Part 18

Rousseau, of course, at once quitted the Hermitage. He had a horror of entering Paris: he was greatly embarrassed as to where to go, when M. Mathas, procureur-fiscal to the prince of Condé, hearing of his uncomfortable situation, offered him a small house in his garden of Mont Louis, at Montmorenci: he accepted it at once, and removed thither. But his soul was still in tumults; still passion convulsed his heart, which would not be at peace. He desired to establish a friendship between himself, St. Lambert, and madame d'Houdetot; but they drew back--from the alleged motive that "Rousseau's attachment was the talk of Paris, and that therefore she could not have any intercourse with him." It was likely enough that the old woman, le Vasseur, or twenty others, might have been the cause of this gossip; but Rousseau chose to fix the blame on Diderot, and to quarrel with him outright. Strange that these sensitive men should have so little real affection in their nature that, for the sake of personal offences, real or imagined, they could at once throw off those whom they had loved, as they pretended, so well and so long; showing how much more deeply rooted and engrossing was _self_, than the interests and intercourse of their friends. A few years after, Diderot sought to be reconciled to his former friend; he engaged a mutual acquaintance to mediate between them. Rousseau declined his advances. He replied:--"I do not see what M. Diderot, after seven years' silence, all at once demands of me. I ask nothing of him--I have no disavowal to make. I am far from wishing him ill--and am yet further from doing or saying aught to injure him. I know how to respect the ties of an even extinguished friendship to the end; but I never renew it--that is my inviolable maxim." Rousseau was in exile and misfortune when Diderot made this advance, which was honourable to him; he was doubtless piqued by the refusal; but we cannot excuse him when, many years afterwards, after the death of his friend, he attacked him in one of his works. It would have been better to forget. And gladly would we, in spite of the publicity given, have passed over these details--but that they formed an intrinsic portion of the picture of Rousseau's life; and were the cause why, in after times, he became suspicious even to madness--miserable even to death.

[Sidenote: 1758. Ætat. 46.]

With the new year, Rousseau, quitting the Hermitage, began a new life; as much as an entire casting away of old friends, and seeking fresh ones, can change the tenor of existence. But Rousseau was ever the same. His passions, masked even to himself by their intensity, ruled his destiny; and it was a miserable one. The semblance of tranquillity, however, awaited him at first; and he gave himself to study and authorship uninterruptedly. The "Encyclopædia" undertaken by d'Alembert and Diderot engaged the attention of the literary world: it was made the vehicle of their opinions, and the engine for propagating them. Voltaire was residing at the Délices. He was disgusted by the pedantic, austere, puritanic tone of society at Geneva: he considered the drama as an admirable means of enlightening and refining a people; and, in concert with him, D'Alembert, in his article on "Geneva," wrote in favour of the establishment of a theatre in that city, where hitherto it had been forbidden. Rousseau, in his dreams of primitive innocence, considered this as an innovation on the simple manners of his country-people; and he took up his pen in opposition. He wrote with fervour and eloquence: he detailed the miseries resulting from a sophisticated state of society; and argued that the drama, by treating concerning, nourished the passions, and weakened the principles of morality. In the state in which society was in Paris, he had many arguments in his favour; and he might well consider the introduction of libertinism and luxury as pernicious, contrasted even with the narrow, bigoted spirit reigning at Geneva. The eloquence of his letter gave it vogue. In a note appended, he announced his rupture with Diderot,--accusing him at the same time of betraying him. This was fairly regarded as an unwarrantable attack, though he imagined it to be an act of heroism. It was an error, to make the public a confidant in their quarrel; and the doing so arose from the belief that all the world was occupied with him: but it was worse publicly to accuse a former friend.

Rousseau does his best, in the "Confessions," to show how contented and happy he was in his new abode--the number of friends he still retained--and his delight at being still at a distance from Paris. He, with proper pride, boasts of his contempt for party spirit, and the formation of cabals in literature, in which Paris was rife. Nothing debases literary men more than owning dependence, for praise or blame, on aught but the public at large.

Not far from his abode of Mont Louis was the chateau of Montmorenci, where the marshal duke de Luxembourg, with his family, usually passed the summer. On their first visit after his arrival, they seem courteous messages and invitations; but Rousseau, with proper pride, shunned advances, the nature of which he did not fully comprehend. This occasioned further demonstrations. The duke visited him--he became an habitual guest at the château--rooms were furnished for him in a sort of pleasure-house, or smaller château, in the grounds--and he was treated by the whole family with all that cordial and winning grace peculiar to French persons of rank in those days. He read the "Nouvelle Heloïse" and "Emile" to the duchess, who paid him the most flattering attentions. Both she and her husband displayed warm interest in his fortunes; and the noble, amiable character of the marshal was a pledge that such would prove neither treacherous nor evanescent. They were serviceable, without impertinent interference--kind, without pretension.

