Enlightenment (The Scottish)


Enlightenment (The Scottish)
The Scottish Enlightenment M.A.Stewart INTRODUCTION The term ‘Scottish Enlightenment’ is used to characterize a hundred years of intellectual and cultural endeavour that started around the second decade of the eighteenth century. Our knowledge of the period is changing, as scholars investigate more of the manuscript deposits and publishers reissue more of the scarcer printed sources. Although I am here concerned with philosophical developments, the Enlightenment was not narrowly philosophical. Scottish historical, legal and medical writers responded to the influence of philosophical debate; philosophers themselves did pioneering work in social science; and the natural sciences and the arts reached new heights of national and international distinction.1 The Enlightenment should not, however, be defined solely in terms of innovation. There were significant continuities with the previous century, while the challenge of criticism brought a new quality to the work of the best defenders of orthodox tradition. The controversy surrounding the replacement of the Catholic King James by the joint monarchy of William and Mary in 1688 had reawakened interest in the nature and basis of civil government, and fuelled a certain amount of idealism about the reform of the institutions of state to re-establish ancient ideals of public and personal virtue.2 The Scottish universities were caught up in this mood of reform, while constrained by the preparedness of those involved to subscribe the Westminster Confession of Faith. William III, faced with the rival claims of episcopacy and presbytery to the control of the Scottish Church, awarded the contest to the presbyterians on the understanding that they appoint ‘moderate’ persons to positions of influence, persons who would avoid pulpit demagoguery and theological witchhunts. The mandate was more easily fulfilled in the universities, where there was greater influence over appointments than in the Church, though an attempt in the 1690s to steer the universities into a uniform national syllabus failed. One reform, introduced piecemeal over the following century, contributed to a temporary superiority of the Scottish over the English universities: the institution of Dutch-style specialist appointments in the different branches of the curriculum. Scotland was unusual in the degree to which developments in philosophy occurred within, rather than in opposition to, the universities.3 The main exception is in the work of David Hume (1711–76), who was twice barred, by clerical opposition, from university appointments, at Edinburgh in 1745 and Glasgow in 1752. But Hume interacted with the intellectual establishment, and it will be convenient to build the following account round some of this interaction. The curriculum was dominated by the three traditional divisions of philosophy: logic and metaphysics, moral philosophy, and natural philosophy.4 Logic in the early part of the century was still substantially Aristotelian, sometimes recast in the language of ‘ideas’, but half a century later Alexander Gerard, Thomas Reid and George Campbell could write of this formal training as largely discredited. Meanwhile rhetoric, another traditional component, was being transformed into the study of belles lettres.5 A certain amount of epistemology, Cartesian and later Lockean, whose methodology ran counter to that of syllogistic logic, might be added.6 Metaphysics, even after the decline of Aristotelianism, remained primarily the study of ontology. This could extend, particularly in later usage and among medical writers, to the nature of mind and its modes of operation.7 The latter was traditionally called ‘pneumatology’ and was regarded as the foundation for moral philosophy. Moral philosophy was not confined to ethics, for ethics had to be grounded in a thorough understanding of human nature. A century earlier, this had been the prerogative of the theologians, whose emphasis on humanity’s fallen state had encouraged a strictly biblical view of moral teaching. The Enlightenment changed this ethos, but the aim of instruction remained one of instilling principles of virtue and good citizenship within a context of general piety.8 As for natural philosophy, Cartesianism and the controversies it brought in its wake had become the staple of most universities by the later seventeenth century, but gave way to the science of the early Royal Society by the turn of the century. This was presented in different ways in different institutions, according to the experimental facilities and mathematical expertise available. Some stressed the experimental or at least datagathering basis of the new science, some its inherently systematic character in reducing diverse phenomena to a body of laws; while all of them in some degree saw the different branches of philosophy as sharing a common methodology.9 THE AGE OF HUTCHESON The official face of reform appears in the increasing use of classical Stoic sources for teaching purposes.10 These offered a morality attractive enough to the moderate Calvinist mind to satisfy the pedagogical requirement that secular writings should not endanger the faith. Cicero was frequently studied as a Stoic resource, and Scottish editions of Seneca, Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius were reprinted throughout the eighteenth century. Francis Hutcheson (1694–1746) and James Moor (1712–79) collaborated on an annotated translation of Aurelius which was promoted as an antidote to sectarianism.11 Along with this went a revived interest in natural law—a field where ethics and epistemology converge. Because these studies traditionally related to natural religion, for which the advances in science appeared to be opening up spectacular new vistas, the arts faculties at last found themselves with an integrated agenda for the post-scholastic era, in which, even if they continued to respond to the religious climate of the day, they could reestablish their independence from dogmatic theology. The natural religion which was particularly in vogue was that of the Dutch Remonstrant tradition of the previous century, which ran from the jurist Hugo Grotius— on whom Hutcheson used to give public Sunday lectures—to the theologian-journalist Jean LeClerc. It had received expression in English through the work .of Henry More, John Wilkins, John Tillotson and other English divines close to the early Royal Society; while their defences of the biblical revelation had received additional support in the writing of Locke. Locke had argued that the existence of God could be rationally demonstrated, though his handling of the arguments of natural religion was relatively cursory and dogmatic for someone working in the heyday of the Design argument; and he had developed a defence of revelation from his own historical researches. Believers in revelation appeared to have two lines of recourse. They could appeal to personal experience and claim to have been favoured with individual revelations. This, for Locke, gave carte blanche to the ‘enthusiast’ or fanatic, hence to sectarianism and social division. A personal faith impervious to rational arbitration was a kind of madness.12 The alternative appeal was to the public revelation of the written, ultimately spoken, doctrine of the Scriptures, validated by the miraculous events contained within their history. But here the same difficulty recurred: when can a miracle story be believed? A rational test was found in the criteria for ‘weighing’ historical evidence by reference to the quantity and quality of ancient witnesses.13 One Scot who was influential in insisting on the rational credentials of revelation was Hutcheson’s teacher John Simson (1667–1740), who was prevented by the Church from carrying out his office as professor of divinity at Glasgow after 1729.14 Besides these overt trends in the curriculum, there was a more clandestine debate, particularly among the students of divinity and law. We find it in the graduate clubs, some of whose members go on to form the nucleus of the professional literary and scientific societies of the mid-century. Four not entirely separate interests can be documented, almost contemporaneously—a sharpened political consciousness, and a fascination with the imported philosophies of Shaftesbury, the deists, and Berkeley. Politically, it was the Ulster students at Glasgow who made the running. Their disabilities at home made them sensitive to authoritarian administration. Some came, too, with a hostility to theological regimentation, at a time when other young intellectuals, some of them trainees for the ministry, were questioning the Church’s continuing role in the oversight of the universities and arguing that religion could as easily corrupt morals as promote them.15 If they and their fellow students found Shaftesbury’s ironic attitude to religious and educational institutions attractive, they were particularly receptive to his argument that religion presupposes morality rather than the reverse; and if that means there has to be an instinctive moral feeling—particularly if it can be shown that this is also the impetus to all that is best in art and literature—then there must be a brighter side to human nature than either traditional theology or recent philosophy had proposed. Gershom Carmichael (1672–1729), the first designated professor of moral philosophy at Glasgow, was no follower of Shaftesbury, but he nevertheless laid the groundwork for this reception, by emphasizing the social nature of humanity, and putting it on a new philosophical footing, as part of a theory of rights founded in the love of God rather than the fear of man.16 More radical free-thinkers were also discussed, such as John Toland (himself a Scottish graduate), Anthony Collins, and Matthew Tindal. George Turnbull (1698–1748), who taught at Aberdeen in the 1720s, had gone through a deist phase when he sought to engage Toland, and Toland’s patron, Lord Molesworth, in correspondence. His contemporary in Divinity school, Robert Wallace (1697–1771), who was avowedly utilitarian in his thinking, subjected religious doctrine to moral tests and questioned the intended universality of some Bible precepts. But both used the deist challenge to test the limits of acceptable belief rather than to go beyond them, and both responded to Tindal with defences of the Christian dispensation.17 The one committed Scottish deist of the period was William Dudgeon (1706–43), who has no known academic connections. He published tracts in the 1730s defending a natural religion whose content was purely ethical. He accepted an afterlife, but denied the reality of sin. In the divinely ordained order, conduct is fully determined by motive, but no motive is inherently evil: error, which is the by-product of our necessary imperfection, can be corrected by selfdiscipline. 