Chapter XV: 1766-1767. Æt. 55-56 (2)

I cannot sufficiently express, my dear sir, all the
acknowledgments which I owe you for the pains you have taken
in translating a work, which so little merited your attention,
or the attention of the public. It is done entirely to my
satisfaction; and the introduction in particular is wrote with
great prudence and discretion in every point, except where
your partiality to me appears too strongly. I accept of it,
however, very willingly as a pledge of your friendship. You
and M. D'Alembert did well in softening some expressions,
especially in the notes; and I shall take care to follow these
corrections in the English edition. My paper, indeed, was not
wrote for the public eye; and nothing but a train of
unforeseen accidents could have engaged me to give it to the
press. I am not surprised, that those who do not consider nor
weigh those circumstances, should blame this appeal to the
public; but it is certain that if I had persevered in keeping
silence, I should have passed for the guilty person, and those
very people who blame me at present, would, with the
appearance of reason, have thrown a much greater blame upon
me. This whole adventure, I must regard as a misfortune in my
life: and yet, even after all is past, when it is easy to
correct any errors, I am not sensible that I can accuse myself
of any imprudence; except in accepting of this man when he
threw himself into my arms: and yet it would then have
appeared cruel to refuse him. I am excusable for not expecting
to meet with such a prodigy of pride and ferocity, because
such a one never before existed. But after he had declared war
against me in so violent a manner, it could not have been
prudent in me to keep silence towards my friends, and to wait
till he should find a proper time to stab my reputation. From
my friends, the affair passed to the public, who interested
themselves more in a private story, than it was possible to
imagine; and rendered it quite necessary to lay the whole
before them. Yet, after all, if any one be pleased to think,
that by greater prudence I could have avoided this
disagreeable extremity, I am very willing to submit. It is not
surely the first imprudence I have been guilty of.[358:1]

Among other distinctions, the publication of the controversy brought Hume a letter from Voltaire, in which the patriarch gave the history of his own grievances against Rousseau, with all his usual sarcasm; and said, of that absorbing vanity for which he might have had more fellow feeling, that Rousseau, believing himself worthy of a statue, thought one half of the world was occupied in raising it on its pedestal, and the other in pulling it down.[358:2]

This little collection, bearing the title, "Exposé succint de la contestation qui s'est élévée entre M. Hume et M. Rousseau, avec les pieces justificatives," was soon afterwards published in English, under Hume's own superintendence. He judiciously observed, that a translation would undoubtedly appear, and that it was more honest, and at the same time more conducive to his reputation, that he should himself superintend the publication.

He had intimated, that as Rousseau would probably impugn the genuineness of the letters as they appeared in print, he would deposit the originals in a public library. In this view, he addressed the following letter to the librarian of the British Museum.

"_Edinburgh, 23d Jan. 1767._

"SIR,--As M. Rousseau had wrote to several of his correspondents, that I never dared to publish the letters which he had wrote me; or if I published them they would be so falsified that they would not be the same, I was obliged to say in my preface, that the originals would be consigned in the Museum. I hope you have no objection to the receiving them. I send them by my friend M. Ramsay. Be so good as to give them the corner of any drawer. I fancy few people will trouble you by desiring a sight of them. All the world seems to be satisfied concerning the foundation of that unhappy affair. Yet notwithstanding, I own, that I never in my life took a step with so much reluctance as the consenting to that publication. But as it appeared absolutely necessary to all my friends at Paris, I could not withstand their united opinion. I have also sent the original of M. Walpole's letter to me, which enters into the collection. I am, sir, your most obedient, and most humble servant."[360:1]

It appears that the trustees of the British Museum, for some one or other of the inscrutable reasons which occasionally sway the counsels of such bodies, declined to receive this very curious collection of documents. Dr. Maty, writing to Hume on 22d April, 1767, says, "I longed to have some conversation with you on the subject of the papers, which were remitted to me by the hands of M{r.} Ramsay, and as our trustees did not think proper to receive them, to restore them into yours. With respect to these papers, give me leave to assure you, that I had never any doubt about the merits of the cause. I have long ago fixed my opinion about R----'s character, and think madness is the only excuse that can be offered for his inconsistencies."[360:2]

Those original letters connected with the controversy, which were addressed to Hume, whether by Rousseau or others, are among the papers in possession of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. They bear marks of having been much handled.[360:3] Of the letters addressed to Rousseau, which of course were written in French, it is to be presumed that Hume preserved the duplicates, which afterwards enabled him to show copies of the documents on both sides. The originals probably do not exist; for Rousseau, who held his own part in a controversy as the only important one, appears not to have kept the letters addressed to him, though he retained copies of his own.

The dispute with Rousseau very nearly produced a subsidiary discussion with Horace Walpole. He said, alluding to the advice which had been transmitted to Hume by D'Alembert, "Your set of literary friends are what a set of literary men are apt to be, exceedingly absurd. They hold a consistory to consult how to argue with a madman; and they think it very necessary for your character, to give them the pleasure of seeing Rousseau exposed; not because he has provoked you, but them. If Rousseau prints, you must; but I certainly would not, till he does."

