It is impossible to dwell upon the minutia of his life for the five following years; they were important—they led him through early manhood, and during their course he developed his taste for the acquirement of knowledge—educating himself intellectually and morally, as well as he could, by the light of little else than his own natural reason.
At first, his head was perpetually full of projects for advancement. He made many little journeys to Lyons, Geneva, and Niort, for the sake of prosecuting schemes, which he believed to be fraught with advantages; but which failing each in turn, he returned penniless to his home with madame de Warens. By degrees, however, he fell into a bad state of health. Feeling an inexplicable weakness pervade his frame, he believed he had but a short time to live, and lost his desire for advancement in the languor and bodily inaction produced by disease. His protectress, for the sake of securing a friend at the court of Savoy, rented a house of a Piedmontese noble at Chambery, which no one else would take, being close and damp. In the summer, she escaped from this species of prison to a small country house. Les Charmettes, near Chambery. There, in solitude and tranquillity, Rousseau gave himself up to study. Mathematics and Latin were his principal occupations: he worked hard: there was an inaptitude to remember in him which made knowledge difficult to acquire; but he acquired the power of reflection—he learnt to distinguish his ideas—he recognised moral principles and philosophical truths—he penetrated deeply into the secret springs of human action. Man's nature was often exposed as a map before him—and he knew its various bearings and powers—although he was ill able then, as ever, to control its impulses as they existed within himself.
The confidential domestic of madame de Warens died; and Rousseau, in some sort fulfilling his avocations, discovered the ruin into which his protectress was plunged, through her love of scheming, and the ready ear she gave to every quack and swindler who sought her for the sake of plunder. It became his desire to save her; and, if that were impossible, to make such a fortune as would enable him to be of use to her in his turn.
It is not our intention to enter into the details of Rousseau's connection with this lady. To any one who loves to make a study of human nature, the "Confessions" are an invaluable book, and disclose the secret of many hearts to those who have courage to penetrate into the recesses of their own. But, to be useful, they must be read as they are, with the author's observations and minute anatomy of motive; and a mere abridgment would disgust without advantage. It is not to-day that we have learnt, that it is not true, that when a woman loses one virtue she loses all. The true distinctive virtue of woman's nature is her promptitude to self-sacrifice, and a capacity to bind up her existence in the happiness and well-being of the objects of her attachment. Experience shows us, that as far as a woman does this, and is neither worldly nor depraved, she preserves, in spite of error, the more lovely qualities of her nature. Personal fidelity is the purifier and preserver of the affections; and whoso fails in this, either man or woman, degrades human nature—the glory of which is to ally the sensations of love to the emotions of the heart and the passions of the soul. If we examine the conduct of madame de Warens by this rule, we find her wanting; and whether she be a real personage, and did and felt as Rousseau describes, or an imaginary being, we may pass judgment on her, and assert that the event proves that depravity of conduct led her to fail in fulfilling the duties which the affections impose.
Rousseau, having somewhat recovered his health, returned to his projects for worldly advancement, and his journeys that carried him hither and thither in search of it. On one occasion he visited Montpellier for the sake of consulting a physician; he returned—his hopes of renovated health gone, his resolve to dedicate himself to his benefactress strengthened. He returned, to find another in his place—his friend's heart changed—the paradise he cherished desecrated. He did not the less resolve to serve her. "Reduced," he writes, "to form a fate for myself independent of her, and not being able even to imagine such, I sought it wholly in herself—and I did this so entirely, that I succeeded in almost forgetting myself. The ardent desire of seeing her happy absorbed all my affections. In vain did she separate her happiness from mine; I saw it in hers, in spite of her. Thus the virtues whose seed were in my soul, and which study had matured, began to germinate with my misfortunes, and waited but for the operation of adversity to bud forth." This exalted state of mind, however, could not last. Finding his rival totally unworthy of his attempts to educate him, and that he was plunging the unfortunate madame de Warens deeper in inevitable ruin, he hurried from the scene. The employment of tutor to the children of M. de Mabli, at Lyons, was offered him; he undertook it; but soon became disgusted. At a distance, the tranquil happiness of Les Charmettes recurred to his memory; he began to fancy that he was in fault—that he had but to return to find love and peace. He did return, and the illusion was dispelled for ever. For a short time he gave himself up to study, while he revolved a thousand projects for his future life. Music was still a favourite pursuit. He had invented a method of noting music which he considered more facile and perfect than the one in use. He believed that, if known, it would be generally adopted; and that, if he took it to Paris and showed it to the professors, they would at once perceive its advantages, and his fortune would be made. His imagination speedily warmed with the idea, and he hurried to execute it. "I had brought," he writes, "some money with me from Lyons; I sold my books to acquire a sum sufficient for my journey. My design was taken and executed within the space of fifteen days. In short, full of magnificent ideas—and ever the same in all times—I left Savoy with my system of music, as before I had quitted Turin with my toy fountain."
