Regressive Fictions

That Rousseau's great novel began as a retreat from adulthood and reality, and a fulfillment of wishes, can hardly be disputed. He will tell us so, in the famous account of its genesis in Book 9 of the Confessions. Distressed by a sense of advancing age and by social obligations, he felt that he had never known entire emotional fulfillment. Thus, in his marvellous phrase, 'je revenais par élans aux jours sereins de ma jeunesse' (p. 425).¹ Then, more radically,

The 'pays des chimères' seems to be the land of the unreal and desired. Within it, his imagination creates a 'monde idéal' after his own heart. What he then calls 'mes fantasques amours' took form.

At the centre of his fiction, from which all painful feelings are excluded, will be his complementary wishes. Love and friendship are embodied in two 'amies'; the 'amant' is an embellished version of himself.

This avowal seems to fit nicely with Freud's view of literary creation. Literature originates in the author's daydreams. Stories develop from compensatory fantasies. The hero is always, as Freud drily puts it, 'His Majesty the Ego'.² Perhaps more significant however is the fact that, historically, Rousseau is the first writer to declare this intimate relation. That reminds us that Freud in 1900 is theorizing within the individualistic artistic culture (and the bourgeois familial culture) that began to emerge during the eighteenth century. It draws our attention again to the significance of the rise of the novel and the mode of first-person narration, in the same period. Rousseau also reveals here that his imagined world was just the last in a recessive series of wishes. He had wanted to withdraw from Paris society, and has been able to do so.3 He then desired a particular way of living, and has been given it: 'J'avais une demeure isolée dans une solitude charmante; maître chez moi, j'y pouvais vivre à ma mode'. Yet, 'au milieu des biens que j'avais le plus convoités' he is still unsatisfied, 'ne trouvant point de pure jouissance' (p. 425). Only fictions can meet his absolute demands.

It can be said that the issue of reading Rousseau's œuvre as a whole 'progressively' or 'regressively' remains at the centre of critical debate. This reflects the continuing influence of Starobinski's classic study, first published fifty years ago, which reads the writings in relation to the psychological life.⁴ That approach has been accused of undermining the status (historical, philosophical and especially political) of Rousseau's works.⁵ To my mind, the objection is misconceived. Not only did Rousseau himself insist on the personal origins of his works.⁶ To account for their extraordinary impact on the public consciousness of the period, we have to posit that they articulated anxieties and wishes that were widely shared.⁷ His novel is the extreme example. Conveying intense emotions within familiar circumstances through intimate letters, it invites identification. We know of its huge success in publishing terms.⁸ But we also know its effect through the reactions of individual readers who wrote with passionate enthusiasm to the author — a response in kind as well as degree scarcely known before.⁹ Modern critical readings of course have been much more suspicious.¹⁰ I shall consider this richest of texts, in narrative sequence, principally as a psychodrama for 'l'amant et l'ami'. Emphasis will fall on the wilful infantilism of the protagonist (innocence, passivity, dependency; the retreat from reality and sexuality), the idea of the family, and the cult of ideal illusion with its writing. This is not to deny development. Zilia's ambiguous progress becomes here the dialectic of nature and social order; but desire throughout is for the order of 'ce qui n'est pas'.

Origins; Family

The novel begins with a letter in which a young man declares his love to a young woman whom he tutors. This situation seems ordinary enough. But the writer's overwrought language gives their relationship a mythical status. He suggests that 'le Ciel a mis une conformité secrète entre nos affections, ainsi qu'entre nos goûts et nos âges. Si jeunes encore, rien n'altère en nous les penchants de la nature, et toutes nos inclinations semblent se rapporter' (I.I; p. 32). Heaven has made them secretly at one with each other. By their youth they are also still at one with the inclinations of nature — here implying simplicity and purity. Beneath apparent contingency, their relation is destined by a higher order; prior perhaps to sexual love, it is primal within an original order. Despite the everyday setting, and the avowed difference in 'la naissance et la fortune' (p. 32), affirmed for this couple is much of the radical overdetermination which Zilia proclaimed for herself and Aza.

The young man's 'faute' then is really towards the absent father, whose house he has entered improperly and whose women he is distracting from their duty. Not only is this crime shared by the women.12 The young man's letter contrives to displace culpability from himself and on to them. Blame lies firstly with the mother, for it was at her invitation only (his emphasis) that he entered the house.¹³ Blame lies with the daughter who must now send him away, for it was she who made him fall in love: 'que ma peine aussi que ma faute me vienne de vous' (p. 32).¹⁴ Or blame lies with passion itself, for he is helpless in its thrall: 'je ne puis vous fuir de moi-même'. Imprudently becoming Julie's tutor is to blame ('j'osai me charger de ce dangereux soin'), for as we have seen he had no idea of the perilous consequences. All that he can do now, he says at the start of the letter, is to set out the situation so that Julie can guide him: 'Voyez mes perplexités, et conseillez-moi' (p. 31). Thus not only is she or her mother, rather than he, held responsible for his present situation. She is to advise him what to do.

In contrast with her present corrupted condition, Julie indeed evokes an antecedent state of goodness. 'Je n'avais point dans l'âme des inclinations vicieuses. La modestie et l'honnêteté m'étaient chères; j'aimais à les nourrir dans une vie simple et laborieuse' (p. 39). Both her soul and her way of life were upright. Yet that state has also left her vulnerable, contingently at least, to the Tutor's seduction. Her explanation shifts the blame elsewhere (as the Tutor shifted it much more insistently on his own behalf), pointing to circumstances. These expand on the domestic situation outlined in Letter 1. 'Ma mère est faible et sans autorité; je connais l'inflexible sévérité de mon père [...]. Mon amie est absente, mon frère n'est plus; je ne trouve aucun protecteur au monde contre l'ennemi qui me poursuit.' Julie was vulnerable because her mother is weak (but accusing her mother is close to accusing herself). She was vulnerable because her father is severe and inflexible — terms which distinctly suggest the phallic patriarch, and take us back again in particular to Phèdre.¹⁶ She was vulnerable because her 'amie' (the friend) was away, and her brother (the brother) is dead. Her friend we shall learn is also her cousin, so we have not left the family. But the nuclear family (the family) has lost its son, which not only confirms a past plenitude to mourn. It offers a space to fill for the young Tutor, if not also a role which is filial and fraternal.

The fiction's first movement completed, epistolarity is expanded to embrace a third party. This is indeed the constant tierce and intermediary, Claire. Julie writes to Claire, absent at the deathbed of her former governess, asking Claire to return to assist in protecting her from her own feelings for the Tutor. Her letter, addressed to 'ma cousine' from 'ton amie', promptly evokes through the governess further bonds of family, friendship and love. 'Depuis la perte de ta mère elle t'avait élevée avec le plus grand soin; elle était plutôt ton amie que ta gouvernante. Elle t'aimait tendrement, et m'aimait parce que tu m'aimes' (1.6; p. 43). Both mother-surrogate and friend (to Julie's cousin and friend), the governess loved Claire and therefore loved Claire's beloved friend. Also confirmed here is the motif of loss (Claire's mother, the governess Chaillot herself). It appears again in Julie's second evocation of her lost sibling: '[...] quand je perdis le meilleur des frères' (p. 43).

Part I of Rousseau's novel ends with a double drama which confirms much of what we have established. First we have the crisis within the family, which centres on Julie and her father (I.63).20 Julie recounts to Claire how the Baron denounced his wife for admitting the Tutor to their house. Julie spoke up to defend him. Enraged, the Baron strikes her, despite her mother's attempted protection.²¹ She falls and bleeds. At this sight her father's demeanor changes; he lifts her up with much concern. Far from feeling resentful, Julie is moved by this paternal embarrassment. 'Non, ma chère, il n'y a point de confusion si touchante que celle d'un tendre père qui croit s'être mis dans son tort.' It prompts her to attribute to all fathers a quasi-divine moral status. 'Le cœur d'un père sent qu'il est fait pour pardonner, et non pour avoir besoin de pardon.' After dinner her relation to the Baron becomes more tenderly intimate. 'Mon père [...] me tirant à lui sans rien dire, [...] m'assit sur ses genoux. [...] je sentais de temps en temps ses bras se presser contre mes flancs avec un soupir assez mal étouffé.' What she calls 'ces douces étreintes' are of an ambiguous character which is then made explicit. 'Une certaine confusion qu'on n'osait vaincre mettaient entre un père et sa fille ce charmant embarras que la pudeur et l'amour donnent aux amants' (I.63; pp. 173-76) As the Tutor appeared to imagine himself as child as well as lover to Julie, she appears to imagine herself as daughter but also lover to her father.

