can I say exactly how long I remained there; I only know that not finding
sufficient to subsist on, I went from thence to Neutchatel, where I
passed the winter. Here I succeeded better, I got some scholars, and
saved enough to pay my good friend Perrotet, who had faithfully sent my
baggage, though at that time I was considerably in his debt.
By continuing to teach music, I insensibly gained some knowledge of it.
The life I led was sufficiently agreeable, and any reasonable man might
have been satisfied, but my unsettled heart demanded something more.
On Sundays, or whenever I had leisure, I wandered, sighing and
thoughtful, about the adjoining woods, and when once out of the city
never returned before night. One day, being at Boudry, I went to dine at
a public-house, where I saw a man with a long beard, dressed in a
violet-colored Grecian habit, with a fur cap, and whose air and manner
were rather noble. This person found some difficulty in making himself
understood, speaking only an unintelligible jargon, which bore more
resemblance to Italian than any other language. I understood almost all
he said, and I was the only person present who could do so, for he was
obliged to make his request known to the landlord and others about him by
signs. On my speaking a few words in Italian, which he perfectly
understood, he got up and embraced me with rapture; a connection was soon
formed, and from that moment, I became his interpreter. His dinner was
excellent, mine rather worse than indifferent, he gave me an invitation
to dine with him, which I accepted without much ceremony. Drinking and
chatting soon rendered us familiar, and by the end of the repast we had
all the disposition in the world to become inseparable companions. He
informed me he was a Greek prelate, and 'Archimandrite' of Jerusalem;
that he had undertaken to make a gathering in Europe for the
reestablishment of the Holy Sepulchre, and showed me some very fine
patents from the czarina, the emperor, and several other sovereigns.
He was tolerably content with what he had collected hitherto, though he
had experienced inconceivable difficulties in Germany; for not
understanding a word of German, Latin, or French, he had been obliged to
have recourse to his Greek, Turkish Lingua Franca, which did not procure
him much in the country he was travelling through; his proposal,
therefore, to me was, that I should accompany him in the quality of
secretary and interpreter. In spite of my violet-colored coat, which
accorded well enough with the proposed employment, he guessed from my
meagre appearance, that I should easily be gained; and he was not
mistaken. The bargain was soon made, I demanded nothing, and he promised
liberally; thus, without any security or knowledge of the person I was
about to serve, I gave myself up entirely to his conduct, and the next
day behold me on an expedition to Jerusalem.
We began our expedition unsuccessfully by the canton of Fribourg.
Episcopal dignity would not suffer him to play the beggar, or solicit
help from private individuals; but we presented his commission to the
Senate, who gave him a trifling sum. From thence we went to Berne, where
we lodged at the Falcon, then a good inn, and frequented by respectable
company; the public table being well supplied and numerously attended.
I had fared indifferently so long, that I was glad to make myself amends,
therefore took care to profit by the present occasion. My lord, the
Archimandrite, was himself an excellent companion, loved good cheer, was
gay, spoke well for those who understood him, and knew perfectly well how
to make the most of his Grecian erudition. One day, at dessert while
cracking nuts, he cut his finger pretty deeply, and as it bled freely
showed it to the company, saying with a laugh, "Mirate, signori; questo a
sangue Pelasgo."
At Berne, I was not useless to him, nor was my performance so bad as I
had feared: I certainly spoke better and with more confidence than I
could have done for myself. Matters were not conducted here with the
same simplicity as at Fribourg; long and frequent conferences were
necessary with the Premiers of the State, and the examination of his
titles was not the work of a day; at length, everything being adjusted,
he was admitted to an audience by the Senate; I entered with him as
interpreter, and was ordered to speak. I expected nothing less, for it
never entered my mind, that after such long and frequent conferences with
the members, it was necessary to address the assembly collectively, as if
nothing had been said. Judge my embarrassment!--a man so bashful to
speak, not only in public, but before the whole of the Senate of Berne!
