to me, the air of Alpheus and Arethusa being almost all I had learned at
the seminary. My predilection for this art started the idea of making a
musician of, me. A convenient opportunity offered; once a week, at
least, she had a concert at her house, and the music-master from the
cathedral, who directed this little band, came frequently to see her.
This was a Parisian, named M. le Maitre, a good composer, very lively,
gay, young, well made, of little understanding, but, upon the whole, a
good sort of man. Madam de Warrens made us acquainted; I attached myself
to him, and he seemed not displeased with me. A pension was talked of,
and agreed on; in short, I went home with him, and passed the winter the
more agreeably at his chambers, as they were not above twenty paces
distant from Madam de Warrens', where we frequently supped together.
It may easily be supposed that this situation, ever gay, and singing with
the musicians and children of the choir, was more pleasing to me than the
seminary and fathers of St. Lazarus. This life, though free, was
regular; here I learned to prize independence, but never to abuse it.
For six whole months I never once went out except to see Madam de
Warrens, or to church, nor had I any inclination to it. This interval is
one of those in which I enjoyed the greatest satisfaction, and which I
have ever recollected with pleasure. Among the various situations I have
been placed in, some were marked with such an idea of virtuous
satisfaction, that the bare remembrance affects me as if they were yet
present. I vividly recollect the time, the place, the persons, and even
the temperature of the air, while the lively idea of a certain local
impression peculiar to those times, transports me back again to the very
spot; for example, all that was repeated at our meetings, all that was
sung in the choir, everything that passed there; the beautiful and noble
habits of the canons, the chasubles of the priests, the mitres of the
singers, the persons of the musicians; an old lame carpenter who played
the counter-bass, a little fair abbe who performed on the violin, the
ragged cassock which M. le Maitre, after taking off his sword, used to
put over his secular habit, and the fine surplice with which he covered
the rags of the former, when he went to the choir; the pride with which I
held my little flute to my lips, and seated myself in the orchestra, to
assist in a recitative which M. le Maitre had composed on purpose for me;
the good dinner that afterwards awaited us, and the good appetites we
carried to it. This concourse of objects, strongly retraced in my
memory, has charmed me a hundred time as much, or perhaps more, than ever
the reality had done. I have always preserved an affection for a certain
air of the 'Conditor alme Syderum', because one Sunday in Advent I heard
that hymn sung on the steps of the cathedral, (according to the custom of
that place) as I lay in bed before daybreak. Mademoiselle Merceret,
Madam de Warrens' chambermaid, knew something of music; I shall never
forget a little piece that M. le Maitre made me sing with her, and which
her mistress listened to with great satisfaction. In a word, every
particular, even down to the servant Perrine, whom the boys of the choir
took such delight in teasing. The remembrance of these times of
happiness and innocence frequently returning to my mind, both ravish and
affect me.
I lived at Annecy during a year without the least reproach, giving
universal satisfaction. Since my departure from Turin I had been guilty
of no folly, committed none while under the eye of Madam de Warrens.
She was my conductor, and ever led me right; my attachment for her became
my only passion, and what proves it was not a giddy one, my heart and
understanding were in unison. It is true that a single sentiment,
absorbing all my faculties, put me out of a capacity of learning even
music: but this was not my fault, since to the strongest inclination,
I added the utmost assiduity. I was attentive and thoughtful; what could
I do? Nothing was wanting towards my progress that depended on me;
meantime, it only required a subject that might inspire me to occasion
the commission of new follies: that subject presented itself, chance
arranged it, and (as will be seen hereafter) my inconsiderate head gave
in to it.
One evening, in the month of February, when it was very cold, being all
sat round the fire, we heard some one knock at the street door. Perrine
took a light, went down and opened it: a young man entering, came
upstairs, presented himself with an easy air, and making M. Maitre a
short, but well-turned compliment, announced himself as a French
musician, constrained by the state of his finances to take this liberty.
The hart of the good Le Maitre leaped at the name of a French musician,
for he passionately loved both his country and profession; he therefore
offered the young traveller his service--and use of his apartment, which
he appeared to stand much in need of, and which he accepted without much
ceremony. I observed him while he was chatting and warming himself
before supper; he was short and thick, having some fault in his shape,
though without any particular deformity; he had (if I may so express
myself) an appearance of being hunchbacked, with flat shoulders, and I
think he limped. He wore a black coat, rather worn than old, which hung
in tatters, a very fine but dirty shirt, frayed ruffles; a pair of
splatterdashes so large that he could have put both legs into either of
them, and, to secure himself from the snow, a little hat, only fit to be
carried under his arm. With this whimsical equipage, he had, however,
something elegant in his manners and conversation; his countenance was
expressive and agreeable, and he spoke with facility if not with modesty;
in short, everything about him bore the mark of a young debauchee, who
did not crave assistance like a beggar, but as a thoughtless madcap.