18 Dudgeon combined this with a Berkeleyan metaphysic which reduced a causally inoperative ‘matter’ to ‘ideas’ caused immediately by God, the only autonomous substance, on whom finite intelligences depend. Turnbull also wrote, in the work which grew out of his Aberdeen lectures, as if matter is reducible to perceptions (the dissolution of bodies in death is the end of certain ideas, and the effects of matter upon matter are no more than perceptions excited in our minds). But what he rejected, like many of his contemporaries, was active matter. Its indestructibility as a passive object, operations upon which are linked to our minds by laws, is a prerequisite for his argument for immortality.19 Thomas Reid (1710–96), Turnbull’s most distinguished pupil, is the only individual for whom we can document an initial attachment to outright immaterialism.20 For others of the period, what caught their fancy was Berkeley’s theory of vision—until it was subjected to influential criticism by the physician William Porterfield21—and his theological voluntarism: the laws by which the objects of our experience are related are seen as direct evidence of God’s sustaining power. These notions were sufficiently congenial that, when Berkeley attacked their other hero, Shaftesbury, in Alciphron in 1732, it provoked one former admirer, William Wishart (1692–1753), to violent satire.22 By this time, however, Edinburgh students were hearing in their logic class that Colin MacLaurin in his natural philosophy lectures had invalidated Berkeley’s metaphysics.23 Andrew Baxter’s (1686–1750) defence of the conventional two-substance view of the creation was also influential: he challenged the assimilation of perception with the object of perception and established the stereotype of Berkeley as a Cartesian doubter who never found the way back to reality.24 Turnbull’s engagement with all these new trends in a single body of writing—deism, Berkeleyanism, liberty in religion, the reform of education, the moral basis of art, moral law, the restoration of civic virtue—has given him an interest for modern scholars which he could not claim in his lifetime, when most of his books were remaindered. Binding them together is a consistent methodology in which all studies can be reduced to laws by a combination of historical and experimental study. Turnbull was already practising this before Hume conceived his own project of ‘introducing the experimental method of reasoning into moral subjects’, but, significantly, both were pupils of the same ‘professor of natural philosophy and ethics’ in Edinburgh, Robert Steuart.25 Hutcheson was less flamboyant but more influential, a charismatic teacher whose Ulster background contributed to his strong interest in natural and civil rights. The common good is enjoined by the law of nature, and there is a natural right to engage in whatever mode of action advances this common good. The conventions of social organization are all subordinate to this purpose. Hutcheson’s arguments against undue authority in every form made him a leading campaigner, not only for toleration, but against slavery, hereditary power, and so-called ‘rights of conquest’.26 It was probably Hutcheson’s version of the contract theory of civil authority, entitling the governed to resist, and if necessary to separate from, whatever power threatened the common good, that had most influence in the American colonies. But what Hutcheson defended as the rights of colonies he also identified as the rights of ‘provinces’.27 Our concern for the common good and the rights that it entails both reflects and reinforces an instinctive philanthropy that shows itself when we look self-critically at the happiness and misery brought about by different kinds of behaviour. It excites in us an ‘esteem’ or ‘perception of moral excellence’ of any action motivated by benevolence. Not all action is so motivated, nor is all appraisal moral; but Hutcheson was best known in his lifetime for this theory of moral appraisal and its aesthetic analogue. He developed it in the four treatises, in two books, composed while he kept an academy in Dublin in the 17205, before he succeeded Carmichael at Glasgow in 1730.28 Moral practice was for Hutcheson a matter as much of the heart as of the head, and his work is concerned with both analysing and cultivating the appropriate ‘affections’. We have a sense of beauty, which shows itself not only in our appreciation of the arts and mathematics, but in our response to the whole creation as a manifestation of infinite wisdom. The humane affections are as much part of this creation—as much inherent in human nature and independent of social artifice—as size and shape, and almost as readily detectable; and that they are is evidence in turn of the benevolence and intention of their designer. Hutcheson’s account is built round his theory of a moral sense, which is less well articulated than its place in his system requires. The aesthetic analogy drops out in his later writing. Hume believed he had a similar account, when he argued that virtue is a quality of action or character that promotes in persons of normal sensibility a distinctive ‘pleasing sentiment of approbation’;29 its being virtuous lies in its promoting such a sentiment, and he then seeks to analyse the sentiment (a kind of love) and its causes (the benefit of those affected). Both agreed we may feel such sentiments even when the act runs counter to our interests. Hutcheson, however, in a work published after Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature, insists that ‘the good approved is not this tendency to give us a grateful sensation’ but is independent of and prior to it: it lies in the source of the sentiment, which for him is the benevolent affections of the agent.30 The St Andrews theologian Archibald Campbell (1691–1756) agreed with Hutcheson that we have an instinctive tendency to social bonds, but instead of attributing this to benevolent motives, he attributed it to the feature Hutcheson disdained: self-love.31 To some degree this was a verbal dispute, since self-love for Campbell is not a form of selfishness and is not a consideration of advantage. It includes self-esteem, or respect, but it can be gratified through the esteem of others, because the ‘self in question is the ‘self of Aristotle’s theory of friendship, whereby another person can be ‘self’ to oneself; indeed self-love on this account motivates God as much as humans. Moral virtue is brought about through the love and respect that self-love prompts us to desire and deserve of others, who desire and deserve it of us, creating an amicable society in which there is mutual esteem. While the phrasing is not ideal, there is a substantive point at the back of it, picked up later by Hume and Kames: benevolence on its own is not enough to engage an agent to any particular action. Elsewhere, Campbell threatened to challenge the rational religion of the Enlightenment. In The Necessity of Revelation (1739), he adopts a basically Lockean epistemology, but takes issue with the idea that the existence of God, the soul’s immortality, and the conduct necessary to eternal happiness, can be proved without revelation. God’s existence is provable to those who see the evidence. But this evidence was unavailable until within living memory—the Design arguments of antiquity were naive—whereas the foundations of religion must have been open to persons of ordinary comprehension at all periods. The mass of mankind, surveying nature, ascribe supernatural powers to everything, and it requires a revelation to see, with modern science, that that is a mistake. Neither do ordinary persons understand the essence of matter, or how to abstract from experience to form the idea of another immaterial, indissoluble, substance. In section III of this work, Campbell rejects Plato’s arguments for immortality as sophistries, and contends that no other of the ancients suspected the soul was immaterial: ‘all the great ends of morality and religion are well enough secured without it’. The data of comparative religion suggest that no one attained a doctrinally sound monotheism and its associated morality by reason alone. But if we are dependent on revelation, we face Locke’s problem afresh: how is a revelation to be identified? We cannot simply assume a Deity, or fall back on the word of a being whose existence is in contention. Campbell’s solution, in section VII, is bafflingly brief and unimpressive, though a variant on the argument from testimony: he conjectures that an angel ‘led on the human mind by rational proofs and arguments’ which were communicated in turn to posterity, the moral probity of the source being the factor that carried conviction. We have the evidence of Mosaic history that such a revelation, once given, was corrupted and lost. Campbell is happy to count Pierre Bayle as one of his authorities. Campbell’s strategy had been anticipated by another Scottish theologian, Thomas Halyburton (1674–1712). The deists, Halyburton claimed, cannot pretend that mankind in general subscribe to natural religion: experience is plainly against it. Some have been steered into it by the authority of a small group of thinkers, but on what principles did they recognize the authority of their evidence? Appended to his Natural Religion Insufficient was An Essay concerning the Nature of Faith, where Halyburton specifically attacked Locke’s argument to found faith in reason. It does not fit the scheme of knowledge as intuitive, demonstrative, or sensitive, and conflicts with Locke’s claim to accord revelation the highest degree of assent. The external signs (miracles) to which Locke appealed in confirmation of an original revelation did not serve that function. They might deepen the hearers’ faith, but most biblical doctrine was delivered without such signs. To do without them is not to fall back on ‘enthusiasm’: enthusiasm is irrational and at some point conflicts with the evidence of sense and reason. The prophets did not need external signs to recognize God’s hand. They had it by an ‘irresistible Evidence’, like someone who knows an author’s style well enough to recognize it in anonymous instances.32 HUME’S CRITIQUE OF RATIONAL RELIGION While this native sceptical tradition was grist to his mill, Hume’s own critique of prevailing trends grew out of a wider background, in British and French thought of the previous hundred years and in the main traditions of antiquity; and it is from that background that we must understand his disagreements with Hutcheson.33 Hume was introduced to Hutcheson in 1739 between the publication of Books II and III of A Treatise of Human Nature, and their ensuing correspondence shows an unsuccessful attempt at a meeting of minds. Hutcheson was probably behind at least one of the cautiously critical reviews of the Treatise which appeared in the Bibliothèque raisonnée in 1740–1. Hume responded to the reviewer’s criticisms of his theories of belief, power and the self through the Appendix to the Treatise, while in the body of the text he tried to address problems raised by Hutcheson in correspondence, problems which the later reviewer seized on afresh to scotch any suggestion that Hume was Hutchesonian in his moral philosophy. Hume was seen to derive morality from a strictly secular view of human nature, and to analyse it with the unengaged aloofness of a pure metaphysician. He reduced the moral sense to a limited sympathy, and seemed to turn justice into a Hobbesian conventionalism.34 These charges returned to haunt Hume in the mid-1740s, when an alliance of clerical interests helped defeat his attempt to succeed John Pringle (1707–82) as professor of moral philosophy at Edinburgh.35 Hutcheson and another Glasgow colleague worked to avert Hume’s election, as did Wishart, principal of Edinburgh University and a life-long supporter of Hutcheson’s philosophy. The sceptical aspect of Hume’s thought—his stress on the limitations of reason—attracted most attention. He was seen as rejecting the operation of causes and the reality of moral distinctions, indeed as denying our ability to believe the existence of anything; and this despite the lengths he went to, to explain how we all, including himself, unavoidably come to such beliefs. The main target of attack was the supposed implications of his tenets for religious and moral conviction. Hume complained that his philosophy had been traduced, and denied there were anti-religious implications (meaning implications for personal faith) in the argument of the Treatise.36 In rebuilding his defences in An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding (1748), he finally addressed the applications of his philosophy to both revealed and natural religion which had been suppressed