Chapter XIV: 1765-1766. Æt. 54-55 (2)

"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."