THE life of Hume was one of much social enjoyment. When his pecuniary affairs had a little improved, he became a singularly happy man. "I was," says he, "ever more disposed to see the favourable than the unfavourable side of things-a turn of mind which it is more happy to possess than to be born to ten thousand a-year." In our March number, we mentioned that within two years of his being appointed keeper of the Advocates' Library, he published the first volume of his "History of the House of Stuart;" and in 1756, the second volume containing"The History of England, from the Death of Charles I. to the Revolution." We then endeavoured to show the origin of what we regard as some of the heresies in Hume's political creed, and we have little doubt, that had Hume commenced his studies with any earlier period of English history, he could not, with the same plausibility, have vindicated his notion of all power in the people being usurpations on the prerogative. The "History of the House of Stuart," was followed by that of "Tudor"-and the earlier part of the "History of England" was that which was last given to the public. It is in every respect the worst. The clamour against the "House of Tudor" was as great as that against his first volume. "The reign of Elizabeth," he says, 66 'was particularly obnoxious." The volumes which relate the Anglo-Saxon story, and the fortunes of England, till the accession of Henry the Seventh, "met with tolerable, and but tolerable success." The last volume was published in 1761-six years from the publication of the first.

In the interval between the publication of the first and second volumes, appeared his "Natural History of Religion." The book was a failure—

but Hume's disappointment was, he says, lessened by the gratifying circumstance that it was answered by Hurd.

In 1762, we find Hume speaking to his friends of the large sums given him for the copyright of the successive portions of his history; and he mentions the comfort of having set up a chaise. "I was become not only independent, but opulent. I retired to my native country, determined never to set foot out of it, and retaining the satisfaction of never having preferred a request to one great man, or even making advances of friendship to any of them." The plans of a literary man are as likely to be disturbed as those of any other, and Hume, though without solicitation on his part, was destined to be indebted to the great. In 1763, the Earl of Hertford, with whom Hume was not in the slightest degree acquainted, was sent as ambassador to Paris, and invited Hume to accompany him, holding out the expectation which was eventually realised, of Hume becoming secretary to the embassy. Hume

declined the offer at first, but on its being repeated, suffered himself to be prevailed on. In 1765, Lord Hertford became Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Hume, was left for some months " chargé d'affaires."

Hume's reception in Parisian soci. ety is mentioned by him with extravagant delight. His reputation had preceded him, and his entire freedom from affectation or pretence of any kind completed the charm. His works too were known by translationswere probably more read than in England-and certainly with greater sympathy. The admiration with which Hume had been regarded on the continent for some years, was, some short time before, pleasantly manifested to

him by a correspondence with Madame de Boufflers, which was commenced by that lady, on reading his "History of the House of Stuart." The biographer of Hume guards us against confounding this lady, whose name was Hippolite de Saujon, Comtesse de Boufflers Rouvel, with the Marquise de Boufflers Rémencourt, mother of the Count de Boufflers. Among the distinguishing circumstances one was, that Hume's correspondent was mistress of the Prince de Conti, while the other ornamented the court of Stanislaus Augustus, in the same recognized relation. On the dissolute state of society, which the fact of ladies in such relations being leaders of fashion, and received every where, implies, there can be but one opinion in these countries; but Mr. Burton well observes, that in judging of the individual, the feelings of the society in which life is passed, must be our standard.

"There is," says he, "a great difference between those who act up to the standard of a low social system, and those who do the same acts in breach of a higher one. A Mahometan, with his harem in Constantinople, is inferior in his tone of morality to an English gentleman of good domestic conduct; but he is infinitely superior to an Englishman with his harem in Piccadilly."

Between Hume and this lady a correspondence commenced in 1761. Her first letter is amusing.

"I am a woman," she says, "not old; and in spite of the frivolity and dissipation in which we all live here, there is scarcely a good book in any language that I have not read either in the original or in translations; and I assure you, monsieur, with a sincerity which you cannot suspect or distrust, that I have never met with any book which, in my judgment, combines so many perfections as yours."

