LETTER XXV.
Hume's Quarrel with Rousseau.
July 15, 1766.]
All I can say of Sir David Dalrymple is that he is now a Lord of the Session, and passes by the Name of Lord Hales or New-hales, I know not which . He is a godly Man; feareth the Lord and escheweth Evil, And works out his Salvation with Fear and Trembling . None of the Books Sir David publishes are of his writing: They are all historical Manuscripts, of little or no Consequence . I go to Woburn for three or four days.
I have got a Letter from Rousseau, which woud make a good eighteen penny Pamphlet. I fancy he intends to publish it . It is perfect Frenzy ; consequently sets my Mind quite at Ease .
Yours
D. H.
- “Salve fatis mihi debita tellus! Hic domus,
- hæc patria est .”’
No further correspondence passed between the two philosophers till the middle of the year 1765, when Hume who was at Paris was informed that Rousseau wished to seek under his protection an asylum in England. ‘I could not,’ writes Hume, ‘reject a proposal made to me under such circumstances by a man so celebrated for his genius and misfortunes . ’ He brought him over to England, and treated him with the greatest kindness. ‘I must own,’ he wrote, ‘I felt an emotion of pity mixed with indignation, to think a man of letters of such eminent merit should be reduced, in spite of the simplicity of his manner of living, to such extreme indigence; and that this unhappy state should be rendered more intolerable by sickness, by the approach of old age, and the implacable rage of persecution. I knew that many persons imputed the wretchedness of Mr. Rousseau to his excessive pride, which induced him to refuse the assistance of his friends; but I thought this fault, if it were a fault, was a very respectable one. Too many men of letters have debased their character in stooping so low as to solicit the assistance of persons of wealth or power, unworthy of affording them protection; and I conceived that a noble pride, even though carried to excess, merited some indulgence in a man of genius, who, borne up by a sense of his own superiority and a love of independence, should have braved the storms of fortune and the insults of mankind . ’
Hume was generous and even delicate in more than one scheme which he formed to help his friend. But while he was still planning, Mr. Davenport, ‘a gentleman of family, fortune, and worth,’ offered his house at Wooton in the County of Derby. That Rousseau's dignity might be saved, he consented to receive thirty pounds a year for his board and that of his housekeeper .
Through Hume's intercession, the King moreover agreed to grant him a pension on condition that it should not be made public. To this Rousseau at first willingly assented . But all the while the black clouds of suspicion were once more gathering in his mind. In the St. James's Chronicle was published a letter, as malicious as it was witty, addressed to him in the name of Frederick the Great, but really written by Horace Walpole. The Prussian King is made to offer him a shelter, and to conclude:—'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 sῦrement 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 . ’ Rousseau suspected Hume of having had a hand in its publication. He became sullen even before he left London for Wooton. In a letter dated April 3, Hume describes a curious scene with him ‘which proves,’ he says, ‘his extreme sensibility and good heart.’ Rousseau had charged him with sharing in a good-natured contrivance, by which Mr. Davenport hoped to save him part of the expense of the journey to Derbyshire. Hume in vain protested his ignorance. ‘Upon which M. Rousseau sat down in a very sullen humour, and all attempts which I could make to revive the conversation and turn it on other subjects were in vain. After near an hour, he rose up, and walked a little about the room. Judge of my surprise when, all of a sudden, he sat down upon my knee, threw his arms about my neck, kissed me with the greatest ardour, and bedewed all my face with tears! “Ah! my dear friend,” exclaimed he, “is it possible you can ever forgive my folly? This ill-humour is the return I make you for all the instances of your kindness towards me. But notwithstanding all my faults and follies, I have a heart worthy of your friendship, because it knows both to love and esteem you . ”’
Hume referring to this outburst of feeling in a letter to Rousseau says:—‘I was very much affected, I own; and, I believe, there passed a very tender scene between us. You added, by way of compliment, that though I had many better titles to recommend me to posterity, yet perhaps my uncommon attachment and friendship to a poor unhappy persecuted man would not altogether be overlooked . ’
The following day Rousseau went to Wooton, while Hume, who remained in London, went on busying himself about the pension. Rousseau had suddenly objected to its being kept secret, and had written a letter to General Conway in which he seemed to decline it altogether. To Hume's letters he returned no answers. ‘I thought,’ said the complacent philosopher, ‘that my friend, conscious of having treated me ill in this affair, was ashamed to write to me . ’ What were the feelings which up to this time he had entertained of Rousseau, is shewn in the following extracts from his correspondence.
