onths, and was obliged to leave it, I still fixed my residence in
the country. The Coterie insisted this was from a motive of pure
obstinacy, and that I was weary even to death of my retirement; but that,
eaten up with pride, I chose rather to become a victim of my stubbornness
than to recover from it and return to Paris. The letter to D'Alembert
breathed a gentleness of mind which every one perceived not to be
affected. Had I been dissatisfied with my retreat, my style and manner
would have borne evident marks of my ill-humor. This reigned in all the
works I had written in Paris; but in the first I wrote in the country not
the least appearance of it was to be found. To persons who knew how to
distinguish, this remark was decisive. They perceived I was returned to
my element.

Yet the same work, notwithstanding all the mildness it breathed, made me
by a mistake of my own and my usual ill-luck, another enemy amongst men
of letters. I had become acquainted with Marmontel at the house of M. de
la Popliniere, and his acquaintance had been continued at that of the
baron. Marmontel at that time wrote the 'Mercure de France'. As I had
too much pride to send my works to the authors of periodical
publications, and wishing to send him this without his imagining it was
in consequence of that title, or being desirous he should speak of it in
the Mercure, I wrote upon the book that it was not for the author of the
Mercure, but for M. Marmontel. I thought I paid him a fine compliment;
he mistook it for a cruel offence, and became my irreconcilable enemy.
He wrote against the letter with politeness, it is true, but with a
bitterness easily perceptible, and since that time has never lost an
opportunity of injuring me in society, and of indirectly ill-treating me
in his works. Such difficulty is there in managing the irritable
self-love of men of letters, and so careful ought every person to be
not to leave anything equivocal in the compliments they pay them.

Having nothing more to disturb me, I took advantage of my leisure and
independence to continue my literary pursuits with more coherence. I
this winter finished my Eloisa, and sent it to Rey, who had it printed
the year following. I was, however, interrupted in my projects by a
circumstance sufficiently disagreeable. I heard new preparations were
making at the opera-house to give the 'Devin du Village'. Enraged at
seeing these people arrogantly dispose of my property