was that of removing from Paris, where the affluence of my visitors
rendered my housekeeping expensive, and deprived me of the time I should
have turned to advantage to provide for it; to prevent in my retirement
the state of lassitude into which an author is said to fall when he has
laid down his pen, I reserved to myself an occupation which might fill
up the void in my solitude without tempting me to print anything more. I
know not for what reason they had long tormented me to write the memoirs
of my life. Although these were not until that time interesting as to
the facts, I felt they might become so by the candor with which I was
capable of giving them, and I determined to make of these the only work
of the kind, by an unexampled veracity, that, for once at least, the
world might see a man such as he internally was. I had always laughed
at the false ingenuousness of Montaigne, who, feigning to confess his
faults, takes great care not to give himself any, except such as are
amiable; whilst I, who have ever thought, and still think myself,
considering everything, the best of men, felt there is no human being,
however pure he may be, who does not internally conceal some odious
vice. I knew I was described to the public very different from what
I really was, and so opposite, that notwithstanding my faults, all of
which I was determined to relate, I could not but be a gainer by showing
myself in my proper colors. This, besides, not being to be done without
setting forth others also in theirs and the work for the same reason
not being of a nature to appear during my lifetime, and that of several
other persons, I was the more encouraged to make my confession, at which
I should never have to blush before any person. I therefore resolved
to dedicate my leisure to the execution of this undertaking, and
immediately began to collect such letters and papers as might guide
or assist my memory, greatly regretting the loss of all I had burned,
mislaid and destroyed.
The project of absolute retirement, one of the most reasonable I had
ever formed, was strongly impressed upon my mind, and for the execution
of it I was already taking measures, when Heaven, which prepared me a
different destiny, plunged me into a another vortex.
Montmorency, the ancient and fine patrimony of the illustrious family of
that name, was taken from it by confiscation. It passed by the sister
of Duke Henry, to the house of Conde, which has changed the name of
Montmorency to that of Enguien, and the duchy has no other castle than
an old tower, where the archives are kept, and to which the vassals come
to do homage. But at Montmorency, or Enguien, there is a private house,
built by Crosat, called 'le pauvre', which having the magnificence of
the most superb chateaux, deserves and bears the name of a castle.
The majestic appearance of this noble edifice, the view from it, not
equalled perhaps in any country; the spacious saloon, painted by the
hand of a master; the garden, planted by the celebrated Le Notre; all
combined to form a whole strikingly majestic, in which there is still a
simplicity that enforces admiration. The Marechal Duke de Luxembourg who
then inhabited this house, came every year into the neighborhood where
formerly his ancestors were the masters, to pass, at least, five or
six weeks as a private inhabitant, but with a splendor which did not
degenerate from the ancient lustre of his family. On the first journey
he made to it after my residing at Montmorency, he and his lady sent to
me a valet de chambre, with their compliments, inviting me to sup with
them as often as it should be agreeable to me; and at each time of
their coming they never failed to reiterate the same compliments and
invitation. This called to my recollection Madam Beuzenval sending me to
dine in the servants' hall. Times were changed; but I was still the same
man. I did not choose to be sent to dine in the servants' hall, and was
but little desirous of appearing at the table of the great; I should
have been much better pleased had they left me as I was, without
caressing me and rendering me ridiculous. I answered politely and
respectfully to Monsieur and Madam de Luxembourg, but I did not accept
their offers, and my indisposition and timidity, with my embarrassment
in speaking; making me tremble at the idea alone of appearing in an
assembly of people of the court. I did not even go to the castle to pay
a visit of thanks, although I sufficiently comprehended this was all
they desired, and that their eager politeness was rather a matter of
curiosity than benevolence.
However, advances still were made, and even became more pressing.
The Countess de Boufflers, who was very intimate with the lady of the
marechal, sent to inquire after my health, and to beg I would go and see
her. I returned her a proper answer, but did not stir from my house.
At the journey of Easter, the year following, 1759, the Chevalier de
Lorenzy, who belonged to the court of the Prince of Conti, and was
intimate with Madam de Luxembourg, came several times to see me, and we
became acquainted; he pressed me to go to the castle, but I refused to
comply. At length, one afternoon, when I least expected anything of the
kind, I saw coming up to the house the Marechal de Luxembourg, followed
by five or six persons. There was now no longer any means of defence;
and I could not, without being arrogant and unmannerly, do otherwise
than return this visit, and make my court to Madam la Marechale, from
whom the marechal had been the bearer of the most obliging compliments
to me. Thus, under unfortunate auspices, began the connections from
which I could no longer preserve myself, although a too well-founded
foresight made me afraid of them until they were made.
I was excessively afraid of Madam de Luxembourg. I knew she was amiable
as to manner. I had seen her several times at the theatre, when she was
Duchess of Boufflers, and in the bloom of her beauty; but she was said
to be malignant; and this in a woman of her rank made me tremble. I had
scarcely seen her before I was subjugated. I thought her charming, with
that charm proof against time and which had the most powerful action
upon my heart. I expected to find her conversation satirical and full
of pleasantries and points. It was not so; it was much better. The
conversation of Madam de Luxembourg is not remarkably full of wit; it
has no sallies, nor even finesse; it is exquisitely delicate, never
striking, but always pleasing. Her flattery is the more intoxicating as
it is natural; it seems to escape her involuntarily, and her heart to
overflow because it is too full. I thought I perceived, on my
first visit, that notwithstanding my awkward manner and embarrassed
expression, I was not displeasing to her. All the women of the court
know how to persuade us of this when they please, whether it be true or
not, but they do not all, like Madam de Luxembourg, possess the art of
rendering that persuasion so agreeable that we are no longer disposed
ever to have a doubt remaining. From the first day my confidence in
her would have been as full as it soon afterwards became, had not the
Duchess of Montmorency, her daughter-in-law, young, giddy, and malicious
also, taken it into her head to attack me, and in the midst of the
eulogiums of her mamma, and feigned allurements on her own account, made
me suspect I was only considered by them as a subject of ridicule.
It would perhaps have been difficult to relieve me from this fear with
these two ladies had not the extreme goodness of the marechal confirmed
me in the belief that theirs was not real. Nothing is more surprising,
considering my timidity, than the promptitude with which I took him at
his word on the footing of equality to which he would absolutely reduce
himself with me, except it be that with which he took me at mine with
respect to the absolute independence in which I was determined to live.
