Classic Audiobook Collection - David Hume and his Influence on Philosophy and Theology by James Orr ~ Full Audiobook [philosophy]

Episode Date: July 26, 2023

David Hume and his Influence on Philosophy and Theology by James Orr audiobook. Genre: philosophy David Hume justly takes rank as the most distinguished member of that brilliant circle of literary men whose names gave such a lustre to the second half of the eighteenth century in Scotland. His speculations were the most profound, and, with the possible exception of Adam Smith in a particular department, his influence was the widest and most deeply felt, of any. But even his warmest friends could scarcely have predicted the influence he was destined to exercise, or the important results that were to spring from his thoughts. It required time to clear away the mists that had gathered round his name, and to place him in his true light in the eyes of posterity. At a century and a half’s distance, we are in a better position to take an impartial survey of his work and its effects. The result must be, that, however we may judge of Hume in particular respects, we cannot deny to him a right to the title of a great and independent thinker. It is indicated in the text that the point of view from which Hume’s philosophy is mainly regarded is that of an experiment to explain knowledge, and generally the intellectual and moral outfit of man, without the assumption of a rational nature in man. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:19:21) Chapter 02 (00:57:31) Chapter 03 (01:37:05) Chapter 04 (02:32:29) Chapter 05 (03:02:45) Chapter 06 (03:29:52) Chapter 07 (04:16:43) Chapter 08 (04:52:27) Chapter 09 (05:45:11) Chapter 10 (06:33:18) Chapter 11 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr. Introductory. David Hume justly takes rank as the most distinguished member of that brilliant circle of literary men whose names gave such a luster to the second half of the 18th century in Scotland. His speculations were the most profound, and with the possible exception of Adam Smith in a particular department, his influence was the widest and most deeply felt of any. Hume's contemporaries could hardly be expected to do him justice.

His daring subtleties and avowed skepticism excited so many prejudices and exposed him to so much dislike that only a few were able and prepared to recognize his substantial merits. But even his warmest friends could scarcely have predicted the influence he was destined to exercise or the important results that were to spring from his thoughts. It required time to clear away the mists that had gathered round his name, and to place him in his true light in the eyes of posterity. At a century and a half's distance, we are in a better position to take an impartial survey of his work and its effects.

The result must be that, however we may judge of Hume in particular respects, we cannot deny to him a right to the title of a great and independent thinker. It will be recognised that he arose at the proper time to accomplish a necessary task. He excited thought, he awoke men from their dogmatic slumbers. He gave an impulse to fresh speculation on the most important questions. By exploding old systems he prepared the way for new. A study of such a man and his work can only be for our advantage. It is the purpose of this volume after sketching his career

to describe the character and endeavour to appraise the value of the services he has directly or indirectly performed in the different directions of his influence. It is not necessary at this preliminary stage to say much of Hume himself, though the man and his philosophy are in good measure of a piece, and must always be studied together. Hume's character, happily, is not one which it is difficult to sum up. Of easy, passionless disposition, good-tempered and kindly of heart, with little interest in outward nature, but much in the springs of human thought and action, with barely a spark of ideality in his composition, and, as one is compelled to judge, almost wholly without experience of the religious sentiment, he had yet, within the limits which such a nature imposes, a keen, subtle, and observant mind

in the various branches of speculative inquiry, and a firm and settled purpose to work out for himself a reputation as an original discoverer in philosophy and morals. It is not unfair to speak, as is here done, of religion as an element almost entirely lacking in Hume's nature. We can at least find no unambiguous trace of it in anything he ever said or did or wrote. He seems to have early convinced himself that the bases of the ordinary religious beliefs, even those of the current deism, were vanity, and that the philosopher would spend his time better in skeptically explaining

or explaining away those beliefs than in allowing them any influence over his own conduct. He has himself told us that, his ruling passion was love of literary fame, but combined with this he had a stubborn independence of nature, a praiseworthy desire to excel in what was best, and a courage and perseverance that bore him easily through rebuffs and difficulties. He never lost his faith that whatever the immediate judgment might be upon his work, his reputation was safe with posterity, and in this particular at least his confidence has been justified. His place in the world of thought and letters is assured beyond all possibility of altering it.

The influences which moulded the mind of Hume were partly Scotch, partly English and in considerable measure French. With respect to Scotland, it must be acknowledged that Hume did far more to arouse the reflective spirit and encourage the literary taste of his countrymen than they ever did to develop his. Till Francis Hutchison, an Irishman, began by his lectures in Glasgow to attract attention to Scotland as a seat for the higher learning. Our country had but a poor reputation in that regard. Her literature was scanty, her scholarship, except in theology, associated mainly with one illustrious name, that of Buchanan. The reaction which, after the middle of the century, raised Edinburgh to a pinnacle of distinction in letters, was yet in its infancy when Hume began to write.

Nevertheless, his admiration for Hutchison, and the close intimacy which he afterwards maintained with most of the literary characters of the metropolis must have exercised not a little influence on his later style. To England, his debt was greater, though his rooted dislike of the English people prevented him from ever fully acknowledging it. His own strong ambition, from the first, was to gain distinction as an elegant writer of the English language, and this naturally led him to the study of the best models. A large share of his attention in republishing his works was always given to weeding out any lingering Scottishisms from their pages. His own estimate of the state of literature in England was far from high.

Quote, the first polite prose we have, he tells us in one of his essays, was writ by a man who is still alive, and quote, Dean Swift. Philosophy, except in the Department of Ethics, was, in his judgment, at an even lower ebb. Men's minds had sunk to sleep under the influence of Locke. Vigorous original thinking in regard to fundamental questions there was practically none. The essay form in literature, which had risen into prominence, represented an attempt to unite thoughtful and instructive reading, with the charm of a free and popular style.

In this way, it diffused important moral lessons and helped to elevate the public taste. Such compositions, especially after the failure of his first great work to attract attention, Hume seems to have looked on as models of an easy and humane philom. and to have kept them before him in the preparation of his books. But his deepest impressions were probably those which he derived from France. It was there that he composed his treatise of human nature, and during his whole life his relations with France and with French authors were very intimate. The easy, pleasure-loving temper of that light-hearted people

appears always to have possessed a singular fascination for his mind. He eulogizes them repeatedly as models of what, quote, sensible, polite, and knowing, end quote, people ought to be. He caught the tone of their principal writers. He adopted many of their views of life. He made at the aim of his philosophy to justify their views by reasoning away every notion which could give life a higher meaning. He lowered his moral standard to a level almost exactly suited to their practice. The contrast of French life and manners to the narrow intolerant spirit he found prevailing in certain circles in his own country, though all earnestness was apt to be harshly judged by him,

may have helped to create a deeper sympathy in his mind with the former. One feature in Hume's character requiring to be kept in view in all estimates of his work and aims is that already mentioned, his prevailing ambition to excel in literature. It was, he does not conceal, his, quote, ruling passion, end quote, to take a permanent and brilliant place in the world of polite letters. It is no disparagement of Hume to say that this predominant literary ambition was not favourable to the highest development of his powers as a thinker. There is a limit, beyond which a man cannot go in philosophy without being content to sacrifice many of the graces of composition, which are essential to purely literary success. Obstruse thinking will never bring in large returns of immediate popularity.

To think or write like an Aristotle, a cunt, or a hegel, is certainly not the road to literary fame such as Hume was in search of, and Hume was latterly at least perfectly aware of this. He contrasts the, quote, easy and obvious philosophy, end quote, of popular writers with, quote, the abstruse philosophy, end quote, of deeper thinkers, which had also been his own earlier and nobler ideal, and remarks, quote, it is certain that the easy and obvious philosophy will always, with the generality of mankind, have the preference over the accurate and This also must be confessed that the most durable as well as the justest fame has been acquired

by the easy philosophy. The fame of Cicero flourishes at present, but that of Aristotle is utterly decayed, end quote. In these circumstances as a man bent on, quote, the most durable as well as justest fame, end quote, Hume has scarcely an alternative. He must either resign altogether the pursuit of the abstrusive philosophy, or at least so modify and popularize it, and that it will not debar him from taking his place among the easy writers. This, in fact, is what he proposes to attempt. The difficulty, he says, may perhaps be surmounted by care and art, happy if we can unite the boundaries of the different species of philosophy

by reconciling profound inquiry with clearness and truth with novelty, end quote. It is easy to see that a thinker with such aims is committed to a style of writing in which more durable qualities are apt to be sacrificed to a desire to please. It is a significant commentary on Hume's judgment that it is the unfortunate treatise, which he was feigned to disavow because of its abstruseness, on which his fame as a philosopher now securely rests, while the more polished version of his principles in the inquiry is relegated to a quite secondary place.

The purely literary merit of Hume's writings is nevertheless very great. He bestowed the utmost pain. on the acquirement of an easy, fascinating style, and once it was acquired he lost no opportunity of polishing and perfecting it. His success in this latter endeavour may be almost regarded as complete. His style combines a greater number of those excellences of diction and smooth arrangement for the study of which the 18th century was distinguished beyond most periods of our literature. It wants the pomp and strut of the style of Gibbon, it is less artificial than Robertson's. It unites the ease and grace of Addison with a peculiar clearness derived from his French favorites.

It was a style admirably suited to the acute and flexible mind of the man who used it. It served him to equal purpose in the literary essay, in the subtle analysis of mental phenomena, in the close train of metaphysical reasoning, in the connected exposition of historical events and sequences. If it has any special fault it may be said to lie in a certain lack of concentration, and vigour, and in the absence of anything resembling passion. This is perhaps scarcely a defect in treating of subjects of a purely speculative nature, where the Lumen Sikum is a condition of success, but it is different in the study of history and of religion,

where sympathy and power of appreciating spiritual forces are indispensable qualifications. Still, as a master of correct and pleasing composition, Hume will always hold an honorable place among the great writers of our land, language. Dugold Stewart traces much of the elegance observable in the style of some of Hume's opponents to the careful and minute study which their desire to refute his views cause them to bestow upon his works, and there can be no question that his influence in this respect has been both great and beneficial. Of the contemporaries of Hume, the two who stand next to him in the measure of their importance are undoubtedly Adam Smith and Thomas Reed. The one is the acknowledged

founder of political economy as a distinct branch of knowledge. The other is the recognized head of the Scottish school in philosophy. But even as regards these distinguished men, a preeminence must be assigned to Hume, for, apart from his influence, probably neither of the two would have written as he did. To Hume, as we shall find, more than to any living man, Adam Smith was indebted for the leading ideas of his principal work, and from Hume as best understanding the completeness and value of the exposition, the wealth of nations received its first emphatic welcome. Many suggestions of Smith's peculiar moral theories are scattered up and down the works of Hume. With regard to read, it is only necessary to refer to his own express

acknowledgement that it was Hume's skeptical conclusions, which first of all startled him into independent inquiry. Quote, I acknowledge, he says, that I never thought of calling in question the principles commonly received with regard to the human understanding until the treatise of human nature was published in the year 1739. The ingenious author of that treatise upon the principles of Locke, who was no sceptic, hath built a system of skepticism which leaves no ground to believe any one thing rather than its contrary. His reasoning appeared to me to be just. There was, therefore, a necessity to call in question the principles on which it was founded, or to admit the conclusion." In Germany, the philosopher Kand, in a well-known passage, makes a similar

acknowledgement so that the two principal philosophical movements of the last century, that of Scotland, which passed likewise into France, and that of Germany which took its origin in Kand, were due directly to the influence of Hume. If it be argued that these movements represent rather a recoil from Hume's skepticism than any proper development of his ideas, it may be replied that only a thinker of the first rank, could have called forth such a reaction. But it would be a mistake to look merely to this and to disregard the intrinsic merit of many of Hume's speculations.

The literature of simple antagonism, so plentifully produced in Hume's own day, was little worth and is now almost forgotten. But more thoughtful writers found in his works not only doubts, but germs of higher thoughts and even germs in the doubts themselves. It is doubtful if Cund, was acquainted with the treatise, If he had been, he must have found Hume's speculations on space, time, externality, mathematical certainty, nearly as fruitful in hints as his discussion on causation.

In our own country, it would be difficult to estimate how much of our later philosophy, apart from the line of read, is due directly or indirectly to Hume's influence. One important school, at least, the associationist, must be traced to him in direct lineage, but echoes of Hume, vibrations of his thinking, are perceptible in all the empirical philosophies since his day, and never more distinctly than in our own time. That which gave Hume his special value for subsequent speculation was above all the thoroughness with which he did his work. Hume is commonly and justly described as a skeptic, but the word in his case needs explanation. It will be seen when we come to deal with that topic that Hume was not

a skeptic in the sense that he had not a very deep and serious interest in the philosophical questions he discussed or was not really persuaded that his results on their negative side at least, and in many positive respects as well, were not established beyond all reasonable cavil. But the peculiarity of Hume's thinking was that in destroying the beliefs of other people, he could not avoid undermining the authority of reason itself. Reason and natural belief are left by him in irreconcilable opposition, but more than that reason gives such an account of its own origin as effectively to destroy its claim to be trusted in any conclusions at which it arrives. But it was precisely through this rigour of his sceptical procedure that Hume was able to do the service he did to philosophy. Starting from principles which at the time he wrote were received without question on nearly all hands,

he carried these out to their results in such a way as to show that either the principles must be renounced, or the conclusions to which they lead must be accepted. Discarding all rational elements in knowledge, it had to show in a positive respect how the ideas which men have, even those which are believed to have a higher origin, can be explained by the simple operation of association and custom, and it may be affirmed with confidence that

if Hume has failed in this task, no other is likely to succeed. The importance of Hume's philosophy may therefore be said to lie in the fact that it is really an experimentum cruis as to the possibility of constructing a theory of knowledge which admits no rational or ideal elements but works solely with empirical factors like association. Criticism of Hume, on the other hand, resolves itself at every point into the one contention that this endeavour is futile. Hume is a clever writer, but the cleverest writer cannot do impossibilities, and Hume could not write a sentence or paragraph without implicitly overthrowing the

system he was advocating. Effecting to ignore the rational nature of man and seeking to get along without it, he is yet compelled continually to presuppose its existence and avail himself of its help in his reasonings and language. Proof of this in regard to Hume is really proof of it in regard to empirical philosophy generally, for theorizing which proceeds on empirical lines can do little more than reproduce Hume's arguments and imitate his methods, while perhaps shutting its eyes to the full bearings and issues of the principles involved, as Hume made them apparent. When even so good a psychologist as Professor

William James is found commencing with a sensation which, even as we look at it, becomes transformed into an object, and ere long is part of a world of such objects, which by and by are themselves posited as the causes of the sensations we began with, when such a writer can satisfy himself with cognitive sensations and the treatment of self as a, quote, stream of mental states, end quote, and conclude that, quote, the states of consciousness are all that psychology needs to do her work with, end quote, and that, quote, metaphysics or theology may prove the soul to exist, but for psychology, the hypothesis of such a substantial principle of unity is superfluous, end quote, it may be felt how far hume is from being obsolete, and how imperative is the need of recurrence to his drastic,

but at least consistent logic. In view of Professor James's speculations, not to speak of Mr. Spencer's, quote, vivid and faint states, end quote, of consciousness and Mr. Bain's alchemy of association, Hume may be welcomed as a valuable ally in arguing for a more rational theory. End of Chapter 1.

Chapter 2 of David Hume and its influence on philosophy and theology. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recording. are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librovox.org. Read by Ali Rose David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology

by James Orr. Chapter 2, Life of Hume 1, till the publication of the treatise. The future philosopher was born on 26 April 1711, Old Style, quote, within the Tron Parish, end quote, of Edinburgh, where his parents must at the time have been residing. His father, Joseph Hume, or Home, was a border-led of modest means, but of a good family, claiming descent from Lord Home of Denglass, who crossed into France with the Douglas in the French walls of the 15th century, and lost his life properly at Verneux, 1423 to 4. His mother, who her son says, was, quote, a woman of singular merit, end quote, and for whom he always entertained the warmest affection, was a daughter of Sir David Falconer, president of the court session.

The paternal estate was Nine Wells, on the northern bank of the Whiteadder, in the parish of Churnside in Berwickshire. The old plain mansion of which a picture is preserved in the Chamber's Book of Days was situated on an eleventh place. elevation overlooking the river as it flowed to join the tweed, and from the declivity in front issued a number of springs which gave the place its name. Living was plain and tastes were simple, but the Scottish gentry at the time embraced many men of exceptional intelligence and culture, and the library which David found at Ninewells, showed that his father must have belonged to that cultural class. Joseph Hume died while David was yet an infant, and he with an elder brother and sister were left to the care of their mother, who, though still, quote, young and handsome, end quote, devoted herself entirely to their upbringing.

As the younger son of the family, his patrimony was, necessarily as he tells us, quote, very slender, end quote. No details are preserved to us of David's sayings or doings in childhood or youth. The one stray reminiscence that floats down is a reputed saying of his mothers. Quote, are Davies a fine, good-natured crater, but uncommon wake-minded, end quote. Speculation has naturally been rife as to the meaning of this enigmatical utterance. The riddle is not perhaps, after all, very difficult to read. The, quote, good nature, and quote, of Hume was proverbial, though his biographer does well to remind us that he, quote, was,

far from being that docile mass of impudability, which so larger portion of the world have taken him for, end quote. And with regard to the less complementary part, it may be assumed, from what is known of Hume in afterlife, that he had abstracted ways, and would not readily impress himself on the observer in boyhood as of quick and observant. His forte was at no time the outward and practical. His reflections, besides from an early period, were not such as he would be disposed to communicate to others, or as others would easily apprehend. A youthful metaphysician, who before 18 had his doubts of the reality of an external world, and was pondering whether, as Barry humorously puts it in Edinburgh 11, he himself existed, quote, strictly so called, end quote,

might appear, quote, weak, end quote, enough to average, active-minded people about him. So Hume would keep his thoughts to himself and content himself with turning on company that good-natured but somewhat vacant expression, which in manhood was noted as a feature of his appearance. As to exterior, we happen to know from his own pen that till the age of 20, he had not the plump ruddy, healthful look of maturity, but was a, quote, tall, lean, raw-boned lad, end quote. A silence almost as complete as that which rests on his early days attaches to Hume's school life and to the period of his university attendance.

It is known that he matriculated as an entrant in the class of Greek in Edinburgh University in 1723 at the age of 12, but no other trace of his curriculum remains. We have it from himself that he, quote, passed through the ordinary course of education with success, end quote. And as he elsewhere indicates that, quote, our college education in Scotland, extending little further than the languages ends commonly when we are about 14 or 15 years of age, end quote,

it may be presumed that this was the term of his attendance. Thereafter, he returned home, and it is the six or seven years that followed of his residence at Ninewells, diversified by occasional visits to the city, that we begin to see something directly of the workings of his mind and of the character of his ambitions. It is still, however, only the growth of a mind we have to study, for then, as throughout life, the merely external interested Hume Little. All his biographers have a booker. He observed how, living in a region of much natural beauty and rich in romantic associations, he seems to have looked on its scenes without emotion, and hardly allows a trace of its existence,

much less of any impulse or impression received from it, to stray into his pages. Nature, indeed, in a way, he did appreciate. In one of his early letters he speaks of the pleasure he found in, quote, An echelog of Georgic of Virgil, end quote. But it is nature at second hand, nature as seen through the eyes and reflected in the descriptions of the poets that interested him. Not as stamping fresh impressions on his own soul, nature as a Virgil or a Pope portrayed it,

not as a Wordsworth would have felt it. Even then, he values Virgil less for the images he presents to his imagination than for the reflections he excites in his mind. There is the same lack of interest in music, painting and architecture. For none of the plastic arts does he allow the slightest original appreciation, and even in awarding the palm of merit in the higher kinds of poetry, his judgments are often ludicrously astray. One quality he does display is the instinct derived from long and close study of the operators,

for polished and flowing composition in prose. The more remarkable on account of this indifference to the outward is the intensity and individuality of the reflective life which Hume had already begun to develop. The law had been fixed on as the profession most suitable for one of his industry and sobriety of mind, but his own tastes did not in that least incline him to legal pursuits. quote, while they fancied, end quote, he says.

Quote, I was pouring upon Boet and Vinius, Cicero and Virgil, where the authors I was secretly devouring, end quote. This taste did not arise from any inherent incapacity for legal studies, but because his ambition had already, from about his 18th year, taken other, and very definite directions. Quote, I was early seized, end quote, quote, he tells us, in a passage formerly alluded to, quote, with a passion for literature, which has been the ruling passion of my life,

and the great source of my enjoyments, end quote. But with this attachment to literature, was combined a habit of philosophical reflection, which opened to him visions of conquest and distinction in the region of abstract thought. Three proofs remain to us of the singular, development his mind was going through at this period. Each fitted to awaken astonishment at the precocity, independence and maturity of judgment of a youth yet in his teens. The fact that none of the three was intended for the public eye gives them more value as mirrors of the state of his thoughts. The first of these evidences is a letter written to a friend, Michael Ramsey,

of whom little is known save that he was Hume's lifelong correspondent. It is dated 7th July 1727 when Hume was yet scarcely more than 16. It is, however, already composed with deliberation and sententiousness and pictures the writer as, quote, entirely confined, end quote, to himself and to the library at Nine Wells for his, quote, diversion, end quote. He varies his reading, quote, sometimes a philosophy, and quote, and apparently finds his favourites in the Latin authors, as Cicero, Virgil and Lunginius. From the two former he derives the ideal of a life independent of fortune, which pretty

much remained with him to the end. Quote, the philosopher's wise man and the poet's husband man, end quote, he says, quote, agree in peace of mind in a liberty and independency on fortune. and a contempt for riches, power and glory. Everything is placid and quiet in both, nothing, perturbed or disordered, end quote. He is well content with his present mode of existence, quote, I live like a king, pretty much by myself, neither full of action nor perpitation, Molls somnos, end quote, and only fears his happiness may not continue. The panacea against the blows of fortune is to be sought in philosophy, and here we touch on the quick of his thought.

Quote, this greatness and elevation of soul, end quote, he says, quote, is to be found only in study and contemplation. This alone can teach us to look down on human accidents. You must allow me to talk this, like a philosopher. tis a subject I think much on, and could talk all day long of, end quote. There is another still more characteristic passage on the nature of his studies, which deserves special attention. Quote, would you have me send in my loose incorrect thoughts? Were such worth the transcribing?

All the progress I have made is but drawing the outlines on loose bits of paper. Here a hint of a passion, there a phenomenon in the mind accounted for. In another the alteration of these accounts, sometimes a remark upon an author I have been reading, and none of them worth to anybody, and I believe scarcely to myself." End quote. In these, quote, hints, end quote, of a passion and, quote, accountings, end quote, for phenomena in the mind of this singular six year old philosopher, it is not too much to say that we have the first germs of the future treatise. Next to be referred to is an, quote, historical essay on chivalry and modern honour, end quote, which, if it really belongs, as Mr Burton thinks, to this youthful period, is a remarkable

early anticipation of Hume's later essay style and a striking evidence of the power he had already attained of looking at historical subjects from an independent point of view. It excellently illustrates his method of seeking an explanation of historical phenomena by tracing them to general principles in human nature, but is not less typical of his habit of finding his means of explanation in principles the least rational and commendable. As at a later stage we find him accounting for the growth of monotheism out of polytheism through the tendency to vulgar flattery. So in this initial attempt, he finds the key to chivalry, quote, that monster of romantic chivalry or knight-errantry, end quote, as he calls it,

in a propensity of the mind, quote, when smit with any idea of merit or perfection beyond that which faculties can attain, end quote, to create an imaginary world in which it pleases itself with the fancy of an excellence which does not exist. In the course of the essay, he contrasts Greek with Gothic architecture. The former, plain, simple and regular, but with all majestic and beautiful, end quote. The latter, a heap of confusion and irregularity, end quote, an evidence of. of, quote, what kind of monstrous birth this of chivalry must prove, end a quote. Of much greater importance, as a clue to Hume's youthful feelings and aims, is the third

paper, a sketch of his mental history contained in a letter to a London physician, believed to be Dr. George Chain, whom he desired to consult in a crisis of his health. It is doubtful if this mysterious epistle found neatly. written out amongst his papers was ever really sent. In belongs in any case to the year 1734. Hume was now 23 years of age, but the letter goes back on his whole life and gives a sort of confidential account of his mental development from the beginning. First, he recounts the joy he had felt after his abandonment of law at the thought of pushing his fortune in the world as a scholar and philosopher. This lasted

till about September 1729 when a sudden chill fell upon his spirits. Quote, all my ardour, end quote, he says, quote, seemed in a moment to be extinguished, and I could no longer raise my mind to that pitch, which formerly gave me such excessive pleasure, end quote. His recluse life and intense application to study had, it is evident, affected both mind and body, And though by the use of remedies and exercise, his strength was gradually restored,

so that, as he tells us from being, quote, tall and lean, end quote, he suddenly blossomed out into, quote, the most sturdy, robust, healthful-like fellow you have seen, end quote. The inability for sustained and severe mental work remained. This sense of frustrated effort, he describes as, quote, such a miserable disappointment I scarce ever remember to have heard of, end quote. Here, end quote, he characteristically declares, quote, lay my greatest calamity, I had no hope of delivering my opinions with such elegance and neatness

as to draw on me the attention of the world, and I would rather live and die in obscurity than produce them maimed and imperfect. effect." He asked the advice of the physician and intimates his intention of entering the employment of a merchant in Bristol, of which more anon. What further relates to Hume's health may be left aside to look at the remarkable revelations the letter gives of his mental occupations and plans. These are of a nature to dispel any idea of frivolity that might be suggested by his skepticism and to deepen the impression of sincerity and purpose in his thought and life. Here is how he describes what may be called his mental awakening. Quote, I was after that, returned from college, left to my own choice in my reading,

and found it, incline me most equally to books of reasoning and philosophy, and to poetry and the polite authors. Everyone who is acquainted either with the philosophers or critics knows that there is nothing yet established in either of these two sciences, and that they contain little more than endless disputes, even in the most fundamental articles. Upon examination of these, I found a certain boldness of temper growing in me, which was not inclined to submit to any authority in these subjects. but led me to seek out some new medium by which truth might be established. After much study and reflection on this at last, when I was about 18 years of age, there seemed to be opened up to me a new scene of thought, which transported me beyond measure and made me, with an ardour natural to young men,

throw up every other pleasure or business to apply entirely to it, end quote. then ensued the collapse above referred to in connection with which we have other interesting glimpses of the kind of thoughts that occupied him. The principal passage, however, is the following, which may be said to furnish the programme of his whole life work in philosophy. Quote, having now time and leisure to cool my inflamed imagination, I began to consider seriously how I should proceed in my philosophical inquiries. I found that the moral philosophy transmitted to us by antiquity laboured under the same inconvenience that had been found in their natural philosophy, of being entirely hypothetical and demanding more on invention than experience.

Everyone consulted his fancy in erecting schemes of virtue and happiness without regarding human nature upon which every moral conclusion must depend. This, therefore, I resolved to make my principal study, and the source from which I would derive every truth in criticism as well as morality. I believe it is a certain fact that most of the philosophers who have gone before us have been overthrown by the greatness of their genius, and that little more is required to make a man succeed in the study than to throw off all prejudice either for his own opinions or for those of others. At least this is all I have to depend on for the truth of my reasonings, which I have multiplied to such a degree that within these

three years I have scribbled many a choir of paper, in which there is nothing contained but my own inventions. This, with the reading most of these celebrated books in Latin, French and English, and acquiring the Italian, you may think a sufficient business for one in perfect health, and so it would had it been done to any purpose, but my disease was a cruel encumbrance to me." These paragraphs enable us to appreciate the truth of Mr. Burton's judgment on Hume. He was an economist of all his talents from early youth. No memoir of a literary man presents a morgue.

cautious and vigilant husbandry of the mental powers and acquirements." And to understand a later sentence of the same writer with reference to essays moral and political, quote, it is into the Stoic that the writer has thrown most of his heart and sympathy, and it is in that sketch that, though probably without intention, some of the features of his own character are portrayed. One outcome of Hume's anxieties on the state of his health was the conviction that his, quote, distemper, end quote, was partially due to his sedentary mode of life, and that it would be to his advantage to lay aside his studies for a time and try the effect of a more active career. The difficulty he felt in carrying out his schemes with his, quote, very slender income, end quote, fortified his resolve. he had, as he informs the physician, obtained a recommendation to, quote, a very considerable trader, end quote, in Bristol.

And he now entered the employment of this gentleman, and continued for some time in his service. It was by no means unusual in that age for younger sons of good families to eke out their scanty means of livelihood in trade, but in Hume's case the experiment was eminently unsuccessful. The merchant, like Hume's mother, not improbably, thought his new assistant, quote, uncommon wake-minded, end quote, in the duties of his office, and it is not surprising that Hume himself, his head more occupied with the genesis of ideas than with the prices and qualities of goods, after a short trial, threw up his situation, and resolved that, come what might, he would confine himself to the line of occupation for which nature had more obviously fitted him.

Quote, I went over to France, end quote, he says briefly, quote, with a view of prosecuting my studies in a country retreat, and I then laid that plan of life which I have steadily and successfully pursued. I resolved to make a very rigid frugality supply my deficiency of fortune to maintain unimpaired my independence and to regard every object as contemptible except the improvement of my talents in literature." End quote. The sojourn to France, to which allusion is here made, was a very eventful period in Hume's life. It was during his three years' residence, in that country, from 1734 to 1737, that the treatise of human nature was composed. After a brief

in Paris. He spent some months in the ancient town of Riem, then took up his abode for two years at La Flesche, where was the Jesuits College, at which a century and a quarter earlier, the philosopher Descartes had been educated. In these retreats, Hume passed his days, quote, very agreeably, end quote, but as one gathers from a letter to his friend Ramsey, filled with acute remarks on the contrast of French and English manners. Also very observantly, a feature of some interest in this French sojourn is its bearing on the future essay on miracles. When Hume passed through Paris, the city was still stirred on the subject

of the alleged miracles at the tomb of the Abbe de Paris, which two years before, 1732, had caused great commotion and had been the subject of prolonged intervention. investigation and debate. These miracles, readers of the essay will remember, furnished Hume with not the least serviceable part of his material for his argument. Then, as he himself relates in a letter to Principal Campbell, it was while at La Flesh during a walk with a Jesuit in the cloisters of the college that the idea of the argument itself was suggested to him. quote, as my head was full, end quote, he says, quote, of the topics of my treatise of human nature,

which I was at the time composing, this argument immediately occurred to me, and I thought it very much gravelled my companion. But at last, he observed to me that it was impossible for that argument to have any solidarity, because it operated equally against the gospel as against the Catholic miracles, which observation, I thought proper to admit, was a sufficient answer, end quote. The irony of the last sentence is a trait in Hume's styles which we shall afterwards have abundant examples. It would appear that either then or soon after he had reduced his argument to shape and intended publishing it as part of the treatise. But prudential reasons, as he avows, held him back. He writes on 2 December 1737 to Henry Home, afterwards Lord Cams,

quote, I enclose some reasonings concerning miracles, which I once thought of publishing with the rest, but which I'm afraid will give too much offence, even as the world is disposed at present, end quote. On his arrival in London, it was Hume's first business to arrange for the publication of his now completed book. It was a daring step for a young man of 26 to enter the field of authorship with a work at once so novel and so difficult, but Hume was conscious of the enormous pains

he had bestowed on the elaboration of his thoughts. He knew that into this book he had put the best part of himself, the whole force and originality of his mind, and he rightly judged that by his success or failure in this attempt, his reputation as a philosopher must stand or fall. No one will now question that into the treatise, Hume has concentrated everything of real value he had to offer in metaphysics and morals,

that later works may popularise and polish but add nothing to the essential content of this earlier effort. It has already been seen how incessantly for years his thoughts had been engrossed with his great project. Now that the time had come for the realization of his expectations, the tension of his feeling was naturally very great. During the months that negotiations were proceeding with, the booksellers, he was unwearily engaged in improving the style and diction of his work. He was anxious to have the opinion of others on its merits, and was furnished by Henry Home with an introduction to Bishop Butler, whose analogy had been published the year before, but Butler, to his disappointment, was in the country. Quote, my own opinion, end quote, he declares, quote, I dare not trust to, both because it concerns myself, and because it is so variable that I know not how to fix it. Sometimes it elevates me above the clouds, at other times it depresses me with doubts and fears, so that whatever be my success I cannot be entirely disappointed, end quote.

