BOOK I.

I have entered upon a performance which is without example, whose

accomplishment will have no imitator. I mean to present my

fellow-mortals with a man in all the integrity of nature; and this man

shall be myself.

I know my heart, and have studied mankind; I am not made like any one I

have been acquainted with, perhaps like no one in existence; if not

better, I at least claim originality, and whether Nature did wisely in

breaking the mould with which she formed me, can only be determined after

having read this work.

Whenever the last trumpet shall sound, I will present myself before the

sovereign judge with this book in my hand, and loudly proclaim, thus have

I acted; these were my thoughts; such was I. With equal freedom and

veracity have I related what was laudable or wicked, I have concealed no

crimes, added no virtues; and if I have sometimes introduced superfluous

ornament, it was merely to occupy a void occasioned by defect of memory:

I may have supposed that certain, which I only knew to be probable, but

have never asserted as truth, a conscious falsehood. Such as I was, I

have declared myself; sometimes vile and despicable, at others, virtuous,

generous and sublime; even as thou hast read my inmost soul: Power

eternal! assemble round thy throne an innumerable throng of my

fellow-mortals, let them listen to my confessions, let them blush at my

depravity, let them tremble at my sufferings; let each in his turn expose

with equal sincerity the failings, the wanderings of his heart, and, if

he dare, aver, I was better than that man.

I was born at Geneva, in 1712, son of Isaac Rousseau and Susannah

Bernard, citizens. My father's share of a moderate competency, which was

divided among fifteen children, being very trivial, his business of a

watchmaker (in which he had the reputation of great ingenuity) was his

only dependence. My mother's circumstances were more affluent; she was

daughter of a Mons. Bernard, minister, and possessed a considerable share

of modesty and beauty; indeed, my father found some difficulty in

obtaining her hand.

The affection they entertained for each other was almost as early as

their existence; at eight or nine years old they walked together every

evening on the banks of the Treille, and before they were ten, could not

support the idea of separation. A natural sympathy of soul confined

those sentiments of predilection which habit at first produced; born with

minds susceptible of the most exquisite sensibility and tenderness, it

was only necessary to encounter similar dispositions; that moment

fortunately presented itself, and each surrendered a willing heart.

The obstacles that opposed served only to give a decree of vivacity to

their affection, and the young lover, not being able to obtain his

mistress, was overwhelmed with sorrow and despair. She advised him to

travel--to forget her. He consented--he travelled, but returned more

passionate than ever, and had the happiness to find her equally constant,

equally tender. After this proof of mutual affection, what could they

resolve?--to dedicate their future lives to love! the resolution was

ratified with a vow, on which Heaven shed its benediction.

Fortunately, my mother's brother, Gabriel Bernard, fell in love with one

of my father's sisters; she had no objection to the match, but made the

marriage of his sister with her brother an indispensable preliminary.

Love soon removed every obstacle, and the two weddings were celebrated

the same day: thus my uncle became the husband of my aunt, and their

children were doubly cousins german. Before a year was expired, both had

the happiness to become fathers, but were soon after obliged to submit to

a separation.

My uncle Bernard, who was an engineer, went to serve in the empire and

Hungary, under Prince Eugene, and distinguished himself both at the siege

and battle of Belgrade. My father, after the birth of my only brother,

set off, on recommendation, for Constantinople, and was appointed

watchmaker to the Seraglio. During his absence, the beauty, wit, and

accomplishments--

[They were too brilliant for her situation, the minister, her

father, having bestowed great pains on her education. She was aught

drawing, singing, and to play on the theorbo; had learning, and

wrote very agreeable verses. The following is an extempore piece

which she composed in the absence of her husband and brother, in a

conversation with some person relative to them, while walking with

her sister--in--law, and their two children:

Ces deux messieurs, qui sont absens,

Nous sont chers e bien des manieres;

Ce sont nos amiss, nos amans,

Ce sont nos maris et nos freres,

Et les peres de ces enfans.

These absent ones, who just claim

Our hearts, by every tender name,

To whom each wish extends

Our husbands and our brothers are,

The fathers of this blooming pair,

Our lovers and our friends.]

of my mother attracted a number of admirers, among whom Mons. de la

Closure, Resident of France, was the most assiduous in his attentions.

His passion must have been extremely violent, since after a period of

thirty years I have seen him affected at the very mention of her name.

My mother had a defence more powerful even than her virtue; she tenderly

loved my father, and conjured him to return; his inclination seconding

his request, he gave up every prospect of emolument, and hastened to

Geneva.

I was the unfortunate fruit of this return, being born ten months after,

in a very weakly and infirm state; my birth cost my mother her life, and

was the first of my misfortunes. I am ignorant how my father supported

her loss at that time, but I know he was ever after inconsolable. In me

he still thought he saw her he so tenderly lamented, but could never

forget I had been the innocent cause of his misfortune, nor did he ever

embrace me, but his sighs, the convulsive pressure of his arms, witnessed

that a bitter regret mingled itself with his caresses, though, as may be

supposed, they were not on this account less ardent. When he said to me,

"Jean Jacques, let us talk of your mother," my usual reply was, "Yes,

father, but then, you know, we shall cry," and immediately the tears

started from his eyes. "Ah!" exclaimed he, with agitation, "Give me back

my wife; at least console me for her loss; fill up, dear boy, the void

she has left in my soul. Could I love thee thus wert thou only my son?"

Forty years after this loss he expired in the arms of his second wife,

but the name of the first still vibrated on his lips, still was her image

engraved on his heart.

Such were the authors of my being: of all the gifts it had pleased Heaven

to bestow on them, a feeling heart was the only one that descended to me;

this had been the source of their felicity, it was the foundation of all

my misfortunes.

I came into the world with so few signs of life, that they entertained

but little hope of preserving me, with the seeds of a disorder that has

gathered strength with years, and from which I am now relieved at

intervals, only to suffer a different, though more intolerable evil.

I owed my preservation to one of my father's sisters, an amiable and

virtuous girl, who took the most tender care of me; she is yet living,

nursing, at the age of four--score, a husband younger than herself, but

worn out with excessive drinking. Dear aunt! I freely forgive your

having preserved my life, and only lament that it is not in my power to

bestow on the decline of your days the tender solicitude and care you

lavished on the first dawn of mine. My nurse, Jaqueline, is likewise

living: and in good health--the hands that opened my eyes to the light of

this world may close them at my death. We suffer before we think; it is

the common lot of humanity. I experienced more than my proportion of it.

I have no knowledge of what passed prior to my fifth or sixth year; I

recollect nothing of learning to read, I only remember what effect the

first considerable exercise of it produced on my mind; and from that

moment I date an uninterrupted knowledge of myself.

Every night, after supper, we read some part of a small collection of

romances which had been my mother's. My father's design was only to

improve me in reading, and he thought these entertaining works were

calculated to give me a fondness for it; but we soon found ourselves so

interested in the adventures they contained, that we alternately read

whole nights together, and could not bear to give over until at the

conclusion of a volume. Sometimes, in a morning, on hearing the swallows

at our window, my father, quite ashamed of this weakness, would cry,

"Come, come, let us go to bed; I am more a child than thou art."

I soon acquired, by this dangerous custom, not only an extreme facility

in reading and comprehending, but, for my age, a too intimate

acquaintance with the passions. An infinity of sensations were familiar

to me, without possessing any precise idea of the objects to which they

related--I had conceived nothing--I had felt the whole. This confused

succession of emotions did not retard the future efforts of my reason,

though they added an extravagant, romantic notion of human life, which

experience and reflection have never been able to eradicate.

My romance reading concluded with the summer of 1719, the following

winter was differently employed. My mother's library being quite

exhausted, we had recourse to that part of her father's which had

devolved to us; here we happily found some valuable books, which was by

no means extraordinary, having been selected by a minister that truly

deserved that title, in whom learning (which was the rage of the times)

was but a secondary commendation, his taste and good sense being most

conspicuous. The history of the Church and Empire by Le Sueur,

Bossuett's Discourses on Universal History, Plutarch's Lives, the history

of Venice by Nani, Ovid's Metamorphoses, La Bruyere, Fontenelle's World,

his Dialogues of the Dead, and a few volumes of Moliere, were soon ranged

in my father's closet, where, during the hours he was employed in his

business, I daily read them, with an avidity and taste uncommon, perhaps

unprecedented at my age.

Plutarch presently became my greatest favorite. The satisfaction I

derived from repeated readings I gave this author, extinguished my

passion for romances, and I shortly preferred Agesilaus, Brutus, and

Aristides, to Orondates, Artemenes, and Juba. These interesting

studies, seconded by the conversations they frequently occasioned with my

father, produced that republican spirit and love of liberty, that haughty

and invincible turn of mind, which rendered me impatient of restraint or

servitude, and became the torment of my life, as I continually found

myself in situations incompatible with these sentiments. Incessantly

occupied with Rome and Athens, conversing, if I may so express myself

with their illustrious heroes; born the citizen of a republic, of a

father whose ruling passion was a love of his country, I was fired with

these examples; could fancy myself a Greek or Roman, and readily give

into the character of the personage whose life I read; transported by the

recital of any extraordinary instance of fortitude or intrepidity,

animation flashed from my eyes, and gave my voice additional strength and

energy. One day, at table, while relating the fortitude of Scoevola,

they were terrified at seeing me start from my seat and hold my hand over

a hot chafing--dish, to represent more forcibly the action of that

determined Roman.

