in England to have had your full share of the general hardship: but
in this corner, surrounded by the Alps, it has rather been long than
rigorous; and its duration stole away our spring, and left us no
interval between furs and silks. We now enjoy the genial influence of
the Climate and the Season; and no station was ever more calculated
to enjoy them than Deyverdun's house and garden, which are now become
my own. You will not expect that the pen should describe, what
the pencil would imperfectly delineate. A few circumstances may,
however, be mentioned. My library is about the same size with that
in Bentinck Street, with this difference, however, that instead of
looking on a paved court twelve feet square, I command a boundless
prospect of vale, mountain, and water, from my three windows; my
apartment is compleated by a spacious light closet, or store-room,
with a bed-chamber and dressing-room. Deyverdun's habitation is
pleasant and convenient, though less extensive: for our common use we
have a very handsome winter apartment of four rooms; and on the
ground-floor, two cool saloons for the summer, with a sufficiency,
or rather superfluity, of offices, &c. A Terrace, one hundred yards
long, extends beyond the front of the House, and leads to a close
impenetrable shrubbery; and from thence the circuit of a long and
various walk, carries me round a meadow and vineyard. The intervals
afford abundant supply of fruit, and every sort of vegetables; and
if you add, that this villa (which has been much ornamented by my
friend) touches the best and most sociable part of the town, you will
agree with me, that few persons, either princes or philosophers,
enjoy a more desirable residence.
Deyverdun, who is proud of his own works, often walks me round,
pointing out, with knowledge and enthusiasm, the beauties that
change with every step and with every variation of light. I share,
or at least I sympathize, with his pleasure: he appears content
with my progress, and has already told several people, that he does
not despair of making me a Gardener. Be that as it may, you will
be glad to hear that I am, by my own choice, infinitely more in
motion, and in the open air, than I ever have been formerly. Yet my
perfect liberty and leisure leave me many studious hours; and as the
circle of our acquaintance retire into the Country, I shall be much
less engaged in company and diversion. I have seriously resumed the
prosecution of my history; each day and each month adds something to
the completion of the great work. The progress is slow, the labour
continual, and the end remote and uncertain. Yet every day brings
its amusement, as well as labour; and though I dare not fix a term,
even in my own fancy, I advance, with the pleasing reflection, that
the business of publication (should I be detained here so long) must
enforce my return to England, and restore me to the best of mothers
and friends.
With health and competence, with a full independence of mind and
action, a delightful habitation, a true friend, and many pleasant
acquaintance, you will allow, in the meanwhile, that I am rather
an object of envy than pity; and if you were more conversant with
the use of the French language, I would seriously propose to you
to repose yourself with us in this fine country. But my indirect
intelligence (on which I sometimes depend with more implicit faith
than on the kind dissimulation of your friendship) gives me reason to
hope that the last winter has been more favourable to your health
than the preceding one. Assure me of it yourself honestly and truly,
and you will afford me one of the most lively pleasures* that I am
capable of receiving. Write soon, and _indeed_ I will not be so tardy
in my answer. Caplin presents his duty to you. You will be sorry to
hear that he _seems_ tolerably satisfied, and talks French (when I am
not present) like a magpye. The English who have passed the Winter
at Nice, Lady Pembroke, &c., are flocking here. I am civil without
living among them, but you will rejoyce to hear that Mr. and Madame
Necker pass the summer in our neighbourhood. I must request a short
delay in your Midsummer draught as I am ignorant whether some money
is paid in, but it need not exceed a fortnight or three weeks. Adieu.
495.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Lausanne, June 19th, 1784.
The Goslings cannot do a handsome thing with a tolerable grace. They
have accepted and paid Lessert's draught, but instead of taking
your word or note or bond, for the entire sum as a separate loan,
they have eked it out by squeezing to the last drop of between £300
and 400 of my cash in their hands without leaving me a shilling to
supply the necessary and current demands. Alas, poor Lymington!! By
this post I write to them, as well as to the Darrels, and one way
or another I must create some temporary credit till the business of
Lenborough is settled. When in the Devil's name (for to him most
rightfully belong all money transactions) will it be concluded?