One other confession he makes, also having reference to the introduction to Butler, which produces less favourable impression, quote, I am, end quote, he says, quote, at present castrating my work, that is cutting off its nobler parts, that is, endeavouring it shall give as little offence as possible, before which I could not pretend to put it into the doctor's hands. This is a piece of cowardice for which I blame myself, though I believe none of my friends will blame me, but I was resolved not to be an enthusiast in philosophy

while I was blaming other enthusiasms, end quote. Whether the parts thus exercised were resorted before publication, can not be confirmed, but apart from the reasonings on miracles, it may be presumed that they were. In these preliminaries, about a year passed by, and it was not until the 26th of September 1738, that a contract was finally framed between Hume and John Noon, bookseller of Cheapside, by which the latter bound himself to pay the former £50, with 12 copies of the book, for the sole right of print, and publishing the first edition, not to exceed 1,000 copies. The transaction was, as Mr. Burton says, quote,

on the whole, creditable to the discernment and liberality of Mr. Noon, end quote. When one reflects that the author was yet young and unknown, that the book was of a kind not adapted to attract the public attention, but more likely to be denounced as a farago of mental physical conceits, and that tested by the value of money in these days, £50 was a considerable sum. The bargain may be called exceedingly generous. This too was probably the opinion of the bookseller himself,

when, after the publication of the two volumes containing the first and second book of the treatise, in 1739, he discovered that, so far from arousing the interest or exciting the opposition Hume had anticipated, the work had practically no sale whatever. Hume's own succinct account of the matter is, quote,

Never literary attempt was more unfortunate than my treatise of human nature. It fell dead born from the press without reaching such distinction as even to excite a murmur among the zealots, end quote. The book was published anonymously, a circumstance which may have helped

to doom it to obscurity. The work, in reality, was before its time, the taste capable of appreciating it and living interest in the questions it discussed were, in Scotland at least, only beginning to be developed. Half a century later, it might have had a different reception. There is no doubt that, meanwhile, Hume was keenly disappointed, though the result did not shape his faith in the merits of the book. But only his confidence in the discernment of the public, and in the wisdom of his method of presenting doctrines so abstract and unusual. Within a fortnight of the date of publication, he saw that the success of the book

was doubtful. Quote, I'm afraid, end quote, he says, quote, to remain so very long, those who are accustomed to reflect on such abstract subjects are commonly full of prejudices, and those who are unprejudiced are unacquainted with metaphysical reasonings. My principles are also so remote from all the vulgar sentinence on the subjects that were they to take place, they would produce an almost total revolution in philosophy. And you know revolutions of this kind are not easily brought about, end quote. While from Nine Wells, to which soon after he returned to await developments, he wrote on 1 June to Henry Home.

Quote, I am not much in the humour of such comparisons at present, having received news from London of the success of my philosophy, which is but indifferent if I may judge by the sale of the book, and if I may believe my bookseller. I am now out of humour with myself, but doubt not in a little time to be only out of humour with the world,

like other unsuccessful authors. After all, I am sensible of my folly in entertaining any discontent, much more despair upon the account, since I could not expect any better from such abstract reasonings, nor indeed did I promise myself much better. My fondness for what I imagined my discoveries made me overlook all common rules of prudence, and having enjoyed the usual satisfaction of projectors, tis but just I should meet with their disappointment." The treatise did not indeed pass altogether unnoticed.

A long review of the work, written in a spirit of raillery at Hume's paradoxes, but ending with a handsome acknowledgement of the, quote, incontestable marks of a great capacity, end quote, and of, quote, a soaring genius, end quote. In the author appeared in the November issue of the periodical of the day, the history of of the works of the land. Still from an observation made long afterwards, 1748 to 9, by his bookseller, Mr. A. Miller, to Hume, that his former publications, quote, all but the unfortunate treatise, end quote, were beginning to be the subject of conversations. We may gather that Hume did not exaggerate in speaking of his book falling, quote, dead born from the press, end quote.

The examination of the principles of the work ushered into the world in these discouraging circumstances belongs to later chapters. It is only necessary to indicate here, in a few sentences, its general character and aim. In its complete form, the treatise consists of three books. The first treating, quote, of the understanding, end quote, the second, quote, of the passions, and the third, quote, of morals, end quote. The volumes published in 1739 comprised the first and second of these books, and it is in the book dealing with the understanding that the really vital part of Hume's system lies.

The treatment, as the author acknowledges, is throughout highly abstract, and is an even greater disadvantage, is unmethodical and desultuous, in its exposition of its various topics. But these faults are mainly on the surface. In the thoughts which compose it, the work is powerfully and compactly one. While the style has a vigour and cohesion with the idea to which a touch of ruggedness only lends additional strength, its spirit and purpose are best illustrated by quoting from its own pages.

Hume opens with a vindication of the right of metaphysical inquiry, not easily reconcilable with his later sentiments on the advantages of an, quote, easy and obvious, end quote, philosophy. Quote, nothing but the most determined skepticism, along with a great degree of indolence, can justify this aversion to metaphysics. For if truth be all that within the reach of human capacity, it is certain that it must lie very deep and abstruse, and to hope we shall arrive at it without pains,

while the great geniuses have failed with the utmost pains. We must certainly be esteemed sufficiently vain and presumptuous. I pretend to no such advantage in the philosophy I am going to unfold that it would esteem it a strong presumption against it, were it so very easy and obvious. End quote. His method is announced in the following passage, quote,

Here then, is the only expedient from which we can hope for success in our philosophical researchers, to leave the lingering tedious method, which we have hitherto followed, and instead of taking now and then a castle or village on the frontier, to march up directly to the capital, or centre of these sciences, to human nature itself, which being once masters of, we may everywhere else hope for an easy victory. In pretending, therefore, to explain the principles of human nature, we in effect propose a complete system of the sciences, built on a foundation almost entirely new, and the only one on which they can stand with any security. And as the science of man is the only solid foundation for the other sciences, so the only

solid foundation we can give to this science itself must be laid on experience and observation." quote. Human nature, then, we find, is the subject of Hume's investigation, and his method is defined to be the experimental. Already, we can perceive the boldness of his enterprise and the revolutionary character of the conceptions he proposes to expound. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is a a Libervox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libervox.org. Read by Kevin Manley, David Hume and his influence on philosophy

and theology by James Orr. Life of Hume, Part 2. Literary Labor's to the publication of the history. Hume was too genuine a philosopher to allow himself to be unduly depressed by the apparent failure of his first attempt at authorship, and accordingly he is found without delay setting himself to the preparation for publication of the third book of his treatise, that on morals. This part of the work, as following on the treatment of the understanding and the passions, deals with moral judgments, and the qualities of virtue and vice in character and actions. It comes, therefore, properly under the general head of an inquiry into human nature, and is conducted on the same principles of rigorous experimental analysis as the previous books, but without startling the reader with the skeptical paradoxes of the speculative sections.

In handling moral questions, Hume was entering a field witch since the time of high, jobs, English philosophers had diligently cultivated and on which more recently interest had been concentrated by the lectures of Francis Hutchison. Not unnaturally, therefore, he was anxious to obtain the opinions and suggestions of the distinguished Glasgow Moralist on his performance and submitted his manuscript to Dr. Hutchison for this purpose. An interesting correspondence ensued, chiefly remarkable as showing how tenaciously, while welcoming criticism from others, Hume held by his own ideas. This is characteristic of his epistolary intercourse all through. An incidental result of the correspondence was the opening of an acquaintance between Hume and a Mr. Smith, no doubt Adam Smith, then a student at Glasgow and barely 17.

Hume probably at Hutchison's suggestion sent Smith a copy of his treatise, a fact which sufficiently indicates the report he had received of the youthful Adams' abilities. It comes out in another letter that Hume was desirous of changing his publisher and obtained from Hutchison an introduction to Mr. Longman. It was actually by this publisher that the book was bought out in 1740. apart from a stray fact or two, as for instance, his attempt to obtain a tutorship in a nobleman's family with a view to travel, Hume's life at this stage is a little more than a record of his literary labors. In 1741 appeared in Edinburgh the first volume of his essays moral and political,

speedily followed by the second volume in 1742. The essays, like the treatise, were published anonymously, but, had a distinctly better reception. The work, Hume says, was favorably received and soon made me entirely forget my former disappointment. To Henry Holm, he writes in 1742, The essays are all sold in London, as I am informed by two letters from English gentlemen of my acquaintance. There is a demand for them, and as one of them tells me, Innes, the great bookseller in Paul's Churchyard, wonders there is not a new edition for that he cannot find copies for his customers. I am also told that Dr. Butler has everywhere recommended them so that I hope they will have some success. This popularity of the

essays is not surprising. They were cast in a mold at that time fashionable. Hume tells us they were originally designed as weekly papers on the model of The Spectator and the Craftsman. But beyond this, alike in the selection and variety of their subjects, and the finish of their style, they exhibited qualities which, to discerning minds, gave them at once a high rank in literature. As at first published, the volumes contained 27 essays. Of these, as many as eight, were gradually dropped, while several new ones were introduced and other changes made. The third edition, for instance, published in 1748, omitted three of the original essays and received an addition of three. The next years in Hume's history are comparatively uneventful. Two occurrences slightly break the monotony. In 1743 to 1744,

some stir was caused by a sermon published by the Reverend Dr. Leachman of Bithe on prayer, followed by the appointment of its author to the chair of DFINITY in the University of Glasgow. The sermon which resolved the efficacy of prayer into its reflex influence on the mind of the worshipper was submitted to Hume for suggestions through his friend, William, afterwards Baron Muir, of Caldwell. And the reply is interesting, as showing how far Hume's mind was severed from everything in religion, except, as he says, the practice of morality and the assent of the understanding to the proposition that God exists. affection to deity cannot, he thinks, owing to the invisibility and incomprehensibility of its object, be required of man as his duty, and even, where devotion never so much admitted, prayer must still be excluded.

He shows that Dr. Leachman's doctrine reduces prayer to a kind of rhetorical figure, and by encouraging the idea that prayers have a direct influence, leads directly and even unavoidably to blasphemy. On the main point, therefore, though from opposite sides, Hume and Dr. Leachman's theological opponents were at one. The other event, which gives a little color to this period, is the effort made by Hume to secure the appointment to the chair of Ethics and Numatic Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. The occupant of the chair, doctor, afterwards Sir John Pringle,

had been appointed physician to the Earl of Stair, commander of the British forces in the low countries, and in accordance with a loose practice of these times, had been for two years absent from his duties in the university. The Council of Edinburgh, to which he offered his resignation, thought it necessary that at least a term be put to his further absence, and in March 1745 he actually did resign. When the vacancy was in prospect, Hume was induced to put himself forward as a candidate, August 1744, and backed by the provosts influence thought himself secure of the appointment. I found presently, he writes, that I should have the whole counsel on my side, and that indeed I should have no antagonist. Opposition, however,

soon showed itself, and from unexpected quarters, the accusation of heresy, deism, skepticism, atheism, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, he says, was started against me, but never took, being bore down by the contrary opinion of all the good company in town. Much more to his surprise, he found that Mr. Hutchison and even Mr. Leachman were in the ranks of those who agreed that he was a very unfit person for such an office. The efforts also of the good company to persuade the public that Hume was no heretic deist or skeptic must have failed, for when the vacancy actually occurred, his name was not even mentioned. The post was given in June 1740.

to William Claycorn, who had taught in Dr. Pringle's absence. A disagreeable episode in Hume's career fills up the interval from April 1745 to April 1746. The Marquis of Annandale, last of that title, a man of excitable disposition, and as it proved in the first stages of insanity, had been attracted by Hume's essays, and early in 1745 invited Hume to become his companion at his residence at Well Hall near St. Aubens in Hertfordshire. He sent Hume 100 pounds, and finally an arrangement was come to by which Hume was to receive 300 pounds a year so long as the connection lasted. The position, though not an enviable one, had its obvious advantages, and Hume might have endured it but for the offensive tyranny of a Captain Vincent, a relation of the Dowager Martianess,

to whom was entrusted the management of the Marquis Affairs. The self-seeking designs of this man, Hume early detected and sought to counteract, with the result that Vincent, who at first had been friendly, became his bitter enemy, plotted to reduce his salary by one half, and made his situation as servile and galling as a man of coarse nature invested with authority could. The perturbation of spirit occasioned by his affronts leads Hume to break out in his correspondence into quite unusual strains. He had resisted his suspicions of Vincent, he told us, as he would a temptation of the devil, and in his excitement he thus accosts Sir James Johnstone. God forgive you, dear sir, God forgive you, for neither coming to us nor writing to us.

The Marquis' temper became daily more uncontrollable, and when self-respect could stand the indignities heaped upon him no longer, Hume took his departure. A sequel to the quarrel was a claim put in by Hume for 75 pounds of arrears of salary, the somewhat sordid dispute in regard to which dragged on until at least 1761. It is not known how it was settled. Hume's next experiences were of a much more pleasant order. They relate to his connection with General St. Clair in the capacity of secretary, first, during a naval expedition conducted in 1746 against the coasts of France,

and second, during a military embassy in 1748 to the court of Turin. the progress of which gave him an opportunity of seeing a large part of the continent. These two years Hume speaks of as almost the only interruptions which my studies have received during the course of my life, language which it is difficult to reconcile with his later occupations in France and England. The expedition first named had a somewhat inglorious history. It was originally intended to be sent against the French possessions in Canada, then resolved itself into a descent on the coast of France itself. It set sail on 14th September 1746

and landed its forces on the 20th at the town of Fort Le Orient, on the coast of Brittany. The attempt to compel the town to surrender proved a failure. Sickness set in, and in less than a week it was found necessary to raise the siege and retreat the fleet. The expedition soon after returned home. In addition to his position as secretary, Hume was appointed by the general judge advocate to all the forces under his command. He formed besides valuable acquaintances and saw a little of actual warfare.

The most interesting point in his correspondence in this period is the indication of certain historical projects, which we can trace rapidly settling into the purpose of writing a history. The year 1747 was spent at Ninewells, an interval of which his biographer takes advantage to introduce some specimens of Hume's versification and to discuss the probability of his ever having been in love. Assuredly, if the clarindas and lauras of Hume's muse were real persons, his passion for them must have been of a very mild sort, nor, while avowing himself fond of the society of modest women, does he ever seem to have been peculiarly susceptible to female charms? In his essays, as Mr. Burton says, he frequently discusses the passion of love, dividing it into its elements about as systematically as if he had subjected it to a chemical analysis and laying down rules regarding it as distinctly and specifically as if it were a system of logic. It was in the year following, 1748, that General St. Clair showed his

appreciation of Hume's previous services by inviting him to attend him as his secretary on his mission to Turin. This was an opportunity not to be lost, though it was not without regret that Hume laid aside the plans of study he had formed. We now hear from him distinctly. I have long had an intention in my riper years of composing some history, but he was wise enough to see that some wider experiences of cities and men and of the intrigues of the cabinet would be a valuable aid in the carrying out of his design, nor did the experience of the next few months disappoint his expectations. His letters begin to show an unwonted interest in people and things, and his descriptions of the cities through which he passed of the Hague, Breda, Naimachlan, Cologne, Bonn, Koblance,

Frankfurt, Rattespont, on to Vienna, Trent, Mantua, and finally Turin, are lively and entertaining. His enthusiasm for Virgil comes out at Mantua. We are now on classic ground, and I have kissed the earth that produced Virgil, and have admired those fertile plains that he has so finely celebrated. But it is noted that he never once con descends to mention any of the fine specimens of Gothic architecture he met with in his progress, not even the imposing fragment of the cathedral of Cologne. Hume's appearance on this embassy, clad in military scarlet, seems to have afforded some entertainment to his friends, if one may judge from the grotesque description given of him by that versatile Irish politician, Lord Charlemant. Nature, I believe, says this witness, 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 an imbecility, his eyes vacant and spiritless, and the corpulence of his whole person was far 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 Scottish accent, and his French was, if possible, still more laughable,

so that wisdom most certainly never disguised herself before and so uncouth a garb. though now near 50 years of age, he was 37, he was healthy and strong, but his health and strength, far from being advantageous to his figure, instead of manly comeliness, had only the appearance of rusticity. His wearing a uniform added greatly to his natural awkwardness, for he wore it like a grocer of the train bands. The mission to Turin was superseded by the Treaty of I. La Chappelle on 7th October, and at some uncertain date thereafter, Hume returned to London. There, soon after his arrival, he received a great blow in the news of the death of his mother. The reality of his emotion and the spirit in which he met the bereavement are attested

by the following narrative by Dr. Carlyle in Inverisk, which also sufficiently disposes of certain absurd stories set afloat by unscrupulous inventors. David and he, the Honorable Mr. Boyle, brother of the Earl of Glasgow, were both in London at the period when David's mother died. Mr. Boyle, hearing of it, soon after went into his apartment, for they lodged in the same house, where he found him in the deepest affliction and in a flood of tears. After the usual topics of condolence, Mr. Boyle said to him, my friend you owe this on common grief to having thrown off the principles of religion for if you had not you would have been consoled with the firm belief that the good lady who was not only the best of mothers but the most pious of christians was completely happy in the realms of the just to which david replied though i throw out my speculations to entertain the learned and metaphysical world yet in other things i do not think so differently from the rest of the world as you imagine Imagine. Notwithstanding this utterance, there is no reason to suppose that Hume's general

attitude of disbelief in the Christian religion was anything but entirely serious or even altered. Of this, as well as of the unchanged character of his philosophical foundations, a conclusive proof had just been given by the publication in 1748, while he was on his way to Turin, of the recast and popularized version of his speculations under the title of, philosophical essays concerning human understanding, subsequently modified to inquiry concerning the human understanding. The book was published in London by Andrew Miller. At first, it bore simply to be by the author of the essay's moral and political, but in November of the same year, a new edition was issued with the author's name. At first, the inquiry seemed faded to attract as little attention as the

treatise, but Hume's growing reputation and the bolder pronouncements of the book on subjects affecting revealed religion soon led to wider notice and hostile criticism. Hume's own design was that this simplified and improved form of his system should take the place of his older work, which he now desired to withdraw from circulation. His feeling on this point is best expressed in the advertisement prefix to the book in the posthumous and authoritative edition of 1777. He there rebukes the adversaries for directing all their batteries against that juvenile work which the author never acknowledged and have affected to triumph in any advantages which they imagined they had obtained over it. A practice, he says, very contrary to all rules of candor and fair dealing, and a strong instance of

those polemical artifices which a bigoted zeal thinks itself authorized to employ. Now, however, he expressed desires that the following pieces may alone be regarded as containing his philosophical sentiments and principles. It has hardly been seen that Hume's wishes with regard to the neglect of his treatise have not been fulfilled. It is not bigoted zeal, but that world of philosophy and letters to which he appealed, which has refused to let the older world, which has refused to let the older work drop out of sight or be displaced by the newer inquiry. It is not simply that the treatise is by far the abler and more vigorous and original work. Beyond this, there is the fact that the second work really alters nothing in the philosophical basis of the first, while it leaves

out much that is necessary for the understanding of the system as a whole. It was not, after all, the subject matter, but the lack of popularity of his earlier work which distressed Hume. He claims only that in the newer handling, some negligences in his former reasoning and more in the expression are, he hopes, corrected. Had it been given to him to foresee the estimate that posterity would put upon his treatise, in comparison with its later echo, the suppression of it is the last thing he would have desired. The utmost that can be claimed is that where differences of view emerge, the later statement shall be taken as the final one. advantage, at least, of the inquiry is that it helps to throw into relief the things that Hume himself

thought of most important in his philosophy. While much that is in the treatise is omitted, we have sometimes in briefer, occasionally in a more expanded form, a restatement of his theories on the origin of ideas, an association, on causation, on the idea of necessary connection, on liberty and necessity, etc. While important addition, are made in the essays on miracles and on a particular providence and a future state. Two extracts will suffice at this stage to show the general spirit of the work, one from the commencement, the other from the close. The first suggests comparison with Kant.

The only method of freeing learning at once from these abstruse questions is to inquire seriously into the nature of human understanding, show from an exact analysis of its powers and capacity that it is by no means fitted for such remote and abstruse subjects. We must admit to this fatigue in order to live at case ever after and must cultivate true metaphysics with some care in order to destroy the false and adulterated. The second is the drastic conclusion dear to Professor Huxley. If we take in our hand any volume of school, divinity, or metaphysics, for instance. Let us ask, does it contain any abstract reasoning concerning quantity or number? No. Does it contain any experimental reasoning

concerning matter of fact and existence? No. Committed then to the flames, for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion. During 1749 and 1750, Hume lived peacefully at Ninewells, though brain and pen were still unceasingly busy. His correspondence in these years with Dr. Clafane of London, Colonel Abercrombie and others, reveals a vein of sportiveness not ordinarily found in his compositions. We find him more seriously engaged in earnest preparation of his political discourses, published two years later,

and his letters to Dr. Gilbert Elliott, a gentleman of great accomplishment, reveal also that by this time, 1751, he had composed his dialogues concerning natural religion, of which a good deal will afterwards be heard. In these dialogues, which were not published till after his death, the cause of theism is upheld by Cleanthes, and Hume tells his correspondent that whatever he can think of to strengthen that side of the argument will be most acceptable to him. Sir Gilbert gave him his views at length, but few will regard the dialogues as a prop to theistic belief. The chief outcome of this period of labor, however, was the publication in 1751 of his inquiry concerning the principles of morals,

which answers to the third book of the original treatise, and completes, with the exception of the dissertation on the passions, the recasting of that early, work. The publisher was again, Mr. Millar. In Hume's own judgment, this was of all his works, historical, philosophical, and literary, incomparably the best. Posterity may not endorse this opinion, but most will allow that from a purely literary point of view, the work is elaborated and polished to a high degree. Hume had now clearly grasped the principle of utility as a key to the phenomena of morals, and developed his thesis with a skill which made his book a landmark in the history of discussion on the subject. As before, the work attracted little attention at the time,

though a reply from the pen of James, afterwards Professor Balfour of Pilloryg, appeared in 1753, the ability and courtesy of which induced Hume to seek the acquaintance of the author. It was probably before the appearance of the last-named work that Hume affected the change of his residence to Edinburgh, which opens a new period in his career. The immediate occasion of this step was his brother's marriage, but the removal was prompted also by a natural desire to be in a city already rising to distinction as an abode of letters and affording exceptional facilities for the carrying out of his literary designs. Hume was now, moreover, in comparatively easy circumstances.

He was, he tells us, the happy possessor of about £1,000. He writes to his friend, Ramsey, June 1751, that he could reckon on an income of about £50 a year, and by joining with his sister, who bought another £30, was able with frugality to set up a house in the capital. Accordingly, somewhat later in the year, he removed, as he informs us, from the country to the town, the true scene for a man of letters. His first settled residence, of which, however, he does not seem to have taken possession until

about May 1752, was in Riddell's land, near the head of the West Bow, in the lawn market. Next year, he removed to Jack's land, another of Edinburgh's tall tenements in the Canongate. here he remained till his purchase in 1762 of a house of his own in James's court. It was shortly after this removal to Edinburgh in 1752 that Hume published his political discourses, mostly on subjects of political economy, and as remarkable in their grasp of sound principles as in their anticipations of some of the later doctrines of Adam Smith in his wealth of nations. He speaks of this book as the only work of mine that was successful on its first publication and informs us that it was well received abroad and at home.

An indication of this acceptance is that a translation of it was soon made into French. The book was published by Kincaid of Edinburgh, and in its original form consisted of 12 essays. One of these, on the populaceness of ancient nations, affords striking evidence of the author's wide range of reading and faculty of just observation and evoked a good deal of controversy. The essay on an ideal commonwealth, which closes the volume, on the other hand, as conspicuously illustrates Hume's limitations as a constructive thinker. It is as curious a daydream as ever emanated from the brain of a really sensible man. Meanwhile, the winter of 1751 had seen Hume involved in a fresh attempt to obtain the dignity of professor. The chair of logic had become

vacant by the transferences of Adam Smith to the chair of moral philosophy, and Humes' friends, with his concurrence, interested themselves to secure the position for him, but as before, in vain. The disappointment which this occasion was partially soothed next year, 1752, by his election to the office of librarian to the faculty of advocates in Edinburgh at a salary of 40 pounds a year. For this post also a contest was waged, which, if Hume is not exaggerating, was attended with a good deal of excitement. "'Twas vulgarly given out,' he writes to Dr. Clifane, that the contest was between deists and Christians.

And when the news of my success came to the playhouse, the whisper ran round that the Christians were defeated. Are you not surprised that we could keep our popularity notwithstanding this imputation, which our friends could not deny to be well-founded? The appointment was one of great value to Hume, on aiding his historical researches, but he did not long retain it. The resentment at a slight passed upon him by the curators led him two years later voluntarily to transfer the emulguments of the office to the blind poet Blacklock.

and in January 1757, he resigned it altogether. The 10 years succeeding the publication of the political discourses, the composition and publication of the successive volumes of the work which at length raised hume to the height of a truly European fame if it also exposed him to the blasts of adverse criticism at home. This was his history of England, extending when complete from the invasion of Julius Caesar to the revolution of 1688. Hume had begun by giving to the world his metaphysical and moral speculations. He had next developed in his essays

his theories on taste, on politics, on economics, and had practically completed his message on all these heads. He was now to enter a field for success in which new powers were needed and which his principles would be at once applied and tested. Hume had but a poor opinion of the performances of his predecessors in the domain of English history. You know, he writes to Dr. Claffane, that there is no post of honor in the English language more vacant than that of history. Style, judgment, impartiality, care, everything is wanting to our historians. And even Rappen, during this latter period, is extremely. deficient. On the other hand, he entertained no doubt at all of his own ability to produce a

history worthy of the subject and of literature. And despite the glaring defects of the work to which reference will afterwards be made, posterity has on the whole accorded him the niche in the Temple of Fame he coveted. A remarkable circumstance was the extraordinary rapidity with which the successive installments of the history were composed. Hume conceived it wiser, though he afterwards regretted his decision to begin with the period of the Stuarts, and before the end of 1754, he had published the first volume of his History of Great Britain, a quarto of 473 pages containing the reins of James I and Charles I. Notwithstanding the discouragement which we shall see, the reception of this first volume caused him,

he had produced by 1756 his second volume, bringing down the narrative to the Revolution of 1688. His first volume was published by Hamilton, Balfour, and Neil, Edinburgh. His second by Andrew Millar, London, who thereafter secured the copyright of both and became the publisher of the subsequent volumes. Having finished his history of the Stuarts, he reverted to the period of the Tudors, and in 1759 published the two volumes of his history of the House of Tudor. This was followed at no great interval than 1762 by two other Quartos, comprising the history of England from Julius Caesar to the accession of Henry the 7th. Quartos, in fact, in this period of phenomenal activity, literally flowed from Hume. There remained, according to the original plan,

the period succeeding the revolution, and for a considerable time Hume had the preparation of this concluding part of his work before his thoughts. Bookseller and friends urged him to the task, but his visit to France and other engagements intervened, and all the pressure they could exert failed to bring him to set about the undertaking in right earnest. The project was finally abandoned, and apart from corrections and alterations of his volumes, Hume's literally literally, literary productivity may be said to have ceased in 1762. The merits and defects of the history will be considered in their proper place, but a few words may be said here on the reception accorded to the work produced under these remarkable conditions. Hume's own account of the

reception of the original volume is as follows. I was, I own, sanguine in my expectations of the success of this work. I thought I was the only historian that had at once-niqued. neglected present power, interest, and authority, and the cry of popular prejudices. And as the subject was suited to every capacity, I expected proportional applause. But miserable was my disappointment. I was assailed by one cry of reproach, disapprobation, and even detestation. English, Scotch and Irish, Whig and Tory, churchmen and secretary, free thinker and religionist, patriot and courtier, united in their rage against

the man who had presumed to shed a generous tear for the fate of Charles I and the Earl of Stratford. And after the first ebullitions of their fury were over, what was still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink into oblivion. Mr. Millar told me that in a 12-month he sold only 45 copies of it. Hume goes on to confess that this unexpected reception of his book discouraged him. So much so that had it not been that war was at the time breaking out between France and England, he would certainly have retired to some provincial town of the former kingdom, have changed his name, and never more have returned to his native country. Here, however, as in other instances, his excessive desire for popularity leads him to exaggerate the ill success

of his volume. Hostility, intense and widespread, the history indeed did encounter. But the opposition rather gave it notoriety than doomed it to oblivion. Hume's own letters show that, in Scotland at least, it had a remarkably cordial reception. The sale, he writes to Adam Smith in December 1754, has been very great in Edinburgh, but how it goes on in London we have not been precisely informed. And to the Earl of Balkyrus, on same date 17th September, I am very proud that my history, even upon second thoughts, appears to have something tolerable in your lordship's eyes. It has been very much canvassed and read here in town, as I am told, and it has full as many inveterate enemies as partial defenders. The misfortune of a book, says Bolo, is not the being

ill-spoken of, but the not-being-spoken of at all. The sale has been very considerable here, about 450 copies in five weeks. How it has succeeded in London I cannot precisely tell, only I observe that some of the weekly papers have been busy with me. In truth, as we shall see, Hume had no reason to be surprised at the amount or violence of the opposition his history called forth. It had, as every critic admits, many of the qualities of a first-class historical work, but its excellences were counterbalanced by equally serious defects. Hume prides himself on nothing so much as on his impartiality, yet impartiality, in the real sense of the word,

is precisely the quality in which the work is conspicuously wanting, for the higher range of motives he has, as we shall see, little comprehension. Hence, while his generous tear drops for Strafford and Charles, he has no insight into the genius and meaning of a great religious movement like Puritanism, or into a character like that of Cromwell, who is to him throughout what he names him on his first appearance this fanatical hypocrite. Yet Hume was genuinely amazed that anyone should impugn the justice, or challenge the perfect impartiality, of his judgments. The second volume of the history, that dealing with the Commonwealth, Charles II, and James II, happened, Hume says, to give less displeasure to the wigs and was better received.

It not only rose itself but helped to buoy up its unfortunate brother. It was really written with more caution. Hume was resolved, as he assured his publisher, to give no further umbrage to the godly. The publication of the volumes of the Tudors, on the other hand, revived all the former animosities. The clamor against this performance, he says, was almost equal to that against the history of the two first stewards. The reign of Elizabeth was particularly obnoxious. The fame of Hume, however, was by this time too securely established to be shaken by these outbursts of disapprobation. Still, the critics had not misjudged. every new issue of the volumes showed that the spirit pervading them was one wholly antipathetic to genuine love of liberty it is noticed that nearly all the changes in later editions are on the side adverse to popular rites hume himself says

in above a hundred alterations which further study reading and reflection engaged me to make in the reins of the first two stuarts i have made all of them invariably to the tory side nothing need be said of the volumes of the history prior to the period of the tudors these are the least original and valuable of the whole and need to be corrected at every point from later research end of chapter three Chapter 4 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is a Libravox recording. All Libervox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit liverfox.org. David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr. Life of Hume 3.

From the publication of the history to his history. death. A few events, partly personal and partly literary, which belonged to the period when Hume was occupied with his history, have still to be mentioned. Hume's skeptical opinions were well known, and in 1755 to six attempts were made at the instance of a polemical individual, the Reverend George Anderson, to bring him, in conjunction with Lord Kames, under the center of of the General Assembly of the Church. Footnote. Kame's essays had really been written in opposition to Hume. End of footnote. The Assembly went so far as to pass a resolution expressive of the church's utmost abhorrence of impious and infidel principles, and of the deepest concern on account of the

prevalence of infidelity and immorality, the principles of which have been to the discreetal. The disgrace of our age and nation, so openly avowed in several books published of late in this country, and which are but too well known among us. When, however, in the following year, the attack was renewed in a committee of assembly against Hume personally. The proposal to send up an overture on the subject was rejected. Footnote, the indefatigatable Anderson tried afterwards. To have the publishers of Lord Kame's essays arranged before the Presbytery, but died before the case came on. End of footnote. The next year, 1757, saw the publication by Mr. Miller of a volume consisting of four dissertations, which, as it turned out afterwards, had a curious and complicated history.

The dissertations in question were on, the natural history of religion. The past, taking the place of the corresponding book in the treatise. Tragedy and the standard of taste. Originally, it would seem, the volume was meant to include a dissertation on geometry, probably with reference to the discussions on that subject in the older work. Then, excluding geometry, it was intended to embrace, along with the first three of the above-named essays, two others on suicide and the immortality of the soul. These essays were actually printed as part of the volume,

but were subsequently suppressed, and in their room was inserted, finally, the disquisition on the standard of taste. The fact of the suppression was brought to light by the unauthorized publication in 1783 of the two essays, with adverse comments by a person who has surreptitiously obtained copies of them. The motive of the suppression is sufficiently obvious from their character. One, a thoroughgoing defense of the lawfulness of suicide.

The other is skeptical undermining of the arguments for future life. The essay on immortality is not rendered less distasteful by its ironical allusions at the beginning and the end to the obligations of mankind to divine revelation. The volume of dissertations cast light on Hume's mind in other ways. As originally printed, it was introduced by an affectionate dedication to John Holm, who was at the time in trouble with the church over the production of his tragedy of Douglas, on the stage in Edinburgh. and hume was persuaded to suppress this dedication lest it should further compromise his friend's prospects almost immediately he repented his decision moved probably by the knowledge that home intended resigning his charge at athelstainford

but the addition was issued and it was only later that the dedication could be restored its inflated language is a characteristic illustration of hume's curious blindness in matters of literary judgment, where personal friendship and especially anything Scottish was concerned. He thus addresses home, you possess the true, theiatric genius of Shakespeare and Otway, refined from the unhappy barbarism of the one and the licentiousness of the other. He writes to Adam Smith concerning the tragedy itself, when it shall be printed, which will be soon, I am persuaded it will be esteemed the best, and by French critics the only tragedy in the language. An instance of the like overweening estimate of the performances of his friends occurs about the same time in his extravagant appreciation of the epigonead of the poet Wilkie.

