Chapter 7 Chapter 3-2

I should never be able to give a full account of all the foolish things I have done in thinking of my dear mother when she was not here.How many times have I kissed my bed when I think that she has slept in it!How many times have I kissed my curtains, and all the furniture in my room, when I remember that they belong to her, and have been touched by her beautiful hands!Even when I think that she has walked across the floor of my house, how many times have I crouched on it!Sometimes, in her presence, I could not refrain from acting in the unthinkable which only the most violent love can impel me to.One day when she was eating, she just put a piece of meat into her mouth, and I yelled that there was a hair on it. She spat the piece of meat into her plate, and I immediately grabbed it and swallowed it. down.In a word, there was only one difference left between me and the most ardent lover, but it was the fundamental difference; and it was this difference that made my situation almost inconceivable, logically speaking.

I came back from Italy quite differently than when I went there, though I am afraid no one of my age has come back from there like I have.What I bring back is not my virgin heart, but my virgin body.I feel myself getting older year by year, and my restless temperament is finally showing, and this initial outburst, completely unconscious, made me panic about my health more than anything else, How pure I was before this.Soon my panic was over, and I learned the dangerous way of deceiving nature, which saves young men of my temper from a life of prostitution, but consumes their health, energy, and sometimes even their lives.This vice is not only very convenient for the shy and timid, but also has a great attraction for those who have a rather strong imagination; in other words, they can possess all the women at will. , you can make the pretty women you're attracted to for your pleasure without their consent.Since I have been tempted by this injurious convenience, I have been destroying the health which nature has given me and which I have maintained for so many years.In addition to this undesirable tendency, there was the actual situation in which I was living: living in the home of a beautiful woman, the image of her was constantly brought back to my mind, I saw her constantly during the day, and I was in the same place at night. Among the things that remind me of her, and the bed I sleep in, I know she has slept in.How many things stimulate me!If the reader thinks in these respects, he may think that I am already half dead.On the contrary, what should have destroyed me saved me, at least temporarily.I am intoxicated with the joy of living with her, and eagerly hope to live by her side forever, whether she is in or not, I always regard her as a loving mother, a lovely sister, a charming girlfriend, Other than that, nothing else.That's how I see her all the time, always, she's the only one I'm thinking of at any one time.Her image occupied me at all times, and therefore left no place for others.To me, she is the only woman in the world.The very tender feeling she made me feel, which did not allow my passions time to stir up for another woman, protected her as well as all women.All in all, I'm honest because I love her.I am not very clear about these matters; as to the nature of my attachment to her, let anyone say what he wants to say.For my part, all I can say is this: If this attachment seems strange now, it will appear even more so afterward.

I spend my time with the utmost pleasure, but I do every day the things that least interest me.That is to draw up plans, transcribe accounts, and copy prescriptions; the other is to select medicinal herbs and mash medicinal materials to "Yi", and talk about disasters and disasters.He also created the law of "quasi" of thirteen strings, expanded the law of twelve, and took care of the distiller.In addition to these messy affairs, there are many passing guests, beggars, and visitors of all kinds.I had to deal with soldiers, apothecaries, priests, ladies, and orderly servants at the same time.I was cursing, muttering, cursing, cursing the hell out of this lousy mess.But Mrs. de Warrens is happy about everything, and my anger can make her laugh and tears; the angrier she sees me, the harder she laughs, so that I can't help laughing too.Those moments where I was a bit of a babbler were also moments that were hilarious.If by chance such a quarrel had a disagreeable guest come suddenly, she would take advantage of the occasion to add a new kind of pleasure, by extending the stay for the sake of jokes, and by giving me so many glances that I really wanted to beat him. her.It was only when she saw that I looked at her with angry eyes because I was restrained by etiquette and didn't dare to explode, she reluctantly restrained her smile; although I was so angry, I still couldn't help feeling that all this was really very serious. Ridiculous.

None of this is to my liking, but it's interesting because it's part of a lifestyle I like.In short, nothing that happened around me, nor what I was told to do, was to my taste, but everything was to my heart.I think I would have fallen in love with medicine after all if my distaste for medicine hadn't provided some giggles that kept us entertained.This is perhaps the first time this technique has had a pleasant effect.I pride myself on being able to tell if it's a medical book by smelling it, and the funniest thing is that I seldom miss it.She often made me taste the most disgusting potions.Although I ran away or didn't taste it when I saw it, it was useless. No matter how I resisted and made a terrible grimace, no matter how unwilling I was and gritted my teeth, but when I saw her medicine-stained When the beautiful finger is close to my mouth, I still have to open my mouth to taste it.When her set of pharmaceutical utensils are piled up in my room, if someone just listens to the sound of us running and shouting amidst laughter, they will definitely think that we are performing some farce instead of being there. Make any narcotic or stimulant.

My time was not entirely spent in such romps.I found several books in my room, among them The Spectator, Pufendorf's Collection, Saint-Evremont's Collection, and La Henriard.Although, I am no longer a book fan like I used to be, I still want to read these books when I have nothing to do.In particular, readings like "The Spectator" interested me deeply, and also benefited me a lot.Father Gu Feng once taught me not to read too much, but to think more: this kind of reading has benefited me a lot.I had grown accustomed to paying attention to the structure of sentences and the beauty of style, and I had learned to distinguish pure French from the vernacular of my dialect.For example, I have corrected a calligraphic error that I, like all Genevans, are prone to make, by the following two lines from La Henriard:

Soitqu'unancien respectpourle sangdeleursmaitres Parlatencorpourluidanslecoeur decestraitres. The word parlst caught my attention, and I learned from this that a "t" is needed in the third person of the subjunctive, and in the past, I have written and pronounced the same as the past tense of the indicative ground with parla. I sometimes talked to my mother about what I was reading, and sometimes read it beside her: this gave me great pleasure;As I said before, Mrs. Warren was a well-bred woman, and it was the period when her talent was shining brightly. Several literati rushed to come to court her and teach her how to appreciate excellent works.If I may say so, I think she has a touch of Protestant taste: she often talks about Pierre Belle, and has a great respect for that Saint-Evremont, long forgotten by France.However, this did not prevent her from having a considerable understanding of excellent literary works, as well as quite original arguments that influenced her.She was brought up in the upper class, and came to Savoy when she was young; she soon lost the affectation of her native Volvaux, through frequent association with the local gentlemen.In her hometown, the average woman regarded wisecracking as a high-society trait, and therefore only uttered aphorisms.

