CHAPTER XIV.

1765-1766. Æt. 54-55.

Hume's Sentiments as to the Popularity of his works—A letter to the Scottish Clergy—Correspondence with Elliot continued—Sir Robert Liston—Mallet—Hume appointed Secretary of Legation—Chargé d'Affaires at Paris—Proposal to appoint him Secretary for Ireland—Reasons of the Failure of the Project—Lord Hertford—Resumption of Communication with Rousseau—Rousseau in Paris—Notices of his History and Character—Hume's solicitude for his welfare—Return to Britain—Disposal of Rousseau—Death of Jardine.

Allusion has occasionally been made to the difficulty of satisfying Hume with any amount of literary success. His correspondence with Millar is a long grumble about the prejudices he has had to encounter, and their influence on the circulation of his works; while the bookseller, by the most glowing pictures of their popularity, is only able to elicit a partial gleam of content. The success of the History made worthy Mr. Millar very anxious that it should be continued, and Hume for a time acquiesced in the proposal. There is a letter from Millar on the 26th October, enlarging on the great and rapid sales: about 2500 complete sets of the quarto edition, and upwards of 3000 of the "History of the Stuarts," had been sold, along with near 2000 of the 8vo. edition. In continuation he says:

The Essays, 8vo, were only published in May; what has been sold of them, of all the different editions, I cannot recollect. I was asked that question at St. James's the other day, when I said, I considered your works as classics, that I never numbered the editions, as I did in books we wished to puff. This I said before many clergy. I am not a little surprised to see one of your excellent understanding and merit so anxious about the sale, when the booksellers entirely concerned never complained, but on the contrary would be ready to give you to your utmost wish any encouragement to proceed in your History; and in truth, considering the number of enemies, some particular Essays have risen from interest, bigotry, folly, and knavery, not less than a one hundred thousand, it is rather astonishing your works have sold so much. While men are men this is to be expected, and you are the last man I should ever thought could paid the least attention to such things.[264:1]

On this Hume says:

Hume to Andrew Millar.

"Paris, 14th January, 1765.

"Dear Sir,—I am much obliged to you for your last letter, which is very friendly, and I shall not fail to pay the proper attention to it. The truth is, as I intend to continue my History, I could not possibly have taken a more proper step than to pay a visit to this country, and to make acquaintance here; for as France and England are so intermixed in all transactions since the Revolution, the history of one country must throw light upon the other; and I am now in a situation to have access to all the families which have papers relative to public affairs transacted in the end of the last and beginning of this century. The reason why I was anxious to know the sale of my History, was, that I might judge whether I could expect equal access and information in England. The rage and prejudice of parties frighten me; and above all, this rage against the Scots, which is so dishonourable, and indeed so infamous to the English nation. We hear that it increases every day without the least appearance of provocation on our part. It has frequently made me resolve never in my life to set foot on English ground. I dread, if I should undertake a more modern history, the impertinence and ill manners to which it would expose me; and I was willing to know from you whether former prejudices had so far subsided as to ensure me of a good reception."[265:1]

The following very characteristic paper, which appears to have been enclosed to Dr. Blair, needs no introduction.

"Dear Doctor,—I am in debt to all my friends in letters, and shall ever be so. But what strikes me chiefly with remorse, are my great and enormous debts to the clergy. By this my neglect of my Protestant pastors, you will begin to suspect that I am turning Papist. But to acquit myself at once, allow me to write you a common letter, and to address a few words to every one of you.

Dr. Robertson.

"Your History has been very very well translated here, better than mine, as I am told. Its success has given me occasion to promise your acquaintance to several persons of distinction; the Duc de Nivernois, the Marquis de Puysieuls, President Hénault, Baron D'Holbach, &c. I wish you could speak French tolerably; you would find this place agreeable. The Marechal Broglio spoke of you to me with esteem the other day.

Dr. Carlyle.

"I consulted with the Chevalier Macdonald, (who, by the bye, is here in great vogue, not for his gallantries, like some others who shall be nameless, but for his parts and knowledge;) I say I consulted with the Chevalier about writing a common letter to Eglinton in favour of Wilson. He told me it would be quite useless. Eglinton would give that kirk and every thing else to the tenth cousin of the tenth cousin of a voter in the shire of Ayr, rather than to the most intimate friend he has in the world. Je baise les mains de Madame Carlyle avec tout l'empressement possible.

Dr. Ferguson.

"Who, by the bye, I believe is not a doctor, though highly worthy from his piety and learning to be one; then Mr. Ferguson, I think I have nothing in particular to say to you, except that I am glad of the change of your class, because you desired it, and because it fitted Russell. For otherwise I should have liked better the other science. The news of your great success in teaching has reached me in Paris, and has given me pleasure; but I fear for your health from all these sudden and violent applications. Ah, that you could learn something, dear Ferguson, of the courteous, and caressing, and open manners of this country. I should not then have been to learn for the first time, (as I did lately from General Clark,) that you have not been altogether ungrateful to me, and that you bear me some good will, and that you sometimes regret my absence. Why should your method of living with me have borne so little the appearance of those sentiments?

Dr. Blair.

"Many people who read English have got your dissertation on Fingal, which they admire extremely: a very good critic told me lately that it was incomparably the best piece of criticism in the English language; a self-evident truth to me. I met also with many admirers of Fingal; but many also doubt of its authenticity. The Chevalier Macdonald is of use to me in supporting the argument, from his personal knowledge of facts. I cannot, however, but allow that the whole is strange, passing strange.

"You seem to wish that I should give you some general accounts of this country. Shall I begin with the points in which it most differs from England, viz., the general regard paid to genius and learning; the universal and professed, though decent, gallantry to the fair sex; or the almost universal contempt of all religion among both sexes, and among all ranks of men? Or shall I mention the points in which the French begin to concur with the English,—their love of liberty, for instance? Or shall I give you some remarkable anecdotes of the great men who, at present, adorn French literature? Perhaps you would wish me to run over all these topics successively. Alas! there is not one that would not fill several sheets of paper with curious circumstances, and I am the most lazy writer of letters in the world: however, I must say something on these heads; and, first, of the first:—

"There is a very remarkable difference between London and Paris; of which I gave warning to Helvétius, when he went over lately to England, and of which he told me, on his return, he was fully sensible. If a man have the misfortune, in the former place, to attach himself to letters, even if he succeeds, I know not with whom he is to live, nor how he is to pass his time in a suitable society. The little company there that is worth conversing with, are cold and unsociable; or are warmed only by faction and cabal; so that a man who plays no part in public affairs becomes altogether insignificant; and, if he is not rich, he becomes even contemptible. Hence that nation are relapsing fast into the deepest stupidity and ignorance. But, in Paris, a man that distinguishes himself in letters, meets immediately with regard and attention. I found, immediately on my landing here, the effects of this disposition. Lord Beauchamp told me that I must go instantly with him to the Duchess de la Valieres.[268:1] When I excused myself, on account of dress, he told me that he had her orders, though I were in boots. I accordingly went with him in a travelling frock, where I saw a very fine lady reclining on a sofa, who made me speeches and compliments without bounds. The style of panegyric was then taken up by a fat gentleman, whom I cast my eyes upon, and observed him to wear a star of the richest diamonds;—it was the Duke of Orleans. The Duchess told me she was engaged to sup in President Hénault's, but that she would not part with me;—I must go along with her. The good president received me with open arms; and told me, among other fine things, that, a few days before, the Dauphin said to him, &c. &c. &c. Such instances of attention I found very frequent, and even daily. You ask me, if they were not very agreeable? I answer—no; neither in expectation, possession, nor recollection. I left that fireside, where you probably sit at present, with the greatest reluctance. After I came to London, my uneasiness, as I heard more of the prepossessions of the French nation in my favour, increased; and nothing would have given me greater joy than any accident that would have broke off my engagements. When I came to Paris, I repented heartily of having entered, at my years, on such a scene; and, as I found that Lord Hertford had entertained a good opinion and good will for Andrew Stuart, I spoke to Wedderburn, in order to contrive expedients for substituting him in my place. Lord Hertford thought, for some time, that I would lose all patience and would run away from him. But the faculty of speaking French returned gradually to me. I formed many acquaintance and some friendships. All the learned seemed to conspire in showing me instances of regard. The great ladies were not wanting to a man so highly in fashion: and, having now contracted the circle of my acquaintance, I live tolerably at my ease. I have even thoughts of settling at Paris for the rest of my life; but I am sometimes frightened with the idea that it is not a scene suited to the languor of old age. I then think of retiring to a provincial town, or returning to Edinburgh, or —— but it is not worth while to form projects about the matter. D'Alembert and I talk very seriously of taking a journey to Italy together; and, if Lord Hertford leave France soon, this journey may probably have place.

"I began this letter about two months ago; but so monstrously indolent am I that I have not had time to finish it. I believe I had better send it off as it is. Tell Robertson that La Chapelle, his translator, is very much out of humour, and with reason, for never hearing from him. I suppose some letter has miscarried. I am, &c.[270:1]

"Paris, 6th April, 1765."

Mr. Elliot had expressed to Hume a fear lest the longer residence of his sons in France might "render them too much Frenchmen," while, speaking of their tutor, Mr. Liston,[270:2] he says, "I own I am more apprehensive of the consequences of a Paris life upon a young man of his age than upon the boys, who are too young to enter into the full dissipation of a country, where, not to be dissipated, is hardly to have any existence." On this Hume writes:

Hume to Gilbert Elliot of Minto.

"Paris, 14th April, 1765.

"My Dear Sir,—I have always had the pleasure of conversing, from time to time, with your sons, with Mr. Liston, and with the Abbé Choquart, and never found the least reason to alter the good opinion, which I had at first conceived of that academy, and of the conduct of every one concerned: but the tenor of your last letter made me apprehend, that you had discovered some ground of suspicion; and the more so as Mr. Larpent told me, that you had spoke to his father, to desire him to request of his son, that he should keep a watchful eye over the conduct of your sons, and of Mr. Liston, and inform him of all particulars. This it is impossible for Larpent to do, and, indeed, impossible for me to do, otherwise than by conversing with the Abbé Choquart and with your sons apart. I have done this very carefully, and find Mr. Liston's conduct not only irreproachable, but laudable. The Abbé tells me, that for the first three or four months, he scarce ever stirred out of the house, but conversed with him alone, and with the other masters, till he came to such perfection in the language, as to be taken for a Languedocian, or a Frenchman of some province. Since that time the Abbé tells me, he has made a few acquaintances among his countrymen, and goes out sometimes; but he uses this liberty with great moderation; and on the whole, the Abbé praises him (and with great reason as appears to me) for his reserve, his modesty, his good sense, his sobriety, and his virtue. As to your sons, he assures me, that though he has been employed nineteen years in instructing youth, he never knew any more happily formed, and they are the favourites of the whole school. The boys themselves seem to be extremely happy in their present situation. Gilbert speaks French almost like a Parisian, and Hugh follows fast after him. This is an advantage they have acquired, without interrupting the course of their other studies. The sociableness of their disposition has been called forth, by living among companions in a public school; and as they praise very much the civility and good humour of their fellow students, they may themselves be the more confirmed in their habits. But, pray, come hither yourself and judge of the matter.

