THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU(In 12 books)

Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society

London, 1903

BOOK XII. 

With this book begins the work of darkness, in which I have for the lasteight years been enveloped, though it has not by any means been possiblefor me to penetrate the dreadful obscurity. In the abyss of evil intowhich I am plunged, I feel the blows reach me, without perceiving thehand by which they are directed or the means it employs. Shame andmisfortune seem of themselves to fall upon me. When in the affliction ofmy heart I suffer a groan to escape me, I have the appearance of a manwho complains without reason, and the authors of my ruin have theinconceivable art of rendering the public unknown to itself, or withoutits perceiving the effects of it, accomplice in their conspiracy. Therefore, in my narrative of circumstances relative to myself, of thetreatment I have received, and all that has happened to me, I shall notbe able to indicate the hand by which the whole has been directed, norassign the causes, while I state the effect. The primitive causes areall given in the preceding books; and everything in which I aminterested, and all the secret motives pointed out. But it is impossiblefor me to explain, even by conjecture, that in which the different causesare combined to operate the strange events of my life. If amongst myreaders one even of them should be generous enough to wish to examine themystery to the bottom, and discover the truth, let him carefully readover a second time the three preceding books, afterwards at each fact heshall find stated in the books which follow, let him gain suchinformation as is within his reach, and go back from intrigue tointrigue, and from agent to agent, until he comes to the first mover ofall. I know where his researches will terminate; but in the meantime Ilose myself in the crooked and obscure subterraneous path through whichhis steps must be directed. 

During my stay at Yverdon, I became acquainted with all the family of myfriend Roguin, and amongst others with his niece, Madam Boy de la Tour, and her daughters, whose father, as I think I have already observed, I formerly knew at Lyons. She was at Yverdon, upon a visit to her uncleand his sister; her eldest daughter, about fifteen years of age, delighted me by her fine understanding and excellent disposition. I conceived the most tender friendship for the mother and the daughter. The latter was destined by M. Rougin to the colonel, his nephew, a manalready verging towards the decline of life, and who showed me marks ofgreat esteem and affection; but although the heart of the uncle was setupon this marriage, which was much wished for by the nephew also, and Iwas greatly desirous to promote the satisfaction of both, the greatdisproportion of age, and the extreme repugnancy of the young lady, mademe join with the mother in postponing the ceremony, and the affair was atlength broken off. The colonel has since married Mademoiselle Dillan, his relation, beautiful, and amiable as my heart could wish, and who hasmade him the happiest of husbands and fathers. However, M. Rougin hasnot yet forgotten my opposition to his wishes. My consolation is in thecertainty of having discharged to him, and his family, the duty of themost pure friendship, which does not always consist in being agreeable, but in advising for the best. 

I did not remain long in doubt about the reception which awaited me atGeneva, had I chosen to return to that city. My book was burned there, and on the 18th of June, nine days after an order to arrest me had beengiven at Paris, another to the same effect was determined upon by therepublic. So many incredible absurdities were stated in this seconddecree, in which the ecclesiastical edict was formally violated, that Irefused to believe the first accounts I heard of it, and when these werewell confirmed, I trembled lest so manifest an infraction of every law, beginning with that of common-sense, should create the greatest confusionin the city. I was, however, relieved from my fears; everything remainedquiet. If there was any rumor amongst the populace, it was unfavorableto me, and I was publicly treated by all the gossips and pedants like ascholar threatened with a flogging for not having said his catechism. 

These two decrees were the signal for the cry of malediction, raisedagainst me with unexampled fury in every part of Europe. All thegazettes, journals and pamphlets, rang the alarm-bell. The Frenchespecially, that mild, generous, and polished people, who so much piquethemselves upon their attention and proper condescension to theunfortunate, instantly forgetting their favorite virtues, signalizedthemselves by the number and violence of the outrages with which, whileeach seemed to strive who should afflict me most, they overwhelmed me. I was impious, an atheist, a madman, a wild beast, a wolf. Thecontinuator of the Journal of Trevoux was guilty of a piece ofextravagance in attacking my pretended Lycanthropy, which was by no meansproof of his own. A stranger would have thought an author in Paris wasafraid of incurring the animadversion of the police, by publishing a workof any kind without cramming into it some insult to me. I sought in vainthe cause of this unanimous animosity, and was almost tempted to believethe world was gone mad. What! said I to myself, the editor of the'Perpetual Peace', spread discord; the author of the 'Confession of theSavoyard Vicar', impious; the writer of the 'New Eloisa', a wolf; theauthor of 'Emilius', a madman! Gracious God! what then should I havebeen had I published the 'Treatise de l'Esprit', or any similar work?And yet, in the storm raised against the author of that book, the public, far from joining the cry of his persecutors, revenged him of them byeulogium. Let his book and mine, the receptions the two works met with, and the treatment of the two authors in the different countries ofEurope, be compared; and for the difference let causes satisfactory to, a man of sense be found, and I will ask no more. 

I found the residence of Yverdon so agreeable that I resolved to yield tothe solicitations of M. Roguin and his family, who, were desirous ofkeeping me there. M. De Moiry de Gingins, bailiff of that city, encouraged me by his goodness to remain within his jurisdiction. Thecolonel pressed me so much to accept for my habitation a little pavilionhe had in his house between the court and the garden, that I compliedwith his request, and he immediately furnished it with everythingnecessary for my little household establishment. 

The banneret Roguin, one of the persons who showed me the most assiduousattention, did not leave me for an instant during the whole day. I wasmuch flattered by his civilities, but they sometimes importuned me. Theday on which I was to take possession of my new habitation was alreadyfixed, and I had written to Theresa to come to me, when suddenly a stormwas raised against me in Berne, which was attributed to the devotees, butI have never been able to learn the cause of it. The senate, excitedagainst me, without my knowing by whom, did not seem disposed to sufferme to remain undisturbed in my retreat. The moment the bailiff wasinformed of the new fermentation, he wrote in my favor to several of themembers of the government, reproaching them with their blind intolerance, and telling them it was shameful to refuse to a man of merit, underoppression, the asylum which such a numerous banditti found in theirstates. Sensible people were of opinion the warmth of his reproaches hadrather embittered than softened the minds of the magistrates. Howeverthis may be, neither his influence nor eloquence could ward off the blow. Having received an intimation of the order he was to signify to me, hegave me a previous communication of it; and that I might wait itsarrival, I resolved to set off the next day. The difficulty was to knowwhere to go, finding myself shut out from Geneva and all France, andforeseeing that in the affair each state would be anxious to imitate itsneighbor. 

Madam Boy de la Tour proposed to me to go and reside in an uninhabitedbut completely furnished house, which belonged to her son in the villageof Motiers, in the Val de Travers, in the county of Neuchatel. I hadonly a mountain to cross to arrive at it. The offer came the moreopportunely, as in the states of the King of Prussia I should naturallybe sheltered from all persecution, at least religion could not serve as apretext for it. But a secret difficulty: improper for me at that momentto divulge, had in it that which was very sufficient to make me hesitate. The innnate love of justice, to which my heart was constantly subject, added to my secret inclination to France, had inspired me with anaversion to the King of Prussia, who by his maxims and conduct, seemed totread under foot all respect for natural law and every duty of humanity. Amongst the framed engravings, with which I had decorated my alcove atMontmorency, was a portrait of this prince, and under it a distich, thelast line of which was as follows:

 Il pense en philosophe, et se conduit en roi. 

 [He thinks like a philosopher, and acts like a king. ]

This verse, which from any other pen would have been a fine eulogium, from mine had an unequivocal meaning, and too clearly explained the verseby which it was preceded. The distich had been, read by everybody whocame to see me, and my visitors were numerous. The Chevalier de Lorenzyhad even written it down to give it to D'Alembert, and I had no doubtbut D' Alembert had taken care to make my court with it to the prince. I had also aggravated this first fault by a passage in 'Emilius', whereunder the name of Adrastus, king of the Daunians, it was clearly seenwhom I had in view, and the remark had not escaped critics, because Madamde Boufflers had several times mentioned the subject to me. I was, therefore, certain of being inscribed in red ink in the registers of theKing of Prussia, and besides, supposing his majesty to have theprinciples I had dared to attribute to him, he, for that reason, couldnot but be displeased with my writings and their author; for everybodyknows the worthless part of mankind, and tyrants have never failed toconceive the most mortal hatred against me, solely on reading my works, without being acquainted with my person. 

However, I had presumption enough to depend upon his mercy, and was farfrom thinking I ran much risk. I knew none but weak men were slaves tothe base passions, and that these had but little power over strong minds, such as I had always thought his to be. According to his art ofreigning, I thought he could not but show himself magnanimous on thisoccasion, and that being so in fact was not above his character. Ithought a mean and easy vengeance would not for a moment counterbalancehis love of glory, and putting myself in his place, his taking advantageof circumstances to overwhelm with the weight of his generosity a man whohad dared to think ill of him, did not appear to me impossible. I therefore went to settle at Motiers, with a confidence of which Iimagined he would feel all the value, and said to myself: When JeanJacques rises to the elevation of Coriolanus, will Frederick sink belowthe General of the Volsci?

Colonel Roguin insisted on crossing the mountain with me, and installingme at Moiters. A sister-in-law to Madam Boy de la Tour, named MadamGirardier, to whom the house in which I was going to live was veryconvenient, did not see me arrive there with pleasure; however, she witha good grace put me in possession of my lodgings, and I eat with heruntil Theresa came, and my little establishment was formed. 

Perceiving at my departure from Montmorency I should in future be afugitive upon the earth, I hesitated about permitting her to come to meand partake of the wandering life to which I saw myself condemned. Ifelt the nature of our relation to each other was about to change, andthat what until then had on my part been favor and friendship, would infuture become so on hers. If her attachment was proof against mymisfortunes, to this I knew she must become a victim, and that her griefwould add to my pain. Should my disgrace weaken her affections, shewould make me consider her constancy as a sacrifice, and instead offeeling the pleasure I had in dividing with her my last morsel of bread, she would see nothing but her own merit in following me wherever I wasdriven by fate. 

I must say everything; I have never concealed the vices either of my poormamma or myself; I cannot be more favorable to Theresa, and whateverpleasure I may have in doing honor to a person who is dear to me, I willnot disguise the truth, although it may discover in her an error, if aninvoluntary change of the affections of the heart be one. I had longperceived hers to grow cooler towards me, and that she was no longer forme what she had been in our younger days. Of this I was the moresensible, as for her I was what I had always been. I fell into the sameinconvenience as that of which I had felt the effect with mamma, and thiseffect was the same now I was with Theresa. Let us not seek forperfection, which nature never produces; it would be the same thing withany other woman. The manner in which I had disposed of my children, however reasonable it had appeared to me, had not always left my heart atease. While writing my 'Treatise on Education', I felt I had neglectedduties with which it was not possible to dispense. Remorse at lengthbecame so strong that it almost forced from me a public confession of myfault at the beginning of my 'Emilius', and the passage is so clear, thatit is astonishing any person should, after reading it, have had thecourage to reproach me with my error. My situation was however still thesame, or something worse, by the animosity of my enemies, who sought tofind me in a fault. I feared a relapse, and unwilling to run the risk, I preferred abstinence to exposing Theresa to a similar mortification. I had besides remarked that a connection with women was prejudicial to myhealth; this double reason made me form resolutions to which I had butsometimes badly kept, but for the last three or four years I had moreconstantly adhered to them. It was in this interval I had remarkedTheresa's coolness; she had the same attachment to me from duty, but notthe least from love. Our intercourse naturally became less agreeable, and I imagined that, certain of the continuation of my cares wherever shemight be, she would choose to stay at Paris rather than to wander withme. Yet she had given such signs of grief at our parting, had requiredof me such positive promises that we should meet again, and, since mydeparture, had expressed to the Prince de Conti and M. De Luxembourg sostrong a desire of it, that, far from having the courage to speak to herof separation, I scarcely had enough to think of it myself; and afterhaving felt in my heart how impossible it was for me to do without her, all I thought of afterwards was to recall her to me as soon as possible. I wrote to her to this effect, and she came. It was scarcely two monthssince I had quitted her; but it was our first separation after a union ofso many years. We had both of us felt it most cruelly. What emotion inour first embrace! O how delightful are the tears of tenderness and joy!How does my heart drink them up! Why have I not had reason to shed themmore frequently?

On my arrival at Motiers I had written to Lord Keith, marshal of Scotlandand governor of Neuchatel, informing him of my retreat into the states ofhis Prussian majesty, and requesting of him his protection. He answeredme with his well-known generosity, and in the manner I had expected fromhim. He invited me to his house. I went with M. Martinet, lord of themanor of Val de Travers, who was in great favor with his excellency. The venerable appearance of this illustrious and virtuous Scotchman, powerfully affected my heart, and from that instant began between him andme the strong attachment, which on my part still remains the same, andwould be so on his, had not the traitors, who have deprived me of all theconsolation of life, taken advantage of my absence to deceive his old ageand depreciate me in his esteem. 

George Keith, hereditary marshal of Scotland, and brother to the famousGeneral Keith, who lived gloriously and died in the bed of honor, hadquitted his country at a very early age, and was proscribed on account ofhis attachment to the house of Stuart. With that house, however, he soonbecame disgusted with the unjust and tyrannical spirit he remarked in theruling character of the Stuart family. He lived a long time in Spain, the climate of which pleased him exceedingly, and at length attachedhimself, as his brother had done, to the service of the King of Prussia, who knew men and gave them the reception they merited. His majestyreceived a great return for this reception, in the services rendered himby Marshal Keith, and by what was infinitely more precious, the sincerefriendship of his lordship. The great mind of this worthy man, haughtyand republican, could stoop to no other yoke than that of friendship, butto this it was so obedient, that with very different maxims he sawnothing but Frederic the moment he became attached to him. The kingcharged the marshal with affairs of importance, sent him to Paris, toSpain, and at length, seeing he was already advanced in years, let himretire with the government of Neuchatel, and the delightful employment ofpassing there the remainder of his life in rendering the inhabitantshappy. 

The people of Neuchatel, whose manners are trivial, know not how todistinguish solid merit, and suppose wit to consist in long discourses. When they saw a sedate man of simple manners appear amongst them, theymistook his simplicity for haughtiness, his candor for rusticity, hislaconism for stupidity, and rejected his benevolent cares, because, wishing to be useful, and not being a sycophant, he knew not how toflatter people he did not esteem. In the ridiculous affair of theminister Petitpierre, who was displaced by his colleagues, for havingbeen unwilling they should be eternally damned, my lord, opposing theusurpations of the ministers, saw the whole country of which he took thepart, rise up against him, and when I arrived there the stupid murmur hadnot entirely subsided. He passed for a man influenced by the prejudiceswith which he was inspired by others, and of all the imputations broughtagainst him it was the most devoid of truth. My first sentiment onseeing this venerable old man, was that of tender commiseration, onaccount of his extreme leanness of body, years having already left himlittle else but skin and bone; but when I raised my eyes to his animated, open, noble countenance, I felt a respect, mingled with confidence, whichabsorbed every other sentiment. He answered the very short compliment Imade him when I first came into his presence by speaking of somethingelse, as if I had already been a week in his house. He did not bid ussit down. The stupid chatelain, the lord of the manor, remainedstanding. For my part I at first sight saw in the fine and piercing eyeof his lordship something so conciliating that, feeling myself entirelyat ease, I without ceremony, took my seat by his side upon the sofa. Bythe familiarity of his manner I immediately perceived the liberty I tookgave him pleasure, and that he said to himself: This is not aNeuchatelois. 

