Chapter XVII: 1771-1776. Æt. 60-65 (1)

Hume's social character--His conversation--His disposition--
Traditional anecdotes regarding him--Correspondence--Letter
about the Pretender--Gilbert Stuart's quarrel with Dr. Henry--
Commercial State of Scotland--Letter to his nephew on
Republicanism--Smith's "Wealth of Nations"--Hume's illness--
His Will--Smith appointed Literary Executor--Strahan
substituted--His journey to England with Home--Prospects of
Death--Communications with his Friends and Relations--His
Death--General view of his influence on Thought and Action.

It is to the period from the year 1770 to his death, when he lived among his early friends in Edinburgh, that we ought to refer such traditional accounts of Hume's private life and social habits, as are not expressly connected with any known event in his history. He was, it is true, a distinguished man when he left his native city, in 1763. He had then, indeed, performed all the services which entitled him to immortality. But his foreign celebrity, and his official honours, had since added many ostensible glories to his name, and introduced him to a wider sphere of public notice than the substantial fruits of his genius and industry would have of themselves secured. When we remember that this was the most celebrated period of his life, and was the only one of which persons who are still, or who have lately been alive, could have any recollection, we naturally refer to it those traditional notices and incidents which have no distinct place.

The impression of Hume's character, acquired by one who has sought it in the tenor of his works, and the history of his literary career, is quite different from that which we derive from those who knew him, and were connected with the social circle in which he lived. The former is solitary, self-relying, and unimpressible even to sternness; the latter is good, easy, simple, social, and amenable to the sway of gentle impulses. These two representations are not without a harmony of principle. In all serious matters, in his projects of literary ambition, in the philosophy he taught mankind, in all that was to connect him with posterity and the intellectual destiny of the human race, he was resolute and uncompromising. But the exhibition of his strength was reserved for the arena of his triumphs; and in domestic and social intercourse he put aside his helmet, with its nodding plumes; feeling, that the intellectual exhibitions suited for _that_ sphere, should spring from whatever Nature had bestowed on him of sweet, and peaceful, and kind,--whatever was fitted to drive rancour or angry emulation from the bosom, and to render life delightful. Hence, to appear in the social circle as an intellectual gladiator, does not appear to have been his wish; he was content if he gave himself and others pleasure.

This view of his character is confirmed by Mackenzie, who, when a young man, enjoyed the high distinction of mingling in that group, of which he was the principal figure.

But the most illustrious of that circle was David Hume, who
had a sincere affection for his poetical namesake,--an
affection which was never abated during the life of that
celebrated man. The unfortunate nature of his opinions with
regard to the theoretical principles of moral and religious
truth, never influenced his regard for men who held very
opposite sentiments on those subjects; subjects which he
never, like some vain and shallow sceptics, introduced into
social discourse: On the contrary, when at any time the
conversation tended that way, he was desirous rather of
avoiding any serious discussion on matters which he wished to
confine to the graver and less dangerous consideration of
cool philosophy. He had, it might be said, in the language
which the Grecian historian applies to an illustrious Roman,
two minds; one which indulged in the metaphysical scepticism
which his genius could invent, but which it could not always
disentangle; another, simple, natural, and playful, which made
his conversation delightful to his friends, and even
frequently conciliated men whose principles of belief his
philosophical doubts, if they had not power to shake, had
grieved and offended. During the latter period of his life, I
was frequently in his company amidst persons of genuine piety,
and I never heard him venture a remark at which such men, or
ladies, still more susceptible than men, could take
offence.[439:1]

The late Lord Chief Commissioner Adam was another of the young men who were so fortunate as to be admitted to this circle. In a curious little collection of notices of eminent persons, called "The Gift of a Grandfather," privately printed at his own press at Blair-Adam, he says of Hume:

He was an intimate friend and acquaintance: and in all the
intercourse of life, and in all he said, and wrote, and did,
when not employed in his unnecessary metaphysical scepticism
(well named, by a friend of mine, intellectual rope-dancing,)
was innocent, playful, and moral, and most natural in his
conversation: equally pleasing and instructive to the young
and old of both sexes. . . . . . . . . .

His simple unaffected nature, and kindly disposition, exalted
him as much as the singular powers of his mind, and his
talents for expressing in writing what he contemplated--so
well described by Gibbon, as careless inimitable beauties of
style; which, when he read, he laid down the book in despair
that he should ever be able to imitate them.

I have before shown that he never introduced, in conversation,
his abstruse or sceptical speculations; that all his
sentiments were moral and natural and pleasing, and even
playful in the extreme. This is evinced by his letters, which
are perfect in their kind. He could bring himself down,
without effort, to the most familiar playfulness with young
persons, and particularly delighted in the conversation of
youthful females.

Mr. Hume was one of our constant visiters, making, as was the
custom of those days, tea-time the hour of calling. In the
summer he would often stroll to my father's beautiful villa of
North Merchiston. On one occasion--I was then a boy of
thirteen--he, missing my mother, made his tea-drinking good
with two or three young ladies of eighteen or nineteen, (his
acquaintances,) who were my mother's guests. I recollect
perfectly how agreeably he talked to them; and my recollection
has been rendered permanent by an occurrence which caused some
mirth and no mischief.

