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Chapitre XV.: Conclusion. - Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau vol. 2 [1915]

Edition used:

The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau, ed. from the original manuscripts and authentic editions, with introductions and notes by C. E. Vaughan. (Cambridge University Press, 1915). In 2 vols. Vol. 2.

Part of: The Political Writings of Jean Jacques Rousseau, 2 vols.

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Chapitre XV.

Conclusion.

Voilà mon plan suffisamment esquissé4 . Je m’arrête. Quel que soit celui qu’on adoptera, l’on ne doit pas oublier ce que j’ai dit dans le Contrat social5 de l’état de faiblesse et d’anarchie où se trouve une nation tandis qu’elle établit ou réforme sa constitution. Dans ce moment de désordre et d’effervescence, elle est hors d’état de faire aucune résistance, et le moindre choc est capable de tout renverser. Il importe donc de se ménager à tout prix un intervalle de tranquillité, durant lequel on puisse sans risque agir sur soi-même et rajeunir sa constitution. Quoique les changements à faire dans la vôtre ne soient pas fondamentaux et ne paraissent pas fort grand1 , ils sont suffisants pour exiger cette précaution; et il faut nécessairement un certain temps pour sentir l’effet de la meilleure réforme et prendre la consistance qui doit en être le fruit2 . Ce n’est qu’en supposant que le succès réponde au courage des Confédérés et à la justice de leur cause, qu’on peut songer à l’entreprise dont il s’agit. Vous ne serez jamais libres, tant qu’il restera un seul soldat russe en Pologne; et vous serez toujours menac s de cesser de l’être, tant que la Russie se mêlera de vos affaires. Mais, si vous parvenez à la forcer de traiter avec vous comme de Puissance à Puissance, et non plus comme de protecteur à protégé, profitez alors de l’épuisement où l’aura jetée la guerre de Turquie, pour faire votre œuvre avant qu’elle puisse la troubler. Quoique je ne fasse aucun cas de la sûreté qu’on se procure au dehors par des traités, cette circonstance unique vous forcera peut-être de vous étayer3 , autant qu’il se peut, de cet appui, 4 ne fût-ce que pour connaître la disposition présente de ceux qui traiteront avec vous4. Mais ce cas excepté, et peut-être en d’autres temps quelques traités5 de commerce, ne vous fatiguez pas à de vaines négociations; 6 ne vous ruinez pas en ambassadeurs et ministres dans d’autres cours6; et ne comptez pas les alliances et traités pour quelque chose. Tout cela ne sert de rien 7 avec les Puissances chrétiennes: elles ne connaissent d’autres liens que ceux de leur intérêt8 . Quand elles le trouveront à rempli9 leurs engagements, elles les rempliront; quand elles le trouveront à les rompre, elles les rompront: autant vaudrait n’en point prendre. Encore, si cet intérêt était toujours vrai, la connaissance de ce qu’il leur convient de faire pourrait faire prévoir ce qu’elles feront, Mais ce10 n’est presque jamais la raison d’État qui les guide: c’est l’intérêt momentané d’un ministre, d’une fille, d’un favori; 1 c’est le motif qu’aucune sagesse humaine n’a pu prévoir, qui les détermine tantôt pour, tantôt contre, leurs vrais intérêts1. De quoi peut-on s’assurer avec des gens qui n’ont aucun système fixe, et qui ne se conduisent que par des impulsions fortuites? Rien n’est plus frivole2 que la science politique des cours. Comme elle n’a nul principe assuré, l’on n’en peut tirer aucune conséquence certaine; et toute cette belle doctrine des intérêts des princes est un jeu d’enfants3 qui fait rire les hommes sensés.

Ne vous appuyez donc avec confiance ni sur vos alliés ni sur vos voisins. Vous n’en avez qu’un sur lequel vous puissiez un peu4 compter: c’est le Grand Seigneur, et vous ne devez rien épargner pour vous en faire un appui. Non que ses maximes d’État soient beaucoup plus certaines que celles des autres Puissances: tout y dépend également d’un vizir, d’une favorite, d’une intrigue de sérail. Mais l’intérêt de la Porte est clair, simple; il s’agit de tout pour elle; et généralement il y règne, avec bien moins de lumières et de finesse5 , plus de droiture et de bon sens. On a du moins avec elle cet avantage de plus qu’avec les Puissances chrétiennes, qu elle aime à remplir ses engagements et respecte ordinairement les traités. Il faut tâcher d’en faire avec elle un6 pour vingt ans, aussi fort, aussi clair, qu’il sera possible. Ce traité, tant qu’une autre Puissance7 cachera ses projets, sera le meilleur, peut-être le seul garant que vous puissiez avoir; et, dans l’état où 8 la présente guerre laissera vraisemblablement la Russie, j’estime qu’il peut vous suffire pour entreprendre avec sûreté votre ouvrage8; d’autant plus que l’intérêt commun des Puissances de l’Europe, et surtout de vos autres voisins, est de vous laisser toujours pour barrière entre eux et les Russes, et qu’à force de changer de folies il faut bien qu’ils soient sages au moins quelquefois9 .

Une chose me fait croire que10 généralement on vous verra sans jalousie travailler à la réforme de votre constitution: c’est que cet ouvrage ne tend qu’à l’raffermissement de la législation, par conséquent de la liberté; et que cette liberté passe dans toutes les cours pour une manie de visionnaires qui tend plus à affaiblir qu’à renforce 1 un État. C’est pour cela que la France2 a toujours favorisé la liberté du Corps germanique et de la Hollande; et c’est pour cela qu’aujourd’hui la Russie favorise le Gouvernement présent de Suéde3 , et contrecarre de toutes ses forces les projets du Roi. Tous ces grands ministres qui, jugeant les hommes en général sur eux mêmes et 4 ceux qui les entourent, croient les connaître, sont bien loin d’imaginer quel ressort l’amour de la patrie et l’élan de la vertu peuvent donner à des âmes libres. Ils ont beau être les dupes de la basse opinion qu’ils ont des Républiques, et y. trouver dans toutes leurs entreprises une résistance qu’ils n’attendaient pas; ils ne reviendront jamais d’un préjugé fondé sur le mépris dont ils se sentent dignes, et sur lequel ils apprécient le genre humain. Malgré l’expérience assez frappante5 que les Russes viennent de6 faire en Pologne, rien ne les fera changer d’opinion. Ils regarderont toujours les hommes libres comme il faut les regarder eux-mêmes: c’est-à-dire, comme des hommes nuls, sur lesquels deux seuls instruments ont prise, savoir l’argent et le knout. S’ils voient donc que la République de Pologne, au lieu de s’appliquer à remplir ses coffres, à grossir ses finances, à lever bien des troupes réglées7 , songe au contraire à licencier son armée et à se passer d’argent, ils croiront qu’elle travaille à s’affaiblir; et, persuadés qu’ils n’auront, pour en faire la conquête, qu’à s’y présenter quand ils voudront, ils la laisseront se régler tout à son aise en se moquant en eux-mêmes de son travail. Et 8 il faut convenir que l’état de liberté ôte à un peuple la force offensive, et qu’en suivant le plan que je propose on doit renoncer à tout espoir de conquête. 9 Mais que, votre œuvre faite, dans vingt ans les Russes9 tentent de vous envahir; et ils connaîtront quels soldats sont pour la défense de leurs foyers ces hommes de paix qui ne savent pas attaquer ceux des autres, et qui ont oublié le prix de l’argent.

Au reste1 , quand vous serez délivrés de ces cruels hôtes, gardezvous de prendre envers le2 Roi qu’ils ont voulu vous donner aucun parti mitigé. Il faut ou lui faire couper la tête, comme il l’a m rité, ou, sans avoir égard à sa première élection, qui est de toute nullité, l’élire de nouveau avec d’autres pacta conventa, par lesquels vous le ferez renoncer à la nomination des grandes places. Le second parti n’est pas seulement le plus humain, mais le plus sage3 ; j’y trouve même une certaine fierté généreuse qui peut être mortifiera bien autant la cour de Pétersbourg que si vous faisiez une autre élection. Poniatowski fut très criminel, sans doute peut-être aujourd’hui n’est-il plus que malheureux4 : du moins dans la situation présente, il me paraît se conduire assez comme il doit le faire, en ne se mêlant de rien du tout. Naturellement il doit au fond de son cœur désirer ardemment l’expulsion de ses durs maîtres. Il y aurait peut-être un héroïsme patriotique à se joindre, pour les chasser, aux Confédérés; 5 mais on sait bien que Poniatowski n’est pas un héros5. D’ailleurs6 , outre qu’on ne le laisserait pas faire et qu’il est gardé à vue infailliblement, devant tout aux Russes7 , je déclare franchement que, si j’étais à sa place, je ne voudrais pour rien au monde être capable de cet héroïsme-là.

Je sais bien que ce n’est pas là le roi qu’il vous faut quand votre réforme sera faite; mais c’est peut-être celui qu’il vous faut pour la faire tranquillement. Qu’il vive seulement encore huit ou dix ans, votre machine alors ayant commencé d’aller, et plusieurs Palatinats étant déjà remplis par des Gardiens des lois, vous n’aurez pas peur de lui donner 8 un successeur qui lui ressemble8: mais j’ai peur, moi, qu’en le destituant simplement, vous ne sachiez qu’en faire, et que vous ne vous exposiez à de nouveaux troubles

De quelque embarras néanmoins9 que vous puisse9 délivrer sa libre élection, il n’y faut songer qu’après s’être bien assuré de ses véritables dispositions, et dans la supposition qu’on lui trouvera encore quelque bon sens, quelque sentiment d’honneur, quelque amour pour son pays, quelque connaissance de ses vrais intérêts, et quelque désir de les suivre. Car en tout temps, et surtout dans la triste situation où les malheurs de la Pologne vont la laisser, il n’y aurait rien pour elle de plus funeste que d’avoir un traître à la tête du Gouvernement.

Quant à la manière d’entamer l’œuvre dont il s’agit, je ne puis go ter toutes les subtilités qu’on vous propose pour surprendre et tromper en quelque sorte la nation sur les changements à faire à ses lois1 . Je serais d’avis seulement, en montrant votre plan dans toute son étendue, de n’en point commencer brusquement l’exécution par remplir la République de mécontents; de laisser en place la plupart de ceux qui y sont; de ne conférer les emplois selon la nouvelle réforme qu’à mesure qu’ils viendraient à vaquer. N ébranlez jamais trop brusquement la machine2 . Je ne doute point qu’un bon plan une fois adopté ne change même l’esprit de ceux qui auront eu part au Gouvernement sous un autre, Ne pouvant créer tout d’un coup de nouveaux citoyens, il faut commencer par tirer parti de ceux qui existent; et offrir une route nouvelle à leur ambition, c’est le moyen de les disposer à la suivre.

Que si, malgré le courage et la constance des Confédérés et malgré la justice de leur cause, la fortune et toutes les Puissances les abandonnent, et livrent la patrie à ses oppresseurs . . .Mais je n’ai pas l’honneur d’être Polonais, et, dans une situation pareille à celle où vous êtes, il n’est permis de donner son avis que par son exemple.

Je viens de remplir, selon la mesure de mes forces, et plût à Dieu que ce fût avec autant de succès que d’ardeur3 , la tâche que M. le comte Wielhorski m’a imposée. Peut-être tout ceci n’est-il qu’un tas de chimères; mais voilà mes idées, Ce n’est pas ma faute si elles ressemblent si peu à celles des autres hommes; et il n’a pas dépendu de moi d’organiser ma tête d’une autre façon. J’avoue même que, quelque singularité qu’on leur trouve, je n’y vois rien, quant à moi, que de bien adapté au cœur humain, de bon de praticable, surtout en Pologne; m’étant appliqué dans mes vues à suivre l’esprit de cette République, et à n’y proposer que le moins de changements que j’ai pu, pour en corriger les défauts. Il me semble qu’un Gouvernement monté sur de pareils ressorts doit marcher à son vrai but aussi directement, aussi sûrement, aussi longtemps, qu’il est possible; n’ignorant pas au surplus que tous les ouvrages des hommes sont imparfaits, passagers et périssables comme eux.

J’ai omis à dessein beaucoup d’articles très importants, sur lesquels je ne me sentais pas les lumières suffisantes pour en bien juger. Je laisse ce soin à des hommes plus éclairés et plus sages que moi; et je mets fin à ce long fatras en faisant à M. le comte Wielhorski mes excuses de l’en avoir occupé si longtemps1 . Quoique je pense autrement que les autres hommes, je ne me flatte pas d’être plus sage qu’eus, 2 ni qu’il trouve dans mes rêveries rien qui puisse être réellement utile à sa patrie. Mais mes vœux pour sa prospérité2 sont trop vrais, trop purs, trop désintéressés, pour que l’orgueil d’y contribuer puisse ajouter à mon zèle. Puisse-t-elle triompher de ses ennemis, devenir, demeurer paisible, heureuse et libre, donner un grand exemple à l’univers, et, profitant des travaux patriotiques de M. le comte Wielhorski, trouver et former dans son sein beaucoup de citoyens qui lui ressemblent3 !

The pencilled corrections of the Reviser begin again here.

EPILOGUE

The présent war has flashed a fierce light upon many problems of political philosophy; upon none more insistently than those which lie at the root of all: What are the rights of the State as against its members? What are the rights and duties of the individual State towards other States and, through them, towards mankind?

To these questions the individualist has a simple answer. The State has no rights as against its members. It has only the duty of protecting them: a duty which, it must at once be admitted, carries with it the right of coercing such of its members as disturb the peace or property of the rest. As towards other States, it should either keep itself out of relation to them altogether—and this would seem the only absolutely consistent principle for the iadividualist to adopt—or, at the most, its rights extend solely to résistance against all forms of forcible aggression and to the protection so far as lies in its power, of the life and property of such of its members as engage in trade or travel in foreign parts. There is, indeed, a third course which the individualist might conceivably take. It is to plead boldly that, as States are purely ‘artificial persons,’they have no rights and no duties as against each other; that to each other they are simply in the’ state of nature; that therefore each is entitled to molest, harry and destroy its neighbours up to the furthest limits of its power. Nothing could illustrate more clearly the inherent contradictions of the individualist principle than the fact that three such incompatible constructions can be placed upon it: nothing, except the further fact that all three may be found jostling one another in the minds and on the lips of those who profess the individualist creed.

We turn to the opposite extreme: to the whole-hearted champions of what Fichte called the ‘absolute State.’ Of all the ideas represented by this ominous phrase Fichte himself is the noblest and most clear-sighted exponent. And at this moment his works have a spécial value, because they are manifestly the arsenal from which the later prophets of German nationalism, doubtless with many fantastic embellishments of their own, have drawn their heaviest artillery. His statement of the case is to be found in two courses of Lectures delivered in Berlin, the one two years before, the other a year after, the crushing humiliation of Jena Die Grundzüge des gegenwärtigen Zeitalters (1804–5), and the better known, though in fact less remarkable, utterance, Reden an die deutsche Nation (1807–8).

To both questions before us Fichte—at least, in principle—returns an uncompromising answer. As the embodiment of Right and reason—and it is as such alone that he deigns to speak of it—the State, he urges, has unlimited rights both against its own members and against other States.

It has so against its own members. To him, as to Rousseau, the’ surrender ‘of the individual member—it is significant that he invariably uses the harsher term,’ subjection’—is total and absolute. It is so in a much harsher and more sinister sense than it is to Rousseau himself. For, on the one hand, the qualifications with which Rousseau subsequently fences in the sweeping assertion of his opening chapters are conspicuously wanting in his successor. And on the other, Fichte scornfully brushes aside the demand for a popular control of the Government, which lies at the root of the whole theory of Rousseau. What the constitutional form of Government adopted may be, he argues, is of no importance. Once establish the State on the true basis, the basis of Right and reason; and the community has every guarantee for the justice and wisdom of its policy that can be desired1 . All else is mere machinery: machinery beneath which the living spirit and the true ends of the State may easily be stifled. Experience, to say nothing of common sensé, tells a different tale. Had Fichte been more ready to listen to it, he would have seen that, in his very dread of machinery, he was reducing the State to a machine of which the whole life and driving power was centred in the Government, while the community at large was nothing better than a dead mass of iron and steel. Or, to employ a metaphor more congenial to Rousseau, he would have recognised that, in treating the Ruler as shepherd, he was taking the surest way to reduce the nation to a flock of sheep. Had Germany but been brave enough to denounce the fallacy, she might have been spared all the mistakes and miseries of the last hundred years.

No less unlimited are the rights of the State as against its neighbours Between one nation and another, he holds, there is always either actually or virtually, a state of war: the war of all against all which Hobbes decreed to the individual in the state of nature. And to Fichte, as to Hobbes, the cardinal virtues of that condition, however much he may strive to conceal it, are force and fraud. ‘It is the natural tendency of every civilised State ‘he says, ‘to widen its borders on every side and to take up all avallable territory into its own civic unity. So it was in ancient history . . ..And in modern times, as each State has acquired inward strength and as the power of the Church, whose interest it was to divide Christendom, has been gradually broken, this tendency to set up an universal Monarchy over the whole of Christendom was bound to reveal itself . . ..Hence it is that every State strives either to assert its rule over Christendom, or, falling that to win the power of doing so at some future time: to maintain the balance of power, that is, in case another State seeks to disturb it; and, in dead secret, to secure the chance of disturbing it hereafter on its own account. Such is the natural and necessary course of events, whether it be admitted, whether it even be consciously realised, or no1 .’ The strong, that is, will take the way of force, and the weak the way of fraud. In either case they will be doing nothing more than what is dictated by ‘nature and necessity.’ A few further touches, and the gospel of Fichte will have become the ‘perfect law of liberty’ proclaimed by Treitschke.

Yet, even as he utters this counsel of despair, there are two concessions which he is willing to make. The first is that, among Christian nations at any rate—Heathens and Mussulmans are apparently for ever to be left in outer darkness—there is to be no such thing as a war of extermination1 : a relief for which, under present circumstances, it would seem that we must be thankful. The second is the admission that, though ‘natural and necessary ‘under present conditions, this gospel of hatred must not be regarded as the ultimate ideal; that the plea of Kant and Rousseau for a ‘perpetual peace’ of Europe may still be nursed as a dream for the far future. ‘It has been my task to point out,’ he writes, ‘that, when a State has once reduced a people beneath its sway, though it will never restore their independence, it will yet refuse for ever to use them merely for the narrow-spirited purposes of its own preservation, purposes which, after all, have been thrust upon it solely by the fault of the times; and that, when once the perpetual peace (to which, surely, the world must come at last) has been established, it will employ them for worthier ends2 . ‘It is perhaps, not much. But it is more than could be found in the revised gospel, as preached by Treitschke. And the gulf which parts the two men would be yet more apparent, if this were the place to set forth the whole argument of thèse mémorable lectures.

What is the spirit in which Rousseau meets the two questions under consideration? How far can we find in him the answer of which we are in need?

As to the first of them—What are the rights of the State as against its members?—his answer, at least on the first shewing, is liable to grave abuse. To him, as to Fichte, the’ surrender’ of the individual is ‘total and absolute.’ And he seems to clinch that surrender still further, when he explicitly denies the right of individual citizens to associate themselves for any private or ‘partial’ purpose, within the boundaries of the State. This is to deny to the State the only instrument by which, humanly speaking, progress is possible. It is to leave the individual at the mercy of a will which may, in name, be that of the community; but which, in fact, is only too likely to be the will of an aggressive section forcing its purposes, sometimes from the best of motives, upon the rest.

So far, it might be said that there is nothing to choose between him and Fichte; or even, inasmuch as the Grundzüge is entirely silent on the matter of association, that the advantage rests with Fichte This, however, would be to leave out of the reckoning the various qualifications which, at a later stage of his argument, Rousseau does not fall to introduce: his assertion that the State is not entitled to exact from the subject anything beyond what is necessary for its service; his admission that, when once the demands of the ‘civil religion’ have been satisfied, the State has no right to take further cognisance of opinion; with the inevitable consequence that, in so far as they do not challenge its supremacy, all forms of religious dogma and all types of religions community lie beyond the purview of the State.

With the limitation just mentioned, this leaves the whole field of opinion free. With the same limitation, it also removes the ban upon association for religious and intellectual—though not, it would seem, for political or for any other kindred—purposes. And this, in itself, is a heavy retrenchment on the sacrifices which, in the first instance, it seemed likely that the individual would be called upon to make.

But there are other qualifications which cut yet deeper than this. The only State which Rousseau has in view is the State of which every member is fired with a resolute craving for the welfare of the whole: the State in which the ‘general will’is, so far as may be, the ‘will of all,’It may be that this is an ideal never to be realised wholly, and seldom even in part; and it is probable that Rousseau himself was under no illusions on that matter. But it cannot be denied that this was his ideal; nor that, in so far as it is realised, the objections which are commonly cast against his theory must necessarily lose the sharpness of their sting. The individual will which he seeks to foster is the will which loses itself in that of the whole body; the general will which he has in mind is not that which overrides, but that which has inspired and penetrated itself with, the needs and interests of the members taken as a whole. In such a State, so long as it remains such, there can be little fear that the majority will trample upon the just claims of the minority; no fear at all that a minority will ride rough-shod over the will or needs of the majority. Respect for the ‘equity’in which Rousseau finds the test and seal of the ‘general will’should bar the way to the former evil. The existence of a keen public spirit, giving life to all parts of the community, will exclude the latter. Add to this the injunction, so often repeated by Rousseau, that no law is valid which does not apply equally to all members of the community. Add further his avowed expectation that the number of laws in a well ordered State will be comparatively small. All these things go to lessen the chances of high-handed legislation. All conspire to give security that the individual is little likely to suffer oppression, though he is inevitably and rightly bound to suffer inconvenience, from his’ surrender’to the State.

There is yet another check on oppression which no estimate of the general scope of Rousseau’s doctrine can afford to overlook. With all his austerity, the individualist in him was never wholly exorcised by the collectivist. It breaks out again and again in the Économie politique; it breaks out in the Contrat social1 ; it breaks out in the Lettres de la Montagne. Even his last utterance, the Gouvernement de Pologne, betrays at least one trace of it, in his partial defence of the Liberum Veto and the right of Confederation. Such outbreaks may be disconcerting enough to logic. But they have a double significance. They are a guarantee that, had fate called him to govern, the author of the second Discourse would not have pushed to extremities the collectivist austerities of the Contrat social. And they bear witness to the difficulty—a difficulty which no thinker has yet entirely overcome—of providing a speculative adjustment between the antagonist claims of the State and the individual; of settling in theory, what, after all perhaps, is only to be settled, if at all, by the rough and ready way of practice: the eternal conflict between the moi humain and the moi commun, between the ‘individual’and the ‘corporate’ self.

Compare this, in its total effect, with the blank outline, the formless idea, of the State—the ‘absolute State,’the ‘State of Eight and reason’—conceived by Fichte. In the civic ideal of Rousseau, we have the guarantee of a Law, defined as the living voice of equity2 , and imposed not from above but by the ‘general will ‘freely expressing itself, of the community at large. We have the still surer guarantee of a keen corporate life which Works, as alone it can work, through the passionate devotion of the individual members to the State which their own will has founded and which only their own will can maintain. Finally, we have the assurance that the powers of the State will be devoted not to the senseless and corrupting task of enlarging its borders at the expense of others, but to the welfare and ennoblement of its own members. And what that means to the health and soundness of a nation’s character, is a lesson writ large, by contraries, in history: not least, in the history of the present day.

On all these points, Fichte’s answer is precisely the reverse. The nature of the Law to be instituted is left without a word of d finition. It is imposed from above, and administered with no check from the community as a whole. The individual members of the community are mere machines in the grip of an all-powerful Government. And the main function of the State—the only function upon which Fiehte dwells at any length—is not to preserve peace, but to wage incessant war. It may please him to call this the State of ‘Right and reason.’But we have nothing more than his word for the description. And the results, as exemplified in the history of Prussia, are not encouraging.

Thus, even with regard to the first question—the rights of the State as against its individual members—Rousseau is far from accepting the doctrine of the ‘absolute State.’And when he passes to the second question, when he comes to define the rights of the State as against its neighbours, he is at once seen to be further yet.

It is true that, in his blind worship of Rome, he condones, if he does not actually applaud, the fatal policy which, in the end, made her mistress of the world and at the same time, ‘with the end of her greatness, marked out the inevitable moment of her fall 1 .’And this, if we could suppose it to represent his settled opinion, would logically involve the acceptance of Fichte’s gospel in its fullest extent. But, as with most other men, it is clear that the standard he applied to the ancient world differs widely from that by which he judged the actions of modern States; and there is justice in the distinction. As to modern times, his verdict is unwavering. From the early État de guerre to his final utterance on Poland, he never falters in the conviction that ‘war is, with tyranny, one of the two worst scourges of mankind’; and among the deadliest evils which it brings in its train is the tyranny with which it is coupled in this unsparing condemnation. This tyranny, he urges, may be directed either against the conquering despot’s own’ subjects,’ or against the nation whom they unite to trample under foot: more probably, against both of them together. In either case, the war, which is at once the cause and consequence of the tyranny, is equally hateful in itself and equally fatal in its results.

The sole war that he is prepared to justify is the war of selfdefence: the war which is waged on behalf of the one object that stands yet higher than peace; the war which is waged for independence, for protection against tyranny, for the right of each community to shape its own destiny, to ‘maintain the social order’ which it has deliberately chosen and which is ‘the base of all its remaining rights1 .’

The ideal of Fichte, as we have seen, is ‘universal monarchy’: the domination of one State over the whole of Christendom, That of Rousseau is national independence, with a strong preference for the small, rather than the large, State as the unit. And this preference is determined by the deep conviction that only in the small State is to be found the keen public spirit which to him is, or ought to be, the end and object of every political association. Hence the large part which Federation, as the only security for the integrity of the small State, plays in his political speculations; from the État de guerre, which was probably among the earliest of his writings, to the Gouvernement de Pologne, which fitly closes the whole list. Yet behind this faith in the small State—a matter upon which it is often lightly assumed that the verdict of history has gone finally against him—there lies, and he was well aware of it, the wider, the yet more fundamental question of international Right. To Fichte, if he were to be judged solely by the Griundzüge, there is no such thing. That each State should strive, by force or fraud, to ‘draw all the others into its own civic unity’is, to him, the law of ‘nature and neeessity.’ And Germany, to her undying shame, has done her best to better his instruction. Once more, it is to Rousseau that we must turn to vindicate the conscience of mankind. To him, every State—the smallest as well as the largest, the largest as well as the smallest—has the inalienable right to shape its own ends and, as the first condition of this, to maintain its own integrity and independence. And, if any other State interferes with that freedom, it commits the foulest of wrongs. ‘If any creed,’he urges, ‘becomes exclusive and tyrannical, if it makes a nation bloodthirsty and intolerant, so that it breathes nothing but threatenings and slaughters and thinks to do a holy deed in killing all who will not accept its gods and its laws, that creed is bad. It is not lawful to cement the bonds of a single community at the cost of the rest of mankind1 .’The words were written of the old national religions; but they have a wider application, which suggests itself but too readily to the mind. It has been the misery of Germany that, for the last fifty years, she has persistently sought to ‘cement her own unity’—or rather, to increase her own material strength—at the cost of the moral rights of mankind.

