TEXTS : 1818 EDITION : VOL. I
I AM by birth a Genevese; and
my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many
years counsellors and syndics; and my father had
filled several public situations with honour and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him for his
integrity and indefatigable attention to public
business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country; and it was not
until the decline of life that he thought of marrying,
and bestowing on the state sons who might carry his
virtues and his name down to posterity.
As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot refrain from
relating them. One of his most intimate friends was a merchant, who, from a flourishing state, fell, through
numerous mischances, into poverty. This man, whose name was Beaufort, was of a proud and unbending disposition,
and could not bear to live in poverty and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been distinguished for
his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts, therefore, in the most honourable manner, he retreated with his
daughter to the town of Lucerne, where he lived unknown and in wretchedness. My father loved Beaufort with the truest
friendship, and was deeply grieved by his retreat in these unfortunate circumstances. He grieved also for the loss
of his society, and resolved to seek him out and endeavour to persuade him to begin the world again through his
credit and assistance.
Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself; and it was ten months before my
father discovered his abode. Overjoyed at this discovery, he hastened to the house, which was situated in a mean
street, near the Reuss. But when he entered, misery and
despair alone welcomed him. Beaufort had saved but a very small sum of money from the wreck of his fortunes; but
it was sufficient to provide him with sustenance for some months, and in the meantime he hoped to procure some
respectable employment in a merchant's house. The interval was consequently spent in inaction; his grief only became more deep
and rankling, when he had leisure for reflection; and at length it took so fast hold of his mind, that at the end
of three months he lay on a bed of sickness, incapable of any exertion.
His daughter attended him with
the greatest tenderness; but she saw with despair that their little fund was rapidly decreasing, and that there
was no other prospect of support. But Caroline Beaufort possessed a mind of an uncommon mould; and her courage
rose to support her in her adversity. She procured plain
work; she plaited straw; and by various means
contrived to earn a pittance scarcely sufficient to support life.
Several months passed in this manner. Her father grew worse; her time was more entirely
occupied in attending him; her means of subsistence decreased; and in the tenth month her father died in her arms,
leaving her an orphan and a beggar. This last blow
overcame her; and she knelt by Beaufort's coffin, weeping bitterly, when my father entered the chamber. He came
like a protecting spirit to the poor girl, who committed herself to his care, and after the interment of his
friend he conducted her to Geneva, and placed her under the protection of a relation. Two years after this event Caroline became his
When my father became a husband and a parent, he found his time so occupied by the duties
of his new situation, that he relinquished many of his public employments, and devoted himself to the education of his children. Of these I was the
eldest, and the destined successor to all his
labours and utility. No creature could have more
tender parents than mine. My improvement and health were their constant care, especially as I remained for several
years their only child. But before I continue my narrative, I must record an incident which took place when I was
four years of age.
My father had a sister, whom he tenderly loved, and who had married early in life an Italian gentleman. Soon after her marriage, she
had accompanied her husband into his native country, and for some years my father had very little communication
with her. About the time I mentioned she died; and a few months afterwards he received a letter from her husband,
acquainting him with his intention of marrying an Italian lady, and requesting my father to take charge of the
infant Elizabeth, the only child of his deceased sister. "It is my wish," he said, "that you should consider her
as your own daughter, and educate her thus. Her mother's
fortune is secured to her, the documents of which I will commit to your keeping. Reflect upon this
proposition; and decide whether you would prefer educating your niece yourself to her being brought up by a stepmother."
My father did not hesitate, and immediately went to Italy, that he might accompany the
little Elizabeth to her future home. I have often heard my mother say, that she was at that time the most
beautiful child she had ever seen, and shewed signs even then of a gentle and affectionate disposition. These
indications, and a desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love, determined my mother to
consider Elizabeth as my future wife; a design which she
never found reason to repent.
