 Section 1 of Confessions. Volumes 3 and 4. Confessions. Volumes 3 and 4. By Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Anonymously translated. Section 1. Volume 3. Leaving the service of Madame de Vercellice, nearly as I had entered it, I returned to my former hostess and remained there five or six weeks, during which time health, youth and laziness frequently rendered my temperament importunate. I was restless, absent and thoughtful. I wept and sighed for a happiness I had no idea of, though at the same time highly sensible of some deficiency. This situation is indescribable. Few men can even form any conception of it, because in general they have prevented that plenitude of life at once tormenting and delicious. My thoughts were incessantly occupied with girls and women, but in a manner peculiar to myself. These ideas kept my senses in a perpetual and disagreeable activity, though fortunately they did not point out the means of deliverance. I would have given my life to have met with the Mademoiselle Gauton, but the time was passed in which the play of infancy predominated. Increase of years had introduced shame, the inseparable companion of a conscious deviation from rectitude, which so confirmed my natural timidity as to render it invincible. And never, either at that time or since, could I prevail on myself to offer a proposition favourable to my wishes, unless in a manner constrained to it by previous advances, even with those whose scruples I had no cause to dread. My stay at Madame de Versailles's had procured me some acquaintance, which I thought might be serviceable to me, and therefore wished to retain. Among others I sometimes visited a Savoyard Abbey, Monsieur Gemme, who was tutor to the court de Melaret's children. He was young, and not much known, but possessed an excellent cultivated understanding, with great probity, and was altogether one of the best men I ever knew. He was incapable of doing me the service I then stood most in need of, not having sufficient interest to procure me a situation, but from him I reaped advantages far more precious, which have been useful to me through life, lessons of pure morality, and maxims of sound judgment. In the successive order of my inclinations and ideas I had ever been too high or too low, Achilles or Thurcities, sometimes a hero at others a villain, Monsieur Gemme took pains to make me properly acquainted with myself, without sparing or giving me too much discouragement. He spoke in advantageous terms of my disposition and talents, adding that he foresaw obstacles which would prevent my profiting by them. Thus, according to him, they were to serve less as steps by which I should mount to fortune than as resources which might enable me to exist without one. He gave me a true picture of human life, of which hitherto I had formed but a very erroneous idea, teaching me that a man of understanding, though destined to experience adverse fortune, might, by skillful management, arrive at happiness, that there was no true felicity without virtue which was practicable in every situation. He greatly diminished my admiration of grandeur, by proving that those in a superior situation are neither better nor happier than those they command. One of his maxims has frequently returned to my memory. It was that if we could truly read the hearts of others, we should feel more inclination to descend than rise. This reflection, the truth of which is striking without extravagance, I have found of great utility in the various exigencies of my life, as it tended to make me satisfied with my condition. He gave me the first just conception of relative duties which my high-flown imagination had ever pictured in extremes, making me sensible that the enthusiasm of sublime virtues is of little use in society, that while endeavouring to rise too high, we are in danger of falling, and that a virtuous and uniform discharge of little duties requires as great a degree of fortitude as actions which are called heroic, and would at the same time procure more honour and happiness, that it was infinitely more desirable to possess the lasting esteem of those about us than at intervals to attract admiration. In properly arranging the various duties between man and man, it was necessary to ascend to principles, the step I had recently taken, and of which my present situation was the consequence, naturally led us to speak of religion. It will easily be conceived that the honest Monsieur Gem was in a great measure the original of the Savoyard Vicar, prudence only obliging him to deliver his sentiments on certain points with more caution and reserve, and explain himself with less freedom. But his sentiments and counsels were the same, not even accepting his advice to return to my country. All was precisely as I have given it to the public. Dwelling no longer, therefore, on conversations which everyone may see the substance of, I shall only add that these wise instructions, though they did not produce an immediate effect, where are so many seeds of virtue and religion in my heart which were never rooted out, and only required the fostering cares of friendship to bring to maturity. Though my conversation was not very sincere, I was affected by his discourses, and far from being weary was pleased with them on account of their clearness and simplicity. But above all, because his heart seemed interested in what he said, my disposition is naturally tender. I have ever been less attached to people for the good they have really done me, than for that they designed to do. And my feelings in this particular have seldom misled me. Thus I truly esteemed Mr. Gem. I was in a manner his second disciple, which even at that time was of inestimable service in turning me from a propensity to vice into which my idleness was leading me. One day, when I least expected it, I was sent for by the court de l'Arrac. Having frequently called at his house, without being able to speak with him, I grew weary, and supposing he had either forgot me, or retained some unfavorable impression of me, returned no more. But I was mistaken in both these conjectures. He had more than once witnessed the pleasure I took in fulfilling my duty to his aunt. He had even mentioned it to her, and afterwards spoke of it, when I no longer thought of it myself. He received me graciously, saying that instead of amusing me with useless promises, he had sought to place me to advantage. That he had succeeded, and would put me in a way to better my situation. But the rest must depend on myself. That the family into which he should introduce me, being both powerful and esteemed, I should need no other patrons. And though at first on the footing of a servant, I might be assured that if my conduct and sentiments were found above that station, I should not long remain in it. The end of this discourse cruelly disappointed the brilliant hopes the beginning had inspired. What, forever a footman, said I to myself, with a bitterness which confidence presently effaced. For I felt myself too superior to that situation, to fear long remaining there. He took me to the Cont de Gouvon, master of horse to the queen, and chief of the illustrious house of Solan. The air of dignity conspicuous in this respectable old man rendered the affability with which he received me yet more interesting. He questioned me with evident interest, and I replied with sincerity. He then told the Cont de la Hague that my features were agreeable and promised intellect, which he believed I was not deficient in. But that was not enough, and time must show the rest. After which, turning to me, he said, Child, almost all situations are attended with difficulties in the beginning. Yours, however, shall not have too great a portion of them. Be prudent, and endeavour to please everyone. That will be almost your only employment. For the rest there nothing you shall be taken care of. Immediately after, he went to the Marquis de Bray, his daughter-in-law, to whom he presented me, and then to the Abbey de Gouvon, his son. I was elated with this beginning, as I knew enough of the world already to conclude that so much ceremony is not generally used at the reception of a footman. In fact, I was not treated like one. I dined at the steward's table, did not wear a livery, and the Court de Vavria, a giddy youth, having commanded me to get behind his coach. His grandfather ordered that I should get behind no coach, nor follow anyone out of the house. Meantime I waited at table, and did within doors the business of a footman. But I did it, as it were, of my own free will, without being appointed to any particular service, and except writing some letters which were dictated to me, and cutting out some ornaments for the Court de Vavria, I was almost the absolute master of my time. This trial of my discretion, which