To Hume's mind, Wilkie was almost the equal of Homer. His production was the second epic poem in our language. It is certainly, he says, a most singular production, full of sublimity and genius, adorned by a noble harmonious, forcible, and even correct versification. Footnote, Burton says, No Scotchman, could write a book of respectable talent without calling forth his loud and warm elogiums. Wilkie was to be the homer, Blacklock, the Pindar, and home the Shakespeare, or some something still greater of his country.

End a footnote. This generous temper had no doubt its praiseworthy side, enabling him to take a disinterested delight in the literary successes even of those who stood to him more nearly in the position of rivals. He rejoiced unfeignedly in the chorus of approval which greeted the appearance of his friend, Dr. Robertson's History of Scotland,

1758, and in the welcome accord to the theory of moral sentiments of Adam Smith, 1759. He even seems for a time, though not quite unreservedly, to have yielded to belief in the genuineness of the poems of ASEAN, in defense of which Dr. Hugh Blair had written a learned dissertation. Reflection soon led him to a very different judgment on this last point. There is preserved from his pen an essay on the authenticity of Aussians' poems, in which the claims of the poems to antiquity are mercilessly demolished. The essay was not published in his lifetime, but it is characteristic that he continues to write to Blair, as if his mind was still in the balance on the question. From the end of 1758 till about November 1759, Hume resided in London, superintending the publication of his volumes on

the Tudors, and rendering service to Dr. Robertson in seeing his history of Scotland through the press. He had even at one time, 1757, the thought of taking up his permanent residence in London. Edinburgh, however, was still the place most congenial to him. In 1762, as formerly mentioned, he changed his residence in that city to a house he had acquired in James Court, a large square enclosure into which one still enters by a close from the lawn market. Tall buildings surrounded the court. The house which Hume occupied was on the third story, on the northern side, and from its windows commanded a fine view of the lake in the hollow below and of the open

spaces beyond, now covered by the new town of Edinburgh, the erection of which his domicile formed part has since been replaced by the offices of what, formerly the Free Church, is now the United Free Church of Scotland. Here, Hume, one in town, spent tranquil days, and amidst the whirl and gaiety of Paris, sighed, he tells us, twice or thrice a day, but the armchair is. In the retreat it afforded him. It is a curious fact that the house was for a time, rented from Hume, by James Boswell, who there received Dr. Samuel Johnson,

whose antipathy to its owner was so extreme. And during Hume's absence in France, it was occupied by Dr. Blair. Among the new friendships made by Hume in these years, mention should be made of two of some interest in a controversial respect. In 1761, Hume had submitted to him the sermon of Dr. Campbell of Aberdeen, afterwards enlarged into the dissertation on miracles,

and, in offering his criticisms, took considerable exception to some of its expressions, particularly one in which he was denominated an infidel writer. Campbell complacently tonged down the offensive passage, and an interchange of complementary letters followed, in one of which Hume gives the account formally alluded to of how the essay on miracles originated. One paragraph from a letter to Dr. Blair in this connection

deserves to be quoted, as showing the terms on which Hume maintained his intimacy with his clerical friends. It is this. Having said so much to your friend, Dr. C., who is certainly a very ingenious man, though a little too zealous for a philosopher. Permit me also the freedom of saying a word to yourself. Whenever I have had the pleasure to be in your company, if the discourse turned upon any common subject of literature or reasoning, I always parted from you both entertained and instructed.

But when the conversation was diverted by you from this channel, towards the subject of your profession, Though I doubt not, but your intentions were very friendly towards me. I own I never received the same satisfaction. I was apt to be tired and you to be angry. I would therefore wish for the future, whenever my good fortune throws me in your way, that these topics should be foreborned between us. I have long since done with all inquiries on such subjects, and am become incapable of instruction,

though I own that no one is more careful. capable of conveying it than yourself. Two years later, 1763, Hume was brought into communication again through Dr. Blair, with another and more formidable opponent, Dr. Thomas Reed. Reed was at the time preparing his inquiry into the human mind in confutation of Hume's principles. I wish, said Hume, when he heard of it, that the Parsons would confine themselves to their old occupation of worrying one another and leave philosophers to argue with temper, moderation, and good manners, an observation of which neither the temper nor the good manners is conspicuous. The perusal of the manuscript changed his opinion, and he wrote to read in warm appreciation

of the deeply philosophical spirit of his work. The reply he received must have more than gratified his vanity and soothed him for any disappointment he had felt at the earlier neglect of his works. Reed wrote. In attempting to throw some new light upon these abstruse subjects, I wish to preserve the due mean betwixt confidence and despair. But whether I have any success in this attempt or not, I shall always avow myself your disciple in metaphysics. I have learned more from your writings and this kind than from all others put together. Your system appears to me not only coherent in all its parts, but likewise justly deduced from principles commonly received among philosophers.

Principles which I never thought of calling in question until the conclusions you draw from them in the treatise of human nature made me suspect them. If these principles are solid, your system must stand, and whether they are or not, can better be judged after you have brought to light the whole system that grows out of them than when the greater part of it was wrapped up in clouds and darkness. I agree with you, therefore, that if this system shall ever be demolished.

You have a just claim to a great share of the praise, both because you have made it a distinct and determinate aim to be marked at and have furnished proper artillery for the purpose. We now approach what may be termed the crowning triumph of Hume's life, the period of his French visit. Hume made no secret at any time that the French were the people he most admired. He was now to have experience of the extraordinary degree in which they admired him. The new period is led up to by correspondence opened in 1761 with the Lady of Accomplishment in High Social Rank. The Compteus de Bufle.

who, if we may believe herself, had been transported almost beyond the power of expression by the exquisite qualities of Hume's genius. The fact that this lady held the equivocal position of mistress to the Prince of Conti seems neither to have occasioned any trouble in her own mind nor excited any disapprobation in that of Hume. Footnote.

Her regard for the prince he considered as really honorable. and virtuous. He became her confidant, and did his best to console her for her disappointment and not being made princess at her husband's death. End a footnote. In the interchange of letters that followed, Hume and the Comtesse vied with each other in the exuberance of their compliments. And if Hume has kept thinking himself a demigod, or something very near it, the blame cannot be laid at the door of his fear correspondent. For instance, I know no terms capable of expressing what I felt in reading this work, the history. I was moved, transported, and the emotion which it caused in me is, in some measure, painful by its continuance. But how shall I be able to express the effect produced

on me by your divine impartiality? I would that I had on this occasion, your own eloquence, of which to express my thought. In truth, I believed I had before my eyes the work of some celestial being, free from the passions of humanity, who, for the benefit of the human race, has de deign to write the events of these latter times. Madame de Beaufleurs had heard that Hume had some intention of coming to Paris, and exerted all her powers of persuasion to induce him to do so. She also wrote soliciting his interest on behalf of the exiled J.J. Rousseau, in the event of that persecuted man, seeking an asylum in England. We shall see what came of

that request afterwards. Meanwhile, the way for the visit to Paris was opened up in an unexpected manner. In the middle of 1763, Hume received an invitation for the Marquis of Hertford, ambassador to the court of France to accompany him in the capacity of acting secretary. No offer could be more flattering to hume or more agreeable to his inclinations and its material advantages, the settlement upon him of a pension of 200 pounds per life, with the near prospect of becoming full secretary to the embassy at 1,000 pounds a year, were very great. His first impulse was to decline, but be thankful.

thinking himself, as he instructively says, that I had in a manner of jurid all literary occupations, that I resolved to give up my future life entirely to amusements, that there could not be a better pastime than such a journey, especially with the man of Lord Hurtford's character. Footnote, the official secretary was one Sir Charles Bunbury, an incapable man, whom Hurtford refused to have with him. End a footnote. He decided to accept. And in August 1763,

he set out for London, arriving in Paris with the embassy on the 14th of October following. It would be unprofitable to dwell on the details of Hume's residence in France during the next two years, and only general features need to be sketched. His welcome in that country exceeded all expectations.

Lord Ellabank, writing from Paris on 11th May, 1763, had said to him, No author ever yet attained to that degree of reputation in his own lifetime that you are now in possession of at Paris. And Hume found that this statement was no exaggeration. His connection with Hertford opened to him the circles of highest distinction at court. His literary celebrity was an even sure of, passport to the brilliant society of the salons. On all sides, he was feted, flattered, honored, was smothered in compliments by the ladies, was extolled among the literality as a genius of transcendent

merit. A paragraph or two from his letters will suffice an illustration of his reception at Paris and at Fontainebleau. I have been three days at Paris, and two at Fonterman. I have been three days at Paris, and two at Fontainebleau, he said, and have everywhere met with the most extraordinary honors, which the most exorbitant vanity could wish or desire. The compliments of Dukes and Marichelles of France, and the foreign ambassadors go for nothing with me at present. I retain a relish of no kind of flattery,

but that which comes from the ladies. To Adam Smith. I have now passed four days at Paris, and about a fortnight in the court of Fontainebleau. Amidst a people who, from the royal family downwards, seems to have it much at heart to persuade me by every expression of esteem that they consider me one of the greatest geniuses in the world.

I am convinced that Louis XIV, never in any three weeks of his life, suffered so much flattery. I say suffered, but it really confounds and embarrasses me. and makes me look sheepish. To Professor Ferguson, Do you ask me about my course of life? I can only say that I eat nothing but an ambrosia,

drink nothing but nectar, breathe nothing but incense, and tread on nothing but flowers. Every man I meet, and still more every lady, would think they were wanting in the most indispensable duty if they did not make a long, an elaborate harangue in my praise.

To Dr. Robertson. France, gay, corrupted, unbelieving, was hastening to its inevitable doom of 25 years later, but Hume seems to have had not the remotest inkling of the fact. What he did see was a charmingly cultivated and polite people, wholly possessed by rageful letters, in the halls of the great and at the supper tables of the ladies, who presided nightly over their respective coteries of wits and philosophers, Hume soon made the acquaintance of most of the men of distinction of the day, of Dallembert, Turgot, Helvetius, Marmintel, Bofom, Dieterot, and a host of others,

and was lionized by all to the top of his bent. It is to the credit of the good sense of Hume that this excess of flatter did not altogether, spoil him. It would be foolish to say that it was not agreeable to him. It amused him and gratified his vanity. He could not help contrasting it with the coldness of his reception at home. At the bottom of his mind, perhaps, he did not disdain the thought that he deserved it, but his letters give abundant evidence that he did not lose his head over it. He constantly protests that it made little difference to his happiness, that the excess of it palled upon him, that he longed to escape from it to the quiet of his old life. I am sensible, he writes to Ferguson, in a passage formerly alluded to,

that I set out too late, and that I am misplaced, and I wish, twice or thrice a day, for my easy chair and my retreat in James' court. Never think, dear Ferguson, that as long as you are master of your own fireside and your own time, you can be unhappy, or that any other circumstance can make an addition to your enjoyment. But this, too, was a mood, and on the whole, it must be pronounced that Hume thoroughly enjoyed his life at Paris, got so used to it indeed, that it became a question with him whether he could ever part with it. Many anecdotes, naturally, clustered around this period when Hume was, as Walpole maliciously called him, the mode in fashionable and literary circles in the French capital. Hume himself tells that as society got more familiar with him,

it founded him a source of some amusement. They now begin to banter me, he says, and tell droll stories of me, which they have either observed themselves or have heard from others. This was inevitable, for neither in personal appearance nor in a dress could Hume ever be aught but a contrast to the gay, frivolous company in which he mingled. No ladies' toilette, Lord Charlemont sarcastically tells us, was complete without Hume's attendance. At the opera, his broad unmeaning face was usually seen entre d'est-gely minot. It is an amusing picture. which Madame Depennet has given of his appearance, in his role of Sultan, in an acted tableau at a fashionable evening entertainment. Seated on a sofa between two of the loveliest women of Paris, he is supposed to be

demonstrating his affections to two slaves, who turn a deaf ear to his protestations. But during a quarter of an hour, he can think of nothing better to do than fixing his gaze upon the beauties, to beat upon his knees and stomach, and keep repeating, A. V.M. Madame Moseves, A bien, you voile don't. A bien, voe-vola. You voila here.

One of the ladies at length bounces off in her impatience exclaiming, said omnibon, can manage you devout. This man is only fit to eat veal. Of a different stamp as a story told to Sir Samuel

Romilly by Diderot of a dinner at Baron de Holbeck's. There was a large company and the conversation turned on natural religion. As for atheists, said Hume, I don't believe that they exist. I never saw one. You have been a little unfortunate, replied his host. You are here at table for the first time with 17 of them. Hume's position in the embassy as already seen was that of acting second. while another, Sir Charles Bonbury, held the title to the office and drew his emoluments in London. This was manifestly an unfair arrangement, and Hume's patron and Hume himself were alike anxious to have the office and its rewards transferred to the person who really did the work. Hume was concerned also less in the rapid changes of political parties in England.

He should find the life pension that had been promised him, suddenly vanishing. In letters to Sir Gilbert Elliot of Minto and other acquaintances, he solicits at Lord Hurford's instigation the influence on his behalf, though he intimates that he is doubtful of success. The matter, however, happily arranged itself in the end through the transference of Sir Charles Bunbury to the post for which he was equally unqualified, of Secretary for Ireland, when by the aid of friends among whom Madame de Beaufleurs is to be named. Hume was, June 1765, made secretary to the embassy, with the salary of £1,200 a year.

But his ambition in this respect had scarcely been realized when a new change took place. Lord Hertford was recalled to fill the High Office of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Hume was left for the time as Charger de Fay in Paris. The duties of that responsible position, he discharged with assiduity and ability till near the close of the year. Lloyd Hurdford's original design had been to take him with him to Ireland. This he did not accomplish, but he succeeded in obtaining for him the comfortable pension of £400 a year for life. Thus, at the conclusion of his two and a half year's sojourn in Paris,

our philosopher was, if not rich, at least in possession of a very substantial income. A piece of correspondence which belongs to this Parisian period cannot here be passed over, though the light it throws on Hume's principles of conduct is anything but a pleasant one. It is his reply to the letter of Colonel Edmund Stone, asking with regard to a young man who is a sort of disciple of Hume's own, whether it would be legitimate for him to take orders as a clergyman of the Church of England. You will determine, the writer says, whether a man of probity can accept of a living, a bishopric that does not believe all the 39 articles, for you only can fix him.

He has been hitherto irresolute. Hume's answer gives us a glimpse into his own mind. It is putting to greater respect on the voluble. and on their superstitions to pique oneself on sincerity with regard to them did ever anyone make it a point of honor to speak the truth to children or madmen if the thing were worthy being treated gravely i should tell him that the pentean oracle with the approbation of xenophon advised everyone to worship the gods No Mo Polios. I wish it was still in my power to be a hypocrite in this particular. The common duties of society usually require it, and the ecclesiastical profession only adds a little more to an innocent dissimulation,

or rather simulation, without which it is impossible to pass through the world. Am I a liar? Because I order my servant to say, I am not at home, when I do not desire. to see company. To this, then, Hume's philosophy brings us, deliberate falsehood and hypocrisy in the holiest region of our lives. The story of this part of Hume's career may be briefly completed. After many fluctuations of purpose as to the place of his abode, he returned to England with Rousseau, of whom wore anon in January 1766. He remained in London till midsummer,

then went north to Edinburgh, but it had not been many months there when he was honored with the fresh invitation to become Undersecretary of State for Scotland, there being at the time no principal secretary. Early in 1767 accordingly, we find him again in London, installed in this secretarial office, whose duties he continued to discharge till 20th July 1768. In the following year, he came back. back to Edinburgh, re-establishing himself in a storm of Isle in James' court. His own account is,

I returned to Edinburgh in 1769, very opulent, for I possessed a revenue of £1,000 a year, and though somewhat stricken in years, he was 58 years of age, with the prospect of enjoying long my ease, and of seeing the increase of my reputation. Strange how this notice. his reputation is invariably the dominant one. A little must now be said of an episode which perhaps stirred Hume more deeply than any other experience in his life. His famous quarrel with the eccentric and only half-responsible Swiss genius and sentimentalist Jean-Jacques Rousseau. There is nothing in this episode but what redounds to Hume's credit and kindness of heart, but it reveals what other instances also discover how much passion and vehemence of resentment

when his armor proper was touched lurked beneath our philosopher's ordinarily placid demeanor. Footnote, his biographer remarks on an earlier correspondence with Lord Ellibank that it shows that he was by no means exempt from the passion of anger and that when a Under its influence, he was liable to be harsh and unreasonable, and refutes the general notion formed of his character, viz, that he passed to life unmoved and immovable, a placid mass of breathing flesh, on which the ordinary impulses which roused the human passions into life, might expend themselves in vain. Human, in fact, could be aroused to an astonishing strength of indignation, when either his person or

opinions received what he regarded as injustice. End a footnote. Reference was made above to a letter of the Comptester Ber Fleurs in 1762, recommending Rousseau to Hume's good offices, should he come to England. Letters from the exiled Earl Marischel of Scotland, then governor of New Shuttle, bore on the same subject. The facts briefly were that Rousseau, who had been living peacefully, at Monmorency, under the protection of his friends, the Duke and Duchess of Luxembourg, had been compelled in 1762 by the storm of persecution which broke out on the publication of his Emil to flee the kingdom of France and take refuge in Switzerland. He found an asylum at Noxchattle, then under Prussian sovereignty,

but his friends thought it wiser that he should seek refuge in England. Hume warmly interested himself in the project, assuring Madame de Buflars, that there is no man in Europe of whom I have entertained a higher idea and whom I would be prouder to serve. Rousseau's pride, however, prevented him from receiving the preferred favors, and he continued to reside at various retreats in Switzerland, persecuted by priests and populace, and made miserable by his own self-tormenting dispensation. position until October 1765, when he left for Straussburg, and in December, at Hume's invitation, found his way to Paris. In all these wanderings he was accompanied by his coarse-natured mistress, Teresa Love Viser. With genuine goodness of heart, Hume took him in hand, had him provided for by the Prince of Conte, and as we have seen, brought him with himself to England, in January,

1766. He could not be unobservant of Rousseau's peculiar humors, but then, and for months afterwards, he entertained the highest opinion of the strange being,

with whose fame Europe at the time was ringing. My companion, he writes, on 19th January, is very amiable, always polite, gay often, commonly sociable.

I love him very much and hope that I may have some share in his affections. And on 2nd February, he is a very modest, mild, well-bred, gentle-spirited, and warm-hearted man, as ever I know in my life. He is also to appearance very sceptible. I never saw a man who seems better calculated for good company, nor who seems to take more pleasure in it. Hume kept him at his house in London, obtained for him from the king, the promise of a pension of 100 pounds a year, and not to delight on other kindnesses, as Rousseau seemed bent on a life of solitude, finally arranged for his being established in the charmingly situated country mansion of Wooten.

In Darbyshire, the property of a Mr. Davenport, who took a warm interest in the fortunes of the wanderer. To soothe Rousseau's susceptibilities, Mr. Davenport agreed to accept 30,000. pounds a year for board. All this, however, was in vain, so far as the securing of Rousseau's happiness was concerned. It was the misfortune of this singularly constituted individual that, as one has said, he had an utter incapacity for establishing healthy relations with one single human being, and his morbid sensibility, egoistic jealousy, and passionate craving for a notoriety, which he continually affected to denounce, made him the victim of perpetual suspicions and delusions. He coquetted with the proposed pension from the king, and appeared to refuse it.

Then an answer to a letter of Hume on the subject, amazed that philosopher by an epistle, 23rd June, in which he flatly accused Hume of being engaged, all the while he was professing friendship of deep designs against his honor and broke off further correspondence with him. Hume replied, in not a natural heat, demanding an explanation of these extraordinary charges. This solicited, in three weeks' time, an enormous letter, 35 pages of print, in which Rousseau, in the form of a continuous narrative, piles up with no better a foundation than his own diseased imaginations. the supposed proof of Hume's wicked conspiracies against him since their relations began. It would be profitless to enter into the details of charges so ridiculous.

The occasion of the whole was a silly satire on Rousseau, which Sir Robert Walpole had set abroad in Paris in form of a letter from Frederick of Prussia, by which Rousseau's vanity was deeply wounded. The adverse thought, the insults, was by Voltaire when he discovered Walpole's share in the jest. He immediately suspected Hume of being privy to it. This suspicion once planted in his mind. He found confirmations of it in every word, act, and look of Humes.

Even those in which Hume was most his friend. Hume was not less shocked at the discovery. He supposed he had made of the baseness, an ingratitude of one for whom he had done so. so much, and, not content with repelling Rousseau's own attacks, wrote freely on the subject to his friends in Scotland and France. He declares to Blair that Rousseau is, surely the blackest and most atrocious villain, beyond comparison, that now exists in the world, and I am heartily ashamed of anything I ever wrote in his favor. His letters to Baron Dolbach, to Dallember, to Madame

to Blufels and others in Paris, I couched in the same indignant and vindicatory strain. Surely, he says to the Abbe de Blanc, never was there so much wickedness and madness combined in one human creature. In all this Hume did not exhibit his usual self-restraint. He was even moored, though Rousseau had published nothing, to give to the world an expose of the whole quarrel, and this with accompanying document. was published first in French than in English. It need only be added that in April 1767 Roussel voluntarily fled with Mademoiselle de Vasseur from his retreat at Wooten, leaving about 30 pounds with his baggage in Mr. Davenport's possession. He betook himself to

Paris where he had an unfriendly reception, and he seems afterwards to have regretted his foolish behavior. Hume also is known to have exerted himself in 1767 to protect him from the French government. We gather from a letter of Mr. Davenports that Rousseau's pension was continued to him. This gentleman's kind forbearance to the unhappy exile is one of the relieving features of a sordid story. The short remaining period of Hume's life, the quiet evening of his days, was spent in Edinburgh, with scarcely any stronger excitement than that afforded by literary occupations and the society of congenial friends. In 1771, the house in James's court was exchanged for one more suitable to his enlarged means, built at the corner of what is now St. David's Street, in the new part of the city.

The name of the street originated, it is well known, from the wit of a young lady, who chalked the words on the walls of Hume's half, Heum took the jest in good part, remarking to the servant girl who ran in, much excited, to tell him what had been done. Never mind, Lassie. Many a better man has been made a saint of before. The desire for further travel or change seems absolutely to have deserted him, once he was esconsed, in his old quarters. I have been settled here two months, he writes in 1769, and am here, he is here. body and soul, without casting the least thought of regret to London or even to Paris. The English he had always courtly disliked, and his feelings towards them in these last years

seemed to acquire a character of ever-deepening antipathy. What repelled him was the scorn and contempt of the English for the Scots and for things Scotch. He had written earlier, 1765, to Millar, one of many similar evolutions. The rage and prejudice of parties frighten me. Above all, this rage against the Scots, which is so dishonorable and indeed so infamous to the English nation. We hear that it increases every day without the least appearance of provocation on our part. Now we find him denouncing to Sir Gilbert Elliot,

the daily and hourly progress of madness and folly, and wickedness in England, and declaring our government has become a chimera, and is too perfect in point of liberty, but so rude a beast as an Englishman, who is a man, a bad animal, too, corrupted by above a century of licentiousness. The only literary work in which he indulged himself besides correspondence was the continued revision of his former works, and this again, as regards the history, meant chiefly as we saw, the purging out of remaining traces of Whigism. Thus, to Elliot, I am running over again the last edition of my history, in order to correct it still further. I either soften or expunge many villainous seditious wig strokes,

which had crept into it. I am sensible that the first editions were too full of those foolish English prejudices, which all nations and all nations. And all ages disavow. The social life of Edinburgh, in which Hume participated, was such as had many charms for a man of his genial disposition, and literary and philosophic tastes. His habits was simple, and his circumstances sufficiently affluent to raise him above all worldly cares. He had obtained the fame, which was his chief object in life, and he was welcomed as visitor of friend in the best society. His intimate associates were men of liberal cultivated mind, and the conversation at supper table, in the philosophical gathering, or at the more convivial club, was sure to be enlivened by abundance of anecdote, witty reffartee, or criticism of what was newest in politics or letters. Free from the faintest taint of religious feeling himself, he had no sympathy with fanaticism and enthusiasm in unambard.

others, and could rely on finding this element absolutely excluded from the eminently rational circles in which he molded. With a Blair and a Robertson, it was a condition of his intercourse that the subject to religion should not be obtruded, with more jovial spirits like Carlisle of Invernecks. He could have little fear that it would ever be introduced, saved by way of just. in the calm, Philosophic Heights to which was relegated by a Ferguson or an Adam Smith. It could not affect him much either one way or another.

Yet it is the testimony of everyone who knew him that Hume never wantonly or inconsiderately wounded the religious susceptibilities of others by untimely airing of his own skeptical opinions. His amiable social qualities, on the other hand, I universally extolled. He was, his friends unite in telling us, simple, natural, and playful, unaffected in manner, and kindly in disposition, charitable to those in need, pleasing and instructive in his conversational life to young and old. His mother's epithet, good-natured, clung to him

to the last, whatever might be said of the wake-mindedness. His own description of his character in his life is, it will perhaps be felt as good as any. I was, I say, a man of mild disposition, a command of temper, of an open, social and cheerful humor, capable of attachment, but little susceptible of enmity, and of great moderation in all my passions. Even my love of literary fame, my ruling passion, never soured my temper, notwithstanding my frequent disappointments. My company was not unacceptable to the young and careless, as well as to the studious and literary,

and as I took a particular pleasure in the company of modest women, I had no reason to be displeased with the reception I met with from them. Yet in the whole picture which whom draws of himself, it is remarkable that he does not acknowledge or hint at a single fault. The sketch is self-complacency throughout. The letters of this closing period would seem to indicate that in his last years, Hume's thought and conversation turned a good deal on politics, and that his wide connection with public men and public affairs,

furnished him with a store of anecdote and reminiscence on which he was never unwilling to draw. It is worth observing that, with all his Tory leanings, Hume was from the first opposed to the American War and foresaw its disastrous results. His views are indicated in various letters, but may perhaps best be inferred, per opposites he don't, from the following letter, in reply to one of his from Mr. Strayan, his printer, which is, in its own way, a gem of unwisdom. Mr. Strayan says, I differ from you, Toto Silo, with regard to America.

I am entirely for coercive methods with those often in bad men. And why should we despair of success? Why should we suffer the empire to be so dismembered, without the utmost exertions on our part? I see nothing so very formidable in this business, if we become a little more unanimous and could stop the months of domestic traders from when once the evil originated. Not that I wish to enslave the colonists or to make them one jot less happy than ourselves, but I am for keeping them subordinate to the British legislature, and their trade to a reasonable degree subservient to the interest of the mother country,

but which we must inevitably lose if they are emancipated as you propose. I am very surprised you are of a different. opinion. Very true. Things look oddly at present, and the dispute hath hitherto been very ill-managed. But so we always do at the commencement of every war. So we did most remarkably in the last. But so soon as the British lion is roused, we never fail to fetch up our leeway, as the sailors say. And so I hope you will find it in this important case. In the spring of 1775, Hume experienced the first symptoms of that internal disorder, a hemorrhage of the bowels, which had its fatal termination in the course of the following year.

At first, the distemper created little alarm, but its persistence in increasing gravity so marked it as likely to be incurable. By the commencement of 1776, Hume found that he had fallen off five complete stones in weight. His cheerfulness continued unabated, and his letters to Gibbon and Adam Smith show the lively interest excited in his mind by the publication of the decline in the fall of the one and the wealth of nations of the other. The serious state of his health led him on 4th January to execute a settlement in which, besides the provisions for the disposal of his estate,

he made careful arrangements with the publication of his dialogue, a natural religion, hitherto, by the urgency of his friends, withheld from the press. The bulk of his fortune he left to his brother, and after him to his nephew David. His sister was to receive £1,200. Among his legacies was one to Dallum Bear of £200, and another of the same sum to Adam Ferguson. Adam Smith was appointed his literary executor, and on him was laid the injunction of publishing the formidable dialogues. Difficulties, however, arose on this point. Dr. Blair, Sir Gilbert Elliott, and Smith himself, was strongly opposed to the publication of this work, which struck as they regarded it at the foundations of theism, and the

last must have plainly indicated to Hume, his unwillingness to take the responsibility laid upon him. Hume was as firmly resolved that the dialogue should see the light, and, while in a qualifying letter to Smith of 3rd May, he left it to his discretion to publish or not as he saw fit. He soon after, in a codicil to his will, 7th August, altered the disposition he had made, and left his manuscripts to the care of Mr. William Strayhan, trusting to the friendship that has long subsisted between us,

for his careful and faithful execution of my intentions. He desired that the dialogues might be printed and published any time within two years after his death. And failing this, he ordained, that the property should return to his nephew David, whose duty in publishing them, as the last request of his uncle, must be approved by all the world.

In point of fact, the duty was declined by Strahan, as by the others, and the dialogues were only at length published in accordance with Hume's wishes by his nephew in 1779. In April 1776, Hume wrote the sketch of his own life, which has been frequently referred to, and directions were left that it should be prefixed to any future edition of his works. The end was now drawing sensibly near, a journey which Hume undertook in April and May at the desire of his friends to London and Bath, though marked by gleams of hope, failed of any lasting good effect, and in the beginning of June, he returned to Edinburgh, consciously to take leave of his friends and of the world. The prospect filled him with no alarm.

If he cherished no religious hopes, it must be confessed that he had sculled his mind into a skepticism which seemed to enable him to dispense with them. He spoke of his approaching end with calmness and even playfulness. He maintained his usual unaffected cheerfulness and company. He uttered no repining at a departure which he reasoned, only cut off a few years of infirmities. In his own last words, in his life, one finds the old note of his literary reputation still uppermost. Though I see, he says, many symptoms of my literary reputations breaking out at last with additional luster. I knew that I could have a few years to enjoy it.

His friends, who were unremitting in their devotion to him, overflow in their admiration and astonishment at the composure, the imperturbability, the cheerfulness, the gaiety even, as in his jesting about charon and his boat, with which he met the dread event of death, to most so sad and solemn, He is to them the very ideal of the sage, and so indeed he would be, if the foundations on which his philosophic indifference rested were sound.

If human life had indeed, no higher meaning, no weightier responsibilities, no more earnest purpose, no more awful issues than he supposed. But that if makes all the difference in our sense of the fitness of things in the way of quitting life. died on the Sunday 25th August 1776, and such a happy composure of mind, says his physician, that nothing could exceed it. He was buried amidst abundant manifestations of the public interest, friendly and hostile, evoked by his person and opinions, in the young graveyard on Calton Hill, then in the open country, and above his remains was reared the circular monuments still to be seen, on which is inscribed by his expressed directions,

only the simple words, David Hume, with the years of his birth and death, leaving it, as he significantly says in his will, to posterity to add the rest. End of Chapter 4. Chapter 5 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public.

domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librivox.org. Read by Will Rodriguez. David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr. Hume in relation to previous philosophy, his skepticism. It is chiefly in connection with his speculations in philosophy and morals that Hume's name will go down to posterity. In other walks of literature, he holds a high and honorable, but by no more. means a peculiar place. He is Eunice ex-Multes, no more. Even as a historian, his fame in later years has been eclipsed by that of abler and more learned and impartial writers. But as philosopher, his speculations have passed into universal thought. Here his niche is his own. There is but one

Hume, as there is but one Descartes and one Kant. It has been seen that Hume's first and greatest philosophical work was his celebrated treatise of human nature, published anonymously in 1739 to 1740, and that the chief portion of this work was afterwards recast and published in more compact and literary form in the inquiry concerning the human understanding in 1748. The roots of his system, however, are all to be sought for in the treatise. The aim of both of these works is avowedly to inquire into the nature, operations, and limits of the human mind. The different parts of this inquiry held to be the grand prerequisite to success in all other departments of human knowledge are stated with great distinctness in the introductory section of the inquiry, on the different

species of philosophy. There is first psychology, or as hume terms it, the geography of the mental faculties. Here at least, he admits, we are on solid ground. The next inquiry is a deeper one. we not hope, he says, that philosophy, if cultivated with care, may carry its researches still further, and discover, at least in some degree, the secret springs and principles by which the human mind is actuated in its operations. The purpose of his investigation, therefore, is to disclose the ultimate principle or principles of intelligence, to run up all the operations of the mind to some principle which is general and universal. As yet, there is no hint that. There is no hint that given of his peculiar skepticism. On the contrary, though the investigation is owned to be a difficult

one, his tone is courageous and hopeful. He chooses to start with the usual assumption that truth is within our reach, leaving it to his after reasonings to disprove the postulate. It is only as the system advances that we begin to see whether we are drifting. It will facilitate the understanding of Hume's positions, and especially of his skepticism, if before entering on the the details of his system, we look shortly at the antecedence of his thinking in Locke and Berkeley, the philosophers by whom he was most influenced. We shall then consider more precisely the nature of the skepticism itself. Problems of philosophy. Philosophy may be described in general as the study of the nature of knowledge. The real question will be found to be what is experience.

Is sense the whole, or is there a rational factor involved in the constitution, of even the simplest experience. It was, however, in the assumption underlying the first question that Hume and the philosophers who preceded him found their common ground. Whatever differences

divided Descartes and Locke on such a subject as innate ideas, they were at one in the fundamental point that the sole object of the mind's knowledge is its own ideas. This was regarded by all thinkers as so self-evident as to need no proof.