When the philosopher was amusing himself in conversation with
the young ladies, the chair began to give way under him, and
gradually brought him to the floor.

The damsels were both alarmed and amused, when Mr. Hume,
recovering himself, and getting upon his legs, said in his
broad Scotch tone, but in English words, (for he never used
Scotch,) "Young ladies, you must tell Mr. Adam to keep
stronger chairs for heavy philosophers."

This simple story is a good specimen of the man. He was above
all affectation. I was a companion of his eldest nephew, and
saw much of him when I was very young. As I grew up he used to
invite me to dinner, and I took great delight in his
conversation. I continued in and about Edinburgh long enough
to be able to relish it, and perhaps to join in it. On one
particular occasion I met him at tea at Professor Ferguson's;
it was at the period of my attending Dr. Blair's class on
rhetoric and belles lettres: their conversation became very
interesting to me, as it bore upon subjects which had an
affinity to what I was in the habit of hearing prelected upon.
They discussed particularly the Henriade of Voltaire; they
were not displeased with any want of brilliancy in the
versification, but they condemned the choice of the subject.
Mr. Hume said, "He should never choose for an epic poem
history, the truth of which is well known; for no fiction can
come up to the interest of the actual story and incidents of
the singular life of Henry IV.;" and Professor Ferguson added,
"What epic poet could improve upon the chivalrous life of
Chevalier Bayard, or on the event of his extraordinary
romantic death?"

"I always lived," says James Boswell, in a passage where he has to record some of his great patron's expressions of contempt and dislike, "on good terms with Mr. Hume, though I have frankly told him I was not clear that it was right of me to keep company with him; 'but,' said I, 'how much better are you than your books!' He was cheerful, obliging, and instructive. He was charitable to the poor;[441:1] and many an agreeable hour have I passed with him."

The testimony which Adam Smith bore to his character and disposition, in the letter which accompanies his autobiography, though so well known, must not here be omitted.

His temper seemed to be more happily balanced, if I may be
allowed such an expression, than that perhaps of any other man
I have ever known. Even in the lowest state of his fortune,
his great and necessary frugality never hindered him from
exercising, upon proper occasions, acts both of charity and
generosity. It was a frugality founded, not upon avarice, but
upon the love of independency. The extreme gentleness of his
nature never weakened either the firmness of his mind, or the
steadiness of his resolutions. His constant pleasantry was the
genuine effusion of good nature and good humour; tempered with
delicacy and modesty, and without even the slightest tincture
of malignity, so frequently the disagreeable source of what is
called wit in other men. It never was the meaning of his
raillery to mortify; and, therefore, far from offending, it
seldom failed to please and delight, even those who were the
objects of it. To his friends, who were frequently the objects
of it, there was not, perhaps, any one of all his great and
amiable qualities which contributed more to endear his
conversation. And that gaiety of temper, so agreeable in
society, but which is so often accompanied with frivolous and
superficial qualities, was, in him, certainly attended with
the most severe application, the most extensive learning, the
greatest depth of thought, and a capacity in every respect the
most comprehensive. Upon the whole, I have always considered
him, both in his lifetime, and since his death, as approaching
as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man,
as, perhaps, the nature of human frailty will permit.

Of any description of his character, his own account of it must form a material feature. The mere circumstance that a man should have thus written about himself, is a noticeable element in his mental history. He says, in his "own life:"

To conclude, historically, with my own character. I am, or
rather was, (for that is the style I must now use in speaking
of myself, which emboldens me the more to speak my
sentiments,)--I was, I say, a man of mild disposition, of
command of temper, of an open, social, and cheerful humour,
capable of attachment, but little susceptible of enmity, and
of great moderation in all my passions. Even my love of
literary fame, my ruling passion, never soured my temper,
notwithstanding my frequent disappointments. My company was
not unacceptable to the young and careless, as well as to the
studious and literary; and as I took a particular pleasure in
the company of modest women, I had no reason to be displeased
with the reception I met with from them. In a word, though
most men, any wise eminent, have found reason to complain of
calumny, I never was touched, or even attacked by her baleful
tooth: and though I wantonly exposed myself to the rage of
both civil and religious factions, they seemed to be disarmed,
in my behalf, of their wonted fury. My friends never had
occasion to vindicate any one circumstance of my character and
conduct: not but that the zealots, we may well suppose, would
have been glad to invent and propagate any story to my
disadvantage, but they could never find any which they thought
would wear the face of probability. I cannot say there is no
vanity in making this funeral oration of myself, but I hope
it is not a misplaced one; and this is a matter of fact which
is easily cleared and ascertained.