I did not then perceive, was certainly very dangerous and not very humane, for in this state of idleness I might have contracted vices which I should not otherwise have given into. Fortunately it did not produce that effect. My memory retained the lessons of Mr. Gem. They had made an impression on my heart, and I sometimes escaped from the house of my patron to obtain a repetition of them. I believe those who saw me going out, apparently by stealth, had no conception of my business. Nothing could be more prudent than the advice he gave me, respecting my conduct. My beginning was admirable. So much attention, acidity, and zeal had charmed everyone. The Abbey Gem advised me to moderate this first ardour, lest I should relax, and that relaxation should be considered as neglect. Your setting out, said he, is the rule of what will be expected of you. Endeavour gradually to increase your attentions, but be cautious how you diminish them. As they paid but little attention to my trifling talents, and supposed I possessed no more than nature had given me, there was no appearance, notwithstanding the promises of Côte de Gauvant, of my meeting with any particular consideration. Some objects of more consequence had intervened. The Marquis de Bray, son of the Côte de Gauvant, was then ambassador at Vienna. Some circumstances had occurred at that court, which for some weeks kept the family in continual agitation, and left them no time to think of me. Meantime I had relaxed but little in my attentions, though one object in the family did me both good and harm, making me more secure from exterior dissipation, but less attentive to my duty. End of section 1 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey Section 2 of Confessions Vol. 3 and 4 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen Confessions Vol. 3 and 4 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau Anonymously translated. Section 2 Mademoiselle de Bray was about my own age, tolerably handsome and very fair complexioned with black hair, which, notwithstanding, gave her features that air of softness so natural to the flaxen, and which my heart could never resist. The court dress so favourable to youth showed her fine neck and shape to advantage, and the mourning which was then worn seemed to add to her beauty. It will be said a domestic should not take notice of these things. I was certainly to blame, yet I perceived all this, nor was I the only one. The maître d'hôtel and Vallée de Chambre spoke of her sometimes at table with a vulgarity that pained me extremely. My head, however, was not sufficiently turned to allow of my being entirely in love. I did not forget myself or my situation. I loved to see Mademoiselle de Bray, to hear her utter anything that marked wit, sense or good humour. My ambition, confined to a desire of waiting on her, never exceeded its just rights. At table I was ever attentive to make the most of them. If her footman quitted her chair, I instantly supplied his place. In default of this I stood facing her, seeking in her eyes what she was about to ask for, and watching the moment to change her plate. What would I not have given to hear her command, to have her look at or speak the smallest word to me? But no, I had the mortification to be beneath her regard. She did not even perceive I was there. Her brother, who frequently spoke to me while at table, having one day said something which I did not consider obliging, I made him so arch and well turned an answer that it drew her attention. She cast her eyes upon me, and this glance was sufficient to fill me with transport. The next day a second occasion presented itself which I fortunately made use of. A great dinner was given, and I saw with astonishment for the first time the metre d'hôtel waiting at table, with a sword by his side and hat on his head. By chance the discourse turned on the motto of the House of Solaire, which was, with the arms, worked in the tapestry, tell fier qu'il ne tue pas. As the pieds montiers are not, in general, very perfect in the French language, they found fault with the orthography, saying that in the word fier, there should be no tea. The old conthe de Gauvant was going to reply. When happening to cast his eyes on me, he perceived I smiled without daring to say anything. He immediately ordered me to speak my opinion. I then said I did not think the tea superfluous. Fier, being an old French word, not derived from ferrus, proud, threatening, but from the verb ferrit, he strikes, he wounds. The motto, therefore, did not appear to mean some threat, but some strike who do not kill. The whole company fixed their eyes on me, then on each other without speaking a word. Never was a greater degree of astonishment, but what most flattered me was an air of satisfaction which I perceived on the countenance of Mademoiselle de Bray. This scornful lady, deigned to cast on me a second look, at least as valuable as the former, and turning to her grandfather, appeared to wait with impatience for the praise that was due to me, and which he fully bestowed, with such apparent satisfaction that it was eagerly chorused by the whole table. This interval was short but delightful in many respects. It was one of those moments so rarely met with which place things in their natural order, and revenge depressed merit for the injuries of fortune. Some minutes after, Mademoiselle de Bray again raised her eyes, desiring me with a voice of timid affability to give her some drink. It will easily be supposed I did not let her wait, but advancing towards her, I was seized with such a trembling, that having filled the glass too full, I spilled some of the water on her plate, and even on herself. Her brother asked me giddily why I trembled thus. This question increased my confusion, while the face of Mademoiselle de Bray was suffused with a crimson blush. Here ended the romance, where it may be remarked, as with Mademoiselle and others in the continuation of my life, that I was not fortunate in the conclusion of my amours. In vain I placed myself in the anti-chamber of Madame de Bray. I could not obtain one mark of attention from her daughter. She went in and out without looking at me, nor had I the confidence to raise my eyes to her. I was even so foolishly stupid that one day, on dropping her glove as she passed, instead of seizing and covering it with kisses, as I would gladly have done, I did not dare to quit my place, but suffered it to be taken up by a great booby of a footman, whom I could willingly have knocked down for his officiousness. To complete my timidity, I perceived I had not the good fortune to please Madame de Bray. She not only never ordered, but even rejected my services, and having twice found me in her anti-chamber, asked me dryly if I had nothing to do. I was obliged therefore to renounce this dear anti-chamber. At first it caused me some uneasiness, but other things intervening I presently thought no more of it. The disdain of Madame de Bray was fully compensated by the kindness of her father-in-law, who at length began to think of me. The evening after the entertainment I have already mentioned, he had a conversation with me that lasted half an hour, which appeared to satisfy him and absolutely enchanted me. This good man had less sense than Madame de Vercellis, but possessed more feeling. I therefore succeeded much better with him. He bade me attach myself to his son, the Abbey-Gouvern, who had an esteem for me, which, if I took care to cultivate, might be serviceable in furnishing me with what was necessary to complete their views for my future establishment. The next morning I flew to Monsieur the Abbey, who did not receive me as a servant, but made me sit by his fireside and questioned me with great affability. He soon found that my education, which had attempted many things, had completed none, but observing that I understood something of Latin, he undertook to teach me more and appointed me to attend him every morning. Thus, by one of the whimsicalities which have marked the whole course of my life at once above and below my natural situation, I was pupil and footman in the same house. And though in servitude had a preceptor whose birth entitled him to supply that place only to the children of kings, the Abbey de Gouvern was a younger son and designed by his family for a bishopric, for which reason his studies had been pursued further than his usual with people of quality. He had been sent to the University of Siena, where he had resided some years, and from whence he had brought a good portion of Croscantism, designing to be that at Turin which the Abbey de Dongeau was formerly at Paris. Being disgusted with theology, he gave in to the Bellet, which is very frequent in Italy with those who have entered the career of prelacy. He had studied the poets