in which I have endeavored to conduct my own.  They who set themselves to
give precepts must of course regard themselves as possessed of greater skill
than those to whom they prescribe; and if they err in the slightest particular,
they subject themselves to censure.  But as this tract is put forth merely
as a history, or, if you will, as a tale, in which, amid some examples worthy
of imitation, there will be found, perhaps, as many more which it were
advisable not to follow, I hope it will prove useful to some without being
hurtful to any, and that my openness will find some favor with all.

From my childhood, I have been familiar with letters; and as I was given
to believe that by their help a clear and certain knowledge of all that is
useful in life might be acquired, I was ardently desirous of instruction.
But as soon as I had finished the entire course of study, at the close of
which it is customary to be admitted into the order of the learned, I
completely changed my opinion.  For I found myself involved in so many
doubts and errors, that I was convinced I had advanced no farther in all
my attempts at learning, than the discovery at every turn of my own
ignorance.  And yet I was studying in one of the most celebrated schools in
Europe, in which I thought there must be learned men,  if such were
anywhere to be found.  I had been taught all that others learned there;
and not contented with the sciences actually taught us, I had, in
addition, read all the books that had fallen into my hands, treating of
such branches as are esteemed the most curious and rare.  I knew the
judgment which others had formed of me; and I did not find that I was
considered inferior to my fellows, although there were among them some who
were already marked out to fill the places of our instructors.  And, in
fine, our age appeared to me as flourishing, and as fertile in powerful
minds as any preceding one.  I was thus led to take the liberty of judging
of all other men by myself, and of concluding that there was no science in
existence that was of such a nature as I had previously been given to believe.

I still continued, however, to hold in esteem the studies of the schools.
I was aware that the languages taught in them are necessary to the
understanding of the writings of the ancients; that the grace of fable
stirs the mind; that the memorable deeds of history elevate it; and, if
read with discretion, aid in forming the judgment; that the perusal of all
excellent books is,  as it were, to interview with the noblest men of past
ages, who have written them, and even a studied interview, in which are
discovered to us only their choicest thoughts; that eloquence has
incomparable force and beauty; that poesy has its ravishing graces and
delights; that in the mathematics there are many refined discoveries
eminently suited to gratify the inquisitive, as well as further all the
arts an lessen the labour of man; that numerous highly useful precepts and
exhortations to virtue are contained in treatises on morals; that theology
points out the path to heaven; that philosophy affords the means of
discoursing with an appearance of truth on all matters, and commands the
admiration of the more simple; that jurisprudence, medicine, and the other
sciences, secure for their cultivators honors and riches; and, in fine,
that it is useful to bestow some attention upon all, even upon those
abounding the most in superstition and error, that we may be in a position
to determine their real value, and guard against being deceived.

But I believed that I had already given sufficient time to languages, and
likewise to the reading of the writings of the ancients, to their
histories and fables.   For to hold converse with those of other ages and
to travel, are almost the same thing.  It is useful to know something of
the manners of different nations, that we may be enabled  to form a more
correct judgment regarding our own, and be prevented from thinking that
everything contrary to our customs is ridiculous and irrational, a
conclusion usually come to by those whose experience has been limited to
their own country.  On the other hand, when too much time is occupied in
traveling, we become strangers to our native country; and the over
curious in the customs of the past are generally ignorant of those of the
present.  Besides, fictitious narratives lead us to imagine the possibility
of many events that are impossible; and even the most faithful histories,
if they do not wholly misrepresent matters, or exaggerate their importance
to render the account of them more worthy of perusal, omit, at least, almost
always the meanest and least striking of the attendant circumstances; hence
it happens that the remainder does not represent the truth, and that such as
regulate their conduct by examples drawn from this source, are apt to fall
into the extravagances of the knight-errants of romance, and to entertain
projects that exceed their powers.

I esteemed eloquence highly, and was in raptures with poesy; but I thought
that both were gifts of nature rather than fruits of study.  Those in whom
the faculty of reason is predominant, and who most skillfully dispose their
thoughts with a view to render them clear and intelligible, are always the
best able to persuade others of the truth of what they lay down, though
they should speak only in the language of Lower Brittany, and be wholly
ignorant of the rules of rhetoric; and those whose minds are stored with
the most agreeable fancies, and who can give expression to them with the
greatest embellishment and harmony, are still the best poets, though
unacquainted with the art of poetry.

I was especially delighted with the mathematics, on account of the
certitude and evidence of their reasonings;  but I had not as yet a
precise knowledge of their true use; and thinking that they but
contributed to the advancement of the mechanical arts, I was astonished
that foundations, so strong and solid, should have had no loftier
superstructure reared on them.  On the other hand, I compared the
disquisitions of the ancient moralists to very towering and magnificent
palaces with no better foundation than sand and mud:  they laud the virtues
very highly, and exhibit them as estimable far above anything on earth;
but they give us no adequate criterion of virtue, and frequently that
which they designate with so fine a name is but apathy, or pride,
or despair, or parricide.

I revered our theology, and aspired as much as any one to reach heaven:
but being given assuredly to understand that the way is not less open to
the most ignorant than to the most learned, and that the revealed truths