Originally the purchase-money was to be paid in February, we are now
in the middle of June. You have never suggested any impediments;
even in your last you say it is in a fair way, yet surely four or
five extraordinary months exceed even the common forms and delays of
lawyers, auctioneers, and all that unfeeling race of men. I cannot
suspect your friendship or diligence, yet possibly the Coventry
election and your more early retreat to Sheffield may have thrown
you a little out of the road: but I trust that you will soon recover
your lost ground (if any) and finish the race with speed and success.
You are sensible that it will deliver me from the remnant of my
Worldly anxieties. If the purchaser is an honest and responsible man,
might he not be persuaded to advance £500 on the purchase-money; no
uncommon favour, and which now would be most singularly acceptable.
If, on the other hand, he shuffles through weakness of mind or purse,
I could support (in my present regular economy) the idea of reserving
the Estate till more prosperous times, and of finding some real or
_personal_ security for the money which the Goslings have advanced.
[Sidenote: HIS HOSPITALITIES.]
*In this glorious season I frequently give tea and supper to a dozen
men and women with ease and reputation, and heartily wish you and My
Lady were among them. In this corner of Europe we enjoy, or shall
speedily enjoy, (besides threescore English, with Lady Pembroke,
and forty French, with the Duchess de Sivrac at their head), M. et
Madame Necker, the Abbé Raynal, the Hereditary prince of Brunswick,
Prince Henry of Prussia,[94] perhaps the Duke of Cumberland; yet I am
still more content with the humble natives, than with _most_ of these
_illustrious names_. Adieu. The post is on the wing, and you owe me a
long Epistle. I am, as usual, in the firm intention of writing next
week to my lady.* I hear from Ostend of the landing of four boxes:
but I know not whether the Wedgewood is among them. If not, I hope it
will soon follow. Adieu.
Could you not write to Gosling to release my poor Cash, and to take
the whole of Lessert's sum on yourself?
[94] Prince Henry of Prussia, brother of Frederick the Great,
was one of the most brilliant soldiers of the day. His relief of
Breslau (1760) and victory at Freyberg (1762) were turning-points
in the Seven Years' War. In the War of Bavarian Succession he
maintained his position in Bohemia against the Austrian troops
(1778-9). He was offered the crown of Poland in 1764, and in 1784
had been envoy at the court of Louis XVI. He died in 1802.
496.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Lausanne, October 18th, 1784.
*Since my retreat to Lausanne our Correspondence has never received
so long an interruption; and as I have been equally taciturn with
the rest of the English World, it may now be a problem among that
sceptical nation, whether the historian of the decline and fall be a
living substance or an empty name. So tremendous is the sleepy power
of laziness and habit, that the silence of each post operated still
more strongly to benumb the hand, and to freeze the _Epistolary_ ink.
How or when I should have naturally awakened, I cannot tell; but the
pressure of my affairs, and the arrival of your last letter, compell
me to remember that you are entrusted with the final amputation of
the best limb of my property. The subject is in itself so painful,
that I have postponed it, like a child's physic, from day to day;
and losing whole mornings, as I walked about my library, in useless
regret and impotent resolution. You will be amazed to hear that
(after peeping to see that you were well, and returned from Ireland)
I have not yet had the courage to peruse your letter, for fear of
meeting with some gloomy intelligence; and I will now finish what I
have to say of pecuniary matters, before I know whether its contents
will fortify or overthrow my unbyassed sentiments.*
About three weeks ago I received the conveyance of Lenbourough, and
immediatly executed the deeds in the presence of the Hon^{ble} and
Reverend Edward Conway, and Mr. Jones of Ireland, a nephew of Lord
Tyrone. A coach was setting off, and the writings properly packed
were directed to Mr. Elmsley, and in the inner Cover to L^d Sheffield
to be left till called for: before this time they should be safe in
London; the purchaser is said to be impatient. I am so likewise, and
nothing (I should apprehend) can prevent you from delivering the
land and receiving the Money. The miserable state of the funds must
excuse the lowness of the price, and annihilate any probable benefit
of a short delay: but when I look back (a foolish retrospect!) to our
moderate expectation of £20,000 and calculate the interest, money,
costs, vexations, &c., of eleven Years, I cannot look upon myself
as a _very_ successful man. Consider that since my departure I have
fairly or foully lost at least £2000 on which I might depend with the
most rational confidence, £1000 on the abatement of the Lenborough
price, and £1000 by the dissolution of Parliament. *To what purpose
(you will say) are these tardy and useless repinings? To arraign your
manager? No, I am satisfied with the skill and firmness of the pilot,
and only complain of the untoward violence of the tempest. To repent
of your retreat into Switzerland? No, surely, every subsequent event
has tended to make it as necessary as it has proved agreeable. Why
then these lamentations? Hear and attend.