My brother, who was seven years older than myself, was brought up to my

father's profession. The extraordinary affection they lavished on me

might be the reason he was too much neglected: this certainly was a fault

which cannot be justified. His education and morals suffered by this

neglect, and he acquired the habits of a libertine before he arrived at

an age to be really one. My father tried what effect placing him with a

master would produce, but he still persisted in the same ill conduct.

Though I saw him so seldom that it could hardly be said we were

acquainted. I loved him tenderly, and believe he had as strong an

affection for me as a youth of his dissipated turn of mind could be

supposed capable of. One day, I remember, when my father was correcting

him severely, I threw myself between them, embracing my brother, whom I

covered with my body, receiving the strokes designed for him; I persisted

so obstinately in my protection, that either softened by my cries and

tears, or fearing to hurt me most, his anger subsided, and he pardoned

his fault. In the end, my brother's conduct became so bad that he

suddenly disappeared, and we learned some time after that he was in

Germany, but he never wrote to us, and from that day we heard no news of

him: thus I became an only son.

If this poor lad was neglected, it was quite different with his brother,

for the children of a king could not be treated with more attention and

tenderness than were bestowed on my infancy, being the darling of the

family; and what is rather uncommon, though treated as a beloved, never

a spoiled child; was never permitted, while under paternal inspection,

to play in the street with other children; never had any occasion to

contradict or indulge those fantastical humors which are usually

attributed to nature, but are in reality the effects of an injudicious

education. I had the faults common to my age, was talkative, a glutton,

and sometimes a liar, made no scruple of stealing sweetmeats, fruits,

or, indeed, any kind of eatables; but never took delight in mischievous

waste, in accusing others, or tormenting harmless animals. I recollect,

indeed, that one day, while Madam Clot, a neighbor of ours, was gone to

church, I made water in her kettle: the remembrance even now makes me

smile, for Madame Clot (though, if you please, a good sort of creature)

was one of the most tedious grumbling old women I ever knew. Thus have I

given a brief, but faithful, history of my childish transgressions.

How could I become cruel or vicious, when I had before my eyes only

examples of mildness, and was surrounded by some of the best people in

the world? My father, my aunt, my nurse, my relations, our friends, our

neighbors, all I had any connection with, did not obey me, it is true,

but loved me tenderly, and I returned their affection. I found so little

to excite my desires, and those I had were so seldom contradicted, that I

was hardly sensible of possessing any, and can solemnly aver I was an

absolute stranger to caprice until after I had experienced the authority

of a master.

Those hours that were not employed in reading or writing with my father,

or walking with my governess, Jaqueline, I spent with my aunt; and

whether seeing her embroider, or hearing her sing, whether sitting or

standing by her side, I was ever happy. Her tenderness and unaffected

gayety, the charms of her figure and countenance have left such indelible

impressions on my mind, that her manner, look, and attitude are still

before my eyes; I recollect a thousand little caressing questions; could

describe her clothes, her head-dress, nor have the two curls of fine

black hair which hung on her temples, according to the mode of that time,

escaped my memory.

Though my taste, or rather passion, for music, did not show itself until

a considerable time after, I am fully persuaded it is to her I am

indebted for it. She knew a great number of songs, which she sung with

great sweetness and melody. The serenity and cheerfulness which were

conspicuous in this lovely girl, banished melancholy, and made all round

her happy.

The charms of her voice had such an effect on me, that not only several

of her songs have ever since remained on my memory, but some I have not

thought of from my infancy, as I grow old, return upon my mind with a

charm altogether inexpressible. Would any one believe that an old dotard

like me, worn out with care and infirmity, should sometime surprise

himself weeping like a child, and in a voice querulous, and broken by

age, muttering out one of those airs which were the favorites of my

infancy? There is one song in particular, whose tune I perfectly

recollect, but the words that compose the latter half of it constantly

refuse every effort to recall them, though I have a confused idea of the

rhymes. The beginning, with what I have been able to recollect of the

remainder, is as follows:

Tircis, je n'ose

Ecouter ton Chalumeau

Sous l'Ormeau;

Car on en cause

Deja dans notre hameau.

---- ---- -------

------ --- un Berger

s'engager

sans danger,

Et toujours l'epine est sons la rose.

I have endeavored to account for the invincible charm my heart feels on

the recollection of this fragment, but it is altogether inexplicable.

I only know, that before I get to the end of it, I always find my voice

interrupted by tenderness, and my eyes suffused with tears. I have a

hundred times formed the resolution of writing to Paris for the remainder

of these words, if any one should chance to know them: but I am almost

certain the pleasure I take in the recollection would be greatly

diminished was I assured any one but my poor aunt Susan had sung them.

Such were my affections on entering this life. Thus began to form and

demonstrate itself, a heart, at once haughty and tender, a character

effeminate, yet invincible; which, fluctuating between weakness and

courage, luxury and virtue, has ever set me in contradiction to myself;

causing abstinence and enjoyment, pleasure and prudence, equally to shun

me.

This course of education was interrupted by an accident, whose

consequences influenced the rest of my life. My father had a quarrel

with M. G----, who had a captain's commission in France, and was related

to several of the Council. This G----, who was an insolent, ungenerous

man, happening to bleed at the nose, in order to be revenged, accused my

father of having drawn his sword on him in the city, and in consequence

of this charge they were about to conduct him to prison. He insisted

(according to the law of this republic) that the accuser should be

confined at the same time; and not being able to obtain this, preferred a

voluntary banishment for the remainder of his life, to giving up a point

by which he must sacrifice his honor and liberty.

I remained under the tuition of my uncle Bernard, who was at that time

employed in the fortifications of Geneva. He had lost his eldest

daughter, but had a son about my own age, and we were sent together to

Bossey, to board with the Minister Lambercier. Here we were to learn

Latin, with all the insignificant trash that has obtained the name of

education.

Two years spent in this village softened, in some degree, my Roman

fierceness, and again reduced me to a state of childhood. At Geneva,

where nothing was exacted, I loved reading, which was, indeed, my

principal amusement; but, at Bossey, where application was expected,

I was fond of play as a relaxation. The country was so new, so charming

in my idea, that it seemed impossible to find satiety in its enjoyments,

and I conceived a passion for rural life, which time has not been able to

extinguish; nor have I ever ceased to regret the pure and tranquil

pleasures I enjoyed at this place in my childhood; the remembrance having

followed me through every age, even to that in which I am hastening again

towards it.

M. Lambercier was a worthy, sensible man, who, without neglecting our

instruction, never made our acquisitions burthensome, or tasks tedious.

What convinces me of the rectitude of his method is, that notwithstanding

my extreme aversion to restraint, the recollection of my studies is never

attended with disgust; and, if my improvement was trivial, it was

obtained with ease, and has never escaped memory.

The simplicity of this rural life was of infinite advantage in opening my

heart to the reception of true friendship. The sentiments I had hitherto

formed on this subject were extremely elevated, but altogether imaginary.

The habit of living in this peaceful manner soon united me tenderly to my

cousin Bernard; my affection was more ardent than that I had felt for my

brother, nor has time ever been able to efface it. He was a tall, lank,

weakly boy, with a mind as mild as his body was feeble, and who did not

wrong the good opinion they were disposed to entertain for the son of my

guardian. Our studies, amusements, and tasks, were the same; we were

alone; each wanted a playmate; to separate would in some measure, have

been to annihilate us. Though we had not many opportunities of

demonstrating our attachment to each other, it was certainly extreme; and

so far from enduring the thought of separation, we could not even form an

idea that we should ever be able to submit to it. Each of a disposition

to be won by kindness, and complaisant, when not soured by contradiction,

we agreed in every particular. If, by the favor of those who governed us

he had the ascendant while in their presence, I was sure to acquire it

when we were alone, and this preserved the equilibrium so necessary in

friendship. If he hesitated in repeating his task, I prompted him; when

my exercises were finished, I helped to write his; and, in our

amusements, my disposition being most active, ever had the lead. In a

word, our characters accorded so well, and the friendship that subsisted

between us was so cordial, that during the five years we were at Bossey

and Geneva we were inseparable: we often fought, it is true, but there

never was any occasion to separate us. No one of our quarrels lasted

more than a quarter of an hour, and never in our lives did we make any

complaint of each other. It may be said, these remarks are frivolous;

but, perhaps, a similiar example among children can hardly be produced.

