"I have been very busy ever since I came down; and if I keep my health, shall be able to publish the winter after the next, or at farthest in the subsequent spring; which I fancy will serve your purpose well enough. At any rate, this is not a matter which I can hurry on faster than I am able to satisfy myself in the execution.
"I am very much pleased with what you tell me, that the Clarendon Papers have fallen into Dr. Douglas's hands, especially as Dr. Robertson tells me he intends to publish them. What my sentiments are on the question you mention, you may learn from my letter to the Doctor, which I have sent you open, and which I beg you to take the trouble of sending; for I do not know how to direct it."
Hume wished to amuse himself with mystifying his friends about the pamphlet above alluded to, called Sister Peg. The circumstance which suggested to him the following letter, is said to have been his being kept in ignorance that his friend Ferguson was the author of the piece.
Hume to Dr. Carlyle.
"Edinburgh, 3d February, 1761.
"Dear Sir,—I am informed that you have received a letter from London, by which you learn that the manuscript of Sister Peg has been traced to the printer's, and has been found to be, in many places, interlined and corrected in my handwriting. I could have wished that you had not published this piece of intelligence before you told me of it. The truth is, after I had composed that trifling performance, and thought I had made it as correct as I could, I gave it to a sure hand to be transcribed, that in case any of the London printers had known my hand, they might not be able to discover me. But as it lay by me some weeks afterwards, I could not forbear reviewing it; and not having my amanuensis at hand, I was obliged in several places to correct it myself, rather than allow it to go to the press with inaccuracies of which I was sensible. I little dreamed that this small want of precaution would have betrayed me so soon; but as you know that I am very indifferent about princes or presidents, ministers of the gospel or ministers of state, kings or keysars, and set at defiance all powers, human or infernal, I had no other reason for concealing myself, but in order to try the taste of the public; whom, though I also set in some degree at defiance, I cannot sometimes forbear paying a little regard to. I find that frivolous composition has been better received than I had any reason to expect, and therefore cannot much complain of the injury you have done me by revealing my secret, and obliging me to acknowledge it more early than I intended. The only reason of my writing to you is, to know the printer's name, who has so far broke his engagements as to show the manuscript; for the bookseller assured my friend to whom I intrusted it, that we might depend upon an absolute secrecy. I beg my compliments to Mrs. Carlyle, and am, dear sir," &c.[89:1]
We see by the date of the following letter, that Hume varied his city life with an occasional residence with his brother in Berwickshire.
Hume to Adam Smith.
"Ninewells, 29th June, 1761.
"Dear Smith,—As your professorship of Hebrew is vacant, I have been applied to in behalf of young Mr. Cummin; and you are the person with whom I am supposed to have some interest. But as I imagine you will not put this election on the footing of interest, I shall say nothing on that head; but shall speak much more to the purpose by informing you, that I have known Mr. Cummin for some time, and have esteemed him a young man of exceeding good capacity, and of a turn towards literature. He tells me that he has made the oriental tongues, and particularly the Hebrew, a part of his study, and has made some proficiency in them. But of this fact, craving his pardon, I must be allowed to entertain some doubt; for if Hebrew roots, as Cowley says, thrive best in barren soil,[90:1] he has a small chance of producing any great crop of them. But as you commonly regard the professorship of Hebrew as a step towards other professorships, in which a good capacity can better display itself, you will permit me to give it as my opinion, that you will find it difficult to pitch on a young man, who is more likely to be a credit to your college, by his knowledge and industry.
