sickness or idleness, or mere idle reading; that I condemned the
perverse method of our schoolmasters, who, by first teaching the
mother-language, might descend with so much ease and perspicuity to
the origin and etymology of a derivative idiom. In the nineteenth
year of my age I determined to supply this defect; and the lessons
of Pavilliard again contributed to smooth the entrance of the way,
the Greek alphabet, the grammar, and the pronunciation according to
the French accent. At my earnest request we presumed to open the
Iliad; and I had the pleasure of beholding, though darkly and
through a glass, the true image of Homer, whom I had long since
admired in an English dress. After my tutor had left me to myself,
I worked my way through about half the Iliad, and afterwards
interpreted alone a large portion of Xenophon and Herodotus. But my
ardour, destitute of aid and emulation, was gradually cooled, and,
from the barren task of searching words in a lexicon, I withdrew to
the free and familiar conversation of Virgil and Tacitus. Yet in my
residence at Lausanne I had laid a solid foundation, which enabled
me, in a more propitious season, to prosecute the study of Grecian
literature.
From a blind idea of the usefulness of such abstract science, my
father had been desirous, and even pressing, that I should devote
some time to the mathematics; nor could I refuse to comply with so
reasonable a wish. During two winters I attended the private
lectures of Monsieur de Traytorrens, who explained the elements of
algebra and geometry, as far as the conic sections of the Marquis de
l'Hopital, and appeared satisfied with my diligence and improvement.
But as my childish propensity for numbers and calculations was
totally extinct, I was content to receive the passive impression of
my Professor's lectures, without any active exercise of my own
powers. As soon as I understood the principles, I relinquished for
ever the pursuit of the mathematics; nor can I lament that I
desisted, before my mind was hardened by the habit of rigid
demonstration, so destructive of the finer feelings of moral
evidence, which must, however, determine the actions and opinions of
our lives. I listened with more pleasure to the proposal of
studying the law of nature and nations, which was taught in the
academy of Lausanne by Mr. Vicat, a professor of some learning and
reputation. But instead of attending his public or private course,
I preferred in my closet the lessons of his masters, and my own
reason. Without being disgusted by Grotius or Puffendorf, I studied
in their writings the duties of a man, the rights of a citizen, the
theory of justice (it is, alas! a theory), and the laws of peace and
war, which have had some influence on the practice of modern Europe.
My fatigues were alleviated by the good sense of their commentator
Barbeyrac. Locke's Treatise of Government instructed me in the
knowledge of Whig principles, which are rather founded in reason
than experience; but my delight was in the frequent perusal of
Montesquieu, whose energy of style, and boldness of hypothesis, were
powerful to awaken and stimulate the genius of the age. The logic
of De Crousaz had prepared me to engage with his master Locke and
his antagonist Bayle; of whom the former may be used as a bridle,
and the latter applied as a spur, to the curiosity of a young
philosopher. According to the nature of their respective works, the
schools of argument and objection, I carefully went through the
Essay on Human Understanding, and occasionally consulted the most
interesting articles of the Philosophic Dictionary. In the infancy
of my reason I turned over, as an idle amusement, the most serious
and important treatise: in its maturity, the most trifling
performance could exercise my taste or judgment, and more than once
I have been led by a novel into a deep and instructive train of
thinking. But I cannot forbear to mention three particular books,
since they may have remotely contributed to form the historian of
the Roman empire. 1. From the Provincial Letters of Pascal, which
almost every year I have perused with new pleasure, I learned to
manage the weapon of grave and temperate irony, even on subjects of
ecclesiastical solemnity. 2. The Life of Julian, by the Abbe de la
Bleterie, first introduced me to the man and the times; and I should
be glad to recover my first essay on the truth of the miracle which
stopped the rebuilding of the Temple of Jerusalem. 3. In Giannone's
Civil History of Naples I observed with a critical eye the progress
and abuse of sacerdotal power, and the revolutions of Italy in the
darker ages. This various reading, which I now conducted with
discretion, was digested, according to the precept and model of Mr.
Locke, into a large common-place book; a practice, however, which I
do not strenuously recommend. The action of the pen will doubtless
imprint an idea on the mind as well as on the paper: but I much
question whether the benefits of this laborious method are adequate
to the waste of time; and I must agree with Dr. Johnson, (Idler, No.
