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tended to be deceived as well with regard to the cause of my discontent, as to that of my declining the pension; and in a letter he wrote me on the occasion, gave me to understand that the king's goodness might be continued towards me, if I would re-consider the affair of the pension. In a word, he seemed determined, at all events, to remain still my patron, in spite of my teeth. You will imagine, sir, he did not expect my answer; and he had none.

"Much about this time, for I do not exactly know the date, nor is such precision necessary, appeared a letter from M. de Voltaire to me, with an English translation, which still improved on the original. The noble object of this ingenious performance was to draw on me the contempt and hatred of the people among whom I was come to reside. I made not the least doubt that my dear patron was one of the instruments of its publication; particularly when I saw that the writer, in endeavouring to alienate from me those who might render my life agreeable, had omitted the name of him who brought me over. He doubtless knew that it was superfluous, and that with regard to him, nothing more was necessary to be said. The omission of his name so impoliticly in this letter, recalled to my mind, what Tacitus says of the picture of Brutus, omitted in a funeral solemnity, viz. that every body took notice of the circumstance, merely because the picture was not there.

"Mr. Hume then is not mentioned, but he lives and converses with people that were mentioned. It is well known, that his friends are all my enemies,-the Fronchins, d'Alemberts, and Voltaires: but it is much worse in London, for here I have no enemies but what are his friends. For why, indeed, should I have any other? Why should I have even these? What have I done to lord Littleton, whom I don't even know? What have I done to Mr. Walpole, of whom I know as little? What do they know of me, except that I am unfortunate, and the friend of their friend Hume? What can he have said to them, for it is only through him they know me? I can very well imagine that, considering the part he has to play, he does not unmask himself to every body; for then he would be disguised to nobody. I can very well imagine that he does not speak of me to general Conway, or the duke of Richmond, as he does in his private conversations with Mr. Walpole, and his secret correspondence with M. d'Alembert; but let any one observe the clue which has been unravelled at London since my arrival, and it will easily be seen whether Mr. Hume does not hold the principal thread.

"At length the moment arrived when it was thought proper to strike the great blow; the effect of which was prepared by a new satirical piece, published in the newspapers. Had there remained in me the least doubt, it would have been impossible to have harboured it after perusing this piece, as it contained facts unknown to any body but Mr. Hume, though exaggerated, it is true, in order to render them odious to the public.

"It was said in this paper that my door was open to the rich and shut to the poor. Where is the man who knows when my door was open or shut, except Mr. Hume, with whom I lived, and by whom

every body was introduced that I saw? I will except one great per sonage, whom I gladly received without knowing him, and whom I should still have more gladly received if I had known him. It was Mr. Hume who told me his name, when he was gone; on which information I was really chagrined, that, as he deigned to mount up two pair of stairs, he was not received in the first floor.

"As to the poor I have nothing to say. I was constantly desirous of seeing less company; buf, unwilling to displease any one, I suf fered myself to be directed by Mr. Hume, and received every body he introduced, without distinction, whether rich or poor.

"It is said in the same piece, that I received my relations very coldly, not to say any thing worse. This general charge relates to my having once received with some indifference the only relation I have out of Geneva, and that in the presence of Mr. Hume. It must necessarily be either Mr. Hume, or this relation, who furnished that piece of intelligence. Now, my cousin, whom I have always known for a friendly relative, and a worthy man, is incapable of furnishing materials for public satires against me. Besides, his situation in life confining him to the conversation of persons in trade, he has no connexion with men of letters, or paragraph-writers, and still less with satirists; so that the article could not come from him. At the worst, can I help thinking that Mr. Hume must have endeavoured to take advantage of what he said; and that he construed it in a way the most favourable to his own purpose? It is not improper to add, that after my rupture with Mr. Hume, I wrote an account of it to my cousin.

"In fine, it is said in the same paper, that I am apt to change my friends. No great subtilty is necessary to comprehend what this reflection was preparative to.

"But let us inquire into facts. I have preserved some very valuable and solid friends for twenty-five or thirty years. I have others whose friendship is of a later date, but no less firm and if I live, I may preserve them still longer. I have not found, indeed, the same security in general among those friendships I have made with men of letters. I have for this reason sometimes changed them, and shall always change them when they appear suspicious; for I am determined never to have friends by way of ceremony; I wish to have them only with a view to show them my affection.