Both persuaded I had reason to be content with my situation, and that I
was unwilling to change it, neither he nor Madam de Luxembourg seemed to
think a moment of my purse or fortune; although I can have no doubt of
the tender concern they had for me, they never proposed to me a place
nor offered me their interest, except it were once, when Madam de
Luxembourg seemed to wish me to become a member of the French Academy. I
alleged my religion; this she told me was no obstacle, or if it was one
she engaged to remove it. I answered, that however great the honor of
becoming a member of so illustrious a body might be, having refused M.
de Tressan, and, in some measure, the King of Poland, to become a member
of the Academy at Nancy, I could not with propriety enter into any
other. Madam de Luxembourg did not insist, and nothing more was said
upon the subject. This simplicity of intercourse with persons of
such rank, and who had the power of doing anything in my favor, M. de
Luxembourg being, and highly deserving to be, the particular friend of
the king, affords a singular contrast with the continual cares, equally
importunate and officious, of the friends and protectors from whom I had
just separated, and who endeavored less to serve me than to render me
contemptible.
When the marechal came to see me at Mont Louis, I was uneasy at
receiving him and his retinue in my only chamber; not because I was
obliged to make them all sit down in the midst of my dirty plates and
broken pots, but on account of the state of the floor, which was rotten
and falling to ruin, and I was afraid the weight of his attendants would
entirely sink it. Less concerned on account of my own danger than for
that to which the affability of the marechal exposed him, I hastened to
remove him from it by conducting him, notwithstanding the coldness of
the weather, to my alcove, which was quite open to the air, and had no
chimney. When he was there I told him my reason for having brought him
to it; he told it to his lady, and they both pressed me to accept, until
the floor was repaired, a lodging of the castle; or, if I preferred it,
in a separate edifice called the Little Castle which was in the middle
of the park. This delightful abode deserves to be spoken of.
The park or garden of Montmorency is not a plain, like that of the
Chevrette. It is uneven, mountainous, raised by little hills and
valleys, of which the able artist has taken advantage; and thereby
varied his groves, ornaments, waters, and points of view, and, if I may
so speak, multiplied by art and genius a space in itself rather narrow.
This park is terminated at the top by a terrace and the castle; at
bottom it forms a narrow passage which opens and becomes wider towards
the valley, the angle of which is filled up with a large piece of water.
Between the orangery, which is in this widening, and the piece of water,
the banks of which are agreeably decorated, stands the Little Castle
of which I have spoken. This edifice, and the ground about it, formerly
belonged to the celebrated Le Brun, who amused himself in building and
decorating it in the exquisite taste of architectual ornaments which
that great painter had formed to himself. The castle has since been
rebuilt, but still, according to the plan and design of its first
master. It is little and simple, but elegant. As it stands in a hollow
between the orangery and the large piece of water, and consequently is
liable to be damp, it is open in the middle by a peristyle between two
rows of columns, by which means the air circulating throughout the whole
edifice keeps it dry, notwithstanding its unfavorable situation. When
the building is seen from the opposite elevation, which is a point of
view, it appears absolutely surrounded with water, and we imagine we
have before our eyes an enchanted island, or the most beautiful of the
three Boromeans, called Isola Bella, in the greater lake.
In this solitary edifice I was offered the choice of four complete
apartments it contains, besides the ground floor, consisting of a
dancing room, billiard room and a kitchen. I chose the smallest over the
kitchen, which also I had with it. It was charmingly neat, with blue and
white furniture. In this profound and delicious solitude, in the midst
of the woods, the singing of birds of every kind, and the perfume of
orange flowers, I composed, in a continual ecstasy, the fifth book of
Emilius, the coloring of which I owe in a great measure to the lively
impression I received from the place I inhabited.
With what eagerness did I run every morning at sunrise to respire
the perfumed air in the peristyle! What excellent coffee I took there
tete-a-tete with my Theresa. My cat and dog were our company. This
retinue alone would have been sufficient for me during my whole life,
in which I should not have had one weary moment. I was there in a
terrestrial paradise; I lived in innocence and tasted of happiness.
At the journey of July, M. and Madam de Luxembourg showed me so much
attention, and were so extremely kind, that, lodged in their house, and
overwhelmed with their goodness, I could not do less than make them
a proper return in assiduous respect near their persons; I scarcely
quitted them; I went in the morning to pay my court to Madam la
Marechale; after dinner I walked with the marechal; but did not sup at
the castle on account of the numerous guests, and because they supped
too late for me. Thus far everything was as it should be, and no harm
would have been done could I have remained at this point. But I have
never known how to preserve a medium in my attachments, and simply
fulfil the duties of society. I have ever been everything or nothing.
I was soon everything; and receiving the most polite attention from
persons of the highest rank, I passed the proper bounds, and conceived
for them a friendship not permitted except among equals. Of these I had
all the familiarity in my manners, whilst they still preserved in theirs
the same politeness to which they had accustomed me. Yet I was never
quite at my ease with Madam de Luxembourg. Although I was not quite
relieved from my fears relative to her character, I apprehended less
danger from it than from her wit. It was by this especially that she
impressed me with awe. I knew she was difficult as to conversation, and
she had a right to be so. I knew women, especially those of her rank,
would absolutely be amused, that it was better to offend than to weary
them, and I judged by her commentaries upon what the people who went
away had said what she must think of my blunders. I thought of an
expedient to spare me with her the embarrassment of speaking; this was
reading. She had heard of my Eloisa, and knew it was in the press; she
expressed a desire to see the work; I offered to read it to her, and
she accepted my offer. I went to her every morning at ten o'clock; M. de
Luxembourg was present, and the door was shut. I read by the side of
her bed, and so well proportioned my readings that there would have been
sufficient for the whole time she had to stay, had they even not been
interrupted.
[The loss of a great battle, which much afflicted the King,
obliged M. de Luxembourg precipitately to return to court.]
The success of this expedient surpassed my expectation. Madam de
Luxembourg took a great liking to Julia and the author; she spoke of
nothing but me, thought of nothing else, said civil things to me from
morning till night, and embraced me ten times a day. She insisted on me
always having my place by her side at table, and when any great lords
wished it she told them it was mine, and made them sit down somewhere
else. The impression these charming manners made upon me, who was
subjugated by the least mark of affection, may easily be judged of. I
became really attached to her in proportion to the attachment she showed
me. All my fear in perceiving this infatuation, and feeling the want of
agreeableness in myself to support it, was that it would be changed into
disgust; and unfortunately this fear was but too well founded.
There must have been a natural opposition between her turn of mind and
mine, since, independently of the numerous stupid things which at every
instant escaped me in conversation, and even in my letters, and when I
was upon the best terms with her, there were certain other things with
which she was displeased without my being able to imagine the reason.
