Philosophical Works, v. 1 · David Hume
SIR,
I shall only answer one article of your long letter: it is that which regards the conversation between us the evening before your departure. Mr Davenport had imagined a good natured artifice, to make you believe that a retour chaise had offered for Wooton; and I believe he made an advertisement be put in the papers, in order the better to deceive you. His purpose was only to save you some expenses in the journey, which I thought a laudable project; though I had no hand either in contriving or conducting it. You entertained, how ever, suspicions of his design, while we were sitting alone by my fire-side; and you reproached me with concurring in it. I endeavoured to pacify you, and to divert the discourse; but to no purpose. You sat sullen, and was either silent, or made me very peevish answers. At last you rose up, and took a turn or two about the room; when all of a sudden, and to my great surprise, you clapped yourself on my knee, threw your arms about my neck, kissed me with seeming ardour, and bedewed my face with tears. You exclaimed, 'My dear friend, can you ever pardon this folly! After all the pains you have taken to serve me, after the numberless instances of friendship you have given me, here I reward you with this ill humour and sullenness. But your forgiveness of me will be a new instance of your friendship; and I hope you will find at bottom, that my heart is not unworthy of it.'
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. This incident, Sir, was somewhat remarkable; and it is impossible that either you or I could so soon have forgot it. But you have had the assurance to tell me the story twice in a manner so different, or rather so opposite, that when I persist, as I do, in this account, it necessarily follows, that either you or I am a liar. You imagine, perhaps, that because the incident passed privately without a witness, the question will lie between the credibility of your assertion and of mine. But you shall not have this advantage or disadvantage, whichever you are pleased to term it. I shall produce against you other proofs, which will put the matter beyond controversy. First, You are not aware, that I have a letter under your hand, which is totally irreconcilable with your account, and confirms mine.[41] Secondly, I told the story the next day, or the day after, to Mr Davenport, with a friendly view of preventing any such good natured artifices for the future. He surely remembers it.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.