Chapter XIV: 1764-1765. Æt. 53-54 (1)

The French and English Society of Hume's day--Reasons of his
warm reception in France--Society in which he moved--Mixture
of lettered men with the Aristocracy--Madame Geoffrin--Madame
Du Page de Boccage--Madame Du Deffand--Mademoiselle De
L'Espinasse--D'Alembert--Turgot--The Prince of Conti--Notices
of Hume among the Parisians--Walpole in Paris--Resumption of
the Correspondence--Hume undertakes the management of Elliot's
sons--Reminiscences of home--Mrs. Cockburn--Adam Smith--Madame
De Boufflers and the Prince of Conti--Correspondence with Lord
Elibank.

There were many things to make the social position he obtained in France infinitely gratifying to Hume. Even his good birth was no claim to admission on a position of liberal familiarity with the higher aristocracy of England. His descent from a line of Scottish lairds would be insufficient in the eyes of the Walpoles, Russels, and Seymours, to distinguish him from the common herd of men who could put on a laced waistcoat and powdered wig, and command decent treatment from the lackeys in their ante-chambers. His claims rested on his Literary rank; and the extent to which such claims might be admitted was fixed by Hereditary rank at its own discretion. It might cordially receive them one day, and repel them with cold disdain on another. In this doubtful and partial recognition, Hume would find himself in the motley crowd of those who force themselves, or are partly welcomed, into these high places--dissipated men of genius, underbred men of riches, hardworking, pertinacious politicians; persons with whom his finely trained mind, his reserve, and his habit of mixing in a refined though small society of Scotsmen, would not easily harmonize.

In France matters were widely different; there he was at once warmly and affectionately received into the bosom of a society to which many of the supercilious English aristocracy would have sought for admission in vain. In England no distinct palpable barrier surrounded the distinguished group. The multitude clamorously asserted an equality. In default of other qualities, impudence and perseverance were sometimes sufficient to force admission. In these circumstances, each member of the privileged classes guarded his own portion of the arena as well as he might, and the intruder had to fight battle after battle, and contest every inch of ground he gained.

It seems as if in France the very rigidness with which the select circle was fortified was the reason why those admitted within it were placed so thoroughly at their ease. The aristocracy could open the door, look about them, and invite an individual to enter, without fearing to encounter a general rush for admission. There was much evil of every kind in that circle; we have not to deal here with its inward morality, but its outward form, and it certainly deserves to be remembered as one of the most memorable instances in which, on any large scale, the aristocracy of rank and wealth has met the aristocracy of letters without restraint. The quality of shining in conversation was not to be despised by the greatest in wealth, or the highest in the peerage; and their efforts were measured with those of the first wits of the time. To an aristocracy which could thus amuse itself, it was a great luxury to be surrounded by men of thought and learning. The courtier who could open his salon to the wits and philosophers of Paris, was far more dependant on their presence than they were on the privilege of admission. If a Barthélemi, a Marmontel, a Condillac, saw cause to desert the suppers of D'Holbach, they would be received at those of the Duc de Praslin or de Choiseul, the Prince of Conti, and Madame du Deffand; but how were such departed stars to be replaced?[209:1]

There is perhaps no more striking type of the character and condition of the Parisian coteries than one of Hume's most intimate friends, Madame Geoffrin. In this country, were an uneducated woman to frame and lead a social party, including the first in rank and in talent of the day, to which no one under royalty was too great not to deem admission a privilege; were she to be absolute in her admissions and exclusions, bold in her sarcasms, free and blunt often to rudeness in her observations and opinions, and severe or kind to all by turns as her own choice or caprice suggested, it would be at once pronounced that the reddest blood and the highest rank could alone produce such an anomaly. A very small number of eminent duchesses have perhaps occupied such a position in this country. Yet Madame Geoffrin, who acted this part to the full among the fastidious aristocracy of France before the revolution, was the daughter of a valet-de-chambre and the widow of a glass manufacturer. The foundation of her influence was her success in making herself the centre of a circle of artists and men of letters. She was much in the confidence of Madame De Tencin, and on that lady's death succeeded in transferring to herself what remained of her distinguished society, dimmed as it was by the departure of Montesquieu and Fontenelle. Madame Geoffrin by activity and energy widened the circle. She never made visits herself, and those who had the privilege of entering her dining-room on her public days, found there assembled D'Alembert, Helvétius, Raynal, Marmontel, Caraccioli, Holbach, Galliani, and the artist Vanloo. During the British embassy, David Hume, the great philosopher from the far North, might there be met; and when all other attempts had perhaps failed, some chance of encountering such an erratic meteor as Rousseau still remained in attending Madame Geoffrin's Wednesday dinner. Having once, by her signal wit and wisdom, gained her position, no obtrusive rivals from her own deserted class could push near enough to drive her from it. It is not the least admirable feature of this remarkable woman, that far from assuming the subdued and cautious tone of one of her own rank, who must be more wary than a denizen of committing breaches of the social rules of her new cast, a simplicity and freedom seems to have accompanied all her actions and ideas; a courageous adoption of what seemed good to her in place of what might be fit. Her letters, in their severe diction, give some notion of the writer's character, but cannot convey so full an impression as when they are presented in the bold, irregular, and most "unlady-like" hand in which they are scribbled.[211:1]