Although she only had a quick glance at the court, it was enough to give her some understanding of the court.She had always retained some friends at court; and notwithstanding the secret envy of her, and notwithstanding the gossip caused by her manners and her debts, she never lost her annuity.She has experience of the world, and a reflective mind which enables her to use it, and this is what she enjoys most in her conversations, and for a dreamer like me, hear her on this. Teaching is more necessary than anything else.We read La Bruye together.She preferred Laleruille's to La Rocheforgot's; the latter had a pessimistic tone that was melancholy to read, especially for young people who did not like to see people for what they were.When she talked about the big truth, sometimes she would run out of ideas, but I would kiss her lips or her hand from time to time, so that I would have the patience to listen to her, and I would not be afraid of her long talk. bored.

If this kind of life can continue for a long time, it will be too beautiful.I feel this, but my current happiness is clouded by fears that things will never last.While joking, my mother studied me, observed me, asked me questions, and made many plans for my future, but these plans were superfluous to me.Fortunately, knowing my inclinations, my hobbies, and my little talents is not enough. Finding or creating opportunities to take advantage of them is not something that can be done overnight.The poor woman's predilection for my faculties also delayed their development, for these preconceived notions made her inflexible in her choice of means.In short, since she had a fairly high opinion of me, things went according to my liking, but, in the case of the high and the low, it was necessary to lower the level three times, which made it difficult for me for a moment. Can't get quiet.She had a relative named Aubonne come to see her.Aubonne was very capable, cunning, and, like her, gifted with planning, but he didn't break the bank for it—he was an adventurer sort of thing.He had just presented to Cardinal de Fleury a detailed plan for a lottery, to which the Cardinal had not agreed.He then made this proposal to the court at Turin, which was accepted and carried out.He stayed for a while at Annecy, and fell in love with the wife of the consul here.This lady is a very lovely woman, I like her very much, and she is the only one I like to see among the women who come to mother.M. Aubonne saw me, and Madame de Warrens spoke to him of me: he promised to examine me, to see what I was fit for, and, if he thought I had talent, to find a place for me.

Madame de Warrens, without telling me anything beforehand, sent me to M. Aubonne two or three mornings on the pretext of calling me on some errand.He introduced me very tactfully, was very kind to me, and tried not to make me feel restrained.He talked to me not only of insignificant things, but of everything, and all of this without looking at me or pretending, as if he enjoyed my company and wanted nothing to do with me. Talk restrainedly.I have a great admiration for him.The result of his observation is: Although I look good, I look dignified and energetic, in fact I can't be said to be absolutely imbecile, at least I don't have much talent, I don't have much thought, and I don't have much knowledge. For young people who are limited in all aspects, it would be great if they can become a parish priest in the countryside in the future. This is the greatest goal I can aspire to.He made this judgment to me in front of Madame Warren.This is the second or third time I have received such a comment; but it will not be the last, for Mr. Masloan's has been repeatedly affirmed.

The reason for this judgment of me, which is mainly connected with my character, needs to be explained; everyone knows in good conscience that I cannot wholeheartedly agree with this judgment, whether M. Masloon, M. Aubonne, etc. And what many others say, to be fair, I don't admire them. It is difficult for me to imagine how two almost absolutely incompatible things have come together in me: on the one hand a very fiery temperament, a ardent and impulsive passion, and on the other hand Dull and confused thoughts, almost always with hindsight.It could be said that my heart and my head do not belong to the same person.Feelings, quicker than lightning, filled my heart at once; but instead of illuminating my heart, it excited me