"I am so far on my road to London, where I hope to see you this season. I shall lodge in Miss Elliot's, Lisle Street, Leicester Fields; and I beg it of you to let me hear from you the moment of your arrival."[90:2]
In 1761, commenced Hume's acquaintance with Madame de Boufflers. It afterwards ripened into a friendship, of which we cannot fully estimate the nature, without looking not only at the character and position of the parties, but at some conventional notions of morality, to which Hume had been, previously, a stranger. Hyppolyte de Saujon, Comtesse de Boufflers-Rouvel, is not to be confounded with her contemporary the Marquise de Boufflers-Rémencourt, mother of the witty Chevalier de Boufflers. The prominent difference between them is but too startlingly characteristic of the moral atmosphere in which they both lived—that the former was mistress of the Prince of Conti, while the latter is supposed to have held the same relation to Prince Stanislaus Augustus of Poland, of whose court she was the great ornament and attraction. A friendship between a respectable Scotsman of letters and a person in Madame de Boufflers' position, is apt to excite a smile or a frown, according to the habits or temper of the reader. Hume himself was not likely to take the most austere view of the matter; and must have felt, at any rate, that the scandal and even the blame of such connexions must be greatly affected by the countenance they receive from the society to which the parties belong. On the vileness of this code of organized immorality, it would be superfluous, at this hour, to enlarge; but there is a great difference between those who act up to the standard of a low social system and those who do the same acts in breach of a higher code. A Mahomedan who keeps a harem in Constantinople is inferior in his tone of morality to an English gentleman, of good domestic conduct; but he is infinitely superior to an Englishman with a harem in Piccadilly.
The lady in question undoubtedly held a very high station in the best society of Paris; and at that time, and in that country, it is certain that such attachments, if permanent and decorous, and in a very high class of society, acquired a more than tolerated respectability. In 1769, Madame de Boufflers speaks of her attachment as one of twenty years' duration. Early in life, and soon after her marriage, she had been placed at the court of the Duchess of Orleans: but quarrelling with that princess, she came under the protection of the Prince of Conti. Of course, her correspondence bears no mark of her having been subjected to slights, or of her dreading them; or indeed of any suspicion that there was any thing in her position to prevent her from being rigid in her ideas of virtue, and a teacher of social duties. On her visit to England, she was well received by the British aristocracy, and was even honoured by a laudatory growl from Johnson. We find her exchanging visits with the Marchioness of Hertford, the wife of the English ambassador, one of the purest of that portion of the English female aristocracy which had not suffered taint. In one of her letters to Hume, she describes the death-bed of the prince's mother; speaks of her displaying the heroism of a grand-daughter of the great Condé; and talks with tearful gratitude of the early kindness of that princess to herself, and of her attempts to pay the debt by solacing her old age, and performing to her the last duties which the living receive from each other. It is in all its spirit the letter of a daughter-in-law.
The prince, though a generous and kind-hearted man, could not be prevailed on to make her his wife on her husband's death; but when he died in 1776, he had raised no princess over her head. We shall find that she made Hume the confidant in her griefs and disappointments, and the adviser in her difficulties. There is a great air of earnestness and solicitude in these appeals; and though we cannot help presuming, that a woman so full in her disclosures to a foreigner, living among a people of totally different habits and morals, must have distributed a still larger portion of her confidential revelations nearer home; yet it is evident that she had much reliance on Hume's counsel, and perhaps he was not ill fitted for a father-confessor to such a penitent.
The letters of Hume to the countess, have already been for some time before the English reader.[92:1] On the present occasion some characteristic extracts will be interwoven with the letters which form the other side of the correspondence. It is difficult for a native of this country, with the fullest allowance for the redundancy of the French laudatory and amicable vocabulary, to estimate at its true value the ardour of these letters, or to adjust the amount of solid truth and friendliness represented by such a blaze of ardent expressions. The correspondence was of the lady's seeking and pursuing. Frequently, when there is a pause, an impassioned letter from her rouses up the philosopher; who starts into a sort of artificial excitement, and, when it is over, sinks into lethargy again. Yet it must be admitted that Hume acted his part pretty well, and that the fat philosopher was not far behind the vivacious Frenchwoman. But with him it is visibly all acting; and there is a total absence of the playful ease which adorns those letters to his own chosen friends, with whom he was in heart and habits at ease. In some instances, perhaps, he studied a formal and measured style, as being more intelligible to a foreigner; and occasionally we find him offering his correspondent facilities by the adoption of idioms more French than English; as where he says, "I am truly ashamed, dear madam, of your having prevented me in breaking our long silence; but you have prevented me only a few days."[93:1]
The letter with which the countess opens the correspondence, seems to have been forwarded to Hume by Lord Elibank's brother, Alexander Murray, who was then mixing with the Jacobites abroad, and who appears to have enjoyed a very wide and much varied circle of acquaintance in France. He says, in a letter of the 18th May, 1761:—
"My Dear Sir,—It would appear great presumption in me to make you any compliments upon your History of England, after having read the enclosed; which with infinite pleasure I send you, as it procures you a correspondence with the most amiable and accomplished lady of this kingdom, or indeed any other. If after the peace you take a trip to this polite and elegant country, you are sure, by the means of your new female correspondent, of being made acquainted in a very short time with all the wits in this part of the world. It is true your most incomparable productions justly entitle you to that distinction. However, being took by the hand by Madame de Boufflers, won't diminish your intrinsic value, even among the most profound philosophers. In case I can't return to England, and you take the resolution of coming here . . . . . . I beg leave to assure you that I am, with as much esteem and veneration as human creature can be, my dear sir, your most obedient and most humble servant, and avowed friend,
"When you answer the enclosed, I beg it may be in English, as the lady is quite mistress of that language."[94:1]
The letter forwarded to Hume was as follows:
Madame De Boufflers to Hume.
