Pierre, and my residence there was so agreeable to me that, byconcentrating all my desires within it, I formed the wish that I mightstay there to the end of my life.The visits I had to return in theneighborhood, the journeys I should be under the necessity of makingto Neuchatel, Bienne, Yverdon, and Nidau, already fatigued myimagination.A day passed out of the island seemed to me a loss ofso much happiness, and to go beyond the bounds of the lake was to goout of my element.Past experience had besides rendered meapprehensive.The very satisfaction that I received from anythingwhatever was sufficient to make me fear the loss of it, and the ardentdesire I had to end my days in that island, was inseparable from theapprehension of being obliged to leave it.I had contracted a habit ofgoing in the evening to sit upon the sandy shore, especially whenthe lake was agitated.I felt a singular pleasure in seeing thewaves break at my feet.I formed of them in my imagination the imageof the tumult of the world contrasted with the peace of my habitation;and this pleasing idea sometimes softened me even to tears.The reposeI enjoyed with ecstasy was disturbed by nothing but the fear ofbeing deprived of it, but this inquietude was accompanied with somebitterness.I felt my situation so precarious as not to dare to dependupon its continuance."Ah! how willingly," said I to myself, "wouldI renounce the liberty of quitting this place, for which I have nodesire, for the assurance of always remaining in it.Instead ofbeing permitted to stay here by favor, why am I not detained by force!
They who suffer me to remain may in a moment drive me away, and canI hope my persecutors, seeing me happy, will leave me here to continueto be so? Permitting me to live in the island is but a trifling favor.
I could wish to be condemned to do it, and constrained to remainhere that I may not be obliged to go elsewhere." I cast an envious eyeupon Micheli du Cret, who, quiet in the castle of Arbourg, had only todetermine to be happy to become so.In fine, by abandoning myself tothese reflections, and the alarming apprehensions of new storms alwaysready to break over my head, I wished for them with an incredibleardor, and that instead of suffering me to reside in the island, theBernois would give it me for a perpetual prison: and I can assert thathad it depended upon me to get myself condemned to this, I wouldmost joyfully have done it, preferring a thousand times thenecessity of passing my life there to the danger of being driven toanother place.
This fear did not long remain on my mind.When I least expected whatwas to happen, I received a letter from the bailiff of Nidau, withinwhose jurisdiction the island of St.Peter was; by his letter heannounced to me from their excellencies an order to quit the islandand their states.I thought myself in a dream.Nothing could be lessnatural, reasonable, or foreseen than such an order: for I hadconsidered my apprehensions as the result of inquietude in a man whoseimagination was disturbed by his misfortunes, and not to proceedfrom a foresight which could have the least foundation.The measures Ihad taken to insure myself the tacit consent of the sovereign, thetranquillity with which I had been left to make my establishment,the visits of several people from Berne, and that of the bailiffhimself, who had shown me such friendship and attention, and the rigorof the season in which it was barbarous to expel a man who wassickly and infirm, all these circumstances made me and many peoplebelieve that there was some mistake in the order, and thatill-disposed people had purposely chosen the time of the vintage andthe vacation of the senate suddenly to do me an injury.
Had I yielded to the first impulse of my indignation, I shouldimmediately have departed.But to what place was I to go? What wasto become of me at the beginning of the winter, without object,preparation, guide, or carriage? Not to leave my papers and effects atthe mercy of the first comer, time was necessary to make properarrangements, and it was not stated in the order whether or not thiswould be granted me.The continuance of misfortune began to weigh downmy courage.For the first time in my life I felt my naturalhaughtiness stoop to the yoke of necessity, and, notwithstanding themurmurs of my heart, I was obliged to demean myself by asking for adelay.I applied to M.de Graffenried, who had sent me the order,for an explanation of it.His letter, conceived in the strongest termsof disapprobation of the step that had been taken, assured me it waswith the greatest regret he communicated to me the nature of it, andthe expressions of grief and esteem it contained seemed so many gentleinvitations to open to him my heart: I did so.I had no doubt but myletter would open the eyes of my persecutors, and that if so cruelan order was not revoked, at least a reasonable delay, perhaps thewhole winter, to make the necessary preparations for my retreat, andto choose a place of abode, would be granted me.
