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August 27, 2006
REVIEWS: Confessions of a genius
Aitrafat: Jean-Jacques Rousseau Ki Aap-Beeti
Translated into Urdu by Amjad Ali Bhatti
680pp. Rs600
Reprinted by, and available with, Book Home,
Book Street, 46, Muzang Road, Lahore.
Tel: 042-7231518, 7245072.
Email: bookhome1@hotmail.com
ONE of the most original and influential thinkers during the 18th century Enlightenment period and in many ways the spiritual head of the French Revolution, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, is better known for his Social Contract theory than for much else. And, of course, that is understandable for the strength of his theorisations has stood the test of time in the realm of political philosophy. The book in hand is a biographical account of that great life, but, rest assured, this is an autobiography with a difference, howsoever cliched that may sound.
Born to Isaac Rousseau and Suzanne Bernard on June 28, 1712, Rousseau had a troubled childhood for one reason or the other. And though he did have a lot of good times in his life, somehow the troubles never quite left him on his own. During the productive years of his life, he had to repeatedly run for shelter — from France to Switzerland to Berlin to England before finally returning to the southeast of France in disguise in 1767.
After spending three years there, Rousseau returned to Paris in 1770 and copied music for a living.
For such an adventurous life, Rousseau’s Confessions, which he wrote during his stay in Switzerland, makes for interesting reading. But, surprisingly, it leaves the reader a little mystified by the lack of focus in the narration. While he does deal with the various conflicts that he had in academic circles with other thinkers like Diderot and Voltaire, with Parisian and Swiss authorities and even with David Hume, but such affairs get overshadowed by happenings in his personal life of which there is a whole lot more. Since the book ends somewhat abruptly at the point of his departure from Paris to Berlin, maybe he thought of taking up the matter some other time. But in the context of Confessions, the reader might feel a bit of discontent.
The only difference between what Shahjehan did and what was done by Babar was the fact that the latter at least had no quarrel with his father, while the former had
The book opens rather grandly, “I have begun on a work which is without precedent, whose accomplishment will have no imitator. I propose to set before my fellow-mortals a man in all the truth of nature; and this man shall be myself. I have studied mankind and know my heart; I am not made like any one I have been acquainted with, perhaps like no one in existence; if not better, I at least claim originality, and whether Nature has acted rightly or wrongly in destroying the mould in which she cast me, can only be decided after I have been read.” But midway through the text, one starts wondering if the happenings are really worth such a grandiose description.
For instance, the pages are full of his indiscretions of the amorous type and his distaste for women of low life. “Seamstresses, chambermaids, or milliners, never tempted me; I sighed for the ladies! Every one has his peculiar taste, this has ever been mine ... Yet it is not vanity of riches or rank that attracts me; it is a well-preserved complexion, fine hands, elegance of ornaments, an air of delicacy and neatness throughout the whole person: more in taste, in the manner of expressing themselves, a finer or better made gown, a well-turned ankle, small foot, ribbons, lace, and well-dressed hair: I even prefer those who have less natural beauty, provided they are elegantly decorated. I freely confess this preference is very ridiculous; yet my heart gives in to it in spite of my understanding," he says in Book IV, but that, for sure, is not the only mention of his preferences.
“If there be a circumstance in my life, which describes my nature, it is that which I am going to relate … Whoever you may be who are desirous of knowing a man, have the courage to read the two or three following pages, and you will become fully acquainted with J.J. Rousseau.” But what follows is yet another narration of his intimate interactions. But, to his credit, this one is rather interesting. At the height of that passionate encounter, Rousseau noted a slight physical imperfection in Zulietta, and could not resist talking about it. “I carried my stupidity so far as to speak to her of the discovery I had made. She, at first, took what I said jocosely … But perceiving an inquietude I could not conceal she at length reddened, adjusted her dress, raised herself up, and … said to me in a reserved and disdainful tone of voice, ‘Leave women, and study the mathematics’!”
This is not an isolated happening in the book. Time and again the reader, alerted by the writer, sits up to take notice, only to wonder what was the alert about. Rousseau has been faithful to his assertion that he has “concealed no crimes, added no virtues”, but, from the reader’s point of view, he might have done better had he exercised certain level of discretion.
However, the book is easy on the mind and does portray the life of a troubled genius who had to pay a certain cost for his political and religious beliefs.
Tuzak-i-BabriTranslated into Urdu by Rasheed Akhtar Nadvi
ISBN 969-35-0319-8
287pp. Rs225
Shahjahan-namaBy Mulla Saleh Ahmad Kamboh
Abridged by Mumtaz Liaquat
ISBN 969-35-0856-4
600pp. Rs500.
Reprinted by, and available at, Sang-e-Meel Publications, Lahore.
25, Shahrah-e-Pakistan (Lower Mall). PO Box 997, Lahore.
Tel: 042-7220100; 7228143.
Fax: 042-7245101
Email: smp@sang-e-meel.com
AS described by Zaheeruddin Babar himself, when his father Umar Shaikh died, the first thing that came to his mind was to rush back to the fort in Kabul and ensure that he, and not someone else, got the throne. Looking back, it was this act of his that in a way set the tone for what was to happen in the next about three centuries among his progenies. From Babar to Bahadur Shah, it is an amazing tale of power struggle between fathers and sons, among brothers, and, indeed, between any two souls who mattered.
When Jahangir died in the wake of a power tussle between his sons, Shahjehan, who was camped at Deccan at the time, rushed back to Agra to get hold of the crown. The only difference between what Shahjehan did and what was done by Babar was the fact that the latter at least had no quarrel with his father, while the former had, in fact, come face to face in an armed struggle with his father over the matter of succession. Read together, the two books bring out the Mughal streak in its original, brutal form. Go for it.
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