DAVID

HUME

BICENTENAR y PAPERS
edited by G. P. Morice

AT 'fUE UNIVERSITY PRESS

EDINBURGH
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( <D .Edinhurgh University Press 1977
Preface l
George Square, Ediuburgh FROM THE 9tb to tbe t4tb August, 1976, tbe Uni-
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( versity oI Eclinburgh, in conjunction with its Institute
ISBN O 85224 316 z
( rOl' Advanced Studies in the Humanities, sponsored a
Printed in Great Britaill by conference in Edinbw'gh to commemorate the bi-
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'oV. & J. Mackay Limited
Chatham
centenar)' of the death of David Hume. It was attended
by sorne 200 scholars from Europe, Norlh America,
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Asia aud Australasia, aud is remembered by many as a
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o very bappy occasion, prompting tbe speculation tbat
sorne portion oí the great pbilosopher's 'good nature
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( aod good hU010W· 1 aud (gaiety oC temper' deseends upon
those who devOLe themselves to the study oí his works.
( There are printed here, in the order in which they
( were delivered lo the eonferenee, seven of the eighl in-
vited pIenary session addresses. Tbe eighth paper ",as
( 'withd.rawn at the author's request. There fol1o\'\'s a
( selection from those seminal' papers that ha ve not beco
printed elsewhere, grouped nccordíl1g lo tapie. A nUID-
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ber of the papers have beeo revised rOl' publientioo,
( and sorne of the seminar papers ha ve been expanded
( fram the very severe limits that were imposed upon
them by tile exigencies oí the conference time-tableo
( I wisb lo tbank Professor W. H. Walsh, chairman
of the Hume Conference Organising Committee, for
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belp aud advice concerning lhe publication of the
book. I am particularly indebted lo Mr \Valter Cairns,
oí the Edinburgh University Press, for his assislance
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in preparing the papers for publication.
G.P.M. E({¡j¡bllrgh, Marclz 1977
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p.181 Durationless Moments in Hume's Trea/ise
( E. W. ::011 Steenburgh, Northenz 111inois Ulliuersit".
( 18G The Te:xtual and Philosophicnl Significal1ce oI Htlme's "'1 S
I Alterations to Treatise 111
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Con/cnls R. ".r.COlillOIl

( 205 Hume OH some Non-:"J'attu'al DistillCtiOl1S

Abbreviatl'OIlS p. viii
( Karl Brillon
p.l Hume ond lite Legacy oI the Dialogues
ErllesL C. l\1osmcr 210 Hume':; Law, Hwne's 'Vay
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Eugcnc Sapaclin, Johnson State College
( 'The true old Humean philosoph),' tlnd its ¡nfluence
on Adarn Smith 318 Hume and the Concept ofPleasul'e
( Slewart R. Suthcrland, Uniuersity ofStirlúlg
D. D. Ral'hael, Universit)' o/ Landall
( 59 HumeJs Science oIPolitics 225 Otller papers presenled all/le Conference
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Duncall Forbes Ulliuersity cif Cambridge
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Conventioo und Value 228 lne/ex

51
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Páll S.Ard.llI, Queell's UlliversitYJ Kingslon
( 69 Edmund Husserl and 'the as ),et, in its mast important
( respect, unrecognised greatness oI Hume'
Gcarge Dauie, University o/ Edinburgh
77 Hume and the Ethics of Belief
( J. A. Passmore) A1LStralian NaLional Ulliuersily
95 Hume and lhe Sources of German Anti-Rationalism
1saiah Berlin.
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117 The Beginnings of Hume's Philosophy
Reinhard Brandt, Ulliversily o/ Marburg
( '128 Hume ood the Deists : a Reconsideraliol1
(1 GWl.ler GawliekJ University o/ the Ruhr
159 La Méthode N.monienne et les Lois Empiriques de
l' Anthropologie dans T1-aité 11
Nelly Demé
146 Hume and his Predecessers en tlle Causal M-axim
I E. J. Khamara, N[ollash Uniuersüy, and D. G. C. Macnabb
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156 Hume's Causal Scepticism
Wade L. Robison, Kalamazoo College
167 Hume 011 Self-Identity, Memory and Causality
Jo/m Bricke, UniuersilyofKansas
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175 Hume on Qualitative Conteut
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Jo/m fr. Dauis, Uniucrsity o/ FYestern Ontario
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ERNEST C.MOSSNER 1
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( Abbreviatiolls Hume and the Legacy of the Dialogues
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Trea/úe A TreaLúe ofHuman Na/ure, ed. L. A. Selby-Bigge,
Oxford 1888
THE Dialogues cOllcenzing Natural Religr:on,l Dav-id Hume's posthu-
moUS work, like the Treatise of Hwnan Nalure, bis first \York, has l
( Enquin'cs Enquin'es Concerning the Human Underslanding and belatedly come mto its own during Qur lifetime. The prime mover DI
( Concermizg the Pnizciples of l\forals,
ed. L. A. Selby-Bigge, 5rd edition with ten revised
both oí these achievements was Professor Norman Kelnp Sm..ilh DI the
lhdversity oI Edinburgh. These two works are no\V general1y regardcd
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by P. H. Nidditeh, Oxford 1975 as lTume's philosophical masterpieces, and Hume himself is more Dnd
( Dialogu.es DialoglleS Concernin{J Nalurallleligion,
ed. Norman Kemp Slnith, 2nd editiol1, Edinbw'gh 1947
more frequently being called the greatest of British philosophers.
Although there is sornething remotely approoching a consensus re·
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( garding the teachings of the Trealise, there is )ittle accord regarding
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Lellers Tlze Lellers ofDavid Hume, ed. J. Y. T. Greig,
2 vols, Oxford 1952
the teaehings of the Dialogues. The basie reasons for tbis laek of agree-
lUel1t remain to be explored, alld it is my intention to bring them out
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( into the open rOl' study and explication.
( The Trealise was the product of luare than ten years of think.ing and
composition of a YOllng maD, while tile Dialogues was composed by 8
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middle-aged man and was still being revised twenty-five years later by
an elderly one, with publication al,,"a)'s delayed. The delay lVas due to l
the unanimous and repeated insistenee oI inÚrnate and overly cautious
friends that tire work be pnblisbed only posthumously, or better, not at
all-and Hume bimseU, after much agonizing reappraisa1, became
( discreet enough to eomply with the former alternative. It is mistaken,

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however, to argue that the Dialog/les was designed to be published
postbunlously. Indeed, evcn dw·illg his terminal iIlness Hume n1.Ol11en-
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( tarily harboured the thol.1ght of immediate publication but proved too
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feeble for the eITort. Finally, since neither his })rinter, vVilIiam Strahan,
nor bis best friend, Adam Smith, was willing to risk even posthumous
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publication, that duty devolved upon his Iavourite and devoled ncphew
David. Tite WQl-k appearcd in 1779. (Adam Smith, 1 8m inclined to l
believe, had read the manuscript correctly and realized tltat it is rar
DlOl·e than the d.iscussion of natural religioll specified in the title.)
Even in the relatively tolerant intellectual society of eigbteenth- l
century Britain, prudence demanded that an)' attack on religiou,
natural 01' revealed, especiaUy natw·al and revealed as in tite present
case, had better be written by incl.irection, that is, ironicallYi sud the l
philosopbical dialogue provided an eminently suitable vehicle as well as
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a sound cJassical precedent. Ever since the distant age of Plato, there
has been a close sffinity between the philosophical di.alogue sud tlle
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rhetoricol device of irouy, that is, la figw-e of speech wherein the r(;'ol
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( 2 Hume alld lhe Legacy of the Dialogues
( meaning is concealed or eontradieted by the words used'. In additioll,
Hume grew up during the heyday of satire end relished the wriling oC
( I Swift, a master oC ironic modes. It is not sW'prising, then, though vir-
( tually unnoticed, that ¡rany is sn indispensable factor oC the Dialogues
eud holds, in trulh, the key to its basic teachings.
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Hume had heco exposed to governmenta] end ecc1esiastical melleces
( oyer the Philosophical &says concerning ffuman Ullderslandillg (1748)
( end the Four Disserlaliolls (1757 ).2 Thl'oughout life he had lo enduTe
social obloqu)', aboye aU, in his native hídebound Scotland. Quite
( natul'slly, therefore, alld fully aware that he \Vas living under t1le
threat oC external pressw'e, Hume made some pl'udential concessions to
the accepted opiniolls oí his time. lt is in this light that ODe can under-
( stand Hume's resoll1tion that Philo, the sceptic of the Dialogues, who
( wouId almost certainly be identified with the anthor, shollld not
appea!' to win the debate, while Cleanthes, whose al'gllm.ents and con-
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victions were more closely aligned with those oí Hume's publie, should
( be named the victor. This prudential stratagem, which avoided an open
( rupture wilh popular prejudices, remains to tbis day a stumbling-
block and a source of misunderstanding to those l'eaders ",ho have
failed to recognize Hume's irony,
The Dialogues concerning Natural Religioll, as sn example of the
phiJosophical dialogue, is heyond dispute the most bril1iant in the
English language, su1'passing Be1'keley's Three Dialogues helween Bylas
alld Philonous ('715), the only serious contender. h has repeatedly
been asked: Ir there is Dothing fundamentally new in the Dialogues
(which is the faet, with the exception of a new concept of nature), why
( was it written al an, and, after so much hind1'ance, published? This is
( surely an obtuse question, Religion, whether personal, phil050phical l
ol' as a social phenomenon, was one of thc dominant interests of Hume
( throughout his life; and it may well be that the intense fiterest of the
schoolboy in religion, as we leam from Boswell (p. 76) impelled tbe
yaulh into the paths of philosophy. Far is nol specula tive theism, as both
eleanthes and Philo remind us, 'only a branch oi philosophy' (p. '58
& 223)? So the Dialogues was designed to be the Iulfilment of Hume's
thoughts on religion and lo round out the presentations in Sections x
aud XI of the Ellquiry concernillg Human Underslandillg and in Tite
Natural History oi Religion, as well as in the two posthumo\ls essays
'OC Suicide' and 'Ofthe Immortality oi the Sou!'.
The Dialogues is the final marriage oI philosophy \Vith 8rt that had
becn Hume's ambition throughout a long career as man oIletters, And
it is this element oí art that elevates the Dialogues froro a strielly
philosophical discourse tbat can be summarized to a literary discourse
( that eannot be sUUlmarized but that must be viewed in the totality oI
(
ERN EST C. MOSSNER 5
its presentation to be appreciated artistically as wen as comprehended
intellectually. The Dialogues is, if 001 original in the oarrowest sense,
Hume's 1TI0st mature wo1'k on religioD, in brief, bis llhilosophical te5t8-
ment. Hume prized it, 1 believe, 85 the best thing he lIad ever written,J
The dialogue form, which he had mastered through two previous ex-
pcriments, provided him with tIJe opporlllnit)' for 8n artistic display 01'
lile dialectic of ideas and images. :\5 the interlocutors presellt their cases,
or counter those of otbers, the pros aod cous of the argument produce
t hat state of ambivalence so congenial to the mind:i of sceptical thinkers
such DS Hume-whose propen5ity was to doubt rather than to believe.
Tite preseot essay i5 not designed to assess each argnment of the three
illterlocutors and to pl'onounce it good 01' had pllilosophy-that is the
llllilosophical approach, whic11 in its purest form is concerued onl)' with
tlJe text) ideas and development, and i5 unconcerned lvith related his-
torieal information exclusive oí other works bythe same autllor, Rather,
let llS attempt what has DOt been attempted before, at least fully, con-
sistent1y, and rigorously, that is, to approacb the Dialogues .frorn the
biographical point oí view I togethel' \,\;th a sluvey oI i15 al'ustic SO·uc-
ture, and, inevitably, a modicum oí philosophical analysis, seel.i.ng to
oetermine whetber a resolution may be fOllnd of the several disputed
are as. At the very least, the biographical apIRoach will have t1>e merit
of eliciting the author's intentions and olher pertinent views iusora!' as
they are ayailable tlu'ough external evidence. 4 At best, it may provide
an altogether ne\'\'}'eading orthe Dialogues.
At tbe pioper time, 1 sbal1 present whal l iJl my judgment, are the
teachiDgs oi tbe Dialogues, including aD iuterpretation of tbe perora-
tion, which is Philo's version oI the theistic argument and also of ",hat
1 choose lo call Philo's ironic Iprayerl, These conc1nsions are the rigbt-
fuI pl'oducts oí Hume's mitigated scepticism/ his fundamental pbilo-
sophical pasition. At that final stage we sha11 have achievcd, 1 nust,
llnderstanding of the 'legacy' itself, tbe iroDic })crsona] message of
religiotls phiJosophy that Hume'was determined to pass on to posterity.
To begin with tbe beginning: Hume's intentions, expressed and im-
plicit. First of a]], he has a ful1y articulated concept oí what a dialogue
should be. Tbe (spirit of dialogue" be declares, demands that 'a toler-
able ec¡uality [he] maintained among the sJ>eakers'.6 To he avoided is
'the appearance of aulhor ene! reae/er', 01' even worse, of lpedagoguc
and pupil' (p.127), and, ahove aU, tbat 'vulgar Error ... of putti.ng
nothing but Nonsense ioto the l\louth of the Adversary'.' (Inciden-
taUy, Berkeley's Hylas is generally regarded as a man oí sU'aw, a view
that Hume presumably sbared. )
The author is, quite naturally in Hume's opioion, one of the charac-
terso In a letterwritten to a criticofhis lA Dialogue',8 appended to the
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'1 Hwne and the Legar:y afthe Dialogues
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Enquiry COllcerning the Prináples of klorals (1751), where there are
two disputants, Hume eomplains: (But you impute to me both the
Sentiments of tbe Sceptic, & the Sentiments of bis Antagonist; which
( 1 can never admit oI. In euery Dialogue, 110 more lhan. Olle Persoll cal1
bc supposed lo represenl the Author' Cmy italies). Th.is last statement
( has not, to the best oí my recollection, been cited bitherto as material
( to the reading of the Dialogues. Yet, one \Vay Ol" the other, it is of more
tllan passingconsequence.
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"iba, then, represents Hume in the Dialogues? There really should
( be 00 dispute on litis question because the autobiographical evidence is
conclnsive. Yet dispute there is amI, oddly enough, uot entirely con-
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fined lo those readers who neglect the evidenee. In a letter 9 of 10 l'vlarch
( '75' to his conservatively-minded frieud, Gilbert Elliot of i\linto,
( Hume makes it positive that he himselI is represented by Philo: (1 have
often thought, that the best way of composing a Dialogue, wou'd be for
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two Persons that are of difTerent Opinions about any Question of Im-
( portance, to \vI·ite alternately lhe difTerent Parts DI the Discourse, &
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repl)' to each other. By this Means, that yt¡Jgar Error ,,"ould be avoided,
oIplltting Ilothing bnt Nonsense inta the Mouth of the Advers",·y: And
( at the same time, a Variety oí Character & Genius being upheld, woud
make the ",hale Iook more natural & uoaffeeled. Hall it beell my good
Fortune to live near you 1 shou'd have taken 011 me the Character of
Pbilo, in the Dialogue, which you'JI own 1 coud have supported
( naturaJly euongh: Alld yon woud not have been averse to that of
Cleanthes.'
( Earlier in bis letter Hume had provided his [riend with on account of
the development oI his scellticism, which became, oC eourse, Philo's
scepticism: (Doubts stole in, dissipated, return'd, ,,"ere again dissipated,
( return'd agaiu; aud it was a perpetual stTllggle oí a restless Imaginatiou
( against Inclinatioll, perhaps against Reason.' Quite obviously, Hmne
did not need assistance (to su·engthen that Side oC the Argument'. On
the contrar)', he was soJiciling Elliot's assistanee in strengthening the
argmneot of Cleanthes, the (Antagonist'.
In shol"t, by bis mvn testimony, Hume is Philo aod Philo alone. lo
That there are several passages of Cleanthes and even. couple of Demea
that are also Hume's own is beside tbe paiOL The yiews oí the tlu·ee in-
terlocutors need llot be mutually exclusive, any more than those would
be, in actual lile, of three friends discussing religious philosophy from
( tJu·ee different points of víev\'. 1'0 avoid (putting i\othing hut llOnSel1Se
( into the Mouth oí the Adversary' the interlocutors are left free, not
only to disagree with one anolher, hut on occasion lo agree with one
another. Therefore, by ",ay of example, Hume ironically allows
Cleanthes, rather than Phi10, to refute Demea's a priori proaf of the
ERNEST C.MOSSNER 5
being on a God (p. ,8g). F=thermore, CJeanthes and Demea are used
far artistic as well as idcational and logical effect in the struclure of tile l
Dialogues. Statements oí botlI, for instance, are employed as plants lo
anticípate Philo's sceptical conclusions al tbe close of Part X 1 t. Cleanlhes,
os early as Part J, remarks incredulously: 'You propase then, Philo, ...
to erect rellgious faitb on philosophical scepticism' (p.152); amI
Demea, attacking Cleauthes' empírica) analogical argument in Port
VI, cries in uttcr outrage: 'Ta aH the I>LU"poses oí life, the lheory of
religion becomes altogether useless .. .' (p. '70).
The Dialogues, it must be remembered, is imaginary philosophical
cOllversation aud, therefore, does noL pretend lo have tlle logical COl11-
pleteness of a philosophical treatise. In consequence, a ready hut nol
cntirely satisfactory answer can be made to a vexing question fre-
,¡uently asked by modern philosophers: Ir Hume is truly rep,·eseuted
by Philo but has also placed several of his vie,,"s in the mouths of
Cleanthes and Demea, how can we recognize his personal convictions
on religion? The answer is plainl)' that we cannot-certainly not with-
out considerable effort on OUT part and evel1 then not definitively. The 1
conclusions oC a sceptic-even a mitigated sceptic-cannot be SUOl-
marized in a one-two-three paltero Ol' creed iC for no otber reason l1Jan
that a sceptie, unlike other types oC philosophers, is not altogether
stable in bis thinking, is perpetllallr rethinl;llg his principIes. Scepti-
ciSDl, first aod last, 15 a frame of mind, neither a eollection llar a s)'stem
of doctrines, and it frequentIy ends with suspense-of-judgment. The
best \Ve can do is to familiarize ourselves ",ith the mind oI tlte }1hi10-
sopher and aIso with his personalitr. Then, aod ooly then, can \Ve be
be reasonably sw·e that \Ve fully understand him in any given context.
Addillg to the difficulties of the re.der is the facl thnt Hume is not only
a seeptie but an ironist as well.
To proceed to Hwue's implied 01' covert intentions, fo1' which, fOI"-
tunately, he has put us on lhe alert. On 15 August 1776, just ten dars
before his death, he "Tote lo Adam Smith concerning the Dialogues:
(... 1 find that Ilothing can be more cautiousl)' amI more arlflllly
written'.1l Here, tlleo, is the nece5~arr clue· to HlIme's eoverl inteJl-
tions: caution and artfulness.
Hume's basie prudential strnteg)" in the Dialogucs may no\\' be for-
mulated: Pililo, who as llulUe's spokesmBn for llIitigated sceptieism
will perforce be the vletor in the philosophical debate, wiU neverthe-
lcss be nrtfully depicted as being vanquished by the 'Antngonist',
Cleanthes. To achieve these two ends Philo will be granted full scope to
develop his al'guments and lo refute those of the others, and Cleanthes
will forthwith be declared victor. The orst of these ends is easily mel:
Philo is allotted more spnce thao the oLltel' two put together: Demen,
( 6 Hume alld ¡he Legacy of the Dialogues
( twelve per cent; Cleanthes, twenly-one per cenl; aod Philo) sixty-
seven per ceut. To pul it dramaticallYJ Philo requires more lhan three
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times tite space of Cleanlhes, the alleged hera of the Dialogues. lVlost
( importantIy, Philo dominates Parts XI alld XII, aboye aIl, the highly
( cnigm8tic perora lían.
[Javing providcd Pililo with sufficient (01', some ",ould sar, more
( tlwll suITicient) Oppol'tuniLy lo win the debate philosophicallYl Hume
( now proclaims Cleanthes lhe victOl', He began this dissimulation 111i5-
cliievollsl)' in lhe lene!" DI 1751 to Gilbert ElHet, which apeos: ¡You
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wou.'d percei,-e by the Sample 1 have given YOll) that 1 make Cleanlhes
( tIte Hel'D of the Dialogue. 'Vhatcyel' )'ou can think oC, to strengthen
thal side oC the Argllment, will be mosl acceptable to me.'12 And in a
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lener of 1776 to his printeJo,1J Hume unashamedly compounds the
( clissimulation by lIssuTing him that 'l ... introduce (intothe Dialogues]
( a Sceptic, who i5 indeed refuted, and allast gives IIp the ATgllment, nay
confesses thal he ""as only amusing himself by a1l his Cavils ...'. Philo,
{ it need hardly be emphasized, i:i far from being refuted, never gives up
( the al'gument, nnd i5 certainly io cleadly earnest in his ironic position at
the close.
( The stratagem of oslensiblr sub5tituting Cleanthes for Philo as
( pllilosophical hero in the te:x't of the Dialogues is céll1'ied out lal'gely
tlil'ough the medium oí Pamphilus. Now Pamphilus is a student under
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the tutorship oC Clean1hes; he is variously described as a 'youth', as a
'pupil', as 'your adopted son', and as 'so young aman'. He takes no part
in the di5Cussion-'IVly youth rendered me a mere auditor of lheil'
disputes' {pp.108-g)-and appears only as the nanator oí the
( Dialogues in a lener designed for the edification of his fl'iend, Hermip-
( pus. Paradoxically, it is this student, seemingly so iosignificant in the
conduct of the debate, who is aClually Hume's ironical rnasterstroke of
( deception.
Pamphilus parlicipates only at the opening and al tbe clase, and in
five brieC asides (pp. 15 z , 150, 155, 166,Z15) duTing the COUTse of lhe
discussioD, sllperficially inconsequential but subtly belittling philo's
philosophical posilion and building up the case for him as the 'careless'
~ceptic. The sale functioo oí Pamphilus is to provide cover fol' the
dissimulation. Everything he says, tberefore, is properIy suspec1 85
potentially exhibiting caution and arLfulness. To be specific: Pamphilus'
two substantive stalements in the prologue are both dissembled. The
first is the restriction of the topic for debate to the attributes oí a God,
to the exciusion of lhe being oí a God: 'VVhat trulh so obvious, so certain,
as lhe being oI a God.... BUl in treating oC tbis obvious and important
tl'uth; what obscure questions occur, concerning tbe nature of tbat
divine Being; his atlributes, his decrees, his plan oí providence?'
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ERNEST C. MOSSNER 7
(p. 128) As will be shown later, the discussion is devoted nearly equally
LO t]¡e being and to the attributes oC a God.
The second dissimulation of Pamphilus in the prologue is his
c]¡nraclerizations of lhe t]¡ree speakers: 'lhe aCCUl'ate phil050phical turo
uf Cleanlhes', 'the careless scepticism of Philo', and 'lhe rigid inOexible
orlhodoxy of Demea (p.128). These chal'acterizations are ironica]]y
nlTercd al face vaIne and are always, as far as 1 know, accepled al face
,'ulllc. Yet, JUSi 85 soon as they are approached with the cautionary
:,ccpLicism due to every statement of Pamphilus, they stand disclosed as
Jt'Ccpliye. The pm'pose ¡s, as uS\lal, to play clown the role of Philo and
tu play tlp that of Cleanthes. (Poor Demea i, always condescended to by
I he olhers.) But to retUl'll to the charactel'izatiolls. As a sheel' matter oí
fllCt lhey are all designedly misconceiyed. Fa)' Cleallthes' 'plJilosophical
1lI1'U' is not aCCllrate (it is muddled); Philo';; 'scepticism' is not careless
(it is disciplilled); Demea's 'orthodoxy' is not rigid inflexible (it is
po/itie e:rpediellt).
Finally, there i5 the pllpil's ironic verdiet in favour of the master:
'... so 1 confess, that, upon a seriousl'eview of the whole, I cannot but
think, that Philo's principIes are more probable than Demea's; but lhat
lhose of Cleanthes approach still nearer to the truth' (1'.228). That
Pamphillls has yet another reason to come to this implausible conclusion
will appear in a momento The aIread)' sllaky thesis tllnt Cleanthes js the
philosophical hero is given lhe COllp de gráce br recognition oí Hmne's
deception through Pamphil1l5; bUl it is thal yery deeeption tha1 makes
Cleanthes Hume's artistic, 01' had I not bener sa)', artful hero?
Irony is the most vital oí IJume's rhetol'ical devices to foster caution
ami ar1fllloess, and \Vil] be examined more fully in due course.
Anolher matter for coosidel'ation, meantime, is that Hnme's Dia-
logues concerning l'latural Religion is moclelled upon Cicero'sDe lVatura
Deorllln. This is of no pal'all'lount importance, but tlle general pa1'al-
lelism oI charaeters and structure, as \Ye]) as the significant divergences,
ten us something abont Hmne's art. In De ¡Vatura Deorum Cicero, who
is regarded by Humel-i as 'one oí lhe finest gentlemen of his age', but
who is sometimes not sllfficiently polite to the 'Antagonist' in bis
dialogues, appears in person nt the beginning and the close, whereas
Hume has employed Pam})hilus, a Plalonist mentioned by Cicero in
passing. This devke affords a prime eXBl1lple of Hume's subtly ironic
mockery: to engage a fledgling Platonist, that 15 lo 58)' a rationalist, an
anti-Humean, to pass judgmeot on the outcome of the learued discus-
sioo and tbu5 seemingly to award the palm to Cleanthes. ''Vere it not
for Hume's artful m~nipulation of Pamphilus: what reader would be so
oaive as to deem Cleanthes the philosophical hero, the víctor of lhe
debate?
( 8 Hume and lhe Legacy oflhe Dialogues
( --=:'Cicero's disputants are Balbus the Stoic, Velleius the Epicurean, and
( Cotta the Sceptic, of whom the last is of sorne consequence to Hume in
the portrayal oí Philo. The [mal sentence in Hume's Dialogues made by
( Pamphilus, to wl.üch ,ve have just referred, is a delicious ironica! imita-
( tion 15 of Cicera's final sentence in De NalllraDeorum: cVelleiusthought
Cottn's view the truer; while J, OH the contrary, thougbt that Balbus'
( views carne oearer lo what appeared to be tbe trutb.'
( De l\'alura Deorwll. was DOl the on1y model availabJé to Hume ror the
( structuring DI his OWll dia.logue. Galileo has been consistently over-
Jooked by cornmentators on Hume in this rhetorical connection. 16 For
Galileo's prohIem with bis hero is exactly analogous to HUlDe's with
( his. Lauded by Philo as 'that great genius, one of tile sublimest that
(
ever emled' (p. 151), Galileo had publisbed in 165z lhe celebrated
Dialogue concenling the TUJO C/u'e¡ World Systems, wherein the merits
of lhe Col'ernican and the Aristotelian-Plolemaic hypotheses are dis-
cussed in a witty and altogether brillianl exchange oí >iews. Sad to say,
the rhetorie of irooy proved unavailing, aud the Inquisition, in its
colleetive wisdom, judged that Galileo ,yas advocating, rather lhan
speeulating aboul, tbe heliocentric bypothesis. The divine authority oí
Genesis ,yas being impugned. So Galileo was constrained to abjtu'e his
( here y and to submit to punishrnent.
To tw'n now to the question of the identitr oí Hurne's three speakers.
Philo, and Pbilo alone, is Hume's spokesman, as he himself has made
perfectly clear, The reader is thus placed uuder an artistic, as well as a
historical aud ideatioDal, obligation to attempt to identify Philo's two
'Antagonis15'. VVllO, then, can Cleantbes and DenIea be supposed to be?
1 ha ve long believed (since 1 "Tole, forty yeaJ:s ago, my first essay on
tlle Dialogues) tllat they were Bisllop Joseph Buder and Dr Samuel
( Clarke respectively,17 But this is a poillt 1 do not wish to iosist on because
it is uot oí the greatest coasequence. 'VithOllt u'oubling to review here
( aU the evidence concerning these identifications, suffice it to say th8t
Butler was Britail1's outstanding empirical theologicall of the eigh-
teenth century vvhile Clarke was lhe outstandiDg rationalist theologian
(
-and Hume \Vas well acquainted wilh tite \York oí both, respeetiDg the
oue and coutemning tile other. Demea, it may he observed, turns out
to be 6 schizophreue, at once a metaphysiciau aud a pious obscurantist,
sud this split in personality is what makes his identification as Clarke
(01' as 8u)"00e clse, for tl1at matter) less secw'e than tbat of Cleanthes as
Butler.
The philosophical fUllction of Demea in the debate is to present three
theses: The being oí a God can be proved a pn'ori (pp. 188-9); the
attributes of a God are iucomprehensible (pp. ''l-'-Z, 156-7); and
mankind is utterly rnisel'ahle in this life, which is the 'porch' to a future
ERNEST e, MOSSNER 9
life where inequities are rectified for thosc who bave proved themselves
J110rally (p. 199)' Piulo accepts and amplifies the secoud and the thi.rd oí
these tlteses (with his own mental reservations, lo be sure. on the latter
l
part of the thi.l'd) and, i.l'onically, is made to sWTender to Cleauthes the
pl'ivilegc of refuting the first, which is HUllle's own logical refutation
of tha metapbysicai in the real m of maUer of fact: ' . . . there js au
evident absurdity in pretending to demonstrate a matter of fact, 01' to
prove il by any 8l'guments a priori. . . . VVhatever we coneeive as
existent, we can also cODceive as non-existent .. " (p. 18g ).18
Demea's orthodox expediency, his clerical Sl"tlugness, and his concoct-
illg of theological mares' nes15 draw tbe scatbing rebuke oí Cleanthes:
'No! . , . No! These 8l-bitrary suppositions can never be admitted, con-
trary to matter of fact, visible and uncontroverted. vVhence can any l
cause be knowu but from its kl10wn effects? 'i\'hence can any hypothesis
be l'roved but írom the apl'arellt phenomena? To establish one hypo-
thesis upon another is building entirely in the air; and the utmost we
ever attain, by these conjectures and fietions, is to ascertain the hare
possibility of QW' opioion; but never can we, upon such tenns, establish
its I'eality' (pp. 199-zoo). In the dramatic seuse, the gullible Demea
acts as the unwitting ally of Philo in attacking the philosophiC<11 basis oí
Cleanthes' argument from analogy; and his presence has the touic
efreel oí making the Dialogues 'look more natural & unaffeeted'. Tbis
artistic touch is heightened b)' Demea's pelulant withdrawal al the
close oíPllrt XI wheu the guile of Philo has helatedly become "l'parellt
tohim.
The philos0l'hical íunctioll oí Cleanthes is likewise. tlueeíold: To
refute Demea's a priori pl'oof oí tlle being of a God (p. 18(,); to explicale
lllle proper office of religion' ,19 \,,{hich is relegaled lo the status of ltand-
llIaiden to morality (p. 220); and, !Uost importalltly, to present the a
poslcriori argument of the being and the attributes oI a God, specifica1Jy
lile argument fro01 design in its eighteentll-century anaJogical scientific
form (pp. L~5-5 el passim). Cleanthes is convinced tllat tbis argull1ent
is the one and on1r: IBy this argument a pOSleriori, anu by this argu-
lHent alone, do \Yc prove al once lhe existence of a Deit)', and his
similarity to human mind, and intelligence' (1'_ 145). In this conviction,
Cleanthes is echoing the position taken by Bishop BuLler, lending
apologist of the Establishment: l. , , te an unprejudiced mind ten
thousand thousal1d instances of design cannot but prove a designer'.20
Cleallthes remains unperturbed by the ract that his argulUent is intrin-
sically anthropomorpbic, as is poinled out by both Demea (p_ 158) and
Philo (p. 160).
In the dramatic sense, as befits his role as arúul hero, Cleanthes is
given more scope titan his views justly deserve, He is, for instance, per-
( 10 Hume and ¡he Legaey cif lhe Dialogues
(
miUed to repest arguments t11at have ah"cad)' beco refuted bJ Philo,
( snd the first two of the precediog arguments are Hume's own. Al one
( point, Cleanthes is driveo by Philo into tbe strangely muddled aod
eertainly untenable pbilosophical position thal 'Religion, however cor-
( rupted, is still belter thao no religion at a11' (p. 219). Cleaothes might
( n150 have been taken lo task fol' his deplorable habit of begging the
question. Nevertheless, CleantlJes, arLislically speaking, remains a
( 1'olhe1" engaging figure of a respeetable theologian sLriving to maintain
( his composure and his argument in the face of a more imaginatiye and
a more philosophical wi.l than his OWI1.
The design argument, the sole argument 1hat Philo acknowlerlges la
have merit, becomes the larget oí a long series of refutations aud
(
counterproposals, both logical and imaginative, which display his amaz-
ing virtuosity of intellect and of tongue. 'i'\Titness hi5 sardonic gibe:
( ""hal peculiar privilege has this little agitation oI the brain which we
( caH thought, lhat we must thus make it the model of the whole
universe?' (p. 14.8) 'o/}10 can forbear 10 smile at and to deHght iD the
( audacit), of inventioo oí Philo's trealmeot of the Brahminic O1)'th ofthe
( 'infinite spider' 1hat SPUl1 the \,,'ol'ld frOlu Chis bowels'? 'VVhy no orderly
s),stem. may nol be spun from the belly as \-ve11 as h'om the brain',
( observes Philo wr)'ly, lit win be difficult for him [that is, Cleanthes in
presenting]1..Ís analogical arguments] to give a satisfactory reason' (pp.
180-1). This passage i]lustrates Philo's rClluctio ad absurduffl technique
of displaying ho,," the most outrageous analogy can be made to seem as
plausible-aud as implausible-as Cleantbes' generally more conven-
tional analogies. Philo furtber poinlS out that reason is not tbe ooly
principIe of arder observable in the world, that there are also illstinct,
generation, and vegetation (P.178), and Lhat SOme variety ofimperfeet
( analogy can be drawn from each of these principIes.
After Philo has tearned with Demea to press the argument of tbe
misery of man l Cleanthes is w:iven to concede: 'IT you can make 0\.1 t the
present point, and prove mankind to be unhapp)' Ol" coITupted, there is
an eod at once of aH religion. For to what purpose establish the natural
atLl"ibutes oC the Deity, while the moral arestill doubtful and uncertain?'
(p. 199)· PhiJo theo challenges Cleanthes 'to tug the labolU'ing 08r'
(p. 202) in support of the analogical argumeot fOl" tbe moral attributes
of a God. Aod when Cleanthes tugs that oar alJ toofeebly, Philoresponds
""ith a devastating picture of lIature: 'Look l'ound tllis univel'se. 'Vhat
nn immense ])J"ofusion of beings, animated and organized, sensible aud
( '-
active! You admire tllis prodigious variety aod fecundity. But inspeet a
l liLtle more narrowly tbese living existences, the ool}' beings worth 1
regal"ding. How hostile and destructive to each other! How insufficient
all of them fOI" their own happiness! How contemptible or odious to the
11
ERN EST C. MOSSNER
spcctator! The whole presents oothing but tbe idea of a blind nature
ilOpregnated by a great vivifying pl'inciple, acd pow'ing forth froro ber
lar without mscernment 01' parental care, her maimed and abortive
childreo' (p. Z 11).
Nnture here takes 00 a new aud disquieting meaniog that is not to be
fOllml in nny of IIume's earliel' ",-itings aod is far removed from his
lIol"llHlIl}' benigll, life-enhaneing view.:U This oe", coneeption of natm'e,
posL-Darwinian as it were l comes as the clllmination oI the depietion oI
lile evüs inherent in natw'e that Philo had beeo pm·suing Wilh remorse-
It:S5 reiteration in the previous passage (pp. 205-11), and was to sum
IIp in lhe succeeding passage (p.212) as follows: 'The true conc1usioo
¡s, th¡tt the original source of aH things is entirel)" indifferent to aIl tbese
principIes, and has 00 more regard to good aboye in tItan to beat aboye
l:uld, 01' to drought aboye moisture, 01' to light aboye beav)'.' Tbe same
nrgument, Philo proceeds, wi11 apply to moral evil as wen as to natural
cvil ' ... with linJe Ol" no yariatioo; and we have no more reason to iDier,
lllill the rectitude of the supreme Being resembles human recLiLude
Llwn Lhal his benevolence resemblesthe human.:
Tite 'blind nature' passage of Philo is borh a shattering artistic parody
.. nd a shattel'ing philosopbical rebuttal of Cleanthes' ])rototype of the
i1nalogical argumeot: 'Look I"ound the world: Contemplate tbe ",hole
..nd every part of jt: You will find it to be nothiog but one great maebioe,
sllbdivided ioto an infinite number oí lesser machines, which again
ndmit oC subdivisioos, to a degree beyond ",hat human senses aod
faculties can trace and explain' (1'.145). let Philo's most shattering
rebuttal of Cleanthes' aoalogical arguments l to roy mindl is thal coo-
cerning the 'yery natw'e of analogy itself. For while it is a valid ana-
logical argument to infer an archiLect when we see a building, that is
::iolcly because we have bad many experimences of a like natLU·e. But
il is not valid to iofer a world-maker from a world because \'Ve have had
110 experieoce of world-making. The argument fmm a unique effect
(the world) to a unique cause (a God) is invalid (pp. 149-50).
(1t is ",ell known that Kant was so impressed with Hwne's refutarlon
of the argument from desigo in tbe Dialogues that he inu'oduced it iota
his own Critique ofPure Reason.)
From the 3rtistic poiot of view ooce again, 1 suggest tbat Philo,
whether deliberately or not, "'las created in Hume's own image. For
Philo resembles his creator to a remarkable degree: his inventiveness,
his provoeativeness, his dry humour. As with Hume himselfl there is
allVays an air of simple sanity about PIUlo.
To sum up om findings to tbe present. lo general, it has been estab-
lished Lhat tbe Dialogues is far more complex in art, in structW"c, and
in argumeot than meets tbe eye at tbe initial reading. This ironic

( i'
12 Hume and the Legacy of the Dialogues
( -,ti
(
complexity, together \Vith its accompanying purposeful ambiguity, is
caused primarily by Hume's prudential intent to play down the role of
( Philo, the sceptic and Iris spokesman, and to l,lay up the role of Cle-
anthes, tle (Alltflgonist' sud the advocaLe DI 'experimental theism'
(
(p. 165).
( Specifically, the following five salient points have been established:
( (1) Philo and Philo alone is Hume's spokesman, in accordance with bis
dictum that 'In every Dialogue, IZO more [Izan Dne Persan CaJl be
(
(
SllPpOSed lo represen! lhe Author'. In addition, Philo enlbraces several
of Hume's views that had beeo m,trulIy assigned to the 'Antagonists'.
(
(2) Pamphilus is Hume's hitherto unsuspected masterstroke oE ironie
deception. COllsequently his cvery statement is to be viewed ",it11
( cautiao sud scepticism. The results DI this turnabout are far-reaching:
the mind of the reader is subtly prepared beforehand to accept false
(
(
evaluations oí the philosophicaJ tempers of the speakers aud, in the
event, is fm,ther prepared to accept a faIse statement oí the outcome oí
( the discussioIl. (Pamphilus wilI reapI)ear in yet another variety oí
irony.) (5) Cleanthes ma)' be taken as Butler and Demea as Clarke;
(
hut this, while fitting artisticaHy, historicaliy, aod ideationally, is not
mandatory. (,,) Philo is the philosophica! hero, the winner of the
debate, hut Cleanthes is the artful hero. (5) A new concept of nature
( has beeo iun-oduced, one that is far removed from Hunle's hitherto
benign view. This nE',," natw-e is amoral and indifferent to mano The
first four of these findings supply bases for the better understanding of
the major controversia! areas. As such, they are instrumental, the
meal1S to the end, uot the end itself. The fifth finding, that on nature,
( will})lay a significant role in the conclusion to this essay.
'Ve are naw in a position to see how irauy, the 1110st vital oí Hume's
( rhetorical devices for fostering caurion aod artíulness, holds the key to
( the ultima te teacbings oí tbe Dialogues. Already noliced, a dozen al"
lUore times, in passing hut not yet studied, irony, it nlay be recnlled,
has been idelltified as {a figure of speech wherein the real lnea~ing is
concealed 01' eantradicted by the words used'. It is time to caU attention
to the fact that I-hmle's term 'artfulness' is synollymous with Iny tenn
{irooy'. It is also time to dehe nlOre deeply iolO a select few of the
principal uses that Hume makes oí irony.22
- R.ecognitioll of irony is essential to the understanding of Hume in aH
his writings, but particularly in the Dialogues. Here the guidance of tbe
biagrapher mar In-ove helpful to the general reader aod conceivably
also to the philosopher. For i.rony to be recognized there is required inti-
mate knowledge of the mind of the author, as seen through all his
publicatíons, and of his character, his personality, as fUl"ther seen
thraugh his carrespondence, Iris autobiography, his unpublished papers,
(
¡¡
ERNE5T C. MOSSNER 13 li
nnd possib!y his biography. A word of caution: although Hume is a con-
sum mate ironist, one has to learo llot to be overzealous aod to see irony
T
lurking aTound every cornero Conversely and more importantly, when
we have trulyrecognized il'onyin accordaoce with the abovecriteria, itis
..,
intverative that we do llot hesitate to accept it no matter how radical
I,
1
nntl veoturesome the conclusion may seem to be in the first instance.
"1'
The íorm of irony most fanliliar to the modero philosopher is dau bt- !.
lcss the Socratic. (The 'ironica!' Socrates23 is Hume's epithet 011 one of
lhe infrequent occasioDs that he uses the ,,"ord.) Cornmonly understood
115 (pretended ignorance Ol" willingness to learn ñ'om others assllmed for
il
the sake of making their errors conspicuous by meaos of adl'oit ques- '1
',1
tioning' , Socratic irony generally holds the 'Aotagonist' up to ridicule
1
or contempt. Hume takes pains ta dissociate his own dialogue technique
onu irony froln the Socratic by (preserving a proper balance amang the
I
speakers', by avoiding 'tIte image of pedagogue and pIlpil', ond by pro-
viding an atmosphere that (woud l1lake the whole look more natural & i
lluaffected'. The Humean dialogue technique and irony are lUOl·e
subtle, more w·bane, 111are naturalistic than the Socratic, aud en-
~i
gender a more refined and humane variety oí humour. For Hume,
¡rany is pcrvasive, virtually a way af life. 24 Predictably, his irony is
I
mast pronounced when he is treatiog of religion.
vVhile the creatian of the reporter Pamphilus is Hume's first master-
stroke oí irony, the speeches of Philo are, uoderstandably, Hume's chief
¡ronic vehicle. So if there is io Pbilo's otherwise discipline u presentntion
apparent incoDsistency ol' manifest confusion or dOY\'1uight contradic-
lian, it is meet to look rOl' irony. Although 'a foolish cansistencj' is the
hobgoblin of little minds', the philosopher stands apart fronl the rest of
mank.ind as being uniquely required to think in a clear and orderly
manner.
'Ihe vein of irony, whicb, as we have seen, runs piecemeol through-
out the Dialogues, is apened decisively in the concluding Part XII.
Philo's ostensible confession of faith at the outset, a passage at which
lIlany a commentator has boggled, seLs the tone. 15 there anything
disingerlUous, anything contradictoty, in brief, anything ironical llere? -,,f
Yes, lhe professed íen'oLU' 01' zeal: '. . . no one', avers Philo with
t1uplicity, 'has a deeper sense of religion impressed on his mind, 01' pays
more profound adoratían to the di vine Being as he discovers himself lo
·rcason, in the inexplicable contrivance and al'lifice oí nature' (p. 2 14.)'
Dccpcr sense of rclz'gion? Profound adoralioll lo lhe divine Being? No.
Thcse pious feelings, or rather passions, are totally alieD to the man
David Hume. They derive salely from faith, and by his O\yn 8vowal
David Hume ever since youth was devoid oí religious faitb,25 They are
ironically presented llere on11 as precautionary accommodation to the
(
14 Hume alld Ihe Legaey o/Ihe Dialogues
(
conventioos of the times, in accordance with the philosopher's standard
( practice when wTiting on religion, and a:re full)', though still ironically,
( nullified al lhe close.
Pamphilus, lhat youthful he raId of ¡rany, had taken for granted in
(
the prologue to the Dialogues lhat the being of a God is a u'uth 'so
( obvious, so censio' (p. 1z8), as to require no proof. This lill1itstion of
lhe debate lo the attributes of n God is accepted without qucsrion by tbe
(
thl'ee dehatel's at the same time as it is ignored by thcm in practice.
( Thus the wl1ry render, who has schooled himself to be seeptical oí every
( lItterance of Pamphilus, is quite prepared to learn that in reality the
argument to the being of a God 1S brought to the rore neal'Iy equalIy
with that to the attributes of a God: ir my couut is coneet, by Demea J
( four times; by Cleanthes J seven times; aod by Philo, ten times. ZIS The
indisputable facl is lhat the being o(a God, Pamphilus lO lhe contrary
( notwithstandiug, is a majorJ iI oot the majar, issue of the Dialogues. The
cumulative erfect of arguing this issue so frequenlly is lO take on the
ironieal implication that tlle being of a God not only is not a selI~
(
evident truth but 011 the contrary is not rntionally provable. This in~
( stance of reverse-psychology is substantiated by Philo 011 the empirical
level (pp. ]44-50 el passim), and demonslraled by Cleanlhes (p. ]8g)
on the metaph)'sical level. The outcome, when the veil of ambiguity is
lifted J is unmistakahJe: the being oí a God is susceptible neithel" oí
ralional proof nor of rational disproof. Hence it Collows tbat no room is
lefl lo the sceplica! philosopher fOl' either dogmalic (01' blind) lbeism 01'
dogmatic (or blind) atheislU. To him the part of wisdom is suspense-of-
judgment.
'''hat is more, in a work professedly restricted to natural religion and
peopled wilh charaeters bearing Cieeronian na mes, it seems incon-
( gruolls that the terros Christian, Clnistianity, and Christendom should
appear no fewer lhan seven times (pp. 138,141, 160,228), not to men-
tion such minor ineongruities as 'reverend geDtlemen', 'orlhodox
divines and doctors', 'pious divines and preachers\ 'revealed lheology',
etc. Morover, Demea is condescended to tlu-ollghout as a not overly
bl'ight clergyman who is wont to lapse into Lhe eaot oí lhe preac11er; aud
Philo repeats, from the notorious footaote to lhe essay 'OC National
Characters J , the charge lhat the clergy from the very natm'e of their
profession are ddven iuto hypocrisy (p. 222). Agaiu J iI roy identification
oI CleaDthes and Demea as Christian diviDes is acceptable J we have
further indication oi what may be taken as deliberate incongl'uity: the
J)lentiful and uncalled-for infusion oC Christian nomenclature into a
(
discussion oí nalural religion. 27
l More direcl and more cogent thao the foregoing, indeed a elear
giveaway, is lhe last seDtence, the iroDic 'amen' to Philo's ¡ronie
r: 1\ ¡..; E5T c. MOSSN E R '5
'prn)"cr': To be a philosophical sceplic isJ in aman 01 letters the first and
J
fIIost uselltial step towards being a sound, believing Chnstian . . .' (p.
~'::!8J my italics). (To Hume J it is wen to bear iD mind, 'man ofletters 'J
ill this context, means Olle of the enlightened minorit)'.) These final
wonls oC Philo in lhe 'prayer' are followed onl)' by PamphiJns' io-
""('1I1l0US and aIread)' discredited assessment oC the ouLcome oI the
~
debíltC. Thc evidenee presenLed so far, mainl}' circurustantial, begins
ltJ n/Tord n presumption that lhe Dl-alogues concerllútg Araturtd Religioll
is , in filct, overtly di.rected against natw'al religioD and coyertly dil'eCled
np,"aill5t revealed religion, Chrislianity and ChristianiLy's God.
Ilume's lifeloDg Siud)' oC human nature, 'the science of man', em-
hraces the eonviction lhat aU forms of 'polmlar' 01' ',rulgar' revealed
rcligion (in effeet, Cluistianit)' as commonl)' pract.ised) as opposed to
'philosophical and rational' religion (p. 220) tend lO oscilIate between
tilO polarities of superstition aDd enthusiasm (p. 222). As early as 1741
Ifllme had )lublished RD essaYJ 'OI Superstition aod Enthusiasm,' both
01' which passioDS iD their extremities are stigmatized as lhe lcorrup-
liolls of true religion'.28 Tbe evidence adduced is lnrgely dJ'awn Irom
the rel igious turmoils iD Christian stetes dluing Lhe seventeenth century.
Hume had long since fOl'sworn Christianity, belief in which he had
stipulated in 'OI Miraeles' requires a 'continued miraele ' . Z9 '~-iLh tbe
pllblication oí that essay iD 1748 after its excision from the Treatise a
dccade earlier, Hume recognized lhat he had passed the paiot oC no
relurn in the publie disclosure ofhis religious thinking, and was entirely
willing to own the 'eharaeter of an infidel'.JO This resolution was
humorously detajled iD 175_7: '1 believe 1 shaJI write no more History;
hut pl'oceed direetly to attack the Lord's Prayel' & tlle ten Command-
menls & tbo single Cat[ echism J; aud lo recommend Suicide &
Adulter),; and so persist, tiJI it shall please lhe Lord lo take me to him-
self.'Jl From Paris, 8 few years later, he exelaimed i..rritably: 'Sorne
[Englishmen] hate me because 1 am not a Tory, sorne beca use 1 am
1I0t él "llig, SOrne because 1 am nol a Christian, and aIl because 1 am a
ScotsmaD.' Also from Paris he castigated the English natioo as 'relaps-
illg fast into the deepest SlUpidil)', Christianil)' & Ignorance'. In ]766
he remarked about his prolégé Rousseau: 'He has a hankering after the
Bible, and is indeed Httle bel1.er than a Christian in a \Vay of his OWD. 'J2
On 7 July ]776 lhe dying philosopher "'as subjecled to a searching
probe oí his religious convictions by James Boswell. According to that
busybody, Hume 'said flally that lhe !Vloralil)' of evel')' Religion was
bad, and, 1 really tbought, was not joculal' when he said "thal when he
henrd aman was religious, be concluded be was a rascal, tbough be had
known SOrne instances of very good men being religious".... 1 asked
him if lhe thougbt oC Annihilation never gave him uDeasiness. He said
 1°
(
[-{/Une and the Legacy of tlze Dialogues
(
( oot the least; 00 more than the thought that he had oever beeo, as
Lucretius observes' (pp. 76-7). Hume's indielment of C\n-istianity .
( continued on his death-bedJ when he assw'ed his physician, Dot \v1.thout
( a touch oí ironic humour, that 'he bad beeo ver)' busily empIoyed in
making his counlrymen wiser aud particularly in delivering t]¡em fram
( the Christian superslition, hut that he had 001 yet eompleated that
( great work' .33 '1'hat great work' \Vas carried one step fw-tber in the
posthumOlls Dialogues aud constitutes a component of its 'legacy'.
(
Hume's aversion-I choose the word advised1y-to Christianity
\Vas deep-rooted aud informed bis entire career as phiJosopber, from
( Treatise lo Dialogues. This is Dot to say, however, that Hume was in
nny sense a Scottish Voltaire flow'ishing the banuee of Ecrasez l'infl1me
( -that would have beeu unthinkable, simply out of ebaraeter. Never-
( theless, it is abllndantly clear that irony in the Dialogues concerning
NaturaL ReLigioll starts with the titIe. (Adam Smith, 1 rest assw·ed,
( had iudeed read the maullscript correctly aad recoguized it for what it
( is: an open anack on natural reHgion and a disguised attack on aU
'popular' religious, in particular, Christianity. Smith, no doubt, felt it
improper to attaek Cbristianity in publie.)"
The peroratiou of the DiaLoglles was eomposed during the last
months oí his Jue ",hen Hume was fully awa1'e that death was immiu-
ent. In tite first halí (p. 227), Philo, assuming the part of advocate,
presents Hume's summar}' theistic position: 'natLU-al theology' is
resolved iuto 'one simple, though somewhat ambiguous, at least lm-
defined propositioo, lhallhe cause or causes 01' order in llze wliverse prob-
ably bear sorne remole analogy lo human zillelligence'. l\Ioreover, this
proposition can 'afford no inference that afTects humnn life ...' and 'the
( 8Dalogy, inlperfect as it is, ... cau be caJ'l'ied no farther than to the
human inteJligence; and canDot be transferred, with aoy appearance of
probability, to the other qualities of the mind .. .', namely, the moral.
Sorne readers of the Dialogues no doubt remain perfectly content te
be abie to deteet in Philo's 'simple ... sonle,,"hat ambiguous ... un-
defined' proposition a residual nonlinal tbeism. So be it. Other readers,
perhaps more perceptive, perhaps more sceptical, perhaps more
realistic, might be inclined to protest: that a God "ithout recogniznble
morol attributes can provide no solace fol' elTant mankind;36 that slIch
DO impoverished God bears little 01' no resem blance to the personal God
of Christianity; that Philo's highly qualified and \vatered-do\Vu pro-
position, in effect, borders on suspense-of-judgment; that the 'religious
hypothesis' (p. 216), the superoatoral, for all practical purposes so far
as mankiud is cODcerned, has been phased out.
In the second halí of the peroration Philo offers an artfully eouehed
prayer' invoking divine revelatioJl to rneliorate the ignorance of roan
s
ERNES'f C.MOSSNER '7
eoncerning the human eondition. 11,e plaintive tone gi ves way to the
hortative. Christianity is the target: 'But believe me, Cleanthes, the
most natw-al sentiment, wJúch a well-clisposed mind wil! feel on this
occnsio n , is a longing desire snd expectntion, that Heaven would be
1-
pleased to dissipate, at ~east alleviat~, this prof~und ignorn'~ce, ~)y
nffording some more partlcular revcJallOll to mankUld, 8nd making rus-
coveries oI the natw·e, altl'ibutes, and operations of the divine object of
om· Faith. A person, seasoned witb a just sense of the imperfections oI
natural reasoo, will fly lo revealed trullz with the greatest avidity: -,-
\Vltile the haughty dogmatist, persuaded that he cau erect a complete
'ptem of theology by the mere help of philosophy, disdains any farthe ..
aid, and rejects this adventiLious iosu·uctor. To be a philosoplzical sceptic
is l in a mall 01' letters, lhe P:,-Sl alld mosl essentlal stcp towards bein{J a
sOlmd, beLieving Christian . . .' (pp. 227-8, my italies).
The incredulous p..edietion of Cleantltes back iu Part 1 that Philo
I'roposed 'to erect religious faith on philosophieal scepticism' (p. '3 2 )
has at long last come to pass-but not without having undergone a sea-
change. For this final sentence of Philo in the 'Iu·ayer', the 'amen', may
1l0W be viewed in proper perspecLive and stand revealed ns tite c1imactic
and supreme irooy of the Dialogucs cOllcerllill{J Natural Rcligion. (In
tlle niaeteenth century the religious faith of a Kierkegaard, who liked
lo think of himselI as a 'IVIaster of irony,' was to filld no deception in
Hume's positioo but a genuine source oí streng1.h to enSUI·e tite
'Christian Leap.')
1 shall oow proceed to the eonsequences of penetrating tlu·ough the
mask of Philo's ironical 'prayer' and of speculating ",hat RUine might
have said had he felt free, in the religious and social climate of his day,
to be entirely frank and outspokeo. Another \Vay of putting the problem i
is: afier the philosoplzical exorcismo 01 the sllpernatural from religioll, -1
w1tal remai1ZS?
The nnswer to this crucial qllestion caUs for au illqui:ry i.nto the bed-
rock tenchings of the Dialogues, wh..ich composo the personal message
oC religious philosophy that Hume ,yas ironically bequeatlúng to
]>osterity. Three propositions cover the gTound. The first deals with
natural religion, the second, with revealed religion, Christianity, alld
!10th are negntive in 1Jurport; the thiro is positiye, dealing with rnan
nlDlle in an indifferent nature. AH in all, and at the risk of over-
silll)llifying, these three propositioLlS constitute, in my judgmenl, the
eore of Hume's thiuking on mitigated sceptici~1lI as a way of Jife. This
cnlightened, Humean ",ay of life is ú·ee of the supernatllral, free of
theology, free oí revelation, free oí a God-in fine, in tIte wo1'ds of
Philo, a 'philosophical and raLiona!' religion (p. 220), to whieh 1 shall
ollly add (surely gratuitousl)"} one that is whoJly secular and humanis-
 1M Hume and the Legaey of the Dialogues
(
( tic. man-macle fol' mano This enlightened, Humean \Val' oC life may
appropriatel)" albeit u'cnicany, be named the reZigion ofmall.
(
First proposilion. The a priori procf oC the beiug of 8 God is refuted
( by nn unimpeachable demonstrotion. J1 The a posteriori argument from
( design proves on)y that the being of a God is fairrtly analogous to
human intelligence aud this analogy, raint as it iS I cannot be transferred
( to the moral attributes cE a God. So the conducl of human life reniains
( unaffected. The lreligious hypothesis' is iml)Qtent. There is no natural
religion.
( Second proposition. Revenled religion, Christianity, fares the same as
( natural religion philosophically. It is sanctioned ol1ly by faith, which is
itself a standing miracle and, consequently, unphilosophical. Christi-
( l\.cligion,'O ",as he consciollsly l'endering mto English Se),.'tus Empiri-
anity as commonly practised tends to faIl ioto con·uptioo, its clergr,
( into hypocrisy. The Christian dispensation is leh empty.J8
Tlzird proposition. The ilnplied response to the crucial questioD,
(
Afier the plu'Iosophical e:r:orcism of the supernaturalfrom religiolZ, tullat
( remains?, is short and simple: the religion ofman. Pul more explicilly it
reads: man, intrepid all.d enlightened man, stands starkly aIone to fend
for himseifin alZ indIJlerent nalare.
Let 1.1S no,," consider how these three teachings, the two negative aud
the one positive, develop, how tbe portrait oI the philosopher as an en-
ligbtened and mitigated sceptic comes iuto focus on tbe bumanistic
level.
At this point, the fictional Philo, Hume's spokesman, is to be
abandoned for the philosopher lúmself. In contrast to the ironic Hume
( ,:uer!,.44 CaU this creativa scepticism and dec1aralion oí independence
of Philo's 'prayer', the candid Hume is intrepid. Stripped of the mask
of iroDic ambiguity, there emerges a Hume who is cautiously opti-
mistic, sounding a note of quiet confidence. (This muted optimism is
(
not lO ue confused with the so-called leasi optimism of tbe Enlighten-
( ment, the idea of necessary progTess fOl1nd in some of the phiIosophes,
notably the Physiocrates.)
Hume's quiel confidence is sll'ictly limited to the relatively few 'men
of letters', the enligbtened minority, lhe lparty oI humanity'. He had
( long since concluded 1hal the vulgar will ahvays be seducible by one
variety or otber of COl'l'l1pt religion. The 'vulgar, that is, indeed, aIl
(
mankind, a few excepted, being ignorant aod uoinstrueted' (as tbey
are descl'ibed in The lValural History of Religion)39 are set apar! from
the select few who comp1'ise the enlightened. These enlightened few,
the 'learned aod wise', 40 have tbe capacit)" aod tbe courage aod tbe will
to live without the supernatural in religion, to remain uDdaunted .
( ",hen compelled by intellectual integrity to )·elinquish unresolved
philosophical profnndities for suspense-of-judgment, 'that very sus-
pense 01' balance, which is the triumph of scepticism' (p. 156), as Philo
f.f\NEST C. MOSSNER 19
pUl:; iL. 1\]oral pbilosophy, which l~ad ante.dated metaphJsics in J:Iume's
Ihiloso})hical development, ]'emalllS dornmallt al the clase. 1t lS truly
~he lscienee of human nature', man's understanding, limited though
il ma)' he, oí 11imself and of bis role in an indifferenl natm'e, in s11ol't,
lile rcligion ofman. Once again Hume cautions: 'Be a philosopher; but,
allliJ:.'t aU yom'philosopll)T, be still a man.'41
Fol' beLLer al' for WOl'se and bereft of divine guidaHce, as \YeH as ofthe
hCIH.:ficence of nature, man, intJ'epid and enlightened manl remains
free to keep his own counsel; aud human uatU1'e is so framed as to
llIake it feosible ror him to live the good life, la monl)T, steady virtue,
... calm snushine of the mind'. '\11en Hume Wl'ote lcalrn sunshine of
tite nünd' some score of years earlier in IThe Natural Historr DI
ell:." moad oC ataraxia? 1 do DOt know, and there is no means of knowing.
¡hit that he himselfbed achieved lhat blessed stnle of lcalm sunshine of
lhe mind' is, 1 lllink, beyond dispute.
Fil'st to last, Trealise to Dialogucs) Hume is ever lhe humani3t, true
. 0\\11 premISe
to I u::; . t1lat 'H llIuan TatUl'e •JS t Ileonl)'scJenceo
·· f man ....
'H
The t\\'o essential components of the religion of man are present in his
final thinking: first, philosophical eX01'cism of the sllpernaturol (the
JCll1ise of religions, natural and revealed) andl second, implicit trust in
enlightened man, the only hope for the futw·c. For Hllme's mitigated
sceptieism, in the end, is nol wholl)' negative, neither is it deadeniug
01' ojlatheLic. Ralher, it is active, it is creaLive. Aboye an, it is a
llec1aration of independence of the living s})il'it of man: 1.J\lfan anclfor
IlUmanism, 01' naturalislU, 01' neopaganism, or secularisID, 01" positivism,
01" pragmatism, 01' agnosticism, 01' what you will, it is a serene and
cOllndent affirmatioD, in the most 3utheDlic voiee orthe Enlightenment,
of Lhe perenoial tbeme of the dignity oI roan, his dignity in living aud
!lis dignity in dying. In the most profollud sense, this ironic insight iuto
lhe reIigt'oll of mall cphilosophical end rationa!' is tIle legac)' out of the
grllve, as it wel'e, of David H l11ne's Dialogues concerlling lVatural
neligion. 45
1. David Humc Dialogues cOtlcernillg lValural Rcligioll, ed. Norman Kemp
Smith, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh and Landon 1947). Al] rcferences to the Dia-
logues al'e to Lhis editionj page numbers al'e given within parentheses in
the body of the texto
See E. C. Manner 1'he Lije ofDavid Hume (Edinburgh and Austin 1954,
reprinted Oxforo 1970), especially chs. !l:2, !!41 38. CiLed hereafter as Lije.
Philosophical Essays concernillg Human UlId.erstantling (1748) became
the familiar EnqlliJ)" concernillg Human UJl(l~rst(l1ldiTlg, in 1758. The
laLLer wiII be ciLed hereafter as Ellqlli,-ies.
 ( ZO
,. ~
Hume aizd tlze Legacy of tite Dialogues
(
3· Letters, ii. 323: 'Sorne of my Fricnds flatter me, that it is the best thing
( 1 ever wrote.' See also n. 10, below. Most i.ll1portant is Hume's over-
riding determination lo pu.blish.
( 4· l\lichacl Morrisroe, Jr. in a series of articles explores lhe rhetorical
approach to the Dialogues concernillC Natural Religioll. 1 list three items.
( (l) 'Hume's Rhetorical Stratcgy: A Solution to the Riddle of the Dia-
( logues concerning Natural Religion ' Te~'as Studics in Litera/un alld
Langunge XI (1965) g65-'i4i (z) 'Charactcriution as Rhetorical Device
( in Hume's Dialogues conccrni"G Platural Religion' Enlightl!nme.IIL Essa.js
1 (1970) 95-1°7; (5) 'Unguistic AnaJysis as Rhetorical Pattern in David
( Hume' in W. B. Todd (ed.) Hume alld tire EttliclrtellnulIt (Edinhurglt anu
Austin 1974) pp. 72-8~. Giancarlo Carabelli in Hume e la rdorica deU':
( ideologia 'Uno studio dei Dialoclri sulla rdigiolle llaturale' (Firenze 1972)
( explores a number of difIerent approachcs.
5· The term 'mitigated' scepticislll, wltich 1 shall be employing througltout,
( is discussed at Jengtlt in The EI/qui,.y cOl/cerning Human Understandillg,
seco XII, pt. lJI. lt is sharply differel1tiüted from 'py,.rhonism or tite ex-
(
cessive principIes of scepticism' (Ellquiries, pp. 158-9). 'M.itigated' does
( not appear in tlle Dialogues; but Cleanthes (p. 154) prondes a dcscription
of 'reasonahle' scepticism: 'The declared profession of every reasonahle
( sceptic is only to reject abstruse, remote and refined argumenls; to ad-
here to conunon ¡eose and the plain ilLslincts of nature; and te assent,
r
where.er any rensoos strikc him with so full a force, tltat he cannot,
\\;t1lout the greatesL nolencc, pre.ent it.' '¡VIoderate' scepticism is men-
tioned in Trefltisc 1. il'. 5,
6. 'Oí the Rise and Progress of Lhe Arts and Sciences' in Thc Philosophical
WorÁ's o/ Dar:id Humc: ed. T. H. Green and T. H. Grose (London 187'~-5)
• 01. 111, p. 189, n. 2. Cited hereafter as Pllil.1Vorks.
7· Lctters, i. 154.
(
8. National Library oC Scotlaud: MS 5582, f. 214; Lelters, i. 173, from prin-
( ted source. IVly itaJics.
9· Letters, i. 154.
( 10. The anonymolls writer oC the 'Avertissement' to a Fl'ellch translation of
the Dialogues in 1780 mues two interesting statements: (1) 'l'Auteur qui
l la regardait COmme son chef-d'ocuvrc' and (2) III parait avoir voulu se
peindre SOl1S le personage de Phi Ion '. This inCormation was kindIy
brought lo O1.y atteution by Professor lan S. Ross or the University oC
( B.ritish Columbia. 1 8m also obJiged to ProCessor Dal'id Raphael oC the
University oí Leudan for poinling out an eITor oC inference.
( 11. Lctlcrs, ii. 334.
12. LeUe,.s, l. 155-4.
l 13· Letters, ii. 323.
\. 14· 'or tite Risc and Progren of the Arts and Sciences' in Pllil. rVor/rs, "01.
llI, pp. 188-g.
1 owe tltis reference to Peter Ga)' Tllc ElIligllrctll1lcnl: ./lit Iuterprelation
(London 1967) _01. 1, p. -P511. Johl1 V. Price also notes the parallelism:
'Sceptics in Cicero and Hume' Jou,.,¡nl afilie History o/ Idcas xxv (196...)
98 .
,6. UntiJ enlightened by the historian, Prjscilln Robertson, 1 was one of tite
delinquents.
1\1ossner 'The Enigma oC Hume' in Jl'1itLd XIV (1936) 35'~-49. Candidates
l
\..
(
r
ERNE5T C.1-10SSN ER 21
Cor the role of Demea are few, Clarke belllg the favourite. For Cleanthes
the competition is keen, though few candidates have meTit. Perhaps the
Jnost substantial, after Butler, js tite Newtonian J Calin Maclaurin. See
Robert Hurlbutt Iiume, Newton, atld tite Desigu. Argumelll (Lincoln,
Nchraska 1965) pp. 1°3-4 and p. 103, n. 1. Passages írom 'Mac1aurin's An
ACCOllllt of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophical Discoveries (Lomlon 1748)
pp. 378-80, 381, are cited by Hurlbutt as parallel in argument aneI in lan-
gunge Lo some of Cleanthes. Parallels of Clennthes \dth passage.s ~n the
A,talog-y o/ Religion (1736), however, are also llumerous. B~tJel' 15 ll~ the
ClIlpirical traditiol1, a follower of tile methods oí the New Science. It!S, to
he sme, not unlikely tbat Hume was deliberateJy following select pas-
sases of hoth Dutler and :Maclaurin. It shouJd not be overlooltec.l that at
Icast one commentator has sBid that 'Pampltilus is Hume' I See C. 'V. Hende I
SI lidies irL the PhilQsophy o/ Dilvid liume (Princeton 1925) p. 307·
,~. cL EtlC(,áries, p. 164, aud see also n. 37 below.
Tuken from the MS of a suppressed preface Lo the second volume of lhc
'9·
history of the Stuarts. The suppressetl prefacc contains an elaboration of
Hume's iraoic view of thc role of religion in history. See Lije, pp. 506---7.
20. Joseph Butler Atlalogy o/ Reli,;ion (Lendon (736) pt. I1, Conclusion.
21. See Norman Kemp Smith Thc Philosophy of David Hume (Laudon 194)
p. 564: 'Coming in the dramatic selting of the Dialogues, this view of
Nalure may not, however, be taken to be Hume's o,,"n. No other passage
in uny of his wTitings is 011 these Iines.' But surely it is conceinble Ulüt
llumc, in the last resort, may ha\'e altered his eal'lier view when the
nrgument in the Dialogues demamled reassessm~llt oC llolure. Phi lo: ' ...
that vague, indeterminate word, natnre, to whiefl the "ulgar refer evcry·
tlling, is notat the botlom more inexplicable [than re-awll]' (p. 178).
1 rcstrict myself lo Part XII, and then onl)" to tite openiug and the close.
'A Dialogue' in Phil. rVor/rs, vol. IV, p. 295.
101m V. Price Y/'e Ironie Hume (Austin 1965) is pl'e-eminenll)" useful in
this contexto
Lctttrs, i. 154, and the Boswell iJlterriew (p. 76).
'fhe count is necessarily arbitrary because the discussion can hardlY.,.V9id
lile question oí the being of n God; but the following references may be
rcganled as minima1: Demea: pp. 141, 143, 1'~5, 188-9¡ Clcal/lhes: pp.
1¡~3, 144-5, 163,.185, 189, 190, 216; Phil,o: pp. 142, t.H, 161-2, 165-6,
168-g, 178: 180, 214-15, 216-17, 227.
Contrast Hume's lplentiful infusion of Christian nomenclalul'e' wHh
lllllter's spare use in Pt. 1, 'Of Natural R.eligion', of the Atlalogy o/
ltc1igiotL. In Ule text 'Christian' appean lhree times onl)', logether with
five references to l·evealec.1 l'eligion. In the notes 'Christinnil( appenrs
unce onl)' together witlt three reCerences to revcaled religion.
2~. 'or Superstition amI Enthusinsm' in Phi/. IVorl..'s, vol. 111, pp. 144-50.
29· El/quiries, p. 151.
3°· Lcttcrs, i. 106.
31. Ncw Lcttcrs oJ Dat:id Hume, ec1. Klibnnsky and Mossnel' (O:xfol'd 1954) p.
'~3· Ciletl herenfter as New Ldlcrs.
32 • LClltrsJ i. 470, 498. Lije, p. 523.
53· Lifc, p. 601,
34· Hurne in 1747 wTote 'the Church is "')" Avenion'; the occasion was n
review of the se\"'eral professions available lo him. ~Ncw Letters, p. 26. 'Of
( 22 I-]wne and lhe Legacy of the Dialogues D. D.RAPHAEL
( l\l¡l'acles', in Dne form al" anotiler was ol'iginally a part oC Lhe T1'ealise. It
was wilhdrawn out oC dcfel'cncc lO Butler.
(
L 35· Adam Smith explained lo Sll'ahan what bis paliey wauId have been had
Hume leCt lhe publicntion oC lhe Dialogu.es lo his discretion: the
( l ..•
'The tl'Ue old Humean philosophy'
111anuscripL shoultl have beco most carefully preserved and upon rny
( llecease restol'ed lo his familYi bUl iL nCHr should ha ve been published in and its Influence 011 Adam Smith
L 1I1Y ¡¡relime' Lcttcrs, ii. 453.
( 36. lIad nollhe simple-minded Demea caulioned Cleanthes ngainst this very \VHEN Hu ME ''VROTE, in his short autobiography, that the Treatise
olltcomc? (p. J 70).
( 'feH deal!-borll from the press', he was quoting poeny and so perhaps
L 37· Clcanthcs' demollslration (p. 18g): 'Nothing is demonstrablc J nnleu lhe
ílllowing himself to indulge in poetic licence. Ernest i\I05sner has told
( contrary implies a contradiction. Nothing J that is distinclly conceivable,
implicS' a contradiclion. "'hatever we conceive as e::...istent, we can abo liS of the reception oí the Treatúe, both in England and on the contin-
conceive as non·existent. There 1S no Being, thet·erore, whose non. cnt of Europe. There is no dOllbt that Hume was well aware oí the
exiscence implies a contradiction. Consequently there is no Being, whose rc\·iews, and Professor Mossner takes the statement in iVIy OWll Life to
( existence is demonstrable.'
58. With Hume's philosophical rejection of bolh natural and revealed reli-
IlIcan 111at the book was misunderstood and unappreciated ratber than
( IInnoticed. 1
gi01lS, lhe queslion of alhcism ine"itably al;ses. Although to a Christian J an
( unbelicV"er may qualify as an atheist J a true scepLic on his own temu can One gets a different impression from the discussioD oí HumeJs views,
never be an atheist because he abhoTS dogmas negative as well as dogmas after matm'e reflection J by contemperar), Scottish thinkers. The ablest
( positive. Unlike some philosophers and almost everyone che,' Hume was of thero was Reid, and although he was highly critical of Hurne's
conlent to remain in a total suspense~of~judgmentposition when this was
( demanded. This may be called agnosticism, ir you please. From the bio-
philosophy, as expounded in lhe Trealise, he cerlainly appredaled its
graphical point of view, at Icast J it is certain that Hume did not regard importance. So did an earlier critic, Henry Horne, Lord Kames, who
himself as an atheist. VYilness the oonfron1ation in Paris with Baron arglled against Hume's aceount oí belier, causation J self-identit)" and
d 'Holbach and his alheistical club, lhe 'seiks in lhe Rne Royalc'. Hume justice in Essays on lVloraiit]'" and l\Taturai Religion (1751). In the
startled lhe Baron by observing lhal 'he did nol belie"e in atheisls, that he ,hird edition of lhal work (p. 149), published in '779 after Hume's
( ll.:ld never seen any' (see Lije, p. 485)' In lhe Dialogl/cs (p. 218) Philo
repeats lhe same opinion: '1 ncxl lurn to lhe atheist, who, 1 assel't, is only
Jcath, KBmes coocIuded a criticism of the Enquiry concernillg rhe
nominally so, and can never possihly he in earnest .. .'. See also the En· Principies of Morals with 3D apology, saying that HumeJs earlier work
( quiries, p. 1.~9. Some Brilish theologians oC the eighteenth century, e.g' l liad caused him to be Ijustly esteemed the greatest philosopher of his
1'homas Broughtoll amI William Baxler, concur. time'.
( 39· Phil. fY01-ks, vol. IV, p. 354. Nol all lhe Scottish philosophers shared lhal view. vVe must except
4-0 . Euquiries, p. 133.
( 41. Ellqlliries, p. 9. Ithat bigotted silly fellow, Beanie', whose nnderstanding in these
42. Phi].. J'Vorks, vol. IV, p. 360. Hume may huye found his 'poetical in· matters was not llluch better than that of his admiTers, DI' Johnsoo and
(
Spil·ation' in one oC his Cavourite pocts. See Pope Essay Olt MatllV, 1. 168: Panuy BUJ'ney. In her Diary for 1780,2 Fannr Burnar describes a con-
'The soul's calm sllnshine, an¡} the heal't-felt joy'; and Eloisa lo Abtlard.
l 1.209: 'Eternal Sllllshine or tltc spotless mind'.
yersation with a young lady who happened to let fan lhe remark lhal
she ilid not belieye in an afterlife. Fanny was deeply shocked.
( '~3· Tren.lise, p. 273·
44· '1 allow lhe justness oC the poet's exc!amation on the endless projects oC '"'VVhere, for Heaven's sake,' IO'ied, 'where have you picked up
human race, Mall aml/or ever!' in 'Idea oC a perCect Cornmonwealth' in sueh dreadful reasoning?'
Phil. IVorb, vol. I!J, pp. 492-3. The paet is Pope Satires, 5, l. 252. 'In Hume,' said she; '1 haveread his Essa)'s repeatedly.'
45· A new text of the Dialogues based entirely on the M5S in the Royal 11 aro son'y to find they have power to do so mueh mischief.
Society oC Edinburgh was published on 2 Decemher 1976 by the Ciaren· You should not have read lhem, at least lill a mau equal lo Hume
don Press. This new texl, which is failhCul to the intent oC the author, is
edited by John V. Price of Edinhurgh University. 1 regret that il appeared
in abilities had answered him. Have you reed any more infidel
too late lo be available for my essay. writers?'
'Yes J Bolingbroke l the divinest oí aIl wl·iters.'
( 'And doyou read nothingupon therightside?'
'Yes, the Bible, lill 1 was sick to death of il, every Sunday eveJ1-
ing to my mother.'

