of the book, a number more than sufficient which his propositions-varied in every sucto supply the whole demand. The book cessive edition of his essays-are stated, consisted of two volumes, and included than essentially. Even in that boldest of all Book the first," of the Understanding;" his views-the statement that we but learn Book the second, "of the Passions;" to the relation of cause and effect by experiwhich was afterwards added a third volume, ence, and that experience never shows us containing Book the third, "of Virtue and more than the facts of antecedence and seVice in general." This publication, re-cast quence-when he says that from anteceseveral times during Hume's life, contains dence and sequence, however constant and the germ of all his writings on subjects of even invariable our observation may repremetaphysics or morals. sent the succession, causation cannot be with certainty inferred, we really see nothing that is not implied in almost every investigation in which a scientific man can be engaged, for Hume cannot be supposed consistently to deny the relation of cause and effect as an idea, when that very idea is what he is examining. In the very strongest possible statement of Hume's theory of this relation being one, not in things themselves, but in our mode of viewing them, and in its utmost consequence, it comes but to this, that without man's perceptions there is no external world to man. Nothing can be more painful than the dull pleasantries of Hume on what he calls superstition; which, however, has no peculiar concern with his argument, for his skepticism would affect it only in common with every thing else-i. e. would not affect it at all; and the wish to get his book into good company, as he would call it, seems to have been among the motives for these passages so interwoven with the context of his work, though not with the argument, that they are quite inseparable from it, and indeed render ambiguous, without considerable attention, much of what he says.

The system of Hume is in its principles identical with that of Locke and Berkeley, and it is in its application to subjects with which it is in reality unconnected-and from such application Hume did not abstain -that the charge of sophistry can be fairly made against it. The understanding, to use the language of this school, can have no ideas certainly can communicate nonewhich are not ultimately referable to sensation. This has, we think, been demonstrated by Locke; but this surely is nothing more than to examine the structure of what may be called the material mind and to affirm from such analysis any thing whatever of its faculties in exercise-of its power, or of its want of power-would be as idle as to examine the dust of the earth for the purpose of denying that of it man's body could have been framed, or to use the anatomist's knife to find the residence of the vital principle. Did even the intellect constitute man's whole inward being, and were the understanding the seat of the affections and the moral nature-which Hume did not assert, and which we believe to be untrue we think absolutely nothing in the slightest degree favorable to infidelity could be deduced from such concession: and some mischief has arisen from what we regard as the very common mistake, that in his philosophical principles is to be found the root of Hume's unbelief. We have little doubt that the true history of his state of mind on such subjects arose chiefly from the universal profligacy of the society in which he lived when in France, and in London too, where, we must remark, "religion was at the time set up as a principal object of mirth and ridicule, as it were by way of reprisal, for its having so long interrupted the pleasures of the world."* To determine the boundaries of the human faculties was with Hume, as with more successful investigators, the object of inquiry; and we think he differs from other inquirers rather in the form in

Butler's Preface to Analogy.

It is not at present easy, without a command of the several editions of Hume's writings, to determine in what degree they have been altered, or even which of the essays, as they now are arranged, were contained in a volume which he published in the year 1742, entitled "Essays, Moral and Political," which had a very considerable sale, and which Hume tells us Butler every where recommended.

Hume was a vain man, and never was man possessed so wholly by the demon that suggests literary distinction as the governing motive of a student's life. There is something almost sublime in the sense of desolation and dreariness in which the solitary student who had-fortunately but for a season-by abstruse research, stolen from his own nature all the natural man,* ex

"And haply by abstruse research to steal From my own nature all the natural man." COLERIDGE.

presses his feelings at the close of the first book of the Treatise on Human Nature:"Before I launch out into those immense depths of philosophy which lie before me, I find myself inclined to stop a moment in my present station, and to ponder that voyage which I have undertaken, and which undoubtedly requires the utmost art and industry to be brought to a happy conclusion. Methinks I am like a man, who having struck on many shoals, and having narrowly escaped shipwreck in passing a small frith, has yet the temerity to put out to sea in the same leaky, weather-beaten vessel, and even carries his ambition so far as to think of compassing the globe under these disadvantageous circumstances. My memory of past errors makes me diffident for the future. The

that in leaving all established opinions, I am following truth; and by what criterion shall I d.stinguish her, even if fortune should at last guide me on her footsteps? After the most accurate and exact of my reasonings, I can give no reason way I should assent to it; and feel nothing but a strong propensity to consider objects strongly in that view, under which they appear to me."

