THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU(In 12 books)

Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society

London, 1903

BOOK I. 

CONTENTS: Introduction--S. W. Orson Book I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

Among the notable books of later times-we may say, without exaggeration, of all time--must be reckoned The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau. It deals with leading personages and transactions of a momentous epoch, when absolutism and feudalism were rallying for their last struggleagainst the modern spirit, chiefly represented by Voltaire, theEncyclopedists, and Rousseau himself--a struggle to which, after manyfierce intestine quarrels and sanguinary wars throughout Europe andAmerica, has succeeded the prevalence of those more tolerant and rationalprinciples by which the statesmen of our own day are actuated. 

On these matters, however, it is not our province to enlarge; nor is itnecessary to furnish any detailed account of our author's political, religious, and philosophic axioms and systems, his paradoxes and hiserrors in logic: these have been so long and so exhaustively disputedover by contending factions that little is left for even the mostassiduous gleaner in the field. The inquirer will find, in Mr. JohnMoney's excellent work, the opinions of Rousseau reviewed succinctly andimpartially. The 'Contrat Social', the 'Lattres Ecrites de la Montagne', and other treatises that once aroused fierce controversy, may thereforebe left in the repose to which they have long been consigned, so far asthe mass of mankind is concerned, though they must always form part ofthe library of the politician and the historian. One prefers to turn tothe man Rousseau as he paints himself in the remarkable work before us. 

That the task which he undertook in offering to show himself--as Persiusputs it--'Intus et in cute', to posterity, exceeded his powers, is atrite criticism; like all human enterprises, his purpose was onlyimperfectly fulfilled; but this circumstance in no way lessens theattractive qualities of his book, not only for the student of history orpsychology, but for the intelligent man of the world. Its startlingfrankness gives it a peculiar interest wanting in most otherautobiographies. 

Many censors have elected to sit in judgment on the failings of thisstrangely constituted being, and some have pronounced upon him verysevere sentences. Let it be said once for all that his faults andmistakes were generally due to causes over which he had but littlecontrol, such as a defective education, a too acute sensitiveness, whichengendered suspicion of his fellows, irresolution, an overstrained senseof honour and independence, and an obstinate refusal to take advice fromthose who really wished to befriend him; nor should it be forgotten thathe was afflicted during the greater part of his life with an incurabledisease. 

Lord Byron had a soul near akin to Rousseau's, whose writings naturallymade a deep impression on the poet's mind, and probably had an influenceon his conduct and modes of thought: In some stanzas of 'Childe Harold'this sympathy is expressed with truth and power; especially is theweakness of the Swiss philosopher's character summed up in the followingadmirable lines:

 "Here the self-torturing sophist, wild Rousseau, The apostle of affliction, he who threw Enchantment over passion, and from woe Wrung overwhelming eloquence, first drew The breath which made him wretched; yet he knew How to make madness beautiful, and cast O'er erring deeds and thoughts a heavenly hue Of words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they passed The eyes, which o'er them shed tears feelingly and fast. 

 "His life was one long war with self-sought foes, Or friends by him self-banished; for his mind Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose, For its own cruel sacrifice, the kind, 'Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind. But he was frenzied, -wherefore, who may know? Since cause might be which skill could never find; But he was frenzied by disease or woe To that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning show. "

One would rather, however, dwell on the brighter hues of the picture thanon its shadows and blemishes; let us not, then, seek to "draw hisfrailties from their dread abode. " His greatest fault was hisrenunciation of a father's duty to his offspring; but this crime heexpiated by a long and bitter repentance. We cannot, perhaps, veryreadily excuse the way in which he has occasionally treated the memory ofhis mistress and benefactress. That he loved Madame de Warens--his'Mamma'--deeply and sincerely is undeniable, notwithstanding which he nowand then dwells on her improvidence and her feminine indiscretions withan unnecessary and unbecoming lack of delicacy that has an unpleasanteffect on the reader, almost seeming to justify the remark of one of hismost lenient critics--that, after all, Rousseau had the soul of a lackey. He possessed, however, many amiable and charming qualities, both as a manand a writer, which were evident to those amidst whom he lived, and willbe equally so to the unprejudiced reader of the Confessions. He had aprofound sense of justice and a real desire for the improvement andadvancement of the race. Owing to these excellences he was beloved tothe last even by persons whom he tried to repel, looking upon them asmembers of a band of conspirators, bent upon destroying his domesticpeace and depriving him of the means of subsistence. 

Those of his writings that are most nearly allied in tone and spirit tothe 'Confessions' are the 'Reveries d'un Promeneur Solitaire' and'La Nouvelle Heloise'. His correspondence throws much light on his lifeand character, as do also parts of 'Emile'. It is not easy in our day torealize the effect wrought upon the public mind by the advent of'La Nouvelle Heloise'. Julie and Saint-Preux became names to conjurewith; their ill-starred amours were everywhere sighed and wept over bythe tender-hearted fair; indeed, in composing this work, Rousseau may besaid to have done for Switzerland what the author of the Waverly Novelsdid for Scotland, turning its mountains, lakes and islands, formerlyregarded with aversion, into a fairyland peopled with creatures whosejoys and sorrows appealed irresistibly to every breast. Shortly afterits publication began to flow that stream of tourists and travellerswhich tends to make Switzerland not only more celebrated but more opulentevery year. It, is one of the few romances written in the epistolaryform that do not oppress the reader with a sense of languor andunreality; for its creator poured into its pages a tide of passionunknown to his frigid and stilted predecessors, and dared to depictNature as she really is, not as she was misrepresented by the modishauthors and artists of the age. Some persons seem shy of owning anacquaintance with this work; indeed, it has been made the butt ofridicule by the disciples of a decadent school. Its faults and itsbeauties are on the surface; Rousseau's own estimate is freely expressedat the beginning of the eleventh book of the Confessions and elsewhere. It might be wished that the preface had been differently conceived andworded; for the assertion made therein that the book may prove dangeroushas caused it to be inscribed on a sort of Index, and good folk who neverread a line of it blush at its name. Its "sensibility, " too, is a littleoverdone, and has supplied the wits with opportunities for satire; forexample, Canning, in his 'New Morality':

 "Sweet Sensibility, who dwells enshrined In the fine foldins of the feeling mind.... Sweet child of sickly Fancy!-her of yore From her loved France Rousseau to exile bore; And while 'midst lakes and mountains wild he ran, Full of himself, and shunned the haunts of man, Taught her o'er each lone vale and Alpine, steep To lisp the story of his wrongs and weep. "

As might be imagined, Voltaire had slight sympathy with our socialreformer's notions and ways of promulgating them, and accordingly tookup his wonted weapons--sarcasm and ridicule--against poor Jean-Jacques. The quarrels of these two great men cannot be described in this place;but they constitute an important chapter in the literary and socialhistory of the time. In the work with which we are immediatelyconcerned, the author seems to avoid frequent mention of Voltaire, evenwhere we should most expect it. However, the state of his mind when hepenned this record of his life should be always remembered in relation tothis as well as other occurrences. 

Rousseau had intended to bring his autobiography down to a later date, but obvious causes prevented this: hence it is believed that a summary ofthe chief events that marked his closing years will not be out of placehere. 

On quitting the Ile de Saint-Pierre he travelled to Strasbourg, where hewas warmly received, and thence to Paris, arriving in that city onDecember I6, 1765. The Prince de Conti provided him with a lodging inthe Hotel Saint-Simon, within the precincts of the Temple--a place ofsanctuary for those under the ban of authority. 'Every one was eager tosee the illustrious proscript, who complained of being made a daily show, "like Sancho Panza in his island of Barataria. " During his short stay inthe capital there was circulated an ironical letter purporting to comefrom the Great Frederick, but really written by Horace Walpole. Thiscruel, clumsy, and ill-timed joke angered Rousseau, who ascribed it to, Voltaire. A few sentences may be quoted:

 "My Dear Jean-Jacques, --You have renounced Geneva, your native place. You have caused your expulsion from Switzerland, a country so extolled in your writings; France has issued a warrant against you: so do you come to me. My states offer you a peaceful retreat. I wish you well, and will treat you well, if you will let me. But, if you persist in refusing my help, do not reckon upon my telling any one that you did so. If you are bent on tormenting your spirit to find new misfortunes, choose whatever you like best. I am a king, and can procure them for you at your pleasure; and, what will certainly never happen to you in respect of your enemies, I will cease to persecute you as soon as you cease to take a pride in being persecuted. Your good friend, "FREDERICK. "

Early in 1766 David Hume persuaded Rousseau to go with him to England, where the exile could find a secure shelter. In London his appearanceexcited general attention. Edmund Burke had an interview with him andheld that inordinate vanity was the leading trait in his character. Mr. Davenport, to whom he was introduced by Hume, generously offeredRousseau a home at Wootton, in Staffordshire, near the, Peak Country; thelatter, however, would only accept the offer on condition that he shouldpay a rent of L 30 a year. He was accorded a pension of L 100 by GeorgeIII. , but declined to draw after the first annual payment. The climateand scenery of Wootton being similar to those of his native country, hewas at first delighted with his new abode, where he lived with Therese, and devoted his time to herborising and inditing the first six books ofhis Confessions. Soon, however, his old hallucinations acquiredstrength, and Rousseau convinced himself that enemies were bent upon hiscapture, if not his death. In June, 1766, he wrote a violent letter toHume, calling him "one of the worst of men. " Literary Paris had combinedwith Hume and the English Government to surround him--as he supposed--with guards and spies; he revolved in his troubled mind all the reportsand rumours he had heard for months and years; Walpole's forged letterrankled in his bosom; and in the spring of 1767 he fled; first toSpalding, in Lincolnshire, and subsequently to Calais, where he landed inMay. 

