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The following letter to the same friend is a curious instance of Hume's diligent efforts to attain a correct English style:—
[384]Hume to Dr. Clephane.
"Edinburgh, 8th Dec. 1753.
"Dear Doctor,—I am at present reduced to the utmost straits and difficulties. I know people are commonly ashamed to own such distresses. But to whom can one have recourse in his misfortunes, but to his friends? and who can I account my friend, if not Dr. Clephane? not a friend only in the sunshine of fortune, but also in the shade of adversity: not a security only in a calm; but in a storm a sheet-anchor. But, to cut short all prefaces,—though, commonly, beggars and authors abound with them, and I unite both these qualities,—the occasion of my distress is as follows:
"You know that the word enough, or enuff, as it is pronounced by the English, we commonly, in Scotland, when it is applied to number, pronounce enow. Thus we would say: such a one has books enow for study, but not leisure enuff. Now I want to know, whether the English make the same distinction. I observed the distinction already in Lord Shaftesbury; 'Though there be doors enow,' says he, 'to get out of life;' and thinking that this distinction of spelling words, that had both different letters, and different pronunciation, was an improvement, I followed it in my learned productions, though I knew it was not usual. But there has lately arisen in me a doubt, that this is a mere Scotticism; and that the English always pronounce the word, as if it were wrote enuff, whether it be applied to numbers or to quantity. To you, therefore, I apply in this doubt and perplexity. Though I make no question that your ear is well purged from all native impurities, yet trust not entirely to it, but ask any of your English friends, [385]that frequent good company, and let me know their opinion.
"It is a rule of Vaugelas always to consult the ladies, rather than men, in all doubts of language; and he asserts, that they have a more delicate sense of the propriety of expressions. The same author advises us, if we desire any one's opinion in any grammatical difficulty, not to ask him directly; for that confounds his memory, and makes him forget the use, which is the true standard of language. The best way, says he, is to engage him as it were by accident, to employ the expression about which we are in doubt. Now, if you are provided of any expedient, for making the ladies pronounce the word enough, applied both to quantity and number, I beg you to employ it, and to observe carefully and attentively, whether they make any difference in the pronunciation. I am, &c.
"P.S.—I am quite in earnest in desiring a solution of my grammatical doubt."[385:1]
The gentle sensitive character, and hard fate of poor blind Thomas Blacklock, the poet, operated strongly on Hume's kindly feelings. He busied himself with many schemes for enabling his unfortunate friend to gain a subsistence which might make him enjoy "the glorious privilege of being independent:" but with small success. This appears to be the only pursuit which he permitted to divert his attention, at this time, from his great work. We find him writing the following letter to a person whose position in society might enable him to do some substantial service to Blacklock.
[386]Hume to Matthew Sharp of Hoddam.
"Edinburgh, 25th February, 1754.
"Dear Sir,—I have enclosed this letter under one to my friend Mr. Blacklock, who has retired to Dumfries, and proposes to reside there for some time. His character and situation are no doubt known to you, and challenge the greatest regard from every one who has either good taste or sentiments of humanity. He has printed a collection of poems, which his friends are endeavouring to turn to the best account for him. Had he published them in the common way, their merit would have recommended them sufficiently to common sale; but, in that case, the greatest part of the profit, it is well known, would have redounded to the booksellers. His friends, therefore, take copies from him, and distribute them among their acquaintances. The poems, if I have the smallest judgment, are, many of them, extremely beautiful, and all of them remarkable for correctness and propriety. Every man of taste, from the merit of the performance, would be inclined to purchase them: every benevolent man, from the situation of the author, would wish to encourage him; and, as for those who have neither taste nor benevolence, they should be forced, by importunity, to do good against their will. I must, therefore, recommend it to you to send for a cargo of these poems, which the author's great modesty will prevent him from offering to you, and to engage your acquaintance to purchase them. But, dear sir, I would fain go farther: I would fain presume upon our friendship, (which now begins to be ancient between us,) and recommend to your civilities a man who does honour to his country by his talents, and disgraces it by the little encouragement he has hitherto met with. He is a man of very extensive knowledge and of singular [387]good dispositions; and his poetical, though very much to be admired, is the least part of his merit. He is very well qualified to instruct youth, by his acquaintance both with the languages and sciences; and possesses so many arts of supplying the want of sight, that that imperfection would be no hinderance. Perhaps he may entertain some such project in Dumfries; and be assured you could not do your friends a more real service than by recommending them to him. Whatever scheme he may choose to embrace, I was desirous you should be prepossessed in his favour, and be willing to lend him your countenance and protection, which I am sensible would be of great advantage to him.