Walpole evidently looked on this quarrel as a small dispute between small people;--something on a par with the wrangling of country gentlemen about their preserves and their swing gates.[361:1] Yet, when he found that his own name appeared to be connected with it, he thought it right to publish "a narrative of what passed relative to the quarrel of Mr. David Hume and J. J. Rousseau, as far as Mr. Horace Walpole was concerned in it." He very distinctly absolves Hume from any connexion with the fictitious letter of the King of Prussia. The only wrong of which he had to complain was, that Hume published this exoneration, of which it seems a publication was not expected, though the letter contained the words, "You are at full liberty, dear sir, to make use of what I say in your justification, either to Rousseau or any body else;" and that, in printing the letter, the passage above cited, reflecting on the literary circle of Paris, had been, from motives of delicacy towards all parties, suppressed.[362:1]

The only portion of Walpole's pamphlet that appears to possess any interest, contains Hume's remarks on his friend, D'Alembert. They were intended as an answer to Walpole's spiteful sneers; but, though eulogistic, and apparently just, they by no means exhibit a violent encomiastic zeal.

D'Alembert is a very agreeable companion, and of
irreproachable morals. By refusing great offers from the
Czarina and the King of Prussia, he has shown himself above
interest and vain ambition. He lives in an agreeable retreat
at Paris, suitable to a man of letters. He has five pensions:
one from the King of Prussia, one from the French King, one as
member of the Academy of Sciences, one as member of the French
Academy, and one from his own family. The whole amount of
these is not six thousand livres a-year; on the half of which
he lives decently, and gives the other half to poor people
with whom he is connected. In a word, I scarce know a man,
who, with some few exceptions, (for there must always be some
exceptions,) is a better model of a _virtuous_ and
_philosophical_ character.

You see I venture still to join these two epithets as
inseparable, and almost synonymous, though you seem inclined
to regard them almost as incompatible. And here I have a
strong inclination to say a few words in vindication, both of
myself and my friends; venturing even to comprehend you in the
number. What new prepossession has seized you, to beat in so
outrageous a manner your nurses of Mount Helicon, and to join
the outcry of the ignorant multitude against science and
literature? For my part, I can scarce acknowledge any other
ground of distinction between one age and another, between one
nation and another, than their different progress in learning
and the arts. I do not say between one man and another,
because the qualities of the heart and temper, and natural
understanding, are the most essential to the personal
character; but being, I suppose, almost equal among nations
and ages, do not serve to throw a peculiar lustre on any. You
blame France for its fond admiration of men of genius; and
there may no doubt be, in particular instances, a great
ridicule in these affectations; but the sentiment, in general,
was equally conspicuous in ancient Greece; in Rome, during its
flourishing period; in modern Italy; and even, perhaps, in
England about the beginning of this century. If the case be
now otherwise, it is what we are to lament and be ashamed of.
Our enemies will only infer, that we are a nation which was
once, at best, but half civilized; and is now relapsing fast
into barbarism, ignorance, and superstition. I beg you also
to consider the great difference, in point of morals, between
uncultivated and civilized ages. But I find I am launching out
insensibly into an immense ocean of commonplace. I cut the
matter, therefore, short, by declaring it as my opinion, that
if you had been born a barbarian, and had every day cooked
your dinner of horse flesh, by riding on it fifty miles
between your breech and the shoulder of your horse, you had
certainly been an obliging, good-natured, friendly man; but,
at the same time, that reading, conversation, and travel, have
detracted nothing from these virtues, and have made a
considerable addition of other valuable and agreeable
qualities to them. I remain, not with ancient sincerity, which
was only roguery and hypocrisy, but very sincerely, dear sir,
&c.

Rousseau did not resign his pension, and made it be very distinctly known that he would insist upon his claims to be paid what had been promised; but he would not owe it to the intervention of David Hume. He continued to reside for several months at Wooton, where he made some progress in his renowned "Confessions." "He is, I am sure," says Mr. Davenport, in one of his letters, "busy writing; and it should be some large affair, from the quantity of paper he bought." Like other mental patients, when long separated from his favourite excitement, his mind became attuned to less tumultuous movements; and he ceased, in some measure, to feel the want of notoriety. The visions of conspiracy and treachery gradually disappeared, and now we find him, in his letters, only saying; "Je n'ai rien à dire de M. Hume, sinon que je le trouve bien insultant pour un bon homme, et bien bruyant pour un philosophe." He had a genuine love of nature and of rural pursuits; and he appears to have varied his literary labours, by joining in some projects of Mr. Davenport for the cultivation of forest lands.

Writing to Blair, on 14th February, 1767, Hume says:--

"General Conway told me, on my arrival, that Rousseau had made an application to him, through the canal of Mr. Davenport, to have his pension granted to him. The general's answer was, that I was to be in town in a few days; and, without my consent, and even full approbation, he would take no step in that affair. You may believe that I exhorted him to do so charitable an action. I wish he may not find a difficulty with the King, who is very much prejudiced against Rousseau.[365:1] This step of my old friend confirms the suspicion which I always entertained, that he thought he had interest enough to obtain the pension of himself; and that he had only picked a quarrel with me in order to free himself from the humiliating burden of gratitude towards me. His motives, therefore, were much blacker than many seem to apprehend them.

"A gentleman told me that he heard, from the French ambassador, that his most Christian Majesty had given an arrêt, prohibiting, under the severest penalties, the printing, vending, or dispersing, any paper of Rousseau, or his partisans, against me. I dine with the ambassador to-day, so shall know the truth of the matter, which scarce appears credible. It is surely very honourable for me; but yet will occasion that strange man to complain, that he is oppressed with power all over the world. I am,"[365:2] &c.

