"DEAR SIR,--I went, on Wednesday last, to be present at the examination

of the Abbé Choquart's school, with which I was very well satisfied;

especially for the part your young folks had in it. There were several

people present who came to hear their children and relations; and when

Gilbert was going through some demonstrations of geometry, with a very

good grace, I asked some who sat next me, whether they could perceive

him to be a foreigner? They all declared that they could not; and were

very much surprised when I told them that he had not yet been in the

country six months. Hugh retains still a little of a foreign accent, but

it is wearing out gradually. Mr. Liston speaks so well as to be able to

pass himself for a Gascon!

"There was also one circumstance of your young gentlemen's behaviour

with which I was much pleased; but whether you will take the praise of

it to yourself, or ascribe it partly to the imitation of French manners,

I cannot determine. I arrived a little before the commencement of the

examination; and, walking into the garden, I took shelter, from the

heat, under some trees. Your young gentlemen, as soon as they saw me,

ran and brought me a chair, which they placed carefully in the most

shady spot they could find. I doubt this attention would not be very

common among mere English schoolboys.

"Lord Hertford has received, from George Grenville, a final answer to a

very earnest, and very pressing letter he had wrote in my favour. Never

was any refusal so decisive, so cold, so positive, so determined; not

the least circumstance of apology, of good manners, or of regard: he

even gives it as a reason why I cannot be appointed, because Sir Charles

Bunbury has never yet desired to change his situation. In short, the

letter is so different from all letters usually wrote on such occasions,

and so different from those which Mr. Grenville was accustomed to write

to Lord Hertford, that my lord concludes there is some particular reason

of coldness, though he cannot conjecture what it is. But there are also,

in the letter, some expressions which mark extreme animosity against me.

Lord Hertford thinks, they will admit of another sense; and desires me

to write to you, in order to ask whether you have ever perceived such

sentiments in that gentleman. I know that I have affirmed, and, what is

worse, have proved, that Queen Elizabeth's maxims of government were

full as arbitrary as those of the Stuarts. I know that this proposition,

though now an undoubted and acknowledged truth, is contrary to the

principles of sound Whiggery. I know also, that Mr. Grenville, as a

sound Whig, bore me no good will on that account; but I did not really

think that his quarrel could have gone to such an extremity.[275:1] You

are sensible of the consequences which I apprehended, and which you did

not, last summer, think so dangerous as I imagined. I have now, for the

first time, explained to my lord the nature of my situation, which

somewhat surprised him, being so contrary to the assurances given him by

Mr. Grenville: but he told me that my interest was secure; for that he

thought himself obliged to make me reparation from his private fortune,

for any breach of faith which I might apprehend from the public. If this

point were fixed, it would probably stop the malignity of my enemies,

who will see that they can only do a small ill to Lord Hertford, instead

of a great one which they might intend against me. However, my lord

being desirous to know, from you, Mr. Grenville's sentiments, as far as

you can discover them, I am engaged to enter into this detail, which

otherwise I might have desired to avoid. I am, with great sincerity, my

dear sir, your most obedient servant."[275:2]

HUME _to_ MR. OSWALD.

"_Paris, 2d June, 1765._

"MY DEAR SIR,--There is a gentleman here, an Abbé, and a man of

letters, who is willing to enter into a commerce, or mutual exchange

with me, on every point of political and commercial knowledge.[276:1] He

has a great deal of very exact information, with regard to every thing

that concerns these subjects; has great freedom of thought and speech,

and has no connexions with any minister. As a sample, he has sent me the

enclosed questions, which I could not exactly answer, and is willing to

answer any of a like kind, which I could propose to him. I thought I

could not do better than transmit them to you; and as I know you will

also have questions to ask, I shall also transmit them to him, and you

may depend on his answer as just and solid. I have left the margin large

enough, to save you trouble. I know you are the most industrious and the

most indolent man of my acquaintance; the former in business, the latter

in ceremony. The present task I propose to you is of the former kind.

"You will hear that Sir Charles Bunbury is appointed Secretary for

Ireland. Lord Hertford thinks it absolutely certain, that I am to

succeed him; and I, too, think it very probable. My lord throws up

immediately, if this demand is not complied with; yet, notwithstanding

these favourable circumstances, I shall not be wonderfully surprised, in

case of a disappointment. I know that I can depend on your good offices

with Lord Halifax, and with every other person on whom you have

influence. Lord Hertford writes this post to that noble lord. The

present advantages I possess are so great, that it seems almost

extravagant to doubt of success; and yet, in general, it appears to me

almost incomprehensible how it should happen, that I, a philosopher, a

man of letters, nowise a courtier, of the most independent spirit, who

has given offence to every sect and every party, that I, I say, such as

I have described myself, should obtain an employment of dignity, and a

thousand a-year. This event is in general so strange, that I fancy, in

the issue, it will not have place. I am, dear sir, yours

sincerely."[277:1]

Hume had come to the conclusion, and certainly justly, that as he

performed the functions of secretary of the embassy in France, he ought

to possess the rank and emoluments of that office. He appears, however,

to have been reluctant to take any steps personally for the

accomplishment of this object; and his correspondence with his friends

shows that some urgency was necessary to overcome his scruples.[278:1]

Having, however, finally decided on his course, he appears to have

pursued it with great energy and perseverance, and to have moved every

influence through which he was likely to accomplish his end.

On 24th June, 1765, Hume writes to his brother that he "has now been

appointed secretary to the embassy, with the usual salary of £1200

a-year." He says, "The English ministry had intended not to appoint

another secretary of the embassy, who they knew could not be received,

but to suppress that office altogether from views of frugality." For the

continuance of the office, and its bestowal on himself, he seems to have

relied very much on the intervention of a foreign lady, his friend

Madame de Boufflers; and, strange as it may seem to find such an

influence effective in the councils of a British cabinet, he appears to

have been convinced that, had the matter not been previously settled in

his favour, her application would have brought it to a conclusion.

Continuing his letter to his brother, he says, "Nobody can do more

justice to the merit of my friend the Comtesse de Boufflers, than the

Duke and Duchess of Bedford, who have indeed been essentially obliged to

her in their family concerns. She wrote the duke about a fortnight ago,

that the time was now come, and the only time that probably would ever

come, of his showing his friendship to her, by assisting me in my

applications; and she would rest on this sole circumstance all his

professions of regard to her. He received her letter while in the

country, but he wrote her back, that he would immediately hasten to

town, and if he had any credit with the king or ministry, her

solicitations should be complied with. He is not a man that ever makes

vain professions, nor does he ever take a refusal. He would find the

matter finished when he came to London; but it is a sensible pleasure to

me, that I owe so great an obligation, to a person whom I love and

esteem so sincerely as that lady."[279:1]

In a letter to the Marquise de Barbantane, he gives the same account of

the matter.

"Have you heard of the share which Madame de Boufflers had in this

event? As soon as she heard that there was a vacancy, by means of the

promotion of Sir Charles Bunbury, my predecessor, she wrote to the Duke

of Bedford, entreating him, in the most earnest terms, to befriend me in

my pretensions, and setting all my claims in the most favourable light.

The duke answered her, that he would soon be in London; and if he had

any credit or authority with the ministry, her friend should not fail of

success. The duke is not a man that ever promises in vain, nor is he a

man that is ever to be refused; so that, from this interest alone, I was

sure to have prevailed. But happily the same post brought intelligence

to the ambassador, that the affair was already finished. But do you not

think, that I owe the same obligations to our friend? or will you tell

me, that I seek only a pretence for indulging my inclinations?"[280:1]

The statement is repeated in the following letter to Elliot.

HUME _to_ GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto_.

"_Paris, 3d June, 1765._

"MY DEAR SIR,--Not finding your young gentlemen in church last Sunday, I

went to see them, when I found them both confined to the house with a

light fever, which has since turned out the measles in form, but with

all the most favourable symptoms. I find Mr. Liston very attentive and

very careful; the young gentlemen are attended by the physician of the

academy. I use the freedom to tell Lady Hertford the way in which they

are governed; she tells me she would not act otherwise in the case of

her own children; so that Mrs. Murray,[281:1] if you please to

communicate to her this intelligence, can have no reason for anxiety.

Gilbert has a greater quantity than Hugh, and greater strength to bear

them.

"You know, I suppose, that I am appointed secretary to the embassy,

though I have not yet received my credential letter: the present

confusions in the court may perhaps retard them for some time; but Mr.

Grenville has informed the ambassador that the matter is concluded, and

the king has given his consent; so that in spite of Atheism and Deism,

of Whiggism and Toryism, of Scoticism and Philosophy, I am now possessed

of an office of credit, and of £1200 a-year: without dedication or

application, from the favour alone of a person, whom I can perfectly

love and respect. I find it has cost my lord a very hard pull; and when

I consider the matter alone, without viewing the steps that led to it, I

am sometimes inclined to be surprised how it has happened.

"Shall I tell you another circumstance that is not disagreeable to me; a

certain lady, who is at present in London, hearing there was some delay,

wrote in the most earnest terms to the Duke of Bedford, desiring his

interest in my favour; he answered her he would soon be in London, and

if he then possessed any credit or authority, she might depend upon the

success of her friend. You know that he is not a man that makes vain

professions, nor is he a man easy to be refused. If you guess the lady,

you will conclude that it will not cost me a great effort to be

grateful. The share you have also been pleased to take is not forgot,

and strengthens our ancient friendship. I am, my dear sir, yours

sincerely."[282:1]

It is probable that this appointment was impeded by more difficulties

than Hume himself could see, or his friends make him aware of. His being

a Scotsman of itself made it then unpopular, and in his case there were

other reasons likely to weigh with statesmen who looked in the direction

of popularity. We are told that "the printers of the _London Evening

Post and Gazetteer_, were called before the House of Lords, on a

complaint made by the Earl of Marchmont, for printing a letter (written

by Wilkes,) reflecting on the Earl of Hertford, ambassador at Paris, for

employing David Hume the historian as his secretary, and representing

the embassy as totally of Scotch complexion."[282:2]

No sooner had this appointment been completed, than Lord Hertford was

recalled, and Hume was left for a time chargé d'affaires at Paris.

The ambassador had been appointed by Lord Bute, but had chiefly acted

during the administration of Grenville, with whom he and his connexions

were not, as Hume's correspondence has shown, on very friendly terms. In

July, 1765, the Rockingham administration was formed, in connexion with

which Lord Hertford became lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and his brother

secretary of state with the leadership of the House of Commons. Hume had

thus to perform the functions of British representative until the Duke

of Richmond arrived as ambassador in October. Of the manner in which he

performed the duties of his office, Lord Brougham says:

By Lord Aberdeen's kindness I have been allowed to examine the

correspondence of the embassy with Marshal Conway during these

four months; and it is highly creditable to the philosopher's

business-like talents, and his capacity for affairs. The

negotiations of which he had the sole conduct related to the

important and interesting discussions of Canada; matters

arising out of the cession by the peace of Paris; and to the

demolition of the works at Dunkirk, also stipulated by that

treaty. His despatches, some of them of great length, most of

them in his own hand, are clearly and ably written. The course

which he describes himself as pursuing with the very slippery

and evasive ministers against whom he had to contend,

particularly the Duc de Praslin, appears to have been marked

by firmness and temper, as well as by quickness and sagacity.

His memorials, of which two or three are given, show a perfect

familiarity with diplomatic modes and habits, and they are

both well written and ably reasoned. His information must have

been correct; for he obtained a knowledge of the secret

proceedings of the assembly of clergy, which, though convoked

for the purpose of obtaining the usual _don gratuit_, chose to

enter upon the discussion of all the clerical grievances;

while they kept their deliberations carefully secret, and were

opposed by the parliament of Paris as soon as their

proceedings became known. Mr. Hume obtained a very early,

though somewhat exaggerated account of these things, through

two of the foreign ambassadors; and when he communicated it to

the Bishop of Senlis, he was treated with contempt, as if

nothing could be so wild, and as if some enemy of the church

had invented the fable to discredit her. Marshal Conway

appears by his despatches (which are also excellent) to have

rested his hopes of these differences passing off, on the

prevailing irreligious spirit in France, where "the Dauphin

alone," he says, "has any care for such matters; and he has of

late taken a military turn." In a short time the whole ferment

was allayed by the prudent and able conduct of Brienne,

Archbishop of Toulouse; the _don gratuit_ was voted; and the

assembly was prorogued to the following May. Mr. Hume praises

Brienne very highly on this, as indeed he did on all

occasions.[284:1]

Hume's familiar letters make us fully acquainted with the feelings he

experienced at this juncture.

HUME _to his Brother_.

