Letter 320 To Sir David Dalrymple.(976) Strawberry Hill, Nov. 5, 1766. (page 494)

Sir, On my return from Bath, I found your very kind and agreeable present of the papers in King Charles's time;(977) for which and all your other obliging favours I give you a thousand thanks.

I was particularly pleased with your just and sensible preface against the squeamish or bigoted persons who would bury in oblivion the faults and follies of princes, and who thence contribute to their guilt; for if princes, who living are above control, should think that no censure is to attend them when dead, it would be new encouragement to them to play the fool and act the tyrant. When they are so kind as to specify their crimes under their own hands, it would be foppish delicacy indeed to suppress them. I hope you will proceed, Sir, and with the same impartiality. It was justice due to Charles to publish the extravagancies of his enemies too. The comparison can never be fairly made, but when we see the evidence on both sides. I have done so in the trifles I have published, and have as much offended some by what I have said of the Presbyterians at the beginning of my third volume of the Painters, as I had others by condemnation of King Charles in my n.o.ble Authors. In the second volume of my Anecdotes I praised him where he deserved praise; for truth is my sole object, and it is some proof, when one offends both. I am, Sir, your most obliged and obedient servant.

(976) Now first collected. In the March of this year, Sir David Dalrymple was made a judge of the Court of session, when he a.s.sumed the name of lord Hailes, by which he is best known.-E.

(977) "The Memorials and Letters relating to the History of Britain in the Reigns of James the First and Charles the First, published from the originals in the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh," had just appeared, in two volumes, octavo.-E.

Letter 321 To David Hume, Esq.

Nov. 6, 1766. (page 494)

Dear sir, You have, I own, surprised me by suffering your quarrel with Rousseau to be printed, contrary to your determination when you left London, and against the advice of all your best friends here; I may add, contrary to your own nature, which has always inclined you to despise literary squabbles, the jest and scorn of all men of sense. Indeed, I am sorry you have let yourself be over-persuaded, and so are all that I have seen who wish you well: I ought rather to use your own word extorted. You say your Parisian friends extorted your consent to this publication. I believe so. Your good sense would not approve what your good heart could not refuse. You add, that they told you Rousseau had sent letters of defiance against you all over Europe? Good G.o.d!

my dear Sir, could you pay any regard to such fustian? All Europe laughs at being dragged every day into these idle quarrels, with which Europe only ***. Your friends talk as loftily as of a challenge between Charles the Fifth and Francis the First. What are become of all the controversies since the days of Scaliger and Scioppius, of Billingsgate memory? Why, they sleep in oblivion, till some Bayle drags them out of their dust, and takes mighty pains to ascertain the date of each author's death, which is of no more consequence to the world than the day of his birth. Many a country squire quarrels with his neighbour about game and manors; yet they never print their wrangles, though as much abuse pa.s.ses between them as if they could quote all the philippics of the learned. You have acted, as i should have expected if you would print, with sense, temper, and decency, and, what is still more uncommon, with your usual modesty. I cannot say so much for your editors. But editors and commentators are seldom modest. Even to this day that race ape the dictatorial tone Of the commentators at the restoration of learning, when the mob thought that Greek and Latin could give men the sense which they wanted in their native languages. But Europe is now grown a little wiser, and holds these magnificent pretensions in proper contempt.

What I have said is to explain why I am sorry my letter makes a part of this controversy. When I sent it to you, it was for your justification; and, had it been necessary, I could have added as much more, having been witness to your anxious and boundless friendship for Rousseau. I told you, you might make what use of it you pleased. Indeed, at that time I did not-could not think of its being printed, you seeming so averse to any publication on that head. However, I by no means take it ill, nor regret my part, if it tends to vindicate your honour.

