Chapter XIV: 1764-1765. Æt. 53-54 (2)

"I have wrote you a long letter to London, a short one to Harrowgate, and now I write to you to Minto. Not to lose time, you must have a little implicit faith; without making further questions, give instantly orders that your sons be sent to me, and that they come instantly to the Hotel de Brancas. Within less than a gunshot of this, I have found a place which has all advantages beyond what your imagination could suggest; it is almost directly opposite to my friend the Marechale de Mirepoix's, by whose advice I act. I tell you this, lest your opinion of my discretion be not the highest in the world. There are there about thirty boys of the best families in France. The house is spacious, airy, clean, has a garden, opens into the fields; the board costs only thirteen hundred livres a-year for each boy, five hundred for the tutor; the boys have almost all masters for this sum. I have concluded the bargain for a quarter; the payment runs on from the first of October, because the course of studies begins then; there will be no question about religion or the mass. I have been more particular in my letter to London. Nothing was ever so fortunate for your purpose."

"_Hotel de Brancas, 9th October, 1764._

"I go to Fontainbleau to-day; my Lady and Lord Beauchamp go also. Mr. Trail, the chaplain, and Mr. Larpent, my lord's secretary, follow in a few days. All these arrangements are unexpected; but the consequence is, that there will be nobody in the Hotel de Brancas for some weeks; but this need not retard a moment your sending the young gentlemen. I have spoke to the master of the academy, who says that the moment they arrive they shall be settled as well as if all their kindred were there. I have sent the enclosed letter to him, which the gentleman who attends them may deliver immediately on his arrival in Paris. Vive valeque."[245:1]

In 1764, the Comte de Boufflers died, and his widow expected to be made Princess of Conti. Hume seems to have seen from the first that this expectation was likely to lead to manifold mortifications, and that it was the duty of a true friend to prepare her mind for disappointment. In this spirit he wrote her the following long and carefully considered letters, in answer to some communications from her, full of hopes and fears, and all a Frenchwoman's nervous agitations.

HUME _to the_ COMTESSE DE BOUFFLERS.

_Wednesday, 28th of November, 1764._

You may believe that, ever since my return to Paris, I have
kept my eyes and ears open with regard to every thing that
concerns your affair. I find it is the general opinion of all
those who think themselves the best informed, that a
resolution is taken in your favour; and that the resolution
will probably have place. But you do not expect surely, that
so great an event will pass without censure. It would ill
become my friendship to flatter you on this head. The envy and
jealousy of the world would alone account for a repugnance in
many. Nobody has been more generally known than you; both of
late and in your early youth. Will so numerous an acquaintance
be pleased to see you pass, from being their equal, to be so
much their superior? Will they bear your uniting the decisive
elevation of rank to the elevation of genius, which they feel,
and which they would in vain contest? Be assured, that she is
really and sincerely your friend, who can willingly yield you
so great advantages.

But though I hear some murmurs of this kind, I have likewise
the consolation to meet with several who entertain opposite
sentiments. I was told of a man of superior sense, nowise
connected with you, who maintained in a public company, that,
if the report was true, nothing could give him a higher idea
of the laudable and noble principles of your friend. The
execution of his purpose, he said, could not only be
justified, but seemed a justice due to you. The capital point
is to interpose as few delays as possible. Time must create
obstacles, and can remove none. While the matter seems in
suspense, many will declare themselves with violence against
you, and will render themselves irreconcilable enemies by such
declarations. They might be the first to pay court to you,
had no leisure been allowed them to display their envy and
malignity.

On the whole, I am fully persuaded, from what I hear and see,
that the matter will end as we wish. But in all cases, I
foresee, that, let the event be what it will, you will reap
from it much honour and much vexation. Alas! dear madam, the
former is never a compensation for the latter: especially to
you, whose delicate frame, already shaken by an incident of
much less importance surely, is ill calculated to bear such
violent agitations. Pardon these sentiments if you think them
mean. They are dictated by my friendship for you. I am indeed
so mean as to wish you alive and healthy and gay in any
fortune. A fine consolation for us truly, to see the epithet
of princess inscribed on your grave, while we reflect that it
contains what was the most amiable in the world? I propose to
pay my respects to you the beginning of next week.

_10th December, 1764._

It is needless to inform you, how much you employed my
thoughts in this great crisis of your fortune, of your health,
of your life itself. You could perceive, by undoubted signs,
that I partook sincerely of the violent anxieties, by which I
found you agitated; and that, after having endeavoured in vain
to appease the tumult of your passions, I was at last
necessitated myself to take part in your distress. My sympathy
is not abated by absence. I find myself incapable almost of
other occupation or amusement.

You still recur to my memory. The chief relief I have is in
writing to you, and throwing together some thoughts, which
occur to me, on your subject.

They are mostly the same which occurred in conversation, and
which I have already suggested to you. They will acquire no
additional authority at present in writing, except by
convincing you that they are the result of my most mature
reflections.

Of all your friends, I, as a foreigner, am perhaps the least
capable of giving you advice on so delicate a subject: I only
challenge the preference, in the warmth of my affection and
esteem towards you; and I am, as a foreigner, the farther
removed from all suspicion of separate interests and regards.

