The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, entire
Jean Jacques Rousseau

Part 5 out of 13

would death have been at that time, when, if I had not tasted many of the
pleasures of life, I had felt but few of its misfortunes. My tranquil
soul would have taken her flight, without having experienced those cruel
ideas of the injustice of mankind which embitters both life and death.
I should have enjoyed the sweet consolation that I still survived in the
dearer part of myself: in the situation I then was, it could hardly be
called death; and had I been divested of my uneasiness on her account,
it would have appeared but a gentle sleep; yet even these disquietudes
had such an affectionate and tender turn, that their bitterness was
tempered by a pleasing sensibility. I said to her, "You are the
depository of my whole being, act so that I may be happy." Two or three
times, when my disorder was most violent, I crept to her apartment to
give her my advice respecting her future conduct; and I dare affirm these
admonitions were both wise and equitable, in which the interest I took in
her future concerns was strongly marked. As if tears had been both
nourishment and medicine, I found myself the better for those I shed with
her, while seated on her bed-side, and holding her hands between mine.
The hours crept insensibly away in these nocturnal discourses; I returned
to my chamber better than I had quitted it, being content and calmed by
the promises she made, and the hopes with which she had inspired me:
I slept on them with my heart at peace, and fully resigned to the
dispensations of Providence. God grant, that after having had so many
reasons to hate life, after being agitated with so many storms, after it
has even become a burden, that death, which must terminate all, may be no
more terrible than it would have been at that moment!

By inconceivable care and vigilance, she saved my life; and I am
convinced she alone could have done this. I have little faith in the
skill of physicians, but depend greatly on the assistance of real
friends, and am persuaded that being easy in those particulars on which
our happiness depends, is more salutary than any other application. If
there is a sensation in life peculiarly delightful, we experienced it in
being restored to each other; our mutual attachment did not increase, for
that was impossible, but it became, I know not how, more exquisitely
tender, fresh softness being added to its former simplicity. I became in
a manner her work; we got into the habit, though without design, of being
continually with each other, and enjoying, in some measure, our whole
existence together, feeling reciprocally that we were not only necessary,
but entirely sufficient for each other's happiness. Accustomed to think
of no subject foreign to ourselves, our happiness and all our desires
were confined to that pleasing and singular union, which, perhaps, had no
equal, which is not, as I have before observed, love, but a sentiment
inexpressibly more intimate, neither depending on the senses, age, nor
figure, but an assemblage of every endearing sensation that composes our
rational existence and which can cease only with our being.

How was it that this delightful crisis did not secure our mutual felicity
for the remainder of her life and mine? I have the consoling conviction
that it was not my fault; nay, I am persuaded, she did not wilfully
destroy it; the invincible peculiarity of my disposition was doomed soon
to regain its empire; but this fatal return was not suddenly
accomplished, there was, thank Heaven, a short but precious interval,
that did not conclude by my fault, and which I cannot reproach myself
with having employed amiss.

Though recovered from my dangerous illness, I did not regain my strength;
my stomach was weak, some remains of the fever kept me in a languishing
condition, and the only inclination I was sensible of, was to end my days
near one so truly dear to me; to confirm her in those good resolutions
she had formed; to convince her in what consisted the real charms of a
happy life, and, as far as depended on me, to render hers so; but I
foresaw that in a gloomy, melancholy house, the continual solitude of our
tete-a-tetes would at length become too dull and monotonous: a remedy
presented itself: Madam de Warrens had prescribed milk for me, and
insisted that I should take it in the country; I consented, provided she
would accompany me; nothing more was necessary to gain her compliance,
and whither we should go was all that remained to be determined on. Our
garden (which I have before mentioned) was not properly in the country,
being surrounded by houses and other gardens, and possessing none of
those attractions so desirable in a rural retreat; besides, after the
death of Anet, we had given up this place from economical principles,
feeling no longer a desire to rear plants, and other views making us not
regret the loss of that little retreat. Improving the distaste I found
she began to imbibe for the town, I proposed to abandon it entirely, and
settle ourselves in an agreeable solitude, in some small house, distant
enough from the city to avoid the perpetual intrusion of her hangers-on.
She followed my advice, and this plan, which her good angel and mine
suggested, might fully have secured our happiness and tranquility till
death had divided us--but this was not the state we were appointed to;
Madam de Warrens was destined to endure all the sorrows of indigence and
poverty, after having passed the former part of her life in abundance,
that she might learn to quit it with the less regret; and myself, by an
assemblage of misfortunes of all kinds, was to become a striking example
to those who, inspired with a love of justice and the public good, and
trusting too implicitly to their own innocence, shall openly dare to
assert truth to mankind, unsupported by cabals, or without having
previously formed parties to protect them.

An unhappy fear furnished some objections to our plan: she did not dare
to quit her ill-contrived house, for fear of displeasing the proprietor.
"Your proposed retirement is charming," said she, "and much to my taste,
but we are necessitated to remain here, for, on quitting this dungeon,
I hazard losing the very means of life, and when these fail us in the
woods, we must again return to seek them in the city. That we may have
the least possible cause for being reduced to this necessity, let us not
leave this house entirely, but pay a small pension to the Count of Saint-
-Laurent, that he may continue mine. Let us seek some little habitation,
far enough from the town to be at peace, yet near enough to return when
it may appear convenient."

This mode was finally adopted; and after some small search, we fixed at
Charmettes, on an estate belonging to M. de Conzie, at a very small
distance from Chambery; but as retired and solitary as if it had been a
hundred leagues off. The spot we had concluded on was a valley between
two tolerably high hills, which ran north and south; at the bottom, among
the trees and pebbles, ran a rivulet, and above the declivity, on either
side, were scattered a number of houses, forming altogether a beautiful
retreat for those who love a peaceful romantic asylum. After having
examined two or three of these houses, we chose that which we thought the
most pleasing, which was the property of a gentleman of the army, called
M. Noiret. This house was in good condition, before it a garden, forming
a terrace; below that on the declivity an orchard, and on the ascent,
behind the house, a vineyard: a little wood of chestnut trees opposite; a
fountain just by, and higher up the hill, meadows for the cattle; in
short, all that could be thought necessary for the country retirement we
proposed to establish. To the best of my remembrance, we took possession
of it toward the latter end of the summer Of 1736. I was delighted on
going to sleep there--"Oh!" said I, to this dear friend, embracing her
with tears of tenderness and delight, "this is the abode of happiness and
innocence; if we do not find them here together it will be in vain to
seek them elsewhere."


Adopted the jargon of books, than the knowledge they contained
Dying for love without an object
Have the pleasure of seeing an ass ride on horseback
Idleness is as much the pest of society as of solitude
If you have nothing to do, you must absolutely speak continually
In a nation of blind men, those with one eye are kings
Injustice of mankind which embitters both life and death
Not so easy to quit her house as to enter it
Sin consisted only in the scandal
Trusting too implicitly to their own innocence
Voltaire was formed never to be (happy)
When everyone is busy, you may continue silent
Whose discourses began by a distribution of millions

(In 12 books)

Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society

London, 1903


Hoc erat in votis: Modus agri non ila magnus
Hortus ubi, et leclo vicinus aqua fons;
Et paululum sylvae superhis forel.

I cannot add, 'auctius acque di melius fecere'; but no matter, the former
is enough for my purpose; I had no occasion to have any property there,
it was sufficient that I enjoyed it; for I have long since both said and
felt, that the proprietor and possessor are two very different people,
even leaving husbands and lovers out of the question.

At this moment began the short happiness of my life, those peaceful and
rapid moments, which have given me a right to say, I have lived.
Precious and ever--regretted moments! Ah! recommence your delightful
course; pass more slowly through my memory, if possible, than you
actually did in your fugitive succession. How shall I prolong, according
to my inclination, this recital at once so pleasing and simple? How
shall I continue to relate the same occurrences, without wearying my
readers with the repetition, any more than I was satiated with the
enjoyment? Again, if all this consisted of facts, actions, or words, I
could somehow or other convey an idea of it; but how shall I describe
what was neither said nor done, nor even thought, but enjoyed, felt,
without being able to particularize any other object of my happiness than
the bare idea? I rose with the sun, and was happy; I walked, and was
happy; I saw Madam de Warrens, and was happy; I quitted her, and still
was happy!--Whether I rambled through the woods, over the hills, or
strolled along the valley; read, was idle, worked in the garden, or
gathered fruits, happiness continually accompanied me; it was fixed on no
particular object, it was within me, nor could I depart from it a single

Nothing that passed during that charming epocha, nothing that I did,
said, or thought, has escaped my memory. The time that preceded or
followed it, I only recollect by intervals, unequally and confused; but
here I remember all as distinctly as if it existed at this moment.
Imagination, which in my youth was perpetually anticipating the future,
but now takes a retrograde course, makes some amends by these charming
recollections for the deprivation of hope, which I have lost forever.
I no longer see anything in the future that can tempt my wishes, it is a
recollection of the past alone that can flatter me, and the remembrance
of the period I am now describing is so true and lively, that it
sometimes makes me happy, even in spite of my misfortunes.

Of these recollections I shall relate one example, which may give some
idea of their force and precision. The first day we went to sleep at
Charmettes, the way being up-hill, and Madam de Warrens rather heavy, she
was carried in a chair, while I followed on foot. Fearing the chairmen
would be fatigued, she got out about half-way, designing to walk the rest
of it. As we passed along, she saw something blue in the hedge, and
said, "There's some periwinkle in flower yet!" I had never seen any
before, nor did I stop to examine this: my sight is too short to
distinguish plants on the ground, and I only cast a look at this as I
passed: an interval of near thirty years had elapsed before I saw any
more periwinkle, at least before I observed it, when being at Cressier in
1764, with my friend, M. du Peyrou, we went up a small mountain, on the
summit of which there is a level spot, called, with reason, 'Belle--vue',
I was then beginning to herbalize;--walking and looking among the bushes,
I exclaimed with rapture, "Ah, there's some periwinkle!" Du Peyrou, who
perceived my transport, was ignorant of the cause, but will some day be
informed: I hope, on reading this. The reader may judge by this
impression, made by so small an incident, what an effect must have been
produced by every occurrence of that time.

Meantime, the air of the country did not restore my health; I was
languishing and became more so; I could not endure milk, and was obliged
to discontinue the use of it. Water was at this time the fashionable
remedy for every complaint; accordingly I entered on a course of it, and
so indiscreetly, that it almost released me, not only from my illness but
also from my life. The water I drank was rather hard and difficult to
pass, as water from mountains generally is; in short, I managed so well,
that in the coarse of two months I totally ruined my stomach, which until
that time had been very good, and no longer digesting anything properly,
had no reason to expect a cure. At this time an accident happened, as
singular in itself as in its subsequent consequences, which can only
terminate with my existence.

One morning, being no worse than usual, while putting up the leaf of a
small table, I felt a sudden and almost inconceivable revolution
throughout my whole frame. I know not how to describe it better than as
a kind of tempest, which suddenly rose in my blood, and spread in a
moment over every part of my body. My arteries began beating so
violently that I not only felt their motion, but even heard it,
particularly that of the carotids, attended by a loud noise in my ears,
which was of three, or rather four, distinct kinds. For instance, first
a grave hollow buzzing; then a more distinct murmur, like the running of
water; then an extremely sharp hissing, attended by the beating I before
mentioned, and whose throbs I could easily count, without feeling my
pulse, or putting a hand to any part of my body. This internal tumult
was so violent that it has injured my auricular organs, and rendered me,
from that time, not entirely deaf, but hard of hearing.

My surprise and fear may easily be conceived; imagining it was the stroke
of death, I went to bed, and the physician being sent for, trembling with
apprehension, I related my case; judging it past all cure. I believe the
doctor was of the same opinion; however he performed his office, running
over a long string of causes and effects beyond my comprehension, after
which, in consequence of this sublime theory, he set about, 'in anima
vili', the experimental part of his art, but the means he was pleased to
adopt in order to effect a cure were so troublesome, disgusting, and
followed by so little effect, that I soon discontinued it, and after some
weeks, finding I was neither better nor worse, left my bed, and returned
to my usual method of living; but the beating of my arteries and the
buzzing in my ears has never quitted me a moment during the thirty years'
time which has elapsed since that time.

