Hume to Dr. Clephane.
1753.
"Dear Doctor,—I need not inform you, that in certain polite countries, a custom prevails, of writing lettres de la nouvelle année, and that many advantages result from this practice, which may seem merely ceremonious and formal. Acquaintance is thereby kept up, friendship revived, quarrels extinguished, negligence atoned for, and correspondences renewed. A man who has been so long conscious of his sins, that he knows not how to return into the way of salvation, taking advantage of this great jubilee, wipes off all past offences, and obtains plenary indulgence; instances are not wanting of such reclaimed sinners, who have afterwards proved the greatest saints, and have even heaped up many works of supererogation. Will you allow me, therefore, dear Doctor, in consideration of my present penitence, and hopes of my future amendment, to address myself to you, and to wish you many and happy new years, multos et felices. May pleasures spiritual (spirituels) multiply upon you without a decay of the carnal. May riches increase without an augmentation of desires. May your chariot still roll along without a failure of your limbs. May your tongue in due time acquire the social sweet garrulity of age, without your teeth losing the sharpness and keenness of youth. May —— but you yourself will best supply the last prayer, whether it should be for the recovery or continuance of the blessing which I hint at. In either case, may your prayer be granted, even though it should extend to the resurrection of the dead.
"I must now set you an example, and speak of myself. By this I mean that you are to speak to me of yourself. I shall exult and triumph to you a little, that I have now at last—being turned of forty, to my own honour, to that of learning, and to that of the present age—arrived at the dignity of being a householder. About seven months ago, I got a house of my own, and completed a regular family; consisting of a head, viz. myself, and two inferior members, a maid and a cat. My sister has since joined me, and keeps me company. With frugality I can reach, I find, cleanliness, warmth, light, plenty, and contentment. What would you have more? Independence? I have it in a supreme degree. Honour? that is not altogether wanting. Grace? that will come in time. A wife? that is none of the indispensable requisites of life. Books? that is one of them; and I have more than I can use. In short, I cannot find any blessing of consequence which I am not possessed of, in a greater or less degree; and without any great effort of philosophy, I may be easy and satisfied.
"As there is no happiness without occupation, I have begun a work which will employ me several years, and which yields me much satisfaction. 'Tis a History of Britain, from the Union of the Crowns to the present time. I have already finished the reign of King James. My friends flatter me (by this I mean that they don't flatter me) that I have succeeded. You know that there is no post of honour in the English Parnassus more vacant than that of history. Style, judgment, impartiality, care—every thing is wanting to our historians; and even Rapin, during this latter period, is extremely deficient. I make my work very concise, after the manner of the ancients. It divides into three very moderate volumes: one to end with the death of Charles the First; the second at the Revolution; the third at the Accession,[378:1] for I dare come no nearer the present times. The work will neither please the Duke of Bedford nor James Fraser; but I hope it will please you and posterity. Κτῆμα εις ἀεὶ.
"So, dear Doctor, after having mended my pen, and bit my nails, I return to the narration of parliamentary factions, or court intrigues, or civil wars, and bid you heartily adieu.
"Edinburgh, Riddal's Land,
5th January, 1753.
"P.S.—When I say that I dare come no nearer the present time than the Accession, you are not to imagine that I am afraid either of danger or offence; I hope, in many instances, that I have shown myself to be above all laws of prudence and discretion. I only mean, that I should be afraid of committing mistakes, in writing of so recent a period, by reason of the want of materials."[379:1]
Hume to Dr. Clephane.
"Edinburgh, 6th March, 1753.
"Dear Doctor,—This is delivered to you by my friend Mr. Wedderburn,[379:2] who makes a jaunt to London, partly with a view to study, partly to entertainment. I thought I could not do him a better office, nor more suitable to both these purposes, than to recommend him to the friendship and acquaintance of a man of learning and conversation. He is young:
It will be a great obligation, both to him and me, if you give him encouragement to see you frequently; and, after that, I doubt not you will think that you owe me an obligation—
"But I will say no more of him, lest my letter fall into the same fault which may be remarked in his behaviour and conduct in life; the only fault which has been remarked in them, that of promising so much that it will be difficult for him to support it. You will allow that he must have been guilty of some error of this kind, when I tell you that the man, with whose friendship and company I have thought myself very much favoured, and whom I recommend to you as a friend and companion, is just twenty. I am, dear Doctor, your affectionate friend and servant."[379:3]
"Jack's Land, 28th June, 1753.
"Dear Sir,—I am to give you great and very hearty thanks for your care in providing for my cousin, at my desire. The quickness in doing it, and the many obliging circumstances attending that good office, I shall not readily forget. What is usual, they say, makes little impression; but that this rule admits of exceptions, I feel upon every instance of your friendship.
