The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Volume 05
Jean-Jacques Rousseau · en
By inconceivable care and vigilance, she saved my life; and I am
convinced she alone could have done this. I have little faith in the
skill of physicians, but depend greatly on the assistance of real
friends, and am persuaded that being easy in those particulars on which
our happiness depends, is more salutary than any other application. If
there is a sensation in life peculiarly delightful, we experienced it in
being restored to each other; our mutual attachment did not increase, for
that was impossible, but it became, I know not how, more exquisitely
tender, fresh softness being added to its former simplicity. I became in
a manner her work; we got into the habit, though without design, of being
continually with each other, and enjoying, in some measure, our whole
existence together, feeling reciprocally that we were not only necessary,
but entirely sufficient for each other's happiness. Accustomed to think
of no subject foreign to ourselves, our happiness and all our desires
were confined to that pleasing and singular union, which, perhaps, had no
equal, which is not, as I have before observed, love, but a sentiment
inexpressibly more intimate, neither depending on the senses, age, nor
figure, but an assemblage of every endearing sensation that composes our
rational existence and which can cease only with our being.
How was it that this delightful crisis did not secure our mutual felicity
for the remainder of her life and mine? I have the consoling conviction
that it was not my fault; nay, I am persuaded, she did not wilfully
destroy it; the invincible peculiarity of my disposition was doomed soon
to regain its empire; but this fatal return was not suddenly
accomplished, there was, thank Heaven, a short but precious interval,
that did not conclude by my fault, and which I cannot reproach myself
with having employed amiss.