to speak impromptu, without a single moment for recollection; it was
enough to annihilate me--I was not even intimidated. I described
distinctly and clearly the commission of the Archimandrite; extolled the
piety of those princes who had contributed, and to heighten that of their
excellencies by emulation, added that less could not be expected from
their well--known munificence; then, endeavoring to prove that this good
work was equally interesting to all Christians, without distinction of
sect; and concluded by promising the benediction of Heaven to all those
who took part in it. I will not say that my discourse was the cause of
our success, but it was certainly well received; and on our quitting the
Archimandrite was gratified by a very genteel present, to which some very
handsome compliments were added on the understanding of his secretary;
these I had the agreeable office of interpreting; but could not take
courage to render them literally.
This was the only time in my life that I spoke in public, and before a
sovereign; and the only time, perhaps, that I spoke boldly and well.
What difference in the disposition of the same person. Three years ago,
having been to see my old friend, M. Roguin, at Yverdon, I received a
deputation to thank me for some books I had presented to the library of
that city; the Swiss are great speakers; these gentlemen, accordingly,
made me a long harangue, which I thought myself obliged in honor to
answer, but so embarrassed myself in the attempt, that my head became
confused, I stopped short, and was laughed at. Though naturally timid,
I have sometimes acted with confidence in my youth, but never in my
advanced age: the more I have seen of the world the less I have been able
to adapt its manners.
On leaving Berne, we went to Soleurre: the Archimandrite designing to
re-enter Germany, and return through Hungary or Poland to his own country.
This would have been a prodigious tour; but as the contents of his purse
rather increased than diminished during his journey, he was in no haste
to return. For me, who was almost as much pleased on horseback as on
foot, I would have desired no better than to have travelled thus during
my whole life; but it was pre-ordained that my journey should soon end.
The first thing we did after our arrival at Soleurre, was to pay our
respects to the French ambassador there. Unfortunately for my bishop,
this chanced to be the Marquis de Bonac, who had been ambassador at the
Porte, and was acquainted with every particular relative to the Holy
Sepulchre. The Archimandrite had an audience that lasted about a quarter
of an hour, to which I was not admitted, as the ambassador spoke French
and Italian at least as well as myself. On my Grecian's retiring, I was
prepared to follow him, but was detained: it was now my turn. Having
called myself a Parisian, as such, I was under the jurisdiction of his
excellency: he therefore asked me who I was? exhorting me to tell the
truth; this I promised to do, but entreated a private audience, which was
immediately granted. The ambassador took me to his closet, and shut the
door; there, throwing myself at his feet, I kept my word, nor should I
have said less, had I promised nothing, for a continual wish to unbosom
myself, puts my heart perpetually upon my lips. After having disclosed
myself without reserve to the musician Lutold, there was no occasion to
attempt acting the mysterious with the Marquis de Bonac, who was so well
pleased with my little history, and the ingenuousness with which I had
related it, that he led me to the ambassadress, and presented me, with an
abridgment of my recital. Madam de Bonac received me kindly, saying,
I must not be suffered to follow that Greek monk. It was accordingly
resolved that I should remain at their hotel till something better could
be done for me. I wished to bid adieu to my poor Archimandrite, for whom
I had conceived an attachment, but was not permitted; they sent him word
that I was to be detained there, and in quarter of an hour after, I saw
my little bundle arrive. M. de la Martiniere, secretary of the embassy,
had in a manner the care of me; while following him to the chamber
appropriated to my use, he said, "This apartment was occupied under the
Count de Luc, by a celebrated man of the same name as yourself; it is in
your power to succeed him in every respect, and cause it to be said
hereafter, Rousseau the First, Rousseau the Second." This similarity
which I did not then expect, would have been less flattering to my wishes
could I have foreseen at what price I should one day purchase the
distinction.
