Chapter III: Preface (1)

It ought to be no matter of offence, that in this volume, as
well as in the foregoing, the mischiefs which arise from the
abuses of religion are so often mentioned, while so little in
comparison is said of the salutary consequences which result
from true and genuine piety. The proper office of religion is
to reform men's lives, to purify their hearts, to enforce all
moral duties, and to secure obedience to the laws and civil
magistrate. While it pursues these useful purposes, its
operations, though infinitely valuable, are secret and silent,
and seldom come under the cognisance of history. That
adulterate species of it alone, which inflames faction,
animates sedition, and prompts rebellion, distinguishes itself
in the open theatre of the world. Those, therefore, who
attempt to draw inferences disadvantageous to religion from
the abuses of it mentioned by historians, proceed upon a very
gross, and a very obvious fallacy; for, besides that every
thing is liable to abuse, and the best things the most so, the
beneficent influence of religion is not to be sought for in
history. That principle is always the more pure and genuine,
the less figure it makes in the annals of war, politics,
intrigues, and revolutions, quarrels, and convulsions; which
it is the business of an historian to record and transmit to
posterity.

It ought as little to be matter of offence, that no religious
sect is mentioned in this work without being exposed sometimes
to some note of blame and disapprobation. The frailties of
our nature mingle themselves with every thing in which we
are employed, and no human institutions will ever reach
perfection, the idea of an infinite mind. The author of the
universe seems at first sight to require a worship absolutely
pure, simple, unadorned, without rites, institutions,
ceremonies; even without temples, priests, or verbal prayer
and supplication. Yet has this species of devotion been often
found to degenerate into the most dangerous fanaticism. When
we have recourse to the aid of the senses and imagination, in
order to adapt our religion in some degree to human infirmity,
it is very difficult, and almost impossible, to prevent
altogether the intrusion of superstition, or keep men from
laying too great stress on the ceremonial and ornamental parts
of their worship. Of all the sects into which Christians have
been divided, the Church of England seems to have chosen the
most happy medium; yet it will undoubtedly be allowed, that
during the age of which these volumes treat, there was a
tincture of superstition in the partisans of the hierarchy, as
well as a strong mixture of enthusiasm in their antagonists.
But it is the nature of the latter principle soon to evaporate
and decay. A spirit of moderation usually succeeds in a little
to the fervours of zeal; and it must be acknowledged, to the
honour of the present Presbyterians, Independents, and other
sectaries of this island, that they resemble in little more
than in name their predecessors, who flourished during the
civil wars, and who were the authors of such disorders. It
would appear ridiculous in the eyes of the judicious part of
mankind, to pretend that even the first reformers, in most
countries of Europe, did not carry matters to a most violent
extreme, and were not on many occasions liable to the
imputation of fanaticism. Not to mention that uncharitable
spirit which accompanies zealots of all kinds, and which led
the early reformers, almost universally, to inflict upon the
Catholics, and on all who differed from them, the same rigours
of which they themselves so loudly complained.

These hints, however obvious, the author thought proper to
suggest, with regard to the free and impartial manner in which
he has treated religious controversy. As to the civil and
political part of his performance, he scorns to suggest any
apology, where he thinks himself entitled to approbation. To
be above the temptation of interest is a species of virtue,
which we do not find by experience to be very common; but to
neglect at the same time all popular and vulgar applause, is
an enterprise much more rare and arduous. Whoever, in a
factious nation, pays court to neither party, must expect that
justice will be done him by time only, perhaps only by a
distant posterity.[13:1]

The "Natural History of Religion" above referred to, remarkable even among its author's other works, for the breadth of its research, and its apt union of philosophy with historical detail, was published in 1757, along with three other essays;[13:2] and a curious incident connected with this publication has now to be revealed. In 1783, a work was published in London, called "Essays on Suicide and the Immortality of the Soul, ascribed to the late David Hume, Esq., never before published; with remarks, intended as an antidote to the poison contained in these performances, by the Editor." The editor and his antidote are now both forgotten: but the style of Hume and his method of thinking were at once recognised in these essays, and they have been incorporated with the general edition of his works. If any doubt attached to the authorship, it would be cleared up by some allusions in his subsequent correspondence, where we shall find him naturally expressing alarm at the circumstance of Wilkes having, through the negligence of Millar, had possession of a copy containing the two suppressed essays. Many copies, indeed, of the first edition of the dissertations bear marks of having been mutilated.[14:1] That Hume wrote these essays, and intended to publish them, is thus an incident in his life which ought not to be passed over; but it is also part of his history, that he repented of the act at the last available moment, and suppressed the publication.

That after the ghastly scene which he witnessed twenty years earlier,[14:2] he should have written on suicide with his usual philosophical indifference, and contempt for the prevalent sentiments and feelings of mankind, is a remarkable proof how little he was liable to ordinary imaginative impressions; how completely he was free of subjection to those

"lords of the visionary eye, whose lid
Once raised remains aghast, and will not fall."

