Section 1 of Confessions Volumes 5 and 6. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Confessions Volumes 5 and 6 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Anonymously translated. Section 1. Volume 5. It was, I believe, in 1732 that I arrived at Chambéry, as already related, and began my employment of registering land for the king. I was almost twenty-one. My mind well enough formed for my age, with respect to sense, but very deficient in point of judgment, and needing every instruction from those into whose hands I fell, to make me conduct myself with propriety. For a few years' experience had not been able to cure me radically of my romantic ideas, and notwithstanding the ills I had sustained, I knew as little of the world, or mankind, as if I had never purchased instruction. I slept at home, that is at the house of Madame de Vrance, but it was not as at Annecy. Here were no gardens, no brook, no landscape. The house was dark and dismal, and my apartment the most gloomy of the whole. The prospect, a dead wall, an alley instead of a street, confined air. Bad light, small rooms, iron bars, rats, and a rotten floor, an assemblage of circumstances that do not constitute a very agreeable habitation. And I was in the same house with my best friend, incessantly near her, at my desk or in her chamber, so that I could not perceive the gloominess of my own, or have time to think of it. It may appear whimsical that she should reside at Champs-Bérée, on purpose to live in this disagreeable house, but it was a tray of contrivance which I ought not to pass over in silence. She had no great inclination for a journey to Turin, fearing that after the recent revolutions and the agitation in which the court yet was, she should not be very favourably received there. But her affairs seemed to demand her presence, as she feared being forgotten or ill-treated, particularly as the court de Saint Laurent, Intendant General of the finances, was not in her interest. He had an old house in Champs-Bérée, ill-built, and standing in so disagreeable a situation, but it was always untenanted. She hired and settled in this house, a plan that succeeded much better than a journey to Turin would have done, for her pension was not suppressed, and the court de Saint Laurent was ever after one of her best friends. Her household was much on the old footing, her faithful Claude Anne still remained with her. He was, as I have before mentioned, a peasant of Moutreux, who in his childhood had gathered herbs in Jura for the purpose of making Swiss tea. She had taken him into her service for his knowledge of drugs, finding it convenient to have a herbalist among her domestics. Passionately fond of the study of plants, he became a real botanist, and had he not died young, might have acquired as much fame in that science as he deserved for being an honest man. Serious even to gravity, and older than myself, he was to me a kind of tutor. Commanding respect, and preserving me from a number of follies, for I dared not forget myself before him. He commanded it likewise from his mistress, who knew his understanding, uprightness, and inviolable attachment to herself, and returned it. Claude Anne was of an uncommon temper. I never encountered a similar disposition. He was slow, deliberate, and circumspect in his conduct, cold in his manner, laconic and sententious in his discourse, yet of an impetuosity in his passions, which though careful to conceal, preyed upon him inwardly, and urged him to the only folly he ever committed. That folly indeed was terrible. It was poisoning himself. This tragic scene passed soon after my arrival, and opened my eyes to the intimacy that subsisted between Claude Anne and his mistress. For had not the information come from her, I should never have suspected it. Yet surely, if attachment, fidelity, and zeal could merit such a recompense, it was due to him. And what further proves him worthy such a distinction. He never once abused her confidence. They seldom disputed, and their disagreements ever ended amicably. One indeed was not so fortunate. His mistress, in a passion, said something affronting, which not being able to digest, he consulted only with despair, and finding a bottle of Lodinum at hand, drank it off, then went peaceably to bed, expecting to awake no more. Madame de Varence herself was uneasy, agitated, wandering about the house, and happily finding the file empty, guessed the rest. Her screams, when flying to his assistance, alarmed me.  Yes, of this scene, I could not but wonder at my stupidity, in never having suspected the connection. But Claude Arnais was so discreet, that a more penetrating observer might have been deceived. Their reconciliation affected me, and added respect to the esteem I before felt for him. From this time I became, in some measure, his pupil, nor did I find myself the worse for his instruction. I could not learn, without pain, that she lived in greater intimacy with another than with myself. It was a situation I had not even thought of, but which was very natural. It hurt me to see another in possession of it. Nevertheless, instead of feeling any aversion to the person who had this advantage over me, I found the attachment I felt for her actually extend to him. I desired her happiness above all things, and since he was concerned in her plan of felicity, I was content he should be happy likewise. Meantime he perfectly entered into the views of his mistress, conceived a sincere friendship for me, and without affecting the authority his situation might have entitled him to, he naturally possessed that which his superior judgment gave him over mine. I dared do nothing he disapproved of, but he was sure to disapprove only what merited disapprobation. Thus we lived in an union which rendered us mutually happy, and which death alone could dissolve. One proof of the excellence of this amiable woman's character is that all those who loved her loved each other, even jealousy and rivalship submitting to the more powerful sentiment with which she inspired them. And I never saw any of those who surrounded her entertain the least ill will among themselves. Let the reader pause a moment on this encomium, and if he can recollect any other woman who deserves it, let him attach himself to her, if he would obtain happiness. From my arrival at Chambéry to my departure for Paris, 1741, included an interval of eight or nine years, during which time I have few adventures to relate, my life being as simple as it was agreeable. This uniformity was precisely what was most wanting to complete the formation of my character, which continual troubles had prevented from acquiring any degree of stability. It was during this pleasing interval that my unconnected, unfinished education gained consistency, and made me what I have unalterably remained amid the storms with which I have since been surrounded. The progress was slow, almost imperceptible, and attended by few memorable circumstances, yet it deserves to be followed and investigated. At first I was wholly occupied with my business. The constraint of a desk left little opportunity for other thoughts. The small portion of time I was at liberty was passed with my dear Madame de Varence, and not having leisure to read, I felt no inclination for it. But when my business, by daily repetition, became familiar, and my mind was less occupied, study again became necessary. And as my desires were ever irritated by any difficulty that opposed the indulgence of them, might once more have become a passion, as at my masters had not other inclinations interposed and diverted it. Though our occupation did not demand a very profound skill in arithmetic, it sometimes required enough to puzzle me. To conquer this difficulty I purchased books which treated on that science, and learned well, for I now studied alone. Practical arithmetic extends further than is usually supposed if you would attain exact precision. There are operations of extreme length in which I have sometimes seen good geometricians lose themselves. Reflection assisted by practice gives clear ideas, and enables you to devise shorter methods. These inventions flatter our self-complacency, while their exactitude satisfies our understanding, and renders a study pleasant, which is of itself heavy and un-entertaining. At length I became so expert as not to be puzzled by any question that was solvable by arithmetical calculation, and even now, while everything I formerly knew fades daily on my memory, this acquirement in a great measure remains through an interval of thirty years. A few days ago, in a journey I made to Davenport, being with my host at an arithmetical lesson given his children, I did, with pleasure and without errors, a most complicated work. While setting down my figures, we thought I was still at Champs-Bérée, still in my days of happiness. How far had I to look back for them? The coloured plans of our geometricians had given me a taste for drawing. Accordingly I bought colours, and began by attempting flowers and landscapes. It was unfortunate that I had not talents for this art, for my inclination was much disposed to it, and while surrounded with crayons, pencils, and colours, I could have passed whole months without wishing to leave them. This amusement engaged me so much that they would have blighted to force me from it, and thus it is with every inclination I give into. It continues to augment, till at length it becomes so powerful that I lose sight of everything except the favourite amusement. Years have not been able to cure me of that fault. They have not even diminished it, for while I am writing this, behold me, like an old dotard, infatuated with another to me useless study, which I do not understand, and which even those who have devoted their youthful days to the acquisition of, are constrained to abandon at the age I am beginning with it. End of section 1 Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere, Surrey. Section 2 of Confessions volumes 5 and 6. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Geeson. Confessions volumes 5 and 6 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. At that time the study I am now speaking of would have been well placed. The opportunity was good, and I had some temptation to profit by it. For the satisfaction I saw in the eyes of Anne, when he came home loaded with new discovered plants, set me two or three times on the point of going to herbalise with him, and I am almost certain that had I gone once I should have been caught. And perhaps at this day might have been an excellent botanist. For I know no study more congenial to my natural inclination than that of plants. The life I have led for these ten years past in the country, being little more than a continual herbalising, though I must confess without object and without improvement. But at the time I am now speaking of I had no inclination for botany. And may I even despised and was disgusted at the idea, considering it only as a fit study for an apothecary. My dam de Vérance was fond of it merely for this purpose, seeking none but common plants to use in her medical preparations. Thus botany, chemistry and anatomy were confounded in my idea under the general denomination of medicine, and served to furnish me with pleasant sarcasms the whole day, which procured me from time to time a box on the ear applied by maddam de Vérance. Besides this, a very contrarious taste grew up with me, and by degrees absorbed all others. This was music. I was certainly born for that science, I loved it from my infancy, and it was the only inclination I have constantly adhered to. And it is astonishing that what nature seemed to have designed me for should have cost me so much pains to learn, and that I should acquire it so slowly, that after a whole life spent in the practice of this art I could never attain to sing with any certainty at sight. What rendered the study of music more agreeable to me at that time was being able to practice it with maddam de Vérance. In other respects our tastes were widely different. This was a point of coincidence, which I loved to avail myself of. She had no more objection to this than myself. I knew at that time almost as much of it as she did, and after two or three efforts we could make shift to decipher an air. Sometimes when I saw her busy at the furnace I have said, Here now is a charming duet which seems made for the very purpose of spoiling your drugs.  Thus disputing I drew her to the harpsichord. The furnace was presently forgotten, the extract of juniper or wormwood calcined, which I cannot recollect without transport. And these scenes usually ended by her smearing my face with the remains of them. It may easily be conjectured that I had plenty of employment to fill up my leisure hours. One amusement, however, found room that was well worth all the rest. We lived in such a confined dungeon that it was necessary sometimes to breathe the open air. Anne therefore engaged Madame de Varence to hire a garden in the suburbs, both for this purpose and the convenience of rearing plants, etc. To this garden was added a summer house, which was furnished in the customary manner. We sometimes dined, and I frequently slept there. Insensibly I became attached to this little retreat, decorated it with books and prints, spending part of my time in ornamenting it during the absence of Madame de Varence, that I might surprise her the more agreeably on her return. Sometimes I quitted this dear friend, that I might enjoy the uninterrupted pleasure of thinking on her. This was a caprice I can neither excuse nor fully explain. I only know this really was the case, and therefore I avow it. I remember Madame de Luxembourg told me one day, in railery, of a man who used to leave his mistress, that he might enjoy the satisfaction of writing to her. I answered, I could have been this man. I might have added, that I had done the very same. I did not, however, find it necessary to leave Madame de Varence, that I might love her the more ardently, for I was ever as perfectly free with her as when alone. An advantage I never enjoyed with any other person, man or woman, however I might be attached to them. But she was so often surrounded by company, who were far from pleasing me, that spite and weariness drove me to this asylum, where I could indulge the idea without danger of being interrupted by impertinence. Thus my time being divided between business, pleasure and instruction, my life passed in the most absolute serenity. Europe was not equally tranquil. France and the Emperor had mutually declared war. The King of Sardinia had entered into the quarrel, and a French army had filed off into Piedmont to oar the Milanese. Our division passed through Chambéry, and among others the regiment of Champagne, whose colonel was the Duke de la Trémouie, to whom I was presented. He promised many things, but doubtless never more thought of me. Our little garden was exactly at the end of the suburb by which the troops entered, so that I could fully satisfy my curiosity in seeing them pass. And I became as anxious for the success of the war as if it had nearly concerned me. Till now I had never troubled myself about politics. For the first time I began reading the Gazettes, but with so much partiality on the side of France, that my heart beat with rapture on its most trifling advantages, and I was as much afflicted on a reverse of fortune as if I had been particularly concerned. Had this folly been transient, I should not perhaps have mentioned it, but it took such root in my heart, without any reasonable cause, that when I afterwards acted the anti-Despot and proud Republican at Paris, in spite of myself, I felt a secret pre-delection for the nation I declared servile, and for that government I affected to oppose. The pleasantest of all was that ashamed of an inclination so contrary to my professed maxims, I dared not own it to any one, but rallied the French on their defeats, while my heart was more wounded than their own. I am certainly the first man that living with a people who treated him well, and whom he almost adored, put on, even in their own country, a borrowed air of despising them. Yet my original inclination is so powerful, constant, disinterested, and invincible, that even since my quitting that kingdom, since its government, magistrates, and authors have outvied each other in rancour against me. Since it has become fashionable to load me with injustice and abuse, I have not been able to get rid of this folly, but not withstanding their ill treatment, love them, in spite of myself. I long sought the cause of this partiality, but was never able to find any, except in the occasion that gave it birth. A rising taste for literature attached me to French books, to their authors, and their country. At the very moment the French troops were passing Chambéry, I was reading Prentotme's celebrated captains.  In each regiment that passed by, me thought I saw those famous black bands, who had formerly done so many noble exploits in Piedmont. In fine I applied to these all the ideas I had gathered from books. My reading continued, which, still drawn from the same nation, nourished my affection for that country, till at length it became a blind passion, which nothing could overcome. I have had occasion to remark, several times in the course of my travels, that this impression was not peculiar to me for France, but was more or less active in every country, for that part of the nation who were fond of literature and cultivated learning, and it was this consideration that balanced in my mind the general hatred which the conceited heir of the French is so apt to inspire. Their romances, more than their men, attract the women of all countries, and the celebrated dramatic pieces of France create a fondness in youth for their theatres. The reputation which that of Paris in particular has acquired draws to it crowds of strangers, who return enthusiasts to their own country. In short, the excellence of their literature captivates the senses, and in the unfortunate war just ended, I have seen their authors and philosophers maintain the glory of France, so tarnished by its warriors. I was therefore an ardent Frenchman. This rendered me a politician, and I attended in the public square amid a throng of newsmongers, the arrival of the post, and sillier than the ass in the fable, was very uneasy to know whose pack-saddle I should next have the honour to carry, for it was then supposed we should belong to France, and that Savoy would be exchanged for Milan. I must confess, however, that I experienced some uneasiness, for had this war terminated unfortunately for the Allies, the penchant of Madame de Vérance would have been in a dangerous situation. Nevertheless I had great confidence in my good friends, the French, and for once, in spite of the surprise of Monsieur de Broglie, my confidence was not ill-founded, thanks to the King of Sardinia, whom I had never thought of. While we were fighting in Italy, they were singing in France. The operas of Ramoux began to make a noise there, and once more raised the credit of his theoretic works, which, from their obscurity, were within the compass of very few understandings. By chance I heard of his treatise on harmony, and had no rest till I purchased it. By another chance I fell sick. My illness was inflammatory, short, and violent. But my convalescence was tedious, for I was unable to go abroad for a whole month. During this time I eagerly ran over my treatise on harmony. But it was so long, so diffuse, and so badly disposed, that I found it would require a considerable time to unravel it. Accordingly I suspended my inclination, and recreated my sight with music. The cantatas of Bernier were what I principally exercised myself with. These were never out of my mind. I learned four or five by heart, and among the rest, the sleeping cupids, which I have never seen since that time, though I still retain it almost entirely, as well as cupid stung by a bee, a very pretty cantata by Cléran Bou, which I learned about the same time. To complete me there arrived a young organist from Val d'Ast called the Abbe Palais, a good musician and an agreeable companion, who performed very well on the harpsichord. I got acquainted with him, and we soon became inseparable. He had been brought up by an Italian monk, who was a capital organist. He explained to me his principles of music, which I compared with Ramon.  