We have here a generous testimony to the tolerant spirit of his age: And yet his history and correspondence show, that he did not always feel himself safe from the influence of political or polemical resentment. He seemed, however, to take a pride in contrasting his own personal reception, by the world, with that of his writings; the one being all courtesy, the other all prejudice and dislike. A late eminent judge remembered meeting him at dinner with Black, Smith, and others, a few months before his death. Smith was speaking of the ingratitude, perversity, and intolerance of human nature. Hume said he differed with him. There was he, who had written on history, on politics, and on morals--some said on divinity; yet, in discussing these exciting topics, he had not made a single enemy; unless, indeed, all the Whigs, and all the Tories, and all the Christians! As, in his playful conversation among his intimate friends, he was inclined to indulge in practical humour, he made the general unpopularity of his opinions a common theme of amusement; picturesquely exaggerating the more offensive features, and exhibiting them as bugbears to frighten the well-meaning. Asking his friend, Clephane, to look for lodgings for him in London, he represents the person who is to inhabit them as "a sober, discreet, virtuous, frugal, regular, quiet, good-natured man--of a bad character." This "bad character," he seems to have occasionally used as a method of gently alarming innocent females. A lady, of strictly evangelical principles, walking home from church, through a crowded part of Edinburgh, was rather surprised by the zealous attention with which he proffered his arm. After they had passed through the crowd, he gave his reason for being so obsequious--it was, that she might be congratulated, by her friends, on having been seen walking on Sunday with "Hume the Deist." Mackenzie relates the following incident, which shows that he was not, however, always proof against the effect of jocular attacks on his principles by others.

In the same _bonhommie_, Mr. Hume bore with perfect good
nature the pleasantries which humorous deductions from his
theoretical scepticisms sometimes produced. Once, I have been
told, he was in a small degree ruffled by a witticism of Mr.
John Home's, who, though always pleasant, and often lively,
seldom produced what might be termed or repeated as wit. The
clerk of an eminent banker in Edinburgh, a young man of
irreproachable conduct, and much in the confidence of his
master, eloped with a considerable sum with which he had been
intrusted. The circumstance was mentioned at a dinner where
the two Humes, the historian and the poet, and several of
their usual friendly circle, were present. David Hume spoke of
it as a kind of moral problem, and wondered what could induce
a man of such character and habits as this clerk was said to
possess, thus to incur, for an inconsiderable sum, the guilt
and the infamy of such a transaction. "I can easily account
for it," said his friend, John Home, "from the nature of his
studies, and the kind of books which he was in the habit of
reading." "What were they?" said the philosopher. "Boston's
Fourfold State," rejoined the poet, "and Hume's Essays." David
was more hurt by the joke than was usual with him; probably
from the singular conjunction of the two works, which formed,
according to his friend's account, the library of the
unfortunate young man.[444:1]

As appropriate to his popularity among women and young people, the following anecdotes from the pen of one who has gained no little celebrity by her genius, cannot fail to give interest. They are contained in a letter by Lady Anne Lindsay, authoress of the song _Auld Robin Gray_, when she was a young lady living in her grandmother's house in Edinburgh, to her sister Margaret:--

Dinners go on as usual, which, being monopolized by the
divines, wits, and writers of the present day, are not
unjustly called the Dinners of the Eaterati, by Lord Kellie,
who laughs at his own pun till his face is purple.

Our friend, David Hume, along with his friend, Principal
Robertson, continue to maintain their ground at these
convivial meetings. To see the lion and the lamb lying down
together, the deist and the doctor, is extraordinary; it makes
one hope that some day Hume will say to him, "Thou almost
persuadest me to be a Christian." He is a constant morning
visiter of ours. My mother jested him lately on a circumstance
which had a good deal of character in it.

When we were very young girls, too young to remember the
scene, there happened to be a good many clever people at
Balcarres at Christmas; and as a gambol of the season, they
agreed to write each his own character, to give them to Hume,
and make him show them to my father, as extracts he had taken
from the pope's library at Rome.[445:1]

He did. My father said, "I don't know who the rest of your
fine fellows and charming princesses are, Hume; but if you had
not told me where you got _this_ character, I should have said
it was that of my wife."

"I was pleased," said my mother, "with my lord's answer, it
showed that at least I had been an honest woman."

"Hume's character of himself," said she, "was well drawn and
full of candour; he spoke of himself as he ought;" but added,
what surprised us all, that, "plain as his manners were, and
apparently careless of attention, vanity was his predominant
weakness. That vanity led him to publish his Essays, which he
grieved over; not that he had changed his opinions, but that
he thought he had injured society by disseminating them."

"Do you remember the sequel of that affair?" said Hume.

"Yes, I do," replied my mother, laughing: "you told me that,
although I thought your character a sincere one, it was not
so; there was a particular feature omitted that we were still
ignorant of, and that you would add it; like a fool I gave you
the manuscript, and you thrust it into the fire, adding, 'Oh,
what an idiot I had nearly proved myself to be, to leave such
a document in the hands of a parcel of women!'"

"Villain!" said my mother, laughing, and shaking her head at
him.

"Do you remember all this, my little woman?" said Hume to me.

"I was too young," said I, "to think of it at the time."

"How's this? have not you and I grown up together?"

I looked surprised.

"Yes," added he, "you have grown tall, and I have grown
broad."[446:1]

It may give us some farther idea of the refined simplicity that made his conversation agreeable to intellectual and right thinking women, to observe the manner in which he was addressed in the following very lively letter from Lady Elliot Murray, the wife of his friend, Sir Gilbert.