What M. de la Martiniere had said excited my curiosity; I read the works
of the person whose chamber I occupied, and on the strength of the
compliment that had been paid me (imagining I had a taste for poetry)
made my first essay in a cantata in praise of Madam de Bonac. This
inclination was not permanent, though from time to time I have composed
tolerable verses. I think it is a good exercise to teach elegant turns
of expression, and to write well in prose, but could never find
attractions enough in French poetry to give entirely in to it.
M. de la Martiniere wished to see my style, and asked me to write the
detail I had before made the ambassador; accordingly I wrote him a long
letter, which I have since been informed was preserved by M. de Marianne,
who had long been attached to the Marquis de Bonac, and has since
succeeded M. de Martiniere as secretary to the embassy of M. de
Courtellies.
The experience I began to acquire tended to moderate my romantic
projects; for example, I did not fall in love with Madam de Bonac, but
also felt I did not stand much chance of succeeding in the service of her
husband. M. de la Martiniere was already in the only place that could
have satisfied my ambition, and M. de Marianne in expectancy: thus my
utmost hopes could only aspire to the office of under secretary, which
did not infinitely tempt me: this was the reason that when consulted on
the situation I should like to be placed in, I expressed a great desire
to go to Paris. The ambassador readily gave in to the idea, which at
least tended to disembarrass him of me. M. de Mervilleux interpreting
secretary to the embassy, said, that his friend, M. Godard, a Swiss
colonel, in the service of France, wanted a person to be with his nephew,
who had entered very young into the service, and made no doubt that I
should suit him. On this idea, so lightly formed, my departure was
determined; and I, who saw a long journey to perform with Paris at the
end of it, was enraptured with the project. They gave me several
letters, a hundred livres to defray the expenses of my journey,
accompanied with some good advice, and thus equipped I departed.
I was a fortnight making the journey, which I may reckon among the
happiest days of my life. I was young, in perfect health, with plenty of
money, and the most brilliant hopes, add to this, I was on foot, and
alone. It may appear strange, I should mention the latter circumstance
as advantageous, if my peculiarity of temper is not already familiar to
the reader. I was continually occupied with a variety of pleasing
chimeras, and never did the warmth of my imagination produce more
magnificent ones. When offered an empty place in a carriage, or any
person accosted me on the road, how vexed was I to see that fortune
overthrown, whose edifice, while walking, I had taken such pains to rear.
For once my ideas were all martial: I was going to live with a military
man; nay, to become one, for it was concluded I should begin with being a
cadet. I already fancied myself in regimentals, with a fine white
feather nodding on my hat, and my heart was inflamed by the noble idea.
I had some smattering of geometry and fortification; my uncle was an
engineer; I was in a manner a soldier by inheritance. My short sight,
indeed, presented some little obstacle, but did not by any means
discourage me, as I reckoned to supply that defect by coolness and
intrepidity. I had read, too, that Marshal Schomberg was remarkably
shortsighted, and why might not Marshal Rousseau be the same? My
imagination was so warm by these follies, that it presented nothing but
troops, ramparts, gabions, batteries, and myself in the midst of fire and
smoke, an eyeglass in hand, commanding with the utmost tranquility.
Notwithstanding, when the country presented a delightful prospect, when I
saw charming groves and rivulets, the pleasing sight made me sigh with
regret, and feel, in the midst of all this glory, that my heart was not
formed for such havoc; and soon without knowing how, I found my thoughts
wandering among my dear sheep-folds, renouncing forever the labor of
Mars.
How much did Paris disappoint the idea I had formed of it! The exterior
decorations I had seen at Turin, the beauty of the streets, the symmetry
and regularity of the houses, contributed to this disappointment, since I
concluded that Paris must be infinitely superior. I had figured to
myself a splendid city, beautiful as large, of the most commanding
aspect, whose streets were ranges of magnificent palaces, composed of
marble and gold. On entering the faubourg St. Marceau, I saw nothing but
dirty stinking streets, filthy black houses, an air of slovenliness and
poverty, beggars, carters, butchers, cries of diet-drink and old hats.