"_Compiègne, 14th July, 1765._

"DEAR BROTHER,--There arrived yesterday a messenger from England with my

commission under the great seal. My appointments, as I told you, are

£1200 a-year. I have also £300 for my equipage, and three hundred ounces

of plate for my table. This is the fair side of the picture. The

misfortune is, that General Conway, the ambassador's brother, is

secretary of state. The Duke of Grafton, his nephew,[284:2] is the other

secretary. You still say, better and better. Not at all. My Lord

Hertford goes for England in a few days, and leaves the burden of the

embassy upon me. Still you say, where is the harm of all this? You are

come to years of discretion, and can govern yourself. Wait a little,

dear brother. Lord Hertford goes lord-lieutenant to Ireland, and there

is an end of the ambassador, and probably of the secretary.

"It is true I can count upon Lord Hertford's friendship as much as any

man's in the world. One day last spring, he came into my room, and told

me that he heard of many people who endeavoured by their caresses to

persuade me that I ought to remain in France. But he hoped that I would

embrace no scheme of life which would ever separate him and me. He now

loved me as much as ever he esteemed me, and wished we might pass our

lives together. He had resolved several times to have opened his breast

so far to me; but being a man of few words and no professions, he had

still delayed it, and he now felt himself much relieved by this

declaration of his desires and intentions. I know that Lord Hertford

will not go to Ireland unless he be allowed to name the secretary for

that kingdom. Perhaps he may think his son, Lord Beauchamp, too young

for that office; in which case I may very probably expect it, and it is

an office of between £3000 and £4000 a-year, and stands next in dignity

to all the great offices of the state. In all cases the lord-lieutenant

for Ireland has many and great things to give, of which I should

certainly expect one.

"Still you say, this is all better and better: Not at all! You know the

fluctuation of English politics. Perhaps, before you receive this, the

whole present system is overturned. Lord Hertford, who, while he

remained here, was a man of no party, is involved with his friends. All

is turned topsy-turvy: and before next winter, perhaps, I am at your

fireside without office or employment! Here, indeed, I allow you to say,

so much the better; for I never had much ambition, I mean for power and

dignities, and I am heartily cured of the little I had. I believe a

fireside and a book the best things in the world for my age and

disposition. I write in some hurry, therefore can only add, that if the

old ministry return, I can look upon the Duke of Bedford alone as my

friend, by means of the lady I mentioned to you. If the ministry stand,

I have, by Lord Hertford's means, many and great friends; and the king,

I have been well assured, honours me particularly with his good opinion.

In all cases it is a great point for me to have obtained this commission

to a place of so much trust and credit and silences all objections

against me, whether they arose from religion or politics. Direct your

letters to me as _Secrétaire d'Ambassade d'Angleterre à Paris_. I hate

any thing that disturbs so agreeable a settlement as I had obtained

before these great events. My compliments to Mrs. Home and to Katy. Keep

this letter to yourself, but write part of it to our sister."[286:1]

HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.

"_Compiègne, 20th July, 1765._

"Tell Dr. Robertson that the Dauphin asked Mr. Hume several questions

the other day, about him and his History. That prince seems a reasonable

man, but would be the better of being _roasted_ sometimes in _The

Poker_.[286:2] If they will elect him a member, Mr. Hume will propose it

to him.[286:3] What does the doctor say at present to these great

folding doors opened to all the chimeras of ambition? Alas! they may be

thrown open much wider, if possible; none of these chimeras will enter.

Philosophy, with her severe brows, guards the passage; while Indolence,

in affright, is ready to throw herself out at the window. Mr. Hume

recommends himself to Ferguson and Jardine, and John Adams and Mrs.

Adams, and to all the Poker, and desires the prayers of the faithful

for him on this occasion."

Hume had now actually before him the prospect of filling the high office

of secretary to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland. Writing to his brother

on 4th August, 1765, he again states that Lord Hertford, before his

departure, had assured him that he would not accept of the

lord-lieutenancy, unless he were allowed the naming of the secretary;

and now adds, that the office is destined for himself, in conjunction

with Lord Hertford's son, Lord Beauchamp; and that his own salary is to

be about £2000 a-year. He continues:

"Thus you see a splendid fortune awaits me: Yet you cannot imagine with

what regret I leave this country. It is like stepping out of light into

darkness, to exchange Paris for Dublin. The most agreeable circumstance

is the friendship and confidence of the lord-lieutenant; and if the

present credit of that family continue, as it is likely to do, I shall

probably have it in my power to do service to my friends--particularly

to your young folks; for as to you and myself, it is long since we

thought our fortunes entirely made."[287:1]

He was not, however, destined to fill this office; and neither he

himself, nor his best friends, appear to have regretted the

circumstance; the fact being that he was but slenderly endowed with

either of the qualifications then indispensable to an Irish

statesman,--a capacity for hard drinking, and adroitness in bold

political intrigues. The exercise of an official function, among a

people where one sect of Christians enjoyed all offices, emoluments, and

honours, while another, following the national religion, were scarcely

allowed to live, must have shocked his sense of political justice;

while it may be questioned if he was a sufficiently bold politician to

have attempted any reform of this abuse. The project of his appointment,

however, was brought so near its consummation, as to elicit certain

applications for ecclesiastical preferment, in order that the reputation

he had achieved, in other places, for influence in this department of

patronage, might not be unacknowledged in Ireland.[288:1]

In his letters to his friends, at this time, he describes these

vicissitudes of fortune; and indulges in a feeling to which he was very

prone,--an uncertainty as to his future projects, and an indolent

disinclination to make up his mind how to act.

HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.

"_Paris, 23d August, 1765._

"All the literati of my friends, who understand English, think your

Dissertation one of the finest performances in our language. A

gentleman, of my acquaintance, has translated it for his own

satisfaction. He could not publish it without publishing "Ossian" at the

same time. My scepticism extends no farther, nor ever did, than with

regard to the extreme antiquity of those poems; and it is no more than

scepticism.

"You may, perhaps, have heard of the rapid whirl of my fortune

backwards and forwards of late. I had scarce received my commission, as

secretary to the embassy, when I knew that that situation, the most

agreeable in which I could have been placed, was not to last. Lord

Hertford must go to Ireland, and resolved to carry me over as secretary

to that kingdom, in conjoint commission with his son. On his arrival at

London, he found the cry so loud against the promotion of Scotsmen, that

he was obliged to give it up; which he did the more easily, as he knew

my great reluctance to that office and scene of life. He has now got a

pension of £400 a-year settled on me; and as he has prepared an

apartment for me in the castle of Dublin, I shall hurry thither as soon

as I leave France, and shall be afterwards free for the rest of my

life.[289:1] I have not determined where I shall pass my latter days.

This place should be the most agreeable to me; but a man who came late

thither, and who is not supported by family connexions, may, perhaps,

find himself misplaced, even in this centre of letters and good society.

I have a reluctance to think of living among the factious barbarians of

London; who will hate me because I am a Scotsman, and am not a Whig, and

despise me because I am a man of letters. My attachment to Edinburgh

revives as I turn my face towards it."[290:1]

HUME _to his Brother_.

"DEAR BROTHER,--I am now to inform you of another pretty rapid change in

my fortune. Lord Hertford, on his arrival in London, found great

difficulty of executing his intentions in my favour. The cry is loud

against the Scots; and the present ministry are unwilling to support any

of our countrymen, lest they bear the reproach of being connected with

Lord Bute. For this reason, Lord Hertford departed from his project;

which he did the more readily, as he knew I had a great reluctance to

the office of secretary for Ireland; which requires a talent for

speaking in public, to which I was never accustomed. I must also have

kept a kind of open house, and have drunk and caroused with the Irish, a

course of living to which I am as little accustomed. The Duke of

Bedford, to whom I mentioned these objections, thought them very solid.

I think myself, at present, much better provided for, by a pension of

£400 a-year for life, which Lord Hertford has procured me. He also

writes me, that an apartment is fitting up for me in the castle of

Dublin. I shall go thither as soon as I can leave France; which will not

be till the end of October or beginning of November, on the arrival of

the Duke of Richmond. Meanwhile, I am _Chargé des affaires d'Angleterre

à la cour de France_, which is the title under which you must write to

me, if you favour me with a letter.

"Lord Hertford had another additional project for my advantage, in

Ireland. The keeper of the black rod is a very genteel office, which

yields about £900 during the session. He proposed, as I cannot be

present on the opening of the parliament, to give that office to

another, who would officiate, and would be content with £300. But I

declined this offer; not as unjust, but as savouring of greediness and

rapacity.[291:1]

"Please to write all these particulars to Katty, except the last, and

seal and send her the enclosed. I am charmed with the accounts I hear of

Josey, from all hands. Yours sincerely.

"There was a kind of fray in London, as I am told, upon Lord Hertford's

declaring his intentions in my favour. The Princess Amelia said, that

she thought the affair might be easily accommodated: why may not Lord

Hertford give a bishopric to Mr. Hume?"[292:1]

Writing an account of these transactions to Smith, in nearly the same

words, on 5th November, he commences his letter with the observation, "I

have been whirled about lately in a strange manner; but, besides that

none of the revolutions have ever threatened me much, or been able to

give me a moment's anxiety, all has ended very happily, and to my mind."

He concludes thus:--

"As a new vexation to temper my good fortune, I am much in perplexity

about fixing the place of my future abode for life. Paris is the most

agreeable town in Europe, and suits me best; but it is a foreign

country. London is the capital of my own country; but it never pleased

me much. Letters are there held in no honour: Scotsmen are hated:

superstition and ignorance gain ground daily. Edinburgh has many

objections, and many allurements. My present mind, this forenoon, the

5th of September, is to return to France. I am much pressed here to

accept of offers, which would contribute to my agreeable living; but

might encroach on my independence, by making me enter into engagements

with princes, and great lords, and ladies. Pray give me your judgment.

"I regret much I shall not see you. I have been looking for you every

day these three months. Your satisfaction in your pupil gives me equal

satisfaction."[293:1]

He writes to Blair, on 28th December:--

"DEAR DOCTOR,--After great wavering and uncertainty, between Paris and

Edinburgh, (for I never allowed London to enter into the question,) I

have, at last, fixed my resolution to remain some time longer in Paris.

Perhaps I may take a trip to Rome next autumn. Had I returned to

Edinburgh, I was sensible that I shut myself up, in a manner, for life;

and I imagine that I am, even yet, too young and healthy, and in too

good spirits, to come to that determination. If you please, therefore,

you may continue in my house, which I am glad pleases you. If you leave

it, as you thought you would, Nairne may have it for £35, as we

agreed."[293:2]

We have now to return to Jean Jacques Rousseau, whom we left, in 1762,

seeking protection from the Earl Marischal at Neufchâtel. He finally

took up his abode at Motiers Travers, a village on one of the passes of

the Jura; where, now that some offensive associations connected with his

character and writings have died away, the fame of his genius still

lives, and has been no unprofitable commodity to the inhabitants. Here

he had a wild rocky district to wander over, where he was not liable to

encounter those dangerous impediments which beset the sojourners in the

Alps. He had, at the same time, what was more to his purpose, a zealous

priesthood and an intolerant populace surrounding him. That the outward

manifestations of a morality, odious to his new neighbours, might not be

wanting, he sent for his celebrated mistress, Thérèse la Vasseur, with

whom he continued openly to live; and that the populace, thus

exasperated, might be under no mistake as to the proper person to throw

stones at, he adopted the garb of an Armenian.

It is much disputed whether he was really subjected to the attacks of

which he afterwards complained; and it is said, that whatever tangible

evidence of them was perceptible to other eyes than his own, was the

doing of Mademoiselle la Vasseur, to drive him from a neighbourhood

which she disliked. It will be found, however, that his story, as

reported by Hume in the letters which follow, substantially coincides

with the narrative in the "Confessions." This is in some measure a

testimony to the sincerity of Rousseau's own conviction, that those

hostile efforts were made against him; and indeed it would be useless to

question the sincerity of his belief in any thing indicative of the

malevolence of his fellow-beings. Having fled from Motiers, he lived for

some time on the island of St. Pierre, in the lake of Bienne; and,

driven from that asylum, he seems to have hesitated between England and

Prussia as a place of refuge. He left the State of Bienne at the date at

which his "Confessions" terminate, 29th October, 1765. He proceeded to

Strasburg, where, by wearing his Armenian dress in the country where he

had been proscribed, he certainly excited a considerable sensation. He

appears to have held a sort of levée during his residence in that city,

where his daily and hourly proceedings have been recorded with the

precision of a court journal.[295:1]

It was here that he received Hume's letter, agreeing to aid him in

finding an asylum in England. The negotiation between them had been

brought to a conclusion by Madame de Verdelin, who had spent some time

with Rousseau at Motiers, and persuaded him to take advantage of the

impression which the Earl Marischal and Madame de Boufflers had made in

his favour.[295:2]

Hume's heart was farther softened by a letter, full of miseries, which

Rousseau had written to M. Clairaut. "I must own," says Hume, "I felt on

this occasion an emotion of pity, mixed with indignation, to think a man

of letters of such eminent merit, should be reduced, in spite of the

simplicity of his manner of living, to such extreme indigence; and that

this unhappy state should be rendered more intolerable by sickness, by

the approach of old age, and the implacable rage of persecution." He was

inclined even to sympathize with Rousseau's petulant rejection of

proferred kindness; conceiving "that a noble pride, even though carried

to excess, merited some indulgence in a man of genius, who, borne up by

a sense of his own superiority, and a love of independence, should have

braved the storms of fortune and the insults of mankind."[296:1]

Leaving Strasburg, the wanderer proceeded to Paris, where he went about

in his Armenian dress; was mobbed and stared at to his heart's content,

wrote to his friends, complaining with bitter eloquence that people

would allow him neither solitude nor rest, shut himself up, and went

forth again to the world. Before he could have ventured to appear so

publicly, in the capital where a writ had been issued for the seizure of

his person, he must have received very strong assurances of protection.

