{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_3905/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_3905","id":"gutenberg_3905","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3905","summary":null,"tags":["Authors, French -- 18th century -- Biography","Category: Biographies","Category: French Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 1712-1778"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU\n(In 12 books)\n\nPrivately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society\n\nLondon, 1903\n\n\n\nBOOK V.\n\n\nIt was, I believe, in 1732, that I arrived at Chambery, as already\nrelated, and began my employment of registering land for the king.  I was\nalmost twenty-one, my mind well enough formed for my age, with respect to\nsense, but very deficient in point of judgment, and needing every\ninstruction from those into whose hands I fell, to make me conduct myself\nwith propriety; for a few years' experience had not been able to cure me\nradically of my romantic ideas; and notwithstanding the ills I had\nsustained, I knew as little of the world, or mankind, as if I had never\npurchased instruction.  I slept at home, that is, at the house of Madam\nde Warrens; but it was not as at Annecy: here were no gardens, no brook,\nno landscape; the house was dark and dismal, and my apartment the most\ngloomy of the whole.  The prospect a dead wall, an alley instead of a\nstreet, confined air, bad light, small rooms, iron bars, rats, and a\nrotten floor; an assemblage of circumstances that do not constitute a\nvery agreeable habitation; but I was in the same house with my best\nfriend, incessantly near her, at my desk, or in chamber, so that I could\nnot perceive the gloominess of my own, or have time to think of it.\nIt may appear whimsical that she should reside at Chambery on purpose to\nlive in this disagreeable house; but it was a trait of contrivance which\nI ought not to pass over in silence.  She had no great inclination for a\njourney to Turin, fearing that after the recent revolutions, and the\nagitation in which the court yet was, she should not be very favorably\nreceived there; but her affairs seemed to demand her presence, as she\nfeared being forgotten or ill-treated, particularly as the Count de\nSaint-Laurent, Intendent-general of the Finances, was not in her\ninterest.  He had an old house in Chambery, ill-built, and standing in so\ndisagreeable a situation that it was always untenanted; she hired, and\nsettled in this house, a plan that succeeded much better than a journey\nto Turin would have done, for her pension was not suppressed, and the\nCount de Saint-Laurent was ever after one of her best friends.\n\nHer household was much on the old footing; her faithful Claude Anet still\nremained with her.  He was, as I have before mentioned, a peasant of\nMoutru, who in his childhood had gathered herbs in Jura for the purpose\nof making Swiss tea; she had taken him into her service for his knowledge\nof drugs, finding it convenient to have a herbalist among her domestics.\nPassionately fond of the study of plants, he became a real botanist, and\nhad he not died young, might have acquired as much fame in that science\nas he deserved for being an honest man.  Serious even to gravity, and\nolder than myself, he was to me a kind of tutor, commanding respect, and\npreserving me from a number of follies, for I dared not forget myself\nbefore him.  He commanded it likewise from his mistress, who knew his\nunderstanding, uprightness, and inviolable attachment to herself, and\nreturned it.  Claude Anet was of an uncommon temper.  I never encountered\na similar disposition: he was slow, deliberate, and circumspect in his\nconduct; cold in his manner; laconic and sententious in his discourse;\nyet of an impetuosity in his passions, which (though careful to conceal)\npreyed upon him inwardly, and urged him to the only folly he ever\ncommitted; that folly, indeed was terrible, it was poisoning himself.\nThis tragic scene passed soon after my arrival, and opened my eyes to the\nintimacy that subsisted between Claude Anet and his mistress, for had not\nthe information come from her, I should never have suspected it; yet,\nsurely, if attachment, fidelity, and zeal, could merit such a recompense,\nit was due to him, and what further proves him worthy such a distinction,\nhe never once abused her confidence.  They seldom disputed, and their\ndisagreements ever ended amicably; one, indeed, was not so fortunate;\nhis mistress, in a passion, said something affronting, which not being\nable to digest, he consulted only with despair, and finding a bottle of\nlaudanum at hand, drank it off; then went peaceably to bed, expecting to\nawake no more.  Madam de Warrens herself was uneasy, agitated, wandering\nabout the house and happily--finding the phial empty--guessed the rest.\nHer screams, while flying to his assistance, alarmed me; she confessed\nall, implored my help, and was fortunate enough, after repeated efforts,\nto make him throw up the laudanum.  Witness of this scene, I could not\nbut wonder at my stupidity in never having suspected the connection; but\nClaude Anet was so discreet, that a more penetrating observer might have\nbeen deceived.  Their reconciliation affected me, and added respect to\nthe esteem I before felt for him.  From this time I became, in some\nmeasure, his pupil, nor did I find myself the worse for his instruction.\n\nI could not learn, without pain, that she lived in greater intimacy with\nanother than with myself: it was a situation I had not even thought of,\nbut (which was very natural) it hurt me to see another in possession of\nit.  Nevertheless, instead of feeling any aversion to the person who had\nthis advantage over me, I found the attachment I felt for her actually\nextend to him.  I desired her happiness above all things, and since he\nwas concerned in her plan of felicity, I was content he should be happy\nlikewise.  Meantime he perfectly entered into the views of his mistress;\nconceived a sincere friendship for me, and without affecting the\nauthority his situation might have entitled him to, he naturally\npossessed that which his superior judgment gave him over mine.  I dared\ndo nothing he disproved of, but he was sure to disapprove only what\nmerited disapprobation: thus we lived in an union which rendered us\nmutually happy, and which death alone could dissolve.\n\nOne proof of the excellence of this amiable woman's character, is, that\nall those who loved her, loved each other; even jealousy and rivalship\nsubmitting to the more powerful sentiment with which she inspired them,\nand I never saw any of those who surrounded her entertain the least ill\nwill among themselves.  Let the reader pause a moment on this encomium,\nand if he can recollect any other woman who deserves it, let him attach\nhimself to her, if he would obtain happiness.\n\nFrom my arrival at Chambery to my departure for Paris, 1741, included an\ninterval of eight or nine years, during which time I have few adventures\nto relate; my life being as simple as it was agreeable.  This uniformity\nwas precisely what was most wanting to complete the formation of my\ncharacter, which continual troubles had prevented from acquiring any\ndegree of stability.  It was during this pleasing interval, that my\nunconnected, unfinished education, gained consistence, and made me what I\nhave unalterably remained amid the storms with which I have since been\nsurrounded.\n\nThe progress was slow, almost imperceptible, and attended by few\nmemorable circumstances; yet it deserves to be followed and investigated.\n\nAt first, I was wholly occupied with my business, the constraint of a\ndesk left little opportunity for other thoughts, the small portion of\ntime I was at liberty was passed with my dear Madam de Warrens, and not\nhaving leisure to read, I felt no inclination for it; but when my\nbusiness (by daily repetition) became familiar, and my mind was less\noccupied, study again became necessary, and (as my desires were ever\nirritated by any difficulty that opposed the indulgence of them) might\nonce more have become a passion, as at my master's, had not other\ninclinations interposed and diverted it.\n\nThough our occupation did not demand a very profound skill in arithmetic,\nit sometimes required enough to puzzle me.  To conquer this difficulty,\nI purchased books which treated on that science, and learned well, for I\nnow studied alone.  Practical arithmetic extends further than is usually\nsupposed if you would attain exact precision.  There are operations of\nextreme length in which I have sometimes seen good geometricians lose\nthemselves.  Reflection, assisted by practice, gives clear ideas, and\nenables you to devise shorter methods, these inventions flatter our\nself-complacency, while their exactitude satisfies our understanding, and\nrenders a study pleasant, which is, of itself, heavy and unentertaining.\nAt length I became so expert as not to be puzzled by any question that\nwas solvable by arithmetical calculation; and even now, while everything\nI formerly knew fades daily on my memory, this acquirement, in a great\nmeasure remains, through an interval of thirty years.  A few days ago,\nin a journey I made to Davenport, being with my host at an arithmetical\nlesson given his children, I did (with pleasure, and without errors) a\nmost complicated work.  While setting down my figures, methought I was\nstill at Chambery, still in my days of happiness--how far had I to look\nback for them!\n\nThe colored plans of our geometricians had given me a taste for drawing:\naccordingly I bought colors, and began by attempting flowers and\nlandscapes.  It was unfortunate that I had not talents for this art,\nfor my inclination was much disposed to it, and while surrounded with\ncrayons, pencils, and colors, I could have passed whole months without\nwishing to leave them.  This amusement engaged me so much that they were\nobliged to force me from it; and thus it is with every inclination I give\ninto, it continues to augment, till at length it becomes so powerful,\nthat I lose sight of everything except the favorite amusement.  Years\nhave not been able to cure me of that fault, nay, have not even\ndiminished it; for while I am writing this, behold me, like an old\ndotard, infatuated with another, to me useless study, which I do not\nunderstand, and which even those who have devoted their youthful days to\nthe acquisition of, are constrained to abandon, at the age I am beginning\nwith it.\n\nAt that time, the study I am now speaking of would have been well placed,\nthe opportunity was good, and I had some temptation to profit by it; for\nthe satisfaction I saw in the eyes of Anet, when he came home loaded with\nnew discovered plants, set me two or three times on the point of going to\nherbalize with him, and I am almost certain that had I gone once,\nI should have been caught, and perhaps at this day might have been an\nexcellent botanist, for I know no study more congenial to my natural\ninclination, than that of plants; the life I have led for these ten years\npast, in the country, being little more than a continual herbalizing,\nthough I must confess, without object, and without improvement; but at\nthe time I am now speaking of I had no inclination for botany, nay,\nI even despised, and was disgusted at the idea, considering it only as a\nfit study for an apothecary.  Madam de Warrens was fond of it merely for\nthis purpose, seeking none but common plants to use in her medical\npreparations; thus botany, chemistry, and anatomy were confounded in my\nidea under the general denomination of medicine, and served to furnish me\nwith pleasant sarcasms the whole day, which procured me, from time to\ntime, a box on the ear, applied by Madam de Warrens.  Besides this, a\nvery contrary taste grew up with me, and by degrees absorbed all others;\nthis was music.  I was certainly born for that science, I loved it from\nmy infancy, and it was the only inclination I have constantly adhered to;\nbut it is astonishing that what nature seemed to have designed me for\nshould have cost so much pains to learn, and that I should acquire it so\nslowly, that after a whole life spent in the practice of this art,\nI could never attain to sing with any certainty at sight.  What rendered\nthe study of music more agreeable to me at that time, was, being able to\npractise it with Madam de Warrens.  In other respects our tastes were\nwidely different: this was a point of coincidence, which I loved to avail\nmyself of.  She had no more objection to this than myself.  I knew at\nthat time almost as much of it as she did, and after two or three\nefforts, we could make shift to decipher an air.  Sometimes, when I saw\nher busy at her furnace, I have said, \"Here now is a charming duet, which\nseems made for the very purpose of spoiling your drugs;\" her answer would\nbe, \"If you make me burn them, I'll make you eat them:\" thus disputing, I\ndrew her to the harpsichord; the furnace was presently forgotten, the\nextract of juniper or wormwood calcined (which I cannot recollect without\ntransport), and these scenes usually ended by her smearing my face with\nthe remains of them.\n\nIt may easily be conjectured that I had plenty of employment to fill up\nmy leisure hours; one amusement, however, found room, that was well worth\nall the rest.\n\nWe lived in such a confined dungeon, that it was necessary sometimes to\nbreathe the open air; Anet, therefore, engaged Madam de Warrens to hire a\ngarden in the suburbs, both for this purpose and the convenience of\nrearing plants, etc.; to this garden was added a summer--house, which was\nfurnished in the customary manner; we sometimes dined, and I frequently\nslept, there.  Insensibly I became attached to this little retreat,\ndecorated it with books and prints, spending part of my time in\nornamenting it during the absence of Madam de Warrens, that I might\nsurprise her the more agreeably on her return.  Sometimes I quitted this\ndear friend, that I might enjoy the uninterrupted pleasure of thinking on\nher; this was a caprice I can neither excuse nor fully explain, I only\nknow this really was the case, and therefore I avow it.  I remember Madam\nde Luxembourg told me one day in raillery, of a man who used to leave his\nmistress that he might enjoy the satisfaction of writing to her; I\nanswered, I could have been this man; I might have added, That I had done\nthe very same.\n\nI did not, however, find it necessary to leave Madam de Warrens that I\nmight love her the more ardently, for I was ever as perfectly free with\nher as when alone; an advantage I never enjoyed with any other person,\nman or woman, however I might be attached to them; but she was so often\nsurrounded by company who were far from pleasing me, that spite and\nweariness drove me to this asylum, where I could indulge the idea,\nwithout danger of being interrupted by impertinence.  