"Mr. Mure told me that you had undertaken to get satisfaction with regard to the old English subsidies. I cannot satisfy myself on that head; but I find that all historians and antiquarians are as much at a loss. The nobility, I observe, paid according to their rank and quality, not their estates. The counties were subjected to no valuation; but it was in the power of the commissioners to sink the sums demanded upon every individual, without raising it upon others; and they practised this art when discontented with the court, as Charles complains of with regard to the subsidies voted by his third parliament: yet it seems certain that there must have been some rule of estimation. What was it? Why was it so variable? Lord Strafford raised an Irish subsidy from £12,000 to £40,000, by changing the rule of valuation; but the Irish Parliament, after his impeachment, brought it down again: if Mr. Harding undertakes the solution of this matter, it will be requisite to have these difficulties in his eye. I am glad to hear that we are to have your company here this summer, and that I shall have an opportunity of talking over this, and many other subjects, where I want your advice and opinion. The more I advance in my work, the more I am convinced that the history of England has never yet been written; not only for style, which is notorious to all the world, but also for matter; such is the ignorance and partiality of all our historians. Rapin, whom I had an esteem for, is totally despicable. I may be liable to the reproach of ignorance, but I am certain of escaping that of partiality: the truth is, there is so much reason to blame, and praise, alternately, king and parliament, that I am afraid the mixture of both, in my composition, being so equal, may pass sometimes for an affectation, and not the result of judgment and evidence. Of this you shall be judge; for I am resolved to encroach on your leisure and patience;
Let me hear of you as you pass through the town, that we may concert measures for my catching you idle, and without company, at Kirkcaldy. I am," &c.[381:1]
The rapidity with which the first volume of the "History of England" was composed and printed, has been the object both of surprise and censure. Hume's labours at this time must have been intense; and during the whole of the period in which he was engaged in the different departments of this great work—from 1752 to 1763—his correspondence is more scanty than at other periods of his history. Four months elapse between the letter last printed, and the next in order which has been preserved; and in the latter, we find him very wittily alluding to those great labours which he finds absorbing the petty duties of social intercourse.
Hume to Dr. Clephane.
"28th October, 1753.
"Dear Doctor,—I know not if you remember the giant in Rabelais, who swallowed every morning a windmill to breakfast, and at last was choked upon a pound of melted butter, hot from an oven. I am going to compare myself to that giant. I think nothing of despatching a quarto in fifteen or eighteen months, but am not able to compose a letter once in two years; and am very industrious to keep up a correspondence with posterity, whom I know nothing about, and who, probably, will concern themselves very little about me, while I allow myself to be forgot by my friends, whom I value and regard. However, it is some satisfaction that I can give you an account of my silence, with which I own I reproach myself. I have now brought down my History to the death of Charles the First: and here I intend to pause for some time; to read, and think, and correct; to look forward and backward; and to adopt the most moderate and most reasonable sentiments on all subjects. I am sensible that the history of the two first Stuarts will be most agreeable to the Tories; that of the two last to the Whigs; but we must endeavour to be above any regard either to Whigs or Tories.
"Having thus satisfied your curiosity—for I will take it for granted that your curiosity extends towards me—I must now gratify my own. I was very anxious to hear that you had been molested with some disorders this summer. I was told that you expected they would settle into a fit of the gout. It is lucky where that distemper overtakes a man in his chariot: we foot-walkers make but an awkward figure with it. I hope nobody has the impertinence to say to you, Physician, cure thyself. All the world allows that privilege to the gout, that it is not to be cured: it is itself a physician; and, of course, sometimes cures and sometimes kills. I fancy one fit of the gout would much increase your stock of interjections, and render that part of speech, which in common grammars is usually the most barren, with you more copious than either nouns or verbs.
"I must tell you good news of our friend Sir Harry. I am informed that his talent for eloquence will not rust for want of employment: he bids fair for another seat of the house; and what is the charming part of the story, it is General Anstruther's seat which he is to obtain. He has made an attack on the General's boroughs, and, by the assistance of his uncle's interest and purse, is likely to prevail. Is not this delicious revenge? It brings to my mind the story of the Italian, who reading that passage of Scripture, 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,' burst forth, 'Ay, to be sure; it is too sweet for any mortal.' I own I envy Sir Harry: I never can hope to hate any body so perfectly as he does that renowned commander; and no victory, triumph, vengeance, success, can be more complete. Are not you pleased too? Pray, anatomize your own mind, and tell me how many grains of your satisfaction is owing to malice, and how many ounces to friendship. I leave the rest of this paper to be filled up by Edmonstone. I am, &c.