in bringing the Treatise to publication, and this helped provoke some of the first published responses to his philosophy.37 A fuller critique of natural religion appeared posthumously. Hume’s target is the Lockean scenario presented above, which claimed a rational foundation for revealed and natural religion. Hume, like Locke, has no time for the ‘enthusiast’, and ignores the attempts to immunize personal revelation against criticism.38 He builds his critique of revealed religion round the question of the historical credibility of the miracle stories associated with the foundation of the main theistic systems.39 The key concepts in the debate—probability and testimony—link his discussion to Locke. Locke had distinguished the general evidence we have in experience for specific types of phenomena from the quality of the evidence in the particular case—the number and skill of the witnesses, the consistency and circumstances of the report, the purpose of the reporter, and the nature and extent of contrary testimony. The importance of the particular evidence is in inverse proportion to the strength of the general evidence. Where testimonies conflict with experience, or with each other, we should ‘proportion’ our assent after weighing the circumstances, and any signs of passion, interest or confusion in the telling.40 This epistemology is taken over by Hume in a way that defeats Locke’s attempt to plead a special case for biblical miracles. To believe in a one-time exception to the order of nature, we must be aware of an exceptionless order to constitute the law from which the departure occurred. The type of evidence needed to establish the norm destroys our ability to identify the exception, for which the evidence is at best derivative.41 And yet Hume is not impugning the concept of miracle. A miracle is ‘a transgression of a law of nature by a particular volition of the Deity, or by the interposition of some [other] invisible agent’.42 The laws are what operate (by God’s general providence) in the absence of such transgressions (or particular providences). The problem is one of detectability. Hume presents it as a problem of matching proof against proof. He accepts with Locke that the regular sequence of cause and effect offers the highest degree of empirical proof. So we have proof of tomorrow’s sunrise from uniform past experience, though there is no logical absurdity in suggesting it will not rise; and we have comparable proof of any law of nature from comparable natural uniformity. In this sense there is ‘proof against any miracle.43 The potential counter-proof cannot claim direct evidence of divine intervention. It consists in looking for evidence of the reliability of historical witnesses—witnesses with as much proven reliability as other people’s experience of the laws of nature. Hume depicts it as an outweighing in numbers, calculated by subtraction, and illustrates it by the way that witnesses to one side in a legal case can offset those for the other side. It is difficult to make sense of this notion of subtraction for the case in hand, and some of his criteria remain clearly qualitative.44 Appealing to all the weaknesses that Locke identified in human testimony, Hume argues that there is no case where the quantity and quality of the witnesses have met the required standards. One hypothetical case would give him pause: if people came in sufficient numbers from all corners of the earth testifying to a week’s darkness, he would accept that as evidence of something unusual. But he would not leap to a supernatural explanation.45 Locke could make that leap, because he accepted the tradition, established by Bacon, that miracles were not intended to convert atheists. The theist has already accepted the arguments of natural religion, and considered that these lead to a being who would wish to communicate with the sentient creation. Miracles are there to establish a particular system, within an existing framework of belief. Hume challenged this strategy on two fronts. First, a miracle can ‘never be proved, so as to be the foundation of a system of religion’. No matter how worthy the witnesses, they could not show that an appeal to supernatural power—an appeal necessarily outside our experience—was our only recourse.46 Secondly, reason is incapable of establishing the kind of Deity whose revelation is being postulated. This brings us to the second limb of Hume’s critique of rational religious belief: the critique of natural religion. Because his fullest treatment of this is presented as a dialogue sequence, one must be alive to the limitations of the genre.47 The views that Hume sets up for critical scrutiny are little more than stereotypes. But a number of factors support the verdict of his contemporaries that the character of Philo in the Dialogues concerning Natural Religion is more than a ‘careless sceptic’ and is predominantly Hume’s mouthpiece, even sharing his characteristic irony. In the first state of the manuscript, some 60 per cent of the work was assigned to Philo; 85 per cent of the subsequent revision belongs to Philo, including the additions of Hume’s last months.48 He invested his labour overwhelmingly in Philo’s side of the case. Furthermore, even at the time of the Treatise, he had sketched out a narrative study, in which he developed in his own person an argument similar in structure to Philo’s in the Dialogues, and identical in substance on the one topic where comparison is still possible—the problem of evil.49 All parties to the Dialogues accept the existence of a ‘first cause’, but this does not commit them to a meaningful theism.50 It opens up the debate over whether anything can be known of the attributes of an entity so removed from experience. The main focus of discussion is the Design argument, espoused by the character Cleanthes, and presented in the form of an analogy. The world is an integrated system of interacting ‘machines’, in that their essential feature is ‘the adaptation of means to ends’ through an ‘order, proportion, and arrangement of every part’ according to regular laws. From a similarity of effects (the adaptation of means to ends both in artefacts and in the works of nature) Cleanthes infers a similarity of causes (reason and intelligence). ‘Machines’ here does not have narrowly mechanistic associations.51 The emphasis is on organic nature—the structure of legs and eyes, and biological, psychological and social circumstances that combine to support human reproduction. Cleanthes, under pressure, goes on to try to make a virtue of the logical weaknesses exposed by Philo, by self-consciously emphasizing the ‘irregularity’ of the argument—that is, its power to carry more conviction than its logic warrants. The ‘idea of a contriver’ strikes us ‘with the force of sensation’ when we dissect the eye.52 It is like hearing or reading a familiar language, where the recognition of intelligence is, or would be, instantaneous even in bizarre conditions. Everyone sees that the recognition in the linguistic case is sound, and this should inspire our confidence in the other. Although the analogies of immediate recognition are offered by Cleanthes, at the beginning of Part III, as so many ‘illustrations, examples, and instances’ to reinforce the ‘analogy between their causes’, they are better seen as a commentary on it, and as a rhetorical attempt to circumvent Philo’s insistence on case-by-case assessment. The discussion develops round a distinction between God’s natural and moral attributes. The natural attributes relate to intelligence and power, and would pertain to a Deity in any circumstances, whether there had been a creation or not. The moral attributes arise from a freely chosen relationship with sentient creatures. Most of the debate is over the natural attributes, and involves three contentious issues. First, most fundamental, is whether ‘order, arrangement, or the adjustment of final causes’ is the ‘proof of design’ that the argument requires. Philo contends that we cannot see things in cosmic perspective and can only infer design in the kinds of cases we know from experience; order and arrangement are not, themselves, kinds of cases. But if it is a condition that the manifestations of design be recognizably analogous to that in human artefacts, we shall end up ascribing human characteristics to divinity.53 Second, we cannot from experience prove the ultimate priority of ordering mind over ordered matter. Perhaps mind needs to be and can be explained in turn through natural causes; while this is contrary to a common assumption of the time, it is a live issue for those who admit that the essence of matter and mind is unknown.54 Third, the evidence of experience is that there are many ‘springs and principles’ in nature, and different kinds of order. There is an absurdity in taking any singly as the model for all nature. If we do, we have no worse reason to see the world as an ordered animal, or vegetable, than to see it as an artefact; while even a disordered world must have its parts so structured that they would in due course shake out into some sustainable pattern.55 To these challenges to God’s natural attributes, Philo adds a version of the problem of evil. In reasoning from experience we cannot attribute to the cause qualities that are not provable by the effects, and the calamities of human and animal life give no support to belief in the moral attributes of the creator. The committed theist can accommodate this problem, but what is at issue is what we can infer without that commitment. Hume argues through Philo, and in his own person in the early fragment, that the balance between the frequency of pleasures and intensity of pains is such that no determination of whether there is moral purpose in nature is possible.56 Thereafter, in the final Part of the Dialogues, Philo somewhat relents, and concedes that, whatever the limitations of our understanding, the psychological pressures to believe in something are very considerable. But it is a qualified concession, and nowhere more so than in the longest paragraph of the work, the only significant addition from Hume’s last weeks of life, and thereby his dying testament to posterity.57 The dispute between theist and atheist, it is argued, is ‘verbal’. The theist grants the nature of God’s mind to be incomprehensible; the atheist concedes a remote analogy between the orderings of nature and intelligence—not, however, moral intelligence in the human understanding of the phrase. Each from their opposite position must consider the analogy so attenuated that neither has the means to make it more precise or useful. The critical arguments of the Dialogues have found most of their admirers in the twentieth century, but only after Darwinism changed scientific attitudes to the study of nature. In the short term, Hume’s critique stimulated a number of forceful apologists, of whom the most successful was the English theologian William Paley. Modern commentary portrays Paley’s Natural Theology (1802) as a reactionary work written in ignorance of Hume, but careful study of the language and logic of his opening chapter shows it is a systematic riposte, item by item, to many of Hume’s moves. Because Paley builds into his exposition of the Design argument the limitations that Hume’s critique imposes, Hume’s criticisms have no particular target in his work. As for Hume himself, where we fail to find adequate reasons for a belief we may still explain its causes. The belief in God is not one of those fundamental to ‘common life’, where the mechanisms of the mind compensate automatically for the deficiencies of reason. Indeed, the ordinary mind does not have the synoptic view of nature that—unlike Paley—Hume supposes essential to the theistic perspective. Hume explores the roots of religious belief in The Natural