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Updated: May 12, 2025
Good God! can that be a man only fifty-seven years old?" A gold chain rippled over the crab-girl's bosom as she leaned forward to give Jean-Jacques his black silk cap lest he should take cold. The scene was evidently studied. "Hey!" cried Joseph, "there's a fine woman, and a rare one! She is made, as they say, to paint. What flesh-tints! Oh, the lovely tones! what surface! what curves!
Remember the eloquent remonstrance of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, whose book, overthrowing the Catholic religion, written in France and published in Holland, was burned by the hangman, while the author, a foreigner, was merely banished from the kingdom where he had endeavored to destroy the fundamental proofs of religion and of authority.
You will read to her the Emile of Jean-Jacques; you will fill her imagination with a sense of motherly duties; you will excite her moral feelings, etc.: in a word, you are either a fool or a man of sense; and in the first case, even after reading this book, you will always be minotaurized; while in the second, you will understand how to take a hint.
"Neighbor," remarked Monsieur Hochon, "our best friends, our surest defenders, are our own relations; above all, when they are such as your sister Agathe, and your nephew Joseph." "Perhaps so," said old Rouget in his dull way. "We ought all to think of ending our days in a Christian manner," said Madame Hochon. "Ah! Jean-Jacques," said Agathe, "what a day this has been!"
During his short stay in the capital there was circulated an ironical letter purporting to come from the Great Frederick, but really written by Horace Walpole. This cruel, clumsy, and ill-timed joke angered Rousseau, who ascribed it to, Voltaire. A few sentences may be quoted: "My Dear Jean-Jacques, You have renounced Geneva, your native place.
If her reserved manner did not attract many young people, her society inspired the greater awe, as it was composed of graver persons, and the poor Jean-Jacques had no reason to flatter himself he should be able to take a distinguished part in the midst of such superior talents. I therefore had not courage to speak; but no longer able to contain myself, I took a resolution to write.
He was probably prejudiced against Rousseau from the beginning, and he may have allowed his prejudices to colour his view of Rousseau's character and acts. The violence of the abuse which Grimm and the rest of the Encyclopaedists hurled against the miserable Jean-Jacques was certainly quite out of proportion to the real facts of the case.
All that is here shall be yours; you shall take care of my property, it is almost yours now for I love you; I have always loved you since the day you came and stood there there! with bare feet." Flore made no answer. When the silence became embarrassing, Jean-Jacques had recourse to a terrible argument. "Come," he said, with visible warmth, "wouldn't it be better than returning to the fields?"
"And did you intend," said Flore to the old man, "to give a hundred and fifty thousand francs to your nephew?" "Never, never!" cried Jean-Jacques, on whom Flore had fixed her eye. "There is one way to settle all this," said the painter, "and that is to return them to you, uncle." "No, no, keep them," said the old man.
Who has not seen on reading the Confessions of Jean-Jacques, that Madame de Warens is described as much prettier than she ever was in actual life?
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