[Sidenote: HIS PECUNIARY AFFAIRS.]
It is to interest (if possible more strongly) your zeal and
friendship, to justify a sort of avarice, of a love of money, very
foreign to my character, but with which I cling to these last
fragments of my fortune.* According to the terms of the conveyance,
£12,000 are destined for the Goslings and £3500 for me, in all
£15,500: yet I am almost sure that you mentioned £15,650 as the
entire price. Of this remainder, Gosling will instantly seize his
reimbursement of the Paris sum, £300 bond and, as I fear, some small
arrears of interest. Besides this Harris's heirs have made a just
claim; Way's damned hundred Guineas I cannot digest, and a long
unknown bill of Newton rises to my imagination in all its horrors.
Of tradesmen's debts I have left none behind me except about 300
pounds for the hire of horses to Whitehead and the purchase of books
to Elmsley. When all these demands are summed and discharged, I
tremble at the balance, and indeed I have found through life that I
had always more to pay, and less to receive, than I expected. *As
far as I can judge from the experience of a year, though I find
Lausanne much more expensive than I imagined, yet my style of living
(and a very handsome style it is) will be brought _nearly_ within my
ordinary revenues. I wish our poor Country could say as much! But it
was always my favourite and rational wish, that at the winding up of
my affairs I might possess a sum from one to two thousand pounds,
neither buried in land, nor locked up in the funds, but free, light,
and ready to obey any call of interest, or pleasure, or virtue;
to defray any extraordinary expence, support any delay, or remove
any obstacle. For the attainment of this object, I trust in your
assistance.*
First, I must desire you to call in the bills (particularly Newton's)
to cast up the amount of all the deductions on the £3500, and to send
me the list, but to pay as little of it as you possibly can (except
the Goslings), till you have heard again from me. I am sensible
however that the residue can scarcely by any contrivance be brought
even to the smallest of the above-mentioned sums (£1000), and here
your friendship must again interpose to engage the Goslings to
supply that deficiency on our Joint-bond. The money (I could wish it
were £1500 in all) I should probably vest in India bonds, and the
difference of ½ or of 1 per Cent. would be no formidable tax. At
the end of three or four years I should be sure of replacing the
principal from the profits of my history, without indulging any
fanciful expectations from Aunt Hester, who complains a little of
your silence. *Thus much of this money transaction; to you I need add
no other stimulative, than to say that my ease and comfort very much
depend on the success of this plan.*
I have now opened your letter; send them to the Devil if they talk of
their moneys lying dead. Have I not been saddled with the interest
of my mortgage? From whom has the delay proceeded? did _they_ not
insist on sending the deeds to Lausanne? Have _I_ not returned them
with uncommon diligence? Since Hugonin will not write to me himself,
I must press and conjure him through you to get the rents paid on
or before the 1st of December. I know not what may be this College
business, but am glad to hear no more of the scruples of the Chief
tenant. Cannot Hug. pick me up some odd money from Wooddyer?
On folding my Epistle, it turned out so minute that a cover became
decent, and you will expect a few lines for your additional postage.
First of _me_. I cannot esteem myself totally foolish when I reflect
on the success of a scheme executed in opposition to the wisest of
my friends. I have now given this place a year's tryal, and find
that the climate agrees with my health, (I have not had a single
return of the gout) and the people, their manners, their way of life,
are suited to my Genius: some rubs will intervene, and even in my
domestic life neither Deyverdun nor myself are Angels, but on the
whole, I shall number _this_ among, or rather above, the Happiest of
my years, and nothing but your salutary hand to clear and establish
my pecuniary concerns is now wanting.
*As I thought every man of sense and fortune in Ireland must be
satisfied, I did not conceive the cloud so dark as you represent it.*
If the growth of the Papists could awaken the fears and prejudices
of the Protestants, it might be lucky, and the discovery of French
gold would do more good than mischief. *I will seriously peruse the
8^o, and in due time the 4^o Edition; it would become a Classic book,
if you could find leisure (will you ever find it?) to introduce
some kind of order and ornament. You must negotiate _directly_ with
Deyverdun; but the State will not hear of parting with their only
Reynolds.[95] I embrace My Lady; let her be angry, provided she be
well. Adieu. Yours.