He told us his name was Venture de Villeneuve, that he came from Paris,
had lost his way, and seeming to forget that he had announced himself for
a musician, added that he was going to Grenoble to see a relation that
was a member of Parliament.
During supper we talked of music, on which subject he spoke well: he knew
all the great virtuosi, all the celebrated works, all the actors,
actresses, pretty women, and powerful lords; in short nothing was
mentioned but what he seemed thoroughly acquainted with. Though no
sooner was any topic started, than by some drollery, which set every one
a-laughing, he made them forget what had been said. This was on a
Saturday; the next day there was to be music at the cathedral: M. le
Maitre asked if he would sing there--"Very willingly."--"What part would
he chose?"--"The counter-tenor:" and immediately began speaking of other
things. Before he went to church they offered him his part to peruse,
but he did not even look at it. This Gasconade surprised Le Maitre
--"You'll see," said he, whispering to me, "that he does not know a single
note."--I replied: "I am very much afraid of him." I followed them into
the church; but was extremely uneasy, and when they began, my heart beat
violently, so much was I interested in his behalf.
I was presently out of pain: he sung his two recitatives with all
imaginable taste and judgment; and what was yet more, with a very
agreeable voice. I never enjoyed a more pleasing surprise. After mass,
M. Venture received the highest compliments from the canons and
musicians, which he answered jokingly, though with great grace. M. le
Maitre embraced him heartily; I did the same; he saw I was rejoiced at
his success, and appeared pleased at my satisfaction.
It will easily be surmised, that after having been delighted with M.
Bacle, who had little to attract my admiration, I should be infatuated
with M. Venture, who had education, wit, talents, and a knowledge of the
world, and might be called an agreeable rake. This was exactly what
happened, and would, I believe, have happened to any other young man in
my place; especially supposing him possessed of better judgment to
distinguish merit, and more propensity to be engaged by it; for Venture
doubtless possessed a considerable share, and one in particular, very
rare at his age, namely, that of never being in haste to display his
talents. It is true, he boasted of many things he did not understand,
but of those he knew (which were very numerous) he said nothing,
patiently waiting some occasion to display them, which he then did with
ease, though without forwardness, and thus gave them more effect.
As there was ever some intermission between the proofs of his various
abilities, it was impossible to conjecture whether he had ever discovered
all his talents. Playful, giddy, inexhaustible, seducing in
conversation, ever smiling, but never laughing, and repeating the rudest
things in the most elegant manner--even the most modest women were
astonished at what they endured from him: it was in vain for them to
determine to be angry; they could not assume the appearance of it.
It was extraordinary that with so many agreeable talents, in a country
where they are so well understood, and so much admired, he so long
remained only a musician.
My attachment to M. Venture, more reasonable in its cause, was also less
extravagant in its effects, though more lively and durable than that I
had conceived for M. Bacle. I loved to see him, to hear him, all his
actions appeared charming, everything he said was an oracle to me, but
the enchantment did not extend far enough to disable me from quitting
him. I spoke of him with transport to Madam de Warrens, Le Maitre
likewise spoke in his praise, and she consented we should bring him to
her house. This interview did not succeed; he thought her affected, she
found him a libertine, and, alarmed that I had formed such an ill
acquaintance, not only forbade me bringing him there again, but likewise
painted so strongly the danger I ran with this young man, that I became a
little more circumspect in giving in to the attachment; and very happily,
both for my manners and wits, we were soon separated.
M. le Maitre, like most of his profession, loved good wine; at table he
was moderate, but when busy in his closet he must drink. His maid was so
well acquainted with this humor that no sooner had he prepared his paper
to compose, and taken his violoncello, than the bottle and glass arrived,
and was replenished from time to time: thus, without being ever
absolutely intoxicated, he was usually in a state of elevation. This was
really unfortunate, for he had a good heart, and was so playful that
Madam de Warrens used to call him the kitten. Unhappily, he loved his
profession, labored much and drank proportionately, which injured his
health, and at length soured his temper. Sometimes he was gloomy and
easily offended, though incapable of rudeness, or giving offence to any
one, for never did he utter a harsh word, even to the boys of the choir:
on the other hand, he would not suffer another to offend him, which was
but just: the misfortune was, having little understanding, he did not
properly discriminate, and was often angry without cause.