"Two or three days ago, Lord Hertford wrote a very earnest letter to Mr. Grenville in my favour. I know well that, if you find an opportunity, you will second his application. The Saxon minister at the court, told my lord, that Mr. Wroughton was soon to leave Dresden. My lord has proposed that Bunbury be sent thither: if he refuses, it will be a proof that he is resolved to undertake no public service, but scandalously to live at home, and enjoy a large salary, which should belong to another. Surely if Mr. Grenville bore me never so little good-will, as a supposed Tory, he must allow this reasoning to be unanswerable.

"You have now with you Sir James Macdonald, who is too good for you, for I am afraid you will not know to value him. He leaves an universal regret behind him at Paris, among all who were acquainted with him, and in none more than myself. I am, dear sir, your faithful humble servant."[272:1]

In the following letter to Millar, we find Mallet and the Life of Marlborough, that had been promised and paid for, again the subject of speculation. Hume, though he had at one time been induced to believe that part of the work was written, seems to have on the whole indulged himself in scepticism, which, in this case at least, was well founded. The letter is dated 4th May.

"My Dear Sir,—As soon as I heard of poor Mallet's death,[273:1] my curiosity was excited to know, whether he had really proceeded any length in his work, or whether, as many people imagine, and as is somewhat my opinion, he had never wrote a line nor taken a note with regard to it. I beg you would make some inquiry upon that subject. The widow will be able to inform you. I should be glad to know whether any lights could be got from that quarter for the continuance of my work."[273:2]

Hume to Gilbert Elliot of Minto.

"Paris, 12th May, 1765.

"Dear Sir,—I went, on Wednesday last, to be present at the examination of the Abbé Choquart's school, with which I was very well satisfied; especially for the part your young folks had in it. There were several people present who came to hear their children and relations; and when Gilbert was going through some demonstrations of geometry, with a very good grace, I asked some who sat next me, whether they could perceive him to be a foreigner? They all declared that they could not; and were very much surprised when I told them that he had not yet been in the country six months. Hugh retains still a little of a foreign accent, but it is wearing out gradually. Mr. Liston speaks so well as to be able to pass himself for a Gascon!

"There was also one circumstance of your young gentlemen's behaviour with which I was much pleased; but whether you will take the praise of it to yourself, or ascribe it partly to the imitation of French manners, I cannot determine. I arrived a little before the commencement of the examination; and, walking into the garden, I took shelter, from the heat, under some trees. Your young gentlemen, as soon as they saw me, ran and brought me a chair, which they placed carefully in the most shady spot they could find. I doubt this attention would not be very common among mere English schoolboys.

"Lord Hertford has received, from George Grenville, a final answer to a very earnest, and very pressing letter he had wrote in my favour. Never was any refusal so decisive, so cold, so positive, so determined; not the least circumstance of apology, of good manners, or of regard: he even gives it as a reason why I cannot be appointed, because Sir Charles Bunbury has never yet desired to change his situation. In short, the letter is so different from all letters usually wrote on such occasions, and so different from those which Mr. Grenville was accustomed to write to Lord Hertford, that my lord concludes there is some particular reason of coldness, though he cannot conjecture what it is. But there are also, in the letter, some expressions which mark extreme animosity against me. Lord Hertford thinks, they will admit of another sense; and desires me to write to you, in order to ask whether you have ever perceived such sentiments in that gentleman. I know that I have affirmed, and, what is worse, have proved, that Queen Elizabeth's maxims of government were full as arbitrary as those of the Stuarts. I know that this proposition, though now an undoubted and acknowledged truth, is contrary to the principles of sound Whiggery. I know also, that Mr. Grenville, as a sound Whig, bore me no good will on that account; but I did not really think that his quarrel could have gone to such an extremity.[275:1] You are sensible of the consequences which I apprehended, and which you did not, last summer, think so dangerous as I imagined. I have now, for the first time, explained to my lord the nature of my situation, which somewhat surprised him, being so contrary to the assurances given him by Mr. Grenville: but he told me that my interest was secure; for that he thought himself obliged to make me reparation from his private fortune, for any breach of faith which I might apprehend from the public. If this point were fixed, it would probably stop the malignity of my enemies, who will see that they can only do a small ill to Lord Hertford, instead of a great one which they might intend against me. However, my lord being desirous to know, from you, Mr. Grenville's sentiments, as far as you can discover them, I am engaged to enter into this detail, which otherwise I might have desired to avoid. I am, with great sincerity, my dear sir, your most obedient servant."[275:2]

Hume to Mr. Oswald.

"Paris, 2d June, 1765.

"My Dear Sir,—There is a gentleman here, an Abbé, and a man of letters, who is willing to enter into a commerce, or mutual exchange with me, on every point of political and commercial knowledge.[276:1] He has a great deal of very exact information, with regard to every thing that concerns these subjects; has great freedom of thought and speech, and has no connexions with any minister. As a sample, he has sent me the enclosed questions, which I could not exactly answer, and is willing to answer any of a like kind, which I could propose to him. I thought I could not do better than transmit them to you; and as I know you will also have questions to ask, I shall also transmit them to him, and you may depend on his answer as just and solid. I have left the margin large enough, to save you trouble. I know you are the most industrious and the most indolent man of my acquaintance; the former in business, the latter in ceremony. The present task I propose to you is of the former kind.

"You will hear that Sir Charles Bunbury is appointed Secretary for Ireland. Lord Hertford thinks it absolutely certain, that I am to succeed him; and I, too, think it very probable. My lord throws up immediately, if this demand is not complied with; yet, notwithstanding these favourable circumstances, I shall not be wonderfully surprised, in case of a disappointment. I know that I can depend on your good offices with Lord Halifax, and with every other person on whom you have influence. Lord Hertford writes this post to that noble lord. The present advantages I possess are so great, that it seems almost extravagant to doubt of success; and yet, in general, it appears to me almost incomprehensible how it should happen, that I, a philosopher, a man of letters, nowise a courtier, of the most independent spirit, who has given offence to every sect and every party, that I, I say, such as I have described myself, should obtain an employment of dignity, and a thousand a-year. This event is in general so strange, that I fancy, in the issue, it will not have place. I am, dear sir, yours sincerely."[277:1]

Hume had come to the conclusion, and certainly justly, that as he performed the functions of secretary of the embassy in France, he ought to possess the rank and emoluments of that office. He appears, however, to have been reluctant to take any steps personally for the accomplishment of this object; and his correspondence with his friends shows that some urgency was necessary to overcome his scruples.[278:1] Having, however, finally decided on his course, he appears to have pursued it with great energy and perseverance, and to have moved every influence through which he was likely to accomplish his end.

On 24th June, 1765, Hume writes to his brother that he "has now been appointed secretary to the embassy, with the usual salary of £1200 a-year." He says, "The English ministry had intended not to appoint another secretary of the embassy, who they knew could not be received, but to suppress that office altogether from views of frugality." For the continuance of the office, and its bestowal on himself, he seems to have relied very much on the intervention of a foreign lady, his friend Madame de Boufflers; and, strange as it may seem to find such an influence effective in the councils of a British cabinet, he appears to have been convinced that, had the matter not been previously settled in his favour, her application would have brought it to a conclusion. Continuing his letter to his brother, he says, "Nobody can do more justice to the merit of my friend the Comtesse de Boufflers, than the Duke and Duchess of Bedford, who have indeed been essentially obliged to her in their family concerns. She wrote the duke about a fortnight ago, that the time was now come, and the only time that probably would ever come, of his showing his friendship to her, by assisting me in my applications; and she would rest on this sole circumstance all his professions of regard to her. He received her letter while in the country, but he wrote her back, that he would immediately hasten to town, and if he had any credit with the king or ministry, her solicitations should be complied with. He is not a man that ever makes vain professions, nor does he ever take a refusal. He would find the matter finished when he came to London; but it is a sensible pleasure to me, that I owe so great an obligation, to a person whom I love and esteem so sincerely as that lady."[279:1]

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

"Have you heard of the share which Madame de Boufflers had in this event? As soon as she heard that there was a vacancy, by means of the promotion of Sir Charles Bunbury, my predecessor, she wrote to the Duke of Bedford, entreating him, in the most earnest terms, to befriend me in my pretensions, and setting all my claims in the most favourable light. The duke answered her, that he would soon be in London; and if he had any credit or authority with the ministry, her friend should not fail of success. The duke is not a man that ever promises in vain, nor is he a man that is ever to be refused; so that, from this interest alone, I was sure to have prevailed. But happily the same post brought intelligence to the ambassador, that the affair was already finished. But do you not think, that I owe the same obligations to our friend? or will you tell me, that I seek only a pretence for indulging my inclinations?"[280:1]

The statement is repeated in the following letter to Elliot.

Hume to Gilbert Elliot of Minto.

"Paris, 3d June, 1765.

"My Dear Sir,—Not finding your young gentlemen in church last Sunday, I went to see them, when I found them both confined to the house with a light fever, which has since turned out the measles in form, but with all the most favourable symptoms. I find Mr. Liston very attentive and very careful; the young gentlemen are attended by the physician of the academy. I use the freedom to tell Lady Hertford the way in which they are governed; she tells me she would not act otherwise in the case of her own children; so that Mrs. Murray,[281:1] if you please to communicate to her this intelligence, can have no reason for anxiety. Gilbert has a greater quantity than Hugh, and greater strength to bear them.

"You know, I suppose, that I am appointed secretary to the embassy, though I have not yet received my credential letter: the present confusions in the court may perhaps retard them for some time; but Mr. Grenville has informed the ambassador that the matter is concluded, and the king has given his consent; so that in spite of Atheism and Deism, of Whiggism and Toryism, of Scoticism and Philosophy, I am now possessed of an office of credit, and of £1200 a-year: without dedication or application, from the favour alone of a person, whom I can perfectly love and respect. I find it has cost my lord a very hard pull; and when I consider the matter alone, without viewing the steps that led to it, I am sometimes inclined to be surprised how it has happened.