and made me faint.I feel everything, but see nothing clearly.I was so excited, but slow; I had to be calm to think.Strangely enough, I am also resourceful, analytical and even nuanced, given time; I can compose brilliant impromptu poems when I'm taking my time, but never compose a poem when I'm in a hurry. Did a proper thing, and never said a proper word.Just as it is said that the Spaniards can only come up with good tricks when they play chess, I can only say witty things through letters.When I read a joke about the Grand Duke of Savoy, who was walking down the road and suddenly turned his head and shouted: "Merchant of Paris, watch out for your life." I couldn't help thinking: "That's exactly what I am. "

Not only am I emotionally sharp and my mind slow in conversation, but even when I'm working alone.My thoughts are often in a mess in my head, and it is difficult to organize them. These thoughts are swirling and buzzing in my head, like fermentation, which excites me, drives me crazy, and makes my heart pound. Jump; in this state of agitation I could see nothing clearly, could not write a word, and had to wait.Later, imperceptibly, this tumbling wave gradually calmed down, this chaotic situation slowly opened up, and everything was arranged step by step; but this process was very slow, and it was after a long and chaotic period of turmoil. .You have probably seen Italian operas, right?The gigantic theater was an unpleasant chaos at times of change, and for a considerable time; all the props and sets were mixed together, here and there, in a disorganized heap, disturbing to watch, as if Everything seems to be turned upside down; however, gradually everything falls into place, everything takes its place, and you'll be surprised what follows after this long period of confusion A pleasing scene.This situation is much the same as what happens in my head when I want to write.If I am good at waiting, I can describe all the beauty of the things I want to express, and I am afraid that there are few authors who can surpass me. Therefore, writing is extremely difficult for me.My manuscripts have been smeared and redacted, messed up and illegible, all of which testify to what great effort I have put into writing.Before publishing, there was not a single manuscript that I had not transcribed four or five times.With a pen in my hand, facing the table and paper, I can never write anything.I always sketch in my head when I'm walking, among the rocks, in the woods, or when I lie in bed at night and can't sleep; Those who have passed six poems must be so slow in writing.Therefore, in my belly draft, some paragraphs have to go back and forth in my head for five or six nights before I can write them on paper with confidence.It is precisely because of this difficulty that my works that require considerable labor are much better written than those that require only a quick stroke of letters and the like.I have never mastered the style of the epistolary, so it is almost a pain for me to write such things.Every time I write a letter, even on the most insignificant things, it requires hours of hard labor; if I were to immediately write down the things that come to my mind, I would neither know how to begin nor how to finish; The letters I wrote were always long, rambling, full of nonsense, and almost incomprehensible to read. Not only do I have great difficulty expressing my thoughts, but even comprehending them.I have observed people, and I think I am a pretty good observer; yet I am blind to what I see, but I see clearly what I recall, which I can only show in memory. wisdom.What other people said and did in my presence, and everything that happened in front of me, I did not feel or understand at the time.It is only the appearance of things that impresses me.But then all this came back to my mind: the place, the time, the tone of the voice, the look, the gesture, the circumstances, I can remember everything without omission.At this time, I can discover people's thoughts by what they say and do at the time, with very little error. When I am alone, I still can't control my thinking power like this, so when I talk to others, I can imagine what I am like, because in a conversation, to speak properly, A thousand things must be thought of simultaneously and without delay.I am terrified enough just to think that there are so many etiquettes in conversation, and that I am bound to miss a thing or two.I just