A passage that follows is still more melancholy. Let it never be forgotten, however, that Hume is speaking but of the aspect which things assume as the result of the decomposition of our poor intellect in a philosopher's crucible; and that he tells us that "since heaven is incapable of diswretched condition, weakness, and disorder of pelling these clouds, it fortunately happens the faculties I must employ in my inquiries, in- kind Nature herself suffices for the purcrease my apprehensions. And the impossi-pose, and cures me of this philosophical bility of amending or correcting these faculties, melancholy and delirium either by relaxing reduces me almost to despair, and makes me this bent of mind, or by some avocation or resolve to perish on the barren rock on which lively impression of my senses, which obI am at present, rather than venture myself literate all these chimeras. I dine, I play upon that boundless ocean which runs out into immensity. This sudden view of my danger a game of backgammon, I converse and strikes me with melancholy; and as 'tis usual am merry with my friends; and when, for that passion, above all others, to indulge after three or four hours' amusement I itself, I cannot forbear feeding my despair with would return to these speculations, they' all those desponding reflections, which the pre-appear so cold, and strained, and ridicusent subject furnishes me with in such abun-lous, that I cannot find in my heart to dance. I am first affrighted and confounded enter into them any further." with that forlorn solitude in which I am placed in my philosophy, and fancy myself some Experience is a principle which makes us strange uncouth monster, who, not being able reason from causes and effects; and 'tis the to mingle and unite in society, has been ex- same principle which convinces us of the conpelled all human commerce, and left utterly tinued existence of external objects, when ababandoned and disconsolate. Fain would I sent from the senses. But though these two run into the crowd for shelter and warmth; operations be equally natural and necessary but cannot prevail with myself to mix with in the human mind, yet in some circumstances such deformity. I call upon others to join me, they are directly contrary; nor is it possible for in order to make a company apart; but no one us to reason justly and regularly from causes will hearken to me. Every one keeps at a dis- and effects, and at the same time believe tance, and dreads that storm which beats upon the continued existence of matter. How then me from every side. I have exposed myself to shall we adjust those principles together? the enmity of all metaphysicians, logicians, Which of them shall we prefer? Or in case mathematicians, and even theologians; and we prefer neither of them, but successively ascan I wonder at the insults I must suffer? I sent to both, as is usual among philosophers, have declared my disapprobation of their sys- with what confidence can we afterwards usurp tems; and can I be surprised if they should ex- that glorious title, when we thus knowingly press a hatred of mine, and of my person? embrace a manifest contradiction? This conWhen I look abroad, I foresee on every side, tradiction would be more excusable were it dispute, contradiction, anger, calumny, and de- compensated by any degree of solidity and traction. When I turn my eye inward, I find satisfaction in the other parts of our reasoning. nothing but doubt and ignorance. All the But the case is quite contrary. When we world conspires to oppose and contradict me; trace up the human understanding to its first though such is my weakness, that I feel all my principles, we find it to lead us into such senopinions loosen and fall of themselves, when timents as seem to turn into ridicule all our unsupported by the approbation of others. Ev-past pains and industry, and to discourage us ery step I take is with hesitation; and every new reflection makes me dread an error and absurdity in my reasoning. For, with what confidence can I venture upon such bold enterprises, when, beside those numberless infirmities peculiar to myself, I find so many which are common to human nature? Can I be sure

from future inquiries. Nothing is more curiously inquired after by the mind of man, than the causes of every phenomenon; nor are we content with knowing the immediate causes,

* Treatise of Human Nature, book i. part 4; and Woodhouslee's Life of Kames, vol. i.

and to what condition shall I return? Whose

helpful to a moralist, though I cannot easily conceive these two characters united in the same work."-Vol. i. p. 112.