History of Religion, which presents a logical reconstruction of popular thought in the guise of a series of historical steps.58 Hume argues that humanity develops from a state of ignorance motivated by hope and fear. This hope, and more particularly fear, is directed to the unknown causes of human fortune, which come to be personified as unseen rulers. Hence polytheism. From that arises the idea of a chief ruler, to whom virtues are ascribed by way of flattery, while their servants amass exaggerated honours. There is a ‘flux and reflux’ in the popular mind, between polytheism and monotheism, the former tending towards toleration and social virtues, the latter towards authoritarian control and a moral abasement that runs contrary to human nature.59 This ‘vulgar’ superstition is contrasted with the sophisticated insight of the minority—Hume ironically includes Adam in Paradise—who appreciate the connected order of nature and derive from it a more fitting and consistent view of the divine character. Though written from a contrary perspective, Hume’s account of ‘vulgar’ religion is largely consistent with contemporary Calvinist teaching about human belief since the Fall, where it was a commonplace, as we have seen, that monotheism is not a position that comes naturally to the unaided mind.60 His writing was a greater challenge to those who favoured the claims of natural religion, because he seemed to show that they could never carry the bulk of mankind with them. But it had a direct influence on William Robertson (1721–93), leader of the Moderate Party in the Scottish Church, whose accounts of primitive religions follow Hume’s specification.61 One frequent element in religious belief, which commonly links it to moral practice, is the belief in immortality. Hume examines this in a posthumous essay, ‘Of the Immortality of the Soul’, which first recapitulates the argument on immateriality in the Treatise.62 Philosophers had often contended that thought, as immaterial, must inhere in an immaterial substance, which by its nature lacked the power to disperse. Hume responded that we have no experience of the substance of anything, so cannot show that any given properties are essential to it; while the doctrine of an indivisible soul-stuff seems to carry with it the implication of an undivided substance throughout nature—a thesis beset with paradox. In the essay, he adds further objections. Assuming the orthodoxy that immortality is bound up with reward and punishment (which liberal thinkers already disputed), he focuses on the apparent disproportion between the petty conduct of most human life and the eternal after-effects. Furthermore, all the analogy of nature is against there being something that resists the processes of change; indeed, we have the evidence of experience that the mind declines as well as the body, and in parallel with it. THE RESPONSE TO HUME The first significant response to Hume’s philosophy within Scotland came with the Essays of Henry Home, Lord Kames (1696–1782), in 1751. Its criticism was sufficiently muted that some contemporaries saw little to choose between them, despite Kames’s support for natural religion. A flurry of pamphlets in the 1750s, aimed at both thinkers and their circle, repeated the charge that Hume’s philosophy, and now Kames’s, was a threat to morals and religion, but it failed to advance the debate philosophically. On the periphery of this controversy was another dispute with theological ramifications, between Kames and John Stewart, natural philosophy professor at Edinburgh, over whether Newton’s admission of mechanical forces was tantamount to conceding activity to matter.63 Kames’s reading of Newtonianism as a necessitarian system seemed to open the way to fatalism and the denial of providence, particularly when he characterized the sense we have of human liberty as a kind of divine ‘deceit’.64 Within this framework, Kames nevertheless offered a balanced picture of human motivation. ‘Self-love operates by means of reflection and experience’ and belongs to the calculating part of our nature, guided by considerations of pleasure and pain. But our appetites and affections do not directly correlate with pleasure and pain. Grief and compassion move us alike in real life and in the arts, and our ability to be drawn to what is painful, and be stimulated by it to delicate feelings, is a sure sign of our social nature. This nature forms the basis of the laws to which we are subject, and which we discover through the instinctive responses of our moral sense to the beauty or deformity of human character and action.65 Kames thought, however, that neither Hutcheson nor Hume gave sufficient attention to the sense of duty and justice, which he traced to a distinctive feeling, without which the trust that holds society together could never have arisen. Kames considered the deceptiveness of moral liberty no different in principle from the ‘unreality’ of secondary qualities. It is consistent with the great design that God should present things in the way best suited to his purposes for mankind, while still enabling us to discover the underlying reality. Berkeley, who might have contemplated a similar argument, was one of his targets here, and Hume another. For Kames it would be more than divine deceit—it would be a totally pointless assignment of useless faculties—if our senses did not put us in touch with a material world. Our perceiving observable qualities as aspects of a whole is proof that we have a sensory impression of substance, that is, of ‘independent and permanent existence’. Equating belief with a simple, unanalysable feeling, he considers there is no appeal against our sense of the externality and power of observed objects; if they are indeed external, and have the power they appear to us to have, no better way of conveying this can be conceived than the way we actually experience them.66 Our sensitivity to the presence of God in nature is accounted for on similar principles.67 Kames’s appeal to a ‘feeling’ which opposes any philosophical scepticism with regard to an objective order—an appeal, in fact, to the concurrent operation of external and what he sometimes calls ‘internal’ senses—has been seen as an extension into the metaphysics and epistemology of Hutcheson’s concept of an inner sense in morals. If so, it is a stage towards the ‘common sense’ theory developed among the members of the Aberdeen Philosophical Society, in part, again, in reaction to the scepticism of Hume.68 Because the ‘common sense’ theory is a theory that accounts for those fundamental convictions which both parties placed outside the province of, reason, and which Hume attributed in certain cases to ‘natural instinct’, the difference between them has sometimes seemed merely verbal. But natural instinct in Hume —as it relates, for example, to belief in the self and the external world, the identification of purposive behaviour, and the operation of causes—is something brought about by the natural processes of the mind consequent to experience, and is not inherent in that experience; and it does not extend to a religious instinct. The first salvoes against Hume’s philosophy to be publicly fired from Aberdeen originated from the pulpit. George Campbells (1719–96) Dissertation on Miracles is intended to demonstrate the rational basis of revealed religion. Its two parts match the sections of Hume’s critique, assessing first the a priori case, then the a posteriori case, for miracles. Campbell argues that ‘testimony hath a natural and original influence on belief, antecedent to experience’, but we learn, by experience, to regulate our confidence in it. The predisposition to accept testimony is a feature of our ‘common sense’, one of the original ‘grounds of belief, beyond which our researches cannot proceed, and of which therefore ‘tis vain to attempt a rational account’. Belief in the uniformity of nature, and in the prima facie reliability of memory, is of this kind. ‘If we had not previously given an implicit faith to memory, we had never been able to acquire experience’, notwithstanding that memory, like testimony, can be corrected by experience.69 The unusualness of an event, Campbell concedes, may be a presumption against its authenticity, but cannot always be so. If I have had two thousand experiences of a ferry boat making a safe and regular crossing, then one day meet a stranger who gravely reports he has just seen it lost with all on board, I am likely to give more credence to this than Hume’s simple subtraction formula would authorize. This holds until sufficient counter-evidence is found, either from other witnesses about the fact, or from witnesses about the witness. Hume had tried to weigh incommensurables; and whether past experience is a sound guide to a new case depends not only on how far relevant circumstances are the same, but on whether they are known.70 Hume himself ran into inconsistency in exploiting testimony to help establish the laws of nature while discounting it in cases of alleged violations, and in dismissing untested any reports that he considered religiously motivated.71 Campbell scores some sound points against Hume’s logic, but sometimes misreads his irony, and is less effective on the decisive question of how one would identify divine intervention.72 Thomas Reid likewise criticized Hume from common-sense principles, but took as his target Hume’s critique of natural rather than revealed religion. He claims to detect ‘first principles of necessary truths’, principles ‘of which we can give no other account but that they necessarily result from the constitution of our faculties’, in grammar, logic, mathematics, taste and morals, but he is mostly concerned with metaphysics.73 Hume properly showed that we cannot derive, either from experience or reason, the belief in material and mental substance, the principle of universal causation, or the certainty ‘that design and intelligence in the cause may be inferred from marks or signs of it in the effect’. Any attempt to do so already assumes the principles in question, so, argues Reid, they must be self-evident. In regard to other intelligence, the case for the existence of God is no different from the case for other minds generally.74 Hume had argued in Enquiry XI that we cannot infer an intelligent cause for the universe because we have had no experience of the origin of other universes. Reid retorts that ‘according to this reasoning, we can have no evidence of mind or design in any of our fellow-men’, either, since we have never been able to match their wisdom against its visible signs. The role of these signs is not, therefore, to form the premises for inductive argument. It is part of the providential design for human life that they are transparent. Hume got into the sceptical impasse, in Reid’s view, because he was obsessed with the principle that there are no ideas without preceding impressions, and no impressions appropriate to the case. Hume’s failing is, however, part of a broader failing of the philosophical tradition since Descartes, which Reid castigates as the ‘theory of ideas’. This is the attempt to build up an account of human knowledge entirely through an account of the atomic contents of experience. But these contents in themselves never reach to the world of which we claim the knowledge, so the project is self-defeating. Reid draws a clear distinction between the study of the body and its relations with other bodies, which may give us a natural history of the senses, and the anatomy of the mind, by which we obtain a history of human consciousness;75 and he sees an obvious absurdity in supposing either that the second is in some way a representation of the first, or—if the absurdity of that is granted—that the first is then beyond our reach. There are limits to our knowledge of the