Though she had seen the court but superficially, that glance was sufficient to give her a competent idea of it; and notwithstanding secret jealousies and the murmurs excited by her conduct and running in debt, she ever preserved friends there, and never lost her pension.
She knew the world, and was possessed of sense and reflection to make her experience useful.This was her favorite theme in our conversations, and was directly opposite to my chimerical ideas, though the kind of instruction I particularly had occasion for.We read Bruyere together; he pleased her more than Rochefoucault, who is a dull, melancholy author, particularly to youth, who are not fond of contemplating man as he really is.In moralizing she sometimes bewildered herself by the length of her discourse; but by kissing her lips or hand from time to time I was easily consoled, and never found them wearisome.
This life was too delightful to be lasting; I felt this, and the uneasiness that thought gave me was the only thing that disturbed my enjoyment.Even in playfulness she studied my disposition, observed and interrogated me, forming projects for my future fortune, which Icould readily have dispensed with.Happily it was not sufficient to know my disposition, inclinations, and talents; it was likewise necessary to find a situation in which they would be useful, and this was not the work of a day.Even the prejudices this good woman had conceived in favor of my merit put off the time of calling it into action, by rendering her more difficult in the choice of means: thus (thanks to the good opinion she entertained of me), everything answered to my wish; but a change soon happened which put a period to my tranquility.
A relation of Madam de Warrens, named M.d'Aubonne, came to see her:
a man of great understanding and intrigue, being, like her, fond of projects, though careful not to ruin himself by them.He had offered Cardinal Fleury a very compact plan for a lottery, which, however, had not been approved of, and he was now going to propose it to the court of Turin, where it was accepted and put into execution.He remained some time at Annecy, where he fell in love with the Intendant's lady, who was very amiable, much to my taste, and the only person I saw with pleasure at the house of Madam de Warrens.M.
d'Aubonne saw me, I was strongly recommended by his relation; he promised, therefore, to question and see what I was fit for, and, if he found me capable to seek me a situation.Madam de Warrens sent me to him two or three mornings, under pretense of messages, without acquainting me with her real intention.He spoke to me gayly, on various subjects, without any appearance of observation; his familiarity presently set me talking, which by his cheerful and jesting manner he encouraged without restraint- I was absolutely charmed with him.The result of his observations was, that withstanding the animation of my countenance, and promising exterior, if not absolutely silly, I was a lad of very little sense, and without ideas of learning; in fine, very ignorant in all respects, and if I could arrive at being curate of some village, it was the utmost honor I ought ever to aspire to.Such was the account he gave of me to Madam de Warrens.This was not the first time such an opinion had been formed of me, neither was it the last; the judgment of M.
Masseron having been repeatedly confirmed.
The cause of these opinions is too much connected with my character not to need a particular explanation; for it will not be supposed that I can in conscience subscribe to them: and with all possible impartiality, whatever M.Masseron, M.d'Aubonne and many others may have said, I cannot help thinking them mistaken.
Two things, very opposite, unite in me, and in a manner which Icannot myself conceive.My disposition is extremely ardent, my passions lively and impetuous, yet my ideas are produced slowly, with great embarrassment and after much afterthought.It might be said my heart and understanding do not belong to the same individual.Asentiment takes possession of my soul with the rapidity of lightning, but instead of illuminating, it dazzles and confounds me; Ifeel all, but see nothing; I am warm, but stupid; to think I must be cool.What is astonishing, my conception is clear and penetrating, if not hurried: I can make excellent impromptus at leisure, but on the instant, could never say or do anything worth notice.I could hold a tolerable conversation by the post, as they say the Spaniards play at chess, and when I read that anecdote of a duke of Savoy, who turned himself round, while on a journey, to cry out a votre gorge, marchand de Paris! I said, "Here is a trait of my character!"This slowness of thought, joined to vivacity of feeling, I am not only sensible of in conversation, but even alone.When I write, my ideas are arranged with the utmost difficulty.They glance on my imagination and ferment till they discompose, heat, and bring on a palpitation; during this state of agitation, I see nothing properly, cannot write a single word, and must wait till it is over.
Insensibly the agitation subsides, the chaos acquires form, and each circumstance takes its proper place.Have you never seen an opera in Italy? where during the change of scene everything is in confusion, the decorations are intermingled, and any one would suppose that all would be overthrown; yet by little and little, everything is arranged, nothing appears wanting, and we feel surprised to see the tumult succeeded by the most delightful spectacle.This is a resemblance of what passes in my brain when I attempt to write; had I always waited till that confusion was past, and then pointed, in their natural beauties, the objects that had presented themselves, few authors would have surpassed me.