I cannot too often repeat, what I inculcated on you with great
earnestness, that, even if your friend should fix his
resolution on the side least favourable to you, you ought to
receive his determination without the least resentment. You
know that princes, more than other men, are born slaves to
prejudices, and that this tax is imposed on them, as a species
of retaliation by the public. This prince in particular is in
every view so eminent, that he owes some account of his
conduct to Europe in general, to France, and to his family,
the most illustrious in the world. It is expected, that men,
in his station, shall not be actuated by private regards. It
is expected, that with them friendship, affection, sympathy,
shall be absorbed in ambition, and in the desire of supporting
their rank in the world; and, if they fail in this duty, they
will meet with blame from a great part of the public. Can you
be surprised, that a person covetous of honour, should be
moved by these considerations? If he neglected them, would not
your grateful heart suggest to you, that he had taken an
extraordinary step in your favour? And can you, with any
grace, complain, that an extraordinary event has not happened,
merely because you wished for it, and found it desirable?

I am fully sensible, madam, of the force of those arguments
which you urged, not to justify your resentment, [from] which
you declared you would ever be exempted, but to maintain the
reasonableness of your expectations. I am fully sensible of
the regard, the sacred regard, due to a long and sincere
attachment, which, passing from love to friendship, lost
nothing of its warmth, and acquired only the additional merit
of reason and constancy. This regard, I own, is really
honourable and virtuous; and may safely be opposed to the
maxims of an imaginary honour, which, depending upon modes and
prejudices, will always be regarded, by great minds, as a
secondary consideration. I shall add, what your modesty would
not allow you to surmise, or even, perhaps, to think, that an
extraordinary step, taken in favour of extraordinary merit,
will always justify itself; and will appear but an ordinary
tribute. Allow me to do you this justice in your present
melancholy situation. I know I am exempt from flattery: I
believe I am exempt from partiality. The zeal and fervour
which move me, are the effects, not the causes of my judgment.

But, my dear friend, the consideration, which is the most
interesting, the most affecting, the most alarming, is the
immediate danger of your health and life, from the violent
situation into which fortune has now thrown you. You continued
long to live, with tolerable tranquillity, though exposed to
many vexations, in a state little befitting your worth and
merit; and you still comforted yourself by reflecting that you
could not change it, without withdrawing from a friendship
dearer to you than life itself. You still could flatter
yourself, that the person, for whose sake you made this
sacrifice, if he had it in his power, would, at any price,
repair your honour, and fortify his connexions with you. The
unexpected death of M. de Boufflers has put an end to these
illusions. It has at once brought you within reach of honour
and felicity: and has thrown a poison on your former state, by
rendering it still less honourable than before.

You cannot say, madam, that I do not feel, and with the most
pungent sensation, the cruelty of your situation. I am
sensible too, that time will scarcely bring any remedy to this
evil.

The loss of a friend, of a dignity, of fortune, admits of
consolation, if not from reason, at least from oblivion; and
these sorrows are not eternal. But while you maintain your
present connexions, your hopes, still kept alive, will still
enliven your natural desire of that state to which you aspire,
and your disgust towards that state in which you will find
yourself. I foresee that your lively passions, continually
agitated, will tear in pieces your tender frame: melancholy
and a broken constitution may then prove your lot, and the
remedy which could now preserve your health and peace of mind,
may come too late to restore them.

What advice, then, can I give you, in a situation so
interesting? The measure which I recommend to you requires
courage, but I dread that nothing else will be able to prevent
the consequences, so justly apprehended. It is, in a word,
that after employing every gentle art to prevent a rupture,
you should gradually diminish your connexion with the Prince,
should be less assiduous in your visits, should make fewer and
shorter journeys to his country seats, and should betake
yourself to a private, and sociable, and independent life at
Paris. By this change in your plan of living, you cut off at
once the expectations of that dignity to which you aspire; you
are no longer agitated with hopes and fears; your temper
insensibly recovers its former tone; your health returns; your
relish for a simple and private life gains ground every day,
and you become sensible, at last, that you have made a good
exchange of tranquillity for grandeur. Even the dignity of
your character, in the eyes of the world, recovers its lustre,
while men see the just price you set upon your liberty; and
that, however the passions of youth may have seduced you, you
will not now sacrifice all your time, where you are not deemed
worthy of every honour.

And why should you think with reluctance on a private life at
Paris? It is the situation for which I thought you best
fitted, ever since I had the happiness of your acquaintance.
The inexpressible and delicate graces of your character and
conversation, like the soft notes of a lute, are lost amid the
tumult of company, in which I commonly saw you engaged. A more
select society would know to set a juster value upon your
merit. Men of sense, and taste, and letters, would accustom
themselves to frequent your house. Every elegant society would
court your company. And though all great alterations in the
habits of living may, at first, appear disagreeable, the mind
is soon reconciled to its new situation, especially if more
congenial and natural to it. I should not dare to mention my
own resolutions on this occasion, if I did not flatter myself
that your friendship gives them some small importance in your
eyes. Being a foreigner, I dare less answer for my plans of
life, which may lead me far from this country; but if I could
dispose of my fate, nothing could be so much my choice as to
live where I might cultivate your friendship. Your taste for
travelling might also afford you a plausible pretence for
putting this plan in execution: a journey to Italy would
loosen your connexions here; and, if it were delayed some
time, I could, with some probability, expect to have the
felicity of attending you thither.[251:1]

Hume had the happiness of Madame de Boufflers sincerely at heart; and we find him, on 24th June, 1765, thus writing to his brother:--

"I had great hopes, all the winter, of seeing the Countess in a station suitable to her merit, and of paying my respects to her as part of the royal family. Several accidents have disappointed us; and the various turns of this affair have more agitated me than almost any event in which I was ever engaged."