Till now, I had been a great sleeper, but a total privation of repose,
with other alarming symptoms which have accompanied it, even to this
time, persuaded me I had but a short time to live. This idea
tranquillized me for a time: I became less anxious about a cure, and
being persuaded I could not prolong life, determined to employ the
remainder of it as usefully as possible. This was practicable by a
particular indulgence of Nature, which, in this melancholy state,
exempted me from sufferings which it might have been supposed I should
have experienced. I was incommoded by the noise, but felt no pain, nor
was it accompanied by any habitual inconvenience, except nocturnal
wakefulness, and at all times a shortness of breath, which is not violent
enough to be called an asthma, but was troublesome when I attempted to
run, or use any degree of exertion.

This accident, which seemed to threaten the dissolution of my body, only
killed my passions, and I have reason to thank Heaven for the happy
effect produced by it on my soul. I can truly say, I only began to live
when I considered myself as entering the grave; for, estimating at their
real value those things I was quitting; I began to employ myself on
nobler objects, namely by anticipating those I hoped shortly to have the
contemplation of, and which I had hitherto too much neglected. I had
often made light of religion, but was never totally devoid of it;
consequently, it cost me less pain to employ my thoughts on that subject,
which is generally thought melancholy, though highly pleasing to those
who make it an object of hope and consolation; Madam de Warrens,
therefore, was more useful to me on this occasion than all the
theologians in the world would have been.

She, who brought everything into a system, had not failed to do as much
by religion; and this system was composed of ideas that bore no affinity
to each other. Some were extremely good, and others very ridiculous,
being made up of sentiments proceeding from her disposition, and
prejudices derived from education. Men, in general, make God like
themselves; the virtuous make Him good, and the profligate make Him
wicked; ill-tempered and bilious devotees see nothing but hell, because
they would willingly damn all mankind; while loving and gentle souls
disbelieve it altogether; and one of the astonishments I could never
overcome, is to see the good Fenelon speak of it in his Telemachus as if
he really gave credit to it; but I hope he lied in that particular, for
however strict he might be in regard to truth, a bishop absolutely must
lie sometimes. Madam de Warrens spoke truth with me, and that soul, made
up without gall, who could not imagine a revengeful and ever angry God,
saw only clemency and forgiveness, where devotees bestowed inflexible
justice, and eternal punishment.

She frequently said there would be no justice in the Supreme Being should
He be strictly just to us; because, not having bestowed what was
necessary to render us essentially good, it would be requiring more than
he had given. The most whimsical idea was, that not believing in hell,
she was firmly persuaded of the reality of purgatory. This arose from
her not knowing what to do with the wicked, being loathed to damn them
utterly, nor yet caring to place them with the good till they had become
so; and we must really allow, that both in this world and the next, the
wicked are very troublesome company.

It is clearly seen that the doctrine of original sin and the redemption
of mankind is destroyed by this system; consequently that the basis of
the Christian dispensation, as generally received, is shaken, and that
the Catholic faith cannot subsist with these principles; Madam de
Warrens, notwithstanding, was a good Catholic, or at least pretended to
be one, and certainly desired to become such, but it appeared to her that
the Scriptures were too literally and harshly explained, supposing that
all we read of everlasting torments were figurative threatenings, and the
death of Jesus Christ an example of charity, truly divine, which should
teach mankind to love God and each other; in a word, faithful to the
religion she had embraced, she acquiesced in all its professions of
faith, but on a discussion of each particular article, it was plain she
thought diametrically opposite to that church whose doctrines she
professed to believe. In these cases she exhibited simplicity of art, a
frankness more eloquent than sophistry, which frequently embarrassed her
confessor; for she disguised nothing from him. "I am a good Catholic,"
she would say, "and will ever remain so; I adopt with all the powers of
my soul the decisions of our holy Mother Church; I am not mistress of my
faith, but I am of my will, which I submit to you without reserve; I will
endeavor to believe all,--what can you require more?"

Had there been no Christian morality established, I am persuaded she
would have lived as if regulated by its principles, so perfectly did they
seem to accord with her disposition. She did everything that was
required; and she would have done the same had there been no such
requisition: but all this morality was subordinate to the principles of
M. Tavel, or rather she pretended to see nothing in religion that
contradicted them; thus she would have favored twenty lovers in a day,
without any idea of a crime, her conscience being no more moved in that
particular than her passions. I know that a number of devotees are not
more scrupulous, but the difference is, they are seduced by constitution,
she was blinded by her sophisms. In the midst of conversations the most
affecting, I might say the most edifying, she would touch on this
subject, without any change of air or manner, and without being sensible
of any contradiction in her opinions; so much was she persuaded that our
restrictions on that head are merely political, and that any person of
sense might interpret, apply, or make exceptions to them, without any
danger of offending the Almighty.

Though I was far enough from being of the same opinion in this
particular, I confess I dared not combat hers; indeed, as I was situated,
it would have been putting myself in rather awkward circumstances, since
I could only have sought to establish my opinion for others, myself being
an exception. Besides, I entertained but little hopes of making her
alter hers, which never had any great influence on her conduct, and at
the time I am speaking of none; but I have promised faithfully to
describe her principles, and I will perform my engagement--I now return
to myself.

Finding in her all those ideas I had occasion for to secure me from the
fears of death and its future consequences, I drew confidence and
security from this source; my attachment became warmer than ever, and I
would willingly have transmitted to her my whole existence, which seemed
ready to abandon me. From this redoubled attachment, a persuasion that I
had but a short time to live, and profound security on my future state,
arose an habitual and even pleasing serenity, which, calming every
passion that extends our hopes and fears, made me enjoy without
inquietude or concern the few days which I imagined remained for me.
What contributed to render them still snore agreeable was an endeavor to
encourage her rising taste for the country, by every amusement I could
possibly devise, wishing to attach her to her garden, poultry, pigeons,
and cows: I amused myself with them and these little occupations, which
employed my time without injuring my tranquillity, were more serviceable
than a milk diet, or all the remedies bestowed on my poor shattered
machine, even to effecting the utmost possible reestablishment of it.

The vintage and gathering in our fruit employed the remainder of the
year; we became more and more attached to a rustic life, and the society
of our honest neighbors. We saw the approach of winter with regret, and
returned to the city as if going into exile. To me this return was
particularly gloomy, who never expected to see the return of spring, and
thought I took an everlasting leave of Charmettes. I did not quit it
without kissing the very earth and trees, casting back many a wishful
look as I went towards Chambery.

Having left my scholars for so long a time, and lost my relish for the
amusements of the town, I seldom went out, conversing only with Madam de
Warrens and a Monsieur Salomon, who had lately become our physician. He
was an honest man, of good understanding, a great Cartesian, spoke
tolerably well on the system of the world, and his agreeable and
instructive conversations were more serviceable than his prescriptions.
I could never bear that foolish trivial mode of conversation which is so
generally adopted; but useful instructive discourse has always given me
great pleasure, nor was I ever backward to join in it. I was much
pleased with that of M. Salomon; it appeared to me, that when in his
company, I anticipated the acquisition of that sublime knowledge which my
soul would enjoy when freed from its mortal fetters. The inclination I
had for him extended to the subjects which he treated on, and I began to
look after books which might better enable me to understand his
discourse. Those which mingled devotion with science were most agreeable
to me, particularly Port Royal's Oratory, and I began to read or rather
to devour them. One fell into my hands written by Father Lami, called
'Entretiens sur les Sciences', which was a kind of introduction to the
knowledge of those books it treated of. I read it over a hundred times,
and resolved to make this my guide; in short, I found (notwithstanding my
ill state of health) that I was irresistibly drawn towards study, and
though looking on each day as the last of my life, read with as much
avidity as if certain I was to live forever.

I was assured that reading would injure me; but on the contrary, I am
rather inclined to think it was serviceable, not only to my soul, but
also to my body; for this application, which soon became delightful,
diverted my thoughts from my disorders, and I soon found myself much less
affected by them. It is certain, however, that nothing gave me absolute
ease, but having no longer any acute pain, I became accustomed to
languishment and wakefulness; to thinking instead of acting; in short, I
looked on the gradual and slow decay of my body as inevitably progressive
and only to be terminated by death.

This opinion not only detached me from all the vain cares of life, but
delivered me from the importunity of medicine, to which hitherto, I had
been forced to submit, though contrary to my inclination. Salomon,
convinced that his drugs were unavailing, spared me the disagreeable task
of taking them, and contented himself with amusing the grief of my poor
Madam de Warrens by some of those harmless preparations, which serve to
flatter the hopes of the patient and keep up the credit of the doctor.
I discontinued the strict regimen I had latterly observed, resumed the
use of wine, and lived in every respect like a man in perfect health,
as far as my strength would permit, only being careful to run into no
excess; I even began to go out and visit my acquaintance, particularly
M. de Conzie, whose conversation was extremely pleasing to me. Whether
it struck me as heroic to study to my last hour, or that some hopes of
life yet lingered in the bottom of my heart, I cannot tell, but the
apparent certainty of death, far from relaxing my inclination for
improvement, seemed to animate it, and I hastened to acquire knowledge
for the other world, as if convinced I should only possess that portion I
could carry with me. I took a liking to the shop of a bookseller, whose
name was Bouchard, which was frequented by some men of letters, and as
the spring (whose return I had never expected to see again) was
approaching, furnished myself with some books for Charmettes, in case I
should have the happiness to return there.

I had that happiness, and enjoyed it to the utmost extent. The rapture
with which I saw the trees put out their first bud, is inexpressible!
The return of spring seemed to me like rising from the grave into
paradise. The snow was hardly off the ground when we left our dungeon
and returned to Charmettes, to enjoy the first warblings of the
nightingale. I now thought no more of dying, and it is really singular,
that from this time I never experienced any dangerous illness in the
country. I have suffered greatly, but never kept my bed, and have often
said to those about me, on finding myself worse than ordinary, "Should
you see me at the point of death, carry me under the shade of an oak, and
I promise you I shall recover."

Though weak, I resumed my country occupations, as far as my strength
would permit, and conceived a real grief at not being able to manage our
garden without help; for I could not take five or six strokes with the
spade without being out of breath and overcome with perspiration; when I
stooped the beating redoubled, and the blood flew with such violence to
my head, that I was instantly obliged to stand upright. Being therefore
confined to less fatiguing employments, I busied myself about the dove--
house, and was so pleased with it that I sometimes passed several hours
there without feeling a moment's weariness. The pigeon is very timid and
difficult to tame, yet I inspired mine with so much confidence that they
followed me everywhere, letting me catch them at pleasure, nor could I
appear in the garden without having two or three on my arms or head in an
instant, and notwithstanding the pleasure I took in them, their company
became so troublesome that I was obliged to lessen the familiarity. I
have ever taken great pleasure in taming animals, particularly those that
are wild and fearful. It appeared delightful to me, to inspire them with
a confidence which I took care never to abuse, wishing them to love me

I have already mentioned that I purchased some books: I did not forget to
read them, but in a manner more proper to fatigue than instruct me.
I imagined that to read a book profitably, it was necessary to be
acquainted with every branch of knowledge it even mentioned; far from
thinking that the author did not do this himself, but drew assistance
from other books, as he might see occasion. Full of this silly idea, I
was stopped every moment, obliged to run from one book to another, and
sometimes, before I could reach the tenth page of what I was studying,
found it necessary to turn over a whole library. I was so attached to
this ridiculous method, that I lost a prodigious deal of time and had
bewildered my head to such a degree, that I was hardly capable of doing,
seeing or comprehending anything. I fortunately perceived, at length,
that I was in the wrong road, which would entangle me in an inextricable
labyrinth, and quitted it before I was irrevocably lost.

When a person has any real taste for the sciences, the first thing he
perceives in the pursuit of them is that connection by which they
mutually attract, assist, and enlighten each other, and that it is
impossible to attain one without the assistance of the rest. Though the
human understanding cannot grasp all, and one must ever be regarded as
the principal object, yet if the rest are totally neglected, the favorite
study is generally obscure; I was convinced that my resolution to improve
was good and useful in itself, but that it was necessary I should change
my method; I, therefore, had recourse to the encyclopaedia. I began by a
distribution of the general mass of human knowledge into its various
branches, but soon discovered that I must pursue a contrary course, that
I must take each separately, and trace it to that point where it united
with the rest: thus I returned to the general synthetical method, but
returned thither with a conviction that I was going right. Meditation
supplied the want of knowledge, and a very natural reflection gave
strength to my resolutions, which was, that whether I lived or died, I
had no time to lose; for having learned but little before the age of
five-and-twenty, and then resolving to learn everything, was engaging to
employ the future time profitably. I was ignorant at what point accident
or death might put a period to my endeavors, and resolved at all events
to acquire with the utmost expedition some idea of every species of
knowledge, as well to try my natural disposition, as to judge for myself
what most deserved cultivation.

