Life and Correspondence of David Hume, Volume 1

by John Hill Burton

CHAPTER IV.

1741-1745. Æt. 30-34.

Publication of the Essays, Moral and Political—Their Character—Correspondence with Home and Hutcheson—Hume's Remarks on Hutcheson's System—Education and Accomplishments of the Scottish Gentry—Hume's Intercourse with Mure of Caldwell and Oswald of Dunnikier—Opinions on a Sermon by Dr. Leechman—Attempts to succeed Dr. Pringle in the Chair of Moral Philosophy in Edinburgh.

A small duodecimo volume, the first of the "Essays Moral and Political," was published at Edinburgh in 1741, and the second was published in 1742. The publication was anonymous; and it is remarkable that, although thus shielded, Hume appears to have, at that early period, been so anxious to disconnect himself with the authorship of the Treatise, that, in the advertisement, he addresses his readers as if he were then appearing as an author for the first time. "Most of these essays," he says, "were wrote with a view of being published as weekly papers, and were intended to comprehend the designs both of the Spectators and Craftsmen. But, having dropt that undertaking, partly from laziness, partly from want of leisure, and being willing to make trial of my talents for writing before I ventured upon any more serious compositions, I was induced to commit these trifles to the judgment of the public. Like most new authors, I must confess I feel some anxiety concerning the success of my work; but one thing makes me more secure,—that the reader may condemn my abilities, but must approve of my moderation and impartiality in my method of handling political subjects; and, as long as my moral character is in safety,

I can, with less anxiety, abandon my learning and capacity to the most severe censure and examination."

Some of the subjects of these essays were not less untrodden at the time when they appeared, than they are hackneyed in the present day. Of these may be cited, "The Liberty of the Press;" "The Parties of Great Britain;" "The Independency of Parliament." When they are compared with the Craftsman, with Mist's Journal, and with the other periodicals of the day, which had set the example of discussing such subjects, these essays as little resemble their precursors, as De Lolme's "Remarks on the British Constitution" do the articles in a daily London party paper. Whatever he afterwards became, Hume was at that time no party politician. He retained the Stoic severity of thought with which we have found that he had sixteen years previously invested himself; and would allow the excitements or rewards of no party in the state to drag him out of the even middle path of philosophical observation. There is consequently a wonderful impartiality in these essays, and an acuteness of observation, which to the reader, who keeps in view how little the true workings of the constitution were noticed in that day, is not less remarkable. How completely, for instance, has the wisdom of the following observations in the essay on "The Liberty of the Press," been justified by the experience of a century.

We need not dread from this liberty any such ill consequences as followed from the harangues of the popular demagogues of Athens and tribunes of Rome. A man reads a book or pamphlet alone and coolly. There is none present from whom he can catch the passion by contagion. He is not hurried away by the force and energy of action. And should he be wrought up to never so seditious a humour, there

is no violent resolution presented to him by which he can immediately vent his passion. The liberty of the press, therefore, however abused, can scarce ever excite popular tumults or rebellion. And as to those murmurs or secret discontents it may occasion, 'tis better they should get vent in words, that they may come to the knowledge of the magistrate before it be too late, in order to his providing a remedy against them. Mankind, 'tis true, have always a greater propension to believe what is said to the disadvantage of their governors than the contrary; but this inclination is inseparable from them whether they have liberty or not. A whisper may fly as quick, and be as pernicious as a pamphlet. Nay, it will be more pernicious, where men are not accustomed to think freely, or distinguish betwixt truth and falsehood.

It has also been found, as the experience of mankind increases, that the people are no such dangerous monster as they have been represented, and that 'tis in every respect better to guide them like rational creatures, than to lead or drive them like brute beasts. Before the United Provinces set the example, toleration was deemed incompatible with good government; and 'twas thought impossible that a number of religious sects could live together in harmony and peace, and have all of them an equal affection to their common country and to each other. England has set a like example of civil liberty; and though this liberty seems to occasion some small ferment at present, it has not as yet produced any pernicious effects; and it is to be hoped that men, being every day more accustomed to the free discussion of public affairs, will improve in their judgment of them, and be with greater difficulty seduced by every idle rumour and popular clamour.

'Tis a very comfortable reflection to the lovers of liberty, that this peculiar privilege of Britain is of a kind that cannot easily be wrested from us, and must last as long as our government remains in any degree free and independent. 'Tis seldom that liberty of any kind is lost all at once. Slavery has so frightful an aspect to men accustomed to freedom, that it must steal in upon them by decrees, and must disguise itself in a thousand shapes in order to be received. But if the liberty of the press ever be lost, it must

be lost at once. The general laws against sedition and libelling are at present as strong as they possibly can be made. Nothing can impose a farther restraint but either the clapping an imprimatur upon the press, or the giving very large discretionary powers to the court to punish whatever displeases them. But these concessions would be such a barefaced violation of liberty, that they will probably be the last efforts of a despotic government. We may conclude that the liberty of Britain is gone for ever when these attempts shall succeed.

The opinion generally acceded to at the present day, that ministerial and judicial functions should be intrusted to responsible individuals, and not to bodies of men who may individually escape from a joint responsibility, is anticipated in the following passage:—"Honour is a great check upon mankind; but where a considerable body of men act together, this check is in a great measure removed, since a man is sure to be approved of by his own party for what promotes the common interest, and he soon learns to despise the clamour of adversaries."[139:1] The Grenville Act, and the subsequent measures for reducing the number of the judges on controverted elections, are a practical commentary on the truth of this remark.

It has often been observed, that foreigners have been the first to remark the leading peculiarities of the British constitution, and of the administration of justice in this country, in a manner rational and unimpassioned, yet so as to give them greater prominence, and a more full descriptive development than they obtain from our own impassioned party writers—an observation attested by the character which the works of Montesquieu and De Lolme held in the preceding century, and those of Thierry, Cottu, Meyer, and Raumer, have obtained in the present.

The reason of this superiority is to be sought in the circumstance that the acuteness of these foreign observers was not obscured, or their feelings excited, by any connexion with the workings of the systems they have described; and the isolation from active life in which Hume was placed, appears to have in some measure given him like qualifications for the examination of our political institutions. He expresses a general partiality for the monarchical government of Britain, but it is a partiality of a calm utilitarian character, which would not be inconsistent with an equally great esteem for a well-ordered republic. On his philosophical appreciation of its merits, the monarchy has no stronger claims than these—that to have an individual at the head of the government who is merely the name through which other persons act, and who is not amenable to any laws, while the real actors are personally responsible for what they do in his name, is an expedient arrangement. That it is very convenient to have some fixed criterion such as the hereditary principle, which shall obviate the trouble and danger of a competition for this elevated station. But that these are all recommendations on the ground of expediency, which may be outweighed by others, and the misconduct of a weak or tyrannical prince will justify an alteration in that arrangement, which convenience only, and the avoidance of occasions for turbulence and anarchy, have sanctioned.

It may be observed, that in the edition of these essays which he directed to be published after his death, many of those passages which bear a democratic tendency are suppressed. Such was the fate of the passage in "The Liberty of the Press" quoted above, and of the remarks put within brackets in the quotation which follows, from the essay on "The Parties of Great Britain."

Some who will not venture to assert, that the real difference between Whig and Tory, was lost at the Revolution, seem inclined to think that the difference is now abolished, and that affairs are so far returned to their natural state, that there are at present no other parties amongst us but court and country; that is, men who, by interest or principle, are attached either to monarchy or to liberty. It must indeed be confessed, that the Tory party has of late decayed much in their numbers, still more in their zeal, and I may venture to say, still more in their credit and authority. [There is no man of knowledge or learning, who would not be ashamed to be thought of that party; and in almost all companies, the name of Old Whig is mentioned as an incontestible appellation of honour and dignity. Accordingly, the enemies of the ministry, as a reproach, call the courtiers the true Tories; and, as an honour, denominate the gentlemen in the Opposition the true Whigs.] The Tories have been so long obliged to talk in the republican style, that they seem to have made converts of themselves by their hypocrisy, and to have embraced the sentiments as well as language of their adversaries. There are, however, very considerable remains of that party in England, with all their old prejudices; and a proof that court and country are not our only parties, is, that almost all our dissenters side with the court, and the lower clergy, at least of the Church of England, with the opposition. This may convince us that some bias still hangs upon our constitution, some extrinsic weight which turns it from its natural course, and causes a confusion in our parties.[141:1]

Perhaps the most ambitious of the essays, and those on which the author bestowed most of his skill and attention, are "The Epicurean," "The Stoic," "The Sceptic," and "The Platonist." These are productions of the imagination, suggested apparently by the style and method of The Spectator. There is no attempt either to support or to attack the systems

represented by the names of the essays, nor is there a description or definition of them; but on each occasion a member of one of these celebrated schools speaks in his own person, and describes the nature of the satisfaction that he finds in his own code of philosophy, as a solution of the great difficulty of the right rule of thought and action. "The Epicurean" takes a flight of imagination beyond that of Hume's other works. It departs from the cold atmosphere of philosophy, and desires to fascinate as well as enlighten. But though it possesses all the marks of a fine intellect, the reader is apt to feel how far more sweetly and gracefully the subject would have been handled by Addison, to whose department of literature it seems rightly to belong. The follower of Epicurus is not represented, as indulging in that gross licentiousness, as wallowing in that disgusting "stye" which the representations of Diogenes Laertius, and others, have impressed on the vulgar associations with the name of that master. On the other hand, the picture is far from embodying what many maintain to be the fundamental precept of Epicurus, that happiness being the great end sought by man, the proper method of reaching it is by the just regulation of the passions and propensities; a precept embodied in the

"Sperne voluptates. Nocet empta dolere voluptas."

Hume, who was not correcting errors, or instructing his readers in the true meaning of terms, or appreciation of characters, draws in "The Epicurean" a picture of one who is not gross or grovelling in his pleasures, and who restrains himself lest he should outrun enjoyment; but whose ruling principle is still that of the voluptuary.

The reader expects to find an attempt to draw his own picture in "The Sceptic;" but it is not to be found there.

The sceptic of the essays is not a man analyzing the principles of knowledge, to find wherein they consist, but one who is dissatisfied with rules of morality, and who, examining the current codes one after another, tosses them aside as unsatisfactory. It is into "The Stoic" that the writer has thrown most of his heart and sympathy; and it is in that sketch that, though probably without intention, some of the features of his own character are portrayed. There are passages which have considerable unison of tone with those autobiographical documents already quoted, in which he describes himself as having laboured to subdue the rebellious passions, to reduce the mind to a regulated system, to drive from it the influence of petty impressions,—to hold one great object of life in view, and to sacrifice before that object whatever stood in the way of his firmly settled purpose.

Of the success of these essays, and the method in which he occupied himself after their publication, he thus speaks in his "own life:"—"The work was favourably received, and soon made me entirely forget my former disappointment. I continued with my mother and brother in the country, and in that time recovered the knowledge of the Greek language, which I had too much neglected in my early youth." On 13th June, 1742, he says to Henry Home:—"The Essays are all sold in London, as I am informed by two letters from English gentlemen of my acquaintance. There is a demand for them; and, as one of them tells me, Innys, the great bookseller in Paul's Churchyard, wonders there is not a new edition, for that he cannot find copies for his customers. I am also told that Dr. Butler has every where recommended them; so that I hope they will have some success. They may prove like dung with marl, and

bring forward the rest of my Philosophy, which is of a more durable, though of a harder and more stubborn nature. You see I can talk to you in your own style." In consequence of this favourable reception, a second edition appeared in 1742.

The communication of which the above is a part, contains the following short essay on the Orations of Cicero:—

I agree with you, that Cicero's reasonings in his "Orations" are very often loose, and what we should think to be wandering from the point; insomuch, that now-a-days a lawyer, who should give himself such liberties, would be in danger of meeting with a reprimand from the judge, or at least of being admonished of the point in question. His Orations against Verres, however, are an exception; though that plunderer was so impudent and open in his robberies, that there is the less merit in his conviction and condemnation. However, these orations have all a very great merit. The Oration for Milo is commonly esteemed Cicero's masterpiece, and indeed is, in many respects, very beautiful; but there are some points in the reasoning of it that surprise me. The true story of the death of Clodius, as we learn from the Roman historians, was this:—It was only a casual rencontre betwixt Milo and him; and the squabble was begun by their servants, as they passed each other on the road. Many of Clodius's servants were killed, the rest dispersed, and himself wounded, and obliged to hide himself in some neighbouring shops; from whence he was dragged out by Milo's orders, and killed in the street. These circumstances must have been largely insisted on by the prosecutors, and must have been proved too, since they have been received as truth by all antiquity. But not a word of them in Cicero, whose oration only labours to prove two points, that Milo did not waylay Clodius, and that Clodius was a bad citizen, and it was meritorious to kill him. If you read his oration, you'll agree with me. I believe that he has scarce spoke any thing to the question, as it would now be conceived, by a court of judicature.

The Orations for Marcellus and Ligarius, as also that for

Archias, are very fine, and chiefly because the subjects do not require or admit of close reasoning.

'Tis worth your while to read the conclusion of the Oration for Plancius, where I think the passions are very well touched. There are many noble passages in the Oration for Muræna, though 'tis certain that the prosecutors (who, however, were Servius Sulpicius, and Cato,) must either have said nothing to the purpose, or Cicero has said nothing. There is some of that oration lost.

'Twould be a pleasure to read and compare the two first philippics, that you may judge of the manners of those times, compared to modern manners. When Cicero spoke the first philippic, Antony and he had not broke all measures with each other, but there were still some remains of a very great intimacy and friendship betwixt them; and besides, Cicero lived in close correspondence with all the rest of Cæsar's captains; Dolabella had been his son-in-law; Hirtius and Pansa were his pupils; Trebasius was entirely his creature. For this reason, prudence laid him under great restraints at that time in his declamations against Antony; there is great elegance and delicacy in them; and many of the thoughts are very fine, particularly where he mentions his meeting Brutus, who had been obliged to leave Rome. "I was ashamed," says he, "that I durst return to Rome after Brutus had left it, and that I could be in safety where he could not." In short, the whole oration is of such a strain, that the Duke of Argyle might have spoke it in the House of Peers against my Lord Orford; and decency would not allow the greatest enemies to go farther. But this oration is not much admired by the ancients. The Divine Philippic, as Juvenal calls it, is the second, where he gives a full loose to his scurrility; and without having any point to gain by it, except vilifying his antagonist, and without supporting any fact by witnesses (for there was no trial or accusation) he rakes into all the filth of Antony's character; reproaches him with drunkenness and vomiting, and cowardice, and every sort of debauchery and villany. There is great genius and wit in many passages of this oration; but I think the whole turn of it would not now be generally admired.[145:1]

In 1742, Hutcheson published his celebrated outline of a system of ethics, "Philosophiæ Moralis Institutio Compendiaria." The following letter contains Hume's remarks on the work; and to render them more intelligible, the passages he had particularly in view are printed in notes. It is not, however, as pieces of detached criticism, so much as in the character of an elucidation of those features of his own system in which it differs from that of Hutcheson, that the letter is valuable. It is an argument for the utilitarian system of morality—an argument that there is no summum bonum which should be the object of moral conduct, apart from the good of the human species.

Hume to Francis Hutcheson.

"Dear Sir,—I received your very agreeable present, for which I esteem myself much obliged to you. I think it needless to express to you my esteem of the performance, because both the solidity of your judgment, and the general approbation your writings meet with, instruct you sufficiently what opinion you ought to form of them. Though your good nature might prompt you to encourage me by some praises, the same reason has not place with me, however justice might require them of me. Will not this prove that justice and good nature are not the same? I am surprised you should have been so diffident about your Latin. I have not wrote any in that language these many years, and cannot pretend to judge of particular words and phrases. But the turn of the whole seems to me very pure, and even easy and elegant.