- -- - - - - - -
 (
t Tlze lrue old Humean phL1osophy' and Adam Smith
(
( IHave Jau read Beattie on the Immutability ofTruth?'
INo.'
( tGive me leave then to recornmend it to ,rou. After Hume's
( Essaysyouought toread it.'
But tben that was a meeting of two young ladies in the drawiog
(
l'ooms oC Leudan. There \Vas more enlightenment in some quarters oC
( Scotland. Note the words of Kames's tribute to Hume in 1779: he (was
( justly esteemed the greatest philosopher cf his time'. Kames is l'eport-
iag Dot simply his OW11 judgement hut a general one whicb he endorses.
( It seeros to me likely that he is referring to the cirele of 'literati' in
( Ediobw"gh DI which he was a pTominent member. Adaro. Smith wrote,
witb utter sincerity, io 1776 tbat he had al\Yays reglll'ded Hume as
(
approaching perfection in wisdom (as 'well as in virtue);3 so he clearly
( was one oí th05e who esteemed RUIne Cthe greatest philosopher of rus
time'. There is no reason lo doubt Kames's evidence tl1at others thought
(
the same. HlUne was llot "ithout bonour in bis on'n country as a
( philosopher.
What ,ort of a philosopher, though? The published cornmeo15 of
(
Kames and R.eid ,uggest chat they saw Hume ,imply as a sceptic. R.eid
( even said that Hume must ha ve been joking when he wrote, in the
( Introduclioll to the Trealise, DI Olaking the science of human natw-e
tbe foundation of a complete system oI the sciences; this could llot be
taken seriously, Reid thought, lwhen the intention of the 'r"hole \York
is to shew, that there is neithel' human nature llar science in the
world' ../II This is a familiar picture. There is no appreciation of Hume's
positive contribution to epistemology, his alternative to a rationalist
account of olU' koowledge of the world and ourseh'es. 1t was differeot
wheo R.eid carne to <liscuss Hume's etbics. He knew that Hume had
positive views in this field of pbilosophy: moral judgement res15 00
feeliog, justice is ~o artificial virtue depending 00 utility. But R.eid had
little awareness of the conoection between Hillne's ethics aod his
epistemology.
( ScholaJ's have commonly supposed thal this was the t)"pical reaction
l to Hume in the eighteenth as in the nineteenth cenlw-y. Nowadays we
see mOTe cIearly what Hume \Vas getting at when he ta1ked oI foundillg
l a complete s}'stem of the sciences on the science of man 01' the principies
l oI human nature. For m)" part 1 have leaJ'uecl 1n05t abollt this topic
írom H.H.Price snd Kemp Smith. 5 Price showed liS the crucial role oI
e the imagination in Hume's theol'Y oí koowledge. Kemp Smith stl'essed
1.. the continuing iTlnuence, throughout Hllme's philosophy, of Hutche·
son's ethical theor)", in which reason is subordinated lo íeeling. '\'Vhile 1
1..
fiod Kemp Smith's thesis persuasive, 1 think that it does oot pay eoough
,
1.. attention to the differellces between Hume's tbeory oí ethics snd
(
O.D.RAPI-IAEL
llutcheson's. Much of t11e progress beyond Hulchesoll that Hume made
in ethics depends 00 adding the functions of the imagination to those of
focling. The addition is vital to the role of sympathy io ethics; it is
IIccded, again, fol' the stability aud impartialjty oí moral judgement;
(llld it is implied in the formation of artificial virtue. The whole of
llume's constructive philosophy oI human nalure was unperceived by
I\citl and Beattie-and 50 by the later cfities who took lheir Clle from
n.id and Beattie.
1 wont to suggest to you that Dot a11 of Hume's contempornries in
SCOl1and shared this blind spot. Let me begin with part of a lelter senl
1>y John MiUar to David Douglas on lO Augllst 1790 alter the death of
AdulO Smith. Douglas must have ',\'Titten to Millar abollt the manll~
l'Cripts that Aclaro Smith insisted on having destro}'ed and about lhose
lllal he had aUo",ed to survi"c. 011 the latter Millar cornments:
1 am glad to hear that a part of MI'. Smith's wTiLillgS are likely
to see the light-for 1 hope )'OU and your privy couocil lvillllse aH
lhe latitude you can upon that side of lhe question. Of the dís-
courses whjch he intended upon the imitative arts, he read two to
OUT Society at Glasgow, but the third was llot then finishcd. 1 wisil
it may be finished noV\'. Oí all his writings, 1 have lTIost cm"iosity
about the metaphysical \York )'ou mention. 1 shoulcl like to see his
powers oI illustratioll employecl upon lhe true old Humean
philosophy.
J\liIlar's words in the last sentence iLUply that Douglas had seen 1) COI1-
Ilcrlion betweel1 Smith's work and the philosophy of Hume. The)' do
""l IIecessarily i]Upl)' that Douglas would have agreed with Millar in
n'gorcling Hume's philosophy (or the relevant part oí Hume's philo-
sopliy) iJS ltrue', but the)' do al least suggest lhat he wouId not thillk
tlac judgement novel al' bizarreo
The lelter was printed by "V. R.. Scott, in his book Adam Smilh as
,~illtlclll and Professor (1957), pp. 511- 15. Scott \Vas DOt SLU"e ",hether
el he mctaphysical 'York' oI Adam Smith tllnt is referred to could be
idelllincd. In n note on P'515 he said there \Vas no trace of tlie manu-
:-;nil'l so described, hut in an earlier pc:1.rt of the book (p. 115, nole 5) he
S\lg~cSlcd that it might be either an unknown manllscript 01' the work
c'lllillcd 'The Principies which lead and direct Philosophical Enquirie5'
llml wns printecl in Smith's posthul11oUS Essn-ys Oll Philosophical Sllb-
i,'",s. 1 linve no doubt tliat this is \\'hat Dnvid Douglas was lnlking nbout.
'rlw work is in three parts, and the full tille DI lhe first part is 'The
I'rillciplcs which lead and direct PhiJosophicnl Enquiries; illuslrated by
lhe lIistory of Astronomy'. The second and third parts carry the same
lillc cxccpt fol' the final \'Vords: the second deals with the 1Iislor)' of
llllCicllt physics, and the tlJird ,,-¡th the history of ancient logic ancl
( 'The lrile oid Humean philosophy' and Adam Smith
(
metaphysies. The term 'illustrated by' appears in aIl three tilles and is
( pieked up in Johl1 MillarJs phl'sse, '1 should like to see his powers of
( illustration employed . . . '. In faet the lmetaphysical' discllssion, on
Humean lines, occurs onl)" al the beginning of the fiJ"st and longest
( L essay, the 'Hislory of AstronoI11Y', though it is ¡ntended lO be a general
( introduction to the n-ork as a whole. It is the introductory seclions
that David Douglas must have had in rnind when he talked of a Imet8~
( physicol \York' in the spil'it of Hume. 1 shall 5ho1'tly 'lUDte Dile of lhe
( pDssages tlHtt will have led Douglas lo speak Df Hume's philosoph),.
l\feanwhile, hon-ever, 1 shall add somc confirmatory evidence that lhe
(
\York referred to in John i\Jillar's lette.. is Smith's essay on the 'History
( of Astl'onomy'.
The paragraph that 1 ha,-e quoted fmm 1\lill31"S letter is about the
(
manuscripts which Smith had allowed his executors to retain \Vith a
( view to possible publication of any that they thought Cit. Millar urges
( the exeeutors to be liberal and to publish as mueh as they can. He
assumes, (rom what he has been told by Douglas, that this ,vil1 inelude
( three essa)'s on the imitative arts and the metaphysical \"York illustrating
( the Humean philosophy. Earlier in his letter l"lil1ar says, evidentl)' in
response to a l'equest, lhat he will be glad 10 fUl'nisll Dugald Slewart
( wiLh information abont Adam 501ith's 'proIessOl-ial talenls' at Glasgow.
( Now Smith's literal")' executors publisbed most oI the sUl'viving frag-
ments in Essays Ol! PhiLosophictlL SlIhjecls ('795), introduced hy
(
Dllgald Stewares •Account of the Life and vVritiogs of Adalll Smith'.
The aceount ineluded djrect quotation oI eontributions ú"om John
l\1illar about Adaro Smith's performanees as Professor of Logie and then
(
Professor of Moral Philosophy at Glasgow. Smith's own Essays in tlle
\ volume begin with the three on the histol'Y oI astronomy, oí ancient
physics, and of ancient logie and metaphysics. These are followed by an
l
essay, in three part5, on lhe imitative al'ts. Sinee Millar wTites ofthi5 in
( his letter, it is probable (quite apart from the }'eferenee to 'illllstration'
and Hume) that 'the metaphysical work' \Vas also something tllat would
<..
he included in the Essays Ol! PhiLosophicaL SllbjeclS.
l Another piece of evidenee pointiog io the same djreclion is eontained
l in the next fetter that Scolt printed 00 p. 515 of his book. It is froro
Lord Loughhorough (Alexander \'I'edderburn), is probably addressed
l to David Douglas, and is dated I'f. August 1790. The eontents make it
~ almost eertain that th.1s lelter, like that of John l\1illar, is in reply to one
from David Douglas describing the destruetion of most of Srnith's
~
papel's, the survival oIothel"s, and the proposal to publish sorne 01" aH of
\ the latter grOllp. On this matter Loughbol"ough wrote:
The disposilion of his unprinted Works is exactly what 1
\.
expeeted as he told me it \'Vas his determination to destroy the
n.O. RAPHAEL
greater part of them, and He particularly excepted lhe History of
:\st1"onomy and the Treatise on the imitative Arts.
As [ see it, Loughborough is referring to the same t"'O essays as l\lillar,
illl J is no doubt picking up thiogs that David Douglas had said about
Illc slll"viving manuscripts.
'Yell, what is Humean about Adaro 5mith's view oí the history of
sdcnce and philosophy? Smitb fol1ows the dietum of Plato that philo-
sophy begins in wonder, hut he gives this a Humean twist. 'Yonder
¡¡rises ,,"hen the sl1100th course af the imaginatioo is disturhed b)' ao un-
lI:iUal seclllence oí events. It is assllaged when philosophy (meaning
:-eicllce) shows lhe unllsllal event ta be part of 8 s)'stem, a e1l5tomar)'
linier) aud so enahles the imagioation to resume an easy pa5sage. 5mith
t11'~ribes the wOl·k ol the imaginatioll in \Yords thall-ecallt1te doctrine
dflTllme's Treatise:
'Vhen twa objects, however unlike, have afien been observed to
follow eaeh other, and have eonstant1)' presented themsclves to the
senses in that order, the), come to be so connected together in the
faoe)', that tbe idea of the one seems, oí its OWIl accord, to can Ul)
and introduce that oí the other. If the objee'ts are stiU observed to
slIcceed each other as befare, this connection) 01', DS it has been
called) this association of their ideas, becomes stricter and stl"ieter,
and the habit oI the imagination to pass from the eooceptioo of the
one to that oí the other, gro,,"s more and more rivetted and con-
firmed .... \JVheo objects succeed each other in the same train in
which the ideas oí the imagination llave been accustomed to
move, and in which, though not conducted by that chaio of events
presented to the senses, the), have acquiJ'ed a tendene)' to go on of
their own Decord, such objects appear aH closel)' connected "ith
olle another, and the thought glides easny along them, with-
out effort and without interruption .... Therc is no break, no stop,
no gap) DO interval. Tbe ideas excited by so coherent a chain oí
things seern, as it \'Vere, to float through the mind oí theil" own
aecord, witbout obliging it to exert itselr, al' to make all)' effort io
order to pass froro one oí them to the other.
But iI this eustomary coonectioo be interrupted, iI one 01' more
objects appear in an order quite differeot fro01 that to which tIle
imaginarion has beeo accustomed, and for which it is prepared , tbe
contrary oí a11 this happens.... The imaginalíon no longer feels
the usual facility of passing trom tbe event whieh goes befOl'e to
lhat wlúch comes after.... The fancy is stopped and illtert"upted
in tIJat natural movement 01' career, according to 'which it ,,"as
proceeding. Those two events seem to stand at a distanee from
each other; it endeavours to bring them together, but they refuse
(
.8 (The true old Humean philosophy' and Adam Smilh
(
( to unite; aud it feels, ol' imagines it feels, something like a gap 01'
interval bet"vixt lhem. 1t ... endeavours to und out something
( which mar fill up the gap, which, like a bridge, may so far al leasl
( uDite those seemingly distant objects, as to render the passage oC
the lhought bet',-ixt lhem smooth, and natm'al, and eas)'. The
(
supposition of a chain of intermediate, though invisible, events
( which succeed eoch other in D train similar to that in which the
(
imagination has been accustomed to move, and which link to-
getheT those t\Vo disjointed appearances, is the only means by
( which the iJnagination can fill up tbis ¡nterval, is the only bridge
( which, if one mar sor so, can smooth its passage from the one
object to the other. 6
( Smith is drawing Itere on Ilume's account both of causation aud of
( OUT belief in an external v\'orld. He ''\Tites not on1y of conslalll con-
jUDCtiOD but al$O of coherence in our experience. vVhen he describes the
( (iuterruptiou' of custOl"uar)' connecLions and of the 'smooth passage' of
( the imagil1íltion (or 'lhe fanc)" ol' lthe thought'), and when he proceeds
to sa)" that the imagination fiUs u}> the gap by supposing a chain of
(
intermediate though invisible events, he is makillg use of Hume's
doctrine in Trealise J.iv.z, the seclion entitled lor scepticü=m with
regard to lhe senses'. Smith is Dot simply taking over Hume's theorr,
for Hume deal~ wilh ow' belief in the continued existence oí material
( things while Smith talks auout scienlifie lheor),. But Smith is adapting
( Hume's accou111 oI tite imagination from tite one subject to the other.
Sluith th.iuk.s that philosophy 01' science is an enlargemellt of common-
(
sense belief as represenled by Hume. Philosopb)" 'the science oí the
( connecting principies oí nature ... mar be regarded as one oí those arts
which address themselves to the imagination'.7 Of course Hunle him-
(
self sa)'s that systems oI philosophy are also a product oí the imagino-
( tlon, but his desc1'iption oí lhe processes of lhe inl11gination in filling
up gaps comes iolo his account oí ow' o1'dinary belief in an external
(
world, and that is what Adam Smith uses in his account oí scientific
( lheorr·
( 'Yhen 1 first read this section oC Aclaro Smith's (Histo1'yoI Astronolll),'
1 was immediatelj' st1'uck by its Humean character. (At the time 1 ,,"aS
( not aware of John l\lillar's lettel' to Da\rid Douglas.) lt seenlS that
David Douglas had lhe same experience and that his conception of
<-
<..
<..
Hume:s philosophy included lhe role oI the imagination in building up
our beliefs aboltt tlle \\"orld. There can be Hule doubt that Adam Smith
himself appreciated this side of Hume. Althollgh his debt to Hume is
Hot mentloned in the 'History oC Astronol1l),', the phrases n"om the
Trealise are ullnüstakable.
<.. Slllith takes seriollsly his cOIlc1usion that scielltific theory is the \York
<..
<..
( •
ll.tJ.RAPHAEL '9
~ the imogination. Bis history of ~strono.my le.ads .up to a detailed
unt oC lhe tbeory oí Newton. vVlule Suuth wntes In more than Qne
llecO
of the attTactious o[ the Newtonmn .
syslem to t h '"
e Imagll18tlOn, l'
115
l'IlIce
scri]ltion of it verr naturally uses at
.
tunes the
I
anguage o
f b' .
o Jectlve
I
,e k f' . .
Enet. So he ends by recognizing that a \Yor - o ImaglllatlOn can seem to
he lite discovery of u"uth. .
And eveo ,ve, ",hile \Ve have been endeavounDg to represent aU
I'hilosophical systems as mer~ inv~~t~ons oC the ~magination, to
connect together the otherWlse dlSJomted and dlScordant phae-
nomeoa oí oature, have insensibly been dr8wn in, to make use oí
language expressing the connecting principies ofthis o~le, as ir they
were the real ehains which Nature makes use oí to bllld logether
hcr several operations. Can we wender then, that it should have
gained the general and complete approbation oí mankind, a~d
thut it should now be considered, not as an attempt to counect In
the imagination the phaenomena of the Heavens, but as the
g"reatest discovery that ever was made by roan, the.discovery of an
immense chain oí the most important and sublime truths, aH
dosel)' eonnecled logether, b}' ooe capital faet, of the realit)' of
which we have dail)' experienee. 8
Smith seems to be implying bere that it is in foet a mistake, though a
IInlural one, lo think oí Newton's s)'stem 8S lhe discovery oC objective
1 l"ul1J!' nnd to think oí gravity as o 'real chain' that binds operalions in
lI/1tl1l"C. This belief is au 'illusion of the imagination', to use a Humean
1'lil'Ilse lhat Smith borrows in Tile Tileory alll10ral Sent1mellts (1759 ),.
frllllpOsed n little late1' than the 'History oí Astronomy'. The l\.foral
Sf'fIÚmclIls is mucll concerned ",ith the role of t1le in:lOgination in moral
jlltigcment, hut there is one place where Smilb 0150 relates it lo
,·<:ollolllics. This comes at the beginning ofPart IV. Again Smith builds
un n doctrine of Hume, whom he describes, without naming him, as
lltn illgeniolls and agreeable philosopher, ",ho joins the greatest deplh
uf 1hought to tlle grealest elegance of expression, aud possesses the
!-illA"ular ami happy talent of tl'eatíng the abstl"lIsest subjects not onl)'
witiJ tIJe most perfect perspicuity, bUl ,üth tite most lively eloquence' .10
Ifume, he say~, has eXl)lained the beauty oC utility. The owner of u
lI~crul objecl receives aesthetic plensure from jt by being remjnded oí
ils cOllvenience. A spectator receives silnilar pleasw'e by sympathy. 'Ve
filld (lIJe paloces oC the great' beautiful becallse we imagine the ~atisfac­
I t iun wc would get if we owned and used them. 5111ith then adds his own
c:ulltrilmtion, that we often come to set a greater value on the convelli-
~Ilt l1leans thao on the end which they were designed to promote. (The
pOOl' man's son, whoJU heaven in its ange!" has visited with ambition/
~ gocs beyond aclmiration oí palaces lo envy. He labours aIl his life to
( ¡ The lrue old Humean philosophy' and Adam Smith
( autdo his eompetitors, on1y to find in the elld lhat the rich are no
( happier than the pOOl' in the things that really mattel'. IAnd it is well
(- that nature impases 011 us in this manner. It is this deception which
rouses and keeps in continua] motion the industry oí mankind.' The
( individual dces nol reap fol' himself the full benefit of his exel'lions;
there is a benefit lo society llllargc, for the rich 'are led by no invisible
(
hand' to d.istribute much oC thei1" substance among a cirele oí retainers
( and so, ',,"ithaul intending it, ""ithout knowing it, advance lhe ¡nterest
oC the sociel)', ond affol'd means lo the multiplicarian of the species'.lI
(
Smith has an ambivalent attitude to this 'deception' by natlU'e or the
( imagination. On the one hand, he says it is deceptiol1; the ambition oí
( the pOOl' man's son is unforlunale, a visitation of the allger of heaven,
alld is succeeded in the end by the discoverr that power aod riches
( alTord little satisfactioll and are daogerous. 00 the other hand, this
( realization ofthe truth is a lsplenetic philosophy') that comes to us ooly
'in the languor of disease and the weariness of oId age'. In a normal
( healthy state we lel our imag-ination run awa}' wilh liS, and this is just
( as well because the deception is useful to society and mankind. At aoy
l'ate Smilh is clear that it is a deception and that there is an alternative
(
view which is true, though app81'ently less preferable.
( vVould he say quite the same of Newton's scienlific theory? He does
(
imply t1lat \Ve are deceived in thinling the theo1'Y to be a discovel'Y of
truth and not just an 'invenLion' oI the imagination. But wouId he be
l'eady to adcl that it is thel'eEOl'ejalse and that there is J 01' could be J an
( alternative t1leo1'Y which is true? Apparently not, fo1' he puts aH
scientific. theories in the same boat. Are t.llere then no objective truths
(
of aSU'onomy to be discovel'ed, 01' is the position rat11er lhat there aTe
( tl'uths of nature but they cannot be discovered by man beca use he has
to rely on his imagination?
(
In eilher event, why does astronomy differ from economics? For
Adam 801ith, economic theory is as much a part of lphilosophy' (01'
science) as is astronolll)'l and so anytheo1'etical construction in economics
too must be a product of the imagination. Perhaps he thinks thot the
( economic trulIl which we discovel' in illness 01" oId age is nol a theo-
(. retical construction (despite his calling iL a lsplenetic philosophy'), but
is rather a dalul11 of e:Xl>erience. lIso, his claim 15 dubious. Even in this
bicentennial year of )976 we do not have to accepl as holy wl'it every·
th.ing that Adaro SlUith said on economics-especially if it is not con-
tained v\'Íthin the 110ly book, The Weallh of Naliolls. It seems to me
romantic fiction to say that the successful tycoon who began in poverty
obtains no real addition to happiness from his riches and power) 01' that
(lO use Adam Srnitb's own words): 'In ease oí body and peace of mind,
aH t11e differenl ranks of life are nearly upon a level, and t11e beggar,
D.D.RAPHAEL 51
who suns himselI by the side of the highway, possesses that security
which kings are fighting for.'12
Ha", does Smith's view oC Newtonian astronomy compare wirh
Hume's view oC commonsense belieE in an external w01'ld? Smith l"l,ites
oC sn invention oI the imagination , Hume oC a fiction. Smjlh sa}'s, 01'
implies, that we are místaken to take Newton's 1heor) as a slatement of
truth. \Vould Hume say 1his oC belicE in a continuing e~"tE:rna] w01'ld?
1t is hard lo know. Hume first tens us it is lin vain l tú ílsk whethel" there
he bod)' 01' Dot, since '\Ye must take [it] for granted in all our reason-
ings'. Professor Price has considered, in J-Jume's Theor)" of ¡}le EIterllal
¡fiorld, hol" \Ye should interpret this statemenL Are l"e to understand
'in vain' as 'meaningless" 1he idea being that we canuot say the pro-
position IBody cxists' is either true 01' Ialse, although \Ye must aet as if
it l"ere h'ue? Or does Hume mean that the question is pointless because
the answer to it has to be positive, that is, that the proposition IBody
e>..;'sts' is undoubtedly true? Yet there is a passage later in this section oC
the Treatúe JJ where Hume says fil'mly tbat the imagination's fiction
oE the continued existence of material objects is lreally false'.
There i5 one important difference between Hume's view of the
problem of body snd Adam Smith's vie\\" oE Newtonian mechanics.
Smith has endeavoured to answel' the Humean question , "Vhal causes
induce us to believe in the existence of gravity?' Smith \yould nOl, ho\V-
everJ have added: 'But 'tis in vain lo ask, '\llelher there be gravity Ol'
nol? That i5 a paiot which we must take COl' granted in aIl our reason-
ings.' Earlier theories of astronomy did not include a belief in gravltYi
and ji anyone had suggested to Smilh that s laler theory might abandon
Ne\yton's concept of gravity and explain the observed faets in a diffe1'ent
wa)', Smith would have agreed lhal this ,yas quite possible. So although
he is following Hume in 1he type oI explanation that he gives J there is
an important difference in their concll.1sions. In Smith's time it was a
bold thing to say that Newton's mechanics \Vas an 'invention oC the
imagioation' 1'atbe1' than a discovel'Y oE truth , but it \Vas far less hold
lhan Hume's theory that belieE in 8 continuing material world is dile to
lfietion' by the imagination. Since past systems of astronomy had done
\,.-jthout gravity, Olle could conceive that futm'e s)'stems might dispense
with it. There is no anslogue in a history oE clifferent systems of order-
ing common experience. The belief in contilluing material bodies has
not beeo preceded by one 01" more dilTerent wa)'s of interpreting sense
experience , in consequence oI which we could conceive of )'et aoother
interpretation becoming standard at sorne futU)'e time. There have of
course been philosophies that have denied the existence oí a material
world aod have giveo an alternative explanation of e"..p erience. We can
ask of them, as we can ask of scientific theories, whether the)r should be
(
(The true old ¡-fumean philosophy' and Adam Smith
(
( described sirnply as linventiolls of tIte imagination' ar whether they can
properly aim al the discovery of truth. vVe cannOl, however, say that
( the interpretation of ex])erience in tenns of an externa} world comes
( naturally to modero mao but did not conle llaturally lo the luen of
sorne other culture in the past and might Dat do so to the roen oí the
(
future.
( Perhaps tlús is too sweeping. Primitive animists and early s),stems of
(
law attribute a kind of personality to phenomena that modero man treat5
as material. 1t is possible lo suppose that sorne earIy human cultures had
( no eODception of inanimate objects and interpreted aU their experience
( in personalist terms. 1t 1S a150 possible to suppose that a human eu.1tlU·e
01 tlle futuTe may obliterate the distinction between the aninlate aud
( tbe material by interpreting aH experienee wit.hin a fralne\York of
( materialismo Some philosophers take happily enough to a thesis that
identifies tile mind witli the brain, aud quite a number oí people ",ha
( are uneontaminated by philosophy but imbued with natural science
( find it hard nowadays to distinguish mind and brain. One can envisage
such an attitude becoming standard at somB futw'e time. Different ways
(
of interpreting experience under the categories oí mind and lnatter,
( mind aod body, spaee and time, are not eonfineu to philosophy but ca11
( be traced in the Ianguage of different cultw·es. For example, Biblical
Hebrew has no \Yord for (matter', The term for a thing is tlle same as
( the term for a n-ord aod is derived froIn the verb 'to speak'. Presurnably
( the ancient Hebrews formed the eoncept of a thing from the idea of
what 'was denoted by a \Vord. So there have been cultw'es that did not
(
use the moderll eoncept of matter, and thel'e might be a culture that
( ,,,'ould not use the present coneept oí mind.
AH this, ho"vever, is not relevant to Hume's theor)', Hume says that
(
he is answering the question, lW1mt causes induce us to believe in the
( existence of body?' (meaning material things), but he does not intend
to contrast a belief in the existence of material things with a belief in
the existence of anil11ated beings. His question, and his answer to it,
could apply just as weU to a societ)' oí universal animists who believed
that everything in the ,,"orld was animate. If they fouod themselves in
'iVonderIand, the), wouId llot be surprised to see croquet being pIa),ed
with animals as implements (",hat elsc could one use?) but they would
be as llluch astonished as Alice at the sight of the Cheshire ca1's grin
without the cal. IIume's problem is to accollot for our belief that what
\Ve perceive continues to exist beyond our transient pereeptions. The
probleln is not afTected br lhe question whether these objects oí percep-
tion are material substances Ol" something else. Hume io fact denies
that they can be material substances in Locke's sense of that term and
argues fol' a neutral monist theory which treats both mind and malter
l
(
D.D.RAPHAEL 55
as having the sanIe sort of component eleInents. It makes no difference
whether \Ve think. that the roan on the Clapham omnibus believes this
theor)', 01' Locke's, or Berkeley's, or the universal animis1's, or some-
thing else. In any event he believes that the objects of perception persist
beyond his perccption ~f them, and it is to l!lis belief that Hume
addresses himself.
Hume dlstingtrishes the comLnonsense belief in the existence of body
from phiIosophicaI theories about lhe nature of bod)'. He says that bOlh
are products oí the imagination but oí different 'principIes' o[ that
omnieompetent capacity. The pel'ipatetic theories of matter, with their
talk of substantial f01'1ns, oecult qualities, s),lllpathies and nntipathies,
and abhon'ence of a vacuum, ",ere 'guided b), ever)' trivial propensity
of the imagination', l¡ke the fables of poets and the fallies of child.ren.
'Ve must dlstinguish tile 'changeable, weak, and irregular' princil)les of
the imagination that produce such ideas f1'om 'the principies which are
permanent, irresistabJe, and univeTsal',14 TIte commonsense belief in
continuing objects of perception is due to these, and so is itself perrl1fln-
ent, ilTesistible, and universal. Tite theories of ancient philosophy,
Hume continues, are nol founded 011 these l)rinciples. 'The U10clern
philosophy', with its distinetion between pereeptions and external
things, lpretends ... to arise only from the solid, permanent, and COll-
sistent principIes oí tlle imagination',lS but Hlllue takes hill1Self to be
refuting that c1aim in his criticism of the tlteorr. He CflU suppose t:hat
he is doing so because he now describes the pennanent ])rineiples of tlle
imagination as Isolid' and Iconsisten1', so tltat they cannot support a
theory which he shows lo be inconsistent and resting on ",cak argullleut.
Is the 'vulgar' belief in body any better off in litis respect? Unlike thc
theories oí philosophy, whether ancient or modern, it is held univers-
aUy and irresistibly. But is it consistent and based on a solid foundatioll?
The imagination produces iL in arder to maintain coherence amollg our
perceptions, but acconling to Hume there is inconsistency within tite
state oí mind of the ¡"lugar'. Tite)' IS1fppose their pel'ce))lions to be t hei!"
onl)' objects, and at the same time believc lile continu'd existellce of
matter'. This is inconsistent because the suppo~ition that OUl" percep-
tioos are ou!' 0111y objects implies that t\\'o perceptions separaled by aH
interruptiol1 cannot be one persisling object. Hence the belief musL be
assigned to ~he il11agination amI Ilot to reason. J15 Aere Hume seellls to
think that ·the imagination can aeco11uTIodate inconsisteneYl as rensOIl
cannat. lf so, he has no business to suy that the Illodern philosophy cun-
not be the product of lhe sume operutions of the imagination because
it is not Iconsistent' and Isolid'. In the paragraph ",here he describes
the inconsistency of the 'vulgar' conception, HUIne goes on to claim
that his examination discloses la consistent srstem' in "ylJieh each part

(
51 1 The trile old J-]umean phlwsophy' and Adam Smith
(
lis supported by the strongest proofs'.11 Tha 'system ' oC which he speaks
(
here, and at the beginning of the paragraph, is his own s)"slem oí
( philosopllY, nol 1he nOliaos of the 'vulgar'. He is entided to claim that
his philosophieal theory is superior to 'the modero philosophr' beca use
(
it is consistent and solidly based, the superioritJ' being judged by
( criteria of reason, as is proper for the Dppraisal of philosophical theories.
But ir Dile of the differences heh,,'een imaginalion and reason ¡s that the
(
imagination CDn ignore these crileria, then Hume is nol entitled to
( dispute the sUPl)Osed claim cf the modero philosophy lo arisf, like the
( I belieI oí the vulgar, fram the 'pennanent J pl'inciples of the imagination.
Hume's attribution of eonsisteney to his favoured type oC imagina-
( lion is not, ho"veverJ a gl'Dl1ndless abelTalion. Even the 'kind of imagina-
( lion employed h)' poets and novelists llorrnnlly maintains a eonsisteney
within its own netitious ereations. Walt ,i\'hitman was deliberately Ol1t-
( rnglng the eustomary norms even of poetl"Y when he said
( Do J contradict m}'self?
Very we]] then J contl'adict rnyself.
(
Consistency is a negative forro oE coherence, and when I-Il1me Js
( 'permanent principIes' of the imagin8lion pursue coherence among
perceptions they follow a kind of logic. Jt is not surprising, thel'efore,
lhal Hume should al times write of 'the imagination 01' l1nderstand-
ing 'lB when he wants to distinguish this kind of imagination fTom the
more flighty kind (even though at olher limes he conu'asts imagination
with understanding when he equates understanding with 'reason'J9).
The most important funclion of lhe imaginaliol1 , as depicted in Hume's
accouot, is not lo form mental images (which is relatively infrequent
anyway) but to provide a constructionnl :framework, so to speak , into
which impl'essions of sense are fiued as building blocks. Hume talks as
( iI the maio job of the imagination were to fill up the gaps between
(
impressions with ideas that are images oC impressions; but it seems to
me lhat ir we are looking fol' au aCCllrate phenomenological description,
the gaps are commonly leít vacant: the important supplement to im-
pressions of sense is their synthesis J the construction oí a framework
<..
into which they are fitted. If we wish to describe thi5 framework in
\. terms of a Humean empiricisID J \'Ve should do so, Iollowing Professor
<.. Price's lead, by saying t11at it is the postulation of a set of series of
resembljllg sensibilia.
Jt seems reasonable enough to attribute th.is to the imagination, fol'
\ it is the kind of synthetie function performed by the imagination in
ereating ficuoos proper. Hume's 'permaneot principles' oí the irnagina-
tiOD differ {roro lhe imagination of fiction in confining the synthetic
\. framework so as to accorn.modate sense impressions. Tbe imagination oE
fietion is free from aoy sllch limitation. The former kind of imagination
\.
(
(
T
D.D.RAPHAEL 55
is universal and irresistible becal1se it conforlns to sense impressioDs
whic11, taken by and large, are closely similar fol' most persons aud
which are themselves irresistible 01' independent of our will. And U we
ask ourselves wh)' sense hnpression5 llave these charBcteristics J we are
naturally inc1iDed to sup]>ose it i5 beca use tl1ey are caused by external
objects. An imaginative s}'nthesis that is anchored to sense impressions
is universal and in'esistible because the sense illlpressions themselves
are universal and irresisrible. A fictional 5),nthesi5 mar be equally
eoherent, but it i5 fiction, not faet, because it is uninhibited by that
universal and irresistible e)..lJerienee which we take to be objective facL
Hl1me's method of distinguishing the stable imagination oC belief
from the more free imagination oC fantasy antl art is helpful bl1t does
not go far enough. He assilllllates them too closely in sayiug- th8t both
]lroduee fiction. lt is typical of Hume to be so cal'ried away by an
important discover)' as ro exaggerate its consequenees pOllr épalel' le
rnll·onalisle.
Adam Smith \Vas a more cautious character) who had no w1sh to
shock anybody. In saying that scientists have imagined inventions he
does Dot say they have inyented science fictioll-or an)r other sort of
fiction. Hut he does contrast an invenlion by the imagination with a
discovery of U'ulh J and so he implies that scientifie theory cannot be
true. The constructioDS of scientific tbeory are certainly closel' to the
constructions of perceptual belief than to those of fiction, fol' they too
are intended to accornmodate and render coherent the data of experi-
ence. But unlike the belieI in persistent objects oI ])el"ception, tbey are
not permanent, universal, and irresistible. One theory is sl1cceeded by
another, and today we should be more l'eady than AdaID Smith to
think that the replaeement of the ctUTently favoured theory DI plJYsics
01' astronomy is not just possible but probable. The replacement of one
theol'Y by another is not always in order to accommodate new empirical
Iacts. The new faets could often be accommodated wilhin a revised, but
more complieated, version of the old theory. The new theory may be
preferred because it is simpler 01' because it can be connected more
directly witb the theory of a related braoch of science. If so, the criteria
for preference are quasi-Iogical aDd aesthetic, like tbe Cl'iteria that
shape the course of the imaginatioD io Hume)s tbeory of the externaJ
w01·ld. Is it then proper to claim that the preIerred theory is more true
than its rival? In these days of relativity theory, physics itself seems to
cast doubt on aDY idea of strictly objective o'uths in natW'e inJependent
oí observers at diIferent points of space and time. Adaro SmithJs view oí
.oience .ppears more perceptive today than it will have done in the
eighteenth century.
1 have said that the criteria for preferring one scientif-ic theory to
(
The lrue oid ¡-fumealt philosophy' and Adam Smith
''1 ..
1 D.D.RAPHAEL
(
( another may be quasi-logical aud aesthetic, which mesns that scientific
theory has somethiog in eommon with works of arto The similarity
(
ineludes a measure of freedom in Lhe construction of schemata. Science
( is less free than srt because it has to accommodate itseU to empirieal
faets, but it is more free than perceptual belief because the synthesis
(
that it adopts is not irresistible. The rensan rOl' this is tbat the gaps
( bet,,""een empirical data in the postulated series of sensibilia are vastl y
( greater in scientific synthesis tllao in perceptual synthesis. In percep-
tian, although the eXIJerienced data are fragmentar)', there are enough
( elements of the various series to bring the synthetic structure lo mincl
( without eITort and i..nevitably. In science this is Dot so, and the irnagina-
tion has to cast 8rauud fol' analogies aud underl)'ing resemblances;
(
~frort snd initiative are needed to think oí a synthesis lhat will do the
( jobo
A clear example to iUustrate this is evolutionary theo1'Y in biology.
(
Actually observable instances of change in a species are rOO'e, and so the
( similarities between diITerent species do not readi]}' suggest the possi-
( bUity oí change from one species to another. The gaps in the series of
events postulated by evolulion are enormous, and mQst of the data of
( COmIDOll experience suggest instead. that speeies are unehanging and so
( "'ere lspeeial ereations'. In ",orJdng out an evolutionary hJ1JOthesis,
Darwin's imaginatiou was stimulated both by unusual evidence and by
tIte analogy of l\1althus's theory about human population. Even ",hen
Darwin had produced a conYillcing theory oí natm·al selection to
explain why certain varieties of a species sLU'vi,ed, the gaps in the
postulated series of events \Yere still "vide enough to leave uncerteinty
(aod so room for alternative hypotheses) about the process of genetie
mutation. 1\oothel' clear example is provided, as Adam Smith sa,,", by
the history of astTonomy. Each of the theories lJOstl1lntes a system in
which tbe netuallJ' observnble phenomena form only a tiny part of all
that IVould be observable by an omnipereipient being. The gaps are so
great that the observed phenomenn can be accommodated by several
(
theories of very different eharaeter. The same thiog holds good of
present-day theories in nstrophysics about blaek holes, antimatter, anu
other novel entilies.
Peop]e familiar with scientifie work often soy that it needs imagilla-
tion, and imply that in this respect jt resembles arto 'Ve cammonly
( think DI tIJe imag-ination as free (unlike sense-perception and deductive
reasoDing) 8nd as requiring initialive. There is no surpl·ise in the news
that science is like this. The surprise is Hume's news that perceptual
( belief in,olves imagination, despitc coming upon us irresistibly and
without errort on om' parto Hume's account is enlightenillg not on]y for
showing liS the re]ation between actual experience and the persisting
37
world we take ourselves to perceive, bot also for bringil1g out a leading
feature of imaginative activity, the disposition to fitl gaps in a scheron,
a featw'e that can be detected in perceptnal belieí and also, as Adam
Slnith saw, in science. Kant too was to ""rite of tIJe work of the
imagination in perception and was lo ell1phasize ¡ts charaeter as syn-
thesis. vVe should not simply say that Hume anticipatcd Kant. Each of
-them has drawll etteotion to d.ifferent aspects of the imaginatioll itl
contributing to our perceptioll oI the externa] world.
Hume's philosopIty innueneed Adam Smith even luore deeply in
ethics, but 1 suppose that tbis is commooljT understood, in general out-
line at lcast. The innuence here "'as not dil'ect, so as to make Smith a
follower oI Hume, except ln relatively minol' 11'1atter5. Inslead it
stimulated Smith to criticism and to the producLioll of alternative vicws
that surm.ounted the faults he fonnd in Hume. 80th Hume and Smith
agaill had much to say that is enlightening about the work of t]¡e
imagination in moral jl1dgement, and on t]¡at particular topie Smith
was, 1 think, even more perceptiye than Hume. But all tltis is only
margioally relevant to my sobjeet today.
In speaking oí 'the true old Humean philosophy' 1 have confined mr-
seU to certain seclÍons oí the Treatise, and this ma)' seem perverse in
the light oí Hume's pLU·ported reJludiation of that \York in 10ler life.
There al'C three things that 1 \VouId say in justiricalion. Fil'st, Adam
Smith was illfiucnced far more by the Trcatúe than by the EJlquirics,
both in his theory of scienee and tI11·011ghollt his theory of ethics. On
theoreticaL questiolls oI philosophy the young Adam Smith was almost
as much enraptured by parts of the Trealise as he was by tite Stoics 011
issues of practical doctrine. ecoodly, only the Trealise gives a detailed
explonation of Hume's theory oí our beJíef in n conLinuing external
world. Ancl finally, this bicentennial conference is a pl'oper occasion fol'
me to repeat what r have said elsewhere, that in my juelgement lIume's
Treatise of Human lVature is the greatest \York of philosophy written
in the English language.
l. E. C. Mossner TlIe Lije ofD"l1id Hume (1954) ch. 10, especiall)' pp. 151-2;
also E. C. T\'lossncr 'The Continental I\eception oC I-lUIIlC'S T"Clffi!I', 1739-
1741' .NIil1d, N.S. hi (1947).
2. Diary ftl1d Leltel"S of i\1"dnme D'.Arblny, ed. Austin Dobson (190.~-5) i.
398-g·
3· Letler lo 'Villiam Strahan, dnled 9 i\'o\'cmber 1776.
4· Thomas Reid Im/uilY iulo tI,e HU1nntl .Mil1d (1764) ch. 1, §5.
5· H. H. Price Jiume's Theory oflhe Exte,.,tnl ""orld (1940); Nonnnn Kcmp
Smilh The Philosop1ty of D(fl·id Hume (1941), following upon his seminal
nrlicJes 'The Nnlurnlislll oC Hume' JVfilld, N.S. xiv (1905).
(
'The lrue old Humean philosophy' and Adam Smith 'T. DUNCAN FOR.BES 59
(
6. 'History of Astronomy', n, §§7-8.
( 7· §13·
8. IV, §76.
( 9· Hume Trcalise, p. 267; er. ll, 200, and 'illnsion of the faney', pp. 314.
360: Smilh ThcOI:r of Moral SClltimcllls (hereafter TMS), ed. D. D.
(' naphael and A. L. Macf-ie (Oxfonl: Clarcndon Press 1976), Ill. 2.4i cL Hume's Science oi Politics
l-
e 10.
1. iji. 2.!:!: 11. i. 5.11, 1\'.1.9.
TjYI S, IV. 1.2. TOWA RDS THE END of his contribl.1tion to the volulI1e of essays pre-
( 11. T~11S,I\'.1.8-10.
12. TjWS, 1\'. 1.10.
sented to E. C.l\10ssnel',1 Professor Jessop says tllat a p1'econdition DI
( Trentisc, p. 209. sOllnd exegesis oI Hume is to study him widely, and otller writers have
Trcatisc, pp. 224-5. sll'Pssed the faet that a Hume eagcd in the English empirical tradition
\. TrellriSt~: p. 226. is nn anaemic and attenuated Hume. 1\0 less attenuated aud anaemic]
Treatisc, p. 209. and il1deed seriously distorted, is a political Hume studied exclusively
(
Trcalise, p. 21 Q.
in the light of English politics and the English political tradítion: one
( 'The imagination ol' understanding, c..ll il whieh you pIcase', ibid., p.
440; 'lile unclerstanding ol' imaginaLion', p. 10+ resnlt has beeo the applicatioo to him ofthe uohelpfullabel 'Tar)", the
( In two c10sely similar footnoles (pp. 117-18 and p. 371), Hume dis- mas! conspicuous outward sign of the Tefusal to take seriously Hume's
tinguishes a wider and a narrower sense of 'imagination'; the narrower claim to be a philosopher above party. The "iew of Hume's philosophy
(
sense is contl'asted with 'reasan' in the first of these notes, with 'the as essentiallr criLical, negative and destructive which held sway for so
( understanding' in the second.
long, cast its shadow a]so over the interpretation of hi5 politieal thought.
( A5 Vlachos said in one oí the ear1iest attempts to study Hume's politics
\,
comprehensively: it is not an exaggeration to sa)' lhat nowadays (1955)
( Hume is known almost exclusivel)', meaning, oí course] as a political
\
( I theorist] for his critique of cont1'act theorr. 2 This eould easily be
( i
I
regarded as (anti-VVhig' and thereIore 'Torr'. And 1 sllppose tlie
common view still is tllat Hume, a philosophical revolntionar)', was
( timid aud conservative, even reactionary, in his politics.
\ 1 would argue that Hume's science of:rolitics, studied in its full extent
(
and in its historieal circumstances, was constNletive, forward-Iooking,
( <l progI'arnme of modernization, an educatioll fol' backw81'd-looking

(, meno J use these terms neutrally. 1 am tl')ing to see tIte thing as Hume
saw it] and of course 1 am having to leave ont a very great deal, Hume's
\. historiography, for instance, and rnuch elsc.
The obvious starting place fol' a stud y of l-T mne's seienee of politics
might seero to be the famous essay vvüh tIle challenging tide: Tlzat
(
Poh'tics may be reduced to a Science. Thi5 essay, however, makes large
<. claims on a eomparatively narrow Eront whieh are notoriously nol very
impressively backed up by its contents] and puts fonvard a sort of
<- political geometry that was neither typical of nor seminal for Scottish
( eighteenth-century social and politica] theory. Pf'rhapsit is most fitting]y
e interpreted, in the light oí H ume's thought as a whole, as an example
ofpolilical moderation in actian, the appIication oI scientific detachment
( 'lo party politic5 in the eontext of the hounding oI VValpole, the sting, 01'
balm, of the essay being in its tail.
If one is to properIy appreciate and understand H ume's seience of
(,

\.
(
() I-Iume's Sciellce of Polilics
(
politics, one must take one's bearings on the definition olIered in the
( Introduclion to the Trealise: tpolitics consider meo as united in societ)·
( and dependent on each other'. This is broad enough to take one right
(
across all Ilume's writings froro the Treatise to the HútorYJ a perilous
journey, which philosophers, as such, are not called on to face. The)"
( can confine tbemselves to the Treatise and the Enquiries, Ol' even just
( the former, and qua.rrel over meanings and interpretations without
having lo use this controversial material to interpret other aspects of
( Hume's thought. Tbe trouble is that those who do have to go beyond
the Treatise and El/quiries often proceed with a confidence in their
porlmanteau abridgements of tite philosoph)' expounded in those
( works that scarcely seems justified to anyone wha listens seriously and
( intensively to the debates of lhe professioual philosopbers as to ho',
they are to be interpreted. Those ",ho are not professional philosopbers J
(
the 'rabble without doors lJ apparently do Hol get the impression that 'a11
goes not well within'. Ir the)' elid, they might be more strongl), templed
( to try other routes im·olving wider study Rlld using 'philosophy' in its
much more extended eighteenth-century sense. J
( These otber, more historical rautes haye their own difficulties and
( eomplexities, however. "Vllat is nowau.ays called the Seottish En-
lightenment, [or instance, is by no means such a homogeneous affair
as the ualúc, and the inlroductory literatmoe, might suggest, norJ in
somc important respects, is Hume respresentative oí it; in socia.l
science, particularly, he is neit1Jer as representativc, nor was he such a
seminal illfiuence as lIis friend Adam Smith. To make this point
( ( properly calls fol' claborate enquiry. In general, onc can say that Smith
aimed at a complcte 50cial scicnce, oí \Vhich The rVeaLLh o/l\'ations is
~
one part onl)' and Thc Theo,y of Moral Senlimenls another, while his
\ projected \York on jurisprudence and government never saw the light
( of day, although there is enough e,~idellce to give one some idea of \Vhat
it would have been like, whereas Hume does not see1n to have felt such
a compeUing need 'to be at home in the n'orld \\'hen 1 kno\\' it'J so that
one can see wlIr it \Vas Smith, 110t Hume, who for Jol1n ~1illar was tite
(Newton' of lhe histOl)~ oí civil soclety. Smith aimed at a science that
(
would eX)lain social change, lhe progress of societYJ in terms of human
drives and l}ropensities familiar to every one, and what was later called
tite la\\' oí heterogeneilY of ends 01' unilltended consequellces, bridging
the gap between the rationality and complexity o[ the re::lllt, that is,
l civilizatiol1, aud-u one removed prO"identia! agency-the puny and
<. llot very rational means, llamely, the mainly self-interested purposes
and objecli,'es of individuals. Te bring out the difTerence between
Hume aud the ",ider objectives oí Smith in the science of politics J one
ma)' employ a diStillctioll between 10000ting change and comprehending
..
,,
DUNCAN FORBES 4'
it. Smith was not content simply to describe the progress of society in
Europe-commerce and manufactures giving rise to liberty and the
rule oflaw-as he said Hume had been the first to do.
Smith agreed wüh Hume that tite development of liberty was the
result of historical cireumstances peculiar to Europe. He agreed tltat it
was n European J not ao exclusively Ellglish phenomenon, because the
representative 01' parliamentary institutions ahsent in the absolute
monarchies \Vere Dot the be-aIl and end-aH of liberty; that was some-
thing more fundamental, nnmelYJ the independence ano security of
individuals gual'anteed by the rule of law, nnd that, for oH practical
ptrrposes, was fOUlld in the European l11onarchies. This renects the
Europocentric outlook of Hume's science of politics: the framework of
his thinking on government, liberty, political civilization generally,
being Europe, not just England. And this is one aspect of his 'scepticnl'
'Vhiggism, a "'lliggislD that appeared dubious to contemperaries be-
cause the science of politics involved \Vas iconoclasticJ destructive of
favourite 'Vbig idols and prejudices such as the ullbridgeable gulf be-
twecn English freedom and French slayel'Y. In Hume onc finds D.
comparative study oí types of government that brings out the serious
ingrained disad,·antages, as ",eH as tbe advantages J of the (matchless'
British constitution, alld a theory or political obligation tllat has a
legitimate place for the absolute monarch)' of France, as Locke's has
not, anO. which reduces Locke's theorr of consent to a parochial
absurdity. Hume's idea of poliLical civilization included what he called
the (civilized monarchies' of Europe. Thel'e was DO qualitative ·difTer-
ence bet\'reen them aud the British form of government, as there \Vas
for those who, in Hume's eye~, excessi"el)' ndmired tite latter: an
attitude which rendered difficult, if llot impossible, the sort oC compara-
tive study o[ the governments of Europe tl1at is to he Iound in Hume's
Essays. Thus, among other thing-s, HUlUE"S "ien' of liberty as an
achievement of modern Em'opean eivilization J a perspective in which,
as in Sir James Steuart's PrillCl}J/CS o/ Politú;al EcollomYJ the Reyolu-
tion did oot mean 1688, but the transitioll from a feudal/ militarr to a
cornmercial ELU·OpeJ "hich n'a:: a surer guarantee of liberty than any
revolution 01" particular trpe of government. Such a view oC liberly
made nonsense of orthodox \Vhig historiogTaphy ancl broke down the
insular prejudice that blockeu the road lO a science oC comparativc
politics.
A 'iVhiggism 01' establishment philosoph), that involved such a.
slaughter of hol)" cows must have seemed equivalent to TOl"yisl11 or
worse in the eyes of orthodox 'Vhigs J but it was the result of the same
attitude oC detBched and impartíal observation that one finds in Smith.
But Smith widened the horizoll of the science of politics stiJl Curther,
( .flume's Sdence of PolillL'S
( realizable in modern Britain, may be seen as an example of tbe nostalgia
in that fol' him, lhe proh'l'ess oí COmInerce and libert)" in Em'ope was nn
( example of and) in sorne important l'espectsJ nn exce))tion to a general
principIe 01' law of social evolutioD as sucll. Hume was not a (philo-
(
sophical' historian in th8t widcl" seose.
( exporto Obeying the law oC change has nothing to do with the idea oí
1 ITA \"n SAID th8t the Scoltish Enlightenment is a complex affair, and
(
generalizntion abant it is liable LO be dangel'ons. Perhaps as a single peg
( 011 which lo hallg t11e interpretation oí its social and political t11eoI'Y,
( Qlle may usefully emplo), Burke's maxim: we mllsl all obey the great
law of change. There were speeial circumstances in eighteenth~centul'Y
Scotland lhal brought lhe fael oí change home lO men's minds in
( speeially compeHing W8YSJ and furthel"J brought home to their minds
the need for change and the rale oI those who are unwilling al' unable
lo adapt to change. This is a recurring theme in the 'Vaverley novels,
( where Scott shon's 115 a whole gallery oC figures who in lheir varjous
",a)'s, tragic or cornic, are lert in ps)'chologieal rigidity 00 the sandhanks
( of lime. I'Ve must aH obey the great law oí change' implies Dot merely
( the detached observation that for Smilh is the task oí the philo30pher,
(
par excellenee: it is a recommencIation and a warning, it implies resisl-
ance and defence mechanisms and the consequent need for programme,
( propaganda aud rhetodc. Smith, it is worth remembering, had begun
I
( I his career as aD expert in the science oí rhetoric, aud tbe Wealth of
lVa/ions is propaganda as wen as science: tbe science is ipso jaclo pro-
(
gramme and propaganda. Likewise, stud}'ing Hume ,"videly surely
( invol,es examining his philosophy in tlle light oC the scjence oí rhetoric
(
\ and its history.
Be that as it ma)', whatever else Hume's scepticism may mean, it
( I do es not mean lack oí political })rogramme aud eommitment. Obeying
the law oí change meant moderniziog, and Hume's science of politics
seen in the light of lhe mood and needs and opporlunities and challenges
( oC eighteenth-centw·)' Scollnnd was essentially a programme oí modern-
ization. Even the promotion of moderation in partr politics, usually
regarclecl as Hume's main political objective J can be viewed in the light
of the need fol' modernization: the party polities Hume objeeted to were
not party politics as sueh- because in a mixed government such as the
British, a division of paTties was inevitable, given human nature and
that type of government-but the backward-looking party polities oí
vVhigs aud Tories based on the dynastie question. Bis aim was to
modernize the political thinking of a post-revolutionary establishment,
( to bri ng j t IIp-to-date.
( Hume's republicanism-and Rousseau wrote in his Confessions of
Hume's Idme repuhltcaine'-thollgh purely academie, beeause the
republiean form oí government, although ideal1y tlle best, was un-
DUNCAN FORDes
43
that necessarily accompanies realization of tbe need to obey the great
law oC change sud is the otber side of that medal. Not for nothing did
sentimental nostalgia become a characteristic Scottisb product aud
progress, which Ilone oC the leading Scotlish social theorists subscribed
to, however ardently they believed in limprovement' aud the need for
limprovement', hut 00 the contrar)' suggests a !Jarsl. necessit)' lo adapt
m,ore al' less painfuHy to sometlJing ohjectiye olld coldly observed.
Obedience to the great law oí ehange \Vas Hume's teaching for oot onl)'
Tories, but VVhigs also, whose fixation on ] 688 aod 17]4, the estoblish-
ing oC the establishment, ""as backward-Iooking aod inhibiting; tbeir
politica! theories were both out-of-date, not only divine right and
passive obedience, but also the tfashionable system' of contractJ the
Jatter because among other things it induced a trigger-happiness about
the right oIresistance, which post-]688 was inept and tmcallcd fol'.
Hume's object was to get men, both ';Vhigs and Todes, 'lo llU"n round
snd face the present and the future; a new secular, scientific age of
economic challenge ond opportunit)' especially. Seen in this context, his
definitioo J alread)' quotedJ oí the science oI politics has a ring oí
modernity abaut it, society being seen as a ralionally com})rehensible
s),stem oí mutual needs and servicesJ HegePs Sys/em der Betlür.fnisse,
110t an arena for aggressive display and contention over outmoded
dynastic and religious loyalties and dogmas.
It sounds moderno But one has lo remember that the faet of men
united in saciety and dependent 011 each other \Vas the official aud J so
they c1aimed, empirieal and, so they also claimed, classical starting
point of lhe 'modern' sellool of Natural Law, Grotius, Pufendorf and
tl1eir nurnerous followers, including Huteheson. Failure to oppreeiate
this, which may be due to tangling too exclusively with Hobbes and
Loeke-the sort of selectivity and looking down the wrong end oí tbe
telescope that so seriously distorts the histol")' of ideas- bas I.d to a
great deal of rnisunderstanding and confusioo, witb res}leet to bath
Smith and Hume. For example, one finds admirers oí Smith, anxious 'lo
make out that the ground of th. teacbing of The Wealth of Na/ions is
empirical, that bis economic doctrines were not deduced a priori froro
sorne natural system oI liberty renecting the cosmic optimism oí
fashionable eighteenth-eentury Deism, and so forth J chargiog in to
reseue him froro Natural Law, as thaugh Newtonian empil'icism and
Natural Law were totally incompatible. This sort of übridgement to the
point oí distortion of Natura! L6W is what Jies behind the description oí
Hume's scienee oí politics as involving the desttuetion of the 'meta-
physical'J ~ationalistic' and tindividualistic' foundations oí Natural
(
Hume's Science of Politics
(
Law. Fr01n Hume's point DI view, what bad happened was that the oId
foundations IVere becomiug less tenable and secure in an increasingly
( secular age; the opinion on which all government rests had moved and
was moving in a secular directian (and tbis after all was the constant
cry of the c1ergy, inc1nding notable thinkers like Berkeley), ,,-hile the
( foundatioDs DI Natw'al Law, in spite oí the great shm" oí experimental
( method, of startiog íram the faet oí human nature as given lo observa-
lioD, were, in the rUlal analysis, theologieal, aud fol' Hume, al auy rate,
( nol truly elnpirica1. Hume's approach to NatuTalLaw, therefore, was sn
( example of the need to obey the great ¡alV of change: the theoretical
foundations of modero society and government needed to be secularized.
( lt was the fust part of Hume's campaign to bring tlJe political thinking
( of the establishment up to date: to give the regime philosophically
respectable and secure intellectual foundations_ From this point of
(
view, what looks like critical destructioll lUay be regarded as an attempt
( to salvage Natw-al LalV, the alternative being Hobbism and the anti-
( social tselfish systetn'.
But the danger oí Lhis sort oí operalion is that oDe is liable to be
( aecused of tUldermining Bnd destroying the very thing that one wants
to save by adapting it to the needs and spirit of the age.
<-
Tbis was, rOl' example, the fate oí ¡-Iume's ecclesia~tical friends, the
(
progressive party in the Chnrch of Scotland, the so-called Moderates,
\ "hose attempt to save religion and the authority of the Kirk by obeyiog
the great la", of change as they understood it-the alternati,e being
ineffective isolation on a sand-bank of outmoded theology in a sea of
godlessness-appeared to theír opponents as sellillg the fort to the spirit
of the age and the powers lhat be.
<- And simllarly Adam Smith's ingenious use oí sytnpatby aad the, im-
\. partial speclator to accoLUmodate tlle economic opportunism oí modern
( commercial sociely in a moral thoory that avoided the offensive para-
doxes of the Fable o/Ihe Bees, ",as seen by his contemporaries as a sell-
out on tlle etlúcal front. A theory so adjustabJe eouId accOlumodate a
gang of murderel's; in eITect, it IDeant tW'oing eth.ics ioto social psycho-
10g}-, and so oo. imilarly, Hume ",as aecused oí the ver.r thing he ",as
tryiug to save Natural Law from: Hobbism Ol' quasi-Hobbism aod the
destruCtiOll oí the natm'al foundations of justice. And of aU the ,al'ious
responses lo the needs oí the 8ge and the great law of change, Hume's
attempt to give Natw'al La", a more truly etnpil"ical foundation was
( perhaps the most aVDllt-garde and dangerous. lt meant, among other
( things, the exclusion of the 'religious hypothesis' frOln the science of
palities. So that the modernity oí Hume's scienee of polities in this
respect must nol be taken for granted: it was an achievement, a defiance
of Newtonian empiricism as that was understood by contemporaries, be-
(
DUNCAN FORRES 45
cause tbat inc1uded the existence of a Deity with a purpose rOl' his
creatures.
Otherwise, thcre is far more continuity belween Hume and Natural
Law tbeory than is usually allowed fol'; the range oí agreement has
beeo obscured by oversimplified readings oC such things 85 the slale oí
natw'e and the social contract, and especialiy by the common misunder-
standing of Natural Law ah-eady referred too Proper exegesis by study-
iog Hwne widely should iDc1ude the literattU'e of natural jurisprudence;
the teaching oI thot ",as just as impor1:ant in the Scottish universities as
lhe teaching oí Newton, which has long been a commonplace of Hume
interpretntion. But the natural jurispurdence, wlúch was just as much
in the aír Hume bl'eathed as Newtonian science, has been comparatively
neglected and its natw-e misunderstood_
An example of such misuuderstancling was seen recently when a
distinguished authority on the elhical philosophy of the period, in an
elaborate and closely argued account of Hume's critique of ethical
rationalism, equated the lalter with ~atural Law in such a \Vayas to
imply that the dcmolition oI ethicall'ationalism entajled tbe clemolitiou
of Natural Law. 4 Th.is 1S to take the "Tong turning at lito very sta1't
of a jom'ney that leads oot only to Hume's science or polities, but, as
has been seen, to Adam Smith's; lllliunderstanding oC the Natural
Law known to Smith \Vas a prime cause or the cluster of míscon-
concelltions that sWTounded the c1assical idea of Smilh's laissez-faire
liberalism, and crucially lhe failure to appreciate the empirical social
emphasis and framework of The rVeallh 011ValioTls, ",hich is the
legacy oí Natural La"", Commelltators have gone to work on Hume
with the same abridged and ll1isleading notion of Natural Law as a
priori, rationalistic and individunlistic. Hume is titen snid, by Jvleioecke,
rOl' instance, lo have rejected Tatural Law 01' destro),ed its rntional
roundations, only to remain under the spell of nattlrrechtlich thinking
(for example, in his idea of the u uiforrn ity or hUluan nature, ao idea
which has traditiollally been oversimplified to tite point of caricature),
wltereas it is nearer the truth to sa\- that as far as his thinking is
sociologically orientated, it is precisel): beca use he was uuder the innu-
ence of Natw'al Law. The stal"llng point of the natural jurisprudence
taught by Hutcheson and the 8uthorities he recommeJlcled-Grotius,
purendorf, Cumberlnnd, and others-was mau's social nature and the
facts of his 50cial life as given to ob:::ervation and 'cxpcJ'iment', 01"
what was called man's '50cial constitlltion', HU11le's sciellce of politics,
of men united in society and dcpendent 011 ench other, Can be seen as
a more intensive cultivalion of the same field, applying a more
genuinely empirical, more deeply researched science or m'ln, and
Smith's still more so, since Smith, for example, more consistenlly than
(
J-]ume ' s Science of Polúics
(
Hume, substituted moral consensus rOl' utilit)', aod earried research
( ioto men's malerial Bod psychological interde}Jendence mueh further,
( so IDuch further, in fact, lhat Smith described natural jurisprudence
as the Illost iml)()!"tant, hUL least culLivated, oí aU the sciences. One
has the impression th8t SmiLh tllought thal so lTIl1ch had lO be done
( as lo conslit111e "irluan)' a new dellnrturc-and Hume no doubt
experienced the same peak-in-Darien feeling when he first discovered
( his ke)" lo aH 1he scienccs of hUI118nil)'. 1 c\'cl1heless, 1he graund
theme of the project of a science of jurisprlldence and polities was
provided. in both cases, by the theorists of Natural La\'\': tlle social
(
emphasis alld compl'chensivcness of lhe science of politics oC Hllme and
( Smith i3 their legac)'.
( And in Hume's nccount oí political ohligation in Trealúe 111, Illllch of
lhe apparalus 01' old-slyle Natural Law is slill lhere. There is a place in
( Hume, in faet if not in name, fOI" the state of nature, lhnt is, a social
( slale pl"Pceding the establishment of regular government OI' (civil
society'; a state ""hich, as Hume pointed out, is more oí a genuinely
(
social state than, for example) Locke's, goyerned by rules of justiee,
( which Hume is prepared to caU 'oatural laws' in so far as they are
commou to the species, universal in that sense) a justice that is prior to
government and which government is instiLuted to maintain and eo-
( force. Nor was lhere anything new in Hume':; llse of the idea of a wholly
non-social 01' absolute state of nature as a fiction or methodological
device, which is aIl it can be if men ha ve ahvays beeo social; in assert-
ing that, Hume is merely aligning himself ,vilh Natural La"yorthodoA")',
agninst Epicllrean and neo-Epicurean extravagance aod 'mere' or use-
less hypothesis. Much of what has appeared to commeotators so striking
t in Hume's accouot of government and justice in Trealise 111 can be
found io Cumberland, Pufendorf and other naturallaw writers. J have
<- given details elsewhere. s And Hume Limself wos anxious to make the
(
point that 001)' inconsislency in Grotins and Pufendorf, due lo tbe
spirit of s),stem, sepaI'8ted his accounl oE justice derived from social
utility froro theirs-basically, he daimed, they were in agreement.
But thi5 is ingenuous. It conceals what really does strain the coo-
( tinuity between Hume ond the jusnaturolists) namely) the seculariza-
tion involved in Hume's application of what he regarded, and Iris coo-
temporaries did not, as a more truly empirical method.
It is io lhe light of this attempt at a more truly empirical aod lhere-
for secular version of Natural Law, 01' tbe ground of Natural Law, tbat
one can approach the famous so-caUed isl ought passage in the Trealise;
(
over which it seeros) to a historian at least, that a great deal of philoso-
phical ingenuity and effoI't has beeo speot to little purpose. Because ir
ooe is asking the question: what did he mean? that is a historical
DUNCAN FORRES 47
(juestion and demands koowledge of the somewhdl complex back-
ground) and Ü one 15 doing logic, theo why drag in Hume, ",ha waso't
nlogiciso, at least not in the twentieth centur)' sense of the word?
"'hat IJ ume sa)'s io the is I ought passage applics not onl y to lhe
rarified positioo of the ethical rationalists, who are oUlwardly lhe maín
and already, b)~ Hntcheson aud others) much battered target in Trealise
1 JI, the official opposition, but also to the systems of moralit)' described
towards the end oC the is/ollght paragraph as 'vulgar' (aud by that
Hume could oot possibl), have meaut the ethica] ratioualists), which
are 110t to be overlhrown and got out of lile way, bllt, as with the beliefs
of the vulgar consciousness in general, are to be methodized and
corrected: the systems of the classical moralists, the jusnaturalists,
Blltler, H utcheson, that claimed in more 01' less sophi5ticated ways to be
grounded on the faets of human nature as given to experience and
familiar to everyone. 'iVhat ",orries Hume about lhese ivulgar' systems
of morality is not the attempt to deduce 'ought' froro 'is'-be proceeds
to do it himself shortly afterwards-but the failure to do it properl),.
As Hume says, the 'ought' is: suddenly and imperceptlbly there; bow it
comes to be tbere is neither 'observed', Dor 'explained' . ..And why it \Vas
not done properly in Hume's eyes is a fairly long stor)', which bears out
very nicely Professor Jessop's point about wide study being tbe pre-
condition oí sound exegesis.
''Vhat is iovolved, in the final analysis, is Hume's eecentricity with
respect to the whole background of Newtonian emplricisffi, owing to bis
crisis of religious belief as a )'oung man, which made impossible for hirn
any continuance of the alliance hetween theology and natural seience.
The reader of, say, J-]utcheson 1 Cumberland 01" Pufendorf, says
Hume, in effect, in the very elliptical 'isl ought' passage, starts ,vith the
fnmiliar basic faets, man's sociableness, the law oí self-preservatioll, the
sexual impulse aud so on, 001)' to find that these fl.mdamental facts
about mankind are also duties, the change being 'imperceptible'. 'Ve
are endowed with tbe passion 01' propensity in order to be able to carry
out the duty oí propagating and preserving tbe species. The lis' in ract
is derived from the lought') unless one can establish empirieally tbe
existence of the ultimate 'is' and his laws aod purpose for rus crealion.
But the jusnaturalists and vulgar mOI'alists took it Ior granted tbat
pbilosophers had done that. The reader of the vulgar systems of morality
finds that in spite of the great show oí Newtooiao metbod and l'enuncia-
tion of 'mere' hypotheses, the faets of human nature are taken not as
they come but as arranged prior to eA-perience in a value s),stem mth
reasoD, superior to the feelings, at the apex. Tbe 'is ' of human nature
eODstitutes a reason-governed 'systern' that is nn 'ought" which in turn
presupposes a God-governed system of a11 ralional beings who recognize
(
Hume' s Science of Politics
(
( their obligaLion as moral agellts. The reader (inds lhat behind the faet
of meD united in society and dependent on each other is a prior 'society'
of rational agents, which is Dot accounted fOf; man's (social constitution'
( is seen to have two dimensiolls Bud one oE them, the prior superior one,
the loeus of the origin o( dnty, obligation and justiee, ,,-hieh have u1Li-
( matelr adivine som'ee and saneLion, has no truly empirical title. Tms
( was the point brought out by the fiction of BO e absolute' state of
nature as used, for example, by PuIendorf: in a totaUy non-social state
such as could never actually have existed, in which meo are conceived
( as wholly independent of eaeh other, men would still be morally bound
( by reeognition of their rational humanii:y; they would stiU aeknowledge
the duty of giving every one his due, which is Juslice in tbe superior
sense; such a stale would not be a stale DI "yar but a society. That society
( in Locke is not just a faet but a prior obligation is a point made by
Polio, fOl" instance. 6
( 1f, however, a true empiricism demands, as Hume wrote, in effect,
( to Hutehcson, that one braeket off the religious hypothesis and final
( causes, and if pi~t)' is not a primary feeling, as Hume argued in the
Nalural Hislory of Religioll, then in an imaginary absolute state of
natw'e men entirely independent of one another lVould be entirely
self-enclosed; there wouJd be no justice, no obligation-indeed }>er-
haps one can go so far as lo say that the lnunan psyche would cease to be
altogether: 'the minds of men are mirrors to one another'. 'Vitll the
cJosing of the empirieal route to God and the Great Society of Stoie
provenancc, man's esocial constitution' becomes oue-dimensional, and
the idea oí society is given a wholly secular meauiog aud importance:
( all the social bonds are forged in the only sort oí society we can know,
that is society in what fol' the jusnaturalists and tile yulgar systems of
( morality \Vas the (lower' sensc.
Seculnrity and godlessness were trailitionally connected with the
'selfish system', Epicureanislll, neo-Epicw'eanism, Hobbism. '\'hat is
new in Hume is tlle combinatían oí secularity, tlle brackettillg off of tite
religiaus hrpothesis, with tile intensel)' social thinking that is the
legacy of Natw'al Law-a combination that intensifies the sociality.
This daring oppJication of the Newtonian principie of economy against
the coutem¡x>rary Newtonians is Hume's apparenlJy unacknowledged
contriblltion to social theory.
And because Hume's critique of contract theory is separate from his
examination of the 'reJigious hypothesis', which had to be heavily
( camounaged, it has not been generally noticed that tite former is in-
complete without the latter. The 'fashionable system' had a theological
ground no less than had the passive obedience of the Tories. The
promise remained the ultimnte ground of political obligation, because
.~_?
DUNCAN FQ R.BES 49
it caJTied the divine sanction, which the mere i.11stitution of government
in the interest of society did not: the two things were qualitatively
different. Those who \Vere not dri,'en to qllestion this wou.ld llot have
found Hume's reasoning impressive: his appeal to common experieoce,
his massing of arguments 00 that front, \'Vas oC relatively secondary
importance.
On that front, the most telling contraetarian rel'ly \Vould be to ask
why the common experience that Hume appeals to does not includc
cantract and consent as one oC those belieís of tite vulgar consciousness
which the ordinary man can ooly assert, 01' which are presupposed by
what he says and does-lhe phiJosopher's task being to methodize an<[
carrect them. Hume says: ask the roan in tite street if he has consented
to obey tbe government and he wiJl think it a eraz)' qucstion. But he
thinks it a 00 less crazy question iI JOu ask him why he believes that tlle
suD wiD rise tomono,,". "'hat, therefore, outside Treatise 1 does CQn-
stitute a belief of the vulgar eonsciousness? The deeision to regard the
contract theorr as a local philosophical aberration and Dot a 0011-
rational assumption of all political, or at least tnzly hwnan 01' civilized,
political discow'se, seems wholly arbitrar)', and rests on a dubious kllOW-
ledge of the history and aneestry of the theory, whieh Hume appears to
regard as recento
As Coleridge said in his essay Onllle COllslilulion of Cll1lrch mul Stale,
the labourer discussing the illjustice oC the present rate oí wages in lln
alehouse is fully possessed by the idea oí all ever-originnting social con-
tracto He is llot conscious oí it, but, as St Al1gustine said about Time, he
knows it weU enough when you do Bot osk him.' That is BOt Hume, but
is it DOt Humean?
But criticislU oí Hume's science of politics opens lengthy yislas. One
lTIight ask, as, for instance, Arnold Brecht does in his book Political
Theory, whether bracketting off the religiol1s hypothesis IJas !lot closed
a possible source of fruitf111 ideas and damaged }>olitical science. And
Silvana Castignone's dem0115tration llJat HUl11e J s theory oí justice and
political obligation is interllallr sel[-contradictory seems to me difriculL
to ans\-ver.
My point, howeyer, has beell to sho\\" how studying Illlme's science
oí politics widely agail1st the historica} background, fOI" instance the
related amI ovedapping Scoltish ond European backgrounds, alld tlle
context oí Hum.c's political illtentiolls and the needs alld opportllllities
of the age as he ullderstood them, shon-s ltS a Hume rather different
fram that oí the conventional interpretation and perhaps evcn academic
consensus. It shows us a constructive, fOl"\vard-Iooking Hume, whose
consel'vatism, if Olle must use the word, was like that oí his friends,
and other lending social theorists of the Scottish Enlightenment, tlle
(
50 Hume l s Science of Politics PÁLL S.ÁRDAL 51
(
conservatism oC realism) not eomplacency 01' fear) eternally suspicious oC
( the q luck solulion and the polilical short-cut becanse insistent on the need
IOl" detached observatioll J and hest understood as embodying Burke's
maxim: \Ye must a1l abe)' the great la\"( of change. In Hume's case this
(
let! lo the paradox oE a post-revolulionary, establishment political COllvenlion ami Va/l/e
( philosoph)'J "hich in somc respeets was too avant-garde fOl" his con-
temporaries. IT Is UNWJSE lo assume) when the first thil'd of a work ha5 been read,
(
that that pal't can be full)" ullder¡;tood withollt lhe need to lJar atteution
( to lhe remaindel·. Hume concei red lhe Trealise of l-Iuman _ValuI'e as a
l. \V. B. Todd (ed.) Hume umllhe E,,/ightClIl1h'JIC (Edinbul'gh ami Austin uuit),) and it is, therefore, not surprising that one mar lJaye to wait
(
1974)· unlil one has read the thinl book l Of lIlorals) before one can he certain
( !:l. G. Vlachos Essai sur la Politiqul: de Hume (Paris 1955) p. 16.
of haviug uuderstood the fu·st book.
3. This is the multiple and lllore Ol" len well-defined sense in w!tich lused it
in J-/ume's Philosophical Politjes (Cambridge 197:». The relation between the three books oC the Trcalise has been mllch
+ D. D. Raphael 'Hume's Critique of Ethical Rationalism' in Hume lllld lhe discllssed. Norman li..emp Smith 3l'gued that the second book thl"o,,"s
Elllightellmrlll: p. 15 'ethical rationalism) the contemporary form of great light upon the fil'st book; and that it precedes the first book in date
natural la\\' lheory'j p. 19 'Now ethical rationalislIl wenl along with oI composition. 1 1 have myself tried to sho,," that the reading oC Dook IJ
( naturallaw lheory'.
is essential for the undpl'~tanclillg of Rook JIJ.:! 1 have no,," conc1uded
( 5. In p,U"t One of Hume's PhilosophiclIl. Poiitics.
tlIat aspects of Book 111 contain a c1ue to the uuderstanding oC certain
6. R. Polin La Politiqlle illol'lile deJo/m LocA-c (Paris 1960) p, 135.
( 7. Samuel TaylOl' Coleridge 011 lhe COIIstitlltioll 01 ClmrclJ ami State l eel. J. features of Book I. Thus Hume's account of the naLlIl'e of virtue enables
Barrell (London 1972) pp. 7-8. us to see what kind of justificatioll can be given for believing in a
(
continuously and independentl.r e:\;stÍng eA"ternaI l)'orld, aud also for
believing that it is in sorne sense reasonable to rely on past experiences
in the planning DI OUT fnture actions. Tendencies to hold these beliefs
are virtues, although their truth cannot be established by reason. The
coneept of virtue is thus fundamental to Hume's epistemology. But
these are not vutnes 1 propase lo discuss in this leeture, si..llce r haye
discussed them elsewhere. 3
(
Ho,,"ever) 1 sho11 here be concerned to advocate that au 8spect of
( Dook t of Tile Trealise is iutelligible 0111y iu the light ofthe aeeOllut of
virtue in Dook 11 I. In coming to lhe ead of a good detective story one
undel'stands some oí the strange happenings al the beginning of it.
Things faU into place. 1 believe this lo be true of Hume's Trealise also.

