Page images
PDF
EPUB

But what reveals to us the beauty and obligation of benevolence?— A special sense. Why do we approve an action performed in the interest of the common welfare? Because we are so constituted:

"The final sentence, it is probable, which pronounces characters and actions amiable or odious, praiseworthy or blameable...depends on some internal sense or feeling which nature has made universal in the whole species.'-'As virtue is an end, and is desirable on its own account without fee or reward, merely for the immediate satisfaction it conveys, it is requisite that there should be some sentiment which it touches, some internal feeling, or whatever you please to call it, which distinguishes moral good and evil, and which embraces one and rejects the other.'

Moral decisions, consequently, are complex, involving a judgment of the reason and an emotion of the heart-an intuition :

'Reason instructs us in the several tendencies of actions, and humanity makes a distinction in favor of those which are useful and beneficial.'

It may be questioned whether his admission of a moral sense can be reconciled with his metaphysical theory of impressions and ideas, though with much ingenuity he endeavors to rank it among the impressions. So referred, morality becomes a floating fancy. Virtue and vice, like color and taste, bitter and sweet, lie merely in our sensations.

Natural History of Religion (1755), which drew upon him the enmity of many. Its object is to ascertain the origin and process of religious ideas. The conclusion is, that the worship of many Gods must, everywhere, have preceded the worship of one God. Man, in his earliest state, is a savage. As such, he feels no interest in ordinary events of nature, no desire to study the principles which govern them; and therefore his attention is confined to those which are extraordinary, startling, terrible, or deadly,-famine and pestilence, the blast of the gathered lightning, the blaze of the comet, the solemn gloom of the eclipse, the wild echoes of the mountain gorge. Powerless to control the causes, he reckons them superior to himself. Cowering before what he can not measure or comprehend, he turns them into deities, and propitiates them with gifts. Terror, issuing in polytheism, is thus the beginning of religion:

"The primary religion of mankind arises chiefly from an anxious fear of future events. By degrees, the active imagination of men, uneasy in this abstract conception of objects, about which it is incessantly employed, begins to render them more particular, and to clothe them in shapes more suitable to its natural comprehension. It represents them to be sensible, intelligent beings, like mankind; actuated by love and hatred, and flexible by gifts and entreaties, by prayers and sacrifices. Hence the origin of religion. And hence the origin of idolatry, or polytheism.' 'It seems certain, that, according to the natural progress of human thought, the ignorant multitude must first entertain some grovelling and familiar notion of superior powers, before they stretch their conception to that perfect Being who bestowed order on the whole frame of nature. We may as reasonably imagine, that men inhabited palaces before huts and cottages, or studied geometry before agriculture, as assert that the Deity appeared to

them a pure spirit, omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent, before he was apprehended to be a powerful though limited being, with human passions and appetites, limbs and organs. The mind rises gradually from inferior to superior, By abstracting from what is imperfect, it forms an idea of perfection; and slowly distinguishing the nobler parts of its own frame from the grosser, it learns to transform only the former, much elevated and refined, to its divinity.'

It may be observed, in passing, that Hume has only wrought into more plausible form a theory propounded by Lucretius nineteen hundred years ago:

Whate'er in heaven,

In earth, man sees mysterious, shakes his mind,
With sacred awe o'erwhelms him, and his soul
Bows to the dust; tne cause of things concealed

Once from his vision, instant to the gods

All empire he transfers, all rule supreme,

And doubtful whence they spring, with headlong haste
Calls them the workmanship of power divine,

History of England (1754-'62), an exquisite production of art, that will never cease to be admired as long as taste remains. It procured for its author what the genius and originality of his philosophical works could never have done, a popular reputation. The general reader found in it elegant and animated narrative; the statesman and thinker, profound and original views. The doctrine of necessity, applied to historical observation, now bore its practical fruits,—a propensity to disbelieve narratives of great and remarkable deeds; a disposition to find all men pretty much upon a level, none in a marked manner better or worse than their neighbors; an inclination to regard human society as a corporate part of the mechanism of the universe, whose movement is regulated by eternal and irresistible law.

Rank.-An accomplished reasoner, an original, profound, and fearless thinker, more remarkable for depth than for erudition. As a philosopher, the greatest in the school of materialism; as a historian, the first to treat the sequence of historical events in a philosophical manner; as a man, one of the leaders of the race.