(Translation.)
For a long time, sir, I have struggled with conflicting sentiments. The admiration which your sublime work has awakened in me, and the esteem with which it has inspired me for your person, your talents, and your virtue, have often aroused the desire of writing to you, that I might express those sentiments towards you with which I am so deeply penetrated.
On the other hand, keeping in view the little value you can have for my opinion, your want of personal acquaintance with me, and the reserve and privacy, even, which are suitable to my sex, I fear being accused of presumption, and of making myself be known, to my own disadvantage, by a man whose good opinion I shall always regard as the most flattering, and the most precious of benefits. Nevertheless, although the reflections I have made on this subject appeared to have much force, an irresistible inclination rendered them unavailing; and I come to add one to the thousand other instances, to justify the truth of that remark which I have read in your "History of the House of Stuart,"—"Men's views of things are the result of their understanding alone: their conduct is regulated by their understanding, their temper, and their passions." Thus, when my reason tells me I ought to be silent, my enthusiasm prevents me from regarding its voice.
Although a woman, and of no very advanced age, despite the dissipation attendant on the life one leads in this country, having always loved reading, there are few good books in any language, or of any kind, that I have not read, either in the original, or in translations; and I can assure you, sir, with a sincerity which cannot be questioned, that I have found none which, to my judgment, unites so many perfections as your own. I know no terms capable of expressing what I felt in reading this work. I was moved, transported: and the emotion which it caused me is, in some measure, painful by its continuance. It elevates the soul; it fills the heart with sentiments of humanity and benevolence; it enlightens the intellect, by showing that true happiness is closely connected with virtue; and discovers, by the same light, what is the end, and the sole end, of every reasonable being. In the midst of the calamities which, on all sides, surrounded Charles the First, we see peace and security shining in their brightness, and accompanying him to the scaffold; whilst trouble and remorse, the inseparable companions of crime, follow the steps of Cromwell, even to the throne.
Your book also teaches how the best of things are liable to abuse; and the reflections which are made on this subject ought to augment our caution and distrust of ourselves. It animates with a noble emulation; it inspires love of liberty; and teaches, at the same time, submission to the government under which we are obliged to live. In a word, it is a terra fecunda of morals and instruction, presented in colours so bright, that we believe we see them for the first time.
The clearness, the majesty, the touching simplicity of your style delight me. Its beauties are so striking, that, notwithstanding my ignorance of the English language, they cannot escape me. You are, sir, an admirable painter: your pictures have a grace, a nature, an energy, which surpass even what the imagination can portray.
But how shall I be able to express the effect produced upon me by your divine impartiality? I would that I had, on this occasion, your own eloquence in which to express my thought! In truth, I believed I had before my eyes the work of some celestial being, free from the passions of humanity, who, for the benefit of the human race, has deigned to write the events of these latter times.
I dare only add, that in all which issues from your pen, you show yourself a perfect philosopher, a statesman, a historian full of genius, an enlightened politician, a genuine patriot. All these sublime qualities are so far above the understanding of a woman, that it is fitting I should say little on the subject; and I have already great need of your indulgence for the faults I have committed against discretion and decorum, by the excess of my veneration for your merit. I entreat this of you, sir, and, at the same time, the greatest secrecy. The step I have taken is rather extraordinary. I fear it may attract blame: and I would be grieved if the sentiment which has constrained me to it should be misunderstood.
I have the honour to be, sir, your very humble and very obedient servant,
They tell me, sir, you have some idea of coming to France—to Paris. I earnestly wish you would execute this resolution, and that I may be able to assist in rendering your sojourn agreeable.
