the merits of Gluck's "Armida" and Piccini's "Roland" as upon taxes,
grains, and the policy of the government. The gay little Abbe Galiani
brings perennial sunshine with the inexhaustible wit and vivacity that
lights his clear and subtle intellect. "He is a treasure on rainy days,"
says Diderot. "If they made him at the toy shops everybody would want
one for the country." "He was the nicest little harlequin that Italy has
produced," says Marmontel, "but upon the shoulders of this harlequin
was the head of a Machiavelli. Epicurean in his philosophy and with a
melancholy soul, seeing everything on the ridiculous side, there was
nothing either in politics or morals apropos of which he had not a good
story to tell, and these stories were always apt and had the salt of an
unexpected and ingenious allusion." He did not accept the theories of
his friends, which he believed would "cause the bankruptcy of knowledge,
of pleasure, and of the human intellect." "Messieurs les philosophes,
you go too fast," he said. "I begin by saying that if I were pope I
would put you in the Inquisition, and if I were king of France, into
the Bastille." He saw the drift of events; but if he reasoned like a
philosopher he laughed like a Neapolitan. What matters tomorrow if we
are happy today!

The familiar notes and letters of these clever people picture for us
a little world with its small interests, its piques, its loves, its
friendships, its quarrels, and its hatreds. Diderot, who refused for
a long time to meet Mme. d'Epinay, but finally became an intimate
and lasting friend, touches often, in his letters to Sophie, upon the
pleasant informality of La Chevrette, with its curious social episodes
and its emotional undercurrents. He does not forget even the pigeons,
the geese, the ducks, and the chickens, which he calls his own. Pouf,
the dog, has his place here too, and flits often across the scene, a
tiny bit of reflected immortality. These letters represent the bold
iconoclast on his best side, kind, simple in his tastes, and loyal
to his friends. He was never at home in the great world. He was seen
sometimes in the salons of Mme. Geoffrin, Mme. Necker, and others, but
he made his stay as brief as possible. Mme. d'Epinay succeeded better
in attaching him to her coterie. There was more freedom, and he probably
had a more sympathetic audience. "Four lines of this man make me
dram more and occupy me more," she said, "than a complete work of our
pr