At length, on the 31st of April, 1767, Rousseau and Mademoiselle Le Vasseur suddenly disappeared from Wooton together. Hume thus describes the incident in a letter to Blair:--

"You may, perhaps, have heard that Rousseau has eloped from Mr. Davenport, without giving any warning; leaving all his baggage, except Mademoiselle, about thirty pounds in Davenport's hands, and a letter on the table, abusing him in the most violent terms, insinuating that he was in a conspiracy with me to ruin him.[366:1] He took the road to London, but was missing for about a fortnight. At last he emerges at Spalding in Lincolnshire, whence he writes a letter to the Chancellor, informing him that the bad usage he had met with in England, made it absolutely necessary for him to evacuate the kingdom, and desiring his lordship to send him a guard to escort him to Dover--this being the last act of hospitality he will desire of the nation. He is plainly mad, though I believe not more than he has been all his life. The pamphlet you mention was wrote by one as mad as himself, and it was believed at first to be by Tristram Shandy, but proves to be [by] one Fuseli an engraver. He is a fanatical admirer of Rousseau, but owns he was in the wrong to me. The pamphlet I sent to you was wrote by an English clergyman, whom I never saw; a man of character, and rising in the church,[366:2] for which reason it is more prudent in me to conceal his name. When would _you_ have done so much for me."[367:1]

As Rousseau did not favour the world in his "Confessions," with the adventures he encountered during this flight, it is of some interest, in the absence of a personal narrative, to mark the impression produced by the incident on an onlooker, whom it seems to have filled with mingled feelings of compassion and astonishment. The following are some extracts from Mr. Davenport's letters to Hume:--

MR. DAVENPORT _to_ HUME.

_Davenport, 13th May, 1767._

DEAR SIR,--After all my inquiries, I can't, for the life of
me, find out to what part my wild philosopher is fled. I sent
after him some papers, thinking they would most certainly find
him in London. No such matter: he is not to be found there.
They scarce took any thing along with them, but what they
carried on their backs. All the trunks, &c. are at Wooton; and
this odd man has just packed up his things, and left the keys
dangling at the locks of his boxes. No sort of direction for
me, though he knows I am in his debt between £30 and £40; and
I want, of all things, to inform him what he has to do in
relation to his majesty's bounty, which I am sure he will with
great satisfaction receive, because I have it so positively
under his own hand. You shall have the joy of perusing his
letter; but one dated about six days before must be added to
it. At present my gout is too much upon me to write copies of
them. Pray, if you hear where he is, do me the pleasure to
inform me. I am, &c. &c.

P.S.--I protest I pity him more and more, as I certainly
conclude that his head is not quite right.

_Davenport, Monday 18th._

I can't help giving you the trouble of this. Last night I
received a most melancholy letter from poor Rousseau, dated
Spalding in Lincolnshire. How, or on what account, he got to
that place, I can't for the life of me guess; but this I
learn, that he is most excessively sick of his situation, and
is returning to Wooton, as soon as, I suppose, he can well get
there. He has been all the time at an inn in that town. Pray,
was the place you mentioned to me in that county, any where
near Spalding? I own to you, I was quite moved to read his
mournful epistle. I am quite confirmed in my opinion of him:
this last from him, is entirely different in style, from any I
ever yet received. I have in my answer, desired he would write
to some friend of his in town, to authorize him to receive his
majesty's bounty, as it becomes due. I have told him that his
agent must apply, and show his letter to Mr. Lounds of the
Treasury. Poor Rousseau writes of nothing but his misery,
illness, afflictions; in a word, of his being the most
unfortunate man that ever existed. Good God! most of those
distresses are surely occasioned by his own unhappy temper,
which I really believe is not in his power to alter! so, let
him be where he will, I fear he is certain to be uneasy. His
passion for Botany has, as I conjecture, almost left him. If I
am right in my guess, I have no sort of doubt, but he will
again take to his pen, as 'tis impossible for his imagination
to remain idle. I am, &c.

_Davenport, May 25, 1767._

DEAR SIR,--'Tis with the greatest satisfaction I hear, this
poor unfortunate man will enjoy the pension. I am sure he lies
under a thousand obligations to you, and am extremely glad he
has wrote to General Conway. I hope he made use of at least
some expressions of gratitude and respect to that gentleman,
whose goodness of heart obtained this favour from his majesty.

I am sure you'll do your endeavour to save him from the
Bastile, or (which I more fear) the Archbishop of Paris'
prison.

He wrote me a letter from Spalding, dated 11th, in which he
says, I have great reason to be offended at his manner of
leaving Wooton. He says,--

Je préférois la liberté, au séjour de votre maison; ce
sentiment est bien excusable. Mais je préfère infiniment le
séjour de votre maison à tout autre captivité, et je
préférerois toute captivité à celle où je suis, qui est
horrible, et qui, quoiqu'il arrive ne sauroit durer. Si vous
voulez bien Monsieur me recevoir derechef chez vous, je suis
prêt à m'y rendre au cas qu'on m'en laisse la liberté, et
quand j'y serois après l'expérience qui j'ai faite,
difficilement serois-je tenté d'en ressortir pour chercher de
nouveaux malheurs. Si ma proposition vous agrée, tâchez,
Monsieur de me le faire savoir par quelque voie sûre, et de
faciliter mon retour d'ici chez vous.

