{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_3907/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_3907","id":"gutenberg_3907","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3907","summary":null,"tags":["Authors, French -- 18th century -- Biography","Category: Biographies","Category: French Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 1712-1778"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU\n(In 12 books)\n\nPrivately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society\n\nLondon, 1903\n\n\n\nBOOK VII.\n\n\nAfter two years' silence and patience, and notwithstanding my\nresolutions,  I again take up my pen: Reader, suspend your judgment\nas to the reasons which force me to such a step: of these you can be no\njudge until you shall have read my book.\n\nMy peaceful youth has been seen to pass away calmly and agreeably without\nany great disappointments or remarkable prosperity.  This mediocrity was\nmostly owing to my ardent yet feeble nature, less prompt in undertaking\nthan easy to discourage; quitting repose for violent agitations, but\nreturning to it from lassitude and inclinations, and which, placing me in\nan idle and tranquil state for which alone I felt I was born, at a\ndistance from the paths of great virtues and still further from those of\ngreat vices, never permitted me to arrive at anything great, either good\nor bad.  What a different account will I soon have to give of myself!\nFate, which for thirty years forced my inclinations, for thirty others\nhas seemed to oppose them; and this continued opposition, between my\nsituation and inclinations, will appear to have been the source of\nenormous faults, unheard of misfortunes, and every virtue except that\nfortitude which alone can do honor to adversity.\n\nThe history of the first part of my life was written from memory, and is\nconsequently full of errors.  As I am obliged to write the second part\nfrom memory also, the errors in it will probably be still more numerous.\nThe agreeable remembrance of the finest portion of my years, passed with\nso much tranquillity and innocence, has left in my heart a thousand\ncharming impressions which I love incessantly to call to my recollection.\nIt will soon appear how different from these those of the rest of my life\nhave been.  To recall them to my mind would be to renew their bitterness.\nFar from increasing that of my situation by these sorrowful reflections,\nI repel them as much as possible, and in this endeavor often succeed so\nwell as to be unable to find them at will.  This facility of forgetting\nmy misfortunes is a consolation which Heaven has reserved to me in the\nmidst of those which fate has one day to accumulate upon my head.  My\nmemory, which presents to me no objects but such as are agreeable, is the\nhappy counterpoise of my terrified imagination, by which I foresee\nnothing but a cruel futurity.\n\nAll the papers I had collected to aid my recollection, and guide me in\nthis undertaking, are no longer in my possession, nor can I ever again\nhope to regain them.\n\nI have but one faithful guide on which I can depend: this is the chain of\nthe sentiments by which the succession of my existence has been marked,\nand by these the events which have been either the cause or the effect of\nthe manner of it.  I easily forget my misfortunes, but I cannot forget my\nfaults, and still less my virtuous sentiments.  The remembrance of these\nis too dear to me ever to suffer them to be effaced from my mind.  I may\nomit facts, transpose events, and fall into some errors of dates; but I\ncannot be deceived in what I have felt, nor in that which from sentiment\nI have done; and to relate this is the chief end of my present work.  The\nreal object of my confessions is to communicate an exact knowledge of\nwhat I interiorly am and have been in every situation of my life.  I have\npromised the history of my mind, and to write it faithfully I have no\nneed of other memoirs: to enter into my own heart, as I have hitherto\ndone, will alone be sufficient.\n\nThere is, however, and very happily, an interval of six or seven years,\nrelative to which I have exact references, in a collection of letters\ncopied from the originals, in the hands of M. du Peyrou.  This\ncollection, which concludes in 1760, comprehends the whole time of my\nresidence at the hermitage, and my great quarrel with those who called\nthemselves my friends; that memorable epocha of my life, and the source\nof all my other misfortunes.  With respect to more recent original\nletters which may remain in my possession, and are but few in number,\ninstead of transcribing them at the end of this collection, too\nvoluminous to enable me to deceive the vigilance of my Arguses, I will\ncopy them into the work whenever they appear to furnish any explanation,\nbe this either for or against myself; for I am not under the least\napprehension lest the reader should forget I make my confession, and be\ninduced to believe I make my apology; but he cannot expect I shall\nconceal the truth when it testifies in my favor.\n\nThe second part, it is likewise to be remembered, contains nothing in\ncommon with the first, except truth; nor has any other advantage over it,\nbut the importance of the facts; in everything else, it is inferior to\nthe former.  I wrote the first with pleasure, with satisfaction, and at\nmy ease, at Wootton, or in the castle Trie: everything I had to recollect\nwas a new enjoyment.  I returned to my closet with an increased pleasure,\nand, without constraint, gave that turn to my descriptions which most\nflattered my imagination.\n\nAt present my head and memory are become so weak as to render me almost\nincapable of every kind of application: my present undertaking is the\nresult of constraint, and a heart full of sorrow.  I have nothing to\ntreat of but misfortunes, treacheries, perfidies, and circumstances\nequally afflicting.  I would give the world, could I bury in the\nobscurity of time, every thing I have to say, and which, in spite of\nmyself, I am obliged to relate.  I am, at the same time, under the\nnecessity of being mysterious and subtle, of endeavoring to impose and of\ndescending to things the most foreign to my nature.  The ceiling under\nwhich I write has eyes; the walls of my chamber have ears.  Surrounded by\nspies and by vigilant and malevolent inspectors, disturbed, and my\nattention diverted, I hastily commit to paper a few broken sentences,\nwhich I have scarcely time to read, and still less to correct.  I know\nthat, notwithstanding the barriers which are multiplied around me, my\nenemies are afraid truth should escape by some little opening.  What\nmeans can I take to introduce it to the world?  This, however, I attempt\nwith but few hopes of success.  The reader will judge whether or not such\na situation furnishes the means of agreeable descriptions, or of giving\nthem a seductive coloring!  I therefore inform such as may undertake to\nread this work, that nothing can secure them from weariness in the\nprosecution of their task, unless it be the desire of becoming more fully\nacquainted with a man whom they already know, and a sincere love of\njustice and truth.\n\nIn my first part I brought down my narrative to my departure with\ninfinite regret from Paris, leaving my heart at Charmettes, and, there\nbuilding my last castle in the air, intending some day to return to the\nfeet of mamma, restored to herself, with the treasures I should have\nacquired, and depending upon my system of music as upon a certain\nfortune.\n\nI made some stay at Lyons to visit my acquaintance, procure letters of\nrecommendation to Paris, and to sell my books of geometry which I had\nbrought with me.  I was well received by all whom I knew.  M. and Madam\nde Malby seemed pleased to see me again, and several times invited me to\ndinner.  At their house I became acquainted with the Abbe de Malby, as I\nhad already done with the Abbe de Condillac, both of whom were on a visit\nto their brother.  The Abbe de Malby gave me letters to Paris; among\nothers, one to M. de Pontenelle, and another to the Comte de Caylus.\nThese were very agreeable acquaintances, especially the first, to whose\nfriendship for me his death only put a period, and from whom, in our\nprivate conversations, I received advice which I ought to have more\nexactly followed.\n\nI likewise saw M. Bordes, with whom I had been long acquainted, and who\nhad frequently obliged me with the greatest cordiality and the most real\npleasure.  He it was who enabled me to sell my books; and he also gave me\nfrom himself good recommendations to Paris.  I again saw the intendant\nfor whose acquaintance I was indebted to M. Bordes, and who introduced me\nto the Duke de Richelieu, who was then passing through Lyons.  M. Pallu\npresented me.  The Duke received me well, and invited me to come and see\nhim at Paris; I did so several times; although this great acquaintance,\nof which I shall frequently have occasion to speak, was never of the most\ntrifling utility to me.\n\nI visited the musician David, who, in one of my former journeys, and in\nmy distress, had rendered me service.  He had either lent or given me a\ncap and a pair of stockings, which I have never returned, nor has he ever\nasked me for them, although we have since that time frequently seen each\nother.  I, however, made him a present, something like an equivalent.\nI would say more upon this subject, were what I have owned in question;\nbut I have to speak of what I have done, which, unfortunately, is far\nfrom being the same thing.\n\nI also saw the noble and generous Perrichon, and not without feeling the\neffects of his accustomed munificence; for he made me the same present he\nhad previously done to the elegant Bernard, by paying for my place in the\ndiligence.  I visited the surgeon Parisot, the best and most benevolent\nof men; as also his beloved Godefroi, who had lived with him ten years,\nand whose merit chiefly consisted in her gentle manners and goodness of\nheart.  It was impossible to see this woman without pleasure, or to leave\nher without regret.  Nothing better shows the inclinations of a man, than\nthe nature of his attachments.\n\n     [Unless he be deceived in his choice, or that she, to whom he\n     attaches himself, changes her character by an extraordinary\n     concurrence of causes, which is not absolutely impossible.  Were\n     this consequence to be admitted without modification, Socrates must\n     be judged of by his wife Xantippe, and Dion by his friend Calippus,\n     which would be the most false and iniquitous judgment ever made.\n     However, let no injurious application be here made to my wife.  She\n     is weak and more easily deceived than I at first imagined, but by\n     her pure and excellent character she is worthy of all my esteem.]\n\nThose who had once seen the gentle Godefroi, immediately knew the good\nand amiable Parisot.\n\nI was much obliged to all these good people, but I afterwards neglected\nthem all; not from ingratitude, but from that invincible indolence which\nso often assumes its appearance.  The remembrance of their services has\nnever been effaced from my mind, nor the impression they made from my\nheart; but I could more easily have proved my gratitude, than assiduously\nhave shown them the exterior of that sentiment.  Exactitude in\ncorrespondence is what I never could observe; the moment I began to\nrelax, the shame and embarrassment of repairing my fault made me\naggravate it, and I entirely desist from writing; I have, therefore, been\nsilent, and appeared to forget them.  Parisot and Perrichon took not the\nleast notice of my negligence, and I ever found them the same.  But,\ntwenty years afterwards it will be seen, in M. Bordes, to what a degree\nthe self-love of a wit can make him carry his vengeance when he feels\nhimself neglected.\n\nBefore I leave Lyons, I must not forget an amiable person, whom I again\nsaw with more pleasure than ever, and who left in my heart the most\ntender remembrance.  This was Mademoiselle Serre, of whom I have spoken\nin my first part; I renewed my acquaintance with her whilst I was at M.\nde Malby's.\n\nBeing this time more at leisure, I saw her more frequently, and she made\nthe most sensible impressions on my heart.  I had some reason to believe\nher own was not unfavorable to my pretensions; but she honored me with\nher confidence so far as to remove from me all temptation to allure her\npartiality.\n\nShe had no fortune, and in this respect exactly resembled myself; our\nsituations were too similar to permit us to become united; and with the\nviews I then had, I was far from thinking of marriage.  She gave me to\nunderstand that a young merchant, one M. Geneve, seemed to wish to obtain\nher hand.  I saw him once or twice at her lodgings; he appeared to me to\nbe an honest man, and this was his general character.  Persuaded she\nwould be happy with him, I was desirous he should marry her, which he\nafterwards did; and that I might not disturb their innocent love,\nI hastened my departure; offering up, for the happiness of that charming\nwoman, prayers, which, here below were not long heard.  Alas!  her time\nwas very short, for I afterwards heard she died in the second or third\nyear after her marriage.  My mind, during the journey, was wholly\nabsorbed in tender regret.  I felt, and since that time, when these\ncircumstances have been present to my recollection, have frequently done\nthe same; that although the sacrifices made to virtue and our duty may\nsometimes be painful, we are well rewarded by the agreeable remembrance\nthey leave deeply engravers in our hearts.\n\nI this time saw Paris in as favorable a point of view as it had appeared\nto me in an unfavorable one at my first journey; not that my ideas of its\nbrilliancy arose from the splendor of my lodgings; for in consequence of\nan address given me by M. Bordes, I resided at the Hotel St. Quentin, Rue\ndes Cordier, near the Sorbonne; a vile street, a miserable hotel, and a\nwretched apartment: but nevertheless a house in which several men of\nmerit, such as Gresset, Bordes, Abbe Malby, Condillac, and several\nothers, of whom unfortunately I found not one, had taken up their\nquarters; but I there met with M. Bonnefond, a man unacquainted with the\nworld, lame, litigious, and who affected to be a purist.  To him I owe\nthe acquaintance of M. Roguin, at present the oldest friend I have and by\nwhose means I became acquainted with Diderot, of whom I shall soon have\noccasion to say a good deal.\n\nI arrived at Paris in the autumn of 1741, with fifteen louis in my purse,\nand with my comedy of Narcissus and my musical project in my pocket.\nThese composed my whole stock; consequently I had not much time to lose\nbefore I attempted to turn the latter to some advantage.  I therefore\nimmediately thought of making use of my recommendations.\n\nA young man who arrives at Paris, with a tolerable figure, and announces\nhimself by his talents, is sure to be well received.  This was my good\nfortune, which procured me some pleasure without leading to anything\nsolid.  Of all the persons to whom I was recommended, three only were\nuseful to me.  M. Damesin, a gentleman of Savoy, at that time equerry,\nand I believe favorite, of the Princess of Carignan; M. de Boze,\nSecretary of the Academy of Inscriptions, and keeper of the medals of the\nking's cabinet; and Father Castel, a Jesuit, author of the 'Clavecin\noculaire'.--[ocular harpsichord.]\n\nAll these recommendations, except that to M. Damesin, were given me by\nthe Abbe de Malby.\n\nM. Damesin provided me with that which was most needful, by means of two\npersons with whom he brought me acquainted.  One was M. Gase, 'president\na mortier' of the parliament of Bordeaux, and who played very well upon\nthe violin; the other, the Abbe de Leon, who then lodged in the Sorbonne,\na young nobleman; extremely amiable, who died in the flower of his age,\nafter having, for a few moments, made a figure in the world under the\nname of the Chevalier de Rohan.  Both these gentlemen had an inclination\nto learn composition.  In this I gave them lessons for a few months, by\nwhich means my decreasing purse received some little aid.  The Abbe Leon\nconceived a friendship for me, and wished me to become his secretary; but\nhe was far from being rich, and all the salary he could offer me was\neight hundred livres, which, with infinite regret, I refused; since it\nwas insufficient to defray the expenses of my lodging, food, and\nclothing.\n\nI was well received by M. de Boze.  He had a thirst for knowledge, of\nwhich he possessed not a little, but was somewhat pedantic.  Madam de\nBoze much resembled him; she was lively and affected.  I sometimes dined\nwith them, and it is impossible to be more awkward than I was in her\npresence.  Her easy manner intimidated me, and rendered mine more\nremarkable.  When she presented me a plate, I modestly put forward my\nfork to take one of the least bits of what she offered me, which made her\ngive the plate to her servant, turning her head aside that I might not\nsee her laugh.  She had not the least suspicion that in the head of the\nrustic with whom she was so diverted there was some small portion of wit.\nM. de Boze presented me to M. de Reaumur, his friend, who came to dine\nwith him every Friday, the day on which the Academy of Sciences met.  He\nmentioned to him my project, and the desire I had of having it examined\nby the academy.  M. de Reaumur consented to make the proposal, and his\noffer was accepted.  On the day appointed I was introduced and presented\nby M. de Reaumur, and on the same day, August 22d, 1742, I had the honor\nto read to the academy the memoir I had prepared for that purpose.\nAlthough this illustrious assembly might certainly well be expected to\ninspire me with awe, I was less intimidated on this occasion than I had\nbeen in the presence of Madam de Boze, and I got tolerably well through\nmy reading and the answers I was obliged to give.  The memoir was well\nreceived, and acquired me some compliments by which I was equally\nsurprised and flattered, imagining that before such an assembly, whoever\nwas not a member of it could not have commonsense.  The persons appointed\nto examine my system were M. Mairan, M. Hellot, and M. de Fouchy, all\nthree men of merit, but not one of them understood music, at least not\nenough of composition to enable them to judge of my project.\n\nDuring my conference with these gentlemen, I was convinced with no less\ncertainty than surprise, that if men of learning have sometimes fewer\nprejudices than others, they more tenaciously retain those they have.\nHowever weak or false most of their objections were, and although I\nanswered them with great timidity, and I confess, in bad terms, yet with\ndecisive reasons, I never once made myself understood, or gave them any\nexplanation in the least satisfactory.  I was constantly surprised at the\nfacility with which, by the aid of a few sonorous phrases, they refuted,\nwithout having comprehended me.  They had learned, I know not where, that\na monk of the name of Souhaitti had formerly invented a mode of noting\nthe gamut by ciphers: a sufficient proof that my system was not new.\nThis might, perhaps, be the case; for although I had never heard of\nFather Souhaitti, and notwithstanding his manner of writing the seven\nnotes without attending to the octaves was not, under any point of view,\nworthy of entering into competition with my simple and commodious\ninvention for easily noting by ciphers every possible kind of music,\nkeys, rests, octaves, measure, time, and length of note; things on which\nSouhaitti had never thought it was nevertheless true, that with respect\nto the elementary expression of the seven notes, he was the first\ninventor.\n\nBut besides their giving to this primitive invention more importance than\nwas due to it, they went still further, and, whenever they spoke of the\nfundamental principles of the system, talked nonsense.  The greatest\nadvantage of my scheme was to supersede transpositions and keys, so that\nthe same piece of music was noted and transposed at will by means of the\nchange of a single initial letter at the head of the air.  These\ngentlemen had heard from the music--masters of Paris that the method of\nexecuting by transposition was a bad one; and on this authority converted\nthe most evident advantage of my system into an invincible objection\nagainst it, and affirmed that my mode of notation was good for vocal\nmusic, but bad for instrumental; instead of concluding as they ought to\nhave done, that it was good for vocal, and still better for instrumental.\nOn their report the academy granted me a certificate full of fine\ncompliments, amidst which it appeared that in reality it judged my system\nto be neither new nor useful.  I did not think proper to ornament with\nsuch a paper the work entitled 'Dissertation sur la musique moderne', by\nwhich I appealed to the public.\n\nI had reason to remark on this occasion that, even with a narrow\nunderstanding, the sole but profound knowledge of a thing is preferable\nfor the purpose of judging of it, to all the lights resulting from a\ncultivation of the sciences, when to these a particular study of that in\nquestion has not been joined.  The only solid objection to my system was\nmade by Rameau.  I had scarcely explained it to him before he discovered\nits weak part.  \"Your signs,\" said he, \"are very good inasmuch as they\nclearly and simply determine the length of notes, exactly represent\nintervals, and show the simple in the double note, which the common\nnotation does not do; but they are objectionable on account of their\nrequiring an operation of the mind, which cannot always accompany the\nrapidity of execution.  The position of our notes,\" continued he, \"is\ndescribed to the eye without the concurrence of this operation.  If two\nnotes, one very high and the other very low, be joined by a series of\nintermediate ones, I see at the first glance the progress from one to the\nother by conjoined degrees; but in your system, to perceive this series,\nI must necessarily run over your ciphers one after the other; the glance\nof the eye is here useless.\"  The objection appeared to me\ninsurmountable, and I instantly assented to it.  Although it be simple\nand striking, nothing can suggest it but great knowledge and practice of\nthe art, and it is by no means astonishing that not one of the\nacademicians should have thought of it.  But what creates much surprise\nis, that these men of great learning, and who are supposed to possess so\nmuch knowledge, should so little know that each ought to confine his\njudgment to that which relates to the study with which he has been\nconversant.