This was likely to do, and it did catch the fat philosopher. She then tells him what she thinks of Cromwell and Charles, and civil and religious liberty; and again she returns to David Hume-every thing from whose pen shows him to be the perfect philosopher and statesman, an historian full of genius, an enlightened politician, and a genuine patriot. This letter was

written at a time when she had no ac

quaintance whatever with Hume; nor does it appear that they had one friend in common. A woman of genius can do any thing; and in the postscript to this first letter she invites him to Paris. Hume's replies to these letters are those of a man greatly gratified; but the correspondence soon languishes, and would probably have died away after the first expression of mutual admiration, if it were not that she became interested for Rousseau, and wrote to Hume about him at the same period that he was pressed on Hume's notice by another friend-the exiled Earl Marischal of Scotland, who was banished for the rebellion of 1715, and was then governor of Neufchatel. In 1715, he must have been a mere boy; and when he wrote to Hume, he had become a foreigner to such an extent as to find a difficulty in writing English. He was a singularly good-natured man, and he thought to have served both Hume and Rousseau by promoting the unfortunate acquaintance which was probably the most vexatious circumstance in all Hume's life. But to dwell on Rousseau now would be to anticipate. Hume arrived in France on the 14th of October, 1763. It is scarce surprising that he was received with great distinction. Of English literature, the French at the time absolutely knew nothing, except through the representations of Voltaire. Shakspeare, judged of by their canons of criticism, was a barbarian of some genius, considering his age and country. Milton was something, but not much better. In the literature of England, however, there was much of promise. The only admirable things that had been done were by Addison, whose drama of Cato atoned, by its studious regularity, for the insults offered by Shakspeare to all true taste, and whose Campaign was, in spite of its subject, recognized as a great national epic. Addison's rank in society was one of the reasons why his literary claims were freely admitted; and this same feeling now operated favourably for Hume. That a great philosopher should have been born in Edinburgh, an obscure town, the name of which no one in Paris could pronounce or spell, was itself little short of a miracle. That such a man should, in their own walk, be able to take the lead of

the Voltaires and Diderots, enhanced the wonder; and that he should appear in the best society as an equal, and not resting on any doubtful claims of literary merit-claims which might be as capriciously denied as admitted— was one of those things that could not often occur, and its occurrence was therefore the more readily greeted. Previous even to Hume's arrival in France, he had received several letters describing the actual adoration with which he seemed to be regarded by that strange people. Lord Elibank writes to him (May 11, 1763): "No author ever yet attained to that degree of reputation in his own lifetime that you are now in possession of at Paris." In a letter from Andrew Stuart to Sir William Johnstone (16th December, 1762), he says:—

"Tell Hume he is so much worshipped here, that he must be void of all passions, if he does not immediately take post for Paris. In most houses where I am acquainted here, one of the first questions is, do you know Monsieur Hume, whom we all admire so much? I dined yesterday at Helvetius's, where this same Monsieur Hume interrupted our conversation very much."

In a letter to Smith, Hume himself describes the honours he had received:

"MY DEAR SMITH-I have been three days at Paris, and two at Fontainbleau, and have every where met with the most extraordinary honours, which the most exorbitant vanity could wish or desire. The compliments of dukes and marischals of France, and foreign ambassadors, go for nothing with me at present. I retain a relish for no kind of flattery but that which comes from the ladies. All the courtiers, who stood around when I was introduced to Madame de Pompadour, assured me that she was never heard to say so much to any man; and her brother, to whom she introduced me, —— But I forget already that I am to scorn all the civilities of men. However, even Madame Pompadour's civilities were, if possible, exceeded by those of the Duchesse de Choiseul, the wife of the favourite and prime minister, and one of the ladies of the most distinguished merit in France. Not contented with the many obliging

Some words obliterated.

things she said to me on my first introduction, she sent to call me from the other end of the room, in order to repeat them, and to enter into a short conversation with me; and not contented with that, she sent the Danish ambassador after me, to assure me that what she said was not from politeness, but that she seriously desired to be in friendship There is and correspondence with me.

not a courtier in France who would not have been transported with joy to have had the half of these obliging things said to him by either of these great ladies. But what may appear more ex. traordinary, both of them, as far as I could conjecture, have read with some care all my writings that have been translated into French-that is, almost all my writings. The king said nothing particular to me when I was introduced to him; and (can you imagine it?) I was become so silly as to be a little mortified by it, till they told me that he never says any thing to any body the first time he sees them. The Dauphin, as I am told from all hands, declares himself on every occasion very strongly in my favour; and many people assure me that I have reason to be proud of his judgment, even were he an individual. I have scarce seen any of the geniuses of Paris, who, I think, have in general great merit, as men of letters. But every body is forward to tell me the high panegyrics I receive from them; and you may believe that —† approbation which has procured me all these civilities from the courtiers.