The pleasant retailers of the literary chit-chat of that time, Marmontel, Grimm, Bauchemont, and others, are full of details of Madame Geoffrin, who, if she was not quite as formally approached as Boufflers, or Deffand, was as much respected, loved, and feared. The author of the "Contes Moraux," tells us some of the weaknesses of this gifted lady; and, according to his account, she had been actually convicted, living as she was outwardly in the freest society in the world, of a turn for secret devotion! "Elle avait un apartement dans un couvent de religieuses et une tribune à l'Eglise des Capucins,--mais avec autant de mystère que les femmes galantes de ce temps-là avaient des petites maisons." The picture would be sufficiently ludicrous, were it not for the darker features presented by a state of society, where no one should venture to be pious except under pain of being exterminated with ridicule.

There was one matter as to which Madame Geoffrin was timid and cautious; she never meddled with matters of state or unsafe political opinions, and was induced to discountenance those who did so. Surrounded by restless and inquiring spirits, she often dreaded being compromised by their conduct; and was especially uneasy at any time when the Bastille sheltered a more than usual number of those whose wit was wont to flash round her board. But her guests have recorded, that if there was a little saddened and earnest gravity in her deportment, when she received them after such naughty affairs, she abated nothing of her old kindness. Her good heart indeed was after all her noblest quality. She was one of those who held the simple notion, that were it not for the judicious distribution of favours by the rich, the poor, including artisans and producers of all kinds, must necessarily die of starvation. She was thus in the midst of an extensive distribution of charities, actively occupied in the _encouragement_ of those who lived by the sweat of their brow; and if she believed that she accomplished much more than she actually did, it was a satisfaction not to be grudged to one who occupied herself with the fortunes of the poor, in the midst of the stony indifference of the French aristocracy of that day.

Another lady, a friend and correspondent of Hume, Madame le Page du Boccage, endeavoured to rival Madame Geoffrin as a centre of attraction; but though she possessed, along with wealth, both rank and beauty, she was unsuccessful, on account of the presence of a third quality--authorship. The wits must praise her bad poetry if they frequented her house, and where so many other doors were open without such a condition, they abandoned it. "Elle était d'une figure aimable," says Grimm, "elle est bonne femme; elle est riche; elle pouvait fixer chez elle les gens d'esprit et de bonne compagnie, sans les mettre dans l'embarras de lui parler avec peu de sincérité de sa _Colombiade_ ou de ses _Amazones_."[213:1]

Perhaps of all these eminent women, while Madame de Boufflers had the greatest amount of elegance and accomplishment, Madame du Deffand had the sharpest and most searching wit. She was the author of that proverbial _bon mot_ about St. Denis carrying his head under his arm, _il n'y a que le premier pas qui coûte_; a saying sufficient to make a reputation in France. Madame du Deffand does not appear to have been a correspondent of Hume, nor, though they occasionally met, does much cordiality seem to have subsisted between them.[214:1] The aveugle clairvoyante, as Voltaire aptly called her, in allusion to her blindness and her wit, thought that she discovered in Hume a worshipper at another shrine. She wrote to Walpole expressing her disgust of those who paid court to Madame de Boufflers, at the same time, only just not stating, in express terms, how much they were mistaken in not transferring their obsequiousness to herself.[214:2] She, certainly an object of pity from her blindness, was still more so in her own discontented spirit. The days which tranquil ease and the attentions of kind friends might have soothed, were disturbed by restless vanity, an intense desire to interfere with the doings of that world which she could not see, dissipation, and literary wrangles.

One remarkable person, an offshoot of Madame du Deffand's circle, and driven forth from it to raise an empire of her own, was Mademoiselle de L'Espinasse. Hume and she met frequently in Paris, and they subsequently corresponded together. She was an illegitimate child, who, having been well educated, had been adopted by Madame du Deffand as her companion, and the minister for supplying, as far as possible, her lost sense of sight. Mademoiselle had to be present at those displays of intellect which illuminated the table of her mistress. It soon began to transpire that the humble drudge possessed a soul of fire; and taking part in the conversation, her remarks rose as she acquired confidence and ease, into an originality of thought, fulness of judgment, and rich eloquence of language, which fascinated the senses of those veteran champions in the arena of intellect. Thus many of those who went to offer their incense to a woman old and blind, were constrained to bestow some of it on one "young in years, but in sage counsel old," who had little more outward claim on their admiration; for Mademoiselle de L'Espinasse was naturally plain, and was deeply marked with smallpox. The patroness did not present herself till six o'clock in the evening; to her who knew no difference between light and darkness it was morning. She often found that her protégée had been entertaining the guests for an hour, and that they had come early to enjoy her conversation. This was treason--an overt tampering with the allegiance of the followers; and the subordinate was driven forth with contumely.