In the execution of my plan, I experienced another advantage which I had
never thought of; this was, spending a great deal of time profitably.
Nature certainly never meant me for study, since attentive application
fatigues me so much, that I find it impossible to employ myself half an
hour together intently on any one subject; particularly while following
another person's ideas, for it has frequently happened that I have
pursued my own for a much longer period with success. After reading a
few pages of an author with close application, my understanding is
bewildered, and should I obstinately continue, I tire myself to no
purpose, a stupefaction seizes me, and I am no longer conscious of what I
read; but in a succession of various subjects, one relieves me from the
fatigue of the other, and without finding respite necessary, I can follow
them with pleasure.

I took advantage of this observation in the plan of my studies, taking
care to intermingle them in such a manner that I was never weary: it is
true that domestic and rural concerns furnished many pleasing
relaxations; but as my eagerness for improvement increased, I contrived
to find opportunities for my studies, frequently employing myself about
two things at the same time, without reflecting that both were
consequently neglected.

In relating so many trifling details, which delight me, but frequently
tire my reader, I make use of the caution to suppress a great number,
though, perhaps, he would have no idea of this, if I did not take care to
inform him of it: for example, I recollect with pleasure all the
different methods I adopted for the distribution of my time, in such a
manner as to produce the utmost profit and pleasure. I may say, that the
portion of my life which I passed in this retirement, though in continual
ill-health, was that in which I was least idle and least wearied. Two or
three months were thus employed in discovering the bent of my genius;
meantime, I enjoyed, in the finest season of the year, and in a spot it
rendered delightful, the charms of a life whose worth I was so highly
sensible of, in such a society, as free as it was charming; if a union so
perfect, and the extensive knowledge I purposed to acquire, can be called
society. It seemed to me as if I already possessed the improvements I
was only in pursuit of: or rather better, since the pleasure of learning
constituted a great part of my happiness.

I must pass over these particulars, which were to me the height of
enjoyment, but are too trivial to bear repeating: indeed, true happiness
is indescribable, it is only to be felt, and this consciousness of
felicity is proportionately more, the less able we are to describe it;
because it does not absolutely result from a concourse of favorable
incidents, but is an affection of the mind itself. I am frequently
guilty of repetitions, but should be infinitely more so, did I repeat the
same thing as often as it recurs with pleasure to my mind. When at
length my variable mode of life was reduced to a more uniform course, the
following was nearly the distribution of time which I adopted: I rose
every morning before the sun, and passed through a neighboring orchard
into a pleasant path, which, running by a vineyard, led towards Chambery.
While walking, I offered up my prayers, not by a vain motion of the lips,
but a sincere elevation of my heart, to the Great Author of delightful
nature, whose beauties were so charmingly spread out before me! I never
love to pray in a chamber; it seems to me that the walls and all the
little workmanship of man interposed between God and myself: I love to
contemplate Him in his works, which elevate my soul, and raise my
thoughts to Him. My prayers were pure, I can affirm it, and therefore
worthy to be heard:--I asked for myself and her from whom my thoughts
were never divided, only an innocent and quiet life, exempt from vice,
sorrow and want; I prayed that we might die the death of the just, and
partake of their lot hereafter: for the rest, it was rather admiration
and contemplation than request, being satisfied that the best means to
obtain what is necessary from the Giver of every perfect good, is rather
to deserve than to solicit. Returning from my walk, I lengthened the way
by taking a roundabout path, still contemplating with earnestness and
delight the beautiful scenes with which I was surrounded, those only
objects that never fatigue either the eye or the heart. As I approached
our habitation, I looked forward to see if Madam de Warrens was stirring,
and when I perceived her shutters open, I even ran with joy towards the
house: if they were yet shut I went into the garden to wait their
opening, amusing myself, meantime, by a retrospection of what I had read
the preceding evening, or in gardening. The moment the shutter drew back
I hastened to embrace her, frequently half asleep; and this salute, pure
as it was affectionate, even from its innocence, possessed a charm which
the senses can never bestow. We usually breakfasted on milk-coffee; this
was the time of day when we had most leisure, and when we chatted with
the greatest freedom. These sittings, which were usually pretty long,
have given me a fondness for breakfasts, and I infinitely prefer those of
England, or Switzerland, which are considered as a meal, at which all the
family assemble, than those of France, where they breakfast alone in
their several apartments, or more frequently have none at all. After an
hour or two passed in discourse, I went to my study till dinner;
beginning with some philosophical work, such as the logic of Port-Royal,
Locke's Essays, Mallebranche, Leibtnitz, Descartes, etc. I soon found
that these authors perpetually contradict each other, and formed the
chimerical project of reconciling them, which cost me much labor and loss
of time, bewildering my head without any profit. At length (renouncing
this idea) I adopted one infinitely more profitable, to which I attribute
all the progress I have since made, notwithstanding the defects of my
capacity; for 'tis certain I had very little for study. On reading each
author, I acquired a habit of following all his ideas, without suffering
my own or those of any other writer to interfere with them, or entering
into any dispute on their utility. I said to myself, "I will begin by
laying up a stock of ideas, true or false, but clearly conceived, till my
understanding shall be sufficiently furnished to enable me to compare and
make choice of those that are most estimable." I am sensible this method
is not without its inconveniences, but it succeeded in furnishing me with
a fund of instruction. Having passed some years in thinking after
others, without reflection, and almost without reasoning, I found myself
possessed of sufficient materials to set about thinking on my own
account, and when journeys of business deprived me of the opportunities
of consulting books, I amused myself with recollecting and comparing what
I had read, weighing every opinion on the balance of reason, and
frequently judging my masters. Though it was late before I began to
exercise my judicial faculties, I have not discovered that they had lost
their vigor, and on publishing my own ideas, have never been accused of
being a servile disciple or of swearing 'in verba magistri'.

From these studies I passed to the elements of geometry, for I never went
further, forcing my weak memory to retain them by going the same ground a
hundred and a hundred times over. I did not admire Euclid, who rather
seeks a chain of demonstration than a connection of ideas: I preferred
the geometry of Father Lama, who from that time became one of my favorite
authors, and whose works I yet read with pleasure. Algebra followed, and
Father Lama was still my guide: when I made some progress, I perused
Father Reynaud's Science of Calculation, and then his Analysis
Demonstrated; but I never went far enough thoroughly to understand the
application of algebra to geometry. I was not pleased with this method
of performing operations by rule without knowing what I was about:
resolving geometrical problems by the help of equations seemed like
playing a tune by turning round a handle. The first time I found by
calculation that the square of a binocular figure was composed of the
square of each of its parts, and double the product of one by the other;
though convinced that my multiplication was right, I could not be
satisfied till I had made and examined the figure: not but I admire
algebra when applied to abstract quantities, but when used to demonstrate
dimensions, I wished to see the operation, and unless explained by lines,
could not rightly comprehend it.

After this came Latin: it was my most painful study, and in which I never
made great progress. I began by Port-Royal's Rudiments, but without
success; I lost myself in a crowd of rules; and in studying the last
forgot all that preceded it. A study of words is not calculated for a
man without memory, and it was principally an endeavor to make my memory
more retentive, that urged me obstinately to persist in this study, which
at length I was obliged to relinquish. As I understood enough to read an
easy author by the aid of a dictionary, I followed that method, and found
it succeed tolerably well. I likewise applied myself to translation, not
by writing, but mentally, and by exercise and perseverance attained to
read Latin authors easily, but have never been able to speak or write
that language, which has frequently embarrassed me when I have found
myself (I know not by what means) enrolled among men of letters.

Another inconvenience that arose from this manner of learning is, that I
never understood prosody, much less the rules of versification; yet,
anxious to understand the harmony of the language, both in prose and
verse, I have made many efforts to obtain it, but am convinced, that
without a master it is almost impossible. Having learned the composition
of the hexameter, which is the easiest of all verses, I had the patience
to measure out the greater part of Virgil into feet and quantity, and
whenever I was dubious whether a syllable was long or short, immediately
consulted my Virgil. It may easily be conceived that I ran into many
errors in consequence of those licenses permitted by the rules of
versification; and it is certain, that if there is an advantage in
studying alone, there are also great inconveniences and inconceivable
labor, as I have experienced more than any one.

At twelve I quitted my books, and if dinner was not ready, paid my
friends, the pigeons, a visit, or worked in the garden till it was, and
when I heard myself called, ran very willingly, and with a good appetite
to partake of it, for it is very remarkable, that let me be ever so
indisposed my appetite never fails. We dined very agreeably, chatting
till Madam de Warrens could eat. Two or three times a week, when it was
fine, we drank our coffee in a cool shady arbor behind the house, that I
had decorated with hops, and which was very refreshing during the heat;
we usually passed an hour in viewing our flowers and vegetables, or in
conversation relative to our manner of life, which greatly increased the
pleasure of it. I had another little family at the end of the garden;
these were several hives of bees, which I never failed to visit once a
day, and was frequently accompanied by Madam de Warrens. I was greatly
interested in their labor, and amused myself seeing them return to the
hives, their little thighs so loaded with the precious store that they
could hardly walk. At first, curiosity made me indiscreet, and they
stung me several times, but afterwards, we were so well acquainted, that
let me approach as near as I would, they never molested me, though the
hives were full and the bees ready to swarm. At these times I have been
surrounded, having them on my hands and face without apprehending any
danger. All animals are distrustful of man, and with reason, but when
once assured he does not mean to injure them, their confidence becomes so
great that he must be worse than a barbarian who abuses it.

After this I returned to my books; but my afternoon employment ought
rather to bear the name of recreation and amusement, than labor or study.
I have never been able to bear application after dinner, and in general
any kind of attention is painful to me during the heat of the day. I
employed myself, 'tis true, but without restraint or rule, and read
without studying. What I most attended to at these times, was history
and geography, and as these did not require intense application, made as
much progress in them as my weak memory would permit. I had an
inclination to study Father Petau, and launched into the gloom of
chronology, but was disgusted at the critical part, which I found had
neither bottom nor banks; this made me prefer the more exact measurement
of time by the course of the celestial bodies. I should even have
contracted a fondness for astronomy, had I been in possession of
instruments, but was obliged to content myself with some of the elements
of that art, learned from books, and a few rude observations made with a
telescope, sufficient only to give me a general idea of the situation of
the heavenly bodies; for my short sight is insufficient to distinguish
the stars without the help of a glass.

I recollect an adventure on this subject, the remembrance of which has
often diverted me. I had bought a celestial planisphere to study the
constellations by, and, having fixed it on a frame, when the nights were
fine and the sky clear, I went into the garden; and fixing the frame on
four sticks, something higher than myself, which I drove into the ground,
turned the planisphere downwards, and contrived to light it by means of a
candle (which I put in a pail to prevent the wind from blowing it out)
and then placed in the centre of the above--mentioned four supporters;
this done, I examined the stars with my glass, and from time to time
referring to my planisphere, endeavored to distinguish the various
constellations. I think I have before observed that our garden was on a
terrace, and lay open to the road. One night, some country people
passing very late, saw me in a most grotesque habit, busily employed in
these observations: the light, which struck directly on the planisphere,
proceeding from a cause they could not divine (the candle being concealed
by the sides of the pail), the four stakes supporting a large paper,
marked over with various uncouth figures, with the motion of the
telescope, which they saw turning backwards and forwards, gave the whole
an air of conjuration that struck them with horror and amazement. My
figure was by no means calculated to dispel their fears; a flapped hat
put on over my nightcap, and a short cloak about my shoulder (which Madam
de Warrens had obliged me to put on) presented in their idea the image of
a real sorcerer. Being near midnight, they made no doubt but this was
the beginning of some diabolical assembly, and having no curiosity to pry
further into these mysteries, they fled with all possible speed, awakened
their neighbors, and described this most dreadful vision. The story
spread so fast that the next day the whole neighborhood was informed that
a nocturnal assembly of witches was held in the garden that belonged to
Monsieur Noiret, and I am ignorant what might have been the consequence
of this rumor if one of the countrymen who had been witness to my
conjurations had not the same day carried his complaint to two Jesuits,
who frequently came to visit us, and who, without knowing the foundation
of the story, undeceived and satisfied them. These Jesuits told us the
whole affair, and I acquainted them with the cause of it, which
altogether furnished us with a hearty laugh. However, I resolved for the
future to make my observations without light, and consult my planisphere
in the house. Those who have read Venetian magic, in the 'Letters from
the Mountain', may find that I long since had the reputation of being a

Such was the life I led at Charmettes when I had no rural employments,
for they ever had the preference, and in those that did not exceed my
strength, I worked like a peasant; but my extreme weakness left me little
except the will; besides, as I have before observed, I wished to do two
things at once, and therefore did neither well. I obstinately persisted
in forcing my memory to retain a great deal by heart, and for that
purpose, I always carried some book with me, which, while at work,
I studied with inconceivable labor. I was continually repeating
something, and am really amazed that the fatigue of these vain and
continual efforts did not render me entirely stupid. I must have learned
and relearned the Eclogues of Virgil twenty times over, though at this
time I cannot recollect a single line of them. I have lost or spoiled a
great number of books by a custom I had of carrying them with me into the
dove-house, the garden, orchard or vineyard, when, being busy about
something else, I laid my book at the foot of a tree, on the hedge, or
the first place that came to hand, and frequently left them there,
finding them a fortnight after, perhaps, rotted to pieces, or eaten by
the ants or snails; and this ardor for learning became so far a madness
that it rendered me almost stupid, and I was perpetually muttering some
passage or other to myself.

