The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Volume 09Rousseau, Jean-Jacques
Philosophy
The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Volume 09
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques
Authors, French -- 18th century -- Biography; Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 1712-1778
What step did I take upon this occasion? My reader will already have
guessed it, if he has taken the trouble to pay the least attention to my
narrative. The impossibility of attaining real beings threw me into the
regions of chimera, and seeing nothing in existence worthy of my
delirium, I sought food for it in the ideal world, which my imagination
quickly peopled with beings after my own heart. This resource never came
more apropos, nor was it ever so fertile. In my continual ecstasy I
intoxicated my mind with the most delicious sentiments that ever entered
the heart of man. Entirely forgetting the human species, I formed to
myself societies of perfect beings, whose virtues were as celestial as
their beauty, tender and faithful friends, such as I never found here
below. I became so fond of soaring in the empyrean, in the midst of the
charming objects with which I was surrounded, that I thus passed hours
and days without perceiving it; and, losing the remembrance of all other
things, I scarcely had eaten a morsel in haste before I was impatient to
make my escape and run to regain my groves. When ready to depart for the
enchanted world, I saw arrive wretched mortals who came to detain me upon
earth, I could neither conceal nor moderate my vexation; and no longer
master of myself, I gave them so uncivil a reception, that it might
justly be termed brutal. This tended to confirm my reputation as a
misanthrope, from the very cause which, could the world have read my
heart, should have acquired me one of a nature directly opposite.
In the midst of my exultation I was pulled down like a paper kite, and
restored to my proper place by means of a smart attack of my disorder.
I recurred to the only means that had before given me relief, and thus
made a truce with my angelic amours; for besides that it seldom happens
that a man is amorous when he suffers, my imagination, which is animated
in the country and beneath the shade of trees, languishes and becomes
extinguished in a chamber, and under the joists of a ceiling. I
frequently regretted that there existed no dryads; it would certainly
have been amongst these that I should have fixed my attachment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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