It is universally allowed by philosophers, says Hume, and is besides pretty obvious of itself that nothing is ever really present with the mind but its perceptions or impressions and ideas, and that external objects become known to us only by those perceptions a occasion. From the admission of this position, it has commonly been attempted to show that the whole of Hume's conclusions, followed by inevitable sequence. This, we shall see, is only in part correct. The statement is strictly true only of the Lockean or empirical variety of the theory of ideas. Kant, for example, is as subjective as Hume in the assertion that objects are only known to us through the impressions

they excite in us, but his theory involves rational elements which save knowledge from the utter disintegration it undergoes at the hands of Hume. It is in the line of the empirical development of philosophy, however, that Hume stands. Hence, it is sufficient to trace the genealogy of his views as proposed from Locke and Berkeley. The answer given by Locke to the question of the origin of knowledge was on lines which the average intelligence of mankind would regard as those of plain common sense. He rejects the hypothesis of innate ideas.

The mind has no ideas but those which it derives from experience and in the first instance, through the gateways of the senses. Prior to sensible experience, the mind is a tabula rasa, a white paper void of all characters without any ideas, an empty cabinet waiting to be furnished with ideas led in by the senses. Knowledge begins with the impressions produced by the outward world on the organs of sense. These, convey to the brain, give rise to sensations. Thus, originate ideas of sensation which are the first kind of simple ideas.

Through sensation, the mind receives ideas of the qualities of the things which affected from without. Through sight, for example, ideas of form and color. Through touch, ideas of hardness, softness, roughness, extension, solidity, through hearing, idea of sounds, etc. But next, the mind can reflect on its own operations in dealing with this first class of ideas, as in perception, memory, imagination, reasoning, and on the affections and emotions to which they give rise. And this furnishes it with a second class of ideas, distinguished from the former as ideas of reflection. Simple ideas of both kinds yield through combination, complex ideas, etc. From the ideas derived from these two sources, sensation and reflection, all our knowledge, he

contends, is in the last analysis built up. There is another distinction to be observed in regard to these ideas of sensation, from which, according to Locke, our knowledge of the external world is derived. They fall, he explains, into two classes. The one class of ideas are properly only effects produced in us by the operation of external objects, and the idea bears no resemblance to the quality or property in the object which produces it. Such, for example, are the ideas of sweetness, of warmth, of sound, of color, which exists only in the mind and have no resemblance to the physical properties which are their causes. Ideas thus produced in us by properties of body which they in no wise resemble are called by Locke ideas

of secondary qualities. It is different with the other class of ideas. These, it is held, do resemble, are in a manner of copies or pictures of the qualities in the object. Thus, the ideas of shape, of figure, of solidity are produced in us as before by the operation of the object. But unlike the ideas of the secondary qualities, they have their counterparty. They have their counterparts and actual qualities of the object which they resemble. These ideas which have qualities and bodies corresponding to them, Locke names ideas of primary qualities. The qualities and bodies themselves are similarly distinguished. This eminently common sense account of the origin of our knowledge, however, proves much less satisfactory on closer inspection. The theory bristles, in fact,

as the slightest touch of criticism shows with inconsequences. On the one hand, Locke lays down the doctrine that the mind has knowledge only of its own ideas, while to account for these ideas he assumes a world of objects lying beyond consciousness, of which the world within our minds is so far a representation. But what is the warrant for this assumption? How can an idea which ex-hypothesi is wholly within the mind yield us the knowledge of an object without the mind, or tell us anything of its nature. It is declared that the ideas of primary qualities are copies of qualities in the objects.

But how is this to be ascertained? Who can overleap his own consciousness to verify the supposed resemblance? If reliance is placed on the principle of causation, it is easy to retort, as was done by both Berkeley and Hume, that causation gives us no title to infer resemblance in the case of primary, more than of secondary qualities, and that it does not entitle us to infer a material cause. The cause may be spiritual. Hume adds to this criticism that the whole procedure is illegitimate as going beyond experience. As no beings, he says, are ever present to the mind, but perceptions.

It follows that we may observe a conjunction or relation of cause and effect between different perceptions, but can never observe it between perceptions and objects. It is impossible, therefore, that from the evidence of any of the qualities of the former, we can ever form any conclusion concerning the existence of the latter or ever satisfy our reason in this particular. The difficulty on Locke's theory is accentuated by the fact that the knowledge we have of the external world is supposed to be derived wholly from sensation. It will be seen later that sensation, as a mode of pure feeling,

can give us no ideas of objects or of anything beyond its own immediate existence. But even conceding that, through sensation, we have the idea of external qualities. We are only at the beginning of our difficulties. Qualities, as Locke admits, when he comes to deal with that subject, do not subsist of themselves. They are modes. And modes, he tells us, are necessarily thought of as inhering in substances. The qualities are qualities of something. But how are we to represent to ourselves this something?

this substance, this substratum of qualities, which, after all, is the real being of the thing. It is not an idea of sensation. As little is it an idea of reflection. Whence then is it obtained? On Locke's principles, there is no room for it at all. No idea, therefore, gave him more trouble. He could neither admit it nor do without it. He could only reiterate that we must suppose a substratum of qualities, though our idea of is quite obscure. Locke is in equal difficulties when he passes to the idea of self, the abiding subject of the mental states. That self exists and abides he has no manner of doubt, but whence the idea comes, he has no means of showing. It is not an idea of sense. It is not an

idea of a mental operation. Starting from Locke's premise that the immediate objects of all knowledge are ideas, he pointed out with perfect logical conclusiveness, that, that the assumption of a second world of variously qualified things outside of and behind the world we know is entirely without justification. How, indeed, he argued, can ideas of the mind be copies of qualities of objects which we supposed to subsist apart from and independently of mind? Is it not the very nature of an idea that it exists only in being perceived? Their essay is perkepe, nor is it possible they should have any existence out of the mind. or thinking things that perceive them.

Especially does Berkeley direct his artillery against the Lockean assumption of substance. Locke had himself admitted that we have no proper idea of this mysterious something, which is made known to us neither by sensation nor by reflection. Berkeley, therefore, justly enough on his premises, swept away these imaginary substances, and with them the world of independently existing objects, and boldly declared that the ideas we perceive by the senses are all the world there is. What we are entitled to infer from their presence is not that there is or can be a world of

permanent objects of which our ideas are images, but that our ideas must have some adequate spiritual cause. And this Berkeley finds in the will of God, who ordains the system of the world in the sense that he causes the ideas to appear in regular series, and in the orderly connection which we call laws of nature. Hume's criticism on this theory or class of theory in turn is, it is too bold ever to carry conviction with it to a man sufficiently apprised of the weakness of human reason, though the chain of arguments which conduct to it were ever so logical,

there must arise a strong suspicion, if not an absolute assurance, that it has carried us quite beyond the reach of our faculties, when it leads to conclusions so extraordinary and so remote from common life and experience. We are got into fairyland, long ere we have reached the last steps of our theory, and there we have no reason to trust our common methods of arguments, as if Hume's own reasonings did not conduct to conclusions extraordinary and remote from common life and experience.

With regard to mind, on the other hand, Berkeley was plainly in a dilemma. Having on Locke's principles discarded substance in the sensible world, it was not obvious how he could, with consistency, retain it in the world of mind. If, however, he could dispense with matter, he as plainly could not dispense with mind as a receptacle of his ideas. And accordingly, at this point, he was compelled to take a step which Locke's principles would not justify. This was to concede what he calls not an idea, but a notion, of a self as the permanent subject of mental acts and states. When in his principles of human knowledge, he extends this mode of knowledge by means of notions to relations. He seems on the

verge of breaking away from Locke's principles altogether. It is now easy, perhaps, to see in a general way how Hume got his starting point and was led to his main conclusions. He adopts, we must believe in good faith, the principles of Locke and Berkeley, and draws them out to their ultimate conclusions. Like these philosophers, he takes it for granted as self-evident that the mind has nothing to work on in knowledge but its own ideas, or as he prefers to call them, perceptions. The details of his system will occupy us after. Meanwhile, it is not difficult to forecast what kind of consequences were bound to follow from his stringent logical procedure. The idea of substance, of course, goes. Berkeley had already banished it from the material world, and Hume as summarily

dismisses it from the world of mind. The bond of identity is cut, and all existence, inner and outer, resolved into a train of impressions and ideas, originating we know not how, and representing nothing but themselves. Objective reality, as we have been accustomed to conceive of it, disappears. There is no self, no external world, no God, nothing but this stream of perishable perceptions. Still, the irresistible conviction of mankind in the existence of the world and self remains as a fact to be accounted for. begins Hume's constructive task, which he seeks to accomplish by showing how association and

custom create a species of union among our ideas which we mistake for an objective one. The real bearing of all this will be better understood when we have examined, as we now proceed to do, the precise nature of Hume's skepticism. Philosophy with Hume, as Ere Long becomes apparent, resolves itself into skepticism. His earliest and most original work represents a vigorous and unsparing attack upon the very foundations of our intelligence, the only object of which seems to be to subvert all rational certainty, and, as Dougal Stewart expressed it, to produce in the reader a complete distrust of his own faculties. His skepticism was more thorough and systematic than that of any who had preceded him. The doubt of Descartes was only prized as it led to a higher certainty,

and the same might be said of the skepticism of Pascal. Hume, on the other hand, never saw to go beyond his doubts, but spent his strength in reducing them to scientific form. Even his professed solutions are avowedly skeptical. Bale had preceded him in the attempt to establish universal skepticism, availing himself for this purpose of the contradictory opinions of different sex, and skillfully attacking the grounds on which special dogmas were assumed to rest. But Hume, to use his own words, marched up directly to the capital and center of the sciences to human nature itself, and sought by capturing that to secure an easy victory.

He labors to divide the mind against itself, and by involving it in inextricable self-contradictions, to shake the ground of all its certitude. There are, however, certain peculiarities of this skepticism of Hume which it will be necessary to examine with greater care, the more that its exact nature has been made the subject of considerable discussion. One question which has been raised is, Did Hume really accept the conclusions of his own system?

The late J.S. Mill, for example, in his examination of Hamilton, broached the peculiar view that Hume's skepticism was simply a thin disguise thrown over his real convictions, intended rather to avoid offense than to conceal his own opinion. He preferred to be called a skeptic rather than by a more odious name and having to promulgate conclusions which he knew would be regarded as contradictory, on the one hand, to the evidence of common sense on the other, to the doctrines of religion, did not like to declare them as positive convictions, but thought it more judicious to exhibit them as the results we might come to if we put complete confidence in the trustworthiness of our

rational faculties. This view of Mills is opposed to that of Sir William Hamilton, who had represented Hume as reasoning from premises, not established by himself, but accepted only as principles universally conceded in the previous schools of philosophy. Mr. Mills's judgment is that Hume seriously accepted both the premises and the conclusions. A narrower inspection may convince us that the truth upon the subject does not lie exclusively with either side. There can be no doubt that whatever may have been Hume's real opinions, his avowed sentiments were those of a skeptic and his reasonings lay all in that direction. He was always ready to plead the privilege of a skeptic, and no doubt correctly interpreted his own state of mind when he wrote,

A true skeptic will be diffident of his philosophical doubts, as well as of his philosophical convictions. On the other hand, it must be conceded to Mr. Mills's view that so far as Hume could allow himself to attain to certainty about anything, he was perfectly serious, both in his philosophical starting point and in the main conclusions to which his reasonings conducted him. He was playing neither with himself nor with his reader. It is thus he would hold, we must think if we are to think philosophically at all. It is difficult to doubt his sincerity and his acceptance of his fundamental position, that the mind has nothing present to it but its own perceptions, or his bona fides in the use he makes of his grand canon, that every idea must be the

copy of a previous impression. He would admit that the same certainty does not attach to all his hypotheses in accounting for the particular beliefs of men. But on the whole, he is satisfied with the explanations he gives, is sure at any rate that if it is not quite thus, it is somehow thus that the thing has come about. We may safely assume that his conviction was as entire as in such a mind it could be, that there is no necessary connection between cause and effect, no substantiality in self or things, no external world apart from our perceptions, no principle stronger than association connecting our ideas. There is not, however, the inconsistency which might be supposed between this appearance of certainty in Hume's convictions and the statements

formerly made as to his skepticism. The true explanation, as was previously pointed out, undoubtedly is that Hume's reasonings, pushed to their issues, had a yet more fatal effect than the overthrow of the beliefs of ordinary common sense. They destroyed the authority of reason itself. Mr. Mill had a difficulty in understanding how Hume, if really a skeptic, could reason so seriously and accurately throughout the course of his main discussions. Does not this, he held, imply a certain faith in the operation of the rational faculty? He overlooked that if Hume's premises and conclusions are accepted, there is no rational faculty left for us to have faith in. In the last result, reason, or what we call such, destroys its own claim to credit.

There is no rational self, no rational instrument which self-employes, only combinations of impressions and ideas engendered through association and custom. If it is still argued that this is incompatible with the evident earnestness which Hume shows in reasoning out his conclusions, the answer is furnished by Hume himself. In the treatise of human nature, he has expressly met this objection, and, as the passage casts perhaps a stronger light on the real spirit of that book than any other, we make no apology for quoting it. If the skeptical reasonings be strong, they say, tis a proof that reason may have some force and authority. If weak, they can never be sufficient to invalidate all the conclusions

of our understanding. The argument is not just. Reason first appears in possession of the throne, prescribing laws and imposing maxims with an absolute sway of authority. Her energy therefore is obliged to take shelter under her protection, and by making use of rational arguments to prove the fallaciousness and imbecility of reason, produces in a manner a patent under her own hand and seal. This patent has at first an authority proportioned to the present and immediate authority of reason, from which it is derived. But as it is supposed contradictory to reason, it gradually diminishes the force of the governing power, and its own at the same time. till at last they both vanish away into nothing by a regular and just diminution.

It requires considerable faith after this to believe that Hume put complete confidence in the trustworthiness of our rational faculty, as Mr. Mill has little doubt that he did. Mr. Mill is certainly an error when he affirms that any intimations to the contrary are found only in a few detached passages in a single essay, that on the academic or skeptical philosophy. The treatise of human nature abounds with them, in the enquiry, no doubt, in harmony with the moral purpose of his philosophy, to clear the way for an easy, humane, and obvious treatment of moral subjects by removing the abstruse philosophy forever from the field. Hume tries to soften the impression of the earlier work by toning down his skepticism to a very considerable extent. He still advocates skepticism, but more by insinuation than assertion. And the skepticism is of a mitigated kind.

In all essential respects, however, the main principles of the two words are their same. In both, Pyrinism holds the field so far as reason is concerned, though Hume in the inquiry affects to jest at its curious researches and to temper its excess of doubt by appeal to natural instinct. But even in the treatise, it is not pretended that the skepticism of reason can maintain itself against the non-rational force of instinct. The very contrary. It is happy, he says, in the conclusion of the passage above quoted.

Therefore, that nature breaks the force of all skeptical arguments in time and keeps them from having any considerable influence on the understanding. Were we to trust entirely to their self-destruction, that can never take place, until they have first subverted all conviction and have totally destroyed human reason. Thus, the skeptic still continues to reason and believe, even though he asserts that he cannot defend his reason by reason. And later, this skeptical doubt, both with respect to reason and the senses, is a malady which can never be radically cured,

but must return upon us every moment. However, we may chase it away, and sometimes may seem entirely free from it. It is impossible upon any system to defend either our understanding or our senses, and we but expose them further when we endeavor to portray them in that manner. As the skeptical doubt arises naturally from a profound and intense reflection on those subjects, it always increases the further we carry our reflections, whether in opposition or conformity to it. Carelessness and inattention alone can afford us any remedy.

Beyond this, Hume never got at any way. stage. This indeed is one feature and main point in his skepticism. To show that what our reason constrains us to regard as false and contradictory, our natural instincts compel us to believe and act upon as true. He does not deny us the luxury of believing in an external world, in the soul, in the necessary connection of causes and effects. He only shows that we have no reasonable ground for so doing. That reason is diametrically opposed to such belief. Practically things remain as they are. Theoretically, they are subverted. The skeptical arguments like those of Berkeley admit of no answer and produce no conviction, only when we venture to transcend the

range of common experience and begin to think or speak of such far more important subjects as God, immortality, providence, creation, destiny. Does Hume bring in his doubt to show us that such sublime topics are entirely beyond our reach? Are, in fact, as excellent. exercises of mind, extravagant and ridiculous. This is indeed the great use of his philosophy to scare us from these abstruse studies by revealing to us the incapacity and fallibility of the mind that proposes to deal with them. The worst effect of a skepticism like Humes is that it must inevitably react to vitiate the mind that indulges in it and to unfit that mind for earnest dealing with any subject whatever. It destroys the power of close and patient investigation for

the sake of the truth itself. All throughout, the reader is sensible of this defect in the works of Hume. In his later writings, especially, we are made to feel, as compared with his earlier, a growing want of strictness in method, and the absence of a fresh interest in the subjects of which he treats. On the other hand, we mark an increased elegance of style, and a more concise and effective presentation of his separate ideas. Hume's skepticism particularly unfitted him for doing justice to men whose minds were possessed by warm and earnest convictions in regard to the unseen, and whose lives were actuated by correspondingly high motives. To enter into the ideas and experiences of such men was utterly beyond his power. His two ready categories here are superstition and

enthusiasm, and to one or other of these every inexplicable phenomenon in the moral and religious history of mankind is unhesitatingly referred. Hume forgets that if practical instincts have validity, in the lower sphere, they are no less necessary and valid in the higher. Men need convictions in regard to the ideal and unseen, quite as much as in reference to the scene and temporal. A skepticism, like Humes, is, as he rightly says, incurable. Diffidence in regard to the operations of intelligence in difficult and recondite subjects is one thing. Distrust of the principles on which all truth and certainty depend is another. It is useless to ask in Hume's philosophy, whether or not.

the error may not lie in the road by which conclusions have been reached, and whether another line of reasoning might not correct that error and put us in the path of truth. The very asking of that question implies the supposition of and comparison with a realm of truth, to which our faculty stand in relation and within which the discovery and recognition of truth is believed to be possible. Such a conception of a rationally constituted universe to which reason in man stands in essential relation is precisely what Hume's philosophy excludes. It is not considered that the very fact that man can conceive of such a region of truth, even so far as to be at the trouble of denying the power of the mind to reach it, is itself a proof of his existence. For the mind that can deny

rationality in the universe, in the very act of its doing so, proclaims itself rational, and the universe as well. End of Chapter 5. Recording by Will Rodriguez. Chapter 6 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is the Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org, read by Chris Page DeKal. David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr. Chapter 6

Hume and the first principles of knowledge There is abundant evidence that Hume regarded himself as an original discoverer in philosophy. He speaks repeatedly and complacently of my system. He is confident that he has succeeded where others had failed in establishing the theory of human nature upon a just foundation. It has now to be asked whether his own contributions to the doctrine of knowledge will prove more permanent than those of his predecessors, the weather as he wrote to Hutchison, that in a cool hour

he was apt to suspect most of his reasonings, quote, will be found more useful in furnishing hints and awakening curiosity than as containing principles that will augment the stock of knowledge that must pass to future rages. The basis of Hume's system is laid in his chapters on the origin of ideas. Here he connects himself with Locke, but with significant changes of nomenclature. Locke had used ideas as the general designation for all mental acts and states. The name Hume uses for the same purpose is perceptions.

A designation in every way is open to criticism. Locke had no distinction of terms for an idea in its first vivid appearance in the mind and its subsequent parlour reproduction in memory and imagination. Hume, with more precision, distinguishes his perceptions into two kinds, impressions and ideas. The original element in knowledge is the impression, under which he includes all our sensations, passions, passions and emotions. The impression is given with her force and liveliness and consciousness peculiar to itself. Ideas are the fainter copies of these impressions in memory and imagination.

In memory the impressions retain a considerable portion of their original vivacity. In imagination, they are less forcible and vivid, and appear in new combinations. Imagination is thus with Hume, as with Hobbes, nothing more than a decaying sense. The next point is to prove that we have no idea which is not copied from some previous impression. Humor juices two arguments. First, we have only to analyze our thoughts, however complex, to find that they always resolve themselves into such simple ideas as are copied from a precedent feeling or sentiment.

This, however, is plainly not an argument in the proper sense at all, but merely an assertion of the point to be proved. Second, if we find a man who, through a defect in the organ, is not susceptible of any particular impression, he is always found to be as little susceptible of the corresponding idea. This may be granted in regard to sensible ideas, but the question is, are these our only ones? Hume is not unaware that his first argument is very much a begging of the question. He therefore adds,

Those who would assert that the position is not universally true have only one, and that a very easy method of refuting it, by producing that idea which in their opinion is not derived from that source. This last remark might have suggested to Hume the illegitimacy of his whole procedure, before we are competent to sit in judgment upon the origin of our ideas it is necessary to come to some distinct understanding as to their nature what are these ideas of whose origins we speak are they such as can be ascribed to one source granted that some of them may have their origin in the senses are there not others whose peculiar features demand for them a nobler origin as hume leaves the matter the way is obviously open to vast assumptions he has not really proved that every idea is a copy of a previous impression, but has only thrown the onus of proof on those who differ from him. Yet, as if he had satisfactorily established his main position, he immediately proceeds to erect it into a universal test.

When we entertain, therefore, he says, any suspicion that a philosophical term is employed without any meaning or idea, as is too frequent, we need but inquire from what impression is that supposed ideas derived. No philosopher was ever more peremptory or a priori. than Hume in the application of this rule of thumb method of no impression, no idea. It is not difficult to see how readily on this principle the mind may be despoiled of most of its richest possessions. In one important respect, Hume is more consistent than Locke, and rather resembles his French contemporary condolac. Locke had distinguished between ideas of sensation and ideas of reflection, resting his distinction on the contrast of ideas received from without

and ideas received from within, but he more logically perceived that without and within are assumptions we are not entitled to make at starting. All impressions, he tells us in one place, are internal and perishing existences, and appear as such. Reflection, therefore, is no separate source of ideas. Locke indeed evades this consequence, but only by an inconsistency. He assumes, as the receptacle of his sensations, a mind, well furnished with active faculty, each working according to its own laws on the material provided to it from without. Yet there is nothing innate. Leibniz well replied, Nisi Intellectus Ipsi.

Data empiricism, therefore, has done well to dismiss the second source of ideas altogether, and to try to get on as best it can with simple sensations. But in point of fact, no empiricists, not even Hume himself, adheres consistently to this original position. Hume is forced to fall back continually on certain original principles which, as permanent factors in our experience and conditions of it, constitute an original mind of a meagre sort, which, however, he never distinctly accounts for. Such, for instance, are his principles of association, and the principle of custom of which he

afterwards makes so large a use. These principles of association are, it must be allowed, something of a mystery in Hume. At times they appear as original principles of their mind, or of human nature. At other times, they figure as mysterious powers of attraction between impressions and ideas themselves. Here is a kind of attraction, he says, which in the mental world will be found to have

as extraordinary effects as in the natural. How attraction can arise between ideas which, on his hypotheses, are entirely separate and in perpetual flux and movement, is far from obvious. The essential assumptiveness of Hume's philosophy receives much stronger illustration if we observe the very great liberty with which, while professing to start only with impressions and ideas, Hume constantly allows himself in the use of ordinary terminology of mind.

He disavows, indeed, any assumption as to the origin of impressions. These arise in the soul, he tells us, from unknown causes. But, as the words quoted show, he does not disavow in the same way a mind or soul as the seat of these impressions. On the contrary, he continually, and in so many words, takes his existence and operations for granted, endows it with faculties, furnishes it with original principles, ascribes to it powers of comparison and reasoning, concedes to it ideas of relation, under guise of personal pronouns, I, we, etc, makes unceasing drafts on its activity. This peculiarity is so marked, and so much depends on it for the right understanding of Hume's philosophy,

that space may profitably be spared for a few examples. quote, I first make myself certain by a new review of what I have already asserted that every simple impression is attended by a corresponding idea. I immediately conclude that there is a great connection between our correspondent impressions and ideas. Quote, of this impression there is a copy taken by the mind which remains after the impression ceases. The faculty by which we repeat our impressions in the first manner is called the memory. and the other the imagination. Quote, the liberty of the imagination to transpose and change its ideas. Quote, whenever the imagination perceives a difference among ideas.

Quote, nothing would be more unaccountable than the operation of that faculty, were it not guided by some universal principles, which render it and some measure uniform with itself in all times and places. Quote, the qualities from which this association arises, and by which the mind is after this manner conveyed from one idea to another. Quote, that particular circumstance in which, even apart from the arbitrary union of two ideas in the fancy, we may think proper to compare them. Quote, when we have found a resemblance among several objects that often occur to us,

we apply the same name to all of them, whatever differences we may perceive in the degrees of their quality and quantity. quote, one would think the whole intellectual world of ideas was at once subjected to our view, and that we did nothing but pick out such as were the most proper for our purpose. There may not, however, be any present beside those very ideas that are thus collected by a kind of magical faculty in the soul. Quote, we begin to distinguish the figure from the colour by a distinction of reason. Quote, identity is merely a quality which we attribute to perceptions because of the union of their ideas in the imagination when we reflect on them. If it is reply that this employment of current ideas and phraseology on the part of Hume is merely an accommodation to popular speech

till the system is sufficiently advanced to show how these ideas can be dispensed with, the answer is that it is only by the assumption of these ideas that the system is able to get underway at all, and that, without their help, it could not present even a momentary appearance of plausibility. Suppose, for instance, we hold Hume strictly to his impression. ideas, and ask the question, how does he know that his ideas are faint copies of previous impressions as he tells us they are? What answer could he give? The two, to be compared, must have been present at some point in consciousness together, but the impression X hypothesis has vanished before the idea comes upon the scene. When the comparison is made, there is nothing present but

the assumed copy. What then yields the knowledge of its resemblance to the impression, or what, or who, is to make the comparison between them. If it is said that the memory retains the image of the past impression, this is only to repeat that a faint idea is present, which, for some reason unknown, we take to be a copy of a former lively state. And the lively state is now known to us only through the idea. But the same difficulty recurs in regard to memory itself. Memory differs from imagination, Hume tells us, not only in the livelier character of its

ideas but in the fact that it is tied down to the same order and form as the original impression. This, it may be remarked, to begin with, is in no way a complete account of memory. In memory, an image is not only given, but is recognised as the image of a past event or experience. It is connected with an idea of past time, and it is accompanied by belief in the fidelity of the representation. But in the next place, the theory leaves us entirely in the dark as to how we become aware that the image in memory represents the order and form of a past experience. Belief with Hume is simply a lively idea related to or associated with a present impression. But the mere liveliness of an idea is surely no guarantee that it is an accurate

copy of a past and now vanished impression, nor is a solution possible on Hume's principles. The real and only key to the possibility of recall in memory is a persistence of the self, which Hume ignores. The self, which is one and the same throughout, knows the acts which it images to itself as its own acts. With this has to be taken the fact that in no case is memory the mere reproduction of a sense impression. Even in perception, as well appear later, the impression has passed into the form of thought, has become fixed in permanent relations, and so is preserved in its abiding character as knowledge. These considerations open the way for a more fundamental criticism of Hume's positions.

It has just been seen that Hume's theory has not gone far before it has involved itself in considerable difficulties, rendering necessary not only the borrowing of a number of new principles, but a somewhat abundant use of the terminology of personal consciousness. The crucial question that now arises is, is this construction of knowledge without a conscious thinking principle to unite and combine the various parts of that knowledge possible? Both read and can't assailed the account given by Hume

Hume of the nature of knowledge. They took up the challenge to produce an idea which has not its prototype in a sense and pressure, and showed that equality attaches to many of our ideas and judgments for which the theory of Hume, or any theory which traces all our knowledge to sensation, can never adequately account. But Kant had a deeper way of attacking the problem. He goes back from the nature to the more fundamental question of the possibility of knowledge, and lays down as self-evident the proposition that there can be no knowledge of any kind except on the supposition of a principle of synthesis and consciousness, of a relation of impressions and ideas to use Hume's phrase to a central self. The, I think, in his own words, accompanies all my

representations. We may illustrate this by remark of Mr. J.S. Mills on the ultimate nature of belief in memory. Our belief in the veracity of memory, that writer says, is evidently ultimate. No reason can be given for it which does not presuppose the belief and assume. it to be well founded. This involves an important principle. That is ultimate in knowledge for which no reason can be given which does not presuppose the thing to be explained. Now what Mr Mill here grants to be true of memory, Kant shows to be true of all sensible experience. There are certain things involved in it which can never be explained by the experience, because the experience itself presupposes them. And most fundamental of all is this condition that impressions can only become

impressions for me if they exist together in a common self-consciousness. I know a thing in consciousness only if I relate it with the other elements of consciousness to myself. Self-consciousness, in other words, with all that it involves, is an ultimate fact, and any attempt to explain it by the chemistry of association is a case of circled reasoning of the most glaring kind. It will be obvious that this principle, if admitted, is fatal to Hume's whole theory of the origin of knowledge. A train of impressions and ideas. But how do we know them as a train? A bundle or collection of different perceptions?

But what holds the bundle together or knows it as a bundle? The perceptions are on Hume's showing in perpetual flux and movement. Each, at the most, knows itself in the single moment of its existence and knows nothing of the others. One perception has vanished before another appears. What holds the vanished members of the series? in knowledge and now represents the whole as a succession. Single impressions and ideas are one thing, the idea of a succession, is another. Applying Hume's canon to it, we may ask, from what impression is it derived?

But it has already been seen that Hume does not succeed in dispensing with this relating principle. The we thrusts in its head at every point in his expositions, engaged in the most essential operations. We make a review of the facts of consciousness, we compare ideas, we perceive, resemblances and difference. We reflect on experiences and draw conclusions. When we have found a resemblance, we give names. Take away the implied self from these operations and what is left of them. On this first rock, therefore, Hume's philosophy, with every other which rests on a like empirical basis, is already irretrievably shattered. But this first step in the criticism of Hume's theory leads immediately to a second. It has hitherto been assumed, in accordance with Hume's principles,

that impressions and ideas are something wholly subjective, internal perishing existences. On psychological grounds, however, this position also must be pronounced untenable. The I, or self, viewed as the principle of relation among the elements of consciousness is, after all, only an abstraction. The I never subsists in consciousness by itself without relation to something else, which it distinguishes from itself as object. In playing terms, as thinkers of all schools are now one, agreed, there is no subject consciousness which has not as its invariable counterpart and object

consciousness. This is a fact which evidently deserves careful attention. In both the primary and the secondary qualities of Locke, we found that, however, legitimately on his principles, there was involved a reference to an outward world. But this answers to the fact of consciousness itself. From the first dawn of conscious life, the subject and the object consciousness grow up together. is, as Kant again showed, no uniting together of the elements of personal consciousness, which has not, as it's correlate, the uniting of other elements in that consciousness in the form of an objective experience. This raises more definitely the question, what precisely is meant by an object? Here we come on another fundamental ambiguity in Hume's system. Hume can as little

dispense with the idea of the object as with the idea of the self. His page is team with references to objects, of which we are assumed to have knowledge. But two things here require to be distinguished, which human his philosophy as constantly confounds. One is the order or succession of impressions and ideas within the mind, the subjective succession. The other is the order or succession of the phenomena in nature, the objective succession. The order of succession in consciousness is, of course, in part determined by the order in nature. For example, I hear the report of a gun and observe a birdfall. Still it is evident that the current of my thoughts is one thing, and that the order of events in nature is another, and there is no necessary correspondence between them.

When we speak of an objective order, as we'll be seen more clearly later, we mean by it's something which we definitely distinguish from our own thoughts, which has a connection, coherence and progress of its own, determined by its own laws, which exists in at least relative independence of our knowledge of it. And the important fact to be observed is that when we speak of object, it is this external order of nature, not the internal succession which we have in view. For me to speak of a thing as an object means that I place it definitely in this system or order which I distinguish from myself. That I regard it as having its fixed place and coherence in that order, as set in determinate relations with the other parts of the order, as connected with it in what goes before and what comes after, in short as belonging to it, and not to the course of my individual thoughts. It is, as we shall come to see, by habitually confounding two orders, and by illegitimately passing from one to the other in his reasonings, that Hume is able to persuade himself that he has solved the problem of causation by custom,

and can even imagine, in the end of his treaties, that he explains by association how the fiction of the idea of an independently existing a world is arrived at. Kant's answer to Hume on this, as on the other point then, is that an objective consciousness, or idea of an objective system, is already implied in the possession of the subject consciousness from which Hume would derive it, and that the essential principles which go to constitute that object consciousness, must be furnished by reason itself, since they antecede experience, and are the conditions of its possibility.