physical world, and to our knowledge of the mind, but there is a kind of philosophical ‘madness’ in confusing the one with the other. In place of the theory of ideas, Reid postulates a distinction between sensation and perception. His formulation of this remains obscure, and has been adapted to serve the interests of different modern theorists. Sensation is an affection or feeling of the mind, quite unlike any physical quality: it can exist only in a sentient being. (Thus the sensation we feel from impact with a hard body is merely a sign. It has nothing about it that corresponds literally to the compactedness of the particles of that body.) But it ‘suggests’, or brings about a ‘conception and belief of, an external reality. The notion of suggestion is taken from Berkeley’s philosophy of vision, but Reid rejects any idea that it is an acquired association: there is no way such an association could arise if it is not inherent in our make-up, although he does allow that the way we learn to judge specific sizes, shapes and distances by sight takes time. Perception is the awareness we have of the existence of external objects by our senses. Reid’s work is imbued with a pleasant wit. Of the principal items that make up his Philosophical Works, his Inquiry into the Human Mind (1764), in which he first stresses the distinction between physical and mental enquiry, is a minor classic, while his Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man (1785), completed after his move to, and retirement from, Glasgow, is a comprehensive study on a grand scale. Of the other members of the Aberdeen circle, the moralist and belletrist James Beattie (1735–1802) made most noise in his day by his fast-selling Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth, which incurred the censure of Kant. This attack on scepticism, largely targeted at Hume, is vaguely concerned more with the criteria than the nature of truth: he vacillates between conceiving truth as something eternal, and as a variable property (‘certain truth’, ‘probable truth’) of individual judgements. We attain truth in proportion to the degree to which we believe what the ‘constitution of human nature determines’ us to believe. Sometimes this comes from reasoning or evidence; sometimes (where those can add nothing to what is already there) ‘by an instantaneous, instinctive, and irresistible impulse; derived neither from education nor from habit, but from nature’. This, again, is ‘common sense’, upon whose axioms all proof is founded and to which all truth is conformable.76 Beattie does not follow Reid deeply into the theory of perception, and his work is coarser in tone, sniping at the ‘irreligion’ and ‘licentiousness’ he sees ensuing, once the defences of common sense are breached by philosophical scepticism. The common-sense tradition itself, by its apparent preoccupation with the anatomy of the mind, came to be criticized on similar grounds, by a logic that is now difficult to reconstruct. It was left to Reid’s most gifted student, Dugald Stewart (1753–1828), an inspirational teacher who was professor of moral philosophy at Edinburgh from 1785 but ceased to be active after 1810, to redeploy this philosophy just as the infiltration of Kantian ideas (still ill understood) began to have its impact; but Stewart’s most original work was in political economy.77 The ‘Dissertation’ which he contributed to the fourth and later edition Supplements to the Encyclopaedia Britannica from 1816 was a history of metaphysics since the Renaissance, and included research into documents now lost. As a historian Stewart could not shake off the standpoint of the ‘Scottish’ philosophy, and indeed used the history of philosophy as a means of vindicating that tradition. In doing so he helped perpetuate certain stereotypes that have outlasted his own philosophy. One is the view that Hume subscribed to a ‘constant conjunction’ analysis of causation which denied any necessitation in nature. Stewart willingly endorsed this, as a death-blow to Spinozism.78 He also approved Hume’s demonstration that there can be no proof of universal causation or of the uniformity of nature, since this gave the common-sense philosophy its needed opening. So when there was opposition to a mathematical appointment at Edinburgh in 1805 because the nominee, John Leslie, had endorsed Hume’s supposedly irreligious view of causality in natural philosophy, Stewart was active in his support. (So were the evangelical party in the Church, who accepted Hume’s proof that faith was beyond reason.) Stewart contended, indeed, that Hume’s analysis was not only commonplace, but had been commonplace before Hume.79 But this needs qualification. What Stewart favoured was the view of Clarke and Berkeley that the active agents are minds, and what is popularly conceived as agency in nature is no more than constant conjunction according to the laws of a lawgiver. As Reid had already expressed it, ‘We perceive no proper causality or efficiency in any natural cause; but only a connection established by the course of nature between it and what is called its effect. Antecedently to all reasoning, we have, by our constitution, an anticipation that there is a fixed and steady course of nature: and we have an eager desire to discover this course of nature’.80 Stewart’s deputy after 1810, Thomas Brown (1778–1820), had also contributed to the Leslie controversy, with a tract on the ‘nature and tendency’ of Hume’s doctrine. He supports a constant-conjunction account of cause, but also endorses Hume’s view that whatever account is given of physical causation applies equally to mental causation. He denies that we have any distinct sense of mental power. However, that the relation of cause and effect is not discoverable a priori, or by reason, but is an object simply of ‘belief (that is, a belief with regard to future contingencies), he sees as compatible with the common-sense appeal to an ‘instinctive principle of faith’.81 Brown’s defence of Hume called forth the talents of the principal woman writer to have a place in the philosophy of the Scottish Enlightenment—Lady Mary Shepherd (1777–1847), daughter of the third Earl of Rosebery. After a book on causality she published another primarily on perception, where additionally she addresses the views of Berkeley, Reid and Stewart.82 She is anxious to obviate any threats to theism, whether from a revisionist view of causation or from doubts about material existence, and she seeks to restore to human reason whatever Hume had attributed to associative instinct and others to common sense. Try to conceive an effect that was not necessarily linked to (in Shepherd’s terms, ‘inherent in’) its cause. Can it, then, begin its own existence? But such beginning is an action, and an action can only be the action of something already existing. An effect is a difference occurring in an existing situation, but it cannot begin of itself if there is nothing to ‘make’ a difference: by ‘reasoning upon experiment’, whether in laboratory study or ordinary life, we establish a difference in the attendant circumstances. Single experiments are often sufficient, except to narrow down the circumstances in which the cause is operative, since it is contradictory to conceive that the course of nature might change.83 However, the factors we observe are strictly effects or signs of the underlying reality, and it is the latter that is subject to the laws of nature: Hume’s mistake in conceiving laws of nature as generalizations from experience undermines his strategy over miracles.84 Her second book tries to show why we must accept that there are efficacious but unknown causes that do not have the character of mind. Mind, she holds, supplies the conditions for sensation in general, but only when there is something else that acts upon it does sensation actually occur.85 The common-sense tradition had also involved itself in moral theory. The intellectual powers were traditionally paired with the active (or ‘active and moral’) powers in that analysis of human nature which was the propaedeutic to moral instruction; and the textbooks and lecture courses of the day all surveyed the nature of human action, the role of appetite, desire, affection and passion, the nature of the moral faculty, the principles that influence moral conduct, and those that regulate it. This was considered an essentially scientific enterprise. The language of a ‘moral sense’ is retained, if by some, like Stewart, apologetically. Reid equates it with conscience, and introduces it into the discussion of the sense of duty, rather than, as in Hutcheson, the sense of good. His account echoes his account of ‘common sense’: All reasoning must be grounded on first principles. This holds in moral reasoning as in all other kinds. There must, therefore, be in morals, as in all other sciences, first or self-evident principles, on which all moral reasoning is grounded, and on which it ultimately rests. Thus there is no reasoning with someone who does not acknowledge the Golden Rule: you can appeal to his sense of interest, but not his sense of duty. To reason about justice with a man who sees nothing to be just or unjust, or about benevolence with a man who sees nothing in benevolence preferable to malice, is like reasoning with a blind man about colour, or with a deaf man about sound.86 But we may reason about specifics, for example for and against particular family arrangements. By this time, however, the focus of interest in moral psychology had shifted to the analysis of agency, and to theattempt to understand human power as the ability to act in conformity with judgement.87 It was outside the common-sense tradition that Scottish moral philosophers in the eighteenth century made their strongest mark. Adam Smith (1723–90) at Glasgow and Adam Ferguson (1723–1816) at Edinburgh—both of whom would become widely travelled scholars with an international circle of acquaintance—carried the analysis of human nature well beyond its customary applications in the moral sphere.88 Breaking the taboo on the analysis of self-interest, Smith made a landmark contribution to the study of the workings and place of economic forces in society, albeit with a normative purpose— the defence of freedom of action, including freedom of competition and freedom of trade. However, although he advocated governmental regulation only in matters relating to the protection of society, he did not deny the duty of government to provide basic public services. Where Smith’s researches into moral and economic conduct led him into two complementary studies, Ferguson had space to integrate the subjects into a single work, in which he saw the existence of moral sentiment as foundational to society. Ferguson’s work is always informed by a strong sense and knowledge of history, whether real or conjectural, and particularly in his conscious rehabilitation of the social ideals of antiquity, which he forcefully distinguished from modern book-learning about them. In his own moral theory, Smith had laid great weight on the classical notion of sympathy as the source of social ties.89 Hume had already revived this idea, in seeking a more convincing mechanism than the instinctive philanthropy of Hutcheson. Smith considered that we are endowed by nature with a twofold sympathy which is reflected in moral judgement. We may sympathize with agents who act from a virtuous motive, and thereby approve their conduct. We may also sympathize with the gratitude of the person who benefits from the virtuous conduct (or if it is not virtuous, we may sympathize with their resentment). This is not the same as simply sharing their sentiments, although we naturally seek to do so. It is an exercise of imagination, and can therefore vary in degree from individual to individual.90 But it can also be trained, in the way that we naturally adapt to the responses of others. (This does not entail blind conformity: we can be out of step with popular sentiment where we have a better, or worse, command of the facts of the case.) But if it were simply a matter of thinking ourselves in other people’s shoes this would not explain how we can also assess our own actions. We do this by becoming ‘impartial spectators’, seeing ourselves as others would see us, if they were fully apprised of the facts. Society therefore serves as a mirror through which we come to scrutinize our own conduct. And in the interaction generated by the operation of sympathy we learn to develop two characteristics essential to the moral life—self-command, and compassion or sensibility. NOTES The following abbreviations are used in the notes: D David Hume Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, in [11.42]. E David Hume An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, in [11.43]. HHC M.A.Stewart and J.P.Wright (eds) Hume and Hume’s Connexions [11.122]. PSE V.Hope (ed.) Philosophers of the Scottish Enlightenment [11.96]. SPSE M.A.Stewart (ed.) Studies in the Philosophy of the Scottish Enlightenment [11.104]. 