ational language and
translate it into Tuscan and French. In the same manner I pass in review
all the words which follow in the alphabetical order, and I am sure to
fall asleep at the third or fourth version. My recipe has never once
failed me. It is not difficult to demonstrate the cause and effect of
this phenomenon. A painful idea requires to be replaced by an opposite
or indifferent idea; and the agitation of the mind once calmed, the
senses become tranquil and are deadened by sleep.

But this remedy, however excellent, might not be useful to every one. A
man of too keen and feeling a disposition would not succeed. The
temperament must be such as that with which nature has favored me. My
moral qualities bear a resemblance to my physical: I dread neither cold
nor heat, and I neither allow myself to be inflamed by rage nor
intoxicated by joy....

I am now arrived at the year 1787, which is the eightieth of my age, and
that to which I have limited the course of my Memoirs. I have completed
my eightieth year; my work is also finished. All is over, and I proceed
to send my volumes to the press. This last chapter does not therefore
touch on the events of the current year; but I have still some duties to
discharge. I must begin with returning thanks to those persons who have
reposed so much confidence in me as to honor me with their
subscriptions.

I do not speak of the kindness and favors of the King and court; this is
not the place to mention them. I have named in my work some of my
friends and even some of my protectors. I beg pardon of them: if I have
done so without their permission, it is not through vanity; the occasion
has suggested it; their names have dropped from my pen, the heart has
seized on the instant, and the hand has not been unwilling. For example,
the following is one of the fortunate occasions I allude to. I was
unwell a few days ago; the Count Alfieri did me the honor to call on me;
I knew his talents, but his conversation impressed on me the wrong
which I should have done in omitting him. He is a very intelligent and
learned literary man, who principally excels in the art of Sophocles and
Euripides, and after these great models he has framed his tragedies.
They have gone through two editions in Italy, and are at present in the
press of Didot at Paris. I shall enter into no details respecting them,
as they may be seen and judged of by every one.

During my convalescence M. Caccia, a banker in Pari