Most fortunately it happens, that since reason is incapable of dispelling these clouds, nature herself suffices to that purpose, and cures me of this philosophical melancholy and delirium, either by relaxing this bent of mind, or by some avocation, and lively impression of my senses, which obliterate all these chimeras. I dine, I play a game of backgammon, I converse, and am merry with my friends; and when after three or four hours' amusement, I would return to these speculations, they appear so cold, and strained, and ridiculous, that I cannot find in my heart to enter into them any farther.I said something about irony in the mock interview I wrote last August. (No, I wasn't being interviewed, yes, it was just me asking the questions.) In the 'interview' I spoke about the device of irony as way of maintaining a distance from one's audience. I tell my students, one-on-one, exactly what I think of the work they send me, no holds barred. Whereas, I don't know anything about you, the anonymous reader of these words. Everything I write for public consumption therefore has a dual aspect: I have one eye on the truth and the other eye on my performance. It's up to you to read between the lines.
David Hume A Treatise of Human Nature
But Humean philosophical irony works on a different level. This is for my benefit. I have other interests besides philosophy, there are other things that fill my life and give it point and purpose. (Nothing grand, just the average things that make up an average human life.) But while I am doing philosophy and only so long as I am doing philosophy nothing else exists. All the anguish and drama is confined to this tiny stage. That's 'Humean irony'. That's what David Hume is alluding to in the above passage, or, at least, how I read it. (I'm deliberately passing over Hume's agenda: to limit the pretensions of philosophy to make room for his new fangled 'theory of human nature'.)
I gave out the clue yesterday: Metaphysics is without consequences. That's why I'm no Stoic. Certainly no gloomy Existentialist. This is the pure stuff, uncut, 100 per cent. Metaphysics does not prostitute herself for any benefit, real or imagined. No Benthamite preacher, no Lockean underlabourer, no Kantian system builder, am I. Of all the labels, 'sorcerer's apprentice' is the one I like best.