The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Complete
Jean-Jacques Rousseau · en
Having left my scholars for so long a time, and lost my relish for the
amusements of the town, I seldom went out, conversing only with Madam de
Warens and a Monsieur Salomon, who had lately become our physician.
He was an honest man, of good understanding, a great Cartesian, spoke
tolerably well on the system of the world, and his agreeable and
instructive conversations were more serviceable than his prescriptions.
I could never bear that foolish trivial mode of conversation which is so
generally adopted; but useful instructive discourse has always given
me great pleasure, nor was I ever backward to join in it. I was much
pleased with that of M. Salomon; it appeared to me, that when in his
company, I anticipated the acquisition of that sublime knowledge which
my soul would enjoy when freed from its mortal fetters. The inclination
I had for him extended to the subjects which he treated on, and I began
to look after books which might better enable me to understand his
discourse. Those which mingled devotion with science were most agreeable
to me, particularly Port Royal’s Oratory, and I began to read or rather
to devour them. One fell into my hands written by Father Lami, called
‘Entretiens sur les Sciences’, which was a kind of introduction to the
knowledge of those books it treated of. I read it over a hundred times,
and resolved to make this my guide; in short, I found (notwithstanding
my ill state of health) that I was irresistibly drawn towards study,
and though looking on each day as the last of my life, read with as much
avidity as if certain I was to live forever.
I was assured that reading would injure me; but on the contrary, I am
rather inclined to think it was serviceable, not only to my soul, but
also to my body; for this application, which soon became delightful,
diverted my thoughts from my disorders, and I soon found myself much
less affected by them. It is certain, however, that nothing gave me
absolute ease, but having no longer any acute pain, I became accustomed
to languishment and wakefulness; to thinking instead of acting; in
short, I looked on the gradual and slow decay of my body as inevitably
progressive and only to be terminated by death.