I sometimes dined with her. I met
at her table several men of letters, amongst others M. Saurin, the
author of Spartacus, Barnevelt, etc., since become my implacable
enemy; for no other reason, at least that I can imagine, than my
bearing the name of a man whom his father has cruelly persecuted.
It will appear that for a copyist, who ought to be employed in his
business from morning till night, I had many interruptions, which
rendered my days not very lucrative and prevented me from being
sufficiently attentive to what I did to do it well; for which
reason, half the time I had to myself was lost in erasing errors or
beginning my sheet anew. This daily importunity rendered Paris more
unsupportable, and made me ardently wish to be in the country. I
several times went to pass a few days at Marcoussis, the vicar of
which was known to Madam le Vasseur, and with whom we all arranged
ourselves in such a manner as not to make things disagreeable to
him. Grimm once went thither with us.* The vicar had a tolerable
voice, sung well, and, although he did not read music, learned his
part with great facility and precision. We passed our time in
singing the trios I had composed at Chenonceaux. To these I added
two or three new ones, to the words Grimm and the vicar wrote, well or
ill. I cannot refrain from regretting these trios composed and sung in
moments of pure joy, and which I left at Wootton, with all my music.
Mademoiselle Davenport has perhaps curled her hair with them; but they
are worthy of being preserved, and are, for the most part, of very
good counterpoint.
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