Book: The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, Book V.
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Jean Jacques Rousseau >> The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, Book V.
THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
(In 12 books)
Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society
London, 1903
BOOK V.
It was, I believe, in 1732, that I arrived at Chambery, as already
related, and began my employment of registering land for the king. I was
almost twenty-one, my mind well enough formed for my age, with respect to
sense, but very deficient in point of judgment, and needing every
instruction from those into whose hands I fell, to make me conduct myself
with propriety; for a few years' experience had not been able to cure me
radically of my romantic ideas; and notwithstanding the ills I had
sustained, I knew as little of the world, or mankind, as if I had never
purchased instruction. I slept at home, that is, at the house of Madam
de Warrens; but it was not as at Annecy: here were no gardens, no brook,
no landscape; the house was dark and dismal, and my apartment the most
gloomy of the whole. The prospect a dead wall, an alley instead of a
street, confined air, bad light, small rooms, iron bars, rats, and a
rotten floor; an assemblage of circumstances that do not constitute a
very agreeable habitation; but I was in the same house with my best
friend, incessantly near her, at my desk, or in chamber, so that I could
not perceive the gloominess of my own, or have time to think of it.
It may appear whimsical that she should reside at Chambery on purpose to
live in this disagreeable house; but it was a trait of contrivance which
I ought not to pass over in silence. She had no great inclination for a
journey to Turin, fearing that after the recent revolutions, and the
agitation in which the court yet was, she should not be very favorably
received there; but her affairs seemed to demand her presence, as she
feared being forgotten or ill-treated, particularly as the Count de
Saint-Laurent, Intendent-general of the Finances, was not in her
interest. He had an old house in Chambery, ill-built, and standing in so
disagreeable a situation that it was always untenanted; she hired, and
settled in this house, a plan that succeeded much better than a journey
to Turin would have done, for her pension was not suppressed, and the
Count de Saint-Laurent was ever after one of her best friends.
Her household was much on the old footing; her faithful Claude Anet still
remained with her. He was, as I have before mentioned, a peasant of
Moutru, who in his childhood had gathered herbs in Jura for the purpose
of making Swiss tea; she had taken him into her service for his knowledge
of drugs, finding it convenient to have a herbalist among her domestics.
Passionately fond of the study of plants, he became a real botanist, and
had he not died young, might have acquired as much fame in that science
as he deserved for being an honest man. Serious even to gravity, and
older than myself, he was to me a kind of tutor, commanding respect, and
preserving me from a number of follies, for I dared not forget myself
before him. He commanded it likewise from his mistress, who knew his
understanding, uprightness, and inviolable attachment to herself, and
returned it. Claude Anet was of an uncommon temper. I never encountered
a similar disposition: he was slow, deliberate, and circumspect in his
conduct; cold in his manner; laconic and sententious in his discourse;
yet of an impetuosity in his passions, which (though careful to conceal)
preyed upon him inwardly, and urged him to the only folly he ever
committed; that folly, indeed was terrible, it was poisoning himself.
This tragic scene passed soon after my arrival, and opened my eyes to the
intimacy that subsisted between Claude Anet and his mistress, for had not
the information come from her, I should never have suspected it; yet,
surely, if attachment, fidelity, and zeal, could merit such a recompense,
it was due to him, and what further proves him worthy such a distinction,
he never once abused her confidence. They seldom disputed, and their
disagreements ever ended amicably; one, indeed, was not so fortunate;
his mistress, in a passion, said something affronting, which not being
able to digest, he consulted only with despair, and finding a bottle of
laudanum at hand, drank it off; then went peaceably to bed, expecting to
awake no more. Madam de Warrens herself was uneasy, agitated, wandering
about the house and happily--finding the phial empty--guessed the rest.
Her screams, while flying to his assistance, alarmed me; she confessed
all, implored my help, and was fortunate enough, after repeated efforts,
to make him throw up the laudanum. Witness of this scene, I could not
but wonder at my stupidity in never having suspected the connection; but
Claude Anet was so discreet, that a more penetrating observer might have
been deceived. Their reconciliation affected me, and added respect to
the esteem I before felt for him. From this time I became, in some
measure, his pupil, nor did I find myself the worse for his instruction.