"I have subjoined a few reflections, which occurred to me in reading over the book. By these I pretend

only to show you how much I thought myself obliged to you for the pains you took with me in a like case, and how willing I am to be grateful.

"P. 9, l. ult. et quæ seq.[147:1] These instincts you mention seem not always to be violent and impetuous, more than self-love or benevolence. There is a calm ambition, a calm anger or hatred, which, though calm, may likewise be very strong, and have the absolute command over the mind. The more absolute they are, we find them to be commonly the calmer. As these instincts may be calm without being weak, so self-love may likewise become impetuous and disturbed, especially where any great pain or pleasure approaches.

"P. 21. l. 11.[147:2] In opposition to this, I shall cite a fine writer,—not for the sake of his authority, but for

the fact, which you may have observed. 'Les hommes comptent presque pour rien toutes les vertus du cœur, et idolâtrent les talens du corps et de l'esprit: celui qui dit froidement de soi, et sans croire blesser la modestie, qu'il est bon, qu'il est constant, fidèle, sincère, équitable, reconnoissant, n'ose dire qu'il est vif, qu'il a les dents belles et la peau douce: cela est trop fort.'—La Bruyere.[148:1]

"I fancy, however, this author stretches the matter too far. It seems arrogant to pretend to genius or magnanimity, which are the most shining qualities a man can possess. It seems foppish and frivolous to pretend to bodily accomplishments. The qualities of the heart lie in a medium; and are neither so shining as the one, nor so little valued as the other. I suppose the reason why good nature is not more valued, is its commonness, which has a vast effect on all our sentiments. Cruelty and hardness of heart is the most detested of all vices. I always thought you limited too much your ideas of virtue; and I find I have this opinion in common with several that have a very high esteem for your philosophy.

"P. 30, l. antepen. et quæ seq.[148:2] You seem here to

embrace Dr. Butler's opinion in his "Sermons on Human Nature," that our moral sense has an authority distinct from its force and durableness; and that because we always think it ought to prevail. But this is nothing but an instinct or principle, which approves of itself upon reflection, and that is common to all of them. I am not sure that I have not mistaken your sense, since you do not prosecute this thought.

"P. 52. l. 1. I fancy you employ the epithet ærumnosam[149:1] more from custom than your settled opinion.

"P. 129, et quæ seq.[149:2] You sometimes, in my opinion, ascribe the original of property and justice to public benevolence, and sometimes to private benevolence towards the possessors of the goods; neither of which seem to me satisfactory. You know my opinion on this head. It mortifies me much to see a person who possesses more candour and penetration than any almost I know, condemn reasonings of which I imagine I see so strongly the evidence. I was going to blot out this after having wrote it, but hope you will consider it only as a piece of folly, as indeed it is.

"P. 244, l. 7.[149:3] You are so much afraid to derive any thing of virtue from artifice or human conventions, that you have neglected what seems to me the most

satisfactory reason, viz. lest near relations, having so many opportunities in their youth, might debauch each other, if the least encouragement or hope was given to these desires, or if they were not easily repressed by an artificial horror inspired against them.

"P. 263, l. 14. As the phrase is true Latin, and very common, it seemed not to need an apology, as when necessity obliges one to employ modern words.[150:1]

"P. 266, l. 18, et quæ seq.[150:2] You imply a condemnation of Locke's opinion, which, being the received one, I could have wished the condemnation had been more express.

"These are the most material things that occurred to me upon a perusal of your ethics. I must own I am pleased to see such just philosophy, and such instructive morals to have once set their foot in the schools. I hope they will next get into the world, and then into the churches.

Nil desperandum, Teucro duce et auspice Teucro.

"Edinb. Jan. 10, 1743."

Among the Scottish gentry of Hume's day, there were many men of high education and accomplishments; and the glimpses we occasionally obtain into the society which he frequented, show us a circle possessing a much less provincial tone than later times would probably

have exhibited in the same class. The notion that a university was a seat of learning, where the scholarship of all the world should meet, and not a provincial school, still lingered in our country, and prompted the gentry to educate their sons abroad. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the registers of the universities of Paris, Bourgès, Bologna, and Leyden, were crowded with familiar Scottish names, whom we find holding as great a proportion among the teachers as among the learners; and thus a Wilson, a Barclay, a Bellenden, a Jack, and many others, whose fame hardly reached their native country, are conspicuous among the literary ornaments of the foreign universities. It is perhaps in a great measure to the lingering continuance of this practice through part of the eighteenth century, that we may attribute the learning and accomplishments of the society in Scotland during that period.[151:1]

"Many are poets who have never penned their inspiration, and perchance the best." Many also are philosophers who have never either penned their philosophy, or put it into shape in their own minds. The two operations of induction and analysis proceed in every human mind with more or less success; but it is only when literary ambition, or pecuniary necessity, or the desire to head a system, prompts a man to collect and put into shape their results, that

they are given to the world. Instances have occurred in which they have appeared very nearly in their raw unwrought form. Thus, Tucker's "Light of Nature" is nothing more than the reflections of an English country gentleman, collected and strung together. Paley and Reid used them as if they had themselves gone through the operation, and put the results into shape; while the late William Hazlitt was at the pains of writing an abridgment of the book. It was fortunate for philosophy that these disconnected observations and thoughts were collected and preserved. And the reflection leads to the recollection of the quantity of valuable thoughts that any man, who notices the course of conversation around him, hears produced and dropped. In after-dinner social intercourse, in general verbal criticism of books or men, how much of the gold of true philosophy is scattered away with the dross; lost almost at the moment it is uttered, and forgotten both by hearer and speaker.

It is interesting to have so much of this valuable matter, as may have found its way into epistolary correspondence, preserved. The conversation of Hume's friends we have unfortunately lost, for there was no Boswell at his elbow. But their letters show how much of scholarship, and elegant literature, and philosophy slumbered in the minds of the Scottish gentry of that age; and assure us that in his intercourse with an Elliot, a Mure, an Edmonstone, an Elibank, a Macdonald, an Oswald, Hume was exchanging ideas with men not unworthy of literary fellowship with a mind even so highly cultivated as his own.

William Mure of Caldwell, who was in 1761 made a Baron of the Exchequer in Scotland, was among those who seem to have earliest secured and longest

retained Hume's esteem. The letters which passed between them are not often dated, but the circumstances under which many of them are written are attested by internal evidence. The following is one of the few which do not admit of being thus tested, but its merit is in a vein of quiet, easy, epistolary humour, rather than in its connexion with the events of the writer's life.

Hume to William Mure of Caldwell.

"September 10.

"I made a pen, dipt it in ink, and set myself down in a posture of writing, before I had thought of any subject, or made provision of one single thought, by which I might entertain you. I trusted to my better genius that he would supply me in a case of such urgent necessity; but having thrice scratched my head, and thrice bit my nails, nothing presented itself, and I threw away my pen in great indignation. 'O! thou instrument of dulness,' says I, 'doest thou desert me in my greatest necessity? and, being thyself so false a friend, hast thou a secret repugnance at expressing my friendship to the faithful Mure, who knows thee too well ever to trust to thy caprices, and who never takes thee in his hand without reluctance. While I, miserable wretch that I am, have put my chief confidence in thee; and, relinquishing the sword, the gown, the cassock, and the toilette, have trusted to thee alone for my fortune and my fame. Begone! avaunt! Return to the goose from whence thou camest. With her thou wast of some use, while thou conveyedst her through the etherial regions. And why, alas! when plucked from her wing, and put into my hand, doest thou not recognise some similitude betwixt it and thy native soil, and render me the

same service, in aiding the flights of my heavy imagination?'

"Thus accused, the pen erected itself upon its point, placed itself betwixt my fingers and my thumb, and moved itself to and fro upon this paper, to inform you of the story, complain to you of my injustice, and desire your good offices to the reconciling such ancient friends. But not to speak nonsense any longer, (by which, however, I am glad I have already filled a page of paper,) I arrived here about three weeks ago, am in good health, and very deeply immersed in books and study. Tell your sister, Miss Betty, (after having made her my compliments,) that I am as grave as she imagines a philosopher should be,—laugh only once a fortnight, sigh tenderly once a week, but look sullen every moment. In short, none of Ovid's metamorphoses ever showed so absolute a change from a human creature into a beast; I mean, from a gallant into a philosopher.

"I doubt not but you see my Lord Glasgow very often, and therefore I shall suppose, when I write to one, I pay my respects to both. At least, I hope he will so far indulge my laziness. Hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim.

"Did you receive my letter from Glasgow? I hope it did not displease you. What are your resolutions with regard to that affair?

"Remember me to your sister, Miss Nancy, to Miss Dunlop, and to Mr. Leechman. Tell your mother, or sisters, or whoever is most concerned about the matter, that their cousin, John Steuart, is in England, and, as 'tis believed, will return with a great fortune.

"I say not a word of Mr. Hutcheson, for fear you should think I intend to run the whole circle of my West-country acquaintance, and to make you a bearer

of a great many formal compliments. But I remember you all very kindly, and desire to be remembered by you, and to be spoke of sometimes, and to be wrote to."[155:1]

The following letter is in reference to Mr. Mure having been chosen member of Parliament for Renfrewshire as successor to Alexander Cunningham, on whose death a new writ was moved on 22d November, 1742. The advice which this letter offers to a young statesman, seems to be both sagacious and honest.

Hume to William Mure of Caldwell.

"I have wrote to Mr. Oswald[155:2] by this post, in order to promote an intimacy and friendship betwixt you. I exhort you to persevere in your intention of cultivating a friendship with him. You cannot possibly find a man of more worth, of a gentler disposition, or better understanding. There are infinite advantages attending an intimacy with such persons; among which this is not the least, as far as I can judge by my own experience, that I always derive from it an additional motive to preserve my character for honour and integrity; because I know that nothing else can preserve their friendship. Should I give you an exhortation of this kind, you might think me very impertinent; though really you ought to ascribe it more to my friendship, than my diffidence. 'Tis impossible ever to think ourselves secure enough, where our concern is extremely great; and, though I dare be confident of your good conduct, as of my own, yet you must also allow me to be diffident of it, as I should be of my own. When I consider your disposition to virtue, cultivated by letters, together with

your moderation, I cannot doubt of your steadiness. The delicacy of the times does not diminish this assurance, but only dashes it with a few fears, which rise in me without my approbation, and against my judgment. Let a strict frugality be the guardian of your virtue; and preserve your frugality by a close application to business and study. Nothing would so effectually throw you into the lumber and refuse of the house as your departure from your engagements at this time; as a contrary behaviour will secure your own good opinion, and that of all mankind. These advantages are not too dearly purchased even by the loss of fortune, but it belongs to your prudence and frugality to procure them, without paying so dear a purchase for them. I say no more; and hope you will ascribe what I have said, not to the pedagogue, or even to the philosopher, but to the friend. I make profession of being such with regard to you; and desire you to consider me as such no longer than I shall appear to be a man of honour. Yours."

January 26.[156:1]

Among Hume's friends in early life, we find James Oswald of Dunnikier, who is mentioned in the foregoing letter—a name pretty well known in the political history of Scotland. He was elected member for the Kirkaldy district of burghs in 1741. He filled successively the situations of Commissioner of the Navy, Member of the Board of Trade, Lord of the Treasury, and Treasurer of Ireland. He was well read in the sources of literary information, and brought to his official duties a sagacious, practical understanding, which made him infinitely serviceable to the speculative labours of his two illustrious friends, Hume and

Smith. "I know," says Hume, "you are the most industrious and the most indolent man of my acquaintance; the former in business, the latter in ceremony."[157:1] We have occasional glimpses of philosophical rambles, not unmixed with a little conviviality, in which Oswald sometimes embarked with his speculative friends. "You will remember," he says, writing to Henry Home in 1742, "how your friend David Hume and you, used to laugh at a most sublime declamation I one night made, after a drunken expedition to Cupar, on the impotency of corruption in certain circumstances; how I maintained, that on certain occasions, men felt, or seemed to feel, a certain dignity in themselves, which made them disdain to act on sordid motives: and how I imagined it to be extremely possible, in such situations, that even the lowest of men might become superior to the highest temptations."[157:2] The political course which he afterwards adopted, however, was not precisely of this soaring cast, but savoured more of the school of practical expedients founded by Sir Robert Walpole. We shall afterwards have occasion to see his intercourse with Hume illustrated at greater length.

The following letter to Mure, contains a pretty sagacious division of the prominent political movements of the day, into those which a supporter of the court party would advocate, and those which he would oppose. Hume seems to have had some dread lest the spirit of what was then termed patriotism, might sway an inexperienced, young, and aspiring politician into devious paths, inconsistent with the straight road of duty and devotion to an adopted party. But Mure seems to have been a sagacious steady-minded man, not likely to be seduced out of the path he had chosen.

He was subsequently much relied on by Lord Bute, and rose to eminence and distinction as a Tory politician. The letter exhibits a playful practice of talking of his correspondents as his pupils, which Hume adopted sometimes with those who had least sympathy with his principles, unless they were clergymen, or otherwise likely to take the familiarity in bad part.

Hume to William Mure of Caldwell.

"I am surprised you should find fault with my letter. For my part, I esteem it the best I ever wrote. There is neither barbarism, solecism, equivoque, redundancy, nor transgression of one single rule of grammar or rhetoric, through the whole. The words were chosen with an exact propriety to the sense, and the sense was full of masculine strength and energy. In short, it comes up fully to the Duke of Buckingham's description of fine writing,—Exact propriety of words and thought. This is more than what can be said of most compositions. But I shall not be redundant in the praise of brevity, though much might be said on that subject. To conclude all, I shall venture to affirm, that my last letter will be equal in bulk to all the orations you shall deliver, during the two first sessions of parliament. For, let all the letters of my epistle be regularly divided, they will be found equivalent to a dozen of No's and as many Ay's. There will be found a No for the triennial bill, for the pension bill, for the bill about regulating elections, for the bill of pains and penalties against Lord Orford, &c. There will also be found an Ay for the standing army,[158:1] for votes of credit, for the approbation of treaties, &c. As to the last No I

mentioned, with regard to Lord Orford, I beg it of you as a particular favour. For, having published to all Britain my sentiments on that affair, it will be thought by all Britain that I have no influence on you, if your sentiments be not conformable to mine. Besides, as you are my disciple in religion and morals, why should you not be so in politics? I entreat you to get the bill about witches repealed, and to move for some new bill to secure the Christian religion, by burning Deists, Socinians, Moralists, and Hutchinsonians.

"I shall be in town about Christmas, where, if I find not Lord Glasgow, I shall come down early in the spring to the borders of the Atlantic Ocean, and rejoice the Tritons and sea-gods with the prospect of Kelburn[159:1] in a blaze. For I find, that is the only way to unnestle his lordship. But I intend to use the freedom to write to himself on this subject, if you will tell me how to direct to him. In the meantime do you make use of all your eloquence and argument to that purpose.

"Make my humble compliments to the ladies, and tell them, I should endeavour to satisfy them, if they would name the subject of the essay they desire. For my part, I know not a better subject than themselves; if it were not, that being accused of being unintelligible in some of my writings, I should be extremely in danger of falling into that fault, when I should treat of a subject so little to be understood as women. I would, therefore, rather have them assign me the deiform fund of the soul, the passive unions of nothing with nothing, or any other of those mystical points, which I would endeavour to clear up, and render perspicuous to the meanest readers.