"P.S.—After keeping this by me eight days, I have never been able to meet with Edmonstone. I must, therefore, send off my own part of a letter which we projected in common. I shall only tell you, that I have since seen Mr. Oswald, who assures me that Anstruther's defeat is infallible."[383:1]
The following letter to the same friend is a curious instance of Hume's diligent efforts to attain a correct English style:—
"Edinburgh, 8th Dec. 1753.
"Dear Doctor,—I am at present reduced to the utmost straits and difficulties. I know people are commonly ashamed to own such distresses. But to whom can one have recourse in his misfortunes, but to his friends? and who can I account my friend, if not Dr. Clephane? not a friend only in the sunshine of fortune, but also in the shade of adversity: not a security only in a calm; but in a storm a sheet-anchor. But, to cut short all prefaces,—though, commonly, beggars and authors abound with them, and I unite both these qualities,—the occasion of my distress is as follows:
"You know that the word enough, or enuff, as it is pronounced by the English, we commonly, in Scotland, when it is applied to number, pronounce enow. Thus we would say: such a one has books enow for study, but not leisure enuff. Now I want to know, whether the English make the same distinction. I observed the distinction already in Lord Shaftesbury; 'Though there be doors enow,' says he, 'to get out of life;' and thinking that this distinction of spelling words, that had both different letters, and different pronunciation, was an improvement, I followed it in my learned productions, though I knew it was not usual. But there has lately arisen in me a doubt, that this is a mere Scotticism; and that the English always pronounce the word, as if it were wrote enuff, whether it be applied to numbers or to quantity. To you, therefore, I apply in this doubt and perplexity. Though I make no question that your ear is well purged from all native impurities, yet trust not entirely to it, but ask any of your English friends, that frequent good company, and let me know their opinion.
"It is a rule of Vaugelas always to consult the ladies, rather than men, in all doubts of language; and he asserts, that they have a more delicate sense of the propriety of expressions. The same author advises us, if we desire any one's opinion in any grammatical difficulty, not to ask him directly; for that confounds his memory, and makes him forget the use, which is the true standard of language. The best way, says he, is to engage him as it were by accident, to employ the expression about which we are in doubt. Now, if you are provided of any expedient, for making the ladies pronounce the word enough, applied both to quantity and number, I beg you to employ it, and to observe carefully and attentively, whether they make any difference in the pronunciation. I am, &c.
"P.S.—I am quite in earnest in desiring a solution of my grammatical doubt."[385:1]
The gentle sensitive character, and hard fate of poor blind Thomas Blacklock, the poet, operated strongly on Hume's kindly feelings. He busied himself with many schemes for enabling his unfortunate friend to gain a subsistence which might make him enjoy "the glorious privilege of being independent:" but with small success. This appears to be the only pursuit which he permitted to divert his attention, at this time, from his great work. We find him writing the following letter to a person whose position in society might enable him to do some substantial service to Blacklock.
Hume to Matthew Sharp of Hoddam.
"Edinburgh, 25th February, 1754.
"Dear Sir,—I have enclosed this letter under one to my friend Mr. Blacklock, who has retired to Dumfries, and proposes to reside there for some time. His character and situation are no doubt known to you, and challenge the greatest regard from every one who has either good taste or sentiments of humanity. He has printed a collection of poems, which his friends are endeavouring to turn to the best account for him. Had he published them in the common way, their merit would have recommended them sufficiently to common sale; but, in that case, the greatest part of the profit, it is well known, would have redounded to the booksellers. His friends, therefore, take copies from him, and distribute them among their acquaintances. The poems, if I have the smallest judgment, are, many of them, extremely beautiful, and all of them remarkable for correctness and propriety. Every man of taste, from the merit of the performance, would be inclined to purchase them: every benevolent man, from the situation of the author, would wish to encourage him; and, as for those who have neither taste nor benevolence, they should be forced, by importunity, to do good against their will. I must, therefore, recommend it to you to send for a cargo of these poems, which the author's great modesty will prevent him from offering to you, and to engage your acquaintance to purchase them. But, dear sir, I would fain go farther: I would fain presume upon our friendship, (which now begins to be ancient between us,) and recommend to your civilities a man who does honour to his country by his talents, and disgraces it by the little encouragement he has hitherto met with. He is a man of very extensive knowledge and of singular good dispositions; and his poetical, though very much to be admired, is the least part of his merit. He is very well qualified to instruct youth, by his acquaintance both with the languages and sciences; and possesses so many arts of supplying the want of sight, that that imperfection would be no hinderance. Perhaps he may entertain some such project in Dumfries; and be assured you could not do your friends a more real service than by recommending them to him. Whatever scheme he may choose to embrace, I was desirous you should be prepossessed in his favour, and be willing to lend him your countenance and protection, which I am sensible would be of great advantage to him.