I could not learn, without pain, that she lived in greater intimacy with
another than with myself: it was a situation I had not even thought of,
but (which was very natural) it hurt me to see another in possession of
it. Nevertheless, instead of feeling any aversion to the person who had
this advantage over me, I found the attachment I felt for her actually
extend to him. I desired her happiness above all things, and since he
was concerned in her plan of felicity, I was content he should be happy
likewise. Meantime he perfectly entered into the views of his mistress;
conceived a sincere friendship for me, and without affecting the
authority his situation might have entitled him to, he naturally
possessed that which his superior judgment gave him over mine. I dared
do nothing he disproved of, but he was sure to disapprove only what
merited disapprobation: thus we lived in an union which rendered us
mutually happy, and which death alone could dissolve.
One proof of the excellence of this amiable woman's character, is, that
all those who loved her, loved each other; even jealousy and rivalship
submitting to the more powerful sentiment with which she inspired them,
and I never saw any of those who surrounded her entertain the least ill
will among themselves. Let the reader pause a moment on this encomium,
and if he can recollect any other woman who deserves it, let him attach
himself to her, if he would obtain happiness.
From my arrival at Chambery to my departure for Paris, 1741, included an
interval of eight or nine years, during which time I have few adventures
to relate; my life being as simple as it was agreeable. This uniformity
was precisely what was most wanting to complete the formation of my
character, which continual troubles had prevented from acquiring any
degree of stability. It was during this pleasing interval, that my
unconnected, unfinished education, gained consistence, and made me what I
have unalterably remained amid the storms with which I have since been
surrounded.
The progress was slow, almost imperceptible, and attended by few
memorable circumstances; yet it deserves to be followed and investigated.
At first, I was wholly occupied with my business, the constraint of a
desk left little opportunity for other thoughts, the small portion of
time I was at liberty was passed with my dear Madam de Warrens, and not
having leisure to read, I felt no inclination for it; but when my
business (by daily repetition) became familiar, and my mind was less
occupied, study again became necessary, and (as my desires were ever
irritated by any difficulty that opposed the indulgence of them) might
once more have become a passion, as at my master's, had not other
inclinations interposed and diverted it.
Though our occupation did not demand a very profound skill in arithmetic,
it sometimes required enough to puzzle me. To conquer this difficulty,
I purchased books which treated on that science, and learned well, for I
now studied alone. Practical arithmetic extends further than is usually
supposed if you would attain exact precision. There are operations of
extreme length in which I have sometimes seen good geometricians lose
themselves. Reflection, assisted by practice, gives clear ideas, and
enables you to devise shorter methods, these inventions flatter our
self-complacency, while their exactitude satisfies our understanding, and
renders a study pleasant, which is, of itself, heavy and unentertaining.
At length I became so expert as not to be puzzled by any question that
was solvable by arithmetical calculation; and even now, while everything
I formerly knew fades daily on my memory, this acquirement, in a great
measure remains, through an interval of thirty years. A few days ago,
in a journey I made to Davenport, being with my host at an arithmetical
lesson given his children, I did (with pleasure, and without errors) a
most complicated work. While setting down my figures, methought I was
still at Chambery, still in my days of happiness--how far had I to look
back for them!
The colored plans of our geometricians had given me a taste for drawing:
accordingly I bought colors, and began by attempting flowers and
landscapes. It was unfortunate that I had not talents for this art,
for my inclination was much disposed to it, and while surrounded with
crayons, pencils, and colors, I could have passed whole months without
wishing to leave them. This amusement engaged me so much that they were
obliged to force me from it; and thus it is with every inclination I give
into, it continues to augment, till at length it becomes so powerful,
that I lose sight of everything except the favorite amusement. Years
have not been able to cure me of that fault, nay, have not even
diminished it; for while I am writing this, behold me, like an old
dotard, infatuated with another, to me useless study, which I do not
understand, and which even those who have devoted their youthful days to
the acquisition of, are constrained to abandon, at the age I am beginning
with it.
