532 



Memoirs of Mr. Necker, by his Daughter. [Jan. T, 



It was pair.ful to him to be old. His 

 form, which had become clumfy, and 

 which rendered his motions difficult, tre- 

 ated in him a limiJity that diverted him 

 from mixing in the world. He got into 

 his carriage the moment he was obferved : 

 he only walked when he could not be feen. 

 In fine, his imagination loved the grace of 

 youth ; and fometimes he faid to me, " I 

 don t know why I am humiliated with the 

 infirmities of age, but I feel I am." — 

 And it was to this fentiment he was in- 

 debted fur being loved as a young man. — 

 I believe he was the only perfon in the 

 world who could infpire a mixture of re- 

 fpefl and intereft towards age, which 

 formed a fciling entirely new. 



The feeblenels of age, combining with 

 flrength of mind, juftnefs of wit, a true 

 appreciation of every thing at the moment 

 of leparaiion from all the treafures acquir- 

 ed by a long train of thought, that fen- 

 lib. li;y always combining with melan- 

 choly ideas, formed arojnd my faiher 

 Ibmething of the glory of futurity, a kird 

 of empyreal veil, which often made the 

 moft mournful imprefiion on me, an im- 

 pre^ion neverthelefs of love, an imprertif n 

 that a young m:in might excite, if he 

 were feized with a threatening confump- 

 tion, if a gloom hung over his exiftence, 

 and the feelings he created opprelTed the 

 heart that fought in vain to dil'mifs them. 



It might be cleaily feen that my father 

 partook of all the troubles of life, that he 

 oppofed no natural imprefllon of received 

 piaxims or of official councils, that he pe- 

 nstnted into your bofom to confole you, 

 and placed himfelf exaflly in yourpofition 

 to judge of your cafe. Nobody experi- 

 enced more than I that ingenuous bounty, 

 which made him conceive ■ the fentimenis 

 of another age, of another fituation than 

 his own, I Will not only fay with ju: ice, 

 but with a partiality againli himfelf. He 

 refided in a coimrry which was not my 

 country, where the faiences are infinitely 

 more cultivated than literature ; he was 

 fenfinly alive lo the misfurtune which made 

 me experience the contention of my taftes, 

 between my friends who called me back 

 to France, and t!;e pain of leaving lum 

 tv n for 3 few months. Ke took my pirt 

 againft others, fQi7ie!imes againft myfeif, 

 Bnd with tarne'ilnefs, when I now and 

 then reproached mylelf, in not knowing, 

 like liim, how to Uipport the want of that 

 emulation of thought and of diftinffion 

 which doubles life and its refourcrs ; he 

 encouraged me in my bias towards France, . 

 he cherifhed the recolleflions he had left 

 there> and endeavoured, to the utmoft of 



his power, to preferve that country to my 

 family. 



I law him. Oh Heaven ! for the laft 

 time, on that adieu the moff tender, the 

 moft fraught with the profpeft of a fpeedy 

 re-union, that our blind hopes had ever ex- 

 perienced. Mr. Mathieu de Montmo- 

 renci, whom the higheft virtues never di- 

 vert from the delicate attentions of friend- 

 ftiip; — Mr. de Mcntmorenci, already lb 

 refpeilable, and always generous, was 

 then at Coppet with me. He faw my fa- 

 ther employ himfelf in the fmalleft parti, 

 culars that related to my happinefs. He 

 faw him bkfs me : Ah I that bklTing, 

 which Heaven has not confirmed ! In 

 that abfence I was to lofe my father, brc. 

 tlier, friend ; he whom I would have 

 chofen as the fole object of my afFeftion, 

 had not Heaven created me in another ge- 

 neration. 



No one like him has ever imparted the 

 idea of a guarJianfhip almoft lupernatu- 

 ral. The charaiferiftic of his mind was 

 the art of finding refources in almoft all 

 difficulties, and jiis character was that rare 

 combination of prudence and aflivity 

 which provides for every thing without 

 compromifing any thing. During the 

 troubles in France, even when I was fe- 

 parated from him, I believed myfeif pie- 

 leived by him, I never imagined any 

 great misfortune could reach me. He 

 lived ; I was lure he would come to my 

 affiltance, and that his eloquent language 

 and vererable al'cendancy would have 

 fiiatched me from the receffes of a prifcn, 

 had I been thrown there. In writing to 

 him I almoft always called him my tutelar 

 angel. It wrs thus that I felt his influ- 

 ence ; and it feemed to me that the le- 

 fponfibility of my fate cnnctrned him 

 more than myfeif. I depended on him to 

 repair my faults : no'.hing appeared to 

 me with ut reiiiedy during his life. It 

 is only lince his de:ith that I have really 

 known terror, and that I have loft that 

 fanguine temper of yruth, which leans on 

 its own ftrrngih to obtain all it wiflies.— 

 My ftrcngfh was his ; my confidence was 

 derived from his lupport. Does this pi'o- 

 tefiing genius (liil exift around me .'— 

 Will he tell me what to hope or fear ? — 

 VVill he g-.iide my (ieps ? Will he extend 

 his wings over my children, whom he has 

 blrft with his dying voice ? And can I 

 difcern him fufficiently in my heart to 

 confult him and lilten to him ftill ? 



My father allowed me in his retirement 

 to conveil'ewith him many hours every 

 day. I never feared to inter: upt him, 

 and on ail fubjeils I aiked his opinion. — 



He 