It may safely be pronounced, that had he widened the circle of his utilitarian theory, and embraced within it, as he might have done, Hutcheson's theory of universal benevolence, he never would have palliated self-slaughter. He looked at it only in relation to the person who perpetrates the act. The utilitarian principle, however, should have suggested to him the misery caused to surviving relatives by one such deed, the horrible uncertainty that must pervade any society where it is common; and he would have felt that no single life can be so dreadful a burden to the owner as to justify him in causing such an amount of evil to the rest of the world, as he would produce by casting it away. The result of modern reading and inquiry into vital statistics, is to show that the desire of longevity, which the author of our being has implanted in all bosoms, is an adaptation to universal utility; because it is from premature deaths, produced by violence or disease, that communities are burdened with those unproductive members of society, which in a healthy and long-lived community, receive domestic support from the productive members.[15:1]

The reasonings of an enthusiast have generally more plausibility than those of a philosopher who has gone astray from his own theory; for the straying philosopher speaks like one who has misgivings; while the enthusiast never doubts that he is in the right, and urges his opinions with a corresponding confidence and sincerity. Thus the justification of suicide which Rousseau puts into a letter from St. Preux to Lord Edward Bomston, is a far more attractive vindication than that which Hume had intended to publish.

This was not the only suppression connected with the publication of the Dissertations. As at first printed, they were preceded by an affectionate and laudatory dedication to John Home. Before the edition was published, this dedication was suppressed; because Hume thought it might injure his friend, in the estimation of his brethren of the church. Before the edition was sold, however, Hume desired the dedication to be restored. This step was probably owing to Home having intimated to him his design of resigning his charge as minister of Athelstaneford, which he did in June, 1757. This not only removed the objection to the dedication, but as it severed the dramatic martyr from his professional brethren, it made him more dependant on the sympathy and suffrages of other friends, and rendered Hume's testimony to his merits more valuable.

He thus writes on this subject to Smith.

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

[16:1]"DEAR SMITH,--The dedication to John Home, you have probably seen; for I find it has been inserted in some of the weekly papers, both here and in London. Some of my friends thought it was indiscreet in me to make myself responsible to the public, for the productions of another. But the author had lain under such singular and unaccountable obstructions in his road to fame, that I thought it incumbent on his wellwishers to go as much out of the common road to assist him. I believe the composition of the dedication will be esteemed very prudent, and not inelegant.

"I can now give you the satisfaction of hearing that the play, though not near so well acted in Covent Garden as in this place, is likely to be very successful. Its great intrinsic merit breaks through all obstacles. When it shall be printed, (which will be soon,) I am persuaded it will be esteemed the best, and by French critics the only tragedy of our language! This encouragement will no doubt engage the author to go on in the same career. He meets with great countenance in London, and, I hope, will soon be rendered independent in his fortune.

"Did you ever hear of such madness and folly as our clergy have lately fallen into? For my part, I expect that the next Assembly will very solemnly pronounce the sentence of excommunication against me; but I do not apprehend it to be a matter of any consequence; what do you think?

"I am somewhat idle at present, and somewhat undetermined as to my next undertaking. Shall I go backwards or forwards in my History? I think you used to tell me, that you approved more of my going backwards. The other would be the more popular subject; but I am afraid that I shall not find materials sufficient to ascertain the truth--at least, without settling in London, which, I own, I have some reluctance to. I am settled here very much to my mind; and would not wish, at my years, to change the place of my abode.

"I have just now received a copy of 'Douglas' from London; it will instantly be put in the press. I hope to be able to send you a copy in the same parcel with the dedication."[18:1]

HUME _to_ ANDREW MILLAR.

"_Edinburgh, 20th January, 1757._

"DEAR SIR,--The dedication of my Dissertations to Mr. Hume[18:2] was shown to some of his friends here, men of very good sense, who were seized with an apprehension that it would hurt that party in the church, with which he had always been connected, and would involve him, and them of consequence, in the suspicion of infidelity. Neither he nor I were in the least affected with their panic; but to satisfy them, we agreed to stand by the arbitration of one person, of great rank and of known prudence; and I promised them to write to you to suspend the publication for one post, in case you should have resolved to publish it presently. Next post you shall be sure to hear from me; and if we be obliged to suppress it, you'll be pleased to place the charges of print and paper to my account. I indorse this day your two bills to Mr. Alexander Cunningham. I am," &c.

Early in 1757, Hume resigned his office of librarian of the Advocates' Library. As a verbal intimation of his wishing to leave this situation was not considered satisfactory, he favoured his learned employers with the following laconic letter:--

"_Edinburgh, January 8, 1757._

"SIR,--A few days ago, I sent the Faculty a verbal resignation; but as I am told that it is expected I should give a resignation under my hand, and as I am very desirous to deliver over the charge of the library as soon as possible, I have been induced to write you at present, and beg of you to inform the Faculty, that they may choose me a successor whenever they think proper. I am, sir, your most humble servant.[19:1]

"_To Mr. Charles Binning, Vice-Dean of the Faculty of Advocates._"

HUME _to_ WILLIAM MURE _of Caldwell_.