Singular effect of the similarity of characters! At an age when theheart loses its natural warmth, that of this good old man grew warm byhis attachment to me to a degree which surprised everybody. He came tosee me at Motiers under the pretence of quail shooting, and stayed theretwo days without touching a gun. We conceived such a friendship for eachother that we knew not how to live separate; the castle of Colombier, where he passed the summer, was six leagues from Motiers; I went there atleast once a fortnight, and made a stay of twenty-four hours, and thenreturned like a pilgrim with my heart full of affection for my host. Theemotion I had formerly experienced in my journeys from the Hermitage toRaubonne was certainly very different, but it was not more pleasing thanthat with which I approached Columbier. 

What tears of tenderness have I shed when on the road to it, whilethinking of the paternal goodness, amiable virtues, and charmingphilosophy of this respectable old man! I called him father, and hecalled me son. These affectionate names give, in some measure, an ideaof the attachment by which we were united, but by no means that of thewant we felt of each other, nor of our continual desire to be together. He would absolutely give me an apartment at the castle of Columbier, andfor a long time pressed me to take up my residence in that in which Ilodged during my visits. I at length told him I was more free and at myease in my own house, and that I had rather continue until the end of mylife to come and see him. He approved of my candor, and never afterwardsspoke to me on the subject. Oh, my good lord! Oh, my worthy father!How is my heart still moved when I think of your goodness? Ah, barbarouswretches! how deeply did they wound me when they deprived me of yourfriendship? But no, great man, you are and ever will be the same for me, who am still the same. You have been deceived, but you are not changed. My lord marechal is not without faults; he is a man of wisdom, but he isstill a man. With the greatest penetration, the nicest discrimination, and the most profound knowledge of men, he sometimes suffers himself tobe deceived, and never recovers his error. His temper is very singularand foreign to his general turn of mind. He seems to forget the peoplehe sees every day, and thinks of them in a moment when they least expectit; his attention seems ill-timed; his presents are dictated by capriceand not by propriety. He gives or sends in an instant whatever comesinto his head, be the value of it ever so small. A young Genevese, desirous of entering into the service of Prussia, made a personalapplication to him; his lordship, instead of giving him a letter, gavehim a little bag of peas, which he desired him to carry to the king. Onreceiving this singular recommendation his majesty gave a commission tothe bearer of it. These elevated geniuses have between themselves alanguage which the vulgar will never understand. The whimsical manner ofmy lord marechal, something like the caprice of a fine woman, renderedhim still more interesting to me. I was certain, and afterwards hadproofs, that it had not the least influence over his sentiments, nor didit affect the cares prescribed by friendship on serious occasions, yet inhis manner of obliging there is the same singularity as in his manners ingeneral. Of this I will give one instance relative to a matter of nogreat importance. The journey from Motiers to Colombier being too longfor me to perform in one day, I commonly divided it by setting off afterdinner and sleeping at Brot, which is half way. The landlord of thehouse where I stopped, named Sandoz, having to solicit at Berlin a favorof importance to him, begged I would request his excellency to ask it inhis behalf. "Most willingly, " said I, and took him with me. I left himin the antechamber, and mentioned the matter to his lordship, whoreturned me no answer. After passing with him the whole morning, I sawas I crossed the hall to go to dinner, poor Sandoz, who was fatigued todeath with waiting. Thinking the governor had forgotten what I had saidto him, I again spoke of the business before we sat down to table, butstill received no answer. I thought this manner of making me feel I wasimportunate rather severe, and, pitying the poor man in waiting, held mytongue. On my return the next day I was much surprised at the thanks hereturned me for the good dinner his excellency had given him afterreceiving his paper. Three weeks afterwards his lordship sent him therescript he had solicited, dispatched by the minister, and signed by theking, and this without having said a word either to myself or Sandozconcerning the business, about which I thought he did not wish to givehimself the least concern. 

I could wish incessantly to speak of George Keith; from him proceeds myrecollection of the last happy moments I have enjoyed: the rest of mylife, since our separation, has been passed in affliction and grief ofheart. The remembrance of this is so melancholy and confused that it wasimpossible for me to observe the least order in what I write, so that infuture I shall be under the necessity of stating facts without givingthem a regular arrangement. 

I was soon relieved from my inquietude arising from the uncertainty of myasylum, by the answer from his majesty to the lord marshal, in whom, asit will readily be believed, I had found an able advocate. The king notonly approved of what he had done, but desired him, for I must relateeverything, to give me twelve louis. The good old man, ratherembarrassed by the commission, and not knowing how to execute itproperly, endeavored to soften the insult by transforming the money intoprovisions, and writing to me that he had received orders to furnish mewith wood and coal to begin my little establishment; he moreover added, and perhaps from himself, that his majesty would willingly build me alittle house, such a one as I should choose to have, provided I would fixupon the ground. I was extremely sensible of the kindness of the lastoffer, which made me forget the weakness of the other. Without acceptingeither, I considered Frederic as my benefactor and protector, and becameso sincerely attached to him, that from that moment I interested myselfas much in his glory as until then I had thought his successes unjust. At the peace he made soon after, I expressed my joy by an illumination ina very good taste: it was a string of garlands, with which I decoratedthe house I inhabited, and in which, it is true, I had the vindictivehaughtiness to spend almost as much money as he had wished to give me. The peace ratified, I thought as he was at the highest pinnacle ofmilitary and political fame, he would think of acquiring that of anothernature, by reanimating his states, encouraging in them commerce andagriculture, creating a new soil, covering it with a new people, maintaining peace amongst his neighbors, and becoming the arbitrator, after having been the terror, of Europe. He was in a situation to sheathhis sword without danger, certain that no sovereign would oblige himagain to draw it. Perceiving he did not disarm, I was afraid he wouldprofit but little by the advantages he had gained, and that he would begreat only by halves. I dared to write to him upon the subject, and witha familiarity of a nature to please men of his character, conveying tohim the sacred voice of truth, which but few kings are worthy to hear. The liberty I took was a secret between him and myself. I did notcommunicate it even to the lord marshal, to whom I sent my letter to theking sealed up. His lordship forwarded my dispatch without asking whatit contained. His majesty returned me no answer and the marshal goingsoon after to Berlin, the king told him he had received from me ascolding. By this I understood my letter had been ill received, and thefrankness of my zeal had been mistaken for the rusticity of a pedant. In fact, this might possibly be the case; perhaps I did not say what wasnecessary, nor in the manner proper to the occasion. All I can answerfor is the sentiment which induced me to take up the pen. 

Shortly after my establishment at Motiers, Travers having every possibleassurance that I should be suffered to remain there in peace, I took theArmenian habit. This was not the first time I had thought of doing it. I had formerly had the same intention, particularly at Montmorency, wherethe frequent use of probes often obliging me to keep my chamber, made memore clearly perceive the advantages of a long robe. The convenience ofan Armenian tailor, who frequently came to see a relation he had atMontmorency, almost tempted me to determine on taking this new dress, troubling myself but little about what the world would say of it. Yet, before I concluded about the matter, I wished to take the opinion ofM. De Luxembourg, who immediately advised me to follow my inclination. I therefore procured a little Armenian wardrobe, but on account of thestorm raised against me, I was induced to postpone making use of it untilI should enjoy tranquillity, and it was not until some months afterwardsthat, forced by new attacks of my disorder, I thought I could properly, and without the least risk, put on my new dress at Motiers, especiallyafter having consulted the pastor of the place, who told me I might wearit even in the temple without indecency. I then adopted the waistcoat, caffetan, fur bonnet, and girdle; and after having in this dress attendeddivine service, I saw no impropriety in going in it to visit hislordship. His excellency in seeing me clothed in this manner made me noother compliment than that which consisted in saying "Salaam aliakum, "i. E. , "Peace be with you;" the common Turkish salutation; after whichnothing more was said upon the subject, and I continued to wear my newdress. 

Having quite abandoned literature, all I now thought of was leading aquiet life, and one as agreeable as I could make it. When alone, I havenever felt weariness of mind, not even in complete inaction; myimagination filling up every void, was sufficient to keep up myattention. The inactive babbling of a private circle, where, seatedopposite to each other, they who speak move nothing but the tongue, isthe only thing I have ever been unable to support. When walking andrambling about there is some satisfaction in conversation; the feet andeyes do something; but to hear people with their arms across speak of theweather, of the biting of flies, or what is still worse, compliment eachother, is to me an insupportable torment. That I might not live like asavage, I took it into my head to learn to make laces. Like the women, I carried my cushion with me, when I went to make visits, or sat down towork at my door, and chatted with passers-by. This made me the bettersupport the emptiness of babbling, and enabled me to pass my time with myfemale neighbors without weariness. Several of these were very amiableand not devoid of wit. One in particular, Isabella d'Ivernois, daughterof the attorney-general of Neuchatel, I found so estimable as to induceme to enter with her into terms of particular friendship, from which shederived some advantage by the useful advice I gave her, and the servicesshe received from me on occasions of importance, so that now a worthy andvirtuous mother of a family, she is perhaps indebted to me for herreason, her husband, her life, and happiness. On my part, I receivedfrom her gentle consolation, particularly during a melancholy winter, through out the whole of which when my sufferings were most cruel, shecame to pass with Theresa and me long evenings, which she made very shortfor us by her agreeable conversation, and our mutual openness of heart. She called me papa, and I called her daughter, and these names, which westill give to each other, will, I hope, continue to be as dear to her asthey are to me. That my laces might be of some utility, I gave them tomy young female friends at their marriages, upon condition of theirsuckling their children; Isabella's eldest sister had one upon theseterms, and well deserved it by her observance of them; Isabella herselfalso received another, which, by intention she as fully merited. She hasnot been happy enough to be able to pursue her inclination. When I sentthe laces to the two sisters, I wrote each of them a letter; the firsthas been shown about in the world; the second has not the same celebrity:friendship proceeds with less noise. 

Amongst the connections I made in my neighborhood, of which I will notenter into a detail, I must mention that with Colonel Pury, who had ahouse upon the mountain, where he came to pass the summer. I was notanxious to become acquainted with him, because I knew he was upon badterms at court, and with the lord marshal, whom he did not visit. Yet, as he came to see me, and showed me much attention, I was under thenecessity of returning his visit; this was repeated, and we sometimesdined with each other. At his house I became acquainted with M. DuPerou, and afterwards too intimately connected with him to pass his nameover in silence. 

M. Du Perou was an American, son to a commandant of Surinam, whosesuccessor, M. Le Chambrier, of Neuchatel, married his widow. Left awidow a second time, she came with her son to live in the country of hersecond husband. 

Du Perou, an only son, very rich, and tenderly beloved by his mother, hadbeen carefully brought up, and his education was not lost upon him. Hehad acquired much knowledge, a taste for the arts, and piqued himselfupon his having cultivated his rational faculty: his Dutch appearance, yellow complexion, and silent and close disposition, favored thisopinion. Although young, he was already deaf and gouty. This renderedhis motions deliberate and very grave, and although he was fond ofdisputing, he in general spoke but little because his hearing was bad. I was struck with his exterior, and said to myself, this is a thinker, aman of wisdom, such a one as anybody would be happy to have for a friend. He frequently addressed himself to me without paying the leastcompliment, and this strengthened the favorable opinion I had alreadyformed of him. He said but little to me of myself or my books, and stillless of himself; he was not destitute of ideas, and what he said wasjust. This justness and equality attracted my regard. He had neitherthe elevation of mind, nor the discrimination of the lord marshal, but hehad all his simplicity: this was still representing him in something. Idid not become infatuated with him, but he acquired my attachment fromesteem; and by degrees this esteem led to friendship, and I totallyforgot the objection I made to the Baron Holbach: that he was too rich. 

For a long time I saw but little of Du Perou, because I did not go toNeuchatel, and he came but once a year to the mountain of Colonel Pury. Why did I not go to Neuchatel? This proceeded from a childishness uponwhich I must not be silent. 

Although protected by the King of Prussia and the lord marshal, while Iavoided persecution in my asylum, I did not avoid the murmurs of thepublic, of municipal magistrates and ministers. After what had happenedin France it became fashionable to insult me; these people would havebeen afraid to seem to disapprove of what my persecutors had done by notimitating them. The 'classe' of Neuchatel, that is, the ministers ofthat city, gave the impulse, by endeavoring to move the council of stateagainst me. This attempt not having succeeded, the ministers addressedthemselves to the municipal magistrate, who immediately prohibited mybook, treating me on all occasions with but little civility, and saying, that had I wished to reside in the city I should not have been sufferedto do it. They filled their Mercury with absurdities and the most stupidhypocrisy, which, although, it makes every man of sense laugh, animatedthe people against me. This, however, did not prevent them from settingforth that I ought to be very grateful for their permitting me to live atMotiers, where they had no authority; they would willingly have measuredme the air by the pint, provided I had paid for it a dear price. Theywould have it that I was obliged to them for the protection the kinggranted me in spite of the efforts they incessantly made to deprive me ofit. Finally, failing of success, after having done me all the injurythey could, and defamed me to the utmost of their power, they made amerit of their impotence, by boasting of their goodness in suffering meto stay in their country. I ought to have laughed at their vain efforts, but I was foolish enough to be vexed at them, and had the weakness to beunwilling to go to Neuchatel, to which I yielded for almost two years, as if it was not doing too much honor to such wretches, to pay attentionto their proceedings, which, good or bad, could not be imputed to them, because they never act but from a foreign impulse. Besides, mindswithout sense or knowledge, whose objects of esteem are influence, powerand money, and far from imagining even that some respect is due totalents, and that it is dishonorable to injure and insult them. 

A certain mayor of a village, who from sundry malversations had beendeprived of his office, said to the lieutenant of Val de Travers, thehusband of Isabella: "I am told this Rousseau has great wit, --bring himto me that I may see whether he has or not. " The disapprobation of sucha man ought certainly to have no effect upon those on whom it falls. 

After the treatment I had received at Paris, Geneva, Berne, and even atNeuchatel, I expected no favor from the pastor of this place. I had, however, been recommended to him by Madam Boy de la Tour, and he hadgiven me a good reception; but in that country where every new-comer isindiscriminately flattered, civilities signify but little. Yet, after mysolemn union with the reformed church, and living in a Protestantcountry, I could not, without failing in my engagements, as well as inthe duty of a citizen, neglect the public profession of the religion intowhich I had entered; I therefore attended divine service. On the otherhand, had I gone to the holy table, I was afraid of exposing myself to arefusal, and it was by no means probable, that after the tumult excitedat Geneva by the council, and at Neuchatel by the classe (the ministers), he would, without difficulty administer to me the sacrament in hischurch. The time of communion approaching, I wrote to M. De Montmollin, the minister, to prove to him my desire of communicating, and declaringmyself heartily united to the Protestant church; I also told him, inorder to avoid disputing upon articles of faith, that I would not hearkento any particular explanation of the point of doctrine. After takingthese steps I made myself easy, not doubting but M. De Montmollin wouldrefuse to admit me without the preliminary discussion to which I refusedto consent, and that in this manner everything would be at an end withoutany fault of mine. I was deceived: when I least expected anything of thekind, M. De Montmollin came to declare to me not only that he admitted meto the communion under the condition which I had proposed, but that heand the elders thought themselves much honored by my being one of theirflock. I never in my whole life felt greater surprise or received fromit more consolation. Living always alone and unconnected, appeared to mea melancholy destiny, especially in adversity. In the midst of so manyproscriptions and persecutions, I found it extremely agreeable to be ableto say to myself: I am at least amongst my brethren; and I went to thecommunion with an emotion of heart, and my eyes suffused with tears oftenderness, which perhaps were the most agreeable preparation to Him towhose table I was drawing near. 