THE 1 hiPO R T A NCE oí the coneept oI artificial virtue in Hume's moral

theory can hardly be disputed. Re¡;peet for properLr rigbts, ehastit},)
faithlulness to promises and allegiance to government are such vi.l'tues.
Althougb these are the onIy artificial virLues Hume discusses, he no-
where sllggests that there are DOt other such virlues. AH oo'lincial
( virtues are intelligible only in the ligbt of certain cOllventioos entered
into by members of a society, and lheir value depends upon general
(
eontinuance of behaviour eonformable to the conventioos adopted.
What has uot beeu appreciated is that lhe eoueept of artificial yirtue is
crucial for the understaoding of aspects of HumeJs philosophy other
(
( Conuenlion ancf Value
( thau his moral aud political theory as uorrnally understoad. 1 shall be
parLicularly concerned to show that Hume's account of the place oí lao-
guagc in human life cannot be understood. ltnles5 due weight is given to
(
his discllssion oC artificial virtues, and in particular to tha special concept
( oC convention that plays a crucial role in the explanation oí such virtues.
In the first part of this essay, 1 shall criticize wItat has beeo called
(
Hume's cofficial view' about the lneanings DI words, according to which
( view the meanings oí \''f'ords are mental images. II the meanings oí
\Vords are such images their essel1tially private nature entails the im-
possibiHtJ of communication. lt is, oí course, possible that RUIne thought
( tbat the meanings oC words are ideas, and that some or all ideas are
private, although the)' are uot images. This is a possibility 1 shaJl not
discuss. Nor shall 1 consider the possibilit), that ideas are neither images
(
nor necessarill' private. In this essay 1 want to be token neither to
( accept Dar to reject these possibilities. In my criticism of the so-called
{ 'official view'1 1 sball simply allow to go unchallenged the coutention
that at least most ideas nre 1 in Hume's ,riew, private images. It is the
( c1aim that ideas, conceived as images, are meanings, that 1shall challenge.
Although 1 shall refuse to attribute to Hume the víew that words
mean ideas, 1 shaUnot ask, "Vhat do words mean iI they do not mean
( ideas?', fol' 1 am tlot at al! incliued to believe that Hume had a theol'Y
oí meaning oC the k¡nd that such a questiou seems to presuppose.
However, Hwne does, in difTerent parts oí his \York, discuss issues
that concero the place oC language in human life. 1t is my conteution
that when attention is paid to these cliscussions a picture of Hume
differect froro the one often drawn will emerge. 1 hope at least to sho",
(
that he.can no longer be seen as committed to a lile of splendid isolation
( withia his own privnte world of incOInmunicable ideas.
1 T 1 S W 10 EL Y belie,-ed that Hume had little interest in lauguage, and
that what liltle he did sal' on this topic is not only inadequate but also
singularlr 'Hong-headed. 1t is difficult to disagree with this assessment
if one accepts Anton), Flew's interpretation. Flew "Tites:
The first thing to appreciate is that in Hume's official view ideas
always just are mental images. Furthermore tite nleanings of
n-ords are ideas, ideas again being identified with mental images.
From time to time not surprisillglr he says things which are hard
01' impossible to square with this orricial posilion. Nevel'theless
( tIIere is no doubt that this is his opillion ",hen he is on gua.rd. In
the Treatise ideas are identified explic.itly wilh mental images 00
page ooe: impressions are to inelude 'aU Olll" sensations, passions
and emotions'; ",hile ideas are 'the faint images of these in think-
ing and reasoning'."
pÁLL S.ÁRDAL 53
Although Flew is primarily coocerned ""ith lhe first Ellquiry, tite
reference he here makes te the Treatise strougly suggesls that Hume
held the same view ",hen be wrote that work.
Hume may oi corn'se have had an 10fficiaP alld an ullofficial Yiew,
and his uDofficial view lTIay have represented his considered opinioo.
But this is Dot a possible interpretation of Flew's vvords J [01' he aims aU
bis criticisms agninst what he calls Hume's {offieial view'. lf theo tile
view that meanings are private mental ¡mages represeots Hume's con-
sidered apioion, as is suggested by the claim that 1t is his 'official view' J
then Hume's doctrine is easily refuted, for it entails tbat commuuica-
tian by tile use oí language is impossible. 'Vords used by me can mean
only my ideas or u:nages, and )Tour words can mean only you.. ideas or
images. Since rny ideas are inaccessible to you, the meaning oí my
words would alwa)"s be out of yon!" reach. No more needs lo be said
about such a doctrine to show i15 total inadequacy. But, as Flew notes,
Hume says tbings incompatible vvith his allegedly 'official' doctrine. 1
shall attempt to sltow that so me of Hume's so-called careless lapses are
nothing of the sort, hut are suggestive of a view about the place of lan-
guage in hwnan life ",hich is vastlr more complex and interesting than
the (official' "iew.
Jonathan Bennett seeros in general agl"eement ",ith Flew ",hen he
",rites: IHlllneJs view of mcaning is esseutially Locke's: lo understand
a word is to associate it with a kind of ¡¡idea", aud Uidea~l) are quasi-
sensory states.'$ And a little later ,ye are told that it is well known that
'Hunle . . . took over aH the main elemen15 of Locke's meaning-
empiricism, except ror the part abollt abstract ideas . . . 1. 6 This is
bal'dly a minar difference between Hume and Locke, fo1' a theo!"y of
meaning ,yould surely be more concerned ",ith the meaniug of general
terms tban ",ilh proper names 1 alld it is comUlonl)' thought that Locke's
theory of abstract ideas ,,-as meant to explain how general tenns have
meaning. In one re~peet Bennctt's view seems to cUrrer fram Flew's,
for Bennctt sa)"s that to uuderstand a ","ord is to associale 1t ,yitlJ an
idea. Thus he mal' 110t want to sar tbat mcanings are ideas. But lhe
difference between the l,,"o commentators is on1r apparent, for at the
end of the chapter from which 1 ha ve been quoting, lleullett indicates
that Hmne should ha,e beeu {orced to adll1it 1 • • • that his eq118tion of
meaning "ith ideos is hopelessly wrong'.7 Thus, ir Beunett's s0111ewhot
obscure expressioll (quasi-seIl50J'Y sta te' rneans the some as 'image', and
tltis does not seem lIulikelY1 then the two illlerpretntions are idenlical.
Flew and Bellnell are among lhe most innuelltial commentnlors on
Hume's phiJosoph)'. If their iuterpretation is questionable, it is im-
portant to question it.
Hume 1 Flew c1aims, had an inverted npproach to langunge, alld
( 5+ COlluenlion alld f/alue
(
hence to philosophYI for he approaches language fmm 'the logically
( I)l'h'8te }'ealm of Dne man's expel'ience'.8 The doctrine) \Ve are told, is
c1eal'ly stated by Locke, hut it is tacitly presupposed by HUDle, whe
wouId no doubt llave staled it if he had been at 011 interested in lao-
guage and :::;emantic considerations. 1 do not propase to take issue
( direclI)' with this allempt to discover Hume's thought in Locke's
writing. The dangers of 111i5 approach are ob,io\l5 and ful1y granted by
( Bennetl and Fle,,", the Jalter wisel)', if some\Yhat ll'uisticallr) slre5sing
that 'Hume i5 and alw8Ys must be lhe 5upreme authol"ity on Ilume'.9
The views 1 shall attl'ibule to Hume will be based entirelj' on Hume's
own Wl'ilings.
( haye: determinate lengths. Thus, ir \Ve considf'r the hnage we may form
1 SJlALL Now argue th8t Hume, in lhe chaptel' lor Abstl'aet Ideas'
(
in the Treatise, cleady rejects the view that the meanings oí \Vords are
( private mental image:;. The fact thaL he cloes not in this chaj)tel' dis-
( cuss the social context of the use of language goes no way to,,"ards
sho,,;ng that he considered words Lo stand for private ideas in the
( speaker's mind, as Locke sometimes appea)':; to have lhought. For
( Hume, in this part of the Trealise, is sirnply not concerned with the
problem of communicalion aod the social significance oí language. It is
( lhe possibilil)" of general 01' abslracl lhoughls thal he here wanls lo
explain, and thinking is cleady au activity \Ye can engage in OD ou.r
aWI1. Perhaps aH bUl the most rudjmentary l~ind of thinking requires
language. BUl there is no reason to believe that Hume would want to
den)' this, for in this part of the Treatise Hume is not discussing how
language mar be acquired. He takes lhe existence of language for
granled.
Hume slresses at the beginning oí lhe discussion that a11 ideas are
particular and that 1general ideas' are no more than I • • • pal·ticular
ones, anuexed lo a certain term, which gives them a more extensh-e
significatian, and makes thelTI recall upon oceasian other individuals,
which are similar to them ' (p. 17)'
1t may seem obviollS tbat if ideas are images tben they are particular,
for any possession oC ao image, 01' the conjuring up oC oue, is a datable
OCCllrrence. Thus, 1 now forro an image of nlY cal' standing in front oC
my hanse, and this is a different image from the image 1 may form, a
few minutes f1'om no"" of lhe same c.ar, standing in front oí the same
honse. But thi5 is nat ",hat Hume is seeking to establish. For, even if it
were possible to [onu ao abstracl idea of man, this would clearly be a
particular OCCUlTence, in tbis respect exaetly like the occurrence oC
( forming a particular idea. Hume is not trying to show, what is in any
case obvious, that aU ideas, 01' images, are themselvcs particular, con-
ceived of as mental oeCtu'rences. He is rather making the much more
pALL S.ÁRDAL 55
contentious claim that a11 ideas are of particlllars. IThe image in the
mind is on/)' lhat of a particular objecl, tho' the application oí it in our
reasoning be the same, as ifit "yere univel'sal' (p. 20, m)' italics).
Abstraet ideas, he thinks, are impossible becallse they would be of
something that could not have separate existence. 1 do not particularlr
\Yant to den)' that images may, in sorne cireumstanees, be lhought of as
having determinate characteristics. Perhaps tbe image oC a line may
have detenninate length. Thus 1 may project an image upon a waU and
it could perhaps be said thallhe image is tlle length of the width of the
wall, 01' half the width oí the wa11, as the case may be. But Hume is
dearl)' wrong to c1aim lhaL ow' images or lines not on1)' mar, but mllsl
of sueh an object as a hause, we may form an image of a large 01' a
small house without either the image itself 01' lhe inlaged house
having a determinate size. Any existing honse will, oC course, have a
a determinate size, but one seems to be able lo form imnges, oí in-
determinate size, of houses the sizes of which are not conceived oí as
determinate either. If impressions do not differ fl'o01 icleas in kind, they
ought likewise to admit of possible indeterminacy. Yet Hume in-
sists that ' ... no impression can become present LO the mind, without
being determin'd in its deg¡'ees I>oth oE quanlity and qualüy' (1).19).
Impressions, it is trne, ma)' be 'faint and unEiteady', and this may lead
to confusion, bUl tbe rnind cannol ' ... receiye any impression, "",hich
in its real c:cistence has no particular degree nor proportion' (p. 19, my
italics). ¡-Tere it seems that 'impression' reCen oot only lo a mental
phenomenon, but to a real objectú)e e:cistence. Hume theo claims tbat
whatever is true oE ao impression must be true oC the idea which
copies it. He adds the final eontention that ' ... to form an idea of an
objecl, and to form an idea simplJ' (p.• o) isthe same trung. Ir, lhere-
fore, ODe attributes determinate qualities to ao object one has an im-
pression oí, one must attribute tbe same determinateness to one's idea.
,f\7)lat is significant here is that H urne argues from what he takes to
be kllO\'\'1l qllalities oí objects to the charaetel'istics we must attribute
to ideas. He appeals to ' ... a principIe generally ,.ecei \"d in pbi.losophy,
Ihal everything in nature is individual . . . ' (p.lg). 'If lhis . . . be
absw'd in facl and realit)', it must alsa be absltl'd úz idea; since nothing
oí which we can form a clear and distinct idea is absurd and impossible
... ' (pp.lg,.n). A publicly accessible world is presupposed, and it is
not al. al] stressed lbat. the ideas \'Ve derive frOID the impressions oC this
world are essentiaUy private. They ratber take on, in Hume's mind,
sorne of the characteristics of tbe public world sucb as deterrniuateness
of quality and quantity. His error is not that of attributing lo the real
world charaeterístics of prívate images. He seems, on the contrary,
( r!
( ConvenliolZ and Value
wron~ly to credit ide~ ~r images with cllaracteristics kuown to belong
to an ldependently eXlstlllg world of objects.
Hume's reasoning may have beeo as follows: he notes th8t existence
is Dot a special characteristic of what exists. 1t is, he thinks J can estah-
lished maxim in metaphJsics, Tlzat u;/zalever lhe mzizd clearly COll-
( the thought of a particular killd of animal, such as a dog, for an image
eeives ineludes tlze idw of possible existenee ... ' (p. 32). Any possible
( existence \Ye can thiuk oí roay be en actual existence. The actual and
the possible thus must, in a sense, have the same characteristics. Since
the actual is always determinateJ aoy possible existence one may thiok
of must be determinate. Ir nOl, what luros out to exist , for example,
the gol?en mouotain, will be differeot from the possibly existiog
mouutaUl.
~trictly speaking there are no i~eas of anything abstraet or general
Ol" ludetenlllnale. '''118t happens 15 that, after Iloting a resemblauce
between a number of objects, we use the same term to cover them aIl
. .
l~ splte of sorne differences between them. '~"hen a customary associa-
' the two figw'es eau be distinguished. This shows that understanding
( tIOn betweell the terro and these objects has beeo established, the hear-
ing of the term conjmes up an idea of ooe of the objeets covered by the
terro, together witl1 a readiness to call up ideas of other particulars to
which the term applies. Not aU oí these can actually be sluveyed on each
occurrence oí the term's use. In O1ost cases their number is, indeed, UI1-
determined. Tltey are there 'in power', as Hume pllts it. It is clear that
the idea called to milld is oot to be equated with the meaniog of the
termo It is the actual idea, aod 110t those existing in power onJy, that
can be descrihed as au image. Hence the meaning of no general term
can be au image. lndeed, what Hume gives liS llere is ao account of
( how he beli~ves \Ve do manage to use general terms in ow' thioking,
although aUIdeas are of particulars. lt is, he thinks, simply a fact about
(
hlllilan beings that images ha ve the place he ascribes to them in our
thinking. In this he almost certainJy is lnistaken, if he illtends to deuy
the. possi~ility of tllinking enti.rely in 'Vords, as opposed to images,
",111ch Pnce caUs quasi-instantiati"e instances. \Vords rareIy resemble
~\'hat they stand for, whereas images of objects are like the objects
ltnaged. \-Ve mallage to use general tenns in Ollr thinking because we
acquire a certaio capacity to check oW'selves if \Ve are tempted lO mis-
use the tenu. On difTerellt occasions of the use of tbe term a different
p~·tic~aI· may be actualized 01' il11aged as opposed to remainiog in our
llllllds In power oruy. This does fiol mean that a differeut meaning is
attached to the tenn wheoever a difTel'ent image comes to mind.
~eneraJ term~ do llOt ha~e ideas 01' images as their meanings. Ideas 01'
l~ages come ID, .only as part of the contingent psychological descrip-
hOIl of tite way i l l which we do think. It is the natw'c of the habit.
associated wl.th the OCCWTent idea that determines the meaning ,ye
J._
pÁLL S.ÁRDAL 57
attribute lo the termo Thus the same image, fol' example, that of a
Scottish teITier, may be used in thinking of a Scottish terrier, a dog and
an animal. lf the meaning of a word were an image, it is hard to see
how one eould distinguish between thiaking of colour and thinking of a
particular colour, such as red, between the thought of all animal and
must, according to Hume, be oí a particular colour alld of a paI-ticular
dogo It is the hahit of linguistic usage nnd what exists in power only
that determine the meaning attached to a term in out" thinking, and al]
image that exists in power only is no image at all.
Hume stresses not only that tite same image may be used in the
t1úok:ing of two different thoughts, but also tltat the limitations oC our
powers of imagining are not limitations of om powers of tltioking.
Thus, one cannot distinguish the image of a figw'e with 999 sides from
tite image oí anotller with 1,000 sides. In spite oí this, the natw'es of
the oatures of these figures is not essentially dcpendent upon ow'
ability to form images of them.
The account Hume gives oC our ability to have the most sublilne and
compounded ideas, sucll as tlle idea of God, can hardly be thought of as
an aherration. This topic \Vas of such importance to him that he must
have given it serious consideration. He "Tites in the Enquiry con-
cerning ¡:fuman Understandúzg: 'The idea of God, as meaning an in-
finitely intelligent, wise, aod good Being, arises [rom renecting on the
operntions of our OWll mind, and augmenting, without limit, those
qualities of goodness aud ","¡sdom.'lo VVe clearly cannot fonn fll1 image
oC a being of this oature aoy rrlOre than of a chiliagoll, hut ow· capacity
to understrmd the concept of progressive enlargemcnt enílbles Dlll'
undel'standing to reach beyond the limilS of imaging in these cases, 8S
well as in thnt of large numbers sucb as 1,000. \;Ye can have RIl image
of n pair aud add to it, and that of a square and illcl'ease the number of
sides.
In addition to ",hat has been said so far, we may rcmind oW'selves
that aU distinctions oC reason inyolve coming lo understand the lueall-
ing of something that cannot he imaged. No independent images can
he formed of the shape and the colour oC a globe. Yet ,ye may distiu-
guish them in our thol1ght.
. VVith respect to the possibility of thinking witltout non-verbal images,
lt may be noted that Hume stresses
. . . that in talk.ing of governmefLi, cJlIlrch, negoliolion, conqliesl,
we seldom spread out in our minds allthe simple ideas, oC which
these complex ones are compos'el. 'Tis however observable, that
notwithstanding this imperfectioll we lUay avoid talking nonsense
( ConuenLiolZ and Value
on these 5ubjects, and may perceive noy repugnance among the
( ideas, as weH as if we hod a full eomprehension of them. Thus if
instead of saying, lhal in war lhe weaker llave always recourse lo
Ileaollation
o , we shou'd say, thai t!Ley halle always recourse lo con-
gllesl, the custOl11, which we have acquir'd DI 8ttributing cerlaio
( relations lo ideas, still follows the words, Bod makes us immediately
perceive the absurdity of that }>l'Oposilion¡ in the same manner as
( lo increase these neeus, the power and security eo-operatioll pl'oYides
one particular idea may serve llS in reasoning concerning olher
( ideas , however different fram it in severa1 circuITIstances. (Trealise,
P·25)
lt is, of COUl-se, highl)' qucstionable whethel' one can make good sense
oC tbe nOlion t118t the ideas 01" eonquest, negolialion, goverument,
church, are composed of simple ideas, particularly iI ideas are thought
of as imnges. In an}' case, if 1 am right, Hllrne has denied that there is
any one idea or image fol' wlIich these terros stand. Howevcr, this
passage makes it clear lhal talking ar thinking, in sucb as way as lo
(
avoid nansense, does nol necessal'ily dcpend upon having non-verbal
( images. Sllch images as may be typicnlly assaciated ,,,ith the words can
be dispensed wi1h and the words by themselves strike us as absurdo One
need nol use quasi-instantiative pal·ticulars in one's thinking, but in
sueh cases there are al leaSl, according to Hume, ideas al' inlpressions of
words. To be oonscious is to have perceptions and lhese are eitber im-
pressions al' ideas. The fol1owing qnotaLion may serve to illuslrate 1bis.
He says: liTis evident, thal the idea, al' ral11er impression oí ow-selves
is alwa)'s inlimalely presenl with us, and lbat out" consciousness gives
us so li vely a conception oí OUT own persoll, that 'lis nol possible to
imagine, that any thing can in this l,articular go beyond it' (ibid., p.
3 1 7)' Hume's hesitation in deciding whether the perception of our~
( selves is an impression 01' au idea may be due to the fact that, when we
are deep in thought, we nU1Y be so faintly aware of lhe lmpl'essions of
OUT body and surroundings thatthey are almosllike ideas.
Although Hume is primarily concerned with thinking in his dis-
cussion oI abslract ideas J he does J in the long passage 1 have quoted,
refer to the way in whieh J when we have learned a language, we can
avoid talkiog nanseose without the aid oí non-verbal images Ol' ideas.
l But the reader is not told how language is acquired aod comD1uDiea~
lion achieved. To understand what Hume thought about the place oí
( language in the social setting of human communieatioD, ooe needs to
look at certaia diseussions in Book nT oí the Treatise. The absence ¡roro
Dook 1 oC a discussion of language as a public pbenomenon and a meaoS
( of cnmmunication should nnl be taken to indicate that he thougbt of
,""ords as having private meanings in the form of mental images. He
says far loo many things incompatible with this view for tbese to be
pÁLL S.ÁRDAL 59
aLU'ibuted to mere carelessness. Indeed, 1 have already tried to sbow
Lhat Hume rejecLs the 'official viewJ in the chapter lor Abstraet Ideas J.
Let us DO\,,( explore what his discussion of artificial v1l'llle5i can teach us
about his real view.
Hu 1'1 E STR ESSES that, compared \vith other animals, man seems i11-
elldowed by natllre lO s8tisf)' his mooy needs. Althollgh society tends
Icaye man I • • • in every respeet more s8tisfied anc1 happy, than 'ti:;
possible fol' him, in his savage and solitar}' conditiou, ever to become'
(ibid., P-485)· Tite artificial virtues al'e essenlial ir lllan i.5 to achie,'e
the benefits of societr.
In discussing these virtues Hume distingui5hes the question of their
origin f'rom the reasons why \Ye approve of ]>eople ",ho lJ05SC5S them.
Let us begin by considering the quesllon oC origino He te115 us that
I • • • the sense of justice and injuslice is not deriv'd ITom natm'c, but
arises artificially, tho' neeessarily frOlu eduealion, aod hnman con-
ventions' (ibid., p. 485)'
In looking for the origin of justice Hume is Ilot plll'suing history in
any ordinary sense. He wants to sho,," thal without postulating a
special innate 01' God-given facult), of justiee it is wholl)' intelligible J
aud not the least bit sLU1)rising, lhat man in sociel)' should ha ve es-
tablished conventional rules govel'ning the possession aud use of
material goods. So lar is the origin of ])roperty from being slU'pl'ising
that the known motives of self-loterest and confined beneyolence can
be seen to lead naturally to the establisruofT oí lhe rules fTovel'JlinfT
o
propel't)', independently of moral considerations. Df couTse," "
the rules
governing property may var)' fl'om one societ)' to aoother J bul human
nature is such that sorne such rules are bound lo be developed in any
society, given the seareity oI material goods. That sueh rules will be
established can thus be tbought of as a law of nature. Similarly, ]an~
guages may varyJ but no human society ,,;11 be fOllnd without sorne
laoguage, for human oatm'e is such lhat men will necessarih' come lo
have language, and the usefulness of the conventions that give rise lo
language win not escape man in societYJ seeking lo allgment his power
lo satisfy rus own and society's desil'es and needs. Hnme 1 io diSCllssiog
how Lhe comparative weakness of roan as au individual can be overcome
by social co-operatiou, stresses that communicalion is indispensable for
lhe success of this enLerpl'ise.
The laTtificial conventioo' that gi ves rise to justice is not to be under-
stood as a promise, fnr promises them,elves are made possible only by a
similar human convention. These conventioos are la general sense oí
COmmon interestJ, expressed by aU the menbers of society to each other.
(
60 Conuention and Value
( Each individual sees it to be in bis o\Yn interest, and in the interest of
those far whom he is nalnrally coDcerned, lo follow eertain rules af
behaviow' ,vilh regard to trausferable goods. People are left to possess
aud eujoy certain goods on lhe understauding lhal others will foUo\V
( the same rules in thei.r conducto This, he says, 1 . . . lnay properly
enough be call'u a conventioo al' agreement betwixt US, tho' without
(
the interpositioD of a prOlnise; since the aet10ns of each oC us have a re-
ference lo those oí the other, and are perfonn'd upon the supposilion,
that sometiling is to be perform'd on the other palt' (ibid., p. 490 l.
The example is given DI two meo rOvving a boat in harmony without
hnvillg given a promise to each other. The regularity oC behaviour in
accordance with rules oC justiee arises gradually. People discoyer how
(
deviations frOln the regularitr are disadvantngeous, and confidence in
the cautiuuation of the reglllarity is gradllally built up. The sense of
common interest will make it reasonable fOl" us to base our conduct on
the assum pLiou tbat others wiU follow tile rules as \Vell. Let Hllme
speak for himself:
Nor is the rule concerning the stability of possession the less deriv'd
from human con,-entions, that it arises gradllally, aud acquires
force by a slow progression, and by ow- l'epeated experience of the
inconveniences of tl'ansgressing it. On the contrary, this experience
assures us still more, that the sense of interest has become common
lo all our fellows, and giYes us a confidence of the futlU-e regularity
of their cooduet: and 'tis only on the expectation of this, that our
moderation and abstinence are founded. lo like manner are lan-
guages gradually establish'd by human conventioos váthout any
promise. (ibid., p. 490 l
And in ApIJendix III of the Enquiry conceming lhe Principies 01
l\1orals Hume again says that ' ... speech aud ,yords aud language are
fixed by hum811 conventioo and agreement'.tl He also asserts in
Appenmx 111 that 'col1vention' usually nleans 'premise' and that, in
this sense oí the word ICOllYeotion', it is absurd to suggest that justice
aud, as we shall see, lallguage as well, arise from human conventioos.
For HUlne claims that lobseryance of promises' is an important part of
jl.'stice and tllat it would therefore be viciously circular to argue thot
\. \Ye ought to keep ollr promises because we promised to do so. This
( lea ves unexplailled tite reason whr "ve ought to keep that original
promise. And lallgllagcs cauoot be based vpon a prOluise sincE' they are
possible only if "e already have Janguage. Tile pasiLion HlUne attncks
is not to be confused with the vicw Ulat the natw'e of a promise is sllch
that it ought to be kept, for this latter view does not lean on a promise
to keep prom.ises in order to explain why promises ollght to be kept.
'"Ve have seen that Hume, in the Trealúe, aI"gues that promises are
r"
1 PÁLLS.ÁRDAL 61
intelligible only if a hllman cauvention is presupposed. But the seuse in
wIDch 'convention' is used in that account diITers in important respects
from convention as promise, or mutual ex-plicit agreement. Not only
Hume, but Bertrand RusseU and William AIston have taken 'con-
vention' to naturallr mean lexplicit agreement' or 'mutal pro mise' and
both these deny, with considerable justification, that language can have
had such an origino Aiston writes: 'By the oatare oC the case, making
agreements and conventious presupposes that people already have a
language in which to carry 00 these acti\'iLies.'12 And .Russell "''Tites:
'We can hal"dly suppose a parliament of hitherto speechless elders meet-
ing together and agreeing to call a cow a cow and a wolf a wolf. Tite
associaLion of words with their .meanings must have grown IIp br some
llatw'al process, thOllgh at present the natura of the process is Ull-
kuown.'J3 Hume would wholeheartedly agree, for the cOllvel1tion that
accounts for the origin of promises is not a promise and can therefore be
appealed to without cu"cularity. In the same way the conventioos that
give rise to a natural language do not presupp:>se linguistic behaviom'
aud, therefore, can aIso be appealed to without circularity. For when
Hume says that tite artificial virtues, and language, ha ve their origin
in human conventions, he means by this n perfectly natural process. It
consists in 1 ... a sense of comlnaD interest; ",..hicl1 sense each lUan fecls
in his own breast, which he remarks in bis fellows, and whiclt caITies
him, in concurrence with others, i oto a general plan or s),stem of
actioos, whicl.1 tends to pl1blic utility.... '1"
It is im]Xlrtant to remind ourse1ves that Hume is not saying that the
conventions he refers to are necessary to secure for people the enjoy-
ment of their propel-tr, 01' to make people keep their promises or use
language sl1ccessfu.lly. He is making the more radical claim that with-
out the conventioos there 'would be no property, DO promises aud 110
langllage.
lt matters BOt at aH whetlter Hume's sense of 'con"entioos' is the
ordinary sense 01' a special sense. 1t is, for example, perfectly true that
we oIten talk of conventions that mar al" may not be adopted. Thus
there are seyeral different conventioos people can adopt fOl" bidding iu
bridge. Tite con,'entians exist whether Ol" 110t they are adopted. To give
rise to lJroperty we must actually adopt a c011"entio11, behove in a pnr-
ticular way. lt mal' also be noted that agreeing upon a cOl1vention, and
thus adopting it, is Dot usual}y thought of as involving promises_ \Vlten,
in playing bridge, one bids 5 no trumps ",hen the collvention agreed
upon, 01' adopted, demands a bid of '1- spades, one's partner has no right
to cOll1plain that a promise to him has beell broken. A guarantce in the
form of a promise would oormally be demanded only if there is in one
partner douLt about the l'eliability of the other. It ",ould be somelhillg
( 62 Conventioll and f/aLue
over and aboye the adoption oC lhe conventioo. But Hume's sense oC
( convention is not ooly 001 a pro mise, it daes Dol involve an explicit
agreement, 01' al least nol necessarily so. The concepl oC 'adopting' may
too strongl), suggest nn explicit, deliberately decided upon eud le m-
( pornll)' datable aelion) whereas 11 ume's convention Dormany is estab-
lished hy lhe gradual coming into being oC 8n actual pnttern oC 1>e-
(
havioul' involving lacit understanding anlr.
Consider no\V lhe case oC lhe oarsmen that llume uses in e::\.-plaining
the sense oC conventioo we are concerned witll. Firstly, there is no need
lO presume that the t\Yo oarsmen, rowing in unisoo, are seeking a
common end, that eod heing to gel both safel)' lo theil' destination. The
important point is that each has hi5 own aim, ,yhich can be achieved
onl)' on the understanding that the otller will behave in a certain way.
(
The boat ""i11 go in a cil'cle ir ODe rO\YS and the ot1ler does not. The same
result wiII follow if one consistentl)' I'OWS more strongly than the other.
If Lhey are erratic in this regard Lhey will follow a course tbat is less
efficicnt in achieving the result sought by each of them. The co-
ordinated endeavour of the two oarsmeD presupposes that each can
understand aud recognize intentional activity. Each must be able to
modir)' his conducl on the assumption that the other wiIl see it as re-
flecting aWal'cness of what he is trying to do. Ir languages come into
existence by a similar convention¡ it i5 lherefore unrlerslood that those
becoming party to the conventions tllat give rise to language already
understand intelltional activity oI a non-linguistic kind and can recog-
nize it in themselves and in others. In this case the rowers' aim happens
to be the same: each waDts to get saIely ashore. V\T e have here a situa-
tion clase to what has been called a perfect co-ol'clination equilibrium. 1S
Each is belter off than he would be if either were to behave differently.
Hume somelimes seems to think that justice is like this. 'And even
every individual person', he says, 'must find himself a gainer, on
balancing the account; since, wilhol1t justice, society must imrnediately
clissolve, and everyone must faU into that savage and solitary conditlon,
which is infinilely worse than the worst situalion that can possibly be
suppos'd iD societ)" (Treatise, p. 497). Usual1y, however, Hume rea-
lisLical1y grants 1hat in individual cases behaviol1r contrary to justice
may benent Bn individual Ol' even the general publico A perfect equi-
librium need 110t existo But a general adherence to the pattern of beha-
viour is a necessaxy condition for tbere beiog aoy convention at aH.
KnowleJge of, 01' at least belief in, the othe1" oarsrnan's per'formance,
is a necessary conditioo for lhe reasonableness of your performance, just
as bis actual performance is a necessary condition for the success of your
owo.
A co-orclina1ion equilibrium may exist without a coovention. One
PÁLL S,ÁRDAL
l11ay dJ'ive always on the same side of tbe road aud trus ma)' beDefit
evel)'one, because eVe1]'One else drives 00 tbat side as well. But, uotil
there is a general awareness that the practice is followed by others, no
conyention can be said to existo Your an-areness of the practice othe1's
follow, and )'0111' rcalization lhat each is anrare of the practice follovred
by aH aod sees his actions as dependent upon tlli5 llractice, strengthens
Jour reliaDce upon the dependability of othc1'5. Tltis reliance is, of
course, reasonable iI one }l)"esumes lhat people in general seek to rea-
lise their aims.
Thus the indiyidual will k.now tbat ot~er5 are goiug to depend upon
hi5 per'formance, and that deviations are likely to lead people astray in
their plans aud anticipations. He will not be able to escape obsening
the disadvantages of the deviations in his own case and "in appreciate
that otllers are similarIy affected, because oí what Hume calls 'the
general sense oC COlUmon inlerest'. Thus the eSlablishing oí the COIl-
veDtioD creates a standard ofbehaviour, which IDust be conformed to if
one is to derive lhe benefit the convention confers.
Hume gives an example oí the way in whicb a linguistic convention
comes to be woyen into social life. The rea50n why '1 llromise' and
similar eA-pressions come to be used in making pro mises is that people
see it to he to their mutual advantage to have agreed ways of com·
mitting tbemselves to future behaviour by laying their dependability
upon the lineo 1 will help you if you promise to help me lotero If you do
promise, but do not help me, )'OU iucw' the risk oí not being able to
secure belp by promising in the future. But, alLhough }"ou 81'e using
language irresponsibly if )'OU make false pro mises the temptations to do
so are manr. It is obvious that people often get away v\rith making false
pro mises 01' unjustifiably not doing what they promised to do. Taken in
isolatioo, each individual act of justice, fjdelityto promises, 01' adherence
to tbe truthful use oí language, ll1ay seem to benefit neitller the in-
dividual nor the society at large. It is the whole system of conventional
behaviow' that ti beneficia!' Those who see the general utility of the
artificial virtues ,,;11 not '\oVant to do anything tha1 will tend to erode
them. They will, througb sympathy "ith the interests oí the general
public, come to approve of those who stick to the rules even wheD sorely
tempted to break them in order lo ac1lieve short term gain. Hume, as
we have seeD, sometimes seemed to think that tbe long ter m interests
of each individual would be best served iI he stuck rig.irlly to tbe rules
oí jusLice. However, people caD hard.ly be presumed to be alwa)'s
sufficientIy perceptive to see trus. This is why it is IDOst important to
inculcale in people feelings oí obligation to stick to Lhe rules even in
cases when the advantages of breaking tbem seem greater. Parents a.nd
other educators, and politicians, ro.. e most active in the nttempt to
 r·....
(
COlluenlion. alld Value
!'
(
( iostill iD people the seose o[ ohügatioo to he just in respectiog property
rights and responsible in the use of language. Tbe concept oí a re5-
poosible laoguage-user is strictly analogous to the coocept o[ a just man.
He will oeither make irrespoosible promises oor say tlúogs aboot the
world that will aroose false expectatioos and there[ore disappoiot. The
( motive o[ duty will, through education, he added to the already
( existing lnatives of self-interest and confined benevolence that led to
(
the conventioo being adopted in the fil'st place. This in tW"U will in-
crease the regularity oC behavioLU' that constitutes lhe conventioo oDd
{ thus strengthen adherence lo the conventioo 81110ng reasonabJe people.
( There may still, oC course, be occasional exceptions to the desirability
of strictly sticking to the conventiou. Thus oue may have to swerve to
the wTong side of the road lo avaid 00 aecident, tell a lie lo a would-be
murderer or make an insincere promüe to a rabber. OLle can, of cow'se,
S8Y tllat these are not so much exceptions to the conventioos as re-
finemeots o[ thern, for it is DOt in his privale capacity that the person is
( granted the exception but rather as a party to the conventioo. Aoyone
else in the some situation could bave done the sarne with ill.1IJunity.
(
The responsible language user has to learo objectivity. We Ulust
(... fix on sorne steady and general points of view; and always, in our
thoughts, place ourselves in thern J whatever may be our present silua-
tioo (ibid',PP.581-Z). Without tlús eapacity lo adopt standpoints
sbared wiLh othel-s 00 cornmunlcation about the world is possible and no
value judgments are possible. Hume says:
Experience soon teaches us this metbod of oorrecting our senti-
ments, al' at least, of correcting OUJ' language, where the senti-
luents are more stubborn and inalterable. Our serva.ot, if diligent
( and [ailhIul, mar excite strollger sentiments of love and kiudness
than Marclls Brll.tus, as represented in histol')'; but we say 110t
upon Ll1at account, that the former character is more laudable than
tite latter. 'Ve kllOW, tllat were we to a}Jproach equaUy oear to that
renown'd patriot, he ,,"ou'd command a oluch higher degree oí
afTecLiou aud adUlu-atiou. Such correclions are commOll with
regal'd to aU the se~es; and indeed 'twere impossible we cou'd
euer make lise o/ la/lgullge, or commullicate OUT' sentimcnts to olle
another, did \Ye not correct the momentary appearances of things J
and o\Terlook our present situALion. (ibid' J p. 582, my italies)
Language pl'esl1pposes a shared world where peapie check their lin-
(
guistic utternnces by reference to l'ublic cl'iteria. This, Hume seems to
( be sayiog, is a presupposition oí all use oC language and COillllluoica-
tion. Thu5 the understanding of expressioDs of likes and dislikes, that
you may 110t shal'e, presupposes tite overlooking of YOllr preseot
sitllatioD. You have to learn what kinds of sitllations license the use oC '1
PÁLL S.ÁRDAL
like x' as well as those that entitle you to say ex is good'. Indeed, lhe
development of the convention that gives rise to this dislioctioo 15 en-
tirely parallel to tIJe artificial vu·tues, so that it is part oí the virtue of a
responsible language-user not to say 'x is good' wheo he is ouly eotitled
to S8Y '1 like x'. To adhere to the conventiolls of lauguage io general,
aud llOt only moral language, is to possess a special kind of artificial
virtue. AH the users oí the language have a right to assume that n
speaker is intelldiog to eOllullunicate what the convenlion lays down.
Knowing v"hat his intention \'vill be token to be, the speaker has a duty
not to mislead, llOt to disappoillt. The development oC language tllus
gives rise to certnin rights and duties, aud the value oI the whole sys-
tem of linguistie perCormances is based upon utility. 'rhe sJsLem could
break down not only if deliberate lying became geoeral bot also if
people became so sloppy iD their use o[ langoage that the)' failed to
communicate eITectively, thus ensluillg that the social ends served by
language could not be achieved. Some linguistic practices, 5llch as Lhose
in volved in baptism and holy ordel's, are to be condemned bccause, un-
like promises, thcse practices serve no human needs.
As we have seen, language arises in a social cantext to satisfy human
needs. lt is withill this context of an already existing lallguage that
philoso[lbical s[lecolatioo llI-ises. \~'e aJl l1eed to re1y [01' successful
liviog 00 our geoeral beliefs aboot ao independeot world of relatively
stable objects alld regular events. But SOJue of liS \Vill pursue philowphy
sorne o[ the time. 'Tbose who have a propensity to phiJosophy, "iJl
still continue their researches; because they renect, that, besides the
immediate plensure, attending such an occupatiou, philosophical
decisious are nothing but the renections of common life, methoclized
aud corrected.'16 The continuous existence of on independent worlcl of
objects such as hats, shoes sud stones, must be taken fol' granled in aU
our reasoning. OI these we have impressions. lodeed, seen from certain
poiDts of view, tlley are iJnpressions and the mosL obvious way in which
\Ve could convince someone oC theil' existence is to poillt them out. To
produce au impressioll to show that OLlr words are rneauing[ul i5
nothing more than to draw attention to tlte COUditiOllS undel' which tite
releT"allt observatiolls can be lnade and tlle relevant experieoces ob-
tained. If we are dealing \ViLIl a simple characterisLic we produce the
impressioll. 'To give a child on idea oC scarlet 01' orangc, of sweet al'
bittel', 1 present tlle objects, 01' in other words, cOllvey to him the:::e im-
pl'essions; but proceed llot so absurdly, as to endeavour to produce Lhe
impressioos by excitiog the ideas' (Treolise, [l. 5)'
AnJone can, of course, be irrespollsible in the use oC Janguage, can
deliberately lie 01" take insufficient care not to mislead by \Yhat he sars.
The value of language as a means of communication depellds upon
(
66 COllvenliO/l and Value
(
( such praclices nol becoming too general. II they did, lhen just as pro-
perty would disappeal' fl'ol11 the scene ir properly rights wel'e generally
( neglectecl, and promises could Dat be macle ir no-one were caref111 lo
( keep them) so a11 use oC languagc, based as it is upan a comparable con-
ventioo, wonld fail in ils communicative function. The very existence
( of a language depends npan general adhel'ence to the conventioos by
( lhose lIsing it. Dile ma)' likewise observe thal just as lherc is no p1'O-
pert), in addition to objects oWllec1, there are also no meanings in
addilion lO the soundsJ "i5ib1e mal'ks and ideas tltat we use in thinking
and communicaling by the use oC language. But philosophers have
been pronc to use words in such a \Yayas to populnte the world \,yilh
(
mythical objects and powers. Tite clla11enge to produce lhe imp1'ession
( from which no idea is derived 1S nol of course the demand for an im-
pression in the past to be dragged up. This i5 for a11 time 105t, as Hume
him5elf rightly 5tl'esses. It is, he sa}'s, ' ... impossible to recall the past
1mpressions, in order to compare them wilh 0111' present ideas ...' (ibid.
p.8 ó )·
{
Hume, as is weU known, maintains thot a per.son who has Dot lIad the
opportunity to become acquainted wilh certain simple impressions will
not know the meaning of the tel'ms referring to these. Thus a roan
PÁLL S.ÁRD.'L
dearl)' wrong, and fire causes warmth. But if we reDecl we fmd \Ve are
constrained to think this; it causes us loo much pain to tbillk othel'wise.
The chal'ge that philosophers and othe1"5 sometimes use words without
any idea Ol" meaning is nol based upon tbe contention that they do not
have a certain image in mind when tl1ey use the word. "1tat the)' must
be able to do, lO meet the cllarge, 15 to point out the circumstances in
which the use. of the e>"'Pression can be learned. To lIse lanuuaue whh-
. o o
out seelDg t1115 as a reasonable challenge is to be nn irresp:msible partici-
pant in the mast important of a11 convention5 fol' social life, the con-
ventioDS oC language.
1. Norman Kemp Smilh The Philosop},)" o/ Da¡;id Hume (London: l\Jac-
millan &. Ca. 19.:P).
". Páll S. Árda! Pas.iioll and Yalue il! Hl~me's Trealise (Edinburgh Univer-
sily Press 1966).
3· PálI S. Ardal ISome Implications oC the Virlue oC Reasonableness in
Hume', Trealise, in Hume: A Re-Evaluatiol! (Xew York: Fordham
University Press 1976).
Antony Flew Hume's Pldlosophy ofBelief(London: Routledae aud Keaan
Paullg(1)p.22. o o

b01'11 blind will not know whot we mean by colour words. He can, to 5·
be sure, come to use the5e words correctly ifhe has experiences wllich are 6.
s)'stematicaUy related to colours. He may of course also have colour 7·
images, alLhollgh it 15 doubtful whethel' he can recognize them as sllch. 8.
If he ~a)'s that by 'red' he means t11e colour of pillar-hoxes and phone g.
booths, he will not be able to tel! whether lhe image be calls 'red' is an lO.
11.
image of tlJe same enloul'. The ehal1enge to philosophers whom one l!!.
5u5pects of using words without meaning does not consist merely in the
( claim thot they cannot have acquired an idea because they cannot have
had an impression. It is rathe1' being demanded of the1TI that they give
a description of a state of alTairs tbal will entitle them to say what they
sayo It is easr to be misled ir ODe thinks that Hume, in hunLing fOl" im-
pressions, is lookjng fOl" meanings. '\J\7here is the vice in murder? In the
mind of the judge who contemplates the action. \l\There is the necessity
in causal relations? In the mind of tbe persoo making causal inferences.
But this does not seem lo make sense. The 1'ea50n is that we ha ve here
a description of the situations in which we come to understand why
murder 15 called a vice aud why causal relations are necessary. Jt is not
thal Lbe feelings of disapproval in the case of murder and psycbological
constraint in the case oí causal inference alwa}'s need to be felt when
we rnake a moral judgment 01" a causal ioference; OUl' verbal pl'o-
l... nouncements come to be governed by rules so that we are car1'ied by
( habit straight iuto the making oI the verdict: murder, we say, is
Jonathan Bcnnett LockeJ Berkelex, Hume (Oxford: Clarenclon Press 197 1)
p.222.
Bennetl, p. 223.
Bennett, p. 234.
Flew, p. 39.
Flew, p. 37.
Enquiries, p. 19.
Enquiries, p. 506.
''Villiam AIston PhiloJophr of Language (New York: Pl·entice Halllg6+)
P·57·
Bertrand Russell The Allalysis af Milld (London: George Allen and
Unwin 1921)p. 190.
El/quiries, p. 506.
Dand Lewis defines a co-ordination equilibrium as •... a combination
in which no one would have becn better off had any olle agent alone acted
otherwise, either himself or someone eIse', COlluentioll (Cambridge: Har-
vard University Press 1969) p. 14. Hume, howe_er, sometimes suggests
that everyone would be better offif no-ene acls contrar)' to the conventioo
that gives rise to an artificial virtue.
Lewis acknowledges indebtedness to Hume for the sense of convention
he develops in his theory of language. (Collvelltiall, pp. 3-4) 1 do not, of
course, wish lo suggest that Hume anticipated Lewis' sophislicated
theory. 1\ly sole airo is to show thal the comparison Hume draws between
ule origi.ns of justice on the one hand and lanO"uaae on tlle other is sua-
.f.oo 00
geshve o a new a ut language which is quite different from lhe theory
o
of meaning orlen attributed lo him. \Yhether it is possible to find in Hume
a coherent theory of meaning at aH 51ill remains to be S.hOW11. 1 can cer-
tBinly not claim to have done so.

(
 (
68 ConvelLtiofl and Value r~ GEORGE DA VIE 69
(
16. Enquin'~~1 p. 16z.
I
(
(
1 am much inclebted to Queen's University al Kingslon fOl" ghing me lhe
Sabbatical leave during which 1 "Tote tltis paper, The Institute for Ad-
I
( vnncell Studics in tlle Humauities al the Un..iversity of Edinburgh for Edmund Husserl and
excellent facilities for work, and The Canada CounciJ for genereus finan-
( cia! help in tite [orIn of a Leave Fellowship. 'the as yet, in its most important respect,
Tbe errors and other imperfections of this paper would hat*e been more unrecognised greatness olI-Iume'
( numereus by [nr, if it had Ilol heen fOT the man)' l'"aluable discussiom 1
( had ",ith Dr J. J. Bricke al 'fhe Institute fOT Advanced Studies in Edin-
burgh during the ",jnter of 1975-1976. DAVID HUME'S QUALITY of concealing nnder the deceplively
( placid, apparenlly limpid, surface oí his philosophy, lhe passionate
ratiocination oí an inf=atiable thought that keeps on sprioging sur-
( prises and shocks J ",as already heing commented upon, in his OWIl time
( aad his own counlry, as a fact aU too liable to be overlooked, a century
(
aod a half befare Ed.ml1nd Husserl, wl"iting in 1929 ror a Continental
8udience, made his striking remark about Hume's real greatness as
( being still unrecognized in its lUost important aspecto It \Vas very much
( this same paradox oí the loughly cerehral core hehind lhe hland ía~ade
that Adam Smith had in view, when, in the very emphatie langu[lge oí
( his obituary letter, he ",aros us oot to be }lllt off by a11 that eas)' sociality
( ond good nalw'e ioto regarding Hume as, in A. E. Tarlor's n-ords, nol a
great philosopher butonly a ver)" c1e,-er mano IThat constant pleasantry',
( that 'gaiety of temper' J which is cso agreeable in society, but which is so
( often accompanied wilh frivololls and sU}Jerficial qualities, was in Ium
certainl.r attended with the most fe"ere application, the most exten-
(
sive learning, [and] the grealest depth oí thought'.' But the point holh
Adam Smith aud Ewnlllld Husserl are trying lo put, that, if \Ye ,,"ant
to get the most out of Hume, we must remember we are dealing with a
mao who to sorne extent hides his light, ,yho, intel1ectual1y speaking,
( keeps much more in reserve aud uncier the counter tIJan he puts 011
public displar-this point is perhaps most candidly and clearly ex-
<- . pressed by'lús chicC opponent Thomas R.eid. One tnust always benr in
(
mind, R.eid \Vas fond of telling his students, thnt in consolidaling his
( literaf)" reputation before the ,yorld ci\'!r Hume appears to have forgot
his metaphysics'. Anyone desirous oC fathoming the full depth or what
(
Hume has to teach liS I1111St go back behincl tite Ellqllil'ics to tIte dirricult
( pages oC the rout}¡ful work which it5 aulllor di50\'\'ued and which in
(
consequence was being left unread.
Howevel', it is not only that tIte leading rigw'es of the Scouish En-
lightenment coincided in thi5 general ,vay wilh Husserl in poinlillg
out that lhe real nalm-e of Hume's genius tended to be missed by his
proIessed admirers, especially those DI the emlJiricist campo 'YIHlt is
still more remarkable, Adalll Smilh, Thomas Reid nnd Edmund
,i Husserl are also reJatively close to one nnolher in lheir more particulnr
I

-L
( ,
Husserl alUllhe 'unrecognised greatness of J-Iwne'
(
cstimatc that LIJe grealness of Ilume lny in lhe originality Di his work
(
in pin-pointing lhe intellectual weakness oC 0111" civilization and in thus
( opcning lhe wüy lo a new stage in the dcvclopment of human culture.
(
'Vhen, [al' instance, Ad<lm Smith, in TIte lI/·eallh of Naliolls, speaks
of his friend as (b)' fal" Lhe mosl illustrious philosopher and historian of
( the pl'csenl age? he wasu't thinking merel)' oC lhe point explicidy
befare his mind-Hume's originality in seeing, long befare an)' Dne
(
cisc, lhe intimate conneclion between the spread of lhe market
( economy 011 lhe Dne hand and lhe establishment oC liberty under law
011 the otller. He was also acknowlcdgillg hi5 indcbted.ness to Hume rOl'
drawing attention, as nobod)' clse at the time was doing, to the deep
( amI daunting problem of lhe relation of our advancing economies to the
( science 00 which the)' depend, botIt in respect of thc considerable
danger, discussed in SmÍlh's Hislory of Astrollomy, oIsubordinating
the speculative, unverifiable non-utilitarian side oC science-tbe
creative side {what Hume caHs the imagination)-to tbe practical,
bread-and-butter side, and also in respeet oC the eqna1Jy real danger,
highlighted in Tite TYeallh of l\TatiOIl.s, DI the insidians growth, nnder
a h..ighly complex advanced civilisalioll, oC BU intelleetnal alomisation
in which lhe learned and the conversable, as Hume calls them (that is
to say, the polite part of society), get out oC contact with one 800ther,
losing in the process the sobet'ing sense of the common origin of their
( respective moues oC culture in what Hume refers to as lhe animality oC
tlie vulgar.
Moreover, Adam SmiLh's estimaLe of Hume from the standpoint of
( eLhical and social philosophy coincides very largely \Vith those of Reid
and Husserl fTom the stond-points oí their respective epistemologies.
(
As seen by Reid, the great achievement oI the deep-WTought, sceptical
( al'guments oí Trealise 1 \Vas to have bl'ought lulO tbe open the funda-
mental flaw that hacl entered into lhe intellectual structure of Qur
civilization at the time oC its bil'th in Greece and that hael not been ex-
l posed arrd elirninated by the greaL Cartesian reform-namely, an
e:xcess oI technical bias, which had, from the first, cut philosophy off
<..
from the p1ain man by divorcing it írom the realist standpoint of
l. cornmon sense. Exposing for the firsl time the realnature of this huilt-
in contradiction, the author of the Treatise, amid a11 the coníusions of
bis impressions aud ideas and wilhout exactly k.nowiug whal he was
(
doing, had prepared tIte way rOl' what Reid called the lthil'd age of
<.. humanity' -the Age oí Common Sense-which, advancing beyond
the previons two ages, the Aristolelian and the Cal'tesian, \Vonld at last
(
bring to an end the fatal division between the learoed and the vulgar,
l. by bringing to light a new a priori oC first principIes less simplified than
the Cartesian, less complex aud animistic tban the Aristoteliall. Shariug
l.
\..
l
GRORGE DA VI E 7'
Reid's epistemologieal standpoint but more favourable tban he to the
constructive side oC Treatise 1, Husserl seems lo be c1aiming, in a
manner very similar to Reid's, that Hume's significance as a key-
thinker lies in his showing the 'wa)' to ou.!' bringing to a n-iumphant ful-
fiJment the progl'amme for a pre-suppositionless philosophy, which had
been inaugurated, but not carried throllgh, by Descartes at the begin-
ning of the scientific era. Properly developed along phenomellological
lines, Hume's ITIucIt-questioned impressions aud ideas provided a dlle
for evol\"iug a new sort of material a priori capable of closing the gap, so
disastro\1s for Descartes' dl"eam, between the teachings of nature on the
one hand and the light oC nature on the other. Thus, just as for Reid,
the metaphysical passages in Treatise 1, which Hume preferred to
forget about in the Enquiries, or, for Sm.itb, the analysís of the rela-
tions of the leal·oed professions \"ith ]x>lite society, which Hume was
1ater to exc1ude froro his essa)"s? possessed the special significance oC
opening lhe way for a philosophy eapable of coping with the modero
version oC the intellectual atomisalion, which had been in part res-
ponsibe for the ruin of classical civilization, so in a some,,'hat similar
way for Husserl, 'the as yet, in its most important resl)ect, unrecognized
greatness of Hume' would seem to have consisted in Hume's vital role
in discovering an ÍJllellectual method 1hat ",ouId bring mto being the
critical inwardness requisite to offset the over-e>..trovcrt science of our
time witho\1t stifling its great qualilies.
JI we are to understand aright the general sense oí Hllsserl's high
claims as to the hidden depths oC the Humean philo50pby, we must, 1
believe, take him to be re-asserting in twentieth-century terros very
mucIt the sarne thing as Reid \Vas trying lo make explicit fOl" his scho-
larly auditors and as Adam 5rnith ,,,ras tl'ying to put over fOl' the serious
public at large: that Hume's rather sceptical attitude to the Baconian
schemes for modern civilization, far from sim})ly spotlighting the
merel)" practical difficulties of realizing the radical version of the
scientifie drearn, in i'eality is concerned wiLh bringing to light certain
fundamental difficulties oC principIe, epistemologlcal as well as ethical,
which jf uot removed would seem to make nonsense of tlle )Vhole ex-
perimentalist p1'ogramme of modern civilization. Looking back to Hume
from the standpoint of ou1' ccntury, Husserl thus, in sorne measure, re-
captures insights originally won by Adam Smith and Reid and lost
again by Bentham and tbe Mills-namely, tbat, while David Hume
certainly accepts as his starting point the post-renaissance scheme for a
science-based rene)Val oC civilization in which material advance was to
l,roceed side by side mlh inleUectual advanee, he differed very sharply
from the other standard-bearers of lbe Enlightenment, French as well
as English, in respect of the question of the relative importance of the
( I-Iusserl and che (wlrecognised grealness of Hume'
(
theoretica! elements in lhe programme as opposed to the practica!,
( refusing lo regard the theoretical problem as a simple and secondary
( one that aJready, in principie, had been solved, and uncovering the
scanclal oC the basic epistemologieal contradictions that made 0011-
( sense of aU the high claims about the Age of Reason. Thus, whereas
( adherents lo the experimental philosophy, whether the 'philosophers'
and associationists of lhe eigbteenth century Dr the lagical positivists
(
and linguistie philosophers oE the prescot age, tend lo be of the apiolan
( that the apIJlication DE seience COl' the practica! cad of providing a surri-
cient quantity of goods and shelter rOl' aU was nlOdern civilization's
(
primary practical task, hy comparison with which the merely theoreli-
( cal issues DE fOlluwng science OH experience ol' diffusiug its spirit
( tluough the society were oC very seconclary importante, presenting no
great difficulties of principie and safely left to solve themselves by
( laissez-fairc, the uniqueness oC David Hume, glimpsed by Husserl as
( well as by ,Reid aod Adaol Smith, consisled in his seeiog that the pw'ely
intelleclunl side of the l)roblems of civilization \-Vas not only as difficult as
( tiJe practical sirle but evel1 in sorne sense constituted the key to the latter.
( criticisms of tite English-language philosophy on which Husserl ,,"as
1 T 'V A S ONL Y al tite ver)' end oC Husserl's career that he gave to the
world The Crisis of lhe European Sciences, \-"hich, far more than an)' oC
his other books, begins lo make explicit bis developing affinity ,,-ilh
Reid and lhe Scottish philosophers, not onJy in respect of its drawing
attentioD, as they do, to the hidden significance of the overlooked para-
( doxes of lhe Trcalise ror the futtU'e of humanity, but even in respect
( oí its locating lhe roots of Ew'ope's scientific crisis precisely where the
Scottish school had located them-namely, in lhe reductive, atomising
( procedw'es fatefully illtroduced by Descartes' arilhmetization of geo-
( metry, AIread)', some fifty OI' si..xty years before the oppearance of the
Krisis in 1956, certain traces oC common-ground with the classical
(
philosopb), of Scotlalld, as developed in and through tbe tension between
( David Hlune and the Scottish geometers, ,,"ouId seem to have been
present at lhe very start oC ",hat was to become lhe pheuomeuological
(
rnovement-in Franz Brentano's lectures on the Trealise 01 Human
( JValure, \vhich Husserl would ha ve heard in his student days, Thus in
( the very decade-the se\"enties of lhe last centlu'y-when, anüd lhe
final decadence and disruptioll of the presbylerian polit)', tite inlellec-
( tual pre-eminence oC Edillburgh as a centre oC philosophy and science
<.. was overlaken aud overthl'owll by the risillg preslige oí th3 cultural
contribution of South Britaio, some of tite leading ideas o[ the Scottish
<.. school-espeeially tItose centring in its tradition of HUlue-scholarslJip
l but aIso some of tIJose cOllnected "ith its traditiol1 of a holistic malhe-
maties as reviewed by Hamilton's pupil Clerk-MaxweU in the PI'eface
(
1.
(
---l..-
GEORGE DAVIE 75
to bis epoch-making Treatise o/! Mag/!elism a/!d EllXtricüy ( 1875)-
migrated to t.he Continent to fiad a congenia! home as a provocalive
subject oí inleUectual discussion, in an Austrian Empire, which, alUid
a growing decadence and disruptiveness of a somewhat more spectacu-
lar sort than our Scottish species, was in the process oí becoming the
new hot-bed of "Veslero ideas.
Indeed, as far as central Europe was coocerned, tite widely influenlial
aud forceful books l)roduced in the England of those years wilh the aim
oí finally extirpating lhe Scottish pretensions lo philosophical eminence
-J.S, :i\1ilPs, An E:calTu'lIalioll. of Sir William Hamiltoll.'s Philosophy
(,865) and T. H. Green's Prerace to the Treatise of HlIlIla/! iValure
(1874)-bad the unintended effect of awakening in Prague alId
Vienna a cerlain interest in the very aulhors whom their lX)lemics had
intended to discredit, siuce in tite lortuous inteUectual milieu of i\Jiltel-
Europa, the metaphysical doubts and difficulties expounded by Hume
and by Hamilton, the last of the Reid sehool, in somo respects seemed
to have obout theol a deepor ring of realit.y than the eal'l1est exposi-
tiolls of the Bl'itish liberal idenL Accordingly io the discussions lllH.1
brought up, tbe key-figw'es, one Dlight sar, were RanUlton and Hume,
the men who, in the words of the forme!', were intent on re-im:talling
on his thrnue lhe good god Difficult)" ralher tllan lhe elhica)-millded
men-of-afTairs Like IVIill and Green who, it appears, were alwa)"5 right
on all the Trade Union issues oC lhe da)' but by whom the metophJsical
problem as such had been rclegated lo a ver)' second81')' place. Faced
with the enlhusiastic out-lxmring of th.is pair of high-minded polemislS,
the Austrians Iastened ",ith relief and curiosit)' on lhe problem of ab-
straction in Scoltish l)hilosophy as the one and only [eature oC it ahout
wlJich i\1ill and Greeu had a good word to say-lhe formel' singling
out .Hamilton's theory oí abstrnction by shifts oC atteutiol1 as the onl)"
decent tlling in his books, the latter lrentillg Hume's distinctiol1s of
reason theory as lhe only inlelligible item in the whole Trcotisc.
Stimulated b)' lhe Ilovelty oI what they found in Hume and llarllillon
on the subject, the Gennan-speaking })ltilosophers oI lile Brentano
circle concentroled on it to tIte neglect of everything else in l\Iill and
in Greeo, treoting the Scottish tension over lhe abstractioll 1'roblem as
lhe most significont item in lhe ",hole lrndilion of Uritish Empil'ici::m,
Husserl, a relatively slow developer, secms to llave beglll1, like olhers
of the Brentano 5chool, especially lVleillOllg in his J 877 )-flll11c-Sludics 1,
by tak:ing Homilton's side ogainst Hume io the controversr ove!" t1le
llature of ausll'actio[l, and the inlellectually creative period of Husserl's
life did nOl, one might say, get properIy going unLil, just aboul lite
I beginning oC the present century, he reacted againsl tite Hamiltollian
I
I
í
74 Husserl al1d lhe 'uflrecogmsed grealness 01 Hume'
(
ideas sponsored by lVIeinong, and swilched lo the Humean side, digging
( fOl" stimulus in the unread pages oC t11e Trealise and encom"aging his
( pupils to do the same. vVith that, things suddenl)' began to happen,
and fl-om then on his thought began lO move fOl'ward in 8 cmious]y
( double-sided pl'ogress, alternately historical and s)"stematic, by tUTOS
( hackward-Iooking and forward-looking, in which each creative c011tri-
bUlion lo the lwentielh-century problem of analysis was accompanied,
(
eonsolidatcd aud perhaps sometimes sparked off, by fresh discoveries in
( lhe hidden p81't5 of }-Iume's text, discoveries which sought lo gel
belJind the stel"eotype interpretations handed clown from HamBtan
(
and the final scholastic perlod of the Scoltish school. J n the lirst place,
( the emergence of the characteristically I-I1l5serlian theory of perception
( in and through lhe variatiolls of perspective views goes hand in hand
wilh the breal-thl'ough, in the Logical llluestigatiolls, lo a proper
( assessment oC the power and originality oC Hume's theory of abstrac-
( tion-an assessment which conected l\Ieinong's Hamiltonian mis-
conceptions ahant the distinctions oí reason doctrine. Then} in the
( seeond place} the llllveiling oC the material a priori by Husserl} as im-
( plicit in the theory of perception hy perspective views} is closely bound
up v\'iLh the appearance, in the years befare "Vorld 'Val' I} of a re-
\ markable paper by Adolf Reinach} to which Husserl, in his ohituary
( m'tiele on his pupil's death shortly aftenvards at the Front, ack-
(
nowledged the deepest debt for it5 achievement in having brought
home to him tlle real meaning of Hume's doctrine of the relation5 of
( ideas} that is to say of necessary truths, as having a genuine affinily
( with the ]lhenomenological type of malerial a priori developed by him-
seU, and as having in il nothing of the anal)'tical or tautological
( charaeter altribllted to Hume by Kant. '"fhen, in the third placel sorne
( twenty years later with the final assimilation hy Husserl of the import
of these discovel'ies in the Trealisc) and with the growing awareness on
(
his part of tite seminal role played b), Hume in Western philosophy, the
( 1929 edition oC the Yearbook for Fhilosophy and Phenomellological
Research contains oot on]y Husserl's Formal and Transcendental Logic,
\ then given to the world for the first time, but also, irnmediatel)' after
( it, the book-Iength artic1e 00 Hume by Husserl's English postgraduate
student, C. V,SalmoD, a Germanified Oxonian-tbe two V\'orks being
placed, side by side, in what 1 feel to be (given Husserl's editorship) a
juxtaposition of a highly significant character, Rere, lhe paradoxical
dietum about tthe as yet, in its most important respect, unrecognised
greatness' of Trealise 1, contained in the Formal alld Transcendental
Logic, has its meaning highlighted and underlined by being followed
up irnmediately by the pupil's lucid aud exciting demonstration that
the central problem of David Hume's philosophy is constituted b)' the
GEORGE DAVIE 75
impressively proíound struggle of the Trealise to 8nticipate, a centLU'Y
aud a half before its time, the central HusserJian distinetioD between
consciallsness of object snd object of consciousness, that is, iVoesis aod
¡Voema, which had grown out oC tl1e doctrine of pereeption br perspec-
tive views,
l\Ioreover, this underlying affinity of the central problem of the
H 11l11ean philosophy ,,;th that oC the Husserlian phenomenology, fir5t
diseovered by Salman under the lVlaster's supel'vision in 1929} and then
independentl), rediscovel'ed aud re-stated by another pupil Aran Gur-
wit::;ch, ten )'ears later l is not by en)' means the elld of the stor}'. In a
final bursting out berond Hume but tlu'ough Hume to recapture the
spirit oI the great pbiJosophical moyemeot of wlticlt H nme had been
the pathfinder and pioneer in the Scotland of his time, the book on The
Crisis oflhe European Sciellces l which is tbe crown of Husserl's career,
not only in effect re-stated in terms of ou1' twentieth ccntury the prob-
lem so ml1ch insisted 00 by the Scottish philosophers oí the classical
5chool as central to tbe whole movement oí modern civilisation, that i5
to say the problem oí the Dlora1ly disruptive effects oí scientific re-
ductionism as pre-figw'cd in tbe Cartesian algebra l (the problem of
guarding against the danger that nalural science, in the pride of i15
world-conquering expertise, may tW'n its hand agaiost the intellectual
standards to which it owed ils birth); bUl 1 in addition-what is jl1st as
remarkahle-gaye a new lease of liIe to lhe common sense critique of
5cientism carried thl'ough by the old Scottish schaol, and was indil'ectly
lO inspire 1 among sorne phenomenologists of tbe next generation 1 the
project of uncovering the lüdden excellence of the cheI d'école of
Scotlish philosoph)" Hl1me 1 s opponent Thomas Reid l in rnuch the same
\Yayas Husserl in his liJe-time had helped to uncoyer the hidden ex-
celIenee of David Hume, Looked a.l in lhis light l Husserl's final rears
left behind them the legacy oí a programme for a sort oí pbenomeno-
logical refurbishing of the philosophy of Scotland's c1assical age, which
\Vas, in the fu-st place, to be excellently implemented in France by a
classic artic1e in 1954 by Professor Maxime Chastaing of the Ul1iyersity
of Dijon, a one-time pupil of J-P. Sartre, on Thomas Reid, ¡he Phi/o-
sophy of Commoll Sellse and the Problem of our Knowledge of Olller
i\1illds, and also bore worthy ftuit at tbe otber side of the Europeao
Continenl, in Poland, in the book on Reid-both s),mpathetic and
5timlllating as commurucBted to me in conversatiol1s with the author,
Professor Hempelinsh), then oI Krackow-which, pl'oduced undel' the
dil'ection of Husserl's closest philosophical associate Roman Ingarden,
sanctions a sort of posthumous identification of I-lusserPs phenomeno-
logy ,vith Reid LO match the affinity affITmed in Husserl's lifetime of his
phenomenology with tbe philosophy of H nme.
( 76 ~J"
Husserl and llze 'unrecognised grealness 01 Hume' J.A.PASSMORE 77
(
f
Tllus, carried forward from its first beginniogs by tlle ~ io-~ !:
( tellectu exalemen arouscd by the discussion oí Hume and Hamilton
..>1'

( ~' -in- e Brentano ciJ'cle, ehiefly tlu-ough the work of Meinong, the
phenomenological movement has, in au indirect way, time after time
( sought fresh inspiration in a return to the ideas oC Hume and the
( Scottish school of commOD sense. 'Vhate,er value and inOuene
Husserl's central \York as a creative s),stematic philosopher has had on~
(
the English-speaking world, tltere can be no doubt of tlle inUuenee and
( value of this secondary and histo6eaJly 06ented work (for all tltat it was
n throw-awar spasmodic effort) in the dc-sedimenlation DI the Treatise
(
texts-in lh
\. \ \ . (I¡ ashm of the second-haud Hamiltonian stereotypes
( ;;;,1'
o ume-which, infiuencing that 1110St remarkable historian of
( philosophy, Norman Kemp Snlith, Dol only provided him with the
mc8n5 of transfonning bis earJy articles on Natw'alism in Hume into
(
tite magisterial works of his later )'ears 011 Tile Pln"losophy 01 David
( ¡-fume and the Dialogues, but also in the long run, by lhe spiHover of
Kemp Smith's inIectious entltusiasm fol' re-assessing the il1telleclual
( those beliefs whicll arise out of deliberalion-are (as l11uch ",itllin [lite
inheritance of the 'Vest, prepared the way for tite subsequellt realiza-
( !ion, 1l0\V at long last belatedly dawlling 011 the Scottish Universities
themselves, that there ,yas gold in tbe dung-hill of the common sense
(
philosophy as accumulated in the elassrooms of Scotland in the corn'se of
a fuil cellllllJ"s d.iscussion and re-wscussion of HUl"lle'S Trealise Book 1.
1. Lcltcrs, ii. 452.
2. Tllc JfTealth oJN(lti01l5, bk. v, ch. 1, pt. 3, arto 5.
l 'or Essay 1Vriting' in The Pllílosophicnllrorks oJ David Hume ed. T. If.
3·
l Green and T. 11. Grose (Lomlon 187+-5) \"01. 1 v, pp, 567-'70.
( cally impossible fo!' us to believe except as the l'eSull of an act of deci-
(
( silniIar. Tite lheologian, of course, concentrates his allentiol1 011 a par-
(
\.
Hume alld the Ethics of Belief
TUAT PHILOSOPJlERS differ is scarcely news. But rol' aH our fami-
liarity witlt their habit of disagreeing, the range of llteil' difTerences 011 n
.d particular issue is sometimes so great as still lo aslonish us, The re-
lationship belween belief and decision is such a case. At one extreme,
Bernard 'Vi.lIiams telIs llS that it is 10gicalIy impossiblc, incompatible
with the very nnture oC belier, to suppose that lVe can, in an)' case
whatsoevcr, decide to believe,1 At the opposite extreme, pescarles
argues that decision is necessarily inherent in the élct oI believing. (The
will', he wTileS, fJ.s absolutel)" esseutial for oUt' giving our assent to what
we have in sorne manuer perceived',2 Somewhere between these ex-
ltremes, Chisholm asserts that at least a particular class DI beliefs-
believer's] control as is an)' olIter deed we atlribule lo lIim'. 3 And he
claims Peirce as a predecessor, justifiably enough if we remembcl' lhal
J?eil'ce once wrole that (a dcliberatc, 01' seU-contl'olled, habit is pre-
,-c15elya bclief'.4 Indeed, tite pl'agmatic movement os o ",hole takes it
for granted lhat lhere are circuITIstances in which we can clecitle to
believe.
To sum up, lheu, we can point lo leading.pltiIosophical representa-
tives of the view (1) thut it 15 10gicaUy impossible for llS to decide to
believe; (2) that there are ci.rcumstances in which we can, and cir-
cumstances in which \Ve cannot, decide lo believe; (5) that it is logi-
sion. Diversity can scarcely go furtller!
On the margins of philosophy, in lheolog)', lIte positioll is ver)'
ticular class of beliefs, those which bear upon lhe existence and nature
of God. But for Locke and Hume, too, this class of beliefs is oI the first
imporlante, never far from lheir minds, Notice the \Yay in which, in the
Enquiry cOllccnu'ng ¡-fuman Und.crstalldillg, when Hume wants to

I
ilIustrate how beliefs can aJ'ise out of resemblance ancl causation he
( takes as bis leadillg exal"1.1ple of the fil"5t ftlle ceremouies oC lhe Roman
( Catholic religion' and of the secondJ lhe use by devotees of relics I to
enliven their deyotion' (Enquiries, pp. 51,53)' Save where they are
(
stock, a philosopher's examples indicate his preoccupations. So the
\. differences, at tltis point, uetween lhe il1lerests of philosophers and lile
interesls oí theologians are 110t as marked as one might at first expect.
\.
,
(
(
 (
( Hume alld lhe Ethics o/ Beliif
( Aud it is nal al a1l 5urprising lhal their opinions should subdivide in
( much the same manller.
Thcre is o powerful Chri5tian tradiLion to tite effect that belief ljes
( J. under ow' conu'ol, lhat we can sometimes properlJ be blamed fol' 001
( believing as we should, fOl" "wilfu.l misbelief', "rhen Clement of
Alexandl'ia tells liS lhat 'not 0111y the ~C?~i?t§.; hut tIle §tpg;s, soy th8t
( nssent is in OtU' power',' this i5 in arder to inyoke tl1ei1' authorit)' 00 hi5
r hehaU. Cardinal Newman took the same Yiew: 'assent is a free aet, a ...
personal act fol' which the doer is responsible'.6 In somewhat ~irrerent
(
theological traditions, Kierkegaard, like Descartes, supposes lt to be
( essential to belier that it is a free decision.' And fol' Tolstoy freedom has
(
no meauing J unless we are free to decide whether LO believe al' dis-
believe. 8
Aquiuas formulates the intennediate doctrine. Although, he argues,
( whcn the intellect is confronLed by wl1at is knolUll to be true, first
principIes Dnd the like, it has no choice but to asseot, in those situations
( in which it is faced with conflieting opinions it can asseut 'tlu'ougb an
! act of choice) wherebr it turns voluntaril)' to one side 1'athe1' than
1 8nother ' .9 More rigorolls, Augustininn theologians expeund the thesis
( thnt we have no control over our beliefs; faith is a gift of God) oI
( divine grace. So, making allowance for the tn)ical Clu"istian uncer-
tainties about grace and fl'eedom, the tbree majar alternative views we
discovered in pltilosophy are paraUeled within theology.
( At a ¿irrerent level, ordiñary usage seems to be on Lhe side of tbose
who argue that although we are someÜmes, as the plu'ase has it, lforced
to bclieve', in ot11e1" circumstances we can make a choice: as in 11 refuse
to believe ... ', 'I lile lo believe ...', 11 cannot bring myselfto believe
( ... ', tI prefer lO believe .. .', 'My present inclination is to believe ',
11 have made up my mind to believe ... ', 11 have decided to believe '.
( And although English usage is not decisive evidence for an)'thing
except English speech-habits, this wealth oC voll1ntarist idiom is some-
what sllrprising ii in faet it is logically impossible lo decide to believe._
(
Enough has by now been said lO suggest al least tbat there is so me
sort of tension in our lhioking on this }lOint: on the Olle side a pull
lOwards the view that, as a matter oi everyday expelience J \Ve can and
do decide lo believe; on tbe other side-for Bernard vViIliams by no
( rneans stands alone-a pull towards the Yiew that this i5 quite im-
possible, that although ,ye can decide to make our beliefs public, 01' to
keep them to oW'selves, al' to examine them, 01' to lcave tbem un-
examinedJ we cannot decide what we shall believe. And this is malched
by a parallel moral uncertainty, whether we caD properly condemn the
c.. '_
holding oí this 01' that belief, as Clifford 50 firmly maintains in The
c.. Elhics of Beliif-'it is wrong ah.. 'aY5, everywhere, aod fo1' eveJ'yone, LO
( J
J.A.PASSMORE
79
believe anrthing upon insl1fficient evidence'10_ or whetller beliefs lie
so far outside onr control as lO be no more subject to moral censure thao
is our breathing.
'Vhere there is so stl"ong a pulI in contrar)' direclions, we can cxpect
LO rind inconsistencies within the writings of individual philosopbers.
Locke is a case in point, which \Ye eannot 110W explore in detail- his
nrgument i5 very complex- but shollld at least illustrale. J 11 his Lel/er
Oll Tolera/iolL he is quite emphalic and uncompromising. 'Ve cal!...not
~ w}~a~ tQ believe-lto believe this al' that lo be true i5 not within
tite scope oE our , . .i ll'. 11 Oue can readily see ,,,h)' the anthor of a defenee
of toleration should want to take such a view. Jf men and women are
not fJ-ee to believe p ralher than q, titen they canllot be blamed fOI" tlteir ./
belieEs; to persecute them merell' fol' holding a particular ueHef would
be plainly unjust. But eyen outside the Letter on Toleralioll with ils
special concerns, there are roany occasions on which Locke no less
categoricall), denies tllat our beliefs lie under om' control. Yet he also
tell~ us that we oug/ll to regulate our belieEs in accordance with the
e,idence (Essay, IV. xvi. 1, D2: 569).11 Does not this lought' imply
lean'? Perhaps 'what Loeke meaos by levidence' is the evidence we
COl/Id have before us,l'atber than the evidence we do infácl have befare
USj perhaps he is urging liS always to make sure we have aU the evi-
dence before uso But it i5 nol so easy to set aside that pa5saae in which he
eA1JHcitll' lays il clown that there is a clas5 oí cases in ~vhich (assent
· •
suspense or dlsse11t are often voluntary actions' (Essa,'",] v. xx. 15; Dz:
454)· This is the class of cases in which lhe evidence fol' p, as 8o-ainst
the evidence for qJ 15 not decisive, but in which "ve are nonetheless
bound to come lo a eonclusion-the class of cases in which vVilliam
James also argued that we can properly choose what we sllall believe
It is interesting to observe, howevel', that these are precisely tlle cir~
CUIDSlances in which we are least inclined to blame anyone who believes
p rather than q; tbere is room, we then sa)", for an honest difference oí
opioion.
To come at last to Hume. Bernard 'iVilliams, we note, eounts Hlllne
as ~n ally., exce~t that Hume "Tites as ir choosing to believe is psycho--
logzcally lmpoSSlbJe, whereas ''ViIliams, in t11e manner typical of recent
~ritish. phil050phy, ':ants to argue tbat it is llogicall)" 01' 'coneeptually'
llnJ:>Osslble, that we Just would not count as lour beHef' an)' propostion
wluch \Ye knew, al' even suspected, \Ve had acquired at wiU.
One must grant to Williams that he is COlTeclJy describing tbe
general tenor of HumeJs reasoning. Consider, for example, the reduc/io
argument that Hume propounds in his Appendix to lhe Treallse. He is
tbere concerned to refute the view that a belief is dislinguishable fTom
other ideas in virtue oí its having 'sorne Dew idea such as that of
 (
80 Hume alld Ihe Elhics of BelieJ
(
reality or eXlstence' annexed to ¡t. And his argument runs thus: 'The
(
mind has command oyer all its ideas, aud can separate, unite, mix and
( / vary them as it pleases; so tbat ir belief consisted merely in a new idea,
( , annex'd to the couceptioll, it ""ou'd be in a man's power to believe what
he pleas'd' (Trealise, p. 6z5). There the argumeot eods, the re<iuclio is
( complete. lo other words, Hume here supposes it to be obviously absurd
( to hold that a mau has the power to believe what he pleases-that aoy
theory of belief which lea,es o]Jeo t1ús pOS5ibiJity can at once be ·dis-
(
rnissed. One cau easily ellough find other passages in his \vrilings lo a
( similar errecl. That belief i.s ~~tEi,Eg that happens to tlSJ rather tha11
sometlúng \Ve do, is implicit in his observation that 'belicf is more pro-
(
Jperly afZ acl 01 the sensitiue, than of lhe cogitaliue part of our nalures'
( ( Trealise, p. 185)' Tite sllpposition that \Ye can believe what we please
( is, he more directly tells us, (contrary to what ,ve find by daily ex-
perieoce' (Enquiries, P.48).
( Enough, it lnight \YeU be thought, has beeo said. Hume's position in
( respect to belief and decisioo is, to an unusual degree, indisputable. Yet,
dipping ioto'Hume 1 Echolars have sometimes supposed him to take quite
( the caulrary vie,v. lA wise mao', they read in Hume's Enqllirx con-I
( cenu'llg Human L-,ulcrslanding1 lproportions his belief to the evidence'
(Ellquiries, p. 110). Surelr '1)I'olx>rtioniog' i5 a cogitative act, if ao)'-
thing is! .c\nd is oot Htune: whcn he writes that sentence, exhOl-ting
; liS to decide oot to belieye until \Ye have examined tbe evidence-as ir,
! then, ,ye had the po\Yer, at least1 tO.JJ!Spe,~d.our belieE? If this be so, iC
we can choose nol to belie~e, does it not follow that belief is in some
measw·e uncler our control?
After all, \Ye might add, it is one thing to say lhat we cannot choose
ta belieye at \\ill, if \Yhat th.is means is tl10t we cannot, in respect oE eaclt
( are found to persuade us lo receive it as lrue, without cerlain kllowledge
aud every propositioll, decide whether to believe it or not to belie,e it,
aud quite anatller thing lo sar tltat in no circumstances can \Ve decide
whether 01' not to belieye a proposition. The first vie"" one can agree
"ith Hume J is quite contrary to experience, so muclt so that 1 doubt
l ,yhether an)' philosopher or theologian has ever seriously held it, al-
thollgh Ihey ma]" Io05ely have IYritten as if the]" elid. If the rain is
l
pelting down, 1 canuot simply decide to believe that it is uot raining,
any more tlHlll, Dostoevsky to the contrar)' not"ithstanding, 1 call
sim]Jly decide lo belie,e that z +. = 5. BlIt it does not follo,," that when
the evidence is inCOllc1usiye as bet\Yeen p and q 1 canuot decide to be-
lieve p ratller titan q, that tIJe judge's (1 haye decided to believe yon' Ol"
( the friend's '1 refuse to believe he could aet in that '''ay' are ttll-
l
I acceptable. Tbis is Ihe onl]" poiut that is reall]" in displlte-whelher
I RUIne e,er aillnits that, as Locke admitsJ there are some circumstallces
I in whieh belieE is '\"olttnterr. Oí tite eornmeotators on Hume, Price, for
I
l
I.A.PASSMORE 81
one, argues as much,lJ or argues at least that there are places in whieh
Hume's philosophical procedure makes sense 001y ou the assumption
that belier can sometimes be under ow' control. I-Iume's philosol)l1ical
practice, on Price's view, is to that extent il1consistent \-"ith hiU!!..echa-
nicalthC!lry of belief. A more straighúorward incol1sistency, as we have
aIready pointed out, is at least suggested by Hume's observation thnt
'the wise roan proportions his belief to the evidence'. So for aH that Ollr
initial telldency is to tlUnk of Hume, in Berllard "'\VilIiams' manller, as
an exceptionally whole-hearted proponent of the '"iew that \Ve believe
as we nU15tJ it is worth exploring the matter a little further-the more
especially as, if there is a degree of tension in Our oniinar)' thinking on
this question, we might expect to find it l'efiected, like most other such
tensions, in Hume's philosophr·
Let us begio by looking a little more ciosel)" at Uume's theor)" of
belief.l" One lhing that lllight surprise us at tite outset is that Hume
should so obviousl)' trnok of himself as a piooeer. No ooe else, he tells
~usJ has even suspected that there is any difficlllt)' in determining in
what belieE consists ( Trealise, p. 628). Vlle are sLU·prised because Locke,
to soy notruog of sllch of his predecessol's as Plato, had talkeu about
belieE at considerable length, even ir sometinlesJ like Hume himc:eU,
under the name of assent. But, Hume \Vould reply, neither Locke nor
Plato had supposed there to be 3UY eliITiculty attoching to the act of
believing as suclt-it was an oct oí the understollding and no more
need be said. He himselI \Vas the rirst to anatomize the act oE 1.>eliev-
ing, as distinct frolll lplacing' belief epistemologicnJly in its relation
to knowledge.
Consieler, in this light, LockeJs definitioo of belief: 'The ndm..itLing 01"
receiving [of] nn)" propositioll for true, upon orguments DI' 1'roof5 tllat
thot it is so' (Essay, IV. xv. 5, 02: 565). Hume ,,"ould object to this
definition on three grounds: the first, that vague phrases like 'the acl-
mitting', lthe recei"ing' conceal the ract tilat ,ye are DOt beiug lolcl in
whot belicl)ing comists; the secondJ tltat to define belief as mllllilting al'
receiving a proposition as true upon argll11Zenls or proifs wl'onglr sug-
gests tl10t our belieCs are aH oC them tite conc1usions of argulUents: the
third, tltat the pltrase ladmilting al' receiYing' -lreceiying' has here
the same force as in ltlte Ambassador received lhe guestsJ-makes it
nppenr that our beliers are accepled only nIter scrutiny, ,,"hereas in fact
they are automatic responses to particular forms of experience.
Hume can properly tltink af himse1f as ao jpnovatúr, then, in at
j least two respects: first, in jIeriniog 'belieP in purel}' ~Jchological
term~ as a vivid perceptioo rather than, along "itlt Plato nnd Locke, as
, a propositioo \Ve hold to be true 011 evidence less titan sufficiellt to
(
(
82 Hume multhc Ethics 01 Belief
constilute knowledge; and, secondly, in denying that beliefs necessarily
(
'", Ol" Barmall)' have their source in argument al' deliberation.
( VVe can see al once how sharply Hume differs from his predecessors
by Jookio17 al his initial account of belier in his second, eonsiderably re-
vised, dis~ussion of 'the senses and the memor}'. cThe belieJ al" assenl
(
( which always altends the memory alld the senses', he there informs us,
lis nothing but lhe vivacity of lhose pereeptions they present . . .'
( Treatúc, p. 86). Locke had al'gued that the sen::;es give us knowledge;
Hume n;lI have none of lhis-they offer us beliefs, the belief that
( something is the case. And thi:; has the consequence that a helier has
I a1l1he immediacy, allhough not t11e infaUibility, of an intuitionj it does
( 110t rest, an)'more than rOl' Lod.e knowledge need rest, on arguments al"
( proofs. The \Vhole process is spontaneons, completely involuntarYi a
vi vid pe1'ception is at once a sensalion al' a memo1'Y and a belief. The
(
belief 'attends' our memory and senses ool as an iuference from them
but as an aspecl of thel11. This is true, he laler argues, even when the
beIicf depends rOl' its existence 00 a constant conjunction of expe1'iences,
as distinct from a single experience. 'The belief, ,·vhich attends the pre-
sent impression, and is produc'd by a number of past impressions and
conjunctiolls ... arises i.mmediately, without an)' new operation of the
rcason al" imagination' ( Treatise, p. 102).
Fu1'ther lo ]JOillt the conl1'asl belween Hume and Locke, we can dJ'aw
attenLion lo the faet that in Loeke's o.ccount of belief t"'o distinct fac-
to1's have always lo be kept in mind. First, the objective probability oi
the proposiLion to which we give our 8ssent; secoodly, the degree of
assu1'ance we altach lo lhat proposition. Ideall)', aod in large part in
faet, those t\'\'o are proporlionale one to another. vVhen they are not,
l lhis is because we get OHr ca1culalions wl'ong: 'the íoundation of error
( willlie in ,·vrong measures of})robability' (Essay, IV. xx. 16,02: 456).
I10w such errors can aI'ise, how men can be so attachecl to faIse beliefs,
(
is a question that deeply troubles Locke; he tries to explain such per-
versity in a variely of ways. Bul in every case, certainly, the degrec oI
probability is one thing, lhe degree of assurance quite aoother.
In a familim' passage, Hume sweeps aside Locke's Janus-like analy~
sis, and with il aU Locke's problems about how degrees of assurance can
come to be dissociiited from degrees of probability. 'Tbus .11 probable
t:;asoning', he writes, lis nothing but a species of sensation. 'Tis not
solely in poet.1'Y and music, we must follow our taste and sentiment,
but likewise in philosophy. '~"hen 1 aro convinc'd oí aoy principIe, 'lis
I only .n idea, which strikes more strongly upon me. 1'Vhen I give the
preference to one set of arguroents aboye another, I do nothing but
decide frOlo my feeling concerning the superiority of their infiuence'
(Trealise, p. lOS). This makes it look as if Locke's problem-ho\V \Ve
-- J.A.PASSi\rORE
can have a degree of aSStU'ance which is not conIormable to tbe pro-
babilities-ought not, for Hume, to so much as arise. The question
( makes no sense. Fo,. the probability mul lhe degree of assurallce are by
the lIature oflhe case e:raclly the same lhing.
There are, however, distinc'l oddities in Hume's account of ",hat
happens when 'we find one sel of arguments more convincing than
anolher. '1 decide n'om ID)" feeling" he sa)"s. This makes it sauad as iI
something like the following happens: '1 ask m)'self: "'Vhich is the
more vivid, rny idea of pOI" m)" idea oE q?" 1 decide that pis more vivid
than q. Therefore I decide to believe po' But if I thus 'decide froro my
feeling', as distinct from simplr feeling, titen a cof!'Ítative act 15 central
lOt1ieWllole anal}'sis. A thorough-going mechankal theor)' will bave
to argue, rather, that whal we caU 19iving the preference to ODe argu-
ment over another' simply consúts in a more vivid idea somehow
- driving out a less vivid idea. If Hume does not say tbis, it is not merely,
1 think, beca use he has momentarily fallen into the Ianguage oi the
Ylugar; he has a picture in the back of bis mind, a pieture which he
canoot entire]y expunge, of a human beiog's hesitating between two
alternative views J uncertain which to accept, and finany deciding
between them. Hume moves such a deci:,ion from a decision about tbe
strength oE evidence to a decision abOl.lt yividness. To Ieave it entirely
out oí account would be to do altogelher too much violence to the facts.
One may add, too, that as Hume's argument proceeds lYg pegin to
)Yl!!lde1~yhllther h~ ljoes i" fael identif), prob.bilily "ith degree of
~-ª-nce. As 1 interpret Hume, this is one of the points at wItich therc
is a conOict betweell Hume lhe moral scientist-Hl.lme the mitigated v'
sceptic-and the Pyrrhonian Hume.
Consider his distinction between 'E!!i.Iosophical' and 'unplii]osophi-
,cal' pl'obability. The ground for such a diSlinction, one would oaturally
be inclined to suppase, is lhat the first, lhough far L'oro being demon-
str~live, generates belieEs that are rational, while lhe second generates
behefs that we are not justified in holding, which \Ve can be blamed, 01'
at least rebuked) for persisling in. Hume the PYl"l'honian scel)tic win
not permil us to make any such d.istinction. In this spirit, he argues
that plúlosophical and unphilosophical probability involve the same
psychological mechanism. In each case 811 that happens is that our idea
is vivified; tbere is no rationa} ground for preferring the philosophically
vivified idea to the lmphilosoplúcally vivified idea. Yet under tbe head
I ~nplúlosophical probability he includes what he ealls ;p;:-elüdice' and
illustrates too by the example of a person who having met one dis-
honest Frenchman fU'mly beIieves, in consequence, that a11 Frenchmen
are dishonest. A Pyrrhonian would delight in the conclusiOD that it is a
mere prejudice on our part to condemn beliefs arising iD such a fashion
(
(
Hume alld lhe Elmes of Beliif
r I.A. PAS$MORE
I
as prejudices. But Hume the enlightened, Hume the moral philosopher,
( wauld by no means ,,-elcome it.
For the moment, 1 shall not carry this line oí argumeut any further.
( suggests that this is at least one way of describing the distinctive
Let liS return, rather l to I-Iume's phrase, 'the belief attenmng the
( ~ memory and the senses'. It is more than a little strange to speak oí
(
'belie!' in this counection. (1 believe 1 once went to Cambridge' would
normally suggest sOlnething quite different from Ir renlenlber going to
( J Cam.bridge'-an element of hesitancy lJud doubt, a failure to remem-
( ber, Ol' at the very least to rernember clearly. There is a similar element
of hesitalion, normally, in '1 believe there is a m8n on that hiH' as Com-
( pared with (1 can see a mntl on that hiH'. Oue 1ua)' ",eU doubt whether
( I the traditional diehotomy-either knowledge or belief-is refined
r eno'..igh to cieal with such cases. But HUll1.e is suggesting that even if ''''e
(
ordinariJy suppose there is a difference oí the sort that om' choice of
( language in these instances suggests, that is, om' choice oflremembering'
rather than (believing', this suppositioll is erroneous; we aTe believing
(
when we remerober or perceive quite as mnch as ,,-hen vve go beyoucl
( ",hat we can either remelnber 01' perceivej the word 'remembering'
( serves oo1y to indicate the kiud of belief that is in question.
1'0 believe, for Hume, is to take something to haveoccurred (memory
(
(
(
i Ol" retrodictive causal inference), to be occurring (sensatioll), al' to be
about to oeeur (predietive causal inferenee). That he thinks of belief in
this way explains why, in the ~1ppendi_"c passage 1 have aIread)' quoted,
when he asks whether believing could consist in anuexing another idea
( to fln unbelieved idea and so con,+erting it into a believed idea, the
candidates that come at once to his mind are 'reality' aod (existence',
(
rather than let us say 'asslu·ance'. To say that belief is nothing but a
( vivid idea is, for Hume, to say that taking x to exist, 01' to be about to
( exist, or 'lo ha ve existed, is identical with Izaving a vivid idea ofz.
At this stage in Hume-criticislTI, we l1eed not describe in detail tite
( difficulties Hume gets into when he tries to give 8n account of this
( (vivacity' 01' the \Yay in which he gradual1)' \Yorks tOWill·d.s the some-
what different "iew that a belier is 'difrerently conceived' from other
<- ideas. 'Ve can set aside the fact, too, that as his argument proceeds, he
( OffCl-S much nillTOWel' dennitions of belief, whether as 'a livel)'" idea
relaled lo 0'- associated wúh a presellt impression' ( Trealise, p. 96),01' as
\. arising only fronl cilusation (Treatúe, p. 107)' These variations, lhese
( difrerentiatiolls of the genus 'vivid idea', beal' witness to the fact that he
is Ilot, in every mood, happy to identify (a poetical enthusiaslu' and (a
(
sel'ious convictioul~as he did identify them when he wrote that ((tis
( Dot solely in poetrr and luusic, we must follow our tnste and selltitnent,
( hut likewise in philosophy'. Serious c011victio11S, unlike poetic enthusi-
asms, m·ise, his second thoughts suggest, only when our belief is associ-
l
(
(
ated with a preseot impl'ession or eveu, his third thoughts sugge5t, on1y
when it arises out of causation. But he is not going back 00 his view
that belief, whatever else it is, is a vivid idea; in the Enqla'rx he still
character of a belief. For our purposes it does not greatly matter whetber
it can also be described as an idea (conceived in a cel'tain mOl1ner'-
wbatever this can luean on a Humean view-or eveu r as sorne of the
things he says in the Enquiry might suggest, as an odd 501't of sellti-
ment, rather like lave and bate. It is euough that belief, 011 any such
interpretatíon, is still sometlúng which we find ourselves wil!I, which
happens to uso So [01' hrevity's sake let us hold fast to the vivacit)'
analysis, vvith the rider that the alternative expression-'mallner oí
conceiving' ~surely suggests that a belief is, afte!' all, cogitative rather
r than seositive,
Consider in the light of this üualysis o[ belief I-IUl"lle'S observations at
the very end of Baok 1 oí the Treatlse. He is there asking what general
conclusions he can draw from his argument as a whole. (The inlcnse
view of these manifold contrAdictions And imperfections in ht1l11an
renson', he ""rites, 'hns so yvrought upon me, and heated m)' brain, that
1 HIn ready to reject all belief anu reasoning, and Can look upon no
...: opiuion even as more probable 01' likely than another' (Trcatise, pp.
268-9). '1 am read}' to rejeet aH belief .. .'. What can this possibly
mean? It might mean somethillg like this: 'l\'Iy braio is so heated as a
result of tuy considering contradictions that 1 no 1001ger have uny vivid
ideas.' But Hume lnakes it perfectly clenr that this is uot at all ,·yhat he
means, He is complaining, indeed, that his ideas are 0111)' too intense,
only too vivid; otherwise he would have no problems. He has to dine,
play back-galTImon, converse, make melT}' with his Iriends before his
sceptical views lose their vividness, turn fcold and stl'ain'd and ridi-
culous'. "Vhen he is (read)' to reject all belief' tlús cannot mean, either,
that he is ready to stop himself from having an)' vivid ideas; that is inl-
~ possible. 'Vhat he is readr to do is sOluething quite dirrerent: tto 100k
upon llO opinion as more probable 01' likely than another', And this
brings out the fact that having a vivid idea and looking upon an opiniol1
as probable are not after an the same thing,
It is nOloriollsly difficult, oI cow-se, to determine whut Hume ,,-ants
to say about the degree to which, when we are philosophising, \Ve can
succeed in not believing, 01' can suspend Otll" belief abollt, whnt ('It other
times, so he tells us, we camzot hclp believing~nalure 110t ltaving left
to us the decision ,,"hether lo believe or 110t to believe. ls 'Ve need onl)'
insist UpOl1 one fact: Hume certainly presumes that w-e can at least
question our beliefs eveu wheu they are extremel)' vivid. So far, as
Price argues, his philosophical- practice is not consistent with his
( ¡: 'J ¡-fume al/el the Elhics of Belief
86 /'
(
(
philosophical theor)'. For 'questioning ti belief' can~ot ~lean asld~g
ourselves whether it is really vivid 01' reallr conceIved 111 a certalU
( manner; that is not the 501'1 oC thing that can be doubted. 'Vhat eIse
( lcan it mean) lheH , except asl~ing oUl'selves whether it is reall)" pr{'lb-
teble? So being vivid alld beillg probable canDol be ideotica!' This 58 me
( conclusion ",ouId seem lO follo,," [rom anúlher, particularly striking
( passage in the Appcndix. 'A ... reOeclioll 011 general rules', he there
tells liS, 'keeps U5 fmm 8ugmenting Oll)' helief upon every enCl'ease oC
( If, on this interpretation, a roan can be condemued, and lie open to
lhe fOl'ce and vi\-acity oC on!" idells l (Trealisc, p. 632). So to believe p
( ralher lhan q is HOL) after aH, equivslenl to having a more vivid idea of
p than of q; we can have a more vivid idea of p and yet /lO/ helie\'e it;
(
t}¡~,:~~:t;:~~ l;~~:::~ :;n:~~:;~;~a~ ~~1~~: ;,;:,~:~o,n~~ll~'e~:~~'~~;~;~~'~;cal
_!!gita~ioEs are subdued. But at the same time lt bE'CO~ne5 morE' aod mOl:e
1reactioD)
evident tbat he does not consistently thlnk of belief as an autamatlc
over ,\-hich we have in no sense au)' control. A long note
( appended to his discussion lor the Reason of Animals' (ElIquiries) p.
107) brings out this point ver)' elearly. Its placing is interesting. Hume
( . . . l is ready to ascribe belief to animals. After aH, they can remember,
anticipate. That) not possessing language, the), cannot give assent to
.} propositions might lead a Locke to conc1l1de otherwise, but not a ~~me.
( Bl1t is Hume really prepared to say that the beliefs of animals, vlnd as
lhey can douht can be, are in every way as good a5 the heliefs of human
beings? And this can be absorbed into anotber question: Are the beliefs
of one man quite as gooel os the beliefs of another? He is not no\\" pre-
( pared to answer 'Yes', Yet if all probable reasolling is nothing but
( sensatioll, there does not seem lo he lhe slightesl ground fOl" denying to
animals, al' to the foalish, beliefs as rntionol 05 thase of the wisest mao,
Can Hume , con5istently 'with his theo}')', avoid Lhis canclusion?
As a sce¡ltic , he mio'ln
o 1l0t wi:Jh lo do so. But in fact he makes the
attempt, poillting to llot one ground of distillction but many. After
lengthy experience wise 111ell, he says, becoming accustomed lo the
uniformit)' of nature, acqllire a general habit of arglling from the
kllown to lhe llnkoowl1. After leven olle experiment', the)" 'c},:pect a
(
similar eveot with some degree of cerlaillty, where the experiment has
beeo roade accurately, aod free from aU foreign circuITIstances' (En-
quú-ies, p. J 0711). vVhen lhere is a complication of causes, again, tbe
wise man is belter thao the foolish man at considering the 5ituation as
a whole, seeing wbat goes with what. The fonuing of general maxims,
lOO, is a delicate business; un]jke the prejudiced, the wise do not allow
themselves to be led 8s11'OY by haste 01' narrowness of visiono .And 50 OO.
I So we can certainly say this much at least of Hume: he does not
1 iDvariably think of our beliefs as the aulomatic product of custom. He
j
J.A,PASSMÜRE
allO'\ys that a wise man) when he encollnters PI caD e>"'}lect r rather than
q because he has examined the situation earefully) not just because r is
more vivid than q. So far:aileast, betief can be ~oO'itatiYe
o rather than
sensitive. Bllt this still leaves it open to Hume to argue that, once the
\\;se man has done bis examining, his idea of r is automatically vivified
-even if not, it would seem, by anr oi the !ll"OCesses Hume has
explicitly described-without its lying in his power to prevenl this
from happening.
moral censm'e, for believing q rather than r, it ",;U be fOl" the reason
Locke most ofien 5UggestS: he has oot looled carefull}' enollgh j he has
failed to examine the situation as adeqllately as he should have done.
E"en in this case , Hume slrongly suggesLs, lhe fact that sorne men are
better endowed thao othE'rs) have better power5 oC altention, observa-
lioD and memor}', has the consequence that to blame men fol' holding q
rather than r lvould be like blaming an animal becallse it cannot
}n-edict ao eclipse, But this is surely DOt the whole story. For it does not
seem possible to explain, purel)' in terros of natural endowments, wh}'
sorne meo) attentive and observont, con..fronted by a pro:ticular set oí
evidence) accept it as a proper foundation rol' believing q aud others do
nol. 'Visdom is not the same thing as having good 'faculties' of the sort
Hume enumerates.
Now at long last we reach tIle crucial passage: 'a wise man propor-
tiolls rus belief to the evidence'. But before examining it) let liS look
first at the irnmediately preceding senteoces: 'Sorne events are found,
in aU countries and a11 ages, to have been constantly conjoined together:
Others are found to have been more variable, and sometimes to dis-
appoint OUT expectationsj so that, in OUl' reasonings concerning malter
oí fact, there are aU imaginable degrees of assm'ance) from the highest
certoioty to the 10we5t species of moral evidcnce' (Enquiries, p. 110). Ir
this stood aIone, \Ve could read it in terms of the mechanical theor),.
Those ,
conjunctioDs tbat are invariable, we mio-Ilt
o
take Hume to be
saymg, produce extremely vivid ideas in us-\Ye have a vivid idea oi
the effcct whenever the cause occurs; alher conjunctions are more
variable and tberefore produce less vivid ideas. IOur reasonings con-
cerning matters of fact' should Lhen be read, in the spirit ofPyrrhonian
scepticism, as (whal we are pleased lo call our reasonings 1 ,
Then 1 however, it \Vould be absm'd to go on and say that 'the wise
man proportions bis belief to the evidence 1 • Let us attempt a Humean
lrans1ation. lA wise roan is one tbe liveliness oí wbose ideas correlates
with variatioD5 in bis experience'. But on the interpretation \Ve olTered
above, tbis correlation applies to eueryone 1 s beliefsJ tbe foolish as mueb
as the wise, to animal beliefs as much as human beliefs. To translate in
(
88 Hume alld ,he Ethics of Belief
(
such a manner, then, wouId be entirely to rule out the obviously in-
(
tended conlrast between the wise man aud the foolish mano 00 the
( face oí it, it is only if \Ve are being called upon to think of the \Vise mao
( as one wltO has first looked al lhe evidence and then deCLded what to
believe-or al least ha\\' strongly to believe-that Hume is telling us
( anything at all distinctive about "rise meo.
( It is interesLing to observe th8t tltis pronouncetnent about the '\Vise
man' preCaces Hume's discussion oí luiracles-interesting because in
(
discltssing miraeles Hwne is talking about lhe elass of beliefs lhat most
( concerned Locke, t1105e in which \Ve accept, ol' reject, somebody's
te;timony. ('Vhere Hwne's cautionary remark.s for inquirers have so
(
far llu'ned around the 811alysis oC causes, Locke's, rOl' the 1u05t part,
( tlU'U around t11e criticisLU oC witnesses. 16 ) No doubt, hnU-realizing that
he has shifted his ground, Hume attempts to assimilate arguments
(
Ú-OLU testimony to causal argulUellts. To readers who not uUllaturally
( boggle al this assimilation he replies in a notabl)T off-bond maDner: '1
( shall DOt dispute about a word' (Ellquiries, p. 111). lt is enough that
just as there is no uecessary connection between cause and effect, so too
( there is no necessary connection bet\''Ieen a testimony and its truth.
( But a good deal more is iuyolved thao a word. 1t is, indeed, a lnost im-
plausible view tbat we come to uccept certain testilnonies ollly as a result
(
of ha,illg experienced a COllstaot conjunction betn-een testimonies of
( that type 811d the truth. 1mplausible in tenus of Hume's general
( thear)"; what exactl)' is 'the truth' in such a conjunction? El11pirically
implausible, too. At first, in fact, a child automatically belieyes what he
l is told; what he acquires as a result oC experience is a tendency to be
( more critical of testimon)", more hesitant in accepling it.
Hume recoguizes, indeed, that ou!" tendency is to aecept testimoll),.
l "·e have, he says, 'a rcmarkable propensit), to believe ",hatever is
reported . . . however contrary to daily experience and observBtion'
(Trcalúe, p. 115)' But just hon- remarkable tl1is propeusity is, on his
as::imilatioll oC arguments from testimony to C<lllsual iufere11ces, he does
110t pause to coosider. For his real concern, once more, is "ith tite
procedul"es of tite wise.
"·hen, again, we Bl'e sus.picious about a testimany, ,ye do nol pro-
ceed to examine it with tIte hell) of the rules HUl"ne la.'-5 cluwn fol'
~ 'judgi.l1g oC causes and eITects'. \re consider, as Hume hilll5el[ tells us,
11 the character of the witnesses, the initial plausibility of ,,-l1at the)' say,
their remoteness in time fmm the events and so on. lf it be replied, as
Hume replies, tilat in doiug so \Ye re])' on such.experience-ba::ed maxims
8S are implicitly appealed to in 'The lady doth protest too much, me-
thinks', tbese marims, once more, are oot causal; the falsit,- oC what tite
lady says is in 00 sense a cOllsequcnce of her multiple pl'olesting to· the
J.A.PASSMORE 89
contrary. No doubt, we may come to believe that what she says is false
as a consequeoce of her protesting so much, but the maxim 'thoso
who protest too much often make false statements' is not ilself a causal
maxim.
In the special case of mirac1es, so Hume tells us, what I do is ask my-
self whethel' it is more pl'obable that the witness is either deliberately
deceiving me, 01" is himself deceived, than that the events he describes
really have occw·red." '1 weigh the one miracle against lhe other; and
according lo the superiorit}·, which 1 discover, I pronoWlce my decision,
and alwa}" reject the greater miraele' (Ellqlliries, p.116). This is
Lockeiao in tone; there are two sets of probabilities, 1 weigh one against
the other, discover that one is superior to the other al1d then ....
'iVhat follows the 'and theo'? Hume is sufficiently derinÍle: '1 pro-
nounce my decision'. lf this is the rigbt way of putting it, then 1 decide
to believe that the testimony is false rather than that tlle mirade
occurred. True, he rUl1S on thus: IIf the falsehood of his testÍn10ny
would be more muaculous, than the event which he relates; then, and
not till theo, can he prelend to command rny belief or opinion'. This
might suggest that once \Ve look at the facts, they determine the out-
come, as Locke supposed, and leave us unable lo make an)' decision,
commandec1 as \Ve are by the facts to believe in a particuJar way. But
",hat, then, is the force of 'pretencl' in 'pretend to command'? Does it
not suggest 'properlJ' command'? If so, then Hume is saying that \Ve
oughlnot to prefer tlJe testitllony to the beliefs we have derived from
e:\1>Crience, that the wÍse man will not do so.
Let us take still another look at Hume's descriptioD of wllat bappens.
'1 weigh the one against the other', the testimon)' against the likeli-
hood. 'Vho is this II'? Hume is certaioly not describing, purely and
simply, what he himself does as an individual. Just as when he wrote n
litde earlier that '",e frequentl), hesitate concerlling the reports of
others' (Ellquiries, p. 112), he is a spokesman for the \Vise man-thnt
'me man ",ho lends fa very academic faith to every report which
favours tbe passion of the reporter' (Ellquirz'cs, p. 125). A P)'l"rhonian
is, in principIe at least, an egalitarian; for him one view is as good as
another. But in tite j8l-g011 of our o,,"" da)'s, Hume was an élitist. AI-
though there are points at ,,,-lIich he scepticnll), writes as if the "",ise aud
the foolish ",ere in exactly the same positiou, passive vicLirns of their
experience, th.is, as \Ve ha ve already seen, is not at all his invariable
opinion. And in this section of the Ellquiry, it is 110t his opinion at aH.
Then is Hume simply describing the beliefs of those meo we choose LO
call I",ise'? vVise men's ideas are enlivened by constant conjunctions,
foolish men's beliefs have other sources. That is lhe end of it.
At certain points in the Trealise Hume tries to adopt this merely
( .,..
go Hume and lhe Elhics oJ Beliej
(
descripli ye alliLude: he is the elegant eighteenth-century speetator;
( eontemplating from hi5 coffee-house lhe strange aulies of the passers-by.
( 01', if we like, he Is lhe phenomenologisl telling liS what is included in
our concept oC wisdom. Dul if thi5 were the wLole story, his enterprise
(
wOllld be pointJess. Far he is arguing againsl those ""ha accept mirac1es;
( he is exhorLing the 'wise and lcarned', the 'judicious and knowing' J jI
nobod)' cIsc, lO become more 5eeptical. True, he would nal expect to
CQllvert ~lhe vulgar}; like Gibbon, he has a strong sense of 'man's
knavery and folly'. But ir his arguments are vaUd, then il \\"i11 be
wrong for the ",;Se, al lcast, lO accept lestiman)' fOI" mil-acles.
Confronted by Clifford's diclum that lit is wTong always) ever)'"where,
and for everyone, lo believe anything upon insufficient evidence',
Hume might, in his more sceplical moods, reply: IEvidence is sufficient
if in facl it induces L'l'len lo belie,·e; to say that it i~ '''ITong fOI" men
to believe on insufficient evidence is to say that it is wrong for lhem to
believe in circumstances in which it is just not plssible for them to
believeJ • But al other times, 8nd especially in the $nquiry, his reply
(
would be very different. The vulgar, he would the~y, do not examine'
evidence; their beHefs are enLirely the product of ltducation ' . It is Dot
wrong fol' them to believe on insufficient evidence; that is how they are
made. But the wise) if only as a result of experience) develop critical
( bridge 1968)pt.), PrincipIe XXXIV.
principIes) 1general rules"18 which enable them to propol'tion tl1eir
(
belief to the evidence. At this point, however, levidence) does not
mean simply 'lhat which engenders vivid ideas'; lhe wise resist the
( influence oí their education, they resist vivid but implausible stories,
( they weigh evidenee. And if they do not do this they aet wrongly. For
'there is a degree of doubt, and cauLion, and modesty, which, in sIl.
( P·3 60 .
kinds of scrutiny and dedsiol1, ought for ever to accompany a just
<-. reasoner' (EnCjuiries, p. 162).
In the end then, Price seems to be right. II men's beliefs \Vere as
( 19.,.6) pp. 35-6.
8utomatic as Hume sometimes suggcsts, if they were a1ways, pure1y
( and simply, the pl'oduct of custom operating upon the imagination,
many of Hume's philosophicnl procedures would be quite fl'uitless.
There are times, certainly, when he suggests that this) by their very
nature, is theil" fate; inevitably, we shaIl in the end ignore what he has
taught us) submitling lo OUT senses and imagination ( Trealise, p. 269)'
lt is certaialy no part oí his object to convert men in general into
sceptical philosophers, especially those honest couotry gentlemen who
represented Hume's social ideal-'employ'd in tbeir domestic affairs)
01' amusing themselves in common recreations' ( Trealise, p. 2.72). But
(
he does want to destroy superstition; if philosophy is often ridieulous,
50 he teIls liS, superstition is both ridiculous and dangerous. That is
precisely what leads him to write as if it is both passible and desirable to
J.A.PASSi\rDRE
sland back from OUI' vivid ideas, to decide, in cert.ajn ciI'Cumsl8DCeS, not
LO couot them amongst our beliefs.
Hume , one might tlleo sey, is trying to persuade U5 to adopt a lbelief
policy': the palicy of exantinjng critically aIl beliefs which 3l'ise from
sucIl suspect SOl1rces as 'edl1cation', that is , our upbringing. To that
degree he is suggesting that howe\'er vivid Bn idea is, we ought to be
prepared to set it aside) temporarily at least. Thu5 to set it aside is not, oí
course) the same thing as deciding to believe its conu'ary. But it does
mean that belief lies in sorne measw'e under Ollr control; we can
deliberatel)' preyent ourselves {rom believing, eyen when we are
strongly tempted to believe. And this is how \Ve ought to behave. Those
\Vho adopt a different paliey, for example the paliO)· of aeeepting what-
ever they al'e told, al·e properly subject to censure. So far) at least, there
is an 'ethics ofbelief'.
The paper originaBy arose out oC my supervision of a ph_D. lhesis on
BeJief by D. R. NaultYi it owes a good deal to discllssion wilh. him and
w1th my ca-supervisor, Dr E. Curley.
1. Bernard 1Yilliams Problenu ofthe Self(Cambridge ) 973) ch. 9.
2. René Descartes Principies of Philosophy) lrans. Ross and Haldane (Cam-
3· R. NI. Chisholm 'Lewis' Ethics of Belief' U1 P ..-\. Schilpp (ed.) Tlle
PhilosophyofC. J. Lewis(La Salle '968)p. 024-.
4· lPragmatism in Retrospect' (c. 1906) in JlIstus Buchler (ed.) TIa: Pllilo-
soplly ofPein-:e (London 194.0) p. 280.
5· Clement of Alexandria Tlle Stromata o,. llliscel/allies, bk. 1I, ch. 12, in
A. Roberts ami J. Donaldson (eds.) Alltc-N"icelle Fathers (lVlichigan 19 62 )
6. J. H. Newman An Essay in Aid 01 a Grammar of AHent (repr. New York
1955) p. ] 89·
7· S. Kierkegaard Philosophicnl Fl'agmellts, transo D. F. Swenson (Princeton
B. L. Tolstoy The Killgdom ofGod is lVi/hin Y01~, Conclusion, Section 5-
g. Summa Theologica¡ ll, 2, ep. 4. In the cml, this is what Descartes aIso
wants to sayo See E. M. Cut-ley 'Descartes, Spin02.3 and the Ethics of
Belief' in E. Freeman and 1\'1. Mandelballm (eds.) Spinoza: Essays ¡,~
IlIterpretalioll (La Salle 1975) pp. 165-6.
10. 'V. R. Clifford 'The Ethics of Belief' in Lectures and Essays, vol. JI
(London 1879) p. ,86.
i 11. Jolm Locke Lelter Ol! Toleralion, ed. R. Klibansky, transo J. 'V. Gough
(Oxford 1968) p. 2.). The Latin reads: 'Ut hoc vel iUud verum esse creda-
I mus, in nostra voluntate silum non est'.
12. References to Locke: Essar Concerllillg Human Ullderslanding wiIJ he
I ahbreviated in lhis forro: 11 V. l.."Vi. l' means 'Book.l\', chapter xvi, section
) j Dz: 369' means the second voJume, page 369 of the two volume Dover
I
I
I
edition, New York 1959.
H. H. Priee Belief(London 1969) pp. 239-4-0 .
(
92 [-[ume alld lhe Elh"cs of Beliif lSAlAR BERLlN 93
(
14· On1r in outline, howe\""er, and merely touching upon its inconsisteucies
( and nucluations. Foe a fuUer account see John Pass more Hrune's 1n-
telltio'LS J rey. editioll (Londan 1968) passim, but esp. pp. 94-1°4.
(
'5· Compare my discussioll of Priee in Hume's IlltentiollS p'- 148 .
J

