my next letter shall be short and speedy, and I will not always put
myself under the shameful necessity of employing the first page in
worthless Apologies. On the present occasion I will not excuse myself
by saying (what is true enough) that I waited week after week in
hopes of hearing from you. As our last letters crossed each other,
you might reasonably entertain the same expectation, and thus it is
that poor miserable mortals try to provide a decent colour for their
own lazyness. You will expect some account of the time of silence,
and that account will be short and satisfactory. I am no longer in
the illusions of the Honey-moon, when every deformity is concealed,
and a smooth deceitful gloss is given to every object.
[Sidenote: A YOUNG MAN AT FIFTY.]
In the space of two and twenty months, the Climate and Society of
Lausanne, my own situation and expence, the character of my companion
and of my looser connections of both sexes are perfectly understood.
The Climate in these two Winters has shewn itself to all Europe, more
strongly perhaps to us, under the most hideous form, severe cold,
and a continuance or repetition of snow till the middle of April. In
general my health has perfectly sustained the rigour of the season;
good spirits, good appetite, good sleep are my habitual state, and
though verging towards fifty I still feel myself a young man. I was
in hopes that my old Enemy the Gout had given over the attack, but
the Villain, with his ally the winter, convinced me of my error, and
about the latter end of March I found myself a prisoner in my library
and my great chair. I attempted twice to rise, he twice knocked me
down again, and kept possession of both my feet and knees longer (I
must confess) than he had ever done before. My recovery has been
proportionably tedious, and I am hardly yet in possession of my full
strength; this admonition calls for some extraordinary care, and
without running into sudden extremes, I consult both my reason and
my taste by abstaining at night from wine and meat, and contenting
myself with a bason of milk.
Such are the drawbacks on the comforts of life, yet I am pleased
to think that my gout, though it has adhered somewhat longer than
usual, is neither sharp nor frequent, and respectfully confines
itself to the lower extremities of the Machine. Of the Country I must
not complain, this dry Climate is particularly favourable to gouty
constitutions; Dr. Tissot and my own observation inform me that it is
rare among the natives, and among my acquaintance I can only name one
old Gentleman, who by free living acquired it about the age of three
score. My unpleasant and sometimes painful confinement was soothed
not only by the mercenary aid of Servants and Physicians (the fee
of a visit is about half a crown), but by the assiduous offices of
my friends, and instead of the lonesome time an invalid who has not
a family must pass amidst the crowds of London, I had the frequent
visits of agreable men and women and a party of cards every evening
that I chose it.
I do not suppose that real affection, especially to a stranger, is a
very plentiful commodity, but here there are much fewer avocations
of business or pleasure, and my style of living, my house, my table,
&c., make me a man of mark and consequence. With the recovery of my
strength, I now return civilities, relax my studies, and visit my
acquaintance who are not gone; but so well do I like this habitation,
and such is my sedentary disposition, that I have not yet lain from
Home, nor gone five miles from Lausanne. You will give me credit
when I say, that, though a lover of society, my library is the room
to which I am the most attached. I almost hesitate whether I shall
tell you that the prospect and furniture are equally agreable, that
a reasonable number of my books is arrived from England, and that
my whole establishment is formed upon a comfortable yet œconomical
plan: in the single articles of house-rent, carriage, servants'
wages, clubs, and public places I save between four and five hundred
a year. And let me appeal to your reason and spirit whether such a
saving be not as real and a much more honourable addition of income,
than a pityful, precarious place or pension to be held or lost by
the caprice of a Minister or the Revolutions of politics. When I was
flattered with a _distant_ hope of a seat at the boards of customs
or excise, I was told that I need not work above five days in the
week, and that I should sometimes enjoy the respite of Holydays and
Vacations. Without any attendance or obligation I have given myself
a state of leisure and independence, in which my labour is only
employed on litterary pursuits, the objects of my choice and the
foundation of my fame.
As every white spot in this life is clouded with a shade of black, I
can only lament that this state is so far remote from the best and
most faithful of my friends, so faithful and so true that they will
enjoy my happiness though they cannot be witnesses or partakers of
it. On my side, I think _of_ them much oftener than I write _to_
them, and warmly cherish the hope of an English Journey to them; the
time must depend on the completion of my history, and I am sorry to
observe that as I advance on my Journey "New Alps on Alps arise;" and
I know not when I shall reach the shelter of my Inn.
