Book: The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, Complete

J >> Jean Jacques Rousseau >> The Confessions of J. J. Rousseau, Complete




M. le Maitre, like most of his profession, loved good wine; at table he
was moderate, but when busy in his closet he must drink. His maid was so
well acquainted with this humor that no sooner had he prepared his paper
to compose, and taken his violoncello, than the bottle and glass arrived,
and was replenished from time to time: thus, without being ever
absolutely intoxicated, he was usually in a state of elevation. This was
really unfortunate, for he had a good heart, and was so playful that
Madam de Warrens used to call him the kitten. Unhappily, he loved his
profession, labored much and drank proportionately, which injured his
health, and at length soured his temper. Sometimes he was gloomy and
easily offended, though incapable of rudeness, or giving offence to any
one, for never did he utter a harsh word, even to the boys of the choir:
on the other hand, he would not suffer another to offend him, which was
but just: the misfortune was, having little understanding, he did not
properly discriminate, and was often angry without cause.

The Chapter of Geneva, where so many princes and bishops formerly thought
it an honor to be seated, though in exile it lost its ancient splendor,
retained (without any diminution) its pride. To be admitted, you must
either be a gentleman or Doctor of Sorbonne. If there is a pardonable
pride, after that derived from personal merit, it is doubtless that
arising from birth, though, in general, priests having laymen in their
service treat them with sufficient haughtiness, and thus the canons
behaved to poor Le Maitre. The chanter, in particular, who was called
the Abbe de Vidonne, in other respects a well-behaved man, but too full
of his nobility, did not always show him the attention his talents
merited. M. le Maitre could not bear these indignities patiently;
and this year, during passion week, they had a more serious dispute than
ordinary. At an institution dinner that the bishop gave the canons, and
to which M. Maitre was always invited, the abbe failed in some formality,
adding, at the same time, some harsh words, which the other could not
digest; he instantly formed the resolution to quit them the following
night; nor could any consideration make him give up his design, though
Madam de Warrens (whom he went to take leave of) spared no pains to
appease him. He could not relinquish the pleasure of leaving his tyrants
embarrassed for the Easter feast, at which time he knew they stood in
greatest need of him. He was most concerned about his music, which he
wished to take with him; but this could not easily be accomplished, as it
filled a large case, and was very heavy, and could not be carried under
the arm.

Madam de Warrens did what I should have done in her situation; and
indeed, what I should yet do: after many useless efforts to retain him,
seeing he was resolved to depart, whatever might be the event, she formed
the resolution to give him every possible assistance. I must confess Le
Maitre deserved it of her, for he was (if I may use the expression)
dedicated to her service, in whatever appertained to either his art or
knowledge, and the readiness with which he obliged gave a double value to
his complaisance: thus she only paid back, on an essential occasion, the
many favors he had been long conferring on her; though I should observe,
she possessed a soul that, to fulfill such duties, had no occasion to be
reminded of previous obligations. Accordingly she ordered me to follow
Le Maitre to Lyons, and to continue with him as long as he might have
occasion for my services. She has since avowed, that a desire of
detaching me from Venture had a great hand in this arrangement. She
consulted Claude Anet about the conveyance of the above-mentioned case.
He advised, that instead of hiring a beast at Annecy, which would
infallibly discover us, it would be better, at night, to take it to some
neighboring village, and there hire an ass to carry it to Seyssel, which
being in the French dominions, we should have nothing to fear. This plan
was adopted; we departed the same night at seven, and Madam de Warrens,
under pretense of paying my expenses, increased the purse of poor Le
Maitre by an addition that was very acceptable. Claude Anet, the
gardiner, and myself, carried the case to the first village, then hired
an ass, and the same night reached Seyssel.