But as it was necessary to accustom the ear to all this, I proposed to Mme de Varence having a little concert once a month, to which she consented. End of Section 2. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazel, M. Sury. Section 3 of Confessions, Vol. 5 and 6. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. Confessions, Vol. 5 and 6 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Anonymously translated. Section 3. Behold me, then, so full of this concert, that night or day I could think of nothing else. And it actually employed a great part of my time to select the music, assemble the musicians, look to the instruments, and write out the several parts. Mme de Varence sang. Father Caton, whom I have before mentioned, and shall have occasion to speak of again, sang likewise. A dancing master named Roche, and his son, played on the violin. Cannava, a piedmontese musician, who was employed like myself in the survey, and has since married at Paris, played on the violoncello. The Abbe Palais performed on the harpsichord, and I had the honor to conduct the whole. It may be supposed all this was charming. I cannot say it equalled my concert at Monsieur de Très Torrance, but certainly it was not far behind it. This little concert, given by Mme de Varence, the new convert, who lived, it was expressed, on the king's charity, made the whole tribe of devotees murmur. But it was a very agreeable amusement to several worthy people, at the head of whom it would not be easily surmised that I should place a monk. Yet, though a monk, a man of considerable merit, and even of a very amiable disposition, whose subsequent misfortunes gave me the most lively concern, and whose idea, attached to that of my happy days, is yet dear to my memory. I speak of Father Catan, a cordelier, who, in conjunction with the Conte d'Artan, had caused the music of Pour le Maître to be seized at Lyon, which action was far from being the brightest Très in his history. He was a bachelor of Sarbanne, had lived long in Paris among the great world, and was particularly caressed by the Marquis d'Entremont, then ambassador from Sardinia. He was tall and well-made, full faced with very fine eyes and black hair, which formed natural curls on each side of his forehead. His manner was at once noble, open, and modest. He presented himself with ease and good manners, having neither the hypocritical nor impudent behaviour of a monk, nor the forward assurance of a fashionable coxcomb, but the manners of a well-bred man, who, without blushing for his habit, set of value on himself, and ever felt in his proper situation when in good company. Though Father Catan was not deeply studied for a doctor, he was much so for a man of the world, and not being compelled to show his talents, he brought them forward so advantageously that they appeared greater than they really were. Having lived much in the world, he had rather attached himself to agreeable acquirements than to solid learning, had sense, made verses, spoke well, sang better, and aided his good voice by playing on the organ and harpsichord. So many pleasing qualities were not necessary to make his company sought after, and accordingly it was very much so. But this did not make him neglect the duties of his function. He was chosen in spite of his jealous competitors, definitor of his province, or according to them one of the greatest pillars of their order. Father Catan became acquainted with Madame de Varence at the Marquis d'Entremonts. He had heard of her concerts, wished to assist at them, and by his company rendered our meetings truly agreeable. We were soon attached to each other by our mutual taste for music. Which in both was a most lively passion, with this difference, that he was really a musician, and myself a bungler. Sometimes assisted by Cannava and the Abbe Palais, we had music in his apartment, or on holidays at his organ, and frequently dined with him. For what was very astonishing in a monk, he was generous, profuse, and loved good cheer, without the least tincture of greediness. After our concerts he always used to state a supper, and these evenings passed with the greatest gaiety and good humour. We conversed with the utmost freedom, and sang duets. I was perfectly at my ease, had sallies of wit and merriment. Father Catan was charming, Madame de Varence adorable, and the Abbe Palais, with his half voice, was the butt of the company. Pleasing moments of sportive youth, how long since have ye fled? As I shall have no more occasion to speak of poor Father Catan, I will here conclude in a few words his melancholy history. His brother monks jealous, or rather exasperated to discover in him a merit and elegance of manners, which favoured nothing of monastic stupidity, conceived the most violent hatred to him, because he was not as despicable as themselves. The chiefs therefore combined against this worthy man, and set on the envious rabble of monks, who otherwise would not have dared to hazard the attack. He received a thousand indignities. They degraded him from his office, took away the apartment which he had furnished with elegant simplicity, and at length banished him. I know not wither. In short, these wretches overwhelmed him with so many evils that his honest and proud soul sank under the pressure. And after having been the delight of the most amiable societies, he died of grief, on a wretched bed, hid in some cell or dungeon, lamented by all worthy people of his acquaintance, who could find no fault in him except his being a monk. Accustomed to this manner of life for some time, I became so entirely attached to music that I could think of nothing else. I went to my business with disgust. The necessary confinement and acidity appeared an insupportable punishment, which I at length wished to relinquish, that I might give myself up without reserve to my favourite amusement. It will be readily believed that this folly met with some opposition, to give up a creditable employment and fixed salary, to run after uncertain scholars, was too giddy a plan to be approved of by Madame du Varrance. And even supposing my future success should prove as great as I flattered myself, it was fixing very humble limits to my ambition to think of reducing myself for life to the condition of a music master. She, who formed for me the brightest projects, and no longer trusted implicitly to the judgment of Monsieur Dubin, seeing with concern that I was so seriously occupied with a talent which she thought frivolous, frequently repeated to me that provincial proverb which does not hold quite so good in Paris. Qui bien chante et bien danse fait un métier qui peut avance. He who can sweetly sing and feakly dance, his interests right little shall advance. On the other hand, she saw me hurried away by this irresistible passion, my taste for music having become a few roar, and it was much to be feared that my employment, suffering by my distraction, might draw on me a discharge, which would be worse than a voluntary resignation. I represented to her that this employment could not last long, that it was necessary I should have some permanent means of subsistence, and that it would be much better to complete by practice the acquisition of that art to which my inclination led me, than to make fresh essays which possibly might not succeed. Since by this means, having passed the age most proper for improvement, I might be left without a single resource for gaining a livelihood. In short, I extorted her consent, more by importunity and caress it than by any satisfactory reasons. Proud of my success, I immediately ran to thank Monsieur Cocelli, director general of the survey, as though I had performed the most heroic action, and quitted my employment without cause, reason, or pretext, with as much pleasure as I had accepted it two years before. This step, ridiculous as it may appear, procured me a kind of consideration, which I found extremely useful. Some supposed I had resources which I did not possess, others seeing me totally given up to music, judged of my abilities by the sacrifice I had made, and concluded that with such a passion for the art, I must possess it in a superior degree. In a nation of blind men, those with one eye are kings. I passed here for an excellent master, because all the rest were very bad ones. Possessing taste in singing, and being favoured by my age and figure, I soon procured more scholars than were sufficient to compensate for the losses of my secretary's pay. It is certain that had it been reasonable to consider the pleasure of my situation only, it was impossible to pass more speedily from one extreme to the other. At our measuring, I was confined eight hours in the day to the most unentertaining employment, with yet more disagreeable company, shut up in a melancholy counting-house, empoisoned by the smell and respiration of a number of clowns, the major part of whom were ill-comed, and very dirty. What with attention, bad air, constraint, and weariness, I was sometimes so far overcome as to occasion a vertigo. Instead of this, behold me, admitted into the fashionable world, sought after in the first houses, and everywhere received with an air of satisfaction.   