He repeats the same request of sending to him two or three
times. This which he sent on the 11th, I received on the 17th.
On the 18th I despatched a servant to Spalding: instead of
staying for my answer, behold, on the 14th he set out for
Dover, and on that morning wrote again by the post to me, in
which he says, that if he had any assurance this letter of the
11th would come to me, and that I would agree to his
proposals, and again receive him, he should certainly stay for
an answer; but as he despaired of my receiving his, so he was
determined to pass the Channel, and I should hear from him
when he reached Calais, and quite sure of his liberty; that he
would write from thence and make me a very singular
proposition. He professes the greatest regard for me, &c. The
next is dated, Dover, 18th May, where he says, that he chose
to write to me from that place; that seeing the sea, and
finding he was in reality a free man, and might either go or
stay,--then, says he, I stopped, and intended to return to
you; but by chance seeing in a public paper how my departure
from Wooton was treated, caused him immediately to renounce
that idea. He finishes with many compliments, but without
telling me where to write to him, and I long to know how to
address my letters. Before he left Wooton, he disposed of
several long gowns amongst the poor people, went off in an old
French dress, and got a blue coat made for him at Spalding.
Pray, can you inform me who he has authorized to receive his
majesty's bounty; because I think I may pay into their hands
the money I have of his in mine. I should be pleased if you
could be so kind as to inform me what date his letter bore,
which he wrote to the Lord Chancellor. I am, dear sir, &c.

_4th July, 1767._

This week I received a letter from Rousseau, dated, Fleury
under Meudon, wrote with great complaisance; he returns a
thousand thanks for all the civilities he received from me at
Wooton; says that he is not fixed as to the place of his
future residence, but that he will inform me as soon as he has
made choice of one.

The style of this is vastly different from some of the last of
those which he wrote in England; no mention of captivities, no
wild imaginations of any kind, but entirely calm and composed.
I heartily wish he may continue so, then sure he will be
somewhat happy. I am, &c.

_6th July, 1767._

The good woman who is called my housekeeper was my nurse, near
ninety, and more than three parts blind. Mad{lle} and she
never could agree. I have heard something of the story of the
kettle and cinders,[370:1] but am inclinable to believe my
philosopher's resolutions were determined before that fray
happened. His governante has an absolute power over him, and
without doubt more or less influences all his actions. You
certainly guess right about the unaccountable quarrel with
you, to whom he has so many and great obligations: nay, I am
almost sure he very heartily repents and inwardly wants to be
reconciled. He has desired to hear from me often, and promises
to let me know how he goes on, as soon as ever he is the least
fixed. What he was writing, is the same he mentioned to you,
will be a large work, containing at least twelve volumes. I
am positively certain that when I left him, he had not
entirely finished one. There's nothing in it which in any
shape relates to state affairs or to ministers of state.

You shall see his letter the first opportunity; but, God help
him! I can't, for pity, give a copy; and 'tis so much mixed
with his own poor little private concerns, that it would not
be right in me to do it. . . . I am, dear sir, &c.[371:1]

In the following letters, Hume narrates these events to his Northern friends, having been so frequently desired to give explanations of the rumours regarding Rousseau's escapades which occasionally reached Scotland, that he found it most expedient to answer miscellaneous inquiries by general chronological narratives.

HUME _to_ DR. BLAIR.

"_27th May, 1767._

"Since you are curious to hear Rousseau's story, I shall tell you the sequel of it. A few days after his letter to the Chancellor, of which I informed you, I got a letter from Davenport, who told me that he had just received a letter from Rousseau, dated at Spalding, wherein that wild philosopher, as he calls him, appeared very penitent, and contrite, and melancholy; and expressed his purpose of returning immediately to his former retreat at Wooton. The same day, and nearly the same hour, General Conway received a long letter from him, dated at Dover, about two hundred miles distant from Spalding. This great journey he had made in two days; and had probably set out immediately after writing the letter above-mentioned to Davenport.[372:1] This letter to General Conway is the most frenzical imaginable. He there supposes that he was brought into England by a plot of mine, in order to reduce him to infamy, derision, and captivity. That General Conway, and all the most considerable personages of the nation, and the nation itself, had entered into this conspiracy. That he is at present actually a state prisoner in General Conway's hands, and has been so ever since his arrival in the kingdom. He entreats him, however, to allow him the liberty of departing; warns him that it will not be safe to assassinate him in private; as he is unhappily too well known not to have inquiries made, if he should disappear on a sudden; and promises that if his request be granted, his memoirs shall never be printed to disgrace the English ministry and the English nation.