but push on our inquiries til! we arrive at the graceful or engaging, but by clothing the original and ultimate principle. We would parts again with skin and flesh, and presenting not willingly stop before we are acquainted only their bare outside, An anatomist, howwith that energy in the cause by which it op- ever, can give very good advice to a painter erates on its effect; and how must we be dis- or statuary. And, in like manner, I am perappointed, when we learn that this connec-suaded that a metaphysician may be very tion, tie, or energy lies merely in ourselves, and is nothing but that determination of the mind which is acquired by custom, and causes us to make a transition from an object to its usual attendant, and from the impression of one to the lively idea of the other? Such a Hume had expressed, in a letter to Lord discovery not only cuts off all hope of ever at- Kames, an unwillingness to return to his taining satisfaction, but even prevents our very own country, without what he called some wishes; since it appears, that when we say "settlement in life;" and it was probably we desire to know the ultimate and operating not without reluctance that after the pubprinciple, as something which resides in the lication of the Treatise on Human Nature, external object, we either contradict ourselves, he went to live with his mother and brother or talk without a meaning-The intense view of these manifold contradictions and im- for a few years in Berwickshire. He says perfections in human reason has so wrought that he there recovered the knowledge of upon and heated my brain, that I am ready Greek. Mr. Burton tells us of some unto reject all belief and reasoning, and can look successful attempts he made to be appointupon no opinion even as more probable or ed a tutor, or "governor," as it was then likely than another. Where am I, or what? called, to some young man of fortune, and From what causes do I derive my existence, he accepted a more delicate office, which favor shall I court, and whose anger must I attached him to the household of an insane dread? What beings surround me? and on nobleman. The Marquis of Annandale whom have I any influence, or who have any had been found a lunatic from the 12th of influence on me? I am confounded with all December, 1744-a few months after which these questions, and begin to fancy myself in date Hume engaged with him on the doubtthe most deplorable condition imaginable, en- ful footing of a companion, receiving for vironed with the deepest darkness, and utterly his services three hundred a year. The deprived of the use of every member and faculty."* engagement lasted but for a year, and there was a vexatious disposition to withhold part of the stipulated salary. At a later period of his life the marquis became calmer than when Hume lived with him; for it is still remembered that he used to walk about the neighborhood of Highgate with a keeper before him, and a footman behind. The latter would now and then tap him on the shoulder, and hand him his snuff box. During Hume's reign his imbecility was more active. Hume copied some of his epigrams, which he said were not inferior to Rousseau's, though the versification was but middling. The marquis also wrote a novel, of which, to gratify him, thirty copies were printed; he being led to believe that thousands were circulated. Hume thought he had got him off the publication scheme, by leading him to believe that Lord Marchmont and Lord Bolingbroke had seen the manuscript, and were against its being printed. He, poor fellow, got suspicious, and replied in a tone that startled David into compliance with an insane wish, which, were it evidence of lunaCy, would affect many now at large. "Pardie je crois que ces messieurs veulent ètre les seules Seigneurs d' Angleterre qui

We have transcribed these passages, as we think it important to show that Hume regarded his own studies as exhibiting, not human nature as it actually exists, but rather the skeleton of man's nature. In a letter to Hutcheson he expresses himself in much the same way. Hutcheson had complained of Hume's book not having any warmth in the cause of virtue," a warmth which he thought all good men would relish, and which would not displease amid abstract inquiries." Hume says

"I must own this has not happened by chance, but is the effect of a reasoning either good or bad. There are different ways of examining the mind, as well as the body. One may consider it either as an anatomist or as a painter; either to discover its most secret springs and principles, or to describe the grace and beauty of its actions. I imagine it impossible to conjoin these two views. Where you pull off the skin, and display all the minute parts, there appears something trivial, even in the noblest attitudes and most vigorous actions; nor can you ever render the object

* Human Nature, book i. part 4, sec. 7.

