outline of my history. Through many difficulties I obtained a pension
for Rousseau. The application was made with his own consent and
knowledge. I write him, that all is happily completed, and he need only
draw for the money. He answers me, that I am a rogue and a rascal; and
have brought him into England merely to dishonour him. I demand the
reason of this strange language; and Mr. Davenport, the gentleman with
whom he lives, tells him that he must necessarily satisfy me. To-day I
received a letter from him, which is perfect frenzy. It would make a
good eighteen-penny pamphlet; and I fancy he intends to publish it. He
there tells me, that D'Alembert, Horace Walpole, and I, had, from the
first, entered into a combination to ruin him, and had ruined him. That
the first suspicion of my treachery arose in him while we lay together
in the same room of an inn in France. I there spoke in my sleep, and
betrayed my intention of ruining him. That young Tronchin lodged in the
same house with me at London; and Annie Elliot looked very coldly at him
as he went by her in the passage. That I am also in a close confederacy
with Lord Lyttelton, who, he hears, is his mortal enemy. That the
English nation were very fond of him on his first arrival; but that
Horace Walpole and I had totally alienated them from him. He owns,
however, that his belief of my treachery went no higher than suspicion,
while he was in London; but it rose to certainty after he arrived in the
country; for that there were several publications in the papers against
him, which could have proceeded from nobody but me, or my confederate,
Horace Walpole. The rest is all of a like strain, intermixed with many
lies and much malice. I own that I was very anxious about this affair,
but this letter has totally relieved me. I write in a hurry, merely to
satisfy your curiosity. I hope soon to see you, and am," &c.[346:1]
There could have been no incident better calculated than this to create
a sensation in the coteries of Paris. Immediately on receiving the first
angry letter, Hume sent an indignant account of the ingratitude and
malevolence of Rousseau to the Baron D'Holbach, which proved a
delightfully exciting morsel to a party assembled at his house; for the
baron had told him, from the beginning, that he was warming a serpent in
his bosom.[346:2] The very rapid celebrity which the story received does
not seem to have been anticipated by Hume, and he says, apologetically,
to Madame de Boufflers,--"I wrote, indeed, to Baron D'Holbach, without
either recommending or expecting secrecy: but I thought this story, like
others, would be told to eight or ten people; in a week or two, twenty
or thirty more might hear it, and it would require three months before
it would reach you at Pougues. I little imagined that a private story,
told to a private gentleman, could run over a whole kingdom in a moment.
If the King of England had declared war against the King of France, it
could not have been more suddenly the subject of conversation."[346:3]
Between the rupture and the publication of the narrative regarding it,
Hume seems to have written very abundantly on the subject, to his
friends in Paris. The following is one of his letters:--
HUME _to the_ ABBÉ LE BLANC.
_Lisle Street, Leicester Fields, 12th August, 1766._
MY DEAR SIR,--I have used the freedom to send to you, in two
packets, by this post, the whole train of my correspondence
with Rousseau, connected by a short narrative. I hope you will
have leisure to peruse it. The story is incredible, as well as
inconceivable, were it not founded on such authentic
documents. Surely never was there so much wickedness and
madness combined in one human creature; nor did ever any one
meet with such a return for such signal services as those I
performed towards him. But I am told that he used to say to
Duclos, and others, that he hated all those to whom he owed
any obligation. In that case I am fully entitled to his
animosity.
I am really at a loss what use to make of this collection. The
story, I am told, is very much the object of conversation at
Paris. Though my conduct has been entirely innocent, or
rather, indeed, very meritorious, it happens, no doubt, as is
usual in such ruptures, that I will bear a part of the blame;
from which a publication of these papers would entirely free
me: yet I own I have an antipathy and reluctance to appeal to
the public; and fear that such a publication would be the only
blame I could incur in this affair. You know that nobody's
judgment weighs farther with me than yours: think a little of
the matter. If M{me.} De Dupré were in town, I would desire
her to give these papers a perusal, and tell me her opinions.
Unhappily M. Trudaine would only understand the French part,
which is by far the most considerable. What would his friend
Fontenelle have done in this situation?
I am as great a lover of peace as he, and have kept myself as
free from all literary quarrels; but surely neither he nor any
other person was ever engaged in a controversy with a man of
so much malice,--of such a profligate disposition to lies, and
such great talents. It is nothing to dispute my style or my
abilities as an historian or philosopher; my books ought to
answer for themselves, or they are not worth the
defending;--to fifty writers who have attacked me on this
head, I never made the least reply. But this is a different
case; imputations are here thrown on my morals and my conduct;
and, though my case is so clear as not to admit of the least
controversy, yet it is only clear to those who know it; and I
am uncertain how far the public in Paris are in this case. At
London, a publication would be regarded as entirely
superfluous.
I must desire you to send these papers to D'Alembert after you
have read them: M. Turgot will get them from him. I should
desire that _he_ saw them before he sets out for his
government.
Does not M{me.} de Montigny laugh at me, that I should have
sent her, but a few weeks ago, the portrait of Rousseau, done
from an original in my possession, and should now send you
these papers, which prove him to be one of the worst men,
perhaps, that ever existed, if his frenzy be not some apology
for him. I beg my compliments to M. and M{me.} Fourqueux; and
am, with great truth and sincerity, my dear sir, your most
affectionate humble servant.[348:1]
To Adam Smith, who was then in Paris, he wrote the following letter,
without date:--
HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.
"You may see in M. D'Alembert's hands, the whole narrative of my affair
with Rousseau, along with the whole train of correspondence. Pray, is it
not a nice problem, whether he be not an arrant villain, or an arrant
madman, or both. The last is my opinion, but the villain seems to me to
predominate most in his character. I shall not publish them unless
forced, which you will own to be a very great degree of self-denial. My
conduct in this affair would do me a great deal of honour, and his would
blast him for ever, and blast his writings at the same time; for as
these have been exalted much above their merit, when his personal
character falls, they would of course fall below their merit. I am,
however, apprehensive that in the end I shall be obliged to publish.
About two or three days ago, there was an article in the _St. James's
Chronicle_, copied from the _Brussels Gazette_, which pointed at this
dispute. This may probably put Rousseau in a rage. He will publish
something, which may oblige me for my own honour to give the narrative
to the public. There will be no reason to dread a long train of
disagreeable controversy. One publication begins and ends it on my side.
Pray, tell me your judgment of my work, if it deserves the name. Tell
D'Alembert I make him absolute master, to retrench or alter what he
thinks proper, in order to suit it to the latitude of Paris.
"Were you and I together, dear Smith, we should shed tears at present
for the death of poor Sir James Macdonald. We could not possibly have
suffered a greater loss, than in that valuable young man. I am,"
&c.[349:1]
There is a letter by Smith on the subject, kind and honest. It must be
kept in view, that it was written not only before the series of
documents, mentioned in Hume's letter, had been sent to France, and
before the French friends had recommended Hume to publish, but before
the date of Rousseau's indictment. We shall, hereafter, find that Smith
seems to have withdrawn his objection to the publication.
ADAM SMITH _to_ HUME.
_Paris, 6th July, 1766._
MY DEAR FRIEND,--I am thoroughly convinced that Rousseau is as
great a rascal as you and as every man here believes him to
be; yet let me beg of you, not to think of publishing any
thing to the world, upon the very great impertinence which he
has been guilty of to you. By refusing the pension which you
had the goodness to solicit for him with his own consent, he
may have thrown, by the baseness of his proceedings, some
little ridicule upon you in the eyes of the court and the
ministry. Stand this ridicule, expose his brutal letter, but
without giving it out of your own hand, so that it may never
be printed; and if you can, laugh at yourself, and I shall
pawn my life, that before three weeks are at an end, this
little affair, which at present gives you so much uneasiness,
shall be understood to do you as much honour as any thing that
has ever happened to you. By endeavouring to unmask before the
public this hypocritical pedant, you run the risk of
disturbing the tranquillity of your whole life. By letting him
alone, he cannot give you a fortnight's uneasiness. To write
against him is, you may depend upon it, the very thing he
wishes you to do. He is in danger of falling into obscurity in
England, and he hopes to make himself considerable, by
provoking an illustrious adversary. He will have a great
party: the Church, the Whigs, the Jacobites, the whole wise
English nation, who will love to mortify a Scotchman, and to
applaud a man who has refused a pension from the king. It is
not unlikely, too, that they may pay him very well for having
refused it, and that even he may have had in view this
compensation. Your whole friends here wish you not to
write--the Baron,[350:1] D'Alembert, Madame Riccoboni,
Mademoiselle Rianecourt, M. Turgot, &c. &c. M. Turgot, a
friend every way worthy of you, desired me to recommend this
advice to you in a particular manner, as his most earnest
entreaty and opinion. He and I are both afraid that you are
surrounded with evil counsellors, and that the advice of your
English literati, who are themselves accustomed to publish all
their little gossiping stories in newspapers, may have too
much influence upon you. Remember me to Mr. Walpole, and
believe me, &c.
Smith was thus in consultation on the subject with the excellent Turgot,
who gave Hume his opinion at great length. On the 27th July, before he
could have heard of the long "indictment," he wrote[351:1] that he could
trace the rage of Rousseau to two causes: first, Hume being the author
of one of the sarcasms in Walpole's letter, a rumour which Turgot
appears to have believed; and second, the interpreting the letter to Mr.
Conway as a refusal of the pension, which it was not intended by
Rousseau to be. If the latter was one of Rousseau's grievances, he did
not make it a count in the indictment. Turgot was ignorant of the
strength of provocation which Hume received. He says, that it is a
mistake to suppose Rousseau's conduct the effect of deliberate
design,--a view in which every one not in the vortex of the dispute must
have coincided with him; and on the ground that no sensible person will
believe that he is guilty of the charges his excited enemy may make
against him, he advises Hume not to treat them seriously. He even hints
that Hume should acknowledge that he misinterpreted the letter about the
pension, and should endeavour to coax Rousseau back to good humour, as a
public exposure would be unpleasant to both parties. On the 7th
September, after having seen all the documents, he preserved the same
tone in speaking of Rousseau; recommending forbearance towards him: but
at the same time he expressed an opinion that Hume might find it
necessary to publish a narrative of the transaction.[352:1]
We find that Smith was also in communication with Madame de Boufflers,
who wrote to Hume at considerable length, in the knowledge of the first
angry letter, but not of the "indictment." She assumes a tone much the
same as that of Turgot, when he wrote in the same circumstances. She
expresses many regrets that Hume should have written so condemnatory a
letter to the Baron D'Holbach. He is told that those who _profess_ to be
his friends in France will abet him, because he is proving himself to be
a mere ordinary human being, instead of continuing to show his
superiority to the common frailties of humanity. He is entreated to look
compassionately on a man who has overwhelmed himself with calamities,
and to treat one who is capable only of injuring himself with generous
pity. While making these recommendations, she, as well as Turgot,
believed that one of the sarcasms in Walpole's letter had been suggested
by Hume.[354:1] The same tone was taken up by Lord Marischal; who,
writing on the 15th August from Potsdam, seems not to have perused the
"indictment." "You did all in your power," says this kind old soldier,
"to serve him; his écart afflicts me on his account more than yours, who
have, I am sure, nothing to reproach yourself with. It will be good and
humane in you, and like Le Bon David, not to answer."[354:2]
D'Alembert was at first opposed to a publication, and to an exposure of
the follies of the wise before "cette sotte bête appelée le public." So
early, however, as the 21st of July, he communicates the solemn opinion
of himself and other friends in Paris, that after the publicity which
the dispute has acquired, it will be necessary for Hume to print a
narrative.[354:3] He states that this is the opinion of all intelligent
people. He says at the same time, that he had been speaking with Adam
Smith on the subject, and though his name is not among those of the
committee who recommended the publication, it may be presumed that he
had at length admitted it to be necessary.
In connexion with the letter from D'Alembert, Hume wrote thus to
Walpole:--
DEAR SIR,--When I came home last night, I found on my table a
very long letter from D'Alembert, who tells me, that on
receiving from me an account of my affair with Rousseau, he
summoned a meeting of all my literary friends at Paris, and
found them all unanimously of the same opinion with himself,
and of a contrary opinion to me, with regard to my conduct.
They all think I ought to give to the public a narrative of
the whole. However, I persist still more closely in my first
opinion, especially after receiving the last mad letter.
D'Alembert tells me that it is of great importance for me to
justify myself from having any hand in the letter from the
King of Prussia. I am told by Crawford, that you had wrote it
a fortnight before I left Paris, but did not show it to a
mortal, for fear of hurting me; a delicacy of which I am very
sensible. Pray recollect if it was so. Though I do not intend
to publish, I am collecting all the original pieces, and I
shall connect them by a concise narrative. It is necessary for
me to have that letter and Rousseau's answer. Pray, assist me
in this work. About what time, do you think, were they
printed? I am, &c.[355:1]
Hume, afterwards, sent to Paris all the documents connected with
Rousseau's attack, to be published or not, at the discretion of his
friends; and they were published. If it be asked how he permitted so
cruel a thing to be done, the answer is, that he was human, and had been
deeply injured; that he had a reputation to preserve, and did not
consider himself bound to sacrifice it to the peace of his assailant.