"He owns that he has wrote such memoirs, the chief object of which was to deliver a faithful account of the treatment he has met with in England; but he promises, that the moment he sets foot on the French shore, he shall write to the friend in whose hand the manuscript is deposited, to deliver it to the General, who may destroy it if he pleases. He adds, that as it may be objected, that after recovering his liberty he may do as he pleases, he offers, as a pledge of his sincerity, to accept of his pension; after which he thinks no one will imagine he could be so infamous as to write against the king's ministers or his people. Amidst all this frenzy, he employs these terms as if a ray of reason had for a moment broke into his mind. He says, speaking of himself in the third person, 'Non-seulement il abandonne pour toujours le projet d'écrire sa vie et ses mémoires, mais il ne lui échappera jamais, ni de bouche ni par écrit, un seul mot de plainte sur les malheurs qui lui sont arrivés en Angleterre; il ne parlera jamais de M. Hume, ou il n'en parlera qu'avec honneur, et lorsqu'il sera pressé de s'expliquer sur quelques indiscrètes plaintes, qui lui sont quelquefois échappées dans le fort de ses peines, il les rejettera sans mystère, sur son humeur aigrie et portée à la défiance, et aux ombrages par ce malheureux penchant, ouvrage de ses malheurs, et qui maintenant y met le comble.'[373:1]

"We hear that notwithstanding his imagined captivity, he has passed over to Calais; where he is likely to experience what real captivity is. I have, however, used my persuasion with Mons{r} de Guerchi to represent him to his court as a real madman, more an object of compassion than of anger. We shall no doubt see his Memoirs in a little time: which will be full of eloquence and extravagance, though perhaps as reasonable as any of his past productions; for I do not imagine he was ever much more in his senses than at present. I think I may be entirely without anxiety concerning all his future productions."[374:1]

The following letters to Smith appear to have been intended as a comprehensive history of the flight of Rousseau. The reader will readily excuse the repetition of some incidents already mentioned, and may perhaps find an interest in comparing the impressions produced by the events as they were successively occurring, with this general retrospect of the whole.

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_London, 8th October, 1767._

"DEAR SMITH,--I shall give you an account of the late heteroclite exploits of Rousseau, as far as I can recollect them. There is no need of any secrecy: they are most of them pretty public, and are well known to every body that had curiosity to observe the actions of that strange, undefinable existence, whom one would be apt to imagine an imaginary being, though surely not an _ens rationis_.

"I believe you know, that in spring last, Rousseau applied to General Conway to have his pension. The General answered to Mr. Davenport, who carried the application, that I was expected to town in a few days; and without my consent and approbation he would take no steps in that affair. You may believe I readily gave my consent. I also solicited the affair, through the Treasury; and the whole being finished, I wrote to Mr. Davenport, and desired him to inform his guest, that he needed only appoint any person to receive payment. Mr. Davenport answered me, that it was out of his power to execute my commission: for that his wild philosopher, as he called him, had eloped of a sudden, leaving a great part of his baggage behind him, some money in Davenport's hands, and a letter on the table, as odd, he says, as the one he wrote to me, and implying that Mr. Davenport was engaged with me in a treacherous conspiracy against him! He was not heard of for a fortnight, till the Chancellor received a letter from him, dated at Spalding in Lincolnshire; in which he said that he had been seduced into this country by a promise of hospitality; that he had met with the worst usage; that he was in danger of his life from the plots of his enemies; and that he applied to the Chancellor, as the first civil magistrate of the kingdom, desiring him to appoint a guard at his own (Rousseau's) expense, who might safely conduct him out of the kingdom. The Chancellor made his secretary reply to him, that he was mistaken in the nature of the country; for that the first post-boy he could apply to, was as safe a guide as the Chancellor could appoint. At the very same time that Rousseau wrote this letter to the Chancellor, he wrote to Davenport, that he had eloped from him, actuated by a very natural desire, that of recovering his liberty; but finding he must still be in captivity, he preferred that at Wooton: for his captivity at Spalding was intolerable beyond all human patience, and he was at present the most wretched being on the face of the globe: he would therefore return to Wooton, if he were assured that Davenport would receive him.

"Here I must tell you, that the parson of Spalding was about two months ago in London, and told Mr. Fitzherbert, from whom I had it, that he had passed several hours every day with Rousseau, while he was in that place; that he was cheerful, good-humoured, easy, and enjoyed himself perfectly well, without the least fear or complaint of any kind. However this may be, our hero, without waiting for any answer, either from the Chancellor or Mr. Davenport, decamps on a sudden from Spalding, and takes the road directly to Dover; whence he writes a letter to General Conway, seven pages long, and full of the wildest extravagance in the world. He says, that he had endured a captivity in England, which it was impossible any longer to submit to. It was strange, that the greatest in the nation, and the whole nation itself, should have been seduced by one private man, to serve his vengeance against another private man: he found in every face that he was here the object of general derision and aversion, and he was therefore infinitely desirous to remove from this country. He therefore begs the General to restore him to his liberty, and allow him to leave England; he warns him of the danger there may be of cutting his throat in private; as he is unhappily a man too well known, not to have inquiries made after him, should he disappear of a sudden: he promises, on condition of his being permitted to depart the kingdom, to speak no ill of the king or country, or ministers, or even of Mr. Hume; as indeed, says he, I have perhaps no reason; my jealousy of him having probably arisen from my own suspicious temper, soured by misfortunes. He says, that he wrote a volume of Memoirs, chiefly regarding the treatment he has met with in England; he has left it in safe hands, and will order it to be burned, in case he be permitted to go beyond seas, and nothing shall remain to the dishonour of the king and his ministers.

