DAVID HUME. 1711-1776.

DAVID HUME, the celebrated Scotch historian, was born in Edinburgh in 1711. He was designed for the law, but having no inclination for it, he ap plied himself to mercantile pursuits, and in 1734 became clerk to a house in Bristol. He did not, however, continue long in that line, owing to his strong propensity to literature. He says in his autobiography, "I went over to France 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 independency; and to regard every object as con temptible except the improvement of my talents in literature."

In 1738 he published his "Treatise of Human Nature," a metaphysical work, which met with a very indifferent reception In 1742 appeared his "Moral Essays," which were a little better received. During the next ten years he published his "Inquiry concerning Human Understanding," "Political Discourses," and "Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morals." While many of the principles of these works are exceptionable, they are, as composi tions, a model of a perspicuous and a highly finished style. In 1754 he pub lished the first volume of his "History of England," which he commenced with the House of Stuart "The History of the House of Tudor" followed in 1759, and the two volumes containing the earlier English History, which com pleted the work, in 1761. While this work was in progress, he gave to the world his "Natural History of Religion," which was attacked with just se verity by Warburton and Hurd. After enjoying one or two offices of honor and profit, he retired to his native country in 1769, and died in 1776.

As an author, Hume is to be viewed in the three characters of Historian, Political Economist, and Philosopher. "In History he was the first to divert attention from wars, treaties, and successions, to the living progress of the people, in all that increases their civilization and their happiness;" and notwithstanding his " History of England" is disfigured by evident partiality, and lacks in many places that accuracy which is the first requisite in historical compositions, yet, with all the faults of its matter, its purely literary merits are so great, that, as a classical and popular work, it has hitherto encountered no rival.

As a Political Economist, "his triumphs are those which, in the present day stand forth with the greatest prominence and lustre. In no long time, a hundred years will have elapsed from the day when Hume told the world, what the legislature of England is now declaring, that national exclusiveness in trade was as foolish as it was wicked; that no nation could profit by stopping the natural flood of commerce between itself and the rest of the world; that commercial restrictions deprive the nations of the earth of that free commu nication and exchange, which the Author of the world has intended by giving them soils, climates, and geniuses, so different from each other;' and hat, like the healthy circulation of the blood in living bodies, FREE TRADE is the vital principle by which the nations of the earth are to become united in one harmonious whole."

As a Philosopher, thoug acute and ingenious, he is not profound. He w the first to make Utility the foundation of moral obligation, which, as a thec y

1 Read-the "Life and Correspondence of David Hume," by John Hill Burton, Esq., 2 vols. 8vp Edinburgh, 1846—a very valuable contribution to the biographieni literature of the present century.

is absurd, and can never be a guide to general duty; for none but Omniscience can know what will conduce to general utility; and, therefore, though in many cases it may be a motive, it can never be the ultimate motive for human action. The Will of God is, and ever must be, the only true foundation of all moral obligation, for the Creator alone can know what is best for his creatures. It is, therefore, from his most defective theory in morals, bur more especially from his infidelity, that, in my estimation, Hume hardly deserves the name of a Philosopher, inasmuch as he neglected all search after the highest wisdom-the "wisdom from above;" and exhibited none of that docility upon the subject of religion, which he himself would be the first to require of any one who wished to make attainments in any other science: and most deeply is it to be lamented, that a man of such a mind should not have had, upon his death-bed, the consolations of the Christian religion.1

ON DELICACY OF TASTE.

Nothing is so improving to the temper as the study of the beauties either of poetry, eloquence, music, or painting. They give a certain elegance of sentiment to which the rest of mankind are strangers. The emotions which they excite are soft and tender. They draw off the mind from the hurry of business and interest; cherish reflection; dispose to tranquillity; and produce an agreeable melancholy, which, of all dispositions of the mind, is the best suited to love and friendship.

men.