The State has a double duty: to its own citizens within; to other communities without. How, according to the two writers before us, is this twofold task to be fulfilled?

As to the former duty, both are agreed that self-sacrifice on the part of the citizens is the first thing needful for the health, and even the very existence, of the State. Neither of them—but Fichte far less than Rousseau—is alive enough to the necessity of providing practical safeguards against the tyranny of the State. Here, however, the resemblance between them ends. To Fichte, the citizen is a passive instrument in the hands of the State, or rather of the Government which usurps the name and functions of the State; and it is with the latter that rests the sole right of determining the purposes for which the instrument shall be used. To Rousseau, the citizen is active, or he is nothing; and the State which should consist of obedient dummies would be no State at all. For this conviction, which lies at the core of his whole civic faith, there are two reasons to assign. The acceptance of it is, in his view, as necessary to the citizen as to the State. For the latter, it is the only security possible against the blindness of sovereign aristocracies and the inconceivable follies of monarchs. For the former, the passion of public service, widely spread and eagerly cherished, is, of all boons, the highest which the State has to offer. To those peoples, who have never had the courage or the wisdom to strive for it, the loss will seem as nothing; perhaps it will be taken for a gain. But it is just that which is their punishment: the judicial blindness which for ever denies to them ‘the most heroic of all passions,’which for ever forbids them to ‘know more happiness than this their present lot.’

As to the duty of the State towards its neighbours, the variance between the two writers is complete. To Fichte, the ideal of each State is limitless aggrandisement; and the chief means to that ‘natural and necessary’end is war. The consequence, though he never puts it in so many words, is inevitable: there is no place left for international Eight. Reverse this dismal doctrine, and we have the creed of Rousseau. Respect for the rights of others is the first duty of each State. A ‘perpetual peace,’with guarantees for its permanent maintenance, is the ideal for which all should strive and which, but for the folly of their rulers, all might realise to-morrow1 . A policy of self-aggrandisement is as fatal to the conquering State as it is unjust and humiliating to the conquered. The only war to be tolerated is the war of defence against an invader from without, or from a tyrant within. A policy of offensive wars, in addition to its countless other evils, invariably carries with it, as it did to Rome of old, as it has done in recent times to each nation in turn that has adopted it, the scourge of despotism and oppression.

With each writer, the one side of the theory necessarily follows from the other. With Rousseau, we have an ideal of self government and of corporate, if not individual, freedom within; of respect for the rights and freedom of others without. With Fichte, the sacrifice of the individual, to exalt the State whatever be the nature of the ends which it pursues, within; the sacrifice of all other nations, to enlarge its own territory and secure its own domination, without. The latter is the logical outcome of the doctrine of the ‘absolute State.’It is the ideal—say rather the nightmare—of the drill-sergeant or dragoon. It is the flat negation of all freedom and all Right.

Such is the conflict between the ideals of Rousseau and of Fichte. It is not a conflict between the spirits of the two nations. For there was a time when the nobler minds of Germany took the creed of the French writer, the man to whom France was a second country, for their own. Among the torch-bearers of that higher and truer Germany was the greatest thinker Germany has brought forth. Kant, who died in the very year in which Fichte proclaimed his gloomy gospel, was proud to call himself the disciple of Rousseau2 . And Kant, no less than Rousseau, would have rejected the creed of Fichte with loathing and contempt. What would he have said to the doctrines, and what to the practical infamies not obscurely connected with them, which find favour with Germany at the present moment?

APPENDIX I

AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL FRAGMENTS.

  • A.Original close ofLettres de la Montagne, v. [MS. Neuchâtel, 7840.]
  • B.Early versions of the opening ofLes Confessions. [Geneva MS, f. 229. Neuchâtel MS, 7843.]
  • C.Two fragments on art. [MSS. Neuchâtel, 7854 and 7840.]
  • D.Conclusion of the original manuscript of theDialogues. [British Museum, Add. MSS., 4925.]
  • E.Fragments intended forRêveries du promeneur solitaire. [MS. Neuchâtel, 7872.]

∗A MS. 7840, pp. 22–3. End ofLettre v. de laMontagne, as originally written.

[The preceding paragraph ends ‘et de punir la raison? la mienne s’y perd ‘(Hachette, III. 196), i.e. that which begins ‘Une des choses qui me donnent le plus de confiance’—the passage about Voltaire having preceded. An entirely different close was substituted for this in the final version.]

Eh! loin que la confiance que j’ai quelquefois dans mes sentiments soit insultante pour ceux des autres, à peine est-elle affirmative et jamais elle n’est obstinée. 1 J’avais à peine pris le premier pas dans la triste carrière, qu’on m’a fait parcourir entre les bûchers et les feux, que je me vis attaquer de toutes parts. Jeune auteur encore, quoiqu’homme déjà mûr, je me défendis d’abord avec l’impétuosité2 de la première ferveur. Le public ne jugea pas que je m’en tirasse mal et que je fusse dépourvu des talents polémiques. Je3 renonçai toutefois1 bientôt à leur usage. Je sentis que la dispute troublait l’âme, en substituant l’amour-propre à l’amour de la vérité, et qu’il était impossible d’y conserver toujours la même bonne foi. Il y a plus de dix ans que je pris publiquement congé de mes adversaires2 et, renonçant à des combats pour lesquels3 je n’étais point fait, je pouvais dire comme Entelle:

Victor cestus artemque repono4 .

Je puis ajouter que jamais engagement ne fut pris de meilleur cœur et ne coûta moins à remplir. Depuis ce temps, à chaque ouvrage que j’ai publié, quelle foule d’agresseurs ne5 sont point venus à la charge? que d’injures ne m’a-t-on point dites6 ? quels sots raisonnements n’a-t-on point employés? quelle justice, quelle décence, a-t-on montrée7 , sitôt qu’il a été question de moi? M’a-t-on vu prendre une seule fois la plume pour répondre? m’a-t-on vu me fâcher des torts que l’on me faisait.? m’a-t-on vu soutenir mes sentiments8 en aucune manière? Non! j’ai tout laissé dire, j’ai tout laissé faire; et je me suis tenu tranquille aussi longtemps qu’on m’y a laissé. De nouvelles réflexions9 m’ont affermi dans ces dispositions paisibles10 . En comparant mes raisonnements à ceux des autres, ma manière de voir aux leurs, j’ai senti que nous ne nous accorderions de la vie; que, si leurs cœurs étaient tous de bonne foi, leur tête était autrement faite que la mienne; que par conséquent rien n’était moins utile entre nous que de disputer sans s’entre-convaincre, puisqu’il faudrait qu’un des disputeurs prêtât à l’autre son cerveau, pour11 voir les choses comme il les voit lui-même.

Cette réflexion m’en fit naître une autre, plus utile encore et plus importante au repos des hommes, s’ils savaient s’en pénétrer, comme moi. C’est que nul de nous ne sait si la vérité qu’il voit, ou qu’il croit voir, est bien réellement celle qui existe. 12 Si la raison universelle passe dans le cerveau d’un homme comme dans une filière12, si elle se moule pour ainsi dire sur son organisation, comment peut-il s’assurer que sa filière est meilleure que celle d’un autre et de tous les autres? et que par conséquent il voit seul la vérité? Pour s’assurer d’elle, il faudrait avoir au moins un autre terme de comparaison; mais chacun n’a que le sien et veut le donner pour règle à tous les autres, qui ont aussi chacun le leur. Quelle injustice, quelle ineptie! Je me vois seul de mon sentiment; et il est vrai que, quant à moi, je le trouve d’une évidence dont rien n’approche. Mais si les autres ne le voient pas ainsi, ce qui n’est démontré que pour moi ne saurait l’être pour eux1 .

Ainsi2 c’est en vain, s’ils le rejettent, que je voudrais le leur faire adopter. Si je le crois utile aux hommes, mon devoir est de le leur proposer; je dois leur dire aussi mes raisons afin qu’ils les examinent et puis qu’ils jugent. Après cela, tout est dit. Soit qu’ils m’écoutent ou non, qu’ils disputent ou qu’ils se taisent, qu’ils s’échauffent ou qu’ils se calment, qu’ils m’en sachent3 bon ou mauvais gré, je n’ai plus qu’à rester tranquille; mon devoir est rempli, ma tâche est faite; le reste les regarde, et non pas moi4 .

Voilà la manière de penser sur laquelle, depuis qu’elle m’est venue, j’ai tâché de conformer ma conduite à tous égards. J’ai toujours fui les débats et la dispute. Je n’ai jamais été disputeur, chicaneur. Je n’ai jamais attaqué personne sans une absolue nécessité5 ; et quand j’y ai été entraîné malgré moi, je me suis6 borné aux sentiments, et j’ai toujours7 traité honorablement les hommes. Cependant j’avoue avoir pris quelquefois dans mes premières feuilles un l’on tranchant et sententieux, bien moins par goût que par imitation. C’était le ton à la mode, et je m’y conformais sans y songer. Mais voyez mes derniers écrits; ceux même pour lesquels on me traite avec tant de barbarie. Que de précautions n’y prends-je point pour ne pas m’ériger en juge, et pour ne pas prétendre faire autorité8 ! Je ne9 dois pas répéter ce que j’ai dit là-dessus. Mais, sur l’objection de m’ériger en prophète et réformateur, considérez, je vous prie, ma manière de vivre en toute chose et concevez-en, si vous pouvez, une plus éloignée des pratiques1 , des machinations, que me reproche l’auteur des Lettres. Je laisse mes livres courir’leur fortune, sans m’en mêler en quoi que ce soit. Qu’on adopte ou rejette mes opinions, c’est la chose dont je me soucie le moins. Qu’on me réfute, je laisse dire. Qu’on m’insulte, je ne m’en émeus pas. Qu’on m’accuse d’être rempli de contradictions, de folies, de n’avoir qu’un petit mélange de mots bien agencés, je ris et je laisse rire. Je me retiens dans mon coin le plus que je puis. Je ne cherche point à faire l’orateur, le convertisseur; je n’ai pas fait un seul prosélyte, je ne tournerais pas le pied pour en faire un2 . Je suis seul de mon parti sur la terre. Cela est clair. Voit-on que je m’en fâche, et que je me tourmente beaucoup pour gagner des sectaires3 ?

Si j’en avais voulu faire, j’aurais donc été le premier fou4 qui n’en ait pu venir à bout. Mais qui sait où est la vérité5 ? Je vois un objet que je prends pour elle; c’est la vérité pour moi et pour ceux qui verront comme moi; il ne l’est pas pour un autre: voilà la vérité6 . Mais personne ne voit comme moi; à la bonne heure. Ma vérité n’est pas la leur. Mais restons tous tranquilles dans nos sentiments, en attendant que la suprême raison nous éclaire. Restons tous dans nos principes; mais ne punissons personne pour avoir dit le sien! Voilà ma règle. Je me défends, parce qu’on attaque ma personne. Il faut bien que je me justifie des crimes que l’on m’impute et pour lesquels on me persécute, lorsque je ne les ai pas commis. Mais il ne faut que je fasse7 faire de mes opinions la règle de celles des autres; et c’est aussi ce qu’assurément je ne fais pas. Je suis tolérant par principe, et je ne connais de vrai tolérant que moi. Car je n’ai jamais su mauvais gré à personne de ne pas penser comme moi. La seule chose que je ne1 tolère pas, c’est la méchanceté, la mauvaise foi; parce que la méchanceté est nuisible aux autres; parce que la mauvaise foi est un mensonge, une insulte contre la vérité, qui retombe sur ses partisans. Avec ces conditions, je parle sans me contraindre, parce que je ne veux jamais faire loi2 .

∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

Comme il n’y a rien dans mon cœur que je doive cacher, je dis ouvertement et franchement ce que je sens3 . Je n’emploie ni ménagement ni détour. Je sens que l’intention n’en a pas besoin; et cette4 intention se montre5 . Voilà ce que l’auteur des Lettres appelle être imprudent et maladroit. Quoi qu’il m’en arrive, j’aime mieux être droit qu’adroit.

Tout cela n’a pas trop l’air, ce me semble, d’un Prophète, d’un Missionnaire, d’un envoyé de Dieu qui vient, la foudre à la main, précipiter dans les flammes éternelles quiconque ne pense pas comme lui. Ce sont vos gens qui font les prosélytes et qui prononcent leurs oracles du ton des organes du Tout-puissant. Ce sont eux qui se chargent de le venger, contre sa défense, de ceux qui ne l’offensent point. Ils osent interpeller les consciences sur les traitements qu’ils me font, comme s’ils n’avaient pas contre eux, dans Genève même, ce qu’il y a d’hommes justes et véritablement adorant 6 Dieu.

Et en conscience7 ! en mon tour! Voyez de quel côté sont la probit, la piété, l’amour des lois, la vertu, Voyez parmi les Représentants l’élite respectable de vos plus dignes citoyens, qui ont conservé la religion, les mœurs et les sentiments de leurs ancêtres. Interrogez toujours, interrogez le vertueux Abauzit8 ! Vous les voyez eux-mêmes, qui ne pensent pas comme moi, prendre ouvertement ma cause, parce qu’ils ne croient pas qu’erreur soit un crime; parce que nous sommes d’accord sur tout ce qui nous importe et qui devait nous unir: sur les devoirs de l’homme, du chrétien, du citoyen. À qui d’entre vous importe le reste?

Je répugne à parler de mes adversaires, je répugne toujours à personnaliser. Je ne dirai point s’ils ont de la religion, s’ils n’en ont pas. Mais je dirai hardiment que vouloir la venger par des injustices, par des mensonges, par des noirceurs, par des persécutions, par des crimes, c’est là vraiment l’attaquer; il vaudrait mieux n’en point avoir que d’en avoir une ainsi faite. Et il serait fort à craindre que qui ne connaîtrait point la religion chrétienne n’en prît point1 une grande opinion sur ses défenseurs2 . Ils prouvent que la mienne n’est pas la leur. Je leur rends grâce; ils m’évitent la peine de le prouver. Ile disent que je ne suis pas chrétien. Je l’accorde, lorsqu’un seul d’entr’eux fera voir qu’il l’est.

[There is no definite indication where the last four paragraphs were intended to come. It is probable that they were meant to close the Letter. They are written on the v° of p. 22.]

B. Early versions of the opening ofles Confessions.
[Geneva MS. f. 229. Neuchâtel MS. 7843.]

(a) [In connection with the above extract, which may be regarded as a prelude to the Confessions, I transcribe what is manifestly an early draft of the opening paragraphs of the Confessions. It is written in the cover, and on the v° of p. 10, of the second of the two note-books which contain the Projet de Constitution pour la Corse [Geneva MS. f. 229]. The opening sentences [J’ai remarqué . . .dans son propre] are scrawled in a large hand. The rest is in the usual hand of Rousseau. It should be compared with the opening of the version preserved in the Bibliothèque de la Ville, Neuchâtel (MS. 7841), and published in the Annales de la Société Jean-Jacques Rousseau, T. IV, pp 1–224 (1908). The first sentence is almost identical in both versions; a few words of the second sentence reappear in paragraph 3 of the Neuchâtel version. Both differ completely from the corresponding passage in the final version. ]

J’ai remarqué souvent dans le cours de ma vie que, même parmi ceux qui se piquaient le plus de connaître les hommes, chacun ne connaît guère que soi, et que sans dépasser cette règle on juge toujours du cœur d’autrui par le sien. Je veux tâcher de faire qu’on puisse avoir du moins une pièce de comparaison, que chacun puisse connaître soi et un autre; et cet autre, ce sera moi. Si je réussis, j’aurais fait . . .des philosophes . . .grand pas à se connaître . . .du moins . . .et le comparer; et cette étude me paraît plus  . . .et plus sûre que de chercher toujours dans son propre, . . .

Au lieu de juger des autres par soi, il faudrait peut-être juger de soi par les autres. Mais sans s’arrêter à l’apparence, il faudrait pour cela lire dans leur cœur comme on croit lire dans le sien. Mais voilà précisément où nous attend la double illusion de l’amour propre: soit en prêtant à ceux que nous jugeons les motifs qui nous auraient fait agir à leur place; soit, dans cette supposition même, en nous trompant sur nos propres motifs. Pour parvenir donc à se bien connaître, la règle, ou la preuve, est de bien connaître un autre que soi; sans quoi, l’on ne sera jamais sûr de n’être pas dans l’erreur.

Chacun croit pourtant se connaître, et son propre individu est souvent celui qu’il connaît le moins. Si j’étais à la place d’un tel, dit on, je ferais autrement qu’il ne fait. On se trompe souvent: si l’on était à sa place, on ferait tout comme lui.

[The above will be found, with Rousseau’s variants added, in the same volume of the Annales, pp. 231–2. The editor is the distinguished scholar, M. Dufour. When I copied it, I was unaware (as in the case of the next Fragment also) that it had been already published—not only by M. Dufour, but also by M. Grandjean (1893). I print it, nevertheless, because I fear it is unlikely that either the Annales or the Journal de Genève, in which it was published by M. Grandjean, will be familiar to English readers.]

(b) [I also reprint the following from MS. Neuchâtel, 7843. It has been printed before, first by Streckeisen-Moultou (Œuvres et Correspondance inédites de J.-J. R. p. 355), then by M. Schinz and M. Dufour. Like the above, it is manifestly intended to open the Confessions.]

Ne connaîtrons-nous jamais l’homme? Jusqu’ici nul mortel n’a connu que lui-même, si toutefois quelqu’un s’est bien connu lui même; et ce n’est pas assez pour juger ni de son espèce, ni du rang qu’on y tient dans l’ordre moral. Il faudrait connaître, outre soi, du moins un de ses semblables, afin de démêler dans son propre cœur ce qui est de l’espèce et ce qui est de l’individu. Beaucoup d’hommes, il est vrai, pensent en connaître d’autres; mais ils se trompent. Du moins, j’ai lieu d’en penser ainsi par les jugements qu’on a portés sur mon compte. Car, de tous ces jugements divers, quoique portés par des gens de beaucoup d’esprit, je sais en ma conscience qu’il n’y a pas un seul qui soit exactement juste et conforme à la vérité.

C. Two Fragments on the theory of Art.
[The first of these has an obvious relation to the three preceding Fragments.]

∗(a) [MS. Neuchâtel, 7854] Car, comme le goût n’est guère susceptible de démonstration, s’il n’y en a qu’un qui soit le bon et que chacun croie le posséder, ce n’est qu’en les comparant tous qu’on peut s’assurer de celui qui mérite la préférence. L opinion avantageuse que nous avons du nôtre, ainsi que celle que chaque nation a du sien, n’est donc qu’un préjugé qui ne deviendra une raison qu’au faveur de celui qui aura le mieux soutenu le parallèle, . . .le ramener à la perfection et . . ..

∗(b) [MS. Neuchâtel, 7840, p. 69 v°.] Il faut pourtant avouer que l’importance qu’on donne au bon goût est déjà un signe assuré de sa dépravation. Jamais on ne parle tant de goût ni de vertu, que dans les temps où l’on l’a le moins. Partout où règnent vraiment l’un et l’autre, la sensation en est couverte par l’habitude1 ; on les suit2 , on les aime, et l’on n’en parle point. La liaison intime du goût avec les mœurs ne peut échapper à quiconque y réfléchit un moment. C’est une inconséquence qui n’est pas dans l’homme, que d’agir constamment contre ses propres jugements. Le beau abstrait n’est rien du tout; rien n’est beau que par ses rapports de convenance; et l’homme, qui n’a que lui pour mesure de ces rapports, n’en juge que sur ses affections.

L’homme ne fait rien de beau que par imitation. Tous les vrais modèles du goût sont dans la nature. Plus nous nous éloignons du maître, plus nos tableaux sont défigurés. C’est alors des objets que nous aimons que nous tenons nos modèles; et le beau qui n’a de règle que nos fantaisies, sujet au caprice et à l’autorité, n’est plus rien que ce qu’il plaît à ceux qui nous guident.

Ceux qui nous guident sont les artistes, les grands, les riches; et ce qui les guide eux-mêmes est leur vanité. Par là le luxe établit son empire3 , et fait aimer ce qui est difficile et coûteux. Alors le prétendu beau, loin d’imiter la nature, n’est tel qu’à force de la contrarier. Comment ces manières de voir laisseraientelles quelque chose de sain dans les affections des citoyens4 ? Ils seraient5 les meilleurs des hommes, que par cela seul ils deviendraient les plus corrompus. Alors le préjugé, qui doit sa naissance à nos vices, les porte au comble; il leur rend plus de force qu’il n’en tient d’eux; et c’est par lui qu’on ne peut plus être honnête homme qu’à force d’être un fripon6 .

Ce n’est pas tant le luxe de mollesse qui nous perd que le luxe de vanité. Ce luxe, qui ne tourne au bien de personne, est le vrai fléau de la société. C’est lui qui porte la misère et la mort dans les campagnes; c’est lui qui dévaste7 la terre et fait périr le genre humain.

Viens1 , fastueux imbécile, qui ne mets ton plaisir que dans l’opinion d’autrui! que je t’apprenne à le goûter toi-même! Sois voluptueux, et non pas vain! Apprend à flatter tes sens, riche bête! prend du goût, et tu jouiras.

[D’Escherny tells us that the contrary doctrine was constantly on Rousseau’s lips: ‘Il n’y a rien de beau que ce qui n’est pas.’Éloge de J.-J. Rousseau, p. xci.]

D. Conclusion of the obiginal Manuscript ofDialoguei, as handed to Brooke Boothby (1776).
[British Museum, Add. MSS., 4925, p. 110.]

Suit la copie de la suscription du Manuscrit, contenant ces trois Dialogues, que j’avais résolu de déposer à la seule garde de la Providence sur le grand Autel de Notre Dame de Paris. Mais, ayant voulu exécuter cette résolution le 24 Février, 1776, je trouvai que, par une précaution toute nouvelle, on avait fermé les grilles des bas-côtés qui environnent le Chœur et par lesquels seuls j’aurais pu pénétrer jusqu’à l’Autel. Je me vis donc forcé, sinon de renoncer à mon projet, du moins de la changer. Car je croirai l’avoir très heureusement rempli, si je trouve un dépositaire discret et fidèle. Est-il un plus digne instrument de l’œuvre de la Providence que la main d’un homme vertueux?

[This is followed (p. 111) by the prayer (Protecteur des opprimés . . .) given in all editions of the Dialogues (Hachette, Œuvres, IX. p. 317). The MS. is docketed thus: Ce manuscrit me fut mis entre les mains le 6 Avril, 1776, par M.J.-J. R. (signed) Br. Boothby. Boothby published Dialogue I. (Lichfield) in 1780, and immediately presented the MS. to the Museum. The above Fragment appears in Boothby’s edition (pp. 329–330). It may be noted that his Table des matières includes Dialogues II. and III. with the note: Ces deux derniers Dialogues ne m’ont pas été confiés.]

∗E. Selection of Fragments intended forRêveries du promeneur solitaire (1776–8).
[MS. Neuchâtel, 7872.]

  • (a)Pour bien remplir le titre de ce recueil, je l’aurais dû commencer il y a soixante ans; car ma vie entière n’a jamais été qu’une longue rêverie, divisée en chapitres par mes promenades de chaque jour. Je le commence aujourd’hui, quoique tard, parce qu’il ne me reste plus rien de mieux à faire en ce monde.Je sens déjà mon imagination se glacer, toutes mes facultés s’affroidir. Je m’attends à voir mes rêveries devenir plus froides de jour en jour, jusqu’à ce que l’ennui de les écrire m’en ôte le courage. Ainsi mon entreprise (?) doit naturellement finir quand j’approcherai de la fin de ma vie.[See opening of Rêveries, I. and II.]
  • (b)Je dois toujours faire ce que je dois, parce que je le dois, mais non par aucun espoir de succès; car je sais bien que ce succès est désormais impossible.
  • (c)Je me représente l’étonnement de cette génération, si superbe, si orgueilleuse, et si fière de son prétendu savoir, et qui compte avec une si cruelle suffisance sur l’infaillibilité de ses lumiéeres à mon égard.
  • (d)Il n’y a plus ni affinité, ni fraternité entre eux et moi. Ils m’ont renié pour leur frère; et moi, je me fais gloire de les prendre au mot. Que si néanmoins je pouvais remplir encore envers eux quelque devoir d’humanité, je le ferai sans doute: non comme avec mes semblables, mais comme avec des êtres souffrants et sensibles qui ont besoin de soulagement. Je soulagerais de même, et de meilleur cœur encore, un chien qui souffre. Car, n’étant ni traître, ni fourbe, et ne caressant jamais par fausseté, un chien m’est beaucoup plus proche qu’un homme de cette génération.
  • (e)Il n’y a que moi seul au monde qui se lève chaque jour avec la certitude parfaite de n’éprouver aucune nouvelle peine et de ne pas se coucher plus malheureux.
  • (f)[(e) previously printed by S. M.]

[The above are written on the backs of playing-cards: the last, by a strange irony, on the knave of diamonds.]

APPENDIX II

ROUSSEAU AND HIS ENEMIES

[IT is probable that many readers are prejudiced against Rousseau, as a writer, because they have formed an unfavourable judgment of him, as a man. It is, therefore, of Great importance that the grounds of this unfavourable judgment should be sifted. And some eight years ago a remarkable writer, Mrs Macdonald, made discoveries which throw an entirely new light upon the matter (Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a new Criticism, 1906). The results of her researches are unfortunately much less widely known than they deserve to be. For this reason, I append the following summary account of them, which was originally delivered as a lecture to the Philosophical and Literary Society of Leeds, in the hope that attention may be drawn to a work which, I cannot but think, has revolutionised the evidence as to Rousseau’s character.]

I am to speak to-night not of the writings of Rousseau, but of his life; not of his genius, but his character. Yet, before I enter on this subject, it is impossible not to cast a glance at the great work which he accomplished in the world, at the revolution which he wrought in the intellectual and imaginative life of Europe.