Through violence and sexualized embraces, the Baron takes back possession of his daughter. But this primitively patriarchal role is duplicated in his relation to other members of his family. Astonishingly, he is linked m the text to the death of every one of them. The loss of his son is presented as retribution for having in his own youth killed a close friend in a duel. 'Depuis cinq ans qu'il a perdu le cher soutien de son nom et l'espoir de sa famille, il s'en reproche la mort comme un juste châtiment du Ciel, qui vengea sur son fils unique le père infortuné qu'il priva du sien' (I.57: pp. 159—60). Later, when his wife dies, we will be told that he is responsible, through his sexual philandering. 'S'il faut attribuer sa perte au chagrin, ce chagrin vient de plus loin, et c'est à son époux seul qu'il faut s'en prendre. Longtemps inconstant et volage, il prodigua les feux de sa jeunesse à mille objets [...]' (III.7; p. 323). As to the Tutor — the aspirant son-in-law — the Baron declares a ban 011 him which he backs with the promise of mortal violence. In Julie's Letter 63 we have his very words to her. 'Je n'accepterais jamais un tel gendre. Je vous défends de le voir et de lui parler de votre vie, et cela, autant pour la sûreté de la sienne que pour votre honneur' (p. 177). Later he will threaten to kill her too (III.10). Her Letter 63 concludes by revealing that her father's assault has caused her to lose the infant that she was carrying. Thus the Baron has killed his grandchild as well. Is any patriarch 111 any primitive tale (or even Racine's Thésée) as murderously possessive as this 'père'? Killing the infant in Julie's womb, he has also thereby killed the progeny of the Tutor. He has in effect destroyed the sexual potency of his daughter's lover. This confirms the logic of the subtitle of the whole novel. Eloisa's tutor Abelard was castrated by her uncle and guardian. His modern counterpart is emasculated by the Freudian father.²²

The burden of Julie's letter on 'le monde is not how to succeed m it but how to protect oneself against it. She begins: 'je me borne à te recommander deux choses, parce qu'elles tiennent plus au sentiment qu'à l'expérience [...]: n'abandonne jamais la vertu, et n'oublie jamais ta Julie!' On each of these two absolutes ('jamais ... jamais'), she then expatiates in turn. 'L'amour des sublimes vertus' is not to be acquired from 'tristes raisonneurs' but discovered 'au fond de ton âme'. 'C'est là que tu verras ce simulacre éternel du vrai beau dont la contemplation nous anime d'un saint enthousiasme, et que nos passions souillent sans cesse sans pouvoir jamais l'effacer,' This way of thinking is promptly defined and implicitly approved by Rousseau, who tells us in an editorial note: 'La véritable philosophie des amants est celle de Platon' (p. 223). It is in fact a Platonism which is vaguely Christianized ('souillent'), but also aestheticized ('sublimes'), and moralized ('vertus'). The Tutor is then told that his models from ancient history should not be wealthy Croesus or triumphant Caesar, but those which had enthused him. 'C'était Régulus au milieu des tourments, c'était Catón déchirant ses entrailles, c'étaient tous ces vertueux infortunés' (p. 224). One may observe that this is not even about protecting oneself against Paris, but masochist fantasy. Explicitly attributed to the Tutor himself, it is of a piece with his passivity and the scenarios in which he is sexually assaulted.

This judgement is presented as existential. It is nevertheless absolute. Whereas Zilia was taken through a process of gradual discovery of French society, the Tutor is assigned at the start a statement of total alienation. Zilia's literal inability at the start to communicate in French becomes his metaphor of mutual incomprehension ('la langue du pays / la mienne'). But what each seeks essentially is not a dialogue, nor even a verbal exchange. It is another heart like their own, to understand the immediate language of feeling ('mon cœur sent qu'il n'est point écouté'). This is not the exploration of difference but the search for sameness. Zilia, though distressed by French society, at least found companionship with Déterville and his sister Céline (whom she lauded for being un-French and like Incas). The Tutor will find no one. Zilia's social sphere was however, like herself, highly aristocratic. The world of the Tutor, as a commoner and a male, is less circumscribed. His alienation is more modern not only by its absoluteness, and its representativeness. It is also affirmed in relation to a new urban entity — 'la foule'. The city becomes collective and anonymous. There one's individual sensibility is crushed ('à la presse', 'resserrée'). In Rousseau's forceful paradox, one is most alone in the crowd.

The section on Paris which follows, however, seems misconceived. Observation is actually confined once more to the privileged classes. Instead of developing towards a synthesis, the account begins with generalities ('le ton général de la société': I.16; p. 241) and ends with specifics (set pieces on 'les Parisiennes' and 'l'Opéra': II.21 and 23). There are marked inconsistencies of attitude and tone. In the first letter for example, the French are initially celebrated ('le Français est naturellement bon, ouvert, hospitalier, bienfaisant'), then demeaned as 'machines qui ne pensent point, et qu'on fait penser par ressorts' (II.14; pp., 232, 234). We find judicious reflexions on philosophical method (II. 16), but also commentary that is grossly abusive or viciously satiric.26 This inconsistency may stem from several causes. Firstly, Rousseau is taking a very well trodden path. The 'portrait of Paris' has been a standard exercise in several prose genres for over fifty years, so finding new angles is not easy.²⁷ Secondly, he is unable to resolve his own profound ambivalence towards French culture. This is reflected both in the Tutor's polarities and in Julie's criticism of his prevailing hostility.²⁸ Thirdly and most relevantly to our analysis of the work, Rousseau cannot decide whether he is writing a series of quasi-authorized utterances on Paris, or exhibiting through them the deleterious effects of the city on the fictional Tutor.

Let us consider the letters first as authorized utterance. The Tutor's critique of the French is narrower in scope than Zilia's, for he eschews politics and religion.²⁹ It seems however that he too disapproves of social mobility and the pursuit of wealth.³⁰ In other domains as well his position is quite similar to that of Zilia. Again the social virtues of France are first appreciated then treated as largely a matter of false appearance. Again the visitor deplores French frivolity and contradiction. The Tutor complains that every group speaks from its own interest, and each individual will 'changer de principes comme d'assemblées'. Plurality and play distress him too. 'Chacun se met sans cesse en contradiction avec lui-même, sans qu'on s'avise de le trouver mauvais'. Like Zilia, he has the highest notion of books, and he is accordingly shocked by the reality of authors, 'On n'exige pas même d'un auteur, surtout d'un moraliste, qu'il parle comme ses livres, ni qu'il agisse comme il parle' (II.14; pp. 234-35).

The Tutor, like Zilia, criticizes social rituals and the dominance m conversation of 'la chronique scandaleuse' and 'le ridicule'. He too complains of French tragedy, contrasting it with theatre in his homeland which encourages 'l'amour de la patrie et de la liberté' (II.17; pp. 247-51). On the 'woman question' he too assigns a new importance to marriage. More generally than Zilia (who disapproved of the freedom of wives to receive men at home), he deplores 'le mélange indiscret et continuel des deux sexes' (p. 269). This not only encourages immoral liaisons; it also undermines the qualities which are specific to each sex — an important new concern. However, like Zilia, he blames men for the faults of fashionable women: 'elles font le mal poussées par les hommes, et le bien de leur propre mouvement'. He too says that women in France are nominally respected but actual despised. When free of pernicious urban influences they can be natural, judicious and beneficent (II.21; pp. 275-76). Only on the topic of the Paris opera does the Tutor seem to differ radically from Zilia: the music and dance which she hailed as nature's language are buried under sarcasm here (II.23). But he too has celebrated 'tout le pouvoir de la musique sur l'âme' — when it is Italian (I.48; p. 132). We shall see that musicality is a quality which Rousseau seeks for his novel.