It is not easy to decide which party, if either, was in the right; though the memoir writers in general take the part of Mademoiselle de L'Espinasse. Far from being made a homeless wanderer by the dismissal, she was immediately supplied with a house and furniture by her friends, who obtained for her a pension from the crown. On these means she founded a rival establishment of her own; and surrounded herself with an intellectual circle, which seems to have more than rivalled in brilliancy that from which she was dismissed. D'Alembert was told that if he countenanced the new idol, he must bid farewell to his former patroness. He at once joined the party of the young aspirant. He became dangerously ill, and Mademoiselle de L'Espinasse nursed him with the untiring affection of a wife or a daughter. The philosopher, whose humble dwelling was found to be on too sordid a scale to be consistent with health, thenceforth took up his abode with his young friend. Hume must have witnessed the rise of this new connexion, for it was during his residence in Paris that D'Alembert's illness took place, and it is the object of occasional anxious allusion by his Parisian acquaintance.[216:1]

Though the circumstances in which he passed his earlier days were not likely to nourish such a taste, no man seems to have been more dependant on the presence of an educated and intellectual female than the secretary of the Academy. There is little doubt that the new attachment was of a Platonic character; but it boded evil to both parties. The lady, if she had some portion of the purer affections of the soul to bestow upon the sage, had warmer feelings for likelier objects; and her frame sunk before the consuming fires of more than one passion.[218:1] She was carried to an early grave, and the mortifications, caused by her alienation, followed by grief for her death, broke the spirit, and imbittered and enfeebled the latter days of the philosopher. Hume seems to have established a closer friendship with D'Alembert than with any of his other contemporaries in France; and he left a memorial of his regard for the encyclopediast in his will. Unlike, in many respects, they had some features in common. D'Alembert's personal character, and the habits of his life, had, like his philosophy, the dignity of simplicity. His figure, and still more his voice, were the objects of much malicious sarcasm; but cruel jests could not make his fragile body less the tenement of a noble spirit; or his shrill puny voice less the instrument of great and bold thoughts. His mind stands forth in strong relief from the frippery of that age; while his writings contain no marks of that reckless infidelity which distinguishes the productions of his fellow labourers. In some of those follies, so prevalent that a man utterly free of them, must have courted the charge of eccentricity, if not of insanity, he partook; but moderately and reluctantly, as one suited for a better time and a nobler sphere of exertion. In the quarrel with Rousseau, he adopted the cause of Hume with honest zeal. He wrote many letters to Hume, which are still preserved. They perhaps, in some measure, exhibit the least amiable feature of his character--his bitterness, it might be almost termed hatred, towards Madame du Deffand, on account of her conduct to his own friend.

It is unnecessary to discourse, at any length, on the distinguished men--including the names of Buffon, Malesherbes, Diderot, Crébillon, Morellet, Helvétius, Holbach, Hénault, Raynal, Suard, La Condamine, and De Brosses, who courted Hume's company in France. Next to D'Alembert, his closest friendship seems to have been with the honest and thoughtful statesman, Turgot; who, in the midst of that reckless whirl of vanity, was already looking far into the future, and predicting, from the disorganized and menacing condition of the elements of French society, the storm that was to come. He wrote many letters to Hume, containing remarks on matters of statesmanship and political economy, which are of great interest in a historical and economical view, especially in one instance, where he notices the want of any common principle of sympathies and interests connecting the aristocracy with the people, and reflects on the dangerous consequences of such a state of matters to the peace of Europe.

There are many circumstances showing that much as he loved the social ease, combined with learning and wit, for which his Parisian circle was conspicuous, he disliked one prominent feature of that social system--the scornful infidelity, the almost intolerance of any thing like earnest belief, so often exhibited, both in speech and conduct. Sir Samuel Romilly has preserved the following curious statement by Diderot:--"He spoke of his acquaintance with Hume. 'Je vous dirai un trait de lui, mais il vous sera un peu scandaleux peut-être, car vous Anglais vous croyez _un peu_ en Dieu; pour nous autres nous n'y croyons guères. Hume dîna avec une grande compagnie chez le Baron D'Holbach. Il était assis à côté du Baron; on parla de la religion naturelle: 'Pour les Athées,' disait Hume, 'je ne crois pas qu'il en existe; je n'en ai jamais vu.' 'Vous avez été un peu malheureux,' répondit l'autre, 'vous voici à table avec dix-sept pour la première fois.'"[220:1]

The secretary's residence in the metropolis was occasionally varied by official sojourns to Fontainbleau, or Compiègne, a visit to the Duchesse de Barbantane at Villers Cotterets, or an excursion with Madame de Boufflers and the Prince of Conti to L'Ile-Adam. That rural seat of princely magnificence and hospitality is a familiar name in the memoirs of the times; and particularly in those of Madame de Genlis. It is singular, indeed, that this lady never mentions Hume, though she appears to have been living in the castle at the time when he visited it. The Prince of Conti was in every way possessed of the external qualifications which, in the eyes of his countrymen, were then the proper ornaments of his high station. He was brave, a distinguished military leader, generous, extravagant, gallant, and a lover of literature and the arts.[221:1] There was probably little in such a character to rival a Turgot, or a D'Alembert in Hume's esteem; but his intercourse with this prince, as with De Rohan, De Choiseul, and others, would be of a more limited and formal character.[221:2] His influence with courtiers and statesmen, however, appears to have been considerable. In the letters addressed to him there are several instances where French people solicit his interposition with the great: thus, Madame Helvétius desires his good offices to procure an abbaye for her friend and neighbour the Abbé "Macdonalt," of an illustrious Irish family.[222:1] One lady, seeking ecclesiastical patronage, tells him that the clergy will have more pleasure in doing him a favour than in performing the functions of their office!