Thus far, Kant, we take it, is irrefutable. But he laid himself open to criticism equally with Hume, when he held that these principles which we employ in knowledge are only principles of our own thought and not principle as constitutive of the world itself. This, however, opens up questions which belong to a later part of our investigation. One important result which accrues from these inquiries is that the object is given only in relations and therefore can never be, as Lockhart Hume would have it, a mere datum of sense. There is at least the act by which I relate to myself in consciousness,

but there are also the acts by which I relate it to the other objects of the world of which it forms part, through which, in fact, I constitute it object. This indeed is what is properly called knowledge, not the passive reception of impressions, but the apprehension of objects under their permanent relations. This leads as a third test of Hume's theory to a glance at his doctrine of relations. Kant, it is well known,

analysed the relations through which our knowledge is constituted into two groups, forms of intuition and categories of the understanding. The first condition of the knowledge of objects in an outward world is that I apprehend them under the forms of space and time. Then I cognize and unite them through the understanding under such categories as unity and plurality, substance and accident, cause and effect. It will be sufficient here to keep to the list of relations which Hume himself gives. It may easily be shown that the admission of ideas of relation of any kind, and Hume admits no fewer than seven heads of them, resemblance, identity, space and time, quantity and number,

degree, contraryity, cause and effect, is irreconcilable with the primary assumptions of his theory. In the first place, a relation implies two terms, and a comparison between them which gives rise to the idea, and therefore it is unthinkable except on the supposition of relating principles, such as has been seen to be implied in all knowledge. And in the next place, an idea of relation is not, and for this very reason, cannot be, an idea of sense. It is not the copy of a sense impression, but it is the product of an intellectual act. We have just seen, besides, that relations play a much larger part in the continuation of our knowledge than human allowed. Every object has given its relations as the condition of its being known at all. It exists in relations, and through relations is known to be what it is.

In strictness it may be said that the object is much more an object of the understanding than it ever was of sense. It will be seen after how this bears on the philosophy of perception. It may now be shown that the admission of such a list of relations as human gives involves problems of origin, on his principles are incapable of solution. It has been stated above that both Reed and Kant took exception to Hume's account of the origin of ideas, not only on the ground that certain of these ideas are involved in all possible knowledge, but likewise because they have a character of their own which bars us from attributing to them in origin and sense. Such is the quality of universality and necessity which attaches to many of our own ideas and judgments,

as, for example, to our ideas of space and time and number, and to the mathematical sciences based on these of cause and effect, of substance and accident. Here then is another crucial test for Hume's system, the account it has to give of this peculiarity and part of our knowledge. We leave out of consideration for the present the ideas of cause and substance and confine ourselves to the fundamental ideas of space and time. This is a test case for Hume, as for the schools descended from him, and it need not be said that he entirely fails to show the origin of these ideas from sense impression,

It is not that he does not make the attempt. He discusses the ideas of space and time at great length and with much ingenuity in his treatise. They are, for him, no separate and distinct ideas, but merely those of the manner or order in which bodies exist. As it is from the disposition of visible and tangible objects we receive the idea of space, so from the succession of ideas and impressions we form the idea of time. Precisely, but it is strange it did not occur to so acute a reasoner that to derive the idea of space, from the manner or order in which visible and tangible objects are disposed, or the idea of time from the succession of impressions and ideas, is simply under a change of phraseology to derive these ideas from themselves.

The distinct ideas sought for are already implied in the expressions used. For the manner or order of the disposition of visible and tangible bodies means simply their arrangement in a particular manner in space, and the succession of impressions and ideas mean simply that they are cognised as one after another in time. On this latter point, Reid aptly remarks in his criticism of Locke that it would be more proper to derive the idea of succession from that of duration than vice versa, because succession presupposes duration and can in no sense be prior to it. Time, in other words, as Kant showed more thoroughly, is already implied in all apprehension of succession,

and to derive the former from the latter is a case of the old fallacy of explaining a thing by itself. It is not otherwise with the attempts to derive the idea of space from the perception of distance or extension, as if distance were anything else than spatial remoteness or extension, partes, extra-partes, could be defined except in terms of space. Mr. Mill says in one place, whatever else we may suppose removed, there always remains the conception of empty space. If this is so, space is a distinct and necessary idea, and is not to be confused with the idea of the extension of material objects which are in space. A favourite device of a certain school of psychologists

has been to derive the idea of space from that of time. Dr Thomas Brown did his best to explain in this way the genesis of the ideas of space and extension, and his efforts in this direction were heartily seconded by the two mills earned later by Mr. Bean. Even if the attempt had been as successful, as it was really the reverse, it would still have left the idea of time to be explained.

Canned, in truth, had already met by anticipation this attempt of the association school to confound the ideas of space and time by deriving the one from the other. So far he argued, are we from deriving the idea of space from that of time, that we can only picture the latter to our imagination through an image of the former. We figure duration to ourselves as a drawn-out line. Hume's boldness in deriving all our ideas from sense impressions reaches its culmination in his attempts to explain in this manner even the pure ideas of geometry, algebra and arithmetic. This, while conceding that the relations involved in these ideas are intuitively or demonstratively certain.

Gant remarks that if Hume had only considered this point as careful as he did the fact of causation, he would have been saved from many of his conclusions. He came nearest of all philosophers to a solution of the great problem, but failed because it never acquired in his mind sufficient precision, nor did he regard the question in its universality. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr. Hume on cause and effects, free will. Hume's theory may be said to concentrate itself in his doctrine of cause and effect. He himself doubtless felt this to be the strongest and most original part of his system, and in the later edition of his philosophy he spared no pains in perfecting it. Viewed as a carrying out of his principles to their legitimate issues,

his reasonings have all the force of demonstration. They end by depriving the notion of cause and effect of all real values, It is merely in Hamilton's terse description, quote, the offspring of experience engendered on custom, end quote. In a familiar passage, Hume divides all objects of knowledge into two classes, relations of ideas and matters of facts. Relations of ideas yield us knowledge which is either intuitively or demonstrably search. In regard to matters effect, on the other hand, the one relation which carries us beyond the experience we have and gives us new knowledge, is that of cause and effect. A priori argument avails us nothing here.

Our knowledge of everything that lies beyond the immediate impression of sense must be deduced by a longer or shorter train of reasoning through this single principle of causation. of causation. If therefore the spiller of the House of Knowledge is overthrown, the whole edifice of our reasonings in regard to matters of fact is brought to the ground. To show, accordingly, that this is how the case actually stands with respect to causation, that there is in reality no rational basis for our belief in the connection of causes and effects, nor any necessary principle connecting the phenomena we so denominate is the end to which Hume applies himself with all his force. He has to show, first, that the ordinary belief in cause and effect

is without rational justification, and second, what the real origin and nature of this belief is. The first point to be established is that the relation of causes and effect is that the relation of causes and effects is one which is discoverable only by experience. Reason can furnish us with no aid in determining what particular effects will follow from particular causes. No man, E.G. could predict, prior to experience, that fire would burn, or water, drown him. This must of course be admitted, it, but it has often been pointed out that it evades the real question at issue. This is not whether, before experience, we can tell what particular effects will follow from particular causes, but whether, either before experience or after it, we can believe that

any change or event will ever happen without some cause. There is an obvious distinction between A cause and the cause. This Hume must admit, for he afterwards assumes that it is possible to strip the causal judgment of its original particularity and erect it into a universal principle. Footnote This no doubt in Hume's case is an inconsistency. First, his doctrine allows no place for epicester. abstract or general ideas, so leaves no room for general principles deduced from particular instances.

And, two, the utmost his theory of association will yield him, is that antecedents, similar to those observed, might be supposed to have similar consequence, not that there is a necessary relation between antecedents and consequence generally, and a footnote. What we have found to be true of particular cases, we come to assume will be true of all others. But if we can thus universalize our judgments, then we are able to affirm that there must be a cause even where we are ignorant of what it is. The knowledge of causes and effects being thus traced solely to experience, the question which next arises is, what is there inexperience that can generate this idea?

When it is asked, says Hume, what is the nature of all our reasonings concerning matters of fact, the proper answer seems to be that they are founded on the relation of cause and effect. When again it is asked, what is the foundation of all our reasoning and conclusions concerning that relation? It may be replied in one word, experience. But if we still carry on our sifting humor and ask, what is the foundation of all our conclusions from experience? This implies a new question which may be of more difficult solution and explication and There are several difficulties to be got over. 1.

Experience gives us only, quote unquote, loose and separate events, but the relation of cause and effect is supposed to be that of necessary connection. 2. Experience gives us information of those precise objects only which fall under our cognizance. but this does not explain why we should extend this experience to other and different objects. 3. Experience relates only to what has been observed in the past, but the inference from cause and effect is extended into the future. We always presume, he says, when we see like sensible qualities

that they have like secret powers and expect that effects similar to those which we have experienced, will follow from them. Now, this is a process of the mind of which I would willingly know the foundation, end quote. Hume then shows that this inference from the past to the future, however it is to be explained, is not founded on any process of argument. These two propositions are far from being the same. I have found that such an object has always been attended with such an effect, and I foresee that other objects which are in appearance similar will be attended with similar effects. If the inference is made by reasoning, there should be some middle term which connects the two judgments, but this of course can never be produced.

He concludes, therefore, with perfect justice, the uniformity of the operation of causes and effects, which would enable us to infer the future from the past, can never be proved by argument. It may be questioned, however, whether Hume is not here chargeable with another confusion, besides that of constantly identifying the question of a cause with that of some particular cause. He rightly assumes that when we find a cause in nature, we expect it to operate uniformly.

The idea of a cause, nevertheless, is not quite the same as that of the uniform operation of the cause. I say then, he himself remarks, that even after we have experience of the operations of cause and effect, our conclusions from that experience are not founded on reasonings, end quote. The experience of the operation of fact, causes then precedes and is distinct from the discovery that they operate uniformly.

The distinction may be perceived if we reflect on the phenomena of volition, or think of that crude stage in the history of mankind, when effects in nature are ascribed to the volition of living agents. Here there is causation, but it is conceived of as capricious and irregular. The ground of our expectation of uniformity in the operation of causes will be investigated later. The main difficulty Hume has to encounter is the apparent existence of an quote-unquote idea of necessary connection in the causal judgment. He treats of this in a separate essay, but it is really the same question as he had previously before him. We infer that the future in natural operations will resemble the past because we have already somehow come to believe in the

necessary connection of events. The gist of Hume's theory lies, therefore, in the explanation he has to give of this idea of necessary connection. He first shows that no such necessary connection is implied in anything given directly by observation. He easily refutes Locke's touch, that we receive the idea from sensation and reflection. What we observe is simply constant succession or constant conjunction of a supposed bond or connection between events, the experience of the senses can teach us nothing. Footnote, quote,

All events seem entirely loose and separate. One event follows another, but we can never observe any tie between them. they seem conjoined but never connected." End quote. Add a footnote. He argues with great force that the idea cannot be derived

even from the consciousness of our acts of volition. His arguments on this point are in part valid against Man de Beran and others of the French school who adopt this explanation and against Mansell, who supposes that we transfer the idea of a cause gained from the power of the will over its own determinations to beings and objects generally.

We do know ourselves as spiritual causes, but this recognition already implies the idea of causation, and the legitimacy of the transference of the idea to nature and universalizing of it is not obvious. Failing every other explanation, therefore Hume, back on custom, in which he claims to find the solution of the problem. When we have had frequent experience of similar conjunctions of events, a connection between the two is firmly established in the mind.

The presence of the one event naturally suggests the idea of its usual attendant, and leads us to expect it. This tie, which is purely a connection between our own ideas, formed by association, we transfer to the objects and think of it as existing between them. Footnote, quote, necessity is something that exists in the mind, not in the objects, and quote, and a footnote. Briefly expressed, therefore, the idea of necessary connection among events is the result of custom and association uniting their ideas firmly in the mind.

The mere fact of one event following another in a single instance or in a few instances would not of itself beget the idea of causation. But when of two events one is found constantly following the other, an association is formed which creates a firm connection in idea and brings it about that the appearance of the one invariably suggests the idea of the other. In the vividness of conception, with which the mind is carried from the one idea to the other, consists the nature of belief. With delightful naivety, Hume points out how this tendency is confirmed

when we find that the actual order of the world is conformable to the train of our thoughts and imaginations, and speaks of this as a, quote, kind of pre-established harmony between the course of nature and the succession of our ideas." This searching examination of the validity of the causal idea was, as everyone now acknowledges, productive of the best results in philosophy. First, like Hume's other speculations,

it showed men clearly what were the legitimate consequences of certain principles, and second, it prompted them to a reinvestigation of the whole question. For it did not require a great degree of acumen to perceive that the explanation offered by Hume was far from covering all the facts. It labors under the radical defects of seeking to account for an idea, the nature and characteristics of which have never been sufficiently examined. Hume does not begin with a careful analysis of what is involved in the notion of cause, but proceeds at once. to demand the impression from which the idea is derived. He admits that there is a necessary connection to be taken into account.

But instead of first examining the nature of this necessity and then asking, as Kant did, how such an idea of necessary connection is possible, he forecloses discussion by the assumption that if the idea is not copied from a sensible impression, it can have no meaning or validity. As a preliminary criticism on the theory, a remark may be made on the peculiar place which Hume gives to the principle of custom in connection with it. It is difficult to know how precisely Hume conceives of this principle in relation to the general principles of association, whether it is supposed to be distinct or is regarded as only a special case of the latter. At all events it is described by him in terms which imply that it itself operates as a true cause or force in the mind determining the connection of ideas.

The passage is instructive, quote, By employing that word, custom, we pretend not to have given the ultimate reason of such a propensity. We only point out a principle of human nature. which is universal acknowledged and which is well known by its effects. Perhaps we can push our inquiries no further or pretend to give the cause of this cause, but must rest contented with it as the ultimate principle, which we can assign of all our conclusions from experience, end quote.

That is to say, in order to make out that causation has no real existence, Hume is compelled to assume a principle of causation, operating in the very way he proposes to get rid of. Cusation is to mean strictly nothing but constant conjunction of antecedent and consequent. But in order to explain how we come to have a feeling of necessary connection between these two, he presupposes a cause which is not an antecedent, but a quote-unquote, ultimate principle of mind, determining the connection of ideas. He disproves causation by the help of a principle of causation, shows the idea to be a fiction by means of a hypothesis which assumes its reality.

Similar in effect is his continual use of language, which implies the reality of, quote, power, force, influence, determination, necessity, at the very moment when he is endeavoring to disprove that the mind has any such ideas. To see how far Hume's theory comes short of an adequate explanation of the ordinary notion of cause and effect, we may begin by quoting two passages from his writings on the nature of this relation. We suppose, he says, that there is some connection between them, some power in the one by which it infallibly produces the other, and operates with the greatest certainty and strongest necessity, end quote.

Again, quote, when we consider the unknown circumstance in one object by which the degree or quantity of its effect is fixed and determined, we call that its power, end quote. It is implied in these statements that the idea of cause and effect is, as already seen, one, that of a necessary connection, two, that of an objective relation, and three, involves the idea of power. Subsequent speculators, who have impugned the doctrine of Hume, have assailed it mainly either on the first of these grounds, showing that the confessed necessity inherent in the relation,

could never be engendered by custom, or on the second, showing that custom and association could never account for the idea of a quote-unquote fixed and determined order of nature. On the other hand, the association school have substantially adopted and defended the doctrine of Hume, Mr. Mill, e.g., resolutely upholding it, in his examination of Hamilton, under the name of quote-unquote inseparable association for Hume's quote-unquote custom. An intermediate position was occupied by Dr. Thomas Brown, who, while adopting Hume's view, so far as it denied the objective connection of events, yet differed strongly from Hume, and the power of custom to generate belief in the uniformity of nature.

On this latter point, Brown has left many acute remarks, but his own theory is not much better than the one he criticizes. Power, he says, is nothing more than invariableness of antecedents, end quote. This, however, is a simple question of fact. Do men really mean no more than Brown asserts when they speak of power? They mean surely by it, not only that one event follows another, has always followed it and will always do so in the future, but that one object or event exercises a determining influence on another, has an efficacy in producing change in the other. This element Brown entirely leaves out. He resolves the idea of cause into that of uniformity.

of nature, and, after showing that custom could never account for our belief in that uniformity, calls in an ultimate principle to explain the latter, as if that principle were not itself a cause in the rejected sense. Hume is more consistent in the description he gives of power, but likewise holds the idea to be a figment, because copied from no impression. The idea of power, however, which has its root for us in the consciousness of voluntary energy, is not to be thus summarily got rid of. Not to speak of modern systems which find the principle of existence even more in quote-unquote will than in quote-unquote idea, Schopenhauer Hartmann,

and of the preponderate place occupied by the ideas of force and energy in modern science, it is surely a most curious inversion of Hume's position that our latest quote-unquote positive philosophy should be found basing its whole interpretation of nature and mind on the idea of unknowable quote-unquote power. The objection to Hume on the ground of the necessity of the causal judgment has been urged by Kant, in connection with his general theory of knowledge, by Reed, Hamilton, and many others,

and is the favorite argument of those who adhere to what is called the Intuitional School. Custom, it is pointed out, cannot explain the quality of necessity in the causal judgment. It is a judgment we make, apparently, as soon as reflection commences, and not a single fact can be adduced to show that it increases in strength as time goes on. footnote. Here again, cause is not to be offhand identified with uniformity of nature, as to which our knowledge is clarified and strengthened by experience, but no change is ever held to be causeless, and a footnote. It is also a judgment we make universally. It extends to all new events,

as well as to those which have been previously observed. Now, as Hamilton remarks, Allow the forces of custom to be as great as may be, it is always limited to the customary, and the customary has nothing whatever in it of the necessary. But we have here to account not for a strong, but for an absolutely irresistible belief. And quote, footnote.

The matter, however, it seems to us, is wrongly put when rested on subjective, necessity of belief. The necessity rather lies in the nature of the truth or principle, which shines in the light of its own rational self-evidence. And a footnote. The reply of the empirical school to this is that, quote-unquote, inseparable association has the power of engendering, quote-unquote, irresistible belief, i.e. of creating a feeling equivalent, to necessity. Mr. Spencer adds hereditary transmission of acquired beliefs as giving them enhanced strength. The difficulties of this explanation, however, become insuperable if we take into account the very

stringent limits within which, by admission of the advocates of the theory, the principle of association can operate to generate an irresistible belief. The phenomenon, Mr. Mill says, must be so closely united to our experience that we never perceive the one without at the same time or at the immediately succeeding moment perceiving the other, end quote. Again, quote, no frequency of conjunction between two phenomena

will create an inseparable association if counter-associations are being created all the while." But can anyone affirm that these conditions have ever been complied with in the case of the sequences of nature which we relate as causes and effects? The more carefully, in fact, this theory of hums as to the genesis of the causal idea is examined, the more clearly it is seen to abound in assumptions and in consequences. The explanation of belief in causal connection is thought to be found in the experience of constant conjunction of objects in events, but in the first place, every constant conjunction is not a case of causation.

There may be antecedents and consequence invariable so far as our experience goes, to which we yet do not attribute causal connection. To take the familiar example, day follows night and night follows day, but it is not held that the one is the cause of the other. Else, as Reed observes, every case of habitual association would be a case of causation. There is a German proverb, quote,

Who says A says B, end quote, but A is not unethical. that account held to be the cause of B. The idea of even invariable sequence, therefore, is to be distinguished from that of causation. But in the second place, granting, as of course we must, that causes and effects are constantly conjoint in nature, it is certainly not the case that belief in causal connection arises from experience of this constant conjunction. In how many instances do we observe changes of which the causes are wholly unknown to us? Nature is full of apparent irregularities,

the cases in which a sequence has been observed so often as to generate a fixed belief through custom are few in comparison with the others. Quote, among so many unconnected but co-existing phenomena, says Dr. Brown, as are perpetually taking place around us, it is impossible that in the multitude of trains of sequence the parts of one train alone should always be observed by us, and the mind therefore, even though originally led to belief in causation or original sequence, must soon be rendered doubtful of its first belief,

when, from the comparison of parts of trains, the expected sequence is found to be different." Again, speaking of the numberless cases in which we observe a new phenomenon, the same ingenious writer observes, If it be the experience of custom alone, which can give us that belief of connection by which we denominate a change and effect, we are in this case not merely without a customary sequence. We have not seen a single case,

of it. Yet there is no one who does not believe the change to be an effect as completely as if he had witnessed every preceding circumstance." This leads to a third remark that it is not the case that long experience of conjunction is needed to produce the conviction of causation. It is often sufficient to produce the idea of causal connection to see one clear instance of the change. The child, e.g., that burns its fingers at the candle, to use an illustration of Hume's own, does not need a second trial to deter it from repeating the experiment, so in science one crucial experiment under appropriate conditions may be decisive. We pass to yet deeper ground when we proceed as the next step to the second form of

objection to Hume's theory, that it can render no action. account of the objective character of the judgment of causality. The force of this will be apparent in view of what has been said in the previous chapter of our idea of an objective order. On Hume's principles, what we have passing through the mind, or rather what constitutes the mind, is simply a succession of impressions and ideas. Any conjunction or association of these is only a union of our ideas with each other, But it was before shown that there is the broadest possible distinction between the succession

of our own thoughts and the objective succession of events in nature, and that a large part of the plausibility of Hume's doctrine depends on his continually confounding these two orders, the order of thought and the order of things with each other. On any hypothesis, it must be admitted that men do make this difference. distinction between the course of their own thoughts and the objective course of nature. We found Hume himself making the distinction, and even speaking, popularly, no doubt, of the quote-unquote pre-established harmony between them, and there is as little doubt that when we speak of the relation of cause and effect, it is the objective order, not the subjective

we have in view. To say that fire melts wax, that Prasic acid destroys life, that a storm wrecks a ship is more than a description of a succession of impressions and ideas in the mind. It expresses a relation of these objects among themselves and modes of their actions upon one another, irrespective of the order in which they may chance to be presented to our thoughts. In point of facts, the effect may be observed before the cause, or the cause may never be observed at all. Flame causes heat, and other of Hume's illustrations, but I may perceive the heat before I am led to observe the flame. It is not without reason, therefore, that Hume is found constantly exchanging quote-unquote ideas with, quote-unquote, objects, and affirming of the latter what is true only of the former.

But Kant goes deeper. It is essential to Hume's theory of the derivation of the causal judgment that prior to the possession of the idea of causality, we should observe successions of phenomena in a fixed order. It is from observation of the irregular conjunctions that the idea is supposed to be obtained. It is here that Kant strikes in with his penetrating criticism. In assuming the existence of an objective world and of orderly succession in that world, you have, he argues, already implicitly supposed the operation of that causal principle

which you imagined yourself to obtain from your experience of it. For what is meant by speaking of objects and of a succession of objects, in the natural world. To speak of a thing as object at all is, as shown in the last chapter, to give that thing a place in an order or a system which has a subsistence, coherence, and connection of parts, irrespective of the course of our ideas of it. It implies an order in which the parts are definitely related to each other, in which each has its place fixed by relation to the other parts. But such an order already involves,

is constituted for our thought and experience through this very principle of causation, which we are proposing to derive from it. This does not mean that in the system of nature, each antecedent is regarded as the cause of its immediate consequence. But it does mean that every term in that succession, has its definite place assigned to it in the order of the whole, and this is only possible through causal relations. The idea of cause may not per se imply that of a fixed order,

but it is indisputable that the idea of a fixed order implies that of cause. Else any given phenomenon would be an accident. It might appear equally well, at any points of the series of events. It would not be integrated with the other phenomena as part of an objective system. If this be clearly understood, it is fatal to the acceptance of Hume's theory, for it shows that his derivation of the causal judgment from experience of constant conjunctions is an inversion of the actual state of the case. This enables us to give an answer to the question formerly postponed as to the real ground of our belief in the uniformity of nature. Hume wishes to know how it comes about that, having observed causation

in a particular instance, we are led to extend this belief in causation to similar and future instances. The simple answer would seem to be that, in default of reason to the contrary, bodies which exhibit similar properties, or, as Hume would say, have like sensible qualities, as being the same in nature. We therefore expect them to operate in the same way. That judgment may be correct or may prove an experiment to be in whole or part erroneous. Objects apparently similar, may really differ in some unknown respect, or the uniformity we have discovered in their action may prove liable to modification, e.g. the expansion of water at freezing point. With thus correct mistakes and enlarge our knowledge of the true laws and constitution of nature.

But our confidence is never shaken that, so far as we have discovered the real nature of our objects, they will continue to act according to that nature. So, far from reason having nothing to do with the quote-unquote inference we make, it is precisely because we believe nature to be a rationally constituted system that we expect constancy in it. A few words may now be said on the basis of these discussions on the true origin and nature of this idea of causation. Hume seeks to subvert the causal judgment by showing that it springs, to use the words

employed in another connection, not from the quote-unquote cogitative, but from the quote-unquote sensitive part of our nature. That is, that there is no ground for it in reason. In truth, as just said, it is reason and reason alone that will yield it. The fundamental postulative reason is that whatever exists has some rational explanation of its existence, that whatever changes take place, there is always a reason which explains these changes. A mind to which this is not self-evident on the mere statement of it can never have it proved to it by argument. In pure thinking, at least, it will be admitted that there is a rational statement.

sequence in ideas. In a geometrical demonstration, e.g., what we have is not simply one idea following upon another, and united with that other by association. There is perceived a connection in reason between the premises and the conclusion. In the world of reality, it is not different. We may not perceive the reason of a change, but we have no manner of doubt that there is a reason, an insufficient one. Either, as in the case of a self-determining agent, the being has the reason of the change within himself, or, as in the case of natural, selfless phenomena, the object is determined to be what it is by something beyond itself. It is this idea of established connection on some rational principle which we denominate quote-unquote necessary connection

in nature. A connection not indeed metaphysically necessary, as if the constitution of nature might not conceivably have been other than it is, but factually necessary. Metaphysical necessity inheres only in the rational principle that a cause or reason there must be. When accordingly Hume says that there is never perceived any rational connection between cause and effect, he greatly oversteps the evidence. A man frames, we shall suppose, the plan of a house or design of a machine. Will anyone say that when his plan or design is executed, it is simply a case of one thing following another, and that there is no rational connecting principle between means and

end? When a writer, like Hume, conceives a book intended to convey to other minds the idea of of a particular philosophical system, will anyone affirm that there is no connection, say that of accidental succession between the thoughts of the original author, the book he has produced, and the impression it makes upon the reader? Even in external nature, if the laws concerned in the production of a particular phenomenon are clearly grasped, say the laws of chemical combination, is it correct to say that you cannot, up to a certain point, give a rational explanation of the effects that are produced.

Else, what do we mean by explanation? The result of the whole is that Hume's endeavour to get rid of reason in the sphere of causation is as vain as his efforts to explain the rise of knowledge without a conscious thinking mind, rational principles of connection among ideas, and without the recognition of an objective world by reference to which our internal states are known to be internal. In closing this chapter, allusion must be made to one other topic directly connected with the subject of causation. None of the great speculators on causation have left out of view the bearings of their

doctrine on free will, and Hume likewise has an application. of his theory to, quote, liberty and necessity, and quote, in which he consistently reduces all human action to the same law of necessity as prevails in nature. Thus it appears, he says, that the conjunction between motives and voluntary actions is as regular as that between cause and effect in any part of nature, end quote. While he defines liberty, as simply, quote, a power of acting or not acting according to the determination of the will, end quote. And at first Hume seems justified, for if causation is a necessary principle of connection among phenomena, how shall volitions any more than other phenomena be withdrawn

from its scope? One answer that might be given, which is also in part cons, is that causation applies only to nature, to the phenomenal world, not to the world of spirit. In the outward world, necessity rules, in mind or spirit, freedom. Dougald Stuart wrote, This maxim, that every change implies the operation of a cause, although true with respect to inanimate matter, does not apply to intelligent agents, which cannot be conceived without the purpose. power of self-determination."

The obvious fault of this statement is that it does not cover all the facts. It is not true that causation is confined only to the objective world or to inanimate nature. The will itself is a cause and acts outwards on nature, as well as in the regulation of thought and conduct. The principle of causation does not apply only to changes in nature, but to the fact of change as such. In a large part, the involuntary part, of our inward life, in the sensitive nature, the passions, the emotions, the workings of association and habit, the reign of causation is as obvious as in the world of matter. Yet probably it is

in this line of what Khan says of causation as a category of nature that the real solution of our problem is to be sought. If, as was previously urged, it is the I, which is the relating principle in knowledge, that which relates objects in their causal as in other connections, it seems obvious that it cannot itself be treated as one of the objects which it helps to relate. It is above the natural order with its laws of causation. This is viewing the self as thinking, but the same applies to it as acting, as will. In the simple fact of self-consciousness, the self knows itself raised above nature with its law of external necessitation, of determination of extra.

To it belongs the power, which is wanting to external nature of distinguishing itself from objects without, and from desires and passion within, and of determining itself freely in light of principles and ants. Man, as Khan says, is a being that acts under the representation of ants. This does not mean that the will at any time acts without reason or motive. For every act of a free rational nature, there will always be a why. But it is given to the self to determine itself ab intra. It is a cause which originates action, but is not itself an effect. Through unfaithfulness or vicious choice, a man may indeed part with this high prerogative

and become the slave of passion. It is the problem of our moral condition that we do find ourselves in alienation from our truest selves and in bondage to evil. But regarded in the light of his essential nature, man's dignity consists in his power of self-determination, and in regulation of his life by rational and moral ends. In human freedom, therefore, there is no contradiction of the law of causation. but rather the raising of that law to its own ultimate principle in self-conscious personality. It is but following out the same thought if we come to see that the final explanation of the causal order, even of nature, of the objective system, must lie not in an infinite regress of finite causes and effects,

but in a principle on which the whole depends, a principle rational, and self-conscious in Spinoza's phrase, but in a personal sense, Causa Sui. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is a Libravox recording. All Liberbox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visitlibrovox.org. David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr.

Chapter 8. Hume on Substance. The material world. The ego The two great metaphysical categories are those of causality and substance. On them rests the entire structure of physical science. The natural philosopher must assume the unconditional validity of principle of causation. Not less implicitly must he assume the principle of the indestructibility of substance.

All his reasonings and calculations would also be. would also be abortive. The skeptic, therefore, who can subvert these two important categories by showing them to be chimerical and unreal, may justly claim to have overturned the whole fabric of knowledge. It has been shown how Hume attempted to achieve this with regard to the category of cause. It is now to be considered how it bears with his assault on the second of these categories, that of substance. Substance, we found to be one of the ideas which caused lock particular difficulty. He was unwilling to part with it. He upheld to the last its validity, but he could give no intelligible account of it. The senses revealed to us only qualities of objects,

colors, sounds, tastes, hardness, etc. They tell us nothing of an unknown something in which these qualities in here. Hume was less considerate and more consistent. I would fain ask those philosophers, he says, who found so much of their reasonings on the distinction of substance and accident, and imagine we have clear ideas of each, whether the idea of substance be derived from the impressions of sensation and reflection. If it be conveyed to us by our senses,

I ask which of them, and after what manner. If it be perceived by the eyes, it must be a color, if by the ears a sound of the palate of taste, and so of the other senses. But I believe that none will assert that substance, substance is either a color, or sound, or a daze. The idea of substance must therefore be derived from the impression of reflection, really exists.

But the impressions of reflection resolve themselves into our passions and emotions, of which can possibly represent a substance. We have, therefore, no idea of substance distinct from that of a collection of particular qualities, nor have we any other meaning when we either talk or reason concerning it. The idea of a substance, as well as that of a

mode is nothing but a collection of simple ideas that are united by the imagination, and have a particular name assigned them by which we are able to recall, either to ourselves or others, that collection. Language of Dr. Thomas Brown is almost identical with that of hume on this subject. So, too, is that of J.S. Mill and his logic, though in his examination of Hamilton he is forced to add something to his view by the introduction of permanent possibilities of sensation. and Mr. Spencer, the substance expresses the persistence of the unknowable power, force, which is the ultimate reality behind both matter and mind.

This denial of the idea of substance by him leads naturally to certain unfortunate skeptical results. One, and first, as the consequence of this denial, there falls necessarily the idea of an independently existing material world. Here also we saw that Locke was guilty of several patent inconsistencies, assuming to account for his ideas a world of objects outside the mind he began by taking this external world for granted and only when his theory was completed considered the question of his right to make so vast an assumption hume proceeds more regularly and examines at length the question of the veracity of the senses in part four section two of his treatise he assumes as a point which admits of no doubt that men do believe in the existence of body that is in its continued and distinctions extinct existence, and proposes to investigate the causes wherefore they do so. The opinion must arise either from the senses, the reason, or the imagination.

But it cannot arise from the senses, for these give only isolated perceptions, and say nothing of existences which lie beyond. As little can this opinion arise from reason, where reason teaches first, that nothing can ever be present to the mind but its own perceptions, and second, that perceptions can only exist while they are actually. perceived. So far we have little more than a reproduction of the Berkleyan idealism. To reconcile these contradictions, philosophers, e.g. have feigned a world of objects, which lie beyond ideas and produce them. But this is not only in itself absurd,

and opposed to popular belief, but it is incapable of proof. The vulgar idea of the natural world is simply that of the continued existence of the sense perceptions themselves. The belief must therefore be due to imagination. Hume accordingly attempts to show how it can be accounted for by the principles of association, cooperating with the coherence and constancy of the sense appearances, and with a propensity to feign continued existence in the case of interrupted perceptions. The result is that we are compelled by irresistible instinct to believe in the independent existence of material things, while on the other hand the slightest reflection demonstrates

this belief to be an illusion. The opinion of external existence, if rested on natural instinct, it's contrary to reason, and if preferred to reason, is contrary to natural instinct, and carries no rational evidence with it to convince an impartial inquiry. It is very remarkable that when Hume is dwelling on the fact that all these objects, mountains, houses, trees, etc., to which we attribute continued existence have a particular constancy, which distinguishes them from the impressions whose existence depends on our perceptions, and that even in their changes they preserve a coherence and have a regular dependence on each other,

the fire, e.g. we left burning, is extinct by the time we return. He does not perceive that he is already assuming the existence of that very objective order for which it is his business to account. It is not as fleeting and perishing internal impressions that our perceptions exhibit this constancy and coherence, but as presenting objects to the mind under independent relations of coexistence, succession, and causation. 2. But second, rejecting the notion of an external world, have we any better ground for asserting the reality, permanence, and distinct existence of the mind or salt?

