The Scottish Philosophy [77]
imbecility. His eyes vacant and spiritless, and the corpulence of his whole person was far better fitted to communicate the idea of a turtle-eating alderman than of a refined philosopher. His speech in English was tendered ridiculous by the broadest Scotch accent, and his French was, if possible, still more laughable." This was the man who was made by the Parisian ladies to take the part, in an acted tableau, of a sultan assailed by two female slaves: " 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 A plusieurs reprises, et ne trouve jamais autre chose a leur dire que, -- `Eh bien! mes demoiselles. . . . Eh bien! nous voila donc. . . . Eh bien ! vous voila. . . . vous voila ici.'" His good sense led him to see the vanity of all this: but he was pleased with it; and he often expresses a wish to settle in Paris, or somewhere in France.
When he was introduced to the Dauphin, his son, afterwards the unfortunate Louis XVI., but then a boy of nine, stepped forth, evidently by instruction, and told him how many friends and admirers he had in the country, and that he reckoned himself among the number from the reading of many passages in his works. The Comte de Provence (who, after his long exile, became Louis XVIII.),a year or so younger, now approached Hume, and told him he had been long and impatiently expected in France, and that he anticipated great pleasure from reading his fine history. Even the Comte d'Artois, afterwards Charles X., but then a boy of six, had to mumble a panegyric. A wise man learned in providence might have seen that awful miseries must issue from a state of things in which, as Horace Walpole pointedly expresses it, " There is a God and the king to be pulled down first, and men and women are devoutly employed in the demolition," while princes were taught to cherish the viper that was to sting them. It would have been an appropriate punishment to have got Hume placed, half a century later, in the scenes of the French Revolution, to let him eat the fruit of the seed he had helped to sow. {128}
But what, it may be asked, did be think of the state of society in which he had to mingle? It is evident that he was horrified at times with the proclaimed atheism of men and women. But what did he think of the morality of the circles in which he moved, more especially of the loose relationship of the marriage tie? Did his utilitarian theory of morals, of which he surely knew the bearing and tendency, allow of such a state of things? It is certain that Hume uttered no protest at the time, and he has left behind no condemnation of the morality of France, while he was fond of making sly and contemptuous allusions to the manifestations of religious zeal in his own country. The tone of morality in France could never have been amended by him, nor, we venture to say, by any utilitarian. When the husband of Madame Boufflers dies, he writes to her as a person now within reach of honor and felicity; that is, as likely to be married to the Prince de Conti. However, the prince declines, and Hume gives her wise enough counsel: gradually to diminish her connection with the prince, and at last to separate from him; and, he says: " If I could dispose of my fate, nothing would 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 connections here; and, if it were delayed, I would, with some probability, expect to have the felicity of attending you thither." One can picture the scene; the countess travelling with Hume attending her. But the prospect had not such attractions as to induce her to leave the prince. Hume continued his correspondence with her; and, on hearing of the death of the Prince of Conti, wrote her within a few days of his own death, knowing he was dying, and expresses no condemnation of her past conduct. The question arises whether this would be the moral
When he was introduced to the Dauphin, his son, afterwards the unfortunate Louis XVI., but then a boy of nine, stepped forth, evidently by instruction, and told him how many friends and admirers he had in the country, and that he reckoned himself among the number from the reading of many passages in his works. The Comte de Provence (who, after his long exile, became Louis XVIII.),a year or so younger, now approached Hume, and told him he had been long and impatiently expected in France, and that he anticipated great pleasure from reading his fine history. Even the Comte d'Artois, afterwards Charles X., but then a boy of six, had to mumble a panegyric. A wise man learned in providence might have seen that awful miseries must issue from a state of things in which, as Horace Walpole pointedly expresses it, " There is a God and the king to be pulled down first, and men and women are devoutly employed in the demolition," while princes were taught to cherish the viper that was to sting them. It would have been an appropriate punishment to have got Hume placed, half a century later, in the scenes of the French Revolution, to let him eat the fruit of the seed he had helped to sow. {128}
But what, it may be asked, did be think of the state of society in which he had to mingle? It is evident that he was horrified at times with the proclaimed atheism of men and women. But what did he think of the morality of the circles in which he moved, more especially of the loose relationship of the marriage tie? Did his utilitarian theory of morals, of which he surely knew the bearing and tendency, allow of such a state of things? It is certain that Hume uttered no protest at the time, and he has left behind no condemnation of the morality of France, while he was fond of making sly and contemptuous allusions to the manifestations of religious zeal in his own country. The tone of morality in France could never have been amended by him, nor, we venture to say, by any utilitarian. When the husband of Madame Boufflers dies, he writes to her as a person now within reach of honor and felicity; that is, as likely to be married to the Prince de Conti. However, the prince declines, and Hume gives her wise enough counsel: gradually to diminish her connection with the prince, and at last to separate from him; and, he says: " If I could dispose of my fate, nothing would 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 connections here; and, if it were delayed, I would, with some probability, expect to have the felicity of attending you thither." One can picture the scene; the countess travelling with Hume attending her. But the prospect had not such attractions as to induce her to leave the prince. Hume continued his correspondence with her; and, on hearing of the death of the Prince of Conti, wrote her within a few days of his own death, knowing he was dying, and expresses no condemnation of her past conduct. The question arises whether this would be the moral