74.) "that what is twice read, is commonly better remembered, than
what is transcribed."
During two years, if I forget some boyish excursions of a day or a
week, I was fixed at Lausanne; but at the end of the third summer,
my father consented that I should make the tour of Switzerland with
Pavilliard: and our short absence of one month (Sept. 21st--Oct.
20th, 1755) was a reward and relaxation of my assiduous studies.
The fashion of climbing the mountains and reviewing the Glaciers,
had not yet been introduced by foreign travellers, who seek the
sublime beauties of nature. But the political face of the country
is not less diversified by the forms and spirit of so many various
republics, from the jealous government of the few to the licentious
freedom of the many. I contemplated with pleasure the new prospects
of men and manners; though my conversation with the natives would
have been more free and instructive, had I possessed the German, as
well as the French language. We passed through most of the
principal towns of Switzerland; Neufchatel, Bienne, Soleurre, Arau,
Baden, Zurich, Basil, and Berne. In every place we visited the
churches, arsenals, libraries, and all the most eminent persons; and
after my return, I digested my notes in fourteen or fifteen sheets
of a French journal, which I dispatched to my father, as a proof
that my time and his money had not been mis-spent. Had I found this
journal among his papers, I might be tempted to select some
passages; but I will not transcribe the printed accounts, and it may
be sufficient to notice a remarkable spot, which left a deep and
lasting impression on my memory. From Zurich we proceeded to the
Benedictine Abbey of Einfidlen, snore commonly styled Our Lady of
the Hermits. I was astonished by the profuse ostentation of riches
in the poorest corner of Europe; amidst a savage scene of woods and
mountains, a palace appears to have been erected by magic; and it
was erected by the potent magic of religion. A crowd of palmers and
votaries was prostrate before the altar. The title and worship of
the Mother of God provoked my indignation; and the lively naked
image of superstition suggested to me, as in the same place it had
done to Zuinglius, the most pressing argument for the reformation of
the church. About two years after this tour, I passed at Geneva a
useful and agreeable month; but this excursion, and short visits in
the Pays de Vaud, did not materially interrupt my studious and
sedentary life at Lausanne.
My thirst of improvement, and the languid state of science at
Lausanne, soon prompted me to solicit a literary correspondence with
several men of learning, whom I had not an opportunity of personally
consulting. 1. In the perusal of Livy, (xxx. 44,) I had been
stopped by a sentence in a speech of Hannibal, which cannot be
reconciled by any torture with his character or argument. The
commentators dissemble, or confess their perplexity. It occurred to
me, that the change of a single letter, by substituting otio instead
of odio, might restore a clear and consistent sense; but I wished to
weigh my emendation in scales less partial than my own. I addressed
myself to M. Crevier, the successor of Rollin, and a professor in
the university of Paris, who had published a large and valuable
edition of Livy. His answer was speedy and polite; he praised my
ingenuity, and adopted my conjecture. 2. I maintained a Latin
correspondence, at first anonymous, and afterwards in my own name,
with Professor Breitinger of Zurich, the learned editor of a
Septuagint Bible. In our frequent letters we discussed many
questions of antiquity, many passages of the Latin classics. I
proposed my interpretations and amendments. His censures, for he
did not spare my boldness of conjecture, were sharp and strong; and
I was encouraged by the consciousness of my strength, when I could
stand in free debate against a critic of such eminence and
erudition. 3. I corresponded on similar topics with the celebrated
Professor Matthew Gesner, of the university of Gottingen; and he
accepted, as courteously as the two former, the invitation of an
unknown youth. But his abilities might possibly be decayed; his
elaborate letters were feeble and prolix; and when I asked his
proper direction, the vain old man covered half a sheet of paper
with the foolish enumeration of his titles and offices. 4. These
Professors of Paris, Zurich, and Gottingen, were strangers, whom I
presumed to address on the credit of their name; but Mr. Allamand,
Minister at Bex, was my personal friend, with whom I maintained a
more free and interesting correspondence. He was a master of
language, of science, and, above all, of dispute; and his acute and
flexible logic could support, with equal address, and perhaps with
equal indifference, the adverse sides of every possible question.