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘Edinburgh, July 1, 1762.’ After speaking of ‘my esteem, I had almost said veneration, for the virtue and genius of M. Rousseau,’ he continues:—‘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; … I revere his greatness of mind, which makes him fly obligations and dependance; and I have the vanity to think, that through the course of my life I have endeavoured to resemble him in those maxims . ’
Hume to Elliot.
‘Edinburgh, July 5, 1762.’ Speaking of Rousseau's writings he says:—‘For my part, though I see some tincture of extravagance in all of them, I also think I see so much eloquence and force of imagination, such an energy of expression and such a boldness of conception, as entitles him to a place among the first writers of the age . ’
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘Edinburgh, Jan. 22, 1763.’ After pointing out some faults in Rousseau's Treatise of Education, he continues:—‘However it carries still the stamp of a great genius; and what enhances its beauty, the stamp of a very particular genius. The noble pride and spleen and indignation of the author bursts out with freedom in a hundred places, and serves fully to characterize the lofty spirit of the man . ’
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘London, Jan. 19, 1766. My companion is very amiable, always polite, gay often, commonly sociable. He does not know himself when he thinks he is made for entire solitude…. He has an excellent warm heart; and in conversation kindles often to a degree of heat which looks like inspiration. I love him much, and hope that I have some share in his affections . ’
Hume to the Marchioness de Barbantane.
‘Feb. 16, 1766. M. Rousseau's enemies have sometimes made you doubt of his sincerity, and you have been pleased to ask my opinion on this head. After having lived so long with him, and seen him in a variety of lights, I am now better enabled to judge; and I declare to you that I have never known a man more amiable and more virtuous than he appears to me: he is mild, gentle, modest, affectionate, disinterested; and above all, endowed with a sensibility of heart in a supreme degree. Were I to seek for his faults, I should say that they consisted in a little hasty impatience, which, as I am told, inclines him sometimes to say disobliging things to people that trouble him: he is also too delicate in the commerce of life: he is apt to entertain groundless suspicions of his best friends; and his lively imagination working upon them feigns chimeras, and pushes him to great extremes. I have seen no instances of this disposition, but I cannot otherwise account for the violent animosities which have arisen between him and several men of merit, with whom he was once intimately acquainted; and some who love him much have told me that it is difficult to live much with him and preserve his friendship; but for my part, I think I could pass all my life in his company without any danger of our quarrelling . ’
Hume to his brother John Home.
‘Lisle Street, March 22, 1766. Rousseau left me four days ago…. Surely he is one of the most singular of all human Beings, and one of the most unhappy. His extreme Sensibility of Temper is his Torment; as he is much more susceptible of Pain than Pleasure. His Aversion to Society is not Affectation as is commonly believd. When in it, he is commonly very amiable, but often very unhappy. And tho’ he be also unhappy in Solitude, he prefers that Species of suffering to the other. He is surely a very fine Genius. And of all the Writers that are or ever were in Europe, he is the Man who has acquird the most enthusiastic and most passionate Admirers. I have seen many extraordinary Scenes of this Nature . ’
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘Lisle Street, April 3, 1766. The chief circumstance which hinders me from repenting of my journey is the use I have been to poor Rousseau, the most singular, and often the most amiable man in the world…. Never was man who so well deserves happiness so little calculated by nature to attain it. The extreme sensibility of his character is one great cause; but still more the frequent and violent fits of spleen and discontent and impatience, to which, either from the constitution of his mind or body, he is so subject. He is commonly, however, the best company in the world, when he will submit to live with men…. For my part I never saw a man, and very few women, of a more agreeable commerce…. It is one of his weaknesses that he likes to complain. The truth is, he is unhappy, and he is better pleased to throw the reason on his health and circumstances and misfortunes than on his melancholy humour and disposition . ’
Hume to M.—. (A French friend.)
