Hume to Andrew Millar.
"Edinburgh, 20th May, 1757.
"I have already begun, and am a little advanced in a third volume of History. I do not preclude myself from the view of going forward to the period after the Revolution; but, at present, I begin with the reign of Henry the Seventh. It is properly at that period modern history commences. America was discovered; commerce extended; the arts cultivated; printing invented; religion reformed, and all the governments of Europe almost changed. I wish, therefore, I had begun here at first. I should have obviated many objections that were made to the other volumes. I shall be considerably advanced in this volume before I be in London.
"I come now to speak to you of an affair which gives me uneasiness, and which I mention with reluctance. I am told that one Dr. Brown has published a book in London, where there is a note containing personal reflections on me, for which he quotes a letter I wrote to you.[23:1] What sort of behaviour this is, to make use of a private letter, without the permission of the person to whom it was addressed, is easily conceived; but how he came to see any of my letters, I cannot imagine; nor what I wrote, that could give him any handle for his calumny. All I can recollect of the matter is this, that above two years ago, when Bailie Hamilton was in London, he wrote me, that the stop in the sale of my History proceeded from some strokes of irreligion, which had raised the cry of the clergy against me. This gave me occasion to remark to you, that the Bailie's complaint must have proceeded from his own misconduct; that the cause he assigned could never have produced that effect; that it was rather likely to increase the sale, according to all past experience; that you had offered (as I heard) a large sum for Bolingbroke's Works, trusting to this consequence; and that the strokes complained of were so few, and of such small importance, that, if any ill effects could have been apprehended from them, they might easily have been retrenched. As far as I can recollect, this was the purport of my letter;[24:1] but I must beg you, that you would cause it to be transcribed, and send me a copy of it, for I find by John Hume that you have it still by you. I doubt not but I could easily refute Dr. Brown; but as I had taken a resolution never to have the least altercation with these fellows, I shall not readily be brought to pay any attention to him; and I cannot but be displeased that your inadvertence or indiscretion (for I cannot give it a better name) should have brought me to this dilemma. I fancy Brown will find it a difficult matter to persuade the public that I do not speak my sentiments in every subject I handle, and that I have any view to any interest whatsoever. I leave that to him and his gang: for he is a flatterer, as I am told, of that low fellow, Warburton; and any thing so low as Warburton, or his flatterers, I should certainly be ashamed to engage with. I am, &c.
"P.S. Since you are acquainted with Dr. Brown, I must beg of you to read this letter to him; for it is probably, or indeed certainly, all the answer I shall ever deign to give him."[25:1]
The reader will feel interested in the sketch, by the pen of Hume, of an eminent contemporary—his friend Wilkie—in the following letter.
Hume to Gilbert Elliot of Minto.
"Edinburgh, 3d July, 1757.
"Dear Sir,—To show you that I am not such an affecter of singularity as to entertain prejudices against ministers of state,[25:2] I am resolved to congratulate you on your return to power, and to express my wishes, that, both for your sake and the public's, your ministry, and that of your friends, may be more durable than it was before. We even hope it will, though the strange motley composition which it consists of, gives us some apprehensions. However, we are glad to find, from past experience, that you can neither rise nor fall, without credit and reputation. You know that, according to the whimsical way in this country, it is more difficult to rise than fall with reputation.
"I suppose that, by this time, you have undoubtedly read and admired the wonderful production of the Epigoniad, and that you have so much love for arts, and for your native country, as to be very industrious in propagating the fame of it. It is certainly a most singular production, full of sublimity and genius, adorned by a noble, harmonious, forcible, and even correct versification. We generally think the story deficient and uninteresting; but perhaps the new fancy of crossing the invention of all modern romance-writers may make some atonement, and even bestow an air of novelty on the imitation of Homer. As I cannot but hope that this work will soon become the subject of conversation in London, I shall take this opportunity of supplying you with some anecdotes with regard to the author, besides such as you already know,—of his being a very worthy and a very entertaining man, adorned with all that simplicity of manners, so common to great men, and even with some of that rusticity and negligence which serve to abate that envy to which they are so much exposed.