Hume has thus recorded in his "own life" the impression left on him by his reception in Paris:--"Those who have not seen the strange effects of modes, will never imagine the reception I met with at Paris, from men and women of all ranks and stations. The more I resiled from their excessive civilities, the more I was loaded with them. There is, however, a real satisfaction in living at Paris; from the great number of sensible, knowing, and polite company with which that city abounds above all places in the universe. I thought once of settling there for life." If he thought that he could have taken up his residence in Paris, and preserved for the remainder of his days the fresh bloom of his reputation, he was undoubtedly mistaken; but, dazzled as he in some measure was, we can see in his correspondence that he estimated the sensation he made pretty nearly at its just value. In the circle of toys, seized and discarded, by a giddy fashionable crowd, philosophy will have its turn, as well as poodles, parrots, tulips, monkeys, cafés, and black pages. It had been so a century earlier, when the most abstruse works of Des Cartes had been the ornament of every fashionable lady's toilette; and now the wheel had revolved and philosophy was again in vogue.

A second time we have Lord Charlemont affording us a passing sketch of Hume. Having had an opportunity of witnessing the philosopher's reception in France, he says:--

"From what has been already said of him, it is apparent that
his conversation to strangers, and particularly to Frenchmen,
could be little delightful, and still more particularly, one
would suppose, to French women: and yet no lady's toilette was
complete without Hume's attendance. At the opera his broad
unmeaning face was usually seen _entre deux jolis minois_. The
ladies in France gave the ton, and the ton was deism: a
species of philosophy ill suited to the softer sex, in whose
delicate frame weakness is interesting, and timidity a
charm. . . . . How my friend Hume was able to endure the
encounter of these French female Titans, I know not. In
England, either his philosophic pride or his conviction that
infidelity was ill suited to women, made him perfectly averse
from the initiation of ladies into the mysteries of his
doctrine."[223:1]

The same characteristics are recorded by Grimm.[223:2] We have his position still more vividly painted by Madame d'Epinay, according to whom he must have undergone not a small portion of the martyrdom of lionism. One of the "rages" of the day was the holding of cafés, or giving entertainments in private houses, according to the arrangements and etiquette of a public café. Among the amusements of the evening were pantomimes, and acted tableaux. In these it was necessary that Hume should take a _rôle_, and as he was always willing to conform to established regulations, we find him seated as a sultan between two obdurate beauties, intending to strike his bosom, but aiming the blows at _le ventre_, and accompanying his acting with characteristic exclamations.[224:1]

Hume's popularity in Paris appears to have somewhat disturbed Horace Walpole's equanimity. He was too good an artist to be very angry, or to express himself in terms of aggravated bitterness; but it is clear from occasional notices, that, notwithstanding his professed admiration of Scotsmen, it displeased him to find Hume the Scotsman sitting at the king's gate. Writing to Lady Hervey on 14th Sept. 1765, he says, "Mr. Hume, that is _the mode_, asked much about your ladyship."[225:1] Then to Montague, on the 22d of the same month, and in allusion to the conversation of the dinner-table in Paris:

For literature, it is very amusing when one has nothing else
to do. I think it rather pedantic in society: tiresome when
displayed professedly; and, besides, in this country, one is
sure it is only the fashion of the day. Their taste in it is
the worst of all; could one believe, that when they read our
authors, Richardson and Mr. Hume should be their favourites?
The latter is treated here with perfect veneration. His
History, so falsified in many points, so partial in as many,
so very unequal in its parts, is thought the standard of
writing.[225:2]

Thus, and in the like strain, do the French suffer in his good opinion, for their offence in making an idol of Hume. So, on the 3d October, when writing to Mr. Chute,--

Their authors, who by the way are every where, are worse than
their own writings, which I don't mean as a compliment to
either. In general, the style of conversation is solemn,
pedantic, and seldom animated, but by a dispute. I was
expressing my aversion to disputes: Mr. Hume, who very
gratefully admires the tone of Paris, having never known any
other tone, said with great surprise, "Why, what do you like,
if you hate both disputes and whisk?"[225:3]

Then, on the 19th of the same month, to Mr. Brand:

I assure you, you may come hither very safely, and be in no
danger from mirth. Laughing is as much out of fashion as
pantins and bilboquets. Good folks, they have no time to
laugh. There is God and the king to be pulled down first; and
men and women, one and all, are devoutly employed in the
demolition. They think me quite profane for having any belief
left. But this is not my only crime; I have told them, and am
undone by it, that they have taken from us to admire the two
dullest things we had--Whisk and Richardson. It is very true
that they want nothing but George Grenville to make their
conversations, or rather dissertations, the most tiresome upon
earth. For Lord Lyttelton, if he would come hither, and turn
freethinker once more, he would be reckoned the most agreeable
man in France,--next to Mr. Hume, who is the only thing in the
world that they believe implicitly, which they must do, for I
defy them to understand any language that he speaks.[226:1]