His spirit was active, but his pen had been indolent. Mr. Allamand
had exposed himself to much scandal and reproach, by an anonymous
letter (1745) to the Protestants of France; in which he labours to
persuade them that public worship is the exclusive right and duty of
the state, and that their numerous assemblies of dissenters and
rebels were not authorized by the law or the gospel. His style is
animated, his arguments specious; and if the papist may seem to lurk
under the mask of a protestant, the philosopher is concealed under
the disguise of a papist. After some trials in France and Holland,
which were defeated by his fortune or his character, a genius that
might have enlightened or deluded the world, was buried in a country
living, unknown to fame, and discontented with mankind. Est
sacrificulus in pago, et rusticos decipit. As often as private or
ecclesiastical business called him to Lausanne, I enjoyed the
pleasure and benefit of his conversation, and we were mutually
flattered by our attention to each other. Our correspondence, in
his absence, chiefly turned on Locke's metaphysics, which he
attacked, and I defended; the origin of ideas, the principles of
evidence, and the doctrine of liberty;
And found no end, in wandering mazes lost.
By fencing with so skilful a master, I acquired some dexterity in
the use of my philosophic weapons; but I was still the slave of
education and prejudice. He had some measures to keep; and I much
suspect that he never showed me the true colours of his secret
scepticism.
Before I was recalled from Switzerland, I had the satisfaction of
seeing the most extraordinary man of the age; a poet, an historian,
a philosopher, who has filled thirty quartos, of prose and verse,
with his various productions, often excellent, and always
entertaining. Need I add the name of Voltaire? After forfeiting, by
his own misconduct, the friendship of the first of kings, he
retired, at the age of sixty, with a plentiful fortune, to a free
and beautiful country, and resided two winters (1757 and 1758) in
the town or neighbourhood of Lausanne. My desire of beholding
Voltaire, whom I then rated above his real magnitude, was easily
gratified. He received me with civility as an English youth; but I
cannot boast of any peculiar notice or distinction, Virgilium vidi
tantum.
The ode which he composed on his first arrival on the banks of the
Leman Lake, O Maison d'Aristippe! O Jardin d'Epicure, &c. had been
imparted as a secret to the gentleman by whom I was introduced. He
allowed me to read it twice; I knew it by heart; and as my
discretion was not equal to my memory, the author was soon
displeased by the circulation of a copy. In writing this trivial
anecdote, I wished to observe whether my memory was impaired, and I
have the comfort of finding that every line of the poem is still
engraved in fresh and indelible characters. The highest
gratification which I derived from Voltaire's residence at Lausanne,
was the uncommon circumstance of hearing a great poet declaim his
own productions on the stage. He had formed a company of gentlemen
and ladies, some of whom were not destitute of talents. A decent
theatre was framed at Monrepos, a country-house at the end of a
suburb; dresses and scenes were provided at the expense of the
actors; and the author directed the rehearsals with the zeal and
attention of paternal love. In two successive winters his tragedies
of Zayre, Alzire, Zulime, and his sentimental comedy of the Enfant
Prodigue, were played at the theatre of Monrepos. Voltaire
represented the characters best adapted to his years, Lusignan,
Alvarez, Benassar, Euphemon. His declamation was fashioned to the
pomp and cadence of the old stage; and he expressed the enthusiasm
of poetry, rather than the feelings of nature. My ardour, which
soon became conspicuous, seldom failed of procuring me a ticket.
The habits of pleasure fortified my taste for the French theatre,
and that taste has perhaps abated my idolatry for the gigantic
genius of Shakespeare, which is inculcated from our infancy as the
first duty of an Englishman. The wit and philosophy of Voltaire,
his table and theatre, refined, in a visible degree, the manners of
Lausanne; and, however addicted to study, I enjoyed my share of the
amusements of society. After the representation of Monrepos I
sometimes supped with the actors. I was now familiar in some, and
acquainted in many houses; and my evenings were generally devoted to
cards and conversation, either in private parties or numerous
assemblies.
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 though
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 honourably 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
afterwards 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 behaviour. 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, the minister, and perhaps the legislator, of
the French monarchy.
Whatsoever have been the fruits of my education, they must be
ascribed to the fortunate banishment which placed me at Lausanne. I
have sometimes applied to my own fate the verses of Pindar, which
remind an Olympic champion that his victory was the consequence of
his exile; and that at home, like a domestic fowl, his days might
have rolled away inactive or inglorious.