The discussion of this subject is omitted in the later inquiry, but the question is fully gone into in the treatise, Section 6, of personal identity, and elsewhere. In these places, Hume clearly shows that on his original principles, we must dismiss the idea of a self, as well as that of material objects. What we call a mind, he says, is nothing but a heap or collection of different perceptions, united together by certain relations, and supposed, though falsely, to be endowed with perfect simplicity and identity. More expressly, setting aside some metaphysitions of this kind, I may venture to affirm of the rest of mankind, that they are nothing but a bundle or collection. of different perceptions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux in movement. Mind is a kind of theater where several perceptions successfully make their appearance, ass, repass, glide away, and mingle in an infinite variety of postures and situations.

There is properly no simplicity in it at one time, nor identity and different, whatever natural prevention we may have to imagine that simplicity and identity. The comparison of the theater must not mislead us. They are the successive perceptions only that constitute the mind, nor have we the most distant notion of a place where these scenes are represented, more of the materials of which it is composed. In this uncompromising theory, Hume passes far beyond Berkeley, though there are indications that the latter had also the extreme position before his mind. It was these daringly skeptical conclusions, which, as we formerly saw, awakened Reed, and prompted him to a re-investigation of the principles from which they followed. Reed, standing on the ground of common sense,

naturally and justly regarded the attempt to disprove the permanent reality of a self-in-consciousness, as the reductio ad absurdum of all philosophy. His reply, however, was not as profound as it might had been he could only fall back on the resistless conviction possessed by every man that the thoughts of which he is conscious belong to one and the same thinking principle, what he calls himself, a conviction which Hume did not deny. The true answer would have been to show, as a previous chapter indicated, that without the presupposition of this permanent self or ego in consciousness, there would be no consciousness at all. This was the irrefutable principle, enunciated by Kant in his deduction of the categories, and in light of it the untenable character

of Hume's position is very apparent. Hume, in the above passage, makes itself nothing but a heap or bundle or collection of different perceptions united together by certain relations. But what unites the perceptions in one consciousness? It cannot be the perceptions themselves, but these are fleeting and perishing, and each has knowledge only of its own existence. What then is it which, finds perceptions into their several bundles, or who or what, receives the relations between them. How, E.G., is perception A, known to belong to bundle A, rather than to bundles B or C. How can the individual even appear to himself as a unity? There is no answer to these questions on the principles of Hume.

None, perhaps, even on the principles of Mr. Spencer, whose aggregates of states of consciousness bear a doubtful resemblance to Hume's bundles. we have only to go back to Hume's own sentences to see how inevitably the wee slips in, if only any natural propension we have to imagine simplicity and identity. Mr. Mill indeed felt the force of some of these difficulties, but his series of feelings aware of itself has passed in future only made the physician more hopeless than ever. As he himself put it,

we are reduced to the alternative of believing that the mind or ego is something different from any series of feelings or possibility of them, or of accepting the paradox that something which X-hypothesy is, but a series of feelings, can be aware of itself as a series. It does not destroy the value of this deduction of the reality of the ego and consciousness that, under the influence of his peculiar idealism, Kant refused to identify this I with the numinal self, or to permit the application of it to the categories,

The great point against Hume is to show that there is an eye at all in consciousness as distinct from the particular impressions or ideas. It may be a fair question whether substance, which, with Kant as a category of nature, is the best term to apply to a spiritual subject like itself. There need be no controversy on a question of mere nomenclature. The essential thing is the admission of a thinking principle, which abides one and the same through the changing states of consciousness, knows them as its own states, relates them to itself, to one another, and to objects.

Hume said, I never can catch myself at any time without a perception, to which Professor Caldewood very absently retorted that it was enough. It could catch himself with one. This is the self, of which each one of us is conscious, and which we cannot think without assuming. The consciousness of personal identity may arise in memory, in comparison of the present state of self through the past state, but it is not through memory, as is sometimes assumed that personal identity is constituted. The reverse is the truth, for it is only as I am one and the same person throughout, that I retain the memory of past acts, and am able to recognize them as imaged in consciousness, my very

own. Reverting to the question of the reality of an external world, which, in its connection the theory of perception has always been the crux of philosophy, it is probably again to Kant that we must flip with the deepest vindication, not certainly of the independent existence of the world, but of the rational character and necessity of the principle of substance implied in our apprehension of it. It has been shown in the previous discussion that the question of self

and that of the reality of an objective world are far from unrelated, that they are, in fact, by different sides of the same question. There is no consciousness of self, which does not include as its inseparable correlated, consciousness of an other-than-self, which the mind grows to apprehend as a world of objects, with which it stands in closest relations, alike as receiving impressions from it, and as its self-acting upon it, and affecting changes in it. This, in fact, human myths under the name of vulgar belief. But it is to be observed now, apart from vulgar belief, and speaking purely as a

philosopher, he is compelled continually to make the same acknowledgement. His pages, as has been shown, are full of language which has no meaning except on the assumption that there is a world of objects, a succession of events, a course of nature, different and distinguishable from the subjective course of thought and feeling. It is for the constitution of such a world that Kant is able to show the indispensableness an a priori character of the principle of substance. In the view of Hume, substance is a fictitious idea, the imaginary support qualities, perceptions, states of consciousness, which are given in heaps, or bundles, as others would say groups, without any such suggestion of invisible support. But the question is, are the objects we perceive cognized as mere bundles of perceptions,

or in Mr. Spencer's phrase vivid states of consciousness? Is it not of the very idea of an object world that it is conceived of as having a subsistence, connections, modes of action, and successions of its own, that it goes its own way in obedience to its own laws, not necessarily an independence of all thought, but independently, at least, of my individual knowledge and experience of it. The question is not how a bundle of perceptions is held together in the mind, but how a world of the kind now described can exist. Confixes on the true idea of substance is that of a permanent subsisting in the moment of midst of change, improves, we think irrefutably, but this idea is involved in the very

possibility of such experience as we have. He does not, like him, raise the question as to whether we have a knowledge of an objective order, but, starting from the fact of such an order as given an experience, he asks only what principles of rational connection are implied in it, and finds the principle of substance to be one of them. this important position of kant deserves further elucidation others besides him have seen the need of explaining the permanent inexperience but the theories they framed to account for it would be less plausible if they paid more attention to the fact of change which kant emphasizes mr mill e g supposes that having found by long experience group of attributes regularly appearing under certain circumstances we learn to expect their return and come to regard them even when absent as permanent possibilities of sensation but this is by no means the prominent idea and the thought of substance we understand by substance something which persists not merely when circumstances and groups of sensations remain the same but when all these are changing that was the idea of substance in this sense to be accounted for association can hardly come into play here for all appearances are against the permanence but the strongest objection to this whole group of theories turns on the point already mentioned but in all they failed to give an account of permanence in an objective system

association may create a subjective union among ideas which have always been found together but unquestionably it is a very different kind of bond among phenomena we are in search of when these speak of the permanence of substance. Mr. Mill himself says, the matter-composing universe, whatever philosophical theory we hold concerning it, we know by experience, to be constant in quantity, never beginning, ever ending, only changing its form. The truth is, the principle of the permanence of substance, which lies at the basis of our conception of an object, cannot be manufactured by any process which does not already imply its existence. It is the firm basis of all objective experience, and to subvert it would be to destroy at once the possibility of experience and possibility of science. To these considerations in support of the substantiality

of the material universe, the reply may be pertinently made that we have not yet, an answer to Hume, shown how real knowledge of such a world is possible, or met his arguments in proof that what we call perception of objects is simply a subjective state, is the proof of the proof of proved not overwhelming which may be said that what we name sense impressions are simply internal affections of mind and not the apprehension of any qualities existing in objects without and have we not daily corroboration of this in the fallacy of the reports which the senses bring e g the bent stick and water on this much exploited subject of the fallacy of the senses it may be sufficient to observe at present and we can only properly speak a fallacy by an implied contrast with a real order of nature, which therefore is assumed to exist, and to be at least in part known. Just as the physiological method of speaking of sensations as affections of or images in the brain implies the existence as frees of that important organ, everyone is familiar to some extent

with the limits to be set to the trustworthiness, the senses, but everyone is also aware that, assuming our knowledge of the objective world to be as well-founded as we ordinarily suppose it is possible from the laws of light sound etc we have an explanation of these alleged deceptions of the senses which clearly enough shows how the appearances arise from which our wrong inferences are drawn it is because there is an objective system with its fixed laws that these appearances are what they are still the question is not answered as to how we have this knowledge of reality external to ourselves at all i'm's dilemma is two-fold one either the object is something truly external to the mind, in which case the mind cannot know it, or even obtain a clue

to the fact of its existence, since the mind cannot in the nature of things overloop its own consciousness, get outside its own ideas, or two, the object is an idea of the mind, or bundle of perceptions, which is his own hypothesis, in which case there is no external world to know, and our knowledge of it is illusion. It may be of use here to glance briefly first at some of the results brought out by Hume's speculations in the school most opposed to him, that of Reed and Hamilton. Reed, as is well-known, attacked Hume in his fundamental position that nothing can ever be present to the mind but its own perceptions, point too readily conceded by Kant. This, at least, is Hamilton's interpretation of Reed, and though Reed was not always guarded

in his language, yet taking his whole position into account, it seems probable that it is the correct one. Reed meant, in other words, to defend the doctrine of what Hamilton afterwards called natural realism. He did so, as usual, on the ground of common sense, for natural, irresistible conviction. So far, it is a fair reply that Hume never denied the existence of that natural conviction to which Reed appealed. What he did attempt to show was that it was irreconcilable with reason. But beyond this, Reed met Hume on his own ground, and sought with more or less success to prove that this natural belief is not merely instinctive the product of the sensitive and not of the cogitative part of our nature but is based on knowledge i e a priori insightful principles are involved in it

dr thomas brown who came after yielded the whole ground to the skeptic he grants that the mind is conscious only of its own states concedes that on the principles of reason the skeptical arguments admit of no reply and has nothing to oppose to hume but the invincible persuasion of external reality which Hume had not thought of disputing. The doctrine of Reed was taken up and developed by Sir William Hamilton, but in developing it, Hamilton found so much to alter and correct that in the end of the homely Reed would have felt it hard to discover any trace of himself in his critics' recondite speculations. Hamilton's position may be described as an attempt to combine a realistic system, founded on reeds, with the doctrine of relativity, akin in some respects to Kant's. Some of the difficulties that pressed on Reed's theory, he endeavors to avoid by his

distinction of presentative, representative perception, and of an organic and extra-organic sphere of sense perception. In the perception of a table, e.g., it is not the outward object I directly perceive, but its illuminated retinal image. Impressing the table with my hand, on the contrary, I am directly conscious of the presence of the presence of the an extended solid object external to myself. Sense, in both cases, contributes its part, and qualifies and modifies the total impression, hence the relativity of all our perceptions. The counter-developments in the Association School, which stand in direct lineage to human,

need not detain us. The service of this school is the minute attention it has bestowed on the influence of association in all mental processes. But the result arrived at is the same. same as in Hume, is that belief in an external world is a product of association working on sensations which are found to have a search and coherence, constancy, and their appearances. Mr. Spencer attempts a synthesis of the opposing views. On the metaphysical side, his theory claims to be one of realism, transfigured realism, but on the psychological side is not unlike Humes

in seeking to show how, from the association of vivid and faint states of consciousness of consciousness, we come to form ideas of objects without us. The modern school has devoted itself specially to the investigation of physiological conditions of perception. The value of these labors in their own sphere is very great, but their importance for the solution of the ultimate problem may easily be exaggerated. Looking at the problem from our own standpoint, it may first be conceded that Hume is not altogether wrong in the account he gives of perception, though at every stage, through neglect of the rational element of knowledge, this treatment is marked by oversights. He is right, e.g., in his original concession, of the irresistible compulsion laid on mankind,

even on philosophers, to believe in reality and continued existence of an external world, and in his vivid descriptions of coherence and constancy of those perceptions which determined the mind to believe in that continued existence. He is right, further, in his contention that this belief is not the result of reason in a sense of conscious ratiocination. It is the case, as he declares, that our belief in an external world is not the product of conscious, involuntary reflection. Nature takes in hand with the formation of the judgments involved in this belief long before reflected thought awakens, and so thoroughly does she do her work that in the first dawn of

self-conscious life, we already find ourselves in possession of the knowledge of a world which experience, while correcting many primitive judgments by more mature ones, finds in the main to be reliable. This, however, does not imply, as Hume supposes, that the process is irrational, or originates any sensitive, as distinguished from the cogitative part of our nature. It only shows that there is an unconscious operation of reason before there is a conscious one. We are here in the region of what Professor James would term the subliminal assault. We may not be able to rethink the process, but we are assured that if we could rethink it,

it would explain and justify the belief we have in an external world, as well as elucidate the anomalies of what we call the allusions of the senses. Yet again, we found that Hume connects the immediate presentation of the object and perception with the killed the liveliness of our impressions. See, up, Mr. Spencer's vivid states. Nor is he altogether wrong in this, though he states the fact, and accurately. The sensation, which is always connected with perception, is of a peculiarly lively nature,

as an indifinal quality of vividness, which, as Hume says, distinguishes it from its image in memory and imagination. But he errs first, in supposing that perception consists merely, or its distinctive character perception consists at all, in his presence of sensation. In reality, his deeper analysis shows it involves a multitude of judgments through which we define an object to ourselves as existing in relations. Into it, there enters likewise a large number of other elements, derived from previous experience, from memory, association, acquired judgments, etc., constituting it in its totality a highly

complex fact. But second, humanverts the real relation of basing our belief in the object on the vividness of the mental impressions, whereas in truth it is our belief in the reality and presence of an object. and rather, our immediate apprehension of it, imparts its forcible character to our perceptions. He errs, third, in attributing the vividness in question to the sense affection alone, and in not perceiving that from the same cause, a like character of vividness, force, and indivineable assurance belongs to all the mental acts involved. Two points are involved in the criticism of Hume's theory.

One, the possibility of even forming the idea of an external world, and two, the possibility of the knowledge of that world as existing. But these two are intimately connected, for it is evident that if we can form the idea of an object distinguishable from self, there is no inherent impossibility in existence of such an object, or in its becoming known by us as existing. Logically, on his principles, he ought to say, not the idea of an external world is fictitious, a product of imagination, but that we have no such idea at all. This, however, would be going too far. It is plainly absurd to say that the mind cannot form the idea of an object which it distinguishes from itself and conceives of as part of an external world. When, apart from

our constant consciousness of possessing such an idea, if the idea did not exist, we could not even be found at disputing as the possibility of knowing such external objects. We come then to the second and main point, there is the possibility of knowing such objects if they exist. And here we venture to think that the fallacy which runs through Hume's arguments may be summed up in one simple proposition that to say we have an idea of an object is the same thing as to say that the object is an idea. Is this proposition true? The Hume's mind is incontestable.

In his language, ideas, objects, ideas of objects all stand for the same thing, subjective states or combinations of them. what is it the case the matter may be brought to a very simple test leave out of account for the moment the ideas we form of the external world and would take only the ideas we form of our fellow-human beings of other persons as hume or the veriest sceptic that ever lived mean by his denial to the mind of a power of knowing anything beyond its own ideas who affirm that the belief he entertains in the existence of other minds than his own It's also a chimera, a subjective illusion, or fiction. In consistency, he ought to do this, for it is certain that we know our felon in no other way than we know the external world, through our ideas of them.

But it is very curious to observe the human and practice. Never reasons against the existence of other minds, as he does against the existence of an external world. To do this would be to reduce his system to two palpable unobservity, picture of the philosopher not the vulgar man sitting down to compose a treatise directed to other minds to convince them of the truth of speculations which implied that no minds but the philosophers own if even that existed would be too much for most people's sense of the ridiculous hume therefore makes no scruple throughout his work in assuming that there are other minds besides his own to which he can't in all seriousness address himself but if the philosopher can do this without thereby reducing the minds of his readers to ideas the calmest assurance in fact that they are something more what becomes of the principle that to have the idea of an object means that the object itself is an idea or of the assertion that because the mind knows only its own perceptions it can have no knowledge of beings or objects outside itself why if the mind is capable of knowing real existences beyond itself in the case of the case of the mind is capable of knowing real existences beyond itself in the case of the

of other persons, should the same power not be conceded to it in regard to external nature, is my conviction of the existence of my fellow-men one whit stronger or more reasonable, than my conviction of the existence of the dog running at my side, the fowls I see strutting in the barnyard, the birds, I hear singing in the trees. There remains on the assumption of the perception of an actual world, the question of the rationale of the act of perception, a subject which involves too many complex psychological elements to be considered in any detail here.

To the how of the act of perception, it may be impossible for us wholly to give an answer, but we are not precluded by this from a knowledge of the that, the fact. And in the investigation of that fact, notwithstanding all our investigations of physiological antecedents and conditions, we do not seem to get much beyond what, direct consciousness yields us, viz, an immediate awareness in some relation, or what comes to the same thing, under some quality of an object, which we apprehend as existing, and distinguish

from ourselves as part of a world, with whose other parts it stands in connection. It may be a question whether, from the sense of sight alone presenting to us, as human say, colored points disposed in a certain manner, we could attain to that consciousness of of external, solid, and extended world, to which, in fact, we do attain with a combination of sight, the sense of touch, and experience of muscular resistance. It is not a question that, when the act of perception is fully analyzed, it is found, as already said, to involve many elements and factors, some of them primitive, many acquired, others' results of association, perhaps of inheritance, most of them probably interpretations of the sense accompaniments of

perception, must give her feelings, e.g., as the indices of space relations and judging of distances, etc., all of which mental science cannot too narrowly investigate. But the broad fact remains that through all we reach the apprehension of a world of objects, which increasing experience and scientific investigation of its laws warrant us in regarding us actually, permanently, and independently of our minds, existing. when all is said it must be granted that an ultimate inexplicability attaches to this act in which, under sense conditions, a world which is not ourselves, enters as a real factor into our knowledge. How is this possible? Only, it may be replied on the hypothesis that the distinction between

ourselves who know and the world we know is not, after all, final, that there is a deeper ground, and ultimate unity that the universe, including ourselves, is a single system, the parts of which stand in reciprocal relation to the spiritual principle on which in the last resort the whole ends. Here, however, we enter a transcendental region which leaves hume far behind, and into which in this connection we may not travel further. The conclusions we have reached may be summed up in three propositions, which we take it, represent positions that can never finally be extruded from philosophy. 1. The first, which is the truth of idealism, is that the universe, however construed, can never be divorced from intelligence or thought. It is an intelligible system, is constituted through intelligence,

exists for intelligence. Its ultimate principle can only be an understanding akin in nature to our own. 2. The second, which is the truth of realism, is that the universe, whatever it may be, is something actual and independent of man's individual consciousness. It is as much as another's as mine, and as real for him as for me. It appears in our consciousness, but it is more than our consciousness. Its reality is not our knowledge of it, whatever may be its relations to knowledge, absolutely. This is the point in which the school of read is impregnable, and in maintaining which it did its peculiar service.

Three, the third, which is the truth of relativity, is that the universe we know is yet known to us under the conditions and limitations that belong to human consciousness, and arrayed in the sense clothing that such consciousness gives it. Here comes in the mind's own contribution to the world as it knows it, the brightness of light, the gaiety of color, the melody of sound of the fragrance of odors, the lights of the palate, the roving of sensing,

generally, which is the principal source of its delight and charm to the sentient being. Thus, after all, Locke's distinction of primary and secondary qualities is vindicated, though on a different ground from that on which he placed it. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is a Libervox recording. All LiberFox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org.

David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr. Hume on Morals, Utilitarianism. In the history of ethical systems, three prevailing modes of contemplating the phenomena of morals may be distinguished. Each connected with great names and each still finding its default. defenders. They may be termed respectively the aesthetic, the stoic or juror, and the utilitarian. The ruling thought in the first class's systems is the beautiful. Talmanunki. In the second, the right. In the third, the useful. Plato and Chastver may represent the first. Can't be stand for the second.

Hume was an advocate of the third, though not to the exclusion of the first. Since the time of Hume, the utilitarian philosophy has risen into great prominence in Britain, fixing on the acknowledged tendency of virtuous acts and dispositions to promote the happiness of the individual and of society. This system erects utility to the place of a universal moral standard, and proclaims it as the one source of moral distinctions. The theory assumes two forms. according as the end contemplated is the happiness of the individual or the happiness of society in general. The former is the selfish, the latter, the disinterested type of utilitarianism.

The system has, however, its natural parent in the ancient Epicureanism, with its exaltation of pleasure as the chief good, and if the doctrine in its later form has received itself elements in virtue of which it is capable of assuming a more plausible character, it achieves this only by a happy inconsistency. Footnote, So von declares that the term utilitarian is hardly an adequate substitute for the older term eunmonism. And a footnote. With the rise of the evolutionary philosophy, especially in the hands of Mr. Spencer, the utilitarian hypothesis has undergone radical transformations. This has happened mainly in three respects. One, in the explanation of moral intuitions through the accumulated experiences of the race transmitted by inheritance.

Two, in the attempt to deduce the laws of morality directly from the laws of evolution. 3. In modifications of the idea of the moral end in the substitution, e.g. of efficiency, life, health, of the social organism for the older happiness. Most of these later developments lie beyond our purview, nor does the final confession of the author of the evolutionary mode of treatment lead us to look with much hope to its results. footnote. In the preface to parts five and six of his ethics on justice, Mr. Spencer says, Now that I have succeeded in completing the second volume of the principle of ethics, my satisfaction is somewhat dashed by the thought that the new parts fall short of expectation.

The doctrine of evolution has not furnished guidance to the extent I had hoped. Most of the conclusions drawn empirically are, such as right feelings, enlightened by cultivated intelligence, have already sufficed to establish, etc. End a footnote. In this development of the utilitarian philosophy in Britain, Hume's writings take a very important place. In some respects, the theory of utility has never found a better advocate than it did in him. Hume was not, indeed, the first to lay stress in the philosophy of morals on the disinterested affections. Cumberland and Shaftesbury had done that far earlier, and many of Hume's arguments on this head are simple adaptations of those of Hutchison and Butler.

Still, it cannot be doubted that Hume's evil advocacy gave a new impetus to the more disinterested form of the theory of utility, and, notwithstanding a partial reaction to the selfish view under Paley, we may trace since his day an increased prevalence of what is called in utilitarian phraseology, the greatest happiness principle, alike in Jeremy Bentham, who is specially identified with this principle, and in James Mill, there is obvious difficulty in adjusting the relations of the two interests, public and private, and justice and benevolence on their theory constantly tend to sink back into more refined form, of self-love. Footnote. The author of the phrase is really Priestley, who, in his essay on government in 1768, introduced as the proper object of government, the greatest happiness of the

greatest number. Bentham followed in 1776 the year of Hume's death, adopting the phrase. Mr. Leslie Stephen carries it still further back to Hutchinson. End a footnote. J.S. Mill, however, distinctly enunciates the principle. The utilitarian standard is not the agent's own greatest happiness, but the greatest amount of happiness altogether. The selfish doctrine of Hobbes and Paley, therefore, the ethics of interest, as cousin called it, is thus set aside as defenseless by the best advocates of the theory. To Hume, with his powerful polemic against self-love, as the principle of morals must be attributed part of the credit of this result. But we shall see that the credit has to be qualified in several important ways. Hume's theory of morals originally published 1740 as book three of the treatise on human nature was like the first book recast and afterwards published as the inquiry concerning the principles of morals. With this work has a to be taken the dissertation on the passions appended to the inquiry concerning the human understanding,

which corresponds to the original book two of the treatise. The dissertation of itself does not contain much that need detain us. It is interesting as an attempt, which in parts reminds of Spinoza, to give not merely a classification of the passions, under which Hume includes all appetites. desires, affections, emotions. But as far as possible, a rationale of them. Occasionally, Hume falls back on original instincts. As when he says of pride, I find that the peculiar object of pride and humility is determined by an original and natural instinct. And of benevolence, it is a constitution of nature of which we can give no further explanation. In explaining the passions,

he makes use of what he calls the double relations of ideas and impressions, e.g. both the object of pride and the passion of pride have relation to self. Again, the object is something agreeable, and the passion is likewise an agreeable feeling. His whole aim, he thus sums up at the close. It is sufficient for my purpose. If I have made it appear that in the production and conduct of the passions, there is a certain regular mechanism, which is susceptible of as accurate a disquisition as the laws of motion, optics, hydrostatics, or any part of

natural philosophy, which accurate disquisition assuredly, Hume's dissertation has not approved itself to be. Hume's determination in his dissertation to know nothing but impressions and ideas an arbitrary conjunction, involves him in curious paradoxes. What could be order, e.g., then his contention that, if nature had so pleased, love might have had the same effect as hatred, and hatred as love. I see no contradiction in supposing a desire of producing misery annex to love, and of happiness to hatred.

Occasionally, too, under the influence of his difficulties, effective psychology, we find him slipping into such confusions of intellectual and emotional phenomena as the following. What is commonly, in a popular sense, called reason, is nothing but a calm passion which takes a comprehensive and a distinct view of its object and actuates the will without any sensible emotion. It would be easy to show that. Nevertheless, the dissertation involves many principles, which, if pushed, would be fatal to his main doctrine. His whole theory of pride and humility, e.g. turns on the possession of that idea of self, which, in his theoretic philosophy, he had demonstrated could not exist, since we have no

impression of it. How again in the light of his first principles are we to construe such a sentence as the following. Being so far advanced as to observe a difference between the object of the passions and their cause, and to distinguish in the cause the quality which operates on the passions from the subject in which it inheres, we now proceed, etc. It is, however, only with the bearings of the dissertation on the theory of morals. We are at present concerned, and here it's principal interest lies in the opening positions on good and evil and on the relations of our desires and emotions to these. Hume's theory on this subject is, in brief, precisely that of Hobbs and Locke, viz, that good and evil are but names for pleasure and pain respectively. Some objects, he says,

produce immediately an agreeable sensation by the original structure of our organs and are then denominated good, as others from their immediately disagreeable sensations acquire the appellation evil. Some objects again, by being naturally conformable or contrary to passion, excite an agreeable or painful sensation, and are then called good or evil. When good or evil is certain or very probable, there arises in the one case joy and the other, grief or sorrow. When the good or evil is uncertain, it gives rise to hope or fear. Desire arises from good, considered simply an aversion from evil. The will exerts itself when either the presence of the good or absence of the evil may be attained by any action of the mind or body. That is to say,

good and evil, which awaken desire and aversion, and alone can set the will in motion, are agreeable or disagreeable sensations, or personal pleasure and pain. The effect of this initial doctrine on the theory of morals can readily be anticipated. We return now to the inquiry in its connection with the treatise. A comparison of these two shows that at the earlier work is somewhat rough and unsystematic. It is nevertheless the more vigorous exposition of Hume's ideas. The inquiry, however, is the more polished and readable. In it, the doctrine of utility as the foundation of morals is more distinctly expounded.

It has been mentioned that Hume himself regarded it as the best of his works, and perhaps it is, if judged by a purely literary standard. has at least this merit that its drift is not, like some of his other works, skeptical and destructive. Hume has reached the smooth waters of the easy philosophy, and avows himself on the side of common sense and reason, as against those disingenuous disputants who have denied the reality of moral distinctions. Footnote, his own speculations do tend to take the foundation from morality, e.g. in his dialogue on moral distinctions. In a letter to Hutchinson, he wishes he could avoid concluding that morality, as determined by sentiment, is something quite relative to humanity.

End of footnote. In the inquiry, as in the treatise, Hume begins by considering the question of the general foundation of morals, whether they be derived from reason or sentiment, And after weighing the matter pro and con, he concludes that both have to do with our moral decisions. Reason is required to sift the facts and make the proper distinctions, exclusions, and comparisons. But he thinks it probable that the final sentence depends on some internal sense or feeling which nature has made universal in the whole species. For the better determination of this question, he proposes to analyze that complication of mental qualities, which form what in common life, we term personal merit.

The method by which he proceeds is that of an induction of particular instances. His only object he assures us is to discover the circumstances on both sides, which are common to the estimable and blamable qualities, to observe that particular in which the estimable qualities agree on the one hand, and the blameable on the other, and thence to reach the foundation of ethics, and find those universal principles from which all censure or approbation is ultimately derived. We shall have occasion to notice that in Hume's treatment of morals, he deals almost entirely with the ethnable and blamable qualities of the agent,

scarcely ever with the abstract morality of the act. In this respect, his system constitutes a curious contrast to the doctrine of later utilitarians, who give chief prominence to the morality of the action. The purpose of utilitarianism, Mr. Mill tells us, is to show what actions are right and what wrong, irrespective of the character or feelings from which they spring. We have already anticipated the result of Hume's proof, It leads him to conclude in favor of public utility as the mark and test of virtuous qualities and dispositions. The necessity of justice to hum and artificial virtue to the support of society is the sole foundation of that virtue.

And since no moral excellence is more highly esteemed, we may conclude that this circumstance of usefulness has in general the strongest energy, and most entire command over our sentiments. It must therefore be the source of a considerable part of the merit ascribed to humanity, benevolence, friendship, public spirit, and other social virtues of that stamp. As it is the sole source of the moral approbation, pay to fidelity, justice, veracity, integrity, and those other estimable and useful qualities and principles. It is entirely agreeable to the rules of philosophy and even of common reason,

where any principle has been found to have a great force and energy in one instance, to ascribe to it a like energy in all similar instances. This indeed is Newton's chief rule of philosophizing. This conclusion, indeed, is not drawn with great logical strictness in regard to benevolence. For example, he claims to a rule of philosophizing. He claims to approve no more than that the utility resulting from the social virtues forms at least a part of their merit, any sums of thus. It appears to be a matter of fact that the circumstances of utility in all subjects is a source of praise and approbation, that it is constantly appealed to in all moral decisions concerning the merit and demerit of actions,

that it is the sole source of that I regard paid to justice, fidelity, honor, allegiance, and chastity, that it is inseparable from all the other social virtues, humanity, generosity, charity, affability, levity, mercy, and moderation. And in a word, it is a foundation of the chief part of morals, which has a reference to mankind and our fellow preachers. The reason is a reason. The of the important qualification which Hume here makes proof to be that, besides the quality of usefulness to ourselves and others, he recognizes the quality of agreeableness to ourselves and others as a ground of moral approbation. In his formal statements, he always joins together useful and agreeable, the Ultie, and the Tulsi. The distinction may at first sight

not seem to be great, but by useful. Hume has in view qualities directed to ends other than themselves, by agreeable, qualities which give immediate satisfaction to their possesses or to others. Such are cheerfulness, greatness of mind, courage, tranquility in the former class, politeness with decorum in the latter. The fault of such a classification is obvious since, as was objected at the time. One, it confounds talents and accomplishments with virtues, and two, overlooks that mere agreeableness is far from constituting virtue. Beauty of person, e.g. is an agreeable quality to its possessor,

but is not a virtue. It is more important to notice that, in Hume's view, the qualities in question are judged to be virtues, not from the standpoint of their possessors, but from the sympathetic onlooker. The cheerful man's state of mind may be a gratification to himself, but it is the sympathetic pleasure felt in it by the disinterested observer, which constitutes the element of approbation. Of course, qualities that are agreeable can also be useful,

and qualities that are useful, e.g., benevolence, are likewise agreeable, in themselves. Hence the other part of the merit ascribed to benevolence. Footnote, as love is immediately agreeable to the person who is actuated by it, and hatred immediately disagreeable, this may also be a considerable reason why we praise all the passions that partake of the former and blame all those that have any considerable share of the latter. All this seems to me, a proof that our approbation has in these cases, an origin different from the prospect of utility and advantage, either to ourselves or others. And a footnote.

