In respect of the light companionship of common usage, however, it is
exactly the costume which comes closest to us, and bad taste in that is
most jarring and least easily forgiven. There is a certain stage in an
observant person's experience of the heedlessness, indolence, and native
folly of men and women--and if his observation be conducted in a
catholic spirit, he will probably see something of this not merely in
others--when the tolerable average sanity of human arrangements strikes
him as the most marvellous of all the fortunate accidents in the
universe. Rousseau could not even accept the fact of this miraculous
result, the provisional and temporary sanity of things, and he
confronted society with eyes of angry chagrin. A great lady asked him
how it was that she had not seen him for an age. "Because when I wish to
see you, I wish to see no one but you. What do you want me to do in the
midst of your society? I should cut a sorry figure in a circle of
mincing tripping coxcombs; they do not suit me." We cannot wonder that
on some occasion when her son's proficiency was to be tested before a
company of friends, Madame d'Epinay prayed Rousseau to be of them, on
the ground that he would be sure to ask the child outrageously absurd
questions, which would give gaiety to the affair.[219] As it happened,
the father was unwise. He was a man of whom it was said that he had
devoured two million francs, without either saying or doing a single
good thing. He rewarded the child's performance with the gift of a
superb suit of cherry-coloured velvet, extravagantly trimmed with costly
lace; the peasant from whose sweat and travail the money had been wrung,
went in heavy rags, and his children lived as the beasts of the field.
The poor youth was ill dealt with. "That is very fine," said rude
Duclos, "but remember that a fool in lace is still a fool." Rousseau, in
reply to the child's importunity, was still blunter: "Sir, I am no judge
of finery, I am only a judge of man; I wished to talk with you a little
while ago, but I wish so no longer."[220]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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