*Jean Jacques Rousseau in his journey through
Lyons in June 1770 subscribed for the statue
of Voltaire.--author
It was the commencement of April, 1771, I was reading for the
fourth time, the "
,"and for the tenth, or,
probably, twelfth, the account of the party on the lake, when
the marechale de Mirepoix entered the room. I laid my open
volume on the mantel-piece, and the marechale, glancing her eye
upon the book I had just put down, smilingly begged my pardon for
disturbing my grave studies, and taking it in her hand, exclaimed,
"Ah! I see you have been perusing ''; I
have just been having more than an hour's conversation respecting
its author."
"What were you saying of him?" asked I.
"Why, my dear, I happened to be at the house of madame de
Luxembourg, where I met with the comtesse
de Boufflers."
"Yes, I remember," said I, "the former of these ladies was the
particular friend of Jean Jacques Rousseau."
"And the second also," answered she; "and I can promise you, that
neither the one or the other spoke too well of him."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed I, with a warmth I could not repress.
"The duchess," resumed madame de Mirepoix, "says he is an ill-bred
and ungrateful man, and the countess insists upon it he is a
downright pedant."
'Shameful, indeed," cried I; "but can you, my dear friend,
account for the ill-nature with which these ladies speak of
poor Rousseau?"
"Oh! Yes," replied the marechale, "their motives are
easily explained, and I will tell you a little secret, for
the truth of which I can vouch.
Pages:
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383