Consider first the more Imaginative side of his achievement, the vast space which he fills in the purely literary movement of his time. He gave a new and most fruitful turn to the Novel; he brought a keener observation, a more searching analysis, of the springs of action and character than had been known for many a long day; he is one of the fountain heads of modern realism. Or, to speak more generally, Wordsworth, Byron and Shelley are his spiritual children. So are Chateaubriand and George Sand; so also, at least in their earlier work, are Goethe and Schiller.

In the field of reflection and abstract thought he has left a yet deeper mark behind him. He is a great moralist and a great religious teacher; he is the father of all that has since been done for educational reform; he gave an impulse to political and social progress of which the world has still cause to be thankful; he recast the whole fabric of political philosophy from top to bottom. It was the Contrat social that dealt the first deadly blow to the individualism, which since the days of Locke had swept everything before it. From the publication of the Contrat social, that theory has tottered slowly to its fall.

There are few men in the whole history of Europe whose influence upon subsequent generations has been so strong and so definite. I can think of none myself except Aristotle and Plato.

Now, whenever a great task has been done in the world, we are driven instinctively to ask: Of what sort was the man who did it? Does his own life, his personal character, offer any mirror of the qualities which give strength and enduring value to his writings?

In the case of Rousseau, as you know, this question has been vehemently debated; and the evidence, on the face of it, is extraordinarily conflicting. We have, on the one hand, the sinister portrait painted by his enemies; by Hume, by Diderot, and, above all, by Mme d’Épinay. We have, on the other hand, the very different pictures drawn by Mercier and Bernardin de SaintPierre, the friends of his old age; by d’Escherny, du Peyrou and Moultou, whose familiarity with him began much earlier, and, in the case of Moultou at any rate, continued unbroken to the end. Between the two stands the evidence furnished by the Confessions and other autobiographical writings of Rousseau himself: unsparing in the evil they record; but rich also in touches, both conscious and unconscious, which make strongly for the good.

In the indictment against him, by far the most damaging evidence is that supplied by the Mémoires of Mme d’Épinay. If we accept it, there is no choice but to pronounce him a mass of lying, malignity and hypocrisy. And in most of the books written about him, you will find the validity of this evidence either loudly asserted or tacitly assumed. Within the last nine years, however, a wholly new turn has been given to the argument. The authenticity of the Mémoires has been roughly challenged; and, proofs in hand, a remarkable scholar, Mrs Macdonald, has roundly asserted that they are unworthy of any credit.

The whole question of Rousseau’s character has been suddenly reopened. Evidence of an entirely new nature has been brought before the Court. And it is manifestly just that our verdict should be reconsidered in its light.

It is my object this evening to lay this new evidence before you; and I appeal to your justice to hear it, as far as may be, without prejudice. If it is valid evidence, it is clear that the whole life of Rousseau—to say the least, the last five and twenty years of it—will need to be rewritten. And that being so, I have no choice but to begin by recalling to you, with all the impartiality I can muster, the crucial stages of its course.

His life covers the period from 1712 to 1778. The son of a watchmaker at Geneva, he was brought up by his father—his mother died at his birth—till he was eight or nine. During these years, he tells us that his chief amusements were the Grand Cyrus and other like romances of the preceding century, and the Lives of Plutarch. From the one he may have drawn the delight in story telling, die Lust zu fabulieren, which was afterwards to produce the Nouvelle Héloïse. From the other he certainly drank in that admiration for the great States of antiquity, in particular for the republics of Rome and Sparta, which was to leave so strong a mark upon the Contrat social and his whole work in political philosophy

About 1720, his father, having got embroiled in a quarrel with a fire-eating officer, and being moreover something of a rolling stone, hastily quitted Geneva and left him in charge of an uncle who, in his turn, sent him to board with a Pastor on the outskirts of the city. After passing some years with this good man, Rousseau was apprenticed first to a Notary; then, on proving quite unfit for such work, to an Engraver. His new life was hateful to him. He lost all the refinement which birth and early training had given him, and began to run wild. One Sunday evening, finding the city gates shut in his face, and knowing that he would be flogged by his master, he made up his mind on the spot that he would never submit to that disgrace. And, as the only means of escape, he ran away (1728). Thus, at the age of sixteen, he turned himself adrift upon the world. During the rest of his life he never wholly lost the character of wanderer and pilgrim.

After some days’aimless roaming, he was directed by the Priest of a neighbouring village to seek the help of a benevolent lady, a convert to the Catholic faith, who lived at Annecy. This was Mme de Warens, to whom, far more than to his father or to any other of his early instructors, he owed all that went to mould his character and tastes. It was from her that he drew the love of calm and the love of outward nature which were to be among the strongest of his passions; and it was while living with her that he laid the foundation of the meditative habits, and also of the strangely varied intellectual and artistic tastes, which were to go with him to the end. In other respects, her influence was not so healthy. One has no wish to be hard on a woman who did so much for him and to whom he was devotedly attached. But it must be confessed that she was in many ways an ill guide for a dreamy and impressionable youth. And her notions of love, to use a familiar phrase, were ‘both extensive and peculiar.’After a few years—to preserve him, as she said, from the corruptions of the world—she insisted on making him her lover. Vagrant, lover, student—that, in short, is the description of him during this, the seed-time of his life (1728-1741).

Finding, after a short absence, that his place in the affections of Mme de Warens had been taken by another. Rousseau, at the age of twenty-nine, set forth once more to make his fortune; this time in Paris. There, after more than one false start, he finally settled down in 1743, as a struggling aspirant in literature and music. It is to this period that belongs the worst deed with which his memory can be charged. Soon after settling in Paris, he formed a connection with a wholly uneducated woman, whom with pathetic constancy he never ceased to cherish as the ‘child of nature,’Thérèse Levasseur. By her he had five children; and each of them in turn he lodged, immediately after birth, in the Foundling Hospital at Paris. It was an abominable act, and I will not stoop to justify or to palliate it. I will go further than that. I will express my unfeigned regret that in after years, when repentance and remorse came upon him, as they did come in full tide, he should more than once have interrupted his selfreproaches with attempts to extenuate his misdeed. Extenuating circumstances there may have been—I think myself there were—circumstances connected with the shady character of the Levasseur family, among whom the children must almost necessarily have been brought up. But, whatever the pleas in mitigation, Rousseau was surely the last man in the world to make them. And there is no more to be said.

With 1749, when he was nearing the age of forty, a new scene suddenly broke upon him. A mere chance, the offering of a prize by the Academy of Dijon, revealed his genius for the first time to the world and to himself. The publication of the first Discourse. on the moral influence of the Arts and Sciences, was the literary event of the day (175I). And from that moment he was a marked man. For the next twelve years—years, as he himself says, of delirium and fever—he continued to pour forth the works which, as we have seen, changed the face of thought, feeling and imaginative temper from end to end of Europe. Seldom or never has fame come to a great writer so late in life. Seldom or never has it been earned by labours so unwearied. The second Discourse, the Nouvelle Héloïse, Émile and the Contrat social—all these were crowded into the short space from 1753 to 1762.

A landmark in the history of Europe, this period was equally so m the life of Rousseau himself. To these years belongs the breach with Mme d’Épinay, Grimm and Diderot, of which I shall have to speak in a few minutes (1757–8). To these years also— and this is far more important—belongs what he himself calls his ‘inward reformation’; a change as complete and, in its first dawn at any rate, as sudden as that which, under the name of ‘conversion,’is familiar to us in the annals of religion. This meant a complete revolution in his whole moral outlook; a resolve to apply unsparingly to his own life and conduct the principles which, in a reflective shape, he was beating out, with ever increasing clearness, in his writings. He determined to enter without flinching upon the path into which he was seeking to guide others to free himself once and for all from that enslavement to public opinion, to alien codes and rules of conduct, which he was denouncing in others. His aim was to square his own life and conduct with the exacting standard of truth and simplicity which he had reached by toilsome meditation; to return, so far as might be in his own heart and his own actions, to the’ state of nature.’ With this end, he abandoned at once and for ever all efforts to make his way in the world, dropped the gentleman’s laced coat and sword, lived as a plain bourgeois and set out to make his livelihood by copying music at sixpence a sheet. The change was made at the very moment when his worldly prospects were far brighter, and the temptation to pursue wealth and social standing far stronger, than they had ever been before. It was no case of disappointed vanity or ambition. It was the sacrifice of a prize which lay ready to his hand and which few men would have been strong enough to thrust aside.

There is yet another point which I would ask you to consider. If this change was a thing not only of appearance but of reality, if (as I am convinced was the case) Rousseau from the moment of its completion was a new man, does not his past life present itself in a wholly different light? The acts and habits of his past in themselves of course, remain the same. But our estimate of them as an index to his character, is signally changed. They belong to an order of things which has largely been left behind, And their connection with the new order, though it can never be entirely broken, is proportipnately weakened. We should shrink from judging St Paul by the acts done before his conversion. Ought we not to apply something of the same measure to Rousseau?

The first result of Émile and the Contrat social was to call down a storm of persecution upon the head of the author. Within a month, decrees of arrest or banishment were launched against him firstly by the Parlement of Paris, then by the Councils of Geneva and of Bern, He was driven from pillar to post. The very ground seemed to give way beneath his feet. And it was solely by the open-mindedness of Frederick the Great that at last he found refuge in the Canton of Neuchâtel, then an appanage of Prussia After three years of comparative calm, he was driven from here also by a rising of the populace, and eventually, on the invitation of Hume, turned his steps to England (1766). Owing to his unhappy breach with Hume, he found this country also a place of torment; and, before a year-and-a-half was out, fled back suddenly to France (1767).

From this moment it is clear that a great change had come over the spirit of Rousseau, and that his courage, at least for purposes of action, was broken. For the rest of his life there was nothing left him but to endure. The hostility of the ‘philosophers ‘which had smouldered ever since his quarrel with Grimm and Diderot, was fanned into a flame by his rupture with Hume. He knew that no pains were being spared to blacken his character secretly while he lived. He knew that the same object would be pursued without concealment directly he was dead. He was aware that, as Burke complained twenty years later, the philosophers habitually acted in concert, and that, for this and other reasons they wielded a control over public opinion which it was hardly possible to overthrow. So far, as I shall hope to shew, there was no delusion in the matter; and those who argue otherwise are themselves, I fear, entirely mistaken. Beyond this point however, it is, I think, undeniable that Rousseau was from this time onward subject to delusions and hallucinations. Knowing that there was a conspiracy against him, he saw traces of it in incidents in which, with the best will in the world, his enemies cannot possibly have been concerned. The storms of the last five years had, in fact, been greater than he could weather; and, on certain points and at certain moments, his mind gave way beneath the strain. Can we wonder that this was so? Is it surprising that persecution and slander should at least have driven their victim into a state of unreasoning suspicion? One thing, however is clear. It is that these delusions were confined within very narrow limits, and that beyond these limits, the intellect of the inan was as clear, his mastery over all the resources of his genius as absolute, as it had ever been before. The Dialogues, which shew the cloud of suspicion more clearly than any of his other writings, are a masterpiece of dialectic. In them, as well as in the other writings of this period, we find a knowledge of the human heart and a power of poignant description which were a new thing in the literature of Europe.

Justly indignant at the treachery of his assallants, it was only right that Rousseau should cast about for weapons of defence. From the men of his own day there was little hope of redress. His sole hope was to clear his character in the judgment of posterity. It was with this object that he wrote the Confessions and, after a short interval, the Dialogues, which form their inseparable sequel. The former were completed in 1770, and in the course of the next winter were read two or three times before picked audiences in Paris The readings, however, were summarily stopped on the application of Mme d’Épinay to the Lieutenant of Police; and, apart from loans of the manuscript to a small circle of acquaintance, Rousseau found himself driven back upon the verdict of the future. He had failed to draw his enemies into the open, while he was there to answer them. The one thing he had gained was to have cleared his conscience by giving them fair notice that there would be a posthumous defence.

The fate of the Dialogues (1772–6) appears to have struck home far more closely to his heart. In this work he had avoided, as far as possible, all reference to detail. His object was not to tell the outward story of his life, but to lay bare the inmost workings of his heart. He went, therefore, far more nearly to the root of the matter than he had done in the Confessions; the picture he gives of himself is far more personal and intimate. This being the case, he was naturally yet more concerned to secure for it some measure of publicity. And the plan he decided on for this purpose was to lay the completed copy solemnly upon the high altar of Notre Dame. On the day he had fixed in his own mind, he made his way to the Cathedra!, but found his approach to the altar blocked by a barrier which had never struck his eye before. He took this for a token that the will of God was against the fulfilment of his design, and, after a bitter struggle, bowed his head in submission (1776).

It was the last confiict of his troubled life, and it was the most cruel But the victory was complete. From that time he abandoned all hope of justifying his character even to posterity. ‘Buried alive among the living,’he made no further attempt to break down ‘the triple wall of darkness that surrounded him.’ ‘I resigned myself,’he says, ‘without reserve, and once more I have found peace.’His last link with life was broken, and all that was left him was to prépare himself by stern self-discipline for death. This is the spirit which breathes throughout the Rêveries, the last of his writings, and surely not far from the best. It was begun within two months of the final mortification of his hopes. It was left unfinished at his death. The end came quite suddenly in the summer of 1778. There is no ground for the often repeated assertion that it was self-sought.

This must suffice for a sketch of Rousseau’s life. There is one point only on which I must return; the breach with Grimm, Diderot and Mme d’Épinay which he always reckoned, and I think justly to have lain at the root of the troubles which pursued him to his death. The charges he brings against them, when the matter is sifted, reduce themselves to three. He accuses them, and in particular Diderot, of persistently interfering with his liberty of turning the ties of friendship into a tyranny which it was impossible to endure. The letters written to him by Diderot in 1757 prove this charge up to the hilt. My only wonder is that he should have stood the meddlesome dictation of the man as long as he did. The second cause of the quarrel is bound up with a preposterous scheme for sending Rousseau, under circumstances which rightly or wrongly, he held to be highly compromising, to squire Mme d’Épinay to Geneva. He angrily—and, as far as the manner went, most ungraciously—refused. Grimm seized the occasion to renounce his friendship with every mark of contempt; and Mme d’Épinay, screwed to the sticking place by Grimm, her declared lover, speedily followed suit (November, 1757).

The third and last grievance of Rousseau sprang out of his passion for Mme d’Houdetot, the sister-in-law of Mme d’Épinay. Mme d’Houdetot was manifestly much flattered by the love of the great writer, and, in spite of her attachment to Saint-Lambert, gave him considérable encouragement. Both she and Rousseau seem to have behaved with childish want of caution. But both fortunately were saved by scruples of honour from falling over the precipice which they could not bring themselves to avoid. The tale was speedily borne to Saint-Lambert, who remonstrated vehemently with his mistress, but in the end magnanimously forgave both her and Rousseau. The latter, finding himself treated with marked coolness by the woman he loved, confided his distress to Diderot, who at the time still professed to be his friend. A few months later Rousseau discovered that the whole story, with detalls known only to Diderot, had again been raked up to Saint-Lambert and, what was yet worse, was now the common gossip of Paris. After communicating with Saint-Lambert, he drew the inevitable inference that his confidence had been betrayed by Diderot and publicly announced that all friendship between them was at an end (October, 1758). Diderot himself admits that he was Saint-Lambert’s informant, though he offers an explanation of his treachery which is demonstrably false. Whether it was he or Grimm who spread the tale over Paris, is a question which it is not possible to answer. Nor, so far as Rousseau is concerned, is it of much importance. All we know is that, apart from Mme d Épinay (who, it may be hoped, was innocent), they were the only two persons in possession of the secret; and, to judge from their subsequent conduct, either of them was capable of stabbing an enemy in the dark.

It only remains to ask who it was that, in the previous summer (1757), had carried the first news of the unfortunate business to Saint-Lambert. And here at any rate, there is little or no doubt about the answer. Mme d’Épinay in her Mémoires quotes letters written by her during those months to Grimm, who was then with the French Army in West-phalia. The letters are full of spiteful gossip about Rousseau and her sister-in-law; and we learn by her own admission1 that she had contrived to get sight of the letters which passed between them. We gather from Grimm’s replies, firstly, that the gossip made him intensely curious, and secondly, that he was constantly in the way of meeting Saint-Lambert, then quartered within a few miles of him. There is no need to look any farther for the tale bearer. He had the information, and he was not the man to have scruples about using it. Mme d’Épinay, indeed, tells us of an anonymous letter which betrayed the secret to Saint-Lambert. But as she fathers this alleged letter on thérèse Levasseur, and as elsewhere, with incredible inconsequence, she lays it to the charge of Rousseau himself, we may safely pronounce that this story, like so many others in the Mémoires, is a deliberate lie; and that, in all probability, it was forged for the express purpose of screening the treachery of Grimm. This was the nest of vipers in which Rousseau had sought friendship. These are the people whom he is accused of treating with odious ingratitude.

The strangest part of the story is yet to come. It is from this tainted source that the common estimate of Rousseau has been largely drawn. It is by the Mémoires of Mme d’Épinay that his character both in this country and in France, has too often been credulously judged.

This curious book is one of a group published between 1812 and 1825; all from the hands of the same literary clique; all directed more or less, to the detraction of Rousseau. They are the Correspondance de Grimm, published in 1813; the Mémoires de Mme d’Épinay, in 1818; and the Biographie Universelle, or rather the volumes of it containing the articles on Diderot, Mme d Épinay, Grimm and Rousseau, from 1813 to 1825. Of these the Mémoires are the most remarkable in themselves, and the most important to us for their bearing upon the life and charaeter of Rousseau. Whatever their value as records of fact, they are, at least in the first half, a monument of literary skill; and none of the praises which have been given them on that score can be reckoned too great.

But what of their veracity? You will, I think, agree with me that every autobiography— and it is as an autobiography that the Mémoires claim to rank—must satisfy at least two conditions. It must be fairly in accordance with the facts which are known to us from other sources. And whenever it quotes letters or documents it must do so with absolute exactness. To these two conditions for reasons which will appear directly, a third must in this case be added. Prejudiced or unprejudiced, an autobiography, so far as it deals with the characters of others, must at least give the spontaneous impressions of the writer. It must bear no trace of arrangement or editing, at the suggestion of another.

Now, of these three conditions, not one is fulfilled by the Mémoires of Mme d’Épinay. The order of events—a matter of the utmost importance in all cases of dispute between one person and another— is hopelessly confused. Facts redounding either to the cr dit of Grimm and Diderot, or to the discredit of Rousseau, are freely invented. Above all, round the whole book hangs an atmosphere of romance which, even before recent discoveries had been made, should have been enough to put any well informed reader on his guard. The fact is that, in the first instance, the book was written not as an autobiography, but as a novel—’the sketch ‘as Grimm says in his Correspondance, ‘of a long novel.’ And oddly enough, we are told by Mme d’Épinay herself that this novel was originally designed as a counterblast to the Nouvelle H loïse: it was intended for an example of the true way to handle fiction as opposed to the false methods employed by Rousseau.

You will ask, How does it happen that a book, which was written as fiction, has come to palm itself off upon the world as matter of fact? The answer is very simple. The names of the personages in the manuscript from which the book was printed are all assumed names: Mme de Montbrillant, M. Volx, M. Garnier, René, and so forth, standing for Mme d’Épinay, Grimm, Diderot, Rousseau and the rest. But the editor who prepared the work for the press at once saw through the very flimsy veil devised by the authoress, and replaced the real names in the version given by him to the public. So much he frankly admits in his preface. But he strives to take the edge off the admission by laying stress on the assurance of the authoress that ‘this publication is not a novel but the authentic memoir of a group of men and women, subject to the frallties of human nature.’And, what is quite unpardonable he says not a word of the numerous alterations which he has made in the text, with the object of removing its most glaring discrepancies with known fact,

From all this we may infer that the authoress intended her narrative to be taken for fact; but that she retained the novel form as a convenient screen against the charges of slander and misrepresentation which she foresaw were certain to be brought against her. By restoring the real names and correcting the most crying misstatements, the editor, Brunet, carried out the first of these intentions with a success which the authoress herself can have hardly ventured to look for. As for the risk necessarily involved in knocking down the screen of professed fiction, he determined to face it at all costs, and boldly trust to the gullibility of the public. The event has shewn that he was wise in his generation. For nearly ninety years his imposture was taken for gospel. It is only by the insight and industry of Mrs Macdonald that it has been unmasked.

The second condition of authenticity, you will remember, was that any letters or documents cited must be scrupulously exact. What is the record of Mme d’Épinay in this matter? It was noticed long ago that some of the letters quoted in the Mémoires differ widely both in wording and spirit, from the version of the same letters given in Rousseau’s Confessions. This is markedly the case to take one example, with the last of the letters written to Rousseau by Mme d’Épinay on what has been called the ‘day of the five letters ‘; that is the day on which Rousseau—as we now know with perfect justice—accused Mme d’Épinay of making mischief between him and Mme d’Houdetot (June or July, 1757), Not more than two or three sentences of the two versions are the same. In l’one they are absolutely opposed. As Saint-Marc Girardin a writer strongly hostile to Rousseau, says: ‘the letter given in the Confessions is that of a wounded friend; the version of the Mémoires comes from an affronted benefactress.’The critics however, had an easy way out of the dimculty. ‘One of them’ says Sainte-Beuve1 , ‘must have been lying. I do not believe that it was Mme d’Épinay.’And upon this airy assumption was built the sweeping inference that, wherever Rousseau’s statements or documents differ from those of his opponents, it is he who lies and they who tell the truth; that the Confessions are a tissue of falsehood, but the Mémoires a model of veracity.

There was, indeed, a simple way of settling the question. But it involved labour and research. It was to consult the original letters which all the time were known to be lying in the Library of Neuchâtel. That, however, was an expédient which occurred neither to the enemies of Rousseau nor, for a long time, to his admirers. At last, in 1865, a large sélection of them was published by Streckeisen-Moultou, great-grandson of that Moultou to whom Rousseau a few weeks before his death, confided the manuscript of the Confessions. Among the pieces there printed was the letter in question. It was then seen that the original letter corresponds word for word with the copy given in the Confessions, and that the version offered by the Mémoires is an impudent fabrication. It is unfortunate for Sainte-Beuve. It is still more unfortunate for Mme d’Épinay.

I content myself with one more illustration. It is not by any means the most glaring. But it involves less explanation of intricate detalls than most of the others; and therefore, for our purposes it is the most convenient. At a certain moment it suits the purposes of Mme d’Épinay to quote a letter written by Rousseau to the famous physician, Tronchin, who eventually became one of his most persistent enemies. The object of the quotation is to shew that Rousseau was not above blackening the character of those with whom he had lived on terms of friendship, and towards whom at least in this letter, he stil1 professes goodwill. here are the exact words as given in the Mémoires: ‘ . . .Il est inconcevable qu’une femme qui a autant d’esprit, autant d’amour pour la vertu, et qui se plaît à la pratiquer jusqu’à sacrifier son bonheur avec fermeté lorsque son devoir l’exige, mette sans cesse sur le compte de sa raison les erreurs et les caprices de ses penchants. Oui, je suis convaincu qu’il n’est point d’homme, si honnête qu’il soit, s’il suivait toujours ce que son cœur lui dicte, qui ne devînt en peu de temps le dernier des scélérats.’

By a lucky chance, the original of this Ietter has been preserved. And this is what Rousseau actually wrote: ‘ . . .N’est-il pas assez étrange qu’étant femme sensée, bonne amie, excellente mère de famille, aimant la justice et la vertu, et supportant souvent bien des chagrins pour remplir ses devoirs, elle ne veuille pas faire honneur à sa raison de ce qu’elle refuse à ses penchants? Car, quoi qu elle en puisse dire, le moyen d’être honnêtes gens sans combattre? Il n’y a pas un seul homme au monde qui, s’il faisait tout ce que son cœur lui propose de faire, ne devînt en fort peu de temps le dernier des scélérats.’The worst of the discrepancies between the two versions have been italicised in both.

Now at first sight the changes made by Mme d’Épinay may not seem very important. But if we read carefully, we shall see that, while adroitly preserving many of the words actually employed by Rousseau, the revised version succeeds in giving them an entirely different sense. In the original, Rousseau, writing to a kindred spirit, delivers a sermon on his favourite text, that without a sensé of duty there can be no such thing as goodness. And he finds fault with Mme d’Épinay for not recognising this important truth as clearly as he and his correspondent would have1 wished. His quarrel is not with her moral perversity, but with her speculative blindness. In the revised version, on the other hand, Tronchin is informed that’ she persistently lays her shortcomings to the charge,’not of her unguarded impulses, but of her ‘reason’or conscience. And it is hinted, though not expressly declared that she has, perhaps unknown to herself, a grudge against her conscience, and is in danger of speedily becoming the ‘worst of criminals.’The real Ietter is pedantic enough, but it is without personal innuendo. The false letter is full of malignant hints which the writer is too artful and too cowardly to make clear.

In order to deepen the impression of Rousseau’s treachery, Mme d’Épinay implies, though she does not state in so many words, that this letter had just been received by Trochin (December. 1757); in other words, that it was written after her, breach with Rousseau and at a moment when he might plausibly be credited with a desire to do her an ill service. As a matter of fact, the date at the head of the original letter (February 27th, 1757) shews it’ to have been written almost a year earlier; that is, at a time when there neither was, nor had been, any cloud upon their friendship. Is it altogether an accident that the opening sentences of the letter, in which there is a clear reference to this date, have been suppressed? And what are we to say of the words with which the garbled letter is introduced by the authoress: ‘Here, word for word, is the passage which I have copied to send you ‘(i.e. Grimm? If they do these things in the green tree, what shall be done in the dry? If she treats us in this manner when she is ‘copying word for word,’what are we to look for when she gives us no such comforting assurance?

From all this it results that the documents of Mme d’Épinay are no more to be trusted than her statements. And this would be still more apparent if the editor, Brunet, had not, whenever it suited his purpose, replaced the spurious documents of the original manuscript by the true versions, preserved in the published writings of others. Here again, as in the case of matters of fact, he has maintained a discreet silence about his editorial recreations.

I pass now to the third condition demanded in an autobiography that the writer’s judgments on men and things, whether right or wrong in themselves, must at least represent his own mind; that they shall not have been doctored to suit the views and impressions of others. And here we come to the strangest part of a strange story.

For the last twenty-five years and more it has been known that the rough copy of the original manuscript used by Brunet was in existence; and that it was divided between two Libraries, the Archives and the Arsenal, at Paris. Unfortunately, the two writers who made this discovery, MM.Perey and Maugras, entirely failed to follow it up. They seem to have contented themselves with a sabbath day’s journey through the new text; and with the touching piety of biographers—they were engaged on a Life of Mme d’Épinay—they had the courage to affirm that Mme d’Épinay ‘was the slave of truth,’and that, ‘after the most scrupulous examination ‘they ‘had been able to convince themselves of the perfect exactitude of her narrative’(1882-3).

