Hoc erat in votis: Modus agri non ita magnus Hortus ubi, et tecto vicinus jugis aquae fons;Et paulum sylvae super his foret.
I CANNOT add: auctius atque di melius fecere.But no matter, the former is enough for my purpose; I had no occasion to have any property there, it was sufficient that I enjoyed it; for I have long since both said and felt, that the proprietor and possessor are two very different people, even leaving husbands and lovers out of the question.
At this moment began the short happiness of my life, those peaceful and rapid moments, which have given me a right to say, I have lived.Precious and ever-regretted moments! Ah! recommence your delightful course; pass more slowly through my memory, if possible, than you actually did in your fugitive succession.How shall Iprolong, according to my inclination, this recital at once so pleasing and simple? How shall I continue to relate the same occurrences, without wearying my readers with the repetition, any more than I was satiated with the enjoyment? Again, if all this consisted of facts, actions, or words, I could somehow or other convey an idea of it;but how shall I describe what was neither said nor done, nor even thought, but enjoyed, felt, without being able to particularize any other object of my happiness than the bare idea? I rose with the sun, and was happy; I walked, and was happy; I saw Madam de Warrens, and was happy; I quitted her, and still was happy!- Whether Irambled through the woods, over the hills, or strolled along the valley; read, was idle, worked in the garden, or gathered fruits, happiness continually accompanied me; it was fixed on no particular object, it was within me, nor could I depart from it a single moment.
Nothing that passed during that charming epocha, nothing that I did, said, or thought, has escaped my memory.The time that preceded or followed it, I only recollect by intervals, unequally and confused;but here I remember all as distinctly as if it existed at this moment.
Imagination, which in my youth was perpetually anticipating the future, but now takes a retrograde course, makes some amends by these charming recollections for the deprivation of hope, which I have lost forever.I no longer see anything in the future that can tempt my wishes, it is a recollection of the past alone that can flatter me, and the remembrance of the period I am now describing is so true and lively, that it sometimes makes me happy, even in spite of my misfortunes.
Of these recollections I shall relate one example, which may give some idea of their force and precision.The first day we went to sleep at Charmettes, the way being up-hill, and Madam de Warrens rather heavy, she was carried in a chair, while I followed on foot.Fearing the chairmen would be fatigued, she got out about half-way, designing to walk the rest of it.As we passed along, she saw something blue in the hedge, and said, "There's some periwinkle in flower yet!" I had never seen any before, nor did I stop to examine this: my sight is too short to distinguish plants on the ground, and Ionly cast a look at this as I passed: an interval of near thirty years had elapsed before I saw any more periwinkle, at least before Iobserved it, when being at Cressier, in 1764, with my friend, M.du Peyrou, we went up a small mountain, on the summit of which there is a level spot, called with reason, Belle-vue; I was then beginning to herbalize;- walking and looking among the bushes, I exclaimed with rapture, "Ah, there's some periwinkle!" Du Peyrou, who perceived my transport, was ignorant of the cause, but will some day be informed, Ihope, on reading this.The reader may judge by this impression, made by so small an incident, what an effect must have been produced by every occurrence of that time.
Meantime, the air of the country did not restore my health; I was languishing and became more so; I could not endure milk, and was obliged to discontinue the use of it.Water was at this time the fashionable remedy for every complaint; accordingly I entered on a course of it, and so indiscreetly, that it almost released me, not only from my illness but also from my life.Every morning I went to the fountain and drank about two bottles, while I walked.I stopped drinking wine at meals.The water was rather hard and difficult to pass, as water from mountains generally is; in two months I ruined my stomach, which had been very good, and no longer digested anything properly.At this time an accident happened, as singular in itself as in its subsequent consequences, which can only terminate with my existence.
One morning, being no worse than usual, while putting up the leaf of a small table, I felt a sudden and almost inconceivable revolution throughout my whole frame.I know not how to describe it better than as a kind of tempest, which suddenly rose in my blood, and spread in a moment over every part of my body.My arteries began beating so violently that I not only felt their motion, but even heard it, particularly that of the carotids, attended by a loud noise in my ears, which was of three, or rather four, distinct kinds.For instance, first a grave hollow buzzing; then a more distinct murmur, like the running of water; then an extremely sharp hissing, attended by the beating I before mentioned, and whose throbs I could easily count, without feeling my pulse, or putting a hand to any part of my body.This internal tumult was so violent that it has injured my auricular organs, and rendered me, from that time, not entirely deaf, but hard of hearing.