Sometime afterwards his lordship sent me a letter from Madam deBoufflers, which he had received, at least I presumed so, by means ofD'Alembert, who was acquainted with the marechal. In this letter, thefirst this lady had written to me after my departure from Montmorency, she rebuked me severely for having written to M. De Montmollin, andespecially for having communicated. I the less understood what she meantby her reproof, as after my journey to Geneva, I had constantly declaredmyself a Protestant, and had gone publicly to the Hotel de Hollandewithout incurring the least censure from anybody. It appeared to mediverting enough, that Madam de Boufflers should wish to direct myconscience in matters of religion. However, as I had no doubt of thepurity of her intention, I was not offended by this singular sally, and Ianswered her without anger, stating to her my reasons. 

Calumnies in print were still industriously circulated, and their benignauthors reproached the different powers with treating me too mildly. For my part, I let them say and write what they pleased, without givingmyself the least concern about the matter. I was told there was acensure from the Sorbonne, but this I could not believe. What could theSorbonne have to do in the matter? Did the doctors wish to know to acertainty that I was not a Catholic? Everybody already knew I was notone. Were they desirous of proving I was not a good Calvinist? Of whatconsequence was this to them? It was taking upon themselves a singularcare, and becoming the substitutes of our ministers. Before I saw thispublication I thought it was distributed in the name of the Sorbonne, byway of mockery: and when I had read it I was convinced this was the case. But when at length there was not a doubt of its authenticity, all I couldbring myself to believe was, that the learned doctors would have beenbetter placed in a madhouse than they were in the college. 

I was more affected by another publication, because it came from a manfor whom I always had an esteem, and whose constancy I admired, though Ipitied his blindness. I mean the mandatory letter against me by thearchbishop of Paris. I thought to return an answer to it was a duty Iowed myself. This I felt I could do without derogating from my dignity;the case was something similar to that of the King of Poland. I hadalways detested brutal disputes, after the manner of Voltaire. I nevercombat but with dignity, and before I deign to defend myself I must becertain that he by whom I am attacked will not dishonor my retort. I hadno doubt but this letter was fabricated by the Jesuits, and although theywere at that time in distress, I discovered in it their old principle ofcrushing the wretched. I was therefore at liberty to follow my ancientmaxim, by honoring the titulary author, and refuting the work which Ithink I did completely. 

I found my residence at Motiers very agreeable, and nothing was wantingto determine me to end my days there, but a certainty of the means ofsubsistence. Living is dear in that neighborhood, and all my oldprojects had been overturned by the dissolution of my householdarrangements at Montmorency, the establishment of others, the sale orsquandering of my furniture, and the expenses incurred since mydeparture. The little capital which remained to me daily diminished. Two or three years were sufficient to consume the remainder without myhaving the means of renewing it, except by again engaging in literarypursuits: a pernicious profession which I had already abandoned. Persuaded that everything which concerned me would change, and that thepublic, recovered from its frenzy, would make my persecutors blush, allmy endeavors tended to prolong my resources until this happy revolutionshould take place, after which I should more at my ease choose a resourcefrom amongst those which might offer themselves. To this effect I tookup my Dictionary of Music, which ten years' labor had so far advanced asto leave nothing wanting to it but the last corrections. My books whichI had lately received, enabled me to finish this work; my papers sent meby the same conveyance, furnished me with the means of beginning mymemoirs to which I was determined to give my whole attention. I began bytranscribing the letters into a book, by which my memory might be guidedin the order of fact and time. I had already selected those I intendedto keep for this purpose, and for ten years the series was notinterrupted. However, in preparing them for copying I found aninterruption at which I was surprised. This was for almost six months, from October, 1756, to March following. I recollected having put into myselection a number of letters from Diderot, De Leyre, Madam d' Epinay, Madam de Chenonceaux, etc. , which filled up the void and were missing. What was become of them? Had any person laid their hands upon my paperswhilst they remained in the Hotel de Luxembourg? This was notconceivable, and I had seen M. De Luxembourg take the key of the chamberin which I had deposited them. Many letters from different ladies, andall those from Diderot, were without date, on which account I had beenunder the necessity of dating them from memory before they could be putin order, and thinking I might have committed errors, I again looked themover for the purpose of seeing whether or not I could find those whichought to fill up the void. This experiment did not succeed. I perceivedthe vacancy to be real, and that the letters had certainly been takenaway. By whom and for what purpose? This was what I could notcomprehend. These letters, written prior to my great quarrels, and atthe time of my first enthusiasm in the composition of 'Eloisa', could notbe interesting to any person. They contained nothing more thancavillings by Diderot, jeerings from De Leyre, assurances of friendshipfrom M. De Chenonceaux, and even Madam d'Epinay, with whom I was thenupon the best of terms. To whom were these letters of consequence? Towhat use were they to be put? It was not until seven years afterwardsthat I suspected the nature of the theft. The deficiency being no longerdoubtful, I looked over my rough drafts to see whether or not it was theonly one. I found several, which on account of the badness of my memory, made me suppose others in the multitude of my papers. Those I remarkedwere that of the 'Morale Sensitive', and the extract of the adventures ofLord Edward. The last, I confess, made me suspect Madam de Luxembourg. La Roche, her valet de chambre, had sent me the papers, and I could thinkof nobody but herself to whom this fragment could be of consequence; butwhat concern could the other give her, any more than the rest of theletters missing, with which, even with evil intentions, nothing to myprejudice could be done, unless they were falsified? As for themarechal, with whose friendship for me, and invariable integrity, I wasperfectly acquainted, I never could suspect him for a moment. The mostreasonable supposition, after long tormenting my mind in endeavoring todiscover the author of the theft, that which imputed it to D'Alembert, who, having thrust himself into the company of Madam de Luxembourg, mighthave found means to turn over these papers, and take from amongst themsuch manuscripts and letters as he might have thought proper, either forthe purpose of endeavoring to embroil me with the writer of them, or toappropriate those he should find useful to his own private purposes. Iimagined that, deceived by the title of Morale Sensitive, he might havesupposed it to be the plan of a real treatise upon materialism, withwhich he would have armed himself against me in a manner easy to beimagined. Certain that he would soon be undeceived by reading the sketchand determined to quit all literary pursuits, these larcenies gave me butlittle concern. They besides were not the first the same hand

 [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. ]

had committed upon me without having complained of these pilferings. Ina very little time I thought no more of the trick that had been played methan if nothing had happened, and began to collect the materials I hadleft for the purpose of undertaking my projected confessions. 

I had long thought the company of ministers, or at least the citizens andburgesses of Geneva, would remonstrate against the infraction of theedict in the decree made against me. Everything remained quiet, at leastto all exterior appearance; for discontent was general, and ready, on thefirst opportunity, openly to manifest itself. My friends, or personscalling themselves such, wrote letter after letter exhorting me to comeand put myself at their head, assuring me of public separation from thecouncil. The fear of the disturbance and troubles which might be causedby my presence, prevented me from acquiescing with their desires, and, faithful to the oath I had formerly made, never to take the least part inany civil dissension in my country, I chose rather to let the offenceremain as it was, and banish myself forever from the country, than toreturn to it by means which were violent and dangerous. It is true, I expected the burgesses would make legal remonstrances against aninfraction in which their interests were deeply concerned; but no suchsteps were taken. They who conducted the body of citizens sought lessthe real redress of grievances than an opportunity to render themselvesnecessary. They caballed but were silent, and suffered me to bebespattered by the gossips and hypocrites set on to render me odious inthe eyes of the populace, and pass upon them their boistering for a zealin favor of religion. 

After having, during a whole year, vainly expected that some one wouldremonstrate against an illegal proceeding, and seeing myself abandoned bymy fellow-citizens, I determined to renounce my ungrateful country inwhich I never had lived, from which I had not received either inheritanceor services, and by which, in return for the honor I had endeavored to doit, I saw myself so unworthily treated by unanimous consent, since they, who should have spoken, had remained silent. I therefore wrote to thefirst syndic for that year, to M. Favre, if I remember right, a letter inwhich I solemnly gave up my freedom of the city of Geneva, carefullyobserving in it, however, that decency and moderation, from which I havenever departed in the acts of haughtiness which, in my misfortunes, thecruelty of my enemies have frequently forced upon me, This step opened the eyes of the citizens, who feeling they had neglectedtheir own interests by abandoning my defence, took my part when it wastoo late. They had wrongs of their own which they joined to mine, andmade these the subject of several well-reasoned representations, whichthey strengthened and extended, as the refusal of the council, supportedby the ministry of France, made them more clearly perceive the projectformed to impose on them a yoke. These altercations produced severalpamphlets which were undecisive, until that appeared entitled 'Lettresecrites de la Campagne', a work written in favor of the council, withinfinite art, and by which the remonstrating party, reduced to silence, was crushed for a time. This production, a lasting monument of the raretalents of its author, came from the Attorney-General Tronchin, a man ofwit and an enlightened understanding, well versed in the laws andgovernment of the republic. 'Siluit terra'. 

The remonstrators, recovered from their first overthrow, undertook togive an answer, and in time produced one which brought them off tolerablywell. But they all looked to me, as the only person capable of combatinga 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 toaid them with my pen, as I had been the cause of their embarrassment, Iundertook to refute the 'Lettres ecrites de la Campagne', and parodiedthe title of them by that of 'Lettres ecrites de la Montagne, ' which Igave to mine. I wrote this answer so secretly, that at a meeting I hadat 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 ofmine, which was quite ready, fearing obstacles might arise relative tothe impression of it, should the magistrate or my enemies hear of what Ihad done. This work was, however known in France before the publication;but government chose rather to let it appear, than to suffer me to guessat the means by which my secret had been discovered. Concerning this Iwill state what I know, which is but trifling: what I have conjecturedshall remain with myself. 

I received, at Motiers, almost as many visits as at the Hermitage andMontmorency; but these, for the most part were a different kind. Theywho had formerly come to see me were people who, having taste, talents, and principles, something similar to mine, alleged them as the causes oftheir visits, and introduced subjects on which I could converse. AtMotiers the case was different, especially with the visitors who camefrom France. They were officers or other persons who had no taste forliterature, nor had many of them read my works, although, according totheir own accounts, they had travelled thirty, forty, sixty, and even ahundred leagues to come and see me, and admire the illustrious man, thevery celebrated, the great man, etc. For from the time of my settling atMotiers, I received the most impudent flattery, from which the esteem ofthose with whom I associated had formerly sheltered me. As but few of mynew visitors deigned to tell me who or what they were, and as they hadneither read nor cast their eye over my works, nor had their researchesand mine been directed to the same objects, I knew not what to speak tothem upon: I waited for what they had to say, because it was for them toknow and tell me the purpose of their visit. It will naturally beimagined this did not produce conversations very interesting to me, although they, perhaps, were so to my visitors, according to theinformation they might wish to acquire; for as I was without suspicion, I answered without reserve, to every question they thought proper to askme, and they commonly went away as well informed as myself of theparticulars of my situation. 

I was, for example, visited in this manner by M. De Feins, equerry to thequeen, and captain of cavalry, who had the patience to pass several daysat Motiers, and to follow me on foot even to La Ferriere, leading hishorse by the bridle, without having with me any point of union, exceptour 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. Twomen 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. Bythe equipage of these muleteers they were taken for smugglers, and thenews that smugglers were come to see me was instantly spread. Theirmanner of addressing me sufficiently showed they were persons of anotherdescription; but without being smugglers they might be adventurers, andthis doubt kept me for some time on my guard. They soon removed myapprehensions. One was M. De Montauban, who had the title of Comte de laTour du Pin, gentleman to the dauphin; the other, M. Dastier deCarpentras, 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 owntaste, and but little like that of French gentlemen, in some measuregained them my attachment, which an intercourse with them served toimprove. Our acquaintance did not end with the visit; it is still keptup, and they have since been several times to see me, not on foot, thatwas very well for the first time; but the more I have seen of thesegentlemen 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 sympathybetween them and myself. What, therefore, did they want with me? Whycame they to see me with such an equipage? Why repeat their visit? Whywere they so desirous of having me for their host? I did not at thattime propose to myself these questions; but they have sometimes occurredto me since. 

Won by their advances, my heart abandoned itself without reserve, especially to M. Dastier, with whose open countenance I was moreparticularly pleased. I even corresponded with him, and when Idetermined to print the 'Letters from the Mountains', I thought ofaddressing myself to him, to deceive those by whom my packet was waitedfor upon the road to Holland. He had spoken to me a good deal, andperhaps purposely, upon the liberty of the press at Avignon; he offeredme his services should I have anything to print there: I took advantageof 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 obligedto have recourse to Rey taking care to send my papers, one after theother, and not to part with those which succeeded until I had advice ofthe 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 laMonlagne', which D'Holbach had told him was by me. I assured him, and itwas true, that I never had written a book which bore that title. Whenthe letters appeared he became furious, and accused me of falsehood;although I had told him truth. By this means I was certain my manuscripthad been read; as I could not doubt the fidelity of Rey, the mostrational conjecture seemed to be, that my packets had been opened at thepost-house. 

Another acquaintance I made much about the same time, but which was begunby letters, was that with M. Laliand of Nimes, who wrote to me fromParis, begging I would send him my profile; he said he was in want of itfor my bust in marble, which Le Moine was making for him to be placed inhis library. If this was a pretence invented to deceive me, it fullysucceeded. I imagined that a man who wished to have my bust in marble inhis 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 wasnatural this idea should seduce me. I have since seen M. Laliand. Ifound him very ready to render me many trifling services, and to concernhimself in my little affairs, but I have my doubts of his having, in thefew books he ever read, fallen upon any one of those I have written. Ido not know that he has a library, or that such a thing is of any use tohim; and for the bust he has a bad figure in plaster, by Le Moine, fromwhich has been engraved a hideous portrait that bears my name, as if itbore to me some resemblance. 

The only Frenchman who seemed to come to see me, on account of mysentiments, and his taste for my works, was a young officer of theregiment of Limousin, named Seguier de St. Brisson. He made a figure inParis, where he still perhaps distinguishes himself by his pleasingtalents and wit. He came once to Montmorency, the winter which precededmy catastrophe. I was pleased with his vivacity. He afterwards wrote tome at Motiers, and whether he wished to flatter me, or that his head wasturned with Emilius, he informed me he was about to quit the service tolive independently, and had begun to learn the trade of a carpenter. Hehad an elder brother, a captain in the same regiment, the favorite of themother, who, a devotee to excess, and directed by I know not whathypocrite, did not treat the youngest son well, accusing him ofirreligion, and what was still worse, of the unpardonable crime of beingconnected with me. These were the grievances, on account of which he wasdetermined to break with his mother, and adopt the manner of life ofwhich I have just spoken, all to play the part of the young Emilius. Alarmed at his petulance, I immediately wrote to him, endeavoring to makehim change his resolution, and my exhortations were as strong as I couldmake them. They had their effect. He returned to his duty, to hismother, and took back the resignation he had given the colonel, who hadbeen prudent enough to make no use of it, that the young man might havetime to reflect upon what he had done. St. Brisson, cured of thesefollies, was guilty of another less alarming, but, to me, not lessdisagreeable than the rest: he became an author. He successivelypublished two or three pamphlets which announced a man not devoid oftalents, but I have not to reproach myself with having encouraged him bymy praises to continue to write. 

Some time afterwards he came to see me, and we made together a pilgrimageto the island of St. Pierre. During this journey I found him differentfrom what I saw of him at Montmorency. He had, in his manner, somethingaffected, which at first did not much disgust me, although I have sincethought of it to his disadvantage. He once visited me at the hotel deSt. Simon, as I passed through Paris on my way to England. I learnedthere what he had not told me, that he lived in the great world, andoften visited Madam de Luxembourg. Whilst I was at Trie, I never heardfrom him, nor did he so much as make inquiry after me, by means of hisrelation Mademoiselle Seguier, my neighbor. This lady never seemedfavorably disposed towards me. In a word, the infatuation of M. De St. Brisson ended suddenly, like the connection of M. De Feins: but this manowed me nothing, and the former was under obligations to me, unless thefollies I prevented him from committing were nothing more thanaffectation; which might very possibly be the case. 

