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

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




[I had found in his 'Elemens de Musique' (Elements of Music)
several things taken from what I had written for the 'Encyclopedie',
and which were given to him several years before the publication of
his elements. I know not what he may have had to do with a book
entitled 'Dictionaire des Beaux Arts' (Dictionary of the Fine Arts)
but I found in it articles transcribed word for word from mine, and
this long before the same articles were printed in the
Encyclopedie.]

In a very little time I thought no more of the trick that had been
played me than if nothing had happened, and began to collect the
materials I had left for the purpose of undertaking my projected
confessions.

I had long thought the company of ministers, or at least the citizens and
burgesses of Geneva, would remonstrate against the infraction of the
edict in the decree made against me. Everything remained quiet, at least
to all exterior appearance; for discontent was general, and ready, on the
first opportunity, openly to manifest itself. My friends, or persons
calling themselves such, wrote letter after letter exhorting me to come
and put myself at their head, assuring me of public separation from the
council. The fear of the disturbance and troubles which might be caused
by my presence, prevented me from acquiescing with their desires, and,
faithful to the oath I had formerly made, never to take the least part in
any civil dissension in my country, I chose rather to let the offence
remain as it was, and banish myself forever from the country, than to
return to it by means which were violent and dangerous. It is true,
I expected the burgesses would make legal remonstrances against an
infraction in which their interests were deeply concerned; but no such
steps were taken. They who conducted the body of citizens sought less
the real redress of grievances than an opportunity to render themselves
necessary. They caballed but were silent, and suffered me to be
bespattered by the gossips and hypocrites set on to render me odious in
the eyes of the populace, and pass upon them their boistering for a zeal
in favor of religion.

After having, during a whole year, vainly expected that some one would
remonstrate against an illegal proceeding, and seeing myself abandoned by
my fellow-citizens, I determined to renounce my ungrateful country in
which I never had lived, from which I had not received either inheritance
or services, and by which, in return for the honor I had endeavored to do
it, I saw myself so unworthily treated by unanimous consent, since they,
who should have spoken, had remained silent. I therefore wrote to the
first syndic for that year, to M. Favre, if I remember right, a letter in
which I solemnly gave up my freedom of the city of Geneva, carefully
observing in it, however, that decency and moderation, from which I have
never departed in the acts of haughtiness which, in my misfortunes, the
cruelty of my enemies have frequently forced upon me,

This step opened the eyes of the citizens, who feeling they had neglected
their own interests by abandoning my defence, took my part when it was
too late. They had wrongs of their own which they joined to mine, and
made these the subject of several well-reasoned representations, which
they strengthened and extended, as the refusal of the council, supported
by the ministry of France, made them more clearly perceive the project
formed to impose on them a yoke. These altercations produced several
pamphlets which were undecisive, until that appeared entitled 'Lettres
ecrites de la Campagne', a work written in favor of the council, with
infinite art, and by which the remonstrating party, reduced to silence,
was crushed for a time. This production, a lasting monument of the rare
talents of its author, came from the Attorney-General Tronchin, a man of
wit and an enlightened understanding, well versed in the laws and
government of the republic. 'Siluit terra'.

The remonstrators, recovered from their first overthrow, undertook to
give an answer, and in time produced one which brought them off tolerably
well. But they all looked to me, as the only person capable of combating
a like adversary with hope of success. I confess I was of their opinion,
and excited by my former fellow-citizens, who thought it was my duty to
aid them with my pen, as I had been the cause of their embarrassment, I
undertook to refute the 'Lettres ecrites de la Campagne', and parodied
the title of them by that of 'Lettres ecrites de la Montagne,' which I
gave to mine. I wrote this answer so secretly, that at a meeting I had
at Thonon, with the chiefs of the malcontents to talk of their affairs,
and where they showed me a sketch of their answer, I said not a word of
mine, which was quite ready, fearing obstacles might arise relative to
the impression of it, should the magistrate or my enemies hear of what I
had done. This work was, however known in France before the publication;
but government chose rather to let it appear, than to suffer me to guess
at the means by which my secret had been discovered. Concerning this I
will state what I know, which is but trifling: what I have conjectured
shall remain with myself.

