hours he was employed in his business, I daily read them, with an
avidity and taste uncommon, perhaps unprecedented at my age.

  Plutarch presently became my greatest favorite. The satisfaction I
derived from the repeated readings I gave this author, extinguished my
passion for romances, and I shortly preferred Agesilaus, Brutus, and
Aristides, to Orondates, Artemenes, and Juba. These interesting
studies, seconded by the conversations they frequently occasioned with
my father, produced that republican spirit and love of liberty, that
haughty and invincible turn of mind, which rendered me impatient of
restraint or servitude, and became the torment of my life, as I
continually found myself in situations incompatible with these
sentiments. Incessantly occupied with Rome and Athens, conversing,
if I may so express myself, with their illustrious heroes; born the
citizen of a republic, of a father whose ruling passion was the love
of his country, I was fired with these examples; could fancy myself
a Greek or Roman, and readily give into the character of the personage
whose life I read; transported by the recital of any extraordinary
instance of fortitude or intrepidity, animation flashed from my
eyes, and gave my voice additional strength and energy. One day, at
table, while relating the fortitude of Scoevola, they were terrified
at seeing me start from my seat and hold my hand over a hot
chafing-dish, to represent more forcibly the action of that determined
Roman.

  My brother, who was seven years older than myself, was brought up to
my father's profession. The extraordinary affection they lavished on
me might be the reason he was too much neglected: this certainly was a
fault which cannot be justified. His education and morals suffered
by this neglect, and he acquired the habits of a libertine before he
arrived at an age to be really one. My father tried what effect
placing him with a master would produce, but he still persisted in the
same ill conduct. Though I saw him so seldom that it could hardly be
said we were acquainted, I loved him tenderly, and believe he had as
strong an affection for me as a youth of his dissipated turn of mind
could be supposed capable of. One day, I remember, when my father
was correcting him severely, I threw myself between them, embracing my
brother, whom I covered with my body, receiving the strokes designed
for him; I persisted so obstinately in my protection, that either
softened by my cries and tears, or fearing to hurt me most, his
anger subsided, and he pardoned his fault. In the end, my brother's
conduct became so bad that he suddenly disappeared, and we learned
some time after that he was in Germany, but he never wrote to us,
and from that day we heard no news of him: thus I became an only son.

  If this poor lad was neglected, it was quite different with his
brother, for the children of a king could not be treated with more
attention and tenderness than were bestowed on my infancy, being the
darling of the family; and what is rather uncommon, though treated
as a beloved, never a spoiled child; was never permitted, while
under paternal inspection, to play in the street with other
children; never had any occasion to contradict or indulge those
fantastical humors which are usually attributed to nature, but are
in reality the effects of an injudicious education. I had the faults
common to my age, was talkative, a glutton, and sometimes a liar; made
no scruple of stealing sweetmeats, fruits, or, indeed, any kind of
eatables; but never took delight in mischievous waste, in accusing
others, or tormenting harmless animals. I recollect, indeed, that
one day, while Madam Clot, a neighbor of ours, was gone to church, I
made water in her kettle; the remembrance even now makes me smile, for
Madam Clot (though, if you please, a good sort of creature) was one of
the most tedious grumbling old women I ever knew. Thus have I given
a brief, but faithful, history of my childish transgressions.

  How could I become cruel or vicious, when I had before my eyes
only examples of mildness, and was surrounded by some of the best
people in the world? My father, my aunt, my nurse, my relations, our
friends, our neighbors, all I had any connections with, did not obey
me, it is true, but loved me tenderly, and I returned their affection.
I found so little to excite my desires, and those I had were so seldom
contradicted, that I was hardly sensible of possessing any, and can
solemnly aver I was an absolute stranger to caprice until after I
had experienced the authority of a master.

  Those hours that were not employed in reading or writing with my
father, or walking with my governess, Jaqueline, I spent with my aunt;
and whether seeing her embroider, or hearing her sing, whether sitting
or standing by her side, I was ever happy. Her tenderness and
unaffected gayety, the charms of her figure and countenance, have left
such indelible impressions on my mind, that her manner, look, and
attitude, are still before my eyes; I recollect a thousand little
caressing questions; could describe her clothes, her head-dress, nor
have the two curls of fine black hair which hung on her temples,
according to the mode of that time, escaped my memory.

  Though my taste, or rather passion, for music, did not show itself
until a considerable time after, I am fully persuaded it is to her I
am indebted for it. She knew a great number of songs, which she sung
with great sweetness and melody. The serenity and cheerfulness which
were conspicuous in this lovely girl, banished melancholy, and made
all round her happy.

  The charms of her voice had such an affect on me, that not only
several of her songs have ever since remained on my memory, but some I
have not thought of from my infancy, as I grow old, return upon my
mind with a charm altogether inexpressible. Would any one believe that
an old dotard like me, worn out with care and infirmity, should
sometime surprise himself weeping like a child, and in a voice
querulous, and broken by age, muttering out one of those airs which
were the favorites of my infancy? There is one song in particular,