‘Lisle Street, ce 2 de Mai, 1766. Il a un peu la faiblesse de vouloir se rendre intéressant, en se plaignant de sa pauvreté et de sa mauvaise santé; mais j‘ai découvert par hasard qu’il a quelques ressources d’argent, petites à la vérité, mais qu’il nous a cachées, quand il nous a rendu compte de ses biens. Pour ce qui regarde sa santé, elle me paraît plutôt robuste qu’infirme, à moins que vous ne vouliez compter les accès de mélancolie et de spleen auxquels il est sujet. C‘est grand dommage: il est fort aimable par ses manières; il est d’un cœur honnête et sensible; mais ces accès l’éloignent de la société, le remplissent d’humeur, et donnent quel-quefois à sa conduite un air de bizarrerie et de violence, qualités qui ne lui sont pas naturelles . ’
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘Lisle Street, May 16, 1766. I am afraid, my dear Madam, that notwithstanding our friendship and our enthusiasm for this philosopher, he has been guilty of an extravagance the most unaccountable and most blamable that is possible to be imagined.’ After describing Rousseau's letter to General Conway, in which he declined to receive a pension unless it were made public, Hume continues:—‘Was ever anything in the world so unaccountable? For the purposes of life and conduct and society a little good sense is surely better than all this genius, and a little good humour than this extreme sensibility . ’
Not a whit discouraged by Rousseau's extravagance and sullen silence, he went on doing his best to overcome the only difficulty that remained about the pension, by getting the condition of secrecy removed . In the midst of his self-complacency, while he was, no doubt, flattering himself with the thought that he had attained the highest degree of merit which can be bestowed on any human creature, by possessing ‘the sentiment of benevolence in an eminent degree ,’ the fat good-humoured Epicurean of the North received, one day in June, a ruder shock than has perhaps ever tried a philosopher's philosophy. A letter was brought to him from Rousseau. The postage, in spite of his early training in ‘a very rigid frugality ,’ he paid no doubt with cheerfulness and even with alacrity. His friend's prolonged silence ‘he still accounted for by supposing him ashamed to write to him . ’ That feeling of shame must surely at last have given way to an outburst of gratitude, when he had learnt of the generous efforts which had been made, and successfully made, in his behalf. ‘Je vous connais, Monsieur,’ wrote his brother philosopher, ‘et vous ne l’ignorez pas … Touché de votre générosité, je me jette entre vos bras; vous m’amenez en Angleterre, en apparence pour m’y procurer un asyle, et en effet pour m’y déshonorer. Vous vous appliquez à cette noble œuvre avec un zèle digne de votre cœur, et avec un art digne de vos talens. Il n’en fallait pas tant pour réussir; vous vivez dans le grand monde, et moi dans la retraite; le public aime à être trompé et vous êtes fait pour le tromper. Je connais pourtant un homme que vous ne tromperez pas, c‘est vous-même . ’
Hume, startled from his pleasing dreams, replied in a letter of manly indignation. ‘You say that I myself know that I have been false to you; but I say it loudly, and will say it to the whole world, that I know the contrary, that I know my friendship towards you has been unbounded and uninterrupted, and that though instances of it have been very generally remarked both in France and England, the smallest part of it only has as yet come to the knowledge of the public. I demand that you will produce me the man who will assert the contrary; and above all, I demand that he will mention any one particular in which I have been wanting to you. You owe this to me; you owe it to yourself; you owe it to truth and honour and justice, and to everything that can be deemed sacred among men . ’ Rousseau took three weeks to rejoin, and then sent Hume his justification in an ‘enormous letter . ’ He thus describes ‘the very tender scene’ that had passed between them . ‘Après le souper, gardant tous deux le silence au coin de son feu, je