( 16. Not enliJ'cly, oC course. But in relative detail. Compare Locke's Essay.
IV. Xv, 4i 02: 365-6.
Hume and the Soul'ces
( '7· This is a misleading short·hand account oC what Hume 5ays, but detail
wouId be out of place here. See, roc Ulat detail, Antooy Flew Hume',
oi Gel'l17an Anti-Rationalism
(
Philosophy of Belicf(New York 1961) ch. VIII.
.8. For some of lhe problems Itere see Hume', Itllentio1lS, pp. 62-4. THE SUBJECT ,iVITH which 1 intend lO deal is , unlike the other issl1cS
(
discussed at this conference J central neilher to Hume's thollght, nor to
bis intellectual development, nor to his liCe, nor to the "orld in which
he Iived nnd wrote. IVIy tapie is concerned with certain ideas oC Hllme's
(
in connection with his innuence on, 01' rather, the use made oC thelll
( by, a grollp of thinkers who, in luost respecls, uttedy rejected a1l that
( Hume believeu and stood foro The movement which they formed is, 1
think, best described as the German Counter-Enlightenment, \vhich
( reached its height towards the end oC the eighteenth centul"Y. Two, at
( least, oC its leaders, Johonl1 Georg Ramano ond Friec1rich Heinrich
Jacobi, saw Hume as nD out and out enemy, but, nevertheless, one ",ith
a difference: n mnn who, however little he may have inlended it,
( supplied them with weapons, both oITensive and defensive, ngninst his
close philosophical allies, the Frcnch Encyclopnedists, wllom aboye all
(
others tltey wisIted to conCule. Their use oí some oC I1ume's \vritings,
if he had conceived of ils possibility, would almost certainl)' have
astonished aud, iodeed, horrifiec1 their author; the moral and intellectual
distance bet,,"een him and these Gel'l11an irrationalists cou.ld scarcely
( have been grenter. The history oI ideas is not withollt ils ironies.
( It is a cOIDlnonplace, which 1 do not need to labour, tltat tite cllltUJoc
of the 'Nest in Rume's lifetime was largely dominated by the ideas of
( the French Enlightenment. Whatevel' the differences that divided the
French philosophes and thcil' disciples in ather countries (and these
differences \'Vero deeper aud more llumel'OUs than is oCten supposed),
there existed nevertheless a \Vide consensus: it rested on al1 acceptnnce
oC what \Vas, in effect, a secular ven;ion ,?f the old natural la\\' doctrine
according to wltieb the natm'c oI things posse<::sed a permanent, UJl-
alterable structure, differences and changes in the ",orld being 5ubject
to universal nnd immutnble laws. These ]aws ,,-ere discoverable in
princil)le by the use oC reusan amI coutrolled observation, of which tlle
methous DI the natural sciences coustituted the most success:ful applica-
lion. The most powerful instrument in the acquisitioll of knowledge
was held to be mathematics. 'VlIether tltis was due to the Caet that the
basic structurc oC reality was itseU such that mathcmatics was nn
abstl'act l'epresentation, 01' s)'mbolisaliou, oí it, 01', nlternaü'-ely, whether
mathelnatical methods \'Vere no more than the most relinble meaLlS oI
(
Hume muZ the Sources of German Anti-Raliollalism
(
( recording, predicting, and t11erefore eontrolling nature whose real
charaeter remained inSCl'lltable, was a less crucial issue than what
(
follm'ved f¡'om either assumption: namely, th8t the true path to know-
( ledge was 1h3t of the natural SCiCIlCCS, that is lO S3)", aH statcmcnts with
c1aims lo trulh musl be public, communicable, testable-capable oí
(
ycrifjcation 01' falsificalion by methods open to aud accepted by any
( l'ational invcstigator. From this it followed lhaL an other types of
authority werc to be rejectec1) and in particular such founoations Di
(
faith as sacred texts, divine revelation nnd lhe dogmatic pl'onounce-
( ments oí its authorisecl interpreters, tradiLioll, pl'escription, immemorial
( wisdolU, ]wivate intuition and a11 other forms of non-rational Ol" tl'ans-
cendent SOUl'ces of putative knowledge. This principIe was heId to apply
( to both the human aud the non-human world: to abstract disciplines,
( such as logic or mathematics) to t11e applied sicences which estahlished
the laws of the behaviour of inanimate bodies, plants) animals aud
( human beings, and to the normative disciplines which revealed the true
( natUl"e oí ultimate human goals, and tlle correct rules oE condllct,
public and privale, social aod political, moral and ae.5thetic. According
(
lo this doctrine, a11 genuine questions were in principIe answerable:
( truth was one, error multiple; the tl'ue answers mu5t of necessity be
(
univel"sal and immutable, that is) true everyvvhere, at aH times, for a11
men, aud discoverable by the appropriate use of reason, by relevant
( experience) obseryation and the methods of experimellt, logic, calcula-
( tion. A logically connected struct.ure of rules, lnnos, generalisations)
susceptible of demonstralion 01") at leasL in practice, oí a high degree oI
( confirmation (and, whel"e requlred, of application appropriate to differ~
( ing cil'culTIsta-nces) could, at least in princip1e, he constl'ucted, and
could repInce tlle chaotic amalgam of iguoranee, laziness, guesswork,
( superstition, p)'ejudice, dogma, fantasy, and, aboye all, what 1 think
( Helvélius caned linterested error', which euabled the cunning and the
strong to dominate and exploit the stupid, igno1'lll1t and weak, and had
(
throughout human history beeu largely l'esponsib1e for th.e vices, follíes
( and 111.iserie5 of mankind. Only knowledge, that is, the growth of the
(
sciences, could rescue mankind frmn these largel)' self-ioduced evils.
Some believed that ce1"lainty in empirical maLters was attainable, other5
that no more tllao high probabiliLy could he achieved i sorne were
( pessimistic about progress towards virtue 01' happiness) otbers \'Vere
more sanguine. But the majority of the philosophes ,,,'ere agreed that if
( irrational passions could be eontrolled, aud iguorance, prejudice, fear
( aod greed diminished, an end eould be rnade to the W01'st confusioos in
human thought and feeling, whieh led to blind fanaticism in thought
(
and savage ba:rbarisD1 in pracLice.
This faiLh in the powers of renson and science was by no means
JSAIAH BERLIN
95
uni versally held, even in Lhe mid-eighteenth centnry in 'Vester n
Europe~at least noL with equal confidence or fervoUl': it was regularIy
assaiJed by the insidious doubts of seepties, by the hostility of lhe
orthodox defenders of the authority of Church and State, by the
defenders ofvarietYl individual and cultural, and ofloeal alld traditional
values, as well as by the champions of the artistic imagination Ull-
trammelled by universal ru]es and regulations, who, by mid-century,
had begllo to attack the citadeh of neo-classicism. Neyel'lheless, it
would not, 1 belie\'e) be ioaccm·ate to say that the central tradition of
the Enlightenment rested on the assumptions of which 1 ha\'e sllpplied
so over-simplified and crude a SUl11111ary. Despite pIeas for historieaI
understanding and the celebration of Lhe beauty and strength of early
epi~ poetl")' by such eritics as van lvluTalt, Bodmer and Breitinger in
SWllzerland, Lowth, Blackwell aud the 'Vartons) fathe1" and son, in
England, 8nd, most oí a11, by the Iounder of histol'icisffi) GiamlJatti:;ta
Vico in Naples; despite the growing iuterest in the Bible as the national
epic oí the Jews, in lIorner as tl1e voice oí the eotíre Greek peo])le, in
the sagas oí the Norsemen and the Celts, in oriental literatures, in
Shakespeare and I\1i1tol1, io íolk-song, myths, legends aud, aboye all)
diyerse cultural traditions which could uot be made to nt ioto the
criticaI strait-jackets provided by the Parisian arbiters of Laste) this re-
aclion remaioed largely confined to the province of literature aud the
arts; the central ideological edifice oí the Elllightenment remaiued
relatively unaffected. The fint formidable attack upon it, llllcompromis-
ing, violent and fraught 'with lasting consequences, came from Cenn-
any. This is not the place in which to tr)' to elaborate 00 the many
factors which led to this German backlash against the French cultLU·al
domination oí the Western w01"ld. It was certainly not unconl1ected
,"rith tbe anLi-rationalist currenls in the Lutheran Refol'matioo j nor
"vith the relative-cultural as weU as economic-deprivation of
German-speaking po}mlations in tbe hundred years that foUowed
Luther's revolt in centrast to the great cultural nowering of ItaIy,
France) England, Spaiu aud Lhe Low Countries, which bred in the
Germans a growing consciousness of their Q'\>yn provincialislTI, and w1th
it a sense oí iníeriority, deepened b}' the disasters of the Thirty Years
,~rw:. 1 aro not a social historian. 1 am DOt qualifjed to speeulate on either
the roots or tl1e effects of lhe inevitable rise oí resentnlent aud wounded
self-esteem in German territories, particularly in 1'e1ation to France,
then in the full pride oí its power, wealth and artistic achievement.
Yet even to the eye oí an amatew' it seems obvious that this condition is
not unconnected with the rise oí Pietism) one of the most introspectiYe)
austere and self-absorbed oí all the inoer currents of Lutheranism. Tbe
Pietists, profoundly unpolitical in temper) contemptuous of the world
--
( 96 Hume tllzd tILe Sources o/ German Anli-Rationalisrn
(
and its varieties, sought direct columunion of the individual seu! with
( God. Liable to extremes of both emotion and seU-discipline, they
( tended to be susIJicious oC hierarch.r J ritual, lcaroing and rational
speculation-as against the living voiee DI lhe indiyidual conscience
( with lts absolute sense oC moral aud spiritual duty, inrallible guide in
( the unending batde in aud for the son1 of sinful man between the
,,-ord of God and the temptations of the world, the nesh and the devil.
( Pietism was particularI), strong in East Pru5sia, where the attempt by
I Frederick the Grent, in the middle years DI the t>ighleenth cenLury, to
ll10dcrnise that backward aud semi-feudal province wilb lhe help DI
Freneh-speaking officialsJ was resented aud resisted among the clevaut,
( conservative population. l\Iuch of this senliment was probably at the
root of the revulsion agaillst the materialism, utilitarianislll, ethical
(
naturalism aud atheism of the French lumieres which one finds in
( such thinkers as Hamann, Lavater, Herder and, indeed, Kant him-
self. They and theu· disciples Jacobi, Fichte, Schelling, Baader, wel"e
in fact the pltilosophieal wing oí German cultw-al resistance move-
( ment~C tite Sturm Ulld Drallg, oC lpre-Romanticisrll' and, indeed, of
( RomanticiEm itself.
Let me say something about the mysterious figLU'e oC Hamann, the
l\Iagus of tite North, as Kant and otl1ers ha,-e caBed him, who was,
perhaps, the most inOuenlialleader of this emoLiol1nllr charged, basie-
aIly religiou5 opposition, aman described as the first émigré oC tlle
Atúkliirung: the leader oC the Vendée oí the Enlightemuent. Boro in
)730 in Konigsberg, he recei,'ed, like his older frielld and one-time
patrol1, Kant: a strictly Pietist upbrillging. In the ) 7505 aud 60S he was
Iooked upon as a promising roung publicist in the senricc oí tlle German
( Allfkliinmg. He first macle his name ,úth a translation of a French
( treatise 011 eommerce, aecompanied by a disquisition oí his own on the
efTects oí tradE', and the social value oC merchants. He admired Lessing,
\Vas taken up by rvIoses l\lendelssollLl, :L\icolai and the other leaders of
( liberal Gennan cultw'e in Berlio; K.ant aod his Criends had high hopes
of their }ouog protégé. However, dm'iog a brieC SOjOUl"ll in London in
) 757-8, Hamann went tlu'ough a spiritual crisis, returned to tIJe
Pietist faith oC his eady years, and eatue back to Kauigsberg a con-
vinced oppouellt of the Enlightenment. During the rest of his life-he
died in 17B8-he published a series of yioleut attacks upon scientific
matel'ialislll, universalis111 aud secularisll1. Tltese were writtell in an
idiosrncratic, obscure, rhapsodical, sybilline prose, fuJl of at times Ull-
traceable allusion~, private jokes, elaborate puns, luealldering digres-
sions into dark paths, which appear 10 lead nowhere in particular; all
rhis in langllage which he doubtless in tended to coutrast as sharply as
possible with the, to him, now detestable elegance and brilliance,
<..
(
15AIAH DERLIN 97
shallow clarity aud spiritual emptiness of the habitué. of the Paús
salons- blind leaders oí the blind, meD cut off from the true, the inuer
liIe of mano He was by temperameut oot merely indiffereot, but deeply
opposed, to those who seck to find SOrne intelligible Ol-der in the
universe, capable of being reduced to, and communicated by means of,
a theoretical system. He belonged to those thiokers (perhaps more
often found east than west of the Rhine) whose hatl"ed of tidy, rational
schemas leads lhem to look fOl" the exceptional and the irregular, if only
because these serve to undermine reliaDee 00 general laws, 3nd to
confute those \Vho suppose that tlley can catch and arder tlle teeming
variet)' of reality within their artificial conslructions. l\Ionist, dualist,
pluralist systems were, for him, equall)' delusive chimeras, efforts to
confine the ul1confinable, contain the wildly eonflicling, unpredictablc,
often chaotic, data of direct experienee, and reduce thero to regularities
and s}"mmetries br means of logical 01" metaphysicallinks- he descri bes
them as walls of sand built lo hold back the waves DI 8n acean.
A more pl'ofoundly 8nti-scientiJic 01' anti-rational outlook can
scarcel)' be concei"ed: all kno",ledge ror IIamann can be obtained 50lely
tbrough direct confl"Ontation with reality provided by lhe senses, by
instinct, by the imaginatiol1, by the irnmediate, ullcontradictable in-
sight of the poot} the lo ver, the lTI811 oí simple faith. Bis favourite
qllotation is COl"inthians 1.27-IGod has chosen the foolish things of
the world to conIound the wisc'-lhat is, Descartes, Voltail"e aud their
disciples in free-thinking Bedin. Like William Blake, Hamann believed
that truth is always particular, never general; genuine kuo\Yledge is
direct, gained through some species of immediate acquaintan.ce; the
senses, outer aud iuner, do not refe!": they presellt data directly) and aoy
attempt to organise such data into systems c1istorts tlieir concrete
aetuality. 'To cut the cord uetween fnith and the senses is tIJe fir5t
symptom of our upside-down t)'po of thought.'l nelief (in Homann's
sense) is ca basic instinct (Gnmdtrieb) without r.'hich "ye could not oct
at all'.2 "'orcls are symbols \Yhich convey a voiee speaking; they are
either a method of cornmunication between real persons, immortal
souls, al' tbey are mere mechanical devices, the c1assifying instnunents
of an impersonal science, Hamann was a passionate Christian pietÍ.5t,
and believed that lUen had 01' collld have direct e:\l)erience of God,
everywhere and at .. ll times: the words of the Bible were Godls voice
speaking directly to them, and so WDS the ",hole oC natLU'e to l1Jose who
had eyes to see and ears to hen!'; so, loo, ",as the Itistory of mankind,
which was adivine Janguage to convey spiritual truths to an Ull-
trammelled under~tanding, 110t colTupted by the formulae oí the
sophists oí Paris. It ,,"as 1l0t \Yords tl1at ",ere the maio obstacle lo tite
vision of reality, as Bacon, Locke, Berkeley had maintained. Direct
(
( 98
¡']wne and lhe Sources 01 German Anti-Ralionalism
( pereeption was rar more violentIy ~isto)'ted by. concel~tsJ the~r~es,
( s)'stems; such book-keeper's clevices ml~h~ ~lave the~' uses m orgamsmg
or conu'oHina economic Ol" political actlV1t1es-regtons that no longer
( interested H~rnann-but they failed lo reveal the real world. They
\Vere mere lictions, enria ralionis, man-macle durnmies, mistake~ly
idenlifieJ wilh tite real WQI"ld. 0111y insight whkh sprang from feeling
( -al its heighl, from love fol' a persan 01' a thing-eonld revenl and
( illuminate. It was ool possible lo lave the ghostly net,,"ork oC formulae,
general propositions) laws, concepts and categol'ies tl.18t lhe Fre~ch
(
philosophers had erected between lhcmselves. and l'eahl~. !he lask .of
( lhe philosopher was to explaill JiCe in 011 l~S contra(~lctlOns, alt. lts
pcculiariLies l not lo smoolh lt out, Ol" substttute Io~· 1.t hypostaused
(
abstractions, idealised enLities l nseful, perhaps, IOl" hnllted .end:i, ~llt
( figmellts. God is a poet, Dot a mathematicianj (on~y splde.rs_ hke
Spinoza' make systems that Shllt out the real ,,"orld, catch flle::J and
(
build castles in the air'.3 lVfen ha ve mistaken words for concepts, and
( concepts fOl" realities. No system, no elaborate construction of scientific
fYeneralities will in Hamann's view, enable aman to understand what
b d rloe
is conveyed " by a gestUl'e, ~ ~ook, a tO_D~, a style , ?1: to unde~"Stan,~a
of poetry, ti paintiog, a V1SI0D, a spu'ltual collrntlOD, an elat d a"!e , a
form of life-how can tueo, caught in such 'webs of nbstractloDs,
achieve communion with tbeir Iel1ows, still less with God, who speaks
lo them in the simple human language of the Bible, in the burning
words of inspired visionaries, oI nature, an~ oí history, ~f onl)' men
knew how to look and to listen? \iVhat is realls a1ways particular; what
(
matters is the llnique, the individual, the concrete, that thereiu a thing
( differs from other thious' for that is ils essence and its poinl, aud not
1:1 , r
( that which it has in coml1'1on with otlJer thiogs-all that the genera lZ-
ing sciences seck to record. 'Feeliog alone gives t~ abslra.ctions and
( ment, certaJn y Dol b)f the constructions ol'the scienlists, which are , at
hypotheses hands, feet, wÍngs'.4 God speaks to us In poctlcal wor.ds,
( adill'essed to the senses, not in abstractions fol' the learned. l\1en hke
Kant (an intimate íriend) suffer , he tells US, from a 'gnostic hatred of
malter? re-8JTange rea1ity ioto artificial patterns aod liv.e in a world
oC figments. Systems) Hamann iusists over an~ over agam, are mere
prisons oí the spirit) they lead uot ?uly to ~alse ld~as ~ut sooner al' la~er
to the creation of huge bureauceallc maclnnes, built In accordance W1tb
rules which ignore variety) tbe unique, asymetrical lives o.f men). ~nd
force living creations iuto the mechanism of some represslve pahuca!
systern, in the name oí sorne intellectual chjmera J unrelated to tbe flow
oí bistory 01' the rcnl1ives 1ived by meno To understand a man) a group,
a sect, one must grasp what shapes them-'the union oI ~anguage,
tradition and histol'Y'. Every cauet, every scllool, every profcsslOl1) every
sect) has its own vocabulary. How does one enter them? Witb tlle
(
l
JSAL\.H DERLIN
99
passiou of a f.riend, like a lover, an intimate, witb faith, 110t by meaos
oí rules. Reality is an unanalysablc, d)'oamic, changing organism) in-
capable of being represented by the stauc metaphors of malhematics
and the natural sciences. AlI absoIute rules, aH dogmatic precepts are
fatal: they mar be. needed in the conduet oí ordiDar)' life) but nothing
great ,,"as ever achJe,-ed by [o11owino- tl1em. The Eno-lish
1;). o critics , Young
aboye aH, had rightly .maintained th3t ol'iginality entailed breaking
rules) lhat every creatlve aet, every transformina insiaht could be
' d ouly by setting aside tbe commauéLnents " of "the, 8lTogant
ol)tame
masters of thC01'Y: Hamanu declared that rules are ljke vestal virgins;
unless they are YJOlated, there will be no issue. N[)ture is no ordered
whole: so-called sensible men are blinkered beinus who walk. ""ilh a
fil'm tread because they ore bUnd to the true and p~ofoundly distm·bioO"
charneter of realily, sheltered from it by thel.r man-made conlraptions~
if .they glimpsed it as it is-a wild dauce-they would go out of the~
mlnds. How dm-e lh858 pathetic pedants impose on tbe vast worId oí
continuous, fertile) unpredictable, divine creation their OWll nanow
dessieated eategories? There is no knowledge save hy direct pereeptio~
- 8 dU'ect sense of reality which Hamann cal1s G/aube, faith, thc direet
capadt}' which aH men have for unquestioning acecpt8nce of dala and
Dotficta. 6 Faith is anaJogous to sight 01' taste-lhe playsical senses olfer
me my immediate e"perienee of the physieal world, ",hile faith-
Glaube-is needed to reveal to me my inner life, as ",ell as the mean-
ing of ",hat ot11er5 sny to me by means oIs)'Dlbols) gestw'es, ritual aets ,
works of art, books or nny otber expression oI the imaPinalion 01' the
passions. Glaube is for Hamana a kind of sense· Iaith like lhe seoses
" ,
co?not be ~'efuted by reason, 'ü is not its creatul'e'; its Iindings need no
eVJdene~, lt does .nol rest on grounds, it is not subjecl to duubt; it may
be cleluslve , but lt cannot be corrected by en1culation or ralional lIrrrl1~
, l
b
best, mere practical devices for utilitarian purposes, which say nothing
to lhe soul or the senses tlu'ough whieh alone God aud nature speak to
us. 7 The wiseacres of Paris, like their allics in Berlin J who dissect
natme , deal wilh dead mattel': they know a great deal alld understand
Uttle. 1\lan is not born to reaSOD, but to eat and éL'ink and procreate, to
love and hate, agoni!;e and sacrifice and worship. But they know noth-
ing ~f trus in Paris, where tbe monstrou5 cogito has obsclued the
'sublime sum'.
Hamann attempted no less than a total reversal oí the values of the
Enlightenment; in place of the ahstl'aet and general he wished lo ¡,laee
tbe particular and the concrete: in place oE the tbeoreLical constructions
stylised patterns and idealised enLities oí tbe philosophers and scienlist~
-the direct1y given, the unmediated, the sensuous. He was in the
(
100 [-{Ilme and lhe Sources of GermalZ Anli-Ra.lionalism
(
( strict sense oC the tenn a reactionary, that is, he wished to retoro lo nu
older tradition of tbe ages of faitb: quality in place of quantity, primacy
( oí the gi<en, not of the analytic intellect, tbe immediately perceived
( secondar)' qualities, Dol the inferred primary ones; the free imagina-
liaD, Dol lagie. Bis deepest conviction was of tLIe indissolubility oí spirit
(
aud malter, the SenSllQllS sud the spiritual attributes DI mao, aud oí tbe
( omnipresence oí God, transcendent aud personal, Dot the de-persollalisetl
\Vorld sou! oC the pantheists, Ol" the remote Clockmaker-the rationa1ly
(
demonstrated, somewhat shadowy Supreme Being of the deists.
( 1 have tried to convey tbe general drift oí this most unsrstematic
(
fatber of German R.omanlicism, with his revulsioIl against the French
raúonneurs sud rus celebratían of the irregulars oC lile, the outsiders
( sud vagabonds, outcasts and visionaries) whom he favours because they are
( closer to God than liberal tbeologians who seek Lo prove his existence
by logical methods. 'Those who seek to prove tbe existence of God by
( means o[ reason) wrote a German pietist thirty years earlier, 'are
( atheists', and this is what Hamanu himselI believed. Religion was the
direct expcrience of the presence of God, or it was nothiog. From
(
Glallbe-belie[ 01' faith-to revelotion was but a short step. Hamann)s
( religion ,,"as that of the burning bush) nol that oí Tholllist logic 01'
(
lnatw·al' senú-Luthernn religioo; it sprang {rom a Dionysiac experi-
ence) DOt Apollonian conte1nplatioo. Driven to the extreme to which he
drives it, this attack on aU generalisation leads inevitably to the denial
of tbe possibilit), of alllallguage and thought. Hamann ignores this. He
is obsessed by the eonviction that the fulness of li[e) the transfornúng
( moments oC sudden illuminatioll) are lost in analysis 8nd dissection. No
( wonder that he was greatl)' admired by Goethe and by the romantics
and criticised stero!y by Hegel, that he inspired Herder and Jacobi and,
(
most oC all, Kierkegao¡'d, ,vho called lúm 'The Emperor'.
( '''hat, you may ask, has all this lo do ,vith David Hume, v,hose
(
temperament) beliefs 80d entire outlook were exceediugly remote írom
this ecstatic view of life, "ho ",as repelled by nothing so much as zeal,
[anaticisID, religious enthusiaslU) agaillst ",hich (so his best biographer
te1ls us) he lIad reacted so strongly, as a result of his OW11 strict Presby-
l
terian upbringing? A nd indeecl, it has nothing to do ",ith Hume. But
l Hume, so it tllrned out, had, aU unknowing, a good deal to do witlt it.
l ultimatelr ooe.
Hu l\[ E' S 'VD R. KS, like those of other British \vúters, ",ere llluch read
(
in tIJe mid-eighteenth centW]T br German intellectuals. The Trcatúe
was translated iuto German only in 1790) but trallslations oí some of
The 1110rol, Political and Literary Essa)"s, in lhe form oí Vermischte
Schriften, "ere published in Gel'lllan in 1755-6, and DI tlIe Enquiry
l cOllcel1zing Human Understondlilg in 1755. A Gennan version of The
\.
l.
( --.---
ISAIAH DEI\LIN lO'
Natural History o/ Reúgio/l was published in '757 and '759, anu an
anthology of Ilume's 'V1;tings (compiled by J. G. Bremer), perhaps
traoslated from the French, appeared in 177+. A complete version by
K. G. Schreiter of the posthUlll0US Dialogues on Natural Religian C3me
out in 1781. Hamann was a lifelong student of Hume. He read ]¡im
partly in translatiou, but mainly in English-he certainlr read tlle
Treatise in the original, probably during his ea)"ly Lonclon sojourn. His
fillt mentioll of Hume occurs in 1756) afler he had read lhc Gr·nnan
translation of the Essays. In a leLLel" to Jacobi of 1787 he wl"ote '1
studied Hume eyen before 1 wrote my Sacralle Memairs [i.e.) in 1759]
and this is the source to which 1 owe my doctrine of faitb [Glaube]. ...
1 was full of Hume when 1 ",as writing the Sacralie l\lemairs. ... 8 Our
own existence, aud that oí 011 things outside us mllst be bclieved, and
cannot be demonstrated in auy other fashion.'9 It .may be en exaggera-
tiOll to clainl that IIamann actually derived his notion of Glaube as
fundamental to aH knowleclge and understal1ding solely fr0l11 Hume.
But equally there is no doubt that Hume's doctrine o[ belie[) partic-
ularJy such assertions as, [01' exampJe, tIte stalement in the Trealise
that 'Belief is lllOre properly an act oí tlle sensitive than o[ the cogitative
part of our natures';o made a profound impl"ession UpOll Hamann,
played a part in his return lo fervent Christian faith, and certainly re-
inforced his anti-intelleetualism by providing hi1U willi on i.lnli-
Cartesian wcapon of great power. The doctrine that reason is unable to
progress by meaos o[ purely logical steps írom one stalement of faet
about the world to anothel"-and that consequently tite entire onlo-
logical structure of the Cartesian, or indecd) aoy other rationalist
metaphysics was built on a central fallacy-that, to Homann and his
fo11owel"s) '''I'"as a boon of inestimable value; tite)' uscd it as a battering-
ram ogainst the haled ';'loUriao philosophy that dominaled Gennan
uuiversities aud that seemcd to them to de-spiritualise the world, to
reduce its irregular, living lexture to ao artiricial patterl1 o[ bloouless
categOli.es) al", alternatively, in its empirical versioll, lo the dealhly
malerialism of Holbnch Ol" Helvétius) in which there was, fOI" l-Iamanll,
no colow·) 11o\,eltr) genius, thunder, lightning, agony, transfiglll·ation.
In the eourse of this Ite transformed H lime's psychological and logical
concepts ioto religious ones; for Hamann, belief, foitlJ, revelation, were
Nevertheless) Hume's scepticislll, above aH his denjaI of lhe existence
oí necessary connections in nature, and hjs severance o[ logical relations
from those of the real ,,"orld, which had sbocked Kant out of Iris dog-
matic slumber, delighted Hamann) since Ior him tb.is cleared lhe palh
to the existence and powel" o[ the basic human faculty of belief, without
w}úc!I there was neither thought oor action, neither ao external \Yorld
 (
( 102 ]-[llme amllhe Sources O/ Germall Anti-Rationalism
( nor histOI]'1 neilhel' God nor other persons¡ nOlhing but 8n unrefuted
( solipsism. Ilamanl1 had no il1usions about Hume's gcnc¡'al}>OSitioll; no
mao ",ha demandcd that philosoph)', when dealing ,,-üh lIJe human
( Luind, adopL lhe methods of lhe natw'al sciences, couId be anything but
( nn enemj'; hUL Hume was ao enemr who J however unintentionally,
had lIncovered lhe truth 011 él crucial issuc. 'Hume" IJamann wrote to
( Herder in 1781 (evidently m.eaning lo contrast him wilh Kant), 'is
( alwnYB J11Y man, because he al least paiel homage lo the pl'inciple of
fúith, 8nd incorporaled it in hi5 s)'stem. 'll No donht Hamann Ull-
(
warrantablr identified Hume':; doctrine of belic! ,,;Lh the full doctrine
( oí Pauline faith in things l1n~een. Still, belief and acceptance oí reality
wilhO\ll a priOli demonslrDlion WDS the basis 01" HUllle's epistemolog),.
(
1'0 have so }lowerfLll an aH)' in the camp of the enem)', indeed, in the
( shape of an unueliever through whose mouth God had chosen to reveal
( a central truth, was itself a marveUous gift. Ton-al"ds the end of the
Preface to the second edition of the Critique cif Pure Reason, in a famous
( senlence, Kant says lIt remains a scanelal for philosoph}' ancl human
( reason in general lhat the existence oI lhings outside llS . . . must be
taken onl)' 011 faith, ond that if il occurred to someone lo doubt it, we
( <>
could produce no coullter-argument sufficient to prave i1'. "'hat is a
( scanclal fOl" Kant, is at the ver)' heart of Hamann's doctrine; in support
of it he quotes Hume's worcls in the Enquiry: lIt seems eyiclent that
(
lnen are carried by a natural instinct 01' prepossession lO repose faith in
thei.1' 5en5e5';12 and he tells Kant: Ito eat an egg, to d1'ink a glass of
water, the Attic philosopher Hume needs faith. II he needs faith to eat
~
and dl'inkJ why does he belie his own principIe when judgiog of thiogs
( higher lhan eating 01' drinking?'.1J lo other words, if the reality oí the
( external world is guaranteed by belief as a form of direct acquaintance,
why should this also not hold of our belief in God, t1le belief 01' faith of
( those who daily and how'ly see God io I-1is creatioll, ol' hear Bis voice in
( Bis sacl'ed books, in tbe words oí Bis saints and prophets, to be found
among the humblest and most unreganled of mankind? vVhatever his
el'l"OI'S, Hume is sllJ'ely right about belief; without it, Hamann teUs
( Kant in )759, there can be no action: 'ir you want a proof for every~
tbing, you canoot aet at aU-Hume realises this'.u
~
Even though I-Iume's concept oí belief is non e too c1ear, as he himself
,
~ admils in the Trealise, it is oevertheless far removed from Hamann's
quasi-intuiLive, infallible, Pauline-Luthel'an Glaube. Hume al times
speaks of belieE as a peculiar and not ful'ther describable 'feeling' al"
(
, Isuperiol'force 01' vivacily al' solidüy orfi'rmness or sleadiness' and the
like; but the reasonableness 01" justification of beliefs about l'eality rests
oot so much on the evidence of introspection oí this kiDd, as Oll repeated
conjuoctions oí impl'essions, and the association of the resultant ideas,
(
JSAIAII BER LIN
that is, on regulari.ties in experieoce and the COnSll"lIction therefrolll oí
a systematic network of reliable e.x-pect8lioos without which neither
human thought nor actiou is po.5sible. Allhough inductive rnethods,
which rest on the undemonstl'able belief that the futLU'e wil] imitate tbe
past, cannot yield cert.ainty, theil" job is to generate variol1s degl"ees of
)lrobability. It is by lhese that J for Hume, al least in sorne moods,
rational beliefs (which, in his somewhat loose fashion, he tended to
identify with custom, habit, expel'ience, nature and the like) are t.o be
distinguished froro mere fantasy Ol" guess\York al' prejudice 01" supersti-
tio.n. Since the existence of ooe thing can Deyer 10gical1)' entail tIJe
eXIstence of any other, these methods are aH that is available to us fOI"
building a body of kllowledge. 1t is by appl);ng t!lis crirerion to the
assel'tions of theologiallS, whetber orthodox Christians 01' deists, that
Hume justifies his most sceptical and destructive couc1usions.
Nothing couJd be further fram Hamann's fervent defeoce of Glaube
as the ooly path to the external world, to otber persons, to God. At
times be almost acknowledged lhi::;. 11 do not know', he wrOle in 1787 to
Jacobi J Iwhat Hume 01' either of lIS understands by Glaube-the more
we speak and write about it, the less we Sh811 mallalTe to seize hold oí
this lump of qllicksilver; Glaube cannot be communicaied like a parcel
of goods, it is tlle kingdol11 oC heayen and hell ,,;thin us.'u This is very
remote froro Hume's world, something of which, in sorne scnse,
Ramann is nol unaware, for he srstematically ignores everything in
Hume which is aotipathetic to him, that is, almost aIl that is most
characteristic oí the Scottish philosopher. Thu5 he sa}'s nothing abont
Hume's insistence on Ithe received maxims of scieoce J morals, prudence
and behaviow",16 which Harnann himself looks on as 50 many philisLioe
obstades to the authentic vision of truth. Hamann has nOlhing to say
00 tbe crucial d.istinction made iu the Trealise between superstition
and prejlldice on the one hand, and on the olher belief supported by
direct experience and the evidence oC constant conjunetion. He ignores
Hume's )lsyehology oí belief as the effeet of oature, custOID, tradition,
and the like; he detests the associalionist ]lhyschology with its mech-
anical approach and hair-splitting Cas he caHs it). As might be expected,
he wiJI have nothing to do ,vith Hume's notion of the self as a bundle
oIsensations, the plaything of desires and passions; Hamann's self is au
immortal soul known by direct Glnube, with an inner life concerned
with matters DOt drearnt of in Hume's philosophy. Hume f01" Hamann
is an unbeliever whose theological views are therefore of no concern
to him; consequently he ignores the inconsistency bet.weeo Hume's
apparently deistic argllment in the Na/ural His/ory of Religion, and its
virtual clissolution in the Dialogues (pointed out by Kemp-Smith and
others) and replacement by Philo's total agnosticismj nor does he pay
 (
( 10 4 Hume and the Sow'ces of German Anli-Ralionalism
( attentioo to Hume's violent diatribes against preciselr the type of
(
Christianity that he and his friends most fervently espou.ed.
HUDle's positivism and his a.l1ti-clericalislll are equall)' relnote from
( Hamalln's own spiritual conceros. He mentiDns neither the celebrated
( passage in Section x [( of the Ellqw'ry about coUlmitting everrthing
that is neither quantitative Dar empírica! lo tbe flatnes, llor the equally
(
famous designation oí historical religion5 as lsick men's dreams' and
( 'pla),some whitnsies of monkies in human shape',t7 about which Hume
declared that 'in a future age, it ",ill probably becollle difficult to
(
persuade sorne oatiaos, that ao)' human, two-legged creatUl'e colud
( evel' embrace such principIes. And it is a tbollsand lo one, but these
(
(
naliaos themselves shall ha\-e someth.ing full as abslU'd in their own
creed, lo which they wiJl give a mast implicit aud mast re]jgious
assent'.18 In theory Hume is speaking only of absmodly irratiollnl
( s)'stems and religions, but irratiouality was llot a deCect in llamann's
eyes: indeed, he aecepted aud glorified it. His interest in Hume is
( intense and life-Iong, but uarrow, confined to Hume's argument
( against tbe conception of rea~on held by the I'ationalist th.inkel's, the
(
fol1owers of Descartes aud Leibniz aud Spinoza. Hunle is acclaimed for
showing that reason is not au organ of discoverr, and for reducing it to
( its proper role as a mere capacity for recombillatioll, elllcidation, COll-
sistency, taxonomy, lacking all power oC creatioll 01" revelation. Hume,
( mology of Reid and the Scottish school. Yet they had the root of the
Hamal1l1 wrote in 1759, is 'a spirit for tearing down, Bot buildil1g up,
( that is indeed his glory'.19 Hume is a de~lroyer of metaphysical
( illusioos; it was precisel)' because Kant, in hi~ eITort to build a system
of his OWD, which to sorne degree restored the very a priori links dis-
(
credited by HlUlIe, that Hamann elearly preferred Hume to Iris old
( Konigsberg friend, whOLn he sometimes caJls-whelher or not this is
in tended as a complitnent-a Prussian Hume. 20 Hume is, of course,
\.. one of the pillars of the Elllig}¡tenmellt, a fighter on the wrong side of
the barricades; lleverLheless, Hamann sees him as being, despite lúm-
( se1f, a killd of ally. 'J llst as nalure/ Harnaal1 writes to Linrlner in 1759,
'furnishes an orea of poisonous \Yeeds "ith antidoles in close proximitr,
\.. and the Nile kl1o""s how to couple the crocodile with !lis treocherol1s
ellemy, so Hume faUs on the s\Yord of his 0\Y1l truths';21 like SOCl"ates,
\..
\..
Hume shows how wide is the realm of human ignonlllce-a very use-
fuI "'eapon, I-Ia1uann remarks, against tour elever heads aad sc.ribes'.
( Hume's Ílnmortal ser vice is his clestruction of a-priorism, the notion of
logically or metaphysically guaranteed truths about the \Yorld: tlús, for
l Hamaan, removes the rationalist barriers to llirect coIDlllunication ",ith
l nature and with God, liberates t11e creative imagination in which sllch
communicatiol1 can be emborued, and brings clown the house of cards
l of the builders oC metnphysical fictions. Hume's relativism, his
\..
\..
l -
ISA1AH BERLIN 10 5
phenomenalism, his doctrine of the role of belief in the growth of
scientific knowledge-all this is nothiog to Harnaan. lt is the cauteris-
ing scepticism which Hume is held to share with Socretes, that confes-
sion of ~gnorance of first causes, or oC tlle ullimate purpose of things,
which prepared the soil for the daimon of Socrates, for the revelatiolJ
oC tite divine, tite Pauline yision, tllat excited Ramano. Bis hatred of
laws, rules, system, is almost obsessive: it is this love oí an opeo texture,
whether of tite individual imngination Ol" oI social relatiol1ships that are
spont8neol15, founded 00 nalw·al human feeling, that is echoed in lile
tlYO centuries that followed by Herde,' and his disciples-populists,
romaotics, influenced by Rousseall, nostaJgic seekers after a vnnished
II organic society, denollncers of all forms of alienatiou.
In aIl tlli.!:: it is direct conlnct of the individual with thiogs Bud persons
aod God, the moyement of both history aud nature, which he calls
I 'faith', that domiuates Hamann's thOllgltt. He S8}'S that faith-Glallbe
-in its mo~t intense form is something which mllstlead and illum.illate
us in a fash.ion far more immediate, more inward, darker and more
\ certain thao frul es' oí aoy kind. This notion of belief i5, oI course,
I sonlething yery different from tltat strain in Hume in which he speaks
of belief as a more or less lucchanical, inescapable acceptance of external
I reaJity, wh.ich men share with animals; 01' indeed, [1'0111 lhe episte-
lualter in them: ltruth to tell' (Hamrmn wrole later in his life), 'llook
with pit), on lhe philosopher who demands from me evidence that he
possesses a body and that there exists a material \Yorld. To \Yaste one's
time and "it 00 these kinds of truths and evidences is at once sad and
ridiclllollS.'21 lt is because Hume shows the absunlit)' of demallrung
demonstrative proof of the existence o[ any thing or persol1, human or
divine, and, unlike Kant, does not d.raw ontologicallines between lypes
of reality with no basis in experience, that llamalln claüns him as an
ally. TI.ús accounts for tlle fact that in his references lo Hume, he shows
no trace of tite killd of altitude displélyed lowards him by his British
detractors, oothillg resembling Beouie's outbursL ngaiust the ',"ile
effusion of a hnrd aud stupid heart', 01" \Varburton's aud IJurdJs
deullllciations-eyidently he is Dol, to I-Iamanll, olle of tlle three
demons driven b,- ..
. the anuel into the bottom.less pit of Re)'l1olds'
celebrated allegorical painting.
Hamann·s particular use of Hume is pel'haps beH illllstrated in his
treatment of the ,,·ords which [onn the conclud.ing parngl'aph o[ tlle
tenth seclioll of the Enquir)", entitled 'Of l\li.racles'. lo lhis, according
to Kemp-Smith lprobably the most notol"ious passage in aU IJ ume's
writings', Hume asserts that IUpon the whole, \Ve may conclude that
the Christian rehgion not only \Vas at first attended ",ith mil·neles, but
(
( 106 Hume alU/the Sources 01 German Anti-Ralionalism
( even al this date cannot be believed by any reasonable persa n without"
( - one. l\1ere reason is insufficient to convi.l1ce us of its veracity: And who-
ever is moved by Faith to asscnlto ¡t, Is conscious DI a continued mirac1e
( in hi5 o\Yn persan, which subverts allthe principIesof his understanding,
aod gives him a determinalion lo helieve what is O105t cont.rary to
(
custom and experience.'23 No unprejudiced reader cDuld fail lo notice,
( as, indced, I"emp-Smith points out, that both lhe content aDd tone oí
( this passage are ironical aod dendy designed lo discredit f8ith in
mirades. Hume's general argttm,ent is thal the probability oC human
( mendacitr 01' delusion 01' raDtas)' 01' eredulity is, on the evidence avail-
able, far greater than the probability oí the events in question, the
prodigies and mjrac1es reported in the Old Teslament, which are in-
compatible wilh the laws of nature as established by e>.:perienee; and
( since the testimony of lhose ",ho have claimed to have observed
mirades cannot be regarded as being more reliable than the mass oí
( his editioD of Hamann's wOl"ks. So far as \Ye can ten, this was the onl)'
tite testimony of observalion on which acceptance of the laws of nature
( is founded) the weight of the former cannot stand up against the weight
of Lhe testimony for the laller.
Hamann, aod after him Jacobi) did Ilot, as they well migbt have
done , question the vaZidity of lhis argument; they simply turned it
round. They seized eagerly upon lhis ver)' text as an argument for lhe
miraculous nature of faith, a doctrine oí which Hamann's most ardent
admirer, Kiel'kegaard, became the O1ost celebrated pToponent. For
I-Jamann, mirac1es are not a breach of lhe natw'al order, fol' he does not
believe in causality, either as a relation oí real ohjects 01' as ti calegory
(
of the mind-a lrllth for which, again (less plallsibly in the talter
( case), he c1airns lhe authority oí Hume. Fo!" Hamann everything is a
, work of God, wOl'king not through secondary causes, hut by the direct
, action oí His will. What is there in nature, he asked, in the commonest
and most natural events, which is not a miracle for us, a mirade in the
slrictest sense? Everything that ha})pens need not have happened UD-
(
less God had willed it so: we accepl it as real because lVe have beeo
given Glaube-in itself a miracle-which indelibly impresses it upon
our minds, our senses, imaginations, memories aDd ¡ntellect. Hume's
'continued mirac1e in his owu persoo' is precisely what the. thinkers of
the Counter-Enlightemnent, most })8ssionately believed, 01' wished to
believe. "\'Vriting to his íriend Lindner in 1759 abaut this passage,
Romann sa}'s 'Hume may have said this scornful1y 01' earnestlYl never~
l theless jt is orthodoxy, and a teslimony to the truth froro the mouth of
an enemy and persecutor of it-aH his doubts are but a proof of his
propositioo.'H And th.ree weeks later, in a letter to Kant, he cites the
same sentence from Hume's essay- 'a passage which sbould prove
l that even in jest, without knO\ving 01' wishing to do so, one can te11 tbe
,l
¡SAlAB BERL1N 10 7
tl"uth ' .2S Hume 15 'a 5aul among the prophets ' ,26 a witness to a tl'uth
which he cloes llot himseU understand; for does he not rigbtJy declare
that faith-true Christian failh-is neither custom nor commonsense ,
hut a miracle of the spirit? Yet Hume did not see that this applied to
himself too, did not realise that it undermined his OWD scepticism; he
ma)' have intended these ",ords against Christianit}', bul-such is
God's grace-he thereby added to the believers' armoury.
lt is J>robably in this s]lirit that Hamann began to translate the
Dialogues COllcerlllizg ;Nalural Religioll, which Hume's nepllew David
publisbed in 1779, three years alter the author's dealh. The first
edition of the Dialogues appeared 00 21 Ju1r; ayear later, 011 7 August
J 780, Hamaon completed his own work on tbe texto It is not a com-
plete lranslatioD, ooly a résumé and a rendering of aOOut a quarter oí
Hume's te>..'t. He circulated it in manuscript p1·ivately to his friends,
and it remained unpllblished until 1951, when NadIe)" inc1uded it in
version of Hume's Dialogues knowll to Kant-there is no evidence
that he was acquainted ""itb Sclll'eiter's full version al 1781. 'The
Dialogues is a work full oí poelic beal1ties ' , Ramann "Tate to the pub-
lisher Harlknoch in 1'(80, 'and like Green 27 1 consider it not 50 very
dangerol1s. 1 am tran~laling il like a fifly-year-old 5wabian clergyman,
for the benefit of my open-hearted (freimülhige) coHengues and
COl1Dtl')'men.... '28 Kant is said lo have been delighted end innuenced
by it, although tlle Prolegomena oí 1785 shows that he did Dot fully
accept the refutation oí the argument fl'om desigll, which .Hume
develops in it. As for Hamnnn, any allack lIpon rOlional theology and
deism was grist to his mili nDd that oE the other defeuders ofrevelation
agaiust both atheists and !ll'OpOnents oC natural religion, between whom
he and his allies professed to see little diffel"ence. The very notion of
natura] religion angered Harnann, who compared it to the idea oí
natural language-a typical fiction of the philosophers, logic-choppers
who had Dot enough sense of realily lO know that languages were inti-
mately connected with particular places and times, particular enviroD-
ments, particular forms of historieal growth, ",ere organic e>..-pressions
of particular groups of human beings in unique relationslIips to one
anotber, something which DO general formula could conye)'. The real
enemies were tbe deists, ",ha invented an abstraction, a First Cause, 01'
The Divine Clockmaker who set the universe in motion; hut ",bat had
this ens ralionis, this figment of the philosophers , lO do \Vitb tbe God
who spoke to meu's hearts, the God whose onl}' begotten son died to
redeem us froro our sins? 'h seeros eyident', said Hume in tbe t\'velfth
section of tbe Enquiry concenling Human Underslanding, 'that men
are carried by a natural instinct 01' prepossession, to repose faith in their
•
(
( 108 ¡-fume and lhe Sources of Germall Anli-Ralionalúm,
!r
( senses; aud that, without sur reason, 01' even almost befere the use of
!!
reasoo) '\Ve always suppose ao externa! universe.... ' Even animals do
(
this. 'But this ... opinion of al! men is soon destroyed by the slightest
( philosophy, which teaches us tltat nothiog can ever be present to the
(
mind but an image of perception.' For Hume this is an argumeut
against common sense realismo But to Hamana this nnd similar passages
( may \Vell hayc seemed the very opposite: warnings, the OlOre striking
( if they \Vere Dol consciously so ¡ntended, against the corrosive touch oC
philosophy and its delusive constructiollS, particularly when they touch
(
on matters oC ultimatc coneern, such. as the relationship of m8n to God.
( So also with the Dialogues. In the condudiog passage ofthe DiaÜJg/les,
iu a paragraph addea by Hume iu one of his fioal revisious, Philo says
(
'A persoo, seasolled w1th the just sense of the impedections of natLU'al
( rensen, wiU Uy to revenled tl'ulh \\'ith tLIe greatest avidity: 'rvhile tite
( haughty dogmatist, persuaded that he cau erect a complete system of
theology by the mere help of philosophy, disdaius auy further aid, aud
( rejecLs this adventitious instructor. To be a philosoph..ical sceptic is, in a
man of leLters J the first and most essealial step towards being a sOllad,
believing Christian.'29 Ramalln does not, as far as 1 know, refer to this
passage: Jet il is diffícult uot to think that he could haye regarded it as
an)'thing but )'et another piece of Christian evideuce provided by an
enemy, ltuintended testimOD}' to a truth sufficient to destroy the
scepticism Ol' agllosticisul which is Philo's officia! position in the Dia-
logues. Rume's scepticism seemed to him to sweep away far more
effectively t11ao K..allt's cautious argumeuts the rickety constructions of
reason which obstruct the inpowing of Iaith; iuto the vacuum so
( created Glaube can entero In oue oI his last letters to Jacobi, which 1
have quoted already, HamaUll says ('Vhen 1 wrote the Socratic
\.
Memoirs 1 was full of Hume, aud the followiug pussage in my little
( book refers to this: "Our OWfL ezislellce mul the exislence of all things
oUlSide us must be believed aud cannot be detenuined in any other
way." 'JO This is the henrt of the Dialogues Ior Hamanu. 'Oue IDust
start a posteriOl i, not a priori-that is the nústake of other philo-
sophers.'Jl Causalit)', deLenninism, are barriers to the cOlnprehensioll
oI the miracu10us nature of reality. 'Do rOll not realise, philosopher,
that there is no pbysicaJ bond between cause nnd effeet, means Bnd
ends, but a mental, ideal one, one of blind faith, as lhe world's greatest
( writer oI his country's history aud of the (natural church' has main-
tained?'J1 The (blind Iaith' is Ithe faith that is nol the work oI reasan
l and not open to attacks by reaS011, since faith no more happens accord-
\. ing to rensons than taste 01' sight.' rrhat is why (Huule was always my
mao', not Kant-1our Iellow-collntryman who is constantly blasúng
\. away with his causality'JJ (seüte !(ausalitiitsstürmerei).
\.
.+
ISAlAH llER.LIN 10g
1T 15 A STRANGE paradox that has tbus made Hume one of the patron
saints oC German fideism aod irraúonalism. Yet so il ,,.,.as. Hamann's
dOOple; Friedrich Heinl'ich Jacobi, continues this line of thonght; and
sinee, according to one of the posthumous essays of the late Arthur
Lovejoy, Jacobi was one of the most widely read th..inkers of his Lime
both in Germany and outside it, it is not a matter Ior surprise that his
views entered the current oI Germao aud French philosophical intui-
tivism, which Ied various streams oI modern vitalisLU, irrationalis111 and
existentialism. Jacobi ('745-'818) was not a thiuker of the first 01'
even secand order. He is more interesting as a philosophical novelist,
man of lettel's, middleman of ideas and indefatigable letter-writer.
His correspondence with Kant, Herder, Hamanl1, Goethe, l\JIendel-
ssohl1, h..is famous controversy ""'ith Mendelssoltn about Lessing's real
beliefs (the so-called PalllheúmSslrelt), !lis altacks on Kaot, Fichte,
Herder and Schelling (and the ferocious counter-attack by the last
named), and his rediscoveey of such forgotten thinkers as Spinoza aud
Bruno, stimulated thinkers more gifted than bimself and threw a great
deal of light on the Germun philosophical sceoe at the tmn of the
eighteenth century. Iu 1786 he published a book, which he entitled
David ¡-fwne über den Glauhen, ocler Realismus lllld Iclealismus EÚl
Gespriiclz. J4 In this \York, particulady in the Introduetioo to the
philosophical dialogue which fonns its maio contenl, there is a paean to
Hwne as the apostle of non-rational faith. The mere fact that Hume's
naIne occurs in the tille of this treatise is evidence of the place occupied
by him in the pantheon of early German romanticismo Jacobi \Vas a
realist in epistemology, but he was 0150 a Iervent anti-rationalist thcist,
brought up, like Knnt, Herder ond Hamann, in tIJe pietist tradition J
aud he faithflllly fol1owed Ilamanll's practice of self-observntion as weH
as his use of texts from Hune in tlle calupaign against the sballow
lllaterialists and deists in France and their followers in Gennany, particu-
larly among liberal Lutberan pastors. Bis book canies an epigraph Iro111
Pascal: IReason refutes the dogmatist; nature refutes the seeptic'. lt
\Vas tile laller position that Jacobi developed at some lengtb. The late
Professor Philip l\1erlan, wllo in a short alld interestillg article examined
the relations oC H81UaUll, Hume and Jaoobi J J5 took the trouble LO point
out that nature, unlike reason, could not refute, it could on]y cause us
to avoid the truth and accept illusiollS, for truth remained truth, and
illusions remained false J however comforting 01' indispensable they
might turn out to be.
This, however, is, 1 believe, a misunderstanding of Jacobi's meaning.
His thesis is that there is but one kind of genuine knowledge, and that
is OUl' natural Glaube: ("Ve are born in faith as we are born in societ)";
(
( 110 Hume and the Sources of German Anu"-Raliollalism
( there are forms oE intuilive certainty lh8l rensan is incapable of either
confirming or refuting) such as my awareness oC IU}' own identity, oí
( rny causal eflicac)' revealed in deliberate eITort and action,36 and of lhe
( freedom oí ID)' wil1. And 1 am similarl)' certain of lhe existente of God,
of the rational world and DE other senticnt beings. These beliefs,
(
according lo Jacobi, are llol merel)' presupposed in aH that we do OT fcel
( 01" think, hut are ,,;th liS from birlh, are a11 that bind us te reality, aud
F
are wholl)' indep€"ndent of hrpotheses 01" postulates Ol" theoretical con-
strucLions oí an)' kind, suth as, rOl' examplc) the hypothesis of the
( uniformi.ty of natllre, which i5 a necessary postulate of the propositions
( of the natural sciences-for hypotheses are subjeet to verification 01'
falsification, from which true G/aube, faith 01' helief, 10ss of which is
(
inconceivnb1e, is whally free. Our certainty of ou1' own existence and
( of our m.yn unique personalitr is a 'fee1ing ' -eiIL Gefiihl-a sensc of
realil)'; and it guaranlees the reality oC whatever it reveals. Our in-
( out Lo be an uDwarranled infereoce.' And this, indeed, is the bLU·den
fallible conviction of our own seU is lhe louch5to11e oC a11 other know·
( ledge: "ye measure t11e reliabilil}' oC other belieCs by it, Dot t11e olber
way about, for aH inference and evidence cannot be as strong as what
we know by acqnaintance \\;lh OUT own personality. The task oí
philosophy is to 'revea} existence', Das Dasel·n Zll clllhüIlen; and it is
sllch feelings-GefiüLle 01' Gt'Sill11ll11gell-that do this; there is no way
of eSlablishing lhe lrulh 'beyond and above' lhis. To support this he
quotes Hlune's Treatúe,31 ",here belief is described as 'somethingfelt
by lhe mind which, distingui5hes the ideas oC the judgement froro the
fietions of the imagination. It gives them more force al1d ianuence;
makes them appear oC greater importance; infixes them in the mind;
and renders them the governing principIe oC aH our actions.' He
quotes , too , from Section XII oí the Enqui,.y the relevant passages on
\ men's 'natural instinct' and 00 their 'pl'epossession to repose failh in
Lheir senses'. 'Thi5 very table, which we see white, and which we feel
hard , is bell'evcd to exist, independent of our perception, aod to be
something external to out' mind, which perceives it....' Jacobi goes OD.
to say that (\>Ye believe in our senses, and therefore in the existence of a
sensible world. And similarl)' \Ye believe in ou1' inner sense, and the1'e-
[ore in the existence oC 8 \Vorld beyond the senses.'J! This seeros to bim
to [ollow [rom llume's premi5ses; snd such belief (he says notbing
abollt ITume's difficulties with solipsism) seeros to him, as it does to
Hamann, to pass insensibly into Olfenbarung, that ¡s, revealed truth
given direetly wilholll benefit of reason. Tms is lhen eonlrasted with
l the generalisalions and abslraelions of Plato or Spinoza, Quilders oí
logieally eoherenl systems of idealised figments lhat are death to the
l. sense ofreality.
\.. Jacobi's roethod oC drawing sustenance from tbe enemy's reSOUl'ces is
l
(
ISAIAH DERLIN 111
well illustrated b), his treatment of Illlme's celebrated refutation oE the
~I'gllment froID designo Jacobi characteristically turllS it on i15 bead in
tite manner of Hamann, to reillforce his own conception of faith,
Glaube. Hume in t11e EnquiryU arogues that since it 15 an argurnent
from analogy, it caonot be applied to something that, ex h)7JOlhesi, is
unique, namel)' the deilJ'. Analogies can he sO\lght onl)' between
entities which belong to a species containing otller actual Ol' possible
members. Let lile quote Pl"ofessor VVollheim's suc incl formulation oE
tlais argument in his edition oí Hnme 00 religion:" o 'The oolr cases
where \Ve can validlr argl1e froro a particular event to its canse, i5 where
the event is one of a series of events which ha ve beeo observetl to be
constantlr conjoined vviLh events similar in kind to lhe cause. In other
,""orels, we cannot 8uribl1te a cause to nn event, if lhat event 1s unique
in human experience. But il is oh\'ious that "the frame of natul"c" is,
in this sense, unigue ... lherefore the religions liypothesis . o . turns
of Hume's three-pronged crilicisrn oí what in The Dialogues he calls
'the religious hY])Qthesis'.
Jacobi positively we1comes this lnode of rea50uing. He agrees tbat
ordina)"y knowledge is founded on what he calls 'compal;soos', and
since God is unique, no coml)arison with Hilll is possible. It is not an
instance oí a general concept. But neither, Jacobi avers, is mr own
mind: it, too, is uoique, wholly individual) and cannol be reached from
any external starling point. This is precisely n-hJ' 1 knon- God, as 1
kl10w myseli, by an immediate sense of their existence; not by analogy
01" nny othel' kind oC inference, nor, in the case oC m)' self-identitr, by
memory 01' in any other indireet fashion. 1 8m not to myself an idea
capable of being described, stillless analysed; m)' eertainty of my O\YO
e}";stence cannot be separated from roy certainty of what 1 am, of the
mind, indeed the unique substance, that 1 di1'ectly know myself to beo
This knowledge is the 'basis oí aIl other aW8reness: it is direct and
transcendent; no wonder that Hume and Kant, wha look for the seU in
ordinaloy sense experience 01" tbe shadow 'wol"ld of loaica} o
cateuories
o'
cannot find it. This inversion oC Hume's ernlJiricism and scepticism in
order to prol' ul' íaith is lypieal of tbe enlire sU'alegy of this group of
dogmatic religious transcendentalists: they can in Hume as a kind of
outside sl'ecialisl, expert al demolismng what lhey most deel'ly abhor-
the theories of knowledge and reality of the rationalist met8physicians.
For Jacobi, reality is revealed by what he sometimes calls fYesen-
heüsgifiihl-ilie immeruale feeling of essenlial being-whieh he
regards as a gift oí God. He 'peaks oí Glallbe-the rureet apl'rehension
of God, oneself) the external world-as a kind oí salto mOl-tale, a leap of
faith, without which we l'emain imprisoned in the imaginary \Vorlds
(
(
llZ ¡'fume and lhe Sources of German Anli-Rationalism
( of logical J mathematical or metaphysical construetions-Hamaun's
castles in the air-remote from realit)·, in which many \\'orthy and
(
respected thinkers li\-e all their lives. FroID this, Hwne's scepticism can
( save uso That, indeed, Jncobi tells us, is his claim lo itnmortal fame.
( to them. For these mystical nOluinalists there were no walls between
To SU" D. this peculiar relatioosbip: it is doubtflú whether the
( Genuao opponents of Lhe Enlightenmeot needed Hume to establish
( their position, hut it is a historical fact that their founding fathers,
Hamanll and Jacobi, were fasciuated by his argUUlents ngainst thei.r
( principal enemies, the deists, whom they abhorred more thao out~and­
( out atheists, perbaps hecause the latter al least did 001 seem to them lo
vulgarise and dilute tbat which tbe existence and presence and direct
(
kuon-ledge of God meant to the lrue believer. They simply took from
( Hume's writings what they needed. ~lrs Shirley Letwin, in a recent
( essay on Hume,'H has just1y observed tltat 'every great philosophcr has
been rendered iuto diverse character;'. Lessiog, Herder, Gaethe had
( done this for Spinoza, ",ho afler beiog the secret inspu:er DI French
( malerialism was ttu'lIed iuto something approaching a pantheistic
transcendcntalist, the father of German Absolute Idealism. In Hume's
case the metamorphosis is no les5 complete, Represented by sorne a~ 'the
most devastating sceptic who not 0111)' destro)'ed tite pretences of tradi-
tiooal pbilosophy, bul also sho"ed that koowledge of aor sort i5 00
illusion'J he is ttuned by others into 'a dogmatic empiricist who be-
lieved that mao could achieye incontrovertible truth'.42 Support can
" be found in Hume's writings for both tlIese ioterpretations, and for
others also, Burke's distrust oI philowphical abst.ractions, his faith in
nattu'e, good sense J history, CÍ"ilisation, and his hostility to absolute
( rules and a priori generalisations J aud, still more, to radical reforl1l in
tite name of eternall)J'inciples 01' unstable J capricious popular passions
l -aH this has its roots in Hume as well as ÑIontesquieu and Hooker.
Mili, and following him J Russell J o\'\e him luuch of their faith in
scientific metJlOd and thei.r rejectioll oC dogmatism, a pn'on'sm and the
(
false analogies drawn by theologians, as well as lheir suspicion oC the
tendency to mistake conventioll aud habit fol' eternal principIes, their
acceptance oC probability as the neare:t appl'oximaLion to uuattaillable
empirical certaintr, their crmamng hatred oC il'rationalism, their
l approval al the calmer paSSi0115 and their incIinatioll towards natu-
( ralism amI a motlified utilitarianism. But rOl' Hamaan and his disciples
Hume was simply a more destl'ucti-vc critic than Kaut of the older
l rationalism. He seemed lo them to ha,e finally undermined the notion
oí unalternble eategories of experience, as weH as any form oC dualisll1 ,
the doctrine oI two ","orlds, whetIter of a CaJ"tesian, Leibnitzian or
KanLian kiud; tIIere was only oue worldJ that oC direct confrontation
.....Ib
ISAIAH BERLIN 115
with reality; aud although Hume's notioo of lbis world was radical!y
different from their OWD J tbe recognition of its unity, aDd oI the
Platonic falJacy which underlay aH attempts to determine frontiers that
divided reality [rom everyday experienceJ was of supreme importance
the natural alld the spiritual worlds, God spoke lo lhenI in symbols
which they llnderstood J thosc of .natw'c, history, sacl'ed books, fol'
their eyes aud ears were open to His words. Armed with faith J they
needed no proof llor evidence of the reality of what the)' s8w before
them, Tite} perceived tongues io trees, books in t)¡e running brooks,
se,"mons in stones and (by a slight emeodatioo) Cod in evel")"thiog.
These were not metaphors lo them: the God they worshipped was
personal; the}' looked on pantheism as a species of atheism, Hamann
and bis allies wanled no barriers to the all-penetrating power oI faitlt,
a faitb which brooked no rules, obeyed no laws, was inconceivably
remote from the tid)' wOl'ld oE human contrivances-institutional
order, utilitaria n calculatioll, the artificial constructions of the logic- and
evidence-bouncled natural sciences, the clear and sensible orgalllsatioll
sought after, in thei!" v81"ioU5 fashions, by the King of Pl'ussia and ltis
omeials, by Benlham, by the radiealllúnkers of Pari5, perhaps by Hume
too. The ideals of the Enlighteoment seemed lo at least one of ils
German opponents, Lenz, no better litan a fonn oC postponed death;
Holbach's s}"5tem stl'uck tite )'oung Goethe as Cirnmerian, greYJ corpse-
like, the end of a11 vitalit)', freedom and imaginationo Hume's scepti-
cism was the most devastating weapon against these enCimes oC the
spirit that sorne alTlong these forertulners of romanticism thought that
they had Iound; Hume had removed the a priori bOllds needed to
guarantee the indestructible validityof thc raLionaJist edifice (and indeed,
after him, despite the effol'ts of later philosophers, the old confidence
never fuUy rettu'ncd). Dut to the thinkers of ",hom 1 8m speaking
the eliminating of the a priori cement seemed lo render one supreme
service: to cIear the grouud fol' the víctory of religiotls faitll.
Notlúng eould hove been fu¡-ther from Hume alltllús oullook. The
history of his infiuence on a handful oC Gennan antinomian thinkers
is no lUore lhao a footnote in any account of his pLilosophy, although
an exceedingly odd one, 1t is oC sOl"llewhat greater importance to lhe
history of irrationalist ideas in Etu"ope, both religiotls 31ld seculal'J
dtu°ing the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, of which this revolt
against reaSOll marks the 11I0dern beginnings. 1t is stl'allge to renect
that the calm, l'easonable, placid, modera te, ironical Hume, ""ilh his
firm sense of realitJ J acd his lucid and disciplined prase J should have
attained semi-canonical slatus as Qne of the Iounding fathers-if not
a strictl)" legitimate one (bullhen Hamann had an alllbivalent attitude
(
(
J-Iume and the SOllrces o/ German Anti-Rationalism ISAIAB llERLIN "5
1. lIllmann's SehriJtcn) ell. F. Roth and G. A. 'Viener (Bel'lin and Lcip2.ig
( lO a11 COllventions, ond especiall)' to legilimaLe palernily )-~f this
) 82 1-43) vol. v, p. 370, hereafter referred to as SchriJtm.
turbulent, c"..t ravagant, heavcll-stormillg movement, lhe very cJI.,sLence 2. Schrifim, yol.lV, p. 526.
( oC whose leaders remained, so far as OllC can ten, wholly unknown to 5. Schriften) yol. IJI, p. 192. The pun on the name 'Spinoza' and 'spider'-
( him. '''hich was, perhaps, just as wen, for he \VauJd hordl)' haye ap- Spúlllf!-is very characteristic.
proved of them Ol' their views; indeed, he CQuld scarcely have feh an)'- 4, Schriften, yo1. 11, p. 187-
( 5. Sehriftl!1l, vol. I JI, p. 285.
thing but his habitual revulsion befare such storms of u~c~nt~'olled 6. Sehrift~ll, yol. v, p. 668; vol. 1, p. 565i '\'"01. IV, p. 326.
( spiritual enthusiasm. If, in adclition,. he had k~o\~1l oC then' 1Il51stent 7, SeeJohann Geo"g Humann. Siímmtliehc 'Yerke, etl. Jm;ef~l"("ienna:
alld admiring acknowledgement lo 111m oC a mOJor lntelleclnal clebl, he Herder 1944-57) vol. 11, pp. 75-4·
(
miaht hove looked upon lhis as cne oC the nnintcllded J ami uJ1n-elcome, 8. Johanll Geo'-g Hamallll's, des l\laglls im Nonleu, Lebelllllld ScJ"'ijtclI, ed.
(
),et'
,
))crha))s , nol altoaethel'
o
llnpredictable consequences of their
.
ideas , which even the most reasonable, careful, self-protectlye an
ownd
9·
C. H. Gildemeister(Gotha 1857"""'13) vol. v, pp. 496 and 506.
Schrifiell, vol. Il, p. 55·
( 10. Trf'atise, p. 141.
3ccommodating lhinkers cannot al\Yays \Yholly escape. 11. Letterof 10 :\1ay 1781, Sehriftell, vol. VJ, p. 187,
(
12. Enquiries, p. 151ff.
( 13· Schriftell, vol. J) p. +'p.
1,~. Johallll Georg JIamallll. Briefwcchsel) ed. W. Ziesemcr nnd A. rTenkel
( (W¡e,haden 1955) vol. 1, p. 079.
15· Letter to Jaeobi of 27-30 May 1787, Schrijte'l, vol. v, p. 517. On this see
( vV. NI. Alexander Johanll Georg l]amatl1l: Philosophy and Faith (The
Bague: l\lartinusNijhoff 1966), p. 130ff.
16. "'hieh l\Irs S. R. Letwin rightly stressesj see her artic1e 'Hume: In·
ventor oC a )lew Task for Philosophy' PoliticlIl Theol'Y 3, no. 2 (M ay
]975)·
17. Dialogues, Introduetion, p. 11.
18. ihid.
19· Letter to Linder of 21 l\1arch 1859, Schrijtf'tl, vol. J, p. 556.
( 20. See Schriftell/ vol. V1, pp. 156-8.
21. Lelter to Linder oC 3 luIy 1759, SchrifiCtl, vol. J, p. 356.
22. SehriJteTl, vol. VlJ l p. 419.
23. Ellquiries, p. 131 j see Dialogues/ p. 47.
24· Letter of 3 luIy 1759, Ziesemer and Henkel Briefwechsel l vol. 11 p. 356.
25. BrieflUl!chsel, p. 380i see AIexamler, op. cit., p. 152 n. 2.
l 26. Briefwcchscl l p. 380; see SchriJtt!1l, vals. 1, p. 443, and 111 1 p. 391 .
27. Kant's friendl the EngIish merehant, ",ho lived in Kanigsberg.
28. Letler to Hartknoch oC 29 luly 1780, qnoted by J. NadIer in JoJWtlll
Georg Hamatl1l, del' Zettge des Corpus Mysticum (Sahburg: QUo l\1üller
1949) p. o·p·
29· Dialogucs, pp. 227-8·
30. Schriftetl) voL J, pp. 405-6.
31. Gildemeister Ltbell u"d Schrifien, vol. v, p. 232.
32. NadIer Siímmtliche lrerke, vol. IIJ, p. 29.
53· SchriJtm) vol. VI, p. 187,
34. 1 ha,-e used the text published as VoJume II of Friedrich TIeinrieh Jacobi's
'-f'erke (Leip7.ig I815) pp. 1-310.
35. P. l\lerJan 'Kant, Hamanll-Jaeobi and Schelling on Hume' Jiivisla
Critica di Storia della Filosofia (1967) Fase. IV, La Nuova Italia Edilriee
(Florence 1968) p. 484.
l 36. Something of this kind used to be argued by Whitehead and Stout, and it
has had its later exponents.
\

l
 ( ¡l-
116 [-fume and lhe Sources of German Antl'-Ralionalism I llEINI-IARD BllANDT "7
( 37· TreaLue, p. 629.
38. ff/erkc, vol. 11, p. 152.
( 39. Enquiries, p. 11.0.
( 40. R. "'oJlheim (ed.) Hume on Rcligion (Lomlon: Collins, Fontana 19 63)
lnlroduction, pp. 52-1. 'I'he Beginnillgs 01 Hume's Philosophy
( 41. Shirley R. Letwin, op. cit.
+2. ibid. IT HAS BREN GENERALLY accepted in recent research 011 David
( Hume that the famolls words, ('iVhen 1 was about 18 Years 01' Age,
AddiliollaL Ribliograpllic'll M alerinl tltere seem'd to be open'd up to me a llCW Secne oí Thought, which
( llItlm, Jean. L., de ctl'a:I¿l:re de J.-G. Hd1l1al/", le fjl1nge du ¡Vol-d', 17)8-
] ¡88. Pa1;s: Librairie Felix 1912. transported me bcyolld ~IeasllreJ, appearing in a teller to a physician
(
Hatlln",,'s Socratic 11lcmornbilia. A Tr'l1Is1ntiolL and CommclIlal")-. Baltimore: (probably Dr Arbuthnot) dated M",-eh or Al'ril 1754,' mark the
( Johns fIopkins Prcss 1967. . beginning oí Hume's philosophy. Only tIte conlent DI the lne'" sccnc oC
( Hegel, G. "'. F. Hnl1lflll/l'sSc¡,,.¡!lellill iimtlichelf'crkc: ed.lf. Glockner, thougbt' has remaincd a maller of scholarly dispute. NOl'man Kemp
"01. 12, pp. 2°5--,(;;, Stutlgart 1950. SmitlI, who \Vas the first auLhar lo insist on the imponante oí this lelter,
( Knoll, I\enale. Ju"allll GLorg Ha1ll(l1l1l !llIIZ F,-icd,-ic¡' Hállrich Jllcobi.
wrilcs: 'Ta come nO\y lo the question oC the primar)' sources oC Humc's
Heidelberg: C3rl 'Vinler, Utü"ersitiils'-cdau 19 6 3.
( Leibreeht, '"Valter. God and il1 a 11. in lhe Thou¡ht of /-Iaml1l1J1, transo James H. teaching, the thesis r01" which 1 shall argue is th8t it wns under the
Slam and l\larlin H. Berlram. Philadelphia: Fortress Press 19 66 . direct infiuence oí Francis Hutcheson that he was led to recoglJise that
( l\Ierlan , Philip. 'From HUlIle lo Hamann' The Pcrsol/uli~l XXXII, 110. 1 judgments oí moral approvnl L1l1d disapproval, fmd indeed judgments oI
( (Jal1uat"y 1951). value oí whatever typt', are based not on rational illsight 01' on evidence,
- ' Hamann et les Dialogues de Hume' RCL:ue de lllélaph.nique el dI! Jlorale
but solely on Ieeli..llg; and 1hat what then 1I 0pell'd up to [111111) a uew
( ( 1954)-
-'Johallll GeOl'g llaman n (1730-1788)' Clarcmo1/t Qua rlcriy 3 (1955). Seene ofThollght, whieh transponed [him] beyond Measure" (giving
( 1\lelzke, E_ J. G. lldmuwl's StcllulIg ill d.T Philosophic dc! 18 fahrhundert. birth in due CQurse to tiJe 'Trealise), was the discovel'j' t.)¡nt this poil1t
( 1954- of view cOllld be carried over into t1le theoretical uomnin, anu could
O'Flahcrty, James C. Ullily fllld Langunge: A Stud.y in the P/¡ilMophy of there be employed iu lite solution of several oI the chief problems lo
( Joltal/11 G t'org H alllal'" _ Uni ,'ersity oC l\'orth C'lrolina Studies in lIJe Gcr-
whieh Locke "ud Berkeley had drawn attentioo, but lO IVhieh they had
manie Lallguages amI Lilcralures, no. 6. Chapel JlilJ 1952 (n~printed in
( hard lJaek, Ne'" York: .-\ 1\15 Press lne. 1966), Ilot been able lo give a satisfactory al1s",·e1'.'2
Smith, Rounld Gregor. J. G. HaJ1lall1l: A Sludy in CJII·i..,ialt Eú.•tOlliali.nn. The lelter itseU does 110t at aU support this interpretation. Ernest
( ~e\\" York: Harper & Brolhers 1960. Catupbell l\Iossner follo,"ys Kenlp Smith anu is more l)recise: he thinks
( Unger, Rudolf. Htl11lUIIIl ulUl die AujJd¡inmg , 2 \""015. Jena: 1\1ax Dieuerichs that Hume discovered in 1729 ·the extension of sentiment o\" feeling
1911 (reptillted Tlibingen: l\laxi\'eimayer 1963).
beyoDd ethles and aesthetics (to which it ",as limited by Ilutcheson) to
( inelude tite eut1.re reahn oC belief covering al1 relations DI malter-of-
Iact', especiaUy the relation of cause amI errect. (The intense cxcite-
<-
ment ",ith which Hume greeted his discovery coucerllillg the nature
l
oI crmsation in the spring oC 1729 is explaillable iu lenlls oC its implicn-
( tions... ',3 I-Iere, SLlIith aud l\1ossner are describing ",ltat mllsl ha ve
iJappened in lT29, not wlIat can be documented by the SQUl'ces wc have
l'
I at QW' disposal. "'illtout refuting the preceding interpretations, Dun-
( can Forbes givcs the following opinion in his recent book Ifumc's
PllI'losophical Polilics: " , . natural lnw teac1Jing ami Ne\'vtouian 01'
<- ~ Bacouian experimental science carne together, and allied to HUllle's
(
~ religious SCE'pticisfil , produced his famous H new scene oI thought", amI
( oue aspect "f this ",as a modern theory of niltlU'lll la,,"', 4 Agai 11, il is a
presupposition oI the interpreter that fHls up the g<tp and decides the
, eontentof llume's in:::'piration.
( _,1