\n\nMy frequent visits to the literati appointed to examine my system and the\nother academicians gave me an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the\nmost distinguished men of letters in Paris, and by this means the\nacquaintance that would have been the consequence of my sudden admission\namongst them, which afterwards came to pass, was already established.\nWith respect to the present moment, absorbed in my new system of music,\nI obstinately adhered to my intention of effecting a revolution in the\nart, and by that means of acquiring a celebrity which, in the fine arts,\nis in Paris mostly accompanied by fortune.  I shut myself in my chamber\nand labored three or four months with inexpressible ardor, in forming\ninto a work for the public eye, the memoir I had read before the academy.\nThe difficulty was to find a bookseller to take my manuscript; and this\non account of the necessary expenses for new characters, and because\nbooksellers give not their money by handfuls to young authors; although\nto me it seemed but just my work should render me the bread I had eaten\nwhile employed in its composition.\n\nBonnefond introduced me to Quillau the father, with whom I agreed to\ndivide the profits, without reckoning the privilege, of which I paid the\nwhole expense.  Such were the future proceedings of this Quillau that I\nlost the expenses of my privilege, never having received a farthing from\nthat edition; which, probably, had but very middling success, although\nthe Abbe des Fontaines promised to give it celebrity, and,\nnotwithstanding the other journalists, had spoken of it very favorably.\n\nThe greatest obstacle to making the experiment of my system was the fear,\nin case of its not being received, of losing the time necessary to learn\nit.  To this I answered, that my notes rendered the ideas so clear, that\nto learn music by means of the ordinary characters, time would be gained\nby beginning with mine.  To prove this by experience, I taught music\ngratis to a young American lady, Mademoiselle des Roulins, with whom M.\nRoguin had brought me acquainted.  In three months she read every kind of\nmusic, by means of my notation, and sung at sight better than I did\nmyself, any piece that was not too difficult.  This success was\nconvincing, but not known; any other person would have filled the\njournals with the detail, but with some talents for discovering useful\nthings, I never have possessed that of setting them off to advantage.\n\nThus was my airy castle again overthrown; but this time I was thirty\nyears of age, and in Paris, where it is impossible to live for a trifle.\nThe resolution I took upon this occasion will astonish none but those by\nwhom the first part of these memoirs has not been read with attention.\nI had just made great and fruitless efforts, and was in need of\nrelaxation.  Instead of sinking with despair I gave myself up quietly to\nmy indolence and to the care of Providence; and the better to wait for\nits assistance with patience, I lay down a frugal plan for the slow\nexpenditure of a few louis, which still remained in my possession,\nregulating the expense of my supine pleasures without retrenching it;\ngoing to the coffee-house but every other day, and to the theatre but\ntwice a week.  With respect to the expenses of girls of easy virtue, I\nhad no retrenchment to make; never having in the whole course of my life\napplied so much as a farthing to that use except once, of which I shall\nsoon have occasion to speak.  The security, voluptuousness, and\nconfidence with which I gave myself up to this indolent and solitary\nlife, which I had not the means of continuing for three months, is one of\nthe singularities of my life, and the oddities of my disposition.  The\nextreme desire I had, the public should think of me was precisely what\ndiscouraged me from showing myself; and the necessity of paying visits\nrendered them to such a degree insupportable, that I ceased visiting the\nacademicians and other men of letters, with whom I had cultivated an\nacquaintance.  Marivaux, the Abbe Malby, and Fontenelle, were almost the\nonly persons whom I sometimes went to see.  To the first I showed my\ncomedy of Narcissus.  He was pleased with it, and had the goodness to\nmake in it some improvements.  Diderot, younger than these, was much\nabout my own age.  He was fond of music, and knew it theoretically; we\nconversed together, and he communicated to me some of his literary\nprojects.  This soon formed betwixt us a more intimate connection, which\nlasted fifteen years, and which probably would still exist were not I,\nunfortunately, and by his own fault, of the same profession with himself.\n\nIt would be impossible to imagine in what manner I employed this short\nand precious interval which still remained to me, before circumstances\nforced me to beg my bread:--in learning by memory passages from the poets\nwhich I had learned and forgotten a hundred times.  Every morning at ten\no'clock, I went to walk in the Luxembourg with a Virgil and a Rousseau in\nmy pocket, and there, until the hour of dinner, I passed away the time in\nrestoring to my memory a sacred ode or a bucolic, without being\ndiscouraged by forgetting, by the study of the morning, what I had\nlearned the evening before.  I recollected that after the defeat of\nNicias at Syracuse the captive Athenians obtained a livelihood by\nreciting the poems of Homer.  The use I made of this erudition to ward\noff misery was to exercise my happy memory by learning all the poets by\nrote.\n\nI had another expedient, not less solid, in the game of chess, to which I\nregularly dedicated, at Maugis, the evenings on which I did not go to the\ntheatre.  I became acquainted with M. de Legal, M. Husson, Philidor, and\nall the great chess players of the day, without making the least\nimprovement in the game.  However, I had no doubt but, in the end, I\nshould become superior to them all, and this, in my own opinion, was a\nsufficient resource.  The same manner of reasoning served me in every\nfolly to which I felt myself inclined.  I said to myself: whoever excels\nin anything is sure to acquire a distinguished reception in society.  Let\nus therefore excel, no matter in what, I shall certainly be sought after;\nopportunities will present themselves, and my own merit will do the rest.\nThis childishness was not the sophism of my reason; it was that of my\nindolence.  Dismayed at the great and rapid efforts which would have been\nnecessary to call forth my endeavors, I strove to flatter my idleness,\nand by arguments suitable to the purpose, veiled from my own eyes the\nshame of such a state.\n\nI thus calmly waited for the moment when I was to be without money; and\nhad not Father Castel, whom I sometimes went to see in my way to the\ncoffee-house, roused me from my lethargy, I believe I should have seen\nmyself reduced to my last farthing without the least emotion.  Father\nCastel was a madman, but a good man upon the whole; he was sorry to see\nme thus impoverish myself to no purpose.  \"Since musicians and the\nlearned,\" said he, \"do not sing by your scale, change the string, and\napply to the women.  You will perhaps succeed better with them.  I have\nspoken of you to Madam de Beuzenval; go to her from me; she is a good\nwoman who will be glad to see the countryman of her son and husband.  You\nwill find at her house Madam de Broglie, her daughter, who is a woman of\nwit.  Madam Dupin is another to whom I also have mentioned you; carry her\nyour work; she is desirous of seeing you, and will receive you well.  No\nthing is done in Paris without the women.  They are the curves, of which\nthe wise are the asymptotes; they incessantly approach each other, but\nnever touch.\"\n\nAfter having from day to day delayed these very disagreeable steps, I at\nlength took courage, and called upon Madam de Beuzenval.  She received me\nwith kindness; and Madam de Broglio entering the chamber, she said to\nher: \"Daughter, this is M. Rousseau, of whom Father Castel has spoken to\nus.\"  Madam de Broglie complimented me upon my work, and going to her\nharpsichord proved to me she had already given it some attention.\nPerceiving it to be about one o'clock, I prepared to take my leave.\nMadam de Beuzenval said to me: \"You are at a great distance from the\nquarter of the town in which you reside; stay and dine here.\"  I did not\nwant asking a second time.  A quarter of an hour afterwards,\nI understood, by a word, that the dinner to which she had invited me was\nthat of her servants' hall.  Madam de Beuzenval was a very good kind of\nwoman, but of a confined understanding, and too full of her illustrious\nPolish nobility: she had no idea of the respect due to talents.  On this\noccasion, likewise, she judged me by my manner rather than by my dress,\nwhich, although very plain, was very neat, and by no means announced a\nman to dine with servants.  I had too long forgotten the way to the place\nwhere they eat to be inclined to take it again.  Without suffering my\nanger to appear, I told Madam de Beuzenval that I had an affair of a\ntrifling nature which I had just recollected obliged me to return home,\nand I immediately prepared to depart.  Madam de Broglie approached her\nmother, and whispered in her ear a few words which had their effect.\nMadam de Beuzenval rose to prevent me from going, and said, \"I expect\nthat you will do us the honor to dine with us.\"  In this case I thought\nto show pride would be a mark of folly, and I determined to stay.  The\ngoodness of Madam de Broglie had besides made an impression upon me, and\nrendered her interesting in my eyes.  I was very glad to dine with her,\nand hoped, that when she knew me better, she would not regret having\nprocured me that honor.  The President de Lamoignon, very intimate in the\nfamily, dined there also.  He, as well as Madam de Broglie, was a master\nof all the modish and fashionable small talk jargon of Paris.  Poor Jean\nJacques was unable to make a figure in this way.  I had sense enough not\nto pretend to it, and was silent.  Happy would it have been for me, had I\nalways possessed the same wisdom; I should not be in the abyss into which\nI am now fallen.  I was vexed at my own stupidity, and at being unable to\njustify to Madam de Broglie what she had done in my favor.\n\nAfter dinner I thought of my ordinary resource.  I had in my pocket an\nepistle in verse, written to Parisot during my residence at Lyons.  This\nfragment was not without some fire, which I increased by my manner of\nreading, and made them all three shed tears.  Whether it was vanity, or\nreally the truth, I thought the eyes of Madam de Broglie seemed to say to\nher mother: \"Well, mamma, was I wrong in telling you this man was fitter\nto dine with us than with your women?\"  Until then my heart had been\nrather burdened, but after this revenge I felt myself satisfied.  Madam\nde Broglie, carrying her favorable opinion of me rather too far, thought\nI should immediately acquire fame in Paris, and become a favorite with\nfine ladies.  To guide my inexperience she gave me the confessions of the\nCount de -----.  \"This book,\" said she, \"is a Mentor, of which you will\nstand in need in the great world.  You will do well by sometimes\nconsulting it.\"  I kept the book upwards of twenty years with a sentiment\nof gratitude to her from whose hand I had received it, although I\nfrequently laughed at the opinion the lady seemed to have of my merit in\ngallantry.  From the moment I had read the work, I was desirous of\nacquiring the friendship of the author.  My inclination led me right; he\nis the only real friend I ever possessed amongst men of letters.\n\n     [I have so long been of the same opinion, and so perfectly convinced\n     of its being well founded, that since my return to Paris I confided\n     to him the manuscript of my confessions.  The suspicious J. J.\n     never suspected perfidy and falsehood until he had been their\n     victim.]\n\nFrom this time I thought I might depend on the services of Madam the\nBaroness of Beuzenval, and the Marchioness of Broglie, and that they\nwould not long leave me without resource.  In this I was not deceived.\nBut I must now speak of my first visit to Madam Dupin, which produced\nmore lasting consequences.\n\nMadam Dupin was, as every one in Paris knows, the daughter of Samuel\nBernard and Madam Fontaine.  There were three sisters, who might be\ncalled the three graces.  Madam de la Touche who played a little prank,\nand went to England with the Duke of Kingston.  Madam Darby, the eldest\nof the three; the friend, the only sincere friend of the Prince of Conti;\nan adorable woman, as well by her sweetness and the goodness of her\ncharming character, as by her agreeable wit and incessant cheerfulness.\nLastly, Madam Dupin, more beautiful than either of her sisters, and the\nonly one who has not been reproached with some levity of conduct.\n\nShe was the reward of the hospitality of M. Dupin, to whom her mother\ngave her in marriage with the place of farmer general and an immense\nfortune, in return for the good reception he had given her in his\nprovince.  When I saw her for the first time, she was still one of the\nfinest women in Paris.  She received me at her toilette, her arms were\nuncovered, her hair dishevelled, and her combing-cloth ill-arranged.\nThis scene was new to me; it was too powerful for my poor head, I became\nconfused, my senses wandered; in short, I was violently smitten by Madam\nDupin.\n\nMy confusion was not prejudicial to me; she did not perceive it.  She\nkindly received the book and the author; spoke with information of my\nplan, sung, accompanied herself on the harpsichord, kept me to dinner,\nand placed me at table by her side.  Less than this would have turned my\nbrain; I became mad.  She permitted me to visit her, and I abused the\npermission.  I went to see her almost every day, and dined with her twice\nor thrice a week.  I burned with inclination to speak, but never dared\nattempt it.  Several circumstances increased my natural timidity.\nPermission to visit in an opulent family was a door open to fortune, and\nin my situation I was unwilling to run the risk of shutting it against\nmyself.\n\nMadam Dupin, amiable as she was, was serious and unanimated; I found\nnothing in her manners sufficiently alluring to embolden me.  Her house,\nat that time, as brilliant as any other in Paris, was frequented by\nsocieties the less numerous, as the persons by whom they were composed\nwere chosen on account of some distinguished merit.  She was fond of\nseeing every one who had claims to a marked superiority; the great men of\nletters, and fine women.  No person was seen in her circle but dukes,\nambassadors, and blue ribbons.  The Princess of Rohan, the Countess of\nForcalquier, Madam de Mirepoix, Madam de Brignole, and Lady Hervey,\npassed for her intimate friends.  The Abbes de Fontenelle, de Saint\nPierre, and Saltier, M. de Fourmont, M. de Berms, M. de Buffon, and M. de\nVoltaire, were of her circle and her dinners.  If her reserved manner did\nnot attract many young people, her society inspired the greater awe, as\nit was composed of graver persons, and the poor Jean-Jacques had no\nreason to flatter himself he should be able to take a distinguished part\nin the midst of such superior talents.  I therefore had not courage to\nspeak; but no longer able to contain myself, I took a resolution to\nwrite.  For the first two days she said not a word to me upon the\nsubject.  On the third day, she returned me my letter, accompanying it\nwith a few exhortations which froze my blood.  I attempted to speak, but\nmy words expired upon my lips; my sudden passion was extinguished with my\nhopes, and after a declaration in form I continued to live with her upon\nthe same terms as before, without so much as speaking to her even by the\nlanguage of the eyes.\n\nI thought my folly was forgotten, but I was deceived.  M. de Francueil,\nson to M. Dupin, and son-in-law to Madam Dupin, was much the same with\nherself and me.  He had wit, a good person, and might have pretensions.\nThis was said to be the case, and probably proceeded from his\nmother-in-law's having given him an ugly wife of a mild disposition,\nwith whom, as well as with her husband, she lived upon the best of\nterms.  M. de Francueil was fond of talents in others, and cultivated\nthose he possessed.  Music, which he understood very well, was a means\nof producing a connection between us.  I frequently saw him, and he soon\ngained my friendship.  He, however, suddenly gave me to understand that\nMadam Dupin thought my visits too frequent, and begged me to discontinue\nthem.  Such a compliment would have been proper when she returned my\nletter; but eight or ten days afterwards, and without any new cause, it\nappeared to me ill-timed.  This rendered my situation the more singular,\nas M. and Madam de Francueil still continued to give me the same good\nreception as before.\n\nI however made the intervals between my visits longer, and I should\nentirely have ceased calling on them, had not Madam Dupin, by another\nunexpected caprice, sent to desire I would for a few days take care of\nher son, who changing his preceptor, remained alone during that interval.\nI passed eight days in such torments as nothing but the pleasure of\nobeying Madam Dupin could render supportable: I would not have undertaken\nto pass eight other days like them had Madam Dupin given me herself for\nthe recompense.\n\nM. de Francueil conceived a friendship for me, and I studied with him.\nWe began together a course of chemistry at Rouelles.  That I might be\nnearer at hand, I left my hotel at Quentin, and went to lodge at the\nTennis Court, Rue Verdelet, which leads into the Rue Platiere, where M.\nDupin lived.  There, in consequence of a cold neglected, I contracted an\ninflammation of the lungs that had liked to have carried me off.  In my\nyounger days I frequently suffered from inflammatory disorders,\npleurisies, and especially quinsies, to which I was very subject, and\nwhich frequently brought me near enough to death to familiarize me to its\nimage.\n\nDuring my convalescence I had leisure to reflect upon my situation, and\nto lament my timidity, weakness and indolence; these, notwithstanding the\nfire with which I found myself inflamed, left me to languish in an\ninactivity of mind, continually on the verge of misery.  The evening\npreceding the day on which I was taken ill, I went to an opera by Royer;\nthe name I have forgotten.  Notwithstanding my prejudice in favor of the\ntalents of others, which has ever made me distrustful of my own, I still\nthought the music feeble, and devoid of animation and invention.  I\nsometimes had the vanity to flatter myself: I think I could do better\nthan that.  But the terrible idea I had formed of the composition of an\nopera, and the importance I heard men of the profession affix to such an\nundertaking, instantly discouraged me, and made me blush at having so\nmuch as thought of it.  Besides, where was I to find a person to write\nthe words, and one who would give himself the trouble of turning the\npoetry to my liking?  These ideas of music and the opera had possession\nof my mind during my illness, and in the delirium of my fever I composed\nsongs, duets, and choruses.  I am certain I composed two or three little\npieces, 'di prima infenzione', perhaps worthy of the admiration of\nmasters, could they have heard them executed.  Oh, could an account be\ntaken of the dreams of a man in a fever, what great and sublime things\nwould sometimes proceed from his delirium!\n\nThese subjects of music and opera still engaged my attention during my\nconvalescence, but my ideas were less energetic.  Long and frequent\nmeditations, and which were often involuntary, and made such an\nimpression upon my mind that I resolved to attempt both words and music.\nThis was not the first time I had undertaken so difficult a task.  Whilst\nI was at Chambery I had composed an opera entitled 'Iphis and Anaxarete',\nwhich I had the good sense to throw into the fire.  At Lyons I had\ncomposed another, entitled 'La Decouverte du Nouveau Monde', which, after\nhaving read it to M. Bordes, the Abbes Malby, Trublet, and others, had\nmet the same fate, notwithstanding I had set the prologue and the first\nact to music, and although David, after examining the composition, had\ntold me there were passages in it worthy of Buononcini.\n\nBefore I began the work I took time to consider of my plan.  In a heroic\nballet I proposed three different subjects, in three acts, detached from\neach other, set to music of a different character, taking for each\nsubject the amours of a poet.  I entitled this opera Les Muses Galantes.\nMy first act, in music strongly characterized, was Tasso; the second in\ntender harmony, Ovid; and the third, entitled Anacreon, was to partake of\nthe gayety of the dithyrambus.  I tried my skill on the first act, and\napplied to it with an ardor which, for the first time, made me feel the\ndelightful sensation produced by the creative power of composition.  One\nevening, as I entered the opera, feeling myself strongly incited and\noverpowered by my ideas, I put my money again into my pocket, returned to\nmy apartment, locked the door, and, having close drawn all the curtains,\nthat every ray of light might be excluded, I went to bed, abandoning\nmyself entirely to this musical and poetical 'oestrum', and in seven or\neight hours rapidly composed the greatest part of an act.  I can truly\nsay my love for the Princess of Ferrara (for I was Tasso for the moment)\nand my noble and lofty sentiment with respect to her unjust brother,\nprocured me a night a hundred times more delicious than one passed in the\narms of the princess would have been.  In the morning but a very little\nof what I had done remained in my head, but this little, almost effaced\nby sleep and lassitude, still sufficiently evinced the energy of the\npieces of which it was the scattered remains.\n\nI this time did, not proceed far with my undertaking, being interrupted\nby other affairs.  Whilst I attached myself to the family of Dupin, Madam\nde Beuzenval and Madam de Broglie, whom I continued to visit, had not\nforgotten me.  The Count de Montaigu, captain in the guards, had just\nbeen appointed ambassador to Venice.  He was an ambassador made by\nBarjac, to whom he assiduously paid his court.  His brother, the\nChevalier de Montaigu, 'gentilhomme de la manche' to the dauphin, was\nacquainted with these ladies, and with the Abbe Alary of the French\nacademy, whom I sometimes visited.  Madam de Broglie having heard the\nambassador was seeking a secretary, proposed me to him.  A conference was\nopened between us.  I asked a salary of fifty guineas, a trifle for an\nemployment which required me to make some appearance.  