m’aperçois qu’il me fixe, comme il lui arrivait souvent, et d’une manière dont l’idée est difficile à rendre. Pour cette fois, son regard sec, ardent, moqueur, et prolongé devint plus qu’inquiétant. Pour m’en dé-barrasser, j‘essayai de le fixer à mon tour; mais en arrêtant mes yeux sur les siens, je sens un frémissement inexplicable, et bientôt je suis forcé de les baisser. La physionomie et le ton du bon David sont d’un bon homme, mais où, grand Dieu! ce bon homme emprunte-t-il les yeux dont il fixe ses amis? l’impression de ce regard me reste et m’agite; mon trouble augmente jusqu’au saisissement: si l’épanchement n’eῦt succédé, j‘étouffais. Bientôt un violent remords me gagne; je m’indigne de moi-mème; enfin dans un transport que je me rappelle encore avec délices, je m’élance à son cou, je le serre étroitement; suffoqué de sanglots, inondé de larmes, je m’écrie d’une voix entrecoupée: Non, non, David Hume n’est pas un traître; s‘il n’était le meilleur des hommes, il faudrait qu’il en fῦt le plus noir. David Hume me rend poliment mes embrassemens, et tout en me frappant de petits coups sur le dos, me répète plusieurs fois d’un ton tranquille: Quoi, mon cher Monsieur! Eh, mon cher Monsieur! Quoi donc, mon cher Monsieur! Il ne me dit rien de plus; je sens que mon cœur se resserre; nous allons nous coucher, et je pars le lendemain pour la province . ’
Hume, in that he had brought him to England, had been, Rousseau says, in some sort his protector and his patron. How he treated this patron, when once he had seen through his malicious tricks, he next shews. In this part of his narrative he closes each paragraph with words which Marmontel justly describes as ‘Cette tournure de raillerie qui est le sublime de l’insolence . ’
‘Premier soufflet sur la joue de mon patron. Il n’en sent rien.’
‘Second soufflet sur la joue de mon patron. Il n’en sent rien.’
‘Troisième soufflet sur la joue de mon patron, et pour celui-là, s‘il ne le sent pas, c‘est assurément sa faute; il n’en sent rien . ’
Voltaire in Les honnêtetés littéraires, published in 1767, thus ridicules this passage:—‘Ah! Jean-Jacques! trois soufflets pour une pension! c‘est trop!
- “Tudieu, l’ami, sans nous rien dire,
- Comme vous baillez des soufflets.”’
- “Salve fatis mihi debita tellus! Hic domus,
- hæc patria est .”’
No further correspondence passed between the two philosophers till the middle of the year 1765, when Hume who was at Paris was informed that Rousseau wished to seek under his protection an asylum in England. ‘I could not,’ writes Hume, ‘reject a proposal made to me under such circumstances by a man so celebrated for his genius and misfortunes . ’ He brought him over to England, and treated him with the greatest kindness. ‘I must own,’ he wrote, ‘I felt an emotion of pity mixed with indignation, to think a man of letters of such eminent merit should be reduced, in spite of the simplicity of his manner of living, to such extreme indigence; and that this unhappy state should be rendered more intolerable by sickness, by the approach of old age, and the implacable rage of persecution. I knew that many persons imputed the wretchedness of Mr. Rousseau to his excessive pride, which induced him to refuse the assistance of his friends; but I thought this fault, if it were a fault, was a very respectable one. Too many men of letters have debased their character in stooping so low as to solicit the assistance of persons of wealth or power, unworthy of affording them protection; and I conceived that a noble pride, even though carried to excess, merited some indulgence in a man of genius, who, borne up by a sense of his own superiority and a love of independence, should have braved the storms of fortune and the insults of mankind . ’
Hume was generous and even delicate in more than one scheme which he formed to help his friend. But while he was still planning, Mr. Davenport, ‘a gentleman of family, fortune, and worth,’ offered his house at Wooton in the County of Derby. That Rousseau's dignity might be saved, he consented to receive thirty pounds a year for his board and that of his housekeeper .