The writings of Port-Royal, and those of the Oratory, being what I most
read, had made me half a Jansenist, and, notwithstanding all my
confidence, their harsh theology sometimes alarmed me. A dread of hell,
which till then I had never much apprehended, by little and little
disturbed my security, and had not Madam de Warrens tranquillized my
soul, would at length have been too much for me. My confessor, who was
hers likewise, contributed all in his power to keep up my hopes. This
was a Jesuit, named Father Hemet; a good and wise old man, whose memory
I shall ever hold in veneration. Though a Jesuit, he had the simplicity
of a child, and his manners, less relaxed than gentle, were precisely
what was necessary to balance the melancholy impressions made on me by
Jansenism. This good man and his companion, Father Coppier, came
frequently to visit us at Charmette, though the road was very rough and
tedious for men of their age. These visits were very comfortable to me,
which may the Almighty return to their souls, for they were so old that I
cannot suppose them yet living. I sometimes went to see them at
Chambery, became acquainted at their convent, and had free access to the
library. The remembrance of that happy time is so connected with the
idea of those Jesuits, that I love one on account of the other, and
though I have ever thought their doctrines dangerous, could never find
myself in a disposition to hate them cordially.

I should like to know whether there ever passed such childish notions in
the hearts of other men as sometimes do in mine. In the midst of my
studies, and of a life as innocent as man could lead, notwithstanding
every persuasion to the contrary, the dread of hell frequently tormented
me. I asked myself, "What state am I in? Should I die at this instant,
must I be damned?" According to my Jansenists the matter was
indubitable, but according to my conscience it appeared quite the
contrary: terrified and floating in this cruel uncertainty, I had
recourse to the most laughable expedient to resolve my doubts, for which
I would willingly shut up any man as a lunatic should I see him practise
the same folly. One day, meditating on this melancholy subject,
I exercised myself in throwing stones at the trunks of trees, with my
usual dexterity, that is to say, without hitting any of them. In the
height of this charming exercise, it entered my mind to make a kind of
prognostic, that might calm my inquietude; I said, "I will throw this
stone at the tree facing me; if I hit my mark, I will consider it as a
sign of salvation; if I miss, as a token of damnation." While I said
this, I threw the stone with a trembling hand and beating breast but so
happily that it struck the body of the tree, which truly was not a
difficult matter, for I had taken care to choose one that was very large
and very near me. From that moment I never doubted my salvation: I know
not on recollecting this trait, whether I ought to laugh or shudder at
myself. Ye great geniuses, who surely laugh at my folly, congratulate
yourselves on your superior wisdom, but insult not my unhappiness, for I
swear to you that I feel it most sensibly.

These troubles, these alarms, inseparable, perhaps, from devotion, were
only at intervals; in general, I was tranquil, and the impression made on
my soul by the idea of approaching death, was less that of melancholy
than a peaceful languor, which even had its pleasures. I have found
among my old papers a kind of congratulation and exhortation which I made
to myself on dying at an age when I had the courage to meet death with
serenity, without having experienced any great evils, either of body or
mind. How much justice was there in the thought! A preconception of
what I had to suffer made me fear to live, and it seemed that I dreaded
the fate which must attend my future days. I have never been so near
wisdom as during this period, when I felt no great remorse for the past,
nor tormenting fear for the future; the reigning sentiment of my soul
being the enjoyment of the present. Serious people usually possess a
lively sensuality, which makes them highly enjoy those innocent pleasures
that are allowed them. Worldlings (I know not why) impute this to them
as a crime: or rather, I well know the cause of this imputation, it is
because they envy others the enjoyment of those simple and pure delights
which they have lost the relish of. I had these inclinations, and found
it charming to gratify them in security of conscience. My yet
inexperienced heart gave in to all with the calm happiness of a child,
or rather (if I dare use the expression) with the raptures of an angel;
for in reality these pure delights are as serene as those of paradise.
Dinners on the grass at Montagnole, suppers in our arbor, gathering in
the fruits, the vintage, a social meeting with our neighbors; all these
were so many holidays, in which Madam de Warrens took as much pleasure as
myself. Solitary walks afforded yet purer pleasure, because in them our
hearts expanded with greater freedom: one particularly remains in my
memory; it was on a St. Louis' day, whose name Madam de Warrens bore: we
set out together early and unattended, after having heard a mass at break
of day in a chapel adjoining our house, from a Carmelite, who attended
for that purpose. As I proposed walking over the hills opposite our
dwelling, which we had not yet visited, we sent our provisions on before;
the excursion being to last the whole day. Madam de Warrens, though
rather corpulent, did not walk ill, and we rambled from hill to hill and
wood to wood, sometimes in the sun, but oftener in the shade, resting
from time to time, and regardless how the hours stole away; speaking of
ourselves, of our union, of the gentleness of our fate, and offering up
prayers for its duration, which were never heard. Everything conspired
to augment our happiness: it had rained for several days previous to
this, there was no dust, the brooks were full and rapid, a gentle breeze
agitated the leaves, the air was pure, the horizon free from clouds,
serenity reigned in the sky as in our hearts. Our dinner was prepared at
a peasant's house, and shared with him and his family, whose benedictions
we received. These poor Savoyards are the worthiest of people! After
dinner we regained the shade, and while I was picking up bits of dried
sticks, to boil our coffee, Madam de Warrens amused herself with
herbalizing among the bushes, and with the flowers I had gathered for her
in my way. She made me remark in their construction a thousand natural
beauties, which greatly amused me, and which ought to have given me a
taste for botany; but the time was not yet come, and my attention was
arrested by too many other studies. Besides this, an idea struck me,
which diverted my thoughts from flowers and plants: the situation of my
mind at that moment, all that we had said or done that day, every object
that had struck me, brought to my remembrance the kind of waking dream I
had at Annecy seven or eight years before, and which I have given an
account of in its place. The similarity was so striking that it affected
me even to tears: in a transport of tenderness I embraced Madam de
Warrens. "My dearest friend," said I, "this day has long since been
promised me: I can see nothing beyond it: my happiness, by your means,
is at its height; may it never decrease; may it continue as long as I am
sensible of its value-then it can only finish with my life."

Thus happily passed my days, and the more happily as I perceived nothing
that could disturb or bring them to a conclusion; not that the cause of
my former uneasiness had absolutely ceased, but I saw it take another
course, which I directed with my utmost care to useful objects, that the
remedy might accompany the evil. Madam de Warrens naturally loved the
country, and this taste did not cool while with me. By little and little
she contracted a fondness for rustic employments, wished to make the most
of her land, and had in that particular a knowledge which she practised
with pleasure.

Not satisfied with what belonged to the house, she hired first a field,
then a meadow, transferring her enterprising humor to the objects of
agriculture, and instead of remaining unemployed in the house, was in the
way of becoming a complete farmer. I was not greatly pleased to see this
passion increase, and endeavored all I could to oppose it; for I was
certain she would be deceived, and that her liberal extravagant
disposition would infallibly carry her expenses beyond her profits;
however, I consoled myself by thinking the produce could not be useless,
and would at least help her to live. Of all the projects she could form,
this appeared the least ruinous: without regarding it, therefore, in the
light she did, as a profitable scheme, I considered it as a perpetual
employment, which would keep her from more ruinous enterprises, and out
of the reach of impostors. With this idea, I ardently wished to recover
my health and strength, that I might superintend her affairs, overlook
her laborers, or, rather, be the principal one myself. The exercise this
naturally obliged me to take, with the relaxation it procured me from
books and study, was serviceable to my health.

The winter following, Barillot returning from Italy, brought me some
books; and among others, the 'Bontempi' and 'la Cartella per Musica', of
Father Banchieri; these gave me a taste for the history of music and for
the theoretical researches of that pleasing art. Barillot remained some
time with us, and as I had been of age some months, I determined to go to
Geneva the following spring, and demand my mother's inheritance, or at
least that part which belonged to me, till it could be ascertained what
had become of my brother. This plan was executed as it had been
resolved: I went to Geneva; my father met me there, for he had
occasionally visited Geneva a long time since, without its being
particularly noticed, though the decree that had been pronounced against
him had never been reversed; but being esteemed for his courage, and
respected for his probity, the situation of his affairs was pretended to
be forgotten; or perhaps, the magistrates, employed with the great
project that broke out some little time after, were not willing to alarm
the citizens by recalling to their memory, at an improper time, this
instance of their former partiality.

I apprehended that I should meet with difficulties, on account of having
changed my religion, but none occurred; the laws of Geneva being less
harsh in that particular than those of Berne, where, whoever changes his
religion, not only loses his freedom, but his property. My rights,
however, were not disputed: but I found my patrimony, I know not how,
reduced to very little, and though it was known almost to a certainty
that my brother was dead, yet, as there was no legal proof, I could not
lay claim to his share, which I left without regret to my father, who
enjoyed it as long as he lived. No sooner were the necessary formalities
adjusted, and I had received my money, some of which I expended in books,
than I flew with the remainder to Madam de Warrens; my heart beat with
joy during the journey, and the moment in which I gave the money into her
hands, was to me a thousand times more delightful than that which gave it
into mine. She received this with a simplicity common to great souls,
who, doing similar actions without effort, see them without admiration;
indeed it was almost all expended for my use, for it would have been
employed in the same manner had it come from any other quarter.

My health was not yet re-established; I decayed visibly, was pale as
death, and reduced to an absolute skeleton; the beating of my arteries
was extreme, my palpitations were frequent: I was sensible of a continual
oppression, and my weakness became at length so great, that I could
scarcely move or step without danger of suffocation, stoop without
vertigoes, or lift even the smallest weight, which reduced me to the most
tormenting inaction for a man so naturally stirring as myself. It is
certain my disorder was in a great measure hypochondriacal. The vapors
is a malady common to people in fortunate situations: the tears I
frequently shed, without reason; the lively alarms I felt on the falling
of a leaf, or the fluttering of a bird; inequality of humor in the calm
of a most pleasing life; lassitude which made me weary even of happiness,
and carried sensibility to extravagance, were an instance of this. We
are so little formed for felicity, that when the soul and body do not
suffer together, they must necessarily endure separate inconveniences,
the good state of the one being almost always injurious to the happiness
of the other. Had all the pleasure of life courted me, my weakened frame
would not have permitted the enjoyment of them, without my being able to
particularize the real seat of my complaint; yet in the decline of life;
after having encountered very serious and real evils, my body seemed to
regain its strength, as if on purpose to encounter additional
misfortunes; and, at the moment I write this, though infirm, near sixty,
and overwhelmed with every kind of sorrow, I feel more ability to suffer
than I ever possessed for enjoyment when in the very flower of my age,
and in the bosom of real happiness.

To complete me, I had mingled a little physiology among my other
readings: I set about studying anatomy, and considering the multitude,
movement, and wonderful construction of the various parts that composed
the human machine; my apprehensions were instantly increased, I expected
to feel mine deranged twenty times a day, and far from being surprised to
find myself dying, was astonished that I yet existed! I could not read
the description of any malady without thinking it mine, and, had I not
been already indisposed, I am certain I should have become so from this
study. Finding in every disease symptoms similar to mine, I fancied I
had them all, and, at length, gained one more troublesome than any I yet
suffered, which I had thought myself delivered from; this was, a violent
inclination to seek a cure; which it is very difficult to suppress, when
once a person begins reading physical books. By searching, reflecting,
and comparing, I became persuaded that the foundation of my complaint was
a polypus at the heart, and Doctor Salomon appeared to coincide with the
idea. Reasonably this opinion should have confirmed my former resolution
of considering myself past cure; this, however, was not the case; on the
contrary; I exerted every power of my understanding in search of a remedy
for a polypus, resolving to undertake this marvellous cure.