The following correspondence exhibits a feature in Hume's character, which to many readers will be new, and perhaps unpleasing. It shows that he was by no means exempt from the passion of anger, and that when under its influence he was liable to be harsh and unreasonable. The general notion formed of his character is, that he passed through life unmoved and immovable, a placid mass of breathing flesh, on which the ordinary impulses which rouse the human passions into life might expend themselves in vain. We have seen that very early in life he had undertaken the task of bringing his passions and propensities under the yoke, and directing all his physical and mental energies to the accomplishment of his early and never fading vision of literary renown. From many indications which petty incidents in his life afford, it would appear that the ardour of his nature, if thus regulated, was not eradicated; and one cannot, in a general survey of his course and character, reject the conclusion, that his early resolution not to enter the lists as a controversial writer, mentioned in the following letter, was suggested by a profound self-knowledge, and a consciousness of his inability to preserve his temper as a controversialist.

The person against whom all the wrath of the following letter is directed, is the respectable author of the "Historical and Critical Inquiry into the Evidence produced by the Earls Murray and Morton against Mary Queen of Scots." That, assailed as he often was by attacks so much more vehement and unscrupulous, Hume should have taken so deep umbrage at this piece of free historical criticism, is a problem not easily to be explained. It is not a little remarkable that the bitterest remark on any contemporary contained in his published works, is a note to his History, in which he has abbreviated the purport of the letter.[252:1]

HUME _to_ LORD ELIBANK.[252:2]

"MY LORD,--As I am told that Dr. Robertson has wrote a few remarks, which he communicated to your lordship, as our common answer about the affair of Queen Mary, and has endeavoured to show you that it was contempt and not inability, which kept him from making a public reply; I thought it would not be amiss for me to imitate his example; and I did not indeed know a properer person, nor a more equal judge than your lordship, to whom I could submit the cause. For if, on the one hand, your lordship's regard to the memory of that princess might give you a bias to that side, I know, that the ancient and constant friendship, with which your lordship has always honoured me, both in public and private, would give you a strong bias on my side; and there was a good chance for your remaining neutral and impartial between these motives.

"I shall confine my apology to the account which I have given of the conference at Hampton court, as this is indeed the chief point, in which the answerer has thought proper to find fault with me.

"There are several places, in which I mention Mary's refusal to give any reply to Murray's charge, and have commonly said, that she annexed as a condition, her being admitted to Queen Elizabeth's presence; as in page 496, line 20; page 501, line 12, line 21.[253:1] I have not said that this condition was an unreasonable one, (the words which the answerer puts in my mouth,) but only that it was such a one as she did not expect to be granted; and that because Queen Elizabeth had formerly refused it, before any positive proofs of Mary's guilt were produced, merely from the general rumour and opinion, which were unfavourable to her. Having thus clearly expressed myself on this head, when I have occasion afterwards, in the course of the narration, to mention the matter, I say once or twice simply, that Mary refused to give any answer, without expressing the condition annexed by her. My reasons were, that the position was sufficiently qualified by the preceding narration; and because a refusal, grounded on a condition which the person does not expect to be gratified, and which is accordingly denied, is certainly equivalent to a simple and absolute refusal.

"That your lordship may judge of the unfairness of the answerer, he picks out this simple and unqualified expression of mine, and omits the others, which explain it to the readers of the meanest capacity; and he opposes it by a passage cited with equal unfairness from Mr. Goodall's appendix. He quotes a long passage from Goodall, p. 308, in which Queen Mary demands copies of her letters, and offers positively to give an answer without mentioning any conditions; and this detached passage he opposes to the detached passage from me, in which I assert that she absolutely refused to answer. He desires that this express contradiction between my narration and the records may be remarked. But, in the first place, the condition of being admitted to Queen Elizabeth, though not mentioned in that paper, is not relinquished, and it is even clearly implied; because Mary there refers to a former letter, which we find in Goodall, p. 283, line 2, from the bottom, page 289, line 13, and where it is positively insisted on. Secondly, we have in Goodall, page 184, Queen Mary's commission to break up the conference, if that condition be not granted. Thirdly, Queen Elizabeth understands her meaning very well, as indeed it was very plain, and offers to her copies of the letters, if she will promise to answer without any condition; see Goodall, page 311, line 3, and this offer is not accepted of. Fourthly, in the very last paper of all, which closes the whole, the Bishop of Ross still insists on that condition; Goodall, page 390 about the middle.

"You see, therefore, my lord, the double trick practised. A mangled passage of my History is confronted with a mangled passage of Mr. Goodall's papers, and by this gross fraud a contradiction is pretended to be found between them. A single forgery would not do the business.

"I believe it will divert your lordship to observe, that when the answerer is employing these base artifices, this is the very moment he chooses to call me liar and rascal. But that trick is so frequently practised by thieves, pick-pockets, and controversial writers, (gentlemen whose morality are pretty much upon a footing,) that all the world has ceased to wonder, and wise men are tired of complaining of it.

"I do not find that even this gentleman has ventured to assert, that Queen Mary offered to answer Murray's accusation, though she should be refused access to Queen Elizabeth. Where then is the difference between us? He asserts, that she offered to answer, if admitted to that queen. I say that she refused to answer unless she was admitted, which are positive and negative propositions of the same import.

"For a proof that Queen Mary's commission was finally revoked, I beg your lordship to consult Goodall, p. 184, 311, 387, where it is plainly asserted. The last quotation is from the concluding paper of the whole collection.