"This letter is very well wrote, so far as regards the style and composition; and the author is so vain of it, that he has given about copies, as of a rare production. It is indeed, as General Conway says, the composition of a whimsical man, not of a madman. But what is more remarkable, the very same post, he wrote to Davenport, that, having arrived within sight of the sea, and finding he was really at liberty to go or stay, as he pleased, he had intended voluntarily to return to him; but seeing in a newspaper an account of his departure from Wooton, and concluding his offences were too great to be forgiven, he was resolved to depart for France. Accordingly, without any farther preparation, and without waiting General Conway's answer, he took his passage in a packet boat, and went off that very evening. Thus, you see, he is a composition of whim, affectation, wickedness, vanity, and inquietude, with a very small if any ingredient of madness. He is always complaining of his health; yet I have scarce ever seen a more robust little man of his years. He was tired in England; where he was neither persecuted nor caressed, and where, he was sensible, he had exposed himself. He resolved, therefore, to leave it; and having no pretence, he is obliged to contrive all those absurdities, which he himself, extravagant as he is, gives no credit to. At least, this is the only key I can devise to his character. The ruling qualities above-mentioned, together with ingratitude, ferocity, and lying,--I need not mention eloquence and invention,--form the whole of the composition.

"When he arrived at Paris, all my friends, who were likewise all his, agreed totally to neglect him. The public, too, disgusted with his multiplied and indeed criminal extravagancies, showed no manner of concern about him. Never was such a fall from the time I took him up, about a year and a half before. I am told by D'Alembert and Horace Walpole, that, sensible of this great alteration, he endeavoured to regain his credit by acknowledging to every body his fault with regard to me: but all in vain: he has retired to a village in the mountains of Auvergne, as M. Durand tells me, where nobody inquires after him. He will probably endeavour to recover his fame by new publications; and I expect with some curiosity the reading of his Memoirs, which will I suppose suffice to justify me in every body's eyes, and in my own, for the publication of his letters and my narrative of the case. You will see by the papers, that a new letter of his to M. D., which I imagine to be Davenport, is published. This letter was probably wrote immediately on his arrival at Paris; or perhaps is an effect of his usual inconsistence: I do not much concern myself which. Thus he has had the satisfaction, during a time, of being much talked of, for his late transactions; the thing in the world he most desires: but it has been at the expense of being consigned to perpetual neglect and oblivion. My compliments to Mr. Oswald; and also to Mrs. Smith. I am," &c.[378:1]

HUME _to_ ADAM SMITH.

"_London, 17th October, 1767._

"DEAR SMITH,--I sit down to correct a mistake or two in the former account which I gave you of Rousseau. I saw Davenport a few days ago, who tells me, that the letter inserted in all the newspapers, was never addressed to him. He even doubts its being genuine; both because he knows it to be opposite to all his sentiments with regard to me, to whom he desires earnestly to be reconciled, and because it is too absurd and extravagant, and seems to be contrived rather as a banter upon him. Davenport added, that Rousseau was retired to some place in France, and had changed his name and his dress:[379:1] but wrote to him that he was the most miserable of all beings; that it was impossible for him to stay where he was; and that he would return to his old hermitage, if Davenport would accept of him. Indeed, he has some reason to be mortified with his reception in France; for Horace Walpole, who has very lately returned thence, tells me, that though Rousseau is settled at Cliché, within a league of Paris, nobody inquires after him, nobody visits him, nobody talks of him, every one has agreed to neglect and disregard him: a more sudden revolution of fortune than almost ever happened to any man--at least to any man of letters.

"I asked Mr. Davenport about those Memoirs, which Rousseau said he was writing, and whether he had ever seen them. He said, yes, he had; it was projected to be a work in twelve volumes; but he had as yet gone no farther than the first volume, which he had entirely composed at Wooton. It was charmingly wrote, and concluded with a very particular and interesting account of his first love, the object of which was a person whose first love it also was. Davenport, who is no bad judge, says, that these Memoirs will be the most taking of all his works; and, indeed, you may easily imagine what such a pen would make of such a subject as that I mentioned. Meanwhile it appears clearly, what I told you before, that he is no more mad at present, than he has been during the whole course of his life, and that he is capable of the same efforts of genius. I think I may wait in security his account of the transactions between us. But, however, this incident, which I foresaw, is some justification of me for publishing his letters, and may apologise for a step, which you, and even myself, have been inclined sometimes to blame, and always to regret."[380:1]

So ended Rousseau's wild sojourn, in what he termed "l'heureuse terre, où sont nés David Hume et le Maréchal d'Ecosse." When the wounds inflicted on his benefactor by ungrateful actions and uncharitable interpretations had been healed by time, and the conduct of him who had occasioned them was seen no longer through the excited medium of lacerated feelings, the hour had come for the just understanding to aid the kind heart, in estimating the character of the assailant; for finding that, deep as were the wounds he might inflict on others, there was an arrow still more deeply buried in his own bosom; that commiseration should take the place of resentment; and that the wanderer's footsteps should be accompanied by the prayer, that peace might revisit his disturbed spirit. Hume felt, perhaps, what he could not have expressed so well as one whose mind had too much in common with that which he describes,

His life was one long war with self-sought foes;
Or friends by him self-banished; for his mind
Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose,
For its own cruel sacrifice, the kind,
'Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind.
But he was frenzied,--wherefore, who may know?
Since cause might be which skill could never find;
But he was frenzied by disease or woe,
To that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning show.

