My uncle Bernard, who was an engineer, went to serve in the empire and
Hungary, under Prince Eugene, and distinguished himself both at the siege
and battle of Belgrade. My father, after the birth of my only brother,
set off, on recommendation, for Constantinople, and was appointed
watchmaker to the Seraglio. During his absence, the beauty, wit, and
accomplishments[1] of my mother attracted a number of admirers, among whom
Mons. de la Closure, Resident of France, was the most assiduous in his
attentions.
His passion must have been extremely violent, since after a period of
thirty years I have seen him affected at the very mention of her name.
My mother had a defence more powerful even than her virtue; she tenderly
loved my father, and conjured him to return; his inclination seconding
his request, he gave up every prospect of emolument, and hastened to
Geneva.
I was the unfortunate fruit of this return, being born ten months after, in a very weakly and infirm state; my birth cost my mother her life, and was the first of my misfortunes. I am ignorant how my father supported her loss at that time, but I know he was ever after inconsolable. In me he still thought he saw her he so tenderly lamented, but could never forget I had been the innocent cause of his misfortune, nor did he ever embrace me, but his sighs, the convulsive pressure of his arms, witnessed that a bitter regret mingled itself with his caresses, though, as may be supposed, they were not
- ↑ They were too brilliant for her situation, the minister, her
father, having bestowed great pains on her education. She was aught
drawing, singing, and to play on the theorbo; had learning, and
wrote very agreeable verses. The following is an extempore piece
which she composed in the absence of her husband and brother, in a
conversation with some person relative to them, while walking with
her sister--in--law, and their two children:
Ces deux messieurs, qui sont absens,
Nous sont chers e bien des manieres;
Ce sont nos amiss, nos amans,
Ce sont nos maris et nos freres,
Et les peres de ces enfans.
These absent ones, who just claim
Our hearts, by every tender name,
To whom each wish extends
Our husbands and our brothers are,
The fathers of this blooming pair,
Our lovers and our friends.
