Book: The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, Complete

J >> Jean Jacques Rousseau >> The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, Complete




As soon as I was in a situation to leave my room, I wished to wait upon
M. de Richelieu, but it was too late; he had just set off for Dunkirk,
where he was to command the expedition destined to Scotland. At his
return, said I to myself, to authorize my idleness, it will be too late
for my purpose, not having seen him since that time. I lost the honor of
mywork and the emoluments it should have produced me, besides considering
my time, trouble, grief, and vexation, my illness, and the money this cost
me, without ever receiving the least benefit, or rather, recompense.
However, I always thought M. de Richelieu was disposed to serve me, and
that he had a favorable opinion of my talents; but my misfortune, and
Madam de la Popliniere, prevented the effect of his good wishes.

I could not divine the reason of the aversion this lady had to me. I had
always endeavored to make myself agreeable to her, and regularly paid her
my court. Gauffecourt explained to me the causes of her dislike: "The
first," said he, "is her friendship for Rameau, of whom she is the
declared panegyrist, and who will not suffer a competitor; the next is an
original sin, which ruins you in her estimation, and which she will never
forgive; you are a Genevese." Upon this he told me the Abbe Hubert, who
was from the same city, and the sincere friend of M. de la Popliniere,
had used all his efforts to prevent him from marrying this lady, with
whose character and temper he was very well acquainted; and that after
the marriage she had vowed him an implacable hatred, as well as all the
Genevese. "Although La Popliniere has a friendship for you, do not,"
said he, "depend upon his protection: he is still in love with his wife:
she hates you, and is vindictive and artful; you will never do anything
in that house." All this I took for granted.

The same Gauffecourt rendered me much about this time, a service of which
I stood in the greatest need. I had just lost my virtuous father, who
was about sixty years of age. I felt this loss less severely than I
should have done at any other time, when the embarrassments of my
situation had less engaged my attention. During his life-time I had
never claimed what remained of the property of my mother, and of which he
received the little interest. His death removed all my scruples upon
this subject. But the want of a legal proof of the death of my brother
created a difficulty which Gauffecourt undertook to remove, and this he
effected by means of the good offices of the advocate De Lolme. As I
stood in need of the little resource, and the event being doubtful, I
waited for a definitive account with the greatest anxiety.

One evening on entering my apartment I found a letter, which I knew to
contain the information I wanted, and I took it up with an impatient
trembling, of which I was inwardly ashamed. What? said I to myself,
with disdain, shall Jean Jacques thus suffer himself to be subdued by
interest and curiosity? I immediately laid the letter again upon the
chimney-piece. I undressed myself, went to bed with great composure,
slept better than ordinary, and rose in the morning at a late hour,
without thinking more of my letter. As I dressed myself, it caught my
eye; I broke the seal very leisurely, and found under the envelope a bill
of exchange. I felt a variety of pleasing sensations at the same time:
but I can assert, upon my honor, that the most lively of them all was
that proceeding from having known how to be master of myself.