The manner in which I passed my time at Bossey was so agreeable to my

disposition, that it only required a longer duration absolutely to have

fixed my character, which would have had only peaceable, affectionate,

benevolent sentiments for its basis. I believe no individual of our kind

ever possessed less natural vanity than myself. At intervals, by an

extraordinary effort, I arrived at sublime ideas, but presently sunk

again into my original languor. To be loved by every one who knew me was

my most ardent wish. I was naturally mild, my cousin was equally so, and

those who had the care of us were of similiar dispositions. Everything

contributed to strengthen those propensities which nature had implanted

in my breast, and during the two years I was neither the victim nor

witness of any violent emotions.

I knew nothing so delightful as to see every one content, not only with

me, but all that concerned them. When repeating our catechism at church,

nothing could give me greater vexation, on being obliged to hesitate,

than to see Miss Lambercier's countenance express disapprobation and

uneasiness. This alone was more afflicting to me than the shame of

faltering before so many witnesses, which, notwithstanding, was

sufficiently painful; for though not oversolicitous of praise, I was

feelingly alive to shame; yet I can truly affirm, the dread of being

reprimanded by Miss Lambercier alarmed me less than the thought of making

her uneasy.

Neither she nor her brother were deficient in a reasonable severity, but

as this was scarce ever exerted without just cause, I was more afflicted

at their disapprobation than the punishment. Certainly the method of

treating youth would be altered if the distant effects, this

indiscriminate, and frequently indiscreet method produces, were more

conspicuous. I would willingly excuse myself from a further explanation,

did not the lesson this example conveys (which points out an evil as

frequent as it is pernicious) forbid my silence.

As Miss Lambercier felt a mother's affection, she sometimes exerted a

mother's authority, even to inflicting on us when we deserved it, the

punishment of infants. She had often threatened it, and this threat of a

treatment entirely new, appeared to me extremely dreadful; but I found

the reality much less terrible than the idea, and what is still more

unaccountable, this punishment increased my affection for the person who

had inflicted it. All this affection, aided by my natural mildness, was

scarcely sufficient to prevent my seeking, by fresh offences, a return of

the same chastisement; for a degree of sensuality had mingled with the

smart and shame, which left more desire than fear of a repetition. I was

well convinced the same discipline from her brother would have produced a

quite contrary effect; but from a man of his disposition this was not

probable, and if I abstained from meriting correction it was merely from

a fear of offending Miss Lambercier, for benevolence, aided by the

passions, has ever maintained an empire over me which has given law to my

heart.

This event, which, though desirable, I had not endeavored to accelerate,

arrived without my fault; I should say, without my seeking; and I

profited by it with a safe conscience; but this second, was also the last

time, for Miss Lambercier, who doubtless had some reason to imagine this

chastisement did not produce the desired effect, declared it was too

fatiguing, and that she renounced it for the future. Till now we had

slept in her chamber, and during the winter, even in her bed; but two

days after another room was prepared for us, and from that moment I had

the honor (which I could very well have dispensed with) of being treated

by her as a great boy.

Who would believe this childish discipline, received at eight years old,

from the hands of a woman of thirty, should influence my propensities,

my desires, my passions, for the rest of my life, and that in quite a

contrary sense from what might naturally have been expected? The very

incident that inflamed my senses, gave my desires such an extraordinary

turn, that, confined to what I had already experienced, I sought no

further, and, with blood boiling with sensuality, almost from my birth,

preserved my purity beyond the age when the coldest constitutions lose

their insensibility; long tormented, without knowing by what, I gazed on

every handsome woman with delight; imagination incessantly brought their

charms to my remembrance, only to transform them into so many Miss

Lamberciers.

If ever education was perfectly chaste, it was certainly that I received;

my three aunts were not only of exemplary prudence, but maintained a

degree of modest reserve which women have long since thought unnecessary.

My father, it is true, loved pleasure, but his gallantry was rather of

the last than the present century, and he never expressed his affection

for any woman he regarded in terms a virgin could have blushed at;

indeed, it was impossible more attention should be paid to that regard we

owe the morals of children than was uniformly observed by every one I had

any concern with. An equal degree of reserve in this particular was

observed at M. Lambercier's, where a good maid-servant was discharged for

having once made use of an expression before us which was thought to

contain some degree of indelicacy. I had no precise idea of the ultimate

effect of the passions, but the conception I had formed was extremely

disgusting; I entertained a particular aversion for courtesans, nor could

I look on a rake without a degree of disdain mingled with terror.

These prejudices of education, proper in themselves to retard the first

explosions of a combustible constitution, were strengthened, as I have

already hinted, by the effect the first moments of sensuality produced in

me, for notwithstanding the troublesome ebullition of my blood, I was

satisfied with the species of voluptuousness I had already been

acquainted with, and sought no further.

Thus I passed the age of puberty, with a constitution extremely ardent,

without knowing or even wishing for any other gratification of the

passions than what Miss Lambercier had innocently given me an idea of;

and when I became a man, that childish taste, instead of vanishing, only

associated with the other. This folly, joined to a natural timidity, has

always prevented my being very enterprising with women, so that I have

passed my days in languishing in silence for those I most admired,

without daring to disclose my wishes.

To fall at the feet of an imperious mistress, obey her mandates, or

implore pardon, were for me the most exquisite enjoyments, and the more

my blood was inflamed by the efforts of a lively imagination the more I

acquired the appearance of a whining lover.

It will be readily conceived that this mode of making love is not

attended with a rapid progress or imminent danger to the virtue of its

object; yet, though I have few favors to boast of, I have not been

excluded from enjoyment, however imaginary. Thus the senses, in

concurrence with a mind equally timid and romantic, have preserved my

moral chaste, and feelings uncorrupted, with precisely the same

inclinations, which, seconded with a moderate portion of effrontery,

might have plunged me into the most unwarrantable excesses.

I have made the first, most difficult step, in the obscure and painful

maze of my Confessions. We never feel so great a degree of repugnance in

divulging what is really criminal, as what is merely ridiculous. I am

now assured of my resolution, for after what I have dared disclose,

nothing can have power to deter me. The difficulty attending these

acknowledgments will be readily conceived, when I declare, that during

the whole of my life, though frequently laboring under the most violent

agitation, being hurried away with the impetuosity of a passion which

(when in company with those I loved) deprived me of the faculty of sight

and hearing, I could never, in the course of the most unbounded

familiarity, acquire sufficient resolution to declare my folly, and

implore the only favor that remained to bestow.

In thus investigating the first traces of my sensible existence, I find

elements, which, though seemingly incompatible, have united to produce a

simple and uniform effect; while others, apparently the same, have, by

the concurrence of certain circumstances, formed such different

combinations, that it would never be imagined they had any affinity; who

would believe, for example, that one of the most vigorous springs of my

soul was tempered in the identical source from whence luxury and ease

mingled with my constitution and circulated in my veins? Before I quit

this subject, I will add a striking instance of the different effects

they produced.

One day, while I was studying in a chamber contiguous to the kitchen, the

maid set some of Miss Lambercier's combs to dry by the fire, and on

coming to fetch them some time after, was surprised to find the teeth of

one of them broken off. Who could be suspected of this mischief? No one

but myself had entered the room: I was questioned, but denied having any

knowledge of it. Mr. and Miss Lambercier consult, exhort, threaten, but

all to no purpose; I obstinately persist in the denial; and, though this

was the first time I had been detected in a confirmed falsehood,

appearances were so strong that they overthrew all my protestations.

This affair was thought serious; the mischief, the lie, the obstinacy,

were considered equally deserving of punishment, which was not now to be

administered by Miss Lambercier. My uncle Bernard was written to; he

arrived; and my poor cousin being charged with a crime no less serious,

we were conducted to the same execution, which was inflicted with great

severity. If finding a remedy in the evil itself, they had sought ever

to allay my depraved desires, they could not have chosen a shorter method

to accomplish their designs, and, I can assure my readers, I was for a

long time freed from the dominion of them.

As this severity could not draw from me the expected acknowledgment,

which obstinacy brought on several repetitions, and reduced me to a

deplorable situation, yet I was immovable, and resolutely determined to

suffer death rather than submit. Force, at length, was obliged to yield

to the diabolical infatuation of a child, for no better name was bestowed

on my constancy, and I came out of this dreadful trial, torn, it is true,

but triumphant. Fifty years have expired since this adventure--the fear

of punishment is no more. Well, then, I aver, in the face of Heaven, I

was absolutely innocent: and, so far from breaking, or even touching the

comb, never came near the fire. It will be asked, how did this mischief

happen? I can form no conception of it, I only know my own innocence.

Let any one figure to himself a character whose leading traits were

docility and timidity, but haughty, ardent, and invincible, in its

passions; a child, hitherto governed by the voice of reason, treated with

mildness, equity, and complaisance, who could not even support the idea

of injustice, experiencing, for the first time, so violent an instance of

it, inflicted by those he most loved and respected. What perversion of

ideas! What confusion in the heart, the brain, in all my little being,

intelligent and moral!--let any one, I say, if possible, imagine all

this, for I am incapable of giving the least idea of what passed in my

mind at that period.