It was not until some twenty years later (1906) that the real significance of the new manuscript was detected. For this service we are indebted to Mrs Macdonald. A careful examination of the manuscript shewed her that large parts of it, particularly those parts which relate to Rousseau, had been entirely rewritten; and that the second version was invariably more unfavourable to his actions and character than the first. This led to a further discovery which put the key to the whole business in her hands. Among the pages of the Arsenal manuscript—that which contains the latter part of the Mémoires—she found some loose sheets with a list of ‘the altérations to be made in the narrative.’The most important of these alterations relate to the story of René— this it will be remembered, is the name given to Rousseau in the novel as written by Mme d’Épinay—and they are introduced by the tell-taie words: ‘Reprendre René depuis le commencement’—’Rewrite the story of Rousseau from the beginning.’Every item in the list’contains some attack or innuendo against Rousseau’s character. And, sure enough, every item reappears, with all due literary embellishment, in the revised version of the story.

It is plain, therefore, that the so-called Mémoires have not even the poor merit of reflecting the authoress’unadulterated prejudices; that they stand for nothing better than a faked, garbled blackened version of the judgments she had originally formed The first version we know, from Mme d’Épinay’s own statement,to have been begun in 1757; and she may be presumed to have completed it in the years immediately following (1758–1763). The date of the second is more doubtful. Mrs Macdonald assumes that it was written directly after the public readings of the Confessions which Rousseau gave shortly after his return to Paris (1770–1), and that it was intended for an answer to their revelations. M. Scherer, failing as he did to distinguish between the two versions, assumes the same date (or one a little later), and the same motive, for the whole1 .

We are now in a position to judge of the real value of the Mémoires. We know that they have undergone two successive garblings; the first at the hand of the authoress herself, some time between 1760 and 1783; the second at that of her editor, some forty or fifty years later. The first of these falsifications Had for its object to sponge out the comparatively pleasing portrait of Rousseau which the authoress had originally drawn, and to paint over it that of a treacherous and spiteful monster, ‘the artful villain ‘of Diderot’s invective. The second was undertaken with a view to removing the grossest improbabilities of this spurious portrait, and investing it with an air of plausibility. The resuit of the two is a double-distilled fraud, which imposed upon the world for nearly a century, but whose crédit is now utterly overthrown. No statement that Mme d’Épinay makes, no document that she quotes, unless it is supported by some other and quite independent authority, is worth the paper on which it is written. The whole thing—so far as it relates to Rousseau— is a tissue of forgeries from beginning to end.

The question at once suggests itself: was the first falsification due solely to Mme d’Épinay herself? or was it suggested to her by some other party? Was Eve her own temptress? or was there at her ear some ‘familiar toad ‘who inspired slanders and suggested forgeries of which she would otherwise have been incapable?

Mrs Macdonald is confident that the hand-writing both of Grimm and Diderot may be detected among the notes directing the ∗ changes to be made in the story.’Of Grimm’s manual presence she offers no proof; and, until this is done, there is clearly no case against him. Of notes added, as she believes, by Diderot she gives two facsimiles. And though, from a misapprehension of the reference in her facsimiles, I long hesitated, I have now no doubt whatever that she is in the right, I may add that I base my conclusion on an independent comparison of the facsimiles given by Mrs Macdonald with autograph letters of Diderot’s, preserved in the Geneva Library and the British Museum.

Thus the evidence of hand-writing is fatal to Diderot, but falls us— so far as can be proved at present—in the case of Grimm. In spite of this, however, I believe it probable that Grimm as well as Diderot had a share in the imposture. The mere fact that the second version is more hostile to Rousseau than the first is enough to raise a suspicion that the alteration was due to pressure from without. And there are reasons—not certain indeed but probable—for inferring that it was Grimm and Diderot who applied it. Rousseau himself, both in the Confessions and the Dialogues, expresses his conviction that they were at the bottom of the conspiracy against him. And, though this is obviously no proof, yet, considering that he was exceptionally clearsighted and had exceptional means of information, it affords a presumption which at least deserves examination. It is manifestly fair that the case of each should be taken singly.

And first for Diderot. Much of the information, or what passes for such, that is given in the Mémoires can have been supplied by none but him. I mention only the slander about Rousseau’s alleged double dealing with Saint-Lambert; a slander which is confuted by the best of all proofs, the letters which passed between him and Saint-Lambert in the autumn of 1757. Again: How, I ask did it come that, when the approaching appearance of the Mémoires was announced in 1818, it was the son-in-law of Diderot who acted for the family of Mme d’Épinay in applying for an injunction against their publication? Is not the probable explan tion that Vandeul, the person in question, knew of his father-in-law’s connection with the compilation, that he was heartily ashamed of it, and therefore did everything in his power to suppress it That must certainly have been the motive of Mme d’Épinay’s family On grounds still more closely confined to the ‘Story of René’—the only part of the printed book in which Diderot appears— it is hard to believe that it was not also that of Diderot’s.

Lastly, we know that, during the later years of his life, Diderot was swept off his feet by hatred of Rousseau and terror of the revelations which the Confessions were known to have in store; and this terror and hatred seem at last to have become little less than a possession. The Mémoires of Bachaumont afford sufficient proof that this was the case. And the attack published by Diderot himself within a few months of Rousseau’s death, and republished, with aggravations, after the appearance of the Dialogues and the first (but harmless) part of the Confessions, is one long demonstration of it (1778–1782), The closing words of this diatribe are, for our purpose, particularly significant. ‘Rousseau himself, in a posthumous work where he proclaims himself mad ad nproud, a hypocrite and a liar, has lifted one corner of the veil. Time will finish the task. And justice will be done upon the dead, as soon as it can be done without giving pain to the living.’Mrs Macdonald finds in these words a plain warning of the blow which the author, or authors, of the Mémoires held in reserve. She finds also a plain proof that their contents were well known to Diderot; and she draws the further inference that he himself had supplied much of the material. As to the first two links in the chain she is manifestly right. As to the third, when we take it in connection with the arguments I have just given, it is impossible to say that she is wrong.

But how, you will ask, is tins revengeful spirit to be reconciled with the open character which is generally attributed to Diderot? I answer frankly that it is not. In my opinion, Diderot is one of those men to whom the world has agreed to do something more than justice. here, however, we must make a distinction. I believe that, when left to himself, Diderot was indeed of too open a nature to launch against a former friend a conspiracy so dishonourable as this. I think that his ‘openness ‘was of the kind, only too familiar, which goes hand in hand with deplorable weakness. I conclude that, in this matter, he was probably a puppet in the hands of others more designing and more unscrupulous than himself. I am willing to suppose that, under their influence and perhaps without realising the full bearings of his conduct, he allowed himself to be carried much further than he would have gone of his own accord. And I find in one of Grimm’s letters a sentence which shews that his friends were well aware of his weakness and that some of them were not above trading upon it to the last farthing. This letter was written at a moment when Grimm, apparently on no solid ground, had taken it into his head that Diderot was in the secret of Rousseau’s passion for Mme d’Houdetot This, as we know, was a point on which he was desperately curious. Accordingly he writes to Mme d’Épinay: ‘All we have got to do is to heat his head, and then he will soon begin to steam off his secret.’I imagine that this process of ‘heating Diderot’s head ‘was persistentiy and cunningiy applied to his fears and resentments as well as to his secrets; and that it ended in working him into a perfect frenzy of terror and hatred. He was—his writings as well as his life testify to the fact—incurably loose minded. Once possessed of an idea, he had no power of distinguishing between fact and fiction, He saw black where, in truth there was nothing but white. He tells us, for instance, that Rousseau had repeatedly begged to be restored to his friendship; but that, as a just man, he had felt bound to repel all such advances. The fact, as can be proved from a letter printed in Rousseau s Correspondance, is exactly the reverse. It was Diderot who applied for a renewal of the friendship, and Rousseau who refused1 . Taking all these flaws of temperament into account, I think we may fairly acquit Diderot of the lowest depth of baseness. His conduct was bad enough; but that is no reason why we should make it worse2 .

With Grimm I conceive the case to have been very different. But let us begin at the beginning. And, in the first place, what reason is there for supposing that Grimm had anything to do with the Mémoires of Mme d’Épinay ? The answer is that we can establish the connection from the first link to the last. We know that he was in the secret of their first beginning. We know that, in the early stages, they were regularly submitted to him for correction. We know that, once established as the lover of Mme d’Épinay, he remained her closest friend until her death. Having consulted him when she began the Mémoires, it is therefore not only highly probable that she consulted him to the end, but highly improbable that she did not. And if any startling change was to be made in the plan of them—and we know how startling the changes were—it is inconceivable that Grimm’s advice should not have been sought, hardly possible that it was not also taken, in the matter. But this is not all. How did the rewritten manuscript come into the hands of its first editor, Brunet ? It was bought by him from the heirs of Lecourt de VilIière, a former factotum first of Mme d’Épinay and then of Grimm. How did he obtain the manuscript ? He received it from the hands of Grimm, when the latter fled from France in 17921 . How did the rough copy find its way to the Archives and the Arsenal ? It was brought thither in 1793–8 by the municipal authorities, who. in their turn, had found it among the papers of the émigré, Grimm.

Everything, therefore, conspires to point to Grimm as being bound up with the fate of the Mémoires from the first stage to the last. It is even probable, as Mrs Macdonald argues, that his chief occupation during the four months preceding his final flight from Paris (November, 1791—February, 1792), was to superintend the conversion of the rough draft into the fair COPY. And it is clearly the merest accident that prevented him from destroying the rough copy, with all its damning evidence, directly the fair copy was completed. The cleverest criminal seldom fails to leave some clue by which his misdeeds may be unravelled. And Grimm was clearly no exception to this salutary rule.

But after a11, you may say, men do not act without motives. And what motive had Grimm for blackening the character of

Rousseau Exactly the same, I conceive, as Didetot: a speculative motive, and a personal one. Rousseau was not only the most formidable opponent that the ‘philosophers ‘of the day had to meet; he was the only one worth reckoning. Grimm, therefore like the arch-philosopher Diderot, though certainly to a less degree, was goaded to action by the odium philosophicum which in this as in so many other instances, was no less potent a spur than the odium theologicum. That was the speculative passion which stirred the depths of these celestial souls.

But strong as was the speculative motive, with Grimm, as with Diderot, the personal motive was stronger yet. It may have sprung, as Lord Morley suggests, in the first instance from natural antipathy; though, considering that the two men were close friends for many years, I hardly think this a likely explanation In any case, the antipathy was not returned by Rousseau. It is plain to me that the moving cause of Grimm’s hatred was a not unnatural, but extremely displeasing, jealousy. It is clear that from the moment he had secured a footing in Mme d’Épinay’s house he made up his mind to get Rousseau out of it. The new lover looked askanee at the old friend, and never rested until he had induced his mistress to do likewise. He had already planted two actual or possible rivais, Francueil and Duclos, upon the doorstep He now proceeds, with relentless skill, to apply the same measure to Rousseau. In a series of letters, dating from the spring of 1756 to the final rupture at the end of 1757, he seizes every handle for exciting his mistress’resentments and suspicions. He even stoops to tell her, apparently with no ground for the assertion that Rousseau was in love with her himself. At last these manœuvres had the desired effect; and, under stern compulsion from her tyrant, she roughly ordered Rousseau out of the cottage where she had settled him, with every mark of friendliness, but twenty months before, A few days earlier, Grimm had himself broken violently with his hunted enemy; the letter in which he does so breathes rancour in every line. Is it reasonable to doubt that the man who had done all these things, and done them in this manner, was ready to use against his enemy every weapon that came within his reach? It is certain that he prepared the preposterous Mémoires for publication, Is it not probable that he had also a share in forging the slanders which they were destined to make current? Some of the worst of these occur in letters that purport to come from his own hand. And even supposing that these letters are not faked—as some of them demonstrably are—did he not make himself responsible for them twice over by passing them, years after, for the press?

Such, so far as I can judge, was the man whom Rousseau always regarded as the bitterest of his enemies. In Lord Morley’s book on Rousseau you will find a very different estimate. He discovers in Grimm a ‘helpfulness,’an ‘integrity,’above all, a ‘positivity ‘which is ‘very welcome.’Positivity| How sweet the name sounds in a believer’s ear| Yet I cannot but think that the use of it in this connection is most unfortunate. If by positivity we mean a certain quality of mind, a high, dry, rather cold strain of reasonableness, then I admit that it deserves our full respect. It is not the greatest quality of which man is capable. But it is a useful and, in its place, an indispensable one. We may well agree with Lord Morley that ‘there is too little, rather than too much, of it in the world.’But if we mean the constant elbowing of ourselves and our own interests to the front, if we mean that the positive man is he who persistently tramples on the weak and licks the dust before those who are stronger and richer and more powerful than himself, then may heaven préserve me from positivity| Self-seeking, lying, slandering, and flattery— I should wish to keep a good word for better things than these.

I have said ‘flattery and self-seeking.’And I might have used much stronger words than these. Turn for a moment to his private correspondence with the potentates of the day—he was tame cat to at least three of them—and you will come across strange things. His adulation of them varies between the blasphemous and the burlesque, The following is a sample of his blasphemy ‘Here,’he writes to the Duchess of Saxe-Gotha, who had rebuked him for his insinuations against Rousseau, ‘Here, Madame, you have my confession of faith. I lay it on the altar of goodness and wisdom which, like the Word, has become flesh and we have seen it and its image dwells among us.’Was there ever such a profanation of a great text as this? And here is an instance of his involuntary burlesque. He has just received a letter from Catherine of Russia, murderess and wanton, and he tells her that ‘it makes him weep like a calf. The earthquake of Lisbon is a mere puppet-show, by the side of the agitation it has given him.’It was a bad habit with the philosophers to pour flattery upon this amazing woman. You will find plenty of it in Voltaire s letters to his ‘Minerva ‘and ‘Saint Catherine.’But I do not remember anything so abject as this of Grimm’s. It is clear that the positivity of Grimm, whatever else it may have been was not exactly of the altruistic, or Comtist, variety.

The truth is that, when Lord Morley wrote, comparatively little was known about this highly questionable man. Since then, two new sources of information have been thrown open, and his character is set in an entirely new light. One of these is his private correspondence with ‘certain persons of importance,’ The other is the book by Mrs Macdonald of which I have spoken so often The former proves him, out of his own mouth, to have been a sycophant. The latter furnishes a clue by which, for the first time, the tangled web of the Mémoires has been successfully unravelled In the light of these revelations, I confess I should be much surprised if Lord Morley still thinks of Grimm as favourably as he did. If he does, I for one should be compelled reluctantly to dissent.

Even apart from these recent revelations, I must own that the verdict I speak of seems to me surprising. For even without Mrs Macdonald’s clue, a careful study of the Mémoires proves— as it seems to me, beyond all doubt—that, in his dealings with Rousseau, Grimm was both spiteful and mendacious. I need only refer back to the evidence already mentioned, reminding you that the bulk of it is drawn, doubtless with Mrs Macdonald’s aid, from the letters and statements of the Mémoires. But it is ungrateful to find fault with a writer to whom we all owe so much as to Lord Morley— no one more than myself. And it is only right to say that he has been far more cautious in his use of the Mémoires than most of those who have handled this uncommonly treacherous weapon.

One word more about Grimm and his fellow conspirators, and I have done with this branch of the subject. Of the three, I should judge Mme d’Épinay to have been the least guilty, and to have done her task most thoroughly against the grain. She was the one I believe, who took the least initiative in the matter. It is obvious that, where Grimm was concerned, she had no will of her own Next in the scale, I should place Diderot, whose amazing weakness we have already seen, and who, like the lady, was probably a mere puppet in the hands of Grimm. But his misstatements must have been made with more or less of consciousness and deliberation. He is not, therefore, to be let off as lightly as Mme d’Épinay. Worst of all, there can be little doubt, was Grimm the villain, so far as I can see, of this most discreditable piece. It was he who, on his own shewing, laid the train for the breach between Mme d’Épinay and Rousseau. It was he who fired it. And it was he who took measures for the ultimate publication of the slanders embodied in the Mémoires.

And if we ask how it was that, with all their labour, they could produce no better refutation of the story told in the Confessions the answer is: it was because they had nothing better to give. The charges of the Confessions, I conclude, were substantially true. If met at all, they could be met only by forgery and lies. These were supplied to order in the Mémoires. It was only ask and you shall have. And this is the book which has been taken for gospel, and its authoress sainted as the’ slave of truth1 .’

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[1]L’ordre naturel et essentiel des sociétés politiques, by Le Mercier de la Rivière. (1767): one of the most aggressive of the Physiocrat manifestoes.

[2]‘Il me semble que ‘wanting in R. D,

[3]Originally, d’applications, de combinaisons.

[4]Here follows in R. D. the broken sentence : [Des guerres, des famines, des épidémies, mille causes sans cesse renaissantes, exigent des combinais-].

[1]S. M. has Là, nul n’a d’autre clef que la nécessité du premier occupant

[2]S. M. has pendant.

[3]S. M. has étaient . . .et quand.

[4]S, M. has parvient.

[5]S. M. has leur nombreuse famille.

[1]Written on v° of p. 30.

[2]S. M. has il n’avait point.

[3]Or, ils étaient bons et justes.

[4]S. M. has chaumières.

[5][jurée.]

[1]MS. était.

[2]MS, avait

[3]Written on v° of p. 35.

[4]See Introduction to Lettres de la Montagne. S. M. reads craint le sourcil.

[1]MS, elle. This, unless it refers to constitution (which would be awkward), must be a slip.

[2]The following is written on v° of p. 36: ‘II y a dans tous les États un progrès, un développement naturel et nécessaire depuis leur naissance jusqu à leur destruction. Pour rendre leur durée aussi longue et aussi belle qu’il est possible, il vaut mieux en marquer le premier terme avant qu’après ce point de vigueur . Il ne faut pas vouloir que la Corse soit tout d’un coup ce qu’elle peut être; il vaut mieux qu’elle y parvienne et qu’elle monte que d’y être à l’instant même et ne faire plus que décliner; le dépérissement où elle est ferait de son état de vigueur un e’tat très faible, au lieu qu’en la disposant pour y atteindre, cet état sera dans la suite un état très bon .’ It is preceded by the words: ‘N. B, à placer.’.

[3]S. M. reads devait, and tournait.

[4]Written in above.

[5]This paragraph is followed by the hastily scribbled word: ‘ci-après.’ The closing sentence reappears in Part II; p. 351.

[1]S.M., au centre, and ne leur laissent rien à démêler.

[2]S. M., et au luxe.

[3]S. M. reads nécessairement, and ses projets d’ambition; in both cases, against the MS.

[4]S. M. reads et.

[5]S. M. reads et.

[6]Written in opposite. S. M. reads professions instructives.

[7]S.M. omits this sentence.

[1]The connection of thought is with the paragraph ending d’y borner ses projets de l’ambition. The two intervening paragraphs give the historical origin of the conditions which have to be met.

[2]S. M. omits des pères, and reads à l’État.

[3]Written on v° of p. 40, without mark of référence; but manifestly it belongs here. It is omitted by S. M.

[4]S. M. reads par classe.

[5]S. M. reads indirectement. For the oath, see p. 350.

[1]S. M. reads étant and omits et before jouissent, against both MS. And sensé.

[2]S. M. reads ceux for la dot.

[3]S. M. reads ne suffit pas.

[4]S. M. omits de, against the MS. De fermiers dépends upon manufacture.

[5]S. M. reads eux-memes.

[6]S. M. reads courtage débaucheur; s’attacheront, perdront, feront.

[1]S. M. reads animent.

[2]S. M. omits ou.

[3]S. M. reads la.

[4]S. M. has misread this sentence.

[5]S. M. reads ligne.

[6]After this sentence Rousseau had origînally written the following and then cancelled it: [Voyons maintenant par quels moyens on peut rendre ce signe fatal le moins nécessaire sans nuire . . ..Le besoin de l’espèce monnoyée augmente ou diminue dans un État, à mesure que les échanges y deviennent plus ou (sic) nécessaires et que le Gouvernement y devient plus ou moins dispendieux Ainsi sans le [commerce et sans les finances] négoce, les particuliers n’auraient aucun besoin d’argent; et sans les finances publiques, l’État n’en aurait aucun besoin non plus.]

[ Variants: Si les particuliers n’avaient point de négoce, ils n’auraient aucun besoin d’argent, Ôtez le négoce, les particuliers n’auraient . . ..]

[1]S. M. omits pour leur usage.

[2]S. M. has au dehors.

[3]S. M. has strangely misread this sentence.

[1]S. M. omits de leurs meubles.

[2]S. M. reads des registres.

[1]S. M. reads mais for soit.

[2]S. M., against the MS., relative.

[3]S. M. reads prendraient.

[4]MS. has la alone. This may either be intended for là, le being omitted by a slip; or it may be written, by a slip, for le.

[5][Originally this followed: ‘Personne donc n’ayant d’autre intérêt aux traites des denrées d’une province à l’autre que celui de la nécessité, ces traites se proportionnent toujours au besoin.’] Top of p. 52 r°.

[1]Or, des nécessaires.

[2]Or, les.

[3]S. M. reads de moins en moins commodes.

[4]S. M. reads imposante.

[5]S. M. reads les.

[6]MS. et que contents.

[7]S. M. reads était de première nécessité, au moins, l’objet, etc.

[1]S. M. has de misère, de vexations.

[2]I cannot be sure that ‘bases’ is the reading of the MS. It may be ‘vues.’ Parties, the original reading, is cancelled.

[3]S. M, has made strange work of thèse sentences, which are very ill-written. S’en frayant seems strange; but the MS. is here perfectly clear. It may possibly be a slip for en se frayant

[4]S. M. reads en particulier.

[5]A slight variant on this, at top of p. 54 v°, cancelled.

[1]S. M. reads à s’assurer.

[2]Là-dessus on peut lire Pre (or Rre) . . .; où je vis (or vois) des lueurs de prévoyance. [Note de J.-J. R] It is omitted by S. M.

[3]S. M. reads prévoir les besoins.

[1]S. M, omits et.

[1]Or, ambitions. S. M. omits the word. He marks an interval, which is not in the MS., after abondance.

[2]Or, pourvoir. S. M. reads procurer.

[3]S. M. reads importation, against MS, and sensé.

[4]S.M. reads même

[5]S. M. omits this clause.

[1]S. M. reads une invention moderne.

[2]S. M. omits this sentence.

[3]S. M. reads de tous cens, and he may be right; or it may be, de tous censes, which I suspect to be Rousseau’s form for cens. See above, p. 316.

[4]S. M. reads on ne leur fournissait point, in défiance of MS. and sensé.

[5]This sentence is inserted on v° of p. 59.

[1]Rousseau must have intended to write pendant toute la durée.

[2]S. M. reads vies.

[3]S. M. omits pour dire mieux.

[4]S. M. reads s’engageant.

[5]S. M. reads qui, par lui-même, aura sa subsistance, quipourra, etc.

[6]MS. has à, by a slip.

[7]S. M. omits le.

[1]S. M, reads avant que ses territoires conquis appartinssent encore au peuple.

[2]S. M. reads existe.

[3]Or, les.

[4]S. M. reads Lors de la réformation, ces cantons s’emparèrent.

[5]Or, par; S. M. misreads avec.

[6]I cannot be sure that I have deciphered the MS. correctly. It may be bien vexé. S. M. reads ne peut pas se trouver vexé.

[7]S. M, has plutôt que leurs bras, against MS. and sense.

[1]This paragraph reappears in Part II (p. 355).

[2][justice.]

[3]S. M. reads plus embarrassants, without authority.

[4]S. M. omits n’est, and runs this and the next sentence together.

[1]S. M. reads ait.

[2]Rousseau had originally written: ‘Mais son succès dans la Suisse, où il est établi depuis des siècles, prouve qu’il y a des Gouvernements auxquels il est convenable et qu’il y peut réussir.’

[3]S. M. reads leur pénible et fâcheux exemple, without authority .

[4]For et couvrent the MS. reading may be couvrant. S. M. reads par l’estime donnée à l’abondance, dont les avantages couvrent, without authority.

[5]S. M. omits un..

[6]I cannot be sure that I have deciphered the reading in this clause. S. M. reads c’est le financier; rien de pire que ce modèle; il ne faut point de publicains. Whatever else the reading may be, it is not this.

[7]S. M. reads de la régie des recettes, against MS. and sense.

[1]The same instance is given in the Gouvernement de Pologne; below, p. 482.

[2]S. M. reads mais à cet office d’administrateur on est tenu de passer, et il faut, against the MS.

[3]After ‘revenus,’ ‘taxes’ is written in MS. and then apparently cancelled. S. M. reads que les administrateurs seront augmentés.

[4]S.M. omits Le receveur de, probably by a slip.

[5]Rousseau has slipped into language which would have been suitable to France. S. M, alters the phrase into toute la république, and omits petits before magasins.

[6]S. M. reads mis

[1]S. M. has à même d’apercevoir.

[2]I cannot be sure of this word. S. M. reads timon.

[3]‘proportion’ was originally written in MS.and then cancelled. S.M. reads moyenne

[4]S.M. reads ne deviennent. The next word might possibly be ainsi.

[5]S.M. reverses the order of these two clauses; he also reads contirbuables, in the clause preceding.

[6]In MS. ‘a’ is written before ‘faut ‘by a slip.

[1]S. M. reads on ôtera en réforme de la fotune

[2]The words ‘du crédit public’ are followed by a gap in the MS. With this paragraph compare Vol. I. pp. 345–6.

[3]S. M. reads n’accordant and, below, font for pour.

[4]S. M. reads voulant.

[1]S. M. omits indifféremment.

[2]After ‘d’agir’ the following sentence was originally written in MS. and then cancelled: [On n’a jamais pu faire travailler les sauvages, parce qu’ils ne désirent rien. Les Européens n’ont pu jamais les attirer à leur manière de vivre, parce qu’ils n’en font aucun cas.]

[3]S. M. reverses the order of this and the preceding clause (qui font etc.)

[4]Written opposite (p. 69)

[5]Rousseau had originally written ‘Ils recherchent’ and ‘ils leur donnent.

[6]S. M. omits this sentence.

[1]For the application of these distinctions to individual character, see Dialogues I. and II. (Euvres, ix. pp. 107–9, 194–204).

[2]S. M. reads et for elle. At top of p. 69 v° two sentences written are in, with line drawn between them and no mark of reference to either:

(1) De cette dépendance mutuelle, qu’on croit être le lien de la société, naissent tous les vices qui la détruisent.

(2) Le peuple anglais n’aime pas la liberté par elle-même; il l’aime parce qu’elle produit de l’argent.