On his arrival in France his restless and wandering disposition forcedhim continually to change his residence, and acquired for him the titleof "Voyageur Perpetuel. " While at Trye, in Gisors, in 1767--8, he wrotethe second part of the Confessions. He had assumed the surname of Renou, and about this time he declared before two witnesses that Therese was hiswife--a proceeding to which he attached the sanctity of marriage. In1770 he took up his abode in Paris, where he lived continuously for sevenyears, in a street which now bears his name, and gained a living bycopying music. Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, the author of 'Paul andVirginia', who became acquainted with him in 1772, has left someinteresting particulars of Rousseau's daily mode of life at this period. Monsieur de Girardin having offered him an asylum at Ermemonville in thespring of 1778, he and Therese went thither to reside, but for no longtime. On the 3d of July, in the same year, this perturbed spirit at lastfound rest, stricken by apoplexy. A rumor that he had committed suicidewas circulated, but the evidence of trustworthy witnesses, including aphysician, effectually contradicts this accusation. His remains, firstinterred in the Ile des Peupliers, were, after the Revolution, removed tothe Pantheon. In later times the Government of Geneva made somereparation for their harsh treatment of a famous citizen, and erected hisstatue, modelled by his compatriot, Pradier, on an island in the Rhone. 

 "See nations, slowly wise and meanly just, To buried merit raise the tardy bust. "

November, 1896. S. W. ORSON. 

 THE CONFESSIONS

 OF

 J. J. ROUSSEAU

BOOK I. 

I have entered upon a performance which is without example, whoseaccomplishment will have no imitator. I mean to present myfellow-mortals with a man in all the integrity of nature; and this manshall be myself. 

I know my heart, and have studied mankind; I am not made like any one Ihave been acquainted with, perhaps like no one in existence; if notbetter, I at least claim originality, and whether Nature did wisely inbreaking the mould with which she formed me, can only be determined afterhaving read this work. 

Whenever the last trumpet shall sound, I will present myself before thesovereign judge with this book in my hand, and loudly proclaim, thus haveI acted; these were my thoughts; such was I. With equal freedom andveracity have I related what was laudable or wicked, I have concealed nocrimes, added no virtues; and if I have sometimes introduced superfluousornament, it was merely to occupy a void occasioned by defect of memory:I may have supposed that certain, which I only knew to be probable, buthave never asserted as truth, a conscious falsehood. Such as I was, Ihave declared myself; sometimes vile and despicable, at others, virtuous, generous and sublime; even as thou hast read my inmost soul: Powereternal! assemble round thy throne an innumerable throng of myfellow-mortals, let them listen to my confessions, let them blush at mydepravity, let them tremble at my sufferings; let each in his turn exposewith equal sincerity the failings, the wanderings of his heart, and, ifhe dare, aver, I was better than that man. 

I was born at Geneva, in 1712, son of Isaac Rousseau and SusannahBernard, citizens. My father's share of a moderate competency, which wasdivided among fifteen children, being very trivial, his business of awatchmaker (in which he had the reputation of great ingenuity) was hisonly dependence. My mother's circumstances were more affluent; she wasdaughter of a Mons. Bernard, minister, and possessed a considerable shareof modesty and beauty; indeed, my father found some difficulty inobtaining her hand. 

The affection they entertained for each other was almost as early astheir existence; at eight or nine years old they walked together everyevening on the banks of the Treille, and before they were ten, could notsupport the idea of separation. A natural sympathy of soul confinedthose sentiments of predilection which habit at first produced; born withminds susceptible of the most exquisite sensibility and tenderness, itwas only necessary to encounter similar dispositions; that momentfortunately presented itself, and each surrendered a willing heart. 

The obstacles that opposed served only to give a decree of vivacity totheir affection, and the young lover, not being able to obtain hismistress, was overwhelmed with sorrow and despair. She advised him totravel--to forget her. He consented--he travelled, but returned morepassionate than ever, and had the happiness to find her equally constant, equally tender. After this proof of mutual affection, what could theyresolve?--to dedicate their future lives to love! the resolution wasratified with a vow, on which Heaven shed its benediction. 

Fortunately, my mother's brother, Gabriel Bernard, fell in love with oneof my father's sisters; she had no objection to the match, but made themarriage of his sister with her brother an indispensable preliminary. Love soon removed every obstacle, and the two weddings were celebratedthe same day: thus my uncle became the husband of my aunt, and theirchildren were doubly cousins german. Before a year was expired, both hadthe happiness to become fathers, but were soon after obliged to submit toa separation. 

My uncle Bernard, who was an engineer, went to serve in the empire andHungary, under Prince Eugene, and distinguished himself both at the siegeand battle of Belgrade. My father, after the birth of my only brother, set off, on recommendation, for Constantinople, and was appointedwatchmaker to the Seraglio. During his absence, the beauty, wit, andaccomplishments--

 [They were too brilliant for her situation, the minister, her father, having bestowed great pains on her education. She was aught drawing, singing, and to play on the theorbo; had learning, and wrote very agreeable verses. The following is an extempore piece which she composed in the absence of her husband and brother, in a conversation with some person relative to them, while walking with her sister--in--law, and their two children:

 Ces deux messieurs, qui sont absens, Nous sont chers e bien des manieres; Ce sont nos amiss, nos amans, Ce sont nos maris et nos freres, Et les peres de ces enfans. 

 These absent ones, who just claim Our hearts, by every tender name, To whom each wish extends Our husbands and our brothers are, The fathers of this blooming pair, Our lovers and our friends. ]

of my mother attracted a number of admirers, among whom Mons. De laClosure, Resident of France, was the most assiduous in his attentions. His passion must have been extremely violent, since after a period ofthirty years I have seen him affected at the very mention of her name. My mother had a defence more powerful even than her virtue; she tenderlyloved my father, and conjured him to return; his inclination secondinghis request, he gave up every prospect of emolument, and hastened toGeneva. 

I was the unfortunate fruit of this return, being born ten months after, in a very weakly and infirm state; my birth cost my mother her life, andwas the first of my misfortunes. I am ignorant how my father supportedher loss at that time, but I know he was ever after inconsolable. In mehe still thought he saw her he so tenderly lamented, but could neverforget I had been the innocent cause of his misfortune, nor did he everembrace me, but his sighs, the convulsive pressure of his arms, witnessedthat a bitter regret mingled itself with his caresses, though, as may besupposed, they were not on this account less ardent. When he said to me, "Jean Jacques, let us talk of your mother, " my usual reply was, "Yes, father, but then, you know, we shall cry, " and immediately the tearsstarted from his eyes. "Ah!" exclaimed he, with agitation, "Give me backmy wife; at least console me for her loss; fill up, dear boy, the voidshe has left in my soul. Could I love thee thus wert thou only my son?"Forty years after this loss he expired in the arms of his second wife, but the name of the first still vibrated on his lips, still was her imageengraved on his heart. 

Such were the authors of my being: of all the gifts it had pleased Heavento bestow on them, a feeling heart was the only one that descended to me;this had been the source of their felicity, it was the foundation of allmy misfortunes. 

I came into the world with so few signs of life, that they entertainedbut little hope of preserving me, with the seeds of a disorder that hasgathered strength with years, and from which I am now relieved atintervals, only to suffer a different, though more intolerable evil. I owed my preservation to one of my father's sisters, an amiable andvirtuous girl, who took the most tender care of me; she is yet living, nursing, at the age of four--score, a husband younger than herself, butworn out with excessive drinking. Dear aunt! I freely forgive yourhaving preserved my life, and only lament that it is not in my power tobestow on the decline of your days the tender solicitude and care youlavished on the first dawn of mine. My nurse, Jaqueline, is likewiseliving: and in good health--the hands that opened my eyes to the light ofthis world may close them at my death. We suffer before we think; it isthe common lot of humanity. I experienced more than my proportion of it. I have no knowledge of what passed prior to my fifth or sixth year; Irecollect nothing of learning to read, I only remember what effect thefirst considerable exercise of it produced on my mind; and from thatmoment I date an uninterrupted knowledge of myself. 

Every night, after supper, we read some part of a small collection ofromances which had been my mother's. My father's design was only toimprove me in reading, and he thought these entertaining works werecalculated to give me a fondness for it; but we soon found ourselves sointerested in the adventures they contained, that we alternately readwhole nights together, and could not bear to give over until at theconclusion of a volume. Sometimes, in a morning, on hearing the swallowsat our window, my father, quite ashamed of this weakness, would cry, "Come, come, let us go to bed; I am more a child than thou art. "

I soon acquired, by this dangerous custom, not only an extreme facilityin reading and comprehending, but, for my age, a too intimateacquaintance with the passions. An infinity of sensations were familiarto me, without possessing any precise idea of the objects to which theyrelated--I had conceived nothing--I had felt the whole. This confusedsuccession of emotions did not retard the future efforts of my reason, though they added an extravagant, romantic notion of human life, whichexperience and reflection have never been able to eradicate. 

My romance reading concluded with the summer of 1719, the followingwinter was differently employed. My mother's library being quiteexhausted, we had recourse to that part of her father's which haddevolved to us; here we happily found some valuable books, which was byno means extraordinary, having been selected by a minister that trulydeserved that title, in whom learning (which was the rage of the times)was but a secondary commendation, his taste and good sense being mostconspicuous. The history of the Church and Empire by Le Sueur, Bossuett's Discourses on Universal History, Plutarch's Lives, the historyof Venice by Nani, Ovid's Metamorphoses, La Bruyere, Fontenelle's World, his Dialogues of the Dead, and a few volumes of Moliere, were soon rangedin my father's closet, where, during the hours he was employed in hisbusiness, I daily read them, with an avidity and taste uncommon, perhapsunprecedented at my age. 

Plutarch presently became my greatest favorite. The satisfaction Iderived from repeated readings I gave this author, extinguished mypassion for romances, and I shortly preferred Agesilaus, Brutus, andAristides, to Orondates, Artemenes, and Juba. These interestingstudies, seconded by the conversations they frequently occasioned with myfather, produced that republican spirit and love of liberty, that haughtyand invincible turn of mind, which rendered me impatient of restraint orservitude, and became the torment of my life, as I continually foundmyself in situations incompatible with these sentiments. Incessantlyoccupied with Rome and Athens, conversing, if I may so express myselfwith their illustrious heroes; born the citizen of a republic, of afather whose ruling passion was a love of his country, I was fired withthese examples; could fancy myself a Greek or Roman, and readily giveinto the character of the personage whose life I read; transported by therecital of any extraordinary instance of fortitude or intrepidity, animation flashed from my eyes, and gave my voice additional strength andenergy. One day, at table, while relating the fortitude of Scoevola, they were terrified at seeing me start from my seat and hold my hand overa hot chafing--dish, to represent more forcibly the action of thatdetermined Roman. 