l
(
l
( 118 Tite Begillllillgs of l-lume's PhilOSOPlzY~1
la what [01l0W5 1 intend to show that in the phrase 'a new scene oí
(
(
thought' Hume was not referring lo lhe beginning oí rus philosophy."
In faet he considers the turning point lo haye occurred, not in 1729
when he was (about ) 8 yenrs of age', but rather in 1731. Indeed, he
I turniug from his earlier flights of genius lo his OWD philosophy. Let os
( severely criticizes lhe periad l'eferred lo in lhe phrase and regareis it as
( belonging lo a prcvious phase oC his development. 1 shall, furthermorc,
ll")' lo define more precise))' what ",cr"e I-Iume's ideas in lhe )'C81'S ] 7':1·9-
( 51 and 1731-5~' Fiually, 1 hape lo sho", tIte origins of lhe djalectic of
empiricism and scepticism in lIull1c's philosophy.
( \V R ITI N G 1N 1 ¡-34 fram lhe vantage poínt of a twenty-three-year old
( Hume says: 'vrhen l was ahout 18 Years of age, there seem'd to be
open'd up lo me a new Scene ofThought ... '. The periad during which
(
he \Vas in a stale of high intcllectual excilement lasled only a few
( months, after which there \Vas a suddeo cbange: he experienced a
(
strange 'coldness', a 'Iowness of Spiri13'. Then again he found his
'Spirits at theil" highesl Pite}]', the IArdor', the 'higher Flights oC
( Genius' returocd, but he sank again ¡nto a depression. These mental
( states, the succession of flights of genills and apathy, led to a })hysical
illness, ",11ieh Hume describes in sorne delail in the same letter.' To-
( wards the end of 1750 he 510\\'1)' began lo recoyer. On his retllrn froro
( Edinbw'gh to Ninewells in lhe spring of 1751 he e:\."ppcted a further
recovel)' and, logetlier wilh this, a grealer stability in his intelleetual
<. life: 'But in lhis 1 \Vas mueh mislaken'. '\11)' \Vere the5e expectatioos
( not fltlfilled? Bis convalescence progl'essed, but now there "vas a yir~
tual1y qualitalive change, which manifested itself in his deyelopment
(
from a puny youth iato, in his ,,"ords, a 'most slurdy, robust healthful-
( like Fellow'. At the same time he becomes sociable, a 'good campan ion' .
( He has left lhe phase oI flights of genills and subsequent depression
behind him and now Hume, lhe cool philosopher we know, is born.
( 'Having now Time and Leizure to cool mr inflam'd Imaginations'-
l the 'now' refers lo his rellll'l1 lO Ninewells iUlhe spring of 1751 -I-lume
decides to lread a completely new path in moral philosophy similar to
( lhe tl'ail blazed in modern nallU'ol plülosophy. The object of his in-
( vestigation must first oC aH be human natw·e. Ooly in this ''''ay can one
escape tbe arbill"nriness oí sllbjective 'Fane)" and the illusion DI making
progress in knowledge by trusting lo the greatness of one's own genius.
t 'Vith this slep Hume makes a decisive break not only with aH previous
moral phiIosoph), but also wilh his own efforts in this fieId. At last in the
l spring DI 1731 he finds himselI. It is onl)' now that what he vvrites
( counls fol' him: 'Wilmn lhese thl'ee yeal's I find that I have scribbled
(, manya Quire ofPapel", he declal'es in the spl'ing of '754·
It is cJeal', lben, lhat Hume himself places the beginnings of ms
n EINlIAnD BR;\NDT
philosophy in 1751, and interprets these heginaings as the critical
l"etul"n Ollce again lo the crucial ph)"ase 'a new seene oí thought'. Il is
strange th3t no one has hitherlo rem81'ked on the qualifring wOl"d
'seemed' in 'There seem'd to be open'd up to me ... '. The eJl.."pressioD
'a new scene of thoughe itselI indicates n critical allilude on lhe part oC
the aulhol". Superstitiou, not philosophy, 'opells a world of its m·m, and
jlresenls us wit1l l1e\y scenes) aDd heings, aud objecls, which are aho-
gether new', w:riles Hume in lhe Trealise (p.271, ilalics added).6 The
e:\-pressioo implies a negalive evoluation and lherefore should uot be
taken as an indicalion of lile beginoing oflIume's philosophy.
In order to dNermine the characler oí Hltme's ])hilo50ph)' more
precisely it \Viii be necessary not only lo aual)'se the phase beginning
in 1751 but a150 to ideDli.f)r those faclors {rom his earlier period tbat
Hume believed he had overcome. "'''hat indeed was this new scene of
thought? l think we must cODclurle that it was based not on sorne new
idea 01" discoverr hut rather on a subjective eX]:>erience comparable to
Rousseau's Viacenues eX])erienee or to the visions of the mystics.' No\Y,
the only sure docnments of lhe early lile oí Hmne are Iris letters, and l
think they can give us the decisive hint. Tbe letter \vI'itteD 10 :tvlichael
Ramsa)'in Julrof 1727 shows Hume as living iD a world which we may
caIl one oí poetical-philosophical criticism: 'sometimes a Philosophel",
sometimes a Poel' 1S his motto in reading. 8 'Greatness and Elevation of
SouP he gives as the goal to,,"ards which he is striving. He finds con-
genial the spirit of Longiuus oC whom Hume says thilt he himselI wrole
in the grand and 10ft)" style of those poets wbom he as a critic porlra)'s.
'1 reael some of Longinus already alld l am mightily 4e1ighlecl ,'Yilh
him; 1 lhink he , .. is himselI 8n Author that may be cited for an
Example lo his own Rules by auy who shall be so adventul'Ous as to
w:rite ul)QTI his Subject.'9 It seems probable thot in 17'29 Hume let him-
self get invohed in the adventure of trying his hand at literary cdti-
cism, wliüng in the exalted and cnthusiastic style oí a )'oung genins
who was trying to express his experience oí the Great and Sublime. He
may have written in 5uch a fashion in order lo go be)'ond saber critics
like Pope and Addison. I lhink this is the only explanation of tbe cno-
teDt of tbe 'new scene of thought' that is based Oil the texts oC Hwne
and not in the imagil1ation aad tboughts of the iDlerpreter.
According to the new maxim one must examine hu.rn.an na tu re in
arder to Irame on tlris basis a theory of crilicism and morality tbat wiII
avoid the caprice of subjectivity. Herewitb Hume provides us wil11 the
basic plan of bis Treotise. Books 1 and 11 lay the foundations by in-
vestigating ideas aDd impressions. Raok nI, published separately, pro-
vides au applicarion of the results oI these investigalions to the field oC
 120 Tite Begiwu"ngs of Hume.'s Philosophy
morality. Hwne iatended to write a fourtb book. on criticism,10 Human
natw'e, he "Tites in 1734, 11 resolved to make ID)' principal Study, and
the Sow-ce frOlTI vdúch 1 wDu'd derive every Truth in Criticism as ",eH
as :i\1orality'.11
He wanls to inaugw·ate a new era in the Iield o[ moral philosophy
similar to that which had aIread)' taken place in natural philosophy. '1
fOWld that the moral Pltilosophy transmitted to us by Antiquity, labor'd
under the saIne Inconvenience thal has been found in thei..r natural
Philosophy, of beillg enlirely Hrpothetical, & depending more lt]XJll
hn'ention lhan Expel-lence'. cHas been [ound\ sars Hume-but by
whom? 1 Lhink il is oí the grealest importance lo know of whom Hume
was thinking here as a model [or bis Ilon-hypothetical philosophy.
Recellt il1vestigations would have us belie,e tlial his model n-as
Ne,,\'ton. But that it ,,·as Bacon, rather tliall Newtoll, whOln he had in
mind can be sho\Yn by cOlnparing tlle passages fron1 the letters of 175+
with a reference lo Bacon found in the inlroduction lO Lhe Trealúc. 'Ve
read in the ¡atter that moral pbilosophy in antiquity did not begin to
develop ul1til over a ceotw'Y nfter natural philosophy. Thales in-
augw·ated the latter, Socl'ates the former. In modern titnes the span of
time between thc re-pstablishment of these disciplines is the same. l\Jod-
ero natural philosophy was founded by Bacon alld uow moral philosophy,
"ith the exception of a few precursors, makes ilS appearallce again. 12
In Hume·s own philosophy, ltistOl)' has a.rri'·ed al a secand Socrntes
",ha inaugurates (a total alteration in philosophy" n complete 'reyo-
lution'.13
'~ías it then a 'i\e" tan-faced' generation he belonged to? Ir ",e COI1-
sult lile General Catalogue of the Uritish .i\Iuseum,14 \,e disco ver lhe
surprising faet that tltere had beco many editions of tite Opera omula
and of single \Yorks of I3acoD up te the end of the seveoteenth centurYI
al1d then there \Vas a gap, new editions hegillning again in 1750. There
were foul" editions of Lhe Complete IVorks (in Latin) from 1665 to 16g.h
then in 1730 \Ve have tlJe Opera om.lLia in Amsterdall1, aud in tlie Hlllle
real' lhe first edition of tite Complele ¡Vorks "i.th ElIglish text as n"ell
as Latin in London, [ollo,,·ed br the PhilosoplucaL !rorks, an Engli;h
ediLioll, i1l1755.IS
So Bacon was an author recliscoverecl ¿It exactk the tune Hume lIad
his crisis and uecisivc tUl"ning poillt. Perhaps n"~ may sny that Bacon
saved hilu [l"Oln the idals of his 0\\"11 imí:1gillation teachillg him that aH
we eall kuow must be based 011 experience. '1 believe 'tis a cerLain Fact
that most oC the Philosophers who haye gane befare us, ha ve beell
overthrown by the Greatll.ess oC tbei..r Genius ... ', Hume writes in the
letter oC 175.~; he eouId find in Bacon 'Quin et ah ingeuiorum acumiue
et agilitnte, duro suo motu ferulltur, pericululTI metuimus. Itaque
REINHARD BRANDT 121
hamillum ingen.iis non plumas aut alas, sed plumbum et pondera addi~
mus',16 The 'high llights of genius' are a source oC errors) a phiJo-
sopher must found his sciellce 00 experience that can be controlled, not
on his o\Vn imaginalion. 'Elenitn verum exemplar mundi in intellectu
humano fundamus; quale invenitur, Don quale cuipiam sua propria
ratio dicta verit. Hoc autem perfici non potest, nisi facta lUllTldi mssec-
tiane atque anatomia d.iligentissimn. Modulas vero ineptos lllllndorulTI
et tamqu¿Ilu simiolas, quas in philosophii phantasiae hOI11.inulll. extl'U-
xerunt, omnino dissipandas edicimus. '17
But what about Newton? 1 tllink 1 have been able to show clearly
that Hume saw himseU as the Bacon of moral ph.ilosophYi this does not \
exclmle a Newtonian innueuce in particular parts oC Hullte's phila- .¡
sophy. The proof that Hume took llacon as bis model in the 'Attempt
to introduce the eXJ.)erimental lVlethod oC Reasoning into i\IOl·al
Subjects' is indepelldent of the claim that Newtoll had an innllence 011
certain ideas of Hume.
In his essay, 'A Bacon-Facing Generation: Scottish Philosophy in the
Early Nineteenth Ceutury', J. Charles Robertson writes: 'Reflecting
a widespread development in the eighteenth centur)', the Scottish
experiluenlalists insisted that a proper nnderstauding of Nature lTIUSt
inelude a thorough invesligation into human nature or, as it was 50111C-
times put, a knowledge oC the very "principIes of understanding". In
this, Bacon was still their guide and mentol". He inspired caurillence in
the experimental methad as a means of reforming tite "plan of phiJa-
sophicalinquiry" lhroughout all brancltes oí science nnd Bot merely in
natw"ül philosophy'.t8 Befare R.eid Dud Diderot, el' Alembert and Knnt,
Hume rediscovered Bacon as the leading figure of modero science. Of
COluse, experimenlal reasoning was not the same in moral t'md natural
subjects.
'1\llol"al philosopby', Hume wriles in the IntroductioIl to lhe Trealise,
'has, indeed, this particular disadvalltage, which is 1I0t found in natural,
that in ¡yollecting its experimeuts, it cannot make them purposely, with
premeditation 19 . . • • 'Ve lUust therefore glean U}) our experiments in
tbis science from a eautious observalion of human life.... "-Itere ex-
periments of this kind are judiciously coUected and compared, n-e may
hope to establisIt on them a ~cience, which \-yill not be inferior in cer-
tnintr, aud wi11 be nlueh superior in utilitj' to anr otlter or human
cOIll.prehension' (PI). xxii-xxiii).
'¡Ve 511a11 no\V seo lJo\V J lUlll.e cOllcei,'ed his obsej"\'alional nnd C01"l\-
porative study of human oature iu the eady lhirties.
A P ERFECT EXAMPLE oC the expel-imel1lal philosophy Hume has in
f mind in the letter to a ph),sician is lile letter itself, ,,"ilh its penetrating
(
IZ2 1'he Begiwzings oJHume's Philosoph.y
(
( analysis of his mnl psycho-somatic development. A further example is
another leller oí 175'1., wriuen fram France LO Michael I\.amsar. There -'
( Hume propoullds the parndoxicrll lhesis, contrar)' lo t1le generally
( accepled opinioo oí the lime) that 'lhe Frel1ch ha ve lUore real Polite-
ness and the English the better l\1ethod of expressing il'.20 The reaSOD-
( ing behind this inversion is an ingeniolls analysis of social role-playing,
( of the relation helween feelillg and its cllstomaJ'Y expression J and the
speclfltor's reaction lo this. One has lo annlyse the Ielter 65 a pieee of
(
'criticism ' in t1le tl'adilion of Longinlls (without tlIe striving fol' great-
ness and elevalion), Addisoll and Pope;21 and then one mar observe
that Hume tries to base his observations on general rules of human
( nature. 'The l\Jind pleases itsclf by the Progress it makes in such TrinesJ
( & ,,-hile it is so supported makes nn easy Trallsilioll to something more
( materia1.'22 lIere we have an example of the use of the principIe of the
associalion of ideas in connection with belief. The 'eas)' transitioo' from
( one idea to anolher, 01' from inlpressions lo ideasJ as anyone acquainled
( witlt Hume's wl'ilings knows, is the very heart oC his whole p5)"ehology.
'Far in the same manner J as 50ldiers are found to become more eOlU-a-
(
~
gious in learning to hold their I\1usquets within half an rneh of a place
( appointed j & )'our Devotees feel lheir Devotion encrease by lhe Ob-
servance of trivial SuperstilionsJ as Sprinhling, K-neeling J Crossing, etc.,
so roen insensibl)' soften towards each other in the Practice oC these
( Ceremonies. '23
Hume would have read Mandeville, one oI the autllOrs he names in
the Trenlise as his predecessors (Introduction, p. ).."Xi, n.]). Compare
( tbe remarks on the process of socialisation in the lettel' to Ramsey andJ
( for example, the Fourth Dialogue Mande,~lle added to his Fable of the
Bees. Twice Hume speaks oC the expression 'you)" humble servant',
( which I\1andeville takes as a point of comparison in his Dinlogue. 24
Mandeville also wrote a book 011 Tite Origill of HOllour J pubEshed in
<..
1732,25 and Hume analyses the phenomenon of honoUJ' in modern
France.
( r would lil~e to suggest redaling two shorter picces oC Hume's to the
period of abo lit 1751~. The first oC these is generally dated rnuch earlier
(
than this, the second many years latero The rOl'mer is jAn Historical
EsS8)" on Chivalr)' and l\'lodcl'u Honour', which E. C.l\Jossner c1assifies
as a eallege composition. 26 The reasons :tvIossner gives a1lm,- us to con-
sider the date as still open to question. 1 am af the opinion that bolh 'the
( maturity of thought, keenness of analysis and essential sureness of
st)'le', to use Mossncr's ver)' QVYI1 words, and the COO} observation found
in this essay force liS to re-date tbe essay to the period after 1731. Like
lhe letter ",ritten from France to Michael Ramsay in 1754, the Essay
011 Chi valr)' is a s)'nk)"isis, 01' lo put it in modcl"11 lenns, a comparative
REINHARD BRANDT
study of human behavioul", inc1uding sorne indications oC the under-
l);ng principIes of human nature, as for example the eas)' transition of
ideas and impressions. FlIl"thermore, '\Ye fiud in the cssay echoes of the
letler to the doctor ,:vritten in the same Jear. 'TIllls we find when,
"ithout Discretion) it indulges its devout Fel'yours, that, working in
sllch Iairy-ground, it quietly burys itself in its O\yn "'himsies and
Chimera's, & raises up to ¡tseU a new sel of Passions, Affections,
Desircs, Objects & in shOl"t a perleetlj' ne\\' "'orld of its OWJl .... t Thi:;
is the very same way in which Hume criticized his own condition in the
p...iod of '729 to 1731.
DlIring lhe 't"ilight oC reason' the mind, left uncorrected by eithel'
llllderstanding 01' experiellcc, forms. stl"ange new ideas and 'schemes J of
behaviour among which are a grotesque heroism 8nd a 'chirllerical 8nd
affeeted })oliteness'. Hume atlelnpts to give o. ps)'chologicall)' naluralis-
tic explanation oC these fonns oC behaviour. The key to undel"standing
them and the mediaeval spirit out of which lhey gre'W lies in recog-
nizing tbat barbarie lhought-patterlls assimilated those oC lhe late
classical periodo This train of thought is in complete accord Wilh that
found in the two lelters of 1734.
.i\I)' second suggestion concerns a section fram the Essaxs (loter
Enquiry) Concerning J-Iumall Unt/crslanding )Jublished in ) 748, in
that part of 5ection 5 in which Hume apI)lies the pI"E\'iously stated la,,-;)
of association to the field of literary criticism (paragraph 4ff., omitted
by Selby-13igge, but printed iu the editiou of Hendel J. I nstead of examiu-
ing lhe principIe of association in greatel' detail Hume wallls to 'coosider
some oí the effcet.s of tbis connerion u])on the passions and imagination J,
as he puts it in lhe tl'ansitional paragraph (cf. the last paragraph). The
whole dissel'tation on the llnity of literary works, which 15 based 00 the
1m," oí associalion, does not contaio any explieit eross-referenees lo other
parls oí the \York. lt stands quite 00 its owo. In the previous pan oC the
section Hume speaks onl)' oí the association oí ideas. He does oot
demollstrate that the passionsJ or rather impressions oC reflectioD, pa1'-
tieipate in the sarne mechanism. Bul in the analysis of poetry passions
as well as ideas are lioks connceted wilh one anothel'. Also 1 Hume even
considered that lhe Enquiry could appear ,-vithout this part. 1 flln
therefore led to believe that it, like 5ection ) oJ 'or l\JiracJes', is a pro-
ducl oC tbe thirties and lhat it was plaoned, pe.rhaps, as a parl oC a book
'or Criticism' for inc1usion in the Treatise.
The origin of Hume's philosophy Jies in the ficld of morality and
criticism, understood as the observation of 'mores', actual human
behaviourJ which Hume tries to derive from general principies oí the
human mind, as) for example J the tendency oí ideas to conneet with one
anolher in 'easy transitions'.
(
TIte Begill1lings of Hume's Philosoph)'
(
Now, in al! this, \Ye have beco concerned witb the eOlpi.ricist side of
(
Hume's philosoph),. \\nat about Hume the seeptie?
( The praetiee of ethology, the polie)" of eool objeetive observaLion and
( expression v,¡,ith wlúcll Hume altempts lo re-establish moral philosophy
by in~esljgating human natw'e led him, as we saw, fraIn the field Di
( criticislu to the nnal)'sis of tile processes involved in cognition. It is pre-
( ciselr this polie)' whieh also led to a result that must have sW'prised even
him. Tltis is the final point we shall diseuss here.
(
Accordillg to his original plan of 1751 Hume wanted to analyse the
( processes of the human nlind as tItey actuallJ OCCLU, and not to allo,,"
himseUto be earried a",ay, as previous lllm'al plúlosophy had beco, iuto
(
oonstructing moral philosophy out of his o,,"n fanciIul iuventiolls. In
his obsen'aLional analysis of tlle human mind in its cognilive be-
( haviour he encouutered an uuexpected pheoOlnenon: the aualysing
spectator increasmgly fel! into insoluble difficulties. Basic contents of
( conseiousness sueh as the law of causality, the pereeptioll oí space, the
( idenüty of objects and even of one's self proved to be questionabLe (one
(
(
might even say, given the method chosen, neeessarily questionabLe).
To the e}"e oC tbe pW'e spectator all phenomena present themselves as
single facts in time and space, without any connection. The links \le
suppo~e to be there in reality prove to be the contradictory prouucts oC
( 4·
the imagination-tIJe very faculty Hume no longer wisheu to trust. 27
( 'Vas he thereb.\" Lluo\Yn back into the crisis oC 1750-51? In poiot oí
( Caet Hume doe~ refer back to that experience in order to describe the
scepticism to which the empirical anal)'sis oC the hUll.lan minu iu its
( insights revealcd in this letter; nor has there yet becn all)' atteJ1lpl to
cogniti'"e bcha,;our had led lúm. He speaks of tphilosophical melan-
( choJy and delirium' and oí the chimeras iolo which he had fallen. The
cool observation of the mind refiecting on itseli leads to a situation
( similar lo tltat produced by sublime and fanciful speculation: one iso-
( lates oneself from olber roen, loses oDe's way in lue aDd ultimateI)' loses
oneself in ,"'¡sions of \'anishing Cheshire cats and Boojums. For Hume,
the solution oí lhis seemingly iDsoluble difficulty and perhaps oC a re-
newed existential crisis, lies iD a new Elemellt as he himself describes
it in the Trcalise: 'l\lost [ol'tuDatelr it happens, that since reaSOll is in-
capable of dispellillg these clouds, nature herself suffices to lhat pur-
pose, aud ClU'es Ine of this philosophical melallchoLy alld delirium, eitlter
by relaxing this bent o[ mind, 01' by SOlue avocation, aIllI li'-elr im-
pression of m)' senses, \Yhich obliterate aH the:ie chimeras. 1 dine, 1 play
a garr1e of back-gammon, 1 C01H'erSe, aud am merry witlt mr friendsj
and when after thl'ee al' four hours' amusement, 1 wou'd return to these
speculations, they appear so cold, and strain'd, aud ridiculous, that 1
canuot find in 1UY beal't to enter into thelU Rny farther' (1'.269). lt is
coofidence in the acti\'it} of life as an independent realit)'. Lire itself
~L
I\EINHARD BI\ANDT
aud the actions necessary lo its sustenance remaill untouched by these
insoluble problems into whieh observing reason falls. Hume learnt that
human action oot only has a curative function for body aud soul, but is
also a domain ""hich cannot be disturbed by sceptical doubts. He charac-
terizes his confidence in acLion aud ttlle occupations of COlllLUon IHe" as
'belief', and by so doing he puts himself in the mainstream of the
sceptical tradilion tltat fiows [1'0111 Sextus Empiricus to MonlaigDe and
BarIe: human understanding gets into a quagmire in its search fol'
koo",Iedge, but, of cow'se J life is not thereby deslroyed. Practical life
according ta Sextus Empi.ricus, and revelation according to Montaigne
alld Bayle are areas ""hose foundaliolls caDDot be doubted. And also,
according to Hume, the faets of ordinar)' lue are the finn foundatiol1
that saves the philosopher when the whirlpool oC doubt threotens to
engulfhim.
..
1.
S'
Lclters, i. 13.
N. Kemp Smilh The PhilosophJ· 01 David l{ume (London 1941) pp. 12-13.
Ernest C. I\Iossner rhe Lije 01 David Hume, 2nd edition (Oxfonl 1970)
pp. 76-7·
DUJlcan FOl'bes ]{ume's Philosop"icnl Polilics (Cambridge 1975) p. 17, cL
pp. 59, 6S'
Perhnps the letler lo lhe physician coultl prodde the basis fol' a psycho·
5·
analytical invcsligation similar lo lhat undert.."\kcn by Erikson in thc case
of Luther. '''Ve 5till lack an analysis of the psychosomatic spnptoms amI
relate Hume's strtlggle for identity to lhe polar structure of this Jetter.
6. cL Addisoo, 'lm<lginalion ... makes ne\\' '-"Ol'lds of its o\\'n' (Spcctalor ,
nO·4'9)·
7, cL Letlel's, i. 17.
8. Lcltc7"S, i. 10.
g. Lcltcrs, i. 11. Hume could ha ve found lhis opinion eithcl' in Pope (Esmy
011 Crilicism, "crse 680) 01' in lhe Sprclator no. 105 (' ... as il is tlle Praisc
of Longinus, that he speaks of lhe Sublime in a Stile suitahle lo it'). Thc
samc quotation (rom Virgil thal Ilume usel! in his lettcr llIay he foulll! in
tllC Spectntol' no. ,~14. lnrormation about tlle ¡nnllcnee of Longilllls is
gi'"cn in lhe edition of D. A. Husscl (Oxford 196-+), espccinlly Inll'oduc"
tion xiii-xh-iii, and in lhe book oC Snllluel H. 1\lollk T"~ SlIblilllr. A
SllIdX 0IC,.iticlll Theoric5 in xr III-CCfltwT ElICI,wd (Aull Arhor 1960).
10. T,catise, p. 1)8, announccs' ... when we come to treat of the passions
[Book 11] and tile sense of heaaly'. 011 p. ~(6 the l'enectil'e illlpressions are
di'''ided into lhe calm onu lhe l'iolent, 'Of tite first kind is lhe sense of
Beauty and defonnity in action [Book lB, Of 1\lorals]) compositioll, amI
external objects'. On p. 504 \\'C read, 'This \\"e shall have occasion to ex·
plain more fully artcr\\'anls, when \\'e come to U'cal of bcnut)"'. The
I Tl'fntisc lioes 1101 contaill lhe promised fuller treatmcnt of hcaul)'"
Hume does nol say how he conceives tite logical I'elatioll bet\\"een the
¡
,~
11.
(
(
126 Tite Begi""i"gs 01 HI/llle's Philosophy
source and the truths derived froln il. His crilicism of all previous moral
( philosophy climinales lhe possibility of Hutcheson having played lhe
decisive parl in Hume's intellectual de'·elopment al this junClure.
HULcheson stresses cven in lhe title of his IJlquil]" of 1725 its affinity lo
a.ncient moral philosophy ('nceording lo the sCllLiments of lhe Ancient
( l\1oralists'). 'Yhen Hume. \V1·ilcs in the E(ldy 1\/cmornmla, 'The Moderns
llave nol tl'cnled MOl"llls so \Vell as lile Antients Illerely from thcir Renson-
( illg tn)"n, which carry'l1 lhem awny from ScntimcnL' (etl. E. C. l\'Iossner in
( Jourlwl oftlte HislOlT of Ideas IX (J94S) 49~-518 (517»1 wc mllsl be in a
later phase of his deveJopmcnt dU"ing which he came lo esteem llulchc-
son.
12. "Tis no aSlonishing rel1ection lO consider, Ihat lhe applicalion of e"lleri-
menlal philosophy lo !lIoral suhjecls should Conle aCter lhat to natural al
lhe distance of aboYe a whale ccntl1r)'; since we find in fncl, thal there
e ",as ahoul lile same inlenal betwixt lhe origins of these scicnccs; ami lhat
( reckoni ng: fl'om T 11 /1. L E S lo SO en,". TES, lhe space oC time is hearl}' eqllnl
lO lllal belwixl my Lord nacon and some late philosophers in El/glamI,
( who have begun to pul the science oC man on a new fooling, amI have
engagetl lhe attenlion, amI excitetl lhe clll'iositr oC lhe publie.' (Trcatis.:,
( Introd.uclion, pp. xx-xxi). Thc referenee lo 'some lale philosophers ... '
is nol in tolal harmony wilh the ehronological scheme lIume used before.
(
Only thal seheme is in aecordance wilh the faet Ihal Hume saw himself as
e the inaugnralor of a new philosophy. The opinion expressetl in the
senlence preceding the ahoye quolalion. that lhe 'scienee oC man is lhe
(
only solid fOllndatioll of lhe other sciences', is an idea tllnll Il1lne devcloped
( onlyafter 173+.
'3· Letters, i. 26.
l.~. British Musemn General Catalogue of Prinled Books (Photolilhographic
edition to 1955) yol. 9 (London 1965) pp. 779-809.
( 15· An edition of lhe Scripla iu. lIatll1"ali el wJiuersali philosopllia in Alllster-
t l1am 1685 is foJlowed by Lrttcrs alld Remaills oI the Lord Challcc!lor
Bacon in 1734 (London)¡ lhe re-eclition of the LallJ TI'acts begins in 1737
(Iast e<1ilion 1681). vVhen Hume wenl to France in 1734-, he could find
(
two ne", editions of the Essais . . . sur d¡ue,.s sujets de politiqlle et de
mora/e, Pal"is 173+ (the last previolls edition being from 16211). The
IJumean title 'The Essays lVloral, Polilical ílnd Literal"}' of David Hume'
( (1741) sounds like an imitation of the Baconian work.
,6. Francis Bacon 1f/01'A's, ed. Spedding, ElJis amI Heath (London 1857~4)
vol. 111, p. 638j ef. p. 572.
'7· Fl'aneis Bacon ¡VorAos, vol. 1, p. 218 (Novllm Orgalt1l111 1, cxxiv)¡ cL fUl"lher
vols. 111, p. 570 amI 11, p. 13. The reference to Thales and Socrates may
perhaps he traced back lo Bacon llimself, cL PlOL'llm Organum J, lxxix. Al
the end of Section 1 of lhe Ellqllily Cotlcanillg t¡'e Pliflciples of 1\10,.als
Hume repcats his argtlment of 1734. 'The other scientifical methodJ
where a general ahstract principie is Cirst estahlished . . . is a eommOll
source of ilJlIsion amI mistake.... l\Ien are now cured of their pass ion for
hypotheses and systems in natural phiJosophy, and will hearken lO no
argUl11ents but those which are derived from e:ll:perience. It is full lime
they should attempl a Jike refonnation in aH moral disquisilions¡ and
reject every syslem of elhies J howeyer suhtle and ingenious J which is not
founded on fnct and ohservation.' The poJemic again5l lhe deductive
1- REINHARD BRANOT
I melhod of labstrael science' clearly contain5 features of Bacon's own
critique.
~ 18, J. Charles Robertson '_0\. Bacon-Facing Generation: Scotlish Philosophy in
tlle Early Nineleenth Ccnlnr)" Jounwl of 'he }lislory oI P¡';{osoP¡'X
('97 6 )+,-
19. Bacon had hinted at lhis difference in a passage ahout human illlagination:
, ... anu in this it is hanl (as we llegan to say) lO make any ne\\" e),.lleri-
menl¡ for 1 cannol eommand m)rself to bclieve whal 1 ,\il1, .md so no
trial can be mnde' (lrorÁ";, "01. 11, p. 654)'
20. Lctters, i. 20.
:ll. The phrase, 'The Engliih Politeness is alwise greatest, where it appean
least' i5 taken from traclilionnl literary criticism¡ cL Longinl1s Oll thc
Sublime, ch. 17. The background of literary critieislll beeome5 clearer in
22.
the compa1'ison wilh the TIlles of t1ramaLic poetry.
Letters,i.21.
23. ihid. Here Hume is clenling wilh lite stimulalion of Ihe belienr's illlagina-
tion by means of eeremonies¡ eompal'e Bacon IJ-orks, "01. IV, pp. 400-1;
'VVith lhis is joined lhe in'Juiry how lo l'¡:¡jse nnd fortify the imngination
... it may be SpeciOllSly pretended that cercmonies, eharactel"s, charrns,
gesticulations, amulets , and the like, do nol deri\""e their power fmm any
tacil or sacramental contracl with evil spirits, hut serve only lO strengthen
and exalt lhe imagination of him who uses them. As like,,;se in religion
the use of images to fix the cogitations amI raise lhe de,-otions of those
who pray before them has grown common.' Hume takes up lhe same
theme in Treatise 1. iii. 8 ('Or the causes of beliefl).
24. Bernarcl Mandcville Th~ Fable oJ the Bees ... , ell. F. B. l\.nye (Oxforcl
192+, reprint J966)vol.lI, p. 183.
25. Bernard Mandeville _-in ElIqlliry ilIlo tlle Origjfl. 01 }Jollour alld the Use-
fuIlltss ofChristiallit)' ;n 1/'ar (London 1732).
26. E. C. J\'lossner 'Da"id Hume's "An Historica} Essay on Chi\'alry and
l\1odern Honour'" 11Iodtnl Philology XLV (19-4-7) 5-+-60 (57)¡ cf.
l\'lossner Lije, pp. 46-8. Tite only reason 1\10ssner gins for dating this
work to lhe college periad is tbe youthfuJ hamh"·iting. But considering
that we do not possess an exact hanrhniling analysis of Hume's manu-
scripls Mossner's argument is not cogenL. Hume ,,"ouId not ha"e kept
lhis fragmenl (he ne"\'"er finisheo the piecel) fOI" sentimental reasons, as
l\'1ossner suggests , bul fOl" the same re¡¡son he kepl the Essay 0/1 Miracles:
he lhought that he cOllld use it later and indeed worked the material into
his l1istory o/Ellgland (1762J Appendix)¡ ef. Mossner Lije, p. '~7.
27. Of course, 1 simplify lhe eomplicated process of Hume's de"\'"eJopmenl after
1731, and lhe influenee of Malebrache and Bcrkeley, and; abo,'e aH, of
John Locke.
(
128 GÜNTER GA WLICK
(
( few monthslater, however, he showed SOllleconcero. lo A Le.tterfroma
( of deislU only ohLic¡uely, if at alL, by hinting that it is scareeLy compatible
Hume amI the Deists : a Reconsideration
( scepticisDl goes togethel' wilh a .strong seDse oí religion, nnd adds: 'In
( IN A RECENT STUDY, James O'Iliggins has given nn interesting
account of tlle reLations betweeu Hume aud tlle deists. 1 He submits that
(
'betweeu HUlUe aud the deists there laya considerabLe gulf, although
there were silllilariLies between his opinions alld theirs'.2 Hume's
approach to religion, he argues, was Dot that of the deists J mainlr
because Hume was sceptical abollt the possible achievemel1ts of human
reasoll. 3 'Vhile 1 do Dol wish lo qllestion the Lruth of his conclusiol1, 1
( doubt if il is the \Vhole trutb of the matter. If tlle guU wos as deep aud
the similarities were as slight as O'HiggiL1S tries to luake out they were,
( test was betwixt Deists and Clu;süans; and when the news of my
how can we explain lile fact that Hume was labeUed a deist by contem-
( poraries as well as by subsequent historians? There must llave been
positi,-e [entures in him that agreed witlt sorne Cllrrent Botioo oI deis m
and tbus invited the label. No aceount of the reIations between HWlle
alld lile deists can tIterefore be satisfactory that does not suryey those
( IeatLU'es. As O'Higgins seems to file to g;ye a sOlnewhat selectiye account
of HUlue as weU as of the deists, 4 it is my intention in tItis papel' to give
sorne preliminar)' hints of a more cOlUprehensive vie", of the matter,
SEVERAL ANECOOTES related by biographers sholY that Hume was
commollly kno\Yll as a deist. 5 At several junctlU'es in his liIe he was
( opeol)' charged n-ith deism. As early as 17+4, when he \Vas a candidate
for the chair of MoraL Philosophy in Eclinburgh, the 'accusation of
<- beresr, deism, scepticislTI, atheism &e &c &c.' \yas started against hiul;
in 175!2, when he \Vas nominated for the office of Keeper of the Advo-
cates' Library, the 'violent cry of deislU, atheis111, and scepticislll' \Vas
raised; in 1765, he \Vas appoinled secretary to the Elllbassy in Paris 'iu
spite of atheislll & dcism' (as well as ,,-arious other faults which al'e not
relevant here).6 In 17'~9 Philip Skeltoll dealt brieOy nith him in a
work witb the suggestive title Ophiomaches: Or Dcism Rcvealed.' A
few years laler, he \,"05 even raised to the I'ank of a 'principal deistical
( ,'vriler' anu lreated at oppropriote length by Johl1 Lcland. 8 Both these
works had a wide circulatioll and iuOuence. 9 kelton anu LeIand can
be said to have slo.rlecl a traditioll which was alive tluoughout tlle
nineteenth cenlury and is even non- faintlJ' discernible. 10
How did Hume react to these charges? The accusations of 1744, he
(some,,-hat optimisticolly) says in a letter, 'never took, being bore
clown by the contrary authority of 0.11 the good company in tO\VU'.l1 A
cONTER GAWLlCK
Gentleman to his Friend in Edinhurgh () 745), he deals, at SOlUe length,
with the allegation oC scepticism and atheism but answers the charge
with that of scepticism. He poiuts out tho.t iD Socrates, Cicero and Huet
reality, whence come all lhe various tribes of hereticks, the Arialls,
Socinians aaci Deists, bllt from too great a confidenee in mere human
reasoD, wh.ich they regard as the staodard of every thing, and which
they will oot submit lo tite suped.or light of revelation?'11 This is one
among a number of fideistic remarks in Hume, but perhaps the only
one in tended to ward off the charge of deislU.
Occasionally, hon-ever, he seems to ha ve aecepted the charge. Giving
na account to Joho Clephane oI ho\V he was elected Keeper oC tlle
Advocates' Librarr, he says: "Twas vulgarl)' gi\'en out, tl1at the con·
success came lo the play.house, the whisper ran tltat lhe Christians
\'rere defeated. Are YOll DOt surprised tlIat we could keep out" popularity
notvvithstandillg tItis iJuputotion which rny friends cOldd Ilot deny to
be wen foullded?'1J .\nd in 1764, when he had n-011 the friendship of
Lord Hertford, he stated ,,;th some satisfactioll: '!\obody, henceforth,
Ileed be afraid to patronise me, either as a Scotsman 01" a deist. '14 At
other times he \Vas tlneas)' about tite imputation. In 1757 he asked a
friend to give his eompliments to DI' Leland and tell him. that he had
ceI'lainly mistaken hi5 character,I.5 anu ",hen l\Irs .i\Iallet, the wife of
Bolingbroke's editor, introduced herseU lo him in 175801' 1759 with tite
woI'ds "Ve dcists otlght to know each other', he sternly replied:
'i\Iado.m, 1 am no deist. 1 do na style myself so, neither do 1 desire to be
known by that appellation'.16
1 N VI EW O F TH E manifest disagreeUlent about IIume's l'elation to the
deists it \Yill 110t be innppropriate lo call to mind what he said in another
context: (Frol11 lhis eircumstancc alone, that a controversy has beell
long kept on foot and remains sLiU undecic1ed, \Ye mar presume 11lat
there is some ambiguity in lhe expression, and tltat tlle dispulants
arfix dirrerellt ideas to tite terms employed in tile eontroversy.'I'7 VVllOt
idea \Vas affixeu to tIle ter m by l}¡ose ""ho charged Hume w¡lh being o
deist, 01' by Hume when denying that he ",as a deist?
Let me begin with Hume. Sll'angely enough, his use of the tenn
seeros never to ha,e been iuvestigaled, although he ob\'iously used it
with various meanillgs. Relating the charges raised against him in
1744-,175 2 and 1765 Hume mentions several tho.rcl names', ,yh..ich, he
says, 'confound the ignorant'.18 The mere InlLltiplicity suggests that
(
flume and [he Dcisls: a Recollsideratioll
(
these Llames servcd as terms of reproach with liule Ol" no precise mean-
(
iug. O'Higgins rightly hinls lbal in his letters Hume adopted the"
( language oí bis opponents und used deism lin a popular sense, ns the
equivalenl of unuelief'.u That was COlumon usage in the eighteentb
(
cenlury, 1101 on1r in polemicalliterature,l° lmt 8150 in Hume's writings,
( fol' example, when he said DI Cicera that 'he avoided, in the common
candllel oí life, Ihe imput3tion of deism and profaneness'.2t It ",ouId,
(
however, he rash lo equate deism and Ill1belief as fal" as Hume is con-
( cerned, COl' wilh wllat right did he then deny l}¡at he "vas n cleist "'Ihen
( meeting 1\Irs .l\lallct? It is true he never IstyIed' ltin15ielf a dei5-t, and he
surel)' had his l'ensons cnot to be lnown by that appellation'J but eould
he sincerel} deny that he disbelieved tite Christian failh? On that occa-
( sion, at least J Hume ITIUSt llave affixed a more positive idea to the
termo
As a maller of faet, there are several instances of a }>ositive use of the
( ter ro in his wrilings. The passage quoted aboye fl'om A Lellerfrom a
Gentleman link:; the deists '\-vith lhe Al'ians and Socinians, in accordance
(
willl a sevcnteenth-century l1sage that cquated deist aod _'\otitrini-
( tnrian. 22 The point oí mentioning lhese pcople apparently Hes in their
being llribes oC herelicks', fol' a hm'ctic is 11 Christian with a differencc,
hut 5til1 a Christian. To use the word Ideist' in this sense perfectl), f-jued
( the apologetic }Jllrpose of the pamphlet, fo1' it 11l1t Hume 011 commoo
ground with his oppooeots. It would, however, again be rash to COI1-
elude lhat Hume in 1745 stiU considered himselI n Christian.
The tenn is used io still another sense in H umeJs Essays, for exarnpleJ
in the essay lor Superstitition aod EDthusiasm'. COlTIJ>aring the two
with regard to their political consequeDces, Hume remarks that sllper-
stition, by sllbjecting men to the priests, paves lhe way to t)Tanuy,
( wllereas enthnsinslll, being opposed to aUlhority, favours liberty (once
its first fire i5 spcnt). This is illustrated by an example from English
(
hislory: IOur sectaries J ""ha were formerly such dallgel'OU5 bigots, aJ"e
now become verr free reasoners; ood lile Ql1alers 5eem to approach
nearl)' the only regular body of deists in the univel'se , the literati 01' the
foUowers oí ConIucius in China.' In a note Hume eJl..l)lains the aBusion:
IThe Chinese Htel'ati have no priests 01' ecclesiastical establishment.'13
This would be immediately llnderstood b), the reader, for in the early
eighleenth centllry both the Quakers ond lIJe foBowel's of Confucius
were repeatedly 8])plauded by the deistsfor upholding natul'all'eligion ,24
nnd condemned by the orthodox for neglecting e:x"terior worship and
tradiLional institntions. 15 If Hume undel'stood by deist au adherent of
natural reHgion, and by natural rcligioll J knowledge of tbe existence oí
God, the divine attributes and the divine will in relation to maD, he
could ver)' weB maintain that he was no deist. He did 110t think such
I Natural Reu'gion given by N.Kemp Smith has beeo accepted for a long
J
GONTER GA WLICK
kDowleclge was attainableJ nor did he believe that natural religioo by
itself coulcl influeuce life. 16
In the same essay, Hume links the deists with lhe independents as
Imost opposite in their religiolls principIes, yet uuited in their political
ones ' clllring the civil wal's.27 This remark is expauded in the J-listory of
Creat Britaill , where he li.sts the groups making u]> the republican
part)': the independents, the millenariolls, and the (deists, wlto had no
other object than polilical libert)', who denied onliJ'ely tite truth of
reyelation l and insinllated thnt all the variol1s secls, so heated again:it
each other , were alike Iounded in foIl)' and error'. He names H.
1\1artenJ T. Cha10ner, J.I-larringtoll, A. Sidney, J. "radman, and H.
Nevil as lthe heads of this small di,·i5ion'.18 Hume, 1 lhiDk, ,,"ould haye
agreed with theil' l'eligions principIes hut nol Wilh theil' polítical
8s}Jirations. Is it possible that th15 was at the back oC his mind when he
made his disclaimer in the face of i\frs lVlaUel? After aH J se,"eral ofthe
deisls earlier in the eighteenth ceDlurr ,"vere known as 'common-
weallhmen'.29
Now ,¡y 1-1 AT IDEA did I-Iume's opponents affix lo the ter m when the)'
caBed him a deist? Those who seem to he responsible for his literary
reputation as a deist speak the language oí eighteenlh-centw'Y pole-
mical lilerature. Skelton does not offer a formal definition but gi,'es,
fram the JUouth of the deist in the dialogue, a 'Dei.:itical Creed ' COln-
pri;ing five articles galhered from Shaflesbury and TindaJ; they differ
in structw"e as ",eU as iD content fram the famous five artic1es laid
down by Lord Herbert, but keep ,,;thin what was commonly considered
as deism: the acceptance of natural religion and the rejeclion of
revelation. JO Leland's aCCOllnl is lTIOre e>""}Jlicit but on substantially the
same 1ines. He mentions the origins of deism in sixteenth-centurr
France and calls it a characterislic oC the modern deisls 'that they l'eject
llU revealed religion J aud discard aH l)retences to it, as o\\;ng lo im-
postlU'e 01' enthusiasm. In this lhey aH agree, and in professing a regard
{or natural religion, though they are far from being agreed in lheir
notionsofit ' .31
ThllS deÍ5m has two sidcsJ which we may call 'constructive deism J
and 'critical deism',31 aod any jlldgment of lhe relntions between .Hume
and the deists seems to depend 00 which of the two sides is emphasized.
lf the emphasis is 00 constructive dcism, Hume can be caUed a deist, if
at aU, ooly with strong qllalificationsj if the emphasis is on critica!
deism, he can be caBed a fulJ-fledgcd deist. How far Hume subscribed
to constructive deism (01'1 to use his own term, Theism) is still an opeo
question. The negative interpretation of the Dialogues concerning
(
¡-fume Glid the Deists: a Reconsideralion
(
time, although it has receudy beeo challenged by 'elsoo Pike." But
(
even 00 a positive interpretation oí the Dialogues, it is improbable t11at
r Hume weot further thao asseoting to the rudimeots of uatura! religiou
delineated in PartXII."
(
In the eighteeuth ceutm'y the emphasís was very much ou critica!
( deism, beeause natw'al religion was cornmou ground rOl" the deists and
( the orthodox. A strong cmTeut of Anglican theolog)' (best represeuted
by the BOj'le Lectures) cultivated natural religion as a suitable baüs
( for revealed religioo. What distíoguíshed the orthodox from the deíst,
\Vas 001 so much the content and method oí natural religion bul the
,·jew that it "as fiel suITicient for salvatiou. The deists, on the othel'
haud, refilled to go beyood uatural religiou because they fouud the
( evidences of revealed religion Dot cOl1vincing and sorne oí its doctrim·s
repellent. Hume's writings and lettel's no doubt sho", him 85 a critical
(
deist. The section lor l\Jiracles' Dol ouly was uuderstood hut was io-
( teuded as an attack 011 tite main proof of Clu-istianity.35 Leland atte5t5
( that it hacl been 'mightily adlllired aud extolled, as a masterly and Ull-
answemhlc piece',36 and even Dr Johnsoll admitted that its central
( J. ü'Higgins 'Hume and tIle Deists: A Conlrast in Religious Appronches'
thesis was right. 31 No!' can it be denieu that Hume fonDel so me of th~
( docu'ines and institutions oí Christianity unacceptable; he spoke of
super:;lition, fanaticism, alld intolerance in the tones of an iIl\'eterat~
deist. If his opponents had knowu his private letters they ,youJd ~w-ely
haye beeu collfirmed in their opinion that he ",as one oí the hated
tribe. The)' read the Ilole 011 priesls in the e~say 'Of i\ational Character~'
with indignatioo,38 but what ,,"ould lhe)' have thought of his inteution
'to "n-ite a Supplement lo Gulliver, containing tite Ridicule of the
( Priests'? Swift binlself lnight have written it, Hume sars, if he Itad nol
been a par~on. 'But Priests are so jealous, that they caullot bear lo be
\. tOllched 011 that Headj and for a plain Rensan: Because ther are COIl-
sciolts theJ' are really ridicldous.'39
Ill~tead of quoting further evidence fol' what seems obvious, 1 ,,-i~h
to raise a final question: does the COlDlllOll definition of dei~m fit the
c1eists' views and intentions? Although yer)" few writer~ have considered
this, 1 do not think it can be taken for granted.-4O After all, the coI11I110111.,·
accepted definitioll has been givell by thrologians olld refiects lheo-
logica! bia!:=.41 In truth, scarcely anybody ever said, iu so many word~:
tllat Chri~tianity originated from imposlure or that there was no such
thing as reyelalioo. Of course, those who did not say !:=o, yet lTIOY ha"e
\. thought so; but ho,," do ,ye kno,," they did? If we toke the trouble to
\. studr their work.s we rind that the evidence often points the other way.
Lord Herbert expressly allowed fol' revelatioll,42 and from 17300n-
l wards seyeral writers spoke of 'Christian deism', which they did Bol
feel to be a contradiction in terms. 43 re the rejectioll of revelatioll was
~L
GÜNTER GAWL1CK '55
not a necessary COlldition for deisID, neither was rationalism. Lord
Herbert faunded religion 00 natural ill5tinct, Joho Trenchard on
ignorance and fear, Thomas Chubb 00 practical reason ralher than on
demoustrative proof." Nor did all tbe deists think that uaLm'al religiou
nourished io the beginniugs of history." What characterized aJl of
them was the aim of making a c1ean sweep of superslition aod priest-
craft, intolerance oad religious persecution, by placing morality on a
fooLÍllg illdependelll of revelalion."6 Rationalism "vas a menos to tllis
end no more. Hume was in sympatby ,vith the end but 1I0t wÍth the
means; therefore, he developed meaos of his own. 1 submit that if 'oVe
take our concept of deism from the works of the deists , not of their
opponeots, we may find Hume in greater agreement wilh tlle deislS
than is presently ackl1owleclged. 'Vhat separated him ú'om them ...vos
not his rejection of rationalisnl but his final despair of any means lo
eradicale evils as deeply rooted in hmnan nalure as those mentioned
aboye."1
JOllnlfll of 1'11l:ological Stlllijes 22 (1971) pp. 479-50 l.
2. O'Higgins, p. 4';'9·
O'Higgins, p. 492.
3·
.4' O'Higgim, for example, el1tirely fails to mention tite section '?f Miracles'
ami starts from a definition of deislu lhal excludes the doctrines oC some
oC the more prominent deistical 'Hilen, such as Lord Herbert, Thomas
Chubb, and Thomasl\lorgan.
E. C. l\'1ossner Tite Life of Da¡;id Hume (Edinburgh and Auslin 195+) p.
5·
57 0 - Tite well-known story oC ha\\" Hume slipped into tite bog amI. ,,-as
rescHed by an ald fish-wife has two varirml readingsj see l\'lossner Lifc, p.
563 and J. Hill BlIrtan Life {md Corrc.tpolldcnce nI
Dflt;jcl HUllle (Edin~
burgh 1846) \'01. 11, p. 458. 'l'hat Hume was considered flll alheisl is JiRe-
wise shown by anectlotes: see I\'1ossner LAfr, pp. 4 L 1, 60 3.
6. Lcttrn, i. 57, 165.510.
LomIon 1749, yol. I1, pp. 20-2. Skeltan originally did nolmention ] ll1lnej
7·
he iucludeu him. just before going into prinl, at lhe instigation of Jolm
Conyheare, n di\-ine k..nowtl for ha\'ing answeretl Maullew Tindal.
Curiousl}' enoltglt, 'Hume the infidel' is said to ha\'e alhised Andrew
Millar to publish Skelton's work..; see l\Iossner Lifr, p. !!3 2 .
A riclc oftlle Prillcipal Deist¡eal lVritcrs oftlte La!1 ami Prescnt CClIIIIty
8.
(Lomlon 1¡55) yol. 11, pp. )-135. See also Lelancrs SII¡Jplc11lCllt lo IIIC
Fint Ulld Sccol/d rolumes of thc VicUJ of the DcisliO:lll lVritcrs (Lamloll
175 6 ) pp. 68-1.2:-. After the publicalion oC "01. 1 in 1:-5'h Lcland was 'put
in miml of n considerable oJltission [he] !Jau been g\lilty of in lIoltnking
nOlice of 1\11'. Hume, who was lookcd \lpOn as being one of lhe mosl
subtil writen that liad of late appeared against Chrislianil)" (Prerace lo
vol. 11, p. iii).
Opltiomaehf!s saw a second edition in 1751 amI was lranslaled into German
9·
by )1. Th. Chr. :'\littelstedt Di~ offe"barte Deislt!rc.l· (Braunschweig nnd
( 154· Hume alld {he EJeúts: a Reconsideralion
( Hildcsheim 1756). Leland's work reachec.l lile Iifth edilion in 1766 and
was reprintec1 as late as 1837i sce T. E. Jcssop A Bibliographx of David
( Hume alld 01 Scottüh Philosophy (Loudan 1958) p. 108. There is a Ger-
man translation hy H. G. Schmic.lt Ah,-i} der vorlleh11lstell dei51ischcIl
( ...vriler' on account of a few pages in an oelln'e oC nlan)' '-aJumes (e.g.,
Schrifictl, die ill d.:m loorigt'1L u"d ét'lJC'llwarLig.:" J.lhrJllmdt'rt in Ellgtulld
( bekalllll gewol"dcn sind (Hanllovcr 1755), which \Vas revie,,"ccl by Lessing
in lile Berlillisc1u.! Privilcgirtc Zcitullg¡ sce Lessing's Siimtliche Sc1wiftCJI,
( e,l. .1\... Lachmanl1 alld F. l\lullcker (Stultgart 18go) vol. \', pp. 4-E>-5. In
lhe 175°5, Gennan anthors commonly mcnlioned anll criticisetl Hume
( ¡¡long willt lhe deists; see lhe prcface to Pnrt J 11 oC G. "'Y. Alberti's Briefe
betrl'.Di:Jll/ (1m allcrllClICslClt Zustlllld de,. llcligiolt fllld de,. lVisullscha!tf:lL
ilt G,.oss-BrilalllliCII (Hannover 1752), in which pal"l or the seclion 'or
( l\'liracles' is translatt"d into German. Ill1me's Ircatmenl oC miracles was
abo criLicised by Th. Chl'. Lilienlhal in Die Kili;: Sache dcr. . góttlichm
0ff...llbnrlmg, wide,. di;: Feillde derselbclt crlL'iCSCIL U1ld gl!rettt!l, Achter
Theil (Konigsberg 1758) pp. 970-1110. In the s.une renr, Daniel Comicles
( c.leCencled Thcjl!s phi'osopJ'¡cnc j,wllgurales lIumio nlque Boli1lgbrokio
deistarum n:celtlissimorum coryphaeis Opposiine at the l1nil'"ersity oC
( tioned in Diderot's EIIDyclopédie, art. Déistes. The passage quoted in the
Erlangen, which dealt mainly with Hume's first Ellquir)": lhe aulhor
( aeknowledged Hume lo be greatly superior lingenio et aCllmille' to the
other deislS on accounl oC his argumcnt against lhe proof Crom miracles
( (p. g), but called him 'sophistam et cleistarllm pessimllm' for his news on
liberty and nccessily (p. 11). Hume is briel1y mentioned, along wilh
(
Bolingbroke, in Chr. M. Pfaff's AClldemisc1Je Rcdm tiber den Ellllt'urff der
( Theologiac Allticleisticac (Franck f urt 1759) p. 50.
10. G. V. Lechler accorded n chapler to Hume in his Geschichte des tIlglischw
Deismus (Stllltgart and Tühingen 18..p ) pp. 425-36. He stressed his im-
portance as 'die Vollendllng des Deismus, soCern sich dieser in ¡hm aufhob
und verneinte' (p. 425), a "iew which has a linClure of Hegelian dialectic.
Lechler's Gcschichlc des ellclischm DeiJnJUs has long been the standard
work on the deisls (there is a reprint by Georg Olms Verlag, Hildesheim
1965); it had a considerable influence even on English speaking authors.
Among those who made use of il and placed Hume in the tradiLion of
( deism are A. S. Farrar in A CriticaL Hislory o/]iJ-ee Thought in Refcrellce
lo the Christian Religioll (London 1862) pp. 208-16; J. JIllllt, who called
( Hume thc 'mosl sagacious of al1 lhe deists' in his Jiistory o/ Re/igious
Thought in Englond from the Refonnatio1L lo the End ofthe Losl Celltury
(London 1873) yol. 111, p. 184i and J. Orr in ElIglish Deism. lls Roots olld
l ils Fruiu (Grand Rapids 1934) pp. 165-'71. J. 1\1. Robertson in his Hislol'Y
01 FreeIhollg},l Ancient and Modern, 3rd edition (London 1915) ~ol. 11, p.
174 seems lo exaggerate bolh ways when he states: 'Hume 'note ex-
plicitly as a deist¡ and only in his posthumolls Dialogues did he pass on lo
the atheistic position.' See aIso his Dynamics 01 Religion, 2nd edition
\ (London 1926) p. 155. R. N. Slromberg gives a weH-balanced account of
Hume's position in Religious Liberalism in Eighleenlh Centll.ry England
( (London 1954), in two sections of a chapter enlilled IThe Definition of
Deism' (pp. 64-9). The implicitly suggesled c1assification is supporled by
l the inte'l)l'elation that Slromberg gives lo Hume's religious ideal: 'Thc
cnlightened few wi.ll be deists if anything' (p. 68).
l 1 l. LeUers, i. 57,
l 12. Ed. E. C. MossnerandJ. V. Price(Edinhurgh J967)P' 2),
(
GÜNTER GAWLICK
13. Letlers, i. 166.
14. Lelters, i. 428; see also lhe anecdotc in J. HiII Burton Lije, vol. JI, p. 444,
15. NCIIJ Lellers of David Hume, ed. R. Klibansky and E. C. l\'lossner (Orlord
1954) p. 43· Hume occasionall)' complained of being treated as an 'infidel
Letters, i. 351), but took it in good humour when his complaint met with
a wittyreply; see l\10ssner Lije, p. 545.
) 6. Mossner Lije, p. 395.
17. Ellquiries, p. 80.
lS. Lelters, i. 59.
19. O'Higgins Hume alUllhe Deisls, p. 479.
20. e.g., in The Deist Slrelchetlllpon a Delllh-bcJ: O,. o Liuely Porlraitrtre 01 a
Dying llIfidel, a pamphlet dil'ccted ngainst Hume in 1755; see 1\lossner
Lije, p. 343.
21. Tite lValuraL JIislory o/ Religioll, ed. H. E. RoOl (Lonclon 1956) p. 59.
22. See lhe quotalions froro Thomas Blount (1656), Elisha Coles (1676) and
Jolm Kersey (J702) in C. ",Yelsh 'A Note on thc 1\leaning oC Deism'
AuglicOI1 TheologicoL Rcview 38 (1956) 161-2. This nsage 15 also men-
text from A Leller fi"om a Gelltlemafl is echoed in Part J of the Dialogues
cO'lccnling Nalw'ul Religion, whcre Philo remarks thal'during ignorant
ages, such as litase whiell fol10wed Ihe disso)ul ion of the aneienl schools, the
pl'iests perceivcd, lhat Alheism, Deis111 1 01' heresy of any kind, could only
proceed from the presumptllous questioning of recei,"ed opiniolls, and
fmm a belief, that human reason was eqllal to everythillg' (The Pltilo-
sophicaL IVorks of David Hume, ed. T. H. Green and T. B. Grose
(London 1907) yol. 11, p. 389)'
23. Phil. Irorlrs, vol. 111, p. 14.9. Hume's account of the Quakers in Ihe His-
!orx 01 England mentions the absence of priests among them but does not
refe)' to deism 01' Confucianism (London 1848, ""01. v, pp. 447-51).
24. For lile cleists' esleem of lhe Quakers see, e.g' J 1\1. Tindal ChrisliollitT as
O/d as lhe Crealio11 (Landon 1730) p. 172; for Confudus, ¡bid., pp. 341--2.,
and also Dolingbroke TVorlrs, ed. D. i\'1alleu (Lonclon 1754) vols. ] v, p.
206 ff., v, p. 228 fr. J. M. Robertson rema)'ks: 'Thc praise of Confucius is
the note of deism; und (Gilbel't) BUl'l1et l'ightly he Id lhat no orlhodox
Cllristinll in lhose days would sound il' (flislorx ofF/'cethoughl, vol. II I p.
11 1).
25. For lhe ol'thodox assessment of the Quakers as deists s~e G. Keith The
Dcism 01 IVilliam PellIL ond his .Brtthrm (London 1699) and Ch. Leslie
A Short alld Easie Method wilh Ihe Deüls, 4th edition (London 1709), p.
54. In A Rep,·ejmtation. ofOle Presenl Slate 01 Religioll, wilh regard lo lhe
ucessilJe GrolVlh of llljidf!lily, lIeres)' and Profanencss it is said that the
Quakers 'in several of their Trealises, in lheir Catechisms and Primers,
have taught the Rudiments of the Christian Faith in such l\ manner, as to
make it seem to be Hule mOl'e than a complicated S}'stem of Deism and
Enthusiasm' (Landon 17)), p. 5)' See ful'ther C. J. Abbey aud J. H.
Overton The English Church in lhe Eighteenth CeTltllry (London ) 878)
vol. 1, p. 560 fr.
26. In his early memoranda Hume notes that 'no religion can mninla.in il-
self in Yigour without many observances lO bc practis'd on all occasion~'
(E. C. Mossner 'Hume's Early Memoranda, 1729-1740: The Complete
 (
( 136 Hume and lhe Deúts: a Reconsideralion
( Text' Journal 01 tite Hislory af Ideas IX (1948) 503)' Tite text quoted
belongs to a series of noles written down probahly bel:'.... een 1730 and 1734.
( 2.7· Phil. IVor/rs, ~ol. llIJ p. 150. In the very next sentence, Hume remarks
that lthe leaders of the \Vhigs have eilher becn deists Of profest latitmli-
( narians, that is friends lo toleration ami indifferent to auy particular sect
of Christians'. The description neatly fits bolh the deists and lhe latitudi-
(
narians, aJthough lhe deists, in both respects, went further than the lali-
( tudinarians; sce G. Gawlick ITlte English Deists' Contribution to the
Theory of Toleration' Studies o/t Voltaire aud the Eighteenth Cerltwy 152
( (1976) 823-35. That Hume connccted \'Vbig principies with indifferenee
to the Christian sects is shown by his letter lo John Clephane in 'whieh he
(
admits tl.1at in the Hütory o/ Grea' Britain his 'views of things are more
( confonnable to "'hig principies' and antieipates the conclusion readen
will draw fram his treatment of religion: 'As 1 run ayer all lhe sects
( ,uccessively, and 'peak oC each of them wi.Lh some mark oC disregard, the
reader, putting the whole together, concludes that I am of no sect; whieh
( to him will Appea.r the same thing as the being of no religion' (Letters, i.
Z37, O'Higgins, Hume Ulld the Dcists p. 479, gives lB February 1757 as
(
the date of Lhis letter). This secms to lead hack to Lhe identificaholt of
( deism and unbelief.
28. Jiistory o/ EIIglalld, .01. v, p. 3"6. OC Chaloner the regicide J..-\ubrey
( reports that 'he ",as of lhe Natllrall Religion' (Brie! Lives, ed. O. Lawson
Dick(Londoll'958)p.61).
29· vi?., John Toland, John Trenchard, amI Thomas GOI'don; see C. Robbins
Tire Eighlecntlt-CCtllwT CommolUuealthuut.1t (Cambridge, Mass. 1961) pp.
88-l53, and 1. Kramnick Bolingbr'oke und his Circle (Cambridge: Mass.
'968) pp. 2S6-60.
50. Ophiomaches: Or Dcism Revealed, 2nd edition (London 1751) vol. T,
pp. 54-5· For Lord Herbert's five articles, se e, e.g., The Autient Rd;gioll
oftlzc Gentiles (London 1705) pp. 5-4.
(
31. A View oftlte Principal DeisticallVriters, 5lh editioll (Londan 1766) yol.
( 1, p. 2.
52. These tenns were first used by Leslie Stephen in his Hi!tor:r of ElIglislt
( TllOUght in lhe Eighteclllh CfIltwy (Loudan 1876). There they are the
headings of Chapters 111 and IV respeetively, which treat of two different
g~onps of deistical \Hiters. l\ly use of the tenns diffen from Stephen's, it
wdl be noted.
Sce N. Kemp Smilh's introduclion to the Dialogues (Orlord 1935, 2nd
eoitian Edinbnrgh J91~7, reprintcd lndianopolis n.d.), and Nelson Pike's
coJ1ullentary in the Bobbs-l\'lerrill Text and Commentnry Series (In-
dianapolis 1970) esp. pp. 20+-58. 1tshould be noted that e"en prior to the
posthumol15 puhlication oC the Dialogues, Hume's adherence to natural
religion was questiolled. In 'pite of his complaint, the T,.eatise of Human
Nalure airead}" seems to have 'excited a murmur among the 7.ealots', for
in A Lettcr jr0111 a Gentleman Hume found it necessary to assure tite
public that his theory of causality did not endanger the argumellt from
design (p. 23). Lelaud, who reckoned Humc amona the lprincipal delstical
writers', nnertheless charged him \\;th striking at the foundations of
naturaJ reJigion (A rieto 01 the Principal Deistical "'riten, vol. 1, pp. 259,
z7 2 , 285)'
Phil. lVorks, .01. tI, p. 467. Whether these rudiments add up to a system
GÜNTER GAWLlCK
of natural religion in the traditional sense of the word is a matter of in-
terpretation. Hume himself obviously wished to retain only the minimum
content of religion, as a ]elter, written lO "'illiam Mure of CaldweU in
1745, shows, which equates religion with 'the Praelice of Morality and
the Assent oC the Understanding to the Proposition that God exists'
(Letters, i. 50). lf we accept this as nalural Tcligioll and define deism as
the acceptance oC natural religion and lhe rejection of revelaliol1, it makcs
sense to call Hume a deist. But if we define deism as the doctrine tltat
natural religion is sufficient Cor salvation (see Stromberg Jleligious
Liberalism, p. 55), it hardly makes se me lO call Hume a deist, for the God
he accepted could scareely be said to be coneerneu witlt tite desliny of mano
55· J. C. A. Gask.in has shown, convineingly, 1 think, that in the section 'Of
Miracles' Hume was 'in part concerned lo answer (Thomas) Sherlock's
Tryal of the lVitllesses', Dile oC lhe foremost cOlltriblltions to the deislic
colltroversy on Lhe orthOOox side (' David Hume and the Eighteenth·
Century Interesl in Mirades' Hcrmathenn. 99 (1964) 80-92). In addition,
several passages in that seetion seem to be designed in reply to Charles
Leslie's Short alld Easie MetllOd ruilh t¡'e Deists, a pamphlet first pllb-
Jished in 1698 amI printcd as late as 1884 (the British I\111seum Catalogue
and the National Union Catalogue lOgclher list about fifly different
editions of the work). 1t has been noted that Hume's spceifie criticism of
tite proof f1"om miracles was parallelled in dcistic literalurej see J. M.
Robertson I-liSt01 J oJ Freelhoug¡'t, .01. JJ, p. 180, whose conclusion that
Hume developed a proposition la id down beCore him in 1741 is, however,
unwarranled because Hume himself dates his own argllment as early as
l754 (Letters, ii. 561).
S6. View oftlle Principal Deisticallf'rilers vol. 1, p. 28+.
S7· James Boswell The Lije of DI' J01IIISO/l, ed. S. Roberts (London/New
York 1949) vol. JI, p. 137. Johnson lhollght that the proof from mirades
retained some force as it went logether ",itIt lhe proof from prophecy (amI
the interna} e"ldence). liad he studied the first Ellqlli1), more attentivcly
he might ha.e seen that Hume c1assifiet1 prophecies as 'real miracles'
(Enquiry, pp. 130-1), so that iC he dealt a decisive blo\\' against one proof,
the other feH as \\"el!.
S8. Phil. IVo,.ks, vol. IJ J, pp. !Z45-'7' See also the letter to Jolm Clephane in
which Hume draws a comparison belween prieslS and apolhecaries on the
one hand, philosophers and physicians on tite other (L('tters, i. 150)' .
39· LettC'r-s, i. l53. Se"eral of the l1eists expresscd a similar .iew of thc priesl-
hood by qlloting the saying attribllted to Cnto Cemol'ins: IMirari se aiebnt,
qnod non rideret haruspex haruspieem CUIll .idisset.' See G. Gawlick
'Cicero in the Enlighlenmelll' Stlldies 011 roltnire alld lhe Eig1dcenth
Ceraur)"!Z5 (1965) 66+. For Hllllle's iuterest in the hislory of lhe church
see l\lossner L~fi.·, pp. 484-5 aml )1. i\1orrisroe 'II\lIne's Ecclesiastical
HisLory: A New Letter' Eng/üh St.udics 55 (197!Z) 4-51-5.
4°· A notable exception is A. 1\. "lVinnett ''''ere tile Deists "Deists"?'
Clmrch QuarterJy Revicw l61 (1960) '(D-(. O'Higgins simply adopts what
he calls 'lhemost complete analysis and l1cfinitioll oC dcism' from Samllcl
Clarke's Boyle Lectures for 1705 (Hume a"d the Dcüts, p. 479)· As a.
malter of fact, Clarke gives no more than a c1assification of the deisls in
four groups l1istinguished by \""8q;ng degrees of conformity wilh lhc
tradilionnl Christiun concept of Gol1; see his Discow'se cOllcerning lhe
(
(
1 ')8 J-Ilune miel {he Deisls: a Reconsidera/ion

UllcJulIlgcabJ.: Obligations of Natural Religion (London 1706) pp. 19-..pZ.

1
I
NELLY DEMÉ

( fl. There are vcf)' few explications oC the meaning of deism from the pen of
lhe deists themseh-es. This is partly due lo circumstanccs. Originully the
( na me of deist was assumed by those wha clicl nol commit themselves lo any
(
f01"1n oC rc,-ealcd religion but wishetllo stl'css that they were 110t nllleisls. La JlIléthode Newtonienne
Very soan, howc",er) jl hecamc a lerm of reproach and was avoicled by
those who were cntitled lo il. As fal" as 1 know) Lord Hel'bert¡ 'the father et les Lois Empiriql/es de l'Anthropologie
(
oC English deism\ never med lhe name. The few uuthentic statemenLs oC dans Tl'aité II
( tl('islll¡ e.g.} Ch. Blount's 'Summary Account 01' lhe Deist's Religion' in
Gracles o/ Rl'IlS01l (London 1693) pp. 87-96, the anon)'motls Deism
( F.lirly Slatcd aml FIILLr Villtlicaled (London 17,~6), and a fe\\" scaltered A PPLIQUER UNE méthode newtonienne pollr élever a la science uoe
remarks br Thamas Chubh, were largely neglected by contemporary as théorie générale des passions, telle est la tache que Hume se propose
(
,,"eH as modern authors. claus le LiV1'e 11 du Traité. Selon Norman Kemp Smith, l'entreprise
( 42. De rerilale (London 1645) p. 225. Note his proviso that re,·el.ltion must anrait tourné mal. Hume aurait-il manqué son but? Du poiot de vue
nol eounteracl the moral tendellcy of natural religiol1. In his auto-
(
théorique, les 10is de l'association qu'il établit seraient fantaisistes et
hiography (eel. S. Lee, 2nd edition (Loudan 1906) pp. 133-4),' Herbert
tells llS that he \\"as encoul'aged, br a sign from heaven, to pnblish De inutilement compliquées. Du point de vue téléologique, ce Livre II
( rcritate. No maller what degree of authenticity the stor), may have, Her- serait un échec puisqu'il serait pOlU' le moins inutile par rapport anx
( herl WOllld not ha.e told it if he himseJf hael thought it inconsistent ",;t}1 lethical problems'. _'\u reste, Kemp Smith attribue a. Hume dans ce
his deism. Incidentally, it ",as John Leland who bronght this part of Livre II une fin ohlique: il aurait simplement pour r61e d'illustrer une
( Hcrhcl't's unpublished autobiography to public nolice. Leland had 'no
méthode, celle qlli a élé employée des le Line [; comme tel, il serair
doubt of his LOl'Clship's sincerity in this account' (T.riew oJ lhe Principal
( Dcislic IVrilcrs, vol. 1, p. 2.~). 5ubordonné a l'épistémo1ogie. En conséquence a tous égards le Livre
4.3. The term 'Christian deism' was first med, as far as 1 know, by i\1. Tindal II 5erait un échec. En fait de connaiS5ance théorique, il serait stérile.
( in Christiallitx as Old aS lhe CrealiofL (London 1730) pp. 368 ff. Eariler in Et la fin mOl'ale 'lu'on pOlU'rait légitimement en attendre serait
( tlle eighteenth century, one of the speakers in Shaftesbul"Y's Nloralisls manquée.
declared himself 'avene to the cause oC lheislTI, Ol" the name of a deist,
Cornment excuser Hume? Le plus expédient est de faire de ce Livre
( when taken in a sense exc!usiye of revelalion' and hnd no 'patience to hear
the name of deist (the highest of aH names) decried and set in opposition II du Traité UD péehé de jeuuesse-mais il faut a10rs rendre eompte
( to Christinniry'j see Characterislics, ed. J. 1\1. Robertson (London 1900) de la maturité relative du reste de l'reuvre, dont on pent démontrer
( .01. lJ, p. 19. Vol. 1 of Thamas Morgan's main work has lhe form of a qn'il est une partíe integrante. Ou bien l'on essaie de limiter, malgré
dialogne bet"'een 'Philalcthcs a Christian Deist, and Theophanes a Hume lui-lnéme, l'importanee 'Iu'il attache aux lois de l'association,
( Christian Je"". For an explanation of what Morgan mcans by 'Christian
dans leur foodement et daos lew' application-mais l'interprete peut-il
Deism' and in what scnse he even acknowledges the necessity (1) oC
( revelation, scc The Moral Philosopher, 2nd edition (London 1738) pp. s'y hasarder saos l)orter atleiote a ]a valeur sciel1tifique de 'la théorie
J 44, 41l. In T/le Lije oJ JoJm Buncle, ESq'l n ficlitiolls biography giving générale des passions? 11 se trOllve, enfio, selon Kemp Smith J que
( .. n nccollnt of the nuthor's religiolls views, Thomas Amory distinguishes l'npplication de la méthode de Newton ala philosophie mm-ale n'est pas
( between 'Christian ueism' and 'anti-Christian dcism' (London 1756, yoJ. newtonienne en esprit, et qu'au reste Newtoo ne l'aluait pas reconnue.
J, pp. 222, 380 fr.).
Et Kemp Smith de conclw'e a une heureuse 'récession' du earactere
( 44, OC tlle three, Trenchanl seems lo come closest to Hume. His Natural
History of Sllpcrstilion (Londoll 1709) inyjtes comparison with Hume's newtonien de la philosophie de Hume prise daos son ensenlble. Le
( lValllral Hislory of Religiolt but is neglceted by historians of philosophy. Livre II étant ainsi excisé, l'reuvre alors épw'ée, l'auteurest maintenant
45. The cxceptian is Trenchardj see n. 44.· disculpé. Une te])e interprétation du Livre JI du Traité ruine la portée
(
46. In lll)' article 'Del" Deisnlus ah Grundzllg del' Religionsphilosophie del' de la théorie générale des passions. Du poiot de yue historique pourtant,
( AufkHinmg' 1 ha ve tried to give a short account of deisnl that is free of
il faut relever que la Dissertation Sllr les passz'ollS, de ]757, affirme en-
traditional distortions (printed in Hermanlt Smnllel Reimarlls (1694-
( 1768), ein 'beA'enlller Ullbekannter' der AUfkliil"LlIlg in Hamburg (Got- core le caraetere scientifique de la llléorie, de méme méthode 'Iu' 'aoy
lingen 1973) pp. 15-43). Very much remains to be done, though. part of natural philosophy'_l lVIais, a sllivreKempSmitb, l'interprétation
( 47. Hume's pessimism \vith regard to the 'Enlightenment' becomes apparent du Traité, de sa structure (rapport entre Lh'res I et 11 d'une part,
( in his letters ovel' Lhe yeal"sj sec, e.g., Lclters, ii. 310j New Letters, pp. d'antre part 1-11 et LiVTe 111) el de sa genese condamnerait 1'aoth1'o-
13 1 ,199. p010gie de Hume comIDe une anthropologie saos homme. Quel est donc
l
l
l
(
( La Méthode Newlonienne dans Traité I[
( le motif du grand commentateur pour inlliger un si mauvais traite-
( ment au Livre III Le but de Kemp Smith est-il de sauver l' ame
bumaine du 'mecanisme' pour pouvoir, avec Nc\rton el contre Hume,
(
sauver l' ame de Hume 1ui-meme?
( L'Introduction de Hume BU TraÜé nous enjoint de la prendre
(
comlne uu tout; le principe de methocle que l'autew' y prescrit (fonder
StLr l'expérience la science de la nature humaine) naus autorise a lire
( l'ouvrage comm.e un traité cl'anthropologie empirique (meme s'il est
( encore bien nutre chose), divisé COlUIDC suit: ( l ) l'h.ornme comme
animal intelligent, (z) comme animal soumis aux passions, (5) cornrne
(
animal politiqueo
( Le Li\'TC [, partie de l'anthropologie, est une logique. C'est une
théorie genérale de l'entendement, ou une lhéorie de· la connaissance.
(
Le Livre 1 tout entier montre que l'eotendement a un fonctionnement
( pragmatique. Mais c'est un [ait, i..rréductible, que l'hOlnme a une idée
( de la .érité invincible a tout le pragmatismc. Le ,igne de cette graoe
doot la natura 1'a marqué est la passion unique que l'bomme ne partage
( pas avec les autres animau..1C: la curiosité ou I'amow' de la vérité. La
( curiosité, "oire le scepticisme (nom simplelnent plus osé de cette
passion) est peut-étre le charisme de la créature. 2
( Symétriquement, c'est encore uu faít irréductible que I'homme a une
( idée de la .érité invincible a tout le moralisme. L'antluopologie du
Livre Il exclut par principe, comme intempestive, toute référence aux
(
problemes ethiques.
( Or, l'animal intelligent tente de dépasser les bornes de l'expérience:
son esprilu'est pas lesté une fois pour toutes. Il fiuctue avec les passions
(
et oscille entre 1'empirisme (Berkeley, comme école du sceptieisme, est
( uu bon remede contre cette faiblesse' et le délire de la rmson. Le Livre
( II est done indispensable pour comprendre le Livre I. C'est ainsi que,
conjointement:
( (a) COlUIlle théorie de la conuaissance, le Livre 1 (puis 1'lllquiry)
( peut fonder une critique de la religion daos les limites de J'entendement,
Le. une religion naturelle. Elle sera lIDse a jour daos les Dialogues, sur
(
lesquels onticipe 1'Introduction du Trailé: c'est dire que, de l'écrit de
jeunesse a J'oeuvre poslhulne, la pensée vivante de Hume est une;
(h) Le Livre lI, comme anthropoJogie, peut fonder l'Hisloú-e lYa-
lurelle de la Religion, qui expose la connaissance empirique que nous
l prenoos de l'animal religieux: (1) parce qu'il est doué de curiosité,
d'amour dé~intéressé de la vérité, il peut se libérer de certaines passions.
<- (2) paree qu'il est susceptible d'étre ainsi émancipé, le lprobleme' de la
l liberté, écarté comme dispute métaph)"sique simplement verbale,
l trouve son seos dans la morale et la politiqueo
Uanimal moral et politique est doué d'un sens singulier: le gout. Il y
l
l
(
NELLY DEMÉ 14 1
a en tui une sorte d'a prion afTectif. L'homme n un sens du beau
invincible 11 lout l'utilitarisme. Ce sens irréductible est le point
d' Archimede Stu· lequel s'nppuiera tout le traite d' Adam Smith: 'ltow
selfish so ever lUan may be supposed ...'. Le seus du beau fait pendant,
en philosophie l)ratique, a la curiosilé en philosophie spéculativc.
Ces remarques préliruinaires doivent surTire a nOllS préserver ue
toute méfianee. NOllS n'avons pas a 'concédeJ" a Hume quelque texte
que ce soit de son reuvre. Reconnaissons-lui le Livre 11 du Traité lout
entier, et, par l)rincipe, présUlnons plUlot que, s'il ne 1'a pClS remanié,
c'est qu'il en était satisfaít: ilne se conlentait pos de peu.
f\lol1U'ons bri~vemeot, sur quelques exemples, 1'application ue la
méthode newloniel1ne. Réduite a l'essentiel, lthe true s),stern', la
vraie lhéorie des passions indirecles est d'une 'irresistible evidence':
Les passions cardinales sont produites par une double relalion d'idées et
d'impressious. Une foís établi 4 suivaut les Regulae Plzilosophandi une
el quatre de Ne\yton, le principe de la lhéorie, il reste a l'al)pliquel', a
tcompaser' le s),sthne de ces passions a monter, comme un mécanisme,
la structure fOrIueHe des quatre passions cardinales. La double relatioll
d'idées et d'illlpressions ne surTit pas a dégnger celte structure. A leur
productioll est nécessaire une nutre condition, un élément qui a une
lequal innuenee' acelle des causes originaires des passions: la sympalltie. s
Pour que se produisent ces phénom~nes que sont l'orgueil et I'humiliCl-
. tion il faut un champ de [Ol'ces: le champ concrf't, le lieu naturel des
passions, est la sociélé. l\Iais le syst~me fermé, auquel se rédll.it le carré
des passions cardinales daus ceUe premiere étnpe de la composition, est
un systeme mécanique, de lUOUVell1ent réversible: 'inwhalcver arder we
proceed . .. , the ex-periment is not in the least diyersify'd.'6 On pent y
faire abstl'action du tell1ps. Le montage de ce sysleme est effectué de la
lt1~me maniere dont Newton, dans l'Oplicks, fait réapparahre la
lumihe solaire fblilyel in a corztrary order', apr~s l'ovoir analysée, pour
administrer la preuve experimentole qu'elle est, par nature, un com-
posé. 7 T....'expél'illlentntion en idée de Hume est, aussi, annlogue a celle
que doit employer l'astronome raute de pouvoir manipuler les planetes:
Enlevolls la lune, nous supprimons les marées. Réinlégrons la lune
dans le champ de la gravitation, nOl1S retrollVOIlS ces marees. Avec
l'observatioll, c'estle calcul qui remplace le montage de l'expérimenta-
tiou. Chez Hume, c'est l'évidence qui donne a l'analyse la méme
certitude qu'aux calculs en philosophie nnturelle.
DI' la réversibilité des passions, conslalée dans 1'expérimentation
quau'e,8 est aussitót mise en question (exp. cinq et six). Nous étiolls
passés de 1'amOlu (pour mon [¡'ere, par exemple) a I'orgueil: Si maiu-
tenallt 1l0US tentons d'effectuer un relour, 'the whole chain is broken':
le passage n'est pas si toatw-el' dans cet ordre qu'a Pinverse. Comme
(
La Mélhode Neu..IOllienne dans Traité
(
( ]'avait écrit La Rochefoucauld, Ion passe sOllvenl de l'amour a Pambi-
tían, mais on ne revient guere de l'ambition a l'amow".9 Cela veut dire
( que je raplx>rte aisément la conscience que j'aí de mon frere (idée plus
( obscw'c) a la conscience de moi-méme (idée plus vive): le passage est
tsmoolh and opell' J la transition est done facile de l'amaur que je lui
(
porte íl In fierlé que j'ai de moi. En revanche, si étroite que soit la
( relation entre lllon frere el moil je 50r5 plus difficilement de ma con-
science de moi vers la conscience que j'ai de l11i. le lrapporte' plus
(
aisélllent ITIQIl frere a moi-méme que je ne me 'porte' vers lui. La rela-
( lioll d'idécs esl bien ¡ci, pOllrtant, réciproque: ,s"il est fion fl'erc, jc suis
(
eglllemellt le sien. 1\ [ais cette relation est polari:ée ele IafSon irreversible.
1I me faut, en termes ncwtoniens, quitte!' mOI1 centre de gl'avité et
( rejoindre sur son Ol·bite un objet 'luí lourne n une certaine <Estance de
( moi. La relatioll reciproque signifie une gl'avitation reciproqu'c J 111ais
inégale. Ce n'est pas une ll'elation parfaite"IO celle en yel'tl1 de laql1elle
( on passe de la meme maniere de A en B et de B en A, ayec une tOlaJe
( réversibilite J ce qni sel'ait le cas dans une gravitation reciproque égale.
I1 llons fal1t ponssel' plus 10i11, dans une nouvelle expérimentation,
(
la septieme J répreuve de l'argl1ment élaboré dans les eX]lérimenta-
( lions cinq et six. NOllS pouvons énoncer celte double proposition:
(
L'imagination passe plus aisément dJun objet éloigné a un proche, que
l'inverse; elle passe plus aisément dJun moindre a uu plus grand J que
( Pinverse. Ces deux propositions J dit Hume, ont :the vel'Y same reason JJl .
( -entendons: la gravitat.ion. Elles constituent ensemble une toi
empirique, Hume dit méme un principe. 12 Comment rexpérimenta-
( tion sept met-elle en question Pensemble des expériences cinq et six?
Dans del1x cas possibles: la solution de ces deLLX probH~mes peut étre
( celle-ci lrouve force et vigllellr dans la haiDe et l'orgueil. 16
(
(
conslruite selon la r~gle dn parallélogramme des forces."
e D
supérieur
A B
(
inférieur
\ A B e D
\ (a) (b)
\ (a) Bypothese: une paSSiOD pou!" un objet infél'ieurJ cóte AB, et une
relalion d'idées (relation inférieur-supérielll'), colé AC. Selon la com-
position du parallélogramme des forces, il devrait en resulter la di-
\. agonale A O (passion poW' un objet supél'ieur). 01' elle ne se 'construitJ
\ pas: la passion pour l'inférieur ne se lransJere pas au supérieur. La
relation dJimpression est empéchee dans son actlon.
\. (b) Hypoth~se: coté AB (une passion ponr un objel supérienr) et
( diagonale A D (le transfert de la passion a un objet inférieur). Selon la
l
\
II
,
i!iOii
NELLY DEMÉ ]45
résolulion du parallelogramme J il devraiL resl1]ter Pautre cOté AC
(relalion supérieur-infedew·). 01' on ne pel1t pas le 'constTuire J. La
relation dJidées, conlraire el la propension natul'elle de l'im.aginatioD J est
empechée dans son aclion.
Dans ceUe seconde étape, le mécanisme de la gravitation mentale
est donc confirmé: ce qlli ne reduü pas l'homme a une machine:
L'inll'usion du temps rend le cours des passions irrévocable: le mécan-
iSllle ne peut rendre compte de la totalilé du fonctioDllement des
passions. Telle est la limite d'applicatiol1 de la mélhode newtonienne J
non son échec.
Dans la Section I v de la Di~serlalion sur les passions de 1757J viell-
dront, a Litre dJillustrations, des exemples de prodllction et transforma-
tion des pnssions. 01', privilégiant les expérimentatioos cinc¡ et sLx,
Hume 11100t1'e1'a la rupture de continuite ql1i s'impose ici, et le caractere
irreversible dans le temps, done non mécaniclue, du s)'sleme des
passions humaines.
Le pl'incipe de comparaison l4 est le second élément J opposé et com-
plémentaire par rapport 11 la sympathie J nécessail'e a la constitution du
cbamp de forces des passions. I1 sera requis POUT rendre compte des
passions dans leur structurc réelle, et dans lthe variations of t hese
variations J al'infini J15 la pitié, la malice, par exemple.
LJexplication de ces passions nouvel1es, produites par mélange et
variation des pa5sions cardina.les, fait apparattre une nouvelle structure,
qui dessine la valeur vitale des passions. Le cané abstrait des passions
cardinales tracé en IJ.ll.Z se tord en une cl'oix des passions construite
sur ses diagonales. Amow' et humiliation affaiblissent l' ame, tandis que
D
pride lave pride tA
,'
,
,
lave
hwnility hatred hatred humility
Le ·carré ' des passions La 'croix· des passions
JI fallt J POUT saisir le sens de ceUe torsion, (1) remontc:r BU champ
des fOl'Ces que constituent la s}'mpathie et la comparaison. NOllS aVODS
vu dans l'expérimentation six que si l'autre (mon frel'e) nJest pas un
objel quelconque, la sympalhie cependant ne suflil pas a pl'oduire
l'identificatioD des deux soi. La sympathic est la communication uni-
verselle J plus ou moios intense ou étendue suivant les circonstances.
C'est l'éther qui porte I'hornme. C'est ce qui le fail viv)'e et ce qui le tue
(cL Le sens de l'humiliaúon). Fondamentalement, deux pl'incipes
s'opposent: la sympathie et la comparaison. C'est dans leu)' équilibl'e
qu'il faut situer 1'0rgueil pour comprendre sa signification comme
(
La Jlléthode f'llewlonienne dans Traité 11 NELLY DEi\lÉ 145
(
marque de vitnlité, el sa fanctioo qui est d'entretenir l'attachement a l. rhe Philosophical TVorks o/ David Hume, ed, T. n. Green al1d T. II.
(
la vic et a sai. Le soi Tit de l'opposition,l1 ou il se mauiIeste par le désir Grose (London 1874-5) vol. IV, p. 166.
o. Ettquiries, p. 32,.
( de se comparer, OU, corome dit Rousseau, de se distinguer. (2) La croix
des passious est a interpl'éter en termes de temps. Les passion5 qui 3· Eltqlliries, p. 12Z n.
( 4· Treatise, p. 285,
revigorent Pame lui ouvTcnl l'avenu; celles qui l'affaiblissent la 5· Treatise, p. 316.
( dévouent au passé. Le Ichoc du futur', IIutlU'C shock', normalement, 6. Treatise, p. 357 (italies addec.l).
Oplicks, bk. J, pt. 11, prop. v, theorellllv, exp. 10.
( naus entralue plus que le poids du passé ne nous freine. 18 D'ou l'erret 7·
8. Treatise, pp. 336-'7.
des passious sur notre jugement: cHes le fausscnL C'est que lew' fonc-
g. .NIn.rimcs, 490 (5th edition).
( tion est d'abord de DQUS auacher a la ne-lnélue au pri.x d'une cluperie 10. T,'catise, p. 355.
( sw' la réalilé. D'ou, aussi, la pauvrcté de la section sur la passion 11- Trealise, p. 34'2.
amOLU"eUSC, dout Hume, helueuselllellt, a traité aille\.u·s. De Shake- '2. Treatise, p. 313.
(
speare a. ROllsseau, romanciers et dramaturges JIlontrent que l'homme 13· ibid.; eL Newlon Philosophiae Naturalis Principia J't1at/'emalica, vol. J,
axiom 111, COI'. I & JI; Henry Pemberton A ViclU o/ Sil' Isaac Neu.:torJ,'s
( est UD anunal qui peut momir d'nmow'. 1\lais la philosophie luorale, Philnsophy, ed. I. B. Cahen (New York 1972) p. 50 nnd c.l1'8""ing on p. 74·
l'nnthl'Opologie, expliquent pourquoi: en regle générale, la Juort vient _ lhe rule of the parallelogram hel'c follows the Seconc.l La W of Motion i
(
rarement déliVl'er les hOllll11e5 de cette souITrance. Calin l\lacLaurin A,t Accoullt o/ Si,' Isaac NClOloa's DiscoL:cries (Lomlon
( La troisienlc étape daos ]a cOllll>osition de la oature humaine nous 1748) bk. JI, ch. Xl, §§8-11, COI'. 1 & JI.
conduit jusqu'A la structw'e concrete des passioos; le champ des rorces Tr-eatise, p. 372.
( Trcatise, p. 347.
est le lmonde des réalités', par opposition a celui des idées-pl'Ovince Trl!alise, p. 391.
( de l'entendement-cehü ou se 111eut la volonté. J 9 Trealisl!, P.135.
( Dans celte lroisieme pnrtie du Livre I1 J ce ne sont plus seulement des Tr'eatise, p. 43!2.
loi5 de la gravitation mentale, ce sont encare des loi5 empiriques que Treatüe, p. 415.
(
I-Iume ré\.lssit a établir. Et une autre méthode y est introduite, la
phénoménologie, ce que nous ne powTons exposer ici.