Hume was not a man given to the clamorous expression of contritions or regrets. It is in his silence and his subsequent acts that we find him desirous to compensate for the punishment he had inflicted on his assailant. The letters of his French friends, during the summer of 1767, show that he had earnestly exerted himself to protect Rousseau from the vengeance of the government;[381:1] and there is all reason to believe, that it was through this intervention that the wanderer was permitted to pursue his course in peace. On the other hand, when the dark cloud had completely passed away, the monomaniac appears to have awakened to a distressing consciousness of what he had done. He afterwards attributed his conduct in England to our foggy atmosphere, which had filled his mind with gloom and discontent; and the work at which he laboured busily with the fierce excitement of him who forges a weapon to avenge his wrongs, stopped short at the very point where his narrative of injuries was to commence.

FOOTNOTES:

[319:1] It might be expected, from the nature of Mr. Davenport's letters, that his descendants should be in possession of letters, either by Hume or Rousseau bearing on this curious passage of literary history. I believe I am committing no breach of private confidence in saying, that this family, to whom I am indebted for many polite attentions, lost all such documents, along with other valuable papers. They were destroyed by an attorney,--who at the same time put an end to his own life.

[320:1] This letter was written in French; and the person to whom it was addressed is not known. It was published in a miscellany, of which a translation (from which the above extract is made) appeared in 1799, as "Original Letters of J. J. Rousseau, Butta Fuoco, and David Hume."

[320:2] Private Correspondence, p. 153.

[320:3] Exposé Succinct.

[320:4] See above, p. 304. One of Rousseau's favourite amusements was, drawing a vehement picture of his misfortunes and his poverty; and after having thus laid a sort of trap, catching some benevolent person in the act of secretly attempting to aid him. Many of his letters are like those of a petty dealer, who is afraid of being imposed on, and must see that all the consignments are exact, as per invoice and account. The matter of the return chaise already alluded to, slightly tinges the good humour of the former of these letters. In the other, there are some remonstrances about a model of a bust of himself, which he will not take from the artist unless it is to be paid for. The same letter contains the following passage, which the editors of the "Exposé Succinct" did not think it necessary to print. It illustrates Rousseau's occasional attention to small matters.

"Je vous suis obligé d'avoir bien voulu solder le mémoire de M. Stuart. J'y trouve deux articles qui ne sont pas de ma connoissance. L'un de £1 14 pour du café, et l'autre de 5 sh. pour un moulin. Il est vrai que M. Stuart avoit bien voulu se charger de ces commissions, mais je ne les ai point recues ni avec mon bagage ni autrement, et n'en ai aucun avis que par son mémoire."

[321:1] Though it has been repeated in so many other places, it seems necessary, for the distinctness of the narrative, here to print this famous letter.

"Mon cher Jean Jacques,

"Vous avez renoncé à Genève, votre patrie. Vous vous êtes fait
chasser de la Suisse, pays tant vanté dans vos écrits; la
France vous a décrété; venez donc chez moi. J'admire vos
talens; je m'amuse de vos rêveries qui (soit dit en passant)
vous occupent trop et trop longtemps. Il faut à la fin être
sage & heureux; vous avez fait assez parler de vous, par des
singularités peu convenables à un véritable grand homme:
démontrez à vos enemis que vous pouvez avoir quelquefois le
sens commun: cela les fâchera sans vous faire tort. Mes états
vous offrent une retraite paisible: je vous veux du bien, & je
vous en ferai, si vous le trouvez bon. Mais si vous vous
obstinez à rejetter mon secours, attendez-vous que je ne le
dirai à personne. Si vous persistez à vous creuser l'esprit
pour trouver de nouveaux malheurs, choisissez-les tels que
vous voudrez; je suis roi, je puis vous en procurer au gré de
vos souhaits; et, ce qui sûrement ne vous arrivera pas
vis-à-vis de vos ennemis, je cesserai de vous persécuter,
quand vous cesserez de mettre votre gloire à l'être. Votre bon
ami,

FREDERICK."

Rousseau thought it worse than strange, that the person who wrote this letter should have been intrusted with the conveyance of a parcel to him, holding it to be clear that Walpole must necessarily be a person who could not be intrusted with his property. M. Musset Pathay, in his "Vie de Rousseau," makes a serious charge against Hume, in connexion with Walpole's conduct. Hume confessed his being present when one of the pleasantries of the letter was uttered in conversation. "Horace Walpole's letter," he says to Madame de Barbantane, "was not founded on any pleasantry of mine. The only pleasantry in that letter came from his own mouth in my company, at Lord Ossory's table, which my lord remembers very well." (_Private Correspondence_, p. 146.) On this passage, M. Musset says: "Elle prouve que l'historien Anglais s'est permis une plaisanterie contre Jean Jacques, au moment même ou, lui témoignant le plus grand intérêt, il se préparait à l'emmener en Angleterre. Ainsi, à l'époque où David donnait à Rousseau les plus grandes marques d'amitié, il contribuait d'un côté à le rendre un objet de ridicule, par un bon mot qui fit partie du persiflage d'Horace Walpole," (i. 115.) If the reader thinks he here finds a French statesman announcing the rigid doctrine of sincerity, that no man should patiently hear his friend's foibles laughed at, he will find, on examining the passage, that M. Musset has chosen to speak of Hume as the _author_ of the jest. In harmony with this view he, innocently it is to be presumed, translates the above sentence in Hume's letter thus:--"La seule plaisanterie que je me sois permise relativement à la prétendue lettre du roi de Prusse, fut faite _par moi_ à la table de Lord Ossory!"