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

Amongst these connections, made and continued by force, I must not omitthe only one that was agreeable to me, and in which my heart was reallyinterested: this was that I had with a young Hungarian who came to liveat Neuchatel, and from that place to Motiers, a few months after I hadtaken up my residence there. He was called by the people of the countrythe Baron de Sauttern, by which name he had been recommended from Zurich. He was tall, well made, had an agreeable countenance, and mild and socialqualities. He told everybody, and gave me also to understand that hecame to Neuchatel for no other purpose, than that of forming his youth tovirtue, by his intercourse with me. His physiognomy, manner, andbehavior, seemed well suited to his conversation, and I should havethought I failed in one of the greatest duties had I turned my back upona young man in whom I perceived nothing but what was amiable, and whosought my acquaintance from so respectable a motive. My heart knows nothow to connect itself by halves. He soon acquired my friendship, and allmy confidence, and we were presently inseparable. He accompanied me inall my walks, and become fond of them. I took him to the marechal, whoreceived him with the utmost kindness. As he was yet unable to explainhimself in French, he spoke and wrote to me in Latin, I answered inFrench, and this mingling of the two languages did not make ourconversations either less smooth or lively. He spoke of his family, hisaffairs, his adventures, and of the court of Vienna, with the domesticdetails of which he seemed well acquainted. In fine, during two yearswhich we passed in the greatest intimacy, I found in him a mildness ofcharacter proof against everything, manners not only polite but elegant, great neatness of person, an extreme decency in his conversation, in aword, all the marks of a man born and educated a gentleman, and whichrendered 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 theyoung Hungarian who had taken up his residence in my neighborhood;telling me he was a spy whom the minister of France had appointed towatch my proceedings. This information was of a nature to alarm me themore, as everybody advised me to guard against the machinations ofpersons who were employed to keep an eye upon my actions, and to enticeme into France for the purpose of betraying me. To shut the mouths, oncefor all, of these foolish advisers, I proposed to Sauttern, withoutgiving him the least intimation of the information I had received, a journey on foot to Pontarlier, to which he consented. As soon as wearrived there I put the letter from D'Ivernois into his hands, and aftergiving him an ardent embrace, I said: "Sauttern has no need of a proof ofmy confidence in him, but it is necessary I should prove to the publicthat I know in whom to place it. " This embrace was accompanied with apleasure which persecutors can neither feel themselves, nor take awayfrom the oppressed. 

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

When I thought they were perfectly detached from each other, they renewedtheir acquaintance, and the husband had the complaisance to receive theyoung 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 oflies. His name was not Sauttern, but Sauttersheim. With respect to thetitle of baron, given him in Switzerland, I could not reproach him withthe impropriety, because he had never taken it; but I have not a doubt ofhis being a gentleman, and the marshal, who knew mankind, and had been inHungary, always considered and treated him as such. 

He had no sooner left my neighborhood, than the girl at the inn where heeat, at Motiers, declared herself with child by him. She was so dirty acreature, and Sauttern, generally esteemed in the country for his conductand purity of morals, piqued himself so much upon cleanliness, thateverybody was shocked at this impudent pretension. The most amiablewomen of the country, who had vainly displayed to him their charms, werefurious: I myself was almost choked with indignation. I used everyeffort to get the tongue of this impudent woman stopped, offering to payall expenses, and to give security for Sauttersheim. I wrote to him inthe fullest persuasion, not only that this pregnancy could not relate tohim, but that it was feigned, and the whole a machination of his enemiesand mine. I wished him to return and confound the strumpet, and those bywhom she was dictated to. The pusillanimity of his answer surprised me. He wrote to the master of the parish to which the creature belonged, andendeavored to stifle the matter. Perceiving this, I concerned myself nomore about it, but I was astonished that a man who could stoop so lowshould have been sufficiently master of himself to deceive me by hisreserve in the closest familiarity. 

From Strasbourgh, Sauttersheim went to seek his fortune in Paris, andfound 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 throughParis, I saw him much in the same situation; but he was the intimatefriend of M. De Laliand, and I could not learn by what means he hadformed this acquaintance, or whether it was recent or of long standing. Two years afterwards Sauttersheim returned to Strasbourgh, whence hewrote to me and where he died. This, in a few words, is the history ofour connection, and what I know of his adventures; but while I mourn thefate of the unhappy young man, I still, and ever shall, believe he wasthe son of people of distinction, and the impropriety of his conduct wasthe effect of the situations to which he was reduced. 

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

The first of these was that of M. De Luxembourg, who, after having beenlong tormented by the physicians, at length became their victim, by beingtreated for the gout which they would not acknowledge him to have, as fora disorder they thought they could cure. 

According to what La Roche, the confidential servant of Madam deLuxembourg, wrote to me relative to what had happened, it is by thiscruel and memorable example that the miseries of greatness are to bedeplored. 

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

I nevertheless thought I perceived that absence, or my misfortune, hadcooled his affection for me. It is difficult to a courtier to preservethe same attachment to a person whom he knows to be in disgrace withcourts. I moreover suspected the great ascendancy Madam de Luxembourghad over his mind, had been unfavorable to me, and that she had takenadvantage of our separation to injure me in his esteem. For her part, notwithstanding a few affected marks of regard, which daily became lessfrequent, she less concealed the change in her friendship. She wrote tome four or five times into Switzerland, after which she never wrote to meagain, and nothing but my prejudice, confidence and blindness, could haveprevented my discovering in her something more than a coolness towardsme. 

Guy the bookseller, partner with Duchesne, who, after I had leftMontmorency, frequently went to the hotel de Luxembourg, wrote to me thatmy name was in the will of the marechal. There was nothing in thiseither incredible or extraordinary, on which account I had no doubt ofthe truth of the information. I deliberated within myself whether or notI should receive the legacy. Everything well considered, I determined toaccept it, whatever it might be, and to do that honor to the memory of anhonest man, who, in a rank in which friendship is seldom found, had had areal one for me. I had not this duty to fulfill. I heard no more of thelegacy, whether it were true or false; and in truth I should have feltsome pain in offending against one of the great maxims of my system ofmorality, in profiting by anything at the death of a person whom I hadonce held dear. During the last illness of our friend Mussard, Leneipsproposed to me to take advantage of the grateful sense he expressed forour cares, to insinuate to him dispositions in our favor. "Ah! my dearLeneips, " said I, "let us not pollute by interested ideas the sad butsacred duties we discharge towards our dying friend. I hope my name willnever be found in the testament of any person, at least not in that of afriend. " 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 ofwhich I have spoken in the first part of my memoirs. 

My second loss, still more afflicting and irreparable, was that of thebest of women and mothers, who, already weighed down with years, andoverburthened with infirmities and misery, quitted this vale of tears forthe abode of the blessed, where the amiable remembrance of the good wehave done here below is the eternal reward of our benevolence. Go, gentle and beneficent shade, to those of Fenelon, Berneg, Catinat, andothers, who in a more humble state have, like them, opened their heartsto pure charity; go and taste of the fruit of your own benevolence, andprepare for your son the place he hopes to fill by your side. Happy inyour misfortunes that Heaven, in putting to them a period, has spared youthe cruel spectacle of his! Fearing, lest I should fill her heart withsorrow by the recital of my first disasters, I had not written to hersince my arrival in Switzerland; but I wrote to M. De Conzie, to inquireafter her situation, and it was from him I learned she had ceased toalleviate the sufferings of the afflicted, and that her own were at anend. I myself shall not suffer long; but if I thought I should not seeher again in the life to come, my feeble imagination would less delightin the idea of the perfect happiness I there hope to enjoy. 

My third and last loss, for since that time I have not had a friend tolose, was that of the lord marshal. He did not die but tired of servingthe ungratful, he left Neuchatel, and I have never seen him since. He still lives, and will, I hope, survive me: he is alive, and thanks tohim all my attachments on earth are not destroyed. There is one manstill worthy of my friendship; for the real value of this consists morein what we feel than in that which we inspire; but I have lost thepleasure I enjoyed in his, and can rank him in the number of those onlywhom I love, but with whom I am no longer connected. He went to Englandto receive the pardon of the king, and acquired the possession of theproperty which formerly had been confiscated. We did not separatewithout an intention of again being united, the idea of which seemed togive him as much pleasure as I received from it. He determined to resideat Keith Hall, near Aberdeen, and I was to join him as soon as he wassettled there: but this project was too flattering to my hopes to give meany of its success. He did not remain in Scotland. The affectionatesolicitations of the King of Prussia induced him to return to Berlin, and the reason of my not going to him there will presently appear. 

Before this departure, foreseeing the storm which my enemies began toraise against me, he of his own accord sent me letters of naturalization, which seemed to be a certain means of preventing me from being drivenfrom the country. The community of the Convent of Val de Traversfollowed the example of the governor, and gave me letters of Communion, gratis, as they were the first. Thus, in every respect, become acitizen, I was sheltered from legal expulsion, even by the prince; but ithas never been by legitimate means, that the man who, of all others, hasshown the greatest respect for the laws, has been persecuted. I do notthink I ought to enumerate, amongst the number of my losses at this time, that of the Abbe Malby. Having lived sometime at the house of hismother, I have been acquainted with the abbe, but not very intimately, and I have reason to believe the nature of his sentiments with respect tome changed after I acquired a greater celebrity than he already had. Butthe first time I discovered his insincerity was immediately after thepublication of the 'Letters from the Mountain'. A letter attributed tohim, addressed to Madam Saladin, was handed about in Geneva, in which hespoke of this work as the seditious clamors of a furious demagogue. 

The esteem I had for the Abbe Malby, and my great opinion of hisunderstanding, did not permit me to believe this extravagant letter waswritten by him. I acted in this business with my usual candor. I senthim a copy of the letter, informing him he was said to be the author ofit. He returned me no answer. This silence astonished me: but what wasmy surprise when by a letter I received from Madam de Chenonceaux, I learned the Abbe was really the author of that which was attributed tohim, and found himself greatly embarrassed by mine. For even supposingfor a moment that what he stated was true, how could he justify so publican attack, wantonly made, without obligation or necessity, for the solepurpose of overwhelming in the midst of his greatest misfortunes, a manto whom he had shown himself a well-wisher, and who had not done anythingthat could excite his enmity? In a short time afterwards the 'Dialoguesof Phocion', in which I perceived nothing but a compilation, withoutshame or restraint, from my writings, made their appearance. 

In reading this book I perceived the author had not the least regard forme, and that in future I must number him among my most bitter enemies. I do not believe he has ever pardoned me for the Social Contract, farsuperior to his abilities, or the Perpetual Peace; and I am, besides, ofopinion that the desire he expressed that I should make an extract fromthe Abby de St. Pierre, proceeded from a supposition in him that I shouldnot acquit myself of it so well. 

The further I advance in my narrative, the less order I feel myselfcapable of observing. The agitation of the rest of my life has derangedin my ideas the succession of events. These are too numerous, confused, and disagreeable to be recited in due order. The only strong impressionthey have left upon my mind is that of the horrid mystery by which thecause of them is concealed, and of the deplorable state to which theyhave reduced me. My narrative will in future be irregular, and accordingto the events which, without order, may occur to my recollection. I remember about the time to which I refer, full of the idea of myconfessions, I very imprudently spoke of them to everybody, neverimagining it could be the wish or interest, much less within the powerof any person whatsoever, to throw an obstacle in the way of thisundertaking, and had I suspected it, even this would not have renderedme more discreet, as from the nature of my disposition it is totallyimpossible for me to conceal either my thoughts or feelings. Theknowledge of this enterprise was, as far as I can judge, the cause of thestorm that was raised to drive me from Switzerland, and deliver me intothe hands of those by whom I might be prevented from executing it. 

I had another project in contemplation which was not looked upon with amore favorable eye by those who were afraid of the first: this was ageneral edition of my works. I thought this edition of them necessary toascertain what books, amongst those to which my name was affixed, werereally written by me, and to furnish the public with the means ofdistinguishing them from the writings falsely attributed to me by myenemies, to bring me to dishonor and contempt. This was besides a simpleand an honorable means of insuring to myself a livelihood, and the onlyone that remained to me. As I had renounced the profession of an author, my memoirs not being of a nature to appear during my lifetime; as I nolonger gained a farthing in any manner whatsoever, and constantly livedat a certain expense, I saw the end of my resources in that of theproduce of the last things I had written. This reason had induced me tohasten the finishing of my Dictionary of Music, which still wasincomplete. I had received for it a hundred louis(guineas) and a lifeannuity of three hundred livres; but a hundred louis could not last longin the hands of a man who annually expended upwards of sixty, andthree-hundred livres (twelve guineas) a year was but a trifling sum toone upon whom parasites and beggarly visitors lighted like a swarm offlies. 

A company of merchants from Neuchatel came to undertake the generaledition, and a printer or bookseller of the name of Reguillat, fromLyons, thrust himself, I know not by what means, amongst them to directit. The agreement was made upon reasonable terms, and sufficient toaccomplish my object. I had in print and manuscript, matter for sixvolumes in quarto. I moreover agreed to give my assistance in bringingout the edition. The merchants were, on their part, to pay me a thousandcrowns (one hundred and twenty-five pounds) down, and to assign me anannuity of sixteen hundred livres (sixty-six pounds) for life. 

The agreement was concluded but not signed, when the Letters from theMountain appeared. The terrible explosion caused by this infernal work, and its abominable author, terrified the company, and the undertaking wasat an end. 

I would compare the effect of this last production to that of the Letteron French Music, had not that letter, while it brought upon me hatred, and exposed me to danger, acquired me respect and esteem. But after theappearance of the last work, it was a matter of astonishment at Genevaand Versailles that such a monster as the author of it should be sufferedto exist. The little council, excited by Resident de France, anddirected by the attorney-general, made a declaration against my work, by which, in the most severe terms, it was declared to be unworthy ofbeing burned by the hands of the hangman, adding, with an address whichbordered upon the burlesque, there was no possibility of speaking of oranswering it without dishonor. I would here transcribe the curious. Piece of composition, but unfortunately I have it not by me. I ardentlywish some of my readers, animated by the zeal of truth and equity, wouldread over the Letters from the Mountain: they will, I dare hope, feel thestoical moderation which reigns throughout the whole, after all the crueloutrages with which the author was loaded. But unable to answer theabuse, because no part of it could be called by that name nor to thereasons because these were unanswerable, my enemies pretended to appeartoo much enraged to reply: and it is true, if they took the invinciblearguments it contains, for abuse, they must have felt themselves roughlytreated. 

The remonstrating party, far from complaining of the odious declaration, acted according to the spirit of it, and instead of making a trophy ofthe Letters from the Mountain, which they veiled to make them serve as ashield, were pusillanimous enough not to do justice or honor to thatwork, written to defend them, and at their own solicitation. They didnot either quote or mention the letters, although they tacitly drew fromthem all their arguments, and by exactly following the advice with whichthey conclude, made them the sole cause of their safety and triumph. They had imposed on me this duty: I had fulfilled it, and unto the endhad served their cause and the country. I begged of them to abandon me, and in their quarrels to think of nobody but themselves. They took me atmy word, and I concerned myself no more about their affairs, further thanconstantly to exhort them to peace, not doubting, should they continue tobe obstinate, of their being crushed by France; this however did nothappen; I know the reason why it did not, but this is not the place toexplain what I mean. 