"Since I saw you, I have not been idle. I have endeavoured to make some use of the library which was intrusted to me, and have employed myself in a composition of British History, beginning with the union of the two crowns. I have finished the reigns of James and Charles, and will soon send them to the press. I have the impudence to pretend that I am of no party, and have no bias. Lord Elibank says, that I am a moderate Whig, and Mr. Wallace that I am a candid Tory. I was extremely sorry that I could not recommend your friend to Director Hume,[387:1] as Mr. Cummin desired me. I have never exchanged a word with that gentleman since I carried Jemmy Kirkpatrick to him; and our acquaintance has entirely dropt. I am," &c.[387:2]
Another letter by Hume, longer and fuller of detail, though it has already appeared in a work well known and much read,[387:3] seems to demand insertion [388]here. It is addressed to the author of Polymetis and friend of Pope.
Hume to Joseph Spence.
Edinburgh, Oct. 15, 1754.
Sir,—The agreeable productions, with which you have entertained the public, have long given me a desire of being known to you: but this desire has been much increased by my finding you engage so warmly in protecting a man of merit, so helpless as Mr. Blacklock. I hope you will indulge me in the liberty I have taken of writing to you. I shall very willingly communicate all the particulars I know of him; though others, by their longer acquaintance with him, are better qualified for this undertaking.
The first time I had ever seen or heard of Mr. Blacklock was about twelve years ago, when I met him in a visit to two young ladies. They informed me of his case, as far as they could in a conversation carried on in his presence. I soon found him to possess a very delicate taste, along with a passionate love of learning. Dr. Stevenson had, at that time, taken him under his protection; and he was perfecting himself in the Latin tongue. I repeated to him Mr. Pope's elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady, which I happened to have by heart: and though I be a very bad reciter, I saw it affected him extremely. His eyes, indeed, the great index of the mind, could express no passion: but his whole body was thrown into agitation. That poem was equally qualified to touch the delicacy of his taste, and the tenderness of his feelings. I left the town a few days after; and being long absent from Scotland, I neither saw nor heard of him for several years. At last an acquaintance of mine told me of him, and said that he would have waited on me, if his excessive modesty had not prevented him. He soon appeared what I have ever since found him, a very elegant genius, of a most affectionate grateful disposition, a modest backward temper, accompanied with that delicate pride, which so naturally attends virtue in distress. His great moderation and frugality, along with the generosity of a few persons, particularly Dr. Stevenson and Provost [389]Alexander, had hitherto enabled him to subsist. All his good qualities are diminished, or rather perhaps embellished, by a great want of knowledge of the world. Men of very benevolent or very malignant dispositions are apt to fall into this error; because they think all mankind like themselves: but I am sorry to say that the former are apt to be most egregiously mistaken.
I have asked him whether he retained any idea of light or colours. He assured me that there remained not the least traces of them. I found, however, that all the poets, even the most descriptive ones, such as Milton and Thomson, were read by him with pleasure. Thomson is one of his favourites. I remembered a story in Locke of a blind man, who said that he knew very well what scarlet was: it was like the sound of a trumpet. I therefore asked him, whether he had not formed associations of that kind, and whether he did not connect colour and sound together. He answered, that as he met so often, both in books and conversation, with the terms expressing colours, he had formed some false associations, which supported him when he read, wrote, or talked of colours: but that the associations were of the intellectual kind. The illumination of the sun, for instance, he supposed to resemble the presence of a friend; the cheerful colour of green, to be like an amiable sympathy, &c. It was not altogether easy for me to understand him: though I believe, in much of our own thinking, there will be found some species of association. 'Tis certain we always think in some language, viz. in that which is most familiar to us; and 'tis but too frequent to substitute words instead of ideas.
If you was acquainted with any mystic, I fancy you would think Mr. Blacklock's case less paradoxical. The mystics certainly have associations by which their discourse, which seems jargon to us, becomes intelligible to themselves. I believe they commonly substitute the feelings of a common amour, in the place of their heavenly sympathies: and if they be not belied, the type is very apt to engross their hearts, and exclude the thing typified.
Apropos to this passion, I once said to my friend, Mr. Blacklock, that I was sure he did not treat love as he did colours; he did not speak of it without feeling it. There [390]appeared too much reality in all his expressions to allow that to be suspected. "Alas!" said he, with a sigh, "I could never bring my heart to a proper tranquillity on that head." Your passion, replied I, will always be better founded than ours, who have sight: we are so foolish as to allow ourselves to be captivated by exterior beauty: nothing but the beauty of the mind can affect you. "Not altogether neither," said he: "the sweetness of the voice has a mighty effect upon me: the symptoms of youth too, which the touch discovers, have great influence. And though such familiar approaches would be ill-bred in others, the girls of my acquaintance indulge me, on account of my blindness, with the liberty of running over them with my hand. And I can by that means judge entirely of their shape. However, no doubt, humour, and temper, and sense, and other beauties of the mind, have an influence upon me as upon others."