"Since I saw you, I have not been idle. I have endeavoured to make some use of the library which was intrusted to me, and have employed myself in a composition of British History, beginning with the union of the two crowns. I have finished the reigns of James and Charles, and will soon send them to the press. I have the impudence to pretend that I am of no party, and have no bias. Lord Elibank says, that I am a moderate Whig, and Mr. Wallace that I am a candid Tory. I was extremely sorry that I could not recommend your friend to Director Hume,[387:1] as Mr. Cummin desired me. I have never exchanged a word with that gentleman since I carried Jemmy Kirkpatrick to him; and our acquaintance has entirely dropt. I am," &c.[387:2]
Another letter by Hume, longer and fuller of detail, though it has already appeared in a work well known and much read,[387:3] seems to demand insertion here. It is addressed to the author of Polymetis and friend of Pope.
Hume to Joseph Spence.
Edinburgh, Oct. 15, 1754.
Sir,—The agreeable productions, with which you have entertained the public, have long given me a desire of being known to you: but this desire has been much increased by my finding you engage so warmly in protecting a man of merit, so helpless as Mr. Blacklock. I hope you will indulge me in the liberty I have taken of writing to you. I shall very willingly communicate all the particulars I know of him; though others, by their longer acquaintance with him, are better qualified for this undertaking.
The first time I had ever seen or heard of Mr. Blacklock was about twelve years ago, when I met him in a visit to two young ladies. They informed me of his case, as far as they could in a conversation carried on in his presence. I soon found him to possess a very delicate taste, along with a passionate love of learning. Dr. Stevenson had, at that time, taken him under his protection; and he was perfecting himself in the Latin tongue. I repeated to him Mr. Pope's elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady, which I happened to have by heart: and though I be a very bad reciter, I saw it affected him extremely. His eyes, indeed, the great index of the mind, could express no passion: but his whole body was thrown into agitation. That poem was equally qualified to touch the delicacy of his taste, and the tenderness of his feelings. I left the town a few days after; and being long absent from Scotland, I neither saw nor heard of him for several years. At last an acquaintance of mine told me of him, and said that he would have waited on me, if his excessive modesty had not prevented him. He soon appeared what I have ever since found him, a very elegant genius, of a most affectionate grateful disposition, a modest backward temper, accompanied with that delicate pride, which so naturally attends virtue in distress. His great moderation and frugality, along with the generosity of a few persons, particularly Dr. Stevenson and Provost Alexander, had hitherto enabled him to subsist. All his good qualities are diminished, or rather perhaps embellished, by a great want of knowledge of the world. Men of very benevolent or very malignant dispositions are apt to fall into this error; because they think all mankind like themselves: but I am sorry to say that the former are apt to be most egregiously mistaken.
I have asked him whether he retained any idea of light or colours. He assured me that there remained not the least traces of them. I found, however, that all the poets, even the most descriptive ones, such as Milton and Thomson, were read by him with pleasure. Thomson is one of his favourites. I remembered a story in Locke of a blind man, who said that he knew very well what scarlet was: it was like the sound of a trumpet. I therefore asked him, whether he had not formed associations of that kind, and whether he did not connect colour and sound together. He answered, that as he met so often, both in books and conversation, with the terms expressing colours, he had formed some false associations, which supported him when he read, wrote, or talked of colours: but that the associations were of the intellectual kind. The illumination of the sun, for instance, he supposed to resemble the presence of a friend; the cheerful colour of green, to be like an amiable sympathy, &c. It was not altogether easy for me to understand him: though I believe, in much of our own thinking, there will be found some species of association. 'Tis certain we always think in some language, viz. in that which is most familiar to us; and 'tis but too frequent to substitute words instead of ideas.
If you was acquainted with any mystic, I fancy you would think Mr. Blacklock's case less paradoxical. The mystics certainly have associations by which their discourse, which seems jargon to us, becomes intelligible to themselves. I believe they commonly substitute the feelings of a common amour, in the place of their heavenly sympathies: and if they be not belied, the type is very apt to engross their hearts, and exclude the thing typified.
Apropos to this passion, I once said to my friend, Mr. Blacklock, that I was sure he did not treat love as he did colours; he did not speak of it without feeling it. There appeared too much reality in all his expressions to allow that to be suspected. "Alas!" said he, with a sigh, "I could never bring my heart to a proper tranquillity on that head." Your passion, replied I, will always be better founded than ours, who have sight: we are so foolish as to allow ourselves to be captivated by exterior beauty: nothing but the beauty of the mind can affect you. "Not altogether neither," said he: "the sweetness of the voice has a mighty effect upon me: the symptoms of youth too, which the touch discovers, have great influence. And though such familiar approaches would be ill-bred in others, the girls of my acquaintance indulge me, on account of my blindness, with the liberty of running over them with my hand. And I can by that means judge entirely of their shape. However, no doubt, humour, and temper, and sense, and other beauties of the mind, have an influence upon me as upon others."