The ambassador was\nunwilling to give more than a thousand livres, leaving me to make the\njourney at my own expense.  The proposal was ridiculous.  We could not\nagree, and M. de Francueil, who used all his efforts to prevent my\ndeparture, prevailed.\n\nI stayed, and M. de Montaigu set out on his journey, taking with him\nanother secretary, one M. Follau, who had been recommended to him by the\noffice of foreign affairs.  They no sooner arrived at Venice than they\nquarrelled.  Bollau perceiving he had to do with a madman, left him\nthere, and M. de Montaigu having nobody with him, except a young abbe of\nthe name of Binis, who wrote under the secretary, and was unfit to\nsucceed him, had recourse to me.  The chevalier, his brother, a man of\nwit, by giving me to understand there were advantages annexed to the\nplace of secretary, prevailed upon me to accept the thousand livres.\nI was paid twenty louis in advance for my journey, and immediately\ndeparted.\n\nAt Lyons I would most willingly have taken the road to Mount Cenis, to\nsee my poor mamma.  But I went down the Rhone, and embarked at Toulon, as\nwell on account of the war, and from a motive of economy, as to obtain a\npassport from M. de Mirepoix, who then commanded in Provence, and to whom\nI was recommended.  M. de Montaigu not being able to do without me, wrote\nletter after letter, desiring I would hasten my journey; this, however,\nan accident considerably prolonged.\n\nIt was at the time of the plague at Messina, and the English fleet had\nanchored there, and visited the Felucca, on board of which I was, and\nthis circumstance subjected us, on our arrival, after a long and\ndifficult voyage, to a quarantine of one--and--twenty days.\n\nThe passengers had the choice of performing it on board or in the\nLazaretto, which we were told was not yet furnished.  They all chose the\nFelucca.  The insupportable heat, the closeness of the vessel, the\nimpossibility of walking in it, and the vermin with which it swarmed,\nmade me at all risks prefer the Lazaretto.  I was therefore conducted to\na large building of two stories, quite empty, in which I found neither\nwindow, bed, table, nor chair, not so much as even a joint-stool or\nbundle of straw.  My night sack and my two trunks being brought me, I was\nshut in by great doors with huge locks, and remained at full liberty to\nwalk at my ease from chamber to chamber and story to story, everywhere\nfinding the same solitude and nakedness.\n\nThis, however, did not induce me to repent that I had preferred the\nLazaretto to the Felucca; and, like another Robinson Crusoe, I began to\narrange myself for my one-and twenty days, just as I should have done for\nmy whole life.  In the first place, I had the amusement of destroying the\nvermin I had caught in the Felucca.  As soon as I had got clear of these,\nby means of changing my clothes and linen, I proceeded to furnish the\nchamber I had chosen.  I made a good mattress with my waistcoats and\nshirts; my napkins I converted, by sewing them together, into sheets; my\nrobe de chambre into a counterpane; and my cloak into a pillow.  I made\nmyself a seat with one of my trunks laid flat, and a table with the\nother.  I took out some writing paper and an inkstand, and distributed,\nin the manner of a library, a dozen books which I had with me.  In a\nword, I so well arranged my few movables, that except curtains and\nwindows, I was almost as commodiously lodged in this Lazeretto,\nabsolutely empty as it was, as I had been at the Tennis Court in the Rue\nVerdelet.  My dinners were served with no small degree of pomp; they were\nescorted by two grenadiers with bayonets fixed; the staircase was my\ndining--room, the landing-place my table, and the steps served me for a\nseat; and as soon as my dinner was served up a little bell was rung to\ninform me I might sit down to table.\n\nBetween my repasts, when I did not either read or write or work at the\nfurnishing of my apartment, I went to walk in the burying-ground of the\nProtestants, which served me as a courtyard.  From this place I ascended\nto a lanthorn which looked into the harbor, and from which I could see\nthe ships come in and go out.  In this manner I passed fourteen days, and\nshould have thus passed the whole time of the quarantine without the\nleast weariness had not M. Joinville, envoy from France, to whom I found\nmeans to send a letter, vinegared, perfumed, and half burnt, procured\neight days of the time to be taken off: these I went and spent at his\nhouse, where I confess I found myself better lodged than in the\nLazaretto.  He was extremely civil to me.  Dupont, his secretary, was a\ngood creature: he introduced me, as well at Genoa as in the country, to\nseveral families, the company of which I found very entertaining and\nagreeable; and I formed with him an acquaintance and a correspondence\nwhich we kept up for a considerable length of time.  I continued my\njourney, very agreeably, through Lombardy.  I saw Milan, Verona, Brescie,\nand Padua, and at length arrived at Venice, where I was impatiently\nexpected by the ambassador.\n\nI found there piles of despatches, from the court and from other\nambassadors, the ciphered part of which he had not been able to read,\nalthough he had all the ciphers necessary for that purpose, never having\nbeen employed in any office, nor even seen the cipher of a minister.  I\nwas at first apprehensive of meeting with some embarrassment; but I found\nnothing could be more easy, and in less than a week I had deciphered the\nwhole, which certainly was not worth the trouble; for not to mention the\nlittle activity required in the embassy of Venice, it was not to such a\nman as M. de Montaigu that government would confide a negotiation of even\nthe most trifling importance.  Until my arrival he had been much\nembarrassed, neither knowing how to dictate nor to write legibly.  I was\nvery useful to him, of which he was sensible; and he treated me well.  To\nthis he was also induced by another motive.  Since the time of M. de\nFroulay, his predecessor, whose head became deranged, the consul from\nFrance, M. le Blond, had been charged with the affairs of the embassy,\nand after the arrival of M. de Montaigu, continued to manage them until\nhe had put him into the track.  M. de Montaigu, hurt at this discharge of\nhis duty by another, although he himself was incapable of it, became\ndisgusted with the consul, and as soon as I arrived deprived him of the\nfunctions of secretary to the embassy to give them to me.  They were\ninseparable from the title, and he told me to take it.  As long as I\nremained with him he never sent any person except myself under this title\nto the senate, or to conference, and upon the whole it was natural enough\nhe should prefer having for secretary to the embassy a man attached to\nhim, to a consul or a clerk of office named by the court.\n\nThis rendered my situation very agreeable, and prevented his gentlemen,\nwho were Italians, as well as his pages, and most of his suite from\ndisputing precedence with me in his house.  I made an advantageous use of\nthe authority annexed to the title he had conferred upon me, by\nmaintaining his right of protection, that is, the freedom of his\nneighborhood, against the attempts several times made to infringe it;\na privilege which his Venetian officers took no care to defend.\nBut I never permitted banditti to take refuge there, although this would\nhave produced me advantages of which his excellency would not have\ndisdained to partake.  He thought proper, however, to claim a part of\nthose of the secretaryship, which is called the chancery.  It was in time\nof war, and there were many passports issued.  For each of these\npassports a sequin was paid to the secretary who made it out and\ncountersigned it.  All my predecessors had been paid this sequin by\nFrenchmen and others without distinction.  I thought this unjust, and\nalthough I was not a Frenchman, I abolished it in favor of the French;\nbut I so rigorously demanded my right from persons of every other nation,\nthat the Marquis de Scotti, brother to the favorite of the Queen of\nSpain, having asked for a passport without taking notice of the sequin: I\nsent to demand it; a boldness which the vindictive Italian did not\nforget.  As soon as the new regulation I had made, relative to passports,\nwas known, none but pretended Frenchmen, who in a gibberish the most\nmispronounced, called themselves Provencals, Picards, or Burgundians,\ncame to demand them.  My ear being very fine, I was not thus made a dupe,\nand I am almost persuaded that not a single Italian ever cheated me of my\nsequin, and that not one Frenchman ever paid it.  I was foolish enough to\ntell M. de Montaigu, who was ignorant of everything that passed, what I\nhad done.  The word sequin made him open his ears, and without giving me\nhis opinion of the abolition of that tax upon the French, he pretended I\nought to account with him for the others, promising me at the same time\nequivalent advantages.  More filled with indignation at this meanness,\nthan concern for my own interest,  I rejected his proposal.  He insisted,\nand I grew warm.  \"No, sir,\" said I, with some heat, \"your excellency may\nkeep what belongs to you, but do not take from me that which is mine; I\nwill not suffer you to touch a penny of the perquisites arising from\npassports.\"  Perceiving he could gain nothing by these means he had\nrecourse to others, and blushed not to tell me that since I had\nappropriated to myself the profits of the chancery, it was but just I\nshould pay the expenses.  I was unwilling to dispute upon this subject,\nand from that time I furnished at my own expense, ink, paper, wax,\nwax-candle, tape, and even a new seal, for which he never reimbursed me\nto the amount of a farthing.  This, however, did not prevent my giving a\nsmall part of the produce of the passports to the Abbe de Binis, a good\ncreature, and who was far from pretending to have the least right to any\nsuch thing.  If he was obliging to me my politeness to him was an\nequivalent, and we always lived together on the best of terms.\n\nOn the first trial I made of his talents in my official functions,\nI found him less troublesome than I expected he would have been,\nconsidering he was a man without experience, in the service of an\nambassador who possessed no more than himself, and whose ignorance and\nobstinacy constantly counteracted everything with which common-sense and\nsome information inspired me for his service and that of the king.  The\nnext thing the ambassador did was to connect himself with the Marquis\nMari, ambassador from Spain, an ingenious and artful man, who, had he\nwished so to do, might have led him by the nose, yet on account of the\nunion of the interests of the two crowns he generally gave him good\nadvice, which might have been of essential service, had not the other, by\njoining his own opinion, counteracted it in the execution.  The only\nbusiness they had to conduct in concert with each other was to engage the\nVenetians to maintain their neutrality.  These did not neglect to give\nthe strongest assurances of their fidelity to their engagement at the\nsame time that they publicly furnished ammunition to the Austrian troops,\nand even recruits under pretense of desertion.  M. de Montaigu, who I\nbelieve wished to render himself agreeable to the republic, failed not on\nhis part, notwithstanding my representation to make me assure the\ngovernment in all my despatches, that the Venetians would never violate\nan article of the neutrality.  The obstinacy and stupidity of this poor\nwretch made me write and act extravagantly: I was obliged to be the agent\nof his folly, because he would have it so, but he sometimes rendered my\nemployment insupportable and the functions of it almost impracticable.\nFor example, he insisted on the greatest part of his despatches to the\nking, and of those to the minister, being written in cipher, although\nneither of them contained anything that required that precaution.  I\nrepresented to him that between the Friday, the day the despatches from\nthe court arrived, and Saturday, on which ours were sent off, there was\nnot sufficient time to write so much in cipher, and carry on the\nconsiderable correspondence with which I was charged for the same\ncourier.  He found an admirable expedient, which was to prepare on\nThursday the answer to the despatches we were expected to receive on the\nnext day.  This appeared to him so happily imagined, that notwithstanding\nall I could say on the impossibility of the thing, and the absurdity of\nattempting its execution, I was obliged to comply during the whole time I\nafterwards remained with him, after having made notes of the few loose\nwords he spoke to me in the course of the week, and of some trivial\ncircumstances which I collected by hurrying from place to place.\nProvided with these materials I never once failed carrying to him on the\nThursday morning a rough draft of the despatches which were to be sent\noff on Saturday, excepting the few additions and corrections I hastily\nmade in answer to the letters which arrived on the Friday, and to which\nours served for answer.  He had another custom, diverting enough and\nwhich made his correspondence ridiculous beyond imagination.  He sent\nback all information to its respective source, instead of making it\nfollow its course.  To M. Amelot he transmitted the news of the court; to\nM. Maurepas, that of Paris; to M. d' Havrincourt, the news from Sweden;\nto M. de Chetardie, that from Petersbourg; and sometimes to each of those\nthe news they had respectively sent to him, and which I was employed to\ndress up in terms different from those in which it was conveyed to us.\nAs he read nothing of what I laid before him, except the despatches for\nthe court, and signed those to other ambassadors without reading them,\nthis left me more at liberty to give what turn I thought proper to the\nlatter, and in these therefore I made the articles of information cross\neach other.  But it was impossible for-me to do the same by despatches of\nimportance; and I thought myself happy when M. de Montaigu did not take\nit into his head to cram into them an impromptu of a few lines after his\nmanner.  This obliged me to return, and hastily transcribe the whole\ndespatch decorated with his new nonsense, and honor it with the cipher,\nwithout which he would have refused his signature.  I was frequently\nalmost tempted, for the sake of his reputation, to cipher something\ndifferent from what he had written, but feeling that nothing could\nauthorize such a deception, I left him to answer for his own folly,\nsatisfying myself with having spoken to him with freedom, and discharged\nat my own peril the duties of my station.  This is what I always did with\nan uprightness, a zeal and courage, which merited on his part a very\ndifferent recompense from that which in the end I received from him.  It\nwas time I should once be what Heaven, which had endowed me with a happy\ndisposition, what the education that had been given me by the best of\nwomen, and that I had given myself, had prepared me for, and I became so.\nLeft to my own reflections, without a friend or advice, without\nexperience, and in a foreign country, in the service of a foreign nation,\nsurrounded by a crowd of knaves, who, for their own interest, and to\navoid the scandal of good example, endeavored to prevail upon me to\nimitate them; far from yielding to their solicitations, I served France\nwell, to which I owed nothing, and the ambassador still better, as it was\nright and just I should do to the utmost of my power.  Irreproachable in\na post, sufficiently exposed to censure, I merited and obtained the\nesteem of the republic, that of all the ambassadors with whom we were in\ncorrespondence, and the affection of the French who resided at Venice,\nnot even excepting the consul, whom with regret I supplanted in the\nfunctions which I knew belonged to him, and which occasioned me more\nembarrassment than they afforded me satisfaction.\n\nM. de Montaigu, confiding without reserve to the Marquis Mari, who did\nnot thoroughly understand his duty, neglected it to such a degree that\nwithout me the French who were at Venice would not have perceived that an\nambassador from their nation resided there.  Always put off without being\nheard when they stood in need of his protection, they became disgusted\nand no longer appeared in his company or at his table, to which indeed he\nnever invited them.  I frequently did from myself what it was his duty to\nhave done; I rendered to the French, who applied to me, all the services\nin my power.  In any other country I should have done more, but, on\naccount of my employment, not being able to see persons in place, I was\noften obliged to apply to the consul, and the consul, who was settled in\nthe country with his family, had many persons to oblige, which prevented\nhim from acting as he otherwise would have done.  However, perceiving him\nunwilling and afraid to speak, I ventured hazardous measures, which\nsometimes succeeded.  I recollect one which still makes me laugh.  No\nperson would suspect it was to me, the lovers of the theatre at Paris,\nowe Coralline and her sister Camille, nothing however, can be more true.\nVeronese, their father, had engaged himself with his children in the\nItalian company, and after having received two thousand livres for the\nexpenses of his journey, instead of setting out for France, quietly\ncontinued at Venice, and accepted an engagement in the theatre of Saint\nLuke, to which Coralline, a child as she still was, drew great numbers of\npeople.  The Duke de Greves, as first gentleman of the chamber, wrote to\nthe ambassador to claim the father and the daughter.  M. de Montaigu when\nhe gave me the letter, confined his instructions to saying, 'voyez cela',\nexamine and pay attention to this.  I went to M. Blond to beg he would\nspeak to the patrician, to whom the theatre belonged, and who, I believe,\nwas named Zustinian, that he might discharge Veronese, who had engaged in\nthe name of the king.  Le Blond, to whom the commission was not very\nagreeable, executed it badly.\n\nZustinian answered vaguely, and Veronese was not discharged.  I was\npiqued at this.  It was during the carnival, and having taken the bahute\nand a mask, I set out for the palace Zustinian.  Those who saw my gondola\narrive with the livery of the ambassador, were lost in astonishment.\nVenice had never seen such a thing.  I entered, and caused myself to be\nannounced by the name of 'Una Siora Masehera'.  As soon as I was\nintroduced I took off my mask and told my name.  The senator turned pale\nand appeared stupefied with surprise.  \"Sir;\" said I to him in Venetian,\n\"it is with much regret I importune your excellency with this visit; but\nyou have in your theatre of Saint Luke, a man of the name of Veronese,\nwho is engaged in the service of the king, and whom you have been\nrequested, but in vain, to give up: I come to claim him in the name of\nhis majesty.\"  My short harangue was effectual.  I had no sooner left the\npalace than Zustinian ran to communicate the adventure to the state\ninquisitors, by whom he was severely reprehended.  Veronese was\ndischarged the same day.  I sent him word that if he did not set off\nwithin a week I would have him arrested.  He did not wait for my giving\nhim this intimation a second time.\n\nOn another occasion I relieved from difficulty solely by my own means,\nand almost without the assistance of any other person, the captain of a\nmerchant-ship.  This was one Captain Olivet, from Marseilles; the name of\nthe vessel I have forgotten.  His men had quarreled with the Sclavonians\nin the service of the republic, some violence had been committed, and the\nvessel was under so severe an embargo that nobody except the master was\nsuffered to go on board or leave it without permission.  He applied to\nthe ambassador, who would hear nothing he had to say.  He afterwards went\nto the consul, who told him it was not an affair of commerce, and that he\ncould not interfere in it.  Not knowing what further steps to take he\napplied to me.  I told M. de Montaigu he ought to permit me to lay before\nthe senate a memoir on the subject.  I do not recollect whether or not he\nconsented, or that I presented the memoir; but I perfectly remember that\nif I did it was ineffectual, and the embargo still continuing, I took\nanother method, which succeeded.  I inserted a relation of the affairs in\none of our letters to M. de Maurepas, though I had difficulty in\nprevailing upon M. de Montaigne to suffer the article to pass.\n\nI knew that our despatches, although their contents were insignificant,\nwere opened at Venice.  Of this I had a proof by finding the articles\nthey contained, verbatim in the gazette, a treachery of which I had in\nvain attempted to prevail upon the ambassador to complain.  My object in\nspeaking of the affair in the letter was to turn the curiosity of the\nministers of the republic to advantage, to inspire them with some\napprehensions, and to induce the state to release the vessel: for had it\nbeen necessary to this effect to wait for an answer from the court, the\ncaptain would have been ruined before it could have arrived.  I did still\nmore, I went alongside the vessel to make inquiries of the ship's\ncompany.  I took with me the Abbe Patizel, chancellor of the consulship,\nwho would rather have been excused, so much were these poor creatures\nafraid of displeasing the Senate.  As I could not go on board, on account\nof the order from the states, I remained in my gondola, and there took\nthe depositions successively, interrogating each of the mariners, and\ndirecting my questions in such a manner as to produce answers which might\nbe to their advantage.  I wished to prevail upon Patizel to put the\nquestions and take depositions himself, which in fact was more his\nbusiness than mine; but to this he would not consent; he never once\nopened his mouth and refused to sign the depositions after me.  This\nstep, somewhat bold, was however, successful, and the vessel was released\nlong before an answer came from the minister.  The captain wished to make\nme a present; but without being angry with him on that account, I tapped\nhim on the shoulder, saying, \"Captain Olivet, can you imagine that he who\ndoes not receive from the French his perquisite for passports, which he\nfound his established right, is a man likely to sell them the king's\nprotection?\"  He, however, insisted on giving me a dinner on board his\nvessel, which I accepted, and took with me the secretary to the Spanish\nembassy, M. Carrio, a man of wit and amiable manners, to partake of it:\nhe has since been secretary to the Spanish embassy at Paris and charge\ndes affaires.  