I think I have already remarked that there are times in which I am so
unlike myself that I might be taken for a man of a direct opposite
disposition; I shall now give an example of this. M. Reydelet, curate of
Seyssel, was canon of St. Peter's, consequently known to M. le Maitre,
and one of the people from whom he should have taken most pains to
conceal himself; my advice, on the contrary, was to present ourselves to
him, and, under some pretext, entreat entertainment as if we visited him
by consent of the chapter. Le Maitre adopted the idea, which seemed to
give his revenge the appearance of satire and waggery; in short, we went
boldly to Reydelet, who received us very kindly. Le Maitre told him he
was going to Bellay by desire of the bishop, that he might superintend
the music during the Easter holidays, and that he proposed returning that
way in a few days. To support this tale, I told a hundred others, so
naturally that M. Reydelet thought me a very agreeable youth, and treated
me with great friendship and civility. We were well regaled and well
lodged: M. Reydelet scarcely knew how to make enough of us; and we parted
the best friends in the world, with a promise to stop longer on our
return. We found it difficult to refrain from laughter, or wait till we
were alone to give free vent to our mirth: indeed, even now, the bare
recollection of it forces a smile, for never was waggery better or more
fortunately maintained. This would have made us merry during the
remainder of our journey, if M. le Maitre (who did not cease drinking)
had not been two or three times attacked with a complaint that he
afterwards became very subject to, and which resembled an epilepsy.
These fits threw me into the most fearful embarrassments, from which I
resolved to extricate myself with the first opportunity.

According to the information given to M. Reydelet, we passed our Easter
holidays at Bellay, and though not expected there, were received by the
music--master, and welcomed by every one with great pleasure. M. le
Maitre was of considerable note in his profession, and, indeed, merited
that distinction. The music-master of Bellay (who was fond of his own
works) endeavored to obtain the approbation of so good a judge; for
besides being a connoisseur, M. le Maitre was equitable, neither a
jealous, ill-natured critic, nor a servile flatterer. He was so superior
to the generality of country music-masters and they were so sensible of
it, that they treated him rather as their chief than a brother musician.

Having passed four or five days very agreeably at Bellay, we departed,
and continuing our journey without meeting with any accidents, except
those I have just spoken of, arrived at Lyons, and were lodged at Notre
Dame de Pitie. While we waited for the arrival of the before-mentioned
case (which by the assistance of another lie, and the care of our good
patron, M. Reydelet, we had embarked on the Rhone) M. le Maitre went to
visit his acquaintance, and among others Father Cato, a Cordelier, who
will be spoken of hereafter, and the Abbe Dortan, Count of Lyons, both of
whom received him well, but afterwards betrayed him, as will be seen
presently; indeed, his good fortune terminated with M. Reydelet.

Two days after our arrival at Lyons, as we passed a little street not far
from our inn, Le Maitre was attacked by one of his fits; but it was now
so violent as to give me the utmost alarm. I screamed with terror,
called for help, and naming our inn, entreated some one to bear him to
it, then (while the people were assembled, and busy round a man that had
fallen senseless in the street) he was abandoned by the only friend on
whom he could have any reasonable dependence; I seized the instant when
no one heeded me, turned the corner of the street and disappeared.
Thanks to Heaven, I have made my third painful confession; if many such
remained, I should certainly abandon the work I have undertaken.

Of all the incidents I have yet related, a few traces are remaining in
the places where I have lived; but what I have to relate in the following
book is almost entirely unknown; these are the greatest extravagancies of
my life, and it is happy they had not worse conclusions. My head, (if I
may use the simile) screwed up to the pitch of an instrument it did not
naturally accord with, had lost its diapason; in time it returned to it
again, when I discontinued my follies, or at least gave in to those more
consonant to my disposition. This epoch of my youth I am least able to
recollect, nothing having passed sufficiently interesting to influence my
heart, to make me clearly retrace the remembrance. In so many successive
changes, it is difficult not to make some transpositions of time or
place. I write absolutely from memory, without notes or materials to
help my recollection. Some events are as fresh in my idea as if they had
recently happened, but there are certain chasms which I cannot fill up
but by the aid of recital, as confused as the remaining traces of those
to which they refer. It is possible, therefore, that I may have erred in
trifles, and perhaps shall again, but in every matter of importance I can
answer that the account is faithfully exact, and with the same veracity
the reader may depend I shall be careful to continue it.