"Shall I tell you another circumstance that is not disagreeable to me; a certain lady, who is at present in London, hearing there was some delay, wrote in the most earnest terms to the Duke of Bedford, desiring his interest in my favour; he answered her he would soon be in London, and if he then possessed any credit or authority, she might depend upon the success of her friend. You know that he is not a man that makes vain professions, nor is he a man easy to be refused. If you guess the lady, you will conclude that it will not cost me a great effort to be grateful. The share you have also been pleased to take is not forgot, and strengthens our ancient friendship. I am, my dear sir, yours sincerely."[282:1]

It is probable that this appointment was impeded by more difficulties than Hume himself could see, or his friends make him aware of. His being a Scotsman of itself made it then unpopular, and in his case there were other reasons likely to weigh with statesmen who looked in the direction of popularity. We are told that "the printers of the London Evening Post and Gazetteer , were called before the House of Lords, on a complaint made by the Earl of Marchmont, for printing a letter (written by Wilkes,) reflecting on the Earl of Hertford, ambassador at Paris, for employing David Hume the historian as his secretary, and representing the embassy as totally of Scotch complexion."[282:2]

No sooner had this appointment been completed, than Lord Hertford was recalled, and Hume was left for a time chargé d'affaires at Paris.

The ambassador had been appointed by Lord Bute, but had chiefly acted during the administration of Grenville, with whom he and his connexions were not, as Hume's correspondence has shown, on very friendly terms. In July, 1765, the Rockingham administration was formed, in connexion with which Lord Hertford became lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and his brother secretary of state with the leadership of the House of Commons. Hume had thus to perform the functions of British representative until the Duke of Richmond arrived as ambassador in October. Of the manner in which he performed the duties of his office, Lord Brougham says:

By Lord Aberdeen's kindness I have been allowed to examine the correspondence of the embassy with Marshal Conway during these four months; and it is highly creditable to the philosopher's business-like talents, and his capacity for affairs. The negotiations of which he had the sole conduct related to the important and interesting discussions of Canada; matters arising out of the cession by the peace of Paris; and to the demolition of the works at Dunkirk, also stipulated by that treaty. His despatches, some of them of great length, most of them in his own hand, are clearly and ably written. The course which he describes himself as pursuing with the very slippery and evasive ministers against whom he had to contend, particularly the Duc de Praslin, appears to have been marked by firmness and temper, as well as by quickness and sagacity. His memorials, of which two or three are given, show a perfect familiarity with diplomatic modes and habits, and they are both well written and ably reasoned. His information must have been correct; for he obtained a knowledge of the secret proceedings of the assembly of clergy, which, though convoked for the purpose of obtaining the usual don gratuit, chose to enter upon the discussion of all the clerical grievances; while they kept their deliberations carefully secret, and were opposed by the parliament of Paris as soon as their proceedings became known. Mr. Hume obtained a very early, though somewhat exaggerated account of these things, through two of the foreign ambassadors; and when he communicated it to the Bishop of Senlis, he was treated with contempt, as if nothing could be so wild, and as if some enemy of the church had invented the fable to discredit her. Marshal Conway appears by his despatches (which are also excellent) to have rested his hopes of these differences passing off, on the prevailing irreligious spirit in France, where "the Dauphin alone," he says, "has any care for such matters; and he has of late taken a military turn." In a short time the whole ferment was allayed by the prudent and able conduct of Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse; the don gratuit was voted; and the assembly was prorogued to the following May. Mr. Hume praises Brienne very highly on this, as indeed he did on all occasions.[284:1]

Hume's familiar letters make us fully acquainted with the feelings he experienced at this juncture.

Hume to his Brother.

"Compiègne, 14th July, 1765.

"Dear Brother,—There arrived yesterday a messenger from England with my commission under the great seal. My appointments, as I told you, are £1200 a-year. I have also £300 for my equipage, and three hundred ounces of plate for my table. This is the fair side of the picture. The misfortune is, that General Conway, the ambassador's brother, is secretary of state. The Duke of Grafton, his nephew,[284:2] is the other secretary. You still say, better and better. Not at all. My Lord Hertford goes for England in a few days, and leaves the burden of the embassy upon me. Still you say, where is the harm of all this? You are come to years of discretion, and can govern yourself. Wait a little, dear brother. Lord Hertford goes lord-lieutenant to Ireland, and there is an end of the ambassador, and probably of the secretary.

"It is true I can count upon Lord Hertford's friendship as much as any man's in the world. One day last spring, he came into my room, and told me that he heard of many people who endeavoured by their caresses to persuade me that I ought to remain in France. But he hoped that I would embrace no scheme of life which would ever separate him and me. He now loved me as much as ever he esteemed me, and wished we might pass our lives together. He had resolved several times to have opened his breast so far to me; but being a man of few words and no professions, he had still delayed it, and he now felt himself much relieved by this declaration of his desires and intentions. I know that Lord Hertford will not go to Ireland unless he be allowed to name the secretary for that kingdom. Perhaps he may think his son, Lord Beauchamp, too young for that office; in which case I may very probably expect it, and it is an office of between £3000 and £4000 a-year, and stands next in dignity to all the great offices of the state. In all cases the lord-lieutenant for Ireland has many and great things to give, of which I should certainly expect one.

"Still you say, this is all better and better: Not at all! You know the fluctuation of English politics. Perhaps, before you receive this, the whole present system is overturned. Lord Hertford, who, while he remained here, was a man of no party, is involved with his friends. All is turned topsy-turvy: and before next winter, perhaps, I am at your fireside without office or employment! Here, indeed, I allow you to say, so much the better; for I never had much ambition, I mean for power and dignities, and I am heartily cured of the little I had. I believe a fireside and a book the best things in the world for my age and disposition. I write in some hurry, therefore can only add, that if the old ministry return, I can look upon the Duke of Bedford alone as my friend, by means of the lady I mentioned to you. If the ministry stand, I have, by Lord Hertford's means, many and great friends; and the king, I have been well assured, honours me particularly with his good opinion. In all cases it is a great point for me to have obtained this commission to a place of so much trust and credit and silences all objections against me, whether they arose from religion or politics. Direct your letters to me as Secrétaire d'Ambassade d'Angleterre à Paris. I hate any thing that disturbs so agreeable a settlement as I had obtained before these great events. My compliments to Mrs. Home and to Katy. Keep this letter to yourself, but write part of it to our sister."[286:1]

Hume to Dr. Blair.

"Compiègne, 20th July, 1765.

"Tell Dr. Robertson that the Dauphin asked Mr. Hume several questions the other day, about him and his History. That prince seems a reasonable man, but would be the better of being roasted sometimes in The Poker .[286:2] If they will elect him a member, Mr. Hume will propose it to him.[286:3] What does the doctor say at present to these great folding doors opened to all the chimeras of ambition? Alas! they may be thrown open much wider, if possible; none of these chimeras will enter. Philosophy, with her severe brows, guards the passage; while Indolence, in affright, is ready to throw herself out at the window. Mr. Hume recommends himself to Ferguson and Jardine, and John Adams and Mrs. Adams, and to all the Poker, and desires the prayers of the faithful for him on this occasion."

Hume had now actually before him the prospect of filling the high office of secretary to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland. Writing to his brother on 4th August, 1765, he again states that Lord Hertford, before his departure, had assured him that he would not accept of the lord-lieutenancy, unless he were allowed the naming of the secretary; and now adds, that the office is destined for himself, in conjunction with Lord Hertford's son, Lord Beauchamp; and that his own salary is to be about £2000 a-year. He continues:

"Thus you see a splendid fortune awaits me: Yet you cannot imagine with what regret I leave this country. It is like stepping out of light into darkness, to exchange Paris for Dublin. The most agreeable circumstance is the friendship and confidence of the lord-lieutenant; and if the present credit of that family continue, as it is likely to do, I shall probably have it in my power to do service to my friends—particularly to your young folks; for as to you and myself, it is long since we thought our fortunes entirely made."[287:1]

He was not, however, destined to fill this office; and neither he himself, nor his best friends, appear to have regretted the circumstance; the fact being that he was but slenderly endowed with either of the qualifications then indispensable to an Irish statesman,—a capacity for hard drinking, and adroitness in bold political intrigues. The exercise of an official function, among a people where one sect of Christians enjoyed all offices, emoluments, and honours, while another, following the national religion, were scarcely allowed to live, must have shocked his sense of political justice; while it may be questioned if he was a sufficiently bold politician to have attempted any reform of this abuse. The project of his appointment, however, was brought so near its consummation, as to elicit certain applications for ecclesiastical preferment, in order that the reputation he had achieved, in other places, for influence in this department of patronage, might not be unacknowledged in Ireland.[288:1]

In his letters to his friends, at this time, he describes these vicissitudes of fortune; and indulges in a feeling to which he was very prone,—an uncertainty as to his future projects, and an indolent disinclination to make up his mind how to act.

Hume to Dr. Blair.

"Paris, 23d August, 1765.

"All the literati of my friends, who understand English, think your Dissertation one of the finest performances in our language. A gentleman, of my acquaintance, has translated it for his own satisfaction. He could not publish it without publishing "Ossian" at the same time. My scepticism extends no farther, nor ever did, than with regard to the extreme antiquity of those poems; and it is no more than scepticism.

"You may, perhaps, have heard of the rapid whirl of my fortune backwards and forwards of late. I had scarce received my commission, as secretary to the embassy, when I knew that that situation, the most agreeable in which I could have been placed, was not to last. Lord Hertford must go to Ireland, and resolved to carry me over as secretary to that kingdom, in conjoint commission with his son. On his arrival at London, he found the cry so loud against the promotion of Scotsmen, that he was obliged to give it up; which he did the more easily, as he knew my great reluctance to that office and scene of life. He has now got a pension of £400 a-year settled on me; and as he has prepared an apartment for me in the castle of Dublin, I shall hurry thither as soon as I leave France, and shall be afterwards free for the rest of my life.[289:1] I have not determined where I shall pass my latter days. This place should be the most agreeable to me; but a man who came late thither, and who is not supported by family connexions, may, perhaps, find himself misplaced, even in this centre of letters and good society. I have a reluctance to think of living among the factious barbarians of London; who will hate me because I am a Scotsman, and am not a Whig, and despise me because I am a man of letters. My attachment to Edinburgh revives as I turn my face towards it."[290:1]

Hume to his Brother.