and wrote tolerable Latin and Italian verses. In a word, his taste was calculated to form mine, and give some order to that chaos of insignificant trash with which my brain was encumbered. But whether my preting had misled him, or that he could not support the trouble of teaching the elementary parts of Latin, he put me at first too high, and I had scarcely translated a few fables of Fidrus before he put me into Virgil, where I could hardly understand anything. It will be seen hereafter that I was destined frequently to learn Latin, but never to attain it. I laboured with aciduity, and the Abbey bestowed his attention with a degree of kindness, the remembrance of which, even at this time, both interests and softens me. I passed the greater part of the morning with him, as much for my own instruction as his service. Not that he ever permitted me to perform any menial office, but to copy or write from his dictating. And my employment of secretary was more useful than that of scholar, and by this means I not only learned the Italian in its utmost purity, but also acquired a taste for literature, and some discernment of composition, which could not have been at La Tribuse, and which was useful to me when I afterwards wrote alone. At this period of my life, without being romantic, I might reasonably have indulged the hope of preferment. The Abbey, thoroughly pleased with me, expressed his satisfaction to everyone, while his father had such a singular affection for me that I was assured by the court de Fabrià that he had spoken of me to the king. Even Madame de Bray had laid aside her disdainful looks. In short, I was a general favourite, which gave great jealousy to the other servants, who seeing me honoured by the instructions of their master's son, where persuaded I should not remain their equal. As far as I could judge by some words dropped at random, and which I reflected on afterwards, it appeared to me that the house of Solard, wishing to run the career of embassies, and hoping perhaps in time to arrive at the ministry, wished to provide themselves with a person of merit and talents, who, depending entirely on them, might obtain their confidence and be of essential service. This project of the court de Gauvon was judicious, magnanimous, and truly worthy of a powerful nobleman, equally provident and generous. But besides my not seeing at that time its full extent, it was far too rational for my brain, and required too much confinement. My ridiculous ambition sought for fortune in the midst of brilliant adventures, and not finding one woman in all this scheme, it appeared tedious, painful and melancholy. Though I should rather have thought it more honourable on this account, as the species of merit generally patronised by women is certainly less worthy than I was supposed to possess. Everything succeeded to my wish. I had obtained almost forced the esteem of all. The trial was over, and I was universally considered as a young man with flattering prospects, who was not at present in his proper sphere, but was expected soon to reach it. But my place was not assigned to me by man, and I was to reach it by very difficult paths. I now come to one of those characteristic trays which are so natural to me, and which indeed the reader might have observed without this reflection. End of Section 2 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey Section 3 of Confessions Vol. 3 & 4 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen Confessions Vol. 3 & 4 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau Anonymously translated Section 3 There were at Turin several new converts of my own stamp, whom I neither liked nor wished to see. But I had met with some Genevies who were not of this description, and among others, Monsieur Musard, nicknamed Rhinec, a miniature painter, and a distant relation. This Monsieur Musard, having learned my situation at the Côte de Gauvons, came to see me with another Genevies named Bacle, who had been my comrade during my apprenticeship. This Bacle was a very sprightly, amusing young fellow, full of lively sallies, which at his time of life appeared extremely agreeable. At once, then, behold me delighted with Monsieur Bacle, charmed to such a degree that I found it impossible to quit him. He was shortly to depart for Geneva. What a loss had I to sustain! I felt the whole force of it, and resolving to make the best use of this precious interval, I determined not to leave him, or rather he never quitted me, for my head was not yet sufficiently turned to think of quitting the house without leave. But it was soon perceived that he engrossed my whole time, and he was accordingly forbid the house. This so incensed me that forgetting everything but my friend Bacle, I went neither to the abbey nor the count, and was no longer to be found at home. I paid no attention to repeated reprimands, and at length was threatened with dismissal. This threat was my ruin, as it suggested the idea that it was not absolutely necessary that Bacle should depart alone. From that moment I could think of no other pleasure, no other situation or happiness than taking this journey. To render the felicity still more complete, at the end of it, though at an immense distance, I pictured to myself Madame de Varence. For as to returning to Geneva, it never entered into my imagination. The hills, fields, brooks and villages incessantly succeeded each other with new charms, and this delightful jaunt seemed worthy to absorb my whole existence. Memory recalled with inexpressible pleasure how charming the country had appeared in coming to Turin. What then must it be when to the pleasure of independence should be added the company of a good-humoured comrade of my own age and disposition, without any constraint or obligation, but free to go or stay as we pleased? Would it not be madness to sacrifice the prospect of so much felicity to projects of ambition, slow and difficult in their execution, and uncertain in their event? But even supposing them realised, and in their utmost splendour, they were not worth one quarter of an hour of the sweet pleasure and liberty of youth. Full of these wise conclusions I conducted myself so improperly that not indeed without some trouble I got myself dismissed. For on my return one night the Metre d'Hotel gave me warning on the part of the Count. This was exactly what I wanted. For feeling, spite of myself, the extravagance of my conduct, I wished to excuse it by the addition of injustice and ingratitude, by throwing the blame on others, and sheltering myself under the idea of necessity. I was told the Court de Favria wished to speak with me the next morning before my departure. But being sensible that my head was so far turned as to render it possible for me to disobey the injunction, the Metre d'Hotel declined paying the money designed me, and which certainly I had very ill earned till after this visit. For my kind patrons being unwilling to place me in the situation of a footman, I had not any fixed wages. The Court de Favria, though young and giddy, talked to me on this occasion in the most sensible and serious manner. I might add, if it would not be thought vain, with the utmost tenderness. He reminded me in the most flattering terms of the cares of his uncle, and intentions of his grandfather. After having drawn in lively colours what I was sacrificing to ruin, he offered to make my peace, without stipulating any conditions, but that I should no more see the worthless fellow who had seduced me. It was so apparent that he did not say all this of himself, but not withstanding my blind stupidity, I powerfully felt the kindness of my good old master. But the dear journey was too firmly printed on my imagination for any consideration to balance the charm. Bereft of understanding, firm to my purpose, I hardened myself against conviction, and arrogantly answered that as they had thought fit to give me warning, I had resolved to take it, and conceived it was now too late to retract. Since whatever might happen to me, I was fully resolved not to be driven a second time from the same house. The count, justly irritated, bestowed on me some names which I deserved, and putting me out of his apartment by the shoulders, shut the door on me. I departed triumphant, as if I had gained the greatest victory, and fearful of sustaining a second combat, even had the ingratitude to leave the house without thanking the abbey for his kindness. To form a just conception of my delirium at that moment, the excess to which my heart is subject to be heated by the most trifling incidents, and the ardour with which my imagination seizes on the most attractive objects should be conceived. At these times, plans, the most ridiculous, childish and void of sense, flatter my favourite idea, and persuade me that it is reasonable