THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU(In 12 books)

Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society

London, 1903

BOOK VII. 

After two years' silence and patience, and notwithstanding myresolutions, I again take up my pen: Reader, suspend your judgmentas to the reasons which force me to such a step: of these you can be nojudge until you shall have read my book. 

My peaceful youth has been seen to pass away calmly and agreeably withoutany great disappointments or remarkable prosperity. This mediocrity wasmostly owing to my ardent yet feeble nature, less prompt in undertakingthan easy to discourage; quitting repose for violent agitations, butreturning to it from lassitude and inclinations, and which, placing me inan idle and tranquil state for which alone I felt I was born, at adistance from the paths of great virtues and still further from those ofgreat vices, never permitted me to arrive at anything great, either goodor bad. What a different account will I soon have to give of myself!Fate, which for thirty years forced my inclinations, for thirty othershas seemed to oppose them; and this continued opposition, between mysituation and inclinations, will appear to have been the source ofenormous faults, unheard of misfortunes, and every virtue except thatfortitude which alone can do honor to adversity. 

The history of the first part of my life was written from memory, and isconsequently full of errors. As I am obliged to write the second partfrom memory also, the errors in it will probably be still more numerous. The agreeable remembrance of the finest portion of my years, passed withso much tranquillity and innocence, has left in my heart a thousandcharming impressions which I love incessantly to call to my recollection. It will soon appear how different from these those of the rest of my lifehave been. To recall them to my mind would be to renew their bitterness. Far from increasing that of my situation by these sorrowful reflections, I repel them as much as possible, and in this endeavor often succeed sowell as to be unable to find them at will. This facility of forgettingmy misfortunes is a consolation which Heaven has reserved to me in themidst of those which fate has one day to accumulate upon my head. Mymemory, which presents to me no objects but such as are agreeable, is thehappy counterpoise of my terrified imagination, by which I foreseenothing but a cruel futurity. 

All the papers I had collected to aid my recollection, and guide me inthis undertaking, are no longer in my possession, nor can I ever againhope to regain them. 

I have but one faithful guide on which I can depend: this is the chain ofthe sentiments by which the succession of my existence has been marked, and by these the events which have been either the cause or the effect ofthe manner of it. I easily forget my misfortunes, but I cannot forget myfaults, and still less my virtuous sentiments. The remembrance of theseis too dear to me ever to suffer them to be effaced from my mind. I mayomit facts, transpose events, and fall into some errors of dates; but Icannot be deceived in what I have felt, nor in that which from sentimentI have done; and to relate this is the chief end of my present work. Thereal object of my confessions is to communicate an exact knowledge ofwhat I interiorly am and have been in every situation of my life. I havepromised the history of my mind, and to write it faithfully I have noneed of other memoirs: to enter into my own heart, as I have hithertodone, will alone be sufficient. 

There is, however, and very happily, an interval of six or seven years, relative to which I have exact references, in a collection of letterscopied from the originals, in the hands of M. Du Peyrou. Thiscollection, which concludes in 1760, comprehends the whole time of myresidence at the hermitage, and my great quarrel with those who calledthemselves my friends; that memorable epocha of my life, and the sourceof all my other misfortunes. With respect to more recent originalletters which may remain in my possession, and are but few in number, instead of transcribing them at the end of this collection, toovoluminous to enable me to deceive the vigilance of my Arguses, I willcopy them into the work whenever they appear to furnish any explanation, be this either for or against myself; for I am not under the leastapprehension lest the reader should forget I make my confession, and beinduced to believe I make my apology; but he cannot expect I shallconceal the truth when it testifies in my favor. 

The second part, it is likewise to be remembered, contains nothing incommon with the first, except truth; nor has any other advantage over it, but the importance of the facts; in everything else, it is inferior tothe former. I wrote the first with pleasure, with satisfaction, and atmy ease, at Wootton, or in the castle Trie: everything I had to recollectwas a new enjoyment. I returned to my closet with an increased pleasure, and, without constraint, gave that turn to my descriptions which mostflattered my imagination. 

At present my head and memory are become so weak as to render me almostincapable of every kind of application: my present undertaking is theresult of constraint, and a heart full of sorrow. I have nothing totreat of but misfortunes, treacheries, perfidies, and circumstancesequally afflicting. I would give the world, could I bury in theobscurity of time, every thing I have to say, and which, in spite ofmyself, I am obliged to relate. I am, at the same time, under thenecessity of being mysterious and subtle, of endeavoring to impose and ofdescending to things the most foreign to my nature. The ceiling underwhich I write has eyes; the walls of my chamber have ears. Surrounded byspies and by vigilant and malevolent inspectors, disturbed, and myattention diverted, I hastily commit to paper a few broken sentences, which I have scarcely time to read, and still less to correct. I knowthat, notwithstanding the barriers which are multiplied around me, myenemies are afraid truth should escape by some little opening. Whatmeans can I take to introduce it to the world? This, however, I attemptwith but few hopes of success. The reader will judge whether or not sucha situation furnishes the means of agreeable descriptions, or of givingthem a seductive coloring! I therefore inform such as may undertake toread this work, that nothing can secure them from weariness in theprosecution of their task, unless it be the desire of becoming more fullyacquainted with a man whom they already know, and a sincere love ofjustice and truth. 

In my first part I brought down my narrative to my departure withinfinite regret from Paris, leaving my heart at Charmettes, and, therebuilding my last castle in the air, intending some day to return to thefeet of mamma, restored to herself, with the treasures I should haveacquired, and depending upon my system of music as upon a certainfortune. 

I made some stay at Lyons to visit my acquaintance, procure letters ofrecommendation to Paris, and to sell my books of geometry which I hadbrought with me. I was well received by all whom I knew. M. And Madamde Malby seemed pleased to see me again, and several times invited me todinner. At their house I became acquainted with the Abbe de Malby, as Ihad already done with the Abbe de Condillac, both of whom were on a visitto their brother. The Abbe de Malby gave me letters to Paris; amongothers, one to M. De Pontenelle, and another to the Comte de Caylus. These were very agreeable acquaintances, especially the first, to whosefriendship for me his death only put a period, and from whom, in ourprivate conversations, I received advice which I ought to have moreexactly followed. 

I likewise saw M. Bordes, with whom I had been long acquainted, and whohad frequently obliged me with the greatest cordiality and the most realpleasure. He it was who enabled me to sell my books; and he also gave mefrom himself good recommendations to Paris. I again saw the intendantfor whose acquaintance I was indebted to M. Bordes, and who introduced meto the Duke de Richelieu, who was then passing through Lyons. M. Pallupresented me. The Duke received me well, and invited me to come and seehim at Paris; I did so several times; although this great acquaintance, of which I shall frequently have occasion to speak, was never of the mosttrifling utility to me. 

I visited the musician David, who, in one of my former journeys, and inmy distress, had rendered me service. He had either lent or given me acap and a pair of stockings, which I have never returned, nor has he everasked me for them, although we have since that time frequently seen eachother. I, however, made him a present, something like an equivalent. I would say more upon this subject, were what I have owned in question;but I have to speak of what I have done, which, unfortunately, is farfrom being the same thing. 

I also saw the noble and generous Perrichon, and not without feeling theeffects of his accustomed munificence; for he made me the same present hehad previously done to the elegant Bernard, by paying for my place in thediligence. I visited the surgeon Parisot, the best and most benevolentof men; as also his beloved Godefroi, who had lived with him ten years, and whose merit chiefly consisted in her gentle manners and goodness ofheart. It was impossible to see this woman without pleasure, or to leaveher without regret. Nothing better shows the inclinations of a man, thanthe nature of his attachments. 

 [Unless he be deceived in his choice, or that she, to whom he attaches himself, changes her character by an extraordinary concurrence of causes, which is not absolutely impossible. Were this consequence to be admitted without modification, Socrates must be judged of by his wife Xantippe, and Dion by his friend Calippus, which would be the most false and iniquitous judgment ever made. However, let no injurious application be here made to my wife. She is weak and more easily deceived than I at first imagined, but by her pure and excellent character she is worthy of all my esteem. ]

Those who had once seen the gentle Godefroi, immediately knew the goodand amiable Parisot. 

I was much obliged to all these good people, but I afterwards neglectedthem all; not from ingratitude, but from that invincible indolence whichso often assumes its appearance. The remembrance of their services hasnever been effaced from my mind, nor the impression they made from myheart; but I could more easily have proved my gratitude, than assiduouslyhave shown them the exterior of that sentiment. Exactitude incorrespondence is what I never could observe; the moment I began torelax, the shame and embarrassment of repairing my fault made meaggravate it, and I entirely desist from writing; I have, therefore, beensilent, and appeared to forget them. Parisot and Perrichon took not theleast notice of my negligence, and I ever found them the same. But, twenty years afterwards it will be seen, in M. Bordes, to what a degreethe self-love of a wit can make him carry his vengeance when he feelshimself neglected. 

Before I leave Lyons, I must not forget an amiable person, whom I againsaw with more pleasure than ever, and who left in my heart the mosttender remembrance. This was Mademoiselle Serre, of whom I have spokenin my first part; I renewed my acquaintance with her whilst I was at M. De Malby's. 

Being this time more at leisure, I saw her more frequently, and she madethe most sensible impressions on my heart. I had some reason to believeher own was not unfavorable to my pretensions; but she honored me withher confidence so far as to remove from me all temptation to allure herpartiality. 

She had no fortune, and in this respect exactly resembled myself; oursituations were too similar to permit us to become united; and with theviews I then had, I was far from thinking of marriage. She gave me tounderstand that a young merchant, one M. Geneve, seemed to wish to obtainher hand. I saw him once or twice at her lodgings; he appeared to me tobe an honest man, and this was his general character. Persuaded shewould be happy with him, I was desirous he should marry her, which heafterwards did; and that I might not disturb their innocent love, I hastened my departure; offering up, for the happiness of that charmingwoman, prayers, which, here below were not long heard. Alas! her timewas very short, for I afterwards heard she died in the second or thirdyear after her marriage. My mind, during the journey, was whollyabsorbed in tender regret. I felt, and since that time, when thesecircumstances have been present to my recollection, have frequently donethe same; that although the sacrifices made to virtue and our duty maysometimes be painful, we are well rewarded by the agreeable remembrancethey leave deeply engravers in our hearts. 

I this time saw Paris in as favorable a point of view as it had appearedto me in an unfavorable one at my first journey; not that my ideas of itsbrilliancy arose from the splendor of my lodgings; for in consequence ofan address given me by M. Bordes, I resided at the Hotel St. Quentin, Ruedes Cordier, near the Sorbonne; a vile street, a miserable hotel, and awretched apartment: but nevertheless a house in which several men ofmerit, such as Gresset, Bordes, Abbe Malby, Condillac, and severalothers, of whom unfortunately I found not one, had taken up theirquarters; but I there met with M. Bonnefond, a man unacquainted with theworld, lame, litigious, and who affected to be a purist. To him I owethe acquaintance of M. Roguin, at present the oldest friend I have and bywhose means I became acquainted with Diderot, of whom I shall soon haveoccasion to say a good deal. 

I arrived at Paris in the autumn of 1741, with fifteen louis in my purse, and with my comedy of Narcissus and my musical project in my pocket. These composed my whole stock; consequently I had not much time to losebefore I attempted to turn the latter to some advantage. I thereforeimmediately thought of making use of my recommendations. 

A young man who arrives at Paris, with a tolerable figure, and announceshimself by his talents, is sure to be well received. This was my goodfortune, which procured me some pleasure without leading to anythingsolid. Of all the persons to whom I was recommended, three only wereuseful to me. M. Damesin, a gentleman of Savoy, at that time equerry, and I believe favorite, of the Princess of Carignan; M. De Boze, Secretary of the Academy of Inscriptions, and keeper of the medals of theking's cabinet; and Father Castel, a Jesuit, author of the 'Clavecinoculaire'. --[ocular harpsichord. ]

All these recommendations, except that to M. Damesin, were given me bythe Abbe de Malby. 

M. Damesin provided me with that which was most needful, by means of twopersons with whom he brought me acquainted. One was M. Gase, 'presidenta mortier' of the parliament of Bordeaux, and who played very well uponthe violin; the other, the Abbe de Leon, who then lodged in the Sorbonne, a young nobleman; extremely amiable, who died in the flower of his age, after having, for a few moments, made a figure in the world under thename of the Chevalier de Rohan. Both these gentlemen had an inclinationto learn composition. In this I gave them lessons for a few months, bywhich means my decreasing purse received some little aid. The Abbe Leonconceived a friendship for me, and wished me to become his secretary; buthe was far from being rich, and all the salary he could offer me waseight hundred livres, which, with infinite regret, I refused; since itwas insufficient to defray the expenses of my lodging, food, andclothing. 

I was well received by M. De Boze. He had a thirst for knowledge, ofwhich he possessed not a little, but was somewhat pedantic. Madam deBoze much resembled him; she was lively and affected. I sometimes dinedwith them, and it is impossible to be more awkward than I was in herpresence. Her easy manner intimidated me, and rendered mine moreremarkable. When she presented me a plate, I modestly put forward myfork to take one of the least bits of what she offered me, which made hergive the plate to her servant, turning her head aside that I might notsee her laugh. She had not the least suspicion that in the head of therustic with whom she was so diverted there was some small portion of wit. M. De Boze presented me to M. De Reaumur, his friend, who came to dinewith him every Friday, the day on which the Academy of Sciences met. Hementioned to him my project, and the desire I had of having it examinedby the academy. M. De Reaumur consented to make the proposal, and hisoffer was accepted. On the day appointed I was introduced and presentedby M. De Reaumur, and on the same day, August 22d, 1742, I had the honorto read to the academy the memoir I had prepared for that purpose. Although this illustrious assembly might certainly well be expected toinspire me with awe, I was less intimidated on this occasion than I hadbeen in the presence of Madam de Boze, and I got tolerably well throughmy reading and the answers I was obliged to give. The memoir was wellreceived, and acquired me some compliments by which I was equallysurprised and flattered, imagining that before such an assembly, whoeverwas not a member of it could not have commonsense. The persons appointedto examine my system were M. Mairan, M. Hellot, and M. De Fouchy, allthree men of merit, but not one of them understood music, at least notenough of composition to enable them to judge of my project. 

During my conference with these gentlemen, I was convinced with no lesscertainty than surprise, that if men of learning have sometimes fewerprejudices than others, they more tenaciously retain those they have. However weak or false most of their objections were, and although Ianswered them with great timidity, and I confess, in bad terms, yet withdecisive reasons, I never once made myself understood, or gave them anyexplanation in the least satisfactory. I was constantly surprised at thefacility with which, by the aid of a few sonorous phrases, they refuted, without having comprehended me. They had learned, I know not where, thata monk of the name of Souhaitti had formerly invented a mode of notingthe gamut by ciphers: a sufficient proof that my system was not new. This might, perhaps, be the case; for although I had never heard ofFather Souhaitti, and notwithstanding his manner of writing the sevennotes without attending to the octaves was not, under any point of view, worthy of entering into competition with my simple and commodiousinvention for easily noting by ciphers every possible kind of music, keys, rests, octaves, measure, time, and length of note; things on whichSouhaitti had never thought it was nevertheless true, that with respectto the elementary expression of the seven notes, he was the firstinventor. 

But besides their giving to this primitive invention more importance thanwas due to it, they went still further, and, whenever they spoke of thefundamental principles of the system, talked nonsense. The greatestadvantage of my scheme was to supersede transpositions and keys, so thatthe same piece of music was noted and transposed at will by means of thechange of a single initial letter at the head of the air. Thesegentlemen had heard from the music--masters of Paris that the method ofexecuting by transposition was a bad one; and on this authority convertedthe most evident advantage of my system into an invincible objectionagainst it, and affirmed that my mode of notation was good for vocalmusic, but bad for instrumental; instead of concluding as they ought tohave done, that it was good for vocal, and still better for instrumental. On their report the academy granted me a certificate full of finecompliments, amidst which it appeared that in reality it judged my systemto be neither new nor useful. I did not think proper to ornament withsuch a paper the work entitled 'Dissertation sur la musique moderne', bywhich I appealed to the public. 

I had reason to remark on this occasion that, even with a narrowunderstanding, the sole but profound knowledge of a thing is preferablefor the purpose of judging of it, to all the lights resulting from acultivation of the sciences, when to these a particular study of that inquestion has not been joined. The only solid objection to my system wasmade by Rameau. I had scarcely explained it to him before he discoveredits weak part. "Your signs, " said he, "are very good inasmuch as theyclearly and simply determine the length of notes, exactly representintervals, and show the simple in the double note, which the commonnotation does not do; but they are objectionable on account of theirrequiring an operation of the mind, which cannot always accompany therapidity of execution. The position of our notes, " continued he, "isdescribed to the eye without the concurrence of this operation. If twonotes, one very high and the other very low, be joined by a series ofintermediate ones, I see at the first glance the progress from one to theother by conjoined degrees; but in your system, to perceive this series, I must necessarily run over your ciphers one after the other; the glanceof the eye is here useless. " The objection appeared to meinsurmountable, and I instantly assented to it. Although it be simpleand striking, nothing can suggest it but great knowledge and practice ofthe art, and it is by no means astonishing that not one of theacademicians should have thought of it. But what creates much surpriseis, that these men of great learning, and who are supposed to possess somuch knowledge, should so little know that each ought to confine hisjudgment to that which relates to the study with which he has beenconversant. 

My frequent visits to the literati appointed to examine my system and theother academicians gave me an opportunity of becoming acquainted with themost distinguished men of letters in Paris, and by this means theacquaintance that would have been the consequence of my sudden admissionamongst them, which afterwards came to pass, was already established. With respect to the present moment, absorbed in my new system of music, I obstinately adhered to my intention of effecting a revolution in theart, and by that means of acquiring a celebrity which, in the fine arts, is in Paris mostly accompanied by fortune. I shut myself in my chamberand labored three or four months with inexpressible ardor, in forminginto a work for the public eye, the memoir I had read before the academy. The difficulty was to find a bookseller to take my manuscript; and thison account of the necessary expenses for new characters, and becausebooksellers give not their money by handfuls to young authors; althoughto me it seemed but just my work should render me the bread I had eatenwhile employed in its composition. 