Thus, my time being\ndivided between business, pleasure, and instruction, my life passed in\nthe most absolute serenity.  Europe was not equally tranquil: France and\nthe emperor had mutually declared war, the King of Sardinia had entered\ninto the quarrel, and a French army had filed off into Piedmont to awe\nthe Milanese.  Our division passed through Chambery, and, among others,\nthe regiment of Champaigne, whose colonel was the Duke de la Trimouille,\nto whom I was presented.  He promised many things, but doubtless never\nmore thought of me.  Our little garden was exactly at the end of the\nsuburb by which the troops entered, so that I could fully satisfy my\ncuriosity in seeing them pass, and I became as anxious for the success of\nthe war as if it had nearly concerned me.  Till now I had never troubled\nmyself about politics, for the first time I began reading the gazettes,\nbut with so much partiality on the side of France, that my heart beat\nwith rapture on its most trifling advantages, and I was as much afflicted\non a reverse of fortune, as if I had been particularly concerned.\n\nHad this folly been transient, I should not, perhaps, have mentioned it,\nbut it took such root in my heart (without any reasonable cause) that\nwhen I afterwards acted the anti-despot and proud republican at Paris, in\nspite of myself, I felt a secret predilection for the nation I declared\nservile, and for that government I affected to oppose.  The pleasantest\nof all was that, ashamed of an inclination so contrary to my professed\nmaxims, I dared not own it to any one, but rallied the French on their\ndefeats, while my heart was more wounded than their own.  I am certainly\nthe first man, that, living with a people who treated him well, and whom\nhe almost adored, put on, even in their own country, a borrowed air of\ndespising them; yet my original inclination is so powerful, constant,\ndisinterested, and invincible, that even since my quitting that kingdom,\nsince its government, magistrates, and authors, have outvied each other\nin rancor against me, since it has become fashionable to load me with\ninjustice and abuse, I have not been able to get rid of this folly, but\nnotwithstanding their ill-treatment, love them in spite of myself.\n\nI long sought the cause of this partiality, but was never able to find\nany, except in the occasion that gave it birth.  A rising taste for\nliterature attached me to French books, to their authors, and their\ncountry: at the very moment the French troops were passing Chambery, I\nwas reading Brantome's 'Celebrated Captains'; my head was full of the\nClissons, Bayards, Lautrecs Colignys, Monlmoreneys, and Trimouille, and I\nloved their descendants as the heirs of their merit and courage.  In each\nregiment that passed by methought I saw those famous black bands who had\nformerly done so many noble exploits in Piedmont; in fine, I applied to\nthese all the ideas I had gathered from books; my reading continued,\nwhich, still drawn from the same nation, nourished my affection for that\ncountry, till, at length, it became a blind passion, which nothing could\novercome.  I have had occasion to remark several times in the course of\nmy travels, that this impression was not peculiar to me for France, but\nwas more or less active in every country, for that part of the nation who\nwere fond of literature, and cultivated learning; and it was this\nconsideration that balanced in my mind the general hatred which the\nconceited air of the French is so apt to inspire.  Their romances, more\nthan their men, attract the women of all countries, and the celebrated\ndramatic pieces of France create a fondness in youth for their theaters;\nthe reputation which that of Paris in particular has acquired, draws to\nit crowds of strangers, who return enthusiasts to their own country: in\nshort, the excellence of their literature captivates the senses, and in\nthe unfortunate war just ended, I have seen their authors and\nphilosophers maintain the glory of France, so tarnished by its warriors.\n\nI was, therefore, an ardent Frenchman; this rendered me a politician, and\nI attended in the public square, amid a throng of news-mongers, the\narrival of the post, and, sillier than the ass in the fable, was very\nuneasy to know whose packsaddle I should next have the honor to carry,\nfor it was then supposed we should belong to France, and that Savoy would\nbe exchanged for Milan.  I must confess, however, that I experienced some\nuneasiness, for had this war terminated unfortunately for the allies, the\npension of Madam de Warrens would have been in a dangerous situation;\nnevertheless, I had great confidence in my good friends, the French, and\nfor once (in spite of the surprise of M. de Broglio) my confidence was\nnot ill-founded--thanks to the King of Sardinia, whom I had never thought\nof.\n\nWhile we were fighting in Italy, they were singing in France: the operas\nof Rameau began to make a noise there, and once more raise the credit of\nhis theoretic works, which, from their obscurity, were within the compass\nof very few understandings.  By chance I heard of his 'Treatise on\nHarmony', and had no rest till I purchased it.  By another chance I fell\nsick; my illness was inflammatory, short and violent, but my\nconvalescence was tedious, for I was unable to go abroad for a whole\nmonth.  During this time I eagerly ran over my Treatise on Harmony, but\nit was so long, so diffuse, and so badly disposed, that I found it would\nrequire a considerable time to unravel it: accordingly I suspended my\ninclination, and recreated my sight with music.\n\nThe cantatas of Bernier were what I principally exercised myself with.\nThese were never out of my mind; I learned four or five by heart, and\namong the rest, 'The Sleeping Cupids', which I have never seen since that\ntime, though I still retain it almost entirely; as well as 'Cupid Stung\nby a Bee', a very pretty cantata by Clerambault, which I learned about\nthe same time.\n\nTo complete me, there arrived a young organist from Valdoste, called the\nAbbe Palais, a good musician and an agreeable companion, who performed\nvery well on the harpsichord; I got acquainted with him, and we soon\nbecame inseparable.  He had been brought up by an Italian monk, who was a\ncapital organist.  He explained to me his principles of music, which I\ncompared with Rameau; my head was filled with accompaniments, concords\nand harmony, but as it was necessary to accustom the ear to all this, I\nproposed to Madam de Warrens having a little concert once a month, to\nwhich she consented.\n\nBehold me then so full of this concert, that night or day I could think\nof nothing else, and it actually employed a great part of my time to\nselect the music, assemble the musicians, look to the instruments, and\nwrite out the several parts.  Madam de Warrens sang; Father Cato (whom I\nhave before mentioned, and shall have occasion to speak of again) sang\nlikewise; a dancing--master named Roche, and his son, played on the\nviolin; Canavas, a Piedmontese musician (who was employed like myself in\nthe survey, and has since married at Paris), played on the violoncello;\nthe Abbe Palais performed on the harpsichord, and I had the honor to\nconduct the whole.  It may be supposed all this was charming; I cannot\nsay it equalled my concert at Monsieur de Tretoren's, but certainly it\nwas not far behind it.\n\nThis little concert, given by Madam de Warrens, the new convert, who\nlived (it was expressed) on the king's charity, made the whole tribe of\ndevotees murmur, but was a very agreeable amusement to several worthy\npeople, at the head of whom it would not be easily surmised that I should\nplace a monk; yet, though a monk, a man of considerable merit, and even\nof a very amiable disposition, whose subsequent misfortunes gave me the\nmost lively concern, and whose idea, attached to that of my happy days,\nis yet dear to my memory.  I speak of Father Cato, a Cordelier, who, in\nconjunction with the Count d'Ortan, had caused the music of poor Le\nMaitre to be seized at Lyons; which action was far from being the\nbrightest trait in his history.  He was a Bachelor of Sorbonne, had lived\nlong in Paris among the great world, and was particularly caressed by the\nMarquis d'Antremont, then Ambassador from Sardinia.  He was tall and well\nmade; full faced, with very fine eyes, and black hair, which formed\nnatural curls on each side of his forehead.  His manner was at once\nnoble, open, and modest; he presented himself with ease and good manners,\nhaving neither the hypocritical nor impudent behavior of a monk, or the\nforward assurance of a fashionable coxcomb, but the manners of a\nwell-bred man, who, without blushing for his habit, set a value on\nhimself, and ever felt in his proper situation when in good company.\nThough Father Cato was not deeply studied for a doctor, he was much so\nfor a man of the world, and not being compelled to show his talents, he\nbrought them forward so advantageously that they appeared greater than\nthey really were.  Having lived much in the world, he had rather\nattached himself to agreeable acquirements than to solid learning; had\nsense, made verses, spoke well, sang better, and aided his good voice by\nplaying on the organ and harpsichord.  So many pleasing qualities were\nnot necessary to make his company sought after, and, accordingly, it was\nvery much so, but this did not make him neglect the duties of his\nfunction: he was chosen (in spite of his jealous competitors) Definitor\nof his Province, or, according to them, one of the greatest pillars of\ntheir order.\n\nFather Cato became acquainted with Madam de Warrens at the Marquis of\nAntremont's; he had heard of her concerts, wished to assist at them, and\nby his company rendered our meetings truly agreeable.  We were soon\nattached to each other by our mutual taste for music, which in both was a\nmost lively passion, with this difference, that he was really a musician,\nand myself a bungler.  Sometimes assisted by Canavas and the Abbe Palais,\nwe had music in his apartment; or on holidays at his organ, and\nfrequently dined with him; for, what was very astonishing in a monk,\nhe was generous, profuse, and loved good cheer, without the least\ntincture of greediness.  After our concerts, he always used to stay to\nsupper, and these evenings passed with the greatest gayety and\ngood-humor; we conversed with the utmost freedom, and sang duets; I was\nperfectly at my ease, had sallies of wit and merriment; Father Cato was\ncharming, Madam de Warrens adorable, and the Abbe Palais, with his rough\nvoice, was the butt of the company.  Pleasing moments of sportive youth,\nhow long since have ye fled!\n\nAs I shall have no more occasion to speak of poor Father Cato, I will\nhere conclude in a few words his melancholy history.  His brother monks,\njealous, or rather exasperated to discover in him a merit and elegance of\nmanners which favored nothing of monastic stupidity, conceived the most\nviolent hatred to him, because he was not as despicable as themselves;\nthe chiefs, therefore, combined against this worthy man, and set on the\nenvious rabble of monks, who otherwise would not have dared to hazard the\nattack.  He received a thousand indignities; they degraded him from his\noffice, took away the apartment which he had furnished with elegant\nsimplicity, and, at length, banished him, I know not whither: in short,\nthese wretches overwhelmed him with so many evils, that his honest and\nproud soul sank under the pressure, and, after having been the delight of\nthe most amiable societies, he died of grief, on a wretched bed, hid in\nsome cell or dungeon, lamented by all worthy people of his acquaintance,\nwho could find no fault in him, except his being a monk.\n\nAccustomed to this manner of life for some time, I became so entirely\nattached to music that I could think of nothing else.  I went to my\nbusiness with disgust, the necessary confinement and assiduity appeared\nan insupportable punishment, which I at length wished to relinquish, that\nI might give myself up without reserve to my favorite amusement.  It will\nbe readily believed that this folly met with some opposition; to give up\na creditable employment and fixed salary to run after uncertain scholars\nwas too giddy a plan to be approved of by Madam de Warrens, and even\nsupposing my future success should prove as great as I flattered myself,\nit was fixing very humble limits to my ambition to think of reducing\nmyself for life to the condition of a music-master.  She, who formed for\nme the brightest projects, and no longer trusted implicitly to the\njudgment of M. d'Aubonne, seeing with concern that I was so seriously\noccupied with a talent which she thought frivolous, frequently repeated\nto me that provincial proverb, which does not hold quite so good in\nParis,\n\n              \"Qui biens chante et biens dance,\n               fait un metier qui peu avance.\"\n\n          [He who can sweetly sing and featly dance.\n          His interests right little shall advance.]\n\nOn the other hand, she saw me hurried away by this irresistible passion,\nmy taste for music having become a furor, and it was much to be feared\nthat my employment, suffering by my distraction, might draw on me a\ndischarge, which would be worse than a voluntary resignation.\nI represented to her; that this employment could not last long, that it\nwas necessary I should have some permanent means of subsistence, and that\nit would be much better to complete by practice the acquisition of that\nart to which my inclination led me than to make fresh essays, which\npossibly might not succeed, since by this means, having passed the age\nmost proper for improvement, I might be left without a single resource\nfor gaining a livelihood: in short, I extorted her consent more by\nimportunity and caresses than by any satisfactory reasons.  Proud of my\nsuccess, I immediately ran to thank M. Coccelli, Director-General of the\nSurvey, as though I had performed the most heroic action, and quitted my\nemployment without cause, reason, or pretext, with as much pleasure as I\nhad accepted it two years before.\n\nThis step, ridiculous as it may appear, procured me a kind of\nconsideration, which I found extremely useful.  Some supposed I had\nresources which I did not possess; others, seeing me totally given up to\nmusic, judged of my abilities by the sacrifice I had made, and concluded\nthat with such a passion for the art, I must possess it in a superior\ndegree.  In a nation of blind men, those with one eye are kings.  I\npassed here for an excellent master, because all the rest were very bad\nones.  Possessing taste in singing, and being favored by my age and\nfigure, I soon procured more scholars than were sufficient to compensate\nfor the losses of my secretary's pay.  