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

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




Whilst he seemed to address himself to me only, I suffered everything,
but being desirous of giving an account of the fruit, I was obliged to
declare by whom a great part of it had been stolen. Madam d'Epinay
desired me to pay and discharge him, and look out for another; I did so.
As this rascal rambled about the Hermitage in the night, armed with a
thick club staff with an iron ferrule, and accompanied by other villains
like himself, to relieve the governesses from their fears, I made his
successor sleep in the house with us; and this not being sufficient to
remove their apprehensions, I sent to ask M. d'Epinay for a musket, which
I kept in the chamber of the gardener, with a charge not to make use of
it except an attempt was made to break open the door or scale the walls
of the garden, and to fire nothing but powder, meaning only to frighten
the thieves. This was certainly the least precaution a man indisposed
could take for the common safety of himself and family, having to pass
the winter in the midst of a wood, with two timid women. I also procured
a little dog to serve as a sentinel. De Leyre coming to see me about
this time, I related to him my situation, and we laughed together at my
military apparatus. At his return to Paris he wished to amuse Diderot
with the story, and by this means the 'Coterie d'Holbachique' learned
that I was seriously resolved to pass the winter at the Hermitage. This
perseverance, of which they had not imagined me to be capable,
disconcerted them, and, until they could think of some other means of
making my residence disagreeable to me, they sent back, by means of
Diderot, the same De Leyre, who, though at first he had thought my
precautions quite natural, now pretended to discover that they were
inconsistent with my principles, and styled them more than ridiculous in
his letters, in which he overwhelmed me with pleasantries sufficiently
bitter and satirical to offend me had I been the least disposed to take
offence. But at that time being full of tender and affectionate
sentiments, and not susceptible of any other, I perceived in his biting
sarcasms nothing more than a jest, and believed him only jocose when
others would have thought him mad.

By my care and vigilance I guarded the garden so well, that, although
there had been but little fruit that year the produce was triple that of
the preceding years; it is true, I spared no pains to preserve it, and I
went so far as to escort what I sent to the Chevrette and to Epinay, and
to carry baskets of it myself. The aunt and I carried one of these,
which was so heavy that we were obliged to rest at every dozen steps, and
which we arrived with it we were quite wet with perspiration.

As soon as the bad season began to confine me to the house, I wished to
return to my indolent amusements, but this I found impossible. I had
everywhere two charming female friends before my eyes, their friend,
everything by which they were surrounded, the country they inhabited, and
the objects created or embellished for them by my imagination. I was no
longer myself for a moment, my delirium never left me. After many
useless efforts to banish all fictions from my mind, they at length
seduced me, and my future endeavors were confined to giving them order
and coherence, for the purpose of converting them into a species of
novel.

What embarrassed me most was, that I had contradicted myself so openly
and fully. After the severe principles I had just so publicly asserted,
after the austere maxims I had so loudly preached, and my violent
invectives against books, which breathed nothing but effeminacy and love,
could anything be less expected or more extraordinary, than to see me,
with my own hand, write my name in the list of authors of those books I
had so severely censured? I felt this incoherence in all its extent. I
reproached myself with it, I blushed at it and was vexed; but all this
could not bring me back to reason. Completely overcome, I was at all
risks obliged to submit, and to resolve to brave the What will the world
say of it? Except only deliberating afterwards whether or not I should
show my work, for I did not yet suppose I should ever determine to
publish it.

This resolution taken, I entirely abandoned myself to my reveries, and,
by frequently resolving these in my mind, formed with them the kind of
plan of which the execution has been seen. This was certainly the
greatest advantage that could be drawn from my follies; the love of good
which has never once been effaced from my heart, turned them towards
useful objects, the moral of which might have produced its good effects.
My voluptuous descriptions would have lost all their graces, had they
been devoid of the coloring of innocence.

