enabled me, in a more propitious season, to prosecute the study of Grecian literature. From a blind idea of the use. fulness 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 reason. able a wish. During two winters I attended the private lectures of monsieur de Tray torrens, who explained the elements of algebra and geometry, as far as the conic sec. tions of the marquis de l'Hôpital, and appeared satisfied with my di. ligence 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 la. ment 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, deter mine 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 be ing disgusted by Grotius or Puffen. dorf, I studied in their writings the duties of a man, the rights of a ci tizen, the theory of justice (it is, alas! a theory), and the laws of peace or war, which have had some VOL. XXXVIII. influence on the practice of modern. Europe. My fatigues were alleviated by the good sense of their commentator Barbey rac. 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 sti mulate 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 care fully 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 im portant treatise; in its maturity, the most trifling performance could not 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 Z should. should be glad to recover my first essay on the truth of the miracle which stopped the re-building of the Temple of Jerusalem. 3. In Giannone's Civil History of Naples, I observed with a critical eye the progress and abuse of sacerdo. tal 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 whe. ther 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." Account of Solomon Gesner, Author of the Death of Abel, &c. THIS very pleasing writer was born at Zurich, on the 1st of April, 1730. In his youth, little expecta. tions could be formed of him, as he then displayed none of the talents for which he was afterwards distinguished. His parents saw nothing to afford them much hope, though Simlar, a man of some learning, assured his father, that the boy had talents which, though now hid, would sooner or later shew them. selves, and elevate him far above his school-fellows. As he had made so little progress at Zurich, he was sent to Berg, and put under the care of a clergyman, where retirement and the picturesque sce. nery around him laid the founda. tion for the change of his character, After a two year's residence at Berg, he returned home to his fa ther, who was a bookseller at Zu. rich, and whose shop was resorted to by such men of genius as were then in that city; here his poetical talents in some slight degree displayed themselves, though not in such a manner as to prevent his father from sending him to Berlin, in the year 1749, to qualify him for his own business. Here he was employed in the business of the shop; but he soon became dissatisfied with his mode of life; he eloped from his master, and hired a chamber for himself. To reduce him to order, his parents, accord. ing to the usual mode in such cases, withheld every supply of money. He resolved, however, to be independent; shut himself up in his chamber; and, after some weeks, went to his friend Hempel, a cele brated artist, whom he requested to return with him to his lodgings. There he shewed his apartments covered with fresh landscapes, which our poet had painted with sweet oil, and by which he hoped to make his fortune: The shrugging up of the shoulders of his friend concluded with an assurance, that though his works were not likely to be held in high estimation in their present state, some expecta. tions might be raised from them, if he continued the same application for ten years. Luckily for our young artist his parents releated, and he was permitted to spend his time as he liked at Berlin. Here he formed acquaintance with artists and men of letters; Krause, Hempel, Ramler, Sulzer, were his companions; Ramler was his friend, from the fineness fineness of whose ear and taste he derived the greatest advantages. With much diffidence he presented to Ramler some of his compositions; but every verse and every word were criticised, and very few could pass through the fiery trial. The Swiss dialect, he found at last, was the obstacle in his way, and the exertions requisite to satisfy the delicacy of a German ear would be excessive. Ramler advised him to clothe his thoughts in harmonious prose; this counsel he fol. lowed, and the anecdote may be of use in Britain, where many a would. be poet is probably hammering at a verse, which, from the circumstances of his birth and education, he can never make agreeable to the ear of taste. From Berlin, Gessner went to Hamburgh, with letters of recommendation to Hagedorn; but he chose to make himself acquainted క with him at a coffee-house before the letters were delivered. A close intimacy followed, and he had the advantages of a literary society which Hamburgh at that time af. forded. Thence he returned home, with his taste much refined; and, fortunately for him he came back when his countrymen were in some degree capable of enjoying his future works. Had he produced them twenty years before, his Daphnis would have been hissed at as immoral; his Abel would have been preached against as propha nation. This period may be called the Augustan age of Germany; Klop. stock, Ramler, Kleist, Gleim, Utz, Lessing, Wieland, Rabener, were rescuing their country from the sar. casms of the great Frederic. Klop. stock, paid about this time a visit to Zurich, and fired every breast with poetical ardour. He had scarce left the place when Wieland came, and by both our poet was well received. After a few anonymous compositions, he tried his genius on a subject which was started by the accidental perusal of the translations of Longus; and his Daphnis was improved by the remarks of his friend Hirzel, the author of the Rustic Socrates. Daphnis appeared first without a name in the year 1754; it was followed in 1756, by Inkle and Yarico; and Gessner's reputation was spread in the same year, over Germany and Switzerland, by his Pastorals, a translation of which into English, in 1762, was published by Dr. Kenrick. His brother poets acknowledged the merit of these light compositions, as they were pleased to call them; but conceived their author to be incapable of forming a grander plan, or aiming at the dignity of heroic poetry. To these critics he soon after opposed his Death of Abel. In 1762, he collected his poems in four volumes; in which were some new pieces that had never before made their appearance in public. In 1772, he produced his se cond volume of pastorals, with some letters on landscape painting. These met