Rousseau had triumphantly written, hither and thither, that Hume dared
not publish the "indictment." He had said, that if he did not see David
Hume exposed ere he died, he would cease to believe in Providence. He
was occupied in writing his celebrated Confessions, and had
significantly hinted to Hume that he would find himself pilloried there.
It is possible to create an ideal image of a mind that would have calmly
resisted all these impulses, and let the traducer proceed unnoticed in
his frantic labours. It is probable that if he had adopted this course,
Hume would in the end have been as completely absolved from the
accusations of Rousseau, as he was by the publication of the accusation.
Had he thus scorned to adopt the usual means of protecting his good
name, his character would have appeared, to all who believed in his
innocence, more magnanimous than it was. But it certainly would not have
been so natural; and many of those who seemed to have expected that the
metaphysician should be above the influence of ordinary human passions,
appear to have forgotten, that there are few even of the men whose
office it is to teach that those smitten on the one cheek should present
the other, who would have shown even as much forbearance on the occasion
as David Hume.
The editing of the French version of these documents was committed to
Suard, the author of the Mélanges de Littérature. In answer to a letter
of 2d November,[357:1] announcing the publication, Hume wrote to him in
the following terms, admitting, as the reader will perceive, that he had
used harsh expressions, and approving of their being softened.
HUME _to_ M. SUARD.
I cannot sufficiently express, my dear sir, all the
acknowledgments which I owe you for the pains you have taken
in translating a work, which so little merited your attention,
or the attention of the public. It is done entirely to my
satisfaction; and the introduction in particular is wrote with
great prudence and discretion in every point, except where
your partiality to me appears too strongly. I accept of it,
however, very willingly as a pledge of your friendship. You
and M. D'Alembert did well in softening some expressions,
especially in the notes; and I shall take care to follow these
corrections in the English edition. My paper, indeed, was not
wrote for the public eye; and nothing but a train of
unforeseen accidents could have engaged me to give it to the
press. I am not surprised, that those who do not consider nor
weigh those circumstances, should blame this appeal to the
public; but it is certain that if I had persevered in keeping
silence, I should have passed for the guilty person, and those
very people who blame me at present, would, with the
appearance of reason, have thrown a much greater blame upon
me. This whole adventure, I must regard as a misfortune in my
life: and yet, even after all is past, when it is easy to
correct any errors, I am not sensible that I can accuse myself
of any imprudence; except in accepting of this man when he
threw himself into my arms: and yet it would then have
appeared cruel to refuse him. I am excusable for not expecting
to meet with such a prodigy of pride and ferocity, because
such a one never before existed. But after he had declared war
against me in so violent a manner, it could not have been
prudent in me to keep silence towards my friends, and to wait
till he should find a proper time to stab my reputation. From
my friends, the affair passed to the public, who interested
themselves more in a private story, than it was possible to
imagine; and rendered it quite necessary to lay the whole
before them. Yet, after all, if any one be pleased to think,
that by greater prudence I could have avoided this
disagreeable extremity, I am very willing to submit. It is not
surely the first imprudence I have been guilty of.[358:1]
Among other distinctions, the publication of the controversy brought
Hume a letter from Voltaire, in which the patriarch gave the history of
his own grievances against Rousseau, with all his usual sarcasm; and
said, of that absorbing vanity for which he might have had more fellow
feeling, that Rousseau, believing himself worthy of a statue, thought
one half of the world was occupied in raising it on its pedestal, and
the other in pulling it down.[358:2]
This little collection, bearing the title, "Exposé succint de la
contestation qui s'est élévée entre M. Hume et M. Rousseau, avec les
pieces justificatives," was soon afterwards published in English, under
Hume's own superintendence. He judiciously observed, that a translation
would undoubtedly appear, and that it was more honest, and at the same
time more conducive to his reputation, that he should himself
superintend the publication.
He had intimated, that as Rousseau would probably impugn the genuineness
of the letters as they appeared in print, he would deposit the originals
in a public library. In this view, he addressed the following letter to
the librarian of the British Museum.
"_Edinburgh, 23d Jan. 1767._
"SIR,--As M. Rousseau had wrote to several of his correspondents, that I
never dared to publish the letters which he had wrote me; or if I
published them they would be so falsified that they would not be the
same, I was obliged to say in my preface, that the originals would be
consigned in the Museum. I hope you have no objection to the receiving
them. I send them by my friend M. Ramsay. Be so good as to give them the
corner of any drawer. I fancy few people will trouble you by desiring a
sight of them. All the world seems to be satisfied concerning the
foundation of that unhappy affair. Yet notwithstanding, I own, that I
never in my life took a step with so much reluctance as the consenting
to that publication. But as it appeared absolutely necessary to all my
friends at Paris, I could not withstand their united opinion. I have
also sent the original of M. Walpole's letter to me, which enters into
the collection. I am, sir, your most obedient, and most humble
servant."[360:1]
It appears that the trustees of the British Museum, for some one or
other of the inscrutable reasons which occasionally sway the counsels of
such bodies, declined to receive this very curious collection of
documents. Dr. Maty, writing to Hume on 22d April, 1767, says, "I longed
to have some conversation with you on the subject of the papers, which
were remitted to me by the hands of M{r.} Ramsay, and as our trustees
did not think proper to receive them, to restore them into yours. With
respect to these papers, give me leave to assure you, that I had never
any doubt about the merits of the cause. I have long ago fixed my
opinion about R----'s character, and think madness is the only excuse
that can be offered for his inconsistencies."[360:2]
Those original letters connected with the controversy, which were
addressed to Hume, whether by Rousseau or others, are among the papers
in possession of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. They bear marks of
having been much handled.[360:3] Of the letters addressed to Rousseau,
which of course were written in French, it is to be presumed that Hume
preserved the duplicates, which afterwards enabled him to show copies of
the documents on both sides. The originals probably do not exist; for
Rousseau, who held his own part in a controversy as the only important
one, appears not to have kept the letters addressed to him, though he
retained copies of his own.
The dispute with Rousseau very nearly produced a subsidiary discussion
with Horace Walpole. He said, alluding to the advice which had been
transmitted to Hume by D'Alembert, "Your set of literary friends are
what a set of literary men are apt to be, exceedingly absurd. They hold
a consistory to consult how to argue with a madman; and they think it
very necessary for your character, to give them the pleasure of seeing
Rousseau exposed; not because he has provoked you, but them. If Rousseau
prints, you must; but I certainly would not, till he does."
Walpole evidently looked on this quarrel as a small dispute between
small people;--something on a par with the wrangling of country
gentlemen about their preserves and their swing gates.[361:1] Yet, when
he found that his own name appeared to be connected with it, he thought
it right to publish "a narrative of what passed relative to the quarrel
of Mr. David Hume and J. J. Rousseau, as far as Mr. Horace Walpole was
concerned in it." He very distinctly absolves Hume from any connexion
with the fictitious letter of the King of Prussia. The only wrong of
which he had to complain was, that Hume published this exoneration, of
which it seems a publication was not expected, though the letter
contained the words, "You are at full liberty, dear sir, to make use of
what I say in your justification, either to Rousseau or any body else;"
and that, in printing the letter, the passage above cited, reflecting on
the literary circle of Paris, had been, from motives of delicacy towards
all parties, suppressed.[362:1]
The only portion of Walpole's pamphlet that appears to possess any
interest, contains Hume's remarks on his friend, D'Alembert. They were
intended as an answer to Walpole's spiteful sneers; but, though
eulogistic, and apparently just, they by no means exhibit a violent
encomiastic zeal.
D'Alembert is a very agreeable companion, and of
irreproachable morals. By refusing great offers from the
Czarina and the King of Prussia, he has shown himself above
interest and vain ambition. He lives in an agreeable retreat
at Paris, suitable to a man of letters. He has five pensions:
one from the King of Prussia, one from the French King, one as
member of the Academy of Sciences, one as member of the French
Academy, and one from his own family. The whole amount of
these is not six thousand livres a-year; on the half of which
he lives decently, and gives the other half to poor people
with whom he is connected. In a word, I scarce know a man,
who, with some few exceptions, (for there must always be some
exceptions,) is a better model of a _virtuous_ and
_philosophical_ character.
You see I venture still to join these two epithets as
inseparable, and almost synonymous, though you seem inclined
to regard them almost as incompatible. And here I have a
strong inclination to say a few words in vindication, both of
myself and my friends; venturing even to comprehend you in the
number. What new prepossession has seized you, to beat in so
outrageous a manner your nurses of Mount Helicon, and to join
the outcry of the ignorant multitude against science and
literature? For my part, I can scarce acknowledge any other
ground of distinction between one age and another, between one
nation and another, than their different progress in learning
and the arts. I do not say between one man and another,
because the qualities of the heart and temper, and natural
understanding, are the most essential to the personal
character; but being, I suppose, almost equal among nations
and ages, do not serve to throw a peculiar lustre on any. You
blame France for its fond admiration of men of genius; and
there may no doubt be, in particular instances, a great
ridicule in these affectations; but the sentiment, in general,
was equally conspicuous in ancient Greece; in Rome, during its
flourishing period; in modern Italy; and even, perhaps, in
England about the beginning of this century. If the case be
now otherwise, it is what we are to lament and be ashamed of.
Our enemies will only infer, that we are a nation which was
once, at best, but half civilized; and is now relapsing fast
into barbarism, ignorance, and superstition. I beg you also
to consider the great difference, in point of morals, between
uncultivated and civilized ages. But I find I am launching out
insensibly into an immense ocean of commonplace. I cut the
matter, therefore, short, by declaring it as my opinion, that
if you had been born a barbarian, and had every day cooked
your dinner of horse flesh, by riding on it fifty miles
between your breech and the shoulder of your horse, you had
certainly been an obliging, good-natured, friendly man; but,
at the same time, that reading, conversation, and travel, have
detracted nothing from these virtues, and have made a
considerable addition of other valuable and agreeable
qualities to them. I remain, not with ancient sincerity, which
was only roguery and hypocrisy, but very sincerely, dear sir,
&c.
Rousseau did not resign his pension, and made it be very distinctly
known that he would insist upon his claims to be paid what had been
promised; but he would not owe it to the intervention of David Hume. He
continued to reside for several months at Wooton, where he made some
progress in his renowned "Confessions." "He is, I am sure," says Mr.
Davenport, in one of his letters, "busy writing; and it should be some
large affair, from the quantity of paper he bought." Like other mental
patients, when long separated from his favourite excitement, his mind
became attuned to less tumultuous movements; and he ceased, in some
measure, to feel the want of notoriety. The visions of conspiracy and
treachery gradually disappeared, and now we find him, in his letters,
only saying; "Je n'ai rien à dire de M. Hume, sinon que je le trouve
bien insultant pour un bon homme, et bien bruyant pour un philosophe."
He had a genuine love of nature and of rural pursuits; and he appears to
have varied his literary labours, by joining in some projects of Mr.
Davenport for the cultivation of forest lands.
Writing to Blair, on 14th February, 1767, Hume says:--
"General Conway told me, on my arrival, that Rousseau had made an
application to him, through the canal of Mr. Davenport, to have his
pension granted to him. The general's answer was, that I was to be in
town in a few days; and, without my consent, and even full approbation,
he would take no step in that affair. You may believe that I exhorted
him to do so charitable an action. I wish he may not find a difficulty
with the King, who is very much prejudiced against Rousseau.[365:1] This
step of my old friend confirms the suspicion which I always entertained,
that he thought he had interest enough to obtain the pension of himself;
and that he had only picked a quarrel with me in order to free himself
from the humiliating burden of gratitude towards me. His motives,
therefore, were much blacker than many seem to apprehend them.
"A gentleman told me that he heard, from the French ambassador, that his
most Christian Majesty had given an arrêt, prohibiting, under the
severest penalties, the printing, vending, or dispersing, any paper of
Rousseau, or his partisans, against me. I dine with the ambassador
to-day, so shall know the truth of the matter, which scarce appears
credible. It is surely very honourable for me; but yet will occasion
that strange man to complain, that he is oppressed with power all over
the world. I am,"[365:2] &c.
At length, on the 31st of April, 1767, Rousseau and Mademoiselle Le
Vasseur suddenly disappeared from Wooton together. Hume thus describes
the incident in a letter to Blair:--
"You may, perhaps, have heard that Rousseau has eloped from Mr.
Davenport, without giving any warning; leaving all his baggage, except
Mademoiselle, about thirty pounds in Davenport's hands, and a letter on
the table, abusing him in the most violent terms, insinuating that he
was in a conspiracy with me to ruin him.[366:1] He took the road to
London, but was missing for about a fortnight. At last he emerges at
Spalding in Lincolnshire, whence he writes a letter to the Chancellor,
informing him that the bad usage he had met with in England, made it
absolutely necessary for him to evacuate the kingdom, and desiring his
lordship to send him a guard to escort him to Dover--this being the last
act of hospitality he will desire of the nation. He is plainly mad,
though I believe not more than he has been all his life. The pamphlet
you mention was wrote by one as mad as himself, and it was believed at
first to be by Tristram Shandy, but proves to be [by] one Fuseli an
engraver. He is a fanatical admirer of Rousseau, but owns he was in the
wrong to me. The pamphlet I sent to you was wrote by an English
clergyman, whom I never saw; a man of character, and rising in the
church,[366:2] for which reason it is more prudent in me to conceal his
name. When would _you_ have done so much for me."[367:1]
As Rousseau did not favour the world in his "Confessions," with the
adventures he encountered during this flight, it is of some interest, in
the absence of a personal narrative, to mark the impression produced by
the incident on an onlooker, whom it seems to have filled with mingled
feelings of compassion and astonishment. The following are some extracts
from Mr. Davenport's letters to Hume:--
MR. DAVENPORT _to_ HUME.