The Tutor formally surrenders his claim.32 Julie marries, and in two great letters to him she presents what is in fact the complement to Claire's argument. Julie too affirms that separation is the best thing for them. She too sets out the perils of sexual love. Again at their centre is inevitable deterioration, and it is even presented in the same terms. '[L'amour] s'use avec la jeunesse, il s'efface avec la beauté [...]. Combien alors il est à craindre que l'ennui ne succède à des sentiments trop vifs, que leur déclin sans s'arrêter à l'indifférence ne passe jusqu'au dégoût' [my emphases]. But for Julie the alternative that endures is the arranged marriage that she is entering. 'Cette union [est] un attachement très tendre qui, pour n'être pas précisément de l'amour, n'en est pas moins doux et n'en est que plus durable' [my emphasis]. Having distinguished between marriage and love, she then declares them opposed, to the advantage of marriage. Firstly, 'l'amour est accompagné d'une inquiétude continuelle de jalousie ou de privation, peu convenable au mariage, qui est un état de jouissance et de paix.' Secondly, 'les amants ne voient jamais qu'eux', whereas 'on ne s'épouse point pour penser uniquement l'un à l'autre, mais pour remplir conjointement les devoirs de la vie civile, gouverner prudemment la maison, bien élever ses enfants'. Finally, 'il n'y a point de passion qui nous fasse une si forte illusion que l'amour; on prend sa violence pour un signe de sa durée'. With her husband however, 'nulle illusion ne nous prévient l'un pour l'autre; nous nous voyons tels que nous sommes' (III.20; pp. 372-73). In a word, whereas the love relationship is bound to decline, marriage can endure. Love is unstable, but marriage is a state offering both 'jouissance' and 'paix'. The goal is, once again, permanence. It is the means which are opposed: not this time illusion (the Tutor's option) but recognition of the reality of the other; not self-completeness but 'les devoirs de la vie civile'.

This argument helps us to understand the central event in Julie's account of her marriage in III.18. This long letter begins by announcing to the Tutor that all is changed. 'Liée au sort d'un époux, ou plutôt aux volontés d'un père par une chaîne indissoluble, j'entre dans une nouvelle carrière qui ne doit finir qu'à la mort' (p. 340). She looks back to tell again their whole story — from their original ideal condition to their recent fallen state ('livrés au crime': p. 352). But then, in the church and during the public ceremony of marriage, she experienced a transformation:

It is in these terms that he begins his account (to Edouard) of his arrival at Clarens. 'Elle m'a reçu dans sa maison; plus heureux queje ne fus de ma vie je loge avec elle sous un même toit' (IV.6; P.418). He is happy as never before, because 'she' (no proper name is supplied or needed at the start) has housed him, not just morally (compare 'entré dans votre maison' in I.1) but literally.·³⁵ She herself embraces him, and like an infant he draws warmth and life from her: 'je puise dans ses bras la chaleur et la vie.' Only then does he acknowledge the patriarchal presence of Wolmar, and his superior claim on Julie. She, the couple and the house are brought together in one sentence which realizes his desire: to be entirely taken over. 'J'observai du coin de l'œil qu'on avait détaché ma malle et remisé ma chaise. Julie me prit sous le bras, etje m'avançai avec eux vers la maison, presque oppressé d'aise de voir qu'on y prenait possession de moi.' They will look after him and keep him safe. But he is given freedom too, 'M. de Wolmar me prenant par la main me conduisit ensuite au logement qui m'était destiné. Voilà, me dit-il en y entrant, votre appartement; il n'est point celui d'un étranger, il ne sera plus celui d'un autre, et désormais il restera vide ou occupé par vous' (pp. 421-23). This utopian situation we have already met in a general form:³⁶ But now it is revealed 111 its intimate form, the childlike dream of combining complete security with liberty.

Moral authority is however quickly established, through the family. Julie presents to him her two young sons, and embraces him again. He perceives how this changes his response. 'C'était une mère de famille que j'embrassais; je la voyais environnée de son époux et de ses enfants; ce cortège m'en imposait' (p. 422). The cult of the family served already to shame as well as defeat the Tutor's claims on Julie in the first half of the work:³⁷ But now the dysfunctional Etaiiges have been replaced by the model couple of herself and Wolmar. Then it is the turn of the spouse (not 'mari' but dignified 'époux'), who takes Saint-Preux aside. 'Prenant le ton d'un homme instruit de mes anciennes erreurs, mais plein de confiance dans ma droiture, il me parla comme un père à son enfant, et me mit à force d'estime dans l'impossibilité de le démentir' (p. 423). Again the Tutor has already undergone this form of moral blackmail.·³⁸ But now it is institutionalized. Saint-Preux is subjugated by both parents. If his desire for Julie resurfaces, the image of the couple is present in his mind to repress or rectify it. 'J'ai cru voir cette femme si charmante, si chaste et si vertueuse [...]. Je voyais à ses côtés le grave Wolmar [et] je croyais voir son œil pénétrant et judicieux percer au fond de mon cœur' (IV. 11; pp. 486-87). The arbitrary authority and physical violence of the old regime are 110 more; but in their place is a more orderly and powerful rule which is moral and interior.

As the detailed description of a model community, the account of Clarens belongs to the genre of utopia. But it also marks a subgenre which has been called 'l'utopie des "petites sociétés'".⁴⁰ It is utopia in a new transcription which is intimate, focusing on an autonomous little group. More notably perhaps, the account of Clarens is also intimate in its existential ambition. It sets out not just a polity but a state of being. To the regressive implications of the Utopian mode and the elect group are added that of creating for the masters a totally satisfying condition. Yet even within their retreat, further retreats seem necessary. Inside the private space of the house is a space still more private, the 'salle d'Apollon'. This dining-room is 'différente de celle où l'on mange ordinairement'; 'les simples hôtes n'y sont point admis; jamais on n'y mange quand on a des étrangers; c'est l'asile inviolable de la confiance, de l'amitié, de la liberté' (V.2; pp. 543-44). Inside the grounds of the estate is Julie's 'Elysée'. 'Ce lieu [...] est tellement caché [...] qu'on ne l'apperçoit de nulle part [...] et il est toujours soigneusement fermé à la clé.'⁴¹ Taken into it, Saint-Preux's first impression is of 'd'obscurs ombrages, une verdure animée et vive, des fleurs éparses de tous côtés, un gazouillement d'eau courante et le chant de mille oiseaux' (IV. 11; p. 471). Julie's garden has prompted much critical interpretation.⁴² Luxuriant and sensual, primal and innocent, a domain of vegetation, water and gentle animals, it seems to represent for her the 'éternelle tranquillité' (p. 477) implied by its name. Saint-Preux likens it to an 'île' (pp. 479, 486). The "île' and the 'asile', en abyme, each confirms the aspirations of Clarens as a whole while revealing deep anxiety about their attainability.

The principle and method of Wolmar s cure are set out later m Part IV. He explains that Saint-Preux still possesses '[l]es sentiments [...] qu'il eut dans sa première jeunesse'. Thus, in effect, 'ce n'est pas de Julie de Wolmar qu'il est amoureux, c'est de Julie d'Etange'. Because he loves Julie 'dans le temps passé', the solution is clear. It is summarized in the famous formulation: 'Otez-lui la mémoire, il n'aura plus d'amour'. Wolmar's procedure therefore is to 'donn[er] le change à son imagination. A la place de sa maîtresse je le force de voir toujours l'épouse d'un honnête homme et la mère de mes enfants; j'efface un tableau par un autre et couvre le passé du présent'. Retreat into memory and imagination is to be systematically negated by present reality. Saint-Preux is to be conditioned to recognize and accept what is. Wolmar perceives that Julie too may still be in love with the past. But 'un voile de sagesse et d'honnêteté fait tant de replis autour de son cœur', so that even she cannot know how fully she is cured. Able however to judge 'les forces de l'un et de l'autre', he proportions each stage of his treatment to their capacities: 'Je ne les expose qu'à des épreuves qu'ils peuvent soutenir' (IV.14; pp. 508-11). We recall that in the first half of the novel the Tutor was repeatedly faced with 'épreuves' of obedience to his lady. Now, instead of the ancient ordeals of courtly love, he is subjected to Wolmar's scientific assessments of his fitness for today.