The arrêt of the Parliament, however, was not recalled; and his friends

must have felt somewhat provoked by his pertinacious courtship of

popular notice, accompanied by the pretence of a desire to avoid it, by

adopting only what was simple and natural--by wearing, for instance, so

simple a dress as the fur cap, caaftan, and vest of an Armenian, in the

streets of Paris! Hume, who seems really to have had faith in his

modesty, must still have felt it awkward that the representative of

Britain should be closely allied with a person so conducting himself;

and was anxious, whenever the state of public business might permit him,

to see his charge safely across the Channel. It was thought, in the

meantime, expedient to find for Rousseau an asylum within the

privileged area of the Temple, of which his friend, the Prince of

Conti, was Grand Prior. We must now allow Hume himself to describe his

new companion, and their intercourse.

In continuation of the letter to Blair, of 20th December, above cited,

he says:

HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.

"I must, however, be in London very soon, in order to give an account of

my commission; to thank the King for his goodness to me, and to settle

the celebrated Rousseau, who has rejected invitations from half of the

kings and princes of Europe, in order to put himself under my

protection. He has been at Paris about twelve days; and lives in an

apartment prepared for him by the Prince of Conti, which, he says, gives

him uneasiness, by reason of its magnificence. As he was outlawed by the

Parliament, it behoved him to have the King's passport, which was at

first offered him under a feigned name; but his friends refused it,

because they knew that he would not submit even to that falsehood. You

have heard that he was banished from Neufchâtel by preachers, who

excited the mob to stone him.

"He told me that a trap was laid for him, with as much art as ever was

employed against a fox or a polecat. In the night-time a great enormous

stone was suspended above the door, in such a manner, that on opening it

in the morning, the stone must have fallen and have crushed him to

death.[297:1] A man passing by early, perceived it, and called in to him

at the window to be on his guard. He also told me, that last spring,

when he went about the mountains amusing himself with botany, he came to

a village at some distance from his own: a woman met him, who, surprised

at his Armenian dress--for he wears, and is resolved to wear that habit

during life--asked him what he was, and what was his name. On hearing it

she exclaimed, 'Are you that impious rascal, Rousseau? Had I known it, I

should have waited for you at the end of the wood, with a pistol, in

order to blow out your brains.' He added, that all the women in

Switzerland were in the same disposition, because the preachers had told

them that he had wrote books to prove that women had no souls. He then

turned to Madame de Boufflers, who was present, and said,--Is it not

strange that I, who have wrote so much to decry the morals and conduct

of the Parisian ladies, should yet be beloved by them; while the Swiss

women, whom I have so much extolled, would willingly cut my throat? 'We

are fond of you,' replied she, 'because we know that, however you might

rail, you are at bottom fond _of us_ to distraction. But the Swiss women

hate you, because they are conscious that they have not merit to deserve

your attention.'

"On leaving Neufchâtel, he took shelter in a little island about half a

league in circumference, in the midst of a lake near Berne. There lived

in it only one German peasant, with his wife and sister. The council of

Berne, frightened for his neighbourhood, on account of his democratic

more than his religious principles, ordered him immediately to withdraw

from their state. He wrote the letter of which I send you a copy, as it

is very curious. The council, in answer, reiterated their orders for him

to begone. He then applied to me. I have made an agreement with a

French gardener in Fulham for boarding him. We set out together in a few

days.

"It is impossible to express or imagine the enthusiasm of this nation in

his favour. As I am supposed to have him in my custody, all the world,

especially the great ladies, tease me to be introduced to him. I have

had rouleaus thrust into my hand, with earnest applications that I would

prevail on him to accept of them. I am persuaded that, were I to open

here a subscription with his consent, I should receive £50,000 in a

fortnight. The second day after his arrival, he slipped out early in the

morning to take a walk in the Luxembourg gardens. The thing was known

soon after. I am strongly solicited to prevail on him to take another

walk, and then to give warning to my friends. Were the public to be

informed, he could not fail to have many thousand spectators. People may

talk of ancient Greece as they please; but no nation was ever so fond of

genius as this, and no person ever so much engaged their attention as

Rousseau. Voltaire and every body else are quite eclipsed by him.

"I am sensible that my connexions with him add to my importance at

present. Even his maid La Vasseur, who is very homely and very awkward,

is more talked of than the Princess of Morocco or the Countess of

Egmont, on account of her fidelity and attachment towards him. His very

dog, who is no better than a collie, has a name and reputation in the

world. As to my intercourse with him, I find him mild, and gentle, and

modest, and good humoured; and he has more the behaviour of a man of the

world, than any of the learned here, except M. de Buffon; who, in his

figure, and air, and deportment, answers your idea of a marechal of

France, rather than that of a philosopher. M. Rousseau is of a small

stature, and would rather be ugly, had he not the finest physiognomy in

the world: I mean the most expressive countenance. His modesty seems not

to be good manners, but ignorance of his own excellence. As he writes,

and speaks, and acts, from the impulse of genius, more than from the use

of his ordinary faculties, it is very likely that he forgets its force

whenever it is laid asleep. I am well assured that at times he believes

he has inspirations from an immediate communication with the Divinity.

He falls sometimes into ecstasies, which retain him in the same posture

for hours together. Does not this example solve the difficulty of

Socrates' genius, and of his ecstasies? I think Rousseau in many things

very much resembles Socrates. The philosopher of Geneva seems only to

have more genius than he of Athens, who never wrote any thing, and less

sociableness and temper. Both of them were of very amorous complexions;

but a comparison in this particular, turns out much to the advantage of

my friend. I call him such, for I hear, from all hands, that his

judgment and affections are as strongly biassed in my favour as mine are

in his. I shall much regret leaving him in England; but even if a pardon

could be procured for him here, he is resolved, as he tells me, never to

return; because he never will again be in the power of any man. I wish

he may live unmolested in England. I dread the bigotry and barbarism

which prevail there.

"When he came to Paris, he seemed resolved to stay till the 6th or 7th

of next month. But at present the concourse about him gives him so much

uneasiness that he expresses the utmost impatience to be gone. Many

people here will have it that this solitary humour is all affectation,

in order to be more sought after; but I am sure that it is natural and

unsurmountable:[301:1] I know that two very agreeable ladies breaking in

upon him, discomposed him so much that he was not able to eat his dinner

afterwards. He is short-sighted; and I have often observed, that while

he was conversing with me in the utmost good-humour, (for he is

naturally gay,) if he heard the door open, the greatest agony appeared

on his countenance, from the apprehension of a visit; and his distress

did not leave him, unless the person was a particular friend. His

Armenian dress is not affectation. He has had an infirmity from his

infancy, which makes breeches inconvenient for him; and he told me, that

when he was chased into the mountains of Switzerland, he took up this

new dress, as it seemed indifferent what habit he there wore. I could

fill a volume with curious anecdotes regarding him, as I live in the

same society which he frequented while in Paris. But I must not exhaust

your patience. My kind compliments to Ferguson, Robertson, and all the

brethren. I am," &c.

"_Paris, 28th Dec. 1765._"

"P.S.--Be not surprised that I am going to say in my postscript, the

direct contrary to what I said in my letter. There are four days of

interval between my writing the one and the other; and on this subject

of my future abode, I have not these four months risen and gone to bed

in the same mind. When I meet with proofs of regard and affection from

those I love and esteem here, I swear to myself that I shall never quit

this place. An hour after, it occurs to me that I have then for ever

renounced my native country and all my ancient friends, and I start with

affright. I never yet left any place but with regret: judge what it is

natural for me to feel on leaving Paris, and so many amiable people with

whom I am intimately connected, while it is in my power to pass my life

in the midst of them. Were I not indispensably obliged to go to London,

I know that it would be impossible for me to leave this place. But it is

very probable that being once there, and fairly escaped from the cave of

Circe, I may reconcile myself again to the abode of Ithaca. I left

Edinburgh with great reluctance. To return to it, after having tripled

my revenue in less than three years, can be no hardship. I must,

therefore, fairly warn you to remove from my house at Whitsunday. I have

taken a house at Paris; but I will have one also in Edinburgh, and shall

deliberate in London which of them I shall occupy. I shall not go to

Ireland. The arrival of the Duke of Richmond was late; and this

engagement with M. Rousseau protracts my return so long, that it will

not be worth while to go to Dublin. Lord Hertford has been so good as to

excuse me. You have heard of the great fortune of Trail, who is, I

believe, your acquaintance, and a very honest fellow. Nothing is so

agreeable to an irresolute man, says the Cardinal de Retz, as a measure

which dispenses him from taking an immediate resolution. I am exactly in

the case. I hope your resigning my house will be no hardship to

you."[303:1]

Hume, Rousseau, and M. de Luze of Geneva, a friend of the fugitive, left

France early in January 1766. We have no account of their arrival,

except Rousseau's statement in a letter to Malesherbes, that whenever he

set foot on the land of liberty, he leaped on his illustrious friend's

neck, embraced him without uttering a word, and covered his face with

kisses and tears; a ceremony with which Hume would probably have

dispensed, in the presence of "the barbarians who inhabit the banks of

the Thames." The first notice of their sojourn in Britain, is in a

bulletin by Hume to Madame de Boufflers, dated London, 19th January,

1766. He says,--

My companion is very amiable, always polite, gay often,

commonly sociable. He does not know himself when he thinks he

is made for entire solitude. I exhorted him on the road to

write his memoirs. He told me, that he had already done it

with an intention of publishing them.

At present, says he, it may be affirmed, that nobody knows me

perfectly, any more than himself; but I shall describe myself

in such plain colours, that henceforth every one may boast

that he knows himself, and Jean Jacques Rousseau. I believe,

that he intends seriously to draw his own picture in its true

colours: but I believe, at the same time, that nobody knows

himself less. For instance, even with regard to his health, a

point in which few people can be mistaken, he is very

fanciful. He imagines himself very infirm. He is one of the

most robust men I have ever known. He passed ten hours in the

night-time, above deck, during the most severe weather, when

all the seamen were almost frozen to death, and he caught no

harm. He says that his infirmity always increases upon a

journey; yet was it almost imperceptible on the road from

Paris to London.

His wearing the Armenian dress is a pure whim; which, however,

he is resolved never to abandon. He has an excellent warm

heart; and, in conversation, kindles often to a degree of heat

which looks like inspiration. I love him much, and hope that I

have some share in his affections.

I find that we shall have many ways of settling him to his

satisfaction; and as he is learning the English very

fast,[304:1] he will afterwards be able to choose for himself.

There is a gentleman of the name of Townsend, a man of four or

five thousand a-year, who lives very privately, within fifteen

miles of London, and is a great admirer of our philosopher, as

is also his wife. He has desired him to live with him, and

offers to take any board he pleases. M. Rousseau was much

pleased with this proposal, and is inclined to accept of it.

The only difficulty is, that he insists positively on his

gouvernante's sitting at table,--a proposal which is not to be

made to Mr. and Mrs. Townsend.

This woman forms the chief encumbrance to his settlement. M.

de Luze, our companion, says, that she passes for wicked and

quarrelsome, and tattling; and is thought to be the chief

cause of his quitting Neufchâtel. He himself owns her to be so

dull, that she never knows in what year of the Lord she is,

nor in what month of the year, nor in what day of the month or

week; and that she can never learn the different value of the

pieces of money in any country. Yet she governs him as

absolutely as a nurse does a child. In her absence his dog has

acquired that ascendant. His affection for that creature is

beyond all expression or conception.

I have as yet scarce seen any body except Mr. Conway and Lady

Aylesbury.[305:1] Both of them told me, they would visit Jean

Jacques, if I thought their company would not be disagreeable.