In the second place, a delicacy of taste is favorable to love and friendship, by confining our choice to few people, and making us indifferent to the company and conversation of the greater part of You will seldom find that mere men of the world, whatever strong sense they may be endowed with, are very nice in distinguishing characters, or in marking those insensible differences and gradations which make one man preferable to another. Any one that has competent sense is sufficient for their entertainment: they talk to him of their pleasure and affairs with the same frankness that they would to another; and finding many who are fit to supply his place, they never feel any vacancy or want in his absence. But, to make use of the allusion of a celebrated French author, the judgment may be compared to a clock or watch where the most ordinary machine is sufficient to tell the hours, but the most elaborate alone can point out the minutes and seconds, and distinguish the smallest differences of time. One that has well digested his knowledge, both of books and men, has little enjoyment but in the company of a few select companions.

"I mentioned to Dr. Johnson that David Hume's persisting in his infidelity when he was dying shocked me much." JOHNSON. "Why should it shock you, sir? Hume owned he had never read the New Testament with attention. Here, then, was a man who had been at no pains to inquire mto the truth of religion, and had continually turned his mind the other way. It was not to be expected the prospect of death would alter his way of thinking, unless God should send an angel to set atm right. He had a vanity in being thought easy." Croker's Boswell, svo, p. 545. See also, remarks upon Hume's deisn. at pp 98, 151, and 174 of the same book.

He feels too sensibly how much all the rest of mankind fall short of the notions which he has entertained; and his affections being thus confined within a narrow circle, no wonder he carries them further than if they were more general and undistinguished. The gayety and frolic of a bottle companion improves with him into a solid friendship; and the ardors of a youthful appetite become an elegant passion.

ON SIMPLICITY AND REFINEMENT.

It is a certain rule that wit and passion are entirely incompatible. When the affections are moved, there is no place for the imagination. The mind of man being naturally limited, it is impossible that all its faculties can operate at once; and the more any one predominates, the less room is there for the others to exert their vigor. For this reason a greater degree of simplicity is required in all compositions where men, and actions, and passions are painted, than in such as consist of reflections and observations. And, as the former species of writing is the more engaging and beautiful, one may safely, upon this account, give the preference to the extreme of simplicity above that of refinement.

We may also observe, that those compositions which we read the oftenest, and which every man of taste has got by heart, have the recommendation of simplicity, and have nothing surprising in the thought when divested of that elegance of expression and harmony of numbers with which it is clothed. If the merit of the composition lie in a point of wit, it may strike at first; but the mind anticipates the thought in the second perusal, and is no longer affected by it. When I read an epigram of Martial, the first line recalls the whole; and I have no pleasure in repeating to myself what I know already. But each line, each word in Catullus, has its merit; and I am never tired with the perusal of him. It is sufficient to run over Cowley once; but Parnell, after the fiftieth reading, is as fresh as the first. Besides, it is with books as with women, where a certain plainness of manner and of dress is more engaging than that glare of paint, and airs, and apparel, which may dazzle the eye, but reaches not the affections. Terence is a modest and bashful beauty, to whom we grant every thing, because he assumes nothing; and whose purity and nature ake a durable though not a violent impression on us.

ON THE MIDDLE STATION OF LIFE.

The moral of the following fable will easily discover itself with out my explaining it. One rivulet meeting another, with whom he had been long united in strictest amity, with noisy haughtiness and disdain thus bespoke him:-" What, brother! still in the

game state! Still low and creeping! Are you not ashamed when you behold me, who, though lately in a like condition with you, am now become a great river, and shall shortly be able to rival the Danube or the Rhine, provided those friendly rains continue which have favored my banks, but neglected yours?" "Very true," replies the humble rivulet, "you are now, indeed, swollen to a great size; but methinks you are become withal somewhat turbulent and muddy. I am contented with my low condi tion and my purity."