_Davenport, 13th May, 1767._
DEAR SIR,--After all my inquiries, I can't, for the life of
me, find out to what part my wild philosopher is fled. I sent
after him some papers, thinking they would most certainly find
him in London. No such matter: he is not to be found there.
They scarce took any thing along with them, but what they
carried on their backs. All the trunks, &c. are at Wooton; and
this odd man has just packed up his things, and left the keys
dangling at the locks of his boxes. No sort of direction for
me, though he knows I am in his debt between £30 and £40; and
I want, of all things, to inform him what he has to do in
relation to his majesty's bounty, which I am sure he will with
great satisfaction receive, because I have it so positively
under his own hand. You shall have the joy of perusing his
letter; but one dated about six days before must be added to
it. At present my gout is too much upon me to write copies of
them. Pray, if you hear where he is, do me the pleasure to
inform me. I am, &c. &c.
P.S.--I protest I pity him more and more, as I certainly
conclude that his head is not quite right.
_Davenport, Monday 18th._
I can't help giving you the trouble of this. Last night I
received a most melancholy letter from poor Rousseau, dated
Spalding in Lincolnshire. How, or on what account, he got to
that place, I can't for the life of me guess; but this I
learn, that he is most excessively sick of his situation, and
is returning to Wooton, as soon as, I suppose, he can well get
there. He has been all the time at an inn in that town. Pray,
was the place you mentioned to me in that county, any where
near Spalding? I own to you, I was quite moved to read his
mournful epistle. I am quite confirmed in my opinion of him:
this last from him, is entirely different in style, from any I
ever yet received. I have in my answer, desired he would write
to some friend of his in town, to authorize him to receive his
majesty's bounty, as it becomes due. I have told him that his
agent must apply, and show his letter to Mr. Lounds of the
Treasury. Poor Rousseau writes of nothing but his misery,
illness, afflictions; in a word, of his being the most
unfortunate man that ever existed. Good God! most of those
distresses are surely occasioned by his own unhappy temper,
which I really believe is not in his power to alter! so, let
him be where he will, I fear he is certain to be uneasy. His
passion for Botany has, as I conjecture, almost left him. If I
am right in my guess, I have no sort of doubt, but he will
again take to his pen, as 'tis impossible for his imagination
to remain idle. I am, &c.
_Davenport, May 25, 1767._
DEAR SIR,--'Tis with the greatest satisfaction I hear, this
poor unfortunate man will enjoy the pension. I am sure he lies
under a thousand obligations to you, and am extremely glad he
has wrote to General Conway. I hope he made use of at least
some expressions of gratitude and respect to that gentleman,
whose goodness of heart obtained this favour from his majesty.
I am sure you'll do your endeavour to save him from the
Bastile, or (which I more fear) the Archbishop of Paris'
prison.
He wrote me a letter from Spalding, dated 11th, in which he
says, I have great reason to be offended at his manner of
leaving Wooton. He says,--
Je préférois la liberté, au séjour de votre maison; ce
sentiment est bien excusable. Mais je préfère infiniment le
séjour de votre maison à tout autre captivité, et je
préférerois toute captivité à celle où je suis, qui est
horrible, et qui, quoiqu'il arrive ne sauroit durer. Si vous
voulez bien Monsieur me recevoir derechef chez vous, je suis
prêt à m'y rendre au cas qu'on m'en laisse la liberté, et
quand j'y serois après l'expérience qui j'ai faite,
difficilement serois-je tenté d'en ressortir pour chercher de
nouveaux malheurs. Si ma proposition vous agrée, tâchez,
Monsieur de me le faire savoir par quelque voie sûre, et de
faciliter mon retour d'ici chez vous.
He repeats the same request of sending to him two or three
times. This which he sent on the 11th, I received on the 17th.
On the 18th I despatched a servant to Spalding: instead of
staying for my answer, behold, on the 14th he set out for
Dover, and on that morning wrote again by the post to me, in
which he says, that if he had any assurance this letter of the
11th would come to me, and that I would agree to his
proposals, and again receive him, he should certainly stay for
an answer; but as he despaired of my receiving his, so he was
determined to pass the Channel, and I should hear from him
when he reached Calais, and quite sure of his liberty; that he
would write from thence and make me a very singular
proposition. He professes the greatest regard for me, &c. The
next is dated, Dover, 18th May, where he says, that he chose
to write to me from that place; that seeing the sea, and
finding he was in reality a free man, and might either go or
stay,--then, says he, I stopped, and intended to return to
you; but by chance seeing in a public paper how my departure
from Wooton was treated, caused him immediately to renounce
that idea. He finishes with many compliments, but without
telling me where to write to him, and I long to know how to
address my letters. Before he left Wooton, he disposed of
several long gowns amongst the poor people, went off in an old
French dress, and got a blue coat made for him at Spalding.
Pray, can you inform me who he has authorized to receive his
majesty's bounty; because I think I may pay into their hands
the money I have of his in mine. I should be pleased if you
could be so kind as to inform me what date his letter bore,
which he wrote to the Lord Chancellor. I am, dear sir, &c.
_4th July, 1767._
This week I received a letter from Rousseau, dated, Fleury
under Meudon, wrote with great complaisance; he returns a
thousand thanks for all the civilities he received from me at
Wooton; says that he is not fixed as to the place of his
future residence, but that he will inform me as soon as he has
made choice of one.
The style of this is vastly different from some of the last of
those which he wrote in England; no mention of captivities, no
wild imaginations of any kind, but entirely calm and composed.
I heartily wish he may continue so, then sure he will be
somewhat happy. I am, &c.
_6th July, 1767._
The good woman who is called my housekeeper was my nurse, near
ninety, and more than three parts blind. Mad{lle} and she
never could agree. I have heard something of the story of the
kettle and cinders,[370:1] but am inclinable to believe my
philosopher's resolutions were determined before that fray
happened. His governante has an absolute power over him, and
without doubt more or less influences all his actions. You
certainly guess right about the unaccountable quarrel with
you, to whom he has so many and great obligations: nay, I am
almost sure he very heartily repents and inwardly wants to be
reconciled. He has desired to hear from me often, and promises
to let me know how he goes on, as soon as ever he is the least
fixed. What he was writing, is the same he mentioned to you,
will be a large work, containing at least twelve volumes. I
am positively certain that when I left him, he had not
entirely finished one. There's nothing in it which in any
shape relates to state affairs or to ministers of state.
You shall see his letter the first opportunity; but, God help
him! I can't, for pity, give a copy; and 'tis so much mixed
with his own poor little private concerns, that it would not
be right in me to do it. . . . I am, dear sir, &c.[371:1]
In the following letters, Hume narrates these events to his Northern
friends, having been so frequently desired to give explanations of the
rumours regarding Rousseau's escapades which occasionally reached
Scotland, that he found it most expedient to answer miscellaneous
inquiries by general chronological narratives.
HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.
"_27th May, 1767._
"Since you are curious to hear Rousseau's story, I shall tell you the
sequel of it. A few days after his letter to the Chancellor, of which I
informed you, I got a letter from Davenport, who told me that he had
just received a letter from Rousseau, dated at Spalding, wherein that
wild philosopher, as he calls him, appeared very penitent, and contrite,
and melancholy; and expressed his purpose of returning immediately to
his former retreat at Wooton. The same day, and nearly the same hour,
General Conway received a long letter from him, dated at Dover, about
two hundred miles distant from Spalding. This great journey he had made
in two days; and had probably set out immediately after writing the
letter above-mentioned to Davenport.[372:1] This letter to General
Conway is the most frenzical imaginable. He there supposes that he was
brought into England by a plot of mine, in order to reduce him to
infamy, derision, and captivity. That General Conway, and all the most
considerable personages of the nation, and the nation itself, had
entered into this conspiracy. That he is at present actually a state
prisoner in General Conway's hands, and has been so ever since his
arrival in the kingdom. He entreats him, however, to allow him the
liberty of departing; warns him that it will not be safe to assassinate
him in private; as he is unhappily too well known not to have inquiries
made, if he should disappear on a sudden; and promises that if his
request be granted, his memoirs shall never be printed to disgrace the
English ministry and the English nation.
"He owns that he has wrote such memoirs, the chief object of which was
to deliver a faithful account of the treatment he has met with in
England; but he promises, that the moment he sets foot on the French
shore, he shall write to the friend in whose hand the manuscript is
deposited, to deliver it to the General, who may destroy it if he
pleases. He adds, that as it may be objected, that after recovering his
liberty he may do as he pleases, he offers, as a pledge of his
sincerity, to accept of his pension; after which he thinks no one will
imagine he could be so infamous as to write against the king's ministers
or his people. Amidst all this frenzy, he employs these terms as if a
ray of reason had for a moment broke into his mind. He says, speaking
of himself in the third person, 'Non-seulement il abandonne pour
toujours le projet d'écrire sa vie et ses mémoires, mais il ne lui
échappera jamais, ni de bouche ni par écrit, un seul mot de plainte sur
les malheurs qui lui sont arrivés en Angleterre; il ne parlera jamais de
M. Hume, ou il n'en parlera qu'avec honneur, et lorsqu'il sera pressé de
s'expliquer sur quelques indiscrètes plaintes, qui lui sont quelquefois
échappées dans le fort de ses peines, il les rejettera sans mystère, sur
son humeur aigrie et portée à la défiance, et aux ombrages par ce
malheureux penchant, ouvrage de ses malheurs, et qui maintenant y met le
comble.'[373:1]
"We hear that notwithstanding his imagined captivity, he has passed over
to Calais; where he is likely to experience what real captivity is. I
have, however, used my persuasion with Mons{r} de Guerchi to represent
him to his court as a real madman, more an object of compassion than of
anger. We shall no doubt see his Memoirs in a little time: which will be
full of eloquence and extravagance, though perhaps as reasonable as any
of his past productions; for I do not imagine he was ever much more in
his senses than at present. I think I may be entirely without anxiety
concerning all his future productions."[374:1]
The following letters to Smith appear to have been intended as a
comprehensive history of the flight of Rousseau. The reader will readily
excuse the repetition of some incidents already mentioned, and may
perhaps find an interest in comparing the impressions produced by the
events as they were successively occurring, with this general retrospect
of the whole.
HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.
"_London, 8th October, 1767._
"DEAR SMITH,--I shall give you an account of the late heteroclite
exploits of Rousseau, as far as I can recollect them. There is no need
of any secrecy: they are most of them pretty public, and are well known
to every body that had curiosity to observe the actions of that strange,
undefinable existence, whom one would be apt to imagine an imaginary
being, though surely not an _ens rationis_.
"I believe you know, that in spring last, Rousseau applied to General
Conway to have his pension. The General answered to Mr. Davenport, who
carried the application, that I was expected to town in a few days; and
without my consent and approbation he would take no steps in that
affair. You may believe I readily gave my consent. I also solicited the
affair, through the Treasury; and the whole being finished, I wrote to
Mr. Davenport, and desired him to inform his guest, that he needed only
appoint any person to receive payment. Mr. Davenport answered me, that
it was out of his power to execute my commission: for that his wild
philosopher, as he called him, had eloped of a sudden, leaving a great
part of his baggage behind him, some money in Davenport's hands, and a
letter on the table, as odd, he says, as the one he wrote to me, and
implying that Mr. Davenport was engaged with me in a treacherous
conspiracy against him! He was not heard of for a fortnight, till the
Chancellor received a letter from him, dated at Spalding in
Lincolnshire; in which he said that he had been seduced into this
country by a promise of hospitality; that he had met with the worst
usage; that he was in danger of his life from the plots of his enemies;
and that he applied to the Chancellor, as the first civil magistrate of
the kingdom, desiring him to appoint a guard at his own (Rousseau's)
expense, who might safely conduct him out of the kingdom. The Chancellor
made his secretary reply to him, that he was mistaken in the nature of
the country; for that the first post-boy he could apply to, was as safe
a guide as the Chancellor could appoint. At the very same time that
Rousseau wrote this letter to the Chancellor, he wrote to Davenport,
that he had eloped from him, actuated by a very natural desire, that of
recovering his liberty; but finding he must still be in captivity, he
preferred that at Wooton: for his captivity at Spalding was intolerable
beyond all human patience, and he was at present the most wretched being
on the face of the globe: he would therefore return to Wooton, if he
were assured that Davenport would receive him.