"You know he is a farmer's son, in the neighbourhood of this town, where there are a great number of pigeon-houses. The farmers are very much infested with the pigeons, and Wilkie's father planted him often as a scarecrow (an office for which he is well qualified) in the midst of his fields of wheat. It was in this situation that he confessed he first conceived the design of his epic poem, and even executed part of it. He carried out his Homer with him, together with a table, and pen and ink, and a great rusty gun. He composed and wrote two or three lines, till a flock of pigeons settled in the field, then rose up, ran towards them, and fired at them; returned again to his former station, and added a rhyme or two more, till he met with a fresh interruption.
"Two or three years ago, Jemmy Russel put a very pleasant trick on an English physician, one Dr. Roebuck, who was travelling in this country. Russel carried him out one day on horseback to see the outlets of the town, and purposely led him by Wilkie's farm. He saw the bard at a small distance, sowing his corn, with a sheet about him, all besmeared with dirt and sweat, with a coat and visage entirely proportioned to his occupation. Russel says to his companion, 'Here is a fellow, a peasant, with whom I have some business: let us call him.' He made a sign, and Wilkie came to them: some questions were asked him with regard to the season, to his farm and husbandry, which he readily answered; but soon took an opportunity of digressing to the Greek poets, and enlarging on that branch of literature. Dr. Roebuck, who had scarce understood his rustic English, or rather his broad Scotch, immediately comprehended him, for his Greek was admirable; and on leaving him, he could not forbear expressing the highest admiration to Russel, that a clown, a rustic, a mere hind, such as he saw this fellow was, should be possessed of so much erudition. 'Is it usual,' says he, 'for your peasants in Scotland to read the Greek poets?'—'O Yes,' replies Russel, very coolly, 'we have long winter evenings; and in what can they employ themselves better, than in reading the Greek poets?' Roebuck left the country in a full persuasion that there are at least a dozen farmers in every parish who read Homer, Hesiod, and Sophocles, every winter-evening, to their families; and, if ever he writes an account of his travels, it is likely he will not omit so curious a circumstance.
"Wilkie is now a settled minister at Ratho, within four miles of the town.[27:1] He possesses about £80 or £90 a-year, which he esteems exorbitant riches. Formerly, when he had only £20, as helper, he said that he could not conceive what article, either of human convenience or pleasure he was deficient in, nor what any man could mean by desiring more money. He possesses several branches of erudition, besides the Greek poetry; and, particularly, is a very profound geometrician, a science commonly very incompatible with the lively imagination of a poet. He has even made some new discoveries in that science; and he told me, that, when a young man, he threw cross and pile, whether he should devote himself chiefly to mathematics or to poetry, and fears that rather he crossed the bent of his genius in taking to the latter. Yet this man, who has composed the second epic poem in our language! understands so little of orthography, that, regularly through the whole poem, he spelled the word yield in this manner, 'ealde;' and I had great difficulty to convince him of his mistake.
"I fancy our friend, Robertson, will be able to publish his History next winter. You are sufficiently acquainted with the merit of this work; and really it is admirable how many men of genius this country produces at present. Is it not strange that, at a time when we have lost our princes, our parliaments, our independent government,—even the presence of our chief nobility; are unhappy, in our accent and pronunciation; speak a very corrupt dialect of the tongue we make use of,—is it not strange, I say, that, in these circumstances, we should really be the people most distinguished for literature in Europe?