I received, at Motiers, almost as many visits as at the Hermitage and
Montmorency; but these, for the most part were a different kind. They
who had formerly come to see me were people who, having taste, talents,
and principles, something similar to mine, alleged them as the causes of
their visits, and introduced subjects on which I could converse. At
Motiers the case was different, especially with the visitors who came
from France. They were officers or other persons who had no taste for
literature, nor had many of them read my works, although, according to
their own accounts, they had travelled thirty, forty, sixty, and even a
hundred leagues to come and see me, and admire the illustrious man, the
very celebrated, the great man, etc. For from the time of my settling at
Motiers, I received the most impudent flattery, from which the esteem of
those with whom I associated had formerly sheltered me. As but few of my
new visitors deigned to tell me who or what they were, and as they had
neither read nor cast their eye over my works, nor had their researches
and mine been directed to the same objects, I knew not what to speak to
them upon: I waited for what they had to say, because it was for them to
know and tell me the purpose of their visit. It will naturally be
imagined this did not produce conversations very interesting to me,
although they, perhaps, were so to my visitors, according to the
information they might wish to acquire; for as I was without suspicion,
I answered without reserve, to every question they thought proper to ask
me, and they commonly went away as well informed as myself of the
particulars of my situation.

I was, for example, visited in this manner by M. de Feins, equerry to the
queen, and captain of cavalry, who had the patience to pass several days
at Motiers, and to follow me on foot even to La Ferriere, leading his
horse by the bridle, without having with me any point of union, except
our acquaintance with Mademoiselle Fel, and that we both played at
'bilboquet'. [A kind of cup and ball.]

Before this I had received another visit much more extraordinary. Two
men arrived on foot, each leading a mule loaded with his little baggage,
lodging at the inn, taking care of their mules and asking to see me. By
the equipage of these muleteers they were taken for smugglers, and the
news that smugglers were come to see me was instantly spread. Their
manner of addressing me sufficiently showed they were persons of another
description; but without being smugglers they might be adventurers, and
this doubt kept me for some time on my guard. They soon removed my
apprehensions. One was M. de Montauban, who had the title of Comte de la
Tour du Pin, gentleman to the dauphin; the other, M. Dastier de
Carpentras, an old officer who had his cross of St. Louis in his pocket,
because he could not display it. These gentlemen, both very amiable,
were men of sense, and their manner of travelling, so much to my own
taste, and but little like that of French gentlemen, in some measure
gained them my attachment, which an intercourse with them served to
improve. Our acquaintance did not end with the visit; it is still kept
up, and they have since been several times to see me, not on foot, that
was very well for the first time; but the more I have seen of these
gentlemen the less similarity have I found between their taste and mine;
I have not discovered their maxims to be such as I have ever observed,
that my writings are familiar to them, or that there is any real sympathy
between them and myself. What, therefore, did they want with me? Why
came they to see me with such an equipage? Why repeat their visit? Why
were they so desirous of having me for their host? I did not at that
time propose to myself these questions; but they have sometimes occurred
to me since.

Won by their advances, my heart abandoned itself without reserve,
especially to M. Dastier, with whose open countenance I was more
particularly pleased. I even corresponded with him, and when I
determined to print the 'Letters from the Mountains', I thought of
addressing myself to him, to deceive those by whom my packet was waited
for upon the road to Holland. He had spoken to me a good deal, and
perhaps purposely, upon the liberty of the press at Avignon; he offered
me his services should I have anything to print there: I took advantage
of the offer and sent him successively by the post my first sheets.
After having kept these for some time, he sent them back to me,
"Because," said he, "no bookseller dared to sell them;" and I was obliged
to have recourse to Rey taking care to send my papers, one after the
other, and not to part with those which succeeded until I had advice of
the reception of those already sent. Before the work was published,
I found it had been seen in the office of the ministers, and D'Escherny,
of Neuchatel, spoke to me of the book, entitled 'Del' Homme de la
Monlagne', which D'Holbach had told him was by me. I assured him, and it
was true, that I never had written a book which bore that title. When
the letters appeared he became furious, and accused me of falsehood;
although I had told him truth. By this means I was certain my manuscript
had been read; as I could not doubt the fidelity of Rey, the most
rational conjecture seemed to be, that my packets had been opened at the
post-house.