"Here I must tell you, that the parson of Spalding was about two months
ago in London, and told Mr. Fitzherbert, from whom I had it, that he had
passed several hours every day with Rousseau, while he was in that
place; that he was cheerful, good-humoured, easy, and enjoyed himself
perfectly well, without the least fear or complaint of any kind. However
this may be, our hero, without waiting for any answer, either from the
Chancellor or Mr. Davenport, decamps on a sudden from Spalding, and
takes the road directly to Dover; whence he writes a letter to General
Conway, seven pages long, and full of the wildest extravagance in the
world. He says, that he had endured a captivity in England, which it was
impossible any longer to submit to. It was strange, that the greatest in
the nation, and the whole nation itself, should have been seduced by one
private man, to serve his vengeance against another private man: he
found in every face that he was here the object of general derision and
aversion, and he was therefore infinitely desirous to remove from this
country. He therefore begs the General to restore him to his liberty,
and allow him to leave England; he warns him of the danger there may be
of cutting his throat in private; as he is unhappily a man too well
known, not to have inquiries made after him, should he disappear of a
sudden: he promises, on condition of his being permitted to depart the
kingdom, to speak no ill of the king or country, or ministers, or even
of Mr. Hume; as indeed, says he, I have perhaps no reason; my jealousy
of him having probably arisen from my own suspicious temper, soured by
misfortunes. He says, that he wrote a volume of Memoirs, chiefly
regarding the treatment he has met with in England; he has left it in
safe hands, and will order it to be burned, in case he be permitted to
go beyond seas, and nothing shall remain to the dishonour of the king
and his ministers.
"This letter is very well wrote, so far as regards the style and
composition; and the author is so vain of it, that he has given about
copies, as of a rare production. It is indeed, as General Conway says,
the composition of a whimsical man, not of a madman. But what is more
remarkable, the very same post, he wrote to Davenport, that, having
arrived within sight of the sea, and finding he was really at liberty to
go or stay, as he pleased, he had intended voluntarily to return to him;
but seeing in a newspaper an account of his departure from Wooton, and
concluding his offences were too great to be forgiven, he was resolved
to depart for France. Accordingly, without any farther preparation, and
without waiting General Conway's answer, he took his passage in a packet
boat, and went off that very evening. Thus, you see, he is a composition
of whim, affectation, wickedness, vanity, and inquietude, with a very
small if any ingredient of madness. He is always complaining of his
health; yet I have scarce ever seen a more robust little man of his
years. He was tired in England; where he was neither persecuted nor
caressed, and where, he was sensible, he had exposed himself. He
resolved, therefore, to leave it; and having no pretence, he is obliged
to contrive all those absurdities, which he himself, extravagant as he
is, gives no credit to. At least, this is the only key I can devise to
his character. The ruling qualities above-mentioned, together with
ingratitude, ferocity, and lying,--I need not mention eloquence and
invention,--form the whole of the composition.
"When he arrived at Paris, all my friends, who were likewise all his,
agreed totally to neglect him. The public, too, disgusted with his
multiplied and indeed criminal extravagancies, showed no manner of
concern about him. Never was such a fall from the time I took him up,
about a year and a half before. I am told by D'Alembert and Horace
Walpole, that, sensible of this great alteration, he endeavoured to
regain his credit by acknowledging to every body his fault with regard
to me: but all in vain: he has retired to a village in the mountains of
Auvergne, as M. Durand tells me, where nobody inquires after him. He
will probably endeavour to recover his fame by new publications; and I
expect with some curiosity the reading of his Memoirs, which will I
suppose suffice to justify me in every body's eyes, and in my own, for
the publication of his letters and my narrative of the case. You will
see by the papers, that a new letter of his to M. D., which I imagine to
be Davenport, is published. This letter was probably wrote immediately
on his arrival at Paris; or perhaps is an effect of his usual
inconsistence: I do not much concern myself which. Thus he has had the
satisfaction, during a time, of being much talked of, for his late
transactions; the thing in the world he most desires: but it has been at
the expense of being consigned to perpetual neglect and oblivion. My
compliments to Mr. Oswald; and also to Mrs. Smith. I am," &c.[378:1]
HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.
"_London, 17th October, 1767._
"DEAR SMITH,--I sit down to correct a mistake or two in the former
account which I gave you of Rousseau. I saw Davenport a few days ago,
who tells me, that the letter inserted in all the newspapers, was never
addressed to him. He even doubts its being genuine; both because he
knows it to be opposite to all his sentiments with regard to me, to whom
he desires earnestly to be reconciled, and because it is too absurd and
extravagant, and seems to be contrived rather as a banter upon him.
Davenport added, that Rousseau was retired to some place in France, and
had changed his name and his dress:[379:1] but wrote to him that he was
the most miserable of all beings; that it was impossible for him to stay
where he was; and that he would return to his old hermitage, if
Davenport would accept of him. Indeed, he has some reason to be
mortified with his reception in France; for Horace Walpole, who has very
lately returned thence, tells me, that though Rousseau is settled at
Cliché, within a league of Paris, nobody inquires after him, nobody
visits him, nobody talks of him, every one has agreed to neglect and
disregard him: a more sudden revolution of fortune than almost ever
happened to any man--at least to any man of letters.
"I asked Mr. Davenport about those Memoirs, which Rousseau said he was
writing, and whether he had ever seen them. He said, yes, he had; it was
projected to be a work in twelve volumes; but he had as yet gone no
farther than the first volume, which he had entirely composed at Wooton.
It was charmingly wrote, and concluded with a very particular and
interesting account of his first love, the object of which was a person
whose first love it also was. Davenport, who is no bad judge, says, that
these Memoirs will be the most taking of all his works; and, indeed, you
may easily imagine what such a pen would make of such a subject as that
I mentioned. Meanwhile it appears clearly, what I told you before, that
he is no more mad at present, than he has been during the whole course
of his life, and that he is capable of the same efforts of genius. I
think I may wait in security his account of the transactions between us.
But, however, this incident, which I foresaw, is some justification of
me for publishing his letters, and may apologise for a step, which you,
and even myself, have been inclined sometimes to blame, and always to
regret."[380:1]
So ended Rousseau's wild sojourn, in what he termed "l'heureuse terre,
où sont nés David Hume et le Maréchal d'Ecosse." When the wounds
inflicted on his benefactor by ungrateful actions and uncharitable
interpretations had been healed by time, and the conduct of him who had
occasioned them was seen no longer through the excited medium of
lacerated feelings, the hour had come for the just understanding to aid
the kind heart, in estimating the character of the assailant; for
finding that, deep as were the wounds he might inflict on others, there
was an arrow still more deeply buried in his own bosom; that
commiseration should take the place of resentment; and that the
wanderer's footsteps should be accompanied by the prayer, that peace
might revisit his disturbed spirit. Hume felt, perhaps, what he could
not have expressed so well as one whose mind had too much in common with
that which he describes,
His life was one long war with self-sought foes;
Or friends by him self-banished; for his mind
Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose,
For its own cruel sacrifice, the kind,
'Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind.
But he was frenzied,--wherefore, who may know?
Since cause might be which skill could never find;
But he was frenzied by disease or woe,
To that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning show.
Hume was not a man given to the clamorous expression of contritions or
regrets. It is in his silence and his subsequent acts that we find him
desirous to compensate for the punishment he had inflicted on his
assailant. The letters of his French friends, during the summer of 1767,
show that he had earnestly exerted himself to protect Rousseau from the
vengeance of the government;[381:1] and there is all reason to believe,
that it was through this intervention that the wanderer was permitted to
pursue his course in peace. On the other hand, when the dark cloud had
completely passed away, the monomaniac appears to have awakened to a
distressing consciousness of what he had done. He afterwards attributed
his conduct in England to our foggy atmosphere, which had filled his
mind with gloom and discontent; and the work at which he laboured busily
with the fierce excitement of him who forges a weapon to avenge his
wrongs, stopped short at the very point where his narrative of injuries
was to commence.
FOOTNOTES:
[319:1] It might be expected, from the nature of Mr. Davenport's
letters, that his descendants should be in possession of letters, either
by Hume or Rousseau bearing on this curious passage of literary history.
I believe I am committing no breach of private confidence in saying,
that this family, to whom I am indebted for many polite attentions, lost
all such documents, along with other valuable papers. They were
destroyed by an attorney,--who at the same time put an end to his own
life.
[320:1] This letter was written in French; and the person to whom it was
addressed is not known. It was published in a miscellany, of which a
translation (from which the above extract is made) appeared in 1799, as
"Original Letters of J. J. Rousseau, Butta Fuoco, and David Hume."
[320:2] Private Correspondence, p. 153.
[320:3] Exposé Succinct.
[320:4] See above, p. 304. One of Rousseau's favourite amusements was,
drawing a vehement picture of his misfortunes and his poverty; and after
having thus laid a sort of trap, catching some benevolent person in the
act of secretly attempting to aid him. Many of his letters are like
those of a petty dealer, who is afraid of being imposed on, and must see
that all the consignments are exact, as per invoice and account. The
matter of the return chaise already alluded to, slightly tinges the good
humour of the former of these letters. In the other, there are some
remonstrances about a model of a bust of himself, which he will not take
from the artist unless it is to be paid for. The same letter contains
the following passage, which the editors of the "Exposé Succinct" did
not think it necessary to print. It illustrates Rousseau's occasional
attention to small matters.
"Je vous suis obligé d'avoir bien voulu solder le mémoire de M. Stuart.
J'y trouve deux articles qui ne sont pas de ma connoissance. L'un de £1
14 pour du café, et l'autre de 5 sh. pour un moulin. Il est vrai que M.
Stuart avoit bien voulu se charger de ces commissions, mais je ne les ai
point recues ni avec mon bagage ni autrement, et n'en ai aucun avis que
par son mémoire."
[321:1] Though it has been repeated in so many other places, it seems
necessary, for the distinctness of the narrative, here to print this
famous letter.
"Mon cher Jean Jacques,
"Vous avez renoncé à Genève, votre patrie. Vous vous êtes fait
chasser de la Suisse, pays tant vanté dans vos écrits; la
France vous a décrété; venez donc chez moi. J'admire vos
talens; je m'amuse de vos rêveries qui (soit dit en passant)
vous occupent trop et trop longtemps. Il faut à la fin être
sage & heureux; vous avez fait assez parler de vous, par des
singularités peu convenables à un véritable grand homme:
démontrez à vos enemis que vous pouvez avoir quelquefois le
sens commun: cela les fâchera sans vous faire tort. Mes états
vous offrent une retraite paisible: je vous veux du bien, & je
vous en ferai, si vous le trouvez bon. Mais si vous vous
obstinez à rejetter mon secours, attendez-vous que je ne le
dirai à personne. Si vous persistez à vous creuser l'esprit
pour trouver de nouveaux malheurs, choisissez-les tels que
vous voudrez; je suis roi, je puis vous en procurer au gré de
vos souhaits; et, ce qui sûrement ne vous arrivera pas
vis-à-vis de vos ennemis, je cesserai de vous persécuter,
quand vous cesserez de mettre votre gloire à l'être. Votre bon
ami,
FREDERICK."
Rousseau thought it worse than strange, that the person who wrote this
letter should have been intrusted with the conveyance of a parcel to
him, holding it to be clear that Walpole must necessarily be a person
who could not be intrusted with his property. M. Musset Pathay, in his
"Vie de Rousseau," makes a serious charge against Hume, in connexion
with Walpole's conduct. Hume confessed his being present when one of the
pleasantries of the letter was uttered in conversation. "Horace
Walpole's letter," he says to Madame de Barbantane, "was not founded on
any pleasantry of mine. The only pleasantry in that letter came from his
own mouth in my company, at Lord Ossory's table, which my lord remembers
very well." (_Private Correspondence_, p. 146.) On this passage, M.
Musset says: "Elle prouve que l'historien Anglais s'est permis une
plaisanterie contre Jean Jacques, au moment même ou, lui témoignant le
plus grand intérêt, il se préparait à l'emmener en Angleterre. Ainsi, à
l'époque où David donnait à Rousseau les plus grandes marques d'amitié,
il contribuait d'un côté à le rendre un objet de ridicule, par un bon
mot qui fit partie du persiflage d'Horace Walpole," (i. 115.) If the
reader thinks he here finds a French statesman announcing the rigid
doctrine of sincerity, that no man should patiently hear his friend's
foibles laughed at, he will find, on examining the passage, that M.
Musset has chosen to speak of Hume as the _author_ of the jest. In
harmony with this view he, innocently it is to be presumed, translates
the above sentence in Hume's letter thus:--"La seule plaisanterie que je
me sois permise relativement à la prétendue lettre du roi de Prusse, fut
faite _par moi_ à la table de Lord Ossory!"
[323:1] Private Correspondence, p. 133.
[323:2] Madame de Boufflers writes on 6th May:--
"Je ne puis croire que le violent chagrin dont parle J. J. vienne de la
lettre de M. Walpole, quoique sûrement elle l'a du beaucoup affecter. Je
crains bien plutôt que quelque dégoût de M{elle.} Le Vasseur ou quelques
querelles entre eux n'en soit la cause; éclaircissez cela de grâce, et
ôtez moi du l'inquiétude où vous m'avez prise."--MS. R.S.E.