At that time, the study I am now speaking of would have been well placed,
the opportunity was good, and I had some temptation to profit by it; for
the satisfaction I saw in the eyes of Anet, when he came home loaded with
new discovered plants, set me two or three times on the point of going to
herbalize with him, and I am almost certain that had I gone once,
I should have been caught, and perhaps at this day might have been an
excellent botanist, for I know no study more congenial to my natural
inclination, than that of plants; the life I have led for these ten years
past, in the country, being little more than a continual herbalizing,
though I must confess, without object, and without improvement; but at
the time I am now speaking of I had no inclination for botany, nay,
I even despised, and was disgusted at the idea, considering it only as a
fit study for an apothecary. Madam de Warrens was fond of it merely for
this purpose, seeking none but common plants to use in her medical
preparations; thus botany, chemistry, and anatomy were confounded in my
idea under the general denomination of medicine, and served to furnish me
with pleasant sarcasms the whole day, which procured me, from time to
time, a box on the ear, applied by Madam de Warrens. Besides this, a
very contrary taste grew up with me, and by degrees absorbed all others;
this was music. I was certainly born for that science, I loved it from
my infancy, and it was the only inclination I have constantly adhered to;
but it is astonishing that what nature seemed to have designed me for
should have cost so much pains to learn, and that I should acquire it so
slowly, that after a whole life spent in the practice of this art,
I could never attain to sing with any certainty at sight. What rendered
the study of music more agreeable to me at that time, was, being able to
practise it with Madam de Warrens. In other respects our tastes were
widely different: this was a point of coincidence, which I loved to avail
myself of. She had no more objection to this than myself. I knew at
that time almost as much of it as she did, and after two or three
efforts, we could make shift to decipher an air. Sometimes, when I saw
her busy at her furnace, I have said, "Here now is a charming duet, which
seems made for the very purpose of spoiling your drugs;" her answer would
be, "If you make me burn them, I'll make you eat them:" thus disputing, I
drew her to the harpsichord; the furnace was presently forgotten, the
extract of juniper or wormwood calcined (which I cannot recollect without
transport), and these scenes usually ended by her smearing my face with
the remains of them.
It may easily be conjectured that I had plenty of employment to fill up
my leisure hours; one amusement, however, found room, that was well worth
all the rest.
We lived in such a confined dungeon, that it was necessary sometimes to
breathe the open air; Anet, therefore, engaged Madam de Warrens to hire a
garden in the suburbs, both for this purpose and the convenience of
rearing plants, etc.; to this garden was added a summer--house, which was
furnished in the customary manner; we sometimes dined, and I frequently
slept, there. Insensibly I became attached to this little retreat,
decorated it with books and prints, spending part of my time in
ornamenting it during the absence of Madam de Warrens, that I might
surprise her the more agreeably on her return. Sometimes I quitted this
dear friend, that I might enjoy the uninterrupted pleasure of thinking on
her; this was a caprice I can neither excuse nor fully explain, I only
know this really was the case, and therefore I avow it. I remember Madam
de Luxembourg told me one day in raillery, of a man who used to leave his
mistress that he might enjoy the satisfaction of writing to her; I
answered, I could have been this man; I might have added, That I had done
the very same.
I did not, however, find it necessary to leave Madam de Warrens that I
might love her the more ardently, for I was ever as perfectly free with
her as when alone; an advantage I never enjoyed with any other person,
man or woman, however I might be attached to them; but she was so often
surrounded by company who were far from pleasing me, that spite and
weariness drove me to this asylum, where I could indulge the idea,
without danger of being interrupted by impertinence. Thus, my time being
divided between business, pleasure, and instruction, my life passed in
the most absolute serenity. Europe was not equally tranquil: France and
the emperor had mutually declared war, the King of Sardinia had entered
into the quarrel, and a French army had filed off into Piedmont to awe
the Milanese. Our division passed through Chambery, and, among others,
the regiment of Champaigne, whose colonel was the Duke de la Trimouille,
to whom I was presented. He promised many things, but doubtless never
more thought of me. Our little garden was exactly at the end of the
suburb by which the troops entered, so that I could fully satisfy my
curiosity in seeing them pass, and I became as anxious for the success of
the war as if it had nearly concerned me. Till now I had never troubled
myself about politics, for the first time I began reading the gazettes,
but with so much partiality on the side of France, that my heart beat
with rapture on its most trifling advantages, and I was as much afflicted
on a reverse of fortune, as if I had been particularly concerned.