to sacrifice everything to the possession of it. Would it be believed that when near nineteen anyone could be so stupid as to build his hopes of future subsistence on an empty file? For example, the Abbey de Gauvent had made me a present some weeks before of a very pretty heron fountain, with which I was highly delighted. Playing with this toy, and speaking of our departure, the sage Bach and myself thought it might be of infinite advantage and enable us to lengthen our journey. What in the world was so curious as a heron fountain? This idea was the foundation on which we built our future fortune. We were to assemble the country-people in every village we might pass through and delight them with the sight of it, when feasting and good cheer would be sure to pour on us abundantly. For we were both firmly persuaded that provisions could cost nothing to those who grew and gathered them, and if they did not stuff travellers, it was downright ill-nature. We pictured in all parts entertainment and weddings, reckoning that without any expense but wind from our lungs and the water of our fountain we should be maintained through Piedmont, Savoy, France, and indeed all the world over. There was no end to our projected travels, and we immediately directed our course northward, rather for the pleasure of crossing the Alps than from a supposed necessity of being obliged to stop at any place. Such was the plan on which I set out, abandoning without regret my preceptor's studies and hopes with the almost certain attainment of a fortune to lead the life of a real vagabond. Farewell to the capital, adieu to the court, ambition, love, the fair, and all the great adventures into which hope had led me during the preceding year. I departed with my fountain and my friend Buck, a purse lightly furnished, but a heart overflowing with pleasure, and only thinking how to enjoy the extensive felicity which I supposed my project encircled. This extravagant journey was performed almost as agreeably as I had expected, though not exactly on the same plan. Not but our fountain highly amused the hostess and servants for some minutes at all the ale houses where we halted, yet we found it equally necessary to pay on our departure. But that gave us no concern, as we never thought of depending on it entirely until our money should be expended. An accident spared us that trouble. Our fountain was broken near Paramon, and in good time, for we both felt without daring to own it to each other, but we began to be weary of it. This misfortune rendered us gayer than ever. We laughed heartily at our giddiness in having forgotten that our clothes and shoes would wear out, or trusting to renew them by the play of our fountain. We continued our journey as merrily as we had begun it, only drawing faster towards that termination where our drained purses made it necessary for us to arrive. At Chambéry I became pensive, not for the folly I had committed, for never did anyone think less of the past, but on account of the reception I should meet with from Madame de Véranse. For I looked on her house as my paternal home. I had written her an account of my reception at the Côte de Gouvons. She knew my expectances, and in congratulating me on my good fortune, had added some wise lessons on the return I ought to make for the kindness with which they treated me. She looked on my fortune as already made, if not destroyed by my own negligence. What then would she say on my arrival? For it never entered my mind that she might shut the door against me. But I dreaded the uneasiness I might give her. I dreaded her reproaches to me more wounding than want. I resolved to bear all in silence, and if possible to appease her. I now saw nothing but Madame de Véranse in the whole universe, and to live in disgrace with her was impossible. I was most concerned about my companion, whom I did not wish to offend, and feared I should not easily get rid of. I prefaced this separation by an affected coldness during the last day's journey. The drool understood me perfectly. In fact he was rather giddy than deficient in point of sense. I expected he would have been hurt at my inconstancy, but I was quite mistaken. Nothing affected my friend Buckle, for hardly had we set foot in town on our arrival. Before he said, You are now at home. Embraced, beat me adieu, turned on his heel and disappeared. Nor have I ever heard of him since. End of section three Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey. Section four of Confessions volumes three and four. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. Confessions volumes three and four by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Anonymously translated. Section four How did my heart beat as I approached the habitation of Madame de Vérance? My legs trembled under me. My eyes were clouded with a mist. I neither saw, heard nor recollected anyone and was obliged frequently to stop that I might draw breath and recall my bewildered senses. Was it fear of not obtaining that sucker I stood in need of which agitated me to this degree? At the age I then was, does the fear of perishing with hunger give such alarms? No. I declare with as much truth as pride that it was not in the power of interest or indigence at any period of my life to expand or contract my heart. In the course of a painful life, memorable for its vicissitudes, frequently destitute of an asylum and without bread, I have contemplated with equal indifference both opulence and misery. In want I might have begged or stolen as others have done, but never could feel distress at being reduced to such necessities. Few men have grieved more than myself. Few have shed so many tears. Yet never did poverty or the fear of falling into it make me heave a sigh or moisten my eyelids. My soul, in despite of fortune, has only been sensible of real good and evil which did not depend on her. And frequently, when in possession of everything that could make life pleasing, I have been the most miserable of mortals. The first glance of Madame de Varence banished all my fears. My heart leapt at the sound of her voice. I threw myself at her feet and in transports of the most lively joy my lips upon her hand. I am ignorant whether she had received any recent information of me. I discovered but little surprise on her countenance and no sorrow. Poor child, said she, in an affectionate tone, art thou here again. I knew you were too young for this journey. I am very glad, however, that it did not turn out so bad as I apprehended. She then made me recount my history. It was not long, and I did it faithfully, suppressing only some trifling circumstances, but on the whole neither sparing nor excusing myself. The question was where I could lodge. She consulted her maid on this point. I hardly dared to breathe during the deliberation. But when I heard I was to sleep in the house, I could scarce contain my joy and saw the little bundle I brought with me carried into my desk in department with much the same sensations as Saint-Pierre saw his shares put up at Madame de Volmar's. To complete all, I had the satisfaction to find that this favour was not to be transitory. For at a moment when they thought me attentive to something else, I heard Madame de Varence say, they may talk as they please, but since Providence has sent him back, I am determined not to abandon him. Behold me, then, established at her house. Not, however, that I date the happiest days of my life from this period, but this served to prepare me for them. Though that sensibility of heart which enables us truly to enjoy our being is the work of nature and perhaps a mere effect of organisation, yet it requires situations to unfold itself and without a certain concurrence of favourable circumstances, a man born with the most acute sensibility may go out of the world without ever having been acquainted with his own temperament. This was my case till that time and such perhaps it might have remained had I never known Madame de Varence or even having known her, had I not remained with her long enough to contract that pleasing habit of affectionate sentiments with which she inspired me. I dare affirm that those who only love do not feel the most charming sensations we are capable of. I am acquainted with another sentiment less impetuous but a thousand times more delightful, sometimes joined with love, but frequently separated from it. This feeling is not simply friendship. It is more enchanting, more tender. Nor do I imagine it can exist between persons of the same sex. At least I have been truly a friend if ever a man was and yet never experienced it in that kind. This distinction is not sufficiently clear but will become so hereafter. Sentiments are only distinguishable by their effects. Madame de Varence inhabited an old house but large enough to