Produced by David Widger
THE CONFESSIONS OF JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU
(In 12 books)
Privately Printed for the Members of the Aldus Society
London, 1903
My impatience to inhabit the Hermitage not permitting me to wait untilthe return of fine weather, the moment my lodging was prepared I hastenedto take possession of it, to the great amusement of the 'CoterieHolbachaque', which publicly predicted I should not be able to supportsolitude for three months, and that I should unsuccessfully return toParis, and live there as they did. For my part, having for fifteen yearsbeen out of my element, finding myself upon the eve of returning to it,I paid no attention to their pleasantries. Since contrary to myinclinations, I have again entered the world, I have incessantlyregretted my dear Charmettes, and the agreeable life I led there. I felta natural inclination to retirement and the country: it was impossiblefor me to live happily elsewhere. At Venice, in the train of publicaffairs, in the dignity of a kind of representation, in the pride ofprojects of advancement; at Paris, in the vortex of the great world, inthe luxury of suppers, in the brilliancy of spectacles, in the rays ofsplendor; my groves, rivulets, and solitary walks, constantly presentedthemselves to my recollection, interrupted my thought, rendered memelancholy, and made me sigh with desire. All the labor to which I hadsubjected myself, every project of ambition which by fits had animated myardor, all had for object this happy country retirement, which I nowthought near at hand. Without having acquired a genteel independence,which I had judged to be the only means of accomplishing my views, Iimagined myself, in my particular situation, to be able to do without it,and that I could obtain the same end by a means quite opposite. I had noregular income; but I possessed some talents, and had acquired a name.My wants were few, and I had freed myself from all those which were mostexpensive, and which merely depended on prejudice and opinion. Besidesthis, although naturally indolent, I was laborious when I chose to be so.and my idleness was less that of an indolent man, than that of anindependent one who applies to business when it pleases him.My profession of a copyist of music was neither splendid nor lucrative,but it was certain. The world gave me credit for the courage I had shownin making choice of it. I might depend upon having sufficient employmentto enable me to live. Two thousand livres which remained of the produceof the 'Devin du Village', and my other writings, were a sum which keptme from being straitened, and several works I had upon the stockspromised me, without extorting money from the booksellers, suppliessufficient to enable me to work at my ease without exhausting myself,even by turning to advantage the leisure of my walks. My little family,consisting of three persons, all of whom were usefully employed, was notexpensive to support. Finally, from my resources, proportioned to mywants and desires, I might reasonably expect a happy and permanentexistence, in that manner of life which my inclination had induced me toadopt.
I might have taken the interested side of the question, and, instead ofsubjecting my pen to copying, entirely devoted it to works which, fromthe elevation to which I had soared, and at which I found myself capableof continuing, might have enabled me to live in the midst of abundance,nay, even of opulence, had I been the least disposed to join themanoeuvres of an author to the care of publishing a good book. But Ifelt that writing for bread would soon have extinguished my genius, anddestroyed my