[324:1] That Hume was, in the meantime, quite unconscious of any cause
of offence against himself, is evident from his writing to Madame de
Boufflers, on 16th May:
"As to the deep calamity of which he complains, it is impossible for me
to imagine it. I suppose it is some trifle, aggravated by his melancholy
temper and lively fancy. I shall endeavour to learn from Mr. Davenport,
who is just gone to that neighbourhood. Lady Aylesbury and General
Conway believe that it is Horace Walpole's letter which still torments
him. That letter was put into our newspapers; which produced an answer,
full of passion, and indeed of extravagance, complaining in the most
tragical terms of the forgery, and lamenting that the impostor should
find any abettors and partisans in England. Mr. Walpole has wrote a
reply, full of vivacity and wit, but sacrifices it to his humanity, and
is resolved that no copy of it shall get abroad. He assures me that he,
as well as Madame du Deffand, were entirely innocent of that publication
at Paris: it was a lady, a friend of yours, who gave the first copy."
_Private Correspondence_, pp. 170-171.
[325:1] MS. R.S.E.
[325:2] Musset Pathay, Vie de Rousseau, vol. i. p. 116. This gentleman
concludes that, within the space of twenty-four hours, Rousseau must
have had reason to change from the extremity of confidence in Hume, to a
full conviction of his guilt. But with all his desire to vindicate
Rousseau, his account of the manner in which this conclusion had been
reached, does not tend to convince one that it was well founded.
"Mais, d'après l'étude du caractère de Rousseau, d'après
l'observation qui prouve que, dans la solitude, l'imagination
s'effarouche aisément, il est plus naturel de croire que,
tout-à-coup, une multitude de circonstances s'offrirent à la
fois à la mémoire de Jean Jacques, et, quoique minutieuses en
elles mêmes, qu'elles devinrent, par leur nombre, et leur
coïncidence, importantes et graves. Il ne fallait qu'un
incident pour les rendre telles, comme une goutte suffit pour
faire déborder un vase plein d'eau."
[326:1] Printed documents of the controversy--Ritchie's Life of Hume.
[328:1] Documents of the controversy, &c.
[329:1] There is certainly one important exception to this method of
viewing the matter, and that in a book otherwise of merit. One would
hardly expect to meet with a work of the nineteenth century, containing
a serious vindication of Rousseau, as a sane man who was in the right in
this quarrel, while Hume was in the wrong. Yet some such task has been
undertaken in the "Histoire de la Vie et des Ouvrages de J. J.
Rousseau," by the late M. Musset Pathay, (1821,) which may be ranked
among the boldest efforts of that school of biographers, whose principle
is, that the hero of their tale must not be admitted to have had any
vice or weakness. M. Musset's charges against Hume are much of the same
mystical character with those made by Rousseau himself, and amount to
this, that there was something in the whole aspect of affairs not quite
satisfactory. He deals with some small matters of fact,--he is very
indignant that Hume should, as he confesses, have tried to prevent
Rousseau from plunging into a distant solitude; and we have already seen
the effect which his zeal has had on his discrimination, in the affair
of Walpole's letter. He makes one discovery, of which it would be unjust
to deny him the full merit. Hume says, in his Vindication, "It is with
reluctance I say it, but I am compelled to it. I now know of a
certainty, that this affectation of extreme poverty and distress was a
mere pretence, a petty kind of imposture, which M. Rousseau successfully
employed to excite the compassion of the public: but I was then very far
from suspecting any such artifice." In a letter to Madame de Boufflers,
he says, "I should be glad to know how your inquiries at M. Rougemont's
have turned out. It is only matter of mere curiosity: for even if the
fact should prove against him, which is very improbable, I should only
regard it as one weakness more, and do not make my good opinion of him
to depend on a single incident." (_Private Correspondence_, p. 130.) Now
Rougemont was a banker, and M. Musset infers that Hume had been making
inquiries as to Rousseau's pecuniary affairs. Perhaps, when he found a
man proclaiming his destitution to all Europe, and flinging back, in the
faces of the givers, the assistance his importunities extracted from the
compassionate, it was not a very great crime to endeavour to ascertain
the truth of any rumour, that the misery was not so extreme as the
sufferer painted it, and the necessity for their intervention not so
great as the compassionate believed it to be. There is one letter from
M. Rougemont among the MSS. R.S.E. dated 5th March, 1766. If it does not
contradict, it certainly does not confirm the theory of M. Musset. It is
too long and commonplace to be here inserted in full. There is not a
word in it about money matters; and it appears to be written in answer
to some high praise of Rousseau by Hume. The banker says:
"L'opinion que vous avez de M. Rousseau ne me laisse plus aucun doute:
et c'est avec la plus grande satisfaction que je vois que mon
enthusiasme ne m'a point aveuglée; les détails que vous me faites, me
persuadent encore plus de la vérité d'une observation que vous avez
faite un soir; c'est, qu'il n'est qu'un homme ordinaire quand son coeur
ne sent rien." MS. R.S.E.
One might indeed infer, that Hume's inquiries were to discover whether
the solitude of Wooton would be likely to be favourable to Rousseau. M.
Rougemont thinks it would not. "La solitude," he says, "qui peut cesser
quand on veut, peut avoir des charmes; mais je ne puis croire qu'il ne
soit pas fort malheureux d'être nécessairement privé de toute société."
The rest of his letter is devoted to Parisian literary gossip, with
which the banker appears to have been ambitious of showing his
acquaintance.
It is not when reviewing the conduct of Hume, but when recalling such
observations as those made by Dr. Johnson on Rousseau, that one is
tempted to sympathize with M. Musset. Of the rigid moralist's opinions,
Boswell gives us the following sketch:
"One evening, at the Mitre, Johnson said sarcastically to me, 'It seems,
sir, you have kept very good company abroad: Rousseau and Wilkes!' I
answered, with a smile, 'My dear sir, you don't call Rousseau bad
company: do you really think _him_ a bad man?' Johnson. 'Sir, if you are
talking jestingly of this, I don't talk with you. If you mean to be
serious, I think him one of the worst of men; a rascal who ought to be
hunted out of society as he has been. Three or four nations have
expelled him; and it is a shame that he is protected in this country.
Rousseau, sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner sign a sentence for his
transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from the Old Bailey
these many years. Yes, I should like to have him work in the
plantations.'"--Boswell, vol. ii. p. 314, ed. 1835.
[331:1] A scientific gentleman, whose writings on medical jurisprudence
are of high authority, and who had read the Hume and Rousseau
controversy, observed to me, that Rousseau's case should have been
treated as one of monomania.
[332:1] Whoever would notice the practical sagacity of Rousseau's
genius, may compare the early part of "Émile," with "Combe on the
Management of Infancy," and observe in how many things the theorist and
the scientific inquirer coincide.
[333:1] "We have had," says Burke, in his Reflections on the French
Revolution, "the great professor and founder of the philosophy of vanity
in England. As I had good opportunities of knowing his proceedings,
almost from day to day, he left no doubt on my mind that he entertained
no principle, either to influence his heart or guide his understanding,
but vanity: with this vice he was possessed to a degree little short of
madness."
[333:2] D'Alembert writes to Hume, on 4th August:
"Il y a dans la drôle de lettre de _ce joli petit homme_, comme vous
l'appelliez autrefois, une phrase sacramentelle ou sacramentale, à
laquelle vous n'avez peut-être pas fait autant d'attention qu'elle le
mérite; c'est que _le public, qui d'abord avoit eté fort amoureux de
lui, commença bientôt après à le négliger_. Voilà ce qui le fâche
véritablement, et il s'en prend à qui il peut. Vous vous êtes chargé de
montrer l'ours à la foire; sa loge qui d'abord etoit pleine, est bientôt
restée vuide, et il vous en rend responsable. Il est d'ailleurs três
certain, et je le sçais de Duclos son ami, à qui il l'a dit, ainsi qu'à
bien d'autres, qu'il _ne peut pas souffrir toutes les personnes à qui il
a obligation_: et sur ce pied là, vous avez bien des droits à sa haine."
MS. R.S.E.
[334:1] During his sojourn in England, he was in dread of being
kidnapped. The late Professor Walker remembered being asked by Lord Bute
to accompany Rousseau on a botanizing excursion on the banks of the
Thames, and that he was just explaining something about marine plants
being acrid, when a Cockney pic-nic party of youths, dressed as sailors,
landed. Rousseau instantly took to his heels! The professor being
responsible for his safe restoration, followed, and, after a
considerable chase, succeeded in running him down. Rousseau, seeing that
there were no other pursuers, passed the matter off by the observation
that marine _men_ were acrid. After his return from England, an account
for nine francs, which it appears he was not due, was presented against
him by a tradesman. He called on all Europe to witness this conspiracy
to destroy his character, and raised such an outcry as must have
effectually frightened sober tradesmen from overcharging interesting
solitaries.
[335:1] Even his trusted friend, Du Peyrou, writing to Hume on 13th
February, after many eulogiums on his kindness to the unfortunate,
says:--
"C'est sous votre couvert qu' M. Rousseau m'a marqué, Monsieur, que je
devois lui écrire: voudriez vous donc avoir la complaisance de lui faire
parvenir l'incluse à son adresse." MS. R.S.E.
[337:1] MS. R.S.E.
[337:2] He was a cordial hater of all uncandidness in others, whatever
he might be in his own case. Morellet tells a laughable anecdote of
Rousseau's presence on an occasion when some of the wicked wits of Paris
were what is commonly called "trotting out" a vain poet, and making him
say ridiculous things of his own genius. Rousseau, after walking
restlessly about the room, burst into a rage, told the poet that he was
a poor paltry idiot, and the company were only encouraging him to make
game of him.
[338:1] An incident had just happened to make the name of the "quack
Tronchin," peculiarly offensive. This distinguished physician had
received public honours at Parma. After strenuous popular opposition, he
had been permitted to practise the new precautionary remedy of
inoculation on the young prince Ferdinand. The experiment had been
successful; all Parma, excited by loyal joy, petitioned the Grand-duke
to admit the physician to the rank of citizen. A tablet, commemorating
the triumph of science, was erected in the town hall, and a medal with
suitable devices was struck in honour of the operator. He was a relation
of Tronchin the Procureur Général of Geneva, author of _Lettres écrites
de la Campagne_, which Rousseau answered in _Lettres de la Montagne_.
See him mentioned above, p. 186.
[339:1] Morellet questions if he _could_ have done so, i. 106.
[340:1] The following jeu-d'esprit, which was printed in some of the
periodicals of the day, is really a pretty accurate abridgment of
Rousseau's paper. It has the appearance of having been written by a
Scottish lawyer:--
_Heads of an Indictment laid by J. J. Rousseau, philosopher, against D.
Hume, Esq._
1. That the said David Hume, to the great scandal of
philosophy, and not having the fitness of things before his
eyes, did concert a plan with Mess. Tronchin, Voltaire, and
D'Alembert, to ruin the said J. J. Rousseau for ever, by
bringing him over to England, and there settling him to his
heart's content.
2. That the said David Hume did, with a malicious and
traitorous intent, procure, or cause to be procured, by
himself, or somebody else, one pension of the yearly value of
£100 or thereabouts, to be paid to the said J. J. Rousseau, on
account of his being a philosopher, either privately or
publicly, as to him the said J. J. Rousseau should seem meet.
3. That the said David Hume did, one night after he left
Paris, put the said J. J. Rousseau in bodily fear, by talking
in his sleep; although the said J. J. Rousseau doth not know
whether the said David Hume was really asleep, or whether he
shammed Abraham, or what he meant.
4. That, at another time, as the said David Hume and the said
J. J. Rousseau were sitting opposite each other by the
fireside in London, he, the said David Hume, did look at him,
the said J. J. Rousseau, in a manner of which it is difficult
to give any idea: That he, the said J. J. Rousseau, to get rid
of the embarrassment he was under, endeavoured to look full at
him, the said David Hume, in return, to try if he could not
stare him out of countenance; but in fixing his eyes against
his, the said David Hume's, he felt the most inexpressible
terror, and was obliged to turn them away, insomuch that the
said J. J. Rousseau doth in his heart think and believe, as
much as he believes any thing, that he, the said David Hume,
is a certain composition of a white-witch and a rattlesnake.
5. That the said David Hume on the same evening, after
politely returning the embraces of him, the said J. J.
Rousseau, and gently tapping him on the back, did repeat
several times, in a good-natured easy tone, the words, "Why,
what, my dear sir! Nay, my dear sir! Oh, my dear sir!" From
whence the said J. J. Rousseau doth conclude, as he thinks
upon solid and sufficient grounds, that he the said David Hume
is a traitor; albeit he, the said J. J. Rousseau, doth
acknowledge, that the physiognomy of the good David is that of
an honest man, all but those terrible eyes of his, which he
must have borrowed; but he the said J. J. Rousseau vows to God
he cannot conceive from whom or what.
6. That the said David Hume hath more inquisitiveness about
him than becometh a philosopher, and did never let slip an
opportunity of being alone with the governante of him the said
J. J. Rousseau.
7. That the said David Hume did most atrociously and
flagitiously put him, the said J. J. Rousseau, philosopher,
into a passion; as knowing that then he would be guilty of a
number of absurdities.
8. That the said David Hume must have published Mr. Walpole's
letter in the newspapers, because, at that time, there was
neither man, woman, nor child, in the island of Great Britain,
but the said David Hume, the said J. J. Rousseau, and the
printers of the several newspapers aforesaid.
9. That somebody in a certain magazine, and somebody else in a
certain newspaper, said something against him, the said John
James Rousseau, which he, the said J. J. Rousseau, is
persuaded, for the reason abovementioned, could be nobody but
the said David Hume.