"Having spoke so much to Mr. Elliot, the man of letters, you must now allow me to say a few words to Mr. Elliot, the lord of the admiralty. There is a cousin-german of mine, Alexander Edgar, who is midshipman in the Vestal, off Harwich, and has passed his trials, above four months ago, for a lieutenantcy. He always behaved well in all his service, which has been very long; and, almost from his infancy, he has had the good-will, and even friendship, of all his captains; is modest, sober, frugal, and attentive, and very deserving of promotion. I recommended him to Mr. Oswald, who always protected him, but can no longer be of service to him. He is of a very good family, though his father spent his estate and died a bankrupt; and the poor lad has now scarce any other friends than what I can procure him: permit me the freedom of recommending him to your protection. If I did not think him worthy of it, I should not venture to do so, notwithstanding his near relationship to me. I think I ought to make some apologies for this liberty I use with you; but I think it would be wronging our friendship to make too many. I am, dear sir, your most obedient humble servant."[29:1]
Wilkie's Epigoniad, of which few ordinary readers now know more than the name, if even that be very generally remembered south of the Tweed, inspired many zealous Scotsmen of the day, with the belief that their country had, at last, produced a great epic poet: but the national feeling was not responded to in England.[29:2]
Finding that the Epigoniad was attacked by the English critics, Hume was determined to be the champion of his countryman's fame against all comers; and accordingly addressed a letter to the editor of The Critical Review , containing a long complimentary criticism, in which he says,—
There remained a tradition among the Greeks, that Homer had taken this second siege of Thebes for the subject of a poem, which is lost; and our author seems to have pleased himself with the thoughts of reviving the work, as well as of treading in the footsteps of his favourite author. The actors are mostly the same with those of the Iliad; Diomede is the hero; Ulysses, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Nestor, Idomeneus, Merion, even Thersites, all appear in different passages of the poem; and act parts suitable to the lively characters drawn of them by that great master. The whole turn of this new poem would almost lead us to imagine, that the Scottish bard had found the lost manuscript of that father of poetry, and had made a faithful translation of it into English. Longinus imagines, that the Odyssey was executed by Homer in his old age; we shall allow the Iliad to be the work of his middle age; and we shall suppose that the Epigoniad was the essay of his youth, where his noble and sublime genius breaks forth by frequent intervals, and gives strong symptoms of that constant flame which distinguished its meridian. . . .
The story of a poem, whatever may be imagined, is the least essential part of it; the force of the versification, the vivacity of the images, the justness of the descriptions, the natural play of the passions, are the chief circumstances which distinguish the great poet from the prosaic novelist, and give him so high a rank among the heroes in literature; and I will venture to affirm, that all these advantages, especially the three former, are to be found, in an eminent degree, in the Epigoniad. The author, inspired with the true genius of Greece, and smit with the most profound veneration for Homer, disdains all frivolous ornaments; and relying entirely on his sublime imagination, and his nervous and harmonious expression, has ventured to present to his reader the naked beauties of nature, and challenges for his partisans all the admirers of genuine antiquity.[31:1]
In his conduct on this occasion, Hume exhibited strong national partiality. It may seem at first sight at variance with some of his other characteristics; but it is undoubtedly true, that Hume was imbued with an intense spirit of nationality. It was a nationality, however, of a peculiar and restricted character. He cared little about the heroism of his country, or even its struggles for independence: Wallace, Bruce, and the Black Douglas, were, in his eyes, less interesting than Ulysses or Æneas,
But in that arena which he thought the greatest, in the theatre where intellect exhibits her might, he panted to see his country first and greatest. No Scotsman could write a book of respectable talent without calling forth his loud and warm eulogiums. Wilkie was to be the Homer, Blacklock the Pindar, and Home the Shakspere, or something still greater, of his country. On those who were even his rivals in his own peculiar walks—Adam Smith, Robertson, Ferguson, and Henry, he heaped the same honest, hearty commendation. He urged them to write; he raised the spirit of literary ambition in their breasts; he found publishers for their works; and, when these were completed, he trumpeted the praises of the authors through society.
The following letter shows how accidentally Hume became acquainted with a matter, which, according to modern notions, should have formed part of his systematic studies, before he began to write a history of England.
Hume to Gilbert Elliot of Minto.
"Edinburgh, 9th Aug. 1757.