"Dear Brother,—I am now to inform you of another pretty rapid change in my fortune. Lord Hertford, on his arrival in London, found great difficulty of executing his intentions in my favour. The cry is loud against the Scots; and the present ministry are unwilling to support any of our countrymen, lest they bear the reproach of being connected with Lord Bute. For this reason, Lord Hertford departed from his project; which he did the more readily, as he knew I had a great reluctance to the office of secretary for Ireland; which requires a talent for speaking in public, to which I was never accustomed. I must also have kept a kind of open house, and have drunk and caroused with the Irish, a course of living to which I am as little accustomed. The Duke of Bedford, to whom I mentioned these objections, thought them very solid. I think myself, at present, much better provided for, by a pension of £400 a-year for life, which Lord Hertford has procured me. He also writes me, that an apartment is fitting up for me in the castle of Dublin. I shall go thither as soon as I can leave France; which will not be till the end of October or beginning of November, on the arrival of the Duke of Richmond. Meanwhile, I am Chargé des affaires d'Angleterre à la cour de France, which is the title under which you must write to me, if you favour me with a letter.

"Lord Hertford had another additional project for my advantage, in Ireland. The keeper of the black rod is a very genteel office, which yields about £900 during the session. He proposed, as I cannot be present on the opening of the parliament, to give that office to another, who would officiate, and would be content with £300. But I declined this offer; not as unjust, but as savouring of greediness and rapacity.[291:1]

"Please to write all these particulars to Katty, except the last, and seal and send her the enclosed. I am charmed with the accounts I hear of Josey, from all hands. Yours sincerely.

"There was a kind of fray in London, as I am told, upon Lord Hertford's declaring his intentions in my favour. The Princess Amelia said, that she thought the affair might be easily accommodated: why may not Lord Hertford give a bishopric to Mr. Hume?"[292:1]

Writing an account of these transactions to Smith, in nearly the same words, on 5th November, he commences his letter with the observation, "I have been whirled about lately in a strange manner; but, besides that none of the revolutions have ever threatened me much, or been able to give me a moment's anxiety, all has ended very happily, and to my mind." He concludes thus:—

"As a new vexation to temper my good fortune, I am much in perplexity about fixing the place of my future abode for life. Paris is the most agreeable town in Europe, and suits me best; but it is a foreign country. London is the capital of my own country; but it never pleased me much. Letters are there held in no honour: Scotsmen are hated: superstition and ignorance gain ground daily. Edinburgh has many objections, and many allurements. My present mind, this forenoon, the 5th of September, is to return to France. I am much pressed here to accept of offers, which would contribute to my agreeable living; but might encroach on my independence, by making me enter into engagements with princes, and great lords, and ladies. Pray give me your judgment.

"I regret much I shall not see you. I have been looking for you every day these three months. Your satisfaction in your pupil gives me equal satisfaction."[293:1]

He writes to Blair, on 28th December:—

"Dear Doctor,—After great wavering and uncertainty, between Paris and Edinburgh, (for I never allowed London to enter into the question,) I have, at last, fixed my resolution to remain some time longer in Paris. Perhaps I may take a trip to Rome next autumn. Had I returned to Edinburgh, I was sensible that I shut myself up, in a manner, for life; and I imagine that I am, even yet, too young and healthy, and in too good spirits, to come to that determination. If you please, therefore, you may continue in my house, which I am glad pleases you. If you leave it, as you thought you would, Nairne may have it for £35, as we agreed."[293:2]

We have now to return to Jean Jacques Rousseau, whom we left, in 1762, seeking protection from the Earl Marischal at Neufchâtel. He finally took up his abode at Motiers Travers, a village on one of the passes of the Jura; where, now that some offensive associations connected with his character and writings have died away, the fame of his genius still lives, and has been no unprofitable commodity to the inhabitants. Here he had a wild rocky district to wander over, where he was not liable to encounter those dangerous impediments which beset the sojourners in the Alps. He had, at the same time, what was more to his purpose, a zealous priesthood and an intolerant populace surrounding him. That the outward manifestations of a morality, odious to his new neighbours, might not be wanting, he sent for his celebrated mistress, Thérèse la Vasseur, with whom he continued openly to live; and that the populace, thus exasperated, might be under no mistake as to the proper person to throw stones at, he adopted the garb of an Armenian.

It is much disputed whether he was really subjected to the attacks of which he afterwards complained; and it is said, that whatever tangible evidence of them was perceptible to other eyes than his own, was the doing of Mademoiselle la Vasseur, to drive him from a neighbourhood which she disliked. It will be found, however, that his story, as reported by Hume in the letters which follow, substantially coincides with the narrative in the "Confessions." This is in some measure a testimony to the sincerity of Rousseau's own conviction, that those hostile efforts were made against him; and indeed it would be useless to question the sincerity of his belief in any thing indicative of the malevolence of his fellow-beings. Having fled from Motiers, he lived for some time on the island of St. Pierre, in the lake of Bienne; and, driven from that asylum, he seems to have hesitated between England and Prussia as a place of refuge. He left the State of Bienne at the date at which his "Confessions" terminate, 29th October, 1765. He proceeded to Strasburg, where, by wearing his Armenian dress in the country where he had been proscribed, he certainly excited a considerable sensation. He appears to have held a sort of levée during his residence in that city, where his daily and hourly proceedings have been recorded with the precision of a court journal.[295:1]

It was here that he received Hume's letter, agreeing to aid him in finding an asylum in England. The negotiation between them had been brought to a conclusion by Madame de Verdelin, who had spent some time with Rousseau at Motiers, and persuaded him to take advantage of the impression which the Earl Marischal and Madame de Boufflers had made in his favour.[295:2]

Hume's heart was farther softened by a letter, full of miseries, which Rousseau had written to M. Clairaut. "I must own," says Hume, "I felt on this occasion an emotion of pity, mixed with indignation, to think a man of letters of such eminent merit, should be reduced, in spite of the simplicity of his manner of living, to such extreme indigence; and that this unhappy state should be rendered more intolerable by sickness, by the approach of old age, and the implacable rage of persecution." He was inclined even to sympathize with Rousseau's petulant rejection of proferred kindness; conceiving "that a noble pride, even though carried to excess, merited some indulgence in a man of genius, who, borne up by a sense of his own superiority, and a love of independence, should have braved the storms of fortune and the insults of mankind."[296:1]

Leaving Strasburg, the wanderer proceeded to Paris, where he went about in his Armenian dress; was mobbed and stared at to his heart's content, wrote to his friends, complaining with bitter eloquence that people would allow him neither solitude nor rest, shut himself up, and went forth again to the world. Before he could have ventured to appear so publicly, in the capital where a writ had been issued for the seizure of his person, he must have received very strong assurances of protection. The arrêt of the Parliament, however, was not recalled; and his friends must have felt somewhat provoked by his pertinacious courtship of popular notice, accompanied by the pretence of a desire to avoid it, by adopting only what was simple and natural—by wearing, for instance, so simple a dress as the fur cap, caaftan, and vest of an Armenian, in the streets of Paris! Hume, who seems really to have had faith in his modesty, must still have felt it awkward that the representative of Britain should be closely allied with a person so conducting himself; and was anxious, whenever the state of public business might permit him, to see his charge safely across the Channel. It was thought, in the meantime, expedient to find for Rousseau an asylum within the privileged area of the Temple, of which his friend, the Prince of Conti, was Grand Prior. We must now allow Hume himself to describe his new companion, and their intercourse.

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

Hume to Dr. Blair.

"I must, however, be in London very soon, in order to give an account of my commission; to thank the King for his goodness to me, and to settle the celebrated Rousseau, who has rejected invitations from half of the kings and princes of Europe, in order to put himself under my protection. He has been at Paris about twelve days; and lives in an apartment prepared for him by the Prince of Conti, which, he says, gives him uneasiness, by reason of its magnificence. As he was outlawed by the Parliament, it behoved him to have the King's passport, which was at first offered him under a feigned name; but his friends refused it, because they knew that he would not submit even to that falsehood. You have heard that he was banished from Neufchâtel by preachers, who excited the mob to stone him.

"He told me that a trap was laid for him, with as much art as ever was employed against a fox or a polecat. In the night-time a great enormous stone was suspended above the door, in such a manner, that on opening it in the morning, the stone must have fallen and have crushed him to death.[297:1] A man passing by early, perceived it, and called in to him at the window to be on his guard. He also told me, that last spring, when he went about the mountains amusing himself with botany, he came to a village at some distance from his own: a woman met him, who, surprised at his Armenian dress—for he wears, and is resolved to wear that habit during life—asked him what he was, and what was his name. On hearing it she exclaimed, 'Are you that impious rascal, Rousseau? Had I known it, I should have waited for you at the end of the wood, with a pistol, in order to blow out your brains.' He added, that all the women in Switzerland were in the same disposition, because the preachers had told them that he had wrote books to prove that women had no souls. He then turned to Madame de Boufflers, who was present, and said,—Is it not strange that I, who have wrote so much to decry the morals and conduct of the Parisian ladies, should yet be beloved by them; while the Swiss women, whom I have so much extolled, would willingly cut my throat? 'We are fond of you,' replied she, 'because we know that, however you might rail, you are at bottom fond of us to distraction. But the Swiss women hate you, because they are conscious that they have not merit to deserve your attention.'

"On leaving Neufchâtel, he took shelter in a little island about half a league in circumference, in the midst of a lake near Berne. There lived in it only one German peasant, with his wife and sister. The council of Berne, frightened for his neighbourhood, on account of his democratic more than his religious principles, ordered him immediately to withdraw from their state. He wrote the letter of which I send you a copy, as it is very curious. The council, in answer, reiterated their orders for him to begone. He then applied to me. I have made an agreement with a French gardener in Fulham for boarding him. We set out together in a few days.

"It is impossible to express or imagine the enthusiasm of this nation in his favour. As I am supposed to have him in my custody, all the world, especially the great ladies, tease me to be introduced to him. I have had rouleaus thrust into my hand, with earnest applications that I would prevail on him to accept of them. I am persuaded that, were I to open here a subscription with his consent, I should receive £50,000 in a fortnight. The second day after his arrival, he slipped out early in the morning to take a walk in the Luxembourg gardens. The thing was known soon after. I am strongly solicited to prevail on him to take another walk, and then to give warning to my friends. Were the public to be informed, he could not fail to have many thousand spectators. People may talk of ancient Greece as they please; but no nation was ever so fond of genius as this, and no person ever so much engaged their attention as Rousseau. Voltaire and every body else are quite eclipsed by him.