A weak girl is an object of pity, whom love may render interesting, and
who frequently is not therefore the less amiable; but who can see without
indignation the manners of the age; and what is more disgusting than the
pride of an unchaste wife, who, openly treading under foot every duty,
pretends that her husband ought to be grateful for her unwillingness to
suffer herself to be taken in the fact? Perfect beings are not in
nature, and their examples are not near enough to us. But whoever says
that the description of a young person born with good dispositions, and a
heart equally tender and virtuous, who suffers herself, when a girl, to
be overcome by love, and when a woman, has resolution enough to conquer
in her turn, is upon the whole scandalous and useless, is a liar and a
hypocrite; hearken not to him.

Besides this object of morality and conjugal chastity which is radically
connected with all social order, I had in view one more secret in behalf
of concord and public peace, a greater, and perhaps more important object
in itself, at least for the moment for which it was created. The storm
brought on by the 'Encyclopedie', far from being appeased, was at the
time at its height. Two parties exasperated against each other to the
last degree of fury soon resembled enraged wolves, set on for their
mutual destruction, rather than Christians and philosophers, who had a
reciprocal wish to enlighten and convince each other, and lead their
brethren to the way of truth. Perhaps nothing more was wanting to each
party than a few turbulent chiefs, who possessed a little power, to make
this quarrel terminate in a civil war; and God only knows what a civil
war of religion founded on each side upon the most cruel intolerance
would have produced. Naturally an enemy to all spirit of party, I had
freely spoken severe truths to each, of which they had not listened.
I thought of another expedient, which, in my simplicity, appeared to me
admirable: this was to abate their reciprocal hatred by destroying their
prejudices, and showing to each party the virtue and merit which in the
other was worthy of public esteem and respect. This project, little
remarkable for its wisdom, which supported sincerity in mankind, and
whereby I fell into the error with which I reproached the Abbe de Saint
Pierre, had the success that was to be expected from it: It drew together
and united the parties for no other purpose than that of crushing the
author. Until experience made me discover my folly, I gave my attention
to it with a zeal worthy of the motive by which I was inspired; and I
imagined the two characters of Wolmar and Julia in an ecstasy, which made
me hope to render them both amiable, and, what is still more, by means of
each other.

Satisfied with having made a rough sketch of my plan, I returned to the
situations in detail, which I had marked out; and from the arrangement I
gave them resulted the first two parts of the Eloisa, which I finished
during the winter with inexpressible pleasure, procuring gilt-paper to
receive a fair copy of them, azure and silver powder to dry the writing,
and blue narrow ribbon to tack my sheets together; in a word, I thought
nothing sufficiently elegant and delicate for my two charming girls,
of whom, like another Pygmalion, I became madly enamoured. Every
evening, by the fireside, I read the two parts to the governesses. The
daughter, without saying a word, was like myself moved to tenderness,
and we mingled our sighs; her mother, finding there were no compliments,
understood nothing of the matter, remained unmoved, and at the intervals
when I was silent always repeated: "Sir, that is very fine."

Madam d'Epinay, uneasy at my being alone, in winter, in a solitary house,
in the midst of woods, often sent to inquire after my health. I never
had such real proofs of her friendship for me, to which mine never more
fully answered. It would be wrong in me were not I, among these proofs,
to make special mention of her portrait, which she sent me, at the same
time requesting instructions from me in what manner she might have mine,
painted by La Tour, and which had been shown at the exhibition. I ought
equally to speak of another proof of her attention to me, which, although
it be laughable, is a feature in the history of my character, on account
of the impression received from it. One day when it froze to an extreme
degree, in opening a packet she had sent me of several things I had
desired her to purchase for me, I found a little under-petticoat of
English flannel, which she told me she had worn, and desired I would make
of it an under-waistcoat.

This care, more than friendly, appeared to me so tender, and as if she
had stripped herself to clothe me, that in my emotion I repeatedly
kissed, shedding tears at the same time, both the note and the petticoat.
Theresa thought me mad. It is singular that of all the marks of
friendship Madam d'Epinay ever showed me this touched me the most, and
that ever since our rupture I have never recollected it without being
very sensibly affected. I for a long time preserved her little note, and
it would still have been in my possession had not it shared the fate of
my other notes received at the same period.