I could mention twenty such circumstances in my life, but I am too much
pressed for time to say everything. I sent a small part of this money to
my poor mamma; regretting, with my eyes suffused with tears, the happy
time when I should have laid it all at her feet. All her letters
contained evident marks of her distress. She sent me piles of recipes,
and numerous secrets, with which she pretended I might make my fortune
and her own. The idea of her wretchedness already affected her heart and
contracted her mind. The little I sent her fell a prey to the knaves by
whom she was surrounded; she received not the least advantage from
anything. The idea of dividing what was necessary to my own subsistence
with these wretches disgusted me, especially after the vain attempt I had
made to deliver her from them, and of which I shall have occasion to
speak. Time slipped away, and with it the little money I had; we were
two, or indeed, four persons; or, to speak still more correctly, seven or
eight. Although Theresa was disinterested to a degree of which there are
but few examples, her mother was not so. She was no sooner a little
relieved from her necessities by my cares, than she sent for her whole
family to partake of the fruits of them. Her sisters, sons, daughters,
all except her eldest daughter, married to the director of the coaches of
Augers, came to Paris. Everything I did for Theresa, her mother diverted
from its original destination in favor of these people who were starving.
I had not to do with an avaricious person; and, not being under the
influence of an unruly passion, I was not guilty of follies. Satisfied
with genteelly supporting Theresa without luxury, and unexposed to
pressing wants, I readily consented to let all the earnings of her
industry go to the profit of her mother; and to this even I did not
confine myself; but, by a fatality by which I was pursued, whilst mamma
was a prey to the rascals about her Theresa was the same to her family;
and I could not do anything on either side for the benefit of her to whom
the succor I gave was destined. It was odd enough the youngest child of
M. de la Vasseur, the only one who had not received a marriage portion
from her parents, should provide for their subsistence; and that, after
having along time been beaten by her brothers, sisters, and even her
nieces, the poor girl should be plundered by them all, without being more
able to defend herself from their thefts than from their blows. One of
her nieces, named Gorton le Duc, was of a mild and amiable character;
although spoiled by the lessons and examples of the others. As I
frequently saw them together, I gave them names, which they afterwards
gave to each other; I called the niece my niece, and the aunt my aunt;
they both called me uncle. Hence the name of aunt, by which I continued
to call Theresa, and which my friends sometimes jocosely repeated. It
will be judged that in such a situation I had not a moment to lose,
before I attempted to extricate myself. Imagining M. de Richelieu had
forgotten me, and having no more hopes from the court, I made some
attempts to get my opera brought out at Paris; but I met with
difficulties which could not immediately be removed, and my situation
became daily more painful. I presented my little comedy of Narcisse to
the Italians; it was received, and I had the freedom of the theatre,
which gave much pleasure. But this was all; I could never get my piece
performed, and, tired of paying my court to players, I gave myself no
more trouble about them. At length I had recourse to the last expedient
which remained to me, and the only one of which I ought to have made use.
While frequenting the house of M. de la Popliniere, I had neglected the
family of Dupin. The two ladies, although related, were not on good
terms, and never saw each other. There was not the least intercourse
between the two families, and Thieriot was the only person who visited
both. He was desired to endeavor to bring me again to M. Dupin's. M. de
Francueil was then studying natural history and chemistry, and collecting
a cabinet. I believe he aspired to become a member of the Academy of
Sciences; to this effect he intended to write a book, and judged I might
be of use to him in the undertaking. Madam de Dupin, who, on her part,
had another work in contemplation, had much the same views in respect to
me. They wished to have me in common as a kind of secretary, and this
was the reason of the invitations of Thieriot.

I required that M. de Francueil should previously employ his interest
with that of Jelyote to get my work rehearsed at the operahouse; to this
he consented. The Muses Galantes were several times rehearsed, first at
the Magazine, and afterwards in the great theatre. The audience was very
numerous at the great rehearsal, and several parts of the composition
were highly applauded. However, during this rehearsal, very
ill-conducted by Rebel, I felt the piece would not be received; and that,
before it could appear, great alterations were necessary. I therefore
withdrew it without saying a word, or exposing myself to a refusal;
but I plainly perceived, by several indications, that the work, had it
been perfect, could not have succeeded. M. de Francueil had promised me
to get it rehearsed, but not that it should be received. He exactly kept
his word. I thought I perceived on this occasion, as well as many
others, that neither Madam Dupin nor himself were willing I should
acquire a certain reputation in the world, lest, after the publication of
their books, it should be supposed they had grafted their talents upon
mine. Yet as Madam Dupin always supposed those I had to be very
moderate, and never employed me except it was to write what she dictated,
or in researches of pure erudition, the reproach, with respect to her,
would have been unjust.