Bonnefond introduced me to Quillau the father, with whom I agreed todivide the profits, without reckoning the privilege, of which I paid thewhole expense. Such were the future proceedings of this Quillau that Ilost the expenses of my privilege, never having received a farthing fromthat edition; which, probably, had but very middling success, althoughthe Abbe des Fontaines promised to give it celebrity, and, notwithstanding the other journalists, had spoken of it very favorably. 

The greatest obstacle to making the experiment of my system was the fear, in case of its not being received, of losing the time necessary to learnit. To this I answered, that my notes rendered the ideas so clear, thatto learn music by means of the ordinary characters, time would be gainedby beginning with mine. To prove this by experience, I taught musicgratis to a young American lady, Mademoiselle des Roulins, with whom M. Roguin had brought me acquainted. In three months she read every kind ofmusic, by means of my notation, and sung at sight better than I didmyself, any piece that was not too difficult. This success wasconvincing, but not known; any other person would have filled thejournals with the detail, but with some talents for discovering usefulthings, I never have possessed that of setting them off to advantage. 

Thus was my airy castle again overthrown; but this time I was thirtyyears of age, and in Paris, where it is impossible to live for a trifle. The resolution I took upon this occasion will astonish none but those bywhom the first part of these memoirs has not been read with attention. I had just made great and fruitless efforts, and was in need ofrelaxation. Instead of sinking with despair I gave myself up quietly tomy indolence and to the care of Providence; and the better to wait forits assistance with patience, I lay down a frugal plan for the slowexpenditure of a few louis, which still remained in my possession, regulating the expense of my supine pleasures without retrenching it;going to the coffee-house but every other day, and to the theatre buttwice a week. With respect to the expenses of girls of easy virtue, Ihad no retrenchment to make; never having in the whole course of my lifeapplied so much as a farthing to that use except once, of which I shallsoon have occasion to speak. The security, voluptuousness, andconfidence with which I gave myself up to this indolent and solitarylife, which I had not the means of continuing for three months, is one ofthe singularities of my life, and the oddities of my disposition. Theextreme desire I had, the public should think of me was precisely whatdiscouraged me from showing myself; and the necessity of paying visitsrendered them to such a degree insupportable, that I ceased visiting theacademicians and other men of letters, with whom I had cultivated anacquaintance. Marivaux, the Abbe Malby, and Fontenelle, were almost theonly persons whom I sometimes went to see. To the first I showed mycomedy of Narcissus. He was pleased with it, and had the goodness tomake in it some improvements. Diderot, younger than these, was muchabout my own age. He was fond of music, and knew it theoretically; weconversed together, and he communicated to me some of his literaryprojects. This soon formed betwixt us a more intimate connection, whichlasted fifteen years, and which probably would still exist were not I, unfortunately, and by his own fault, of the same profession with himself. 

It would be impossible to imagine in what manner I employed this shortand precious interval which still remained to me, before circumstancesforced me to beg my bread:--in learning by memory passages from the poetswhich I had learned and forgotten a hundred times. Every morning at teno'clock, I went to walk in the Luxembourg with a Virgil and a Rousseau inmy pocket, and there, until the hour of dinner, I passed away the time inrestoring to my memory a sacred ode or a bucolic, without beingdiscouraged by forgetting, by the study of the morning, what I hadlearned the evening before. I recollected that after the defeat ofNicias at Syracuse the captive Athenians obtained a livelihood byreciting the poems of Homer. The use I made of this erudition to wardoff misery was to exercise my happy memory by learning all the poets byrote. 

I had another expedient, not less solid, in the game of chess, to which Iregularly dedicated, at Maugis, the evenings on which I did not go to thetheatre. I became acquainted with M. De Legal, M. Husson, Philidor, andall the great chess players of the day, without making the leastimprovement in the game. However, I had no doubt but, in the end, Ishould become superior to them all, and this, in my own opinion, was asufficient resource. The same manner of reasoning served me in everyfolly to which I felt myself inclined. I said to myself: whoever excelsin anything is sure to acquire a distinguished reception in society. Letus therefore excel, no matter in what, I shall certainly be sought after;opportunities will present themselves, and my own merit will do the rest. This childishness was not the sophism of my reason; it was that of myindolence. Dismayed at the great and rapid efforts which would have beennecessary to call forth my endeavors, I strove to flatter my idleness, and by arguments suitable to the purpose, veiled from my own eyes theshame of such a state. 

I thus calmly waited for the moment when I was to be without money; andhad not Father Castel, whom I sometimes went to see in my way to thecoffee-house, roused me from my lethargy, I believe I should have seenmyself reduced to my last farthing without the least emotion. FatherCastel was a madman, but a good man upon the whole; he was sorry to seeme thus impoverish myself to no purpose. "Since musicians and thelearned, " said he, "do not sing by your scale, change the string, andapply to the women. You will perhaps succeed better with them. I havespoken of you to Madam de Beuzenval; go to her from me; she is a goodwoman who will be glad to see the countryman of her son and husband. Youwill find at her house Madam de Broglie, her daughter, who is a woman ofwit. Madam Dupin is another to whom I also have mentioned you; carry heryour work; she is desirous of seeing you, and will receive you well. Nothing is done in Paris without the women. They are the curves, of whichthe wise are the asymptotes; they incessantly approach each other, butnever touch. "

After having from day to day delayed these very disagreeable steps, I atlength took courage, and called upon Madam de Beuzenval. She received mewith kindness; and Madam de Broglio entering the chamber, she said toher: "Daughter, this is M. Rousseau, of whom Father Castel has spoken tous. " Madam de Broglie complimented me upon my work, and going to herharpsichord proved to me she had already given it some attention. Perceiving it to be about one o'clock, I prepared to take my leave. Madam de Beuzenval said to me: "You are at a great distance from thequarter of the town in which you reside; stay and dine here. " I did notwant asking a second time. A quarter of an hour afterwards, I understood, by a word, that the dinner to which she had invited me wasthat of her servants' hall. Madam de Beuzenval was a very good kind ofwoman, but of a confined understanding, and too full of her illustriousPolish nobility: she had no idea of the respect due to talents. On thisoccasion, likewise, she judged me by my manner rather than by my dress, which, although very plain, was very neat, and by no means announced aman to dine with servants. I had too long forgotten the way to the placewhere they eat to be inclined to take it again. Without suffering myanger to appear, I told Madam de Beuzenval that I had an affair of atrifling nature which I had just recollected obliged me to return home, and I immediately prepared to depart. Madam de Broglie approached hermother, and whispered in her ear a few words which had their effect. Madam de Beuzenval rose to prevent me from going, and said, "I expectthat you will do us the honor to dine with us. " In this case I thoughtto show pride would be a mark of folly, and I determined to stay. Thegoodness of Madam de Broglie had besides made an impression upon me, andrendered her interesting in my eyes. I was very glad to dine with her, and hoped, that when she knew me better, she would not regret havingprocured me that honor. The President de Lamoignon, very intimate in thefamily, dined there also. He, as well as Madam de Broglie, was a masterof all the modish and fashionable small talk jargon of Paris. Poor JeanJacques was unable to make a figure in this way. I had sense enough notto pretend to it, and was silent. Happy would it have been for me, had Ialways possessed the same wisdom; I should not be in the abyss into whichI am now fallen. I was vexed at my own stupidity, and at being unable tojustify to Madam de Broglie what she had done in my favor. 

After dinner I thought of my ordinary resource. I had in my pocket anepistle in verse, written to Parisot during my residence at Lyons. Thisfragment was not without some fire, which I increased by my manner ofreading, and made them all three shed tears. Whether it was vanity, orreally the truth, I thought the eyes of Madam de Broglie seemed to say toher mother: "Well, mamma, was I wrong in telling you this man was fitterto dine with us than with your women?" Until then my heart had beenrather burdened, but after this revenge I felt myself satisfied. Madamde Broglie, carrying her favorable opinion of me rather too far, thoughtI should immediately acquire fame in Paris, and become a favorite withfine ladies. To guide my inexperience she gave me the confessions of theCount de -----. "This book, " said she, "is a Mentor, of which you willstand in need in the great world. You will do well by sometimesconsulting it. " I kept the book upwards of twenty years with a sentimentof gratitude to her from whose hand I had received it, although Ifrequently laughed at the opinion the lady seemed to have of my merit ingallantry. From the moment I had read the work, I was desirous ofacquiring the friendship of the author. My inclination led me right; heis the only real friend I ever possessed amongst men of letters. 

 [I have so long been of the same opinion, and so perfectly convinced of its being well founded, that since my return to Paris I confided to him the manuscript of my confessions. The suspicious J. J. Never suspected perfidy and falsehood until he had been their victim. ]

From this time I thought I might depend on the services of Madam theBaroness of Beuzenval, and the Marchioness of Broglie, and that theywould not long leave me without resource. In this I was not deceived. But I must now speak of my first visit to Madam Dupin, which producedmore lasting consequences. 

Madam Dupin was, as every one in Paris knows, the daughter of SamuelBernard and Madam Fontaine. There were three sisters, who might becalled the three graces. Madam de la Touche who played a little prank, and went to England with the Duke of Kingston. Madam Darby, the eldestof the three; the friend, the only sincere friend of the Prince of Conti;an adorable woman, as well by her sweetness and the goodness of hercharming character, as by her agreeable wit and incessant cheerfulness. Lastly, Madam Dupin, more beautiful than either of her sisters, and theonly one who has not been reproached with some levity of conduct. 

She was the reward of the hospitality of M. Dupin, to whom her mothergave her in marriage with the place of farmer general and an immensefortune, in return for the good reception he had given her in hisprovince. When I saw her for the first time, she was still one of thefinest women in Paris. She received me at her toilette, her arms wereuncovered, her hair dishevelled, and her combing-cloth ill-arranged. This scene was new to me; it was too powerful for my poor head, I becameconfused, my senses wandered; in short, I was violently smitten by MadamDupin. 

My confusion was not prejudicial to me; she did not perceive it. Shekindly received the book and the author; spoke with information of myplan, sung, accompanied herself on the harpsichord, kept me to dinner, and placed me at table by her side. Less than this would have turned mybrain; I became mad. She permitted me to visit her, and I abused thepermission. I went to see her almost every day, and dined with her twiceor thrice a week. I burned with inclination to speak, but never daredattempt it. Several circumstances increased my natural timidity. Permission to visit in an opulent family was a door open to fortune, andin my situation I was unwilling to run the risk of shutting it againstmyself. 

Madam Dupin, amiable as she was, was serious and unanimated; I foundnothing in her manners sufficiently alluring to embolden me. Her house, at that time, as brilliant as any other in Paris, was frequented bysocieties the less numerous, as the persons by whom they were composedwere chosen on account of some distinguished merit. She was fond ofseeing every one who had claims to a marked superiority; the great men ofletters, and fine women. No person was seen in her circle but dukes, ambassadors, and blue ribbons. The Princess of Rohan, the Countess ofForcalquier, Madam de Mirepoix, Madam de Brignole, and Lady Hervey, passed for her intimate friends. The Abbes de Fontenelle, de SaintPierre, and Saltier, M. De Fourmont, M. De Berms, M. De Buffon, and M. DeVoltaire, were of her circle and her dinners. If her reserved manner didnot attract many young people, her society inspired the greater awe, asit was composed of graver persons, and the poor Jean-Jacques had noreason to flatter himself he should be able to take a distinguished partin the midst of such superior talents. I therefore had not courage tospeak; but no longer able to contain myself, I took a resolution towrite. For the first two days she said not a word to me upon thesubject. On the third day, she returned me my letter, accompanying itwith a few exhortations which froze my blood. I attempted to speak, butmy words expired upon my lips; my sudden passion was extinguished with myhopes, and after a declaration in form I continued to live with her uponthe same terms as before, without so much as speaking to her even by thelanguage of the eyes. 

I thought my folly was forgotten, but I was deceived. M. De Francueil, son to M. Dupin, and son-in-law to Madam Dupin, was much the same withherself and me. He had wit, a good person, and might have pretensions. This was said to be the case, and probably proceeded from hismother-in-law's having given him an ugly wife of a mild disposition, with whom, as well as with her husband, she lived upon the best ofterms. M. De Francueil was fond of talents in others, and cultivatedthose he possessed. Music, which he understood very well, was a meansof producing a connection between us. I frequently saw him, and he soongained my friendship. He, however, suddenly gave me to understand thatMadam Dupin thought my visits too frequent, and begged me to discontinuethem. Such a compliment would have been proper when she returned myletter; but eight or ten days afterwards, and without any new cause, itappeared to me ill-timed. This rendered my situation the more singular, as M. And Madam de Francueil still continued to give me the same goodreception as before. 

I however made the intervals between my visits longer, and I shouldentirely have ceased calling on them, had not Madam Dupin, by anotherunexpected caprice, sent to desire I would for a few days take care ofher son, who changing his preceptor, remained alone during that interval. I passed eight days in such torments as nothing but the pleasure ofobeying Madam Dupin could render supportable: I would not have undertakento pass eight other days like them had Madam Dupin given me herself forthe recompense. 

M. De Francueil conceived a friendship for me, and I studied with him. We began together a course of chemistry at Rouelles. That I might benearer at hand, I left my hotel at Quentin, and went to lodge at theTennis Court, Rue Verdelet, which leads into the Rue Platiere, where M. Dupin lived. There, in consequence of a cold neglected, I contracted aninflammation of the lungs that had liked to have carried me off. In myyounger days I frequently suffered from inflammatory disorders, pleurisies, and especially quinsies, to which I was very subject, andwhich frequently brought me near enough to death to familiarize me to itsimage. 

During my convalescence I had leisure to reflect upon my situation, andto lament my timidity, weakness and indolence; these, notwithstanding thefire with which I found myself inflamed, left me to languish in aninactivity of mind, continually on the verge of misery. The eveningpreceding the day on which I was taken ill, I went to an opera by Royer;the name I have forgotten. Notwithstanding my prejudice in favor of thetalents of others, which has ever made me distrustful of my own, I stillthought the music feeble, and devoid of animation and invention. Isometimes had the vanity to flatter myself: I think I could do betterthan that. But the terrible idea I had formed of the composition of anopera, and the importance I heard men of the profession affix to such anundertaking, instantly discouraged me, and made me blush at having somuch as thought of it. Besides, where was I to find a person to writethe words, and one who would give himself the trouble of turning thepoetry to my liking? These ideas of music and the opera had possessionof my mind during my illness, and in the delirium of my fever I composedsongs, duets, and choruses. I am certain I composed two or three littlepieces, 'di prima infenzione', perhaps worthy of the admiration ofmasters, could they have heard them executed. Oh, could an account betaken of the dreams of a man in a fever, what great and sublime thingswould sometimes proceed from his delirium!

These subjects of music and opera still engaged my attention during myconvalescence, but my ideas were less energetic. Long and frequentmeditations, and which were often involuntary, and made such animpression upon my mind that I resolved to attempt both words and music. This was not the first time I had undertaken so difficult a task. WhilstI was at Chambery I had composed an opera entitled 'Iphis and Anaxarete', which I had the good sense to throw into the fire. At Lyons I hadcomposed another, entitled 'La Decouverte du Nouveau Monde', which, afterhaving read it to M. Bordes, the Abbes Malby, Trublet, and others, hadmet the same fate, notwithstanding I had set the prologue and the firstact to music, and although David, after examining the composition, hadtold me there were passages in it worthy of Buononcini. 

Before I began the work I took time to consider of my plan. In a heroicballet I proposed three different subjects, in three acts, detached fromeach other, set to music of a different character, taking for eachsubject the amours of a poet. I entitled this opera Les Muses Galantes. My first act, in music strongly characterized, was Tasso; the second intender harmony, Ovid; and the third, entitled Anacreon, was to partake ofthe gayety of the dithyrambus. I tried my skill on the first act, andapplied to it with an ardor which, for the first time, made me feel thedelightful sensation produced by the creative power of composition. Oneevening, as I entered the opera, feeling myself strongly incited andoverpowered by my ideas, I put my money again into my pocket, returned tomy apartment, locked the door, and, having close drawn all the curtains, that every ray of light might be excluded, I went to bed, abandoningmyself entirely to this musical and poetical 'oestrum', and in seven oreight hours rapidly composed the greatest part of an act. I can trulysay my love for the Princess of Ferrara (for I was Tasso for the moment)and my noble and lofty sentiment with respect to her unjust brother, procured me a night a hundred times more delicious than one passed in thearms of the princess would have been. In the morning but a very littleof what I had done remained in my head, but this little, almost effacedby sleep and lassitude, still sufficiently evinced the energy of thepieces of which it was the scattered remains. 

I this time did, not proceed far with my undertaking, being interruptedby other affairs. Whilst I attached myself to the family of Dupin, Madamde Beuzenval and Madam de Broglie, whom I continued to visit, had notforgotten me. The Count de Montaigu, captain in the guards, had justbeen appointed ambassador to Venice. He was an ambassador made byBarjac, to whom he assiduously paid his court. His brother, theChevalier de Montaigu, 'gentilhomme de la manche' to the dauphin, wasacquainted with these ladies, and with the Abbe Alary of the Frenchacademy, whom I sometimes visited. Madam de Broglie having heard theambassador was seeking a secretary, proposed me to him. A conference wasopened between us. I asked a salary of fifty guineas, a trifle for anemployment which required me to make some appearance. The ambassador wasunwilling to give more than a thousand livres, leaving me to make thejourney at my own expense. The proposal was ridiculous. We could notagree, and M. De Francueil, who used all his efforts to prevent mydeparture, prevailed. 