I had formed an intimate connection with him after the\nexample of our ambassadors.\n\nHappy should I have been, if, when in the most disinterested manner I did\nall the service I could, I had known how to introduce sufficient order\ninto all these little details, that I might not have served others at my\nown expense.  But in employments similar to that I held, in which the\nmost trifling faults are of consequence, my whole attention was engaged\nin avoiding all such mistakes as might be detrimental to my service.  I\nconducted, till the last moment, everything relative to my immediate\nduty, with the greatest order and exactness.  Excepting a few errors\nwhich a forced precipitation made me commit in ciphering, and of which\nthe clerks of M. Amelot once complained, neither the ambassador nor any\nother person had ever the least reason to reproach me with negligence in\nany one of my functions.  This is remarkable in a man so negligent as I\nam.  But my memory sometimes failed me, and I was not sufficiently\ncareful in the private affairs with which I was charged; however, a love\nof justice always made me take the loss on myself, and this voluntarily,\nbefore anybody thought of complaining.  I will mention but one\ncircumstance of this nature; it relates to my departure from Venice, and\nI afterwards felt the effects of it in Paris.\n\nOur cook, whose name was Rousselot, had brought from France an old note\nfor two hundred livres, which a hairdresser, a friend of his, had\nreceived from a noble Venetian of the name of Zanetto Nani, who had had\nwigs of him to that amount.  Rousselot brought me the note, begging I\nwould endeavor to obtain payment of some part of it, by way of\naccommodation.  I knew, and he knew it also, that the constant custom of\nnoble Venetians was, when once returned to their country, never to pay\nthe debts they had contracted abroad.  When means are taken to force them\nto payment, the wretched creditor finds so many delays, and incurs such\nenormous expenses, that he becomes disgusted and concludes by giving up\nhis debtor accepting the most trifling composition.  I begged M. le Blond\nto speak to Zanetto.  The Venetian acknowledged the note, but did not\nagree to payment.  After a long dispute he at length promised three\nsequins; but when Le Blond carried him the note even these were not\nready, and it was necessary to wait.  In this interval happened my\nquarrel with the ambassador and I quitted his service.  I had left the\npapers of the embassy in the greatest order, but the note of Rousselot\nwas not to be found.  M. le Blond assured me he had given it me back.  I\nknew him to be too honest a man to have the least doubt of the matter;\nbut it was impossible for me to recollect what I had done with it.  As\nZanetto had acknowledged the debt, I desired M. le Blond to endeavor to\nobtain from him the three sequins on giving him a receipt for the amount,\nor to prevail upon him to renew the note by way of duplicate.  Zanetto,\nknowing the note to be lost, would not agree to either.  I offered\nRousselot the three sequins from my own purse, as a discharge of the\ndebt.  He refused them, and said I might settle the matter with the\ncreditor at Paris, of whom he gave me the address.  The hair-dresser,\nhaving been informed of what had passed, would either have his note or\nthe whole sum for which it was given.  What, in my indignation, would I\nhave given to have found this vexatious paper!  I paid the two hundred\nlivres, and that in my greatest distress.  In this manner the loss of the\nnote produced to the creditor the payment of the whole sum, whereas had\nit, unfortunately for him, been found, he would have had some difficulty\nin recovering even the ten crowns, which his excellency, Zanetto Nani,\nhad promised to pay.\n\nThe talents I thought I felt in myself for my employment made me\ndischarge the functions of it with satisfaction, and except the society\nof my friend de Carrio, that of the virtuous Altuna, of whom I shall soon\nhave an occasion to speak, the innocent recreations of the place Saint\nMark, of the theatre, and of a few visits which we, for the most part,\nmade together, my only pleasure was in the duties of my station.\nAlthough these were not considerable, especially with the aid of the Abbe\nde Binis, yet as the correspondence was very extensive and there was a\nwar, I was a good deal employed.  I applied to business the greatest part\nof every morning, and on the days previous to the departure of the\ncourier, in the evenings, and sometimes till midnight.  The rest of my\ntime I gave to the study of the political professions I had entered upon,\nand in which I hoped, from my successful beginning, to be advantageously\nemployed.  In fact I was in favor with every one; the ambassador himself\nspoke highly of my services, and never complained of anything I did for\nhim; his dissatisfaction proceeded from my having insisted on quitting\nhim, inconsequence of the useless complaints I had frequently made on\nseveral occasions.  The ambassadors and ministers of the king with whom\nwe were in correspondence complimented him on the merit of his secretary,\nin a manner by which he ought to have been flattered, but which in his\npoor head produced quite a contrary effect.  He received one in\nparticular relative to an affair of importance, for which he never\npardoned me.\n\nHe was so incapable of bearing the least constraint, that on the\nSaturday, the day of the despatches for most of the courts he could not\ncontain himself, and wait till the business was done before he went out,\nand incessantly pressing me to hasten the despatches to the king and\nministers, he signed them with precipitation, and immediately went I know\nnot where, leaving most of the other letters without signing; this\nobliged me, when these contained nothing but news, to convert them into\njournals; but when affairs which related to the king were in question it\nwas necessary somebody should sign, and I did it.  This once happened\nrelative to some important advice we had just received from M. Vincent,\ncharge des affaires from the king, at Vienna.  The Prince Lobkowitz was\nthen marching to Naples, and Count Gages had just made the most memorable\nretreat, the finest military manoeuvre of the whole century, of which\nEurope has not sufficiently spoken.  The despatch informed us that a man,\nwhose person M. Vincent described, had set out from Vienna, and was to\npass by Venice, in his way into Abruzzo, where he was secretly to stir up\nthe people at the approach of the Austrians.\n\nIn the absence of M. le Comte de Montaigu, who did not give himself the\nleast concern about anything, I forwarded this advice to the Marquis de\nl'Hopital, so apropos, that it is perhaps to the poor Jean Jacques, so\nabused and laughed at, that the house of Bourbon owes the preservation of\nthe kingdom of Naples.\n\nThe Marquis de l'Hopital, when he thanked his colleague, as it was proper\nhe should do, spoke to him of his secretary, and mentioned the service he\nhad just rendered to the common cause.  The Comte de Montaigu, who in\nthat affair had to reproach himself with negligence, thought he perceived\nin the compliment paid him by M. de l'Hopital, something like a reproach,\nand spoke of it to me with signs of ill-humor.  I found it necessary to\nact in the same manner with the Count de Castellane, ambassador at\nConstantinople, as I had done with the Marquis de l'Hopital, although in\nthings of less importance.  As there was no other conveyance to\nConstantinople than by couriers, sent from time to time by the senate to\nits Bailli, advice of their departure was given to the ambassador of\nFrance, that he might write by them to his colleague, if he thought\nproper so to do.  This advice was commonly sent a day or two beforehand;\nbut M. de Montaigu was held in so little respect, that merely for the\nsake of form he was sent to, a couple of hours before the couriers set\noff.  This frequently obliged me to write the despatch in his absence.\nM. de Castellane, in his answer made honorable mention of me; M. de\nJonville, at Genoa, did the same, and these instances of their regard and\nesteem became new grievances.\n\nI acknowledge I did not neglect any opportunity of making myself known;\nbut I never sought one improperly, and in serving well I thought I had a\nright to aspire to the natural return for essential services; the esteem\nof those capable of judging of, and rewarding them.  I will not say\nwhether or not my exactness in discharging the duties of my employment\nwas a just subject of complaint from the ambassador; but I cannot refrain\nfrom declaring that it was the sole grievance he ever mentioned previous\nto our separation.\n\nHis house, which he had never put on a good footing, was constantly\nfilled with rabble; the French were ill-treated in it, and the ascendancy\nwas given to the Italians; of these even, the more honest part, they who\nhad long been in the service of the embassy, were indecently discharged,\nhis first gentleman in particular, whom he had taken from the Comte de\nFroulay, and who, if I remember right, was called Comte de Peati, or\nsomething very like that name.  The second gentleman, chosen by M. de\nMontaigu, was an outlaw highwayman from Mantua, called Dominic Vitali, to\nwhom the ambassador intrusted the care of his house, and who had by means\nof flattery and sordid economy, obtained his confidence, and became his\nfavorite to the great prejudice of the few honest people he still had\nabout him, and of the secretary who was at their head.  The countenance\nof an upright man always gives inquietude to knaves.  Nothing more was\nnecessary to make Vitali conceive a hatred against me: but for this\nsentiment there was still another cause which rendered it more cruel.  Of\nthis I must give an account, that I may be condemned if I am found in the\nwrong.\n\nThe ambassador had, according to custom, a box at each of the theaters.\nEvery day at dinner he named the theater to which it was his intention to\ngo: I chose after him, and the gentlemen disposed of the other boxes.\nWhen I went out I took the key of the box I had chosen.  One day, Vitali\nnot being in the way, I ordered the footman who attended on me, to bring\nme the key to a house which I named to him.  Vitali, instead of sending\nthe key, said he had disposed of it.  I was the more enraged at this as\nthe footman delivered his message in public.  In the evening Vitali\nwished to make me some apology, to which however I would not listen.\n\"To--morrow, sir,\" said I to him, \"you will come at such an hour and\napologize to me in the house where I received the affront, and in the\npresence of the persons who were witnesses to it; or after to--morrow,\nwhatever may be the consequences, either you or I will leave the house.\"\nThis firmness intimidated him.  He came to the house at the hour\nappointed, and made me a public apology, with a meanness worthy of\nhimself.  But he afterwards took his measures at leisure, and at the same\ntime that he cringed to me in public, he secretly acted in so vile a\nmanner, that although unable to prevail on the ambassador to give me my\ndismission, he laid me under the necessity of resolving to leave him.\n\nA wretch like him, certainly, could not know me, but he knew enough of my\ncharacter to make it serviceable to his purposes.  He knew I was mild to\nan excess, and patient in bearing involuntary wrongs; but haughty and\nimpatient when insulted with premeditated offences; loving decency and\ndignity in things in which these were requisite, and not more exact in\nrequiring the respect due to myself, than attentive in rendering that\nwhich I owed to others.  In this he undertook to disgust me, and in this\nhe succeeded.  He turned the house upside down, and destroyed the order\nand subordination I had endeavored to establish in it.  A house without a\nwoman stands in need of rather a severe discipline to preserve that\nmodesty which is inseparable from dignity.  He soon converted ours into a\nplace of filthy debauch and scandalous licentiousness, the haunt of\nknaves and debauchees.  He procured for second gentleman to his\nexcellency, in the place of him whom he got discharged, another pimp like\nhimself, who kept a house of ill--fame, at the Cross of Malta; and the\nindecency of these two rascals was equalled by nothing but their\ninsolence.  Except the bed-chamber of the ambassador, which, however, was\nnot in very good order, there was not a corner in the whole house\nsupportable to an modest man.\n\nAs his excellency did not sup, the gentleman and myself had a private\ntable, at which the Abbe Binis and the pages also eat.  In the most\npaltry ale-house people are served with more cleanliness and decency,\nhave cleaner linen, and a table better supplied.  We had but one little\nand very filthy candle, pewter plates, and iron forks.\n\nI could have overlooked what passed in secret, but I was deprived of my\ngondola.  I was the only secretary to an ambassador, who was obliged to\nhire one or go on foot, and the livery of his excellency no longer\naccompanied me, except when I went to the senate.  Besides, everything\nwhich passed in the house was known in the city.  All those who were in\nthe service of the other ambassadors loudly exclaimed; Dominic, the only\ncause of all, exclaimed louder than anybody, well knowing the indecency\nwith which we were treated was more affecting to me than to any other\nperson.  Though I was the only one in the house who said nothing of the\nmatter abroad, I complained loudly of it to the ambassador, as well as of\nhimself, who, secretly excited by the wretch, entirely devoted to his\nwill, daily made me suffer some new affront.  Obliged to spend a good\ndeal to keep up a footing with those in the same situation with myself,\nand to make are appearance proper to my employment, I could not touch a\nfarthing of my salary, and when I asked him for money, he spoke of his\nesteem for me, and his confidence, as if either of these could have\nfilled my purse, and provided for everything.\n\nThese two banditti at length quite turned the head of their master, who\nnaturally had not a good one, and ruined him by a continual traffic, and\nby bargains, of which he was the dupe, whilst they persuaded him they\nwere greatly in his favor.  They persuaded him to take upon the Brenta, a\nPalazzo, at twice the rent it was worth, and divided the surplus with the\nproprietor.  The apartments were inlaid with mosaic, and ornamented with\ncolumns and pilasters, in the taste of the country.  M. de Montaigu, had\nall these superbly masked by fir wainscoting, for no other reason than\nbecause at Paris apartments were thus fitted up.  It was for a similar\nreason that he only, of all the ambassadors who were at Venice, took from\nhis pages their swords, and from his footmen their canes.  Such was the\nman, who, perhaps from the same motive took a dislike to me on account of\nmy serving him faithfully.\n\nI patiently endured his disdain, his brutality, and ill-treatment, as\nlong as, perceiving them accompanied by ill-humor, I thought they had in\nthem no portion of hatred; but the moment I saw the design formed of\ndepriving me of the honor I merited by my faithful services, I resolved\nto resign my employment.  The first mark I received of his ill will was\nrelative to a dinner he was to give to the Duke of Modena and his family,\nwho were at Venice, and at which he signified to me I should not be\npresent.  I answered, piqued, but not angry, that having the honor daily\nto dine at his table, if the Duke of Modena, when he came, required I\nshould not appear at it, my duty as well as the dignity of his excellency\nwould not suffer me to consent to such a request.  \"How;\" said he\npassionately, \"my secretary, who is not a gentleman, pretends to dine\nwith a sovereign when my gentlemen do not!\"  \"Yes, sir,\" replied I, \"the\npost with which your excellency has honored me, as long as I discharge\nthe functions of it, so far ennobles me that my rank is superior to that\nof your gentlemen or of the persons calling themselves such; and I am\nadmitted where they cannot appear.  You cannot but know that on the day\non which you shall make your public entry, I am called to the ceremony by\netiquette; and by an immemorial custom, to follow you in a dress of\nceremony, and afterwards to dine with you at the palace of St. Mark; and\nI know not why a man who has a right and is to eat in public with the\ndoge and the senate of Venice should not eat in private with the Duke of\nModena.\"  Though this argument was unanswerable, it did not convince the\nambassador; but we had no occasion to renew the dispute, as the Duke of\nModena did not come to dine with him.\n\nFrom that moment he did everything in his power to make things\ndisagreeable to me; and endeavored unjustly to deprive me of my rights,\nby taking from me the pecuniary advantages annexed to my employment, to\ngive them to his dear Vitali; and I am convinced that had he dared to\nsend him to the senate, in my place, he would have done it.  He commonly\nemployed the Abbe Binis in his closet, to write his private letters: he\nmade use of him to write to M. de Maurepas an account of the affair of\nCaptain Olivet, in which, far from taking the least notice of me, the\nonly person who gave himself any concern about the matter, he deprived me\nof the honor of the depositions, of which he sent him a duplicate, for\nthe purpose of attributing them to Patizel, who had not opened his mouth.\nHe wished to mortify me, and please his favorite; but had no desire to\ndismiss me his service.  He perceived it would be more difficult to find\nme a successor, than M. Follau, who had already made him known to the\nworld.  An Italian secretary was absolutely necessary to him, on account\nof the answers from the senate; one who could write all his despatches,\nand conduct his affairs, without his giving himself the least trouble\nabout anything; a person who, to the merit of serving him well, could\njoin the baseness of being the toad-eater of his gentlemen, without\nhonor, merit, or principles.  He wished to retain, and humble me, by\nkeeping me far from my country, and his own, without money to return to\neither, and in which he would, perhaps, had succeeded, had he began with\nmore moderation: but Vitali, who had other views, and wished to force me\nto extremities, carried his point.  The moment I perceived, I lost all my\ntrouble, that the ambassador imputed to me my services as so many crimes,\ninstead of being satisfied with them; that with him I had nothing to\nexpect, but things disagreeable at home, and injustice abroad; and that,\nin the general disesteem into which he was fallen, his ill offices might\nbe prejudicial to me, without the possibility of my being served by his\ngood ones; I took my resolution, and asked him for my dismission, leaving\nhim sufficient time to provide himself with another secretary.  Without\nanswering yes or no, he continued to treat me in the same manner, as if\nnothing had been said.  Perceiving things to remain in the same state,\nand that he took no measures to procure himself a new secretary, I wrote\nto his brother, and, explaining to him my motives, begged he would obtain\nmy dismission from his excellency, adding that whether I received it or\nnot, I could not possibly remain with him.  I waited a long time without\nany answer, and began to be embarrassed: but at length the ambassador\nreceived a letter from his brother, which must have remonstrated with him\nin very plain terms; for although he was extremely subject to ferocious\nrage, I never saw him so violent as on this occasion.  After torrents of\nunsufferable reproaches, not knowing what more to say, he accused me of\nhaving sold his ciphers.  I burst into a loud laughter, and asked him, in\na sneering manner, if he thought there was in Venice a man who would be\nfool enough to give half a crown for them all.  He threatened to call his\nservants to throw me out of the window.  Until then I had been very\ncomposed; but on this threat, anger and indignation seized me in my turn.\nI sprang to the door, and after having turned a button which fastened it\nwithin: \"No, count,\" said I, returning to him with a grave step, \"Your\nservants shall have nothing to do with this affair; please to let it be\nsettled between ourselves.\"  My action and manner instantly made him\ncalm; fear and surprise were marked in his countenance.  The moment I saw\nhis fury abated, I bid him adieu in a very few words, and without waiting\nfor his answer, went to the door, opened it, and passed slowly across the\nantechamber, through the midst of his people, who rose according to\ncustom, and who, I am of opinion, would rather have lent their assistance\nagainst him than me.  Without going back to my apartment, I descended the\nstairs, and immediately went out of the palace never more to enter it.\n\nI hastened immediately to M. le Blond and related to him what had\nhappened.  Knowing the man, he was but little surprised.  He kept me to\ndinner.  This dinner, although without preparation, was splendid.\nAll the French of consequence who were at Venice, partook of it.\nThe ambassador had not a single person.  The consul related my case to\nthe company.  The cry was general, and by no means in favor of his\nexcellency.  He had not settled my account, nor paid me a farthing,\nand being reduced to the few louis I had in my pocket, I was extremely\nembarrassed about my return to France.  Every purse was opened to me.\nI took twenty sequins from that of M. le Blond, and as many from that of\nM. St. Cyr, with whom, next to M. le Blond, I was the most intimately\nconnected.  I returned thanks to the rest; and, till my departure, went\nto lodge at the house of the chancellor of the consulship, to prove to\nthe public, the nation was not an accomplice in the injustice of the\nambassador.\n\nHis excellency, furious at seeing me taken notice of in my misfortune, at\nthe same time that, notwithstanding his being an ambassador, nobody went\nnear his house, quite lost his senses and behaved like a madman.  He\nforgot himself so far as to present a memoir to the senate to get me\narrested.  On being informed of this by the Abbe de Binis, I resolved to\nremain a fortnight longer, instead of setting off the next day as I had\nintended.  My conduct had been known and approved of by everybody; I was\nuniversally esteemed.  The senate did not deign to return an answer to\nthe extravagant memoir of the ambassador, but sent me word I might remain\nin Venice as long as I thought proper, without making myself uneasy about\nthe attempts of a madman.  I continued to see my friends: I went to take\nleave of the ambassador from Spain, who received me well, and of the\nComte de Finochietti, minister from Naples, whom I did not find at home.