The Rome episode exposes the real significance of the repeated testing of Saint-Preux. The rules in this case are entirely arbitrary.46 But Wolmar says (like Edouard) that Saint-Preux is to be judged absolutely by it. Yet he also says that he had already made his final decision. Not only are the two positions contradictory, but each in itself is plainly excessive. What they share is the idea of a moment of decisive moral judgement on the protagonist. We have noted that the theme of testing his cure from love, in the latter half of the novel, follows on that of testing his love in the first half. The purpose of the 'épreuve' is apparently reversed, but the emphasis is repeated. From all this it seems evident that the nature of the test matters less than the idea of being tested. There is a need for Saint-Preux constantly to prove himself. The fantasy — both terror and desire — is that he is continually the focus of everyone's judgement. We noted Julie's reassurance to him as a lover that each one of his 'sacrifices' was counted and credited. At Clarens judgement on him is collective but internalized, and identified with the good father Wolmar. 'Je ne crains point que son œil éclairé lise au fond de mon cœur', Saint-Preux claims (V.7; p. 609). But his state of insecurity can never be relieved, for no 'témoignage' or 'preuve' can ever be conclusive. The fullest expression of the fear and the wish (in effect, the paranoia and the megalomania) appears in those instances when we are told that Saint-Preux is unaware that he is being tested. Then even if he fails he can fall back on his ultimate plea which is his 'franchise', an obligation only to himself

We know that Saint-Preux's apprehension is right. For we have read Julie's earlier letter to Claire arguing for the marriage. Julie says that not only has Claire admitted to her that she loves Saint-Preux, but 'peut-être ne t'es-tu livrée au mal que tu combattais depuis tant d'années, que pour mieux achever de m'en guérir' (V.13; p. 631). So Julie too, despite her own enduring virtue, is not cured of her love for Saint-Preux. Julie's avowal is made more directly near the end of this letter. 'Si, malgré mes raisons, ce projet ne te convient pas, mon avis est qu'à quelque prix que ce soit nous écartions de nous cet homme dangereux, toujours redoutable à l'une ou à l'autre' (p. 634). Saint-Preux is still the object of desire for both women; blameless, he may nevertheless suffer for it at their hands. We can now see how Edouard's Roman entanglements constitute a mythical repetition. As Saint-Preux has to fend off Julie and Claire, his alter ego Edouard is also pursued by two women. But one of the latter, Laure, is a former prostitute. The other, the Marquise, turns out to be a homicidal adulteress (pp. 651-52). Both moreover are denizens of the modern Babylon.⁴⁸ Thus the doubles of Julie and Claire are scarlet women. The parallel between Julie and Laure is made explicit, as we saw, for Julie herself recognizes that both of them have fallen and recovered (VI. 13; p. 627). Both too are assigned names from medieval legend: 'Héloïse' and 'Laure'. Laura was the lady and muse of Petrarch, the poet who furnishes the epigraph that Rousseau chose for his own title-page, apparently referring to its own inspiration 'Julie, or the new Eloisa'. But the new Laura is a prostitute. While the emphasis in the story of Julie is placed on the recovery of virtue, in that of her Roman double it falls on sexual sin. Under Saint-Preux's guidance, Laure has done the decent thing — withdrawing her disturbing sexual presence from her lover and setting herself up as a sentimental cult among celibate men. Why will Julie not do the same?

The two cousins evoke their appropriate domains ot illusion. 'O que les illusions de l'amour sont aimables!' exclaims Julie (I.46; p. 129), alluding to the idealizing imperative of love. 'Sainte et pure amitié! porte à mon esprit tes douces illusions', pleads Claire (I.30; p. 97), indicating illusion's role as refuge from the clear-eyed duties of friendship. The function of refuge is broadened by Julie, who gives it its most intensely pathetic expression. 'O douces illusions! O chimères, dernières ressources des malheureux! Ah, s'il se peut, tenez-nous lieu de réalité! Vous êtes quelque chose encore à ceux pour qui le bonheur n'est plus rien' (II.24; pp. 289—90). Illusion is the final and necessary resort of those who suffer. The two women are given the task of explaining the philosophy of illusion to Saint Preux (who has to be naïve even here). In the first half of the novel, focussed on the lovers, its elucidation is assigned to Claire. We have already seen how, as the couple's separation becomes inevitable, she sets out to Saint-Preux the advantages of renouncing physical possession of Julie. In this way, 'vos cœurs unis jusqu'au tombeau prolongeront dans une illusion charmante votre jeunesse avec vos amours' (p. 321). But we also saw that Julie with her marriage to Wolmar converts resolutely to the real. 'Nulle illusion ne nous prévient l'un pour l'autre; nous nous voyons tels que nous sommes' (p· 373)· It is however Julie's accounts of illusion, both now and near the novel's end, which are the most profound.

The first suffuses the great letter to Saint-Preux on her marriage. In a narrative abyme of the novel so far, she recounts the story of their love. The objective truth of her own perceptions is not denied, but it is consistently put into question through the language of belief and delusion. Presenting the origin of her passion, she says (to quote again, but with emphasis inserted) 'Je cms voir [...] dans vous [...] ce queje croyais sentir en moi-même' (p. 340). The development of their love she represents as a succession of hopes which were legitimate yet unfounded. She bestowed the first kiss when, 'touchée de votre retenue, je crus pouvoir sans risque modérer la mienne' (p. 342). Realizing her error, she was then able to restrain herself for as long as 'une flatteuse illusion' allowed her to believe that they might be wed (p. 343). Disabused of that hope in turn, she gave herself to him. Their sexual encounter prompted in her 'une illusion nouvelle', that of fixing their natural bond through pregnancy (p. 344). But this aspiration too was pathetically mistaken: 'Hélas, je fus encore abusée par une si douce espérance' (p. 345).⁵⁴ Thus the imposed marriage becomes inevitable. In the church Julie undergoes the rebirth to immanent order (the matter of the second half of this letter and of the novel). But here too her account seems to put the objective truth of her experience quite insistently into question. 'Je crus voir l'organe de la providence et entendre la voix de Dieu', she writes. 'Une puissance inconnue sembla corriger tout à coup le désordre de mes affections' (my emphases; p. 354). Later, 'je crus me sentir renaître; je crus recommencer une autre vie' (p. 355). Finally, for her new life, 'je crois avoir une règle plus sûre' (p. 364). How her return to order came about she does not know. 'Tout ce que je sais, c'est que je l'ai vivement désiré' (III.18; p. 364). All that is certain is the subject's passionate aspiration.

The vision is the mark and privilege of the superior soul. But because it cannot be made real, it also haunts and frustrates. For Saint-Preux, the central form of the vision is Julie herself, whom he cannot possess in life. But she and he are also the principal aspiring subjects. And as lovers of the good they are at one with Claire and joined by others (Edouard, more temperately Wolmar), to form a little group. Inhabiting the world of their own ideals, they are in turn a spectacle for those of us who can see. This Rousseau himself will set out, in the Second Preface or 'Entretien sur les romans'. In a well-known word, 'l'amour n'est qu'illusion; il se fait, pour ainsi dire, un autre univers'. For 'la passion [...] voit son objet parfait; [...] elle le place dans le Ciel'. We find this imperative, Rousseau says, in his letter-writers. 'Deux ou trois jeunes gens simples, mais sensibles, s'entretiennent entr'eux des intérêts de leurs cœurs. [...] Ils sont enfants, penseront-ils en hommes? Ils sont étrangers [...], connaîtront-ils le monde et la société? [...] Ils savent aimer; ils rapportent tout à leur passion [...] ils se trompent sur tout [... mais] leurs erreurs valent mieux que le savoir des sages.' Their childlike illusions are worth more than worldly wisdom because they seek the best. But reality always fails them, so they must retreat into themselves:

It is their 'petit monde', different from ours, that is exhibited to us in the letters. Asked whether the letters are genuine, Rousseau refuses to say (pp. 5, 28). Like his protagonists, he cannot assure that the better order has objective existence. As they show forth their vision, his role is to reveal the 'spectacle véritablement nouveau' ('la nouvelle Héloïse'). For this Julie or Julie is unknown to the actual world.⁵⁸ Its truth will be recognized by those whose hearts, like his own, can see and believe.

