I hesitate, from the apprehension of ridicule, when I approach the
delicate subject of my early love. By this word I do not mean the
polite attention, the gallantry, without hope or design, which has
originated in the spirit of chivalry and is interwoven with the
texture of French manners. I understand by this passion the union of
desire, friendship and tenderness, which is inflamed by a single
female, which prefers her to the rest of her sex, and which seeks her
possession as the supreme or the sole happiness of our being. I need
not blush at recollecting the object of my choice; and tho my love was
disappointed of success, I am rather proud that I was once capable of
feeling such a pure and exalted sentiment.
The personal attractions of Mademoiselle Susan Curchod were
embellished by the virtues and talents of the mind. Her fortune was
humble, but her family was respectable. Her mother, a native of
France, had preferred her religion to her country. The profession of
her father did not extinguish the moderation and philosophy of his
temper, and he lived content, with a small salary and laborious duty,
in the obscure lot of minister of Crassy, in the mountains that
separate the Pays de Vaud from the county of Burgundy. In the solitude
of a sequestered village he bestowed a liberal and even learned
education on his only daughter. She surpassed his hopes by her
proficiency in the sciences and languages; and in her short visits to
some relations at Lausanne, the wit, the beauty and erudition of
Mademoiselle Curchod were the theme of universal applause.
The report of such a prodigy awakened my curiosity; I saw and loved. I
found her learned without pedantry, lively in conversation, pure in
sentiment, and elegant in manners; and the first sudden emotion was
fortified by the habits and knowledge of a more familiar acquaintance.
She permitted me to make her two or three visits at her father's
house. I passed some happy days there, in the mountains of Burgundy,
and her parents honorably encouraged the connection. In a calm
retirement the gay vanity of youth no longer fluttered in her bosom;
she listened to the voice of truth and passion; and I might presume to
hope that I had made some impression on a virtuous heart. At Crassy
and Lausanne I indulged my dream of felicity: but on my return to
England, I soon discovered that my father would not hear of this
strange alliance, and that without his consent I was myself destitute
and helpless. After a painful struggle I yielded to my fate: I sighed
as a lover, I obeyed as a son; my wound was insensibly healed by time,
absence, and the habits of a new life. My cure was accelerated by a
faithful report of the tranquillity and cheerfulness of the lady
herself; and my love subsided in friendship and esteem.
The minister of Crassy soon afterward died; his stipend died with him;
his daughter retired to Geneva, where, by teaching young ladies, she
earned a hard subsistence for herself and her mother; but in her
lowest distress she maintained a spotless reputation, and a dignified
behavior. A rich banker of Paris, a citizen of Geneva, had the good
fortune and good sense to discover and possess this inestimable
treasure; and in the capital of taste and luxury she resisted the
temptations of wealth, as she had sustained the hardships of
indigence. The genius of her husband has exalted him to the most
conspicuous station in Europe. In every change of prosperity and
disgrace he has reclined on the bosom of a faithful friend; and
Mademoiselle Curchod is now the wife of M. Necker,[65] the minister,
and perhaps the legislator, of the French monarchy.