Book V

It was, I believe, in 1732, that I arrived at Chambery, as already
related, and began my employment of registering land for the king. I was
almost twenty-one, my mind well enough formed for my age, with respect to
sense, but very deficient in point of judgment, and needing every
instruction from those into whose hands I fell, to make me conduct myself
with propriety; for a few years' experience had not been able to cure me
radically of my romantic ideas; and notwithstanding the ills I had
sustained, I knew as little of the world, or mankind, as if I had never
purchased instruction. I slept at home, that is, at the house of Madam
de Warrens; but it was not as at Annecy: here were no gardens, no brook,
no landscape; the house was dark and dismal, and my apartment the most
gloomy of the whole. The prospect a dead wall, an alley instead of a
street, confined air, bad light, small rooms, iron bars, rats, and a
rotten floor; an assemblage of circumstances that do not constitute a
very agreeable habitation; but I was in the same house with my best
friend, incessantly near her, at my desk, or in chamber, so that I could
not perceive the gloominess of my own, or have time to think of it.
It may appear whimsical that she should reside at Chambery on purpose to
live in this disagreeable house; but it was a trait of contrivance which
I ought not to pass over in silence. She had no great inclination for a
journey to Turin, fearing that after the recent revolutions, and the
agitation in which the court yet was, she should not be very favorably
received there; but her affairs seemed to demand her presence, as she
feared being forgotten or ill-treated, particularly as the Count de
Saint-Laurent, Intendent-general of the Finances, was not in her
interest. He had an old house in Chambery, ill-built, and standing in so
disagreeable a situation that it was always untenanted; she hired, and
settled in this house, a plan that succeeded much better than a journey
to Turin would have done, for her pension was not suppressed, and the
Count de Saint-Laurent was ever after one of her best friends.

Her household was much on the old footing; her faithful Claude Anet still
remained with her. He was, as I have before mentioned, a peasant of
Moutru, who in his childhood had gathered herbs in Jura for the purpose
of making Swiss tea; she had taken him into her service for his knowledge
of drugs, finding it convenient to have a herbalist among her domestics.
Passionately fond of the study of plants, he became a real botanist, and
had he not died young, might have acquired as much fame in that science
as he deserved for being an honest man. Serious even to gravity, and
older than myself, he was to me a kind of tutor, commanding respect, and