[3]S. M. omits et,

[4]’soin’ omitted by a slip.

[5]Written in above; omitted by S. M.

[1]S. M. misreads as follows: ‘Ainsi, quelque passion à laquelle un peuple ou un homme soient enclins, s’ils en ont de viles, ils aspireront vilement à la puissance; soit comme fin, s’ils sont orgueilleux ou vains; soit comme moyen, s’ils sont vindicatifs ou voluptueux

[2]S. M. reads s’enrichissent.

[3]S. M. omits que, in defiance of the sense. The construction, though hardly regular, is intelligible.

[4]S. M. reads le.

[5]Written, with no mark of reference, on v° of p. 70.

[1]Compare Vol. I. p. 332.

[2]S. M. reads des.

[3]S. M. reads se trouve

[4]S. M. omits en.

[1]Written at top of p. 70. Line drawn between it and ‘mais selon la leur’(above, p. 345; the paragraph beginning ‘Deux états contraires ‘).

[2]S. M. reads par

[3]There is a gap in the MS. after puisqu’; and it may be that the sentence is unfinished, If so, Il faut will begin a new sentence, as S. M., who omits puisqu’, supposes. But the text, as it stands, makes good sense.

[1]Written at top of p. 70. Line drawn between it and ‘mais selon la leur’(above, p. 345; the paragraph beginning ‘Deux états contraires ‘).

[4]Here begins the second Note-book (see Introduction).

[5]S. M. omits this clause.

[5]S. M. omits this clause.

[1]S. M. omits un.

[2]The amount is left blank.

[1]Or, inviolable.

[2]‘dans l’espace de’-possibly cancelled. S. M. omits it, and changes trois into quatre.

[2]‘dans l’espace de’-possibly cancelled. S. M. omits it, and changes trois into quatre.

[3]S. M. reads peut en avoir.

[1]See above, p. 323.

[2]S. M. reads gravement.

[1]Broken off.

[2]i.e. Genoa.

[1]S. M. omits de citoyen.

[1]Variant, , not cancelled.

[2]This word wanting in MS.

[1]See above, p. 339.

[1]S. M. has leurs for cent.

[2]MS. has ‘qu’ils les trompent,’ by a slip.

[3][Soyez tranquille; ma vie et mon cœur sont à vous. C’est tout dire.]

[3][Soyez tranquille; ma vie et mon cœur sont à vous. C’est tout dire.]

[1]Originally this cancelled sentence followed: ‘ce que vous ne feriez sûrement pas, si vous pensiez que ces troupes allassent en Corse avec de mauvaises intentions, pour attenter à la liberté.’

[1]i.e. the Roman Law. Buttafuoco’s reply to this implied question is: ‘Nous avons, il est vrai, un corps de lois civiles: c’est le Statut de Corse. Mais je crois qu’il serait mieux de le refondre, ou de l’adapter au système politique, que de former celui-ci sur le Statut  . . .. Si vous le désirez, je vous ferai tenir le Statut et d’autres ouvrages sur la Corse ∗ (Oct. 3, 1764).

[2]Originally this cancelled sentence followed: ‘Vos lettres m’ont ôté le peu de sommeil qui me restait. Nuit et jour, je rêve à la Corse.’

[1]Ed. 1782 attaches dans ces circonstances to the preceding sentence.

[1]Ed. 1782 attaches dans ces circonstances to the preceding sentence.

[2]R. D. has pourrait-il se résoudre.

[1]Wanting in R. D.

[1]Wanting in R. D.

[2]R. D. has des bourgs, des paroisses

[3]de la noblesse, wanting in R. D.

[4]R. D. has ses amusements dans les deux sexes et dans tous les états, sa discipline, sa manière de faire la guerre, etc.

[4]R. D. has ses amusements dans les deux sexes et dans tous les états, sa discipline, sa manière de faire la guerre, etc.

[5]jusqu’à ce moment, wanting in R. D.

[6]R. D. has le Gouvernement présent, l’administration de la justice, les revenus publics, l’ordre économique, comment s’imposent et se payent les taxes.

[6]R. D. has le Gouvernement présent, l’administration de la justice, les revenus publics, l’ordre économique, comment s’imposent et se payent les taxes.

[7]R. D. has here C’est à ceux qui rédigent les mémoires de faire là-dessus un choix judicieux. En général, etc.

[8]Wanting in R. D. The rest of the draft, which it would be useless to print, is taken up with directions as to ‘moyens pour me faire parvenir vos envois.’

[8]Wanting in R. D. The rest of the draft, which it would be useless to print, is taken up with directions as to ‘moyens pour me faire parvenir vos envois.’

[1]The copy contains here the following omitted by S. M.: ‘je ne vois plus rien qu’un étang devant moi.’ The copyist confesses his doubts as to étang.

[1]S.M. omits censurer et.

[1]S.M. omits censurer et.

[1]Rousseau’s guess was right. This is Buttafuoco’s reply (Oct. 19, 1765): ‘Vous m’inspirez une bien bonne idée d’un petit manuscrit daté de Vescovado. Mais, monsieur, il n’est pas de moi; il est à vous, à Machiavel et au Président de Montesquieu. Je n’ai que le faible mérite d’avoir cousu vos idées. Trop heureux, si ce travail est adaptable au pays pour lequel j’ai fait cette recherche !’

[1]This is a quotation from the Chapter du Législateur. C. S. II. vii

[1]This is a quotation from the Chapter du Législateur. C. S. II. vii

[2]This is a quotation from the Chapter du Peuple. C. S. II. x. The closing sentence is inaccurately quoted. S. M. reads elle peut se suffire.

[2]This is a quotation from the Chapter du Peuple. C. S. II. x. The closing sentence is inaccurately quoted. S. M. reads elle peut se suffire.

[1]S. M. omits cela.

[2]i.e. his Memoir, in which the reference to Montesquieu is repeated.

[3]S. M. misreads qui vous sont acquis. Ed. 1782 (XII. p. 413) gives some extracts from this letter, but most incorrectly.

[1]See P.S. to Letter I; above, p. 358.

[2]It may be remarked that another account of the incident described on p. 364 will be found in Rousseau’s letter to Mme de Verdelin of Feb. 3,1765;Œuvres, XL p. 209.

[1]‘J’etais déterminé . . .à renoncer totalement à la grande société, à la composition des livres, à tout commerce de littérature, et à me renfermer pour le reste de mes jours dans la sphère étroite et paisible pour laquelle je me sentais né.’ Confessions, Liv. x. (1759). Compare: ‘Louez-moi d’une seule chose: d’avoir pris la plume à quarante ans et de l’avoir quittée à cinquante. Car vous savez que telle était ma résolution, et le Traité de l’éducation devait être mon dernier ouvrage, quand j’aurais encore vécu cinquante ans.’ Letter to Roustan of Dec. 23,1761. Œuvres, x. p. 294.

[2]Lettre à Christophe de Beaumont, 1763; Lettres de la Montagne, 1764.

[3]‘Ce que je vous promets, et sur quoi vous pouvez compter dès à présent, est que, pour le reste de ma vie, je ne serai plus occupé que de moi ou de la Corse: toute autre affaire est entièrement bannie de mon esprit.’ Letter to Buttafucco of May 26, 1765.

[1]There was a formal alliance between Frederick and Catherine, among the terms of which were that Poniatowski was to be King of Poland and that all attempts to abolish the liberum veto and elective monarchy were to be barred out as ‘principes injustes et dangereux aux Puissances voisines.’ (Sorel, La question d’Orient au xvIIIme siècle, p. 15.)

[2]Thus, in the Diet of 1767, the Russians compelled the appointment of a Commission with full powers, which sat under the eye of the Russian Envoy. The leaders of the opposition were packed off to Siberia. The liberum veto was confirmed for all time. See Martin, Histoire de France, xvI. p. 264.

[1]See Martin, xvI. pp. 256–9.

[2]A small French force had been despatched by Choiseul to aid the Confederates. It was under Dumouriez. Ib. p. 269. The Confederates even laid an ambush for Stanislas (Oct. 1771). See Mouy, Correspondance de Stanislas et de Mme Geoffrin, pp. 414–5.

[3]Lettre à M. de Natzmer (1731). Sorel quotes from it the following: Ayant déjà dit que les pays prussiens sont si entrecoupés et séparés, je crois que le plus nécessaire des projets que l’on doit faire est de rapprocher ou de recoudre les pièces détachées qui appartiennent aux parties que nous possédons, telles que la Prusse polonaise . . ..Je ne raisonne qu’en pur politique, et sans alléguer les raisons du droit, afin de ne pas trop faire des digressions.’ Question d’Orient, pp. 19–20. Œuvres de Frédéric, xvI. p. 3.

[4]See the proposals of the mysterious Comte de Lynar, perhaps an alias for Frederick, in Feb. 1769, Sorel, pp. 43–6.

[1]Sorel, pp. 45–150

[2]Austria had no part in the second partition. In the Napoleonic troubles, Prussia was forced to disgorge much of what she had taken in the second, and all she had taken in the third, partition. These districts now belong to Russia. Is the Great wrong to be at last redressed (June, 1915)?

[3]The first Part of Mably’s Treatise is subscribed Aug.31,1770; the second Part, July 9, 1771. The former was sent, as soon as finished, to Wielhorski.

[4]See Section II. pp. 390–5.

[5]Je dois ajouter que Jean-Jacques, au milieu de tout ce travail manuel, a encore employé six mois dans le même intervalle tant à l’examen de la constitution d’une nation malheureuse, qu’à proposer ses idées sur les corrections à faire à cette constitution; et cela sur les instances, réitérées jusqu’à l’opiniâtreté, d’un des premiers patriotes de cette malheureuse nation, qui lui faisait un devoir d’humanité des soins qu’il imposait: ‘Dialogues, II.; Œuvres, IX p. 218. Compare the letter to Wielhorski of April 20, 1774: ‘Lorsque vous me recherchâtes avec tant d’empressement, je n’ignorais pas dès lors vos liaisons avec des gens qui ne cachent si soigneusement la haine qu’ils me portent qu’afin de la mieux assouvir . . . .C’était le travail de six mois dans un temps dont ma situation me rendait un autre emploi nécessaire.’ I take the ‘employment ‘referred to to be that of copying music. But, if we could take the earlier date for the treatise, it might mean the completion of the Confessions on the last book of which he was apparently at work during the winter of 1770–1. (See Jansen, Recherches, pp. 60–2.) It is curious that in the second letter to Wielhorski (July 1, 1774), he says: ‘J’y reconnus avec la plus incroyable surprise l’écrit qu’avec tant d’instances . . . .vous m’arrachâtes il y a quelques années.’ This would be an unusual phrase for anything short of three years.

[1]Since this was written, the Wielhorski MS., that actully used by du Peyrou for the press, has been discovered at Cracow. I leave this and similar passages, as they were originally written, making corrections, where necessary in the Notes. For a full account of the Wielhorski MS. see §§ III and IV.

[1]Corrections of a like kind, though without any corresponding mark in the Manuscript, appear in the Editio princeps throughout the long section (pp. 37–58) noticed below (§ III.), which forms about one-quarter of the whole treatise.

[2]That is, if we may assume that the Editors of the 1801 Edition made, as they claim, a faithful collation of that copy. We can check them only in the three paragraphs about Stanislas, omitted by du Peyrou. Their version of these embodies the corrections pencilled by du Peyrou upon the Neuchâtel MS. I suspect, however, that, except for the passage about Stanislas, they simply copied the Editio princeps.

[1]It was published by the Comte de Girardin in the Bulletin du Bibliophile of Dec. 15, 1909. For an account of it, see Section v.

[2]MS. Neuehâtel, 7923.

[3]See below, pp. 419–421. Nor is there anything in MS. (Neuch.) 7923.

[4]Horochow is in Volhynia, about 50 miles to the north-east of Lemberg, then generally known as Leopol. The MS. has been discovered at Cracow.

[1]Discours sur l’inégalité, Vol. I. p. 183.

[1]Chap. VIII. pp. 463–5.

[2]Chap. VII. pp. 457–8.c

[3]Chap. IX. pp. 467–470.

[4]Chap. XI.

[5]Chap. IV.

[6]Chap. XIII.

[7]He was justified in saying: ‘Vous avez pu voir, dans vos liaisons, que je ne suis pas visionnaire et, dans le Contrat social, que je n’ai jamais approuvé le Gouvernement démocratique’ (to d’Ivernois, Jan. 31, 1767),

[8]And that, in the face of his verdict ‘que l’aristocratie est la pire des souverainetés’ (Jugement sur la Polysynodie compare C. S. III. x.).

[1]The phrase is from Burke’s Reflections.

[2]Chap.I.

[3]Ib.

[1]Du Gouvernement de la Pologne, I. v.; II. v. ‘Dans la situation actuelle des choses, j’ose avancer que, bien loin de ne conférer la royauté que pour quelques années, il importe au contraire à la Pologne de rendre la couronne héréditaire.’ Mably, Œuvres, VIII. p. 38.

[2]Chap. VIII. Compare C.S. III. vi.

[1]Chap. IV.

[2]See above, p. 142.

[3]Émile, Liv. I. above, p. 146.

[4]‘On peut juger par là que ce ne sont pas Jes études ordinaires, dirigées par des étrangers et des prêtres, que je voudrais faire suivre aux enfants.’ Chap IV. p. 438.

[1]It must be remembered, however, that, owing to the recent suppression of the Jesuit Order, the moment was exceptionally favourable. It is said, indeed that, in the interval between the first and the second partition, the Commission of Education did succeed in carrying through many useful reforms. Cambridge Modern History, VI. 669.

[2]‘On dit qu’à cet égard (la superstition) vous avez besoin d’une grande réforme; mais il serait dangereux de la tenter, si les ecclésiastiques n’en sentent pas eux-mêmes la nécessité . . ..C’est avec la même sagesse qu’il faut ménager les abus de la juridiction ecclésiastique, qui confond la religion et la superstition et autorise la morale la plus relâchée . . ..Nous avons en français plusieurs excellents ouvrages sur les droits et les bornes des deux puissances; s’ils étaient traduites en polonais, il n’est pas possible qu’après avoir peutêtre un peu scandalisé ils ne parvinssent enfin à persuader les bons esprits.’ Mably Œuvres, VIII. pp. 88, 115, 117. It must be remarked that Mably says not one word of education, a striking instance of his utter lack of insight and imagination.

[1]Gouvernement de Pologne, Chap. XIII.

[1]See below, p. 445. For Mercier’s comment, see above, p. 15.

[2]C. S. III. viii. In II. xi. (p. 62), he admits ‘national character’ as factor.

[3]‘La loi de la nature, cette loi sainte, imprescriptible, qui parle au cœur de l’homme et à sa raison, ne permet pas qu’on resserre ainsi l’autorité législative, et que les lois obligent quiconque n’y a pas voté personnellement, ou du moins par ses représentants; et l’état de faiblesse, où une si grande nation se trouve réduite, est l’ouvrage de cette barbarie féodale qui fait retrancher du corps de l’État sa partie la plus nombreuse, et quelquefois la plus saine . . . Nobles Polonais ! soyez plus, soyez hommes; alors seulement vous serez heureux et libres. Mais ne vous flattez jamais de l’être, tant que vous tiendrez vos frères dans les fers.’. Below, Chap. VI. p. 445.

[1]Mably, I. xiv.; Œuvres, VIII. pp. 154–6.

[2]Gouvernement de Pologne, Chap, v. p. 442.

[1]In extenuation of Rousseau’s loose use of terms, it must be remembered that as he says himself (C. S. III, xv.), ‘the whole subject was entirely new and its first principles still to make.’

[2]Chap. v. p. 443. Compare, ‘Si la Pologne était, selon mon désir, une Confédération de trente-trois petits États, elle réunirait la force des grandes monarchies et la liberté des petites Républiques,’ Chap, XI p. 483.

[3]Chap. VIII. below, p. 457.

[4]Chap. VI. below, p. 460.

[1]pp. 451, 460.

[1]Éc. pol., Vol. I. p. 245; C. S. (Geneva MS.), I. vii.; Vol. I. p. 475.

[2]C. S. II. vi.

[3]Letter to Mirabeau. See above, pp. 159–160.

[4]Vol I. p. 298. Compare, ‘Un homme qui n’aurait point de passions serait certainement un fort mauvais citoyen.’ Éc. pol., Vol. I. p. 255.

[1]Chap, IV. p. 437,

[2]Chap. XIII.

[3]Mably, I. xi.; Œuvres, VIII. pp. 113–4.

[1]See, in particular, his remarks on the foreign policy of Poland, I. vii.; II. vi.

[2]Gouvernement de Pologne, Chap. IX. What makes this the more significant is that, in the Contrat social, Rousseau had roundly condemned all ‘partial societies.’ C. S. II. iii.; IV. viii. Mably wholly condemns Confederations, I. ii.; II. iv.; Œuvres, VIII. pp. 20–2, 175–8. As for the liberum veto, Rousseau accepts it in the case of ‘fundamental laws,’ which he regards as a kind of social contract (compare C. S. IV. ii.); and even in other cases, on pain of death, should the author of the veto be condemned by his Dietine and a national tribunal, Chap. IX. Mably condemns it, root and branch (I. ii.).

[1]The garbling of the title goes back at least as far as the Edition of 1801.

[1]See the two passages quoted above, pp. 372–3 (Dialogue II., and the letter to Wielhorski of April 20, 1774).

[2]This is borne out by the title of the Mirabeau MS., as given in the Catalogue of the sale of his books (p. 383). There the latter part of the title runs thus ‘et sur la réforme projettée; par J.-J. Rousseau, en Avril 1772.’ It is exactly the same in Coindet’s copy; save that a line is there drawn between the title and the author’s name. In the Neuchâtel MS. the title ends with ‘et sur sa réformation projettée.’ There is no author’s name nor date

[3]i.e. whether we take ‘par J.-J. Rousseau, en Avril, 1772’ to depend on ‘projettée,’ or on ‘écrites’ understood, The former explanation would be the more natural. But the punctuation of the Mirabeau MS. is in favour of the latter.

[1]A letter from Rousseau to Wielhorski, containing congratulations on the capture of Czestochowa by the Confederates, is preserved in the Ossolinski Institute at Lemberg. It is undated, but (from internal evidence) dateable in September or October, 1770 (Annales de J.-J. Rousseau for 1911, p. 76). It may be that, when this letter was written, Wielhorski had already asked Rousseau to give advice upon the affairs of Poland. That would not necessarily imply that Rousseau had yet consented to do so. Indeed the letter quoted in § IV. (April, 1774) would seem to imply that he hesitated long before consenting.

[2]Chap. v. p. 442.

[3]Chap. VII. p. 447.

[4]Chap, VIII. p. 464. There is a third allusion to Sweden in Chap. XV.: ‘La libert passe dans toutes les cours pour une manie de visionnaires, qui tend plus à affaiblir qu’à renforcer l’État...; et c’est pour cela qu’aujourd’hui la Russie favorise le Gouvernement présent de Suède, et contrecarre de toutes ses forces les projets du Roi.’ The ‘présent Government’ can only mean the highly limited monarchy existing before Gustav’s coup d’État. This passage, therefore confirais the inference drawn above from the two others.

[1]Gustav was in Paris at the time of his accession. Rousseau, at his request, allowed him to see the Confessions.

[2]I do not know in what month of 1772 the Annual Register for 1771 was published. But it must have been long before September. Mr Bain, in Slavonic Europe, says that the project of partition was presented by the Russian Envoy, Stackelberg, to the Polish ministers on Sept. 7, 1771 (p. 395). If this date is correct, the news must have spread over Europe by the end of the year. But, allowing for the différence of O.S. and N.S., the date has a suspicious resemblance to Sept 18, 1772 (see above).

[3]Or rather, at any moment before the Neuchâtel MB. was written out.

[1]As has been pointed out in a previous note, Rousseau’s letter to Wielhorski of Sept, or Oct. 1770 may mean that Rousseau had then already been approaohed by Wielhorski on the matter, though not necessarily that he had consented to write.

[2]The reason for doubting whether the second part also was before him is that, in that part, Mably does little more than repeat and end orce the views he had already expressed in the first part.

[3]There are several points on which Rousseau differs from Mably, and on which he seems to write with Mably in his eye; e.g. the position of the Senate, which Mably desired to strip of all share in legislation (Mably, I. Chaps. ii., viii; Rousseau, Chap. VI.); the proposed division of the Senate into executive commissions (Mably, I. iii.; Rousseau, Chap. VII.); the powers of the Dietines (Mably, III.; Rousseau, VI.); finance—in particular, the proposai for a stamp-tax and for the sale of the starosties (Mably, XIV.; Rousseau, XL); the liberum veto and Confederations (Mably, I. ii.; II. iv.; Rousseau, IX.); and finally the question between hereditary and elective monarchy (Mably, I. v., vii.; II v.; Rousseau, VII., XIV.). It is difficult to believe that Rousseau was not consciously combating Mably in most, if not all, of these cases. And the reference to Mably seems especially clear in the case of the proposal to divide the Senate into various executive commissions, to introduce a strict police into the Diets and Dietines, to abolish Confederations, and to impose a stamp-tax; perhaps also in Rousseau’s argument against hereditary monarchy Mably is said to have spent some time in Poland, before writing.

On the other hand, it must be confessed that one Chapter in Part II of Mably’s Memoir that about the liberum veto and the Confederations, looks suspiciously as if it might have been written in reply to Rousseau, who, in that case, would be ‘l’auteur d’un des mémoires que vous avez eu la bonté de me communiquer ‘(Œuvres, VIII. p. 175). But, in that case, either the date in the Editio princeps of Rousseau’s treatise and in the Mirabeau MS. (April, 1772) must be an error—which I think is impossible; or this particular Chapter must have been added by Mably later. Compare above, pp. 389–390.

[1]This Section was printed before the discovery of the Wielhorski MS. at Cracow. I have thought best to leave it as it stood, adding the necessary corrections (which are not of Great importance) in the Notes.

[1]See below, p. 421. There is, however, one other passage—that about Bern,—which, though wanting in Ed. 1782, is present not only in the Neuchâtel Manuscript, but also (in exactly the same words) in the Coindet Copy, which was clearly taken from the Wielhorski version, or (more probably) from some autograph or copy representing a stage intermediate between N. and W.

[1]The latter passage is to be found in Coindet’s Copy, which was made either from the final version, or (more probably) from one intermediate between the Neuchâtel and Wielhorski Manuscripts.

[1]The latter passage is to be found in Coindet’s Copy, which was made either from the final version, or (more probably) from one intermediate between the Neuchâtel and Wielhorski Manuscripts.

[1]Its absence from Naigeon’s Edition ought, of course, to mean that it was wanting in the Mirabeau MS.—apparently a copy of the Wielhorski MS.—which Naigeon claims to have taken as the base of his text. I wish I could feel more certain than I do that he did his work in a scholarly fashion. But its omission from Coindet’s copy seems to settle the question.

[2]The passage about Canton Bern will be found below, p. 478.

[3]See the note in question, printed at the end of the treatise (p. 516).

[4]The last initial, G, ends in a flourish, which may contain the final letters, in. Exactly the same monogram (L. R.) occurs in Girardin’s letter to Mme du Peyrou of Oct, 16, 1779; the surname is here written in full (MS. Neuchâtel, 7923).

[1]See the account of the correspondenee between Wielhorski, Girardin and others (1778–9), given in Section IV.

[2]See his letter to du Peyrou of Oct. 4, 1778 (MS. Neuchâtel, 7923).

[3]For the above facts, see Section IV.

[4]‘Mon dépositaire universel.’ Rousseau’s letter to du Peyrou of Jan. 24, 1765, Œuvres, XI. p. 202.

[5]Biographie Neuchâteloise, p. 301.

[6]Girardin was doubtless speaking on what he had been told by Thérèse and possibly, by Wielhorski also. I suspect, however, that this note was written before he had opened communications with Wielhorski. It contains no hint that Wielhorski’s Manuscript might be secured for printing. The loan of that once promised, there was, in fact, little use in asking Foulquier for his copy. Moreover, oddly enough, the note appears to be intended not for du Peyrou, but for Moultou.

[1]Rousseau, Œuvres, XI. p. 164. The evidence for Rousseau’s later intercourse with Foulquier is to be found in Girardin’s letter to du Peyrou of Oct 7, 1779. It there appears that the M. F∗∗∗, mentioned in the Rêveries (IV.) is no other than Foulquier (MS. Neuchâtel, 7923; Rousseau, Œuvres, IX. p 354).

[2]It must be remembered that, after Rousseau had parted with the Wielhorski MS., the Neuchâtel version was apparently the only one at his disposal. Girardin, indeed, in his letter to du Peyrou of Oct. 4, 1778, printed in Section IV., states that Rousseau preserved a duplicate for himself. In that case, it must have been lost or stolen before his death. But the whole story, which must have come from Thérèse Levasseur, is rather incoherent.

[3]Author (1805–51) of La chute des Jésuites, etc. It is strange that Dr Coindet does not explain how the MS. subsequently came to be mutilated, nor indeed take any notice of the fact. His Note is dated in 1872.

[1]Rousseau calls him ‘commis de M. Thélusson’ (Confessions, Liv. x.; Œuvres, VIII. 377); and Thélusson was Necker’s partner (Biographie Générale, XIX p. 576). Indeed, Rousseau addresses a letter to him (March 29, 1766), ‘chez MM. Thélusson et Necker,’ Œuvres, XI p. 321. No part of the Copy is in the hand of Coindet himself.

[1]Œuvres de Rousseau, 25 vols. 12mo (printed by Didot aîné, and sold by Bozerian, Paris, le 1er nivôse, an 10; 1801. Only 100 copies were printed in this format. There was an 8vo edition in 30 vols. by the same editors (Naigeon, Fayolle and Bancarel) earlier in the same year (an 9). The passage quoted above will be found in the 12mo ed. Vol. I. p. vi: Avis sur cette édition.

[2]Ed. Lefèvre, T. v. p. 449. Petitain was the Editor of this.

[3]Catalogue des Livres de la Bibliothèque de feu M. Mirabeau, l’aîné . . .dont la vente se fera . . ..le lundi, 9 Janvier [1792]. Paris, 1791.

[1]Catalogue, p. 383.

[2]Seeing that the text of 1801—saving the three added paragraphs and a few unauthorised ‘corrections,’ always for the worse—agrees, word for word, with that of the Editio princeps. If the ‘original’ was not the Wielhorski MS, it must have been one agreeing with that MS. verbatim, or practically so.

[1]The alternative supposition would be that he used the Mirabeau MS. only for the three paragraphs, and copied du Peyrou’s Edition for the rest. His claim to have added several passages is certainly false.

