When next I saw the duc d’Aiguillon, I could not refrain from relating to him all that had happened. My recital inspired him with the most lively curiosity to see Rousseau, whom he had never met in society. It was then agreed, that when I went to fetch my music he should accompany me, disguised in a similar manner to myself, and that I should pass him off as my uncle. At the end of the eight days I repaired early as before to Paris; the duke was not long in joining me there. He was so inimitably well disguised, that no person would ever have detected the most elegant nobleman of the court of France beneath the garb of a plain country squire. We set out laughing like simpletons at the easy air with which he wore his new costume; nevertheless our gaiety disappeared as we reached the habitation of J. J. Rousseau. Spite of ourselves we were compelled to honour and respect the man of talent and genius, who preferred independence of ideas to riches, and before whom rank and power were compelled to lay aside their unmeaning trappings ere they could reach his presence. When we reached the fifth landing-place I rang, and this time the door was opened by Thérèse, who told us M Rousseau was out.
“But, madam,” answered I, “I am here by the direction of your husband to fetch away the music he has been engaged in copying for me.”
“Ah, madam,” exclaimed she, “is it you? I did not recollect you again; pray walk in. M. Rousseau will be sure to be at home for you.”
“So, then,” thought I, “even genius has its visiting lists.” We entered; Jean Jacques formally saluted us, and invited us to be seated. He then gave me my music; I inquired what it came to; he consulted a little memorandum which lay upon the table, and replied, “So many pages, so much paper, eighteen livres twelve sous;” which, of course, I instantly paid. The duc d’Aiguillon, whom I styled my uncle, was endeavoring to lead Rousseau into conversation, when the outer bell rang. Thérèse went to open the door, and a gentleman entered, of mature age, although still preserving his good looks. The duke regarded him in silence and immediately made signs for me to hasten our departure; I obeyed, and took leave of Rousseau, with many thanks his punctuality. He accompanied us as before to door, and there I quitted him never to see him more. As we were descending the staircase, M. d’Aiguillon told me that the person who had so hastened our departure was Duclas, and that his hurry to quit Rousseau arose from his dread of being recognised by him. Although M. Duclas was a very excellent man, I must own that I owed no small grudge for a visit which had thus abridged ours.
In the evening the duc d’Aiguillon and myself related to the king our morning’s pilgrimage. I likewise recounted my former visit, which I had concealed until now. Louis XV seemed greatly interested with the recital of it; he asked me a thousand questions, and would fain hear the most trifling particulars.
“I shall never forget,” said Louis XV, “the amazing success obtained by his ‘Devin du Village.’ There certainly were some beautiful airs”, and the king began to hum over the song of
“J’ai perdu tout mon bonheur.”
“Yes, madam,” continued his majesty, “I promise you, that had Rousseau after his success chosen to step forward as a candidate for public favour, he would soon have overthrown Voltaire.”
“Pardon me,” replied I; “but I cannot believe that would have been possible under any circumstances.”
“And why not?” asked the king; “he was a man of great talent.”