Paris, 15th March, 1761.[97:1]
Hume must have been the more than mortal being which his new friend describes, if he had resisted such an appeal; and he thus wrote in answer:—
Hume to the Comtesse de Boufflers.
Edinburgh, 15th May, 1761.
Madam,—It is not easy for your ladyship to imagine the pleasure I received from the letter, with which you have so unexpectedly honoured me, nor the agreeable visions of vanity, in which, upon that occasion, I indulged myself. I concluded, and, as I fancied, with certainty, that a person, who could write so well herself, must certainly be a good judge of writing in others; and that an author, who could please a lady of your distinction, educated in the court of France, and familiarized with every thing elegant and polite, might reasonably pretend to some degree of merit, and might presume to take his rank above the middling historians. But, madam, it is but fair, that I, who have pretended, in so long a work, to do justice to all parties and persons, should also do some to myself; and should not feed my vanity with chimeras, which, I am sensible, in my cooler moments, can have no foundation in reason. When I had the pleasure of passing some time in France, I had the agreeable experience of the polite hospitality, by which your nation is distinguished; and I now find, that the same favourable indulgence has appeared in your ladyship's judgment of my writings. And, perhaps, your esteem for the entire impartiality which I aim at, and which, to tell the truth, is so unusual in English historians, has made your ladyship overlook many defects, into which the want of art or genius has betrayed me.
In this particular, madam, I must own, that I am inclined to take your civilities in their full latitude, and to hope that I have not fallen much short of my intentions. The spirit of faction, which prevails in this country, and which is a natural attendant on civil liberty, carries every thing to extremes on the one side, as well as on the other; and I have the satisfaction to find, that my performance has alternately given displeasure to both parties. I could not reasonably hope to please both: such success is impossible from the nature of things; and next to your ladyship's approbation, who, as a foreigner, must necessarily be a candid judge, I shall always regard the anger of both as the surest warrant of my impartiality.
As I find that you are pleased to employ your leisure hours in the perusal of history, I shall presume to recommend to your ladyship a late work of this kind, wrote by my friend and countryman, Dr. Robertson, which has met with the highest approbation from all good judges.
It is the "History of Scotland" during the age of the unfortunate Queen Mary; and it is wrote in an elegant, agreeable, and interesting manner, and far exceeding, I shall venture to say, any performance of that kind that has appeared in English. The failings of that princess are not covered over; but her singular catastrophe is rendered truly lamentable and tragical; and the reader cannot forbear shedding tears for her fate, at the same time that he blames her conduct. There are few historical productions, where both the subject and execution have appeared so happy.
Some prospect is now given us, that this miserable war between the two nations is drawing towards a period, and that the former intercourse between them will again be renewed. If this happy event take place, I have entertained hopes that my affairs will permit me to take a journey to Paris; and the obliging offer, which you are pleased to make me, of allowing me to pay my respects to you, will prove a new and very powerful inducement to make me hasten the execution of my purpose.
But I give your ladyship warning, that I shall, on many accounts, stand in need of your indulgence. I passed a few years in France during my early youth; but I lived in a provincial town, where I enjoyed the advantages of leisure for study, and an opportunity of learning the language: what I had imperfectly learned, long disuse, I am afraid, has made me forget. I have rusted amid books and study; have been little engaged in the active, and not much in the pleasurable scenes of life; and am more accustomed to a select society than to general companies.
But all these disadvantages, and much greater, will be abundantly compensated by the honour of your ladyship's protection; and I hope that my profound sense of your obliging favours will render me not altogether unworthy of it.
I have the honour to be, with the greatest respect, madam, your ladyship's most obedient and most humble servant.[101:1]
In return, Madame De Boufflers reiterates her compliments, vouches for her sincerity, and if Hume should fulfil his intention of visiting France, offers him the use of apartments, saying, that if he accept the offer it will be an infinite obligation to her; if he refuse it, she will be vexed but not offended. She will introduce him to her circle of friends, and do every thing that can tend to make his visit agreeable.[101:2] In answer to this, Hume finds that the warlike aspect of affairs will preclude him, in the meantime, from enjoying the society "of a person so celebrated for her accomplishments by all who have any knowledge of the court of France."[101:3]
Mr. Murray's praise of Madame de Boufflers' knowledge of the English language was not misapplied; as the following short letter, and another of greater length, which will be found a few pages farther on, show. With a few inaccuracies, they afford a very remarkable instance of idiomatic acquaintance with our tongue.
