At present his journal, as he tells me, begins with getting up at eight, taking his breakfast and going to school, where he remains to eleven. Then to the High School Yard to play at Englishman and Scotsman, or the hare and the dogs; of which I take the merit, as I saved him from the writing-school at that hour. He returns to school at twelve, and continues till two: goes to writing between three
and four; and spends his evenings, as he tells me, in getting his school tasks, or in reading amusing books,—such as his uncle's history. In short, he is a very amiable boy, with quick parts, in my opinion as well as yours; and there is no doubt but he will do well. I am very glad of every thing that gives you pleasure,—even of some things that give you pain. From all accounts, both before and since you went to Paris, it might be foreseen that your reception, even from sincere as well as affected admirers, would amount to a degree of teasing. But all for the best, as my fellow philosopher, Pangloss, says. I don't care if you are "chassé de France à coups de complimens, et accablé en Angleterre à coups de richesse," so as not to find any rest to the soles of your feet out of Scotland. I would fain consider every accession to your fortune as so many dishes added to the future dinners in James's Court; and your eclat in France, as the forerunner of much variety of chosen and excellent wines from every quarter of that great kingdom. Meantime, though I like to lounge at firesides in practice, I have not, in speculation, that opinion you mention. 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. But I should not, perhaps, contradict you so flatly, nor rub so hard, considering how tender your sensibility will be grown after so many lenient applications.[176:1]
Hume to Dr. Robertson.
Paris, Dec. 1, 1763.
Dear Robertson,—Among other agreeable circumstances which attend me at Paris, I must mention that of having a lady for a translator; a woman of merit, the widow of an advocate.[176:2] She was, before, very poor, and known but to
few; but this work has got her reputation, and procured her a pension from the court, which sets her at ease. She tells me that she has got a habit of industry; and would continue, if I could point out to her any other English book she could undertake, without running the risk of being anticipated by any other translator. Your "History of Scotland" is translated, and is in the press; but I recommended to her your "History of Charles V.," and promised to write to you, in order to know when it would be printed, and to desire you to send over the sheets from London, as they come from the press; I should put them into her hands, and she would, by that means, have the start of every other translator.[177:1] My two volumes last published, are, at present, in the press. She has a very easy natural style: sometimes she mistakes the sense; but I now correct her manuscript, and should be happy to render you the same service, if my leisure permit me, as I hope it will.
Do you ask me 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 B., 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 the reading of many passages in my works. When he had finished, his brother, the Count de P., 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., 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.
It is conjectured that this honour was paid me by express order from the D.[178:1], who, indeed, is not on any occasion sparing in my praise.