"I am sensible that my connexions with him add to my importance at present. Even his maid La Vasseur, who is very homely and very awkward, is more talked of than the Princess of Morocco or the Countess of Egmont, on account of her fidelity and attachment towards him. His very dog, who is no better than a collie, has a name and reputation in the world. As to my intercourse with him, I find him mild, and gentle, and modest, and good humoured; and he has more the behaviour of a man of the world, than any of the learned here, except M. de Buffon; who, in his figure, and air, and deportment, answers your idea of a marechal of France, rather than that of a philosopher. M. Rousseau is of a small stature, and would rather be ugly, had he not the finest physiognomy in the world: I mean the most expressive countenance. His modesty seems not to be good manners, but ignorance of his own excellence. As he writes, and speaks, and acts, from the impulse of genius, more than from the use of his ordinary faculties, it is very likely that he forgets its force whenever it is laid asleep. I am well assured that at times he believes he has inspirations from an immediate communication with the Divinity. He falls sometimes into ecstasies, which retain him in the same posture for hours together. Does not this example solve the difficulty of Socrates' genius, and of his ecstasies? I think Rousseau in many things very much resembles Socrates. The philosopher of Geneva seems only to have more genius than he of Athens, who never wrote any thing, and less sociableness and temper. Both of them were of very amorous complexions; but a comparison in this particular, turns out much to the advantage of my friend. I call him such, for I hear, from all hands, that his judgment and affections are as strongly biassed in my favour as mine are in his. I shall much regret leaving him in England; but even if a pardon could be procured for him here, he is resolved, as he tells me, never to return; because he never will again be in the power of any man. I wish he may live unmolested in England. I dread the bigotry and barbarism which prevail there.

"When he came to Paris, he seemed resolved to stay till the 6th or 7th of next month. But at present the concourse about him gives him so much uneasiness that he expresses the utmost impatience to be gone. Many people here will have it that this solitary humour is all affectation, in order to be more sought after; but I am sure that it is natural and unsurmountable:[301:1] I know that two very agreeable ladies breaking in upon him, discomposed him so much that he was not able to eat his dinner afterwards. He is short-sighted; and I have often observed, that while he was conversing with me in the utmost good-humour, (for he is naturally gay,) if he heard the door open, the greatest agony appeared on his countenance, from the apprehension of a visit; and his distress did not leave him, unless the person was a particular friend. His Armenian dress is not affectation. He has had an infirmity from his infancy, which makes breeches inconvenient for him; and he told me, that when he was chased into the mountains of Switzerland, he took up this new dress, as it seemed indifferent what habit he there wore. I could fill a volume with curious anecdotes regarding him, as I live in the same society which he frequented while in Paris. But I must not exhaust your patience. My kind compliments to Ferguson, Robertson, and all the brethren. I am," &c.

"Paris, 28th Dec. 1765."

"P.S.—Be not surprised that I am going to say in my postscript, the direct contrary to what I said in my letter. There are four days of interval between my writing the one and the other; and on this subject of my future abode, I have not these four months risen and gone to bed in the same mind. When I meet with proofs of regard and affection from those I love and esteem here, I swear to myself that I shall never quit this place. An hour after, it occurs to me that I have then for ever renounced my native country and all my ancient friends, and I start with affright. I never yet left any place but with regret: judge what it is natural for me to feel on leaving Paris, and so many amiable people with whom I am intimately connected, while it is in my power to pass my life in the midst of them. Were I not indispensably obliged to go to London, I know that it would be impossible for me to leave this place. But it is very probable that being once there, and fairly escaped from the cave of Circe, I may reconcile myself again to the abode of Ithaca. I left Edinburgh with great reluctance. To return to it, after having tripled my revenue in less than three years, can be no hardship. I must, therefore, fairly warn you to remove from my house at Whitsunday. I have taken a house at Paris; but I will have one also in Edinburgh, and shall deliberate in London which of them I shall occupy. I shall not go to Ireland. The arrival of the Duke of Richmond was late; and this engagement with M. Rousseau protracts my return so long, that it will not be worth while to go to Dublin. Lord Hertford has been so good as to excuse me. You have heard of the great fortune of Trail, who is, I believe, your acquaintance, and a very honest fellow. Nothing is so agreeable to an irresolute man, says the Cardinal de Retz, as a measure which dispenses him from taking an immediate resolution. I am exactly in the case. I hope your resigning my house will be no hardship to you."[303:1]

Hume, Rousseau, and M. de Luze of Geneva, a friend of the fugitive, left France early in January 1766. We have no account of their arrival, except Rousseau's statement in a letter to Malesherbes, that whenever he set foot on the land of liberty, he leaped on his illustrious friend's neck, embraced him without uttering a word, and covered his face with kisses and tears; a ceremony with which Hume would probably have dispensed, in the presence of "the barbarians who inhabit the banks of the Thames." The first notice of their sojourn in Britain, is in a bulletin by Hume to Madame de Boufflers, dated London, 19th January, 1766. He says,—

My companion is very amiable, always polite, gay often, commonly sociable. He does not know himself when he thinks he is made for entire solitude. I exhorted him on the road to write his memoirs. He told me, that he had already done it with an intention of publishing them.

At present, says he, it may be affirmed, that nobody knows me perfectly, any more than himself; but I shall describe myself in such plain colours, that henceforth every one may boast that he knows himself, and Jean Jacques Rousseau. I believe, that he intends seriously to draw his own picture in its true colours: but I believe, at the same time, that nobody knows himself less. For instance, even with regard to his health, a point in which few people can be mistaken, he is very fanciful. He imagines himself very infirm. He is one of the most robust men I have ever known. He passed ten hours in the night-time, above deck, during the most severe weather, when all the seamen were almost frozen to death, and he caught no harm. He says that his infirmity always increases upon a journey; yet was it almost imperceptible on the road from Paris to London.

His wearing the Armenian dress is a pure whim; which, however, he is resolved never to abandon. He has an excellent warm heart; and, in conversation, kindles often to a degree of heat which looks like inspiration. I love him much, and hope that I have some share in his affections.

I find that we shall have many ways of settling him to his satisfaction; and as he is learning the English very fast,[304:1] he will afterwards be able to choose for himself. There is a gentleman of the name of Townsend, a man of four or five thousand a-year, who lives very privately, within fifteen miles of London, and is a great admirer of our philosopher, as is also his wife. He has desired him to live with him, and offers to take any board he pleases. M. Rousseau was much pleased with this proposal, and is inclined to accept of it. The only difficulty is, that he insists positively on his gouvernante's sitting at table,—a proposal which is not to be made to Mr. and Mrs. Townsend.

This woman forms the chief encumbrance to his settlement. M. de Luze, our companion, says, that she passes for wicked and quarrelsome, and tattling; and is thought to be the chief cause of his quitting Neufchâtel. He himself owns her to be so dull, that she never knows in what year of the Lord she is, nor in what month of the year, nor in what day of the month or week; and that she can never learn the different value of the pieces of money in any country. Yet she governs him as absolutely as a nurse does a child. In her absence his dog has acquired that ascendant. His affection for that creature is beyond all expression or conception.

I have as yet scarce seen any body except Mr. Conway and Lady Aylesbury.[305:1] Both of them told me, they would visit Jean Jacques, if I thought their company would not be disagreeable. I encouraged them to show him that mark of distinction.[305:2] Here I must also tell you of a good action which I did; not but that it is better to conceal our good actions. But I consider not my seeking your approbation as an effect of vanity: your suffrage is to me something like the satisfaction of my own conscience. While we were at Calais, I asked him whether, in case the King of England thought proper to gratify him with a pension, he would accept of it. I told him, that the case was widely different from that of the King of Prussia; and I endeavoured to point out to him the difference, particularly in this circumstance, that a gratuity from the King of England could never in the least endanger his independence. He replied: "But would it not be using ill the King of Prussia, to whom I have since been much obliged? However, on this head (added he,) in case the offer be made me, I shall consult my father;" meaning Lord Marischal.[306:1] I told this story to General Conway, who seemed to embrace with zeal the notion of giving him a pension, as honourable both to the king and nation. I shall suggest the same idea to other men in power whom I may meet with, and I do not despair of succeeding.

P. S.—Since I wrote the above, I have received your obliging letter, directed to Calais. M. Rousseau says, the letter of the King of Prussia is a forgery; and he suspects it to come from M. de Voltaire.[306:2]

The project of Mr. Townsend, to my great mortification, has totally vanished, on account of Mademoiselle Le Vasseur. Send all his letters under my cover.[307:1]

Hume writes again on the 12th, to state that he has succeeded in obtaining the promise of a pension from the king: "You know," he says, "that our sovereign is extremely prudent and decent, and careful not to give offence. For which reason, he requires that this act of generosity may be an entire secret." He states, that this information must be kept to herself and the Prince of Conti: and she in her answer, admires Hume's generous and delicate conduct, and promises to keep the secret. In his postscript Hume announces the important fact, that Mademoiselle le Vasseur had arrived, and had found a companion to whom such a rag of celebrity was no small acquisition.

"P.S.—Since I wrote the above, I have seen General Conway, who tells me that the king has spoke to him on the same subject, and that the sum intended is a hundred pounds a-year: a mighty accession to our friend's slender revenue.

"A letter has also come to me open from Guy the bookseller, by which I learn that Mademoiselle sets out post, in company with a friend of mine, a young gentleman, very good-humoured, very agreeable—and very mad! He visited Rousseau in his mountains, who gave him a recommendation to Paoli, the King of Corsica; where this gentleman, whose name is Boswell, went last summer, in search of adventures. He has such a rage for literature, that I dread some event fatal to our friend's honour. You remember the story of Terentia, who was first married to Cicero, then to Sallust, and at last, in her old age, married a young nobleman, who imagined that she must possess some secret, which would convey to him eloquence and genius."[308:1]

Soon after, we find Hume writing as follows:—

Hume to his Brother.

"London, 2d February, 1766.

"As you know that I never left any place without regret, you may imagine that I did not leave Paris altogether willingly, after having been so long accustomed to it. I do not find this new scene near so much to my taste; and I shall be long ere I am reconciled to it. Perhaps Edinburgh may please me better; I promise myself at least some satisfaction in my nephews, of whom I hear a very good account; and it is surely more suitable to one of my years to seek a retreat in my native country, than to pass the dregs of life among the great, and among people who, though they seem to have a friendship for me, are still strangers. I accustom myself, therefore, to this idea without reluctance; and since I have crossed the seas, I find my regret for the good company I left behind me, less pungent and uneasy. . . . .