"If ever I was fully and clearly convinced of any thing, I am convinced that Mr. Hume furnished the materials for the above paper. What is still more, I have not only this absolute conviction, but it is very clear to me that Mr. Hume intended I should: for how could it be supposed that a man of his subtilty would expose himself thus, if he had wished to conceal himself? What was his design in it? Nothing is more clear. It was to raise my resentment to the highest pitch, that he might, with greater eclat, strike the blow he was preparing to give me. He knew. that, to make me commit a number of absurdities, he had nothing more to do than to put me in a passion. We are now arrived at the critical moment, which is to show whether he reasoned well or ill.

"It is necessary to have all the presence of mind, all the phlegm and resolution of Mr. Hume, to be able to take the part he took, after all that had passed between us. In the embarrassment I was under, in writing to general Conway, I could make use only of obscure expressions; to which Mr. Hume, in quality of my friend, gave what interpretation he pleased. Pretending therefore, that he knew very well to the contrary, that it was the circumstance of secrecy which gave me uneasiness, he obtained the promise of the general to endea vour to remove it; and then this stoical and truly unfeeling man wrote to me the most friendly letter, in which he informed me that he was exerting his endeavours to remove this cause; but that before any thing could be done, it was necessary to know whether I would accept without that condition, in order to expose his majesty to a -second refusal.

"This was the decisive moment, the end and object of all his labours. An answer was required: he would have it. To prevent effectually my neglect of it, he sent to Mr. Davenport a duplicate of his letter; and not content with that precaution, wrote me word, in another billet, that he could not possibly stay any longer in London to serve me. I was giddy with amazement, on reading this note. Never in my life did I meet with any thing so unaccountable.

"At length he obtained from me the so much desired answer, and began presently to triumph. Already, in writing to Mr. Davenport, he had treated me as a brutal man, and a monster of ingratitude. But he wanted to do still more. He thinks his measures well taken, and no proofs can be made to appear against him. He demands an explanation: he shall have it, and here it is.

"That last stroke was a master-piece. He himself proves every thing, and that beyond reply.

"I will suppose, though by way of impossibility, that my complaints against Mr. Hume never reached his ears; that he knew nothing of them; but was as perfectly ignorant of them, as if he had no cabal with those who are acquainted with them,-as completely as if he had resided all the while in China. Yet our behaviour to each other; the last striking words which I said to him in London; the letter which followed replete with fears and anxiety; my persevering silence, more expressive than words; my public and bitter complaints with regard to the letter of M. d'Alembert; my letter to the minister, who did not write to me, in answer to that which Mr. Hume wrote to me himself, and in which I did not mention him; and in fine my refusal, without deigning to address myself to him, to acquiesce in an affair which he had managed in my favour, with my own privity, and without any opposition on my part; all this must have spoken in a very forcible manner, I will not say to any person of the least sensibility, but to every man of common sense.

"Strange, that after I had broken off all correspondence with him for three months; after I had made no answer to any of his letters, however important the subject of it, surrounded as I was by both public and private marks of that affliction which his infidelity occasioned, this man, of so penetrating a genius when he pleases, and

yet so dull as if by nature, should see nothing, feel nothing, be moved at nothing; but without one word of complaint, justification, or explanation, should continue to give the most striking marks of his good will to serve me, in spite of myself! He wrote to me affectionately, that he could not stay any longer in London to do me service; as if we had agreed that he should stay there for that purpose! This blindness, this insensibility, this obstinacy, are not in nature; they must be accounted for from other motives. Let us set his behaviour in a still clearer light; for this is the decisive point.

"Mr. Hume must necessarily have acted in this affair, either as one of the first or last of mankind. There is no medium. It remains to determine which of the two it is.

"Could Mr. Hume, after so many instances of disdain on my part, have still the astonishing generosity to persevere sincerely in serving me? He knew it was impossible for me to accept his good offices, while I entertained for him such sentiments as I had conceived. He had himself avoided an explanation. So that to serve me without justifying himself, would have been to render his services useless; this, therefore, was no generosity.

