My vocation thus determined, I was bound apprentice; not, however, to a
watchmaker, but to an engraver, and I had been so completely humiliated
by the contempt of the register, that I submitted without a murmur. My
master, whose name was M. Ducommon, was a young man of a very violent and
boorish character, who contrived in a short time to tarnish all the
amiable qualities of my childhood, to stupefy a disposition naturally
sprightly, and reduce my feelings, as well as my condition, to an
absolute state of servitude. I forgot my Latin, history, and
antiquities; I could hardly recollect whether such people as Romans ever
existed. When I visited my father, he no longer beheld his idol, nor
could the ladies recognize the gallant Jean Jacques; nay, I was so well
convinced that Mr. and Miss Lambercier would scarce receive me as their
pupil, that I endeavored to avoid their company, and from that time have
never seen them. The vilest inclinations, the basest actions, succeeded
my amiable amusements and even obliterated the very remembrance of them.
I must have had, in spite of my good education, a great propensity to
degenerate, else the declension could not have followed with such ease
and rapidity, for never did so promising a Caesar so quickly become a
Laradon.

The art itself did not displease me. I had a lively taste for drawing.
There was nothing displeasing in the exercise of the graver; and as it
required no very extraordinary abilities to attain perfection as a
watchcase engraver, I hoped to arrive at it. Perhaps I should have
accomplished my design, if unreasonable restraint, added to the brutality
of my master, had not rendered my business disgusting. I wasted his
time, and employed myself in engraving medals, which served me and my
companions as a kind of insignia for a new invented order of chivalry,
and though this differed very little from my usual employ, I considered
it as a relaxation. Unfortunately, my master caught me at this