Both Rousseau and Diderot, our two major protagonists, were concerned to persuade not only the audience of their day but that of all days to come. On Rousseau’s orders his autobiographical works were not published until after his death because, as he fully realized, to tell his story was to tell that of all those who had once been his best friends and were now his worst enemies. He anticipated the vindication in the ages to come that he felt had eluded him during his lifetime, largely because the public was (mis)guided, in his view, by his philosophical adversaries who prided themselves on their prowess as opinion makers. Before he succumbed to delusions of a universal conspiracy against his name, he looked forward to the publication of his Confessions with as much hope as there was fear among the philosophes that his memoirs would besmirch their reputations with the hateful revelations that are the specialty of a former lover who can never forgive or forget.