Locke had shown that all knowledge is the product of experience. Berkeley, admitting the truth of the statement, had shown that since we can know nothing but our own ideas, matter, as unknown and unknowable, must be pronounced a figment. Hume, taking up the line where Berkeley had cast it, flung it once more into the deep sea, and found that mind was a figment also. If the 'substratum' in which material phenomena are supposed to inhere could be denied, because not founded on experience, so, for the same reason, the substratum (mind) which supports the 'impressions' must be denied. Substance is an aggregate of impressions and ideas. Belief is nothing but a strong and lively idea derived from a present impression related to it. Nothing is a subject

of belief, that is not at the moment vividly impressed, and everything that chances to be so impressed is worthy of acceptance.

Hume, then, concluding from admitted premises, reduced philosophy to the singular dilemma of either refuting the sceptical arguments or of declaring itself to be vain and baseless. He tried the strength of human reason, and exposed its feebleness:

"The observation of human blindness and weakness is the result of all philosophy, and meets us at every turn, in spite of our endeavors to elude or avoid it.'

Do not essay the incomhrehensible. You know all that directly concerns you, with a certainty sufficient for all your wants; but if you push your speculations, farther, and attempt to fathom the mysteries of being, you end in that soundless and shoreless gulf which yawns as the terminal road of all consistent metaphysics,—Scepticism, belief in nothing, doubt in all. With how wise a sadness does Plato say of such ambitions: 'In these things, we must reach one of two results: either learn and discover how the fact really stands; or else, should this be impossible, at least take up with the best and most incontrovertible belief respecting it; and then, born upon this as in a skiff, venture the voyage of life, unless we can find a securer and less hazardous passage on the firm support of some Divine Word.'

What, it may still be asked, was Hume's real belief? He explicitly declares that we do believe, and can not help believing, though in the last analysis we can give no reason for our belief:

"The sceptic still continues to reason and believe, even though he asserts that he can not defend his reason by reason.'

But what points of support had this traveler with his fatal unrest? Did he carry his theoretical scepticism into his inner life? It must be confessed that while seeking an answer to this question, we have more than once been reminded of the famous saying attributed to Humboldt: What is your religion?—The religion of all sensible men.-And what is the religion of all sensible men?-Sensible men never tell. Hume has been talked at, shrieked at, and vanguished 'with a grin.' Let us hear him as now and then he gives us admission into the audiencechamber of his thoughts:

'I have long entertained a suspicion with regard to the dicisions of philosophers upon all subjects, and found in myself a greater inclination to dispute than assent to their conclusions.'

See the solitary student, who has to combat the feelings and sympathies of his fellow creatures, can not wholly ignore his moods, wavers, but immures himself, and faces the great Darkness:

'Before I launch out into those immense depths of philosophy which lie before me, I find myself inclined to stop a moment in my present station, and to ponder that voyage which I have undertaken, and which undoubtedly requires the utmost art and in

1

...

dustry to be brought to a happy conclusion. Methinks I am like a man, who, having struck on many shoals, and having narrowly escaped shipwreck in passing a small frith, has yet the temerity to put out to sea in the same leaky weather-beaten vessel, aud even carries his ambition so far as to think of compassing the globe under these disatvantageous circumstances. My memory of past errors and perplexities makes me diffident for the future. The wretched condition, weakness, and disorder of the faculties I must employ in my inquiries, increase my apprehensions The intense view of these manifold contradictions and imperfections in human reason has so wrought upon me, and heated my brain, that I am ready to reject all belief and reasoning, and can look upon no opinion even as more probable or likely than another. Where am I, or what? From what causes do I derive my existence, and to what condition shall I return? Whose favour shall I court, and whose anger must I dread? What beings surround me? and on whom have I any influence, or who have any influence on me? I am confounded with all these questions, and begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable, environed with the deepest darkness, and utterly deprived of the use of every member and faculty... I dine, I play a game of backgammon, I converse, and am merry with my friends; and when, after three or four hours amusement, I would return to these speculations, they appear so cold, and strained, and ridiculous, that I cannot find in my heart to enter into them any farther These are the sentiments of my spleen and indolence'; and when 'I am tired with amusement and company, and have indulged reverie in my chamber, or in a solitary walk by a riverside, I feel my mind all collected within itself, and am naturally inclined to carry my view into all those subjects, about which I have met with so many disputes in the course of my reading and conversation. I can not forbear having a curiosity to be acquainted with the principles of moral good and evil, the nature and foundation of goverment, and the cause of those several passions and inclinations which actuate and govern me. I am uneasy to think I approve of one object, and disapprove of another; call one thing beautiful, and another deformed; decide concerning truth and falsehood, reason and folly, without knowing upon what principles I proceed. I am concerned for the condition of the learned world, which lies under such a deplorable ignorance in all these particulars. I feel an ambition to arise in me of contributing to the instruction of mankind, and of acquiring a name by my inventions and discoveries. These sentiments spring up naturally in my present disposition; and should I endeavor to banish them, by attaching myself to any other business or diversion, I feel I should be a loser in point of pleasure; and this is the origin of my philosophy.'