My reason was not sufficiently established to enable me to put myself in

the place of others, and judge how much appearances condemned me, I only

beheld the rigor of a dreadful chastisement, inflicted for a crime I had

not committed; yet I can truly affirm, the smart I suffered, though

violent, was inconsiderable compared to what I felt from indignation,

rage, and despair. My cousin, who was almost in similar circumstances,

having been punished for an involuntary fault as guilty of a premediated

crime, became furious by my example. Both in the same bed, we embraced

each other with convulsive transport; we were almost suffocated; and when

our young hearts found sufficient relief to breathe out our indigination,

we sat up in the bed, and with all our force, repeated a hundred times,

Carnifex! Carnifex! Carnifex! executioner, tormentor.

Even while I write this I feel my pulse quicken, and should I live a

hundred thousand years, the agitation of that moment would still be fresh

in my memory. The first instance of violence and oppression is so deeply

engraved on my soul, that every relative idea renews my emotion: the

sentiment of indignation, which in its origin had reference only to

myself, has acquired such strength, and is at present so completely

detached from personal motives, that my heart is as much inflamed at the

sight or relation of any act of injustice (whatever may be the object, or

wheresoever it may be perpetrated) as if I was the immediate sufferer.

When I read the history of a merciless tyrant, or the dark and the subtle

machination of a knavish designing priest, I could on the instant set off

to stab the miscreants, though I was certain to perish in the attempt.

I have frequently fatigued myself by running after and stoning a cock, a

cow, a dog, or any animal I saw tormenting another, only because it was

conscious of possessing superior strength. This may be natural to me,

and I am inclined to believe it is, though the lively impression of the

first injustice I became the victim of was too long and too powerfully

remembered not to have added considerable force to it.

This occurrence terminated my infantine serenity; from that moment I

ceased to enjoy a pure unadulterated happiness, and on a retrospection of

the pleasure of my childhood, I yet feel they ended here. We continue at

Bossey some months after this event, but were like our first parents in

the Garden of Eden after they had lost their innocence; in appearance our

situation was the same, in effect it was totally different.

Affection, respect; intimacy, confidence, no longer attached the pupils

to their guides; we beheld them no longer as divinities, who could read

the secrets of our hearts; we were less ashamed of committing faults,

more afraid of being accused of them: we learned to dissemble, to rebel,

to lie: all the vices common to our years began to corrupt our happy

innocence, mingle with our sports, and embitter our amusements. The

country itself, losing those sweet and simple charms which captivate the

heart, appeared a gloomy desert, or covered with a veil that concealed

its beauties. We cultivated our little gardens no more: our flowers were

neglected. We no longer scratched away the mould, and broke out into

exclamations of delight, on discovering that the grain we had sown began

to shoot. We were disgusted with our situation; our preceptors were

weary of us. In a word, my uncle wrote for our return, and we left Mr.

and Miss Lambercier without feeling any regret at the separation.

Near thirty years passed away from my leaving Bossey, without once

recalling the place to my mind with any degree of satisfaction; but after

having passed the prime of life, as I decline into old age (while more

recent occurrences are wearing out apace) I feel these remembrances

revive and imprint themselves on my heart, with a force and charm that

every day acquires fresh strength; as if, feeling life fleet from me,

I endeavored to catch it again by its commencement. The most trifling

incident of those happy days delight me, for no other reason than being

of those days. I recall every circumstance of time, place, and persons;

I see the maid or footman busy in the chamber, a swallow entering the

window, a fly settling on my hand while repeating my lessons. I see the

whole economy of the apartment; on the right hand Mr. Lambercier's

closet, with a print representing all the popes, a barometer, a large

almanac, the windows of the house (which stood in a hollow at the bottom

of the garden) shaded by raspberry shrubs, whose shoots sometimes found

entrance; I am sensible the reader has no occasion to know all this, but

I feel a kind of necessity for relating it. Why am I not permitted to

recount all the little anecdotes of that thrice happy age, at the

recollection of whose joys I ever tremble with delight? Five or six

particularly--let us compromise the matter--I will give up five, but

then I must have one, and only one, provided I may draw it out to its

utmost length, in order to prolong my satisfaction.

If I only sought yours, I should choose that of Miss Lambercier's

backside, which by an unlucky fall at the bottom of the meadow, was

exposed to the view of the King of Sardinia, who happened to be passing

by; but that of the walnut tree on the terrace is more amusing to me,

since here I was an actor, whereas, in the abovementioned scene I was

only a spectator; and I must confess I see nothing that should occasion

risibility in an accident, which, however laughable in itself, alarmed me

for a person I loved as a mother, or perhaps something more.

Ye curious readers, whose expectations are already on the stretch for the

noble history of the terrace, listen to the tragedy, and abstain from

trembling, if you can, at the horrible catastrophe!

At the outside of the courtyard door, on the left hand, was a terrace;

here they often sat after dinner; but it was subject to one

inconvenience, being too much exposed to the rays of the sun; to obviate

this defect, Mr. Lambercier had a walnut tree set there, the planting of

which was attended with great solemnity. The two boarders were

godfathers, and while the earth was replacing round the root, each held

the tree with one hand, singing songs of triumph. In order to water it

with more effect, they formed a kind of luson around its foot: myself and

cousin, who were every day ardent spectators of this watering, confirmed

each other in the very natural idea that it was nobler to plant trees on

the terrace than colors on a breach, and this glory we were resolved to

procure without dividing it with any one.

In pursuance of this resolution, we cut a slip off a willow, and planted

it on the terrace, at about eight or ten feet distance from the august

walnut tree. We did not forget to make a hollow round it, but the

difficulty was how to procure a supply of water, which was brought from a

considerable distance, and we not permitted to fetch it: but water was

absolutely necessary for our willow, and we made use of every stratagem

to obtain it.

For a few days everything succeeded so well that it began to bud, and

throw out small leaves, which we hourly measured convinced (tho' now

scarce a foot from the ground) it would soon afford us a refreshing

shade. This unfortunate willow, by engrossing our whole time, rendered

us incapable of application to any other study, and the cause of our

inattention not being known, we were kept closer than before. The fatal

moment approached when water must fail, and we were already afflicted

with the idea that our tree must perish with drought. At length

necessity, the parent of industry, suggested an invention, by which we

might save our tree from death, and ourselves from despair; it was to

make a furrow underground, which would privately conduct a part of the

water from the walnut tree to our willow. This undertaking was executed

with ardor, but did not immediately succeed--our descent was not

skilfully planned--the water did not run, the earth falling in and

stopping up the furrow; yet, though all went contrary, nothing

discouraged us, 'omnia vincit labor improbus'. We made the bason deeper,

to give the water a more sensible descent; we cut the bottom of a box

into narrow planks; increased the channel from the walnut tree to our

willow and laying a row flat at the bottom, set two others inclining

towards each other, so as to form a triangular channel; we formed a kind

of grating with small sticks at the end next the walnut tree, to prevent

the earth and stones from stopping it up, and having carefully covered

our work with well--trodden earth, in a transport of hope and fear

attended the hour of watering. After an interval, which seemed an age of

expectation, this hour arrived. Mr. Lambercier, as usual, assisted at

the operation; we contrived to get between him and our tree, towards

which he fortunately turned his back. They no sooner began to pour the

first pail of water, than we perceived it running to the willow; this

sight was too much for our prudence, and we involuntarily expressed our

transport by a shout of joy. The sudden exclamation made Mr. Lambercier

turn about, though at that instant he was delighted to observe how

greedily the earth, which surrounded the root of his walnut tree, imbibed

the water. Surprised at seeing two trenches partake of it, he shouted in

his turn, examines, perceives the roguery, and, sending instantly for a

pick axe, at one fatal blow makes two or three of our planks fly, crying

out meantime with all his strength, an aqueduct! an aqueduct! His

strokes redoubled, every one of which made an impression on our hearts;

in a moment the planks, the channel, the bason, even our favorite willow,

all were ploughed up, nor was one word pronounced during this terrible

transaction, except the above mentioned exclamation. An aqueduct!

repeated he, while destroying all our hopes, an aqueduct! an aqueduct!

It maybe supposed this adventure had a still more melancholy end for the

young architects; this, however, was not the case; the affair ended here.

Mr. Lambercier never reproached us on this account, nor was his

countenance clouded with a frown; we even heard him mention the

circumstance to his sister with loud bursts of laughter. The laugh of

Mr. Lambercier might be heard to a considerable distance. But what is

still more surprising after the first transport of sorrow had subsided,

we did not find ourselves violently afflicted; we planted a tree in

another spot, and frequently recollected the catastrophe of the former,

repeating with a significant emphasis, an aqueduct! an aqueduct!

Till then, at intervals, I had fits of ambition, and could fancy myself

Brutus or Aristides, but this was the first visible effect of my vanity.