\nI wrote him a letter and received from his excellency the most polite and\nobliging answer.  At length I took my departure, leaving behind me,\nnotwithstanding my embarrassment, no other debts than the two sums I had\nborrowed, and of which I have just spoken; and an account of fifty crowns\nwith a shopkeeper, of the name of Morandi, which Carrio promised to pay,\nand which I have never reimbursed him, although we have frequently met\nsince that time; but with respect to the two sums of money, I returned\nthem very exactly the moment I had it in my power.\n\nI cannot take leave of Venice without saying something of the celebrated\namusements of that city, or at least of the little part of them of which\nI partook during my residence there.  It has been seen how little in my\nyouth I ran after the pleasures of that age, or those that are so called.\nMy inclinations did not change at Venice, but my occupations, which\nmoreover would have prevented this, rendered more agreeable to me the\nsimple recreations I permitted myself.  The first and most pleasing of\nall was the society of men of merit.  M. le Blond, de St. Cyr, Carrio\nAltuna, and a Forlinian gentleman, whose name I am very sorry to have\nforgotten, and whom I never call to my recollection without emotion: he\nwas the man of all I ever knew whose heart most resembled my own.  We\nwere connected with two or three Englishmen of great wit and information,\nand, like ourselves, passionately fond of music.  All these gentlemen had\ntheir wives, female friends, or mistresses: the latter were most of them\nwomen of talents, at whose apartments there were balls and concerts.\nThere was but little play; a lively turn, talents, and the theatres\nrendered this amusement incipid.  Play is the resource of none but men\nwhose time hangs heavy on their hands.  I had brought with me from Paris\nthe prejudice of that city against Italian music; but I had also received\nfrom nature a sensibility and niceness of distinction which prejudice\ncannot withstand.  I soon contracted that passion for Italian music with\nwhich it inspires all those who are capable of feeling its excellence.\nIn listening to barcaroles, I found I had not yet known what singing was,\nand I soon became so fond of the opera that, tired of babbling, eating,\nand playing in the boxes when I wished to listen, I frequently withdrew\nfrom the company to another part of the theater.  There, quite alone,\nshut up in my box, I abandoned myself, notwithstanding the length of the\nrepresentation, to the pleasure of enjoying it at ease unto the\nconclusion.  One evening at the theatre of Saint Chrysostom, I fell into\na more profound sleep than I should have done in my bed.  The loud and\nbrilliant airs did not disturb my repose.  But who can explain the\ndelicious sensations given me by the soft harmony of the angelic music,\nby which I was charmed from sleep; what an awaking!  what ravishment!\nwhat ecstasy, when at the same instant I opened my ears and eyes!  My\nfirst idea was to believe I was in paradise.  The ravishing air, which I\nstill recollect and shall never forget, began with these words:\n\n                         Conservami la bella,\n                         Che si m'accende il cor.\n\nI was desirous of having it; I had and kept it for a time; but it was not\nthe same thing upon paper as in my head.  The notes were the same but the\nthing was different.  This divine composition can never be executed but\nin my mind, in the same manner as it was the evening on which it woke me\nfrom sleep.\n\nA kind of music far superior, in my opinion, to that of operas, and which\nin all Italy has not its equal, nor perhaps in the whole world, is that\nof the 'scuole'.  The 'scuole' are houses of charity, established for the\neducation of young girls without fortune, to whom the republic afterwards\ngives a portion either in marriage or for the cloister.  Amongst talents\ncultivated in these young girls, music is in the first rank.  Every\nSunday at the church of each of the four 'scuole', during vespers,\nmotettos or anthems with full choruses, accompanied by a great orchestra,\nand composed and directed by the best masters in Italy, are sung in the\ngalleries by girls only; not one of whom is more than twenty years of\nage.  I have not an idea of anything so voluptuous and affecting as this\nmusic; the richness of the art, the exquisite taste of the vocal part,\nthe excellence of the voices, the justness of the execution, everything\nin these delightful concerts concurs to produce an impression which\ncertainly is not the mode, but from which I am of opinion no heart is\nsecure.  Carrio and I never failed being present at these vespers of the\n'Mendicanti', and we were not alone.  The church was always full of the\nlovers of the art, and even the actors of the opera came there to form\ntheir tastes after these excellent models.  What vexed me was the iron\ngrate, which suffered nothing to escape but sounds, and concealed from me\nthe angels of which they were worthy.  I talked of nothing else.  One day\nI spoke of it at Le Blond's; \"If you are so desirous,\" said he, \"to see\nthose little girls, it will be an easy matter to satisfy your wishes.\nI am one of the administrators of the house, I will give you a collation\nwith them.\"  I did not let him rest until he had fulfilled his promise.\nIn entering the saloon, which contained these beauties I so much sighed\nto see, I felt a trembling of love which I had never before experienced.\nM. le Blond presented to me one after the other, these celebrated female\nsingers, of whom the names and voices were all with which I was\nacquainted.  Come, Sophia,--she was horrid.  Come, Cattina,--she had\nbut one eye.  Come, Bettina,--the small-pox had entirely disfigured her.\nScarcely one of them was without some striking defect.\n\nLe Blond laughed at my surprise; however, two or three of them appeared\ntolerable; these never sung but in the choruses; I was almost in despair.\nDuring the collation we endeavored to excite them, and they soon became\nenlivened; ugliness does not exclude the graces, and I found they\npossessed them.  I said to myself, they cannot sing in this manner\nwithout intelligence and sensibility, they must have both; in fine,\nmy manner of seeing them changed to such a degree that I left the house\nalmost in love with each of these ugly faces.  I had scarcely courage\nenough to return to vespers.  But after having seen the girls,\nthe danger was lessened.  I still found their singing delightful;\nand their voices so much embellished their persons that, in spite of my\neyes, I obstinately continued to think them beautiful.\n\nMusic in Italy is accompanied with so trifling an expense, that it is not\nworth while for such as have a taste for it to deny themselves the\npleasure it affords.  I hired a harpsichord, and, for half a crown, I had\nat my apartment four or five symphonists, with whom I practised once a\nweek in executing such airs, etc., as had given me most pleasure at the\nopera.  I also had some symphonies performed from my 'Muses Galantes'.\nWhether these pleased the performers, or the ballet-master of St. John\nChrysostom wished to flatter me, he desired to have two of them; and I\nhad afterwards the pleasure of hearing these executed by that admirable\norchestra.  They were danced to by a little Bettina, pretty and amiable,\nand kept by a Spaniard, M. Fagoaga, a friend of ours with whom we often\nwent to spend the evening.  But apropos of girls of easy virtue: it is\nnot in Venice that a man abstains from them.  Have you nothing to\nconfess, somebody will ask me, upon this subject?  Yes: I have something\nto say upon it, and I will proceed to the confession with the same\ningenuousness with which I have made my former ones.\n\nI always had a disinclination to girls of pleasure, but at Venice those\nwere all I had within my reach; most of the houses being shut against me\non account of my place.  The daughters of M. le Blond were very amiable,\nbut difficult of access; and I had too much respect for the father and\nmother ever once to have the least desire for them.\n\nI should have had a much stronger inclination to a young lady named\nMademoiselle de Cataneo, daughter to the agent from the King of Prussia,\nbut Carrio was in love with her there was even between them some question\nof marriage.  He was in easy circumstances, and I had no fortune: his\nsalary was a hundred louis (guineas) a year, and mine amounted to no more\nthan a thousand livres (about forty pounds sterling) and, besides my\nbeing unwilling to oppose a friend, I knew that in all places, and\nespecially at Venice, with a purse so ill furnished as mine was,\ngallantry was out of the question.  I had not lost the pernicious custom\nof deceiving my wants.  Too busily employed forcibly to feel those\nproceeding from the climate, I lived upwards of a year in that city as\nchastely as I had done in Paris, and at the end of eighteen months I\nquitted it without having approached the sex, except twice by means of\nthe singular opportunities of which I am going to speak.\n\nThe first was procured me by that honest gentleman, Vitali, some time\nafter the formal apology I obliged him to make me.  The conversation at\nthe table turned on the amusements of Venice.  These gentlemen reproached\nme with my indifference with regard to the most delightful of them all;\nat the same time extolling the gracefulness and elegant manners of the\nwomen of easy virtue of Venice; and adding that they were superior to all\nothers of the same description in any other part of the world.\n\"Dominic,\" said I, \"(I)must make an acquaintance with the most amiable of\nthem all,\" he offered to take me to her apartments, and assured me I\nshould be pleased with her.  I laughed at this obliging offer: and Count\nPiati, a man in years and venerable, observed to me, with more candor\nthan I should have expected from an Italian, that he thought me too\nprudent to suffer myself to be taken to such a place by my enemy.  In\nfact I had no inclination to do it: but notwithstanding this, by an\nincoherence I cannot myself comprehend, I at length was prevailed upon to\ngo, contrary to my inclination, the sentiment of my heart, my reason, and\neven my will; solely from weakness, and being ashamed to show an\nappearance to the least mistrust; and besides, as the expression of the\ncountry is, 'per non parer troppo cogliono'--[Not to appear too great a\nblockhead.]--The 'Padoana' whom we went to visit was pretty, she was\neven handsome, but her beauty was not of that kind that pleased me.\nDominic left me with her, I sent for Sorbetti, and asked her to sing.\nIn about half an hour I wished to take my leave, after having put a ducat\non the table, but this by a singular scruple she refused until she had\ndeserved it, and I from as singular a folly consented to remove her\ndoubts.  I returned to the palace so fully persuaded that I should feel\nthe consequences of this step, that the first thing I did was to send for\nthe king's surgeon to ask him for ptisans.  Nothing can equal the\nuneasiness of mind I suffered for three weeks, without its being\njustified by any real inconvenience or apparent sign.  I could not\nbelieve it was possible to withdraw with impunity from the arms of the\n'padoana'.  The surgeon himself had the greatest difficulty in removing\nmy apprehensions; nor could he do this by any other means than by\npersuading me I was formed in such a manner as not to be easily infected:\nand although in the experiment I exposed myself less than any other man\nwould have done, my health in that respect never having suffered the\nleast inconvenience, in my opinion a proof the surgeon was right.\nHowever, this has never made me imprudent, and if in fact I have received\nsuch an advantage from nature I can safely assert I have never abused it.\n\nMy second adventure, although likewise with a common girl, was of a\nnature very different, as well in its origin as in its effects; I have\nalready said that Captain Olivet gave me a dinner on board his vessel,\nand that I took with me the secretary of the Spanish embassy.  I expected\na salute of cannon.\n\nThe ship's company was drawn up to receive us, but not so much as a\npriming was burnt, at which I was mortified, on account of Carrio, whom I\nperceived to be rather piqued at the neglect.  A salute of cannon was\ngiven on board merchant-ships to people of less consequence than we were;\nI besides thought I deserved some distinguished mark of respect from the\ncaptain.  I could not conceal my thoughts, because this at all times was\nimpossible to me, and although the dinner was a very good one, and Olivet\ndid the honors of it perfectly well, I began it in an ill humor, eating\nbut little, and speaking still less.  At the first health, at least, I\nexpected a volley; nothing.  Carrio, who read what passed within, me,\nlaughed at hearing me grumble like a child.  Before dinner was half over\nI saw a gondola approach the vessel.  \"Bless me, sir,\" said the captain,\n\"take care of yourself, the enemy approaches.\"  I asked him what he\nmeant, and he answered jocosely.  The gondola made the ship's side, and I\nobserved a gay young damsel come on board very lightly, and coquettishly\ndressed, and who at three steps was in the cabin, seated by my side,\nbefore I had time to perceive a cover was laid for her.  She was equally\ncharming and lively, a brunette, not more than twenty years of age.  She\nspoke nothing but Italian, and her accent alone was sufficient to turn my\nhead.  As she eat and chattered she cast her eyes upon me; steadfastly\nlooked at me for a moment, and then exclaimed, \"Good Virgin!  Ah, my dear\nBremond, what an age it is since I saw thee!\" Then she threw herself into\nmy arms, sealed her lips to mine, and pressed me almost to strangling.\nHer large black eyes, like those of the beauties of the East, darted\nfiery shafts into my heart, and although the surprise at first stupefied\nmy senses, voluptuousness made a rapid progress within, and this to such\na degree that the beautiful seducer herself was, notwithstanding the\nspectators, obliged to restrain my ardor, for I was intoxicated, or\nrather become furious.  When she perceived she had made the impression\nshe desired, she became more moderate in her caresses, but not in her\nvivacity, and when she thought proper to explain to us the real or false\ncause of all her petulance, she said I resembled M. de Bremond, director\nof the customs of Tuscany, to such a degree as to be mistaken for him;\nthat she had turned this M. de Bremond's head, and would do it again;\nthat she had quitted him because he was a fool; that she took me in his\nplace; that she would love me because it pleased her so to do, for which\nreason I must love her as long as it was agreeable to her, and when she\nthought proper to send me about my business, I must be patient as her\ndear Bremond had been.  What was said was done.  She took possession of\nme as of a man that belonged to her, gave me her gloves to keep, her fan,\nher cinda, and her coif, and ordered me to go here or there, to do this\nor that, and I instantly obeyed her.  She told me to go and send away her\ngondola, because she chose to make use of mine, and I immediately sent it\naway; she bid me to move from my place, and pray Carrio to sit down in\nit, because she had something to say to him; and I did as she desired.\nThey chatted a good while together, but spoke low, and I did not\ninterrupt them.  She called me, and I approached her.  \"Hark thee,\nZanetto,\" said she to me, \"I will not be loved in the French manner; this\nindeed will not be well.  In the first moment of lassitude, get thee\ngone: but stay not by the way, I caution thee.\"  After dinner we went to\nsee the glass manufactory at Murano.  She bought a great number of little\ncuriosities; for which she left me to pay without the least ceremony.\nBut she everywhere gave away little trinkets to a much greater amount\nthan of the things we had purchased.  By the indifference with which she\nthrew away her money, I perceived she annexed to it but little value.\nWhen she insisted upon a payment, I am of opinion it was more from a\nmotive of vanity than avarice.  She was flattered by the price her\nadmirers set upon her favors.\n\nIn the evening we conducted her to her apartments.  As we conversed\ntogether, I perceived a couple of pistols upon her toilette.  \"Ah! Ah!\"\nsaid I, taking one of them up, \"this is a patchbox of a new construction:\nmay I ask what is its use?  I know you have other arms which give more\nfire than those upon your table.\"  After a few pleasantries of the same\nkind, she said to us, with an ingenuousness which rendered her still more\ncharming, \"When I am complaisant to persons whom I do not love, I make\nthem pay for the weariness they cause me; nothing can be more just; but\nif I suffer their caresses, I will not bear their insults; nor miss the\nfirst who shall be wanting to me in respect.\"\n\nAt taking leave of her, I made another appointment for the next day.  I\ndid not make her wait.  I found her in 'vestito di conidenza', in an\nundress more than wanton, unknown to northern countries, and which I will\nnot amuse myself in describing, although I recollect it perfectly well.\nI shall only remark that her ruffles and collar were edged with silk\nnetwork ornamented with rose--colored pompons.  This, in my eyes, much\nenlivened a beautiful complexion.  I afterwards found it to be the mode\nat Venice, and the effect is so charming that I am surprised it has never\nbeen introduced in France.  I had no idea of the transports which awaited\nme.  I have spoken of Madam de Larnage with the transport which the\nremembrance of her still sometimes gives me; but how old, ugly and cold\nshe appeared, compared with my Zulietta!  Do not attempt to form to\nyourself an idea of the charms and graces of this enchanting girl, you\nwill be far too short of truth.  Young virgins in cloisters are not so\nfresh: the beauties of the seraglio are less animated: the houris of\nparadise less engaging.  Never was so sweet an enjoyment offered to the\nheart and senses of a mortal.  Ah! had I at least been capable of fully\ntasting of it for a single moment!  I had tasted of it, but without a\ncharm.  I enfeebled all its delights: I destroyed them as at will.  No;\nNature has not made me capable of enjoyment.  She has infused into my\nwretched head the poison of that ineffable happiness, the desire of which\nshe first placed in my heart.\n\nIf there be a circumstance in my life, which describes my nature, it is\nthat which I am going to relate.  The forcible manner in which I at this\nmoment recollect the object of my book, will here make me hold in\ncontempt the false delicacy which would prevent me from fulfilling it.\nWhoever you may be who are desirous of knowing a man, have the courage to\nread the two or three following pages, and you will become fully\nacquainted with J. J. Rousseau.\n\nI entered the chamber of a woman of easy virtue, as the sanctuary of love\nand beauty: and in her person, I thought I saw the divinity.  I should\nhave been inclined to think that without respect and esteem it was\nimpossible to feel anything like that which she made me experience.\nScarcely had I, in her first familiarities, discovered the force of her\ncharms and caresses, before I wished, for fear of losing the fruit of\nthem, to gather it beforehand.  Suddenly, instead of the flame which\nconsumed me, I felt a mortal cold run through all my veins; my legs\nfailed me; and ready to faint away, I sat down and wept like a child.\n\nWho would guess the cause of my tears, and what, at this moment, passed\nwithin me?  I said to myself: the object in my power is the masterpiece\nof love; her wit and person equally approach perfection; she is as good\nand generous as she is amiable and beautiful.  Yet she is a miserable\nprostitute, abandoned to the public.  The captain of a merchantship\ndisposed of her at will; she has thrown herself into my arms, although\nshe knows I have nothing; and my merit with which she cannot be\nacquainted, can be to her no inducement.  In this there is something\ninconceivable.  Either my heart deceives me, fascinates my senses, and\nmakes me the dupe of an unworthy slut, or some secret defect, of which I\nam ignorant, destroys the effect of her charms, and renders her odious in\nthe eyes of those by whom her charms would otherwise be disputed.  I\nendeavored, by an extraordinary effort of mind, to discover this defect,\nbut it did not so much as strike me that even the consequences to be\napprehended, might possibly have some influence.  The clearness of her\nskin, the brilliancy of her complexion, her white teeth, sweet breath,\nand the appearance of neatness about her person, so far removed from me\nthis idea, that, still in doubt relative to my situation after the affair\nof the 'padoana', I rather apprehended I was not sufficiently in health\nfor her: and I am firmly persuaded I was not deceived in my opinion.\nThese reflections, so apropos, agitated me to such a degree as to make me\nshed tears.  Zuliette, to whom the scene was quite novel, was struck\nspeechless for a moment.  But having made a turn in her chamber, and\npassing before her glass, she comprehended, and my eyes confirmed her\nopinion, that disgust had no part in what had happened.  It was not\ndifficult for her to recover me and dispel this shamefacedness.\n\nBut, at the moment in which I was ready to faint upon a bosom, which for\nthe first time seemed to suffer the impression of the hand and lips of a\nman, I perceived she had a withered 'teton'.  I struck my forehead: I\nexamined, and thought I perceived this teton was not formed like the\nother.  I immediately began to consider how it was possible to have such\na defect, and persuaded of its proceeding from some great natural vice, I\nwas clearly convinced, that, instead of the most charming person of whom\nI could form to myself an idea, I had in my arms a species of a monster,\nthe refuse of nature, of men and of love.  I carried my stupidity so far\nas to speak to her of the discovery I had made.  She, at first, took what\nI said jocosely; and in her frolicsome humor, did and said things which\nmade me die of love.  But perceiving an inquietude I could not conceal,\nshe at length reddened, adjusted her dress, raised herself up, and\nwithout saying a word, went and placed herself at a window.  I attempted\nto place myself by her side: she withdrew to a sofa, rose from it the\nnext moment, and fanning herself as she walked about the chamber, said to\nme in a reserved and disdainful tone of voice, \"Zanetto, 'lascia le\ndonne, a studia la matematica.\"--[Leave women and study mathematics.]