I stayed, and M. De Montaigu set out on his journey, taking with himanother secretary, one M. Follau, who had been recommended to him by theoffice of foreign affairs. They no sooner arrived at Venice than theyquarrelled. Bollau perceiving he had to do with a madman, left himthere, and M. De Montaigu having nobody with him, except a young abbe ofthe name of Binis, who wrote under the secretary, and was unfit tosucceed him, had recourse to me. The chevalier, his brother, a man ofwit, by giving me to understand there were advantages annexed to theplace of secretary, prevailed upon me to accept the thousand livres. I was paid twenty louis in advance for my journey, and immediatelydeparted. 

At Lyons I would most willingly have taken the road to Mount Cenis, tosee my poor mamma. But I went down the Rhone, and embarked at Toulon, aswell on account of the war, and from a motive of economy, as to obtain apassport from M. De Mirepoix, who then commanded in Provence, and to whomI was recommended. M. De Montaigu not being able to do without me, wroteletter after letter, desiring I would hasten my journey; this, however, an accident considerably prolonged. 

It was at the time of the plague at Messina, and the English fleet hadanchored there, and visited the Felucca, on board of which I was, andthis circumstance subjected us, on our arrival, after a long anddifficult voyage, to a quarantine of one--and--twenty days. 

The passengers had the choice of performing it on board or in theLazaretto, which we were told was not yet furnished. They all chose theFelucca. The insupportable heat, the closeness of the vessel, theimpossibility of walking in it, and the vermin with which it swarmed, made me at all risks prefer the Lazaretto. I was therefore conducted toa large building of two stories, quite empty, in which I found neitherwindow, bed, table, nor chair, not so much as even a joint-stool orbundle of straw. My night sack and my two trunks being brought me, I wasshut in by great doors with huge locks, and remained at full liberty towalk at my ease from chamber to chamber and story to story, everywherefinding the same solitude and nakedness. 

This, however, did not induce me to repent that I had preferred theLazaretto to the Felucca; and, like another Robinson Crusoe, I began toarrange myself for my one-and twenty days, just as I should have done formy whole life. In the first place, I had the amusement of destroying thevermin I had caught in the Felucca. As soon as I had got clear of these, by means of changing my clothes and linen, I proceeded to furnish thechamber I had chosen. I made a good mattress with my waistcoats andshirts; my napkins I converted, by sewing them together, into sheets; myrobe de chambre into a counterpane; and my cloak into a pillow. I mademyself a seat with one of my trunks laid flat, and a table with theother. I took out some writing paper and an inkstand, and distributed, in the manner of a library, a dozen books which I had with me. In aword, I so well arranged my few movables, that except curtains andwindows, I was almost as commodiously lodged in this Lazeretto, absolutely empty as it was, as I had been at the Tennis Court in the RueVerdelet. My dinners were served with no small degree of pomp; they wereescorted by two grenadiers with bayonets fixed; the staircase was mydining--room, the landing-place my table, and the steps served me for aseat; and as soon as my dinner was served up a little bell was rung toinform me I might sit down to table. 

Between my repasts, when I did not either read or write or work at thefurnishing of my apartment, I went to walk in the burying-ground of theProtestants, which served me as a courtyard. From this place I ascendedto a lanthorn which looked into the harbor, and from which I could seethe ships come in and go out. In this manner I passed fourteen days, andshould have thus passed the whole time of the quarantine without theleast weariness had not M. Joinville, envoy from France, to whom I foundmeans to send a letter, vinegared, perfumed, and half burnt, procuredeight days of the time to be taken off: these I went and spent at hishouse, where I confess I found myself better lodged than in theLazaretto. He was extremely civil to me. Dupont, his secretary, was agood creature: he introduced me, as well at Genoa as in the country, toseveral families, the company of which I found very entertaining andagreeable; and I formed with him an acquaintance and a correspondencewhich we kept up for a considerable length of time. I continued myjourney, very agreeably, through Lombardy. I saw Milan, Verona, Brescie, and Padua, and at length arrived at Venice, where I was impatientlyexpected by the ambassador. 

I found there piles of despatches, from the court and from otherambassadors, the ciphered part of which he had not been able to read, although he had all the ciphers necessary for that purpose, never havingbeen employed in any office, nor even seen the cipher of a minister. Iwas at first apprehensive of meeting with some embarrassment; but I foundnothing could be more easy, and in less than a week I had deciphered thewhole, which certainly was not worth the trouble; for not to mention thelittle activity required in the embassy of Venice, it was not to such aman as M. De Montaigu that government would confide a negotiation of eventhe most trifling importance. Until my arrival he had been muchembarrassed, neither knowing how to dictate nor to write legibly. I wasvery useful to him, of which he was sensible; and he treated me well. Tothis he was also induced by another motive. Since the time of M. DeFroulay, his predecessor, whose head became deranged, the consul fromFrance, M. Le Blond, had been charged with the affairs of the embassy, and after the arrival of M. De Montaigu, continued to manage them untilhe had put him into the track. M. De Montaigu, hurt at this discharge ofhis duty by another, although he himself was incapable of it, becamedisgusted with the consul, and as soon as I arrived deprived him of thefunctions of secretary to the embassy to give them to me. They wereinseparable from the title, and he told me to take it. As long as Iremained with him he never sent any person except myself under this titleto the senate, or to conference, and upon the whole it was natural enoughhe should prefer having for secretary to the embassy a man attached tohim, to a consul or a clerk of office named by the court. 

This rendered my situation very agreeable, and prevented his gentlemen, who were Italians, as well as his pages, and most of his suite fromdisputing precedence with me in his house. I made an advantageous use ofthe authority annexed to the title he had conferred upon me, bymaintaining his right of protection, that is, the freedom of hisneighborhood, against the attempts several times made to infringe it;a privilege which his Venetian officers took no care to defend. But I never permitted banditti to take refuge there, although this wouldhave produced me advantages of which his excellency would not havedisdained to partake. He thought proper, however, to claim a part ofthose of the secretaryship, which is called the chancery. It was in timeof war, and there were many passports issued. For each of thesepassports a sequin was paid to the secretary who made it out andcountersigned it. All my predecessors had been paid this sequin byFrenchmen and others without distinction. I thought this unjust, andalthough I was not a Frenchman, I abolished it in favor of the French;but I so rigorously demanded my right from persons of every other nation, that the Marquis de Scotti, brother to the favorite of the Queen ofSpain, having asked for a passport without taking notice of the sequin: Isent to demand it; a boldness which the vindictive Italian did notforget. As soon as the new regulation I had made, relative to passports, was known, none but pretended Frenchmen, who in a gibberish the mostmispronounced, called themselves Provencals, Picards, or Burgundians, came to demand them. My ear being very fine, I was not thus made a dupe, and I am almost persuaded that not a single Italian ever cheated me of mysequin, and that not one Frenchman ever paid it. I was foolish enough totell M. De Montaigu, who was ignorant of everything that passed, what Ihad done. The word sequin made him open his ears, and without giving mehis opinion of the abolition of that tax upon the French, he pretended Iought to account with him for the others, promising me at the same timeequivalent advantages. More filled with indignation at this meanness, than concern for my own interest, I rejected his proposal. He insisted, and I grew warm. "No, sir, " said I, with some heat, "your excellency maykeep what belongs to you, but do not take from me that which is mine; Iwill not suffer you to touch a penny of the perquisites arising frompassports. " Perceiving he could gain nothing by these means he hadrecourse to others, and blushed not to tell me that since I hadappropriated to myself the profits of the chancery, it was but just Ishould pay the expenses. I was unwilling to dispute upon this subject, and from that time I furnished at my own expense, ink, paper, wax, wax-candle, tape, and even a new seal, for which he never reimbursed meto the amount of a farthing. This, however, did not prevent my giving asmall part of the produce of the passports to the Abbe de Binis, a goodcreature, and who was far from pretending to have the least right to anysuch thing. If he was obliging to me my politeness to him was anequivalent, and we always lived together on the best of terms. 

On the first trial I made of his talents in my official functions, I found him less troublesome than I expected he would have been, considering he was a man without experience, in the service of anambassador who possessed no more than himself, and whose ignorance andobstinacy constantly counteracted everything with which common-sense andsome information inspired me for his service and that of the king. Thenext thing the ambassador did was to connect himself with the MarquisMari, ambassador from Spain, an ingenious and artful man, who, had hewished so to do, might have led him by the nose, yet on account of theunion of the interests of the two crowns he generally gave him goodadvice, which might have been of essential service, had not the other, byjoining his own opinion, counteracted it in the execution. The onlybusiness they had to conduct in concert with each other was to engage theVenetians to maintain their neutrality. These did not neglect to givethe strongest assurances of their fidelity to their engagement at thesame time that they publicly furnished ammunition to the Austrian troops, and even recruits under pretense of desertion. M. De Montaigu, who Ibelieve wished to render himself agreeable to the republic, failed not onhis part, notwithstanding my representation to make me assure thegovernment in all my despatches, that the Venetians would never violatean article of the neutrality. The obstinacy and stupidity of this poorwretch made me write and act extravagantly: I was obliged to be the agentof his folly, because he would have it so, but he sometimes rendered myemployment insupportable and the functions of it almost impracticable. For example, he insisted on the greatest part of his despatches to theking, and of those to the minister, being written in cipher, althoughneither of them contained anything that required that precaution. Irepresented to him that between the Friday, the day the despatches fromthe court arrived, and Saturday, on which ours were sent off, there wasnot sufficient time to write so much in cipher, and carry on theconsiderable correspondence with which I was charged for the samecourier. He found an admirable expedient, which was to prepare onThursday the answer to the despatches we were expected to receive on thenext day. This appeared to him so happily imagined, that notwithstandingall I could say on the impossibility of the thing, and the absurdity ofattempting its execution, I was obliged to comply during the whole time Iafterwards remained with him, after having made notes of the few loosewords he spoke to me in the course of the week, and of some trivialcircumstances which I collected by hurrying from place to place. Provided with these materials I never once failed carrying to him on theThursday morning a rough draft of the despatches which were to be sentoff on Saturday, excepting the few additions and corrections I hastilymade in answer to the letters which arrived on the Friday, and to whichours served for answer. He had another custom, diverting enough andwhich made his correspondence ridiculous beyond imagination. He sentback all information to its respective source, instead of making itfollow its course. To M. Amelot he transmitted the news of the court; toM. Maurepas, that of Paris; to M. D' Havrincourt, the news from Sweden;to M. De Chetardie, that from Petersbourg; and sometimes to each of thosethe news they had respectively sent to him, and which I was employed todress up in terms different from those in which it was conveyed to us. As he read nothing of what I laid before him, except the despatches forthe court, and signed those to other ambassadors without reading them, this left me more at liberty to give what turn I thought proper to thelatter, and in these therefore I made the articles of information crosseach other. But it was impossible for-me to do the same by despatches ofimportance; and I thought myself happy when M. De Montaigu did not takeit into his head to cram into them an impromptu of a few lines after hismanner. This obliged me to return, and hastily transcribe the wholedespatch decorated with his new nonsense, and honor it with the cipher, without which he would have refused his signature. I was frequentlyalmost tempted, for the sake of his reputation, to cipher somethingdifferent from what he had written, but feeling that nothing couldauthorize such a deception, I left him to answer for his own folly, satisfying myself with having spoken to him with freedom, and dischargedat my own peril the duties of my station. This is what I always did withan uprightness, a zeal and courage, which merited on his part a verydifferent recompense from that which in the end I received from him. Itwas time I should once be what Heaven, which had endowed me with a happydisposition, what the education that had been given me by the best ofwomen, and that I had given myself, had prepared me for, and I became so. Left to my own reflections, without a friend or advice, withoutexperience, and in a foreign country, in the service of a foreign nation, surrounded by a crowd of knaves, who, for their own interest, and toavoid the scandal of good example, endeavored to prevail upon me toimitate them; far from yielding to their solicitations, I served Francewell, to which I owed nothing, and the ambassador still better, as it wasright and just I should do to the utmost of my power. Irreproachable ina post, sufficiently exposed to censure, I merited and obtained theesteem of the republic, that of all the ambassadors with whom we were incorrespondence, and the affection of the French who resided at Venice, not even excepting the consul, whom with regret I supplanted in thefunctions which I knew belonged to him, and which occasioned me moreembarrassment than they afforded me satisfaction. 

M. De Montaigu, confiding without reserve to the Marquis Mari, who didnot thoroughly understand his duty, neglected it to such a degree thatwithout me the French who were at Venice would not have perceived that anambassador from their nation resided there. Always put off without beingheard when they stood in need of his protection, they became disgustedand no longer appeared in his company or at his table, to which indeed henever invited them. I frequently did from myself what it was his duty tohave done; I rendered to the French, who applied to me, all the servicesin my power. In any other country I should have done more, but, onaccount of my employment, not being able to see persons in place, I wasoften obliged to apply to the consul, and the consul, who was settled inthe country with his family, had many persons to oblige, which preventedhim from acting as he otherwise would have done. However, perceiving himunwilling and afraid to speak, I ventured hazardous measures, whichsometimes succeeded. I recollect one which still makes me laugh. Noperson would suspect it was to me, the lovers of the theatre at Paris, owe Coralline and her sister Camille, nothing however, can be more true. Veronese, their father, had engaged himself with his children in theItalian company, and after having received two thousand livres for theexpenses of his journey, instead of setting out for France, quietlycontinued at Venice, and accepted an engagement in the theatre of SaintLuke, to which Coralline, a child as she still was, drew great numbers ofpeople. The Duke de Greves, as first gentleman of the chamber, wrote tothe ambassador to claim the father and the daughter. M. De Montaigu whenhe gave me the letter, confined his instructions to saying, 'voyez cela', examine and pay attention to this. I went to M. Blond to beg he wouldspeak to the patrician, to whom the theatre belonged, and who, I believe, was named Zustinian, that he might discharge Veronese, who had engaged inthe name of the king. Le Blond, to whom the commission was not veryagreeable, executed it badly. 

Zustinian answered vaguely, and Veronese was not discharged. I waspiqued at this. It was during the carnival, and having taken the bahuteand a mask, I set out for the palace Zustinian. Those who saw my gondolaarrive with the livery of the ambassador, were lost in astonishment. Venice had never seen such a thing. I entered, and caused myself to beannounced by the name of 'Una Siora Masehera'. As soon as I wasintroduced I took off my mask and told my name. The senator turned paleand appeared stupefied with surprise. "Sir;" said I to him in Venetian, "it is with much regret I importune your excellency with this visit; butyou have in your theatre of Saint Luke, a man of the name of Veronese, who is engaged in the service of the king, and whom you have beenrequested, but in vain, to give up: I come to claim him in the name ofhis majesty. " My short harangue was effectual. I had no sooner left thepalace than Zustinian ran to communicate the adventure to the stateinquisitors, by whom he was severely reprehended. Veronese wasdischarged the same day. I sent him word that if he did not set offwithin a week I would have him arrested. He did not wait for my givinghim this intimation a second time. 

On another occasion I relieved from difficulty solely by my own means, and almost without the assistance of any other person, the captain of amerchant-ship. This was one Captain Olivet, from Marseilles; the name ofthe vessel I have forgotten. His men had quarreled with the Sclavoniansin the service of the republic, some violence had been committed, and thevessel was under so severe an embargo that nobody except the master wassuffered to go on board or leave it without permission. He applied tothe ambassador, who would hear nothing he had to say. He afterwards wentto the consul, who told him it was not an affair of commerce, and that hecould not interfere in it. Not knowing what further steps to take heapplied to me. I told M. De Montaigu he ought to permit me to lay beforethe senate a memoir on the subject. I do not recollect whether or not heconsented, or that I presented the memoir; but I perfectly remember thatif I did it was ineffectual, and the embargo still continuing, I tookanother method, which succeeded. I inserted a relation of the affairs inone of our letters to M. De Maurepas, though I had difficulty inprevailing upon M. De Montaigne to suffer the article to pass. 

I knew that our despatches, although their contents were insignificant, were opened at Venice. Of this I had a proof by finding the articlesthey contained, verbatim in the gazette, a treachery of which I had invain attempted to prevail upon the ambassador to complain. My object inspeaking of the affair in the letter was to turn the curiosity of theministers of the republic to advantage, to inspire them with someapprehensions, and to induce the state to release the vessel: for had itbeen necessary to this effect to wait for an answer from the court, thecaptain would have been ruined before it could have arrived. I did stillmore, I went alongside the vessel to make inquiries of the ship'scompany. I took with me the Abbe Patizel, chancellor of the consulship, who would rather have been excused, so much were these poor creaturesafraid of displeasing the Senate. As I could not go on board, on accountof the order from the states, I remained in my gondola, and there tookthe depositions successively, interrogating each of the mariners, anddirecting my questions in such a manner as to produce answers which mightbe to their advantage. I wished to prevail upon Patizel to put thequestions and take depositions himself, which in fact was more hisbusiness than mine; but to this he would not consent; he never onceopened his mouth and refused to sign the depositions after me. Thisstep, somewhat bold, was however, successful, and the vessel was releasedlong before an answer came from the minister. The captain wished to makeme a present; but without being angry with him on that account, I tappedhim on the shoulder, saying, "Captain Olivet, can you imagine that he whodoes not receive from the French his perquisite for passports, which hefound his established right, is a man likely to sell them the king'sprotection?" He, however, insisted on giving me a dinner on board hisvessel, which I accepted, and took with me the secretary to the Spanishembassy, M. Carrio, a man of wit and amiable manners, to partake of it:he has since been secretary to the Spanish embassy at Paris and chargedes affaires. I had formed an intimate connection with him after theexample of our ambassadors. 