"DEAR MURE,--I hope you do not think yourself obliged, by saying civil things, to make atonement for the too homely truths, which you told me formerly. I will not believe so. I take for granted, that you are equally sincere in both: though I must own that I think my first volume a great deal better than the second. The subject admitted of more eloquence, and of greater nicety of reasoning, and more acute distinctions. The opposition, I may say the rage, with which it was received by the public, I must confess, did not a little surprise me. Whatever knowledge I pretend to in history, and human affairs, I had not so bad an opinion of men as to expect that candour, disinterestedness, and humanity, could entitle me to that treatment. Yet such was my fate. After a long interval, I at last collected so much courage, as to renew my application to the second volume, though with infinite disgust and reluctance; and I am sensible that, in many passages of it, there are great signs of that disposition, and that my usual fire does not every where appear. At other times, I excited myself, and perhaps succeeded better.

Exul eram; requiesque mihi, non fama, petita est;
Mens intenta suis, ne foret usque malis.
Nam simul ac mea caluerant pectora musae,
Altior humano spiritus ille malo est.[20:1]

"I leave you to judge whether your letter came in a very seasonable time. I own that I had the weakness to be affected by it, when I found that a person, whose judgment I very much valued, could tell me, though I was not asking his opinion----But I will not proceed any farther. The matter gave me uneasiness at the time, though without the least resentment. At present the uneasiness is gone; and all my usual friendship, confirmed by years and long acquaintance, still remains.

"Pray, whether do you pity or blame me most, with regard to this dedication of my Dissertations to my friend, the poet? I am sure I never executed any thing which was either more elegant in the composition, or more generous in the intention; yet such an alarm seized some fools here, (men of very good sense, but fools in that particular,) that they assailed both him and me with the utmost violence; and engaged us to change our intention. I wrote to Millar to suppress that dedication; two posts after, I retracted that order. Can any thing be more unlucky than that, in the interval of these four days, he should have opened his sale, and disposed of eight hundred copies, without that dedication, whence, I imagined, my friend would reap some advantage, and myself so much honour? I have not been so heartily vexed at any accident of a long time. However, I have insisted that the dedication shall still be published.

"I am a little uncertain what work I shall next undertake; for I do not care to be long idle. I think you seem to approve of my going forward: and I am sensible that the subject is much more interesting to us, and even will be so to posterity, than any other I could choose: but can I hope that there are materials for composing a just and sure history of it? I am afraid not. However, I shall examine the matter. I fancy it will be requisite for me to take a journey to London, and settle there for some time, in order to gather such materials as are not to be found in print. But, if I should go backwards, and write the History of England from the accession of Henry the Seventh, I might remain where I am; and I own to you, at my time of life, these changes of habitation are not agreeable, even though the place be better to which one removes.

"I am sorry my fair cousin does not find London so agreeable as, perhaps, she expected. She must not judge by one winter. It will improve against next winter, and appear still better the winter after that. Please make my compliments to her, and tell her that she must not be discouraged. By the by, Mrs. Binnie tells me that she writes her a very different account of matters, so that I find my cousin is a hypocrite.

"I shall make use of your criticisms, and wish there had been more of them. That practice of doubling the genitive is certainly very barbarous, and I carefully avoided it in the first volume; but I find it so universal a practice, both in writing and speaking, that I thought it better to comply with it, and have even changed all the passages in the first volume, in conformity to use. All languages contain solecisms of that kind.

"Please make my compliments to Sir Harry Erskine, and tell him that I have executed what I proposed. I am," &c.[22:1]

The following letter shows that he did not long remain idle, or undecided in his historical projects:--

HUME _to_ ANDREW MILLAR.

"_Edinburgh, 20th May, 1757._

"I have already begun, and am a little advanced in a third volume of History. I do not preclude myself from the view of going forward to the period after the Revolution; but, at present, I begin with the reign of Henry the Seventh. It is properly at that period modern history commences. America was discovered; commerce extended; the arts cultivated; printing invented; religion reformed, and all the governments of Europe almost changed. I wish, therefore, I had begun here at first. I should have obviated many objections that were made to the other volumes. I shall be considerably advanced in this volume before I be in London.

"I come now to speak to you of an affair which gives me uneasiness, and which I mention with reluctance. I am told that one Dr. Brown has published a book in London, where there is a note containing personal reflections on me, for which he quotes a letter I wrote to you.[23:1] What sort of behaviour this is, to make use of a private letter, without the permission of the person to whom it was addressed, is easily conceived; but how he came to see any of my letters, I cannot imagine; nor what I wrote, that could give him any handle for his calumny. All I can recollect of the matter is this, that above two years ago, when Bailie Hamilton was in London, he wrote me, that the stop in the sale of my History proceeded from some strokes of irreligion, which had raised the cry of the clergy against me. This gave me occasion to remark to you, that the Bailie's complaint must have proceeded from his own misconduct; that the cause he assigned could never have produced that effect; that it was rather likely to increase the sale, according to all past experience; that you had offered (as I heard) a large sum for Bolingbroke's Works, trusting to this consequence; and that the strokes complained of were so few, and of such small importance, that, if any ill effects could have been apprehended from them, they might easily have been retrenched. As far as I can recollect, this was the purport of my letter;[24:1] but I must beg you, that you would cause it to be transcribed, and send me a copy of it, for I find by John Hume that you have it still by you. I doubt not but I could easily refute Dr. Brown; but as I had taken a resolution never to have the least altercation with these fellows, I shall not readily be brought to pay any attention to him; and I cannot but be displeased that your inadvertence or indiscretion (for I cannot give it a better name) should have brought me to this dilemma. I fancy Brown will find it a difficult matter to persuade the public that I do not speak my sentiments in every subject I handle, and that I have any view to any interest whatsoever. I leave that to him and his gang: for he is a flatterer, as I am told, of that low fellow, Warburton; and any thing so low as Warburton, or his flatterers, I should certainly be ashamed to engage with. I am, &c.