The Chapter of Geneva, where so many princes and bishops formerly thought
it an honor to be seated, though in exile it lost its ancient splendor,
retained (without any diminution) its pride. To be admitted, you must
either be a gentleman or Doctor of Sorbonne. If there is a pardonable
pride, after that derived from personal merit, it is doubtless that
arising from birth, though, in general, priests having laymen in their
service treat them with sufficient haughtiness, and thus the canons
behaved to poor Le Maitre. The chanter, in particular, who was called
the Abbe de Vidonne, in other respects a well-behaved man, but too full
of his nobility, did not always show him the attention his talents
merited. M. le Maitre could not bear these indignities patiently;
and this year, during passion week, they had a more serious dispute than
ordinary. At an institution dinner that the bishop gave the canons, and
to which M. Maitre was always invited, the abbe failed in some formality,
adding, at the same time, some harsh words, which the other could not
digest; he instantly formed the resolution to quit them the following
night; nor could any consideration make him give up his design, though
Madam de Warrens (whom he went to take leave of) spared no pains to
appease him. He could not relinquish the pleasure of leaving his tyrants
embarrassed for the Easter feast, at which time he knew they stood in
greatest need of him. He was most concerned about his music, which he
wished to take with him; but this could not easily be accomplished, as it
filled a large case, and was very heavy, and could not be carried under
the arm.
Madam de Warrens did what I should have done in her situation; and
indeed, what I should yet do: after many useless efforts to retain him,
seeing he was resolved to depart, whatever might be the event, she formed
the resolution to give him every possible assistance. I must confess Le
Maitre deserved it of her, for he was (if I may use the expression)
dedicated to her service, in whatever appertained to either his art or
knowledge, and the readiness with which he obliged gave a double value to
his complaisance: thus she only paid back, on an essential occasion, the
many favors he had been long conferring on her; though I should observe,
she possessed a soul that, to fulfill such duties, had no occasion to be
reminded of previous obligations. Accordingly she ordered me to follow
Le Maitre to Lyons, and to continue with him as long as he might have
occasion for my services. She has since avowed, that a desire of
detaching me from Venture had a great hand in this arrangement. She
consulted Claude Anet about the conveyance of the above-mentioned case.
He advised, that instead of hiring a beast at Annecy, which would
infallibly discover us, it would be better, at night, to take it to some
neighboring village, and there hire an ass to carry it to Seyssel, which
being in the French dominions, we should have nothing to fear. This plan
was adopted; we departed the same night at seven, and Madam de Warrens,
under pretense of paying my expenses, increased the purse of poor Le
Maitre by an addition that was very acceptable. Claude Anet, the
gardiner, and myself, carried the case to the first village, then hired
an ass, and the same night reached Seyssel.
I think I have already remarked that there are times in which I am so
unlike myself that I might be taken for a man of a direct opposite
disposition; I shall now give an example of this. M. Reydelet, curate of
Seyssel, was canon of St. Peter's, consequently known to M. le Maitre,
and one of the people from whom he should have taken most pains to
conceal himself; my advice, on the contrary, was to present ourselves to
him, and, under some pretext, entreat entertainment as if we visited him
by consent of the chapter. Le Maitre adopted the idea, which seemed to
give his revenge the appearance of satire and waggery; in short, we went
boldly to Reydelet, who received us very kindly. Le Maitre told him he
was going to Bellay by desire of the bishop, that he might superintend
the music during the Easter holidays, and that he proposed returning that
way in a few days. To support this tale, I told a hundred others, so
naturally that M. Reydelet thought me a very agreeable youth, and treated
me with great friendship and civility. We were well regaled and well
lodged: M. Reydelet scarcely knew how to make enough of us; and we parted
the best friends in the world, with a promise to stop longer on our
return. We found it difficult to refrain from laughter, or wait till we
were alone to give free vent to our mirth: indeed, even now, the bare
recollection of it forces a smile, for never was waggery better or more
fortunately maintained. This would have made us merry during the
remainder of our journey, if M. le Maitre (who did not cease drinking)
had not been two or three times attacked with a complaint that he
afterwards became very subject to, and which resembled an epilepsy.
These fits threw me into the most fearful embarrassments, from which I
resolved to extricate myself with the first opportunity.
According to the information given to M. Reydelet, we passed our Easter
holidays at Bellay, and though not expected there, were received by the
music--master, and welcomed by every one with great pleasure. M. le
Maitre was of considerable note in his profession, and, indeed, merited
that distinction. The music-master of Bellay (who was fond of his own
works) endeavored to obtain the approbation of so good a judge; for
besides being a connoisseur, M. le Maitre was equitable, neither a
jealous, ill-natured critic, nor a servile flatterer. He was so superior
to the generality of country music-masters and they were so sensible of
it, that they treated him rather as their chief than a brother musician.
