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Among the papers submitted to the inspection of [328]Mr. Elliot, were the "Dialogues concerning Natural Religion," which were not published until after their author's death, but which the following letter shows to have been written before the year 1751. The manuscript of this work[328:1] is full of emendations and corrections; and while the sentiments appear to be substantially the same as when they were first set down, the alterations in the method of announcing them are a register of the improvements in their author's style, for a period apparently of twenty-seven years. Here at least he could not plead the excuse of youth and indiscretion. The work, penned in the full vigour of his faculties, comes to us with the sanction of his mature years, and his approval when he was within sight of the grave. Whatever sentiments, therefore, in this work, may be justly found to excite censure, carry with them a reproach from which their author's name cannot escape.
The Dialogues are written with a solemn simplicity of tone worthy of the character of the subject. The structure is in a great measure that of Cicero, though there appears not, as there generally does in the conversations professed to be recorded by the Roman moralist, any one mind completely predominating over the others. Of the interlocutors, Philo presents himself, at first as a materialist of the Spinoza school, who finds that the material world has within itself the principles of its own motion and development—the operating causes that produce its phenomena; while he denies that these phenomena exhibit an all perfect structure. He is not, however, a man of settled opinions, but rather a sceptical demolisher of other people's views; and we find him saying, "I must confess that [329]I am less cautious on the subject of natural religion than on any other; both because I know that I can never, on that head, corrupt the principles of any man of common sense; and because no one, I am confident, in whose eyes I appear a man of common sense, will ever mistake my intentions. You in particular, Cleanthes, with whom I live in unreserved intimacy, you are sensible, that notwithstanding the freedom of my conversation, and my love of singular arguments, no one has a deeper sense of religion impressed on his mind, or pays more profound adoration to the Divine Being, as he discovers himself to reason, in the inexplicable contrivance and artifice of nature."
Cleanthes, another speaker, has created a natural religion of his own—a system of Theism, in which, by induction from the beautiful order and mechanism of the world, he has reasoned himself into the belief of an all-wise and all-powerful Supreme Being. He holds, that "the most agreeable reflection which it is possible for human imagination to suggest, is that of genuine Theism, which represents us as the workmanship of a being perfectly good, wise, and powerful, who created us for happiness; and who, having implanted in us immeasurable desires of good, will prolong our existence to all eternity, and will transfer us into an infinite variety of scenes, in order to satisfy those desires, and render our felicity complete and durable." And, strangely enough, it is with this one that the author shows most sympathy, very nearly professing that the doctrine announced by Cleanthes is his own; while it will be found in his correspondence, that he admits his having designedly endeavoured to make the argument of that speaker the most attractive. This is another illustration of the inapplicability of perfectly abstract metaphysical disquisitions to [330]religious faith; for, if there is any system of religion that is incompatible with Hume's metaphysical opinions on ideas and impressions, it is a system that is, like this of Cleanthes, the workmanship of human reason. The third speaker, Demea, is a devoutly religious man, who, not venturing to create a system of belief for himself, sees in the order of the world such a merciful and wise dispensation of Divine Providence, as induces him to receive the whole revealed scheme of religion without questioning those parts of it which are beyond his comprehension, any more than he questions those of which the wisdom and goodness are immediately apparent.
The general scope and purport of the Dialogues are not unlike those of Voltaire's Jenni. In both, the argument on natural theology, illustrating the existence of a ruling mind from the general order and harmony of created things, is adduced, and is measured with its counterpart, the argument from the imperfection of earthly things, and the calamities and unhappiness of the beings standing at the head of the whole social order, mankind. But in the mere similarity of the argument the resemblance stops; no two performances can be more unlike each other in tone and spirit than the English sceptic's honest search after truth, and the French infidel's ribald sport with all that men love and revere. The contrast may be found not only in these individual men, but in the two classes of thinkers at the head of which they respectively stood. Hume represented the cautious conscientious inquiry, which has established many truths and gradually ameliorated social evils; the Frenchman directed that scornful, careless, and cruel sport with whatever is dear and important to humanity, which one day bowed to absolute [331]despotism, and the next destroyed the whole fabric of social order.[331:1]
Hume to Gilbert Elliot of Minto.
"Ninewells, near Berwick,
March 10, 1751.
"Dear Sir,—You would perceive by the sample I have given you, that I make Cleanthes the hero of the dialogue: whatever you can think of, to strengthen that side of the argument, will be most acceptable to [332]me. Any propensity you imagine I have to the other side, crept in upon me against my will; and 'tis not long ago that I burned an old manuscript book, wrote before I was twenty, which contained, page after page, the gradual progress of my thoughts on that head. It began with an anxious search after arguments, to confirm the common opinion; doubts stole in, dissipated, returned; were again dissipated, returned again; and it was a perpetual struggle of a restless imagination against inclination, perhaps against reason.