"I hope your lordship, as my friend, will congratulate me on the resolution I took in the beginning of my life, that is, of my literary life, never to reply to any body. Otherwise this gentleman, I mean this author, might have insulted me on my silence. I am sure your lordship would have disowned me for ever as a friend, if I had entered the lists with such an antagonist. Mr. Goodall is no very calm or indifferent advocate in this cause; yet he disowns him as an associate, and confesses to me and all the world, that I am here right in my facts, and am only wrong in my inferences.

"There appear to me two infallible marks of our opposite parties, and as we may say proof charges, which, if a man can stand, there is no fear that any charge will ever burst him. A Whig who believes the popish plot, and a Tory who asserts Queen Mary's innocence, are certainly fitted to go all lengths with their party. I am happy to think that such people are both equally my enemies; and still more happy, that I have no animosity at either.

"It is an old proverb, _Love me, love my dog_; but certainly it admits of many exceptions. I am sure, at least, that I have a great respect for your lordship, yet have none at all for this dog of yours. On the contrary, I declare him to be a very mangy cur; entreat your lordship to rid your hands of him as soon as possible, and think a sound beating, or even a rope too good for him."[256:1]

Lord Elibank's answer does not appear to have been preserved. It can scarcely be supposed that the foregoing letter, or any one written in a like spirit, is the communication which Hume characterizes in the following letter as written "in a spirit of cordiality and amity," and containing "every pathetic, every engaging sentiment and expression;" yet we afterwards find Lord Elibank sarcastically alluding to his having been so stupid as to mistake the spirit thus described, for one of a totally opposite tendency.

HUME _to_ LORD ELIBANK.

"_Fontainbleau, 3d Nov. 1764._

"MY LORD,--In reply to the letter with which your lordship has honoured me, I shall endeavour to be as clear and as concise as possible. Your lordship should never have heard of the short and slight disgust between your brother and me, had he not told Sir James Macdonald that you was in such a passion against me, on account of my conduct towards him, that you intended instantly to compose a pamphlet against me, on the subject of Queen Mary, and to publish it as a full revenge upon me. You see that he insinuates the same thing in his letter, and he says that you was _formerly my friend_. But the whole story, I have now reason to see, was without foundation, both from the tenor of your lordship's present letter, and from a letter of yours delivered to me by Mons. Calvet, and which is wrote in the usual friendly strain that had so long subsisted between us. But not doubting at that time of Mr. Murray's story, I dreaded the consequence of a pamphlet composed and published by one of your lordship's temper in a fit of rage, on a subject where you are naturally heated. I knew that it would be full of expressions of the utmost acrimony, which you yourself could not forgive, even were I disposed to do so; and I may now add, that this last letter proves you to be an excellent proficient in that style. I wrote my letter in a spirit of cordiality and amity, that I might prevent a rupture most disagreeable to me. I have no objection to the publishing any thing in opposition to my opinions. On the contrary, there is nothing I desire more than these discussions. I was far from threatening your lordship with the loss of my friendship, which I was sensible could never be of any consequence to you: I only foretold with infinite regret, that if you wrote against me in a heat, without allowing your temper to compose itself, it would be impossible for us to be any longer friends. I employed every pathetic, every engaging sentiment and expression to induce your lordship to embrace this way of thinking. I shall venture to say, that you have never in your life received a more friendly and more obliging letter. I leave your lordship to judge of the return it has met with.

"I composed my letter with great care, because I set a value on your lordship's friendship. I was so much satisfied with it myself, that I read it to a friend, who told me, that it would be impossible for your lordship to resist so many mollifying expressions, and that they would certainly bring you back to our usual state of friendship. Under what power of fascination have your eyes lain, when you could see every thing in a light so directly opposite?

"I come now to the other ground of your complaint, my indifference in the case of Mr. Murray. When I arrived in Paris, the first question he asked me was, whether Lord Bute or Mr. Stuart Mackenzie had recommended him to Lord Hertford, that he might be received in the ambassador's house like other British subjects. I asked my lord, who told me that neither of these persons had ever mentioned Mr. Murray to him; he wished they had; he desired to show all manner of civilities to Mr. Murray. But he was afraid, that a person against whom a public proclamation had been issued, and who had openly lived so many years with the Pretender, could not be received in his house, unless he had previously received some assurances, that the matter would give no offence. I told this to Mr Murray. He was entirely satisfied. He only said that he would write again to Mr. Stuart Mackenzie, who never wrote to Lord Hertford. In this affair, then, Mr. Murray received all the favour which he either desired or expected.

"But perhaps your lordship means, that I ought to have befriended him in his law-suit with Mrs. Blake,--I suppose, by taking his part in company. But who told you that I did not? I have frequently desired people in general to suspend their judgment; for as to any particular justification of him, I was not capable of it, because I was and still am ignorant of all particulars of his story. Whence could I learn them? From himself, or from his antagonist, or from both? I assure your lordship that I was otherwise employed, and more to my satisfaction, than in unravelling an intricate story, which the Parliament of Paris could not clear up in much less than two years, and which, it is pretended, they have not cleared up at last.

"But I need say no more on this head, since your brother a few days after I wrote you sent me a letter, in which he asked pardon for his former letter, acknowledged his error, and desired a return of my friendship. His only ground of quarrel, indeed, was a small negligence in returning his visits: an offence which, operating on a man of his vanity, has engaged him to do all this mischief.