_Minto, 12th October, 1772._

I am resolved to take the reins of government into my own
hands. I don't know what has made me such a humble subservient
animal hitherto. I will dictate from this time forth. I will
give the law, and insist on an implicit obedience to my
superior wisdom; for am I not wiser than the wisest? did I not
foretell what has come to pass, that Mons. De Guigne would not
reach Edinburgh before the middle of this week? and did I not
prove my judgment surpassing that best of historians, who is a
mere pedler in understanding to me? Had he taken my advice, he
need not have jumbled himself seventy long miles over
mountains and plains in one day, and left a family who were
happy in his company, and exchanged the cheering blaze of a
good coal fire, for the dreary glimpses of a clouded moon.
But, however, he had the pleasure of gratifying a sense which
few people are much troubled with, a delicacy and ardour in
politeness; and as that is pretty near akin to benevolence, I
believe the indulgence of it may be a full recompense for the
trouble. But that last principle will lead you back the road
you went; for you left three ladies mourning for your
departure, and the good man of the house has been in a
vexation ever since, and can only be contented by a renewal of
your kind intentions towards us, of passing some quiet days
under our roof. Sir Gilbert came home from Jedburgh, and had
seen your brother there, who told him he would find you here
when he came back.

Enter Sir Gilbert. Where is Mr. Hume?--Answer: He is gone.
When did he come?--About one o'clock. And when did he go
away?--About five. What! have you quarrelled?--Yes. He and I
had some little difference about his _byeuks_, and I tried to
persuade him to burn them all, and write the other way; for,
as I said, I was sure he would be a shining light, and equal
the author of the "Pilgrim's Progress," or Mr. Ebenezer
Erskine, if he would only take the right side; and he flew in
a passion and went away in a huff! How could you think he
would be persuaded by you? Pooh! though I am but a simple
woman, before it be long he may be convinced I can see farther
into a millstone than he can do; and if he had taken my
advice, he might have rested his bones here this night in
quiet, in place of rumbling along in the dark in a post
chaise; and so in other matters too, I might perhaps do him a
service if he would be ruled by me. My dear, how can you be so
wild? And, my dear, where is the harm in telling one's mind,
when you think you can do good by it, to a good worthy
creature that is only a little mistaken or so? Good by it,
what a chimera! but come, there is some other reason than this
for his going away? None that I know; except a fine flim-flam
letter that he received from the French Ambassador, saying, he
expected to have the exquisite joy of beholding him at
Edinburgh to-morrow. Ah, now I understand it. But when does he
come back? Why he either comes back with Mons. De Guigne, or
after he has done the last duties to him at Edinburgh. So you
see, if you do not come, you will have brought me in for the
lesser excommunication; for you will have been the cause of my
deceiving my husband, and telling him a lie: although, for
that matter, neither you nor I _lukelly_ have any thing to
fear now-a-days, for either the greater or lesser
excommunication: For, as you justly observe, line 12, first
page of your letter, how are things changed! Old prejudices
are done away, but behold new ones arise; and the last errors
I am afraid are worse than the first: but, for my own part, I
would willingly have stood before the kirk-session, to have
shown any respect and regard to Mons{r.} L'Ambassador, who is
a man we all esteem in this house, and from whom we have
always received every possible civility, of which we retain a
grateful sense. But we perceive he is travelling in his public
capacity, and unless Sir Gilbert had had it in his power to go
to town to wait of him, and give him welcome from us to our
house, should it suit his conveniency to rest here upon his
road to England, we think any other invitation would appear
improper and abrupt; and as it so happens he cannot possibly
accomplish this at present, for we are to have company with us
most part of this week; and after that we go to our visits,
which will take us most of next week; and then we shall be
chez nous till our journey southwards, when we will require
from you to restore us your good society, else we shall verily
believe your flying visit was all a hum, and we won't be
_Humed_ so!

Bless me, I thought I was writing to my poor good Harry. How
does he do, sanctified soul? I have really hopes of you, now
that he and you are come hand to fist at a conversation; as he
tells me you are very often with him, and he really thinks you
are a saint in your nature; and I say that is a great pity,
for tho' I cannot deny the fact, I deplore it for the
consequences of it; but give my best wishes to him, and tell
him I long to hear of better prospects for him. I am really
confounded, when I think what a parcel of nonsense I have
wrote you: But learn to prefer the truth and sincerity of a
Scots wife, to the pernicious flattery of Les Dames
Françaises, of which you have had enough in your days; and so
it is fit you should be made to hear on the other side of the
head. And so wishing you all health and happiness, and
clearness of understanding, I remain, sir, your well wisher,
friend, and obedient servant,

AG. ELLIOT MURRAY.

P.S. I don't think the quiet Euthanasia of England will happen
in the year 1773, the mayoralty of J. W. Esq.