This may be considered a happy period in Rousseau's life. The works on which his fame is chiefly founded were finished or composed during these years. The "Nouvelle Heloïse" was published at the end of 1760. With all its errors, this novel is full of noble sentiments and elevated morality--of true and admirable views of life--and an eloquence burning and absorbing. Its success was unparalleled. Parisian society, engrossed by intrigues and follies, yet felt at its core that passion was the root even of these--depraved and distorted as passion was by their social laws and opinions; and, thus brought back to its natural expression, they were carried away by enthusiastic admiration. The women in particular, who are always the losers in a system of heartless gallantry,--since they seldom, if ever, cultivate a love of pleasure destitute of sentiment--as is the case with a number of men,--were charmed by a book which increased their influence by exalting love. Another interest was excited by the notion generally spread, that the book contained the history of the author's early life. Rousseau was identified with St. Preux, and gained by the idea. This work was followed by the "Emile,"--a book that deserves higher praise. That he adopted certain views from Locke and others, who had previously written on education, does not in the least deteriorate from its merit; that, as a system, it is full of faults and impracticability takes little from its utility. He shows the true end of education; and he first explained how children ought to be treated like younger men, not as slaves or automata. His success in casting an odium on the habit of putting infants out to nurse--his admirable aphorism, that children ought to be rendered happy, since childhood is all of life they may ever know--his exhortations to prepare the pupil to be a man in the first place, instead of considering him as a noble or gentleman in embryo--are among the most admirable of his principles. Others may regard the work disparagingly; but every parent who in any degree superintends the education of his offspring--every mother who watches over the health and welfare of her babes--will readily acknowledge the deepest obligations to the author of "Emile."

It fills the soul with bitterness to think that this admirable work, whence generations of men derive wisdom and happiness, was the origin of violent persecution against the author; and, by expelling him from his home, and exposing him bare to the assaults of his enemies, drove him into a state of mind allied to madness, and devoted him to poverty and sorrow to the end of his life.

The printing and publishing of the work had been greatly assisted, not only by the duke and duchess de Luxembourg, but by M. de Malesherbes, a man of known probity and kindness of disposition. Rousseau had a quality, belonging to the warm of heart, and unknown to the cold and dull,--that of desiring to confide in, and to be fully known to, those whom he respected and loved. The benevolent attentions of M. de Malesherbes, even to the whims and groundless suspicions of a man who, from his state of health, believed himself to be dying, and feared to leave his unpublished works in the hands of enemies, evinced that warmth and truth of sympathy which is the golden treasure of human nature, wherever it be found. Won by his benevolence, Rousseau addressed four letters to him, explaining and describing his opinions, motives, and conduct. These letters are, as it were, an introduction to the "Confessions." They are written with the same persuasive eloquence, and passionate love for the good and beautiful, that reigns in the last parts of the "Nouvelle Heloïse," and forms their charm.

He had been ill during the publication of the "Emile," and rendered vehemently anxious by delays of the press. At length the book appeared;--but it bore a stamp to intimidate his admirers and silence their public applause; and it was therefore received more silently than any other of his works. The Confession of the Vicar of Savoy is a declaration of pure deism; and, in particular, is levelled against various pernicious errors of Catholicism. The great foundation stone of papacy is auricular confession, which enables the clergy to put all sins against the ordinances of the church in the first class; and to look on falsehood, treachery, and intolerance, as virtues, when exercised for its sake. The Confession allies religion and morals--makes the Gospel a rule of conduct; and, though it doubts the mysteries of the Christian faith, it speaks of them with reverence, but in a protestant spirit, totally at variance with Catholicism. This portion of his book excited remark, and exposed the author to the persecutions of the French priesthood.

But Rousseau felt perfectly secure. There was nothing said in the Confession of the Vicar of Savoy that had not appeared before in the last part of the "Nouvelle Heloïse." He had himself, notwithstanding these considerations, been exceedingly averse to publishing his work in France: the method then, with any book bringing forward forbidden opinions, being to publish it at Brussels, which sheltered the author from the French laws. But the duchess of Luxembourg and M. de Malesherbes persuaded him to let them undertake an edition in France; and it was brought out at their instigation, against his own conviction: they, therefore, were responsible for his security; and he did not entertain the slightest doubt but that they would provide against his incurring any evil consequences.