I will quote one instance from among twenty. She knew I was writing for
Madam d'Houdetot a copy of the New Eloisa. She was desirous to have one
on the same footing. This I promised her, and thereby making her one
of my customers, I wrote her a polite letter upon the subject, at least
such was my intention. Her answer, which was as follows, stupefied me
with surprise.
VERSAILLES, Tuesday.
"I am ravished, I am satisfied: your letter has given me infinite
pleasure, and I take the earliest moment to acquaint you with, and thank
you for it.
"These are the exact words of your letter: 'Although you are certainly a
very good customer, I have some pain in receiving your money: according
to regular order I ought to pay for the pleasure I should have in
working for you.' I will say nothing more on the subject. I have to
complain of your not speaking of your state of health: nothing interests
me more. I love you with all my heart: and be assured that I write this
to you in a very melancholy mood, for I should have much pleasure in
telling it to you myself. M. de Luxembourg loves and embraces you with
all his heart.
"On receiving the letter I hastened to answer it, reserving to myself
more fully to examine the matter, protesting against all disobliging
interpretation, and after having given several days to this examination
with an inquietude which may easily be conceived, and still without
being able to discover in what I could have erred, what follows was my
final answer on the subject.
"MONTMORENCY, 8th December, 1759.
"Since my last letter I have examined a hundred times the passage in
question. I have considered it in its proper and natural meaning, as
well as in every other which may be given to it, and I confess to you,
madam, that I know not whether it be I who owe to you excuses, or you
from whom they are due to me."
It is now ten years since these letters were written. I have since that
time frequently thought of the subject of them; and such is still my
stupidity that I have hitherto been unable to discover what in the
passages, quoted from my letter, she could find offensive, or even
displeasing.
I must here mention, relative to the manuscript copy of Eloisa Madam
de Luxembourg wished to have, in what manner I thought to give it some
marked advantage which should distinguish it from all others. I had
written separately the adventures of Lord Edward, and had long been
undetermined whether I should insert them wholly, or in extracts, in
the work in which they seemed to be wanting. I at length determined to
retrench them entirely, because, not being in the manner of the rest,
they would have spoiled the interesting simplicity, which was its
principal merit. I had still a stronger reason when I came to know Madam
de Luxembourg: There was in these adventures a Roman marchioness, of a
bad character, some parts of which, without being applicable, might have
been applied to her by those to whom she was not particularly known.
I was therefore, highly pleased with the determination to which I had
come, and resolved to abide by it. But in the ardent desire to enrich
her copy with something which was not in the other, what should I fall
upon but these unfortunate adventures, and I concluded on making an
extract from them to add to the work; a project dictated by madness,
of which the extravagance is inexplicable, except by the blind fatality
which led me on to destruction.
'Quos vult perdere Jupiter dementet.'
I was stupid enough to make this extract with the greatest care and
pains, and to send it her as the finest thing in the world; it is true,
I at the same time informed her the original was burned, which was
really the case, that the extract was for her alone, and would never be
seen, except by herself, unless she chose to show it; which, far from
proving to her my prudence and discretion, as it was my intention to do,
clearly intimated what I thought of the application by which she might
be offended. My stupidity was such, that I had no doubt of her being
delighted with what I had done. She did not make me the compliment upon
it which I expected, and, to my great surprise, never once mentioned the
paper I had sent her. I was so satisfied with myself, that it was not
until a long time afterwards, I judged, from other indications, of the
effect it had produced.
I had still, in favor of her manuscript, another idea more reasonable,
but which, by more distant effects, has not been much less prejudicial
to me; so much does everything concur with the work of destiny, when
that hurries on a man to misfortune. I thought of ornamenting the
manuscript with the engravings of the New Eloisa, which were of the
same size. I asked Coindet for these engravings, which belonged to me by
every kind of title, and the more so as I had given him the produce of
the plates, which had a considerable sale. Coindet is as cunning as I am
the contrary. By frequently asking him for the engravings he came to the
knowledge of the use I intended to make of them. He then, under pretence
of adding some new ornament, still kept them from me; and at length
presented them himself.
'Ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores.'
This gave him an introduction upon a certain footing to the Hotel de
Luxembourg. After my establishment at the little castle he came rather
frequently to see me, and always in the morning, especially when M. and
Madam de Luxembourg were at Montmorency. Therefore that I might pass
the day with him, I did not go the castle. Reproaches were made me on
account of my absence; I told the reason of them. I was desired to
bring with me M. Coindet; I did so. This was, what he had sought after.
Therefore, thanks to the excessive goodness M. and Madam de Luxembourg
had for me, a clerk to M. Thelusson, who was sometimes pleased to give
him his table when he had nobody else to dine with him, was suddenly
placed at that of a marechal of France, with princes, duchesses, and
persons of the highest rank at court. I shall never forget, that one day
being obliged to return early to Paris, the marechal said, after dinner,
to the company, "Let us take a walk upon the road to St. Denis, and we
will accompany M. Coindet." This was too much for the poor man; his head
was quite turned. For my part, my heart was so affected that I could not
say a word. I followed the company, weeping like a child, and having
the strongest desire to kiss the foot of the good marechal; but the
continuation of the history of the manuscript has made me anticipate. I
will go a little back, and, as far as my memory will permit, mark each
event in its proper order.
As soon as the little house of Mont Louis was ready, I had it neatly
furnished and again established myself there. I could not break through
the resolution I had made on quitting the Hermitage of always having my
apartment to myself; but I found a difficulty in resolving to quit
the little castle. I kept the key of it, and being delighted with the
charming breakfasts of the peristyle, frequently went to the castle to
sleep, and stayed three or four days as at a country-house. I was at
that time perhaps better and more agreeably lodged than any private
individual in Europe. My host, M. Mathas, one of the best men in the
world, had left me the absolute direction of the repairs at Mont Louis,
and insisted upon my disposing of his workmen without his interference.
I therefore found the means of making of a single chamber upon the
first story, a complete set of apartments consisting of a chamber,
antechamber, and a water closet. Upon the ground-floor was the kitchen
and the chamber of Theresa. The alcove served me for a closet by means
of a glazed partition and a chimney I had made there. After my return
to this habitation, I amused myself in decorating the terrace, which was
already shaded by two rows of linden trees; I added two others to make
a cabinet of verdure, and placed in it a table and stone benches: I
surrounded it with lilies, syringa and woodbines, and had a beautiful
border of flowers parallel with the two rows of trees. This terrace,
more elevated than that of the castle, from which the view was at
least as fine, and where I had tamed a great number of birds, was my
drawing-room, in which I received M. and Madam de Luxembourg, the Duke
of Villeroy, the Prince of Tingry, the Marquis of Armentieres, the
Duchess of Montmorency, the Duchess of Bouffiers, the Countess of
Valentinois, the Countess of Boufflers, and other persons of the first
rank; who, from the castle disdained not to make, over a very fatiguing
mountain, the pilgrimage of Mont Louis. I owed all these visits to the
favor of M. and Madam de Luxembourg; this I felt, and my heart on that
account did them all due homage. It was with the same sentiment that I
once said to M. de Luxembourg, embracing him: "Ah! Monsieur le Marechal,
I hated the great before I knew you, and I have hated them still more
since you have shown me with what ease they might acquire universal
respect." Further than this I defy any person with whom I was then
acquainted, to say I was ever dazzled for an instant with splendor, or
that the vapor of the incense I received ever affected my head; that
I was less uniform in my manner, less plain in my dress, less easy of
access to people of the lowest rank, less familiar with neighbors, or
less ready to render service to every person when I had it in my power
so to do, without ever once being discouraged by the numerous and
frequently unreasonable importunities with which I was incessantly
assailed.