At this time Adam Smith was travelling in France, with his pupil, the young Duke of Buccleuch. On 5th July, 1764, he writes from Toulouse, requesting Hume to give him and his pupil introductions to distinguished Frenchmen, the Duc de Richelieu, the Marquis de Lorges, &c. He says, that Mr. Townsend had assured him of these and other introductions, from the Duc de Choiseul, but that none had made their appearance in that quarter. Smith seems to have been heartily tired of the glittering bondage of his tutorship, and to have sighed for the academic conviviality he had left behind him at Glasgow. He says:--

"The Duke is acquainted with no Frenchman whatever. I cannot cultivate the acquaintance of the few with whom I am acquainted, as I cannot bring them to our house, and am not always at liberty to go to theirs. The life which I led at Glasgow, was a pleasureable dissipated life in comparison of that which I lead here at present. I have begun to write a book, in order to pass away the time. You may believe I have very little to do. If Sir James would come and spend a month with us in his travels, it would not only be a great satisfaction to me, but he might, by his influence and example, be of great service to the Duke."[228:1]

There is little doubt that the book he had begun to write, was the "Wealth of Nations:" and we have here probably the earliest announcement of his employing himself in that work. On the 21st of October, he writes from Toulouse, stating that the letters of introduction had reached him, and that his noble pupil was well received. He says, "Our expedition to Bourdeaux, and another we have made since to Bagneres, has made a great change upon the Duke. He begins now to familiarize himself to French company; and I flatter myself I shall spend the rest of the time we are to live together, not only in peace and contentment, but in great amusement."

Amidst the multiplied attractions of Paris, Hume's thoughts were often turned to his native city, and the circle of kind friends and admirers he had there left behind him. Such reminiscences of home doings as are contained in the following letters, would doubtless ensure his warm attention. On 1st July, Blair writes:

Robertson has, of late, had worse health than usual, which has
somewhat interrupted his studies. He talked once of a trip to
France this season; but his want of the language is so
discouraging, as seems to have made him lay aside thoughts of
it for the present. It will be a twelvemonth more, I suppose,
before his Charles V. shall see the light.

I dined this day with Sir James Macdonald, on whose praises I
need not expatiate to you. Much conversation we had about you;
and a great deal I heard of your flourishing state. You write
concerning it yourself, like a philosopher and a man of sense.
The first splendour and eclat of such situations soon loses
its lustre, and often, as you found it, is burdensome. Ease
and agreeable society are the only things that last and
remain; and these, now that you are quite naturalized, and
have formed habits of life, I imagine you enjoy in a very
comfortable degree. The society at Paris, to one who has all
your advantages for enjoying it in its perfection, is, I am
fully convinced, from all that I have heard, the most
agreeable in the whole world.

Our education here is at present in high reputation. The
Englishes are crowding down upon us every season, and I wish
may not come to hurt us at the last.[229:1]

Jardine writes, on 1st August:--

I have attempted, four or five times, to write to you but this
poor church has, for some time past, been in such danger, that
I could never find time for it. She has employed all my
thoughts and care for these twelve months past. The enemy had
kindled such a flame, that the old burning bush was like to
have been consumed altogether. I know it will give you
pleasure to hear that my endeavours to preserve her have been
crowned with success. She begins to shine forth with her
ancient lustre; and will very soon be, not only fair as the
sun, but, to all her enemies, terrible as an army with
banners.[230:1]

It is pleasing to find one whose name has been so much associated with the later school of our national literature, as Mrs. Cockburn, the early friend of Scott, enjoying the intimacy of the sages of the philosophical age of Scottish letters. This accomplished lady, well known as the authoress of one of the versions of "The Flowers of the Forest," was a correspondent of Hume. A few of her letters have been preserved; and the following are her free and animated remarks on Hume's flattering reception in France,--remarks written in the full assurance that neither adulation nor prosperity would diminish the regard of that simple manly heart, for the chosen friends he had left in his native soil.

From the bleak hills of the north, from the uncultured
daughter of Caledon, will the adored sage of France deign to
receive a few lines: they come from the _heart_ of a friend,
and will be delivered by the _hand_ of an enemy. Which, O man
of mode, is most indifferent to thee? Insensible thou art
alike to gratitude or resentment; fit for the country that
worships thee. Thou art equally insensible to love or hate. A
momentary applause, ill begot, and worse brought up,--an
abortion, a fame not founded on truth,--have bewitched thee,
and thou hast forgot those who, overlooking thy errors, saved
thy worth. Idol of Gaul, I worship thee not. The very cloven
foot, for which thou art worshipped, I despise: yet I remember
_thee_ with affection. I remember that, in spite of vain
philosophy, of dark doubts, of toilsome learning, God had
stamped his image of benignity so strong upon thy _heart_,
that not all the labours of thy head could efface it. Idol of
a foolish people, be not puffed up; it is easy to overturn the
faith of a multitude that is ready to do evil: an apostle of
less sense might bring to that giddy nation--libertinism;
liberty they are not born to. This will be sent to you by your
good friend, Mr. Burnet; who goes much such an errand as you
have given yourself through life, viz., in search of truth;
and I believe both are equally impartial in the search;
though, indeed, he has more visible interests for darkening it
than ever you had.