To have constructed an aqueduct with our own hands, to have set a slip of

willow in competition with a flourishing tree, appeared to me a supreme

degree of glory! I had a juster conception of it at ten than Caesar

entertained at thirty.

The idea of this walnut tree, with the little anecdotes it gave rise to,

have so well continued, or returned to my memory, that the design which

conveyed the most pleasing sensations, during my journey to Geneva, in

the year 1754, was visiting Bossey, and reviewing the monuments of my

infantine amusement, above all, the beloved walnut tree, whose age at

that time must have been verging on a third of a century, but I was so

beset with company that I could not find a moment to accomplish my

design. There is little appearance now of the occasion being renewed;

but should I ever return to that charming spot, and find my favorite

walnut tree still existing, I am convinced I should water it with my

tears.

On my return to Geneva, I passed two or three years at my uncle's,

expecting the determination of my friends respecting my future

establishment. His own son being devoted to genius, was taught drawing,

and instructed by his father in the elements of Euclid; I partook of

these instructions, but was principally fond of drawing. Meantime, they

were irresolute, whether to make me a watchmaker, a lawyer, or a

minister. I should have preferred being a minister, as I thought it must

be a charming thing to preach, but the trifling income which had been my

mother's, and was to be divided between my brother and myself, was too

inconsiderable to defray the expense attending the prosecution of my

studies. As my age did not render the choice very pressing, I remained

with my uncle, passing my time with very little improvement, and paying

pretty dear, though not unreasonably, for my board.

My uncle, like my father, was a man of pleasure, but had not learned,

like him, to abridge his amusements for the sake of instructing his

family, consequently our education was neglected. My aunt was a devotee,

who loved singing psalms better than thinking of our improvement, so that

we were left entirely to ourselves, which liberty we never abused.

Ever inseparable, we were all the world to each other; and, feeling no

inclination to frequent the company of a number of disorderly lads of our

own age, we learned none of those habits of libertinism to which our idle

life exposed us. Perhaps I am wrong in charging myself and cousin with

idleness at this time, for, in our lives, we were never less so; and what

was extremely fortunate, so incessantly occupied with our amusements,

that we found no temptation to spend any part of our time in the streets.

We made cages, pipes, kites, drums, houses, ships, and bows; spoiled the

tools of my good old grandfather by endeavoring to make watches in

imitation of him; but our favorite amusement was wasting paper, in

drawing, washing, coloring, etc. There came an Italian mountebank to

Geneva, called Gamber-Corta, who had an exhibition of puppets, that he

made play a kind of comedy. We went once to see them, but could not

spare time to go again, being busily employed in making puppets of our

own and inventing comedies, which we immediately set about making them

perform, mimicking to the best of our abilities the uncouth voice of

Punch; and, to complete the business, my good aunt and uncle Bernard had

the patience to see and listen to our imitations; but my uncle, having

one day read an elaborate discourse to his family, we instantly gave up

our comedies, and began composing sermons.

These details, I confess, are not very amusing, but they serve to

demonstrate that the former part of our education was well directed,

since being, at such an early age, the absolute masters of our time,

we found no inclination to abuse it; and so little in want of other

companions, that we constantly neglected every occasion of seeking them.

When taking our walks together, we observed their diversions without

feeling any inclination to partake of them. Friendship so entirely

occupied our hearts, that, pleased with each other's company the simplest

pastimes were sufficient to delight us.

We were soon remarked for being thus inseparable: and what rendered us

more conspicuous, my cousin was very tall, myself extremely short, so

that we exhibited a very whimsical contrast. This meagre figure, small,

sallow countenance, heavy air, and supine gait, excited the ridicule of

the children, who, in the gibberish of the country, nicknamed him 'Barna

Bredanna'; and we no sooner got out of doors than our ears were assailed

with a repetition of "Barna Bredanna." He bore this indignity with

tolerable patience, but I was instantly for fighting. This was what the

young rogues aimed at. I engaged accordingly, and was beat. My poor

cousin did all in his power to assist me, but he was weak, and a single

stroke brought him to the ground. I then became furious, and received

several smart blows, some of which were aimed at 'Barna Bredanna'. This

quarrel so far increased the evil, that, to avoid their insults, we could

only show ourselves in the streets while they were employed at school.

I had already become a redresser of grievances; there only wanted a lady

in the way to be a knight-errant in form. This defect was soon supplied;

I presently had two. I frequently went to see my father at Nion, a small

city in the Vaudois country, where he was now settled. Being universally

respected, the affection entertained for him extended to me: and, during

my visits, the question seemed to be, who should show me most kindness.

A Madame de Vulson, in particular, loaded me with caresses; and, to

complete all, her daughter made me her gallant. I need not explain what

kind of gallant a boy of eleven must be to a girl of two and twenty; the

artful hussies know how to set these puppets up in front, to conceal more

serious engagements. On my part I saw no inequality between myself and

Miss Vulson, was flattered by the circumstance, and went into it with my

whole heart, or rather my whole head, for this passion certainly reached

no further, though it transported me almost to madness, and frequently

produced scenes sufficient to make even a cynic expire with laughter.

I have experienced two kinds of love, equally real, which have scarce any

affinity, yet each differing materially from tender friendship. My whole

life has been divided between these affections, and I have frequently

felt the power of both at the same instant. For example, at the very

time I so publically and tyrannically claimed Miss Vulson, that I could

not suffer any other of my sex to approach her, I had short, but

passionate, assignations with a Miss Goton, who thought proper to act the

schoolmistress with me. Our meetings, though absolutely childish,

afforded me the height of happiness. I felt the whole charm of mystery,

and repaid Miss Vulson in kind, when she least expected it, the use she

made of me in concealing her amours. To my great mortification, this

secret was soon discovered, and I presently lost my young schoolmistress.

Miss Goton was, in fact, a singular personage. She was not handsome,

yet there was a certain something in her figure which could not easily

be forgotten, and this for an old fool, I am too often convinced of.

Her eyes, in particular, neither corresponded with her age, her height,

nor her manner; she had a lofty imposing air, which agreed extremely well

with the character she assumed, but the most extraordinary part of her

composition was a mixture of forwardness and reserve difficult to be

conceived; and while she took the greatest liberties with me, would never

permit any to be taken with her in return, treating me precisely like a

child. This makes me suppose she had either ceased herself to be one,

or was yet sufficiently so to behold us play the danger to which this

folly exposed her.

I was so absolutely in the power of both these mistresses, that when in

the presence of either, I never thought of her who was absent; in other

respects, the effects they produced on me bore no affinity. I could have

passed my whole life with Miss Vulson, without forming a wish to quit

her; but then, my satisfaction was attended with a pleasing serenity;

and, in numerous companies, I was particularly charmed with her. The

sprightly sallies of her wit, the arch glance of her eye, even jealousy

itself, strengthened my attachment, and I triumphed in the preference she

seemed to bestow on me, while addressed by more powerful rivals;

applause, encouragement, and smiles, gave animation to my happiness.

Surrounded by a throng of observers, I felt the whole force of love--I

was passionate, transported; in a tete-a-tete, I should have been

constrained, thoughtful, perhaps unhappy. If Miss Vulson was ill, I

suffered with her; would willingly have given up my own health to

establish hers (and, observe I knew the want of it from experience); if

absent, she employed my thoughts, I felt the want of her; when present,

her caresses came with warmth and rapture to my heart, though my senses

were unaffected. The familiarities she bestowed on me I could not have

supported the idea of her granting to another; I loved her with a

brother's affection only, but experienced all the jealousy of a lover.

With Miss Goton this passion might have acquired a degree of fury; I

should have been a Turk, a tiger, had I once imagined she bestowed her

favors on any but myself. The pleasure I felt on approaching Miss Vulson

was sufficiently ardent, though unattended with uneasy sensations; but at

sight of Miss Goton, I felt myself bewildered--every sense was absorbed

in ecstasy. I believe it would have been impossible to have remained

long with her; I must have been suffocated with the violence of my

palpitations. I equally dreaded giving either of them displeasure; with

one I was more complaisant; with the other, more submissive. I would not

have offended Miss Vulson for the world; but if Miss Goton had commanded

me to throw myself into the flames, I think I should have instantly

obeyed her. Happily, both for her and myself, our amours; or rather

rendezvous, were not of long duration: and though my connection with Miss

Vulson was less dangerous, after a continuance of some greater length,

that likewise had its catastrophe; indeed the termination of a love

affair is good for nothing, unless it partakes of the romantic, and can

furnish out at least an exclamation.

Though my correspondence with Miss Vulson was less animated, it was

perhaps more endearing; we never separated without tears, and it can

hardly be conceived what a void I felt in my heart. I could neither

think nor speak of anything but her. These romantic sorrows were not

affected, though I am inclined to believe they did not absolutely centre

in her, for I am persuaded (though I did not perceive it at that time)

being deprived of amusement bore a considerable share in them.

