The project of Mr. Townsend, to my great mortification, has totally vanished, on account of Mademoiselle Le Vasseur. Send all his letters under my cover.[307:1]
Hume writes again on the 12th, to state that he has succeeded in obtaining the promise of a pension from the king: "You know," he says, "that our sovereign is extremely prudent and decent, and careful not to give offence. For which reason, he requires that this act of generosity may be an entire secret." He states, that this information must be kept to herself and the Prince of Conti: and she in her answer, admires Hume's generous and delicate conduct, and promises to keep the secret. In his postscript Hume announces the important fact, that Mademoiselle le Vasseur had arrived, and had found a companion to whom such a rag of celebrity was no small acquisition.
"P.S.--Since I wrote the above, I have seen General Conway, who tells me that the king has spoke to him on the same subject, and that the sum intended is a hundred pounds a-year: a mighty accession to our friend's slender revenue.
"A letter has also come to me open from Guy the bookseller, by which I learn that Mademoiselle sets out post, in company with a friend of mine, a young gentleman, very good-humoured, very agreeable--and very mad! He visited Rousseau in his mountains, who gave him a recommendation to Paoli, the King of Corsica; where this gentleman, whose name is Boswell, went last summer, in search of adventures. He has such a rage for literature, that I dread some event fatal to our friend's honour. You remember the story of Terentia, who was first married to Cicero, then to Sallust, and at last, in her old age, married a young nobleman, who imagined that she must possess some secret, which would convey to him eloquence and genius."[308:1]
Soon after, we find Hume writing as follows:--
"As you know that I never left any place without regret, you may imagine that I did not leave Paris altogether willingly, after having been so long accustomed to it. I do not find this new scene near so much to my taste; and I shall be long ere I am reconciled to it. Perhaps Edinburgh may please me better; I promise myself at least some satisfaction in my nephews, of whom I hear a very good account; and it is surely more suitable to one of my years to seek a retreat in my native country, than to pass the dregs of life among the great, and among people who, though they seem to have a friendship for me, are still strangers. I accustom myself, therefore, to this idea without reluctance; and since I have crossed the seas, I find my regret for the good company I left behind me, less pungent and uneasy. . . . .