can't understand how people dare to speak in public, because on that occasion, every word you say has to consider all those present, and in order to be sure that you don't say anything that offends anyone, you need to know everyone present. People's character and their past.In this respect, those who have been in society for a long time have a great advantage: they know better what not to say, and are therefore more sure of what they say.Even so, they can't help but unintentionally say some things that shouldn't be said.One can imagine that a person who has no social experience, who seems to have fallen from a cloud, cannot tell him not to say something wrong, even for a minute.As for the conversation between two people, I find it even more distressing, because it requires constant talking: when someone tells you, you have to answer, and if the other person stops talking, you have to find something to say.This unbearable embarrassment alone made me hate social life.I find nothing more distressing than to be told to speak at once, and to keep on talking.I don't know if it's because I hate being restrained so much. Anyway, if I have to find something to say, I will inevitably say some stupid things. What was worse for me than this was that, since I had nothing to say, I should be silent, and I spoke like a madman, as if anxious to pay my bills.I hastened and stammered incoherent words, which, to my happiness, were really meaningless.My clumsiness, which I would have tried to overcome or cover up, has seldom failed to reveal it.Of the innumerable examples I could cite, I will now cite one, not when I was young, but after I had been in society for many years; Calm and unhurried, talking and laughing.One evening I was with two ladies and a gentleman who, if you may name him, was the Duke de Gonteau.There was no one else in the room, and I tried to put in a few words.God knows what I inserted!Of the four talking, three did not need my intervention at all.The hostess sent for a supply of opiates, which she had to take twice a day for her stomach trouble.The other lady, noticing her grinning, asked her with a smile: "Is it M. Tronche's medicine?" "I don't think so," replied the mistress in the same tone. "I don't think even this medicine will work!" was the gracious addition of the brilliant Rousseau.Everyone present was stunned when they heard this, and no one said a word, and no one smiled. After a while, the topic changed to other matters.Such a stupid thing to say to another woman might be a joke, but to a woman who is so lovely that it will inevitably cause some gossip, although I really don't mean to offend her, it is enough; It is believed that the two witnesses present, a man and a woman, endured and endured so that they did not laugh.These are the witticisms I utter inadvertently when I have nothing to say.I have a hard time forgetting what I said, because besides being memorable in its own right, I think it had some consequences that made me think of it from time to time. All that has been said, I believe, will be sufficient to understand why I, though not a fool, have often been thought of as such, even by persons of considerable discernment.It is especially unfortunate that my face and eyes seem to be very shrewd, so that people's disappointment in me makes my stupidity all the more glaring.Such trivial incidents, although they occurred under special circumstances, are very necessary for understanding what is to come.It is the key to many of my eccentricities; which people often attribute to my withdrawn nature when they see them, when I am not.I would have enjoyed society as much as anyone else, had it not been for my deep knowledge that my presence in society would not only put me at a disadvantage but also prevent me from being myself.I decided to write and retire, which is the most suitable for me.When I appear before people, no one can see my talents, or even guess them. This happened to Madame Dupin, although she is a clever woman, and I still live in her house. A few years later; she herself has spoken to me about this many times since.Of course there are some exceptions, which I will discuss later. The size of my talents has thus been determined, and the occupation suitable for me has been selected in this way. The remaining problem is to study again how to fulfill my vocation.The difficulty was that I had never been formally educated, and the little Latin I knew was not