1 Sher [11.103], 329–76, offers an excellent bibliographical guide to this wider field. 2 One form of this idealism is found in the 1690s in the political pamphleteering of Andrew Fletcher (1655–1716), a Scottish correspondent of Locke, whose experience in exile led him to favour a Dutch type of confederacy for Britain. Fletcher’s extolling of a mythic ‘Gothic’ past in which there was sufficient balance of political power to ensure the liberties of the subjects is a forerunner of early Enlightenment attitudes. But he represented an idiosyncratic nationalism that was out of line with the anglicizing stance of most eighteenth-century Scottish intellectuals. 3 There were five universities. St Andrews, Glasgow, and King’s College, Aberdeen, were late medieval papal foundations. Edinburgh and Marischal College, Aberdeen, were local political creations of the post-Reformation period. Present information is sparsest on eighteenth-century St Andrews. 4 There were, additionally, foundational studies in classical languages, seen also as a source of moral instruction; and mathematical training became increasingly important as a requisite for natural philosophy. During the eighteenth century, civil history, often considered as an extension of natural history, came to be regarded as a significant source of data for the study of morals. 5 George Campbell [11.22] runs somewhat against this trend. His work is distinctive for founding its discussion of eloquence and the grounds of conviction in the study of ‘human nature’, and for three chapters on logic, both formal and informal. 6 Duncan’s popular tutorial manual [11.27] provides an example of this synthesis. 7 J.P.Wright, ‘Metaphysics and Physiology’, SPSE, 251–301. 8 R.B.Sher, ‘Professors of Virtue’, SPSE, 87–126. 9 R.L.Emerson, ‘Science and Moral Philosophy in the Scottish Enlightenment’, SPSE, 11–36. 10 M.A.Stewart, ‘The Stoic Legacy in the Early Scottish Enlightenment’, in M. J.Osier (ed.), Atoms, Pneuma, and Tranquillity (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1991), pp. 273– 96. See also the editors’ introduction to Smith [11.72], 5–10. Stoicism had already attracted some seventeenth-century Scots, like the emigré radical Robert Ferguson in his Sober Enquiry into the Nature, Measure and Principle of Moral Virtue of 1673 (Allan [11.87], 115–18). 11 Hutcheson [11.49], introduction. 12 John Locke, An Essay concerning Humane Under standing, 4th edn, 1700, IV. xix. Hume developed further the associationist psychology on which Locke based his analysis. See C.Bernard, ‘Hume and the Madness of Religion’, HHC, 224–38. 13 It is significant that as history comes to be established in the Scottish curriculum, it is a synthesis of classical and biblical sources. 14 Simson [11.69], 3–5, 12–13, 20; see also ‘Mr. Simson’s Answers to Mr. Webster’s Libel’ in The Case of Mr. John Simson, 1715, pp. 254–63. For contemporary criticism see James Hog, A Letter to a Gentleman concerning the Interest of Reason in Religion, 1716; John McLaren, The New Scheme of Doctrine contained in the Answers of Mr. John Simson, 1717, ch. 12; Alexander Moncrieff, Remarks on Professor Simson’s First Libel and his Censure Considered, 1729, pp. 43–59. 15 M.A.Stewart, ‘Rational Dissent in Early Eighteenth-Century Ireland’, in K. Haakonssen (ed.), Enlightenment and Religion (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). Cf. Wishart [11.85], 221–6. 16 J.Moore and M.Silverthorne, ‘Natural Sociability and Natural Rights in the Moral Philosophy of Gerschom Carmichael’, PSE, 1–12. 17 Turnbull [11.74]; Wallace [11.83]. See M.A.Stewart, ‘George Turnbull and Educational Reform’, in Carter [11.90], 95–103; and M.A.Stewart, ‘Berkeley and the Rankenian Club’, Hermathena 139 (1985): 25–45. 18 Dudgeon, The State of the Moral World Considered, 1732 and A Catechism Founded upon Experience and Reason, 1739, in Works [11.25]. Cf. Carabelli [11.112], 197–206. Raphael [11.145], 36, suggests that Adam Smith was also a deist. So, almost certainly, were some of the philosophically minded scientists in the later part of the century, like William Cullen (1710–90) and James Hutton (1726–97). 19 Turnbull [11.80], ch. 9. Turnbull’s examples reappear in George Wallace [11.82], 42. 20 Reid [11.62], 162. 21 Porterfield [11.57], 214–33. Rejecting Berkeley’s view that our judging of distance by sight is due to ‘custom and experience’, Porterfield sees as the only alternative an acknowledgement of ‘an original connate and immutable Law, to which our Minds have been subjected from the Time they were first united to our Bodies’. Such a law is already implicit in Berkeley’s appeal to touch; and if we accept it in relation to one sense, it is more, not less, economical to accept it for a second. So, he supposes, the mind ‘traces back its Sensations’ through the retina along the ‘perpendicular Lines’ described in optics—never addressing the difficulties Berkeley found in this suggestion. The language of ideas obscures the fact that Berkeley must hold that vision causes us only to imagine, not detect, a tangible distance. Porterfield’s analysis of the problem led Reid to his distinction between sensation and perception, discussed below. 22 Wishart [n.86]. Patrick Hardie of Aberdeen, the first Scot to mention Berkeley in print (1719), and perhaps the first to discuss him in the classroom, was an exception to the view of Berkeley as a friend to religion: Wood [11.106], 38. 23 Stewart, ‘Berkeley and the Rankenian Club’ (above, n. 17). 24 Baxter [11.6], vol. 2, sect. II. 25 On Steuart, see M.Barfoot, ‘Hume and the Culture of Science in the Early Eighteenth Century’, SPSE, 151–90. On Turnbull, see J.Laird, ‘George Turnbull’, Aberdeen University Review 14 (1926–7): 123–35; Norton [11.120], ch. 4; Stewart, Turnbull and Education’ (above, n. 17). 26 Hutcheson, System [11.50], Bk. III. He first published these views in a Latin class manual, translated posthumously as A Short Introduction to Moral Philosophy, 1748; but the underlying theory of rights was already developed by 1728, in the second edition of the Inquiry concerning Virtue [11.48], sect. VII. The political argument against hereditary guilt also challenged the theological doctrine of original sin. 27 C.Robbins,’ “When it is that Colonies may Turn Independent” ’, William and Mary Quarterly, 3rd series, 11 (1954): 214–51. In his System (vol. 2, p. 232), Hutcheson even allows release from the obligation to comply with a policy implemented by consent, if its effect is contrary to the one intended. 28 These are reprinted as vols 1–2 of Hutcheson’s Collected Works, Hildesheim, Olms, 1990. 29 Hume, Treatise [11.45], III. i. 2, which he could reasonably consider modelled on Hutcheson’s remarks on beauty, Inquiry [11.48], sect. I. 30 Hutcheson, System [11.50], 1:53. Cf. Illustrations [11.46], sect. IV. The difference between Hutcheson and Hume here is a difference over their interpretation of the theory of secondary qualities—whether in the mind or in the object—to which virtue and vice are being assimilated. 31 Archibald Campbell [11.19]. For Hutcheson, benevolence and self-love were conflicting motives, the one moral, the other amoral. It required rational reflection and self-discipline to cultivate the one and counteract the other. 32 The ultimate authority here would have been Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion. A similar orthodox defence of inspirational religion, seen as distinct from enthusiasm, was developed by Moncrieff (above, n. 14). The Miracles of Christ and his Apostles are to be believed, because contained in the Scriptures, and not the Scriptures because of them’ (Remarks, p. 56). Otherwise Moncrieff could not be sure why the miracle reports in Josephus were ridiculous, and those in the Gospels not. 33 J.Moore, ‘Hume and Hutcheson’, HHC, 23–57; L.Turco, ‘Hutcheson nel terzo libro del Trattato sulla natura umana’, in M.Geuna and M.L.Pesante (eds), Passioni, interessi, convenzioni, Milano, Angeli, 1992, pp. 77–93. Norton [11.120], 87–92, stresses the ‘providential dimension of Hutcheson’s thought’; contrast Hume, as presented in the same author’s ‘Hume, Atheism, and the Autonomy of Morals’, in Hester [11.115], 97–144. 34 M.A.Stewart and J.Moore, ‘William Smith (1698–1741) and the Dissenters’ Book Trade’, Bulletin of the Presbyterian Historical Society of Ireland 23 (1993): 20–27. For further discussion of Hutcheson’s ethics in relation to Hume’s, see S.Darwall, ‘Hume and the Invention of Utilitarianism’, HHC, 58–82. 35 On Pringle see Stewart, ‘Stoic Legacy’ (above, n. 10). 36 See A Letter from a Gentleman [11.40], a pamphlet hastily assembled by Henry Home, adapting material by Hume. 37 English clerics were first off the mark. See Thomas Rutherforth, The Credibility of Miracles Defended against the Author of Philosophical Essays, 1751. 38 J.Passmore, ‘Enthusiasm, Fanaticism and David Hume’, in Jones [11.99], 85–107. 39 For recent scholarship see Gaskin [11.113], ch. 8; Houston [11.116]; Jones [11.118], ch. 2; M.A.Stewart, ‘Hume’s Historical View of Miracles’, HHC, 171–200; D.Wootton, ‘Hume’s “Of Miracles” ’, SPSE, 191–229. 40 Locke, Essay, IV, xv–xvi. On ‘proportioning assent’, cf. E, no. 41 Hume is emulating the strategy adopted against transubstantiation by Tillotson, in a sermon ‘The Hazard of being Saved in the Church of Rome’. 42 E, 115n. 43 E, 56n., 115; cf. 127. 44 E, 122. Cf. George Campbell [11.21], 21–30. 45 Hume used similar tests, elsewhere, to appraise the claims to inspiration made on behalf of Joan of Arc and the claims to historical authenticity made on behalf of the Ossian forgeries. Another who felt the need to defeat whatever threatened established regularities was Pringle [11.58], who contested the evidence for meteorites. 46 E, 121, 129. 47 Carabelli [11.112], esp. ch. 3; M.Malherbe, ‘Hume and the Art of Dialogue’, HHC, 201–23; M.Pakaluk, ‘Philosophical Types in Hume’s Dialogues’, PSE, 116–32. 48 I owe these calculations to Ruth Evelyn Savage. 49 M.A.Stewart, ‘An Early Fragment on Evil’, HHC, 160–70. 50 Hume sometimes calls this minimal belief and the practice of virtue ‘true religion’. This is not a body of doctrine, or a practice of worship. The same lip-service to the traditional cosmological argument in Dialogues Part II is consistent with the speakers’ subsequent disagreement over the ‘demonstrative’ formulation of such an argument in Part IX. See M.A.Stewart, ‘Hume and the “Metaphysical Argument A Priori”’, in A.J.Holland (ed.), Philosophy, its History and Historiography, Dordrecht, Reidel, 1985, pp. 243–70; E.J.Khamara, ‘Hume versus Clarke on the Cosmological Argument’, Philosophical Quarterly 42 (1992): 34–55. 