Although my heart led me to the castle of Montmorency, by my sincere
attachment to those by whom it was inhabited, it by the same means drew
me back to the neighborhood of it, there to taste the sweets of the
equal and simple life, in which my only happiness consisted. Theresa
had contracted a friendship with the daughter of one of my neighbors, a
mason of the name of Pilleu; I did the same with the father, and after
having dined at the castle, not without some constraint, to please Madam
de Luxembourg, with what eagerness did I return in the evening to sup
with the good man Pilleu and his family, sometimes at his own house and
at others at mine.
Besides my two lodgings in the country, I soon had a third at the Hotel
de Luxembourg, the proprietors of which pressed me so much to go and
see them there, that I consented, notwithstanding my aversion to Paris,
where, since my retiring to the Hermitage, I had been but twice, upon
the two occasions of which I have spoken. I did not now go there except
on the days agreed upon, solely to supper, and the next morning I
returned to the country. I entered and came out by the garden which
faces the boulevard, so that I could with the greatest truth, say I had
not set my foot upon the stones of Paris.
In the midst of this transient prosperity, a catastrophe, which was to
be the conclusion of it, was preparing at a distance. A short time after
my return to Mont Louis, I made there, and as it was customary, against
my inclination, a new acquaintance, which makes another era in my
private history. Whether this be favorable or unfavorable, the
reader will hereafter be able to judge. The person with whom I became
acquainted was the Marchioness of Verdelin, my neighbor, whose husband
had just bought a country-house at Soisy, near Montmorency. Mademoiselle
d'Ars, daughter to the Comte d'Ars, a man of fashion, but poor, had
married M. de Verdelin, old, ugly, deaf, uncouth, brutal, jealous, with
gashes in his face, and blind of one eye, but, upon the whole, a good
man when properly managed, and in possession of a fortune of from
fifteen to twenty thousand a year. This charming object, swearing,
roaring, scolding, storming, and making his wife cry all day long, ended
by doing whatever she thought proper, and this to set her in a rage,
because she knew how to persuade him that it was he who would, and she
would not have it so. M. de Margency, of whom I have spoken, was the
friend of madam, and became that of monsieur. He had a few years before
let them his castle of Margency, near Eaubonne and Andilly, and they
resided there precisely at the time of my passion for Madam d'Houdetot.
Madam d'Houdetot and Madam de Verdelin became acquainted with each
other, by means of Madam d'Aubeterre their common friend; and as the
garden of Margency was in the road by which Madam d'Houdetot went to
Mont Olympe, her favorite walk, Madam de Verdelin gave her a key that
she might pass through it. By means of this key I crossed it several
times with her; but I did not like unexpected meetings, and when Madam
de Verdelin was by chance upon our way I left them together without
speaking to her, and went on before. This want of gallantry must have
made on her an impression unfavorable to me. Yet when she was at Soisy
she was anxious to have my company. She came several times to see me at
Mont Louis, without finding me at home, and perceiving I did not return
her visit, took it into her head, as a means of forcing me to do it,
to send me pots of flowers for my terrace. I was under the necessity
of going to thank her; this was all she wanted, and we thus became
acquainted.
This connection, like every other I formed; or was led into contrary to
my inclination, began rather boisterously. There never reigned in it
a real calm. The turn of mind of Madam de Verdelinwas too opposite to
mine. Malignant expressions and pointed sarcasms came from her with so
much simplicity, that a continual attention too fatiguing for me was
necessary to perceive she was turning into ridicule the person to whom
she spoke. One trivial circumstance which occurs to my recollection
will be sufficient to give an idea of her manner. Her brother had just
obtained the command of a frigate cruising against the English. I
spoke of the manner of fitting out this frigate without diminishing its
swiftness of sailing. "Yes," replied she, in the most natural tone of
voice, "no more cannon are taken than are necessary for fighting." I
seldom have heard her speak well of any of her absent friends without
letting slip something to their prejudice. What she did not see with an
evil eye she looked upon with one of ridicule, and her friend Margency
was not excepted. What I found most insupportable in her was the
perpetual constraint proceeding from her little messages, presents and
billets, to which it was a labor for me to answer, and I had continual
embarrassments either in thanking or refusing. However, by frequently
seeing this lady I became attached to her. She had her troubles as
well as I had mine. Reciprocal confidence rendered our conversations
interesting. Nothing so cordially attaches two persons as the
satisfaction of weeping together. We sought the company of each other
for our reciprocal consolation, and the want of this has frequently made
me pass over many things. I had been so severe in my frankness with her,
that after having sometimes shown so little esteem for her character,
a great deal was necessary to be able to believe she could sincerely
forgive me.
The following letter is a specimen of the epistles I sometimes wrote to
her, and it is to be remarked that she never once in any of her answers
to them seemed to be in the least degree piqued.
MONTMORENCY, 5th November, 1760.
"You tell me, madam, you have not well explained yourself, in order
to make me understand I have explained myself ill. You speak of your
pretended stupidity for the purpose of making me feel my own. You boast
of being nothing more than a good kind of woman, as if you were afraid
to being taken at your word, and you make me apologies to tell me I owe
them to you. Yes, madam, I know it; it is I who am a fool, a good kind
of man; and, if it be possible, worse than all this; it is I who make a
bad choice of my expressions in the opinion of a fine French lady,
who pays as much attention to words, and speaks as well as you do. But
consider that I take them in the common meaning of the language without
knowing or troubling my head about the polite acceptations in which
they are taken in the virtuous societies of Paris. If my expressions
are sometimes equivocal, I endeavored by my conduct to determine their
meaning," etc. The rest of the letter is much the same.