\n\nBefore I took leave I requested her to appoint another rendezvous for the\nnext day, which she postponed for three days, adding, with a satirical\nsmile, that I must needs be in want of repose.  I was very ill at ease\nduring the interval; my heart was full of her charms and graces; I felt\nmy extravagance, and reproached myself with it, regretting the loss of\nthe moments I had so ill employed, and which, had I chosen, I might have\nrendered more agreeable than any in my whole life; waiting with the most\nburning impatience for the moment in which I might repair the loss, and\nyet, notwithstanding all my reasoning upon what I had discovered, anxious\nto reconcile the perfections of this adorable girl with the indignity of\nher situation.  I ran, I flew to her apartment at the hour appointed.  I\nknow not whether or not her ardor would have been more satisfied with\nthis visit, her pride at least would have been flattered by it, and I\nalready rejoiced at the idea of my convincing her, in every respect, that\nI knew how to repair the wrongs I had done.  She spared me this\njustification.  The gondolier whom I had sent to her apartment brought me\nfor answer that she had set off, the evening before, for Florence.  If I\nhad not felt all the love I had for her person when this was in my\npossession, I felt it in the most cruel manner on losing her.  Amiable\nand charming as she was in my eyes, I could not console myself for the\nloss of her; but this I have never been able to do relative to the\ncontemptuous idea which at her departure she must have had of me.\n\nThese are my two narratives.  The eighteen months I passed at Venice\nfurnished me with no other of the same kind, except a simple prospect at\nmost.  Carrio was a gallant.  Tired of visiting girls engaged to others,\nhe took a fancy to have one to himself, and, as we were inseparable, he\nproposed to mean arrangement common enough at Venice, which was to keep\none girl for us both.  To this I consented.  The question was, to find\none who was safe.  He was so industrious in his researches that he found\nout a little girl from eleven to twelve years of age, whom her infamous\nmother was endeavoring to sell, and I went with Carrio to see her.  The\nsight of the child moved me to the most lively compassion.  She was fair\nand as gentle as a lamb.  Nobody would have taken her for an Italian.\nLiving is very cheap in Venice; we gave a little money to the mother, and\nprovided for the subsistence of her daughter.  She had a voice, and to\nprocure her some resource we gave her a spinnet, and a singing--master.\nAll these expenses did not cost each of us more than two sequins a month,\nand we contrived to save a much greater sum in other matters; but as we\nwere obliged to wait until she became of a riper age, this was sowing a\nlong time before we could possibly reap.  However, satisfied with passing\nour evenings, chatting and innocently playing with the child, we perhaps\nenjoyed greater pleasure than if we had received the last favors.  So\ntrue is it that men are more attached to women by a certain pleasure they\nhave in living with them, than by any kind of libertinism.  My heart\nbecame insensibly attached to the little Anzoletta, but my attachment was\npaternal, in which the senses had so little share, that in proportion as\nthe former increased, to have connected it with the latter would have\nbeen less possible; and I felt I should have experienced, at approaching\nthis little creature when become nubile, the same horror with which the\nabominable crime of incest would have inspired me.  I perceived the\nsentiments of Carrio take, unobserved by himself, exactly the same turn.\nWe thus prepared for ourselves, without intending it, pleasure not less\ndelicious, but very different from that of which we first had an idea;\nand I am fully persuaded that however beautiful the poor child might have\nbecome, far from being the corrupters of her innocence we should have\nbeen the protectors of it.  The circumstance which shortly afterwards\nbefell me deprived me, of the happiness of taking a part in this good\nwork, and my only merit in the affair was the inclination of my heart.\n\nI will now return to my journey.\n\nMy first intentions after leaving M. de Montaigu, was to retire to\nGeneva, until time and more favorable circumstances should have removed\nthe obstacles which prevented my union with my poor mamma; but the\nquarrel between me and M. de Montaigu being become public, and he having\nhad the folly to write about it to the court, I resolved to go there to\ngive an account of my conduct and complain of that of a madman.  I\ncommunicated my intention, from Venice, to M. du Theil, charged per\ninterim with foreign affairs after the death of M. Amelot.  I set off as\nsoon as my letter, and took my route through Bergamo, Como, and Domo\nD'Oscela, and crossing Saint Plomb.  At Sion, M. de Chaignon, charge des\naffaires from France, showed me great civility; at Geneva M. de la\nClosure treated me with the same polite attention.  I there renewed my\nacquaintance with M. de Gauffecourt, from whom I had some money to\nreceive.  I had passed through Nion without going to see my father: not\nthat this was a matter of indifference to me, but because I was unwilling\nto appear before my mother-in-law, after the disaster which had befallen\nme, certain of being condemned by her without being heard.  The\nbookseller, Du Villard, an old friend of my father's, reproached me\nseverely with this neglect.  I gave him my reasons for it, and to repair\nmy fault, without exposing myself to meet my mother-in-law, I took a\nchaise and we went together to Nion and stopped at a public house.  Du\nVillard went to fetch my father, who came running to embrace me.  We\nsupped together, and, after passing an evening very agreeable to the\nwishes of my heart, I returned the next morning to Geneva with Du\nVillard, for whom I have ever since retained a sentiment of gratitude in\nreturn for the service he did me on this occasion.\n\nLyons was a little out of my direct road, but I was determined to pass\nthrough that city in order to convince myself of a knavish trick played\nme by M. de Montaigu.  I had sent me from Paris a little box containing a\nwaistcoat, embroidered with gold, a few pairs of ruffles, and six pairs\nof white silk stockings; nothing more.  Upon a proposition made me by M.\nde Montaigu, I ordered this box to be added to his baggage.  In the\napothecary's bill he offered me in payment of my salary, and which he\nwrote out himself, he stated the weight of this box, which he called a\nbale, at eleven hundred pounds, and charged me with the carriage of it at\nan enormous rate.  By the cares of M. Boy de la Tour, to whom I was\nrecommended by M. Roquin, his uncle, it was proved from the registers of\nthe customs of Lyons and Marseilles, that the said bale weighed no more\nthan forty-five pounds, and had paid carriage according to that weight.\nI joined this authentic extract to the memoir of M, de Montaigu, and\nprovided with these papers and others containing stronger facts, I\nreturned to Paris, very impatient to make use of them.  During the whole\nof this long journey I had little adventures; at Como, in Valais, and\nelsewhere.  I there saw many curious things, amongst others the Boroma\nislands, which are worthy of being described.  But I am pressed by time,\nand surrounded by spies.  I am obliged to write in haste, and very\nimperfectly, a work which requires the leisure and tranquility I do not\nenjoy.  If ever providence in its goodness grants me days more calm, I\nshall destine them to new modelling this work, should I be able to do it,\nor at least to giving a supplement, of which I perceive it stands in the\ngreatest need.--[I have given up this project.]\n\nThe news of my quarrel had reached Paris before me and on my arrival I\nfound the people in all the offices, and the public in general,\nscandalized at the follies of the ambassador.\n\nNotwithstanding this, the public talk at Venice, and the unanswerable\nproof I exhibited, I could not obtain even the shadow of justice.  Far\nfrom obtaining satisfaction or reparation, I was left at the discretion\nof the ambassador for my salary, and this for no other reason than\nbecause, not being a Frenchman, I had no right to national protection,\nand that it was a private affair between him and myself.  Everybody\nagreed I was insulted, injured, and unfortunate; that the ambassador was\nmad, cruel, and iniquitous, and that the whole of the affair dishonored\nhim forever.  But what of this!  He was the ambassador, and I was nothing\nmore than the secretary.\n\nOrder, or that which is so called, was in opposition to my obtaining\njustice, and of this the least shadow was not granted me.  I supposed\nthat, by loudly complaining, and by publicly treating this madman in the\nmanner he deserved, I should at length be told to hold my tongue; this\nwas what I wished for, and I was fully determined not to obey until I had\nobtained redress.  But at that time there was no minister for foreign\naffairs.  I was suffered to exclaim, nay, even encouraged to do it, and\njoined with; but the affair still remained in the same state, until,\ntired of being in the right without obtaining justice, my courage at\nlength failed me, and let the whole drop.\n\nThe only person by whom I was ill received, and from whom I should have\nleast expected such an injustice, was Madam de Beuzenval.  Full of the\nprerogatives of rank and nobility, she could not conceive it was possible\nan ambassador could ever be in the wrong with respect to his secretary.\nThe reception she gave me was conformable to this prejudice.  I was so\npiqued at it that, immediately after leaving her, I wrote her perhaps one\nof the strongest and most violent letters that ever came from my pen, and\nsince that time I never once returned to her house.  I was better\nreceived by Father Castel; but, in the midst of his Jesuitical wheedling\nI perceived him faithfully to follow one of the great maxims of his\nsociety, which is to sacrifice the weak to the powerful.  The strong\nconviction I felt of the justice of my cause, and my natural greatness of\nmind did not suffer me patiently to endure this partiality.  I ceased\nvisiting Father Castel, and on that account, going to the college of the\nJesuits, where I knew nobody but himself.  Besides the intriguing and\ntyrannical spirit of his brethren, so different from the cordiality of\nthe good Father Hemet, gave me such a disgust for their conversation that\nI have never since been acquainted with, nor seen anyone of them except\nFather Berthier, whom I saw twice or thrice at M. Dupin's, in conjunction\nwith whom he labored with all his might at the refutation of Montesquieu.\n\nThat I may not return to the subject, I will conclude what I have to say\nof M. de Montaigu.  I had told him in our quarrels that a secretary was\nnot what he wanted, but an attorney's clerk.  He took the hint, and the\nperson whom he procured to succeed me was a real attorney, who in less\nthan a year robbed him of twenty or thirty thousand livres.  He\ndischarged him, and sent him to prison, dismissed his gentleman with\ndisgrace, and, in wretchedness, got himself everywhere into quarrels,\nreceived affronts which a footman would not have put up with, and, after\nnumerous follies, was recalled, and sent from the capital.  It is very\nprobable that among the reprimands he received at court, his affair with\nme was not forgotten.  At least, a little time after his return he sent\nhis maitre d' hotel, to settle my account, and give me some money.  I was\nin want of it at that moment; my debts at Venice, debts of honor, if ever\nthere were any, lay heavy upon my mind.  I made use of the means which\noffered to discharge them, as well as the note of Zanetto Nani.  I\nreceived what was offered me, paid all my debts, and remained as before,\nwithout a farthing in my pocket, but relieved from a weight which had\nbecome insupportable.  From that time I never heard speak of M. de\nMontaigu until his death, with which I became acquainted by means of the\nGazette.  The peace of God be with that poor man!  He was as fit for the\nfunctions of an ambassador as in my infancy I had been for those of\nGrapignan.--[I have not been able to find this word in any dictionary,\nnor does any Frenchman of letters of my acquaintance know what it means.\n--T.]--However, it was in his power to have honorably supported himself\nby my services, and rapidly to have advanced me in a career to which the\nComte de Gauvon had destined me in my youth, and of the functions of\nwhich I had in a more advanced age rendered myself capable.\n\nThe justice and inutility of my complaints, left in my mind seeds of\nindignation against our foolish civil institutions, by which the welfare\nof the public and real justice are always sacrificed to I know not what\nappearance of order, and which does nothing more than add the sanction of\npublic authority to the oppression of the weak, and the iniquity of the\npowerful.  Two things prevented these seeds from putting forth at that\ntime as they afterwards did: one was, myself being in question in the\naffair, and private interest, whence nothing great or noble ever\nproceeded, could not draw from my heart the divine soarings, which the\nmost pure love, only of that which is just and sublime, can produce.  The\nother was the charm of friendship which tempered and calmed my wrath by\nthe ascendancy of a more pleasing sentiment.  I had become acquainted at\nVenice with a Biscayan, a friend of my friend Carrio's, and worthy of\nbeing that of every honest man.  This amiable young man, born with every\ntalent and virtue, had just made the tour of Italy to gain a taste for\nthe fine arts, and, imagining he had nothing more to acquire, intended to\nreturn by the most direct road to his own country.  I told him the arts\nwere nothing more than a relaxation to a genius like his, fit to\ncultivate the sciences; and to give him a taste for these, I advised him\nto make a journey to Paris and reside there for six months.  He took my\nadvice, and went to Paris.  He was there and expected me when I arrived.\nHis lodging was too considerable for him, and he offered me the half of\nit, which I instantly accepted.  I found him absorbed in the study of the\nsublimest sciences.  Nothing was above his reach.  He digested everything\nwith a prodigious rapidity.  How cordially did he thank me for having\nprocured him this food for his mind, which was tormented by a thirst\nafter knowledge, without his being aware of it!  What a treasure of light\nand virtue I found in the vigorous mind of this young man!  I felt he was\nthe friend I wanted.  We soon became intimate.  Our tastes were not the\nsame, and we constantly disputed.  Both opinionated, we never could agree\nabout anything.  Nevertheless we could not separate; and, notwithstanding\nour reciprocal and incessant contradiction, we neither of us wished the\nother to be different from what he was.\n\nIgnacio Emanuel de Altuna was one of those rare beings whom only Spain\nproduces, and of whom she produces too few for her glory.  He had not the\nviolent national passions common in his own country.  The idea of\nvengeance could no more enter his head, than the desire of it could\nproceed from his heart.  His mind was too great to be vindictive, and I\nhave frequently heard him say, with the greatest coolness, that no mortal\ncould offend him.  He was gallant, without being tender.  He played with\nwomen as with so many pretty children.  He amused himself with the\nmistresses of his friends, but I never knew him to have one of his own,\nnor the least desire for it.  The emanations from the virtue with which\nhis heart was stored, never permitted the fire of the passions to excite\nsensual desires.\n\nAfter his travels he married, died young, and left children; and, I am as\nconvinced as of my existence, that his wife was the first and only woman\nwith whom he ever tasted of the pleasures of love.\n\nExternally he was devout, like a Spaniard, but in his heart he had the\npiety of an angel.  Except myself, he is the only man I ever saw whose\nprinciples were not intolerant.  He never in his life asked any person\nhis opinion in matters of religion.  It was not of the least consequence\nto him whether his friend was a Jew, a Protestant, a Turk, a Bigot, or an\nAtheist, provided he was an honest man.  Obstinate and headstrong in\nmatters of indifference, but the moment religion was in question, even\nthe moral part, he collected himself, was silent, or simply said: \"I am\ncharged with the care of myself, only.\"  It is astonishing so much\nelevation of mind should be compatible with a spirit of detail carried to\nminuteness.  He previously divided the employment of the day by hours,\nquarters and minutes; and so scrupulously adhered to this distribution,\nthat had the clock struck while he was reading a phrase, he would have\nshut his book without finishing it.  His portions of time thus laid out,\nwere some of them set apart to studies of one kind, and others to those\nof another: he had some for reflection, conversation, divine service, the\nreading of Locke, for his rosary, for visits, music and painting; and\nneither pleasure, temptation, nor complaisance, could interrupt this\norder: a duty he might have had to discharge was the only thing that\ncould have done it.  When he gave me a list of his distribution, that I\nmight conform myself thereto, I first laughed, and then shed tears of\nadmiration.  He never constrained anybody nor suffered constraint: he was\nrather rough with people, who from politeness, attempted to put it upon\nhim.  He was passionate without being sullen.  I have often seen him\nwarm, but never saw him really angry with any person.  Nothing could be\nmore cheerful than his temper: he knew how to pass and receive a joke;\nraillery was one of his distinguished talents, and with which he\npossessed that of pointed wit and repartee.  When he was animated, he was\nnoisy and heard at a great distance; but whilst he loudly inveighed, a\nsmile was spread over his countenance, and in the midst of his warmth he\nused some diverting expression which made all his hearers break out into\na loud laugh.  He had no more of the Spanish complexion than of the\nphlegm of that country.  His skin was white, his cheeks finely colored,\nand his hair of a light chestnut.  He was tall and well made; his body\nwas well formed for the residence of his mind.\n\nThis wise--hearted as well as wise--headed man, knew mankind, and was my\nfriend; this was my only answer to such as are not so.  We were so\nintimately united, that our intention was to pass our days together.  In\na few years I was to go to Ascoytia to live with him at his estate; every\npart of the project was arranged the eve of his departure; nothing was\nleft undetermined, except that which depends not upon men in the best\nconcerted plans, posterior events.  My disasters, his marriage, and\nfinally, his death, separated us forever.  Some men would be tempted to\nsay, that nothing succeeds except the dark conspiracies of the wicked,\nand that the innocent intentions of the good are seldom or never\naccomplished.  I had felt the inconvenience of dependence, and took a\nresolution never again to expose myself to it; having seen the projects\nof ambition, which circumstances had induced me to form, overturned in\ntheir birth.  Discouraged in the career I had so well begun, from which,\nhowever, I had just been expelled, I resolved never more to attach myself\nto any person, but to remain in an independent state, turning my talents\nto the best advantage: of these I at length began to feel the extent, and\nthat I had hitherto had too modest an opinion of them.  I again took up\nmy opera, which I had laid aside to go to Venice; and that I might be\nless interrupted after the departure of Altuna, I returned to my old\nhotel St. Quentin; which, in a solitary part of the town, and not far\nfrom the Luxembourg, was more proper for my purpose than noisy Rue St.\nHonor.\n\nThere the only consolation which Heaven suffered me to taste in my\nmisery, and the only one which rendered it supportable, awaited me.  This\nwas not a trancient acquaintance; I must enter into some detail relative\nto the manner in which it was made.\n\nWe had a new landlady from Orleans; she took for a needlewoman a girl\nfrom her own country, of between twenty--two and twenty--three years of\nage, and who, as well as the hostess, ate at our table.  This girl, named\nTheresa le Vasseur, was of a good family; her father was an officer in\nthe mint of Orleans, and her mother a shopkeeper; they had many children.\nThe function of the mint of Orleans being suppressed, the father found\nhimself without employment; and the mother having suffered losses, was\nreduced to narrow circumstances.  She quitted her business and came to\nParis with her husband and daughter, who, by her industry, maintained all\nthe three.\n\nThe first time I saw this girl at table, I was struck with her modesty;\nand still more so with her lively yet charming look, which, with respect\nto the impression it made upon me, was never equalled.  Beside M. de\nBonnefond, the company was composed of several Irish priests, Gascons and\nothers of much the same description.  Our hostess herself had not made\nthe best possible use of her time, and I was the only person at the table\nwho spoke and behaved with decency.  Allurements were thrown out to the\nyoung girl.  I took her part, and the joke was then turned against me.\nHad I had no natural inclination to the poor girl, compassion and\ncontradiction would have produced it in me: I was always a great friend\nto decency in manners and conversation, especially in the fair sex.  I\nopenly declared myself her champion, and perceived she was not insensible\nof my attention; her looks, animated by the gratitude she dared not\nexpress by words, were for this reason still more penetrating.\n\nShe was very timid, and I was as much so as herself.  The connection\nwhich this disposition common to both seemed to remove to a distance, was\nhowever rapidly formed.  Our landlady perceiving its progress, became\nfurious, and her brutality forwarded my affair with the young girl, who,\nhaving no person in the house except myself to give her the least\nsupport, was sorry to see me go from home, and sighed for the return of\nher protector.  The affinity our hearts bore to each other, and the\nsimilarity of our dispositions, had soon their ordinary effect.  She\nthought she saw in me an honest man, and in this she was not deceived.\nI thought I perceived in her a woman of great sensibility, simple in her\nmanners, and devoid of all coquetry:--I was no more deceived in her than\nshe in me.  