Having passed four or five days very agreeably at Bellay, we departed,
and continuing our journey without meeting with any accidents, except
those I have just spoken of, arrived at Lyons, and were lodged at Notre
Dame de Pitie. While we waited for the arrival of the before-mentioned
case (which by the assistance of another lie, and the care of our good
patron, M. Reydelet, we had embarked on the Rhone) M. le Maitre went to
visit his acquaintance, and among others Father Cato, a Cordelier, who
will be spoken of hereafter, and the Abbe Dortan, Count of Lyons, both of
whom received him well, but afterwards betrayed him, as will be seen
presently; indeed, his good fortune terminated with M. Reydelet.
Two days after our arrival at Lyons, as we passed a little street not far
from our inn, Le Maitre was attacked by one of his fits; but it was now
so violent as to give me the utmost alarm. I screamed with terror,
called for help, and naming our inn, entreated some one to bear him to
it, then (while the people were assembled, and busy round a man that had
fallen senseless in the street) he was abandoned by the only friend on
whom he could have any reasonable dependence; I seized the instant when
no one heeded me, turned the corner of the street and disappeared.
Thanks to Heaven, I have made my third painful confession; if many such
remained, I should certainly abandon the work I have undertaken.
Of all the incidents I have yet related, a few traces are remaining in
the places where I have lived; but what I have to relate in the following
book is almost entirely unknown; these are the greatest extravagancies of
my life, and it is happy they had not worse conclusions. My head, (if I
may use the simile) screwed up to the pitch of an instrument it did not
naturally accord with, had lost its diapason; in time it returned to it
again, when I discontinued my follies, or at least gave in to those more
consonant to my disposition. This epoch of my youth I am least able to
recollect, nothing having passed sufficiently interesting to influence my
heart, to make me clearly retrace the remembrance. In so many successive
changes, it is difficult not to make some transpositions of time or
place. I write absolutely from memory, without notes or materials to
help my recollection. Some events are as fresh in my idea as if they had
recently happened, but there are certain chasms which I cannot fill up
but by the aid of recital, as confused as the remaining traces of those
to which they refer. It is possible, therefore, that I may have erred in
trifles, and perhaps shall again, but in every matter of importance I can
answer that the account is faithfully exact, and with the same veracity
the reader may depend I shall be careful to continue it.
My resolution was soon taken after quitting Le Maitre; I set out
immediately for Annecy. The cause and mystery of our departure had
interested me for the security of our retreat: this interest, which
entirely employed my thoughts for some days, had banished every other
idea; but no sooner was I secure and in tranquility, than my predominant
sentiment regained its place. Nothing flattered, nothing tempted me, I
had no wish but to return to Madam de Warrens; the tenderness and truth
of my attachment to her had rooted from my heart every imaginable
project, and all the follies of ambition, I conceived no happiness but
living near her, nor could I take a step without feeling that the
distance between us was increased. I returned, therefore, as soon as
possible, with such speed, and with my spirits in such a state of
agitation, that though I recall with pleasure all my other travels, I
have not the least recollection of this, only remembering my leaving
Lyons and reaching Annecy. Let anyone judge whether this last event can
have slipped my memory, when informed that on my arrival I found Madam de
Warrens was not there, having set out for Paris.
I was never well informed of the motives of this journey. I am certain
she would have told me had I asked her, but never was man less curious to
learn the secrets of his friend. My heart is ever so entirely filled
with the present, or with past pleasures, which become a principal part
of my enjoyment, that there is not a chink or corner for curiosity to
enter. All that I conceive from what I heard of it, is, that in the
revolution caused at Turin by the abdication of the King of Sardinia,
she feared being forgotten, and was willing by favor of the intrigues of
M. d' Aubonne to seek the same advantage in the court of France, where
she has often told me she should, have preferred it, as the multiplicity
of business there prevents your conduct from being so closely inspected.
If this was her business, it is astonishing that on her return she was
not ill received; be that as it will, she continued to enjoy her
allowance without any interruption. Many people imagined she was charged
with some secret commission, either by the bishop, who then had business
at the court of France, where he himself was soon after obliged to go,
or some one yet more powerful, who knew how to insure her a gracious
reception at her return. If this was the case, it is certain the
ambassadress was not ill chosen, since being young and handsome, she had
all the necessary qualifications to succeed in a negotiation.