In France, Hume's reputation stood far higher than in Britain; several
of his works had been translated; he had exchanged letters with
Montesquieu and with Helvetius; Rousseau had appealed to him; and the
charming Madame de Boufflers had drawn him into a correspondence, marked
by almost passionate enthusiasm on her part, and as fair an imitation of
enthusiasm as Hume was capable of, on his. In the extraordinary mixture
of learning, wit, humanity, frivolity, and profligacy which then
characterised the highest French society, a new sensation was worth
anything, and it mattered little whether the cause thereof was a
philosopher or a poodle; so Hume had a great success in the Parisian
world. Great nobles feted him, and great ladies were not content unless
the "gros David" was to be seen at their receptions, and in their boxes
at the theatre. "At the opera his broad unmeaning face was usually to be
seen _entre deux jolis minois_," says Lord Charlemont.[13] Hume's cool
head was by no means turned; but he took the goods the gods provided
with much satisfaction; and everywhere won golden opinions by his
unaffected good sense and thorough kindness of heart.
Over all this part of Hume's career, as over the surprising episode of
the quarrel with Rousseau, if that can be called quarrel which was
lunatic malignity on Rousseau's side and thorough generosity and
patience on Hume's, I may pass lightly. The story is admirably told by
Mr. Burton, to whose volumes I refer the reader.
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