I began by declaring to her that I would never either abandon\nor marry her.  Love, esteem, artless sincerity were the ministers of my\ntriumph, and it was because her heart was tender and virtuous, that I was\nhappy without being presuming.\n\nThe apprehensions she was under of my not finding in her that for which I\nsought, retarded my happiness more than every other circumstance.  I\nperceived her disconcerted and confused before she yielded her consent,\nwishing to be understood and not daring to explain herself.  Far from\nsuspecting the real cause of her embarrassment, I falsely imagined it to\nproceed from another motive, a supposition highly insulting to her\nmorals, and thinking she gave me to understand my health might be exposed\nto danger, I fell into so perplexed a state that, although it was no\nrestraint upon me, it poisoned my happiness during several days.  As we\ndid not understand each other, our conversations upon this subject were\nso many enigmas more than ridiculous.  She was upon the point of\nbelieving I was absolutely mad; and I on my part was as near not knowing\nwhat else to think of her.  At last we came to an explanation; she\nconfessed to me with tears the only fault of the kind of her whole life,\nimmediately after she became nubile; the fruit of her ignorance and the\naddress of her seducer.  The moment I comprehended what she meant, I gave\na shout of joy.  \"A Hymen!\"  exclaimed I; \"sought for at Paris, and at\ntwenty years of age!  Ah my Theresa!  I am happy in possessing thee,\nvirtuous and healthy as thou art, and in not finding that for which I\nnever sought.\"\n\nAt first amusement was my only object; I perceived I had gone further and\nhad given myself a companion.  A little intimate connection with this\nexcellent girl, and a few reflections upon my situation, made me discover\nthat, while thinking of nothing more than my pleasures, I had done a\ngreat deal towards my happiness.  In the place of extinguished ambition,\na life of sentiment, which had entire possession of my heart, was\nnecessary to me.  In a word, I wanted a successor to mamma: since I was\nnever again to live with her, it was necessary some person should live\nwith her pupil, and a person, too, in whom I might find that simplicity\nand docility of mind and heart which she had found in me.  It was,\nmoreover, necessary that the happiness of domestic life should indemnify\nme for the splendid career I had just renounced.  When I was quite alone\nthere was a void in my heart, which wanted nothing more than another\nheart to fill it up.  Fate had deprived me of this, or at least in part\nalienated me from that for which by nature I was formed.  From that\nmoment I was alone, for there never was for me the least thing\nintermediate between everything and nothing.  I found in Theresa the\nsupplement of which I stood in need; by means of her I lived as happily\nas I possibly could do, according to the course of events.\n\nI at first attempted to improve her mind.  In this my pains were useless.\nHer mind is as nature formed it: it was not susceptible of cultivation.\nI do not blush in acknowledging she never knew how to read well, although\nshe writes tolerably.  When I went to lodge in the Rue Neuve des Petits\nChamps, opposite to my windows at the Hotel de Ponchartrain, there was a\nsun-dial, on which for a whole month I used all my efforts to teach her\nto know the hours; yet, she scarcely knows them at present.  She never\ncould enumerate the twelve months of the year in order, and cannot\ndistinguish one numeral from another, notwithstanding all the trouble I\ntook endeavoring to teach them to her.  She neither knows how to count\nmoney, nor to reckon the price of anything.  The word which when she\nspeaks, presents itself to her mind, is frequently opposite to that of\nwhich she means to make use.  I formerly made a dictionary of her\nphrases, to amuse M. de Luxembourg, and her 'qui pro quos' often became\ncelebrated among those with whom I was most intimate.  But this person,\nso confined in her intellects, and, if the world pleases, so stupid, can\ngive excellent advice in cases of difficulty.  In Switzerland, in England\nand in France, she frequently saw what I had not myself perceived; she\nhas often given me the best advice I could possibly follow; she has\nrescued me from dangers into which I had blindly precipitated myself, and\nin the presence of princes and the great, her sentiments, good sense,\nanswers, and conduct have acquired her universal esteem, and myself the\nmost sincere congratulations on her merit.  With persons whom we love,\nsentiment fortifies the mind as well as the heart; and they who are thus\nattached, have little need of searching for ideas elsewhere.\n\nI lived with my Theresa as agreeably as with the finest genius in the\nworld.  Her mother, proud of having been brought up under the Marchioness\nof Monpipeau, attempted to be witty, wished to direct the judgment of her\ndaughter, and by her knavish cunning destroyed the simplicity of our\nintercourse.\n\nThe fatigue of this opportunity made me in some degree surmount the\nfoolish shame which prevented me from appearing with Theresa in public;\nand we took short country walks, tete-a-tete, and partook of little\ncollations, which, to me, were delicious.  I perceived she loved me\nsincerely, and this increased my tenderness.  This charming intimacy left\nme nothing to wish; futurity no longer gave me the least concern, or at\nmost appeared only as the present moment prolonged: I had no other desire\nthan that of insuring its duration.\n\nThis attachment rendered all other dissipation superfluous and insipid to\nme.  As I only went out for the purpose of going to the apartment of\nTheresa, her place of residence almost became my own.  My retirement was\nso favorable to the work I had undertaken, that, in less than three\nmonths, my opera was entirely finished, both words and music, except a\nfew accompaniments, and fillings up which still remained to be added.\nThis maneuvering business was very fatiguing to me.  I proposed it to\nPhilidor, offering him at the same time a part of the profits.  He came\ntwice, and did something to the middle parts in the act of Ovid; but he\ncould not confine himself to an assiduous application by the allurement\nof advantages which were distant and uncertain.  He did not come a third\ntime, and I finished the work myself.\n\nMy opera completed, the next thing was to make something of it: this was\nby much the more difficult task of the two.  A man living in solitude in\nParis will never succeed in anything.  I was on the point of making my\nway by means of M. de la Popliniere, to whom Gauffecourt, at my return to\nGeneva had introduced me.  M. de la Popliniere was the Mecaenas of\nRameau; Madam de la Popliniere his very humble scholar.  Rameau was said\nto govern in that house.  Judging that he would with pleasure protect the\nwork of one of his disciples, I wished to show him what I had done.  He\nrefused to examine it; saying he could not read score, it was too\nfatiguing to him.  M. de la Popliniere, to obviate this difficulty, said\nhe might hear it; and offered me to send for musicians to execute certain\ndetached pieces.  I wished for nothing better.  Rameau consented with an\nill grace, incessantly repeating that the composition of a man not\nregularly bred to the science, and who had learned music without a\nmaster, must certainly be very fine!  I hastened to copy into parts five\nor six select passages.  Ten symphonies were procured, and Albert,\nBerard, and Mademoiselle Bourbonois undertook the vocal part.  Remeau,\nthe moment he heard the overture, was purposely extravagant in his\neulogium, by which he intended it should be understood it could not be my\ncomposition.  He showed signs of impatience at every passage: but after a\ncounter tenor song, the air of which was noble and harmonious, with a\nbrilliant accompaniment, he could no longer contain himself; he\napostrophised me with a brutality at which everybody was shocked,\nmaintaining that a part of what he had heard was by a man experienced in\nthe art, and the rest by some ignorant person who did not so much as\nunderstand music.  It is true my composition, unequal and without rule,\nwas sometimes sublime, and at others insipid, as that of a person who\nforms himself in an art by the soarings of his own genius, unsupported by\nscience, must necessarily be.  Rameau pretended to see nothing in me but\na contemptible pilferer, without talents or taste.  The rest of the\ncompany, among whom I must distinguish the master of the house, were of a\ndifferent opinion.  M. de Richelieu, who at that time frequently visited\nM. and Madam de la Popliniere, heard them speak of my work, and wished to\nhear the whole of it, with an intention, if it pleased him, to have it\nperformed at court.  The opera was executed with full choruses, and by a\ngreat orchestra, at the expense of the king, at M. de Bonneval's\nintendant of the Menus; Francoeur directed the band.  The effect was\nsurprising: the duke never ceased to exclaim and applaud; and, at the end\nof one of the choruses, in the act of Tasso, he arose and came to me,\nand, pressing my hand, said: \"M. Rousseau, this is transporting harmony.\nI never heard anything finer.  I will get this performed at Versailles.\"\n\nMadam de la Poliniere, who was present, said not a word.  Rameau,\nalthough invited, refused to come.  The next day, Madam de la Popliniere\nreceived me at her toilette very ungraciously, affected to undervalue my\npiece, and told me, that although a little false glitter had at first\ndazzled M. de Richelieu, he had recovered from his error, and she advised\nme not to place the least dependence upon my opera.  The duke arrived\nsoon after, and spoke to me in quite a different language.  He said very\nflattering things of my talents, and seemed as much disposed as ever to\nhave my composition performed before the king.  \"There is nothing,\" said\nhe, \"but the act of Tasso which cannot pass at court: you must write\nanother.\"  Upon this single word I shut myself up in my apartment; and in\nthree weeks produced, in the place of Tasso, another act, the subject of\nwhich was Hesiod inspired by the muses.  In this I found the secret of\nintroducing a part of the history of my talents, and of the jealousy with\nwhich Rameau had been pleased to honor me.  There was in the new act an\nelevation less gigantic and better supported than in the act of Tasso.\nThe music was as noble and the composition better; and had the other two\nacts been equal to this, the whole piece would have supported a\nrepresentation to advantage.  But whilst I was endeavoring to give it the\nlast finishing, another undertaking suspended the completion of that I\nhad in my hand.  In the winter which succeeded the battle of Fontenoi,\nthere were many galas at Versailles, and several operas performed at the\ntheater of the little stables.  Among the number of the latter was the\ndramatic piece of Voltaire, entitled 'La Princesse de Navarre', the music\nby Rameau, the name of which has just been changed to that of 'Fetes de\nRamire'.  This new subject required several changes to be made in the\ndivertissements, as well in the poetry as in the music.\n\nA person capable of both was now sought after.  Voltaire was in Lorraine,\nand Rameau also; both of whom were employed on the opera of the Temple of\nGlory, and could not give their attention to this.  M. de Richelieu\nthought of me, and sent to desire I would undertake the alterations;\nand, that I might the better examine what there was to do, he gave me\nseparately the poem and the music. In the first place, I would not touch\nthe words without the consent of the author, to whom I wrote upon the\nsubject a very polite and respectful letter, such a one as was proper;\nand received from him the following answer:\n\n\"SIR: In you two talents, which hitherto have always been separated, are\nunited. These are two good reasons for me to esteem and to endeavor to\nlove you. I am sorry, on your account, you should employ these talents in\na work which is so little worthy of them.  A few months ago the Duke de\nRichelieu commanded me to make, absolutely in the twinkling of an eye,\na little and bad sketch of a few insipid and imperfect scenes to be\nadapted to divertissements which are not of a nature to be joined with\nthem.  I obeyed with the greatest exactness.  I wrote very fast, and very\nill.  I sent this wretched production to M. de Richelieu, imagining he\nwould make no use of it, or that I should have it again to make the\nnecessary corrections.  Happily it is in your hands, and you are at full\nliberty to do with it whatever you please: I have entirely lost sight of\nthe thing.  I doubt not but you will have corrected all the faults which\ncannot but abound in so hasty a composition of such a very simple sketch,\nand am persuaded you will have supplied whatever was wanting.\n\n\"I remember that, among other stupid inattentions, no account is given in\nthe scenes which connect the divertissements of the manner in which the\nGrenadian prince immediately passes from a prison to a garden or palace.\nAs it is not a magician but a Spanish nobleman who gives her the gala, I\nam of opinion nothing should be effected by enchantment.\n\n\"I beg, sir, you will examine this part, of which I have but a confused\nidea.\n\n\"You will likewise consider, whether or not it be necessary the prison\nshould be opened, and the princess conveyed from it to a fine palace,\ngilt and varnished, and prepared for her.  I know all this is wretched,\nand that it is beneath a thinking being to make a serious affair of such\ntrifles; but, since we must displease as little as possible, it is\nnecessary we should conform to reason, even in a bad divertissement of an\nopera.\n\n\"I depend wholly upon you and M. Ballot, and soon expect to have the\nhonor of returning you my thanks, and assuring you how much I am, etc.\"\n\nThere is nothing surprising in the great politeness of this letter,\ncompared with the almost crude ones which he has since written to me.\nHe thought I was in great favor with Madam Richelieu; and the courtly\nsuppleness, which everyone knows to be the character of this author,\nobliged him to be extremely polite to a new comer, until he become better\nacquainted with the measure of the favor and patronage he enjoyed.\n\nAuthorized by M. de Voltaire, and not under the necessity of giving\nmyself the least concern about M. Rameau, who endeavored to injure me,\nI set to work, and in two months my undertaking was finished.  With\nrespect to the poetry, it was confined to a mere trifle; I aimed at\nnothing more than to prevent the difference of style from being\nperceived, and had the vanity to think I had succeeded.  The musical part\nwas longer and more laborious.  Besides my having to compose several\npreparatory pieces, and, amongst others, the overture, all the\nrecitative, with which I was charged, was extremely difficult on account\nof the necessity there was of connecting, in a few verses, and by very\nrapid modulations, symphonies and choruses, in keys very different from\neach other; for I was determined neither to change nor transpose any of\nthe airs, that Rameau might not accuse me of having disfigured them.\nI succeeded in the recitative; it was well accented, full of energy and\nexcellent modulation. The idea of two men of superior talents, with whom\nI was associated, had elevated my genius, and I can assert, that in this\nbarren and inglorious task, of which the public could have no knowledge,\nI was for the most part equal to my models.\n\nThe piece, in the state to which I had brought it, was rehearsed in the\ngreat theatre of the opera.  Of the three authors who had contributed to\nthe production, I was the only one present.  Voltaire was not in Paris,\nand Rameau either did not come, or concealed himself.  The words of the\nfirst monologue were very mournful; they began with:\n\n          O Mort! viens terminer les malheurs de ma vie.\n\n     [O Death! hasten to terminate the misfortunes of my life.]\n\nTo these, suitable music was necessary.  It was, however, upon this that\nMadam de la Popliniere founded her censure; accusing me, with much\nbitterness, of having composed a funeral anthem.  M. de Richelieu very\njudiciously began by informing himself who was the author of the poetry\nof this monologue; I presented him the manuscript he had sent me, which\nproved it was by Voltaire.  \"In that case,\" said the duke, \"Voltaire\nalone is to blame.\"  During the rehearsal, everything I had done was\ndisapproved by Madam de la Popliniere, and approved of by M. de\nRichelieu; but I had afterwards to do with too powerful an adversary.\nIt was signified to me that several parts of my composition wanted\nrevising, and that on this it was necessary I should consult M. Rameau;\nmy heart was wounded by such a conclusion, instead of the eulogium I\nexpected, and which certainly I merited, and I returned to my apartment\noverwhelmed with grief, exhausted with fatigue, and consumed by chagrin.\nI was immediately taken ill, and confined to my chamber for upwards of\nsix weeks.\n\nRameau, who was charged with the alterations indicated by Madam de la\nPopliniere, sent to ask me for the overture of my great opera, to\nsubstitute it to that I had just composed.  Happily I perceived the trick\nhe intended to play me, and refused him the overture.  As the performance\nwas to be in five or six days, he had not time to make one, and was\nobliged to leave that I had prepared.  It was in the Italian taste, and\nin a style at that time quite new in France.  It gave satisfaction, and I\nlearned from M. de Valmalette, maitre d'hotel to the king, and son-in-law\nto M. Mussard, my relation and friend, that the connoisseurs were highly\nsatisfied with my work, and that the public had not distinguished it from\nthat of Rameau.  However, he and Madam de la Popliniere took measures to\nprevent any person from knowing I had any concern in the matter.  In the\nbooks distributed to the audience, and in which the authors are always\nnamed, Voltaire was the only person mentioned, and Rameau preferred the\nsuppression of his own name to seeing it associated with mine.\n\nAs soon as I was in a situation to leave my room, I wished to wait upon\nM. de Richelieu, but it was too late; he had just set off for Dunkirk,\nwhere he was to command the expedition destined to Scotland.  At his\nreturn, said I to myself, to authorize my idleness, it will be too late\nfor my purpose, not having seen him since that time.  I lost the honor of\nmywork and the emoluments it should have produced me, besides considering\nmy time, trouble, grief, and vexation, my illness, and the money this cost\nme, without ever receiving the least benefit, or rather, recompense.\nHowever, I always thought M. de Richelieu was disposed to serve me, and\nthat he had a favorable opinion of my talents; but my misfortune, and\nMadam de la Popliniere, prevented the effect of his good wishes.\n\nI could not divine the reason of the aversion this lady had to me.  I had\nalways endeavored to make myself agreeable to her, and regularly paid her\nmy court.  Gauffecourt explained to me the causes of her dislike: \"The\nfirst,\" said he, \"is her friendship for Rameau, of whom she is the\ndeclared panegyrist, and who will not suffer a competitor; the next is an\noriginal sin, which ruins you in her estimation, and which she will never\nforgive; you are a Genevese.\"  Upon this he told me the Abbe Hubert, who\nwas from the same city, and the sincere friend of M. de la Popliniere,\nhad used all his efforts to prevent him from marrying this lady, with\nwhose character and temper he was very well acquainted; and that after\nthe marriage she had vowed him an implacable hatred, as well as all the\nGenevese.  \"Although La Popliniere has a friendship for you, do not,\"\nsaid he, \"depend upon his protection: he is still in love with his wife:\nshe hates you, and is vindictive and artful; you will never do anything\nin that house.\"  All this I took for granted.\n\nThe same Gauffecourt rendered me much about this time, a service of which\nI stood in the greatest need.  I had just lost my virtuous father, who\nwas about sixty years of age.  I felt this loss less severely than I\nshould have done at any other time, when the embarrassments of my\nsituation had less engaged my attention.  During his life-time I had\nnever claimed what remained of the property of my mother, and of which he\nreceived the little interest.  His death removed all my scruples upon\nthis subject.  But the want of a legal proof of the death of my brother\ncreated a difficulty which Gauffecourt undertook to remove, and this he\neffected by means of the good offices of the advocate De Lolme.  As I\nstood in need of the little resource, and the event being doubtful, I\nwaited for a definitive account with the greatest anxiety.\n\nOne evening on entering my apartment I found a letter, which I knew to\ncontain the information I wanted, and I took it up with an impatient\ntrembling, of which I was inwardly ashamed.  What?  said I to myself,\nwith disdain, shall Jean Jacques thus suffer himself to be subdued by\ninterest and curiosity?  I immediately laid the letter again upon the\nchimney-piece.  I undressed myself, went to bed with great composure,\nslept better than ordinary, and rose in the morning at a late hour,\nwithout thinking more of my letter.  As I dressed myself, it caught my\neye; I broke the seal very leisurely, and found under the envelope a bill\nof exchange.  I felt a variety of pleasing sensations at the same time:\nbut I can assert, upon my honor, that the most lively of them all was\nthat proceeding from having known how to be master of myself.\n\nI could mention twenty such circumstances in my life, but I am too much\npressed for time to say everything.  I sent a small part of this money to\nmy poor mamma; regretting, with my eyes suffused with tears, the happy\ntime when I should have laid it all at her feet.  All her letters\ncontained evident marks of her distress.  She sent me piles of recipes,\nand numerous secrets, with which she pretended I might make my fortune\nand her own.  The idea of her wretchedness already affected her heart and\ncontracted her mind.  The little I sent her fell a prey to the knaves by\nwhom she was surrounded; she received not the least advantage from\nanything.  The idea of dividing what was necessary to my own subsistence\nwith these wretches disgusted me, especially after the vain attempt I had\nmade to deliver her from them, and of which I shall have occasion to\nspeak.  Time slipped away, and with it the little money I had; we were\ntwo, or indeed, four persons; or, to speak still more correctly, seven or\neight.  