The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Volume 12 — Jean-Jacques Rousseau — John Shaqi
The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Volume 12
Jean-Jacques Rousseau · en
Having quite abandoned literature, all I now thought of was leading a
quiet life, and one as agreeable as I could make it. When alone, I have
never felt weariness of mind, not even in complete inaction; my
imagination filling up every void, was sufficient to keep up my
attention. The inactive babbling of a private circle, where, seated
opposite to each other, they who speak move nothing but the tongue, is
the only thing I have ever been unable to support. When walking and
rambling about there is some satisfaction in conversation; the feet and
eyes do something; but to hear people with their arms across speak of the
weather, of the biting of flies, or what is still worse, compliment each
other, is to me an insupportable torment. That I might not live like a
savage, I took it into my head to learn to make laces. Like the women,
I carried my cushion with me, when I went to make visits, or sat down to
work at my door, and chatted with passers-by. This made me the better
support the emptiness of babbling, and enabled me to pass my time with my
female neighbors without weariness. Several of these were very amiable
and not devoid of wit. One in particular, Isabella d'Ivernois, daughter
of the attorney-general of Neuchatel, I found so estimable as to induce
me to enter with her into terms of particular friendship, from which she
derived some advantage by the useful advice I gave her, and the services
she received from me on occasions of importance, so that now a worthy and
virtuous mother of a family, she is perhaps indebted to me for her
reason, her husband, her life, and happiness. On my part, I received
from her gentle consolation, particularly during a melancholy winter,
through out the whole of which when my sufferings were most cruel, she
came to pass with Theresa and me long evenings, which she made very short
for us by her agreeable conversation, and our mutual openness of heart.
She called me papa, and I called her daughter, and these names, which we
still give to each other, will, I hope, continue to be as dear to her as
they are to me. That my laces might be of some utility, I gave them to
my young female friends at their marriages, upon condition of their
suckling their children; Isabella's eldest sister had one upon these
terms, and well deserved it by her observance of them; Isabella herself
also received another, which, by intention she as fully merited. She has
not been happy enough to be able to pursue her inclination. When I sent
the laces to the two sisters, I wrote each of them a letter; the first
has been shown about in the world; the second has not the same celebrity:
friendship proceeds with less noise.