It is certain, that had it been\nreasonable to consider the pleasure of my situation only, it was\nimpossible to pass more speedily from one extreme to the other.  At our\nmeasuring, I was confined eight hours in the day to the most\nunentertaining employment, with yet more disagreeable company.  Shut up\nin a melancholy counting-house, empoisoned by the smell and respiration\nof a number of clowns, the major part of whom were ill-combed and very\ndirty, what with attention, bad air, constraint and weariness, I was\nsometimes so far overcome as to occasion a vertigo.  Instead of this,\nbehold me admitted into the fashionable world, sought after in the first\nhouses, and everywhere received with an air of satisfaction; amiable and\ngay young ladies awaiting my arrival, and welcoming me with pleasure;\nI see nothing but charming objects, smell nothing but roses and orange\nflowers; singing, chatting, laughter, and amusements, perpetually succeed\neach other.  It must be allowed, that reckoning all these advantages, no\nhesitation was necessary in the choice; in fact, I was so content with\nmine, that I never once repented it; nor do I even now, when, free from\nthe irrational motives that influenced me at that time, I weigh in the\nscale of reason every action of my life.\n\nThis is, perhaps, the only time that, listening to inclination, I was not\ndeceived in my expectations.  The easy access, obliging temper, and free\nhumor of this country, rendered a commerce with the world agreeable,\nand the inclination I then felt for it, proves to me, that if I have a\ndislike for society, it is more their fault than mine.  It is a pity the\nSavoyards are not rich: though, perhaps, it would be a still greater pity\nif they were so, for altogether they are the best, the most sociable\npeople that I know, and if there is a little city in the world where the\npleasures of life are experienced in an agreeable and friendly commerce,\nit is at Chambery.  The gentry of the province who assemble there have\nonly sufficient wealth to live and not enough to spoil them; they cannot\ngive way to ambition, but follow, through necessity, the counsel of\nCyneas, devoting their youth to a military employment, and returning home\nto grow old in peace; an arrangement over which honor and reason equally\npreside.  The women are handsome, yet do not stand in need of beauty,\nsince they possess all those qualifications which enhance its value and\neven supply the want of it.  It is remarkable, that being obliged by my\nprofession to see a number of young girls, I do not recollect one at\nChambery but what was charming: it will be said I was disposed to find\nthem so, and perhaps there maybe some truth in the surmise.  I cannot\nremember my young scholars without pleasure.  Why, in naming the most\namiable, cannot I recall them and myself also to that happy age in which\nour moments, pleasing as innocent, were passed with such happiness\ntogether?  The first was Mademoiselle de Mallarede, my neighbor, and\nsister to a pupil of Monsieur Gaime.  She was a fine clear brunette,\nlively and graceful, without giddiness; thin as girls of that age usually\nare; but her bright eyes, fine shape, and easy air, rendered her\nsufficiently pleasing with that degree of plumpness which would have\ngiven a heightening to her charms.  I went there of mornings, when she\nwas usually in her dishabille, her hair carelessly turned up, and, on my\narrival, ornamented with a flower, which was taken off at my departure\nfor her hair to be dressed.  There is nothing I fear so much as a pretty\nwoman in an elegant dishabille; I should dread them a hundred times less\nin full dress.  Mademoiselle de Menthon, whom I attended in the\nafternoon, was ever so.  She made an equally pleasing, but quite\ndifferent impression on me.  Her hair was flaxen, her person delicate,\nshe was very timid and extremely fair, had a clear voice, capable of just\nmodulation, but which she had not courage to employ to its full extent.\nShe had the mark of a scald on her bosom, which a scanty piece of blue\nchenille did not entirely cover, this scar sometimes drew my attention,\nthough not absolutely on its own account.  Mademoiselle des Challes,\nanother of my neighbors, was a woman grown, tall, well-formed, jolly,\nvery pleasing though not a beauty, and might be quoted for her\ngracefulness, equal temper, and good humor.  Her sister, Madam de Charly,\nthe handsomest woman of Chambery, did not learn music, but I taught her\ndaughter, who was yet young, but whose growing beauty promised to equal\nher mother's, if she had not unfortunately been a little red-haired.\nI had likewise among my scholars a little French lady, whose name I have\nforgotten, but who merits a place in my list of preferences.  She had\nadopted the slow drawling tone of the nuns, in which voice she would\nutter some very keen things, which did not in the least appear to\ncorrespond with her manner; but she was indolent, and could not generally\ntake pains to show her wit, that being a favor she did not grant to every\none.  After a month or two of negligent attendance, this was an expedient\nshe devised to make me more assiduous, for I could not easily persuade\nmyself to be so.  When with my scholars, I was fond enough of teaching,\nbut could not bear the idea of being obliged to attend at a particular\nhour; constraint and subjection in every shape are to me insupportable,\nand alone sufficient to make me hate even pleasure itself.\n\nI had some scholars likewise among the tradespeople, and, among others,\none who was the indirect cause of a change of relationship, which (as I\nhave promised to declare all) I must relate in its place.  She was the\ndaughter of a grocer, and was called Mademoiselle de Larnage, a perfect\nmodel for a Grecian statue, and whom I should quote for the handsomest\ngirl I have ever seen, if true beauty could exist without life or soul.\nHer indolence, reserve, and insensibility were inconceivable; it was\nequally impossible to please or make her angry, and I am convinced that\nhad any one formed a design upon her virtue, he might have succeeded, not\nthrough her inclination, but from her stupidity.  Her mother, who would\nrun no risk of this, did not leave her a single moment.  In having her\ntaught to sing and providing a young master, she had hoped to enliven\nher, but it all proved ineffectual.  While the master was admiring the\ndaughter, the mother was admiring the master, but this was equally lost\nlabor.  Madam de Larnage added to her natural vivacity that portion of\nsprightliness which should have belonged to the daughter.  She was a\nlittle, ugly, lively trollop, with small twinkling ferret eyes, and\nmarked with smallpox.  On my arrival in the morning, I always found my\ncoffee and cream ready, and the mother never failed to welcome me with a\nkiss on the lips, which I would willingly have returned the daughter, to\nsee how she would have received it.  All this was done with such an air\nof carelessness and simplicity, that even when M. de Larnage was present;\nher kisses and caresses were not omitted.  He was a good quiet fellow,\nthe true original of his daughter; nor did his wife endeavor to deceive\nhim, because there was absolutely no occasion for it.\n\nI received all these caresses with my usual stupidity, taking them only\nfor marks of pure friendship, though they were sometimes troublesome; for\nthe lively Madam Lard was displeased, if, during the day, I passed the\nshop without calling; it became necessary, therefore (when I had no time\nto spare), to go out of my way through another street, well knowing it\nwas not so easy to quit her house as to enter it.\n\nMadam Lard thought so much of me, that I could not avoid thinking\nsomething of her.  Her attentions affected me greatly; and I spoke of\nthem to Madam de Warrens, without supposing any mystery in the matter,\nbut had there been one I should equally have divulged it, for to have\nkept a secret of any kind from her would have been impossible.  My heart\nlay as open to Madam de Warrens as to Heaven.  She did not understand the\nmatter quite so simply as I had done, but saw advances where I only\ndiscovered friendship.  She concluded that Madam Lard would make a point\nof not leaving me as great a fool as she found me, and, some way or\nother, contrive to make herself understood; but exclusive of the\nconsideration that it was not just, that another should undertake the\ninstruction of her pupil, she had motives more worthy of her, wishing to\nguard me against the snares to which my youth and inexperience exposed\nme.  Meantime, a more dangerous temptation offered which I likewise\nescaped, but which proved to her that such a succession of dangers\nrequired every preservative she could possibly apply.\n\nThe Countess of Menthon, mother to one of my scholars, was a woman of\ngreat wit, and reckoned to possess, at least, an equal share of mischief,\nhaving (as was reported) caused a number of quarrels, and, among others,\none that terminated fatally for the house of D' Antremont.  Madam de\nWarrens had seen enough of her to know her character: for having (very\ninnocently) pleased some person to whom Madam de Menthon had pretensions,\nshe found her guilty of the crime of this preference, though Madam de\nWarrens had neither sought after nor accepted it, and from that moment\nendeavored to play her rival a number of ill turns, none of which\nsucceeded.  I shall relate one of the most whimsical, by way of specimen.\n\nThey were together in the country, with several gentlemen of the\nneighborhood, and among the rest the lover in question.  Madam de Menthon\ntook an opportunity to say to one of these gentlemen, that Madam de\nWarrens was a prude, that she dressed ill, and particularly that she\ncovered her neck like a tradeswoman.  \"O, for that matter,\" replied the\nperson she was speaking to (who was fond of a joke), \"she has good\nreason, for I know she is marked with a great ugly rat on her bosom, so\nnaturally, that it even appears to be running.\"  Hatred, as well as love,\nrenders its votaries credulous.  Madam de Menthon resolved to make use of\nthis discovery, and one day, while Madam de Warrens was at cards with\nthis lady's ungrateful favorite, she contrived, in passing behind her\nrival, almost to overset the chair she sat on, and at the same instant,\nvery dexterously displaced her handkerchief; but instead of this hideous\nrat, the gentleman beheld a far different object, which it was not more\neasy to forget than to obtain a sight of, and which by no means answered\nthe intentions of the lady.\n\nI was not calculated to engross the attention of Madam de Menthon, who\nloved to be surrounded by brilliant company; notwithstanding she bestowed\nsome attention on me, not for the sake of my person, which she certainly\ndid not regard, but for the reputation of wit which I had acquired, and\nwhich might have rendered me convenient to her predominant inclination.\nShe had a very lively passion for ridicule, and loved to write songs and\nlampoons on those who displeased her: had she found me possessed of\nsufficient talents to aid the fabrication of her verses, and complaisance\nenough to do so, we should presently have turned Chambery upside down;\nthese libels would have been traced to their source, Madam de Menthon\nwould have saved herself by sacrificing me, and I should have been cooped\nup in prison, perhaps, for the rest of my life, as a recompense for\nhaving figured away as the Apollo of the ladies.  Fortunately, nothing of\nthis kind happened; Madam de Menthon made me stay for dinner two or three\ndays, to chat with me, and soon found I was too dull for her purpose.\nI felt this myself, and was humiliated at the discovery, envying the\ntalents of my friend Venture; though I should rather have been obliged to\nmy stupidity for keeping me out of the reach of danger.  I remained,\ntherefore, Madam de Menthon's daughter's singing-master, and nothing\nmore!  but I lived happily, and was ever well received at Chambery, which\nwas a thousand times more desirable than passing for a wit with her, and\nfor a serpent with everybody else.\n\nHowever this might be, Madam de Warrens conceived it necessary to guard\nme from the perils of youth by treating me as a man: this she immediately\nset about, but in the most extraordinary manner that any woman, in\nsimilar circumstances, ever devised.  I all at once observed that her\nmanner was graver, and her discourse more moral than usual.  To the\nplayful gayety with which she used to intermingle her instructions\nsuddenly succeeded an uniformity of manner, neither familiar nor severe,\nbut which seemed to prepare me for some explanation.  After having vainly\nracked my brain for the reason of this change, I mentioned it to her;\nthis she had expected and immediately proposed a walk to our garden the\nnext day.  Accordingly we went there the next morning; she had contrived\nthat we should remain alone the whole day, which she employed in\npreparing me for those favors she meant to bestow; not as another woman\nwould have done, by toying and folly, but by discourses full of sentiment\nand reason, rather tending to instruct than seduce, and which spoke more\nto my heart than to my senses.  Meantime, however excellent and to the\npurpose these discourses might be, and though far enough from coldness or\nmelancholy, I did not listen to them with all the attention they merited,\nnor fix them in my memory as I should have done at any other time.  That\nair of preparation which she had adopted gave me a degree of inquietude;\nwhile she spoke (in spite of myself) I was thoughtful and absent,\nattending less to what she said than curious to know what she aimed at;\nand no sooner had I comprehended her design (which I could not easily do)\nthan the novelty of the idea, which, during all the years I had passed\nwith her, had never once entered my imagination, took such entire\npossession of me that I was no longer capable of minding what she said!\nI only thought of her; I heard her no longer.\n\nThinking to render young minds attentive to reason by proposing some\nhighly interesting object as the result of it, is an error instructors\nfrequently run into, and one which I have not avoided in my Umilius.\nThe young pupil, struck with the object presented to him, is occupied\nonly with that, and leaping lightly over your preliminary discourses,\nlights at once on the point, to which, in his idea, you lead him too\ntediously.  To render him attentive, he must be prevented from seeing the\nwhole of your design; and, in this particular, Madam de Warrens did not\nact with sufficient precaution.\n\nBy a singularity which adhered to her systematic disposition, she took\nthe vain precaution of proposing conditions; but the moment I knew the\npurchase, I no longer even heard them, but immediately consented to\neverything; and I doubt whether there is a man on the whole earth who\nwould have been sincere or courageous enough to dispute terms, or one\nsingle woman who would have pardoned such a dispute.  