I must confess that I am more concerned that you have suffered my letter to be curtailed; nor should I have consented to that if you had asked me. I guessed that your friends consulted your interest less than their own inclination to expose Rousseau; and I think their omission of what I said on that subject proves I was not mistaken in my guess. My letters hinted, too, my contempt of learned men and their miserable conduct. Since I was to appear in print, I should not have been sorry that that opinion should have appeared at the same time. In truth, there is nothing I hold so cheap as the generality of learned men; and I have often thought that young men ought to be made scholars, lest they should grow to reverence learned blockheads, and think there is any merit in having read more foolish books than other folks; which, as there are a thousand nonsensical books for one good one, must be the case of any man who has read much more than other people.

Your friend D'Alembert, who, I suppose, has read a vast deal, is, it seems, offended with my letter to Rousseau.(978) He is certainly as much at liberty to blame it, as I was to write it.

Unfortunately he does not convince me; nor can I think but that if Rousseau may attack all governments and all religions, I might attack him: especially on his affectation and affected misfortunes; which you and your editors have proved are affected.

D'Alembert might be offended at Rousseau's ascribing my letter to him; and he is in the right. I am a very indifferent author; and there is nothing so vexatious to an indifferent author as to be confounded with another of the same cla.s.s. I should be sorry to have his eloges and translations of sc.r.a.ps of Tacitus laid to me.

However, I can forgive him any thing, provided he never translates me. Adieu! my dear Sir. I am apt to laugh, you know, and therefore you will excuse me, though I do not treat your friends up to the pomp of their claims. They may treat me as freely: I shall not laugh the less, and I promise you I will never enter into a controversy with them. Yours ever.

(978) For writing the pretended letter from the King of Prussia to Rousseau, Walpole was severely censured by Warburton, in a letter to Hurd:--"As to Rousseau," says the Bishop, "I entirely agree with you, that his long letter to his brother philosopher, Hume, shows him to be a frank lunatic. His pa.s.sion of tears, his suspicion of his friends in the midst of their services, and his incapacity of being set right, all consign him to Monro.

Walpole's pleasantry upon him had baseness in its very conception. It was written when the poor man had determined to seek an asylum in England; and is, therefore, justly and generously condemned by D'Alembert. This considered, Hume failed both in honour and friendship not to show his dislike; which neglect seems to have kindled the first spark of combustion in this madman's brain. However, the contestation is very amusing, and I shall be very sorry if it stops, now it is in so good a train. I should be well pleased, particularly, to see so seraphic a madman attack so insufferable a c.o.xcomb as Walpole; and I think they are only fit for one another."-E.

Letter 322 To David Hume, Esq.

Arlington Street, Nov. 11, 1766. (page 496)

Indeed, dear Sir, it was not necessary to make me any apology.

D'Alembert is certainly at liberty to say what he pleases of me; and undoubtedly you cannot think that it signifies a straw to me what he says. But how can you be surprised at his printing a thing that he sent you so long ago? All my surprise consists in your suffering him to Curtail my letter to you, when you might be sure be would print his own at length. I am glad, however, that he has mangled mine: it not only shows his equity, but is the strongest proof that he was conscious I guessed right, when I supposed he urged you to publish, from his own private pique to Rousseau.

What you surmise of his censuring my letter because I am a friend of Madame du Deffand, is astonishing indeed, and not to be credited, unless you had suggested it. Having never thought him any thing like a superior genius,(979) as you term him, I concluded his vanity was hurt by Rousseau's ascribing my letter to him; but, to carry resentment to a woman, to an old and blind woman, so far as to hate a friend of hers qui ne lui avoit fait de mal is strangely weak and lamentable. I thought he was a philosopher, and that philosophers were virtuous, upright men, who loved wisdom, and were above the little pa.s.sions and foibles of humanity. I thought they a.s.sumed that proud t.i.tle as an earnest to the world, that they intended to be something more than mortal; that they engaged themselves to be patterns of excellence, and would utter no opinion, would p.r.o.nounce no decision, but what they believed the quintessence of' truth; that they always acted without prejudice and respect of persons.