Although my disorder then gave me but little respite in winter, and a
part of the interval was employed in seeking relief from pain, this was
still upon the whole the season which since my residence in France I had
passed with most pleasure and tranquillity. During four or five months,
whilst the bad weather sheltered me from the interruptions of importunate
visits, I tasted to a greater degree than I had ever yet or have since
done, of that equal simple and independent life, the enjoyment of which
still made it more desirable to me; without any other company than the
two governesses in reality, and the two female cousins in idea. It was
then especially that I daily congratulated myself upon the resolution I
had had the good sense to take, unmindful of the clamors of my friends,
who were vexed at seeing me delivered from their tyranny; and when I
heard of the attempt of a madman, when De Leyre and Madam d'Epinay spoke
to me in letters of the trouble and agitation which reigned in Paris, how
thankful was I to Heaven for having placed me at a distance from all such
spectacles of horror and guilt. These would have been continued and
increased the bilious humor which the sight of public disorders had given
me; whilst seeing nothing around me in my retirement but gay and pleasing
objects, my heart was wholly abandoned to sentiments which were amiable.

I remark here with pleasure the course of the last peaceful moments that
were left me. The spring succeeding to this winter, which had been so
calm, developed the germ of the misfortunes I have yet to describe; in
the tissue of which, alike interval, wherein I had leisure to respite,
will not be found.

I think however, I recollect, that during this interval of peace, and in
the bosom of my solitude, I was not quite undisturbed by the Holbachiens.
Diderot stirred me up some strife, and I am much deceived if it was not
in the course of this winter that the 'Fils Naturel'--[Natural Son]--of
which I shall soon have occasion to speak, made its appearance.
Independently of the causes which left me but few papers relative to that
period, those even which I have been able to preserve are not very exact
with respect to dates. Diderot never dated his letters--Madam d'Epinay
and Madam d' Houdetot seldom dated theirs except the day of the week, and
De Leyre mostly confined himself to the same rules. When I was desirous
of putting these letters in order I was obliged to supply what was
wanting by guessing at dates, so uncertain that I cannot depend upon
them. Unable therefore to fix with certainty the beginning of these
quarrels, I prefer relating in one subsequent article everything I can
recollect concerning them.

The return of spring had increased my amorous delirium, and in my
melancholy, occasioned by the excess of my transports, I had composed for
the last parts of Eloisa several letters, wherein evident marks of the
rapture in which I wrote them are found. Amongst others I may quote
those from the Elysium, and the excursion upon the lake, which, if my
memory does not deceive me, are at the end of the fourth part. Whoever,
in reading these letters, does not feel his heart soften and melt into
the tenderness by which they were dictated, ought to lay down the book:
nature has refused him the means of judging of sentiment.

Precisely at the same time I received a second unforeseen visit from
Madam d'Houdetot, in the absence of her husband, who was captain of the
Gendarmarie, and of her lover, who was also in the service. She had come
to Eaubonne, in the middle of the Valley of Montmorency, where she had
taken a pretty house, from thence she made a new excursion to the
Hermitage. She came on horseback, and dressed in men's clothes.
Although I am not very fond of this kind of masquerade, I was struck with
the romantic appearance she made, and, for once, it was with love. As
this was the first and only time in all my life, the consequence of which
will forever render it terrible to my remembrance, I must take the
permission to enter into some particulars on the subject.

The Countess d'Houdetot was nearly thirty years of age, and not handsome;
her face was marked with the smallpox, her complexion coarse, she was
short-sighted, and her eyes were rather round; but she had fine long
black hair, which hung down in natural curls below her waist; her figure
was agreeable, and she was at once both awkward and graceful in her
motions; her wit was natural and pleasing; to this gayety, heedlessness
and ingenuousness were perfectly suited: she abounded in charming
sallies, after which she so little sought, that they sometimes escaped
her lips in spite of herself. She possessed several agreeable talents,
played the harpsichord, danced well, and wrote pleasing poetry. Her
character was angelic--this was founded upon a sweetness of mind, and
except prudence and fortitude, contained in it every virtue. She was
besides so much to be depended upon in all intercourse, so faithful in
society, even her enemies were not under the necessity of concealing from
her their secrets. I mean by her enemies the men, or rather the women,
by whom she was not beloved; for as to herself she had not a heart
capable of hatred, and I am of opinion this conformity with mine greatly
contributed towards inspiring me with a passion for her. In confidence
of the most intimate friendship, I never heard her speak ill of persons
who were absent, nor even of her sister-in-law. She could neither
conceal her thoughts from anyone, nor disguise any of her sentiments, and
I am persuaded she spoke of her lover to her husband, as she spoke of him
to her friends and acquaintances, and to everybody without distinction of
persons. What proved, beyond all manner of doubt, the purity and
sincerity of her nature was, that subject to very extraordinary absences
of mind, and the most laughable inconsiderateness, she was often guilty
of some very imprudent ones with respect to herself, but never in the
least offensive to any person whatsoever.