It must be allowed that reckoning all these advantages, no hesitation was necessary in the choice. In fact, I was so content with mine that I never once repented it. Nor do I even now, when free from the irrational motives that influenced me at that time, I weigh in the scale of reason every action of my life. End of Section 3 Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey Section 4 of Confessions, Vol. 5 and 6 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Geeson Confessions, Vol. 5 and 6 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau Anonymously Translated Section 4 This is perhaps the only time that listening to inclination, I was not deceived in my expectations. The easy access, obliging temper, and free humour of this country rendered a commerce with the world agreeable, and the inclination I then felt for it proves to me that if I have a dislike for society it is more their fault than mine. It is a pity the Savoyards are not rich, though perhaps it would be a still greater pity if they were so, for altogether they are the best, the most sociable people that I know, and if there is a little city in the world where the pleasures of life are experienced in an agreeable and friendly commerce, it is at Chambéry. The gentry of the province who assemble there have only sufficient wealth to live, and not enough to spoil them. They cannot give way to ambition, but follow through necessity the Council of Cineas, devoting their youth to a military employment, and returning home to grow old in peace, an arrangement over which honour and reason equally preside. The women are handsome, yet do not stand in need of beauty, since they possess all those qualifications which enhance its value, and even supply the want of it. It is remarkable that being obliged by my profession to see a number of young girls, I do not recollect one at Chambéry but what was charming. It will be said I was disposed to find them so, and perhaps there may be some truth in the semis. I cannot remember my young scholars without pleasure. Why, in naming the most amiable, cannot I recall them and myself also to that happy age in which our moments, pleasing as innocent, were passed with such happiness together. The first was Mademoiselle de Melared, my neighbour, and sister to a pupil of Monsieur Gemme. She was a fine, clear brunette, lively and graceful, without giddiness, thin, as girls of that age usually are, but her bright eyes, fine shape, and easy air rendered her sufficiently pleasing, with that degree of plumpness which would have given a heightening to her charms. I went there of mornings, when she was usually in her dizabé. Her hair carelessly turned up, and on my arrival ornamented with a flower, which was taken off at my departure for her hair to be dressed. There is nothing I fear so much as a pretty woman in an elegant dizabé. I should dread them a hundred times less in full dress. Mademoiselle de Monton, whom I attended in the afternoon, was ever so. She made an equally pleasing but quite different impression on me. Her hair was flaxen, her person delicate. She was very timid and extremely fair, had a clear voice, capable of just modulation, but which she had not courage to employ to its full extent. She had the mark of a scald on her bosom, which a scanty piece of blue chenille did not entirely cover. This scar sometimes drew my attention, though not absolutely on its own account. Mademoiselle de Chale, another of my neighbours, was a woman grown, tall, well-formed, jolly, very pleasing, though not a beauty, and might be quoted for her gracefulness, equal temper, and good humour. Her sister, Madame de Charly, the handsomest woman of Chambéry, did not learn music, but I taught her daughter, who was yet young, but whose growing beauty promised to equal her mother's, if she had not, unfortunately, been a little red-haired. I had likewise among my scholars a little French lady, whose name I have forgotten, but who merits a place in my list of preferences. She had adopted the slow, drawling tone of the nuns, in which voice she would utter some very keen things, which did not in the least appear to correspond with her manner. But she was indolent, and could not generally take pains to show her wit, that being a favour she did not grant to everyone. After a month or two of negligent attendance, this was an expedient she devised to make me more assiduous, for I could not easily persuade myself to be so. When with my scholars I was fond enough of teaching, but could not bear the idea of being obliged to attend at a particular hour.  I had some scholars likewise among the tradespeople, and among others one who was the indirect cause of a change of relationship, which, as I have promised to declare all, I must relate in its place. She was the daughter of a grocer, and was called Mademoiselle Larre, a perfect model for a Grecian statue, and whom I should quote for the handsomest girl I have ever seen, if true beauty could exist without life or soul. Her indolence, reserve, and insensibility were inconceivable. It was equally impossible to please or make her angry, and I am convinced that had anyone formed a design upon her virtue, he might have succeeded, not through her inclination, but from her stupidity. Her mother, who would run no risk of this, did not leave her a single moment. In having her taught to sing, and providing a young master, she had hoped to enliven her, but it all proved ineffectual. While the master was admiring the daughter, the mother was admiring the master. But this was equally lost labour. Mademoiselle Larre added to her natural vivacity that portion of sprightliness, which should have belonged to the daughter. She was a little ugly, lively trollop, with small, twinkling, ferret eyes, and marked with smallpox. On my arrival in the morning, I always found my coffee and cream ready, and the mother never failed to welcome me with a kiss on the lips, which I would willingly have returned the daughter to see how she would have received it. All this was done with such an air of carelessness and simplicity, that even when Monsieur Larre was present, her kisses and caresses were not omitted. He was a good, quiet fellow, the true original of his daughter, nor did his wife endeavour to deceive him, because there was absolutely no occasion for it. I received all these caresses with my usual stupidity, taking them only for marks of pure friendship, though they were sometimes troublesome. For the lively Madame Larre was displeased, if during the day I passed the shop without calling. It became necessary, therefore, when I had no time to spare, to go out of my way through another street, while knowing it was not so easy to quit her house as to enter it. Madame Larre thought so much of me that I could not avoid thinking something of her. Her attentions affected me greatly, and I spoke of them to Madame de Véranches, without supposing any mystery in the matter. But had there been one, I should equally have divulged it, for to have kept a secret of any kind from her would have been impossible. My heart lay as open to Madame de Véranches as to heaven. She did not understand the matter quite so simply as I had done, but saw advances where I only discovered friendship. She concluded that Madame Larre would make a point of not leaving me as great a fool as she found me, and some way or other can try to make herself understood. But exclusive of the consideration that it was not just that another should undertake the instruction of her pupil, she had motives more worthy of her, wishing to guard me against the snares to which my youth and inexperience exposed me. Meantime, a more dangerous temptation offered which I likewise escaped, but which proved to her that such a succession of dangers required every preservative she could possibly apply. The Contest du Monton, mother to one of my scholars, was a woman of great wit, and reckoned to possess at least an equal share of mischief, having, as was reported, caused a number of quarrels, and among others one that terminated fatally for the House of d'Entremont. Madame de Varence had seen enough of her to know her character, for having very innocently pleased some person to whom Madame de Monton had pretensions, she found her guilty of the crime of this preference. Though Madame de Varence had neither sought after nor accepted it, and from that moment endeavored to play her rival a number of ill terms, none of which succeeded, I shall relate one of the most whimsical by way of specimen. They were together in the country with several gentlemen of the neighborhood, and among the rest the lover in question. Madame de Monton took an opportunity to say to one of these gentlemen that Madame de Varence was a prude, that she dressed ill, and particularly that she covered her neck like a tradeswoman. Oh, for that matter replied the person she was speaking to who was fond of a joke. She has good reason, for I know she is marked with a great ugly rat on her bosom, so naturally that it even appears to be running. Hatred as well as love renders its votaries credulous. Madame de Monton resolved to make use of this discovery, and one day, while Madame de Varence was at cards with this lady's ungrateful favorite, she contrived, in passing behind her rival, almost to over-set the chair she sat on, and at the same instant, very dexterously displaced her handkerchief. But instead of this hideous rat, the gentleman beheld a far different object, which it was not more easy to forget than to obtain a sight of, and which by no means answered the intentions of the lady. I was not calculated to engross the attention of Madame de Monton, who loved to be surrounded by brilliant company. Notwithstanding, she bestowed some attention on me, not for the sake of my person, which she certainly did not regard, but for the reputation of wit which I had acquired, and which might have rendered me convenient to her predominant inclination. She had a very lively passion for ridicule, and loved to write songs and lampoons on those who displeased her. Had she found me possessed of sufficient talents to aid the fabrication of her verses, and complacence enough to do so, we should presently have turned Champéry upside down. These libles would have been traced to their source. Madame de Monton would have saved herself by sacrificing me, and I should have been cooped up in prison, perhaps for the rest of my life, as a recompense for having figured away as the Apollo of the ladies. Fortunately nothing of this kind happened. Madame de Monton made me stay for dinner two or three days to chat with me, and soon found I was too dull for her purpose. I felt this myself, and was humiliated at the discovery, envying the talents of my friend Venture, though I should rather have been obliged to my stupidity for keeping me out of the reach of danger. I remained, therefore, Madame de Monton's daughter's singing master, and nothing more. But I lived happily, and was ever well received at Champéry, which was a thousand times more desirable than passing for a wit with her, and for a serpent with everybody else. End of Section 4. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey. Section 5 of Confessions, Volumes 5 and 6. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen. Confessions, Volumes 5 and 6 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Anonymously translated. Section 5. However, this might be. Madame du Valse conceived it necessary to guard me from the perils of youth by treating me as a man. This she immediately set about, but in the most extraordinary manner that any woman in similar circumstances ever devised. I all at once observed that her manner was graver, and her discourse more moral than usual. To the playful gaiety with which she used to intermingle her instructions, suddenly succeeded an uniformity of manner, neither familiar nor severe. But which seemed to prepare me for some explanation. After having vainly wracked my brain for the reason of this change, I mentioned it to her. This she had expected, and immediately proposed a walk to our garden the next day. Accordingly, we went there the next morning. She had contrived that we should remain alone the whole day, which she employed in preparing me for those favours she meant to bestow. Not as another woman would have done by toying and folly, but by discourses full of sentiment and reason, rather tending to instruct than seduce, and which spoke more to my heart than to my senses. Meantime, however excellent and to the purpose these discourses might be, and though far enough from coldness or melancholy, I did not listen to them with all the attention they merited, nor fixed them in my memory as I should have done at any other time. That air of preparation which she had adopted gave me a degree of inquiritude. While she spoke, in spite of myself, I was thoughtful and absent, attending less to what she said than curious to know what she aimed at, and no sooner had I comprehended her design, which I could not easily do than the novelty of the idea, which during all the years I had passed with her had never once entered my imagination, took such entire possession of me that I was no longer capable of minding what she said. I only thought of her. I heard her no longer. Thinking to render young minds attentive to reason by proposing some highly interesting object as the result of it is an error instruct as frequently run into, and one which I have not avoided in my emil. The young pupil, struck with the object presented to him, is occupied only with that, and leaping lightly over your preliminary discourses, lights at once on the point to which, in his idea, you lead him too tediously. To render him attentive, he must be prevented from seeing the whole of your design, and in this particular Madame de Vrance did not act with sufficient precaution. By a singularity which adhered to her systematic disposition, she took the vain precaution of proposing conditions. But the moment I knew the purchase, I no longer even heard them, but immediately consented to everything. And I doubt whether there is a man on the whole earth who would have been sincere or courageous enough to dispute terms, or one single woman who would have pardoned such a dispute. By a continuation of the same whimsicality, she attached a number of the gravest formalities to the acquisition of her favours, and gave me eight days to think of them, which I assured her I had no need of, though that assurance was far from a truth. For to complete this assemblage of singularities, I was very glad to have this intermission. So much had the novelty of these ideas struck me, and such disorder did I feel in mine, that it required time to arrange them. It will be supposed that these eight days appeared to me as many ages. On the contrary, I should have been very glad had the time been lengthened. I find it difficult to describe the state I found myself in. It was a strange chaos of fear and impatience, dreading what I desired, and studying some civil pretext to evade my happiness. Let the warmth of my constitution be remembered, my age, and my heart intoxicated with love.  Let it be considered that I was only happy when with her. That my heart was full, not only of her bounty, of her amiable disposition, but of her shape, of her person, of herself. In a word conceive me united to her by every affinity that could possibly render her dear. Nor let it be supposed that being ten or twelve years older than myself, she began to grow an old woman, or was so in my opinion. From the time the first sight of her had made such an impression on me, she had really altered very little, and in my mind not at all. To me she was ever charming, and was still thought so by everyone. She had got something jollier, but had the same fine eyes, the same clear complexion, the same features, the same beautiful light hair, the same gaiety, and even the same voice, whose youthful and silvery sound made so lively an impression on my heart, that even to this day I cannot hear a young woman's voice that is at all harmonious, without emotion. It will be seen that in a more advanced age, the bare idea of some trifling favours I had to expect from the person I loved inflamed me so far that I could not support, with any degree of patience, the time necessary to traverse the short space that separated us. How, then, by what miracle, when in the flower of my youth had I so little impatience, for a happiness I had never tasted but in idea? How could I see the moment advancing, with more pain than pleasure? Why, instead of transports that should have intoxicated me with their deliciousness, did I experience only fears and repugnance? I have no doubt that if I could have avoided this happiness, with any degree of decency, I should have relinquished it with all my heart. I have promised a number of extravagances in the history of my attachment to her. This certainly is one that no idea could be formed of. The reader, already disgusted, supposes that being in the situation I have before described, with Claudagne, she was already degraded in my opinion by this participation of her favours, and that a sentiment of disestim weakened those she had before inspired me with. But he is mistaken. It is true that this participation gave me a cruel uneasiness, as well from a very natural sentiment of delicacy, as because it appeared unworthy, both of her and myself. But as to my sentiments for her, they were still the same, and I can solemnly aver that I never loved her more tenderly than when I felt so little propensity to avail myself of her condescension. I was too well acquainted with the chastity of her heart, and the iciness of her constitution, to suppose a moment that the gratification of the same sense had any influence over her. I was well convinced that her only motive was to guard me from dangers, which appeared otherwise inevitable, by this extraordinary favour, which she did not consider in the same light that women usually do, as will presently be explained. The habit of living a long time innocently together, far from weakening the first sentiments I felt for her, had contributed to strengthen them, giving a more lively, a more tender, but at the same time a less sensual turn to my affection. Having ever accustomed myself to call her mamar, as formerly observed, and enjoying the familiarity of a son, it became natural to consider myself as such, and I am inclined to think that this was the true reason of that insensibility with a person I so tenderly loved. For I can perfectly recollect that my emotions on first seeing her, though not more lively, were more voluptuous. At Annecy I was intoxicated. At Chambéry I possessed my reason. I always loved her as passionately as possible, but I now loved her more for herself, and less on my own account. Or at least I rather sought for happiness than pleasure in her company. She was more to me than a sister, a mother, a friend, or even than a mistress, and for this very reason she was not a mistress. In a word I loved her too much to desire her. This day, more dreaded than hoped for, at length arrived. I have before observed that I promised everything that was required of me, and I kept my word. My heart confirmed my engagements without desiring the fruits, though at length I obtained them. Was I happy? No. I felt I know not what invincible sadness which empoisoned my happiness. It seemed that I had committed an incest, and two or three times pressing her eagerly in my arms. I deluged her bosom with my tears. On her