10. That the said J. J. Rousseau knows, that he, the said
David Hume, did open and peruse the letters of him, the said
J. J. Rousseau, because he one day saw the said David Hume go
out of the room, after his own servant, who had, at that time,
a letter of the said J. J. Rousseau's in his hands; which
_must_ have been in order to take it from the servant, open
it, and read the contents.
11. That the said David Hume did, at the instigation of the
devil, in a most wicked and unnatural manner, send, or cause
to be sent, to the lodgings of him, the said J. J. Rousseau,
one dish of beefsteaks, thereby meaning to insinuate, that he,
the said J. J. Rousseau, was a beggar, and came over to
England to ask alms: whereas be it known to all men by these
presents, that he, the said John James Rousseau, brought with
him the means of subsistence, and did not come with an empty
purse; as he doubts not but he can live upon his labours--with
the assistance of his friends; and in short can do better
without the said David Hume than with him.
12. That besides all these facts put together, the said J. J.
Rousseau did not like a certain appearance of things on the
whole.
[343:1] "That of the 22d of March, which is full of cordiality, and
proves that M. Rousseau had never, to that moment, entertained any of
those black suspicions of perfidy which he publishes at present. There
is only in that letter a peevish passage about the affair of his
chaise."--Hume.
[344:1] Documents of the controversy.
[344:2] Such was his first impulse. He evidently, after viewing the
matter more coolly, was disinclined to publish, but he was finally
prevailed on to do so.
[345:1] MS. R.S.E.
[346:1] MS. R.S.E.
[346:2] Morellet, i. 105.
[346:3] Priv. Cor. 204.
[348:1] Voltaire et Rousseau par Henry Lord Brougham, App. No. IX. Lord
Brougham twice honoured me with an intimation that he had obtained
letters of David Hume, in Paris, which were too late for his own "Lives
of Men of Letters," and were to be sent to _me_. While thankfully
waiting for their arrival, I observed, on the title page of his
lordship's French lives of Voltaire and Rousseau, that the book
contained "Léttres entièrement inédites de _Hume_." Thinking it not
impossible that the letters destined for my use, had thus, by some
accident, been diverted from their destination, I have printed them in
this book, according to their dates, in the fullest assurance of his
lordship's cordial concurrence.
[349:1] MS. R.S.E.
[350:1] D'Holbach.
[351:1] MS. R.S.E.
[352:1]
"_A Paris, le 7 Septembre, 1766._
"J'ai trouvé ici, monsieur, votre lettre de 5 Août, à mon retour d'un
voyage que j'ai été faire en Normandie. D'Alembert, qui venoit alors de
recevoir votre récit de l'Histoire de Rousseau avec les lettres que vous
y avez insérées, me l'a communiqué. Je vous crois à présent si ennuyé de
cette affaire que je ne sais si je dois encore vous en parler. M. De
Montigni m'a cependant dit que vous désiriez de savoir ma façon de
penser. Vous imaginez bien qu'elle ne peut pas être douteuse sur le fond
de l'affaire, et je crois qu'excepté Rousseau, et peut-être M{lle.} Le
Vasseur, il n'y a personne dans le monde qui s'imagine, ni qui eut
jamais imaginé, que vous ayez mené Rousseau en Angleterre pour le
trahir, et à qui sa longue lettre et ses démonstrations ne fassent
pitié. Mais je vous avoue que j'y vois toujours plus de folie que de
noirceur. J'y vois des sophismes dont une imagination se sert pour
empoisonner les circonstances les plus simples et les transformer au gré
de la manie qui l'occupe. Mais je ne crois point que ces extravagances
soient un jeu joué, et un prétexte pour secouer le poids de la
reconnoissance qu'il vous doit. Il paroît sentir lui même que personne
ne le croira, et qu'il se couvre d'opprobre du moins pour le moment aux
yeux du public. Il avoue qu'il sacrifie et son intérêt et même sa
réputation: et il est certain que cette affaire lui fait un tort
irréparable, l'isole du genre humain, et lui ôte tout appui contre les
persécutions auxquelles ses opinions et encore plus ces traits de sa
misanthropie l'exposeront toujours. Je persiste donc à ne le croire que
fou, et je suis affligé que l'impression trop vive qu'a faite sur vous
sa folie vous ait mis dans le cas de la faire éclater et de la rendre
irrémédiable; car le bruit qu'à fait votre lettre au Baron, est pour
Rousseau une démonstration que ces conjectures étoient fondées sur la
vérité même. Il a bien mandé à Madame de Boufflers qu'il ne se plaignoit
pas, et que cette lettre qui vous a donné lieu de le diffamer comme le
dernier des hommes n'étoit écrite qu'à vous. L'éclat que vous avez fait,
lui a fait tout le mal possible, et sa lettre ne vous en a fait aucun. .
. . . . . Après vous avoir dit aussi franchement mon avis, vous serez
surpris peut-être de me voir presque revenu à l'avis de faire imprimer.
La folie de Rousseau est telle qu'il a écrit ici différentes lettres
dans lesquelles il regarde votre trahison comme si constante, et les
démonstrations comme si terrassantes pour vous, qu'il vous défie de
publier les pièces sans vous déshonorer, à moins que vous ne les
falsifiez; ce ne sont pas ses termes mais c'en est le sens. Si cette
espèce de défi devenoit public à un certain point, et faisoit plus
d'impression en Angleterre qu'il n'en peut faire en France, peut-être
serez-vous obligé d'imprimer. Mais en ce cas je voudrois retrancher tout
réçit, toute imputation de mensonge, toutes notes excepté quelques unes
nécessaires pour rétablir simplement les faits importans, comme celui de
la scène qui s'est passée la veille de son départ pour Wooton. Encore
voudrois-je que dans ces notes vous disiez simplement le fait, sans
traiter Rousseau de menteur, sans vous abaisser à le prouver. Vous devez
être cru sur ce que vous direz, et vous le serez. Je ne mettrois autre
chose à la tête, si non que les discours répandus sur la querelle, &c.
et l'espèce de défi que M. Rousseau vous fait d'en publier ce qui s'est
passé, vous obligent à regret à publier les accusations de M. Rousseau
contre vous, et que vous croyez leur publication une réponse suffisante.
Voilà quel est actuellement mon penchant. Mais comme je ne vois à cela
rien de pressé, je crois que vous ferez bien de vous donner tout le tems
d'y réfléchir. Plus vous mettez dans cette affaire de modération et même
d'indifférence, plus le tort de Rousseau deviendra évident."--MS. R.S.E.
[354:1] The original of this letter is in the MSS. R.S.E. It is printed
in Priv. Cor. p. 187.
[354:2] MS. R.S.E.
[354:3] "Le hasard a voulu que la plus part de vos amis, et surtout ceux
à qui vous me conseillez de lire votre lettre, se soient trouvés
rassemblés chez M{lle.} de L'Espinasse presque au moment que je l'ai
reçue; Mr. Turgot, Mr. L'Abbé Morellet, Mr. Roux, Mr. Saurin, Mr.
Marmontel, Mr. Duclos. Tous unanimement, ainsi que M{lle.} de
L'Espinasse et moi sommes d'avis, que vous devez donner cette histoire
au public, avec toutes ses circumstances. Voici ce que nous vous
conseillons--je dis nous, car je parle ici au nom de tous. Vous
commencerez d'abord par dire que vous savez que Rousseau travaille à ses
mémoires, qu'il fera sans doute mention de sa querelle avec vous, qui a
fait trop de bruit pour qu'il ne cherche pas à la tourner à son
avantage, que les mémoires pourront paroître ou après votre mort ou
aprés la sienne: que dans le 1{er} cas, comme vous l'observez vous-même,
personne ne pourra vous justifier; que dans le second, votre défense
seroit sans force; que vous avez donc cru devoir donner vous même toute
cette histoire au public, afin que Mr. Rousseau réponde s'il le peut.
Ensuite vous entrerez dans le détail, et dans le plus grand détail, mais
surtout, et c'est une chose absolument essentielle et que nous vous
recommendons tous--vous vous bornerez aux faits, exprimés simplement et
nettement, sans aigreur, sans la moindre injure, sans même de réflexions
sur le caractère de Rousseau et sur ses écrits; vous rapporterez vos
lettres et les siennes; celle qu'il vous a écrite le 23 juin suffiroit
seule pour le faire condamner, vous ne direz point, du moins trop
souvent, que vous êtes son bienfaiteur--tout le monde le sait assez.
Enfin mon cher ami, nous vous recommendons, et nous vous conjurons de
mettre dans cette brochure la plus grande modération mais en même temps
la plus grande clarté."--MS. R.S.E.
[355:1] Walpole's "Narrative."
[357:1] "Vous devez être bien étonné, Monsieur, de n'avoir encore reçu
aucune lettre sur la publication de votre mémoire, et il y a en cela
beaucoup de ma faute. J'avois dit à M. D'Alembert que j'aurois l'honneur
de vous écrire. Il a compté sur moi. Le Baron D'Holbach a compté sur
nous deux, et moi j'ai compté aussi sur eux; voilà ce qui fait qu'il n'y
a rien que d'avoir plusieurs domestiques pour être mal servi."
Stating, that he has sent a copy of the collection by post, he proceeds:
"Vous avez désiré que je fusse votre traducteur, et je n'avois pas
besoin de tous les sentimens qui m'attachent à vous, pour me charger de
ce travail, avec plaisir. Votre cause me paroisoit celle des honnêtes
gens et surtout celle des amis de la philosophie. Il y a long-tems que
je regardois Rousseau comme un profond et dangereux charlatan, qui avoit
passé sa vie à recevoir des bienfaits de tout le monde, et à faire tout
le mal qu'il avoit pu à ceux qui lui avaient fait le plus de bien. . .
Vous trouverez sans doute, Monsieur, qu'on a pris bien des libertés avec
votre texte: il y a beaucoup de passages altérés, et suprimés: mais il
n'y a aucun changement qui n'ait été fait par M. D'Alembert ou de son
consentement, et toujours pour des raisons que vous aprouverez
vraisemblement."
[358:1] New Monthly Magazine, (original series,) No. 72.
[358:2] The letter is dated Ferney, 24th Oct. 1766. Oeuvres de Voltaire,
ed. 1789, lxiv. 495. Probably Hume never received this letter. It is not
in the MSS. R.S.E., and Voltaire was known to be in the habit of writing
to people through the press. Hume, however, states, in a note to the
narrative of his controversy, that he had had a letter from Voltaire
about three years before. There is no trace of it among his papers.
[360:1] MS. R.S.E.
[360:2] MS. R.S.E.
[360:3] Among those who were eager to peruse these documents, Hume says,
writing to Madame de Barbantane, "The King and Queen of England
expressed a strong desire to see these papers, and I was obliged to put
them into their hands. They read them with avidity, and entertain the
same sentiments that must strike every one. The king's opinion confirms
me in the resolution not to give them to the public, unless I be forced
to it by some attack on the side of my adversary, which it will
therefore be wisdom in him to avoid." _Private Correspondence_, p. 210.
[361:1] He says, in a subsequent letter,--"What are become of all the
controversies since the days of Scaliger and Scioppius, of Billingsgate
memory? Why, they sleep in oblivion, till some Bayle drags them out of
their dust, and takes mighty pains to ascertain the date of each
author's death, which is of no more consequence to the world than the
day of his birth. Many a country squire quarrels with his neighbour
about game and manors, yet they never print their wrangles, though as
much abuse passes between them, as if they could quote all the
Philippics of the learned." We have an instance of what he considered a
really important dispute, when he was baffled in his attempt to get his
nephew, Lord Orford, married to Miss Nicol, "the vast fortune." "Thus,"
he says, "had I placed him in a greater situation than even his
grandfather hoped to bequeath to him,--had retrieved all the oversights
of my family,--had saved Houghton, and all our glory." "I have been
forced," he says, writing to Horace Mann, "_to write a narrative_ of the
whole transaction; and was with difficulty kept from publishing
it."--_Letters_, ii. 401.
[362:1] He did not lose the opportunity afforded by the publication of
his pamphlet, for again expressing his contempt of men whose sole claim
to notice rested on the greatness of their genius: "For Monsieur
D'Alembert," he says, "I said that I was mighty indifferent about seeing
him. That it was not my custom to seek authors, who are a conceited
troublesome set of people." And hearing that Fréron, the same who was so
sharp a thorn in Voltaire's side, had made some remarks on him, which
displeased the Duchesse de Choiseul, he says, "I immediately wrote to
Paris, to beg the duchess would suffer Fréron and D'Alembert, or any of
the tribe, to write what they pleased, to get what money they could by
abusing me."
[365:1] This is repeated in a letter to Robertson, of 19th March, and is
followed by the statement, "The King, when applied to, said, that since
the pension had once been promised, it should be granted,
notwithstanding all that had passed in the interval. And thus the affair
is happily finished, unless some new extravagance come across the
philosopher, and urge him to reject what he has anew applied
for."--_Stewart's Life of Robertson._
[365:2] MS. R.S.E.
[366:1] The letter is in the usual editions of Rousseau's works, dated
30th April.
[366:2] The pamphlets produced in England on this subject, were not
nearly so numerous as those published in France. Fuseli, whose mind was
well suited for such a paradoxical championship, wrote "A defence of M.
