r of them declared that he knew Rousseau's style of discarding a
friend by letter so thoroughly, that he felt confident he could supply
Rousseau's place in case of illness or absence.[397] In much of this
we suspect that the quarrel was perfectly justified. Sociality meant a
futile display before unworthy and condescending curiosity. "It is not
I whom they care for," he very truly said, "but public opinion and
talk about me, without a thought of what real worth I may have." Hence
his steadfast refusal to go out to dine or sup. The mere impertinence
of the desire to see him was illustrated by some coxcombs who insisted
with a famous actress of his acquaintance, that she should invite the
strange philosopher to meet them. She was aware that no known force
would persuade Rousseau to come, so she dressed up her tailor as
philosopher, bade him keep a silent tongue, and vanish suddenly
without a word of farewell. The tailor was long philosophically
silent, and by the time that wine had loosened his tongue, the rest of
the company were too far gone to perceive that the supposed Rousseau
was chattering vulgar nonsense.[398] We can believe that with admirers
of this stamp Rousseau was well pleased to let tailors or others stand
in his place. There were some, however, of a different sort, who
flitted across his sight and then either vanished of their own accord,
or were silently dismissed, from Madame de Genlis up to Gretry and
Gluck. With Gluck he seems to have quarrelled for setting his music to
French words, when he must have known that Italian was the only tongue
fit for music.[399] Yet it was remarked that no one ever heard him
speak ill of others. His enemies, the figures of his delusion, were
vaguely denounced in many dronings, but they remained in dark shadow
and were unnamed. When Voltaire paid his famous last visit to the
capital (1778), some one thought of paying court to Rousseau by making
a mock of the triumphal reception of the old warrior, but Rousseau
harshly checked the detractor. It is true that in 1770-71 he gave to
some few of his acquaintances one or more readings of the Confessions,
although they contained much painful matter for many people still
living, among the rest for Madame d'Epinay. She wrote justifiably
enough to the lieutenant of police, praying that all such readings
might be prohibited, and it is believed that they were so
prohibited.[400]

In 1769, when Polish anarchy was at its height, as if to