"Dear Sir,—I can easily perceive that your friends were no lawyers, who said that there was no statute in Henry the Seventh's reign, which facilitated the alienation of lands, and broke the ancient entails: it is 4 Hen. VII. cap. 24; but a man may read that passage fifty times, and not find any thing that seems, in the least, to point that way. I should certainly have overlooked the meaning of it, had I not been guided by Lord Kames. You must know that it was a practice in the courts of justice, before Henry the Seventh's time, to break entails by a device which seems very ridiculous, but which is continued to this day, and first received the sanction of law during the reign of that prince. You have an entailed estate, I suppose, and want to break the entail. You agree with me that I am to claim the estate by a sham title, prior to the first entailer; you confess in court that my title is good and valid; the judges, upon this confession of the party, adjudge the estate to me; upon which I immediately restore the estate to you, free and unencumbered; and by this hocus-pocus the entail is broke.—Such was the practice, pretty common before Henry the Seventh. All that the parliament then did, was to regulate the method of proceeding in this fine device, and to determine that the titles of minors, and femmes couvert, were not to be injured by it. As to other people, who had an interest to preserve an entail, and who had any good reason to plead in their own favour, they would naturally appear for themselves. This practice is called a fine, and a recovery: fine, from the Latin word finis; because it forecloses all parties, and puts a final issue to their claims and pretensions: a recovery, because a man thereby recovers his estate, without the encumbrance of an entail.
"By the bye, I am told, that there are many of these practices still continued in the law of England; which are as foolish, juvenile, and ridiculous, as are to be met with in —— I mean in —— I would be understood to mean in —— any craft or profession of the world.[33:1]
"I am writing the History of England, from the accession of Henry the Seventh, and am some years advanced in Henry the Eighth. I undertook this work because I was tired of idleness, and found reading alone, after I had often perused all good books, (which I think is soon done,) somewhat a languid occupation. As to the approbation or esteem of those blockheads who call themselves the public, and whom a bookseller, a lord, a priest, or a party can guide, I do most heartily despise it. I shall be able, I think, to make a tolerable smooth, well-told tale of the history of England during that period; but I own I have not yet been able to throw much new light into it. I begin the Reformation to-morrow.
"I find the public, with you, have rejected the Epigoniad, for the present. They may do so if they please; but it has a great deal of merit, much more than any one of them is capable of throwing into a work.
"I disapprove very much of Ferguson's scruples, with regard to entering into Lord Bute's family, with the inspection of more than one boy; but I hope Lord Bute will conform himself to his delicacy, at least if he wants to have a man of sense, knowledge, taste, elegance, and morals, for a tutor to his son.[34:1]
"I am obliged to you for your good intentions, with regard to my cousin; but you must express yourself otherwise, than by saying that you will concur with the rest of my friends in endeavouring to promote him; for now that Oswald is out of court, whom have I besides to apply to? Dear Sir, your most obedient humble servant."[34:2]
Hume to Andrew Millar.
"Edinburgh, 3d September, 1757.
"As to my opinions, you know I defend none of them positively; I only propose my doubts where I am so unhappy as not to receive the same conviction with the rest of mankind. It surprises me much to see any body who pretends to be a man of letters, discover anger on that account; since it is certain, by the experience of all ages, that nothing contributes more to the progress of learning than such disputes and novelties.
"Apropos to anger; I am positively assured, that Dr. Warburton wrote that letter to himself, which you sent me; and indeed the style discovers him sufficiently.[35:1] I should answer him; but he attacks so small a corner of my building, that I can abandon it without drawing great consequences after it. If he would come into the field and dispute concerning the principal topics of my philosophy, I should probably accept the challenge: at present nothing could tempt me to take the pen in hand but anger, of which I feel myself incapable, even upon this provocation.
"I have finished the Index to the new collection of my pieces; this Index cost me more trouble than I was aware of when I began it. I am obliged to Mr. Strahan, for the uncommon pains he has taken in making it correct. The Errata which I have given, consist mostly of small alterations in the style, which I made myself. You know I always expect half-a-dozen of copies on each new edition. I would wish that Mr. Strahan would accept of one, as a proof of the sense which I have of his care on this occasion. Please keep one by you, which I fancy I shall have occasion to send abroad; and be so good as to send the other four, with any other parcel you are sending hither. I am very assiduous in writing a new volume of History, and am now pretty well advanced. I find the whole will be comprised in one volume, though somewhat more bulky than any of the former. The period of time is a great deal longer than that of either of the former, but is not near so full of interesting matter; and as the original historians are much fewer, there are not so many circumstances transmitted to us. I am pretty certain, that I shall be able to deliver to you the manuscript about a twelvemonth hence, and shall certainly be in London myself for that purpose. You seemed desirous that we should mutually enter into articles about this volume; which I declined, till I should be so much advanced as to be sure of my resolution of executing it, and could judge with some certainty of the bulk. Now that I am satisfied in both these particulars, I am willing to engage with you for the same price, viz. seven hundred pounds, payable three months after the publication. If you approve of this proposal, please write me a letter for that purpose; and I shall also, in return, send you an obligatory letter. I think this justice is due to you, that you may see I do not intend, on account of any success, to screw up the price, or ask beyond what you have already allowed me, which, I own, was very reasonable.