"I know you are ready to ask me, my dear friend, if all this does not make me very happy. No, I feel little or no difference. As this is the first letter I write to my friends at home, I have amused myself (and I hope I have amused you) by giving you a very abridged account of these transactions. But can I ever forget that it is the very same species that would scarce show me common civilities a few years ago at Edinburgh, who now receive me with such applauses at Paris ?"

Hume's income was considerably increased by a pension procured for him by the interest of Lord Hertford; and the hope of becoming secretary to the embassy added to his comforts, as it gave the near expectation of a thousand a year additional, and—

enjoyments. Yet I am sensible that I set out too late, and that I am misplaced; and I wish twice, or thrice, a day, for my easy-chair and my retreat in James's Court. Never think, dear Ferguson, that as long as you are master of your own fireside and your own time, you can be unhappy, or that any other circumstance can make an addition to your enjoyment." . . “I know nothing that is necessary to happiness but cordiality, and the talent of finding diversion in all places. I remember, somewhere, a man's being told that he was too nice, because he could not dine on a ragout, and must have cold mutton."

the reading of many passages in my works. When he had finished, his brother, the Count de P. [Provence, afterwards Louis XVIII.,] who is two years younger, began his discourse, and informed me, that I had been long and impatiently expected in France; and that he himself expected soon to have great satisfaction from the reading of my fine history. But what is more curious; when I was carried thence to the Count D'A. [D'Artois, afterwards Charles X.,] who is but four years of age, I heard him mumble something which, though he had forgot in the way, I conjectured, from some scattered words, to have been also a panegyric dictated to him. Nothing could more surprise my friends, the Parisian philosophers, than this incident.

tells him of a translator or translatrix, a Madame Belot, who had done his "House of Tudor," and was ready to do Robertson's or any other man's work. Hume praises her handicraft, but Grimm tells us of some strange blunders. Hume alludes somewhere to the Polish aristocracy, and Madame renders this "une aristocratie polie." Poor thing! Mr. Burton quotes a sentence from a French journal which tells of her in a year or two after, when she was living with the President Mesnieres, in a relation which, though not that of marriage, seems to have been recognized as one not utterly humbling. The president's taste is, however, called in question for his choice as "Cette dame est peu jeune ; elle est laide, seche et d'un esprit triste et mélancolique."

"Do you ask me," adds Hume, in the letter which mentions Madame Belot, "about my course of life? I can only say, that I eat nothing but ambrosia, drink nothing but nectar, breathe nothing but incense, and tread on nothing but flowers! Every man I meet, and, still more, every lady, would think they were wanting in the most indispensable duty, if they did not make a long and elaborate harangue in my praise. What happened last week, when I had the honour of being presented to the D————n's children, at Versailles, is one of the most curious scenes I have yet passed through. The Duc de Berry, the eldest, a boy of ten years old, stepped forth, and told me how many friends and admirers I had in this country, and that he reckoned himself in the number, from the pleasure he had received from VOL. XXVII.-No. 161.

It is conjectured that this honour was

D., who, indeed, is not on any occasion sparing in my praise.

"All this attention and panegyric was at first oppressive to me; but now it sits more easy. I have recovered,

in some measure, the use of the language, and am falling into friendships which are very agreeable; much more so than silly, distant admiration. They now begin to banter me, and tell droll stories of me, which they have either observed themselves, or have heard from others; so that you see I am beginning to be at home."

It is not surprising that Hume loved Paris. In a letter to Blair he tells of a masquerade to which he went with Lord Hertford :

"We went both unmasked; and we had scarce entered the room when a lady, in mask, came up to me and exclaimed:- Ha! Monsieur Hume, vous faites bien de venir ici a visage découvert. Que vous serez bien comblé ce soir d'honnêtetés et de politesses! Vous verrez, par des preuves peu équivoques, jusqu'à quel point vous êtes cheri en France.' This prologue was not a little encouraging; but, as we advanced through the hall, it is difficult to imagine the caresses, civilities, and panegyrics which poured on me from all sides. You would have thought that every one had taken advantage of his mask to speak his mind with impunity. I could observe that the ladies were rather the most liberal on this occasion. But what gave me chief pleasure was to find that most of the eulogiums bestowed on me, turned on personal character, my naivéte, and simplicity of manners, the candour and mildness of my disposition,

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