Through Hume's intercession, the King moreover agreed to grant him a pension on condition that it should not be made public. To this Rousseau at first willingly assented . But all the while the black clouds of suspicion were once more gathering in his mind. In the St. James's Chronicle was published a letter, as malicious as it was witty, addressed to him in the name of Frederick the Great, but really written by Horace Walpole. The Prussian King is made to offer him a shelter, and to conclude:—'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 sῦrement 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 . ’ Rousseau suspected Hume of having had a hand in its publication. He became sullen even before he left London for Wooton. In a letter dated April 3, Hume describes a curious scene with him ‘which proves,’ he says, ‘his extreme sensibility and good heart.’ Rousseau had charged him with sharing in a good-natured contrivance, by which Mr. Davenport hoped to save him part of the expense of the journey to Derbyshire. Hume in vain protested his ignorance. ‘Upon which M. Rousseau sat down in a very sullen humour, and all attempts which I could make to revive the conversation and turn it on other subjects were in vain. After near an hour, he rose up, and walked a little about the room. Judge of my surprise when, all of a sudden, he sat down upon my knee, threw his arms about my neck, kissed me with the greatest ardour, and bedewed all my face with tears! “Ah! my dear friend,” exclaimed he, “is it possible you can ever forgive my folly? This ill-humour is the return I make you for all the instances of your kindness towards me. But notwithstanding all my faults and follies, I have a heart worthy of your friendship, because it knows both to love and esteem you . ”’
Hume referring to this outburst of feeling in a letter to Rousseau says:—‘I was very much affected, I own; and, I believe, there passed a very tender scene between us. You added, by way of compliment, that though I had many better titles to recommend me to posterity, yet perhaps my uncommon attachment and friendship to a poor unhappy persecuted man would not altogether be overlooked . ’
The following day Rousseau went to Wooton, while Hume, who remained in London, went on busying himself about the pension. Rousseau had suddenly objected to its being kept secret, and had written a letter to General Conway in which he seemed to decline it altogether. To Hume's letters he returned no answers. ‘I thought,’ said the complacent philosopher, ‘that my friend, conscious of having treated me ill in this affair, was ashamed to write to me . ’ What were the feelings which up to this time he had entertained of Rousseau, is shewn in the following extracts from his correspondence.
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘Edinburgh, July 1, 1762.’ After speaking of ‘my esteem, I had almost said veneration, for the virtue and genius of M. Rousseau,’ he continues:—‘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; … I revere his greatness of mind, which makes him fly obligations and dependance; and I have the vanity to think, that through the course of my life I have endeavoured to resemble him in those maxims . ’
Hume to Elliot.
‘Edinburgh, July 5, 1762.’ Speaking of Rousseau's writings he says:—‘For my part, though I see some tincture of extravagance in all of them, I also think I see so much eloquence and force of imagination, such an energy of expression and such a boldness of conception, as entitles him to a place among the first writers of the age . ’
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘Edinburgh, Jan. 22, 1763.’ After pointing out some faults in Rousseau's Treatise of Education, he continues:—‘However it carries still the stamp of a great genius; and what enhances its beauty, the stamp of a very particular genius. The noble pride and spleen and indignation of the author bursts out with freedom in a hundred places, and serves fully to characterize the lofty spirit of the man . ’
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘London, Jan. 19, 1766. My companion is very amiable, always polite, gay often, commonly sociable. He does not know himself when he thinks he is made for entire solitude…. He has an excellent warm heart; and in conversation kindles often to a degree of heat which looks like inspiration. I love him much, and hope that I have some share in his affections . ’
Hume to the Marchioness de Barbantane.
‘Feb. 16, 1766. M. Rousseau's enemies have sometimes made you doubt of his sincerity, and you have been pleased to ask my opinion on this head. After having lived so long with him, and seen him in a variety of lights, I am now better enabled to judge; and I declare to you that I have never known a man more amiable and more virtuous than he appears to me: he is mild, gentle, modest, affectionate, disinterested; and above all, endowed with a sensibility of heart in a supreme degree. Were I to seek for his faults, I should say that they consisted in a little hasty impatience, which, as I am told, inclines him sometimes to say disobliging things to people that trouble him: he is also too delicate in the commerce of life: he is apt to entertain groundless suspicions of his best friends; and his lively imagination working upon them feigns chimeras, and pushes him to great extremes. I have seen no instances of this disposition, but I cannot otherwise account for the violent animosities which have arisen between him and several men of merit, with whom he was once intimately acquainted; and some who love him much have told me that it is difficult to live much with him and preserve his friendship; but for my part, I think I could pass all my life in his company without any danger of our quarrelling . ’
Hume to his brother John Home.