Had this folly been transient, I should not, perhaps, have mentioned it,
but it took such root in my heart (without any reasonable cause) that
when I afterwards acted the anti-despot and proud republican at Paris, in
spite of myself, I felt a secret predilection for the nation I declared
servile, and for that government I affected to oppose. The pleasantest
of all was that, ashamed of an inclination so contrary to my professed
maxims, I dared not own it to any one, but rallied the French on their
defeats, while my heart was more wounded than their own. I am certainly
the first man, that, living with a people who treated him well, and whom
he almost adored, put on, even in their own country, a borrowed air of
despising them; yet my original inclination is so powerful, constant,
disinterested, and invincible, that even since my quitting that kingdom,
since its government, magistrates, and authors, have outvied each other
in rancor against me, since it has become fashionable to load me with
injustice and abuse, I have not been able to get rid of this folly, but
notwithstanding their ill-treatment, love them in spite of myself.
I long sought the cause of this partiality, but was never able to find
any, except in the occasion that gave it birth. A rising taste for
literature attached me to French books, to their authors, and their
country: at the very moment the French troops were passing Chambery, I
was reading Brantome's 'Celebrated Captains'; my head was full of the
Clissons, Bayards, Lautrecs Colignys, Monlmoreneys, and Trimouille, and I
loved their descendants as the heirs of their merit and courage. In each
regiment that passed by methought I saw those famous black bands who had
formerly done so many noble exploits in Piedmont; in fine, I applied to
these all the ideas I had gathered from books; my reading continued,
which, still drawn from the same nation, nourished my affection for that
country, till, at length, it became a blind passion, which nothing could
overcome. I have had occasion to remark several times in the course of
my travels, that this impression was not peculiar to me for France, but
was more or less active in every country, for that part of the nation who
were fond of literature, and cultivated learning; and it was this
consideration that balanced in my mind the general hatred which the
conceited air of the French is so apt to inspire. Their romances, more
than their men, attract the women of all countries, and the celebrated
dramatic pieces of France create a fondness in youth for their theaters;
the reputation which that of Paris in particular has acquired, draws to
it crowds of strangers, who return enthusiasts to their own country: in
short, the excellence of their literature captivates the senses, and in
the unfortunate war just ended, I have seen their authors and
philosophers maintain the glory of France, so tarnished by its warriors.
I was, therefore, an ardent Frenchman; this rendered me a politician, and
I attended in the public square, amid a throng of news-mongers, the
arrival of the post, and, sillier than the ass in the fable, was very
uneasy to know whose packsaddle I should next have the honor to carry,
for it was then supposed we should belong to France, and that Savoy would
be exchanged for Milan. I must confess, however, that I experienced some
uneasiness, for had this war terminated unfortunately for the allies, the
pension of Madam de Warrens would have been in a dangerous situation;
nevertheless, I had great confidence in my good friends, the French, and
for once (in spite of the surprise of M. de Broglio) my confidence was
not ill-founded--thanks to the King of Sardinia, whom I had never thought
of.
While we were fighting in Italy, they were singing in France: the operas
of Rameau began to make a noise there, and once more raise the credit of
his theoretic works, which, from their obscurity, were within the compass
of very few understandings. By chance I heard of his 'Treatise on
Harmony', and had no rest till I purchased it. By another chance I fell
sick; my illness was inflammatory, short and violent, but my
convalescence was tedious, for I was unable to go abroad for a whole
month. During this time I eagerly ran over my Treatise on Harmony, but
it was so long, so diffuse, and so badly disposed, that I found it would
require a considerable time to unravel it: accordingly I suspended my
inclination, and recreated my sight with music.
The cantatas of Bernier were what I principally exercised myself with.