You may see from this conversation how difficult it is even for a blind man to be a perfect Platonic. But though Mr. Blacklock never wants his Evanthe, who is the real object of his poetical addresses, I am well assured that all his passions have been perfectly consistent with the purest virtue and innocence. His life indeed has been in all respects perfectly irreproachable.
He had got some rudiments of Latin in his youth, but could not easily read a Latin author till he was near twenty, when Dr. Stevenson put him to a grammar school in Edinburgh. He got a boy to lead him, whom he found very docible; and he taught him Latin. This boy accompanied him to the Greek class in the College, and they both learned Greek. Mr. Blacklock understands that language perfectly, and has read with a very lively pleasure all the Greek authors of taste. Mr. William Alexander, second son to our late provost, and present member, was so good as to teach him French; and he is quite master of that language. He has a very tenacious memory and a quick apprehension. The young students of the College were very desirous of his company, and he reaped the advantage of their eyes, and they of his instructions. He is a very good philosopher, and in general possesses all branches of erudition, except the mathematical. The lad who first attended him having left him, he has got another boy, whom he is beginning to instruct; and he writes me that he is extremely pleased with his docility. The boy's parents, who are people of substance, have put him into Mr. Blacklock's service, chiefly on account of the virtuous and learned education which they know he gives his pupils.
As you are so generous to interest yourself in this poor man's case, who is so much an object both of admiration and compassion, I must inform you entirely of his situation. He has gained about one hundred guineas by this last edition of his poems, and this is the whole stock he has in the world. He has also a bursary, about six pounds a-year. I begun a subscription for supporting him during five years; and I made out twelve guineas a-year among my acquaintance. That is a most terrible undertaking; and some unexpected refusals I met with, damped me, though they have not quite discouraged me from proceeding. We have the prospect of another bursary of ten pounds a-year in the gift of the exchequer; but to the shame of human nature, we met with difficulties. Noblemen interpose with their valet-de-chambres or nurses' sons, who they think would be burdens on themselves. Could we ensure but thirty pounds a-year to this fine genius and man of virtue, he would be easy and happy: for his wants are none but those which Nature has given him, though she has unhappily loaded him with more than other men.
His want of knowledge of the world, and the great delicacy of his temper, render him unfit for managing boys or teaching a school: he would retain no authority. Had it not been for this defect, he could have been made professor of Greek in the University of Aberdeen.
Your scheme of publishing his poems by subscription, I hope will turn to account. I think it impossible he could want, were his case more generally known. I hope it will be so by your means. Sir George Lyttleton, who has so fine a taste, and so much benevolence of temper, would certainly, were the case laid before him in a just light, lend his assistance, or rather indeed quite overcome all difficulties. I know not, whether you have the happiness of that gentleman's acquaintance.
As you are a lover of letters, I shall inform you of a piece of news, which will be agreeable to you: we may hope to see good tragedies in the English language. A young man called Hume, a clergyman of this country, discovers a very fine genius for that species of composition. Some years ago, he wrote a tragedy called Agis, which some of the best judges, such as the Duke of Argyle, Sir George Lyttleton, Mr. Pitt, very much approved of. I own, though I could perceive fine strokes in that tragedy, I never could in general bring myself to like it: the author, I thought, had corrupted his taste by the imitation of Shakspere, whom he ought only to have admired. But the same author has composed a new tragedy on a subject of invention; and here he appears a true disciple of Sophocles and Racine. I hope in time he will vindicate the English stage from the reproach of barbarism.
I shall be very glad if the employing my name in your account of Mr. Blacklock can be of any service. I am, Sir, with great regard, &c.
P.S.—Mr. Blacklock is very docible, and glad to receive corrections. I am only afraid he is too apt to have a deference for other people's judgment. I did not see the last edition till it was printed; but I have sent him some objections to passages, for which he was very thankful. I also desired him to retrench some poems entirely; such as the Ode on Fortitude, and some others, which seemed to me inferior to the rest of the collection. You will very much oblige him, if you use the same freedom. I remarked to him some Scotticisms; but you are better qualified for doing him that service. I have not seen any of his essays; and am afraid his prose is inferior to his poetry. He will soon be in town, when I shall be enabled to write you further particulars.
