become a slave to it in everything.  To be always consistent with myself, I ought not to blush, in any place whatever, at being dressed in a manner suitable to the state I have chosen.  My exterior appearance is simple, but neither dirty nor slovenly; nor is a beard either of these in itself, because it is given us by nature, and according to time, place and custom, is sometimes an ornament.  People think I am ridiculous, nay, even absurd; but what signifies this to me?  I ought to know how to bear censure and ridicule, provided I do not deserve them.”  After this little soliloquy I became so firm that, had it been necessary, I could have been intrepid.  But whether it was the effect of the presence of his majesty, or the natural disposition of those about me, I perceived nothing but what was civil and obliging in the curiosity of which I was the object.  This so much affected me that I began to be uneasy for myself, and the fate of my piece; fearing I should efface the favorable prejudices which seemed to lead to nothing but applause.  I was armed against raillery; but, so far overcome, by the flattering and obliging treatment I had not expected, that I trembled like a child when the performance was begun.

I had soon sufficient reason to be encouraged.  The piece was very ill played with respect to the actors, but the musical part was well sung and executed.  During the first scene, which was really of a delightful simplicity, I heard in the boxes a murmur of surprise and applause, which, relative to pieces of the same kind, had never yet happened.  The fermentation was soon increased to such a degree as to be perceptible through the whole audience, and of which, to speak—­after the manner of Montesquieu—­the effect was augmented by itself.  In the scene between the two good little folks, this effect was complete.  There is no clapping of hands before the king; therefore everything was heard, which was advantageous to the author and the piece.  I heard about me a whispering of women, who appeared as beautiful as angels.  They said to each other in a low voice:  “This is charming:  That is ravishing:  There is not a sound which does not go to the heart.”  The pleasure of giving this emotion to so many amiable persons moved me to tears; and these I could not contain in the first duo, when I remarked that I was not the only person who wept.  I collected myself for a moment, on recollecting the concert of M. de Treitorens.  This reminiscence had the effect of the slave who held the crown over the head of the general who triumphed, but my reflection was short, and I soon abandoned myself without interruption to the pleasure of enjoying my success.  However, I am certain the voluptuousness of the sex was more predominant than the vanity of the author, and had none but men been present, I certainly should not have had the incessant desire I felt of catching on my lips the delicious tears I had caused to flow.  I have known pieces excite more lively admiration, but I never saw so complete, delightful, and affecting an intoxication of the senses reign, during a whole representation, especially at court, and at a first performance.  They who saw this must recollect it, for it has never yet been equalled.