enough to be a priest.Mrs. Warren wanted me to go to a monastery to receive a period of education, and she went to discuss with the abbot.The abbot was a priest of the Mission, named Gero, a small, simple-minded man, half-blind in one eye, thin, grizzled, and said he was one of the Missionaries I had ever seen. The most intelligent and least pedantic of the priests, not too much. Sometimes he came to his mother's house, and she entertained him, fondled him, and teased him, and she sometimes made him help fasten the back of her blouse, a job he was very willing to do.While he was performing this task, Mom would do this and that, circling the room.The Mr. Dean was led away by the belt, and kept muttering in his mouth: "I said, madam, you should stand still!" This is a very good subject for painting. Dean Gero readily agreed to his mother's proposal.He promised to take me in for very little board and lodging, and my education would be in his charge.The question is whether the bishop agrees.The bishop not only agreed, but also offered to pay for my board and lodging.He also allowed me to wear ordinary people's clothes until I thought I had achieved what people expected. What a change!I have to obey.I went to the seminary as I went to the execution ground.A seminary is a truly eerie place, especially for one who has just come from the house of a lovely woman.I took only one book, which I begged my mother to give me, and which gave me infinite comfort.No one could guess what book it was: it turned out to be a sheet of music.Among the sciences she studied, music was not forgotten.She has a very good voice, can sing quite well, and can play a little grand piano.She kindly gave me some music lessons, which I had to learn from the shallowest, for I couldn't even sing hymns.A woman gave me eight or ten lessons, intermittently, and not only failed to teach me to sing notation, but I failed to learn even a quarter of the musical notation.However, I am very fond of this art, and I am willing to practice slowly by myself.The sheet music I brought with me was not very simple, it was a chorus by Clarence.I knew neither inflection nor length of syllables, but at last I read out the score of the first recitative and first aria of the chorus of "Alfie and Aretus", and sang it without any hesitation. Wrong, people can imagine how much effort I put in and how tenaciously I persisted in practicing; of course, this piece of music is written correctly, as long as you read it according to the rhythm of the lyrics, it will naturally be in sync. There was a nasty missionary priest in the seminary who made such trouble with me that I even hated the Latin he taught me.He had smooth, oily black hair, a bread-colored face, a voice like a buffalo, eyes like an owl, a beard like boar's bristles, a malicious sarcasm in his smile, and the movements of a puppet.I have forgotten his loathsome name; but his hideous and sickly countenance has remained in my memory, and I shudder to think of him.I can still vividly recall meeting him in the corridor, politely waving his grimy square hat at me to invite me into his room, which seemed to me to be Worse than a prison.What a difference between such a teacher and the court priest who had been my teacher! If I'm at the mercy of this monster for another two months, I'm going to lose my mind.However, the kind Mr. Gero saw my distress. At that time, I couldn't eat and was losing weight day by day. He understood the reason of my distress at that time.It wasn't a hard thing to fix, and he freed me from the brute's claws.And, in yet another sharper contrast, he entrusted me to a most gentle man: Gaddier, a young priest from Fossini, who had come to this seminary.In order to help Mr. Gero, I think it is also out of benevolence, and he is willing to allocate his own study time to guide my study.I never beheld a more attractive figure than M. Gardiere, who had fair hair, a beard nearly auburn, and had the manner of all the people in his country, with a great deal of wisdom beneath his simple countenance. .What really stood out about him, however, was sensitivity, affection, and warmth.His large blue eyes had a mixture of kindness, gentleness, and sadness, which made it impossible for anyone to see him without being concerned about him.From the look and voice of the poor young man it was almost as if he foreknew his fate, and felt that he was made to suffer. His personality matched his