Even the country lost in our eyes that charm of sweetness and simplicity which goes to the heart; it seemed sombre and deserted, and was as if covered by a veil, hiding its beauties from our sight.

We no longer tended our little gardens, our plants, our flowers.

We went no more lightly to scratch the earth, shouting for joy as we discovered the germ of the seed we had sown." Whatever may be the degree of literal truth in the Confessions, the whole course of Rousseau's life forbids us to pass this passionate description by as overcharged or exaggerated.

We are conscious in it of a constitutional infirmity.

We perceive an absence of healthy power of reaction against moral shock.