practice, I made but very little progress, and could never attempt fencing with any but my master.My wrist was not supple enough, nor my arm sufficiently firm to retain the foil, whenever he chose to make it fly out of my hand.Add to this, I had a mortal aversion both to the art itself and to the person who undertook to teach it to me, nor should I ever have imagined, that any one could have been so proud of the science of sending men out of the world.To bring his vast genius within the compass of my comprehension, he explained himself by comparisons drawn from music, which he understood nothing of.He found striking analogies between a hit in quarte or tierce with the intervals of music which bear those names: when he made a feint, he cried out, "Take care of this diesis," because anciently they called the diesis a feint: and when he had made the foil fly from my hand, he would add, with a sneer, that this was a pause: in a word, I never in my life saw a more insupportable pedant.
I made, therefore, but little progress in my exercises, which Ipresently quitted from pure disgust; but I succeeded better in an art of a thousand times more value, namely, that of being content with my situation, and not desiring one more brilliant, for which I began to be persuaded that Nature had not designed me.Given up to the endeavor of rendering Madam de Warrens happy, I was ever best pleased when in her company, and, notwithstanding my fondness for music, began to grudge the time I employed in giving lessons to my scholars.
I am ignorant whether Anet perceived the full extent of our union;but I am inclined to think he was no stranger to it.He was a young man of great penetration, and still greater discretion; who never belied his sentiments, but did not always speak them: without giving me the least hint that he was acquainted with our intimacy, he appeared by his conduct to be so; nor did this moderation proceed from baseness of soul, but, having entered entirely into the principles of his mistress, he could not reasonably disapprove of the natural consequences of them.Though as young as herself, he was so grave and thoughtful, that he looked on us as two children who required indulgence, and we regarded him as a respectable man, whose esteem we had to preserve.It was not until after she was unfaithful to Anet, that I learned the strength of her attachment to him.She was fully sensible that I only thought, felt, or lived for her; she let me see, therefore, how much she loved Anet, that I might love him likewise, and dwelt less on her friendship, than on her esteem, for him, because this was the sentiment that I could most fully partake of.How often has she affected our hearts and made us embrace with tears, by assuring us that we were both necessary to her happiness!
Let not women read this with an ill-natured smile; with the temperament she possessed, this necessity was not equivocal, it was only that of the heart.
Thus there was established, among us three, a union without example, perhaps, on the face of the earth.All our wishes, our cares, our very hearts, were for each other, and absolutely confined to this little.
circle.The habit of living together, and living exclusively from the rest of the world, became so strong, that if at our repasts one of the three was wanting, or a fourth person came in, everything seemed deranged; and, notwithstanding our particular attachments, even our tete-a-tetes were less agreeable than our reunion.What banished every species of constraint from our little community, was a lively reciprocal confidence, and dullness or insipidity could find no place among us, because we were always fully employed.Madam de Warrens, always projecting, always busy, left us no time for idleness, though, indeed, we had each sufficient employment on our own account.It is my maxim, that idleness is as much the pest of society as of solitude.Nothing more contracts.the mind, or engenders more tales, mischief, gossiping, and lies, than for people to be eternally shut up in the same apartment together, and reduced, from the want of employment, to the necessity of an incessant chat.When every one is busy (unless you have really something to say), you may continue silent; but if you have nothing to do, you must absolutely speak continually, and this, in my mind, is the most burdensome and the most dangerous constraint.I will go further, and maintain, that to render company harmless, as well as agreeable, it is necessary, not only that they should have something to do; but something that requires a degree of attention.
Knitting, for instance, is absolutely as bad as doing nothing; you must take as much pains to amuse a woman whose fingers are thus employed, as if she sat with her arms across; but let her embroider, and it is a different matter; she is then so far busied, that a few intervals of silence may be borne with.What is most disgusting and ridiculous, during these intermissions of conversation, is to see, perhaps, a dozen overgrown fellows, get up, sit down again, walk backwards and forwards, turn on their heels, play with the chimney ornaments, and rack their brains to maintain an inexhaustible chain of words: what a charming occupation! Such people, wherever they go, must be troublesome both to others and themselves.When I was at Motiers, Iused to employ myself in making laces with my neighbors, and were Iagain to mix with the world, I would always carry a cup-and-ball in my pocket; I would sometimes play with it the whole day, that I might not be constrained to speak when I had nothing to discourse about; and Iam persuaded, that if every one would do the same, mankind would be less mischievous, their company would become more rational, and, in my opinion, a vast deal more agreeable: in a word, let wits laugh if they please, but I maintain, that the only practical lesson of morality within the reach of the present age, is that of the cup-and-ball.