It was as the shock of an earthquake, therefore, when, a few days after the publication of the "Emile," he was disturbed in the middle of the night by a message from the duchess of Luxembourg, saying that a decree of arrest of his person would be executed on the following morning, at seven o'clock, if he remained, but that, if he fled, he would not be pursued; and begging him to come to her immediately. It was greatly to the interest of the duchess to get Rousseau away, that the whole affair might be hushed up; since any examinations would betray her connivance in the publication. Rousseau was aware of this. [Sidenote: June. 15. 1762. Ætat. 50.] He saw the duchess agitated;--he felt that, however much he might wish to shield her during his examination, any mistake on his part might compromise her; and he knew his habitual want of presence of mind. He consented at once to fly--he was not allowed to deliberate; the morning was given to preparations and adieus; at four o'clock in the afternoon he departed. His friends were safe--he alone the sufferer.

His first idea was to establish himself in his native town; but this plan was speedily deranged. Nine days after the decree of the parliament of Paris, the council of Geneva, instigated by the French government, sentenced the "Emile" to be burnt, and its author to be imprisoned if he entered their territory. Rousseau might well feel disdain and indignation for the folly and intolerance of his country-people; nor was it in human nature for his heart not to ferment with resentment and scorn at the universal attack levelled against him from all sects, all parties, all countries, on account of a book whose chief pretension was to bear the stamp of impartial truth, and to become (and he succeeded in his attempt) highly beneficial to the human race. Its fault is that it is anti-christian; but the most devout follower of our Saviour, if charitable, must be impressed by the sincerity of the author, and respect the love of truth that dictated his declarations.

Rousseau had arrived at Iverdun, in the canton of Berne. Exiled from Geneva, he resolved to remain there. He had friends; and a house was offered him, which he had accepted--when he heard that the council of Berne had sent an order desiring him to quit their state. Thus persecuted, he had but one resource. Neufchâtel and its territory belongs to the kingdom of Prussia: he believed that he should find toleration at the hands of Frederic the Great.

He found far more in the governor of Neufchâtel--marshal lord Keith, a man eminent for his virtue. Marshal Keith had entertained many false notions with regard to Rousseau; but he was filled with sentiments of benevolence towards him; and the king of Prussia, influenced by him, was desirous of rendering his residence in his stated agreeable. Rousseau refused the offers of a house, and of supplies of wood, corn, wine, &c., which were offered him in lieu of money, as likely to be more readily accepted; indeed, in his "Confessions," he speaks with contempt of these offers, as coming from Frederic: but he acquired the friendship--the affection--of the amiable and benevolent lord Keith; and found in it, while it was spared to him, the consolation of his life.

He took up his residence in the village of Motiers, in the Val-de-Travers, in the comté of Neufchâtel. If we read the correspondence of Voltaire, and other writings of his enemies, we should believe that he lived in a state of habitual warfare;--that his soul, ever in tumults, continually exhaled itself in vituperation and philippics; that he was perpetually engaged in underhand cabals and petty manœuvres. Rousseau disdained to be of any party. He admired Voltaire, as a man of vast genius--but refused to bow before the literary throne on which he had seated himself. This was his crime; and his punishment was the insolent sarcasms and brutal railleries of the great master of wit.

We may turn in all security from such false pictures to the reality, depicted not only in his "Confessions," in his letters, and in his "Promenades d'un Solitaire"--these, as written by himself, might be open to suspicion--but to accounts afforded by impartial persons. Among these, the comte d'Escherney gives an interesting narration of his intercourse. A little distrust was shown on one occasion by the persecuted philosopher, but their friendship, except on this one occasion, was unclouded. The comte habitually dined with Rousseau: he praises his simple table, and the excellent cooking of Thérèse; whom, at the same time, he blames severely for the mischief she did by her unbridled and malicious tongue,--exciting against herself, and consequently against Rousseau, a spirit of dislike in the neighbourhood. He felt this--and at one time wished to remove; but did not put his desire in execution. While at Motiers he addicted himself sedulously to botany. In his herborising expeditions, he was accompanied by M. du Peyrou, an American settled at Bié--an excellent and respectable man, who became his fast friend; by the colonel De Puri, father-in-law of M. du Peyrou--both good botanists; and by the comte--who was obliged to learn the science, not to be thrown out entirely in conversation. Some of these expeditions were extensive; and the comte, after the lapse of years, speaks of them with pleasure, and dwells on the charm thrown over them by the conversation, the genius, the kind heart of Rousseau. The latter had many other friends in the neighbourhood, whom he tenderly loved. He remained at Motiers-Travers three years: he might have spent his life there, honoured, happy, and independent. When we relate the circumstances that drove him from it, we leave to impartial judges to decide whether he were in fault or his persecutors--who, for the most part, _soi-disant_ philosophers and free thinkers, excited the spirit of bigotry against him, and did not hesitate hypocritically to assume the language of religion to destroy him.

