Brisson. He made a figure
in Paris, where he still perhaps distinguishes himself by his pleasing
talents and wit. He came once to Montmorency, the winter which
preceded my catastrophe. I was pleased with his vivacity. He
afterwards wrote to me at Motiers, and whether he wished to flatter
me, or that his head was turned with Emile, he informed me he was
about to quit the service to live independently, and had begun to
learn the trade of a carpenter. He had an elder brother, a captain
in the same regiment, the favorite of the mother, who, a devotee to
excess, and directed by I know not what hypocrite, did not treat the
youngest son well, accusing him of irreligion, and what was still
worse, of the unpardonable crime of being connected with me. These
were the grievances, on account of which he was determined to break
with his mother, and adopt the manner of life of which I have just
spoken, all to play the part of the young Emile. Alarmed at this
petulance, I immediately wrote to him, endeavoring to make him
change his resolution, and my exhortations were as strong as I could
make them. They had their effect. He returned to his duty, to his
mother, and took back the resignation he had given to the colonel, who
had been prudent enough to make no use of it, that the young man might
have time to reflect upon what he had done. St. Brisson, cured of
these follies, was guilty of another less alarming, but, to me, not
less disagreeable than the rest: he became an author.
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