"Mr. Dalrymple has paid me twenty pounds and a crown. I can never meet with Mr. Wright, though I call often at his shop. Mr. Balfour does not name any day.
"I am glad of the approbation which Mr. Dalrymple's book meets with; I think it really deserves it.[37:1]
"Nothing surprises me more than the ill usage which the Epigoniad has received. Every body here likes it extremely. The plan and story is not so much admired, as the poetry and versification; but your critics seem willing to allow it no merit at all. I fancy it has not been enough dispersed; and that your engaging on it, would extremely forward its success. The whole edition is out. There were five hundred and fifty disposed of here; two hundred sent to London. As the author is my very good friend and acquaintance, I should be much pleased to bring you to an understanding together. If the bad success on the first edition has not discouraged you, I would engage him to make you proposals for that purpose. He will correct all the blemishes remarked. I should not be displeased that you read to Dr. Warburton, the paragraph in the first page of my letter, with regard to himself. The hopes of getting an answer, might probably engage him to give us something farther of the same kind; which, at least, saves you the expense of advertising. I see the doctor likes a literary squabble.
"I would be glad to know, how near you think you are to a new edition of my History, and whether you intend a duodecimo edition of these philosophical pieces. I am," &c.[38:1]
David Hume to Dr. Clephane.
"Edinburgh, 3d Sept. 1757.
"Dear Doctor,—I am charmed to find you so punctual a correspondent. I always knew you to be a good friend, though I was afraid that I had lost you, and that you had joined that great multitude who abused me, and reproached me with Paganism, and Jacobitism, and many other wretched isms, of which I am only guilty of a part.
"I believe a man, when he is once an author, is an author for life; for I am now very busily engaged in writing another volume of history, and have crept backwards to the reign of Henry the Seventh. I wish indeed that I had begun there; for, by that means, I should have been able, without making any digression, by the plain course of the narration, to have shown how absolute the authority was which the English kings then possessed, and that the Stuarts did little or nothing more than continue matters in the former track, which the people were determined no longer to admit. By this means I should have escaped the reproach of the most terrible ism of them all, that of Jacobitism. I shall certainly be in London next summer; and probably to remain there during life; at least, if I can settle myself to my mind, which I beg you to have an eye to. A room in a sober, discreet family, who would not be averse to admit a sober, discreet, virtuous, frugal, regular, quiet, good-natured man of a bad character,—such a room, I say, would suit me extremely, especially if I could take most of my meals in the family; and more especially still, if it was not far distant from Dr. Clephane's. I shall then be able, dear doctor, to spend £150 a-year, which is the sum upon which, I remember, you formerly undertook me. But I would not have you reckon upon probabilities, as you then called them, for I am resolved to write no more. I shall read and correct, and chat and be idle, the rest of my life.
"I must now make room for Sir Harry, who smiles at the sum at which I have set up my rest. I am," &c.[39:1]
Among the officers of the Scottish Royal Regiment who served in the expedition to Port L'Orient, and afterwards continued in terms of familiar acquaintance with Hume, was captain, afterwards Colonel Edmondstoune, of Newton in Perthshire. His letters, which were preserved by Hume, and will occasionally be cited in these pages, show that he was a man of wit and learning. Frequent allusions to him, under the name of Guidelianus, have already occurred in Hume's letters to mutual friends. The following, graceful and thoroughly amiable as it is, is apparently the earliest of Hume's letters to him which has been preserved.
