The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Complete — Jean-Jacques Rousseau — John Shaqi
The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Complete
Jean-Jacques Rousseau · en
|The moment in which fear had instigated my flight, did not seem more
terrible than that wherein I put my design in execution appeared
delightful. To leave my relations, my resources, while yet a child,
in the midst of my apprenticeship, before I had learned enough of
my business to obtain a subsistence; to run on inevitable misery and
danger: to expose myself in that age of weakness and innocence to all
the temptations of vice and despair; to set out in search of errors,
misfortunes, snares, slavery, and death; to endure more intolerable
evils than those I meant to shun, was the picture I should have drawn,
the natural consequence of my hazardous enterprise. How different was
the idea I entertained of it!--The independence I seemed to possess
was the sole object of my contemplation; having obtained my liberty,
I thought everything attainable: I entered with confidence on the vast
theatre of the world, which my merit was to captivate: at every step I
expected to find amusements, treasures, and adventures; friends ready to
serve, and mistresses eager to please me; I had but to show myself, and
the whole universe would be interested in my concerns; not but I
could have been content with something less; a charming society, with
sufficient means, might have satisfied me. My moderation was such, that
the sphere in which I proposed to shine was rather circumscribed, but
then it was to possess the very quintessence of enjoyment, and myself
the principal object. A single castle, for instance, might have bounded
my ambition; could I have been the favorite of the lord and lady, the
daughter’s lover, the son’s friend, and protector of the neighbors, I
might have been tolerably content, and sought no further.
In expectation of this modest fortune, I passed a few days in the
environs of the city, with some country people of my acquaintance, who
received me with more kindness than I should have met with in town;
they welcomed, lodged, and fed me cheerfully; I could be said to live on
charity, these favors were not conferred with a sufficient appearance of
superiority to furnish out the idea.
I rambled about in this manner till I got to Confignon, in Savoy, at
about two leagues distance from Geneva. The vicar was called M. de
Pontverre; this name, so famous in the history of the Republic, caught
my attention; I was curious to see what appearance the descendants of
the gentlemen of the spoon exhibited; I went, therefore, to visit this
M. de Pontverre, and was received with great civility.