Happy should I have been, if, when in the most disinterested manner I didall the service I could, I had known how to introduce sufficient orderinto all these little details, that I might not have served others at myown expense. But in employments similar to that I held, in which themost trifling faults are of consequence, my whole attention was engagedin avoiding all such mistakes as might be detrimental to my service. Iconducted, till the last moment, everything relative to my immediateduty, with the greatest order and exactness. Excepting a few errorswhich a forced precipitation made me commit in ciphering, and of whichthe clerks of M. Amelot once complained, neither the ambassador nor anyother person had ever the least reason to reproach me with negligence inany one of my functions. This is remarkable in a man so negligent as Iam. But my memory sometimes failed me, and I was not sufficientlycareful in the private affairs with which I was charged; however, a loveof justice always made me take the loss on myself, and this voluntarily, before anybody thought of complaining. I will mention but onecircumstance of this nature; it relates to my departure from Venice, andI afterwards felt the effects of it in Paris. 

Our cook, whose name was Rousselot, had brought from France an old notefor two hundred livres, which a hairdresser, a friend of his, hadreceived from a noble Venetian of the name of Zanetto Nani, who had hadwigs of him to that amount. Rousselot brought me the note, begging Iwould endeavor to obtain payment of some part of it, by way ofaccommodation. I knew, and he knew it also, that the constant custom ofnoble Venetians was, when once returned to their country, never to paythe debts they had contracted abroad. When means are taken to force themto payment, the wretched creditor finds so many delays, and incurs suchenormous expenses, that he becomes disgusted and concludes by giving uphis debtor accepting the most trifling composition. I begged M. Le Blondto speak to Zanetto. The Venetian acknowledged the note, but did notagree to payment. After a long dispute he at length promised threesequins; but when Le Blond carried him the note even these were notready, and it was necessary to wait. In this interval happened myquarrel with the ambassador and I quitted his service. I had left thepapers of the embassy in the greatest order, but the note of Rousselotwas not to be found. M. Le Blond assured me he had given it me back. Iknew him to be too honest a man to have the least doubt of the matter;but it was impossible for me to recollect what I had done with it. AsZanetto had acknowledged the debt, I desired M. Le Blond to endeavor toobtain from him the three sequins on giving him a receipt for the amount, or to prevail upon him to renew the note by way of duplicate. Zanetto, knowing the note to be lost, would not agree to either. I offeredRousselot the three sequins from my own purse, as a discharge of thedebt. He refused them, and said I might settle the matter with thecreditor at Paris, of whom he gave me the address. The hair-dresser, having been informed of what had passed, would either have his note orthe whole sum for which it was given. What, in my indignation, would Ihave given to have found this vexatious paper! I paid the two hundredlivres, and that in my greatest distress. In this manner the loss of thenote produced to the creditor the payment of the whole sum, whereas hadit, unfortunately for him, been found, he would have had some difficultyin recovering even the ten crowns, which his excellency, Zanetto Nani, had promised to pay. 

The talents I thought I felt in myself for my employment made medischarge the functions of it with satisfaction, and except the societyof my friend de Carrio, that of the virtuous Altuna, of whom I shall soonhave an occasion to speak, the innocent recreations of the place SaintMark, of the theatre, and of a few visits which we, for the most part, made together, my only pleasure was in the duties of my station. Although these were not considerable, especially with the aid of the Abbede Binis, yet as the correspondence was very extensive and there was awar, I was a good deal employed. I applied to business the greatest partof every morning, and on the days previous to the departure of thecourier, in the evenings, and sometimes till midnight. The rest of mytime I gave to the study of the political professions I had entered upon, and in which I hoped, from my successful beginning, to be advantageouslyemployed. In fact I was in favor with every one; the ambassador himselfspoke highly of my services, and never complained of anything I did forhim; his dissatisfaction proceeded from my having insisted on quittinghim, inconsequence of the useless complaints I had frequently made onseveral occasions. The ambassadors and ministers of the king with whomwe were in correspondence complimented him on the merit of his secretary, in a manner by which he ought to have been flattered, but which in hispoor head produced quite a contrary effect. He received one inparticular relative to an affair of importance, for which he neverpardoned me. 

He was so incapable of bearing the least constraint, that on theSaturday, the day of the despatches for most of the courts he could notcontain himself, and wait till the business was done before he went out, and incessantly pressing me to hasten the despatches to the king andministers, he signed them with precipitation, and immediately went I knownot where, leaving most of the other letters without signing; thisobliged me, when these contained nothing but news, to convert them intojournals; but when affairs which related to the king were in question itwas necessary somebody should sign, and I did it. This once happenedrelative to some important advice we had just received from M. Vincent, charge des affaires from the king, at Vienna. The Prince Lobkowitz wasthen marching to Naples, and Count Gages had just made the most memorableretreat, the finest military manoeuvre of the whole century, of whichEurope has not sufficiently spoken. The despatch informed us that a man, whose person M. Vincent described, had set out from Vienna, and was topass by Venice, in his way into Abruzzo, where he was secretly to stir upthe people at the approach of the Austrians. 

In the absence of M. Le Comte de Montaigu, who did not give himself theleast concern about anything, I forwarded this advice to the Marquis del'Hopital, so apropos, that it is perhaps to the poor Jean Jacques, soabused and laughed at, that the house of Bourbon owes the preservation ofthe kingdom of Naples. 

The Marquis de l'Hopital, when he thanked his colleague, as it was properhe should do, spoke to him of his secretary, and mentioned the service hehad just rendered to the common cause. The Comte de Montaigu, who inthat affair had to reproach himself with negligence, thought he perceivedin the compliment paid him by M. De l'Hopital, something like a reproach, and spoke of it to me with signs of ill-humor. I found it necessary toact in the same manner with the Count de Castellane, ambassador atConstantinople, as I had done with the Marquis de l'Hopital, although inthings of less importance. As there was no other conveyance toConstantinople than by couriers, sent from time to time by the senate toits Bailli, advice of their departure was given to the ambassador ofFrance, that he might write by them to his colleague, if he thoughtproper so to do. This advice was commonly sent a day or two beforehand;but M. De Montaigu was held in so little respect, that merely for thesake of form he was sent to, a couple of hours before the couriers setoff. This frequently obliged me to write the despatch in his absence. M. De Castellane, in his answer made honorable mention of me; M. DeJonville, at Genoa, did the same, and these instances of their regard andesteem became new grievances. 

I acknowledge I did not neglect any opportunity of making myself known;but I never sought one improperly, and in serving well I thought I had aright to aspire to the natural return for essential services; the esteemof those capable of judging of, and rewarding them. I will not saywhether or not my exactness in discharging the duties of my employmentwas a just subject of complaint from the ambassador; but I cannot refrainfrom declaring that it was the sole grievance he ever mentioned previousto our separation. 

His house, which he had never put on a good footing, was constantlyfilled with rabble; the French were ill-treated in it, and the ascendancywas given to the Italians; of these even, the more honest part, they whohad long been in the service of the embassy, were indecently discharged, his first gentleman in particular, whom he had taken from the Comte deFroulay, and who, if I remember right, was called Comte de Peati, orsomething very like that name. The second gentleman, chosen by M. DeMontaigu, was an outlaw highwayman from Mantua, called Dominic Vitali, towhom the ambassador intrusted the care of his house, and who had by meansof flattery and sordid economy, obtained his confidence, and became hisfavorite to the great prejudice of the few honest people he still hadabout him, and of the secretary who was at their head. The countenanceof an upright man always gives inquietude to knaves. Nothing more wasnecessary to make Vitali conceive a hatred against me: but for thissentiment there was still another cause which rendered it more cruel. Ofthis I must give an account, that I may be condemned if I am found in thewrong. 

The ambassador had, according to custom, a box at each of the theaters. Every day at dinner he named the theater to which it was his intention togo: I chose after him, and the gentlemen disposed of the other boxes. When I went out I took the key of the box I had chosen. One day, Vitalinot being in the way, I ordered the footman who attended on me, to bringme the key to a house which I named to him. Vitali, instead of sendingthe key, said he had disposed of it. I was the more enraged at this asthe footman delivered his message in public. In the evening Vitaliwished to make me some apology, to which however I would not listen. "To--morrow, sir, " said I to him, "you will come at such an hour andapologize to me in the house where I received the affront, and in thepresence of the persons who were witnesses to it; or after to--morrow, whatever may be the consequences, either you or I will leave the house. "This firmness intimidated him. He came to the house at the hourappointed, and made me a public apology, with a meanness worthy ofhimself. But he afterwards took his measures at leisure, and at the sametime that he cringed to me in public, he secretly acted in so vile amanner, that although unable to prevail on the ambassador to give me mydismission, he laid me under the necessity of resolving to leave him. 

A wretch like him, certainly, could not know me, but he knew enough of mycharacter to make it serviceable to his purposes. He knew I was mild toan excess, and patient in bearing involuntary wrongs; but haughty andimpatient when insulted with premeditated offences; loving decency anddignity in things in which these were requisite, and not more exact inrequiring the respect due to myself, than attentive in rendering thatwhich I owed to others. In this he undertook to disgust me, and in thishe succeeded. He turned the house upside down, and destroyed the orderand subordination I had endeavored to establish in it. A house without awoman stands in need of rather a severe discipline to preserve thatmodesty which is inseparable from dignity. He soon converted ours into aplace of filthy debauch and scandalous licentiousness, the haunt ofknaves and debauchees. He procured for second gentleman to hisexcellency, in the place of him whom he got discharged, another pimp likehimself, who kept a house of ill--fame, at the Cross of Malta; and theindecency of these two rascals was equalled by nothing but theirinsolence. Except the bed-chamber of the ambassador, which, however, wasnot in very good order, there was not a corner in the whole housesupportable to an modest man. 

As his excellency did not sup, the gentleman and myself had a privatetable, at which the Abbe Binis and the pages also eat. In the mostpaltry ale-house people are served with more cleanliness and decency, have cleaner linen, and a table better supplied. We had but one littleand very filthy candle, pewter plates, and iron forks. 

I could have overlooked what passed in secret, but I was deprived of mygondola. I was the only secretary to an ambassador, who was obliged tohire one or go on foot, and the livery of his excellency no longeraccompanied me, except when I went to the senate. Besides, everythingwhich passed in the house was known in the city. All those who were inthe service of the other ambassadors loudly exclaimed; Dominic, the onlycause of all, exclaimed louder than anybody, well knowing the indecencywith which we were treated was more affecting to me than to any otherperson. Though I was the only one in the house who said nothing of thematter abroad, I complained loudly of it to the ambassador, as well as ofhimself, who, secretly excited by the wretch, entirely devoted to hiswill, daily made me suffer some new affront. Obliged to spend a gooddeal to keep up a footing with those in the same situation with myself, and to make are appearance proper to my employment, I could not touch afarthing of my salary, and when I asked him for money, he spoke of hisesteem for me, and his confidence, as if either of these could havefilled my purse, and provided for everything. 

These two banditti at length quite turned the head of their master, whonaturally had not a good one, and ruined him by a continual traffic, andby bargains, of which he was the dupe, whilst they persuaded him theywere greatly in his favor. They persuaded him to take upon the Brenta, aPalazzo, at twice the rent it was worth, and divided the surplus with theproprietor. The apartments were inlaid with mosaic, and ornamented withcolumns and pilasters, in the taste of the country. M. De Montaigu, hadall these superbly masked by fir wainscoting, for no other reason thanbecause at Paris apartments were thus fitted up. It was for a similarreason that he only, of all the ambassadors who were at Venice, took fromhis pages their swords, and from his footmen their canes. Such was theman, who, perhaps from the same motive took a dislike to me on account ofmy serving him faithfully. 

I patiently endured his disdain, his brutality, and ill-treatment, aslong as, perceiving them accompanied by ill-humor, I thought they had inthem no portion of hatred; but the moment I saw the design formed ofdepriving me of the honor I merited by my faithful services, I resolvedto resign my employment. The first mark I received of his ill will wasrelative to a dinner he was to give to the Duke of Modena and his family, who were at Venice, and at which he signified to me I should not bepresent. I answered, piqued, but not angry, that having the honor dailyto dine at his table, if the Duke of Modena, when he came, required Ishould not appear at it, my duty as well as the dignity of his excellencywould not suffer me to consent to such a request. "How;" said hepassionately, "my secretary, who is not a gentleman, pretends to dinewith a sovereign when my gentlemen do not!" "Yes, sir, " replied I, "thepost with which your excellency has honored me, as long as I dischargethe functions of it, so far ennobles me that my rank is superior to thatof your gentlemen or of the persons calling themselves such; and I amadmitted where they cannot appear. You cannot but know that on the dayon which you shall make your public entry, I am called to the ceremony byetiquette; and by an immemorial custom, to follow you in a dress ofceremony, and afterwards to dine with you at the palace of St. Mark; andI know not why a man who has a right and is to eat in public with thedoge and the senate of Venice should not eat in private with the Duke ofModena. " Though this argument was unanswerable, it did not convince theambassador; but we had no occasion to renew the dispute, as the Duke ofModena did not come to dine with him. 

From that moment he did everything in his power to make thingsdisagreeable to me; and endeavored unjustly to deprive me of my rights, by taking from me the pecuniary advantages annexed to my employment, togive them to his dear Vitali; and I am convinced that had he dared tosend him to the senate, in my place, he would have done it. He commonlyemployed the Abbe Binis in his closet, to write his private letters: hemade use of him to write to M. De Maurepas an account of the affair ofCaptain Olivet, in which, far from taking the least notice of me, theonly person who gave himself any concern about the matter, he deprived meof the honor of the depositions, of which he sent him a duplicate, forthe purpose of attributing them to Patizel, who had not opened his mouth. He wished to mortify me, and please his favorite; but had no desire todismiss me his service. He perceived it would be more difficult to findme a successor, than M. Follau, who had already made him known to theworld. An Italian secretary was absolutely necessary to him, on accountof the answers from the senate; one who could write all his despatches, and conduct his affairs, without his giving himself the least troubleabout anything; a person who, to the merit of serving him well, couldjoin the baseness of being the toad-eater of his gentlemen, withouthonor, merit, or principles. He wished to retain, and humble me, bykeeping me far from my country, and his own, without money to return toeither, and in which he would, perhaps, had succeeded, had he began withmore moderation: but Vitali, who had other views, and wished to force meto extremities, carried his point. The moment I perceived, I lost all mytrouble, that the ambassador imputed to me my services as so many crimes, instead of being satisfied with them; that with him I had nothing toexpect, but things disagreeable at home, and injustice abroad; and that, in the general disesteem into which he was fallen, his ill offices mightbe prejudicial to me, without the possibility of my being served by hisgood ones; I took my resolution, and asked him for my dismission, leavinghim sufficient time to provide himself with another secretary. Withoutanswering yes or no, he continued to treat me in the same manner, as ifnothing had been said. Perceiving things to remain in the same state, and that he took no measures to procure himself a new secretary, I wroteto his brother, and, explaining to him my motives, begged he would obtainmy dismission from his excellency, adding that whether I received it ornot, I could not possibly remain with him. I waited a long time withoutany answer, and began to be embarrassed: but at length the ambassadorreceived a letter from his brother, which must have remonstrated with himin very plain terms; for although he was extremely subject to ferociousrage, I never saw him so violent as on this occasion. After torrents ofunsufferable reproaches, not knowing what more to say, he accused me ofhaving sold his ciphers. I burst into a loud laughter, and asked him, ina sneering manner, if he thought there was in Venice a man who would befool enough to give half a crown for them all. He threatened to call hisservants to throw me out of the window. Until then I had been verycomposed; but on this threat, anger and indignation seized me in my turn. I sprang to the door, and after having turned a button which fastened itwithin: "No, count, " said I, returning to him with a grave step, "Yourservants shall have nothing to do with this affair; please to let it besettled between ourselves. " My action and manner instantly made himcalm; fear and surprise were marked in his countenance. The moment I sawhis fury abated, I bid him adieu in a very few words, and without waitingfor his answer, went to the door, opened it, and passed slowly across theantechamber, through the midst of his people, who rose according tocustom, and who, I am of opinion, would rather have lent their assistanceagainst him than me. Without going back to my apartment, I descended thestairs, and immediately went out of the palace never more to enter it. 

I hastened immediately to M. Le Blond and related to him what hadhappened. Knowing the man, he was but little surprised. He kept me todinner. This dinner, although without preparation, was splendid. All the French of consequence who were at Venice, partook of it. The ambassador had not a single person. The consul related my case tothe company. The cry was general, and by no means in favor of hisexcellency. He had not settled my account, nor paid me a farthing, and being reduced to the few louis I had in my pocket, I was extremelyembarrassed about my return to France. Every purse was opened to me. I took twenty sequins from that of M. Le Blond, and as many from that ofM. St. Cyr, with whom, next to M. Le Blond, I was the most intimatelyconnected. I returned thanks to the rest; and, till my departure, wentto lodge at the house of the chancellor of the consulship, to prove tothe public, the nation was not an accomplice in the injustice of theambassador. 

His excellency, furious at seeing me taken notice of in my misfortune, atthe same time that, notwithstanding his being an ambassador, nobody wentnear his house, quite lost his senses and behaved like a madman. Heforgot himself so far as to present a memoir to the senate to get mearrested. On being informed of this by the Abbe de Binis, I resolved toremain a fortnight longer, instead of setting off the next day as I hadintended. My conduct had been known and approved of by everybody; I wasuniversally esteemed. The senate did not deign to return an answer tothe extravagant memoir of the ambassador, but sent me word I might remainin Venice as long as I thought proper, without making myself uneasy aboutthe attempts of a madman. I continued to see my friends: I went to takeleave of the ambassador from Spain, who received me well, and of theComte de Finochietti, minister from Naples, whom I did not find at home. I wrote him a letter and received from his excellency the most polite andobliging answer. At length I took my departure, leaving behind me, notwithstanding my embarrassment, no other debts than the two sums I hadborrowed, and of which I have just spoken; and an account of fifty crownswith a shopkeeper, of the name of Morandi, which Carrio promised to pay, and which I have never reimbursed him, although we have frequently metsince that time; but with respect to the two sums of money, I returnedthem very exactly the moment I had it in my power. 