My brother, who was seven years older than myself, was brought up to myfather's profession. The extraordinary affection they lavished on memight be the reason he was too much neglected: this certainly was a faultwhich cannot be justified. His education and morals suffered by thisneglect, and he acquired the habits of a libertine before he arrived atan age to be really one. My father tried what effect placing him with amaster would produce, but he still persisted in the same ill conduct. Though I saw him so seldom that it could hardly be said we wereacquainted. I loved him tenderly, and believe he had as strong anaffection for me as a youth of his dissipated turn of mind could besupposed capable of. One day, I remember, when my father was correctinghim severely, I threw myself between them, embracing my brother, whom Icovered with my body, receiving the strokes designed for him; I persistedso obstinately in my protection, that either softened by my cries andtears, or fearing to hurt me most, his anger subsided, and he pardonedhis fault. In the end, my brother's conduct became so bad that hesuddenly disappeared, and we learned some time after that he was inGermany, but he never wrote to us, and from that day we heard no news ofhim: thus I became an only son. 

If this poor lad was neglected, it was quite different with his brother, for the children of a king could not be treated with more attention andtenderness than were bestowed on my infancy, being the darling of thefamily; and what is rather uncommon, though treated as a beloved, nevera spoiled child; was never permitted, while under paternal inspection, to play in the street with other children; never had any occasion tocontradict or indulge those fantastical humors which are usuallyattributed to nature, but are in reality the effects of an injudiciouseducation. I had the faults common to my age, was talkative, a glutton, and sometimes a liar, made no scruple of stealing sweetmeats, fruits, or, indeed, any kind of eatables; but never took delight in mischievouswaste, in accusing others, or tormenting harmless animals. I recollect, indeed, that one day, while Madam Clot, a neighbor of ours, was gone tochurch, I made water in her kettle: the remembrance even now makes mesmile, for Madame Clot (though, if you please, a good sort of creature)was one of the most tedious grumbling old women I ever knew. Thus have Igiven a brief, but faithful, history of my childish transgressions. 

How could I become cruel or vicious, when I had before my eyes onlyexamples of mildness, and was surrounded by some of the best people inthe world? My father, my aunt, my nurse, my relations, our friends, ourneighbors, all I had any connection with, did not obey me, it is true, but loved me tenderly, and I returned their affection. I found so littleto excite my desires, and those I had were so seldom contradicted, that Iwas hardly sensible of possessing any, and can solemnly aver I was anabsolute stranger to caprice until after I had experienced the authorityof a master. 

Those hours that were not employed in reading or writing with my father, or walking with my governess, Jaqueline, I spent with my aunt; andwhether seeing her embroider, or hearing her sing, whether sitting orstanding by her side, I was ever happy. Her tenderness and unaffectedgayety, the charms of her figure and countenance have left such indelibleimpressions on my mind, that her manner, look, and attitude are stillbefore my eyes; I recollect a thousand little caressing questions; coulddescribe her clothes, her head-dress, nor have the two curls of fineblack hair which hung on her temples, according to the mode of that time, escaped my memory. 

Though my taste, or rather passion, for music, did not show itself untila considerable time after, I am fully persuaded it is to her I amindebted for it. She knew a great number of songs, which she sung withgreat sweetness and melody. The serenity and cheerfulness which wereconspicuous in this lovely girl, banished melancholy, and made all roundher happy. 

The charms of her voice had such an effect on me, that not only severalof her songs have ever since remained on my memory, but some I have notthought of from my infancy, as I grow old, return upon my mind with acharm altogether inexpressible. Would any one believe that an old dotardlike me, worn out with care and infirmity, should sometime surprisehimself weeping like a child, and in a voice querulous, and broken byage, muttering out one of those airs which were the favorites of myinfancy? There is one song in particular, whose tune I perfectlyrecollect, but the words that compose the latter half of it constantlyrefuse every effort to recall them, though I have a confused idea of therhymes. The beginning, with what I have been able to recollect of theremainder, is as follows:

 Tircis, je n'ose Ecouter ton Chalumeau Sous l'Ormeau; Car on en cause Deja dans notre hameau. ---- ---- ------- ------ --- un Berger s'engager sans danger, Et toujours l'epine est sons la rose. 

I have endeavored to account for the invincible charm my heart feels onthe recollection of this fragment, but it is altogether inexplicable. I only know, that before I get to the end of it, I always find my voiceinterrupted by tenderness, and my eyes suffused with tears. I have ahundred times formed the resolution of writing to Paris for the remainderof these words, if any one should chance to know them: but I am almostcertain the pleasure I take in the recollection would be greatlydiminished was I assured any one but my poor aunt Susan had sung them. 

Such were my affections on entering this life. Thus began to form anddemonstrate itself, a heart, at once haughty and tender, a charactereffeminate, yet invincible; which, fluctuating between weakness andcourage, luxury and virtue, has ever set me in contradiction to myself;causing abstinence and enjoyment, pleasure and prudence, equally to shunme. 

This course of education was interrupted by an accident, whoseconsequences influenced the rest of my life. My father had a quarrelwith M. G----, who had a captain's commission in France, and was relatedto several of the Council. This G----, who was an insolent, ungenerousman, happening to bleed at the nose, in order to be revenged, accused myfather of having drawn his sword on him in the city, and in consequenceof this charge they were about to conduct him to prison. He insisted(according to the law of this republic) that the accuser should beconfined at the same time; and not being able to obtain this, preferred avoluntary banishment for the remainder of his life, to giving up a pointby which he must sacrifice his honor and liberty. 

I remained under the tuition of my uncle Bernard, who was at that timeemployed in the fortifications of Geneva. He had lost his eldestdaughter, but had a son about my own age, and we were sent together toBossey, to board with the Minister Lambercier. Here we were to learnLatin, with all the insignificant trash that has obtained the name ofeducation. 

Two years spent in this village softened, in some degree, my Romanfierceness, and again reduced me to a state of childhood. At Geneva, where nothing was exacted, I loved reading, which was, indeed, myprincipal amusement; but, at Bossey, where application was expected, I was fond of play as a relaxation. The country was so new, so charmingin my idea, that it seemed impossible to find satiety in its enjoyments, and I conceived a passion for rural life, which time has not been able toextinguish; nor have I ever ceased to regret the pure and tranquilpleasures I enjoyed at this place in my childhood; the remembrance havingfollowed me through every age, even to that in which I am hastening againtowards it. 

M. Lambercier was a worthy, sensible man, who, without neglecting ourinstruction, never made our acquisitions burthensome, or tasks tedious. What convinces me of the rectitude of his method is, that notwithstandingmy extreme aversion to restraint, the recollection of my studies is neverattended with disgust; and, if my improvement was trivial, it wasobtained with ease, and has never escaped memory. 

The simplicity of this rural life was of infinite advantage in opening myheart to the reception of true friendship. The sentiments I had hithertoformed on this subject were extremely elevated, but altogether imaginary. The habit of living in this peaceful manner soon united me tenderly to mycousin Bernard; my affection was more ardent than that I had felt for mybrother, nor has time ever been able to efface it. He was a tall, lank, weakly boy, with a mind as mild as his body was feeble, and who did notwrong the good opinion they were disposed to entertain for the son of myguardian. Our studies, amusements, and tasks, were the same; we werealone; each wanted a playmate; to separate would in some measure, havebeen to annihilate us. Though we had not many opportunities ofdemonstrating our attachment to each other, it was certainly extreme; andso far from enduring the thought of separation, we could not even form anidea that we should ever be able to submit to it. Each of a dispositionto be won by kindness, and complaisant, when not soured by contradiction, we agreed in every particular. If, by the favor of those who governed ushe had the ascendant while in their presence, I was sure to acquire itwhen we were alone, and this preserved the equilibrium so necessary infriendship. If he hesitated in repeating his task, I prompted him; whenmy exercises were finished, I helped to write his; and, in ouramusements, my disposition being most active, ever had the lead. In aword, our characters accorded so well, and the friendship that subsistedbetween us was so cordial, that during the five years we were at Bosseyand Geneva we were inseparable: we often fought, it is true, but therenever was any occasion to separate us. No one of our quarrels lastedmore than a quarter of an hour, and never in our lives did we make anycomplaint of each other. It may be said, these remarks are frivolous;but, perhaps, a similiar example among children can hardly be produced. 

The manner in which I passed my time at Bossey was so agreeable to mydisposition, that it only required a longer duration absolutely to havefixed my character, which would have had only peaceable, affectionate, benevolent sentiments for its basis. I believe no individual of our kindever possessed less natural vanity than myself. At intervals, by anextraordinary effort, I arrived at sublime ideas, but presently sunkagain into my original languor. To be loved by every one who knew me wasmy most ardent wish. I was naturally mild, my cousin was equally so, andthose who had the care of us were of similiar dispositions. Everythingcontributed to strengthen those propensities which nature had implantedin my breast, and during the two years I was neither the victim norwitness of any violent emotions. 

I knew nothing so delightful as to see every one content, not only withme, but all that concerned them. When repeating our catechism at church, nothing could give me greater vexation, on being obliged to hesitate, than to see Miss Lambercier's countenance express disapprobation anduneasiness. This alone was more afflicting to me than the shame offaltering before so many witnesses, which, notwithstanding, wassufficiently painful; for though not oversolicitous of praise, I wasfeelingly alive to shame; yet I can truly affirm, the dread of beingreprimanded by Miss Lambercier alarmed me less than the thought of makingher uneasy. 

Neither she nor her brother were deficient in a reasonable severity, butas this was scarce ever exerted without just cause, I was more afflictedat their disapprobation than the punishment. Certainly the method oftreating youth would be altered if the distant effects, thisindiscriminate, and frequently indiscreet method produces, were moreconspicuous. I would willingly excuse myself from a further explanation, did not the lesson this example conveys (which points out an evil asfrequent as it is pernicious) forbid my silence. 

As Miss Lambercier felt a mother's affection, she sometimes exerted amother's authority, even to inflicting on us when we deserved it, thepunishment of infants. She had often threatened it, and this threat of atreatment entirely new, appeared to me extremely dreadful; but I foundthe reality much less terrible than the idea, and what is still moreunaccountable, this punishment increased my affection for the person whohad inflicted it. All this affection, aided by my natural mildness, wasscarcely sufficient to prevent my seeking, by fresh offences, a return ofthe same chastisement; for a degree of sensuality had mingled with thesmart and shame, which left more desire than fear of a repetition. I waswell convinced the same discipline from her brother would have produced aquite contrary effect; but from a man of his disposition this was notprobable, and if I abstained from meriting correction it was merely froma fear of offending Miss Lambercier, for benevolence, aided by thepassions, has ever maintained an empire over me which has given law to myheart. 