In 1756, Spence published his edition of Blacklock's poems, with a long introduction, in which all allusion to Hume's letter, and his services to Blacklock, is carefully avoided. Blacklock was subsequently alienated from Hume, and was accused by some of ingratitude; while others threw the odium of the dispute on Hume, who, they said, was mortified because Spence's edition of Blacklock's Poems was not dedicated to him. Whoever may have been in the wrong, the latter supposition is erroneous, as we shall find Hume at a much later period conferring services on Blacklock, who in his turn gratefully acknowledges them. The zeal of Spence to blot from the work any mark that might connect it with the name of Hume, is alluded to with good-natured sarcasm, in a letter to Dr. Clephane, farther on.
The following letter, connected with another curious circumstance, describes an incident in Hume's conduct to Blacklock.
Hume to Adam Smith.
"Edinburgh, 17th December, 1754.
"Dear Sir,—I told you that I intended to apply to the Faculty for redress; and, if refused, to throw up the library. I was assured that two of the curators intended before the Faculty to declare their willingness to redress me, after which there could be no difficulty to gain a victory over the other two. But before the day came, the Dean prevailed on them to change their resolution, and joined them himself with all his interest. I saw it then impossible to succeed, and accordingly retracted my application. But being equally unwilling to lose the use of the books, and to bear an indignity, I retain the office, but have given Blacklock, our blind poet, a bond of annuity for the salary. I have now put it out of these malicious fellows' power to offer me any indignity, while my motive for remaining in this office is so apparent. I should be glad that you approve of my conduct. I own I am satisfied with myself."[394:1]
The following minute or memorandum, in Hume's handwriting,[394:2] explains the ground of his disgust. One of the "malicious fellows" appears to have been Lord Monboddo; another, Sir David Dalrymple, afterwards Lord Hailes, with whom he never was on very cordial terms.
"Edinburgh, 27th June, 1754.
"This day Mr. James Burnet, [Mr. Thomas Millar,] and Sir David Dalrymple, curators of the library, (then follow some arrangement as to meetings,) having gone through some accounts of books, lately bought for the library, and finding therein the three following French books, Les Contes de La Fontaine, L'Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules, and L'Écumoire, they ordain that the said books be struck out of the catalogue of the library, and removed from the shelves as indecent books, and unworthy of a place in a learned library.
"And to prevent the like abuses in time to come, they appoint that after this no books shall be bought for the library, without the authority of a meeting of the curators in time of session, and of two of them in time of vacation."
It involves no approval of the licentious features of French literature, to pronounce this resolution of the curators pre-eminently absurd. A public library, purged of every book of which any portion might offend the taste of a well-regulated mind of the present day, would unfortunately be very barren in the most brilliant departments of the literature of other days and other languages. It would be wrong in the guardians of a public library to advance to the dignity of its shelves, those loathsome books written for the promotion of vice, of which, though they be published by no eminent bookseller, exhibited on no respectable counter, advertised in no newspaper, too many have found their way, by secret avenues, into the heart of society, where they corrupt its life-blood. But if Greece, Rome, and France,—if our own ancestors, had a freer tone in their imaginative literature than we have, we must yet admit their works to our libraries, if we would have these institutions depositaries of the genius of all times and all places. The Faculty of Advocates are probably not less virtuous at this moment than they were in 1754, yet they have now on their shelves the brilliant edition of all La Fontaine's works, published at Amsterdam in 1762,—so that the expurgatory zeal of the three curators, had only put their constituents to the expense of replacing the condemned book.[396:1] L'Écumoire may also still be found in the Advocates' library, along with the other still more censurable works of its author, Crebillon the younger, who was certainly a free writer, but scarcely deserved the very opprobrious name which he obtained, of the French Petronius. Hume was afterwards the acquaintance and correspondent of this author, who was anxious to hear that his works were well received in Britain. Would Hume tell him that it was considered in Edinburgh an offence against decency, to admit one of them to a national library? The other condemned work, which is generally attributed to Bussy Rabutin, is not now to be found in the catalogues of the Advocates' library.[396:2]
Amidst such unpleasant interruptions he brought the first volume of his History to a conclusion; and thus announces the fact to a friend, while in the midst of his satisfaction he does not forget poor Blacklock.
Hume to Dr. Clephane.
"Sept. 1, 1754.
"Dear Doctor,—I desire you to give me joy. Jamque opus exegi, &c. This day I received from the press the last sheet of the volume of history which I intended to publish; and I am already well advanced in composing the second volume. It was impossible for the booksellers to refuse to several the sight of the sheets as we went on; and Whig and Tory, and Tory and Whig, (for I will alternately give them the precedence,) combine as I am told in approving of my politics. A few Christians only (and but a few) think I speak like a Libertine in religion: be assured I am tolerably reserved on this head. Elliot tells me that you had entertained apprehensions of my discretion: what I had done to forfeit with you the character of prudence, I cannot tell, but you will see little or no occasion for any such imputation in this work. I composed it ad populum, as well as ad clerum, and thought, that scepticism was not in its place in an historical production. I shall take care to convey a copy to you by the first opportunity, and shall be very proud of your approbation, and no less pleased with your reprehensions.