"I have often thought, that the best way of composing a dialogue, would be for two persons that are of different opinions about any question of importance, to write alternately the different parts of the discourse, and reply to each other: by this means, that vulgar error would be avoided, of putting nothing but nonsense into the mouth of the adversary; and at the same time, a variety of character and genius being upheld, would make the whole look more natural and unaffected. Had it been my good fortune to live near you, I should have taken on me the character of Philo, in the dialogue, which you'll own I could have supported naturally enough; and you would not have been averse to that of Cleanthes. I believe, too, we could both of us have kept our tempers very well; only, you have not reached an absolute philosophical indifference on these points. What danger can ever come from ingenious reasoning and inquiry? The worst speculative sceptic ever I knew, was a much better man than the best superstitious devotee and bigot. I must inform you, too, that this was the way of thinking of the ancients on this subject. If a man made a profession of philosophy, whatever his sect was, they always expected to find more regularity [333]in his life and manners, than in those of the ignorant and illiterate. There is a remarkable passage of Appian to this purpose. That historian observes, that notwithstanding the established prepossession in favour of learning, yet some philosophers, who have been trusted with absolute power, have very much abused it; and he instances Critias, the most violent of the thirty, and Ariston, who governed Athens in the time of Sylla: but I find, upon inquiry, that Critias was a professed Atheist, and Ariston an Epicurean, which is little or nothing different. And yet Appian wonders at their corruption, as much as if they had been Stoics or Platonists. A modern zealot would have thought that corruption unavoidable.
"I could wish Cleanthes' argument could be so analyzed, as to be rendered quite formal and regular. The propensity of the mind towards it,—unless that propensity were as strong and universal as that to believe in our senses and experience,—will still, I am afraid, be esteemed a suspicious foundation. 'Tis here I wish for your assistance; we must endeavour to prove that this propensity is somewhat different from our inclination to find our own figures in the clouds, our faces in the moon, our passions and sentiments even in inanimate matter. Such an inclination may, and ought to be controlled, and can never be a legitimate ground of assent.
"The instances I have chosen for Cleanthes are, I hope, tolerably happy, and the confusion in which I represent the sceptic seems natural, but—si quid novisti rectius, &c.
"You ask me, 'If the idea of cause and effect is nothing but vicinity,' (you should have said constant vicinity, or, regular conjunction,) I should be glad to know whence is that farther idea of causation against [334]which you argue? This question is pertinent, but I hope I have answered it; we feel, after the constant conjunction, an easy transition from one idea to the other, or a connexion in the imagination; and as it is usual for us to transfer our own feelings to the objects on which they are dependent, we attach the internal sentiment to the external objects. If no single instances of cause and effect appear to have any connexion, but only repeated similar ones, you will find yourself obliged to have recourse to this theory.
"I am sorry our correspondence should lead us into these abstract speculations. I have thought, and read, and composed very little on such questions of late. Morals, Politics, and Literature have employed all my time; but still the other topics I must think more curious, important, entertaining, and useful, than any geometry that is deeper than Euclid. If in order to answer the doubts started, new principles of philosophy must be laid, are not these doubts themselves very useful? Are they not preferable to blind, and ignorant assent? I hope I can answer my own doubts; but if I could not, is it to be wondered at? To give myself airs, and speak magnificently, might I not observe, that Columbus did not conquer empires and plant colonies?
"If I have not unravelled the knot so well, in those last papers I sent you, as perhaps I did in the former, it has not, I assure you, proceeded from want of good will; but some subjects are easier than others: at some times one is happier in his researches and inquiries than at others. Still I have recourse to the si quid novisti rectius; not in order to pay you a compliment, but from a real philosophical doubt and curiosity.[334:1]
[335]"I do not pay compliments, because I do not desire them. For this reason, I am very well pleased you speak so coldly of my petition. I had, however, given orders to have it printed, which perhaps may be executed, though I believe I had better have let it alone; not because it will give you offence, but because it will give no entertainment; not because it may be called profane, but because it may perhaps be deservedly called dull. To tell the truth, I was always so indifferent about fortune, and especially now, that I am more advanced in life, and am a little more at my ease, suited to my extreme frugality, that I neither fear nor hope any thing from man; and am very indifferent either about offence or favour. Not only, I would not sacrifice truth and reason to political views, but scarce even a jest. You may tell me, I ought to have reversed the order of these points, and put the jest first: as it is usual for people to be the fondest of their performances on subjects on which they are least made to excel, and that, consequently, I would give more to be thought a good droll, than to have the praises of erudition, and subtilty, and invention.—This malicious insinuation, I will give no answer to, but proceed with my subject.
"I find, however, I have no more to say on it, but to thank you for Strabo. If the carrier who will deliver this to you do not find you at home, you will please send the book to his quarters; his name is Thomas Henderson, the Berwick carrier; he leaves town on the Thursdays, about the middle of the day; he puts up at James Henderson, stabler, betwixt the foot of Cant's Close and Blackfriar's Wynd. After you have done with these papers, please return them by the same carrier; but there is no hurry; on the contrary the longer you keep them, I shall still believe you [336]are thinking the more seriously to execute what I desire of you. I am, dear Sir,
"P.S.—If you'll be persuaded to assist me with Cleanthes, I fancy you need not take matters any higher than part 3d. He allows, indeed, in part 2d, that all our inference is founded on the similitude of the works of nature to the usual effects of mind, otherwise they must appear a mere chaos. The only difficulty is, why the other assimilations do not weaken the argument; and indeed it would seem from experience and feeling, that they do not weaken it so much as we might naturally expect. A theory to solve this would be very acceptable."[336:1]
