Whilst the performance of the Devin du Village was continued at the opera-house, the author of it had advantageous negotiation with the managers of the French comedy.Not having, during seven or eight years, been able to get my Narcissus performed at the Italian theater, I had, by the bad performance in French of the actors, become disgusted with it, and should rather have had my piece received at the French theater than by them.I mentioned this to La Noue, the comedian, with whom I had become acquainted, and who, as everybody knows, was a man of merit and an author.He was pleased with the piece, and promised to get it performed without suffering the name of the author to be known; and in the meantime procured me the freedom of the theater, which was extremely agreeable to me, for I always preferred it to the two others.The piece was favorably received, and without the author's name being mentioned; but I have reason to believe it was known to the actors and actresses, and many other persons.Mademoiselles Gaussin and Grandval played the amorous parts; and although the whole performance was, in my opinion, injudicious, the piece could not be said to be absolutely ill played.The indulgence of the public, for which I felt gratitude, surprised me; the audience had the patience to listen to it from the beginning to the end, and to permit a second representation without showing the least sign of disapprobation.For my part, I was so wearied with the first, that I could not hold out to the end; and the moment I left the theater, I went into the Cafe de Procope, where I found Boissi, and others of my acquaintance, who had probably been as much fatigued as myself.I there humbly or haughtily avowed myself the author of the piece, judging it as everybody else had done.This public avowal of an author of a piece which had not succeeded, was much admired, and was by no means painful to myself.My self-love was flattered by the courage with which I made it: and I am of opinion, that, on this occasion, there was more pride in speaking, than there would have been foolish shame in being silent.However, as it was certain the piece, although insipid in the performance, would bear to be read, I had it printed: and in the preface, which is one of the best things I ever wrote, I began to make my principles more public than I had before done.
I soon had an opportunity to explain them entirely in a work of the greatest importance: for it was, I think, this year, 1753, that the Programme of the Academy of Dijon upon the Origin of the Inequality of Mankind made its appearance.Struck with this great question, I was surprised the academy had dared to propose it: but since it had shown sufficient courage to do it, I thought I might venture to treat it, and immediately undertook the discussion.
That I might consider this grand subject more at my ease, I went to St.Germain for seven or eight days with Theresa, our hostess, who was a good kind of woman, and one of her friends.I consider this walk as one of the most agreeable ones I ever took.The weather was very fine.These good women took upon themselves all the care and expense.Theresa amused herself with them; and I, free from all domestic concerns, diverted myself, without restraint, at the hours of dinner and supper.All the rest of the day wandering in the forest, I sought for and found there the image of the primitive ages of which I boldly traced the history.I confounded the pitiful lies of men; I dared to unveil their nature; to follow the progress of time, and the things by which it has been disfigured; and comparing the man of art with the natural man, to show them, in their pretended improvement, the real source of all their misery.My mind, elevated by these contemplations, ascended to the Divinity, and thence, seeing my fellow creatures follow in the blind track of their prejudices that of their errors and misfortunes, I cried out to them, in a feeble voice, which they could not hear: "Madmen! know that all your evils proceed from yourselves!"From these meditations resulted the discourse on Inequality, a work more to the taste of Diderot than any of my other writings, and in which his advice was of the greatest service to me.* It was, however, understood but by few readers, and not one of these would ever speak of it.I had written it to become a competitor for the premium, and sent it away fully persuaded it would not obtain it; well convinced it was not for productions of this nature that academies were founded.
* At the time I wrote this I had not the least suspicion of the grand conspiracy of Diderot and Grimm, otherwise I should easily have discovered how much the former abused my confidence, by giving to my writings that severity and melancholy which were not to be found in them from the moments he ceased to direct me.The passage of the philosopher, who argues with himself, and stops his ears against the complaints of a man in distress, is after his manner: and he gave me others still more extraordinary, which I could never resolve to make use of.But, attributing this melancholy to that he had acquired in the dungeon of Vincennes, and of which there is a very sufficient dose in his Clairval, I never once suspected the least unfriendly dealing.