part, as she had never sought pleasure, she had not the stings of remorse. I repeated all her failings with the effect of her errors, never of her passions. She was well-born, her heart was pure, her manners noble, her desires regular and virtuous, her taste delicate. She seemed formed for that elegant purity of manners which she ever loved, but never practised. Because instead of listening to the dictates of her heart, she followed those of her reason which led her astray. For when once corrupted by false principles, it will ever run counter to its natural sentiments. Unhappily, she peaked herself on philosophy, and the morals she drew from thence clouded the genuine purity of her heart. Monsieur Tavel, her first lover, was also her instructor in this philosophy, and the principles he instilled into her mind were such as tended to seduce her. Finding her cold and impregnable on the side of her passions, and firmly attached to her husband and her duty, he attacked her by sophisms, endeavouring to prove that the list of duties she thought so sacred was but a sort of catechism fit only for children, that the kind of infidelity she thought so terrible was in itself absolutely indifferent, that all the morality of conjugal faith consisted in opinion, the contentment of husbands being the only reasonable rule of duty in wives, consequently that concealed infidelities doing no injury could be no crime. In a word he persuaded her that the sin consisted only in the scandal, that woman being really virtuous who took care to appear so. Thus the deceiver obtained his end in the subverting the reason of a girl, whose heart he found it impossible to corrupt, and received his punishment in a devouring jealousy, being persuaded she would treat him as he had prevailed on her to treat her husband. I don't know whether he was mistaken in this respect. The minister Perret passed for his successor. All I know is that the coldness of temperament which it might have been supposed would have kept her from embracing this system in the end prevented her from renouncing it. She could not conceive how so much importance should be given to what seemed to have none for her, nor could she honour with the name of virtue an abstinence which would have cost her little. She did not therefore give in to this false principle on her own account, but for the sake of others, and that from another maxim almost as false as the former, but more consonant to the generosity of her disposition. She was persuaded that nothing could attach a man so truly to any woman as an unbounded freedom, and though she was only susceptible of friendship, this friendship was so tender that she made use of every means which depended on her to secure the objects of it, and which is very extraordinary, almost always succeeded. For she was so truly amiable that an increase of intimacy was sure to discover additional reasons to love and respect her. Another thing worthy of remark is that after her first folly she only favoured the unfortunate. Lovers in a more brilliant station lost their labour with her, but the man who at first attracted her pity must have possessed very few good qualities if in the end he did not obtain her affection. Even when she made an unworthy choice, far from proceeding from base inclinations which were strangers to her noble heart, it was the effect of a disposition too generous, humane, compassionate, and sensible, which she did not always govern with sufficient discernment. End of Section 5 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey Section 6 of Confessions Volumes 5 and 6 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Martin Giesen Confessions Volumes 5 and 6 by Jean-Jacques Rousseau Anonymously Translated Section 6 If some false principles misled her, how many admirable ones did she not possess, which never forsook her? By how many virtues did she atone for her failings, if we can call by that name errors in which the senses had so little share? The man who in one particular deceived her so completely had given her excellent instructions in a thousand others, and her passions, being far from turbulent, permitted her to follow the dictates. She ever acted wisely when her sophisms did not intervene, and her designs were laudable even in her failings. False principles might lead her to do ill, but she never did anything which she conceived to be wrong. She abhorred lying and duplicity, was just equitable, humane, disinterested, true to her word, her friends, and those duties which she conceived to be such, incapable of hatred or revenge, and not even conceiving that there was a merit in pardoning. In fine, to return to those qualities which were less excusable, though she did not properly value, she never made a vile commerce of her favours. She lavished, but never sold them, though continually reduced to expedience for a subsistence. And I dare assert that if Socrates could esteem Aspasia, he would have respected Madame de Varence. I am well aware that ascribing sensibility of heart with coldness of temperament to the same person, I shall generally, and with great appearance of reason, be accused of a contradiction. Perhaps nature sported or blundered, and this combination ought not to have existed. I only know it did exist. All those who know Madame de Varence, a great number of whom are yet living, have had opportunities of knowing this was a fact. I dare even a ver she had but one pleasure in the world which was serving those she loved. Let everyone argue on the point as he pleases, and gravely prove that this cannot be. My business is to declare the truth, and not to enforce a belief of it. I became acquainted with the particulars I have just related in those conversations which succeeded our union, and alone rendered it delicious. She was right when she concluded her complacence would be useful to me. I derived great advantages from it in point of useful instruction. Here the two she had used me as a child. She now began to treat me as a man, and entertain me with accounts of herself. Everything she said was so interesting, and I was so sensibly touched with it, that reasoning with myself I applied these confidential relations to my own improvement, and received more instruction from them than from her teaching. When we truly feel that the heart speaks, our own opens to receive its instructions. Nor can all the pompous morality of a pedagogue have half the effect that is produced by the tender, affectionate and artless conversation of a sensible woman on him who loves her. The intimacy in which I lived with Madame de Varence, having placed me more advantageously in her opinion than formally, she began to think, not withstanding my awkward manner, that I deserved cultivation for the polite world, and that if I could one day show myself there in an eligible situation, I should soon be able to make my way. In consequence of this idea, she set about forming not only my judgment, but my address, endeavouring to render me amiable as well as estimable. And if it is true that success in this world is consistent with strict virtue, which for my part I do not believe, I am certain there is no other road than that she had taken, and wished to point out to me. For Madame de Varence knew mankind, and understood exquisitely well the art of treating all ranks, without falsehood and without imprudence, neither deceiving nor provoking them. But this art was rather in her disposition than her precepts. She knew better how to practice than explain it. And I was of all the world the least calculated to become master of such an attainment. Accordingly, the means employed for this purpose were nearly lost labour, as well as the pains she took to procure me a fencing and a dancing master. Though very well made, I could never learn to dance a minuet. For being plagued with corns, I had acquired a habit of walking on my heels, which hush, the dancing master, could never break me of. It was still worse at the fencing school, where after three months practice I made but very little progress, and could never attempt fencing with any but my master. My wrist was not supple enough, nor my arm sufficiently firm to retain the foil, whenever he chose to make it fly out of my hand. Add to this I had a mortal a version, both to the art itself, and to the person who undertook to teach it to me. Nor should I ever have imagined that anyone could have been so proud of the science of sending men out of the world. To bring this vast genius within the compass of my comprehension, he explained himself by comparisons drawn from music, which he understood nothing of. He found striking analogies between a hit in carte, or tierce, with the intervals of music which bear those names. When he made a faint, he cried out, take care of this diocese, because anciently they called the diocese a faint. And when he had made the foil fly from my hand, he would add with a sneer that this was a pause. In a word I never in my life saw a more insupportable pedant. I made therefore but little progress in my exercises, which I presently quitted from pure disgust. But I succeeded better in an art of a thousand times more value, namely that of being content with my situation, and not desiring one more brilliant, for which I began to be persuaded that nature had not designed me. Given up to the endeavour of rendering Madame Duvarras happy, I was ever best pleased when in her company, and notwithstanding my fondness for music, began to grudge the time I employed in giving lessons to my scholars. I am ignorant whether Anne perceived the full extent of our union, but I am inclined to think he was no stranger to it. He was a young man of great penetration, and still greater discretion, who never belied his sentiments, but did not always speak them. Without giving me the least hint that he was acquainted with our