By a continuation\nof the same whimsicality, she attached a number of the gravest\nformalities to the acquisition of her favors, and gave me eight days to\nthink of them, which I assured her I had no need of, though that\nassurance was far from a truth: for to complete this assemblage of\nsingularities, I was very glad to have this intermission; so much had the\nnovelty of these ideas struck me, and such disorder did I feel in mine,\nthat it required time to arrange them.\n\nIt will be supposed, that these eight days appeared to me as many ages;\non the contrary, I should have been very glad had the time been\nlengthened.  I find it difficult to describe the state I found myself in;\nit was a strange chaos of fear and impatience, dreading what I desired,\nand studying some civil pretext to evade my happiness.\n\nLet the warmth of my constitution be remembered, my age, and my heart\nintoxicated with love; let my tender attachment to her be supposed,\nwhich, far from having diminished, had daily gained additional strength;\nlet it be considered that I was only happy when with her, that my heart\nwas full, not only of her bounty, of her amiable disposition, but of her\nshape, of her person, of herself; in a word, conceive me united to her by\nevery affinity that could possibly render her dear; nor let it be\nsupposed, that, being ten or twelve years older than myself, she began to\ngrow an old woman, or was so in my opinion.  From the time the first\nsight of her had made such an impression on me, she had really altered\nvery little, and, in my mind, not at all.  To me she was ever charming,\nand was still thought so by everyone.  She had got something jollier,\nbut had the same fine eyes, the same clear complexion, the same features,\nthe same beautiful light hair, the sane gayety, and even the same voice,\nwhose youthful and silvery sound made so lively an impression on my\nheart, that, even to this day, I cannot hear a young woman's voice,\nthat is at all harmonious, without emotion.  It will be seen, that in a\nmore advanced age, the bare idea of some trifling favors I had to expect\nfrom the person I loved, inflamed me so far, that I could not support,\nwith any degree of patience, the time necessary to traverse the short\nspace that separated us; how then, by what miracle, when in the flower of\nmy youth, had I so little impatience for a happiness I had never tasted\nbut in idea?  How could I see the moment advancing with more pain than\npleasure?  Why, instead of transports that should have intoxicated me\nwith their deliciousness, did I experience only fears and repugnance?\nI have no doubt that if I could have avoided this happiness with any\ndegree of decency, I should have relinquished it with all my heart.\nI have promised a number of extravagancies in the history of my\nattachment to her; this certainly is one that no idea could be formed of.\n\nThe reader (already disgusted) supposes, that being in the situation I\nhave before described with Claude Anet, she was already degraded in my\nopinion by this participation of her favors, and that a sentiment of\ndisesteem weakened those she had before inspired me with; but he is\nmistaken.  'Tis true that this participation gave me a cruel uneasiness,\nas well from a very natural sentiment of delicacy, as because it appeared\nunworthy both of her and myself; but as to my sentiments for her, they\nwere still the same, and I can solemnly aver, that I never loved her more\ntenderly than when I felt so little propensity to avail myself of her\ncondescension.  I was too well acquainted with the chastity of her heart\nand the iciness of her constitution, to suppose a moment that the\ngratification of the senses had any influence over her; I was well\nconvinced that her only motive was to guard me from dangers, which\nappeared otherwise inevitable, by this extraordinary favor, which she did\nnot consider in the same light that women usually do; as will presently\nbe explained.\n\nThe habit of living a long time innocently together, far from weakening\nthe first sentiments I felt for her, had contributed to strengthen them,\ngiving a more lively, a more tender, but at the same time a less sensual,\nturn to my affection.  Having ever accustomed myself to call her Mama (as\nformerly observed) and enjoying the familiarity of a son, it became\nnatural to consider myself as such, and I am inclined to think this was\nthe true reason of that insensibility with a person I so tenderly loved;\nfor I can perfectly recollect that my emotions on first seeing her,\nthough not more lively, were more voluptuous: At Annecy I was\nintoxicated, at Chambery I possessed my reason.  I always loved her as\npassionately as possible, but I now loved her more for herself and less\non my own account; or, at least, I rather sought for happiness than\npleasure in her company.  She was more to me than a sister, a mother, a\nfriend, or even than a mistress, and for this very reason she was not a\nmistress; in a word, I loved her too much to desire her.\n\nThis day, more dreaded than hoped for, at length arrived.  I have before\nobserved, that I promised everything that was required of me, and I kept\nmy word: my heart confirmed my engagements without desiring the fruits,\nthough at length I obtained them.  Was I happy?  No: I felt I know not\nwhat invincible sadness which empoisoned my happiness, it seemed that I\nhad committed an incest, and two or three times, pressing her eagerly in\nmy arms, I deluged her bosom with my tears.  On her part, as she had\nnever sought pleasure, she had not the stings of remorse.\n\nI repeat it, all her failings were the effect of her errors, never of her\npassions.  She was well born, her heart was pure, her manners noble, her\ndesires regular and virtuous, her taste delicate; she seemed formed for\nthat elegant purity of manners which she ever loved, but never practised,\nbecause instead of listening to the dictates of her heart, she followed\nthose of her reason, which led her astray: for when once corrupted by\nfalse principles it will ever run counter to its natural sentiments.\nUnhappily, she piqued herself on philosophy, and the morals she drew from\nthence clouded the genuine purity of her heart.\n\nM. Tavel, her first lover, was also her instructor in this philosophy,\nand the principles he instilled into her mind were such as tended to\nseduce her.  Finding her cold and impregnable on the side of her\npassions, and firmly attached to her husband and her duty, he attacked\nher by sophisms, endeavoring to prove that the list of duties she thought\nso sacred, was but a sort of catechism, fit only for children.  That the\nkind of infidelity she thought so terrible, was, in itself, absolutely\nindifferent; that all the morality of conjugal faith consisted in\nopinion, the contentment of husbands being the only reasonable rule of\nduty in wives; consequently that concealed infidelities, doing no injury,\ncould be no crime; in a word, he persuaded her that the sin consisted\nonly in the scandal, that woman being really virtuous who took care to\nappear so.  Thus the deceiver obtained his end in the subverting the\nreason of a girl; whose heart he found it impossible to corrupt, and\nreceived his punishment in a devouring jealousy, being persuaded she\nwould treat him as he had prevailed on her to treat her husband.\n\nI don't know whether he was mistaken in this respect: the Minister Perret\npassed for his successor; all I know, is, that the coldness of\ntemperament which it might have been supposed would have kept her from\nembracing this system, in the end prevented her from renouncing it.  She\ncould not conceive how so much importance should be given to what seemed\nto have none for her; nor could she honor with the name of virtue, an\nabstinence which would have cost her little.\n\nShe did not, therefore, give in to this false principle on her own\naccount, but for the sake of others; and that from another maxim almost\nas false as the former, but more consonant to the generosity of her\ndisposition.\n\nShe was persuaded that nothing could attach a man so truly to any woman\nas an unbounded freedom, and though she was only susceptible of\nfriendship, this friendship was so tender, that she made use of every\nmeans which depended on her to secure the objects of it, and, which is\nvery extraordinary, almost always succeeded: for she was so truly\namiable, that an increase of intimacy was sure to discover additional\nreasons to love and respect her.  Another thing worthy of remark is,\nthat after her first folly, she only favored the unfortunate.  Lovers in\na more brilliant station lost their labor with her, but the man who at\nfirst attracted her pity, must have possessed very few good qualities if\nin the end he did not obtain her affection.  Even when she made an\nunworthy choice, far from proceeding from base inclinations (which were\nstrangers to her noble heart) it was the effect of a disposition too\ngenerous, humane, compassionate, and sensible, which she did not always\ngovern with sufficient discernment.\n\nIf some false principles misled her, how many admirable ones did she not\npossess, which never forsook her!  By how many virtues did she atone for\nher failings! if we can call by that name errors in which the senses had\nso little share.  The man who in one particular deceived her so\ncompletely, had given her excellent instructions in a thousand others;\nand her passions, being far from turbulent, permitted her to follow the\ndictates.  She ever acted wisely when her sophisms did not intervene, and\nher designs were laudable even in her failings.  False principles might\nlead her to do ill, but she never did anything which she conceived to be\nwrong.  She abhorred lying and duplicity, was just, equitable, humane,\ndisinterested, true to her word, her friends, and those duties which she\nconceived to be such; incapable of hatred or revenge, and not even\nconceiving there was a merit in pardoning; in fine (to return to those\nqualities which were less excusable), though she did not properly value,\nshe never made a vile commerce of her favors; she lavished, but never\nsold them, though continually reduced to expedients for a subsistence:\nand I dare assert, that if Socrates could esteem Aspasia, he would have\nrespected Madam de Warrens.\n\nI am well aware that ascribing sensibility of heart with coldness of\ntemperament to the same person, I shall generally, and with great\nappearance of reason, be accused of a contradiction.  Perhaps Nature\nsported or blundered, and this combination ought not to have existed;\nI only know it did exist.  All those who know Madam de Warrens (a great\nnumber of whom are yet living) have had opportunities of knowing this was\na fact; I dare even aver she had but one pleasure in the world, which was\nserving those she loved.  Let every one argue on the point as he pleases,\nand gravely prove that this cannot be; my business is to declare the\ntruth, and not to enforce a belief of it.\n\nI became acquainted with the particulars I have just related, in those\nconversations which succeeded our union, and alone rendered it delicious.\nShe was right when she concluded her complaisance would be useful to me;\nI derived great advantages from it in point of useful instruction.\nHitherto she had used me as a child, she now began to treat me as a man,\nand entertain me with accounts of herself.  Everything she said was so\ninteresting, and I was so sensibly touched with it, that, reasoning with\nmyself, I applied these confidential relations to my own improvement and\nreceived more instruction from them than from her teaching.  When we\ntruly feel that the heart speaks, our own opens to receive its\ninstructions, nor can all the pompous morality of a pedagogue have half\nthe effect that is produced by the tender, affectionate, and artless\nconversation of a sensible woman on him who loves her.\n\nThe intimacy in which I lived with Madam de Warrens, having placed me\nmore advantageously in her opinion than formerly, she began to think\n(notwithstanding my awkward manner) that I deserved cultivation for the\npolite world, and that if I could one day show myself there in an\neligible situation, I should soon be able to make my way.  In consequence\nof this idea, she set about forming not only my judgment, but my address,\nendeavoring to render me amiable, as well as estimable; and if it is true\nthat success in this world is consistent with strict virtue (which, for\nmy part, I do not believe), I am certain there is no other road than that\nshe had taken, and wished to point out to me.  For Madam de Warrens knew\nmankind, and understood exquisitely well the art of treating all ranks,\nwithout falsehood, and without imprudence, neither deceiving nor\nprovoking them; but this art was rather in her disposition than her\nprecepts, she knew better how to practise than explain it, and I was of\nall the world the least calculated to become master of such an\nattainment; accordingly, the means employed for this purpose were nearly\nlost labor, as well as the pains she took to procure me a fencing and a\ndancing master.\n\nThough very well made, I could never learn to dance a minuet; for being\nplagued with corns, I had acquired a habit of walking on my heels, which\nRoche, the dancing master, could never break me of.  It was still worse\nat the fencing-school, where, after three months' practice, I made but\nvery little progress, and could never attempt fencing with any but my\nmaster.  My wrist was not supple enough, nor my arm sufficiently firm to\nretain the foil, whenever he chose to make it fly out of my hand.  Add to\nthis, I had a mortal aversion both to the art itself and to the person\nwho undertook to teach it to me, nor should I ever have imagined, that\nanyone could have been so proud of the science of sending men out of the\nworld.  To bring this vast genius within the compass of my comprehension,\nhe explained himself by comparisons drawn from music, which he understood\nnothing of.  He found striking analogies between a hit in 'quarte' or\n'tierce' with the intervals of music which bears those names: when he\nmade a feint he cried out, \"take care of this 'diesis',\" because\nanciently they called the 'diesis' a feint: and when he had made the foil\nfly from my hand, he would add, with a sneer, that this was a pause: in a\nword, I never in my life saw a more insupportable pedant.\n\nI made, therefore, but little progress in my exercises, which I presently\nquitted from pure disgust; but I succeeded better in an art of a thousand\ntimes more value, namely, that of being content with my situation, and\nnot desiring one more brilliant, for which I began to be persuaded that\nNature had not designed me.  