Produced by David Widger
THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
(In 12 books)
Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society
London, 1903
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
more, over the cicisbe, 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 detects; 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. An
other 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,
[I knew, for instance, the President de----- to be connected with
the Encyclopedists and the Holbachiens]
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.