"I have received, sir, by an unknown hand, the continuation of your admirable performance. Some little perhaps of the pride so common in my sex, but much more the desire to contract an obligation with a man of your merit, and to obtain from him so valuable a favour, have persuaded me I was indebted to you for it. 'Tis natural to bend our thoughts towards what is most advantageous for us, however elevated it may be. The wrong should be only to believe we deserve it. Then, sir, I think, that in wishing such a proof of your kindness, and confessing in the same time I have no right to pretend to it, I prove my just opinion of both. I am, sir, your humble servant.
"Paris, May 29, 1762."
On this, Hume, after observing with ingenious courtesy, that a fairy, a sylph, or a good genius, who knew his inmost thoughts, must have anticipated him in sending the copy of his History, continues:—"But, madam, what new wonder is this which your letter presents to me? I not only find a lady, who, in the bloom of beauty and height of reputation, can withdraw herself from the pleasures of a gay court, and find leisure to cultivate the sciences; but deigns to support a correspondence with a man of letters in a remote country, and to reward his labours by a suffrage the most agreeable of all others, to a man who has any spark of generous sentiments or taste for true glory. Besides these unusual circumstances, I find a lady, who, without any other advantages than her own talents, has made herself mistress of a language commonly esteemed very difficult to strangers, and possesses it to such a degree as might give jealousy to us who have made it the business of our lives to acquire and cultivate it.
"I cannot but congratulate my country on this incident, which marks the progress made by its literature and reputation in foreign countries."
Nearly contemporary with the Comtesse de Boufflers, comes on the scene a person with whom we shall hereafter have much concern, Jean Jacques Rousseau. He had been living under the protection of the Maréchal de Luxembourg, in the celebrated hermitage near the castle of Montmorency, when he published his "Emile." Highly as he was supported, the wrath of the clergy prevailed; and a writ of prise de corps was issued for his apprehension. It appears that in those strange times of intolerance and infidelity, there would have been no cause of wonder, if the proceedings had ended in a capital conviction. With the aid of his friends, the Luxembourgs and Choiseuls, Rousseau fled the kingdom. On this occasion he seems to have been thoroughly frightened; and his conduct was occasioned neither by ostentation, nor perverse discontent. His first place of refuge was Neufchâtel, one of the Swiss Cantons, of which the sovereignty was in the house of Brandenburg. Rousseau was thus for a time one of the illustrious literary men under the protection of Frederick the Great, though distant from his philosophical capital.
He appealed, however, to a warmer heart than ever beat in the breast of the conqueror of Prague. The exiled Earl Marischal of Scotland—a valued friend of Hume, as of all who became acquainted with him—was then Governor of Neufchâtel. Subsequently to his flight from his native country, for his concern in the rebellion of 1715, when he was a mere youth, he had suffered a long series of hardships, privations, and uncertainties; until Frederick saw his value, and purchased his services at such a rate as a friendless exile might not refuse. Adversity, which too often hardens the selfishness, and debases the propensities of an aristocracy driven from home by internal convulsions, had but taught him how much men are dependent on each other, and had opened his heart to a wider sympathy with his fellow creatures. His opinions were as tolerant as his nature was kind; and the fugitive could not have sought an asylum where he would be more sincerely welcomed. The power of the king of Prussia's representative, was, however, not sufficient to protect him from the people,—or from himself; and from the time of his flight from France, those who believed that he sincerely desired a retreat where he would be safe from all molestation, looked towards Britain. The following letters from the forfeited earl, at a few months' interval from each other, chiefly relate to Rousseau. The earl appears to have been so thoroughly imbued with foreign habits, that he wrote English with difficulty: most of his letters to Hume are in French, and when he commences in English, he generally relapses into French. Though so long employed by the Prussian court, he seems to have been ignorant of German. It may be observed, however, that French is the vernacular language of Neufchâtel.
The forfeited Earl Marischal to Hume.
April 29.