Hume had been for many years very corpulent. In a letter to Sir Harry Erskine, in 1756, he complains of this tendency to obesity. He occasionally alludes to his partiality for plain food, and to his being, to use his own sufficiently distinct expression, "a glutton, not an epicure."[449:1] We have found him telling Sir Gilbert Elliot, that for beef and cabbage, which he calls "a charming dish," and old mutton, no one could excel him; and that the Duc de Nivernois would become apprentice to his "lass," to learn how she made sheeps'-head broth. The zest with which he returned to the simple food of his native country, after the diplomatic feasts of Paris, seems to have been characteristic of all his habits. Burke is said to have affirmed, that, "in manners he was an easy unaffected man, previous to going to Paris as secretary to Lord Hertford; but that the adulation and caresses of the female wits of that capital had been too powerful even for a philosopher, and the result was, he returned a literary coxcomb." But the saying is not in harmony with the characteristics noted by others; and it is not quite clear that it was ever uttered by Burke.[450:1] All who speak as having been familiarly acquainted with him, concur in describing his manners as kind, simple, and polite. He had, as no one who has read his correspondence can fail to see, a good heart, ever ready to do benevolent acts where occasions for their performance came under his notice; and his exterior appearance and manner corresponded with this part of his character. One occasionally meets with venerable persons who remember having been dandled on Hume's knee, and the number of these reminiscences indicates that he was fond of children.[450:2]

The broad Scottish pronunciation, in which, by all accounts, he indulged, was a rather singular habit in one who desired to throw off all marks of provincialism. Yet we are told that in this rude Doric garb he clothed a very pure English colloquial style. We must take this statement with allowances: He never probably in his most finished writings completely divested his style of Scotticisms; and the English he spoke must have been pure only in comparison with the language of his fellow countrymen. But it may be remarked, that provincial broadness of pronunciation in Scotland is far from being incompatible with a very pure and unprovincial style of language. It has often been observed, that in those parts of the country where the speech of the uneducated is most peculiar, English, when spoken at all, is found in greatest purity. Thus, an inhabitant of the border districts makes his southern tones, though hardly distinguishable from those of his English neighbours, the vehicle of intense Scotticisms; while beyond the Grampians, the deep broad Teutonic pronunciation sometimes gives voice to uncontaminated English, as established by literary and colloquial rules.

Hume had very clearly two kinds of conversation, one for strangers and the world at large, the other for his chosen friends with whom he was at ease, and who could understand the good humour of that jocularity which a contemporary pronounced to have something in it perfectly infantine. His friend John Home was somewhat renowned for a warlike and romantic pomp in his ideas, like those which pervade his own tragic personations. In Hume's conversation we may believe that there was nothing either heroic or enthusiastic. A good humoured sly application of the fugitive subjects of discussion, to the peculiarities of the guests; an occasional vigorous and apt remark; a fantastic wit sometimes let loose to wander where it pleased, and choose whatever it thought fit for its object,--seem to have constituted the charm of his society. Yet the tone of his thoughts sometimes rose to enthusiasm. Thus the son of his valued friend Ferguson, remembers his father saying, that, one clear and beautiful night, when they were walking home together, Hume suddenly stopped, looked up to the starry sky, and said, more after the manner of "Hervey's Meditations" than the "Treatise of Human Nature," "Oh, Adam, can any one contemplate the wonders of that firmament, and not believe that there is a God!"

In a late collection of casual reminiscences, there is the following notice of his social habits.

"Major M----, with whom I dined yesterday, said that he had frequently met David Hume at their military mess in Scotland, and in other parties; that he was very polite and pleasant, though thoughtful in company, generally reclining his head upon his hand, as if in study; from which he would suddenly recover, however, with some indifferent question;[452:1] extremely inquisitive, but quite easy to himself and all around him. One is glad to catch personal notices, however slight, of memorable men and of speculative philosophers. I know no one so memorable as Hume. He seems to have so far outstripped the spirit of the times in his original and profound researches, that the world is in no condition at present to do justice to his merits."[452:2]

Those who know him solely by his philosophical reputation, will perhaps believe him to have been

Parcus deorum cultor et infrequens.

But this does not seem to have been the case, at least in his outward conduct. We find him, in writing home from France, casually mentioning his not having seen Elliot's sons "in church;" and on another occasion making a like allusion, indicative of his having been a pretty regular attendant at the ambassador's chapel. He is said to have been fond of Dr. Robertson's preaching, and not averse to that of his colleague and opponent, John Erskine. A lady, distinguished in literature, remembers that in a conversation with a respectable tradesman's wife, who had been a servant to Hume, she said that her master one day asked her very seriously, why she was never seen in church, where he had provided seats for all his household. At that time there were very few of the humbler classes in Edinburgh, who did not belong to the Church of Scotland. The woman's defence was, that she belonged to a dissenting congregation; and it was admitted to be quite satisfactory.

Social in his habits, and living the life of a wealthy bachelor, it was natural that Hume should connect himself with the societies, whether of a literary or convivial character, which brought the good company of Edinburgh together. He appears to have been a pretty active member of the Philosophical Society. In a letter, of which part has already been printed, and which would probably in strict chronological order belong to an earlier period, we find him with mild dignity enforcing the tolerance and philosophical equanimity, that ought to reign wherever men of different sentiments meet each other in intellectual discussion.

"_Tuesday Forenoon._

"SIR,--I am so great a lover of peace, that I am resolved to drop this matter altogether, and not to insert a syllable in the Preface, which can have a reference to your Essay. The truth is, I could take no revenge but such a one as would have been a great deal too cruel, and much exceeding the offence: for, though most authors think, that a contemptuous manner of treating their writings is but slightly revenged by hurting the personal character and the honour of their antagonists, I am very far from that opinion. Besides, I am as certain as I can be of any thing, (and I am not such a sceptic as you may perhaps imagine,) that your inserting such remarkable alterations in the printed copy, proceeded entirely from precipitancy and passion, not from any formed intention of deceiving the Society. I would not take advantage of such an incident to throw a slur on a man of merit, whom I esteem, though I might have reason to complain of him.

