain the
clearest statements of Hume's opinions.
I should have been glad to be able to confine myself to this duty, and
to limit my own comments to so much as was absolutely necessary to
connect my excerpts. Here and there, however, it must be confessed that
more is seen of my thread than of Hume's beads. My excuse must be an
ineradicable tendency to try to make things clear; while, I may further
hope, that there is nothing in what I may have said, which is
inconsistent with the logical development of Hume's principles.
My authority for the facts of Hume's life is the admirable biography,
published in 1846, by Mr. John Hill Burton. The edition of Hume's works
from which all citations are made is that published by Black and Tait in
Edinburgh, in 1826. In this edition, the Essays are reprinted from the
edition of 1777, corrected by the author for the press a short time
before his death. It is well printed in four handy volumes; and as my
copy has long been in my possession, and bears marks of much reading, it
would have been troublesome for me to refer to any other. But, for the
convenience of those who possess some other edition, the following table
of the contents of the edition of 1826, with the paging of the four
volumes, is given:--
VOLUME I.
TREATISE OF HUMAN NATURE.
Book I. _Of the Understanding_, p. 5 to the end, p. 347.
VOLUME II.
TREATISE OF HUMAN NATURE.
Book II. _Of the Passions_, p. 3-p. 215.
Book III. _Of Morals_, p. 219-p. 415.
DIALOGUES CONCERNING NATURAL RELIGION, p. 419-p. 548.
APPENDIX TO THE TREATISE, p. 551-p. 560.
VOLUME III.
ESSAYS, MORAL AND POLITICAL, p. 3-p. 282.
POLITICAL DISCOURSES, p. 285-p. 579.
VOLUME IV.
AN INQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, p. 3-p. 233.
AN INQUIRY CONCERNING THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALS, p. 237-p. 431.
THE NATURAL HISTORY OF RELIGION, p. 435-p. 513.
ADDITIONAL ESSAYS, p. 517-p. 577.
As the volume and the page of the volume are given in my references, it
will be easy, by the help of this table, to learn where to look for any
passage cited, in differently arranged editions.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] "Pneumatic philosophy" must not be confounded with the theory of
elastic fluids; though, as Scottish chairs have, before now, combined
natural with civil history, the mistake would be pardonable.
[9] Burton's _Life of David Hume_, i. p. 354.
[10] Lord Macaulay, Article on History, _Edinburgh Review_, vol. lxvii.
[11] Letter to Clephane, 3rd September, 1757.
[12] "You must know that Lord Hertford has so high a character for
piety, that his taking me by the hand is a kind of regeneration to me,
and all past offences are now wiped off. But all these views are
trifling to one of my age and temper."--_Hume to Edmonstone_, 9th
January, 1764. Lord Hertford had procured him a pension of £200 a year
for life from the King, and the secretaryship was worth £1000 a year.
[13] Madame d'Epinay gives a ludicrous account of Hume's performance
when pressed into a _tableau_, as a Sultan between two slaves,
personated for the occasion by two of the prettiest women in Paris:--
"Il les regarde attentivement, _il se frappe le ventre_ et les genoux à
plusieurs reprises et ne trouve jamais autre chose à leur dire que _Eh
bien! mes demoiselles.--Eh bien! vous voilà donc.... Eh bien! vous voilà
... vous voilà ici?_ Cette phrase dura un quart d'heure sans qu'il pût
en sortir. Une d'elles se leva d'impatience: Ah, dit-elle, je m'en étois
bien doutée, cet homme n'est bon qu'à manger du veau!"--Burton's _Life
of Hume_, vol. ii. p. 224.
PART II.
_HUME'S PHILOSOPHY._
CHAPTER I.
THE OBJECT AND SCOPE OF PHILOSOPHY.
Kant has said that the business of philosophy is to answer three
questions: What can I know? What ought I to do? and For what may I hope?
But it is pretty plain that these three resolve themselves, in the long
run, into the first. For rational expectation and moral action are alike
based upon beliefs; and a belief is void of justification, unless its
subject-matter lies within the boundaries of possible knowledge, and
unless its evidence satisfies the conditions which experience imposes as
the guarantee of credibility.
Fundamentally, then, philosophy is the answer to the question, What can
I know? and it is by applying itself to this problem, that philosophy is
properly distinguished as a special department of scientific research.