The effect produced at Neuchatel by the Letters from the Mountain was atfirst very mild. I sent a copy of them to M. De Montmollin, who receivedit favorably, and read it without making any objection. He was ill aswell as myself; as soon as he recovered he came in a friendly manner tosee me, and conversed on general subjects. A rumor was however begun;the book was burned I know not where. From Geneva, Berne, and perhapsfrom Versailles, the effervescence quickly passed to Neuchatel, andespecially to Val de Travers, where, before even the ministers had takenany apparent Steps, an attempt was secretly made to stir up the people, I ought, I dare assert, to have been beloved by the people of thatcountry in which I have lived, giving alms in abundance, not leavingabout me an indigent person without assistance, never refusing to do anyservice in my power, and which was consistent with justice, making myselfperhaps too familiar with everybody, and avoiding, as far as it waspossible for me to do it, all distinction which might excite the leastjealousy. This, however, did not prevent the populace, secretly stirredup against me, by I know not whom, from being by degrees irritatedagainst me, even to fury, nor from publicly insulting me, not only in thecountry and upon the road, but in the street. Those to whom I hadrendered the greatest services became most irritated against me, and evenpeople who still continued to receive my benefactions, not daring toappear, excited others, and seemed to wish thus to be revenged of me fortheir humiliation, by the obligations they were under for the favors Ihad conferred upon them. Montmollin seemed to pay no attention to whatwas passing, and did not yet come forward. But as the time of communionapproached, he came to advise me not to present myself at the holy table, assuring me, however, he was not my enemy, and that he would leave meundisturbed. I found this compliment whimsical enough; it brought to myrecollection the letter from Madam de Boufflers, and I could not conceiveto whom it could be a matter of such importance whether I communicated ornot. Considering this condescension on my part as an act of cowardice, and moreover, being unwilling to give to the people a new pretext underwhich they might charge me with impiety, I refused the request of theminister, and he went away dissatisfied, giving me to understand I shouldrepent of my obstinacy. 

He could not of his own authority forbid me the communion: that of theConsistory, by which I had been admitted to it, was necessary, and aslong as there was no objection from that body I might present myselfwithout the fear of being refused. Montmollin procured from the Classe(the ministers) a commission to summon me to the Consistory, there togive an account of the articles of my faith, and to excommunicate meshould I refuse to comply. This excommunication could not be pronouncedwithout the aid of the Consistory also, and a majority of the voices. But the peasants, who under the appellation of elders, composed thisassembly, presided over and governed by their minister, might naturallybe expected to adopt his opinion, especially in matters of the clergy, which they still less understood than he did. I was therefore summoned, and I resolved to appear. 

What a happy circumstance and triumph would this have been to me could Ihave spoken, and had I, if I may so speak, had my pen in my mouth! Withwhat superiority, with what facility even, should I have overthrown thispoor minister in the midst of his six peasants! The thirst after powerhaving made the Protestant clergy forget all the principles of thereformation, all I had to do to recall these to their recollection and toreduce them to silence, was to make comments upon my first 'Letters fromthe Mountain', upon which they had the folly to animadvert. 

My text was ready, and I had only to enlarge on it, and my adversary wasconfounded. I should not have been weak enough to remain on thedefensive; it was easy to me to become an assailant without his evenperceiving it, or being able to shelter himself from my attack. Thecontemptible priests of the Classe, equally careless and ignorant, had ofthemselves placed me in the most favorable situation I could desire tocrush them at pleasure. But what of this? It was necessary I shouldspeak without hesitation, and find ideas, turn of expression, and wordsat will, preserving a presence of mind, and keeping myself collected, without once suffering even a momentary confusion. For what could Ihope, feeling as I did, my want of aptitude to express myself with ease?I had been reduced to the most mortifying silence at Geneva, before anassembly which was favorable to me, and previously resolved to approve ofeverything I should say. Here, on the contrary, I had to do with acavalier who, substituting cunning to knowledge, would spread for me ahundred snares before I could perceive one of them, and was resolutelydetermined to catch me in an error let the consequence be what it would. The more I examined the situation in which I stood, the greater danger Iperceived myself exposed to, and feeling the impossibility ofsuccessfully withdrawing from it, I thought of another expedient. I meditated a discourse which I intended to pronounce before theConsistory, to exempt myself from the necessity of answering. The thingwas easy. I wrote the discourse and began to learn it by memory, with aninconceivable ardor. Theresa laughed at hearing me mutter andincessantly repeat the same phrases, while endeavoring to cram them intomy head. I hoped, at length, to remember what I had written: I knew thechatelain as an officer attached to the service of the prince, would bepresent at the Consistory, and that notwithstanding the manoeuvres andbottles of Montmollin, most of the elders were well disposed towards me. I had, moreover, in my favor, reason, truth, and justice, with theprotection of the king, the authority of the council of state, and thegood wishes of every real patriot, to whom the establishment of thisinquisition was threatening. In fine, everything contributed toencourage me. 

On the eve of the day appointed, I had my discourse by rote, and recitedit without missing a word. I had it in my head all night: in the morningI had forgotten it. I hesitated at every word, thought myself before theassembly, became confused, stammered, and lost my presence of mind. Infine, when the time to make my appearance was almost at hand, my couragetotally failed me. I remained at home and wrote to the Consistory, hastily stating my reasons, and pleaded my disorder, which really, in thestate to which apprehension had reduced me, would scarcely have permittedme to stay out the whole sitting. 

The minister, embarrassed by my letter, adjourned the Consistory. In theinterval, he of himself, and by his creatures, made a thousand efforts toseduce the elders, who, following the dictates of their consciences, rather than those they received from him, did not vote according to hiswishes, or those of the class. Whatever power his arguments drawn fromhis cellar might have over this kind of people, he could not gain one ofthem, more than the two or three who were already devoted to his will, and who were called his 'ames damnees'. --[damned souls]--The officer ofthe prince, and the Colonel Pury, who, in this affair, acted with greatzeal, kept the rest to their duty, and when Montmollin wished to proceedto excommunication, his Consistory, by a majority of voices, flatlyrefused to authorize him to do it. Thus reduced to the last expedient, that of stirring up the people against me, he, his colleagues, andother persons, set about it openly, and were so successful, thatnot-withstanding the strong and frequent rescripts of the king, and theorders of the council of state, I was at length obliged to quit thecountry, that I might not expose the officer of the king to be himselfassassinated while he protected me. 

The recollection of the whole of this affair is so confused, that it isimpossible for me to reduce to or connect the circumstances of it. I remember a kind of negotiation had been entered into with the class, in which Montmollin was the mediator. He feigned to believe it wasfeared I should, by my writings, disturb the peace of the country, inwhich case, the liberty I had of writing would be blamed. He had givenme to understand that if I consented to lay down my pen, what was pastwould be forgotten. I had already entered into this engagement withmyself, and did not hesitate in doing it with the class, butconditionally and solely in matters of religion. He found means to havea duplicate of the agreement upon some change necessary to be made in it. The condition having been rejected by the class; I demanded back thewriting, which was returned to me, but he kept the duplicate, pretendingit was lost. After this, the people, openly excited by the ministers, laughed at the rescripts of the king, and the orders of the council ofstate, and shook off all restraint. I was declaimed against from thepulpit, called antichrist, and pursued in the country like a mad wolf. My Armenian dress discovered me to the populace; of this I felt the cruelinconvenience, but to quit it in such circumstances, appeared to me anact of cowardice. I could not prevail upon myself to do it, and Iquietly walked through the country with my caffetan and fur bonnet in themidst of the hootings of the dregs of the people, and sometimes through ashower of stones. Several times as I passed before houses, I heard thoseby whom they were inhabited call out: "Bring me my gun that I may fire athim. " As I did not on this account hasten my pace, my calmness increasedtheir fury, but they never went further than threats, at least withrespect to firearms. 

During the fermentation I received from two circumstances the mostsensible pleasure. The first was my having it in my power to prove mygratitude by means of the lord marshal. The honest part of theinhabitants of Neuchatel, full of indignation at the treatment Ireceived, and the manoeuvres of which I was the victim, held theministers in execration, clearly perceiving they were obedient to aforeign impulse, and the vile agents of people, who, in making them act, kept themselves concealed; they were moreover afraid my case would havedangerous consequences, and be made a precedent for the purpose ofestablishing a real inquisition. 

The magistrates, and especially M. Meuron, who had succeededM. D' Ivernois in the office of attorney-general, made every effort todefend me. Colonel Pury, although a private individual, did more andsucceeded better. It was the colonel who found means to make Montmollinsubmit in his Consistory, by keeping the elders to their duty. He hadcredit, and employed it to stop the sedition; but he had nothing morethan the authority of the laws, and the aid of justice and reason, tooppose to that of money and wine: the combat was unequal, and in thispoint Montmollin was triumphant. However, thankful for his zeal andcares, I wished to have it in my power to make him a return of goodoffices, and in some measure discharge a part of the obligations I wasunder to him. I knew he was very desirous of being named a counsellor ofstate; but having displeased the court by his conduct in the affair ofthe minister Petitpierre, he was in disgrace with the prince andgovernor. I however undertook, at all risks, to write to the lordmarshal in his favor: I went so far as even to mention the employment ofwhich he was desirous, and my application was so well received that, contrary to the expectations of his most ardent well wishers, it wasalmost instantly conferred upon him by the king. In this manner fate, which has constantly raised me to too great an elevation, or plunged meinto an abyss of adversity, continued to toss me from one extreme toanother, and whilst the populace covered me with mud I was able to make acounsellor of state. 

The other pleasing circumstance was a visit I received from Madam deVerdelin with her daughter, with whom she had been at the baths ofBourbonne, whence they came to Motiers and stayed with me two or threedays. By her attention and cares, she at length conquered my longrepugnancy; and my heart, won by her endearing manner, made her a returnof all the friendship of which she had long given me proofs. Thisjourney made me extremely sensible of her kindness: my situation renderedthe consolations of friendship highly necessary to support me under mysufferings. I was afraid she would be too much affected by the insultsI received from the populace, and could have wished to conceal them fromher that her feelings might not be hurt, but this was impossible; andalthough her presence was some check upon the insolent populace in ourwalks, she saw enough of their brutality to enable her to judge of whatpassed when I was alone. During the short residence she made at Motiers, I was still attacked in my habitation. One morning her chambermaid foundmy window blocked up with stones, which had been thrown at it during thenight. A very heavy bench placed in the street by the side of the house, and strongly fastened down, was taken up and reared against the door insuch a manner as, had it not been perceived from the window, to haveknocked down the first person who should have opened the door to go out. Madam de Verdelin was acquainted with everything that passed; for, besides what she herself was witness to, her confidential servant wentinto many houses in the village, spoke to everybody, and was seen inconversation with Montmollin. She did not, however, seem to pay theleast attention to that which happened to me, nor never mentionedMontmollin nor any other person, and answered in a few words to what Isaid to her of him. Persuaded that a residence in England would be moreagreeable to me than any other, she frequently spoke of Mr. Hume who wasthen at Paris, of his friendship for me, and the desire he had of beingof service to me in his own country. It is time I should say somethingof Hume. 

He had acquired a great reputation in France amongst the Encyclopedistsby his essays on commerce and politics, and in the last place by hishistory of the House of Stuart, the only one of his writings of which Ihad read a part, in the translation of the Abbe Prevot. For want ofbeing acquainted with his other works, I was persuaded, according to whatI heard of him, that Mr. Hume joined a very republican mind to theEnglish Paradoxes in favor of luxury. In this opinion I considered hiswhole apology of Charles I. As a prodigy of impartiality, and I had asgreat an idea of his virtue as of his genius. The desire of beingacquainted with this great man, and of obtaining his friendship, hadgreatly strengthened the inclination I felt to go to England, induced bythe solicitations of Madam de Boufflers, the intimate friend of Hume. After my arrival in Switzerland, I received from him, by means of thislady, a letter extremely flattering; in which, to the highest encomiumson my genius, he subjoined a pressing invitation to induce me to go toEngland, and the offer of all his interest, and that of his friends, tomake my residence there agreeable. I found in the country to which I hadretired, the lord marshal, the countryman and friend of Hume, whoconfirmed my good opinion of him, and from whom I learned a literaryanecdote, which did him great honor in the opinion of his lordship andhad the same effect in mine. Wallace, who had written against Hume uponthe subject of the population of the ancients, was absent whilst his workwas in the press. Hume took upon himself to examine the proofs, and todo the needful to the edition. This manner of acting was according to myway of thinking. I had sold at six sous (three pence) a piece, thecopies of a song written against myself. I was, therefore, stronglyprejudiced in favor of Hume, when Madam de Verdelin came and mentionedthe lively friendship he expressed for me, and his anxiety to do me thehonors of England; such was her expression. She pressed me a good dealto take advantage of this zeal and to write to him. As I had notnaturally an inclination to England, and did not intend to go there untilthe last extremity, I refused to write or make any promise; but I lefther at liberty to do whatever she should think necessary to keep Mr. Humefavorably disposed towards me. When she went from Motiers, she left mein the persuasion, by everything she had said to me of that illustriousman, that he was my friend, and she herself still more his. 

After her departure, Montmollin carried on his manoeuvres with morevigor, and the populace threw off all restraint. Yet I still continuedto walk quietly amidst the hootings of the vulgar; and a taste forbotany, which I had begun to contract with Doctor d'Ivernois, making myrambling more amusing, I went through the country herbalising, withoutbeing affected by the clamors of this scum of the earth, whose fury wasstill augmented by my calmness. What affected me most was, seeingfamilies of my friends, [This fatality had begun with my residence at, Yverdon; the banneret Roguin dying a year or two after my departure from that city, the old papa Roguin had the candor to inform me with grief, as he said, that in he papers of his relation, proofs had been found of his having been concerned in the conspiracy to expel me from Yverdon and the state of Berne. This clearly proved the conspiracy not to be, as some people pretended to believe, an affair of hypocrisy since the banneret, far from being a devotee, carried materialism and incredulity to intolerance and fanaticism. Besides, nobody at Yverdon had shown me more constant attention, nor had so prodigally bestowed upon me praises and flattery as this banneret. He faithfully followed the favorite plan of my persecutors. ]

or of persons who gave themselves that name, openly join the league of mypersecutors; such as the D'Ivernois, without excepting the father andbrother of my Isabel le Boy de la Tour, a relation to the friend in whosehouse I lodged, and Madam Girardier, her sister-in-law. This Peter Boywas such a brute; so stupid, and behaved so uncouthly, that, to preventmy mind from being disturbed, I took the liberty to ridicule him; andafter the manner of the 'Petit Prophete', I wrote a pamphlet of a fewpages, entitled, 'la Vision de Pierre de la Montagne dit le Voyant, --[The vision of Peter of the Mountain called the Seer. ]--in which Ifound means to be diverting enough on the miracles which then served asthe great pretext for my persecution. Du Peyrou had this scrap printedat Geneva, but its success in the country was but moderate; theNeuchatelois with all their wit, taste but weakly attic salt orpleasantry when these are a little refined. 