Rousseau, against the Aspersions of Mr. Hume, Monsieur Voltaire, and
their associates." The other pamphlet alluded to in the letter, was,
perhaps, "A letter to the Honourable Horace Walpole, concerning the
dispute between Mr. Hume and M. Rousseau," by the Rev. Ralph Heathcote,
D.D. Hume says, in a letter to Madame de Boufflers, "Agreeably to the
licence of this country, there has been a great deal of raillery on the
incident, thrown out in the public papers, but all against that unhappy
man. There is even a print engraved of it: M. Rousseau is represented as
a Yahoo, newly caught in the woods; I am represented as a farmer, who
caresses him and offers him some oats to eat, which he refuses in a
rage; Voltaire and D'Alembert are whipping him up behind; and Horace
Walpole making him horns of _papier mâché_. The idea is not altogether
absurd."--_Private Correspondence_, p. 234.
[367:1] MS. R.S.E.
[370:1] Walpole, whose capacity for acquiring information on such
matters was unrivalled, seems to have at least made a near approach to
the discovery of this point. He says in his narration, "The chief cause
of his disgust has been a long quarrel between his housekeeper and Mr.
Davenport's cook-maid, who, as Rousseau affirmed, had always dressed
their dinner very ill, and at last had sprinkled ashes on their
victuals."
[371:1] MS. R.S.E.
[372:1] These incidents are also narrated in a letter to Madame de
Boufflers.--_Priv. Cor._ p. 241. And some of them in a French letter to
a person unknown, ib. p. 220.
[373:1] See the letter following that of 30th April to Mr. Davenport, in
the ordinary editions of Rousseau's works. The only material divergence
in the passage cited above is in the last clause, and the words
"quelques indiscrettes plaintes qui lui sont quelquefois echappées dans
le fort de ses peines," to which the corresponding clause in Rousseau's
Works, is "les plaintes indiscrettes, qui dans le fort de ses peines,
lui sont quelquefois échappées." These discrepancies were probably
between Rousseau's preserved copy, and the letter sent. That this letter
was printed from a copy preserved by Rousseau, is shown by the editors
of his Works not knowing to whom it was addressed. Hume repeats his own
version of the passage in a French letter already referred to. See
_Private Correspondence_, p. 222.
[374:1] MS. R.S.E.
[378:1] _Literary Gazette_, 1822, p. 649. Corrected from original MS.
R.S.E.
[379:1] He assumed the name of Renou.
[380:1] MS. R.S.E.
[381:1] On 1st June, 1767, Turgot writes, in answer to a letter from
Hume: "Je me hâte d'y répondre par ce courier, quoique je n'aie encore
fait aucune démarche pour le malheureux homme auquel, il est si digne de
vous de prendre encore intérêt. Le degré de folie qu'il montre
aujourdhui est en vérité préférable à une folie moins exaltée, qui le
laissoit chargé de tout l'odieux d'un excès d'ingratitude envers vous et
M. Davenport. Une pareille ingratitude réfléchie et méditée ne peut me
paroître dans la nature. . . . Je vous remercie de m'avoir choisi parmi
vos amis de ce pays-ci pour m'associer à la bonne action que vous voulez
faire en lui rendant service. J'y mettrai certainement tout le zèle dont
je suis capable et à cause de son infortune, et à cause de l'intérêt que
vous y prenez." He continues to say, that to get him a safe passage may
be easy: to find him a permanent asylum in France, would be a more
difficult matter. "La chose est possible hors du ressort du Parlement de
Paris, mais il faut que le Roi y consente. Il n'y a que l'intérêt même
que vous prenez, et la singularité de cette circonstance qui puisse
peut-être adoucir le Roi sur le compte de Rousseau en faisant demander
la chose en votre nom par M. de Choiseul."
CHAPTER XVI.
1766-1770. Æt. 55-59.
Hume Under Secretary of State--Church Politics--Official
abilities--Conduct as to Ferguson's book--Quarrel with
Oswald--Baron Mure's sons--Project of continuing the History--
Ministerial convulsions--Hume's conduct to his Family--His
Brother--His Nephews--Baron Hume--Blacklock--Smollett--Church
Patronage--Gibbon--Robertson--Elliot--Gilbert Stuart--The
Douglas Cause--Andrew Stewart--Morellet--Return to Scotland.
The quarrel with Rousseau seems to have so fully occupied the attention
of Hume, during its continuance, that he scarcely alluded to any other
subject in his correspondence; and thus, though the preceding chapter is
devoted entirely to that event, a very slight retrospect from the point
of time reached at its conclusion, will suffice for whatever else,
worthy of notice in his life or correspondence, has been preserved.
In the summer of 1766, he made a short visit to Scotland. "I returned,"
he says, in his "own life," "to that place, not richer, but with much
more money, and a much larger income, by means of Lord Hertford's
friendship, than I left it; and I was desirous of trying what
superfluity could produce, as I had formerly made an experiment of a
competency. But, in 1767, I received, from Mr. Conway, an invitation to
be under-secretary; and this invitation, both the character of the
person, and my connexions with Lord Hertford, prevented me from
declining."
He was thus solicited to undertake the very responsible duties of this
office, by one who had good opportunities of knowing his capacity for
public business; and the simple fact of the appointment is a testimony
to the ability with which he had performed the analogous functions of
his office in France. He was indeed at all times a man of punctual
habits, and his unwearied industry had not yet begun to slacken. He had
a mind of that clear systematic order which was well fitted for the
composition of official documents; and his triumphs in philosophical and
historical literature never inflated him with the ambition of
considering any business which he consented to undertake too
insignificant to deserve his full attention. Some official documents,
connected with the successive offices which he held, have been
preserved, by collectors, as autographs of so celebrated a man: and they
generally arrest the attention of every one who examines them, by the
clearness and precision of the language, and not a little by the
neatness of the handwriting.
After the resignation of the Marquis of Tweeddale, in 1746, there was no
longer a principal secretary of state for Scotland; and it became usual
to consult the Lord Advocate, or any other ministerial officer, locally
connected with the north, as to the policy to be pursued in Scottish
affairs. None of the principal members of the Grafton ministry were
Scotsmen; and there can be little doubt that Hume must then have
exercised a large influence in all affairs connected with his native
country.[383:1] He held his office until the 20th of July 1768, when
General Conway was superseded by Lord Weymouth.
The following letter contains a brief sketch of the general current of
his official life.
HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.
"_1st April, 1767._
"My way of life here is very uniform, and by no means disagreeable. I
pass all the forenoon in the secretary's house, from ten till three,
where there arrive, from time to time, messengers, that bring me all
the secrets of the kingdom, and, indeed, of Europe, Asia, Africa, and
America. I am seldom hurried; but have leisure, at intervals, to take up
a book, or write a private letter, or converse with any friend that may
call for me; and from dinner to bed-time is all my own. If you add to
this, that the person with whom I have the chief, if not only
transactions, is the most reasonable, equal tempered, and gentleman-like
man imaginable, and Lady Aylesbury the same, you will certainly think I
have no reason to complain; and I am far from complaining. I only shall
not regret when my duty is over; because, to me, the situation can lead
to nothing, at least in all probability; and reading, and sauntering,
and lounging, and dosing, which I call thinking, is my supreme
happiness. I mean my full contentment.
"I thank you for the acquaintance you offer me of Mr. Percy; but it
would be impracticable for me to cultivate his friendship, as men of
letters have here no place of rendezvous; and are, indeed, sunk and
forgot in the general torrent of the world. If you can therefore
decline, without hardship, any letter of recommendation, it would save
trouble both to him and me."[385:1]
In the beginning of the year 1767, Ferguson published his "Essay on the
History of Civil Society," a work which speedily acquired a wide
reputation through Europe. The allusions which Hume has been found
making to some work of a similar character, so early as 1759,[385:2]
probably refer to a particular portion of this book. Immediately before
its publication, he recommended Ferguson's friends to prevail on him to
suppress the work, as likely to be injurious to its author's literary
reputation: one of the few instances, if it be not the only one, in
which he discouraged a fellow-countryman, desirous of casting his lot
into the competition for literary distinction. He ultimately found that
his advice was erroneous, as the book soon obtained a high character.
But, had his own opinion of its merits coincided with the suffrages of
the public, it would not have been so honourable to his memory, as the
satisfaction he expressed on the discovery that the verdict of the
reading world was against him. Writing to Blair on 24th February, 1767,
he says:--
"I happened yesterday to visit a person three hours after a copy of
Ferguson's performance was opened, for the first time, in London. It was
by Lord Mansfield. I accept this omen of its future success. He was
extremely pleased with it; said it was very agreeable, and perfectly
well wrote; assured me that he would not stop a moment till he had
finished it; and recommended it strongly to the perusal of the
Archbishop of York, who was present. I have wrote the same article of
intelligence to Ferguson himself; but as he is the likeliest person in
the world to suppress it, I thought it safest to put it into your hands,
in order to circulate it."[386:1]
Again:--
"I hear good things said of Ferguson's book every day. Lord Holderness
showed me a letter from the Archbishop of York, where his Grace says,
that in many things it surpasses Montesquieu. My friend, Mr. Dodwell,
says that it is an admirable book, elegantly wrote, and with great
purity of language. Pray, tell to Ferguson and to others all these
things."[386:2]
Again, writing to the same correspondent, on 1st April, he says:--
"The success of the book, dear Doctor, which you mention, gives me great
satisfaction, on account of my sincere friendship for the author; and so
much the rather, as the success was to me unexpected. I have since begun
to hope, and even to believe, that I was mistaken; and in this
persuasion have several times taken it up and read chapters of it. But,
to my great mortification and sorrow, I have not been able to change my
sentiments. We shall see, by the duration of its fame, whether or not I
am mistaken. Helvétius and Saurin both told me at Paris, that they had
been consulted by Montesquieu about his 'Esprit des Loix.' They used the
freedom to tell him, as their fixed opinion, that he ought to suppress
the book; which they foresaw would very much injure his reputation. They
said to me that, no doubt, I thought they had reason to be ashamed of
their judgment. But still, added they, you may observe that the public
are very much returned from their first admiration of that book; and we
are persuaded that they will daily return still more.
"I hope that I shall be found a false prophet as much as these
gentlemen; for though the 'Esprit des Loix,' be considerably sunk in
vogue, and will probably still sink farther, it maintains a high
reputation, and probably will never be totally neglected. It has
considerable merit, notwithstanding the glare of its pointed wit, and
notwithstanding its false refinements, and its rash and crude positions.
Helvétius and Saurin assured me, that this freedom of theirs never lost
them any thing of Montesquieu's friendship. I believe the like would be
my case; but it is better not to put it to a trial. On that account, as
well as others, I recommend to you secrecy, towards every person except
Robertson."[388:1]
A letter from Adam Smith, desiring that his friend, Count Sarsfield,
might be introduced to Hume's circle of acquaintance, called forth the
following narrative of a very amusing incident:--
HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.
"_London, 13th June, 1767._
"DEAR SMITH,--The Count de Sarsfield is a good acquaintance of mine,
from the time I saw him at Paris; and as he is really a man of merit, I
have great pleasure whenever I meet him here. My occupations keep me
from cultivating his friendship as much as I should incline. I did not
introduce him to Elliot, because I knew that this gentleman's reserve
and indolence would make him neglect the acquaintance; and I did not
introduce him to Oswald, because I fear that he and I are broke for
ever; at least he does not seem inclined to take any steps towards an
accommodation with me.
"I am to tell you the strangest story you ever heard of. I was dining
with him, above two months ago, where, among other company, was the
Bishop of Raphoe.[388:2] After dinner we were disposed to be merry. I
said to the company, that I had been very ill used by Lord Hertford; for
that I always expected to be made a bishop by him during his
lieutenancy! but he had given away two sees from me, to my great
vexation and disappointment. The right reverend, without any farther
provocation, burst out into the most furious, and indecent, and
orthodox rage that ever was seen: told me that I was most impertinent;
that if he did not wear a gown, I durst not, no, I durst not, have used
him so; that none but a coward would treat a clergyman in that manner;
that henceforth he must either abstain from his brother's house, or I
must; and that this was not the first time he had heard the stupid joke
from my mouth. With the utmost tranquillity and temper I asked his
pardon; assured him, upon my honour, that I did not mean him the least
offence: if I had imagined he could possibly have been displeased, I
never should have mentioned the subject; but the joke was not in the
least against him, but entirely against myself, as if I were capable of
such an expectation as that of being a bishop! my regard for himself,
and still more for his brother, with whom I had long been more
particularly connected, would certainly restrain me from either joke or
earnest, which could be offensive to him; and that, if I had ever
touched on the same topic before, I had entirely forgot it, and it must
have been above a twelvemonth ago. He was nowise appeased; raved on in
the same style for a long time. At last I got the discourse diverted,
and took my leave, seemingly with great indifference and even good
humour. I was nowise surprised nor concerned about his lordship; because
I had, on other occasions, observed the same orthodox zeal swell within
him, and it was often difficult for him to converse with temper when I
was in the company.
