The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — CompleteRousseau, Jean-Jacques
Philosophy
The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Complete
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques
Authors, French -- 18th century -- Biography; Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 1712-1778
In relating so many trifling details, which delight me, but frequently
tire my reader, I make use of the caution to suppress a great number,
though, perhaps, he would have no idea of this, if I did not take care
to inform him of it: for example, I recollect with pleasure all the
different methods I adopted for the distribution of my time, in such a
manner as to produce the utmost profit and pleasure. I may say, that
the portion of my life which I passed in this retirement, though in
continual ill-health, was that in which I was least idle and least
wearied. Two or three months were thus employed in discovering the bent
of my genius; meantime, I enjoyed, in the finest season of the year, and
in a spot it rendered delightful, the charms of a life whose worth I was
so highly sensible of, in such a society, as free as it was charming; if
a union so perfect, and the extensive knowledge I purposed to acquire,
can be called society. It seemed to me as if I already possessed the
improvements I was only in pursuit of: or rather better, since the
pleasure of learning constituted a great part of my happiness.
I must pass over these particulars, which were to me the height of
enjoyment, but are too trivial to bear repeating: indeed, true happiness
is indescribable, it is only to be felt, and this consciousness of
felicity is proportionately more, the less able we are to describe it;
because it does not absolutely result from a concourse of favorable
incidents, but is an affection of the mind itself. I am frequently
guilty of repetitions, but should be infinitely more so, did I repeat
the same thing as often as it recurs with pleasure to my mind. When at
length my variable mode of life was reduced to a more uniform course,
the following was nearly the distribution of time which I adopted: I
rose every morning before the sun, and passed through a neighboring
orchard into a pleasant path, which, running by a vineyard, led towards
Chambery. While walking, I offered up my prayers, not by a vain motion
of the lips, but a sincere elevation of my heart, to the Great Author of
delightful nature, whose beauties were so charmingly spread out before
me! I never love to pray in a chamber; it seems to me that the walls and
all the little workmanship of man interposed between God and myself: I
love to contemplate Him in his works, which elevate my soul, and raise
my thoughts to Him. My prayers were pure, I can affirm it, and therefore
worthy to be heard:--I asked for myself and her from whom my thoughts
were never divided, only an innocent and quiet life, exempt from vice,
sorrow and want; I prayed that we might die the death of the just, and
partake of their lot hereafter: for the rest, it was rather admiration
and contemplation than request, being satisfied that the best means to
obtain what is necessary from the Giver of every perfect good, is rather
to deserve than to solicit. Returning from my walk, I lengthened the way
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