The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Complete
Jean-Jacques Rousseau · en
The apprehensions she was under of my not finding in her that for which
I sought, retarded my happiness more than every other circumstance. I
perceived her disconcerted and confused before she yielded her consent,
wishing to be understood and not daring to explain herself. Far from
suspecting the real cause of her embarrassment, I falsely imagined it
to proceed from another motive, a supposition highly insulting to
her morals, and thinking she gave me to understand my health might be
exposed to danger, I fell into so perplexed a state that, although it
was no restraint upon me, it poisoned my happiness during several days.
As we did not understand each other, our conversations upon this subject
were so many enigmas more than ridiculous. She was upon the point of
believing I was absolutely mad; and I on my part was as near not knowing
what else to think of her. At last we came to an explanation; she
confessed to me with tears the only fault of the kind of her whole life,
immediately after she became nubile; the fruit of her ignorance and the
address of her seducer. The moment I comprehended what she meant, I gave
a shout of joy. “A Hymen!” exclaimed I; “sought for at Paris, and at
twenty years of age! Ah my Theresa! I am happy in possessing thee,
virtuous and healthy as thou art, and in not finding that for which I
never sought.”
At first amusement was my only object; I perceived I had gone further
and had given myself a companion. A little intimate connection with
this excellent girl, and a few reflections upon my situation, made me
discover that, while thinking of nothing more than my pleasures, I had
done a great deal towards my happiness. In the place of extinguished
ambition, a life of sentiment, which had entire possession of my heart,
was necessary to me. In a word, I wanted a successor to mamma: since I
was never again to live with her, it was necessary some person should
live with her pupil, and a person, too, in whom I might find that
simplicity and docility of mind and heart which she had found in me.
It was, moreover, necessary that the happiness of domestic life should
indemnify me for the splendid career I had just renounced. When I was
quite alone there was a void in my heart, which wanted nothing more than
another heart to fill it up. Fate had deprived me of this, or at least
in part alienated me from that for which by nature I was formed. From
that moment I was alone, for there never was for me the least thing
intermediate between everything and nothing. I found in Theresa the
supplement of which I stood in need; by means of her I lived as happily
as I possibly could do, according to the course of events.