...

Was he a sceptic, and a sceptic only,-an uncertain, troubled voyager on a limitless sea of doubt?—

'Should it be here asked me whether I sincerely assent to this argument which I seem to take such pains to inculcate, and whether I be really one of those skeptics who is not in any thing posessed of any measures of truth and falsehood, I should reply that this question is entirely superfluous, and that neither I nor any other person was ever sincerely and constantly of that opinion. Nature, by an absolute and uncontrollable necesity, has determined us to judge as well as to breathe and feel; nor can we any more forbear viewing certain objects in a stronger and fuller light upon account of their customary connection with a present impression, than we can hinder ourselves from thinking as long as we are awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies when we turn our eyes towards them in broad sunshine. Whoever has taken the pains to refute the cavils of this total skepticism, has really disputed without an antagonist, and endeavored by arguments to establish a faculty which Nature has antecedently implanted in the mind and rendered unavoidable. But as experience will sufficiently convince any one, that although he finds no error in my arguments, yet he still continues to believe and think and reason as usual, he may safely conclude that his reasoning and belief is some sensation or peculiar manner of conception, which 'tis impossible for mere ideas and reflections to destroy.'

Was he an atheist? Is there a God? Is there, behind the veil, some power analogous to human intelligence ?-

'Though the stupidity of men, barbarous and uninstructed, be so great, that they may not see a Sovereign Author in the more obvious works of nature to which they are familiarized; yet it scarcely seems possible that any one of good understanding should reject that idea when once it is suggested to him. A purpose, an intimation, à design, is evident in everything, and when our comprehension is so far enlarged as to contemplate the first rise of this visible system, we must adopt with the strongest conviction the idea of some intelligent cause or author.'

Yes, we must believe, though our belief cannot be imprisoned in formulæ or condensed into demonstrations. At the end of all discussions we come to the inscrutable:

'The whole is a riddle, an enigma, an inexplicable mystery. Doubt, uncertainty, suspense of judgment, appear the only result of our most accurate scrutiny concerning this subject.'

We must have a standard of achievement, too; one great object to be kept forever in view. Domitian may chase flies, Rufus may hunt wild beasts, Alexander may conquer kingdoms, but the student is inspired by another ideal, not a dream of conquest nor the palling pleasures of sense, but a reality of character; stoical, severe, reaching above the storm-line into the heaven of calm dominion:

'In vain do you seek repose from beds of roses. In vain do you hope for enjoyment from the most delicious wines and fruits. Your indolence itself becomes a fatigue. Your pleasure itself creates disgust. The mind, unexercised, finds every delight insipid and loathsome; and ere yet the body, full of noxious humours, feels the torment of its multiplied diseases, your nobler part is sensible of the invading poison, and seeks in vain to relieve its anxiety by new pleasures, which still augment the fatal malady.'—' 'As much as the wildest savage is inferior to the polished citizen, who, under the protection of laws, enjoys every convenience which industry has invented; so much is this citizen himself inferior to the man of virtue, and the true philosopher, who governs his appetites, subordinates his passions, and has learned from reason to set a just value on every pursuit and enjoyment.'

One capital defect narrowed Hume's field of vision,-a cold, unimaginative temperament. It appears in his sentiments; in the mechanism of his language, polished as marble, cold as marble too; in Philosophy, where he works with human nature as an anatomist, who feels that his minute examinations might be injured by any burst of feeling or eloquence; in History, where, naturally opposed to turbulence and enthusiasm, he as naturally leans toward despotism, intolerant of liberty among actors, though he wished it to be fearless and unrestrained among thinkers. No hatred of oppression burns in his pages, no yearning love of man glows there, no stirring sympathy with the restless human soul, no just appreciation of the religious instinct in directing the course of public events. A second defect was his disregard of facts, proceeding

« PreviousContinue »