appearance very well; he was so patient, so humble, that he studied with me rather than taught me to read.I liked him immediately because his predecessor had already laid the groundwork for it.However, in spite of the time he spent on me, in spite of our mutual efforts, and in spite of his good teaching, I made very little progress in spite of my efforts.Strange to say, I have never been able to learn anything from my teachers--with the exception of my father and M. Lambercier--in spite of my considerable powers of understanding.Some of my other knowledge is learned by myself, which will become clear in the future.My mind, which cannot bear any restraint, refuses to obey the time limit; the fear that I will not learn prevents me from concentrating on listening to the lecture; I went on to teach, but I didn't understand anything.I want to move at my own pace, not at the pace of others. The time for his ordination came, and M. Gardiere was to return to the province to become deacon.Before leaving, I was reluctant to part with him, saying goodbye and being grateful.My wish for him, like my wish, has not come true.A few years later, I heard that when he was vicar in a parish, he had sex with a girl and had a child.It was that he fell in love with this girl with a very tender and sentimental heart that he had never loved before.It was the most serious incident in a very strictly governed diocese to shock the whole district.By convention, priests can only have sex with married women to have children.Now he broke the canon, was put in prison, was insulted, and was expelled from the country.I do not know whether he will ever be restored to his post, but, out of sympathy for his misfortune, this incident was deeply engraved on my mind, and when I was writing "Emile", I was reminded of it again, I have therefore combined Monsieur Gaddier and Monsieur Gaim, and made these two venerable priests the prototype of the "Vicar of Savoy."I am satisfied that this description does not taint my chosen archetype. M. Aubonne was forced to leave Annecy while I was at the seminary.This is because M. Consul considers the love affair between his wife and M. Aubonne a scandal.Actually it's just a "gardener's dog" thing; Mrs. Gulwich is a lovely woman, but her husband treats her very badly, because of the eccentricity of the out-of-the-hill man, he thinks she is useless and treats her very badly. Cruel enough to raise the issue of separation.Mr. Gulwich was a villain, as insidious as a mole, as cunning as an owl, who, as a result of his constant provocations, was driven out himself.It is said that the Provençals avenge their enemies in song, and M. Aubonne avenged his enemies in a comedy which he once sent to Mme de Warens, who showed it to me.I liked this script very much, and it gave me the idea of ​​writing a comedy: to show if I was really as stupid as the author claimed.However, this plan was not realized until I arrived in Chambery, and the script was called "The Narcissistic Lover".I said in the preface to that play that I wrote it when I was eighteen, but I actually lied about how old I was. About this time an incident happened, which in itself was not very remarkable, but which had some effect on me, and which was still being discussed in society long after I had forgotten it.I was allowed to go out once a week; what I did with my absences is needless to say.One Sunday, while I was at my mother's house, a Franciscan house adjoining my mother's house caught fire.There was a stove in this house, and it was piled full of dry wood.It didn't take long before they all lit up.Mom's house was in dire straits, covered in flames blown by the wind.People had to rush things out of the house and put salvaged furniture in the garden.This garden is just opposite the window of my former lodging, beyond the little river I have spoken of.I was so panicked that I caught something in my hand and went out of the window without thinking. I even threw out the stone mortar that I could hardly lift at ordinary times.If no one stopped me, I would have almost thrown a large mirror.The good Bishop, who was visiting Mamma, was not idle that day, and took Mamma into the garden, and prayed with her and all who were there; I was a little late.Seeing all the people kneeling there, I knelt down like everyone else.While the saint was praying, the wind changed, and so suddenly and just in time, that the flames, which had already fallen upon the house and were about to go through the windows, were diverted to the other side of the courtyard, so that the house was It's all right.Two years later, Bishop de Bernay died, and his old members, the Antonine monks, began to collect some materials that could be used as evidence in order to beatify him.At the request of Father Buddy, I attached the facts I just said to these materials as a testimony. This is the right side of me; but the wrong side is that I went so far as to describe this incident as a miracle.