_Castlehill, Baird's Close, Aug. 20th, 1764._[231:1]

HUME _to_ ANDREW MILLAR.

"_Paris, 3d September, 1764._

"It is certain that nothing could be a greater inducement to me to continue my History, than your desiring so earnestly I should do so. I have so great reason to be satisfied with your conduct towards me, that I wish very much to gratify you in every thing that is practicable; and there want not other motives to make me embrace that resolution. For, though I think I have reason to complain of the blindness of party, which has made the public do justice to me very slowly, and with great reluctance, yet I find that I obtain support from many impartial people; and hope that I shall every day have more reason to be satisfied in that particular. But, in my present situation, it is impossible for me to undertake such a work; and I cannot break off from Lord Hertford, as long as he is pleased to think me useful to him. I shall not, however, lose sight of this object; and any materials that cast up, in this country, shall be carefully collected by me.

"I am glad you are satisfied with the publication of the new edition of my Essays. I shall be obliged to you if you will inform yourself exactly how many copies are now sold, both of that edition and of the octavo edition of my History. I think both these editions very correct. I did little more than see your friends, Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Wilson, at Paris, and present them to Lord Hertford. We returned not from Compiegne till a few days before they left Paris. . . . . . I think the Duchess of Douglas has chosen well in making Mallet one of her commissioners. I have no good opinion of that cause. Mrs. Mallet has retired into the forest of Fontainbleau with a Macgregor. I fancy she is angry with me, and thought herself neglected by me while in Paris. I heard of her thrusting herself every where into companies, who endeavoured to avoid her; and I was afraid she would have laid hold of me to enlarge her acquaintance among the French. I have not yet executed your commission with Mons{r}. le Roy, but shall not forget it. I am very glad that Mrs. Millar is so good as to remember me. I shall regard it as one agreeable circumstance attending my return to England, that you and she will have leisure to give more of your company to your friends; and I shall always be proud to be ranked in the number.

"The lowness of stocks surely proceeds not from any apprehension of war: never was a general peace established in Europe with more likelihood of its continuance; but I fancy your stocks are become at last too weighty, to the conviction of all the world. What must happen, if we go on at the same rate during another war? I am, with great sincerity, dear sir, your most obedient humble servant."[233:1]

The course of correspondence with Elliot, which commences with the next following letter, relates, in a great measure, to the disposal of his two sons at Paris, and to their future training and education.[233:2] There could be no better evidence of the reliance placed in Hume's honourable principles and knowledge of the world, by those friends who were sufficiently intimate with him, fully to appreciate his character; while his whole conduct in the transaction shows kindness of heart, with a warm attachment to friends, and an earnest disposition to serve them.

GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto to_ HUME.

MY DEAR SIR,--My departure from Paris was so very sudden, that
I was obliged to leave many of my little schemes uncompleted;
and, what was still more mortifying, to see the progress of
all my growing attachments cruelly interrupted. I reached this
place just in time, though not a little retarded by the
Russian chancellor and his forty horses. Had I but foreseen
this obstruction, I might as well have set out on Wednesday
morning at two o'clock; and in that case, my dear
philosopher, what a delicious evening should I have passed in
your company.

Upon full deliberation I am determined to send you my boys, if
a tolerable place can be found for their reception. I did not
much like that talking professor, who undertakes so largely:
if nothing better can be done, pray take the trouble to renew
my negotiation with Madame Anson. Her house, though not just
what I could wish, is, however, not much amiss. I must not
lose this occasion of sending my children to France. I shall
never find any other so favourable. It will be no small
consolation to their mother, from whom they are now to be
separated for the first time, to know that we are not without
a friend in Paris, who will sometimes have an eye to their
conduct. If I am not too partial, I think you will find in
their character much native simplicity, and perhaps some
little elevation of mind. Send them back to me, my dear sir,
with the same qualities, tempered, if you will, but not
impaired by the acquisition of some few of those graces which
spread such an inexpressible charm through those societies
where even you are not ashamed to pass so many precious hours.

If you should find no leisure to give them a moment's
instruction, tell them at least to look up to the conduct and
character of a young friend of ours at Paris.[234:1] There
they will find a model, which, without hoping to equal, it
will, however, become them to copy. But, after all, what am I
about? At Paris, to have children at all, is _de plus mauvais
ton de monde_, and I forgot to inform myself, when one happens
to have them, whether it be _permitted_ to take any thought
about them. I am impatient to hear from you at London. I shall
not be long there. I desire you would take this important
business into your hands and settle it for me entirely. I will
send them over the moment you desire me, and consigned to whom
you direct,--the sooner the better: you will settle all other
particulars as you find proper. Before I conclude, allow me in
friendship also to tell you, I think I see you at present upon
the very brink of a precipice. One cannot too much clear
their mind of all little prejudices, but partiality to one's
country is not a prejudice. Love the French as much as you
will. Many of the individuals are surely the proper objects of
affection; but, above all, continue still an Englishman. You
know, better than any body, that the active powers of our mind
are much too limited to be usefully employed in any pursuit
more general than the service of that portion of mankind which
we call our country. General benevolence and private
friendship will attend a generous mind and a feeling heart,
into every country; but political attachment confines itself
to one.