This struck me so forcibly, that all I have since seen of real
magnificence in Paris could never erase this first impression, which has
ever given me a particular disgust to residing in that capital; and I may
say, the whole time I remained there afterwards, was employed in seeking
resources which might enable me to live at a distance from it. This is
the consequence of too lively imagination, which exaggerates even beyond
the voice of fame, and ever expects more than is told. I have heard
Paris so flatteringly described, that I pictured it like the ancient
Babylon, which, perhaps, had I seen, I might have found equally faulty,
and unlike that idea the account had conveyed. The same thing happened
at the Opera-house, to which I hastened the day after my arrival! I was
sensible of the same deficiency at Versailles! and some time after on
viewing the sea. I am convinced this would ever be the consequence of a
too flattering description of any object; for it is impossible for man,
and difficult even for nature herself, to surpass the riches of my
imagination.
By the reception I met with from all those to whom my letters were
addressed, I thought my fortune was certainly made. The person who
received me the least kindly was M. de Surbeck, to whom I had the
warmest recommendation. He had retired from the service, and lived
philosophically at Bagneux, where I waited on him several times without
his offering me even a glass of water. I was better received by Madam de
Merveilleux, sister-in-law to the interpreter, and by his nephew, who was
an officer in the guards. The mother and son not only received me
kindly, but offered me the use of their table, which favor I frequently
accepted during my stay at Paris.
Madam de Merveilleux appeared to have been handsome; her hair was of a
fine black, which, according to the old mode, she wore curled on the
temples. She still retained (what do not perish with a set of features)
the beauties of an amiable mind. She appeared satisfied with mine, and
did all she could to render me service; but no one seconded her
endeavors, and I was presently undeceived in the great interest they had
seemed to take in my affairs. I must, however, do the French nation the
justice to say, they do not so exhaust themselves with protestations,
as some have represented, and that those they make are usually sincere;
but they have a manner of appearing interested in your affairs, which is
more deceiving than words. The gross compliments of the Swiss can only
impose upon fools; the manners of the French are more seducing, and at
the same time so simple, that you are persuaded they do not express all
they mean to do for you, in order that you may be the more agreeably
surprised. I will say more; they are not false in their protestations,
being naturally zealous to oblige, humane, benevolent, and even (whatever
may be said to the contrary) more sincere than any other nation; but they
are too flighty: in effect they feel the sentiments they profess for you,
but that sentiment flies off as instantaneously as it was formed. In
speaking to you, their whole attention is employed on you alone, when
absent you are forgotten. Nothing is permanent in their hearts, all is
the work of the moment.
Thus I was greatly flattered, but received little service. Colonel
Godard for whose nephew I was recommended, proved to be an avaricious old
wretch, who, on seeing my distress (though he was immensely rich), wished
to have my services for nothing, meaning to place me with his nephew,
rather as a valet without wages than a tutor. He represented that as I
was to be continually engaged with him, I should be excused from duty,
and might live on my cadet's allowance; that is to say, on the pay of a
soldier: hardly would he consent to give me a uniform, thinking the
clothing of the army might serve. Madam de Merveilleux, provoked at his
proposals, persuaded me not to accept them; her son was of the same
opinion; something else was to be thought on, but no situation was
procured. Meantime, I began to be necessitated; for the hundred livres
with which I had commenced my journey could not last much longer;
happily, I received a small remittance from the ambassador, which was
very serviceable, nor do I think he would have abandoned me had I
possessed more patience; but languishing, waiting, soliciting, are to me
impossible: I was disheartened, displeased, and thus all my brilliant
expectations came once more to nothing. I had not all this time
forgotten my dear Madam de Warrens, but how was I to find her? Where
should I seek her? Madam de Merveilleux, who knew my story, assisted me
in the search, but for a long time unavailingly; at length, she informed
me that Madam de Warrens had set out from Paris about two months before,
but it was not known whether for Savoy or Turin, and that some
conjectured she was gone to Switzerland. Nothing further was necessary
to fix my determination to follow her, certain that wherever she might
be, I stood more chance of finding her at those places than I could
possibly do at Paris.