"Allow not Miss Dunlop to forget, that she has a

humble servant, who has the misfortune to be divided from her, by the whole breadth of this island. I know she never forgets her friends; but, as I dare not pretend to that relation, upon so short an acquaintance, I must be beholden to your good offices for preserving me in her memory; because I suspect mightily that she is apt to forget and overlook those who can aspire no higher than the relation I first mentioned.

"This, I think, is enough in all conscience. I see you are tired with my long letter, and begin to yawn. What! can nothing satisfy you, and must you grumble at every thing? I hope this is a good prognostic of your being a patriot."[160:1]

"Nov. 14th."

In the course of these Memoirs there will be many occasions for exhibiting Hume's acquaintance with some of the most distinguished clergymen of his time, and the mutual esteem which he and they entertained towards each other. Among those members of the Presbyterian church, with whom he appears to have had the most early intercourse, we find the name of Dr. Leechman, who was his senior by about five years. They probably got acquainted with each other in the family of the Mures of Caldwell, where Leechman had been tutor to Hume's friend and correspondent. Whatever other jealousies or distastes may have occurred between them, it would be no drawback to their subsequent intimacy, that Leechman was by his marriage with Miss Balfour, the brother-in-law of one of Hume's most zealous controversial opponents, Mr. Balfour of Pilrig. Dr. Leechman was for many years professor of divinity in the university of Glasgow, of which he afterwards became principal.

His sermons, now little known, stood at one time in formidable rivalry with those of Blair. He appears to have been a man who united settled religious principles with a calm conscientious inquiring mind; and the account which his biographer, the Rev. James Wodrow, gives of his lectures, is characteristic of one who had too much respect for truth to hate or contemn any man engaged in purely metaphysical inquiries, whatever might be the opinions to which they led him. We are told, that "no dictatorial opinion, no infallible or decisive judgment on any great controverted point, was ever delivered from that theological chair. After the point had undergone a full discussion, none of the students yet knew the particular opinion of this venerable professor, in any other way than by the superior weight of the arguments which he had brought under their view; so delicately scrupulous was he to throw any bias at all upon ingenuous minds, in their inquiries after sacred truth."[161:1]

There is a letter by Hume to Baron Mure, containing a criticism on the composition and substance of a sermon by Dr. Leechman. From the general tenor of the letter, it would appear that the sermon was placed in Hume's hands that the author might have the advantage of his suggestions in preparing a second edition for the press. The criticisms on style and collocation are careful and minute, but they all indicate blemishes peculiar to the piece of composition before the critic, and suggest corresponding improvements; and none of them appear so far to illustrate any canon of criticism as to be intelligible to a

reader who has not the sermon in his hands, in the same state as that in which it was inspected by Hume. These corrective annotations precede the following general remarks on the sermon and its subject. There may be seen in these remarks a desire, which haunts the whole of Hume's writings on kindred subjects; a desire to call forth argument and evidence in support of that side from which he himself feels inclined to dissent; like the unsatisfied feeling of one who would rather find refuge in the argumentative fortress of some other person, than remain a sceptical wanderer at his own free will.

Hume to William Mure of Caldwell.

"These are all the minute faults I could observe in the sermon. Mr. Leechman has a very clear and manly expression; but, in my humble opinion, he does not consult his ear enough, nor aim at a style which may be smooth and harmonious, which, next to perspicuity, is the chief ornament of style; vide Cicero, Quinctilian, Longinus, &c. &c. &c. If this sermon were not a popular discourse, I should also think it might be made more concise.

"As to the argument, I could wish Mr. Leechman would, in the second edition, answer this objection both to devotion and prayer, and indeed to every thing we commonly call religion, except the practice of morality, and the assent of the understanding to the proposition that God exists.

"It must be acknowledged, that nature has given us a strong passion of admiration for whatever is excellent, and of love and gratitude for whatever is benevolent and beneficial; and that the Deity possesses these attributes in the highest perfection: and yet I assert, he is not the natural object of any passion or

affection. He is no object either of the senses or imagination, and very little of the understanding, without which it is impossible to excite any affection. A remote ancestor, who has left us estates and honours acquired with virtue, is a great benefactor; and yet 'tis impossible to bear him any affection, because unknown to us: though in general we know him to be a man or a human creature, which brings him vastly nearer our comprehension than an invisible, infinite spirit. A man, therefore, may have his heart perfectly well disposed towards every proper and natural object of affection—friends, benefactors, country, children, &c.—and yet, from this circumstance of the invisibility and incomprehensibility of the Deity, may feel no affection towards him. And, indeed, I am afraid that all enthusiasts mightily deceive themselves. Hope and fear perhaps agitate their breast when they think of the Deity; or they degrade him into a resemblance with themselves, and by that means render him more comprehensible. Or they exult with vanity in esteeming themselves his peculiar favourites; or at best they are actuated by a forced and strained affection, which moves by starts and bounds, and with a very irregular, disorderly pace. Such an affection cannot be required of any man as his duty. Please to observe, that I not only exclude the turbulent passions, but the calm affections. Neither of them can operate without the assistance of the senses and imagination; or at least a more complete knowledge of the object than we have of the Deity. In most men this is the case; and a natural infirmity can never be a crime. But, secondly, were devotion never so much admitted, prayer must still be excluded. First, the addressing of our virtuous wishes and desires to the Deity, since the address has no influence on him, is only a kind of

rhetorical figure, in order to render these wishes more ardent and passionate. This is Mr. Leechman's doctrine. Now, the use of any figure of speech can never be a duty. Secondly, this figure, like most figures of rhetoric, has an evident impropriety in it; for we can make use of no expression, or even thought, in prayers and entreaties, which does not imply that these prayers have an influence. Thirdly, this figure is very dangerous, and leads directly, and even unavoidably, to impiety and blasphemy. 'Tis a natural infirmity of men to imagine that their prayers have a direct influence; and this infirmity must be extremely fostered and encouraged by the constant use of prayer. Thus, all wise men have excluded the use of images and pictures in prayer, though they certainly enliven devotion; because 'tis found by experience, that with the vulgar these visible representations draw too much towards them, and become the only objects of devotion."[164:1]

The literary history of this sermon is curious and instructive. When its author received his appointment of professor of divinity in 1744, a party in the church opposed his being admitted in the usual manner as a member of the presbytery of Glasgow; and one of their methods of attack was to charge him with heretical opinions, promulgated in this sermon, of which the first edition had been then published. It is singular enough, in comparing their charge with Hume's criticism, to find the two attacks brought against the same point, though with different weapons. "The purport of the whole went to charge Mr. Leechman with having laid too little stress on the merit of the satisfaction and intercession of our blessed Saviour,

as the sole ground of our acceptance with God in prayer, and with teaching Christians to look for pardon and acceptance on other grounds than this."[165:1]

At this time, we find Hume making an effort to obtain a professorship in Edinburgh. Dr. Pringle, subsequently Sir John Pringle, and President of the Royal Society of London,—

"Who sat in Newton's chair,

And wonder'd how the devil he got there,"—

held the chair of "ethics and pneumatic philosophy"[165:2] in the university of Edinburgh. In 1742, he was appointed physician to the Earl of Stair, commander of the British troops in the Low Countries; and through this circumstance it will be seen, from the following letter, that Hume contemplated a vacancy, and that he was employing the usual means for securing his own appointment to the chair.

Hume to William Mure of Caldwell.

"Dear Will,—I shall tell you how my affair stands. Dr. Pringle has been absent two years by allowance, and about six weeks ago wrote a letter to the provost, in which he seemed in a manner to have resigned his office; and desired the council, if they thought the university any way a sufferer by his absence, to send him over a resignation in form, which he would sign, and then they might proceed to the choice of a successor. Mr. Couts,[165:3] upon receiving this, mentioned me to several of the council, and desired me to mention myself as a

candidate to all my friends; not with a view of soliciting or making interest, but in order to get the public voice on my side, that he might with the more assurance employ his interest in my behalf. I accordingly did so; and being allowed to make use of the provost's name, I found presently that I should have the whole council on my side, and that, indeed, I should have no antagonist. But when the provost produced the doctor's letter to the council, he discovered that he had in secret wrote differently to some of his friends, who still insisted that the town should give him allowance to be absent another year. The whole council, however, except two or three, exclaimed against this proposal, and it appeared evidently, that if the matter had been put to a vote, there would have been a majority of ten to one against the doctor. But Mr. Couts, though his authority be quite absolute in the town, yet makes it a rule to govern them with the utmost gentleness and moderation: and this good maxim he sometimes pushes even to an extreme. For the sake of unanimity, therefore, he agrees to an expedient, started by one of the doctor's friends, which he thought would be a compliment to the doctor, and yet would serve the same purpose as the immediate declaration of a vacancy in the office. This expedient was to require either the doctor's resignation, or a declaration upon honour, that whether it were peace or war, or in any event, he would against November, 1745, return to his office, and resign his commission of physician to the army, or any other employment incompatible with his attendance in this place. This last condition, Mr. Couts thinks it impossible he will comply with, because he has a guinea a-day at present, as physician to the army, along with a good deal of business and half-pay during life. And there seems

at present to be small chance for a peace before the term here assigned. I find, however, that some are of a contrary opinion; and particularly several of the doctor's friends say that he will sign the obligation above-mentioned. We shall receive his answer in a fortnight, upon which my success seems entirely to depend.

"In the mean time, I have received another offer, which I shall tell you as a friend, but desire you may not mention to any body. My Lord Garlees[167:1] received a commission from Mr. Murray of Broughton[167:2] to look out for a travelling tutor to his son, who is at present at Glasgow. My lord inclines to give me the preference, but I could not positively accept, till I had seen the end of this affair, which is so near a crisis. Please to inform me of any particulars that you know with regard to the young man, his family, &c., that in case the former project fail, I may deliberate upon the other. The accusation of heresy, deism, scepticism, atheism, &c. &c. &c., was started against me; but never took, being bore down by the contrary authority of all the good company in town. But what surprised me extremely, was to find that this accusation was supported by the pretended authority of Mr. Hutcheson and even Mr. Leechman, who, 'tis said, agreed that I was a very unfit person for such an office. This appears to me absolutely incredible, especially with regard to the latter gentleman. For, as to Mr. Hutcheson, all my friends think that he has

been rendering me bad offices to the utmost of his power. And I know that Mr. Couts, to whom I said rashly that I thought I could depend upon Mr. Hutcheson's friendship and recommendation,—I say, Mr. Couts now speaks of that professor rather as my enemy than as my friend. What can be the meaning of this conduct in that celebrated and benevolent moralist, I cannot imagine. I shall be glad to find, for the honour of philosophy, that I am mistaken: and, indeed, I hope so too; and beg of you to inquire a little into the matter, but very cautiously, lest I make him my open and professed enemy, which I would willingly avoid. Here then it behoves you to be very discreet.

"'Tis probable Mr. Murray of Broughton may consult Mr. Hutcheson and the other professors of Glasgow, before he fix absolutely on a tutor for his son. We shall then see whether he really entertains a bad opinion of my orthodoxy, or is only unwilling that I should be Professor of Ethics in Edinburgh; lest that town, being in the neighbourhood of Glasgow, should spread its contagion all around it, and even infect the students of the latter university.

"I have passed a week with Mr. Oswald at Kirkcaldy. He makes his compliments to you. He has shown me the whole economy of the navy, the source of the navy debt, with many other branches of public business. He seems to have a great genius for these affairs, and I fancy will go far in that way if he perseveres."

"Edinburgh, August 4, 1744."[168:1]

It may easily be imagined that both Mr. Hutcheson and Dr. Leechman would be opposed to the appointment

of David Hume as a teacher of moral philosophy in one of the universities; and that they might entertain this opinion along with an honest admiration of his character, and an appreciation of the value of his talents when exercised in another sphere. It is at all events gratifying to find, that whatever opposition Hutcheson may have made, he was influenced by no sordid motive, as he was offered the chair, and refused it. On 27th March, 1745, a letter in which Dr. Pringle resigned the chair, was read to the Town Council. On 3d April, a nomination to the chair was transmitted to Hutcheson.[169:1] He declined the honour, in a rather verbose letter, in which he speaks in the tone of one whose tenure of life cannot be expected to be strong enough to fit him for new labours: yet he was then only fifty years old. His death occurred two years later, and he probably felt that his long series of intellectual labours had exhausted too much of the stamina of life to leave him the prospect of a successful career in a new sphere of duty. On Hutcheson's letter being read to the council, on 10th April, 1745, the minutes bear, that "several other persons having been named as proper candidates, it was thereupon moved in council, whether to proceed to take the ministers' avisamentum betwixt and next council day, in order to facilitate their choice, or to delay the same for a month or six weeks, so that the members of council might with the greater leisure deliberate thereanent; and the rolls having thereupon been called, and the vote marked, it carried delay for said space."

It is probable that the "ministers' avisamentum," whatever may be precisely designed by that phrase,

was not such a recommendation as would turn the minds of the members of council in favour of Hume. His name is not mentioned in the council records in connexion with the proceedings, and the vacancy was filled up on 5th June, 1745, by the appointment of William Cleghorn, who had acted for Dr. Pringle in his absence.

The date of these transactions, brings us into the middle of a very curious episode in Hume's history, which must now be examined.

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FOOTNOTES:

[139:1] Essay on the Independency of Parliament.

[141:1] This concluding sentence was added in the third Edition, (1748,) in which also the passage within brackets was modified.

[145:1] Tytler's Life of Kames, i. 98, et seq.

[147:1] Ab his animi motibus purioribus, et tranquillo stabilique suae beatitudinis appetitione, quae ratione utitur duce, diversi plane sunt motus quidam vehementiores et perturbati, quibus, secundum naturae suae legem, saepe agitatur mens, ubi certa species ipsi obversatur, atque bruto quodam impetu, fertur ad quaedam agenda, prosequenda, aut fugienda, quamvis nondum, adhibita in consilium ratione, secum statuerat haec ad vitam facere vel beatam vel miseram. Hos motus quisque intelliget, qui, in se descendens, in memoriam revocaverit quali animi impetu fuerat abreptus, quae passus, quum libidine, ambitione, ira, odio, invidia, amore, laetitia, aut metu, agitabatur; etiam ubi nihil de earum rerum, quae mentem commoverant, cursu ad vitam beatam aut miseram serio cogitarat. Quid quod saepe in partes contrarias distineantur et distrahantur homines, cum aliud cupido, mens vero, ejusque appetitus tranquillus, aliud suadeat.

[147:2] Diximus ex virtutis comprobatione ardentiorem efflorescere amorem, in eos qui virtute videntur praediti. Quumque in omnes suas vires, affectiones, sensus, vota, appetitiones, reflectere possit mens, eaque contemplari; ille ipse decori et honesti sensus acrior, ardentior virtutis appetitio, et honestiorum omnium amor et caritas, omnino comprobabitur; neque ulla animi affectio magis, quam optimi cujusque dilectiones et caritates.

[148:1] See Caractéres Ch. 11. De L'homme.

[148:2] Qui multiplicem sensuum horum perspexerit varietatem, quibus res adeo dispares hominibus commendantur appetendae; animique propensiones pariter multiplices, et mutabiles; et inter se saepe pugnantes appetitus, et desideria, quibus suam quisque insequitur utilitatem, eamque variam, aut non minus variam voluptatem; eam etiam ingenii humanitatem, affectionesque benignas multiplices; humana huic natura prima specie videbitur, chaos quoddam, rudisque rerum non bene junctarum moles, nisi altius repetendo, nexum quendam, et ordinem a natura constitutum, et principatum deprehenderit, aut ἡγημονικὸν aliquod, ad modum caeteris ponendum idoneum. Philosophiae munus et hoc investigare, atque monstrare qua demum ratione haec sint ordinanda; miro enim artificio

Hanc Deus, et melior litem natura diremit.

