BOOK VI.

Hoc erat in votis: Modus agri non ita magnus

Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus aqua fons;

Et paulum sylvae super his foret.

|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 Warens, 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 Warens 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 course 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

Warens, 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 Warens 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

Warens, 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

Warens 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 Warens 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.

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 Warens 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, Leibnitz, 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 Warens 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 Warens. 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 Warens 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 conjurer.

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 Warens 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 Warens 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 Warens 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 Warens,

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 Warens 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 Warens. "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 Warens 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 Warens; 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 Warens, 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 Warens, 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 whimsicality 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

Warens; but for this very reason, our tete-a-tetes were a hundred times

more delightful. When with Madam de Warens, 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

again.

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 Warens 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 charming.

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-Morris.

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 her.

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 Warens, 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

supplied!

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 Warens, 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 Warens; 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 person.

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 Warens, 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

Warens 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 Warens,

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 Warens, 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 Warens 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 Warens 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

logician.

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

purpose.

I had quite lost my inclination for little thieveries while with Madam

de Warens; 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 me.

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 Warens, 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 loss.

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 Warens 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.