You may see from this conversation how difficult it is even for a blind man to be a perfect Platonic. But though Mr. Blacklock never wants his Evanthe, who is the real object of his poetical addresses, I am well assured that all his passions have been perfectly consistent with the purest virtue and innocence. His life indeed has been in all respects perfectly irreproachable.
He had got some rudiments of Latin in his youth, but could not easily read a Latin author till he was near twenty, when Dr. Stevenson put him to a grammar school in Edinburgh. He got a boy to lead him, whom he found very docible; and he taught him Latin. This boy accompanied him to the Greek class in the College, and they both learned Greek. Mr. Blacklock understands that language perfectly, and has read with a very lively pleasure all the Greek authors of taste. Mr. William Alexander, second son to our late provost, and present member, was so good as to teach him French; and he is quite master of that language. He has a very tenacious memory and a quick apprehension. The young students of the College were very desirous of his company, and he reaped the advantage of their eyes, and they of his instructions. He is a very good philosopher, and in general possesses all branches of erudition, except the mathematical. The lad who first attended him having [391]left him, he has got another boy, whom he is beginning to instruct; and he writes me that he is extremely pleased with his docility. The boy's parents, who are people of substance, have put him into Mr. Blacklock's service, chiefly on account of the virtuous and learned education which they know he gives his pupils.
As you are so generous to interest yourself in this poor man's case, who is so much an object both of admiration and compassion, I must inform you entirely of his situation. He has gained about one hundred guineas by this last edition of his poems, and this is the whole stock he has in the world. He has also a bursary, about six pounds a-year. I begun a subscription for supporting him during five years; and I made out twelve guineas a-year among my acquaintance. That is a most terrible undertaking; and some unexpected refusals I met with, damped me, though they have not quite discouraged me from proceeding. We have the prospect of another bursary of ten pounds a-year in the gift of the exchequer; but to the shame of human nature, we met with difficulties. Noblemen interpose with their valet-de-chambres or nurses' sons, who they think would be burdens on themselves. Could we ensure but thirty pounds a-year to this fine genius and man of virtue, he would be easy and happy: for his wants are none but those which Nature has given him, though she has unhappily loaded him with more than other men.
His want of knowledge of the world, and the great delicacy of his temper, render him unfit for managing boys or teaching a school: he would retain no authority. Had it not been for this defect, he could have been made professor of Greek in the University of Aberdeen.
Your scheme of publishing his poems by subscription, I hope will turn to account. I think it impossible he could want, were his case more generally known. I hope it will be so by your means. Sir George Lyttleton, who has so fine a taste, and so much benevolence of temper, would certainly, were the case laid before him in a just light, lend his assistance, or rather indeed quite overcome all difficulties. I know not, whether you have the happiness of that gentleman's acquaintance.
[392]As you are a lover of letters, I shall inform you of a piece of news, which will be agreeable to you: we may hope to see good tragedies in the English language. A young man called Hume, a clergyman of this country, discovers a very fine genius for that species of composition. Some years ago, he wrote a tragedy called Agis, which some of the best judges, such as the Duke of Argyle, Sir George Lyttleton, Mr. Pitt, very much approved of. I own, though I could perceive fine strokes in that tragedy, I never could in general bring myself to like it: the author, I thought, had corrupted his taste by the imitation of Shakspere, whom he ought only to have admired. But the same author has composed a new tragedy on a subject of invention; and here he appears a true disciple of Sophocles and Racine. I hope in time he will vindicate the English stage from the reproach of barbarism.
I shall be very glad if the employing my name in your account of Mr. Blacklock can be of any service. I am, Sir, with great regard, &c.
P.S.—Mr. Blacklock is very docible, and glad to receive corrections. I am only afraid he is too apt to have a deference for other people's judgment. I did not see the last edition till it was printed; but I have sent him some objections to passages, for which he was very thankful. I also desired him to retrench some poems entirely; such as the Ode on Fortitude, and some others, which seemed to me inferior to the rest of the collection. You will very much oblige him, if you use the same freedom. I remarked to him some Scotticisms; but you are better qualified for doing him that service. I have not seen any of his essays; and am afraid his prose is inferior to his poetry. He will soon be in town, when I shall be enabled to write you further particulars.