Mon _fils_, sur les humains que ton ame attendrie,
Habite l'univers, mais aime sa patrie.

I have not now leisure to trouble you with the few
observations my too short stay at Paris had but imperfectly
furnished me with. Irreconcileable to the principles of their
government, I am delighted with the amenity and gentleness of
their manners. I was even pleased to find that the severity
and rigour of our English climate had not rendered me
altogether insensible to the kind impressions of a milder sky.
May I trouble you with my most cordial and sincere respects to
Lord and Lady Hertford. Some French names, too, I could
mention, but I am not vain enough to imagine that I can, upon
so short an acquaintance, have a place in their remembrance.
Believe me, very dear sir, yours very sincerely, and most
affectionately,

GILBERT ELLIOT.[235:1]

(I set out this moment.)

_Brussels, 15th September, 1764._

HUME _to_ GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto_.

"_Paris, 22d Sept. 1764._

"As soon as I received yours from Brussels, I set on foot my inquiries. I spoke to Abbé Hooke, to Père Gordon, to Clairaut, to Madame de Pri, and to others, with a view of finding some proper settlement for your young gentlemen. Every body told me, as _they_ did, of the difficulty of succeeding in my scheme; and nothing yet has been offered me, that I would advise you to accept of. I went to Madame Anson's, and found that family a very decent, sensible kind of people. I came in upon them about seven o'clock, and found a company of eight or nine persons assembled, whose aspects pleased me very much. The only objection that occurred to me with regard to this family, is the quarter of the town, which is not only so unfashionable, that my coachman was astonished when I ordered him to drive thither, but, what is worse, it is far from all walks and places of exercise. However, it is near the university; and, consequently, it is in that quarter where all the youth of France are educated. If nothing better present itself, I shall conclude a bargain with this family for a thousand crowns a-year, without firing or washing, according to the terms proposed to you, which they said they could not depart from. The misfortune is, that I must go to Fontainbleau in about a fortnight, and, consequently, am straitened in my time of inquiry; but, in all cases, I shall certainly conclude with somebody before my departure. We stay six weeks at Fontainbleau, during which time, if you send your sons to Paris, I shall take a journey thither to receive them. In all cases, they must come immediately to the Hotel de Brancas, where they will not want friends.

"I do not like the talking man more than you do; and a flattering letter I have since received from him, does not augment my good opinion. I went to Monsieur Bastide, he who proposed the scheme for ten thousand livres a-year. He seems to be a genteel, well-bred man; lives in a very good house in an excellent quarter of the town; is well spoke of by D'Alembert and others; and has with him two very agreeable boys, Russian princes, who speak French very well. I should have given him the preference, had it not been the price. He asks ten thousand livres a-year for your two sons and their governor, without supplying them either with clothes or masters. You know his ten thousand a-piece included all expenses. If you can resolve to go so far in point of expense, it is the best place that occurs, or is likely to occur.

"Since I wrote the above, I went to see Mademoiselle L'Espinasse, D'Alembert's mistress, who is really one of the most sensible women in Paris. She told me that there could not be a worthier, honester, better man, than Bastide. I told her that I had entertained the same opinion, but was afraid his head-piece was none of the best. She owned that he did not excel on that side; and a proof of it was, that he had wrote several books, all of which were below middling. On my return home, I found the enclosed letter from him.[237:1] I have promised him an answer by the return of the post from England. On the whole, the chief advantage, as it appears to me, which his house will have above Anson's, consists in the air and situation. It lies on the skirts of the town, in an open street near the rampart; but five thousand livres a-year is paying too dear for the advantage.

"I cannot imagine what you mean by saying I am on a precipice. I shall foretell to you the result of my present situation almost with as great certainty as it is possible to employ with regard to any future event. As soon as Lord Hertford's embassy ends, which probably may not continue long, some zealot, whom I never saw, and never could offend, finding me without protection, will instanter fly, with alacrity, to strike off that pension which the king and the ministry, before I would consent to accept of my present situation, promised should be for life. I shall be obliged to leave Paris, which I confess I shall turn my back to with regret. I shall go to Thoulouse or Montauban, or some provincial town in the south of France, where I shall spend, contented, the rest of my life, with more money, under a finer sky, and in better company than I was born to enjoy.

"From what human motive or consideration can I prefer living in England than in foreign countries? I believe, taking the continent of Europe, from Petersburg to Lisbon, and from Bergen to Naples, there is not one who ever heard of my name, who has not heard of it with advantage, both in point of morals and genius. I do not believe there is one Englishman in fifty, who, if he heard I had broke my neck to-night, would be sorry. Some, because I am not a Whig; some because I am not a Christian; and all because I am a Scotsman. Can you seriously talk of my continuing an Englishman? Am I, or are you, an Englishman? Do they not treat with derision our pretensions to that name, and with hatred our just pretensions to surpass and govern them? I am a citizen of the world; but if I were to adopt any country, it would be that in which I live at present, and from which I am determined never to depart, unless a war drives me into Switzerland or Italy.