Of what was he guilty? The accusations against him are few. The first, that he desired to attain notoriety by assuming the Armenian dress. All singularity in externals is foolish; and, though he excuses himself on the score of convenience, it was certainly unwise in him to dress so as to attract universal observation--especially in a country where the ignorant are easily taught to hate and fear that which they do not understand. But this fault is trivial. His second crime was his participating in the communion. He had re-entered the protestant church, some years before, at Geneva. He announced the greatest respect for the religion of the Gospel; but, as his Confession of a Savoyard Vicar argues against the divine nature of our Saviour, he had better have abstained from making this outward manifestation of orthodox belief.

The fault most urged against him was his renunciation of the citizenship of Geneva. No further attack on him had been made by the government of that city during the space of a year; and, considering the spirit of persecution abroad against him, it had been more prudent to have remained tranquil: but this very spirit, manifested in all writings, in all societies, roused him to assert himself. He had committed no crime, and he was sentenced as guilty. He had endeavoured to persuade his fellow citizens to rescind their decree; various representations were made to the council, not only by himself, but by the citizens and burgesses of Geneva. There could be no evil motive in his desire, or in the attempts he made to be reinstated in his rights in his native city; but this justice was refused him; and with anger and disdain he renounced his claims as citizen, and thus withdrew from their jurisdiction. This act can scarcely be deemed blameable; he, however, was attacked, and the council was defended, in several pamphlets, with acrimony and violence. The chief among these were "Lettres écrites de la Campagne," by M. Tronchin. The talent of the author gained the field fora moment. "Siluit terra!" Rousseau exclaims: no defender rose for him; it was deemed that he alone was able to reply. For a time he refused; but at last yielded to the representations of his friends, and, parodying the title of the attack, brought out his "Lettres écrites de la Montagne." This had no influence over the council: they persisted in their refusal--and even reiterated their decree. From that moment Rousseau declared that he would mingle no more in public affairs;--and he kept his word.

But the mischief was already done. The quarrel between the citizens and council of Geneva, on the subject of the right of the latter to enact decrees without consulting the former, was attended with disturbances and bloodshed. The whole country was in tumults. The "Letters from the Mountain" were more anti-christian than any of his preceding works. The clergy were enraged: the peasantry of Neufchâtel were taught to regard him as a monster; from execration they proceeded to personal attack; stones were thrown at him during his walks--and at last, the ferment arriving at its height, his house was attacked in the night by the country people: it appeared certain that his life was in the utmost danger; the officers of government were disquieted by the apprehension of more fatal disturbances, and the probability of his being assassinated: he himself was sick at heart at finding himself the object of open and loud execration. Resolving to leave Motiers, he felt uncertain whither to go. His Parisian friends had interested David Hume in his behalf, and exhorted him to take up his abode in England. Frederic invited him to Berlin, where the friendship of lord Keith assured him a cordial welcome from at least one friend. He was inclined to a far wilder scheme;--the Corsicans had asked him to frame a code of laws, and he entertained the idea of establishing himself in their island. The sudden necessity of instant removal drove this idea from his mind; and another presented itself that accorded with his tastes. During his botanical rambles he had visited the island of St. Pierre situated in the lake of Bienne, and dependent on the canton of Berne. The aspect of the isle had enchanted him. A difficulty arose, from his having been ordered to quit the state of Berne on first arriving in Switzerland; but, on sounding the chiefs of the state, he was told that they were ashamed of their past conduct, and very willing that he should establish himself at St. Pierre. [Sidenote: 1765. Ætat. 53.] Here, then, in the month of September, he took up his abode: Theresa joined him: they boarded with the receiver of the island, who was its only inhabitant: the profits of his works, and a slight pension allowed him by lord Keith, assured him a frugal subsistence. Recurring, in after years, to his brief residence in this island, he fondly dilates on his excursions on the water--on his botanical studies--on the calm that possessed his soul, and his total indifference to all intercourse with the world. As an excuse for the persecutions he suffered, he is accused of intriguing and creating disturbances even in his solitude; but no facts are mentioned--no proofs are advanced. We cannot, indeed, believe that the morbid spirit of distrust so fatal to his peace, which soon afterwards manifested itself, did not in any degree exist; but there are no letters, no documents, to support the accusations--made principally, indeed, by the _soi-disant_ philosophers--and, above all, by Voltaire, who could not endure that any other than himself should be a subject of interest; and who, more than an infidel--a blasphemer--joined with the most bigoted religionists in persecuting Rousseau.

Rousseau was not permitted long to enjoy the tranquil pleasures of his island residence. Suddenly, without preparation, he received an order from the state of Berne to quit their territory in three days. It was a clap of thunder--he could but obey--again he was a wanderer: some friends implored him to take up his residence at Bienne, an independent town; he almost consented, when a popular tumult, of which he was the object, drove him away.