He felt himself now, as he himself says in his Confessions, at a crucial point of his life. And that was why, on the day of the performance, when a carriage from the royal stables called to take him to the palace, he did not bother to shave. On the contrary, he was pleased that his face showed a neglect of several days.

Seeing him in that condition, and about to enter the hall where the King, the Queen, the whole royal family and all the members of the highest aristocracy would be present, Grimm and the Abbe Raynal and others tried to stop him.

``You cann't go in that way!'' they cried.

``Why not?'' Jean Jacques asked. ``Who is going to stop me?''

``You haven't dressed for the occasion!'' they pointed out to him.

``I'm dressed as I always am,'' Rousseau said. ``Neither better nor worse.''

``At home, yes,'' they argued. ``But here you are in the palace. There's the King. And Madame de Pompadour.''

``If they are here, then surely I have the right to be here,'' Rousseau said. ``And even more right. Since I am the composer!''

``But in such a slovenly condition.''

``What is slovenly about me?'' Rousseau asked. ``Is it because of my slovenliness that hair grows on my face? Surely it would grow there whether I washed myself or not. A hundred years ago I would have worn a beard with pride. And those without beards would have stood out as not dressed for the occasion. Now times have changed, and I must pretend that hair doesn't grow on my face. That's the fashion. And fashion is the real king here. Not Louis/15,, since even he obeys. Now, if you don't mind, I should like to hear my own piece performed.''