[149:1] Hanc vitam caducam et aerumnosam.

[149:2] The chapter De Dominii acquirendi Rationibus.

[149:3] De nuptiis consanguineorum in linea transversa, quas adferunt rationes viri docti, vix quiquam affirmant. Quia vero apud plurimas gentes legis Judaicae ignaras, ejusmodi nuptiae habebantur impurae et nefariae, credibile est et eas in prima mundi aetate lege aliqua positiva, cujus diu manserunt vestigia, fuisse a Deo vetitas. Ea autem lex hoc praecipue spectasse videtur, ut plures familiae gentesque ea devinciantur caritate et benevolentia, quae ex affinitate et sanguinis conjunctione oriri solet. Alia forte commoda hominibus nascituris prospexit Deus, ex eo quod gentes variae, conjugiis inter se misceantur.

[150:1] This is in reference to the word despotica being put in italics as a modern barbarism.

[150:2] Civium quisque non sibi solum, verum et liberis, a civitate defensionem stipulatur, et omnia vitae civilis commoda. Liberis gestum est negotium utilissimum; unde citra suum consensum, ad ea omnia pro ipsorum viribus, facienda praestanda adstringuntur, quae ob istiusmodi commoda ab adultis jure flagitari poterant. Nihil autem aequius quam ut singuli, pro virili parte, eam tueantur civitatem, neque ab ea intempestive discedant, cujus beneficio diu protecti, innumeris potiti fuerant vitae excultae commodis; utque haec a majoribus accepta ad posteros transmittant.

[151:1] The practice of sending young men to the continental universities, seems to have continued for a longer time in the north than in the south. Within these few years it was not uncommon north of the Grampians, to meet with elderly country gentlemen, recalling to each other the memorable events of their student life at Leyden. The practice appears to be reviving in a favour for the German universities; but perhaps it is now more frequently followed by the commercial classes than by the country gentlemen.

[155:1] MS. R.S.E. This letter is printed in the Literary Gazette for 1822, p. 635.

[155:2] Mr. Oswald of Dunnikier.

[156:1] MS. R.S.E. Literary Gazette, 1822, p. 635.

[157:1] Memorials of James Oswald, p. 82.

[157:2] Ib. p. 19-20.

[158:1] This refers to the taking Hanoverian troops into British pay, warmly debated in the House of Commons on 10th December, 1742.

[159:1] The Earl of Glasgow's house, on the coast of Ayrshire.

[160:1] MS. R.S.E. Literary Gazette, 1822, p. 636.

[161:1] Sermons by William Leechman, D.D. to which is prefixed some account of the author's life, and his character, by James Wodrow, D.D. 1789, i. 34.

[164:1] MS. R.S.E.

[165:1] Memoir, ut supra, p. 23.

[165:2] Pneumatic Philosophy must here be taken in its old sense, as meaning Psychology.

[165:3] John Couts or Coutts, a native of Dundee, at that time Lord Provost of Edinburgh. He was the father of Thomas Coutts, the celebrated banker.

[167:1] The title of courtesy of the eldest son of the Earl of Galloway.

[167:2] There were two Murrays of Broughton. The one had a small piece of property in Tweeddale, between Noblehouse and Moffat; and soon after the date of this letter acquired an infamous celebrity by giving evidence against the rebels, after having acted as secretary to the Pretender. The other, who was probably the person Hume had in view, had a considerable estate in Galloway.

[168:1] MS. R.S.E.

[169:1] Town Council Records, where he is called George Hutcheson, instead of Francis.

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CHAPTER V.

1745-1747. Æt. 34-36.

Hume's Residence with the Marquis of Annandale—His Predecessor Colonel Forrester—Correspondence with Sir James Johnstone and Mr. Sharp of Hoddam—Quarrel with Captain Vincent—Estimate of his Conduct, and Inquiry into the Circumstances in which he was placed—Appointed Secretary to General St. Clair—Accompanies the expedition against the Court of France as Judge-Advocate—Gives an Account of the Attack on Port L'Orient—A tragic Incident.

Hume's history of his residence with the Marquis of Annandale, is given in the following brief terms, in his "own life." "In 1745, I received a letter from the Marquis of Annandale, inviting me to come and live with him in England: I found, also, that the friends and family of that young nobleman were desirous of putting him under my care and direction, for the state of his mind and health required it. I lived with him a twelvemonth. My appointments during that time made a considerable accession to my small fortune."

It might have been favourable perhaps to the dignity of his position in the world of letters, that this episode in his history had never been more fully

narrated; for a philosopher conducting a litigation for £75 of arrears of salary, is apt to experience that diminution of respect in the eyes of the public, which the prince of Condé discovered that a hero suffered in those of his valet. Since, however, many statements have been given to the world, connected with that part of Hume's life, and many charges and countercharges among the persons connected with it are preserved, it is necessary to give such a brief view of the whole affair, as may enable the reader to estimate the respective merits of the parties in the dispute. A collection of documents on the subject was lately published by a gentleman to whom the literary history of Scotland is indebted for many other services;[171:1] and from his book the following statement is compiled.

The person with whom David Hume was thus connected was the last Marquis of Annandale, on whose death that title became dormant. On the 5th of March, 1748, he was found, on an inquest from the Court of Chancery in England, to be a lunatic, incapable of governing himself and managing his own affairs, and to have been so since 12th December, 1744, a few months anterior to Hume's engagement with him. The correspondence does not give the

reader the notion of one reduced to so abject a mental state, but rather that of a man nervously timid and reserved; distrustful of himself and his ability to transact business with other people, but not quite incapable of managing his affairs, though exciteable, and liable to be driven into fits of passion by causes not susceptible of being anticipated. A party to the correspondence, talking of him as in an improved condition, says: "My Lord walked out with me lately two or three miles, received and returned the compliments of the hat of those we met, and without any shyness or reserve: and bears to stand by, and hear me talk with any farmer or countryman. This is a vast change for the better, and the greatest appearance that it will continue."[172:1] He appears to have been haunted by a spirit of literary ambition. Hume says in a letter to Lord Elibank, "I have copied out half a dozen of epigrams, which I hope will give you entertainment. The thought in them is indeed little inferior to that in the celebrated Epigrams of Rousseau; though the versification be not so correct. What a pity! I say this on account both of the author and myself; for I am afraid I must leave him." And on another occasion he alludes at length

to a far more extensive literary achievement, a novel, which the excited Marquis had written, and which those about him had found it necessary to print, circulating a few copies, and advertising it in one newspaper to allay any suspicions in the author's mind that a thousand copies had not been printed. Hume says:

"You would certainly be a little surprised and vexed on receiving a printed copy of the novel, which was in hands when you left London. If I did not explain the mystery to you, I believe I told you, that I hoped that affair was entirely over, by my employing Lord Marchmont and Lord Bolingbroke's authority against publishing that novel; though you will readily suppose that neither of these two noble Lords ever perused it. This machine operated for six weeks; but the vanity of the author returned with redoubled force, fortified by suspicions, and increased by the delay. 'Pardie,' dit il, 'je crois que ces messieurs veulent être les seules Seigneurs d'Angleterre qui eussent de l'esprit. Mais je leur montrerai ce que le petit A—— peut faire aussi.' In short, we were obliged to print off thirty copies, to make him believe that we had printed a thousand, and that they were to be dispersed all over the kingdom.

"My Lady Marchioness will also receive a copy, and I am afraid it may give her a good deal of uneasiness, by reason of the story alluded to in the novel, and which she may imagine my Lord is resolved to bring to execution. Be so good, therefore, as to inform her, that I hope this affair is all over. I discovered, about a fortnight ago, that one of the papers sent to that damsel had been sent back by her under cover to his rival, Mr. M'——, and that she had plainly, by that step, sacrificed him to her other lover. This was real matter of fact, and I had the

good fortune to convince him of it; so that his pride seems to have got the better of his passion, and he never talks of her at present."

The "novel" appears to have referred to some little event in its author's private history. If there be a copy of it now any where existing, it is to be feared that it wastes its fragrance on the desert air, as the existence of so choice a flower of literature, were it in the possession of any collector, could not fail to have been rumoured through the bibliographical world.

The Marquis had previously been attended by a succession of hired companions, of whom one was a man of considerable distinction, Colonel James Forrester,[174:1] a person who, in the Scottish society of the age, seems to have united some of the qualities of a Chesterfield to a like proportion of those of a Beau

Fielding. He was the author of "The Polite Philosopher;" a lively little essay, sometimes published along with Chesterfield's "Advice," in which the author is so much at ease with his reader, that he discourses in prose or poetry as his own humour dictates. Johnson said, with reference to the man and the book, that "he was himself the great polite he drew;" and if it did not happen that his coxcombry excited the poor invalid's irritable nerves to distraction, he was probably an infinitely more suitable man for the office of companion to the Marquis of Annandale, than David Hume.

The overtures to Hume were made by the Marquis himself; who was, according to an expression used by Sir James Johnstone, when writing to Hume, "charmed with something contained in his Essays." The place of residence of the Marquis was Weldhall, near St. Alban's, in Hertfordshire. Hume had to go to London to make the anticipatory arrangements, and he commenced his companionship on 1st April, 1745. The insurrection, headed by Prince Charles Edward in Scotland, commenced four months

afterwards; and there is perhaps nothing more curious in the whole dispute than the indifference with which this matter, fraught with so much importance to his countrymen, is spoken of by Hume; while there could not probably be a better answer to those who afterwards insinuated that he was a Jacobite, than an account of the manner in which his thoughts were occupied during that struggle. He occasionally complains that he is prevented from personally discussing, with the individuals interested, the matters he is writing about, on account of "the present unhappy troubles;" and the following portion of a letter to Sir James Johnstone of Westerhall, the brother of the Marquis's stepfather, written immediately after he had left his attendance on the Marquis, is the only occasion in which he appears to show the least sympathy in the conflict or its results.

"Portsmouth, June 6, 1746.

"Dear Sir,—I have always sympathized very cordially with you, whenever I met with any of the names, wherein you was interested, in any of the public papers; but I hope that one of the persons is now safe by his escape, and the other protected by her sex and innocence.[176:1] We live not now in a time, when public crimes are supposed to cancel all private ties, or when the duties of relation, even though executed beyond the usual bounds, will render the

persons criminal. I am willing, therefore, to flatter myself, that your anxiety must now be in a great measure over, and that a more happy conclusion of so calamitous an affair could not be expected, either for private individuals or for the public. Some little time ago, we had here a conversation with regard to L——, and other persons in her condition, when General St. Clair said, that he heard, from some of the ministers, that the intentions of the menaces, or even of the intended prosecutions (if they went so far,) were not to proceed to execution; but only to teach our countrywomen (many of whom had gone beyond all bounds) that their sex was no absolute protection to them, and that they were equally exposed to the law with the other sex. However, I doubt not but your friend has no occasion for their clemency, whatever may be the case with the other ladies in the same situation, who had particularly valued themselves upon their activity and courage."

It is now necessary to enter on a subject, which one feels a natural inclination to postpone, as long as the order of events will afford any excuse for looking at other things: the treatment Hume experienced in this his self-adopted slavery. He had to deal with a capricious unreasonable employer; to that he would, in the circumstances, philosophically reconcile himself. He states in one of his letters, that he lived with him "in a more equal way of complaisance and good humour than could well have been expected. Some little disgusts and humours could not be prevented, and never were proposed to be of any consequence." But he had another and a far more unpleasant person to deal with, in a certain Philip Vincent, a captain

in the navy,[178:1] a relation of the Dowager-marchioness of Annandale. For some months matters appear to have gone smoothly with all concerned. The following letter to one of his esteemed friends, shows that Hume was consoling himself for the probable dissipation of his hopes of a professorship, by reflecting on his good fortune in being connected with so amiable and excellent a man as Captain Vincent:—

Hume to Matthew Sharp of Hoddam.[178:2]

"My Dear Sir,—I am informed that such a popular clamour has been raised against me in Edinburgh, on account of scepticism, heterodoxy, and other hard names, which confound the ignorant, that my friends find some difficulty, in working out the point of my professorship, which once appeared so easy. Did I need a testimonial for my orthodoxy, I should certainly appeal to you; for you know that I always imitated Job's friends, and defended the cause of Providence when [you] attacked it, on account of the headachs you felt after a deba[uch.] But, as a more particular explication of that particular seems superfluous, I shall only apply to you for a renewal of

your good offices with your nephew, Lord Tinwal,[179:1] whose interest with Yetts and Allan may be of service to me. There is no time to lose; so that I must beg you to be speedy in writing to him, or speaking to him on that head. A word to the wise. Even that is not necessary to a friend, such as I have always esteemed and found you to be.

"I live here very comfortably with the Marquis of Annandale, who, I suppose you have heard, sent me a letter of invitation, along with a bill of one hundred pounds, about two months ago. Every thing is much better than I expected, from the accounts I heard after I came to London; for the secrecy with which I stole away from Edinburgh, and which I thought necessary for preserving my interest there, kept me entirely ignorant of his situation.

"My lord never was in so good a way [before.] He has a regular family, honest servants, and every thing is managed genteelly and with economy. He has intrusted all his English affairs to a mighty honest friendly man, Captain Vincent, who is cousin-german to the Marchioness. And as my lord has now taken so strong a turn to solitude and repose, as he formerly had to company and agitation, 'tis to be hoped that his good parts and excellent dispositions may at last, being accompanied with more health and tranquillity, render him a comfort to his friends, if not an ornament

to his country. As you live in the neighbourhood of the Marchioness, it may give her a pleasure to hear these particulars. I am,[180:1] &c.

"Weldehall, near St. Albans,
"April 25, 1745."

On the other hand, we find Captain Vincent, when he speaks of Hume, saying, "I think it very happy that he is with my lord, and still more so if he is constantly to remain with him, which I do not foresee but that he may; and I must do him the justice to say, that after having had time enough to weigh the temper, situation, and circumstances of the person he has to deal with, he very candidly owned that it was what he could cheerfully abide with." And again in August, "Mr. Hume is almost wholly taken up with our friend personally, so that he can scarce have the resource of amusement, or even of business, which is somewhat hard upon a man of erudition and letters, whom indeed I think very deserving and good natured; and whilst he can be his companion, there could not be a better made choice of." The captain, in other letters, speaks of Hume as "a very worthy and knowing man," and as "My friend Mr. Hume;" and seems at one time to have wished that an annuity of £100 a-year should be settled upon him, without reference to his continuance in his office, and in addition to the salary he might receive while he did so. But the dawn was soon afterwards overcast.

Hume, in the first place, disliked some of Captain Vincent's proposed arrangements, as to the disposal

of the person of the Marquis, and seems to have soon suspected him of wishing to carry through designs which would materially affect the interest of some of the Marquis's relations. It is probable that a feeling of friendliness, or of duty, may have prompted him to interfere. It may be so, and he may in reality have done good; but the impression produced by the correspondence is, regret that Hume did not at once retire in lofty scorn from the scene of these paltry cabals.

Captain Vincent held a commission from the Marquis to "hire and dismiss servants," and perform other like functions. It was in virtue of this authority that he dealt with Hume; and he seems at first to have thought, that in the person of the philosopher he had met with a sort of superior and valuable member of the fraternity of upper-servants. Though Hume had then written the works on which a large portion of his European reputation was afterwards built, this man seems to have regarded his literary abilities as merely an enhancement of the qualities which suited him for his servile office. Looking upon himself as a member of the family, he appears to have had much the same disposition to admit that Hume's literary distinction put them on a par with each other, as he might have had to admit that the display of an unexpected degree of musical talent in the servants' hall would qualify one of its frequenters to be hail-fellow well met with him in the dining-room. Whether Hume was right or wrong in the suspicions he entertained of Vincent, the conduct of Vincent to Hume was brutal, and that on his own showing.