She had been married very young and against her inclinations to the Comte
d'Houdetot, a man of fashion, and a good officer; but a man who loved
play and chicane, who was not very amiable, and whom she never loved.
She found in M. de Saint Lambert all the merit of her husband, with more
ageeeable qualities of mind, joined with virtue and talents. If anything
in the manners of the age can be pardoned, it is an attachment which
duration renders more pure, to which its effects do honor, and which
becomes cemented by reciprocal esteem. It was a little from inclination,
as I am disposed to think, but much more to please Saint Lambert, that
she came to see me. He had requested her to do it, and there was reason
to believe the friendship which began to be established between us would
render this society agreeable to all three. She knew I was acquainted
with their connection, and as she could speak to me without restraint, it
was natural she should find my conversation agreeable. She came; I saw
her; I was intoxicated with love without an object; this intoxication
fascinated my eyes; the object fixed itself upon her. I saw my Julia in
Madam d'Houdetot, and I soon saw nothing but Madam d'Houdetot, but with
all the perfections with which I had just adorned the idol of my heart.
To complete my delirium she spoke to me of Saint Lambert with a fondness
of a passionate lover. Contagious force of love! while listening to her,
and finding myself near her, I was seized with a delicious trembling,
which I had never before experienced when near to any person whatsoever.
She spoke, and I felt myself affected; I thought I was nothing more than
interested in her sentiments, when I perceived I possessed those which
were similar; I drank freely of the poisoned cup, of which I yet tasted
nothing more than the sweetness. Finally, imperceptibly to us both, she
inspired me for herself with all she expressed for her lover. Alas! it
was very late in life, and cruel was it to consume with a passion not
less violent than unfortunate for a woman whose heart was already in the
possession of another.

Notwithstanding the extraordinary emotions I had felt when near to her,
I did not at first perceive what had happened to me; it was not until
after her departure that, wishing to think of Julia, I was struck with
surprise at being unable to think of anything but Madam d' Houdetot.
Then was it my eyes were opened: I felt my misfortune, and lamented what
had happened, but I did not foresee the consequences.

I hesitated a long time on the manner in which I should conduct myself
towards her, as if real love left behind it sufficient reason to
deliberate and act accordingly. I had not yet determined upon this when
she unexpectedly returned and found me unprovided. It was this time,
perfectly acquainted with my situation, shame, the companion of evil,
rendered me dumb, and made me tremble in her presence; I neither dared to
open my mouth or raise my eyes; I was in an inexpressible confusion which
it was impossible she should not perceive. I resolved to confess to her
my troubled state of mind, and left her to guess the cause whence it
proceeded: this was telling her in terms sufficiently clear.

Had I been young and amiable, and Madam d' Houdetot, afterwards weak,
I should here blame her conduct; but this was not the case, and I am
obliged to applaud and admire it. The resolution she took was equally
prudent and generous. She could not suddenly break with me without
giving her reasons for it to Saint Lambert, who himself had desired her
to come and see me; this would have exposed two friends to a rupture,
and perhaps a public one, which she wished to avoid. She had for me
esteem and good wishes; she pitied my folly without encouraging it,
and endeavored to restore me to reason. She was glad to preserve to her
lover and herself a friend for whom she had some respect; and she spoke
of nothing with more pleasure than the intimate and agreeable society we
might form between us three the moment I should become reasonable.
She did not always confine herself to these friendly exhortations, and,
in case of need, did not spare me more severe reproaches, which I had
richly deserved.