[2]We do not know either when it left the hands of Necker, or when and how it passed into those of Mirabeau.

[3]The same price is marked in the British Museum copy of the Catalogue, But, here again, the name of the purchaser is not given.

[1]See below, Rousseau’s letter to Wielhorski of July 1, 1774.

[2]Ib. d’Alembert’s letter to Wielhorski of July 4, 1774.

[3]Ib. Wielhorski’s letter to d’Alembert of July 4, 1774.

[1]See the Correspondance published by the Comte de Girardin in the Bulletin du Bibliophile (Dec. 15, 1909); Wielhorski’s letter to Mme Rousseau of Nov. 30, 1778 (pp. 576–7). For an abstract of the Correspondence, see Section IV.

[2]Ib. pp. 579–580: Wielhorski’s letter to Girardin of March 12, 1779.

[3]Dialogue III.; Œuvres, IX. p. 306 As this note occurs close to the end of the last Dialogue, it can hardly have been written earlier than the close of 1775; and as the final departure of Wielhorski from Paris— which, as may be seen from the correspondence of Mme Geoffrin with Stanislas(Mouy, p.495), certainly took place after the beginning of 1776—is mentioned a few lines below, it may have been added any time before Rousseau’s death(July,1778).

[4]Wielhorski’s letter to Girardin of March 12, 1779.

[5]Rousseau’s letter to Wielhorski of July 1, 1774.

[1]‘Les manœuvres de ce M. d’Alembert ne me surprennent plus: j’y suis tout accoutumé,’ he says in the same note to Dialogue III., which was quoted above. The other chief passages about d’Alembert are to be found also in the Dialogues, Œuvres, IX. pp. 113–5; pp. 291–2; p. 303. It is pretty clear, on a comparison between the last two passages, that he believed d’Alembert to have been told off to write a scandalous life of him, to be published directly after his death.

[2]The Comte de Vergennes,

[3]See the letter of Girardin to Wielhorski of March 31, 1779, and of Vergennes to Girardin of July 2, 1779.

[4]Unless, indeed, we may suppose that the edition of the Considérations published in London (really, Paris) in 1782 (the same year as the Editio princeps) was based upon the d’Alembert Manuscript. It seems, however, to be simply a reprint of the Geneva Edition (du Peyrou’s) of that year. The same applies to the Économie politique, which forms the rest of the volume.

[1]See the undated letter of Girardin to Wielhorski, the first of the series (October or November, 1778): ‘on a ajouté la barbare calomnie, en présentant ce manuscrit chez les libraires, de dire qu’on l’avait acheté mille écus de la femme de l’auteur.’ Bulletin du Bibliophile (Dec. 15, 1909), p. 573. The same phrase is repeated in his letter to du Peyrou of Oct. 4, 1778 (MS. Neuch 7923). It is impossible that any MS. in the possession of Thérèse could have been that sent by Rousseau to Wielhorski. The ‘calumny’ rejected by Girardin would, if true, necessarily imply the existence of a third autograph in addition to the Neuchâtel and Wielhorski MSS. See above, p 400.

[2]He calls him Könich, as he calls Guy le Jay (letter of March 12, 1779).

[3]See the letter of Rollin to Girardin of Oct. 20, 1778, Bulletin, p. 574. Rollin was at that time Secretary to the Prussian Embassy at Paris. He succeeded the then Ambassador von Goltz, after an interval caused by the war in 1796. For Rollin’s sight of the MS. see p. 415.

[4]i.e. Adam Casimir Czartoryski, cousin to Stanislas, who had been a rival candidate for the crown in 1764, and is described in Wurzbach’s Biographisches Lexicon (III. 86) as General Starost of Podolia, and by Wielhorski as Général de Podolie. See his letter to Mme Rousseau of Nov. 30, 1778 (Bulletin, p. 577). For this, and the two following Notes see below, pp 416–8.

[5]Letter of Wielhorski to Girardin of March 12, 1779 (Bulletin, p. 580).

[6]Letter of Wielhorski to Mme Rousseau of Nov. 30, 1778 (Bulletin, p. 577).

[1]MS. Neuchâtel, 7923. The passage is given at length in Section IV. D.

[2]Girardin’s language (below, p. 420) suggests that it was an autograph.

[3]This would imply that Necker, having secured his copy in 1772, had parted with it by 1774—which would seem improbable; that it then fell into the hands of some unnamed owner, and was sold by him, or some other, to Mirabeau after 1778–9.

[1]Grimm and Diderot were now on their way back from St Petersburg. See Morley, Diderot, Vol. II. pp. 110–121.

[2]It is possible that nous is a slip for vous.

[1]Misspelt Gottz, in the Bulletin.

[2]Wielhorski remained in Paris at least until the end of May, 1775. Mme Geoffrin writes to King Stanislas on May 22 of that year: ‘Wielhorski voudrait bien retourner en Pologne; mais ses dettes le retiennent ici.’ Mouy, Correspondance de Mme Geoffrin, pp. 488–9. Her letter of Nov. 20, 1775, proves almost to a certainty that he was then still there. Ib. p. 496.

[3]In the Bulletin du Bibliophile, the order of Letters 2 and 3 is transposed. It is evidently as given above.

[1]The Bulletin reads: ‘il est certain que la possession du MS. original entre les mains des éditeurs les mettra dans le cas de démentir et par rapport à vous et par rapport à toute édition,’ etc. I cannot but think that the phrase must run ‘démentir et par rapport à vous et par rapport à eux-mêmes [or à l’auteur] toute édition,’ I have translated accordingly.

[2]See § C.

[1]In the following letter, Vergennes assigns as a reason: ‘parce que l édition qu’on annonçait des ouvrages de cet écrivain se ferait en pays étranger.’

[1]In the Bulletin du Bibliophile (Nov. 1912), the Comte de Girardin adds the following three lines, as part of the above note: ‘Chapitre xii, article La Pologne est environnée; Chapitre xiv, article On trouvera; Chapitre xv, après les mots, le prix de l’argent.’ These were added for the sake of identifying the respective paragraphe

[1]An allusion to the alleged letter from Frederick the Great to Rousseau, really composed by Horace Walpole (apparently with suggestions from Hume) and published in the English Journals early in 1766. See Rousseau’s letter to the Editor of the Saint-James’ Chronicle, of Apr. 7, 1766, and to Mme de Boufflers of Apr. 9; Œuvres, XL pp. 327–9.

[1]This is the exact punctuation of the original title-page (1782, Q° and 12mo). Originally ‘la [Constitution] [République] de Pologne et sur [les Constitutions].

[2]très instructives.

[1]les vertus et les vices. Les vertus was at first retained even in W., but cancelled on reflection. See Facsimile of p. 1 in Annales (IX. p. 32).

[2]N. omits bien and sur les lieux.

[3]même un peu celles.

[4]et de quelques réflexions.

[5]Before this paragraph, N. has the heading Premier coup d’œil.

[6]un homme pendant.

[1]vous l’avez conservée.

[2]très aisé.

[3]au milieu de cette cwarchie.

[4]A reference to the words of King Stanislas of Poland, already quoted in Lettres de la Montagne, IX. See above, p. 274.

[5]Compare the letter to Mirabeau of July 26, 1767; above, p. 160.

[1]régnera dans les cœurs.

[2]adorer; et ses lois wanting in N.

[3]N. adds et frivoles.

[4]c’est au moins.

[5]d’autres sortes d’êtres. See the Fragment, Rome et Sparte; Vol. I. p. 314.

[1]N. had originaîly une troupe de malheureux fugitifs.

[2]cette institution mémorable.

[3]N. has autant de barrières qui [gênaient les communications des autres peuples] le tenaient séparé de ses voisins. W. seems to have had originally séparé des autres peuples.

[4]Compare the Fragment, Les Juifs, Vol. I. p. 355.

[5]l’identifia pour ainsi dire wanting in N.

[6]I add the second en from N.

[7]N. reverses the two phrases.

[7]N. reverses the two phrases.

[1]mais cette ville par la seule force de son institution.

[2]N. has [donna des lois] [fît la loi] donna les lois.

[3]Sparte n’était que le foyer.

[4]See Machiavelli, Discorsi, I. xi.

[5]qu’un revers pouvait dissiper.

[6]dont leur rusticité n’avait guère.

[7]rites oiseux et superstitieux. Hachette reads ses rites. Eds. 1782, 1801, ces.

[8]N. inserts au milieu de ses guerres.

[9]les législateurs anciens.

[10]à leur patrie.

[11]N. has after exclusives et nationales [voyez le dernier chapitre du Contrat Social]. This was retained in W. as Voyez la fin du C. S., and transferred to the notes by du Peyrou. With this paragraph compare Lettre à d’Alembert.

[12]toujours les citoyens.

[1]sous des planchies.

[2]acclamations du peuple.

[3]avec élégance.

[4]des églises pour un culte.

[5]rien de national, et tourné presgu’en dérision.

[6]bien fermées wanting in N.

[7]indécentes.

[8]d’aujourd’hui wanting in N.

[1]par wanting in N. before leur discipline.

[2]Hachette misreads le cœur.

[3]dans le sien.

[1]d’Allemands, d’Italiens, d’Espagnols.

[2]dans de pareilles circonstances.

[3]de s’allier, de se plaire, avec eux.

[4]par goût et wanting in N.

[5]assez wanting in N.

[6]Compare Éc. pol. Vol. I. p. 255; L’état de Guerre, ib. p. 298; Lettre à Mirabeau, Vol. II. p. 160.

[7]interne wanting in N.

[8]presque sans toucher.

[9]toutes les vertus.

[1]abandonner.

[2]In N. vous devez trop les mépriser pour les haïr is underlined with pencil, but nothing substituted for it in the margin.

[3]Rousseau had originally written d’autres désirs que ceux: he cancelled this for the words in the text.

[1]d’imiter les goûts.

[2]et en imaginer de convenables.

[3]soigneusement. See C. S. II. viii.

[4]ni les ministres.

[5]N. has porte, by a slip.

[6]abroger.

[7]comédies.

[8]N. has in each case Je veux instead of Il faut. The two sentences from ‘Je veux qu’on s’amuse . . .ibi bene’ are an afterthought, added in the margin of N. by Rousseau.

[8]N. has in each case Je veux instead of Il faut. The two sentences from ‘Je veux qu’on s’amuse . . .ibi bene’ are an afterthought, added in the margin of N. by Rousseau.

[1]formaient non feulement des hommes vaillants.

[2]à quel point les cœurs du peuple suivent ses yeux.

[3]inspire de la confiance. de added by Rousseau in margin of N.

[1]Les rois captifs Ment chargés d’or et de pierreries, mais ils étaient enchaînés.

[2]au même point.

[3]J’ai lu quelque part.

[1]à n’en avoir que de cette espèce. For Clients, see above, p. 114.

[2]Added by Rousseau, as an afterthought, in the margin of N.

[2]Added by Rousseau, as an afterthought, in the margin of N.

[3]l’amour de la liberté, c’est-à-dire de la patrie et des lois.

[1]existence collective.

[2]liés entre eux.

[3]N. omits un Russe.

[4]il est tout façonné pour la servitude.

[4]il est tout façonné pour la servitude.

[5]Mais à vingt ans.

[6]par des prêtres étrangers. The correction pencilled in N. is par des étrangers ni des Prêtres. C. et des prêtres.

[7]Contrast Êc. pol. (p. 257). Hachette omits bien.

[8]ne doivent jamais être qu’un état d’épreuve pour monter.

[8]ne doivent jamais être qu’un état d’épreuve pour monter.

[9]grande attention.

[1]les pauvres mêmes.

[2]qui leur donnerait comme tels la préséance.

[3]et même sur ceux des grands.

[4]ineptes et vains.

[5]W. seems originally to have had particulière.

[1]les principaux et régents des collèges.

[2]que les honnêtes gens.

[3]des orateurs, des huissiers.

[4]manieront.

[5]je l’avouerai.

[6]fâché.

[7]toutes les idées.

[1]The whole paragraph Quelque forme qu’on donne . . .tout ce qui se fait is written, as an afterthought, in the margin of N.

[2]Au reste wanting in N.

[3]vraiment wanting in N.

[4]n’est qu’extérieur à l’homme,

[5]les mœurs wanting in N.

[6]N. has et before par des institutions, and omits the clause, par une philosophie . . .qui tue. le is pencilled in the margin for ce, before levain; but the altération is not adopted in Ed. 1782.

[7]qui la rendront, qui la maintiendront heureuse et libre wanting in N.

[8]et se renouvelent.

[9]qui vous choquent.

[10]Voilà des préliminaires que j’ai crus indispensables wanting in N.

[1]Vice principal: remède à chercher. Rousseau had originally written UÈtat est trop grand. Remède.

[2]dès le premier pas.

[3]qui détruisent.

[3]qui détruisent.

[4]s’entre-regardent.

[5]de son Gouvernement.

[6]qu’un pareil Gouvernement n’en soit.

[1]The original title of Chap. VI. was Souveraineté, où réside-t-elle? The alteration is made by Rousseau himself in N.

[2]presque tout.

[1]N. inserts here et auquel ils ne renoncent point en devenant sénateurs.

[2]ou d’abolir des lois.

[3]je le soutiens wantiug in N.

[4]ils ne peuvent pas.

[5]attendu que les membres.

[6]W. had originally les autres Nonces.

[1]aux plus bornés,

[2]Or Nobles Polonais (as in Eds. 1782, 1801).

[3]combien l’on joug est plus austère, plus pesant que n’est dur celui des tyrans.

[1]Des moyens de, etc. Originally, Du maintien de la Constitution.

[2]presque continuelle.

[3]N. omits exécutive.

[1]vers l’usurpation.

[2]vers le pouvoir arbitraire,

[3]il n’en eût pas été de même si la puissance.

[4]une seule famille.

[5]Compare ‘Vous allez voir la Suède,’ below, p. 464. Rousseau’s prévision was justified by the Coup d’État of Gustavus III, in the August of his year (1772). See Introduction, Section II.

[6]de cette même partie.

[7]d’opprimer les citoyens.

[1]quelquefois mal administrée, et quelquefois surmontée.

[2]toute la puissance.

[3]le seul efficace.

[4]W. seems to read et, dans leur devoir, très difficile.

[5]un corps. The reference is to C. S. III. xviii.

[6]Hachette reads Pour parer à cet inconvénient. Eds. 1782 and 1801, together with N. and C., read as in the text.

[7]This was one of Mably’s suggestions. See also Vol. I. pp. 403–6.

[8]elles employèrent,

[9]et te concertent wanting in N.

[1]semblaient indépendants

[2]N. has n’élùaimt pas, by a slip.

[3]assembler tous les ans.

[4]C. has Il faut que les choses. N. and Eds. 1782, 1801, read as in the text.

[5]Ed. Hachette reads suffisante, against N., Eds. 1782, 1801 and sense.

[6]C. S. III. xiii.

[1]Wanting in N. Ed. Hachette reads comme je l’ai dit, without authority.

[1]Wanting in N. Ed. Hachette reads comme je l’ai dit, without authority.

[2]celle d’ Angleterre.

[3]à leurs constituante wanting in N. W. seems originally to have had exact for sévère,

[4]si j’ose dire.

[5]pour les régler dans l’usage quils en feront. The rest of the sentence is wanting in N.

[6]je suis intimement convaincu.

[1]Wanting in N. Ed. Hachette reads comme je l’ai dit, without authority.

[2]celle d’ Angleterre.

[3]à leurs constituante wanting in N. W. seems originally to have had exact for sévère,

[4]si j’ose dire.

[5]pour les régler dans l’usage quils en feront. The rest of the sentence is wanting in N.

[6]je suis intimement convaincu. convaincu que si les

[1]i.e. the summons to the Diet, despatched by the king to each Dietine, and containing a statement of the business to be transacted.

[2]ou de la province wanting in N.

[3]au reste composée.

[4]des Diétinex.

[5]i.e. the Diétine held, at the close of each Diet, to receive a report from those who had represented the Diétine at the Diet.

[6]je ne vois pas le moindre inconvénient.

[7]ne peut avoir jamais à traiter.

[8]commettants.

[9]sur une question.

[1]vis-à-vis de l’avantage.

[2]il ne doit y avoir jamais conflit.

[3]Qu’elles punissent leurs Nonces, wanting in N., which has à leurs nonces after couper la tête.

[4]Wanting in N.

[5]Tout cela se déduit très clairement des principes établis dans le C. S. (xviii.). xv.-xviii.).

[1]elles pourraient.

[2]si vous ôtez.

[3]raisonnablement fixer.

[4]Hachette reads les. Eds. 1782, 1801, as in the text.

[5]En général, pour ménager le temps dans les Diètes.

[6]les formalités inutiles qui.

[7]In N. de la majesté is added by Rousseau as an afterthought (without et).

[8]les plus grands troubles de Rome.

[9]aux discussions.

[10]toutes celles qui peuvent.

[11]ne soit une chose importante en lui-même.

[12]qu’il peut être fait.

[1]Respeetively the suprême Financial and the suprême Judicial authority of the Republic.

[2]i.e. the President of the Diet, chosen in rotation from the nobles of Great Poland, Little Poland, and Lithuania.

[3]By a not unnatural mistake, Rousseau writes not Wilkes, but Wilske (N.).C. C has the name correctly. Rousseau refers to the events of 1768–70.

[4]qui seraient.

[5]Il serait facile et commode de tenir.

[6]i.e. city. Here used for électoral District.

[7]qu’ils auraient l’âge.

[8]en marquant la raison de leur exclusion wanting in N.

[9]et les longueurs des dùcussions seraient fort abrégées.

[10]et Diétines wanting in N.

[1]des moyens.

[2]quoique bons en eux-mêmes wanting in N.

[3]Wanting in N.

[4]quand un citoyen zélé n’ose parler.

[5]bouches qui soient ouvertes.

[6]dans la distribution des grâces et dans la nomination des emplois.

[7]les amphigouris et le tortillage.

[8]perdre du temps. À ne rien faire wanting in N.

[1]et qui peuvent même y être contraires.

[2]ne fît bien du mouvement et ne ressemblât trop au tumulte démocratique.

[3]quand l’assemblée dégénère en cohue.

[1]et la prospérité de la nation.

[2]le moyen.

[3]This sentence is added by Rousseau, as an afterthought, in N.

[4]tout d’un coup wanting in N.

[5]la Diète en élirait un moindre nombre.

[6]Et pour aller.

[7]vu résulter de.

[1]ou, pour mieux dire, à l’étendue.

[2]tout à coup.

[3]près de cent sénateurs.

[4]je les rendrais.

[5]sauf à être élus de nouveau quand tel serait le bon plaisir de la Diète, ce gué je permettrais pour un certain nombre de fois. Rest wanting in N.

[6]serait petit.

[1]dans un nombre fixé

[2]un nombre proportionné. This is also the reading of Eds. 1782 (Gen. 12m°, and London-Paris). Eds. 1782 (Gen. 4°) and 1801, and C., as in the text.

[3]serait de méme obligé.

[4]Il est évident que par ce changement

[5]députés wanting in N.

[6]de l’autorité.

[7]entre l’ordre équestre et le roi.

[8]Ed. of 1782 omits this paragraph. So also C. and Ed. 1801. It must have been omitted by Rousseau, when he re-copied N., from motives of prudence. I gather that it is not in W.

[9]pour exténuer. This again was one of Mably’s suggestions.

[10]de s’y déterminer.

[1]ait ses avantages et qu’il wanting in N.

[2]exposer l’état au danger de se diviser.

[3]soit connue.

[4]Mais cette matière . . .me répéter ici added by Rousseau, as an afterthought, in N. It is cancelled by the pencil of the corrector—probably because of the similar reference to the Contrat social in the preceding paragraph. When that was cancelled, this objection no longer held good.

[5]C. S. IV. ii., iv.

[6]This paragraph is added by Rousseau, as an afterthought, in N.

[7]dans chaque Diète ordinaire.

[8]qui reviendraient souvent.

[9]en revenant.

[10]For l’on ôterait aisément, Rousseau originally wrote l’on ôtera facilement.

[11]parmi.

[1]tous wanting in N.

[2]qu’il rejette.

[3]mêmes wanting in N.

[4]le Maréchal de la Diète. The rest of the sentence is wanting in N.

[5]pourrait être rempli.

[6]In N. this forms the first paragraph of Chap. VIII.

[7]comme Va très bien remarqué.

[8]In N. dispensateurs is substituted by the Réviser for distributeurs, but the correction is disregarded in the printed text. In the same way, C. had originally distributeurs; then this is cancelled for dispensateurs, and finally restored.

[1]After la Pologne, N. has où sont de si grands seigneurs.

[2]dont elle seule doit disposer wanting in N.

[3]cette fonction, qu’ils négligent et dédaignent, qu’ils ont été établis.

[1]Si le roi jugeait en personne, il devrait avoir un Conseil, sans doute; mais j estime qu’il aurait droit de juger seul. The correction is not pencilled in by the Reviser of N.; nor is this done henceforth until the first paragraph of Chap. XIII. (p. 485)—De toutes les dépenses de la république.

[2]tous wanting in N.

[1]tous added by Rousseau in N. as an afterthought.

[2]vous voyez maintenant l’Angleterre. The reference is again to Wilkes. For Sweden, see Introduction, § II. This and the two following paragraphs are aimed at Mably.

[3]W. seems originally to have had usage.

[4]Elector of Bavaria, hero of the War of the Austrian Succession.

[5]né seraient plus qu’un vain cérémonial.

[1]la séide vue qui reste ouverte.

[2]qui fassent honorer.

[3]qu’on ne doit jamais lui laùser.

[4]et pour faire marcher la machine politique selon sa véritable destination.

[5]tous wanting in N.

[6]un crime capital à un roi de Pologne de laisser usurper.

[1]N. has, by an oversight, le plus nombreux; it adds des trois.

[2]pour la législation.

[3]The original title of Chap. IX. in N. was Autorité des Lois. The correction is Rousseau’s.

[4]See above, pp. 447–8.

[1]W. seems originally to have had la force publique.

[2]J’ai peur que cet article.

[3]Le vice principal de la constitution polonaise est que la, législation.

[4]fait indifféremment.

[1]doit Vêtre à plus forte raison.

[2]la Diète illégale.

[3]Hachette reads ses lois. N. and Eds. 1782, 1801 have ces.

[4]C’en est assez pour rendre la constitution solide et irrévocable, et pour contenter sans inconvénient Pamour des Polonais pour le liberum. veto. Rest wanting

[1]Il est encore absurde qu’un membre.

[2]quiconque oserait tenter de s’en prévaloir.

[3]Hachette omits et. N. and Eds. 1782, 1801, as in the text.

[4]exemple pour me faire entendre, et non une règle que je propose.

[5]et peut-être même avec avantage wanting in N.

[1]de plus illustre, de plus respecté.

[2]simplement added in N., as an afterthought.

[3]This paragraph, added in N., as an afterthought.

[4]This and the remaining paragraphe are aimed at Mably.

[5]raffermir et ranimer.

[1]sont le rempart, l’asile.

[2]impossible qu’on la détruise.

[3]Mais ces entreprises . . .faut prévoir wanting in N.

[4]Loin donc de les abolir, réglez-en bien la forme et l’effet, pour leur donner une sanction légale, autant qu’il est possible, sans gêner ni leur formation ni leur activité. On peut fixer les cas où la Confédération peut légitimement avoir lieu Il y en a même où, par le seul fait, toute la Pologne, etc.

[5]quel que puisse être le sujet de cette entrée, confédération, etc.

[1]soit.

[2]puisse être.

[3]Détails d’administration.

[4]i.e. the Courts of local jurisdiction. See Du Cange, s.v. terrestris. The two instances he gives of this use are both from Slavonic countries (Bohemia and Poland).

[5]Ed. 1801 reads d’épreuves. N. and Ed. 1782 read as in the text.

[1]même avec peu de magistrats.

[2]et wanting in N.

[3]Hachette misreads d’autres.

[4]See above, p. 454.

[5]des chaires et des tribunaux.

[6]et dont le conflit les rend également arbitraires.

[1]des candidats pour le Conseil. The Petit Conseil is meant.

[2]Added by Rousseau in N., as an afterthought. Ed. 1801 has terres.

[1]se propose dans la réforme de sa constitution.

[2]C. has à les imiter. N. and all the authentic Eds., as in the text.

[3]appliquez-vous à le rendre.

[4]vous influerez dans les systèmes politiques; vous entrerez dans toutes les négociations; on recherchera votre alliance.

[5]devenir conquérants aussi bien que d’autres, et puis dire.

[1]un système tout différent.

[2]à la vie wanting in N.

[3]et de vos exploits.

[4]que les beaux esprits ne vous chanteront pas dans leurs odes, et qu’en Europe, etc. C. and all the anthentic Eds., as in the text.

[5]d’en partir.

[6]aller aux deux fins.

[7]reste à dire.

[8]sans contredit wanting in N.

[9]Il y en a aussi de plus favorables à la richesse qu’à la liberté.

[10]The opening sentences, to nécessaires, added by Rousseau in N., as an afterthoug t.

[11]par exemple wanting in N. Mably (I. xiv.) favours their eventual sale.

[1]ou contentez-vous du peu qu’il vous en faut, et qu’il faudra bien, etc.

[2]une trace sensible.

[3]la machine de l’État. Throughout this Chap., compare pp. 427–440.

[4]This seems to have been added by Rousseau in N., as an afterthought.

[1]quand il n’y règne.

[2]Ed. 1801 punctuates thus: les contenter directement; sans cette ressource, bientôt elle perdra tout son prix. N. and Ed. 1782 punctuate as in the text.

[3]je le sais encore.

[4]magistrats wanting in N.

[5]N. adds j’en conviens. Hachette, against Eds, 1782, 1801, inconvénient.

[6]So N. Eds. 1782, 1801 have les baillis de quelques cantons suisses. C., as in the text. W. seems to agree with Ed. 1782.

[7]L’argent qu’ils extorquent.

[8]So N. Eds. 1782, 1801 omit Il se manie . . .en proportion. C., as in the text save that ensemble is omitted. W. seems to agrée with Ed. 1782.

[1]ne se trouve mêlé.

[2]qui naturellement rend.

[3]distinction possible pour la vertu!

[4]pas assez ostensibles.

[5]malgré sa richesse wanting in N.

[1]mais d’en ralentir le cours.

[2]Pour moi, je ne prétends pas proscrire ni l’argent ni l’or, mais le rendre moins nécessaire.

[3]c’est la chose représentée.

[4]malgré les fables des voyageurs wanting in N.

[5]en détail wanting in N.

[6]et, selon les rapports environnants qui peuvent changer.

[7]on peut se voir.

[8]immédiatement wanting in N.