One of Hume's views, as to the proper treatment of the Marquis, was, that the isolation of Weldhall was unsuitable to his condition: that he should be in a

a more cheerful residence, and one in other respects more suitable; and the dispute appears to have been for some time suspended on this peg. On the 31st October, Hume writes:—

"What is the mighty matter in dispute? Only about hiring a few carts to remove the family to another house, in order to quit this; which, for very good reasons, is infinitely disagreeable to your friend, very dangerous, will be uninhabitable for cold during the winter season, and costs £300 to £400 a-year, at least, to the family, more than is requisite." And afterwards he says of Vincent:—"He said, when he was here, that we shall live in this house till the lease was out, in spite of all opposition."

In the letter from which the preceding passage is taken, he says to Sir James Johnstone,—

"I must begin by complaining of you for having yoked me here with a man of the Captain's character, without giving me the least hint concerning it, if it was known to you, as, indeed, it is no secret to the world. You seemed satisfied with his conduct, and even praised him to me; which I am fully persuaded was the effect of your caution, not your conviction. However, I, who was altogether a stranger, entered into the family with so gross a prepossession. I found a man who took an infinite deal of pains for another, with the utmost professions both of disinterestedness and friendship to him and me; and I readily concluded that such a one must be either one of the best, or one of the worst of men. I can easily excuse myself for having judged at first on the favourable side; and must confess that, when light first began to break in upon me, I resisted it as I would a

temptation of the devil. I thought it, however, proper to keep my eyes open for farther observation; till the strangest and most palpable facts, which I shall inform you of at meeting, put the matter out of all doubt to me.

"There is nothing he would be fonder of than to sow dissension betwixt my Lady and you, whom he hates and fears. He flatters, and caresses, and praises, and hates me also; and would be glad to chase me away, as doing me the honour, and, I hope, the justice of thinking me a person very unfit for his purposes. As he wants all manner of pretext from my conduct and behaviour, he has broken his word."

That these statements are not those of a secret foe emitting calumnies in the dark, is made clear by the concluding terms of the letter, in which the writer, instead of asking his correspondent to keep its contents secret—a very common clause when people, thrown much in each other's way, write about each other's conduct to third parties—says, "I wish you would bring this letter south with you, that, if you will allow it, I may show it to him,"—that is, to Vincent.

The excitement communicated to Hume's nerves on this occasion, is shown by the following short letter to Sir James, so much at variance with the usual character of his writings:—

"God forgive you, dear Sir, God forgive you, for neither coming to us, nor writing to us. The unaccountable, and, I may say, the inhuman treatment we meet with here, throws your friend into rage and fury, and me into the greatest melancholy. My only comfort is when I think of your arrival; but still I know not when I can propose to myself that satisfaction. I flatter myself you have received two short

letters I wrote within this month; though the uncertainty of the post gives me apprehension. I must again entreat you to favour me with a short line, to let me know the time you can propose to be with us; for, if it be near, I shall wait with patience and with pleasure; if distant, I shall write you at length, that you and my Lady Marchioness may judge of our circumstances and situation.—I am, Dear Sir, yours, with great sincerity,

D. H."

Unfortunately, the precise objects which the parties respectively desired to accomplish cannot be distinctly ascertained, as the letters generally refer to explanations which it will be necessary for the parties to make when they meet, because the troubled character of the times made private letters liable to be opened and inspected. Hume at the same time, being in the midst of a considerable retinue of servants under the control and management of his enemy, was in dread that spies were set on his motions. Thus he says to Sir James Johnstone,—

"I did write you the very first occasion after I came out thither. But I find my letters have great difficulty to reach you; for which reason I shall put this into the post-house myself, to prevent such practices as I suspect are used in this family. I have some reason also to think that spies are placed upon my most indifferent actions. I told you that I had had more conversation with one of the servants than was natural, and for what reason. Perhaps this fellow had the same privilege granted him as other spies, to rail against his employer, in order to draw in an unguarded man to be still more unguarded. But such practices, if real, (for I am not altogether certain,) can only turn to the confusion of those who use them.

Where there is no arbitrary power, innocence must be safe; and if there be arbitrary power in this family, 'tis long since I knew I could not remain in it. What a scene is this for a man nourished in philosophy and polite letters to enter into, all of a sudden, and unprepared! But I can laugh, whatever happens; and the newness of such practices rather diverts me. At first they caused indignation and hatred; and even (though I am ashamed to confess it) melancholy and sorrow."

What a scene indeed!

The chief incidental light that can be thrown on the nature of the suspicions which Hume entertained of Vincent, is derived from the position of the person to whom the greater part of these letters were addressed—Sir James Johnstone, who has already been alluded to as a connexion of the Annandale family. His brother, Colonel John Johnstone, had married the Marchioness-dowager, the mother of the Marquis, and by her had three children. She was an heiress; and though the Scottish estates, following an entail, were destined to pass to another family, her own property would be inherited by the children of her second marriage, on the death of the Marquis. The accumulated rents of his estates, being movable property, would also be the subject of succession, different from that of the entail; and therefore the management of this property, during his imbecility, was a matter of much moment to some of his connexions. The public had ample opportunity of knowing the extent of these accumulated funds. They rose to the sum of £415,000, and were the subject of long litigation both in England and Scotland. The "Annandale cases" had a material effect in settling in Britain the important principle which had been previously adopted over the greater part of Europe, that the movable or

personal estate of a deceased person must be distributed according to the law of the country where he had his domicile or permanent residence at the time of his death.

It is pretty evident that Vincent had certain family projects in view in connexion with the management of the estate, and that Hume wished to defeat them. Before the outbreak of the quarrel, the latter had written to Sir James:

"I shall endeavour to give you my opinion, which I am certain would be yours, were you to pass a day amongst us. I am sorry, therefore, to inform you, that nothing now remains but to take care of your friend's person, in the most decent and convenient manner; and, with regard to his fortune, to be attentive that the great superplus, which will remain after providing for these purposes, should be employed by my Lady and your nephews, as the true proprietors, for their honour and advantage."

Having written a civil letter to Vincent, stating that he desired the intervention of Sir James Johnstone, and that he believed, in the mean time, that the Marquis was satisfied with the engagement, and did not wish him to be dismissed, he thus hints to Sir James his suspicions of Vincent's views.

"I must own it was with excessive reluctance I wrote so softening and obliging a letter to this man; but as I knew that such a method of proceeding was conformable to your intentions, I thought it my duty to comply. However, I easily saw it would all be vain, and would only fortify him in his arrogance. Do you think that the absolute possession of so ample a fortune, to which this is the first requisite step, is a prize to be resigned for a few fair words or flattering

professions? He deals too much in that bait himself ever to be caught with it by others.

"I think this is the last opportunity that will ever offer of retrieving the family and yourself (as far as you are concerned with the family,) from falling into absolute slavery to so odious a master. If, in the beginning, and while he is watched by jealous eyes, he can attempt such things, what will he not do when he has fixed his authority, and has no longer any inspector over him?

"'Tis lucky, therefore, that this, as it seems the last, is so good an opportunity. Nothing was ever so barefaced as his conduct. To quarrel with me, merely because I civilly supported a most reasonable project; to threaten me with his vengeance, if I opened my lips to you concerning your friend's affairs; to execute that threat, without a pretext, or without consulting you; these steps give us such advantages over him as must not be neglected.

"I hope you will not take it amiss, if I say, that your conduct, with regard to your friend, and to those who have at different times been about him, has all along been too gentle and cautious. I had considerably shaken the authority of this man (though I had no authority myself,) merely by my firmness and resolution. He now assumes more, when he observes your precautions.

"But, as I do not believe that, though your firmness may daunt him, it will ever engage him to loose hold of so fine a prize, it will be requisite to think of more effectual remedies. Happily there is time enough both to contrive and to execute. For, though he makes me the offer of present payment, (which I hope you observed,) in order to engage me to leave you presently, he shall not get rid of me so easily."

Hume appears, with a marvellous degree of

self-restraint—marvellous in a man of independent spirit—to have felt that it was his duty not to be driven from his post by the insults of Vincent. He says to Sir James Johnstone, when apparently wearied out, "I fancy he must prevail at last; and I shall take care not to be a bone of contention betwixt you, unless you think I am the most advantageous piece of ground on which you can resist him." His opinion, that the interests of the other relations were concerned in his resisting Vincent's designs, is confirmed by the following letter, also addressed to Sir James Johnstone:—

"He [Vincent] desired you should intermeddle as little as possible in these affairs; adding, that he intended, by keeping my Lord's person and his English affairs in his own hands, to free my Lady from all slavery to you.

"Ever since, no entreaties, no threatenings have been spared to make me keep silence to you; to which my constant answer was, that I thought not that consistent with my duty. I told him freely, that I would lay all the foregoing reasons before you, when you came to London, and hoped you would prevail with him to alter his opinion. If not, we should all write, if you thought proper, to my Lady Marchioness, in order to have her determination. The endeavouring, then, to make me keep silence to you, was also to keep my Lady in the dark about such material points, since I could not have access to let her know the situation of our affairs, by any other means.

"He offered to let me leave your friend in the beginning of winter, if I pleased, provided I would make no opposition to his plan,—that is, would not inform you; for I was not capable of making any other opposition. He added, he would allow me my

salary for the whole year, and that he would himself supply my place, leave his house in London, and live with your friend. Can all this pains be taken, merely for the difference betwixt one house and another?

"An evening or two before his departure from Weldehall, he offered me the continuance of the same friendship, which had always subsisted betwixt us, if I would promise not to open my lips to you about this matter.

"The morning of his departure, he burst out all of a sudden, when the subject was not talked of, into threatenings, and told me, that, if I ever entered upon this subject with you, I should repent it. He went out of the house presently, and these were almost his last words."

The circumstance of these "threatenings" is amply confirmed by a letter of Vincent himself, addressed to the Marchioness; an admirable specimen of the outpouring of a vulgar and insolent mind:—

"I will venture to say I have the knack of parrying and managing him, but that Mr. Hume, who is so extraordinarily well paid, only for his company, and lodged and lives, that, if it was at his own expense, he could not do it for £200 a-year, should be gloomy and inconsolable for want of society, and show, for this good while past, little or no sign of content or gratitude to me for all I have done, and the best intentions to serve him, and principally promoted his being in this station, and repeatedly offered to come out frequently during the winter and stay two or three days at a time, whilst he should be in town. I shall do so, but nowise in consideration to him, but out of tenderness and regard to our friend. Mr. Hume is a scholar, and I believe an honest man; but one of his

best friends at Edinburgh at first wrote me, he had conversed more with books than the world, or any of the elegant part of it, chiefly owing to the narrowness of his fortune. He does not in this case seem to know his own interest, though I have long perceived it is what he mostly has a peculiar eye to. Hereafter I shall consider him no more than if I had never known him. Our friend in reality does not desire he should stay with him. I don't see his policy in offering to oppose my pleasure, and think it very wrong in him to mention his appealing to Sir James Johnstone. I dare say your ladyship thinks as I do, that it is unbecoming for me to be in a subservient state, in such a case, to any body. I am very zealously disposed to be accountable to you; both regard, civility, justice, long friendship and acquaintance, as well as near relationship, are all the motives in the world for it; and I hoped my being concerned would produce all possible good effects in your having constant, true, and satisfactory accounts, as well as that, in due time, those advantages in your own affairs might be accruing, which you are so justly entitled to, and which I have before declared to be one of the main ends to be accomplished, and which I believe you think I could effect better than another. It is not one of the most pleasing circumstances that, in the situation of our friend, it is an inlet to strangers, taken in by accident, to be too much acquainted with private family affairs. I certainly desire that Sir James and I should be in good correspondence, and I believe he is satisfied of that; but this man, taking it into his head to thwart my methods, and all to gratify his own desire of being near town in the winter forsooth, after the offer I have made of giving him relief sometimes,

and as nothing will satisfy some dispositions, I shall, at the end of the year, close all accounts, in which there will be done what was never done before, a complete state of the receipt and the expense, and then very willingly desire to be excused from having any farther concern. Most certainly I would do every thing in my power to serve and oblige you; but if you desire the continuance of my care, please to write to Sir James to signify occasionally to Mr. Hume that the management is left to me, and not to a stranger, who, if he is not satisfied, is at his liberty to remove from such attendance."

This illustration of character would be incomplete without a passage in a subsequent letter, in which, after Hume had ceased to attend on the Marquis, Vincent characterizes the sort of person who would be a desirable successor.

"If any proper person is about him again whilst I am concerned, terms for their behaviour must be specified, and as they wax fat and are encouraged, they must be discreet enough and reasonable in their nature, so as not to kick. Such deportment would engage any good offices of mine, in favour of a worthy man, fit for the purpose, which, I confess, is very hard to find, and possibly my Lord will not care to have any body put upon him by way of terms of continuance."

That the iron of this bondage entered into his soul, is apparent in many passages of Hume's letters. He regretted that he had left independence in a humble home, for dependence in a lordly mansion: he regretted that he had been led to meddle with intrigues, in which a vulgar selfish man, who knew

the world, was far more than a match for a profound philosopher. How wise it had been for him had he never deserted the humble prospects of an independent life, the following complaints, addressed to Lord Elibank, testify:—

"Meanwhile, I own to you, that my heart rebels against this unworthy treatment; and nothing but the prospect of depending entirely on you, and being independent of him, could make me submit to it. I have fifty resolutions about it. My loss, in ever hearkening to his treacherous professions, has been very great; but, as it is now irreparable, I must make the best of a bad bargain. I am proud to say that, as I am no plotter myself, I never suspect others to be such, till it be too late; and, having always lived independent, and in such a manner as that it never was any one's interest to profess false friendship to me, I am not sufficiently on my guard in this particular. . . . . My way of living is more melancholy than ever was submitted to by any human creature, who ever had any hopes or pretensions to any thing better; and if to confinement, solitude, and bad company, be also added these marks of disregard, . . . . I shall say nothing, but only that books, study, leisure, frugality, and independence, are a great deal better."

The filling up of the cup of his slights and injuries, and the termination of his servitude, is thus described by Hume; and one reads it with a feeling of relief, as an event long protracted, and for the occurrence of which the reader of the narrative is impatient. He says, writing to Sir James Johnstone, on 17th April, 1746,—

"You'll be surprised, perhaps, that I date my letters

no longer from Weldehall; this happened from an accident, if our inconstancies and uncertainties can be called such.

"You may remember in what humour you saw your friend a day or two before you left us. He became gay and good-humoured afterwards, but more moderately than usual. After that, he returned to his former disposition. These revolutions, we have observed, are like the hot and cold fits of an ague: and, like them too, in proportion as the one is gentle, the other is violent. But the misfortune is, that this prejudice continued even after he seemed, in other respects, entirely recovered. So that, having tried all ways to bring him to good humour, by talking with him, absenting myself for some days, &c., I have at last been obliged yesterday to leave him. He is determined, he says, to live altogether alone; and I fancy, indeed, it must come to that. As far as I can judge, this caprice came from nobody, and no cause, except physical ones. The wonder only is, that it was so long a-coming."