intimacy, he appeared by his conduct to be so. Nor did this moderation proceed from baseness of soul, but having entered entirely into the principles of his mistress, he could not reasonably disapprove of the natural consequences of them. Though as young as herself, he was so grave and thoughtful that he looked on us as two children who required indulgence, and we regarded him as a respectable man whose esteem we had to preserve. It was not until after she was unfaithful to Anne that I learned the strength of her attachment to him. She was fully sensible that I only thought, felt, or lived for her. She let me see, therefore, how much she loved Anne, that I might love him likewise, and dwell less on her friendship than on her esteem for him, because this was the sentiment that I could most fully partake of. How often has she affected our hearts, and made us embrace with tears, by assuring us that we were both necessary to her happiness. Let not women read this with an ill-natured smile. With the temperament she possessed, this necessity was not equivocal. It was only that of the heart. Thus there was established among us three a union without example, perhaps, on the face of the earth. All our wishes, our cares, our very hearts were for each other, and absolutely confined to this little circle. The habit of living together, and living exclusively from the rest of the world, became so strong that if at our repasts one of the three was wanting, or a fourth person came in, everything seemed deranged, and notwithstanding our particular attachments, even our tet-a-tet were less agreeable than our reunion. What banished every species of constraint from our little community was a lively, reciprocal confidence, and dullness or incipidity could find no place among us, because we were always fully employed. Madame de Varence, always projecting, always busy, left us no time for idleness, though indeed we had each sufficient employment on our own account. It is my maxim that idleness is as much the pest of society as of solitude. Nothing more contracts the mind, or engenders more tales mischief, gossiping, and lies, than for people to be eternally shut up in the same apartment together, and reduced from the want of employment to the necessity of an incessant chat. When every one is busy, unless you have really something to say, you may continue silent. But if you have nothing to do, you must absolutely speak continually, and this in my mind is the most burdensome and the most dangerous constraint. I will go further, and maintain that to render company harmless, as well as agreeable, it is necessary not only that they should have something to do, but something that requires a degree of attention. Knitting, for instance, is absolutely as bad as doing nothing. You must take as much pains to amuse a woman whose fingers are thus employed, as if she sat with her arms crossed. But let her embroider, and it is a different matter. She is then so far busyed, that a few intervals of silence may be born with.  What a charming occupation. Such people, wherever they go, must be troublesome both to others and themselves. When I was at Moutier, I used to employ myself in making laces with my neighbours, and where I again too mix with the world, I would always carry a cup and ball in my pocket. I should sometimes play with it the whole day, that I might not be constrained to speak, when I had nothing to discourse about. And I am persuaded that if everyone would do the same, mankind would be less mischievous, their company would become more rational, and in my opinion a vast deal more agreeable. In a word, let wits laugh if they please, but I maintain that the only practical lesson of morality within the reach of the present age is that of the cup and ball. End of section 6. Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmere Surrey


Hey there friends, thanks for checking in. Think about it Thursday. What have I been thinking about? I have been thinking about so many incredible handguns that were very popular high demand pistols that all of a sudden became discontinued. Why does that happen? We tend to think that they get discontinued because of a lack of sales or the parts are too much or import issues, but a lot of times it's bad management. You look at the Hudson H9, that was the hottest gun about five years ago. It was on fire and then all of a sudden when they were selling a bunch they had financial issues and all of a sudden they're gone. If you own a Hudson H9, good luck getting it serviced. It's going to be near impossible and don't even think about getting the parts for it. You look at Honor Guard. Honor Guard was somewhat popular. I think the gun world treated Honor Guard very poorly. Yes, it had some drop safe issues, but so did the Sig P320 and that's still around. That's the difference behind a big financial backing versus a family making guns out of their garage trying to get into a very competitive market. But I also want to show you this one because I believe you forgot about it and I still own it. It was extremely popular in 2019 when it first released and that is the narrow arms and one. It's a seven round staggered stack that is hammer fired. People said well that's nothing but a shield copy, but really it's not. If you look at some of the things it offers it has that aluminum trigger there. It is hammer fired. It's got very smooth slide action with almost full length frame rails and it came out the gate and people were like wow I need to get my hands on this. A couple years later it's gone. Where'd it go? Nobody knows. The company started out in 2013 making parts for the industry of the gun industry and then they came out their own handgun and within a short time it was gone very competitive, extremely. And then you look at this one. This was quietly discontinued and that's the Springfield 911. They made it in 380. This one's a nine millimeter very small three inch barrel aluminum frame, 1911 light controls. It met the needs of so many people and they said well maybe SIG outperformed them and they no longer found it profitable to keep that gun going. Well perhaps so but this went into competition with SIG. They made it less expensive and used the same magazines. Well their version but it fits in both handguns. The SIG 938 and this but nonetheless pocket carry people would do that. It's a nice shooting handgun, tritium front sight. It met everything that a lot of shooters want.  I want a hammer fire gun and this seemed to fit the needs but it must not have been selling. Parts may have been backorder or they discontinued it in favor of the Ronin EMP subcompact combination package that Springfield came out with and I think that has become popular as well. This one I believe shocked the world. It's in 45 ACP. It certainly shocked me. I'm so happy I got my hands on it before it got discontinued and that is the CZ 97 BD. Many people claim this is the best double action single action 45 ACP handgun out there and they discontinued it. Why did they discontinue it? It must have been a lack of sales right? Well if you think about it the CZ family now with Colt and Dan Wesson they make a lot of 45 ACPs primarily in 9mm. I checked that correction primarily in 45 ACP and so was this being overshadowed by some of those other ones? The thousand dollar gun used to be 800 but a lot of times when a firearm is discontinued it raises in cost especially on the used market. You look at what happened with the Browning High Power that was very widely known. I don't think a lot of people were buying that. Browning discontinued it.  I think it'll plateau at a certain level because many people want the original. I have that one as well and then this other one this will be my last one is another CZ that I think disappointed a lot of people because they love it. They say that is a great handgun and it was at one time CZ's smallest handgun the 2075 Rami. You couldn't go into a gun store see that gun on this shelf and then come back the next day and expect it to be there. You couldn't do that because it was gone. Were there import issues? Was it a parts issue? Was it a lack of sales issue? Was it bad management with this division of CZ? Nobody knows but the CZ 2075 that was so highly regarded many people still carry this. I get that feedback and then all of a sudden it's discontinued. They started out production on a limited basis and then said we're done we're not going to sell that gun anymore and so we see some of these handguns that are so highly desired. They're up on top of the charts. We see them up on the mountain and next thing you know they're down in the valley. You don't hear about them anymore. What happened? Bad management like the Hudson H9 or drop safe issues or were there hidden problems within the gun that nobody was really able to tell? These four handguns that I just showed are fine handguns and at one time the Hudson H9 people were raving about it and that was gone as well and I'm sure we'll see many more in the future. Just look at what happened to the Remington handguns especially the 1911 perform incredibly well. So I think about it Thursday. I've been thinking about this. I wanted to share that with you and get your thoughts as to why a gun that could be so high at one point becomes the low end of the valley. If you like videos like this please subscribe and share. I always appreciate thumbs up button. Thanks for watching and you guys be safe.