This last failure of success completed my discouragement. I abandoned
every prospect of fame and advancement; and, without further troubling my
head about real or imaginary talents, with which I had so little success,
I dedicated my whole time and cares to procure myself and Theresa a
subsistence in the manner most pleasing to those to whom it should be
agreeable to provide for it. I therefore entirely attached myself to
Madam Dupin and M. de Francueil. This did not place me in a very opulent
situation; for with eight or nine hundred livres, which I had the first
two years, I had scarcely enough to provide for my primary wants; being
obliged to live in their neighborhood, a dear part of the town, in a
furnished lodging, and having to pay for another lodging at the extremity
of Paris, at the very top of the Rue Saint Jacques, to which, let the
weather be as it would, I went almost every evening to supper. I soon
got into the track of my new occupations, and conceived a taste for them.
I attached myself to the study of chemistry, and attended several courses
of it with M. de Francueil at M. Rouelle's, and we began to scribble over
paper upon that science, of which we scarcely possessed the elements.
In 1717, we went to pass the autumn in Tourraine, at the castle of
Chenonceaux, a royal mansion upon the Cher, built by Henry the II, for
Diana of Poitiers, of whom the ciphers are still seen, and which is now
in the possession of M. Dupin, a farmer general. We amused ourselves
very agreeably in this beautiful place, and lived very well: I became as
fat there as a monk. Music was a favorite relaxation. I composed
several trios full of harmony, and of which I may perhaps speak in my
supplement if ever I should write one. Theatrical performances were
another resource. I wrote a comedy in fifteen days, entitled
'l'Engagement Temeraire',--[The Rash Engagement]--which will be found
amongst my papers; it has no other merit than that of being lively.
I composed several other little things: amongst others a poem entitled,
'l'Aliee de Sylvie', from the name of an alley in the park upon the bank
of the Cher; and this without discontinuing my chemical studies, or
interrupting what I had to do for Madam Dupin.

Whilst I was increasing my corpulency at Chenonceaux, that of my poor
Theresa was augmented at Paris in another manner, and at my return I
found the work I had put upon the frame in greater forwardness than I had
expected. This, on account of my situation, would have thrown me into
the greatest embarrassment, had not one of my messmates furnished me with
the only resource which could relieve me from it. This is one of those
essential narratives which I cannot give with too much simplicity;
because, in making an improper use of their names, I should either excuse
or inculpate myself, both of which in this place are entirely out of the
question.

During the residence of Altuna at Paris, instead of going to eat at a
'Traiteurs', he and I commonly eat in the neighborhood, almost opposite
the cul de sac of the opera, at the house of a Madam la Selle, the wife
of a tailor, who gave but very ordinary dinners, but whose table was much
frequented on account of the safe company which generally resorted to it;
no person was received without being introduced by one of those who used
the house. The commander, De Graville, an old debauchee, with much wit
and politeness, but obscene in conversation, lodged at the house, and
brought to it a set of riotous and extravagant young men; officers in the
guards and mousquetaires. The Commander de Nonant, chevalier to all the
girls of the opera, was the daily oracle, who conveyed to us the news of
this motley crew. M. du Plessis, a lieutenant-colonel, retired from the
service, an old man of great goodness and wisdom; and M. Ancelet, an
officer in the mousquetaires kept the young people in a certain kind of
order.

[It was to this M. Ancelet I gave a little comedy, after my own
manner entitled 'les Prisouniers de Guerre', which I wrote after the
disasters of the French in Bavaria and Bohemia: I dared not either
avow this comedy or show it, and this for the singular reason that
neither the King of France nor the French were ever better spoken of
nor praised with more sincerity of heart than in my piece though
written by a professed republican, I dared not declare myself the
panegyrist of a nation, whose maxims were exactly the reverse of my
own. More grieved at the misfortunes of France than the French
themselves I was afraid the public would construe into flattery and
mean complaisance the marks of a sincere attachment, of which in my
first part I have mentioned the date and the cause, and which I was
ashamed to show.]