In answer to your question, the Donquixotisme you mention never entered into my head. I wish I could see you, to answer honestly all your questions; for though I had my share of folly with others, yet as my intentions were at bottom honest, I should open to you my whole budget, and let you know many things which are perhaps ill-represented, I mean not truly. I remember to have recommended to your acquaintance Mr. Floyd, son to old David Floyd, at St. Germains, as a man of good sense, honour, and honesty. I fear he is dead: he would have been of great service to you in a part of your History since 1688. Apropos of History, when you see Helvetius, tell I desired you to inquire of him concerning a certain History. I fancy he will answer you with his usual frankness. I do believe Mr. Rousseau will find it impossible to live where he finds nobody who understands a word of what he says; there occurs so often occasion, even of trifling things necessary, that it is a vexation not to understand the language of the country. I feel it often, though I understand many words of German, such as kleigh, nigh, nogh, ter migh, ter Teyfel,[105:1] and others, high sounding as here pronounced, and of which the Ter Tunder would, I believe, put to flight the delicate ears of the whole town of Sienna.
I hear you are going to France this summer. If you will come to Frankfort on Main, I will meet you there the end of July, and stay with you a fortnight. Bon jour.
N.B.—You have better roads than I, you are strong as a giant, and I am growing ten years older every month; so I think my offer fair.
Oct. 2, 1762.
Jean Jacques Rousseau, persecuted for having writ what he thinks good, or rather, as some folks think, for having displeased persons in great power, who attributed to him what he never meant, came here to seek retreat, which I readily granted; and the king of Prussia not only approved of my so doing, but gave me orders to furnish him his small necessaries, if he would accept them; and though that king's philosophy be very different from that of Jean Jacques, yet he does not think that a man of an irreproachable life is to be persecuted because his sentiments are singular. He designs to build him a hermitage with a little garden, which I find he will not accept, nor perhaps the rest which I have not yet offered to him. He is gay in company, polite, and what the French call aimable, and gains ground daily in the opinion of even the clergy here. His enemies elsewhere continue to persecute him: he is pestered with anonymous letters. This is not a country for him: his attachment and love to his native town is a strong tie to its neighbourhood. The liberty of England, and the character of my good and honoured friend, D. Hume, F——i D——r, (perhaps more singular than that of J. Jacques, for I take him to be the only historian impartial,) draws his inclinations to be near to the F——i D——r. For my part, though it be to me a very great pleasure to converse with the honest savage, yet I advise him to go to England, where he will enjoy
He wishes to know, if he can print all his works, and make some profit, merely to live, from such an edition. I entreat you will let me know your thoughts on this, and if you can be of use to him in finding him a bookseller to undertake the work: you know he is not interested, and little will content him. If he goes to Britain, he will be a treasure to you, and you to him, and perhaps both to me (if I were not so old.) I have offered him lodging in Keith-hall. I am ever, with the greatest regard, your most obedient servant,
At the same time Madame de Boufflers wrote as follows:—
Madame de Boufflers to Hume.
(Translation.)
Paris, 16th June, 1762.
Jean Jacques Rousseau, citizen of Geneva, and the author of many works with which you are probably acquainted, has composed a Treatise on Education, in four volumes, in which he sets forth many principles contrary to ours, both in politics and religion. As we do not enjoy here the liberty of the press, the Parliament, by a decree, just, (if it is, as I doubt not, conformable to the laws of the kingdom,) but nevertheless rigorous, has decreed the prise de corps; and it is said that, if he had not taken to flight, he would have been condemned to death. I can scarcely think they could have proceeded so far against him as a stranger; but, be that as it may, it would have been imprudent in him to remain in France under such circumstances. He has therefore departed, uncertain what asylum he will choose. I have advised him to go to England, promising him letters of recommendation to you, and other friends. I fulfil my promise, and I cannot, in my opinion, choose for him, in all Europe, a protector more respectable by his position, and more to be commended for his humanity. M. Rousseau is known to the greater part of the people in this country for an eccentric man. This epithet, according to its true signification, is most justly applied to him; for he differs, in many respects, in his modes of acting and thinking, from the men of his day. He has an upright heart, a noble and disinterested soul. He dreads every species of dependence, and consequently would have preferred being in France, gaining his subsistence by copying music, to receiving benefits even from his best friends, who are anxious to make up for his misfortunes. This delicacy may appear excessive, but it is not criminal, and it even augurs elevated sentiments. He flies from intercourse with the world; he feels pleasure only in solitude. This partiality for retirement has made him enemies. The self-love of those who court him is wounded by his rebuffs; but notwithstanding such apparent misanthropy, I do not believe you will find any where, a man more gentle, more humane, more compassionate to the sorrows of others, and more patient under his own. In short, his virtue appears so pure, so contented, so equal, that, until now, those who hated him could find only in their own heart reasons for suspecting him. As for me, with appearances so much in his favour, I would rather be deceived than doubt his sincerity.