Given up to the endeavor of rendering Madam\nde Warrens happy, I was ever best pleased when in her company, and,\nnotwithstanding my fondness for music, began to grudge the time I\nemployed in giving lessons to my scholars.\n\nI am ignorant whether Anet perceived the full extent of our union; but I\nam inclined to think he was no stranger to it.  He was a young man of\ngreat penetration, and still greater discretion; who never belied his\nsentiments, but did not always speak them: without giving me the least\nhint that he was acquainted with our intimacy, he appeared by his conduct\nto be so; nor did this moderation proceed from baseness of soul, but,\nhaving entered entirely into the principles of his mistress, he could not\nreasonably disapprove of the natural consequences of them.  Though as\nyoung as herself, he was so grave and thoughtful, that he looked on us as\ntwo children who required indulgence, and we regarded him as a\nrespectable man, whose esteem we had to preserve.  It was not until after\nshe was unfaithful to Anet, that I learned the strength of her attachment\nto him.  She was fully sensible that I only thought, felt, or lived for\nher; she let me see, therefore, how much she loved Anet, that I might\nlove him likewise, and dwell less on her friendship, than on her esteem,\nfor him, because this was the sentiment that I could most fully partake\nof.  How often has she affected our hearts and made us embrace with\ntears, by assuring us that we were both necessary to her happiness!\nLet not women read this with an ill-natured smile; with the temperament\nshe possessed, this necessity was not equivocal, it was only that of the\nheart.\n\nThus there was established, among us three, a union without example,\nperhaps, on the face of the earth.  All our wishes, our cares, our very\nhearts, were for each other, and absolutely confined to this little\ncircle.  The habit of living together, and living exclusively from the\nrest of the world, became so strong, that if at our repasts one of the\nthree was wanting, or a fourth person came in, everything seemed\nderanged; and, notwithstanding our particular attachments, even our\ntete-a-tete were less agreeable than our reunion.  What banished every\nspecies of constraint from our little community, was a lively reciprocal\nconfidence, and dulness or insipidity could find no place among us,\nbecause we were always fully employed.  Madam de Warrens always\nprojecting, always busy, left us no time for idleness, though, indeed,\nwe had each sufficient employment on our own account.  It is my maxim,\nthat idleness is as much the pest of society as of solitude.  Nothing\nmore contracts the mind, or engenders more tales, mischief, gossiping,\nand lies, than for people to be eternally shut up in the same apartment\ntogether, and reduced, from the want of employment, to the necessity of\nan incessant chat.  When every one is busy (unless you have really\nsomething to say), you may continue silent; but if you have nothing to\ndo, you must absolutely speak continually, and this, in my mind, is the\nmost burdensome and the most dangerous constraint.  I will go further,\nand maintain, that to render company harmless, as well as agreeable, it\nis necessary, not only that they should have something to do, but\nsomething that requires a degree of attention.\n\nKnitting, for instance, is absolutely as bad as doing nothing; you must\ntake as much pains to amuse a woman whose fingers are thus employed, as\nif she sat with her arms crossed; but let her embroider, and it is a\ndifferent matter; she is then so far busied, that a few intervals of\nsilence may be borne with.  What is most disgusting and ridiculous,\nduring these intermissions of conversation, is to see, perhaps, a dozen\nover-grown fellows, get up, sit down again, walk backwards and forwards,\nturn on their heels, play with the chimney ornaments, and rack their\nbrains to maintain an inexhaustible chain of words: what a charming\noccupation!  Such people, wherever they go, must be troublesome both to\nothers and themselves.  When I was at Motiers, I used to employ myself in\nmaking laces with my neighbors, and were I again to mix with the world,\nI would always carry a cup-and-ball in my pocket; I should sometimes play\nwith it the whole day, that I might not be constrained to speak when I\nhad nothing to discourse about; and I am persuaded, that if every one\nwould do the same, mankind would be less mischievous, their company would\nbecome more rational, and, in my opinion, a vast deal more agreeable;\nin a word, let wits laugh if they please, but I maintain, that the only\npractical lesson of morality within the reach of the present age, is that\nof the cup-and-ball.\n\nAt Chambery they did not give us the trouble of studying expedients to\navoid weariness, when by ourselves, for a troop of important visitors\ngave us too much by their company, to feel any when alone.  The annoyance\nthey formerly gave me had not diminished; all the difference was, that I\nnow found less opportunity to abandon myself to my dissatisfaction.\nPoor Madam de Warrens had not lost her old predilection for schemes and\nsystems; on the contrary, the more she felt the pressure of her domestic\nnecessities, the more she endeavored to extricate herself from them by\nvisionary projects; and, in proportion to the decrease of her present\nresources, she contrived to enlarge, in idea, those of the future.\nIncrease of years only strengthened this folly: as she lost her relish\nfor the pleasures of the world and youth, she replaced it by an\nadditional fondness for secrets and projects; her house was never clear\nof quacks, contrivers of new manufactures, alchemists, projects of all\nkinds and of all descriptions, whose discourses began by a distribution\nof millions and concluded by giving you to understand that they were in\nwant of a crown--piece.  No one went from her empty-handed; and what\nastonished me most was, how she could so long support such profusion,\nwithout exhausting the source or wearying her creditors.\n\nHer principal project at the time I am now speaking of was that of\nestablishing a Royal Physical Garden at Chambery, with a Demonstrator\nattached to it; it will be unnecessary to add for whom this office was\ndesigned.  The situation of this city, in the midst of the Alps, was\nextremely favorable to botany, and as Madam de Warrens was always for\nhelping out one project with another, a College of Pharmacy was to be\nadded, which really would have been a very useful foundation in so poor a\ncountry, where apothecaries are almost the only medical practitioners.\nThe retreat of the chief physician, Grossi, to Chambery, on the demise of\nKing Victor, seemed to favor this idea, or perhaps, first suggest it;\nhowever this may be, by flattery and attention she set about managing\nGrossi, who, in fact, was not very manageable, being the most caustic and\nbrutal, for a man who had any pretensions to the quality of a gentleman,\nthat ever I knew.  The reader may judge for himself by two or three\ntraits of character, which I shall add by way of specimen.\n\nHe assisted one day at a consultation with some other doctors, and among\nthe rest, a young gentleman from Annecy, who was physician in ordinary to\nthe sick person.  This young man, being but indifferently taught for a\ndoctor, was bold enough to differ in opinion from M. Grossi, who only\nanswered him by asking him when he should return, which way he meant to\ntake, and what conveyance he should make use of?  The other, having\nsatisfied Grossi in these particulars, asked him if there was anything he\ncould serve him in?  \"Nothing, nothing,\" answered he, \"only I shall place\nmyself at a window in your way, that I may have the pleasure of seeing an\nass ride on horseback.\"  His avarice equalled his riches and want of\nfeeling.  One of his friends wanted to borrow some money of him, on good\nsecurity.  \"My friend,\" answered he, shaking him by the arm, and grinding\nhis teeth, \"Should St. Peter descend from heaven to borrow ten pistoles\nof me, and offer the Trinity as securities, I would not lend them.\"  One\nday, being invited to dinner with Count Picon, Governor of Savoy, who was\nvery religious, he arrived before it was ready, and found his excellency\nbusy with his devotions, who proposed to him the same employment; not\nknowing how to refuse, he knelt down with a frightful grimace, but had\nhardly recited two Ave-Marias, when, not being able to contain himself\nany longer, he rose hastily, snatched his hat and cane, and without\nspeaking a word, was making toward the door; Count Picon ran after him,\ncrying, \"Monsieur Grossi!  Monsieur Grossi! stop, there's a most\nexcellent ortolan on the spit for you.\"  \"Monsieur le Count,\" replied the\nother, turning his head, \"though you should give me a roasted angel, I\nwould not stay.\"  Such was M. Grossi, whom Madam de Warrens undertook and\nsucceeded in civilizing.  Though his time was very much occupied, he\naccustomed himself to come frequently to her house, conceived a\nfriendship for Anet, seemed to think him intelligent, spoke of him with\nesteem, and, what would not have been expected of such a brute, affected\nto treat him with respect, wishing to efface the impressions of the past;\nfor though Anet was no longer on the footing of a domestic, it was known\nthat he had been one, and nothing less than the countenance and example\nof the chief physician was necessary to set an example of respect which\nwould not otherwise have been paid him.  Thus Claude Anet, with a black\ncoat, a well-dressed wig, a grave, decent behavior, a circumspect\nconduct, and a tolerable knowledge in medical and botanical matters,\nmight reasonably have hoped to fill, with universal satisfaction,\nthe place of public demonstrator, had the proposed establishment taken\nplace.  Grossi highly approved the plan, and only waited an opportunity\nto propose it to the administration, whenever a return of peace should\npermit them to think of useful institutions, and enable them to spare the\nnecessary pecuniary supplies.\n\nBut this project, whose execution would probably have plunged me into\nbotanical studies, for which I am inclined to think Nature designed me,\nfailed through one of those unexpected strokes which frequently overthrow\nthe best concerted plans.  I was destined to become an example of human\nmisery; and it might be said that Providence, who called me by degrees to\nthese extraordinary trials, disconcerted every opportunity that could\nprevent my encountering them.\n\nIn an excursion which Anet made to the top of the mountain to seek for\ngenipi, a scarce plant that grows only on the Alps, and which Monsieur\nGrossi had occasion for, unfortunately he heated himself so much, that he\nwas seized with a pleurisy, which the genipi could not relieve, though\nsaid to be specific in that disorder; and, notwithstanding all the art of\nGrossi (who certainly was very skillful), and all the care of his good\nmistress and myself, he died the fifth day of his disorder, in the most\ncruel agonies.  During his illness he had no exhortations but mine,\nbestowed with such transports of grief and zeal, that had he been in a\nstate to understand them, they must have been some consolation to him.\nThus I lost the firmest friend I ever had; a man estimable and\nextraordinary; in whom Nature supplied the defects of education, and who\n(though in a state of servitude) possessed all the virtues necessary to\nform a great man, which, perhaps, he would have shown himself, and been\nacknowledged, had he lived to fill the situation he seemed so perfectly\nadapted to.\n\nThe next day I spoke of him to Madam de Warrens with the most sincere and\nlively affection; when, suddenly, in the midst of our conversation, the\nvile, ungrateful thought occurred, that I should inherit his wardrobe,\nand particularly a handsome black coat, which I thought very becoming.\nAs I thought this, I consequently uttered it; for when with her, to think\nand to speak was the same thing.  Nothing could have made her feel more\nforcibly the loss she had sustained, than this unworthy and odious\nobservation; disinterestedness and greatness of soul being qualities that\npoor Anet had eminently possessed.  The generous Madam de Warrens turned\nfrom me, and (without any reply) burst into tears.  Dear and precious\ntears! your reprehension was fully felt; ye ran into my very heart,\nwashing from thence even the smallest traces of such despicable and\nunworthy sentiments, never to return.\n\nThis loss caused Madam de Warrens as much inconvenience as sorrow,\nsince from this moment her affairs were still more deranged.  Anet was\nextremely exact, and kept everything in order; his vigilance was\nuniversally feared, and this set some bounds to that profusion they were\ntoo apt to run into; even Madam de Warrens, to avoid his censure,\nkept her dissipation within bounds; his attachment was not sufficient,\nshe wished to preserve his esteem, and avoid the just remonstrances he\nsometimes took the liberty to make her, by representing that she\nsquandered the property of others as well as her own.  I thought as he\ndid, nay, I even sometimes expressed myself to the same effect, but had\nnot an equal ascendancy over her, and my advice did not make the same\nimpression.  On his decease, I was obliged to occupy his place, for which\nI had as little inclination as abilities, and therefore filled it ill.\nI was not sufficiently careful, and so very timid, that though I\nfrequently found fault to myself, I saw ill-management without taking\ncourage to oppose it; besides, though I acquired an equal share of\nrespect, I had not the same authority.  I saw the disorder that\nprevailed, trembled at it, sometimes complained, but was never attended\nto.  I was too young and lively to have any pretensions to the exercise\nof reason, and when I would have acted the reformer, Madam de Warrens\ncalling me her little Mentor, with two or three playful slaps on the\ncheek, reduced me to my natural thoughtlessness.  Notwithstanding,\nan idea of the certain distress in which her ill-regulated expenses,\nsooner or later, must necessarily plunge her, made a stronger impression\non me since I had become the inspector of her household, and had a better\nopportunity of calculating the inequality that subsisted between her\nincome and her expenses.  I even date from this period the beginning of\nthat inclination to avarice which I have ever since been sensible of.\nI was never foolishly prodigal, except by intervals; but till then I was\nnever concerned whether I had much or little money.  I now began to pay\nmore attention to this circumstance, taking care of my purse, and\nbecoming mean from a laudable motive; for I only sought to insure Madam\nde Warrens some resources against that catastrophe which I dreaded the\napproach of.  