"P.S. Since you are acquainted with Dr. Brown, I must beg of you to read this letter to him; for it is probably, or indeed certainly, all the answer I shall ever deign to give him."[25:1]

The reader will feel interested in the sketch, by the pen of Hume, of an eminent contemporary--his friend Wilkie--in the following letter.

HUME _to_ GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto_.

"_Edinburgh, 3d July, 1757._

"DEAR SIR,--To show you that I am not such an affecter of singularity as to entertain prejudices against ministers of state,[25:2] I am resolved to congratulate you on your return to power, and to express my wishes, that, both for your sake and the public's, your ministry, and that of your friends, may be more durable than it was before. We even hope it will, though the strange motley composition which it consists of, gives us some apprehensions. However, we are glad to find, from past experience, that you can neither rise nor fall, without credit and reputation. You know that, according to the whimsical way in this country, it is more difficult to rise than fall with reputation.

"I suppose that, by this time, you have undoubtedly read and admired the wonderful production of the Epigoniad, and that you have so much love for arts, and for your native country, as to be very industrious in propagating the fame of it. It is certainly a most singular production, full of sublimity and genius, adorned by a noble, harmonious, forcible, and even correct versification. We generally think the story deficient and uninteresting; but perhaps the new fancy of crossing the invention of all modern romance-writers may make some atonement, and even bestow an air of novelty on the imitation of Homer. As I cannot but hope that this work will soon become the subject of conversation in London, I shall take this opportunity of supplying you with some anecdotes with regard to the author, besides such as you already know,--of his being a very worthy and a very entertaining man, adorned with all that simplicity of manners, so common to great men, and even with some of that rusticity and negligence which serve to abate that envy to which they are so much exposed.

"You know he is a farmer's son, in the neighbourhood of this town, where there are a great number of pigeon-houses. The farmers are very much infested with the pigeons, and Wilkie's father planted him often as a scarecrow (an office for which he is well qualified) in the midst of his fields of wheat. It was in this situation that he confessed he first conceived the design of his epic poem, and even executed part of it. He carried out his Homer with him, together with a table, and pen and ink, and a great rusty gun. He composed and wrote two or three lines, till a flock of pigeons settled in the field, then rose up, ran towards them, and fired at them; returned again to his former station, and added a rhyme or two more, till he met with a fresh interruption.

"Two or three years ago, Jemmy Russel put a very pleasant trick on an English physician, one Dr. Roebuck, who was travelling in this country. Russel carried him out one day on horseback to see the outlets of the town, and purposely led him by Wilkie's farm. He saw the bard at a small distance, sowing his corn, with a sheet about him, all besmeared with dirt and sweat, with a coat and visage entirely proportioned to his occupation. Russel says to his companion, 'Here is a fellow, a peasant, with whom I have some business: let us call him.' He made a sign, and Wilkie came to them: some questions were asked him with regard to the season, to his farm and husbandry, which he readily answered; but soon took an opportunity of digressing to the Greek poets, and enlarging on that branch of literature. Dr. Roebuck, who had scarce understood his rustic English, or rather his broad Scotch, immediately comprehended him, for his Greek was admirable; and on leaving him, he could not forbear expressing the highest admiration to Russel, that a clown, a rustic, a mere hind, such as he saw this fellow was, should be possessed of so much erudition. 'Is it usual,' says he, 'for your peasants in Scotland to read the Greek poets?'--'O Yes,' replies Russel, very coolly, 'we have long winter evenings; and in what can they employ themselves better, than in reading the Greek poets?' Roebuck left the country in a full persuasion that there are at least a dozen farmers in every parish who read Homer, Hesiod, and Sophocles, every winter-evening, to their families; and, if ever he writes an account of his travels, it is likely he will not omit so curious a circumstance.

"Wilkie is now a settled minister at Ratho, within four miles of the town.[27:1] He possesses about £80 or £90 a-year, which he esteems exorbitant riches. Formerly, when he had only £20, as helper, he said that he could not conceive what article, either of human convenience or pleasure he was deficient in, nor what any man could mean by desiring more money. He possesses several branches of erudition, besides the Greek poetry; and, particularly, is a very profound geometrician, a science commonly very incompatible with the lively imagination of a poet. He has even made some new discoveries in that science; and he told me, that, when a young man, he threw cross and pile, whether he should devote himself chiefly to mathematics or to poetry, and fears that rather he crossed the bent of his genius in taking to the latter. Yet this man, who has composed the second epic poem in our language! understands so little of orthography, that, regularly through the whole poem, he spelled the word yield in this manner, 'ealde;' and I had great difficulty to convince him of his mistake.