"I have said that your lordship never received a letter more friendly and obliging than my former letter: I hope you will also acknowledge that this is wrote with sufficient temper and moderation. Adieu.

"I have the honour to be, with the greatest regard and consideration, my lord, your lordship's most obedient, and most humble servant."[260:1]

LORD ELIBANK _to_ HUME.

_Balancrief, July 9th, 1765._

DEAR SIR,--I have the pleasure to understand, by yours of the
----, that I have never been altogether in disgrace with you;
I choose rather to pass for dull as mad, and it would have
been the highest proof of the latter, if I had taken any thing
ill of you, that I had not thought ill meant.

I own the compliment you say you intended me in your former
letter, was too refined for my genius. I really mistook it for
an intention to break with me; and as there is hardly any
thing I set a greater value on than your friendship, and I was
not conscious of having ever entertained a single idea
inconsistent with it, I could not resign it without pain and
resentment. Diffident of myself, I showed your letter to
several of our common friends, who all understood it as I did.
Had my affection for you been more moderate, my answer to
yours would have been cool in proportion. I am still mortified
to think you could suspect me of siding with my brother
against you. I know the distinction between relationship and
friendship. I have ever thought those connexions incompatible;
and if I was dull enough to mistake the meaning of your
letter, I have not more reason to blush, than you have for
suspecting, that any thing my brother could say, was capable
of influencing my sincere regard for a friend of thirty years'
standing, or that my zeal for the reputation of any prince,
dead or alive, could draw any sentiment or expression from me,
inconsistent with that admiration of your talents, as an
author, and merit as a man, I have constantly felt in myself,
and endeavoured to excite in others. I am, dear sir, your
sincerely obedient humble servant,

ELIBANK.[260:2]

In fear lest the two letters to Elliot, printed above,[261:1] might not have reached their destination, Hume wrote to him again on 17th November, repeating the substance of his engagement with the Abbé Choquart. The remainder of the letter follows:

HUME _to_ GILBERT ELLIOT _of Minto_.

"As soon as I came from Fontainbleau, I went to the Pension Militaire, so it is called, where I had first a conversation with the Abbé. I found him exceedingly pleased with your boys: he told me that whenever his two young pupils arrived, he called together all the French gentlemen, who are to the number of thirty or thirty-two, and he made them a harangue; he then said to them, that they were all men of quality, to be educated to the honourable profession of arms; that all their wars would probably be with England; that France and that kingdom, were Rome and Carthage, whose rivality more properly than animosity never allowed long intervals of peace; that the chance of arms might make them prisoners of arms to Messrs Elliot, in which case it would be a happiness to them to meet a private friend in a public enemy; that he knew many instances of people whose lives were saved by such fortunate events, and it therefore became them, from views of prudence, and from the generosity for which the French nation was so renowned, to give the best treatment to the young strangers, whose friendship might probably endure, and be serviceable to them through life: he added, that the effect of this harangue was such, that, as soon as he presented your boys to their companions, they all flew to them and embraced them, and have ever since continued to pay them all courtship and regard, and to show them every mark of preference. Every one is ambitious to acquire the friendship of the two young Englishmen, who have already formed connexions more intimate than ever I observed among his other pupils. '_Ce que j'admire_,' added he, '_dans vos jeunes amis est qu'ils ont non seulement de l'esprit, mais de l'âme. Ils sont véritablement attendris des témoinages d'amitié qu'on leur rend. Ils méritent d'être aimés, parce qu'ils savent aimer._'

"When I came next to converse with your boys, I found all this representation exactly just: I believe they never passed fourteen days in their life so happily as they did the last. What I find strikes them much is the high titles of their companions: there is not one, says Hugh, that is not a marquis, or count, or chevalier at least. They are indeed all of them of the best families in France, a nephew of M. de Choiseul, two nephews of M. de Beninghen, &c. &c. They are frequently drawn out, and displayed after the Prussian manner. I saw them go through their exercises with the greatest exactness and best air. The Abbé remarked to me, that the marching, and wheeling, and moving under arms, is better than all the dancing schools in the world to give a noble carriage to youth. Gilbert is such a proficient, that the master is thinking already of advancing him to the first rank, if not of making him a corporal: all this is excellent for Hugh, and if Gilbert's head be a little too full with military ideas, this inconvenience will easily be corrected, as far as it ought to be corrected.

"The Abbé tells me, that in the short time they have been with him, their accent is sensibly corrected, and he is persuaded that, in three months' time, it will not be possible to distinguish them from Frenchmen. They are never to hear mass, but to attend at the ambassador's chapel every Sunday. Such is the general account I have to give you; their preceptor will be more particular, and I shall visit them from time to time."[263:1]

FOOTNOTES:

[209:1] The confidence with which the great aristocracy of birth mingled with whatever elements it thought fit, is perhaps the best evidence of the security it felt in the haughty and arbitrary exercise of its established privileges. With all this free equality of social intercourse, however, there must have been something yet left to which the mere guest was not admitted, and to which he never aspired. Without this, it seems impossible that Actors,--menials by the etiquette of the court, anathematized by the church, held incapable of giving evidence in some courts of law as persons of infamous profession,--should have been so much sought after and caressed. Thus the Le Kains, Fleurys, and Prévilles, among the men; the Sophy Arnoulds, Dumesnils, Clairons, among the women, many of them thorough profligates, are to be found haunting places surrounded by the highest lustre of adventitious rank, busying themselves with state secrets, mingling in family disputes, and always with the easy assurance of their profession. This state of matters could not have existed unless the aristocracy, notwithstanding the ease with which they permitted themselves to be approached, were able effectually to mark precisely the point where the advance was to stop, and could feel themselves among persons, who, like old family servants, never presume upon familiarity. In admitting to social intercourse, however, a person of Hume's dignity of character and position in literature, there could be no such reserves, and the intercourse must have been as really on terms of familiarity as it appeared to be.