Hume to Captain Edmondstoune.
"Edinburgh, 29th Sept. 1757.
"Dear Edmondstoune,—I believe it is a rule in law, that any summons prevents prescription; and in like manner, that the wakening a process keeps one's rank in the lords' row.[40:1] It is with some such view that I now write to you; not to send you a formal letter, which would require a formal answer, and would therefore get no answer at all: but just to take a shake of your hand, and ask you how you do, and speak a little nonsense to you as usual, and then fall into s[ilence] without giving myself the trouble of supporting the conversation any lon[ger]; and, in a word, keep you from forgetting that you have some such friend in the world as myself.
"But pray, why did you not write me as you promised and give me your direction? Was you afraid I should write to you? You see I can find out a method of directing to you without your information.
"Tell me about the Epigoniad. Was there ever so much fine versification bestowed on so indifferent a story? Has it had any success in Ireland? I fancy not; for the criticklings in Dublin depend on the criticklings in London, who depend on the booksellers, who depend on their interest, which depends on their printing a book themselves. This is the cause why Wilkie's book is at present neglected, or damned, as they call it: but I am much mistaken if it end so. Pray what says the primate of it? I hear he has the generosity to support damned books till the resurrection, and that he is one of the saints who pray them out of purgatory. I hope he is an honest fellow and one of [us.] Captain Masterton told me, that he was not quite of my opinion with regard to the 'Douglas,' and that he blamed my dedicatory address to the author. But I persist still, and will prove in spite of him and you, and of every man who [wears eit]her black or scarlet, that it is an admirable tragedy, comparable [to the exce]llent pieces of the good age of Louis Quatorze. The author is here at present, and is refitting his 'Agis' for the theatre, which I hope will have justice done it. Il est le mieux renté de touts les beaux esprits. He has a pension from his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, as you have probably heard.
"I hear sometimes from the Doctor, who desires me to tell him something about you. But I am no necromancer; only, as the ancients said,—prudentia est quædam divinatio. I conjecture that you are lounging, and reading, and playing at whist, and blaming yourself for not writing letters, and yet persisting in the neglect of your duty."[41:1]
The following is the second letter in which we find Hume appreciating the merits of his friend and rival, Robertson. There is no passage in literary history, perhaps, more truly dignified, than the perfect cordiality and sincere interchange of services between two men, whose claims on the admiration of the world came in so close competition with each other.
Hume to Andrew Millar.
"Edinburgh, 6th April, 1758.
"Dear Sir,—I am very glad that Mr. Robertson is entering on terms with you. It was indeed my advice to him, when he set out for London, that he should think of no other body; and I ventured to assure him that he would find your way of dealing frank, and open, and generous. He read me part of his History, and I had an opportunity of reading another part of it in manuscript above a twelvemonth ago. Upon the whole, my expectations, both from what I saw, and from my knowledge of the author, were very much raised, and I consider it as a work of uncommon merit. I know that he has employed himself with great diligence and care in collecting the facts: his style is lively and entertaining; and he judges with temper and candour. He is a man generally known and esteemed in this country: and we look upon him very deservedly as inferior to nobody in capacity and learning. Hamilton and Balfour have offered him a very unusual price; no less than five hundred pounds for one edition of two thousand; but I own, that I should be better pleased to see him in your hands. I only inform you of this fact, that you may see how high the general expectations are of Mr. Robertson's performance. It will have a quick sale in this country, from the character of the author; and in England, from the merit of the work, as soon as it is known.
"Some part of his subject is common with mine; but as his work is a History of Scotland, mine of England, we do not interfere; and it will rather be an amusement to the reader to compare our method of treating the same subject. I give you thanks, however, for your attention in asking my opinion."[43:1]
The following is from another letter on the same subject.
"Edinburgh, 20th June, 1758.
"I send enclosed a letter from Mr. Robertson. He wishes it were practicable to send him more than one sheet every post. I am afraid, if this be not done, our publications will interfere, which would be disagreeable to you as well as to both of us.