This event, which, though desirable, I had not endeavored to accelerate, arrived without my fault; I should say, without my seeking; and Iprofited by it with a safe conscience; but this second, was also the lasttime, for Miss Lambercier, who doubtless had some reason to imagine thischastisement did not produce the desired effect, declared it was toofatiguing, and that she renounced it for the future. Till now we hadslept in her chamber, and during the winter, even in her bed; but twodays after another room was prepared for us, and from that moment I hadthe honor (which I could very well have dispensed with) of being treatedby her as a great boy. 

Who would believe this childish discipline, received at eight years old, from the hands of a woman of thirty, should influence my propensities, my desires, my passions, for the rest of my life, and that in quite acontrary sense from what might naturally have been expected? The veryincident that inflamed my senses, gave my desires such an extraordinaryturn, that, confined to what I had already experienced, I sought nofurther, and, with blood boiling with sensuality, almost from my birth, preserved my purity beyond the age when the coldest constitutions losetheir insensibility; long tormented, without knowing by what, I gazed onevery handsome woman with delight; imagination incessantly brought theircharms to my remembrance, only to transform them into so many MissLamberciers. 

If ever education was perfectly chaste, it was certainly that I received;my three aunts were not only of exemplary prudence, but maintained adegree of modest reserve which women have long since thought unnecessary. My father, it is true, loved pleasure, but his gallantry was rather ofthe last than the present century, and he never expressed his affectionfor any woman he regarded in terms a virgin could have blushed at;indeed, it was impossible more attention should be paid to that regard weowe the morals of children than was uniformly observed by every one I hadany concern with. An equal degree of reserve in this particular wasobserved at M. Lambercier's, where a good maid-servant was discharged forhaving once made use of an expression before us which was thought tocontain some degree of indelicacy. I had no precise idea of the ultimateeffect of the passions, but the conception I had formed was extremelydisgusting; I entertained a particular aversion for courtesans, nor couldI look on a rake without a degree of disdain mingled with terror. 

These prejudices of education, proper in themselves to retard the firstexplosions of a combustible constitution, were strengthened, as I havealready hinted, by the effect the first moments of sensuality produced inme, for notwithstanding the troublesome ebullition of my blood, I wassatisfied with the species of voluptuousness I had already beenacquainted with, and sought no further. 

Thus I passed the age of puberty, with a constitution extremely ardent, without knowing or even wishing for any other gratification of thepassions than what Miss Lambercier had innocently given me an idea of;and when I became a man, that childish taste, instead of vanishing, onlyassociated with the other. This folly, joined to a natural timidity, hasalways prevented my being very enterprising with women, so that I havepassed my days in languishing in silence for those I most admired, without daring to disclose my wishes. 

To fall at the feet of an imperious mistress, obey her mandates, orimplore pardon, were for me the most exquisite enjoyments, and the moremy blood was inflamed by the efforts of a lively imagination the more Iacquired the appearance of a whining lover. 

It will be readily conceived that this mode of making love is notattended with a rapid progress or imminent danger to the virtue of itsobject; yet, though I have few favors to boast of, I have not beenexcluded from enjoyment, however imaginary. Thus the senses, inconcurrence with a mind equally timid and romantic, have preserved mymoral chaste, and feelings uncorrupted, with precisely the sameinclinations, which, seconded with a moderate portion of effrontery, might have plunged me into the most unwarrantable excesses. 

I have made the first, most difficult step, in the obscure and painfulmaze of my Confessions. We never feel so great a degree of repugnance indivulging what is really criminal, as what is merely ridiculous. I amnow assured of my resolution, for after what I have dared disclose, nothing can have power to deter me. The difficulty attending theseacknowledgments will be readily conceived, when I declare, that duringthe whole of my life, though frequently laboring under the most violentagitation, being hurried away with the impetuosity of a passion which(when in company with those I loved) deprived me of the faculty of sightand hearing, I could never, in the course of the most unboundedfamiliarity, acquire sufficient resolution to declare my folly, andimplore the only favor that remained to bestow. 

In thus investigating the first traces of my sensible existence, I findelements, which, though seemingly incompatible, have united to produce asimple and uniform effect; while others, apparently the same, have, bythe concurrence of certain circumstances, formed such differentcombinations, that it would never be imagined they had any affinity; whowould believe, for example, that one of the most vigorous springs of mysoul was tempered in the identical source from whence luxury and easemingled with my constitution and circulated in my veins? Before I quitthis subject, I will add a striking instance of the different effectsthey produced. 

One day, while I was studying in a chamber contiguous to the kitchen, themaid set some of Miss Lambercier's combs to dry by the fire, and oncoming to fetch them some time after, was surprised to find the teeth ofone of them broken off. Who could be suspected of this mischief? No onebut myself had entered the room: I was questioned, but denied having anyknowledge of it. Mr. And Miss Lambercier consult, exhort, threaten, butall to no purpose; I obstinately persist in the denial; and, though thiswas the first time I had been detected in a confirmed falsehood, appearances were so strong that they overthrew all my protestations. This affair was thought serious; the mischief, the lie, the obstinacy, were considered equally deserving of punishment, which was not now to beadministered by Miss Lambercier. My uncle Bernard was written to; hearrived; and my poor cousin being charged with a crime no less serious, we were conducted to the same execution, which was inflicted with greatseverity. If finding a remedy in the evil itself, they had sought everto allay my depraved desires, they could not have chosen a shorter methodto accomplish their designs, and, I can assure my readers, I was for along time freed from the dominion of them. 

As this severity could not draw from me the expected acknowledgment, which obstinacy brought on several repetitions, and reduced me to adeplorable situation, yet I was immovable, and resolutely determined tosuffer death rather than submit. Force, at length, was obliged to yieldto the diabolical infatuation of a child, for no better name was bestowedon my constancy, and I came out of this dreadful trial, torn, it is true, but triumphant. Fifty years have expired since this adventure--the fearof punishment is no more. Well, then, I aver, in the face of Heaven, Iwas absolutely innocent: and, so far from breaking, or even touching thecomb, never came near the fire. It will be asked, how did this mischiefhappen? I can form no conception of it, I only know my own innocence. 

Let any one figure to himself a character whose leading traits weredocility and timidity, but haughty, ardent, and invincible, in itspassions; a child, hitherto governed by the voice of reason, treated withmildness, equity, and complaisance, who could not even support the ideaof injustice, experiencing, for the first time, so violent an instance ofit, inflicted by those he most loved and respected. What perversion ofideas! What confusion in the heart, the brain, in all my little being, intelligent and moral!--let any one, I say, if possible, imagine allthis, for I am incapable of giving the least idea of what passed in mymind at that period. 

My reason was not sufficiently established to enable me to put myself inthe place of others, and judge how much appearances condemned me, I onlybeheld the rigor of a dreadful chastisement, inflicted for a crime I hadnot committed; yet I can truly affirm, the smart I suffered, thoughviolent, was inconsiderable compared to what I felt from indignation, rage, and despair. My cousin, who was almost in similar circumstances, having been punished for an involuntary fault as guilty of a premediatedcrime, became furious by my example. Both in the same bed, we embracedeach other with convulsive transport; we were almost suffocated; and whenour young hearts found sufficient relief to breathe out our indigination, we sat up in the bed, and with all our force, repeated a hundred times, Carnifex! Carnifex! Carnifex! executioner, tormentor. 

Even while I write this I feel my pulse quicken, and should I live ahundred thousand years, the agitation of that moment would still be freshin my memory. The first instance of violence and oppression is so deeplyengraved on my soul, that every relative idea renews my emotion: thesentiment of indignation, which in its origin had reference only tomyself, has acquired such strength, and is at present so completelydetached from personal motives, that my heart is as much inflamed at thesight or relation of any act of injustice (whatever may be the object, orwheresoever it may be perpetrated) as if I was the immediate sufferer. When I read the history of a merciless tyrant, or the dark and the subtlemachination of a knavish designing priest, I could on the instant set offto stab the miscreants, though I was certain to perish in the attempt. 

I have frequently fatigued myself by running after and stoning a cock, acow, a dog, or any animal I saw tormenting another, only because it wasconscious of possessing superior strength. This may be natural to me, and I am inclined to believe it is, though the lively impression of thefirst injustice I became the victim of was too long and too powerfullyremembered not to have added considerable force to it. 

This occurrence terminated my infantine serenity; from that moment Iceased to enjoy a pure unadulterated happiness, and on a retrospection ofthe pleasure of my childhood, I yet feel they ended here. We continue atBossey some months after this event, but were like our first parents inthe Garden of Eden after they had lost their innocence; in appearance oursituation was the same, in effect it was totally different. 

Affection, respect; intimacy, confidence, no longer attached the pupilsto their guides; we beheld them no longer as divinities, who could readthe secrets of our hearts; we were less ashamed of committing faults, more afraid of being accused of them: we learned to dissemble, to rebel, to lie: all the vices common to our years began to corrupt our happyinnocence, mingle with our sports, and embitter our amusements. Thecountry itself, losing those sweet and simple charms which captivate theheart, appeared a gloomy desert, or covered with a veil that concealedits beauties. We cultivated our little gardens no more: our flowers wereneglected. We no longer scratched away the mould, and broke out intoexclamations of delight, on discovering that the grain we had sown beganto shoot. We were disgusted with our situation; our preceptors wereweary of us. In a word, my uncle wrote for our return, and we left Mr. And Miss Lambercier without feeling any regret at the separation. 

