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

Warrens; indeed, as everything belonged to me, there was nothing to

steal; besides, the elevated notions I had imbibed ought to have rendered

me in future above such meanness, and generally speaking they certainly

did so; but this rather proceeded from my having learned to conquer

temptations, than having succeeded in rooting out the propensity, and I

should even now greatly dread stealing, as in my infancy, were I yet

subject to the same inclinations. I had a proof of this at M. Malby's,

when, though surrounded by a number of little things that I could easily

have pilfered, and which appeared no temptation, I took it into my head

to covert some white Arbois wine, some glasses of which I had drank at

table, and thought delicious. It happened to be rather thick, and as I

fancied myself an excellent finer of wine, I mentioned my skill, and this

was accordingly trusted to my care, but in attempting to mend, I spoiled

it, though to the sight only, for it remained equally agreeable to the

taste. Profiting by this opportunity, I furnished myself from time to

time with a few bottles to drink in my own apartment; but unluckily,

I could never drink without eating; the difficulty lay therefore,

in procuring bread. It was impossible to make a reserve of this article,

and to have it brought by the footman was discovering myself,

and insulting the master of the house; I could not bear to purchase it

myself; how could a fine gentleman, with a sword at his side, enter a

baker's shop to buy a small loaf of bread? it was utterly impossible.

At length I recollected the thoughtless saying of a great princess, who,

on being informed that the country people had no bread, replied, "Then

let them eat pastry!" Yet even this resource was attended with a

difficulty. I sometimes went out alone for this very purpose, running

over the whole city, and passing thirty pastry cook's shops, without

daring to enter any one of them. In the first place, it was necessary

there should be only one person in the shop, and that person's

physiognomy must be so encouraging as to give me confidence to pass the

threshold; but when once the dear little cake was procured, and I shut up

in my chamber with that and a bottle of wine, taken cautiously from the

bottom of a cupboard, how much did I enjoy drinking my wine, and reading

a few pages of a novel; for when I have no company I always wish to read

while eating; it seems a substitute for society, and I dispatch

alternately a page and a morsel; 'tis indeed, as if my book dined with

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 Warrens, being persuaded that could I once more see

her, I should be content to die that moment: in fine, I could no longer

resist the tender emotions which recalled me back to her, whatever it

might cost me. I accused myself of not having been sufficiently patient,

complaisant and kind; concluding I might yet live happily with her on the

terms of tender friendship, and by showing more for her than I had

hitherto done. I formed the finest projects in the world, burned to

execute them, left all, renounced everything, departed, fled, and

arriving in all the transports of my early youth, found myself once more

at her feet. Alas! I should have died there with joy, had I found in

her reception, in her embrace, or in her heart, one-quarter of what I had

formerly found there, and which I yet found the undiminished warmth of.

Fearful illusions of transitory things, how often dost thou torment us in

vain! She received me with that excellence of heart which could only die

with her; but I sought the influence there which could never be recalled,

and had hardly been half an hour with her before I was once more

convinced that my former happiness had vanished forever, and that I was

in the same melancholy situation which I had been obliged to fly from;

yet without being able to accuse any person with my unhappiness, for

Courtilles really was not to blame, appearing to see my return with more

pleasure than dissatisfaction. But how could I bear to be a secondary

person with her to whom I had been everything, and who could never cease

being such to me? How could I live an alien in that house where I had

been the child? The sight of every object that had been witness to my

former happiness, rendered the comparison yet more distressing; I should

have suffered less in any other habitation, for this incessantly recalled

such pleasing remembrances, that it was irritating the recollection of my

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 Warrens should have no other

resource. I had placed her household on a footing not to become worse;

but since my departure everything had been altered. He who now managed

her affairs was a spendthrift, and wished to make a great appearance;

such as keeping a good horse with elegant trappings; loved to appear gay

in the eyes of the neighbors, and was perpetually undertaking something

he did not understand. Her pension was taken up in advance, her rent was

in arrears, debts of every kind continued to accumulate; I could plainly

foresee that her pension would be seized, and perhaps suppressed; in

short, I expected nothing but ruin and misfortune, and the moment

appeared to approach so rapidly that I already felt all its horrors.

My closet was my only amusement, and after a tedious search for remedies

for the sufferings of my mind, I determined to seek some against the evil

of distressing circumstances, which I daily expected would fall upon us,

and returning to my old chimeras, behold me once more building castles in

the air to relieve this dear friend from the cruel extremities into which

I saw her ready to fall. I did not believe myself wise enough to shine

in the republic of letters, or to stand any chance of making a fortune by

that means; a new idea, therefore, inspired me with that confidence,

which the mediocrity of my talents could not impart.

In ceasing to teach music I had not abandoned the thoughts of it; on the

contrary, I had studied the theory sufficiently to consider myself well

informed on the subject. When reflecting on the trouble it had cost me

to read music, and the great difficulty I yet experienced in singing at

sight, I began to think the fault might as well arise from the manner of

noting as from my own dulness, being sensible it was an art which most

people find difficult to understand. By examining the formation of the

signs, I was convinced they were frequently very ill devised. I had

before thought of marking the gamut by figures, to prevent the trouble of

having lines to draw, on noting the plainest air; but had been stopped by

the difficulty of the octaves, and by the distinction of measure and

quantity: this idea returned again to my mind, and on a careful revision

of it, I found the difficulties by no means insurmountable. I pursued it

successfully, and was at length able to note any music whatever by

figures, with the greatest exactitude and simplicity. From this moment I

supposed my fortune made, and in the ardor of sharing it with her to whom

I owed everything, thought only of going to Paris, not doubting that on

presenting my project to the Academy, it would be adopted with rapture.

I had brought some money from Lyons; I augmented this stock by the sale

of my books, and in the course of a fortnight my resolution was both

formed and executed: in short, full of the magnificent ideas it had

inspired, and which were common to me on every occasion, I departed from

Savoy with my new system of music, as I had formerly done from Turin with

my heron-fountain.

Such have been the errors and faults of my youth; I have related the

history of them with a fidelity which my heart approves; if my riper

years were dignified with some virtues, I should have related them with

the same frankness; it was my intention to have done this, but I must

forego this pleasing task and stop here. Time, which renders justice to

the characters of most men, may withdraw the veil; and should my memory

reach posterity, they may one day discover what I had to say--they will

then understand why I am now silent.

The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Volume 06 · 第 4 / 4 段