\..
\..
l
l
( E.J.KHAlVIARA AND D.G.C.l\IACNABB
(
( tbe missing references. 2 That was in 1874; olher references have since
( been offered b), HendeJ,3 by Laird,' and more recenlly by 'Vatkins'
( Hume and his Predecessors
(
on the Causal JIIlaxim
( IN A 'VELL-KNOWN SECTION orthe Treatise l (Liii.:) HUllle under-
( lakes lo prove lhflt the causal ]lrinciple, which Ite uates wll 1 the
( (~ lclu that cn-hatcver begins lo exist must ha\'e a cause of existence',
is not \\'hat ,,"ouId nowada)'s be called a logically necessary t1'ulh. He
- »1'"
( 81'gues that il j::: nol one of those 'intuitiveIy certain' proposition,s whose
truth can be established by mere inspcction of the ideas they contain;
(
nor is it one of those 'demonstrably certain' propositions whose truth
( can be shown to foUow from sorne other propositions tllernselves
( 'intuitive}y certain'. ,J14-oj.
I-I ume realises thal, if he is right, any atlempt lo sho", the causal ,. ~I""""
( principIe to be IdemonstrahIy eertain' musl be fallacious, nnd l e me
( his point he goes on to examine in the same section fou}" arguments
lhat purporl to do just lhis. Thc first of these, which he ascribes to
[ Ho~~s.creli~on the principle lhat 'al! the points of lime and place'
-( /'1'-
.......
~ are equal'. I-lurne's second argument, ascribed to CIarke (land others'),
says that ir anrthing came into existence without a cause it ",,.ouId "be
(
produced by úself, hut lO be so jt wouId have lo lcxist befare jt existed,
which is impossibIe'. Tbe thjrd argument is attributed lo Locke, and
" sa}'s that if a thing carne into existence without a cause it ,,"ould be
<.. produced by llothillg, but 'nothing can never be a cause'. AH these
( arguments are rejected hy Hume in lhe belief that they involve a
( petilio: they take for granted the principIe oC causality lhcy set out to
proveo To these arguments Hume adds a fourth whose proponents are
( clismissed as 'slill more frivolous' hut not named: every efrect, lhey sa)',
~
must have a cause, since 'cause' and 'efrcc·t' are correlative terms. He
points out that this does oot show that every heing must he preceded
by a cause, just as fl"Om the conceptual truth that ever)' husbancl must
( have a V'irife it does not follow that ever)' man must be married.
The demolitioll oí these arguments io the Trealise must haye fined
many readers with admiration; we bave the speetac1e of a rOllng David
( Hume confrontiug lhe philosophical giants oí his age and dealing them
mortal blows in rapid succession. But wbat is remarkable is Hume's
~
coyness in l'cvealing tbe idenlity of his illllstrious opponents: their
<.. names are dropped one by one in separate footnotes added to the
~
reIevant argumenlS , without the slightest indication where in their
vast writiogs l¡is reported arguments are to lle found. The malter was
l
l
l
~
E.J.KHlI.MARA AND D.G.C.MACNABB
'+7
llaliced by Greca and Grose, who seem to llave beeo the fi.rst to supply
• . "l'
aud FergusoD. 6 "\.¡JI"
The-a.i.a f this paper is to sho", that non e of the accused )ltiIosophers / '
is w t Hume's three opponents cc1'tainly pheI the principIe oC
ausalil)', but ("ilh the possible exce]Jtion of CJarke) not as a Jogica!ly
neCeSSal]r truth. Rnther they regardecl il as an nltimate melaphysical
trnth abotlt the ",hole llnivcrsc: tIJe)' did nol aUCIll]Jt to derive it f1'o111
8u)'thing more basic, and couId nol consistently have done so.
Accordingly we shall find upon examinatioD, tliat every reference
suggested on beIlaH of Hume is eitlter rrüstaken or inelevant. The
havoc ",iH be more conveniently made th)"ough nn imaginary dialogue,
in which lhe rea! Hobbes, CIro·ke and Lacke are jointly inlen~ewed by
a present-day critico Our Critic is a professional philosopher who has
just completed a research paper on the iVlystery of the Footnotes, alld is
yer)' glad of the opportunity to discuss his findings ",rith Hume':; real
opponents.
Criúc: The first charge is laid agüinst MI' lIobbes, ",ho is reported
by Hume to have argued as follows:
AH lhe points oftime and place, ... in ",hich \Ye can suppose auy
object to bcgin to exist, are in themselves equal; and unless there
be sorne cause, which is peculiar lo one time nnd lo one place, and
",hich by that means determines and fixes thc existence, il must
remain in eternal s\lspence; and the object can never begin to be,
for want of something to fix its beginning. ( Trea/ise, p. 80)
1 have been able, with the help of Green and Grose, to track clown the
argument in Hohbes's ,yritings. 1t occurs in an essay enlilled tl\Iy
Opinioll about Liberty and Necessity" where Hobbes nsserts cight
1)t"OposiLions, of which the Slxlh reads:
Sixthly, 1 conceive that nothing taketh heginning from itself, hut
fTom the actio11 of sorne other irnmediate agent wiLllOut itself.
(E lV' ¡v, p. 27+)
Bis lreason' for upholding this position is given a cauple of pages latero
AIso tIte su.."th point, that aman cannot imagine an)1..hing to begill
'UithOlll a cause, can no other "'ay be made lnowD, hnt by tryil1g
how he can imagine 1t; but if he try, he shall find as lll1.1ch reaSOD,
if there be no cause of tbe thing, to concei ve il shouId begin at one
time os anotber, that he hath equaI rea50n to tlánk it sIlOuld begin
at aU times, which is impossible, and tberefore be must think
tbere \Vas sorne spccial cause wlly it began then) rather than
sooner 01' later; 01' ehe that it began never, but was clernal. (ibid.,
P·27 6 )
(
Hum.e QJUllllS Predecessors on the Causal Maxim
(
As far as 1 can see, Hwne's accouot is a modcl"ately good renderillg oí
(
litis argumenl.
( Hobbes: 1 can see no resemblance whatsoever between the two 8.1·gu-
( ments Y0l! have reproduced. Far Olle thing, Hume states his premises
in tenus DI space ('place') and time, ",hereas my reasoning has lo UO
( with time atone. As weH, Hume derives an abSLU-dity, which llowhere
( figw'es in m)' own 81'gument, llamel}' that the object wouId nc,'er
begin lo cxi.st al aU but must lremnin in eternal suspcnceJ •
( Cniic: But these are triOing alterations. Frankly, 1 think they rield
( an improved \-ersion oí )'OU!" arguUlent without seriollsly distorting il.
rodeed, }'OH!" actual argument could have served HUlue's pW'pose
(
equally \Vell, for it is apeo to the saIne tellillg objection that Hume
( levelled ngaillSl his QWll reformulation oí lt.
( To 5how this, let p stand for the proposiLion that a cause is necessar)'
for fixing the time 01' place at which nn object begins to exist, and q fOI"
( the proposition that every object that begins lo exist has.a cause. Then
( bolh your actual argument aud llume's version of it haye the same
crucial part, which may be restated thus: It is olnious that p entails q;
hence if q were false p wouId be false; but, it is a5sumed, p canuot be
( false (íts [alsit)" is Cintuitively absurd'); llence q cannot be false either,
alld lllUSt be a logical trull!o
I Hun1e íound this argluneut question-begging, and to m}' mind he
",as quite right. For, since p entails q, their logical status must be the
same Cthe)r are both upon the same footing'): either bolh propositions
are necessary 01' ueither is. Heuce it is illegitimate to assume that one
oI them is a necessarr truth in arder to sho\V that the other is ( Trealise,
pp.80-z).
Hobbes: So accordiLlg to Hume, 1 attempLed to prove that q, lhe
( cansolmaxilll , i5 a logical truth b), deducing it fron1 p, and taking it for
granted that p i5 a logicnl u'uth. Bnt in point oí fact 1 neyer held lhis
ma.'\.-lm to be a logically necessar)' lruth: it is for me al1 ultimnte law of
nature, aud, as 1 pointed out in De Corporc, ultiu1ate principIes cC<:111110t
be demoDsLrated' and cneed no detuonstration, though the)" l1f'ed
explication' (E Tri, pp. 80-1 ).'
However, it strikes me that YOllr reconstl'llctiou does not do justice
e"en to the Hume-reported argumellt. Fa!" )"on omit what looks like an
important prel11Í.se, nameIy that ca1l lhe points oí time and place' are
cequal' .
Crilie: 1 am uot sure how to take the alleged premise. The 'poiUlS'
are, of course, tequal' in magnitude smce the)' are eiLher e:\..tensiolllf'ss
or durationless, but ho\V is this relevant lo the conclusion? A more
plausible renderiug \Yould be that space ami time are causan)' neutral
('indifferent'): which lS tbe slipulation that spaces aud times do 110t
E.J.KHAMARA ANO D.G.C.MACN.o\8B 149
count as causes. But this is compatible with botlt detenuinism anO. in-
determinismo
I-fobbes: Actually, within roy system, your first illterpretation is io-
adrnissible. For what 1 call a cpaint of time' (01" an cinstant') is not an
indivisible dW'ationless tnoment, but any finite intervlll of time tnken
as ao undivided whole; and similarly with cpoints of place' (see E rv i,
p. 206). Bence it ",ouId have been an arrant contradiction for me to
assert that all the poillts of lime aud place are equal in luagnitude. It is
signific8..11t that the assertioD does DOt occur in lhat quoted passage of
mine ",Itere 1 speak, uot of cpoints' being equal, but of aman having
cequal reason' (01' (as much reason') to imagine one situation as rmother.
Indeed what 1 say in that passage was not intended to be n deductive
proof of tite causal maxim at aIl; that would haye beeo to abandon m)'
belief Lliat it is an ultÍlnate principIe. Rather, it offel's as a creason'
whot sorne recent writers would caIL an cepistemic justincation', a
Dotion which may be illustrated by means of a simple example. Suppose
1 ",ere to say cI know that there is a laelder outside this windo..., ,', nnd
were asked how 1 lmew this. 1 might theo answer: 'Beca use 1 have
seen it', 01' cBecause 1 have beeo told lhat thel'e is oue by some reliable
person wha has seen it'. In eit1ter case rny answel' wonId be an epistemic
justificnlion fol' nI)' claim to know Lhat there is a ladder outside the
wiudow. 9 It constilules the (evidence' for my c1aim, aud, notoriollslYI
'such evidence (aImost) always faJls logically short of what one c1ain1s
to know.
Now ",e have a similar situation here. The two passages you have
quoLed occrn' in an essay in which 1 try to reconcile libert)' nith causal
necessity. At E W iv, P.274, 1 express 111)' eOllviclioll that tite principIe
ofcausality is true (and please note that wllere 1 soy cI conceive lhat ... '
1 mean cI l11aintain, al' aITl conYiuced, t1tnt ... ', a sense of cconceive'
which is now considered obsolete 10 ). Anrol1e who questions my c10im
to know this is o[[ered nn epist emicjustificaLion, which in the present
case brings out 811 important fact about Lile imaginaüol1. 1 would para-
plu'ase lllat passage from E TV IV, p. 276, as follows. If JOu try to imagine
an object O beginniug to exist at a certain time t without a cause, )'OU
will find your illlogination incapable of execuling the lask. No", in llIY
vie", tite idea oí tinte is parasitic llpon the idea of change and Sllcces-
SiOlljll so tlmt the idea of pure lime, absolutel)' empl), yet ",itlt fixed
temporal positions for objects to occupr, is nonsensical. TIIll5 )'our
meutal picture ",ould contaio no item colTesponding lo lhe time t UIl-
less it contained, beside tite objecl 0, al least some other discernibly
difTerent object O' immediately prior aud conLiguous to O in a succes-
sive series of chonging objects; but then Jour pictm'e would be Inrger
than it is sllpposed lo be. If lite mental pictw'e is confined to O alone,
( E.J.KHAMARA AND D.G.C.MACNAllB
( it ""iJl be compatible with O having starled al an)' olher Lime t' befare
. Ol"after t, 01' even v"ith O being eternal and thus having slarted al no
(
time al a1l. The painl is that Yol.1r mental picture, if jt were adequate,
( oLlght lo exclude these allernatives, bul it cannot.
(
lL is surprising lhat Hume, whose views on time aod space were
simi.lar lo mine,l2 did.nat appreciate m)' point. Hut 1 must remind yau
( that 111Y views on causation are rüther different fram his: lhis is a
( matter of fael which is easil)' c1eared and ascertained. 13
Crúic: 1 realü:.e rhat. But before we leave Hume's first argument 1
( wish lo sound DI" Clarl,-e about the suggestion that he used it in his
( Second Reply to Leibniz."
Clarke: It shollld be plain lO any readel' of that Corresponr/enee thot
( 1 neve¡" qunlTelled "ith Leibniz over t he truth of the principIe oí
( causality (01' 'sufficient reason' as he would soy), \Yhich \Ye both
regarded as ultimote. vVhat 1 objected to was his view that even the
(
actions of God are subject to it, that God never Bets without a rational
( motive. 1 thought it very presumptuol1s of him to provide answers 00
( behalf of God.
Grilie: Do you mean lO say that you never ever offered a proof oí the
( princi})le of cal1sality? 1 confess 1 have not been able to find anything
( like I-Iume's seconcI argl1ment in your famous Demonstration. 1S Its
peculiar premise, however, cIoes occur uncIer your l't'Oposition II J,
( where you sa)' that 'to be procInced by itselfJ is can express contra-
cIiction' .16 Yon do not say wily; but earlier you hacl asserted that the
cause must have existed befare;)1 so the contracliction presumably
( consists in the t.hing's having existed befare it began to exist.
Glarke: No, 1 had a different reason in mind. 1 regarcl causality as a
relation between non-identicaI ('external') objects; hence to speak oí
an object as producing itself implies that it is both itself and not itself,
( which is jan express contradiction'.
Unlike Locke and Hume, 1 do not want to sa}' that a cause must
always precede its effect. But 1 do insist that whatever exists contio-
( gently must have an 'externa!' cause, even if it ""ere eternal, in which
( case its external cause could not precede it but woulJ be co-eternal mth
it.l s This enabled me to confute those atheists who opposed the
(
Christian doctrine oí tbe creation by maintaining tbat the material
( world is un eternal series oí finite beings in succession, and thereíore
had no beginning. To whieh 1 replied ad homillem that, even so, the
(
entire chain, taken together, would exist contingentl}'; for 'where no
part is necessary ... the whole cannot be necessary'.19 The en tire chain
( would thus require another independent, non-contingent being as its
external cause, and so there is at least one eternal 'immutable and io-
( dependent being' .20
(
'-
( ,J
(
'5 '
1 call such a being 'self-existent', 01' 'necessary', by which 1 n1ean 'a
being the supposition of wbose non-existence is an express cOlltl'adic-
tion J.21 And to avoid possible misunderstanding 1 \Vent on to explain
that Ita be self-existent' is not the same as 'to be produeed by itself':
the larter is a seU-contradictory nolioo, but the former is not. 22
Crilie: You seem to equate causal independence with laglcal neces-
sil)', and so infer that only what is logical1y necessary is uncaused. But
J \Yill not pursue this point.
Sorne CQlnmeotators believe that ,·,,1Iat you did produce was the third
<lrgument, which Hume aetually aseribed to Locke. 23 They have in
mind the follovving pa:5sage in your Proposition T:
... It is ... certain that somethillg has existedfrom all eterniLy. ...
FOl" since something 1l0W is, it is manifest that something al\Yays
\Yas. Other"vise [Le. if there had ever been nothing] lIle things
that now are [01' ,,"hat they arose fromJ must have risen out of
nothillg, absolutel)' and ,,;thout cause. VVhich is a flat contradic-
tion in terms; for to S8)' a thing is produced, and yet that tbere is no
cause at aU of that productioll, is to S8Y that something is e.ffected
when it is eJfeeled by llot}u'ng, that is, at the same time when it is
not effeeted al alZ. "'hatever exist.f has a cause of its existence:
either in the neCe5S1t)' oí its Q\-vn natllre, and then it IDust bave
been eternal; or in the ",lB of sorne othe1' being, and then that
other being must ... have existed before it. 24
Clcarly this do es not contain anrth.ing like Hume's third argumento
'Nothing' is in 110 way reified, 01' considercd olld rejeeted as a possible
kiud of cause; and 'effected br nothing' is imrnediateIy equated with
'110t efrected at aH'. "~hat the passage does contain is I-Illme's fOW'lh,
unascribed argument. Rere you fallaciously iníer fmm 'whatever is
effeeted must have a cause' that 'whatever czists 1185 a cause'. Far some
cause or renson Hume did not ascribe thi.s argurnent to you.
Glarke: But surely the conclusion of roy reasoning is not the causal
maxim but Proposition T, \Yhich appears in italies ouer it.
Grilie: Hut equally rou end up with the causal maxim, which appears
,,,ithaut italics under it.
I-Jobbes: You are both right aod both wTong. Dr CIal'ke fails to
observe the distinction that 1 draw between 'demonstrating' and
'explicating', and often uses tbe term '.sbowing' to mean eithel'. The
l'esult is that our Critic takes him to be demonstrating the causal
maxilTI, when in fact he is merely explicating causality by pointing
out that what we caH an effect mus\ be something otller than its
cause. 'To be effected but by nothing' is therefore rigbtly pro-
Douneed a eontradiction in terros, on a par with 'to be a husband but o~
nobody'.
 (
¡-fume all.d his Predecessors Oll the Causal Ma:cim
(
( Settiog aside tms 'explication' (or conceptual remark) on callsality, 1
can extract from Dr Clarke's passage two distinct demonstrative argu-
(
ments to the same collclusioD, both relying 00 the causallnaxim. The
( first is a modus ponens: Ir sOll1etbing begi1l5 to exist it must have as its
( cause sometwng else 'which existed befare it; something (the universe)
now exists; tllerefore sometlúng has alW3JS existed. The second argu-
ment is a rec[uclio: ';Yhatever begins to exist must have been preceded
( by n cause; suppose there vnlS empty time (w-ith (l1othing' in it) belare
the uuiverse began; theo the uDiverse Olust have begltn without a
(
prior cause, which yields a contradietiol1; therefore somelhing has
( existed from al! eterrnty.
Lode: Actually, 1 advanced the same two arguments in my &sax
(
Concerning ¡-fuman Ullderstalldillg, where the modus ponens argument
( is given at 1 v.x'5, and the reduclio at IV.x.B. The reduelio form of lhe
argument \Vas added in arder to refute any atheist who believeu in the
spontaneous generation oí the world out oC nothing.
( 1 thought tltis proyed the existence oI an eternal Being; but 85
( Leibniz later pointeo. out, my argurnent 'was a failure. That something
has always existed is another \Vay of sayiog that tbere was 00 litne in
which nOlh..iog existed; but from this it does nol follow that there has
alwa)'s beeo a certaiu tlung, au eternal Bei ng. 2S
Clarke: 1 surmouoted the difficully by insisting, as you saw, that
even a perpetual chain of contingent beings requires as 8n ultimate
cause a necessary being.
Locke: 1 Bm not at all cOllvinced. 1 reject the notion of a neceS5B.lT
being, and hold that no idea of ours guarantees the real existence of an.,:-
thing answering to it: lthe real existence of a God', like tite real exi::t-
( ence of anytluug else, lean only be proved by the real existence of other
things' .26
Crüü:: The assertion that nothing cannot be a cause certainly figures
prominently in tllese t\Vo SectiOIlS oI J'our Essay; indeed Hume eVPI1
reproduces )'our enigmatic statement (in section 3) that lnothing can
no more produce any real beilJg than it can be equal lo t\Yo right angle:: 1 •
l This has led to the suggestion t.ltat HLUue's third Bl'gulnent is based on
these two sections. 21
Locke: 1 never pretended lo pro\-e that whatever begins to exist mtt~t
have a cause-which 1 took to be an ultimote principie. lt is true that
( in n letter to Stillingneet 1 said that l\Ye come lo know' tllis propositioll
by lperceiviug' that the idea of a beginuing is nccessarilr conllected
with lhe idea of being caused; but this was intellded lo be an epistemic
justification, not a proof. 28
Crilie: So by cnothing' Jau meant empty time. 1 lhink 1 can now see
the point of that lnothing' statement of yours. 1t emphasises a conceptual
E.J.KHAMARA ANO O.G.C.l\lACNABB
truth; or if you like, it exposes a eategory-mistake. It is as nonsensical to
suggest that empty time produces an object as to equate empty time
with two right angles: only time-occupants count as causes, only angles
can be equated with angles.
In general, 1 3m inclined to tbink that eioce Hume omitted these
arguments in the first Enquiry, he must by then have come lo realise
that he had misrepresented you all in the Trealise: otherwise, 1 can see
no good reason for their \'\'holesale omission.
Clarke: l'hat cannot be true of me. l\1any years later Hume discussed
roy OWD version of the cosmological argument in his Dialogues; bUlthe
proponeot oí the argument, Demea, gets it wrong from the start. 29
Instead of treating the causal rna..xim as an assumed premise, Demea
stnrts with a prooi of it io.cntical with the Olle which Hume attributed
to lne earlier in the Trealise. 30 In any case, .why did Hume mis-
represent us all in the Trealise?
Crilie: 1 think lwo important factors ha\-e emerged from our discns-
sion. The fil'st is his failure to distinguish couceptual remarks from sub-
stantive claims. Tite second is his tendency, contrar)' to all just reason-
ing, to impose his own position upon his opponents. After all, his
opponents did not aU share his view that (aU causes are of the same
kind',31 nol' did they aH wish to confine the causal maxim to what
begins to exist. ¡\ nd yet !lis refutations have been widely admired, while
his rnisreprescntatíons have passed almost totally unnoticed for more
than two hundred )'ears. 32
1. A T,.cntüe of llrU1lull lVnturc, pp. 78-S:2. Pnge rcrerenccs are to lhe
Selby-lliggc ctlilion (Oxfonl J888).
2. Tite Philosophicnl IVor'/rs of Dfll'id Humc l ed. T. JI. Grcen amI T. H.
Grose (Lamloo, new edition, !886; reprinted by Scientia, Aalen 1964)
vol. 1, pp. 381-2; fi1"Sl published in 1874-5' The refel"ences are autled b)'
thc editors in square brackets to lile three footnotes in which Hume llilmes
his three opponcnls.
o' Charles ,:Y. Hende[ Studies in the PhiLos(lphy o/ David Hume, second
edition (Ne\\" York: Bohbs-f\1crril1 J963) p. 60 n. and p. 61 n.; fírsl pub-
lished in 1925.
4. John L."\ird !fumc's PhiLosopll)" o/ !fl~"'atl Saturc (Landon: 1\Ielltuen
'9:;0) pp. 97-8 .
5. J. ,V. N. "'atkills Hobbes's Syslem of ldl'.u ~LolU]on: HlIlChinson 1965)
p. 43 11. ':Vatkins' conjcchll"C thnt Iiume's rirst argulIlellt was actllally
used by Hobbes in De Corpo/'c is no uoubt an inadnrtency. For he in-
"ists throughout his book lhal I-Iobbes regartled the causal maxim as an
ultimate, and hence lluprovable, principie.
6. James P. Ferguson The Philosophr o/ Dr. SamueL CLa,-ke n/ld lls Crilles
(New York: Vanlage Prcss 1974) p. 114· The same inali"erlency occurs
( ¡-fume alld !tú Prellecessors 011 tite Causal NJazim E.J.KHAMARA AND D.G.C.i\I.... CNABB
154· 155
(
in thi5 book. Tite uulhOl" says, on lhe cne hand 1 lhal fOl" Clarke 'the llcces- 31. Treatise I. iii. LJ. (p. 171). Hume considers this to be a 'corollary' of his

,.
( sily by which a cause determines its cffect' 1S not logical bul 'physicnl or
natural' (pp. 168--g); but, on Lhe other hand, he concedes (p. 114) Ihat
IIume was ¡'¡ghl in aLlrihuting to Clarke nn argulllcnl that purported to
own analysis of causation given in this sectioo, yet he took it for granted
eleven sections carJier.
3~· This is an extensi.ely revised version oC a papel' read by E. J. Khamara at
cstablish lhe Iwinciple lo be a logically necessary tnalh; 0111y, Fergllson lhe Hume Conference, held in Edinburgh on 9-14. Augusl 1976. 'Ve are
(
idcnlifies that nrgulllent as the thinll'ather than lhe second oC lhe Hume· grateful to Professor D. D. Raphacl and l\lr Knlld JIaakonssen foro many
( l'cpol"led argulllcllts. valuahle suggestions.
7· Tlle Ellglish ""o,"ks of Thomas Hobbcs, 11 yolumes, cel. Sil' 'Villinm
( l\1olesworth (London 1839-.~5j rcprinted by Scienlia , Aalen 1962), hel'e-
nflcr I'cferred to as EIT'.
(
8. cL F. Brandt Thomds Hobbcs' J\1cchallical COllceplioll 01 Nalllrc (Copen-
hageo 1928) especially pp. 26,-8.
g. See J. L. Mackie Problcmsfrom LocA'e (O:s:ford 1976) pp. 217, 220.
( 10. Sce O.E.D., S.V. CONCeIVE, Sense Jlb, wilh ao ilI\1Stration from Hobbes
(,65 1 J. '
( ll. lIabbcs adopts il subjcelivist ,-iew of lime saying thal il is 'not in tlle
things without us, bul onl)' in the thought of the mind'. Hence he de-
( fines time as 'the phantasm of befare and aftel' in motion'; here he is
deliberately amending Aristotle's famous definition of time as 'the num-
be,' of motion according to fonner and ¡alter'. (E/P' i, pp. 94-5.)
( 12. See T"ealisc J. ii. o.
'3· See especial1y De Corporc, E/V i, pp. 91-132.
(
'4· See TIJe Leiblliz-Clarke Correspol1clenu, ed. n. G. Alexander (i\Tan-
chester Unive¡·sity Prcss 1956) pp. 20-1.
( Samuel Clarke A Dcmonstration of tite Bcillg (lml Attributes o/ God.
References throughout are to lhe firsl edition (London 1705)¡ facsimile
reprint hy Friedrich Fl·ommann Verlag (Sluttgarl~Bad Cannstalt 1964):
The wol'k is hased 00 a coul'se of Doyle Lectnres which Clarke delivered as
scrmons at Sl Paul's Calhedral in )70....
,6. Demonslrotioll, Proposition iJl, p. 28.
'7· Proposition J, p. 19.
,8. Proposition 111, pp. 27-8¡ Proposition lI, p. 26, cf. Proposition x, p. 187.
'g. Proposition 11, p. 25.
20. Proposition I1, ptlSsim.
( 21. Proposition I JI, p. 30.
22. Proposition 111, p. 28.
23· The view is held by hoth Lnird and Ferguson¡ see notes 4 and 6 aboye.
24· D"fI)oustratioll, Proposilion J, pp. )8-19. ",rords in square brackets ha ve
beeo added to spell out the argumento
25· G. "r. Leibni7. New Essays COllcernillg Hwnan UlIllcrstandinK, traos.
A. G. LangleYI third editjon (Open Court 1949) pp. 5°0-1.
26. For this renson Locke rejected the ontological al'gl1ment in a papel' en-
titles Deus written in 1696¡ qttotecl by R. r. :\aron Jo/m Loche, second
cdition (Oxford Universily Press 1955) p. 242.
The suggestion is made by Green and Grose, Hendel, and Laird¡ see
noles 2-4.
~8. Fint Lettel' to Stillingneel¡ see The /VorJ.-s 01 Jo/m Locke, la volumes
(London 1823; reprinted by Scienlia J Aalen ) 963) vol. IV, pp. 61-2.
Dialogues COllcernin,g Natural Religioll, Part IX, para. 3.
Demea starts by saying, IWhnlevel' e>-;sts musl have a cause . . . oC its
e~istence, it being absolulely imponible for rwything lo produce itsrlf'·
(
W A DE L. ROBISON
(
(
( the only relevant idea oí necessity is derived fl'om a mental})rOpellsitYJ
(
Hume's Causal Scepticism
( 1 shaU argue lhat DI aud 02 are both definitions al1d are of the same
As Is OFTEN REi\1AR.K.ED, it is easy to find inconsistencies in
(
Hume's philosoph)' br comparing one passage with another. But of the
( appa..rent inconsistencies, the most blatant OCCltrS when Hume sums up
his 8nalysis of causation \Yith 'a precise definition DI cause and effect'
(T16g).1 He sa)'s a cause is
( DI Au object precedent and coutiguous to another, and \Vhere aU the
( objects resembliug the fanuer are plac'd in like relations of
precedenc)' aud contiguit), to those objects, thal resemble the
(
latter (T170)
( And, in addition,
( 02 A CAUSE is an object precedent and contiguous lo another, and_
50 united wi!t1 i~, .that !he idea of the Olle determines the mind lo
form the idea oí the other, and the il11pre~sion of the Olle to form
a more !ivel)' idea of the other ( T170)
Hume says that DI and DZ differ ouly lby their presenting a different
view of the same object' ( T170)' This seems lo ilupl)' that causation is
what 01 and OZ bolh define. Bul Ol and oz refer to different sets of
impressions and so define different ideas. Ir so, \yhat can Hume possiblr
mean when he says that both are 'of the same object'? And what is his
( 'precise definition of cause and errect'?
(
The history of commental'Y 00 IImne on causation can be viewed as
a response to this problem. One t.radition opts COl' ol and treats Hume
( as a proponent of Lhe Uniformit)' Thesis: to say of somethiog, a, that
( it is lhe cause of samething else, b, is to sar that \Yhen a occurs, b OCClll'5
cootiguous \yith and successive to a and whenever 8n)'tlting relevantly
( similar to a occm's, [no maltel' where or ",Jleu, observed al' unobserved,'
l something relevautly similar to b occurs. 2 00 this view the focus of
Hunle's sceplicislll is lhe problclll of inductiou: if \Ve cannot distinguisll
l causal from casual regularities, ho\Y can we justify itúerring Ullobserved
events f!"om observed ones?
The other tradition opts rOl' oz and commits Hume to a subjectivist
thesis: to sa)' of something, a, lhal it is the cause oC something else, bJ
is to sa)' oE some subject that that subject has a propensity to concei'fe
of 01' to belie,-e in the occurrence of b 01' something relevantly sünilar to
b upon the perceptioD oI a 01' something similar to a. J On this view
Hume's sccpticism centres not on ho\V we can detennine when we have
1- got an objective causal relatioD J but on how we can even say that there
l
WAOE L.ROBISON 157
could be one. SinccJ it is claimed, causation 'involves the necessily DI tbe
connexion of the existence of diffel'ent things',4 and since, {ar Hume J
any causal statement is either lueaningless 01' a remark about some
subject.
kind,s but tbat neither is Ilume's definition oI the causal relation. In
the Trealise alleast Hume was concerned nol ,"yith causation, but with
causal judgments,6 and to opt for Olor 02 as his definition is thus to
respend to a question Hume \Vas oot concerned to ask. "Ve shaU see tltat
in giving 01 aud 02 Hume is making a sceptical point about causation
even more devastating to human pretensions than he has been thought
to be makingon either nlternative. Let me begin wilh 02.
Pivotal to the case rOl' 02 is Hume's claim tbat
An object may be contiguous aud prior to another, without being
consider'd as its cause. Tltere is a N ECESSA R y CO N N EXION to be
taken into consideration. ( Tn)
VVhat lhis passage proyes, it is c1aimed J is that rOl' Hume
causation is more than sequence, and more also thao invariable
sequence. 'Ve distinguish bet\Veen mere sequence ond causal
sequence; and \Yhat dilTerelltiates the t\'Vo is that the idea of
necessitation (deterrniuation ol' agency) entel's ioto the latter as a
quite essential element. 7
Unfortunotely, aU statements of the argument al'e as cryptic and curious
as this one. [Sure})',' one wants to so)', lit is not the idea of necessitation
that enters ioto the causal relation, Imt necessily itselL' But the orgu-
rnent's overall t1U"ust seems clear enough. Hume claims that necessary
cOllnecLioo is essential to an)' causal relation. Yet if we are to have ony
idea what it is, \Ve lllust refer to the l1liud's detennination in 02, There-
fore, it is concluded, 02 is Hume's defiuition of causation.
Spellecl out more fully, the argulllent comes to this:
(i) Contiguit)' and succession are essential relnlions in any causal
relation ( T75- 6 ).8
(ii) Necessary connection is on essential relntion in any causal
relation (Tn).
Hume offers no other relation or feature as essentiaJ befare he gives DI
alld oz. He must thel'efore think t11at
(iii) 0111)' oontiguit)', succession J and uecessary connection are essen-
tial in aUj" causal l'elation.
Butgiven that
(iv) The only idea \Ve have of any necessary connection is derived
from the impression oí the mind's determination (Tl65),
(
I-lwne' s Causal Sceplicism
(
(v) Any dcfiniLion acceptablc lo Hume must refer lo tile impres-
(
sion al' impressions fram which lhe idea Ol' all ilS component
( ideas ore derived,
( (vi) D2 is él definiLion lhall'efers lO impressions, and
(vii) D2 is lite cnly definilion lhal defines the causal relation by
( referring LO the impl'cssions nnd onl)' the impl'cssions oC
( contiguiLr, slIccession, and the mind's dctennination J
il follows that
r
(viii) 02 is lhconIy defillitiol1 that defines theC8115al relation in terms
( oC aH ond only those impressions IJ urne cOl1siders essential,
élnd lllOt lherefore,
( (ix) 02 is U lIme's definition oC causotion. . an idea of necessity and that ever)' idea i5 derived from some precedent
This argumenl is powerflll. (i )-( iv) and (yii) seem wen supporled,
aníl (v) and (vi), ,,,"hich may seem vroblematic, are true. 9 Let me
begin wilh lhem.
( Al lhe heginning of the seclion 'or the idea of necessary connexion'
( Hume rejects 'aH the vulgar definiLions' in which one term is defined
hy nnother 'nearly s)'nonimous' in favow' of what we may caH a
phiJosophical definition: . same object', we ought lo constrain our interpl'etation by his mistakes.
instead of seal'ching for the idea [of cause] in these definitions
[in which cause is defined in terms oí power, efficacl', etc.l [we ]
Illllst look for il in the impressions, froID which it is originally
deriv'd. lf it be a componnd idea, it mLlst orise· Irom compound'
impressions. Ifsimple, from simple impressions. (TI 57)
Hume implies he is defining the idea of cause and says he is defining it
by referring to impressions. A philosophical definitian is thus a real
ostensive definitian. In short, (v) is true, ancl \Ye shoulcl expect 02 to
be a philosophical definiLion.
( And it is. Thc first clause states that 'A CA U S E is an object precedent
and contiguous to another.' Hume's sntisfaction tliat these relations are
'essenlial to that oí causalion,' aIter stating thaL he is 'examining
J,
(thoseJ primory impression( s fmm which il (lhe idea] arises,' implies
Lhal he thinks we haye impressions oC those relaLions ( T75-76 ).10 But
lhere is another clause in D2. A cause, a, and an effect, b, are 'so uniLed,'
(
HUllle says, 'thot the idea oí the one determines the mind to form the
idea of the orher, and the impression of the ooe to form a more lively
idea of the oLher.' Thus, a is tbe cause oí b only iI there is a determina-
tion of the miod upon the perccption oC ato ha ve an idea oí 01' belief in
b. lI Hume idenLifies the determination as jan interna) impression'
( T165), aod 02 Lhus defines Lhe idea oí cause in terms oi a set of three
impressions: the sllccession of a and b, the contigUÜJr of a and b, and the
( mind's c!elermination to conceive of al' believe in Lhe occurrence of b
upon the perception of a.€)
(
\VADE L.I\OBlSON
159
To erJuate tbe determinalion \\;lh an impression is lo mis-identiIy
elements of the miod's stl"llcbu-e as its contenL.J3 BUL one can under-
otand hO\'\' Hume boxed himselI into this mistake. He thinks we infer
effects from causes. "rhen he hunl$ fOl" an explilniltioll fOl- tlus, he finds
tllat he must appeal to the mind's response to the world: the mind is so
sll'uctured as to develop n propensitl' which, when activated by the
perception of a or no object similar to a, determines the mind to con-
ceive oC, 01' believe io, the occurrence oC b al' an object sirllilal' to b,
That propensity i5 the connecting link oC our infel'ences, and it i5 Ilot
\yiLhin our control: the mind does nat determine, il i5 determined.
Since ir is not wiLhin 0111' conlrol, and since Hume tlJillks that \Ye have
impression, it is understandable that he should S8l' there is 110 timpres_
sion, which has auy relation to the present business, but that pro-
pensity .. .' (TI65). Hume's phiJosophicol discoyerie, have at this
point outrun his classificatory machinery-ancl the principIes of his
empi.ricism. Oue mar \Ye1l regret Hume's failure to realize this, but
since we are concerned to uuderstand bis giving two definitions of 'the
Given his mis-identification aud theory of definitioD, 02 is a definition.
An apparent difficulty "ith it is that, as Kemp Smith puts ¡t, '''deter-
minaLion" is here more 01' less synon)'lnous wüh causatian' and this
is one of the reasons why his definition oI causation l as a natural
relaLion, does not 8mount to a definition in the strict logical sense.
It is in the main ostensive. J4
This is incredible. To claim that 02 is not a definirioo because it is 'in
the main ostensive' is to miss Hume's attack 00 vulgar definitions. It is
not the word 'determina1ion' thaL figures in D2, hut the impression.
Hume thinks we know what a cause is, in sense 02, becunse \Ve are
acquainted with the impressions that make up that complex idea, He
may be mistaken about that, but D2 is a definition and a non-circular
one by the only standard that counts, namely Hume's. In short, premise
(vi) is lme.
Each premise of tbe textual argument for D2 is thus either true 01'
well-supported, and the argument is valido But there are compelling
reasons fol' clenying the conclusioll. Thus Hume says that the coostaot
conjunction oí similar objects cannot by itselI produce 'the idea oi
power,' but that
the observation of this resemblance produces a new impression l'n
lhe milld, ' , . This delermination is the ooly effect of the resem-
blance; ... ( T165)
This says that observation causes the deterrnination in D2. But this
new causal relation cannat be the relation defined in 02. A condition
(
( 160 Hllme's Causal Scepticúm
( necessar)T rOl' lile existence DI tbe causal relation cannol be tIJe causal
( relatlan itseU.
Hume might have inadvertentIy committed himself to the existence
( of another kind of causa! relalion in gi\'ing 02. But in Cact he explicitly
( rejects oz. He says that lit is impossible to give aoy just definilion oC
cause, except what is w-aWD from something extraneous aod foreign lo
( it' (E75; see T170). '''"hat is necded for a definition nol tdraWD fram
( cirCutnstallces foreign lo the cause,' Hume sa}s, is
that circumslance in lhe cause, which gives it a conDexian ",illt
(
ltS effect. VVe ha,-e no idea oí this connexion, Dor c\'cn any distinct
( llotion what it is \Ve desire to kOO\'1 WhCll we endeavour al a cou-
ceptiol1 ofit. (E~7)
(
The determinatioLl in 02 does provide a connection. ''VItal it connect!',
( however, is not a cau~e wilh its eITect, but a pereeptioll oí a cause "...ith a
( couccl>tion oí or belief in tLte occurrence oC its eITect. It is the vrrong kind
of cOllnectioJ1; it is necessa.ry for its existence that the lrund observe the
( relaúons oC contiguity and succession holding between sirnilar objects
( fin a sufficient nutnber oC instances ' (T165), aDd lhat the mind react
to thal obsel'valion by producing it. \Vh.at is foreign in 02 is thus that
natural relation. oz makes it a eondition of 50mething causing some-
thiog eIse that a mind observe and react to \vhat il obsen·es. That Hume
does DOt accept such a condilion is clear from hi:: claimiog thallhere are
fsecret [i.e., unobsen-ed] causes ' . IS
This leayes us "ith a puzzle aod ,,"ith o l. Tite puzzle is what is wrollg
( ,,"ilh the textual argumellt for 02. No prem.i~e has beeo put in doubt,
the argumeot is Yalid, aod yet the cooclu~ion 15 faLseo Let me begill,
( howeyer, with DI. It does llot suffer from one difficuJtr afOicliog D!!:
( RUlne explicitly says of the l'elations in D 1 tilat they are philosophieol
(TI68).
Is D 1 A PHILOSOPHICAL definition? The first clause is the same as
that o[ 02. The secolld says that 'aU the objects resembling tbe [onuer
[the cause] are placo d in like relatious of pre<:edenc)' and contiguil)' lo
those objects, tbat re5emble the latter'. Far those \Vho lhink Hume
commiued to the Uniformity The~is this is read as sa)'illg that a is the
cause of b only ir there is invariable conjunctiou. This reading is prima
Jacie plausible, fOl· Hume does sa)' 'all tlle objects resemblillg the
former'. But the evidence is that he does not mean what he SeelTIS to
sayo
In explication o[ the second clause he ,,"ants, he S8)'S, to 'consider the
( ionuence oC thls coostant conjullctian' (Tl;o). Tlle implicatioll is
that he me3ns to refer ta constant canjuDction in the second dause. But
~ when he introduces 'this ue,,"-discoyer'd relation' he says it 'implies no
(
WADE L. ROBISON
more than lhis , that like objects have always been plac'd in like relations
of conliguity and suecession' (T87-8, my ilalics). This restriction to
past cases is repeated atleast twice (T8g-go; see T95). Since Hume
refers to constant canjuoction in explicatian oí DI, the natural assump-
liOD is tbat he means to reler only to obserued conjunctioos-despile
ta1king of 'oU o.bjects resembling lhe former'.
A possible explanation for rus ta!k lies in his theory oC philosophical
relatioDs snd his elaim that they come into existence ooly ir the mind
compa,.es the relala (T15-14; see esp. T46). But 1 lhink that Hume's
theory is a quagmire, and although there is more solid ground in his
theory of abstraet idea,;, it is too eomplex to examine here. It is enough
for now to counler tite plausibility of arguing merely froro his choice oí
words, and liten to offer evidence [01' wItat he does 1Utan.
15 DI a philosophieal definition if Hume refers to l.onstnnt conjunc~
tian? Each time we see objecls similar to a and b conjoined, we ha ve an
impression of their conjunction. But \Ve can remember only past con-
junctiolls, and memories, Hume says, are ideas (Tg). Our idea oC
constant conjunelion is thus derived {roIn other ideas nnd oot fro01
impressiolls alone. Ui Yet 01 does ool define an idea in terms of other
ideas loearl)' synollimous.' The ideas in terms of which it defines cause
are compooents of the complex-as impressions would be; and 0.1-
though 01 may be thOllght a looser fit thao D2, it is jllsl what one would
expect of a real ostensive definition in whieh one must define in terms
of what is past. 01 is thus a philosophical definition.
Sioce DZ is not tIte definition of the causal relation, D1 mllst be ir
Hume gives any, since he gives 00 olher. And, it is argued, there is
textual evidence for 01. vVhen Hume sa)"s at T77 th<lt Ithere is n
NECESSARY CONI'\EXION to be token into considerntion,' he has just
remarked tbnt contiguity and succession are DOt sllrficient. Const<lnt
conjunction has not been iotroduced; wheo it is introdllced he says that
Contiguity and succession are oot sufficient to make us pronoullce
0.0)' lwo objccts to be cause and efTect, unless we perceive, that
these two relaLions are preserv'd in several il15tances. vVe may
now see the adYalltage of quitling the direct SLU'\-er of this relation,
in arder to dü:cover the nalure of that llecessary c01lTle."doll , which
makes so essenlia! a part oC it. ( T87)
\~That this sho\Vs, it is argued, is that invariable conjuDctioll is fthe
sought-for missiug conditioll which ",as oeeded to pro vide, wilh
[contiguity and succession], a slifficient condition [or.l: lo cause J'", and
therefore lo provide 0.11 analysis of the extra elemellt of oecessitation
which ",as lackiug when [contiguity and succession] Rlone had been
adduced elJI"lier'.11 The clairu is lhat premise (iv) oC the textual argu-
nlent fOl" Dz is falseo
( l-lllme ' s Causal Sceptlá"sm
(
Out, firstly, Hume daes not soy lhat constanl conjullcLion is 'that
( necessary connexion ' . He sars thnt constant conjunclion will help us
'{¡iseouer the nature oC lhal neccssary cOllnexiol1 ' . He lhus goes on lo
(
show how the ouservalion oC CQnstant conjunction produces a kind oC
( necessary connectioll, namely, lhe determillation in D2. SecondlYJ"and
Illore imporLantly, Hume is llot saying that t\Yo things are causally
(
related if \Ve observe the relations lpreserv'd in severa] instances'. He
( makes the far weaker daim that the perception oC the preservatian 'in
( severa1 instances' is lsufficient lo l11ílkc us prOllOllflce any lwo objeclS to
be cause and efrece. The conclitions fOl" making liS assert (or l!link) that
( a is a cause have been l11istaken fOl" lhe condilions fOl" its being a cause.
( Hume is concerned here with causal judgments, not causation. , relations J but how \'Ve can keep oW'selves from supposing l meaning~
The textual argument fol' 01 thus fails. No argumenl can succeed.
( For a is a cause in sense 01 only iC objecB similar to a havc l as a maller
( of¡acl l been conjoinCl[ 'in a sufficient number oC instances l with objects
similar to b. But Hume thinks it is lagicall)' JX>ssible for a cause to occur
hut once, and DI thus cannot be the definition of cause. Besides l the
( textual difficulties that attend 02 attend 01 as well. Ir 01 were Humels
( definitioll l we could not e:\1Jlain his sa}'ing oI both that lhey are 'dl'awn
frotu objeeLS foreign to the cause' (TI70) 01' ""l'lain why he ealls for a
'circumslance in the cause, ",hicl1 gives it a connexion with its errect'
(E77)' There is no connecLion in DI.
IN GIVING DI ANO 02 Hume is distinguishing l in ilDY situatioll we
call causal, the objective conditions and what is adeleel by the mind. DI
slatcs 'wllat is ohjective l but gives no connection l and D2 gives a connec-
(
tion l but one consequent to and dependent llpotl the mind. Neither
gives an objective necessil)'. One conseql1ence is the problem oI induc-
Üon: without on objeclive conncction, we cnnnot distingnish causal
l fr01l1 casuall'egularities. Anothel' consequence is that whenevcr we call
( edition 1reprintetl 19651 Archoll llooks). The lelter is followed by the pnge
one ohject o cause and anothel' an effect, whnt we say is meaningless:
\'Ve have no impressian that can he the source of tIte idea of an objective
connectíon.
But these sceptical points do not exhaust Humels causal scepticism.
Humels daim that 'there is a KECESSARY CONNEXION to be taken
into consideration' is Ilot a c1aim that a cause and its effectare necessarily
conoected l but a claim about what we suppose whenever there are 't\Vo
objeets, whieh we eall cause and effeel' (T75). ,iVhat we suppose is a
'circumstance in lhe cause l 'which gives it a COOneA-lOO with its effecf
(E77)' This is not a supposition we can give meaning to. Premise (ii)
of the textual argument for 02 is thus meaningless. But Hume tlúnks
\Ve must make this supposition. VVe cannot help obsel'ving priOl'itYI
( - contiguity, aud constant conjunction in sorne cases as long as lhe world
.'
WAOE L. ROBISON
is intelligible to llSI and when observed, these activate operat..ions oí the
llnderstnnding. These operatious are essenlial [eatures of human nature
( TZ25)1 and neither the), nor thcir actívation are nithin OUT control.
It is the combinatíon oC the condit.ions llnd the operations which pro-
duces l>ropensities, and these plus sorne nnarticulated facton 'ma.k:e us
pl'onounce an)' lwo objects to be cause and effece. 'Ve are thus made to
suppose the existence of something of which we have no ideal aud we
cannot help making that supposition as long as we remain human and
the world remains intemgible to uso
The sceptical issue is thus not simpl), how we can justify causal infer-
ences, 01' bow we can meaningflll1y sa)' that there are objective causal
lessly, that there are such connectious when we make causal inferences.
Even philosophers who realize 'the falsehood of [the] vulgar senti-
ments l and discover tbat tbere is no kuown connexion among objects'
are unable to prevent themselves from supposing the existence of an
inconceivable connectioll (T22S)' They can change neither the world
nor human nature. Their only recourse, Hume c1aims, is lo tUTn 'back
to the sitllation oí the vulgar, and [regard] a1l these disquisitions wilb
indolence aud indifference (TZ2S). Being human l they cannot cease
making causal inferences and supposing a necess81')' conuectian, even
after discovering that the)' have no idea what ir is the), are ~upposing.
1'0 think that they eould would be to think thot hy doing philosoph)" a
philosopher somehow ceoses to he human l and ooly the vulgar ha ve
ever thought that.
1. References to JI lime han Leen pllt in the texto 'T' slnnds rOl" the Treatise
(Selby-Bigge edition), 'El fol' the E"quirX (Selby-Bigge edilion), und 'Al
fOl" A" Abslraet of a Trealise of Human Nalurc (Ke)'nes and Sl'affn
nllmber(s) so that T169 is lo be rend ns Treatise l p. 169.
2. J. A. Robinson 'JIlIme's Two Definilions of "Cause'" Philosophical
Quartedy XII (1962); repl'intecl l with 'JTulll.els Two Definitions oC
"Cause" Reconsidered', in Jlwne J eel. V. C. Chappell (Garden Cil)':
Anchor Books 1966). Refel'enccs are to the Chappel1 \'oIume. See pp. 138-
91 142-~1l and 144 for ql.lolations supporting the position 1 sketch. As 1
have sketched it, lhe Uniformity Thesis differs fl'om Robinson's fonnula·
tion in at least two ways. Firstly. he claims that spalia] contiguity is an
essentiaJ elemenl of any causal relation. The formulation 1 have given
does 110t spedfy whether it is spatial or temporal contiguity 01' both Lhal is
necessary. In fact l 1 do nol tllink Hume thinks spalial contiguity is essen-
lial. '''hen he introduces il. he says 'we may ... cOllsider [lt] as essential
... ; at least ... till we can find a more proper occasion to cIear up Litis
matter, by examining whaL objects are or are 001 susceptible of juxta-
posilion and conjunction l (T75)' Be then goes on in Parllv 1 §S to claim
( Hume' s Causal Sceplicism
(
that same pereeptions are not susceptible oC spalial retaLians even though
( lhey are susceptible oC causal relations. Robinsou's formulation thus holds
oC on.Jy somecausal relata. He has been misled in parl, 1 assume, by Hume',
(
having pitched his enlire examiuation in the Trealise around causal
( relata that are susceptible oC spalia) I-elations. Secondly, Rohinson for-
mu.lates the Unifonnily Thesis by iclentifying lhe class oC 'particular
( occurrCllces r, ::e', x", ... , aud lhe dass ... oC particular OCCllrrcnces y, X',
y., ... 1 [with] the evellt X aud the CL'f//t Y' and lhen claiming that tite
( cvcnls X and Yare 'ulliversally juxtaposed' (op. cit., p. 144)' This amotll1ls
lo c1aiming, on his analysis, that one dass of occurrences always fOllow5
(
imnlcdiatcly after another dass in tile other's il11l1leo.iate vicinity. AIUI
( this will not do. Hume holds that onlr particlllars exist, anO. invariable
conjullclion is clearly not a relation tl1at holds between a particular cause,
a, and its effect, b. What R.obinson has dOlle is to scrounge arou mI for
sorne strnnge particulars as relata, and these are particulars tl1at Hume, 1
think, would be ill-ilispose«to aceept.
( 3· See R.l\lph ,Y. Church HWHe's Tht:01"J" of the Undcrslandillg (London:
Allen & Unwin 1968) pp. 81, 83, amI 39 for quotations slIpporting the
( position 1 sketcll. 'Yhen 1 use 'a' and 'b' to stand fOI" the relata of a causal
relatioll, 1 mean to imply that the relata are particulars, bul nott1lat t11ey
( are particular particulal"s-objects, e"cnts, pereeptiollS, ol' what hal"c YOll.
( Hume's analysis of the causal relation in the Trcali!e is of causal relations
hetweell 'objeclS' Of, as he somelimes puts it, betwcen impressions. tle
llleallS llS to remember ",hen he is done that 'the ideas of cause and effect
[are] oeriv'd from tlle illlpressions of renexion as weH as those of sensa-
lian' amltllat therefore wllatever he say¡ 'of them may 'lIso exteno. to tite
former' (T78). In short, he says,
Passions are conne<:teu with their objecls anO. witll one anolher; no
less than external bodies are connecteu to,gethel". The same relalion,
titen, whiclt belongs to one, musl be common lo all of tltcm (T7S).
( 4· Kant Thc C,-itique of P"actical Rea.~on, eu. T. K. Ahbolt (Lomlon: Lollg-
mans t959) p. 1,~0; see also p. 141.
5· Hobert 1\1acl\ne is an example of someone ,,"ho uenies that Hume has
contradicted Ilimself in gi"illg two uerinitions of 'tile same object' hecause
l two uiffercnt kinds of delinition of the same object are conceivablc (' HUlue
on 1\1cnnillg' Dialogue VIII (1968) +86-gt). lt is wortlt Ilotillg that l\Iac-
Rae's ttl"tic1e is one of the few in tite Iiterature that has grown up from
Robinsol1's original arlicle that worries al all about what Hume means lo
do in gil"ing a definilioll of somelhing. Yet tlle apparent conll"adictioll
cannot Cl""en be properly formulated \dthollt first examining Hume',
theory of definition and tletennilling in wllat ,cnse(s) 01 ano 02 are meant
to he tlcfinitions.
6. This c1aim must remain an obita diclul1I in tltis papel'. For a uetailecl
analysis of IIllInc's theory in the Tn'l1tisc see my 'David Hume: Natura-
list amI l\1eta-sceptic' in Hume: A Rc-aalllntinlt, ed. D. 'V. Lil'ingston
aml J. T. King(New York: Fordhaml1lü,-er5ily Prcss 1976) pp. z3-49·
7· Norman Kcmp Smith Thc Philo!Ophy al Dal'ill Humc (Loudon: l\lac-
millan & Co. 1960) pp. gl-Z.
8. Let me note again that the relation of colltignity in O:l. (nnd in 01 as weH)
is referred to ambiguollsly: it mar conr temporal contiguity, spalial con-
0',,'', ., oo. '" ,~ " o"n W". ".,"..,"'''', _,,,, ".0' "~
WADE L.ROBtSQN
chosen, consciously and carefully, to examine the causal l-elation as it
holds between relata susceptible of spatial reIations. In tite Enquiry this
restriction is dropped, and for this reason tite parallels there to 01 ano 02
differ.lf one [ails lO note this point one ma)" be misled, as, e.g., was Selb)"·
Bigge, into thinking that Hume has changed his posiLion in some funda-
mental way (Ellquiry, pp. Xl""-xri).
9· (v) has actuallr been ignorecl in the liLernture. Robinson says of (vi):
'Definition (2), ... is 1l0W seen not to be a definition at all, bllt simply a
restatement of tite propositiolllhat the (airead y defined) cause-effect rela-
tion is a ltalw-al relation, in n somewhat elliptical Iorllllllation' (oj>. cit., p.
139)' He goes 011 to cJaim thnt 'it is clearly an enor on I-lllme's part to
ha\"'e offered it as a defillilio,.:, but the error, 1 suggest, lies on .R.obinson's
part: Hume is well aware of what be is doing in orrering D2 as a definilion.
10. There is I1H obrious difficulty here: how can we have an impression of
time when Lime, by Hume's thear)', i8 a succession of perceptions? This
is a problem 1 shall ignore for the purposes of this paper, for it is a
problem Hume seems not to hal"e wordcd about. He aJ>parcntly tJlOught
we could ha,-e an impression of sl1ccession.
11. The detennination is not betwecn the id~a oC a alla the idea of b, as
Robiuson sometimes says (op. cit., pp. t36-7). It is between the pcr'-
ceptiolt of a anu the idea of b. Ir tite perception is an impression, then Lhe
ioea. of b is intense and so is a belief; if the perception is an idea, then the
idea of b is simpl), an idea. The point is important not Icast hecause Hume
carefully dislinguishes lhe questions why we conceive an effect aml \\'lty
we believe an effect, calling the latter 'a new questioll unthougbt of by
philosophers' (.-ll 7)' But the point is also important hec.1.lIse one mar come
to tllink tltat natural beliefs hold only between ideas and are, in lhat \\'ay,
tlistillgllished from pbilosopllical beliefs.
10. This analysis of 02 will uot do as it 'tands¡ altllough its failures do not
affect my argumento lts failllres are of two sorts. Firstly, I may have in·
clllded more in 02 than should be inclutled. lt is BOt clear that Hume
means, in D2, to define lhe causal relo.tion in terms of the contigllity amI
successioll of a nn<l b as ",cH as in tcnns of tlle natural relntion of uetenni-
nation holding bctween tlle perception oC a and the id ca of b. He may
simply W<lnt to define it in temlS of the determination, tlle references to
sllccessioll ana contigl1ity being mnde to point out ho\\' it comes about that
there is a deterllliuation. A J'eason for tltinking this is t1lat if contiguity
and sllccession are includeu titen thcre is n mixture of philosophical nno.
natural relations in 02, whereas Hume say¡ that he is thel·e defining tite
causal relatioll as a natural rclation and that DZ is meanL to explain ha\\' it
is that we make inferences; there is no need for reference to contiguity
and .mccession for that explanation. An additional reaSOll is the prcsence,
in D2, of a pltra5e thnt 1 have left out of lite nnalysis, Ilamely, 'so llnited'.
This is tlle scconu failure of the analysis. 1 read that as Illeaning that whell
a ano b hn,-e heen percei\""ed to he contiguolIs amI sltcccssi\-e, and /UhclI
simita,- objccts hUl,( hccn similn.rlx cOlljoincd, then lhe delel'lllinution of lhe
mind OCCUI·S. Ir litis rcauing is correct, HUTlle is refcrrillg to tlle causal
conditions necessarr for tlle creation of the delermination and so prohably
not to essential features of the causal relation in sense 02. A reason fOI"
leaving out 'so united', thouglt not for leal"ing out contiguily and sueces-
sion, is that if it is omitted lhen 02 is true of n single causal rclation. For, as
(
Hume' s Causal Scepúcism
l JüHN BRICKE
( lGG
1 511,,11 ar,rue the difficnlty ",ilh COllstant conjl.lllclion is that it is not a
(
relation thnt'can hoM in single instances of lhe causal relation. Since 1
( think tlH1t Hume is afler what is trtle of a single causal relation, this is an
ndditional l'cason fol' sllpposing thnt D2 ollght l"cnlly to ¡-efer lo lhe single
( Hume on Self-Identit)'",
impression. . "'.'
Sec Robcl"t Paul 'Volr1' 'IIllme's Tileol")' of T\Ielllal Actlvlty Tlle PllIlo-
( SUpJ,iClIlltcvi"1I1 LXIX (1960) 289~310j reprinlel\ in Chi¡ppell, op. cit., pp. l\le/l101)"" alld Callsality
( 99-128; in Chnppell, see esp. p. 1 1.2. . .
q. op. cit., 1). 401. KCllIp Smit!l's error is not aH lSolaled Instance. See also, IN Trealise r.iv.6 ('Of Personal Identity') Hume presents a theory oC
( e.". Jo1m Passll10re flIlIllC'S IlI(mtiol1s (London: Duckwol'th &. Ca. 19 68 ) self-identitYl in lhe sense oI a theory designed to explaiu one's thinldng
(
6
P.o7 nnd A. G. N. Flew 'Hull1e' in D. J. ü'Connor (ed.).r1 Critical Hist01T
of oneself as identical througl1 change. There are mnny deep obscm'ities
oflVcstern PhjlosophX (New York: Free Press 1964) pp, 26.3-+-, .
l:j. Sec, e,g_, E591 58, ti7 for references lo secret c~~lses. An 1n\-estlgatlOll of in this theol')'. It i:; fal' fmm elear n-hnt problem(s) Hume i!llends to
( solve, and as a result there are many dark places in the solution Hl;mle
H 1l1llC'S rCII1íll"ks in lhe Trelllisc on lhe prohalHhty oC chances ilnll caust¡s
( shows thal he thinks the jUllgment w~ sometimes Illake that somelhing proposes to his problem(s). TIlIt the fol1mYing brief accounl, in Hume's
happened by chnncc is real])' n rcflection of on!" ign~ran~e of .'the ~ecret own words, should permit 111)' investigation to get underwa)'. One's
( operatian of cantrary causes' (T132j see T405-'¡')' "halls at ISSUC IS n~t
mind 1S 'llothing hut a bundle 01' col1ection of diffel'ent l)erceptions,
whethel' Hume is jllstilied in sa)'ing there are secret causes, bul what hlS
( intenlions are in reganl LO DI anc! D2 givcn that he says there are. which succeed each other with nn incollcei,"able rapidil),) and are in a
16. Chun.:h claillls lhat DI canllot be lhe definilian of ('ansation hecallse \\-c perpetual flux and moyement' (p. 252). Given this, it is necessal'j" to
( canllol have an impressian of constant conjunction: that i!O lo 'mistake a eXIllain wh)' we llave 'so great a propension to ascribe an identity to
( repetilian of impressions and ideas fol' an impl'ession af repelilion' (Hume' s these successive perceptions, and lo suppose ourselves possest oí an in-
Theory, p. 85). variable and uninterrupted ex-¡stence tll1'o' tbe \Y1JQle COUl'se of our
( Rohinsol1, op, rit.. p. t++.
lives' (P.255)' '[I]dentit)", he saysJ (is nothing really belonging to
( these different perceptioDs and uniting them togelher; bul is merely a
( qualitYl which we ntlribute to them, becnllse ofthe uruon oftheir idens
in the imaginatiol1) when we refiect upon them' (p. 260). Gi,~en this
'the OTlly question ... ""hich remains, is, by what re]ations this Ull-
( intelTupted progress oí ou]' thOllght 1S produc'd, when we consider lhe
successive existence of a 11l1nd 01' thinking persan' (p.260). Hume
(
f1nswers this questioD by invoking the relatians of resenlblance and
( callsalit)'.
1 sball display t\Vo difficuhies in lhis theor)" o[ self-idenlity, one hav-
ing to do with memory aud resemhlance, the othel' with c8usality. 1
( eertainly would not claim that these are the onl)', al" the 1110s1 importan!)
( difficulties in the theol'Y. But they have not, 1 helieve, been noted else-
where, and they have the virtue oí drawing OHl' attention to ce1·tain
( 8speets of Hume's general lheory of mind that have often gone un-
( nOLiced aud sometimes been denied. 1 have in mind certain aspecls oí
his views ahout introspective awareness aud about tlle relations between
(
miud and hody.
l HUllle ' s eXI)lanation oí mental identitj' in terms oí resemblance
appears iD a single paragrapl ote largely lo the case of ather mlnds:
(
_-Tr>hegin-'wit1 resemblance; suppose ,ye cou'd see deady into the
( breast oí another, aDd observe that succession of pel'ceptions, ""bich'
constitutes his mind 01' thinking principIe, and suppose that he
l
(

(
(
168 Hume Ol! Self-ldel!lity, Memor)' and Causality
(
nlwa}'s preserves the mcmory of a considerable part of post percep-
(
tions; 'tis evident that nothing cou'd luore contribute to the
( bcsto\"ing a relotion on tbis succession amidst all its val'iations.
( For what is the memory but a facully, by 'wh..ich we raise up the
imoges of post pereeptions? And os on imoge necessoúly resembles
( its object, must not the frequent ploeing of these resembling per-
( ceplions in tbe chain of thought, caovey the imagination more
easily froro Que link lo another, and make tlle \Vhole secm like tIle
( continuance of one object? In this particular, theo, the memory
( not only discovers the identity, but also eontriblltes to its produe-
tian, by producing tbe relation DI resemblance nmong the percep-
(
tiODS. (pp. 260- 1 )
( Having said this, Hume remarks, simply: 'The case is the same ,,,'hethcl'
( \Ve consider ourselves Ol' others' (p. 261). His point secms lo be that
what goes on when ODe thinks of one's own identity parallels what
( ",ould occur in th.i.nking obout the ideDtity of aDother persoD if olle
( \Vere abIe to lsee into Iris breast'. To be sure, this is a very cW'ious wa)'
to proceed. One can ooly conjecture that !lume t11011ght bis explanation
(
",ouId be somehow more perspicuous if \'rorked out Mt for a third-
persoo case.
l sir ~v-e-r'lo-o"'·'the obvious difficulties wüh HULue's l)rocedllre and
'
''''\~ W1t the supposition 00 which it resLs. vVhat is important fOl" my present
r purpose is that \Te get c1ear about the pictlu'e that coot1'ol5 Hume's
discussion. For the third-person case the pictul'e is tltis. One person
(call hün the obsenJer) notices a l'esemblance between certain past and
present pereeptioDs hod by onother person (eaU him the S!lbjecl). The
reselnblance in questiol1 is specificaUy that bet'Veen the subject's
pre,ent reeolleetion oDd the past pereeplion the subjeet reealIs. UpOIl
notieing this resemblanee the observer comes to v"Íew the subjecCs
perceptions as 'the continuance oí oue object', comes to vienc the subject
as identicnl tluough change. This, oí course, requil'es both that the
observer be aware of the sllbject's pl'esent recol1eclioll and that tlie
obseryer himself recall the subjecl's past pel'Ceptioll. For lhe simplest
case, lheo, fom' perceptions are involved: tn-o belong lo the subject (his
past perceptioD; his present recolleclion of lllat past perception); t",o
al'e lile observer's (his a\Va1'eness of the subject's presclll recollection;
Izis reeolIeetion of the subject's post pereeption).
Distingllishing between the subject's and tIJe obsel'ver's l'ecol1ection
( of the subject's past perception does, 1 think, heJp ltS to lInderstand
HUlne's somewhat obscLU-e remark lhnt lmemorr not only discovers the
idenlily, but also contl'ibutes to its production' (p. 26 L). Hwne says
that memOl-Y tcontributes to its [tite identity's] procluction, by produc-
ing the I'elation of resembJallce arnong tite perceptiolls' (p. 261 ). 1 takc
JOHN BRICKE 169
this to mean t.hat sillce a memol'Y rcsemblcs the perccption l'ccalled,
memory proyides the resclllblance, the noticing of which gives rise to
the thought of the identity. He cXJ.)lains the meaniug of 'memory ...
discovers the identity' when he discnsses self-identity basedon causality:
'In this view, therefore, memory does DOt so much produce as discolJer
personal identity, b)' shewing 1.1S the relation of cause and effect alllollg
OW' differellt pereeptioDs' (p. 262). l toke this to meo n that ollly if one
recalls a past perception can one llotice ils causal connection witlt
present perceptions, and thus be in a position to lhink of the successive
perceptions as one object. 1 II this is Hwnc's meaning, howcver, i~ is
clear that lnemory must play iLs discovering role ,u/lalelJer rclallOn
between successive perceptions is in questioll t and tllLls fol' the case of
resemblance as \Vell as for that oí causalitr. Out ir tl.tis is so it can be
onl}' the subject's memory which lproduces' personal identity, and tite
observer's memory which tdiscovers' it. For it is tlle subject's menlDl'Y
tbat provides the necessary resemblance, tite observer's luemor)' lhat
enables the observer to note tite resemblance.
No"" if this pietllre is applied to the case of self-ideDtity (olld if it is
oot, of COLU'se, Hume has offered no explallation of self-identity), the
consequenees are fai..r1y obvious. Basically, a uistinction lllust be drawn
bet\YeeD Ihe self os sllbjeet oDd the selr as (self- )observer. More
precisel)', a disLinction must be w'a\vn bet\\'een those reselubling pcr-
ceptions that provide the basis fo1' one's judgment of self-identit)' and
those pel'ceptiol1s that in some way constitute one's an-areness of tI.le
fonnel' pereeptions and oí their resemblance lO one auothel'. Once agam
four pel'ceptions are needed. As subject one must boLh have had n past
perception ulld (now) recall that post perception; as self-observer olle
1l1ust (DOW) be aware of tite subject's pl'eSellt recollection oC SOIUO past
perception and one IllUst (now) l'ecall that past pel'ception. It is one's
perceptions as subjcct thnt (produce' the thought of one's identity by
pl'oviding the resemblance tIpon wh.ich this thOllghl is baseu. lt is one's
,pel'ceptions as seU-observer that con5titute tbe awarellcss oí thesc
l'esembling perceptiolls. As self-obsel'ver one cornes lo yiew onesclf as a
suhjeet iuentical thl'ough change.
This, 1 take it, is Hume's uncomprOluisingl), lhil'd-person picture of
one's a"'ru"encss of one's own identit)c throllgh chnnge. lt lllusl be
aumitled that Hwne does 110t d.raw out lhe illlplications of his pictllre
in this explicit way. His \\'hole discussioll úf lhe lopic is much too
cursorr fol' that. Despite Jolm Laird, however, Hume does makc it
fairly plain that he accepts the central distinctiol1 between having a
pel'ception and being a"are of that pel'ccption. 2 (The distinction be-
tween the subject's recalling a past perception alld the self-observer's
owol'eness oí lhis recollection would be a special case of tltis distinction.)
(
Hume 011 Se!f-.ldenÚlX, l\lemory alld Causality
(
He llsks lwhether it [identity] he sonlething that really binds Ollr
(
several pcrcepliolls together, Ol" onI)' associates thei,- ideas in lhe imagina-
( tion' (p.259, m}' italics) aod adopt5 the latter alternative. He says that
identity lis merel)' a quality which \Ve attribute lo tltcm [lthese differ:-
(
CILt pereeptions' J, beC8use of the unian of their icleas in the imaginatiol1,
( IlhCll Lt.:e re.fleclllpoll tltcm' (p.260, my italics)..-\nd in the 'Appendix'
( t.li:)clls~ion DI personal identity he ciles "úth apprlrent npproval the vicw
DI (most philosophers' thnt 'personal identit), arises [1'0111 consciollsness;
( resemblance couId not do its jobo
aml cOllsciollSIlCSS Ú lIothing bui n reflcctetl lhought o,. perctJplion' (p.
( 655, 111)' itaJics, saye 1'01' 'arises'). , Rather differentIYI ir may be argued that a pei""on can remembel'
Once I-Iullle's Lheory of self-identity based on resemblances is spelled
( possible fOl" onels recollection oí what i5 recoo'llized as a sillo"1e event to
out in detail, a great many objections spring lo mind. One may well '
( doubt lhe intelligibility of Hume':; whole enterpri:;e. There are pr~b­
lems concel'ni 110" the veridical al' Iloll-veridical chf.ll'aeler of the memones
(
involved. And it " l11a)' be urged that Hume has sluTeptitiollsly smuggled
( in the seH he rejected at the stal't. The objeetion 1 wish to press, ho\V-
ever, coneerns the possibility of distinguishillg, as the lheoTY requires,
(
the subjeet's and the self-observer's recollection of lhe subject's past
( pereeption. Given my eal'lier al'gument, lhi5 amounts to questioning
the possibilitr of dislinguishing the productive and discovering roles fol'
memor)' in the first-pel'son case.
( identity in term5 oí causal connections bet\\"een one's perception5, for
The difficlllLy i5 lhis. If Hume's third-pel'son pictul'e is lO have
( application lo the case of self-identity, it must he possible fol' a giyen
}lerson to have, at a given time, t\Vo llumel'ically dislinct l'ecollections
(
with the same contento Two nurnerically distinct recollections nre
( necessary; failing this the subject-observer distinction islost, and there
is no vvay oI intl'ol1l1cing both the resemblallce between present reeol1ec-
(
Lion and past pereeption and the awarelless oI this resemblance. The
( two recollections must be had by a single 1)erso11 1 fol' othenvise we do
( Bol have a case of self-identity. The recollectioos must oceu}" at the
, same lime (01' at least must overlap for a stretch oí lime). For if the
subject's recollection ceases befare the self-observer's hegins, the self-
( observer cannot link the suhject's 1)ast and present verceptions.3 And if
the temporal ordering is reversedJ the self-observer will no longer recall
( ever so Httle relnov'd from those of its existence. Tho' distant
lhe 5ubject's })8St perception when he is alleged to notice it5 resemblance
to the subjeclls presellt l'ecoUection. FinallYl the two recollections must
have the same content; they must be oí the same perception. Fniliog
l causes, which are contiguous amoog themse}Ye5, and to the
this the ""hale point of an explanation in terms of resemblance islost.
( UnfortunatelYl however J these several conditions cannot be satisfied
( 1'01' the case oí self-identitYl for there can be no \Vay oí individuating
tvvo numerically clistinct memories in the ci..rcumstances envisaged. It
l follows that Hume has faiIed to explain self-identity in terros of
l memory and l-esemblance.
(
JOHN BRICKE 17'
Two ways of defending Hume IDust be brieny considered. It mar be
said that thel'e is clearly a sense in which a givcn person can have, at a
given time, two llUlnerically distinct memories oí lhe same evento If we
individuate memories by their content, a given person could l at a given
time, haye two memories (different contents) of what ",as in fact}
though he did not l'emember it as such l the same evento Il should be
obviaus J however, that this cannot help Hume J fOl" his theory requil'es
the memories to have the same contento Othenvise as we have seen
' J
what he l"ecognizes as a single event in two difrerent \Ya)':> at once. It is
" e
altel' wilh time} so perhal)s it 15 possibleto havesl1ch partially resembling
me mori es at the same time. Now, it is not clear to me t1tat this is
possible; to determine its possibility would l'equire a detailed exalUina-
tion of the possible criteria fol' inclividuating perceptions. Even iI the
possibility be grantcd; however, ,ve are left with no intelligible explana-
!ion of self-identity based on re5embIance for what 1 take lo be the
normal case, that iS l the case where Qne does 110t, at a given time, bave
differing memories oí ",hat one takes to be the same e\'ent.
There i5 no need to ~pell ont the details or Hume's explanation oí self-
the explanatioLl simpI:- parallels that in terms of resemblnnce. And fOl"
obvious reasons the expIanation io lerros of cansalily i5 llot snbject to
the objection just deyeloped (saye ror the special case oí causal connec-
!ions between recollections nnd perce})tions recalled). Bul there is a
di Fricul tY of a very different kind in Hume's explanation based on
causality, to which 1 now ttU'n.
Hume holds that a cause and its effect are temporallr cOlltiguous; if a
purported cause and it5 erfect are not contiguol1s they l11ust l ir causally
connected, be lil1.ked by a continuons series of contiguous causes and
effects:
['iV]hatever ohjects are consider'd as causes 01' effects J are con-
tiglLOllSj and ... nothing can o})crate in a time al' place, which is
objeets may sometimes seem productive of each othel"l they are
commonly found uI>on examination to be link'd by a chain of
distant objects; aud ",hen in any particular instance we cannot
discover this conneA"¡on, we still presume it to existo 'Ve mar
therefore consider the relation oí CONTTGUITY as essential to that
oIcausatioo .... (P'75)'
The reqll.iJ·ernent of contiguiL)' reappears; as wen} in the two definitions
( ¡-fume Ofl Seif-IdetllilJ~, l\tlemory and Causalily
( of causality that Hume offers toward tite end of Trealise J, iii.14 (p.
'7 0 ).
( l·
Hume also holds tllat minds are discontinuous eDtities, in the sense
( thnt duriog the period of their existeoee there are periods wheo the)'
( ;, -¡ , are unconscious and have no perceptiolls. In terms oC his own theory
. \ O¿.l~ininds are buudles of percepLiolls, hut they are not temporally con-
(O tinuous ones. He holds that this is nn important element in one's
( ordiIlary concepLion of lninds, as opposed to bodies, and even under-
takes to explain wltat it is in OlU' experiellce that leads us to th.ink that
( minds do DOt 'reqaire a cOLltiuu'd existence' as do physical objects,
( which wOltld 'otherwise lose, in a great measure, the regularity of their
( operation' (pp. 195-6). And the point is stressed in the course of his
discussion of personal identity: '\Yhen my pereeptions are l'emoy'd fO~'
( any time, as by sound sleepi so long am 1 insensible of myseif, and may
( truly be said not to exist' (p.'25z). His position here echoes Locke's
remark that 'ever)' drowsy Dod shakes their doctrine, who teach that the
( soul is al\'\'ays thinking'. 5
( Putting the two points together \Ve cau see a difficulty in his account
DI self-idenLity based on cuusalit)', which seems to have been lloticed by
( neither Hume llor h.is commentators. lf minds are d.iscolltinuous enti-
l ties in the sense indicated, then the perceptiolls before amI after a given
( gAp in cOllsciousness canuot be causally linked unless there are items
othel' than perceptions to link them. Failing such non-pereeptuallinks,
( self-identit)' based on causality can extelld on1y as far as the fÜ'st percep-
( tiolls oue has lIad since oue's Iast period of unconsciousucss. Every
drowsy nou wouId, as far as causality goes, systelllaticaUy debar one
( EroOI thinkiug of oneself, before dozing, as the same as oneself, llOW
( awake. If tbe account oE self-identity in terms of causality is to \York it
t requires sUI)plemeutation from 50111e 50urce other than one's percep-
tions. I-Ilune cannot, of course, invoke a substallLial (sometimes dozing)
l seU. ,iVhat other n'luedy is available to h.im?
1 suggest that olle remedy open to Hurne is the obvious Olle oC view-
l
ing pe1'so115 as psychophysical substances, whose illtervening physical
l states serve to fill up the gal)s in consciousness. Given such pltysicAI
states it is possible t at least in theorr, to efrect the required causal COll-
l one's past perceptions: 'It follo\\'s, thcrerore , that the thollght alane f¡mIs
tiuu.ity between one's preseut And all or one's past perceptions. (By
( hypothesis, of course, a person couId not ue aware of, that is, conscious
( oI, these physical states while remaining ul1conscious-bul that is an-
olher matler.)
( others.
Ado})ting this remcd)' is, 1 subllut, })el'fectly consistellt with H ume's
l views about substance alld causality. A ps),chophysical substance couId
be construed as a bundle of suitably related 'pereeptions' and 'sensible
l qualities' (Hull1.e's tenninology), perhaps cven displaying the [eatures
l
l
l
JOHN BJUCKE
of 'reciprocal causality', 'synlpathy DI parts' and 'comman purpose' that
i
Hume mentions when discussing physieal substances (p. 257)' And
I Hume explicitly argues that there can be no a priori objection to causal
I interaetioo betweeo miod aud malter (PP.Z47-8). More importaotly,
perhaps, the remedy is simply no applieation of a position he adopt.s fre-
quently in the eourse of the Trealise but wlúch has ool received
sufficiellt attclltion, uamel)', that 111entnl and physical events are, as a
matter oI faet, causall)' caunected. "Tis certain,' he says, that ,ve experi-
ence causal cOlll1ections of this kind: '[E]vel'Y Olle may perceive, that
the differeot dispositioos of !tis body ebange his thOllgbts and seoti-
lnents', and 'we may cel'tAinly eoncluue ... [that ] motioo ... is the
cause of thought aJJd perception' (p. 2.11.8).6
Sorne think that Hume is a subjective idealist, and wonld object tlJat,
given his considered vicws about the external world, ILe could DOt aclopt
J the remedy 1 am suggesting. UnfortunateI)' a reply to thi.s fundamental
objection is far beyand the scope of this papel'. ODe poillt must, however,
be noted. If HLUne were a subjective idealist he conld BOt provide a
satisfactory account of self-identity based 011 causality. At least, hc cauld
oot do so without giving up fundillnental elements in his theori9s oí
causality nnd of the mind. For the crux of my present objection is
Hume's need to provide for causül continuity. 1 do not see how, if he
wcre a subjcctive ideülist, Hume could manage this. 7
1. Hume, in fact, indicates two dimensions to mcmory's disco>ering role.
Because of its conneclion witlt Otlr general ability lo makc causal juug-
ments we are enablcd lo 'extend the same chain of causes, amI conse-
qucntly thc identity of our persons heyond 0111' memory, amI can compre-
hend times, amI circull1stances, and aCLions, whiclt \Ve ha\"e entirely
forgot, blltSltppose in general to have exislcd' (p. 262-).
I"l Laird asserts, apparently without argument, thnt Hume 'ncyer supposed
that one part of the mental bundle \Vas engageu in inspeeting eithcr it-
self or some otiler part of tlle bundle'. John Lninl HWlII:'s Philosoplty o/
]{unu!n lVatllrc (London: 1\1IetllUcn 195:1) pp. 190-1 .
.5. Interestingly enotlgh, there is one passage in which HUlllc "'rites as thongh
in thin.k.ing of oneself as identical through change one is thinking onl)' of
personal itlentlty, ",hen renccting on the tr<lin of pnst pel·ccplions, th<lt
compase a mind, the ideas of tllem are felt to be connected together, anu
nuturally introduce each other' (Trcnlisl', p. 635, my italics).]f this were
his considered ,-iew he would escape my presellt objectioll on'y to run illlo
',~. The passage continues: 'ut lenst may suppo!'e it sucll, according to lhe
general opinioll, till we can find a more proper occasion to clear up this
matter, by examining what objects are Ol" are not susceptible oí juxta-
position and conj\lnction' (T,.enfise, p. 75), <lml in a footnolc refers ahead
(
Hume on Seif-Identily, lVlemOlY and Causality JOHN W. DA VIS 175
(
lO Tn:alise 1. ¡'o, 5, Thc reference Jlmkcs cleal", howevcr, that Hume's
( hesitation COllCel'llS spatial, not temporal¡ contiguity, fol' he is conccrned lo
aclmit causal connections hetween two non-spatial items, 01' between
(
spatial amI non-spatial items.
( 5· Johl1 Locke --ln Esmy- CcJllcer/lillg Humall UlldcrstalU/illg, 1lo l. 13·
G. eL Trcalise, pp. 60,123, 185, J9~-3, 211: 230, 237. 250, '267. 275-6, 28 7. Hume DI! Qualilative Conlenl
( Al Trciltise II. jii. 1 (as elsewherc) Hume commits himself to lhe mental
callsatiOll ofphysic.\l events. THE DISTINCTION betlyeen the primary and tite secondal'Y gualities
( 1 ¡1I11 illtldJted Lo P"ll S. Ánlnl for }lis YCl'Y helpful COllllllenls on an c.trlier
7· has oflen been dra"vn either by saying that tlte primary Cjualilies are
,~ers¡on 01' this papel'. The research on which this papel' is based has heen
( those which vhrsicists use te clescribe lhe world 01' by using Locke's lis!.
supportcd by Tlle _\mcl'icnn Council of Learned $ocielies l The lnstilule
( fOI" Advanccd Slllllies in Ihe I-hllnunities (University of El1inburgh), nnd The l'esult in eitltel' case is that primary ql1alities are those and only
(he U ni \'ersi ly 01' Kansus. lhose qualities that are obiective, ])uhlicly measurable and independel1t
( oC tlle observer. The secondary Cjualilies are those lacking these pl1blic ti