This table was also frequented by commercial people, financiers
and contractors, but extremely polite, and such as were distinguished
amongst those of the same profession. M. de Besse, M. de Forcade,
and others whose names I have forgotten, in short, well-dressed
people of every description were seen there; except abbes and men of the
long robe, not one of whom I ever met in the house, and it was agreed not
to introduce men of either of these professions. This table,
sufficiently resorted to, was very cheerful without being noisy, and many
of the guests were waggish, without descending to vulgarity. The old
commander with all his smutty stories, with respect to the substance,
never lost sight of the politeness of the old court; nor did any indecent
expression, which even women would not have pardoned him, escape his
lips. His manner served as a rule to every person at table; all the
young men related their adventures of gallantry with equal grace and
freedom, and these narratives were the more complete, as the seraglio was
at the door; the entry which led to it was the same; for there was a
communication between this and the shop of Le Duchapt, a celebrated
milliner, who at that time had several very pretty girls, with whom our
young people went to chat before or after dinner. I should thus have
amused myself as well as the rest, had I been less modest: I had only to
go in as they did, but this I never had courage enough to do. With
respect to Madam de Selle, I often went to eat at her house after the
departure of Altuna. I learned a great number of amusing anecdotes, and
by degrees I adopted, thank God, not the morals, but the maxims I found
to be established there. Honest men injured, husbands deceived, women
seduced, were the most ordinary topics, and he who had best filled the
foundling hospital was always the most applauded. I caught the manners
I daily had before my eyes: I formed my manner of thinking upon that I
observed to be the reigning one amongst amiable: and upon the whole, very
honest people. I said to myself, since it is the custom of the country,
they who live here may adopt it; this is the expedient for which I
sought. I cheerfully determined upon it without the least scruple, and
the only one I had to overcome was that of Theresa, whom, with the
greatest imaginable difficulty, I persuaded to adopt this only means of
saving her honor. Her mother, who was moreover apprehensive of a new
embarrassment by an increase of family, came to my aid, and she at length
suffered herself to be prevailed upon. We made choice of a midwife, a
safe and prudent woman, Mademoiselle Gouin, who lived at the Point Saint
Eustache, and when the time came, Theresa was conducted to her house by
her mother.

I went thither several times to see her, and gave her a cipher which I
had made double upon two cards; one of them was put into the linen of the
child, and by the midwife deposited with the infant in the office of the
foundling hospital according to the customary form. The year following,
a similar inconvenience was remedied by the same expedient, excepting the
cipher, which was forgotten: no more reflection on my part, nor
approbation on that of the mother; she obeyed with trembling. All the
vicissitudes which this fatal conduct has produced in my manner of
thinking, as well as in my destiny, will be successively seen. For the
present, we will confine ourselves to this first period; its cruel and
unforeseen consequences will but too frequently oblige me to refer to it.

I here mark that of my first acquaintance with Madam D'Epinay, whose name
will frequently appear in these memoirs. She was a Mademoiselle D'
Esclavelles, and had lately been married to M. D'Epinay, son of M. de
Lalive de Bellegarde, a farmer general. She understood music, and a
passion for the art produced between these three persons the greatest
intimacy. Madam Prancueil introduced me to Madam D'Epinay, and we
sometimes supped together at her house. She was amiable, had wit and
talent, and was certainly a desirable acquaintance; but she had a female
friend, a Mademoiselle d'Ette, who was said to have much malignancy in
her disposition; she lived with the Chevalier de Valory, whose temper was
far from being one of the best. I am of opinion, an acquaintance with
these two persons was prejudicial to Madam D'Epinay, to whom, with a
disposition which required the greatest attention from those about her,
nature had given very excellent qualities to regulate or counterbalance
her extravagant pretensions. M. de Francueil inspired her with a part of
the friendship he had conceived for me, and told me of the connection
between them, of which, for that reason, I would not now speak, were it
not become so public as not to be concealed from M. D'Epinay himself.

M. de Francueil confided to me secrets of a very singular nature relative
to this lady, of which she herself never spoke to me, nor so much as
suspected my having a knowledge; for I never opened my lips to her upon
the subject, nor will I ever do it to any person. The confidence all
parties had in my prudence rendered my situation very embarrassing,
especially with Madam de Francueil, whose knowledge of me was sufficient
to remove from her all suspicion on my account, although I was connected
with her rival. I did everything I could to console this poor woman,
whose husband certainly did not return the affection she had for him.
I listened to these three persons separately; I kept all their secrets so
faithfully that not one of the three ever drew from me those of the two
others, and this, without concealing from either of the women my
attachment to each of them. Madam de Francueil, who frequently wished to
make me an agent, received refusals in form, and Madam D'Epinay, once
desiring me to charge myself with a letter to M. de Francueil received
the same mortification, accompanied by a very express declaration, that
if ever she wished to drive me forever from the house, she had only a
second time to make me a like proposition.