From the opinion that I have of him, sir, he has been judged worthy of being known to you; and in procuring him this honour, I believe I give the most marked proof of my consideration for him.[107:1]
To this Hume made answer in the postscript of the letter cited above.
"P.S.—So far I had wrote in answer to your ladyship's of the 29th of May, when I was again honoured with yours of the 14th of June. Good God! madam, how much I regret my being absent from London on this occasion, which deprives me of the opportunity of showing in person my regard for your recommendation, and my esteem, I had almost said veneration, for the virtue and genius of M. Rousseau. I assure your ladyship there is no man in Europe of whom I have entertained a higher idea, and whom I would be prouder to serve; and as I find his reputation very high in England, I hope every one will endeavour to make him sensible of it by civilities, and by services, as far as he will accept of them. I revere his greatness of mind, which makes him fly obligations and dependence; and I have the vanity to think, that through the course of my life I have endeavoured to resemble him in those maxims.
"But as I have some connexions with men of rank in London, I shall instantly write to them, and endeavour to make them sensible of the honour M. Rousseau has done us in choosing an asylum in England. We are happy at present in a king who has a taste for literature; and I hope M. Rousseau will find the advantage of it, and that he will not disdain to receive benefits from a great monarch, who is sensible of his merit. I am only afraid that your friend will find his abode in England not so agreeable as may be wished, if he does not possess the language, which I am afraid is the case: for I never could observe in his writings any marks of his acquaintance with the English tongue."[109:1]
From these communications, Hume derived the notion that Rousseau had immediately proceeded to London. The following paragraph, in a letter from Elliot, indicates the nature of the inquiries pursued under this supposition.
Dear Sir,—As soon as I received your letter, I applied to Mr. Home, who had also heard from you by the same post, and desired him to make all possible inquiry after M. Rousseau. If he be in London we shall certainly find him out; and I need not assure you, that both on account of his own merit, and your recommendation, I shall not fail to show him all the attention in my power. I should doubt, from the known character of the man, whether he would accept a pension if it could be procured for him; and should rather apprehend that, though this government will protect and tolerate the boldness of his pen, yet it will hardly reward it. Rousseau is not the only man of genius, the singularity of whose opinions has intercepted the rewards due to the superiority of his talents.
In the supposition that he had passed over to England, Hume addressed a letter to Rousseau, as then in London, which was answered by the Chien de Diogène, as Voltaire called him, from his retreat in Neufchâtel, on 19th February, 1763. He says he has just received the letter, regrets that he should have made the mistake of trusting himself among his own countrymen, who have treated him with insult and outrage, instead of seeking the hospitable shores of Britain. He does something like justice to the kindness of Lord Marischal, in the midst of his general mordacity and discontent; and he praises the wide views, the wonderful impartiality, the genius of Hume, which would raise him so far above the rest of his kind, did not the goodness of his heart bring him nearer to their level.[110:1]
The following letter from Madame de Boufflers, written in English, had been received in the meantime.
Madame de Boufflers to Hume.
July 30.
How difficult it is, sir, for one very far from being insensible to reputation, to refuse the praises of a man, whose sincerity and admirable talents render them so valuable. But in regard to veracity, and perhaps more to my true interest, I am obliged to acknowledge, I stand a great distance, for internal or external accomplishments, from the favourable opinion you have taken of me, whether, in consulting the noble sentiments which ever inspire you with sublime ideas, whether in hearkening to some of your countrymen, disposed to indulgence towards me, by my well-known inclination for their country.
