Although I have not spoken of Diderot since my return from Venice, no more than of my friend M.Roguin, I did not neglect either of them, especially the former, with whom I daily became more intimate.He had a Nanette, as well as I a Theresa; this was between us another conformity of circumstances.But my Theresa, as fine a woman as his Nanette, was of a mild and amiable character, which might gain and fix the affections of a worthy man; whereas Nanette was a vixen, a troublesome prater, and had no qualities in the eyes of others which in any measure compensated for her want of education.However he married her, which was well done of him, if he had given a promise to that effect.I, for my part, not having entered into any such engagement, was not in the least haste to imitate him.
I was also connected with the Abbe de Condillac, who had acquired no more literary fame than myself, but in whom there was every appearance of his becoming what he now is.I was perhaps the first who discovered the extent of his abilities, and esteemed them as they deserved.He on his part seemed satisfied with me, and, whilst shut up in my chamber in the Rue Jean St.Denis, near the opera-house, I composed my act of Hesiod, he sometimes came to dine with me tete-a-tete.We sent for our dinner, and paid share and share alike.He was at that time employed on his Essay on the Origin of Human Knowledge, which was his first work.When this was finished, the difficulty was to find a bookseller who would take it.The booksellers of Paris are shy of every author at his beginning, and metaphysics, not much then in vogue, were no very inviting subject.I spoke to Diderot of Condillac and his work, and I afterwards brought them acquainted with each other.They were worthy of each other's esteem, and were presently on the most friendly terms.Diderot persuaded.the bookseller, Durant, to take the manuscript from the abbe, and this great metaphysician received for his first work, and almost as a favor, a hundred crowns, which perhaps he would not have obtained without my assistance.As we lived in a quarter of the town very distant from each other, we all assembled once a week at the Palais-Royal, and went to dine at the Hotel du Panier Fleuri.These little weekly dinners must have been extremely pleasing to Diderot;for he who failed in almost all his appointments never missed one of these.At our little meeting I formed the plan of a periodical paper, entitled le Persifleur,* which Diderot and I were alternately to write.I sketched out the first sheet, and this brought me acquainted with D'Alembert, to whom Diderot had mentioned it.
Unforeseen events frustrated our intention, and the project was carried no further.
* The Jeerer.
These two authors had just undertaken the Dictionnaire Encyclopedique, which at first was intended to be nothing more than a kind of translation of Chambers', something like that of the Medical Dictionary of James, which Diderot had just finished.Diderot was desirous I should do something in this second undertaking, and proposed to me the musical part, which I accepted.This I executed in great haste, and consequently very ill, in the three months he had given me, as well as all the authors who were engaged in the work.
But I was the only person in readiness at the time prescribed.Igave him my manuscript, which I had copied by a lackey, belonging to M.de Francueil of the name of Dupont, who wrote very well.I paid him ten crowns out of my own pocket, and these have never been reimbursed me.Diderot had promised me a retribution on the part of the booksellers, of which he has never since spoken to me nor I to him.
This undertaking of the Encyclopedie was interrupted by his imprisonment.The Penses Philosophiquies,* drew upon him some temporary inconvenience which had no disagreeable consequences.He did not come off so easily on account of the Lettre sur les Aveugles,*(2) in which there was nothing reprehensible, but some personal attacks with which Madam du Pre St.Maur, and M.de Reaumur were displeased: for this he was confined in the dungeon of Vincennes.
Nothing can describe the anguish I felt on account of the misfortune of my friend.My wretched imagination, which always sees everything in the worst light, was terrified.I imagined him to be confined for the remainder of his life: I was almost distracted with the thought.Iwrote to Madam de Pompadour, beseeching her to release him or obtain an order to shut me up in the same dungeon.I received no answer to my letter: this was too reasonable to be efficacious, and I do not flatter myself that it contributed to the alleviation which, some time afterwards, was granted to the severities of the confinement of poor Diderot.Had this continued for any length of time with the same rigor, I verily believe I should have died in despair at the foot of the hated dungeon.However, if my letter produced but little effect, Idid not on account of it attribute to myself much merit, for Imentioned it but to very few people, and never to Diderot himself.
* Philosophical Thoughts.
*(2) Letter concerning blind persons.
End of Book VII