"When I am abused by such a fellow as Warburton, whom I neither know nor care for, I can laugh at him. But if Dr. Stewart approaches any way towards the same style of writing, I own it vexes me; because I conclude, that some unguarded circumstance of my conduct, though contrary to my intention, had given occasion to it.

"As to your situation with regard to Lord Kames, I am not so good a judge. I only think that you had so much the better of the argument, that you ought, upon that account, to have been more reserved in your expressions. All raillery ought to be avoided in philosophical argument, both because it is unphilosophical, and because it cannot but be offensive, let it be ever so gentle. What, then, must we think with regard to so many insinuations of irreligion, to which Lord Kames's paper gave not the least occasion? This spirit of the inquisitor is, in you, the effect of passion, and what a _cool_ moment would easily correct. But where it predominates in the character, what ravages has it committed on reason, virtue, truth, liberty, and every thing that is valuable among mankind! I shall now speak a word as to the justness of your censure with regard to myself after these remarks on the manner of it. I have no scruple of confessing my mistakes. You see I have owned that I think Lord Kames is mistaken in his argument; and I would sooner give up my _own_ cause than my _friend's_, if I thought that imputation of any consequence to a man's character. . . . .[455:1]

"As I am resolved to drop this matter entirely from the Preface, so I hope to persuade Lord Kames to be entirely silent with regard to it in our meeting. But in case I should not prevail, or if any body else start the subject, I think it better that some of your friends should be there, and be prepared to mollify the matter. If I durst pretend to advise, I should think it better you yourself were absent, unless you bring a greater spirit of composition than you express in your letter. I am persuaded that whatever a person of Mr. Monro's authority proposes will be agreed to: though I must beg leave to differ from his judgment in proposing to alter two pages. That chiefly removes the offence given to me; but what regards Lord Kames is so interwoven with the whole discourse, that there is not now any possibility of altering it. I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant," &c.

"P. S.--I hope you are very zealous in promoting the sale of Blacklock's Poems. I will never be reconciled to you unless you dispose of at least a score of them; and make your friends Sir John Maxwell and Lord Buchan pay a guinea a piece for their copy."[455:2]

The Poker Club, occasionally mentioned in these pages, seems to have had no other direct and specific object but the consumption of claret. The duty laid on that national wine, by "the English statesman," so pathetically commemorated by John Home, was a heavy blow and great discouragement to the club; but it rallied, and returned to its old esteemed beverage; and, indeed, it is a somewhat curious circumstance, that the national taste, created by the early intercourse with France and the consequent cheapness of French wines, still lingers in Scotland, where claret is much more generally consumed than in England. The club met in Fortune's tavern every Friday. It was the practice, at each meeting, to name two to be, what were called, "attendant members;" an arrangement, probably, designed to form a nucleus round which those whose attendance was uncertain, but who might drop in occasionally in the course of the evening, could form themselves; and to prevent any general desertion of the club, or, what might be, perhaps, more calamitous, the accident of any individual finding himself, for the night, its sole and solitary representative. We find Hume duly taking his turn in these attendances, and keeping the minutes according to rotation. On the 20th January, 1775, there is this emphatic entry, in his handwriting, "As Mr. Nairne was one of the attendant members, and neglected his duty, the club sent him the bill." The last meeting of the club, attended by Hume, appears to have been that of 8th December, 1775.[457:1]

It does not appear to be necessary that traditional anecdotes, such as the few we possess of Hume, must either be authenticated, or excluded from such a work as the present. It seems to entitle them to a place, that they were current among those who knew his character and habits. They thus afford all that is expected from such sources--passing fancy sketches, recognised as likenesses. Like several others that have appeared in these pages, as mere traditions, the following anecdote, which is eminently natural and curious, has no farther authentication than the general belief, in Edinburgh, that it "was like the man."

About the commencement of his last illness, a female member of the respectable Berean congregation, in Leith, presented herself at his door, with the information that she had been intrusted with a message to him from on High; and, becoming very urgent, succeeded in obtaining admission. "This is a very important matter, madam," said the philosopher, "we must take it with deliberation;--perhaps you had better get a little temporal refreshment before you begin. 'Lassie, bring this good lady a glass of wine.'" While she was preparing for the attack, Hume entered, good-humouredly, into conversation with her; and, discovering that her husband was a chandler, announced that he stood very much in want, at that time, of some temporal lights, and intrusted his guest with a very large order. This unexpected stroke of business at once absorbed all the good woman's thoughts; and, forgetting her important mission, she immediately trotted home to acquaint her husband with the good news.

There is an anecdote, which has appeared in numerous collections of such literary scraps, which represents him as having slipped into the boggy ground at the base of the castle rock, and called to a woman to help him out. In his unwieldy and infirm state, during his latter years, the accident is not improbable. The anecdote proceeds to say, that the female called on had great doubts of the propriety of helping "Hume, the Deist," out of that slough of despond into which it had pleased Providence to cast him. "But, my good woman, does not your religion as a Christian, teach you to do good, even to your enemies?" "That may be," said she, "but ye shallna get out o' that, till ye become a Christian yersell: and repeat the Lord's Prayer and the Belief," a feat which is said to have been very rapidly performed, much to the worthy catechist's astonishment.