[211:1] The following is a specimen, of a letter to Hume:--

Among other like distinctions, an author had offered to dedicate to her his Italian Grammar. She answered, "A moi, Monsieur; la dédicace d'une grammaire! à moi qui ne sais pas seulement l'orthographe." "C'était la pure vérité," subjoins Marmontel.

[213:1] This active lady visited Voltaire, and succeeded in getting access to him. It is said that the patriarch laboured hard to compose a quatrain in her praise, but that the muse would not attend for such a purpose. He solved the difficulty very ingeniously, by twisting some laurel twigs into a wreath, and placing it on her brow.

She writes to Hume, on 27th September, 1764, "Je vous présente monsieur un receuil de mes ouvrages nouvellement imprimé à Lyon, pour avoir l'honneur d'être dans la bibliothèque d'un homme qui fait l'honneur de notre siècle. Je vous supplie d'accepter ce faible don, et de vouloir bien faire passer le paquet que vous trouverez c'y joint au Marquis Caraccioli Ministre de Naples à Londres."--MS. R.S.E.

[214:1] The following note shows that there was some intercourse between them, though it was probably not very extensive.

"Madame la D. de Choiseul a très bien reçu les compliments de Mr. Hume. Elle se reproche de ne lui avoir point écrit. Elle m'a chargée de lui dire que s'il vouloit la venir voir aujourd'hui sur le midi et demy une heure[214:A] qu'il lui feroit beaucoup de plaisir. Madame du Deffand l'exhorte de ne pas manquer à y aller, et elle le prie de faire souvenir Madame de Choiseul de la promesse qu'elle lui a faite de la venir voir avant la visite qu'elle veut rendre à Madame L'Ambassadrice."--MS. R.S.E.

[214:A] Sic in MS.

[214:2] "Vous me faites un grand plaisir de m'apprendre que David Hume va en Ecosse; je suis bien aise que vous ne soyez plus à portée de le voir, et moi ravie de l'assurance de ne le revoir jamais. Vous me demanderez ce qu'il m'a fait? Il m'a déplu. Haïssant les idoles je déteste leurs prêtres et leurs adorateurs. Pour d'idoles, vous n'en verrez pas chez moi: vous y pourrez voir quelquefois de leurs adorateurs, mais qui sont plus hypocrites que dévots; leur culte est extérieur; les pratiques, les cérémonies de cette religion sont des soupers, des musiques, des opéras, des comédies, etc." Letters of the Marquise du Deffand, vol. i. p. 331.

[216:1]

"C'est avec la plus grande joie que M. D'Angiviller a
l'honneur d'informer Monsr. Hume que la philosophie n'a plus
de larmes à répandre. D'Alembert est comme hors d'affaire. Il
a été transporté chez Watelet. Il s'en trouve fort bien: il
plaisante, il dit de bons mots et s'impatiente. Tout cela est
de bon augure. Duclos a dit assez plaisamment le jour que l'on
a transporté le malade chez Watelet. Voicy un jour
remarquable, c'est aujourd'huy que l'on a sevré D'Alembert;
nous sommes surs au moins qu'il n'y a pas de miracle à cette
guérison; les prêtres n'ont pas prié pour lui. Mr.
D'Angiviller a l'honneur d'assurer Monsieur Hume de
l'attachement profond et de la vénération dont il est pénétré
pour lui."

"_Ce Mardi 30._"

The Earl Marischal writes thus:--

"_Potsdam, 11th September, 1764._

"Le plaisir de votre lettre, et l'assurance d'amitié de Madame
Geoffrin et de Monsieur D'Alembert a été bien rabattu par ce
que vous me dites de l'état de la santé de M. D'Alembert.
Sobre comme il est à table--comment peut-il avoir des maux
d'estomac? Il faut qu'il travaille trop de la tête à des
calculs, ou qu'il allume sa chandelle par les deux bouts.
C'est cela sans doute. Renvoyez-le ici à mon hermitage. Je le
rendrai à sa, ou ses belles, frais, reposé, se portant à
merveille.

"Apropos de mon hermitage dont M. de Malsan vous a fait la
description, il a voyagé avec Panurge, et a été chez _oui-dire
tenant école de temorgnerie_. Primo, ma petite maison ne
subsiste pas--par conséquence mon grand hôte ne pouvoit m'y
honorer de sa présence. 2do, Elle ne sera pas si petite, ayant
89 pieds de façade avec deux ailes de 45 pieds de long. Le
jardin est petit, assez grand cependant pour moi, et j'ai une
clef pour entrer aux jardins de Sans-Souci. Il y aura une
belle salle avec un vestibule, et un cabinet assez grand pour
y mettre un lit, tout apart des autres apartements. Si
D'Alembert venoit, il pouroit y loger, et prendre les eaux;
mais il est peu-que probable, que le grand hôte me
disputeroit, et emporteroit cet avantage. En attendant son
arrivée, j'y logerai mon ancien ami Michel de Montaigne,
Ariosto, Voltaire, Swift, et quelques autres.