Instead of commenting upon this fable, I shall take occasion from it to compare the different stations of life, and to persuade such of my readers as are placed in the middle station to be satisfied with it, as the most eligible of all others. These form the most numerous rank of men that can be supposed susceptible of philosophy, and therefore all discourses of morality ought principally to be addressed to them. The great are too much immersed in pleasure, and the poor too much occupied in providing for the necessities of life, to hearken to the calm voice of reason. The middle station, as it is most happy in many respects, so particularly in this, that a man placed in it can, with the greatest leisure, consider his own happiness, and reap a new enjoyment, from comparing his situation with that of persons above or below him.

Agur's prayer is sufficiently noted-"Two things have I required of thee; deny me them not before I die: Remove far from me vanity and lies; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me, lest I be full and deny thee, and say, who is the Lord? or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain." The middle station is here justly recommended, as affording the fullest security for virtue; and I may also add, that it gives opportunity for the most ample exercise of it, and furnishes employment for every good quality which we can possibly be possessed of. Those who are placed among the lower ranks of men have little opportunity of exerting any other virtue besides those of patience, resignation, industry, and integrity. Those who are advanced into the higher stations, have full employment for their generosity, humanity, affability, and charity. When a man lies betwixt these two extremes, he can exert the former virtues towards his superiors, and the latter towards his inferiors. Every moral quality which the human soul is susceptible of, may have its turn, and be called up to action; and a man may, after this manner, be much more certain of his progress in virtue, than where his good qualities lie dormant and without employment.

But there is another virtue that seems principally to lie among equals; and is, for that reason, chiefly calculated for the middle station of life. This virtue is friendship. I believe most men of

generous tempers are apt to envy the great, when they consider the large opportunities such persons have of doing good to their feilow-creatures, and of acquiring the friendship and esteem of men of merit. They make no advances in vain, and are not obliged to associate with those whom they have little kindness for, like people of inferior stations, who are subject to have their proffers of friendship rejected even where they would be most. fond of placing their affections. But though the great have more facility in acquiring friendships, they cannot be so certain of the sincerity of them as men of a lower rank, since the favors they bestow may acquire them flattery, instead of good-will and kindness. It has been very judiciously remarked, that we attach ourselves more by the services we perform than by those we receive, and that a man is in danger of losing his friends by obliging them too far. I should therefore choose to lie in the middle way, and to have my commerce with my friend varied both by obligations given and received. I have too much pride to be willing that all the obligations should lie on my side, and should be afraid that, if they all lay on his, he would also have too much pride to be entirely easy under them, or have a perfect complacency in my company.

WILLIAM PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM.

1708-1778.

Or the event al life of this illustrious statesman, it would be impossible here to give any adequate view. From the time that he delivered his maiden speech in parliament, on the 29th of April, 1736, to the day when he fell senseless in the House of Lords, April 7, 1778, while, in his own fervid eloquence, he was addressing that body on the state of the nation, his whole life is inseparably connected with every great event in his country's history. No single individual for forty years filled so large a space in the public eye.

It is deeply to be regretted that we have so few of his writings, and that no correct reports of his speeches in parliament have come down to us. The art of reporting with rapidity and accuracy, so familiar to us, of this day, was then not known. But from the encomiums which his speeches received from his contemporaries, without distinction of party, they must have been of the highest order of eloquence. Americans may well remember him with grati tude, for they had no abler defender of their rights in revolutionary times, or either side of the Atlantic. With that "abominable sentiment," OUR COUNTRY RIGHT OR WRONG, this great man had no sympathy; for he never hesitated to rebuke, in the severest terms, his own country, when he saw she was in the way of wrong-doing.

The most interesting relic that we have of this greatest of statesmen, is his Letters to his Nephew, Thomas Pitt, (afterwards Lord Camelford,) then at Cambridge." No volume of equal size contains more valuable instructions for a young student than these letters. They exhibit "a great orator, states, man, and patriot, in one of the most interesting relations of private society Not, as in the cabinet or the senate, enforcing by a vigorous and commanding