I cannot take leave of Venice without saying something of the celebratedamusements of that city, or at least of the little part of them of whichI partook during my residence there. It has been seen how little in myyouth I ran after the pleasures of that age, or those that are so called. My inclinations did not change at Venice, but my occupations, whichmoreover would have prevented this, rendered more agreeable to me thesimple recreations I permitted myself. The first and most pleasing ofall was the society of men of merit. M. Le Blond, de St. Cyr, CarrioAltuna, and a Forlinian gentleman, whose name I am very sorry to haveforgotten, and whom I never call to my recollection without emotion: hewas the man of all I ever knew whose heart most resembled my own. Wewere connected with two or three Englishmen of great wit and information, and, like ourselves, passionately fond of music. All these gentlemen hadtheir wives, female friends, or mistresses: the latter were most of themwomen of talents, at whose apartments there were balls and concerts. There was but little play; a lively turn, talents, and the theatresrendered this amusement incipid. Play is the resource of none but menwhose time hangs heavy on their hands. I had brought with me from Paristhe prejudice of that city against Italian music; but I had also receivedfrom nature a sensibility and niceness of distinction which prejudicecannot withstand. I soon contracted that passion for Italian music withwhich it inspires all those who are capable of feeling its excellence. In listening to barcaroles, I found I had not yet known what singing was, and I soon became so fond of the opera that, tired of babbling, eating, and playing in the boxes when I wished to listen, I frequently withdrewfrom the company to another part of the theater. There, quite alone, shut up in my box, I abandoned myself, notwithstanding the length of therepresentation, to the pleasure of enjoying it at ease unto theconclusion. One evening at the theatre of Saint Chrysostom, I fell intoa more profound sleep than I should have done in my bed. The loud andbrilliant airs did not disturb my repose. But who can explain thedelicious sensations given me by the soft harmony of the angelic music, by which I was charmed from sleep; what an awaking! what ravishment!what ecstasy, when at the same instant I opened my ears and eyes! Myfirst idea was to believe I was in paradise. The ravishing air, which Istill recollect and shall never forget, began with these words:

 Conservami la bella, Che si m'accende il cor. 

I was desirous of having it; I had and kept it for a time; but it was notthe same thing upon paper as in my head. The notes were the same but thething was different. This divine composition can never be executed butin my mind, in the same manner as it was the evening on which it woke mefrom sleep. 

A kind of music far superior, in my opinion, to that of operas, and whichin all Italy has not its equal, nor perhaps in the whole world, is thatof the 'scuole'. The 'scuole' are houses of charity, established for theeducation of young girls without fortune, to whom the republic afterwardsgives a portion either in marriage or for the cloister. Amongst talentscultivated in these young girls, music is in the first rank. EverySunday at the church of each of the four 'scuole', during vespers, motettos or anthems with full choruses, accompanied by a great orchestra, and composed and directed by the best masters in Italy, are sung in thegalleries by girls only; not one of whom is more than twenty years ofage. I have not an idea of anything so voluptuous and affecting as thismusic; the richness of the art, the exquisite taste of the vocal part, the excellence of the voices, the justness of the execution, everythingin these delightful concerts concurs to produce an impression whichcertainly is not the mode, but from which I am of opinion no heart issecure. Carrio and I never failed being present at these vespers of the'Mendicanti', and we were not alone. The church was always full of thelovers of the art, and even the actors of the opera came there to formtheir tastes after these excellent models. What vexed me was the irongrate, which suffered nothing to escape but sounds, and concealed from methe angels of which they were worthy. I talked of nothing else. One dayI spoke of it at Le Blond's; "If you are so desirous, " said he, "to seethose little girls, it will be an easy matter to satisfy your wishes. I am one of the administrators of the house, I will give you a collationwith them. " I did not let him rest until he had fulfilled his promise. In entering the saloon, which contained these beauties I so much sighedto see, I felt a trembling of love which I had never before experienced. M. Le Blond presented to me one after the other, these celebrated femalesingers, of whom the names and voices were all with which I wasacquainted. Come, Sophia, --she was horrid. Come, Cattina, --she hadbut one eye. Come, Bettina, --the small-pox had entirely disfigured her. Scarcely one of them was without some striking defect. 

Le Blond laughed at my surprise; however, two or three of them appearedtolerable; these never sung but in the choruses; I was almost in despair. During the collation we endeavored to excite them, and they soon becameenlivened; ugliness does not exclude the graces, and I found theypossessed them. I said to myself, they cannot sing in this mannerwithout intelligence and sensibility, they must have both; in fine, my manner of seeing them changed to such a degree that I left the housealmost in love with each of these ugly faces. I had scarcely courageenough to return to vespers. But after having seen the girls, the danger was lessened. I still found their singing delightful;and their voices so much embellished their persons that, in spite of myeyes, I obstinately continued to think them beautiful. 

Music in Italy is accompanied with so trifling an expense, that it is notworth while for such as have a taste for it to deny themselves thepleasure it affords. I hired a harpsichord, and, for half a crown, I hadat my apartment four or five symphonists, with whom I practised once aweek in executing such airs, etc. , as had given me most pleasure at theopera. I also had some symphonies performed from my 'Muses Galantes'. Whether these pleased the performers, or the ballet-master of St. JohnChrysostom wished to flatter me, he desired to have two of them; and Ihad afterwards the pleasure of hearing these executed by that admirableorchestra. They were danced to by a little Bettina, pretty and amiable, and kept by a Spaniard, M. Fagoaga, a friend of ours with whom we oftenwent to spend the evening. But apropos of girls of easy virtue: it isnot in Venice that a man abstains from them. Have you nothing toconfess, somebody will ask me, upon this subject? Yes: I have somethingto say upon it, and I will proceed to the confession with the sameingenuousness with which I have made my former ones. 

I always had a disinclination to girls of pleasure, but at Venice thosewere all I had within my reach; most of the houses being shut against meon account of my place. The daughters of M. Le Blond were very amiable, but difficult of access; and I had too much respect for the father andmother ever once to have the least desire for them. 

I should have had a much stronger inclination to a young lady namedMademoiselle de Cataneo, daughter to the agent from the King of Prussia, but Carrio was in love with her there was even between them some questionof marriage. He was in easy circumstances, and I had no fortune: hissalary was a hundred louis (guineas) a year, and mine amounted to no morethan a thousand livres (about forty pounds sterling) and, besides mybeing unwilling to oppose a friend, I knew that in all places, andespecially at Venice, with a purse so ill furnished as mine was, gallantry was out of the question. I had not lost the pernicious customof deceiving my wants. Too busily employed forcibly to feel thoseproceeding from the climate, I lived upwards of a year in that city aschastely as I had done in Paris, and at the end of eighteen months Iquitted it without having approached the sex, except twice by means ofthe singular opportunities of which I am going to speak. 

The first was procured me by that honest gentleman, Vitali, some timeafter the formal apology I obliged him to make me. The conversation atthe table turned on the amusements of Venice. These gentlemen reproachedme with my indifference with regard to the most delightful of them all;at the same time extolling the gracefulness and elegant manners of thewomen of easy virtue of Venice; and adding that they were superior to allothers of the same description in any other part of the world. "Dominic, " said I, "(I)must make an acquaintance with the most amiable ofthem all, " he offered to take me to her apartments, and assured me Ishould be pleased with her. I laughed at this obliging offer: and CountPiati, a man in years and venerable, observed to me, with more candorthan I should have expected from an Italian, that he thought me tooprudent to suffer myself to be taken to such a place by my enemy. Infact I had no inclination to do it: but notwithstanding this, by anincoherence I cannot myself comprehend, I at length was prevailed upon togo, contrary to my inclination, the sentiment of my heart, my reason, andeven my will; solely from weakness, and being ashamed to show anappearance to the least mistrust; and besides, as the expression of thecountry is, 'per non parer troppo cogliono'--[Not to appear too great ablockhead. ]--The 'Padoana' whom we went to visit was pretty, she waseven handsome, but her beauty was not of that kind that pleased me. Dominic left me with her, I sent for Sorbetti, and asked her to sing. In about half an hour I wished to take my leave, after having put a ducaton the table, but this by a singular scruple she refused until she haddeserved it, and I from as singular a folly consented to remove herdoubts. I returned to the palace so fully persuaded that I should feelthe consequences of this step, that the first thing I did was to send forthe king's surgeon to ask him for ptisans. Nothing can equal theuneasiness of mind I suffered for three weeks, without its beingjustified by any real inconvenience or apparent sign. I could notbelieve it was possible to withdraw with impunity from the arms of the'padoana'. The surgeon himself had the greatest difficulty in removingmy apprehensions; nor could he do this by any other means than bypersuading me I was formed in such a manner as not to be easily infected:and although in the experiment I exposed myself less than any other manwould have done, my health in that respect never having suffered theleast inconvenience, in my opinion a proof the surgeon was right. However, this has never made me imprudent, and if in fact I have receivedsuch an advantage from nature I can safely assert I have never abused it. 

My second adventure, although likewise with a common girl, was of anature very different, as well in its origin as in its effects; I havealready said that Captain Olivet gave me a dinner on board his vessel, and that I took with me the secretary of the Spanish embassy. I expecteda salute of cannon. 

The ship's company was drawn up to receive us, but not so much as apriming was burnt, at which I was mortified, on account of Carrio, whom Iperceived to be rather piqued at the neglect. A salute of cannon wasgiven on board merchant-ships to people of less consequence than we were;I besides thought I deserved some distinguished mark of respect from thecaptain. I could not conceal my thoughts, because this at all times wasimpossible to me, and although the dinner was a very good one, and Olivetdid the honors of it perfectly well, I began it in an ill humor, eatingbut little, and speaking still less. At the first health, at least, Iexpected a volley; nothing. Carrio, who read what passed within, me, laughed at hearing me grumble like a child. Before dinner was half overI saw a gondola approach the vessel. "Bless me, sir, " said the captain, "take care of yourself, the enemy approaches. " I asked him what hemeant, and he answered jocosely. The gondola made the ship's side, and Iobserved a gay young damsel come on board very lightly, and coquettishlydressed, and who at three steps was in the cabin, seated by my side, before I had time to perceive a cover was laid for her. She was equallycharming and lively, a brunette, not more than twenty years of age. Shespoke nothing but Italian, and her accent alone was sufficient to turn myhead. As she eat and chattered she cast her eyes upon me; steadfastlylooked at me for a moment, and then exclaimed, "Good Virgin! Ah, my dearBremond, what an age it is since I saw thee!" Then she threw herself intomy arms, sealed her lips to mine, and pressed me almost to strangling. Her large black eyes, like those of the beauties of the East, dartedfiery shafts into my heart, and although the surprise at first stupefiedmy senses, voluptuousness made a rapid progress within, and this to sucha degree that the beautiful seducer herself was, notwithstanding thespectators, obliged to restrain my ardor, for I was intoxicated, orrather become furious. When she perceived she had made the impressionshe desired, she became more moderate in her caresses, but not in hervivacity, and when she thought proper to explain to us the real or falsecause of all her petulance, she said I resembled M. De Bremond, directorof the customs of Tuscany, to such a degree as to be mistaken for him;that she had turned this M. De Bremond's head, and would do it again;that she had quitted him because he was a fool; that she took me in hisplace; that she would love me because it pleased her so to do, for whichreason I must love her as long as it was agreeable to her, and when shethought proper to send me about my business, I must be patient as herdear Bremond had been. What was said was done. She took possession ofme as of a man that belonged to her, gave me her gloves to keep, her fan, her cinda, and her coif, and ordered me to go here or there, to do thisor that, and I instantly obeyed her. She told me to go and send away hergondola, because she chose to make use of mine, and I immediately sent itaway; she bid me to move from my place, and pray Carrio to sit down init, because she had something to say to him; and I did as she desired. They chatted a good while together, but spoke low, and I did notinterrupt them. She called me, and I approached her. "Hark thee, Zanetto, " said she to me, "I will not be loved in the French manner; thisindeed will not be well. In the first moment of lassitude, get theegone: but stay not by the way, I caution thee. " After dinner we went tosee the glass manufactory at Murano. She bought a great number of littlecuriosities; for which she left me to pay without the least ceremony. But she everywhere gave away little trinkets to a much greater amountthan of the things we had purchased. By the indifference with which shethrew away her money, I perceived she annexed to it but little value. When she insisted upon a payment, I am of opinion it was more from amotive of vanity than avarice. She was flattered by the price heradmirers set upon her favors. 

In the evening we conducted her to her apartments. As we conversedtogether, I perceived a couple of pistols upon her toilette. "Ah! Ah!"said I, taking one of them up, "this is a patchbox of a new construction:may I ask what is its use? I know you have other arms which give morefire than those upon your table. " After a few pleasantries of the samekind, she said to us, with an ingenuousness which rendered her still morecharming, "When I am complaisant to persons whom I do not love, I makethem pay for the weariness they cause me; nothing can be more just; butif I suffer their caresses, I will not bear their insults; nor miss thefirst who shall be wanting to me in respect. "

At taking leave of her, I made another appointment for the next day. Idid not make her wait. I found her in 'vestito di conidenza', in anundress more than wanton, unknown to northern countries, and which I willnot amuse myself in describing, although I recollect it perfectly well. I shall only remark that her ruffles and collar were edged with silknetwork ornamented with rose--colored pompons. This, in my eyes, muchenlivened a beautiful complexion. I afterwards found it to be the modeat Venice, and the effect is so charming that I am surprised it has neverbeen introduced in France. I had no idea of the transports which awaitedme. I have spoken of Madam de Larnage with the transport which theremembrance of her still sometimes gives me; but how old, ugly and coldshe appeared, compared with my Zulietta! Do not attempt to form toyourself an idea of the charms and graces of this enchanting girl, youwill be far too short of truth. Young virgins in cloisters are not sofresh: the beauties of the seraglio are less animated: the houris ofparadise less engaging. Never was so sweet an enjoyment offered to theheart and senses of a mortal. Ah! had I at least been capable of fullytasting of it for a single moment! I had tasted of it, but without acharm. I enfeebled all its delights: I destroyed them as at will. No;Nature has not made me capable of enjoyment. She has infused into mywretched head the poison of that ineffable happiness, the desire of whichshe first placed in my heart. 

If there be a circumstance in my life, which describes my nature, it isthat which I am going to relate. The forcible manner in which I at thismoment recollect the object of my book, will here make me hold incontempt the false delicacy which would prevent me from fulfilling it. Whoever you may be who are desirous of knowing a man, have the courage toread the two or three following pages, and you will become fullyacquainted with J. J. Rousseau. 

I entered the chamber of a woman of easy virtue, as the sanctuary of loveand beauty: and in her person, I thought I saw the divinity. I shouldhave been inclined to think that without respect and esteem it wasimpossible to feel anything like that which she made me experience. Scarcely had I, in her first familiarities, discovered the force of hercharms and caresses, before I wished, for fear of losing the fruit ofthem, to gather it beforehand. Suddenly, instead of the flame whichconsumed me, I felt a mortal cold run through all my veins; my legsfailed me; and ready to faint away, I sat down and wept like a child. 

Who would guess the cause of my tears, and what, at this moment, passedwithin me? I said to myself: the object in my power is the masterpieceof love; her wit and person equally approach perfection; she is as goodand generous as she is amiable and beautiful. Yet she is a miserableprostitute, abandoned to the public. The captain of a merchantshipdisposed of her at will; she has thrown herself into my arms, althoughshe knows I have nothing; and my merit with which she cannot beacquainted, can be to her no inducement. In this there is somethinginconceivable. Either my heart deceives me, fascinates my senses, andmakes me the dupe of an unworthy slut, or some secret defect, of which Iam ignorant, destroys the effect of her charms, and renders her odious inthe eyes of those by whom her charms would otherwise be disputed. Iendeavored, by an extraordinary effort of mind, to discover this defect, but it did not so much as strike me that even the consequences to beapprehended, might possibly have some influence. The clearness of herskin, the brilliancy of her complexion, her white teeth, sweet breath, and the appearance of neatness about her person, so far removed from methis idea, that, still in doubt relative to my situation after the affairof the 'padoana', I rather apprehended I was not sufficiently in healthfor her: and I am firmly persuaded I was not deceived in my opinion. These reflections, so apropos, agitated me to such a degree as to make meshed tears. Zuliette, to whom the scene was quite novel, was struckspeechless for a moment. But having made a turn in her chamber, andpassing before her glass, she comprehended, and my eyes confirmed heropinion, that disgust had no part in what had happened. It was notdifficult for her to recover me and dispel this shamefacedness. 

