nothing was said.  Government seemed to fear it should be obliged to take some steps which circumstances rendered necessary on account of my imprudence.  Rumors to this effect reached my ears, but gave me not much uneasiness:  it never even came into my head, that there could be the least thing in the whole affair which related to me personally, so perfectly irreproachable and well supported did I think myself; having besides conformed to every ministerial regulation, I did not apprehend Madam de Luxembourg would leave me in difficulties for an error, which, if it existed, proceeded entirely from herself.  But knowing the manner of proceeding in like cases, and that it was customary to punish booksellers while authors were favored; I had some uneasiness on account of poor Duchesne, whom I saw exposed to danger, should M. de Malesherbes abandon him.

My tranquility still continued.  Rumors increased and soon changed their nature.  The public, and especially the parliament, seemed irritated by my composure.  In a few days the fermentation became terrible, and the object of the menaces being changed, these were immediately addressed to me.  The parliamentarians were heard to declare that burning books was of no effect, the authors also should be burned with them; not a word was said of the booksellers.  The first time these expressions, more worthy of an inquisitor of Goa than a senator, were related to me, I had no doubt of their coming from the Holbachiques with an intention to alarm me and drive me from France.  I laughed at their puerile manoeuvre, and said they would, had they known the real state of things, have thought of some other means of inspiring me with fear; but the rumor at length became such that I perceived the matter was serious.  M. and Madam de Luxembourg had this year come to Montmorency in the month of June, which, for their second journey, was more early than common.  I heard but little there of my new books, notwithstanding the noise they made in Paris; neither the marechal nor his lady said a single word to me on the subject.  However, one morning, when M. de Luxembourg and I were together, he asked me if, in the ‘Social Contract’, I had spoken ill of M. de Choiseul.  “I?” said I, retreating a few steps with surprise; “no, I swear to you I have not; but on the contrary, I have made on him, and with a pen not given to praise, the finest eulogium a minister ever received.”  I then showed him the passage.  “And in Emilius?” replied he.  “Not a word,” said I; “there is not in it a single word which relates to him.”—­“Ah!” said he, with more vivacity than was common to him, “you should have taken the same care in the other book, or have expressed yourself more clearly!” “I thought,” replied I, “what I wrote could not be misconstrued; my esteem for him was such as to make me extremely cautious not to be equivocal.”

He was again going to speak; I perceived him ready to open his mind:  he stopped short and held his tongue.  Wretched policy of a courtier, which in the best of hearts, subjugates friendship itself!