In a journey which Anet had made to Montpelier, to see the physical
garden there, and visit Monsieur Sauvages, the demonstrator, he had been
informed that Monsieur Fizes had cured a polypus similar to that I
fancied myself afflicted with: Madam de Warrens, recollecting this
circumstance, mentioned it to me, and nothing more was necessary to
inspire me with a desire to consult Monsieur Fizes. The hope of recovery
gave me courage and strength to undertake the journey; the money from
Geneva furnished the means; Madam de Warrens, far from dissuading,
entreated me to go: behold me, therefore, without further ceremony, set
out for Montpelier!--but it was not necessary to go so far to find the
cure I was in search of.

Finding the motion of the horse too fatiguing, I had hired a chaise at
Grenoble, and on entering Moirans, five or six other chaises arrived in a
rank after mine. The greater part of these were in the train of a new
married lady called Madam du Colombier; with her was a Madam de Larnage,
not so young or handsome as the former, yet not less amiable. The bride
was to stop at Romans, but the other lady was to pursue her route as far
as Saint-Andiol, near the bridge du St. Esprit. With my natural timidity
it will not be conjectured that I was very ready at forming an
acquaintance with these fine ladies, and the company that attended them;
but travelling the same road, lodging at the same inns, and being obliged
to eat at the same table, the acquaintance seemed unavoidable, as any
backwardness on my part would have got me the character of a very
unsociable being: it was formed then, and even sooner than I desired,
for all this bustle was by no means convenient to a person in ill health,
particularly to one of my humor. Curiosity renders these vixens
extremely insinuating; they accomplish their design of becoming
acquainted with a man by endeavoring to turn his brain, and this was
precisely what happened to me. Madam du Colombier was too much
surrounded by her young gallants to have any opportunity of paying much
attention to me; besides, it was not worthwhile, as we were to separate
in so short a time; but Madam de Larnage (less attended to than her young
friend) had to provide herself for the remainder of the journey; behold
me, then, attacked by Madam de Larnage, and adieu to poor Jean Jacques,
or rather farewell to fever, vapors, and polypus; all completely vanished
when in her presence. The ill state of my health was the first subject
of our conversation; they saw I was indisposed, knew I was going to
Montpelier, but my air and manner certainly did not exhibit the
appearance of a libertine, since it was clear by what followed they did
not suspect I was going there for a reason that carries many that road.

In the morning they sent to inquire after my health and invite me to take
chocolate with them, and when I made my appearance asked how I had passed
the night. Once, according to my praiseworthy custom of speaking without
thought, I replied, "I did not know," which answer naturally made them
conclude I was a fool: but, on questioning me further; the examination
turned out so far to my advantage, that I rather rose in their opinion,
and I once heard Madam du Colombier say to her friend, "He is amiable,
but not sufficiently acquainted with the world." These words were a
great encouragement, and assisted me in rendering myself agreeable.

As we became more familiar, it was natural to give each other some little
account of whence we came and who we were: this embarrassed me greatly,
for I was sensible that in good company and among women of spirit, the
very name of a new convert would utterly undo me. I know not by what
whimsicallity I resolved to pass for an Englishman; however, in
consequence of that determination I gave myself out for a Jacobite, and
was readily believed. They called me Monsieur Dudding, which was the
name I assumed with my new character, and a cursed Marquis Torignan, who
was one of the company, an invalid like myself, and both old and ill--
tempered, took it in his head to begin a long conversation with me. He
spoke of King James, of the Pretender, and the old court of
St. Germain's; I sat on thorns the whole time, for I was totally
unacquainted with all these except what little I had picked up in the
account of Earl Hamilton, and from the gazettes; however, I made such
fortunate use of the little I did know as to extricate myself from this
dilemma, happy in not being questioned on the English language, which I
did not know a single word of.

The company were all very agreeable; we looked forward to the moment of
separation with regret, and therefore made snails' journeys. We arrived
one Sunday at St. Marcelein's; Madam de Larnage would go to mass; I
accompanied her, and had nearly ruined all my affairs, for by my modest
reserved countenance during the service, she concluded me a bigot, and
conceived a very indifferent opinion of me, as I learned from her own
account two days after. It required a great deal of gallantry on my part
to efface this ill impression, or rather Madam de Larnage (who was not
easily disheartened) determined to risk the first advances, and see how I
should behave. She made several, but far from being presuming on my
figure, I thought she was making sport of me: full of this ridiculous
idea there was no folly I was not guilty of.

Madam de Larnage persisted in such caressing behavior, that a much wiser
man than myself could hardly have taken it seriously. The more obvious
her advances were, the more I was confirmed in my mistake, and what
increased my torment, I found I was really in love with her.
I frequently said to myself, and sometimes to her, sighing, "Ah! why is
not all this real? then should I be the most fortunate of men." I am
inclined to think my stupidity did but increase her resolution, and make
her determined to get the better of it.

We left Madam du Colombier at Romans; after which Madam de Larnage, the
Marquis de Torignan, and myself continued our route slowly, and in the
most agreeable manner. The marquis, though indisposed, and rather ill-
humored, was an agreeable companion, but was not best pleased at seeing
the lady bestow all her attentions on me, while he passed unregarded; for
Madam de Larnage took so little care to conceal her inclination, that he
perceived it sooner than I did, and his sarcasms must have given me that
confidence I could not presume to take from the kindness of the lady, if
by a surmise, which no one but myself could have blundered on, I had not
imagined they perfectly understood each other, and were agreed to turn my
passion into ridicule. This foolish idea completed my stupidity, making
me act the most ridiculous part, while, had I listened to the feelings of
my heart, I might have been performing one far more brilliant. I am
astonished that Madam de Larnage was not disgusted at my folly, and did
not discard me with disdain; but she plainly perceived there was more
bashfulness than indifference in my composition.

We arrived at Valence to dinner, and according to our usual custom passed
the remainder of the day there. We lodged out of the city, at the St.
James, an inn I shall never forget. After dinner, Madam de Larnage
proposed a walk; she knew the marquis was no walker, consequently, this
was an excellent plan for a tete-a-tete, which she was predetermined to
make the most of. While we were walking round the city by the side of
the moats, I entered on a long history of my complaint, to which she
answered in so tender an accent, frequently pressing my arm, which she
held to her heart, that it required all my stupidity not to be convinced
of the sincerity of her attachment. I have already observed that she was
amiable; love rendered her charming, adding all the loveliness of youth:
and she managed her advances with so much art, that they were sufficient
to have seduced the most insensible: I was, therefore, in very uneasy
circumstances, and frequently on the point of making a declaration; but
the dread of offending her, and the still greater of being laughed at,
ridiculed, made table-talk, and complimented on my enterprise by the
satirical marquis, had such unconquerable power over me, that, though
ashamed of my ridiculous bashfulness, I could not take courage to
surmount it. I had ended the history of my complaints, which I felt the
ridiculousness of at this time; and not knowing how to look, or what to
say, continued silent, giving the finest opportunity in the world for
that ridicule I so much dreaded. Happily, Madam de Larnage took a more
favorable resolution, and suddenly interrupted this silence by throwing
her arms round my neck, while, at the same instant, her lips spoke too
plainly on mine to be any longer misunderstood. This was reposing that
confidence in me the want of which has almost always prevented me from
appearing myself: for once I was at ease, my heart, eyes and tongue,
spoke freely what I felt; never did I make better reparation for my
mistakes, and if this little conquest had cost Madam de Larnage some
difficulties, I have reason to believe she did not regret them.

Was I to live a hundred years, I should never forget this charming woman.
I say charming, for though neither young nor beautiful, she was neither
old nor ugly, having nothing in her appearance that could prevent her wit
and accomplishments from producing all their effects. It was possible to
see her without falling in love, but those she favored could not fail to
adore her; which proves, in my opinion, that she was not generally so
prodigal of her favors. It is true, her inclination for me was so sudden
and lively, that it scarce appears excusable; though from the short, but
charming interval I passed with her, I have reason to think her heart was
more influenced than her passions.

Our good intelligence did not escape the penetration of the marquis; not
that he discontinued his usual raillery; on the contrary, he treated me
as a sighing, hopeless swain, languishing under the rigors of his
mistress; not a word, smile, or look escaped him by which I could imagine
he suspected my happiness; and I should have thought him completely
deceived, had not Madam de Larnage, who was more clear-sighted than
myself, assured me of the contrary; but he was a well-bred man, and it
was impossible to behave with more attention or greater civility, than he
constantly paid me (notwithstanding his satirical sallies), especially
after my success, which, as he was unacquainted with my stupidity, he
perhaps gave me the honor of achieving. It has already been seen that he
was mistaken in this particular; but no matter, I profited by his error,
for being conscious that the laugh was on my side, I took all his sallies
in good part, and sometimes parried them with tolerable success; for,
proud of the reputation of wit which Madam de Larnage had thought fit to
discover in me, I no longer appeared the same man.

We were both in a country and season of plenty, and had everywhere
excellent cheer, thanks to the good cares of the marquis; though I would
willingly have relinquished this advantage to have been more satisfied
with the situation of our chambers; but he always sent his footman on to
provide them; and whether of his own accord, or by the order of his
master, the rogue always took care that the marquis' chamber should be
close by Madam de Larnage's, while mine was at the further end of the
house: but that made no great difference, or perhaps it rendered our
rendezvous the more charming; this happiness lasted four or five days,
during which time I was intoxicated with delight, which I tasted pure and
serene without any alloy; an advantage I could never boast before; and,
I may add, it is owing to Madam de Larnage that I did not go out of the
world without having tasted real pleasure.

If the sentiment I felt for her was not precisely love, it was at least a
very tender return of what she testified for me; our meetings were so
delightful, that they possessed all the sweets of love; without that kind
of delirium which affects the brain, and even tends to diminish our
happiness. I never experienced true love but once in my life, and that
was not with Madam de Larnage, neither did I feel that affection for her
which I had been sensible of, and yet continued to possess, for Madam de
Warrens; but for this very reason, our tete-a-tetes were a hundred times
more delightful. When with Madam de Warrens, my felicity was always
disturbed by a secret sadness, a compunction of heart, which I found it
impossible to surmount. Instead of being delighted at the acquisition of
so much happiness, I could not help reproaching myself for contributing
to render her I loved unworthy: on the contrary, with Madam de Lamage,
I was proud of my happiness, and gave in to it without repugnance, while
my triumph redoubled every other charm.

I do not recollect exactly where we quitted the marquis, who resided in
this country, but I know we were alone on our arrival at Montelimar,
where Madam de Larnage made her chambermaid get into my chaise, and
accommodate me with a seat in hers. It will easily be believed, that
travelling in this manner was by no means displeasing to me, and that I
should be very much puzzled to give any account of the country we passed
through. She had some business at Montelimar, which detained her there
two or three days; during this time she quitted me but one quarter of an
hour, for a visit she could not avoid, which embarrassed her with a
number of invitations she had no inclination to accept, and therefore
excused herself by pleading some indisposition; though she took care this
should not prevent our walking together every day, in the most charming
country, and under the finest sky imaginable. Oh! these three days!
what reason have I to regret them! Never did such happiness return

The amours of a journey cannot be very durable: it was necessary we
should part, and I must confess it was almost time; not that I was weary
of my happiness, but I might as well have been. We endeavored to comfort
each other for the pain of parting, by forming plans for our reunion; and
it was concluded, that after staying five or six weeks at Montpelier
(which would give Madam de Larnage time to prepare for my reception in
such a manner as to prevent scandal) I should return to Saint-Andiol, and
spend the winter under her direction. She gave me ample instruction on
what it was necessary I should know, on what it would be proper to say;
and how I should conduct myself. She spoke much and earnestly on the
care of my health, conjured me to consult skilful physicians, and be
attentive and exact in following their prescriptions whatever they might
happen to be. I believe her concern was sincere, for she loved me, and
gave proofs of her affection less equivocal than the prodigality of her
favors; for judging by my mode of travelling, that I was not in very
affluent circumstances (though not rich herself), on our parting, she
would have had me share the contents of her purse, which she had brought
pretty well furnished from Grenoble, and it was with great difficulty I
could make her put up with a denial. In a word, we parted; my heart full
of her idea, and leaving in hers (if I am not mistaken) a firm attachment
to me.