Near thirty years passed away from my leaving Bossey, without oncerecalling the place to my mind with any degree of satisfaction; but afterhaving passed the prime of life, as I decline into old age (while morerecent occurrences are wearing out apace) I feel these remembrancesrevive and imprint themselves on my heart, with a force and charm thatevery day acquires fresh strength; as if, feeling life fleet from me, I endeavored to catch it again by its commencement. The most triflingincident of those happy days delight me, for no other reason than beingof those days. I recall every circumstance of time, place, and persons;I see the maid or footman busy in the chamber, a swallow entering thewindow, a fly settling on my hand while repeating my lessons. I see thewhole economy of the apartment; on the right hand Mr. Lambercier'scloset, with a print representing all the popes, a barometer, a largealmanac, the windows of the house (which stood in a hollow at the bottomof the garden) shaded by raspberry shrubs, whose shoots sometimes foundentrance; I am sensible the reader has no occasion to know all this, butI feel a kind of necessity for relating it. Why am I not permitted torecount all the little anecdotes of that thrice happy age, at therecollection of whose joys I ever tremble with delight? Five or sixparticularly--let us compromise the matter--I will give up five, butthen I must have one, and only one, provided I may draw it out to itsutmost length, in order to prolong my satisfaction. 

If I only sought yours, I should choose that of Miss Lambercier'sbackside, which by an unlucky fall at the bottom of the meadow, wasexposed to the view of the King of Sardinia, who happened to be passingby; but that of the walnut tree on the terrace is more amusing to me, since here I was an actor, whereas, in the abovementioned scene I wasonly a spectator; and I must confess I see nothing that should occasionrisibility in an accident, which, however laughable in itself, alarmed mefor a person I loved as a mother, or perhaps something more. 

Ye curious readers, whose expectations are already on the stretch for thenoble history of the terrace, listen to the tragedy, and abstain fromtrembling, if you can, at the horrible catastrophe!

At the outside of the courtyard door, on the left hand, was a terrace;here they often sat after dinner; but it was subject to oneinconvenience, being too much exposed to the rays of the sun; to obviatethis defect, Mr. Lambercier had a walnut tree set there, the planting ofwhich was attended with great solemnity. The two boarders weregodfathers, and while the earth was replacing round the root, each heldthe tree with one hand, singing songs of triumph. In order to water itwith more effect, they formed a kind of luson around its foot: myself andcousin, who were every day ardent spectators of this watering, confirmedeach other in the very natural idea that it was nobler to plant trees onthe terrace than colors on a breach, and this glory we were resolved toprocure without dividing it with any one. 

In pursuance of this resolution, we cut a slip off a willow, and plantedit on the terrace, at about eight or ten feet distance from the augustwalnut tree. We did not forget to make a hollow round it, but thedifficulty was how to procure a supply of water, which was brought from aconsiderable distance, and we not permitted to fetch it: but water wasabsolutely necessary for our willow, and we made use of every stratagemto obtain it. 

For a few days everything succeeded so well that it began to bud, andthrow out small leaves, which we hourly measured convinced (tho' nowscarce a foot from the ground) it would soon afford us a refreshingshade. This unfortunate willow, by engrossing our whole time, renderedus incapable of application to any other study, and the cause of ourinattention not being known, we were kept closer than before. The fatalmoment approached when water must fail, and we were already afflictedwith the idea that our tree must perish with drought. At lengthnecessity, the parent of industry, suggested an invention, by which wemight save our tree from death, and ourselves from despair; it was tomake a furrow underground, which would privately conduct a part of thewater from the walnut tree to our willow. This undertaking was executedwith ardor, but did not immediately succeed--our descent was notskilfully planned--the water did not run, the earth falling in andstopping up the furrow; yet, though all went contrary, nothingdiscouraged us, 'omnia vincit labor improbus'. We made the bason deeper, to give the water a more sensible descent; we cut the bottom of a boxinto narrow planks; increased the channel from the walnut tree to ourwillow and laying a row flat at the bottom, set two others incliningtowards each other, so as to form a triangular channel; we formed a kindof grating with small sticks at the end next the walnut tree, to preventthe earth and stones from stopping it up, and having carefully coveredour work with well--trodden earth, in a transport of hope and fearattended the hour of watering. After an interval, which seemed an age ofexpectation, this hour arrived. Mr. Lambercier, as usual, assisted atthe operation; we contrived to get between him and our tree, towardswhich he fortunately turned his back. They no sooner began to pour thefirst pail of water, than we perceived it running to the willow; thissight was too much for our prudence, and we involuntarily expressed ourtransport by a shout of joy. The sudden exclamation made Mr. Lambercierturn about, though at that instant he was delighted to observe howgreedily the earth, which surrounded the root of his walnut tree, imbibedthe water. Surprised at seeing two trenches partake of it, he shouted inhis turn, examines, perceives the roguery, and, sending instantly for apick axe, at one fatal blow makes two or three of our planks fly, cryingout meantime with all his strength, an aqueduct! an aqueduct! Hisstrokes redoubled, every one of which made an impression on our hearts;in a moment the planks, the channel, the bason, even our favorite willow, all were ploughed up, nor was one word pronounced during this terribletransaction, except the above mentioned exclamation. An aqueduct!repeated he, while destroying all our hopes, an aqueduct! an aqueduct!

It maybe supposed this adventure had a still more melancholy end for theyoung architects; this, however, was not the case; the affair ended here. Mr. Lambercier never reproached us on this account, nor was hiscountenance clouded with a frown; we even heard him mention thecircumstance to his sister with loud bursts of laughter. The laugh ofMr. Lambercier might be heard to a considerable distance. But what isstill more surprising after the first transport of sorrow had subsided, we did not find ourselves violently afflicted; we planted a tree inanother spot, and frequently recollected the catastrophe of the former, repeating with a significant emphasis, an aqueduct! an aqueduct!Till then, at intervals, I had fits of ambition, and could fancy myselfBrutus or Aristides, but this was the first visible effect of my vanity. To have constructed an aqueduct with our own hands, to have set a slip ofwillow in competition with a flourishing tree, appeared to me a supremedegree of glory! I had a juster conception of it at ten than Caesarentertained at thirty. 

The idea of this walnut tree, with the little anecdotes it gave rise to, have so well continued, or returned to my memory, that the design whichconveyed the most pleasing sensations, during my journey to Geneva, inthe year 1754, was visiting Bossey, and reviewing the monuments of myinfantine amusement, above all, the beloved walnut tree, whose age atthat time must have been verging on a third of a century, but I was sobeset with company that I could not find a moment to accomplish mydesign. There is little appearance now of the occasion being renewed;but should I ever return to that charming spot, and find my favoritewalnut tree still existing, I am convinced I should water it with mytears. 

On my return to Geneva, I passed two or three years at my uncle's, expecting the determination of my friends respecting my futureestablishment. His own son being devoted to genius, was taught drawing, and instructed by his father in the elements of Euclid; I partook ofthese instructions, but was principally fond of drawing. Meantime, theywere irresolute, whether to make me a watchmaker, a lawyer, or aminister. I should have preferred being a minister, as I thought it mustbe a charming thing to preach, but the trifling income which had been mymother's, and was to be divided between my brother and myself, was tooinconsiderable to defray the expense attending the prosecution of mystudies. As my age did not render the choice very pressing, I remainedwith my uncle, passing my time with very little improvement, and payingpretty dear, though not unreasonably, for my board. 

My uncle, like my father, was a man of pleasure, but had not learned, like him, to abridge his amusements for the sake of instructing hisfamily, consequently our education was neglected. My aunt was a devotee, who loved singing psalms better than thinking of our improvement, so thatwe were left entirely to ourselves, which liberty we never abused. 

Ever inseparable, we were all the world to each other; and, feeling noinclination to frequent the company of a number of disorderly lads of ourown age, we learned none of those habits of libertinism to which our idlelife exposed us. Perhaps I am wrong in charging myself and cousin withidleness at this time, for, in our lives, we were never less so; and whatwas extremely fortunate, so incessantly occupied with our amusements, that we found no temptation to spend any part of our time in the streets. We made cages, pipes, kites, drums, houses, ships, and bows; spoiled thetools of my good old grandfather by endeavoring to make watches inimitation of him; but our favorite amusement was wasting paper, indrawing, washing, coloring, etc. There came an Italian mountebank toGeneva, called Gamber-Corta, who had an exhibition of puppets, that hemade play a kind of comedy. We went once to see them, but could notspare time to go again, being busily employed in making puppets of ourown and inventing comedies, which we immediately set about making themperform, mimicking to the best of our abilities the uncouth voice ofPunch; and, to complete the business, my good aunt and uncle Bernard hadthe patience to see and listen to our imitations; but my uncle, havingone day read an elaborate discourse to his family, we instantly gave upour comedies, and began composing sermons. 

These details, I confess, are not very amusing, but they serve todemonstrate that the former part of our education was well directed, since being, at such an early age, the absolute masters of our time, we found no inclination to abuse it; and so little in want of othercompanions, that we constantly neglected every occasion of seeking them. When taking our walks together, we observed their diversions withoutfeeling any inclination to partake of them. Friendship so entirelyoccupied our hearts, that, pleased with each other's company the simplestpastimes were sufficient to delight us. 

We were soon remarked for being thus inseparable: and what rendered usmore conspicuous, my cousin was very tall, myself extremely short, sothat we exhibited a very whimsical contrast. This meagre figure, small, sallow countenance, heavy air, and supine gait, excited the ridicule ofthe children, who, in the gibberish of the country, nicknamed him 'BarnaBredanna'; and we no sooner got out of doors than our ears were assailedwith a repetition of "Barna Bredanna. " He bore this indignity withtolerable patience, but I was instantly for fighting. This was what theyoung rogues aimed at. I engaged accordingly, and was beat. My poorcousin did all in his power to assist me, but he was weak, and a singlestroke brought him to the ground. I then became furious, and receivedseveral smart blows, some of which were aimed at 'Barna Bredanna'. Thisquarrel so far increased the evil, that, to avoid their insults, we couldonly show ourselves in the streets while they were employed at school. 

I had already become a redresser of grievances; there only wanted a ladyin the way to be a knight-errant in form. This defect was soon supplied;I presently had two. I frequently went to see my father at Nion, a smallcity in the Vaudois country, where he was now settled. Being universallyrespected, the affection entertained for him extended to me: and, duringmy visits, the question seemed to be, who should show me most kindness. A Madame de Vulson, in particular, loaded me with caresses; and, tocomplete all, her daughter made me her gallant. I need not explain whatkind of gallant a boy of eleven must be to a girl of two and twenty; theartful hussies know how to set these puppets up in front, to conceal moreserious engagements. On my part I saw no inequality between myself andMiss Vulson, was flattered by the circumstance, and went into it with mywhole heart, or rather my whole head, for this passion certainly reachedno further, though it transported me almost to madness, and frequentlyproduced scenes sufficient to make even a cynic expire with laughter. 

