once had a sight of them; but my imagination, fatigued with invention,
wished for some real place which might serve it as a point to rest upon,
and create in me an illusion with respect to the real existence of the
inhabitants I intended to place there. I thought a good while upon the
Boromean Islands, the delightful prospect of which had transported me,
but I found in them too much art and ornament for my lovers. I however
wanted a lake, and I concluded by making choice of that about which my
heart has never ceased to wander. I fixed myself upon that part of the
banks of this lake where my wishes have long since placed my residence in
the imaginary happiness to which fate has confined me. The native place
of my poor mamma had still for me a charm. The contrast of the
situations, the richness and variety of the sites, the magnificence, the
majesty of the whole, which ravishes the senses, affects, the heart, and
elevates the mind, determined me to give it the preference, and I placed
my young pupils at Vervey. This is what I imagined at the first sketch;
the rest was not added until afterwards.

I for a long time confined myself to this vague plan, because it was
sufficient to fill my imagination with agreeable objects, and my heart
with sentiments in which it delighted. These fictions, by frequently
presenting themselves, at length gained a consistence, and took in my
mind a determined form. I then had an inclination to express upon paper
some of the situations fancy presented to me, and, recollecting
everything I had felt during my youth, thus, in some measure, gave an
object to that desire of loving, which I had never been able to satisfy,
and by which I felt myself consumed.

I first wrote a few incoherent letters, and when I afterwards wished to
give them connection, I frequently found a difficulty in doing it. What
is scarcely credible, although most strictly true, is my having written