Perhaps, sir, I confess it with ingenuity, had I been doomed to be never personally acquainted with you, I should not have generosity enough to correct your judgment of me. But in this particular occasion, as in all other, according to my humble opinion, right and good are closely united. What a shame indeed for me, and disappointment for you, in place of the object your imagination has adorned with such shining qualifications, to find a person to whom Nature has granted but indifferent ones. A great part of my youth is over. Some delicacy in features, mildness and decency in countenance, are the only exterior advantages I can boast of; and as for interior, common sense, improved a little by early good reading, are all I possess. My knowledge of the English language also is confined, as you can easily perceive. I have, indeed, acquired without assistance that which I know of it; but if I am entitled to some elegancy, I owe it to the repeated readings of your admirable works.
After this true picture of myself, in which I have struggled to exert the noble impartiality and candour which shine in all your writings, my first care is, sir, to acknowledge the infinite obligations you have conferred upon me by your kind letter. I have translated the P. S. to send it to my friend. The esteem of such a man must be the best balm for his wounded heart. But I am afraid he will not accept the glorious support you are so good as to offer him. I fear that the weight of his calamities has impaired his health, and he cannot sustain the fatigues of a long journey. In his last letter to me, he expresses a resolution never to see England upon that account. Nevertheless, I am informed since, that new persecutions may possibly determine him to alter his mind. An irregular trial has deprived him of the natural rights in his own country. The commonwealth of Berne, from the example of Geneva and France, has burnt his book, and he has been reduced to leave in a hurry the asylum that a friend had proffered him there. Such are the grievous misfortunes of this virtuous and unhappy man. I pity, I love him, and wish earnestly to sooth the sorrows under which he labours. Nevertheless, sir, I would fain also vindicate the honour of my nation in the eyes of so good a judge as you are. The reflection you cast upon it gives uneasiness; but mistrusting greatly my capacity, I fear to betray the cause I would defend by an enterprise so unequal to my force. I dare only to say, that your happy country has not attained in a moment the perfect constitution which gives us admiration. All convenient and well-calculated laws are not framed at once; and those most exceptionable, while they stand, deserve obedience and respect.
Is it possible, sir, that this late unhappy event could deprive of the honour of your presence, a country filled with your fervent admirers, and where every one will endeavour to outdo each other in expressing the veneration and regard you so justly deserve? I hope you will not keep this severe resolution. If we want a liberty you think an advantage, 'tis a reason to pity, and not to punish us. Besides, your case and that of M. Rousseau, though both foreigners in France, are quite different. Few days before I received your letter, I heard that it was a friend of mine who has favoured me with your last performance. I am infinitely obliged to him for this gracious gift, and to you, sir, for your good intention.
But what strange a creature will you think me, to venture to point a mistake in a work so perfect? In several parts of the first volume our countryman Godefroy of Bouillon is named Godefroy de Boulogne. You have reasons, perhaps, for the alteration, and I am ready to submit to them. I would only express my doubts: I hope you will excuse this freedom.
Since I have gone so far, permit me, sir, to ask your opinion upon the last book of M. Rousseau. I should be very glad to have my judgment of it confirmed or mended by yours. Nothing would be wanting to my satisfaction, if in the same letter, where you could grant me the favour I wish for, I was assured you had renewed the project to come here, and that you would speedily execute it. I am, sir, with esteem, gratitude, and, permit me to add, friendship, your most humble servant.
In answer to this letter, Hume says that he had at first regarded it as a sort of challenge to answer it in French, but that he had given up the attempt as an unequal contest with "the sole instance of a foreigner, not habituated to our tongue, who has, from reading alone, become so entirely mistress of it." He then gives an account of the letter he had received from Lord Marischal, and says of Rousseau's refusal of the kindnesses proferred to him,—"Rousseau, with his usual dignity, refused all these gratuities, though at the same time he desired my lord to learn from me, whether it were possible for him to gain from the London booksellers as much money as would suffice for his maintenance; and this recompense, being the fruit of his own industry, he would have no scruple to accept of. I think this instance of conduct a kind of phenomenon in the republic of letters, and one very honourable for M. Rousseau. One is only apt to wish that he could practise this virtue with less hardship and difficulty; though we must also confess, that the difficulty adds to the lustre of it. I have heard, that the circumstance which deterred him from coming over to England, as he first intended, was a harsh reflection, which he threw out on the people in his 'Treatise of Education:' if this was his motive, I am persuaded that he would find it a vain fear, and that every one would rather have been anxious to show respect to his merit."[113:1]