[Greek omitted]
Thus, like the crested bird of Mars, at home
Engag'd in foul domestic jars,
And wasted with intestine wars,
Inglorious hadst thou spent thy vig'rous bloom;
Had not sedition's civil broils
Expell'd thee from thy native Crete,
And driv'n thee with more glorious toils
Th' Olympic crown in Pisa's plain to meet.
West's Pindar.
If my childish revolt against the religion of my country had not
stripped me in time of my academic gown, the five important years,
so liberally improved in the studies and conversation of Lausanne,
would have been steeped in port and prejudice among the monks of
Oxford. Had the fatigue of idleness compelled me to read, the path
of learning would not have been enlightened by a ray of philosophic
freedom. I should have grown to manhood ignorant of the life and
language of Europe, and my knowledge of the world would have been
confined to an English cloister. But my religious error fixed me at
Lausanne, in a state of banishment and disgrace. The rigid course
of discipline and abstinence, to which I was condemned, invigorated
the constitution of my mind and body; poverty and pride estranged me
from my countrymen. One mischief, however, and in their eyes a
serious and irreparable mischief, was derived from the success of my
Swiss education; I had ceased to be an Englishman. At the flexible
period of youth, from the age of sixteen to twenty-one, my opinions,
habits, and sentiments were cast in a foreign mould; the faint and
distant remembrance of England was almost obliterated; my native
language was grown less familiar; and I should have cheerfully
accepted the offer of a moderate independence on the terms of
perpetual exile. By the good sense and temper of Pavilliard my yoke
was insensibly lightened: he left me master of my time and actions;
but he could neither change my situation, nor increase my allowance,
and with the progress of my years and reason I impatiently sighed
for the moment of my deliverance. At length, in the spring of the
year 1758, my father signified his permission and his pleasure that
I should immediately return home. We were then in the midst of a
war: the resentment of the French at our taking their ships without
a declaration, had rendered that polite nation somewhat peevish and
difficult. They denied a passage to English travellers, and the
road through Germany was circuitous, toilsome, and perhaps in the
neighbourhood of the armies, exposed to some danger. In this
perplexity, two Swiss officers of my acquaintance in the Dutch
service, who were returning to their garrisons, offered to conduct
me through France as one of their companions; nor did we
sufficiently reflect that my borrowed name and regimentals might
have been considered, in case of a discovery, in a very serious
light. I took my leave of Lausanne on April 11 1758, with a mixture
of joy and regret, in the firm resolution revisiting, as a man, the
persons and places which had been so dear to my youth. We travelled
slowly, but pleasantly, in a hired coach, over the hills of
Franche-compte and the fertile province of Lorraine, and passed,
without accident or inquiry, through several fortified towns of the
French frontier: from thence we entered the wild Ardennes of the
Austrian dutchy of Luxemburg; and after crossing the Meuse at Liege,
we traversed the heaths of Brabant, and reached, on April 26, our
Dutch garrison of Bois le Duc. In our passage through Nancy, my eye
was gratified by the aspect of a regular and beautiful city, the
work of Stanislaus, who, after the storms of Polish royalty, reposed
in the love and gratitude of his new subjects of Lorraine. In our
halt at Maestricht I visited Mr. de Beaufort, a learned critic, who
was known to me by his specious arguments against the five first
centuries of the Roman History. After dropping my regimental
companions, I stepped aside to visit Rotterdam and the Hague. I
wished to have observed a country, the monument of freedom and
industry; but my days were numbered, and a longer delay would have
been ungraceful. I hastened to embark at the Brill, landed the next
day at Harwich, and proceeded to London, where my father awaited my
arrival. The whole term of my first absence from England was four
years ten months and fifteen days.
In the prayers of the church our personal concerns are judiciously
reduced to the threefold distinction of mind, body, and estate. The
sentiments of the mind excite and exercise our social sympathy. The
review of my moral and literary character is the most interesting to
myself and to the public; and I may expatiate, without reproach, on
my private studies; since they have produced the public writings,
which can alone entitle me to the esteem and friendship of my
readers. The experience of the world inculcates a discreet reserve
on the subject of our person and estate, and we soon learn that a
free disclosure of our riches or poverty would provoke the malice of
envy, or encourage the insolence of contempt.