Before my departure, I exercised my new poetical talent in an epistle to
Colonel Godard, whom I ridiculed to the utmost of my abilities. I showed
this scribble to Madam de Merveilleux, who, instead of discouraging me,
as she ought to have done, laughed heartily at my sarcasms, as well as
her son, who, I believe, did not like M. Godard; indeed, it must be
confessed, he was a man not calculated to obtain affection. I was
tempted to send him my verses, and they encouraged me in it; accordingly
I made them up in a parcel directed to him, and there being no post then
at Paris by which I could conveniently send this, I put it in my pocket,
and sent it to him from Auxerre, as I passed through that place. I
laugh, even yet, sometimes, at the grimaces I fancy he made on reading
this panegyric, where he was certainly drawn to the life; it began thus:
Tu croyois, vieux Penard, qu' une folle manie
D' elever ton neveu m'inspireroit l'envie.
This little piece, which, it is true, was but indifferently written; did
not want for salt, and announced a turn for satire; it is,
notwithstanding, the only satirical writing that ever came from my pen.
I have too little hatred in my heart to take advantage of such a talent;
but I believe it may be judged from those controversies, in which from
time to time I have been engaged in my own defence, that had I been of a
vindictive disposition, my adversaries would rarely have had the laughter
on their side.
What I most regret, is not having kept a journal of my travels, being
conscious that a number of interesting details have slipped my memory;
for never did I exist so completely, never live so thoroughly, never was
so much myself, if I dare use the expression, as in those journeys made
on foot. Walking animates and enlivens my spirits; I can hardly think
when in a state of inactivity; my body must be exercised to make my
judgmemt active. The view of a fine country, a succession of agreeable
prospects, a free air, a good appetite, and the health I gained by
walking; the freedom of inns, and the distance from everything that can
make me recollect the dependence of my situation, conspire to free my
soul, and give boldness to my thoughts, throwing me, in a manner, into
the immensity of beings, where I combine, choose and appropriate them to
my fancy, without constraint or fear. I dispose of all nature as I
please; my heart wandering from object to object, approximates and unites
with those that please it, is surrounded by charming images, and becomes
intoxicated with delicious sensations. If, attempting to render these
permanent, I am amused in describing to myself, what glow of coloring,
what energy of expression, do I give them!--It has been said, that all
these are to be found in my works, though written in the decline of life.
Oh! had those of my early youth been seen, those made during my travels,
composed, but never written!--Why did I not write them? will be asked;
and why should I have written them? I may answer. Why deprive myself of
the actual charm of my enjoyments to inform others what I enjoyed? What
to me were readers, the public, or all the world, while I was mounting
the empyrean. Besides, did I carry pens, paper and ink with me? Had I
recollected all these, not a thought would have occurred worth
preserving. I do not foresee when I shall have ideas; they come when
they please, and not when I call for them; either they avoid me
altogether, or rushing in crowds, overwhelm me with their force and
number. Ten volumes a day would not suffice barely to enumerate my
thoughts; how then should I find time to write them? In stopping, I
thought of nothing but a hearty dinner; on departing, of nothing but a
charming walk; I felt that a new paradise awaited me at the door, and
eagerly leaped forward to enjoy it.
Never did I experience this so feelingly as in the perambulation I am now
describing. On coming to Paris, I had confined myself to ideas which
related to the situation I expected to occupy there. I had rushed into
the career I was about to run, and should have completed it with
tolerable eclat, but it was not that my heart adhered to. Some real
beings obscured my imagined ones--Colonel Godard and his nephew could not
keep pace with a hero of my disposition. Thank Heaven, I was soon
delivered from all these obstacles, and could enter at pleasure into the
wilderness of chimeras, for that alone remained before me, and I wandered
in it so completely that I several times lost my way; but this was no
misfortune, I would not have shortened it, for, feeling with regret, as I
approached Lyons, that I must again return to the material world, I
should have been glad never to have arrived there.