There is a stroke of generosity in his thus attributing the impulse to physical causes, and not only abstaining from an accusation of his enemy, but expressly exempting him from all blame. The readers of the correspondence have not probably all seconded the charitable exemption; and the exulting tones in which Vincent speaks of the dismissal, foster the suspicion that he had paved the way for it. He says, on the 19th April,—

"This day was a fortnight, my Lord told Mr. Hume to be gone, and that in terms which I shall not repeat; the Monday following, the same directions were renewed in a very peremptory manner, attended with such expressions of resentment, that I advised Hume to go

away the next day, which he did, the 8th; and on the 15th I went out thither, and had told my Lord before, that, if he could be reconciled to have him return, I was very willing to contribute towards it, which proposal was not in the least agreed to. . . . . Hume has not for many months stomached depending in any respect upon my decision, who was originally the cause of his being received at all, and had very great difficulty, long since and at different times, to get my Lord to bear him. He has mistaken the point; for there is nothing irritates his Lordship so much, as the thought of any one showing some tokens of authority, and looking on what he says as caprice, and of no consequence; and I really believe it is some such notion as this, which has produced so thorough an aversion."

There are two different views that may be taken of Hume's motives for not having at once resigned his appointment, at the very commencement of the train of indignities to which he was subjected. Whoever anticipates that a man who had tutored his mind by the rules of philosophy, and who lived an upright and independent life, may be actuated by some better views than those of mere pecuniary aggrandizement, will give him credit for having believed it to be his duty to watch over certain interests of the Annandale family at the sacrifice of his own feelings. Those who, strongly disapproving of his opinions as a philosopher, believe them to be therefore the dictate of a corrupted mind, will probably search for base and selfish motives; and will have little difficulty in identifying them with a pure love of gain, sufficiently strong to absorb all gentlemanly feeling and all spirit of independence. The favourable and charitable view admits of no direct demonstration on which an opponent could

not be able to throw doubt; and, the circumstances being stated, each reader is left to form his own opinion.

There is one thing that Hume never attempts to conceal—his feeling that the situation was in a pecuniary point of view advantageous to him, and his consequent desire to preserve it for his own sake, so long as he could do so with honour. That it should be so is one of those inconsistencies often exhibited in fine geniuses, which ordinary men of the world find it difficult to appreciate. It frequently proceeds from this circumstance, that, not being acquainted with the ordinary beaten tracks towards wealth and independence, which other men so easily find; yet desiring the latter, although perhaps they care not for the former endowment, they lay hold with avidity on any guide that is likely to lead them, by however devious and unpleasant a path, to the desired object. Men whose minds are much occupied with abstract subjects, if they be poor and desire to be free of unpleasant obligations, are thus apt to grasp at trifling rights with a pertinacity which has the air of selfishness. They feel a timidness of their own ability to make way in a bustling active world; and, conscious that it would be vain to compete with hard-headed acute men of business in the enlargement of their fortune, treat with an undue importance any comparatively trifling claims and advantages; while the sagacious world, which sees before it so many more advantageous paths to the objects of men's secondary ambition, ridicules their much ado about nothing. It was Hume's first and chief desire to be independent. That if he had enjoyed a choice of means, to be the hired companion of the Marquis of Annandale would have been among the last on which he would have fixed,

will easily be believed. But this occupation was the only method of gaining a livelihood that offered itself at the time; it was an honest one, and the disagreeable circumstances attending the means were overlooked in the desirableness of the end.

It is necessary, also, along with the account of Hume's efforts to gain a humble livelihood, to keep in mind the state of society in Scotland at that time. The union with England had introduced new habits of living, which made the means of the smaller aristocracy insufficient for the support of their younger children. On the other hand, England was jealous of Scottish rivalry in foreign trade: neither agriculture nor manufactures had made any considerable progress in Scotland; while Indian enterprise was in its infancy, and Scottish adventurers in the East had not yet found a Pactolus in the Ganges. At that period the gentleman-merchant, manufacturer, or money dealer; the civil engineer, architect, editor, or artist, were nearly unknown in Scotland. The only form in which a man poor and well born could retain the rank of a gentleman, if he did not follow one of the learned professions, was by obtaining a commission in the army, or a government civil appointment.[196:1]

Here ended the channels to subsistence along with

gentility, and he who had none of these paths open to him, and had resolved to make an independent livelihood by his own talents or labour, had at once, as the German nobles frequently do in the present day, to abandon his rank, and become a shopkeeper or small farmer, probably with the intention of returning to the bosom of his former social circle when he had realized an independence, but more commonly ending his days with the consciousness that he was, in the words of Henry Hunt, "the first of a race of gentlemen who had become a tradesman." Any lawyer who pays attention to the statistics of the Scottish decisions in mercantile cases, during the earlier part of the eighteenth century, will have noticed how frequently it occurs that the younger sons of some good family are mentioned as fulfilling the humblest duties of village tradesmen.[197:1] The practice is now comparatively unknown. The well

educated gentleman's son, if he be brought up to commerce, connects himself with those more liberal departments of it, in which he may reap the advantage of his education and training. To the practice which distinguished the period of depression above alluded to, aided perhaps by the spirit of clanship, we may owe the existence of so many aristocratic names among the humbler tradesmen in Scotland. In England the nomenclature of a city directory will as surely indicate the court and the tradesmen end of the town, as the Norman name used to indicate nobility and the Saxon vassalage. We do not find Edward Plantagenet keeping an oyster shop, or Henry Seymour cobbling shoes; but it would not be difficult to exemplify these humble occupations, in the regal names of a Robert Bruce or a James Stuart. In his essay on "The Parties of Great Britain," published in 1741, Hume alludes to the absence of a middle class in Scotland, where he says there are only "two ranks of men," "gentlemen who have some fortune and education, and the meanest starving poor: without any considerable number of the middling rank of men, which abounds more in England, both in cities and in the country, than in any other quarter of the world."[198:1]

The history of the miserable quarrels and intrigues

connected with Hume's residence in the Annandale family, is a sad picture, not only of the position of the individual, but of his class,—the poor scholars, the servile drudges for bread. The modern literary labourer—or hack, as he is called by those who deem the word labourer too respectable to be employed on such an occasion—may look from the narrow bounds of his own independent home, with a feeling of sincere though not boastful superiority on David Hume, living in the splendid bondage of a peer's mansion. But in drawing the comparison on which the reflection rests, let him keep in view the state of literature and of society at that period, and ask where lay the hopes of the literary labourer? If he remained in the less conspicuous walks of learned industry, and became a divine or a teacher, there was before him the career of Parson Adams, taking his pot and pipe with the upper servants; or that of the threadbare tutor, subjected to the caprice and insolence of young men, who, if they do not happen to be endowed with a high tone of sentiment, must imbibe from all around them this feeling, that they are as far beyond the parallel of rank of their instructor, as the Brahmin is beyond that of the Pariah; or, thirdly, he might be the hired victim of a semi-maniac, whose few rays of remaining reason are but sufficient to indicate his own immeasurable superiority to the bought attendant of his humours. These were the resources of the man who distrusted the power of his own genius to soar into the higher flights of original literature; the man, who might perhaps be too conscientious, not to say also too timid, to throw the chance of his being able to meet his obligations to society and to perform his social duties, on the chance of his succeeding in the race for literary distinction.

But suppose the race run and gained, and the laurels on the victor's brow,—for what, then, has all been risked, all encountered? True, Hume himself became one of the distinguished few who gained both fame and fortune; but in the ordinary case, if the former were achieved, the latter did not follow; and in seeking the types of literary distinction in his age, Fielding, Goldsmith, and Johnson are the names that rise before us. Was the garden in which these flowers bloomed so genial that we would have others transplanted thither?

Let not, then, the considerate and charitable reader overlook all these palliations of the motives which may have induced a great man to humble himself and bear so much contumely. Let us suppose that he who reads this narrative is an editor of a newspaper, with a salary of say two or three hundred a-year; or that he writes articles for the periodicals, and neither in name nor in reality bound to any one, gets the fair price of his independent labour; or that he is a teacher in an active commercial academy, who, after the harassing labours of the day, can retire to the bosom of his own family, without fearing the frown or desiring the smile of any great man,—let him, if such should be his lot, indulge, in all its luxury, the consciousness of his superior independence and happier fate; but in looking from its elevation to David Hume, a bondman in the house of an insane lord, let compassion rather than contempt tinge his estimate of the illustrious victim's motives, and let him thank the better times, that with all the drudgery of his lot, its disappointed aspirations, and the bitterness of unavailing efforts to raise it to a higher and more justly-respected position in the eye of the world, have yet enabled him to quaff the sweet cup of independence.

Before entirely leaving the subject of Hume's connexion with the Marquis of Annandale, it is necessary to take a view of his conduct regarding a pecuniary dispute which arose out of the transaction. The terms of the agreement were very distinctly set forth by Captain Vincent in the following letter:—

"Sir,—You desire to have a letter from me, expressing all the conditions of the agreement concluded betwixt us, with regard to your living with the Marquis of Annandale. In compliance with so reasonable a request, I hereby acknowledge that, by virtue of powers committed to me by the said Marquis, and with the approbation and consent of his Lordship and Sir James Johnstone, I engaged that my Lord should pay you three hundred pounds sterling a-year, so long as you continued to live with him, beginning from the first of April, one thousand seven hundred and forty-five: also that the said Marquis, or his heirs, should be engaged to pay you, or your heirs, the sum of three hundred pounds, as one year's salary, even though the Marquis should happen to die any time in the first year of your attendance, or should embrace any new scheme or plan of life, which should make him choose that you should not continue to live out the first year with him. Another condition was, that, if you should, on your part, choose to leave the Marquis any time in the first or subsequent years, you should be free to do it; and that the Marquis should be bound to pay you your salary for the time you had attended him, and also the salary for that quarter in which you should leave him, in the same manner as if that quarter should be fully expired.

"These were the conditions of our agreement about the end of February last, on your first coming up to London for the purposes here mentioned, and which I

have committed to writing for your satisfaction and security, this first day of September, at Weldehall, four miles south of St. Alban's, in the county of Hertford, and in the year one thousand seven hundred and forty-five."

Vincent, in continuation, and for Hume's information, gives him a copy of the agreement, under which one of his predecessors in office, by name Peter Young, had been engaged; an agreement, containing terms rather more favourable to the stipendiary than those of which Hume had consented to accept. And he concludes,—

"You see the latter part of Mr. Young's agreement are more advantageous terms than the latter part of yours; but I have done as much as I thought reasonable and proper for me, and as much as you desired. I make no doubt but, in any contingency, all the Marquis's friends and relations, would be far from reducing your conditions less than that of others in the same case, as, in my opinion, and I dare believe in theirs, your character and conduct would rather entitle you to a preference."

Hume had in the mean time received a present of £100 from the Marquis of Annandale, no reference to which is made in the agreement, and which he considered as a gratuity to induce him to leave Scotland, and enter on those negotiations with Lord Annandale and his friends, which ended in his being engaged, but might have ended otherwise; as an indemnity, in short, for the time wasted and the trouble taken in the preliminary arrangements. Indeed, it will have been noticed in his letter to Mr. Sharp, quoted above,[202:1] that this gratuity was sent by the Marquis along with the

invitation to Hume to repair to London and hold a conference on the subject. Hume, then, was engaged at £300 a-year, with the condition that for any broken quarter a full quarter's salary should be paid. His engagement commenced on 1st April, 1745. It terminated on the 15th April, 1746. He thus considered himself entitled to £300 as a year's salary, and to £75 as the salary of the quarter, of which fifteen days had run. In the mean time, however, just after the expiry of the first year, it had occurred to the magnanimous Vincent, that though better terms than those given to Hume, had been obtained by the Peter Youngs and others, Hume's salary was twice as much as it should be, and ought to be reduced by a half. Hume, as if he had been subdued in spirit, by the life he had been leading—feeling as if his lot were cast, and his fate fixed—oblivious of the glorious dreams of ambition that had dawned on him ten years earlier in life and were yet to be realized, seems to have calmly contemplated this pecuniary reduction, and to have been inclined to agree to it if it should form the prelude to a permanent engagement. He thus wrote to the mother of the Marquis.

"I had the honour of a letter from my Lord Marquis last spring, inviting me to London, which I accordingly obeyed. He made me proposals of living with him; and Mr. Vincent, in concert with Sir James Johnstone, mentioned at first the yearly salary of £300 as an allowance which they thought reasonable; because my Lord had always paid so much to all the other gentlemen that attended him, even when his way of living, in other particulars, was much more expensive than at present. Since that, Mr. Vincent thinks this allowance too much, and proposes to reduce it from £300 to £150. My answer was, that whatever

your Ladyship and my Lord should think my attendance merited, that I would very willingly accept of. As he still insisted on the reasonableness of his opinion, I have used the freedom to apply to your Ladyship, to whose sentiments every one, that has the honour of being connected with the family of Annandale, owe so entire a deference. I shall not insist on any circumstances in my own favour. Your Ladyship's penetration will easily be able to discover those, as well as what may be urged in favour of Mr. Vincent's opinion. And your determination shall be entirely submitted to by me."

At the same time he appears to have submitted his grievances to the consideration of his kind friend Henry Home, who, in a letter to Sir James Johnstone, expresses views which will probably meet with more sympathy than those announced by Hume himself.

"Kames, 14th April, 1746.

"Sir,—I have a letter from Mr. David Hume lately, which surprised me not a little, as if there were a plot formed against him to diminish his salary. For my part, I was never hearty in his present situation; as I did not consider the terms offered as any sufficient temptation for him to relinquish his studies, which, in all probability, would redound more to his advantage some time or other. For this reason, though I had a good deal of indignation at the dishonourable behaviour of the author of this motion, yet underhand I was not displeased with any occasion, not blameable on my friend's part, to disengage him. I thought instantly of writing him a letter not to stay upon any terms after such an affront; but, reflecting upon your interest in this matter, I found such an advice would

be inconsistent with the duty I owe you, and therefore stopped short till I should hear from you. I'm well apprized of the great tenderness you have for your poor chief; and it is certainly of some consequence that he should have about him at least one person of integrity; and it should have given me pain to be the author of an advice that might affect you, though but indirectly. At the same time, I cannot think of sacrificing my friend, even upon your account, to make him submit to dishonourable terms; and, therefore, if you esteem his attendance of any use to the Marquis, I beg you'll interpose that no more attempts of this kind be made. For I must be so free to declare that, should he himself yield to accept of lower terms, which I trust he will not be so mean-spirited to do, he shall never have my consent, and I know he will not act without it."

The Marchioness declined to interfere, and thus the award by which Hume agreed to abide was not made. He had thus began the first quarter of a new year under the old agreement, and he had not consented either to abandon the terms of that agreement for the time that was running, or even to make new terms applicable to any subsequent period, though he had shown a disposition to accept, under certain circumstances, of these new terms. His abrupt dismissal, however, put an end to the negotiation; and, as the terms of his agreement entitled him to the £75 if he had chosen to throw up his appointment, he thought he was not the less entitled to the money that he had been dismissed, and that the ignominious and insulting treatment connected with his dismissal should not be any inducement to him to abandon his claim. He could not lose sight, moreover, of the circumstance, that to place the parties more at their ease in dealing

with him, he had abandoned his claims on the professorship in Edinburgh. It is true that he had small chance of obtaining it, but that chance, such as it was, he was desired by the friends of the Marquis to abandon, and he did so. The question with him then was, how much injury he should allow to be added to the insults he had received. The £300, for his year's services, were paid. The payment of the £75, for the subsequent quarter, was resisted.