In 1998, America took its first stab at Godzilla. It was big, it was loud, it was dumb, it was over long, it had unlikable characters, and it was an all-around disaster in the worst way possible. And yet, I think I would rather go back and watch that than the Godzilla minus one film I just left.  Or you can stick around, subscribe to the channel. I post tons of honest movie reviews, criticisms, fun roasts, things of that nature. Every single week, multiple times, would love to have you stick around. If you're listening on a podcast version, that's fine too. Spotify, Apple, podcast, all that stuff. Let's get into it though. This is gonna be spoiler free, and I just want to say, I want to get it all out there, okay?  I'm a movie fan. I like watching movies. I did not grow up on Godzilla. I've only seen bits and pieces of the OG stuff. I saw one of the movies not that long ago for a different channel, Hack the Movies, which is great. That was for a podcast on Godzilla, and it was the worst Godzilla movie. It was the one with the superhero dude who looks like a power ranger. That'll be enough for some of you to understand. And for the rest of you, you're in the same boat as me, obviously. You're not that familiar. I've seen the American versions. They range from pretty cool to downright awful. And then we have this new one that I was honestly really excited for, just a month back when I finally saw a trailer for the first time. I don't know where this thing was kept, how it was so secretive, but when those trailers dropped, I was really impressed. And I showed my kids, and they were super pumped for it. I am still thankful that I went by myself for the first time. I thought, you know what? I could take the kids out, pay like 50 or 60 bucks for us to see a single movie, which is freaking absurd what the prices are. And we'll probably have a decent time, or I could just go by myself, since I have a regal pass, so it's free basically. And if the movie's great, then I'll bring them out there and we'll go again. I'll see it twice if it's great. I saved a lot of money and a lot of personal heartache, because I couldn't sit through this movie again. It is a slog. And it's not some smart slog that has interesting likable characters building into a great crescendo. No! It's just bad. And let me explain why. This will be spoiler free. There's not going to be any giveaways here about Godzilla turning into Mothra or something crazy. That doesn't happen. But this movie is post-war Japan. We have a Kamikaze pilot who's down on his luck because he didn't, in fact, Kamikaze himself. You had one job, dude. You had one job. He chickens out right away when the movie starts up and he gets his first appearance of Godzilla, and it doesn't go over well. He's not thrilled about what he's seeing. As an aside, Kamikaze pilots, that's one of the few, I would say, professions you really can't fake, right? You walk into the house and the wife's like, hey, how was work today? It was okay. It wasn't bad. Oh, really? So you didn't get fired, huh? Because you're still here. So obviously, not great at your job.  So yeah, he's kind of ashamed. He's discouraged. He's disappointed in himself. And this character, I have the name in front of me, and I'm still going to butcher it. Koichi Shikishima, I apologize to everyone, both English-speaking and Japanese-speaking, for what I just said. That is the main protagonist in some fashion of those letters being pronounced. English is barely a good language for me to speak. He is miserable. I don't like this character. He's constantly chips are down. He's constantly like making bad decisions or sometimes they're actually good decisions, but he thinks they're bad. It's just not a pleasant character to watch. And his arc is so cliche and predictable that it's just like, what are we doing here? This is the best we could conjure up. And now some people are saying, hey, Adam, what are you expecting, Citizen Kane? You know, the old cliched argument back that's lame and it's pointless. No, obviously I'm not expecting that.  What I have here is some decent destruction on occasion with some very top-notch special effects. I will say the CG in this movie is damn good. It looks great. And don't let my negativity get you down. If you want to see this movie, you can expect some really cool visuals. You can expect a pretty bad-ass design of Godzilla. Obviously hearkens back to the OG, but it's not a guy in a costume, which is nice. But I just, I can't see anyone really getting on board with the story or the characters. And the effects and the explosions are cool a little bit, but they're not there that long. And we've seen this a billion times, so it's not really holding much weight. There is one sequence that I think is pretty great. And that's when they're out on the ocean and they're kind of doing this Jaws-esque scenario where they're dropping bombs and they're trying to kill this sucker. And it's not going well, obviously. That part's great. It looks really cool. There's a couple underwater camera shots that I think are fantastic. And it gives you this kind of scary vibe. And I wish they would have actually gone with that. Instead of just a one-off camera shot from an ocean perspective, take me down there a little bit. Get me in the mindset of Godzilla. As it stands, Godzilla is just a one-dimensional creature that destroys stuff. And he walks to the next thing and blows it up. It's mindless. It has no agenda. It has no motive, which can be cool and scary, but there's no real build-up to him ever. He's just there. Like a guy's drinking a cup of coffee. He turns around. He's like, oh my God, Godzilla's right there. And Godzilla's like smoking a cig. Oh, hey.   That didn't bother me too much. It's just the pacing's really bad. And when you do finally build into a sequence that's going to be great, you've kind of exhausted all your excitement getting to it. And there isn't this awesome build into any final conflict that worked for me. There's no big rousing. They tried. They tried with the rousing speech. They tried to get you into that mood, but I just couldn't shift gears. I was already so checked out at that point. Music, obviously it's a range from the old stuff harkening back to the original again to a more modernized hit or two. Other supporting characters are serviceable. They're fine. They all look good. They play their part fine. The main lead though is just a sad sack and not one that grows in a direction that's really compelling, which is unfortunate. And there's a lot of downtime. There's a lot of war-torn hero stuff. There's a lot of baggage about the war and not so much about Godzilla.  It's a big Debbie downer for me. I'm thinking about their positives. Nothing's really setting in. Obviously, since this is both a modern version of Godzilla and a tip of the hat throwback, we do have a marrying of effects and movements. It's most noticeable when Godzilla's walking around. He's very lumber-y, kind of almost silly at times as he's walking, but then he's doing badass power-up things where his blades are coming up.  And then he just wanders off again. He's like, hey, I'm good. I'm going to leave. And if that's your cup of tea, that's your cup of tea and that's cool. That's good for you. The trailers really hyped me up, which is their job, but they presented a package that I just did not see on the screen. I felt a little bit lied to. I didn't know what the story was. I imagined it was going to be a little bit more interesting than it was. They had a decent idea. Okay. I kind of like the idea of a war-torn kamikaze pilot having to make amends with himself and to please those around them but fight his own internal war. That, on paper, that sounds really good, but how they played it off just did not jive with me. And maybe it will for you. I haven't seen any other reviews. I don't know the buzz for this movie going in. I might be completely off base with the majority of people. It's happened before. I just wanted to let you know what to expect because at the end of the day, that's how I'm trying to do reviews now. I give you my honest opinion, leaving the theater, and while I'm there, like, okay, I'm sitting down. I'm excited for this movie. The first act, the first 15 minutes, pretty cool, pretty bold. I like this direction. And then, bam, it hits a wall and it slows down. And then it slows down more. And then there's some weird editing choices where they fade away from shots and they cut things quickly. And then, okay, we're back into a somewhat decent action sequence, but then, boom, a wall again.  There's nothing worse than listening to kids cry. And this kid cries a few times in the movie.  Why am I listening to a kid cry when there's an awesome freaking lizard creature swimming around in the ocean? Also, this is probably a throwback.  I think that's what's happening. The dude's in the middle of the ocean and he's chest deep. I know the guy's tall, but it looks like he's standing on a small like sandbar in the middle of the ocean. He's like, the water's up to his belly button. Sometimes it's up to his shins and he's in the middle of the freaking Pacific or Atlantic. I don't know where oceans are. I don't know what they're called. I'm ignorant.  Subscribe. No, seriously though, it looks weird. So maybe Godzilla can float. Otherwise, it's just a really weird old school throwback. And I found it very jarring in the worst way possible. Okay, that's it. I don't need to say anything else. Otherwise, I'm going to ramble in a spoiled territory. And honestly, there's not much to spoil. You can see everything coming a mile away, but those are my thoughts. Let me know if you saw this movie. Please put a comment down if you're on YouTube. Please subscribe again if you haven't. Post tons of movie reviews. Movie roasts, live streams, twice a week. Just talking movies, loving the conversations. It's a good time. I'd love you to have me. I'd love for you to stick around. Well, I would love for you to have me into your life. Let me in. Just say, hey, Adam, why don't you open the door and come on and sit down? We'll talk movies together. What a weird way to end this thing. Okay, thanks for listening and watching. And hopefully I see you next time. Take care.