Coindet, enterprising, bold, even to effrontery, and who was upon the
watch after all my friends, soon introduced himself in my name to the
house of Madam de Verdelin, and, unknown to me, shortly became there
more familiar than myself. This Coindet was an extraordinary man. He
presented himself in my name in the houses of all my acquaintance,
gained a footing in them, and ate there without ceremony. Transported
with zeal to do me service, he never mentioned my name without his eyes
being suffused with tears; but, when he came to see me, he kept the most
profound silence on the subject of all these connections, and especially
on that in which he knew I must be interested. Instead of telling me
what he had heard, said, or seen, relative to my affairs, he waited for
my speaking to him, and even interrogated me. He never knew anything of
what passed in Paris, except that which I told him: finally, although
everybody spoke to me of him, he never once spoke to me of any person;
he was secret and mysterious with his friend only; but I will for the
present leave Coindet and Madam de Verdelin, and return to them at a
proper time.
Sometime after my return to Mont Louis, La Tour, the painter, came to
see me, and brought with him my portrait in crayons, which a few
years before he had exhibited at the salon. He wished to give me this
portrait, which I did not choose to accept. But Madam d'Epinay, who had
given me hers, and would have had this, prevailed upon me to ask him
for it. He had taken some time to retouch the features. In the interval
happened my rupture with Madam d'Epinay; I returned her her portrait;
and giving her mine being no longer in question, I put it into my
chamber, in the castle. M. de Luxembourg saw it there, and found it a
good one; I offered it him, he accepted it, and I sent it to the castle.
He and his lady comprehended I should be very glad to have theirs. They
had them taken in miniature by a very skilful hand, set in a box of rock
crystal, mounted with gold, and in a very handsome manner, with which
I was delighted, made me a present of both. Madam de Luxenbourg would
never consent that her portrait should be on the upper part of the box.
She had reproached me several times with loving M. de Luxembourg better
than I did her; I had not denied it because it was true. By this manner
of placing her portrait she showed very politely, but very clearly, she
had not forgotten the preference.
Much about this time I was guilty of a folly which did not contribute
to preserve me to her good graces. Although I had no knowledge of M. de
Silhoutte, and was not much disposed to like him, I had a great opinion
of his administration. When he began to let his hand fall rather
heavily upon financiers, I perceived he did not begin his operation in
a favorable moment, but he had my warmest wishes for his success; and
as soon as I heard he was displaced I wrote to him, in my intrepid,
heedless manner, the following letter, which I certainly do not
undertake to justify.
MONTMORENCY, 2d December, 1759.
"Vouchsafe, sir, to receive the homage of a solitary man, who is not
known to you, but who esteems you for your talents, respects you for
your administration, and who did you the honor to believe you would not
long remain in it. Unable to save the State, except at the expense of
the capital by which it has been ruined, you have braved the clamors of
the gainers of money. When I saw you crush these wretches, I envied
you your place; and at seeing you quit it without departing from your
system, I admire you. Be satisfied with yourself, sir; the step you have
taken will leave you an honor you will long enjoy without a competitor.
The malediction of knaves is the glory of an honest man."
Madam de Luxembourg, who knew I had written this letter, spoke to me of
it when she came into the country at Easter. I showed it to her and she
was desirous of a copy; this I gave her, but when I did it I did not
know she was interested in under-farms, and the displacing of M. de
Silhoutte. By my numerous follies any person would have imagined I
wilfully endeavored to bring on myself the hatred of an amiable woman
who had power, and to whom, in truth, I daily became more attached, and
was far from wishing to occasion her displeasure, although by my awkward
manner of proceeding, I did everything proper for that purpose. I think
it superfluous to remark here, that it is to her the history of the
opiate of M. Tronchin, of which I have spoken in the first part of my
memoirs, relates; the other lady was Madam de Mirepoix. They have never
mentioned to me the circumstance, nor has either of them, in the least,
seemed to have preserved a remembrance of it; but to presume that
Madam de Luxembourg can possibly have forgotten it appears to me very
difficult, and would still remain so, even were the subsequent events
entirely unknown. For my part, I fell into a deceitful security relative
to the effects of my stupid mistakes, by an internal evidence of my not
having taken any step with an intention to offend; as if a woman could
ever forgive what I had done, although she might be certain the will had
not the least part in the matter.
Although she seemed not to see or feel anything, and that I did not
immediately find either her warmth of friendship diminished or the least
change in her manner, the continuation and even increase of a too well
founded foreboding made me incessantly tremble, lest disgust should
succeed to infatuation. Was it possible for me to expect in a lady of
such high rank, a constancy proof against my want of address to support
it? I was unable to conceal from her this secret foreboding, which made
me uneasy, and rendered me still more disagreeable. This will be judged
of by the following letter, which contains a very singular prediction.
N. B. This letter, without date in my rough copy, was written in
October, 1760, at latest.
"How cruel is your goodness? Why disturb the peace of a solitary mortal
who had renounced the pleasures of life, that he might no longer suffer
the fatigues of them. I have passed my days in vainly searching for
solid attachments. I have not been able to form any in the ranks to
which I was equal; is it in yours that I ought to seek for them? Neither
ambition nor interest can tempt me: I am not vain, but little fearful;
I can resist everything except caresses. Why do you both attack me by a
weakness which I must overcome, because in the distance by which we are
separated, the over-flowings of susceptible hearts cannot bring mine
near to you? Will gratitude be sufficient for a heart which knows not
two manners of bestowing its affections, and feels itself incapable of
everything except friendship? Of friendship, madam la marechale! Ah!
there is my misfortune! It is good in you and the marechal to make use
of this expression; but I am mad when I take you at your word. You amuse
yourselves, and I become attached; and the end of this prepares for me
new regrets. How I do hate all your titles, and pity you on account
of your being obliged to bear them? You seem to me to be so worthy of
tasting the charms of private life! Why do not you reside at Clarens?
I would go there in search of happiness; but the castle of Montmorency,
and the Hotel de Luxembourg! Is it in these places Jean Jacques ought to
be seen? Is it there a friend to equality ought to carry the affections
of a sensible heart, and who thus paying the esteem in which he is held,
thinks he returns as much as he receives? You are good and susceptible
also: this I know and have seen; I am sorry I was not sooner convinced
of it; but in the rank you hold, in the manner of living, nothing can
make a lasting impression; a succession of new objects efface each other
so that not one of them remains. You will forget me, madam, after having
made it impossible for me to imitate you. You have done a great deal to
make me unhappy, to be inexcusable."