"I fancy our friend, Robertson, will be able to publish his History next winter. You are sufficiently acquainted with the merit of this work; and really it is admirable how many men of genius this country produces at present. Is it not strange that, at a time when we have lost our princes, our parliaments, our independent government,--even the presence of our chief nobility; are unhappy, in our accent and pronunciation; speak a very corrupt dialect of the tongue we make use of,--is it not strange, I say, that, in these circumstances, we should really be the people most distinguished for literature in Europe?

"Having spoke so much to Mr. Elliot, the man of letters, you must now allow me to say a few words to Mr. Elliot, the lord of the admiralty. There is a cousin-german of mine, Alexander Edgar, who is midshipman in the Vestal, off Harwich, and has passed his trials, above four months ago, for a lieutenantcy. He always behaved well in all his service, which has been very long; and, almost from his infancy, he has had the good-will, and even friendship, of all his captains; is modest, sober, frugal, and attentive, and very deserving of promotion. I recommended him to Mr. Oswald, who always protected him, but can no longer be of service to him. He is of a very good family, though his father spent his estate and died a bankrupt; and the poor lad has now scarce any other friends than what I can procure him: permit me the freedom of recommending him to your protection. If I did not think him worthy of it, I should not venture to do so, notwithstanding his near relationship to me. I think I ought to make some apologies for this liberty I use with you; but I think it would be wronging our friendship to make too many. I am, dear sir, your most obedient humble servant."[29:1]

Wilkie's Epigoniad, of which few ordinary readers now know more than the name, if even that be very generally remembered south of the Tweed, inspired many zealous Scotsmen of the day, with the belief that their country had, at last, produced a great epic poet: but the national feeling was not responded to in England.[29:2]

Finding that the Epigoniad was attacked by the English critics, Hume was determined to be the champion of his countryman's fame against all comers; and accordingly addressed a letter to the editor of _The Critical Review_, containing a long complimentary criticism, in which he says,--

There remained a tradition among the Greeks, that Homer had
taken this second siege of Thebes for the subject of a poem,
which is lost; and our author seems to have pleased himself
with the thoughts of reviving the work, as well as of treading
in the footsteps of his favourite author. The actors are
mostly the same with those of the Iliad; Diomede is the hero;
Ulysses, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Nestor, Idomeneus, Merion, even
Thersites, all appear in different passages of the poem; and
act parts suitable to the lively characters drawn of them by
that great master. The whole turn of this new poem would
almost lead us to imagine, that the Scottish bard had found
the lost manuscript of that father of poetry, and had made a
faithful translation of it into English. Longinus imagines,
that the Odyssey was executed by Homer in his old age; we
shall allow the Iliad to be the work of his middle age; and we
shall suppose that the Epigoniad was the essay of his youth,
where his noble and sublime genius breaks forth by frequent
intervals, and gives strong symptoms of that constant flame
which distinguished its meridian. . . .

The story of a poem, whatever may be imagined, is the least
essential part of it; the force of the versification, the
vivacity of the images, the justness of the descriptions, the
natural play of the passions, are the chief circumstances
which distinguish the great poet from the prosaic novelist,
and give him so high a rank among the heroes in literature;
and I will venture to affirm, that all these advantages,
especially the three former, are to be found, in an eminent
degree, in the Epigoniad. The author, inspired with the true
genius of Greece, and smit with the most profound veneration
for Homer, disdains all frivolous ornaments; and relying
entirely on his sublime imagination, and his nervous and
harmonious expression, has ventured to present to his reader
the naked beauties of nature, and challenges for his partisans
all the admirers of genuine antiquity.[31:1]

In his conduct on this occasion, Hume exhibited strong national partiality. It may seem at first sight at variance with some of his other characteristics; but it is undoubtedly true, that Hume was imbued with an intense spirit of nationality. It was a nationality, however, of a peculiar and restricted character. He cared little about the heroism of his country, or even its struggles for independence: Wallace, Bruce, and the Black Douglas, were, in his eyes, less interesting than Ulysses or Æneas,

----carent quia vate sacro.

But in that arena which he thought the greatest, in the theatre where intellect exhibits her might, he panted to see his country first and greatest. No Scotsman could write a book of respectable talent without calling forth his loud and warm eulogiums. Wilkie was to be the Homer, Blacklock the Pindar, and Home the Shakspere, or something still greater, of his country. On those who were even his rivals in his own peculiar walks--Adam Smith, Robertson, Ferguson, and Henry, he heaped the same honest, hearty commendation. He urged them to write; he raised the spirit of literary ambition in their breasts; he found publishers for their works; and, when these were completed, he trumpeted the praises of the authors through society.