The next question relates to the nature of the moral sentiment, and this hume discusses chiefly under the heading, why utility pleases. It cannot be affirmed that his doctrine on the point is either clear or satisfactory. We have found him declaring above in accordance with the elegant Shasbury and with Hutchison that it is probable that the final sentence in morals depends on some internal sense or feeling which nature has made universal in the whole species. Similarly, in the treatise, moral distinctions are held to be derived from a moral sense. An action or sentiment or character is virtuous or vicious. Why? Because its view causes a pleasure or uneasiness of a particular kind. And giving a reason, therefore, for the pleasure or uneasiness, we sufficiently explain the vice or virtue. To have the sense of virtue is nothing but to feel a satisfaction of a particular kind from the contemplation of a character. The very feel. constitutes our praise or admiration. We can go no further, nor do we inquire into the cause of the satisfaction. It is natural to presume that, as with the writers above named, this internal

sense is regarded as an original principle of human nature. As we proceed, however, we make the discovery that it is not so. We have not gone far before we find our author, departing from the undereved moral sense of Shasbury and Hutchison, and identifying the principle of approval and disapproval with the sentiment of benevolence, humanity, or generous sympathy. This is why utility pleases. We are constituted to take pleasure in the happiness of others, to sympathize with them, to seek their good. This leads us to look with complacency on all acts and qualities that tend to this end as on the end itself. It is impossible for such a creature as man to be wholly indifferent to the well or ill-being of his fellow creatures and not readily of himself

to pronounce that what promotes their happiness is good. What tends to their misery is evil. It is not, therefore, acts useful to ourselves, but acts useful to others or to society. as a whole, we approve of. Thus, in whatever light we take this subject, the merit ascribed to the social virtues appears still uniform, and arises chiefly from that regard, which the natural sentiment of benevolence engages us to pay to the interests of mankind and society. The notion of morals implies some sentiment common to all mankind, which recommends the same object to general approbation, and makes every man, or most men, agree in the same opinion or decision concerning it. It also implies some sentiment, so universal and comprehensive,

as to extend to all mankind, and render the actions and conduct even of the persons the most remote, an object of applause or censure, according as they agreed or disagree, with that rule of right which is established. These two requisite circumstances belong alone to the sentiment of humanity here insisted on. One curious result

to this derivation of moral sentiment entirely from benevolence is that the theory of hume, like that of Hutchison, would seem to have no room left in it for duties to self. It fails to give any reason why conscience should smile

approval on a man, for any act tending to his own good. It was probably in view of this defect, and with the purpose of meeting it, that Adam Smith developed his peculiar doctrine of reflex sympathy. It is the more interesting, therefore, to observe that Hume, in his earlier work, has already anticipated this objection,

and given an explanation which is almost identical with Smith's, which probably, indeed, furnished the latter with the germ of his peculiar theory. The close of the following passage illustrates this. The point of Adam Smith's theory it may be remembered is that the individual's approbation of merit in himself arises from sympathy with the approval of the disinterested spectator, a sufficiently roundabout hypothesis.

So Hume says, Nay, when the injustice is so distant from us, as in no way to affect our interest, it still displeases us because we consider it as prejudicial to human society and pernicious to everyone that approaches the person guilty of it. We partake of their uneasiness by sympathy and as everything that gives uneasiness in human actions upon the general survey is called vice, and whatever produces satisfaction in the same manner is to not. nominated virtue. This is the reason why the sense of moral good and evil follows upon justice and injustice, and though this sense in the present case be derived only from contemplating the actions

of others, yet we feel not to extend it even to our own actions. The general rule reaches beyond these instances from which it arose, while at the same time we naturally sympathize with others in the sentiments they entertain of us. Apart from deeper criticism, the obvious remark to be made on this view is that means sympathy with the agreeable experiences of others, whatever pleasure it may yield us, is a very different sentiment from that of moral approbation. It is far from true that everything which excites uneasiness in human actions on a survey of them is called vice, or that which produces satisfaction, virtue. Else our sympathy with the feelings of a criminal about to be hanged

might lead to a condemnation of the act which sentenced him. The acts must be of the kind we judge moral, before the feelings we call approbation or disapprobation can arise, and the feelings are regulated by the character of our judgment. This was another defect in Hume's doctrine, which Adam Smith attempted to supply by his doctrine of propriety. A deeper question will arise immediately as to the origin of the disinterested sentiment itself. To complete this view of Hume's doctrine, we have still to consider another point necessarily brought up

in all discussions of moral subjects, the idea of feeling of obligation. Here, most of all, the theory of Hume, and utilitarian systems generally, are felt to be deficient. The question is, why am I bound to perform certain actions rather than others? What constitutes the oughtness, which I feel in regard to them? But the answers by an appeal to the authority of conscience. Can't by an appeal to the categorical imperative of moral law. But human mill have no answer to give based on a moral demand,

which carries with it its own authority. Hume in particular can hardly be said to have faced the question at all. He rather adroitly avoids it and substitutes another in its place. Having explained the moral approbation attending merit or virtue, there remains nothing but briefly to consider our interested obligation to it, and to inquire whether every man, who has any regard to his own happiness or welfare, will not best find his account in the practice of moral duty. The object of this concluding section accordingly is to show

that all the duties which it, the foregoing system, recommends, are also the true interest of each individual. Obligation, in other words, is simply on this doctrine, another name for the selfish impulse. Here surely is the truth coming out at last. In whatever the rightness of an action was placed, it might have seemed evident that the obligation to perform it was something which flowed from that rightness and needed nothing else to account for it. I ought to do the action because I see it to be right. But Hume has placed the rightness of actions on the ground of their conduciveness to the public benefit, and this consideration of utility will not yield the consciousness of obligation. Hence, he is compelled in the last resort to identify obligation with self-interest.

I ought to do a thing because it is for my own good. This is a return to precisely that selfish view of morals which he had previously rejected. It implies that a stronger motive than the simple goodness of the action is required. required to make a moral agent feel his obligation, and that self-interest is the strongest motive which can be brought to bear upon him. Only, unfortunately, when it is brought to bear upon him, it is not the motive of moral obligation. Between that motive and the consideration of self-interest, there is a world of difference. The thing chiefly important to notice in this connection is that this is that this is no accidental flaw in Hume's theory or in any theory of the kind.

It springs from its essential nature, starting from Hume's principle, which was that of Hobbs' luck and of nearly all moral speculators before him, that the good, the sole object of desire, that which ultimately moves the will and alone can finally move it, is pleasure. No other conclusion is possible than that which Hume reaches. It might be shown that the sentimental moralists, even those who lay most stress on the benevolent affections, necessarily fall into the same snare,

finding as they must the ultimate sanction of morality in a state of feeling, viz, the peculiar pleasure yielded by the moral sense. This is true of Shaftesbury, who labors to establish that, to have the natural affections such as are found in love complacency and good will and in a sympathy with the kind or species is to have the chief means and power of self-enjoyment and that to want them is certain misery and ill of hutchinson who thinks that any fear of sacrifice of individual happiness must be removed if we have a moral sense in public affections who's gratifications are constituted by nature, our most intense and durable pleasures. Of even Butler,

who strangely declares that, when we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this or that pursuit, too we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, or at least not contrary to it. Hume's position is quite identical. Each person loves himself better than any other single person. It appears that in the original frame of our mind, our strongest attention is confined to ourselves. Our next is extended to our relatives and acquaintances, etc. Nay, ere long, it comes to be seen

that there is an inconsistency in the admission of purely disinterested affections at all. However strongly their existence is affirmed, the necessity of the case tends, to an explanation of them which finds their origin in egoistic principles. That Hume should derive justice from the selfish impulse in man is comprehensible. But in addition to this, there are attempts even to give a rationale of sympathy of a kind, which robs it of its primary disinterested character.

E.G. The minds of all men are similar in their feelings and operations, nor, or can anyone be actuated by any affection of which, all others are not in some degree susceptible. As in strings equally wound up, the motion of one communicates itself to the rest, so all the affections readily pass from one person to another and beget correspondent movements in every human creature. When I perceive the causes of any emotion, my mind is conveyed to its effects and is actuated by a like emotion. No passion of another discovers itself immediately to the mind. We are only sensible of its causes or effects. From these we infer the passion, and consequently these give rise to our sympathy. Sympathy is thus a sort of automatic process, by which

pains or pleasure similar to those we witness are reproduced in ourselves. When any question, or character, has a tendency to the good of mankind, we are pleased with it and approve of it, because it presents the lively idea of pleasure, which idea affects us by sympathy and is itself a kind of pleasure. It is the case accordingly that in the utilitarian schools which succeeded humor, the egoistic genesis of even benevolent sentiments is frankly recognized. And the motive of self-interest is invariably fallen back on as the ground of obligation. Footnote. Not by everyone so frankly as Bentham when he wrote. I am a selfish man as selfish as any man can be. But in me, somehow or other, so it happens. Selfishness is taken the shape of benevolence.

End a footnote. The representatives of these schools saw indeed that Hume's theory needed supplementing. They recognized what he did not, that obligation his reference not immediately to self-interest, but to law and authority. If men were left merely to consult what they considered their own interests in relation to moral action, society would soon fall to pieces. There is a necessity for an outward check or restraint. The law of the state, therefore, and the force of public opinion are the great elements in what Mr. Mill did. calls the external sanction of virtue. But clearly this is still an utterly inadequate account of obligation. Enforced obedience is no true obedience in the moral sense. It is only when we feel the law to be right, that we regard ourselves as under real obligation to perform it. This is virtually admitted

by Mr. Mill when he says, it is part of the notion of duty that a man may be rightfully, to perform it. When the man perceives this right in the compulsion, the obligation is already transferred to another sphere. Mr. Mill, however, lays comparatively little stress on the external sanction, as compared with what he calls the internal sanction. We question whether, after all, he has thereby approached much nearer the solution of the problem. This internal sanction is to ride from our social feelings, combined with education association and elements derived from other sources to which the evolutionary school would add the accumulated results of inheritance. The binding force then consists, Mr. Mill would tell us, in the mass of feeling,

which must be broken through in order to violate that standard of right, and which, if we do violate it, will have to be encountered in the specific, form of remorse. But why of remorse? Granted a nucleus of original moral ideas around which the mass of associated feelings gathers. We can understand the peculiar nature of the compound, but not otherwise. In accumulation of feelings, none of them originally moral can hardly by any chemistry of association developed features so marked and unique as those of the moral sentiments. Has this massive feeling no moral elements in the heart of it? Or is it something to which we must enforce, submit because we cannot now shake off its power?

Then ceases to the obligation the moment of man from any cause feels strong enough to break from a joke, even on the evolutionist hypothesis, that the feelings have implicit. influence, because in them is registered the experience of the race as to what is best for its life, efficiency, or well-being. This alone does not suffice to constitute obligation. The individual has still to be brought to perceive the reasonableness and duty of subordinating his individual will. It may be of sacrificing his personal interest to that which is best for the good of the whole. This brings us to the really crucial point in the judgment of Hume's in similar theories, the true nature of the moral end. Is it pleasure in Hume's sense of agreeable sensation?

Or is it something higher? Say the realization of man's complete nature in the due subordination of its power and capacities. The attainment, not of happiness in the sense of a sum of pleasures, but of perfection, which brings with it indeed their purpose. purest pleasures, but only as delight and satisfaction in the things which are esteemed, the true goods of the soul, among which the pure heart, the upright will, the wise mind, the social affections, will take the highest rank. It should by this time be a truth so well understood as to need no vindication that happiness in the true sense as real satisfaction of the self is not to be found by direct seeking of it.

but only by devotion to ends other than happiness, ends having value in themselves, and the pursuit and attainment of which happiness comes. But the subject requires a deeper elucidation. To test this theory, then, let us start with its root conception, that of Hobbes, Locke, Bentham, Mill, even of Mr. Spencer, as well as of hume, that good is merely a synonym for pleasure, A first question here might be. Is this even a possible end for a rational being,

not to say for one seeking to live rationally? Pleasure is a state of feeling and of individual feeling, but a rational being is one who, in virtue of his reason, has passed beyond mere feeling, has risen above it, has constituted for himself relations with his fellow men, and a realm of ends, in which his higher self and its interests have expressed themselves, who is the subject of desires' ambitions aims,

which only thought could originate, and a self-conscious agent experience. The self of the rational being is thus immensely larger than his egoistic self, takes in a world of persons an interest that lie beyond his narrow personal horizon. It is in the nature of things impossible, therefore, that such a being should not set before him ends other and higher than pleasure.

But even if it were possible to make pleasure, the sole end, a next question would be, is a life which has only pleasure for its end one worthy of a rational being? If he stoops to make pleasure his soul end, is he not consciously degrading and impoverishing himself? It can only be maintained that he is not, if there are no higher ends to which is rational, and spiritual nature points him. And this we explicitly deny to be the case. The answer that will be given to this kind of reasoning naturally will be that we are playing upon an ambiguity in the word pleasure, are using it in the sense of mere animal gratification,

whereas the utilitarian it will be held has in view the whole scale of pledges from lowest to highest, and equally with others, discriminates between their values. It is not strictly the case that all utilitarians do this. Mr. Bentham, for one, did not. Some, however, as J.S. Mill have done so, but thereby have only introduced into the system a new inconsistency. Obviously, as soon as we have introduced the element of quality into pleasures, we raise a new question, that of the standard or ideal. How else are we to determine which pleasures are high and which low,

which men ought to choose and which they ought to despise and reject? Reflection will show that in another respect. Whatever we introduce the idea of scale into pleasures, The problem is entirely changed. The pleasures we place higher in the scale, intellectual pleasures, e.g. or moral pleasures, cease to be mere pleasures. They are results, reflexes, accompaniments,

of the higher energies which give rise to them, and they derive their dignity and excellence solely from these. It is the objects of the energies which are the ends, not the pleasures. Take the case of benevolence, the disinterested seeking of another's welfare. This is, in a sense, the foundation of Hume's whole theory. It is the most strange that he did not perceive how, instead of being an instance of the seeking of pleasure, as one's only good. It is, in its very nature, a refutation of that principle.

Pleasure in the nature of the case is the pleasure of the person experiencing it, not of the person conferring it or of the mere spectator. The well-doer may derive pleasure from his benevolence or from seeing the happiness of others, but that pleasure is not the motive of his action. The good to which his action is directed is not his own good, but the good of another. Pleasure in the sense of an agreeable sensation to him is not his end, not the thing he desires, or which moves his will. To resolve the motive of benevolence into the pleasure derived from it by the doer is to deny its disinterested character and reduce it to a final form of selfishness. But in respect even other person benefited, must it be pleasure only which I desire for him? If my own well-being includes higher ends, why should his not do so also? If I regard a disinterested habit of soul as a good for myself, it cannot but be that I shall desire for others as well, and include it also in my ideal of the well-being of society. What is now said of benevolence applies to all the higher desires, which intelligence goes to constitute. desire of knowledge, desire of society, desire of power, desire of poverty, etc.

The pleasures are rising from these desires are no longer mere pleasures. They are accompaniments of energies directed to ends which are esteemed to be of worth for themselves, and hence beget pleasure. Finally, the question may be brought to the test of fact. Is it the case that all men do set happy? and the sense of pleasure, before them as their highest end and the only thing desirable. But this is what Hume and all utilitarians assume. We recall here, in the first place, a remark of Mr. Mills' own.

It is better to be a Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. We notice, secondly, the admission of all the higher class of utilitarians, that virtue ought to become an end and to be loved for its own sake. The mind, says Mr. Mill, is not in a right state, nor an estate conformable to utility, not an estate most conducive to the general happiness unless it does love virtue in this manner, as a thing desirable in itself. This, it must be felt, is a very remarkable position. The utilitarian tells us in the first instance that the rightness, the goodness of actions,

lies only in their conduciveness to happiness. Yet we are informed that it is right and even necessary, that men should come to believe in virtue as having a goodness and value in itself. Why it should be advantageous that men should come under this delusion is not very obvious. It seems like saying that, however true utilitarianism, itarianism may be, it is not desirable that men should believe in it, that practically it is necessary that they should act on another hypothesis. But thirdly, without dwelling on this, are there not numberless cases in which we judge that we ought to do a certain action but for higher reasons,

than merely that it conduces to happiness? Human regards justice as resting wholly on human convention. but are there not judgments in the sphere of justice which arise prior to and independently of all human sanction? When, for instance, we reflect that we ought to be fair and candid in our dealings with others even in our thoughts, is there no motive except that which such fairness and candor will be preeminently useful to society? Do we not feel that it would be in itself, an unworthy, thing to act otherwise. Unworthy of our own character and dignity as rational and moral beings. Do we not recognize that we ought to respect the rights of others, as Kant would say, for the sake of the humanity that is in them? Are we not bound to respect their liberty,

their consciences, their intelligence, their possessions lawfully acquired, on the simple grounds that they are persons? For the same reason, every man owes us a certain respect to himself and is bound to use every means to conserve and perfect his nature. Those qualities, e.g., which Hume specifies as useful or agreeable to oneself, self-control, magnanimity, tranquility, and the like, shall we say that it is their utility or agreeableness, which is the ground of which we pronounce them virtues? Why do we praise them? Is it not because we discern in them an intrinsic excellence, and is not their agreeableness to us simply the index and result of this high esteem in which we hold them? When Kant says there is nothing in the world

which can be termed absolutely an altogether good, a goodwill alone accepted. Do not we feel instinctively the nobility of his utterance and recognize that such a possession is more desirable than any amount of pleasure? It may be true, though it is far from being always the case, that the highest dignity and integrity of its nature brings with it also the greatest happiness. But the happiness assuredly is not the first thing aimed at. The man who would barter his integrity for any increase of pleasure

has no true integrity to barter. There is no coldness in Hume's praises of virtue, The outers rather the beauty and amiability of moral qualities than the character of acts as right and wrong that engage his interest. But the defect in his foundation weakens his whole structure and leaves him with no room for duty for duty's sake. Everything becomes precarious because based simply on the pleasing and customary. This is seen in the easy view he takes of male chastity

and in his defense of the right of suicide. There is no place for heroic virtue of any kind in Hume. His ethics, as Mr. Green remarked, never rise above the level of respectability. Language like Wordsworth in his ode to duty, or such as Carlisle's, on the eternal and infinite difference between right and wrong, would sound meaningless to him. Even justice in his hands sinks down to mere human artifice. As for the higher obligations and sanctions of religion, these, it is needless to say, altogether disappear.

End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Read by Ali Rose David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr. Section 10, Hume and Theology. Miracles

After metaphysics, there is perhaps no sphere in which Hume's influence has been so palpably felt as in theology. Hume is not, as we shall immediately see, to be offhand classed with English daisks or French atheists. His speculations went much deeper than those of either. On the one hand, he always professed, however inconsistently, some kind of belief in a supreme being. On the other, his philosophy was as fatal to the natural revelation of deism as it was to the supernatural revelation of Christianity. His arguments, a little altered, have passed into the camp of unbelief and taken a

permanent place in its armoury. It is significant that nearly every modern theorist on the subject of religion, dais, pantheist, agnostic, pessimist, believer in a limited god, and believer in no god at all, can find his share in Hume, and fortify himself by his reasonings. It was remarked in the introduction that in Hume, as in some of his contemporaries, the sense for religion appears almost entirely wanting. He tells Sir William Elliot, indeed apropos, of the dialogues concerning natural religion, that he begun his inquiries with a search for the arguments to confirm the common opinion, but that gradually doubts, quote, stole in, end quote. That stage, however, if it ever existed to any marked extent, was prehistoric in Hume's career. It antecedes any definite

knowledge we have of him. It is certain, as before hinted, that at a very early period, he had reasoned himself out of all positive beliefs in respect of religion, and had betaken himself for his ideals of life to his two favourites, Cicero and Virgil. The influences of French literature and society were not likely to do much towards the removal of this antipathy. And it is to be feared that his personal dissonal. position, his easy temper, his love of fame, his ingrained skeptical habit, made him naturally averse from any system which identified itself with earnest faith or intensity of moral purpose. It contributed to his aversion that the age in which he lived was one marked by a cold,

rationalising temper generally. The account he gives in one of his essays on the state of religion in his time recalls a well-known passage in Butler. Quote, most people in this island, end quote, he says, quote, have divested themselves of all superstitious reverence to names and authority. The clergy have lost much of their credit, their pretensions and doctrines have been ridiculed, and even religion can scarcely support itself in the world. End quote. It never enters Hume's mind. to doubt that morals, politics, social life, could go on quite well without religion. On the contrary, he has a firm persuasion that things would be better in its absence.

Philo's words in the dialogues may be assumed to be a true expression of his own sentiments on this point. Quote, if the religious spirit be ever mentioned in any historical narration, we are sure to meet afterwards with a detail of the miseries which attended it, and no period of time can be happier or more prosperous than those in which it is never regarded or heard of." End quote. Naturally, with such views, repugnance to everything savouring of, quote, priesthood, end quote, was one of the strongest passions of Hume's nature. And his customary synonym for religion was, quote, enthusiasm, end quote,

or, quote, fantasism, end quote. No doubt all this is spoken of the religion of the, quote, vulgar, end quote, or, quote, religion as it has commonly been found in the world, end quote, and quote. And exception is made, as we shall find, of the, quote, philosophical, end quote, religion, which resolves itself to the, quote, speculative tenet of theism, end quote, and is admittedly the possession of only a few. but the poverty of Hume's conception of religion generally is manifest in nearly every line he wrote about it. No man, Example, whoever really understood what true religion is would have written as he did in the essay on immortality. Quote, but if any purpose of nature be clear, may we affirm that the whole scope and intention of man's creation,

so far as we can judge by natural reason, is limited to the present life. There arise indeed, in some minds, some unaccountable terrors with regard to futurity. But those would quickly vanish, were they not artificially fostered by precept and example? And those who foster them? What is their motive? Only to gain a livelihood, and to acquire power and riches in this world. very zeal and industry, therefore, are an argument against them, end quote. It will not be questioned that Hume's philosophical principles were such as readily lent themselves to the purposes of the religious skeptic, and Hume was by no means slow to make the application.

His system had undermined the foundations of all certitude, and harmless though he might esteem this to be in the common affairs of life, the case was different when, you know, it came to questions of religion. His aim here avowedly was, quote, to subvert the obtruse philosophy and metaphysical jargon which, being mixed up with popular superstition, renders it in a manner impenetrable to careless reasoners, and gives it the air of superior wisdom. End quote. This could readily be accomplished by a system which grounded all our knowledge and beliefs on sense experiences. Our inferences may be valid for practical purposes within the circle of experience, but we have no guarantee that they are so beyond it. Hence, all questions are at once ruled out,

which relate to God, the origin of the world, providence, destiny, and the future life. How far he meant to include Christianity among his, quote, popular superstitions, end quote, may be gathered from other parts of his writings. The end of his end of his own. The end of the end of Essay on Miracles is a bold attempt to reduce Christianity, as respects its historical foundations, to a tissue of fables believed only by those who are willing to part with their reason. Quote, our most holy religion, end quote, he says, quote, is found on faith, not reason, and it is a sure method of exposing it to put it to such trial as it is by no means fitted to bear, end quote. We may conjecture how much, quote, faith, end quote.

Hume would be prepared to concede to a system against which reason was in arms. This mocking deferrence to a religion in which he had no particle of real belief is one of the most offensive features in his writings. The adding, if that were possible, of insult to injury. In the essay on parties, he takes an opportunity of showing in what esteem he held the system here denominated, quote, our most holy religion, end quote, Christianity is there represented as a, quote, sect, end quote, which owed its success to certain accidental circumstances, and the result of which has been to the world, quote, the greatest misery and devastation, end quote. The, quote, furious persecutions of Christianity, end quote, he traces for the most part to, quote, the imprudent

zeal and bigotry of the first propagators of the sect, end quote. Of good effects, resulting from Christianity, there is no mention. It is no real contradiction of this, though a fact curious in itself, that, as a concession to the prejudice of the, quote, vulgar, end quote, Hume was willing to have an established church on the Presbyterian model two in his ideal commonwealth. His establishment was meant as a curb on religious enthusiasm. not as a means of promoting religion save for the philosophical and quote sort as mr leslie stephen says of shaftesbury quote the church was excellent as a national refrigerator but no cultivated person could believe in its doctrines end quote in looking at hume's positions more in detail we have first to seek to make clear to ourselves his attitude to theism we may begin with his natural history of religion

which was published in his lifetime this production which it would not be unjust to describe as a daring piece of satire yet with a definite enough purpose in the heart of it forms an essential part of hume's system for even if it be granted that the idea of a supernatural is an illusion the belief is still at least there as a psychological fact to be accounted for there are two questions we are told to be considered in relation to religion. 1. Concerning its foundations in human reason, and 2. Concerning its origin in human nature. Quote, happily, end quote, says the skeptic, quote, The former question, which is the more important, admits of the most obvious, at least the clearest solution.

The whole frame of nature bespeaks an intelligent author, and no rational inquirer can, after serious reaction, suspend his belief for a moment with regard to the primary principles of genuine theism and religion. We are apt to suspect that here again we are on the track of sarcasm, and the rest of the treatise shows us that beyond doubt we are. The direct purpose of the work is to prove that in reality the belief in God and in supernatural existences, had a very different origin in men's ignorance and superstitious fears religion has no basis in the essential nature of man springs not from an original instinct or primary impression of nature end quote but arises from quote secondary principles mainly from man's hopes and fears in view of uncertainties and contrary events of nature and life hume's treatment in this as in most of his other works has the decided merit of showing clearly where his true issue lies if man's nature is not conceived of a spiritual and religion is not regarded as springing from the depths of that nature in the consciousness of a relation to a supernatural power necessity is laid on the theorist for accounting for it from purely psychological i e non-religious and irrational causes this is precisely what hume attempts to do in the treatise in question

His work is not only the precursor of that long strain of, quote, natural histories of religion, end quote, with which the, quote, science of religion, end quote, has made us so familiar, but is wonderfully acute in some of its anticipations of modern theories. Dr. Taylor will readily recognize his, quote, animistic, end quote, principle in such a sentence as the following. quote, there is a universal tendency among men to conceive all beings like themselves and to transfer to every object those qualities of which they are intimately conscious, end quote. Through this principle with the help of the, quote, allegorizing, end quote, as the moderns would say mythological tendency and the deification of heroes, Hume believes himself able to explain the rise of polytheism. In his view,

the earliest form of religion, and the only one possible to man, when he was yet, quote, a barbarous necessitous animal, end quote. The next step is to show how, quote, this gross polytheism of the vulgar, end quote, passed into monotheism. And here Hume may certainly claim to be original. He explains the transition wholly by reference to the tendency in men to magnify and flatter those on whom they depend. The same principle of flattery leads them to ascribe to the deity, the formation of the world. This is on a level with his theory of the origin of, quote, priests, end quote, who he says, quote, may justly be regarded as proceeding from one of the grossest inventions

of a timorous and abject superstition, end quote. He goes on, finally, to compare these two forms of religion, polytheism and monotheism, in their character and effect, the result, in every case turning out in favour of polytheism. Thus, in regard to toleration, quote, the intolerance of almost all religions which have maintained the unity of God is as remarkable as the contrary principle of polytheists, end quote. Having thus completely nullified his original concession, he concludes with a few general corollaries, of which, the satire is scarcely concealed. But Hume has not left us in ignorance of the real value he put on the theistic proof,

that, quote, admirable adjustment of final causes, end quote, which on occasion we find him extolling. His posthumous dialogues concerning natural religion, and his essay on, quote, Providence and a Future State, end quote, bear mainly on this and related topics. The dialogues, elaborated and revised with the utmost care, and bequeathed to his executors under stringent provisions for their publication, may be regarded as the most mature expression of his opinions on these grave subjects of any of his works. They are constructed somewhat on the model of Cicero's discussion on the nature of the gods, and close in language almost identical with his.

Hume evidently regards the whole question of theism as a perfectly open, one, as much can always be said on the one side as on the other, or rather, as he exerts himself in the sceptical interest to the show generally a great deal more against theism than for it. Dima, the defender of faith that repudiates reason, serves mainly as a foil to the other two disputants. Of the latter, it is easy to see that it is into the arguments of Philo, the skeptic, that Hume puts his whole strength, while Clianthes, with his solemn rhetoric about the testimony which universal creation bears to,

quote, its intelligent author, end quote, quote, the whole chorus of nature raises one hymn to the praises of its creator, end quote. Advances arguments only to have the bottom taken out of them by Philo, and in any case does not argue for more than a being, quote, finitely perfect, though far exceeding mankind." It is Clianthes with whom, as we saw,

Hume would have his friends believe he is personally most in agreement. But, as Fylo does no more than reason from Hume's own principles on causation and the nature of the mind, and in every case gains an easy argumentative victory over his opponent, it is difficult to credit this preference. If, towards the close, Fylo himself is allowed to assume the pious role, and to claim on his, quote, adoration to the divine being as he discovers himself to reason in the inexplicable contrivance and artifice of nature, end quote, one knows what value to put on this profession. While the previous reasonings are unrefuted, on both sides, of course, the disputants have

accultivated, quote, abhorrence of vulgar superstitions, end quote, how far Hume did allow any academic value to the theistic arguments is considered below. The question of theism in a speculative point of view is at the bottom simply that of a rational and moral constitution in men and things. Man, as a rational being, finds himself in a rationally constituted universe. He cannot, therefore, without self-contradiction,

construe it to himself otherwise than as proceeding from an intelligence kindred in principle with his own. He is self-conscious and personal. He cannot, therefore, think of the ultimate principle and the cause of things in terms lower than those of self-consciousness and personality. He is above all moral, and cannot, without renunciation of his ethical standpoint, regard the universe as other than a moral system, proceeding from a moral will,

and subserving moral ends. The Theist, in other words, takes in earnest what he, can, at most admit only dialectically or sceptically, that deity is, quote, mind or thought, end quote, and draws out this admission to its legitimate conclusions. From this standpoint, everything in religion assumes a new aspect, and admits of a new interpretation, from the dim gropings of the savage after a higher than himself, whose presence he feels even where he cannot articulately express the nature of his. his feelings, to the tendency constantly evinced in thought and aspiration to rise from finite to

infinite, from the caused to the uncaused, from the temporal to the eternal, from the conditioned to the unconditioned. To one occupying this standpoint, Hume's skeptical dialects, based on the contrary assumption of the non-rational constitution of man and the universe, must always appear frivolous. What are his objections to the theistic hypothesis? First, and perhaps mainly, that the whole subject is, quote, quite beyond the reach of our faculties, end quote. The analogy between what we call thought in man and the infinite intelligence we assume as the cause of the universe is so inconceivably remote that no inference from one to the other is warrantable. quote,

What peculiar advantage has this little agitation on the brain, which we call thought, that we must thus make it in the model of the whole universe? If thought, as we may well suppose, be confined merely to the narrow corner, and even there is so limited a sphere of action, with what propriety can we assign it for the cause of all things? end quote. In the next place, our belief in causation rests solely on the custom of seeing objects and events in invariable conjunction, and therefore fails us where, as in the present case,

custom cannot operate. Quote, our ideas reach no further than experience, end quote. But, quote, we have no experience of divine attributes and, quote, we have no experience of divine attributes and operations, end quote. In causation, we are entitled only to infer from the observed cases to similar cases, but here, quote, does not the greatest disproportion bar all comparison and inference, end quote. Reasoning from causation rests on experienced conjunctions, but there is no, quote, no experience of the origin of worlds, end quote.

How can the argument have place, quote, where the objects, as in the present case, are singular, individual, without parallel, or specific resemblance, end quote. As he puts the point in the essay of Providence, the world is, quote, a singular effect, end quote. Or, viewing the cause as an ideal plan in the divine mind, must we not say that this, collection of ideas needs another cause to explain it, and so add infinitum. Hume's reasoning here is so deliciously illustrative of the conception he forms of a rational mind that a few sentences must be quoted. Quote, have not we the same reason to trace that ideal world into another ideal world, or a new intelligent principle? But if we stop and go no further, why go so far? Why not

stop at the material world, to say that the different ideas which compose the reason of the supreme being fall into order of themselves, and, by their own nature, is really to talk without meaning. If it has a meaning, I would fain know why it is not as good sense to say, that the parts of the material world fall into order of themselves, and by their own nature, if it requires a cause in both, What do we gain by your system in tracing the universe of objects into a similar universe of ideas? The first step which we make leads us on forever. It were therefore wise in us to limit all our inquiries to the present world without looking further. The whole point being that a rational mind can think and form a plan,

while the parts of the material world cannot. A more trenchant, because really inductive argument, is based on the imperfection, evil, and a misery of the world, which, it is argued, negatives the idea of a perfectly wise and beneficent author of the universe. Mr. Mills' famous indictment of nature in his three essays on religion is ably anticipated in these sections of Humes. In the essay of Providence and a future state, the article argument is directed to prove that the safety of the state and social order generally are as secure without the belief in a providence as with it. For Hume, reasons on the principle that we are not entitled to put into the cause more than we find in the effect, it is illegitimate to

ascribe to the creator greater perfection than already belongs to the material order, taken by itself. The order of the world being, in any case what it is, the assumption of a Providence adds nothing to it, and the argument for a future life based on the injustices of the present state likewise falls, for we have no warrant to infer any more perfect justice than the facts of the present disclose. To Hume's reasoning, like Mills, it must be replied, first, that their picture of the evil and misery wrought by mere nature is egregiously overcharged. On Hume's principles, the only consistent philosophy of the existence would be pessimism. But the description is an exaggeration.

The, quote, nature red in tooth and claw, end quote. Theory is only one aspect of the facts. There is sound sense in Paley's rejoinder. Quote, it is a happy world after all. The air, the earth, the water's team with delightful existence, end quote. But next it is not solely on induction from nature that belief in the perfection of the creator is established. It stands or falls in truth with the reality of the moral ideal. The man whose faith is anchored there will not lack the power to discern a moral system,

if in imperfect degree, even in nature. How then has the universe, with its wondrous, quote, adjustments, end quote, which are not denied, come into existence. That problem remains even if the theistic explanation is rejected. Here, in the person of his skeptic, Hume fairly reveals in hypotheses. It would hardly seem as if there need be any difficulty. So fertile is he in the invention of theories. Need there be any cause at all? For the principle of causation engendered through custom has no application beyond the sphere of experience. Or why should not the world, as the old philosophers thought, be analogous to an animal or vegetable, having the principle of its development within itself?