have a handsome spare apartment which she made her drawing-room. I now occupied this chamber which was in the passage I have before mentioned as the place of our first meeting. Beyond the brook and gardens was a prospect of the country which was by no means uninteresting to the young inhabitant, being the first time since my residence at Bosse that I had seen anything before my windows but walls, roofs or the dirty street. How pleasing then was this novelty! It helped to increase the tenderness of my disposition for I looked on this charming landscape as the gift of my dear patroness who I could almost fancy had placed it there on purpose for me. Peaceably seated my eyes pursued her amidst the flowers and the verdure. Her charms seemed to me confounded with those of the spring. My heart till now contracted here found means to expand itself and my size exhaled freely in this charming retreat. The magnificence I had been accustomed to at Turin was not to be found at Madame de Varence but in lieu of it there was neatness, regularity and a patriarchal abundance which is seldom attached to pompous ostentation. She had very little plate, no china, no game in her kitchen or foreign wines in her cellar but both were well furnished and at every one's service and her coffee, though served in earthenware cups was excellent. Whoever came to her house was invited to dine there and never did labourer, messenger or traveller depart without refreshment. Her family consisted of a pretty chambermaid from Fribourg named Merceré a valet from her own country called Claude Anne of whom I shall speak hereafter a cook and two hired chairmen when she visited which seldom happened. This was a great deal to be done out of two thousand leave as a year yet with good management it might have been sufficient in a country where land is extremely good and money very scarce. Unfortunately economy was never her favourite virtue she contracted debts, paid them thus her money passed from hand to hand like a weaver's shuttle and quickly disappeared. The arrangement of her housekeeping was exactly what I should have chosen and I shared it with satisfaction. I was least pleased with the necessity of remaining too long at table. Madame de Varence was so much incommodated with the first smell of soup or meat as almost to occasion fainting. From this she slowly recovered talking meantime and never attempting to eat for the first half hour. I could have dined thrice in the time and had ever finished my meal long before she began. I then ate again for company and though by this means I usually dined twice felt no inconvenience from it. In short I was perfectly at my ease and the happier as my situation required no care. Not being at this time instructed in the state of her finances I supposed her means were adequate to her expense and though I afterwards found the same abundance yet when instructed in her real situation finding her pension ever anticipated prevented me from enjoying the same tranquility. Foresight with me has always embittered enjoyment. In vain I saw the approach of misfortunes I was never the more likely to avoid them. From the first moment of our meeting the softest familiarity was established between us and in the same degree it continued during the rest of her life. Child was my name, mama was hers and child and mama we have ever continued even after a number of years had almost effaced the apparent difference of age between us. I think those names convey an exact idea of our behaviour, the simplicity of our manners and above all the similarity of our dispositions. To me she was the tenderest of mothers ever preferring my welfare to her own pleasure and if my own satisfaction found some interest in my attachment to her it was not to change its nature but only to render it more exquisite and infatuate me with the charm of having a mother young and handsome whom I was delighted to caress. I say literally to caress for never did it enter into her imagination to deny me the tenderest maternal kisses and endearments or into my heart to abuse them. It will be said at length our connection was of a different kind. I confess it but have patience that will come in its turn. The sudden sight of her on our first interview was the only truly passionate moment she ever inspired me with and even that was principally the work of surprise. With her I had neither transports nor desires but remained in a ravishing calm sensible of a happiness I could not define and thus could I have passed my whole life or even eternity without feeling an instant of uneasiness. She was the only person with whom I never experienced that want of conversation which to me is so painful to endure our tetatet were rather an inexhaustible chat than conversation which could only conclude from interruption. So far from finding discourse difficult I rather thought it a hardship to be silent unless when contemplating her projects she sunk into a reverie when I silently let her meditate and gazing on her was the happiest of men. I had another singular fancy which was that without pretending to the favour of a tetatet I was perpetually seeking occasion to form them enjoying such opportunities with rapture and when importunate visitors broke in upon us no matter whether it was man or woman I went out murmuring not being able to remain a secondary object in her company then counting the minutes in her anti-chamber I used to curse these eternal visitors thinking it inconceivable how they could find so much to say because I had still more. If ever I felt the full force of my attachment it was when I did not see her when in her presence I was only content when absent my uneasiness reached almost to melancholy and a wish to live with her gave me emotions of tenderness even to tears never shall I forget one great holiday while she was at Vespers when I took a walk out of the city my heart full of her image and the ardent wish to pass my life with her I could easily enough see that at present this was impossible that the happiness I enjoyed would be of short duration and this idea gave to my contemplations a tincture of melancholy which however was not gloomy but tempered with a flattering hope the ringing of bells which ever particularly affects me the singing of birds the fineness of the day the beauty of the landscape the scattered country houses among which in idea I placed our future dwelling altogether struck me with an impression so lively tender, melancholy and powerful I saw myself in ecstasy transported into that happy time and abode where my heart possessing all the felicity it could desire might taste it with raptures inexpressible End of Section 4 Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey Section 5 of Confessions Volumes 3 & 4 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Martin Geeson Confessions Volumes 3 & 4 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau Anonymously translated Section 5 I never recollect to have enjoyed the future with such force of illusion as at that time and what has particularly struck me in the recollection of this reverie is that when realised I found my situation exactly as I had imagined it if ever waking dream had an appearance of a prophetic vision it was assuredly this I was only deceived in its imaginary duration for days, years and life itself passed ideally in perfect tranquility while the reality lasted but a moment alas! my most durable happiness was but as a dream which I had no sooner had a glimpse of than I instantly awoke I know not when I should have done if I was to enter into a detail of all the follies that affection for my dear Madame de Varence made me commit when absent from her how often have I kissed the bed on a supposition that she had slept there the curtains and all the furniture of my chamber on recollecting they were hers and that her charming hands had touched them nay, the floor itself when I considered she had walked there sometimes even in her presence extravagances escaped me which only the most violent passion seemed capable of inspiring in a word there was but one essential difference to distinguish me from an absolute lover and that particular renders my situation almost inconceivable I had returned from Italy not absolutely as I went there but as no one of my age perhaps ever did before being equally unacquainted with women my ardent constitution had found resources in those means by which youth of my disposition sometimes preserved their purity at the expense of health, vigor and frequently of life itself my local situation should likewise be considered living with a pretty woman cherishing her image in the bottom of my heart seeing her during the whole day at night surrounded with objects that recalled her incessantly to my remembrance and sleeping in the bed where I knew she had slept what