‘Lisle Street, March 22, 1766. Rousseau left me four days ago…. Surely he is one of the most singular of all human Beings, and one of the most unhappy. His extreme Sensibility of Temper is his Torment; as he is much more susceptible of Pain than Pleasure. His Aversion to Society is not Affectation as is commonly believd. When in it, he is commonly very amiable, but often very unhappy. And tho’ he be also unhappy in Solitude, he prefers that Species of suffering to the other. He is surely a very fine Genius. And of all the Writers that are or ever were in Europe, he is the Man who has acquird the most enthusiastic and most passionate Admirers. I have seen many extraordinary Scenes of this Nature . ’
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘Lisle Street, April 3, 1766. The chief circumstance which hinders me from repenting of my journey is the use I have been to poor Rousseau, the most singular, and often the most amiable man in the world…. Never was man who so well deserves happiness so little calculated by nature to attain it. The extreme sensibility of his character is one great cause; but still more the frequent and violent fits of spleen and discontent and impatience, to which, either from the constitution of his mind or body, he is so subject. He is commonly, however, the best company in the world, when he will submit to live with men…. For my part I never saw a man, and very few women, of a more agreeable commerce…. It is one of his weaknesses that he likes to complain. The truth is, he is unhappy, and he is better pleased to throw the reason on his health and circumstances and misfortunes than on his melancholy humour and disposition . ’
Hume to M.—. (A French friend.)
‘Lisle Street, ce 2 de Mai, 1766. Il a un peu la faiblesse de vouloir se rendre intéressant, en se plaignant de sa pauvreté et de sa mauvaise santé; mais j‘ai découvert par hasard qu’il a quelques ressources d’argent, petites à la vérité, mais qu’il nous a cachées, quand il nous a rendu compte de ses biens. Pour ce qui regarde sa santé, elle me paraît plutôt robuste qu’infirme, à moins que vous ne vouliez compter les accès de mélancolie et de spleen auxquels il est sujet. C‘est grand dommage: il est fort aimable par ses manières; il est d’un cœur honnête et sensible; mais ces accès l’éloignent de la société, le remplissent d’humeur, et donnent quel-quefois à sa conduite un air de bizarrerie et de violence, qualités qui ne lui sont pas naturelles . ’
Hume to the Countess de Boufflers.
‘Lisle Street, May 16, 1766. I am afraid, my dear Madam, that notwithstanding our friendship and our enthusiasm for this philosopher, he has been guilty of an extravagance the most unaccountable and most blamable that is possible to be imagined.’ After describing Rousseau's letter to General Conway, in which he declined to receive a pension unless it were made public, Hume continues:—‘Was ever anything in the world so unaccountable? For the purposes of life and conduct and society a little good sense is surely better than all this genius, and a little good humour than this extreme sensibility . ’
Not a whit discouraged by Rousseau's extravagance and sullen silence, he went on doing his best to overcome the only difficulty that remained about the pension, by getting the condition of secrecy removed . In the midst of his self-complacency, while he was, no doubt, flattering himself with the thought that he had attained the highest degree of merit which can be bestowed on any human creature, by possessing ‘the sentiment of benevolence in an eminent degree ,’ the fat good-humoured Epicurean of the North received, one day in June, a ruder shock than has perhaps ever tried a philosopher's philosophy. A letter was brought to him from Rousseau. The postage, in spite of his early training in ‘a very rigid frugality ,’ he paid no doubt with cheerfulness and even with alacrity. His friend's prolonged silence ‘he still accounted for by supposing him ashamed to write to him . ’ That feeling of shame must surely at last have given way