I encouraged them to show him that mark of distinction.[305:2]

Here I must also tell you of a good action which I did; not

but that it is better to conceal our good actions. But I

consider not my seeking _your_ approbation as an effect of

vanity: your suffrage is to me something like the satisfaction

of my own conscience. While we were at Calais, I asked him

whether, in case the King of England thought proper to gratify

him with a pension, he would accept of it. I told him, that

the case was widely different from that of the King of

Prussia; and I endeavoured to point out to him the difference,

particularly in this circumstance, that a gratuity from the

King of England could never in the least endanger his

independence. He replied: "But would it not be using ill the

King of Prussia, to whom I have since been much obliged?

However, on this head (added he,) in case the offer be made

me, I shall consult my father;" meaning Lord Marischal.[306:1]

I told this story to General Conway, who seemed to embrace

with zeal the notion of giving him a pension, as honourable

both to the king and nation. I shall suggest the same idea to

other men in power whom I may meet with, and I do not despair

of succeeding.

P. S.--Since I wrote the above, I have received your obliging

letter, directed to Calais. M. Rousseau says, the letter of

the King of Prussia is a forgery; and he suspects it to come

from M. de Voltaire.[306:2]

The project of Mr. Townsend, to my great mortification, has

totally vanished, on account of Mademoiselle Le Vasseur. Send

all his letters under my cover.[307:1]

Hume writes again on the 12th, to state that he has succeeded in

obtaining the promise of a pension from the king: "You know," he says,

"that our sovereign is extremely prudent and decent, and careful not to

give offence. For which reason, he requires that this act of generosity

may be an entire secret." He states, that this information must be kept

to herself and the Prince of Conti: and she in her answer, admires

Hume's generous and delicate conduct, and promises to keep the secret.

In his postscript Hume announces the important fact, that Mademoiselle

le Vasseur had arrived, and had found a companion to whom such a rag of

celebrity was no small acquisition.

"P.S.--Since I wrote the above, I have seen General Conway, who tells me

that the king has spoke to him on the same subject, and that the sum

intended is a hundred pounds a-year: a mighty accession to our friend's

slender revenue.

"A letter has also come to me open from Guy the bookseller, by which I

learn that Mademoiselle sets out post, in company with a friend of mine,

a young gentleman, very good-humoured, very agreeable--and very mad! He

visited Rousseau in his mountains, who gave him a recommendation to

Paoli, the King of Corsica; where this gentleman, whose name is Boswell,

went last summer, in search of adventures. He has such a rage for

literature, that I dread some event fatal to our friend's honour. You

remember the story of Terentia, who was first married to Cicero, then to

Sallust, and at last, in her old age, married a young nobleman, who

imagined that she must possess some secret, which would convey to him

eloquence and genius."[308:1]

Soon after, we find Hume writing as follows:--

HUME _to his Brother_.

"_London, 2d February, 1766._

"As you know that I never left any place without regret, you may imagine

that I did not leave Paris altogether willingly, after having been so

long accustomed to it. I do not find this new scene near so much to my

taste; and I shall be long ere I am reconciled to it. Perhaps Edinburgh

may please me better; I promise myself at least some satisfaction in my

nephews, of whom I hear a very good account; and it is surely more

suitable to one of my years to seek a retreat in my native country, than

to pass the dregs of life among the great, and among people who, though

they seem to have a friendship for me, are still strangers. I accustom

myself, therefore, to this idea without reluctance; and since I have

crossed the seas, I find my regret for the good company I left behind

me, less pungent and uneasy. . . . .

"You will have heard by this time, that I have brought over with me the

famous Rousseau, the most singular man, surely, in the world. He applied

to me last summer to take him under my protection in England, as he

called it; but in the meanwhile, he was chased out of Switzerland, and

came to Strasburg, with an intention of going to the King of Prussia,

who pressed him earnestly to live with him. At Strasburg my letter

reached him, making him an offer of all my services; upon which he

turned short, and having obtained the King of France's passport, came

and joined me at Paris. I have lived with him ever since. He is a very

modest, mild, well-bred, gentle-spirited, and warm-hearted man, as ever

I knew in my life. He is also to appearance very sociable. I never saw a

man who seems better calculated for good company, nor who seems to take

more pleasure in it. Yet is he absolutely determined to retire and board

himself in a farmer's house among the mountains of Wales, for the sake

of solitude. He has refused a pension from the King of Prussia, and

presents from hundreds. I have been offered great sums for him, if I

could have prevailed on him to accept of them. Yet, till within these

three months, he was in absolute beggary. He has now about £70

a-year?[309:1] which he has acquired by a bargain for his works. It is

incredible the enthusiasm for him in Paris, and the curiosity in London.

I prevailed on him to go to the play-house in order to see Garrick, who

placed him in a box opposite the king and queen. I observed their

majesties to look at him more than at the players.[309:2] I should

desire no better fortune than to have the privilege of showing him to

all I please. The hereditary prince paid him a visit a few days ago; and

I imagine the Duke of York called on him one evening when he was abroad.

I love him much, and shall separate from him with much regret."[310:1]

Hume writes to Dr. Blair on 11th February:--

"You have seen in the newspapers enow of particulars concerning my

pupil, who has now left me and retired to Chiswick. He is impatient to

get into the mountains of Wales. He is a very agreeable amiable man, but

a great humorist.[310:2] The philosophers of Paris foretold to me that I

could not conduct him to Calais without a quarrel; but I think I could

live with him all my life in mutual friendship and esteem. I am very

sorry that the matter is not likely to be put to a trial! I believe one

great source of our concord is, that neither he nor I are disputatious,

which is not the case with any of them. They are also displeased with

him because they think he overabounds in religion; and it is indeed

remarkable, that the philosopher of this age who has been most

persecuted, is by far the most devout. I do not comprehend such

philosophers as are invested with the sacerdotal character. I am, dear

doctor, yours _usque ad aras_."[310:3]

The first attempt to find a settlement for Rousseau, was with the

French gardener at Fulham, already alluded to. The arrangement proposed

by Hume was, that the gardener was to receive from fifty to sixty pounds

a-year, as the consideration for boarding Rousseau and Mademoiselle, but

that he was only to draw twenty-five pounds from Rousseau, from whom he

was to keep the arrangement secret.[311:1] Rousseau rejected this

arrangement with disgust; and various other efforts to find him a

suitable home were equally unsuccessful. Hume, who, as Rousseau himself

tells Madame de Boufflers, was more anxious about his welfare than he

was himself, appears to have spent week after week, in the vain pursuit

of a resting place for the wanderer--no sooner framing a hopeful scheme

than it was contemptuously rejected. It does not appear, however, that

the inquiries were conducted precisely in the sphere in which Rousseau

liked to act. It is clear that he had not come to Britain to negotiate

with farmers at Chiswick, or French gardeners at Fulham. He undoubtedly

expected much more distinguished titles to be mixed up with his

arrangements; and we find that it was not till a rich man's well kept

country mansion was put at his disposal, that he deigned to be for a

moment satisfied. A letter to Blair, contains a very full narrative of

the subsequent proceedings.

HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.[312:1]

_Lisle Street, Leicester Fields,

25th March, 1766._

DEAR DOCTOR,--I had asked M. Rousseau the question you propose

to me: He answered, that the story of his "Héloise" had some

general and distant resemblance to reality; such as was

sufficient to warm his imagination and assist his invention:

but that all the chief circumstances were fictitious. I have

heard in France, that he had been employed to teach music to a

young lady, a boarder in a convent at Lyons; and that the

master and scholar fell mutually in love with each other; but

the affair was not attended with any consequences. I think

this work his masterpiece; though he himself told me, that he

valued most his _Contrat Social_; which is as preposterous a

judgment as that of Milton, who preferred the Paradise

Regained to all his other performances.

This man, the most singular of all human beings, has at last

left me; and I have very little hopes of ever being able, for

the future, to enjoy much of his company, though he says, that

if I settle either in London or Edinburgh, he will take a

journey on foot every year to visit me. Mr. Davenport, a

gentleman of £5000 or £6000 a-year, in the north of England,

and a man of great humanity and of a good understanding, has

taken the charge of him. He has a house called Wooton, in the

Peake of Derby, situated amidst mountains and rocks and

streams and forests, which pleases the wild imagination and

solitary humour of Rousseau; and as the master seldom

inhabited it, and only kept there a plain table for some

servants, he offered me to give it up to my friend. I

accepted, on condition that he would take from him £30 a-year

of board for himself and his gouvernante, which he was so

good-natured as to agree to. Rousseau has about £80 a-year,

which he has acquired by contracts with his booksellers, and

by a liferent annuity of £25 a-year, which he accepted from

Lord Marischal. This is the only man who has yet been able to

make him accept of money.

He was desperately resolved to rush into this solitude,

notwithstanding all my remonstrances; and I foresee, that he

will be unhappy in that situation, as he has indeed been

always in all situations. He will be entirely without

occupation, without company, and almost without amusement of

any kind. He has read very little during the course of his

life, and has now totally renounced all reading: He has seen

very little; and has no manner of curiosity to see or remark:

He has reflected, properly speaking, and studied very little;

and has not indeed much knowledge: He has only _felt_, during

the whole course of his life; and in this respect, his

sensibility rises to a pitch beyond what I have seen any

example of: but it still gives him a more acute feeling of

pain than of pleasure. He is like a man who were stript not

only of his clothes, but of his skin, and turned out in that

situation to combat with the rude and boisterous elements,

such as perpetually disturb this lower world. I shall give you

a remarkable instance of his turn of character in this

respect: It passed in my room, the evening before his

departure.

He had resolved to set out with his gouvernante in a

post-chaise; but Davenport, willing to cheat him and save him

some money, told him that he had found a retour chaise for the

place, which he might have for a trifle, and that luckily it

set out the very day in which Rousseau intended to depart. His

purpose was to hire a chaise, and make him believe this story.

He succeeded at first, but Rousseau afterwards ruminating on

the circumstances, began to entertain a suspicion of the

trick. He communicated his doubts to me, complaining that he

was treated like a child; that though he was poor, he chose

rather to conform himself to his circumstances, than live like

a beggar on alms; and that he was very unhappy in not speaking

the language familiarly, so as to guard himself against these

impositions. I told him that I was ignorant of the matter, and

knew nothing more of it, than I was told by Mr. Davenport, but

if he pleased I should make inquiry about it. "Never tell me

that," replied he, "if this be really a contrivance of

Davenport's, you are acquainted with it, and consenting to it;

and you could not possibly have done me a greater

displeasure." Upon which he sat down very sullen and silent;

and all my attempts were in vain to revive the conversation,

and to turn it on other subjects; he still answered me very

drily and coldly. At last, after passing near an hour in this

ill-humour, he rose up and took a turn about the room. But

judge of my surprise, when he sat down suddenly on my knee,

threw his hands about my neck, kissed me with the greatest

warmth, and bedewing all my face with tears, exclaimed, "Is it

possible you can ever forgive me, my dear friend? After all

the testimonies of affection I have received from you, I

reward you at last with this folly and ill behaviour: but I

have notwithstanding a heart worthy of your friendship; I love

you, I esteem you, and not an instance of your kindness is

thrown away upon me." I hope you have not so bad an opinion of

me as to think I was not melted on this occasion; I assure you

I kissed him and embraced him twenty times, with a plentiful

effusion of tears. I think no scene of my life was ever more

affecting.[315:1]

I now understand perfectly his aversion to company; which

appears so surprising in a man well qualified for the

entertainment of company, and which the greater part of the

world takes for affectation. He has frequent and long fits of

the spleen, from the state of his mind or body, call it which

you please; and from his extreme sensibility of temper, during

that disposition, company is a torment to him. When his

spirits and health and good humour return, his fancy affords

him so much and such agreeable occupation, that to call him

off from it gives him uneasiness; and even the writing of

books, he tells me, as it limits and restrains his fancy to

one subject, is not an agreeable entertainment. He never will

write any more; and never should have wrote at all, could he

have slept a-nights. But he lies awake commonly; and to keep

himself from tiring, he usually composed something, which he

wrote down when he arose. He assures me, that he composes very

slowly, and with great labour and difficulty.

He is naturally very modest, and even ignorant of his own

superiority. His fire, which frequently rises in conversation,

is gentle and temperate; he is never in the least arrogant and

domineering, and is, indeed, one of the best bred men I ever

knew. I shall give you such an instance of his modesty as must

necessarily be sincere. When we were on the road, I

recommended to him the learning of English, without which, I

told him, he would never enjoy entire liberty, nor be fully

independent, and at his own disposal. He was sensible I was in

the right, and said, that he heard there were two English

translations of his "Emile, or Treatise on Education;" he

would get them as soon as he arrived in London; and as he knew

the subject, he would have no other trouble, than to learn or

guess the words: this would save him some pains in consulting

the dictionary; and as he improved, it would amuse him to

compare the translations and judge which was the best.