[Sidenote: CHANGES IN ENGLISH POLITICS.]
After yourself and Mrs. Porten, Lord and Lady Sheffield are the
persons whom I most desire to see. Among my companions of the World
are undoubtedly several whom I regard and of whose good wishes I am
persuaded; yet those slighter tyes are insensibly relaxed by the
distance of time and place, by the interposition of new objects. My
political connections have undergone such astonishing changes, a new
Parliament, a new Administration, Patriots whom I left Ministers,
Ministers whom I left Boys, the whole Map of the Country so totally
altered, that I sometimes imagine I have been ten years absent from
England. That incessant hurry of Politicks was indeed one of the
things which disgusted the most, and there is nothing pleases me
so much in this country as to enjoy all the blessings of a Good
Government without ever talking or thinking of our Governors. In my
domestic Government a great though not unexpected Revolution has
happened. Caplen, unable to accustom himself to the language or
manners of this country, resigned his employments and returned to
England the beginning of last winter. You may easily conceive my loss
and apprehension, and you will rejoyce in my good fortune that I was
able to fill his place with no unworthy successor; a servant of this
country, but who had lived with a Lady at Paris till her death--a
man of substance and reputation, and who on the tryal of some months
appears to deserve my confidence and good opinion. We are already
thoroughly accustomed to each other. Adieu. My Dear Madam, may our
correspondence be more frequent, and may I find you on my return in
the possession of every blessing.
Most truly yours,
E. G.
501.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Lausanne, September 5th, 1785.
*Extract from a weekly English paper, September 5th, 1785.--"It is
reported, but we hope without foundation, that the celebrated Mr.
Gibbon, who had retired to Lausanne in Switzerland to finish his
valuable history, lately died in that city."
The hope of the News writer is very handsome and obliging to the
historian; yet there are several weighty reasons which would incline
me to believe that the intelligence may be true. _Primo_, It must
one day be true; and therefore may very probably be so at present.
_Secundo_, We may always depend on the impartiality, accuracy, and
veracity of an English newspaper. _Tertio_, which is indeed the
strongest argument, we are credibly informed that for a long time
past the said celebrated historian has not written to any of his
friends in England; and as that respectable personnage had always
the reputation of a most exact and regular correspondent, it may be
fairly concluded from his silence, that he either is, or ought to be,
dead. The only objection that I can foresee, is the assurance that
Mr. G---- himself read the article as he was eating his breakfast,
and laughed very heartily at the mistake of his brother historian;
but as he might be desirous of concealing that unpleasant event, we
shall not insist on his apparent health and spirits, which might be
affected by that subtle politician. He affirms, however, not only
that he is alive, and was so on the fifth of September, but that his
head, his heart, his stomach, are in the most perfect state, and that
the Climate of Lausanne has been congenial both to his mind and body.
He confesses, indeed, that after the last severe winter, the Gout,
his old enemy, from whom he hoped to have escaped, pursued him to
his retreat among the mountains of Helvetia, and that the siege was
long, though more languid than in his precedent attacks; after some
exercise of patience he began to creep, and gradually to walk; and
though he can neither run, nor fly, nor dance, he supports himself
with grace and firmness on his two legs, and would willingly kick the
impertinent Gazetteer; impertinent enough, though more easily to be
forgiven than the insolent Courier du Bas Rhin, who about three years
ago amused himself and his readers with a fictitious Epistle from Mr.
Gibbon to Dr. Robertson.
[Sidenote: A CURIOUS QUESTION OF PHILOSOPHY.]
