g 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-tete were less agreeable than our reunion. What banished every
species of constraint from our little community, was a lively reciprocal
confidence, and dulness 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 crossed; 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
over-grown 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, I used to employ myself in
making laces with my neighbors, and were I again to mix with the world,
I would always carry a cup-and-ball in my pocket; I should sometimes play
with it the whole day, that I might not be constrained to speak when I
had nothing to discourse about; and I am persuaded,