Produced by David Widger
THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
(In 12 books)
Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society
London, 1903
Hoc erat in votis: Modus agri non ila magnus
Hortus ubi, et leclo vicinus aqua fons;
Et paululum sylvae superhis forel.
I cannot add, 'auctius acque di melius fecere'; but no matter, the formeris enough for my purpose; I had no occasion to have any property there,it was sufficient that I enjoyed it; for I have long since both said andfelt, that the proprietor and possessor are two very different people,even leaving husbands and lovers out of the question.
At this moment began the short happiness of my life, those peaceful andrapid moments, which have given me a right to say, I have lived.Precious and ever—regretted moments! Ah! recommence your delightfulcourse; pass more slowly through my memory, if possible, than youactually did in your fugitive succession. How shall I prolong, accordingto my inclination, this recital at once so pleasing and simple? Howshall I continue to relate the same occurrences, without wearying myreaders with the repetition, any more than I was satiated with theenjoyment? Again, if all this consisted of facts, actions, or words, Icould somehow or other convey an idea of it; but how shall I describewhat was neither said nor done, nor even thought, but enjoyed, felt,without being able to particularize any other object of my happiness thanthe bare idea? I rose with the sun, and was happy; I walked, and washappy; I saw Madam de Warrens, and was happy; I quitted her, and stillwas happy!—Whether I rambled through the woods, over the hills, orstrolled along the valley; read, was idle, worked in the garden, orgathered fruits, happiness continually accompanied me; it was fixed on noparticular object, it was within me, nor could I depart from it a singlemoment.
Nothing that passed during that charming epocha, nothing that I did,said, or thought, has escaped my memory. The time that preceded orfollowed it, I only recollect by intervals, unequally and confused; buthere I remember all as distinctly as if it existed at this moment.Imagination, which in my youth was perpetually anticipating the future,but now takes a retrograde course, makes some amends by these charmingrecollections for the deprivation of hope, which I have lost forever.I no longer see anything in the future that can tempt my wishes, it is arecollection of the past alone that can flatter me, and the remembranceof the period I am now describing is so true and lively, that itsometimes makes me happy, even in spite of my misfortunes.
Of these recollections I shall relate one example, which may give someidea of their force and precision. The first day we went to sleep atCharmettes, the way being up-hill, and Madam de Warrens rather heavy, shewas carried in a chair, while I followed on foot. Fearing the chairmenwould be fatigued, she got out about half-way, designing to walk the restof it. As we passed along, she saw something blue in the hedge, andsaid, "There's some periwinkle in flower yet!" I had never seen anybefore, nor did I stop to examine this: my sight is too short todistinguish plants on the ground, and I only cast a look at this as Ipassed: an interval of near thirty years had elapsed before I saw anymore periwinkle, at least before I observed it, when being at Cressier in1764, with my friend, M. du Peyrou, we went up a small mountain, on thesummit of which there is a level spot, called, with reason, '