Perhaps now you think, Irish Baron, that I shall apologize in humble
style for my silence and neglect. But, on the contrary, I do assure
you that I am truly provoked at your Lordship's not condescending to
be in a passion. I might really have been dead, I might have been
sick; if I were neither dead nor sick, I deserved a volley of curses
and reproaches for my infernal laziness, and you have defrauded me
of my just dues. Had I been silent till Christmas, till Doomsday,
you would never have thought it worth your while to abuse me. "Why,
then," (let me ask in your name and language, 'you damned beast'),
"did you not write before?" That is indeed a very curious question
of natural and moral Philosophy. Certainly I am not lazy; elaborate
quartos have proved, and will abundantly prove my diligence. I _can_
write; spare my modesty on that subject. I like to converse with my
friends by pen or tongue, and as soon as I can set myself a going, I
know no moments that run off more pleasantly. I am so well convinced
of that truth, and so much ashamed of forcing people that I love to
forget me, that I have now resolved to set apart the first hour of
each day for the discharge of my obligations; beginning _comme de
raison_, with yourself, and regularly proceeding to Lord Loughborough
and the rest. May Heaven give me strength and grace to accomplish
this laudable intention! Amen.
Certainly (yet I do not know whether it be so certain) I should write
much oftener to you, if we were not linked in business, and if my
business had not always been of the unpleasant and mortifying kind.
Even now I shove the ugly monster to the end of this epistle, and
will confine him to a page by himself, that he may not infect the
purer air of our correspondence. Of my situation here I have little
new to say, except a very comfortable and singular truth, that my
passion for my wife or mistress (Fanny Lausanne) is not palled by
satiety and possession of two years. I have seen her in all seasons
and in all humours, and though she is not without faults, they are
infinitely over-balanced by her good qualities. Her face is not
handsome, but her person, and every thing about her, has admirable
grace and beauty: she is of a very chearful, sociable temper; without
much learning, she is endowed with taste and good sense; and though
not rich, the simplicity of her education makes her a very good
economist; she is forbid by her parents to wear any expensive finery;
and though her limbs are not much calculated for walking, she has not
yet asked me to keep her a Coach.
Last spring (not to wear the metaphor to rags) I saw Lausanne in a
new light, during my long fit of the Gout; and must boldly declare,
that either in health or sickness I find it far more comfortable than
your huge metropolis. In London my confinement was sad and solitary;
the many forgot my existence when they saw me no longer at Brookes's;
and the few, who sometimes cast a thought or an eye on their friend,
were detained by business or pleasure, the distance of the way, or
the hours of the house of commons; and I was proud and happy if I
could prevail on Elmsley to enliven the dullness of the Evening. Here
the objects are nearer, and more distinct, and I myself am an object
of much larger magnitude. People are not kinder, but they are more
idle, and it must be confessed that, of all nations on the globe,
the English are the least attentive to the old and infirm; I do not
mean in acts of charity, but in the offices of civil life. During
three months I have had round my chair a succession of agreeable
men and women, who came with a smile, and vanished at a nod; and as
soon as it was agreeable I had a constant party at cards, which was
sometimes dismissed to their respective homes, and sometimes detained
by Deyverdun to supper, without the least trouble or inconvenience
to myself. In a word, my plan has most compleatly answered; and I
solemnly protest, after two years' tryal, that I have never in a
single moment repented of my transmigration.
[Sidenote: HIS COUNTRYMEN AT LAUSANNE.]
The only disagreeable circumstance is the encrease of a race of
animals with which this country has been long infested, and who are
said to come from an island in the Northern Ocean. I am told, but
it seems incredible, that upwards of 40,000 English, masters and
servants, are now absent on the continent; and I am sure we have
our full proportion, both in town and country, from the month of
June to that of October. The occupations of the Closet, indifferent
health, want of horses, in some measure plead my excuse; yet I do
too much to please myself, and probably too little to satisfy my
Countrymen. What is still more unlucky is, that a part of the Colony
of this present year are really good company, people one knows, &c.;
the Astons,[99] Hales, Hampdens, Trevors,[100] Lady Clarges[101]
and Miss Carter (_her Sappho_), Lord Northington,[102] &c. I have
seen Trevor several times, who talks of you, and seems to be a more
exact correspondent than myself. _His wife_ is much improved by her
diplomatic life, and shines in every company, as a woman of fashion
and elegance. But those who have repaid me for the rest were Lord and
Lady Spencer.[103] I saw them almost every day, at my house or their
own, during their stay of a month; for they were hastening to Italy,
that they might return to London next February. He is a valuable man,
and where he is familiar, a pleasant Companion; she a charming woman,
who, with sense and spirit, has the simplicity and playfulness of a
child. You are not ignorant of her talents, of which she has left me
an agreable specimen, a drawing of the Historic muse, sitting in a
thoughtful posture to compose.