What is commonly called science, whether mathematical, physical, or
biological, consists of the answers which mankind have been able to
give to the inquiry, What do I know? They furnish us with the results of
the mental operations which constitute thinking; while philosophy, in
the stricter sense of the term, inquires into the foundation of the
first principles which those operations assume or imply.
But though, by reason of the special purpose of philosophy, its
distinctness from other branches of scientific investigation may be
properly vindicated, it is easy to see that, from the nature of its
subject-matter, it is intimately and, indeed, inseparably connected with
one branch of science. For it is obviously impossible to answer the
question, What can we know? unless, in the first place, there is a clear
understanding as to what is meant by knowledge; and, having settled this
point, the next step is to inquire how we come by that which we allow to
be knowledge; for, upon the reply, turns the answer to the further
question, whether, from the nature of the case, there are limits to the
knowable or not. While, finally, inasmuch as What can I know? not only
refers to knowledge of the past or of the present, but to the confident
expectation which we call knowledge of the future; it is necessary to
ask, further, what justification can be alleged for trusting to the
guidance of our expectations in practical conduct.
It surely needs no argumentation to show, that the first problem cannot
be approached without the examination of the contents of the mind; and
the determination of how much of these contents may be called knowledge.
Nor can the second problem be dealt with in any other fashion; for it is
only by the observation of the growth of knowledge that we can
rationally hope to discover how knowledge grows. But the solution of
the third problem simply involves the discussion of the data obtained
by the investigation of the foregoing two.
Thus, in order to answer three out of the four subordinate questions
into which What can I know? breaks up, we must have recourse to that
investigation of mental phenomena, the results of which are embodied in
the science of psychology.
Psychology is a part of the science of life or biology, which differs
from the other branches of that science, merely in so far as it deals
with the psychical, instead of the physical, phenomena of life.
As there is an anatomy of the body, so there is an anatomy of the mind;
the psychologist dissects mental phenomena into elementary states of
consciousness, as the anatomist resolves limbs into tissues, and tissues
into cells. The one traces the development of complex organs from simple
rudiments; the other follows the building up of complex conceptions out
of simpler constituents of thought. As the physiologist inquires into
the way in which the so-called "functions" of the body are performed, so
the psychologist studies the so-called "faculties" of the mind. Even a
cursory attention to the ways and works of the lower animals suggests a
comparative anatomy and physiology of the mind; and the doctrine of
evolution presses for application as much in the one field as in the
other.
But there is more than a parallel, there is a close and intimate
connexion between psychology and physiology. No one doubts that, at any
rate, some mental states are dependent for their existence on the
performance of the functions of particular bodily organs. There is no
seeing without eyes, and no hearing without ears. If the origin of the
contents of the mind is truly a philosophical problem, then the
philosopher who attempts to deal with that problem, without acquainting
himself with the physiology of sensation, has no more intelligent
conception of his business than the physiologist, who thinks he can
discuss locomotion, without an acquaintance with the principles of
mechanics; or respiration, without some tincture of chemistry.
On whatever ground we term physiology, science, psychology is entitled
to the same appellation; and the method of investigation which
elucidates the true relations of the one set of phenomena will discover
those of the other. Hence, as philosophy is, in great measure, the
exponent of the logical consequences of certain data established by
psychology; and as psychology itself differs from physical science only
in the nature of its subject-matter, and not in its method of
investigation, it would seem to be an obvious conclusion, that
philosophers are likely to be successful in their inquiries, in
proportion as they are familiar with the application of scientific
method to less abstruse subjects; just as it seems to require no
elaborate demonstration, that an astronomer, who wishes to comprehend
the solar system, would do well to acquire a preliminary acquaintance
with the elements of physics. And it is accordant with this presumption,
that the men who have made the most important positive additions to
philosophy, such as Descartes, Spinoza, and Kant, not to mention more
recent examples, have been deeply imbued with the spirit of physical
science; and, in some cases, such as those of Descartes and Kant, have
been largely acquainted with its details. On the other hand, the founder
of Positivism no less admirably illustrates the connexion of scientific
incapacity with philosophical incompetence. In truth, the laboratory is
the fore-court of the temple of philosophy; and whoso has not offered
sacrifices and undergone purification there, has little chance of
admission into the sanctuary.
Obvious as these considerations may appear to be, it would be wrong to
ignore the fact that their force is by no means universally admitted. On
the contrary, the necessity for a proper psychological and physiological
training to the student of philosophy is denied, on the one hand, by the
"pure metaphysicians," who attempt to base the theory of knowing upon
supposed necessary and universal truths, and assert that scientific
observation is impossible unless such truths are already known or
implied: which, to those who are not "pure metaphysicians," seems very
much as if one should say that the fall of a stone cannot be observed,
unless the law of gravitation is already in the mind of the observer.