Indeed, we know that the ancient philosophers were a ridiculous composition of arrogance, disputation, and contradictions; that some of them acted against all ideas of decency; that others affected to doubt of their own senses; that some, for venting unintelligible nonsense, pretended to think themselves superior to kings; that they gave themselves airs of accounting for all that we do and do not see-and yet, that no two of them agreed in a single hypothesis; that one thought fire, another water, the origin of all things; and that some were even so absurd and impious, as to displace G.o.d, and enthrone matter in his place. I do not mean to disparage such wise men, for we are really obliged to them: they antic.i.p.ated and helped us off with an exceeding deal of nonsense, through which we might possibly have pa.s.sed, if they had not prevented us. But, when in this enlightened age, as it is called, I saw the term philosophers revived, I concluded the jargon would be omitted, and that we should be blessed with only the cream of sapience; and one had more reason still to expect this from any superior genius. But, alas! my dear Sir, what a tumble is here! Your D'Alembert is a mere mortal oracle.

Who but would have laughed, if, when the buffoon Aristophanes ridiculed Socrates, Plato had condemned the former, not for making sport with a great man in distress, but because Plato hated some blind old woman with whom Aristophanes was acquainted!

D'Alembert's conduct is the More Unjust, as I never heard Madame du Deffand talk of him above three times in the seven months that I pa.s.sed at Paris; and never, though she does not love him, with any reflection to his prejudice. I remember the first time I ever heard her mention his name, I said I have been told he was a good man but could not think him a good writer. (Craufurd(980) remembers this, and it is a proof that I always thought of D'Alembert as I do now.) She took it up with warmth, defended his parts, and said he was extremely amusing. For her quarrel with him, I never troubled my head about it one way or other; which you will not wonder at. You know in England we read their works, but seldom or never take any notice of authors. We think them sufficiently paid if their books sell, and of course leave them to their colleges and obscurity, by which means we are not troubled with their variety and impertinence. In France, they spoil us; but that was no business of mine. I, who am an author must own this conduct very sensible; for in truth we are a most useless tribe.

That D'Alembert should have omitted pa.s.sages in which you was so good as to mention me with approbation, agrees with his peevishness, not with his philosophy. However, for G.o.d's sake, do not state the pa.s.sages. I do not love compliments, and will never give my consent to receive any. I have no doubt of your kind intentions to me, but beg they may rest there. I am much more diverted with the philosopher D'Alembert's underhand dealings, than I should have been pleased with panegyric even from you.

Allow me to make one more remark, and I have done with this trifling business for ever. Your moral friend p.r.o.nounces me ill-natured for laughing at an unhappy man who had never offended me. Rousseau certainly never did offend me. I believed, from many symptoms in his writings, and from what I heard of him, that his love of singularity made him choose to invite misfortunes, and that he hung out many more than he felt. I, who affect no philosophy, nor pretend to more virtue than my neighbours, thought this ridiculous in a man who is really a superior genius, and joked upon it in a few lines never certainly intended to appear in print. The sage D'Alembert reprehends this--and where?

In a book published to expose Rousseau, and which confirms by serious proofs what I had hinted at in jest. What! does a philosopher condemn me, and in the very same, breath, only with ten times more ill-nature, act exactly as I had done? Oh! but you will say, Rousseau had offended D'Alembert by ascribing the King of Prussia's letter to him. Worse and worse: if Rousseau is unhappy, a philosopher should have pardoned. Revenge is so unbecoming the rex regum, the man who is precipue sa.n.u.s--nisi c.u.m pituita molesta est. If Rousseau's misfortunes are affected, what becomes of my ill-nature? In short, my dear Sir, to conclude as D'Alembert concludes his book, I do believe in the virtue of Mr. Hume, but not much in that of philosophers. Adieu!

Yours ever.