So much of self and Co. Let us now talk a little of your house and
your two Countries. Does my Lady ever join in the abuse which I
have merited from you? Is she satisfied with her own behaviour,
her unpardonable silence, to one of the prettiest, most obliging,
most entertaining, most &c. Epistles that ever was penned since the
Epistles of Paul of Tarsus? Will she not _mew_ one word of reply?
I want some account of her spirits, health, amusements, of the
womanly accomplishments of Maria, and the opening graces of Louisa:
of yourself I wish to have some of those details which she is much
more likely to transmit. Are you patient in your exclusion from the
House? Are you satisfied with legislating with your pen? Do you pass
the whole winter in town? Have you resumed the pursuits of farming,
&c.? What new connexions, public or private, have you formed? A tour
to the Continent would be the best medicine for the shattered nerves
of a soldier and politician. By this expression you will perceive
that your letter to Deyverdun is received; it landed last post,
after I had already written the two first pages of this composition.
On the whole, my friend was pleased and flattered: but instead of
surrendering or capitulating, he seems to be making preparations for
an obstinate defence. He already talks of the right of possession,
of the duties of a good Citizen, of a writ _ne exeat Regno_, and
of a vote of the two hundred, that whosoever shall, directly or
indirectly, &c., is an Enemy to his Country. Between you be the
strife, while I sit with my scales in my hand, like Jupiter on Mount
Ida.
[Sidenote: SENSE OR NONSENSE OF IRISH PARLIAMENTS.]
I begin to view with the same indifference the combat of Achilles
Pitt and Hector Fox; for such as it should now seem, must be the
comparison of the two Warriors.* Lord Northington, who is firm in his
party, assures me that the popularity of the young Minister, and even
the opinion of his abilities, have considerably diminished; but he
confesses that such, or much greater, diminution will not weaken his
influence in the Parliament, and must tend to promote his favour and
confidence in a certain place. *At this distance I am much less angry
with bills, taxes, and propositions, than I am pleased with Pitt for
making a friend and a deserving man happy, for releasing poor Batt
from the shackles of the law, and for enhancing the gift of a secure
and honourable competency, by the handsome unsolicited manner in
which it was conferred. This I understand to be the case, from the
unsuspicious evidence of Lord N. and Chief Baron Skinner; and if I
can find time (_resolution_) I will send him a hearty congratulation;
if I fail, you may at least communicate my intentions. Of Ireland I
know nothing, and while I am Writing the decline of a great Empire,
I have not leisure to attend to the affairs of a remote and petty
province. I see that your friend Foster[104] has been hooted by
the Mob, and unanimously chosen Speaker by the House of Commons.
How could Pitt expose himself to the disgrace of withdrawing his
propositions after a public attempt?[105] Have ministers no way of
computing beforehand the sense or nonsense of an Irish parliament?
I am quite in the dark; your pamphlet, or book, would probably have
opened my eyes; but whatever may have been the reason, I give you
_my word of honour_ that I have never seen nor heard of it. Here we
are much more engaged with Continental politics. In general we hate
the emperor,[106] as the enemy of peace, without daring to make War.
The old Lyon of Prussia[107] acts a much more glorious part, as the
Champion of public tranquillity, and the independence of the German
states.
And now for the bitter and nauseous pill of pecuniary business, upon
which I shall be as concise as possible in the two articles of my
discourse, land and money.* And concise indeed I may be according
to the slender proportion of either that is now left. You sometimes
accuse me of not reading or remembering the most important points of
your despatches: may I not equally complain that you pass in silence
all my enquiries and requests on the subject of Buriton? In the
space of two years I have never received a line of intelligence from
Hugonin concerning the state of that last and dearest possession. And
as far as I can judge from Gosling's confused account, which records
only dates and names, a portion, not a very small one, of the rent
remains unpaid, or has been sunk in unknown charges and expences. Let
me therefore repeat perhaps more clearly what I have already desired.
