"The success of the book, dear Doctor, which you mention, gives me great satisfaction, on account of my sincere friendship for the author; and so much the rather, as the success was to me unexpected. I have since begun to hope, and even to believe, that I was mistaken; and in this persuasion have several times taken it up and read chapters of it. But, to my great mortification and sorrow, I have not been able to change my sentiments. We shall see, by the duration of its fame, whether or not I am mistaken. Helvétius and Saurin both told me at Paris, that they had been consulted by Montesquieu about his 'Esprit des Loix.' They used the freedom to tell him, as their fixed opinion, that he ought to suppress the book; which they foresaw would very much injure his reputation. They said to me that, no doubt, I thought they had reason to be ashamed of their judgment. But still, added they, you may observe that the public are very much returned from their first admiration of that book; and we are persuaded that they will daily return still more.
"I hope that I shall be found a false prophet as much as these gentlemen; for though the 'Esprit des Loix,' be considerably sunk in vogue, and will probably still sink farther, it maintains a high reputation, and probably will never be totally neglected. It has considerable merit, notwithstanding the glare of its pointed wit, and notwithstanding its false refinements, and its rash and crude positions. Helvétius and Saurin assured me, that this freedom of theirs never lost them any thing of Montesquieu's friendship. I believe the like would be my case; but it is better not
to put it to a trial. On that account, as well as others, I recommend to you secrecy, towards every person except Robertson."[388:1]
A letter from Adam Smith, desiring that his friend, Count Sarsfield, might be introduced to Hume's circle of acquaintance, called forth the following narrative of a very amusing incident:—
Hume to Adam Smith.
"London, 13th June, 1767.
"Dear Smith,—The Count de Sarsfield is a good acquaintance of mine, from the time I saw him at Paris; and as he is really a man of merit, I have great pleasure whenever I meet him here. My occupations keep me from cultivating his friendship as much as I should incline. I did not introduce him to Elliot, because I knew that this gentleman's reserve and indolence would make him neglect the acquaintance; and I did not introduce him to Oswald, because I fear that he and I are broke for ever; at least he does not seem inclined to take any steps towards an accommodation with me.
"I am to tell you the strangest story you ever heard of. I was dining with him, above two months ago, where, among other company, was the Bishop of Raphoe.[388:2] After dinner we were disposed to be merry. I said to the company, that I had been very ill used by Lord Hertford; for that I always expected to be made a bishop by him during his lieutenancy! but he had given away two sees from me, to my great vexation and disappointment. The right reverend, without any farther provocation, burst out into the
most furious, and indecent, and orthodox rage that ever was seen: told me that I was most impertinent; that if he did not wear a gown, I durst not, no, I durst not, have used him so; that none but a coward would treat a clergyman in that manner; that henceforth he must either abstain from his brother's house, or I must; and that this was not the first time he had heard the stupid joke from my mouth. With the utmost tranquillity and temper I asked his pardon; assured him, upon my honour, that I did not mean him the least offence: if I had imagined he could possibly have been displeased, I never should have mentioned the subject; but the joke was not in the least against him, but entirely against myself, as if I were capable of such an expectation as that of being a bishop! my regard for himself, and still more for his brother, with whom I had long been more particularly connected, would certainly restrain me from either joke or earnest, which could be offensive to him; and that, if I had ever touched on the same topic before, I had entirely forgot it, and it must have been above a twelvemonth ago. He was nowise appeased; raved on in the same style for a long time. At last I got the discourse diverted, and took my leave, seemingly with great indifference and even good humour. I was nowise surprised nor concerned about his lordship; because I had, on other occasions, observed the same orthodox zeal swell within him, and it was often difficult for him to converse with temper when I was in the company.
"But what really surprised and vexed me was, that his brother kept silence all the time. I met him in the passage when I went away, and he made me no apology. He has never since called on me; and though he sees that I never come near his house,