with the most favourable re ception in France, where they were translated and imitated; as they were also, though with less success, in Italy and England. We shall now consider Gessner as an artist: till his thirtieth year, painting was only an accidental amusement; but at that time he became acquainted with Heidegger, a man of taste, whose collection of paintings and engrav Z 2 ings 1 ings was thus thrown open to him. The daughter made an impression on him, but the circumstances of the lovers were not favourable to an union, til through the activity and fricudship of the burgomasters Heidegger and Hirzel, he was enab'ed to accomplish his wishes. The question then became, how the married couple were to live? The pen is but a slender dependence any where, and stiil less in Switzerland. The poet had too much spirit to be dependent on others; and he determined to pursue the atts no longer as an amusement, but as a means of procuring a livelihood. Painting and engraving alternately filled that time which was not occupied with poetry; and in these arts, if he did not arrive at the greatest eminence, he was distinguished by that simplicity, that elegance, that singularity, which are the characteristics ofchis, poetry. His wife was not idle; besides the care of his house and the education of his children, for which no one was better qualified, the whole burthen of the shop (for our poet was bookseller as well as poet, engraver, and painte:) was laid upon her shoulders. In his manners, Gessner was chearful, lively, and at times play. ful; fond of his wife; fond of his children. He had small preten. sions to learning, yet he could read the Latin poets in the original; and of the Greek, he preferred the Latin translations to the French. In his early years, he led either a solitary life, or confined himself to men of taste and literature as he grew older, he accustomed himself to general conversation; and in his later years, his house was the centre point of the men of the first rank for talents or fortune in Zurich. Here they met twice a week, and formed a conversazione of a kind seldom, if ever, to be met with in great cities, and very rarely in any place; the politics of England destroy such meetings in London. Gessner with his friends enjoyed that simplicity of manners which makes society agreeable; and in his rural residence, in the summer, a little way out of town, they brought back the memory almost of the Golden Age. He died of an apoplexy on the 2d of March, 1788; leaving a wi dow, three children, and a sister behind. His youngest son was married to a daughter of his father's friend Wieland. His fellow citizens have erected a statue in memory of him on the banks of the Limmot, where it meets the Sibl. Same particulars of the Death of Condorcet, from Bottiger on the state of Letters, Sc. in France. AMONG the Girondists pro scribed by Robespierre on the 31st of May, Condorcet was the very first on the list, and was obliged to skulk in the most hidden corners to clude the persecutions of the furious Jacobins. A lady, to whom he was known only by name, became, at the instance of a common friend, his generous protectress; concealing him in her house at Paris, at the most imminent hazard, till the latter end of April 1794; when the apprehension of general domiciliary visits so much increased, and the risk of exposing both himself and his patroness became so pressing on the mind of Condorcet, that he resolved, to quit Paris. Without Without either passport or civic card, he contrived under the disguise of a provençal countrywoman, with a white cap on his head, to steal through the barriers of Paris, and reached the plains of Mont Rouge, in the district of Bourg-la-Reine; where he hoped to have found an asylum in the country-house of a gentleman with whom he had once been intimate. This friend having, unfortunately, at the very time, gone to Paris, Condorcet was under the dreadful necessity of wandering about in the fields and woods, for three successive days and nights, not venturing to enter any inn, unprovided with a civic card. Exhausted by hunger, fatigue, and anguish, with a wound in his foot, he was scarcely able to drag himself into a deserted quarry, where he purposed to await the return of his friend. At length, hav. ing advanced towards the road-side, Condorcet saw him approach, was recognized, and received with open arms-but, as they both feared lest Condorcet's frequent inquiries at his friend's house should have raised suspicions; and as, at any rate, it was not advisable for them to make their entrance together, in the day time, they agreed that Condorcet should stay in the fields till dusk, and then be let in by a back door. It was then, how. ever, that imprudence threw him off his guard. The forlorn exile, after having patiently borne hunger and thirst, for three days together, without so much as approaching an inn, now finds himself incapable of waiting a few hours longer, at the end of which all his suf. ferings were to subside in the bosom of friendship. Transported with this happy prospect, and fore going all caution, which seemed to have become habitual to him, he entered an inn at Clamars, and called for an ommelette. His attire, his dirty cap and long beard, his pale meagre countenance, and the ravenous appetite with which he devoured the victuals. could not fail to excite the curiosity and suspicion of the company. A member of the revolutionary committee who happened to be present, taking it for granted that his woe-begone figure could be no other than some runway from the Picêtre, addressed and questioned him whence he came, whether he could produce a passport, &c. which inquiries, Condorcet having lost all self-command, were so unsatisfactorily answered, that he was taken to the house of the committee as a suspected person. Thence, having undergone a second interrogatory, during which he acquit. ted himself equally ill, he was con ducted to Bourg-la-Reine; and, as he gave very inconsistent answers to the questions put to him by the municipality, it was inferred that this unknown person must have some very important reasons for wishing to continue undiscovered. Being sent to a temporary confinement till the matter should be cleared up, on the next morning he was found senseless on the ground, without any marks of violence on his body; whence it was conjectured that he must have poisoned himself. Inded, Condorcet had, for sometime past, carried about him the most deadly poison; and, not long before his fatal exit, he owned to a friend, that he had more than twenty times been tempted to make use of it, but was checked by motives of af 23 fection |