"I must now inform you what passed with regard to my affair at L'ile-Adam.[238:1] My friend showed me a letter, which she had lately received from Lord Tavistock, by which it appears he had fallen into great friendship, and bore a great regard to Lady Sarah Bunbury. I instantly forbade her to write to England a line about my affair. I bear too great a respect to her, to expose her to ask a favour, where there was so little probability of success: thus have vanished my best hopes of obtaining justice in this point. Here is surely no new ground of attachment to England."[239:1]

HUME _to_ GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto_.

"_Hotel de Brancas, 30th Sept. 1764._

"After acknowledging that I received both your letters, that from Brussels, and that from Calais, I should be ashamed to appear before you with so late a letter. This day fortnight, Lord March and Selwin appointed to go off. I sent March a very long letter for you, and enjoined him, as he lived next door to you, to deliver it the moment he arrived; and having thus done my duty, I went very contentedly to L'ile-Adam, where I remained for four days. On my return to Paris, I was much surprised to hear that March, after his post-chaise was yoked, had changed his mind, and was still in Paris. When I appeared alarmed at this intelligence, I was told that he had sent off an express to London with letters, which composed my mind. Next day I saw him, and he fairly confessed, that from forgetfulness, he had not sent off my letter. I begged him to send it to me; he promised it, delayed it, promised again, and at last owns that he has lost it; which gives me great vexation, both on your account, and my own, for I spoke to you with great freedom, and am infinitely uneasy lest my letter should fall into bad hands.[241:1] When I rail at March, I get no other reply than, 'God damn you! if your letter was of consequence, why the devil did you trust it to such a foolish fellow as me?' I am therefore obliged, in a great hurry, to give you some imperfect account of what I have done. I went to Ansons', who seem a discreet, sober set of people. I came in upon a mixed company, whose looks pleased me: the only objection is the quarter of the town, which is straitened; but it is near the University, and consequently where all the youth of France are educated. I do not like the talking man more than you; and a very flattering letter he wrote me, helped further to disgust me. La Bastide, the 10,000 livres man, I went to see: he seems an agreeable man, and is well spoke of; he lives in an agreeable house, and in a good air, and has two young Russian princes with him, who speak very good French; he offers to take your two boys and preceptor for 8000 livres on the whole, but without paying either clothes or master. I suppose you would not choose to pay 5000 livres a-year, merely for the advantage of better air. I have heard a very good character of one Eriot, professor of rhetoric in the Collège de Beauvais, who offers to take them: they would live in the house with him alone; but he proposes that they should go to all the classes of the university, where they would make acquaintance with French boys, and nobody would ever ask questions about their religion: But as I heard you declare against their going to the university, (which yet I should highly approve of,) I cannot make any bargain with Eriot. The misfortune is, I go to Fontainbleau to-morrow se'ennight, and must conclude a bargain without hearing from you, by this fine trick Lord March has played me. It is probable, therefore, it will be with Anson, because you yourself did not disapprove of that plan; and I should be afraid to depart from it considerably, without your authority. If you give me information in time, I shall come from Fontainbleau to settle your boys. In any case make them come immediately to the Hotel de Brancas, where they will not want friends if any of the family be in town.

"Since I wrote the above, one of my numerous scouts came to me, and told me, that within gunshot of the Hotel de Brancas, there was to be found all I could wish, and more than I could have imagined. It is called La Pension Militaire. I immediately went to see it. I found there an excellent airy house, with an open garden belonging to it. It is the best house but one in Paris; has a prospect and access into the large open space of the Invalids, and from thence into the fields. The number of boys is limited to thirty-five, whom I saw in the court, in a blue uniform with a narrow silver lace. They left off their play, and made me a bow with the best grace in the world, as I passed. I was carried to their master the Abbé Choquart, who appeared to me a sensible, sedate, judicious man, agreeable to the character I had received of him. He carried me through the boys' apartments, which were cleanly, light, spacious, and each lay in a small bed apart. I saw a large collection of instruments for experimental philosophy. I saw an ingenious machine for teaching chronology. There were plans of fortification. While I was considering these, I heard a drum beat in the court. It was the hour for assembling the boys for their military exercises. I went down. They had now all got on their belts, and had their muskets in their hands. They went through all the Prussian exercises with the best air and greatest regularity imaginable. Almost all were about your son's age, a year or two more or less. They are the youth of the best quality in France; their air and manners seemed to bespeak it. The master asked only about thirteen hundred livres a-year for each of your boys, five hundred for the preceptor. He supplies them with all masters, except those of dancing, music, and designing; for these they have masters that come in, who take only eight livres a-month, though they require from others three louis-d'ors. There is a riding master belonging to the house. Your sons need never go to mass unless they please, and nobody shall ever talk to them about religion; the master only requires, that you should write him a letter, which he will read to every body, by which you desire . . . ."[243:1]

The following short letter was addressed to Mr. Elliot on the same day with the preceding one, for the reason which the letter itself states. The anxious care with which Hume endeavoured not only to be punctual and exact himself in the performance of the business he had undertaken, but to remedy the consequences of the absence of these qualities in others, may afford a useful reproof to those who demean themselves as above the exercise of these homely virtues; and shows that the practice of them has been, in one instance at least, considered not incompatible with the design and achievement of intellectual greatness.

HUME _to_ GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto_.

"_Hotel de Brancas, 30th September, 1764._