to an outburst of gratitude, when he had learnt of the generous efforts which had been made, and successfully made, in his behalf. ‘Je vous connais, Monsieur,’ wrote his brother philosopher, ‘et vous ne l’ignorez pas … Touché de votre générosité, je me jette entre vos bras; vous m’amenez en Angleterre, en apparence pour m’y procurer un asyle, et en effet pour m’y déshonorer. Vous vous appliquez à cette noble œuvre avec un zèle digne de votre cœur, et avec un art digne de vos talens. Il n’en fallait pas tant pour réussir; vous vivez dans le grand monde, et moi dans la retraite; le public aime à être trompé et vous êtes fait pour le tromper. Je connais pourtant un homme que vous ne tromperez pas, c‘est vous-même . ’
Hume, startled from his pleasing dreams, replied in a letter of manly indignation. ‘You say that I myself know that I have been false to you; but I say it loudly, and will say it to the whole world, that I know the contrary, that I know my friendship towards you has been unbounded and uninterrupted, and that though instances of it have been very generally remarked both in France and England, the smallest part of it only has as yet come to the knowledge of the public. I demand that you will produce me the man who will assert the contrary; and above all, I demand that he will mention any one particular in which I have been wanting to you. You owe this to me; you owe it to yourself; you owe it to truth and honour and justice, and to everything that can be deemed sacred among men . ’ Rousseau took three weeks to rejoin, and then sent Hume his justification in an ‘enormous letter . ’ He thus describes ‘the very tender scene’ that had passed between them . ‘Après le souper, gardant tous deux le silence au coin de son feu, je m’aperçois qu’il me fixe, comme il lui arrivait souvent, et d’une manière dont l’idée est difficile à rendre. Pour cette fois, son regard sec, ardent, moqueur, et prolongé devint plus qu’inquiétant. Pour m’en dé-barrasser, j‘essayai de le fixer à mon tour; mais en arrêtant mes yeux sur les siens, je sens un frémissement inexplicable, et bientôt je suis forcé de les baisser. La physionomie et le ton du bon David sont d’un bon homme, mais où, grand Dieu! ce bon homme emprunte-t-il les yeux dont il fixe ses amis? l’impression de ce regard me reste et m’agite; mon trouble augmente jusqu’au saisissement: si l’épanchement n’eῦt succédé, j‘étouffais. Bientôt un violent remords me gagne; je m’indigne de moi-mème; enfin dans un transport que je me rappelle encore avec délices, je m’élance à son cou, je le serre étroitement; suffoqué de sanglots, inondé de larmes, je m’écrie d’une voix entrecoupée: Non, non, David Hume n’est pas un traître; s‘il n’était le meilleur des hommes, il faudrait qu’il en fῦt le plus noir. David Hume me rend poliment mes embrassemens, et tout en me frappant de petits coups sur le dos, me répète plusieurs fois d’un ton tranquille: Quoi, mon cher Monsieur! Eh, mon cher Monsieur! Quoi donc, mon cher Monsieur! Il ne me dit rien de plus; je sens que mon cœur se resserre; nous allons nous coucher, et je pars le lendemain pour la province . ’
Hume, in that he had brought him to England, had been, Rousseau says, in some sort his protector and his patron. How he treated this patron, when once he had seen through his malicious tricks, he next shews. In this part of his narrative he closes each paragraph with words which Marmontel justly describes as ‘Cette tournure de raillerie qui est le sublime de l’insolence . ’
‘Premier soufflet sur la joue de mon patron. Il n’en sent rien.’
‘Second soufflet sur la joue de mon patron. Il n’en sent rien.’
‘Troisième soufflet sur la joue de mon patron, et pour celui-là, s‘il ne le sent pas, c‘est assurément sa faute; il n’en sent rien . ’
Voltaire in Les honnêtetés littéraires, published in 1767, thus ridicules this passage:—‘Ah! Jean-Jacques! trois soufflets pour une pension! c‘est trop!
- “Tudieu, l’ami, sans nous rien dire,
- Comme vous baillez des soufflets.”’
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