My resolution was soon taken after quitting Le Maitre; I set out
immediately for Annecy. The cause and mystery of our departure had
interested me for the security of our retreat: this interest, which
entirely employed my thoughts for some days, had banished every other
idea; but no sooner was I secure and in tranquility, than my predominant
sentiment regained its place. Nothing flattered, nothing tempted me, I
had no wish but to return to Madam de Warrens; the tenderness and truth
of my attachment to her had rooted from my heart every imaginable
project, and all the follies of ambition, I conceived no happiness but
living near her, nor could I take a step without feeling that the
distance between us was increased. I returned, therefore, as soon as
possible, with such speed, and with my spirits in such a state of
agitation, that though I recall with pleasure all my other travels, I
have not the least recollection of this, only remembering my leaving
Lyons and reaching Annecy. Let anyone judge whether this last event can
have slipped my memory, when informed that on my arrival I found Madam de
Warrens was not there, having set out for Paris.

I was never well informed of the motives of this journey. I am certain
she would have told me had I asked her, but never was man less curious to
learn the secrets of his friend. My heart is ever so entirely filled
with the present, or with past pleasures, which become a principal part
of my enjoyment, that there is not a chink or corner for curiosity to
enter. All that I conceive from what I heard of it, is, that in the
revolution caused at Turin by the abdication of the King of Sardinia,
she feared being forgotten, and was willing by favor of the intrigues of
M. d' Aubonne to seek the same advantage in the court of France, where
she has often told me she should, have preferred it, as the multiplicity
of business there prevents your conduct from being so closely inspected.
If this was her business, it is astonishing that on her return she was
not ill received; be that as it will, she continued to enjoy her
allowance without any interruption. Many people imagined she was charged
with some secret commission, either by the bishop, who then had business
at the court of France, where he himself was soon after obliged to go,
or some one yet more powerful, who knew how to insure her a gracious
reception at her return. If this was the case, it is certain the
ambassadress was not ill chosen, since being young and handsome, she had
all the necessary qualifications to succeed in a negotiation.





THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
(In 12 books)

Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society

London, 1903



BOOK IV.


Let any one judge my surprise and grief at not finding her on my arrival.
I now felt regret at having abandoned M. le Maitre, and my uneasiness
increased when I learned the misfortunes that had befallen him. His box
of music, containing all his fortune, that precious box, preserved with
so much care and fatigue, had been seized on at Lyons by means of Count
Dortan, who had received information from the Chapter of our having
absconded with it. In vain did Le Maitre reclaim his property, his means
of existence, the labor of his life; his right to the music in question
was at least subject to litigation, but even that liberty was not allowed
him, the affair being instantly decided on the principal of superior
strength. Thus poor Le Maitre lost the fruit of his talents, the labor
of his youth, and principal dependence for the support of old age.

Nothing was wanting to render the news I had received truly afflicting,
but I was at an age when even the greatest calamities are to be
sustained; accordingly I soon found consolation. I expected shortly
to hear news of Madam de Warrens, though I was ignorant of the address,
and she knew nothing of my return. As to my desertion of Le Maitre (all
things considered) I did not find it so very culpable. I had been
serviceable to him at his retreat; it was not in my power to give him any
further assistance. Had I remained with him in France it would not have
cured his complaint. I could not have saved his music, and should only
have doubled his expense: in this point of view I then saw my conduct;
I see it otherwise now. It frequently happens that a villainous action
does not torment us at the instant we commit it, but on recollection, and
sometimes even after a number of years have elapsed, for the remembrance
of crimes is not to be extinguished.

The only means I had to obtain news of Madam de Warrens was to remain at
Annecy. Where should I seek her in Paris? or how bear the expense of
such a journey? Sooner or later there was no place where I could be so
certain to hear of her as that I was now at; this consideration
determined me to remain there, though my conduct was very indifferent.
I did not go to the bishop, who had already befriended me, and might
continue to do so; my patroness was not present, and I feared his
reprimands on the subject of our flight; neither did I go to the
seminary, M. Graswas no longer there; in short, I went to none of my
acquaintances. I should gladly have visited the intendant's lady, but
did not dare; I did worse, I sought out M. Venture, whom (notwithstanding
my enthusiasm) I had never thought of since my departure. I found him
quite gay, in high spirits, and the universal favorite of the ladies of
Annecy.