I joined with her the marechal, to render the compliment less severe;
for I was moreover so sure of him, that I never had a doubt in my mind
of the continuation of his friendship. Nothing that intimidated me in
madam la marechale, ever for a moment extended to him. I never have had
the least mistrust relative to his character, which I knew to be feeble,
but constant. I no more feared a coldness on his part than I expected
from him an heroic attachment. The simplicity and familiarity of our
manners with each other proved how far dependence was reciprocal. We
were both always right: I shall ever honor and hold dear the memory of
this worthy man, and, notwithstanding everything that was done to detach
him from me, I am as certain of his having died my friend as if I had
been present in his last moments.
At the second journey to Montmorency, in the year 1760, the reading of
Eloisa being finished, I had recourse to that of Emilius, to support
myself in the good graces of Madam de Luxembourg; but this, whether
the subject was less to her taste; or that so much reading at length
fatigued her, did not succeed so well. However, as she reproached me
with suffering myself to be the dupe of booksellers, she wished me to
leave to her care the printing the work, that I might reap from it a
greater advantage. I consented to her doing it, on the express condition
of its not being printed in France, on which we had along dispute;
I affirming that it was impossible to obtain, and even imprudent
to solicit, a tacit permission; and being unwilling to permit the
impression upon any other terms in the kingdom; she, that the censor
could not make the least difficulty, according to the system government
had adopted. She found means to make M. de Malesherbes enter into her
views. He wrote to me on the subject a long letter with his own hand, to
prove the profession of faith of the Savoyard vicar to be a composition
which must everywhere gain the approbation of its readers and that of
the court, as things were then circumstanced. I was surprised to see
this magistrate, always so prudent, become so smooth in the business,
as the printing of a book was by that alone legal, I had no longer any
objection to make to that of the work. Yet, by an extraordinary scruple,
I still required it should be printed in Holland, and by the bookseller
Neaulme, whom, not satisfied with indicating him, I informed of my
wishes, consenting the edition should be brought out for the profit of a
French bookseller, and that as soon as it was ready it should be sold at
Paris, or wherever else it might be thought proper, as with this I had
no manner of concern. This is exactly what was agreed upon between Madam
de Luxembourg and myself, after which I gave her my manuscript.
Madam de Luxembourg was this time accompanied by her granddaughter
Mademoiselle de Boufflers, now Duchess of Lauzun. Her name was Amelia.
She was a charming girl. She really had a maiden beauty, mildness and
timidity. Nothing could be more lovely than her person, nothing more
chaste and tender than the sentiments she inspired. She was, besides,
still a child under eleven years of age. Madam de Luxembourg, who
thought her too timid, used every endeavor to animate her. She
permitted me several times to give her a kiss, which I did with my usual
awkwardness. Instead of saying flattering things to her, as any other
person would have done, I remained silent and disconcerted, and I know
not which of the two, the little girl or myself, was most ashamed.
[Illustration: 0202
I met her one day alone in the staircase of the little castle. She had
been to see Theresa, with whom her governess still was. Not knowing what
else to say, I proposed to her a kiss, which, in the innocence of her
heart, she did not refuse; having in the morning received one from me
by order of her grandmother, and in her presence. The next day, while
reading Emilius by the side of the bed of Madam de Luxembourg, I came to
a passage in which I justly censure that which I had done the preceding
evening. She thought the reflection extremely just, and said some very
sensible things upon the subject which made me blush. How was I enraged
at my incredible stupidity, which has frequently given me the appearance
of guilt when I was nothing more than a fool and embarrassed! A
stupidity, which in a man known to be endowed with some wit, is
considered as a false excuse. I can safely swear that in this kiss, as
well as in the others, the heart and thoughts of Mademoiselle Amelia
were not more pure than my own, and that if I could have avoided meeting
her I should have done it; not that I had not great pleasure in seeing
her, but from the embarrassment of not finding a word proper to say.
Whence comes it that even a child can intimidate a man, whom the power
of kings has never inspired with fear? What is to be done? How, without
presence of mind, am I to act? If I strive to speak to the persons I
meet, I certainly say some stupid thing to them; if I remain silent, I
am a misanthrope, an unsociable animal, a bear. Total imbecility would
have been more favorable to me; but the talents which I have failed to
improve in the world have become the instruments of my destruction, and
of that of the talents I possessed.
At the latter end of this journey, Madam de Luxembourg did a good action
in which I had some share. Diderot having very imprudently offended the
Princess of Robeck, daughter of M. de Luxembourg, Palissot, whom she
protected, took up the quarrel, and revenged her by the comedy of
'The Philosophers', in which I was ridiculed, and Diderot very roughly
handled. The author treated me with more gentleness, less, I am of
opinion, on account of the obligation he was under to me, than from the
fear of displeasing the father of his protectress, by whom he knew I
was beloved. The bookseller Duchesne, with whom I was not at that time
acquainted, sent me the comedy when it was printed, and this I suspect
was by the order of Palissot, who, perhaps, thought I should have a
pleasure in seeing a man with whom I was no longer connected defamed.
He was greatly deceived. When I broke with Diderot, whom I thought less
ill-natured than weak and indiscreet, I still always preserved for his
person an attachment, an esteem even, and a respect for our ancient
friendship, which I know was for a long time as sincere on his part as
on mine. The case was quite different with Grimm; a man false by nature,
who never loved me, who is not even capable of friendship, and a person
who, without the least subject of complaint, and solely to satisfy his
gloomy jealousy, became, under the mask of friendship, my most cruel
calumniator. This man is to me a cipher; the other will always be my old
friend.
My very bowels yearned at the sight of this odious piece: the reading
of it was insupportable to me, and, without going through the whole, I
returned the copy to Duchesne with the following letter:
MONTMORENCY, 21st, May, 1760.
"In casting my eyes over the piece you sent me, I trembled at seeing
myself well spoken of in it. I do not accept the horrid present. I am
persuaded that in sending it me, you did not intend an insult; but you
do not know, or have forgotten, that I have the honor to be the friend
of a respectable man, who is shamefully defamed and calumniated in this
libel."
Duchense showed the letter. Diderot, upon whom it ought to have had an
effect quite contrary, was vexed at it. His pride could not forgive
me the superiority of a generous action, and I was informed his wife
everywhere inveighed against me with a bitterness with which I was not
in the least affected, as I knew she was known to everybody to be a
noisy babbler.
Diderot in his turn found an avenger in the Abbe Morrellet, who wrote
against Palissot a little work, imitated from the 'Petit Prophete', and
entitled the Vision. In this production he very imprudently offended
Madam de Robeck, whose friends got him sent to the Bastile; though
she, not naturally vindictive, and at that time in a dying state, I am
certain had nothing to do with the affair.