Another acquaintance I made much about the same time, but which was begun
by letters, was that with M. Laliand of Nimes, who wrote to me from
Paris, begging I would send him my profile; he said he was in want of it
for my bust in marble, which Le Moine was making for him to be placed in
his library. If this was a pretence invented to deceive me, it fully
succeeded. I imagined that a man who wished to have my bust in marble in
his library had his head full of my works, consequently of my principles,
and that he loved me because his mind was in unison with mine. It was
natural this idea should seduce me. I have since seen M. Laliand. I
found him very ready to render me many trifling services, and to concern
himself in my little affairs, but I have my doubts of his having, in the
few books he ever read, fallen upon any one of those I have written. I
do not know that he has a library, or that such a thing is of any use to
him; and for the bust he has a bad figure in plaster, by Le Moine, from
which has been engraved a hideous portrait that bears my name, as if it
bore to me some resemblance.

The only Frenchman who seemed to come to see me, on account of my
sentiments, and his taste for my works, was a young officer of the
regiment of Limousin, named Seguier de St. Brisson. He made a figure in
Paris, where he still perhaps distinguishes himself by his pleasing
talents and wit. He came once to Montmorency, the winter which preceded
my catastrophe. I was pleased with his vivacity. He afterwards wrote to
me at Motiers, and whether he wished to flatter me, or that his head was
turned with Emilius, he informed me he was about to quit the service to
live independently, and had begun to learn the trade of a carpenter. He
had an elder brother, a captain in the same regiment, the favorite of the
mother, who, a devotee to excess, and directed by I know not what
hypocrite, did not treat the youngest son well, accusing him of
irreligion, and what was still worse, of the unpardonable crime of being
connected with me. These were the grievances, on account of which he was
determined to break with his mother, and adopt the manner of life of
which I have just spoken, all to play the part of the young Emilius.
Alarmed at his petulance, I immediately wrote to him, endeavoring to make
him change his resolution, and my exhortations were as strong as I could
make them. They had their effect. He returned to his duty, to his
mother, and took back the resignation he had given the colonel, who had
been prudent enough to make no use of it, that the young man might have
time to reflect upon what he had done. St. Brisson, cured of these
follies, was guilty of another less alarming, but, to me, not less
disagreeable than the rest: he became an author. He successively
published two or three pamphlets which announced a man not devoid of
talents, but I have not to reproach myself with having encouraged him by
my praises to continue to write.

Some time afterwards he came to see me, and we made together a pilgrimage
to the island of St. Pierre. During this journey I found him different
from what I saw of him at Montmorency. He had, in his manner, something
affected, which at first did not much disgust me, although I have since
thought of it to his disadvantage. He once visited me at the hotel de
St. Simon, as I passed through Paris on my way to England. I learned
there what he had not told me, that he lived in the great world, and
often visited Madam de Luxembourg. Whilst I was at Trie, I never heard
from him, nor did he so much as make inquiry after me, by means of his
relation Mademoiselle Seguier, my neighbor. This lady never seemed
favorably disposed towards me. In a word, the infatuation of M. de St.
Brisson ended suddenly, like the connection of M. de Feins: but this man
owed me nothing, and the former was under obligations to me, unless the
follies I prevented him from committing were nothing more than
affectation; which might very possibly be the case.

I had visits from Geneva also. The Delucs, father and son, successively
chose me for their attendant in sickness. The father was taken ill on
the road, the son was already sick when he left Geneva; they both came to
my house. Ministers, relations, hypocrites, and persons of every
description came from Geneva and Switzerland, not like those from France,
to laugh at and admire me, but to rebuke and catechise me. The only
person amongst them, who gave me pleasure, was Moultou, who passed with
me three or four days, and whom I wished to remain much longer; the most
persevering of all, the most obstinate, and who conquered me by
importunity, was a M. d'Ivernois, a merchant at Geneva, a French refugee,
and related to the attorney-general of Neuchatel. This man came from
Geneva to Motiers twice a year, on purpose to see me, remained with me
several days together from morning to night, accompanied me in my walks,
brought me a thousand little presents, insinuated himself in spite of me
into my confidence, and intermeddled in all my affairs, notwithstanding
there was not between him and myself the least similarity of ideas,
inclination, sentiment, or knowledge. I do not believe he ever read a
book of any kind throughout, or that he knows upon what subject mine are
written. When I began to herbalize, he followed me in my botanical
rambles, without taste for that amusement, or having anything to say to
me or I to him. He had the patience to pass with me three days in a
public house at Goumoins, whence, by wearying him and making him feel how
much he wearied me, I was in hopes of driving him away. I could not,
however, shake his incredible perseverance, nor by any means discover the
motive of it.