I have experienced two kinds of love, equally real, which have scarce anyaffinity, yet each differing materially from tender friendship. My wholelife has been divided between these affections, and I have frequentlyfelt the power of both at the same instant. For example, at the verytime I so publically and tyrannically claimed Miss Vulson, that I couldnot suffer any other of my sex to approach her, I had short, butpassionate, assignations with a Miss Goton, who thought proper to act theschoolmistress with me. Our meetings, though absolutely childish, afforded me the height of happiness. I felt the whole charm of mystery, and repaid Miss Vulson in kind, when she least expected it, the use shemade of me in concealing her amours. To my great mortification, thissecret was soon discovered, and I presently lost my young schoolmistress. 

Miss Goton was, in fact, a singular personage. She was not handsome, yet there was a certain something in her figure which could not easilybe forgotten, and this for an old fool, I am too often convinced of. Her eyes, in particular, neither corresponded with her age, her height, nor her manner; she had a lofty imposing air, which agreed extremely wellwith the character she assumed, but the most extraordinary part of hercomposition was a mixture of forwardness and reserve difficult to beconceived; and while she took the greatest liberties with me, would neverpermit any to be taken with her in return, treating me precisely like achild. This makes me suppose she had either ceased herself to be one, or was yet sufficiently so to behold us play the danger to which thisfolly exposed her. 

I was so absolutely in the power of both these mistresses, that when inthe presence of either, I never thought of her who was absent; in otherrespects, the effects they produced on me bore no affinity. I could havepassed my whole life with Miss Vulson, without forming a wish to quither; but then, my satisfaction was attended with a pleasing serenity;and, in numerous companies, I was particularly charmed with her. Thesprightly sallies of her wit, the arch glance of her eye, even jealousyitself, strengthened my attachment, and I triumphed in the preference sheseemed to bestow on me, while addressed by more powerful rivals;applause, encouragement, and smiles, gave animation to my happiness. Surrounded by a throng of observers, I felt the whole force of love--Iwas passionate, transported; in a tete-a-tete, I should have beenconstrained, thoughtful, perhaps unhappy. If Miss Vulson was ill, Isuffered with her; would willingly have given up my own health toestablish hers (and, observe I knew the want of it from experience); ifabsent, she employed my thoughts, I felt the want of her; when present, her caresses came with warmth and rapture to my heart, though my senseswere unaffected. The familiarities she bestowed on me I could not havesupported the idea of her granting to another; I loved her with abrother's affection only, but experienced all the jealousy of a lover. 

With Miss Goton this passion might have acquired a degree of fury; Ishould have been a Turk, a tiger, had I once imagined she bestowed herfavors on any but myself. The pleasure I felt on approaching Miss Vulsonwas sufficiently ardent, though unattended with uneasy sensations; but atsight of Miss Goton, I felt myself bewildered--every sense was absorbedin ecstasy. I believe it would have been impossible to have remainedlong with her; I must have been suffocated with the violence of mypalpitations. I equally dreaded giving either of them displeasure; withone I was more complaisant; with the other, more submissive. I would nothave offended Miss Vulson for the world; but if Miss Goton had commandedme to throw myself into the flames, I think I should have instantlyobeyed her. Happily, both for her and myself, our amours; or ratherrendezvous, were not of long duration: and though my connection with MissVulson was less dangerous, after a continuance of some greater length, that likewise had its catastrophe; indeed the termination of a loveaffair is good for nothing, unless it partakes of the romantic, and canfurnish out at least an exclamation. 

Though my correspondence with Miss Vulson was less animated, it wasperhaps more endearing; we never separated without tears, and it canhardly be conceived what a void I felt in my heart. I could neitherthink nor speak of anything but her. These romantic sorrows were notaffected, though I am inclined to believe they did not absolutely centrein her, for I am persuaded (though I did not perceive it at that time)being deprived of amusement bore a considerable share in them. 

To soften the rigor of absence, we agreed to correspond with each other, and the pathetic expressions these letters contained were sufficient tohave split a rock. In a word, I had the honor of her not being able toendure the pain of separation. She came to see me at Geneva. 

My head was now completely turned; and during the two days she remainedhere, I was intoxicated with delight. At her departure, I would havethrown myself into the water after her, and absolutely rent the air withmy cries. The week following she sent me sweetmeats, gloves, etc. Thiscertainly would have appeared extremely gallant, had I not been informedof her marriage at the same instant, and that the journey I had thoughtproper to give myself the honor of, was only to buy her wedding suit. 

My indignation may easily be conceived; I shall not attempt to describeit. In this heroic fury, I swore never more to see the perfidious girl, supposing it the greatest punishment that could be inflicted on her. This, however, did not occasion her death, for twenty years after, whileon a visit to my father, being on the lake, I asked who those ladies werein a boat not far from ours. "What!" said my father smiling, "does notyour heart inform you? It is your former flame, it is Madame Christin, or, if you please, Miss Vulson. " I started at the almost forgotten name, and instantly ordered the waterman to turn off, not judging it worthwhile to be perjured, however favorable the opportunity for revenge, inrenewing a dispute of twenty years past, with a woman of forty. 

Thus, before my future destination was determined, did I fool away themost precious moments of my youth. After deliberating a long time on thebent of my natural inclination, they resolved to dispose of me in amanner the most repugnant to them. I was sent to Mr. Masseron, the CityRegister, to learn (according to the expression of my uncle Bernard) thethriving occupation of a scraper. This nickname was inconceivablydispleasing to me, and I promised myself but little satisfaction in theprospect of heaping up money by a mean employment. The assiduity andsubjection required, completed my disgust, and I never set foot in theoffice without feeling a kind of horror, which every day gained freshstrength. 

Mr. Masseron, who was not better pleased with my abilities than I waswith the employment, treated me with disdain, incessantly upbraiding mewith being a fool and blockhead, not forgetting to repeat, that my unclehad assured him I was a knowing one, though he could not find that I knewanything. That he had promised to furnish him with a sprightly boy, buthad, in truth, sent him an ass. To conclude, I was turned out of theregistry, with the additional ignominy of being pronounced a fool by allMr. Masseron's clerks, and fit only to handle a file. 

My vocation thus determined, I was bound apprentice; not, however, to awatchmaker, but to an engraver, and I had been so completely humiliatedby the contempt of the register, that I submitted without a murmur. Mymaster, whose name was M. Ducommon, was a young man of a very violent andboorish character, who contrived in a short time to tarnish all theamiable qualities of my childhood, to stupefy a disposition naturallysprightly, and reduce my feelings, as well as my condition, to anabsolute state of servitude. I forgot my Latin, history, andantiquities; I could hardly recollect whether such people as Romans everexisted. When I visited my father, he no longer beheld his idol, norcould the ladies recognize the gallant Jean Jacques; nay, I was so wellconvinced that Mr. And Miss Lambercier would scarce receive me as theirpupil, that I endeavored to avoid their company, and from that time havenever seen them. The vilest inclinations, the basest actions, succeededmy amiable amusements and even obliterated the very remembrance of them. I must have had, in spite of my good education, a great propensity todegenerate, else the declension could not have followed with such easeand rapidity, for never did so promising a Caesar so quickly become aLaradon. 

The art itself did not displease me. I had a lively taste for drawing. There was nothing displeasing in the exercise of the graver; and as itrequired no very extraordinary abilities to attain perfection as awatchcase engraver, I hoped to arrive at it. Perhaps I should haveaccomplished my design, if unreasonable restraint, added to the brutalityof my master, had not rendered my business disgusting. I wasted histime, and employed myself in engraving medals, which served me and mycompanions as a kind of insignia for a new invented order of chivalry, and though this differed very little from my usual employ, I consideredit as a relaxation. Unfortunately, my master caught me at thiscontraband labor, and a severe beating was the consequence. Hereproached me at the same time with attempting to make counterfeit moneybecause our medals bore the arms of the Republic, though, I can trulyaver, I had no conception of false money, and very little of the true, knowing better how to make a Roman As than one of our threepenny pieces. 

My master's tyranny rendered insupportable that labor I should otherwisehave loved, and drove me to vices I naturally despised, such asfalsehood, idleness, and theft. Nothing ever gave me a clearerdemonstration of the difference between filial dependence and abjectslavery, than the remembrance of the change produced in me at thatperiod. Hitherto I had enjoyed a reasonable liberty; this I had suddenlylost. I was enterprising at my father's, free at Mr. Lambercier's, discreet at my uncle's; but, with my master, I became fearful, and fromthat moment my mind was vitiated. Accustomed to live on terms of perfectequality, to be witness of no pleasures I could not command, to see nodish I was not to partake of, or be sensible of a desire I might notexpress; to be able to bring every wish of my heart to my lips--what atransition!--at my master's I was scarce allowed to speak, was forced toquit the table without tasting what I most longed for, and the room whenI had nothing particular to do there; was incessantly confined to mywork, while the liberty my master and his journeymen enjoyed, served onlyto increase the weight of my subjection. When disputes happened toarise, though conscious that I understood the subject better than any ofthem, I dared not offer my opinion; in a word, everything I saw became anobject of desire, for no other reason than because I was not permitted toenjoy anything. Farewell gayety, ease, those happy turns of expressions, which formerly even made my faults escape correction. I recollect, withpleasure, a circumstance that happened at my father's, which even nowmakes me smile. Being for some fault ordered to bed without my supper, as I was passing through the kitchen, with my poor morsel of bread in myhand, I saw the meat turning on the spit; my father and the rest wereround the fire; I must bow to every one as I passed. When I had gonethrough this ceremony, leering with a wistful eye at the roast meat, which looked so inviting, and smelt so savory, I could not abstain frommaking that a bow likewise, adding in a pitiful tone, good bye, roastmeal! This unpremeditated pleasantry put them in such good humor, that Iwas permitted to stay, and partake of it. Perhaps the same thing mighthave produced a similar effect at my master's, but such a thought couldnever have occurred to me, or, if it had, I should not have had courageto express it. 

