- The Washington Times - Saturday, June 17, 2006

ROUSSEAU’S DOG: TWO GREAT THINKERS AT WAR IN THE AGE OF ENLIGHTENMENT

By David Edmonds and John Eidinow

HarperCollins, $25.95, 340 pages

REVIEWED BY STEPHEN GOODE

On Jan. 10, 1766, two of Europe’s most influential and enduring philosophers crossed the English Channel together. David Hume, the Scottish thinker and historian, brought the Swiss-born Jean Jacques Rousseau to England and, it was hoped, safety.

Nowhere on the continent, it seemed, was Rousseau welcome. Driven from city to city by irate officials who declared him persona non grata and publically burned his books, the author of “Emile,” “On the Social Contract,” and other works deemed deeply subversive feared for his life, as did the many admirers of his thought.

Hume believed Rousseau would prosper in relatively tolerant England, where the Swiss writer had many readers.

He was wrong. The two men were soon at odds, and their bickering turned into an unseemly spat of major proportions, news of which spread across intellectual Europe. Because of their celebrity, it became the subject of heated gossip from Paris to Berlin and Milan (and beyond), with many scrambling to discover the latest details.

Neither man emerged from the fight unblemished. Their dispute stands as a less than shining example of the pettiness, mendacity and downright meanness human beings are capable of, even those humans from whom better behavior might be expected.

In “Rousseau’s Dog,” British journalists David Edmonds and John Eidinow offer a detailed and marvelously readable account of the spat that rocked Europe in the mid-1760s. A few years ago, Mr. Edmonds and Mr. Eidinow published their first book, “Wittgenstein’s Poker.” It, too, took up a difficult and unlikely subject, the great 20th-century thinker, Ludwig Wittgenstein.

What’s pleasing is that not only do Mr. Edmonds and Mr. Eidinow write surpassingly well, but they are also able to turn often complex material into splendid stories: page-turners, really, that give readers an understanding of ideas and lives they might not otherwise be tempted to explore.

Rousseau’s and Hume’s relationship hardly lasted four months before they separated, spewing venom in one another’s direction. They never saw each other again. Part of the problem was Rousseau’s natural paranoia, which many who knew him had encountered.

“In [Rousseau’s] imagination, a vast conspiracy” took shape, the authors write, “in which Hume loomed up as the central figure.” Rousseau, who wrote a 63-paragraph letter to Hume, accused his now former friend of disloyalty, of bringing him to England to do him in and of being in cahoots with the thousands of people in Europe who hated him.

Most of this wasn’t true, of course. Hume’s sole desire had been to do Rousseau a favor, or at least that’s the way Hume saw it. But the Scottish philosopher, in part because he knew how powerfully Rousseau’s writing could influence people’s minds, reacted to the accusations with a fury that was out of character with his own past behavior — or his philosophy.

The authors find “Hume’s persistent mendacity — his utter falsehoods, his economies with the truth, his deviousness” in the whole affair “perplexing.” They cite 12 outright lies Hume told Rousseau that helped feed Rousseau’s paranoia and give substance to his charges.

And they astutely suggest that Rousseau, the “apostle of truth and shrewd observer of motivation and personality,” discerned in Hume “some lack of commitment to the truth, a certain looseness in Hume’s respect for others … [and] may have intuited Hume’s fundamental disdain for him,” all of which heightened Rousseau’s distrust.

In retrospect, as Mr. Edmonds and Mr. Eidinow write, it is not surprising that “these two cerebral beings” failed to hit it off. Their philosophies shared few or no similarities, while their vastly differing personalities were more likely to produce mutual incomprehension and distrust than common understanding and friendship.

The city- and society-loving Hume, author of “Treatise of Human Nature,” “Enquiries Concerning Human Understanding,” and “History of England,” “was all reason, doubt, and skepticism,” the authors write, while “Rousseau was a creature of feeling, alienation, imagination, and certainty,” who hated cities and sought, even craved, solitude.

It is impossible to imagine Rousseau, the precursor of the Romantics, writing, as Hume did, anything that reduced life to machines: “The experimental reasoning itself, which we possess in common with beasts, and on which the whole conduct of life depends, is nothing but a species of instinct or mechanical power.”

It is equally impossible to think of the reserved, analytic Hume gushing about nature (or for that matter, gushing about almost anything), as Rousseau very often did: “Nature has made everything in the best way possible; but we want to make it better, and we spoil everything.”

But it was on their differing definitions of friendship that their association foundered, and came to its nasty end, Mr. Eidinow and Mr. Edmonds contend. For Rousseau, friendship was central to any relationship, and true friendship had to be total.

Such friendship Rousseau saw realized in his dog, Sultan, “small and brown with a curly tail,” write the authors, who point out that the urbane Hume was “baffled by Rousseau’s fondness for Sultan” and found (in Hume’s own words) Rousseau’s “affection for that creature … above all expression or conception.”

But if Hume couldn’t comprehend Rousseau’s love for the dog, Mr. Eidinow and Mr. Edmunds do. They see that love as a basic expression of his philosophy, hence this book’s title, “Rousseau’s Dog.”

Sultan was incapable of disloyalty or mendacity, the authors point out. He gave himself utterly to Rousseau, without qualification, and this is what the Swiss philosopher saw as the essence of true friendship. Indeed, it’s what Rousseau thought friendship would be like, naturally, if society hadn’t corrupted mankind, rendering civilized men and women unable to express genuine emotion.

“In his momentary madness, fury, and panic,” Mr. Edmonds and Mr. Eidinow conclude, “Hume never grasped the root of Rousseau’s complaint: that though Hume had carried out the obligations of a friend in practice, he was constitutionally incapable of doing so in spirit.”

Mr. Edmonds and Mr. Eidinow have written a fine book about how great minds capable of communicating through their writing with millions of readers, failed miserably when it came to talking with one another.

Stephen Goode is a writer and critic in Milton, Del.

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