51 D, 45. Such associations were expressly repudiated by George Cheyne [11.23], 2, the Scottish Newtonian from whom Hume drew the description. 52 This formulation (D, 56) draws on another Scottish Newtonian, MacLaurin [11.53], 381, and foreshadows Reid [11.62], 460. 53 D, 47, 50, 52, 58, 68–71. Hurlbutt [11.117] has introduced an influential misunderstanding into Hume’s exegesis by suggesting a sense of ‘design’ in which the detection of design becomes a premise of the Design argument. This reduces it to triviality. The argument scrutinized by Hume takes as its premise the existence of a certain kind of order in nature, and seeks to show, by analogy, that order of this kind is evidence of design. 54 D, 62–6, 84–5. 55 D, 72–3, 78–9, 85–7. Cf. Hume’s account of polytheism, as a response to the diversity of phenomena, Natural History [11.42], 139. 56 D, 96–7, 102–3. This was always for Hume the main obstacle to theism; and as his correspondence with Hutcheson shows, he had problems understanding what it could mean, on his own secular analysis of morals, to ascribe virtues to the Deity. An alternative interpretation of the preponderance of pain is found in Baxter [11.6], who used it as evidence for a compensating immortality. 57 D, 119–21. 58 Hume himself disparaged one common application of this technique, the ‘contract’ theory of society. Dugald Stewart later recommended the practice as offering a truer insight into the nature of human institutions than a correctly documented narrative history. He called it ‘conjectural history’ and cited Hume’s Natural History as a paradigm. It is important to see, however, that Hume was speculating not on the first origins of religion, but on its recurrent origin in human nature, wherever it occurs. Cf. S.Evnine, ‘Hume, Conjectural History, and the Uniformity of Human Nature’, Journal of the History of Philosophy 31 (1993): 589–606; R.A.Segal, ‘Hume’s Natural History of Religion and the Beginning of the Social Scientific Study of Religion’, Religion 24 (1994): 225–34 59 A similar picture of historical religion is found in Hume’s History. See Bernard (above, n. 12). 60 Hume used the same tactic, ironically, in concluding his discussions of miracles and of immortality. 61 William Robertson, History of America, 1777, Historical Disquisition concerning the Knowledge which the Ancients had of India, 1791. In the appendix to the latter, Robertson’s depiction of the ‘Stoicism’ of the Brahmins has Humean echoes. 62 Hume, Essays [11.44], 590–98; Treatise [11.45], I. iv. 5. The essay is partly targeted against Joseph Butler’s Analogy of Religion, 1736. 63 Wright [11.123], §16. 64 Henry Home, Essays [11.39], 1st edn, 207–18. 65 Ibid., Pt I, essays 1–2. 66 He supports this by comparison of the different senses: because some involve contact with the object sensed and others do not, we have intuitive evidence of the distinction between perception and the object perceived. 67 Ibid., Pt II, essays 1–4, 7. For the Hume-Kames relationship, see Norton [11.120], ch. 4; Stewart, ‘Hume and the “Metaphysical Argument”’ (above, n. 50). 68 On this Society, see Ulman [11.54]. In spite of the occasionally acerbic rhetoric, several of his critics relished the challenges posed for them by Hume’s philosophy. For a wider view of Aberdeen philosophical activity, see Wood [11.106]; Wood, ‘Science and the Pursuit of Virtue in the Aberdeen Enlightenment’, SPSE, 127–49. The Aberdeen philosophers constituted a loosely knit fraternity with varied interests. The herding of them into a monolithic ‘school’ derives from later German and French commentary, but has its roots in Joseph Priestley’s Examination of Dr. Reid’s Inquiry, etc. of 1774. Priestley, an advocate of David Hartley’s materialism, castigated Reid, Beattie and Oswald as a reaction-ary coterie, cut off from the mainstream. Of these, James Oswald (1703–93), whose interests were predominantly theological, repudiated any association with Kames. 69 George Campbell [11.21], 14–16, 22, 18. 70 Ibid., 26, 33. 71 Ibid., 45, 72–7. 72 A fuller discussion of common sense occurs in Campbell [11.22], I. v. 3, where it is one of three sources of Intuitive evidence’ (evidentness). It is the basis upon which we recognize that whatever has a beginning has a cause, that where the parts of something serve a common end there was intelligence in the cause, and that there are other intelligent beings besides oneself. If we have not implicitly recognized these and other principles—the third is perhaps the most striking—we have nothing on which to base other knowledge. 73 Reid, Intellectual Powers, VI. vi (Works [11.62], 452–61). 74 Cf. Berkeley, Principles, §148. 75 P.B.Wood, ‘Hume, Reid and the Science of the Mind’, HHC, 119–30. 76 Beattie [11.10], 41, 142. Beattie left in manuscript a second, satirical, attack on scepticism. See King [11.107], ch. 5; E.C.Mossner, ‘Beattie’s “The Castle of Scepticism”’, Texas University Studies in English 27 (1948): 108–45. For a reassessment of the relation of Reid and Beattie to Hume, see Somerville [11.108]. 77 K.Haakonssen, ‘From moral philosophy to political economy’, PSE, 211–32. 78 Dugald Stewart [11.73], 1:441. For a searching critique of this reading of Hume, see Wright [11.123], ch. 4. 79 Stewart [11.73], 3:417–24. Cf. I.D.L.Clark, ‘The Leslie Controversy’, Records of the Scottish Church History Society 14 (1960–3): 179–97; J.G.Burke, ‘Kirk and Causality in Edinburgh, 1805’, Isis 61 (1970): 340–54; Carabelli [11.112], ch. 12. 80 Reid [11.62], 199. 81 Brown [11.12], 2nd edn (1806): 44–7, 51–5, 80, 94. 82 Another projected treatise on Berkeley has not been traced. 83 Shepherd [11.67], 33–4, 39–43, 28. 84 Shepherd [11.68], essay 8. 85 Ibid., ch. 2. 86 Reid, Active Powers, III. iii. 6 (Works [11.62], 590–1). A better picture of Reid’s substantive ethics is to be obtained from his manuscripts. See Practical Ethics [11.63], including Haakonssen’s substantial introduction. 87 Rowe [11.138]. 88 Smith [11.71]; Ferguson [11.28]. Hume, principally in his Essays [11.44], also worked on topics in political economy. See A.S.Skinner, ‘David Hume: Principles of Political Economy’, in D.F.Norton (ed.), Cambridge Companion to Hume, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1993, pp. 222–54. 89 Smith [11.72], I.i.1. For significant new scholarship on Smith the philosopher, see Skinner [11.146] and Jones [11.143], 90 Smith learnt from Hume the constructive role of the imagination in the workings of the mind For his application of this to scientific systems, see A. S.Skinner, ‘Adam Smith: Science and the Role of the Imagination’, in W.B. Todd (ed.), Hume and the Enlightenment, Edinburgh Edinburgh University Press, 1974, pp. 164–88; D.D.Raphael,’ “The True Old Humean Philosophy” and its Influence on Adam Smith’, in G.P.Morice (ed.), David Hume: BIBLIOGRAPHY (Asterisked titles are available in modern photographic reprints) Original Works 11.1 *Alison, Archibald Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste, 2 vols, Edinburgh 1790; 6th edn, 1825. 11.2 Arthur, Archibald Discourses on Theological and Literary Subjects, Glasgow, 1803. 11.3 [Balfour, James] A Delineation of the Nature and Obligation of Morality, Edinburgh, 1753; 2nd edn, 1763. 11.4*——Philosophical Dissertations, Edinburgh, 1782. 11.5[——] Philosophical Essays, Edinburgh, 1768. 11.6 *[Baxter, Andrew] An Enquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul, London, 1733; 3rd edn, 2 vols, 1745. Appendix, ed. J.Duncan, London, 1750. 11.7——The Evidence of Reason in Proof of the Immortality of the Soul, London, 1779. 11.8 *Beattie, James Dissertations, Moral and Critical, London, 1783. 11.9*——Elements of Moral Science, 2 vols, Edinburgh, 1790–3. 11.10*——An Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth, in Opposition to Sophistry and Scepticism, Edinburgh, 1770; 6th edn, 1777. 11.11 Brown, Thomas Lectures on the Philosophy of the Human Mind, 4 vols, Edinburgh, 1820. 11.12*——Observations on the Nature and Tendency of the Doctrine of Mr. Hume, concerning the Relation of Cause and Effect, Edinburgh, 1805; 3rd edn, retitled *Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect, 1818. 11.13 Brown, William Laurence An Essay on the Existence of a Supreme Creator, 2 vols, Aberdeen, 1816. 11.14——An Essay on the Folly of Scepticism, London, 1788. 11.15——An Essay on the Natural Equality of Men, Edinburgh, 1793. 11.16 Bruce, John Elements of the Science of Ethics, on the Principles of Natural Philosophy, Edinburgh, 1786. 11.17 [Burnett, James, Lord Monboddo] Antient Metaphysics, or the Science of Universals, 6 vols, Edinburgh, 1779–99. 11.18*[——] Of the Origin and Progress of Language, 6 vols, Edinburgh, 1773–92. 11.19 Campbell, Archibald An Enquiry into the Original of Moral Virtue, Edinburgh, 1733. (A pirated edition was issued by Alexander Innes, Westminster, 1728.) 11.20——The Necessity of Revelation, London, 1739. 11.21 *Campbell, George A Dissertation on Miracles, Edinburgh, 1762; 3rd edn, 1796. 11.22 *——The Philosophy of Rhetoric, London, 1776. 11.23 Cheyne, George Philosophical Principles of Religion, Natural and Revealed, London, 1715; 5th edn, 1736. 11.24 *Crombie, Alexander, An Essay on Philosophical Necessity, London, 1793. Bicentenary Papers, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1977, pp. 23–38. 11.25 Dudgeon, William Philosophical Works, n.p., 1765. 11.26 *Duff, William An Essay on Original Genius, and its Various Modes of Exertion in Philosophy and the Fine Arts, London, 1767. 11.27 Duncan, William Elements of Logick, London, 1748; 4th edn, 1759. 11.28 Ferguson, Adam An Essay on the Origin of Civil Society, ed. D.Forbes, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1966. 11.29 *——Principles of Moral and Political Science, 2 vols, Edinburgh, 1792. 11.30 [Fordyce, David] Dialogues concerning Education, London, 1745–8. 11.31 *——The Elements of Moral Philosophy, London, 1754. 11.32 Gerard, Alexander, Dissertations on Subjects relating to the Genius and the Evidences of Christianity, Edinburgh, 1766. 11.33 *——An Essay on Genius, London, 1774. 11.34 *——An Essay on Taste, London, 1759; 3rd edn, Edinburgh, 1780. 11.35——Plan of Education in the Marischal College and University of Aberdeen, with the Reasons of it, Aberdeen, 1755. 11.36 [Gregory, John] A Comparative View of the State and Faculties of Man, with those of the Animal World, London, 1765. 11.37 Halyburton, Thomas Natural Religion Insufficient, and Revealed Necessary to Man’s Happiness in his Present State, Edinburgh, 1714. 11.38 *[Home, Henry] Elements of Criticism, 3 vols, Edinburgh, 1762; 5th edn, 2 vols, 1774. 11.39 *[——] Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion, Edinburgh, 1751; 3rd edn, 1779. 11.40 *[——(ed.)] A Letter from a Gentleman to his Friend in Edinburgh, Edinburgh, 1745. 11.41 *[——] Sketches of the History of Man, 2 vols, Edinburgh, 1774. 11.42 Hume, David Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, and The Natural History of Religion, ed. J.C.A.Gaskin, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1993. 11.43——Enquiries concerning Human Understanding and concerning the Principles of Morals, ed. L.A.Selby-Bigge, rev. P.H.Nidditch, Oxford, Clarendon, 1975. 11.44——Essays, Moral, Political and Literary, ed. E.F.Miller, Indianapolis, Liberty Classics, 1985. 11.45——A Treatise of Human Nature, ed. L.A.Selby-Bigge, rev. P.H. Nidditch, Oxford, Clarendon, 1978. 11.46 *Hutcheson, Francis An Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections. With Illustrations on the Moral Sense, Dublin, 1728; 3rd edn, 1742. 11.47——On Human Nature, trans. and ed. T.Mautner, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1993. 11.48 *——An Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue; in Two Treatises, Dublin, 1725; 4th edn, 1738. 