a situation who can read this without supposing me on the brink of the grave but quite the contrary that which might have ruined me acted as a preservative at least for a time intoxicated with the charm of living with her with the ardent desire of passing my life there absent or present I saw in her a tender mother an amiable sister a respected friend but nothing more meantime her image filled my heart and left room for no other object the extreme tenderness with which she inspired me excluded every other woman from my consideration and preserved me from the whole sex in a word I was virtuous because I loved her let these particulars which I recount but indifferently be considered and then let anyone judge what kind of attachment I had for her for my part all I can say is that if it hitherto appears extraordinary it will appear much more so in the sequel my time passed in the most agreeable manner though occupied in a way which was by no means calculated to please me such as having projects to digest bills to write fare receipts to transcribe herbs to pick drugs to pound or distillations to attend and in the midst of all this came crowds of travellers beggars and visitors of all denominations sometimes it was necessary to converse at the same time with a soldier an apothecary a prebandery a fine lady and a lay brother I grumbled swore and wished all this troublesome medley at the devil while she seemed to enjoy it laughing at my chagrin till the tears ran down her cheeks what excited her mirth still more was to see that my anger was increased by not being able myself to refrain from laughter these little intervals in which I enjoyed the pleasure of grumbling with charming and if during the dispute another important visitor arrived she would add to her amusement by maliciously prolonging the visit meantime casting glances at me for which I could almost have beat her nor could she without difficulty refrain from laughter on seeing my constrained politeness though every moment glancing at her the look of a fury while even in spite of myself I thought the scene truly diverting all this without being pleasing in itself contributed to amuse because it made up a part of the life which I thought delightful nothing that was performed around me nothing that I was obliged to do suited my taste but everything suited my heart and I believe at length I should have liked the study of medicine had not my natural distaste to it perpetually engaged us in whimsical scenes that prevented my thinking of it in a serious light it was perhaps the first time that this art produced mirth I pretended to distinguish a physical book by its smell and what was more diverting was seldom mistaken Madame de Varence made me taste the most nauseous drugs in vain I ran or endeavored to defend myself spite of resistance or rye faces spite of my struggles or even of my teeth when I saw her charming fingers approach my lips I was obliged to give up the contest when shut up in an apartment with all her medical apparatus anyone who heard us running and shouting amidst peels of laughter would rather have imagined we had been acting a farce than preparing opiates or elixirs my time however was not entirely passed in these fooleries in the apartment which I occupied I found a few books there was The Spectator, Puffendorf, Saint-Evremont and the Henriade though I had not my old passion for books yet I amused myself with reading a part of them The Spectator was particularly pleasing and serviceable to me The Abbey de Gouvern had taught me to read less eagerly and with a greater degree of attention which rendered my studies more serviceable I accustomed myself to reflect on elocution and the elegance of composition exercising myself in discerning pure French from my provincial idiom for example I corrected an orthographical fault which I had in common with all Genevies by these two lines of the Henriade Sois-qu'un ancien respect pour le sang de leur maître par là tant corps pour lui dans le cœur de ses traîtres I was struck with the word par là and found a T was necessary to form the third person of the subjunctive whereas I had always written and pronounced it par là as in the present of the indicative Sometimes my studies were the subject of conversation with Madame du Véran Sometimes I read to her in which I found great satisfaction and as I endeavoured to read well it was extremely serviceable to me I have already observed that her mind was cultivated her understanding was at this time in its meridian several people of learning having been assiduous to ingratiate themselves had taught her to distinguish works of merit but her taste, if I may so express myself, was rather Protestant ever speaking warmly of belle and highly esteeming Saint-Evremont though long since almost forgotten in France but this did not prevent her from having a taste for literature or expressing her thoughts with elegance she had been brought up with polite company and coming young to Savoy by associating with people of the best fashion had lost the affected manners of her own country where the ladies mistake wit for sense and only speak in epigram though she had seen the court but superficially that glance was sufficient to give her a competent idea of it and not withstanding secret jealousies and the murmurs excited by her conduct and running in debt she ever preserved friends there and never lost her pension she knew the world and was useful this was her favourite theme in our conversations and was directly opposite to my chimerical ideas though the kind of instruction I particularly had occasion for we read La Bruyère together he pleased her more than La Rochefoucault who is a dull, melancholy author particularly to youth who are not fond of contemplating man as he really is in moralising she sometimes bewildered herself by the lengths of her discourses but by kissing her lips or hand from time to time I was easily consoled and never found them wearisome End of Section 5 Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey Section 6 of Confessions Vol. 3 & 4 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Recording by Martin Geeson Confessions Vol. 3 & 4 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau Section 6 This life was too delightful to be lasting I felt this and the uneasiness that thought gave me was the only thing that disturbed my enjoyment even in playfulness she studied my disposition observed and interrogated me forming projects for my future fortune which I could readily have dispensed with happily it was not sufficient to know my disposition, inclinations and talents it was likewise necessary to find a situation in which they would be useful and this was not the work of a day even the prejudices this good woman had conceived in favour of my merit put off the time of calling it into action by rendering her more difficult in the choice of means thus thanks to the good opinion she entertained of me everything answered to my wish but a change soon happened which put a period to my tranquillity a relation of Madame de Varens named Monsieur de Bonne came to see her a man of great understanding and intrigue being like her fond of projects though careful not to ruin himself by them he had offered Cardinal Fleury a very compact plan for a lottery which however had not been approved of and he was now going to propose it to the court of Turin where it was accepted and put into execution he remained some time at Annecy where he fell in love with the intendant's lady who was very amiable much to my taste and the only person I saw with pleasure at the house of Madame de Varens Monsieur de Bonne saw me I was strongly recommended by his relation he promised therefore to question and see what I was fit for and if he found me capable to seek me a situation Madame de Varens sent me to him two or three mornings under pretense of messages without acquainting me with her real intention he spoke to me gaily on various subjects without any appearance of observation his familiarity presently set me talking which by his cheerful and jesting manner he encouraged without restraint I was absolutely charmed with him the result of his observations was that notwithstanding the animation of my countenance and promising exterior if not absolutely silly I was a lad of very little sense and without ideas of learning in fine very ignorant in all respects and if I could arrive at being curate of some village it was the utmost honour I ought ever to aspire to such was the account he gave of me to Madame de Varens this was not the first time such an opinion had been formed of me neither was it the last the judgment of Monsieur Masseron having been repeatedly confirmed the cause of these opinions is too much connected with my character not to need a particular explanation for it will not be