Amongst these connections, made and continued by force, I must not omit
the only one that was agreeable to me, and in which my heart was really
interested: this was that I had with a young Hungarian who came to live
at Neuchatel, and from that place to Motiers, a few months after I had
taken up my residence there. He was called by the people of the country
the Baron de Sauttern, by which name he had been recommended from Zurich.
He was tall, well made, had an agreeable countenance, and mild and social
qualities. He told everybody, and gave me also to understand that he
came to Neuchatel for no other purpose, than that of forming his youth to
virtue, by his intercourse with me. His physiognomy, manner, and
behavior, seemed well suited to his conversation, and I should have
thought I failed in one of the greatest duties had I turned my back upon
a young man in whom I perceived nothing but what was amiable, and who
sought my acquaintance from so respectable a motive. My heart knows not
how to connect itself by halves. He soon acquired my friendship, and all
my confidence, and we were presently inseparable. He accompanied me in
all my walks, and become fond of them. I took him to the marechal, who
received him with the utmost kindness. As he was yet unable to explain
himself in French, he spoke and wrote to me in Latin, I answered in
French, and this mingling of the two languages did not make our
conversations either less smooth or lively. He spoke of his family, his
affairs, his adventures, and of the court of Vienna, with the domestic
details of which he seemed well acquainted. In fine, during two years
which we passed in the greatest intimacy, I found in him a mildness of
character proof against everything, manners not only polite but elegant,
great neatness of person, an extreme decency in his conversation, in a
word, all the marks of a man born and educated a gentleman, and which
rendered him in my eyes too estimable not to make him dear to me.

At the time we were upon the most intimate and friendly terms,
D' Ivernois wrote to me from Geneva, putting me upon my guard against the
young Hungarian who had taken up his residence in my neighborhood;
telling me he was a spy whom the minister of France had appointed to
watch my proceedings. This information was of a nature to alarm me the
more, as everybody advised me to guard against the machinations of
persons who were employed to keep an eye upon my actions, and to entice
me into France for the purpose of betraying me. To shut the mouths, once
for all, of these foolish advisers, I proposed to Sauttern, without
giving him the least intimation of the information I had received,
a journey on foot to Pontarlier, to which he consented. As soon as we
arrived there I put the letter from D'Ivernois into his hands, and after
giving him an ardent embrace, I said: "Sauttern has no need of a proof of
my confidence in him, but it is necessary I should prove to the public
that I know in whom to place it." This embrace was accompanied with a
pleasure which persecutors can neither feel themselves, nor take away
from the oppressed.

I will never believe Sauttern was a spy, nor that he betrayed me: but I
was deceived by him. When I opened to him my heart without reserve, he
constantly kept his own shut, and abused me by lies. He invented I know
not what kind of story, to prove to me his presence was necessary in his
own country. I exhorted him to return to it as soon as possible. He
setoff, and when I thought he was in Hungary, I learned he was at
Strasbourgh. This was not the first time he had been there. He had
caused some disorder in a family in that city; and the husband knowing I
received him in my house, wrote to me. I used every effort to bring the
young woman back to the paths of virtue, and Sauttern to his duty.

When I thought they were perfectly detached from each other, they renewed
their acquaintance, and the husband had the complaisance to receive the
young man at his house; from that moment I had nothing more to say.
I found the pretended baron had imposed upon me by a great number of
lies. His name was not Sauttern, but Sauttersheim. With respect to the
title of baron, given him in Switzerland, I could not reproach him with
the impropriety, because he had never taken it; but I have not a doubt of
his being a gentleman, and the marshal, who knew mankind, and had been in
Hungary, always considered and treated him as such.