I feared her creditors would seize her pension or that it\nmight be discontinued and she reduced to want, when I foolishly imagined\nthat the trifle I could save might be of essential service to her; but to\naccomplish this, it was necessary I should conceal what I meant to make a\nreserve of; for it would have been an awkward circumstance, while she was\nperpetually driven to expedients, to have her know that I hoarded money.\nAccordingly, I sought out some hiding-place, where I laid up a few louis,\nresolving to augment this stock from time to time, till a convenient\nopportunity to lay it at her feet; but I was so incautious in the choice\nof my repositories, that she always discovered them, and, to convince me\nthat she did so, changed the louis I had concealed for a larger sum in\ndifferent pieces of coin.  Ashamed of these discoveries, I brought back\nto the common purse my little treasure, which she never failed to lay out\nin clothes, or other things for my use, such as a silver hilted sword,\nwatch, etc.  Being convinced that I should never succeed in accumulating\nmoney, and that what I could save would furnish but a very slender\nresource against the misfortune I dreaded, made me wish to place myself\nin such a situation that I might be enabled to provide for her, whenever\nshe might chance to be reduced to want.  Unhappily, seeking these\nresources on the side of my inclinations, I foolishly determined to\nconsider music as my principal dependence; and ideas of harmony rising in\nmy brain, I imagined, that if placed in a proper situation to profit by\nthem, I should acquire celebrity, and presently become a modern Orpheus,\nwhose mystic sounds would attract all the riches of Peru.\n\nAs I began to read music tolerably well, the question was, how I should\nlearn composition?  The difficulty lay in meeting with a good master,\nfor, with the assistance of my Rameau alone, I despaired of ever being\nable to accomplish it; and, since the departure of M. le Maitre, there\nwas nobody in Savoy who understood anything of the principles of harmony.\n\nI am now about to relate another of those inconsequences, which my life\nis full of, and which have so frequently carried me directly from my\ndesigns, even when I thought myself immediately within reach of them.\nVenture had spoken to me in very high terms of the Abbe Blanchard, who\nhad taught him composition; a deserving man, possessed of great talents,\nwho was music-master to the cathedral at Besancon, and is now in that\ncapacity at the Chapel of Versailles.  I therefore determined to go to\nBesancon, and take some lessons from the Abbe Blanchard, and the idea\nappeared so rational to me, that I soon made Madam de Warrens of the same\nopinion, who immediately set about the preparations for my journey, in\nthe same style of profusion with which all her plans were executed.  Thus\nthis project for preventing a bankruptcy, and repairing in future the\nwaste of dissipation, began by causing her to expend eight hundred\nlivres; her ruin being accelerated that I might be put in a condition to\nprevent it.  Foolish as this conduct may appear, the illusion was\ncomplete on my part, and even on hers, for I was persuaded I should labor\nfor her emolument, and she thought she was highly promoting mine.\n\nI expected to find Venture still at Annecy, and promised myself to obtain\na recommendatory letter from him to the Abbe Blanchard; but he had left\nthat place, and I was obliged to content myself in the room of it, with a\nmass in four parts of his composition, which he had left with me.  With\nthis slender recommendation I set out for Besancon by the way of Geneva,\nwhere I saw my relations; and through Nion, where I saw my father, who\nreceived me in his usual manner, and promised to forward my portmanteau,\nwhich, as I travelled on horseback, came after me.  I arrived at\nBesancon, and was kindly received by the Abbe Blanchard, who promised me\nhis instruction, and offered his services in any other particular.  We\nhad just set about our music, when I received a letter from my father,\ninforming me that my portmanteau had been seized and confiscated at\nRousses, a French barrier on the side of Switzerland.  Alarmed at the\nnews, I employed the acquaintance I had formed at Besancon, to learn the\nmotive of this confiscation.  Being certain there was nothing contraband\namong my baggage, I could not conceive on what pretext it could have been\nseized on; at length, however, I learned the rights of the story, which\n(as it is a very curious one) must not be omitted.\n\nI became acquainted at Chambery with a very worthy old man, from Lyons,\nnamed Monsieur Duvivier, who had been employed at the Visa, under the\nregency, and for want of other business, now assisted at the Survey.  He\nhad lived in the polite world, possessed talents, was good-humored, and\nunderstood music.  As we both wrote in the same chamber, we preferred\neach other's acquaintance to that of the unlicked cubs that surrounded\nus.  He had some correspondents at Paris, who furnished him with those\nlittle nothings, those daily novelties, which circulate one knows not\nwhy, and die one cares not when, without any one thinking of them longer\nthan they are heard.  As I sometimes took him to dine with Madam de\nWarrens, he in some measure treated me with respect, and (wishing to\nrender himself agreeable) endeavored to make me fond of these trifles,\nfor which I naturally had such a distaste, that I never in my life read\nany of them.  Unhappily one of these cursed papers happened to be in the\nwaistcoat pocket of a new suit, which I had only worn two or three times\nto prevent its being seized by the commissioners of the customs.  This\npaper contained an insipid Jansenist parody on that beautiful scene in\nRacine's Mithridates: I had not read ten lines of it, but by\nforgetfulness left it in my pocket, and this caused all my necessaries to\nbe confiscated.  The commissioners at the head of the inventory of my\nportmanteau, set a most pompous verbal process, in which it was taken for\ngranted that this most terrible writing came from Geneva for the sole\npurpose of being printed and distributed in France, and then ran into\nholy invectives against the enemies of God and the Church, and praised\nthe pious vigilance of those who had prevented the execution of these\nmost infernal machinations.  They doubtless found also that my spirits\nsmelt of heresy, for on the strength of this dreadful paper, they were\nall seized, and from that time I never received any account of my\nunfortunate portmanteau.  The revenue officers whom I applied to for this\npurpose required so many instructions, informations, certificates,\nmemorials, etc., etc., that, lost a thousand times in the perplexing\nlabyrinth, I was glad to abandon them entirely.  I feel a real regret for\nnot having preserved this verbal process from the office of Rousses, for\nit was a piece calculated to hold a distinguished rank in the collection\nwhich is to accompany this Work.\n\nThe loss of my necessities immediately brought me back to Chambery,\nwithout having learned anything of the Abbe Blanchard.  Reasoning with\nmyself on the events of this journey, and seeing that misfortunes\nattended all my enterprises, I resolved to attach myself entirely to\nMadam de Warrens, to share her fortune, and distress myself no longer\nabout future events, which I could not regulate.  She received me as if I\nhad brought back treasures, replaced by degrees my little wardrobe, and\nthough this misfortune fell heavy enough on us both, it was forgotten\nalmost as suddenly as it arrived.\n\nThough this mischance had rather dampened my musical ardor, I did not\nleave off studying my Rameau, and, by repeated efforts, was at length\nable to understand it, and to make some little attempts at composition,\nthe success of which encouraged me to proceed.  The Count de Bellegrade,\nson of the Marquis of Antremont, had returned from Dresden after the\ndeath of King Augustus.  Having long resided at Paris, he was fond of\nmusic, and particularly that of Rameau.  His brother, the Count of\nNangis, played on the violin; the Countess la Tour, their sister, sung\ntolerably: this rendered music the fashion at Chambery, and a kind of\npublic concert was established there, the direction of which was at first\ndesigned for me, but they soon discovered I was not competent to the\nundertaking, and it was otherwise arranged.  Notwithstanding this, I\ncontinued writing a number of little pieces, in my own way, and, among\nothers, a cantata, which gained great approbation; it could not, indeed,\nbe called a finished piece, but the airs were written in a style of\nnovelty, and produced a good effect, which was not expected from me.\nThese gentlemen could not believe that, reading music so indifferently,\nit was possible I should compose any that was passable, and made no doubt\nthat I had taken to myself the credit of some other person's labors.\nMonsieur de Nangis, wishing to be assured of this, called on me one\nmorning with a cantata of Clerambault's which he had transposed as he\nsaid, to suit his voice, and to which another bass was necessary, the\ntransposition having rendered that of Clerambault impracticable.  I\nanswered, it required considerable labor, and could not be done on the\nspot.  Being convinced I only sought an excuse, he pressed me to write at\nleast the bass to a recitative: I did so, not well, doubtless, because to\nattempt anything with success I must have both time and freedom, but I\ndid it at least according to rule, and he being present, could not doubt\nbut I understood the elements of composition.  I did not, therefore, lose\nmy scholars, though it hurt my pride that there should be a concert at\nChambery in which I was not necessary.\n\nAbout this time, peace being concluded, the French army repassed the\nAlps.  Several officers came to visit Madam de Warrens, and among others\nthe Count de Lautrec, Colonel of the regiment of Orleans, since\nPlenipotentiary of Geneva, and afterwards Marshal of France, to whom she\npresented me.  On her recommendation, he appeared to interest himself\ngreatly in my behalf, promising a great deal, which he never remembered\ntill the last year of his life, when I no longer stood in need of his\nassistance.  The young Marquis of Sennecterre, whose father was then\nambassador at Turin, passed through Chambery at the same time, and dined\none day at M. de Menthon's, when I happened to be among the guests.\nAfter dinner; the discourse turned on music, which the marquis understood\nextremely well.  The opera of 'Jephtha' was then new; he mentioned this\npiece, it was brought him, and he made me tremble by proposing to execute\nit between us.  He opened the book at that celebrated double chorus,\n\n                    La Terra, l'Enfer, le Ciel meme,\n                    Tout tremble devant le Seigneur!\n\n               [The Earth, and Hell, and Heaven itself,\n               tremble before the Lord!]\n\nHe said, \"How many parts will you take?  I will do these six.\"  I had not\nyet been accustomed to this trait of French vivacity, and though\nacquainted with divisions, could not comprehend how one man could\nundertake to perform six, or even two parts at the same time.  Nothing\nhas cost me more trouble in music than to skip lightly from one part to\nanother, and have the eye at once on a whole division.  By the manner in\nwhich I evaded this trial, he must have been inclined to believe I did\nnot understand music, and perhaps it was to satisfy himself in this\nparticular that he proposed my noting a song for Mademoiselle de Menthon,\nin such a manner that I could not avoid it.  He sang this song, and I\nwrote from his voice, without giving him much trouble to repeat it.  When\nfinished he read my performance, and said (which was very true) that it\nwas very correctly noted.  He had observed my embarrassment, and now\nseemed to enhance the merit of this little success.  In reality, I then\nunderstood music very well, and only wanted that quickness at first sight\nwhich I possess in no one particular, and which is only to be acquired in\nthis art by long and constant practice.  Be that as it may, I was fully\nsensible of his kindness in endeavoring to efface from the minds of\nothers, and even from my own, the embarrassment I had experienced on this\noccasion.  Twelve or fifteen years afterwards, meeting this gentleman at\nseveral houses in Paris, I was tempted to make him recollect this\nanecdote, and show him I still remembered it; but he had lost his sight\nsince that time; I feared to give him pain by recalling to his memory how\nuseful it formerly had been to him, and was therefore silent on that\nsubject.\n\nI now touch on the moment that binds my past existence to the present,\nsome friendships of that period, prolonged to the present time, being\nvery dear to me, have frequently made me regret that happy obscurity,\nwhen those who called themselves my friends were really so; loved me for\nmyself, through pure good will, and not from the vanity of being\nacquainted with a conspicuous character, perhaps for the secret purpose\nof finding more occasions to injure him.\n\nFrom this time I date my first acquaintance with my old friend\nGauffecourt, who, notwithstanding every effort to disunite us, has still\nremained so.--Still remained so!--No, alas!  I have just lost him!--but\nhis affection terminated only with his life--death alone could put a\nperiod to our friendship.  Monsieur de Gauffecourt was one of the most\namiable men that ever existed; it was impossible to see him without\naffection, or to live with him without feeling a sincere attachment.\nIn my life I never saw features more expressive of goodness and serenity,\nor that marked more feeling, more understanding, or inspired greater\nconfidence.  However reserved one might be, it was impossible even at\nfirst sight to avoid being as free with him as if he had been an\nacquaintance of twenty years; for myself, who find so much difficulty\nto be at ease among new faces, I was familiar with him in a moment.\nHis manner, accent, and conversation, perfectly suited his features:\nthe sound of his voice was clear, full and musical; it was an agreeable\nand expressive bass, which satisfied the ear, and sounded full upon the\nheart.  It was impossible to possess a more equal and pleasing vivacity,\nor more real and unaffected gracefulness, more natural talents, or\ncultivated with greater taste; join to all these good qualities an\naffectionate heart, but loving rather too diffusively, and bestowing his\nfavors with too little caution; serving his friends with zeal, or rather\nmaking himself the friend of every one he could serve, yet contriving\nvery dexterously to manage his own affairs, while warmly pursuing the\ninterests of others.