Book: The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, Book VI.
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Jean Jacques Rousseau >> The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, Book VI.
THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
(In 12 books)
Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society
London, 1903
BOOK VI.
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
moment.
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
freely.
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.