Writing, and the Body

We observed that writing had a special status for the protagonist of the Péruvienne. But Zilia was, from the start, separated from her lover. Rousseau's two lovers are together for most of the opening Part of his novel (and later at Clarens). Yet they too make a cult of letters and writing. In the history of their love, their letters not only recount events but to a great extent are the events. The Tutor, though he is with Julie every day, declares his love to her by letter. It is by letter also that Julie avows her love to him. He is banished the first time by letter. Julie announces her marriage to him by letter, and by letter she ends their relationship and correspondence (III.18 and 20).59 On his return, at Clarens, the two may talk and spend time together, but written communication between them is excluded. Julie's initiative in starting to write to Saint-Preux again (VI.6) reveals her dissatisfaction with life (VI.8), and heralds the recognition that she still loves him — avowed to him in her last letter. Their letters are thus, like Zilia's, the metonym as well as the metaphor of love.⁶⁰ But Zilia's love, proclaimed in her writing, was unproblematic. The love of Rousseau's couple contravenes the law of Julie's respected parents, and their letters are secret. Zilia's narcissism is partially displaced by the couple's sense of guilt. Zilia's possible preference for letters and writing rather than sexual presence is more evident in Saint-Preux.

Saint-Preux writes first, and he seduces by his writing. This, says Julie in her review of the history of their love, was the fatal moment. 'Vous écrivîtes. Au lien de jeter au feu votre première lettre, ou de la porter à ma mère, j'osai l'ouvrir. Ce fut là mon crime, et tout le reste fut forcé' (III.18; pp. 341-42). Her crime was to open his first letter. His was to write it. But he had to do so, as he declares in his second. 'Le crime que mon cœur a commis, ma plume ne peut le désavouer' (p. 35). His pen must speak the truth of his heart. This is all that he claims to do. His first letter ends: 'Si vous avez lu cette lettre, vous avez fait tout ce que j'oserais vous demander' (p. 34). He simply exhibits himself, and Julie is overwhelmed. ('La plus dangereuse de vos séductions est de n'en point employer': p. 63).⁶¹ But she is the divinity to whom he offers himself. Everything flows to and from her.⁶² From now 011, all the initiatives in love, and therefore the important letters, are hers. The first is her reply, which he celebrates not only for what it says but as true language and as an object in itself: 'Queje la relise mille fois, cette lettre adorable où ton amour et tes sentiments sont écrits en caractères de feu' (I.5; p. 41). Here begins his cult of Julie's letters.

Banished to the Haut-Valais, he awaits a missive from her, The place where he goes to receive it, we should observe, is called Sion (I.19-20). At last the post arrives. In his account (couched in the dramatic present):

Julie's letter and her writing are treated as sacred. The letter is linked through Synecdoche with the bodies of the writer and of the receiver ('les traits de ta main', 'la mienne en s'avançant'). The receiver's extreme reaction is marked through a whole series of physiological notations. We proceed from childish impatience ('je me rends importun') to the figure of ultimate infantile possession ('je la dévore').⁶³ Possessiveness is implicit in his curious insistence on hiding with his letter. We are told that this secrecy is prompted by 'un amour craintif' — love's modesty or delicacy. But the retreat from 'tant de témoins' also implies an element of guilt.64 The inspectorate will be institutionalized at Clarens, where love is repressed and correspondence forbidden.

Letters themselves however function as 'témoins', in a different sense — testifying to and for their writers. Saint-Preux's 'cœur' is rendered, unmediated, by his 'plume'. Through writing he not only must but can show himself truthfully. Julie ends her great letter on their love and her marriage with a broader but similar claim. 'Voilà le fidèle tableau de ma vie, et l'histoire naïve de tout ce qui s'est passé dans mon cœur' (III.18; p. 364). As in the Péruvienne, but more explicitly, the letter is declared by its writer to be entirely faithful. Rousseau's plural writers however need not rely like Zilia on self-witness. Saint-Preux vouches for the writing of Julie: 'Comment ne te pas connaître en lisant tes lettres [...] qui te peignent si bien' (II. 16; p. 244). Claire tells Saint-Preux that his self-abnegating missive to Mme d'Etange has smitten both mother and daughter: '[Mme d'Etange] n'a pu lire votre lettre sans attendrissement; elle a même eu la faiblesse de la laisser voir à sa fille, et l'effort qu'a fait la pauvre Julie pour contenir à cette lecture ses soupirs et ses pleurs l'a fait tomber évanouie' (III.4; p. 313)! In this first half of the novel (Parts I—III) we have the letters of lovers, whose writing testifies to them 'naturally'. But in Part IV that function is brilliantly modified, to fit the demands of order at Clarens. Writing becomes for Julie an act of moral self-examination, deliberately undertaken to expose for condemnation any lingering signs of love. Faced with being alone with Saint-Preux, when Wolmar goes away, she resolves to 'prendre contre moi la meilleure précaution que je pu[i]sse employer'. Not only will she tell her husband what she says and does; 'Je m'imposfe] même d'écrire chaque lettre comme s'il ne la devait point voir, et de la lui montrer ensuite' (IV.7; p. 430). Rousseau's fascination with this tortured form of transparency (or 'épreuve') is soon confirmed. Claire tenderly rebukes Julie for her plan, saying that it implies a lack of belief in herself and in their 'amitié' as a sufficient assurance of virtue (IV.8; p. 432). But then Claire herself proposes to her an almost identical precaution. 'C'est de faire en l'absence de ton mari un journal fidèle pour lui être montré à son retour' (IV.13; p. 505). We recall Saint-Preux's internal undertaking after being received by Wolmar at Clarens: 'Je me résolus bien de tenir toujours mon cœur en état d'être vu de lui' (IV.6; p. 425). The equivalent for Julie here is her writing.

But Clarens confirms as well as annuls the aspirations of the former lovers. In a further masterstroke, Rousseau re-introduces there the collection of letters that Saint-Preux had written to Julie, and has Wolmar declare it to be the guarantee of their present virtue. They are to be held to the moral self-witness that was recorded in their writing. Wolmar produces the letters out of a drawer, like a magician, and Julie in her account mimes astonishment for us:

Though this letter-novel is polyphonic, 'les styles se rapprochent'. Fundamental to our experience of Rousseau's other and better world is its unity and intensity of tone. 'Style', despite its importance, will be considered here only briefly.68 But perhaps the two most notable features of the writing are sensuality and musicality. Looking first at the former, not only are 'illusions' made sensually present. Even the most elevated ideas are rendered through the language of the body. Affective abstractions are yoked to verbs of physiological process. The most characteristic images include 'goûter', 'nourrir', 'dévorer', 'consumer', 'pénétrer', 'blesser', and 'respirer'. Represented by the writer and conveyed to the reader as almost visceral experience, moral sentiments are eroticized. (Is not this development of 'sensibility', integrating Enlightenment moralism and sensationism with regressive desire, at the very centre of Rousseau's appeal to his contemporaries?) The same organic metaphor may be used of sexual love in the first half and of the collectivity in the second. For example, 'tarir' is initially linked to love ('Tarissez s'il se peut la source du poison qui me nourrit et me tue': p. 33), then several times to Julie's tears. But later, and with an apparently opposed value, it is assigned to the estate. Clarens has a 'fond que la prudence de Julie ne laisse jamais tarir' (p. 552), as has the privileged group, in which 'la conversation des amis ne tarit jamais' (p. 558). Figurative moral language can become literal in the second half. Thus in I—III the many uses of the verb 'goûter' (almost 80!) are all metaphorical, until at Clarens we treat matters of diet (and Julie's dairy: pp. 451-53). Similarly 'faim' in the first half is central to two elaborate metaphors (one apropos the bosoms of Parisian ladies, p. 266), but is also used literally after that.⁶⁹ The language is principally that of tasting and devouring, penetration and being wounded. It confirms the imperatives that we have identified: orality (in the psychological sense), incorporation (implying autarchy or reintegration), and masochism (with a hint of sadism). We must however include the language of flooding and stanching.⁷⁰ Almost all of these elements are present when Saint-Preux writes of his reaction to the penitent Julie: 'je voulais [...] essuyer de mes lèvres ces précieuses larmes, les recueillir au fond de mon cœur' (I.31; p. 100). Undoubtedly, the language of the letters is itself written to be spoken, tasted if not absorbed, and savoured.

