)806.J 



Memoirs of Mr, Neder, by his Daughter. 



533 



He compofed all his works at certain fixed 

 hours in the day, without ever having ne- 

 gleified either his bufinefs or his friends ; 

 and when I happened to go into his ftudy, 

 even during thefe hours, I was fure o( ob- 

 taining a look which told me it gave him 

 pleafure. Oh ! that look, that paternal 

 Welcome, I (hall never receive it again ! 

 I am there, in that very Itudy, furround- 

 ed by objefli that belt-nged to him, my 

 whole thought, my whole heart, calls on 

 him, but in vain ! Oh! what tben is that 

 barrier which Icparates the living from 

 thofe who are no more ! It muft needs be 

 terrible ; for a being fo good, a being who 

 fo much loved me, a v/itnefs of my de- 

 Ipair, fijrely if it were in his power would 

 come to my afllftance. 



One of the great charms of my iiiter- 

 fourfe with my father was his lively relifh 

 of all the events of life. He was not fond 

 of thefe converfations whxh turn merely 

 on aSftrafl queftions. He had I'uch a (lore 

 of ideas, that it was impoflible to furnifh 

 him with any new ones ; but as he was 

 particularly to be admired for his ac- 

 quaintance with the human heart, all that 

 tended to develope the charafters and 

 psflions of men fenfibly intercfted him. — 

 Nothing wearied him lb much as general 

 ideas when they were comm in. " Yes 

 (laid he to me once), I had rather a man 

 came and told mc the fimpleft fai5l, de- 

 fcribed to me what colour the carriage was 

 he had juft met in the ftreet, than to come, 

 like a fpark of the day, with ' I don't 

 know, Sir, whether you are of my way 

 of thinking, but it is my opinion that 

 felf-love is the great mobile of all our 

 actions,' or any other maxim equally 

 hackneyed." The talfe which I knew 

 belonged to my father for fails and for 

 charaftfrs, had induced me never to dif- 

 traft my attention trom thefe obje61s, and 

 I learnt nothing, I remarked noihing, that 

 I did notC'inneft with the itk-a of relating 

 or writing it to him. Wl-.en I was at a 

 diftance iViim my father I ftiil lived with 

 him by the pkal'ure of cjllefling all that 

 could give animation to our converfations 

 on his return, or by acquainting hitTi in 

 advance with all I knew. He h.Ts often 

 t..ld n:e that he deliitd nothing in the 

 wcrli but my rcci'als, and that it was 

 fuflicient to fend me abroad for them, to 

 tnjoy all their amulement without fatigue. 

 He iiilened with fo much iniereft, there 

 was fo much pleafure in telnng them to 

 him, that I ceafe to recognize myfelf, now 

 that my life is arretted, and I can no 

 longer give him an account of it. The 

 greatttt «ver,ti have palfed before me like 



Shadows J hi« refloftions, his thoughts, 

 his fentiments, could no' longer give them 

 a beiiig in my eyes. 



When I was abfent from him he was 

 conflanily prelent to me, not only from 

 his intereft in all the events of life, but 

 from his fiill more intimate concern for my 

 fate and that of my children. In my laft 

 and fatal journey what precautions did he 

 not devife to proeft me and my daughter 

 agamit what he called the dangers of the 

 road ! His adorable letters "sll cont?.!n 

 Jong details on this fubjtft, and fometimes 

 he even almoft apologized for it, in own- 

 ing that his continual uneafinels arofe 

 from paternal weaknefs. I was fo well 

 acquainted with that angelic weaknefs, I 

 enjoyed it with Co p.rjch voliiptuoufnefs, 

 that one day near Nauoiberg in Germany, 

 in our way to Berlin, mv daug'.iter and I 

 fell into the fnow, and when we were ex- 

 tricated, I tojk lb great a pleafure in re- 

 lating our adventure at Copper, to fee 

 him tremble for us in all that had palled, 

 vexing himfelf with me and thofe about 

 me. Ah I we are thus beloved only by a 

 father, by a father in years, who na 

 longer believes in the certainty of life j 

 our cotemporaiies are fo fanguine both 

 with rcfpedl to thernlelves and us • Delici- 

 ous proteftion ! that of a geiieruion which 

 precedes us. Dilinterelied love 1 love 

 that makes us feel every moment that we 

 are young, that we are beloved, that the 

 earth is liill our own 1 Ah ! when this 

 generation pafles away, we feel ourlelves 

 in our turn undicliered from death, and 

 left the foremuft to encounter him. 



In the fj-.ringof this terrible year I was 

 h^ippy in Geimany. I had recovered a 

 fpiiit of emulation by the relldence I had 

 made in a country lincere, enlightened, 

 enthulialtic, and which had deigned to re- 

 ceive the daughter of Mr. Ntckei-, as if 

 Germany had been the fpot where he had 

 confi crated his fortune, his virtues, and 

 his grn;us. In -he letteis of recommen- 

 dation my father had given me, he called 

 me " liis only ;uid cherilhcd daughter," 

 and noble minis thought well of her whom 

 fuch a mm had honoured with fuch z. 

 name, I know not whether Providence 

 deligiied that thf; thunder Ihould reach rre 

 in the midit of happinefs ; but iny mind, 

 chillii<:l by bitter ingratitu le, had been r>- 

 ftored i'l receiving a generous welcome — 

 I had formed plans of works to make 

 known the German literature in France; 

 I had collefted a world of notes to cor.- 

 verfe with my father, to arte his advice ct\ 

 fubje'^s of all defcriptions ; I had amufd 

 myfdf in calculating minutely on ihe A - 

 manack 