( propel'ties.
Philosopbers as diverse as Berkeley, Hume, 1\..Ol1t, VVhitehead, Arm-
( strong, and Sellars have maintained that -E:-.Ebysical objecl ca~not be
e coherently indh1duatedJ describedJ DI' re-identilied 'without the use of
§º!ne q'l.~lita~!..!~con!~~. 1 will caH tbis 'the S-Q lhcsis'. It is tlie claim j
(
that at least OHe secondary quulity is requlred for desCl'iption of a rnaCTO-
( scopic, middle-sized object in ph),sical space. After some preliminalT
remarks, 1 will use as 111)' test Hume's account in 'or Tbe l\1oderu
(
Philoso lhy' (pp. 225-51 ).'
( There are two tests that philosophers have emplo}'ed lo decide
( whether n quality is to be called primal]': these 1 sha11 call 'tIle measul'-
ability test' and the 'perceptllal relativity test'. The measllrability test
( is histol'ically the important test; it was the real basis of the mathematiz-
( ing of nature undertaken bythe philosophel'-scientisls ofthe seventeentl~
cemury. To be measurable (in the strong sense required) él prOpel'ly
\. (a) must he en extensive magnitude váth a true zero point, and (h)
( must be a fundamental and not a derived measurelmnt, that is, it must
not require prior meaSlU·ement. Tlle pel~eptual relativity test contends
( that the primary CJualities are those qualities that can be known by
( more 1han one seDs~, and are consequently more objective 01' less suhject
( lo perceptuall'elaLivity.
Descartes, 11 ",in be l'ecalled, maintnined 1hat the principal attribute
( of matter is enension. For him the 10gical1y necessary and sufficient
\. condition for a physical ohject is occupancy oí space. Occupanc}' oE space,
however, is a necessary but not a sufficient condition fol' the individua-
( tion of a physical object. The kinematical aod geometrical properties of
( matter that Descartes recognizes are insuff1cient to difrerentiate 01' pick
out a chunk of matter from empty space 01' a vaCUUID.
(
Locke adds solidity 01' impenetl'ability to his list o! E'imary 9ual~tiesl
( but still fails to solve the roblem of individuation. The Ol'igiu of the
( idea of solidity is described by Locke as follows:

<-
\.
\.
 ( JOHl" W.OAVI5
Hzune on Quah"talive Canten!
(
The idea of solidily 'Ye receive by Oli' touch; and it arises from the
( secondary quaJities is the relativity of seuse perception. 1'here are, he
resistallce \Te find in body lo the entrance of aoy other body iota
( the place it possesses, till it is left il. 2
Solidit)' is defined as that 'which hinders the approach of lIYO loodies,
(
when they are LUoviog ODe towards Que 8nother'.3 Tila Ne''''lonian
( tenu for solidit . is 'unE!'!!."trabilitt and Locke is williog lo see these
terolS t.reated as synonymous. Bis reaSOD fOl' choosing the tenn lsolidity'
_\ over Ijmpe~e.t:J:al~il~ty', he ~ells US, is t!l.at the ~or~ler ICéU'~'ies somethiog
lnore oC poSItlve l111t than llnpelletrahllzly; wluch 15 negatIve'.4
The lllOSt import8ut th.ing in Locke's account oC solidity is the sUero t
t~ distiog lll,p soli,!ity fr9111 hardoess. Hardoess is defined by Locke as
'a finn cohesion oC lhe parts of matter making up masses oI a sensible
( bulk, so that the whole does Dol easily change its figm·e'.5 Hardncss is
thus to be contrastecl "ith softness, which does change its shape. 1
(
press the butter aod it squishes. It is elea,. that Locke treats harduess
( as a secondary"'guali~y. • conclusion ú'om this Lockean posiLion. He writes:
ladeed, hnrd and 50ft are names thnt we give to thiogs oul)' in
(
relation to tite constitutions of our o"'n bodles: that being generally
(
called hard by us which "ül put us to paio soooer than change
figw'e by the p,.essure of au)" part of OW' bodies; aod lhat, 00 the
contrary, 50ft, which changes the situations of its parts upon an
easy and uopainIu] louch. 6
( lmpenet.rabiJity is distinguished from liardness by Locke by its 'ulter
. exc1l1sion of other bodies out of lhe space it p05sesses'.7 The~ hard OIl]Y
physically excludes otlter bocües [roro occup}ing a space whereas the
impenetrable logically excludes thel~. The distinCtiOll Locke is making
here mar 5ecm 50mewhat Uluenl unless Olle recalls that Locke is con-
necting solidity or impenetrabilitr ,,,ith. th_e atomic lheor of tile sevell-
( referent of a relntion. Relational l)roperties are properties \\"hose essen-
t nth cenguy. Solidily is nn illtrinsic charncteristic oI matter; ",hen
tbe nloros are plIs}¡ed together lhere will come a time when they are
<..
incOlnl>ressible. In Locke's terminolog)' the characteristic properl), of
<- solidity is lhat it is lutterly iusepal'able from tite body, in what state
\.. so ever it be'.
But a littJe refiectiol1 shows lL5 tltat soliditr [ails to pass either of tite-
<-
lwo standard tests. Like density, salidit i5 a derived mensurcm_cnt. It
<- cnnnal, as a cOllsrljucnce, negoliate conuitian (h) for mcasurability. It
fails tite pel'Celltual rc)atidty t~t even more obvlollsh' since it is knon-n
(
only by the sense oC touch. " ...
( )", z) auel IV can be conslJ'lled as a dyadic retation borne b.y X to ~; lU. 9
'Ihe fundamental J!!juEPle of what Hume cutis lthe modero
philo50phy' is the Lockean d~ctriue tha_t --lhe seco1}dary _q!§Iilies ar~
<-
\..
\..
< 'nothin but imlwcssions in the minA',~.that i~_~ellsation~ (pp.226).
Hume's lis~-ºf ~he secondary qualities is the usual one compl'ising
colours, sounds, tastes, sll1ells, lleat alld cold. Agnin, nol surprisingJy,
/ argucd, in the fil'st place, that motion reduces lo exlension since
\..
<-
\..
'77
the argument that Hume finds decisive for the subjectivity of the
sars, 'variations of those impressions, even ",hile lhe external object, to
all appearances, continues the same' (p. 226). 'Ihese variatio11s, Hume
finds, depeud on three factors: di([erences in heallh 01' bo<lily cOl1~ition,
different bodily constitutions, aud differences of external situatioll and
position.
Hume argues, as Locke Itad before him, that althollgh different iln-
press:ions oC the sarne sense larise ú'om aoy object, every one of lhese
impressions has not a resembling quality existent in lhe object' (p. 227).
The coosequence is lhat '~are reduc'd merely ~l?- wltat are callcd
prima.ry qualities, as tite 0t.!-Iy real one!,_ of which \Te have allY ndequnle
llotion' (p. 227)' Tbe resllltant list of primary qualities is: lextension
and solidity, with tbeu' llifferent mixtures and modifications; figw'e,
J motioo, gravity aud collesion' (p. 227)' But Hume draws a devnstating
Instead of explaining the operations of external objBels by its
rneans [Locke's primary-secondary distinction], \Ye \11 terl}!:.
!ll1uiJ.!!.late all tltese o~jects, and reduce oursel\'es to the opinions of
the mosl e~1:ravagaotscepticism cooeeming lhem. (pp. 227-8)
In analyzing Hume's argument a systematic definition of priLllnry
and secondary quaLities is ueeded. A primal]' quality-nnd this is mr
\ defiuition-is a non-relalional, monauic, uelerl1linable propCl'ly al-
leged to be inlrillsic to a ph)'sical object in a detenninate form. 8 Those
qualities that are Jlot primnry al'e secoodal'Y. The intuition 1 8111 appca}-
ing to in this definition is that in speakiog of a quality as primn.ry we
111ea11 that it adheres literally in tlle ph sicnl object as a lllonadic
predicate and 110t merel' l'elationally: A relatTonaL property is lhe·
tial characteristics invoh·e references to sorne othar thing. Ther are
dradie predicates which assnme that lhe physical object is already
. indiriduated. There is, of course, a trivial sense in which a primary
qua lity is indeed dyadic since it is related to tite physical object ",hose
properly it is, but in this case the fiel el of the relation i~ still connneu
nithin lhe physical object. "Ve do Bot neeel to comider predicnles of nllY
degree other tIJan mOlladicand dyndicsince br tlle well-knowlI \Viener-
Kuratowski reslllt Il-adic preclicales of tlegrees higher tIJan t\yO cnu be
reducecl to dyadic preelicates, that is, a triadic relallon fimong relntions
. Hume's argument that Locke's version oC the pl"Ímarr-secol1Clary
l quality distillction annihilates body can be stateel in three steps. Hume
motion is 'a quality nItogether inconceivable alone and without l'efer-
( El11rne on Qualitative Conlenl
(
ence to 50me olhe1" objecl. The idea oC motion necessarily supposes that
( oC a body moving' (p.228). Hume is conlending that mOLian is a rel8-
( Lianal pl'operty and thus a dyadic predicate.
The second step in Hume's argument is t1lat extensioq~n!1ºl he
( .1 cOllc!=ived except as eomposed oC coIau!" 01' solidity. But colou1' is a
( secondory qual~ty¡ extension lhus redltce~ lO solidity. There i5 ene
doubtful point in Hume's aceount t118t needs lo he Iloled. Hume con-
( ttmcl:: l although Lhe argnment is on1}' al1ucled LO in t his seclioll, that
( exuHl::ion i5 eomposed oC sensible minima, a ,-ie", chal had curiotls C011-
sequf'IlCCS in hi5 account oIspace and lime rmd that led him into finitist
(
"imy.: on mathemDlics, which, if nol tlctuall)" inconsistent, are certainly
( ver)' Sll'é\nge. But the contemporary Humean need not accept such
exotica. The central point to note is that t he llhysical object- what .
(
] lume calls the 'extellsion'-can be cohere~ltly described onl)' if it ha~
( eolo111' (~'111a!il}') ono!idily, - - -
(
The tltird and final step iJl Hume's al'gllluent is that solidity cannot
be lhe: property that diffcrentiates a ph)'sical object from it5 enyiron-
( ment, an}' lllore than ruotion can, because ittoo is a relational rOE~~'=­
J Solidit)' ... is perfectly incomprehensible alone, and wilhollt the
(
/ eOllception of some bodies, which are solid, aud maintain thi5
.separate and distinct existence. (pp. 228-9)
"1'hi5 central thesis is bllltressed by t"'o cltal'actel'istic Humean argll-
-.'l
mel1t5. Hume thinks of solidity as a logical i!~~ne~a~º!ty and recog-
lIizes that it clepends l.!l>O1l the ~tolUic theorJ. In his own terminology
he says that :the idea oC solidit}' is that of t\'Vo objects, ",hich being
impeÚ'd by the utmost force, cannot penetrate each other' (p.228).
'\\'hen HUIll.e tests lhi;:; idea by 11.is empirical eriterion of meaning he
has t\\'o argumenls lO show tltat the idea of solidity cannot be del'ived
( from the sense of touch. Bis firsl <ll'gument shows in effeet that solidity
Illllst be distinuuished from harclness. He "Tites: lA man, \"ho has lhe
l "
IHllsey jlJ one hand, has as perfect an idea of impenelrability, ",hen he
observes that hand to be suppol'ted by the lable, as when he fec]s Lhe
s8me table with lhe other hand) (p. 250).
Bis se~ond argul'nenl is tbat impressions of touch are simple, and
thus C8nllot adcquatel)' represent solidily, which is a complex idea.
Hume asks U:i LO consider lhe following two cases: (] ) pressing l) stone
01' olhel' solid body wilh the lland, and (z) pressing t\Yo stones together.
Since there is a sensation in the former case which does Dot OCCllr in the
latte!", no one ,,"ould be inelined to argue lhat these cases are identical.
1'0 make them identical would require rcmoving sorne })art of tbe im-
(
pression in ( 1 )) namely, tbat of the sensation in lhe hand. But it is im-
( IJossible to reluove pal'l of the simple impression. Thus the sellse of
louch is complexo
1.
JOHN W. DA VIS '79
In surnmary) Humc's eS5clltial poillt is lhat tlle primarr .9.!:!~itie~-ªª
Descartes and Locke conceive them are l'elalional predicates and llOt
moñadic predic~tes. The irol1bl~yith using -;:elational predicates
exclusively to describe primar.r qualities is that such ])redicates assume
that the relata are aIread)' knowll, that is, that n physical object is aI-
read)' capable of being individuated and re-identiJied. Hume exploited
/ this point to rq,."lch his ~ceptical conc1usion abollt what he called lthe
modern philosophy',
Since I-Tume's time 1110dern partide theorr ha.:i sugge:ited several
c8ndldatcs that could bE' used to dilTerentiate a macl'oscopic phy:;ical
object fl'ol11 the en\'il'onment. ~la5s1 clectricnl chnrgc, spin, alld iS05pill
arE' obvions examples. Yet clenrly these propertie5 are relaüonall)l'0l)er-
tics th8t hodies 01' partic1es holel to one another. onsequentlrn defender
of the S-Q lhesis can argue that these advnncc5 ill science do not Lell
against his case. Hume's al'gnment is a very powerful one, 8nd 1 know
of no nrguments that would sU'englhen his case.
Nevertheless the S-Q thesis has been ,,;dely rejected. Conlemperarr
scielltific realists, for whom the \Yorld 15 exat:t1)' the way science
describes it, reject the S-Q thesi5 as ao wlneceSSaI]' excrescence. I \Yant
to suggest a way in which thi:i conlroyersr can be mcdiated by showing
that the dispute is condlleted on t\Yo leyel:;.
Lel me borrow a lI5eful piece of terminology fmm Sellars and sal'
f that lhe properties science uses to describe the world make up the
scientific imag~, and that the secondary qualities are part oC the mani-
fest image oC the worl~. Consider the fol1owing example. At the level of
analysis at which theS-Q thesisoperates an argument such as the follow-
iug can be fmonished. i\fotion is ~imply a change in the relative position
oC a body. lVIotion lhu5 requires body for its delJl1iLion, and is COll-
sequently derivaliva. At the ulacl'oscopic level 1 Lhi¡l!\: lhe al'gl1rncnt is
I valido But in a bodiless llniverse containing force fields of a5LI'Onomical
dimensious throllgh \"h..ich distm·bances al'e propagated, the case in
¡ which maximum vall1e of some field-parameter (the point of maxinnun
. value) ehanges its position in a continllous fashion is a case of malion
\ withont bodies. The same thillg could even be $aid of ligbt rays.10 Out
such arguments as these, aud indeed Locke's argulllcnt for solidity, are
at a level otber than lhe macroscopic level at which lhe mallifest image
I operates.
1 suspeel lhal lhe differenees bet",een the defendel' of lhe manifest
image on the one hand and of the scientifie ¡mage ou tbe olher are ulti-
mate y irreconcilable. The manifest image is supported not only by
philosophieal argumenls bul also by language, eullw'e, and philo-
sophieal tradition, Pace SeIJal's, lhe hislory of philosophy is in fael the
history of the vicissitudes oC Lhe manifest illlllge. The defender of lhe
(
180 Hu.me on Qualilalive Contenl E.W.VAN STEENBURGI-I
(
manifest imoge will always ask, \yith Diderot, l~ow. many snowballs ~t
(
takes to heat an oven. To ask him lO deny qualitatlve conteot as ulu-
( mate is to ask him to believe his world is illusory, iodeed that he him-
I ) seU must be crazy. 00 the other side the scielltific image is supported
,,¡ by the powerful tradition of scientific objecti\~ty: In ~ome of ?ur Durationless Moments in Hwne's Treatise
( tuoments, al least, aU oí uS expeet the secondary qualiues e1ther to )'leld
(
to measurement Ol" to be aholished as part of the furmture oí the \Yorld. HUME GIVES AN argument ngainst endless divisibility of tlle parts of

I
Hume l whom we honour at this gatbering, 'presented in a. few 5hort time. Tite argurnent in question is well known. It is the so-called 'addi-
( pages the most powerful deCence the S-Q thesLS has ever recel'Ved. tional' argurnent peculiar lo time:
'Tis él property inseparable from time, and which in él manner con-
(

(
.
2.
Paue references in brackets are lo Hume's Trealise.
Es;ay COllccrillg Human UTlClcrslmldillg 11. iv 1 l.
sLitlltes ilS essence, tlmt e~ch of its parts succeeds anather, and
that none of thelD, hawever contiguolls, can evel' be co-existent . , .
'Tis cel'tain then, that time, as it exists, must be compos'd of
3· ibid.
( indivisible moments. For ji in time \Ye couJd never alTive at an
4· ihid.
op. cilo, JI. LV. 4. end of <üvision, oncl if ench moment, as it succeeus another, ",ere
( 5·
6. ¡bid. not perfectly single ond indivisible, there would be 811 infinite
7· ibid. numbel' of co-existent moments, or parts of time; which 1 believe
8. 1 ha,c modified a dcfinition of e, D. Broad's. ",rill be allow'd to be au arrant cOlltradictioll. 1
g. Details to show lhal alJ rclations can be treaLed as dyadic relations can be
fOllnd in "r. V. Quine Mathematical LOK;c, re,lsed edition (Harvard Collceding divisibility of a temporal por1, as he oppe.rs lO do ('For if in
Unit"ersity Press L955) pp. ~Ol, 202. time we couJd never arrive at on end of division'), Hume eClHnot
10. 10\\ e the example to a commentator on allother \4ersioll of this papero tenninate the process of division short of postulating 'minimlllll dlU'O-
tionless moments', Yet, it is objected, minimlUD clul'ationless momeuts
are what the argument is supposed to prove:
Any sub-division of one of his postulated llunillll1l11 clLU'ationJess
Jl10ments could only be ioto lUoments which were al the saIue lime
hoth dilTerellt and simultaneous; which is incleecl absurd, But ' , ,
( this recoustruction presupposes the concillsion it is sUPllosecl to
pl'ove,2
( Haviug conceded divisibility oC a temporal part, Hume proceeels lo
take it back in tlle S8111e sentence: 'each moment, as it succeeels anolher',
he state , rnust be (perfectl), single nlld indivisible'.
lt might be thought that Hume is not reaJly taking it back. ePer-
fecd)" single and indivisible llloment' refers not to cm)' moment, regarel-
less oC its size, bllt rather to that momeut which terminates the process
of division. It refers lo a mínimum 111oment. lf so, lhe objection to
Hume's argllment staods: it presupposes ",hat it is supposed lo proveo
Nevertheless, Hume does 1l0t assert that each múlz'mum. J1loment must
be perfectlysingle nnd indivisible. Rnther, he asse!'ts that ench ffiOluent, -
regarclless oC its size, is perfectlr single and indivisible. In facl, through-
out his discussion of time Hume, as we shall see, sa)'s nOlhing about the
measw'ement 01', lherefore, aboul the size of a Ul.Olnent. J3ut even if
Hume is thinking of a 'minimum' lnoment (whntever that might
luean), his argument against its divisibility appenls, not to hs size, but
(
Duraliollless JltJoments in Hume's Treatise
(
lO lhe nature, or essence, of time. In tllat case, indivisibilil)' DI any
(
1l10ment, 110l jusl a minimum moment, 15 allegedly prcc1uded by the
( naturc, 01' essence, of time.
Hume is concerned wiLh the esscnce of lime hecuuse of iB bea¡'ing 011
(
lhe inclivisibility DI an existent pal't, 01' mament, of time. Such tapies as
( lIJe dil'cction of time, simultílneilr, tense, and lhe mCaSlll'ement of
time do nol belollg lo lIle essence of tirne. Accordingl)', Hume claes not
(
discl1sS LIJese tapies.
( 1Towevcl', these tOpiC5 are Blllong those usuall}' thought to be central
(
to an llCCOllnt of time. \Vhal, élccording lO Hume, belongs lO lhe essellce
.,¡ or time? In Drder lo nnswcl' l!lis qucstion and tllereafter to l1::.:sess the
( indivisibility c1aim, let HS turn LO HlIme's flccount of time.
( Existcnts, none coexisling one wilh al1other, constittlLc fin arder (pp.
39-40). 'This order is succession, that is, time. 'Since ir [time] appears
( not as nny primary distincl impressioll, [it] can plainl), be nothing but
( different ideas, or impressions, 01' objects dispos'd in a certain manner,
that is, succeeding each other' (p. 37).
(
'Time' and 'succession', then, are s)'nonyms. Still 3nother is 'dl1ra-
( tion'. Hume, when using 'dul'ation' synonymously ",ith (time', calls it
'duration propel" (p. 57)' Proper duration contrasts with fictive dura-
(
11on. HUlTle's exam})le of [ive 110tes sounded by a Dute (p. 57) iIlustrAtes
( lhis contrnst. Ir pl'esented as continuous sOllnd, lhe notes sounded are
(
Cjllalitatively dir-rel'ent. Each note maYl'un insensibl)' il1to another. Yet,
ll1eil' q\wlitntive diffel'ence and suceession are discernible. The)' con-
(I stitute a proper duration. In contrast, a single (monotonous) note, in
( the interval between its inception and cessation, is lInehanging. None
lhe less, it must have dUl'ation in sorne sense, since we can and do
(
inquire about its length: we can and do ask how long lt endul'ed. The
( sense in which it has duratiol1, hmyevel', is not lhe literal sense oí propel'
dUl'ation. lts dUl'ation, Accol'ding to Hume, is fictive. It i5 fictive because
(
tite change implicd in lhe question, (Ha\\' long did it endure?', is 110t
intrinsic to il hut conferred on it from the outside, bycompari50n with a
dUl'ation proper-wlth something that changes (PP'57,65)' VVe mar
compare it to anothel' and suitabl)' changing thing, fol' example, lo a
( blinking light. Using 1his device, we can ask and answer the question,
'How long does the sound endure?' "'Ve can speak inlelligibly of the
l
sound's temporal parts and, by sUlllming thClll, sa)' t}¡at it endured for
( such n length of tinle. It lasted, ",e might say, two blinks of the light.
NOlice, however, that the sound's divisioll is not something intrinsic to
it. It does DOt lilerally consist oflighl blinks. The reason fol' lhis is cIeal':
the sound's duration is impropel', that is, it is a fiction effected throl1gh
comparison.
Even though Hume characterizes lemporal order (succession) as
(
E. W. VAN STEENDURGH
pel'ceivable (P'55), he i5 aware lhat it is unlike the ordinary, (primary
distinct', impressions (}l. 57 ) that constitute i1. 1t is not, he stntes, 3D e
impression presented to a single sense:
Five notes plny'd on a flute give ns the impl'ession and idea oí time;
tho' time be not a sixth impression, which presents itself to the
heal'ing or an)' other of the senses. :'\or is it a si.."\.'111 impression,
whieh lhe mind by reneelinn fillds ill itself. (1', 56)
Elements in succession could be: a sonnd., a flash of licrht b"
a taste a,}
odour. Each of these is pel'ceived by a single sense. Theil' sLlccession is
not. Time is an impression, and lhus })ereeiyable because its parts are
impressions and time i5 nothing "ithout part:;o 1t i5 Al] idea-as we
shall see the idea i5 ahHract- beCa115e it has its pnrts by thei.r manner
of appeal'ance, by their sllccession, not by theil' being impressiol1s.
Hume has it both wa)'s: time 15 impression and idea.
)lot long after characterizing succession as 'pereeivable' (p. 35) and as
an 'iOlpression' (P.S6), Hume s\'vitches to 'The mind takes nolice of
the mannel' in ,,-hich object5 appeal".
But hel'e it only takes notice oC [he mmlller, in which lhe different
sounds make their appeal'ancej and that it may afterwards consider
'\'vithout considering these particular sOl1nds, but ma)' cODjoin it
with any other objeets. (p. 57, H l1me's italics)
It is one thing to think that souuds alone are successive and anolher to
think that other things, too, are successiye. Eilher ..-va)', things are
distinct from theil' successioll. The latter is abStl'acled f1'om lile former,
and, as in aU abstractiol1s 1 resemblance Ü involvecl. T1Ie rcsemblance,
ho,,-ever, does not lie belH"een, say, five sounds nnd five Ilas1les oí light
in l'eSpeCl of t1leir heing identica11y successive. The l'esemblance in
question is a l'ecunent contrast: e)";5tent versus 110nexistent. Thus, even
if one sensed nOlhing but sounds, Ol1e could abstract the souncls from
their manner of appearance-from that certain order ca11ed their
suceession. The abstraction al boltom is one of a souad versus its exist-
ence. For one makes this abstroction, fir~t, by conLrasl \'yith nOne)";5l-
ence, ond, second, b), reCWTence of this contras1. Yet, just lhis recurrent
contrast is the abstract idea of temporal arder. As he repearedly states,
time i5 (the manner 01' order, in which objects exisl' (}). 40)' Agaill,
'Time is nothing but the manDer, in ,,-hich somc real objects e~'isl'
(p. 64-).01', time 15 'changeable existellce' (p. 65, my italics).
Ir is worth noting that time is identical with lhis order of concreta
(ideas, impressions, objects). The abstract idea of time is identical vvith
this order abstracted from any and a11 concreta. Further, this abstrac-
lion is consistent with Hume's alleged e:\."treme nominalismo Neither
'existen!' nor 'nonexistent', accorcling to Hume, refers to a })l'operty
(see JlJl. 66-8).
(
Duraliollless MOl7lelllS in Hume's Treatise E. W. VAN STEENBURGH
(

( More needs to be said about what counts as aD element and about the
(
minimum number of elements sufficient [01' tbe OI-der. Hume uses
severa! tenus to designate au element, among them, lmoment', and
r 'part oC úme'. A part of time is a tenseless existent. As for the c1aim
that it is tenseless: it mal be present to oue person and past to 8nother
(
persono For example, the odour of burned guupowder at the Battle of
Gett)'sburg is presenl lo General Meade aud past to me. As for lhe
( claim that it is no exislent: a temporal pa.rt is Dat a part of a spatial
whole. In [ael, in DO literal sense is succession identical with time
( describable as a whole. fParf, tberefore, is being used in this context
( in a Düuliteral !:ense-in a sense correlated with a non literal sense of
'whole'. Tlle whole in question is whatHume caJls changeable exist-
(
ence. \Vhel'e 'E!' abbreviates 'existent', it is represented as follows:
( ['""-'El I El I '""-'E! J. This is ",hat Hume 111eans by 'changeable existence'.
'Part', 01' 'moment', refers ta the camponent designnted by 'E!' sud
(
... witbout which 'changeable existence' makes no sense. (TlIe recurrent
( contrast between existent aud uonexistent, with which chang·eable
( existence, that is, time, is identified, probably should be expanded to
twooccu....ences of'E!', as follows: [~E! I E!/~E! lE! J.)
Given that the essence of time is the order of concreta, set forth
( aboye, and given the dislinctioll bet",een proper and fictive duratioD,
we baye at balld the pl'emisses sufficient to prove tItat tItere must be
durationless tnoments. The argument is as follows: tite EPs in a propel'
( duration cannot themseh-es have proper duration. The sense of 'cnnllot'
1s logical. No elen1ent in an order i5 identical with tItat order. It
(
follows that all EPs-all mOlnents 01' parts of tin1e-are devoid of real,
or proper, duration.
( Let lE!' designa te a mOllotollOllS souud. Although it lacks real, 01'
proper, duralion, by renson of beil1g 1l1.Onotonolls, it may haye fictiye
\ dw'otion. TIJis "as demoJ15trated earlier by lhe clevice of a blinking
light. i:\ow, hO\~ever, more needs to be said about fictive duration, sud,
in particular, about the sense, iI any, in which Lite blinking 1ight
'divides' the lliOllownous soul1d.
An E! counls as one, as opposecl to man)", by being sLUTounded, as it
were, by ~E!'s. Th"" ( 1) [~E! I El I ~E! ] counls as one E! aml (2)
[~E! I EII ~E! lE! / ~E! ] couuts as two E!'s. Givon lhis count
criterlon for 8n E! -and there is no other if time is chnngeable exist-
ence-aud simultaneity, one can imagine the two E!'s of (2) replaciug
tlle one El of (J ), such that one oI tite E!'s of (z) is shorter than the E!
of (1). But let liS be cleal' whai we are imagilling: we are not imagilliug
the El of ( I ) as, absw'(li.r, being one and mauy. Notbing is both one alld
macr. Failure to observe lhis Iogical truth, Ol", more fundamentallr,
failure to get clcar about, onu tllen obide by, the count el"iterion fOl" an
E!, leads lo the absw·dity, remarked by Hume and Flew, of moments
being simultaneous and dirrerent. Notiee, however, that this absw'dity
obtains, as alleged at the outset, fOl" aoy moment.
The1'e is no puzzle about what \'Ve are doing when we imagine two
E!'s in the place of one El. Among olber things, we are imagining that
one of the former is shorter than the latter.
Imagin.i.ng a momeat shol'ter than a given moment divides no
llloment into shorter IUoments. Imagining a Illoment divided into
shorter constituent moments violates the count criterioll fol' a momento
It cannot be imagined. Hume is right to defend indivisibility by insist-
ing on the absW"dil)' of divisibility.
It is worth noting that Hume argues that division oí space must end
in visible and tangible rniuima (pp. 26-31). Tite structure or !lis argu-
ment is as follows: ( 1) Our ideas, if just, adequalely rep1'esent objects
and their relatiolls, (2) OUt' ideas 111.1.1st be composed of a finite Ilumber
of parts, because OW' capacities are finite. Therefore, (5), objeclS must
be composed of a finite numbe1' o[ parts-ultimately, oI visible und
tangible rnil1ima.
This argument is extended to time (p. 51) aud, so extended, it COIU-
mits Hume to the view that one moment is divisible iuto many shorter
constituent LUomeuts-a view whieh, if 1 am right, cannot be made
intelligible. 'Ihis proves, perhaps, that Hume, himselI, was not, at the
beginning of his account of time, immune to the forces to which Flew
in particulal- and the seeptical tradition in general succumbed. Ha\\'-
ever, Hume did not succllmb to them. His aCCOl1nt of time is remark-
ably free í1'o01. their infiuence.
J. rrctllisc, p. 5 J. Subsequcnt I"cferences to the Trcttlisc are illSerlcd in
parentheses inlhe texto
2, AntollY Flew 'Infinitc Di\"isibilily in Hume's Tn'j¡tisl!' Riuis/il, Critica di
Stol-ia della Filosofía (1967) Fasc, 1VI 466.
(
( 186 R.W.CONNON R. \V.CONNON

( (1) the question oI tbe textual significance of the alterations-now

( that wc have trus information, how might ,,"e set about constructing a
'copy-texl' for tl1e pul'pose of preparing a oe,," criLica1 edition of the
( Treati~c?; and (2) the ques1iol1 of the philosophical significance of the
The Te:l:lllal and Philosophical alterallons-do they necessitate al1)' reappraisals oI Hume's })hilo-
(
Signijíálllce 01 H ttllle's 111S A' teraÚolls sophical positions? Although 1 intend to concentl"ate on the seeond of
( these "twill, pe1"haps) be fonnd in the end, that lhe same answer will
to Trea tise ITI
( serve fol' both q uestiolls J.
Two \Vo R l\.S By Hu i\I E, a copy of the fil'5t ediLion of volumc three oí Presumabl)' t1le fir~t question to consider is a qnes1ion abonl lIumeJs
the Trentise and a copy of the Abstrael, eaeh bearing MS aheratiolls, intentions. In simple terms: why did he make these altera1ions on lhis
( have recently turned up in the Briti:.h Library.1 That such annotatlol15 cap)'? 'Ve cnnnot of course al1swer 1his question with absolute eertaint),)
cauId hove oUQne unnoliced fol' over one llundred ancl thi.1"tr rears in a but oí the various possibililies lhe most likel)', in view oC the a\'ailable
library to which scholars have relative ease of access calJs fol' an cX)llana- bibliographical evidence, is that Hume intended the alterations to be
( tiol1.2 Brieny, whllt seeros to have happened Is that in 1841 two copies incorporated as corrections to the first edition but fol' one ]'eason 01"
( of valulllc three, both bearing nearly idenLical M S cornments, one sel another they were not a11 included.-4
in Humc's hand, the Dlher not, came iota the possession of the Briti5h 1 turn now to the second questioll the question of tbe philosophical
J
( significance oi the alterations. Fo!" this purpose 1 have listed seven ofthe
lVIuseum. Owing, presumably, la a cataloguing oversight onl)' one copy
waS recorded in the Brilish l\lluseum General Catalogue. The othcl·-as alterations which appea!" 011 the 'Hume Copy'. These seyen seem lo
it happened the copy bearing HumeJs autograph cornments- was make important emendations to the te:\:t. 1 have also inc1uded a series
(
therebyeffectiveIy removed from circuIation and Iaid to re.5t in some oí alleraliollS Hume made to his Enqlliry concerning tlle Prindples of
( dark corner of the British Museum stncks where (we mal' reasonably NJorals J s alterations that, J believe, also have a tltematic connection
assume) it remained until1971. with the alterations lo lhe Treatise. For the momenl 1 shall not altempt
Its existence was nevel' suspected until1951 when Professor Rayrnoud to explain why 1 have selected these particular alterations beyond
( .KJibansky published n note on the MS comments jn the catalogued copl" sa)'ing that all of the alterations listed are such that lhe)" appear to have
( Professor KJibansky concluded th8t while the handwriting in the some bearing 00 lhe queslion of the nalure of lhe motive to vil1ue Ol"
cataIogued copy did oot appesr to be HumeJs 'the character of the notes justice.
( mnkes it most improbable that they go back to aoyone but tlle aUlhor
( THE FOLLOWING are a series of alt rations which Hume made to his
himself'. 3
As a result of a curious chain of events the 'Hl.lme-copy' of volume own works over a period of sorne thirty-six years. The firs1 alteration
three, the existence DI which Professol' Klibansky could only infer, (A) is one that Hume made on a r..! S DI the 'Conc!usion' of volume three
actual1y came iota roy hnnds in luly 1974. It seems that in 1971 the oI the Treatise and submiued as an enclosure ""ith his letler of 4
th1"ee volumes oI the first edition were l·emovcd IOI" rebinding, and the March ]740J to Francis Hutcheson. Cl It \ViII be nOliced that Hume has
<.. scored out the words lboth our Selfishness aod Pride'. The passage
copy of volume three bearing Hume's nUlograph was erroneously bound
l in })Iace of the catalogued copy and giveo the same shelf mark.. Tllis corresponds to page 620 of the 1888 Selby-Bigge edition and pages 66g--
rneant that the originally catalogued copy) 1he one that Pl'ofessor 70 oí the 1969 Mossner edilion, in both oC \yhich it appeal"s in iLs
Klibansky saw in )951) was now out oI circulation and the other emended formo
catalogued copy was avaiJable (presumably for the first time) to
readers in tbe British Library. FOl"tunately this error has led to the (A) The same Sljstem malj help us to form a just lIotion
oE the Haepines~, as well as of the Diqnity oE virtue,
confil"mation ofPl'ofessor Klibansky's original conc111sion concerning the
1.. and may interest everlj Principle of our Nature, ~
textual authority for tl1e alterations. 6'lH' BeUiSRneS6 aRd P-.F:ide, in the embracing and
cherishing that noble Ouality.
THE A PPE.I,. RANCR of Hume's alterations on a copy of vollune three
of the Treatisc raises two important questions rOl" Hume scholaTship:
(
188 Hwne's MS Alteratiolls lo Treatise IU H. W.CONNQN 18 9
(
(
'r have sent you the cOllciusiofl, as 1 hove alter'd it, that yan mar see 1 ID) UPON the whole, then, \ole are to
desire to keep on good terms wiLh the strictest and mast rigid' (Hume consider this distinction betwixt
justice and injustice, as havinq
( to Huteheson, 4 Mareh 1740, MS in R.S.E.) See also Ernest C. Mossner two different foundations, viz. that
( Notes Ulul Queries, 194 (1949) p. 5' l. ofÁinterest, when men observe, that
'tis impossible to live in society
( Hume's AlteraliollS lo Treatise 111 without restraining themselves by
te be conrnen to all certain rules; and that of morality,
Alteratiolls (B) tluough (H) are alterotions occurring on the 'Hume- mankind. A when this interest is once observ'd,A
eopy' of ,'olwne tlu-ee. (o) alters Elle privale benevolence!s, and ollght lo and men-receive a pleasure from the
( be lo read Bul privale bellcz;olellce towards Ihe propn"clor is, G/zd ought lo view of such actions as tend te the
be. Tlle next alteratioll Ce) adds 1"'0 senlences. The first sentence, peace of society, and ao uneasioess
frem such as are contrary te it.
asserting selI-interest lo be the original motive lo the establishment of [131, 533, 585]
( justice, appears in some copies oC the first ediLioll 011 a cancel. In (D),
( Hume changes the ward inlerest to retld sclf-inlerest. Alteration (E) (E) But tho' a present interest may thus
blind us with regard te our own
withdl"aW5 a qualified assertion regarcling publie interest and substitutes actions, it takes not place with re-
(
another qualified assertion regarding our OlUn Interest. Alterations (F) gard to those of others ¡ nor hinders
( and (G) clJarlge tlle pluase publie l1llerest to I'ead l11teresl llllq ualified. them from appearing in their true
(F) and (G), ineidentaUy, depart from the revised errata (the cancel at our own Interest, or at eolours, as highly prejudieial te
( least te that 'Oc the p~li" iRteE"est, ando te 9\l1E" aOR iR
A4 v) which has commOll inlerest in both cases. 'Yith eH) Hume aclds the public which we partake . p cu.ti"'lialF.
( assertion tIJat the 5cheme of la", aud justice is advalltageous not onl)' oE by sympathy. {152, 545, 597}
( to tite society but to e,-err individual.
(F) and (G) (' If the sense of ~ i.nterest were
Page references eones-ponding respecth'ely to the first edition, the not our original motive te obedience,
l Selby-Bigge eilition and the i\Jossner edition appear in square brnckets I wou'd fain ask, what other principle
( below eaeh passage quoted. 1s there ln human nature capable of
subduing the natural ambition ef men,
( and forcing them to such a submission?
lB) But private benevolence¡\is, and ought Imltation and custom are net suffi-
( towards the proprie tor A to be, weaker in sorne persons, than . ciento For the question still recurs,
in others: And in many, or indeed in what motive first próduces those in-
( most persoos, must absolutely fail. stances of submission, which ~~ im1-
Private benevolence¡ therefore, 15 tate, and that train af actions, which
( not the original motive of justice. produces the custom? There evidently
[47, 483, 535, cf. Letters, I.47-81 is no ather principIe than ~ in-
terest¡ and if interest first produces
( le) The general rule reaches beyond those obedience ta government, the obliga-
TJ1US SeIE-í"nterest is instances, from which it arose; wh!le tion to obedience must cease, \Jhenever
the original Motive to at the same time we naturally sym- the interest ceases, in any great
l the Establishment of A pathize w1th others in the sentiments degree, and in a considerable number
Jusfice: But a Sympathy they entertain of uS'A of instances.
with public Interest is {165, 553 (follows revised errata)}
the Source oE the moral TIfO l this progress of the sen ti-
ApprobatioJ1, which attends ments be natural, and even necessary, (H) The whole scheme, ho....' ever, of law and
that Virtue. This latter 'tis certa!n, that it is here for- & te every individualÁ justice is advantageeus to the seciet}*
PrincipIe oE Sympathy warded by the artifice of politicians, and 'twas with a view to this advan-
is too weak to controul \:110, in order to govern men more tage, that men, by thei r volun tary
our Passions; but has easily, and preserve peace in human convention~, establish'd it.
l suEEicient Force to in- society, have endeavour'd te produce l· [211, 579, 630}
fluence ouz Taste, (;
gi ve us the Sen timents
ao esteem for justice, and an abhor-
rence of injustice. i
oE Approbation DI Bl~üe. [76, 499-500, 551]
(
'9 0 Hwne's MS Alteralions lO Treatise
( J-/llme's Alleraliolls lo lhe Enquiry
Hume made several alterations in successive editions of his Enquiry
( cOllcerning the PrincipIes of A.forals. Of lhesc, only two, referred to
( belo,," under (K) and (L), are among the variations mentioned in lhe
Grecn snd Grose ec1ilion DI Hume's Philosoplu'cal rVorks." 1 reproduce,
( under (1), a passage fram tlle 1751 editioll , which was to undcl'go a
( series of changes in later edilions. Note t]¡e first sentence assel"ting the
existence of a dÚÚllerested bCllcvolence. This first sentence appears in
( begin , however, 1 must introduce a distincLion which, thOllgh obviolls
lhis [01'm in the ediLions of 1755-56 also, and ngain in the edition 01'
1758 (EssaJ"s al/{I Treatúes). Vader (l) 1 give lhe firsl senlenee as il
occurs in Lhe 17ú,~ edition of Essays mul Trealisesj tI le worel disillteresled
has been deleted from the text. (K) is from the lellerofsoth JuJy 1776,
in , hich Hume directed Strahan, bis printer/publisher, lo make two
alterariol1s to the (posthumous) edition of 1777. He specified lhal the
(
opening passage of lhe section entitlecl lar Benevolence' should be
( transferred to the encl of the text, where it shoulcl become a seconcl
( appendix. He furllier speeified that lhe passage should not "ppear
under the original tille 'Of Benevolence' but should be given lhe new
( On one of the mosl fundamental, and certainl)' one of the most
litlc 'Of Self-Love'. The final alteration to the Enquiry conccrlling lhe
Prináples of Nlorals was to delete rrom the passage, quoted uneler (1),
the phrase 'rhat there is such a sentiment in human nature os uenevo-
( effecl, lwo mutually incompatible 8ssertions. 11 On one occasion he has
lence'.8 Under (L) 1 reproduce the amended passage from lhe post-
hUll10us edition.
(1) OPON the Whole, theo, it seems undenillble, that
there is such a Sentiment io human Nature as disio-
( terested Benevolence; that nothing can bestow' more
( Merit 00 any human Creature ±han. the Possession of it
in an eminent 'Degree; and that a Part,.at least, of
( its Mcrit ar1ses from its Tendency to promote the In-
terests of our Species, .and bestow Happiness on human
( Society. [p.31, 1751 edition (corresponding to p.101
of P.Nidditch's revised version of the Selby-Bigge
edition). The passage ~lso appears in this form in
the edi tians of 1753-6 and 1758J
(J) upan the whale, then, it seems undeniable, that
there is such a sentiment in human nature as benevo-
lence; that nothing can bestow •..
{Essays and Treatises, 1764, vol. 2,' ¡i.2461
{
(K) 'That whole Passage from Page 231 till Page 239 line
( 3 must be thrown ioto an appendix under tile Title
Df 5elf-love; It must be the s~<;,ond Appendix ••• '
[Le·tt~r.from Hume to Strahan, 30.July 1776 (see
( - Letters, II.330); cf. T.H.Green's note regarding the
'Hutchesonian' character of this passage (Philo-
sophical fvorks, vol. IV, p.52n)}.
111
- R,W.CQNNON
(L) Upon the ..,hale, then, it. seems undeniable, trurt
nothing can bestow more merito on any human creature
than the sentimeot of benevolence in an eminent de-
greei and that a part, at least, of its merit arises
from its tendency te promete the lnterests of our
species, and bestow happiness on human society.
[Essays and Treatises, 1777, vol.2, p.229}
1 shall ll'Y to OrfeT an explanation for this series of alterations. DeCore 1
enough, is of crucial importance fol' rny argumento
"'hile it is a universal truth that anyone, Oll ao)' occasion, thioks
",hal he 01" she thinks, it is by no meaus universall)' true thar anyone,
on any occasion, LUriles what she 01' he thinks. Cel"tainly there is
abundant evidence to suggest that Hume did not always ",rite ""hat he
thollght. Sl The lack of relevant :iource material for deciding such
questions is, no doubt, Olle reason why Hume scholal's have generally
avoided raising queslioos about Hume's more esotel'ic opinions con-
cerning sllch mattel'S ns human nature, religion and mm'alitr.lO
controversial, questions to be debaled in the eighleenth century, the
question of the nature oí the motive to virtue, Hume has left LIS, in
w1'itten that there is, and on anothe1' that there is 1101, a sentiment oí
disinte1'ested benevolence. Now each of the alterations 1 have mentioncd
is, al least potentially, an import8nt clue ro Hume's real opinion on this
question. Behind each lies a delibera te decision on Hume's part to alter
what be has writteo. If we can ullderstand ",by Hume was led to make
these alterations-and this is a qnestion that must occupy Hume's
editors no less than his philosopbical critics-we may be able to draw
some conclusions concerning his real opinions on this importanl matter.
U we tm'o lo the a1teralions occurring on volume three oí the
Treatúe, (B) throllgh (H), we see firsl of aH lhal some of lhe ahera-
tions, namely (B), (e), (o), (E) and (11), reveal a leadene)" on Hume's
part to a greatel' explicitoess 00 the question of the motive to justice.
With olher aheraLions, sueh as (F) and (e), we find him aelually with-
drawing RO assel'tion that appeared in the text of the original and
substituting anolher, quite different assel'tion. For examplc, in both
(F) and (e) we find him vvilhdrawing the assertion lhat pllblic ¡lIterest
is the motive to obedience, aud assel'ting insleacl that inleresl unqualified
is the motive to ou]' obedience to tbe laws ofjustice. 'Vith alteration (e)
he adds the assertion lhat seU-interest is tbe original motive to justice.
These alterations to volume lbree, altbough not in themselves re-
markable, do, 1 think, take on a certain significance when we consider
.
 ¡-lllme's MS AlteratioTlS lo Treatise
(
Hume's second m.ajor publicntion in the area of luoral theory, his
( HumeJs ltheory of morals') has llot alwa)'s prevailecl. In the present
Enquiry concenzing [he Principles o/ Morals, publislted in 175l. One
( possible explanalion of Hume's alteratioos is that he made them in the
eOUJ'se of prepariog the secood Enquirx. lo this case we might expect
( question of egoism versus benevolence as oE relatively luinor theoreticaL
to find that the alterations made to the earlier \York sho"" Hume to be
( revisillg cerlain passages in the direction oC the laler \Vork. In other
words, \Ve might ver)' weU expect the alterations lO indicate sorne nud-
way position between the Treotise and the Enqlliry. 8hort of this we
( might at least expect to find the alteratiolls 011 the earlier \York lo be
compatible with the la ter. However, what in fact we find, iI \Ve com-
pare certain passages in the 1751 Ellqlu·ry \\'ith some oC the alterations
( in tIJe Treatise, is that Hume has altered the Trealise in a direction
( that is opposed, broadly speaking, to lhe direction taken in lhe ] 751
EllquirJ~.
( was engaged in the preparation of his editioo of several oC Hlltcheson's
It is generall)' agreed that at least ooe of the dilferellees betIYeen the
( Trealise and the Enquiry consists in the grenter O\'erall importance
given to lbe seJJtiment of benevolence in tite EllquiJy. There seenlS in
the later work to be a greater emphasis placed upon tlle altruistic
motives-beoevo!enee alld fel!ow-feeling-and a eorrespondiog!),
dimillished emphasis on seU-interest 01' seU-love as the motive to
virtue. In the Trealise (p.481) Hume ",rite:;:: IIn general, it may be
affirmJd, lhat lhere i~ no ~uch passioll in human minds, as the love oI
mankind, mCl'el)' as such, independent oí personal qualities, of services,
al" of relatioll to ow·seLf.' This statement appears to conflict with tIJe
position he adopts in tbe 1751 edition of the Enquirx, where (in
passage (1) aboye) he asscrlS the existence oC a disintcrested bellevolence.
Since the allerations \vc have been considering appcar to be a revision
\ aod others has had the effect oí making Kemp Smith's enrLy thesis about
of the Trealúe in the direetion (so to speak) of self-interest and (io t11e
( case of stleh alteratiolls as (G) and (H» away frol11 'other-regarding'
motives, llley cannot be I'egarcled as anticipating the 1751 edition oC
tlle EnqlálI.
Two of Hume's nineteenth-cenlury editors, T. H. Green and L. A.
Selby-Biggt'J bave drawn altenlion to importRllt theoretical differellces
bet\Yeen Dook JI l of lhe Trealisc and the Enqlliry conccrllillg . . .
llIorais. l2 Green, rol' example, points out that on the que:stion of the
1110tiyc to ,;rtue Hume seeros lo have moyed from a tendency to reduce
al! desire to a desire for pleasurc to (io the E/lquiIY) a polomie agai/lSI
such reductions. Green rnelltions in particular the passage in tlle
EnquiJy that appeared in the earl)' edilious as the first part of lhc
sectiou IOf Benevolence', which he caUs lthe lovely representatioll oE
human natlU·e'. The phrase is bonowed from Francis Hutchesou.
l 1 meotion Green and Selh)'-Bigge on!)' as a reminder that t11e
comUlOO practice of quoting more or less indiscriminately from both
l
111 R.W.CüNNON
works (in order to arrive at ooe comprehensive philosophical positioo, 1
case there is one yery good reason why '.... e should avoid il: it obliges llS
to regard the tension that exists between tbe lWO works ovel· the
importance. It is, however, precisely this tension that 1 believe to be the
important cIue to tite significance of the alterations to volume three.
A second clue to the puu.1e posed by the alteratious is again provided
by I-Iume's nilleteenth-eentur), editors. It is significant that, following
upon their observation oC au important theoretieal difference between
the Treatúe oud lhe Enquiry, both Green and 8elby-Bigge remark
that the EnquiJ)~ exhibits, far more conspiclloltsly lllan does the
Treatise, certain affinities wilh the position of Franeis Hutcheson. J3
It will be recalled that 8elby-Bigge J at abollt Lhc Lime he wrote lhis,
main works 011 morals J4 and so ,,,ould ha ve been in () good position to
make this kind oC comparison.
The thesis oI Professor Norman Kemp Sm.ith, tllat there is an import-
ant affinity between Hume and HUlchesou J is, of course, \YeH known. 15
Kerop 8m..ith argued that it was Hume's early reading of lIutcheson's
I1lquiry J6 anu Essay on lhe Passiolls l1 that provided him with the
important point of deparlllre for his altack on ralionalisLll. For several
reasoos 1 am. lUlhappy ,,;tlt tltis thesis, and 1 tend lo agree with
ProfessOl· l\lossuer that Kemp 8milh has somewhat overstated his case
for I-Iume's indebtedness to Ilutcheson. 18 Since Kemp 8nüth's book
was written we have been given a far more detailed picture of Ilume's
background and earl)' readiog. The painstakillg researeh of Mossne..
I-Iutcheson's uniq ue inOuence on Hume far less compelling, resting os
it does on a some\Yhat unlJistorical treotment oí lite exlernal evidence.
The view that LUorality is based upon feeling, tite principal theorelical
affinity alleged to exist betweell Hume aud H ulchesoll, in fact appears
in works by several writers of lile seventeenth and eigllleenth centuries.
lt is powerfully expressed in Bayle, a wáter whom Hume studied ,re!"y
carefully in his youth. 19 Of perbaps e"en grenter ij]lporttlnce with
respect lo lhe question oC Hume's relationship to HUlcheson is anotller
work that n-e ma)' be reasonabl)' Sllre Hume cons"ulled iu his early
perioci, prior to the compositioIl of tite Trcalise,20 llamel)' John GnyJ s
Prelimúzary Disserlaliofz COllccrlling Virtlle ami rice. 2l This work
contains not oul)' an attack 011 rationalist theories oC ethics,12 which is
yery similar to Hwue's in tite Treatúc,23 but also a criticiSJll. of
Hutcheson's theory oí morals as set out in his Inquz"ry.14 1 believe there
are good grounds íor sllJ:lposing it was I-Iume's reading of this \York that
!
.-1
(
( Hwne's M5 Alteralious lo Tl"eatisc 111
( primarily determined his altilude (implicit in the Trealise) to Hutcbe-
( son's moral philosoph)'.
1 have 8150 argl.led elsewhere agajnsl lhe ...-lew of Kemp Smith lhat
( Hume constructed his theory of morals Ilpon a HUlchesonian base. 2S 1
( ~lIrTO'est illsteau·that the HutclH.'·~onian eelIoes, unmi:itakably present in
. 00
cerlaio SecLiOllS of lhe Tn:atisc, are lO he accounted f01", nol in terms of
( all important theoreLical indebteclness, hUl by a probable hypolhesi3
( concernintr 0
lhe peculiar nature oC lTlIlcheson's il1yolvement in lhe , is lhe HUIDej Hutcheson corresponelence-does not stricLly warrant
pllblicalion oC vaJume lhree. 'Tltis in turn will 5ugge5t an exp1allallan
(
fol' lhe alteralion5 Tllave listed.
( :\ llhough 1 shall have lO by-pass (11)' detailed discllssion oC the con-
ncction het,yeen Hume and Hutcheson , 1 suggest tliat a s),stematic
(
theOl'eLical differellce betwecn the two writers hecomes most appal'ent
( ",hen we examine tlleir dirrerent use of the doctrine of the ossociation
of ideas. Not only do the}' adopt dirrerent theories of ossociatioll, 26 hut
(
the)" dilTer importantl), in the manner in which they apply their
( theories. Of relativel)' minor importance fOl" Hutcheson,21 the associa-
tion of ideas was fOl" Hume his most important lheoretical innovation. 28
lt is largel)' by me8ns oC lhis principle tllat Hume sought to exhibit
( yarious moral and ps}'chological phenomena as merely instances of
( uniform psychological principIes. 'Yhereas Hutcheson postulated
original principIes in order to account rOl' lhe phenomena oC moral
approbatian ,29 Hume offered, for essenlially lhe same phenomena, a
different S01"t oC explanation. Hume \Vas no less willing than HUlcheson
to admit that men can teH the clifference between virtue and vice. Hut
unlike Hutcheson, fOI" whom lhi5 ability was an il'J'educible fact of man's
( nature, ond the endpoint of his theor)', JO Hume evident)y l'egarded lhis
( 'sense of morals' as being susceptible of furLher reductiol1. 3J Hume
1hought Ite could revea! such postula tes as a moral sense, to be theol'etic-
aH)' unnecessar)' and therefol'e unscientinc. 32 In lhe Trealise (though,
again, not as clearly in the Enqllirx) 11 ume takes what Hutclle~on
reaords as an iITeducible faculty (namel)', lhe moral sense) and explalns
it in terms of his principIe of sympathy-an instance of the principIe
of lhe associatioD oC ideas operaung over particular pleasures and paios.
Of Hume's ead}' relationship "ilh Hutcheson we know very liltle
beyond what can be inrerred from their surviving correspondence (four
)etters from Hume to Ilutcheson belween 1759 aud 1743, and a leller
fraln HUlcheson to Hen!')' Home).3J 1 shall Dot discuss their relation-
ship as indicated in lhe correspondence beyond saying that tbe latter
( reveals [our important pieces oí information. Vve learn first1y lhat
Hume submitted volume three in MS fOl" HUlcheson's criticisrn ,J4
<...
secondly that Hume sought Hutcheson's asislance in securing a pub-
\.. lisltcr fOl" the V'i'ork,35 thirdly lhat Hume l1ndertook to revise his work
(
....
R. W,CONNON
in certain parliculars, apparently so as nol to cause any embarrassment
lO Hutcheson over its publication on his [Le. H utcheson's] recom.
mendatioD,36 aud fourthl)', that Huteheson eventuall)' consented lO
recommend Hume to his own publisher, Thom8s Longman. J7
~ow il seerns lo have been widel)" assumed tllal lhe le:\:t Hllteheson
sa", in .i\IS was sllbstantially lhe ten that appeared in prillt. However, 1
helieve lhat a close examinatioll DI lhe evidence-and here aH we have
stlch a concJl1sion. 'Ve kno'" fr0111 certain of the l'emarks macle in the
letters lhat Hutcheson ",as familiar ",ith al least some of the themes
f1"OI11 volume three, such as Hume's important assertion that justiee is
[111 'artificial virtue' (one, incidenlallrl to which Tlulcheson appeal"s to
hnye objected J8 ), hut ",e cannot necessal"ih- concluele lhat Hutcheson
so,," Hmne's manuseript Úl lhe form in luhú:}¡' Ú wcnllo primo
"'e know from the )etters lhat, aIter some initial reluctance, Hume
offered lo make sorne alterations to his \Yorb. J9 in order , })re:illmablYl to
ovel'come reservatians lhat Ilulcheson had e:\..p ressed about recornmend-
ing lhe work to his publisher. Hume explicitly mentions lhe case of
certaio passages lhal might give offenee to the religious 4o and gives
Hntcheson to ullderstand lhat he will remove them.'u "llal has 110t
been remarked in lhe correspondence, howe\'"er, is lhal se\'eral passages
seem calculated to give HUlcheson lhe impression that Hume was als.o
re\"ising his ,york in a more generall)' FIIllCheSDlliall direction.
Thel'e is, {or examp}e, in lhe leUel" of 16th 1\Iarch 17-10, Hume's
request fol' adyice from Hntcheson on what he calls a 'Point oí Prud-
ence'. Hume quotes the passage in \"hich he compares virtue and vice
to sonnds and colours, and 8S1.5 Hutcheson whethel' he ought to include
it. 42 There may well have been a point of prudence al stake; on the
olher hand, it ",ouId be difficult to find aOJ more characteristically
Bntchesonian passage in the whole of the Trealise:t3 It Is in lhis light,
1 believe, that we ought lO consider the finl slteration, (,1,.), whieh 1
have lisled. In the }etter which accompanies the MS 'Conelusion ' Hume
assures HUlcheson that 'The Book is prett)- much ah€r'd since )"ou sS'Y
it'.H As an earnest of lhis, he "'Tites '1 have sent rou the Conclusioll,
as 1 ha ve alter'd it, that ron may see 1 de5ire to keep on good Terms
even \"rith lhe stricte5t & most rigid.'.t5 In scoring out the \,"ords 'both
Out· Selfishncss and Pride" which occnr io a}lposition lo the ])hrase
'every PrincipIe of om· Nature', Hume Ola} appeal' to be repudiating
(snd most certsillly would have been taken by Ilutcheson as repudiat-
iog) s certaia sorl of basis for moralitYl namely selfi:.hness and pride, a
po,ilion popularly associated with Dr Bernard Mandeville and nlher
writers who came to be called 'the selfish sehooP. Hutcheson was
vehemently opposed to such theories and his main work on morah, lhe
r
( I-Iume's MS Alleralions lo Treatise
( Illqtu"ry, was (he te115 us in the title page) directed ogainst the CAuthar
( DI the Fable ofthe Bus' .<$6
''''hile Hume and HUlcheson were on the same side of one con-
(
temporary debate, the question oC whcther moraJity was based on
( reason or sentiment, ther seem to llave beco on opposite sides with
respeet to another: the question of the origin oI the 'peculiar' feelings
(
specificall), associated with moralit)' (Hume makes interesting allusion
( to this debate on t"'o occasions in Book tI ):" Unlike Hutcheson, Hwne
lnawtained that the particular feelings associated \""ilh virtuc, in
particular the virtue of justice, \Vere nol 'original' and 'implanted' (as
Hutcheson believed48) but were rother the result oI 'interest' and
( (education'. Again, this is most avident fronl a coDsideration oC the way
Hume emplo),s the ps)'chologieal principie of the association of ideas."
The clea.rest e..idence for lhis is to be found in certain secLions of Book
111, sections, 1 suggest, that Hutcheson may llot ha ve seeo in MS. sO
It is against this background that tbe alterations 1 ha ve cited may be
understood. It is evident from his correspondence with HutchesOll tltat
Rwne reIt obliged to male sorne alteraLions lo his \-york simply in arder
to satisfy Hutcheson. Ha\"ing succeeded in this, however, Hume could
Del resisl making sorne last minute alterations to the texto At least part
oí his renson for doing this was to make more e:qllicit his real position
on the question of tbe motive to justice, and, thereby, to dissociate rus
own theory from Hutcheson's moral sense 8nd benevolence theory.
(
This is also consistent "ith the bibliogral'hical el'idellce, which tends
( to suggest tilat Hlllne wasmaking fairly substnntial alterations dw-ing
the fi nal stages of printing. SI
(
If tile llreceding hypothesis is correct, the alterations to volume three
( have a ratber peculiar significance in the metamorphosis oí the work.
( It may be inferred from I-ltUlle's correspondence with HutchesOll 011
the Olle hand, and Hu.me's M S aIterations 011 the otlter, that over two
dirferent periods Hume revised his work in two sOlnewhat diverging
( directions, the first to overCOlUe Hutcheson's moral and religious
scruples, alld the second to emphasize a certain poiut about htWlan
( natw'e that the first re"ision mar have parLial1y cOllcealed. The MS
( alterations, then, are important for the light they shed upon this latter
line of developlllellt.
(
'Vhether Hutcheson aCLuallr received the impression that Hume
\Vas trying to conver in his letters, namely, that he \Vas developing an
( essenLiaUy Hutchesonian theory, is, perhaps, a lnoot point. It is clear,
however, that after initially voicing certain scruples Hutcheson did
( finally consent to the request tbat he use his influence on Hume's bebalI
to find him a publisher (1Ú5 own as it happened)."
1 no'V wish to suggest, as briefl}' as 1 can, the way in which Hume
(
111 n.W.CONNON '97
IDay have been able to give Hutcheson (and, therefore, a good many
Hume scholars) the false impression that his theory of maraIs was a
development of Hutcheson's own position without actually having to
cornmit himself to Hutcheson's theory.
ADyoDe well acquainted with thc Treatise will bc nware of Hume's
tendency to use a term of ordinary discourse in an unIamiliar and quite
technical sense,5J an almost unavoidable practice oC a reductionist
theory. ti terros sucll as fsympathy'H aad (natural'55 \Vere used {Ull-
Liguously by Hume in such a \Vayas to conceal tite fact tltat he was us-
ing thetn in a quite speeific technieai sense, he could easily have
succeeded in creatlng 00 Hutcheson's part o somewhal mÍstaken Í1n-
pression about tbe tendency oí his theory. Thus, like Hutcheson, Hume
couId insist on the importance of having a (virtuous motive' but mean
by tbis expression sometlting quite diffel'ent from what Hutcheson
would ha ve understood by the phrase. Hume secms lo use IvU,tuous
motive' to refer indifferentIy lo anything which could successfuUy
prompt us to perform a virtuous ael. In other words he seems to use
tlle phrase 'vírtuous motive' as if it \Vere equivalent in meaning to
(motive to virtue'.56 'Vhen \Ve recall that Hutclteson would haye been
acquainted \Vith Hume's theory of marals in I\lS instalments onl)', and,
possibly, only selected MS instalments, it is l10t difricult to see ho\V
Hutcheson could ha ve been left with the impression that Hume's posi-
tion had greater affinities with his O\VU than it reallr hado
l\'Iany of Hume's eommentators have eXIJressed puzzlement at
I-lume's apparent admissioll oí a nloral sense in section ji oí part 1.S7 It
seems to be inconsistent ",ith the reductionist tendency of the Trcatise.
lndeed, this admission is perhaps the stl'ongcst primaJacie evidence for
I-lume's connection \\;th Rl1tehesoll. Yet, nppearances to the contrary
nOhvitbstanding, it is sUl'el)' a lnistake to ascribe o mornlsense tlteory to
Hume. It is significant tbat, opart froln one isoloted instance, BUlue
does not use the pirrase (moral sense' in the seclion in wlüch he is sup-
posed to maintain the theory of tlle moral sense. lIe speaks insteod of a
(sellse oí virtue'58 (whieh, since it denotes no more thím tile phenomella
of moral approbaúon and disapprobaúon, Hume believed he could
reduce after the manner 1 illuicated on pnge 21+ above). The isolated
iIl5tance is in the section title, 'l\Ioral distinction5 derived f!'om a moral
sense" ond ils appearance here certainly does create tite impression,
which, if 1 ain I'ight, Hume ",anted HutchesO.ll lo have, tltat he
aecepted tbe moral sense theory.59 It is lTIost Jikely that I-Iulcheson
,,"ouId have beell shown Hume's cady draft of this SectiOll, \Vith its
extraordinal"Y concessiou to revealed religioll (in the forro oí al1
italjcized sentence implying I-Iume's belief in the 'miracles, on which
OUT religion is fouuded' )60 as \VeU as its rather uucharacteristic pane-
(
( !-Jume's rvl s AlieraliollS to TreaLise
( gyric on the beatll)" oC noble and generolls oClions. 6) This sectioD COIl-
( tDins a1so sorne oí lhe mast perplexing })assoges in the Trealise, as aoy-
one who has tried lo moke senso oC the passage on page 471 (intended
( ir would seem lo clarifr the connection between plcasm"e and moral
( approbation) wilI snrel)' agree.
As for those section5 oí lhe Treatisc 1hal, in alllikelihood, HUlcheson
( díd llol see, 1 suggC$t, as Dile obviollS candidate, 1he section entilled
( ISome farlher l'eneclions concerning justice aDd injustice'. In this
sectioll Hume annoul1ces that l1e \Viii 'apen up a litue more distinclly'
his sentiments on the subjecl oC lhe origin of justice. 62 Here Hume
explicilly uenies thar lhefe is nn)' need to poslulale lhe existence of an)'
'peculiar original principIes' in human nature beyond self-interested
pa5sioos. 63 Repudiating lhe view (""hich, elsewhere, he ascribes to
( Hutcheso0 64 ) that men have been endowed wilh a strong regard for
(
moral good, Hume maintains 1hat, OD the contrary, "lis self-Iove which
is lheir real origin' (se. the lawsofjustice).6s
( 1 hope 1 have said enough to show at least the possibility of a connec-
( tion belween Hume's negotiations witll HUlcheson on lhe questioo oC a
new publisher and sorne of the alterations made by Hume 00 a copy of
volume three. As lo the question of the textual significance of the altera-
( tions, 1 think tbal we are entilled to draw at least one general con-
clusion. An)' new emtion oC the Trealúe making use of lbese a1teralions
(
should incorporate them in such a way as to make it clear to the reaeler
( that he is reading a passage Hume nllered. l\10reover, it would be
preferable if this ""ere done in such a way as to indicate the original
(
reading, so enabling the reader to fonn bis own conc1usions regarding
( the significance of the alterations.
( In conclusion J 1 '","ould like to npologize for adding yel 3nolher
exegetical complication LO the sludy oC a work which is alTead)' difricult
( cnoltgh. There ma)' be a few benefits, however. The traditional con-
( strainl placed upon any intel'pretalion of H urne on morals, that il be
consistent with rus ad miss ion of a moral sense, llas tended to conceal
olher, positive, features of Hume's thought in the Trealise. The
emphasis upon self-interest suggests, perbaps, a more immediate con-
neclion behveen the Trealise and his essays on Political econoroy in the
Poliúcal Discourses, between his critique of certain tenets of so-called
merchant capitalisrn al' mercanlilism and Adam Smith's classictheary.66
The assumptian that a clase theoretical cannection existed ben'Veen
Hume and Hutchesan has similaloly tended lo obscure {al' us Hume's
very real affinities with thase writers, such as Hobbes, Bayle aud
MandevilJe) from whom Hume inherited, most imporuntly, his view
of human nature. 67 It was in works by Hobbes that Hume's mast im-
\. -
portant theoretical tool, bis doctrine of the associatian oC ideas, was
1I 1 R. W.CONNON '99
forged. 68 VVe may find in Barle Hume's lhesi5 thal reasan canDat
prompt liS to any actiol1,69 and, in a11 three wrilers, the coromon belief
concerning human nature that roan almost always faUo\Y5 lhe ruling
passion of his soul. 70
This view of hnman llature, SO carefullr concealed in his laler works,
Hume ne\'er abandoned. It is signincant lhat, shúrllr before his death,
Hume should have de:-frihed the lave of literary fame as his 0"'11
particular 'ruling passioll' .11 Sorne have been puzzled that Hume should
have left us with a stalemenl that seen15 to invite c)'nicaI speculation
aboltt his philosophical imegrit -. The statement, hO\\"e\-el', merelr
highlights Hu.me's sincerel)' held belief abOltl hurnan nature. 1 believe
il can he laken as lhe finnl aUlobiogl'aphical statpment of 3 lIlan ",ho,
looking back upon his life, l'efllSed lO do so in bad faith.
Ho\VeverJ if Hume md tUl'n his back on ]1hilo:oph)" it mal' equally
be said that philosophy had done no les5 to hilll. After hi., major con-
tribution to plúlasoph), 'failed eyen to excite a murmw· among the
2ealots' Hume's choice was either to abandon \\Titing for a philo-
sophica] aumence altogether, 01' to bury hi:; real philosophical seotiments
so deepl)' in bis more accessible works as to render them aH bnt im-
possible lo detect.
It is, perhaps, in this light that ",e should intel'pret h~ final a1teralion
to the Enqlliry, and his real position on the qne~tion of self-lave "\'eI'SUS
benevolence. The final altel'alion to his Enquily, to mr knowledge the
Iast alteratiol1 Hume mnde lo an}' oC his \Yol'ks, i3 one he made two
hundred years ago. 00 12th Augu5t 1776 Hume penned the foHon-ing
letler to 5tl'ahao, his pri11 te1'l publishe1':
DearSir
Please to make with )'ollr Pen lbe Iollo\Ying Coneclion. In the
second Volume of Ill)' philosopllical Pieces, P.2"k}, 1.1, and 2,
eraze these words, liza! there is sltch a selllimenl in hu.man nature
as benevolence.
This, De81' Sir, is the last COl'l'eclion 1 shall pl'oLahly lrouhle )'OU
wüh. 0
72
••
ShOl'lly before directing Slrahan LO remove tite onl)' assertion in the
text of the Enquiry lhat explicill)' cOlumitted him to tbe cÁi3tence a{ an
original principIe oC benevolence, Hume had asked Strahan to transfel'
the opeoing passage of his fil'st sectioo, IOf Beneyolence) (the Hutches-
sOllian ']ovely re]lresentation of human nalLUoe'): to the ead of the
hook, where J Hume directs, it shollld become a second appendix uoder
a uew tille, (OE Self-Iove'.13 The phi.losophical significance of the dying
I author's last liter81'y act has not yet beeo full), apprecialed. Rather than
rewrite the passage tbat condemns aoy attempt to l'~duce benevolence to
I self-love, Hume sets the record straight by a simple change oftitle.
I
(
( ~OO IIume's MS Alleralions lo Treatise 111
{ As Ernest C. Mossner has just1y rernarked 'Never was the phüosopher
more iranica! than in making his preparatious foc dying',14 to which he
might have added 'and, ironicaliy, never was he more DI a philosopher ' .
( in the Eighll:eulh Gentwy (Landon L954) p. 97, ¡tallcs mine.)
1. See R.. ,Y. Connon 'Some MS Corrcctions by Hume in the Third Volume
( of his Treatise 01 Human, Nalure' Long Room 11 (1975) 14-!:!z. The
disco\"cry was first annoul1ced in a letter in the T LS (4 April 1975) 376.
( M5 altcrations to the Abstract l\re listed in R. W. Connoo 'Some Hume
{ 1\-1 S Alterations on il Capy of thc Abstraet' JounlQl 01 !he Histo,.y al
Philo,op"r 14 (1976) 355-6.
( z. For a tllore detailed c.liscussion see 'Corrections ... in the Third Valume
. . . ', 14-1 5.
( 3. Professor K.Jibansky·s note appc"red in Hume; Theo,.y o/ Polilics l cel.
F. ~Tntk.ills (Edinburgh 1951) pp. 245-6.
( ,~. Other possihle explanations are (i) Hume made the alterations in tlle hope
of illteresting a publisher in bringing out a sccond edition oC tIte Tn!atisc,
(ii) Hume made tile alterations in the course oC preparing a ne\\- work on
( 'morals'. (Bis EI1Qlliry cOIlU,-nil1g tILe Principies of 11101"4& \Vas published
in 175t.) (¡ii) Hume made the alterations on a particular copy rOl' priate
( circulatioll. On the basis sol el)' of lhe textual and bibliographical c\ ¡dence
tllere iS I 1 believe, some slight reason for supposing that the alterations
(
were intended for lhe first edition oC the ,,-ol'k. A comparison '","ith other
( copies sllggests that the 'Hume Capy' is probably an early capy of the
edition since it exhibits fewer correctioos, Le. eorrections made by the
printe!", than otlter copies. l\lorcover, the alterations made on the capy,
in addition to eonfonning to eighteenth-eentury prooC correction can-
"enlions, appear lo hn\'e heen llIade on lile printed sheets before the book
was bound. There is the additiona.1 fact that some of the MS alterations
","ere incorporated in the lext oC some copies by means oC cancelled lea'\"es.
\ This ,,"ould be eonsistent ,\ith the hypothesis that they may alllHwe been
in tended as prooC corrections to he incorporateu into the firsL edition. The
( principal "ariants within the ellition, and certainly aH the major ones
that 1 ha ve come ncross ha_e been given hy '''ilLiam Todd in his recenL
hibliogrnphical uescl"iplion oC the Trcalise (,Da_id Hume. A Preliminary
Bibliography' in 'V. B. Todd (ed.) Hume a"d tlle E"lightl'llmcflt. Esmys
preselltcd lo E,."cst Campbell l\IosS1Icr (Edinburgh aml Austin 197+) pp.
189-2051 es!). p. 190.
5· The fjrst ec.lition ofthis work was pubJished in Landon in l751.
6. Lcllen, i. 57.
7· P. H. i'\idditch is preparing a new critical cdition oí the ElIquirics with nn
apparatus of varinnL readings. See his notes to his re\-ised '\"ersion of the
Selhy-Digge edition of Enqlli,.io COllcerning thc HWlll1/t Undcrstalldiflg
alld COllccrning lhe Principies of A1ol'als by Dal.:id !fUI/U', 51"1.1 t>dition,
( ed. L. A. Selby-lligge, "ith text revised and noles by P. 11. Nidditch
( (Oxfonl1975) pp. 348"-1ln.
8. Lettcr'(1 ii. 531-2.
\ 9· See Lcltcrs, i. 25, 36-'7~ ami cL D'Alelllbert's response to Voltaire's
criticism oC several articles on lheology and metaph}'sics, which had
~ appeared in the French Ellcyclopédie: 'No douht we ha"e bad articles in
( I
R.W.CQNNQN ~01
theoJogy and metaphysics, hut smee we publish by favone, and have
theologians for censon, 1 deCy you to make tllem any better. There are
olher articles that are far less exposed te the daylight, o.nd in them all is
repaired. Time will enable people lo distin.guis/1 wlUlt we ¡'av~ thouglltfi-om
IL:"at IUf! ha¡;e said.' (Quoted in .K..ingsley l\lartin FI"ellch Liberal Thought
10. See in lhis regarel Selbr-Bigge's excel1ent cJiScusslon of Lhe relalionship
between the T,-eatiu and the E'Lquiries in his 'Illtroduction' Lo the
Enqui"ies, esp. pp. xxiii-xxxi.
11. Seep.212,below.
12. See Selby-Bigge's 'Introduction' p. xxiii o.nd T. H. Greell's note (Tlle
P¡'ilosophicallf'orJ¡s of David Hume, ed. T. H. Green ami T. l-l. Grose,
4 '\"ols. (Landon, 187,~-(5) "01. 1v, p. 5211.) See also Ernest Albee 'Hume's
Ethical System' rile PhilosoplLicn.l Review 6 (189() 557-55·
Philosophical ¡Vod..·s, '·01. IV, p. 52n and Selby-Higge's 'Introduction',
p. x~-iv.
'4· D,.itü¡, MOI·alists, ed. L. A. Selby-Bigge (Oxford 1897)'
'5· N'orman Kemp Smith The Philosophy of David Hume (Londoll 194 1 );
see, for exam}Jle, the preface, p. vi.
,6. Francis Hutcheson Inqui,y COllcerlling lhe Origi1lal of our Idr(ls of
fTirtue and J1[oral Good (Dublin 1725). All references to Hl.ltcheson's
Inqu¡'y are to the seeond edition reprinted in Britisll l\Torlllisls, ed. L. A.
Selby-Bigge.
17· Fl'ancis Hutcheson Eua)" OH tlle Nntlwe alld the COl/dl/ct o/Ihe Passiolls
alld IllustratiollS OH tlu: 1\1oml Sel/se (London 1728).
,8. E. C.lVJossnerTJu: LifcofDaL'idIl"ulllc(Edinburgh and AlIStin 1954) p. 76n .
19. Evidence concerning Hume's reading of Bayle )IIay be found in Professor
l\lossner's edition oC Hume's MS notebook 'l1ume l s Early l\lemortlnda,
1.729-40: The Complete Text' Joun"zl oflhe Ri!/ol]" o/ Ideas IX (194-8 )
49 2 -5 18 .
20. 'Hume's E..uly i\1emoranda ...', p. 498.
21. John Gay PrclimiTlary Dissertatior¡ COTlceruing the Fundamental Principies
of Vi,·tul: 01" iHoralil)", inc!udeu in the 1731 cdition oC 'Villiam .K..illg An
Essay 01/. tlle Origilt of Evil, transo from tile Latin hy Edmund Law
(Lonuon 1751) pp. xi-xx.xiii.
22. Gay, pp. xi-~;ii.
See esp. Section 1 of pt. 111 1 bk. 111, pp. 466-6:-. AIl references to Lite
Tnatise are to the Selby-Bigge edition.
GaYI pp. xiiiff.
1 ha'\"e a.rgued this al length in my unpublishetl Doctoral Thesis to be
submitteu at the Uni'-ersily ofOxford: esp. chapten \', \'1 ami VIII.
Fo!" a recent disellssion of the tliffering origins of Hume's ami Jlulche-
son 's doctrines oC the association of ideas see Martin Kallich Tite Associa-
tion of Idca.' allli C,.iticlll TheolY ¡JI Eightccnth-Cell(wT Englnllll. (The
Haglle 1970). psp. pp. 56-65, 68, íO, 73-95· K"llich i\.rg~lcs that tI.le
doctrine of the association of ideas took two more or less (hstlllct fOl"lllS 11I
the eiahteenth centun- one del"i'\"in a fmm Locke and the other from
Hobbe~. Kallich mainta·¡:lS that in HU~le's case the form oC associ"tioJli~JlI
o.tlopted was the Hobbesian _ersion whereas Hlltchesoll adoptetl the
Lockean '\"ersion. In another study oC associationism Luigi Ferri makes the
I same point concerning lhe fonn of Hutchesoll's associationism, La
~
(
( 201 Hume's M s AlteraJiolls lo Treatise J 1I
( Psychologic de l'.rlssociatio,~ dcpuis Hobbcs j/lsqu'ti 'lOS jaurs (his/aire el
critique) (Paris 1883) p. 12.
( (O.xford 1924-) yoIs. 1, cxIí and 1(, 3+5n-3+6n.
27. eL James IVJcCosh Thc Scotlisll Phi/o$ophX (Loru.lon 1875) pp. 77-8.
( 28. See Hume'! OWIl relllarks concerning his use af lile doctrine of tlle
association 01' ideas in An. Abstraet (jf {/ T,.cflfi.~I· of llllHl(1Il NalJwc
( (Landan 1740) p. 31.
29. cL 1119"i1)", seco ¡v, para. I+~, p. 127.
( of lite condilioned response.
30. cL ¡II9uiry, seco ii, para. 94, p. 87- See also Sir James i\'lacInlosh •Disserta-
tioo on lhe Progress or Ethical Philosophy' The l11iscdlallí'OIlS ¡Vo,-},:s o/
(
Sir .JaI1JJ·s l\'rae JI/fusil, 5 \'ols. (18+6) "01. r, p. 126.
( 31. 01"1 l1ullle's uecollnl ¡he 'seme 01' virlllc' is nol regarded as an 'original
instincl' 01" the human llIind hllt is instcnd uccollnted for in tcnns of lhc
( ll10re general doctrine of spnpathYi see, fOl' eXilmplc, Trclltisc, p. 619.
:)2. To postulnle an Ol'iginallllorill sense lo explnin lhe phcnolllcnon of moral
( 111 what sense he pIcases'.
<1iscrimination (whel'e lhe lalter could he uccountccl for in terms of a
( principIe of greater generality such as Ihe principIe of Ihe association oC
ideas) mighL be seen as a violation of Ncwtou's first <Rule of Reasoning
( in Philosophy' ("i:L. "Ye are to ndmit no more Cnllses of natural things
than sllch as are both ll'lle amI sufficiellt lo explain their appearances',
( Sir Isaac Newton PJli/osophine Natll1"alis Prillcipitl i\1alhcmatica, 2 voh
(London J686) vol. JI, ~0'2). This is implicd by Gay's remarks on p. xh',
(see note 21, above)j er. note 50, below.
( 53. Tan Ross 'Hutchcsoll on Hume's Treatisc: An Unnoticecl Lener' Jourllal
oflhe History o/ PhiJosophX IV (1966) 69-'72.
( 5'1.' Lellers, i·3 2 .
35. Lellers, i.5 6 -'7.
56. Lclters, i. 37.
37. Letlcrs, i. 38.
58. Ll!llers, i. 33j cL als046-8.
59· er. Lettcrs, i. 33, 3+, 56, 37·
+0. Lciters, i. 34, 37·
,p. Lcttcrs, i. 34-.
42. [... eiters, i. 39-40. The conesponding passage in lhe Trcatisc occurs in
( 58.
Dook 111, Pal'L " Seetion 1, p. +69. This may perhaps be tallen as nn
indicalion tl1al tlle fil'SL seetion amI possihly the enlire first parl of Dock
III ]llay have heen among the last sections which Hume comp05ed.
eL, for e~amplc, IIutcheson's passage in seco i, art. xvi, in his Al! IlIquity
ColtccrulIIg Beaut,r, Order, HarmollY, Desigll (London 17~5), edited in
a modern rcprint by Pe ter Kivy (The I [ague 1973) pp. 38-39. (The text
is hased 011 lhe fOllrth ec1ition.)
Leltcrs, i. 37.
ibid.
Bemard Mandevil1e T¡'c Fable aftlle Becs, o,' Private rices publicA' bellefils.
COlllaillillg s~crai tlisco/trsl's lo dcmoll .•trate t/IU! human frailties ... maJ'
be tflrlll:d lo lhe advalllage of civil socid}" (Lonl1on 1714)' In the Ach-ertise-
ment that HUlcheson adcled to lhe fOltl'lh edition of his Refll'ctiolls UpOIL
Lnllghter hc "gaio mentions Mandedl1e's Pabie, descl'ibinrr it as 'that
pel'niciollS book'l 4th. edilion (London). Raye, lhe editor of ~he standard
edilion of Mancleville's Fubie describes Hlltchesol1 as Mandeville's 'mosl
persislent opponent': Mandeville ",as un obsession \\;th Huteheson
according to Kaye 'He could hal'dly wrile a book without devoting much
R. W.CONNON
of it to nttacking the Fuble'. (Tite Fable . . . , ed. F. B. Raye, 2 vols.
cL T,-eatiu, pp. !295-6, and esp. p. 3J o.
See Illqlli'-:r, seco ii, pan!., 87, p. 83j eL Sir James l\1adntosh, J, p. 1!26.
I-Iume's fl'cquent appeals to lhe innnence of 'general rules' 011 human
nattlre testiIy to his awal'eness of the familiar ps}'chololTical phenomenon
o
See p. 217, belo\\'.
See note 4, aboye.
The Trl!atfs/',. Dook JII, 0llVIarals, \Vas pllblished fOl' Thomns Langman
at Ihe Slllp m Paler-nosler-Row. Lonamnn was Hntcheson's Londan
pllblisher amI booksellcr. o
53· ~L Hume's I'emark on p. 1240 concerning a ",.iter's l'igllt lo lIse 'his lel'1ll5
54· cL Trealiu, pp. 517, 569, 584-6, 427. I-ltlme's concept of sympathy has
sorne affinities ",ilh that of MundeviJIe as expresscd in his FabJt!, see
remul'k (N), VP. 163, )65 (Hannomlsworth: Penguin Dooks 1970); cL
also pp. )00 ami 192. James Noxon has aIso 5uU"fTested a connection wilh
i\1ande\'ille via Hume's concepl of s}'rnpathy,O~1 Hume's PltilosophiclIl
Del·eJopmellt .. A Sttidr oI his M cthods (O.xford 1973) p. 23.
55, cf., for example, HUnle's use of lhe phrase 'natural sentimenls' on p. 500.
For more information eoncerning Hume's original MS alterations to this
passage (which are partiall)" incorporaled in the Selhy-Bigge edil ion) see
Connon, 'Corrections ... in the Thircl Voll11ne ... 'p. 151 lhe alteration to
p. 76 of the fil'sL edition.
56. Hume seems to use lhe phrase '"il'tuous motive' in a rather loase sense
simply to mean 'lhe moti\'e lo vil'lue' (which turns out, for Hume, to be
pleasul'e in sOllle qualificd sense). 1'his use oC the phrase amounts to
something of a departure from 'ortlinary lanrJ"Uaae' where Ihe wonl
• • , J b o o
"lrlIlOUS won 11 c understood as modifying lhe word 'motive'.
57· ce. John HilI Burlon Lije ami Co,."espomJcm:.: o/ David Hl/me (Edinburgh
1846) vol. 1, p. 101.
cL T'"Crtlisc J pp. 47),475,484, 500. Hume, on a llulllber oI occnsiollS, also
uses lhe phrase 'sense al' mOl'als'j see pp. 483, 499 and 619 (this last
reference is lo a passage which 1[uleheson would have seen in the lol S
'Conclusion'). Hume somelimes nlso refen lo a 'sense of moralily', p. 479.
59· The only olher occasion 1 have found where Hume uses the phrase the
'moral sense' i5 on p. 588. Here il is even more clear that Hume did nol
accepl the doclrine oC an original moral sense, for he refen to his own
'cxplication oC the moral sense' in lerms of sympalhy. The passarre also
eontains un inleresling allusion to Newlon's 'Rules of Reasonina in
Philosophy' i cL note 32 aboye. o
60. Trealise, p. 474.
61. Trcntise, p. 470. Hume e).-presses a similar enthnsinsm for virlue and lhe
generosity of human nature (altered by Hume lo read 'our nature', see
Connon, p. 21) in his 'Conclusion', p. 619. This we know (see aboye p.
207) ",as submilled lo Hutcheson in ~I S.
Trctrlise, p. 527.
Treatise, p. 526.
Letters, i. 4fi-¡.
(
( 204 f-lume's MS Alteraliolls lo Treatise 11[ KARL BRITTON 20 5

( 65- Treatise, p. 529.