But, at the moment in which I was ready to faint upon a bosom, which forthe first time seemed to suffer the impression of the hand and lips of aman, I perceived she had a withered 'teton'. I struck my forehead: Iexamined, and thought I perceived this teton was not formed like theother. I immediately began to consider how it was possible to have sucha defect, and persuaded of its proceeding from some great natural vice, Iwas clearly convinced, that, instead of the most charming person of whomI could form to myself an idea, I had in my arms a species of a monster, the refuse of nature, of men and of love. I carried my stupidity so faras to speak to her of the discovery I had made. She, at first, took whatI said jocosely; and in her frolicsome humor, did and said things whichmade me die of love. But perceiving an inquietude I could not conceal, she at length reddened, adjusted her dress, raised herself up, andwithout saying a word, went and placed herself at a window. I attemptedto place myself by her side: she withdrew to a sofa, rose from it thenext moment, and fanning herself as she walked about the chamber, said tome in a reserved and disdainful tone of voice, "Zanetto, 'lascia ledonne, a studia la matematica. "--[Leave women and study mathematics. ]

Before I took leave I requested her to appoint another rendezvous for thenext day, which she postponed for three days, adding, with a satiricalsmile, that I must needs be in want of repose. I was very ill at easeduring the interval; my heart was full of her charms and graces; I feltmy extravagance, and reproached myself with it, regretting the loss ofthe moments I had so ill employed, and which, had I chosen, I might haverendered more agreeable than any in my whole life; waiting with the mostburning impatience for the moment in which I might repair the loss, andyet, notwithstanding all my reasoning upon what I had discovered, anxiousto reconcile the perfections of this adorable girl with the indignity ofher situation. I ran, I flew to her apartment at the hour appointed. Iknow not whether or not her ardor would have been more satisfied withthis visit, her pride at least would have been flattered by it, and Ialready rejoiced at the idea of my convincing her, in every respect, thatI knew how to repair the wrongs I had done. She spared me thisjustification. The gondolier whom I had sent to her apartment brought mefor answer that she had set off, the evening before, for Florence. If Ihad not felt all the love I had for her person when this was in mypossession, I felt it in the most cruel manner on losing her. Amiableand charming as she was in my eyes, I could not console myself for theloss of her; but this I have never been able to do relative to thecontemptuous idea which at her departure she must have had of me. 

These are my two narratives. The eighteen months I passed at Venicefurnished me with no other of the same kind, except a simple prospect atmost. Carrio was a gallant. Tired of visiting girls engaged to others, he took a fancy to have one to himself, and, as we were inseparable, heproposed to mean arrangement common enough at Venice, which was to keepone girl for us both. To this I consented. The question was, to findone who was safe. He was so industrious in his researches that he foundout a little girl from eleven to twelve years of age, whom her infamousmother was endeavoring to sell, and I went with Carrio to see her. Thesight of the child moved me to the most lively compassion. She was fairand as gentle as a lamb. Nobody would have taken her for an Italian. Living is very cheap in Venice; we gave a little money to the mother, andprovided for the subsistence of her daughter. She had a voice, and toprocure her some resource we gave her a spinnet, and a singing--master. All these expenses did not cost each of us more than two sequins a month, and we contrived to save a much greater sum in other matters; but as wewere obliged to wait until she became of a riper age, this was sowing along time before we could possibly reap. However, satisfied with passingour evenings, chatting and innocently playing with the child, we perhapsenjoyed greater pleasure than if we had received the last favors. Sotrue is it that men are more attached to women by a certain pleasure theyhave in living with them, than by any kind of libertinism. My heartbecame insensibly attached to the little Anzoletta, but my attachment waspaternal, in which the senses had so little share, that in proportion asthe former increased, to have connected it with the latter would havebeen less possible; and I felt I should have experienced, at approachingthis little creature when become nubile, the same horror with which theabominable crime of incest would have inspired me. I perceived thesentiments of Carrio take, unobserved by himself, exactly the same turn. We thus prepared for ourselves, without intending it, pleasure not lessdelicious, but very different from that of which we first had an idea;and I am fully persuaded that however beautiful the poor child might havebecome, far from being the corrupters of her innocence we should havebeen the protectors of it. The circumstance which shortly afterwardsbefell me deprived me, of the happiness of taking a part in this goodwork, and my only merit in the affair was the inclination of my heart. 

I will now return to my journey. 

My first intentions after leaving M. De Montaigu, was to retire toGeneva, until time and more favorable circumstances should have removedthe obstacles which prevented my union with my poor mamma; but thequarrel between me and M. De Montaigu being become public, and he havinghad the folly to write about it to the court, I resolved to go there togive an account of my conduct and complain of that of a madman. Icommunicated my intention, from Venice, to M. Du Theil, charged perinterim with foreign affairs after the death of M. Amelot. I set off assoon as my letter, and took my route through Bergamo, Como, and DomoD'Oscela, and crossing Saint Plomb. At Sion, M. De Chaignon, charge desaffaires from France, showed me great civility; at Geneva M. De laClosure treated me with the same polite attention. I there renewed myacquaintance with M. De Gauffecourt, from whom I had some money toreceive. I had passed through Nion without going to see my father: notthat this was a matter of indifference to me, but because I was unwillingto appear before my mother-in-law, after the disaster which had befallenme, certain of being condemned by her without being heard. Thebookseller, Du Villard, an old friend of my father's, reproached meseverely with this neglect. I gave him my reasons for it, and to repairmy fault, without exposing myself to meet my mother-in-law, I took achaise and we went together to Nion and stopped at a public house. DuVillard went to fetch my father, who came running to embrace me. Wesupped together, and, after passing an evening very agreeable to thewishes of my heart, I returned the next morning to Geneva with DuVillard, for whom I have ever since retained a sentiment of gratitude inreturn for the service he did me on this occasion. 

Lyons was a little out of my direct road, but I was determined to passthrough that city in order to convince myself of a knavish trick playedme by M. De Montaigu. I had sent me from Paris a little box containing awaistcoat, embroidered with gold, a few pairs of ruffles, and six pairsof white silk stockings; nothing more. Upon a proposition made me by M. De Montaigu, I ordered this box to be added to his baggage. In theapothecary's bill he offered me in payment of my salary, and which hewrote out himself, he stated the weight of this box, which he called abale, at eleven hundred pounds, and charged me with the carriage of it atan enormous rate. By the cares of M. Boy de la Tour, to whom I wasrecommended by M. Roquin, his uncle, it was proved from the registers ofthe customs of Lyons and Marseilles, that the said bale weighed no morethan forty-five pounds, and had paid carriage according to that weight. I joined this authentic extract to the memoir of M, de Montaigu, andprovided with these papers and others containing stronger facts, Ireturned to Paris, very impatient to make use of them. During the wholeof this long journey I had little adventures; at Como, in Valais, andelsewhere. I there saw many curious things, amongst others the Boromaislands, which are worthy of being described. But I am pressed by time, and surrounded by spies. I am obliged to write in haste, and veryimperfectly, a work which requires the leisure and tranquility I do notenjoy. If ever providence in its goodness grants me days more calm, Ishall destine them to new modelling this work, should I be able to do it, or at least to giving a supplement, of which I perceive it stands in thegreatest need. --[I have given up this project. ]

The news of my quarrel had reached Paris before me and on my arrival Ifound the people in all the offices, and the public in general, scandalized at the follies of the ambassador. 

Notwithstanding this, the public talk at Venice, and the unanswerableproof I exhibited, I could not obtain even the shadow of justice. Farfrom obtaining satisfaction or reparation, I was left at the discretionof the ambassador for my salary, and this for no other reason thanbecause, not being a Frenchman, I had no right to national protection, and that it was a private affair between him and myself. Everybodyagreed I was insulted, injured, and unfortunate; that the ambassador wasmad, cruel, and iniquitous, and that the whole of the affair dishonoredhim forever. But what of this! He was the ambassador, and I was nothingmore than the secretary. 

Order, or that which is so called, was in opposition to my obtainingjustice, and of this the least shadow was not granted me. I supposedthat, by loudly complaining, and by publicly treating this madman in themanner he deserved, I should at length be told to hold my tongue; thiswas what I wished for, and I was fully determined not to obey until I hadobtained redress. But at that time there was no minister for foreignaffairs. I was suffered to exclaim, nay, even encouraged to do it, andjoined with; but the affair still remained in the same state, until, tired of being in the right without obtaining justice, my courage atlength failed me, and let the whole drop. 

The only person by whom I was ill received, and from whom I should haveleast expected such an injustice, was Madam de Beuzenval. Full of theprerogatives of rank and nobility, she could not conceive it was possiblean ambassador could ever be in the wrong with respect to his secretary. The reception she gave me was conformable to this prejudice. I was sopiqued at it that, immediately after leaving her, I wrote her perhaps oneof the strongest and most violent letters that ever came from my pen, andsince that time I never once returned to her house. I was betterreceived by Father Castel; but, in the midst of his Jesuitical wheedlingI perceived him faithfully to follow one of the great maxims of hissociety, which is to sacrifice the weak to the powerful. The strongconviction I felt of the justice of my cause, and my natural greatness ofmind did not suffer me patiently to endure this partiality. I ceasedvisiting Father Castel, and on that account, going to the college of theJesuits, where I knew nobody but himself. Besides the intriguing andtyrannical spirit of his brethren, so different from the cordiality ofthe good Father Hemet, gave me such a disgust for their conversation thatI have never since been acquainted with, nor seen anyone of them exceptFather Berthier, whom I saw twice or thrice at M. Dupin's, in conjunctionwith whom he labored with all his might at the refutation of Montesquieu. 

That I may not return to the subject, I will conclude what I have to sayof M. De Montaigu. I had told him in our quarrels that a secretary wasnot what he wanted, but an attorney's clerk. He took the hint, and theperson whom he procured to succeed me was a real attorney, who in lessthan a year robbed him of twenty or thirty thousand livres. Hedischarged him, and sent him to prison, dismissed his gentleman withdisgrace, and, in wretchedness, got himself everywhere into quarrels, received affronts which a footman would not have put up with, and, afternumerous follies, was recalled, and sent from the capital. It is veryprobable that among the reprimands he received at court, his affair withme was not forgotten. At least, a little time after his return he senthis maitre d' hotel, to settle my account, and give me some money. I wasin want of it at that moment; my debts at Venice, debts of honor, if everthere were any, lay heavy upon my mind. I made use of the means whichoffered to discharge them, as well as the note of Zanetto Nani. Ireceived what was offered me, paid all my debts, and remained as before, without a farthing in my pocket, but relieved from a weight which hadbecome insupportable. From that time I never heard speak of M. DeMontaigu until his death, with which I became acquainted by means of theGazette. The peace of God be with that poor man! He was as fit for thefunctions of an ambassador as in my infancy I had been for those ofGrapignan. --[I have not been able to find this word in any dictionary, nor does any Frenchman of letters of my acquaintance know what it means. --T. ]--However, it was in his power to have honorably supported himselfby my services, and rapidly to have advanced me in a career to which theComte de Gauvon had destined me in my youth, and of the functions ofwhich I had in a more advanced age rendered myself capable. 

The justice and inutility of my complaints, left in my mind seeds ofindignation against our foolish civil institutions, by which the welfareof the public and real justice are always sacrificed to I know not whatappearance of order, and which does nothing more than add the sanction ofpublic authority to the oppression of the weak, and the iniquity of thepowerful. Two things prevented these seeds from putting forth at thattime as they afterwards did: one was, myself being in question in theaffair, and private interest, whence nothing great or noble everproceeded, could not draw from my heart the divine soarings, which themost pure love, only of that which is just and sublime, can produce. Theother was the charm of friendship which tempered and calmed my wrath bythe ascendancy of a more pleasing sentiment. I had become acquainted atVenice with a Biscayan, a friend of my friend Carrio's, and worthy ofbeing that of every honest man. This amiable young man, born with everytalent and virtue, had just made the tour of Italy to gain a taste forthe fine arts, and, imagining he had nothing more to acquire, intended toreturn by the most direct road to his own country. I told him the artswere nothing more than a relaxation to a genius like his, fit tocultivate the sciences; and to give him a taste for these, I advised himto make a journey to Paris and reside there for six months. He took myadvice, and went to Paris. He was there and expected me when I arrived. His lodging was too considerable for him, and he offered me the half ofit, which I instantly accepted. I found him absorbed in the study of thesublimest sciences. Nothing was above his reach. He digested everythingwith a prodigious rapidity. How cordially did he thank me for havingprocured him this food for his mind, which was tormented by a thirstafter knowledge, without his being aware of it! What a treasure of lightand virtue I found in the vigorous mind of this young man! I felt he wasthe friend I wanted. We soon became intimate. Our tastes were not thesame, and we constantly disputed. Both opinionated, we never could agreeabout anything. Nevertheless we could not separate; and, notwithstandingour reciprocal and incessant contradiction, we neither of us wished theother to be different from what he was. 

Ignacio Emanuel de Altuna was one of those rare beings whom only Spainproduces, and of whom she produces too few for her glory. He had not theviolent national passions common in his own country. The idea ofvengeance could no more enter his head, than the desire of it couldproceed from his heart. His mind was too great to be vindictive, and Ihave frequently heard him say, with the greatest coolness, that no mortalcould offend him. He was gallant, without being tender. He played withwomen as with so many pretty children. He amused himself with themistresses of his friends, but I never knew him to have one of his own, nor the least desire for it. The emanations from the virtue with whichhis heart was stored, never permitted the fire of the passions to excitesensual desires. 

After his travels he married, died young, and left children; and, I am asconvinced as of my existence, that his wife was the first and only womanwith whom he ever tasted of the pleasures of love. 

Externally he was devout, like a Spaniard, but in his heart he had thepiety of an angel. Except myself, he is the only man I ever saw whoseprinciples were not intolerant. He never in his life asked any personhis opinion in matters of religion. It was not of the least consequenceto him whether his friend was a Jew, a Protestant, a Turk, a Bigot, or anAtheist, provided he was an honest man. Obstinate and headstrong inmatters of indifference, but the moment religion was in question, eventhe moral part, he collected himself, was silent, or simply said: "I amcharged with the care of myself, only. " It is astonishing so muchelevation of mind should be compatible with a spirit of detail carried tominuteness. He previously divided the employment of the day by hours, quarters and minutes; and so scrupulously adhered to this distribution, that had the clock struck while he was reading a phrase, he would haveshut his book without finishing it. His portions of time thus laid out, were some of them set apart to studies of one kind, and others to thoseof another: he had some for reflection, conversation, divine service, thereading of Locke, for his rosary, for visits, music and painting; andneither pleasure, temptation, nor complaisance, could interrupt thisorder: a duty he might have had to discharge was the only thing thatcould have done it. When he gave me a list of his distribution, that Imight conform myself thereto, I first laughed, and then shed tears ofadmiration. He never constrained anybody nor suffered constraint: he wasrather rough with people, who from politeness, attempted to put it uponhim. He was passionate without being sullen. I have often seen himwarm, but never saw him really angry with any person. Nothing could bemore cheerful than his temper: he knew how to pass and receive a joke;raillery was one of his distinguished talents, and with which hepossessed that of pointed wit and repartee. When he was animated, he wasnoisy and heard at a great distance; but whilst he loudly inveighed, asmile was spread over his countenance, and in the midst of his warmth heused some diverting expression which made all his hearers break out intoa loud laugh. He had no more of the Spanish complexion than of thephlegm of that country. His skin was white, his cheeks finely colored, and his hair of a light chestnut. He was tall and well made; his bodywas well formed for the residence of his mind. 

This wise--hearted as well as wise--headed man, knew mankind, and was myfriend; this was my only answer to such as are not so. We were sointimately united, that our intention was to pass our days together. Ina few years I was to go to Ascoytia to live with him at his estate; everypart of the project was arranged the eve of his departure; nothing wasleft undetermined, except that which depends not upon men in the bestconcerted plans, posterior events. My disasters, his marriage, andfinally, his death, separated us forever. Some men would be tempted tosay, that nothing succeeds except the dark conspiracies of the wicked, and that the innocent intentions of the good are seldom or neveraccomplished. I had felt the inconvenience of dependence, and took aresolution never again to expose myself to it; having seen the projectsof ambition, which circumstances had induced me to form, overturned intheir birth. Discouraged in the career I had so well begun, from which, however, I had just been expelled, I resolved never more to attach myselfto any person, but to remain in an independent state, turning my talentsto the best advantage: of these I at length began to feel the extent, andthat I had hitherto had too modest an opinion of them. I again took upmy opera, which I had laid aside to go to Venice; and that I might beless interrupted after the departure of Altuna, I returned to my oldhotel St. Quentin; which, in a solitary part of the town, and not farfrom the Luxembourg, was more proper for my purpose than noisy Rue St. Honor. 

There the only consolation which Heaven suffered me to taste in mymisery, and the only one which rendered it supportable, awaited me. Thiswas not a trancient acquaintance; I must enter into some detail relativeto the manner in which it was made. 

We had a new landlady from Orleans; she took for a needlewoman a girlfrom her own country, of between twenty--two and twenty--three years ofage, and who, as well as the hostess, ate at our table. This girl, namedTheresa le Vasseur, was of a good family; her father was an officer inthe mint of Orleans, and her mother a shopkeeper; they had many children. The function of the mint of Orleans being suppressed, the father foundhimself without employment; and the mother having suffered losses, wasreduced to narrow circumstances. She quitted her business and came toParis with her husband and daughter, who, by her industry, maintained allthe three. 

The first time I saw this girl at table, I was struck with her modesty;and still more so with her lively yet charming look, which, with respectto the impression it made upon me, was never equalled. Beside M. DeBonnefond, the company was composed of several Irish priests, Gascons andothers of much the same description. Our hostess herself had not madethe best possible use of her time, and I was the only person at the tablewho spoke and behaved with decency. Allurements were thrown out to theyoung girl. I took her part, and the joke was then turned against me. Had I had no natural inclination to the poor girl, compassion andcontradiction would have produced it in me: I was always a great friendto decency in manners and conversation, especially in the fair sex. Iopenly declared myself her champion, and perceived she was not insensibleof my attention; her looks, animated by the gratitude she dared notexpress by words, were for this reason still more penetrating. 

She was very timid, and I was as much so as herself. The connectionwhich this disposition common to both seemed to remove to a distance, washowever rapidly formed. Our landlady perceiving its progress, becamefurious, and her brutality forwarded my affair with the young girl, who, having no person in the house except myself to give her the leastsupport, was sorry to see me go from home, and sighed for the return ofher protector. The affinity our hearts bore to each other, and thesimilarity of our dispositions, had soon their ordinary effect. Shethought she saw in me an honest man, and in this she was not deceived. I thought I perceived in her a woman of great sensibility, simple in hermanners, and devoid of all coquetry:--I was no more deceived in her thanshe in me. I began by declaring to her that I would never either abandonor marry her. Love, esteem, artless sincerity were the ministers of mytriumph, and it was because her heart was tender and virtuous, that I washappy without being presuming. 