D'Alembert, who was very intimately connected with Morrellet, wrote me
a letter, desiring I would beg of Madam de Luxembourg to solicit his
liberty, promising her in return encomiums in the 'Encyclopedie'; my
answer to this letter was as follows:
"I did not wait the receipt of your letter before I expressed to Madam
de Luxembourg the pain the confinement of the Abbe Morrellet gave me.
She knows my concern, and shall be made acquainted with yours, and her
knowing that the abbe is a man of merit will be sufficient to make her
interest herself in his behalf. However, although she and the marechal
honor me with a benevolence which is my greatest consolation, and that
the name of your friend be to them a recommendation in favor of the Abbe
Morrellet, I know not how far, on this occasion, it may be proper
for them to employ the credit attached to the rank they hold, and the
consideration due to their persons. I am not even convinced that the
vengeance in question relates to the Princess Robeck so much as you seem
to imagine; and were this even the case, we must not suppose that the
pleasure of vengeance belongs to philosophers exclusively, and that when
they choose to become women, women will become philosophers.
"I will communicate to you whatever Madam de Luxembourg may say to me
after having shown her your letter. In the meantime, I think I know
her well enough to assure you that, should she have the pleasure of
contributing to the enlargement of the Abbe Morrellet, she will
not accept the tribute of acknowledgment you promise her in the
Encyclopedie, although she might think herself honored by it, because
she does not do good in the expectation of praise, but from the dictates
of her heart."
I made every effort to excite the zeal and commiseration of Madam de
Luxembourg in favor of the poor captive, and succeeded to my wishes. She
went to Versailles on purpose to speak to M. de St. Florentin, and this
journey shortened the residence at Montmorency, which the marechal was
obliged to quit at the same time to go to Rouen, whither the king
sent him as governor of Normandy, on account of the motions of the
parliament, which government wished to keep within bounds. Madam de
Luxembourg wrote me the following letter the day after her departure:
VERSAILLES, Wednesday.
"M. de Luxembourg set off yesterday morning at six o'clock. I do not yet
know that I shall follow him. I wait until he writes to me, as he is
not yet certain of the stay it will be necessary for him to make. I
have seen M. de St. Florentin, who is as favorably disposed as possible
towards the Abbe Morrellet; but he finds some obstacles to his wishes
which however, he is in hopes of removing the first time he has to do
business with the king, which will be next week. I have also desired as
a favor that he might not be exiled, because this was intended; he was
to be sent to Nancy. This, sir, is what I have been able to obtain; but
I promise you I will not let M. de St. Florentin rest until the affair
is terminated in the manner you desire. Let me now express to you how
sorry I am on account of my being obliged to leave you so soon, of which
I flatter myself you have not the least doubt. I love you with all my
heart, and shall do so for my whole life."
A few days afterwards I received the following note from D'Alembert,
which gave me real joy.
August 1st.
"Thanks to your cares, my dear philosopher, the abbe has left the
Bastile, and his imprisonment will have no other consequence. He is
setting off for the country, and, as well as myself, returns you a
thousand thanks and compliments. 'Vale et me ama'."
The abbe also wrote to me a few days afterwards a letter of thanks,
which did not, in my opinion, seem to breathe a certain effusion of the
heart, and in which he seemed in some measure to extenuate the service
I had rendered him. Some time afterwards, I found that he and D'Alembert
had, to a certain degree, I will not say supplanted, but succeeded me in
the good graces of Madam de Luxembourg, and that I had lost in them all
they had gained. However, I am far from suspecting the Abbe Morrellet
of having contributed to my disgrace; I have too much esteem for him
to harbor any such suspicion. With respect to D'Alembert, I shall at
present leave him out of the question, and hereafter say of him what may
seem necessary.
I had, at the same time, another affair which occasioned the last letter
I wrote to Voltaire; a letter against which he vehemently exclaimed, as
an abominable insult, although he never showed it to any person. I will
here supply the want of that which he refused to do.
The Abbe Trublet, with whom I had a slight acquaintance, but whom I had
but seldom seen, wrote to me on the 13th of June, 1760, informing me
that M. Formey, his friend and correspondent, had printed in his journal
my letter to Voltaire upon the disaster at Lisbon. The abbe wished to
know how the letter came to be printed, and in his jesuitical manner,
asked me my opinion, without giving me his own on the necessity of
reprinting it. As I most sovereignly hate this kind of artifice and
strategem, I returned such thanks as were proper, but in a manner so
reserved as to make him feel it, although this did not prevent him from
wheedling me in two or three other letters until he had gathered all he
wished to know.
I clearly understood that, not withstanding all Trublet could say,
Formey had not found the letter printed, and that the first impression
of it came from himself. I knew him to be an impudent pilferer, who,
without ceremony, made himself a revenue by the works of others.
Although he had not yet had the incredible effrontery to take from a
book already published the name of the author, to put his own in the
place of it, and to sell the book for his own profit.
[In this manner he afterwards appropriated to himself Emilius.]
But by what means had this manuscript fallen into his hands? That was
a question not easy to resolve, but by which I had the weakness to be
embarrassed. Although Voltaire was excessively honored by the letter, as
in fact, notwithstanding his rude proceedings, he would have had a right
to complain had I had it printed without his consent, I resolved to
write to him upon the subject. The second letter was as follows, to
which he returned no answer, and giving greater scope to his brutality,
he feigned to be irritated to fury.
MONTMORENCY, 17th June, 1760.
"I did not think, sir, I should ever have occasion to correspond with
you. But learning the letter I wrote to you in 1756 had been printed
at Berlin, I owe you an account of my conduct in that respect, and will
fulfil this duty with truth and simplicity.
"The letter having really been addressed to you was not intended to be
printed. I communicated the contents of it, on certain conditions, to
three persons, to whom the right of friendship did not permit me
to refuse anything of the kind, and whom the same rights still less
permitted to abuse my confidence by betraying their promise. These
persons are Madam de Chenonceaux, daughter-in-law to Madam Dupin,
the Comtesse d'Houdetot, and a German of the name of Grimm. Madam de
Chenonceaux was desirous the letter should be printed, and asked my
consent. I told her that depended upon yours. This was asked of you
which you refused, and the matter dropped.
"However, the Abbe Trublet, with whom I have not the least connection,
has just written to me from a motive of the most polite attention that
having received the papers of the journal of M. Formey, he found in them
this same letter with an advertisement, dated on the 23d of October,
1759, in which the editor states that he had a few weeks before found
it in the shops of the booksellers of Berlin, and, as it is one of those
loose sheets which shortly disappear, he thought proper to give it a
place in his journal.
"This, sir, is all I know of the matter. It is certain the letter had
not until lately been heard of at Paris. It is also as certain that
the copy, either in manuscript or print, fallen into the hands of M. de
Formey, could never have reached them except by your means (which is
not probable) or of those of one of the three persons I have mentioned.