While pursuing the remainder of my journey, remembrance ran over
everything that had passed from the commencement of it, and I was well
satisfied at finding myself alone in a comfortable chaise, where I could
ruminate at ease on the pleasures I had enjoyed, and those which awaited
my return. I only thought of Saint-Andiol; of the life I was to lead
there; I saw nothing but Madam de Larnage, or what related to her; the
whole universe besides was nothing to me--even Madam de Warrens was
forgotten!--I set about combining all the details by which Madam de
Larnage had endeavored to give me in advance an idea of her house, of the
neighborhood, of her connections, and manner of life, finding everything

She had a daughter, whom she had often described in the warmest terms of
maternal affection: this daughter was fifteen lively, charming, and of an
amiable disposition. Madam de Larnage promised me her friendship; I had
not forgotten that promise, and was curious to know how Mademoiselle de
Larnage would treat her mother's 'bon ami'. These were the subjects of
my reveries from the bridge of St. Esprit to Remoulin: I had been advised
to visit the Pont-du-Gard; hitherto I had seen none of the remaining
monuments of Roman magnificence, and I expected to find this worthy the
hands by which it was constructed; for once, the reality surpassed my
expectation; this was the only time in my life it ever did so, and the
Romans alone could have produced that effect. The view of this noble and
sublime work, struck me the more forcibly, from being in the midst of a
desert, where silence and solitude render the majestic edifice more
striking, and admiration more lively, for though called a bridge it is
nothing more than an aqueduct. One cannot help exclaiming, what strength
could have transported these enormous stones so far from any quarry? And
what motive could have united the labors of so many millions of men, in a
place that no one inhabited? I remained here whole hours, in the most
ravishing contemplation, and returned pensive and thoughtful to my inn.
This reverie was by no means favorable to Madam de Larnage; she had taken
care to forewarn me against the girls of Montpelier, but not against the
Pont-du-Gard--it is impossible to provide for every contingency.

On my arrival at Nismes, I went to see the amphitheatre, which is a far
more magnificent work than even the Pont-du-Gard, yet it made a much less
impression on me, perhaps, because my admiration had been already
exhausted on the former object; or that the situation of the latter, in
the midst of a city, was less proper to excite it. This vast and superb
circus is surrounded by small dirty houses, while yet smaller and dirtier
fill up the area, in such a manner that the whole produces an unequal and
confused effect, in which regret and indignation stifle pleasure and
surprise. The amphitheatre at Verona is a vast deal smaller, and less
beautiful than that at Nismes, but preserved with all possible care and
neatness, by which means alone it made a much stronger and more agreeable
impression on me. The French pay no regard to these things, respect no
monument of antiquity; ever eager to undertake, they never finish, nor
preserve anything that is already finished to their hands.

I was so much better, and had gained such an appetite by exercise, that I
stopped a whole day at Pont-du-Lunel, for the sake of good entertainment
and company, this being deservedly esteemed at that time the best inn in
Europe; for those who kept it, knowing how to make its fortunate
situation turn to advantage, took care to provide both abundance and
variety. It was really curious to find in a lonely country-house, a
table every day furnished with sea and fresh-water fish, excellent game,
and choice wines, served up with all the attention and care, which are
only to be expected among the great or opulent, and all this for thirty
five sous each person: but the Pont-du-Lunel did not long remain on this
footing, for the proprietor, presuming too much on its reputation, at
length lost it entirely.

During this journey, I really forgot my complaints, but recollected them
again on my arrival at Montpelier. My vapors were absolutely gone, but
every other complaint remained, and though custom had rendered them less
troublesome, they were still sufficient to make any one who had been
suddenly seized with them, suppose himself attacked by some mortal
disease. In effect they were rather alarming than painful, and made the
mind suffer more than the body, though it apparently threatened the
latter with destruction. While my attention was called off by the
vivacity of my passions, I paid no attention to my health; but as my
complaints were not altogether imaginary, I thought of them seriously
when the tumult had subsided. Recollecting the salutary advice of Madam
de Larnage, and the cause of my journey, I consulted the most famous
practitioners, particularly Monsieur Fizes; and through superabundance of
precaution boarded at a doctor's who was an Irishman, and named Fitz-

This person boarded a number of young gentlemen who were studying physic;
and what rendered his house very commodious for an invalid, he contented
himself with a moderate pension for provisions, lodging, etc., and took
nothing of his boarders for attendance as a physician. He even undertook
to execute the orders of M. Fizes, and endeavored to re-establish my
health. He certainly acquitted himself very well in this employment; as
to regimen, indigestions were not to be gained at his table; and though I
am not much hurt at privations of that kind, the objects of comparison
were so near, that I could not help thinking with myself sometimes, that
M. de Torignan was a much better provider than M. Fitz-Morris;
notwithstanding, as there was no danger of, dying with hunger, and all
the youths were gay and good-humored, I believe this manner of living was
really serviceable, and prevented my falling into those languors I had
latterly been so subject to. I passed the morning in taking medicines,
particularly, I know not what kind of waters, but believe they were those
of Vals, and in writing to Madam de Larnage: for the correspondence was
regularly kept up, and Rousseau kindly undertook to receive these letters
for his good friend Dudding. At noon I took a walk to the Canourgue,
with some of our young boarders, who were all very good lads; after this
we assembled for dinner; when this was over, an affair of importance
employed the greater part of us till night; this was going a little way
out of town to take our afternoon's collation, and make up two or three
parties at mall, or mallet. As I had neither strength nor skill, I did
not play myself but I betted on the game, and, interested for the success
of my wager, followed the players and their balls over rough and stony
roads, procuring by this means both an agreeable and salutary exercise.
We took our afternoon's refreshment at an inn out of the city. I need
not observe that these meetings were extremely merry, but should not omit
that they were equally innocent, though the girls of the house were very
pretty. M. Fitz-Morris (who was a great mall player himself) was our
president; and I must observe, notwithstanding the imputation of wildness
that is generally bestowed on students, that I found more virtuous
dispositions among these youths than could easily be found among an equal
number of men: they were rather noisy than fond of wine, and more merry
than libertine.

I accustomed myself so much to this mode of life, and it accorded so
entirely with my humor, that I should have been very well content with a
continuance of it. Several of my fellow-boarders were Irish, from whom I
endeavored to learn some English words, as a precaution for Saint-Andiol.
The time now drew near for my departure; every letter Madam de Larnage
wrote, she entreated me not to delay it, and at length I prepared to obey

I was convinced that the physicians (who understood nothing of my
disorder) looked on my complaint as imaginary, and treated me
accordingly, with their waters and whey. In this respect physicians and
philosophers differ widely from theologians; admitting the truth only of
what they can explain, and making their knowledge the measure of
possibilities. These gentlemen understood nothing of my illness,
therefore concluded I could not be ill; and who would presume to doubt
the profound skill of a physician? I plainly saw they only meant to
amuse, and make me swallow my money; and judging their substitute at
Saint-Andiol would do me quite as much service, and be infinitely more
agreeable, I resolved to give her the preference; full, therefore, of
this wise resolution, I quitted Montpelier.

I set off towards the end of November, after a stay of six weeks or two
months in that city, where I left a dozen louis, without either my health
or understanding being the better for it, except from a short course of
anatomy begun under M. Fitz-Morris, which I was soon obliged to abandon,
from the horrid stench of the bodies he dissected, which I found it
impossible to endure.

Not thoroughly satisfied in my own mind on the rectitude of this
expedition, as I advanced towards the Bridge of St. Esprit (which was
equally the road to Saint-Andiol and to Chambery) I began to reflect on
Madam de Warrens, the remembrance of whose letters, though less frequent
than those from Madam de Larnage, awakened in my heart a remorse that
passion had stifled in the first part of my journey, but which became so
lively on my return, that, setting just estimate on the love of pleasure,
I found myself in such a situation of mind that I could listen wholly to
the voice of reason. Besides, in continuing to act the part of an
adventurer, I might be less fortunate than I had been in the beginning;
for it was only necessary that in all Saint-Andiol there should be one
person who had been in England, or who knew the English or anything of
their language, to prove me an impostor. The family of Madam de Larnage
might not be pleased with me, and would, perhaps, treat me unpolitely;
her daughter too made me uneasy, for, spite of myself, I thought more of
her than was necessary. I trembled lest I should fall in love with this
girl, and that very fear had already half done the business. Was I
going, in return for the mother's kindness, to seek the ruin of the
daughter? To sow dissension, dishonor, scandal, and hell itself, in her
family? The very idea struck me with horror, and I took the firmest
resolution to combat and vanquish this unhappy attachment, should I be so
unfortunate as to experience it. But why expose myself to this danger?
How miserable must the situation be to live with the mother, whom I
should be weary of, and sigh for the daughter, without daring to make
known my affection! What necessity was there to seek this situation, and
expose myself to misfortunes, affronts and remorse, for the sake of
pleasures whose greatest charm was already exhausted? For I was sensible
this attachment had lost its first vivacity. With these thoughts were
mingled reflections relative to my situation and duty to that good and
generous friend, who already loaded with debts, would become more so from
the foolish expenses I was running into, and whom I was deceiving so
unworthily. This reproach at length became so keen that it triumphed
over every temptation, and on approaching the bridge of St. Esprit I
formed the resolution to burn my whole magazine of letters from Saint-
Andiol, and continue my journey right forward to Chambery.

I executed this resolution courageously, with some sighs I confess, but
with the heart-felt satisfaction, which I enjoyed for the first time in
my life, of saying, "I merit my own esteem, and know how to prefer duty
to pleasure." This was the first real obligation I owed my books, since
these had taught me to reflect and compare. After the virtuous
principles I had so lately adopted, after all the rules of wisdom and
honor I had proposed to myself, and felt so proud to follow, the shame of
possessing so little stability, and contradicting so egregiously my own
maxims, triumphed over the allurements of pleasure. Perhaps, after all,
pride had as much share in my resolution as virtue; but if this pride is
not virtue itself, its effects are so similar that we are pardonable in
deceiving ourselves.

One advantage resulting from good actions is that they elevate the soul
to a disposition of attempting still better; for such is human weakness,
that we must place among our good deeds an abstinence from those crimes
we are tempted to commit. No sooner was my resolution confirmed than I
became another man, or rather, I became what I was before I had erred,
and saw in its true colors what the intoxication of the moment had either
concealed or disguised. Full of worthy sentiments and wise resolutions,
I continued my journey, intending to regulate my future conduct by the
laws of virtue, and dedicate myself without reserve to that best of
friends, to whom I vowed as much fidelity in future as I felt real
attachment. The sincerity of this return to virtue appeared to promise a
better destiny; but mine, alas! was fixed, and already begun: even at
the very moment when my heart, full of good and virtuous sentiments, was
contemplating only innocence and happiness through life, I touched on the
fatal period that was to draw after it the long chain of my misfortunes!

My impatience to arrive at Chambery had made me use more diligence than I
meant to do. I had sent a letter from Valence, mentioning the day and
hour I should arrive, but I had gained half a day on this calculation,
which time I passed at Chaparillan, that I might arrive exactly at the
time I mentioned. I wished to enjoy to its full extent the pleasure of
seeing her, and preferred deferring this happiness a little, that
expectancy might increase the value of it. This precaution had always
succeeded; hitherto my arrival had caused a little holiday; I expected no
less this time, and these preparations, so dear to me, would have been
well worth the trouble of contriving them.