The following letter shows how accidentally Hume became acquainted with a matter, which, according to modern notions, should have formed part of his systematic studies, before he began to write a history of England.

HUME _to_ GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto_.

"_Edinburgh, 9th Aug. 1757._

"DEAR SIR,--I can easily perceive that your friends were no lawyers, who said that there was no statute in Henry the Seventh's reign, which facilitated the alienation of lands, and broke the ancient entails: it is 4 Hen. VII. cap. 24; but a man may read that passage fifty times, and not find any thing that seems, in the least, to point that way. I should certainly have overlooked the meaning of it, had I not been guided by Lord Kames. You must know that it was a practice in the courts of justice, before Henry the Seventh's time, to break entails by a device which seems very ridiculous, but which is continued to this day, and first received the sanction of law during the reign of that prince. You have an entailed estate, I suppose, and want to break the entail. You agree with me that I am to claim the estate by a sham title, prior to the first entailer; you confess in court that my title is good and valid; the judges, upon this confession of the party, adjudge the estate to me; upon which I immediately restore the estate to you, free and unencumbered; and by this hocus-pocus the entail is broke.--Such was the practice, pretty common before Henry the Seventh. All that the parliament then did, was to regulate the method of proceeding in this fine device, and to determine that the titles of minors, and femmes couvert, were not to be injured by it. As to other people, who had an interest to preserve an entail, and who had any good reason to plead in their own favour, they would naturally appear for themselves. This practice is called a fine, and a recovery: fine, from the Latin word finis; because it forecloses all parties, and puts a final issue to their claims and pretensions: a recovery, because a man thereby recovers his estate, without the encumbrance of an entail.

"By the bye, I am told, that there are many of these practices still continued in the law of England; which are as foolish, juvenile, and ridiculous, as are to be met with in ---- I mean in ---- I would be understood to mean in ---- any craft or profession of the world.[33:1]

"I am writing the History of England, from the accession of Henry the Seventh, and am some years advanced in Henry the Eighth. I undertook this work because I was tired of idleness, and found reading alone, after I had often perused all good books, (which I think is soon done,) somewhat a languid occupation. As to the approbation or esteem of those blockheads who call themselves the public, and whom a bookseller, a lord, a priest, or a party can guide, I do most heartily despise it. I shall be able, I think, to make a tolerable smooth, well-told tale of the history of England during that period; but I own I have not yet been able to throw much new light into it. I begin the Reformation to-morrow.

"I find the public, with you, have rejected the Epigoniad, for the present. They may do so if they please; but it has a great deal of merit, much more than any one of them is capable of throwing into a work.

"I disapprove very much of Ferguson's scruples, with regard to entering into Lord Bute's family, with the inspection of more than one boy; but I hope Lord Bute will conform himself to his delicacy, at least if he wants to have a man of sense, knowledge, taste, elegance, and morals, for a tutor to his son.[34:1]

"I am obliged to you for your good intentions, with regard to my cousin; but you must express yourself otherwise, than by saying that you will concur with the rest of my friends in endeavouring to promote him; for now that Oswald is out of court, whom have I besides to apply to? Dear Sir, your most obedient humble servant."[34:2]

HUME _to_ ANDREW MILLAR.

"_Edinburgh, 3d September, 1757._

"As to my opinions, you know I defend none of them positively; I only propose my doubts where I am so unhappy as not to receive the same conviction with the rest of mankind. It surprises me much to see any body who pretends to be a man of letters, discover anger on that account; since it is certain, by the experience of all ages, that nothing contributes more to the progress of learning than such disputes and novelties.

"Apropos to anger; I am positively assured, that Dr. Warburton wrote that letter to himself, which you sent me; and indeed the style discovers him sufficiently.[35:1] I should answer him; but he attacks so small a corner of my building, that I can abandon it without drawing great consequences after it. If he would come into the field and dispute concerning the principal topics of my philosophy, I should probably accept the challenge: at present nothing could tempt me to take the pen in hand but anger, of which I feel myself incapable, even upon this provocation.

"I have finished the Index to the new collection of my pieces; this Index cost me more trouble than I was aware of when I began it. I am obliged to Mr. Strahan, for the uncommon pains he has taken in making it correct. The Errata which I have given, consist mostly of small alterations in the style, which I made myself. You know I always expect half-a-dozen of copies on each new edition. I would wish that Mr. Strahan would accept of one, as a proof of the sense which I have of his care on this occasion. Please keep one by you, which I fancy I shall have occasion to send abroad; and be so good as to send the other four, with any other parcel you are sending hither. I am very assiduous in writing a new volume of History, and am now pretty well advanced. I find the whole will be comprised in one volume, though somewhat more bulky than any of the former. The period of time is a great deal longer than that of either of the former, but is not near so full of interesting matter; and as the original historians are much fewer, there are not so many circumstances transmitted to us. I am pretty certain, that I shall be able to deliver to you the manuscript about a twelvemonth hence, and shall certainly be in London myself for that purpose. You seemed desirous that we should mutually enter into articles about this volume; which I declined, till I should be so much advanced as to be sure of my resolution of executing it, and could judge with some certainty of the bulk. Now that I am satisfied in both these particulars, I am willing to engage with you for the same price, viz. seven hundred pounds, payable three months after the publication. If you approve of this proposal, please write me a letter for that purpose; and I shall also, in return, send you an obligatory letter. I think this justice is due to you, that you may see I do not intend, on account of any success, to screw up the price, or ask beyond what you have already allowed me, which, I own, was very reasonable.