This success completed my infatuation; I saw nothing but M. Venture; he
almost made me forget even Madam de Warrens. That I might profit more at
ease by his instructions and example, I proposed to share his lodgings,
to which he readily consented. It was at a shoemaker's; a pleasant,
jovial fellow, who, in his county dialect, called his wife nothing but
trollop; an appellation which she certainly merited. Venture took care
to augment their differences, though under an appearance of doing the
direct contrary, throwing out in a distant manner, and provincial
accents, hints that produced the utmost effect, and furnished such scenes
as were sufficient to make any one die with laughter. Thus the mornings
passed without our thinking of them; at two or three o'clock we took some
refreshment. Venture then went to his various engagements, where he
supped, while I walked alone, meditating on his great merit, coveting and
admiring his rare talents, and cursing my own unlucky stars, that did not
call me to so happy a life. How little did I then know of myself! mine
had been a thousand times more delightful, had I not been such a fool, or
known better how to enjoy it.

Madam de Warrens had taken no one with her but Anet: Merceret, the
chambermaid, whom I have before mentioned, still remained in the house.
Merceret was something older than myself, not pretty, but tolerably
agreeable; good-natured, free from malice, having no fault to my
knowledge but being a little refractory with her mistress. I often went
to see her; she was an old acquaintance, who recalled to my remembrance
one more beloved, and this made her dear to me. She had several friends,
and among others one Mademoiselle Giraud, a Genevese, who, for the
punishment of my sins, took it in her head to have an inclination for me,
always pressing Merceret, when she returned her visits, to bring me with
her. As I liked Merceret, I felt no disinclination to accompany her;
besides I met there with some young people whose company pleased me.
For Mademoiselle Giraud, who offered every kind of enticement, nothing
could increase the aversion I had for her. When she drew near me, with
her dried black snout, smeared with Spanish snuff, it was with the utmost
difficulty that I could refrain from expressing my distaste; but, being
pleased with her visitors, I took patience. Among these were two girls
who (either to pay their court to Mademoiselle Giraud or myself) paid me
every possible attention. I conceived this to be only friendship; but
have since thought it depended only on myself to have discovered
something more, though I did not even think of it at the time.

There was another reason for my stupidity. Seamstresses, chambermaids,
or milliners, never tempted me; I sighed for ladies! Every one has his
peculiar taste, this has ever been mine; being in this particular of a
different opinion from Horace. Yet it is not vanity of riches or rank
that attracts me; it is a well-preserved complexion, fine hands, elegance
of ornaments, an air of delicacy and neatness throughout the whole
person; more in taste, in the manner of expressing themselves, a finer or
better made gown, a well-turned ankle, small foot, ribbons, lace, and
well-dressed hair; I even prefer those who have less natural beauty,
provided they are elegantly decorated. I freely confess this preference
is very ridiculous; yet my heart gives in to it spite of my
understanding. Well, even this advantage presented itself, and it only
depended on my own resolution to have seized the opportunity.

How do I love, from time to time, to return to those moments of my youth,
which were so charmingly delightful; so short, so scarce, and enjoyed at
so cheap a rate!--how fondly do I wish to dwell on them! Even yet the
remembrance of these scenes warms my heart with a chaste rapture, which
appears necessary to reanimate my drooping courage, and enable me to
sustain the weariness of my latter days.

The appearance of Aurora seemed so delightful one morning that, putting
on my clothes, I hastened into the country, to see the rising of the sun.
I enjoyed that pleasure in its utmost extent; it was one week after
midsummer; the earth was covered with verdure and flowers, the
nightingales, whose soft warblings were almost concluded, seemed to vie
with each other, and in concert with birds of various kinds to bid adieu
to spring, and hail the approach of a beautiful summer's day: one of
those lovely days that are no longer to be enjoyed at my age, and which
have never been seen on the melancholy soil I now inhabit.

I had rambled insensibly, to a considerable distance from the town--the
heat augmented--I was walking in the shade along a valley, by the side of
a brook, I heard behind me the steps of horses, and the voice of some
females who, though they seemed embarrassed, did not laugh the less
heartily on that account. I turn round, hear myself called by name, and
approaching, find two young people of my acquaintance, Mademoiselle de
G---- and Mademoiselle Galley, who, not being very excellent horsewomen,
could not make their horses cross the rivulet.