"Dites à D'Alembert que j'ai une vache pour lui donner de bon
lait. Cela le contentera plus que les cent mille roubles qu'on
lui a offert. N'a pas bon lait qui veut, et vir sapiens non
abhorrebit eam, comme disoit Maître Janotus de ses chausses."

[218:1] If we are to trust the story told by Marmontel, and repeated by others who should be equally well informed, her conduct, put in plain language, comes to this. That she had made up her mind to raise her position by a distinguished marriage. That in this view, looking to one object after another, she finally determined boldly to experiment on M. Mora, the son of the Spanish ambassador. That as this young gentleman had been recalled by his family to Spain, she fraudulently procured a certificate from an eminent physician, to the effect that a return to the climate of France was essential to his safety; and that he died on his journey back. But not less singular than the tale itself, is the good-humoured simplicity with which it is told, as something rather commendable than otherwise. Marmontel tells it, not omitting to state how he used to run to the post-office for M. Mora's letters, in the midst of that amusing series of sketches, the leading charm of which is their amiable author's utter unconsciousness that his narrative is ever likely to be scrutinized by people so educated and trained, as to look upon his pleasant frailties as detestable vices, and the whole system of society, so loveable and interesting in his eyes, as hideous. These things indeed are mysteries; and read and ponder as we may, we cannot enter into their spirit, but must view them as strange, distant, and unnatural objects.

There is reason, however, to believe, that Marmontel's account of L'Espinasse is far from being accurate. See the article on Deffand's and L'Espinasse's letters, in _The Edinburgh Review_, vol. xv. p. 459, where, as also in the article, vol. xvii. p. 290, a fuller view of the character of the French literary circles of that day will be found than any where else in the English language. The doubts of Marmontel's accuracy in the former of these articles, are singularly confirmed by the Memoires of Marmontel's uncle-in-law, Morellet, published in 1832, see vol. ii. p. 276.

[220:1] Memoirs of Romilly, i. 179. I have seen this anecdote in some French book, but do not remember where.

[221:1] Madame de Genlis has preserved an instance of the magnificent gallantry of the prince. Madame Blot, the same lady probably who occupies so curious a place in the Chesterfield correspondence, expressed a wish to have a picture of her canary-bird set in a ring. The prince desired to have the felicity of accomplishing her wish, and she consented, provided the ring were of plain gold without ornament. The ring when it made its appearance was plain indeed, but the portrait was covered by a large diamond cut flat like glass. Madame Blot preserved the ring and the picture, but returned the diamond. The prince pounded the diamond to powder, and wrote the lady a letter strewed with the diamond dust as drying sand.

[221:2] The following specimen of the invitations which poured in upon Hume during his sojourn in Paris, is a slight departure from the usual received form of such documents, the functionary who had charge of the despatches of the august entertainer having chosen to make it the vehicle of his own good taste in literature, and knowledge of the English language.

"M. Le Prince Louis de Rohan prie M. Hume de lui faire l'honneur de venir dîner chez lui. Mardi, 17 Janvier--"

"M. L'Abbé Georgel fait un million de complimens à M. Hume. _He makes great account of his works, admires her wit, and loves her person._"

"Samedy, 14."--MS. R.S.E.

[222:1] MS. R.S.E.

[223:1] Hardy's Memoirs of Charlemont, p. 122.

[223:2] "Ce qu'il y a encore de plaisant, c'est que toutes les jolies femmes se le sont arraché, et que le gros philosophe Ecossais s'est plu dans leur société. C'est un excellent homme, que David Hume; il est naturellement serein, il entend finement, il dit quelquefois avec sel, quoiqu'il parle peu; mais il est lourd, il n'a ni chaleur, ni grâce, ni agrément dans l'esprit, ni rien qui soit propre à s'allier au ramage de ces charmantes petites machines qu'on appelle jolies femmes. O que nous sommes un drôle de peuple!"--Correspondance Littéraire, 1ière P. vol. v. p. 125.

[224:1] "Le célèbre David Hume, grand et gros historiographe d'Angleterre, connu et estimé par ses écrits, n'a pas autant de talens pour ce genre d'amusemens auquel toutes nos jolies femmes l'avoient décidé propre. Il fit son début chez Madame de T----; on lui avoit destiné le rôle d'un Sultan assis entre deux esclaves, employant toute son éloquence pour s'en faire aimer; les trouvant inexorables, il devoit chercher le sujet de leurs peines, et de leur résistance: on le place sur un sopha entre les deux plus jolies femmes de Paris, il les regarde attentivement, il se frappe le ventre et les genoux à plusieurs reprises, et ne trouve jamais autre chose à leur dire que: '_Eh bien! mes demoiselles...Eh bien! vous voilà donc...Eh bien! vous voilà...vous voilà ici?_' Cette phrase dura un quart d'heure, sans qu'il pût en sortir. Une d'elles se leva d'impatience: Ah! dit elle, je m'en étois bien doutée, cet homme n'est bon qu'à manger du veau! Depuis ce temps il est relégué au rôle de spectateur, et n'en est pas moins fêté et cajolé. C'est en vérité une chose plaisante que le rôle qu'il joue ici; malheureusement pour lui ou plutôt pour la dignité philosophique, car, pour lui, il paroît s'accommoder fort de ce train de vie; il n'y avoit aucune manie dominante dans ce pays lorsqu'il y est arrivé; on l'a regardé comme une trouvaille dans cette circonstance, et l'effervescence de nos jeunes têtes s'est tourné de son côté. Toutes les jolies femmes s'en sont emparées; il est de tous les soupers fins, et il n'est point de bonne fête sans lui; en un mot, il est pour nos agréables ce que les Génevois sont pour moi."--Mémoires et Correspondance de Madame d'Epinay, vol. iii. p. 284.