From this time Elizabeth
Lavenza became my playfellow, and, as we grew older, my friend. She was docile and good tempered, yet gay
and playful as a summer insect. Although she was lively and animated, her feelings were strong and deep, and her
disposition uncommonly affectionate. No one could better enjoy liberty, yet no one could submit with more grace
than she did to constraint and caprice. Her imagination was luxuriant, yet her capability of application was
great. Her person was the image of her mind; her hazel eyes, although as lively as a bird's, possessed an
attractive softness. Her figure was light and airy; and, though capable of enduring great fatigue, she appeared
the most fragile creature in the world. While I admired her understanding and fancy, I loved to tend on her, as I
should on a favourite animal; and I never saw so much grace both of person and mind united to so little
Every one adored Elizabeth. If the servants had any request to make, it was always through
her intercession. We were strangers to any species of disunion and dispute; for although there was a great dissimilitude in our characters, there was
an harmony in that very dissimilitude. I was more calm and philosophical than my companion; yet my temper was not
so yielding. My application was of longer endurance; but it was not so severe whilst it endured. I delighted in investigating the facts relative to the actual
world; she busied herself in following the aërial creations of the poets. The world was to me a
secret, which I desired to discover; to her it was a vacancy, which she sought to people with imaginations of her own.
My brothers were considerably
younger than myself; but I had a friend in one of my
schoolfellows, who compensated for this deficiency. Henry
Clerval was the son of a merchant of Geneva, an intimate friend of my father. He was a boy of singular talent and fancy. I remember, when he was nine
years old, he wrote a fairy tale, which was the delight
and amazement of all his companions. His favourite study consisted in books of chivalry and romance; and when very young, I can
remember, that we used to act plays composed by him out of these favourite books, the principal characters of
which were Orlando, Robin Hood, Amadis, and St. George.
No youth could have passed more happily than mine. My parents were indulgent, and my
companions amiable. Our studies were never forced;
and by some means we always had an end placed in view, which excited us to ardour in the prosecution of them. It
was by this method, and not by emulation, that we
were urged to application. Elizabeth was not incited to apply herself to drawing, that her companions might not outstrip her;
but through the desire of pleasing her aunt, by the representation of some favourite scene done by her own hand.
We learned Latin and English, that we might read the
writings in those languages; and so far from study being made odious to us through punishment, we loved
application, and our amusements would have been the labours of other children. Perhaps we did not read so many
books, or learn languages so quickly, as those who are disciplined according to the ordinary methods; but what we
learned was impressed the more deeply on our memories.
In this description of our
domestic circle I include Henry Clerval; for he was constantly with us. He went to school with me, and
generally passed the afternoon at our house: for being an only child, and destitute of companions at home, his
father was well pleased that he should find associates at our house; and we were never completely happy when
Clerval was absent.
I feel pleasure in dwelling on the recollections of childhood, before misfortune had
tainted my mind, and changed its bright visions of extensive usefulness into gloomy and narrow reflections upon self. But, in drawing the picture of my early days, I must not omit to record those
events which led, by insensible steps to my after tale of misery: for when I would account to myself for the birth
of that passion, which afterwards ruled my destiny, I
find it arise, like a mountain river, from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but, swelling as it proceeded, it
became the torrent which, in its course, has swept away all my hopes and joys.
Natural philosophy is the
genius that has regulated my fate; I desire therefore, in this narration, to state those facts which led to my
predilection for that science. When I was thirteen
years of age, we all went on a party of pleasure to the baths near Thonon: the inclemency of the weather obliged us to
remain a day confined to the inn. In this house I chanced to find a volume of the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I opened it with apathy; the
theory which he attempts to demonstrate, and the wonderful facts which he relates, soon changed this feeling into
enthusiasm. A new light seemed to dawn upon my mind; and, bounding with joy, I communicated my discovery to my father. I cannot help remarking here the many
opportunities instructors possess of directing the attention of their pupils to useful knowledge, which they
utterly neglect. My father looked carelessly at the title-page of my book, and said, "Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My
dear Victor, do not waste your time upon this; it is sad trash."
If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to me, that the
principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded, and that a modern system of science had been introduced, which
possessed much greater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were chimerical, while those of the former were real and
practical; under such circumstances, I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside, and, with my imagination warmed
as it was, should probably have applied myself to the more rational theory of chemistry which has resulted
from modern discoveries. It is even possible, that the train of my ideas would never have received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. But the cursory
glance my father had taken of my volume by no means assured me that he was acquainted with its contents; and I
continued to read with the greatest avidity.
