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.