Accordingly, soon after our arrival, I procured him the books,

but he returned them in a few days, saying that they could be

of no use to him. "What is the matter?" replied I. "I cannot

endure them," said he, "they are my own work; and ever since I

delivered my books to the press, I never could open them, or

read a page of them without disgust." "That is strange," said

I, "I wonder the good reception they have met with from the

world has not put you more in conceit with them." "Why," said

he, "if I were to count suffrages, there are perhaps more

against them than for them." "But," rejoined I, "it is

impossible but the style, and eloquence, and ornaments must

please you." "To tell the truth," said he, "I am not

displeased with myself in that particular: but I still dread,

that my writings are good for nothing at the bottom, and that

all my theories are full of extravagance. Je crains toujours

que je pèche par le fond, et que tous mes systèmes ne sont que

des extravagances." You see that this is judging of himself

with the utmost severity, and censuring his writings on the

side where they are most exposed to criticism. No feigned

modesty is ever capable of this courage. I never heard ----

reproach himself with the ----: nobody ever heard you express

any remorse, for having put Ossian on the same footing with

Homer!

Have I tired you, or will you have any more anecdotes of this

singular personage? I think I hear you desire me to go on. He

attempted once to justify to me the moral of his New Heloisa,

which, he knew, was blamed, as instructing young people in the

art of gratifying their passions, under the cover of virtue,

and noble refined sentiments. "You may observe," said he

"that my Julia is faithful to her husband's bed, though she is

seduced from her duty during her single state; but this last

circumstance can be of no consequence in France, where all the

young ladies are shut up in convents, and have it not in their

power to transgress: it might, indeed, have a bad effect in a

Protestant country." But notwithstanding this reflection, he

told me, that he has wrote a continuation of his "Emilius,"

which may soon be published. He there attempts to show the

effect of his plan of education, by representing Emilius in

all the most trying situations, and still extricating himself

with courage and virtue. Among the rest, he discovers that

Sophia, the amiable, the virtuous, the estimable Sophia, is

unfaithful to his bed, which fatal accident he bears with a

manly superior spirit. "In this work," added he, "I have

endeavoured to represent Sophia in such a light that she will

appear equally amiable, equally virtuous, and equally

estimable, as if she had no such frailty." "You take a

pleasure, I see," said I, "to combat with difficulties in all

your works." "Yes," said he, "I hate marvellous and

supernatural _events_ in novels. The only thing that can give

pleasure in such performances is to place the personages in

situations difficult and singular." Thus, you see, nothing

remains for him but to write a book for the instruction of

widows! unless perhaps he imagines that they can learn their

lesson without instruction. Adieu, dear doctor; you say that

you sometimes read my letters to our common friends; but you

must read this only to the initiated.[317:1]

Almost the only other matter which appears conspicuously in Hume's

correspondence during his intercourse with Rousseau, is the death of a

dear friend, often mentioned in his previous letters--Dr. Jardine. He

was a man of strong judgment, and much sarcastic wit; but his articles

in _The Edinburgh Review_ of 1755, are almost the only specimens of his

ability which he has left to posterity. He was born in Dumfries-shire

on 3d January, 1716, and he was minister of the Tron Church parish when

he died. The death was sudden; and Hume, overlooking the calamitous

consequences of such events to surviving relatives, and in harmony with

the opinions he had expressed on death in a still more appalling form,

seems to have considered its suddenness as fortunate. He thus writes to

Blair, on 5th June.

"I cannot begin my letter without lamenting most sincerely the death of

our friend Dr. Jardine. I do not aggravate it by the circumstance of its

being sudden, for that is very desirable. But surely we shall ever

regret the loss of a very pleasant companion, and of a very friendly

honest man. It makes a blank which you must all feel, and which I in

particular will sensibly feel, when I come amongst you. I need not ask

you whether the miscreants of the opposite party do not rejoice, for I

take it for granted they do."[318:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[264:1] MS. R.S.E.

[265:1] MS. R.S.E. In answer, Millar tells him that the prejudice is not

against the Scots, but against Lord Bute; that matters have now,

however, been all put right, for "it is generally believed that Mr.

_Greenville_ is a good manager of the finances, and in general means

well: as a proof of it, our stocks have been creeping up daily, and it

is now generally believed that 3 per cent will soon come to par if

affairs continue peaceable!" One possessed of better opportunities of

judging, and more capable of using them, joins in these anticipations of

success with which Grenville's disastrous career as a financier opened.

Elliot says, on 25th March, 1765: "To-morrow Mr. Grenville opens the

budget, as it is usually called, and I believe our revenue will appear

to be on a better footing than is usually believed. I hope we shall have

discharged as much debt without breach of faith as you have done in a

politer way. Not that I pretend to censure your method. You borrow at a

high interest during time of war, and it is understood you are to take

your own method in peace. Our mode of proceeding is the very reverse of

this. . . . Your negotiation with regard to the French prisoners you

must have heard, met with all the approbation it so well deserved." (MS.

R.S.E.)

[268:1] Probably Vallière. The Duc de Vallière was supposed to be the

author of some anonymous theatrical pieces.

[270:1] MS. R.S.E.

[270:2] This gentleman is the same who afterwards distinguished himself

as a diplomatist, and who was so well known by the title of Sir Robert

Liston.

[272:1] Minto MSS.

[273:1] Mallet died on 21st April, 1765.

[273:2] MS. R.S.E.

[275:1] On account of his taxation system having caused the American

Revolution, Grenville is now generally ranked with statesmen of despotic

principles. He was, however, an avowed admirer of the democratic

portions of the constitution; and it was in truth his ill-directed

advocacy of popular rights, not an intentional departure from his avowed

principles, that made his administration so disastrous. His zeal for the

independent authority of Parliament, and for the curtailment of the

prerogatives of the Crown, induced him to struggle for the exercise by

parliament, in the colonies, of a power with which the crown could not

compete,--that of taxation.

[275:2] Minto MSS.

[276:1] Evidently the Abbé Morellet, who afterwards corresponded with

Hume on these subjects. He was born in 1727, and died in 1819. From his

great age and the cheerful social habits of his latter years, he was one

of the few members of the school of the Encyclopædiasts, whom men of the

present generation have been accustomed to meet in general society.

Morellet possessed two distinct titles to fame. He had written some

grave and valuable books on political economy and statistics; while in

lighter literature, and in Madame Geoffrin's circle, he enjoyed a high

reputation for playful and pungent wit. His friends likened him to

Swift; but as he sought to avoid malice in his sarcasms, and to make

them subservient to good principles in morals and religion, he might, in

this part of his character, be more aptly compared with Sydney Smith. He

had a great partiality for Scottish music; but it may be doubted if this

taste was either created or fostered by his intercourse with Hume. In

his very amusing Memoires, he describes a dinner with a musical party

near Plymouth, in the open air. Some young ladies, with their father and

mother, approached near enough to hear the music. The Abbé gallantly

carried them a basket of cherries. "Je les prie en même temps de vouloir

bien chanter _some Scotish song_, dont, moi Français, j'étais _very

fond_. Elles se regardent un moment: et dès que nous fûmes retournés à

nos places, comme si notre plus grand éloignement les eût rassurées,

elles se mettent à chanter toutes les trois à l'unisson, avec des voix

d'une extrême douceur, _The lass of Peatie's Mill_. Le temps, le lieu,

la singularité de la rencontre ajoutèrent quelques charmes à ce petit

concert." Vol. i. p. 209.

[277:1] Memorials of Oswald, p. 81.

[278:1] Mr. Elliot, in answer to the letter printed above, (p. 189,)

says, "So, my dear sir, you have at last, with no small reluctance, and

after many struggles, prevailed with yourself to acquaint some of your

friends that Lord Hertford means to desire that government would be

graciously pleased to bestow the character and emoluments of the

secretaryship upon the person who actually performs the functions of it.

At your time of life, with so much independency about you, and so unlike

all your former conduct, indeed I am not at all surprised that it cost

you near two pages of apology and explanation before you would even

intrust me with the secret. Were you less deep in the study of human

nature, and somewhat more an adept in the ways of men, I am apt to think

you would rather have filled your letter with excuses for not having

sooner made this application."

He goes on to state, that he has been exerting himself in the matter,

but that on all occasions he had found himself anticipated by Lord

Hertford. He continues:

"As to _ingrata patria ne ossa quidem habebis_, don't be at all uneasy.

Here I can speak more peremptorily; and notwithstanding all your errors,

mistakes, and heresies in religion, morals, and government, I undertake

you shall have at least Christian burial, and perhaps we may find for

you a niche in Westminster Abbey besides. Your Lockes, Newtons, and

Bacons had no great matter to boast of during their lives; and yet they

were the most orthodox of men; they required no godfather to answer for

them; while, on the other hand, did not Lord Hertford spread his

sevenfold shield over all your transgressions? Pray, what pretensions

have you, either in church or state; for you well know you have offended

both?"--MS. R.S.E.

[279:1] MS. R.S.E.

[280:1] Private Correspondence, p. 121.

[281:1] Mrs. Elliot, who as an heiress preserved the name of Murray

Kynynmond.

[282:1] Minto MSS.

[282:2] Walpole, Memoirs of George III. i. 391. Walpole pretends that

Conway's dismissal was partly caused by revenge against Lord Hertford

for his conduct on this occasion, (ib. 402.) But from his own account of

it, the resolution to dismiss Conway had been taken before Hume's

appointment.

[284:1] Lives of Men of Letters, &c. p. 225.

[284:2] He was Lady Hertford's nephew.

[286:1] MS. R.S.E.

[286:2] See above, p. 172.

[286:3] The Dauphin was then far advanced in the disease of which he

died. According to the ordinary French historians, he was at the same

time so completely subjected to the priestly influence of the Molinists,

as to justify the supposition, that the decay of his mind kept pace with

that of his body. Others give a totally different account of him, and

Walpole says, "To please his family, the prince went through all the

ceremonies of the church, but showed to his attendants after they were

over, how vain and ridiculous he thought them. Many expressions he

dropped in his last hours that spoke the freedom of his opinions; and to

the Duc de Nivernois he said, he was glad to leave behind him such a

book as 'Hume's Essays.'" Memoirs of George III. vol. ii. p. 242. The

Dauphin died on 20th December, 1765.

[287:1] MS. R.S.E.

[288:1] A general officer of reputation, making such an application, on

behalf of a friend, says:--

"The divine in question has a very good living, but in a quarter of the

world where he has not a creature to converse with. If his excellency

would enrol him among that million of the tribe of Levi, that attend at

the Castle of Dublin, who are called his chaplains, it would excuse his

attendance at quarters: And his general,--I mean, his bishop, would be

under the necessity of permitting him to be absent whilst he had the

honour to be about the commander-in-chief at headquarters."--MS. R.S.E.

[289:1] Lord Hertford, writing to Hume, on 5th August, says:--

"DEAR SIR,--You will see, in the papers, that Barré is to be my

secretary; but it has no other foundation. If I had been at liberty, I

should have desired to continue with him whose abilities and ease in

business I have so long experienced; but the world will have it

otherwise, and it must be my son. He is popular in Ireland; and I am

invited, on all hands, to name him; at the same time that I am told the

great danger of indulging my own inclinations, that if I named you, with

the particular additional prejudice that prevails, at present, against

the Scotch, that I should condemn my own administration. I have,

therefore, made it the condition of my acceptance of the lieutenancy,

that you are immediately provided for in a manner less likely to subject

you to the inconvenience of party changes. I have explained, both to the

King and the ministers, how essential I thought it to my honour and ease

of mind; and it is resolved. I flatter myself I shall soon be able to

acquaint you, that I have been a good solicitor; and, as my private

friend, I beg leave to assure you that I shall always be most happy in

receiving you in Dublin, and every other part of the world, let the

prejudices and follies of mankind be what they will. I hope you will

consider me as your friend; and I will desire no other return for all

the services I may be able to do you, than such a portion of your time

as you can bestow upon me, consistently with your inclination. The Duke

of Richmond goes to France: I do not yet know upon what plan, having not

seen him. He is a pretty figure; is easy in his behaviour; and does not

want parts. I wish he may have temper, experience, and knowledge of men

for that place. I have talked to my brother, as it became a wellwisher

to peace, upon this occasion. You will receive, by the messenger which

carries this letter to France, an official one from my brother, drawn by

himself, by which you will be able to judge of his style. I need not add

any thing to it. Every thing which passed, in a very long conference we

had together with Guerchy, is fully stated in it; but, when you talk to

the Duke of Praslin upon it, you will, if you please, take an

opportunity of recommending from me, in a particular manner, the

indulgence required for the holders of the Canada bills. This point may

be essential to the good understanding between the two courts."--MS.

R.S.E.

[290:1] MS. R.S.E.