In the midst of decrees and persecutions, the Genevese had distinguishedthemselves by setting up a hue and cry with all their might; and myfriend Vernes amongst others, with an heroical generosity, chose thatmoment precisely to publish against me letters in which he pretended toprove I was not a Christian. These letters, written with an air ofself-sufficiency were not the better for it, although it was positivelysaid the celebrated Bonnet had given them some correction: for this man, although a materialist, has an intolerant orthodoxy the moment I am inquestion. There certainly was nothing in this work which could tempt meto answer it; but having an opportunity of saying a few words upon it inmy 'Letters from the Mountain', I inserted in them a short notesufficiently expressive of disdain to render Vernes furious. He filledGeneva with his furious exclamations, and D'Ivernois wrote me word he hadquite lost his senses. Sometime afterwards appeared an anonymous sheet, which instead of ink seemed to be written with water of Phelethon. Inthis letter I was accused of having exposed my children in the streets, of taking about with me a soldier's trull, of being worn out withdebaucheries, ..... , and other fine things of a like nature. It was notdifficult for me to discover the author. My first idea on reading thislibel, was to reduce to its real value everything the world calls fameand reputation amongst men; seeing thus a man who was never in a brothelin his life, and whose greatest defect was in being as timid and shy as avirgin, treated as a frequenter of places of that description; and infinding myself charged with being...... , I, who not only never had theleast taint of such disorder, but, according to the faculty, was soconstructed as to make it almost impossible for me to contract it. Everything well considered, I thought I could not better refute thislibel than by having it printed in the city in which I longest resided, and with this intention I sent it to Duchesne to print it as it was withan advertisement in which I named M. Vernes and a few short notes by wayof eclaircissement. Not satisfied with printing it only, I sent copiesto several persons, and amongst others one copy to the Prince Louis ofWirtemberg, who had made me polite advances and with whom I was incorrespondence. The prince, Du Peyrou, and others, seemed to have theirdoubts about the author of the libel, and blamed me for having namedVernes upon so slight a foundation. Their remarks produced in me somescruples, and I wrote to Duchesne to suppress the paper. Guy wrote to mehe had suppressed it: this may or may not be the case; I have beendeceived on so many occasions that there would be nothing extraordinaryin my being so on this, and from the time of which I speak, was soenveloped in profound darkness that it was impossible for me to come atany kind of truth. 

M. Vernes bore the imputation with a moderation more than astonishing ina man who was supposed not to have deserved it, and after the fury withwhich he was seized on former occasions. He wrote me two or threeletters in very guarded terms, with a view, as it appeared to me, to endeavor by my answers to discover how far I was certain of his beingthe author of the paper, and whether or not I had any proofs against him. I wrote him two short answers, severe in the sense, but politelyexpressed, and with which he was not displeased. To his third letter, perceiving he wished to form with me a kind of correspondence, I returnedno answer, and he got D'Ivernois to speak to me. Madam Cramer wrote toDu Peyrou, telling him she was certain the libel was not by Vernes. Thishowever, did not make me change my opinion. But as it was possible Imight be deceived, and as it is certain that if I were, I owed Vernes anexplicit reparation, I sent him word by D'Ivernois that I would make himsuch a one as he should think proper, provided he would name to me thereal author of the libel, or at least prove that he himself was not so. I went further: feeling that, after all, were he not culpable, I had noright to call upon him for proofs of any kind, I stated in a memoir ofconsiderable length, the reasons whence I had inferred my conclusion, anddetermined to submit them to the judgment of an arbitrator, against whomVernes could not except. But few people would guess the arbitrator ofwhom I made choice. I declared at the end of the memoir, that if, afterhaving examined it, and made such inquiries as should seem necessary, thecouncil pronounced M. Vernes not to be the author of the libel, from thatmoment I should be fully persuaded he was not, and would immediately goand throw myself at his feet, and ask his pardon until I had obtained it. I can say with the greatest truth that my ardent zeal for equity, theuprightness and generosity of my heart, and my confidence in the love ofjustice innate in every mind never appeared more fully and perceptiblethan in this wise and interesting memoir, in which I took, withouthesitation, my most implacable enemies for arbitrators between acalumniator and myself. I read to Du Peyrou what I had written: headvised me to suppress it, and I did so. He wished me to wait for theproofs Vernes promised, and I am still waiting for them: he thought itbest that I should in the meantime be silent, and I held my tongue, andshall do so the rest of my life, censured as I am for having broughtagainst Vernes a heavy imputation, false and unsupportable by proof, although I am still fully persuaded, nay, as convinced as I am of myexistence, that he is the author of the libel. My memoir is in the handsof Du Peyrou. Should it ever be published my reasons will be found init, and the heart of Jean Jacques, with which my contemporaries would notbe acquainted, will I hope be known. 

I have now to proceed to my catastrophe at Motiers, and to my departurefrom Val de Travers, after a residence of two years and a half, and aneight months suffering with unshaken constancy of the most unworthytreatment. It is impossible for me clearly to recollect thecircumstances of this disagreeable period, but a detail of them will befound in a publication to that effect by Du Peyrou, of which I shallhereafter have occasion to speak. 

After the departure of Madam de Verdelin the fermentation increased, and, notwithstanding the reiterated rescripts of the king, the frequent ordersof the council of state, and the cares of the chatelain and magistratesof the place, the people, seriously considering me as antichrist, andperceiving all their clamors to be of no effect, seemed at lengthdetermined to proceed to violence; stones were already thrown after mein the roads, but I was however in general at too great a distance toreceive any harm from them. At last, in the night of the fair ofMotiers, which is in the beginning of September, I was attacked in myhabitation in such a manner as to endanger the lives of everybody in thehouse. 

At midnight I heard a great noise in the gallery which ran along the backpart of the house. A shower of stones thrown against the window and thedoor which opened to the gallery fell into it with so much noise andviolence, that my dog, which usually slept there, and had begun to bark, ceased from fright, and ran into a corner gnawing and scratching theplanks to endeavor to make his escape. I immediately rose, and waspreparing to go from my chamber into the kitchen, when a stone thrown bya vigorous arm crossed the latter, after having broken the window, forcedopen the door of my chamber, and fell at my feet, so that had I been amoment sooner upon the floor I should have had the stone against mystomach. I judged the noise had been made to bring me to the door, andthe stone thrown to receive me as I went out. I ran into the kitchen, where I found Theresa, who also had risen, and was tremblingly making herway to me as fast as she could. We placed ourselves against the wall outof the direction of the window to avoid the stones, and deliberate uponwhat was best to be done; for going out to call assistance was thecertain means of getting ourselves knocked on the head. Fortunately themaid-servant of an old man who lodged under me was waked by the noise, and got up and ran to call the chatelain, whose house was next to mine. He jumped from his bed, put on his robe de chambre, and instantly came tome with the guard, which, on account of the fair, went the round thatnight, and was just at hand. The chatelain was so alarmed at the sightof the effects of what had happened that he turned pale and on seeing thestones in the gallery, exclaimed, "Good God! here is a quarry!" Onexamining below stairs, a door of a little court was found to have beenforced, and there was an appearance of an attempt having been made to getinto the house by the gallery. On inquiring the reason why the guard hadneither prevented nor perceived the disturbance, it came out that theguards of Motiers had insisted upon doing duty that night, although itwas the turn of those of another village. 

The next day the chatelain sent his report to the council of state, whichtwo days afterwards sent an order to inquire into the affair, to promisea reward and secrecy to those who should impeach such as were guilty, andin the meantime to place, at the expense of the king, guards about myhouse, and that of the chatelain, which joined to it. The day after thedisturbance, Colonel Pury, the Attorney-General Meuron, the ChatelainMartinet, the Receiver Guyenet, the Treasurer d'Ivernois and his father, in a word, every person of consequence in the country, came to see me, and united their solicitations to persuade me to yield to the storm andleave, at least for a time, a place in which I could no longer live insafety nor with honor. I perceived that even the chatelain wasfrightened at the fury of the people, and apprehending it might extend tohimself, would be glad to see me depart as soon as possible, that hemight no longer have the trouble of protecting me there, and be able toquit the parish, which he did after my departure. I therefore yielded totheir solicitations, and this with but little pain, for the hatred of thepeople so afflicted my heart that I was no longer able to support it. 

I had a choice of places to retire to. After Madam de Verdelin returnedto Paris, she had, in several letters, mentioned a Mr. Walpole, whom shecalled my lord, who, having a strong desire to serve me, proposed to mean asylum at one of his country houses, of the situation of which shegave me the most agreeable description; entering, relative to lodging andsubsistence, into a detail which proved she and Lord Walpole had heldparticular consultations upon the project. My lord marshal had alwaysadvised me to go to England or Scotland, and in case of my determiningupon the latter, offered me there an asylum. But he offered me anotherat Potsdam, near to his person, and which tempted me more than all therest. 

He had just communicated to me what the king had said to him about mygoing there, which was a kind of invitation to me from that monarch, andthe Duchess of Saxe-Gotha depended so much upon my taking the journeythat she wrote to me desiring I should go to see her in my way to thecourt of Prussia, and stay some time before I proceeded farther; but Iwas so attached to Switzerland that I could not resolve to quit it solong as it was possible for me to live there, and I seized thisopportunity to execute a project of which I had for several monthsconceived the idea, and of which I have deferred speaking, that I mightnot interrupt my narrative. 

This project consisted in going to reside in the island of St. Peter, an estate belonging to the Hospital of Berne, in the middle of the lakeof Bienne. In a pedestrian pilgrimage I had made the preceding year withDu Peyrou we had visited this isle, with which I was so much delightedthat I had since that time incessantly thought of the means of making itmy place of residence. The greatest obstacle to my wishes arose from theproperty of the island being vested in the people of Berne, who threeyears before had driven me from amongst them; and besides themortification of returning to live with people who had given me sounfavorable a reception, I had reason to fear they would leave me no moreat peace in the island than they had done at Yverdon. I had consultedthe lord marshal upon the subject, who thinking as I did, that the peopleof Berne would be glad to see me banished to the island, and to keep methere as a hostage for the works I might be tempted to write, and soundedtheir dispositions by means of M. Sturler, his old neighbor at Colombier. M. Sturler addressed himself to the chiefs of the state, and, accordingto their answer assured the marshal the Bernois, sorry for their pastbehavior, wished to see me settled in the island of St. Peter, and toleave me there at peace. As an additional precaution, before Idetermined to reside there, I desired the Colonel Chaillet to make newinquiries. He confirmed what I had already heard, and the receiver ofthe island having obtained from his superiors permission to lodge me init, I thought I might without danger go to the house, with the tacticconsent of the sovereign and the proprietors; for I could not expect thepeople of Berne would openly acknowledge the injustice they had done me, and thus act contrary to the most inviolable maxim of all sovereigns. 

The island of St. Peter, called at Neuchatel the island of La Motte, inthe middle of the lake of Bienne, is half a league in, circumference; butin this little space all the chief productions necessary to subsistenceare found. The island has fields, meadows, orchards, woods, andvineyards, and all these, favored by variegated and mountainoussituations, form a distribution of the more agreeable, as the parts, notbeing discovered all at once, are seen successively to advantage, andmake the island appear greater than it really is. A very elevatedterrace forms the western part of it, and commands Gleresse andNeuverville. This terrace is planted with trees which form a long alley, interrupted in the middle by a great saloon, in which, during thevintage, the people from the neighboring shores assemble and divertthemselves. There is but one house in the whole island, but that is veryspacious and convenient, inhabited by the receiver, and situated in ahollow by which it is sheltered from the winds. 

Five or six hundred paces to the south of the island of St. Peter isanother island, considerably less than the former, wild and uncultivated, which appears to have been detached from the greater island by storms:its gravelly soil produces nothing but willows and persicaria, but thereis in it a high hill well covered with greensward and very pleasant. Theform of the lake is an almost regular oval. The banks, less rich thanthose of the lake of Geneva and Neuchatel, form a beautiful decoration, especially towards the western part, which is well peopled, and edgedwith vineyards at the foot, of a chain of mountains, something like thoseof Cote-Rotie, but which produce not such excellent wine. The bailiwickof St. John, Neuveville, Berne, and Bienne, lie in a line from the southto the north, to the extremity of the lake, the whole interspersed withvery agreeable villages. 

Such was the asylum I had prepared for myself, and to which I wasdetermined to retire alter quitting Val de Travers. 

 [It may perhaps be necessary to remark that I left there an enemy in M. Du Teneaux, mayor of Verrieres, not much esteemed in the country, but who has a brother, said to be an honest man, in the office of M. De St. Florentin. The mayor had been to see him sometime before my adventure. Little remarks of this kind, though of no consequence, in themselves, may lead to the discovery of many underhand dealings. ]

This choice was so agreeable to my peaceful inclinations, and my solitaryand indolent disposition, that I consider it as one of the pleasingreveries of which I became the most passionately fond. I thought Ishould in that island be more separated from men, more sheltered fromtheir outrages, and sooner forgotten by mankind: in a word, moreabandoned to the delightful pleasures of the inaction of a contemplativelife. I could have wished to have been confined in it in such a manneras to have had no intercourse with mortals, and I certainly took everymeasure I could imagine to relieve me from the necessity of troubling myhead about them. 

The great question was that of subsistence, and by the dearness ofprovisions, and the difficulty of carriage, this is expensive in theisland; the inhabitants are besides at the mercy of the receiver. Thisdifficulty was removed by an arrangement which Du Peyrou made with me inbecoming a substitute to the company which had undertaken and abandonedmy general edition. I gave him all the materials necessary, and made theproper arrangement and distribution. To the engagement between us Iadded that of giving him the memoirs of my life, and made him the generaldepositary of all my papers, under the express condition of making no useof them until after my death, having it at heart quietly to end my dayswithout doing anything which should again bring me back to therecollection of the public. The life annuity he undertook to pay me wassufficient to my subsistence. My lord marshal having recovered all hisproperty, had offered me twelve hundred livres (fifty pounds) a year, half of which I accepted. He wished to send me the principal, and this Irefused on account of the difficulty of placing it. He then sent theamount to Du Peyrou, in whose hands it remained, and who pays me theannuity according to the terms agreed upon with his lordship. Addingtherefore to the result of my agreement with Du Peyrou, the annuity ofthe marshal, two-thirds of which were reversible to Theresa after mydeath, and the annuity of three hundred livres from Duchesne, I wasassured of a genteel subsistence for myself, and after me for Theresa, towhom I left seven hundred livres (twenty-nine pounds) a year, from theannuities paid me by Rey and the lord marshal; I had therefore no longerto fear a want of bread. But it was ordained that honor should oblige meto reject all these resources which fortune and my labors placed withinmy reach, and that I should die as poor as I had lived. It will be seenwhether or not, without reducing myself to the last degree of infamy, Icould abide by the engagements which care has always taken to renderignominious, by depriving me of every other resource to force me toconsent to my own dishonor. How was it possible anybody could doubt ofthe choice I should make in such an alternative? Others have judged ofmy heart by their own. 

My mind at ease relative to subsistence was without care upon every othersubject. Although I left in the world the field open to my enemies, there remained in the noble enthusiasm by which my writings weredictated, and in the constant uniformity of my principles, an evidence ofthe uprightness of my heart which answered to that deducible from myconduct in favor of my natural disposition. I had no need of any otherdefense against my calumniators. They might under my name describeanother man, but it was impossible they should deceive such as wereunwilling to be imposed upon. I could have given them my whole life toanimadvert upon, with a certainty, notwithstanding all my faults andweaknesses, and my want of aptitude to, support the lightest yoke, oftheir finding me in every situation a just and good man, withoutbitterness, hatred, or jealousy, ready to acknowledge my errors, andstill more prompt to forget the injuries I received from others; seekingall my happiness in love, friendship, and affection and in everythingcarrying my sincerity even to imprudence and the most incredibledisinterestedness. 

I therefore in some measure took leave of the age in which I lived and mycontemporaries, and bade adieu to the world, with an intention to confinemyself for the rest of my days to that island; such was my resolution, and it was there I hoped to execute the great project of the indolentlife to which I had until then consecrated the little activity with whichHeaven had endowed me. The island was to become to me that of Papimanie, that happy country where the inhabitants sleep:

 Ou l'on fait plus, ou l'on fait nulle chose. 

 [Where they do more: where they do nothing. ]

This more was everything for me, for I never much regretted sleep;indolence is sufficient to my happiness, and provided I do nothing, I hadrather dream waking than asleep. Being past the age of romanticprojects, and having been more stunned than flattered by the trumpet offame, my only hope was that of living at ease, and constantly at leisure. This is the life of the blessed in the world to come, and for the rest ofmine here below I made it my supreme happiness. 