"If he supposed that in such circumstances I should have accepted his services, he must have believed me to have been a villain. It was then in behalf of a man whom he supposed to be a scoundrel, that he so warmly solicited a pension from his majesty. Can any thing be imagined more extravagant?

"But, suppose that Mr. Hume, constantly pursuing his plan, should only have said to himself, This is the moment for its execution: for, by pressing Rousseau to accept the pension, he will be reduced either to accept or refuse it. If he accepts it, I shall, with the proofs I have in hand against him, be able completely to disgrace him: if he refuses after having accepted it, he will have no pretext, but must give a reason for such refusal. This is what I expect: if he accuses me, he is ruined.

"If, I say, Mr. Hume reasoned with himself in this manner, he did what was consistent with his plan, and in that case very natural. Indeed, this is the only way in which his conduct in the affair can be explained, for upon any other supposition, it is inexplicable: if this be not demonstrable, nothing ever was.

"The critical situation in which he had now reduced me, recalled strongly to my mind the four words which I mentioned above, and which I heard him say and repeat, at a time when I did not comprehend their full force. It was the first night after our departure from Paris. We slept in the same chamber, when, during the night, I heard him several times cry out with great vehemence, in the French language, I have you, Rousseau. I know not whether he was awake or asleep.

"The expression was remarkable in the mouth of a man, who is too well acquainted with the French language to be mistaken with regard to the force or choice of words. I took these words, however, and I could not then take them otherwise than in a favourable sense, although the tone of voice indicated this less than the expression. It

was indeed a tone of which it is impossible for me to give any idea; but it corresponded exactly with those terrible looks I have before mentioned. At every repetition of these words I was seized with a shuddering and horror I could not resist; though a moment's recollection restored me, and made me smile at my terror. The next day, all this was so perfectly obliterated, that I did not even once * think of it during my stay in London and its neighbourhood. It was not till my arrival in this place, that so many things have contributed to recal these words to my mind; and indeed recal them every

moment.

"These words, the tone of which dwells on my heart, as if I had but just heard them; the long and fatal looks so frequently cast on me the patting me on the back, with the repetition of my dear sir, in answer to my suspicions of his being a traitor: all this affects me to such a degree, after what preceded, that the recollection, had I no other cause, would be sufficient to prevent all return of confidence: not a night indeed passes but I think I hear, I have you, Rousseau, ring in my years, as if he had just pronouced them.

"Yes, Mr. Hume, I know you have me; but that only by mere externals: you have me in the public opinion and judgment of mankind. You have my reputation, and perhaps my security. The general prepossession is in your favour; it will be very easy for you to make me pass for the monster you have begun to represent me; and I already see the barbarous exultation of my implacable enemies. The public will no longer spare me, and without any further inquiry; every body is on the side of those who have conferred favours, because each is desirous to attract the same good offices, by displaying a sensibility of the obligation. I foresee readily the consequences of all this, particularly in the country to which you have conducted me; and where, being without friends and a stranger to every body, I lie almost entirely at your mercy. The sensible part of mankind, however, will comprehend that I must have been so far from seeking this affair, that nothing more terrible could possibly have happened to me in my present situation. They will perceive that nothing but my invincible aversion to all kind of falsehood, and the impossibility of my professing a regard for a person who had forfeited it, could have prevented dissimulation on my part, at a time when my interests made it, on so many accounts, a law. But the sensible part of man kind are few in number, nor do they make a noise in the world.

"Yes, Mr. Hume, you have me, by all the ties of this life; but you have no power over my probity or my fortitude, which being independent either of you or of mankind, I will preserve in spite of you. Think not to frighten me with the fortune that awaits me. I know the opinions of mankind. I am accustomsd to their injustice, and have learned to care little about it. If you have taken your resolu tion, as I have reason to believe you have, be assured mine is also taken. I am feeble indeed in body, but my strength of mind was never greater. Mankind may say and do what they please. It is of little consequence to me; but it is of consequence to me, that I should end as I have begun; that I should maintain my rectitude and

VOL. VIIK

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