“We passed the next winter at Paris. I was then twenty. I went once a week to dine with my aunt, Madame de Montesson, or with my grandmother, the Marchioness de la Haie. I saw this year, 1766, the Abbé Delille, who had just published his beautiful translation of Virgil’s ‘Georgies.’ He was at that time twenty-seven years of age. He visited me several times; he was then engaged with his translation of the ‘Æneid.’ I thought him ingenuous and amiable; he had a face of certain intelligent ugliness, which it was amusing to examine. At this time, he recited verses in a manner that was quite charming, and which belonged exclusively to himself.
“I went, in the spring, to the Isle Adam, in the Seine, where the Prince of Conti resided. He was the only one of the princes of the blood who had a taste for literature and the sciences, or who could speak in public. He was the most magnificent of our princes. Each lady that visited him had a carriage and horses at her command, and was at liberty to ask parties to 194 dine daily in her own apartments. Ceremony was reserved for the evening, but during the day you enjoyed perfect liberty. We remained here, in the midst of the most charming society, six weeks.
“I passed the next winter at Paris, in a round of dissipation; private balls, dinners, suppers, occupied most of my time. I amused myself also at home by performing with my friends little operas and comedies, which were always terminated by a concert, which was led by the famous Cramer. It was at this time that I wrote my first historical novel, founded on an anecdote in the life of Tamerlane. I read also, with inexpressible delight, some of the works of Pascal, Bossuet, and Massillon. The latter entirely entranced me. The majestic flow of his eloquence, and the sweetness and harmony of his language, have something about them which is truly divine. I also read with admiration the ‘Natural History’ of M. de Buffon: the perfection of his style enchanted me, and I studied it intensely.
“J. J. Rousseau being now in Paris, I had a great desire to see so celebrated a man. I must confess that nothing ever appeared to me so odd and fantastical as his figure and appearance, which I merely considered as a masquerade. His coat, his marron-colored stockings, his little round wig, his whole costume, his manners and deportment, were to me perfectly ludicrous. Yet I never knew a literary character more agreeable, or with less affectation. His eyes were small, and, though deep set, were very piercing. He had a most agreeable smile, full of mildness and finesse. He talked admirably of music. I found 195 afterwards that he was filled with caprice and morbid sensibility. He never accepted favors, and was offended by any offers of pecuniary aid.
“I must mention an extraordinary individual whom I constantly saw at M. de Puisieux’s—the Abbé Raynal. Never did there exist a man of talent so insupportably obstinate, so disputatious, or so unamiable in society. I likewise saw the young prince of Sweden, Gustavus III. He was agreeable and accomplished.
“For her own private interest, my aunt, Madame de Montesson, was extremely desirous that I should enter the Palais Royal, as lady of honor. M. de Genlis cared little about it, and declared that he would not consent to let me have the place, unless he was attached to the court himself. He therefore asked and obtained the post of captain of the guards of the Duke of Chartres, a station worth six thousand francs, while mine, was worth four. The society of the Palais Royal was then the most brilliant and witty in Paris. There was also no want of books, and I made constant additions to my knowledge of French literature and history. I served also as the secretary of the Duchess of Chartres. I continued to write comedies, and cultivated music with the same ardor as before. I was constantly in the habit of making extracts, in small paper books, of conversations with persons that were entertaining and instructive. I had made, when I left the Palais Royal, a selection of poetry, of one thousand verses, of various authors, some being of very ancient date.
“One day, when I was in the Garden of Plants, I had 196 the good fortune to meet M. de Buffon, who received me with great cordiality and simplicity. I afterwards met him frequently, and we spoke of nothing but literature.
“In 1774, Louis XV. died, and the unfortunate Louis XVI. mounted the throne. In the course of a journey which I took on account of ill health the next year, I went to Ferney to visit M. de Voltaire. All the busts and portraits I have seen of him are exceedingly like him; but no artist has fully expressed the eyes. They were the liveliest I ever saw; but they also had something indescribably soft and tender in their expression. His laugh and bitter smile greatly altered the expression of his face. When neither religion nor his enemies were spoken of, his conversation was simple and pleasing; but when he was opposed in the least, his manner became warm and bitter.
“About this time, I wrote many little comedies for my daughters to perform, which were very successful. I received complimentary letters from M. d’Alembert and M. de Marmontel. Some time afterwards, I had rather an intimate acquaintance with M. Gibbon, author of the ‘Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.’ M. de Voltaire came to Paris soon after this period. I went to see him, but found him quite broken down and dejected. He died in 1778.
“The time I passed at the Palais Royal was at once the most brilliant and unhappy part of my life; I was in the zenith of my talents, and at the age when a woman joins to the freshness and graces of youth all the accomplishments which habits of intercourse with the world can bestow. I was admired, praised, flattered, 197 and courted. Every Saturday, I had a concert; every Tuesday, a pleasant circle of acquaintances met at my house, and another day was set apart for conversation parties; in short, I was constantly occupied either in society, reading, or forming plans of works, since completed. I was generally beloved in the great world. So much for the brilliant side of my situation. But the malignity and hypocrisy of several persons belonging to the Palais Royal; the constantly renewed vexations; the unlooked-for calumnies, and the pretended reconciliations of which I have been so frequently the dupe; the injustice and the slanders;—all caused me the bitterest grief, which I was forced to conceal, for my situation obliged me to appear continually in society.