We noted that in the musical performance, as 'tous les concertants semblaient animés du même esprit', so 'l'exécution coulait sans effort avec une facilité charmante'. Flow is probably the most important of all Rousseau's corporeal images.71 His novel ('que l'amour a réellement dicté [...]') is itself to flow. Its plenitude is at once spiritual, maternal and original ('comme une source vivante'). The writing is characterized by what has been called a rhythmical amplitude.⁷² Paragraphs are literally ample by the norms of the period, as are many letters and the whole work. The diction and style aspire to harmony.⁷³ On the larger scale (the letter, the Part, the whole) the governing principle is symphonic.⁷⁴ Rousseau replaces French classical economy and rococo variety with long movements. Instead of increasing its pace towards a climax, this novel quite systematically slows down — approaching the condition of stasis which its protagonists seek.⁷⁵ Overall there is a 'historical' progress from sexual love to civil order, but we have seen how the itinerary and motifs of the first level are repeated at Clarens. And there is a third level at the end, which is an absolute flight (to the afterlife) and a return (to the 'premier sentiment'). The underlying pattern is repetition and return. Rousseau's polyphonic novel approximates to the monophonie condition of the Péruvienne, but by way of pervasive and overarching musical structures, The principle is again announced — or echoed — within the work. 'Je suis convaincu que de toutes les harmonies, il n'y en a point d'aussi agréable que le chant à l'unisson', declares Saint-Preux. But he refers to the ballads which are sung 'en chœur' or 'alternativement à voix seule et en refrain'. Within these songs, at Clarens, he and Julie and Claire hear 'des tours et des expressions dont nous nous sommes servis autrefois'. The vocal music is 'de vieilles romances dont les airs ne sont pas piquants; mais ils ont je ne sais quoi d'antique et de doux qui touche à la longue.' (pp. 609-10). Here we have another mise-en-abyme of the whole in which the melody is massively arranged, orchestrated, expanded and prolonged.

Notes to Chapter 2

1. As noted previously, references to the works of Rousseau are to the Œuvres complètes in the Pléiade edition, 5 vols (Paris: Gallimard, 1959—95) but with modernized spelling. Vol. 1 includes Les Confessions, vol. 11 includes La Nouvelle Héloïse for which textual references will be given in the form: (Part.Letter; page).

2. Freud, 'Creative writers and daydreaming' (PFL XIV, pp. 129—41). Rousseau recognizes too the role of what we might call moral and affective narcissism. His reflexions on his own deprivation were 'tristes mais attendrissantes', prompting a 'regret qui n'était pas sans douceur'. 'Le sentiment de mon prix interne en me donnant celui de cette injustice [de la réalité] m'en dédommageait en quelque sorte, et me faisait verser des larmes que j'aimais à laisser couler' (Confessions, p. 426).

3. 'Ce fut le 9 avril 1756 queje quittai la ville pour n'y plus habiter' (p. 403).

4. Jean Starobinski, Jean-Jacques Rousseau: La Transparence et l'Obstacle, revised and augmented edn (Paris: Gallimard, 1971).

5. For a review of the debate, see ch. 2 of Margaret Ogrodnick, Instinct and Intimacy: Political Philosophy and Autobiography in Rousseau (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999).

6. Most relevantly for my present concerns, he declares repeatedly that his whole philosophy of man and society derives from a vision: OC 1, p. 351 (Confessions), p. 828 (Lettres à Malesherbes), p. 1135 (Dialogues).

7. A persuasive illustration is offered by Carol Blum, Rousseau and the Republic of Virtue.

8. Seventy-two editions by 1800: see Jo-Ann E. McEachern, Bibliography of the Writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau to 1800, 1: 'Julie, ou La Nouvelle Héloïse' (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 1993).

9. See Robert Darnton, 'Readers Respond to Rousseau: The Fabrication of Romantic Sensitivity', in The Great Cat Massacre (London: Allen Lane, 1984), pp. 215—56; Claude Labrosse, Lire au xviii^e siècle: La Nouvelle Héloïse' et ses lecteurs (Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1985).

10. Notable Freudian accounts have been offered by Tony Tanner, Adultery in the Novel (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979), ch. 2; more selectively by Anne Deneys-Tunney, Ecritures du corps: De Descartes à Laclos (Paris: PUF, 1992), ch. 3, and Christophe Martin, Espaces du féminin, especially pp. 66—71, 166—73. Tanner is particularly valuable on this novel's regressive imperative to indifferentiation, Deneys-Tunney and Martin on ambivalence towards the sexual mother. Both these motifs form part of my reading.

11. Critics habitually refer to this character as 'Saint-Preux'. This is however not only a pseudonym (we never know his real name) but also one used solely in the second half of the novel. I will follow the same practice, though this requires employing for the first half an awkward designation such as 'the Tutor'. In any story, only 'I' does not need a proper name.

12. The mother too is drawn to the Tutor. His claim that '[elle] m'accable de bontés' (p. 32), is later confirmed when he and we are told that 'sa mère [...] eut toujours du penchant pour vous' (III. 7; p. 323).

13. As if to confirm our oedipal reading, Rousseau as 'Editeur' will intervene through a footnote to blame the mother. In this situation 'les deux amants sont à plaindre; la mère seule est inexcusable' (note to I.24; p. 85). His intervention itself is unnecessary, his adverse judgement evidently excessive.

14. Again Rousseau will intervene, to denounce the daughter. Julie, in a later letter to the Tutor, assigns the first paragraph to their arrangements, then celebrates her father's return home, which she says has occupied her mind entirely since his arrival. An editorial footnote at this point reads, in full, 'L'article [=paragraphe] qui précède prouve quelle ment' (note to I.20; p. 72)! The intervention affirms more clearly the absolute primacy of the father.

15. On the significance of the repeated resonances of Racine in this work, see my 'Œdipe Narcisse: Sur l'intertexte racinien dans La Nouvelle Héloïse', in L'Amour dans 'La Nouvelle Héloïse': Texte et Intertexte, ed. by Jacques Berchtold and Michel Porret (Annales de la Société Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 44 (2002)), pp. 215-28.

16. 'Mon père la réprouve, et par des lois sévères / Il défend de donner des neveux à ses frères', explains Hippolyte, referring to Thésée's interdiction of the object of his own passion (Phèdre, ll. 105—06). Racine's lines marvellously convey the imbrication of the family, sexuality and the law of the father.

17. For a reading of the Tutor's relation to Julie in terms of 'abjection', see Deneys-Tunney, Ecritures du corps, pp. 197—211.

18. Julie will refer much later to 'ce même bosquet où commencèrent tous les malheurs de ma vie' (IV. 12; p. 489); 'dès lors mon cœur fut corrompu' (III. 18; p. 342).

19. Citing similar expressions in Prévost and Bibiena of a maie 'volupté à "respirer le même air" [près de] l'objet aimé', Christophe Martin identifies here a 'situation clairement pré œdipienne [...], une sorte de dilatation bienheureuse à l'intérieur d'un lieu conçu comme expansion du corps féminin, où le fantasme du retour au sein maternel semble assez évident'. Espaces du féminin, p. 403.

20. My reading here develops the persuasive account offered in Tony Tanner, Adultery in the Novel, pp. 123—31. See too on this scene Peggy Kamuf, Fictions of Feminine Desire (Lincoln: Nebraska University Press, 1982), pp. 107—13.

21. 'Il me maltraita sans ménagagement, quoique ma mère se fût jetée entre deux, m'eût couverte de son corps, et eût reçu quelques-uns des coups qui m'étaient portés' (pp. 174—75). The mother protects the child against the violence of the father — repeating as a real event the imaginary scenario evoked in Julie's rendezvous letter.

22. It is surely significant that during all the time he is within the house of Julie's father, the Tutor seemingly never meets him. We know that during his first sojourn her father was absent (as I.13 confirms) — though he himself is curiously evasive on the matter ('cet heureux père que je connais à peine' [my emphasis]: I.21; p. 73). Throughout his second stay in Vevey (the latter half of Part I) the Baron is there, but we are never shown the two together. Such in Rousseau's imaginaire is the dominance of the father over his own avowed surrogate.