"Our friend Aber is again to enjoy the privilege of franking after a hiatus valde deflendus. Edmonstone is at Peterhead drinking the waters for his health. Sir Harry lives among his boroughs, but not so assiduous in his civilities as formerly; an instance of ingratitude which one would not expect in a man of such nice honour. I was lately told, that one day last winter he went to pay a visit to a deacon's wife, who happened in that very instant to be gutting fish. He came up to her with open arms, and said he hoped madam was well, and that the young ladies her daughters were in good health. 'Oh, come not near me,' cried she, 'Sir Harry; I am in a sad pickle, as nasty as a beast.'—'Not at all, madam,' replied he, 'you are in a very agreeable négligé.' 'Well,' said she, 'I shall never be able to understand your fine English.'—'I mean, madam,' returned he, 'that you are drest in a very genteel deshabillé.'
"There is a young man of this country, Mr. Thomas Blacklock, who has discovered a very fine genius for poetry, and under very extraordinary circumstances. He is the son of a poor tradesman, and was born blind; yet, notwithstanding these disadvantages, he has been able to acquire a great knowledge of Greek, Latin, and French, and to be well acquainted with all the classics in these languages, as well as in our own. He published last winter a volume of Miscellanies, which all men of taste admired extremely for their purity, elegance, and correctness; nor were they devoid of force and invention. I sent up half-a-dozen to Dodsley, desiring him to keep one, and to distribute the rest among men of taste of his acquaintance. I find they have been much approved of, and that Mr. Spence, in particular, has entertained thoughts of printing a new edition by subscription, for the benefit of the author. You are an acquaintance of Mr. Spence: encourage, I beseech you, so benevolent a thought, and promote it every where by your recommendation. The young man has a great deal of modesty, virtue, and goodness, as well as of genius, and notwithstanding very strict frugality, is in great necessities; but curst, or blest, with that honest pride of nature, which makes him uneasy under obligations, and disdain all applications. I need say no more to you. Dear Doctor, believe me, with great honesty and affection, your friend and servant."[399:1]
Before the year 1754 came to an end, there was published, in a quarto volume of four hundred and seventy-three pages, "The History of Great Britain. Volume I. Containing the reigns of James I. and Charles I. By David Hume, Esq."[399:2] He had now laid the foundation of a title to that which all the genius and originality of his philosophical works would never have procured for him—the reputation of a popular author. His other works might exhibit a wider and a more original grasp of thought: but the readers of metaphysics and ethics are a small number; while the readers of history, and especially of the history of their own country, are a community nearly as great as the number of those who can read their own language. In this large market he produced his ware; and after some hesitation on the part of those ordinary readers, who had never known his genius as a philosopher, and of those who knew his previous writings, but did not esteem them, it took the place of a permanent marketable commodity—a sort of necessary of literary life. The general reader found in it a distinct and animated narrative, announced in a style easy, strong, and elegant. The philosopher and statesman found in it profound and original views, such as the author of the "Treatise of Human Nature" could not wield the pen without occasionally dropping on his page. It was a work at once great in its excellencies and beauties, and great in its defects; yet even the latter circumstance swelled its fame, by producing a host of controversial attacks, conducted by no mean champions. No author or speaker could launch into a defence of monarchical prerogative without triumphantly citing the opinion of Hume;—no friend of any popular cause, from Chatham downwards, could appeal to history without condemning his plausible perversions. No season of a debating society has ever ended without the vexed questions he has started being discussed in conjunction with his name. Every newspaper has recorded the editor's opinion of the tendency of Hume's History. In reviews and magazines, and political pamphlets, the references, laudatory or condemnatory, are still, notwithstanding all that has been done for British history in later times, unceasing; and some books, of no small bulk, have been written, solely against the History, as one pamphlet is written against another.
Of a book which is so universally known, and has been subjected to so thorough a critical examination, both in its narrative and its reflective parts, a detailed criticism in a work like the present would be superfluous and unwelcome. But the great extent of the controversial writings on the subject, the quantity of able criticism which the controversy has produced, the new light it has frequently been the means of throwing on portions of British history, and the variety of contending opinions it has elicited, do, in some measure, enable one who is partial to that kind of reading, to note slightly and fugitively the leading opinions which this controversy has developed; and thus, looking back through the whole vista of debate and inquiry, to describe, in general terms, the estimate which those who have since Hume's time studied British history to best effect, have formed of his great work. Perhaps, for casting a glance at the general principles he has announced as to the progress of the constitution and public opinion in Britain, as well as the general scope and extent of his historical labours, his work may be divided into two leading departments; the history from the accession of the house of Tudor downwards, which he completed in 1759; and the history anterior to that epoch, which was published at a later period of his life. In this arrangement, the general observations will find their place in a subsequent portion of this work; while, in the meantime, the opinions entertained of the narrative department of the volume, published in 1754, may be noticed.