[291:1] Lord Hertford writes Hume, on 16th August;--

"The usher of the black rod, in Ireland, is in my disposal. It produces,

in the course of a session, from £800 to £900, as I am informed. If you

approve it, my intention is to give it to a gentleman who will be

extremely satisfied to accept of £300 a-year for his trouble, at most,

and the rest will be placed to your account, without interrupting the

benefit of the pension."

And again, on September 5, after Hume's refusal:--

"The black rod you will give me leave to dispose of as I intended. You

shall, at the end of the session, refuse the emoluments I propose to

reserve out of it, if you see sufficient reason. £300 for doing the duty

of it should satisfy the person to whom I will give it."--MS. R.S.E.

[292:1] _Lit. Gazette_, 1822, p. 711. Corrected from original in MSS.

R.S.E.

[293:1] _Lit. Gazette_, 1822, p. 722. Corrected from original in MSS.

R.S.E.

[293:2] MS. R.S.E.

[295:1] We are told (vie de Rousseau par Musset Pathay, i. 102,) that a

certain M. Augar, having been here presented to the apostle of

education, said he was bringing up his son after the model of "Emile."

"So much the worse both for you and your son;" _tant pis pour vous et

pour votre fils_, said Rousseau. This must have been highly

satisfactory. Of all the theories to reconcile Rousseau's

contradictions,--to discover on what principle he preached up parental

care, and sent his own children to the foundling hospital, the best is

supplied by himself in a single sentence in the Heloise: "L'on sait bien

que tout homme qui pose des maximes générales, entend qu'elles obligent

tout le monde, excepté lui." This is certainly more intelligible than

the mystical theory of his eulogist, D'Escherny: "Il n'y a que les sots

qui ne se contredisent point, parce que leur esprit borné ne voit jamais

qu'un côté de l'objet."

[295:2] He states, in the "Confessions," that when Wallace's work on the

Number of Mankind was passing through the press, Hume undertook the

revision of the proof sheets, though the work was written against

himself. I am not aware of any other authority for this anecdote.

Rousseau said he was charmed with it, because the conduct was so much

like his own!

[296:1] Account of the Controversy between Hume and Rousseau.

[297:1] "Un banc très-massif, qui étoit dans la rue à côté de ma porte

et fortement attaché, fut détaché, enlevé, et posé debout contre la

porte; de sorte que, si l'on ne s'en fût aperçu, le premier qui pour

sortir auroit ouvert la porte d'entrée, devoit naturellement être

assommé."--_Confessions_, Liv. 12.

[301:1] Hume, though habitually sceptical, was far from being

suspicious; and in his kindness to his new companion, he took every

thing in sincerity. "C'est un des malheurs de ma vie," says Rousseau,

"qu'avec un si grand désir d'être oublié, je sois contraint de parler de

moi sans cesse;" but those who knew him better than Hume did at so early

a period of their intercourse, do not give him credit for desiring to be

either neglected or forgotten. Madame de Genlis professes to have been

much vexed and perplexed by having acted on a reliance similar to

Hume's. Rousseau had promised to accompany her to the Comédie Françoise,

on the condition that they were to occupy a _loge grillée_. When they

entered, madame flew to shut the grating; Rousseau opposed her; he was

sure _she_ would not like it to be closed, and he would be sufficiently

hidden, by sitting behind her. In the scuffle he was recognised; madame,

vexed and terrified, insisted that the grating should be closed; but he

was inexorable. The commencement of a popular piece soon relieved them

from notice, and when the eyes of the audience were averted from him,

Rousseau grew gloomy and rude. He afterwards professed himself deeply

offended at having been exhibited as a wild beast! _Mémoires_, ii. 12.

The same lady gives a more pleasing instance of his characteristics at

that time, in describing her first introduction to him. A friend told

her, that her husband intended to play a trick on her: to employ the

celebrated mimic Preville, the Foote of the French stage, to personate

Rousseau at his table. The expected guest appeared. His dress and

appearance were so unlike other people's, yet so like what would have

been expected in Rousseau--his conversation was so brilliant--that it

certainly must be a piece of wonderful acting. Thoroughly at her ease,

she laughed, and talked, and sang the airs of the Devin du village. It

was Rousseau himself! and not accustomed, in this the full blaze of his

reputation, to be received with so much freedom, by a young and

accomplished woman, he pronounced her to be the most lively and

unaffected of her sex.

[303:1] MS. R.S.E.

[304:1] It does not appear that Rousseau made any progress in English.

In a letter to Hume, from Wooton, he says, "J'ai eu hier la visite de M.

le Ministre, qui, voyant que je ne lui parlois que François, n'a pas

voulu me parler Anglois, de sorte que l'entrevue s'est passée à peu près

sans mot dire. J'ai pris goût à l'expédient; je m'en servirai avec tous

mes voisins, si j'en ai; et dussé-je apprendre l'Anglois, je ne leur

parlerai que François, sur-tout si j'ai le bonheur qu'ils n'en sachent

pas un mot."

[305:1] General Conway's wife.

[305:2] Rousseau writes to Hume:--

_Le Lundi Soir._

Je vous supplie, mon très cher patron, de vouloir bien

m'excuser auprès de Myladi Ailesbury et de Mr. Le Général

Conway. Je suis malade, et hors d'état de me présenter, et

Mademoiselle Le Vasseur, très bonne, et très estimable

personne, n'est point faite pour paroître dans les grandes

compagnies. Trouvez bon, mon très cher patron, que nous nous

en tenions au premier arrangement et que j'attende dans

l'après midi le carrosse que M. Davenport veut bien envoyer.

J'arrive suant et fatigué d'une longue promenade: c'est

pourquoi je ne prolonge pas ma lettre: vous m'avez si bien

acquis et je suis à vous de tant de manières que cela même ne

doit plus être dit. Je vous embrasse de toute la tendresse de

mon cœur.

J. J. ROUSSEAU.

Had Lady Aylesbury requested the honour of Mademoiselle le Vasseur's

company along with that of her keeper? Rousseau tells us what pleasure

it gave him to see Madame la Marechale de Luxembourg embrace her in

public. But if any English lady of rank and character offered to extend

her hospitality to such a person, there could be no stronger evidence of

the general consent to suspend all social laws in favour of Rousseau.

[306:1] Of Lord Marischal he always spoke with respect. In the

Confessions, he says, "O bon Milord! ô mon digne père! que mon cœur

s'émeut encore en pensant à vous! Ah les barbares! quel coup ils m'ont

porté en vous détachant de moi! Mais non, non, grand homme, vous êtes et

serez toujours le même pour moi, qui suis le même toujours."

[306:2] Madame de Boufflers seems to have early apprehended mischief

from Walpole's letter. In the letter referred to, she says, "Je voudrois

savoir si une lettre du Roy de Prusse qui court Paris est vraie ou

fausse. On dit qu'elle est pleine d'ironie." She then proceeds to

describe the letter. Hume in answer says, "I suppose, that by this time

you have learned it was Horace Walpole who wrote the Prussian letter you

mentioned to me. It is a strange inclination we have to be wits,

preferably to every thing else. He is a very worthy man; he esteems and

even admires Rousseau; yet he could not forbear, for the sake of a very

indifferent joke, the turning him into ridicule, and saying harsh things

against him. I am a little angry with him; and I hear you are a great

deal: but the matter ought to be treated only as a piece of

levity."--_Private Correspondence_, p. 130.

[307:1] Private Correspondence, p. 125-128.

[308:1] Private Correspondence, p. 131-132.

[309:1] The mark of interrogation is in the MS.

[309:2] Writing to the Marquise de Barbantane, he makes the following

addition to this anecdote:--

"When the hour came, he told me, that he had changed his resolution, and

would not go: 'for--what shall I do with Sultan?' That is the name of

his dog. 'You must leave him behind,' said I. 'But the first person,'

replied he, 'who opens the door, Sultan will run into the streets in

search of me, and will be lost.' 'You must then,' said I, 'lock him up

in your room, and put the key in your pocket.' This was accordingly

done: but as we went down stairs, the dog howled and made a noise; his

master turned back, and said he had not resolution to leave him in that

condition; but I caught him in my arms and told him, that Mrs. Garrick

had dismissed another company in order to make room for him; that the

King and Queen were expecting to see him; and without a better reason

than Sultan's impatience, it would be ridiculous to disappoint them.

Partly by these reasons, and partly by force, I engaged him to

proceed."--_Private Correspondence_, p. 144.

[310:1] MS. R.S.E.

[310:2] The word appears not to be used in its modern popular sense, but

as meaning a person full of caprice.

[310:3] MS. R.S.E.

[311:1] In his narrative of the controversy, Hume says, "I wrote

immediately to my friend Mr. John Stewart of Buckingham Street, that I

had an affair to communicate to him, of so secret and delicate a nature,

that I should not venture even to commit it to paper, but that he might

learn the particulars of Mr. Elliot. . . . . Mr. Stewart was to look out

for some honest and discreet farmer in his neighbourhood, who might be

willing to lodge and board M. Rousseau and his gouvernante. . . . . It

was not long before Mr. Stewart wrote me word he had found a situation,

which he conceived might be agreeable," &c.

In confirmation of this narrative, there is the following letter in the

MSS. R.S.E. Mr. Stewart is probably the "Jack Stewart," frequently

alluded to in Hume's letters.

"MY DEAR SIR,--Mr. Elliot told me the affair you recommended

to him. Since his arrival I have tried every farmer in our

side of the country, and can find no proper place. Some have

not room, some hate foreigners, some don't chuse boarders, and

the major part of all are such beings as he could not live

with in any comfortable manner. There is an old Frenchman who

has been here since a child, and has a sort of a garden farm

at Fulham. To him I proposed the thing without mentioning

names, and to oblige me he will take such a boarder: but still

I could wish to find a place where he would be more agreeably

situated, for this man keeps only a single maid, eats very

plain, and his house is as dirty as a Frenchman's in France.

The farmer himself is about sixty years old, unmarried, a

cheerful honest creature, of a very obliging disposition.

Consider whether this will suit your purpose, or if I should

try in other counties. Adieu, my worthy good sir. Believe me

eternally, your devoted servant,

"J. STEWART."

[312:1] Blair had written on 24th February,--

"I received both your letters; and am exceedingly indebted to you for

the many curious and entertaining anecdotes you gave me concerning

Rousseau. They bestowed upon me somewhat of the same importance which

you say your connexion with Rousseau himself bestowed upon you in Paris,

by having so much information to give my friends from you concerning so

extraordinary a personage. Your accounts pleased me the more, that they

coincided very much with the idea I had always formed of the

man--amiable but whimsical. Strong sensibilities joined with an oddly

arranged understanding. He is a proof of what I always thought to be a

possible mixture in human nature, one being a sceptic from the turn of

their mind, and yet an enthusiast from the turn of their heart; for this

I take to be his real character--a man floating betwixt doubts and

feelings--betwixt scepticism and enthusiasm: leaning more to the latter

than the former; his understanding strangely tinctured by both." He

desires Hume to ask Rousseau, whether the principal scenes in his

"Héloise" were not founded on real events.--MS. R.S.E.

[315:1] This anecdote is told in substantially the same manner to Madame

de Boufflers, to whom its spirit would be doubtless far less

incomprehensible than to Dr. Blair.--_See Private Correspondence_, p.

150.

[317:1] _Literary Gazette_, 1822, p. 731, corrected from original, MS.

R.S.E.

[318:1] MS. R.S.E. Blair writes on 12th June:--

"Poor Jardine--I knew you would join with us in dropping very cordial

tears over his memory. What pleasant hours have I passed with you and

him. We have lost a most agreeable companion, as it was possible for any

man to be, and a very useful man to us here, in all public affairs. I

thought of you at the very first as one who would sensibly feel the

blank he will make in our society, when you come again to join it. But

when are you to come?"--MS. R.S.E.

CHAPTER XV.

1766-1767. Æt. 55-56.

Rousseau at Wooton--Mr. Davenport--Negotiations as to

Rousseau's pension--Origin and rise of his excitement against

Hume--Proper method of viewing the dispute--Incidents

illustrative of Rousseau's state of mind--His charges against

Hume--Smith's opinion--Opinion of the French friends--Hume's

conduct in the publication of the papers--Voltaire--Rousseau's

flight and wanderings--Hume's subsequent conduct to him.

The place where Rousseau found a retreat, was the mansion of Wooton in

Derbyshire, surrounded by scenery, not unlike that which he had left

behind him in the Jura. It was a late addition to the extensive

ancestral estates of its proprietor, Mr. Davenport of Davenport. How

successful Hume had been, in finding a man of generous, warm, kindly

nature, to be the protector of his exiled friend, some letters from Mr.