On the 9th June, 1746, Henry Home wrote a sensible and kind letter on the subject to Sir James Johnstone, in which he laid down the law of the case, that Hume's claim of salary for the broken quarter must be on the old agreement, and could not be "upon the footing of a proposal or offer, which never came the length of a covenant, and which, therefore, never had any effect;" and he says,—"The question then is, whether he is entitled to £75, for the broken quarter, or only to £37, 10s. The thing is a mere trifle to the Marquis of Annandale, but of some importance to a young gentleman who has not a large stock; and supposing the claim to be doubtful, I have great confidence in your generosity, that for a trifle you would not choose to leave a grudge in the young gentleman's mind, of a hardship done to him.

"But to deal with you after that plain manner which I know you love, I will speak out my mind to you, that in strict justice, and in the direct words of the agreement, Mr. Hume is entitled to £75."

Hume never entirely abandoned this claim. He was not in a position to urge it forward immediately after his dismissal, as another and more agreeable official appointment called him abroad. So late as 1760 and during the next ensuing year, we find him urging his

demand, and allusion is made to an action having been raised in the Court of Session. "The case," says Dr. Murray, "must have been settled extrajudicially or by reference; for, after a careful search in the minute book of the Court of Session, we do not find that it was ever enrolled."

There has been a general tendency to consider this pertinacious adherence to a pecuniary claim, as a proceeding unworthy of a philosopher. In any ordinary man, whether wise or foolish after the wisdom of the world, such conduct would have appeared but just and natural; but a philosopher is presumed to have no more respect for money and its value, than the generous and sympathizing gentleman on the stage, who on the impulse of the moment, always tosses a heavy purse to somebody, without having any more distinct notion of its contents than the admiring audience can have. Hume's notions of these matters were different. "Am I," he said, "in a condition to make the Marquis of Annandale a present of £75, that of right belongs to me." It is true that in the interval between the debt being incurred, and his insisting on its payment, he had by frugality and industry made himself independent. In 1747, he tells us that he was possessed of £1000, and in 1760, his fortune had probably considerably increased, though the sources of emolument which made him subsequently worth £1000 a-year, had not been then opened up. The surplus of the Marquis of Annandale's estate had in the mean time accumulated in the manner that has been already mentioned, and Hume probably thought it was an action more truly worthy of a philosopher, to make over his salary of librarian to the poor blind poet Blacklock, than to

abandon a claim of £75, justly due by an estate which had developed a surplus of £400,000.

---

Early in the year 1746, Hume received an invitation from General St. Clair, "to attend him as a secretary to his expedition, which was at first meant against Canada, but ended in an incursion on the coast of France."[208:1] Before his departure, and while he expected to have to cross the Atlantic, he wrote the following letter, addressed to "Mr. Alexander Home, Advocate, His Majesty's Solicitor for Scotland, at Edinburgh." The concluding remarks evidently relate to the state prosecutions following on the insurrection in Scotland.

"Portsmouth, May 23, 1746.

"Dear Solicitor,—A letter you have good reason to expect from me, before my departure for America; but a long one you cannot look for, if you consider that I knew not a word of this matter till Sunday last at night, that we shall begin to embark from hence in two or three days, and that I had very ingeniously stripped myself of every thing, by sending down my whole baggage for Scotland on Sunday morning. Such a romantic adventure, and such a hurry I have not heard of before. The office is very genteel—10s. a day, perquisites, and no expenses. Remember me kindly to your brothers. Tell Frank I ask him ten thousand pardons. Let Mr. Dysart, and Mrs. Dysart know of my good wishes. Be assured yourself of my friendship. I cannot leave Europe without giving you one instance of it, and so much the greater that with regard to any other person

but you, it would be a dangerous one. In short, I have been told, that the zeal of party has been apt sometimes to carry you too far in your expressions, and that fools are afraid of your violence in your new office. Seek the praise, my dear Sandy, of humanity and moderation. 'Tis the most durable, the most agreeable, and in the end the most profitable.

"I am, dear Sandy, yours most sincerely.

"For God's sake, think of Willy Hamilton."[209:1]

At the same time we find him writing to Henry Home, and speculating on the possibility of himself joining the military service.

"As to myself, my way of life is agreeable; and though it may not be so profitable as I am told, yet so large an army as will be under the general's command in America, must certainly render my perquisites very considerable. I have been asked, whether I would incline to enter into the service? My answer was, that at my years I could not decently accept of a lower commission than a company. The only prospect of working this point would be, to procure at first a company in an American regiment, by the choice of the colonies. But this I build not on, nor indeed am I very fond of it.[209:2] D. H."

The person to whom we thus find Hume acting in the capacity of secretary, was the Honourable James St. Clair, one of those commanders whose fortune it is to have passed through a long life of active military service, without having one opportunity of performing a distinguished action; for though, on the present occasion, the path to honour appeared to be at last opened to him, it was closed by the mismanagement of others. He was the second son of Henry Lord

St. Clair. His elder brother being engaged in the rebellion of 1715, was attainted by act of Parliament. The father left the family estates to General St. Clair, who, with a generous devotion to the hereditary principle, conveyed them to his elder brother, on that gentleman obtaining a pardon and a statutory removal of the disabilities of the attainder. He obtained the rank of colonel on 26th July, 1722, of major-general on 15th August, 1741, and of lieutenant-general on 4th June, 1745. During the last named year he was quarter-master general of the British forces in Flanders. He was for many years a member of Parliament, having been elected for the Dysart burghs in 1722, and subsequently for the counties of Sutherland and Fife. He died at Dysart on 30th November, 1762.[210:1]

The marine force connected with the proposed expedition was commanded by Admiral Richard Lestock, a man whose professional fate was in some respects of a like character with that of his military colleague. The intended object of the armament was an attack on the French possessions in Canada, and steps had been taken to second its efforts on the other side of the Atlantic, by bringing together a British American force. But the indolence or negligence of the authorities at home, delayed the departure of the fleet until it was too late to attempt such an enterprise; and then, as if to furnish a vivid illustration of weak and blundering counsels, that all these preparations might not be thrown away, the force prepared for operations in America was sent to attempt a descent on the coast of France.

The naval force, consisting of sixteen ships of the

line, eight frigates, and two bomb-ketches, accompanied by five thousand eight hundred land troops, including matrosses and bombardiers, set sail from Plymouth on 14th September.[211:1] Its destination was the town of Port L'Orient, then a flourishing port, as the depot of the French East India Company, which has since fallen to decay in common with the great establishment with which it was connected. The history and fate of the expedition will be best described in Hume's own words. It afforded no harvest of military glory to either country; and while it is but slightly described by our own historians, it is scarcely ever mentioned by those of France. National partiality will hardly make any lover of the true glory of his country regret that such an attempt was a failure. The method of conducting war by descents upon an enemy's coast, is a relic of barbarism which it is to be hoped the progress of humanity and civilisation will not permit either false enthusiasm or the auspices of a great name to revive among the nations of Europe. It is precisely the warlike tactic of the scalping knife—the wreaking against the weak that vengeance which cannot reach the strong. The rules of civilized war are to strike such blows as will annihilate the power of an enemy's government, with the least injury to the peaceful inhabitants of the country. Descents on a coast do much injury to individuals—they do little harm to the enemy's government. It is a system by which the vital parts are not attacked until they suffer by exhaustion from the injuries done to the extremities. Such expeditions do a grievous injury to our enemies, to accomplish a

very small good to ourselves. But if they cannot be avoided, the next step of mercy is to make them effectual by energetic and well-organized measures which render resistance hopeless, and subject the places attacked only to the modified license of a well-disciplined army. The blunders that made the present attempt as contemptible as it was cruel, are amply recorded by Hume, and may be a lesson of the responsibility incurred by those who fit out warlike expeditions.

In this expedition Hume not only acted as secretary to the general, but was appointed by him judge advocate of all the forces under his command, by a commission "given on board his majesty's ship Superb, the third day of August, 1746,"[212:1] in virtue of the power which the commander of an army possesses to fill up a vacancy in that office. The mixed ministerial and judicial duties of a judge advocate require a general knowledge of the great principles of law and justice, with a freedom from that technical thraldom of the practical lawyer which would be unsuitable to the rapidity of military operations; and there can be little doubt that these delicate and important functions were in this instance committed to one in every way capable of performing them in a satisfactory manner.

Some of Hume's permanent friendships appear to have been formed during this expedition. General Abercromby, with whom we will afterwards find him corresponding, was quarter-master general, Harry Erskine was deputy quarter-master, and Edmonstoune of Newton was a captain in the Royal Scottish regiment. Of the operations of the expedition, and some other

incidents of deep interest connected with it, he sent the following narrative to his brother, John Hume, or Home, of Ninewells.

Hume to his Brother.

"Our first warlike attempt has been unsuccessful, though without any loss or dishonour. The public rumour must certainly have informed you that, being detained in the Channel, till it was too late to go to America, the ministry, who were willing to make some advantage of so considerable a sea and land armament, sent us to seek adventures on the coast of France. Though both the general and admiral were totally unacquainted with every part of the coast, without pilots, guides, or intelligence of any kind, and even without the common maps of the country; yet, being assured there were no regular troops near this whole coast, they hoped it was not possible but something might be successfully undertaken. They bent their course to Port L'Orient, a fine town on the coast of Britanny, the seat of the French East India trade, and which about twenty years ago was but a mean, contemptible village. The force of this town, the strength of its garrison, the nature of the coast and country, they professed themselves entirely ignorant of, except from such hearsay information as they had casually picked up at Plymouth. However, we made a happy voyage of three days, landed in the face of about 3000 armed militia on the 20th of September, marched up next day to the gates of L'Orient, and surveyed it.

"It lies at the bottom of a fine bay two leagues long, the mouth of which is commanded by the town and citadel of Port Louis, or Blavet, a place of great strength, and situated on a peninsula. The town of

L'Orient itself has no great strength, though surrounded by a new wall of about 30 foot high, fortified with half moons, and guarded with some cannon. They were in prodigious alarm at so unexpected an attack by numbers which their fears magnified, and immediately offered to capitulate, though upon terms which would have made their conquest of no significancy to us. They made some advances a few hours after, to abate of their demands; but the general positively refused to accept of the town on any other condition than that of surrendering at discretion. He had very good reason for this seeming rigour and haughtiness. It has long been the misfortune of English armies to be very ill-served in engineers; and surely there never was on any occasion such an assemblage of ignorant blockheads as those which at this time attended us. They positively affirmed it was easily in their power, by the assistance of a mortar and two twelve pounders, in ten hours' time, either to lay the town and East India magazine in ashes, or make a breach by which the forces might easily enter. This being laid before the general and admiral, they concluded themselves already masters of the town,and[214:1] needed grant no terms. They were besides afraid that had they taken the town upon terms, and redeemed it for a considerable sum of money, the good people of England, who love mischief, would not be satisfied, but would still entertain a suspicion that the success of his majesty's arms had been secretly sold by his commanders. Besides, nothing could be a greater blow to the French trade than the destruction of this town; nor what[214:2] could imprint a stronger terror of the English naval power, and more

effectually reduce the French to a necessity of guarding their coast with regular forces, which must produce a great diversion from their ambitious projects on the frontiers. But when the engineers came to execution, it was found they could do nothing of what they had promised. Not one of their carkasses or red hot balls took effect. As the town could not be invested either by sea or land, they got a garrison of irregulars and regulars, which was above double our number, and played 35 pieces of cannon upon us while we could bring only four against them. Excessive rains fell, which brought sickness amongst our men that had been stowed in transports during the whole summer. We were ten miles from the fleet, the roads entirely spoilt, every thing was drawn by men, the whole horses in the country being driven away. So much fatigue and duty quite overcame our little army. The fleet anchored in a very unsafe place in Quimperlay Bay. For these and other reasons it was unanimously determined to raise the siege on the 27th of September; and to this measure there was not one contradictory opinion either in the fleet or army. We have not lost above ten men by the enemy in the whole expedition, and were not in the least molested either in our retreat or re-embarkation. We met with a violent storm on the 1st of October, while we were yet very near the coast, and have now got into Quiberon Bay south of Belle-Isle, where we wait for a reinforcement of three battalions from England. There are five or six of our transports amissing. After our French projects are over, which must be very soon because of the late season, we sail to Cork and Kingsale.

"While we lay at Plœmeur, a village about a league from L'Orient, there happened in our family one of

the most tragical stories ever I heard of, and than which nothing ever gave me more concern. I know not if ever you heard of Major Forbes, a brother of Sir Arthur's. He was, and was esteemed, a man of the greatest sense, honour, modesty, mildness, and equality of temper, in the world. His learning was very great for a man of any profession; but a prodigy for a soldier. His bravery had been tried, and was unquestioned. He had exhausted himself with fatigue and hunger for two days, so that he was obliged to leave the camp and come to our quarters, where I took the utmost care of him, as there was a great friendship betwixt us. He expressed vast anxiety that he should be obliged to leave his duty, and fear lest his honour should suffer by it. I endeavoured to quiet his mind as much as possible, and thought I had left him tolerably composed at night; but, returning to his room early next morning, I found him, with small remains of life, wallowing in his own blood, with the arteries of his arm cut asunder. I immediately sent for a surgeon, got a bandage tied to his arm, and recovered him entirely to his senses and understanding. He lived above four-and-twenty hours after, and I had several conversations with him. Never a man expressed a more steady contempt of life, nor more determined philosophical principles, suitable to his exit. He begged of me to unloosen his bandage, and hasten his death, as the last act of friendship I could show him: but, alas! we live not in Greek or Roman times. He told me that he knew he could not live a few days: but if he did, as soon as he became his own master, he would take a more expeditious method, which none of his friends could prevent. 'I die,' says he, 'from a jealousy of honour, perhaps too delicate; and do you think, if it were possible for me to live, I

would now consent to it, to be a gazing-stock to the foolish world. I am too far advanced to return. And if life was odious to me before, it must be doubly so at present.' He became delirious a few hours before he died. He had wrote a short letter to his brother, above ten hours before he cut his arteries. This we found on the table."

"Quiberon Bay in Britanny, Oct. 4, 1746."

"P.S.—The general has not sent off his despatches till to-day, so that I have an opportunity of saying a few words more. Our army disembarked on the 4th of October, and took possession of the peninsula of Quiberon, without opposition. We lay there, without molestation, for eight days, though the enemy had formed a powerful, at least a numerous, army of militia on the continent. The separation of so many of our transports, and the reinforcements not coming, determined us to reimbark, and return home, with some small hopes that our expedition has answered the chief part of its intended purpose, by making a diversion from the French army in Flanders. The French pretend to have gained a great victory; but with what truth we know not. The admiral landed some sailors, and took possession of the two islands of Houat and Hedie, which were secured by small forts. The governor of one of them, when he surrendered his fort, delivered up his purse to the sea officer, and begged him to take care of it, and secure it from the pillage of the sailors. The officer took charge of it, and, finding afterwards a proper opportunity to examine it, found it contained the important sum of ten sous, which is less than sixpence of our money."[217:1]

"October 17."

As Niebuhr was an eye-witness of the battle of Copenhagen, so Hume also had thus an opportunity of observing some practical warlike operations, though they were on a much smaller scale, and were witnessed in much less exciting circumstances than those which attended the position of the citizen of Copenhagen. Thus, although not themselves soldiers, these two great historians swell the list, previously containing the names of Thucydides, Xenophon, Polybius, Guicciardini, Davila, and Rapin, of those historians of warfare who have witnessed its practical operation. Voltaire, when the accuracy of his description of a battle was questioned by one who had been engaged in it, bid the soldier keep to his profession of fighting, and not interfere with another man's, which was that of writing; but there is little doubt, that the person who would accurately describe military manœuvres, will have his task facilitated by having actually witnessed some warlike operations, on however small a scale, and however unlike in character to those which he has to describe. Scott considered that he had derived much of his facility as a narrative historian from his services in the Mid-Lothian yeomanry; and Gibbon found that to be an active officer in the Hampshire militia was not without its use to the historian of the latter days of Rome.

