reference to your Essay. The truth is, I could take no revenge but such a one as would have been a great deal too cruel, and much exceeding the offence: for, though most authors think, that a contemptuous manner of treating their writings is but slightly revenged by hurting the personal character and the honour of their antagonists, I am very far from that opinion. Besides, I am as certain as I can be of any thing, (and I am not such a sceptic as you may perhaps imagine,) that your inserting such remarkable alterations in the printed copy, proceeded entirely from precipitancy and passion, not from any formed intention of deceiving the Society. I would not take advantage of such an incident to throw a slur on a man of merit, whom I esteem, though I might have reason to complain of him.
"When I am abused by such a fellow as Warburton, whom I neither know nor care for, I can laugh at him. But if Dr. Stewart approaches any way towards the same style of writing, I own it vexes me; because I conclude, that some unguarded circumstance of my conduct, though contrary to my intention, had given occasion to it.
"As to your situation with regard to Lord Kames, I am not so good a judge. I only think that you had so much the better of the argument, that you ought, upon that account, to have been more reserved in your expressions. All raillery ought to be avoided in philosophical argument, both because it is unphilosophical, and because it cannot but be offensive, let it be ever so gentle. What, then, must we think with regard to so many insinuations of irreligion, to which Lord Kames's paper gave not the least occasion? This spirit of the inquisitor is, in you, the effect of passion, and what a cool moment
would easily correct. But where it predominates in the character, what ravages has it committed on reason, virtue, truth, liberty, and every thing that is valuable among mankind! I shall now speak a word as to the justness of your censure with regard to myself after these remarks on the manner of it. I have no scruple of confessing my mistakes. You see I have owned that I think Lord Kames is mistaken in his argument; and I would sooner give up my own cause than my friend's, if I thought that imputation of any consequence to a man's character. . . . .[455:1]
"As I am resolved to drop this matter entirely from the Preface, so I hope to persuade Lord Kames to be entirely silent with regard to it in our meeting. But in case I should not prevail, or if any body else start the subject, I think it better that some of your friends should be there, and be prepared to mollify the matter. If I durst pretend to advise, I should think it better you yourself were absent, unless you bring a greater spirit of composition than you express in your letter. I am persuaded that whatever a person of Mr. Monro's authority proposes will be agreed to: though I must beg leave to differ from his judgment in proposing to alter two pages. That chiefly removes the offence given to me; but what regards Lord Kames is so interwoven with the whole discourse, that there is not now any possibility of altering it. I am, sir, your most obedient humble servant," &c.
"P. S.—I hope you are very zealous in promoting the sale of Blacklock's Poems. I will never be reconciled to you unless you dispose of at least a score of them; and make your friends Sir John Maxwell and Lord Buchan pay a guinea a piece for their copy."[455:2]
The Poker Club, occasionally mentioned in these pages, seems to have had no other direct and specific object but the consumption of claret. The duty laid on that national wine, by "the English statesman," so pathetically commemorated by John Home, was a heavy blow and great discouragement to the club; but it rallied, and returned to its old esteemed beverage; and, indeed, it is a somewhat curious circumstance, that the national taste, created by the early intercourse with France and the consequent cheapness of French wines, still lingers in Scotland, where claret is much more generally consumed than in England. The club met in Fortune's tavern every Friday. It was the practice, at each meeting, to name two to be, what were called, "attendant members;" an arrangement, probably, designed to form a nucleus round which those whose attendance was uncertain, but who might drop in occasionally in the course of the evening, could form themselves; and to prevent any general desertion of the club, or, what might be, perhaps, more calamitous, the accident of any individual finding himself, for the night, its sole and solitary representative. We find Hume duly taking his turn in these attendances, and keeping the minutes according to rotation. On the 20th January, 1775, there is this emphatic entry, in his handwriting, "As Mr. Nairne was one of the attendant members, and neglected his duty, the club sent him the bill."
The last meeting of the club, attended by Hume, appears to have been that of 8th December, 1775.[457:1]
It does not appear to be necessary that traditional anecdotes, such as the few we possess of Hume, must either be authenticated, or excluded from such a work as the present. It seems to entitle them to a place, that they were current among those who knew his character and habits. They thus afford all that is expected from such sources—passing fancy sketches, recognised as likenesses. Like several others that have appeared in these pages, as mere traditions, the following anecdote, which is eminently natural and curious, has no farther authentication than the general belief, in Edinburgh, that it "was like the man."
About the commencement of his last illness, a female member of the respectable Berean congregation, in Leith, presented herself at his door, with the information that she had been intrusted with a message to him from on High; and, becoming very urgent, succeeded in obtaining admission. "This is a very important matter, madam," said the philosopher, "we must take it with deliberation;—perhaps you had better get a little temporal refreshment before you begin. 'Lassie, bring this good lady a glass of wine.'" While she was preparing for the attack, Hume entered, good-humouredly, into conversation with her; and, discovering that her husband was a chandler, announced that he stood very much in want, at that time, of some temporal lights, and intrusted his guest with a very large order. This unexpected stroke of business at once absorbed all the good woman's thoughts; and, forgetting her important mission, she immediately