"You will have heard by this time, that I have brought over with me the famous Rousseau, the most singular man, surely, in the world. He applied to me last summer to take him under my protection in England, as he called it; but in the meanwhile, he was chased out of Switzerland, and came to Strasburg, with an intention of going to the King of Prussia, who pressed him earnestly to live with him. At Strasburg my letter reached him, making him an offer of all my services; upon which he turned short, and having obtained the King of France's passport, came and joined me at Paris. I have lived with him ever since. He is a very modest, mild, well-bred, gentle-spirited, and warm-hearted man, as ever I knew in my life. He is also to appearance very sociable. I never saw a man who seems better calculated for good company, nor who seems to take more pleasure in it. Yet is he absolutely determined to retire and board himself in a farmer's house among the mountains of Wales, for the sake of solitude. He has refused a pension from the King of Prussia, and presents from hundreds. I have been offered great sums for him, if I could have prevailed on him to accept of them. Yet, till within these three months, he was in absolute beggary. He has now about £70 a-year?[309:1] which he has acquired by a bargain for his works. It is incredible the enthusiasm for him in Paris, and the curiosity in London. I prevailed on him to go to the play-house in order to see Garrick, who placed him in a box opposite the king and queen. I observed their majesties to look at him more than at the players.[309:2] I should desire no better fortune than to have the privilege of showing him to all I please. The hereditary prince paid him a visit a few days ago; and I imagine the Duke of York called on him one evening when he was abroad. I love him much, and shall separate from him with much regret."[310:1]

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

"You have seen in the newspapers enow of particulars concerning my pupil, who has now left me and retired to Chiswick. He is impatient to get into the mountains of Wales. He is a very agreeable amiable man, but a great humorist.[310:2] The philosophers of Paris foretold to me that I could not conduct him to Calais without a quarrel; but I think I could live with him all my life in mutual friendship and esteem. I am very sorry that the matter is not likely to be put to a trial! I believe one great source of our concord is, that neither he nor I are disputatious, which is not the case with any of them. They are also displeased with him because they think he overabounds in religion; and it is indeed remarkable, that the philosopher of this age who has been most persecuted, is by far the most devout. I do not comprehend such philosophers as are invested with the sacerdotal character. I am, dear doctor, yours usque ad aras."[310:3]

The first attempt to find a settlement for Rousseau, was with the French gardener at Fulham, already alluded to. The arrangement proposed by Hume was, that the gardener was to receive from fifty to sixty pounds a-year, as the consideration for boarding Rousseau and Mademoiselle, but that he was only to draw twenty-five pounds from Rousseau, from whom he was to keep the arrangement secret.[311:1] Rousseau rejected this arrangement with disgust; and various other efforts to find him a suitable home were equally unsuccessful. Hume, who, as Rousseau himself tells Madame de Boufflers, was more anxious about his welfare than he was himself, appears to have spent week after week, in the vain pursuit of a resting place for the wanderer—no sooner framing a hopeful scheme than it was contemptuously rejected. It does not appear, however, that the inquiries were conducted precisely in the sphere in which Rousseau liked to act. It is clear that he had not come to Britain to negotiate with farmers at Chiswick, or French gardeners at Fulham. He undoubtedly expected much more distinguished titles to be mixed up with his arrangements; and we find that it was not till a rich man's well kept country mansion was put at his disposal, that he deigned to be for a moment satisfied. A letter to Blair, contains a very full narrative of the subsequent proceedings.

Hume to Dr. Blair.[312:1]

Lisle Street, Leicester Fields,
25th March, 1766.

Dear Doctor,—I had asked M. Rousseau the question you propose to me: He answered, that the story of his "Héloise" had some general and distant resemblance to reality; such as was sufficient to warm his imagination and assist his invention: but that all the chief circumstances were fictitious. I have heard in France, that he had been employed to teach music to a young lady, a boarder in a convent at Lyons; and that the master and scholar fell mutually in love with each other; but the affair was not attended with any consequences. I think this work his masterpiece; though he himself told me, that he valued most his Contrat Social ; which is as preposterous a judgment as that of Milton, who preferred the Paradise Regained to all his other performances.

This man, the most singular of all human beings, has at last left me; and I have very little hopes of ever being able, for the future, to enjoy much of his company, though he says, that if I settle either in London or Edinburgh, he will take a journey on foot every year to visit me. Mr. Davenport, a gentleman of £5000 or £6000 a-year, in the north of England, and a man of great humanity and of a good understanding, has taken the charge of him. He has a house called Wooton, in the Peake of Derby, situated amidst mountains and rocks and streams and forests, which pleases the wild imagination and solitary humour of Rousseau; and as the master seldom inhabited it, and only kept there a plain table for some servants, he offered me to give it up to my friend. I accepted, on condition that he would take from him £30 a-year of board for himself and his gouvernante, which he was so good-natured as to agree to. Rousseau has about £80 a-year, which he has acquired by contracts with his booksellers, and by a liferent annuity of £25 a-year, which he accepted from Lord Marischal. This is the only man who has yet been able to make him accept of money.

He was desperately resolved to rush into this solitude, notwithstanding all my remonstrances; and I foresee, that he will be unhappy in that situation, as he has indeed been always in all situations. He will be entirely without occupation, without company, and almost without amusement of any kind. He has read very little during the course of his life, and has now totally renounced all reading: He has seen very little; and has no manner of curiosity to see or remark: He has reflected, properly speaking, and studied very little; and has not indeed much knowledge: He has only felt, during the whole course of his life; and in this respect, his sensibility rises to a pitch beyond what I have seen any example of: but it still gives him a more acute feeling of pain than of pleasure. He is like a man who were stript not only of his clothes, but of his skin, and turned out in that situation to combat with the rude and boisterous elements, such as perpetually disturb this lower world. I shall give you a remarkable instance of his turn of character in this respect: It passed in my room, the evening before his departure.

He had resolved to set out with his gouvernante in a post-chaise; but Davenport, willing to cheat him and save him some money, told him that he had found a retour chaise for the place, which he might have for a trifle, and that luckily it set out the very day in which Rousseau intended to depart. His purpose was to hire a chaise, and make him believe this story. He succeeded at first, but Rousseau afterwards ruminating on the circumstances, began to entertain a suspicion of the trick. He communicated his doubts to me, complaining that he was treated like a child; that though he was poor, he chose rather to conform himself to his circumstances, than live like a beggar on alms; and that he was very unhappy in not speaking the language familiarly, so as to guard himself against these impositions. I told him that I was ignorant of the matter, and knew nothing more of it, than I was told by Mr. Davenport, but if he pleased I should make inquiry about it. "Never tell me that," replied he, "if this be really a contrivance of Davenport's, you are acquainted with it, and consenting to it; and you could not possibly have done me a greater displeasure." Upon which he sat down very sullen and silent; and all my attempts were in vain to revive the conversation, and to turn it on other subjects; he still answered me very drily and coldly. At last, after passing near an hour in this ill-humour, he rose up and took a turn about the room. But judge of my surprise, when he sat down suddenly on my knee, threw his hands about my neck, kissed me with the greatest warmth, and bedewing all my face with tears, exclaimed, "Is it possible you can ever forgive me, my dear friend? After all the testimonies of affection I have received from you, I reward you at last with this folly and ill behaviour: but I have notwithstanding a heart worthy of your friendship; I love you, I esteem you, and not an instance of your kindness is thrown away upon me." I hope you have not so bad an opinion of me as to think I was not melted on this occasion; I assure you I kissed him and embraced him twenty times, with a plentiful effusion of tears. I think no scene of my life was ever more affecting.[315:1]

I now understand perfectly his aversion to company; which appears so surprising in a man well qualified for the entertainment of company, and which the greater part of the world takes for affectation. He has frequent and long fits of the spleen, from the state of his mind or body, call it which you please; and from his extreme sensibility of temper, during that disposition, company is a torment to him. When his spirits and health and good humour return, his fancy affords him so much and such agreeable occupation, that to call him off from it gives him uneasiness; and even the writing of books, he tells me, as it limits and restrains his fancy to one subject, is not an agreeable entertainment. He never will write any more; and never should have wrote at all, could he have slept a-nights. But he lies awake commonly; and to keep himself from tiring, he usually composed something, which he wrote down when he arose. He assures me, that he composes very slowly, and with great labour and difficulty.

He is naturally very modest, and even ignorant of his own superiority. His fire, which frequently rises in conversation, is gentle and temperate; he is never in the least arrogant and domineering, and is, indeed, one of the best bred men I ever knew. I shall give you such an instance of his modesty as must necessarily be sincere. When we were on the road, I recommended to him the learning of English, without which, I told him, he would never enjoy entire liberty, nor be fully independent, and at his own disposal. He was sensible I was in the right, and said, that he heard there were two English translations of his "Emile, or Treatise on Education;" he would get them as soon as he arrived in London; and as he knew the subject, he would have no other trouble, than to learn or guess the words: this would save him some pains in consulting the dictionary; and as he improved, it would amuse him to compare the translations and judge which was the best. Accordingly, soon after our arrival, I procured him the books, but he returned them in a few days, saying that they could be of no use to him. "What is the matter?" replied I. "I cannot endure them," said he, "they are my own work; and ever since I delivered my books to the press, I never could open them, or read a page of them without disgust." "That is strange," said I, "I wonder the good reception they have met with from the world has not put you more in conceit with them." "Why," said he, "if I were to count suffrages, there are perhaps more against them than for them." "But," rejoined I, "it is impossible but the style, and eloquence, and ornaments must please you." "To tell the truth," said he, "I am not displeased with myself in that particular: but I still dread, that my writings are good for nothing at the bottom, and that all my theories are full of extravagance. Je crains toujours que je pèche par le fond, et que tous mes systèmes ne sont que des extravagances." You see that this is judging of himself with the utmost severity, and censuring his writings on the side where they are most exposed to criticism. No feigned modesty is ever capable of this courage. I never heard —— reproach himself with the ——: nobody ever heard you express any remorse, for having put Ossian on the same footing with Homer!

Have I tired you, or will you have any more anecdotes of this singular personage? I think I hear you desire me to go on. He attempted once to justify to me the moral of his New Heloisa, which, he knew, was blamed, as instructing young people in the art of gratifying their passions, under the cover of virtue, and noble refined sentiments. "You may observe," said he "that my Julia is faithful to her husband's bed, though she is seduced from her duty during her single state; but this last circumstance can be of no consequence in France, where all the young ladies are shut up in convents, and have it not in their power to transgress: it might, indeed, have a bad effect in a Protestant country." But notwithstanding this reflection, he told me, that he has wrote a continuation of his "Emilius," which may soon be published. He there attempts to show the effect of his plan of education, by representing Emilius in all the most trying situations, and still extricating himself with courage and virtue. Among the rest, he discovers that Sophia, the amiable, the virtuous, the estimable Sophia, is unfaithful to his bed, which fatal accident he bears with a manly superior spirit. "In this work," added he, "I have endeavoured to represent Sophia in such a light that she will appear equally amiable, equally virtuous, and equally estimable, as if she had no such frailty." "You take a pleasure, I see," said I, "to combat with difficulties in all your works." "Yes," said he, "I hate marvellous and supernatural events in novels. The only thing that can give pleasure in such performances is to place the personages in situations difficult and singular." Thus, you see, nothing remains for him but to write a book for the instruction of widows! unless perhaps he imagines that they can learn their lesson without instruction. Adieu, dear doctor; you say that you sometimes read my letters to our common friends; but you must read this only to the initiated.[317:1]

Almost the only other matter which appears conspicuously in Hume's correspondence during his intercourse with Rousseau, is the death of a dear friend, often mentioned in his previous letters—Dr. Jardine. He was a man of strong judgment, and much sarcastic wit; but his articles in The Edinburgh Review of 1755, are almost the only specimens of his ability which he has left to posterity. He was born in Dumfries-shire on 3d January, 1716, and he was minister of the Tron Church parish when he died. The death was sudden; and Hume, overlooking the calamitous consequences of such events to surviving relatives, and in harmony with the opinions he had expressed on death in a still more appalling form, seems to have considered its suddenness as fortunate. He thus writes to Blair, on 5th June.