eussent de l'esprit, mais jè leur montrerai | davit, that when he arrested said lord he ce que le petit A- -peut faire aussi." was so mean in his apparel, as having a Mr. Burton feels that his reader is not worn-out suit of clothes and a dirty shirt unlikely to resent Hume's accepting what on, and but sixpence in his pocket, he seems to be so humble an appointment; could not suppose him to be a peer of and he presses on our consideration the pe- Great Britain, and of inadvertency arrested culiar circumstances of Scotland-now the him.' (Fortescue's Reports, 165.) This most industrious and far the best educated family was peculiarly celebrated-Lady part of the empire, and with the greatest Mordington having raised the question, means of advancing its abundant popula- whether a Scottish peeress who kept a tavtion-but in which they were at that pe-ern, was protected, by privilege of peerage, riod, to use Hume's own words, hut "two from being amenable to the laws against ranks of men-gentlemen with some for- keeping disorderly houses." Mr. Burton tune and education, and the meanest starv- does not state what we learn from the notes ing poor." We own that we do not quite to the " Excursion," that the trade of a travagree with our author in regarding the of elling merchant-by Southerns often called fice, under the circumstances in which it a pedlar-was a favorite occupation in such was accepted, altogether so humbling as circumstances. "A young man going from he seems to think. The invitation which any part of Scotland to England, of purhe accepted proceeded from Lord Annan- pose to carry the pack, was considered as dale himself, and was suggested by his ad-going to lead the life and acquire the formiration of Hume's essays. Hume's early tune of a gentleman.* When, after twenletters show that there was the strongest ty years' absence in that honorable employand apparently the best-founded expecta- ment, he returned with his acquisitions to tions of his recovery. The office was one his native country, he was regarded as a which the conduct of Lord Annandale's gentleman to all intents and purposes."+ agent, whom Hume thought dishonest, and This, to say the truth, is the mode of life who feared the effect of such a mind as we should have ourselves liked best of all Hume's on Lord Annandale's, rendered in- that seemed to be then open to a young tolerable; but this was scarcely to be an- man in Hume's circumstances; but for ticipated. In fact it was the most respect this, David was already getting too fat, able channel of subsistence open to a man whose habits were not active. "The only form in which a man poor and well-born could retain the rank of a gentleman, if he did not obtain one of the learned professions, was by obtaining a commission in the army, or a government civil appointment." David lived to have both, but probably would have had neither had he not added to his little fortune by such means as at this period offered.

Mr. Burton gives some amusing accounts of the difficulty which a gentleman then found to make out the means of life at all in Scotland. In Erskine's Institute of the Law of Scotland, a government situation is regarded as the sole way of advancing a young man of respectable connections. It is said there that it is "his guardian's duty to advance a yearly sum far beyond the interest of his patrimony, that he may appear suitably to his quality, while he is unprovided of any office under government by which he can live decently."

"Goldsmith," says Mr. Burton, "found a Scotch peer keeping a glove shop; and in the case of Lord Mordington, who had been arrested for debt, the bailiff made affi

ther than this. In King James's amusing song of
*The notion of a gentle trade went even far
the Gaberlunzie Man, the young girl who left her
home with the gaberlunzie man says:-
"O kenned my minnie I were with you,
Ill-faredly would she crook her mou',
Sic a poor man she'd never trow,

After the gaberlunzie-man.
My dear, quoth he, ye're yet o'er young,
And ha'e no learned the beggar's tongue,
So follow me frae town to town,

To carry the gaberlunzie on.

"Wi' eauk and keel I'll win your bread,
And spindles and whorles for them wha need,
Which is a gentle trade indeed,

To carry the gaberlunzie on.
I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout o'er ny e'e;
A cripple or blind they will call me,

While we shall be merry and sing."

The gaberlunzie-a word of uncertain derivacarried the implements of his trade, and "whattion-is the bag in which the travelling tinker ever he could lift." We transcribe these stanzas from Cunningham's Burns. The copy of the song in Percy's Reliques, is in a dialect slightly different. See a passage from Scott, quoted in the DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE, Vol. XVIII.,

November, 1841-Article on Burns.

