y extravagant in his
eulogium, by which he intended it should be understood it could not be my
composition. He showed signs of impatience at every passage: but after a
counter tenor song, the air of which was noble and harmonious, with a
brilliant accompaniment, he could no longer contain himself; he
apostrophised me with a brutality at which everybody was shocked,
maintaining that a part of what he had heard was by a man experienced in
the art, and the rest by some ignorant person who did not so much as
understand music. It is true my composition, unequal and without rule,
was sometimes sublime, and at others insipid, as that of a person who
forms himself in an art by the soarings of his own genius, unsupported by
science, must necessarily be. Rameau pretended to see nothing in me but
a contemptible pilferer, without talents or taste. The rest of the
company, among whom I must distinguish the master of the house, were of a
different opinion. M. de Richelieu, who at that time frequently visited
M. and Madam de la Popliniere, heard them speak of my work, and wished to
hear the whole of it, with an intention, if it pleased him, to have it
performed at court. The opera was executed with full choruses, and by a
great orchestra, at the expense of the king, at M. de Bonneval's
intendant of the Menus; Francoeur directed the band. The effect was
surprising: the duke never ceased to exclaim and applaud; and, at the end
of one of the choruses, in the act of Tasso, he arose and came to me,
and, pressing my hand, said: "M. Rousseau, this is transporting harmony.
I never heard anything finer. I will get this performed at Versailles."

Madam de la Poliniere, who was present, said not a word. Rameau,
although invited, refused to come. The next day, Madam de la Popliniere
received me at her toilette very ungraciously, affected to undervalue my
piece, and told me, that although a little false glitter had at first
dazzled M. de Richelieu, he had recovered from his error, and she advised
me not to place the least dependence upon my opera. The duke arrived
soon after, and spoke to me in quite a different language. He said very
flattering things of my talents, and seemed as much disposed as ever to
have my composition performed before the king. "There is nothing," said
he, "but the act of Tasso which cannot pass at court: you must write
another." Upon this single word I shut myself up in my apartment; and in
three weeks produce