"I have read a small pamphlet called 'Sketches,' which, from the style, I take to be Dr. Armstrong's, though the public voice gives it to Allan Ramsay.[43:2] I find the ingenious author, whoever he be, ridicules the new method of spelling, as he calls it; but that method of spelling honor, instead of honour, was Lord Bolingbroke's, Dr. Middleton's, and Mr. Pope's; besides many other eminent writers'. However, to tell truth, I hate to be any way particular in a trifle; and therefore, if Mr. Strahan has not printed off above ten or twelve sheets, I should not be displeased if you told him to follow the usual, that is, his own way of spelling throughout; we shall make the other volumes conformable to it: if he be advanced farther, there is no great matter."[43:3]
A letter to Elliot, after some farther recommendations of Hume's nephew, young Edgar, to his attention, thus proceeds:—
Hume to Gilbert Elliot of Minto.
"Edinburgh, 11th May, 1758.
"I have the prospect of paying my respects to you this autumn, in London. I am now come within sight of land, and am drawing near to a period of that volume which I had undertaken. I find the subject curious; and I believe that this volume will contain some novelty, as well as greater accuracy of composition, than is employed by our ordinary historians. I could add, greater than is requisite to please the taste of the public,—at least if we may judge by the vast success of Dr. Smollett's history. Vanitas vanitatum, atque omnia vanitas, says the Preacher; the great object of us authors, and of you orators and statesmen, is to gain applause; and you see at what rate it is to be purchased. I fancy there is a future state, to give poets, historians, and philosophers their due reward, and to distribute to them those recompenses which are so strangely shared out in this life. It is of little consequence that posterity does them justice, if they are for ever to be ignorant of it, and are to remain in perpetual slumber in their literary paradise. However, it is some comfort, that virtue is its own reward, and that a man cannot employ himself in the cultivation of letters without reaping a real present satisfaction from his industry. I am, dear sir, your most obliged humble servant.
"P.S.—I am sorry to hear that the bill for the importation of Irish cattle is rejected. Besides other arguments for it, I remember a strong argument which was used in Charles II.'s time against the prohibition, when it was first laid on: it was affirmed that the shipping employed in that commerce was nearly equal to that which served for the carriage of coal from Newcastle to London. It is not improbable that this argument has, at present, escaped all the reasoners on that subject; and I thought it a proper one to be suggested to a lord of the Admiralty. It is to be found, if my memory do not deceive me, in Carte's Ormond, and was employed by that duke."[45:1]
In the year 1759, Adam Ferguson was appointed professor of natural philosophy in the university of Edinburgh. From the following correspondence, it appears that Hume and others were desirous that Smith should occupy a chair in Edinburgh, and, apparently, the same that was obtained by Ferguson,[45:2] and that Ferguson should succeed Smith in Glasgow. The singular terms on which the Edinburgh professorship appears to have been disposed of, were, probably, not such as Smith would accede to; and we afterwards find Hume conducting a negotiation for Ferguson alone.
Hume to Adam Smith.
"8th June, 1758.
"Dear Smith,—I sit down to write to you along with Johnstone; and as we have been talking over the matter, it is probable we shall employ the same arguments. As he is the younger lawyer, I leave him to open the case, and, suppose that you have read his letter first. We are certain that the settlement of you here, and of Ferguson at Glasgow, would be perfectly easy, by Lord Milton's interest. The prospect of prevailing with Abercromby is also very good; for the same statesman, by his influence over the town council, could oblige him either to attend, which he never would do, or dispose of the office for the money which he gave for it. The only real difficulty is, then, with you. Pray, then, consider that this is, perhaps, the only opportunity we shall ever have of getting you to town. I dare swear that you think the difference of place is worth paying something for; and yet it will really cost you nothing. You made above £100 a-year, by your class, when in this place, though you had not the character of professor. We cannot suppose that it will be less than £130 after you are settled. John Stevenson; and it is John Stevenson, makes near £150, as we were informed upon inquiry.[46:1] Here is £100 a-year for eight years' purchase; which is a cheap purchase, even considered as the way of a bargain. We flatter ourselves that you rate our company at something; and the prospect of settling Ferguson will be an additional inducement. For, though we think of making him take up the project if you refuse it, yet it is uncertain whether he will consent; and it is attended, in his case, with many very obvious objections. I beseech you, therefore, to weigh all these motives over again. The alteration of these circumstances merit that you should put the matter again in deliberation. I had a letter from Miss Hepburn, where she regrets very much that you are settled at Glasgow, and that we had the chance of seeing you so seldom. I am," &c.