To soften the rigor of absence, we agreed to correspond with each other,

and the pathetic expressions these letters contained were sufficient to

have split a rock. In a word, I had the honor of her not being able to

endure the pain of separation. She came to see me at Geneva.

My head was now completely turned; and during the two days she remained

here, I was intoxicated with delight. At her departure, I would have

thrown myself into the water after her, and absolutely rent the air with

my cries. The week following she sent me sweetmeats, gloves, etc. This

certainly would have appeared extremely gallant, had I not been informed

of her marriage at the same instant, and that the journey I had thought

proper to give myself the honor of, was only to buy her wedding suit.

My indignation may easily be conceived; I shall not attempt to describe

it. In this heroic fury, I swore never more to see the perfidious girl,

supposing it the greatest punishment that could be inflicted on her.

This, however, did not occasion her death, for twenty years after, while

on a visit to my father, being on the lake, I asked who those ladies were

in a boat not far from ours. "What!" said my father smiling, "does not

your heart inform you? It is your former flame, it is Madame Christin,

or, if you please, Miss Vulson." I started at the almost forgotten name,

and instantly ordered the waterman to turn off, not judging it worth

while to be perjured, however favorable the opportunity for revenge, in

renewing a dispute of twenty years past, with a woman of forty.

Thus, before my future destination was determined, did I fool away the

most precious moments of my youth. After deliberating a long time on the

bent of my natural inclination, they resolved to dispose of me in a

manner the most repugnant to them. I was sent to Mr. Masseron, the City

Register, to learn (according to the expression of my uncle Bernard) the

thriving occupation of a scraper. This nickname was inconceivably

displeasing to me, and I promised myself but little satisfaction in the

prospect of heaping up money by a mean employment. The assiduity and

subjection required, completed my disgust, and I never set foot in the

office without feeling a kind of horror, which every day gained fresh

strength.

Mr. Masseron, who was not better pleased with my abilities than I was

with the employment, treated me with disdain, incessantly upbraiding me

with being a fool and blockhead, not forgetting to repeat, that my uncle

had assured him I was a knowing one, though he could not find that I knew

anything. That he had promised to furnish him with a sprightly boy, but

had, in truth, sent him an ass. To conclude, I was turned out of the

registry, with the additional ignominy of being pronounced a fool by all

Mr. Masseron's clerks, and fit only to handle a file.

My vocation thus determined, I was bound apprentice; not, however, to a

watchmaker, but to an engraver, and I had been so completely humiliated

by the contempt of the register, that I submitted without a murmur. My

master, whose name was M. Ducommon, was a young man of a very violent and

boorish character, who contrived in a short time to tarnish all the

amiable qualities of my childhood, to stupefy a disposition naturally

sprightly, and reduce my feelings, as well as my condition, to an

absolute state of servitude. I forgot my Latin, history, and

antiquities; I could hardly recollect whether such people as Romans ever

existed. When I visited my father, he no longer beheld his idol, nor

could the ladies recognize the gallant Jean Jacques; nay, I was so well

convinced that Mr. and Miss Lambercier would scarce receive me as their

pupil, that I endeavored to avoid their company, and from that time have

never seen them. The vilest inclinations, the basest actions, succeeded

my amiable amusements and even obliterated the very remembrance of them.

I must have had, in spite of my good education, a great propensity to

degenerate, else the declension could not have followed with such ease

and rapidity, for never did so promising a Caesar so quickly become a

Laradon.

The art itself did not displease me. I had a lively taste for drawing.

There was nothing displeasing in the exercise of the graver; and as it

required no very extraordinary abilities to attain perfection as a

watchcase engraver, I hoped to arrive at it. Perhaps I should have

accomplished my design, if unreasonable restraint, added to the brutality

of my master, had not rendered my business disgusting. I wasted his

time, and employed myself in engraving medals, which served me and my

companions as a kind of insignia for a new invented order of chivalry,

and though this differed very little from my usual employ, I considered

it as a relaxation. Unfortunately, my master caught me at this

contraband labor, and a severe beating was the consequence. He

reproached me at the same time with attempting to make counterfeit money

because our medals bore the arms of the Republic, though, I can truly

aver, I had no conception of false money, and very little of the true,

knowing better how to make a Roman As than one of our threepenny pieces.

My master's tyranny rendered insupportable that labor I should otherwise

have loved, and drove me to vices I naturally despised, such as

falsehood, idleness, and theft. Nothing ever gave me a clearer

demonstration of the difference between filial dependence and abject

slavery, than the remembrance of the change produced in me at that

period. Hitherto I had enjoyed a reasonable liberty; this I had suddenly

lost. I was enterprising at my father's, free at Mr. Lambercier's,

discreet at my uncle's; but, with my master, I became fearful, and from

that moment my mind was vitiated. Accustomed to live on terms of perfect

equality, to be witness of no pleasures I could not command, to see no

dish I was not to partake of, or be sensible of a desire I might not

express; to be able to bring every wish of my heart to my lips--what a

transition!--at my master's I was scarce allowed to speak, was forced to

quit the table without tasting what I most longed for, and the room when

I had nothing particular to do there; was incessantly confined to my

work, while the liberty my master and his journeymen enjoyed, served only

to increase the weight of my subjection. When disputes happened to

arise, though conscious that I understood the subject better than any of

them, I dared not offer my opinion; in a word, everything I saw became an

object of desire, for no other reason than because I was not permitted to

enjoy anything. Farewell gayety, ease, those happy turns of expressions,

which formerly even made my faults escape correction. I recollect, with

pleasure, a circumstance that happened at my father's, which even now

makes me smile. Being for some fault ordered to bed without my supper,

as I was passing through the kitchen, with my poor morsel of bread in my

hand, I saw the meat turning on the spit; my father and the rest were

round the fire; I must bow to every one as I passed. When I had gone

through this ceremony, leering with a wistful eye at the roast meat,

which looked so inviting, and smelt so savory, I could not abstain from

making that a bow likewise, adding in a pitiful tone, good bye, roast

meal! This unpremeditated pleasantry put them in such good humor, that I

was permitted to stay, and partake of it. Perhaps the same thing might

have produced a similar effect at my master's, but such a thought could

never have occurred to me, or, if it had, I should not have had courage

to express it.

Thus I learned to covet, dissemble, lie, and, at length, to steal, a

propensity I never felt the least idea of before, though since that time

I have never been able entirely to divest myself of it. Desire and

inability united naturally led to this vice, which is the reason

pilfering is so common among footmen and apprentices, though the latter,

as they grow up, and find themselves in a situation where everything is

at their command, lose this shameful propensity. As I never experienced

the advantage, I never enjoyed the benefit.

Good sentiments, ill-directed, frequently lead children into vice.

Notwithstanding my continual wants and temptations, it was more than a

year before I could resolve to take even eatables. My first theft was

occasioned by complaisance, but it was productive of others which had not

so plausible an excuse.

My master had a journeyman named Verrat, whose mother lived in the

neighborhood, and had a garden at a considerable distance from the house,

which produced excellent asparagus. This Verrat, who had no great plenty

of money, took it in his head to rob her of the most early production of

her garden, and by the sale of it procure those indulgences he could not

otherwise afford himself; but not being very nimble, he did not care to

run the hazard of a surprise. After some preliminary flattery, which I

did not comprehend the meaning of, he proposed this expedition to me, as

an idea which had that moment struck him. At first I would not listen to

the proposal; but he persisted in his solicitation, and as I could never

resist the attacks of flattery, at length prevailed. In pursuance of

this virtuous resolution, I every morning repaired to the garden,

gathered the best of the asparagus, and took it to the Holard where some

good old women, who guessed how I came by it, wishing to diminish the

price, made no secret of their suspicions; this produced the desired

effect, for, being alarmed, I took whatever they offered, which being

taken to Mr. Verrat, was presently metamorphosed into a breakfast, and

divided with a companion of his; for, though I procured it, I never

partook of their good cheer, being fully satisfied with an inconsiderable

bribe.

I executed my roguery with the greatest fidelity, seeking only to please

my employer; and several days passed before it came into my head, to rob

the robber, and tithe Mr. Verrat's harvest. I never considered the

hazard I run in these expeditions, not only of a torrent of abuse, but

what I should have been still more sensible of, a hearty beating; for the

miscreant, who received the whole benefit, would certainly have denied

all knowledge of the fact, and I should only have received a double

portion of punishment for daring to accuse him, since being only an

apprentice, I stood no chance of being believed in opposition to a

journeyman. Thus, in every situation, powerful rogues know how to save

themselves at the expense of the feeble.

This practice taught me it was not so terrible to thieve as I had

imagined: I took care to make this discovery turn to some account,

helping myself to everything within my reach, that I conceived an

inclination for. I was not absolutely ill-fed at my master's, and

temperance was only painful to me by comparing it with the luxury he

enjoyed. The custom of sending young people from table precisely when

those things are served up which seem most tempting, is calculated to

increase their longing, and induces them to steal what they conceive to

be so delicious. It may be supposed I was not backward in this

particular: in general my knavery succeeded pretty well, though quite the

reverse when I happened to be detected.