\n\nGauffecourt was the son of a clock-maker, and would have been a\nclock-maker himself had not his person and desert called him to a superior\nsituation.  He became acquainted with M. de la Closure, the French\nResident at Geneva, who conceived a friendship for him, and procured him\nsome connections at Paris, which were useful, and through whose influence\nhe obtained the privilege of furnishing the salts of Valais, which was\nworth twenty thousand livres a year.  This very amply satisfied his\nwishes with respect to fortune, but with regard to women he was more\ndifficult; he had to provide for his own happiness, and did what he\nsupposed most conducive to it.  What renders his character most\nremarkable, and does him the greatest honor, is, that though connected\nwith all conditions, he was universally esteemed and sought after without\nbeing envied or hated by any one, and I really believe he passed through\nlife without a single enemy.--Happy man!\n\nHe went every year to the baths of Aix, where the best company from the\nneighboring countries resorted, and being on terms of friendship with all\nthe nobility of Savoy, came from Aix to Chambery to see the young Count\nde Bellegarde and his father the Marquis of Antremont.  It was here Madam\nde Warrens introduced me to him, and this acquaintance, which appeared at\nthat time to end in nothing, after many years had elapsed, was renewed on\nan occasion which I should relate, when it became a real friendship.\nI apprehend I am sufficiently authorized in speaking of a man to whom I\nwas so firmly attached, but I had no personal interest in what concerned\nhim; he was so truly amiable, and born with so many natural good\nqualities that, for the honor of human nature, I should think it\nnecessary to preserve his memory.  This man, estimable as he certainly\nwas, had, like other mortals, some failings, as will be seen hereafter;\nperhaps had it not been so, he would have been less amiable, since,\nto render him as interesting as possible, it was necessary he should\nsometimes act in such a manner as to require a small portion of\nindulgence.\n\nAnother connection of the same time, that is not yet extinguished,\nand continues to flatter me with the idea of temporal happiness,\nwhich it is so difficult to obliterate from the human heart, is Monsieur\nde Conzie, a Savoyard gentleman, then young and amiable, who had a fancy\nto learn music, or rather to be acquainted with the person who taught it.\nWith great understanding and taste for polite acquirements, M. de Conzie\npossessed a mildness of disposition which rendered him extremely\nattractive, and my temper being somewhat similar, when it found a\ncounterpart, our friendship was soon formed.  The seeds of literature and\nphilosophy, which began to ferment in my brain, and only waited for\nculture and emulation to spring up, found in him exactly what was wanting\nto render them prolific.  M. de Conzie had no great inclination to music,\nand even this was useful to me, for the hours destined for lessons were\npassed anyhow rather than musically; we breakfasted, chatted, and read\nnew publications, but not a word of music.\n\nThe correspondence between Voltaire and the Prince Royal of Prussia, then\nmade a noise in the world, and these celebrated men were frequently the\nsubject of our conversation, one of whom recently seated on a throne,\nalready indicated what he would prove himself hereafter, while the other,\nas much disgraced as he is now admired, made us sincerely lament the\nmisfortunes that seemed to pursue him, and which are so frequently the\nappendage of superior talents.  The Prince of Prussia had not been happy\nin his youth, and it appeared that Voltaire was formed never to be so.\nThe interest we took in both parties extended to all that concerned them,\nand nothing that Voltaire wrote escaped us.  The inclination I felt for\nthese performances inspired me with a desire to write elegantly, and\ncaused me to endeavor to imitate the colorings of that author, with whom\nI was so much enchanted.  Some time after, his philosophical letters\n(though certainly not his best work) greatly augmented my fondness for\nstudy; it was a rising inclination, which, from that time, has never been\nextinguished.\n\nBut the moment was not yet arrived when I should give into it entirely;\nmy rambling disposition (rather contracted than eradicated) being kept\nalive by our manner of living at Madam de Warrens, which was too\nunsettled for one of my solitary temper.  The crowd of strangers who\ndaily swarmed about her from all parts, and the certainty I was in that\nthese people sought only to dupe her, each in his particular mode,\nrendered home disagreeable.  Since I had succeeded Anet in the confidence\nof his mistress, I had strictly examined her circumstances, and saw their\nevil tendency with horror.  I had remonstrated a hundred times, prayed,\nargued, conjured, but all to no purpose.  I had thrown myself at her\nfeet, and strongly represented the catastrophe that threatened her, had\nearnestly entreated that she would reform her expenses, and begin with\nmyself, representing that it was better to suffer something while she was\nyet young, than by multiplying her debts and creditors, expose her old\nage to vexation and misery.\n\nSensible of the sincerity of my zeal, she was frequently affected, and\nwould then make the finest promises in the world: but only let an artful\nschemer arrive, and in an instant all her good resolutions were\nforgotten.  After a thousand proofs of the inefficacy of my\nremonstrances, what remained but to turn away my eyes from the ruin\nI could not prevent; and fly myself from the door I could not guard!\nI made therefore little journeys to Geneva and Lyons, which diverted my\nmind in some measure from this secret uneasiness, though it increased the\ncause by these additional expenses.  I can truly aver that I should have\nacquiesed with pleasure in every retrenchment, had Madam de Warrens\nreally profited by it, but being persuaded that what I might refuse\nmyself would be distributed among a set of interested villains, I took\nadvantage of her easiness to partake with them, and, like the dog\nreturning from the shambles, carried off a portion of that morsel which I\ncould not protect.\n\nPretences were not wanting for all these journeys; even Madam de Warrens\nwould alone have supplied me with more than were necessary, having plenty\nof connections, negotiations, affairs, and commissions, which she wished\nto have executed by some trusty hand.  In these cases she usually applied\nto me; I was always willing to go, and consequently found occasions\nenough to furnish out a rambling kind of life.  These excursions procured\nme some good connections, which have since been agreeable or useful to\nme.  Among others, I met at Lyons, with M. Perrichon, whose friendship I\naccuse myself with not having sufficiently cultivated, considering the\nkindness he had for me; and that of the good Parisot, which I shall speak\nof in its place, at Grenoble, that of Madam Deybens and Madam la\nPresidente de Bardonanche, a woman of great understanding, and who would\nhave entertained a friendship for me had it been in my power to have seen\nher oftener; at Geneva, that of M. de Closure, the French Resident, who\noften spoke to me of my mother, the remembrance of whom neither death nor\ntime had erased from his heart; likewise those of the two Barillots, the\nfather, who was very amiable, a good companion, and one of the most\nworthy men I ever met, calling me his grandson.  During the troubles of\nthe republic, these two citizens took contrary sides, the son siding with\nthe people, the father with the magistrates.  When they took up arms in\n1737, I was at Geneva, and saw the father and son quit the same house\narmed, the one going to the townhouse, the other to his quarters, almost\ncertain to meet face to face in the course of two hours, and prepared to\ngive or receive death from each other.  This unnatural sight made so\nlively an impression on me, that I solemnly vowed never to interfere in\nany civil war, nor assist in deciding our internal dispute by arms,\neither personally or by my influence, should I ever enter into my rights\nas a citizen.  I can bring proofs of having kept this oath on a very\ndelicate occasion, and it will be confessed (at least I should suppose\nso) that this moderation was of some worth.\n\nBut I had not yet arrived at that fermentation of patriotism which the\nfirst sight of Geneva in arms has since excited in my heart, as may be\nconjectured by a very grave fact that will not tell to my advantage,\nwhich I forgot to put in its proper place, but which ought not to be\nomitted.\n\nMy uncle Bernard died at Carolina, where he had been employed some years\nin the building of Charles Town, which he had formed the plan of.  My\npoor cousin, too, died in the Prussian service; thus my aunt lost, nearly\nat the same period, her son and husband.  These losses reanimated in some\nmeasure her affection for the nearest relative she had remaining, which\nwas myself.  When I went to Geneva, I reckoned her house my home, and\namused myself with rummaging and turning over the books and papers my\nuncle had left.  Among them I found some curious ones, and some letters\nwhich they certainly little thought of.  My aunt, who set no store by\nthese dusty papers, would willingly have given the whole to me, but I\ncontented myself with two or three books, with notes written by the\nMinister Bernard, my grandfather, and among the rest, the posthumous\nworks of Rohault in quarto, the margins of which were full of excellent\ncommentaries, which gave me an inclination to the mathematics.  This book\nremained among those of Madam de Warrens, and I have since lamented that\nI did not preserve it.  To these I added five or six memorials in\nmanuscript, and a printed one, composed by the famous Micheli Ducret, a\nman of considerable talents, being both learned and enlightened, but too\nmuch, perhaps, inclined to sedition, for which he was cruelly treated by\nthe magistrates of Geneva, and lately died in the fortress of Arberg,\nwhere he had been confined many years, for being, as it was said,\nconcerned in the conspiracy of Berne.\n\nThis memorial was a judicious critique on the extensive but ridiculous\nplan of fortification, which had been adopted at Geneva, though censured\nby every person of judgment in the art, who was unacquainted with the\nsecret motives of the council, in the execution of this magnificent\nenterprise.  Monsieur de Micheli, who had been excluded from the\ncommittee of fortification for having condemned this plan, thought that,\nas a citizen, and a member of the two hundred, he might give his advice,\nat large, and therefore, did so in this memorial, which he was imprudent\nenough to have printed, though he never published it, having only those\ncopies struck off which were meant for the two hundred, and which were\nall intercepted at the post-house by order of the Senate.\n\n     [The grand council of Geneva in December, 1728, pronounced this\n     paper highly disrespectful to the councils, and injurious to the\n     committee of fortification.]\n\nI found this memorial among my uncle's papers, with the answer he had\nbeen ordered to make to it, and took both.  This was soon after I had\nleft my place at the survey, and I yet remained on good terms with the\nCounsellor de Coccelli, who had the management of it.  Some time after,\nthe director of the custom-house entreated me to stand godfather to his\nchild, with Madam Coccelli, who was to be godmother: proud of being\nplaced on such terms of equality with the counsellor, I wished to assume\nimportance, and show myself worthy of that honor.\n\nFull of this idea, I thought I could do nothing better than show him\nMicheli's memorial, which was really a scarce piece, and would prove I\nwas connected with people of consequence in Geneva, who were intrusted\nwith the secrets of the state, yet by a kind of reserve which I should\nfind it difficult to account for, I did not show him my uncle's answer,\nperhaps, because it was manuscript, and nothing less than print was\nworthy to approach the counsellor.  He understood, however, so well the\nimportance of this paper, which I had the folly to put into his hands,\nthat I could never after get it into my possession, and being convinced\nthat every effort for that purpose would be ineffectual, I made a merit\nof my forbearance, transforming the theft into a present.  I made no\ndoubt that this writing (more curious, however, than useful) answered his\npurpose at the court of Turin, where probably he took care to be\nreimbursed in some way or other for the expense which the acquisition of\nit might be supposed to have cost him.  Happily, of all future\ncontingencies, the least probable, is, that ever the King of Sardina\nshould besiege Geneva, but as that event is not absolutely impossible, I\nshall ever reproach my foolish vanity with having been the means of\npointing out the greatest defects of that city to its most ancient enemy.\n\nI passed three or four years in this manner, between music, magestry,\nprojects, and journeys, floating incessantly from one object to another,\nand wishing to fix though I knew not on what, but insensibly inclining\ntowards study.  I was acquainted with men of letters, I had heard them\nspeak of literature, and sometimes mingled in the conversation, yet\nrather adopted the jargon of books, than the knowledge they contained.\nIn my excursions to Geneva, I frequently called on my good old friend\nMonsieur Simon, who greatly promoted my rising emulation by fresh news\nfrom the republic of letters, extracted from Baillet or Colomies.  I\nfrequently saw too, at Chambery, a Dominican professor of physic, a good\nkind of friar, whose name I have forgotten, who often made little\nchemical experiments which greatly amused me.  In imitation of him, I\nattempted to make some sympathetic ink, and having for that purpose more\nthan half filled a bottle with quicklime, orpiment, and water, the\neffervescence immediately became extremely violent; I ran to unstop the\nbottle, but had not time to effect it, for, during the attempt, it burst\nin my face like a bomb, and I swallowed so much of the orpiment and lime,\nthat it nearly cost me my life.  I remained blind for six weeks, and by\nthe event of this experiment learned to meddle no more with experimental\nChemistry while the elements were unknown to me.\n\nThis adventure happened very unluckily for my health, which, for some\ntime past, had been visibly on the decline.  This was rather\nextraordinary, as I was guilty of no kind of excess; nor could it have\nbeen expected from my make, for my chest, being well formed and rather\ncapacious, seemed to give my lungs full liberty to play; yet I was short\nbreathed, felt a very sensible oppression, sighed involuntarily, had\npalpitations of the heart, and spitting of blood, accompanied with a\nlingering fever, which I have never since entirely overcome.  