They who reproach me with so many contradictions, will not fail here toadd another to the number. I have observed the indolence of greatcompanies made them unsupportable to me, and I am now seeking solitudefor the sole purpose of abandoning myself to inaction. This however ismy disposition; if there be in it a contradiction, it proceeds fromnature and not from me; but there is so little that it is precisely onthat account that I am always consistent. The indolence of company isburdensome because it is forced. That of solitude is charming because itis free, and depends upon the will. In company I suffer cruelly byinaction, because this is of necessity. I must there remain nailed to mychair, or stand upright like a picket, without stirring hand or foot, notdaring to run, jump, sing, exclaim, nor gesticulate when I please, notallowed even to dream, suffering at the same time the fatigue of inactionand all the torment of constraint; obliged to pay attention to everyfoolish thing uttered, and to all the idle compliments paid, andconstantly to keep my mind upon the rack that I may not fail to introducein my turn my jest or my lie. And this is called idleness! It is thelabor of a galley slave. 

The indolence I love is not that of a lazy fellow who sits with his armsacross in total inaction, and thinks no more than he acts, but that of achild which is incessantly in motion doing nothing, and that of a dotardwho wanders from his subject. I love to amuse myself with trifles, bybeginning a hundred things and never finishing one of them, by going orcoming as I take either into my head, by changing my project at everyinstant, by following a fly through all its windings, in wishing tooverturn a rock to see what is under it, by undertaking with ardor thework of ten years, and abandoning it without regret at the end of tenminutes; finally, in musing from morning until night without order orcoherence, and in following in everything the caprice of a moment. 

Botany, such as I have always considered it, and of which after my ownmanner I began to become passionately fond, was precisely an idle study, proper to fill up the void of my leisure, without leaving room for thedelirium of imagination or the weariness of total inaction. Carelesslywandering in the woods and the country, mechanically gathering here aflower and there a branch; eating my morsel almost by chance, observing athousand and a thousand times the same things, and always with the sameinterest, because I always forgot them, were to me the means of passingan eternity without a weary moment. However elegant, admirable, andvariegated the structure of plants may be, it does not strike an ignoranteye sufficiently to fix the attention. The constant analogy, with, atthe same time, the prodigious variety which reigns in their conformation, gives pleasure to those only who have already some idea of the vegetablesystem. Others at the sight of these treasures of nature feel nothingmore than a stupid and monotonous admiration. They see nothing in detailbecause they know not for what to look, nor do they perceive the whole, having no idea of the chain of connection and combinations whichoverwhelms with its wonders the mind of the observer. I was arrived atthat happy point of knowledge, and my want of memory was such asconstantly to keep me there, that I knew little enough to make the wholenew to me, and yet everything that was necessary to make me sensible tothe beauties of all the parts. The different soils into which theisland, although little, was divided, offered a sufficient variety ofplants, for the study and amusement of my whole life. I was determinednot to leave a blade of grass without analyzing it, and I began alreadyto take measures for making, with an immense collection of observations, the 'Flora Petrinsularis'. 

I sent for Theresa, who brought with her my books and effects. Weboarded with the receiver of the island. His wife had sisters at Nidau, who by turns came to see her, and were company for Theresa. I here madethe experiment of the agreeable life which I could have wished tocontinue to the end of my days, and the pleasure I found in it onlyserved to make me feel to a greater degree the bitterness of that bywhich it was shortly to be succeeded. 

I have ever been passionately fond of water, and the sight of it throwsme into a delightful reverie, although frequently without a determinateobject. 

Immediately after I rose from my bed I never failed, if the weather wasfine, to run to the terrace to respire the fresh and salubrious air ofthe morning, and glide my eye over the horizon of the lake, bounded bybanks and mountains, delightful to the view. I know no homage moreworthy of the divinity than the silent admiration excited by thecontemplation of his works, and which is not externally expressed. I can easily comprehend the reason why the inhabitants of great cities, who see nothing but walls, and streets, have but little faith; but notwhence it happens that people in the country, and especially such as livein solitude, can possibly be without it. How comes it to pass that thesedo not a hundred times a day elevate their minds in ecstasy to the Authorof the wonders which strike their senses. For my part, it is especiallyat rising, wearied by a want of sleep, that long habit inclines me tothis elevation which imposes not the fatigue of thinking. But to thiseffect my eyes must be struck with the ravishing beauties of nature. Inmy chamber I pray less frequently, and not so fervently; but at the viewof a fine landscape I feel myself moved, but by what I am unable to tell. I have somewhere read of a wise bishop who in a visit to his diocesefound an old woman whose only prayer consisted in the single interjection"Oh!"--"Good mother, " said he to her, "continue to pray in this manner;your prayer is better than ours. " This better prayer is mine also. 

After breakfast, I hastened, with a frown on my brow, to write a fewpitiful letters, longing ardently for the moment after which I shouldhave no more to write. I busied myself for a few minutes about my booksand papers, to unpack and arrange them, rather than to read what theycontained; and this arrangement, which to me became the work of Penelope, gave me the pleasure of musing for a while. I then grew weary, andquitted my books to spend the three or four hours which remained to me ofthe morning in the study of botany, and especially of the system ofLinnaeus, of which I became so passionately fond, that, after having felthow useless my attachment to it was, I yet could not entirely shake itoff. This great observer is, in my opinion, the only one who, withLudwig, has hitherto considered botany as a naturalist, and aphilosopher; but he has too much studied it in herbals and gardens, andnot sufficiently in nature herself. For my part, whose garden was alwaysthe whole island, the moment I wanted to make or verify an observation, I ran into the woods or meadows with my book under my arm, and there laidmyself upon the ground near the plant in question, to examine it at myease as it stood. This method was of great service to me in gaining aknowledge of vegetables in their natural state, before they had beencultivated and changed in their nature by the hands of men. Fagon, firstphysician to Louis XIV. , and who named and perfectly knew all the plantsin the royal garden, is said to have been so ignorant in the country asnot to know how to distinguish the same plants. I am precisely thecontrary. I know something of the work of nature, but nothing of that ofthe gardener. 

I gave every afternoon totally up to my indolent and carelessdisposition, and to following without regularity the impulse of themoment. When the weather was calm, I frequently went immediately afterI rose from dinner, and alone got into the boat. The receiver had taughtme to row with one oar; I rowed out into the middle of the lake. Themoment I withdrew from the bank, I felt a secret joy which almost made meleap, and of which it is impossible for me to tell or even comprehend thecause, if it were not a secret congratulation on my being out of thereach of the wicked. I afterwards rowed about the lake, sometimesapproaching the opposite bank, but never touching at it. I often let myboat float at the mercy of the wind and water, abandoning myself toreveries without object, and which were not the less agreeable for theirstupidity. I sometimes exclaimed, "O nature! O my mother! I am hereunder thy guardianship alone; here is no deceitful and cunning mortal tointerfere between thee and me. " In this manner I withdrew half a leaguefrom land; I could have wished the lake had been the ocean. However, toplease my poor dog, who was not so fond as I was of such a long stay onthe water, I commonly followed one constant course; this was going toland at the little island where I walked an hour or two, or laid myselfdown on the grass on the summit of the hill, there to satiate myself withthe pleasure of admiring the lake and its environs, to examine anddissect all the herbs within my reach, and, like another Robinson Crusoe, built myself an imaginary place of residence in the island. I becamevery much attached to this eminence. When I brought Theresa, with thewife of the receiver and her sisters, to walk there, how proud was I tobe their pilot and guide! We took there rabbits to stock it. This wasanother source of pleasure to Jean Jacques. These animals rendered theisland still more interesting to me. I afterwards went to it morefrequently, and with greater pleasure to observe the progress of the newinhabitants. 

To these amusements I added one which recalled to my recollection thedelightful life I led at the Charmettes, and to which the seasonparticularly invited me. This was assisting in the rustic labors ofgathering of roots and fruits, of which Theresa and I made it a pleasureto partake with the wife of the receiver and his family. I remember aBernois, one M. Kirkeberguer, coming to see me, found me perched upon atree with a sack fastened to my waist, and already so full of apples thatI could not stir from the branch on which I stood. I was not sorry to becaught in this and similar situations. I hoped the people of Berne, witnesses to the employment of my leisure, would no longer think ofdisturbing my tranquillity but leave me at peace in my solitude. Ishould have preferred being confined there by their desire: this wouldhave rendered the continuation of my repose more certain. 

This is another declaration upon which I am previously certain of theincredulity of many of my readers, who obstinately continue to judge meby themselves, although they cannot but have seen, in the course of mylife, a thousand internal affections which bore no resemblance to any oftheirs. But what is still more extraordinary is, that they refuse meevery sentiment, good or indifferent, which they have not, and areconstantly ready to attribute to me such bad ones as cannot enter intothe heart of man: in this case they find it easy to set me in oppositionto nature, and to make of me such a monster as cannot in reality exist. Nothing absurd appears to them incredible, the moment it has a tendencyto blacken me, and nothing in the least extraordinary seems to thempossible, if it tends to do me honor. 

But, notwithstanding what they may think or say, I will still continuefaithfully to state what J. J. Rousseau was, did, and thought; withoutexplaining, or justifying, the singularity of his sentiments and ideas, or endeavoring to discover whether or not others have thought as he did. I became so delighted with the island of St. Peter, and my residencethere was so agreeable to me that, by concentrating all my desires withinit, I formed the wish that I might stay there to the end of my life. Thevisits I had to return in the neighborhood, the journeys I should beunder the necessity of making to Neuchatel, Bienne, Yverdon, and Nidau, already fatigued my imagination. A day passed out of the island, seemedto me a loss of so much happiness, and to go beyond the bounds of thelake was to go out of my element. Past experience had besides renderedme apprehensive. The very satisfaction that I received from anythingwhatever was sufficient to make me fear the loss of it, and the ardentdesire I had to end my days in that island, was inseparable from theapprehension of being obliged to leave it. I had contracted a habit ofgoing in the evening to sit upon the sandy shore, especially when thelake was agitated. I felt a singular pleasure in seeing the waves breakat my feet. I formed of them in my imagination the image of the tumultof the world contrasted with the peace of my habitation; and thispleasing idea sometimes softened me even to tears. The repose I enjoyedwith ecstasy was disturbed by nothing but the fear of being deprived ofit, and this inquietude was accompanied with some bitterness. I felt mysituation so precarious as not to dare to depend upon its continuance. "Ah! how willingly, " said I to myself, "would I renounce the liberty ofquitting this place, for which I have no desire, for the assurance ofalways remaining in it. Instead of being permitted to stay here byfavor, why am I not detained by force! They who suffer me to remain mayin a moment drive me away, and can I hope my persecutors, seeing mehappy, will leave me here to continue to be so? Permitting me to live inthe island is but a trifling favor. I could wish to be condemned to doit, and constrained to remain here that I may not be obliged to goelsewhere. " I cast an envious eye upon Micheli du Cret, who, quiet inthe castle of Arbourg, had only to determine to be happy to become so. In fine, by abandoning myself to these reflections, and the alarmingapprehensions of new storms always ready to break over my head, I wishedfor them with an incredible ardor, and that instead of suffering me toreside in the island, the Bernois would give it me for a perpetualprison; and I can assert that had it depended upon me to get myselfcondemned to this, I would most joyfully have done it, preferring athousand times the necessity of passing my life there to the danger ofbeing driven to another place. 

This fear did not long remain on my mind. When I least expected what wasto happen, I received a letter from the bailiff of Nidau, within whosejurisdiction the island of St. Peter was; by his letter he announced tome from their excellencies an order to quit the island and their states. I thought myself in a dream. Nothing could be less natural, reasonable, or foreseen than such an order: for I considered my apprehensions as theresult of inquietude in a man whose imagination was disturbed by hismisfortunes, and not to proceed from a foresight which could have theleast foundation. The measures I had taken to insure myself the tacitconsent of the sovereign, the tranquillity with which I had been left tomake my establishment, the visits of several people from Berne, and thatof the bailiff himself, who had shown me such friendship and attention, and the rigor of the season in which it was barbarous to expel a man whowas sickly and infirm, all these circumstances made me and many peoplebelieve that there was some mistake in the order and that ill-disposedpeople had purposely chosen the time of the vintage and the vacation ofthe senate suddenly to do me an injury. 

Had I yielded to the first impulse of my indignation, I shouldimmediately have departed. But to what place was I to go? What was tobecome of me at the beginning of the winter, without object, preparation, guide or carriage? Not to leave my papers and effects at the mercy ofthe first comer, time was necessary to make proper arrangements, and itwas not stated in the order whether or not this would be granted me. The continuance of misfortune began to weigh down my courage. For thefirst time in my life I felt my natural haughtiness stoop to the yoke ofnecessity, and, notwithstanding the murmurs of my heart, I was obliged todemean myself by asking for a delay. I applied to M. De Graffenried, whohad sent me the order, for an explanation of it. His letter, conceivedin the strongest terms of disapprobation of the step that had been taken, assured me it was with the greatest regret he communicated to me thenature of it, and the expressions of grief and esteem it contained seemedso many gentle invitations to open to him my heart: I did so. I had nodoubt but my letter would open the eyes of my persecutors, and that if socruel an order was not revoked, at least a reasonable delay, perhaps thewhole winter, to make the necessary preparations for my retreat, and tochoose a place of abode, would be granted me. 

Whilst I waited for an answer, I reflected upon my situation, anddeliberated upon the steps I had to take. I perceived so manydifficulties on all sides, the vexation I had suffered had so stronglyaffected me, and my health was then in such a bad state, that I was quiteovercome, and the effect of my discouragement was to deprive me of thelittle resource which remained in my mind, by which I might, as well asit was possible to do it, have withdrawn myself from my melancholysituation. In whatever asylum I should take refuge, it appearedimpossible to avoid either of the two means made use of to expel me. One of which was to stir up against me the populace by secret manoeuvres;and the other to drive me away by open force, without giving a reason forso doing. I could not, therefore, depend upon a safe retreat, unless Iwent in search of it farther than my strength and the season seemedlikely to permit. These circumstances again bringing to my recollectionthe ideas which had lately occurred to me, I wished my persecutors tocondemn me to perpetual imprisonment rather than oblige me incessantly towander upon the earth, by successively expelling me from the asylums ofwhich I should make choice: and to this effect I made them a proposal. Two days after my first letter to M. De Graffenried, I wrote him asecond, desiring he would state what I had proposed to theirexcellencies. The answer from Berne to both was an order, conceived inthe most formal and severe terms, to go out of the island, and leaveevery territory, mediate and immediate of the republic, within the spaceof twenty-four hours, and never to enter them again under the mostgrievous penalties. 

This was a terrible moment. I have since that time felt greater anguish, but never have I been more embarrassed. What afflicted me most was beingforced to abandon the project which had made me desirous to pass thewinter in the island. It is now time I should relate the fatal anecdotewhich completed my disasters, and involved in my ruin an unfortunatepeople, whose rising virtues already promised to equal those of Rome andSparta, I had spoken of the Corsicans in the 'Social Contract' as a newpeople, the only nation in Europe not too worn out for legislation, and had expressed the great hope there was of such a people, if it werefortunate enough to have a wise legislator. My work was read by some ofthe Corsicans, who were sensible of the honorable manner in which I hadspoken of them; and the necessity under which they found themselves ofendeavoring to establish their republic, made their chiefs think ofasking me for my ideas upon the subject. M. Buttafuoco, of one of thefirst families in the country, and captain in France, in the RoyalItalians, wrote to me to that effect, and sent me several papers forwhich I had asked to make myself acquainted with the history of thenation and the state of the country. M. Paoli, also, wrote to me severaltimes, and although I felt such an undertaking to be superior to myabilities; I thought I could not refuse to give my assistance to so greatand noble a work, the moment I should have acquired all the necessaryinformation. It was to this effect I answered both these gentlemen, andthe correspondence lasted until my departure. 

