CHAPTER XVII.
1771-1776. Æt. 60-65.
Hume's social character—His conversation—His disposition—Traditional anecdotes regarding him—Correspondence—Letter about the Pretender—Gilbert Stuart's quarrel with Dr. Henry—Commercial State of Scotland—Letter to his nephew on Republicanism—Smith's "Wealth of Nations"—Hume's illness—His Will—Smith appointed Literary Executor—Strahan substituted—His journey to England with Home—Prospects of Death—Communications with his Friends and Relations—His Death—General view of his influence on Thought and Action.
It is to the period from the year 1770 to his death, when he lived among his early friends in Edinburgh, that we ought to refer such traditional accounts of Hume's private life and social habits, as are not expressly connected with any known event in his history. He was, it is true, a distinguished man when he left his native city, in 1763. He had then, indeed, performed all the services which entitled him to immortality. But his foreign celebrity, and his official honours, had since added many ostensible glories to his name, and introduced him to a wider sphere of public notice than the substantial fruits of his genius and industry would have of themselves secured. When we remember that this was the most celebrated period of his life, and was the only one of which persons who are still, or who have lately been alive, could have any recollection, we naturally refer to it those traditional notices and incidents which have no distinct place.
The impression of Hume's character, acquired by one who has sought it in the tenor of his works, and the history of his literary career, is quite different from that which we derive from those who knew him, and were connected with the social circle in which he
lived. The former is solitary, self-relying, and unimpressible even to sternness; the latter is good, easy, simple, social, and amenable to the sway of gentle impulses. These two representations are not without a harmony of principle. In all serious matters, in his projects of literary ambition, in the philosophy he taught mankind, in all that was to connect him with posterity and the intellectual destiny of the human race, he was resolute and uncompromising. But the exhibition of his strength was reserved for the arena of his triumphs; and in domestic and social intercourse he put aside his helmet, with its nodding plumes; feeling, that the intellectual exhibitions suited for that sphere, should spring from whatever Nature had bestowed on him of sweet, and peaceful, and kind,—whatever was fitted to drive rancour or angry emulation from the bosom, and to render life delightful. Hence, to appear in the social circle as an intellectual gladiator, does not appear to have been his wish; he was content if he gave himself and others pleasure.
This view of his character is confirmed by Mackenzie, who, when a young man, enjoyed the high distinction of mingling in that group, of which he was the principal figure.
But the most illustrious of that circle was David Hume, who had a sincere affection for his poetical namesake,—an affection which was never abated during the life of that celebrated man. The unfortunate nature of his opinions with regard to the theoretical principles of moral and religious truth, never influenced his regard for men who held very opposite sentiments on those subjects; subjects which he never, like some vain and shallow sceptics, introduced into social discourse: On the contrary, when at any time the conversation tended that way, he was desirous rather of avoiding any serious discussion on matters which he wished to confine to the graver and less dangerous consideration of cool
philosophy. He had, it might be said, in the language which the Grecian historian applies to an illustrious Roman, two minds; one which indulged in the metaphysical scepticism which his genius could invent, but which it could not always disentangle; another, simple, natural, and playful, which made his conversation delightful to his friends, and even frequently conciliated men whose principles of belief his philosophical doubts, if they had not power to shake, had grieved and offended. During the latter period of his life, I was frequently in his company amidst persons of genuine piety, and I never heard him venture a remark at which such men, or ladies, still more susceptible than men, could take offence.[439:1]