The people of Neuchatel, whose manners are trivial, know not howto distinguish solid merit, and suppose wit to consist in longdiscourses.When they saw a sedate man of ****** manners appearamongst them, they mistook his simplicity for haughtiness, hiscandor for rusticity, his laconi** for stupidity, and rejected hisbenevolent cares, because, wishing to be useful, and not being asycophant, he knew not how to flatter people he did not esteem.In theridiculous affair of the minister Petitpierre, who was displaced byhis colleagues, for having been unwilling they should be eternallydamned, my lord, opposing the usurpations of the ministers, saw thewhole country of which he took the part, rise up against him, and whenI arrived there the stupid murmur had not entirely subsided.He passedfor a man influenced by the prejudices with which he was inspired byothers, and of all the imputations brought against him it was the mostdevoid of truth.My first sentiment on seeing this venerable oldman, was that of tender commiseration, on account of his extremeleanness of body, years having already left him little else but skinand bone; but when I raised my eyes to his animated, open, noblecountenance, I felt a respect, mingled with confidence, which absorbedevery other sentiment.He answered the very short compliment I madehim when first I came into his presence by speaking of something else,as if I had already been a week in his house.He did not bid us sitdown.The stupid chatelain, the lord of the manor, remainedstanding.For my part I at first sight saw in the fine and piercingeye of his lordship something so conciliating that, feeling myselfentirely at ease, I without ceremony, took my seat by his side uponthe sofa.By the familiarity of his manner I immediately perceived theliberty I took gave him pleasure, and that he said to himself: This isnot a Neuchatelois.
Singular effect of the similarity of characters! At an age whenthe heart loses its natural warmth, that of this good old man grewwarm by his attachment to me to a degree which surprised everybody.Hecame to see me at Motiers under the pretense of quail shooting, andstayed there two days without touching a gun.We conceived such afriendship for each other that we knew not how to live separate; thecastle of Colombier, where he passed the summer, was six leaguesfrom Motiers; I went there at least once a fortnight, and made astay of twenty-four hours, and then returned like a pilgrim with myheart full of affection for my host.The emotion I had formerlyexperienced in my journeys from the Hermitage to Eaubonne wascertainly very different, but it was not more pleasing than thatwith which I approached Colombier.
What tears of tenderness have I shed when on the road to it, whilethinking of the paternal goodness, amiable virtues, and charmingphilosophy of this respectable old man! I called him father, and hecalled me son.These affectionate names give, in some measure, an ideaof the attachment by which we were united, but by no means that of thewant we felt of each other, nor of our continual desire to betogether.He would absolutely give me an apartment at the castle ofColombier, and for a long time pressed me to take up my residence inthat in which I lodged during my visits.I at length told him I wasmore free and at my ease in my own house, and that I had rathercontinue until the end of my life to come and see him.He approvedof my candor, and never afterwards spoke to me on the subject.Oh,my good lord! Oh, my worthy father! How is my heart still moved when Ithink of your goodness? Ah, barbarous wretches! how deeply did theywound me when they deprived me of your friendship! But no, greatman, you are and will ever be the same for me, who am still thesame.You have been deceived, but you are not changed.
My lord marechal is not without faults; he is a man of wisdom, buthe is still a man.With the greatest penetration, the nicestdiscrimination, and the most profound knowledge of men, he sometimessuffers himself to be deceived, and never recovers his error.Histemper is very singular and foreign to his general turn of mind.Heseems to forget the people he sees every day, and thinks of them ina moment when they least expect it; his attention seems ill-timed; hispresents are dictated by caprice and not by propriety.He gives orsends in an instant whatever comes into his head, be the value of itever so small.A young Genevese, desirous of entering into the serviceof Prussia, made a personal application to him; his lordship,instead of giving him a letter, gave him a little bag of peas, whichhe desired him to carry to the king.On receiving this singularrecommendation his majesty gave a commission to the bearer of it.
These elevated geniuses have between themselves a language which thevulgar will never understand.The whimsical manner of my lordmarechal, something like the caprice of a fine woman, rendered himstill more interesting to me.I was certain, and afterwards hadproofs, that it had not the least influence over his sentiments, nordid it affect the cares prescribed by friendship on serious occasions,yet in his manner of obliging there is the same singularity as inhis manners in general.Of this I will give one instance relative to amatter of no great importance.The journey from Motiers to Colombierbeing too long for me to perform in one day, I commonly divided itby setting off after dinner and sleeping at Brot, which is half way.
The landlord of the house where I stopped, named Sandoz, having tosolicit at Berlin a favor of importance to him, begged I would requesthis excellency to ask it in his behalf."Most willingly," said I,and took him with me.I left him in the antechamber, and mentioned thematter to his lordship, who returned me no answer.After passingwith him the whole morning, I saw as I crossed the hall to go todinner, poor Sandoz, who was fatigued to death with waiting.