( 66. lVlnny oC the entries in the surviving memoranda notebook (see note 29)
bean\'itness lo Hume's interest in political economy. See Mossner 'Hume's
( EarIy M.el11oranda ... " pp. 497-9. See also my docloral thesis, chapter
v llI.
( 67, For a succinct stalement oC tl1is view o[ human nature see MaUlle,ille [{LIme on some Non-Natural Distinctions
( Tite Fable . . " Kaye edition, vol. J, p. 39.
68. 1 have argued tllis al length in my doctoral thesís, chapte)" IV. See abo IN I-hs Enquiry concernillg the Principies of Morals, (uI.ii), Hume
( Kallich, pp. 14,93; Ferri, pp. 1-2; Gabriel Compayré La Philosophie de
cOlnpares distioctions of property with distinctions Dlade by supersti-
David Hume (París 1875) pp. 60-1 j Thamus Reíd 'Traill oC Thought in
( the 1\1ind' in Eswys on I!le ¡"tellectual POIUel"S o/ jVlan (London 1969) tion. Of course, the point oí the argument is to show how unlike they
ch. 4, Essay 4, p. +55; Dugalcl Stewart Collecled TVorks, 11 vals. (Edin- are-the one so useful aud the other so useless, bunlcllsonl.e anei
(
hurgh 18:'54-60) '{"al. I, p. 81. frivolous. But HUtlle considers one fundamental respect in which they
( 69· See, fol' example, PielTe Dayle i\1ücellaneolls lteflectiolls Occasion'd by lhe resemble each atber. VVItat is my propel'ty is determined by customary
Comet IVhich appear'd in December 1680. Chiej1y tending to crplode
synlbo1ic acts, and is marked by sorne object that serves as a reminder 01'
( Popular Superslitiolls (tralls) lo which is added lhe al/lbOl"s Lije, .2 '{"ols.
(Landa n 1708) vol. ll, pp. 374, 563, 54-6. In my thesis I present external proof that this symbolic action has beeo performed. In a parallel way,
( evidence for Hume's h¡\\+ing read this particular ,,-ork by Bayle. land or building thal is saered is determined by a symbolie aet-the aet
( 70. Dayle, 1, pp. 272, 279. Also er. lVlanueville Tite F(tble ... (Penguin) pp. oí consecratiol1; and it is commonly marked by SQlne holy sign 01'
200, 143i Tholllas Hobbes Leviathan (Harmomlsworth: Pengllin Books object Lhat indicates what has beeo done. In each case ,"ye have a dirfer-
( 1968) pp. 127-8. ence establishecl by the carrying out of a ritual action, and nzarked (very
71. Lelters,i·7·
( 72. Lelte1-$, ii. 331-2. often) by a permanent sign: initials 00 a boundary-stone, crosses iu a
75, Letters, ii. 329-3°. ,"mil, a na me added to a record. Of course, the ritual action is surricient
(
74· iVlossner Lije, p. 591. to make the distinction. But actions may later be forgotten 01' denied.
(The faintest ink is belter than the strongest memo!')". So say tile
vVelsh, and tbey should know.
(
The difference betv,;'een rny Jr:1l1d and yours cannot he observed. A
( division of territor)" occurs where a river flows 01' the hills begin. Tllese
( are essentiaUy observable: they are natlU'al distinctions. A division of
propert)" is non-natural and therefore is marked by waUs 01' lam]-
( marks.
( V\fhat is needed, then, to tuake and to mark the distinctions, are
symbols correctLy made. In any ritual, onl)' certain kinds of lrustake
(
matter at aH. In a deed of col1veyance a spelling mistake wou]c! be dis-
( regarded; nobody worries if an oath of allegiance is utLered in bad
Latin and bad Latin has conferred many 8n Honorar)' Degl'ee.
(
An oath of allegiance is an example of a kind of symbolic aet that
( seems to lne Vel]' importont. It establishes a distinction not of property
( but of status; it makes a division not of lanel 01' of things but of persons.
RUine takes it for gl'anted tItat aU such distinctions are non-rwlurnl.
<. The dirference between a lord ami his liegemnl1 is essentially ullobserv-
( able and is therefore marked by differel1ces oí dress ancl address. There
are differences between distinctions of pl'operty and <lislinctions of
( status: persons are not quite as simple as lands 01' goods.
l
,
I

I The non-natural distinctiol1s of religion relate to lands and goods and

¡ persons. Hume eonsiders the consecration of a building Ol' territory.

( I
-~
 (
(
!!oG Hume Dl! SOl/le IVoll-Nalural Distil1ClioflS
(
'Vhat dJ.ffercnce could lhe Uluttering oí cCl"lain words make to the
(
building? 15 not lhis a non-event?
( A SYl'ian ,,"ouId ha ve st81'ved l'uther than laste pigeoll; an Egyptian
would llol have appl'oached bacon.]
(
But there is no observable difference hetween the uneatable pigeons of
( Yl'iD and lhe wholesome pigcons oC Scotland. Still Illore striking, ho\V
(
con chicken on Thursdays be gaoel [oad and chicken on Fl'iclays abomin-
able? There is no natural kind called chicken-On-lhul'sday DI' chicken-on-
( friela)': there is just cllicken.
( BUl H LIme does Ilot di51l1iS5 t hese superstitiol1S distinctions becnuse
lhe)' are non-natural. 011 lhe contrar)', he uses them lo explain in whal
( way lile distinclions ofpropert), are non-natural:
( llad 1 \Vorn tllis apparel an hour ago, I had rneriled the severest
punishment; bul a man, by pronouncing a few magicnl syllables,
(
has no\V rendered il nt for my use ancl service. 2
( Hume's total rejection of rcligious distinctions is not made on the
grounds lhat they are meaningless 01' derive from non-events. Ue rejecLs
(
them because of what he takes to be thei.r meaning. lf tllere were a
realm of supernatural heings actuall)' exüting-if indeed the sllper-
natural \Vere natw'al-thcse distinclions would be exu'emely use fuI. If
lhere were gods, we should do ",eH lO oITer }JI'ayers aud sacrifices and
lhe whole apparatus of religion might be vel'Y well wortll while.
1 wish to make lhe following three comments and to sllpportlhem:
(1) Distinctions of }>ersons are often valued fol' thenJSelves and not
(
(01' not only) on account of the natural advantages Lhey bl'ing.
( 'Ve see lbis where the symbol which mal'ks out a certain slatus
is itsel[ richly valued-as, fol' example, a family name.
(
e2) Fl'iendship may be l'egal'ded as a kind of stalu, mal'ked by
symbols which haye to be respected if the friendsllip is to hold.
(
Otller distinctions of persons bestolV a temporal)' status, as lhe
bridc. In sueh cases the status is mal'ked ehieny by the way lVe
behave to ils possessol'. It is the deference shown to the bride
that makes her brief status wo1'th having.
(3) Religious distinclions are better undel'stood by comparing t]¡em
( - with distinclions of status rather than wilh distinctions of
p..opel~)'.
(1) 1t is no doubt useful in many ways to be a wiIe 01' a husband, ao
Eldel' of lhe Kirk, a Peel' of the Realm 01' a DA. But there is alEO some-
lhjng attaching to the status itse1f: the symbols that mal'k out the slatus
are themseJves enjoyed. Of com'se, this always means V\rithin a given
society, againsl the more 01' less permanent background of an organised
society. 1t is somelhing that has to do with the being oí the society
rather than it5 doing; and with the being of those who eojoy the status
...
KARL BRITTüN
rather thao wit.h what they may do 01' get. "11at is there to being a
lord? 1 am toId It has advantages: )'OU can get lomo credit eA1:ended be-
cause even a bank feels il fl pri\'ilege to lend )"ou money. But 1 5uspeet
tllere is one outstaudiog bencfit and this is being addl'essed as 'Lord
So.and-so'J 01' 'Your Lordshjp', o]' '1\ly Lord J. Tlle s)"mbol itse1f cow-
mands regard, it is poetic, imaginative. And lh..i5 especian)' nttaches to a
tille that has beeo 110t eal'ned but illhel'ited. An eal'ned tille is a sino of
achievements; one might be proud of these aud think of the ti~e as
ll1al'k.ing out for other people a natural distinction (which the)' miaht
olhel'wise fail to natice) uetween hig YOll and liule Them. Thjs see~ll.s
to be Aristotlc's account of honouJ'. lt is the inherited tille that is the
]mrer commodjty. One can eojoy the title \úth no bellefits but the
honourabIe status: lhe address, the \1nifo1'm , the symbok Olle can
enjoy heraldic aehievements withont having an)' other achjevements
lo one's credit. BJ' contrast, lhe s)'mbols that mal'k out lauded properlV
and alher possessions are not vlllued on lheil' own aceount. 'Ve do u~t
bu)' suits in ol'der to collect receipts, and even tille-deeds do not the111-
se}Yes add an)'lhing lo life. 1 belie"e that snnbol, of stalus often do
precisel)' that: they add something to life; n~t an)' of lhe Cthings to be
met "rith in S}>ace'-not natural goods but non-natural goods. This
unfashionable view del'ives íl'om Colel'idge.
(2) 'Ve use symbols in ol'der to expl'ess to othel's onr feeljf]O"s lowal'ds
th.em. 'Ve send messages oI sympalhy and flo\Yel's and grape;and good
''\'1shes, and none oí these is intended to be llseful to the per~on who
receives them. In this way we may expl'ess the feeling of lIle mOmento
But OUI' ljves al'e not entil'ely consumed in the spontaneon.:ii overflow of
}>o\Yerful feelings. Our l¡kes and dislikes J affectiOllS and srmpathies
seule clown into long-term atlitudes ta people and places. The slructure
we sellle fol' makes distillctions between pel'3ons-some al whom
aequire with us a certain stalus. Therc are, one mjght sa)', fOl'malities
to be observed between hiends. The sll'ueture we seule fol' , in fact , is
demarcated by cerrain symbols, and some of lhese are a11 but essential
to any 50rt of friendship. A fl'iend acquires right5. "'hat miglit be called
basie to any friendship are C{riendly gestures' and immwlity fram un-
fdendl)' gestLU·es. Ir ro)' fdend announces his fortllcoming marl'iage
and 1 find rnyse1f considering the omens with despair J what am 1 to do?
Ir 1 am to preserve the existing relationship lhen J must send him m)'
cOllgratu]ations and good wishes. M)' silenee \Yould be laken as dcliber-
ately damagillg. 1 ha ve good reason for a srmbolic BetioD; snd he J to
expect it.
]n 8 somewhat similar way there are people who, while DOt our
permanent friends, may acquire a temporar), status: someone who acts
as my host 01' guest J the bl'ide, the bel'eaved, the new graduate. One
(
z08 Hume on same Non-Natw'al Distilletions KARL BRITTON z09
(
does nat write congratulations or condolences every day 01' rear by rear, To these Hume elsewhere adds the need for children-sLill, aU over
( but the structure of our lives requires us to send one 01' other 011 occa- the world, tite aim oí votive ofTerings. Such lleeds (of which ,,'ve may
( sion. "Ve write to the bereaved to acknowledge rOl' 'whom the bell has Dot be conscious) aud such desires stir the imagination, and in this way
tolled. It may be that this is absolutely all that we can do. The symboHc, \Ve come to view with astonishnlent 'the firstobscure traces oí divinit)". 4
(
expressive charaeter of these actions comes out lnost clearl)' in the case The important word in Hume's accouut is Castolllshed'. There must be
( of someone wha has to face a grent trial in the oear future. ';Ye send something that goes 011 below the level of consciolls scrutiny. \Ve 01l1"-
hinl our good \vishes now. It is uuderstood that this cannol affect lhe selves imagine supernatllral powers and \Ve view thenl ",ith astonish-
issue of tbe orcleal. If a dentist, about to extraet a tooth, '·'ere to affer mento The need 01' desire, the external power and tite symbol are
( necessarily connected. Tlle power lUltst have a name, and to cause the
you his best wishes that would be cause for alann. It is as symbols that
DtU' messages of good will matter. Agaio there are cases ",here Dol to power to operate, sorne symbolic action is also needed. lIence passlon
send such a message would be lo upset an existing Ol·der. Even those (interna! and projected), symbolic object ana symbolic actioll.
who are Ilol \'relcOlue may be entitled lo a welcome. (The host ",ho
( omiLted tlüs was rebuked by Jesus: cThou gavest me 110 kiss'.)
The fonnality of tltese srmbols serves to m.oderate tite expressiol1 of 1. Euquirics, p. 198.
( !2. Euquiries, p. 199.
íeelings aud to exclude the expressiou oí contrar)' feelings. And cer-
3. 'Tite Natural History oC I\eligioll' in The PhilomphicaL Iro,-k$ oJ Dauid
tainJy the control of the expression tends to be also a control of the feel- Hume, ed. T. f-I. Green and T. H. Grose (Londoll l87.~-5) "01. IV) p. 316.
( ings themselves. The use of formalmodes may eithel" inhibit 01" stimu- 4. ibid.
late the feelings. It makes a difference to the \'Vay we feel about cou~ins
( oI the opposite sex ir tlle customary greeting is a kiss.
( (5) The symbolic actions and objects ofreligion express what belie,"ers
(and others) feel 01' what in sorne sense the)" ollght to feel. It is possible
to think of prayers as n kind of good wishes, albeit wishes that invoke
a power. This i5 ver)' much Hurne's vie\Y. Pra)'ers fol' deliverance help
beeause tlle), support us now, nol because ther bring deliverance. No
prarers are answered except by chance, and tite po",er invoked only
seems to be external. In so far as there 15 auy operative power it must
He in the feelings of the well-wisher or sllpplicant and of the person
l"ayed foro The whole thing is subjeclive, but the minds and heal'ts of
those involved are more strongly affected if they belie"e that a pra)"er is
something more lhan a w15h. A blessing is a special íorm of prayer and
may be quite suictly fonnalised. It matters what formula is used and
who utters it. It is a symbolic act: an expression oí good will and some-
thing eIse as \Vell. The formula lllarks out a boundSl)' between tite
natural aud the supernatural. Tbis is, of course, not an observable
distiuction. The syulbol tlIat makes it is tlJe blessing itself.
The hopes and fears that give rise to symbols are the same that lead
us to imagine powel's tllat help 01' ucfend us. The powers of lave 01" fear
prompt tite imaginatioll to shape ideas of powers e>..1:ernal lo liS, ami in
this way, according to Hume, we are carl'ied Ibeyono tite pre~ent COlu·se
ofthings'. The passions involved must be thecollunon primitive passions:
the ordillar)" affections of human life; the anxious concern for
happilless, the dread of future miser)', the terror of death, the
l thirst ofrevenge, the appetite fOl" food and other necessaries. 3
 (
( EUGENE SAPADIN
ZIO
(
( what 1 shall concentrate on. Thi5 is a discussion, then , of an argument
( Law }lUssagc, ",hich is ¡ts final stcp.
Hume's Law, Hume's ¡Vay
( Hume's challenge to the Rationalist is iS51led, and the impossibilil}'
As You l\[AY RECALL, when Hume \Vas on his deathbed, Boswell
(
jOllrne)'ed lo Edinuurgh to ask the Gl'eat Athei~t ir he thought it was
( pos:üblc that hi:i soul might sUI'\'ive-. Hume responded that it was
possible 1hat a piece of con1, th1"o\\'11 on the fire, ,,"ould nol buril. Just in
(
case t}¡nt picce oC coal dic1 l10t burn alld Hume is stil1 with liS, 1 tbink he
,,"ould appreciate it ir \Ve gOL straight what he \Yas saying) instead of us-
r
ing him for 0111" own purposes. For this reason 1 ,,"ould like to re-open
lhe question of the now famous lis-ought' pas:::age in the Treatúe of
( f.lulJ1rl1l f\lalure. Hume has usuallr been t.ak.en to be sayillg, in thjs
( pnssage, lhat moral statemcnlS can never be derivcu f1"ol11 statements
thnt do not contaio moral lerl11s, so that morality becomes ao autono-
mous branch oE knowledge or oí discoul'se, depending on the sophistica-
tioll oC one's position. This interpretation of the passage is not merel)'
quoted but approved of by many disparate groups, each anxious lo
sho\V that factual pl"enüses cannat lead lo moral conc1usions, and has
enteretllhe lexicon as 'Hume's Law'.
It is In)' contention lhat this is not what Hume is talking abOlll, aod
tllat the Hume's Law passage is at best onl)' peripherally relevant to
the meta-ethical disputes of the t'wentieth century. For the cIue to the
correct interpretatioll oí the passage, we must rcmember that it does
not stand alone, but is part of a chapter in which Hume has beeo argu-
\ ing tllat renson can not be the basis l of morals. He c1aims lhat he can
establislJ this by showing tltat reason atone can never make the distinc-
tion between right and wrong, and that even iI iL could, it cauld do
nothing to luake liS act accordingly. As Hume puts it: 1 'Tis one thing to
know virtue J and another to confonn the will to it.' (Treatise, P'465)·
The H ume's Law passage is an explication oí this point.
Thc appl'aach, then, wiII be oh1ique. 1 intend tú look at the argument
oC Book 11 J, Pan i, section 1 oí the Trealise; Crol11 this we shall be ahle
to see ",hOl Hume is doing in the Hume's Law paragl"aph.
The intention oC the entire section is to show, as against the Rational-
iSLS, that reason can not be the sole basis (in an) sense) oC morality. In
t}¡e second haH, Hume scts alld discusscs two problems for thc J\ational-
ists. (A) They must be able to show the relalions 00 which a distinction
\ between right and l'vrong is founded, in such a \Yayas lo exclude any-
thing which has nothing to do with morality. (B) They must he able to
sho\\' that, if there were such perceivable moral relations, they would
EUGENE SAPADIN
:211
in faet be binding 011 us. Problem A is Dol the issue llerej problem B is
which l'llUS froOl page 46+ to page 1-1-70 of the Trealúe. My claim will
be thal it is immediatel)' relevant to the interpretatían of the JI ume's
oC his meeting it is argued for, in a llaragraph J1111ch-ignored unlil
recently:
Unt it 'Nill be still more difficuJL lO fulfil lhe seconc/ caneliLion,
requisite to justil)' LItis s),stem. Accol'ding lo the principIes oí those
""ho maintain an abstraet rational (liffcrence betwi.A't moral good
and evi}, and a natural fitness aad unfitness oC tllings, 'os oot only
snpposed, that these relalions, heiog eternal and immutahle, are
the same, when consider'd b), every rational creatUJ'e, but their
eJfects are a1so suppos'd to he necessarilJ the samc; and 'tisconc1uded
they have no less, 01' r8ther a greater, lnfll.lence in directing the
.J will oí the deity, thao in governing the rational aod V'irtuous of
I out" own species. These two particulars are evidcntly clistinct. 'Tis
one thing to know virtue, and anOlher to conCorm the win to it.
In order, tbel'efore, to prove, that the measures oC right aod wrong
are eternal laws, obll"gatory on evel)' ralional mind, 'tis not
suffic:ient to shew the relations upon which the)' are fonnded: 'Ve
must also ])oint out the conuenon bet";.xt the relation and the
will; and must prove that thi3 connexion is so necessaJ)', tIJat io
eyery well-disposed mind, it musl take place and have its influ-
ence; 1ho' the difference betwixt these minds be in otber respects
irnmense ana infinite. Now besides wllélt 1 have already pl'ov'd,
that even in human nature no relation can evel' nlone produce any_
action; besides this, 1 say, it has been shewl1, in trealing of the
understanding, tIJat there is no connexian of cause aod effect, sl1ch
as this is SUllPOS'd to be, which is discoverable otherwise thao by
expel'ience, and oí which we can pretend to have aDY security by
the simple considcration oí the objects. AH beings in the universe,
consider'd in lhemselvcs, appear entirely loose alld inde))endent of
esch other. 'Tis ooly by e~l)erience we learn their influence and
connexioD; and this influence we ought never to extend beyond
experience.
Thus it will be impossible lo fulfU the (ir'1 condilion rec;¡uired_
~~stem oI eternal rational D1easure~ .Q!_right and...J..U.:..o...Qg·
beca\;!se it i§.. im ~e to shew those rel~~1..-!lP-0n wh~...c h 2
_djstinction may..!JLfu!!g~: And 'tis as impossible to f"l[jl the
second condilionj because we canDot prove a priori, lhat these
relations, if they reall)' existed and \Vere perceiv'd, would be
(
( 212 Hume's Law, Hume's TVay
( universally forcible and obligatory.
( ( Trealise, pp. 465-6)
The general directiou of the passage is to point out that there is a
distinction betweell the relati.on Di ri htness sud the I.!!9!:!vation lo acto
( A psychologieal motive is taken to be the same as a ph)"sical motive: a
push! pull wllich forces us lo move in a certaiu way. Tbis is Hume's
standard pSJ'chological mechanism, and is ",hat he means when he
( subtitles the Treatise 'An atlempt to Introduce the Experimental [i.e.
( NewtouianJ lnethod oC Reasoning into 1\101-al Subjects'. The passage
then becomes a challenge to the Rationolists in tenus of Books 1 and IJ
( oC the Treatise. E'\""en ir \Ye cauld see rightness a prion' by means of
J certain relatiol1s, this does Dot lUean we should be moved lo do right
(
l aets (cí. I3k. 1J, esp. fu, 5)' And in fael we cannal kuow a priori that we
should be so Uloved~ for tbis is a causal relationship, aud \ye can know
( nothing abollt camal relationshi!,s a priori (Bk. 1). So Lhe Ratiooalist
has come up against another insoluble·pl'obleDl J aud lhis eveu aíter we
ha\'e granted him ,""hat he can not sho\V (problem A), that there is a
way in which vice and virtue can be based on relations.
The point that e,er}'oue has overlooked is that \vheu Hume uses-
aud italicizes-the word 'obligatoryJ. he is talking about lhis New-
( tonian kind of moti.-aLioll. This is a common wny of using the words
'obligatory' amI 'obligation' (aud lought') in the moral writings of that
pare oC the eighteenth centmT- Thlls Berkeley in Alciphro/l ( '752) says
that previous moralists of whom he approyes 'took great paius to
strengthen the obligation to virtue' (Bk. 1, secl. 15), and Hutcheson
defines 'obli ation J as la motivatioLl . , , sufficient to determine, .. a
(
certain course of actioIl' (An InquiTy concerlllizg Moral Good and Euil,
( 1 725-;Bkv 1 r, sect 1 ).' 1'0 speak of somethiog as obligatory, theo, is to
~ sa)" tltat there 15 some Jnotive for doing itJ S0l1.1e ps)'ehologiealllleehan-
ism wllich provides the force for it to move uso
Hume begins the passage by saying that the efTects of lhese relations
(of rightuess:, ele.) are supposed to be uecessarily the salne J aud he
italicizes 'effeets'. That is, they must move aU rational creatures to act;
l this is the whole point oC lnoraI judgments. Then come the key sell-
~ tenees: "Tis ooe thing to know ,'irtue J aud another to conform tite will
to it. In order, tlterefore, to prove lhat the measures of right aud wrong
are eteruallaws J obligatory on every ralionaIlnind) 'tis not sufficiellt to
sho\\' the reJations upon which tlley are founded: 'Ve must also point
10ut the connexion betwixt the relation and the will. J '~e have aIready
l seen how Hume uses one part oí lhis as a challenge to tile Rationalist lo
<.. show how morality beeomes obligatorYJ how it acqui.res the force by
which it moves us to acto Hume can aJls\Ver the challenge io terms of a
l he goes 00 to say:
push! pnll which can ooly be a passion (reason being powerless in this
(
EUGENE SAPADIN 21 5
respect-lI, iü, 5), so that men end up beillg prinz:;z facie J though .u~t
uecessarily Gnally, moved lo do what they are ob!Jged lo do. But lt lS
important that we keep in mind the other part oI what RUIne is saying
here as well: that there is therefore a distinction between 'right aud
wrong' on one haud aud 'obligation' on the other. lt .is hard fol'. us ~o
accept this becaus~'e tend to identify a right Bet wlth On~-l'VhIc~ 15
obli atar erha s b definition. But in Hume's sense J where obhga-
tíon includes motivation, it is always possible to ask 'Why ought 1 (\Vhy
aro 1 obli17ed to) do what's right?', and the answer has to be somcthing
that mov:s uso For Hume, a first-person moral judgment is promoted
by a passion, which creates a prima facie motivatiou in f8.ct J uot rne~'ely
in principie. Benee it is theoretically possible fOI" sometlllng to be nght
but BOlobligatory, aud Hume is careful to keep these terms disnnc.t. In
fact if the Rationalists are riO"ht aboul moralit}' being a malterof relallons J
El •. I
J
then right and obligation would be separate in fact as well as in pnl1Clp e J
unless they eanshow how 'these relations [oC rightness, etc. ], if they really
existed and \vere perceiv'd, \vould be universall}' forcible andobligatory'.
Hume then goes 00 to 'make these general renectiOl~s more .clear a.ud
conviocing J (Trealise, p, 466) by illustrating them wlth partIcular ~n­
stances. These are the arguments that are meant to prove that_morahty
i can 110t be based 00 relaLions) hy shm·vin ..!~non-I!..~;;l.D objccls are
! ca able of enteringjnto-"lLrlteJelations thaJ...b.!!!..na!1~;.arLCi!}lable of.
'Ihis is no expansion oC Hume's chaUenge A to the RatlOoalists. ~nd II
seems tltat nothing more gets said about challenge B) as set out 111 the
loo u pnragraph 1 qlloted. .
Tlüs would leave Hume's argument incol11plete, aud ",ouId be odd
in another \'Vay, since it is just after stating B that he says he intellds to
make these reflections more clear. And it turns out that n is not dropped
completely aIter ali, Hume has pointed out a distinction bet\V~en
making any kind of jlldgment-even a moral judgment-nml o~uug
on it and has asked how it is that \Ve are moved to BCt by these Judg-
l11eD~. He does fiol say thal it can not be done; he says that no relation
alone can do it. Nor does he say thnt \Ve could not kno\\' oí such a
I'elation, but ooly that \Ve can110t kno,," of it othel'wise tlu1I1 by ex-
perieoce. The Rationalists J he says) cannot .cope ",itlt tl?is. I3ut 11 ume
can J and does) allhough the placement oC lus ausW"~r-lll a p81·agrap.h
abont reasoo not discovering any matter oC faet wl11ch can be lh~ basIs
of morality-makes it seerll. that he is still talking about A. For 111 tlle
last seotence oí the penultimate paragraph of the sectiol1 J just after
saying that 'when Jau pronounce auy acliou ... viciousJ )'OU l~lean .. ','
you have a feeli.llg or sentiment of blanle from the contemplntLOu of 1t ,
{
Notlling can be more real, 01' concern us more J than our owu
(
(
J-Iumc's Law, Hume's JI/ay
(
sentiments oC pleasure and uueasincss; and ir these be favourable
lO vil"lue, and llllfavourable lo vice, no lUore can be requisite to
lIJe regulation of Ollr conducl and behaYioul".
( (Trealise, p. 4-69)
Tilat is JI llme'~ answer lú the challcnge n, which he expanus else-
( wlieJ'e. !\o judgmenlS Ileccssal'il y lllOYC LIS lO actien. J udgmcl1Ls of pure
( rensan can neve}' do 50. But moral judgmcnts are nal IrelatiollS alone' j
they are connecteu wilh OHl' feelings of pleasure and paio, which ciD
(
\ move us. This is hol'" the 'obligation' come::> inlo morality. If virtuc is
(a name fol') pleasurable sen:;atiúll, we simply will be moved lO do
virlllolls acts-al Icasl, those that \Ve Durselves judge to be virtuDus.
(The 'can' in '(\othing can be 1110re real, 01' COllcern us 1110re .. .' must J
( 1 take it, be a maller-of-faet 'can' fol' Hume, 1l0t 8 logical 'can'. Thnt's
( the way human nalttre i5; it ha5 nOlhing lo do willt a POillt of logic.
I
1Indeed, Hume':; whole point is lO :;:;ay that nOlhing aboul human nature
( can he 5ellled by pure logic; it lJlu~l be 5tudied cxperimentally.)
( 'Ve can now relurn to the Hume's Law passage, which we left sorne
time ago, hut there is still one genera] paiot lo keep in mind, On a
broad view of the Trcatisc J iL seems Lhat 1-1 ume was more concerned
with explaining \Vhy \Ye have cerlain mental phenomena lhan he was
in providing ju~tifications fol' our haYing them. Given this, it ma)' be
lhal, in saying thallhe suddel] aep~an~~ of ~n loughl' in any s),stem
of Dlorality rpust be 'ohserved and explained' 8nd lhat (a reason shouId
( ~ ~~!!' !~w ~~i~ 'ouglrt J suddenly-rñaKes its appearance amidst a
series oC factual pl'oposilions, Hume means llot that ""e mus1;justí1y the
( jUnlp from (is' to loug 1t', but that we must recognize thal the 'uro
( does ha]l]llln and ex ,¡nin how it hnppens.
As lO the Hunle's Law passage its'e1f, íls inlerpl'elation now becomes
\ simple. l-llllne's statcmclIl of Hwne's Lmu has lo do with oblt'gatl'oll-fllld-
í mott'vaúoll Úl the scnsc we have dúcllssed, alld llolwith rlght (01" vallle).
He has just finished earefully dislinguishing judgments of right from
judgl"nenls of obligation, and no\Yhere in the Hume's Law passage does
i he soy anything abanl judgrnent:s of right, The 'oughl' staternents he
does lalk about herc are just the judgments of obligation which he has
di51inguished frorn any staternent of faet lhat could not by itseU move
us, Once again, from the passage containing D: I -
( These two particulars are eviclently distinct. 'Tis one lhing to know
virtue, and another to confonn the will to il. In order, therefol'e,
( LO prove) 1hat lhe meaSLU'es of right and Wl'ong are, .. obligatol"Y
( on every rational mind) 'lis 110l sufficient to shew the reIations
upon which they are faunded: '¡Ye must aIso point out the con-
(
nenon betwixl the relaLion and the will , ..
(Hume's italics)
EUGE:\'E SAPADIN
The lis' stalements which [be Hume's Law passage sa}s are nol enough
to let us deduce these 'oughb' can inciude value judgments-righl i3
...:. not the same as obligalory, although for moralüy to make sense judg-
meins of right have somehow lo be ouligatol'Yl lhal is, to be motiva-
ting. The passage says nothing auont not being able lo derive yalue
judgments from factual premises. lt sa)'s lhal therc is nothing thal ]mre
rea50n can do LO get us from any li:5' statemenls, including lis' slate-
menls of va]ue CCx 15 good" :.1: is right', :.1: i:5 worthwhile'), lo any
'oughl' stntements, which, in lhe fir~t per50n alleast, influence the wilI.
It is this innuencing the wiU thal is the lne", relntion 01' affinnation'
that Hume says needs observing and explaining, and it is what he ha5
been saying aH along \\;th regard to obligation, 01' (ought5'. There is
nothing in the Ilume's Law passage abol1t a lquanlwn jump' iota
talking about right and \\Tong J which he has carefully di5tinguished
from obligator)"; there is notrung in the passage aboul right and wrong
at aH. R.eading thE! central part of the passage, then:
... of a sudden 1 am surpriz'd lo find, thal illstead of lhe usual
copulations of propositions, ú, and Ú llOt, 1 meet with no proposi-
tion that is nol coonected with an ollght, 01' al] ought noto This
change is imperceptible; but is, however, of the last consequence.
For as lhis ollghl, 01' otlght 1l0t, expresses sorne ne", relalion or
affi1'malion, 'tis neees5ary that it shol1Id be observ'd ond e:\..p lain'd j
and at the same time thal a 1'ea50n should be given, for ",hat seem5
altogether inconceivable, how this new relation can be a deduclion
from othersJ which are entirel)' different from ie'
( Treatise, p. 469)
The 'new relation' is lhat oC influencingJhe wi1k ond this can not be a
dedüétion 'fl'Om others that are dif(el'ent~ il, so the Rationalist
loses, Bul Hume has observed the ne", relation and has eA1Jlained bo"
1 it can come froro these l'elations plus the pa55ions, in an absolutel),
standard Hmnean \Ya)', '"ice alld vi~,tue !>y lhemselvesJ like colours, , /
are ~reeptions in the mind', which makes lhem »assions, The new / \
relation of obligation, of motivating foree J comes from an impl'ession of
reflection, in this case pleasure 01' uneasiness, And no more can be re-
quisite to the regulalion of om' eonduC1. 3
This ends the argurnent for this inlerprelation fram contento From
conlext, lhe Hume's Law passage comes juSl two pages after he has
crilicized the Rationalists for not seeing that reason, evell ir it appre-
heI!d~ !!. relalion which makes scts right¡ can not make acts obli~t(nL
Hume says that he wilI give considerations for this and sho\V tbat
reason alone can llot diSC9yer ¡he l'elalians whicb make acl;> rig:1lLV.),
He does the latter iD lhe intervening pages, Re shows that he can
answer the question of the relation between value judgmenLS and
(
( [-lume's Law, Hume's Way
( action (B), in the last sentence of the penultimate paragraph ('Nothing
( can coneero us more, than out' own sentiments of pleasure aud Ull-
easiuess ... no more can be requisite lo tlle regulation oí OUT conduct
aud behaviour.') \iVhat we do ool yet have is anything making point
( B against the Rationalist 'more clear and conviocing'. And the very
next sentence begins the Hume's Law })Qssage, which is lo be taken as
saying more spacifically tbat the Rationalists, ignoring~le passion~
( canDot ans\Ver tile question.
(
It is also significant that the passage ends with tite statement that
attention lo this point ,""ouId llet llS see, tbat the distinction of vice and
1virtue is Dol founded merely on the relations oC objects, nor is per-
( ceiv'd by reason.' This is tb ejl\J!w;¡U[¡lIl:Jl<:JU:!,¡utveq.one.leave5.-out..
1 ~n uotinE-thepssage aad itE-!he oue that shows that tbC-llasS8a
( is stilLa_llP:rt oí Hume's general anti-Rationalist l!r~ent. Vice and
( virtue are not founded on relations of objacts (A); if lhey lVere founded
on reason, this wouId not expIain ho\V ther force us lo act (B). (He does
(
110t say that this proves that they are not founded on reason because B
is not a pracf at all, but merel)' a challenge to the Rationalist, which we
see that he can oot meet.) So the passage, which concludes Section 1,
ends witll a statement showing tl1at it is an integral part oí Hume':;.
argU111ent througllOut the sectiol1.
A further consideration in favour of this rcading comes from the
Enquiry concerning lhe PrincipIes o/ Jll'ioral.s. Tbel"e js potbiug...i.u...tJ.Ie
( Enquiry reselnbling 111e Hume's Law )ª-~s_age. :Kar is there an)' chal-
( lenge to the Ratiollalists to show how value judgments lead us to acL
The anti-Rationalist argumenls, in Section 1 and Appendix [, are aH
( 'Self presen'ntion obligetl lhe people to these se\"erities'. AmI nole on the
aitned at shmnng that rcason alone can not make moral distinclions (A).
( There is nothing saying that evcn if it could do this it could Dot make us
sel (8); aud there is no (supporting) statement oí Hume'sLa\\".
l This interpretation oí the passage, oI com·sc, sa"e's Hume's con-
sistency. For there is nothing nTong ",;th del'iving fin 'ought' from an
lis' ín a \,"ar dependent on human nature, snd thell saying that the
Rationalist can Ilot do it by reaSDll alone. In this ",ay we can even
pIacnte tllose who insist that rdeduce' means deduce, not infer by
taking ldeduce' to mean just thal, since lile Rationalist is going lo have
to deduce t1Jis De\y relation-being obligatorr, that is, being motiva-
ting-i:rom others that are entirely differellt from it, even if one oC
those others happens to be a retation ofvirtue.
W11ere does all tms leave Hume in respect of CWTent cOlltroversy
1over factual statemel1ts amI nOl"lllntive ones? 'Vell, nDwhere-at Ieast
as far as the Hu.me's Law passage is concerned_ Gi\""en the right/ value-
vs-obligation/ motivation illterpretation of his distiuction between 'is'
aud (ought', the passage has nothing to say on tbe question of defining
EUGENE SAPADIN
luora! terms; for Hume is allowing that we may k.now what is right, Ol"
what 'right' is (although this is the provillce of Grammarialls, Dot
PhiJosophers), may know this fronl merely factual considerations, aud
theo, odd1y enough to the modero moral ear, saring that this know-
Jedge still is not shown lo be obligatory, lhal knowing this will I\ot
llecessarilr move uso That is, he interprets the jlldgmeut of right as a11
1lis' statement ('x is right') {rom which an 'oug~lt', which inclu~es a
motivation to aet, cannot foHow-uot at least lf \Ve try to do lt by
I pm-e reason. And tbis is 110t at aH connected with the CLUTent meta-
ethical dispute.
So Hume's Law, I-/ume's 'way, stands firmly in tbe eighteenth cen-
tw·y, Dot the twentieth. Reading it as a part of his argument against
the Rationalists, with specific regarcl to the moti ,'ating force of 'ollghts',
both makes Hllme's posilion consistent and gives his argument a sYln-
metrical finish. Sorne other reading of the passage might still be I"ighl;
hut then, that piece of coal might stiU not be bm·ning.
1. In alI}- scnse oC 'basis' (or, as 1[mne oflen puts it, 'foumlation' or 'origin'),
whether logical or causal or psychoJogical. The se,-enteenlh and eighteenth
centuries were undenr on this, jusl as the)' were on whether 'morals'
meant 'llIoral systcms' or 'Illoral juugments'. For lhe purposes of this
papel- 1 will contrllue lo use the word in the general way that Hume
Hseu it.
As Jale as 1,85 we finu lIJe same use in Paley: ':\ lllal1 i!: ohliged ",hcn he
•• is urueu by a nolent tlIotiyC .. " (P,.illciplcs 01 J110raL nlld PoliticaL
Philo~apllT' ch_ 2). See also Dcfoe JourllaL o/ the Plagut! YCflr (1725):
Berkeley quotc that ir 'obligatioll' here "'ere to mean !:omething otlJe!"
lIJan 'moti"aling force', then he wOllld be spenking of strengthening lile
moral tie lo being moral.
3· To forestallthc possiblc objeclion that 'ought' allCI'obligalory' are sepnl:nLe
\\"ords: in lhe 18lh cenlury, they gellcl'ally are BOt so. Thtls Pnce,
responding specifically lo HUllle's challenge n: 'it is not imlecd plaillCl'1
lllat fju\lre illlplies sOJllething rigtlretl ... tllan il is that righlllcss illlplies
oughll::CSS (if 1 may he allowed lhis won1) 01" oblignloril/C'ss.' (A ItCL'it'u..' o/
lhe PrillcipflL QlIt!sliuIIS in l\foraLs, 1158, ch. \"1.) But lhe wonl is allllost
nc'\er used---onh- three times each in lilc Tn·¡J/i5c ami Em/uiry, and no
entry in JohnsOl;'s Dictionary. 'übligalol"Y' is the word thal is met with
rcuularh-·
e . , Hume is usina o 'O\l1111l'
e as an aCli,'c "erb equi,·alenl.
{
(
( STEWART H.SUTHERLAND
(
Hume ami tlle Concept oJ Pieasllre
( follows 1 shall ool comment on those ]>leasures and paios which 14 ume
( J 11 U:\1 E' S philosophical wl"iting there is n number of puzzles abont
pleasllre. As 00 other topics, he writes al times in an infl1riatingly im-
( precise manner, aud from the texl of lite Trealise alone one ma)" 110-
earlh a yariet} of primafacie incompatible claims, nbont, 01' involving
plensllre. A standard response, on this and olher points in I-T ume 5cho1ar-
ship, i5 LO slress the cCal'clessness' of Hume's wl'iting, and to combine
( tlJis \\ illt ""hat has come Lo Le fol' many the accepted account of Hume
on vil'tllallye,-erylhing:.lL is a5sumed thaL, fol' Hume) pleasure and pain
(
are in the end private experienees of sorne sort (simple impressions),
( which are Ld~ltif~~d introspectivel)" and named ,vithout eS5ential
reference to aoy public criteria 01' form oí expressi~n_. Although Hume
does l11uch to encourage such a view of the nature of the passions snd oE
the moral sentiment5 there are, nonetheless, residual difficulties in it
that are of particular significance for Hume's aCCollnt of pleasure.
Granted the fundamental importance of thc concept of pleaslU'e fol'
lIume's moral theor), it 15 surprising that comparatively little aUen-
tion has been paid by his interpreters both to elucidating the signifi-
cance of the passages that do not [it the stnndard account) and indeed to
forrnl1lating a general account oI Hume on pleasure. This papel' ,,;Il
attempt to press the case for a rather fuller discussion of Hume on
pleasure tllan i5 normally offered.
That there i5 such a standard vievv oI Hume 011 the passions 81ld moral
sentiments should llot require much in the way oC substantiation, and 1
have already expounded and attacked the view elsewhere. 1 However, it
will be oC sorne value to attl'ibute its propagation lo specific sources, and,
in aduition to its exposition in Kenny and llroiles,2 it is sufficiently
widel}' established to be refel'red lO in passing in a variety of olherwüe
admirable works not concerned primarily wilh Hume, one of which
I shall quote by way ofillustl'atiou:
1 an nol saying that there are two sorts of objects, objects of sellse
and objecls of reasan, and tbat mm'der and vice belong to the
latter category. 1 am llot arguing over the inventory oE the uni-
verse. It was G.E. MooJ'e's solutioll in n similar predieament to
inerease the numbel' of objects in the universe by one, and then
call it 'good'. H ume's solution was to tUJ'1l somewhere else ('into
l.. his own breast') where he eould pcrceive or introspeet something,
l bee8use he thought that this was the SOl't of lhing k.non-Iedge wa5
01' ollght to he. 3
STEW.-\RT R.SUTIIERLAND
The limitatiolls oí such no account are easier lo establish tha11 lo inter-
pret. Tbe strategJ oí this papel' will be lo contesl lhe general thcsis as
applied lo pleasure l by arguing that in Hume's alleged moments oC
carelessness he is making substantial philosoph.ical poinls. In ",hat
c1assifies as badil), sensations:-4 ralher J lhe discussion win focus upan
those aspects oí his trealment of vleasure and pain that have the most
direct bearing on his aeeouat oí moral approyal.
Kemp Smith reminds us lhat Hume cloes 110l treaL the concepts oC
plenslll'e and pain s)'stemnticallj', bl1t 'onl)' very cUl'sorily, and onl}' in
their hearing on thi5 01' that special topic'.' Even 1hen , however, Itis
rel11arks seem to be ralher disparate, perhaps even ineon::;i:Hent. In
fairly general terms !Jume stresses tl!~ inti!nate il!VO~Y~llt bel\ t~en
pleasure and Eain 00 the one hand, and "irtlle and vice OIl the other.
(Moral distincti~n5" -he le1l5 tlS, 'depend entil'ely on certain p;clJia~
sentiments of pain and pleasul'e' (T 5í +). This is set in the conlexl of
the \Vider claim that )leasl~'e Ol" in ~~the chieI spljng o~ating_
Jrri1!~ip~ oI tbe huma~ mip<E. In such a context it does seem i11i-
tially to sllpport the first of the foul" obvious possible interpretations
oE 1he sense of the cdependence' oE moral distinctions upon 'certain
peculiar sentiments oE pleasllre and pain': these four iuterpretatiolls are,
(i) thaL the moral distinctiol1s are distinclions between different sorts
of feelings, appl'oval and disappronl, aud lhat lhese feeJiugs have
as efficient causes respectively,.pleaslu·e and pail);
(ii) t1lat the di5tinetions drawn between feelings of approval and dis-
approvalare distinctions between feelings of pleasure and pain;
(¡ji) tllal to draw moral distinctions is to have particular sorts of feel-
ings, and t11at one eriterion to he used in dcnominating them
feelings of moral appl'ova] alld disappl'oval is the presence 01'
absence of partü:ular sorts ofl)leasllre 01' paio;
(iv) lhat the objeet 01' eud uf moral aeLiou is lhe pursuit uf pleasw'e aud
the avoidanee of pain. This fourlh inlerpretation raises iS5ues
rather difl'erent froro the other thl'ee and 1 shall not con5ider it
furlher in this papero
Each of these interpretations can find 5ame support in the writings al
Hume, and each has been canvassed by one 01' other oI the Hume com-
meotators. Yet there 15 a prima facie implausibility in the expectation
al finding all or even sorne of them compatible. How, it might be asked,
can pleasure be both the cause oI a feeling of appl'Dval and a crileriolL
lhat helps us decide thal it is approval? O.. again, how eau it be eilher of
these, and also be the Ieeling of moral approval? Nly argument wiII be
that interpretations (i), (ii) snd (iii) can eaeh be stnted in a fashion
that renders them compatible with one anotller, and that a refusal to
( STEWAI\T It.SUTlfEItLAND
220 Hu.me and che COllCepl of Pleasure
(
( see this can be traced largely to the application of what I have called
the standard6 view of Hume to his concept of pleasure, that ~, to an
(
account oC Hume's concept of pleasw'e as au inner 'sensation ' recog-
nized by introspectioD, but oll1erwise clefying characterization. A
corollar)' of this is that the approach to I-Iume's accouot of pleasw'e_uia
(
Book 111 of the Trealise rather than uia Book I may weU result in estab-
r
TISiling a rather difrerent emphasis in interpretation.
( (i) In addition to the general comments already quoted from Book
111, other passages effer clear evidence tltat Hume was prepared to see
pleasure and pain 85 causes of tite moral sentirnents. In Trealise 11, i , 7,
in the course oí a discussion designed lo subSlanLiate the vie", t11.at pride
8ud humi1ity have dual roots in the manner described in his accaunt al'
(
ltbe double relalion of impressions aud ideas', Hume enlertains as one
( possible vie,,' of lhe relatian between virlue aud pleasw'e the Yiew tltat
ltlte pain and pleasure o, . [are] the primal)' causes of vice and virtue'
(T2g6). But he also makes the illlportant point that, as in the case of
pride aud humilitr, there are other causal faclors at work. A ftU·tlter
possibility envisaged in litis crucial passage is that 'the verr essence of
virtue, . , is to produce pleasure, sud lhat oí vice to give pain' oPleasure
mar 00 this ,~iew be the erfect oí virtueo
(ii) There are sevel·al pas~ages in which Hume seems to equate
sentiments oí vice aud virtue with pleasw'e aud pain, The mo::t uu-
ambiguoúS1s his passing COffiluent in Trealisc 11, m, 9 (T459),
( lbeside good sud evil, al" in otller worcls paill aud pleastU'e . . . ', but
( earlier in Book 11 he states explicilly, 'The uneasiness aud satisíaction
are llot only inseparable fl"ol11 vice and virtue, but con5titute lheir very
( nature aud essence' ( 1'296). In Boak 1r I n-e rind a similar identification:
\
ITa have tbe sense of virtue, is nothing but to fccl a satisfactiou of ti
particular kind fl'om the contemplation of a charactero The yerrfeclillg
constitutes our praise 01' admiralion' (T471). Tlle puzzle, here, of
resolving I-Iume's disparate suggesLions that pleasure can be a cause of
the moral sentiruents as well as lheil" eITect, ond also that it can in so me
(
sense be the sentiment oí virtue, requiJ'es that \Ye rell1.illd oursel ,~es that,
rOl" Hume, tllere ""ere lllall r differeut kinu oí pl!ll5-LU'eo
TIJe question of the discrimination between differellt sorts of pieasure
\\;11 be considered in due coursc. At this stage oC the argument, how-
eyer, the various hrpolheses offel"ed about the role of pleasure as cause,
effect and constituent part oC virlue are each compatible "ith the
'standard' view tltat pleasure is a private feeling identified by inu'o-
specLion. The grounds ror challenging lhis ,'¡ew wiU be offered Collow-
ing discussion oI the tbird inter})retatÍon oC the sense oI the 'dependence'
of moral distinctions upon 'cel"tain peculiar sentiments of pleasure aud
pain'o
_-1
22'
(iü) TlIe central textual support for Yiewing the presence of pleasme
as a criterion in moral evaluation is to be found in Book Ill: 'The
diSlillguishillg impressions, by which moral good or evil is known, are
nothing butparlicular pail1s 01' pleasures' (T471), T"yo points require
to be noticed: firstly, the stress on the word 'particular', and secondly,
I-lume's insistence, several selltences later in the same l)aragrapb, lhat
"Ve do not il1fer a character to be virtuous, because it pleases'. HUlue
is ~llot re-int;'~ducing reasoD (cfo (inCer') as the arbiter oí morality but
he does wish to avoiu sa)'ing what tite lstandard' víew seelllS to impute
to him, namel)', that moral approval is a simplc scntiment of pleasure
",hich, when experience<1, is immedialel)' knowll, Such a view ignorE:'s
the variel)' to which Hume testifies in tite section quoted aboye,
lo . o'tis e,rident, that unde¡' the terro pleaslI.re, we cornprehcnd sensa-
tions, which are very different Irom e8ch other, and which have oul)'
such a distant resemblaoce, as is rcquisite to make them be ex¡n'css'd
by the same abstraet tenn.' (T472 F
'The varietr of pains and pleasul"cs shoulcl, and does, pose a problelTI
for Hume, the problem of how we may discrllninate betweeo different
plcaslll'es ancl bctween difTerent pains. Significanlly, Hume cloes 1l0t
at añ)r pOlnt sllggest that it is a sim pie maller oC iutrospecLÍvc discrimi na-
tion as Kovcsi and numerous olhers have implied. It should be empha-
sized, howevel', that lhe appea! to crileria is not Lo seUle what ought lO
be moraU)' approyed, but is to settle when ,ye are 11aving ti le lparticular'
sentiment which is moral approvnl.
i\Iy p!"Oposal for reconciling interpretations (i), (ii) and (iii) is this.
rhere is a causal 5tory to be toId about the 8rol15al of moral approvol.
One oC lhe causal conditioDS, and perhaps, though oot necessarily, tIte
efricienl cause, is the presence of plensure. This pleasure 15 110t, of itself1
howcvcr, moral appl"oval. lt may be undifferel1tiated pleasure, or it
mo)', in sorne cases, be the pleasure involved in liking SOlneone 01' some
sta te oí affairso In the former case, moral approv<l} presupposes that this
undHferentiated pleasure becomcs more speciric-a lparticular'
pleaSll1"eo In the laller case, l\Yo presuppositions make possible tite
Lrans[ormation of liking iuto approval: (1) Hume's theor)' of associa-
lion, and (2) his view that tite many different trpes of pleasllre do, in
their yariety, rcsemble olle anothel". Tltat tltere is sllch a l1reci~e diJTer-
ence between liki.llg ami aj1prodng is important fOl" HUlllC'S moral
theor)", and Hume indicates as much in his clear characterization of tite
dislinction:
Nor is everr senlimenl oC pleasure or IJa..in, which arises [rom
characters and actions, oí that peculiar kind, which makes us
iI praise or condemn. Tite goocl qualities oí an enemy are ItUl'lful lo
,uso but ma\" still command our esteem aud res¡>eCt. ( T47~)
-
I
I
(
Z22 j/ume n/u/lile COIlCepl of Pleaslt're
(
( It is only the pleasltl'e lhnt 'makl?:; 115 ]ll'ilise' is tliat bOlh part of moral
OPpl"ovul noJ i5 a critcr/olt of wlll"tiler 01' 1101 whal we fcel 1S 1I10ral
(
opproYDI .
r .:\5 \Ve see tlten¡ ll\lme can alTer a eDil:)..1 accomU of lhe role of plea-
5Ul"C in moral approvnlthol is COlllpatible wilh 1he nppC'al lO pleaSlll'e as
(
a crilCI'ioll, but that dOP$ nol pre-:1-lIppo:.:e tllm pleasl1re 15 tO be treoled
( ns a privllle sensntion anülahle onl.'" lo intro:.:pection. Int1ee..l¡ (tUile 1he
( rCyeTSe i5 lrtlc since llume denb "illl the que:ilion oí the discrimina-
1ion hetween pleasures wi1hol1t 1llC'1l1 ioning introspection.
In Book 111 Hume eonfronts explicitly afear 1118t i:.: hound lo arise
concerning any lluempt lO give í1 causal nccounl of moral approval 1ha1
traces the lalter back to particular senliment~; 5uch an account seems
( meuts, and therehy both are easily accommodated 011 the 'impressions)
to imply a contingenl relalion between mornl approval anJ its objects.
( Now it mil)' ... be objecteu to 1he presenl S) stem, Ihat ifvirlue and
vice be delermin'd by pleasl1re ami pain, these qnalities lllust J in
ever} case) arise fl"om the sensationsj and consequenlly any
object, ",hether .animale, 01" inanimate, racional 01' irrational,
might become morally good 01' evil provided it can excite a
salisfaction 01' uneasiness. ( T4-71)
lIume)s solution to the problel'n is 10 specif)' three conditions that are
necessary for the COI'l'cct appliemion oC lhe ter m 'moral approval' to the
sentimenl in f],uestion:
(i) th81 the sentimenl in CJuestion is pleasl1rable rather lhan pain-
ClIl;
(ü) lllat the objecL oC our sentiment is a persol1;8
(ii.i) that the pleasure is one which could be Ielt by a disintereSled
( person eontemplating the same situation.
Ipsofacto these eonditiolls specify lhe 'particular pleasnre' in question:
~ it is one that has as its object a person j and it is olle Lhat is hod b)' o
( person whose relation lo llte situnlion in question is Olle of disinterested-
(
ness. These eonditiollS speeify criterio, nol discoverable tbrough intro-
spectioll, for determining whether lhe pleasure in question is lhe
pleasure of moral approva1. They sho"" inter a/ia, thaL Hume was
wOlTied by lhe epistemological q uestíon oI how we ma)" know "vhich
(
sentiments are being experienced, and tbat ipso Jacto in working out
( Paul ) 963) and R. D. Breiles The M01'al PhiloJophy o/ Dal:id lb/me
his moral theo1"Y he rejected an)' tendene)' in Books 1 and II of the
<.. Treatúe thot would answel' this question in terms oI the immediacy of
introspection.
( as' T'plus page number, e.g. IT 192'.
Undoubtedly) there were iuOuences aL work in the composition of
( Book 1 JI of lhe Treatise tltat might lead Hume to 1'egard l)]easu1'e as a
( private aud introspectable experience. His inheritance oI Locke's 'way
of ideas' aod his modified version oC it in Book 1 bOlh point strongly in
( this direction. That he saw in general, but limited, terms lbe in-
STEW."'RT R.SUTHERL.o\ND
adequacy of Locke's terminology and theo1")' is elear frol11 his [oolnote
explicil]y correcting Locke's use oí lhe term 'idea' ( T2).
Blll heyond this his treatment of philosophical qllC:Jl:iom:, as ",eH as
J
his sensitivity to the human experienees that gave them form, stretehed
lO breaking point tbis pal·ticular philosophical tradition. H 11l11e 8t-
tempted lo clea} ,,;th these ruptures in his develo)Jment oI a lscience oí
man', hut what nerer secmed clear lo him; as it became clE:'ar to Kallt) ../
'~·as the need to jettison t he terminology, and the conceptual implica-
llons, of the whole 'wa)" oC ideas'. :\t points, howeyer-and his treal-
menl of pleasure in the conteJl.'t of his moraltheory is one oC them-
H mue did step be)"ond 'the ",ay oí idea:;'. ~ ~
-Certainly plE:'asure and moral approval are hoth elassified as senti-
side of the impression-ideas divisioll, but both, as we have seen L are
individu!ted in a fashion quite independ~nt .2f Er~eªllre~ derivable
fro~l1 'tbe way of ideas). Certainly also, far Hume, pleasure is an experi-
enee, and thereb)" episodic, but equally certain1y ",hat makes 8 pleasure
the particular pleasure indicative oC moral approyal has to do not ","'¡lh
some fine inner quality Ol" timbre oC the e>...p erience, but rather with the
object of the e:\l)erience, and also ,,;th lhe belieIs whjch are at least
partI)' constitutiye of it: heliefs J t118t is, about one's real or s)"mpathelic-
a11y imagined relationship to lhe person who is lhe object oí the
approval.
"'hether or nol olle accepts these "iews it c[lnnot be displlted that
the)' involve snbstantial philosophical c1aims. The)" were aIso, as far as
Hume was cOllcerned, .~xprcssions of general trlllhs ahout human
bcings: \Vhether c:laims of ti conceptual 01' aD empirical nature, they
certainl)' cannot be regarded, as the 'standard' "jen' seems to im])l)', as
minar inconsistencies oC no great significance for the interpretation of
Hume on p]easure, Ol" indeed on othe!" nspects oC experience.
). IHume an i\Iarality and the Emotions' Fhilosophical Qua1"lerl)" (Janunry
I~~ .
2. cL A. Kenllr --1clioll, Emotion aud If/ill (London: Rout1edge and Kegan
(The Hagne: ~ijhoff 196.~).
3· J. Kovesi ~)Ioral Notions (Landan: ROlltledge ancl Kegan Paul )967) p. 19.
4· cL Treah.se, p. )9~· AlI other quotalions fram the Tr~atise wil} he Doled
5· cL T}¡e Philosophy of David Hume (London: I\lacmillan & Co. )g,:p)
p. )62.
6. 1 apolagise for this barbarou$ shonhand. ::'\Iy llape is thal tJle view in
que~tian is sufficiently common to be recogni2.ed even under this con-
tenlJous Dame.
( 2.24 Hume and the Concept of Pleasure
(
7· From the COlllext it 1S clear that the word 'sensations' 15 here used in a
( much wider sense tIJan the earlier c!assification oC sorne pains and
pleasures as 'iOlpressions con'l'"eyed by the senses' (T 19Z).
( 8. Since this aspect oC Hume's moral theory has had less attention than it
deserl'"es 1 quote the fol1o\\"ing
(
'Now viüue and vice are attended with these circumstances. !, Otha papas presented al the Conference
(
(
They must IIccessa/-ilx be plac'd either in oursell,:es 0'- olhers . ..' (T 473)'
¡ A Dilemroa in Hunle's ACCOllJlt of Force alld ViV3City
Robert F. Anderson, University o/ Nebraska
1

(
f A Short Note on the so-called 'Probabilisln' of Hume as refiected in
( the so-called 'Analytical Index' of Selby-lligge
I, Oruc Arlloba, I-Iacellepe Universily
(
! HU111e ' S Conception of Bope al1d Fear
I
(
Sidney Axi1Ill, Telllple Ulável'sily
( Hume's Theory DI Justice in tite Trealise and Oflhe Original Conlracl
(
Llll.gi Bagolini, Unú;crsú:y of Bologna
Causality without Association in Hume
( Lewis W. Beck, University 01 Rochesler
( CustOI11, Cause and Cohesion in Hume
( Chrislopher J. BerrYI Unú;erslty 01 Glasgow
Hume on Self-Identity and Memory
Jo/m l. Biro, UniVel"sily of Oklahoma
( Bod)' Ex-Humed
( _Rr5iÚzld J. BUller, Univcrsit)' of J(enl
. / S e l f .nd Substance in Hume's Ontology
<. . Nicholas Capaldi, City Universit)' of New York
( ~ Dayid Hume's Leviat1Jan
t Jo/m R. Carnes, University of Colorado
Hume's Sceptieism
(
I-loughlOIl B. Dalr)"mplc, University of Texas
( Hume on Virtlles and Natural Abilities
lV. J. H. Dcnl, Universit)~ of York
l
Hume on 15 amI Ought
(
Tf7.D.Falk, Universily o/l\-orth Carolina
( In Defence of David Hume
Ronald J. Glossop, SoulllCrll I1lÚlOis Universüy
<-
Hume's NominaEsI11 Reconsidered
l Donald GOllerbarll, Universitx o/ SOlll/tern California
( Hume's Idea DI Necessar)' COllnexion
l O. ¡-lalif!ing, lhe Open University
HUllle's Labyrinth
\. fV. Dean Hazeltoll, n-'healon College
\.
l
l
_Ji
( -r
( Otller COllferCllce Fnpers Otller COliferellce Papers
(
Nraral Attitudes in Hume's Trcalise Hume's AUack on Abstract Ideas
( Tlzomas K. J-Iearll Jr, Ulliuersúy of Alabfl11la Gerald Visian, Temple University
( Illlme 011 Belief Determinism and an Open Future
Alichael Hodges amI Jolm Laclts, J/anderbilt Universit.y Charles G. ",Terner, Ullú1ersity 0/1\1iarlli
(
Virluous I\Jotive~ in lhe Trealisc Some Humean Distinetions Reconsidered
( VinCClll f\f. ¡-Jope, UlIú'ersity 01 Edinburgh [mz R.1J7l'/sOIl, Ulliversi(y o/ Stir/ing
( ]u S.rmpathy "'¡lh Hume Hume's View oC IIs-Ought'
Jolm 10r"5, Pictoria Unú:ersity o/IYellillgtoll D. C. Yaldcll- ThomsOll, Ulliversily of Virginia
(
Hume's ITrne' Sceplicism
( Oliuer A. Johnson, Uniuersity o/ California
( llllme's Coneeption of K.nowledge and of Pllilosophy
Peler Iones, Ulliversity 01 Edillburgh
(
Hume's llistorical Empiricism
{ Dona/el IV LÚ,'ÚlgstOIl, lVortherll Ill.inois University
( Ts Hume a Meta-Ethical :\on-Cognitivist?
Robert J. NlcShea) Bastan Ulliversily
Hume, \'Vhile1tea-d and Philosophic Method
Kell11elh R.l\lJerrill, UnlL'ersity of Oklahoma
H nme and Peirce on Habit
David L.l'vliller, Unú:crsity o/ Texas
On Hume's Doctrine of Simple Resemhlance
Jerome ¡Veu, Uláversity 01 Caliform'a
l Facts, Values and the Artificial
Ei/eel! O'Keefe, PO/J'teehllie of Nortlt Londoll
(
1 rume on the Functioll of Trngedy
l Margarel M. Paton, Ulliversity of Ediuburgh
lJume's Problem abolIt the Self
Rolallc[ Pucceui, Dalhou.sie Ulliversity
~
R.efleetioll, Renexion and Introspeetion
( J. Douglas Rabb l Lakeheacl Um"versity
l. Time, Space and Impressions
Bernard E. Rollin, Colorado Slale Ulliversity
(
On Hume's Is--Ought thesis
l David C. Slove, Ulliversity of Sidney
The Critique of Causality in Malebranche aud Hume
Jean Theall, University of Ottawa
The Articulate Voiee and God
Stanley Twcyman, York University, Ontario
---------
Hume and Inductive Rationality
Bernl Vestre, University of OsIo
( I~
abbreviations, ,"iii
abstnLctioo, 75-4, 165-4-
( AddisOll, J., 119, 122
agnosticism, 19, 22n58, 105, 108
(
Alstoll, '''., 61
analogy, 9, ID, 11, 18, 56, 112
(
animism,52
( lluthropolog)", 159-4-+
nnti.rationnlisln, Gennan
( J-lamann's, 95, 97-100, 101--8, 115
innuence oC, 115-14-
( Jacobi's, lD9-1Z
risc oC, 95-6
( use oC Hume, 95, 96, 101-15
a priori.
( bcing oC Goú, ·l--5, 8, 9, 18
discrcditing oC, 102, 104, UZ, 115,
( 211, 212
new, 70-1, 74-
( AquinllS, 5t Thomas, 78
AristoLle, 8, 70, 207
( artificial \"irtue
concept or, 51-2, 195
con~ention and, 51-2, 59-67
ori~in of, 59-61
(
utility oC, 2", 6i, 65
nlue oC, 51-2
associalion
laws oí, 125, 139
oC ideas, 27, 122, 194, 196, 198
oC term and objeet, 56
( Flew, A., 52-+, 185
astTol1omy, 25-6, 28, 51, 56, 70
alheisTll, 1+,221158,96,100,107, 112,
(
115, 128, 129, 150, 152
Augusline, St, H, 78
\ 100
( Bacon, F., 71, 97,117, 120-1
Bayle, P., 125, 195, 198, 199
( B~attie, J., 25, N, 25, 105
belieC
nnatollli'l.ing Rct of, 81-5
nnti-rnlionalist theory of, 97, 101-2,
( 109-10
as cogitati\-e acl. SO. 83, 85, 87
l as sensiti\'e act, SO, 85, 101, 102, 117
as \-h-id pereepliol1, 81-6, 91, 102-5
l decision ami, ii, 78, 79-80, 90-1
ethics of, í7-91
Hume', aerount of, 25, 77-91, 102-5,
10+, 105, 110, 125
ideas n.nnexed lo, 79-80, 8+
l in animals, 86-7
Locke on, 77, 79, 81-2
\ mechanical theor)", 81, 83, 87
prejudice, 83-+, 9+, 103
probabilily and nssurance, 82-6, 105
proportioning, 80, 81, 87-8, 90
(
l
l
INDEX
seuses and, 82, 84, 101
testimony and, 80, 88-90, 106
bene\"olence, 188, 190-5, 196, 199
BenneLt, J., 55-4
Berkeley, G., 2, 5, 53, 4+, 97, 117,
1+0,175,212
Bos\\-cli, J., 2, 15-16,210
Brentano, P., 72-5, 76
Burke, E., 42, 50, 92-
Bunle}', FaullY, 25-+
Butler, J., 8, 9, 12, ""7
CllItesinn philosoph)', 70, it, 72·, 75,
97, tOl, 10+, 112~ 175, 179
cnusality
as ncccssnry truth, 146-7, 148, 151
as ultilllute truLh, H7-9, 150, 152-5
existence nnd, 150-Z
cxplicaling, t51-2
law of, 108, 12·.
self.identíty and, 167, 169, 171-5
cawation
belief and, 77, 84-5, 88, 117
constant eOlljunction and, 159, 160--2
contiguity and, 15~-8, 160-2, 171-2
definilion oC, 156-62
determination and, 157-60, 162
Hume's 8ccount, of, 11, 23, 28, 111,
117,156,160,175,211
necessar'J collnexion, 157-8, 160-5
pleasure and, 221-2
subjecti\ísl theor)', 156-60
successioll, 157-8, 160-1
trutlt and, 1,.6-7
uniformi!y thcsis, 156, 160
Christian.it)-, 14-18, 47, 100, 103-6,
152-5
Cicero, 7-8
Chnke, S., 8, 12, 1+6, 1+7, 150-1, 152,
155
Clemellt of AI~xn.ndria, iS
Clerk·i\raxw~lI, J., 72-5
ClilTord, "'. K.., 78-9, 90
Colerídge, S. T., 49: 207
contraet theor)', 59, H, 48-9
con\"enlíon
artificial \"irtue and, 51-2, 59-67
beha\"íour pattems a.nd, 59-60, 62-5,
64,66
defined, 52, 59-60
in promises, 51, 59-6.2.
in we of language, 59-64, 66-7
co·ordination equilibriulll, 62-5
Cumberla.nd, R., 45, 46, 47
DeisnI, 45, 100, 105, 107, 109, 112,
128-58
INDEX
design, argument Crom, 9-10, 18, 107,
110-11
dialogue, phiJosophical, 1-+, 8, U
Dialogues
Adam Smíth and, 1, 5, 16, 22055
artfulness of, 5, 6-7, 9, 12, 16-17
n.rtisLry, 2-3, 5, 9, 11-12
caulion in, 5, 6-7, 12
Cicero and, 7-8
Cleanthes' role, 2, 4--5, 7, 9-10, 14-
Demea', role, 4--3, 6, 7, 8-9, H, 155
Hamann', résumé of, 107-8
interprelaLions of, 151-2, HO
Pllmphilus, 6-7, 8, 12, 13, H, 15
peroralion, 3, 6, 15-14, 16-17
Philo's role, 2, +-6, 7, 15-14, 18,
105, 108
'prllyer', 5, 14-15, 16-17, 18
prudentia.1 strnteg}', 2, 5-7, 12, 15-14-
publication, 1,107
Sntith and, 1, 5, 16, 22n 55
space allotted to interlocuton, 5-6
structure oC, ......5, 11
Leachings of, 5, 17-19
translations of, 101
\'iew oC nature, 10-11, 12
Oíderot, D., 121, 180
Douglas, D., 25, 26, 27, 28
dualism, t12
economics, 29-31
education, 90, 91, 196
empiricísm
Clennthes', 9-10, 21n17
diaJectic oC, 118, 121-4
Hume's, 5+, 59, 4·~
ín polities, '~5-4, 46, 47, 48
in Treatise 11, 159-+4-
invcrsion of Hume's, 111-1.2.
NewLonian, 4+--5, ''', 159-·H
Enlightenment
bnsic ussumptiolU of, 93-+, 95
reaclion to, 95-6, 99-100
see also Prencll, Scottish
Epícureanism, 46, +8
epislemic justification, 1 +9, 152
epistemoloBY' 2+, 51, 70, 101, 109,
159, 222--3
EssQ)"s, +1, IDO, 101
'OC )Iiracles', 15, 125, 132
'or National Characters', 11" 151
IOf Suicide', 2-
'Of Superslition Bnd Enthusiasm', 15,
150
'Of the fllllllorLlllily of lhe Soul', 2
'That Politics 1Il1l}' be reduced lo t\
Seience', 39
229
etlIies
Adam Smith's, 57, 70
HUlcheson's, 24-5,195,212
Reíd's,21-
Smith's, 37, 70
existentialisl1l, 109
experience
coherence in, 27-8, 55, 105
knowledge bued on, 120-1,215
inlerpretalion of, 51-2
external world
coherence oC experience und, 27-8,
33-4,55,103
continued existence oC, 28, 51-5,
55-7, 65, 110
I-IalllalUl'S \"iew of, 101-3
Hume's view of, 28, 31, 52-3, 51,
101,102, lOS, 110
íma.ginatíon and, 28, 31, 55
Kant's view oC, 102
perceptíon nnd, 55, 56-7, 102
faiLh (Glaubt'), 99,100-3,108-12,115
feeling(s)
function oC, 25
morality nnd, 2+, 117, 195-4, 196,
212,218--20
Newlonian method applied to, 139-4+
non-natural dislinctions and, 218-19
Fiehte, J. G., 96, 109
Fmlr Disserlations, 2
Prench
Eneyclopnedisls, 93, 96, 97, 99,
Enlighlcnment, 71, 95-4, 95
Galileo, G., 8
Gn)", Jolm, 193-·.
German
Counter-Enlightenment, 95, 96-100,
106, 112-1+
Hume's works published in, 100-1
Gotl
altríbules of, 6-7, 8, 9, lO, 11, 16,
18,150, 150
being of, 4-7, 8, 9, 14, 18, lOO, 150
cnusallllaxilll and, 150, 152
id('ll oC, 57
Pielist \-iew, 96-8, IDO, 102, 103,
106-7,111,112,115
will oC, 150,211
Goclhe, J. ''V., 100,109,112, 1J3
grn\'ity, gTnVilalíon, 29, 50, 51, 1+1-2
Green, T. 1-1., 75, 192-3
Grotiw, H., 45, +5, ·.6
(
(
(
Hamann, J. G.
(
career or, 96-7
( Hume and, 95, 96, 101-8
I philosophy or, 97-100
Humillon, Sir William, 73, 7 ..... 76
( in DiaJo~ul!s, 2,10-11,12,17,18,
Hegel, JI., "'3, 100
( JIelvétiw, C. A., 9+, 101
Herbert, Lord, 151,132,153
( Herder, J. G., 96, 100, 102, 105, 109,
112
( 'l-li~toricl1t E.Ull)' on Chivalry nnd
L i\lodern Honour'. 122-5
( hisloriography, 59, +1
flislory oJ O,".W! Bri/ain, 313
( Ilobbes, T., 45, H, 48, 146, 147-50,
151,152,198-9
( honour, 122-5,207
human nalure
( cll.rly writingli on, 122-3
Hume's view oC, 199-200
( science oC, 19, 2+-5, 140
humanism, 17-19
( Hume'! Law, 210-17
Husserl, E., 69-76
Hutcheson, F., 2-+-5, +3,... 47,117,
187. 192, 195-S
idenlism, 112
idenes)
abstract, 53-9, 183
complex, 57-8, 158, 161, 178
determinnlencH or, 55-6
l external world and, 27, 55-6
( feclings nnd, 141-2, 1 ...5
imngcs und, 3, 52-3
l livc!il1css of, 1-+1-2. 143, 156, 158
mcnning ami, 52-"', 56-7
( L
oC causalion. 156. 158, 161
of particulan, 5+-5, 56
l perceplions and, 58, 70. 71, 165nl1
rclaliom oC, 7i-
lime as al1, 185
way oC, 222-5
su nlso association
images, 52-8. 108, 168
imngination " reason and, 210. 213, 115, 2J6
belief in extenlal wOTld a.nd, 51. 33,
36-7
discovery oC truth ando 29, 50, 52,
35
fiction oC, 51. 3+---5
in nrl, 36
in heljef in cxtenlul world, 31, 33.
36-7
in economic5, 29-50
in moral judgement, 25, 29, 37
in science, 27-9, 30, 35-7
<..
(
\
INDEX
interrupled perceptions and, 27, 28,
5.... 36, 57
knowledge and, 2+, 36-7. 97, 100
principIes oC, 53-5
rea;¡on and, 55-+, 38n19
Smilh's view, 27-30, 35-7
synthetic function oC, 5+---1
iIllPI"Cssion(s)
bclicb nnd, 82, 102-5
compound,158
conjunction oC, 102-5
determinatcncss of, 55
meaning aud, 66
mornl uppro\'al as, 223
objective existence nnd, 55, 65
post, 66, 82. J 59
simple, 218
time as OH, 182-5
lransition Crom, to ideas, 122, 125,
156,158
instinct, 10, 97. 102, 110
inlellectulll atomi18.tion. 10-1
intentional activit}', 62
írany
in DiaJogu~s, 1-9, 11, 12-15, 16, 11
in Tr~alis~, 106
Socralic, 15
is/ought passage. -\6--8, 210-17
Jacobi, F. H .• 95, 96, lOO, 106, 109-12
Johnson, S., 25, 152
justice
as an artificial virtue, 24, 195
convention and, 59-60, 62
Hume's account oC, 23, 24, 4.... 46, 48,
49.188
motive to, 187-8, 191, 196
origin oC, 59, 191, 198
Kames, Lord, 23, 24-
Kant, E., 11, 37, 74. 96. 98, 101, 104,
lOS. 107, 108. 111, 112, 121,175,
223
Kierkegaard, S.• 3,17.78, lOO, 106
knowledge, 29, 9-\, 97-9, 140
language
as commwlication, S... S8--9, 64-6, 97
conventioo in use oC, 59-67
Hama.nn·s view oro 97-9, 107
Hume's account oC. 5'2. S<J-.9
objectivity in use oC. 64-5
so...ial selting or. 54, 58, 59, 63-S
law oC change. 42-4, 50
Leibni7.. G. l/V, von, 104, 112, 150,
152
Lessing, G. E., 96, 109, 112
INDEX
Jiberty, "1. 42, 45. 70, 150. 1.f.9
literary crilici;¡m. 119-20, 122. J 25
Locke, J". 52-3, +1, -IS. 46. 48, 55, 54.
77,79.80.81-2,87.88,89.97,
117, H6. 147, 151, In. J75-6,
179,222-3
LonginU!l, 119, 122
i\fande\'ille, B". H, 122. 195-6, 198
munkiml, conditiOIl oC, 8-9, 10, 16-17 I
man oC letters, 15. 17, 18-J9, JOa
mntcrialism, 52. 96. 112
malle)', 32-5
meaning
ideos nnd, 52-4, 56-7
imagcs nnd, 52, 55, 5~, 58
ímpressiolls and, 66
Locke's theoT)' oC, 55
melllor}'. 82, 8+, 161, 167.168-71
Mili, J. S., 72,112
Millar, J .• 25, 26, 40
mind
and brnin, 32
and body, 167, 169, 172-3
Hume's theory oC, 167, 172-3
inlrospeclive awarenl"SS and, 167,
168, 169-70
miracles. 15, 88-9. 90. 105-7, L5.
132,197
moral
npproval, 219, 221-2, 213
judgements. 2+, 29. 57, 117, 198. 212.
2J:i, 214, 217n1
philosophy, 19, 24-, 119-10, 121, 210
seme. 19.... 196--8
morolity
artificial virtues and, 51
bosed on Ceeling. 193-+. 196, 212.
213-16,219-20
belief ando 77-91
Hume's theory oC, +7-8, 119-20.
197,210-17,218
imaginalion in, 25. 19-\
obligation and, 216--17
pleasure and, 215-16
religion and, 9. 15, 16
will and, 210. 212. 215, 21'1-, 215
motivation, 210. 212, 21+, 2JS
Natural History of Religion, 2, 18, 19,
48,101,103,140
natural jurisprudence, 4S-6
Natural Law
empíricol foundalion on, +4-5
Hume', lhcory oC. 4+-6, 117
llllodern' school oC, 43-+
secularisalion oC, +4, 46-7 -18 93-+
117 " •
naturnlislU, 19, 96, lJ2
nature
19,2Jnl1
Hamann's \"iewoC, 99. 106
Kewman, J. H .• 78
'new scene oC thought', 117-19
Xew Scicnce, 21 n J 7
-.l Xewtoll, L, 29, 51. -IS, 120
Xewhmian
method in Tr~tltisc 11, 159-4+
science, 29, 51, oH-5. H. 117. 121
176,211 '
obligalion, -18-9, 65-4, 212-13. 214,
215-17
obsen"ation, 41, 42, 45, 95, 94-, 121,
12+-5
paHiolU. see feelings
phenomonolog)", 71-2, H, 75, 90, 105.
1H
phiJosophcs, 18.95--4-.97
Physiocratl:s, 18
PietislU, 95-6, 109
Plato, 1, 27: 81, 110
Platonism. i. 78
pleasure
no> a prívatc expericnce, 218, 225
morality and, 213-1+, 2J5, 216, 218-
223
t)"pe3 oC, 219, 220-1, 222
utility and, 29-30
Political Discourscs, 198
polilics
.-\dam Smith's, 40-2. 45-6
as programme oC modernisstion. 39.
42, +9
definition oC, 'lO, 45
historica! contexloC, 59-H. -\2, +5,
47. +9
law oC change in, 42-+, SO
'religious h)"potllesis' and, 4+-5, 48,
-19
seculuisation oC. 4S, 44-5, 48
Pope. A., 119, 122
posi6"íSln, 10+
probabilit)" 81--6, 103, 112
progreu. 18. 40-1. 45
promises, 51. 59-62. 63. 66
property. 51, 59. 61, 64.205. 206,
207
Pufendol'C, S., +3. 45, 46. +7, 48.
rationnlislll, +. 7, 2+, 45, 47, 112, 133.
190-7
 (
( INDEX

( rell50D, 10,2+,35-+, 38n20, 47, 93-4, Sextw Empiricw, 19, 125

( 104, 108, 124, 128 Smith, Adam
distinctiom oí, 75, 74- and tbe Dialogu.es, 1, 5, 16, 22055
( Reid, T., 25, 24, 25, 69, 70-1, 75, lOS, contribution to social seience, '100-1
121 Essays, 25, 26
( religiol1 estimale oC Hume, 24, 29, 69, 70
as a social phenomel1on, 2, 15 'Hislary oC Astronorny', 25-6, 28, 56,
distinctiollS oC, 205-6, 208--9
empiricism and, 9-10, 1+
70
influence oC Hume on, 23-57, 44, 71-2
l
( erected on philosophical scepticism, 5, on imaginalion, 27-30, 55-7
17 011 Nalural Law, +5-4
( Hume', view of, 2, 15-110, 15, 16, on poJilical scienee, '~0-2, 45
77,105,10+,107-8 Theory olll'!ol-al Sentiments, 29, 40
moralit)' and, 9, 15, 16 11'ealthof NatiolU, 50, +0, '102, +3, 45,70
natural, 1, 1+-19, 107, 150-1, 153, Smith, N. Kemp, 1,2+-5,51,76, 105,
( 140 105, 106, 117, 131, 139-40, 159,
orthodox)", 7. 9, 152 195, 19+, 219
( philosophicaJ, 2, 15, 17-18, 107 social
Pietist, 100-1 chauge, 40-1
( polilics and, 43, 4+-5, 48-9 contrnet, 45
( rationn1, 15, 17-18, 107 science, 40-1, 70
revealed, 1, 15, 17-19, 107, 151, Socrales, 15, 104, 105, 120
152-3, 197 spacc, 124, 178, 185
'vulgar', 15, 18, SpinoI.B, B., 10+, 109, 110, 112
'religious hypothesis', 16, 18, 44---5, S·Q 'h.,;" 175, 179-ll0
48-9, 111 state oC nature, 45, 46, 48
rhetoric, 20n+, 42 Sleuart, Sir James, 42
Rousseau, J.]., 15, 42, 105, 144- Stoics, 78
rule oí law, 41, 70 Slrahan, \'V., 1, 190, 199
Rwsell, Bertrand, 61, 112 supenlBtural, the, 16, 17, 18,19,206,
208, 209
scepticisUl superstition, 15,90,105, 119,150,
ambivalence in, 5, 5, 12, 14 152-5, 205, 206
anli-rntiona.llits' use oC Hume's, 101- symbolic aet, 205-9
2,105,111-15 sympathYl 25, H, 141, 145, 19+, 196
causal, 156-63 Swirt, J., 2, 132
\ dinlectic oC, 118, 12.......5
dialogue form and, 3, 5 theism, 2, 3, 12, U, 16, 151
( in palitics, +1-2- theology, 8, 4+, 77-8, 107
mitigated, 5, 5, 17-18, 19, 20n5, 85 time
philosophical, 15, 17 eawation and, 1+9-50, 171
Pyrrhonian, 20115, 85-4, 87, 89 Hume's aeeowlt oC, 178, 181-5

,
1- scicnee(s)
applied, 9+
points oC, 1~6, 1+7, 148-9
Treo/üe, 1, 25-4,27,28,57,51,69-

, imogillation in, 27-9, 50, 35-7

natural, 95-'~, 98, 103, 110, 115
l'ewlonian, uc Newtollian
\ reduclionism and, 75
theory oC, 28-9, 55-6, 71-2
( &ott, Sir Walter, +2
Scouish Enlightellment, 'lO, +2, 49-50,
1- 71-6, 10·~, 112
Selby.Bigge, L. A., 19Z--5
\ selC
-idcutity, 109-10, 111, 12+, 167-72
76, lOO, 110, 119-20, 159-4+
truth, 94, 97, 98, 109, 110, Ha, 14G-7
utilitarianism, 96, 112, 1+1
utility, 2+, 29-50, 46, 140-1
yalue judglllenls, 215-16
virtue
and "ice, 212, 216, 220, 222
artificial, $ee artificial
motive te, 187, 188, 190, 191,192,197
plcnsure and, 214, 219, 220, 222

,
1- -intercst, 188, 191-5, 198
·lo\'c, 190, 192, 197, 199 'Villiams, .8.,77,78,79,81

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