I spared myself still less: the moment I was alone I began to recover;
I was more calm after my declaration--love, known to the person by whom
it is inspired, becomes more supportable.

The forcible manner in which I approached myself with mine, ought to have
cured me of it had the thing been possible. What powerful motives did I
not call to my mind to stifle it? My morals, sentiments and principles;
the shame, the treachery and crime, of abusing what was confided to
friendship, and the ridiculousness of burning, at my age, with the most
extravagant passion for an object whose heart was preengaged, and who
could neither make me a return, nor least hope; moreover with a passion
which, far from having anything to gain by constancy, daily became less
sufferable.

We would imagine that the last consideration which ought to have added
weight to all the others, was that whereby I eluded them! What scruple,
thought I, ought I to make of a folly prejudicial to nobody but myself?
Am I then a young man of whom Madam d'Houdetot ought to be afraid? Would
not it be said by my presumptive remorse that, by my gallantry, manner
and dress, I was going to seduce her? Poor Jean Jacques, love on at thy
ease, in all safety of conscience, and be not afraid that thy sighs will
be prejudicial to Saint Lambert.

It has been seen that I never was a coxcomb, not even in my youth. The
manner of thinking, of which I have spoken, was according to my turn of
mind, it flattered my passions; this, was sufficient to induce me to
abandon myself to it without reserve, and to laugh even at the
impertinent scruple I thought I had made from vanity, rather than from
reason. This is a great lesson for virtuous minds, which vice never
attacks openly; it finds means to surprise them by masking itself with
sophisms, and not unfrequently with a virtue.

Guilty without remorse, I soon became so without measure; and I entreat
it may be observed in what manner my passion followed my nature, at
length to plunge me into an abyss. In the first place, it assumed the
air of humility to encourage me; and to render me intrepid it carried
this humility even to mistrust. Madam d'Houdetot incessantly putting in
mind of my duty, without once for a single moment flattering my folly,
treated me with the greatest mildness, and remained with me upon the
footing of the most tender friendship. This friendship would, I protest,
have satisfied my wishes, had I thought it sincere; but finding it too
strong to be real, I took it into my head that love, so ill-suited to my
age and appearance, had rendered me contemptible in the eyes of Madam
d'Houdetot; that this young mad creature only wished to divert herself
with me and my superannuated passion; that she had communicated this to
Saint Lambert; and that the indignation caused by my breach of
friendship, having made her lover enter into her views, they were agreed
to turn my head and then to laugh at me. This folly, which at twenty-six
years of age, had made me guilty of some extravagant behavior to Madam de
Larnage, whom I did not know, would have been pardonable in me at
forty-five with Madam d' Houdetot had not I known that she and her lover
were persons of too much uprightness to indulge themselves in such a
barbarous amusement.

Madam d' Houdetot continued her visits, which I delayed not to return.
She, as well as myself, was fond of walking, and we took long walks in an
enchanting country. Satisfied with loving and daring to say I loved, I
should have been in the most agreeable situation had not my extravagance
spoiled all the charm of it. She, at first, could not comprehend the
foolish pettishness with which I received her attentions; but my heart,
incapable of concealing what passed in it, did not long leave her
ignorant of my suspicions; she endeavored to laugh at them, but this
expedient did not succeed; transports of rage would have been the
consequence, and she changed her tone. Her compassionate gentleness was
invincible; she made me reproaches, which penetrated my heart; she
expressed an inquietude at my unjust fears, of which I took advantage.
I required proofs of her being in earnest. She perceived there was no
other means of relieving me from my apprehensions. I became pressing:
the step was delicate. It is astonishing, and perhaps without example,
that a woman having suffered herself to be brought to hesitate should
have got herself off so well. She refused me nothing the most tender
friendship could grant; yet she granted me nothing that rendered her
unfaithful, and I had the mortification to see that the disorder into
which the most trifling favors had thrown all my senses had not the least
effect upon hers.

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