Mademoiselle de G---- was a young lady of Berne, very amiable; who,
having been sent from that country for some youthful folly, had imitated
Madam de Warrens, at whose house I had sometimes seen her; but not
having, like her, a pension, she had been fortunate in this attachment to
Mademoiselle Galley, who had prevailed on her mother to engage her young
friend as a companion, till she could be otherwise provided for.
Mademoiselle Galley was one year younger than her friend, handsomer,
more delicate, more ingenious, and to complete all, extremely well made.
They loved each other tenderly, and the good disposition of both could
not fail to render their union durable, if some lover did not derange it.
They informed me they were going to Toune, an old castle belonging to
Madam Galley, and implored my assistance to make their horses cross the
stream, not being able to compass it themselves. I would have given each
a cut or two with the whip, but they feared I might be kicked, and
themselves thrown; I therefore had recourse to another expedient, I took
hold of Mademoiselle Galley's horse and led him through the brook, the
water reaching half-way up my legs. The other followed without any
difficulty. This done, I would have paid my compliments to the ladies,
and walked off like a great booby as I was, but after whispering each
other, Mademoiselle de G---- said, "No, no, you must not think to escape
thus; you have got wet in our service, and we ought in conscience to take
care and dry you. If you please you must go with us, you are now our
prisoner." My heart began to beat--I looked at Mademoiselle Galley
--"Yes, yes," added she, laughing at my fearful look; "our prisoner of war;
come, get up behind her, we shall give a good account of you."--"But,
mademoiselle," continued I, "I have not the honor to be acquainted with
your mother; what will she say on my arrival?"--"Her mother," replied
Mademoiselle de G---- is not at Toune, we are alone, we shall return at
night, and you shall come back with us."

The stroke of electricity has not a more instantaneous effect than these
words produced on me. Leaping behind Mademoiselle de G----, I trembled
with joy, and when it became necessary to clasp her in order to hold
myself on, my heart beat so violently that she perceived it, and told me
hers beat also from a fear of falling. In my present posture, I might
naturally have considered this an invitation to satisfy myself of the
truth of her assertion, yet I did not dare, and during the whole way my
arm served as a girdle (a very close one, I must confess), without being
a moment displaced. Some women that may read this would be for giving me
a box on the ear, and, truly, I deserved it.

The gayety of the journey, and the chat of these girls, so enlivened me,
that during the whole time we passed together we never ceased talking a
moment. They had set me so thoroughly at ease, that my tongue spoke as
fast as my eyes, though not exactly the same things. Some minutes,
indeed, when I was left alone with either, the conversation became a
little embarrassed, but neither of them was absent long enough to allow
time for explaining the cause.

Arrived at Toune, and myself well dried, we breakfasted together; after
which it was necessary to settle the important business of preparing
dinner. The young ladies cooked, kissing from time to time the farmer's
children, while the poor scullion looked on grumbling. Provisions had
been sent for from town, and there was everything necessary for a good
dinner, but unhappily they had forgotten wine; this forgetfulness was by
no means astonishing to girls who seldom drank any, but I was sorry for
the omission, as I had reckoned on its help, thinking it might add to my
confidence. They were sorry likewise, and perhaps from the same motive;
though I have no reason to say this, for their lively and charming gayety
was innocence itself; besides, there were two of them, what could they
expect from me? they went everywhere about the neighborhood to seek for
wine, but none could be procured, so pure and sober are the peasants in
those parts. As they were expressing their concern, I begged them not to
give themselves any uneasiness on my account, for while with them I had
no occasion for wine to intoxicate me. This was the only gallantry I
ventured at during the whole of the day, and I believe the sly rogues saw
well enough that I said nothing but the truth.

We dined in the kitchen; the two friends were seated on the benches, one
on each side the long table, and their guest at the end, between them, on
a three--legged stool. What a dinner! how charming the remembrance!
While we can enjoy, at so small an expense, such pure, such true
delights, why should we be solicitous for others? Never did those
'petite soupes', so celebrated in Paris, equal this; I do not only say
for real pleasure and gayety, but even for sensuality.

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