I arrived then exactly at the hour, and while at a considerable distance,
looked forward with an expectancy of seeing her on the road to meet me.
The beating of my heart increased as I drew near the house; at length I
arrived, quite out of breath; for I had left my chaise in the town. I
see no one in the garden, at the door, or at the windows; I am seized
with terror, fearful that some accident has happened. I enter; all is
quiet; the laborers are eating their luncheon in the kitchen, and far
from observing any preparation, the servants seem surprised to see me,
not knowing I was expected. I go up--stairs, at length see her!--that
dear friend! so tenderly, truly, and entirely beloved. I instantly ran
towards her, and threw myself at her feet. "Ah! child!" said she, "art
thou returned then!" embracing me at the same time. "Have you had a
good journey? How do you do?" This reception amused me for some
moments. I then asked, whether she had received my letter? she answered
"Yes."--"I should have thought not," replied I; and the information
concluded there. A young man was with her at this time. I recollected
having seen him in the house before my departure, but at present he
seemed established there; in short, he was so; I found my place already

This young man came from the country of Vaud; his father, named
Vintzenried, was keeper of the prison, or, as he expressed himself,
Captain of the Castle of Chillon. This son of the captain was a
journeyman peruke-maker, and gained his living in that capacity when he
first presented himself to Madam de Warrens, who received him kindly, as
she did all comers, particularly those from her own country. He was a
tall, fair, silly youth; well enough made, with an unmeaning face, and a
mind of the same description, speaking always like the beau in a comedy,
and mingling the manners and customs of his former situation with a long
history of his gallantry and success; naming, according to his account,
not above half the marchionesses who had favored him and pretending never
to have dressed the head of a pretty woman, without having likewise
decorated her husband's; vain, foolish, ignorant and insolent; such was
the worthy substitute taken in my absence, and the companion offered me
on my return!

O! if souls disengaged from their terrestrial bonds, yet view from the
bosom of eternal light what passes here below, pardon, dear and
respectable shade, that I show no more favor to your failings than my
own, but equally unveil both. I ought and will be just to you as to
myself; but how much less will you lose by this resolution than I shall!
How much do your amiable and gentle disposition, your inexhaustible
goodness of heart, your frankness and other amiable virtues, compensate
for your foibles, if a subversion of reason alone can be called such.
You had errors, but not vices; your conduct was reprehensible, but your
heart was ever pure.

The new-comer had shown himself zealous and exact in all her little
commissions, which were ever numerous, and he diligently overlooked the
laborers. As noisy and insolent as I was quiet and forbearing, he was
seen or rather heard at the plough, in the hay-loft, wood-house, stable,
farm-yard, at the same instant. He neglected the gardening, this labor
being too peaceful and moderate; his chief pleasure was to load or drive
the cart, to saw or cleave wood; he was never seen without a hatchet or
pick-axe in his hand, running, knocking and hallooing with all his might.
I know not how many men's labor he performed, but he certainly made noise
enough for ten or a dozen at least. All this bustle imposed on poor
Madam de Warrens; she thought this young man a treasure, and, willing to
attach him to herself, employed the means she imagined necessary for that
purpose, not forgetting what she most depended on, the surrender of her

Those who have thus far read this work should be able to form some
judgment of my heart; its sentiments were the most constant and sincere,
particularly those which had brought me back to Chambery; what a sudden
and complete overthrow was this to my whole being! but to judge fully of
this, the reader must place himself for a moment in my situation. I saw
all the future felicity I had promised myself vanish in a moment; all the
charming ideas I had indulged so affectionately, disappear entirely; and
I, who even from childhood had not been able to consider my existence for
a moment as separate from hers, for the first time saw myself utterly
alone. This moment was dreadful, and those that succeeded it were ever
gloomy. I was yet young, but the pleasing sentiments of enjoyment and
hope, which enliven youth, were extinguished. From that hour my
existence seemed half annihilated. I contemplated in advance the
melancholy remains of an insipid life, and if at any time an image of
happiness glanced through my mind, it was not that which appeared natural
to me, and I felt that even should I obtain it I must still be wretched.

I was so dull of apprehension, and my confidence in her was so great,
that, notwithstanding the familiar tone of the new-comer, which I looked
on as an effect of the easy disposition of Madam de Warrens, which
rendered her free with everyone, I never should have suspected his real
situation had not she herself informed me of it; but she hastened to make
this avowal with a freedom calculated to inflame me with resentment,
could my heart have turned to that point. Speaking of this connection as
quite immaterial with respect to herself, she reproached me with
negligence in the care of the family, and mentioned my frequent absence,
as though she had been in haste to supply my place. "Ah!" said I, my
heart bursting with the most poignant grief, "what do you dare to inform
me of? Is this the reward of an attachment like mine? Have you so many
times preserved my life, for the sole purpose of taking from me all that
could render it desirable? Your infidelity will bring me to the grave,
but you will regret my loss!" She answered with a tranquillity
sufficient to distract me, that I talked like a child; that people did
not die from such slight causes; that our friendship need be no less
sincere, nor we any less intimate, for that her tender attachment to me
could neither diminish nor end but with herself; in a word she gave me to
understand that my happiness need not suffer any decrease from the good
fortune of this new favorite.

Never did the purity, truth and force of my attachment to her appear more
evident; never did I feel the sincerity and honesty of my soul more
forcibly, than at that moment. I threw myself at her feet, embracing her
knees with torrents of tears. "No, madam," replied I, with the most
violent agitation, "I love you too much to disgrace you thus far, and too
truly to share you; the regret that accompanied the first acquisition of
your favors has continued to increase with my affection. I cannot
preserve them by so violent an augmentation of it. You shall ever have
my adoration: be worthy of it; to me that is more necessary than all you
can bestow. It is to you, O my dearest friend! that I resign my rights;
it is to the union of our hearts that I sacrifice my pleasure; rather
would I perish a thousand times than thus degrade her I love."

I preserved this resolution with a constancy worthy, I may say, of the
sentiment that gave it birth. From this moment I saw this beloved woman
but with the eyes of a real son. It should be remarked here, that this
resolve did not meet her private approbation, as I too well perceived;
yet she never employed the least art to make me renounce it either by
insinuating proposals, caresses, or any of those means which women so
well know how to employ without exposing themselves to violent censure,
and which seldom fail to succeed. Reduced to seek a fate independent of
hers, and not able to devise one, I passed to the other extreme, placing
my happiness so absolutely in her, that I became almost regardless of
myself. The ardent desire to see her happy, at any rate, absorbed all my
affections; it was in vain she endeavored to separate her felicity from
mine, I felt I had a part in it, spite of every impediment.

Thus those virtues whose seeds in my heart begun to spring up with my
misfortunes: they had been cultivated by study, and only waited the
fermentation of adversity to become prolific. The first-fruit of this
disinterested disposition was to put from my heart every sentiment of
hatred and envy against him who had supplanted me. I even sincerely
wished to attach myself to this young man; to form and educate him; to
make him sensible of his happiness, and, if possible, render him worthy
of it; in a word, to do for him what Anet had formerly done for me. But
the similarity of dispositions was wanting. More insinuating and
enlightened than Anet, I possessed neither his coolness, fortitude, nor
commanding strength of character, which I must have had in order to
succeed. Neither did the young man possess those qualities which Anet
found in me; such as gentleness, gratitude, and above all, the knowledge
of a want of his instructions, and an ardent desire to render them
useful. All these were wanting; the person I wished to improve, saw in
me nothing but an importunate, chattering pedant: while on the contrary
he admired his own importance in the house, measuring the services he
thought he rendered by the noise he made, and looking on his saws,
hatchets, and pick-axes, as infinitely more useful than all my old books:
and, perhaps, in this particular, he might not be altogether blamable;
but he gave himself a number of airs sufficient to make anyone die with
laughter. With the peasants he assumed the airs of a country gentleman;
presently he did as much with me, and at length with Madam de Warrens
herself. His name, Vintzenried, did not appear noble enough, he
therefore changed it to that of Monsieur de Courtilles, and by the latter
appellation he was known at Chambery, and in Maurienne, where he married.

At length this illustrious personage gave himself such airs of
consequence, that he was everything in the house, and myself nothing.
When I had the misfortune to displease him, he scolded Madam de Warrens,
and a fear of exposing her to his brutality rendered me subservient to
all his whims, so that every time he cleaved wood (an office which he
performed with singular pride) it was necessary I should be an idle
spectator and admirer of his prowess. This lad was not, however, of a
bad disposition; he loved Madam de Warrens, indeed it was impossible to
do otherwise; nor had he any aversion even to me, and when he happened to
be out of his airs would listen to our admonitions, and frankly own he
was a fool; yet notwithstanding these acknowledgements his follies
continued in the same proportion. His knowledge was so contracted, and
his inclinations so mean, that it was useless to reason, and almost
impossible to be pleased with him. Not content with a most charming
woman, he amused himself with an old red-haired, toothless waiting-maid,
whose unwelcome service Madam de Warrens had the patience to endure,
though it was absolutely disgusting. I soon perceived this new
inclination, and was exasperated at it; but I saw something else, which
affected me yet more, and made a deeper impression on me than anything
had hitherto done; this was a visible coldness in the behavior of Madam
de Warrens towards me.

The privation I had imposed on myself, and which she affected to approve,
is one of those affronts which women scarcely ever forgive. Take the
most sensible; the most philosophic female, one the least attached to
pleasure, and slighting her favors, if within your reach, will be found
the most unpardonable crime, even though she may care nothing for the
man. This rule is certainly without exception; since a sympathy so
natural and ardent was impaired in her, by an abstinence founded only on
virtue, attachment and esteem, I no longer found with her that union of
hearts which constituted all the happiness of mine; she seldom sought me
but when we had occasion to complain of this new-comer, for when they
were agreed, I enjoyed but little of her confidence, and, at length, was
scarcely ever consulted in her affairs. She seemed pleased, indeed, with
my company, but had I passed whole days without seeing her she would
hardly have missed me.

Insensibly, I found myself desolate and alone in that house where I had
formerly been the very soul; where, if I may so express myself, I had
enjoyed a double life, and by degrees, I accustomed myself to disregard
everything that, passed, and even those who dwelt there. To avoid
continual mortifications, I shut myself up with my books, or else wept
and sighed unnoticed in the woods. This life soon became insupportable;
I felt that the presence of a woman so dear to me, while estranged from
her heart, increased my unhappiness, and was persuaded, that, ceasing to
see her, I should feel myself less cruelly separated.

I resolved, therefore, to quit the house, mentioned it to her, and she,
far from opposing my resolution, approved it. She had an acquaintance at
Grenoble, called Madam de Deybens, whose husband was on terms of
friendship with Monsieur Malby, chief Provost of Lyons. M. Deybens
proposed my educating M. Malby's children; I accepted this offer, and
departed for Lyons without causing, and almost without feeling, the least
regret at a separation, the bare idea of which, a few months before,
would have given us both the most excruciating torments.

I had almost as much knowledge as was necessary for a tutor, and
flattered myself that my method would be unexceptionable; but the year I
passed at M. Malby's was sufficient to undeceive me in that particular.
The natural gentleness of my disposition seemed calculated for the
employment, if hastiness had not been mingled with it. While things went
favorably, and I saw the pains (which I did not spare) succeed, I was an
angel; but a devil when they went contrary. If my pupils did not
understand me, I was hasty, and when they showed any symptoms of an
untoward disposition, I was so provoked that I could have killed them;
which behavior was not likely to render them either good or wise. I had
two under my care, and they were of very different tempers. St. Marie,
who was between eight and nine years old, had a good person and quick
apprehension, was giddy, lively, playful and mischievous; but his
mischief was ever good-humored. The younger one, named Condillac,
appeared stupid and fretful, was headstrong as a mule, and seemed
incapable of instruction. It may be supposed that between both I did not
want employment, yet with patience and temper I might have succeeded;
but wanting both, I did nothing worth mentioning, and my pupils profited
very little. I could only make use of three means, which are very weak,
and often pernicious with children; namely, sentiment, reasoning,
passion. I sometimes exerted myself so much with St. Marie, that I could
not refrain from tears, and wished to excite similar sensations in him;
as if it was reasonable to suppose a child could be susceptible to such
emotions. Sometimes I exhausted myself in reasoning, as if persuaded he
could comprehend me; and as he frequently formed very subtle arguments,
concluded he must be reasonable, because he bid fair to be so good a

The little Condillac was still more embarrassing; for he neither
understood, answered, nor was concerned at anything; he was of an
obstinacy beyond belief, and was never happier than when he had succeeded
in putting me in a rage; then, indeed, he was the philosopher, and I the
child. I was conscious of all my faults, studied the tempers of my
pupils, and became acquainted with them; but where was the use of seeing
the evil, without being able to apply a remedy? My penetration was
unavailing, since it never prevented any mischief; and everything I
undertook failed, because all I did to effect my designs was precisely
what I ought not to have done.

