This is, perhaps, the only time that, listening to inclination, Iwas not deceived in my expectations.The easy access, obliging temper, and free humor of this country, rendered a commerce with the world agreeable, and the inclination I then felt for it, proves to me, that if I have a dislike for society, it is more their fault than mine.It is a pity the Savoyards are not rich: though, perhaps, it would be a still greater pity if they were so, for altogether they are the best, the most sociable people that I know, and if there is a little city in the world where the pleasures of life are experienced in an agreeable and friendly commerce, it is at Chambery.The gentry of the province who assemble there have only sufficient wealth to live and not enough to spoil them; they cannot give way to ambition, but follow, through necessity, the counsel of Cyneas, devoting their youth to a military employment, and returning home to grow old in peace;an arrangement over which honor and reason equally preside.The women are handsome, yet do not stand in need of beauty, since they possess all those qualifications which enhance its value and even supply the want of it.It is remarkable, that being obliged by my profession to see a number of young girls, I do not recollect one at Chambery but what was charming: it will be said I Was disposed to find them so, and perhaps there may be some truth in the surmise.Icannot remember my young scholars without pleasure.Why, in naming the most amiable, cannot I recall them and myself also to that happy age in which our moments, pleasing as innocent, were passed with such happiness together? The first was Mademoiselle de Mallarede, my neighbor, and sister to a pupil of Monsieur Gaime.She was a fine clear brunette, lively and graceful, without giddiness; thin as girls of that age usually are; but her bright eyes, fine shape, and easy air, rendered her sufficiently pleasing with that degree of plumpness which would have given a heightening to her charms.I went there of mornings, when she was usually in her dishabille, her hair carelessly turned up, and, on my arrival, ornamented with a flower, which was taken off at my departure for her hair to be dressed.
There is nothing I fear so much as a pretty woman in an elegant dishabille; I should dread them a hundred times less in full dress.
Mademoiselle de Menthon, whom I attended in the afternoon, was ever so.She made an equally pleasing, but quite different impression on me.Her hair was flaxen, her person delicate, she was very timid and extremely fair, had a clear voice, capable of just modulation, but which she had not courage to employ to its full extent.She had the mark of a scald on her bosom, which a scanty piece of blue chenille did not entirely cover, this scar sometimes drew my attention, though not absolutely on its own account.Mademoiselle des Challes, another of my neighbors, was a woman grown, tall, well-formed, jolly, very pleasing though not a beauty, and might be quoted for her gracefulness, equal temper, and good humor.Her sister, Madam de Charley, the handsomest woman of Chambery, did not learn music, but I taught her daughter, who was yet young, but whose growing beauty promised to equal her mother's, if she had not unfortunately been a little red-haired.I had likewise among my scholars a little French lady, whose name I have forgotten, but who merits a place in my list of preferences.She had adopted the slow drawling tone of the nuns, in which voice she would utter some very keen things, which did not in the least appear to correspond with her manner; but she was indolent, and could not generally take pains to show her wit, that being a favor she did not grant to every one.When with my scholars, Iwas fond enough of teaching, but could not bear the idea of being obliged to attend at a particular hour; constraint and subjection in every shape are to me insupportable, and alone sufficient to make me hate even pleasure itself.I am told that it is custom among the Mohammedans to have a man pass through the streets at daybreak, and cry out: "Husbands, do your duty to your wives." I should only make a poor Turk at this particular hour.
Among other scholars which I had, there was one who was the indirect cause of a change of relationship, which I must relate in its place.
She was the daughter of a grocer, and was called Mademoiselle de Larnage, a perfect model for a Grecian statue, and whom I should quote for the handsomest girl I have ever seen, if true beauty could exist without life or soul.Her indolence, reserve, and insensibility were inconceivable; it was equally impossible to please or make her angry, and I am convinced that had any one formed a design upon her virtue, he might have succeeded, not through her inclination, but from her stupidity.Her mother, who would run no risk of this, did not leave her a single moment.In having her taught to sing and providing a young master, she had hoped to enliven her, but it all proved ineffectual.While the master was admiring the daughter, the mother was admiring the master, but this was equally lost labor.Madam de Larnage added to her natural vivacity that portion of sprightliness which should have belonged to the daughter.She was a little, ugly, lively trollop, with small twinkling ferret eyes, and marked with smallpox.On my arrival in the morning, I always found my coffee and cream ready, and the mother never failed to welcome me with a kiss on the lips, which I would willingly have returned the daughter, to see how she would have received it.All this was done with such an air of carelessness and simplicity, that even when M.de Larnage was present, her kisses and caresses were not omitted.He was a good quiet fellow, the true original of his daughter; nor did his wife endeavor to deceive him, because there was absolutely no occasion for it.