supposed that I can in conscience subscribe to them and with all possible impartiality whatever Monsieur Masseron, Monsieur de Bonne and many others may have said I cannot help thinking the mistaken two things very opposite unite in me and in a manner which I cannot myself conceive my disposition is extremely ardent my passions lively and impetuous yet my ideas are produced slowly with great embarrassment and after much afterthought it might be said my heart and understanding do not belong to the same individual a sentiment takes possession of my soul with the rapidity of lightning but instead of illuminating it dazzles and confounds me I feel all but see nothing I am warm but stupid to think I must be cool what is astonishing my conception is clear and penetrating if not hurried I can make excellent impromptus at leisure but on the instant could never say or do anything worth notice I could hold a tolerable conversation by the post as they say the Spaniards play at chess and when I read that anecdote of a Duke of Savoy who turned himself round while on a journey to cry out a votre gorge marchant de Paris I said here is a tray of my character this slowness of thought joined to vivacity of feeling I am not only sensible of in conversation but even alone when I write my ideas are arranged with the utmost difficulty they glance on my imagination and ferment till they discompose heat and bring on a palpitation during this state of agitation I see nothing properly cannot write a single word and must wait till it is over insensibly the agitation subsides the chaos acquires form and each circumstance takes its proper place have you never seen an opera in Italy where during the change of scene everything is in confusion the decorations are intermingled and anyone would suppose that all would be overthrown yet by little and little everything is arranged nothing appears wanting and we feel surprised to see the tumult succeeded by the most delightful spectacle this is a resemblance of what passes in my brain when I attempt to write had I always waited till that confusion was passed and then painted in their natural beauties the objects that had presented themselves few authors would have surpassed me then surrises the extreme difficulty I find in writing my manuscripts blotted, scratched and scarcely legible attest the trouble they cost me nor is there one of them but I have been obliged to transcribe four or five times before it went to press never could I do anything when placed at a table then in hand it must be walking among the rocks or in the woods it is at night in my bed during my wakeful hours that I compose it may be judged how slowly particularly for a man who has not the advantage of verbal memory and never in his life could retain by heart six verses some of my periods I have turned and returned in my head five or six nights before they were fit to be put to paper thus it is that I succeed better in works that require laborious attention than those that appear more trivial such as letters in which I could never succeed and being obliged to write one is to me a serious punishment nor can I express my thoughts on the most trivial subject without it costing me hours of fatigue if I write immediately what strikes me my letter is a long confused unconnected string of expressions which when read can hardly be understood it is not only painful to me to give language to my ideas but even to receive them I have studied mankind and think myself a tolerable observer yet I know nothing from what I see but all from what I remember nor have I understanding except in my recollections from all that is said from all that passes in my presence I feel nothing conceive nothing the exterior sign being all that strikes me afterwards it returns to my remembrance I recollect the place the time the manner the look gesture not a circumstance escapes me it is then from what has been done or said that I imagine what has been thought and I have rarely found myself mistaken so little master of my understanding when alone let anyone judge what I must be in conversation where to speak with any degree of ease think of a thousand things at the same time the bare idea that I should forget something material would be sufficient to intimidate me nor can I comprehend how people can have the confidence to converse in large companies where each word must pass in review before so many and where it would be requisite to know their several characters and histories to avoid saying what might give offence in this particular those who frequent the world would have a great advantage as they know better where to be silent and can speak with greater confidence yet even they sometimes let fall absurdities in what predicament then must he be who drops as it were from the clouds it is almost impossible he should speak ten minutes with impunity in a tet-a-tet there is a still worse inconvenience that is the necessity of talking perpetually at least the necessity of answering when spoken to and keeping up the conversation when the other is silent this insupportable constraint is alone sufficient to disgust me with variety for I cannot form an idea of a greater torment than being obliged to speak continually without time for recollection I know not whether it proceeds from my mortal hatred of all constraint but if I am obliged to speak I infallibly talk nonsense what is still worse instead of learning how to be silent when I have absolutely nothing to say it is generally at such times that I have a violent inclination and endeavouring to pay my debt of conversation as speedily as possible I hastily gavel a number of words without ideas happy when they only chance to mean nothing thus endeavouring to conquer or hide my incapacity I rarely fail to show it I think I have said enough to show that though not a fool I have frequently passed for one even among people capable of judging this was the more vexatious as my physiognomy and eyes promised otherwise and expectation being frustrated my stupidity appeared the more shocking this detail which a particular occasion gave birth to will not be useless in the sequel being a key to many of my actions which might otherwise appear unaccountable and have been attributed to a savage humour I do not possess I love society as much as any man was I not certain to exhibit myself in it not only disadvantageously but totally different from what I really am the plan I have adopted of writing and retirement is what exactly suits me had I been present my worth would never have been known no one would even have suspected it as it was with Madame Dubin a woman of sense in whose house I lived for several years indeed she has often since owned it to me though on the whole this rule may be subject to some exceptions I shall now return to my history the estimate of my talents thus fixed the situation I was capable of promised the question only remained how to render her capable of fulfilling my destined vocation the principal difficulty was I did not know Latin enough for a priest Madame de Vareuse determined to have me taught for some time at the seminary and accordingly spoke of it to the superior who was a Lazarist called Monsieur Carr a good-natured little fellow half-blind meager grey-haired insensible and the least pedantic of any Lazarist I ever knew which in fact is saying no great matter he frequently visited Madame de Vareuse during his sometimes lace her stays an office he was willing enough to perform while thus employed she would run about the room this way or that as occasion happened to call her drawn by the lace Monsieur the superior followed grumbling repeating at every moment pray Madame do stand still the whole forming a scene truly diverting Monsieur Gras willingly assented to the project of Madame de Vareuse and for a very moderate pension charged himself with the care of instructing me the consent of the bishop was all that remained necessary who not only granted it but offered to pay the pension permitting me to retain the secular habit till they could judge by a trial what success they might have in my improvement end of section 6 recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey section 7 of confessions volumes 3 and 4 this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Martin Giesen confessions volumes 3 and 4 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau anonymously translated section 7 what a change but I was obliged to submit though I went to the seminary with about the same spirits as if they had been taking me to execution what a melancholy abode especially for one who left the house of a pretty woman I carried one book with me that I had borrowed of Madame de Vareuse and found it a capital resource it will not be easily conjectured what kind of book this was it was a music book among the talents