The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Volume 04Rousseau, Jean-Jacques
Philosophy
The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Volume 04
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques
Authors, French -- 18th century -- Biography; Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 1712-1778
It is very singular that my imagination never rises so high as when my
situation is least agreeable or cheerful. When everything smiles around
me, I am least amused; my heart cannot confine itself to realities,
cannot embellish, but must create. Real objects strike me as they really
are, my imagination can only decorate ideal ones. If I would paint the
spring, it must be in winter; if describe a beautiful landscape, it must
be while surrounded with walls; and I have said a hundred times, that
were I confined in the Bastile, I could draw the most enchanting picture
of liberty. On my departure from Lyons, I saw nothing but an agreeable
future, the content I now with reason enjoyed was as great as my
discontent had been at leaving Paris, notwithstanding, I had not during
this journey any of those delightful reveries I then enjoyed. My mind
was serene, and that was all; I drew near the excellent friend I was
going to see, my heart overflowing with tenderness, enjoying in advance,
but without intoxication, the pleasure of living near her; I had always
expected this, and it was as if nothing new had happened. Meantime,
I was anxious about the employment Madam de Warrens had procured me,
as if that alone had been material. My ideas were calm and peaceable,
not ravishing and celestial; every object struck my sight in its natural
form; I observed the surrounding landscape, remarked the trees, the
houses, the springs, deliberated on the cross-roads, was fearful of
losing myself, yet did not do so; in a word, I was no longer in the
empyrean, but precisely where I found myself, or sometimes perhaps at
the end of my journey, never farther.
I am in recounting my travels, as I was in making them, loath to arrive
at the conclusion. My heart beat with joy as I approached my dear Madam
de Warrens, but I went no faster on that account. I love to walk at my
ease, and stop at leisure; a strolling life is necessary to me:
travelling on foot, in a fine country, with fine weather and having an
agreeable object to terminate my journey, is the manner of living of all
others most suited to my taste.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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