These were never out of my mind; I learned four or five by heart, and
among the rest, 'The Sleeping Cupids', which I have never seen since that
time, though I still retain it almost entirely; as well as 'Cupid Stung
by a Bee', a very pretty cantata by Clerambault, which I learned about
the same time.
To complete me, there arrived a young organist from Valdoste, called the
Abbe Palais, a good musician and an agreeable companion, who performed
very well on the harpsichord; I got acquainted with him, and we soon
became inseparable. He had been brought up by an Italian monk, who was a
capital organist. He explained to me his principles of music, which I
compared with Rameau; my head was filled with accompaniments, concords
and harmony, but as it was necessary to accustom the ear to all this, I
proposed to Madam de Warrens having a little concert once a month, to
which she consented.
Behold me then so full of this concert, that night or day I could think
of nothing else, and it actually employed a great part of my time to
select the music, assemble the musicians, look to the instruments, and
write out the several parts. Madam de Warrens sang; Father Cato (whom I
have before mentioned, and shall have occasion to speak of again) sang
likewise; a dancing--master named Roche, and his son, played on the
violin; Canavas, a Piedmontese musician (who was employed like myself in
the survey, and has since married at Paris), played on the violoncello;
the Abbe Palais performed on the harpsichord, and I had the honor to
conduct the whole. It may be supposed all this was charming; I cannot
say it equalled my concert at Monsieur de Tretoren's, but certainly it
was not far behind it.
This little concert, given by Madam de Warrens, the new convert, who
lived (it was expressed) on the king's charity, made the whole tribe of
devotees murmur, but was a very agreeable amusement to several worthy
people, at the head of whom it would not be easily surmised that I should
place a monk; yet, though a monk, a man of considerable merit, and even
of a very amiable disposition, whose subsequent misfortunes gave me the
most lively concern, and whose idea, attached to that of my happy days,
is yet dear to my memory. I speak of Father Cato, a Cordelier, who, in
conjunction with the Count d'Ortan, had caused the music of poor Le
Maitre to be seized at Lyons; which action was far from being the
brightest trait in his history. He was a Bachelor of Sorbonne, had lived
long in Paris among the great world, and was particularly caressed by the
Marquis d'Antremont, then Ambassador from Sardinia. He was tall and well
made; full faced, with very fine eyes, and black hair, which formed
natural curls on each side of his forehead. His manner was at once
noble, open, and modest; he presented himself with ease and good manners,
having neither the hypocritical nor impudent behavior of a monk, or the
forward assurance of a fashionable coxcomb, but the manners of a
well-bred man, who, without blushing for his habit, set a value on
himself, and ever felt in his proper situation when in good company.
Though Father Cato was not deeply studied for a doctor, he was much so
for a man of the world, and not being compelled to show his talents, he
brought them forward so advantageously that they appeared greater than
they really were. Having lived much in the world, he had rather
attached himself to agreeable acquirements than to solid learning; had
sense, made verses, spoke well, sang better, and aided his good voice by
playing on the organ and harpsichord. So many pleasing qualities were
not necessary to make his company sought after, and, accordingly, it was
very much so, but this did not make him neglect the duties of his
function: he was chosen (in spite of his jealous competitors) Definitor
of his Province, or, according to them, one of the greatest pillars of
their order.
Father Cato became acquainted with Madam de Warrens at the Marquis of
Antremont's; he had heard of her concerts, wished to assist at them, and
by his company rendered our meetings truly agreeable. We were soon
attached to each other by our mutual taste for music, which in both was a
most lively passion, with this difference, that he was really a musician,
and myself a bungler. Sometimes assisted by Canavas and the Abbe Palais,
we had music in his apartment; or on holidays at his organ, and
frequently dined with him; for, what was very astonishing in a monk,
he was generous, profuse, and loved good cheer, without the least
tincture of greediness. After our concerts, he always used to stay to
supper, and these evenings passed with the greatest gayety and
good-humor; we conversed with the utmost freedom, and sang duets; I was
perfectly at my ease, had sallies of wit and merriment; Father Cato was
charming, Madam de Warrens adorable, and the Abbe Palais, with his rough
voice, was the butt of the company. Pleasing moments of sportive youth,
how long since have ye fled!