On the other hand, the Positivists, so far as they accept the teachings
of their master, roundly assert, at any rate in words, that observation
of the mind is a thing inherently impossible in itself, and that
psychology is a chimera--a phantasm generated by the fermentation of the
dregs of theology. Nevertheless, if M. Comte had been asked what he
meant by "physiologic cérebrale," except that which other people call
"psychology;" and how he knew anything about the functions of the brain,
except by that very "observation intérieure," which he declares to be an
absurdity--it seems probable that he would have found it hard to escape
the admission, that, in vilipending psychology, he had been propounding
solemn nonsense.
It is assuredly one of Hume's greatest merits that he clearly recognised
the fact that philosophy is based upon psychology; and that the inquiry
into the contents and the operations of the mind must be conducted upon
the same principles as a physical investigation, if what he calls the
"moral philosopher" would attain results of as firm and definite a
character as those which reward the "natural philosopher."[14] The title
of his first work, a "_Treatise of Human Nature, being an Attempt to
introduce the Experimental method of Reasoning into Moral Subjects_,"
sufficiently indicates the point of view from which Hume regarded
philosophical problems; and he tells us in the preface, that his object
has been to promote the construction of a "science of man."
"'Tis evident that all the sciences have a relation, greater or
less, to human nature; and that, however wide any of them may seem
to run from it, they still return back by one passage or another.
Even _Mathematics_, _Natural Philosophy_, and _Natural Religion_
are in some measure dependent on the science of MAN; since they lie
under the cognizance of men, and are judged of by their powers and
qualities. 'Tis impossible to tell what changes and improvements we
might make in these sciences were we thoroughly acquainted with the
extent and force of human understanding, and could explain the
nature of the ideas we employ and of the operations we perform in
our reasonings.... To me it seems evident that the essence of mind
being equally unknown to us with that of external bodies, it must
be equally impossible to form any notion of its powers and
qualities otherwise than from careful and exact experiments, and
the observation of those particular effects which result from its
different circumstances and situations. And though we must
endeavour to render all our principles as universal as possible, by
tracing up our experiments to the utmost, and explaining all
effects from the simplest and fewest causes, 'tis still certain we
cannot go beyond experience; and any hypothesis that pretends to
discover the ultimate original qualities of human nature, ought at
first to be rejected as presumptuous and chimerical....
"But if this impossibility of explaining ultimate principles should
be esteemed a defect in the science of man, I will venture to
affirm, that it is a defect common to it with all the sciences, and
all the arts, in which we can employ ourselves, whether they be
such as are cultivated in the schools of the philosophers, or
practised in the shops of the meanest artisans. None of them can go
beyond experience, or establish any principles which are not
founded on that authority. Moral philosophy has, indeed, this
peculiar disadvantage, which is not found in natural, that in
collecting its experiments, it cannot make them purposely, with
premeditation, and after such a manner as to satisfy itself
concerning every particular difficulty which may arise. When I am
at a loss to know the effects of one body upon another in any
situation, I need only put them in that situation, and observe what
results from it. But should I endeavour to clear up in the same
manner any[15] doubt in moral philosophy, by placing myself in the
same case with that which I consider, 'tis evident this reflection
and premeditation would so disturb the operation of my natural
principles, as must render it impossible to form any just
conclusion from the phenomenon. We must, therefore, glean up our
experiments in this science from a cautious observation of human
life, and take them as they appear in the common course of the
world, by men's behaviour in company, in affairs, and in their
pleasures. Where experiments of this kind are judiciously collected
and compared, we may hope to establish on them a science which
will not be inferior in certainty, and will be much superior in
utility, to any other of human comprehension."--(I. pp. 7-11.)
All science starts with hypotheses--in other words, with assumptions
that are unproved, while they may be, and often are, erroneous; but
which are better than nothing to the seeker after order in the maze of
phenomena. And the historical progress of every science depends on the
criticism of hypotheses--on the gradual stripping off, that is, of their
untrue or superfluous parts--until there remains only that exact verbal
expression of as much as we know of the fact, and no more, which
constitutes a perfect scientific theory.