He had no sooner left my neighborhood, than the girl at the inn where he
eat, at Motiers, declared herself with child by him. She was so dirty a
creature, and Sauttern, generally esteemed in the country for his conduct
and purity of morals, piqued himself so much upon cleanliness, that
everybody was shocked at this impudent pretension. The most amiable
women of the country, who had vainly displayed to him their charms, were
furious: I myself was almost choked with indignation. I used every
effort to get the tongue of this impudent woman stopped, offering to pay
all expenses, and to give security for Sauttersheim. I wrote to him in
the fullest persuasion, not only that this pregnancy could not relate to
him, but that it was feigned, and the whole a machination of his enemies
and mine. I wished him to return and confound the strumpet, and those by
whom she was dictated to. The pusillanimity of his answer surprised me.
He wrote to the master of the parish to which the creature belonged, and
endeavored to stifle the matter. Perceiving this, I concerned myself no
more about it, but I was astonished that a man who could stoop so low
should have been sufficiently master of himself to deceive me by his
reserve in the closest familiarity.

From Strasbourgh, Sauttersheim went to seek his fortune in Paris, and
found there nothing but misery. He wrote to me acknowledging his error.
My compassion was excited by the recollection of our former friendship,
and I sent him a sum of money. The year following, as I passed through
Paris, I saw him much in the same situation; but he was the intimate
friend of M. de Laliand, and I could not learn by what means he had
formed this acquaintance, or whether it was recent or of long standing.
Two years afterwards Sauttersheim returned to Strasbourgh, whence he
wrote to me and where he died. This, in a few words, is the history of
our connection, and what I know of his adventures; but while I mourn the
fate of the unhappy young man, I still, and ever shall, believe he was
the son of people of distinction, and the impropriety of his conduct was
the effect of the situations to which he was reduced.

Such were the connections and acquaintance I acquired at Motiers. How
many of these would have been necessary to compensate the cruel losses I
suffered at the same time.

The first of these was that of M. de Luxembourg, who, after having been
long tormented by the physicians, at length became their victim, by being
treated for the gout which they would not acknowledge him to have, as for
a disorder they thought they could cure.

According to what La Roche, the confidential servant of Madam de
Luxembourg, wrote to me relative to what had happened, it is by this
cruel and memorable example that the miseries of greatness are to be
deplored.

The loss of this good nobleman afflicted me the more, as he was the only
real friend I had in France, and the mildness of his character was such
as to make me quite forget his rank, and attach myself to him as his
equal. Our connection was not broken off on account of my having quitted
the kingdom; he continued to write to me as usual.

I nevertheless thought I perceived that absence, or my misfortune, had
cooled his affection for me. It is difficult to a courtier to preserve
the same attachment to a person whom he knows to be in disgrace with
courts. I moreover suspected the great ascendancy Madam de Luxembourg
had over his mind, had been unfavorable to me, and that she had taken
advantage of our separation to injure me in his esteem. For her part,
notwithstanding a few affected marks of regard, which daily became less
frequent, she less concealed the change in her friendship. She wrote to
me four or five times into Switzerland, after which she never wrote to me
again, and nothing but my prejudice, confidence and blindness, could have
prevented my discovering in her something more than a coolness towards
me.

Guy the bookseller, partner with Duchesne, who, after I had left
Montmorency, frequently went to the hotel de Luxembourg, wrote to me that
my name was in the will of the marechal. There was nothing in this
either incredible or extraordinary, on which account I had no doubt of
the truth of the information. I deliberated within myself whether or not
I should receive the legacy. Everything well considered, I determined to
accept it, whatever it might be, and to do that honor to the memory of an
honest man, who, in a rank in which friendship is seldom found, had had a
real one for me. I had not this duty to fulfill. I heard no more of the
legacy, whether it were true or false; and in truth I should have felt
some pain in offending against one of the great maxims of my system of
morality, in profiting by anything at the death of a person whom I had
once held dear. During the last illness of our friend Mussard, Leneips
proposed to me to take advantage of the grateful sense he expressed for
our cares, to insinuate to him dispositions in our favor. "Ah! my dear
Leneips," said I, "let us not pollute by interested ideas the sad but
sacred duties we discharge towards our dying friend. I hope my name will
never be found in the testament of any person, at least not in that of a
friend." It was about this time that my lord marshal spoke to me of his,
of what he intended to do in it for me, and that I made him the answer of
which I have spoken in the first part of my memoirs.

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