"But what really surprised and vexed me was, that his brother kept
silence all the time. I met him in the passage when I went away, and he
made me no apology. He has never since called on me; and though he sees
that I never come near his house, though formerly I used to be three or
four times a-week with him, he never takes the least notice of it. I own
this gives me vexation, because I have a sincere value and affection for
him. It is only some satisfaction to me to find, that I am so palpably
in the right as not to leave the least room for doubt or ambiguity. Dr.
Pitcairne, who was in the company, says that he never saw such a scene
in his lifetime. If I were sure, dear Smith, that you and I should not
some day quarrel in some such manner, I should tell you that I am, yours
very affectionately and sincerely."[390:1]
The world levies certain penalties on the enjoyment of a character for
good nature and kindness, and Hume seems to have paid them to their most
ample extent, in the shape of executing commissions, and performing
general petty services for his friends. We have witnessed the zeal with
which he attended to the education of Mr. Elliot's two sons. A teacher
of languages, possessing the distinguished name of Graffigny, and
professing to be in the confidence of celebrated literary people in
Paris, appears to have excited the suspicion of Baron Mure, whose sons
he was employed to instruct. Hume undertook to make some inquiries
regarding him; and his brief reports, from time to time, have some
interest from their containing a few of his opinions on education.
HUME _to_ BARON MURE.
"_London, 1st July, 1767._
"DEAR BARON,--I believe I told you, that D'Alembert disclaimed all sort
of acquaintance with him. I have this moment received a letter from
Helvétius, doing the same. It was in answer to one I wrote him at Lord
Hertford's desire. I know not from what quarter we had heard that he had
given to Lord Harcourt, or Lord Newnam, a good character of Graffigny:
but it must have been a mistake; for to me he says, that he knows no
such man; that his wife, who was niece to the famous Ma{me} de
Graffigny, and educated with her, never saw or heard of such a man: nor
can they imagine who he may be. After this second imposture, it is
certain that Lord Hertford will not put his sons to him; nor do I think
it fit yours should longer remain. He is an empty, conceited fellow,
full of chimeras and pretensions; and I think you are at no great loss
for parting with him. The question [is,] what to do next?"
(_Undated._)
"DEAR BARON,--He is indeed a conceited man, full of whimseys and
affectations, reasoning always in the clouds about the most obvious
things, and hunting after novelties and singularities of which his
genius is incapable. What, for instance, can be more whimsical than his
method of teaching Latin? He gives his boys a long list of words, which
they are to get by heart, like the muster-roll of a regiment, and a
great heap of grammar rules, which are to them unintelligible. After he
has laid this foundation of a language, as he imagines, he begins them
with the most difficult of all the Latin poets; and for this plan of
education, he will give you a galimatias of reasons, clothed in the
smoothest language, and delivered with the softest accent."
(_Undated._)
"DEAR BARON,--In my conversation with your young folks yesterday, I
endeavoured to inform myself concerning their progress in Latin. I find
that they are not taught any Latin grammar; they are only instructed in
the sense of single detached words, which they learn, both in Greek and
Latin, at once. Accordingly they told me water, aqua, and υδωρ; but
though I tried them in about half a dozen more words, I could not find
their learning extended so far. All this appears to me very whimsical;
and I doubt a dead language can never be learned in this manner without
grammar. In a living language, the continual application of the words
and phrases teaches at the same time the sense of the words, and their
reference to each other; but a list of words got by heart, without any
connected sense, easily escapes the memory, and is but a small part of
the language."[392:1]
There are several indications that Hume still retained the half-formed
intention of continuing his History through a portion of the period
succeeding the Revolution. In a brief undated letter, written to Smith
in Paris, he says:--
"Some push me to continue my History. Millar offers me any price. All
the Marlborough papers are offered me: and I believe nobody would
venture to refuse me. But _cui bono_? Why should I forego idleness, and
sauntering, and society, and expose myself again to the clamours of a
stupid factious public? I am not yet tired of doing nothing; and am
become too wise either to mind censure or applause. By and bye I shall
be too old to undergo so much labour. Adieu."[392:2]
Smith's opinion is thus reported by Andrew Millar, on 22d November,
1766.
"He is of opinion, with many more of your very good sensible friends,
that the History of this country, from the Revolution, is not to be met
with in books yet printed; but from MSS. in this country, to which he is
sure you will have ready access, from all accounts he hears from the
great here; and therefore you should lay the ground-work here, after
your perusal of the MSS. you may have access to, and doing it below will
be laying the wrong foundation. I think it my duty to inform you the
opinion of your most judicious friends, and I think he and Sir John
Pringle may be reckoned amongst that number."[393:1]
Millar, indeed, seems to have scarcely ever relaxed from urging this
project; and perhaps it was his perseverance, and not any
self-originating desire to pursue the task, that kept the design alive
in Hume's mind. He had written to his worthy publisher on 8th October,
1766:--
"I shall probably do as you advise, and sketch out the outlines of the
two or three subsequent reigns, which I may finish at London, after I
find that there remains no farther obstacles to this work, and that it
is favoured, I do not say by every body, (for that is impossible,) but
by the generality of the world."
At a later date he thus expressed his views:--
HUME _to_ ANDREW MILLAR.
"_London, 17th July, 1767._
"DEAR SIR,--We are still in as unsettled a condition as when you left
us. There will certainly be a considerable alteration in the ministry;
and I do not at present reckon my principal's situation more precarious
than that of any other minister. He speaks, however, like a man who is
to be out of office in a few days. I have also taken the precaution to
desire him to request of the king, in my name, the liberty, after my
dismission, of inspecting all the public records, and all the papers in
the Paper-office. His majesty was pleased to say, that he very willingly
complied with my request, and was glad to hear of my intentions. But my
chief view is to run over such papers as belong to the period which I
have already wrote, in order to render that part of my History as little
imperfect as possible. It would be folly to think of writing any more;
and even as to correcting, were it not an amusement, to what purpose
would it serve, since I shall certainly never live to see a new
edition?"[394:1]
On the same subject, and in the same tone, he writes to his brother, on
6th October:--
"As to myself, I pass my time, as I told you, in an agreeable enough
kind of business, and not too much of it. My income, also, is at present
very considerable--above £1100 a-year, of which I shall not spend much
above the half. Notwithstanding, I sometimes wish to be out of
employment, in order to prosecute my History, to which every body urges
me. When Mr. Conway was on the point of resigning, I desired him to
propose to the king that I might afterwards have the liberty of
inspecting all the public offices for such papers as might serve to my
purpose. His majesty said, that he was glad that I had that object in my
eye; and I should certainly have all the assistance in his power. He was
also pleased, some time after, to send to me the Baron Behr, minister
for Hanover, to tell me that he had ordered over some papers from
Hanover, to be put into my hands, because he believed they would be of
use to me. I believe I have told you that the use of the Marlborough
papers had been promised me by Lord and Lady Spencer; but Marchmont, who
had some pretence of authority over them, as trustee, delayed giving
them up, suspecting, I suppose, the use they intended to make of
them."[395:1]
Though it was as part of Lord Rockingham's administration that Conway
became secretary of state, and his political connexions attached him to
that leader, he had been prevailed on to retain office on the formation
of the Grafton and Chatham cabinet, in August 1766. In the summer of
1767, that ministry seemed likely to be formidably assailed by the
united efforts of the Rockingham and Bedford parties, whose meetings and
resolutions at Newcastle House are matters well known in history.
General Conway's resignation would have terminated Hume's tenure of
office; and we find, in his correspondence, a few indications of
interest in the political movements of the time; yet so calm and
modified, that even the possession of office seems scarcely to have
affected the stoic philosophy with which he contemplated ministerial
revolutions.
He says to his friend Blair, on the 18th of June:--
"We are all again in confusion. Negotiations for a new ministry; the
fatal month of July approaching; a new settlement to be made, which will
be no settlement. I fancy I return, in a few weeks, to my former
situation."[395:2]
And to Smith, on 14th July:--
"DEAR SMITH,--I send you the enclosed, with a large packet for Count
Sarsfield. This is the last ministerial act which I shall probably
perform; and with this exertion I finish my functions. I shall not
leave this country presently. Perhaps I may go over to France. Our
resignation is a very extraordinary incident, and will probably occasion
a total change of ministry. Are you busy?"[396:1]
His official life, however, was not so near a conclusion as he thought
it was. The following letter is more full and explicit, in regard to
these matters:--
_London, 28th July, 1767._
"DEAR BROTHER,--Were my present situation any object of anxiety, I
should have been very unhappy of late: so uncertain has my continuance
appeared every moment, and so near did my ministerial functions seem to
draw towards their conclusion. But as the matter was very nearly
indifferent to me, I neither felt anxiety for my past danger, nor do I
experience any joy from my present establishment; for we are now
established, for some time at least, and all apprehensions of a change
are removed to a distance. The history of our late transactions is, in
short, as follows: About this time twelvemonth, when the last revolution
of ministry took place, Mr. Conway staid in, though Lord Rockingham, and
most of his friends, were turned out: But it was with reluctance, and
only on the earnest entreaties of the king and Lord Chatham, and on
their giving him a promise that several of his friends and party should
still continue to hold their places. This engagement was broke last
winter. Some of these gentlemen were turned out; and Mr. Conway, after
protesting against this usage, declared, that though he would keep his
office during the session, not to disturb the king's business, he would
resign as soon as the parliament should rise. He accordingly desired the
king, about six weeks ago, to provide him a successor, and was
entreated only to keep the seals till a proper person should be thought
of. When the matter came to be discussed, it was found very difficult.
The Duke of Grafton declared, that being deprived of Lord Chatham's
support, he could not continue to serve without Mr. Conway: and a total
dissolution of the ministry seemed to be the effect of the incident.
Negotiations were accordingly set on foot with the leaders of the
opposition, and a great meeting of them was held last week, at Bedford
House. It was found that they could not, by any means, agree in their
demands; and they separated in mutual discontent. Every body thinks that
Mr. Conway has now satisfied, to the full, the point of honour, in which
he is very scrupulous, and that he will cordially resume his functions,
especially as he stands so well with the king and his fellow ministers,
and has brought it within the choice of his old friends to accept of the
ministry, if they had thought proper. I was beginning to wish for our
dissolution; but upon this turn of affairs, I resume my occupations with
cheerfulness."[397:1]
The remainder of this letter is devoted to a matter in which we have
already frequently found him taking interest--the education of his
nephews. From his earliest to his latest days, his connexion with his
elder brother was cordial and affectionate. On the 6th of October we
find him writing, in a tone which indicates a sympathy with some
domestic calamity which his brother must have suffered:--
"The time of your going to Edinburgh approaches, which makes a great
change in your way of life, and will naturally make yourself, as well as
all your friends, anxious about the issue of it. However, I cannot but
think that you will there live more cheerfully, with all your children
about you, than in the country, during the winter, when your boys were
absent. At first only, as your spirits are not very strong at present,
you may feel uneasy at the alteration, as you are at present somewhat
apprehensive about it."[398:1]
There was apparently but one point in which the two brothers differed;
and it was a subject on which Hume seems to have been at war with all
his clan. The Laird of Ninewells, notwithstanding all the lustre that
had now gathered round the name of _Hume_, would not adopt it in place
of that of _Home_, which his father had borne. He was a simple,
single-hearted man, moderate in all his views and wishes, and neither
ambitious of distinction nor of wealth. He passed his life as a retired
country gentleman; and while Europe was full of his brother's name, he
was so averse to notoriety, that he is known to have objected to the
domestic events of births, marriages, and deaths, in his family,
obtaining the usual publicity through the newspapers.[398:2] His eldest
son, Joseph, frequently mentioned in the following correspondence,
succeeded him in his estate and retired habits, but not entirely in his
disposition; for he indulged in many of the eccentricities and
peculiarities so often exhibited by the Scottish gentry,--a
characteristic they seem to derive from the circumstance, that, in the
British empire, there is no person less liable to encounter an equal,
and to be thwarted in his small exercise of absolute power, than a
Scottish laird. It is evident from his uncle's letters, that Joseph
obtained an excellent education. He was for some time placed under the
charge of poor Blacklock,--an arrangement by which Hume sought to
perform a double act of beneficence.[399:1] Joseph died unmarried, on
14th February, 1832, and was succeeded by his brother David, whose
career was more public and distinguished. He was born on 27th February,
1757,[401:1] and died on 27th July, 1838. He was successively sheriff of
the counties of Berwick and Linlithgow. He was professor of Scots law in
the university of Edinburgh, and a principal clerk of Session. He
subsequently resigned these offices, on his being appointed a Baron of
the Scottish Exchequer. His works are of great authority in the
practical departments of the law. While he taught in the university, his
students zealously collected notes of his lectures; and, as he refused
to permit any version of them to be published, the well preserved
collections of these notes have been considered valuable treasuries of
legal wisdom. In 1790, he published "Commentaries on the law of
Scotland, respecting trials for crimes;" and, in 1797, "Commentaries on
the law of Scotland respecting the description and punishment of
crimes," forming, in four quarto volumes, a comprehensive treatise on
all the departments of the criminal law of Scotland, which has now
passed through three editions. It has been justly remarked, that lawyers
of the present generation, can, with difficulty, appreciate the merit
of this work, because, from its having converted the whole subject it
embraces into a system, the chaotic mass, from which the present
comparatively orderly criminal code of Scotland was constructed, has
disappeared.[402:1]