"Mr. Dalrymple has paid me twenty pounds and a crown. I can never meet with Mr. Wright, though I call often at his shop. Mr. Balfour does not name any day.

"I am glad of the approbation which Mr. Dalrymple's book meets with; I think it really deserves it.[37:1]

"Nothing surprises me more than the ill usage which the Epigoniad has received. Every body here likes it extremely. The plan and story is not so much admired, as the poetry and versification; but your critics seem willing to allow it no merit at all. I fancy it has not been enough dispersed; and that your engaging on it, would extremely forward its success. The whole edition is out. There were five hundred and fifty disposed of here; two hundred sent to London. As the author is my very good friend and acquaintance, I should be much pleased to bring you to an understanding together. If the bad success on the first edition has not discouraged you, I would engage him to make you proposals for that purpose. He will correct all the blemishes remarked. I should not be displeased that you read to Dr. Warburton, the paragraph in the first page of my letter, with regard to himself. The hopes of getting an answer, might probably engage him to give us something farther of the same kind; which, at least, saves you the expense of advertising. I see the doctor likes a literary squabble.

"I would be glad to know, how near you think you are to a new edition of my History, and whether you intend a duodecimo edition of these philosophical pieces. I am," &c.[38:1]

DAVID HUME _to_ DR. CLEPHANE.

"_Edinburgh, 3d Sept. 1757._

"DEAR DOCTOR,--I am charmed to find you so punctual a correspondent. I always knew you to be a good friend, though I was afraid that I had lost you, and that you had joined that great multitude who abused me, and reproached me with Paganism, and Jacobitism, and many other wretched isms, of which I am only guilty of a part.

"I believe a man, when he is once an author, is an author for life; for I am now very busily engaged in writing another volume of history, and have crept backwards to the reign of Henry the Seventh. I wish indeed that I had begun there; for, by that means, I should have been able, without making any digression, by the plain course of the narration, to have shown how absolute the authority was which the English kings then possessed, and that the Stuarts did little or nothing more than continue matters in the former track, which the people were determined no longer to admit. By this means I should have escaped the reproach of the most terrible ism of them all, that of Jacobitism. 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, frugal, regular, quiet, good-natured man of a bad character,--such a room, I say, would suit me extremely, especially if I could take most of my meals in the family; and more especially still, if it was not far distant from Dr. Clephane's. I shall then be able, dear doctor, to spend £150 a-year, which is the sum upon which, I remember, you formerly undertook me. But I would not have you reckon upon _probabilities_, as you then called them, for I am resolved to write no more. I shall read and correct, and chat and be idle, the rest of my life.

"I must now make room for Sir Harry, who smiles at the sum at which I have set up my rest. I am," &c.[39:1]

Among the officers of the Scottish Royal Regiment who served in the expedition to Port L'Orient, and afterwards continued in terms of familiar acquaintance with Hume, was captain, afterwards Colonel Edmondstoune, of Newton in Perthshire. His letters, which were preserved by Hume, and will occasionally be cited in these pages, show that he was a man of wit and learning. Frequent allusions to him, under the name of Guidelianus, have already occurred in Hume's letters to mutual friends. The following, graceful and thoroughly amiable as it is, is apparently the earliest of Hume's letters to him which has been preserved.

HUME _to_ CAPTAIN EDMONDSTOUNE.

"_Edinburgh, 29th Sept. 1757._

"DEAR EDMONDSTOUNE,--I believe it is a rule in law, that any summons prevents prescription; and in like manner, that the wakening a process keeps one's rank in the lords' row.[40:1] It is with some such view that I now write to you; not to send you a formal letter, which would require a formal answer, and would therefore get no answer at all: but just to take a shake of your hand, and ask you how you do, and speak a little nonsense to you as usual, and then fall into s[ilence] without giving myself the trouble of supporting the conversation any lon[ger]; and, in a word, keep you from forgetting that you have some such friend in the world as myself.

"But pray, why did you not write me as you promised and give me your direction? Was you afraid I should write to you? You see I can find out a method of directing to you without your information.

"Tell me about the Epigoniad. Was there ever so much fine versification bestowed on so indifferent a story? Has it had any success in Ireland? I fancy not; for the criticklings in Dublin depend on the criticklings in London, who depend on the booksellers, who depend on their interest, which depends on their printing a book themselves. This is the cause why Wilkie's book is at present neglected, or damned, as they call it: but I am much mistaken if it end so. Pray what says the primate of it? I hear he has the generosity to support damned books till the resurrection, and that he is one of the saints who pray them out of purgatory. I hope he is an honest fellow and one of [us.] Captain Masterton told me, that he was not quite of my opinion with regard to the 'Douglas,' and that he blamed my dedicatory address to the author. But I persist still, and will prove in spite of him and you, and of every man who [wears eit]her black or scarlet, that it is an admirable tragedy, comparable [to the exce]llent pieces of the good age of Louis Quatorze. The author is here at present, and is refitting his 'Agis' for the theatre, which I hope will have justice done it. _Il est le mieux renté de touts les beaux esprits._ He has a pension from his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, as you have probably heard.