Philosophy has followed the same course as other branches of scientific
investigation. The memorable service rendered to the cause of sound
thinking by Descartes consisted in this: that he laid the foundation of
modern philosophical criticism by his inquiry into the nature of
certainty. It is a clear result of the investigation started by
Descartes, that there is one thing of which no doubt can be entertained,
for he who should pretend to doubt it would thereby prove its existence;
and that is the momentary consciousness we call a present thought or
feeling; that is safe, even if all other kinds of certainty are merely
more or less probable inferences. Berkeley and Locke, each in his way,
applied philosophical criticism in other directions; but they always, at
any rate professedly, followed the Cartesian maxim of admitting no
propositions to be true but such as are clear, distinct, and evident,
even while their arguments stripped off many a layer of hypothetical
assumption which their great predecessor had left untouched. No one has
more clearly stated the aims of the critical philosopher than Locke, in
a passage of the famous _Essay concerning Human Understanding_, which,
perhaps, I ought to assume to be well known to all English readers, but
which so probably is unknown to this full-crammed and much examined
generation that I venture to cite it:
"If by this inquiry into the nature of the understanding I can
discover the powers thereof, how far they reach, to what things
they are in any degree proportionate, and where they fail us, I
suppose it may be of use to prevail with the busy mind of man to be
more cautious in meddling with things exceeding its comprehension:
to stop when it is at the utmost extent of its tether; and to sit
down in quiet ignorance of those things which, upon examination,
are proved to be beyond the reach of our capacities. We should not
then, perhaps, be so forward, out of an affectation of universal
knowledge, to raise questions and perplex ourselves and others with
disputes about things to which our understandings are not suited,
and of which we cannot frame in our minds any clear and distinct
perception, or whereof (as it has, perhaps, too often happened) we
have not any notion at all.... Men may find matter sufficient to
busy their heads and employ their hands with variety, delight, and
satisfaction, if they will not boldly quarrel with their own
constitution and throw away the blessings their hands are filled
with because they are not big enough to grasp everything. We shall
not have much reason to complain of the narrowness of our minds, if
we will but employ them about what may be of use to us: for of that
they are very capable: and it will be an unpardonable, as well as a
childish peevishness, if we under-value the advantages of our
knowledge, and neglect to improve it to the ends for which it was
given us, because there are some things that are set out of the
reach of it. It will be no excuse to an idle and untoward servant
who would not attend to his business by candlelight, to plead that
he had not broad sunshine. The candle that is set up in us shines
bright enough for all our purposes.... Our business here is not to
know all things, but those which concern our conduct."[16]
Hume develops the same fundamental conception in a somewhat different
way, and with a more definite indication of the practical benefits which
may be expected from a critical philosophy. The first and second parts
of the twelfth section of the _Inquiry_ are devoted to a condemnation of
excessive scepticism, or Pyrrhonism, with which Hume couples a
caricature of the Cartesian doubt; but, in the third part, a certain
"mitigated scepticism" is recommended and adopted, under the title of
"academical philosophy." After pointing out that a knowledge of the
infirmities of the human understanding, even in its most perfect state,
and when most accurate and cautious in its determinations, is the best
check upon the tendency to dogmatism, Hume continues:--
"Another species of _mitigated_ scepticism, which may be of
advantage to mankind, and which maybe the natural result of the
PYRRHONIAN doubts and scruples, is the limitation of our inquiries
to such subjects as are best adapted to the narrow capacity of
human understanding. The _imagination_ of man is naturally sublime,
delighted with whatever is remote and extraordinary, and running,
without control, into the most distant parts of space and time in
order to avoid the objects which custom has rendered too familiar
to it. A correct _judgment_ observes a contrary method, and,
avoiding all distant and high inquiries, confines itself to common
life, and to such subjects as fall under daily practice and
experience; leaving the more sublime topics to the embellishment of
poets and orators, or to the arts of priests and politicians. To
bring us to so salutary a determination, nothing can be more
serviceable than to be once thoroughly convinced of the force of
the PYRRHONIAN doubt, and of the impossibility that anything but
the strong power of natural instinct could free us from it. Those
who have a propensity to philosophy will still continue their
researches; because they reflect, that, besides the immediate
pleasure attending such an occupation, philosophical decisions are
nothing but the reflections of common life, methodised and
corrected. But they will never be tempted to go beyond common life,
so long as they consider the imperfection of those faculties which
they employ, their narrow reach, and their inaccurate operations.
While we cannot give a satisfactory reason why we believe, after a
thousand experiments, that a stone will fall or fire burn; can we
ever satisfy ourselves concerning any determination which we may
form with regard to the origin of worlds and the situation of
nature from and to eternity?"--(IV. pp. 189--90.)