Some of his witticisms have a tone of sarcastic severity, which he does not appear to have been disposed to suppress, even when women were the victims, if it was called forth by affectation or folly. To a celebrated "fine woman" of his day, who said she was often pestered to tell her age, and desired his opinion what answer she should give: he is reported to have said, "Madam, say you are not yet come to years of discretion." To the same lady, who, when crossing one of the ferries of the Firth of Forth, during a fresh breeze, was making a loud outcry about danger, he remarked, with much coolness, that they would probably soon be food for fishes; "and who," said the frightened belle, probably a little confused by the horrors of their position, "who will they begin with?" The answer she received was, "Why, madam, those of them that are gluttons will begin with me; those that are epicures with your ladyship."

We now resume Hume's correspondence. The letters of the last five years of his life, which have been preserved, are comparatively few; a circumstance which may be accounted for from his living, during that period, among his correspondents. On 28th January, 1772, he writes to Smith, that he would be glad to receive a visit from him; but that his house would be rather dull, from his sister having fever. In continuation he says:--

"I shall not take an excuse from your own state of health; which I suppose only a subterfuge invented by indolence and love of solitude. Indeed, my dear Smith, if you continue to hearken to complaints of this nature, you will cut yourself out entirely from human society, to the great loss of both parties.

"P.S.--I have not yet read 'Orlando Inamorato;' but intend soon to do it. I am now in a course of reading the 'Italian Historians,' and am confirmed in my former opinion, that that language has not produced one author who knew how to write elegant correct prose, though it contains several excellent poets."[459:1]

In the following letters, we find several details about that remarkable revulsion in the state of trade in Scotland, which, at the present day, is chiefly known by the quantity of decisions on points of bankruptcy law, with which it filled the Reports.

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH

"_St. Andrew's Square, 27th June, 1772._

"We are here in a very melancholy situation, continual bankruptcies, universal loss of credit, and endless suspicions. There are but two standing houses in this place--Mansfields and the Coutses--for I comprehend not Cummin, whose dealings were always very narrow. Mansfield has paid away £40,000 in a few days: but it is apprehended that neither he nor any of them can hold out till the end of next week, if no alteration happen. The case is little better in London. It is thought that Sir George Colebroke must soon stop; and even the Bank of England is not entirely free from suspicion. Those of Newcastle, Norwich, and Bristol, are said to be stopped. The Thistle Bank has been reported to be in the same condition. The Carron Company is reeling, which is one of the greatest calamities of the whole, as they gave employment to near ten thousand people. Do these events any wise affect your theory, or will it occasion the revisal of any chapters?

"Of all the sufferers, I am the most concerned for the Adams, particularly John. But their undertakings were so vast, that nothing could support them. They must dismiss three thousand workmen, who, comprehending the materials, must have expended above £100,000 a-year. They have great funds; but if these must be disposed of in a hurry, and to disadvantage, I am afraid the remainder will amount to little or nothing. People's [compa]ssion I see was exhausted for John, in his last calamity, and every body asks why he incurred any more hazards. But his friendship for his brothers is an apology; though I believe he has a projecting turn of his own. To me the scheme of the Adelphi always appeared so imprudent, that my wonder is how they could have gone on so long.

"If Sir George Colebroke stop, it will probably disconcert all the plans of our friends, as it will diminish their patron's influence; which is a new misfortune.

"On the whole, I believe that the check given to our exorbitant and ill grounded credit, will prove of advantage in the long run, as it will reduce people to more solid, and less sanguine projects, and, at the same time, introduce frugality among the merchants and manufacturers: what say you? Here is food for your speculation."[461:1]

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_St. Andrew's Square, 23d Nov. 1772._

"DEAR SMITH,--I should agree to your reasoning, if I could trust your resolution. Come hither for some weeks about Christmas; dissipate yourself a little; return to Kirkcaldy; finish your work before autumn: go to London; print it; return and settle in this town, which suits your studious independent turn, even better than London. Execute this plan faithfully, and I forgive you.

"Ferguson has returned, fat and fair, and in good humour, notwithstanding his disappointment, which I am glad of."[461:2]

In 1772, Macpherson published a quarto volume, called "An Introduction to the History of Great Britain and Ireland," of which Pinkerton, indignant at the Celtic spirit it displayed, said, "The empty vanity, shallow reading, vague assertion, and etymological nonsense, in this production, are truly risible." In a letter to Colonel Dow,[461:3] we find Hume criticising this book in a rather less emphatic manner.

"My compliments to Ossian. He has given us a work last winter, which contains a great deal of genius and good writing; but I cannot assent to his system. I must still adhere to the common opinion regarding our origin, or rather your origin; for we are all plainly Danes or Saxons in the low countries. But these subjects I reserve to a discussion over an evening fire on your return. I charge you not to think of settling in London, till you have first seen our New Town, which exceeds any thing you have seen in any part of the world."[462:1]

With the following letter, many readers may perhaps be familiar, but to those who have not already seen it, the curious historical incident it details, will give it much interest.