Finally, it is well known the two ladies are incapable of such a
perfidy. I cannot, in my retirement learn more relative to the affair.
You have a correspondence by means of which you may, if you think it
worth the trouble, go back to the source and verify the fact.
"In the same letter the Abbe Trublet informs me that he keeps the
paper in reserve, and will not lend it without my consent, which most
assuredly I will not give. But it is possible this copy may not be the
only one in Paris. I wish, sir, the letter may not be printed there,
and I will do all in my power to prevent this from happening; but if
I cannot succeed, and that, timely perceiving it, I can have the
preference, I will not then hesitate to have it immediately printed.
This to me appears just and natural.
"With respect to your answer to the same letter, it has not been
communicated to anyone, and you may be assured it shall not be printed
without your consent, which I certainly shall not be indiscreet enough
to ask of you, well knowing that what one man writes to another is not
written to the public. But should you choose to write one you wish to
have published, and address it to me, I promise you faithfully to add to
it my letter and not to make to it a single word of reply.
"I love you not, sir; you have done me, your disciple and enthusiastic
admirer; injuries which might have caused me the most exquisite pain.
You have ruined Geneva, in return for the asylum it has afforded you;
you have alienated from me my fellow-citizens, in return for eulogiums I
made of you amongst them; it is you who render to me the residence of
my own country insupportable; it is you who will oblige me to die in a
foreign land, deprived of all the consolations usually administered to
a dying person; and cause me, instead of receiving funeral rites, to
be thrown to the dogs, whilst all the honors a man can expect will
accompany you in my country. Finally I hate you because you have been
desirous I should; but I hate you as a man more worthy of loving you had
you chosen it. Of all the sentiments with which my heart was penetrated
for you, admiration, which cannot be refused your fine genius, and a
partiality to your writings, are those you have not effaced. If I can
honor nothing in you except your talents, the fault is not mine. I shall
never be wanting in the respect due to them, nor in that which this
respect requires."
In the midst of these little literary cavillings, which still fortified
my resolution, I received the greatest honor letters ever acquired me,
and of which I was the most sensible, in the two visits the Prince of
Conti deigned to make to me, one at the Little Castle and the other at
Mont Louis. He chose the time for both of these when M. de Luxembourg
was not at Montmorency, in order to render it more manifest that he came
there solely on my account. I have never had a doubt of my owing the
first condescensions of this prince to Madam de Luxembourg and Madam de
Boufflers; but I am of opinion I owe to his own sentiments and to myself
those with which he has since that time continually honored me.
[Remark the perseverance of this blind and stupid confidence in the
midst of all the treatment which should soonest have undeceived me.
It continued until my return to Paris in 1770.]
My apartments at Mont Louis being small, and the situation of the
alcove charming, I conducted the prince to it, where, to complete the
condescension he was pleased to show me, he chose I should have the
honor of playing with him a game of chess. I knew he beat the Chevalier
de Lorenzy, who played better than I did. However, notwithstanding the
signs and grimace of the chevalier and the spectators, which I feigned
not to see, I won the two games we played: When they were ended, I said
to him in a respectful but very grave manner: "My lord, I honor your
serene highness too much not to beat you always at chess." This great
prince, who had real wit, sense, and knowledge, and so was worthy not to
be treated with mean adulation, felt in fact, at least I think so, that
I was the only person present who treated him like a man, and I have
every reason to believe he was not displeased with me for it.
Had this even been the case, I should not have reproached myself with
having been unwilling to deceive him in anything, and I certainly cannot
do it with having in my heart made an ill return for his goodness,
but solely with having sometimes done it with an ill grace, whilst he
himself accompanied with infinite gracefulness the manner in which he
showed me the marks of it. A few days afterwards he ordered a hamper of
game to be sent me, which I received as I ought. This in a little time
was succeeded by another, and one of his gamekeepers wrote me, by order
of his highness, that the game it contained had been shot by the
prince himself. I received this second hamper, but I wrote to Madam de
Boufflers that I would not receive a third. This letter was generally
blamed, and deservedly so. Refusing to accept presents of game from a
prince of the blood, who moreover sends it in so polite a manner,
is less the delicacy of a haughty man, who wishes to preserve his
independence, than the rusticity of a clown, who does not know himself.
I have never read this letter in my collection without blushing and
reproaching myself for having written it. But I have not undertaken my
Confession with an intention of concealing my faults, and that of which
I have just spoken is too shocking in my own eyes to suffer me to pass
it over in silence.
If I were not guilty of the offence of becoming his rival I was very
near doing it; for Madam de Boufflers was still his mistress, and I knew
nothing of the matter. She came rather frequently to see me with the
Chevalier de Lorenzy. She was yet young and beautiful, affected to be
whimsical, and my mind was always romantic, which was much of the same
nature. I was near being laid hold of; I believe she perceived it; the
chevalier saw it also, at least he spoke to me upon the subject, and in
a manner not discouraging. But I was this time reasonable, and at the
age of fifty it was time I should be so. Full of the doctrine I had just
preached to graybeards in my letter to D'Alembert, I should have been
ashamed of not profiting by it myself; besides, coming to the knowledge
of that of which I had been ignorant, I must have been mad to have
carried my pretensions so far as to expose myself to such an illustrious
rivalry. Finally, ill cured perhaps of my passion for Madam de Houdetot,
I felt nothing could replace it in my heart, and I bade adieu to love
for the rest of my life. I have this moment just withstood the dangerous
allurements of a young woman who had her views; and if she feigned to
forget my twelve lustres I remember them. After having thus withdrawn
myself from danger, I am no longer afraid of a fall, and I answer for
myself for the rest of my days.
Madam de Boufflers, perceiving the emotion she caused in me, might also
observe I had triumphed over it. I am neither mad nor vain enough to
believe I was at my age capable of inspiring her with the same feelings;
but, from certain words which she let drop to Theresa, I thought I had
inspired her with a curiosity; if this be the case, and that she has not
forgiven me the disappointment she met with, it must be confessed I was
born to be the victim of my weaknesses, since triumphant love was so
prejudicial to me, and love triumphed over not less so.
Here finishes the collection of letters which has served me as a guide
in the last two books. My steps will in future be directed by memory
only; but this is of such a nature, relative to the period to which I am
now come, and the strong impression of objects has remained so perfectly
upon my mind, that lost in the immense sea of my misfortunes, I cannot
forget the detail of my first shipwreck, although the consequences
present to me but a confused remembrance. I therefore shall be able
to proceed in the succeeding book with sufficient confidence. If I go
further it will be groping in the dark.