But further, it is the business of criticism not only to keep watch over
the vagaries of philosophy, but to do the duty of police in the whole
world of thought. Wherever it espies sophistry or superstition they are
to be bidden to stand; nay, they are to be followed to their very dens
and there apprehended and exterminated, as Othello smothered Desdemona,
"else she'll betray more men."
Hume warms into eloquence as he sets forth the labours meet for the
strength and the courage of the Hercules of "mitigated scepticism."
"Here, indeed, lies the justest and most plausible objection
against a considerable part of metaphysics, that they are not
properly a science, but arise either from the fruitless efforts of
human vanity, which would penetrate into subjects utterly
inaccessible to the understanding, or from the craft of popular
superstitions, which, being unable to defend themselves on fair
ground, raise these entangling brambles to cover and protect their
weakness. Chased from the open country, these robbers fly into the
forest, and lie in wait to break in upon every unguarded avenue of
the mind and overwhelm it with religious fears and prejudices. The
stoutest antagonist, if he remits his watch a moment, is oppressed;
and many, through cowardice and folly, open the gates to the
enemies, and willingly receive them with reverence and submission
as their legal sovereigns.
"But is this a sufficient reason why philosophers should desist
from such researches and leave superstition still in possession of
her retreat? Is it not proper to draw an opposite conclusion, and
perceive the necessity of carrying the war into the most secret
recesses of the enemy?... The only method of freeing learning at
once from these abstruse questions, is to inquire seriously into
the nature of human understanding, and show, from an exact analysis
of its powers and capacity, that it is by no means fitted for such
remote and abstruse subjects. We must submit to this fatigue, in
order to live at ease ever after; and must cultivate true
metaphysics with some care, in order to destroy the false and
adulterated."--(IV. pp. 10, 11.)
Near a century and a half has elapsed since these brave words were
shaped by David Hume's pen; and the business of carrying the war into
the enemy's camp has gone on but slowly. Like other campaigns, it long
languished for want of a good base of operations. But since physical
science, in the course of the last fifty years, has brought to the front
an inexhaustible supply of heavy artillery of a new pattern, warranted
to drive solid bolts of fact through the thickest skulls, things are
looking better; though hardly more than the first faint flutterings of
the dawn of the happy day, when superstition and false metaphysics shall
be no more and reasonable folks may "live at ease," are as yet
discernible by the _enfants perdus_ of the outposts.
If, in thus conceiving the object and the limitations of philosophy,
Hume shows himself the spiritual child and continuator of the work of
Locke, he appears no less plainly as the parent of Kant and as the
protagonist of that more modern way of thinking, which has been called
"agnosticism," from its profession of an incapacity to discover the
indispensable conditions of either positive or negative knowledge, in
many propositions, respecting which, not only the vulgar, but
philosophers of the more sanguine sort, revel in the luxury of
unqualified assurance.
The aim of the _Kritik der reinen Vernunft_ is essentially the same as
that of the _Treatise of Human Nature_, by which indeed Kant was led to
develop that "critical philosophy" with which his name and fame are
indissolubly bound up: and, if the details of Kant's criticism differ
from those of Hume, they coincide with them in their main result, which
is the limitation of all knowledge of reality to the world of phenomena
revealed to us by experience.
The philosopher of Königsberg epitomises the philosopher of Ninewells
when he thus sums up the uses of philosophy:--
"The greatest and perhaps the sole use of all philosophy of pure
reason is, after all, merely negative, since it serves, not as an
organon for the enlargement [of knowledge], but as a discipline for
its delimitation; and instead of discovering truth, has only the
modest merit of preventing error."[17]
FOOTNOTES:
[14] In a letter to Hutcheson (September 17th, 1739) Hume
remarks:--"There are different ways of examining the mind as well as the
body. One may consider it either as an anatomist or as a painter: either
to discover its most secret springs and principles, or to describe the
grace and beauty of its actions;" and he proceeds to justify his own
mode of looking at the moral sentiments from the anatomist's point of
view.
[15] The manner in which Hume constantly refers to the results of the
observation of the contents and the processes of his own mind clearly
shows that he has here inadvertently overstated the case.
[16] Locke, _An Essay concerning Human Understanding_, Book I, chap. i,
§§ 4, 5, 6.
[17] _Kritik der reinen Vernunft._ Ed. Hartenstein, p. 256.