I was not more fortunate in what had only reference to myself, than in
what concerned my pupils. Madam Deybens, in recommending me to her
friend Madam de Malby, had requested her to form my manners, and endeavor
to give me an air of the world. She took some pains on this account,
wishing to teach me how to do the honors of the house; but I was so
awkward, bashful, and stupid, that she found it necessary to stop there.
This, however, did not prevent me from falling in love with her,
according to my usual custom; I even behaved in such a manner, that she
could not avoid observing it; but I never durst declare my passion; and
as the lady never seemed in a humor to make advances, I soon became weary
of my sighs and ogling, being convinced they answered no manner of

I had quite lost my inclination for little thieveries while with Madam de
Warrens; indeed, as everything belonged to me, there was nothing to
steal; besides, the elevated notions I had imbibed ought to have rendered
me in future above such meanness, and generally speaking they certainly
did so; but this rather proceeded from my having learned to conquer
temptations, than having succeeded in rooting out the propensity, and I
should even now greatly dread stealing, as in my infancy, were I yet
subject to the same inclinations. I had a proof of this at M. Malby's,
when, though surrounded by a number of little things that I could easily
have pilfered, and which appeared no temptation, I took it into my head
to covert some white Arbois wine, some glasses of which I had drank at
table, and thought delicious. It happened to be rather thick, and as I
fancied myself an excellent finer of wine, I mentioned my skill, and this
was accordingly trusted to my care, but in attempting to mend, I spoiled
it, though to the sight only, for it remained equally agreeable to the
taste. Profiting by this opportunity, I furnished myself from time to
time with a few bottles to drink in my own apartment; but unluckily,
I could never drink without eating; the difficulty lay therefore,
in procuring bread. It was impossible to make a reserve of this article,
and to have it brought by the footman was discovering myself,
and insulting the master of the house; I could not bear to purchase it
myself; how could a fine gentleman, with a sword at his side, enter a
baker's shop to buy a small loaf of bread? it was utterly impossible.
At length I recollected the thoughtless saying of a great princess, who,
on being informed that the country people had no bread, replied, "Then
let them eat pastry!" Yet even this resource was attended with a
difficulty. I sometimes went out alone for this very purpose, running
over the whole city, and passing thirty pastry cook's shops, without
daring to enter any one of them. In the first place, it was necessary
there should be only one person in the shop, and that person's
physiognomy must be so encouraging as to give me confidence to pass the
threshold; but when once the dear little cake was procured, and I shut up
in my chamber with that and a bottle of wine, taken cautiously from the
bottom of a cupboard, how much did I enjoy drinking my wine, and reading
a few pages of a novel; for when I have no company I always wish to read
while eating; it seems a substitute for society, and I dispatch
alternately a page and a morsel; 'tis indeed, as if my book dined with

I was neither dissolute nor sottish, never in my whole life having been
intoxicated with liquor; my little thefts were not very indiscreet, yet
they were discovered; the bottles betrayed me, and though no notice was
taken of it, I had no longer the management of the cellar. In all this
Monsieur Malby conducted himself with prudence and politeness, being
really a very deserving man, who, under a manner as harsh as his
employment, concealed a real gentleness of disposition and uncommon
goodness of heart: he was judicious, equitable, and (what would not be
expected from an officer of the Marechausse) very humane.

Sensible of his indulgence, I became greatly attached to him, which made
my stay at Lyons longer than it would otherwise have been; but at length,
disgusted with an employment which I was not calculated for, and a
situation of great confinement, consequently disagreeable to me, after a
year's trial, during which time I spared no pains to fulfill my
engagement, I determined to quit my pupils; being convinced I should
never succeed in educating them properly. Monsieur Malby saw this as
clearly as myself, though I am inclined to think he would never have
dismissed me had I not spared him the trouble, which was an excess of
condescension in this particular, that I certainly cannot justify.

What rendered my situation yet more insupportable was the comparison I
was continually drawing between the life I now led and that which I had
quitted; the remembrance of my dear Charmettes, my garden, trees,
fountain and orchard, but, above all, the company of her who was born to
give life and soul to every other enjoyment. On calling to mind our
pleasures and innocent life, I was seized with such oppressions and
heaviness of heart, as deprived me of the power of performing anything as
it should be. A hundred times was I tempted instantly to set off on foot
to my dear Madam de Warrens, being persuaded that could I once more see
her, I should be content to die that moment: in fine, I could no longer
resist the tender emotions which recalled me back to her, whatever it
might cost me. I accused myself of not having been sufficiently patient,
complaisant and kind; concluding I might yet live happily with her on the
terms of tender friendship, and by showing more for her than I had
hitherto done. I formed the finest projects in the world, burned to
execute them, left all, renounced everything, departed, fled, and
arriving in all the transports of my early youth, found myself once more
at her feet. Alas! I should have died there with joy, had I found in
her reception, in her embrace, or in her heart, one-quarter of what I had
formerly found there, and which I yet found the undiminished warmth of.

Fearful illusions of transitory things, how often dost thou torment us in
vain! She received me with that excellence of heart which could only die
with her; but I sought the influence there which could never be recalled,
and had hardly been half an hour with her before I was once more
convinced that my former happiness had vanished forever, and that I was
in the same melancholy situation which I had been obliged to fly from;
yet without being able to accuse any person with my unhappiness, for
Courtilles really was not to blame, appearing to see my return with more
pleasure than dissatisfaction. But how could I bear to be a secondary
person with her to whom I had been everything, and who could never cease
being such to me? How could I live an alien in that house where I had
been the child? The sight of every object that had been witness to my
former happiness, rendered the comparison yet more distressing; I should
have suffered less in any other habitation, for this incessantly recalled
such pleasing remembrances, that it was irritating the recollection of my

Consumed with vain regrets, given up to the most gloomy melancholy, I
resumed the custom of remaining alone, except at meals; shut up with my
books, I sought to give some useful diversion to my ideas, and feeling
the imminent danger of want, which I had so long dreaded, I sought means
to prepare for and receive it, when Madam de Warrens should have no other
resource. I had placed her household on a footing not to become worse;
but since my departure everything had been altered. He who now managed
her affairs was a spendthrift, and wished to make a great appearance;
such as keeping a good horse with elegant trappings; loved to appear gay
in the eyes of the neighbors, and was perpetually undertaking something
he did not understand. Her pension was taken up in advance, her rent was
in arrears, debts of every kind continued to accumulate; I could plainly
foresee that her pension would be seized, and perhaps suppressed; in
short, I expected nothing but ruin and misfortune, and the moment
appeared to approach so rapidly that I already felt all its horrors.

My closet was my only amusement, and after a tedious search for remedies
for the sufferings of my mind, I determined to seek some against the evil
of distressing circumstances, which I daily expected would fall upon us,
and returning to my old chimeras, behold me once more building castles in
the air to relieve this dear friend from the cruel extremities into which
I saw her ready to fall. I did not believe myself wise enough to shine
in the republic of letters, or to stand any chance of making a fortune by
that means; a new idea, therefore, inspired me with that confidence,
which the mediocrity of my talents could not impart.

In ceasing to teach music I had not abandoned the thoughts of it; on the
contrary, I had studied the theory sufficiently to consider myself well
informed on the subject. When reflecting on the trouble it had cost me
to read music, and the great difficulty I yet experienced in singing at
sight, I began to think the fault might as well arise from the manner of
noting as from my own dulness, being sensible it was an art which most
people find difficult to understand. By examining the formation of the
signs, I was convinced they were frequently very ill devised. I had
before thought of marking the gamut by figures, to prevent the trouble of
having lines to draw, on noting the plainest air; but had been stopped by
the difficulty of the octaves, and by the distinction of measure and
quantity: this idea returned again to my mind, and on a careful revision
of it, I found the difficulties by no means insurmountable. I pursued it
successfully, and was at length able to note any music whatever by
figures, with the greatest exactitude and simplicity. From this moment I
supposed my fortune made, and in the ardor of sharing it with her to whom
I owed everything, thought only of going to Paris, not doubting that on
presenting my project to the Academy, it would be adopted with rapture.
I had brought some money from Lyons; I augmented this stock by the sale
of my books, and in the course of a fortnight my resolution was both
formed and executed: in short, full of the magnificent ideas it had
inspired, and which were common to me on every occasion, I departed from
Savoy with my new system of music, as I had formerly done from Turin with
my heron-fountain.

Such have been the errors and faults of my youth; I have related the
history of them with a fidelity which my heart approves; if my riper
years were dignified with some virtues, I should have related them with
the same frankness; it was my intention to have done this, but I must
forego this pleasing task and stop here. Time, which renders justice to
the characters of most men, may withdraw the veil; and should my memory
reach posterity, they may one day discover what I had to say--they will
then understand why I am now silent.


All animals are distrustful of man, and with reason
Ardor for learning became so far a madness
Conversations were more serviceable than his prescriptions
Finding in every disease symptoms similar to mine
First time in my life, of saying, "I merit my own esteem"
Looking on each day as the last of my life
Making their knowledge the measure of possibilities
Men, in general, make God like themselves
One of those affronts which women scarcely ever forgive
Prescriptions serve to flatter the hopes of the patient
Read description of any malady without thinking it mine
Read without studying
Return of spring seemed to me like rising from the grave
Slighting her favors, if within your reach, a unpardonable crime
True happiness is indescribable, it is only to be felt

(In 12 books)

Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society

London, 1903


After two years' silence and patience, and notwithstanding my
resolutions, I again take up my pen: Reader, suspend your judgment
as to the reasons which force me to such a step: of these you can be no
judge until you shall have read my book.

My peaceful youth has been seen to pass away calmly and agreeably without
any great disappointments or remarkable prosperity. This mediocrity was
mostly owing to my ardent yet feeble nature, less prompt in undertaking
than easy to discourage; quitting repose for violent agitations, but
returning to it from lassitude and inclinations, and which, placing me in
an idle and tranquil state for which alone I felt I was born, at a
distance from the paths of great virtues and still further from those of
great vices, never permitted me to arrive at anything great, either good
or bad. What a different account will I soon have to give of myself!
Fate, which for thirty years forced my inclinations, for thirty others
has seemed to oppose them; and this continued opposition, between my
situation and inclinations, will appear to have been the source of
enormous faults, unheard of misfortunes, and every virtue except that
fortitude which alone can do honor to adversity.

The history of the first part of my life was written from memory, and is
consequently full of errors. As I am obliged to write the second part
from memory also, the errors in it will probably be still more numerous.
The agreeable remembrance of the finest portion of my years, passed with
so much tranquillity and innocence, has left in my heart a thousand
charming impressions which I love incessantly to call to my recollection.
It will soon appear how different from these those of the rest of my life
have been. To recall them to my mind would be to renew their bitterness.
Far from increasing that of my situation by these sorrowful reflections,
I repel them as much as possible, and in this endeavor often succeed so
well as to be unable to find them at will. This facility of forgetting
my misfortunes is a consolation which Heaven has reserved to me in the
midst of those which fate has one day to accumulate upon my head. My
memory, which presents to me no objects but such as are agreeable, is the
happy counterpoise of my terrified imagination, by which I foresee
nothing but a cruel futurity.

All the papers I had collected to aid my recollection, and guide me in
this undertaking, are no longer in my possession, nor can I ever again
hope to regain them.

I have but one faithful guide on which I can depend: this is the chain of
the sentiments by which the succession of my existence has been marked,
and by these the events which have been either the cause or the effect of
the manner of it. I easily forget my misfortunes, but I cannot forget my
faults, and still less my virtuous sentiments. The remembrance of these
is too dear to me ever to suffer them to be effaced from my mind. I may
omit facts, transpose events, and fall into some errors of dates; but I
cannot be deceived in what I have felt, nor in that which from sentiment
I have done; and to relate this is the chief end of my present work. The
real object of my confessions is to communicate an exact knowledge of
what I interiorly am and have been in every situation of my life. I have
promised the history of my mind, and to write it faithfully I have no
need of other memoirs: to enter into my own heart, as I have hitherto
done, will alone be sufficient.

There is, however, and very happily, an interval of six or seven years,
relative to which I have exact references, in a collection of letters
copied from the originals, in the hands of M. du Peyrou. This
collection, which concludes in 1760, comprehends the whole time of my
residence at the hermitage, and my great quarrel with those who called
themselves my friends; that memorable epocha of my life, and the source
of all my other misfortunes. With respect to more recent original
letters which may remain in my possession, and are but few in number,
instead of transcribing them at the end of this collection, too
voluminous to enable me to deceive the vigilance of my Arguses, I will
copy them into the work whenever they appear to furnish any explanation,
be this either for or against myself; for I am not under the least
apprehension lest the reader should forget I make my confession, and be
induced to believe I make my apology; but he cannot expect I shall
conceal the truth when it testifies in my favor.


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