In the philosophical writings of Hume, the great element is scepticism. He had many precursors in that sort of amusing speculation which tends to throw doubt over received opinions; and which, as a natural effect of human vanity, does so the more in regard to those notions which happen to be retained most generally and with the greatest confidence. But these limits did not satisfy the author of the Treatise of Human Nature. The drift of his philosophy is to prove, not only that nothing _is_ known, but that nothing _can_ be known; that the human race are shut up in the most entire ignorance, partly from the character of the objects around them, but mainly from the very framework and nature of the human understanding. Much ingenuity and acuteness was required to give any plausible appearance to a theory so contrary to the natural impressions of mankind, and Hume’s philosophical works afford evidence enough of the sort of talent necessary to his object. But he well knew, that however proper, and however felicitous it might be, to lay low the giant spirit of dogmatism by such means, his own conclusions, in every instance of importance, were hardly less dogmatic than those of his opponents, the principal difference being, that the sources of _his_ assumptions were somewhat more difficult to detect and expose. For what assumption can be greater than that of a right to believe in all unbelief? In this case, the very faculty that doubts must be a figment of vanity. The writer who determines to assail everything, forces on mankind a suspicion of caprice and insincerity, and is not likely to demolish anything. By attempting less, Hume would have accomplished more; and he would not then have called forth that array of philosophic power against himself, which has done so much damage to his reputation in this department of his labours. His miscellaneous Essays abound in valuable observations, and are fine models of English composition. The manner in which he met his death is the stock theme with the superficial, as illustrating the power of philosophy. But the man of reflection may perhaps see as much of the weakness of humanity in that event, as of the strength of philosophy; and certainly he will not need to be told, that nothing can be more delusive than the use generally made of such scenes.