Davenport, printed in the course of this narrative will attest.[319:1]

That Rousseau might be induced to live in his house, it was necessary

that Mr. Davenport should agree to accept of a sum of money in the shape

of board, and he good-humouredly conceded to Hume, that the amount

should be fixed at £30 a-year. "If it be possible," says Hume, "for a

man to live without occupation, without books, without society, and

without sleep, he will not quit this wild and solitary place; where all

the circumstances which he ever required, seem to concur for the

purpose of making him happy. But I dread the weakness and inquietude

natural to every man, and, above all, to a man of his character. I

should not be surprised that he had soon quitted this retreat."[320:1]

It appears that Mr. Davenport intended, if Rousseau became attached to

Wooton, to leave him a life lease of the house.[320:2]

Rousseau reached Wooton about the middle of March. On the 22d he wrote

to his _cher Patron_ Hume, informing him that his new place of residence

was in every way delightful; and that its charms were enhanced by the

reflection, that he owed all the happiness of his new position to his

dear friend.[320:3] Doubtless Hume, who must now have been a little

tired of the caprices which had so constantly baffled his friendly

exertions, felt this acknowledgment to be very gratifying. On the 29th

he received a letter, still friendly and grateful, but not quite so

warm, in which Rousseau, while he complains of the inconvenience of not

being understood by the servants, congratulates himself on his ignorance

of the English language, as saving him from the annoyance of

communication with his neighbours.[320:4]

While all seemed thus serene, dark thoughts were gathering in the

exile's mind: and if Hume, relieved of his troublesome duties, and

probably satisfied with his own conduct, had known the nicer tests of

the state of that variable and tempestuous temper, he might have

calculated, by some indications, that the storm was about to burst. The

letter of Horace Walpole had, for some time, been lying at the bottom of

Rousseau's mind, not forgotten, though hidden from view; and it seems to

have formed the nucleus round which his diseased imaginations gathered,

and put themselves into shape.[321:1] On the 7th of April, Rousseau

sent a letter to the editor of the _St. James's Chronicle_, in which it

had appeared, denouncing it as a forgery concocted in Paris, and saying

that it rent and afflicted his heart to say, that the impostor had his

accomplices in England. That it was not then, or for many weeks before,

that he first became acquainted with this _jeu d'esprit_, is clear from

a letter to Madame de Boufflers, of 18th January, in which he states,

that Hume had just informed him of its existence.[323:1] He appears to

have then attributed it to Voltaire. He afterwards imputed it, with

great confidence, to D'Alembert; and the ultimate discovery, that it was

not written by any literary rival and conspirator, but by an English

gentleman partial to such wicked amusements, appears to have been the

most galling circumstance connected with it.

It seems to have been believed, by some of those who knew Rousseau's

character, that his brooding over Walpole's letter would have been

insufficient to cause the commotions that followed, without the

malicious assistance of Mademoiselle Le Vasseur.[323:2] This woman, who

seems to have possessed all the vices to which her sex is liable,

without one of its virtues,--who had just enough of intellect to assist

the cunning of her depraved heart,--is said to have had an influence

over the philosopher of education, of which it is certainly difficult to

credit the extent. It will be seen, in the letters of Mr. Davenport,

that she had a dispute with his venerable housekeeper, concerning a

kettle and cinders! What was the exact nature of the dispute, is now, it

may be feared, buried in eternal oblivion; and we are left to conjecture

whither an influential cause in a literary quarrel, which interested all

Europe, may possibly have been a kettle and cinders. On the 12th of

May, Rousseau wrote to General Conway, acknowledging the king's goodness

in bestowing on him a pension; saying he thought himself armed against

all disasters, but that a new and unimagined one had arisen, which so

troubled his spirit, that he had not the necessary presence of mind to

decide on the conduct he ought to adopt as to the pension. He expressed,

at the same time, sorrow that he could not publicly acknowledge his

obligations. This appeared to Hume and Conway to be an intimation, that

the pension would not be accepted if it were to be secret.[324:1]

While his mind was thus blackening within, he preserved a cheerful

exterior; and Mr. Davenport wrote to Hume, on 14th May, from Wooton: "I

came on Friday, and had the satisfaction of finding M. Rousseau in

perfect health. He seems to like the place; amuses himself with walking

when the weather is fair; if raining, he plays upon the harpsichord and

writes: is very sociable, and an excellent companion."[325:1] There is

evidence, however, that he had entertained all his evil thoughts of Hume

at a much earlier period. His second letter to him, in the capacity of

_Cher Patron_, is dated, as we have mentioned, 29th March. On the 31st

he wrote to M. D'Ivernois, saying that he found Hume allied with his

most dangerous enemies, and if he were not a rascal, he himself would

owe him many reparations for unjust suspicions entertained of

him.[325:2]

Resolved to bring the matter of the pension to a conclusion, Hume wrote

to Rousseau thus:--

"_Lisle Street, Leicester Fields_, _June 16, 1766_.

"As I have not received any answer from you, sir, I conclude that you

persevere in the resolution of refusing all marks of his majesty's

goodness, as long as they must remain a secret. I have, therefore,

applied to General Conway to have this condition removed; and I have

been so fortunate as to obtain his promise, that he would speak to the

king for that purpose. It will only be requisite, said he, that we know

previously from M. Rousseau, whether he would accept of a pension

publicly granted him, that his majesty may not be exposed to a second

refusal. He gave me authority to write to you on the subject; and I beg

to hear your resolution as soon as possible. If you give your consent,

which I earnestly entreat you to do, I know that I can depend on the

good offices of the Duke of Richmond to second General Conway's

application; so that I have no doubt of success. I am, my dear sir,

yours, with great sincerity."[326:1]

This brought on the first gust of the storm. On 23d June, Rousseau wrote

his celebrated letter, beginning with the observation, that his silence,

interpreted by Hume's conscience, must have convinced the latter that

the whole of his horrible designs were discovered. In this letter

nothing is more remarkable than the contrast between the frantic

bitterness of the language, and the elaborate neatness of the

penmanship, which, if handwriting conveyed a notion of character, would

represent a calm, contented mind, gratifying itself by the exercise of

the petty art of caligraphy. A fac-simile of the concluding paragraph is

given, that the reader may have an opportunity of marking this singular

contrast.

[Illustration]

Hume, now thoroughly angry, wrote as follows:--

HUME _to_ ROUSSEAU.

"_June 26, 1766._

"As I am conscious of having ever acted towards you the most friendly

part, of having always given you the most tender and the most active

proofs of sincere affection, you may judge of my extreme surprise on

perusing your epistle. Such violent accusations, confined altogether to

generalities, it is as impossible to answer, as it is impossible to

comprehend them. But affairs cannot, must not, remain on that footing. I

shall charitably suppose that some infamous calumniator has belied me to

you. But, in that case, it is your duty, and, I am persuaded, it will be

your inclination, to give me an opportunity of detecting him, and of

justifying myself; which can only be done by your mentioning the

particulars of which I am accused. You say, that I myself know that I

have been false to you; but I say it loudly, and will say it to the

whole world, that I know the contrary; that I know my friendship towards

you has been unbounded and uninterrupted; and that though I have given

you instances of it, which have been universally remarked both in France

and England, the public as yet are acquainted only with the smallest

part of it. I demand, that you name to me the man who dares assert the

contrary; and, above all, I demand, that he shall mention any one

particular in which I have been wanting to you. You owe this to me; you

owe it to yourself; you owe it to truth, and honour, and justice, and to

every thing deemed sacred among men. As an innocent man--for I will not

say, as your friend; I will not say, as your benefactor; but I repeat

it, as an innocent man, I claim the privilege of proving my innocence,

and of refuting any scandalous falsehood which may have been invented

against me. Mr. Davenport, to whom I have sent a copy of your letter,

and who will read this before he delivers it, will, I am confident,

second my demand, and tell you that nothing can be more equitable.

Happily I have preserved the letter you wrote me after your arrival at

Wooton; and you there express, in the strongest terms, in terms indeed

too strong, your satisfaction in my poor endeavours to serve you. The

little epistolary intercourse, which afterwards passed between us, has

been all employed on my side to the most friendly purposes. Tell me,

then, what has since given you offence. Tell me, of what I am accused.

Tell me the man who accuses me. Even after you have fulfilled all these

conditions to my satisfaction, and to that of Mr. Davenport, you will

still have great difficulty to justify your employing such outrageous

terms towards a man, with whom you have been so intimately connected,

and who was entitled, on many accounts, to have been treated by you with

more regard and decency.

"Mr. Davenport knows the whole transaction about your pension, because I

thought it necessary that the person who had undertaken your settlement

should be fully acquainted with your circumstances; lest he should be

tempted to perform towards you concealed acts of generosity, which, if

they accidentally came to your knowledge, might give you some grounds of

offence. I am, sir," &c.[328:1]

In here exhibiting a few of the prominent features of the quarrel

between Hume and Rousseau, there is no intention of entering on a

defence of Hume, or a full examination of the conduct of the parties.

Viewing it as a picturesque incident in literary history, the reader

will probably feel an interest in such new light as may be thrown upon

it on the present occasion; but, it is presumed that few who have made

themselves acquainted with the material circumstances of the dispute, as

they have been already made known, will expect any thing to be said that

can alter their appreciation of the conduct of the parties. Where there

are personal disputes, there is no cause so hopelessly bad as to be

without partisans; and when no other motive comes into action, a feeling

of generosity towards one who seems to have forfeited the good opinion

of his kind, calls forth a few vindicators and supporters. It was

natural that Rousseau, a man of great genius, whose writings had

produced a prodigious influence on his age,--one who had shown, in many

instances, the outward manifestations of a kind unselfish disposition,

and who had discarded, with an air of magnanimous scorn, all the

grovelling ties that bind the human creature to the earth on which he

crawls,--should have champions and supporters in any dispute in which he

might be involved, be his conduct what it might. Thus he had a few

vindicators, chiefly of the female sex, while he lived: but gradually,

when feelings of personal sympathy had died away, the conduct of the

disputants ceased to be weighed against each other in the same scales.

People did not inquire which of them had acted more fairly and justly

than the other; but, putting Rousseau's conduct out of the question as a

criterion, they asked, whether that of Hume was kind and magnanimous

towards the unfortunate monomaniac?[329:1] Although this view is plainly

to be traced in the sentiments of those who have fugitively touched on

the dispute, it is to be gathered more from the general tone of their

remarks, than from any direct avowal of belief, that Rousseau was a

monomaniac.[331:1] There is a majesty in genius, that makes us reluctant

thus to ally it with the debasement of the human intellect. Yet, too

often, some portion of the most brilliant mind is thus eclipsed, though

the brightness of what is clear prevents our seeing easily the blackened

spot. In Rousseau's case, there has been, perhaps, a disinclination to

admit the "plea of insanity," on account of the wonderful practical

sagacity that accompanied his aberrations. Though apparently surveying

the world with a sick and careless eye, he occasionally penetrated into

the depths of the human heart, and marked its secrets, with an accuracy

that made the practised and systematic observer's survey seem but a

superficial glance. He had a mind at times eminently practical,[332:1]

and suited to estimate men's conduct and character: and thus appearing

before the world, there has been much hesitation to pronounce, that the

sincerity of insanity accompanied all his vile charges against a man

whose heart could not have been for one moment visited by the atrocities

of which he is accused.

It is clear, that whatever had been Hume's conduct in the affair,

Rousseau's rage was a storm predestined to burst upon him. Its elements

were in the mind of "the self-torturing sophist," not in the conduct of

any other person; and whoever was the object nearest to his thoughts at

the moment, as being most associated with the circumstances in which he

was placed, had to stand the shock. In this view, Hume's conduct is no

more to be tested by that of Rousseau, than the keeper's by that of his

patient. We are thus rid of the unpleasant employment of comparing

things which cannot bear comparison; and of the sickening task of

enumerating instances of kindness, attachment, persevering good offices,

and charitable interpretations of conduct on the one side, met by black

ingratitude, contempt, and deadly injury on the other.

If we look for that over-excited propensity which may have caused this

mental disease, it appears, beyond doubt, that it was vanity.[333:1]

All Rousseau's avowed misfortunes are the calamities of celebrity. At

one time he is the victim of princes and prime ministers; at another, of

an assembled clergy; at another, of half the learned men of Europe. That

he is neglected and forgotten is never among his ostensible complaints;

though there is good reason to believe that it was at the bottom of his

most conspicuous fits of fury. The English people, though they were at

first somewhat curious about the remarkable stranger, did not incommode

themselves about him, and obstinately abstained from following him into

the wilderness. In his long letter of charges, he cannot help bitterly

remarking the apathy of the public; but he states it as an accusation

against Hume,[333:2] whom he supposes to have said, like Flavius,

I'll about

And drive away the vulgar from the streets:

So do you too, where you perceive them thick.

These growing feathers, pluck'd from Cæsar's wing,

Will make him fly an ordinary pitch,

Who else would soar above the view of men,

And keep us all in servile fearfulness.

