"Our friend, I mean your friend, Lord Kames, had much provoked Voltaire, who never forgives, and never thinks any enemy below his notice. He has accordingly sent to the Gazette Literaire , an article with regard to the 'Elements of Criticism,' which turns that book extremely into ridicule, with a good deal of wit.[195:1] I tried to have it suppressed before it was printed; but the authors of that Gazette told me, that they durst neither suppress nor alter any thing that came from Voltaire. I suppose his lordship
holds that satiric wit as cheap, as he does all the rest of the human race; and will not be in the least mortified by his censure.
"The taste for literature is neither decayed nor depraved here, as with the barbarians who inhabit the banks of the Thames. Some people, who had read your dissertation, affirmed to me, that it was the finest piece of criticism, incomparably, to be found in the English tongue. I know not if you have read the 'Poetique de Marmontel:' it is worth your perusal. Voltaire has published an edition of Corneille, and his notes and dissertations contain many fine things. There is a book published in Holland, in two volumes octavo, called 'De la Nature.' It is prolix, and in many parts whimsical; but contains some of the boldest reasonings to be found in print. There is a miscellany in three volumes duodecimo published here, where there are many good pieces. It is perhaps more amusing to me, than it will be to you; as there is scarce a poem in it whose author I do not know, or the person to whom it is addressed.
"It is very silly to form distant schemes: but I am fixed at Paris for some time, and, to judge by probabilities, for life. My income would suffice me to live at ease, and a younger brother of the best family would not think himself ill provided for, if he had such a revenue. Lodgings, a coach, and clothes, are all I need; and though I have entered late into this scene of life, I am almost as much at my ease, as if I had been educated in it from my infancy. However, sickness, or the infirmities of age, which I may soon expect, may probably make me think of a retreat: But whether that will be better found in Paris or elsewhere, time must determine. I forbid myself all resolution on that head.
"I shall indulge myself in a folly, which I hope you will make a discreet use of: it is the telling you of an incident which may appear silly, but which gave more pleasure than perhaps any other I had ever met with. I was carried, about six weeks ago, to a masquerade, by 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! Monsr. 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 chéri 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 my personal character, my naïvéte, and simplicity of manners, the candour and mildness of my disposition, &c.—Non sunt mihi cornea fibra. I shall not deny that my heart felt a sensible satisfaction from this general effusion of good will; and Lord Hertford was much pleased, and even surprised, though he said, he thought that he had known before upon what footing I stood with the good company of Paris.
"I allow you to communicate this story to Dr. Jardine. I hope it will refute all his idle notions that I have no turn for gallantry and gaiety,[197:1]—that I am on a bad footing with the ladies,—that my turn
of conversation can never be agreeable to them,—that I never can have any pretensions to their favours, &c. &c. &c. A man in vogue will always have something to pretend to with the fair sex.
"Do you not think it happy for me to retain such a taste for idleness and follies at my years; especially since I have come into a country where the follies are so much more agreeable than elsewhere? I could only wish that some of my old friends were to participate with me of these amusements; though I know none of them that can, on occasion, be so thoroughly idle as myself.
"I am persuaded you will find great comfort in my house, which, in every respect, is agreeable. I beg of you and Mrs. Blair, (to whom I desire my compliments,) that you would sometimes pay some attention to my sister, who is the person that suffers most by my absence. I am, dear sir, yours very sincerely."[198:1]
Blair writes, on the 15th November, assuring Hume that he is fully conscious of the unreasonableness of expecting him to introduce those who are accredited to him, to the good company of Paris. He says, that his own friend expressed himself as "very well satisfied" with Hume's behaviour towards him; and perhaps he had a better reception than the letter to Blair might seem to indicate. At all events, Blair seems not to have been discouraged, for he immediately introduced the son of the provost of Glasgow, travelling for his health, and Arthur Masson, a teacher of languages, recommending them to such good offices as Hume finds himself at liberty to bestow