He received me cordially. Everything in his dress and in his manners was of the utmost simplicity. He had that contented demeanour which one only meets with in men who labour assiduously without being compelled.
He read Father Féval’s letter, and remarked—
“This is a satisfactory letter of recommendation, but what are your acquirements?”
I replied that I was acquainted with Latin, a little Greek, ancient history, rhetoric, and poetry.
“What a list of accomplishments!” he rejoined, smiling. “But it would have been more to the point if you had had some notion of agriculture, the mechanical arts, commerce, banking, and industry. You are acquainted with the laws of Solon, now, I’ll wager?”
I signified that I was.
“Very good, very good. But you know nothing about the English constitution. But no matter. You are young, and of an age to acquire knowledge. I will give you a place about my person, with an allowance of five hundred écus. Monsieur Mille, my secretary, will instruct you as to the duties I shall expect you to perform. Au revoir, monsieur.”
A lackey conducted me to Monsieur Mille, who was writing at a table in the middle of a spacious white apartment. He signalled to me to wait. He was a little roundabout man, and his appearance was pleasant, but he rolled his eyes about ferociously, and seemed to be scolding under his breath as he wrote.
I heard him give utterance to the following words: “Tyrants, fetters, hell, man, Rome, slavery, liberty.”[[6]] I concluded he was mad. But when he had laid his pen aside he nodded his head to me and smiled.