It is pretty clear that Hume looked upon these operations, not only as events likely to furnish him with some critical knowledge of warlike affairs, but with the inquiring eye of one who might have an opportunity of afterwards narrating them in some historical work. In the appendix there will be found a pretty minute account by Hume, of the causes which led to the failure of the expedition, in a paper apparently drawn up as a vindication of the conduct

of General St. Clair. It does not appear to have been printed, although it seems to have been designed for the press. It contains the following passage: "A certain foreign writer, more anxious to tell his stories in an entertaining manner than to assure himself of their reality, has endeavoured to put this expedition in a ridiculous light; but as there is not one circumstance in his narration that has truth in it, or even the least appearance of truth, it would be needless to lose time in refuting it."

The following passage in a letter to Sir Harry Erskine, dated 20th January, 1756,[219:1] shows that he here alludes to Voltaire: "I have been set upon by several to write something, though it were only to be inserted in the Magazines, in opposition to this account which Voltaire has given of our expedition. But my answer still is, that it is not worth while, and that he is so totally mistaken in every circumstance of that affair, and indeed of every affair, that I presume nobody will pay attention to him. I hope you are of the same opinion." But if Voltaire ever wrote on this subject, it must have been in one of those works of which he took the liberty of determinedly denying the authorship, for there appears to be nothing bearing on the subject in the usual editions of his published and acknowledged works, and in his "Précis du Siecle de Louis XV.," he passes over the expedition with the briefest possible allusion.

We find Hume, on the return of the expedition, writing the following letter to Henry Home. It contains some curious notices of its writer's views and intentions, and betrays a sort of irresolution as to his subsequent projects, which seems to have haunted him through life. It is here that we find the first allusion

to his historical studies. The extracts from his notes, or adversaria, printed above, show that he had read much in history, but chiefly in that of the ancient nations. It does not appear that he had yet paid any marked attention to British history.

Hume to Henry Home.

"Dear Sir,—I am ashamed of being so long in writing to you. If I should plead laziness, you would say I am much altered; if multiplicity of business, you would scarce believe me; if forgetfulness of you and our friendship, I should tell a gross untruth. I can therefore plead nothing but idleness, and a gay, pleasurable life, which steals away hour after hour, and day after day, and leaves no time for such occupations as one's sober reason may approve most of. This is our case while on shore, and even while on board, as far as one can have much enjoyment in that situation.

"I wrote my brother from the coast of Britanny; giving him some account of our expedition, and of the causes of our disappointment. I suppose he received it after you had left the country, but I doubt not he has informed you of it. We were very near a great success, the taking of L'Orient, perhaps Port Louis, which would have been a prodigious blow to France; and, having an open communication with the sea, might have made a great diversion of their forces, and done great service to the common cause. I suppose you are become a great general, by the misfortune of the seat of war being so long in your neighbourhood. I shall be able when we meet to give you the just cause of our failure. Our expedition to North America is now at an end; we are recalled to England, the convoy is arrived, and we re-embark in a few

days. I have an invitation to go over to Flanders with the general, and an offer of table, tent, horses, &c. I must own I have a great curiosity to see a real campaign, but I am deterred by the view of the expense, and am afraid, that living in a camp, without any character, and without any thing to do, would appear ridiculous. Had I any fortune which would give me a prospect of leisure and opportunity to prosecute my historical projects, nothing could be more useful to me, and I should pick up more literary knowledge in one campaign, by living in the general's family, and being introduced frequently to the duke's, than most officers could do after many years' service. But to what can all this serve? I am a philosopher, and so, I suppose, must continue.

"I am very uncertain of getting half pay, from several strange and unexpected accidents, which it would be too tedious to mention; and if I get it not, shall neither be gainer nor loser by the expedition. I believe, if I would have begun the world again, I might have returned an officer, gratis; and am certain, might have been made chaplain to a regiment gratis; but[221:1] . . . . . . . I need say no more. I shall stay a little time in London, to see if any thing new will present itself. If not, I shall return very cheerfully to books, leisure, and solitude, in the country. An elegant table has not spoiled my relish for sobriety; nor gaiety for study; and frequent disappointments have taught me that nothing need be despaired of, as well as that nothing can be depended on. You give yourself violent airs of wisdom; you will say, Odi hominem ignavâ operâ, philosophicâ

sententiâ. But you will not say so when you see me again with my Xenophon or Polybius in my hand; which, however, I shall willingly throw aside to be cheerful with you, as usual. My kind compliments to Mrs. Home, who, I am sorry to hear, has not yet got entirely the better of her illness. I am," &c.[222:1]

We find Hume corresponding also with Oswald and Colonel Abercromby, as to his claim of half-pay for his services as Judge Advocate in the expedition; and this subject we find him occasionally resuming down to so late a period as 1763, when he speaks of "insurmountable difficulties," and fears he must "despair of success."[222:2] It must be admitted that when he thought fit to make a pecuniary claim he did not easily resign it. His correspondent, Colonel Abercromby of Glassauch, has already been mentioned as having held a command in the expedition. He was afterwards one of Hume's intimate friends. Besides his rank in the army, he held the two discordant offices of king's painter in Scotland, and deputy-governor of Stirling castle. He was elected member of parliament for the shire of Banff in 1735,[222:3] and Hume's letters contain congratulations on his re-election in 1747, along with some incidents in his own journey towards Scotland.

"Ninewells. 7th August, 1747.

"Dear Col^l.—I have many subjects to congratulate you upon. The honour you acquired at Sandberg, your safety, and your success in your elections. You are equally eminent in the arts of peace and war. The cabinet is no less a scene of glory to you than the field. You are a hero even in your sports and

amusements; and discover a superior genius in whist, as well as in a state intrigue or in a battle.

"I hope you recover well of your wound, and I beg of you to inform me. I should be glad to know what became of Forster, and whether Bob Horne got the majority. I write to you upon the supposition of your being at London; because Dr. Clephane wrote me some time ago, that you was just setting out for it. If that be the case please make my most humble compliments to Mrs. Abercromby.

"If the Colonel be still detained abroad by any accident, I must beg it of you, Mrs. Abercromby, to take these compliments to yourself, and to keep this letter till the Colonel comes over, for it is not worth while to pay postage for it. I suppose, madam, that Lady Abercromby informed you of our happy voyage together, and safe arrival in Newcastle: your young cousin was a little noisy and obstreperous; our ship was dirty; our accommodation bad; our company sick. There were four spies, two informers, and three evidences, who sailed in the same ship with us. Yet notwithstanding all these circumstances, we were very well pleased with our voyage, chiefly on account of its shortness, which indeed is almost the only agreeable circumstance that can be in a voyage. I am, &c."

"To the royal in Bergen-op-zoom?[223:1] Have they lost any officers? I hope Guidelianus[223:2] is safe? I hope Fraser is converted?"

In his correspondence with Oswald on the same matter of his half-pay, his remarks on public affairs are very desponding. He says,—

"I know not whether I ought to congratulate you upon the success of your election,[224:1] where you prevailed so unexpectedly. I think the present times are so calamitous, and our future prospect so dismal, that it is a misfortune to have any concern in public affairs, which one cannot redress, and where it is difficult to arrive at a proper degree of insensibility or philosophy, as long as one is in the scene. You know my sentiments were always a little gloomy on that head; and I am sorry to observe, that all accidents (besides the natural course of events) turn out against us. What a surprising misfortune is this Bergen-op-zoom, which is almost unparalleled in modern history! I hear the Dutch troops, besides their common cowardice, and ill-discipline, are seized with an universal panic. This winter may perhaps decide the fate of Holland, and then where are we? I shall not be much disappointed if this prove the last parliament, worthy the name, we shall ever have in Britain. I cannot therefore congratulate you upon your having a seat in it: I can only congratulate you upon the universal joy and satisfaction it gave to every body."[224:2]

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FOOTNOTES:

[171:1] Letters of David Hume, and extracts from letters referring to him, edited by Thomas Murray, LL.D., author of "The Literary History of Galloway." Edinburgh, 1841, 8vo, pp. 80. Dr. Murray says of these letters: "The originals are supposed to have been deposited, about eighty years ago, in the hands of a legal gentleman in Edinburgh, as documents for a law-suit, to which the latter portion of them refers. Since his death, they have, we believe, passed through several hands without having attracted any particular attention, or, perhaps, without having ever been read. They ultimately came into the possession of a gentleman who appreciated their value, and who, several years ago, did me the honour of presenting them unconditionally to me."

[172:1] The Marquis is said to have afforded the first example of his state of mind, in the manner in which he gave a ball at Dumfries. He had the floor covered with confections, as a garden walk is laid with gravel. A lady who was alive a few years ago, remembered having seen him walking about at Highgate, near London; when he was probably in a more confirmed state of insanity than even his intercourse with Hume exhibits: a keeper walked before him, and a footman behind. The latter would occasionally tap his Lordship on the shoulder, and hand him a snuff-box, whence he would take a pinch. He was a very handsome man. He had a sister, who exercised so much influence over him, that in her presence a keeper could be dispensed with.

[174:1] The following, discovered by a friend in an old newspaper, is so amusing, and so descriptive of the man who was Hume's predecessor in office, that I cannot resist inserting it:—

On Captain (Beau) FORRESTER'S travelling to the Highlands of Scotland in winter, anno 1727, incog.

O'er Caledonia's ruder Alps

While Forrester pursu'd his way,

The mountains veil'd their rugged scalps,

And wrapt in snow and wonder lay!

Each sylvan god, each rural power,

Peep'd out to see the raree-show;

And all confess'd, that, till that hour,

They ne'er had seen so bright a beau.

Nay yet, and more I dare advance,

The story true as aught in print,

All nature round, in complaisance,

And imitation, took the hint.

The fields that whilome only bore

Wild heath, or clad at best with oats,

Despis'd these humble weeds, and wore

Rich spangled doublets, and lac'd coats.

The hills were periwigg'd with snow;

Pig-tails of ice hung on each tree;

The winds turn'd powder-puffs; and, lo,

On every shrub a sharp toupee!

With silver clocks the river gods

Appear'd; and some will take their oath,

Or lay at least a thousand odds,

The clouds saliving spit white froth.

The youth abash'd thus to survey

So rude a scene himself outdo,

His sprightly genius to display,

Resolv'd on something odd and new:

All things he found were grown genteel,

Which made him deem it a-propos,

To be alone in dishabile,

A Forrester, and not a beau.

Edinburgh Courant, Oct. 3, 1781.

[176:1] The baronet's daughter, Margaret, had married the Earl of Airley's eldest son, Lord Ogilvy, who, having engaged in the rebellion, had fled to the continent after the battle of Culloden. His wife, however, was among the prisoners; and in June 1746, she was committed to Edinburgh Castle. In the ensuing November she escaped; and having joined her husband in France, she died there, in 1757, at the age of thirty-three. Douglas's Peerage of Scotland, vol. i. p. 35.

[178:1] He had obtained this rank in 1729. Beatson's Political Index.

[178:2] Matthew Sharp, born 18th Feb. 1693, was the second son of John Sharp of Hoddam, by his wife Susan, daughter of John Muir of Cassencarrie, ancestor of Sir John Muir Mackenzie of Delvin, Bart. Mr. Sharp joined the Jacobite insurgents in the year 1715, and made his escape to Scotland, after the rout at Preston, in the disguise of a pig-driver. He then repaired to France, where he finally took up his residence at Boulogne. In the year 1740 his elder brother George died, and Mr. Sharp succeeded to the estate of Hoddam. He returned to his native country, and died, unmarried, at Hoddam castle, in the year 1769.

[179:1] Charles Erskine of Tinwald, third son of Sir Charles Erskine of Alva, Bart., a Lord of Session, with the style of Lord Tinwald. His first wife was Grizel, daughter of John Grierson of Barjarg, by Catherine, eldest sister of Matthew Sharp of Hoddam. Lord Tinwald's third daughter Jane, married to William Kirkpatrick, second son of Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick of Closeburne, Bart. was mother of Charles Kirkpatrick, to whom Matthew Sharp bequeathed his estate of Hoddam.

[180:1] Original in the possession of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq. This letter is printed in The Edinburgh Annual Register for 1809, p. 552.

[196:1] So much had it been considered a legitimate object of the education of a young gentleman to bring him up to the expectation of a government office, that in the "Institute of the Law of Scotland," the posthumous work of John Erskine, who had been appointed professor of Scots law in the university of Edinburgh in 1737, it is mentioned as one of the duties of the guardian of a young man of good family with a small patrimony, to "advance a yearly sum, far beyond the interest of his patrimony, that he may appear suitably to his quality, while he is unprovided of any office under the government by which he can live decently." B. i. Tit. 7. § 25.

[197:1] Walpole gives a curious illustration of the poverty of the Scottish nobility, before "the forty-five," saying of Lord Kilmarnock, "I don't know whether I told you that the man at the tennis court protests that he has known him dine with the man that sells pamphlets at Storey's gate, and says he would have often been glad if I would have taken him home to dinner. He was certainly so poor that in one of his wife's intercepted letters, she tells him she has plagued their steward for a fortnight for money, and can only get three shillings. Can any one help pitying such distress?" Walpole's Letters, ii. 144.

Goldsmith found the holder of a Scottish Peerage keeping a glove shop, and in the case of Lord Mordington, who had been arrested for debt, and claimed his privilege in the Common Pleas, "the bailiff made affidavit, that when he arrested the said lord, he was so mean in his apparel, as having a worn out suit of clothes and a dirty shirt on, and but sixpence in his pocket, he could not suppose him to be a peer of Great Britain, and of inadvertency arrested him." Fortescue's Reports, 165. This family was peculiarly celebrated, Lady Mordington having raised the question, whether a Scottish peeress who kept a tavern was protected by privilege of peerage from being amenable to the laws against keeping disorderly houses.

[198:1] He had an example connected with his own neighbourhood, if not with his own family, of the practice of the gentry following handicraft trades. George Hume, son of the minister of his native parish, Chirnside, who was connected with his own family, followed the humble occupation of a baker in the Canongate, and rose to the dignity of deacon of his trade. Ill-natured tradition says, that the philosopher disliked the vicinity to himself of this living illustration of the depression of the Scottish aristocracy, and occasionally put himself to some trouble to avoid meeting him on the street; but this tradition is not consistent with Hume's manly character.

[202:1] P. [179].

[208:1] My own Life.

[209:1] MS. R.S.E.

[209:2] Tytler's Life of Kames, i. 123.

[210:1] Douglas's Peerage, ii. 501-502.

[211:1] Campbell's Naval History, iv. 324. Appendix, A. It appears that Rodney commanded one of the ships, the Eagle.

[212:1] MS. R.S.E.

[214:1] Sic in MS.

[214:2] Ibid.

[217:1] MS. R.S.E.

[219:1] In the possession of Cosmo Innes, Esq.

[221:1] Mr. Tytler says, "The blank is in the manuscript, the reader will be at no loss to supply it."

[222:1] Tytler's Life of Kames, 125.

[222:2] Memorials, &c. 76.

[222:3] Beatson, Parliamentary Register.

[223:1] In allusion to the Royal Scottish Regiment—Bergen-op-zoom had been taken by storm on 16th Sept.

[223:2] This name—probably latinised from some joke known only to the parties, applies to Col. Edmonstoune of Newton.

[224:1] For Fifeshire.

[224:2] Memorials, &c. p. 54.

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