[323:1] Private Correspondence, p. 133.

[323:2] Madame de Boufflers writes on 6th May:--

"Je ne puis croire que le violent chagrin dont parle J. J. vienne de la lettre de M. Walpole, quoique sûrement elle l'a du beaucoup affecter. Je crains bien plutôt que quelque dégoût de M{elle.} Le Vasseur ou quelques querelles entre eux n'en soit la cause; éclaircissez cela de grâce, et ôtez moi du l'inquiétude où vous m'avez prise."--MS. R.S.E.

[324:1] That Hume was, in the meantime, quite unconscious of any cause of offence against himself, is evident from his writing to Madame de Boufflers, on 16th May:

"As to the deep calamity of which he complains, it is impossible for me to imagine it. I suppose it is some trifle, aggravated by his melancholy temper and lively fancy. I shall endeavour to learn from Mr. Davenport, who is just gone to that neighbourhood. Lady Aylesbury and General Conway believe that it is Horace Walpole's letter which still torments him. That letter was put into our newspapers; which produced an answer, full of passion, and indeed of extravagance, complaining in the most tragical terms of the forgery, and lamenting that the impostor should find any abettors and partisans in England. Mr. Walpole has wrote a reply, full of vivacity and wit, but sacrifices it to his humanity, and is resolved that no copy of it shall get abroad. He assures me that he, as well as Madame du Deffand, were entirely innocent of that publication at Paris: it was a lady, a friend of yours, who gave the first copy." _Private Correspondence_, pp. 170-171.

[325:1] MS. R.S.E.

[325:2] Musset Pathay, Vie de Rousseau, vol. i. p. 116. This gentleman concludes that, within the space of twenty-four hours, Rousseau must have had reason to change from the extremity of confidence in Hume, to a full conviction of his guilt. But with all his desire to vindicate Rousseau, his account of the manner in which this conclusion had been reached, does not tend to convince one that it was well founded.

"Mais, d'après l'étude du caractère de Rousseau, d'après
l'observation qui prouve que, dans la solitude, l'imagination
s'effarouche aisément, il est plus naturel de croire que,
tout-à-coup, une multitude de circonstances s'offrirent à la
fois à la mémoire de Jean Jacques, et, quoique minutieuses en
elles mêmes, qu'elles devinrent, par leur nombre, et leur
coïncidence, importantes et graves. Il ne fallait qu'un
incident pour les rendre telles, comme une goutte suffit pour
faire déborder un vase plein d'eau."

[326:1] Printed documents of the controversy--Ritchie's Life of Hume.

[328:1] Documents of the controversy, &c.

[329:1] There is certainly one important exception to this method of viewing the matter, and that in a book otherwise of merit. One would hardly expect to meet with a work of the nineteenth century, containing a serious vindication of Rousseau, as a sane man who was in the right in this quarrel, while Hume was in the wrong. Yet some such task has been undertaken in the "Histoire de la Vie et des Ouvrages de J. J. Rousseau," by the late M. Musset Pathay, (1821,) which may be ranked among the boldest efforts of that school of biographers, whose principle is, that the hero of their tale must not be admitted to have had any vice or weakness. M. Musset's charges against Hume are much of the same mystical character with those made by Rousseau himself, and amount to this, that there was something in the whole aspect of affairs not quite satisfactory. He deals with some small matters of fact,--he is very indignant that Hume should, as he confesses, have tried to prevent Rousseau from plunging into a distant solitude; and we have already seen the effect which his zeal has had on his discrimination, in the affair of Walpole's letter. He makes one discovery, of which it would be unjust to deny him the full merit. Hume says, in his Vindication, "It is with reluctance I say it, but I am compelled to it. I now know of a certainty, that this affectation of extreme poverty and distress was a mere pretence, a petty kind of imposture, which M. Rousseau successfully employed to excite the compassion of the public: but I was then very far from suspecting any such artifice." In a letter to Madame de Boufflers, he says, "I should be glad to know how your inquiries at M. Rougemont's have turned out. It is only matter of mere curiosity: for even if the fact should prove against him, which is very improbable, I should only regard it as one weakness more, and do not make my good opinion of him to depend on a single incident." (_Private Correspondence_, p. 130.) Now Rougemont was a banker, and M. Musset infers that Hume had been making inquiries as to Rousseau's pecuniary affairs. Perhaps, when he found a man proclaiming his destitution to all Europe, and flinging back, in the faces of the givers, the assistance his importunities extracted from the compassionate, it was not a very great crime to endeavour to ascertain the truth of any rumour, that the misery was not so extreme as the sufferer painted it, and the necessity for their intervention not so great as the compassionate believed it to be. There is one letter from M. Rougemont among the MSS. R.S.E. dated 5th March, 1766. If it does not contradict, it certainly does not confirm the theory of M. Musset. It is too long and commonplace to be here inserted in full. There is not a word in it about money matters; and it appears to be written in answer to some high praise of Rousseau by Hume. The banker says:

"L'opinion que vous avez de M. Rousseau ne me laisse plus aucun doute: et c'est avec la plus grande satisfaction que je vois que mon enthusiasme ne m'a point aveuglée; les détails que vous me faites, me persuadent encore plus de la vérité d'une observation que vous avez faite un soir; c'est, qu'il n'est qu'un homme ordinaire quand son coeur ne sent rien." MS. R.S.E.