In justice to Madam D'Epinay, I must say, that far from being offended
with me she spoke of my conduct to M. de Francueil in terms of the
highest approbation, and continued to receive me as well, and as politely
as ever. It was thus, amidst the heart-burnings of three persons to whom
I was obliged to behave with the greatest circumspection, on whom I in
some measure depended, and for whom I had conceived an attachment, that
by conducting myself with mildness and complaisance, although accompanied
with the greatest firmness, I preserved unto the last not only their
friendship, but their esteem and confidence. Notwithstanding my
absurdities and awkwardness, Madam D'Epinay would have me make one of the
party to the Chevrette, a country-house, near Saint Denis, belonging to
M. de Bellegarde. There was a theatre, in which performances were not
unfrequent. I had a part given me, which I studied for six months
without intermission, and in which, on the evening of the representation,
I was obliged to be prompted from the beginning to the end. After this
experiment no second proposal of the kind was ever made to me.

My acquaintance with M. D'Epinay procured me that of her sister-in-law,
Mademoiselle de Bellegarde, who soon afterwards became Countess of
Houdetot. The first time I saw her she was upon the point of marriage;
when she conversed with me a long time, with that charming familiarity
which was natural to her. I thought her very amiable, but I was far from
perceiving that this young person would lead me, although innocently,
into the abyss in which I still remain.

Although I have not spoken of Diderot since my return from Venice, no
more than of my friend M. Roguin, I did not neglect either of them,
especially the former, with whom I daily became more intimate. He had a
Nannette, as well as I a Theresa; this was between us another conformity
of circumstances. But my Theresa, as fine a woman as his Nannette, was
of a mild and amiable character, which might gain and fix the affections
of a worthy man; whereas Nannette was a vixen, a troublesome prater, and
had no qualities in the eyes of others which in any measure compensated
for her want of education. However he married her, which was well done
of him, if he had given a promise to that effect. I, for my part, not
having entered into any such engagement, was not in the least haste to
imitate him.

I was also connected with the Abbe de Condillac, who had acquired no more
literary fame than myself, but in whom there was every appearance of his
becoming what he now is. I was perhaps the first who discovered the
extent of his abilities, and esteemed them as they deserved. He on his
part seemed satisfied with me, and, whilst shut up in my chamber in the
Rue Jean Saint Denis, near the opera-house, I composed my act of Hesiod,
he sometimes came to dine with me tete-a-tete. We sent for our dinner,
and paid share and share alike. He was at that time employed on his
Essay on the Origin of Human Knowledge, which was his first work. When
this was finished, the difficulty was to find a bookseller who would take
it. The booksellers of Paris are shy of every author at his beginning,
and metaphysics, not much then in vogue, were no very inviting subject.
I spoke to Diderot of Condillac and his work, and I afterwards brought
them acquainted with each other. They were worthy of each other's
esteem, and were presently on the most friendly terms. Diderot persuaded
the bookseller, Durand, to take the manuscript from the abbe, and this
great metaphysician received for his first work, and almost as a favor,
a hundred crowns, which perhaps he would not have obtained without my
assistance. As we lived in a quarter of the town very distant from each
other, we all assembled once a week at the Palais Royal, and went to dine
at the Hotel du Panier Fleuri. These little weekly dinners must have
been extremely pleasing to Diderot; for he who failed in almost all his
appointments never missed one of these. At our little meeting I formed
the plan of a periodical paper, entitled 'le Persifleur'--[The Jeerer]
--which Diderot and I were alternately to write. I sketched out the first
sheet, and this brought me acquainted with D'Alembert, to whom Diderot
had mentioned it. Unforeseen events frustrated our intention, and the
project was carried no further.

These two authors had just undertaken the 'Dictionnaire Encyclopedique',
which at first was intended to be nothing more than a kind of translation
of Chambers, something like that of the Medical Dictionary of James,
which Diderot had just finished. Diderot was desirous I should do
something in this second undertaking, and proposed to me the musical
part, which I accepted. This I executed in great haste, and consequently
very ill, in the three months he had given me, as well as all the authors
who were engaged in the work. But I was the only person in readiness at
the time prescribed. I gave him my manuscript, which I had copied by a
laquais, belonging to M. de Francueil of the name of Dupont, who wrote
very well. I paid him ten crowns out of my own pocket, and these have
never been reimbursed me. Diderot had promised me a retribution on the
part of the booksellers, of which he has never since spoken to me nor I
to him.

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