"P.S.—Lord Milton can, with his finger, stop the foul mouths of all the roarers against heresy."[47:1]
Hume to the Rev. John Jardine.[47:2]
"Rev. Sir,—I am informed, by the late Rev. Mr. John Home, that the still Rev. Adam Ferguson's affair is so far on a good footing, that it is agreed to refer the matter to the Justice Clerk, whether more shall be paid to Mr. Abercromby than he himself gave for that professorship. Now, as it is obvious that, in these kinds of references, where the question is not of law and justice, the circumstances of the person are to be considered, I beg of you to inform my Lord of the true state of the case. Ferguson must borrow almost the whole sum which he pays for this office. If any more, therefore, be asked than £1000, it would be the most ruinous thing in the world for him to accept of the office. I am even of opinion that if any other method of subsistence offered, it were preferable to this scheme of paying the length of £1000; at least such would be my sentiments, if the case were mine.
"If the Justice Clerk considers the matter aright, he will never agree to so unreasonable a demand as that of paying more; and I hope you will second these arguments with all your usual eloquence, by which you so successfully confound the devices of Satan, and bring sinners to repentance. I am, Rev. Sir, your most obsequious humble servant."[47:3]
Towards the end of the year 1758, but at what particular time is not more minutely known, Hume went to London, and resided in Lisle Street, Leicester Fields. His object probably was to superintend the printing of the "History of the House of Tudor;" but he was able at the same time to perform essential services to his friend Dr. Robertson, whose "History of Scotland" was then going through the press in London. Of Hume's letters to Dr. Robertson, several have been published, though only in a fragmentary form, in Dugald Stewart's "Life of Robertson."[48:1] The portions thus preserved, are naturally those which have most relation to the person to whom they are addressed; but of the letters themselves, which doubtless, like many others from the same hand, contained some curious particulars of their author's habits and passing thoughts, no trace has been found.[48:2] Several of these letters, written while Robertson's work was at press, have relation to minor historical questions, which have subsequently been settled. The following extracts are given, from the parts which have least reference to these details.
Hume to Dr. Robertson.
(Extracts.)
I am afraid that you, as well as myself, have drawn Mary's character with too great softenings. She was, undoubtedly, a violent woman at all times. You will see in Murden proofs of the utmost rancour against her innocent, good-natured, dutiful son. She certainly disinherited him. What think you of a conspiracy for kidnapping him, and delivering him a prisoner to the King of Spain, never to recover his liberty till he should turn Catholic? Tell Goodall, that if he can but give me up Queen Mary, I hope to satisfy him in every thing else; and he will have the pleasure of seeing John Knox and the Reformers made very ridiculous. . . .
You have very good cause to be satisfied with the success of your History, as far as it can be judged of from a few weeks' publication. I have not heard of one who does not praise it warmly; and were I to enumerate all those whose suffrages I have either heard in its favour, or been told of, I should fill my letter with a list of names. Mallet told me that he was sure there was no Englishman capable of composing such a work. The town will have it that you was educated at Oxford, thinking it impossible for a mere untravelled Scotsman to produce such language. In short, you may depend on the success of your work, and that your name is known very much to your advantage.
I am diverting myself with the notion how much you will profit by the applause of my enemies in Scotland. Had you and I been such fools as to have given way to jealousy, to have entertained animosity and malignity against each other, and to have rent all our acquaintance into parties, what a noble amusement we should have exhibited to the blockheads, which now they are likely to be disappointed of. All the people whose friendship or judgment either of us value, are friends to both, and will be pleased with the success of both, as we will be with that of each other. I declare to you I have not of a long time had a more sensible pleasure than the good reception of your History has given me within this fortnight.