Thus I learned to covet, dissemble, lie, and, at length, to steal, apropensity I never felt the least idea of before, though since that timeI have never been able entirely to divest myself of it. Desire andinability united naturally led to this vice, which is the reasonpilfering is so common among footmen and apprentices, though the latter, as they grow up, and find themselves in a situation where everything isat their command, lose this shameful propensity. As I never experiencedthe advantage, I never enjoyed the benefit. 

Good sentiments, ill-directed, frequently lead children into vice. Notwithstanding my continual wants and temptations, it was more than ayear before I could resolve to take even eatables. My first theft wasoccasioned by complaisance, but it was productive of others which had notso plausible an excuse. 

My master had a journeyman named Verrat, whose mother lived in theneighborhood, and had a garden at a considerable distance from the house, which produced excellent asparagus. This Verrat, who had no great plentyof money, took it in his head to rob her of the most early production ofher garden, and by the sale of it procure those indulgences he could nototherwise afford himself; but not being very nimble, he did not care torun the hazard of a surprise. After some preliminary flattery, which Idid not comprehend the meaning of, he proposed this expedition to me, asan idea which had that moment struck him. At first I would not listen tothe proposal; but he persisted in his solicitation, and as I could neverresist the attacks of flattery, at length prevailed. In pursuance ofthis virtuous resolution, I every morning repaired to the garden, gathered the best of the asparagus, and took it to the Holard where somegood old women, who guessed how I came by it, wishing to diminish theprice, made no secret of their suspicions; this produced the desiredeffect, for, being alarmed, I took whatever they offered, which beingtaken to Mr. Verrat, was presently metamorphosed into a breakfast, anddivided with a companion of his; for, though I procured it, I neverpartook of their good cheer, being fully satisfied with an inconsiderablebribe. 

I executed my roguery with the greatest fidelity, seeking only to pleasemy employer; and several days passed before it came into my head, to robthe robber, and tithe Mr. Verrat's harvest. I never considered thehazard I run in these expeditions, not only of a torrent of abuse, butwhat I should have been still more sensible of, a hearty beating; for themiscreant, who received the whole benefit, would certainly have deniedall knowledge of the fact, and I should only have received a doubleportion of punishment for daring to accuse him, since being only anapprentice, I stood no chance of being believed in opposition to ajourneyman. Thus, in every situation, powerful rogues know how to savethemselves at the expense of the feeble. 

This practice taught me it was not so terrible to thieve as I hadimagined: I took care to make this discovery turn to some account, helping myself to everything within my reach, that I conceived aninclination for. I was not absolutely ill-fed at my master's, andtemperance was only painful to me by comparing it with the luxury heenjoyed. The custom of sending young people from table precisely whenthose things are served up which seem most tempting, is calculated toincrease their longing, and induces them to steal what they conceive tobe so delicious. It may be supposed I was not backward in thisparticular: in general my knavery succeeded pretty well, though quite thereverse when I happened to be detected. 

I recollect an attempt to procure some apples, which was attended withcircumstances that make me smile and shudder even at this instant. Thefruit was standing in the pantry, which by a lattice at a considerableheight received light from the kitchen. One day, being alone in thehouse, I climbed up to see these precious apples, which being out of myreach, made this pantry appear the garden of Hesperides. I fetched thespit--tried if it would reach them--it was too short--I lengthened itwith a small one which was used for game, --my master being very fond ofhunting, darted at them several times without success; at length was morefortunate; being transported to find I was bringing up an apple, I drewit gently to the lattice--was going to seize it when (who can express mygrief and astonishment!) I found it would not pass through--it was toolarge. I tried every expedient to accomplish my design, soughtsupporters to keep the spits in the same position, a knife to divide theapple, and a lath to hold it with; at length, I so far succeeded as toeffect the division, and made no doubt of drawing the pieces through; butit was scarcely separated, (compassionate reader, sympathize with myaffliction) when both pieces fell into the pantry. 

Though I lost time by this experiment, I did not lose courage, but, dreading a surprise, I put off the attempt till next day, when I hoped tobe more successful, and returned to my work as if nothing had happened, without once thinking of what the two obvious witnesses I had left in thepantry deposed against me. 

The next day (a fine opportunity offering) I renew the trial. I fastenthe spits together; get on the stool; take aim; am just going to dart atmy prey--unfortunately the dragon did not sleep; the pantry door opens, my master makes his appearance, and, looking up, exclaims, "Bravo!"--The horror of that moment returns--the pen drops from my hand. 

A continual repetition of ill treatment rendered me callous; it seemed akind of composition for my crimes, which authorized me to continue them, and, instead of looking back at the punishment, I looked forward torevenge. Being beat like a slave, I judged I had a right to all thevices of one. I was convinced that to rob and be punished wereinseparable, and constituted, if I may so express myself, a kind oftraffic, in which, if I perform my part of the bargain, my master wouldtake care not to be deficient in his; that preliminary settled, I appliedmyself to thieving with great tranquility, and whenever thisinterrogatory occurred to my mind, "What will be the consequence?" thereply was ready, "I know the worst, I shall be beat; no matter, I wasmade for it. "

I love good eating; am sensual, but not greedy; I have such a variety ofinclinations to gratify, that this can never predominate; and unless myheart is unoccupied, which very rarely happens, I pay but littleattention to my appetite; to purloining eatables, but extended thispropensity to everything I wished to possess, and if I did not become arobber in form, it was only because money never tempted me. 

My master had a closet in the workshop, which he kept locked; this Icontrived to open and shut as often as I pleased, and laid his besttools, fine drawings, impressions, in a word, everything he wished tokeep from me, under contribution. 

These thefts were so far innocent, that they were always employed in hisservice, but I was transported at having the trifles in my possession, and imagined I stole the art with its productions. Besides what I havementioned, his boxes contained threads of gold and silver, a number ofsmall jewels, valuable medals, and money; yet, though I seldom had fivesous in my pocket, I do not recollect ever having cast a wishful look atthem; on the contrary, I beheld these valuables rather with terror thanwith delight. 

I am convinced the dread of taking money was, in a great measure, theeffect of education. There was mingled with the idea of it the fear ofinfamy, a prison, punishment, and death: had I even felt the temptation, these objects would have made me tremble; whereas my failings appeared aspecies of waggery, and, in truth, they were little else; they could butoccasion a good trimming, and this I was already prepared for. A sheetof fine drawing paper was a greater temptation than money sufficient tohave purchased a ream. This unreasonable caprice is connected with oneof the most striking singularities of my character, and has so farinfluenced my conduct, that it requires a particular explanation. 

My passions are extremely violent; while under their influence, nothingcan equal my impetuosity; I am an absolute stranger to discretion, respect, fear, or decorum; rude, saucy, violent, and intrepid: no shamecan stop, no danger intimidate me. My mind is frequently so engrossed bya single object, that beyond it the whole world is not worth a thought;this is the enthusiasm of a moment, the next, perhaps, I am plunged in astate of annihilation. Take me in my moments of tranquility, I amindolence and timidity itself; a word to speak, the least trifle toperform, appear an intolerable labor; everything alarms and terrifies me;the very buzzing of a fly will make me shudder; I am so subdued by fearand shame, that I would gladly shield myself from mortal view. 

When obliged to exert myself, I am ignorant what to do! when forced tospeak, I am at a loss for words; and if any one looks at me, I aminstantly out of countenance. If animated with my subject, I express mythoughts with ease, but, in ordinary conversations, I can say nothing--absolutely nothing; and, being obliged to speak, renders theminsupportable. 

I may add, that none of my predominant inclinations centre in thosepleasures which are to be purchased: money empoisons my delight; I musthave them unadulterated; I love those of the table, for instance, butcannot endure the restraints of good company, or the intemperance oftaverns; I can enjoy them only with a friend, for alone it is equallyimpossible; my imagination is then so occupied with other things, that Ifind no pleasure in eating. Women who are to be purchased have no charmsfor me; my beating heart cannot be satisfied without affection; it is thesame with every other enjoyment, if not truly disinterested, they areabsolutely insipid; in a word, I am fond of those things which are onlyestimable to minds formed for the peculiar enjoyment of them. 

I never thought money so desirable as it is usually imagined; if youwould enjoy you must transform it; and this transformation is frequentlyattended with inconvenience; you must bargain, purchase, pay dear, bebadly served, and often duped. I buy an egg, am assured it is new-laid--I find it stale; fruit in its utmost perfection--'tis absolutely green. I love good wine, but where shall I get it? Not at my wine merchant's--he will poison me to a certainty. I wish to be universally respected;how shall I compass my design? I must make friends, send messages, writeletters, come, go, wait, and be frequently deceived. Money is theperpetual source of uneasiness; I fear it more than I love good wine. 

A thousand times, both during and since my apprenticeship, have I goneout to purchase some nicety, I approach the pastry-cook's, perceive somewomen at the counter, and imagine they are laughing at me. I pass afruit shop, see some fine pears, their appearance tempts me; but then twoor three young people are near, or a man I am acquainted with is standingat the door; I take all that pass for persons I have some knowledge of, and my near sight contributes to deceive me. I am everywhereintimidated, restrained by some obstacle, and with money in my pocketreturn as I went, for want of resolution to purchase what I long for. 

I should enter into the most insipid details was I to relate the trouble, shame, repugnance, and inconvenience of all kinds which I haveexperienced in parting with my money, whether in my own person, or by theagency of others; as I proceed, the reader will get acquainted with mydisposition, and perceive all this without my troubling him with therecital. 

This once comprehended, one of my apparent contradictions will be easilyaccounted for, and the most sordid avarice reconciled with the greatestcontempt of money. It is a movable which I consider of so little value, that, when destitute of it, I never wish to acquire any; and when I havea sum I keep it by me, for want of knowing how to dispose of it to mysatisfaction; but let an agreeable and convenient opportunity presentitself, and I empty my purse with the utmost freedom; not that I wouldhave the reader imagine I am extravagant from a motive of ostentation, quite the reverse; it was ever in subservience to my pleasures, and, instead of glorying in expense, I endeavor to conceal it. I so wellperceive that money is not made to answer my purposes, that I am almostashamed to have any, and, still more, to make use of it. 