23. It is given moral colouring by the insistence that if he seeks success, it is only to satisfy his sponsors. He does it for Julie ('la carrière où je vais m'essayer pour te complaire': II. 12; p. 227), or — in her account — for Edouard ('fais pour lui ce que tu ne ferais pas pour toi': II.11; p. 221).

24. This ambivalence is brought out in Laurence Mall, 'L'Intérieur et l'Extérieur: Etude des lettres parisiennes dans La Nouvelle Héloïse', in Lectures de 'La Nouvelle Héloïse', ed. by Ourida Mostefai (Ottawa: Association nord-américaine des études Jean-Jacques Rousseau, 1993), pp. 163—73.

25. The opposition is nicely explored in ch. 5 ('Paris') of Christie McDonald Vance, The Extravagant Shepherd: A Study of the Pastoral Vision in Rousseau's 'La Nouvelle Héloïse', Studies on Voltaire and the Eighteenth Century, 105 (Banbury: Voltaire Foundation, 1973).

26. Vocal performance at the Opera is characterized as 'les cris affreux, les longs mugissements dont retentit le théâtre durant la représentation' (II.23; p. 285). In Paris 'j'entends une femme de la cour parler de modestie, un grand seigneur de vertu, un auteur de simplicité, un abbé de religion, et [...] ces absurdités ne choquent personne' (II. 16, p. 241).

27. On Rousseau's account of French high society in relation to those by other writers (notably Béat de Muralt and Duelos), see the annotations of Daniel Mornet in his classic edition of La Nouvelle Héloïse, 4 vols (Paris: Hachette, 1925).

28. Rousseau avows his own ambivalence notably in the Confessions, pp. 182—83 ('je sentais en dépit de moi-même une prédilection secrète pour cette même nation [...]'). In the novel, autocritique is routed as usual through Julie, who admirably characterizes the Tutor's disposition as that of 'un enfant qui se dépite contre ses maîtres' (II.18; p. 258).

29. It is indicated at the end of the sequence that there were also letters on political matters, but addressed to Edouard rather than to Julie and Claire (I.27; p. 305). This gendering heralds the new sexual politics, though it may also reflect (like the exclusion from the main narrative of Edouard's Roman adventure) an aesthetic choice.

30. He rejects the idea that Julie could ever be 'la femme d'un parvenu' (II. 19; p. 263).

31. On this 'false need', probably the best overall account is still Joel Schwarz, The Sexual Politics of Jean-Jacques Rousseau (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1984). Schwarz shows how for Rousseau the sexual and the social are fundamentally linked, and fundamentally feared, because they put an end to self-completeness.

32. The moral status of this act is nevertheless left unclear. Julie asks him to release her; but she writes under coercion from her father (who adds a note threatening their lives). The Tutor immediately complies; but Julie later says that she had hoped he would not be so punctilious, though she knew that he would be, and she never doubted his 'obéissance' (III. 11 and 18; pp. 327, 350)!

33. The environs of Clarens include 'la vaste plaine d'eau qui s'offre à mes yeux' (IV. 10; p. 441). Julie is drawn to the lake, while Wolmar is not, as Claire will pointedly note: 'Tu aimes les promenades en bateau; tu t'en prives pour ton mari qui craint l'eau' (IV.13; p. 504). On water as a symbol of the feminine and maternal, see Monique Anne Gyalokay, Rousseau, Northrop Frye et la Bible (Paris: Champion, 1999), ch. 3. The centrality in this novel of the lake, as 'matrice' and mirror of all, is admirably sketched in Michel Butor, 'L'Ile au bout du monde', in Répertoires, 111 (Paris: Minuit, 1968), pp. 59—101 (pp. 79—80).

34. Wolmar we are told is from 'une cour du Nord' (his name may be a corruption of something like Waldemar or Vladimir), but he has recently lost his estates: III. 18; pp. 343, 349. This makes him an exile in need of a home (like the Tutor), and provides a motivation for settling him on his wife's domain. Edouard too came to Vevey in the first half of the novel and will come to Clarens in the second (like the Tutor). Thus all three men are received into Julie's household.

35. 'The dwelling-house was a substitute for the mother's womb, the first lodging, for which in all likelihood man still longs, and in which he was safe and felt at ease': Freud, Civilization and its Discontents (PFL XII, p. 279).

36. In the hamlets of the Haut-Valais, according to the Tutor, 'chacun venait avec tant d'empressement m'offrir sa maison', yet 'ce qui me paraissait le plus agréable dans leur accueil, c'était de n'y pas trouver le moindre vestige de gêne' (I.23; pp. 79—80).

37. We saw how he was accused by Julie of sentiments which would 'troubler les premiers plaisirs d'une famille réunie' (I.20; p. 72). Claire spoke of 'une famille infortunée dont vous seul troublez le repos' (III. 1; p. 307).

38. Claire to the Tutor: 'J'ai promis en votre nom tout ce que vous devez tenir: osez me démentir si j'ai trop présumé de vous' (III. 1; p. 309).

39. These are 'isolation, self-sufficiency, utility, self-perpetuation, [...] absolute harmony and the rigorously embedded order', in the view of James F. Jones, 'La Nouvelle Héloïse': Rousseau and Utopia (Geneva: Droz, 1977), p. 61. Jones' careful study also shows how most of the same characteristics appear in small societies sketched earlier in the novel, notably that of the Haut-Valais (pp. 30—34). These societies however are organic and 'given', thus closer to Arcadias, whereas Clarens is elaborately 'made'.

40. Jean-Michel Racault, L'Utopie narrative, Part V, section c. My own section-heading, 'La Petite Communauté', borrows the phrase used twice in V.10 by Claire.

41. In this account of further retreats one notes the almost hysteric reiteration of absolutes: 'point', 'jamais', 'inviolable'; and 'tellement caché', 'nulle part', 'toujours soigneusement fermé à la clé' (no doubt, as stated in the former case, to assure 'liberté').

42. A useful recent conspectus is provided by Christophe Martin in the course of his own analysis: Espaces du féminin, pp. 166—73.

43. 'Si l'on perd quelque chose [...], on le regagne bien' (p. 443), reports Saint-Preux, anticipating Wolmar: 'je regagne' (p. 455), 'en dépensant davantage, je ne laisse pas de gagner encore' (p. 549)·

44. Claire will again be part of the loving circle around him, for Claire's husband has been conveniently killed off — much as Céline's husband was shed so that she could devote herself to Ζilia. Even when alive, M. d'Orbe like Céline's husband was revealed to be of an inferior sensibility, in his case by snoring through a performance of Italian music (I.47; p. 130).

45. Once more Saint-Preux's presence has curiously coincided with the Baron's absence. Though resident at Clarens, Julie's father left just before Saint-Preux's return (IV. 1; p. 402), and he has remained absent right up till now. This exclusion presumably serves to mark off the new regime of Wolmar. But in V.7 Sa int-Preux tells us that he has passed Wolmar's second 'épreuve' by showing no resentment towards the Baron, whom he respects as if he were his son and who shoots better than him (pp. 605—06)! Apart from the modernization of the phallic symbol (the gun replacing the 'épée' of I.53), the dominance of the primitive father seems little changed.

46. There is no clear reason why the proposed Roman marriage should be rejected. Saint-Preux can only say that for Edouard it would be 'une alliance indigne et déshonnête' (V.12; p. 624); Claire says that Laure in decent society would be embarrassed by her past (VI.2; p. 639). The perfect pharisaism of their attitude to the fallen but regenerated Laure is made evident by Julie's reflection: 'Qui doit plus l'admirer que moi ...?' (V.13; p. 627).

47. 'Nous ne serons plus entre nous que des sœurs et des frères; vous ne serez plus votre propre ennemi ni le nôtre' (VI.6; p. 671). The habituai assimilation of sexual love to sibling or family love is particularly odd in this context.

48. In the anti-Papal Calvinist tradition inherited by Saint-Preux and his creator, Rome was identified with 'Babylon the Great, the Mother of Harlots', the enslaver of the faithful (Revelations 17. 5).