[225:1] Letters, collected edition, v. 69.

[225:2] Ib. 73.

[225:3] Ib. 77.

[226:1] Ib. 90-91. He was not then aware that Hume's presence was destined to afford him an opportunity of becoming "the mode" himself. This he tells us was the effect of his jeu d'esprit on Rousseau, with which we shall hereafter have concern; and he tells it in a manner which shows that, however contemptible when set in the brow of David Hume, the chaplet of fashionable renown was not felt to be unbecoming on his own. Thus, he says to Mr. Conway, on 12th January, 1766, "I almost repent having come hither, for I like the way of life and many of the people so well, that I doubt I shall feel more regret at leaving Paris than I expected. It would sound vain to tell you the honours and distinctions I receive, and how much I am in fashion. Yet when they come from the handsomest women in France, and the most respectable in point of character, can one help being a little proud? If I was twenty years younger, I should wish they were not quite so respectable. Madame de Brionne, whom I have never seen, and who was to have met me at supper last night, at the charming Madame D'Egmont's, sent me an invitation by the latter for Wednesday next. I was engaged and hesitated: I was told, 'Comment! savez-vous que c'est qu'elle ne feroit pas pour toute La France.' However, lest you should dread my returning a perfect old swain, I study my wrinkles, compare myself and my limbs to every plate of larks I see, and treat my understanding with at least as little mercy. Yet, do you know, my present fame is owing to a very trifling composition, but which has made incredible noise. I was one evening at Madame Geoffrin's, joking on Rousseau's affectations and contradictions, and said some things that diverted them. When I came home I put them into a letter, and showed it next day to Helvetius, and the Duke de Nivernois, who were so pleased with it, that, after telling me some faults in the language, which you may be sure there were, they encouraged me to let it be seen. As you know I willingly laugh at mountebanks, political or literary, let their talents be ever so great, I was not averse. The copies have spread like wildfire, _et me voici à la mode_. I expect the end of my reign, at the end of the week, with great composure." (Ib. 118-119.)

One is tempted to give, as part of the whole picture of the visit of the two Englishmen, a few of Walpole's notices of his own intense modesty. Thus: "I had had my share of distresses in the morning, by going through the operation of being presented to the royal family, down to the little madame's pap dinner, and had behaved as sillily as you will easily believe, hiding myself behind every mortal. The queen called me up to her dressing-table, and seemed mightily disposed to gossip with me; but instead of enjoying my glory like Madame de Sévigné, I slunk back into the crowd after a few questions. She told Monsieur de Guerchy of it afterwards, and that I had run away from her, but said she would have her revenge at Fontainbleau; so I must go thither, which I did not intend." Ib. 81-82. So when writing to Gray, after giving a description of the effect which his wicked wit had produced on Madame de Boufflers and the Prince of Conti, how she "with a tone of sentiment, and the accents of lamenting humanity, abused me heartily, and then complained to myself with the utmost softness," and how he "acted contrition, but had like to have spoiled all, by growing dreadfully tired of a second lecture from the Prince of Conti, who had taken up the tale;" he concludes, "but when I left a triumphant party in England, I did not come hither to be at the head of a fashion. However, I have been sent for about like an African prince or a learned canary bird; and was, in particular, carried by force to the Princess of Talmond, the queen's cousin, who lives in a charitable apartment in the Luxembourg, and was sitting on a small bed hung with saints and Sobieskis, in a corner of one of those vast chambers, by two blinking tapers." (Ib. 130-131.)

Hume's simple and self-satisfied account of the distinctions conferred on him, and the gratification they afforded him, has met with considerable ridicule. But the reader may judge for himself which is the more honest, manly, and dignified: the plain acknowledgment of distinctions conferred and appreciated, or this hollow profession of contempt for unsolicited, unexpected, unenjoyed honours.

[228:1] MS. R.S.E. The Sir James alludes to Sir James Macdonald.

[229:1] MS. R.S.E.

[230:1] MS. R.S.E.

[231:1] MS. R.S.E.

[233:1] MS. R.S.E.

[233:2] The elder of the youths here mentioned, who became afterwards an eminent statesman, was born in 1751. He was for some time attached to the Fox party, and after the dissolution of the Fox and North coalition ministry, he was twice unsuccessfully proposed as Speaker. In 1793, he was selected for the delicate duty of negotiating with the French Royalists. During the British sovereignty of Corsica, in 1794, he was appointed viceroy or governor of the island. But the most brilliant and the best known chapter in his political career, is his policy as Governor-general of India, from 1807 to 1814. He was created Baron Minto in 1797, and Earl of Minto in 1813. He died in 1814.

[234:1] Probably either the young Comte de Boufflers, the son of the lady who was Hume's correspondent, or Sir James Macdonald.

[235:1] MS. R.S.E.

[237:1] Among Hume's papers there is a letter signed "De Bastide, auteur d'un Maison d'Éducation," thanking him for the favourable disposition shown towards him, and desiring an interview.

[238:1] In allusion to the interest taken by the Comtesse de Boufflers in his being appointed secretary of legation. See _postea_.

[239:1] Minto MSS. The tone of this letter extracted the following criticism from Elliot.