Had I ever possessed a moderate independence, I am convinced I shouldhave had no propensity to become avaricious. I should have required nomore, and cheerfully lived up to my income; but my precarious situationhas constantly and necessarily kept me in fear. I love liberty, and Iloathe constraint, dependence, and all their kindred annoyances. As longas my purse contains money it secures my independence, and exempts mefrom the trouble of seeking other money, a trouble of which I have alwayshad a perfect horror; and the dread of seeing the end of my independence, makes me proportionately unwilling to part with my money. The money thatwe possess is the instrument of liberty, that which we lack and strive toobtain is the instrument of slavery. Thence it is that I hold fast toaught that I have, and yet covet nothing more. 

My disinterestedness, then, is in reality only idleness, the pleasure ofpossessing is not in my estimation worth the trouble of acquiring: and mydissipation is only another form of idleness; when we have an opportunityof disbursing pleasantly we should make the best possible use of it. 

I am less tempted by money than by other objects, because between themoment of possessing the money and that of using it to obtain the desiredobject there is always an interval, however short; whereas to possess thething is to enjoy it. I see a thing and it tempts me; but if I see notthe thing itself but only the means of acquiring it, I am not tempted. Therefore it is that I have been a pilferer, and am so even now, in theway of mere trifles to which I take a fancy, and which I find it easierto take than to ask for; but I never in my life recollect having taken afarthing from any one, except about fifteen years ago, when I stole sevenfrancs and ten sous. The story is worth recounting, as it exhibits aconcurrence of ignorance and stupidity I should scarcely credit, did itrelate to any but myself. 

It was in Paris: I was walking with M. De Franceul at the Palais Royal;he pulled out his watch, he looked at it, and said to me, "Suppose we goto the opera?"--"With all my heart. " We go: he takes two box tickets, gives me one, and enters himself with the other; I follow, find the doorcrowded; and, looking in, see every one standing; judging, therefore, that M. De Franceul might suppose me concealed by the company, I go out, ask for my ticket, and, getting the money returned, leave the house, without considering, that by then I had reached the door every one wouldbe seated, and M. De Franceul might readily perceive I was not there. 

As nothing could be more opposite to my natural inclination than thisabominable meanness, I note it, to show there are moments of deliriumwhen men ought not to be judged by their actions: this was not stealingthe money, it was only stealing the use of it, and was the more infamousfor wanting the excuse of a temptation. 

I should never end these accounts, was I to describe all the gradationsthrough which I passed, during my apprenticeship, from the sublimity of ahero to the baseness of a villain. Though I entered into most of thevices of my situation, I had no relish for its pleasures; the amusementsof my companions were displeasing, and when too much restraint had mademy business wearisome, I had nothing to amuse me. This renewed my tastefor reading which had long been neglected. I thus committed a freshoffence, books made me neglect my work, and brought on additionalpunishment, while inclination, strengthened by constraint, became anunconquerable passion. La Tribu, a well-known librarian, furnished mewith all kinds; good or bad, I perused them with avidity, and withoutdiscrimination. 

It will be said; "at length, then, money became necessary"--true; butthis happened at a time when a taste for study had deprived me both ofresolution and activity; totally occupied by this new inclination, I onlywished to read, I robbed no longer. This is another of my peculiarities;a mere nothing frequently calls me off from what I appear the mostattached to; I give in to the new idea; it becomes a passion, andimmediately every former desire is forgotten. 

Reading was my new hobby; my heart beat with impatience to run over thenew book I carried in my pocket; the first moment I was alone, I seizedthe opportunity to draw it out, and thought no longer of rummaging mymaster's closet. I was even ashamed to think that I had been guilty ofsuch meanness; and had my amusements been more expensive, I no longerfelt an inclination to continue it. La Tribu gave me credit, and whenonce I had the book in my possession, I thought no more of the trifle Iwas to pay for it; as money came it naturally passed to this woman; andwhen she chanced to be pressing, nothing was so conveniently at hand asmy own effects; to steal in advance required foresight, and robbing topay was no temptation. 

The frequent blows I received from my master, with my private andill-chosen studies, rendered me reserved, unsociable, and almostderanged my reason. Though my taste had not preserved me from sillyunmeaning books, by good fortune I was a stranger to licentious orobscene ones; not that La Tribu (who was very accommodating) had anyscruple of lending these, on the contrary, to enhance their worth shespoke of them with an air of mystery; this produced an effect she hadnot foreseen, for both shame and disgust made me constantly refuse them. Chance so well seconded my bashful disposition, that I was past the ageof thirty before I saw any of those dangerous compositions. 

In less than a year I had exhausted La Tribu's scanty library, and wasunhappy for want of further amusement. My reading, though frequentlybad, had worn off my childish follies, and brought back my heart tonobler sentiments than my condition had inspired; meantime disgusted withall within my reach, and thinking everything charming that was out of it, my present situation appeared extremely miserable. My passions began toacquire strength, I felt their influence, without knowing whither theywould conduct me. I sometimes, indeed, thought of my former follies, butsought no further. 

At this time my imagination took a turn which helped to calm myincreasing emotions; it was, to contemplate those situations in the booksI had read, which produced the most striking effect on my mind; torecall, combine, and apply them to myself in such a manner, as to becomeone of the personages my recollection presented, and be continually inthose fancied circumstances which were most agreeable to my inclinations;in a word, by contriving to place myself in these fictitious situations, the idea of my real one was in a great measure obliterated. 

This fondness for imaginary objects, and the facility with which I couldgain possession of them, completed my disgust for everything around me, and fixed that inclination for solitude which has ever since beenpredominant. We shall have more than once occasion to remark the effectsof a disposition, misanthropic and melancholy in appearance, but whichproceed, in fact, from a heart too affectionate, too ardent, which, forwant of similar dispositions, is constrained to content itself withnonentities, and be satisfied with fiction. It is sufficient, atpresent, to have traced the origin of a propensity which has modified mypassions, set bounds to each, and by giving too much ardor to my wishes, has ever rendered me too indolent to obtain them. 

Thus I attained my sixteenth year, uneasy, discontented with myself andeverything that surrounded me; displeased with my occupation; withoutenjoying the pleasures common to my age, weeping without a cause, sighingI knew not why, and fond of my chimerical ideas for want of more valuablerealities. 

Every Sunday, after sermon-time, my companions came to fetch me out, wishing me to partake of their diversions. I would willingly have beenexcused, but when once engaged in amusement, I was more animated andenterprising than any of them; it was equally difficult to engage orrestrain me; indeed, this was ever a leading trait in my character. In our country walks I was ever foremost, and never thought of returningtill reminded by some of my companions. I was twice obliged to be frommy master's the whole night, the city gates having been shut before Icould reach them. The reader may imagine what treatment this procured methe following mornings; but I was promised such a reception for thethird, that I made a firm resolution never to expose myself to the dangerof it. Notwithstanding my determination, I repeated this dreadedtransgression, my vigilance having been rendered useless by a cursedcaptain, named M. Minutoli, who, when on guard, always shut the gate hehad charge of an hour before the usual time. I was returning home withmy two companions, and had got within half a league of the city, when Iheard them beat the tattoo; I redouble my pace, I run with my utmostspeed, I approach the bridge, see the soldiers already at their posts, Icall out to them in a suffocated voice--it is too late; I am twenty pacesfrom the guard, the first bridge is already drawn up, and I tremble tosee those terrible horns advanced in the air which announce the fatal andinevitable destiny, which from this moment began to pursue me. 

I threw myself on the glacis in a transport of despair, while mycompanions, who only laughed at the accident, immediately determined whatto do. My resolution, though different from theirs, was equally sudden;on the spot, I swore never to return to my master's, and the nextmorning, when my companions entered the city, I bade them an eternaladieu, conjuring them at the same time to inform my cousin Bernard of myresolution, and the place where he might see me for the last time. 

From the commencement of my apprenticeship I had seldom seen him; atfirst, indeed, we saw each other on Sundays, but each acquiring differenthabits, our meetings were less frequent. I am persuaded his mothercontributed greatly towards this change; he was to consider himself as aperson of consequence, I was a pitiful apprentice; notwithstanding ourrelationship, equality no longer subsisted between us, and it wasdegrading himself to frequent my company. As he had a natural good hearthis mother's lessons did not take an immediate effect, and for some timehe continued to visit me. 

Having learned my resolution, he hastened to the spot I had appointed, not, however, to dissuade me from it, but to render my flight agreeable, by some trifling presents, as my own resources would not have carried mefar. He gave me among other things, a small sword, which I was veryproud of, and took with me as far as Turin, where absolute wantconstrained me to dispose of it. The more I reflect on his behavior atthis critical moment, the more I am persuaded he followed theinstructions of his mother, and perhaps his father likewise: for, had hebeen left to his own feelings, he would have endeavored to retain, orhave been tempted to accompany me; on the contrary, he encouraged thedesign, and when he saw me resolutely determined to pursue it, withoutseeming much affected, left me to my fate. We never saw or wrote to eachother from that time; I cannot but regret this loss, for his heart wasessentially good, and we seemed formed for a more lasting friendship. 

Before I abandon myself to the fatality of my destiny, let me contemplatefor a moment the prospect that awaited me had I fallen into the hands ofa better master. Nothing could have been more agreeable to mydisposition, or more likely to confer happiness, than the peacefulcondition of a good artificer, in so respectable a line as engravers areconsidered at Geneva. I could have obtained an easy subsistence, if nota fortune; this would have bounded my ambition; I should have had meansto indulge in moderate pleasures, and should have continued in my naturalsphere, without meeting with any temptation to go beyond it. Having animagination sufficiently fertile to embellish with its chimeras everysituation, and powerful enough to transport me from one to another, itwas immaterial in which I was fixed: that was best adapted to me, which, requiring the least care or exertion, left the mind most at liberty; andthis happiness I should have enjoyed. In my native country, in the bosomof my religion, family and friends, I should have passed a calm andpeaceful life, in the uniformity of a pleasing occupation, and amongconnections dear to my heart. I should have been a good Christian, agood citizen, a good friend, a good man. I should have relished mycondition, perhaps have been an honor to it, and after having passed alife of happy obscurity, surrounded by my family, I should have died atpeace. Soon it may be forgotten, but while remembered it would have beenwith tenderness and regret. 

Instead of this--what a picture am I about to draw!--Alas! why should Ianticipate the miseries I have endured? The reader will have but toomuch of the melancholy subject.