11.49 [Hutcheson] The Meditations of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus. Newly Translated from the Greek: With Notes, and an Account of his Life [by Francis Hutcheson and James Moor], Glasgow, 1742. 11.50 *——A System of Moral Philosophy, 2 vols, Glasgow, 1755. 11.51 Hutton, James An Investigation of the Principles of Knowledge and of the Progress of Reason, from Sense to Science and Philosophy, Edinburgh, 1794– 11.52 Jameson, William An Essay on Virtue and Harmony, wherein a Reconciliation of the Various Accounts of Moral Obligation is Attempted, Edinburgh, 1749. Kames, Lord, see Home, Henry. 11.53 *MacLaurin, Colin An Account of Sir Isaac Newton’s Philosophical Discoveries, London, 1748. 11.54 The Minutes of the Aberdeen Philosophical Society, ed. H.L.Ulman, Aberdeen, Aberdeen University Press, 1990. 11.55 Ogilvie, John An Inquiry into the Causes of the Infidelity and Scepticism of the Times, London, 1783. 11.56 [Oswald, James] An Appeal to Common Sense in Behalf of Religion, 2 vols, Edinburgh, 1766–72. 11.57 Porterfield, William ‘An Essay concerning the Motions of our Eyes: Part I’, in Medical Essays and Observations, Revised and Published by a Society in Edinburgh 3 (1735): 160–261. 11.58 Pringle, John ‘Some Remarks upon the several Accounts of the Fiery Meteor (which appeared on Sunday the 26th of November, 1758), and upon other such Bodies’, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society 51(1) (1759): 259–74. 11.59 Ramsay, Andrew Michael The Philosophical Principles of Natural and Revealed Religion, 2 vols, Glasgow, 1748–9. 11.60 Reid, Thomas ‘Of Common Sense’, ed. D.F.Norton, in Marcil-Lacoste [11.137], 179–208. 11.61 [Reid.] The Philosophical Orations of Thomas Reid, ed. D.D.Todd, trans. S.D.Sullivan, Carbondale, Ill., S.Illinois University Press, 1989. 11.62 *——Philosophical Works, ed. W.Hamilton, 8th edn, 2 vols, Edinburgh, 1895; repr., with introduction by H.M.Bracken, Hildesheim, Olms, 1967. 11.63——Practical Ethics, ed. K.Haakonssen, Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press, 1990. 11.64 [Reid.] Thomas Reid on the Animate Creation: Papers relating to the Life Sciences, ed. P.B.Wood, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1995. 11.65 Scott, Robert Eden, Elements of Intellectual Philosophy, Edinburgh, 1805. 11.66——Inquiry into the Limits and Peculiar Objects of Physical and Metaphysical Science, tending Principally to Illustrate the Nature of Causation, Edinburgh, 1810. 11.67 [Shepherd, Mary] An Essay upon the Relation of Cause and Effect, Controverting the Doctrine of Mr Hume, concerning the Nature of that Relation, London, 1824. 11.68——Essays on the Perception of an External Universe, and Other Subjects connected with the Doctrine of Causation, London, 1827. 11.69 [Simson.] A True and Authentic Copy of Mr. John Simson’s Letters to Mr. Robert Rowen, Late Minister at Penningham, Edinburgh, 1716. 11.70 Smith, Adam Essays on Philosophical Subjects, ed. W.P.D.Wightman et al., Oxford, Clarendon, 1980. 11.71——An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, ed. R.H.Campbell and A.S.Skinner, Oxford, Clarendon, 1976. 11.72——The Theory of Moral Sentiments [1759; 6th edn, 1790], ed. D.D. Raphael and A.L.Macfie, Oxford, Clarendon, 1976. 11.73 *Stewart, Dugald Collected Works, 11 vols, ed. W.Hamilton and J.Veitch, Edinburgh, 1854–60. 11.74 [Turnbull, George] Christianity neither False nor Useless, thonot as Old as the Creation, London, 1732. 11.75——A Discourse upon the Nature and Origin of Moral and Civil Laws; in which they are Deduced, by an Analysis of the Human Mind in the Experimental Way, from our Internal Principles and Dispositions, London, 1741. 11.76 [——] An Impartial Enquiry into the Moral Character of Jesus Christ, London, 1740. 11.77 [——]Justin’s History of the World translated into English. With a prefatory discourse…By a gentleman of the University of Oxford, London, 1742; 2nd edn, 1746. 11.78——Observations Upon Liberal Education, In all its Branches, London, 1742. 11.79——A Philosophical Inquiry concerning the Connection between the Doctrines and Miracles of Jesus Christ, London, 1726; 2nd edn, 1732; 3rd edn, 1739. 11.80 *——The Principles of Moral and Christian Philosophy, 2 vols, London, 1740. 11.81 *——A Treatise on Ancient Painting, London, 1740. Reprinted without plates, introd. V.M.Bevilacqua, München, Fink, 1971. 11.82 Wallace, George A System of the Principles of the Law of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1760. 11.83 Wallace, Robert The Regard Due to Divine Revelation, and to Pretences to it, Considered, London, 1731; 2nd edn, 1733. 11.84 *——Various Prospects of Mankind, Nature and Providence, London, 1761. 11.85 Wishart, William Discourses on Several Subjects, London, 1753. 11.86 [——] A Vindication of the Reverend D—B—y, from the Scandalous Imputation of being Author of a Late Book, Intitled, Alciphron, or, The Minute Philosopher, London, 1734. Secondary Works (There is not space to itemize individual articles of significance, many of which are included in the collections listed here, or can be traced through other references in the following books or in the preceding notes.) 11.87 Allan, D. Virtue, Learning and the Scottish Enlightenment, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1993. 11.88 *Bryson, G. Man and Society: The Scottish Inquiry of the Eighteenth Century, Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press, 1945. 11.89 Campbell, R.H. and Skinner, A.S. (eds) The Origins and Nature of the Scottish Enlightenment, Edinburgh, Donald, 1982. 11.90 Carter, J.J. and Pittock, J.H. (eds) Aberdeen and the Enlightenment, Aberdeen, Aberdeen University Press, 1987. 11.91 Davie, G.E. The Scottish Enlightenment and other Essays, Edinburgh, Polygon, 1991. 11.92——A Passion for Ideas, Edinburgh, Polygon, 1994. 11.93 *Grave, S.A. The Scottish Philosophy of Common Sense, Oxford, Clarendon, 1960. 11.94 Haakonssen, K. Natural Law and Moral Philosophy, from Grotius to the Scottish Enlightenment, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1995. 11.95 Hont, I. and Ignatieff, M. (eds) Wealth and Virtue: The Shaping of Political Economy in the Scottish Enlightenment, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1983. 11.96 Hope, V. (ed.) Philosophers of the Scottish Enlightenment, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1984. 11.97 *Jessop, T.E. A Bibliography of David Hume and of Scottish Philosophy from Francis Hutcheson to Lord Balfour, Hull, Brown, 1938. 11.98 Jones, P. (ed.) Philosophy and Science in the Scottish Enlightenment, Edinburgh, Donald, 1988. 11.99——The ‘Science of Man’ in the Scottish Enlightenment, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1989. 11.100 Kuehn, M. Scottish Common Sense in Germany, 1768–1800, Montreal and Kingston, McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1987. 11.101 *M’Cosh, J. The Scottish Philosophy, London, Macmillan, 1875. 11.102 Olson, R. Scottish Philosophy and British Physics, 1750–1830, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1975. 11.103 Sher, R.B. Church and University in the Scottish Enlightenment, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1985. 11.104 Stewart, M.A. (ed.) Studies in the Philosophy of the Scottish Enlightenment, Oxford, Clarendon, 1990. 11.105 Turco, L. Dal sistema al senso commune: Studi sul newtonismo e gli illuministi britannici, Bologna, Il mulino, 1974. 11.106 Wood, P.B. The Aberdeen Enlightenment: The Arts Curriculum in the Eighteenth Century, Aberdeen, Aberdeen University Press, 1993. Additional Secondary Works on Individuals <c podzagolovok>Beattie</cpz> 11.107 King, E.H. James Beattie, Boston, Massachusetts, Twayne, 1977. 11.108 Somerville, J.W.F. The Enigmatic Parting Shot, Aldershot, Avebury, 1995. <c podzagolovok>Ferguson</cpz> 11.109 Kettler, D. The Social and Political Thought of Adam Ferguson, Columbus, Ohio, Ohio State University Press, 1965. <c podzagolovok>Home (Kames)</cpz> 11.110 McGuinness, A.E. Henry Home, Lord Kames, New York, Twayne, 1970. 11.111 Ross, I.S. Lord Kames and the Scotland of his Day, Oxford, Clarendon, 1972. <c podzagolovok>Hume</cpz> (Select list: see also bibliographies to Chapters 6 and 7 above) 11.112 Carabelli, G. Hume e la retorica dell’ideologia, Firenze, La Nuova Italia, 1972. 11.113 Gaskin, J.C.A. Hume’s Philosophy of Religion, 2nd edn, London, Macmillan, 1988. 11.114 Hanson, D.J. Fideism and Hume’s Philosophy, New York, Lang, 1993. 11.115 Hester, M. (ed.) Hume’s Philosophy of Religion, Winston-Salem, N.Carolina, Wake Forest University Press, 1986. 11.116 Houston, J. Reported Miracles: A Critique of Hume, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1994. 11.117 Hurlbutt, R.H., III Hume, Newton, and the Design Argument, rev. edn, Lincoln, Nebraska, University of Nebraska Press, 1985. 11.118 Jones, P. Hume’s Sentiments, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1982. 11.119 Leroy, A. La Critique et la religion chez David Hume, Paris, Alcan, 1930. 11.120 Norton, D.F. David Hume: Common-Sense Moralist, Sceptical Metaphysician, Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press, 1982. 11.121 Penelhum, T. God and Skepticism, Dordrecht, Reidel, 1983. 11.122 Stewart, M.A. and Wright, J.P. (eds) Hume and Hume’s Connexions, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1994. 11.123 Wright, J.P. The Sceptical Realism of David Hume, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1983. 11.124 Yandell, K.E. Hume’s ‘Inexplicable Mystery’: His Views on Religion, Philadelphia, Temple University Press, 1990. <c podzagolovok>Hutcheson</cpz> 11.125 Blackstone, W.T. Francis Hutcheson and Contemporary Ethical Theory, Athens, Georgia, University of Georgia Press, 1965. 11.126 Leidhold, W. Ethik und Politik bei Francis Hutcheson, München, Alber, 1985. 11.127 MacIntyre, A.C. Whose Justice? Which Rationality? London, Duckworth, 1988. 11.128*Scott, W.R. Francis Hutcheson, his Life, Teaching and Position in the History of Philosophy, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1900. 11.129 Smyth, D. (ed.) Francis Hutcheson, Supplement to Fortnight 308, Belfast, 1992. <c podzagolovok>Oswald</cpz> 11.130 Ardley, G. The Common Sense Philosophy of James Oswald, Aberdeen, Aberdeen University Press, 1980. <c podzagolovok>Reid</cpz> 11.131 Barker, S.F. and Beauchamp, T.L. (eds) Thomas Reid: Critical Interpretations, Philadelphia, University City Science Center, 1976. 11.132 Dalgarno, M. and Matthews, H.E. (eds) The Philosophy of Thomas Reid, Dordrecht, Kluwer, 1989. 11.133*Daniels, N. Thomas Reids ‘Inquiry’: The Geometry of Visibles and the Case for Realism, New York, Franklin, 1974. 11.134 Gallie, R.D. Thomas Reid and ‘the Way of Ideas’, Dordrecht, Kluwer, 1989. 11.135 Lehrer, K.Thomas Reid, London, Routledge, 1989. 11.136 Manns, J.W. Reid and his French Disciples, Leiden, Brill, 1994. 11.137 Marcil-Lacoste, L. Claude Buffier and Thomas Reid, Two Common-sense Philosophers, Montreal and Kingston, McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1982. 11.138 Rowe, W.L. Thomas Reid on Freedom and Morality, Ithaca, NY, Cornell University Press, 1991. 11.139 Schulthess, D. Philosophie et sens commun chez Thomas Reid (1710–1796), Berne, Lang, 1983. <c podzagolovok>Smith</cpz> 11.140 Campbell, T.D. Adam Smith’s Science of Morals, London, Allen and Unwin, 1971. 11.141 Haakonssen, K. The Science of a Legislator, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1981. 11.142 Hope, V. Virtue by Consensus, Oxford, Clarendon, 1989. 11.143 Jones, P. and Skinner, A.S. (eds) Adam Smith Reviewed, Edinburgh, Edinburgh University Press, 1992. 11.144 Lightwood, M.B. A Selected Bibliography of Significant Works about Adam Smith, London, Macmillan, 1984. 11.145 Raphael, D.D. Adam Smith, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1985. 11.146 Skinner, A.S. and Wilson, T. (eds) Essays on Adam Smith, Oxford, Clarendon, 1975.

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