P.S. The saving Ireland[96] may have amused you in the Summer; but
how do you mean to employ the Winter? Do you not cast a longing,
lingering look at St. Stephen's Chappel? With your fiery spirit, and
firm judgment, I almost wish you there; not for your benefit, but for
the public. If you resolve to recover your seat,* pay a specific sum
for a certain election,--rather than *listen to any fallacious and
infinite projects of interest, contest, return, petition, &c. Dixi.*
[95] His picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds.
[96] The Constitution of 1782 had not satisfied Ireland. The cry
was raised for parliamentary reform, and for the extension of
the franchise to Roman Catholics. Napper Tandy and his friends
held meetings with French emissaries; and an attempt was made to
convene a Congress of three hundred representatives at Dublin in
October, 1784, backed by the volunteers. The Lord Lieutenant, the
Duke of Rutland, acted with vigour, and the proposed Congress
collapsed. Lord Sheffield had taken part in the proceedings
against the magistrates of Roscommon and Leitrim, who had called
the meetings of representatives and signed the resolutions in
favour of parliamentary reform during the summer of 1784.
497.
_To Lady Sheffield._
Lausanne, October 22nd, 1784.
*A few weeks ago, as I was walking on our Terrace with Mr. Tissot,
the celebrated Physician, Mr. Mercier, the author of the Tableau de
Paris; the Abbé Raynal, Mr., Madame, and Mademoiselle Necker,[97] the
Abbé de Bourbon, a natural son of Lewis the fifteenth, the hereditary
prince of Brunswick, Prince Henry of Prussia, and a dozen Counts,
Barons, and extraordinary persons, among whom was a natural son of
the Empress of Russia----
Are you satisfied with this list? which I could enlarge and
embellish, without departing from truth; and was not the Baron of
Sheffield (profound as he is on the subject of the American trade)
doubly mistaken with regard to Gibbon and Lausanne? Whenever I used
to hint my design of retiring, that illustrious Baron, after a
proper effusion of damned fools, condescended to observe, that such
an obscure nook in Switzerland might please me in the ignorance of
youth, but that after tasting for so many years the various society
of Paris and London, I should soon be tired with the dull and uniform
round of a provincial town. In the winter, Lausanne is indeed reduced
to its native powers; but during the summer, it is possibly, after
Spa, one of the most favourite places of general resort. The voyage
of Switzerland, the Alps, and the Glaciers, is become a fashion;
Tissot attracts the Invalids, especially from France; and a Colony of
English have taken up the habit of spending their winters at Nice,
and their summers in the Pays de Vaud. Such are the splendour and
variety of our summer Visitors; and _you_ will agree with me more
readily than the Baron, when I say that this variety, instead of
being a merit, is, in my opinion, one of the very few objections to
the residence of Lausanne. After the dissipation of the winter, I
expected to have enjoyed, with more freedom and solitude, myself, my
friend, my books, and this delicious paradise; but my position and
character make me here a sort of a public character, and oblige me to
see and be seen. However, it is my firm resolution for next summer to
assume the independence of a Philosopher, and to be visible only to
the persons whom I like.
[Sidenote: MDLLE. NECKER AND PRINCE HENRY OF PRUSSIA.]
On that principle I should not, most assuredly, have avoided the
Neckers and Prince Henry. The former have purchased the Barony of
Copet near Geneva; and as the buildings were very much out of repair,
they passed this summer at a country-house at the gates of Lausanne.
They afford a new example, that persons who have tasted of greatness,
can seldom return with pleasure to a private station. In the moments
when we were alone he conversed with me freely, and I believe truly,
on the subject of his administration and fall; and has opened several
passages of modern history, which would make a very good figure in
_the_ American book. If they spent the summers at the Castle of
Copet, about nine leagues from hence, a fortnight's or three weeks'
visit would be a pleasant and healthful excursion; but, alas! I fear
there is little appearance of its being executed. _Her_ health is
impaired by the agitation of her mind: instead of returning to Paris,
she is ordered to pass the winter in the southern provinces of
France, and our last parting was solemn; as I very much doubt whether
I shall ever see her again. They have now a very troublesome charge,
which you will experience in a few years--the disposal of a Baroness.
