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AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 108
count, but which seemed to burst my young bosom, and
which sometimes filled it with a heaven and sometimes with
a hell. Like two all-consuming flames, the desire to know
and the desire to enjoy were burning in my soul, without
being satisfied for many long years. The mere sight of
certain words in a book,— words such as Truth, Liberty,
Glory, Immortality, — roused within me feelings which
vainly [ would try to describe. I wanted in some way or
other to give vent to and express the same; and I wrote
verses, theatrical pieces, and a thousand different kinds of
essays ; composed music, drew and painted pictures, some
of them greater trash than the others. I was brought out
into the world, went out visiting, went to evening parties,
balls, and concerts, and very rarely enjoyed myself any-
where except at the theatre, and there my soul was thrown
into a state of topsy-turvy.
My nose, naturally large, used to become illuminated in
hot places, and, I had almost said, become double its ordi-
nary size, darkening my prospects of pleasure and of ad-
mirers, which latter it kept at a distance. I have said it:
I was a coquette, and I became more and more a coquette
when I observed that I found favor with my parents in
proportion as I anywhere or in any thing was admired by
others. In company I frequently behaved in a ridiculous
manner, because it was utterly impossible for me to keep
my soul or my body quiet. Thence arose fresh troubles
for my mother, and consequently fresh troubles for me.
Du reste, my vivacity and my fraieheur, which, so long
as it did not concentrate itself into my nose, was rather
pretty, procured me admirers and flatterers, when we hap-
pened to be in any place of public entertainment. This
was a consolation to us both, namely, to my mother and to
myself. A young gentleman, betrothed to the daughter of
the oldest friend of my parents, came one day to pay them
a visit. He was exceedingly handsome, full of vigor and
life. I saw him for a couple of hours and — became en-
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