Had the solitudes of Wooton been peopled by multitudes anxious to catch

a passing glance of the "apostle of affliction," he would doubtless have

let loose his half-appeased discontent in some querulous letters about

the impossibility of his finding repose and solitude; but he would not

have courted such a conflict as he rushed into in the bitterness of his

solitude. Although his character stands without parallel in its own vast

proportions, it is not without abundance of exemplifications on a

smaller scale. There are few who have not, in their journey through

life, encountered one or more small Rousseaus, in men of ravenous and

insatiable vanity, who, unlike the ordinary good-natured vain men, are

perpetually rejecting the incense offered to their appetite, and

demanding some new form of worship. In these, as in the chimney-piece

models of celebrated statues, may we view the proportions of the great

self-tormenter's mind; and when it is found that the peculiarity is

generally accompanied with some observable amount of intellectual

acquirements, which place the individual a degree above those who

surround him, the resemblance is the more complete. Vanity being its

source, the shape assumed by his monomania was a dread of conspiracies

in all shapes; and he was as sincere a believer in their existence, as

any unfortunate inhabitant of bedlam has ever been in the creations of

his diseased mind.[334:1]

Hume had difficulty in extracting an answer to his letter of 26th June;

and probably it would not have been opened without the intervention of

Mr. Davenport. It was one of Rousseau's whims for some time not to

receive any letters; he said they were one of the methods by which his

enemies had persecuted him. On his first arrival he was to open none but

those which passed through the hands of his _Cher Patron_;[335:1] a

convenient arrangement, as it afterwards enabled him to accuse Hume of

tampering with his correspondence.

Two letters were received from Mr. Davenport, before Rousseau drew up

his charge.

MR. DAVENPORT _to_ HUME.

_Davenport, June 30, 1766._

DEAR SIR,--The receipt of your two last gave me much

uneasiness, which was augmented by some letters received

yesterday from Rousseau, along with yours, directed for me at

Wooton. Surely there must have been some excessive great

mistakes. It appears to me a heap of confusion, of which I can

make neither head nor tail. His letter to you is perfectly

astonishing: never any thing was so furious; so--I protest I

don't know what to call it! I long to see him: he certainly

will tell some reason or other that could induce him to write

in that manner. Till I have seen him I can give no sort of

answer to your queries, as he never spoke one syllable to me

about any difference at all. I can't, possibly, before

Saturday's post; as in this part of the country we have only

three days in a week to send letters to town. You desired me

to burn the duplicate after reading. That signifies nothing,

for I can send you the other which I received yesterday from

Wooton. Good God, he must be most excessively out of the way

about this pension! In short, I have not patience to add one

word more, till I hear what he can possibly have to say; and

then I'll immediately acquaint you.

I can't help being troubled at seeing your uneasiness, and

will with great pleasure do all in my power to assist in

freeing you from it; at least I'll do my best endeavours. I

am, your most obedient humble servant,

R. DAVENPORT.

_6th July, 1766._

DEAR SIR,--I went over to Wooton on Tuesday: had a long

conference with Mr. Rousseau on the subject of your last

letters; gave into his hands yours addressed to him, (which he

had not read before:) showed him those I received from you;

and in the most earnest manner insisted upon his giving you an

open answer to all your questions, which I told him you had

certainly a right to ask, and he could not have any pretence

whatever to refuse. His spirits seemed vastly fluttered.

However, he told me a long history of the whole affair. I

said, that as my knowledge of the French language was very

imperfect, I might easily misrepresent things, so begged him

to write down the whole matter. Before he began his discourse,

I could not help speaking a deal to him on the subject of the

pension, and expressed my astonishment at his even ever having

had the least thought of refusing the favours of the greatest

king in the world. To my infinite surprise, he directly

returned this answer, That he never had refused, or any thing

like it; spoke with the greatest respect and veneration of his

majesty, and with all sort of acknowledgments of gratitude to

General Conway, &c. You may well imagine my surprise

increased. He then began his story: but that I entirely leave

to his pen, as he has faithfully promised to perform. I am

really sorry for him; he's uneasy, frets perpetually, and

looks terribly. 'Tis almost impossible to conceive the oddness

of his extreme sensibility; so that I conclude, when he's

guilty of an error, his nerves are more in fault than his

heart. Things vex him to the utmost extent of vexation, which

would not even move such a dull soul as mine is. In short, I

perceive his disorder is jealousy: he thinks you are fond of

some _savans hommes_, whom he unfortunately calls his enemies.

It will give me the greatest satisfaction to hear that you

have received a satisfactory answer, and that every thing is

set right again.[337:1]

At last came the full outpouring of the long-treasured wrath, in a

letter dated the 10th of July, as long as an ordinary pamphlet, and

penned with the same neat precision as its predecessor. The reader will

not expect a document so well known and easily accessible to be

reprinted; and an abridgment would fail to give any notion of the rabid

eloquence with which the most paltry incidents are made to assume the

appearance of portentous charges; until, through vehemence of expression

and multitude of powerful words, they seem for the moment to acquire

substantial shape. Many of the charges contained in this "indictment"

have been already alluded to. The document begins with a statement of

its author's candour,[337:2] and hatred of every kind of artifice; and

no one can read the charges which follow, monstrously absurd as they

are, without seeing that they are made in the perfect sincerity of a

mind that saw all things through its own diseased medium. The following

is one of the substantive charges:--

I was informed that the son of the quack Tronchin,[338:1] my

most mortal enemy, was not only the friend of Mr. Hume, and

under his protection, but that they both lodged in the same

house; and when Mr. Hume found that I knew this, he imparted

it in confidence to me; assuring me that the son by no means

resembled the father. I lodged a few nights myself, together

with my governante, in the same house; and from the kind of

reception with which we were honoured by the landladies, who

are his friends, I judged in what manner either Mr. Hume, or

that man, who, as he said, was by no means like his father,

must have spoken to them both of her and me.

All these facts put together, added to a certain appearance of

things on the whole, insensibly gave me an uneasiness, which I

rejected with horror.

The description of the following scene must have been, to those who knew

Hume personally, irresistibly ludicrous. The picture of the phlegmatic

reserve of English manners, is made perfect by contrast. It appears from

Hume's letter, that the scene arose out of the dispute about the return

chaise.

One evening, after supper, as we were sitting silent by the

fireside, I caught his eyes intently fixed on me, as indeed

happened very often; and that in a manner of which it is very

difficult to give an idea. At that time he gave me a

steadfast, piercing look, mingled with a sneer, which greatly

disturbed me. To get rid of my embarrassment, I endeavoured to

look full at him in my turn; but, in fixing my eyes upon his,

I felt the most inexpressible terror, and was soon obliged to

turn them away. The speech and physiognomy of the good David

are those of an honest man; but where, great God! did this

honest man borrow those eyes which he fixes on his friends?

The impression of this look remained with me, and gave me much

uneasiness. My trouble increased even to a degree of fainting;

and if I had not been relieved by a flood of tears, I must

have been suffocated. Presently after this I was seized with

the most violent remorse: I even despised myself; till at

length, in a transport, which I still remember with delight, I

sprang on his neck, and embraced him eagerly; while, almost

choked with sobbing, and bathed in tears, I cried out, in

broken accents, "No, no, David Hume cannot be treacherous; if

he be not the best of men, he must be the basest." David Hume

politely returned my embraces, and gently tapping me on the

back, repeated several times, in a placid tone, "Why, what, my

dear sir! Nay, my dear sir! Oh, my dear sir!" He said nothing

more. I felt my heart yearn within me. We went to bed; and I

set out the next day for the country.

There is another charge against Hume, of once muttering in his sleep the

words _Je tiens J. J. Rousseau_; which he did not deny, saying, that he

could not feel certain as to what he might or might not have done when

asleep, though he doubted if it was his practice to dream in

French.[339:1] The proffered hospitalities and kindnesses of Hume are a

running charge throughout; wound up with the conclusion, that as he must

have seen that Rousseau was estranged from him, "If he supposed that in

such circumstances I should have accepted his services, he must have

supposed me to have been an infamous scoundrel. It was then in behalf of

a man whom he supposed to be a scoundrel that he so warmly solicited a

pension from his majesty."[340:1]

Hume's answer to this charge was as follows:

HUME _to_ ROUSSEAU.

_Lisle Street, Leicester Fields, July 22, 1766._

SIR,--I shall only answer one article of your long letter: it

is that which regards the conversation we had the evening

before your departure. Mr. Davenport had contrived a

good-natured artifice, to make you believe that a retour

chaise was ready to set out for Wooton; and I believe he

caused an advertisement be put in the papers, in order the

better to deceive you. His purpose only was to save you some

expenses in the journey, which I thought a laudable project;

though I had no hand either in contriving or conducting it.

You entertained, however, a suspicion of his design, while we

were sitting alone by my fireside; and you reproached me with

concurring in it. I endeavoured to pacify you, and to divert

the discourse; but to no purpose. You sat sullen, and was

either silent, or made me very peevish answers. At last you

rose up, and took a turn or two about the room, when all of a

sudden, and to my great surprise, you clapped yourself on my

knee, threw your arms about my neck, kissed me with seeming

ardour, and bedewed my face with tears. You exclaimed, "My

dear friend, can you ever pardon this folly? After all the

pains you have taken to serve me, after the numberless

instances of friendship you have given me, here I reward you

with this ill-humour and sullenness. But your forgiveness of

me will be a new instance of your friendship; and I hope you

will find at bottom, that my heart is not unworthy of it."

I was very much affected, I own; and I believe a very tender

scene passed between us. You added, by way of compliment no

doubt, that though I had many better titles to recommend me to

posterity, yet perhaps my uncommon attachment to a poor,

unhappy, and persecuted man, would not be altogether

overlooked.

This incident was somewhat remarkable; and it is impossible

that either you or I could so soon have forgot it. But you

have had the assurance to tell me the story twice, in a manner

so different, or rather so opposite, that when I persist, as I

do, in this account, it necessarily follows, that either you

are, or I am, a liar. You imagine, perhaps, that because the

incident passed privately without a witness, the question will

lie between the credibility of your assertion and of mine. But

you shall not have this advantage or disadvantage, whichever

you are pleased to term it. I shall produce against you other

proofs, which will put the matter beyond controversy.

First, You are not aware, that I have a letter under your

hand, which is tolerably irreconcilable with your account, and

confirms mine.[343:1]

Secondly, I told the story the next day, or the day after, to

Mr. Davenport, with a view of preventing any such good-natured

artifices for the future. He surely remembers it.

Thirdly, As I thought the story much to your honour, I told it

to several of my friends here. I even wrote it to Madame de

Boufflers at Paris. I believe no one will imagine that I was

preparing beforehand an apology, in case of a rupture with

you; which, of all human events, I should then have thought

the most incredible, especially as we were separated, almost

for ever, and I still continued to render you the most

essential services.

Fourthly, The story, as I tell it, is consistent and rational:

there is not common sense in your account. What! because

sometimes, when absent in thought, (a circumstance common

enough with men whose minds are intensely occupied,) I have a

fixed look or stare, you suspect me to be a traitor, and you

have the assurance to tell me of such black and ridiculous

suspicions! For you do not even pretend that before you left

London you had any other solid grounds of suspicion against

me.

I shall enter into no detail with regard to your letter: you

yourself well know that all the other articles of it are

without foundation. I shall only add in general, that I

enjoyed about a month ago an uncommon pleasure, in thinking

that, in spite of many difficulties, I had, by assiduity and

care, and even beyond my most sanguine expectations, provided

for your repose, honour, and fortune. But that pleasure was

soon imbittered, by finding that you had voluntarily and

wantonly thrown away all those advantages, and was become the

declared enemy of your own repose, fortune, and honour: I

cannot be surprised after this that you are my enemy. Adieu,

and for ever.[344:1]

Hume did not profess to submit to these attacks with the meekness of the

dove, as a few letters to his friends will show. Of the two following

letters to Blair, the one was written before, the other after the

reception of Rousseau's "indictment."

HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.

"_Lisle Street, 1st July, 1766._

"You will be surprised, dear Doctor, when I desire you most earnestly

never in your life to show to any mortal creature the letters I wrote

you with regard to Rousseau. He is surely the blackest and most

atrocious villain, beyond comparison, that now exists in the world, and

I am heartily ashamed of any thing I ever wrote in his favour. I know

you will pity me when I tell you that I am afraid I must publish this to

the world in a pamphlet, which must contain an account of the whole

transaction between us.[344:2] My only comfort is, that the matter will

be so clear as not to leave to any mortal the smallest possibility of

doubt. You know how dangerous any controversy on a disputable point

would be with a man of his talents. I know not where the miscreant will

now retire to, in order to hide his head from this infamy. I am,"

&c.[345:1]

"_15th July, 1766._