Mademoiselle Necker, one of the greatest heiresses in Europe, is now
about eighteen--wild, vain, but good-natured, and with a much larger
provision of wit than beauty; what encreases their difficulties is
their Religious obstinacy of marrying her only to a Protestant. It
would be an excellent opportunity for a young Englishman of a great
name and a fair reputation. Prince Henry must be a man of sense;
for he took more notice, and expressed more esteem for me, than any
body else. He is certainly (without touching his military character)
a very lively and entertaining companion. He talked with freedom,
and generally with contempt, of most of the princes of Europe; with
respect of the Empress of Russia; but never mentioned the name of his
brother, except once, when he hinted that it was _he himself_ that
won the battle of Rosbach.
His nephew, and our nephew, the hereditary prince of Brunswick, is
here for his education, a soft and heavy piece of German dough. Of
the English, who have lived very much as a national colony, you will
like to hear of Mrs. Fraser and _one_ more. Donna Catherina pleases
every body by the perfect simplicity of her state of Nature, and I am
glad to see that her giddyness is often checked by a sad remembrance
of the General. You know she has had resolution to return from
England (where she told me she saw you) to Lausanne, for the sake of
Miss Bristow, who is in a very bad way, and in a few days they set
off for Nice. _The other_ is the Eliza; she passed through Lausanne,
in her road from Italy to England; poorly in health, but still
adorable, (nay, do not frown!) and I enjoyed some delightful hours by
her bedside. She wrote me a line from Paris, but has not executed her
promise of visiting Lausanne in the month of October.
My pen has run much faster, and much farther, than I intended on
the subject of others; yet, in describing them, I have thrown some
light over myself and my situation. A Year, a very short one, has
now elapsed since my arrival at Lausanne; and after a cool review of
my sentiments, I can sincerely declare, that I have never, during
a single moment, repented of having executed my _absurd_ project
of retiring to Lausanne. It is needless to dwell on the fatigue,
the hurry, the vexation which I must have felt in the narrow and
dirty circle of English Politics. My present life wants no foil, and
shines by its own native light. The chosen part of my library is now
arrived, and arranged in a room full as good as that in Bentinck
Street, with this difference indeed, that instead of looking on a
stone Court, twelve feet square, I command, from three windows of
plate glass, an unbounded prospect of many a league of vineyard,
of fields, of wood, of lake, and of mountains; a scene which Lord
S. will tell you is superior to all you can imagine. The climate,
though severe in Winter, has perfectly agreed with my constitution;
and the year is accomplished without any return of the gout. An
excellent house, a good table, a pleasant garden, are no contemptible
ingredients in human happiness. The general style of society
hits my fancy; I have cultivated a large and agreeable circle of
acquaintance, and am much deceived if I have not laid the foundations
of two or three more intimate and valuable connections; but their
names would be indifferent, and it would require pages, or rather
volumes, to describe their persons and characters.
With regard to my standing dish, my domestic friend, I could not
be much disappointed, after an intimacy of eight and twenty years.
His heart and his head are excellent; he has the warmest attachment
for me, he is satisfied that I have the same for him: some slight
imperfections must be mutually supported; two batchelors, who have
lived so long alone and independent, have their peculiar fancies and
humours, and when the mask of form and ceremony is laid aside, every
moment in a family life has not the sweetness of the honey moon, even
between the husbands and wives who have the truest and most tender
regard for each other.
Should you be very much surprized to hear of my being married?
Amazing as it may seem, I do assure you that the event is less
improbable than it would have appeared to myself a twelfthmonth ago.
Deyverdun and I have often agreed, in jest and in earnest, that a
house like ours would be regulated, and graced, and enlivened, by
an agreeable female Companion; but each of us seems desirous that
his friend should sacrifice himself for the public good. Since my
residence here I have lived much in women's company; and, to your
credit be it spoken, I like you better the more I see of you. Not
that I am in love with any particular person. I have discovered about
half a dozen _Wives_ who would please me in different ways, and by
various merits: one as a Mistress (a Widow, vastly like _the_ Eliza:
if she returns I am to bring them together); a second, a lively
entertaining acquaintance; a third, a sincere good-natured friend; a
fourth, who would represent with grace and dignity at the head of my
table and family; a fifth, an excellent economist and housekeeper;
and a sixth, a very useful nurse. Could I find all these qualities
united in a single person, I should dare to make my addresses, and
should deserve to be refused.*
[Sidenote: THE LOSS OF HIS VALET.]