Precisely at the same time, I heard that France was sending troops toCorsica, and that she had entered into a treaty with the Genoese. Thistreaty and sending of troops gave me uneasiness, and, without imaginingI had any further relation with the business, I thought it impossible andthe attempt ridiculous, to labor at an undertaking which required suchundisturbed tranquillity as the political institution of a people in themoment when perhaps they were upon the point of being subjugated. I didnot conceal my fears from M. Buttafuoco, who rather relieved me from themby the assurance that, were there in the treaty things contrary to theliberty of his country, a good citizen like himself would not remain ashe did in the service of France. In fact, his zeal for the legislationof the Corsicans, and his connections with M. Paoli, could not leave adoubt on my mind respecting him; and when I heard he made frequentjourneys to Versailles and Fontainebleau, and had conversations with M. De Choiseul, all I concluded from the whole was, that with respect to thereal intentions of France he had assurances which he gave me tounderstand, but concerning which he did not choose openly to explainhimself by letter. 

This removed a part of my apprehensions. Yet, as I could not comprehendthe meaning of the transportation of troops from France, nor reasonablysuppose they were sent to Corsica to protect the liberty of theinhabitants, which they of themselves were very well able to defendagainst the Genoese, I could neither make myself perfectly easy, norseriously undertake the plan of the proposed legislation, until I hadsolid proofs that the whole was serious, and that the parties meant notto trifle with me. I much wished for an interview with M. Buttafuoco, asthat was certainly the best means of coming at the explanation I wished. Of this he gave me hopes, and I waited for it with the greatestimpatience. I know not whether he really intended me any interview ornot; but had this even been the case, my misfortunes would have preventedme from profiting by it. 

The more I considered the proposed undertaking, and the further Iadvanced in the examination of the papers I had in my hands, the greaterI found the necessity of studying, in the country, the people for whominstitutions were to be made, the soil they inhabited, and all therelative circumstances by which it was necessary to appropriate to themthat institution. I daily perceived more clearly the impossibility ofacquiring at a distance all the information necessary to guide me. ThisI wrote to M. Buttafuoco, and he felt as I did. Although I did not formthe precise resolution of going to Corsica. I considered a good deal ofthe means necessary to make that voyage. I mentioned it to M. Dastier, who having formerly served in the island under M. De Maillebois, wasnecessarily acquainted with it. He used every effort to dissuade me fromthis intention, and I confess the frightful description he gave me of theCorsicans and their country, considerably abated the desire I had ofgoing to live amongst them. 

But when the persecutions of Motiers made me think of quittingSwitzerland, this desire was again strengthened by the hope of at lengthfinding amongst these islanders the repose refused me in every otherplace. One thing only alarmed me, which was my unfitness for the activelife to which I was going to be condemned, and the aversion I had alwayshad to it. My disposition, proper for meditating at leisure and insolitude, was not so for speaking and acting, and treating of affairswith men. Nature, which had endowed me with the first talent, hadrefused me the last. Yet I felt that, even without taking a direct andactive part in public affairs, I should as soon as I was in Corsica, be under the necessity of yielding to the desires of the people, and offrequently conferring with the chiefs. The object even of the voyagerequired that, instead of seeking retirement, I should in the heart ofthe country endeavor to gain the information of which I stood in need. It was certain that I should no longer be master of my own time, andthat, in spite of myself, precipitated into the vortex in which I was notborn to move, I should there lead a life contrary to my inclination, and never appear but to disadvantage. I foresaw that ill-supporting bymy presence the opinion my books might have given the Corsicans of mycapacity, I should lose my reputation amongst them, and, as much to theirprejudice as my own, be deprived of the confidence they had in me, without which, however, I could not successfully produce the work theyexpected from my pen. I am certain that, by thus going out of my sphere, I should become useless to the inhabitants, and render myself unhappy. 

Tormented, beaten by storms from every quarter, and, for several yearspast, fatigued by journeys and persecution, I strongly felt a want of therepose of which my barbarous enemies wantonly deprived me: I sighed morethan ever after that delicious indolence, that soft tranquillity of bodyand mind, which I had so much desired, and to which, now that I hadrecovered from the chimeras of love and friendship, my heart limited itssupreme felicity. I viewed with terror the work I was about toundertake; the tumultuous life into which I was to enter made me tremble, and if the grandeur, beauty, and utility of the object animated mycourage, the impossibility of conquering so many difficulties entirelydeprived me of it. 

Twenty years of profound meditation in solitude would have been lesspainful to me than an active life of six months in the midst of men andpublic affairs, with a certainty of not succeeding in my undertaking. 

I thought of an expedient which seemed proper to obviate everydifficulty. Pursued by the underhand dealings of my secret persecutorsto every place in which I took refuge, and seeing no other except Corsicawhere I could in my old days hope for the repose I had until then beeneverywhere deprived of, I resolved to go there with the directions of M. Buttafuoco as soon as this was possible, but to live there intranquillity; renouncing, in appearance, everything relative tolegislation, and, in some measure, to make my hosts a return for theirhospitality, to confine myself to writing in the country the history ofthe Corsicans, with a reserve in my own mind of the intention of secretlyacquiring the necessary information to become more useful to them shouldI see a probability of success. In this manner, by not entering into anengagement, I hoped to be enabled better to meditate in secret and moreat my ease, a plan which might be useful to their purpose, and thiswithout much breaking in upon my dearly beloved solitude, or submittingto a kind of life which I had ever found insupportable. 

But the journey was not, in my situation, a thing so easy to get over. According to what M. Dastier had told me of Corsica, I could not expectto find there the most simple conveniences of life, except such as Ishould take with me; linen, clothes, plate, kitchen furniture, and books, all were to be conveyed thither. To get there myself with mygouvernante, I had the Alps to cross, and in a journey of two hundredleagues to drag after me all my baggage; I had also to pass through thestates of several sovereigns, and according to the example set to allEurope, I had, after what had befallen me, naturally to expect to findobstacles in every quarter, and that each sovereign would think he didhimself honor by overwhelming me with some new insult, and violating inmy person all the rights of persons and humanity. The immense expense, fatigue, and risk of such a journey made a previous consideration ofthem, and weighing every difficulty, the first step necessary. The ideaof being alone, and, at my age, without resource, far removed from all myacquaintance, and at the mercy of these semi-barbarous and ferociouspeople, such as M. Dastier had described them to me, was sufficient tomake me deliberate before I resolved to expose myself to such dangers. I ardently wished for the interview for which M. Buttafuoco had given mereason to hope, and I waited the result of it to guide me in mydetermination. 

Whilst I thus hesitated came on the persecutions of Motiers, whichobliged me to retire. I was not prepared for a long journey, especiallyto Corsica. I expected to hear from Buttafuoco; I took refuge in theisland of St. Peter, whence I was driven at the beginning of winter, as Ihave already stated. The Alps, covered with snow, then rendered myemigration impracticable, especially with the promptitude required fromme. It is true, the extravagant severity of a like order rendered theexecution of it almost impossible; for, in the midst of that concentredsolitude, surrounded by water, and having but twenty-four hours afterreceiving the order to prepare for my departure, and find a boat andcarriages to get out of the island and the territory, had I had wings, I should scarcely have been able to pay obedience to it. This I wrote tothe bailiff of Nidau, in answer to his letter, and hastened to take mydeparture from a country of iniquity. In this manner was I obliged toabandon my favorite project, for which reason, not having in myoppression been able to prevail upon my persecutors to dispose of meotherwise, I determined, in consequence of the invitation of my lordmarshal, upon a journey to Berlin, leaving Theresa to pass the winter inthe island of St. Peter, with my books and effects, and depositing mypapers in the hands of M. Du Peyrou. I used so much diligence that thenext morning I left the island and arrived at Bienne before noon. Anaccident, which I cannot pass over in silence, had here well nigh put anend to my journey. 

As soon as the news or my having received an order to quit my asylum wascirculated, I received a great number of visits from the neighborhood, and especially from the Bernois, who came with the most detestablefalsehood to flatter and soothe me, protesting that my persecutors hadseized the moment of the vacation of the senate to obtain and send me theorder, which, said they, had excited the indignation of the two hundred. Some of these comforters came from the city of Bienne, a little freestate within that of Berne, and amongst others a young man of the name ofWildremet whose family was of the first rank, and had the greatest creditin that city. Wildremet strongly solicited me in the name of hisfellow-citizens to choose my retreat amongst them, assuring me that theywere anxiously desirous of it, and that they would think it an honor andtheir duty to make me forget the persecutions I had suffered; that withthem I had nothing to fear from the influence of the Bernois, thatBienne was a free city, governed by its own laws, and that the citizenswere unanimously resolved not to hearken to any solicitation whichshould be unfavorable to me. 

Wildremet perceiving all he could say to be ineffectual, brought to hisaid several other persons, as well from Bienne and the environs as fromBerne; even, and amongst others, the same Kirkeberguer, of whom I havespoken, who, after my retreat to Switzerland had endeavored to obtain myesteem, and by his talents and principles had interested me in his favor. But I received much less expected and more weighty solicitations from M. Barthes, secretary to the embassy from France, who came with Wildremet tosee me, exhorted me to accept his invitation, and surprised me by thelively and tender concern he seemed to feel for my situation. I did notknow M. Barthes; however I perceived in what he said the warmth and zealof friendship, and that he had it at heart to persuade me to fix myresidence at Bienne. He made the most pompous eulogium of the city andits inhabitants, with whom he showed himself so intimately connected asto call them several times in my presence his patrons and fathers. 

This from Barthes bewildered me in my conjectures. I had alwayssuspected M. De Choisuel to be the secret author of all the persecutionsI suffered in Switzerland. The conduct of the resident of Geneva, and that of the ambassador at Soleure but too much confirmed mysuspicion; I perceived the secret influence of France in everything thathappened to me at Berne, Geneva and Neuchatel, and I did not think I hadany powerful enemy in that kingdom, except the Duke de Choiseul. Whattherefore could I think of the visit of Barthes and the tender concern heshowed for my welfare? My misfortunes had not yet destroyed theconfidence natural to my heart, and I had still to learn from experienceto discern snares under the appearance of friendship. I sought withsurprise the reason of the benevolence of M. Barthes; I was not weakenough to believe he had acted from himself; there was in his mannersomething ostentatious, an affectation even which declared a concealedintention, and I was far from having found in any of these littlesubaltern agents, that generous intrepidity which, when I was in asimilar employment, had often caused a fermentation in my heart. I hadformerly known something of the Chevalier Beauteville, at the castle ofMontmorency; he had shown me marks of esteem; since his appointment tothe embassy he had given me proofs of his not having entirely forgottenme, accompanied with an invitation to go and see him at Soleure. ThoughI did not accept this invitation, I was extremely sensible of hiscivility, not having been accustomed to be treated with such kindness bypeople in place. I presume M. De Beauteville, obliged to follow hisinstructions in what related to the affairs of Geneva, yet pitying meunder my misfortunes, had by his private cares prepared for me the asylumof Bienne, that I might live there in peace under his auspices. I wasproperly sensible of his attention, but without wishing to profit by itand quite determined upon the journey to Berlin, I sighed after themoment in which I was to see my lord marshal, persuaded I should infuture find zeal repose and lasting happiness nowhere but near hisperson. 

On my departure from the island, Kirkeberguer accompanied me to Bienne. I found Wildremet and other Biennois, who, by the water side, waited mygetting out of the boat. We all dined together at the inn, and on myarrival there my first care was to provide a chaise, being determined toset off the next morning. Whilst we were at dinner these gentlemenrepeated their solicitations to prevail upon me to stay with them, andthis with such warmth and obliging protestations, that notwithstandingall my resolutions, my heart, which has never been able to resistfriendly attentions, received an impression from theirs; the moment theyperceived I was shaken, they redoubled their efforts with so much effectthat I was at length overcome, and consented to remain at Bienne, atleast until the spring. 

Wildremet immediately set about providing me with a lodging, and boasted, as of a fortunate discovery, of a dirty little chamber in the back of thehouse, on the third story, looking into a courtyard, where I had for aview the display of the stinking skins of a dresser of chamois leather. My host was a man of a mean appearance, and a good deal of a rascal; thenext day after I went to his house I heard that he was a debauchee, agamester, and in bad credit in the neighborhood. He had neither wife, children, nor servants, and shut up in my solitary chamber, I was in themidst of one of the most agreeable countries in Europe, lodged in amanner to make me die of melancholy in the course of a few days. Whataffected me most was, that, notwithstanding what I had heard of theanxious wish of the inhabitants to receive me amongst them, I had notperceived, as I passed through the streets, anything polite towards me intheir manners, or obliging in their looks. I was, however, determined toremain there; but I learned, saw, and felt, the day after, that there wasin the city a terrible fermentation, of which I was the cause. Severalpersons hastened obligingly to inform me that on the next day I was toreceive an order conceived in the most severe terms, immediately to quitthe state, that is the city. I had nobody in whom I could confide; theywho had detained me were dispersed. Wildremet had disappeared; I heardno more of Barthes, and it did not appear that his recommendation hadbrought me into great favor with those whom he had styled his patrons andfathers. One M. De Van Travers, a Bernois, who had an agreeable housenot far from the city, offered it to me for my asylum, hoping, as hesaid, that I might there avoid being stoned. The advantage this offerheld out was not sufficiently flattering to tempt me to prolong my abodewith these hospitable people. 

Yet, having lost three days by the delay, I had greatly exceeded thetwenty-four hours the Bernois had given me to quit their states, andknowing their severity, I was not without apprehensions as to the mannerin which they would suffer me to cross them, when the bailiff of Nidaucame opportunely and relieved me from my embarrassment. As he had highlydisapproved of the violent proceedings of their excellencies, he thought, in his generosity, he owed me some public proof of his taking no part inthem, and had courage to leave his bailiwick to come and pay me a visitat Bienne. He did me this favor the evening before my departure, and farfrom being incognito he affected ceremony, coming in fiocchi in his coachwith his secretary, and brought me a passport in his own name that Imight cross the state of Berne at my ease, and without fear ofmolestation. I was more flattered by the visit than by the passport, and should have been as sensible of the merit of it, had it had forobject any other person whatsoever. Nothing makes a greater impressionon my heart than a well-timed act of courage in favor of the weakunjustly oppressed. 

At length, after having with difficulty procured a chaise, I next morningleft this barbarous country, before the arrival of the deputation withwhich I was to be honored, and even before I had seen Theresa, to whom Ihad written to come to me, when I thought I should remain at Bienne, and whom I had scarcely time to countermand by a short letter, informingher of my new disaster. In the third part of my memoirs, if ever I beable to write them, I shall state in what manner, thinking to set off forBerlin, I really took my departure for England, and the means by whichthe two ladies who wished to dispose of my person, after having by theirmanoeuvres driven me from Switzerland, where I was not sufficiently intheir power, at last delivered me into the hands of their friend. 

I added what follows on reading my memoirs to M. And Madam, the Countessof Egmont, the Prince Pignatelli, the Marchioness of Mesme, and theMarquis of Juigne. 

I have written the truth: if any person has heard of things contrary tothose I have just stated, were they a thousand times proved, he has heardcalumny and falsehood; and if he refuses thoroughly to examine andcompare them with me whilst I am alive, he is not a friend either tojustice or truth. For my part, I openly, and without the least feardeclare, that whoever, even without having read my works, shall haveexamined with his own eyes, my disposition, character, manners, inclinations, pleasures, and habits, and pronounce me a dishonest man, is himself one who deserves a gibbet. 

Thus I concluded, and every person was silent; Madam d'Egmont was theonly person who seemed affected; she visibly trembled, but soon recoveredherself, and was silent like the rest of the company. Such were thefruits of my reading and declaration.