"I hear sometimes from the Doctor, who desires me to tell him something about you. But I am no necromancer; only, as the ancients said,--_prudentia est quædam divinatio_. I conjecture that you are lounging, and reading, and playing at whist, and blaming yourself for not writing letters, and yet persisting in the neglect of your duty."[41:1]

The following is the second letter in which we find Hume appreciating the merits of his friend and rival, Robertson. There is no passage in literary history, perhaps, more truly dignified, than the perfect cordiality and sincere interchange of services between two men, whose claims on the admiration of the world came in so close competition with each other.

HUME _to_ ANDREW MILLAR.

"_Edinburgh, 6th April, 1758._

"DEAR SIR,--I am very glad that Mr. Robertson is entering on terms with you. It was indeed my advice to him, when he set out for London, that he should think of no other body; and I ventured to assure him that he would find your way of dealing frank, and open, and generous. He read me part of his History, and I had an opportunity of reading another part of it in manuscript above a twelvemonth ago. Upon the whole, my expectations, both from what I saw, and from my knowledge of the author, were very much raised, and I consider it as a work of uncommon merit. I know that he has employed himself with great diligence and care in collecting the facts: his style is lively and entertaining; and he judges with temper and candour. He is a man generally known and esteemed in this country: and we look upon him very deservedly as inferior to nobody in capacity and learning. Hamilton and Balfour have offered him a very unusual price; no less than five hundred pounds for one edition of two thousand; but I own, that I should be better pleased to see him in your hands. I only inform you of this fact, that you may see how high the general expectations are of Mr. Robertson's performance. It will have a quick sale in this country, from the character of the author; and in England, from the merit of the work, as soon as it is known.

"Some part of his subject is common with mine; but as his work is a History of Scotland, mine of England, we do not interfere; and it will rather be an amusement to the reader to compare our method of treating the same subject. I give you thanks, however, for your attention in asking my opinion."[43:1]

The following is from another letter on the same subject.

"_Edinburgh, 20th June, 1758._

"I send enclosed a letter from Mr. Robertson. He wishes it were practicable to send him more than one sheet every post. I am afraid, if this be not done, our publications will interfere, which would be disagreeable to you as well as to both of us.

"I have read a small pamphlet called 'Sketches,' which, from the style, I take to be Dr. Armstrong's, though the public voice gives it to Allan Ramsay.[43:2] I find the ingenious author, whoever he be, ridicules the new method of spelling, as he calls it; but that method of spelling _honor_, instead of _honour_, was Lord Bolingbroke's, Dr. Middleton's, and Mr. Pope's; besides many other eminent writers'. However, to tell truth, I hate to be any way particular in a trifle; and therefore, if Mr. Strahan has not printed off above ten or twelve sheets, I should not be displeased if you told him to follow the usual, that is, his own way of spelling throughout; we shall make the other volumes conformable to it: if he be advanced farther, there is no great matter."[43:3]

A letter to Elliot, after some farther recommendations of Hume's nephew, young Edgar, to his attention, thus proceeds:--

HUME _to_ GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto_.

"_Edinburgh, 11th May, 1758._

"I have the prospect of paying my respects to you this autumn, in London. I am now come within sight of land, and am drawing near to a period of that volume which I had undertaken. I find the subject curious; and I believe that this volume will contain some novelty, as well as greater accuracy of composition, than is employed by our ordinary historians. I could add, greater than is requisite to please the taste of the public,--at least if we may judge by the vast success of Dr. Smollett's history. _Vanitas vanitatum, atque omnia vanitas_, says the Preacher; the great object of us authors, and of you orators and statesmen, is to gain applause; and you see at what rate it is to be purchased. I fancy there is a future state, to give poets, historians, and philosophers their due reward, and to distribute to them those recompenses which are so strangely shared out in this life. It is of little consequence that posterity does them justice, if they are for ever to be ignorant of it, and are to remain in perpetual slumber in their literary paradise. However, it is some comfort, that virtue is its own reward, and that a man cannot employ himself in the cultivation of letters without reaping a real present satisfaction from his industry. I am, dear sir, your most obliged humble servant.

"P.S.--I am sorry to hear that the bill for the importation of Irish cattle is rejected. Besides other arguments for it, I remember a strong argument which was used in Charles II.'s time against the prohibition, when it was first laid on: it was affirmed that the shipping employed in that commerce was nearly equal to that which served for the carriage of coal from Newcastle to London. It is not improbable that this argument has, at present, escaped all the reasoners on that subject; and I thought it a proper one to be suggested to a lord of the Admiralty. It is to be found, if my memory do not deceive me, in Carte's Ormond, and was employed by that duke."[45:1]