The apprehensions she was under of my not finding in her that for which Isought, retarded my happiness more than every other circumstance. Iperceived her disconcerted and confused before she yielded her consent, wishing to be understood and not daring to explain herself. Far fromsuspecting the real cause of her embarrassment, I falsely imagined it toproceed from another motive, a supposition highly insulting to hermorals, and thinking she gave me to understand my health might be exposedto danger, I fell into so perplexed a state that, although it was norestraint upon me, it poisoned my happiness during several days. As wedid not understand each other, our conversations upon this subject wereso many enigmas more than ridiculous. She was upon the point ofbelieving I was absolutely mad; and I on my part was as near not knowingwhat else to think of her. At last we came to an explanation; sheconfessed to me with tears the only fault of the kind of her whole life, immediately after she became nubile; the fruit of her ignorance and theaddress of her seducer. The moment I comprehended what she meant, I gavea shout of joy. "A Hymen!" exclaimed I; "sought for at Paris, and attwenty years of age! Ah my Theresa! I am happy in possessing thee, virtuous and healthy as thou art, and in not finding that for which Inever sought. "

At first amusement was my only object; I perceived I had gone further andhad given myself a companion. A little intimate connection with thisexcellent girl, and a few reflections upon my situation, made me discoverthat, while thinking of nothing more than my pleasures, I had done agreat deal towards my happiness. In the place of extinguished ambition, a life of sentiment, which had entire possession of my heart, wasnecessary to me. In a word, I wanted a successor to mamma: since I wasnever again to live with her, it was necessary some person should livewith her pupil, and a person, too, in whom I might find that simplicityand docility of mind and heart which she had found in me. It was, moreover, necessary that the happiness of domestic life should indemnifyme for the splendid career I had just renounced. When I was quite alonethere was a void in my heart, which wanted nothing more than anotherheart to fill it up. Fate had deprived me of this, or at least in partalienated me from that for which by nature I was formed. From thatmoment I was alone, for there never was for me the least thingintermediate between everything and nothing. I found in Theresa thesupplement of which I stood in need; by means of her I lived as happilyas I possibly could do, according to the course of events. 

I at first attempted to improve her mind. In this my pains were useless. Her mind is as nature formed it: it was not susceptible of cultivation. I do not blush in acknowledging she never knew how to read well, althoughshe writes tolerably. When I went to lodge in the Rue Neuve des PetitsChamps, opposite to my windows at the Hotel de Ponchartrain, there was asun-dial, on which for a whole month I used all my efforts to teach herto know the hours; yet, she scarcely knows them at present. She nevercould enumerate the twelve months of the year in order, and cannotdistinguish one numeral from another, notwithstanding all the trouble Itook endeavoring to teach them to her. She neither knows how to countmoney, nor to reckon the price of anything. The word which when shespeaks, presents itself to her mind, is frequently opposite to that ofwhich she means to make use. I formerly made a dictionary of herphrases, to amuse M. De Luxembourg, and her 'qui pro quos' often becamecelebrated among those with whom I was most intimate. But this person, so confined in her intellects, and, if the world pleases, so stupid, cangive excellent advice in cases of difficulty. In Switzerland, in Englandand in France, she frequently saw what I had not myself perceived; shehas often given me the best advice I could possibly follow; she hasrescued me from dangers into which I had blindly precipitated myself, andin the presence of princes and the great, her sentiments, good sense, answers, and conduct have acquired her universal esteem, and myself themost sincere congratulations on her merit. With persons whom we love, sentiment fortifies the mind as well as the heart; and they who are thusattached, have little need of searching for ideas elsewhere. 

I lived with my Theresa as agreeably as with the finest genius in theworld. Her mother, proud of having been brought up under the Marchionessof Monpipeau, attempted to be witty, wished to direct the judgment of herdaughter, and by her knavish cunning destroyed the simplicity of ourintercourse. 

The fatigue of this opportunity made me in some degree surmount thefoolish shame which prevented me from appearing with Theresa in public;and we took short country walks, tete-a-tete, and partook of littlecollations, which, to me, were delicious. I perceived she loved mesincerely, and this increased my tenderness. This charming intimacy leftme nothing to wish; futurity no longer gave me the least concern, or atmost appeared only as the present moment prolonged: I had no other desirethan that of insuring its duration. 

This attachment rendered all other dissipation superfluous and insipid tome. As I only went out for the purpose of going to the apartment ofTheresa, her place of residence almost became my own. My retirement wasso favorable to the work I had undertaken, that, in less than threemonths, my opera was entirely finished, both words and music, except afew accompaniments, and fillings up which still remained to be added. This maneuvering business was very fatiguing to me. I proposed it toPhilidor, offering him at the same time a part of the profits. He cametwice, and did something to the middle parts in the act of Ovid; but hecould not confine himself to an assiduous application by the allurementof advantages which were distant and uncertain. He did not come a thirdtime, and I finished the work myself. 

My opera completed, the next thing was to make something of it: this wasby much the more difficult task of the two. A man living in solitude inParis will never succeed in anything. I was on the point of making myway by means of M. De la Popliniere, to whom Gauffecourt, at my return toGeneva had introduced me. M. De la Popliniere was the Mecaenas ofRameau; Madam de la Popliniere his very humble scholar. Rameau was saidto govern in that house. Judging that he would with pleasure protect thework of one of his disciples, I wished to show him what I had done. Herefused to examine it; saying he could not read score, it was toofatiguing to him. M. De la Popliniere, to obviate this difficulty, saidhe might hear it; and offered me to send for musicians to execute certaindetached pieces. I wished for nothing better. Rameau consented with anill grace, incessantly repeating that the composition of a man notregularly bred to the science, and who had learned music without amaster, must certainly be very fine! I hastened to copy into parts fiveor six select passages. Ten symphonies were procured, and Albert, Berard, and Mademoiselle Bourbonois undertook the vocal part. Remeau, the moment he heard the overture, was purposely extravagant in hiseulogium, by which he intended it should be understood it could not be mycomposition. He showed signs of impatience at every passage: but after acounter tenor song, the air of which was noble and harmonious, with abrilliant accompaniment, he could no longer contain himself; heapostrophised me with a brutality at which everybody was shocked, maintaining that a part of what he had heard was by a man experienced inthe art, and the rest by some ignorant person who did not so much asunderstand music. It is true my composition, unequal and without rule, was sometimes sublime, and at others insipid, as that of a person whoforms himself in an art by the soarings of his own genius, unsupported byscience, must necessarily be. Rameau pretended to see nothing in me buta contemptible pilferer, without talents or taste. The rest of thecompany, among whom I must distinguish the master of the house, were of adifferent opinion. M. De Richelieu, who at that time frequently visitedM. And Madam de la Popliniere, heard them speak of my work, and wished tohear the whole of it, with an intention, if it pleased him, to have itperformed at court. The opera was executed with full choruses, and by agreat orchestra, at the expense of the king, at M. De Bonneval'sintendant of the Menus; Francoeur directed the band. The effect wassurprising: the duke never ceased to exclaim and applaud; and, at the endof one of the choruses, in the act of Tasso, he arose and came to me, and, pressing my hand, said: "M. Rousseau, this is transporting harmony. I never heard anything finer. I will get this performed at Versailles. "

Madam de la Poliniere, who was present, said not a word. Rameau, although invited, refused to come. The next day, Madam de la Poplinierereceived me at her toilette very ungraciously, affected to undervalue mypiece, and told me, that although a little false glitter had at firstdazzled M. De Richelieu, he had recovered from his error, and she advisedme not to place the least dependence upon my opera. The duke arrivedsoon after, and spoke to me in quite a different language. He said veryflattering things of my talents, and seemed as much disposed as ever tohave my composition performed before the king. "There is nothing, " saidhe, "but the act of Tasso which cannot pass at court: you must writeanother. " Upon this single word I shut myself up in my apartment; and inthree weeks produced, in the place of Tasso, another act, the subject ofwhich was Hesiod inspired by the muses. In this I found the secret ofintroducing a part of the history of my talents, and of the jealousy withwhich Rameau had been pleased to honor me. There was in the new act anelevation less gigantic and better supported than in the act of Tasso. The music was as noble and the composition better; and had the other twoacts been equal to this, the whole piece would have supported arepresentation to advantage. But whilst I was endeavoring to give it thelast finishing, another undertaking suspended the completion of that Ihad in my hand. In the winter which succeeded the battle of Fontenoi, there were many galas at Versailles, and several operas performed at thetheater of the little stables. Among the number of the latter was thedramatic piece of Voltaire, entitled 'La Princesse de Navarre', the musicby Rameau, the name of which has just been changed to that of 'Fetes deRamire'. This new subject required several changes to be made in thedivertissements, as well in the poetry as in the music. 

A person capable of both was now sought after. Voltaire was in Lorraine, and Rameau also; both of whom were employed on the opera of the Temple ofGlory, and could not give their attention to this. M. De Richelieuthought of me, and sent to desire I would undertake the alterations;and, that I might the better examine what there was to do, he gave meseparately the poem and the music. In the first place, I would not touchthe words without the consent of the author, to whom I wrote upon thesubject a very polite and respectful letter, such a one as was proper;and received from him the following answer:

"SIR: In you two talents, which hitherto have always been separated, areunited. These are two good reasons for me to esteem and to endeavor tolove you. I am sorry, on your account, you should employ these talents ina work which is so little worthy of them. A few months ago the Duke deRichelieu commanded me to make, absolutely in the twinkling of an eye, a little and bad sketch of a few insipid and imperfect scenes to beadapted to divertissements which are not of a nature to be joined withthem. I obeyed with the greatest exactness. I wrote very fast, and veryill. I sent this wretched production to M. De Richelieu, imagining hewould make no use of it, or that I should have it again to make thenecessary corrections. Happily it is in your hands, and you are at fullliberty to do with it whatever you please: I have entirely lost sight ofthe thing. I doubt not but you will have corrected all the faults whichcannot but abound in so hasty a composition of such a very simple sketch, and am persuaded you will have supplied whatever was wanting. 

"I remember that, among other stupid inattentions, no account is given inthe scenes which connect the divertissements of the manner in which theGrenadian prince immediately passes from a prison to a garden or palace. As it is not a magician but a Spanish nobleman who gives her the gala, Iam of opinion nothing should be effected by enchantment. 

"I beg, sir, you will examine this part, of which I have but a confusedidea. 

"You will likewise consider, whether or not it be necessary the prisonshould be opened, and the princess conveyed from it to a fine palace, gilt and varnished, and prepared for her. I know all this is wretched, and that it is beneath a thinking being to make a serious affair of suchtrifles; but, since we must displease as little as possible, it isnecessary we should conform to reason, even in a bad divertissement of anopera. 

"I depend wholly upon you and M. Ballot, and soon expect to have thehonor of returning you my thanks, and assuring you how much I am, etc. "

There is nothing surprising in the great politeness of this letter, compared with the almost crude ones which he has since written to me. He thought I was in great favor with Madam Richelieu; and the courtlysuppleness, which everyone knows to be the character of this author, obliged him to be extremely polite to a new comer, until he become betteracquainted with the measure of the favor and patronage he enjoyed. 

Authorized by M. De Voltaire, and not under the necessity of givingmyself the least concern about M. Rameau, who endeavored to injure me, I set to work, and in two months my undertaking was finished. Withrespect to the poetry, it was confined to a mere trifle; I aimed atnothing more than to prevent the difference of style from beingperceived, and had the vanity to think I had succeeded. The musical partwas longer and more laborious. Besides my having to compose severalpreparatory pieces, and, amongst others, the overture, all therecitative, with which I was charged, was extremely difficult on accountof the necessity there was of connecting, in a few verses, and by veryrapid modulations, symphonies and choruses, in keys very different fromeach other; for I was determined neither to change nor transpose any ofthe airs, that Rameau might not accuse me of having disfigured them. I succeeded in the recitative; it was well accented, full of energy andexcellent modulation. The idea of two men of superior talents, with whomI was associated, had elevated my genius, and I can assert, that in thisbarren and inglorious task, of which the public could have no knowledge, I was for the most part equal to my models. 

The piece, in the state to which I had brought it, was rehearsed in thegreat theatre of the opera. Of the three authors who had contributed tothe production, I was the only one present. Voltaire was not in Paris, and Rameau either did not come, or concealed himself. The words of thefirst monologue were very mournful; they began with:

 O Mort! viens terminer les malheurs de ma vie. 

 [O Death! hasten to terminate the misfortunes of my life. ]

To these, suitable music was necessary. It was, however, upon this thatMadam de la Popliniere founded her censure; accusing me, with muchbitterness, of having composed a funeral anthem. M. De Richelieu veryjudiciously began by informing himself who was the author of the poetryof this monologue; I presented him the manuscript he had sent me, whichproved it was by Voltaire. "In that case, " said the duke, "Voltairealone is to blame. " During the rehearsal, everything I had done wasdisapproved by Madam de la Popliniere, and approved of by M. DeRichelieu; but I had afterwards to do with too powerful an adversary. It was signified to me that several parts of my composition wantedrevising, and that on this it was necessary I should consult M. Rameau;my heart was wounded by such a conclusion, instead of the eulogium Iexpected, and which certainly I merited, and I returned to my apartmentoverwhelmed with grief, exhausted with fatigue, and consumed by chagrin. I was immediately taken ill, and confined to my chamber for upwards ofsix weeks. 

Rameau, who was charged with the alterations indicated by Madam de laPopliniere, sent to ask me for the overture of my great opera, tosubstitute it to that I had just composed. Happily I perceived the trickhe intended to play me, and refused him the overture. As the performancewas to be in five or six days, he had not time to make one, and wasobliged to leave that I had prepared. It was in the Italian taste, andin a style at that time quite new in France. It gave satisfaction, and Ilearned from M. De Valmalette, maitre d'hotel to the king, and son-in-lawto M. Mussard, my relation and friend, that the connoisseurs were highlysatisfied with my work, and that the public had not distinguished it fromthat of Rameau. However, he and Madam de la Popliniere took measures toprevent any person from knowing I had any concern in the matter. In thebooks distributed to the audience, and in which the authors are alwaysnamed, Voltaire was the only person mentioned, and Rameau preferred thesuppression of his own name to seeing it associated with mine. 

As soon as I was in a situation to leave my room, I wished to wait uponM. De Richelieu, but it was too late; he had just set off for Dunkirk, where he was to command the expedition destined to Scotland. At hisreturn, said I to myself, to authorize my idleness, it will be too latefor my purpose, not having seen him since that time. I lost the honor ofmywork and the emoluments it should have produced me, besides consideringmy time, trouble, grief, and vexation, my illness, and the money this costme, without ever receiving the least benefit, or rather, recompense. However, I always thought M. De Richelieu was disposed to serve me, andthat he had a favorable opinion of my talents; but my misfortune, andMadam de la Popliniere, prevented the effect of his good wishes. 

I could not divine the reason of the aversion this lady had to me. I hadalways endeavored to make myself agreeable to her, and regularly paid hermy court. Gauffecourt explained to me the causes of her dislike: "Thefirst, " said he, "is her friendship for Rameau, of whom she is thedeclared panegyrist, and who will not suffer a competitor; the next is anoriginal sin, which ruins you in her estimation, and which she will neverforgive; you are a Genevese. " Upon this he told me the Abbe Hubert, whowas from the same city, and the sincere friend of M. De la Popliniere, had used all his efforts to prevent him from marrying this lady, withwhose character and temper he was very well acquainted; and that afterthe marriage she had vowed him an implacable hatred, as well as all theGenevese. "Although La Popliniere has a friendship for you, do not, "said he, "depend upon his protection: he is still in love with his wife:she hates you, and is vindictive and artful; you will never do anythingin that house. " All this I took for granted. 

The same Gauffecourt rendered me much about this time, a service of whichI stood in the greatest need. I had just lost my virtuous father, whowas about sixty years of age. I felt this loss less severely than Ishould have done at any other time, when the embarrassments of mysituation had less engaged my attention. During his life-time I hadnever claimed what remained of the property of my mother, and of which hereceived the little interest. His death removed all my scruples uponthis subject. But the want of a legal proof of the death of my brothercreated a difficulty which Gauffecourt undertook to remove, and this heeffected by means of the good offices of the advocate De Lolme. As Istood in need of the little resource, and the event being doubtful, Iwaited for a definitive account with the greatest anxiety. 

One evening on entering my apartment I found a letter, which I knew tocontain the information I wanted, and I took it up with an impatienttrembling, of which I was inwardly ashamed. What? said I to myself, with disdain, shall Jean Jacques thus suffer himself to be subdued byinterest and curiosity? I immediately laid the letter again upon thechimney-piece. I undressed myself, went to bed with great composure, slept better than ordinary, and rose in the morning at a late hour, without thinking more of my letter. As I dressed myself, it caught myeye; I broke the seal very leisurely, and found under the envelope a billof exchange. I felt a variety of pleasing sensations at the same time:but I can assert, upon my honor, that the most lively of them all wasthat proceeding from having known how to be master of myself. 