Rousseau pauses—his biographers usually pause—at this epoch, when he was about to enter on a new life,—leaving the country and solitude for the busy capital of France. He was nine and twenty; his character was formed. The love of adventure, which had first caused his flight from Geneva, had turned into a love of scheming. While censuring madame de Warens for this turn of mind; he little felt how entirely—he participated in it. His life was made up of schemes; which his ardent disposition exalted into passions. The genuine impulses of his soul were; his genius, developed in authorship; his passionate heart; which wasted its fondest impulses on one (madame d'Houdetot) who loved another. These were not schemes; but his stoicism—his hermitism (if this word he allowed)—his independence carried to an extravagant pitch; were all schemes; and succeeded; consequently; as ill as possible. "With this scheming head; a heart yet full of romance; and a mind stored beyond his own knowledge with observation and sagacity; he left every old friend; every old association; and plunged; poor and unknown; into a new life, in the most civilised and most profligate city in the world.
1741.
Ætat.
29.
Rousseau entered Paris this time, as it appeared to him, under good auspices. He found a friendly and cordial welcome from several French ladies, to whom he had letters of introduction. His system of noting music was examined, eulogised, and neglected by the Academy; and Rameau detecting a radical defect, its inventor cast it aside; but he found employment as secretary to madame Dupin and M. Franceuil; and better prospects opened themselves when he was appointed secretary to M. de Montaigu, ambassador to Venice. 1743.
Ætat.
31. Here the influence of an evil destiny was manifest. Had the ambassador been a man of honour and sense, Rousseau might have passed a happy life, fulfilling an honourable career; but M. de Montaigu was avaricious to a degree that made him sacrifice propriety as well as dignity to his saving propensities. "The character of this ambassador," says Bernardin de Saint Pierre, "is well known. I have heard from good authority several traits of his avarice. 'Three shoes,' he often said, 'are equivalent to two pair, because one is sooner worn out than the other;' and he therefore always had three shoes made at a time." This man, silly, insolent, and grasping, crushed the last ambition of Rousseau. He treated him with such indignity that he was forced to leave him. Plundered and ill treated, while every one at Venice at the time was eager to furnish testimonials of his excellent conduct—and his dispatches had merited high praise—he received no compensation from the court he served. The iniquitous maxim of the French government, never publicly to acknowledge the misconduct of those whom it employed, joined to the circumstance that Rousseau was not a Frenchman, sufficed to render his representations of no avail. This thoroughly, and with reason, disgusted him from seeking employment under a system where all worth was trampled on by rank and wealth.
He returned to Paris, and was kindly received by all his friends, with one exception only, of a highborn lady, who could not imagine that a roturier had any right to quarrel with a noble. His friends madame Dupin and M. Franceuil continued their employment; the latter subsequently endeavoured to place him advantageously as cashier in his office, he being farmer-general; but Rousseau could neither rest nor sleep while the money-chest was under his care; and falling ill in consequence, gave up his situation. M. de Franceuil was somewhat alienated by this act; he began to think that there were no means of befriending a man who shrunk from a lucrative and easy employment.
On his first arrival from Venice, Rousseau enjoyed the intimate friendship of an enlightened Spaniard, a man of noble nature and great powers of mind. They agreed to live under the same roof, and allied themselves in the closest friendship. D'Alcuna was recalled to his native country, and Rousseau felt the void. He had been accustomed to domestic society, and in addition he felt that he needed the kind attentions of a woman, and this want led to the fatal act from which sprung so many of his misfortunes.