When I returned home, my first care was to procure the whole works of this author, and
afterwards of Paracelsus and Albertus Magnus. I read and studied the wild
fancies of these writers with delight; they appeared to me treasures known to few beside myself; and although I
have often wished to communicate these secret stores of
knowledge to my father, yet his indefinite censure of my favourite Agrippa always withheld me. I disclosed
my discoveries to Elizabeth, therefore, under a promise of strict secrecy; but she did not interest herself in the
subject, and I was left by her to pursue my studies
It may appear very strange, that a disciple of Albertus Magnus should arise in the
eighteenth century; but our family was not scientifical, and I had not attended any of the lectures given at the
schools of Geneva. My dreams were therefore undisturbed by reality; and I entered with the greatest diligence into
the search of the philosopher's stone and the elixir of
life. But the latter obtained my undivided
attention: wealth was an inferior object; but what
glory would attend the discovery, if I could banish disease from the human frame, and render man
invulnerable to any but a violent death!
Nor were these my only visions. The raising of ghosts or devils was a promise liberally
accorded by my favourite authors, the fulfillment of which I most eagerly sought; and if my incantations were
always unsuccessful, I attributed the failure rather to my own inexperience and mistake than to a want of skill or
fidelity in my instructors.
The natural phænomena that take place every day before our eyes did not escape my
examinations. Distillation, and the wonderful effects
of steam, processes of which my favourite authors were utterly ignorant, excited my astonishment; but my utmost
wonder was engaged by some experiments on an
air-pump, which I saw employed by a gentleman whom we were in the habit of visiting.
The ignorance of the early philosophers on these and several other points served to
decrease their credit with me: but I could not entirely throw them aside, before some other system should occupy
their place in my mind.
When I was about fifteen years old, we had retired to our house near Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and terrible thunder-storm. It advanced from behind the
mountains of Jura; and the thunder burst at once with frightful loudness from various quarters of the heavens. I
remained, while the storm lasted, watching its progress with curiosity and delight. As I stood at the door, on a
sudden I beheld a stream of fire issue from an old and beautiful oak, which stood about twenty yards from our
house; and so soon as the dazzling light vanished, the oak had disappeared, and nothing remained but a blasted stump. When we visited it the next morning,
we found the tree shattered in a singular manner. It was not splintered by the shock, but entirely reduced to thin
ribbands of wood. I never beheld anything so utterly destroyed.
The catastrophe of this tree excited my extreme astonishment; and I eagerly inquired of my
father the nature and origin of thunder and lightning. He replied, "Electricity;" describing at the same time the
various effects of that power. He constructed a small electrical machine, and exhibited a few experiments; he made
also a kite, with a wire and string, which drew down
that fluid from the clouds.
This last stroke completed the overthrow of Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus Magnus, and
Paracelsus, who had so long reigned the lords of my imagination. But by some fatality I did not feel inclined to
commence the study of any modern system; and this disinclination was influenced by the following circumstance.
My father expressed a wish that I should attend a course of lectures upon natural
philosophy, to which I cheerfully consented. Some
accident prevented my attending these lectures until the course was nearly finished. The lecture, being therefore
one of the last, was entirely incomprehensible to
me. The professor discoursed with the greatest fluency of potassium and boron, of sulphates and oxyds,
terms to which I could affix no idea; and I became disgusted with the science of natural philosophy, although I
still read Pliny and Buffon with delight, authors, in my estimation, of
nearly equal interest and utility.
My occupations at this age were principally the mathematics, and most of the branches of study
appertaining to that science. I was busily employed in learning languages; Latin was already familiar to me, and I
began to read some of the easiest Greek authors without the help of a lexicon. I also perfectly understood English and
German. This is the list of my accomplishments at the age of seventeen; and you may conceive that my hours were
fully employed in acquiring and maintaining a knowledge of this various literature.
Another task also devolved upon me, when I became the instructor of my brothers. Ernest was six years younger than myself, and was my
principal pupil. He had been afflicted with ill health from his infancy, through which Elizabeth and I had been
his constant nurses: his disposition was gentle, but he was incapable of any severe application. William, the youngest of our family, was yet an
infant, and the most beautiful little fellow in the world; his lively blue eyes, dimpled cheeks, and endearing
manners, inspired the tenderest affection.
Such was our domestic circle,
from which care and pain seemed for ever banished. My father directed our studies, and my mother partook of our
enjoyments. Neither of us possessed the slightest
pre-eminence over the other; the voice of
command was never heard amongst us; but mutual affection engaged us all to comply with and obey the
slightest desire of each other.
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table of contents / novel texts / 1818 edition / volume I / chapter 1