The chief charge brought against it has been, that in describing the great conflict which ended in the protectorate, the author has shown a partiality to the side of the monarch, and particularly to Charles I. and his followers; and has endeavoured to make the opposite side—Independents, Presbyterians, Republicans, or under whatever name they raised the banner of opposition to the court—odious and ridiculous.
Before Hume's day, every historian of those times took his side from the beginning of the narrative, and proclaimed himself either the champion or the opponent of the monarchical party. Salmon, Echard, and Carte[401:1] wrote histories, in which, if they had spoken with decency or temper of Oliver Cromwell, the Long Parliament, the Presbyterians, or the Independents, they would have felt that they had as much neglected their duty, as an advocate who, seeing some irregularity in the case of the opposite party, fails to take advantage of it. The title-page of Salmon announced his project: it promised "Remarks on Rapin, Burnet, and other Republican writers, vindicating the just right of the Established Church, and the prerogatives of the crown, against the wild schemes of enthusiasts and levellers, no less active and diligent in promoting the subversion of this beautiful frame of government, than their artful predecessors in hypocrisy," &c. But Hume professed to approach the subject as a philosopher, and to hold the balance even between Salmon and Echard on the one side, and Oldmixon and Rapin on the other. Hence, when it was believed that, under this air of impartiality, he masked a battery well loaded and skilfully pointed against the principles of the constitution, and the efforts of those who had fought for freedom, a louder cry of indignation was raised against him than had ever assailed the avowed retainers of the anti-popular cause.
The tendency of the History was unexpected and inexplicable. In his philosophical examination of the principles of government, written in times of hot party feeling, he had discarded the theories of arbitrary prerogative and divine right with bold and calm disdain. His utilitarian theory represented the good of the people, not the will or advantage of any one man, or small class of men, as the right object of government. Harrison, Milton, and Sidney, had not expressed opinions more thoroughly democratic than his. "Few things," says a critic, well accustomed to trace literary anomalies to their causes in the minds of their authors, "are more unaccountable, and, indeed, absurd, than that Hume should have taken part with high church and high monarchy men. The persecutions which he suffered in his youth from the Presbyterians, may, perhaps, have influenced his ecclesiastical partialities.[403:1] But that he should have sided with the Tudors and the Stuarts against the people, seems quite inconsistent with all the great traits of his character. His unrivalled sagacity must have looked with contempt on the preposterous arguments by which the jus divinum was maintained. His natural benevolence must have suggested the cruelty of subjecting the enjoyments of thousands to the caprice of one unfeeling individual; and his own practical independence in private life, might have taught him the value of those feelings which he has so mischievously derided."[403:2]
In truth, it does not appear that Hume had begun his work with the intention of adopting a side in the politics of the time; and that sympathy, rather than rational conviction or political prejudice, dictated his partisanship. His misapprehensions regarding the state of the constitution, and the early foundation of British liberties, may be attributed to another cause; but in his treatment of the question between Charles I. and his opponents, he appears to have set out with the design of preserving a rigid neutrality; to have gradually felt his sympathies wavering,—to have at first restrained them, then let them sway him slightly from the even middle path, and finally allowed them to take possession of his opinions; opinions which, in their form of expression, still preserved that tone of calm impartiality with which he had set out. In the work of Clarendon—a scholar, a gentleman, a dignified and elegant writer, a man of high-toned and manly feeling—he found an attractive guide. In looking at the structure of Hume's narrative, we can see that Clarendon was the author, whose account of the great conflict was chiefly present to his mind; and dwelling on his words and ideas, he must have in some measure felt the influence of that plausible writer. As he went on with his narrative, he found on the one side refinement and heroism, an elevated and learned priesthood, a chivalrous aristocracy, a refined court,—all "the divinity" that "doth hedge a king," followed by all the sad solemnity of fallen greatness,—an adverse contest, borne with steady courage, and humiliation and death endured with patient magnanimity. On the other side appeared plebeian thoughts, rude uncivil speech, barbarous and ludicrous fanaticism, and success consummated by ungenerous triumphs. His philosophical indifference gave way before such temptations, and he went the way of his sympathies. Yet he never permitted himself boldly and distinctly to profess partisanship: he still bore the badge of neutrality; and perhaps believed that he was swerving neither to the right hand nor to the left. An eloquent writer has thus vividly described the tone of his History: