BOOK XI.

|Although Eloisa, which for a long time had been in the press, did not

yet, at the end of the year, 1760, appear, the work already began to

make a great noise. Madam de Luxembourg had spoken of it at court, and

Madam de Houdetot at Paris. The latter had obtained from me permission

for Saint Lambert to read the manuscript to the King of Poland, who had

been delighted with it. Duclos, to whom I had also given the perusal of

the work, had spoken of it at the academy. All Paris was impatient to

see the novel; the booksellers of the Rue Saint Jacques, and that of the

Palais Royal, were beset with people who came to inquire when it was

to be published. It was at length brought out, and the success it had,

answered, contrary to custom, to the impatience with which it had been

expected. The dauphiness, who was one of the first who read it, spoke of

it to M. de Luxembourg as a ravishing performance. The opinions of men

of letters differed from each other, but in those of any other class

approbation was general, especially with the women, who became so

intoxicated with the book and the author, that there was not one in high

life with whom I might not have succeeded had I undertaken to do it. Of

this I have such proofs as I will not commit to paper, and which without

the aid of experience, authorized my opinion. It is singular that the

book should have succeeded better in France than in the rest of Europe,

although the French, both men and women, are severely treated in it.

Contrary to my expectation it was least successful in Switzerland, and

most so in Paris. Do friendship, love and virtue reign in this capital

more than elsewhere? Certainly not; but there reigns in it an exquisite

sensibility which transports the heart to their image, and makes us

cherish in others the pure, tender and virtuous sentiments we no longer

possess. Corruption is everywhere the same; virtue and morality no

longer exist in Europe; but if the least love of them still remains, it

is in Paris that this will be found.--[I wrote this in 1769.]

In the midst of so many prejudices and feigned passions, the real

sentiments of nature are not to be distinguished from others, unless we

well know to analyze the human heart. A very nice discrimination, not to

be acquired except by the education of the world, is necessary to feel

the finesses of the heart, if I dare use the expression, with which this

work abounds. I do not hesitate to place the fourth part of it upon an

equality with the Princess of Cleves; nor to assert that had these two

works been read nowhere but in the provinces, their merit would never

have been discovered. It must not, therefore, be considered as a matter

of astonishment, that the greatest success of my work was at court. It

abounds with lively but veiled touches of the pencil, which could not

but give pleasure there, because the persons who frequent it are more

accustomed than others to discover them. A distinction must, however, be

made. The work is by no means proper for the species of men of wit who

have nothing but cunning, who possess no other kind of discernment than

that which penetrates evil, and see nothing where good only is to be

found. If, for instance, Eloisa had been published in a certain country,

I am convinced it would not have been read through by a single person,

and the work would have been stifled in its birth.

I have collected most of the letters written to me on the subject of

this publication, and deposited them, tied up together, in the hands of

Madam de Nadillac. Should this collection ever be given to the world,

very singular things will be seen, and an opposition of opinion, which

shows what it is to have to do with the public. The thing least kept in

view, and which will ever distinguish it from every other work, is the

simplicity of the subject and the continuation of the interest, which,

confined to three persons, is kept up throughout six volumes, without

episode, romantic adventure, or anything malicious either in the persons

or actions. Diderot complimented Richardson on the prodigious variety of

his portraits and the multiplicity of his persons. In fact, Richardson

has the merit of having well characterized them all; but with respect

to their number, he has that in common with the most insipid writers

of novels who attempt to make up for the sterility of their ideas by

multiplying persons and adventures. It is easy to awaken the attention

by incessantly presenting unheard of adventures and new faces, which

pass before the imagination as the figures in a magic lanthorn do before

the eye; but to keep up that attention to the same objects, and

without the aid of the wonderful, is certainly more difficult; and if,

everything else being equal, the simplicity of the subject adds to the

beauty of the work, the novels of Richardson, superior in so many other

respects, cannot in this be compared to mine. I know it is already

forgotten, and the cause of its being so; but it will be taken up again.

All my fear was that, by an extreme simplicity, the narrative would be

fatiguing, and that it was not sufficiently interesting to engage the

attention throughout the whole. I was relieved from this apprehension by

a circumstance which alone was more flattering to my pride than all the

compliments made me upon the work.

It appeared at the beginning of the carnival; a hawker carried it to

the Princess of Talmont--[It was not the princess, but some other lady,

whose name I do not know.]--on the evening of a ball night at the opera.

After supper the Princess dressed herself for the ball, and until the

hour of going there, took up the new novel. At midnight she ordered the

horses to be put into the carriage, and continued to read. The servant

returned to tell her the horses were put to; she made no answer. Her

people perceiving she forgot herself, came to tell her it was two

o'clock. "There is yet no hurry," replied the princess, still reading

on. Some time afterwards, her watch having stopped, she rang to know the

hour. She was told it was four o'clock. "That being the case," she said,

"it is too late to go to the ball; let the horses be taken off." She

undressed herself and passed the rest of the night in reading.

Ever since I came to the knowledge of this circumstance, I have had a

constant desire to see the lady, not only to know from herself whether

or not what I have related be exactly true, but because I have always

thought it impossible to be interested in so lively a manner in the

happiness of Julia, without having that sixth and moral sense with which

so few hearts are endowed, and without which no person whatever can

understand the sentiments of mine.

What rendered the women so favorable to me was, their being persuaded

that I had written my own history, and was myself the hero of the

romance. This opinion was so firmly established, that Madam de Polignac

wrote to Madam de Verdelin, begging she would prevail upon me to show

her the portrait of Julia. Everybody thought it was impossible so

strongly to express sentiments without having felt them, or thus to

describe the transports of love, unless immediately from the feelings

of the heart. This was true, and I certainly wrote the novel during the

time my imagination was inflamed to ecstasy; but they who thought real

objects necessary to this effect were deceived, and far from conceiving

to what a degree I can at will produce it for imaginary beings. Without

Madam d'Houdetot, and the recollection of a few circumstances in my

youth, the amours I have felt and described would have been with fairy

nymphs. I was unwilling either to confirm or destroy an error which was

advantageous to me. The reader may see in the preface a dialogue, which

I had printed separately, in what manner I left the public in suspense.

Rigorous people say, I ought to have explicity declared the truth. For

my part I see no reason for this, nor anything that could oblige me to

it, and am of opinion there would have been more folly than candor in

the declaration without necessity.

Much about the same time the 'Paix Perpetuelle' made its appearance,

of this I had the year before given the manuscript to a certain M. de

Bastide, the author of a journal called Le Monde, into which he would at

all events cram all my manuscripts. He was known to M. Duclos, and came

in his name to beg I would help him to fill the Monde. He had heard

speak of Eloisa, and would have me put this into his journal; he was

also desirous of making the same use of Emilius; he would have asked me

for the Social Contract for the same purpose, had he suspected it to

be written. At length, fatigued with his importunities, I resolved

upon letting him have the Paix Perpetuelle, which I gave him for twelve

louis. Our agreement was, that he should print it in his journal; but as

soon as he became the proprietor of the manuscript, he thought proper to

print it separately, with a few retrenchments, which the censor required

him to make. What would have happened had I joined to the work my

opinion of it, which fortunately I did not communicate to M. de

Bastide, nor was it comprehended in our agreement? This remains still in

manuscript amongst my papers. If ever it be made public, the world

will see how much the pleasantries and self-sufficient manner of M. de

Voltaire on the subject must have made me, who was so well acquainted

with the short-sightedness of this poor man in political matters, of

which he took it into his head to speak, shake my sides with laughter.

In the midst of my success with the women and the public, I felt I lost

ground at the Hotel de Luxembourg, not with the marechal, whose goodness

to me seemed daily to increase, but with his lady. Since I had had

nothing more to read to her, the door of her apartment was not so

frequently open to me, and during her stay at Montmorency, although I

regularly presented myself, I seldom saw her except at table. My place

even there was not distinctly marked out as usual. As she no longer

offered me that by her side, and spoke to me but seldom, not having on

my part much to say to her, I was well satisfied with another, where

I was more at my ease, especially in the evening; for I mechanically

contracted the habit of placing myself nearer and nearer to the

marechal.

Apropos of the evening: I recollect having said I did not sup at the

castle, and this was true, at the beginning of my acquaintance there;

but as M. de Luxembourg did not dine, nor even sit down to table, it

happened that I was for several months, and already very familiar in the

family, without ever having eaten with him. This he had the goodness to

remark, upon which I determined to sup there from time to time, when

the company was not numerous; I did so, and found the suppers very

agreeable, as the dinners were taken almost standing; whereas the former

were long, everybody remaining seated with pleasure after a long walk;

and very good and agreeable, because M. de Luxembourg loved good eating,

and the honors of them were done in a charming manner by madam de

marechale. Without this explanation it would be difficult to understand

the end of a letter from M. de Luxembourg, in which he says he

recollects our walks with the greatest pleasure; especially, adds he,

when in the evening we entered the court and did not find there the

traces of carriages. The rake being every morning drawn over the gravel

to efface the marks left by the coach wheels, I judged by the number of

ruts of that of the persons who had arrived in the afternoon.

This year, 1761, completed the heavy losses this good man had suffered

since I had had the honor of being known to him. As if it had been

ordained that the evils prepared for me by destiny should begin by the

man to whom I was most attached, and who was the most worthy of esteem.

The first year he lost his sister, the Duchess of Villeroy; the second,

his daughter, the Princess of Robeck; the third, he lost in the Duke of

Montmorency his only son; and in the Comte de Luxembourg, his grandson,

the last two supporters of the branch of which he was, and of his name.

He supported all these losses with apparent courage, but his heart

incessantly bled in secret during the rest of his life, and his health

was ever after upon the decline. The unexpected and tragical death of

his son must have afflicted him the more, as it happened immediately

after the king had granted him for his child, and given him the promise

for his grandson, the reversion of the commission he himself then held

of the captain of the Gardes de Corps. He had the mortification to see

the last, a most promising young man, perish by degrees from the blind

confidence of the mother in the physician, who giving the unhappy youth

medicines for food, suffered him to die of inanition. Alas! had my

advice been taken, the grandfather and the grandson would both still

have been alive. What did not I say and write to the marechal, what

remonstrances did I make to Madam de Montmorency, upon the more than

severe regimen, which, upon the faith of physicians, she made her son

observe! Madam de Luxembourg, who thought as I did, would not usurp

the authority of the mother; M. de Luxembourg, a man of mild and easy

character, did not like to contradict her. Madam de Montmorency had

in Borden a confidence to which her son at length became a victim. How

delighted was the poor creature when he could obtain permission to come

to Mont Louis with Madam de Boufflers, to ask Theresa for some victuals

for his famished stomach! How did I secretly deplore the miseries of

greatness in seeing this only heir to a immense fortune, a great name,

and so many dignified titles, devour with the greediness of a beggar a

wretched morsel of bread! At length, notwithstanding all I could say and

do, the physician triumphed, and the child died of hunger.

The same confidence in quacks, which destroyed the grandson,

hastened the dissolution of the grandfather, and to this he added the

pusillanimity of wishing to dissimulate the infirmities of age. M. de

Luxembourg had at intervals a pain in the great toe; he was seized with

it at Montmorency, which deprived him of sleep, and brought on slight

fever. I had courage enough to pronounce the word gout. Madam de

Luxembourg gave me a reprimand. The surgeon, valet de chambre of the

marechal, maintained it was not the gout, and dressed the suffering part

with beaume tranquille. Unfortunately the pain subsided, and when it

returned the same remedy was had recourse to. The constitution of the

marechal was weakened, and his disorder increased, as did his remedies

in the same proportion. Madam de Luxembourg, who at length perceived

the primary disorder to be the gout, objected to the dangerous manner

of treating it. Things were afterwards concealed from her, and M. de

Luxembourg in a few years lost his life in consequence of his obstinate

adherence to what he imagined to be a method of cure. But let me not

anticipate misfortune: how many others have I to relate before I come to

this!

It is singular with what fatality everything I could say and do seemed

of a nature to displease Madam de Luxembourg, even when I had it most

at heart to preserve her friendship. The repeated afflictions which

fell upon M. de Luxembourg still attached me to him the more, and

consequently to Madam de Luxembourg; for they always seemed to me to be

so sincerely united, that the sentiments in favor of the one necessarily

extended to the other. The marechal grew old. His assiduity at court,

the cares this brought on, continually hunting, fatigue, and especially

that of the service during the quarter he was in waiting, required the

vigor of a young man, and I did not perceive anything that could

support his in that course of life; since, besides after his death, his

dignities were to be dispersed and his name extinct, it was by no means

necessary for him to continue a laborious life of which the principal

object had been to dispose the prince favorably to his children. One day

when we three were together, and he complained of the fatigues of the

court, as a man who had been discouraged by his losses, I took the

liberty to speak of retirement, and to give him the advice Cyneas gave

to Pyrrhus. He sighed, and returned no positive answer. But the moment

Madam de Luxembourg found me alone she reprimanded me severely for what

I had said, at which she seemed to be alarmed. She made a remark of

which I so strongly felt the justness that I determined never again to

touch upon the subject: this was, that the long habit of living at court

made that life necessary, that it was become a matter of amusement for

M. de Luxembourg, and that the retirement I proposed to him would

be less a relaxation from care than an exile, in which inactivity,

weariness and melancholy would soon put an end to his existence.

Although she must have perceived I was convinced, and ought to have

relied upon the promise I made her, and which I faithfully kept, she

still seemed to doubt of it; and I recollect that the conversations I

afterwards had with the marechal were less frequent and almost always

interrupted.

Whilst my stupidity and awkwardness injured me in her opinion, persons

whom she frequently saw and most loved, were far from being disposed to

aid me in gaining what I had lost. The Abbe de Boufflers especially, a

young man as lofty as it was possible for a man to be, never seemed

well disposed towards me; and besides his being the only person of the

society of Madam de Luxembourg who never showed me the least attention,

I thought I perceived I lost something with her every time he came to

the castle. It is true that without his wishing this to be the case,

his presence alone was sufficient to produce the effect; so much did his

graceful and elegant manner render still more dull my stupid propositi.

During the first two years he seldom came to Montmorency, and by the

indulgence of Madam de Luxembourg I had tolerably supported myself, but

as soon as his visits began to be regular I was irretrievably lost. I

wished to take refuge under his wing, and gain his friendship; but the

same awkwardness which made it necessary I should please him prevented

me from succeeding in the attempt I made to do it, and what I did with

that intention entirely lost me with Madam de Luxembourg, without being

of the least service to me with the abbe. With his understanding he

might have succeeded in anything, but the impossibility of applying

himself, and his turn for dissipation, prevented his acquiring a perfect

knowledge of any subject. His talents are however various, and this is

sufficient for the circles in which he wishes to distinguish himself. He

writes light poetry and fashionable letters, strums on the cithern, and

pretends to draw with crayon. He took it into his head to attempt the

portrait of Madam de Luxembourg; the sketch he produced was horrid.

She said it did not in the least resemble her and this was true. The

traitorous abbe consulted me, and I like a fool and a liar, said there

was a likeness. I wished to flatter the abbe, but I did not please the

lady who noted down what I had said, and the abbe, having obtained what

he wanted, laughed at me in his turn. I perceived by the ill success

of this my late beginning the necessity of making another attempt to

flatter 'invita Minerva'.

My talent was that of telling men useful but severe truths with energy

and courage; to this it was necessary to confine myself. Not only I was

not born to flatter, but I knew not how to commend. The awkwardness of

the manner in which I have sometimes bestowed eulogium has done me

more harm than the severity of my censure. Of this I have to adduce one

terrible instance, the consequences of which have not only fixed my

fate for the rest of my life, but will perhaps decide on my reputation

throughout all posterity.

During the residence of M. de Luxembourg at Montmorency, M. de Choiseul

sometimes came to supper at the castle. He arrived there one day after I

had left it. My name was mentioned, and M. de Luxembourg related to

him what had happened at Venice between me and M. de Montaigu. M. de

Choiseul said it was a pity I had quitted that track, and that if I

chose to enter it again he would most willingly give me employment. M.

de Luxembourg told me what had passed. Of this I was the more sensible

as I was not accustomed to be spoiled by ministers, and had I been in

a better state of health it is not certain that I should not have been

guilty of a new folly. Ambition never had power over my mind except

during the short intervals in which every other passion left me at

liberty; but one of these intervals would have been sufficient to

determine me. This good intention of M. de Choiseul gained him my

attachment and increased the esteem which, in consequence of some

operations in his administration, I had conceived for his talents;

and the family compact in particular had appeared to me to evince a

statesman of the first order. He moreover gained ground in my estimation

by the little respect I entertained for his predecessors, not even

excepting Madam de Pompadour, whom I considered as a species of prime

minister, and when it was reported that one of these two would expel

the other, I thought I offered up prayers for the honor of France when I

wished that M. de Choiseul might triumph. I had always felt an antipathy

to Madam de Pompadour, even before her preferment; I had seen her with

Madam de la Popliniere when her name was still Madam d'Etioles. I was

afterwards dissatisfied with her silence on the subject of Diderot, and

with her proceedings relative to myself, as well on the subject of the

'Muses Galantes', as on that of the 'Devin du Village', which had not

in any manner produced me advantages proportioned to its success; and

on all occasions I had found her but little disposed to serve me. This

however did not prevent the Chevalier de Lorenzy from proposing to me to

write something in praise of that lady, insinuating that I might acquire

some advantage by it. The proposition excited my indignation, the more

as I perceived it did not come from himself, knowing that, passive as he

was, he thought and acted according to the impulsion he received. I

am so little accustomed to constraint that it was impossible for me to

conceal from him my disdain, nor from anybody the moderate opinion I had

of the favorite; this I am sure she knew, and thus my own interest

was added to my natural inclination in the wishes I formed for M. de

Choiseul. Having a great esteem for his talents, which was all I knew

of him, full of gratitude for his kind intentions, and moreover

unacquainted in my retirement with his taste and manner of living, I

already considered him as the avenger of the public and myself; and

being at that time writing the conclusion of my Social Contract,

I stated in it, in a single passage, what I thought of preceding

ministers, and of him by whom they began to be eclipsed. On this

occasion I acted contrary to my most constant maxim; and besides, I did

not recollect that, in bestowing praise and strongly censuring in

the same article, without naming the persons, the language must be so

appropriated to those to whom it is applicable, that the most ticklish

pride cannot find in it the least thing equivocal. I was in this respect

in such an imprudent security, that I never once thought it was possible

any one should make a false application. It will soon appear whether or

not I was right.

One of my misfortunes was always to be connected with some female

author. This I thought I might avoid amongst the great. I was deceived;

it still pursued me. Madam de Luxembourg was not, however; at least that

I know of, attacked with the mania of writing; but Madam de Boufflers

was. She wrote a tragedy in prose, which, in the first place, was read,

handed about, and highly spoken of in the society of the Prince Conti,

and upon which, not satisfied with the encomiums she received, she would

absolutely consult me for the purpose of having mine. This she obtained,

but with that moderation which the work deserved. She besides had with

it the information I thought it my duty to give her, that her piece,

entitled 'L'Esclave Genereux', greatly resembled the English tragedy

of 'Oroonoko', but little known in France, although translated into

the French language. Madam de Bouffiers thanked me for the remark, but,

however, assured me there was not the least resemblance between her

piece and the other. I never spoke of the plagiarisms except to herself,

and I did it to discharge a duty she had imposed on me; but this has not

since prevented me from frequently recollecting the consequences of the

sincerity of Gil Blas to the preaching archbishop.

Besides the Abbe de Bouffiers, by whom I was not beloved, and Madam de

Bouffiers, in whose opinion I was guilty of that which neither women

nor authors ever pardon, the other friends of Madam de Luxembourg never

seemed much disposed to become mine, particularly the President Henault,

who, enrolled amongst authors, was not exempt from their weaknesses;

also Madam du Deffand, and Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, both intimate

with Voltaire and the friends of D'Alembert, with whom the latter

at length lived, however upon an honorable footing, for it cannot be

understood I mean otherwise. I first began to interest myself for Madam

du Deffand, whom the loss of her eyes made an object of commiseration in

mine; but her manner of living so contrary to my own, that her hour of

going to bed was almost mine for rising; her unbounded passion for low

wit, the importance she gave to every kind of printed trash, either

complimentary or abusive, the despotism and transports of her oracles,

her excessive admiration or dislike of everything, which did not permit

her to speak upon any subject without convulsions, her inconceivable

prejudices, invincible obstinacy, and the enthusiasm of folly to which

this carried her in her passionate judgments; all disgusted me and

diminished the attention I wished to pay her. I neglected her and she

perceived it; this was enough to set her in a rage, and, although I was

sufficiently aware how much a woman of her character was to be feared,

I preferred exposing myself to the scourge of her hatred rather than to

that of her friendship.

My having so few friends in the society of Madam de Luxembourg would not

have been in the least dangerous had I had no enemies in the family.

Of these I had but one, who, in my then situation, was as powerful as

a hundred. It certainly was not M. de Villeroy, her brother; for he not

only came to see me, but had several times invited me to Villeroy; and

as I had answered to the invitation with all possible politeness and

respect, he had taken my vague manner of doing it as a consent, and

arranged with Madam de Luxembourg a journey of a fortnight, in which it

was proposed to me to make one of the party. As the cares my health then

required did not permit me to go from home without risk, I prayed Madam

de Luxembourg to have the goodness to make my apologies. Her answer

proves this was done with all possible ease, and M. de Villeroy still

continued to show me his usual marks of goodness. His nephew and heir,

the young Marquis of Villeroy, had not for me the same benevolence, nor

had I for him the respect I had for his uncle. His harebrained manner

rendered him insupportable to me, and my coldness drew upon me his

aversion. He insultingly attacked me one evening at table, and I had the

worst of it because I am a fool, without presence of mind; and because

anger, instead of rendering my wit more poignant, deprives me of the

little I have. I had a dog which had been given me when he was quite

young, soon after my arrival at the Hermitage, and which I had called

Duke. This dog, not handsome, but rare of his kind, of which I had made

my companion and friend, a title which he certainly merited much more

than most of the persons by whom it was taken, became in great request

at the castle of Montmorency for his good nature and fondness, and the

attachment we had for each other; but from a foolish pusillanimity I had

changed his name to Turk, as if there were not many dogs called Marquis,

without giving the least offence to any marquis whatsoever. The Marquis

of Villeroy, who knew of the change of name, attacked me in such a

manner that I was obliged openly at table to relate what I had done.

Whatever there might be offensive in the name of duke, it was not in my

having given but in my having taken it away. The worst of it all was,

there were many dukes present, amongst others M. de Luxembourg and his

son; and the Marquis de Villeroy, who was one day to have, and now has

the title, enjoyed in the most cruel manner the embarrassment into

which he had thrown me. I was told the next day his aunt had severely

reprimanded him, and it may be judged whether or not, supposing her to

have been serious, this put me upon better terms with him.

To enable me to support his enmity I had no person, neither at the Hotel

de Luxembourg nor at the Temple, except the Chevalier de Lorenzy, who

professed himself my friend; but he was more that of D'Alembert, under

whose protection he passed with women for a great geometrician. He

was moreover the cicisbeo, or rather the complaisant chevalier of

the Countess of Boufflers, a great friend also to D'Alembert, and the

Chevalier de Lorenzy was the most passive instrument in her hands. Thus,

far from having in that circle any counter-balance to my inaptitude,

to keep me in the good graces of Madam de Luxembourg, everybody who

approached her seemed to concur in injuring me in her good opinion. Yet,

besides Emilius, with which she charged herself, she gave me at the

same time another mark of her benevolence, which made me imagine that,

although wearied with my conversation, she would still preserve for me

the friendship she had so many times promised me for life.

As soon as I thought I could depend upon this, I began to ease my heart,

by confessing to her all my faults, having made it an inviolable maxim

to show myself to my friends such as I really was, neither better nor

worse. I had declared to her my connection with Theresa, and everything

that had resulted from it, without concealing the manner in which I had

disposed of my children. She had received my confessions favorably, and

even too much so, since she spared me the censures I so much merited;

and what made the greatest impression upon me was her goodness to

Theresa, making her presents, sending for her, and begging her to come

and see her, receiving her with caresses, and often embracing her in

public. This poor girl was in transports of joy and gratitude, of which

I certainly partook; the friendship Madam de Luxembourg showed me in her

condescensions to Theresa affected me much more than if they had been

made immediately to myself.

Things remained in this state for a considerable time; but at length

Madam de Luxembourg carried her goodness so far as to have a desire to

take one of my children from the hospital. She knew I had put a

cipher into the swaddling clothes of the eldest; she asked me for the

counterpart of the cipher, and I gave it to her. In this research she

employed La Roche, her valet de chambre and confidential servant, who

made vain inquiries, although after only about twelve or fourteen years,

had the registers of the foundling hospital been in order, or the search

properly made, the original cipher ought to have been found. However

this may be, I was less sorry for his want of success than I should have

been had I from time to time continued to see the child from its birth

until that moment. If by the aid of the indications given, another child

had been presented as my own, the doubt of its being so in fact, and

the fear of having one thus substituted for it, would have contracted

my affections, and I should not have tasted of the charm of the real

sentiment of nature. This during infancy stands in need of being

supported by habit. The long absence of a child whom the father has

seen but for an instant, weakens, and at length annihilates paternal

sentiment, and parents will never love a child sent to nurse, like that

which is brought up under their eyes. This reflection may extenuate my

faults in their effects, but it must aggravate them in their source.

It may not perhaps be useless to remark that by the means of Theresa,

the same La Roche became acquainted with Madam le Vasseur, whom Grimm

still kept at Deuil, near La Chevrette, and not far from Montmorency.

After my departure it was by means of La Roche that I continued to send

this woman the money I had constantly sent her at stated times, and I

am of opinion he often carried her presents from Madam de Luxembourg;

therefore she certainly was not to be pitied, although she constantly

complained. With respect to Grimm, as I am not fond of speaking of

persons whom I ought to hate, I never mentioned his name to Madam de

Luxembourg, except when I could not avoid it; but she frequently made

him the subject of conversation, without telling me what she thought

of the man, or letting me discover whether or not he was of her

acquaintance. Reserve with people I love and who are open with me being

contrary to my nature, especially in things relating to themselves, I

have since that time frequently thought of that of Madam de Luxembourg;

but never, except when other events rendered the recollection natural.

Having waited a long time without hearing speak of Emilius, after I had

given it to Madam de Luxembourg, I at last heard the agreement was made

at Paris, with the bookseller Duchesne, and by him with Neaulme, of

Amsterdam. Madam de Luxembourg sent me the original and the duplicate

of my agreement with Duchesne, that I might sign them. I discovered

the writing to be by the same hand as that of the letters of M. de

Malesherbes, which he himself did not write. The certainty that my

agreement was made by the consent, and under the eye of that magistrate,

made me sign without hesitation. Duchesne gave me for the manuscript six

thousand livres (two hundred and fifty pounds), half in specie, and one

or two hundred copies. After having signed the two parts, I sent them

both to Madam de Luxembourg, according to her desire; she gave one to

Duchesne, and instead of returning the other kept it herself, so that I

never saw it afterwards.

My acquaintance with M. and Madam de Luxembourg, though it diverted me a

little from my plan of retirement, did not make me entirely renounce it.

Even at the time I was most in favor with Madam de Luxembourg, I always

felt that nothing but my sincere attachment to the marechal and herself

could render to me supportable the people with whom they were connected,

and all the difficulty I had was in conciliating this attachment with a

manner of life more agreeable to my inclination, and less contrary to

my health, which constraint and late suppers continually deranged,

notwithstanding all the care taken to prevent it; for in this, as in

everything else, attention was carried as far as possible; thus, for

instance, every evening after supper the marechal, who went early to

bed, never failed, notwithstanding everything that could be said to the

contrary, to make me withdraw at the same time. It was not until some

little time before my catastrophe that, for what reason I know not,

he ceased to pay me that attention. Before I perceived the coolness of

Madam de Luxembourg, I was desirous, that I might not expose myself to

it, to execute my old project; but not having the means to that effect,

I was obliged to wait for the conclusion of the agreement for 'Emilius',

and in the time I finished the 'Social Contract', and sent it to Rey,

fixing the price of the manuscript at a thousand livres (forty-one

pounds), which he paid me.

I ought not perhaps to omit a trifling circumstance relative to this

manuscript. I gave it, well sealed up, to Du Voisin, a minister in the

pays de Vaud and chaplain at the Hotel de Hollande, who sometimes came

to see me, and took upon himself to send the packet to Rey, with whom he

was connected. The manuscript, written in a small letter, was but very

trifling, and did not fill his pocket. Yet, in passing the barriere, the

packet fell, I know not by what means, into the hands of the Commis, who

opened and examined it, and afterwards returned it to him, when he had

reclaimed it in the name of the ambassador. This gave him an opportunity

of reading it himself, which he ingeniously wrote me he had done,

speaking highly of the work, without suffering a word of criticism or

censure to escape him; undoubtedly reserving to himself to become the

avenger of Christianity as soon as the work should appear. He resealed

the packet and sent it to Rey. Such is the substance of his narrative in

the letter in which he gave an account of the affair, and is all I ever

knew of the matter.

Besides these two books and my dictionary of music, at which I still did

something as opportunity offered, I had other works of less importance

ready to make their appearance, and which I proposed to publish either

separately or in my general collection, should I ever undertake it. The

principal of these works, most of which are still in manuscript in the

hands of De Peyrou, was an essay on the origin of Languages, which I

had read to M. de Malesherbes and the Chevalier de Lorenzy, who spoke

favorably of it. I expected all the productions together would produce

me a net capital of from eight to ten thousand livres (three to four

hundred pounds), which I intended to sink in annuities for my life and

that of Theresa; after which, our design, as I have already mentioned,

was to go and live together in the midst of some province, without

further troubling the public about me, or myself with any other project

than that of peacefully ending my days and still continuing to do in

my neighborhood all the good in my power, and to write at leisure the

memoirs which I intended.

Such was my intention, and the execution of it was facilitated by an act

of generosity in Rey, upon which I cannot be silent. This bookseller,

of whom so many unfavorable things were told me in Paris, is,

notwithstanding, the only one with whom I have always had reason to be

satisfied. It is true, we frequently disagreed as to the execution of

my works. He was heedless and I was choleric; but in matters of interest

which related to them, although I never made with him an agreement in

form, I always found in him great exactness and probity. He is also

the only person of his profession who frankly confessed to me he gained

largely by my means; and he frequently, when he offered me a part of his

fortune, told me I was the author of it all. Not finding the means of

exercising his gratitude immediately upon myself, he wished at least

to give me proofs of it in the person of my governante, upon whom he

settled an annuity of three hundred livres (twelve pounds), expressing

in the deed that it was an acknowledgment for the advantages I had

procured him. This he did between himself and me, without ostentation,

pretension, or noise, and had not I spoken of it to anybody, not a

single person would ever have known anything of the matter. I was so

pleased with this action that I became attached to Rey, and conceived

for him a real friendship. Sometime afterwards he desired I would become

godfather to one of his children; I consented, and a part of my regret

in the situation to which I am reduced, is my being deprived of the

means of rendering in future my attachment of my goddaughter useful

to her and her parents. Why am I, who am so sensible of the modest

generosity of this bookseller, so little so of the noisy eagerness of

many persons of the highest rank, who pompously fill the world with

accounts of the services they say they wished to render me, but the

good effects of which I never felt? Is it their fault or mine? Are

they nothing more than vain; is my insensibility purely ingratitude?

Intelligent reader, weigh and determine; for my part I say no more.

This pension was a great resource to Theresa and considerable

alleviation to me, although I was far from receiving from it a direct

advantage, any more than from the presents that were made her.

She herself has always disposed of everything. When I kept her money I

gave her a faithful account of it, without ever applying any part of

the deposit to our common expenses, not even when she was richer than

myself. "What is mine is ours," said I to her; "and what is thine is

thine." I never departed from this maxim. They who have had the baseness

to accuse me of receiving by her hands that which I refused to take with

mine, undoubtedly judged of my heart by their own, and knew but little

of me. I would willingly eat with her the bread she should have earned,

but not that she should have had given her. For a proof of this I appeal

to herself, both now and hereafter, when, according to the course of

nature, she shall have survived me. Unfortunately, she understands

but little of economy in any respect, and is, besides, careless and

extravagant, not from vanity nor gluttony, but solely from negligence.

No creature is perfect here below, and since the excellent qualities

must be accompanied with some defects; I prefer these to vices; although

her defects are more prejudicial to us both. The efforts I have made, as

formerly I did for mamma, to accumulate something in advance which might

some day be to her a never-failing resource, are not to be conceived;

but my cares were always ineffectual.

Neither of these women ever called themselves to an account, and,

notwithstanding all my efforts, everything I acquired was dissipated

as fast as it came. Notwithstanding the great simplicity of Theresa's

dress, the pension from Rey has never been sufficient to buy her

clothes, and I have every year been under the necessity of adding

something to it for that purpose. We are neither of us born to be rich,

and this I certainly do not reckon amongst our misfortunes.

The 'Social Contract' was soon printed. This was not the case with

'Emilius', for the publication of which I waited to go into the

retirement I meditated. Duchesne, from time to time, sent me specimens

of impression to choose from; when I had made my choice, instead of

beginning he sent me others. When, at length, we were fully determined

on the size and letter, and several sheets were already printed off, on

some trifling alteration I made in a proof, he began the whole again;

and at the end of six months we were in less forwardness than on the

first day. During all these experiments I clearly perceived the work was

printing in France as well as in Holland, and that two editions of it

were preparing at the same time. What could I do? The manuscript was no

longer mine. Far from having anything to do with the edition in France,

I was always against it; but since, at length, this was preparing in

spite of all opposition, and was to serve as a model to the other, it

was necessary I should cast my eyes over it and examine the proofs, that

my work might not be mutilated. It was, besides, printed so much by the

consent of the magistrate, that it was he who, in some measure, directed

the undertaking; he likewise wrote to me frequently, and once came to

see me and converse on the subject upon an occasion of which I am going

to speak.

Whilst Duchesne crept like a snail, Neaulme, whom he withheld, scarcely

moved at all. The sheets were not regularly sent him as they were

printed. He thought there was some trick in the manoeuvre of Duchesne,

that is, of Guy who acted for him; and perceiving the terms of the

agreement to be departed from, he wrote me letter after letter full of

complaints, and it was less possible for me to remove the subject of

them than that of those I myself had to make. His friend Guerin, who at

that time came frequently to see my house, never ceased speaking to me

about the work, but always with the greatest reserve. He knew and he did

not know that it was printing in France, and that the magistrate had a

hand in it. In expressing his concern for my embarrassment, he seemed to

accuse me of imprudence without ever saying in what this consisted; he

incessantly equivocated, and seemed to speak for no other purpose than

to hear what I had to say. I thought myself so secure that I laughed

at his mystery and circumspection as at a habit he had contracted with

ministers and magistrates whose offices he much frequented. Certain of

having conformed to every rule with the work, and strongly persuaded

that I had not only the consent and protection of the magistrate, but

that the book merited and had obtained the favor of the minister, I

congratulated myself upon my courage in doing good, and laughed at my

pusillanimous friends who seemed uneasy on my account. Duclos was one of

these, and I confess my confidence in his understanding and uprightness

might have alarmed me, had I had less in the utility of the work and in

the probity of those by whom it was patronized. He came from the house

of M. Baille to see me whilst 'Emilius' was in the press; he spoke to

me concerning it; I read to him the 'Profession of Faith of the Savoyard

Vicar', to which he listened attentively and, as it seemed to me with

pleasure. When I had finished he said: "What! citizen, this is a part

of a work now printing in Paris?"--"Yes," answered I, and it ought to be

printed at the Louvre by order of the king."--I confess it," replied

he; "but pray do not mention to anybody your having read to me this

fragment."

This striking manner of expressing himself surprised without alarming

me. I knew Duclos was intimate with M. de Malesherbes, and I could not

conceive how it was possible he should think so differently from him

upon the same subject.

I had lived at Montmorency for the last four years without ever having

had there one day of good health. Although the air is excellent,

the water is bad, and this may possibly be one of the causes which

contributed to increase my habitual complaints. Towards the end of

the autumn of 1767, I fell quite ill, and passed the whole winter in

suffering almost without intermission. The physical ill, augmented by

a thousand inquietudes, rendered these terrible. For some time past my

mind had been disturbed by melancholy forebodings without my knowing

to what these directly tended. I received anonymous letters of an

extraordinary nature, and others, that were signed, much of the same

import. I received one from a counsellor of the parliament of Paris,

who, dissatisfied with the present constitution of things, and

foreseeing nothing but disagreeable events, consulted me upon the choice

of an asylum at Geneva or in Switzerland, to retire to with his family.

Another was brought me from M. de -----, 'president a mortier' of the

parliament of -----, who proposed to me to draw up for this Parliament,

which was then at variance with the court, memoirs and remonstrances,

and offering to furnish me with all the documents and materials

necessary for that purpose.

When I suffer I am subject to ill humor. This was the case when I

received these letters, and my answers to them, in which I flatly

refused everything that was asked of me, bore strong marks of the effect

they had had upon my mind. I do not however reproach myself with this

refusal, as the letters might be so many snares laid by my enemies, and

what was required of me was contrary to the principles from which I

was less willing than ever to swerve. But having it within my power to

refuse with politeness I did it with rudeness, and in this consists my

error.

[I knew, for instance, the President de ----- to be connected with

the Encyclopedists and the Holbachiens.]

The two letters of which I have just spoken will be found amongst my

papers. The letter from the chancellor did not absolutely surprise me,

because I agreed with him in opinion, and with many others, that the

declining constitution of France threatened an approaching destruction.

The disasters of an unsuccessful war, all of which proceeded from a

fault in the government; the incredible confusion in the finances; the

perpetual drawings upon the treasury by the administration, which

was then divided between two or three ministers, amongst whom reigned

nothing but discord, and who, to counteract the operations of each

other, let the kingdom go to ruin; the discontent of the people, and of

every other rank of subjects; the obstinacy of a woman who, constantly

sacrificing her judgment, if she indeed possessed any, to her

inclinations, kept from public employment persons capable of discharging

the duties of them, to place in them such as pleased her best;

everything occurred in justifying the foresight of the counsellor, that

of the public, and my own. This, made me several times consider whether

or not I myself should seek an asylum out of the kingdom before it

was torn by the dissensions by which it seemed to be threatened; but

relieved from my fears by my insignificance, and the peacefulness of

my disposition, I thought that in the state of solitude in which I was

determined to live, no public commotion could reach me. I was sorry

only that, in this state of things, M. de Luxembourg should accept

commissions which tended to injure him in the opinion of the persons of

the place of which he was governor. I could have wished he had prepared

himself a retreat there, in case the great machine had fallen in pieces,

which seemed much to be apprehended; and still appears to me beyond

a doubt, that if the reins of government had not fallen into a single

hand, the French monarchy would now be at the last gasp.

Whilst my situation became worse the printing of 'Emilius' went on more

slowly, and was at length suspended without my being able to learn the

reason why; Guy did not deign to answer my letter of inquiry, and I

could obtain no information from any person of what was going forward,

M. de Malesherbes being then in the country. A misfortune never makes

me uneasy provided I know in what it consists; but it is my nature to

be afraid of darkness, I tremble at the appearance of it; mystery always

gives me inquietude, it is too opposite to my natural disposition, in

which there is an openness bordering on imprudence. The sight of the

most hideous monster would, I am of opinion, alarm me but little; but if

by night I were to see a figure in a white sheet I should be afraid of

it. My imagination, wrought upon by this long silence, was now employed

in creating phantoms. I tormented myself the more in endeavoring to

discover the impediment to the printing of my last and best production,

as I had the publication of it much at heart; and as I always carried

everything to an extreme, I imagined that I perceived in the suspension

the suppression of the work. Yet, being unable to discover either the

cause or manner of it, I remained in the most cruel state of suspense.

I wrote letter after letter to Guy, to M. de Malesherbes and to Madam de

Luxembourg, and not receiving answers, at least when I expected them,

my head became so affected that I was not far from a delirium. I

unfortunately heard that Father Griffet, a Jesuit, had spoken of

'Emilius' and repeated from it some passages. My imagination instantly

unveiled to me the mystery of iniquity; I saw the whole progress of it

as clearly as if it had been revealed to me. I figured to myself that

the Jesuits, furious on account of the contemptuous manner in which I

had spoken of colleges, were in possession of my work; that it was they

who had delayed the publication; that, informed by their friend Guerin

of my situation, and foreseeing my approaching dissolution, of which I

myself had no manner of doubt, they wished to delay the appearance

of the work until after that event, with an intention to curtail

and mutilate it, and in favor of their own views, to attribute to me

sentiments not my own. The number of facts and circumstances which

occurred to my mind, in confirmation of this silly proposition, and gave

it an appearance of truth supported by evidence and demonstration,

is astonishing. I knew Guerin to be entirely in the interest of the

Jesuits. I attributed to them all the friendly advances he had made me;

I was persuaded he had, by their entreaties, pressed me to engage with

Neaulme, who had given them the first sheets of my work; that they

had afterwards found means to stop the printing of it by Duchesne, and

perhaps to get possession of the manuscript to make such alterations in

it as they should think proper, that after my death they might

publish it disguised in their own manner. I had always perceived,

notwithstanding the wheedling of Father Berthier, that the Jesuits did

not like me, not only as an Encyclopedist, but because all my principles

were more in opposition to their maxims and influence than the

incredulity of my colleagues, since atheistical and devout fanaticism,

approaching each other by their common enmity to toleration, may become

united; a proof of which is seen in China, and in the cabal against

myself; whereas religion, both reasonable and moral, taking away all

power over the conscience, deprives those who assume that power of every

resource. I knew the chancellor was a great friend to the Jesuits, and

I had my fears less the son, intimidated by the father, should find

himself under the necessity of abandoning the work he had protected. I

besides imagined that I perceived this to be the case in the chicanery

employed against me relative to the first two volumes, in which

alterations were required for reasons of which I could not feel the

force; whilst the other two volumes were known to contain things of such

a nature as, had the censor objected to them in the manner he did to

the passages he thought exceptionable in the others, would have required

their being entirely written over again. I also understood, and M. de

Malesherbes himself told me of it, that the Abbe de Grave, whom he had

charged with the inspection of this edition, was another partisan of the

Jesuits. I saw nothing but Jesuits, without considering that, upon the

point of being suppressed, and wholly taken up in making their defence,

they had something which interested them much more than the cavillings

relative to a work in which they were not in question. I am wrong,

however, in saying this did not occur to me; for I really thought of it,

and M. de Malesherbes took care to make the observation to me the

moment he heard of my extravagant suspicions. But by another of those

absurdities of a man, who, from the bosom of obscurity, will absolutely

judge of the secret of great affairs, with which he is totally

unacquainted. I never could bring myself to believe the Jesuits were

in danger, and I considered the rumor of their suppression as an

artful manoeuvre of their own to deceive their adversaries. Their past

successes, which had been uninterrupted, gave me so terrible an idea

of the power, that I already was grieved at the overthrow of the

parliament. I knew M. de Choiseul had prosecuted his studies under the

Jesuits, that Madam de Pompadour was not upon bad terms with them, and

that their league with favorites and ministers had constantly appeared

advantageous to their order against their common enemies. The court

seemed to remain neutral, and persuaded as I was that should the society

receive a severe check it would not come from the parliament, I saw in

the inaction of government the ground of their confidence and the omen

of their triumph. In fine, perceiving in the rumors of the day nothing

more than art and dissimulation on their part, and thinking they, in

their state of security, had time to watch over all their interests,

I had had not the least doubt of their shortly crushing Jansenism, the

parliament and the Encyclopedists, with every other association which

should not submit to their yoke; and that if they ever suffered my work

to appear, this would not happen until it should be so transformed as

to favor their pretensions, and thus make use of my name the better to

deceive my readers.

I felt my health and strength decline; and such was the horror with

which my mind was filled, at the idea of dishonor to my memory in the

work most worthy of myself, that I am surprised so many extravagant

ideas did not occasion a speedy end to my existence. I never was so much

afraid of death as at this time, and had I died with the apprehensions

I then had upon my mind, I should have died in despair. At present,

although I perceive no obstacle to the execution of the blackest and

most dreadful conspiracy ever formed against the memory of a man,

I shall die much more in peace, certain of leaving in my writings a

testimony in my favor, and one which, sooner or later, will triumph over

the calumnies of mankind.

M. de Malesherbes, who discovered the agitation of my mind, and to whom

I acknowledged it, used such endeavors to restore me to tranquility as

proved his excessive goodness of heart. Madam de Luxembourg aided him in

his good work, and several times went to Duchesne to know in what state

the edition was. At length the impression was again begun, and the

progress of it became more rapid than ever, without my knowing for what

reason it had been suspended. M. de Malesherbes took the trouble to

come to Montmorency to calm my mind; in this he succeeded, and the full

confidence I had in his uprightness having overcome the derangement

of my poor head, gave efficacy to the endeavors he made to restore it.

After what he had seen of my anguish and delirium, it was natural

he should think I was to be pitied; and he really commiserated my

situation. The expressions, incessantly repeated, of the philosophical

cabal by which he was surrounded, occurred to his memory. When I went to

live at the Hermitage, they, as I have already remarked, said I should

not remain there long. When they saw I persevered, they charged me with

obstinacy and pride, proceeding from a want of courage to retract, and

insisted that my life was there a burden to me; in short, that I was

very wretched. M. de Malesherbes believed this really to be the case,

and wrote to me upon the subject. This error in a man for whom I had

so much esteem gave me some pain, and I wrote to him four letters

successively, in which I stated the real motives of my conduct, and made

him fully acquainted with my taste, inclination and character, and

with the most interior sentiments of my heart. These letters, written

hastily, almost without taking pen from paper, and which I neither

copied, corrected, nor even read, are perhaps the only things I ever

wrote with facility, which, in the midst of my sufferings, was, I think,

astonishing. I sighed, as I felt myself declining, at the thought of

leaving in the midst of honest men an opinion of me so far from truth;

and by the sketch hastily given in my four letters, I endeavored, in

some measure, to substitute them to the memoirs I had proposed to write.

They are expressive of my grief to M. de Malesherbes, who showed them

in Paris, and are, besides, a kind of summary of what I here give in

detail, and, on this account, merit preservation. The copy I begged of

them some years afterwards will be found amongst my papers.

The only thing which continued to give me pain, in the idea of my

approaching dissolution, was my not having a man of letters for a

friend, to whom I could confide my papers, that after my death he might

take a proper choice of such as were worthy of publication.

After my journey to Geneva, I conceived a friendship for Moultou; this

young man pleased me, and I could have wished him to receive my last

breath. I expressed to him this desire, and am of opinion he would

readily have complied with it, had not his affairs prevented him from so

doing. Deprived of this consolation, I still wished to give him a mark

of my confidence by sending him the 'Profession of Faith of the Savoyard

Vicar' before it was published. He was pleased with the work, but did

not in his answer seem so fully to expect from it the effect of which I

had but little doubt. He wished to receive from me some fragment which

I had not given to anybody else. I sent him the funeral oration of the

late Duke of Orleans; this I had written for the Abbe Darty, who had not

pronounced it, because, contrary to his expectation, another person was

appointed to perform that ceremony.

The printing of Emilius, after having been again taken in hand, was

continued and completed without much difficulty; and I remarked this

singularity, that after the curtailings so much insisted upon in the

first two volumes, the last two were passed over without an objection,

and their contents did not delay the publication for a moment. I had,

however, some uneasiness which I must not pass over in silence. After

having been afraid of the Jesuits, I begun to fear the Jansenists and

philosophers. An enemy to party, faction and cabal, I never heard the

least good of parties concerned in them. The gossips had quitted their

old abode and taken up their residence by the side of me, so that

in their chamber, everything said in mine, and upon the terrace, was

distinctly heard; and from their garden it would have been easy to scale

the low wall by which it was separated from my alcove. This was become

my study; my table was covered with proofsheets of Emilius and the

Social Contract and stitching these sheets as they were sent to me, I

had all my volumes a long time before they were published. My negligence

and the confidence I had in M. Mathas, in whose garden I was shut up,

frequently made me forget to lock the door at night, and in the morning

I several times found it wide open; this, however, would not have given

me the least inquietude had I not thought my papers seemed to have been

deranged. After having several times made the same remark, I became more

careful, and locked the door. The lock was a bad one, and the key turned

in it no more than half round. As I became more attentive, I found my

papers in a much greater confusion than they were when I left everything

open. At length I missed one of my volumes without knowing what was

become of it until the morning of the third day, when I again found it

upon the table. I never suspected either M. Mathas or his nephew M. du

Moulin, knowing myself to be beloved by both, and my confidence in them

was unbounded. That I had in the gossips began to diminish. Although

they were Jansenists, I knew them to have some connection with D'

Alembert, and moreover they all three lodged in the same house. This

gave me some uneasiness, and put me more upon my guard. I removed my

papers from the alcove to my chamber, and dropped my acquaintance with

these people, having learned they had shown in several houses the first

volume of 'Emilius', which I had been imprudent enough to lend them.

Although they continued until my departure to be my neighbors I never,

after my first suspicions, had the least communication with them. The

'Social Contract' appeared a month or two before 'Emilius'. Rey, whom

I had desired never secretly to introduce into France any of my books,

applied to the magistrate for leave to send this book by Rouen, to which

place he sent his package by sea. He received no answer, and his bales,

after remaining at Rouen several months, were returned to him, but not

until an attempt had been made to confiscate them; this, probably, would

have been done had not he made a great clamor. Several persons, whose

curiosity the work had excited, sent to Amsterdam for copies, which were

circulated without being much noticed. Maulion, who had heard of this,

and had, I believe, seen the work, spoke to me on the subject with

an air of mystery which surprised me, and would likewise have made

me uneasy if, certain of having conformed to every rule, I had not by

virtue of my grand maxim, kept my mind calm. I moreover had no doubt but

M. de Choiseul, already well disposed towards me, and sensible of the

eulogium of his administration, which my esteem for him had induced me

to make in the work, would support me against the malevolence of Madam

de Pompadour.

I certainly had then as much reason as ever to hope for the goodness of

M. de Luxembourg, and even for his assistance in case of need; for he

never at any time had given me more frequent and more pointed marks of

his friendship. At the journey of Easter, my melancholy state no longer

permitting me to go to the castle, he never suffered a day to pass

without coming to see me, and at length, perceiving my sufferings to

be incessant, he prevailed upon me to determine to see Friar Come. He

immediately sent for him, came with him, and had the courage, uncommon

to a man of his rank, to remain with me during the operation which was

cruel and tedious. Upon the first examination, Come thought he found a

great stone, and told me so; at the second, he could not find it again.

After having made a third attempt with so much care and circumspection

that I thought the time long, he declared there was no stone, but that

the prostate gland was schirrous and considerably thickened. He besides

added, that I had a great deal to suffer, and should live a long time.

Should the second prediction be as fully accomplished as the first, my

sufferings are far from being at an end.

It was thus I learned after having been so many years treated for

disorders which I never had, that my incurable disease, without being

mortal, would last as long as myself. My imagination, repressed by this

information, no longer presented to me in prospective a cruel death in

the agonies of the stone.

Delivered from imaginary evils, more cruel to me than those which were

real, I more patiently suffered the latter. It is certain I have since

suffered less from my disorder than I had done before, and every time

I recollect that I owe this alleviation to M. de Luxembourg, his memory

becomes more dear to me.

Restored, as I may say, to life, and more than ever occupied with the

plan according to which I was determined to pass the rest of my days,

all the obstacle to the immediate execution of my design was the

publication of 'Emilius'. I thought of Touraine where I had already been

and which pleased me much, as well on account of the mildness of the

climate, as on that of the character of the inhabitants.

'La terra molle lieta a dilettosa

Simile a se l'habitator produce.'

I had already spoken of my project to M. de Luxembourg, who endeavored

to dissuade me from it; I mentioned it to him a second time as a thing

resolved upon. He then offered me the castle of Merlon, fifteen leagues

from Paris, as an asylum which might be agreeable to me, and where he

and Madam de Luxembourg would have a real pleasure in seeing me settled.

The proposition made a pleasing impression on my mind. But the first

thing necessary was to see the place, and we agreed upon a day when the

marechal was to send his valet de chambre with a carriage to take me

to it. On the day appointed, I was much indisposed; the journey was

postponed, and different circumstances prevented me from ever making it.

I have since learned the estate of Merlou did not belong to the marechal

but to his lady, on which account I was the less sorry I had not gone to

live there.

'Emilius' was at length given to the public, without my having heard

further of retrenchments or difficulties. Previous to the publication,

the marechal asked me for all the letters M. de Malesherbes had written

to me on the subject of the work. My great confidence in both, and the

perfect security in which I felt myself, prevented me from reflecting

upon this extraordinary and even alarming request. I returned all the

letters excepting one or two which, from inattention, were left between

the leaves of a book. A little time before this, M. de Malesherbes told

me he should withdraw the letters I had written to Duchesne during my

alarm relative to the Jesuits, and, it must be confessed, these letters

did no great honor to my reason. But in my answer I assured him I would

not in anything pass for being better than I was, and that he might

leave the letters where they were. I know not what he resolved upon.

The publication of this work was not succeeded by the applause which

had followed that of all my other writings. No work was ever more highly

spoken of in private, nor had any literary production ever had less

public approbation. What was said and written to me upon the subject by

persons most capable of judging, confirmed me in my opinion that it was

the best, as well as the most important of all the works I had produced.

But everything favorable was said with an air of the most extraordinary

mystery, as if there had been a necessity of keeping it a secret. Madam

de Boufflers, who wrote to me that the author of the work merited a

statue, and the homage of mankind, at the end of her letter desired it

might be returned to her. D'Alembert, who in his note said the work gave

me a decided superiority, and ought to place me at the head of men of

letters, did not sign what he wrote, although he had signed every note I

had before received from him. Duclos, a sure friend, a man of veracity,

but circumspect, although he had a good opinion of the work, avoided

mentioning it in his letters to me. La Condomine fell upon the

Confession of Faith, and wandered from the subject. Clairaut confined

himself to the same part; but he was not afraid of expressing to me

the emotion which the reading of it had caused in him, and in the most

direct terms wrote to me that it had warmed his old imagination: of

all those to whom I had sent my book, he was the only person who spoke

freely what he thought of it.

Mathas, to whom I also had given a copy before the publication, lent

it to M. de Blaire, counsellor in the parliament of Strasbourg. M.

de Blaire had a country-house at St. Gratien, and Mathas, his old

acquaintance, sometimes went to see him there. He made him read Emilius

before it was published. When he returned it to him, M. de Blaire

expressed himself in the following terms, which were repeated to me the

same day: "M. Mathas, this is a very fine work, but it will in a short

time be spoken of more than, for the author, might be wished." I laughed

at the prediction, and saw in it nothing more than the importance of a

man of the robe, who treats everything with an air of mystery. All the

alarming observations repeated to me made no impression upon my mind,

and, far from foreseeing the catastrophe so near at hand, certain of

the utility and excellence of my work, and that I had in every respect

conformed to established rules; convinced, as I thought I was that I

should be supported by all the credit of M. de Luxembourg and the favor

of the ministry, I was satisfied with myself for the resolution I had

taken to retire in the midst of my triumphs, and at my return to crush

those by whom I was envied.

One thing in the publication of the work alarmed me, less on account of

my safety than for the unburdening of my mind. At the Hermitage and at

Montmorency I had seen with indignation the vexations which the jealous

care of the pleasures of princes causes to be exercised on wretched

peasants, forced to suffer the havoc made by game in their fields,

without daring to take any other measure to prevent this devastation

than that of making a noise, passing the night amongst the beans and

peas, with drums, kettles and bells, to keep off the wild boars. As

I had been a witness to the barbarous cruelty with which the Comte de

Charolois treated these poor people, I had toward the end of Emilius

exclaimed against it. This was another infraction of my maxims, which

has not remained unpunished. I was informed that the people of the

Prince of Conti were but little less severe upon his estates; I trembled

lest that prince, for whom I was penetrated with respect and gratitude,

should take to his own account what shocked humanity had made me say on

that of others, and feel himself offended. Yet, as my conscience fully

acquitted me upon this article, I made myself easy, and by so doing

acted wisely: at least, I have not heard that this great prince took

notice of the passage, which, besides, was written long before I had the

honor of being known to him.

A few days either before or after the publication of my work, for I do

not exactly recollect the time, there appeared another work upon the

same subject, taken verbatim from my first volume, except a few stupid

things which were joined to the extract. The book bore the name of a

Genevese, one Balexsert, and, according to the title-page, had gained

the premium in the Academy of Harlem. I easily imagined the academy and

the premium to be newly founded, the better to conceal the plagiarism

from the eyes of the public; but I further perceived there was some

prior intrigue which I could not unravel; either by the lending of my

manuscript, without which the theft could not have been committed, or

for the purpose of forging the story of the pretended premium, to which

it was necessary to give some foundation. It was not until several years

afterwards, that by a word which escaped D'Ivernois, I penetrated the

mystery and discovered those by whom Balexsert had been brought forward.

The low murmurings which precede a storm began to be heard, and men of

penetration clearly saw there was something gathering, relative to me

and my book, which would shortly break over my head. For my part my

stupidity was such, that, far from foreseeing my misfortune, I did

not suspect even the cause of it after I had felt its effect. It was

artfully given out that while the Jesuits were treated with severity,

no indulgence could be shown to books nor the authors of them in which

religion was attacked. I was reproached with having put my name to

Emilius, as if I had not put it to all my other works of which nothing

was said. Government seemed to fear it should be obliged to take

some steps which circumstances rendered necessary on account of my

imprudence. Rumors to this effect reached my ears, but gave me not much

uneasiness: it never even came into my head, that there could be the

least thing in the whole affair which related to me personally, so

perfectly irreproachable and well supported did I think myself; having

besides conformed to every ministerial regulation, I did not apprehend

Madam de Luxembourg would leave me in difficulties for an error, which,

if it existed, proceeded entirely from herself. But knowing the manner

of proceeding in like cases, and that it was customary to punish

booksellers while authors were favored; I had some uneasiness on account

of poor Duchesne, whom I saw exposed to danger, should M. de Malesherbes

abandon him.

My tranquility still continued. Rumors increased and soon changed their

nature. The public, and especially the parliament, seemed irritated by

my composure. In a few days the fermentation became terrible, and the

object of the menaces being changed, these were immediately addressed to

me. The parliamentarians were heard to declare that burning books was of

no effect, the authors also should be burned with them; not a word was

said of the booksellers. The first time these expressions, more worthy

of an inquisitor of Goa than a senator, were related to me, I had no

doubt of their coming from the Holbachiques with an intention to alarm

me and drive me from France. I laughed at their puerile manoeuvre, and

said they would, had they known the real state of things, have thought

of some other means of inspiring me with fear; but the rumor at length

became such that I perceived the matter was serious. M. and Madam de

Luxembourg had this year come to Montmorency in the month of June,

which, for their second journey, was more early than common. I heard

but little there of my new books, notwithstanding the noise they made in

Paris; neither the marechal nor his lady said a single word to me on

the subject. However, one morning, when M. de Luxembourg and I were

together, he asked me if, in the 'Social Contract', I had spoken ill of

M. de Choiseul. "I?" said I, retreating a few steps with surprise; "no,

I swear to you I have not; but on the contrary, I have made on him,

and with a pen not given to praise, the finest eulogium a minister ever

received." I then showed him the passage. "And in Emilius?" replied he.

"Not a word," said I; "there is not in it a single word which relates

to him."--"Ah!" said he, with more vivacity than was common to him, "you

should have taken the same care in the other book, or have expressed

yourself more clearly!" "I thought," replied I, "what I wrote could

not be misconstrued; my esteem for him was such as to make me extremely

cautious not to be equivocal."

He was again going to speak; I perceived him ready to open his mind: he

stopped short and held his tongue. Wretched policy of a courtier, which

in the best of hearts, subjugates friendship itself!

This conversation although short, explained to me my situation, at

least in certain respects, and gave me to understand that it was against

myself the anger of administration was raised. The unheard of fatality,

which turned to my prejudice all the good I did and wrote, afflicted

my heart. Yet, feeling myself shielded in this affair by Madam de

Luxembourg and M. de Malesherbes, I did not perceive in what my

persecutors could deprive me of their protection. However, I, from that

moment was convinced equity and judgment were no longer in question,

and that no pains would be spared in examining whether or not I

was culpable. The storm became still more menacing. Neaulme himself

expressed to me, in the excess of his babbling, how much he repented

having had anything to do in the business, and his certainty of the fate

with which the book and the author were threatened. One thing, however,

alleviated my fears: Madam de Luxembourg was so calm, satisfied and

cheerful, that I concluded she must necessarily be certain of the

sufficiency of her credit, especially if she did not seem to have the

least apprehension on my account; moreover, she said not to me a word

either of consolation or apology, and saw the turn the affair took with

as much unconcern as if she had nothing to do with it or anything else

that related to me. What surprised me most was her silence. I thought

she should have said something on the subject. Madam de Boufflers seemed

rather uneasy. She appeared agitated, strained herself a good deal,

assured me the Prince of Conti was taking great pains to ward off the

blow about to be directed against my person, and which she attributed

to the nature of present circumstances, in which it was of importance

to the parliament not to leave the Jesuits an opening whereby they might

bring an accusation against it as being indifferent with respect to

religion. She did not, however, seem to depend much either upon

the success of her own efforts or even those of the prince. Her

conversations, more alarming than consolatory, all tended to persuade

me to leave the kingdom and go to England, where she offered me

an introduction to many of her friends, amongst others one to the

celebrated Hume, with whom she had long been upon a footing of intimate

friendship. Seeing me still unshaken, she had recourse to other

arguments more capable of disturbing my tranquillity. She intimated

that, in case I was arrested and interrogated, I should be under the

necessity of naming Madam de Luxembourg, and that her friendship for me

required, on my part, such precautions as were necessary to prevent her

being exposed. My answer was, that should what she seemed to apprehend

come to pass, she need not be alarmed; that I should do nothing by

which the lady she mentioned might become a sufferer. She said such a

resolution was more easily taken than adhered to, and in this she was

right, especially with respect to me, determined as I always have been

neither to prejudice myself nor lie before judges, whatever danger there

might be in speaking the truth.

Perceiving this observation had made some impression upon my mind,

without however inducing me to resolve upon evasion, she spoke of the

Bastile for a few weeks, as a means of placing me beyond the reach

of the jurisdiction of the parliament, which has nothing to do with

prisoners of state. I had no objection to this singular favor, provided

it were not solicited in my name. As she never spoke of it a second

time, I afterwards thought her proposition was made to sound me, and

that the party did not think proper to have recourse to an expedient

which would have put an end to everything.

A few days afterwards the marechal received from the Cure de Dueil, the

friend of Grimm and Madam d'Epinay, a letter informing him, as from

good authority, that the parliament was to proceed against me with the

greatest severity, and that, on a day which he mentioned, an order

was to be given to arrest me. I imagined this was fabricated by the

Holbachiques; I knew the parliament to be very attentive to forms,

and that on this occasion, beginning by arresting me before it was

juridically known I avowed myself the author of the book was violating

them all. I observed to Madam de Boufflers that none but persons accused

of crimes which tend to endanger the public safety were, on a simple

information, ordered to be arrested lest they should escape punishment.

But when government wish to punish a crime like mine, which merits honor

and recompense, the proceedings are directed against the book, and the

author is as much as possible left out of the question.

Upon this she made some subtle distinction, which I have forgotten,

to prove that ordering me to be arrested instead of summoning me to be

heard was a matter of favor. The next day I received a letter from

Guy, who informed me that having in the morning been with the

attorney-general, he had seen in his office a rough draft of a

requisition against Emilius and the author. Guy, it is to be remembered,

was the partner of Duchesne, who had printed the work, and without

apprehensions on his own account, charitably gave this information to

the author. The credit I gave to him maybe judged of.

It was, no doubt, a very probable story, that a bookseller, admitted to

an audience by the attorney-general, should read at ease scattered rough

drafts in the office of that magistrate! Madam de Boufflers and others

confirmed what he had said. By the absurdities which were incessantly

rung in my ears, I was almost tempted to believe that everybody I heard

speak had lost their senses.

Clearly perceiving that there was some mystery, which no one thought

proper to explain to me, I patiently awaited the event, depending

upon my integrity and innocence, and thinking myself happy, let the

persecution which awaited me be what it would, to be called to the honor

of suffering in the cause of truth. Far from being afraid and concealing

myself, I went every day to the castle, and in the afternoon took my

usual walk. On the eighth of June, the evening before the order was

concluded on, I walked in company with two professors of the oratory,

Father Alamanni and Father Mandard. We carried to Champeaux a little

collation, which we ate with a keen appetite. We had forgotten to bring

glasses, and supplied the want of them by stalks of rye, through which

we sucked up the wine from the bottle, piquing ourselves upon the choice

of large tubes to vie with each other in pumping up what we drank. I

never was more cheerful in my life.

I have related in what manner I lost my sleep during my youth. I had

since that time contracted a habit of reading every night in my bed,

until I found my eyes begin to grow heavy. I then extinguished my

wax taper, and endeavored to slumber for a few moments, which were in

general very short. The book I commonly read at night was the Bible,

which, in this manner I read five or six times from the beginning to the

end. This evening, finding myself less disposed to sleep than ordinary,

I continued my reading beyond the usual hour, and read the whole book

which finishes at the Levite of Ephraim, the Book of judges, if I

mistake not, for since that time I have never once seen it. This history

affected me exceedingly, and, in a kind of a dream, my imagination still

ran on it, when suddenly I was roused from my stupor by a noise and

light. Theresa carrying a candle, lighted M. la Roche, who perceiving me

hastily raise myself up, said: "Do not be alarmed; I come from Madam de

Luxembourg, who, in her letter incloses you another from the Prince of

Conti." In fact, in the letter of Madam de Luxembourg I found another,

which an express from the prince had brought her, stating that,

notwithstanding all his efforts, it was determined to proceed against me

with the utmost rigor. "The fermentation," said he, "is extreme; nothing

can ward off the blow; the court requires it, and the parliament will

absolutely proceed; at seven o'clock in the morning an order will be

made to arrest him, and persons will immediately be sent to execute it.

I have obtained a promise that he shall not be pursued if he makes his

escape; but if he persists in exposing himself to be taken this

will immediately happen." La Roche conjured me in behalf of Madam de

Luxembourg to rise and go and speak to her. It was two o'clock and she

had just retired to bed. "She expects you," added he, "and will not go

to sleep without speaking to you." I dressed myself in haste and ran to

her.

She appeared to be agitated; this was for the first time. Her distress

affected me. In this moment of surprise and in the night, I myself was

not free from emotion; but on seeing her I forgot my own situation, and

thought of nothing but the melancholy part she would have to act should

I suffer myself to be arrested; for feeling I had sufficient courage

strictly to adhere to truth, although I might be certain of its being

prejudicial or even destructive to me, I was convinced I had not

presence of mind, address, nor perhaps firmness enough, not to expose

her should I be closely pressed. This determined me to sacrifice my

reputation to her tranquillity, and to do for her that which nothing

could have prevailed upon me to do for myself. The moment I had come to

this resolution, I declared it, wishing not to diminish the magnitude

of the sacrifice by giving her the least trouble to obtain it. I am sure

she could not mistake my motive, although she said not a word, which

proved to me she was sensible of it. I was so much shocked at her

indifference that I, for a moment, thought of retracting; but the

marechal came in, and Madam de Boufflers arrived from Paris a few

moments afterwards. They did what Madam de Luxembourg ought to have

done. I suffered myself to be flattered; I was ashamed to retract; and

the only thing that remained to be determined upon was the place of my

retreat and the time of my departure. M. de Luxembourg proposed to me to

remain incognito a few days at the castle, that we might deliberate at

leisure, and take such measures as should seem most proper; to this

I would not consent, no more than to go secretly to the temple. I was

determined to set off the same day rather than remain concealed in any

place whatever.

Knowing I had secret and powerful enemies in the kingdom, I thought,

notwithstanding my attachment to France, I ought to quit it, the better

to insure my future tranquillity. My first intention was to retire to

Geneva, but a moment of reflection was sufficient to dissuade me from

committing that act of folly; I knew the ministry of France, more

powerful at Geneva than at Paris, would not leave me more at peace

in one of these cities than in the other, were a resolution taken to

torment me. I was also convinced the 'Discourse upon Inequality' had

excited against me in the council a hatred the more dangerous as the

council dared not make it manifest. I had also learned, that when the

New Eloisa appeared, the same council had immediately forbidden the sale

of that work, upon the solicitation of Doctor Tronchin; but perceiving

the example not to be imitated, even in Paris, the members were ashamed

of what they had done, and withdrew the prohibition.

I had no doubt that, finding in the present case a more favorable

opportunity, they would be very careful to take advantage of it.

Notwithstanding exterior appearances, I knew there reigned against me

in the heart of every Genevese a secret jealousy, which, in the first

favorable moment, would publicly show itself. Nevertheless, the love of

my country called me to it, and could I have flattered myself I should

there have lived in peace, I should not have hesitated; but neither

honor nor reason permitting me to take refuge as a fugitive in a place

of which I was a citizen, I resolved to approach it only, and to wait in

Switzerland until something relative to me should be determined upon

in Geneva. This state of uncertainty did not, as it will soon appear,

continue long.

Madam de Boufflers highly disapproved this resolution, and renewed her

efforts to induce me to go to England, but all she could say was of no

effect; I had never loved England nor the English, and the eloquence

of Madam de Boufflers, far from conquering my repugnancy, seemed to

increase it without my knowing why. Determined to set off the same day,

I was from the morning inaccessible to everybody, and La Roche, whom

I sent to fetch my papers, would not tell Theresa whether or not I was

gone. Since I had determined to write my own memoirs, I had collected

a great number of letters and other papers, so that he was obliged to

return several times. A part of these papers, already selected, were

laid aside, and I employed the morning in sorting the rest, that I might

take with me such only as were necessary and destroy what remained. M.

de Luxembourg was kind enough to assist me in this business, which we

could not finish before it was necessary I should set off, and I had not

time to burn a single paper. The marechal offered to take upon himself

to sort what I should leave behind me, and throw into the fire every

sheet that he found useless, without trusting to any person whomsoever,

and to send me those of which he should make choice. I accepted his

offer, very glad to be delivered from that care, that I might pass the

few hours I had to remain with persons so dear to me, from whom I was

going to separate forever. He took the key of the chamber in which I

had left these papers; and, at my earnest solicitation, sent for my poor

aunt, who, not knowing what had become of me, or what was to become of

herself, and in momentary expectation of the arrival of the officers

of justice, without knowing how to act or what to answer them, was

miserable to an extreme. La Roche accompanied her to the castle in

silence; she thought I was already far from Montmorency; on perceiving

me, she made the place resound with her cries, and threw herself into my

arms. Oh, friendship, affinity of sentiment, habit and intimacy. In this

pleasing yet cruel moment, the remembrance of so many days of happiness,

tenderness and peace passed together augmented the grief of a first

separation after an union of seventeen years during which we had

scarcely lost sight of each other for a single day.

[Illustration: 0248

The marechal, who saw this embrace, could not suppress his tears. He

withdrew. Theresa determined never more to leave me out of her sight. I

made her feel the inconvenience of accompanying me at that moment, and

the necessity of her remaining to take care of my effects and collect my

money. When an order is made to arrest a man, it is customary to seize

his papers and put a seal upon his effects, or to make an inventory of

them and appoint a guardian to whose care they are intrusted. It was

necessary Theresa should remain to observe what passed, and get

everything settled in the most advantageous manner possible. I promised

her she should shortly come to me; the marechal confirmed my promise;

but I did not choose to tell her to what place I was going, that, in

case of being interrogated by the persons who came to take me into

custody, she might with truth plead ignorance upon that head. In

embracing her the moment before we separated I felt within me a most

extraordinary emotion, and I said to her with an agitation which, alas!

was but too prophetic: "My dear girl, you must arm yourself with

courage. You have partaken of my prosperity; it now remains to you,

since you have chosen it, to partake of my misery. Expect nothing in

future but insult and calamity in following me. The destiny begun for me

by this melancholy day will pursue me until my latest hour."

I had now nothing to think of but my departure. The officers were to

arrive at ten o'clock. It was four in the afternoon when I set off, and

they were not yet come. It was determined I should take post. I had no

carriage, The marechal made me a present of a cabriolet, and lent me

horses and a postillion the first stage, where, in consequence of the

measures he had taken, I had no difficulty in procuring others.

As I had not dined at table, nor made my appearance in the castle, the

ladies came to bid me adieu in the entresol where I had passed the day.

Madam de Luxembourg embraced me several times with a melancholy air; but

I did not in these embraces feel the pressing I had done in those she

had lavished upon me two or three years before. Madam de Boufflers

also embraced me, and said to me many civil things. An embrace which

surprised me more than all the rest had done was one from Madam de

Mirepoix, for she also was at the castle. Madam la Marechale de Mirepoix

is a person extremely cold, decent, and reserved, and did not, at least

as she appeared to me, seem quite exempt from the natural haughtiness of

the house of Lorraine. She had never shown me much attention. Whether,

flattered by an honor I had not expected, I endeavored to enhance the

value of it; or that there really was in the embrace a little of that

commiseration natural to generous hearts, I found in her manner and

look something energetical which penetrated me. I have since that time

frequently thought that, acquainted with my destiny, she could not

refrain from a momentary concern for my fate.

The marechal did not open his mouth; he was as pale as death. He would

absolutely accompany me to the carriage which waited at the watering

place. We crossed the garden without uttering a single word. I had a

key of the park with which I opened the gate, and instead of putting

it again into my pocket, I held it out to the marechal without saying a

word. He took it with a vivacity which surprised me, and which has since

frequently intruded itself upon my thoughts.

I have not in my whole life had a more bitter moment than that of this

separation. Our embrace was long and silent: we both felt that this was

our last adieu.

Between Barre and Montmorency I met, in a hired carriage, four men in

black, who saluted me smilingly. According to what Theresa has since

told me of the officers of justice, the hour of their arrival and their

manner of behavior, I have no doubt, that they were the persons I met,

especially as the order to arrest me, instead of being made out at seven

o'clock, as I had been told it would, had not been given till noon. I

had to go through Paris. A person in a cabriolet is not much concealed.

I saw several persons in the streets who saluted me with an air of

familiarity but I did not know one of them. The same evening I changed

my route to pass Villeroy. At Lyons the couriers were conducted to the

commandant. This might have been embarrassing to a man unwilling either

to lie or change his name. I went with a letter from Madam de Luxembourg

to beg M. de Villeroy would spare me this disagreeable ceremony. M. de

Villeroy gave me a letter of which I made no use, because I did not go

through Lyons. This letter still remains sealed up amongst my papers.

The duke pressed me to sleep at Villeroy, but I preferred returning

to the great road, which I did, and travelled two more stages the same

evening.

My carriage was inconvenient and uncomfortable, and I was too

much indisposed to go far in a day. My appearance besides was not

sufficiently distinguished for me to be well served, and in France

post-horses feel the whip in proportion to the favorable opinion the

postillion has of his temporary master. By paying the guides generously

thought I should make up for my shabby appearance: this was still worse.

They took me for a worthless fellow who was carrying orders, and, for

the first time in my life, travelling post. From that moment I had

nothing but worn-out hacks, and I became the sport of the postillions.

I ended as I should have begun by being patient, holding my tongue, and

suffering myself to be driven as my conductors thought proper.

I had sufficient matter of reflection to prevent me from being weary on

the road, employing myself in the recollection of that which had just

happened; but this was neither my turn of mind nor the inclination of my

heart. The facility with which I forget past evils, however recent they

may be, is astonishing. The remembrance of them becomes feeble, and,

sooner or later, effaced, in the inverse proportion to the greater

degree of fear with which the approach of them inspires me. My cruel

imagination, incessantly tormented by the apprehension of evils still

at a distance, diverts my attention, and prevents me from recollecting

those which are past. Caution is needless after the evil has happened,

and it is time lost to give it a thought. I, in some measure, put a

period to my misfortunes before they happen: the more I have suffered

at their approach the greater is the facility with which I forget them;

whilst, on the contrary, incessantly recollecting my past happiness,

I, if I may so speak, enjoy it a second time at pleasure. It is to this

happy disposition I am indebted for an exemption from that ill humor

which ferments in a vindictive mind, by the continual remembrance of

injuries received, and torments it with all the evil it wishes to do its

enemy. Naturally choleric, I have felt all the force of anger, which in

the first moments has sometimes been carried to fury, but a desire of

vengeance never took root within me. I think too little of the offence

to give myself much trouble about the offender. I think of the injury

I have received from him on account of that he may do me a second time,

but were I certain he would never do me another the first would be

instantly forgotten. Pardon of offences is continually preached to us.

I knew not whether or not my heart would be capable of overcoming its

hatred, for it never yet felt that passion, and I give myself too little

concern about my enemies to have the merit of pardoning them. I will not

say to what a degree, in order to torment me, they torment themselves.

I am at their mercy, they have unbounded power, and make of it what use

they please. There is but one thing in which I set them at defiance:

which is in tormenting themselves about me, to force me to give myself

the least trouble about them.

The day after my departure I had so perfectly forgotten what had

passed, the parliament, Madam de Pompadour, M. de Choiseul, Grimm,

and D'Alembert, with their conspiracies, that had not it been for the

necessary precautions during the journey I should have thought no more

of them. The remembrance of one thing which supplied the place of all

these was what I had read the evening before my departure. I recollect,

also, the pastorals of Gessner, which his translator Hubert had sent me

a little time before. These two ideas occurred to me so strongly, and

were connected in such a manner in my mind, that I was determined to

endeavor to unite them by treating after the manner of Gessner, the

subject of the Levite of Ephraim. His pastoral and simple style appeared

to me but little fitted to so horrid a subject, and it was not to be

presumed the situation I was then in would furnish me with such ideas as

would enliven it. However, I attempted the thing, solely to amuse myself

in my cabriolet, and without the least hope of success. I had no sooner

begun than I was astonished at the liveliness of my ideas, and the

facility with which I expressed them. In three days I composed the first

three cantos of the little poem I finished at Motiers, and I am

certain of not having done anything in my life in which there is a more

interesting mildness of manners, a greater brilliancy of coloring, more

simple delineations, greater exactness of proportion, or more antique

simplicity in general, notwithstanding the horror of the subject which

in itself is abominable, so that besides every other merit I had still

that of a difficulty conquered. If the Levite of Ephraim be not the best

of my works, it will ever be that most esteemed. I have never read, nor

shall I ever read it again without feeling interiorly the applause of a

heart without acrimony, which, far from being embittered by misfortunes,

is susceptible of consolation in the midst of them, and finds within

itself a resource by which they are counterbalanced. Assemble the great

philosophers, so superior in their books to adversity which they do not

suffer, place them in a situation similar to mine, and, in the first

moments of the indignation of their injured honor, give them a like

work to compose, and it will be seen in what manner they will acquit

themselves of the task.

When I set off from Montmorency to go into Switzerland, I had resolved

to stop at Yverdon, at the house of my old friend Roguin, who had

several years before retired to that place, and had invited me to go and

see him. I was told Lyons was not the direct road, for which reason I

avoided going through it. But I was obliged to pass through Besancon,

a fortified town, and consequently subject to the same inconvenience.

I took it into my head to turn about and to go to Salins, under the

pretense of going to see M. de Marian, the nephew of M. Dupin, who

had an employment at the salt-works, and formerly had given me many

invitations to his house. The expedition succeeded: M. de Marian was

not in the way, and, happily, not being obliged to stop, I continued my

journey without being spoken to by anybody.

The moment I was within the territory of Berne, I ordered the postillion

to stop; I got out of my carriage, prostrated myself, kissed the ground,

and exclaimed in a transport of joy: "Heaven, the protector of virtue be

praised, I touch a land of liberty!" Thus blind and unsuspecting in my

hopes, have I ever been passionately attached to that which was to make

me unhappy. The man thought me mad. I got into the carriage, and a

few hours afterwards I had the pure and lively satisfaction of feeling

myself pressed within the arms of the respectable Rougin. Ah! let me

breathe for a moment with this worthy host! It is necessary I should

gain strength and courage before I proceed further. I shall soon find

that in my way which will give employment to them both. It is not

without reason that I have been diffuse in the recital of all the

circumstances I have been able to recollect. Although they may seem

uninteresting, yet, when once the thread of the conspiracy is got

hold of, they may throw some light upon the progress of it; and, for

instance, without giving the first idea of the problem I am going to

propose, afford some aid in solving it.

Suppose that, for the execution of the conspiracy of which I was the

object, my absence was absolutely necessary, everything tending to that

effect could not have happened otherwise than it did; but if without

suffering myself to be alarmed by the nocturnal embassy of Madam de

Luxembourg, I had continued to hold out, and, instead of remaining at

the castle, had returned to my bed and quietly slept until morning,

should I have equally had an order of arrest made out against me? This

is a great question upon which the solution of many others depends, and

for the examination of it, the hour of the comminatory decree of arrest,

and that of the real decree may be remarked to advantage. A rude but

sensible example of the importance of the least detail in the exposition

of facts, of which the secret causes are sought for to discover them by

induction.