vanished. His youth stood in vain on his side; his romantic notions proving destructive to all his designs. Having neither capacity nor address to surmount the difficulties that fell in his way, and being a stranger to the virtues of moderation and the arts of knavery , he attempted so many things that he could bring none to perfection. Hence, having fallen into his former distress, and being not only in want of clothes and lodging, but even in danger of perishing with hunger, he recollected his former benefactor.[1]
To him he returned , and was well received. The sight of the unhappy youth brought to the poor vicar’s mind the remembrance of a good action;—a remembrance always grateful to an honest mind. This good priest was naturally humane and compassionate. His own misfortunes had taught him to feel for those of others, nor had prosperity hardened his heart. In a word, the maxims of true wisdom and conscious virtue had confirmed the kindness of his natural disposition. He cordially embraced the young wanderer, provided for him a lodging, and shared with him the slender means of his own subsistence. Nor was this all: he went still farther, freely giving him both instruction and consolation, and also endeavoring to teach him the difficult art of supporting adversity with patience. Could you believe, ye sons of prejudice! that a priest, and a priest in Italy too, could be capable of this?
This honest ecclesiastic was a poor Savoyard, who having in his younger days incurred the displeasure
- ↑ How characteristic is this statement of Rousseau! He never seeks to palliate his errors, but speaks as frankly of his faults and ingratitude as of his greatest merits and triumphs. “With equal freedom and veracity” he tells us in his Confessions, “have I related what was laudable or wicked, I have concealed no crimes, added no virtues;… Such as I was, I have declared myself; some times vile and despicable, at others, virtuous, generous, and sublime.”—E.
