And so it happened on the evening in question; one couplet had
particularly excited the discontent of the spectators, male and
female; I know not what prophetic spirit inspired the lines.
The unfortunate couplet was productive of much offence against
the husband and lover of madame Favart, for the greater part of
the persons present perfectly detested my poor cousin, who was
"to clip the wings of chicanery." Favart managed to escape just
in time, and the abbe de Voisenon, who was already not in very
high favour with his judges, was compelled to endure the full
weight of their complaints and reproaches; every voice was
against him, and even his brethren of the French academy, departing
from their accustomed indulgence upon such matters, openly
reprimanded him for the grossness of his flattery; the poor abbe
attempted to justify himself by protesting that he knew nothing
of the hateful couplet, and that Favart alone was the guilty
person upon whom they should expend their anger.
"I am always," cried he, "doomed to suffer for the offences of
others; every kind of folly is made a present to me."
"Have a care, monsieur l' abbe," exclaimed d'Alembert, who was
among the guests, "have a care! men seldom lavish their gifts
but upon those who are rich enough to return the original present
in a tenfold degree." This somewhat sarcastic remark was most
favourably received by all who heard it, it quickly circulated
through the room, while the poor, oppressed abbe protested,
with vehement action.
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