[9]qu’un Anglais vive à Londres plus à son aise qu’un Français ne vit à Paris.

[10]a plus d’avantage.

[1]This, added by Rousseau in N., as an afterthought.

[2]et j’ose répéter que le projet.

[1]de ceux qui auraient bien mérité de la patrie.

[2]et rien ne serait plus contraire à cet esprit.

[3]en deviendra.

[4]surtout wanting in N.

[5]See Projet de constitution pour la Corse, p. 341.

[6]l’effet de l’intégrité.

[7]encore wanting in N.

[1]Mais, si un grand État, comme la Pologne, refuse.

[2]la plus forcée et la plus arbitraire. For Montesquieu, see Vol. I. p. 266.

[3]Wanting in N.; it is in C.

[4]Mais, comme il n’est pas juste d’imposer.

[5]celles dont la régie est coûteuse et difficile.

[6]et wanting in N. Hachette omits et before corrompt, wrongly.

[7]Hachette has impôts, against N. and all the authentic Eds.

[8]une taxe singulièrement onéreuse.

[1]murmurer.

[2]This is aimed at Mably, who had advocated a Stamp Duty.

[3]Celle sur les bestiaux me paraît beaucoup meilleur: mais j’ai peur que la fraude n’y soit difficile à éviter, et toute fraude est toujours une source de mal. D’ailleurs, elle peut être onéreuse aux contribuables, à cause qu’il faut.

[4]See above, p. 472. Here it probably implies ‘belonging to the nobles.’

[5]ainsi . . .Gouvernement wanting in N.

[6]et de régie wanting in N.

[7]l’État aurait de l’argent.

[1]tout ce qui rend les impôts onéreux. Compare Éc. pol. and Projet pour la Corse; Vol. I. p. 269, Vol. II. pp. 331–6.

[2]l’entretien de wanting in N.

[3]et j’ai bien peur.

[4]This is the reading both of N. and C. The Ed. of 1782 substituted, at Wielhorski’s demand, celles qui la désolent. In N. the clause, surtout . . .vont la laisser, is added by Rousseau, as an afterthought. The Reviser, promptad by Wielhoreki, has pencilled armées for brigands, eventually substituting celles. Ed. 1801 has celles. W. has les brigands, See p. 421.

[5]attentifs à la prévenir wanting in N.

[6]de langage, de toutes celles qui l’environnent. The rest of the sentence is wanting in N.

[1]C’en serait encore une plus grande. So also, C.

[2]celui d’un autre.

[1]Added in N., as an afterthought.

[2]attaché par tout pays aux troupes réglées.

[3]ces régiments soldés et toujours subsistants.

[4]heureux wanting in N.

[5]rien à la République.

[6]Hachette reads ses, against all the authentic Eds.

[1]leur impôt en service.

[2]on exerce toutes ces milices.

[3]ont le pain de munition et wanting in N.

[4]et que tous puissent faire le service.

[5]changeant toutes les années.

[6]par changer là-dessus l’opinion publique.

[7]Hachette has en tout.

[8]et dans le Conseil souverain.

[1]au crédit, à la fortune.

[2]et au talent.

[3]et pour briller aux yeux.

[4]et qui ne sent que la peine de s’exercer wanting in N.

[5]les Bourgeois étaient beaucoup mieux exercés que des troupes réglées.

[6]un esprit militaire qui contrariait leurs projets.

[1]son état-major wanting in N.

[2]assignés en cas d’alarmes added by Rousseau, as an afterthought, in N.

[3]de mouvements et d’évolutions.

[4]les communications, d’intercepter wanting in N.

[5]Hachette omits et.

[1]une invasion subite.

[2]Coindet’s Copy, originally complete, now breaks off at et ne produit.

[3]In N. Vous venez de donner de sa force un exemple mémorable à jamais follows , instead of preceding, the sentence, Tant que cet amour . . .vous rendra libres. It is itself followed by the sentence, Appliquez-vous donc à cette seule chose, et vous aurez tout fait. Travaillez donc sans relâche, etc.

[4]ce joug.

[5]dans les cœurs des Polonais.

[6]je crois être le plus puissant.

[1]qu’aucun poste ne soit rempli.

[1]les marques.

[2]de juges mêmes.

[3]et des témoignages.

[4]au second grade après celui des Servants d’État.

[5]l’approbation expresse.

[6]en qualité de Député ou de Commissaire.

[7]Radom was the seat of the Commissioners of the Treasury, whose duty it was to audit the accounts of the Grand Treasurer. The Grand Tribunals—one in Poland, the other in Lithuania—were the final Courts of civil and criminal appeal.

[1]qui en sera porteur.

[2]commissaires à Radom.

[3]ce deuxième grade que je voudrais choisir les Préfets des collèges.

[4]avant d’être admis dans le Sénat.

[1]portés par la Diète en corps. The alteration is not pencilled by the Reviser of N.

[2]This paragraph is addect by Rousseau, as an afterthought, in N.

[3]accordés à la vérité, au mérite, à la justice.

[4]From Ceux qui l’auront to y monter, wanting in N.

[5]le poste le plus éminent, et qu’ils l’occupent à vie.

[6]afin que leur zèle et leur émulation ne s’endorment pas.

[7]et à force de vertus.

[1]mais en statuant.

[2]N. has Commençons par la première.

[1]un temps et un lieu convenable.

[2]où les cives electi de la même province.

[3]garantir plusieurs d’entre eux des mœurs crapuleuses.

[4]de projets.

[1]et l’on dresserait sur tout cela des mémoires succincts.

[2]et l’on y pourvoirait proportionnellement, autant qu’il serait possible, au moyen d’un fonds, formé pour cet effet par les contributions gratuites des riches de la province.

[3]qu’elles seraient le seul tribut.

[4]je le sais.

[5]mais uniquement de louanges et d’encouragements.

[6]sur des rapports bien vérifiés, une note exacte des particuliers de tous états et des actions de tout sexe et de tout âge, dignes d’honneur et de récompense.

Il faut, dans ces estimations, avoir beaucoup plus d’égard aux personnes qu à quelques actions isolées. Le vrai bien se fait avec peu d’éclat. C’est par une conduite uniforme et soutenue, par des vertus privées et domestiques, par tous les devoirs de son état bien remplis, par des actions enfin qui découlent de son caractère et de ses principes, qu’un homme peut mériter des honneurs, plutôt que par quelques grands coups de théâtre qui trouvent déjà leur récompense dans l’admiration publique. L’ostentation philosophique aime beaucoup les actions d’éclat. Mais tel, avec cinq ou six actions∗ de cette espèce, bien brillantes, bien bruyantes et bien prônées, n’a pour but que de donner le change sur son compte, et d’être toute sa vie injuste et dur impunément. Donnez-nous la monnaie des grandes actions. Ce mot de femme est un mot très judicieux. [Note de J.J.R.]

[7]Ces notes.

[1]et c’est sur l’indication (N.) . . .j’ai parlé ci-devant, added by Rousseau in N., as an afterthought.

[2]Hachette, without any authority, reads et la plus importante.

[3]sur des informations sûres et sur le rapport.

[4]lui devînt avantageux, et surtout gue ce fût un honneur pour un gentilhomme d’avoir plus d’affranchis qu’un autre; bien entendu qué.

[5]Rousseau had originallv written in N. devienne for devînt.

[6]y former successivement des communes.

[7]y établir quelques officiers.

[8]These clauses added by Rousseau in N., as an afterthought.

[1]à l’exclusion des nobles wanting in N.

[2]savoir celle de Chancelier de la République.

[3]annoblir collectivement et successivement certaines villes.

[1]les grandes crises de.

[2]animaux qui leur avaient durant leurs disgrâces rendu.

[3]doivent devenir désormais les enfants.

[4]par cet exemple vivant qui sera sous les yeux.

[5]de la République dans ses succès quiconque osa la secourir dans sa détresse.

[6]on peut faire en sorte que chacun voie.

[7]elle offre des obstacles presqu’insurmontables contre lesquels.

[1]N. has a toujours.

[2]Cependant il me semble qu’avec le moyen très simple qu’on va lire toutes les difficultés sont levées, tous les abus sont prévenus, et ce qui semblait faire un nouvel obstacle devient un bien de plus dans l’exécution.

[3]In N. Chap. XIV does not begin here, but with the preceding paragraph Mais tous n’est pas fait.

[4]Toutes ces difficultés consistent dans celle de donner.

[5]doué de grandes qualités.

[6]These sentences added by Rousseau in N., as an afterthought.

[7]quel affront à leur patrie!

[8]presque wanting in N.

[1]enfin wanting in N.

[2]voyez enfin quels maux vous vous faites et quels avantages vous négligez.

[3]qui sait mériter.

[4]de l’emporter enfin sur leurs concurrents!

[5]Cherchons s’il est possible de tirer parti de ce grand ressort.

[6]nous allons voir.

[7]mais on ne manquera pas de trouver d’abord qu’il manque le but.

[8]avec attention wanting in N. For the use of lot, see above, pp. 107–8.

[9]car, comme ils seront tirés.

[1]le sort décide seul de celui qui sera préféré.

[2]qu’on se propose.

[3]presque wanting in N.

[4]devenir Palatins eux-mêmes. For Rousseau’s views, see above, pp. 456–8.

[5]me paraissent inutiles à la constitution et de trop dans la République.

[6]néanmoins wanting in N.

[7]pour éviter les grands changements.

[8]Mais dans la loi nouvelle que je propose, rien n’oblige de les mettre au niveau des Palatins; et il est avantageux de ne le pas faire. Comme rien n’en empêche non plus, on pourra là-dessus se décider pour le parti de les y laisser [en ouvrant la concurrence à la couronne à tous les Sénateurs à vie également]; cela se peut sans rien changer à mon projet. Je suppose ici, etc. Rousseau has written the following variant to les y laisser . . .au trône in the margin: qu’on jugera le meilleur, et que je suppose être ici d’ouvrir aux seuls Palatins l’accès immédiat au trône.

[1]The Wielhorski MS. has [préfère] honore. See Facsimile in Annales, Vol IX.

[2]Ed. 1782 (with all subsequent Eds.) omits et surtout dans la dernière. This was done at the demand of Wielhorski (Annales, IX. p. 30). It is underlined by the Reviser of N., and in W. The latter has [même] surtout.

[3]choisir celui même qu’elle eût rebuté. Ed. 1782 (with all subsequent Eds ) has favorisait, on l’a forcée and aurait rebuté. This reading was imposed by Wielhorski, who also demanded qu’elle a sacrifié, without obtaining it (Annales, IX. pp. 30, 33). See above, p. 421.

[4]Ed. 1782 has qu’elle n’a plus, against both N and W.

[5]sur cette manière d’élection.

[6]dans les cœurs.

[7]contre.

[1]que parmi. According to M. Olszewicz the sentence (with parmi for entre) is cancelled in the Wielhorski MS. His own Facsimile testifies that it is not. N. has parmi; W. has entre.

[2]qui n’ait d’avance été fait et confirmé par la nation.

[3]qu’on ne pût.

[1]et utilement wanting in N.

[2]pratiqué que par une seule nation.

[3]aucune autre.

[4]It is probable that Rousseau drew his knowledge of this custom from Montaigne (Essais, I. iii,).

[5]J’ose méme affirmer.

[1]de toutes les prérogatives attachées.

[2]de sa conduite.

[1]à la fois wanting in N.

[2]tellement à la vis de ce prince.

[3]cette singulière contradiction.

[4]Rousseau had originally written in N., Voilà mon plan, tel quel, dévdopp.

[5]Liv. II. chap. x.

[1]et ne paraissent pas même fort grands.

[2]gui en doit être le fruit.

[3]à vous étayer.

[4]ne fût-ce . . .avec vous wanting in N.

[5]quelque traité.

[6]This clause, wanting in N. N. has n’allez pas compter.

[7]rien du tout.

[8]il n’y a pour elles d’autres liens.

[9]P. 82 of N. ends with the words elles le trouveront à remplir. The remaining 3½ pages (i.e. pp. 83–6) are a copy in another hand. See pp. 398, 516. The pencil corrections of the Reviser are continued on the copy.

[10]Mais il n’est presque jamais.

[1]leurs véritables intérêts. In W. the whole sentence is written in the margin; having been omitted, by an oversight, in copying (Annales, IX. p. 32).

[2]Rien n’est si frivole.

[3]un jeu d’enfant.

[4]un peu wanting in N.

[5]et de finesses.

[6]un avec elle.

[7]i.e. Prussia.

[8]la présente guerre pourrait laisser la Russie, j’estime qu’il pourrait peutêtre vous suffire pour entreprendre avec quelque sûreté votre ouvrage.

[9]The whole of the argument against foreign Treaties is directed against Mably

[10]Une autre chose me fait penser que.

[1]relever.

[2]C’est que la France. pour cela wanting in N., probably by a slip.

[3]et c’est pour cela que la Russie favorise aujourd’hui le Gouvernement de la Suède. For Sweden, see above, pp. 447, 464.

[4]sur ceux.

[5]assez fréquente.

[6]viennent d’en faire.

[7]à lever des troupes mercenaires.

[8]Et en effet il faut convenir.

[9]Mais lorsque votre opération sera consommée, qu’alors les Russes.

[1]The three paragraphs (Au reste, quand vous serez . . .à la tête du Gouvernement) concerning Poniatowski were suppressed in the Geneva Edition of 1782, at the demand of Wielhorski. They were first published in the Paris Edition of 1801, from Mirabeau’s Manuscript. See note at the end of the treatise, and Introduction, pp. 396–7. It will be remembered that they were also in Coindet’s Copy. See pp. 401, 421.

[2]à l’égard du Roi.

[3]il est aussi le plus sage.

[4]n’est-il que malheureux.

[5]Mais on sait bien . . .un héros is cancelled in N. This was done by the Reviser See note at the end of the treatise.

[6]Mais.

[7]comme il doit tout aux Russes.

[8]un mauvais successeur.

[9]néanmoins wanting in N. The reading of Ed. Hachette (puissiez) is a Pure blunder.

[1]This is aimed at Mably.

[2]afin de ne point ébranler trop brusquement la machine.

[3]avec autant de succè que de zélé.

[1]et je mets fin . . .occupé si longtemps. This is bracketed in MS.; it was done by the Reviser. See note on the next page.

[2]ni qu’on trouve dans ces rêveries rien qui puisse être réellement utile à la Pologne Quoi qu’il en soit, mes vœux pour leur prospérité.

The Reviser’s correction in the margin is ni qu’ils trouvent dans mes réveries.

[3]Girardin’s Copy ends, Puissent-ils triompher de leurs ennemie, donner un grand exemple à l’univers, devenir paisibles, heureux et libres!

But the words from exemple to the close are drawn from a variant, written by Rousseau himself upon p. 87 of the MS. The beginning of this sentence must have come on the last of the leaves (p. 86) which have been torn out.

Below this last sentence, Rousseau has written the following in a scribbling hand which is sometimes hard to decipher:

∗ J’ai obéi, Monsieur le Comte, à vos ordres, et voici mon offrande à votre patrie; mon cœur la lui fait encore plus que ma plume. [Excusez ma longue rabâcherie.] Je ne voulais d’abord que [mettre sur le papier] vous communiquer quelques réflexions que votre lettre avait suggérées: elles se sont multipliées eu avançant, et ont enfin produit l’énorme cahier que je vous envoie dans lequel, par surcroît, vous trouverez si peu d’ordre qu’il ne m’a pas même été possible de distinguer les matières par des têtes. Je vous en fais mes excuses et me flatte que vous me pardonnerez mes rabâcheriea, en consid rant que, s’il est des objets dont la longue contemplation puisse enflammer [un] le cœur d’homme, c’est assurément celui dont vous m’avez prescrit de m’occuper. À mesure que j’avançais, mes idées se multipliaient sans s’arranger. Cet arrangement est désormais au-dessus de mes forces: [agréez le tribut qu’elles m’ont permis de vous offrir] et le désordre que j’ai été contraint de laisser dans ces feuilles [est cause de] a produit les redites éternelles que vous y trouverez.

This is clearly the rough draft of the letter which Rousseau intended to send to Wielhorski with the fair copy of the Manuscript.

On a loose sheet (numbered p. 86 bis) is the following note, for the authorship of which see Introduction, p. 398.

N.B. Cette minute était celle de l’auteur: à sa mort elle a passée directement dans mes mains, avec quatre pages déchirées, depuis la page 82 jusques à la page 87 Sans doute, elles l’ont été par l’auteur lui-même. Peut-être avait-il eu l’intention de borner sa conclusion à ces mots; ‘il n’y a d’autres liens pour elles que ceux de leur intérêt’: et dans ce cas elle me semblerait encore mieux bornée à ces autres mots plus haut, que j’ai marqués d’un trait de crayon rouge—’agir sur soi-même et rajeunir sa constitution .’

Quoi qu’il en soit, j’ai recopié moi-même ces quatre pages manquantes sur une copie qui n’est point de la main de l’auteur, et que m’a prêtée M. Foulquier, conseiller au Parlement de Toulouse; laquelle copie aura sans doute été tirée d’après celle que M. d’Alemberg (sic) a escamotée furtivement lorsqu’il a eu l’adresse d’avoir entre ses mains le Manuscrit de M. de Wielhorsky. Si M.de Moultou, à la prudence duquel je dois m’en rapporter à cet égard, estime que ces quatre pages restituées doivent être employées parce qu’elles contiennent effectivement de très belles idées, quoique les événements n’y aient point répondu, mon avis en ce cas serait de n’en supprimer que les deux ratures comprises entre deux parenthèses; l’une page 84, l’autre page 86§ : la première comme une personnalité, et la seconde comme une superfluité. Mais je pense en même temps que la vérité et la justice austère de l’auteur ne permettent pas de dissimuler bassement les torts de Poniatowsky envers sa patrie (Signed) L. R. G.

[1]It must in fairness be remembered that, in a later writing, Fichte thought better of this and pleaded for a republican Constitution, without Princes and without Nobles: a Constitution under which the separate existence of the various German States is apparently swept away. See two posthumous Fragments (1806–7): Episode über unser Zeitalter aus einem republikanischen Schriftsteller, and Die Republik der Deutschen zu Anfang des 22en Jahrhunderts, unter ihrem fünften Reichsvogten (Werke, IV. pp. 519–545); and another Fragment belonging to 1813 (ib. pp. 546–573).

[1]Werke, IV. pp. 201–3 (Grundzüge, Lecture XIV.). ‘It is true,’he adds, ‘that the civilisation of each individual State is no more than one-sided. But every State is tempted to regard its own civilisation as the best, and to believe that the inhabitants of other Empires should hold themselves lucky to become members of it . . ..The most civilised State, in every age without exception, is also the most aspiring.’Ib. pp. 201, 210.

[1]Durch dieses Prinzip ist der Ausrottungskrieg zwischen christlichen Staaten unbedingt verboten. Ib. p. 195 (Lecture XIII.).

[2]Ib. p. 210 (Lecture XIV.).

[1]Perhaps the most curious instance of this, apart from those given above, is to be found in the whole texture of the argument on Civil Religion. Here Rousseau is manifestly torn in sunder between two contrary ideals: between the pagan ideal of a tribal religion and the Christian ideal of a religion which breaks down the barriers between race and race, between State and State; nay, sweeps away the very idea of the State as something unhallowing and unhallowed. The spirit of the ‘natural man’and the spirit of the ‘citizen,’as defined in the opening pages of Émile, are here seen in violent collision.

[2]Éc. pol. p. 247.

[1]C. S. II. ix.; above, p. 58.

[1]C. S. I. i. and ix.

[1]Contrat social (Geneva MS.), chapter on La religion civile. The closing sentence is wanting in the final version. See VoL.I. p. 501, II. 129.

[1]See La Paix perpétuelle, Extrait and Jugement.

[2]See the passage quoted in Introduction to Contrat social; above, p. 20.

[1][Je vous ai déjà parlé de la réserve avec laquelle j’ai donné mon opinion.]

[2][naturelle à l’amour-propre joint à l’amour de la vérité.]

[3]‘à leur usage’is an afterthought; and Rousseau forgot to cancel the y ‘of the original—’j’y renonçai.’

[1][au milieu de mes succès.]

[2][Je pris congé de mes adversaires.]

[3][et dans lesquels je n’avais certainement pas eu du désavantage.]

[4]MS. ‘depono,’by a slip.

[5][m’ont point donné.]

[6][quels pitoyables arguments n’ont-ils point employés!]

[7]montrée is very doubtful.

[8][ou par écrit ou de bouche.]

[9][sont venus me.]

[10][dont le fruit.]

[11][apercevoir.]

[12][si chacun de nous ne raisonne qu’à travers une filière.]

[1][si ce qui n’est démontré que pour moi ne saurait l’être pour eux, pourquoi voudrais-je les forcer à l’adopter et à préférer la règle que me donna la nature à celle qu’elle leur a donnée?]

[2][je dois donc les laisser.]

[3]MS.’ sache,’ by a slip. From ‘Soit qu’ils . . .gré’written on v° of p. 21.

[4]End of p. 22 r°.

[5][et dans cette nécessité même j’ai toujours [séparé les sentiments de la personne l’auteur] mis à part l’homme.]

[6][toujours.]

[7][laissé.]

[8][Combien de fois n’avertis-je pas mes lecteurs d’être en garde et de ne m’accorder que les droits de 1a raison.]

[9][veux.]

[1][des machinations.] See Lettres de la Campagne, p. 30; Lettres de la Montagne, IV.

[2][Car je sais . . .que nul ne sait avec certitude être (?) en la vérité; que, pourvu qu’on me laisse ce que je prends pour elle et qu’on ne me punisse pas de l’avoir dit . . .. À la vérité, quand on [me punisse ou qu’on] me persécute pour l’avoir montrée où j’ai cru la voir, il faut bien que je me défende. Mais, au surplus, que chacun la montre où il croit la voir; j’y consens de toute mon âme. Que chacun prenne pour lui-même la liberté que je réclame pour moi; j en suis content.]

[3]This is written, without reference, on v° of p. 21. It appears to belong here

[4][qui n’aurait pu venir à bout d’en faire.]

[5][ce n’est pas moi.]

[6]or ‘la variété.’

[7][veuille.]

[1]MS. ‘ne’omitted, by a slip.

[2]End of p. 23.

[3][Si la chaleur du raisonnement, si la pûreté des motifs m’entraîne quelquefois hors [de la mesure] d’une certaine circonspection, l’intention me sauve [or’ sert’].]

[4]MS. has ‘cet,’by a slip.

[5][se fait voir.]

[6]or ‘enseignants.’

[7]This is an allusion to a passage of the Lettres écrites de là Campagne (I.): ‘Mais, en conscience, y a-t-il parité’—between Émile and the anti-Christian writings of Voltaire and others (Lettres, p. 17).

[8]For Abauzit, see Rousseau’s letter to d’Ivernois of Sept. 15, and to Abauzit of Dec. 9, 1764 (Œuvres, XL pp. 157, 181).

[1]MS. ‘point’ omitted, by a slip.

[2]This is written on p. 21 v°, without reference. It seems to belong here.

[1][l’habitude empêche la sensation.]

[2]or ‘fait.’

[3][on voit par là le luxe à la mode.]

[4][hommes.]

[5][auraient été; but été, by a slip, is not cancelled after seraient.]

[6][qu’en commençant par être un fripon.]

[7][désole.]

[1]or ‘vain.’

[1]In a small book, Mes moments heureux (p. 21), printed at Geneva in 1758 and speedily suppressed. v. II.

[1]Causeries du Lundi, VII. p. 301 (article on Grimm.)

[1]E. Scherer, Melchior Grimm, p. 41.

[1]Letter to d’Eseheray of April 6, 1765.

[2]If it could be proved that the letter of Diderot, published in Grimm’s Correspondance littéraire(July, 1756), was indeed intended to refer Rousseau, a far more unfavorable verdict would have to be passed. The circumstances are highly suspicious. But they stop short, I think, of absolute proof.

[1]Moreover the latter part of it is written in the hand of Mailly, Grimm’s secretary at the time.

[1]In the remainder of the Lecture, I dealt with the evidence of the Confessions. As the material for judging of this is in the hands of every reader there is no reason for reprinting what I said.

Apart from the primary sources—the Confessions, Dialogues, Rêveries and Correspondance of Rousseau, the Mémoires of Mme d’Épinay and Streekeisen Moultou’s Rousseau, ses amis et ses ennemis, etc.—my chief debt has been to Mrs Macdonald’s Jean-Jacques Rousseau and to an article, J.-J. Rousseau et Mme d’Houdetot, by the distinguished scholar M. Eugène Ritter in the Annales de la Société J.-J. Rousseau, Vol. II. (1906). Diderot’s diatribe against Rousseau is to be found in a note to his Vie de Sénèque (1778) [pp. 120–1, Ed. Paris, 1789]; and, much more fully, in his Essai sur les règnes de Claude et de Néron (1782) [Œuvres, VIII. pp. 153–172, Ed. Naigeon, 1798]. The facts about Vandeul and Lecourt de Villière (above, pp. 553, 5) are to be found in Boiteau’s edition of Mme d’Épinay’s Mémoires [2 vols. Paris 1865], Vol. I. pp. iv-viii. Boiteau apparently had them from Brunet, the original editor of the Mémoires.

[2]‘Les savantes recherches sur le droit public ne sont souvent que l’histoire des anciens abus; et on s’est entêté mal à propos quand on s’est donné la peine de les trop étudier.’ (Traité des intéréts de la France avec ses voisins, par M. le marquis d’Argenson, imprimé chez Rey, à Amsterdam.) Voilà pré- cis ment ce qu’a fait Grotius. [Note de J.-J. R. 1762–82.]

[2]Les Romains, qui ont mieux entendu et plus respecté le droit de la guerre qu’aucune nation du monde, portaient si loin le scrupule à cet égard, qu’il n’était pas permis à un citoyen de servir comme volontaire, sans s’être engagé expressément contre l’ennemi, et nommément contre tel ennemi. Une légion où Caton le fils faisait ses premières armes sous Popilius ayant été réformée, Caton le père écrivit à Popilius que, s’il voulait bien que son fils continuât de servir sous lui, il fallait lui faire prêter un nouveau serment militaire, parce que, le premier étant annulé, il ne pouvait plus porter les armes contre l’ennemi. Et le même Caton écrivit à son fils de se bien garder de se présenter au combat qu’il n’eût prêté ce nouveau serment. Je sais qu’on pourra m’opposer le siège de Clusium et d’autres faits particuliers; mais moi je cite des lois, des usages. Les Romains sont ceux qui ont le moins souvent transgressé leurs lois; et ils sont les seuls qui en aient eu d’aussi belles. This note appeared for the first time in Ed. 1782. It was taken by du Peyrou from MS. Neuchâtel, 7842 (p. 52), which contains about two pages of additions, headed by Rousseau pour la grande Édition.