Order, arrangement, or the adjustments of final causes, is not of itself any proof of design. Quote, but only so far as it has been experienced to proceed from that principle, end quote. Nay, even the Epicurean hypothesis of a, quote, fortuitous concourse of, atoms, end quote, is not beyond defense. Quote, a finite number of particles is only susceptible of finite transpositions, and it must happen in an internal duration that every possible order or position must be tried an infinite number of times. No one who has a conception of the powers of infinite in comparison of finite will ever scruple this determination, end quote. It would be idly,

to refute these fantasies. The fallacy of that last lies in supposing that the fortuitous clashing of elements, even through infinite duration, must result in all possible combinations, even such as we attribute to mind. That, it is certain, an aimless concourse would never do. Any more than a compositor's types, clashing together to all eternity, would produce an Iliad, a hamlet, or a treatise of human nature, though that is a possible combination of them. The matter is not mended when, as in Darwinism, processes essentially fortuitous are clothed with sounding titles like, quote, natural selection, end quote, and quote, survival of the fittest, end quote.

In the essay on the immortality of the soul, suppressed in Hume's lifetime, similar modes of reasoning are employed to destroy all physical or metaphysical arguments for immortality. It seems to hume that, in words already quoted, quote, if any purpose of nature be clear, we may affirm that the whole scope and intention of man's creation, so far as we can judge by natural reason, is limited to the present life, end quote.

Widly different has been the judgment formed of man's capacities, by other and deeper thinkers, from Plato down to Wordsworth and Browning, and even J. S. Mill. The essay commences and concludes in Hume's most reprehensible mock pious style. Quote, in reality it is the gospel and the gospel alone, which has brought life and immortality to light, end quote. Quote, nothing could set in a fuller light the infinite obligations which mankind have to defy revelation, since we find that no other medium would ascertain this great and important truth, end quote. A, quote, truth, end quote, which is represented in the essay, not only as unsupported

by reason, but as positively outraging it. Is Hume's final attitude to theism then, to be described as one of absolute negation, or only as one of skepticism? If regard be had to, solely to the principles of his philosophy, there can be no hesitation as to the answer, for through them the foundations of theism are undeniably destroyed. On the other hand, if any weight is to be attached to Hume's own repeated professions, if they are not simply to be regarded as accommodations to popular opinion, like his admiration for, quote, our most holy religion, end quote, he did stop short in practice of this extreme position, and gave theism the benefit of the academic doubt.

The frame of things, he would allow, did suggest the idea of an intelligent author. Though the instant the solvents of reason were applied to it, the grounds of that belief or tendency to belief vanished. But when the utmost is granted to Hume that he ever thought of claiming, this theism is found to be a purely speculative, inoperative thing, hardly deserving to be described by so dignified a name. It is a theism between which, and atheism, as comes out in the close of the dialogues, the difference is only verbal.

It amounts to no more than the acknowledgement of the probability, quote, that the principle which first arranged and still maintains order in the universe, end quote, bears also, quote, some remote inconceivable analogy to the other operations of nature, and among the rest, to the economy of human nature and thought, end quote. In respect of moral attributes, if such can be spoken of at all, this, quote, principle, end quote, is that a still greater remove from man. Moreover, this belief in deity, such as it is entirely OTO's, it is not a

allowed any more than the idle belief of the Epicurean in his gods to have any influence on affection or conduct. It excludes prayer. As Hume succinctly summed it up in his letter on Dr. Leachman's sermon, the religion of the rational man is confined to, quote, the practice of morality and the assent of the understanding to the proposition that God exists, end quote. Here, Hume drew the line for himself with a large mark of interrogation behind. Hume's task, however, was not finished. On the basis of reasonings, like the above, the fated of historical revelation was no longer doubtful. Since, however, in that age, belief in the revelation was supposed to be supported chiefly

by the evidence of miracles, it remained for Hume, as the culmination of his philosophical undertaking to subvert effectually that reputed foundation of the Christian religion. This is the work he takes in hand in the most famous of all his skeptical writings, the essay on miracles. It has been seen in an earlier chapter how the idea of the essay originated. Hume himself, with that complacency which never failed him when judging of his own performances, regarded its reasonings as absolutely fatal to the belief assailed. quote i flatter myself end quote he says quote that i have discovered an argument of like nature to that of tillostin against transubstantiation

which if just will with the wise and learned be an everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion and consequently will be useful as long as the world endues for so long i presume will that will be useful as long as the world endues for so long i presume will that the accounts of miracles and prodigies be found in all history, sacred and profane, end quote. Notwithstanding this preliminary flourish of trumpets, it is not difficult to show that this celebrated argument of Humes, in the form in which he presents it, is little better than an elaborate sophism. Its essence may be said to be contained in the two following propositions. quote, a miracle is a violation of the laws of nature, and, as a firm, unalterable experience, has established these laws, the proof against a miracle, from the nature of the case, is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined, end quote.

Quote, no testimony is sufficient to establish a miracle, unless this testimony be of such a kind that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact which it endeavours to establish, end quote. Something might be said in Lemine of the definition of miracle as a, quote, violation, end quote, of the laws of nature, and on the manifest inconsistency of the reasoning with Hume's own account of the origin of our belief in the uniformity of nature. How can a belief, which is simply a product of custom, of subject, association of ideas be set up as a bar against any number of, quote, violations, end quote, of the ordinary course of nature. To make good his contention, Hume would have to show that the power

of custom was so strong that what he calls a, quote, violation, end quote, of the laws of nature, was not even conceivable, or at least believable by us. But then his argument would not have been needed, and would have been stultified by his own admission that, quote, accounts of miracles and prodigies, end quote, are found in all history. More important is the objection that, taken on its own merits, the argument is a glaring begging of the question, quote, a firm and unalterable experience, end quote,

Hume says, quote, has established these laws, end quote. Even this, it may. may be remarked in passing, is an erroneous statement. Belief in a law of nature does not, as a rule, rest on any such induction from universal experience. How, if it did, could the, quote, firm and unalterable experience, end quote, ever be proved? Many laws are quite recent discoveries, and rest on a very few observed instances. A few crucial experiments in a laboratory, may establish the existence of a law to the satisfaction of all thinking men. Besides, as has often been pointed out in this way of putting it,

there can be no proper contrast between, quote, experience, and quote, testimony, end quote, or room for the mathematical weighing of the one against the other. All the experience we have on this, or any similar point, except our own, only reaches us through testimony. Two things may be supposed to be covered by Hume's statement that, quote, a firm and unalterable experience has established, end quote, the laws of nature.

It may mean, one, that experience has established, that there are laws of nature, or two, that experience has established that no event ever take place in, quote, violation, end quote, of these laws. On either supposition, the reasoning must be pronounced fallacious. No one questions that there are laws of nature. The strength of the argument must lie, therefore, in the assertion that, quote, firm and unalterable experience, end quote, has established that none but natural causes

have ever been concerned in the production of events, that natural laws in Hume's phrase, have never been, quote, violated, end quote. But this is very manifestly the begging of the very point at issue, for the assertion of a miracle is precisely the assertion that this has not been the universal experience. The, quote, firm and unalterable experience, end quote, can only be gained by discrediting beforehand all testimony to miracle, by refusing it a hearing.

quote, it is a miracle, end quote, Hume says, quote, that a dead man should ever come back to life, because that has never been observed in any age or country, end quote. But then, has it not? That is the very question to be answered. There is no need for going through the form of an argument if the whole matter is to be taken for granted at the outset. Better say at once with Mr. Arnold.

Quote, miracles do not. happen, end quote, and leave it so. Mr. J.S. Mill is conscious of this weakness of Hume's argument and seeks to avoid some of these objections by giving it a new turn. He interprets it to mean simply that no testimony can ever prevail against a complete induction. This is not the shape that Hume himself gave it, but even so, it is interesting to observe that Mr. Mill does not admit its cogency. The assertion of a miracle he concedes contradicts nothing which the experience of mankind has, quote, firmly and unalterably established, end quote. His own words are worth quoting, quote, in order that any alleged fact, end quote, he says, quote, should be contradictory to all law

of causation. The allegation must be, not simply that the cause exists. existed without being followed by the effect, for that would be no uncommon occurrence, but that this happened in the absence of any adequate counteracting cause. Now, in the case of an alleged miracle, the assertion is the exact opposite of this. It is that the effect was defeated, not in the absence, but in the consequence of a counteracting cause, namely a direct interposition of an act of the will of some being who has power over nature, and in particular of a being, whose will being assumed to have endowed all the causes with the powers by which they produce their effects may well be supposed to be able to

counteract them. Of the adequacy of that cause, if present, there can be no doubt, and the only antecedent improbability, which can be ascribed to the miracle, is the improbability that any such cause existed." End quote. What real cogency Hume's argument possesses does not lie in these logical subtleties. Based on the assumed, quote, firm and unalterable experience, end quote, but in the other direction of the strong antecedent in probability of deviations from the known cause of nature. As compared with the admitted fallibility of the human testimony, everyone recognises that the presumption against a really miraculous event is so strong as, in ordinary circumstances to be practically insuperable. As Hume argues, the course of nature is uniform,

while human testimony is notoriously fallible. How then shall the one ever be successfully pitted against the other? The simply unusual is frequently discredited on this ground, often with the excess of skepticism. How much more the positively miraculous? Even here, however, it may be shown that Hume pushes his argument beyond its due bounds. The improbability in question is felt when these circumstances are ordinary, but what if they are extraordinary? Hume assumes that the presumption against a miracle must always be practically infinite, but everything here depends on circumstances.

It is quite conceivable that the circumstances may be such as not only to create no antecedent presumption against the miracle, but to yield a strong presumption for it. A miracle, that is, can never be treated as a wholly isolated event. If it is, the presumption against it will be invariably strong. If the miracle, in addition to being sporadic, is frivolous or absurd, as, example, in the case of Mr. Arnold's prodigy of the pen, being turned into a pen-wiper, or Professor Huxley's centaur trotting down the street,

it may be summarily dismissed from consideration. Where, on the other hand, the miracle is not isolated, but stands in a context which renders it rational and credible, the case is widely altered. Given example to state the Christian position, such a person as Jesus Christ declared himself to be the miracles that are attributed to him become in the highest degree natural events to be expected from such and one. Given again a great scheme of divine revelation extending through many ages in successive historical dispensations it is in itself anything but incredible that miracles should have been employed in the founding of these dispensations or in connection with them.

Even in nature, it can be argued the founding of a new kingdom, or rise from a lower to a higher, as at the introduction of life, cannot well be construed without something analogous to miracle. This is a class of considerations which Hume takes no account, perhaps was incapable of of appreciating. But Hume shows himself equally in error in unduly belittling the force of the testimony for miracle. Here, as in the other case, everything depends on the circumstances.

Human testimony may generally be very faulty, but there are instances in which testimony is given by such persons, of such character, and under such conditions, that it would do more violence to reason wholly to reject, than it would do to accept their witness. Testimony is not to be measured by the mathematical rules of which Hume is so fond, so many instances for the general rule, so many for this particular exception to it.

There is not necessarily any real contradiction between the two sets of experiences. Contradiction can only arise where, of two persons on the spot, one affirms and the other denies. When the two conditions which have been mentioned concide, one, a presumption in the nature of the case not against, but for the miracle, and two, the testimony of a reliable witness, in cases where the matter is one on which they are plainly competent to judge, the evidence for miracle instead of being weak may be very strong indeed. It may be noted as a last criticism on Hume's argument that it narrows down the testimony for miracles to exclusively to individual testimony. It is overlooked that miracle may be verifiable on the large scale as well as on the small,

so that it may sometimes be easier to establish the supernatural character of a general system than to verify all the particular miracles connected with its parts or collieries. Even as respects testimony, the individual form is far from being the only, or always, even, the most important one. There is, example, such a thing as the testimony of the collective or national consciousness, which may retain the memory of great events where individual witnesses can no longer be identified, or, as in Christianity, the witness of the consciousness of the historic church to the great facts connected with its origin. But this class of considerations, again, is quite foreign to the mode of thought of our author, who, confident of having destroyed the defences of revealed religion,

closes with great satisfaction in his usual strain of satire. quote, so that upon the whole we may conclude that the Christian religion not only was at first attended with miracles, but even at this day cannot be believed by any reasonable person without one. Mere reason is insufficient to convince us of its veracity, and whoever is moved by faith to assent to it is conscious of a continued miracle in his own person, which subverts all the principles of his understanding, and gives him a determination to believe what is most contrary to custom and experience." End of Chapter 10. Chapter 11 of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology. This is a Liverwax

recording. All Liverfox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit livervox.org. David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr. Hume's miscellaneous writings, political economy, Hume as historian. Under the heading of miscellaneous writings, we have in view, chiefly the essays, Moral and Political, originally published in 1741, to two, changes and additions after, and the political discourses, which appeared first in 1752. The whole subsequently comprised under essays and treatises on several subjects.

The essays were Hume's first popular writings, and in the main deserved their popularity. They are written with excellent taste and finish, and though by no means the most important part of Hume's contribution to literature. are nearly always learned, thoughtful, and suggestive. As already told, they were commenced with a view to weekly publication on the model of the spectator and the craftsmen, and affect the easy, natural treatment proper to that class of composition, dividing the elegant part of mankind into the learned and the conversable. Hume describes himself as a kind of ambassador,

whose mission it is to promote a good correspondence between the two states. He accepts Addison's definition of fine writing as consisting of sentiments which are natural without being obvious, and sets it before him as his aim to earn that distinction for his own performances. Save, however, for some papers of the slighter sort, afterwards dropped. The essays are of too solid and durable quality to be well adapted for the purposes of mere polite recreation. Even the eustrusis of them is marked by the utmost literary care. No one who reads the papers on delicacy of taste, on eloquence, on simplicity and refinement in writing, will doubt that Hume had bestowed great pains on the study of style,

and on the canons of literary excellence generally, and that, however, curiously arise some of his own critical judgments, unquestionably were, he entertained on the whole very correct views on these subjects. The essay, on the standard of taste in particular, later in date than the others, is in its way a model of fine writing on a purely literary theme. It abounds in just and discriminating observations, and manifests on every page the author's own refinement of judgment and delicacy of taste. A favorite method of Hume in the essays is to lay down his thesis in the form of a paradox, bringing up first all that can be said against it, then proceeding to explain, illustrate, and defend his own position. One incidental advantage of the essays is that, they frequently afford interesting sidelines on Hume's

opinions in regard to subjects other than those of which the essay directly treats. The Amstruce philosophy is now indeed left wholly behind. Impressions and ideas have disappeared, and we stand on the broad ground

of common humanity. The transformation is so curious that the reflective reader can hardly help sometimes being amused by it. No longer are causes and effects arbitrary conjunctions of phenomena, but effects will always correspond to causes, and the rational connection between the two is so clearly seen,

that effect may be deduced from cause with perfect certainty. The principles from which the author reasons are no longer precarious subjective assumptions, but eternal and irrefutable truths, e.g. so great is the force of laws and of particular forms of government, and so little dependence have they on the humors and tempers of men, their consequences almost as general and certain may sometimes be deduced from them

as anything which the mathematical sciences afford us. The inconveniences of an elective monarchy are such as are founded on clauses and principles eternal and immutable. An observation of Machiavel, which I think may be regarded as one of those eternal political truths which no time nor accidents can vary. A special interest attaches to the political essays as showing how Hume's mind, even at this early date, was working forward to his great history. Most of the principles of the history, in fact, are already here in noose. the evidence of extensive reading in the history of the past, of keen powers of observation, of accurate comparison of forms of political government, of the habit of mind that is not content

till it has traced effects to their causes and particular facts to the general principles that explain them. There is the same wide knowledge of human nature and interest in its workings as in the history, the same philosophic impartiality or affectation of it, the same inability to comprehend the profounder springs of human action, the same intends antipathy to priesthood and fanaticism. In one of his letters he says of the essay on the Protestant succession, I treat that subject as clearly and indifferently as I would the dispute between Caesar and Ponte. His views on the general principles of government and the workings of different constitutions are based on a wide induction from Greek and Roman, Venetian, Italian, French, and other forms of rule, and are frequently marked by shrewd insight. His own judgment is in favor of such a balance of the Constitution as existed in England, a mixed monarchy with the hereditary ruler, though from the first there is all too favor of.

an estimate of the effects of despotism. It may therefore be pronounced, he says, as a universal axiom in politics. That end hereditary prince, a nobility without vassals, and a people voting by the representatives form the best monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. Yet, while not unfriendly to a Republican the abstract, he avows. I would frankly declare that, though liberty be preferable to slavery, in almost every case, yet I should rather wish to see an absolute monarch than a republic in this island. One thing which unduly biased hume in favor of absolutism was what he took to be the peculiar success of that form of monarchy in France. Though not blind to the evils of oppressive taxation in that country, he had not the dimmest perception of the terrible

catastrophe that was repairing beneath the brilliant surface he be held, and thought the mischiefs could be remedied by a better system of finance. He was strangely insensible to the evils of even such a government as that of Turkey, and had a high opinion of the integrity, gravity, and bravery of the Turkish people, a candid, sincere people, he calls them. Yet there is a difference between the earlier and the later Hume, on this point of attachment to political liberty, though it must be owned that the distinction is at best a relative one. When Hume first wrote, the English Revolution was not far behind, and the crown had long been dependent on weak support. But change was impending, and while Hume's sympathies were in the main with

freedom, he took up from his philosophic standpoint, a very detached attitude to parties in general. he says of his essay on the Protestant succession. The conclusion shows me a wig, but a very skeptical one. Walpole, the head of the party, had been empowered for well-nigh a generation, an in an essay which he wrote on that statesman, afterwards reduced to a note. Hume showed that he had formed no means to flattering a judgment on his character and administration. During his time, he says, trade has flourished, liberty declined, and learning gone to ruin. As I am a man, I love him. As I am a scholar, I hate him. As I am a Britain, I calmly wish his fall. Probably the most genuine evidence of his interest in freedom is his defense, still how far from the elevated note of Milton. of the liberty of the press in his essay on that subject in the earlier editions.

In the course of the discussion, he says, it has also been proved as the experience of mankind increases, that the people are no such dangerous monsters as they have been represented, and that it is, in every respect, better to guide them, like rational creatures than to lead or drive them like brute beasts. But it is significant that the passage contained, these liberal sentiments, were subsequently expunged, and at the close of his essay on parties in Great Britain, he made a yet more general retraction. Some of the opinions in these essays he writes,

with regard to the public transactions in the last century, the author, on more accurate examination, found occasion to retract in his history of Great Britain. Nor is he ashamed to acknowledge which is mistakes. These mistakes were indeed at that time, almost universal in that kingdom. Of all Hume's essays, however, the most important are unquestionably those originally published under the title of Political Discourses. In the present state of economical science, indeed, the essays contain scarcely anything which we may not find much better stated elsewhere. but in a historical respect, they form a link in the development of that science of no mean importance. The political discourses of Mr. Hume, says Douglas Stewart, in his life of Adam Smith,

we're certainly a greater use to Mr. Smith than any other book that it would be in prior to his lectures. Adam Smith, strangely enough, does not take much direct notice of Hume in the wealth of nations, But the careful reader will easily discern Hume's influence, and will observe that incidentally. There are a few of Hume's speculations which are not taken up and carefully considered. In this connection, the essays on money, interest, the balance of trade, the jealousy of trade, taxes, and public credit are the most important. The spirit in all these papers is identical with that of the wealth of nations. In the very first sentence of the essay on money, e.g., we have the keynote of Smith's epip-making work. Money is not, properly speaking, one of the subjects of commerce.

It is indeed evident that money is nothing but the representation of labor and commodities, and serves only as a means of rating or estimating them. Hence the folly, Hume goes on to show of supposing, as had been done, by nearly all European nations, that the real wealth of a country could be increased by the mere increase of its gold and silver. This is exactly the era which, under the name of, the mercantile system, Adam Smith spends his strength in combating, sometimes in language that might seem almost an echo of Hume's own. On certain minor points, indeed, he differs from Hume. For instance, on the question whether, even in the case of war,

or of any negotiations with the foreign power, an abundance of the precious metal is, as Hume supposes, any real advantage. But in regard to main principles, the two are perfectly at one. So again on the question of commerce and free trade, Hume shows unanswerably as Smith did, more fully after him,

that no policy can ever be wholesome, which attempts to place restraints either on home manufacture or on foreign commerce. He maintains the thesis that the tendency of industry, arts, and trades is to increase the power of the sovereign, as well as the happiness of the subject. The true policy of any country, therefore, must ever be to encourage trade and manufacture, as bringing commodities into the market and into contact with the circulating species. As in the former case, there are parts of Hume's and,

exposition to which well-grounded exception may be taken. But on the whole, his defense of the principle of unrestricted competition will be a comparison with that of his more illustrious successor. It is strange that with such clear views of the fallacies involved in the idea of a balance of trade, Hume should have remained so enamored as he was of the idea of a balance of power in politics. He regarded this as a secret in politics fully known, only. to the present age, and devoted an essay to the discussion of the question, whether the idea of the balance of power be owing entirely to modern policy, or whether the phrase only has been invented in these later ages. He was not withal, insensible to the fact that the principle had

been pushed much too far in the politics of his time, in certain other respects, as in his idea that attacks on German linen, encourages home manufacturers and thereby multiplies our people and industry, and that attacks on brandy, increases the sale of rum, and supports our foreign colonies. He is clearly an inconsistency with his own principles. It is chiefly, however, on the subject of bank credit, paper currency, and related topics that his view, though ingeniously explained and defended, are out of accord with those of modern economists, and had been most convincingly refuted by experience. Hume was unduly influenced by the dread of banishing the precious metals from the country, a fear from which again his own reasonings might have saved him.

But he confesses that the subject is extremely complicated, and states fairly enough the advantages of the system he opposes. The originality of the economical speculations of Hume will hardly be questioned. He had few predecessors in England, and the French economist, Kessna, Turgo, and others of their school had not yet written. In fact, a powerful influence of Hume may be traced in these authors, as well as in Adam Smith. The discourses were early translated into French, and Turgle himself produced a choice. translation of several of them. It remains now to speak of Hume in that department of his work, in which his fame culminated, viz, as historian. A truly great history is a work of art. Lord McCauley

represents history as occupying the borderland between reason and imagination, and therefore is coming partly under the jurisdiction of both. The solid qualities of the historian, learning, sound sentence are all important. But he fails in the higher department of his work if he cannot end addition, throw over the details of his narration, the fresh interest and warm glow of imagination. If he cannot combine vivid and picturesque descriptions of situations and incidents, with the philosophical exhibition of the course and connection of events. It was in these higher qualities of historical presentation that Hume showed himself a master. His history, as we shall immediately see, was far from perfect, abounded indeed in faults.

But its excellences were also conspicuous. Gibbon declared that its ease and grace filled him with a mix of sensation of delight and despair. Hume has the rare art of presenting the circumstances of a long and comprehensively. trink of events in such a light that the art is hidden by the apparent naturalness of the arrangement. Few have excelled him in the picturesque and vivid groupings of details, and in the combination of elaborate description with clearness, simplicity, and ease. He has the eye of the artists for the things that contribute to dramatic effect, and when he finds a subject suited to his pen, as, for instance, the gunpowder conspiracy, or the meeting of the long parliament,

or the trial of King Charles, or on another plane, such a chapter of court scandal as the rise and the moors of Somerset. He extends his canvas and lingers to produce a picture which shall at once fill the mind and captivate the imagination. As in his other writings, so here, he makes skillful use of the principle of contrast, in a complex case, e.g., setting forth first the reasons of one side, then those of the other, and finally summing up as the impartial spectator. Beyond all, the history is characterized by the presence of a subtle yet unobtrusive vein of reflection, which makes it in many parts a model of what reflective history ought to be. Hume's temper, commonly, is so even, his judgment so common,

in all matters where his own prejudices are not involved. Unfortunately, a serious qualification. That it would be a misfortune if, with all its faults, his history should ever be allowed to be forgotten. It was the first really great history of which our language could boast, and there are critics who doubt whether in certain respects it is not the best still. The faults of the work, however, are equally manifest. They are such faults as we are.

inevitable in any history, proceeding from the mind of Hume. One must try, of course, to be scrupulously just to the author even here. If Hume took the side of arbitrary power to an extent which jars upon our sense of justice and impartiality, it may be allowed that he did so, not because he sympathized with tyranny as such, but because, in the circumstances, that seemed to him the side of order. His natural dislike of all turbulence and fanaticism offered it strongly to prejudice him against the popular party in the nation,

as well as against the principles with which that party was identified. A popular cause can never be altogether separated from inflamed passions, unreasonable excesses, extravagant demands, and misguided zeal. These abuses are calm and enlightened historian ought to have been able to distinguish from the true merits of the case. But Hume looked mainly to the faults. His high appreciation of the interest of learning in literature through a powerful weight into the scale of the party

possessed of the greatest education, politeness, and refinement. Still, after ever a line so the color which must be given to every historian's narrative, by the peculiar lights of his own mind, it is impossible to acquit Hume of making non-fair and careless use of his materials. Hallam, the model of a temperate and impartial historian, is compelled at times to speak in the strongest terms of his unreliability. McCauley is himself, far from blameless in the matter of bias, but his estimate of Hume can scarcely be accused of exaggeration. Hume, he says, is an accomplished advocate.

Without positively asserting much more than he can prove, he gives prominence to all the circumstances which support his cause. He glides lightly over those which are unfavorable to it. His own witnesses are applauded and encouraged. The statements which seem to throw discredit on them are contradicted. The contradictions into which they fall are explained away. A clear and connected abstract of their evidence is given. Everything that is offered on the other side is scrutinized with the utmost severity.

Every suspicious circumstances is a ground for comment and invective, which cannot be denied or extenuated, is passed by without notice. Concessions even are sometimes made, but the insidious candor only increases the effect of the vast mass of sophistry. The history was conceived and written, as Hume himself indicates, with a very definite purpose, viz, to correct what he supposed to be the misrepresentations of factions in connection with the reigns of the stewards. Mr. Maurice has, we think,

not unjustly connected this design of fumes with the spirit of the so-called philosophical history at that time in vogue in France under the auspices of Voltaire. History was to be made a popular and interesting medium, but diffusing the principles of that easy and obvious philosophy, of which the essence was the absence of every high in ideal aim. The past was to be made to speak as far as possible,

the thoughts, the feelings, the temper of the present, everything that might interfere with that temper, the belief in God, in providence, in eternal destiny, was to be skillfully extracted, and in this way the reader was to be trained to, regard every attempt to rise above the sphere with which he was abitually conversant as extravagant and ridiculous. Hume need not indeed be supposed to have formed any deliberate design of introducing these French modes of thought and literature into Scotland. It is asserted only that his history is strongly imbued with the same spirit and tendency.

His mind was naturally disposed in this direction. The contagion was in the air, and he naturally caught the prevailing distemper. The history we saw was commenced in 1752, after Hume had been appointed librarian to the Faculty of Advocates in Edinburgh. The influences already noticed had not as little to do with his choice of the accession of the House of Stuart as the starting point of his undertaking. Then commenced in Britain, not merely the grand struggle between court and country, but also what Maurice calls the great theocratic conflict for religious principle and liberty of conscience. The fullest omission may be made of the grave faults, the uncultured narrowness, the manifestations of bigotry, which may frequently be charged against both English puritans and scotch covenanter's, though it is easily possible. here to exaggerate. But what is inexcusable is that one should be indifferent to the higher meaning of these struggles, out of which have sprung nearly all our modern civil and religious

rights and privileges. Hume himself in a passage which is retained to the last edition, remarks on the Puritans, most inconsistently indeed, with other parts of his work. The precious spark of liberty had been kindled and was preserved by the Puritans alone. It was to this sect, whose principles appear so frivolous and their habits so ridiculous that the English owe the whole freedom of their constitution. If this was so, what is to be said of the historian who, in the same and in earlier volumes, condemns all or nearly all, their important acts in the struggle for freedom, and as warmly espouses the cause of their opponents. But this is what human,

did. Throughout, he was a zealous defender of the royal prerogative against the party identified with religion and constitutional liberty. Whatever evils may be supposed to attend an absolute monarchy, and he does not pretend to ignore them. They are not in his judgment, comparable to the far worse evils, which spring from anarchy and faction. And the chief source of Anagian faction in Hume's view was religion, or, as he prefers to name it, enthusiasm. The spirit of English freedom he believed to be inseparably associated in its progress, with religious fanaticism and bigotry, and this was sufficient to condemn it in his eyes. His philosophical preference for freedom did not avail to overcome his repugnance

to the persons and parties identified with its cause. while it permitted him to look with great placidity on the usurpations, tyrannies, and persecutions of the rulers who sought to crush it and to find palliations and excuses for their worst acts. The general course of the publication of the history and the character of the reception it met with from the public have been described in a previous chapter. The first volume, published in 1754, narrates, as was seen,

the struggle for civil and religious liberty, from the accession of James up to the execution of Charles I. Here, most of all, the critics found reason to complain of hume's strong spirit of partisanship, his unjustifiable bias, and his general untrustworthiness as an authority. In this volume, his Tory leanings are extreme. He admits in numerous passages that liberty was being justly contended for, and maintains a certain appearance of partiality by blaming particular acts of James or Charles or their instruments. But with little qualification he takes the side of the monarch,

even his most arbitrary exercises of power. He might be acting wrongly, but it is Hume's habitual contention that he had ancient or more recent precedents to justify him. Whatever incidental concessions may be made, therefore, The scale, in nearly every instance of unconstitutional action, is caused to turn heavily against the opponents. It was not necessary that Hume should pretend, nor did he, that the Court of High Commission or the Star Chamber were salutatory institutions, or that Hampton was not justified in his resistance to ship money, or that Law's character of policy were commendable,

or that Charles acted wisely in his dealings with the Scots. But it was open to him to produce the same impression by subtler methods, when, for instance, the above-named Engines of Tyranny, the Court of High Commission, and the Star Chamber, are represented as old and accredited instruments of justice, and their victims are turned into ridicule, as fanatics who got little more than they deserved. When the King's arbitrary impositions are bolstered,

up by precedents, and it is declared that the grievances under which the English labored, considered in themselves, scarcely deserved the name. When Hampton, notwithstanding his acknowledged virtues, is denied, the praises of a good citizen. When Strafford is vindicated in his policy of thorough, and Laud is apologized for, his offense is minimized, and his memory hallowed. when the Covenant is a scoffed at for their fury against the mild, this humane Charles, with his inoffensive liturgy, and their grievances are roundly declared to be imaginary. It is not easy to distinguish the result upon the mind from that of direct approval of the obnoxious measures. The Puritans are, of course, Hume's pet aversion, and the smallest possible allotments of respect is meted out to them.

They are seldom alluded to, without some term of opprobrium, being applied to them. Their scruvials above ceremonies are jeered at. If they are called to suffer for their opinions, it is well if a spice of mockery is not thrown into the description, always unsympathetic of their sufferings. They are gloomy, unreasonable, fanatical, hypocritical zealots, and, while in the character finally given of him, Charles' man and ruler is pictured as a model of all the virtues. Cromwell, as we saw, is branded on his first appearance as this fanatical hypocrite.

It is scarcely to be wondered at that, as Hume tells us, this first volume was assailed on its appearance by a universal cry of disapprobation. The second volume, issued in 1756, covered the period from the death of Charles I, till the revolution. It was, as before shown, better received. There's probably less room for the intrusion of the historian's offensive sentiments in this period. But it will be difficult entirely to exculpate humor from deliberately toning down his work and beating his breath, to secure for his book a more favorable reception. In this volume two, a long note was inserted for the express purpose of explaining away the more violent.

violent and offensive statements in volume one. This was subsequently cancelled, and numerous alterations were made in later editions, all on the Tory side. Then, in 1759, appeared the third and fourth volumes, comprising the history of the House of Tudor. Portions of these volumes, especially in the reign of Elizabeth, contained some remarkably strong historical writing, but it is universally conceded that his desire to justify the act. actions of Charles I, led him, in this earlier period, to represent the royal prerogative

under the tutors as much greater and more absolute than the facts will warrant. He had committed himself to an indefensible thesis and was obviously shackled throughout. After this, the work became a matter of treachery and profit than of inclination. What interest had the philosophical historian in skirmishes of kites or crows, or in the doings and institutions of a people only emerging out of barbarism. Apart from the pleasingness of the style, therefore, Hume's account of the Anglo-Saxon in succeeding early periods presents little that is of permanent value to the student. It is hardly necessary to speak of the influence which, as a historian, Hume has exerted on our literature.

For long, his history was the standard book on the periods of which it treats. It entered largely into school instruction, and in this in more direct ways helped to form opinions and establish prejudices, which in some instances have lasted to our own generation. Exprigated editions of it were produced for the use of Christians. Hosts of replies were published on the appearance of the Sephirons, several volumes, controverting what were thought to be their main misrepresentations. Most of his important errors have been pointed out by critics and historians since Hume's day,

by none more fairly than by Mr. Hallam. But the history of Hume still stands alongside of those of his contemporaries. Robertson and Gibbon as a great work of genius, and probably no historian of England will ever think himself properly equipped for his work, till he has made himself familiar with its page and mastered the secret of its charm. Our sketch may he are close. No formal summing up of the character and abilities of Hume

is necessary after what has been said in the course of the foregoing narrative, exposition, and comment. Enough if it has been established that, for good a harm. Hume's memory and influence are likely to abide with us, as long as our literature lasts. End of Chapter 11. End of David Hume and his influence on philosophy and theology by James Orr.