pot, a
conversation in which one discloses all one's heart, a strong emotion
that brings the tears to one's eyes and makes the heart beat faster,
whether it comes of some tale of generous action, or of a sentiment of
tenderness, of health, of gaiety, of liberty, of indolence--there is the
true happiness, nor shall I ever know any other."

_A Point in Rhetoric._--"Towards six in the evening the party broke up.
I remained alone with D., and as we were talking about the Eloges on
Descartes that had been sent in to the Academy, I made two remarks that
pleased him upon eloquence. One, that it is a mistake to try to stir the
passions before convincing the reason, and that the pathetic remains
without effect, when it is not prepared by the syllogism. Second, that
after the orator had touched me keenly, I could not endure that he
should break in upon this melting of the soul with some violent stroke:
that the pathetic insists on being followed by something moderate, weak,
vague, that should leave room for no contention on my part."[212]

_Holbach's Impressions of England._--"The Baron has returned from
England. He started with the pleasantest anticipations, he had a most
agreeable reception, he had excellent health, and yet he has returned
out of humour and discontented; discontented with the country, which he
found neither as populous nor as well cultivated as people say;
discontented with the buildings, that are nearly all bizarre and Gothic;
with the gardens, where the affectation of imitating nature is worse
than the monotonous symmetry of art; with the taste that heaps up in the
palaces what is first-rate, what is good, what is bad, what is
detestable, all pell-mell. He is disgusted at the amusements, which have
the air of religious ceremonies; with the men, on whose countenances you
never see confidence, friendship, gaiety, sociability, but on every face
the inscription, _'What is there in common between me and you?'_;
disgusted with the great people, who are gloomy, cold, proud, haughty,
and vain; and with the small people, who are hard, insolent, and
barbarous. The only thing that I have heard him praise is the facility
of travel: he says there is not a village, even on a cross-road, where
you do not find four or five post-chaises and a score of horses ready to
start.... There is no public education. The colleges--sumptuous
buildings--palaces to be compared to the Tuileries, are occupied by rich
idlers, who sleep and g