"I cannot begin my letter without lamenting most sincerely the death of our friend Dr. Jardine. I do not aggravate it by the circumstance of its being sudden, for that is very desirable. But surely we shall ever regret the loss of a very pleasant companion, and of a very friendly honest man. It makes a blank which you must all feel, and which I in particular will sensibly feel, when I come amongst you. I need not ask you whether the miscreants of the opposite party do not rejoice, for I take it for granted they do."[318:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[264:1] MS. R.S.E.

[265:1] MS. R.S.E. In answer, Millar tells him that the prejudice is not against the Scots, but against Lord Bute; that matters have now, however, been all put right, for "it is generally believed that Mr. Greenville is a good manager of the finances, and in general means well: as a proof of it, our stocks have been creeping up daily, and it is now generally believed that 3 per cent will soon come to par if affairs continue peaceable!" One possessed of better opportunities of judging, and more capable of using them, joins in these anticipations of success with which Grenville's disastrous career as a financier opened. Elliot says, on 25th March, 1765: "To-morrow Mr. Grenville opens the budget, as it is usually called, and I believe our revenue will appear to be on a better footing than is usually believed. I hope we shall have discharged as much debt without breach of faith as you have done in a politer way. Not that I pretend to censure your method. You borrow at a high interest during time of war, and it is understood you are to take your own method in peace. Our mode of proceeding is the very reverse of this. . . . Your negotiation with regard to the French prisoners you must have heard, met with all the approbation it so well deserved." (MS. R.S.E.)

[268:1] Probably Vallière. The Duc de Vallière was supposed to be the author of some anonymous theatrical pieces.

[270:1] MS. R.S.E.

[270:2] This gentleman is the same who afterwards distinguished himself as a diplomatist, and who was so well known by the title of Sir Robert Liston.

[272:1] Minto MSS.

[273:1] Mallet died on 21st April, 1765.

[273:2] MS. R.S.E.

[275:1] On account of his taxation system having caused the American Revolution, Grenville is now generally ranked with statesmen of despotic principles. He was, however, an avowed admirer of the democratic portions of the constitution; and it was in truth his ill-directed advocacy of popular rights, not an intentional departure from his avowed principles, that made his administration so disastrous. His zeal for the independent authority of Parliament, and for the curtailment of the prerogatives of the Crown, induced him to struggle for the exercise by parliament, in the colonies, of a power with which the crown could not compete,—that of taxation.

[275:2] Minto MSS.

[276:1] Evidently the Abbé Morellet, who afterwards corresponded with Hume on these subjects. He was born in 1727, and died in 1819. From his great age and the cheerful social habits of his latter years, he was one of the few members of the school of the Encyclopædiasts, whom men of the present generation have been accustomed to meet in general society. Morellet possessed two distinct titles to fame. He had written some grave and valuable books on political economy and statistics; while in lighter literature, and in Madame Geoffrin's circle, he enjoyed a high reputation for playful and pungent wit. His friends likened him to Swift; but as he sought to avoid malice in his sarcasms, and to make them subservient to good principles in morals and religion, he might, in this part of his character, be more aptly compared with Sydney Smith. He had a great partiality for Scottish music; but it may be doubted if this taste was either created or fostered by his intercourse with Hume. In his very amusing Memoires, he describes a dinner with a musical party near Plymouth, in the open air. Some young ladies, with their father and mother, approached near enough to hear the music. The Abbé gallantly carried them a basket of cherries. "Je les prie en même temps de vouloir bien chanter some Scotish song, dont, moi Français, j'étais very fond. Elles se regardent un moment: et dès que nous fûmes retournés à nos places, comme si notre plus grand éloignement les eût rassurées, elles se mettent à chanter toutes les trois à l'unisson, avec des voix d'une extrême douceur, The lass of Peatie's Mill. Le temps, le lieu, la singularité de la rencontre ajoutèrent quelques charmes à ce petit concert." Vol. i. p. 209.

[277:1] Memorials of Oswald, p. 81.

[278:1] Mr. Elliot, in answer to the letter printed above, (p. 189,) says, "So, my dear sir, you have at last, with no small reluctance, and after many struggles, prevailed with yourself to acquaint some of your friends that Lord Hertford means to desire that government would be graciously pleased to bestow the character and emoluments of the secretaryship upon the person who actually performs the functions of it. At your time of life, with so much independency about you, and so unlike all your former conduct, indeed I am not at all surprised that it cost you near two pages of apology and explanation before you would even intrust me with the secret. Were you less deep in the study of human nature, and somewhat more an adept in the ways of men, I am apt to think you would rather have filled your letter with excuses for not having sooner made this application."

He goes on to state, that he has been exerting himself in the matter, but that on all occasions he had found himself anticipated by Lord Hertford. He continues:

"As to ingrata patria ne ossa quidem habebis, don't be at all uneasy. Here I can speak more peremptorily; and notwithstanding all your errors, mistakes, and heresies in religion, morals, and government, I undertake you shall have at least Christian burial, and perhaps we may find for you a niche in Westminster Abbey besides. Your Lockes, Newtons, and Bacons had no great matter to boast of during their lives; and yet they were the most orthodox of men; they required no godfather to answer for them; while, on the other hand, did not Lord Hertford spread his sevenfold shield over all your transgressions? Pray, what pretensions have you, either in church or state; for you well know you have offended both?"—MS. R.S.E.

[279:1] MS. R.S.E.

[280:1] Private Correspondence, p. 121.

[281:1] Mrs. Elliot, who as an heiress preserved the name of Murray Kynynmond.

[282:1] Minto MSS.

[282:2] Walpole, Memoirs of George III. i. 391. Walpole pretends that Conway's dismissal was partly caused by revenge against Lord Hertford for his conduct on this occasion, (ib. 402.) But from his own account of it, the resolution to dismiss Conway had been taken before Hume's appointment.

[284:1] Lives of Men of Letters, &c. p. 225.

[284:2] He was Lady Hertford's nephew.

[286:1] MS. R.S.E.

[286:2] See above, p. 172.

[286:3] The Dauphin was then far advanced in the disease of which he died. According to the ordinary French historians, he was at the same time so completely subjected to the priestly influence of the Molinists, as to justify the supposition, that the decay of his mind kept pace with that of his body. Others give a totally different account of him, and Walpole says, "To please his family, the prince went through all the ceremonies of the church, but showed to his attendants after they were over, how vain and ridiculous he thought them. Many expressions he dropped in his last hours that spoke the freedom of his opinions; and to the Duc de Nivernois he said, he was glad to leave behind him such a book as 'Hume's Essays.'" Memoirs of George III. vol. ii. p. 242. The Dauphin died on 20th December, 1765.

[287:1] MS. R.S.E.

[288:1] A general officer of reputation, making such an application, on behalf of a friend, says:—

"The divine in question has a very good living, but in a quarter of the world where he has not a creature to converse with. If his excellency would enrol him among that million of the tribe of Levi, that attend at the Castle of Dublin, who are called his chaplains, it would excuse his attendance at quarters: And his general,—I mean, his bishop, would be under the necessity of permitting him to be absent whilst he had the honour to be about the commander-in-chief at headquarters."—MS. R.S.E.

[289:1] Lord Hertford, writing to Hume, on 5th August, says:—

"Dear Sir,—You will see, in the papers, that Barré is to be my secretary; but it has no other foundation. If I had been at liberty, I should have desired to continue with him whose abilities and ease in business I have so long experienced; but the world will have it otherwise, and it must be my son. He is popular in Ireland; and I am invited, on all hands, to name him; at the same time that I am told the great danger of indulging my own inclinations, that if I named you, with the particular additional prejudice that prevails, at present, against the Scotch, that I should condemn my own administration. I have, therefore, made it the condition of my acceptance of the lieutenancy, that you are immediately provided for in a manner less likely to subject you to the inconvenience of party changes. I have explained, both to the King and the ministers, how essential I thought it to my honour and ease of mind; and it is resolved. I flatter myself I shall soon be able to acquaint you, that I have been a good solicitor; and, as my private friend, I beg leave to assure you that I shall always be most happy in receiving you in Dublin, and every other part of the world, let the prejudices and follies of mankind be what they will. I hope you will consider me as your friend; and I will desire no other return for all the services I may be able to do you, than such a portion of your time as you can bestow upon me, consistently with your inclination. The Duke of Richmond goes to France: I do not yet know upon what plan, having not seen him. He is a pretty figure; is easy in his behaviour; and does not want parts. I wish he may have temper, experience, and knowledge of men for that place. I have talked to my brother, as it became a wellwisher to peace, upon this occasion. You will receive, by the messenger which carries this letter to France, an official one from my brother, drawn by himself, by which you will be able to judge of his style. I need not add any thing to it. Every thing which passed, in a very long conference we had together with Guerchy, is fully stated in it; but, when you talk to the Duke of Praslin upon it, you will, if you please, take an opportunity of recommending from me, in a particular manner, the indulgence required for the holders of the Canada bills. This point may be essential to the good understanding between the two courts."—MS. R.S.E.

[290:1] MS. R.S.E.

[291:1] Lord Hertford writes Hume, on 16th August;—

"The usher of the black rod, in Ireland, is in my disposal. It produces, in the course of a session, from £800 to £900, as I am informed. If you approve it, my intention is to give it to a gentleman who will be extremely satisfied to accept of £300 a-year for his trouble, at most, and the rest will be placed to your account, without interrupting the benefit of the pension."

And again, on September 5, after Hume's refusal:—

"The black rod you will give me leave to dispose of as I intended. You shall, at the end of the session, refuse the emoluments I propose to reserve out of it, if you see sufficient reason. £300 for doing the duty of it should satisfy the person to whom I will give it."—MS. R.S.E.

[292:1] Lit. Gazette , 1822, p. 711. Corrected from original in MSS. R.S.E.