I recollect an attempt to procure some apples, which was attended with

circumstances that make me smile and shudder even at this instant. The

fruit was standing in the pantry, which by a lattice at a considerable

height received light from the kitchen. One day, being alone in the

house, I climbed up to see these precious apples, which being out of my

reach, made this pantry appear the garden of Hesperides. I fetched the

spit--tried if it would reach them--it was too short--I lengthened it

with a small one which was used for game,--my master being very fond of

hunting, darted at them several times without success; at length was more

fortunate; being transported to find I was bringing up an apple, I drew

it gently to the lattice--was going to seize it when (who can express my

grief and astonishment!) I found it would not pass through--it was too

large. I tried every expedient to accomplish my design, sought

supporters to keep the spits in the same position, a knife to divide the

apple, and a lath to hold it with; at length, I so far succeeded as to

effect the division, and made no doubt of drawing the pieces through; but

it was scarcely separated, (compassionate reader, sympathize with my

affliction) when both pieces fell into the pantry.

Though I lost time by this experiment, I did not lose courage, but,

dreading a surprise, I put off the attempt till next day, when I hoped to

be more successful, and returned to my work as if nothing had happened,

without once thinking of what the two obvious witnesses I had left in the

pantry deposed against me.

The next day (a fine opportunity offering) I renew the trial. I fasten

the spits together; get on the stool; take aim; am just going to dart at

my prey--unfortunately the dragon did not sleep; the pantry door opens,

my master makes his appearance, and, looking up, exclaims, "Bravo!"

--The horror of that moment returns--the pen drops from my hand.

A continual repetition of ill treatment rendered me callous; it seemed a

kind of composition for my crimes, which authorized me to continue them,

and, instead of looking back at the punishment, I looked forward to

revenge. Being beat like a slave, I judged I had a right to all the

vices of one. I was convinced that to rob and be punished were

inseparable, and constituted, if I may so express myself, a kind of

traffic, in which, if I perform my part of the bargain, my master would

take care not to be deficient in his; that preliminary settled, I applied

myself to thieving with great tranquility, and whenever this

interrogatory occurred to my mind, "What will be the consequence?" the

reply was ready, "I know the worst, I shall be beat; no matter, I was

made for it."

I love good eating; am sensual, but not greedy; I have such a variety of

inclinations to gratify, that this can never predominate; and unless my

heart is unoccupied, which very rarely happens, I pay but little

attention to my appetite; to purloining eatables, but extended this

propensity to everything I wished to possess, and if I did not become a

robber in form, it was only because money never tempted me.

My master had a closet in the workshop, which he kept locked; this I

contrived to open and shut as often as I pleased, and laid his best

tools, fine drawings, impressions, in a word, everything he wished to

keep from me, under contribution.

These thefts were so far innocent, that they were always employed in his

service, but I was transported at having the trifles in my possession,

and imagined I stole the art with its productions. Besides what I have

mentioned, his boxes contained threads of gold and silver, a number of

small jewels, valuable medals, and money; yet, though I seldom had five

sous in my pocket, I do not recollect ever having cast a wishful look at

them; on the contrary, I beheld these valuables rather with terror than

with delight.

I am convinced the dread of taking money was, in a great measure, the

effect of education. There was mingled with the idea of it the fear of

infamy, a prison, punishment, and death: had I even felt the temptation,

these objects would have made me tremble; whereas my failings appeared a

species of waggery, and, in truth, they were little else; they could but

occasion a good trimming, and this I was already prepared for. A sheet

of fine drawing paper was a greater temptation than money sufficient to

have purchased a ream. This unreasonable caprice is connected with one

of the most striking singularities of my character, and has so far

influenced my conduct, that it requires a particular explanation.

My passions are extremely violent; while under their influence, nothing

can equal my impetuosity; I am an absolute stranger to discretion,

respect, fear, or decorum; rude, saucy, violent, and intrepid: no shame

can stop, no danger intimidate me. My mind is frequently so engrossed by

a single object, that beyond it the whole world is not worth a thought;

this is the enthusiasm of a moment, the next, perhaps, I am plunged in a

state of annihilation. Take me in my moments of tranquility, I am

indolence and timidity itself; a word to speak, the least trifle to

perform, appear an intolerable labor; everything alarms and terrifies me;

the very buzzing of a fly will make me shudder; I am so subdued by fear

and shame, that I would gladly shield myself from mortal view.

When obliged to exert myself, I am ignorant what to do! when forced to

speak, I am at a loss for words; and if any one looks at me, I am

instantly out of countenance. If animated with my subject, I express my

thoughts with ease, but, in ordinary conversations, I can say nothing

--absolutely nothing; and, being obliged to speak, renders them

insupportable.

I may add, that none of my predominant inclinations centre in those

pleasures which are to be purchased: money empoisons my delight; I must

have them unadulterated; I love those of the table, for instance, but

cannot endure the restraints of good company, or the intemperance of

taverns; I can enjoy them only with a friend, for alone it is equally

impossible; my imagination is then so occupied with other things, that I

find no pleasure in eating. Women who are to be purchased have no charms

for me; my beating heart cannot be satisfied without affection; it is the

same with every other enjoyment, if not truly disinterested, they are

absolutely insipid; in a word, I am fond of those things which are only

estimable to minds formed for the peculiar enjoyment of them.

I never thought money so desirable as it is usually imagined; if you

would enjoy you must transform it; and this transformation is frequently

attended with inconvenience; you must bargain, purchase, pay dear, be

badly served, and often duped. I buy an egg, am assured it is new-laid

--I find it stale; fruit in its utmost perfection--'tis absolutely green.

I love good wine, but where shall I get it? Not at my wine merchant's

--he will poison me to a certainty. I wish to be universally respected;

how shall I compass my design? I must make friends, send messages, write

letters, come, go, wait, and be frequently deceived. Money is the

perpetual source of uneasiness; I fear it more than I love good wine.

A thousand times, both during and since my apprenticeship, have I gone

out to purchase some nicety, I approach the pastry-cook's, perceive some

women at the counter, and imagine they are laughing at me. I pass a

fruit shop, see some fine pears, their appearance tempts me; but then two

or three young people are near, or a man I am acquainted with is standing

at the door; I take all that pass for persons I have some knowledge of,

and my near sight contributes to deceive me. I am everywhere

intimidated, restrained by some obstacle, and with money in my pocket

return as I went, for want of resolution to purchase what I long for.

I should enter into the most insipid details was I to relate the trouble,

shame, repugnance, and inconvenience of all kinds which I have

experienced in parting with my money, whether in my own person, or by the

agency of others; as I proceed, the reader will get acquainted with my

disposition, and perceive all this without my troubling him with the

recital.

This once comprehended, one of my apparent contradictions will be easily

accounted for, and the most sordid avarice reconciled with the greatest

contempt of money. It is a movable which I consider of so little value,

that, when destitute of it, I never wish to acquire any; and when I have

a sum I keep it by me, for want of knowing how to dispose of it to my

satisfaction; but let an agreeable and convenient opportunity present

itself, and I empty my purse with the utmost freedom; not that I would

have the reader imagine I am extravagant from a motive of ostentation,

quite the reverse; it was ever in subservience to my pleasures, and,

instead of glorying in expense, I endeavor to conceal it. I so well

perceive that money is not made to answer my purposes, that I am almost

ashamed to have any, and, still more, to make use of it.

Had I ever possessed a moderate independence, I am convinced I should

have had no propensity to become avaricious. I should have required no

more, and cheerfully lived up to my income; but my precarious situation

has constantly and necessarily kept me in fear. I love liberty, and I

loathe constraint, dependence, and all their kindred annoyances. As long

as my purse contains money it secures my independence, and exempts me

from the trouble of seeking other money, a trouble of which I have always

had a perfect horror; and the dread of seeing the end of my independence,

makes me proportionately unwilling to part with my money. The money that

we possess is the instrument of liberty, that which we lack and strive to

obtain is the instrument of slavery. Thence it is that I hold fast to

aught that I have, and yet covet nothing more.

My disinterestedness, then, is in reality only idleness, the pleasure of

possessing is not in my estimation worth the trouble of acquiring: and my

dissipation is only another form of idleness; when we have an opportunity

of disbursing pleasantly we should make the best possible use of it.

I am less tempted by money than by other objects, because between the

moment of possessing the money and that of using it to obtain the desired

object there is always an interval, however short; whereas to possess the

thing is to enjoy it. I see a thing and it tempts me; but if I see not

the thing itself but only the means of acquiring it, I am not tempted.

Therefore it is that I have been a pilferer, and am so even now, in the

way of mere trifles to which I take a fancy, and which I find it easier

to take than to ask for; but I never in my life recollect having taken a

farthing from any one, except about fifteen years ago, when I stole seven

francs and ten sous. The story is worth recounting, as it exhibits a

concurrence of ignorance and stupidity I should scarcely credit, did it

relate to any but myself.