P. S. It occurs to me, that you may be apprehensive of my being indiscreet enough to let D'Alembert learn your suspicions of him on Madame du Deffand's account! but you may be perfectly easy on that head. Though I like such an advantage over him, and should be glad he saw this letter, and knew how little formidable I think him, I shall certainly not make an ill use of a private letter, and had much rather wave my triumph, than give a friend a moment's pain. I love to laugh at an impertinent savant, but respect learning when Joined to such goodness as yours, and never confound ostentation and modesty.

I wrote to you last Thursday and, by Lady Hertford's advice, directed my letter to Nine-Wells: I hope you will receive it.

Yours ever.

(979) "I believe I said he was a man of superior parts, not a superior genius; words, if I mistake not, of a very different import." Hume.-E.

(981) John Craufurd, Esq. of Auchinames, in Scotland.-E.

Letter 323 To George Montagu, Esq.

Strawberry Hill, Dec. 12, 1766. (page 499)

Pray what are you doing?

Or reading or feeding?

Or drinking or thinking?

Or praying or playing?

Or walking or talking?

Or riding about to your neighbours?(982)

I am sure you are not writing, for I have not had a word from you this century; nay, nor you from me. In truth, we have had a busy month, and many grumbles of a state-quake; but the session has however ended very triumphantly for the great Earl. I mean, we are adjourned for the holidays for above a month, after two divisions of one hundred and sixty-six to forty-eight, and one hundred and forty to fifty-six.(983) The Earl chaffered for the Bedfords, and who so willing as they?(984) However, the bargain went off, and they are forced to return to George Grenville.

Lord Rockingham and the Cavendishes have made a jaunt to the same quarter, but could carry only eight along with them, which swelled that little minority to fifty-six. I trust and I hope it will not rise higher in haste. Your cousin, I hear, has been two hours with the Earl, but to what purpose I know not. Nugent is made Lord Clare, I think to no purpose at all.I came hither to-day for two or three days, and to empty my head. The weather is very warm and comfortable. When do you move your tents southward? I left little news in town, except politics. That pretty young woman, Lady Fortrose,(985) Lady Harrington's eldest daughter, is at the point of death, killed, like Coventry and others, by white lead, of which nothing could break her. Lord Beauchamp is going to marry the second Miss Windsor.(986) It is odd that those two ugly girls, though such great fortunes, should get the two best figures in England, him and Lord Mount-Stuart.

The Duke of York is erecting a theatre at his own palace, and is to play Lothario in the Fair Penitent himself. Apropos, have you seen that delightful paper composed out of sc.r.a.ps in the newspapers! I laughed till I cried, and literally burst out so loud, that I thought Favre, who was waiting in the next room, would conclude I was in a fit; I mean the paper that says,

"This day his Majesty will go in state to fifteen notorious,"

etc. etc.(987)

It is the newest piece of humour except the Bath Guide, that I have seen of many years. Adieu! Do let me hear from you soon.

How does brother John? Yours ever.

(982 Thus playfully imitated by Lord Byron, in December, 1816;

"What are you doing now, oh Thomas Moore?

Sighing or suing now?

Rhyming or wooing now?

Billing or cooing now?

Which, Thomas Moore?"-E.

(983) On the bill of indemnity for those concerned in the embargo on the exportation of corn.-E.

(984) The following is Lord Chesterfield's account of this negotiation:--"No mortal can comprehend the present state of affairs. Eight or nine persons, of some consequence, have resigned their employments; upon which, Lord Chatham made overtures to the Duke of Bedford and his people; but they could by no means agree, and his grace went the next day, full of wrath, to Woburn; so that negotiation is entirely at an end.

People wait to see who Lord Chatham will take in, for some he must have; even he cannot be alone, contra mundum. Such a state of things, to be sure, was never seen before, in this or in any other country. When this ministry shall be settled, it will be the sixth in six years' time."-E.

(985) Caroline, eldest daughter of William second Earl of Harrington; married, on the 7th of October 1765, to Kenneth M'Kenzie, created Baron of Andelon, Viscount Fortrose and Earl of Seaforth in the peerage of Ireland. Her ladyship died on the 9th of February 1767.-E.