[293:1] Lit. Gazette , 1822, p. 722. Corrected from original in MSS. R.S.E.

[293:2] MS. R.S.E.

[295:1] We are told (vie de Rousseau par Musset Pathay, i. 102,) that a certain M. Augar, having been here presented to the apostle of education, said he was bringing up his son after the model of "Emile." "So much the worse both for you and your son;" tant pis pour vous et pour votre fils, said Rousseau. This must have been highly satisfactory. Of all the theories to reconcile Rousseau's contradictions,—to discover on what principle he preached up parental care, and sent his own children to the foundling hospital, the best is supplied by himself in a single sentence in the Heloise: "L'on sait bien que tout homme qui pose des maximes générales, entend qu'elles obligent tout le monde, excepté lui." This is certainly more intelligible than the mystical theory of his eulogist, D'Escherny: "Il n'y a que les sots qui ne se contredisent point, parce que leur esprit borné ne voit jamais qu'un côté de l'objet."

[295:2] He states, in the "Confessions," that when Wallace's work on the Number of Mankind was passing through the press, Hume undertook the revision of the proof sheets, though the work was written against himself. I am not aware of any other authority for this anecdote. Rousseau said he was charmed with it, because the conduct was so much like his own!

[296:1] Account of the Controversy between Hume and Rousseau.

[297:1] "Un banc très-massif, qui étoit dans la rue à côté de ma porte et fortement attaché, fut détaché, enlevé, et posé debout contre la porte; de sorte que, si l'on ne s'en fût aperçu, le premier qui pour sortir auroit ouvert la porte d'entrée, devoit naturellement être assommé."—Confessions , Liv. 12.

[301:1] Hume, though habitually sceptical, was far from being suspicious; and in his kindness to his new companion, he took every thing in sincerity. "C'est un des malheurs de ma vie," says Rousseau, "qu'avec un si grand désir d'être oublié, je sois contraint de parler de moi sans cesse;" but those who knew him better than Hume did at so early a period of their intercourse, do not give him credit for desiring to be either neglected or forgotten. Madame de Genlis professes to have been much vexed and perplexed by having acted on a reliance similar to Hume's. Rousseau had promised to accompany her to the Comédie Françoise, on the condition that they were to occupy a loge grillée. When they entered, madame flew to shut the grating; Rousseau opposed her; he was sure she would not like it to be closed, and he would be sufficiently hidden, by sitting behind her. In the scuffle he was recognised; madame, vexed and terrified, insisted that the grating should be closed; but he was inexorable. The commencement of a popular piece soon relieved them from notice, and when the eyes of the audience were averted from him, Rousseau grew gloomy and rude. He afterwards professed himself deeply offended at having been exhibited as a wild beast! Mémoires , ii. 12.

The same lady gives a more pleasing instance of his characteristics at that time, in describing her first introduction to him. A friend told her, that her husband intended to play a trick on her: to employ the celebrated mimic Preville, the Foote of the French stage, to personate Rousseau at his table. The expected guest appeared. His dress and appearance were so unlike other people's, yet so like what would have been expected in Rousseau—his conversation was so brilliant—that it certainly must be a piece of wonderful acting. Thoroughly at her ease, she laughed, and talked, and sang the airs of the Devin du village. It was Rousseau himself! and not accustomed, in this the full blaze of his reputation, to be received with so much freedom, by a young and accomplished woman, he pronounced her to be the most lively and unaffected of her sex.

[303:1] MS. R.S.E.

[304:1] It does not appear that Rousseau made any progress in English. In a letter to Hume, from Wooton, he says, "J'ai eu hier la visite de M. le Ministre, qui, voyant que je ne lui parlois que François, n'a pas voulu me parler Anglois, de sorte que l'entrevue s'est passée à peu près sans mot dire. J'ai pris goût à l'expédient; je m'en servirai avec tous mes voisins, si j'en ai; et dussé-je apprendre l'Anglois, je ne leur parlerai que François, sur-tout si j'ai le bonheur qu'ils n'en sachent pas un mot."

[305:1] General Conway's wife.

[305:2] Rousseau writes to Hume:—

Le Lundi Soir.

Je vous supplie, mon très cher patron, de vouloir bien m'excuser auprès de Myladi Ailesbury et de Mr. Le Général Conway. Je suis malade, et hors d'état de me présenter, et Mademoiselle Le Vasseur, très bonne, et très estimable personne, n'est point faite pour paroître dans les grandes compagnies. Trouvez bon, mon très cher patron, que nous nous en tenions au premier arrangement et que j'attende dans l'après midi le carrosse que M. Davenport veut bien envoyer. J'arrive suant et fatigué d'une longue promenade: c'est pourquoi je ne prolonge pas ma lettre: vous m'avez si bien acquis et je suis à vous de tant de manières que cela même ne doit plus être dit. Je vous embrasse de toute la tendresse de mon cœur.

J. J. Rousseau.

Had Lady Aylesbury requested the honour of Mademoiselle le Vasseur's company along with that of her keeper? Rousseau tells us what pleasure it gave him to see Madame la Marechale de Luxembourg embrace her in public. But if any English lady of rank and character offered to extend her hospitality to such a person, there could be no stronger evidence of the general consent to suspend all social laws in favour of Rousseau.

[306:1] Of Lord Marischal he always spoke with respect. In the Confessions, he says, "O bon Milord! ô mon digne père! que mon cœur s'émeut encore en pensant à vous! Ah les barbares! quel coup ils m'ont porté en vous détachant de moi! Mais non, non, grand homme, vous êtes et serez toujours le même pour moi, qui suis le même toujours."

[306:2] Madame de Boufflers seems to have early apprehended mischief from Walpole's letter. In the letter referred to, she says, "Je voudrois savoir si une lettre du Roy de Prusse qui court Paris est vraie ou fausse. On dit qu'elle est pleine d'ironie." She then proceeds to describe the letter. Hume in answer says, "I suppose, that by this time you have learned it was Horace Walpole who wrote the Prussian letter you mentioned to me. It is a strange inclination we have to be wits, preferably to every thing else. He is a very worthy man; he esteems and even admires Rousseau; yet he could not forbear, for the sake of a very indifferent joke, the turning him into ridicule, and saying harsh things against him. I am a little angry with him; and I hear you are a great deal: but the matter ought to be treated only as a piece of levity."—Private Correspondence , p. 130.

[307:1] Private Correspondence, p. 125-128.

[308:1] Private Correspondence, p. 131-132.

[309:1] The mark of interrogation is in the MS.

[309:2] Writing to the Marquise de Barbantane, he makes the following addition to this anecdote:—

"When the hour came, he told me, that he had changed his resolution, and would not go: 'for—what shall I do with Sultan?' That is the name of his dog. 'You must leave him behind,' said I. 'But the first person,' replied he, 'who opens the door, Sultan will run into the streets in search of me, and will be lost.' 'You must then,' said I, 'lock him up in your room, and put the key in your pocket.' This was accordingly done: but as we went down stairs, the dog howled and made a noise; his master turned back, and said he had not resolution to leave him in that condition; but I caught him in my arms and told him, that Mrs. Garrick had dismissed another company in order to make room for him; that the King and Queen were expecting to see him; and without a better reason than Sultan's impatience, it would be ridiculous to disappoint them. Partly by these reasons, and partly by force, I engaged him to proceed."—Private Correspondence , p. 144.

[310:1] MS. R.S.E.

[310:2] The word appears not to be used in its modern popular sense, but as meaning a person full of caprice.

[310:3] MS. R.S.E.

[311:1] In his narrative of the controversy, Hume says, "I wrote immediately to my friend Mr. John Stewart of Buckingham Street, that I had an affair to communicate to him, of so secret and delicate a nature, that I should not venture even to commit it to paper, but that he might learn the particulars of Mr. Elliot. . . . . Mr. Stewart was to look out for some honest and discreet farmer in his neighbourhood, who might be willing to lodge and board M. Rousseau and his gouvernante. . . . . It was not long before Mr. Stewart wrote me word he had found a situation, which he conceived might be agreeable," &c.

In confirmation of this narrative, there is the following letter in the MSS. R.S.E. Mr. Stewart is probably the "Jack Stewart," frequently alluded to in Hume's letters.

"My Dear Sir,—Mr. Elliot told me the affair you recommended to him. Since his arrival I have tried every farmer in our side of the country, and can find no proper place. Some have not room, some hate foreigners, some don't chuse boarders, and the major part of all are such beings as he could not live with in any comfortable manner. There is an old Frenchman who has been here since a child, and has a sort of a garden farm at Fulham. To him I proposed the thing without mentioning names, and to oblige me he will take such a boarder: but still I could wish to find a place where he would be more agreeably situated, for this man keeps only a single maid, eats very plain, and his house is as dirty as a Frenchman's in France. The farmer himself is about sixty years old, unmarried, a cheerful honest creature, of a very obliging disposition. Consider whether this will suit your purpose, or if I should try in other counties. Adieu, my worthy good sir. Believe me eternally, your devoted servant,

"J. Stewart."

[312:1] Blair had written on 24th February,—

"I received both your letters; and am exceedingly indebted to you for the many curious and entertaining anecdotes you gave me concerning Rousseau. They bestowed upon me somewhat of the same importance which you say your connexion with Rousseau himself bestowed upon you in Paris, by having so much information to give my friends from you concerning so extraordinary a personage. Your accounts pleased me the more, that they coincided very much with the idea I had always formed of the man—amiable but whimsical. Strong sensibilities joined with an oddly arranged understanding. He is a proof of what I always thought to be a possible mixture in human nature, one being a sceptic from the turn of their mind, and yet an enthusiast from the turn of their heart; for this I take to be his real character—a man floating betwixt doubts and feelings—betwixt scepticism and enthusiasm: leaning more to the latter than the former; his understanding strangely tinctured by both." He desires Hume to ask Rousseau, whether the principal scenes in his "Héloise" were not founded on real events.—MS. R.S.E.

[315:1] This anecdote is told in substantially the same manner to Madame de Boufflers, to whom its spirit would be doubtless far less incomprehensible than to Dr. Blair.—See Private Correspondence , p. 150.

[317:1] Literary Gazette , 1822, p. 731, corrected from original, MS. R.S.E.

[318:1] MS. R.S.E. Blair writes on 12th June:—

"Poor Jardine—I knew you would join with us in dropping very cordial tears over his memory. What pleasant hours have I passed with you and him. We have lost a most agreeable companion, as it was possible for any man to be, and a very useful man to us here, in all public affairs. I thought of you at the very first as one who would sensibly feel the blank he will make in our society, when you come again to join it. But when are you to come?"—MS. R.S.E.