Although Theresa was disinterested to a degree of which there are\nbut few examples, her mother was not so.  She was no sooner a little\nrelieved from her necessities by my cares, than she sent for her whole\nfamily to partake of the fruits of them.  Her sisters, sons, daughters,\nall except her eldest daughter, married to the director of the coaches of\nAugers, came to Paris.  Everything I did for Theresa, her mother diverted\nfrom its original destination in favor of these people who were starving.\nI had not to do with an avaricious person; and, not being under the\ninfluence of an unruly passion, I was not guilty of follies.  Satisfied\nwith genteelly supporting Theresa without luxury, and unexposed to\npressing wants, I readily consented to let all the earnings of her\nindustry go to the profit of her mother; and to this even I did not\nconfine myself; but, by a fatality by which I was pursued, whilst mamma\nwas a prey to the rascals about her Theresa was the same to her family;\nand I could not do anything on either side for the benefit of her to whom\nthe succor I gave was destined.  It was odd enough the youngest child of\nM. de la Vasseur, the only one who had not received a marriage portion\nfrom her parents, should provide for their subsistence; and that, after\nhaving along time been beaten by her brothers, sisters, and even her\nnieces, the poor girl should be plundered by them all, without being more\nable to defend herself from their thefts than from their blows.  One of\nher nieces, named Gorton le Duc, was of a mild and amiable character;\nalthough spoiled by the lessons and examples of the others.  As I\nfrequently saw them together, I gave them names, which they afterwards\ngave to each other; I called the niece my niece, and the aunt my aunt;\nthey both called me uncle.  Hence the name of aunt, by which I continued\nto call Theresa, and which my friends sometimes jocosely repeated.  It\nwill be judged that in such a situation I had not a moment to lose,\nbefore I attempted to extricate myself.  Imagining M. de Richelieu had\nforgotten me, and having no more hopes from the court, I made some\nattempts to get my opera brought out at Paris; but I met with\ndifficulties which could not immediately be removed, and my situation\nbecame daily more painful.  I presented my little comedy of Narcisse to\nthe Italians; it was received, and I had the freedom of the theatre,\nwhich gave much pleasure.  But this was all; I could never get my piece\nperformed, and, tired of paying my court to players, I gave myself no\nmore trouble about them.  At length I had recourse to the last expedient\nwhich remained to me, and the only one of which I ought to have made use.\nWhile frequenting the house of M. de la Popliniere, I had neglected the\nfamily of Dupin.  The two ladies, although related, were not on good\nterms, and never saw each other.  There was not the least intercourse\nbetween the two families, and Thieriot was the only person who visited\nboth.  He was desired to endeavor to bring me again to M. Dupin's.  M. de\nFrancueil was then studying natural history and chemistry, and collecting\na cabinet.  I believe he aspired to become a member of the Academy of\nSciences; to this effect he intended to write a book, and judged I might\nbe of use to him in the undertaking.  Madam de Dupin, who, on her part,\nhad another work in contemplation, had much the same views in respect to\nme.  They wished to have me in common as a kind of secretary, and this\nwas the reason of the invitations of Thieriot.\n\nI required that M. de Francueil should previously employ his interest\nwith that of Jelyote to get my work rehearsed at the operahouse; to this\nhe consented.  The Muses Galantes were several times rehearsed, first at\nthe Magazine, and afterwards in the great theatre.  The audience was very\nnumerous at the great rehearsal, and several parts of the composition\nwere highly applauded.  However, during this rehearsal, very\nill-conducted by Rebel, I felt the piece would not be received; and that,\nbefore it could appear, great alterations were necessary.  I therefore\nwithdrew it without saying a word, or exposing myself to a refusal;\nbut I plainly perceived, by several indications, that the work, had it\nbeen perfect, could not have succeeded.  M. de Francueil had promised me\nto get it rehearsed, but not that it should be received.  He exactly kept\nhis word.  I thought I perceived on this occasion, as well as many\nothers, that neither Madam Dupin nor himself were willing I should\nacquire a certain reputation in the world, lest, after the publication of\ntheir books, it should be supposed they had grafted their talents upon\nmine.  Yet as Madam Dupin always supposed those I had to be very\nmoderate, and never employed me except it was to write what she dictated,\nor in researches of pure erudition, the reproach, with respect to her,\nwould have been unjust.\n\nThis last failure of success completed my discouragement.  I abandoned\nevery prospect of fame and advancement; and, without further troubling my\nhead about real or imaginary talents, with which I had so little success,\nI dedicated my whole time and cares to procure myself and Theresa a\nsubsistence in the manner most pleasing to those to whom it should be\nagreeable to provide for it.  I therefore entirely attached myself to\nMadam Dupin and M. de Francueil.  This did not place me in a very opulent\nsituation; for with eight or nine hundred livres, which I had the first\ntwo years, I had scarcely enough to provide for my primary wants; being\nobliged to live in their neighborhood, a dear part of the town, in a\nfurnished lodging, and having to pay for another lodging at the extremity\nof Paris, at the very top of the Rue Saint Jacques, to which, let the\nweather be as it would, I went almost every evening to supper.  I soon\ngot into the track of my new occupations, and conceived a taste for them.\nI attached myself to the study of chemistry, and attended several courses\nof it with M. de Francueil at M. Rouelle's, and we began to scribble over\npaper upon that science, of which we scarcely possessed the elements.\nIn 1717, we went to pass the autumn in Tourraine, at the castle of\nChenonceaux, a royal mansion upon the Cher, built by Henry the II, for\nDiana of Poitiers, of whom the ciphers are still seen, and which is now\nin the possession of M. Dupin, a farmer general.  We amused ourselves\nvery agreeably in this beautiful place, and lived very well: I became as\nfat there as a monk.  Music was a favorite relaxation.  I composed\nseveral trios full of harmony, and of which I may perhaps speak in my\nsupplement if ever I should write one.  Theatrical performances were\nanother resource.  I wrote a comedy in fifteen days, entitled\n'l'Engagement Temeraire',--[The Rash Engagement]--which will be found\namongst my papers; it has no other merit than that of being lively.\nI composed several other little things: amongst others a poem entitled,\n'l'Aliee de Sylvie', from the name of an alley in the park upon the bank\nof the Cher; and this without discontinuing my chemical studies, or\ninterrupting what I had to do for Madam Dupin.\n\nWhilst I was increasing my corpulency at Chenonceaux, that of my poor\nTheresa was augmented at Paris in another manner, and at my return I\nfound the work I had put upon the frame in greater forwardness than I had\nexpected.  This, on account of my situation, would have thrown me into\nthe greatest embarrassment, had not one of my messmates furnished me with\nthe only resource which could relieve me from it.  This is one of those\nessential narratives which I cannot give with too much simplicity;\nbecause, in making an improper use of their names, I should either excuse\nor inculpate myself, both of which in this place are entirely out of the\nquestion.\n\nDuring the residence of Altuna at Paris, instead of going to eat at a\n'Traiteurs', he and I commonly eat in the neighborhood, almost opposite\nthe cul de sac of the opera, at the house of a Madam la Selle, the wife\nof a tailor, who gave but very ordinary dinners, but whose table was much\nfrequented on account of the safe company which generally resorted to it;\nno person was received without being introduced by one of those who used\nthe house.  The commander, De Graville, an old debauchee, with much wit\nand politeness, but obscene in conversation, lodged at the house, and\nbrought to it a set of riotous and extravagant young men; officers in the\nguards and mousquetaires.  The Commander de Nonant, chevalier to all the\ngirls of the opera, was the daily oracle, who conveyed to us the news of\nthis motley crew.  M. du Plessis, a lieutenant-colonel, retired from the\nservice, an old man of great goodness and wisdom; and M. Ancelet,\n\n     [It was to this M. Ancelet I gave a little comedy, after my own\n     manner entitled 'les Prisouniers de Guerre', which I wrote after the\n     disasters of the French in Bavaria and Bohemia: I dared not either\n     avow this comedy or show it, and this for the singular reason that\n     neither the King of France nor the French were ever better spoken of\n     nor praised with more sincerity of heart than in my piece though\n     written by a professed republican, I dared not declare myself the\n     panegyrist of a nation, whose maxims were exactly the reverse of my\n     own.  More grieved at the misfortunes of France than the French\n     themselves I was afraid the public would construe into flattery and\n     mean complaisance the marks of a sincere attachment, of which in my\n     first part I have mentioned the date and the cause, and which I was\n     ashamed to show.]\n\nan officer in the mousquetaires kept the young people in a certain kind\nof order.  This table was also frequented by commercial people,\nfinanciers and contractors, but extremely polite, and such as were\ndistinguished amongst those of the same profession.  M. de Besse, M. de\nForcade, and others whose names I have forgotten, in short, well-dressed\npeople of every description were seen there; except abbes and men of the\nlong robe, not one of whom I ever met in the house, and it was agreed not\nto introduce men of either of these professions.  This table,\nsufficiently resorted to, was very cheerful without being noisy, and many\nof the guests were waggish, without descending to vulgarity.  The old\ncommander with all his smutty stories, with respect to the substance,\nnever lost sight of the politeness of the old court; nor did any indecent\nexpression, which even women would not have pardoned him, escape his\nlips.  His manner served as a rule to every person at table; all the\nyoung men related their adventures of gallantry with equal grace and\nfreedom, and these narratives were the more complete, as the seraglio was\nat the door; the entry which led to it was the same; for there was a\ncommunication between this and the shop of Le Duchapt, a celebrated\nmilliner, who at that time had several very pretty girls, with whom our\nyoung people went to chat before or after dinner.  I should thus have\namused myself as well as the rest, had I been less modest: I had only to\ngo in as they did, but this I never had courage enough to do.  With\nrespect to Madam de Selle, I often went to eat at her house after the\ndeparture of Altuna.  I learned a great number of amusing anecdotes, and\nby degrees I adopted, thank God, not the morals, but the maxims I found\nto be established there.  Honest men injured, husbands deceived, women\nseduced, were the most ordinary topics, and he who had best filled the\nfoundling hospital was always the most applauded.  I caught the manners\nI daily had before my eyes: I formed my manner of thinking upon that I\nobserved to be the reigning one amongst amiable: and upon the whole, very\nhonest people.  I said to myself, since it is the custom of the country,\nthey who live here may adopt it; this is the expedient for which I\nsought.  I cheerfully determined upon it without the least scruple, and\nthe only one I had to overcome was that of Theresa, whom, with the\ngreatest imaginable difficulty, I persuaded to adopt this only means of\nsaving her honor.  Her mother, who was moreover apprehensive of a new\nembarrassment by an increase of family, came to my aid, and she at length\nsuffered herself to be prevailed upon.  We made choice of a midwife, a\nsafe and prudent woman, Mademoiselle Gouin, who lived at the Point Saint\nEustache, and when the time came, Theresa was conducted to her house by\nher mother.\n\nI went thither several times to see her, and gave her a cipher which I\nhad made double upon two cards; one of them was put into the linen of the\nchild, and by the midwife deposited with the infant in the office of the\nfoundling hospital according to the customary form.  The year following,\na similar inconvenience was remedied by the same expedient, excepting the\ncipher, which was forgotten: no more reflection on my part, nor\napprobation on that of the mother; she obeyed with trembling.  All the\nvicissitudes which this fatal conduct has produced in my manner of\nthinking, as well as in my destiny, will be successively seen.  For the\npresent, we will confine ourselves to this first period; its cruel and\nunforeseen consequences will but too frequently oblige me to refer to it.\n\nI here mark that of my first acquaintance with Madam D'Epinay, whose name\nwill frequently appear in these memoirs.  She was a Mademoiselle D'\nEsclavelles, and had lately been married to M. D'Epinay, son of M. de\nLalive de Bellegarde, a farmer general.  She understood music, and a\npassion for the art produced between these three persons the greatest\nintimacy.  Madam Prancueil introduced me to Madam D'Epinay, and we\nsometimes supped together at her house.  She was amiable, had wit and\ntalent, and was certainly a desirable acquaintance; but she had a female\nfriend, a Mademoiselle d'Ette, who was said to have much malignancy in\nher disposition; she lived with the Chevalier de Valory, whose temper was\nfar from being one of the best.  I am of opinion, an acquaintance with\nthese two persons was prejudicial to Madam D'Epinay, to whom, with a\ndisposition which required the greatest attention from those about her,\nnature had given very excellent qualities to regulate or counterbalance\nher extravagant pretensions.  M. de Francueil inspired her with a part of\nthe friendship he had conceived for me, and told me of the connection\nbetween them, of which, for that reason, I would not now speak, were it\nnot become so public as not to be concealed from M. D'Epinay himself.\n\nM. de Francueil confided to me secrets of a very singular nature relative\nto this lady, of which she herself never spoke to me, nor so much as\nsuspected my having a knowledge; for I never opened my lips to her upon\nthe subject, nor will I ever do it to any person.  The confidence all\nparties had in my prudence rendered my situation very embarrassing,\nespecially with Madam de Francueil, whose knowledge of me was sufficient\nto remove from her all suspicion on my account, although I was connected\nwith her rival.  I did everything I could to console this poor woman,\nwhose husband certainly did not return the affection she had for him.\nI listened to these three persons separately; I kept all their secrets so\nfaithfully that not one of the three ever drew from me those of the two\nothers, and this, without concealing from either of the women my\nattachment to each of them.  Madam de Francueil, who frequently wished to\nmake me an agent, received refusals in form, and Madam D'Epinay, once\ndesiring me to charge myself with a letter to M. de Francueil received\nthe same mortification, accompanied by a very express declaration, that\nif ever she wished to drive me forever from the house, she had only a\nsecond time to make me a like proposition.\n\nIn justice to Madam D'Epinay, I must say, that far from being offended\nwith me she spoke of my conduct to M. de Francueil in terms of the\nhighest approbation, and continued to receive me as well, and as politely\nas ever.  It was thus, amidst the heart-burnings of three persons to whom\nI was obliged to behave with the greatest circumspection, on whom I in\nsome measure depended, and for whom I had conceived an attachment, that\nby conducting myself with mildness and complaisance, although accompanied\nwith the greatest firmness, I preserved unto the last not only their\nfriendship, but their esteem and confidence.  Notwithstanding my\nabsurdities and awkwardness, Madam D'Epinay would have me make one of the\nparty to the Chevrette, a country-house, near Saint Denis, belonging to\nM. de Bellegarde.  There was a theatre, in which performances were not\nunfrequent.  I had a part given me, which I studied for six months\nwithout intermission, and in which, on the evening of the representation,\nI was obliged to be prompted from the beginning to the end.  After this\nexperiment no second proposal of the kind was ever made to me.\n\nMy acquaintance with M. D'Epinay procured me that of her sister-in-law,\nMademoiselle de Bellegarde, who soon afterwards became Countess of\nHoudetot.  The first time I saw her she was upon the point of marriage;\nwhen she conversed with me a long time, with that charming familiarity\nwhich was natural to her.  I thought her very amiable, but I was far from\nperceiving that this young person would lead me, although innocently,\ninto the abyss in which I still remain.\n\nAlthough I have not spoken of Diderot since my return from Venice, no\nmore than of my friend M. Roguin, I did not neglect either of them,\nespecially the former, with whom I daily became more intimate.  He had a\nNannette, as well as I a Theresa; this was between us another conformity\nof circumstances.  But my Theresa, as fine a woman as his Nannette, was\nof a mild and amiable character, which might gain and fix the affections\nof a worthy man; whereas Nannette was a vixen, a troublesome prater, and\nhad no qualities in the eyes of others which in any measure compensated\nfor her want of education.  However he married her, which was well done\nof him, if he had given a promise to that effect.  I, for my part, not\nhaving entered into any such engagement, was not in the least haste to\nimitate him.\n\nI was also connected with the Abbe de Condillac, who had acquired no more\nliterary fame than myself, but in whom there was every appearance of his\nbecoming what he now is.  I was perhaps the first who discovered the\nextent of his abilities, and esteemed them as they deserved.  He on his\npart seemed satisfied with me, and, whilst shut up in my chamber in the\nRue Jean Saint Denis, near the opera-house, I composed my act of Hesiod,\nhe sometimes came to dine with me tete-a-tete.  We sent for our dinner,\nand paid share and share alike.  He was at that time employed on his\nEssay on the Origin of Human Knowledge, which was his first work.  When\nthis was finished, the difficulty was to find a bookseller who would take\nit.  The booksellers of Paris are shy of every author at his beginning,\nand metaphysics, not much then in vogue, were no very inviting subject.\nI spoke to Diderot of Condillac and his work, and I afterwards brought\nthem acquainted with each other.  They were worthy of each other's\nesteem, and were presently on the most friendly terms.  Diderot persuaded\nthe bookseller, Durand, to take the manuscript from the abbe, and this\ngreat metaphysician received for his first work, and almost as a favor,\na hundred crowns, which perhaps he would not have obtained without my\nassistance.  As we lived in a quarter of the town very distant from each\nother, we all assembled once a week at the Palais Royal, and went to dine\nat the Hotel du Panier Fleuri.  These little weekly dinners must have\nbeen extremely pleasing to Diderot; for he who failed in almost all his\nappointments never missed one of these.  At our little meeting I formed\nthe plan of a periodical paper, entitled 'le Persifleur'--[The Jeerer]\n--which Diderot and I were alternately to write.  I sketched out the first\nsheet, and this brought me acquainted with D'Alembert, to whom Diderot\nhad mentioned it.  Unforeseen events frustrated our intention, and the\nproject was carried no further.\n\nThese two authors had just undertaken the 'Dictionnaire Encyclopedique',\nwhich at first was intended to be nothing more than a kind of translation\nof Chambers, something like that of the Medical Dictionary of James,\nwhich Diderot had just finished.  Diderot was desirous I should do\nsomething in this second undertaking, and proposed to me the musical\npart, which I accepted.  This I executed in great haste, and consequently\nvery ill, in the three months he had given me, as well as all the authors\nwho were engaged in the work.  But I was the only person in readiness at\nthe time prescribed.  I gave him my manuscript, which I had copied by a\nlaquais, belonging to M. de Francueil of the name of Dupont, who wrote\nvery well.  I paid him ten crowns out of my own pocket, and these have\nnever been reimbursed me.  Diderot had promised me a retribution on the\npart of the booksellers, of which he has never since spoken to me nor I\nto him.\n\nThis undertaking of the 'Encyclopedie' was interrupted by his\nimprisonment.  The 'Pensees Philosophiquiest' drew upon him some\ntemporary inconvenience which had no disagreeable consequences.  He did\nnot come off so easily on account of the 'Lettre sur les Aveugles',\n--[Letter concerning blind persons.]--in which there was nothing\nreprehensible, but some personal attacks with which Madam du Pre St.\nMaur, and M. de Raumur were displeased: for this he was confined in the\ndungeon of Vincennes.  Nothing can describe the anguish I felt on account\nof the misfortunes of my friend.  My wretched imagination, which always\nsees everything in the worst light, was terrified.  I imagined him to be\nconfined for the remainder of his life.  I was almost distracted with the\nthought.  I wrote to Madam de Pompadour, beseeching her to release him or\nobtain an order to shut me up in the same dungeon.  I received no answer\nto my letter: this was too reasonable to be efficacious, and I do not\nflatter myself that it contributed to the alleviation which, some time\nafterwards, was granted to the severities of the confinement of poor\nDiderot.  Had this continued for any length of time with the same rigor,\nI verily believe I should have died in despair at the foot of the hated\ndungeon.  However, if my letter produced but little effect, I did not on\naccount of it attribute to myself much merit, for I mentioned it but to\nvery few people, and never to Diderot himself.","title":"The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau \u2014 Volume 07","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":32426}