Heron's Journey in Scotland, quoted by Wordsworth.

and we think he chose wisely in preferring city. His wearing a uniform added greatly to what we hope was to be called the place of his natural awkwardness, for he wore it like a private secretary; for if so, it would sug-lieutenant-general, and was sent to the courts grocer of the trained bands. St. Clair was a gest a much pleasanter account of some of Vienna and Turin, as a military envoy, to execrable verses found in David's handwri- see that their quota of troops was furnished ting, than that which Mr. Burton gives, by the Austrians and Piedimontese. It was, who supposes them to be the philosopher's therefore, thought necessary that his secretaown handiwork. Seventy-five pounds of ry should appear to be an officer, and Hume Hume's salary remained unpaid. On this was accordingly disguised in scarlet."-Harsubject some unmeaning sentimentality dy's Charlemont, vol. i. p. 15. had been uttered, as if Hume, in deter- The result of Hume's campaign with mining to enforce it at law, was acting Sir John Sinclair was, that after two years shabbily. This is worse than nonsense. he found himself possessed of a fortune, Hume's chief, if not only object, in this" which," says he, "I called independent, sacrifice of his time and comforts, is the though most of my friends were inclined to salary promised; and is he to make a pres- smile when I said so; in short, I was now ent of it, or any part of it, to the estate of master of near a thousand pounds." an insane nobleman?

On his return from Italy, he re-published In the course of the next year he became, parts of his old "Treatise of Human Naat the invitation of General St. Clair, sec- ture" in some new shape. It never sucretary to his expedition, which was at first ceeded in any; and he was provoked at meant against Canada, but ended in an in- finding the theologians, who, he expected, cursion on the coast of France." "The would kick and cuff it into notice, otheroffice," says David, "is very genteel-ten wise, and probably much better employed. shillings a day, perquisites, and no ex- He went down to live in the country with penses." Hume was not only secretary to his brother, and then composed one or two the general, but acted as judge-advocate. more essays, which had more success. "I In the course of the same year he returned found," he says, "by Warburton's railing, to Ninewells, to remain but for a short that the books were beginning to be estime, as he was again invited by the gene- teemed in good company. However, I had ral to attend him as secretary in his mili- a fixed resolution, which I inflexibly maintary embassy to Vienna and Turin. David tained, never to reply to any body." Quite now wore the uniform of an officer, and right, David; if an opponent says any thing was introduced at court as aid-de-camp to unanswerable, always let him have his own the general. At Turin the late Lord Char-way. That same Dr. Warburton, the atlemont became acquainted with him, and torney bishop, is likely to have a good from Hardy's Memoir of Charlemont's Life, we transcribe a sentence :

"Nature, I believe, never formed any man more unlike his real character than David Hume. The powers of physiognomy were baffled by his countenance; neither could the most skillful in that science pretend to discover the smallest trace of the faculties of his mind in the unmeaning features of his visage. His face was broad and fat, his mouth wide, and without any other expression than that of imbecility. His eyes, vacant and spiritless, and the corpulence of his whole person was far

deal the best of it, as there is no one quality of mind in which he is not very much your superior. An unlucky squeeze of his hard hand might crush that poor Human Nature of yours out of existence.

In 1751, Hume went to live in Edinburgh. In 1752, he published at Edinburgh his Political Discourses; and in the same year at London, his " Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals,"" which," he says, " in my opinion, (who ought not to judge on that subject,) is, of all my writings, historical, philosophical, or literary, incomparably the best. It came unmarked and undiscovered into the world."

better fitted to communicate the idea of a turtle-eating alderman, than of a refined philosopher. His speech, in English, was rendered ridiculous by the broadest Scotch accent, and In that year he became "Keeper of the his French was, if possible, still more laugha- Advocates' Library, Edinburgh"-an office ble; so that wisdom, most certainly, never of which the emolument was but forty disguised herself before in so uncouth a garb. pounds a year, but which gave him a great Though now near fifty years old [Hume was but thirty-seven,] he was healthy and strong; command of books. Some disputes with but his health and strength, far from being ad- the curators of the library, as to the purvantageous to his figure, instead of manly chase of books, made him think of resigncomeliness, had only the appearance of rusti-ing the office. However, the convenience