son had already
destroyed all, or nearly all, the basis on which his morality rested.
He surrendered the natural and indispensable safeguards of his happiness
for sophisms which deserted him at the critical moment, and he was
consequently left to the operation of any specious argument which came
in his way.

"Perhaps the hand of a friend might yet have been in time to extricate
him from this abyss; but, besides that I did not become acquainted with
the real character of the Bucentauro till long after the evil had taken
place, an urgent circumstance called me away from Venice just at the
beginning of this period. Lord Seymour, too, a valuable acquaintance of
the prince, whose cool understanding was proof against every species of
deception, and who would have infallibly been a secure support to him,
left us at this time in order to return to his native country. Those in
whose hands I left the prince were indeed worthy men, but inexperienced,
excessively narrow in their religious opinions, deficient in their
perception of the evil, and wanting in credit with the prince. They had
nothing to oppose to his captious sophisms except the maxims of a blind
and uninquiring faith, which either irritated him or excited his
ridicule. He saw through them too easily, and his superior reason soon
silenced those weak defenders of the good cause, as will be clearly
evinced from an instance which I shall introduce in the sequel. Those
who, subsequent to this, possessed themselves of his confidence, were
much more interested in plunging him deeper into error. When I returned
to Venice in the following year how great a change had already taken
place in everything!

"The influence of this new philosophy soon showed itself in the prince's
conduct. The more openly he pursued pleasure, and acquired new friends,
the more did he lose in the estimation of his old ones. He pleased me
less and less every day; we saw each other more seldom, and indeed he
was seldom accessible. He had launched out into the torrent of the
great world. His threshold was eternally thronged when he was at home.
Amusements, banquets, and galas followed each other in rapid succession.
He was the idol whom every one courted, the great attraction of every
circle. In proportion as he, in his secluded life, had fancied living
in society to be difficult, did he to his astonishment find it easy.
Everything met his wishes. Whatever he uttered was admirable, and when
he remained s