I could mention twenty such circumstances in my life, but I am too muchpressed for time to say everything. I sent a small part of this money tomy poor mamma; regretting, with my eyes suffused with tears, the happytime when I should have laid it all at her feet. All her letterscontained evident marks of her distress. She sent me piles of recipes, and numerous secrets, with which she pretended I might make my fortuneand her own. The idea of her wretchedness already affected her heart andcontracted her mind. The little I sent her fell a prey to the knaves bywhom she was surrounded; she received not the least advantage fromanything. The idea of dividing what was necessary to my own subsistencewith these wretches disgusted me, especially after the vain attempt I hadmade to deliver her from them, and of which I shall have occasion tospeak. Time slipped away, and with it the little money I had; we weretwo, or indeed, four persons; or, to speak still more correctly, seven oreight. Although Theresa was disinterested to a degree of which there arebut few examples, her mother was not so. She was no sooner a littlerelieved from her necessities by my cares, than she sent for her wholefamily to partake of the fruits of them. Her sisters, sons, daughters, all except her eldest daughter, married to the director of the coaches ofAugers, came to Paris. Everything I did for Theresa, her mother divertedfrom its original destination in favor of these people who were starving. I had not to do with an avaricious person; and, not being under theinfluence of an unruly passion, I was not guilty of follies. Satisfiedwith genteelly supporting Theresa without luxury, and unexposed topressing wants, I readily consented to let all the earnings of herindustry go to the profit of her mother; and to this even I did notconfine myself; but, by a fatality by which I was pursued, whilst mammawas a prey to the rascals about her Theresa was the same to her family;and I could not do anything on either side for the benefit of her to whomthe succor I gave was destined. It was odd enough the youngest child ofM. De la Vasseur, the only one who had not received a marriage portionfrom her parents, should provide for their subsistence; and that, afterhaving along time been beaten by her brothers, sisters, and even hernieces, the poor girl should be plundered by them all, without being moreable to defend herself from their thefts than from their blows. One ofher nieces, named Gorton le Duc, was of a mild and amiable character;although spoiled by the lessons and examples of the others. As Ifrequently saw them together, I gave them names, which they afterwardsgave to each other; I called the niece my niece, and the aunt my aunt;they both called me uncle. Hence the name of aunt, by which I continuedto call Theresa, and which my friends sometimes jocosely repeated. Itwill be judged that in such a situation I had not a moment to lose, before I attempted to extricate myself. Imagining M. De Richelieu hadforgotten me, and having no more hopes from the court, I made someattempts to get my opera brought out at Paris; but I met withdifficulties which could not immediately be removed, and my situationbecame daily more painful. I presented my little comedy of Narcisse tothe Italians; it was received, and I had the freedom of the theatre, which gave much pleasure. But this was all; I could never get my pieceperformed, and, tired of paying my court to players, I gave myself nomore trouble about them. At length I had recourse to the last expedientwhich remained to me, and the only one of which I ought to have made use. While frequenting the house of M. De la Popliniere, I had neglected thefamily of Dupin. The two ladies, although related, were not on goodterms, and never saw each other. There was not the least intercoursebetween the two families, and Thieriot was the only person who visitedboth. He was desired to endeavor to bring me again to M. Dupin's. M. DeFrancueil was then studying natural history and chemistry, and collectinga cabinet. I believe he aspired to become a member of the Academy ofSciences; to this effect he intended to write a book, and judged I mightbe of use to him in the undertaking. Madam de Dupin, who, on her part, had another work in contemplation, had much the same views in respect tome. They wished to have me in common as a kind of secretary, and thiswas the reason of the invitations of Thieriot. 

I required that M. De Francueil should previously employ his interestwith that of Jelyote to get my work rehearsed at the operahouse; to thishe consented. The Muses Galantes were several times rehearsed, first atthe Magazine, and afterwards in the great theatre. The audience was verynumerous at the great rehearsal, and several parts of the compositionwere highly applauded. However, during this rehearsal, veryill-conducted by Rebel, I felt the piece would not be received; and that, before it could appear, great alterations were necessary. I thereforewithdrew it without saying a word, or exposing myself to a refusal;but I plainly perceived, by several indications, that the work, had itbeen perfect, could not have succeeded. M. De Francueil had promised meto get it rehearsed, but not that it should be received. He exactly kepthis word. I thought I perceived on this occasion, as well as manyothers, that neither Madam Dupin nor himself were willing I shouldacquire a certain reputation in the world, lest, after the publication oftheir books, it should be supposed they had grafted their talents uponmine. Yet as Madam Dupin always supposed those I had to be verymoderate, and never employed me except it was to write what she dictated, or in researches of pure erudition, the reproach, with respect to her, would have been unjust. 

This last failure of success completed my discouragement. I abandonedevery prospect of fame and advancement; and, without further troubling myhead about real or imaginary talents, with which I had so little success, I dedicated my whole time and cares to procure myself and Theresa asubsistence in the manner most pleasing to those to whom it should beagreeable to provide for it. I therefore entirely attached myself toMadam Dupin and M. De Francueil. This did not place me in a very opulentsituation; for with eight or nine hundred livres, which I had the firsttwo years, I had scarcely enough to provide for my primary wants; beingobliged to live in their neighborhood, a dear part of the town, in afurnished lodging, and having to pay for another lodging at the extremityof Paris, at the very top of the Rue Saint Jacques, to which, let theweather be as it would, I went almost every evening to supper. I soongot into the track of my new occupations, and conceived a taste for them. I attached myself to the study of chemistry, and attended several coursesof it with M. De Francueil at M. Rouelle's, and we began to scribble overpaper upon that science, of which we scarcely possessed the elements. In 1717, we went to pass the autumn in Tourraine, at the castle ofChenonceaux, a royal mansion upon the Cher, built by Henry the II, forDiana of Poitiers, of whom the ciphers are still seen, and which is nowin the possession of M. Dupin, a farmer general. We amused ourselvesvery agreeably in this beautiful place, and lived very well: I became asfat there as a monk. Music was a favorite relaxation. I composedseveral trios full of harmony, and of which I may perhaps speak in mysupplement if ever I should write one. Theatrical performances wereanother resource. I wrote a comedy in fifteen days, entitled'l'Engagement Temeraire', --[The Rash Engagement]--which will be foundamongst my papers; it has no other merit than that of being lively. I composed several other little things: amongst others a poem entitled, 'l'Aliee de Sylvie', from the name of an alley in the park upon the bankof the Cher; and this without discontinuing my chemical studies, orinterrupting what I had to do for Madam Dupin. 

Whilst I was increasing my corpulency at Chenonceaux, that of my poorTheresa was augmented at Paris in another manner, and at my return Ifound the work I had put upon the frame in greater forwardness than I hadexpected. This, on account of my situation, would have thrown me intothe greatest embarrassment, had not one of my messmates furnished me withthe only resource which could relieve me from it. This is one of thoseessential narratives which I cannot give with too much simplicity;because, in making an improper use of their names, I should either excuseor inculpate myself, both of which in this place are entirely out of thequestion. 

During the residence of Altuna at Paris, instead of going to eat at a'Traiteurs', he and I commonly eat in the neighborhood, almost oppositethe cul de sac of the opera, at the house of a Madam la Selle, the wifeof a tailor, who gave but very ordinary dinners, but whose table was muchfrequented on account of the safe company which generally resorted to it;no person was received without being introduced by one of those who usedthe house. The commander, De Graville, an old debauchee, with much witand politeness, but obscene in conversation, lodged at the house, andbrought to it a set of riotous and extravagant young men; officers in theguards and mousquetaires. The Commander de Nonant, chevalier to all thegirls of the opera, was the daily oracle, who conveyed to us the news ofthis motley crew. M. Du Plessis, a lieutenant-colonel, retired from theservice, an old man of great goodness and wisdom; and M. Ancelet, [It was to this M. Ancelet I gave a little comedy, after my own manner entitled 'les Prisouniers de Guerre', which I wrote after the disasters of the French in Bavaria and Bohemia: I dared not either avow this comedy or show it, and this for the singular reason that neither the King of France nor the French were ever better spoken of nor praised with more sincerity of heart than in my piece though written by a professed republican, I dared not declare myself the panegyrist of a nation, whose maxims were exactly the reverse of my own. More grieved at the misfortunes of France than the French themselves I was afraid the public would construe into flattery and mean complaisance the marks of a sincere attachment, of which in my first part I have mentioned the date and the cause, and which I was ashamed to show. ]

an officer in the mousquetaires kept the young people in a certain kindof order. This table was also frequented by commercial people, financiers and contractors, but extremely polite, and such as weredistinguished amongst those of the same profession. M. De Besse, M. DeForcade, and others whose names I have forgotten, in short, well-dressedpeople of every description were seen there; except abbes and men of thelong robe, not one of whom I ever met in the house, and it was agreed notto introduce men of either of these professions. This table, sufficiently resorted to, was very cheerful without being noisy, and manyof the guests were waggish, without descending to vulgarity. The oldcommander with all his smutty stories, with respect to the substance, never lost sight of the politeness of the old court; nor did any indecentexpression, which even women would not have pardoned him, escape hislips. His manner served as a rule to every person at table; all theyoung men related their adventures of gallantry with equal grace andfreedom, and these narratives were the more complete, as the seraglio wasat the door; the entry which led to it was the same; for there was acommunication between this and the shop of Le Duchapt, a celebratedmilliner, who at that time had several very pretty girls, with whom ouryoung people went to chat before or after dinner. I should thus haveamused myself as well as the rest, had I been less modest: I had only togo in as they did, but this I never had courage enough to do. Withrespect to Madam de Selle, I often went to eat at her house after thedeparture of Altuna. I learned a great number of amusing anecdotes, andby degrees I adopted, thank God, not the morals, but the maxims I foundto be established there. Honest men injured, husbands deceived, womenseduced, were the most ordinary topics, and he who had best filled thefoundling hospital was always the most applauded. I caught the mannersI daily had before my eyes: I formed my manner of thinking upon that Iobserved to be the reigning one amongst amiable: and upon the whole, veryhonest people. I said to myself, since it is the custom of the country, they who live here may adopt it; this is the expedient for which Isought. I cheerfully determined upon it without the least scruple, andthe only one I had to overcome was that of Theresa, whom, with thegreatest imaginable difficulty, I persuaded to adopt this only means ofsaving her honor. Her mother, who was moreover apprehensive of a newembarrassment by an increase of family, came to my aid, and she at lengthsuffered herself to be prevailed upon. We made choice of a midwife, asafe and prudent woman, Mademoiselle Gouin, who lived at the Point SaintEustache, and when the time came, Theresa was conducted to her house byher mother. 

I went thither several times to see her, and gave her a cipher which Ihad made double upon two cards; one of them was put into the linen of thechild, and by the midwife deposited with the infant in the office of thefoundling hospital according to the customary form. The year following, a similar inconvenience was remedied by the same expedient, excepting thecipher, which was forgotten: no more reflection on my part, norapprobation on that of the mother; she obeyed with trembling. All thevicissitudes which this fatal conduct has produced in my manner ofthinking, as well as in my destiny, will be successively seen. For thepresent, we will confine ourselves to this first period; its cruel andunforeseen consequences will but too frequently oblige me to refer to it. 

I here mark that of my first acquaintance with Madam D'Epinay, whose namewill frequently appear in these memoirs. She was a Mademoiselle D'Esclavelles, and had lately been married to M. D'Epinay, son of M. DeLalive de Bellegarde, a farmer general. She understood music, and apassion for the art produced between these three persons the greatestintimacy. Madam Prancueil introduced me to Madam D'Epinay, and wesometimes supped together at her house. She was amiable, had wit andtalent, and was certainly a desirable acquaintance; but she had a femalefriend, a Mademoiselle d'Ette, who was said to have much malignancy inher disposition; she lived with the Chevalier de Valory, whose temper wasfar from being one of the best. I am of opinion, an acquaintance withthese two persons was prejudicial to Madam D'Epinay, to whom, with adisposition which required the greatest attention from those about her, nature had given very excellent qualities to regulate or counterbalanceher extravagant pretensions. M. De Francueil inspired her with a part ofthe friendship he had conceived for me, and told me of the connectionbetween them, of which, for that reason, I would not now speak, were itnot become so public as not to be concealed from M. D'Epinay himself. 

M. De Francueil confided to me secrets of a very singular nature relativeto this lady, of which she herself never spoke to me, nor so much assuspected my having a knowledge; for I never opened my lips to her uponthe subject, nor will I ever do it to any person. The confidence allparties had in my prudence rendered my situation very embarrassing, especially with Madam de Francueil, whose knowledge of me was sufficientto remove from her all suspicion on my account, although I was connectedwith her rival. I did everything I could to console this poor woman, whose husband certainly did not return the affection she had for him. I listened to these three persons separately; I kept all their secrets sofaithfully that not one of the three ever drew from me those of the twoothers, and this, without concealing from either of the women myattachment to each of them. Madam de Francueil, who frequently wished tomake me an agent, received refusals in form, and Madam D'Epinay, oncedesiring me to charge myself with a letter to M. De Francueil receivedthe same mortification, accompanied by a very express declaration, thatif ever she wished to drive me forever from the house, she had only asecond time to make me a like proposition. 

In justice to Madam D'Epinay, I must say, that far from being offendedwith me she spoke of my conduct to M. De Francueil in terms of thehighest approbation, and continued to receive me as well, and as politelyas ever. It was thus, amidst the heart-burnings of three persons to whomI was obliged to behave with the greatest circumspection, on whom I insome measure depended, and for whom I had conceived an attachment, thatby conducting myself with mildness and complaisance, although accompaniedwith the greatest firmness, I preserved unto the last not only theirfriendship, but their esteem and confidence. Notwithstanding myabsurdities and awkwardness, Madam D'Epinay would have me make one of theparty to the Chevrette, a country-house, near Saint Denis, belonging toM. De Bellegarde. There was a theatre, in which performances were notunfrequent. I had a part given me, which I studied for six monthswithout intermission, and in which, on the evening of the representation, I was obliged to be prompted from the beginning to the end. After thisexperiment no second proposal of the kind was ever made to me. 

My acquaintance with M. D'Epinay procured me that of her sister-in-law, Mademoiselle de Bellegarde, who soon afterwards became Countess ofHoudetot. The first time I saw her she was upon the point of marriage;when she conversed with me a long time, with that charming familiaritywhich was natural to her. I thought her very amiable, but I was far fromperceiving that this young person would lead me, although innocently, into the abyss in which I still remain. 

Although I have not spoken of Diderot since my return from Venice, nomore than of my friend M. Roguin, I did not neglect either of them, especially the former, with whom I daily became more intimate. He had aNannette, as well as I a Theresa; this was between us another conformityof circumstances. But my Theresa, as fine a woman as his Nannette, wasof a mild and amiable character, which might gain and fix the affectionsof a worthy man; whereas Nannette was a vixen, a troublesome prater, andhad no qualities in the eyes of others which in any measure compensatedfor her want of education. However he married her, which was well doneof him, if he had given a promise to that effect. I, for my part, nothaving entered into any such engagement, was not in the least haste toimitate him. 

I was also connected with the Abbe de Condillac, who had acquired no moreliterary fame than myself, but in whom there was every appearance of hisbecoming what he now is. I was perhaps the first who discovered theextent of his abilities, and esteemed them as they deserved. He on hispart seemed satisfied with me, and, whilst shut up in my chamber in theRue Jean Saint Denis, near the opera-house, I composed my act of Hesiod, he sometimes came to dine with me tete-a-tete. We sent for our dinner, and paid share and share alike. He was at that time employed on hisEssay on the Origin of Human Knowledge, which was his first work. Whenthis was finished, the difficulty was to find a bookseller who would takeit. The booksellers of Paris are shy of every author at his beginning, and metaphysics, not much then in vogue, were no very inviting subject. I spoke to Diderot of Condillac and his work, and I afterwards broughtthem acquainted with each other. They were worthy of each other'sesteem, and were presently on the most friendly terms. Diderot persuadedthe bookseller, Durand, to take the manuscript from the abbe, and thisgreat metaphysician received for his first work, and almost as a favor, a hundred crowns, which perhaps he would not have obtained without myassistance. As we lived in a quarter of the town very distant from eachother, we all assembled once a week at the Palais Royal, and went to dineat the Hotel du Panier Fleuri. These little weekly dinners must havebeen extremely pleasing to Diderot; for he who failed in almost all hisappointments never missed one of these. At our little meeting I formedthe plan of a periodical paper, entitled 'le Persifleur'--[The Jeerer]--which Diderot and I were alternately to write. I sketched out the firstsheet, and this brought me acquainted with D'Alembert, to whom Diderothad mentioned it. Unforeseen events frustrated our intention, and theproject was carried no further. 

These two authors had just undertaken the 'Dictionnaire Encyclopedique', which at first was intended to be nothing more than a kind of translationof Chambers, something like that of the Medical Dictionary of James, which Diderot had just finished. Diderot was desirous I should dosomething in this second undertaking, and proposed to me the musicalpart, which I accepted. This I executed in great haste, and consequentlyvery ill, in the three months he had given me, as well as all the authorswho were engaged in the work. But I was the only person in readiness atthe time prescribed. I gave him my manuscript, which I had copied by alaquais, belonging to M. De Francueil of the name of Dupont, who wrotevery well. I paid him ten crowns out of my own pocket, and these havenever been reimbursed me. Diderot had promised me a retribution on thepart of the booksellers, of which he has never since spoken to me nor Ito him. 

This undertaking of the 'Encyclopedie' was interrupted by hisimprisonment. The 'Pensees Philosophiquiest' drew upon him sometemporary inconvenience which had no disagreeable consequences. He didnot come off so easily on account of the 'Lettre sur les Aveugles', --[Letter concerning blind persons. ]--in which there was nothingreprehensible, but some personal attacks with which Madam du Pre St. Maur, and M. De Raumur were displeased: for this he was confined in thedungeon of Vincennes. Nothing can describe the anguish I felt on accountof the misfortunes of my friend. My wretched imagination, which alwayssees everything in the worst light, was terrified. I imagined him to beconfined for the remainder of his life. I was almost distracted with thethought. I wrote to Madam de Pompadour, beseeching her to release him orobtain an order to shut me up in the same dungeon. I received no answerto my letter: this was too reasonable to be efficacious, and I do notflatter myself that it contributed to the alleviation which, some timeafterwards, was granted to the severities of the confinement of poorDiderot. Had this continued for any length of time with the same rigor, I verily believe I should have died in despair at the foot of the hateddungeon. However, if my letter produced but little effect, I did not onaccount of it attribute to myself much merit, for I mentioned it but tovery few people, and never to Diderot himself.