我曾目睹主教在那儿祈祷，正在他祈祷时，风向变了，甚至变得非常及时，这是我所能说的和所能证明的。至于说这两个事实中，究竟是不是有一个是另一个事实的原因，这是我不该证明的，因为我不可能知道此事。但是，就我记忆所及，那时我是真诚的天主教徒，是不说瞎话的。我的非常合乎人情的对于奇迹的喜爱，我对于这位德高望重的主教的敬畏，以及由于我本人自以为对这个奇迹也许有所贡献而出自内心的骄傲，凡此种种都怂恿我犯了这个错误。总之，我敢肯定的是：如果这个奇迹确是热诚祈祷的结果，我当然也有一分功劳在内。 三十多年以后，我发表《山中书简》时候，我不知道弗雷隆先生怎么发现了这个证明材料，并且在他的评论中引用了它。应该承认这个发现是很幸运的，竟这样适逢其会，我觉得是很有趣的事。 我到处碰壁。关于我的进步，加迪埃先生曾尽可能地作了比较有利的报告，但我的进步和我的努力仍然显得不成比例，这种情况也就无法鼓舞我继续学习下去了。因此，主教和神学院院长对我失掉了信心，又将我送回到华伦夫人那里去了，因为我连当神父的材料都不够。不过，他们还是承认我是个相当不错的小伙子，没有什么恶习：正是由于这个原故，尽管大家对我有那么多不利的偏见，华伦夫人却没有抛弃我。 我带着那本乐谱，胜利地回到了妈妈那里，这本书使我受益不小。我唱的《阿尔菲和阿蕾上斯》曲调，差不多就是我在神学院所学的全部东西。我对这种艺术的特别爱好，使她产生了要把我培养成一个音乐家的想法；机会很好，她家里每星期至少要举行一次音乐会，指挥这个小音乐会的一位大教堂的乐师也时常来看妈妈。他是巴黎人，名叫勒·麦特尔，是一个优秀的作曲家，他非常活泼和快乐，还很年轻，外表很吸引人，才气却不甚高，不过总的说来是一个善良的小伙子。妈妈介绍我和他相识，我很喜欢他，他也不讨厌我。我们谈了一下膳宿费用的问题，双方很快就商妥了。简单地说，我搬到他家去了，并在那里过了一个冬天。特别愉快的是那儿离妈妈的住宅不过二十来步远，一忽儿就能到她家里，并常常同她一起吃晚饭。 不难想见，在音乐学校里跟音乐家和歌咏团的儿童们一起，终日过着愉快的歌唱生活，要比我在神学院里天天和遣使会的神父们一起快乐得多了。然而这种生活虽然自由，却跟神学院一样，是有规章制度的。我生来喜好自由，但却从不滥用自由。在整整六个月中，除了到妈妈家或到教堂去以外，我一饮都没有出过门，甚至也不想出去。这段时期是我一生中最平静的阶段，也是我回想起来最感到愉快的阶段。在我经历过的各种环境中，有一些使我感到非常幸福的情景，至今回想起来还为之心旷神怡，好象仍然生活于其中似的。我不仅记得时间、地点和人物，而且还记得周围的一些事物，气候的温度，空气的气味，天空的色彩，以及只有在那个地方才能得到的某种印象，这种生动的回忆仿佛又重新把我送到了那里。例如，音乐学校里所练习的一切曲子，合唱时所唱的一切歌词，那里发生的一切事情；教士的美丽而华贵的法衣，神父的长袍，歌咏队员的四角帽，乐师的面容；一位吹低音巴松管的瘸腿老木匠，一位拉小提琴的矮个子的金栗色头发修士；勒·麦特尔先生放下佩剑后，在他的世俗服装上披上一件旧黑袍，再穿上一件好看的小白衣到经楼去；我带着骄傲的心情拿着一管长笛坐在乐台上，准备演奏勒·麦特尔先生特意为我作的一小段独奏曲，心里想着奏完以后的盛馔，会餐时的那种好胃口。这种种事情，成百次生动地重现在我的脑际，使我感到无穷的愉快，可以说，和当时所感到的一样快乐，甚至比当时还要快乐。我对于以宛转悠扬的声音奏出的《美丽的繁星之神》乐曲中的某一曲调一直怀有最缠绵的亲切之感，因为在降临节的一个星期日，天还没亮，我正睡在床上，听见人们按照当地教堂的仪式，在圣堂的石阶上唱这首赞美歌。妈妈的贴身侍女麦尔赛莱小姐懂得一点音乐，我永远也忘不了勒·麦特尔先生叫我跟她一起唱的那首叫《请献礼》的合唱赞歌，当时她的女主人是那样高兴地听着。总之，所有这些，甚至连那位常被歌咏团的儿童惹得生气的好心肠的女仆佩琳娜，我都记得。这种对幸福的天真时代的回忆，常使我陶醉，也使我忧伤。 我在安讷西住了将近一年，没有受到一点责难，不论谁都对我很满意。我自从离开都灵以后，就没有再做蠢事了；只要是在妈妈的眼前，我是绝不会作蠢事的。她引导我，而且一直是很好地引导着我。我对她的依恋成了我唯一的欲望，然而这不是一种疯狂的欲望，可以证明这一点的是，我的心灵使我的理智得到了加强。真实的情况是，这种单一的情感吸收了我的全部才智，弄得我什么也没有学好，甚至连我尽了一切努力去学的音乐也没有学成功。但是，这也不怨我，我是全心全意、勤勤恳恳地去学的。只是我的思想不能集中，总是出神，总是叹气，在这种情况下我有什么办法呢？为求进步，凡是我力所能及的，我都做了，可是，要让我再干新的蠢事，只须有人来引诱我一下就够了。这个人出现了，天造地设的巧遇促成了这样的机会，读者在下面可以看到，我那疯狂的头脑又抓住了它。 二月的一个夜晚，天气很冷，我们正围着炉子烤火，听到有人敲街门。佩琳娜拿着提灯走下楼去，门开了，一个年轻人和她一齐走了进来，上了楼。他露着从容不迫的神情走到我们面前，并向勒·麦特尔先生说了几句简短而文雅的客气话，他自我介绍说，他是一个法国音乐家，由于经济困难，希望在教堂里干点杂务，挣点儿路费。勒·麦特尔先生一听到法国音乐家这几个字，他那题善良的心就真地被感动了，因为他热爱自己的祖国和自己的艺术。他接待了这个年轻的过路客人，留他住宿；显然，这是客人求之不得的，所以没有怎样表示客气就留了下来。在他一边烤火一边聊天等候开饭的时候，我对他作了一番观察。他的身材矮小，肩膀却很宽，我虽然看不出他的身体上有什么特别畸形的地方，却总觉得它有些不匀称；他可以说是一个平肩膀的伛偻人，腿显得有一点瘸。他穿着一件黑色上衣，虽不算很旧，但却穿得破烂不堪，简直可以说会往下掉碎片儿。他的内衣非常考究，而且还有镶着花边的华丽袖口，已经很脏了，腿肚上绑着腿套，每只腿套里差不多都可以放进他的两只腿，腋下挟着一顶小帽子，是备遮雪之用的。然而，在这种令人发笑的装束中倒有几分高贵的气派，他的态度也给人以同样的感觉，他的面貌清秀可爱，口齿伶俐，就是不太端庄。这一切都标志着他是一个受过教育的放荡青年，他不象一个讨饭的乞丐，却象一个滑稽丑角。他对我们说他名叫汪杜尔·德·维尔诺夫，他从巴黎来，迷了路，并且好象有点儿忘了他的音乐家身分，又说，他要到格勒诺布尔去看他的一个在国会里的亲戚。 吃晚饭的时候，大家谈起了音乐。他对音乐很内行，他知道所有的著名演奏家，所有的名曲，所有的男女演员，所有的漂亮女人，所有的大贵族。似乎别人提什么他就知道什么，但是，一个话题刚刚开始，他就插科打诨，搅乱了谈话，让人大笑一阵，随后连刚才说的是什么都忘了。那一天是星期六，第二天在教堂里要演奏音乐，勒·麦特尔先生请他去参加那里的演唱，他回答说：“十分高兴。”问他哪一个音部，他回答说：“男高音……”说完就立刻把话转到别的事情上去了。在进教堂以前，有人把他要唱的歌谱给了他，让他先熟悉一下，可是，他连看都不看。这种骄傲的态度使勒·麦特尔吃惊了，他在我耳边说：“你看吧，他连一个音符都不会。”我回答说：“我也真担心。”我怀着不安的心情随他们一同去了。音乐会开始了，我的心跳动得非常厉害，因为我对他十分关心。 但是，很快我就放心了，他唱了两个独唱，不仅节奏准确，而且十分有味，另外，他的嗓音也非常漂亮。我从来也没有这样惊喜过。弥撒后，汪杜尔先生受到了许多教士和乐师们的赞扬，他以谐趣横生的话作了答谢，态度始终非常动人。勒·麦特尔先生出于至诚拥抱了他，我同样也拥抱了他。他看到我非常愉快，因而似乎也很高兴。 我敢肯定，大家会认为，象巴克勒先生那样，充其量不过是一个粗人，也还曾使我迷恋过，现在，这样一位既有教养，又有才能，为人机智，有处世经验，而且又可以被看作是位可爱的荡子的汪杜尔先生，当然更能使我为之倾倒了。事情正是这样。我想，不论是哪一个青年，处在我的地位都会象我这样爱慕如狂的；特别是一个人，越是具有赏识别人特长的能力，越是对别人的才能表示爱慕，就越容易象我这样行动。汪杜尔先生有这种特长，这是无可争辩的，他有一种象他那样年龄的人极少有的特点，那就是决不急于显示自己的学识。不错，他对自己所不知道的事情大吹特吹，但是对自己知道的事情——他知道的还真不少——却一字不提：他在等待表现的机会；由于他并不急于显露自己，因此效果更大。由于他对所谈到的每件事都是开一个头就不谈了，别人也就不知道他什么时候才会把他的本领完全表现出来。他在谈话中是那样逗笑和诙谐，有时显得有无穷无尽的精力，有时又充满了魅力，他常保持着微笑，但从来不大笑，最粗鲁的事，他也能说得很文雅，让人听得顺耳。甚至那些最正派的女人，对于自己居然能忍受住他的话，事后也感到十分惊奇。她们明明知道应该生气，可就是没有生气的力量，要生气也生不起来。他所需要的只是些淫荡的女人；我认为他自己不会搞些什么风流艳事，但是在交际场中，他生来是为了给那些有风流艳事的人添加无限乐趣的。他既具有那么多讨人喜欢的才能，又是在一个不仅了解这种才能而且还爱慕这种才能的地方，要他长期把自己局限在音乐家的圈子里，那是难以想象的事情。 我喜欢汪杜尔先生，其动机是更为理智的，结果也就没做出什么荒唐的事来，虽然我这次对他的感情比上次对巴克勒先生的感情更激烈和持久一些。我喜欢和他见面，喜欢听他说话，他所作的一切我都认为可爱，他所说的一切我都看作神谕；但是，我对他的爱慕并没有达到离不开的程度。因为我身旁有个很好的屏障，绝不致发生越轨的事。再说，虽然我认为他的处世格言对他非常好，我总觉得那些格言在我身上并不适用。