[2]Le vrai sens de ce mot s’est presque entièrement effacé chez les modernes: la plupart prennent une ville pour une Cité, et un bourgeois pour un citoyen. Ils ne savent pas que les maisons font la ville, mais que les citoyens font la Cité. Cette même erreur coûta cher autrefois aux Carthaginois. Je n’ai pas lu que le titre de cives ait jamais été donné au sujet d’aucun prince, pas même anciennement aux Macédoniens, ni, de nos jours, aux Anglais, quoique plus près de la liberté que tous les autres. Les seuls Français prennent tout familièrement ce nom de citoyens, parce qu’ils n’en ont aucune véritable idée, comme on peut le voir dans leurs dictionnaires; sans quoi ils tomberaient, en l’usurpant, dans le crime de lèse-majesté. Ce nom, chez eux, exprime une vertu, et non pas un droit. Quand Bodin a voulu parler de nos Citoyens et Bourgeois, il a fait une lourde bévue, en prenant les uns pour les autres . M. d’Alembert ne s’y est pas trompé, et a bien distingué, dans son article Genève, les quatre ordres d’hommes (même cinq, en y comptant les simples étrangers) qui sont dans notre ville, et dont deux seulement composent la République. Nul autre auteur français, que je sache, n’a compris le vrai sens du mot citoyen. [Note de J.-J. R. 1762.]

[2]‘Chaque intérêt, dit le marquis d’Argenson, a des principes différents. L’accord de deux intérêts particuliers se forme par opposition à celui d’un tiers ’ Il eût pu ajouter que l’accord de tous les intérêts se forme par opposition à celui de chacun. S’il n’y avait point d’intérêts différents, à peine sentirait-on l’intérêt commun, qui ne trouverait jamais d’obstacle; tout irait de lui-même, et la politique cesserait d’être un art [Note de J.-J. R.1762,]

[5]Ceux qui ne considèrent Calvin que comme théologien connaissent mal l’étendue de son génie. La rédaction de nos sages Édits, à laquelle il eut beaucoup de part, lui fait autant d’honneur que son Institution. Quelque révolution que le temps puisse amener dans notre culte, tant que l’amour de la patrie et de la liberté ne sera pas éteint parmi nous, jamais la mémoire de ce grand homme ne cessera d’y être en bénédiction. [Note de J.-J. R. 1762.]

[2]Ceci ne contredit pas ce que j’ai dit ci-devant (liv. II. chap. IX.) sur les inconvénients des grands États; car il s’agissait là de l’autorité du Gouvernement sur ses membres, et il s’agît ici de sa force contre les sujets. Ses membres épars lui servent de points d’appui, pour agir au loin sur le peuple; mais il n’a nul point d’appui pour agir directement sur ces membres mêmes. Ainsi, dans l’un des cas la longueur du levier en fait la faiblesse, et la force dans l’autre cas.

[2]On doit juger sur le même principe des siècles qui méritent la préférence pour la prospérité du genre humain. On a trop admiré ceux où l’on a vu fleurir les lettres et les arts, sans pénétrer l’objet secret de leur culture, sans en considérer le funeste effet: Idque apud imperitos humanitas vocabatur, quum para servitutis esset . Ne verrons-nous jamais dans les maximes des livres l’intérêt grossier qui fait parler les auteurs? Non, quoi qu’ils en puissent dire, quand, malgré son éclat, un pays se dépeuple, il n’est pas vrai que tout aille bien; et il ne suffit pas qu’un poëte ait cent mille livres de rente pour que son siècle soit le meilleur de tous . Il faut moins regarder au repos apparent, et à la tranquillité des chefs, qu’au bien-être des nations entières, et surtout des états les plus nombreux. La grêle désole quelques cantons, mais elle fait rarement disette. Les émeutes, les guerres civiles effarouchent beaucoup les chefs; mais elles ne font pas les vrais malheurs des peuples, qui peuvent même avoir du relâche, tandis qu’on dispute à qui les tyrannisera. C’est de leur état permanent que naissent leurs prospérités ou leurs calamités réelles. Quand tout reste écrasé sous le joug, c’est alors que tout dépérit; c’est alors que les chefs, les détruisant à leur aise, ubi solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant . Quand les tracasseries des grands agitaient le royaume de France, et que le coadjuteur de Paris portait au Parlement un poignard dans sa poche , cela n’empêchait pas que le peuple français ne vécût heureux et nombreux dans une honnête et libre aisance. Autrefois la Grèce florissait au sein des plus cruelles guerres; le sang y coulait à flots, et tout le pays était couvert d’hommes. Il semblait, dit Machiavel§ , qu’au milieu des meurtres, des proscriptions, des guerres civiles, notre République en devînt plus puissante; la vertu de ses citoyens, leurs mæurs, leur indépendance, avaient plus d’effet pour la renforcer que toutes ses dissensions n’en avaient pour l’affaiblir. Un peu d’agitation donne du ressort aux âmes; et ce qui fait vraiment prospérer l’espèce est moins la paix que la liberté. This note was added while the book was in the press. See letter to Rey of Feb. 18, 1762 (Bosscha, p. 141).

[1]La formation lente et le progrès de la République de Venise dans ses lagunes offrent un exemple notable de cette succession; et il est bien étonnant que, depuis plus de douze cents ans, les Vénitiens semblent n’en être encore qu’au second terme, lequel commença au Serrar di Consiglio, en 1198. Quant aux anciens ducs qu’on leur reproche, quoi qu’en puisse dire le Squitinio della libertà veneta , il est prouvé qu’ils n’ont point été leurs souverains.

[2]Il y a dans plusieurs écoles, et surtout dans l’Université de Paris , des professeurs que j’aime, que j’estime beaucoup, et que je crois très capables de bien instruire la jeunesse, s’ils n’étaient forcés de suivre l’usage établi. J’exhorte l’un d’entre eux à publier le projet de réforme qu’il a con u. L’on sera. peut-être enfin tenté de guérir le mal, en voyant qu’il n’est pas sans remède. [Note de J.-J. R. 1762: modified in Ed. 1782.]

[1]Ces questions et propositions sont la plupart extraites du Contrat social, extrait lui-même d’un plus grand ouvrage, entrepris sans consulter mes forces, et abandonné depuis longtemps Le petit traité que j’en ai détaché, et dont c’est ici le sommaire, sera publié à part. [Note de J.-J. R. 1762. Ed. 1782 has the comment: Note faite en 1761.]

[6]Les Conseils généraux étaient autrefois très fréquents à Genève, et tout ce qui se faisait de quelque importance y était porté. En 1707, M. le Syndic Chouet disait, dans une harangue devenue célèbre, que de cette fréquence enaient jadis la faiblesse et le malheur de l’État: nous verrons bientôt ce qu’il en faut croire. Il insiste aussi sur l’extrême augmentation du nombre des membres, qui rendrait aujourd’hui cette fréquence impossible, affirmant qu’autrefois cette assemblée ne passait pas deux à trois cents, et qu’elle est à présent de treize à quatorze cents. Il y a des deux côtés beaucoup d’exagération.

Les plus anciens Conseils généraux étaient au moins de cinq à six cents membres; on serait peut-être bien embarrassé d’en citer un seul qui n’ait été que de deux ou trois cents. En 1420, on y en compta sept cent vingt, stipulant pour tous les autres; et peu de temps après on reçut encore plus de deux cents Bourgeois.

Quoique la ville de Genève soit devenue plus commerçante et plus riche, elle n’a pu devenir beaucoup plus peuplée, les fortifications n’ayant pas permis d’agrandir l’enceinte de ses murs, et ayant fait raser ses faubourgs. D’ailleurs, presque sans territoire et à la merci de ses voisins pour sa subsistance, elle n’aurait pu s’agrandir sans s’affaiblir. En 1404, on y compta treize cents feux, faisant au moins treize mille âmes. Il n’y en a guère plus de vingt mille aujourd hui; rapport bien éloigné de celui de 3 à 14, Or, de ce nombre il faut déduire encore celui des Natifs, Habitants, Étrangers, qui n’entrent pas au Conseil général: nombre fort augmenté relativement à celui des Bourgeois, depuis le refuge des Français et le progrès de l’industrie. Quelques Conseils généraux sont allés de nos jours à quatorze et même à quinze cents; mais commun ment ils n’approchent pas de ce nombre. Si quelques-uns même vont à treize, ce n’est que dans des occasions critiques, où tous les bons citoyens croiraient manquer à leur serment de s’absenter, et où les magistrats, de leur côté, font venir du dehors leurs clients pour favoriser leurs manœuvres: or’ ces manœuvres, inconnues au xve siècle, n’exigeaient point alors de pareils expédients. Généralement, le nombre ordinaire roule entre huit et neuf cents; quelquefois il reste au-dessous de celui de l’an 1420, surtout lorsque l’assemblée se tient en été, et qu’il s’agit de choses peu importantes. J’ai moi-même assisté, en 1754, à un Conseil général qui n’était certainement pas de sept cents membres.

Il résulte de ces diverses considérations que, tout balancé, le Conseil g néral est à peu près aujourd’hui, quant au nombre, ce qu’il était il y a deux ou trois siècles, ou du moins que la différence est peu considérable. Cepen- dant tout le monde y parlait alors; la police et la décence, qu’on y voit régner aujourd hui, n’était pas établie†. On criait quelquefois. Mais le peuple était libre, le magistrat respecté, et le Conseil s’assemblait fréquemment. Donc M. le Syndic Chouet accusait faux, et raisonnait mal. [Note de J.-J. R.]

[6]Ceci s’entend en général, et seulement de l’esprit du Corps; car je sais qu’il y a dans le Deux-Cents des membres très éclairés, et qui ne manquent pas de zè le. Mais, incessamment sous les yeux, du petit Conseil, livrés à sa merci, sans appui, sans ressource ,et sentant bien qu’ils seraient abandonnés de leur Corps, ils s’abstiennent de tenter des démarches inutiles, qui ne feraient que les compromettre et les perdre. La vile tourbe bourdonne et triomphe. Le sage se tait et gémit tout bas.

Au reste, le Deux-Cents n’a pas toujours été dans le discrédit où il est tombé. Jadis il jouit de la considération publique et de la confiance des citoyens: aussi lui laissaient-ils sans inquiétude exercer les droits du Conseil général, que le petit Conseil tâcha dès lors d’attirer à lui par cette voie indirecte. Nouvelle preuve de ce qui sera dit plus bas, que la Bourgeoisie de Genève est peu remuante, et ne cherche guère à s’intriguer des affaires d’État. [Note de J.-J. R.]

[2]Et à quelle occasion! Voilà une inquisition d’État à faire frémir. Est il concevable que, dans un pays libre, on punisse criminellement un citoyen pour avoir, dans une lettre à un autre citoyen non imprimée, raisonné en termes décents et mesurés sur la conduite du Magistrat envers un troisième citoyen ? Trouvez-vous des exemples de violences pareilles dans les Gouvernements les plus absolus? À la retraite de M. de Silhouette, je lui écrivis une lettre qui courut Paris Cette lettre était d’une hardiesse que je ne trouve pas moi-même exempte de blâme; c’est peut-être la seule chose répréhensible que j’aie écrite en ma vie. Cependant, m’a-t-on dit le moindre mot à ce sujet 1 on n’y a pas même songé. En France, on punit les libelles; on fait très bien. Mais on laisse aux particuliers une liberté honnête de raisonner entre eux sur les affaires publiques; et il est inouï qu’on ait cherché querelle à quelqu’un pour avoir, dans des lettres restées manuscrites, dit son avis sans satire et sans invective, sur ce qui se fait dans les tribunaux. Après avoir tant aimé le Gouvernement républicain, faudra-t-il changer de sentiment dans ma vieillesse, et trouver enfin qu’il y a plus de véritable libert dans les Monarchies que dans nos Républiques? [Note de J.-J. R.]

[1]De quelle excuse, de quel prétexte, peut-on couvrir l’inobservation d’un Article aussi exprès et aussi important? Cela ne se conçoit pas. Quand par hasard on en parle à quelques magistrats en conversation, ils répondent froidement: ‘Chaque Édit particulier est imprimé; rassemblez-les.’ Comme si l’on était sûr que tout fût imprimé! et comme si le recueil de ces chiffons formait un corps de lois complet, un code général, revêtu de l’authenticité requise et tel que l’annonce l’Article xlii ! Est-ce ainsi que ces messieurs remplissent un engagement aussi formel? Quelles conséquences sinistres ne pourrait on pas tirer de pareilles omissions? [Note de J.-J. R.]

[2]For the paragraph ‘Dans la plupart . . .peut s’en garantir’ R. D. has the following: ‘Quel intérêt, quel motif, quel espoir séditieux pourraient-ils avoir à brouiller parmi le peuple? quel avantage leur en reviendrait-il? à quoi pourraient ils parvenir ? Supposons un moment votre peuple aussi grossier, aussi peu instruit, aussi facile à mener, que celui des grandes villes; aussi tumultueux aussi stupide, aussi effréné qu’il est en effet sage, tranquille, judicieux réglé même dans ses assemblées. À quoi pourraient aspirer ceux qui voudraient l’ameuter, pour remplir les vues de [leur] l’ambition ? À faire de nouvelles loix en leur faveur ? Mais c’est un droit qu’il ne réclame pas et qu il n’est pas bon qu’il exerce. À introduire des nouveautés? Mais quelles nouveautés ? Comment ? Sous quel prétexte ? Toutes vos lois publiques sont claires aux yeux du public; elles sont en petit nombre; elles ne laissent aucun espoir aux projets des particuliers. Car que voudraient-ils, à quoi pourraientils aspirer ? Quelle domination pourraient-ils usurper ? Comment parvenir aux charges sans l’agrément du Conseil ? et comment se passer de cet agrément sans attaquer ouvertement [toutes] les lois? Supposons un homme assez fou pour aspirer à cette domination passagère, et assez puissant pour l’obtenir un moment malgré la Loi , qui le foudroie, et la force publique armée contre lui. Le malheureux ne régnera pas huit jours, sans être écrasé sous la puissance extérieure et sans payer de sa tête sa ridicule entreprise. Il n’y a pas un seul Genevois qui ne sache cela, qui n’en soit convaincu. Et l’on veut qu’un séditieux rusé l’ignore, ou qu’il l’oublie, ou qu’il s’en moque. Ce séditieux sera donc un extravagant. Mais votre peuple n’a jamais été mené par des extravagants, et n’est sûrement pas fait pour l’être. Lorsqu’il s’est fait des conspirations, des complots, des entreprises [séditieuses], d’où tout cela est il venu? et que peut-on tenter dans un État tel que le vôtre, quand on n’a pas l’administration de son côté ? ‘Tronchin (Lettres, pp. 95–9) had drawn a lurid picture of the reign of demagogues which would follow on the withdrawal of the absolute veto from the Little Council. This is Rousseau’s reply.

[1]‘Les Barbaresques n’inquiètent guère à présent les Corses, parce qu’ils savent qu’il n’y a rien à gagner avec eux. Mais sitôt que ceux-ci commenceront à faire le commerce et à échanger des marchandises, ils séviront . Vous les auriez sur les bras.’ This is written opposite (on v° of p. 2). It was probably inteuded for a note. It is omitted by S. M.

[2]The following is written on v° of p. 36: ‘II y a dans tous les États un progrès, un développement naturel et nécessaire depuis leur naissance jusqu à leur destruction. Pour rendre leur durée aussi longue et aussi belle qu’il est possible, il vaut mieux en marquer le premier terme avant qu’après ce point de vigueur . Il ne faut pas vouloir que la Corse soit tout d’un coup ce qu’elle peut être; il vaut mieux qu’elle y parvienne et qu’elle monte que d’y être à l’instant même et ne faire plus que décliner; le dépérissement où elle est ferait de son état de vigueur un e’tat très faible, au lieu qu’en la disposant pour y atteindre, cet état sera dans la suite un état très bon .’ It is preceded by the words: ‘N. B, à placer.’.

[7]R. D. has here C’est à ceux qui rédigent les mémoires de faire là-dessus un choix judicieux. En général, etc.

[1]Rousseau’s guess was right. This is Buttafuoco’s reply (Oct. 19, 1765): ‘Vous m’inspirez une bien bonne idée d’un petit manuscrit daté de Vescovado. Mais, monsieur, il n’est pas de moi; il est à vous, à Machiavel et au Président de Montesquieu. Je n’ai que le faible mérite d’avoir cousu vos idées. Trop heureux, si ce travail est adaptable au pays pour lequel j’ai fait cette recherche !’

[6]sur des rapports bien vérifiés, une note exacte des particuliers de tous états et des actions de tout sexe et de tout âge, dignes d’honneur et de récompense.

Il faut, dans ces estimations, avoir beaucoup plus d’égard aux personnes qu à quelques actions isolées. Le vrai bien se fait avec peu d’éclat. C’est par une conduite uniforme et soutenue, par des vertus privées et domestiques, par tous les devoirs de son état bien remplis, par des actions enfin qui découlent de son caractère et de ses principes, qu’un homme peut mériter des honneurs, plutôt que par quelques grands coups de théâtre qui trouvent déjà leur récompense dans l’admiration publique. L’ostentation philosophique aime beaucoup les actions d’éclat. Mais tel, avec cinq ou six actions∗ de cette espèce, bien brillantes, bien bruyantes et bien prônées, n’a pour but que de donner le change sur son compte, et d’être toute sa vie injuste et dur impunément. Donnez-nous la monnaie des grandes actions. Ce mot de femme est un mot très judicieux. [Note de J.J.R.]

[3]Girardin’s Copy ends, Puissent-ils triompher de leurs ennemie, donner un grand exemple à l’univers, devenir paisibles, heureux et libres!

But the words from exemple to the close are drawn from a variant, written by Rousseau himself upon p. 87 of the MS. The beginning of this sentence must have come on the last of the leaves (p. 86) which have been torn out.

Below this last sentence, Rousseau has written the following in a scribbling hand which is sometimes hard to decipher:

∗ J’ai obéi, Monsieur le Comte, à vos ordres, et voici mon offrande à votre patrie; mon cœur la lui fait encore plus que ma plume. [Excusez ma longue rabâcherie.] Je ne voulais d’abord que [mettre sur le papier] vous communiquer quelques réflexions que votre lettre avait suggérées: elles se sont multipliées eu avançant, et ont enfin produit l’énorme cahier que je vous envoie dans lequel, par surcroît, vous trouverez si peu d’ordre qu’il ne m’a pas même été possible de distinguer les matières par des têtes. Je vous en fais mes excuses et me flatte que vous me pardonnerez mes rabâcheriea, en consid rant que, s’il est des objets dont la longue contemplation puisse enflammer [un] le cœur d’homme, c’est assurément celui dont vous m’avez prescrit de m’occuper. À mesure que j’avançais, mes idées se multipliaient sans s’arranger. Cet arrangement est désormais au-dessus de mes forces: [agréez le tribut qu’elles m’ont permis de vous offrir] et le désordre que j’ai été contraint de laisser dans ces feuilles [est cause de] a produit les redites éternelles que vous y trouverez.

This is clearly the rough draft of the letter which Rousseau intended to send to Wielhorski with the fair copy of the Manuscript.

On a loose sheet (numbered p. 86 bis) is the following note, for the authorship of which see Introduction, p. 398.

N.B. Cette minute était celle de l’auteur: à sa mort elle a passée directement dans mes mains, avec quatre pages déchirées, depuis la page 82 jusques à la page 87 Sans doute, elles l’ont été par l’auteur lui-même. Peut-être avait-il eu l’intention de borner sa conclusion à ces mots; ‘il n’y a d’autres liens pour elles que ceux de leur intérêt’: et dans ce cas elle me semblerait encore mieux bornée à ces autres mots plus haut, que j’ai marqués d’un trait de crayon rouge—’agir sur soi-même et rajeunir sa constitution .’

Quoi qu’il en soit, j’ai recopié moi-même ces quatre pages manquantes sur une copie qui n’est point de la main de l’auteur, et que m’a prêtée M. Foulquier, conseiller au Parlement de Toulouse; laquelle copie aura sans doute été tirée d’après celle que M. d’Alemberg (sic) a escamotée furtivement lorsqu’il a eu l’adresse d’avoir entre ses mains le Manuscrit de M. de Wielhorsky. Si M.de Moultou, à la prudence duquel je dois m’en rapporter à cet égard, estime que ces quatre pages restituées doivent être employées parce qu’elles contiennent effectivement de très belles idées, quoique les événements n’y aient point répondu, mon avis en ce cas serait de n’en supprimer que les deux ratures comprises entre deux parenthèses; l’une page 84, l’autre page 86§ : la première comme une personnalité, et la seconde comme une superfluité. Mais je pense en même temps que la vérité et la justice austère de l’auteur ne permettent pas de dissimuler bassement les torts de Poniatowsky envers sa patrie (Signed) L. R. G.

[∗]Ed. 1762 has Traité manuscrit etc., and omits imprimé . . .Amsterdam. It was published in 1762. René Louis, marquis d’Argenson (1694–1757), was Minister of Foreign Affairs (1744–7). His Mémoires were published by a member of his family, René d’Argenson (Paris, 1825): and his Journal et Mémoires by the Société de l’histoire de France (Paris, 1859–67: 9 vols.). He tells that he was a competitor with Rousseau, for the Dijon prize of 1754 (Discours sur l’inégalité) and adds: ‘L’académie déclara, en séance publique, que, le fond de nos deux mémoires (celui de Rousseau et le mien) n’étant point conforme aux sentiments qu’elle admettait, elle les rejetait du concours . . ..Il est dangereux de passer à Rousseau ses majeures; car alors on est perdu. 11 y a ici une longue note qui est un chef-d’œuvre. Cet ouvrage est assurément d’un honnête homme. Ce qu’il dit contre le luxe est parfait. I1 est seulement trop chagrin, trop réformé, trop austère.’ (Mémoires, pp. 447–8.) The quotation in the text is to be found in his Traité de l’admission de la démocratie dans un État monarchique, ou Considérations sur le, Gouvernement ancien et présent de la France (ed. Liège, 1787), p. 11. Trop is wanting before étudier.

[∗]Mieux is supplied from MS. 7842 (Neuchâtel). It was omitted by an oversight in Ed. 1782, and appears in no subséquent édition. See below. Ed. 1801 reads ce droit de la guerre, probably by a slip.

[∗]Ed. 1801 and Hachette have tous. Eds. 1762 and 1782, as above.

[∗]‘À Genève, le Citoyen ne peut être Syndic de la Ville, ni Conseiller du privé Conseil des XXV.; mais bien le Bourgeois le peut être.’ (Bodin, I. vi. p. 53.) The terms Citoyen and Bourgeois should have been transposed.

[∗]Considérations sur le gouvernement de h France, chap, II. [Ed. Liége, p.22, which has par une raison opposée, for par opposition.]

[]Eds 1782 and 1801 omit y. Ed. 1762 as above

[]Hachette reads point. Eds. 1762 and 1782, as in the text. This note was added while the book was in the press. See letter to Rey of Feb. 18, 1762.

[]Ed. 1801 and Hachette have ses. Eds. 1762 and 1782, ces.

[]Tacit Agric,xxi,

[]This is aimed at voltaire

[]Tacit agric. xxx

[]i.e. de Retz; see his Y h o i r e e , liv. m. (Yol. XI. p. 122; ed. Geneva, 1777).

[]This is a paraphrase of a passage (Dalle quali divieioni. . . opprimerla) in the Proemio to his Storie Fiimentine. Opere, T. I. p. xcviii (Firenze, 1782).

[]An anonymous work (1612), written to support the claims of the Emperor upon Venice. Rousseau uses the term souverain in his own, the strict, sense.

[∗]In MS. and Ed. 1762 this stands: Il y a dans l’Académie de Genève et dans l’Université de Paris des professeurs. The compliment to Geneva was struck out after the events of 1762–4.

[∗]Originally, et que je n’ai pu achever.

[∗]Eds. 1764 and 1782 have stipulants.

[∗]Hachette has n’étaient point établies. Eds. 1764, 1782, 1801, as in the text.

[∗]Charles Pictet had blamed the proceedings against Rousseau, in a letter to a friend (Rév. de Genève, Appendix, pp. 27–40).

[†]Confessions, liv. x.; Œuvres, VIII. p. 382.

[∗]The Article ran: ‘Pour qu’un chacun connaisse les lois de l’État et s’y soumette avec plus de docilité, il en sera fait, le plus tôt que faire se pourra, un code général imprimé, qui renfermera tous les Édits et Règlements.’ This injunction however, was not carried out until after the Mediation of 1768. See Révolutions de Genève, pp. 115, 144, 238.

[∗]’la’ wanting before ‘Loi.’

[∗]séviront is very uncertain. It may be courront; in the sense of coureurs de mer, which is used in C. S. II. iii. (Geneva MS.), Vol. I. p. 488.

[∗]S. M. omits ce point de vigueur.

[†]Or, très fort.

[∗]A word here is illegible

[∗]or adoptable

[†]The title of Buttafuoco’s Manuscript is: ‘Memoria sopra la Constituzione politica da stabilire nel Regno di Corsica; nella quale si dà un piano générale délle cose più essenziali che constituiscano un governo in Repubblica mista.’ Fatto al Vescovado, nel 1764 (Febr.). It is quite short; only 22 4° pages, written on both sides but only on the left half of each page. It does not amount to much (MS. Neuchâtel, 7940). There is another memoir (MS. 7939): Examen historique, politique et justificatif de la Révolution de l’Isle de Corse contre la République de Gênes (38 4° pages, written on both sides).

[∗]N. inserts here: La philosophie rend-elle pour cela les hommes meilleurs? Non tel, avec cinq ou six actions, etc.

[†]Rousseau originally wrote in N. Ce mot, quoique d’une femme, estun mot.

[∗]Rather, pp. 83 to 86.

[†]Both sentences occur in Chap. XV, paragraph 1; above p. 510; at the end of both is a red-pencil mark, as stated above. There is no ground whatever for attributing this ‘intention ‘to Rousseau.

[‡]L’écrit sur le Gouvernement de Pologne est tombé dans les mains de M d’Alembert peut-être aussitôt qu’il est sorti des miennes.’Note near the close of Dialogue III.; Œuvres, IX. pp. 306–7. Compare the second of the two letters from Rousseau to Wielhorski, printed above (p. 413).

[§]i.e. ‘Mais on sait bien que Poniatowski n’est pas un héros’; and ‘et je mets fin à ce long fatras . . .occupé si longtemps.