49. Even in this fantasy of action, he imagines not holding Julie but being held by her.

50. Saint-Preux's language and rhetoric are closely anticipated: 'Hélas! que cette illusion est passagère'; 'L'illusion me quitte, l'affreuse vérité prend sa place' (Péruvienne, LL. 7, 17).

51. Déterville declares Ζ ilia to be 'l'objet que mon imagination m'avait souvent composé.' (L. 23). Julie tells Saint-Preux 'Je crus voir [...] dans vous [...] ce que je croyais sentir en moi-même' (p· 340).

52. Zilia speaks of'[s]e laissant traîner à l'illusion' when hearing of a better social order, 'comme si j'eusse dû, à la fin du récit, me trouver au milieu de nos chers citoyens' (Péruvienne, L. 29). Saint-Preux said he was 'heureux dans mes chimères' when imagining himself and Julie integrated into the community of the Haut-Valais (1.23).

53. Paola Sosso, Jean-Jacque s Rousseau: Imagination, illusions, chimères (Paris: Champion, 1999), ch. 3, treats these topics in the novel. Valuable still are the sections on imagination in Paul Burgelin, La Philosophie de l'existence de J.-J. Rousseau (Paris: PUF, 1952), pp. 168—90, and the more poetic exploration by Marc Eigeidinger, Jean-Jacques Rousseau et la réalité de l'imaginaire (Neuchâtel: La Baconnière, 1962).

54. Zilia's story too was a series of hopes dashed. But in Rousseau their significance is taken far beyond naïve pathos to become a constant desire for the ideal, or what has been nicely called 'un platonisme du cœur' (Burgelin, p. 173).

55. As Sartre admirably puts it, 'l'acte d'imagination [...] est un acte magique. C'est une incantation destinée à faire apparaître l'objet auquel on pense, la chose qu'on désire, de façon qu'on puisse en prendre possession. Il y a, dans cet acte, toujours quelque chose d'impérieux et d'enfantin.' (Quoted in Eigeldinger, p. 11.)

56. We should note that, conversely, Parisian theatre and opera are each criticized by Saint-Preux for their failure to offer the spectator 'l'illusion' (my emphasis; pp. 254, 288).

57. In the excellent formulation of Judith Shklar, for Rousseau 'utopias were genuine portraits of the human heart': Men and Citizens: A Study of Rousseau's Social Theory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), p. 8.

58. 'Non la conobbe il mondo [...] Conobill'io [the world did not know her [...] I knew her] says the work's epigraph.

59. Laure too will announce to Edouard her renunciation of him (to become a Bride of Christ) by letter, and we are also given its text (pp. 652—53, within VI.3).

60. We may note too the link in the work's extended title: 'Lettres de deux amants [...]'. The formula is curiously revealing, given that there are actually six or eight letter-writers, and the 'two' cease to be lovers halfway through.

61. Combined in Saint-Preux's primary act are two fundamental traits of his creator, both admirably elucidated by Starobinski. On the one hand there is the retreat from presence in order to represent oneself in writing — identified by Rousseau himself as 'le parti que j'ai pris d'écrire et de me cacher' (Confessions, p. 116). On the other (proceeding from the first, despite apparent contradiction) is the fantasy of a kind of epiphanic power. 'Jean-Jacques croit qu'il lui suffit de "s'exposer" pour exercer une fascination autour de lui. [...] Il s'agit bien d'atteindre les autres, mais sans se quitter soi-même, en se contentant d'être soi et de se montrer tel qu'on est' (Starobinski, La Transparence, pp. 152—53, 207—08).

62. All the letters between them are editorially headed either 'A Julie' or 'De Julie' (or occasionally just 'Réponse') in Parts I—III. At Clarens she is 'Mad^e de Wolmar' in all letter-headings, including those when she resumes writing to Saint-Preux (VI.6, 8); but her last letter in which she tells him that she loves him Rousseau heads once more 'De Julie'.

63. Saint-Preux will give a very similar account of how 'à force d'importunités' he gained access to the nursery at Clarens, where dairy products served by Julie provide him with 'un goûter délicieux' (p. 452). The imperative seems to be oral incorporation of some intimate element of the beloved. Its most extreme manifestation is his behaviour in the episode known as 'l'inoculation de l'amour' (III. 13—14).

64. Again we have repetition. Here is Saint-Preux's first account of physically receiving a letter from Julie. 'Tu me rends en secret ta lettre queje n'ose lire devant ce redoutable témoin; le soleil commence à baisser, nous fuyons tous trois dans le bois le reste de ses rayons' (I.14; p. 64). The regressive imperative is rendered here by the triple flight (Julie, Saint-Preux and cousin Claire) from the inspecting eye (Mme d'Etange, doubled by the sun) into the woods. We may recall in the Péruvienne another childlike threesome (Zilia, Déterville and sister Céline) who retreat from the gaze of Déterville's disapproving mother to commune in Zilia's room (L.15).

65. It is implied that other authors too should be disqualified. Saint-Preux says 'je voudrais qu'alors la composition de ces sortes de livres [les romans] ne fût permise qu'à des gens honnêtes mais sensibles dont le cœur se peignît dans leurs écrits' (II.21; p. 277). Just what that might mean is indicated when Edouard declares to him: 'je suis sans livres; mais je lis vos lettres' (V.4; p. 587). Should we need more?

66. Saint-Preux's 'tons' seem to have the same sense as Zilia's 'sons', designating the expressive dimension of the singing voice. Again we see how ideas sketched in Graffigny are richly developed in Rousseau.

67. Julie in her reply attributes her own taste for this music to 'celui que mon frère m'avait donné pour la poésie italienne' (I.52; p. 143) — linking the two Italian forms while reaffirming the tie with her brother.

68. For a close rhetorical study, see Part II, chs 4—6, of Jean-Louis Lecercle, Rousseau et l'art du roman (Paris: Colin, 1969).

69. These patterns were established by searching the text in the electronic database <gallica.bnf. fr> (which reproduces the Classiques Gamier text, ed. by René Pomeau), and consulting the (selective) Index-concordance de Julie, ou La Nouvelle Héloïse', ed. by Gilbert Fauconnier, 2 vols (Geneva: Slatkine, 1991).

70. The shift towards the literal also appears in the occurences of 'soif', and of the verbs 'inonder', 'nager' and 'essuyer'.

71. Flow in this novel is attributed to 'le feu dans mes veines', tears, blood, time, sentiments, humanity, language, music and — in the 'Elysée' — water. By my count, 'couler' in various forms occurs 27 times, and 'écouler' (always 'le temps' or 'mes jours') eleven times. 'Couler' is also used twice in the Second Preface.

72. Lecercle demonstrates the prevalence of binary and ternary structures and a 'rythme très ample' at the levels of the clause, the sentence and the paragraph: op. cit., §5-D 'Le Mouvement oratoire', and §6.C 'Le Rythme poétique'.

73. Rousseau adds a footnote to one of Julie's letters, affirming that its author 'avait l'oreille trop délicate pour s'asservir toujours aux règles [...]. On peut employer un style plus pur, mais non pas plus doux et plus harmonieux que le sien' (p. 693). Indicated is not only the option for euphony over 'rules', but the assumption that this writing is also to be heard.

74. See the commentaries of Bernard Guyon (OC 11) on Rousseau's 'composition musicale': for example p. 1381 on the second section of Part I, pp. 1632—33 on IV. 17.

75. This rallentando is reflected at the simplest formal level. The number of letters in each Part from I to VI decreases progressively (or regressively) — from 65 in the first to 13 in the last. In the first half the longest letter occurs near its end (III.18); the second half includes the sequence of lengthy accounts of Clarens in IV and V, and ends soon after the longest letter in the work (VI.11).

Chapter 2
Julie, ou La Nouvelle Héloïse

Origins; Family

Fall, Expulsion, Retreat

French Society

Love versus Marriage

'La Petite Communauté'

Naïvety, Refuge, Illusion

Writing, and the Body

Notes to Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Julie, ou La Nouvelle Héloïse

Origins; Family

Fall, Expulsion, Retreat

French Society

Love versus Marriage

'La Petite Communauté'

Naïvety, Refuge, Illusion

Writing, and the Body

Notes to Chapter 2

Chapter 2
Julie, ou La Nouvelle Héloïse