我所需求的是另一种乐趣；关于这种乐趣，他完全没有想到，而我又不敢跟他说，因为我知道一说出来他准定要讥笑我。然而，我却愿意把我对他的爱慕和支配着我的另一种激情调和在一起。我非常热烈地在妈妈面前谈到他，勒·麦特尔先生也极口称赞他，因此妈妈同意让我把他引见给她。但是，这次会面毫无成就，他认为她装模作样，她却认为他放荡不羁。妈妈还为我有这样不规矩的朋友而担心，她不仅不准我再把他带来，还竭力对我说明和这个年轻人交往有多大危险；这样我才变得谨慎了一些，没再胡闹下去。好在以后不久，我们也就分离了；这对我的品行和我的思想来说，真是万幸。 勒·麦特尔先生对自己的艺术的兴趣很浓，他还好喝酒。虽然他吃饭的时候很有节制，但是，他在屋子里工作的时候，就非喝不可。他的女仆很了解他这种爱好，只要他把作曲的稿纸放好，把大提琴拿在手中，酒壶和酒杯立刻就送了上来，而且还不时地喝完一壶又换一壶。虽然他从未酩酊大醉过，却几乎总是醉醺醺的；老实说，这真可惜，因为他本质上是个极好的小伙子，又十分活泼，连妈妈乎常都只叫他“小猫”。他喜爱自己的艺术，工作很繁重，可是，酒喝的也不少。这不仅损害了他的健康，还影响到他的性情：他有时疑心重重，而且易于发怒。他无论对什么人，从没有粗言粗语，从不失礼，就是对歌咏团里的一个孩子也没说过一句难听的话；但是，他也不容许别人对他失礼。这当然是公平的。不幸的是，他看事不太清楚，分不清别人说话的语气和性质，以致常常无缘无故地发起火来。 过去很多王公和主教都以能参预其事为无上荣耀的历史悠久的日内瓦主教会，如今在流亡中虽然失去了昔日的光彩，却还保持着它的庄严。参加者必须是一个贵族或索尔朋的博士。如果有什么情有可原的骄傲，那就是除了由于个人的功绩产生的骄傲外，还有由于出身而产生的骄傲。再说，教士们对待他们所雇用的俗人，都是相当骄傲的。那些主教会的成员们对待可怜的勒·麦特尔也往往是这样。尤其是那位名叫德·维栋讷的领唱的神父，虽然一般说来是相当有礼貌的，但是由于对自己的高贵身份过于自满，他对待勒·麦特尔的态度，并不总是按照勒·麦特尔的才能给予应有的尊敬，而勒·麦特尔也不甘忍受他的这种轻蔑。在这年的受难周期间，主教照例宴请当地的会员，勒·麦特尔一向是在被邀请之列；席间，勒·麦特尔和德·维栋讷发生了比平日更为激烈的争执。那位领唱的神父对勒·麦特尔作出了越礼的举动，并且说了几句令他忍受不了的难听的话；勒·麦特尔立即决定第二天的夜间离开此地。虽然在他向华伦夫人告别的时候，华伦夫人对他进行了百般劝解，也丝毫未能使他改变主意。正在特别需要他的复活节期间，他突然走开，使那些专横无礼的人感到为难，这种报复的愉快他是不能放弃的。但是，他自己也有困难，他想带走自己的乐谱，这真不是一件容易的事，那些乐谱足足装满了一大箱子，分量相当重，不是用胳膊一挟就能走开的。 妈妈做的事，是我处在她的地位也一定会做的，即使到现在我也会这样做。为了挽留他，她费了很大劲，后来见到劝说无效，他无论如何非走不可，便决定尽可能来帮助他。我敢说，她这样作是应该的，因为勒·麦特尔曾不顾一切为她效劳过。无论是在他的艺术方面，或者是在照顾她本人方面，他是完全听从妈妈吩咐的，而且，他按妈妈旨意办事的那种热诚，使他的殷勤效劳具有一种新的价值。因此，她现在对他所做的，只不过是在紧要关头对一个朋友三四年来零零星星替她所做的一切事情一种总的报答罢了；但是，她有一颗高贵的心，在尽这种义务的时候，用不着去想这是为了了结自己的一番心愿。她把我叫来，吩咐我至少要把勒·麦特尔先生送到里昂，并且跟我说，只要他还需要我帮忙的话，不管时间多么久，也要一直跟随着他。后来，她曾对我坦白地承认过，她有意使我远远躲开汪杜尔和她如此安排有很大的关系。为搬运箱子的事，她跟她忠实的仆人克洛德·阿奈商量了一下。按他的意见，不要在安讷西雇驮东西的牲口，因为那一定会被别人发觉的，最好是在天黑的时候抬着箱子走一段路，然后在乡村里雇一匹驴子把箱子一直驮到色赛尔，我们到那里就没有什么可冒险的了，因为那儿是在法国境内。这个意见被采纳了，我们当天晚上七点钟动身，妈妈借口给我拿路费，往那可怜的“小猫”的小钱袋里添了一些钱。这真给他帮了不少忙。克洛德·阿奈和我尽了最大的力气把箱子抬到邻近一个村子，在那里雇了一匹驴子把我们替换下来，我们当夜就到了色赛尔。 我想我已经谈过，我有时是那样不象我自己，大家简直可以把我当作另外一个性格完全相反的人看待。这里就是一个例子。色赛尔的本堂神父雷德莱是圣彼得修会的成员，所以也认识勒·麦特尔先生，因此，他是勒·麦特尔最应该躲避的人之一。可是我的意见却相反，我主张去拜访他，找一个借口要求住宿，就仿佛是得到主教会的同意去那里的。勒·麦特尔很欣赏我这个主意，因为可以使他的报复既有嘲弄意味，又能令人绝倒。于是我们就厚着脸皮去见雷德莱先生了，他很好地接待了我们，勒·麦特尔对他说，他是受主教的委托到贝莱去指挥复活节的音乐演唱的，还说几天后回来时还打算从这里路过；而我呢，为了支持这个谎言，又穿插了很多假话，而且诌得头头是道，以致雷德莱先生觉得我是个漂亮孩子，对我大表好感，百般抚爱。我们吃得不错，住得也不错。雷德荣先生简直不知道用什么样的佳肴招待我们才好。分别的时候，象最亲密的朋友那样，约定在回来的时候还要多住一些时间。刚一等到只有我们俩的时候，我们就大笑起来，我坦白地说，直到现在我想起这件事来还忍不住大笑，因为我实在没有想到我们说假话会说得这么好，而这个恶作剧会这样成功。要是勒·麦特尔先生不是一个劲儿地喝酒，并且满嘴胡说，还发了两三次老毛病的话，这件事会使我们笑一路的。他那个老毛病后来常发作，很象羊痫风。这种情况可叫我十分为难，也把我吓坏了，因此，我就想到最好想个办法尽快摆脱开他。 我们真象对雷德莱神父所说的那样到贝莱去过复活节。虽然我们是不速之客，却也受到了乐队指挥和所有的人的极大欢迎。勒·麦特尔先生的那一行业是很受人尊重的，他也真不愧是个受人尊重的人。贝莱的乐队指挥对于自己最好的一些作品是很自负的，竭力争取这位优秀的鉴赏家的称赞，因为勒·麦特尔先生不仅是个行家，而且公正无私，不嫉妒人，也不低声下气地奉承人，他比那些外省的乐师要高明得多，他们自己也深知这一点，所以他们不把他看作自己的同行，而把他看作自己的指挥。 我们在贝莱非常愉快地度过了四五天以后，便又动身继续我们的旅程，除了我在上面说过的那种事情以外，没有发生别的意外。到了里昂以后，我们下榻于圣母旅馆，同时等着我们的乐谱箱子，因为我们用另一个谎言托好心的保护人雷德莱神父打发人把它送到罗讷河的船上去了。在这个时候，勒·麦特尔先生去拜会他的朋友，其中，有方济各会的加东神父，关于他的事我以后再谈，有里昂的伯爵——多尔当神父，这两人都很好地接待了他，但是，他们揭穿了他的谎言，下面就要谈这件事；他的那步好运在雷德莱神父那里算是走完了。 我们到了里昂两天之后，当我们正从离下榻的旅馆不远的一条胡同经过的时候，勒·麦特尔先生的病又发作了，这一次闹得非常厉害，可把我给吓坏了。我大叫起来，呼喊救人，并且说出了他所住的旅馆名称，请求大家把他送到那里去。随后，正当许多路人向一个失去知觉、口吐白沫、倒在街中心的人围拢起来急忙进行救护的时候，他所能依靠的唯一的朋友竟把他抛弃了。趁没有任何人注意我的时候，我溜到胡同口，一拐弯就不见了。上帝保佑，我可把这第三个难以出口的坦白写完了。假使我还有许多象这样的事要坦白的话，我就只好放弃我已经开始的这本著作了。 我上面所谈的一切，在我所住过的地方都留了一些痕迹，但是，下一章里我要谈的，差不多完全是人们所不知道的事情了。那是我一生中所干的最荒唐的一些事情，幸运的是，它们并未带来严重的后果。那时，我的脑子里好象响起了一种外来乐器的调子，完全超出了原来的音调。它是自动地恢复正常的，于是我便停止了自己的荒唐行为，或者至少是只干了一些比较适合我的本性的荒唐行为。我青年时代的这段时期，是我的回忆中最模糊的时期。在这段时期里，几乎没有发生一件打动我心弦的事，足以使我能够清晰地回忆起来。那时候，经过那么多的来来往往和接二连三的迁移，很难不在时间或地点方面有些张冠李戴的地方。我是完全凭记忆来写的，既没有足资证明的日记和文件，也没有使我能把事情回忆起来的材料。我一生所经历的事情，有一些好象刚发生时那样清楚，但是，也有一些脱漏或空白，我只好用象我的模糊的回忆一样的模糊叙述将它们填补起来。所以，有的地方我可能写错了，尤其是那些无关紧要的小事，在我自己没有找到确实的材料以前，我可能还要写错，但是，关于真正重要的事情，我深信我是正确而忠实的，今后我仍将努力完全做到这一点，读者尽可放心。 我一离开勒·麦特尔先生，我就打定主意再回到安讷西去。当初我们动身的起因和秘密，曾使我对于我们的安全问题十分担忧，这种担忧有几天完全占据了我的心灵，转移了我的回家的念头；但是，当我意识到没有什么危险的时候，我那占统治地位的感情就又恢复过来了。任何东西也引不起我的兴趣，任何东西也引诱不了我，除了希望回到妈妈身边外，再也没有别的心思了。我对她的那种依恋是如此真挚而情意绵绵，因而铲除了我心里一切空想的计划和一切荒诞的野心。除了生活在她身边，我看不到还有别的幸福，我每远走一步就觉得自己离这种幸福远了一些。所以，我一有回去的可能，马上就返回安讷西了。我这次回来是那样匆促，我的心思又是那样恍惚，虽然我对于所有其他次的旅行都存有饶有趣味的回忆，而对这次回来的情况却连一点儿印象都没有了。我只记得从里昂动身和到达安讷西，除此以外，我什么也记不得了。请大家想一想，我对这最后一段时间的事情是不是应该忘得干干净净吧！我回到了安讷西，却没有看到华伦夫人。她已经到巴黎去了！ 我始终没有弄清楚她这次旅行的秘密。我确信，如果我追问她的话，她一定会对我说的；但是，没有比我这个人更不愿意打听朋友的秘密了。我只考虑眼前，眼前的事情充满了我这颗心的容量与空隙，除了可以成为我今后唯一享受的那些过去的欢乐以外，我心里没有一点空隙来容纳已经成为过去的事情。从她对我所谈的一点情况来推测，这是由于撒丁王的退位在都灵引起了混乱，她怕这时候没人再注意到她，因而想利用奥博讷先生的暗中活动从法国宫廷方面获得同样的利益。她有几次亲口对我说，她宁愿从法国宫廷方面获得接济，因为法国宫廷有那么多重要的事情，可以使她不致受到令人不快的监督。如果真是这样，那就更奇怪了，她回来以后，并没有因此而受到冷遇，而且始终不断地领取她的年金。有不少人认为，她是负有秘密使命去的。不是受了主教的委托去办一件本来应由主教本人到法国宫廷去办的事，就是受了比主教更有权势的人的委托，所以她归来以后才得到了很好的待遇。如果是这样，可以肯定地说，这个女使节的人选是很不错的，当时还年轻和美丽的华伦夫人是具备从谈判中取得胜利的一切才能。