I know not whether I express a common British sentiment, but the tears of Jean-Jacques over our Scottish stoic awaken in me a considerable impatience. The Earl was incapable, for his part, of lamentations. Jean-Jacques was too ‘independent’ to be the Earl’s guest. Later, he conceived in that bosom tingling with sensibility that the Earl had been ‘set against him’ by Hume—‘Ils vous ont trompé, ces barbares; mais ils ne vous ont pas changé.’ It was true, the Earl could break Prince Charles’s heart, but he always made allowances for Jean-Jacques. Rousseau, not knowing that the Earl’s heart was true to him, writes: ‘Il se laisse abuser, quelquefois, et n’en revient jamais.... Il a l’humeur singulière, quelque chose de bizarre et étrange dans son tour d’esprit. Ses cadeaux sont de fantaisie, et non de convenance. Il donne ou envoie à l’instant ce qui lui passe par tête, de grand prix, ou de nulle valeur indifféremment.’ Nevertheless the Earl was the cause of Rousseau’s ‘last happy memories.’ The Earl left Neufchâtel; he arranged for Rousseau’s refuge in England. David Hume, who was dear to the Earl, arranged the reception of Rousseau in England, and every one has heard of Rousseau’s insane behaviour, and of the quarrel with Hume. Rousseau wanted to write the History of the Keiths, and asked the Earl for documents. Jean-Jacques was hardly the man to write Scottish family history, and the documents were never entrusted to him. Here follows the letter on the topic of Rousseau, which the Earl wrote to Hume:—