she had cultivated music was not forgotten she had a tolerable good voice sang agreeably and played upon the harpsichord she had taken the pains to give me some lessons in singing though before I was very uninformed in that respect hardly knowing the music of our psalms eight or ten interrupted lessons far from putting me in a condition to improve myself did not teach me half the notes notwithstanding I had such a passion for the art that I determined to exercise myself alone the book I took was not of the most easy kind it was the cantatas of Clérampou it may be conceived with what attention and perseverance I studied when I inform my reader that without knowing anything of transposition or quantity I contrived to sing with tolerable correctness the first recitative and air in the cantata of Alféus and Arithusa it is true this air is so justly set that it is only necessary to recite the verses in their just measure to catch the music there was at the seminary a cursed Lazarist who by undertaking to teach me Latin made me detest it his hair was coarse black and greasy his face like those formed in gingerbread he had the voice of a buffalo the countenance of an owl and the bristles of a boar in lieu of beard his smile was sardonic and his limbs played like those of a puppet moved by wires I have forgotten his odious name but the remembrance of his frightful precise countenance remains with me though hardly can I recollect it without trembling especially when I call to mind our meeting in the gallery when he graciously advanced his filthy square cap as a sign for me to enter his apartment which appeared more dismal in my apprehension than a dungeon let anyone judge the contrast between my present master and the elegant Abbe de Gauvon had I remained two months at the mercy of this monster I am certain my head could not have sustained it but the good Monsieur Gras perceiving that I was melancholy grew thin and did not eat my vitals guessed the cause of my uneasiness which indeed was not very difficult and taking me from the claws of this beast by another yet more striking contrast placed me with the gentlest of men a young Foussignorant Abbe named Monsieur Gatier who studied at the seminary and out of complacence for Monsieur Gras and humanity to myself spared some time from the prosecution of his own studies in order to direct mine never did I see a more pleasing countenance than that of Monsieur Gatier he was fair complexioned his beard rather inclined to red his behaviour like that of the generality of his countrymen who under a coarseness of countenance conceal much understanding marked in him a truly sensible and affectionate soul in his large blue eyes there was a mixture of softness, tenderness and melancholy which made it impossible to see him without feeling oneself interested from the looks and manner of this young Abbe he might have been supposed to have foreseen his destiny and that he was born to be unhappy his disposition did not belie his physiognomy full of patience and complacence he rather appeared to study with than instruct me so much was not necessary to make me love him his predecessor having rendered that very easy yet not withstanding all the time he bestowed on me not withstanding our mutual good inclinations and that his plan of teaching was excellent with much labour I made a little progress it is very singular that with a clear conception I could never learn much from masters except my father and Monsieur L'Ambertier the little I know besides I have learned alone as will be seen hereafter my spirit impatient of every skill and species of constraint cannot submit to the law of the moment even the fear of not learning prevents my being attentive and a dread of wearying those who teach makes me feign to understand them thus they proceed faster than I can comprehend and the conclusion is I learn nothing my understanding must take its own time and cannot submit to that of another the time of ordination being arrived Monsieur Gatier returned to his province as deacon leaving me with gratitude, attachment and sorrow for his loss the vows I made for him were no more answered than those I offered for myself some years after I learned that being vicar of a parish a young girl was with child by him being the only one though he possessed a very tender heart with whom he was ever in love this was a dreadful scandal in a diocese severely governed where the priests being under good regulation ought never to have children except by married women having infringed this politic law he was put in prison, defamed and driven from his benefits I know not whether it was ever after in his power to re-establish his affairs but the remembrance of his misfortunes which were deeply engraven on my heart struck me when I wrote Emile and uniting Monsieur Gatier with Monsieur Gem I formed from these two worthy priests the character of the Savoyard vicar and flatter myself the imitation has not dishonoured the originals while I was at the seminary Monsieur Dubin was obliged to quit Annecy Moutou being displeased that he made love to his wife which was acting like a dog in the manger for though Madame Moutou was extremely amiable he lived very ill with her treating her with such brutality that a separation was talked of Moutou by repeated oppressions at length procured a dismissal from his employment he was a disagreeable man a mole could not be blacker nor an owl more navish it is said the provinciales revenge themselves on their enemies by songs Monsieur Dubin revenge himself on his by a comedy which he sent to Madame de Varence who showed it to me I was pleased with it and immediately conceived the idea of writing one to try whether I was so silly as the author had pronounced me the project was not executed till I went to Chambéry where I wrote the lover of himself thus when I said in the preface to that piece it was written at 18 I cut off a few years nearly about this time an event happened not very important in itself but whose consequence affected me and made a noise in the world when I had forgotten it once a week I was permitted to go out it is not necessary to say what use I made of this liberty being one Sunday at Madame de Varence a building belonging to the Cordelier which joined her house took fire this building which contained their oven being full of dry faggots blazed violently and greatly endangered the house for the wind happening to drive the flames that way it was covered with them the furniture therefore was hastily got out and carried into the garden which fronted the windows on the other side of the before mentioned brook I was so alarmed that I threw indiscriminately everything that came to hand out of the window even to a large stone mortar which at another time I should have found it difficult to remove and should have thrown a handsome looking glass after it had not someone prevented me the good bishop who that day was visiting Madame de Varence did not remain idle he took her into the garden where they went to prayers with the rest that were assembled there and where some time afterwards I found them on their knees and presently joined them while the good man was at his devotions the wind changed so suddenly and critically that the flames which had covered the house and began to enter the windows were carried to the other side of the court and the house received no damage two years after Monsieur de Bernay being dead the Antoine's, his former brethren began to collect anecdotes which might serve as arguments of his beatification at the desire of Father Baudet I joined to these an attestation of what I have just related in doing which though I attested no more than the truth I certainly acted ill as it tended to make an indifferent occurrence pass for a miracle I had seen the bishop in prayer and had likewise seen the wind change during the prayer and even much to the purpose all this I could certify truly but that one of these facts was the cause of the other I ought not to have attested because it is what I could not possibly be assured of thus much I may say that as far as I can recollect what my ideas were at that time I was sincerely and in good earnest a catholic love of the marvellous is natural to the human heart my veneration for the virtuous prelate and secret pride in having perhaps contributed to the event in question all helped to seduce me and certainly if this miracle was the effect of ardent prayer I had a right to claim a share of the merits more than 30 years after when I published the letter de la montagne Monsieur Fréran I know not by what means discovered this attestation and made use of it in his paper I must confess the discovery was very critically timed and appeared very diverting even to me end of section 7 recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmayer Surrey