It was in Paris: I was walking with M. de Franceul at the Palais Royal;

he pulled out his watch, he looked at it, and said to me, "Suppose we go

to the opera?"--"With all my heart." We go: he takes two box tickets,

gives me one, and enters himself with the other; I follow, find the door

crowded; and, looking in, see every one standing; judging, therefore,

that M. de Franceul might suppose me concealed by the company, I go out,

ask for my ticket, and, getting the money returned, leave the house,

without considering, that by then I had reached the door every one would

be seated, and M. de Franceul might readily perceive I was not there.

As nothing could be more opposite to my natural inclination than this

abominable meanness, I note it, to show there are moments of delirium

when men ought not to be judged by their actions: this was not stealing

the money, it was only stealing the use of it, and was the more infamous

for wanting the excuse of a temptation.

I should never end these accounts, was I to describe all the gradations

through which I passed, during my apprenticeship, from the sublimity of a

hero to the baseness of a villain. Though I entered into most of the

vices of my situation, I had no relish for its pleasures; the amusements

of my companions were displeasing, and when too much restraint had made

my business wearisome, I had nothing to amuse me. This renewed my taste

for reading which had long been neglected. I thus committed a fresh

offence, books made me neglect my work, and brought on additional

punishment, while inclination, strengthened by constraint, became an

unconquerable passion. La Tribu, a well-known librarian, furnished me

with all kinds; good or bad, I perused them with avidity, and without

discrimination.

It will be said; "at length, then, money became necessary"--true; but

this happened at a time when a taste for study had deprived me both of

resolution and activity; totally occupied by this new inclination, I only

wished to read, I robbed no longer. This is another of my peculiarities;

a mere nothing frequently calls me off from what I appear the most

attached to; I give in to the new idea; it becomes a passion, and

immediately every former desire is forgotten.

Reading was my new hobby; my heart beat with impatience to run over the

new book I carried in my pocket; the first moment I was alone, I seized

the opportunity to draw it out, and thought no longer of rummaging my

master's closet. I was even ashamed to think that I had been guilty of

such meanness; and had my amusements been more expensive, I no longer

felt an inclination to continue it. La Tribu gave me credit, and when

once I had the book in my possession, I thought no more of the trifle I

was to pay for it; as money came it naturally passed to this woman; and

when she chanced to be pressing, nothing was so conveniently at hand as

my own effects; to steal in advance required foresight, and robbing to

pay was no temptation.

The frequent blows I received from my master, with my private and

ill-chosen studies, rendered me reserved, unsociable, and almost

deranged my reason. Though my taste had not preserved me from silly

unmeaning books, by good fortune I was a stranger to licentious or

obscene ones; not that La Tribu (who was very accommodating) had any

scruple of lending these, on the contrary, to enhance their worth she

spoke of them with an air of mystery; this produced an effect she had

not foreseen, for both shame and disgust made me constantly refuse them.

Chance so well seconded my bashful disposition, that I was past the age

of thirty before I saw any of those dangerous compositions.

In less than a year I had exhausted La Tribu's scanty library, and was

unhappy for want of further amusement. My reading, though frequently

bad, had worn off my childish follies, and brought back my heart to

nobler sentiments than my condition had inspired; meantime disgusted with

all within my reach, and thinking everything charming that was out of it,

my present situation appeared extremely miserable. My passions began to

acquire strength, I felt their influence, without knowing whither they

would conduct me. I sometimes, indeed, thought of my former follies, but

sought no further.

At this time my imagination took a turn which helped to calm my

increasing emotions; it was, to contemplate those situations in the books

I had read, which produced the most striking effect on my mind; to

recall, combine, and apply them to myself in such a manner, as to become

one of the personages my recollection presented, and be continually in

those fancied circumstances which were most agreeable to my inclinations;

in a word, by contriving to place myself in these fictitious situations,

the idea of my real one was in a great measure obliterated.

This fondness for imaginary objects, and the facility with which I could

gain possession of them, completed my disgust for everything around me,

and fixed that inclination for solitude which has ever since been

predominant. We shall have more than once occasion to remark the effects

of a disposition, misanthropic and melancholy in appearance, but which

proceed, in fact, from a heart too affectionate, too ardent, which, for

want of similar dispositions, is constrained to content itself with

nonentities, and be satisfied with fiction. It is sufficient, at

present, to have traced the origin of a propensity which has modified my

passions, set bounds to each, and by giving too much ardor to my wishes,

has ever rendered me too indolent to obtain them.

Thus I attained my sixteenth year, uneasy, discontented with myself and

everything that surrounded me; displeased with my occupation; without

enjoying the pleasures common to my age, weeping without a cause, sighing

I knew not why, and fond of my chimerical ideas for want of more valuable

realities.

Every Sunday, after sermon-time, my companions came to fetch me out,

wishing me to partake of their diversions. I would willingly have been

excused, but when once engaged in amusement, I was more animated and

enterprising than any of them; it was equally difficult to engage or

restrain me; indeed, this was ever a leading trait in my character.

In our country walks I was ever foremost, and never thought of returning

till reminded by some of my companions. I was twice obliged to be from

my master's the whole night, the city gates having been shut before I

could reach them. The reader may imagine what treatment this procured me

the following mornings; but I was promised such a reception for the

third, that I made a firm resolution never to expose myself to the danger

of it. Notwithstanding my determination, I repeated this dreaded

transgression, my vigilance having been rendered useless by a cursed

captain, named M. Minutoli, who, when on guard, always shut the gate he

had charge of an hour before the usual time. I was returning home with

my two companions, and had got within half a league of the city, when I

heard them beat the tattoo; I redouble my pace, I run with my utmost

speed, I approach the bridge, see the soldiers already at their posts, I

call out to them in a suffocated voice--it is too late; I am twenty paces

from the guard, the first bridge is already drawn up, and I tremble to

see those terrible horns advanced in the air which announce the fatal and

inevitable destiny, which from this moment began to pursue me.

I threw myself on the glacis in a transport of despair, while my

companions, who only laughed at the accident, immediately determined what

to do. My resolution, though different from theirs, was equally sudden;

on the spot, I swore never to return to my master's, and the next

morning, when my companions entered the city, I bade them an eternal

adieu, conjuring them at the same time to inform my cousin Bernard of my

resolution, and the place where he might see me for the last time.

From the commencement of my apprenticeship I had seldom seen him; at

first, indeed, we saw each other on Sundays, but each acquiring different

habits, our meetings were less frequent. I am persuaded his mother

contributed greatly towards this change; he was to consider himself as a

person of consequence, I was a pitiful apprentice; notwithstanding our

relationship, equality no longer subsisted between us, and it was

degrading himself to frequent my company. As he had a natural good heart

his mother's lessons did not take an immediate effect, and for some time

he continued to visit me.

Having learned my resolution, he hastened to the spot I had appointed,

not, however, to dissuade me from it, but to render my flight agreeable,

by some trifling presents, as my own resources would not have carried me

far. He gave me among other things, a small sword, which I was very

proud of, and took with me as far as Turin, where absolute want

constrained me to dispose of it. The more I reflect on his behavior at

this critical moment, the more I am persuaded he followed the

instructions of his mother, and perhaps his father likewise: for, had he

been left to his own feelings, he would have endeavored to retain, or

have been tempted to accompany me; on the contrary, he encouraged the

design, and when he saw me resolutely determined to pursue it, without

seeming much affected, left me to my fate. We never saw or wrote to each

other from that time; I cannot but regret this loss, for his heart was

essentially good, and we seemed formed for a more lasting friendship.

Before I abandon myself to the fatality of my destiny, let me contemplate

for a moment the prospect that awaited me had I fallen into the hands of

a better master. Nothing could have been more agreeable to my

disposition, or more likely to confer happiness, than the peaceful

condition of a good artificer, in so respectable a line as engravers are

considered at Geneva. I could have obtained an easy subsistence, if not

a fortune; this would have bounded my ambition; I should have had means

to indulge in moderate pleasures, and should have continued in my natural

sphere, without meeting with any temptation to go beyond it. Having an

imagination sufficiently fertile to embellish with its chimeras every

situation, and powerful enough to transport me from one to another, it

was immaterial in which I was fixed: that was best adapted to me, which,

requiring the least care or exertion, left the mind most at liberty; and

this happiness I should have enjoyed. In my native country, in the bosom

of my religion, family and friends, I should have passed a calm and

peaceful life, in the uniformity of a pleasing occupation, and among

connections dear to my heart. I should have been a good Christian, a

good citizen, a good friend, a good man. I should have relished my

condition, perhaps have been an honor to it, and after having passed a

life of happy obscurity, surrounded by my family, I should have died at

peace. Soon it may be forgotten, but while remembered it would have been

with tenderness and regret.

Instead of this--what a picture am I about to draw!--Alas! why should I

anticipate the miseries I have endured? The reader will have but too

much of the melancholy subject.