Young Grandison, volume 1 (of 2) / A series of letters from young persons to their friends

by Madame de Cambon

PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, N^O 72, ST. PAUL’S CHURCH-YARD.

M DCC XC.

ADVERTISEMENT.

This work is translated from a more voluminous one in Dutch, written by Madame de Cambon, professedly for the instruction of young people.

The author has judiciously interspersed little introductory hints relative to natural philosophy; which, while they tend to awaken curiosity, lead to reflections calculated to expand the heart.

Indeed any instruction which has not evidently this tendency, will be found not only useless but pernicious; if it be allowed that a smattering of knowledge can never compensate for narrowing the heart by introducing vanity. And as it is much easier to dissipate ignorance than root out that degree of selfishness, which an endeavour to supplant others generally inspires, emulation should very cautiously be excited. On this account deviations, from the original were unavoidable; besides the editor apprehended that affectation rather than virtue may be produced by endeavouring, through a mistaken zeal, to bring the mind forward prematurely, as in all probability it will seldom afterwards reach that degree of strength which it might have acquired by gradual improvement. In short, the whole has been abridged, and material alterations made, to render it more extensively useful; some sentiments and incidents are thrown out, and others added, which were naturally suggested by the subjects: it would be needless to point out the alterations that have been made; they were, in the editor’s opinion, necessary. Productions intended for the instruction of youth, without aiming at the graces of higher compositions, should be as free from errors as possible; but above all, no narrow prejudices should be retained to cramp the understanding, or make it submit to any other authority than that of reason.

YOUNG GRANDISON.

LETTER I.
William D—— to his Mother:

You desired me to write to you, my dear mother. What a comfort it is to be able to converse with you in this way, now I am at such a distance, and cannot see you!

I did not find the journey fatiguing; I was not sea-sick—but I was sorrowful—very sorrowful, I assure you. You will say that I am childish, when I tell you, that, during the voyage, as often as I thought of the last kiss you gave me, I could scarcely restrain my tears, or mention your name without sobbing. I hid myself in a corner of the cabin, that I might weep freely without being seen: I was not ashamed of it; yet as the captain endeavoured to amuse me, I did not wish him to know that I was so very unhappy. Besides, my dear mother, my tears will not flow when any one looks at me;—but I will have done. I know you love me, and I would not willingly grieve you. My heart is lighter.