HUME _to_ SIR JOHN PRINGLE.

_St. Andrew's Square, Edinburgh,
Feb. 10, 1773._

MY DEAR SIR,--That the present Pretender was in London, in the
year 1753, I know with the greatest certainty; because I had
it from Lord Marischal, who said, it consisted with his
certain knowledge. Two or three days after his lordship gave
me this information, he told me, that the evening before, he
had learned several curious particulars from a lady, (who I
imagined to be Lady Primrose,) though my lord refused to name
her. The Pretender came to her house in the evening, without
giving her any preparatory information; and entered the room
when she had a pretty large company with her, and was herself
playing at cards. He was announced by the servant under
another name. She thought the cards would have dropped from
her hands on seeing him. But she had presence enough of mind,
to call him by the name he assumed; to ask him when he came to
England, and how long he intended to stay there. After he and
all the company went away, the servants remarked how
wonderfully like the strange gentleman was to the prince's
picture, which hung on the chimney-piece, in the very room in
which he entered. My lord added, (I think from the authority
of the same lady,) that he used so little precaution, that he
went abroad openly in day-light, in his own dress; only laying
aside his blue riband and star; walked once through St.
James's, and took a turn in the Mall.

About five years ago, I told this story to Lord Holderness,
who was secretary of state in the year 1753; and I added, that
I supposed this piece of intelligence had at that time escaped
his lordship. "By no means," said he, "and who do you think
first told it me? it was the king himself, who subjoined, 'And
what do you think, my lord, I should do with him?'" Lord
Holderness owned that he was puzzled how to reply; for if he
declared his real sentiments, they might savour of
indifference to the royal family. The king perceived his
embarrassment, and extricated him from it, by adding, "My
lord, I shall just do nothing at all; and when he is tired of
England, he will go abroad again." I think this story, for the
honour of the late king, ought to be more generally known.

But what will surprise you more, Lord Marischal, a few days
after the coronation of the present king, told me, that he
believed the young Pretender was at that time in London; or at
least had been so very lately, and had come over to see the
show of the coronation, and had actually seen it. I asked my
lord the reason for this strange fact. "Why," says he, "a
gentleman told me so that saw him there; and that he even
spoke to him, and whispered in his ears these words: 'Your
royal highness is the last of all mortals whom I should expect
to see here.'--'It was curiosity that led me,' said the other;
'but I assure you,' added he, 'that the person who is the
object of all this pomp and magnificence is the man I envy the
least.'" You see this story is so near traced from the
fountain head, as to wear a great face of probability. Query,
What if the Pretender had taken up Dymock's gauntlet? I find
that the Pretender's visit in England, in the year 1753, was
known to all the Jacobites; and some of them have assured me,
that he took the opportunity of formally renouncing the Roman
Catholic religion, under his own name of Charles Stuart, in
the new church in the Strand; and that this is the reason of
the bad treatment he met with at the court of Rome. I own that
I am a sceptic with regard to the last particulars.

Lord Marischal had a very bad opinion of this unfortunate
prince; and thought there was no vice so mean or atrocious of
which he was not capable; of which he gave me several
instances. My lord, though a man of great honour, may be
thought a discontented courtier; but what quite confounded me
in the idea of that prince, was a conversation I had with
Helvétius at Paris, which, I believe, I have told you. In case
I have not, I shall mention a few particulars. That gentleman
told me, that he had no acquaintance with the Pretender; but,
some time after that prince was chased out of France, "a
letter," said he, "was brought me from him, in which he told
me that the necessity of his affairs obliged him to be at
Paris; and, as he knew me, by character, to be a man of the
greatest probity and honour in France, he would trust himself
to me, if I would promise to conceal and protect him. I own,"
added Helvétius to me, "although I knew the danger to be
greater of harbouring him at Paris than at London; and
although I thought the family of Hanover not only the lawful
sovereigns in England, but the only lawful sovereigns in
Europe, as having the full and free consent of the people; yet
was I such a dupe to his flattery, that I invited him to my
house; concealed him there, going and coming, near two years;
had all his correspondence pass through my hands; met with his
partisans upon Pont Neuf; and found, at last, that I had
incurred all this danger and trouble for the most unworthy of
all mortals; insomuch that I have been assured, when he went
down to Nantz, to embark on his expedition to Scotland, he
took fright and refused to go on board; and his attendants,
thinking the matter gone too far, and that they would be
affronted for his cowardice, carried him, in the night time,
into the ship, pieds et mains liés." I asked him, if he meant
literally? "Yes," said he, "literally. They tied him and
carried him by main force." What think you now of this hero
and conqueror?

Both Lord Marischal and Helvétius agree, that with all this
strange character, he was no bigot; but rather had learned,
from the philosophers at Paris, to affect a contempt of all
religion. You must know that both these persons thought they
were ascribing to him an excellent quality. Indeed, both of
them used to laugh at me for my narrow way of thinking in
these particulars.[465:1] However, my dear Sir John, I hope
you will do me the justice to acquit me.

I doubt not but these circumstances will appear curious to
Lord Hardwicke, to whom you will please to present my
respects. I suppose his lordship will think this unaccountable
mixture of temerity and timidity, in the same character, not a
little singular. I am yours very sincerely.[465:2]