onveyed to his hands. I was therefore in the wrong, and he
attacked me; this, however, he did politely, and I answered in the same
manner. He replied more decidedly. This produced my last answer; after
which I heard no more from him upon the subject; but he became my most
violent enemy, took the advantage of the time of my misfortunes, to
publish against me the most indecent libels, and made a journey to London
on purpose to do me an injury.

All this controversy employed me a good deal, and caused me a great loss
of my time in my copying, without much contributing to the progress of
truth, or the good of my purse. Pissot, at that time my bookseller, gave
me but little for my pamphlets, frequently nothing at all, and I never
received a farthing for my first discourse. Diderot gave it him. I was
obliged to wait a long time for the little he gave me, and to take it
from him in the most trifling sums. Notwithstanding this, my copying
went on but slowly. I had two things together upon my hands, which was
the most likely means of doing them both ill.

They were very opposite to each other in their effects by the different
manners of living to which they rendered me subject. The success of my
first writings had given me celebrity. My new situation excited
curiosity. Everybody wished to know that whimsical man who sought not
the acquaintance of any one, and whose only desire was to live free and
happy in the manner he had chosen; this was sufficient to make the thing
impossible to me. My apartment was continually full of people, who,
under different pretences, came to take up my time. The women employed a
thousand artifices to engage me to dinner. The more unpolite I was with
people, the more obstinate they became. I could not refuse everybody.
While I made myself a thousand enemies by my refusals, I was incessantly
a slave to my complaisance, and, in whatever manner I made my
engagements, I had not an hour in a day to myself.

I then perceived it was not so easy to be poor and independent, as I had
imagined. I wished to live by my profession: the public would not suffer
me to do it. A thousand means were thought of to indemnify me for the
time I lost. The next thing would have been showing myself like Punch,
at so much each person. I knew no dependence more cruel and degrading
than this. I saw no other method of putting an end to it than refusing
all kinds of presents, great and small, let them come from