How is it\npossible to fall into such a state in the flower of one's age, without\nany inward decay, or without having done anything to destroy health?\n\nIt is sometimes said, \"the sword wears the scabbard,\" this was truly the\ncase with me: the violence of my passions both kept me alive and hastened\nmy dissolution.  What passions?  will be asked: mere nothings: the most\ntrivial objects in nature, but which affected me as forcibly as if the\nacquisition of a Helen, or the throne of the universe were at stake.\nMy senses, for instance, were at ease with one woman, but my heart never\nwas, and the necessities of love consumed me in the very bosom of\nhappiness.  I had a tender, respected and lovely friend, but I sighed for\na mistress; my prolific fancy painted her as such, and gave her a\nthousand forms, for had I conceived that my endearments had been lavished\non Madam de Warrens, they would not have been less tender, though\ninfinitely more tranquil.  But is it possible for man to taste, in their\nutmost extent, the delights of love?  I cannot tell, but I am persuaded\nmy frail existence would have sunk under the weight of them.\n\nI was, therefore, dying for love without an object, and this state,\nperhaps, is, of all others, the most dangerous.  I was likewise uneasy,\ntormented at the bad state of poor Madam de Warrens' circumstances, and\nthe imprudence of her conduct, which could not fail to bring them, in a\nshort time, to total ruin.  My tortured imagination (which ever paints\nmisfortunes in the extremity) continually beheld this in its utmost\nexcess, and in all the horror of its consequences.  I already saw myself\nforced by want to quit her--to whom I had consecrated my future life, and\nwithout whom I could not hope for happiness: thus was my soul continually\nagitated, and hopes and fears devoured me alternately.\n\nMusic was a passion less turbulent, but not less consuming, from the\nardor with which I attached myself to it, by the obstinate study of the\nobscure books of Rameau; by an invincible resolution to charge my memory\nwith rules it could not contain; by continual application, and by long\nand immense compilations which I frequently passed whole nights in\ncopying: but why dwell on these particularly, while every folly that took\npossession of my wandering brain, the most transient ideas of a single\nday, a journey, a concert, a supper, a walk, a novel to read, a play to\nsee, things in the world the least premeditated in my pleasures or\noccupation became for me the most violent passions, which by their\nridiculous impetuosity conveyed the most serious torments; even the\nimaginary misfortunes of Cleveland, read with avidity and frequent\ninterruption, have, I am persuaded, disordered me more than my own.\n\nThere was a Genevese, named Bagueret, who had been employed under Peter\nthe Great, of the court of Russia, one of the most worthless, senseless\nfellows I ever met with; full of projects as foolish as himself, which\nwere to rain down millions on those who took part in them.  This man,\nhaving come to Chambery on account of some suit depending before the\nsenate, immediately got acquainted with Madam de Warrens, and with great\nreason on his side, since for those imaginary treasures that cost him\nnothing, and which he bestowed with the utmost prodigality, he gained,\nin exchange, the unfortunate crown pieces one by one out of her pocket.\nI did not like him, and he plainly perceived this, for with me it is not\na very difficult discovery, nor did he spare any sort of meanness to gain\nmy good will, and among other things proposed teaching me to play at\nchess, which game he understood something of.  I made an attempt, though\nalmost against my inclination, and after several efforts, having learned\nthe march, my progress was so rapid, that before the end of the first\nsitting I gave him the rook, which in the beginning he had given me.\nNothing more was necessary; behold me fascinated with chess!  I buy a\nboard, with the rest of the apparatus, and shutting myself up in my\nchamber, pass whole days and nights in studying all the varieties of the\ngame, being determined by playing alone, without end or relaxation, to\ndrive them into my head, right or wrong.  After incredible efforts,\nduring two or three months passed in this curious employment, I go to the\ncoffee-house, thin, sallow, and almost stupid; I seat myself, and again\nattack M. Bagueret: he beats me, once, twice, twenty times; so many\ncombinations were fermenting in my head, and my imagination was so\nstupefied, that all appeared confusion.  I tried to exercise myself with\nPhitidor's or Stamina's book of instructions, but I was still equally\nperplexed, and, after having exhausted myself with fatigue, was further\nto seek than ever, and whether I abandoned my chess for a time, or\nresolved to surmount every difficulty by unremitted practice, it was the\nsame thing.  I could never advance one step beyond the improvement of the\nfirst sitting, nay, I am convinced that had I studied it a thousand ages,\nI should have ended by being able to give Bagueret the rook and nothing\nmore.\n\nIt will be said my time was well employed, and not a little of it passed\nin this occupation, nor did I quit my first essay till unable to persist\nin it, for on leaving my apartment I had the appearance of a corpse, and\nhad I continued this course much longer I should certainly have been one.\n\nAny one will allow that it would have been extraordinary, especially in\nthe ardor of youth, that such a head should suffer the body to enjoy\ncontinued health; the alteration of mine had an effect on my temper,\nmoderating the ardor of my chimerical fancies, for as I grew weaker they\nbecame more tranquil, and I even lost, in some measure, my rage for\ntravelling.  I was not seized with heaviness, but melancholy; vapors\nsucceeded passions, languor became sorrow: I wept and sighed without\ncause, and felt my life ebbing away before I had enjoyed it.  I only\ntrembled to think of the situation in which I should leave my dear Madam\nde Warrens; and I can truly say, that quitting her, and leaving her in\nthese melancholy circumstances, was my only concern.  At length I fell\nquite ill, and was nursed by her as never mother nursed a child.  The\ncare she took of me was of real utility to her affairs, since it diverted\nher mind from schemes, and kept projectors at a distance.  How pleasing\nwould death have been at that time, when, if I had not tasted many of the\npleasures of life, I had felt but few of its misfortunes.  My tranquil\nsoul would have taken her flight, without having experienced those cruel\nideas of the injustice of mankind which embitters both life and death.\nI should have enjoyed the sweet consolation that I still survived in the\ndearer part of myself: in the situation I then was, it could hardly be\ncalled death; and had I been divested of my uneasiness on her account,\nit would have appeared but a gentle sleep; yet even these disquietudes\nhad such an affectionate and tender turn, that their bitterness was\ntempered by a pleasing sensibility.  I said to her, \"You are the\ndepository of my whole being, act so that I may be happy.\"  Two or three\ntimes, when my disorder was most violent, I crept to her apartment to\ngive her my advice respecting her future conduct; and I dare affirm these\nadmonitions were both wise and equitable, in which the interest I took in\nher future concerns was strongly marked.  As if tears had been both\nnourishment and medicine, I found myself the better for those I shed with\nher, while seated on her bed-side, and holding her hands between mine.\nThe hours crept insensibly away in these nocturnal discourses; I returned\nto my chamber better than I had quitted it, being content and calmed by\nthe promises she made, and the hopes with which she had inspired me:\nI slept on them with my heart at peace, and fully resigned to the\ndispensations of Providence.  God grant, that after having had so many\nreasons to hate life, after being agitated with so many storms, after it\nhas even become a burden, that death, which must terminate all, may be no\nmore terrible than it would have been at that moment!\n\nBy inconceivable care and vigilance, she saved my life; and I am\nconvinced she alone could have done this.  I have little faith in the\nskill of physicians, but depend greatly on the assistance of real\nfriends, and am persuaded that being easy in those particulars on which\nour happiness depends, is more salutary than any other application.  If\nthere is a sensation in life peculiarly delightful, we experienced it in\nbeing restored to each other; our mutual attachment did not increase, for\nthat was impossible, but it became, I know not how, more exquisitely\ntender, fresh softness being added to its former simplicity.  I became in\na manner her work; we got into the habit, though without design, of being\ncontinually with each other, and enjoying, in some measure, our whole\nexistence together, feeling reciprocally that we were not only necessary,\nbut entirely sufficient for each other's happiness.  Accustomed to think\nof no subject foreign to ourselves, our happiness and all our desires\nwere confined to that pleasing and singular union, which, perhaps, had no\nequal, which is not, as I have before observed, love, but a sentiment\ninexpressibly more intimate, neither depending on the senses, age, nor\nfigure, but an assemblage of every endearing sensation that composes our\nrational existence and which can cease only with our being.\n\nHow was it that this delightful crisis did not secure our mutual felicity\nfor the remainder of her life and mine?  I have the consoling conviction\nthat it was not my fault; nay, I am persuaded, she did not wilfully\ndestroy it; the invincible peculiarity of my disposition was doomed soon\nto regain its empire; but this fatal return was not suddenly\naccomplished, there was, thank Heaven, a short but precious interval,\nthat did not conclude by my fault, and which I cannot reproach myself\nwith having employed amiss.\n\nThough recovered from my dangerous illness, I did not regain my strength;\nmy stomach was weak, some remains of the fever kept me in a languishing\ncondition, and the only inclination I was sensible of, was to end my days\nnear one so truly dear to me; to confirm her in those good resolutions\nshe had formed; to convince her in what consisted the real charms of a\nhappy life, and, as far as depended on me, to render hers so; but I\nforesaw that in a gloomy, melancholy house, the continual solitude of our\ntete-a-tetes would at length become too dull and monotonous: a remedy\npresented itself: Madam de Warrens had prescribed milk for me, and\ninsisted that I should take it in the country; I consented, provided she\nwould accompany me; nothing more was necessary to gain her compliance,\nand whither we should go was all that remained to be determined on.  Our\ngarden (which I have before mentioned) was not properly in the country,\nbeing surrounded by houses and other gardens, and possessing none of\nthose attractions so desirable in a rural retreat; besides, after the\ndeath of Anet, we had given up this place from economical principles,\nfeeling no longer a desire to rear plants, and other views making us not\nregret the loss of that little retreat.  Improving the distaste I found\nshe began to imbibe for the town, I proposed to abandon it entirely, and\nsettle ourselves in an agreeable solitude, in some small house, distant\nenough from the city to avoid the perpetual intrusion of her hangers-on.\nShe followed my advice, and this plan, which her good angel and mine\nsuggested, might fully have secured our happiness and tranquility till\ndeath had divided us--but this was not the state we were appointed to;\nMadam de Warrens was destined to endure all the sorrows of indigence and\npoverty, after having passed the former part of her life in abundance,\nthat she might learn to quit it with the less regret; and myself, by an\nassemblage of misfortunes of all kinds, was to become a striking example\nto those who, inspired with a love of justice and the public good, and\ntrusting too implicitly to their own innocence, shall openly dare to\nassert truth to mankind, unsupported by cabals, or without having\npreviously formed parties to protect them.\n\nAn unhappy fear furnished some objections to our plan: she did not dare\nto quit her ill-contrived house, for fear of displeasing the proprietor.\n\"Your proposed retirement is charming,\" said she, \"and much to my taste,\nbut we are necessitated to remain here, for, on quitting this dungeon,\nI hazard losing the very means of life, and when these fail us in the\nwoods, we must again return to seek them in the city.  That we may have\nthe least possible cause for being reduced to this necessity, let us not\nleave this house entirely, but pay a small pension to the Count of\nSaint-Laurent, that he may continue mine.  Let us seek some little\nhabitation, far enough from the town to be at peace, yet near enough to\nreturn when it may appear convenient.\"\n\nThis mode was finally adopted; and after some small search, we fixed at\nCharmettes, on an estate belonging to M. de Conzie, at a very small\ndistance from Chambery; but as retired and solitary as if it had been a\nhundred leagues off.  The spot we had concluded on was a valley between\ntwo tolerably high hills, which ran north and south; at the bottom, among\nthe trees and pebbles, ran a rivulet, and above the declivity, on either\nside, were scattered a number of houses, forming altogether a beautiful\nretreat for those who love a peaceful romantic asylum.  After having\nexamined two or three of these houses, we chose that which we thought the\nmost pleasing, which was the property of a gentleman of the army, called\nM. Noiret.  This house was in good condition, before it a garden, forming\na terrace; below that on the declivity an orchard, and on the ascent,\nbehind the house, a vineyard: a little wood of chestnut trees opposite; a\nfountain just by, and higher up the hill, meadows for the cattle; in\nshort, all that could be thought necessary for the country retirement we\nproposed to establish.  To the best of my remembrance, we took possession\nof it toward the latter end of the summer Of 1736.  I was delighted on\ngoing to sleep there--\"Oh!\"  said I, to this dear friend, embracing her\nwith tears of tenderness and delight, \"this is the abode of happiness and\ninnocence; if we do not find them here together it will be in vain to\nseek them elsewhere.\"","title":"The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau \u2014 Volume 05","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":20532}