1. That you would correspond with Hugonin, and obtain from him a
correct mercantile account of debtor and creditor of rents and
payments for the aforesaid two years.
2. That if there remains any arrears, you would propose and enforce
the most vigorous measures for my prompt and entire satisfaction.
3. That as there must be deducted from this year's rents a
considerable fine to Magdalen College for Horn, Hugonin at your
instigation would cast about to see whether he cannot perceive any
extraordinary means of supply in the timber way. A dozen years
have now elapsed since the first Cut of the Hanger. May not those
_underwoods_ be again ripe for the Axe? You know I consider only
present profit, and disregard all future improvements and rural
beauty. A beast, you will say. Alas, why do hard circumstances force
me to be one?
4. That you would manage, if it can be done without _offence_ or
expence, the substitution of Richard Andrews, in the place of
Hugonin, a clear-sighted Agent for a blind Gentleman. I fear nothing
more is to be expected from Lenborough, but as you seem quiet, I
entertain a faint hope that Harris's bond has been discharged from
the rent or purchase money. You have done no more than I expected
in assuring me that the £500 shall be ready at Goslings', but I
should be sorry to distress you, or to lay your generous spirit
under any obligations to a purse-proud Cit. If they will readily
take your bond, and allow me credit for the sum before the 1st of
December for January next, it will be the readiest and most private
way. Otherwise I can have recourse to another expedient, of desiring
the Darrels either to sell an equivalent part of my short annuity,
or, if the funds are too low, to advance me the _desideratum_ on a
security which is in their own hands. When I am possessed of the
money in one way or another I will take a view of my former credit
with Gosling (a small credit, I trow) of this additional supply of
my debts, expences, and resources, and I hope I shall be able to
discharge at least the remainder of Newton's bill. But I must not
impoverish myself too, and I have some thoughts of keeping the rest
of my library (if not troublesome to Downing Street) till my return
to England.
[Sidenote: DELAYS IN HIS HISTORY.]
*It is impossible to hate more than I do this odious necessity of
owing, borrowing, anticipating; and I look forwards with impatience
to the happy period when the supplies will always be raised within
the year, with a decent and useful surplus in the treasury. Had it
not been for the cursed dissolution of Parliament, such would already
have been the case. I now trust to the conclusion of my History, and
it will hasten and secure the principal comforts of my life. You will
believe I am not lazy; yet I fear the term is somewhat more distant
than I thought. My long gout lost me three months in the spring;
in every great work unforeseen [obstacles], and difficulties, and
delays will arise; and I should be rather sorry than surprized if
next autumn was postponed to the ensuing spring. If My Lady (a good
creature) should write to Mrs. Porten, she may convey news of my life
and health, without saying anything of this _possible_ delay. Adieu.
I embrace, &c.*
[99] Sir Willoughby Aston, the last baronet, married, in 1772,
Lady Jane Henley, sister of Lord Northington, and died in 1815,
without children.
[100] The Hon. John Hampden Trevor, second son of Lord Hampden,
was British Envoy at the Court of Turin, 1783-99. He married, in
1773, Harriot, only daughter of the Rev. Daniel Barton, Canon of
Christ Church.
[101] Lady Clarges (_née_ Skrine) was the widow of Sir Thomas
Clarges, third baronet, M.P. for Lincoln, who died in 1783.
[102] Second Lord Northington, formerly M.P. for Hampshire.
[103] Lord Spencer, who succeeded his father as second Earl
Spencer in 1783, married Lady Lavinia Bingham, eldest daughter of
the first Earl of Lucan.
[104] The Right Hon. John Foster, Lord Oriel (1740-1828),
Chancellor of the Exchequer in Ireland (1784), Speaker of the
Irish House of Commons (1785-1800), was the author of the Irish
Corn Law of 1784, the founder of the National Bank, and closely
connected with Lord Sheffield by their common interests in
commercial and financial questions. He was elected Speaker August
15, 1785.
[105] Commissioners had been appointed to draw up a scheme for
regulating the commercial intercourse of Great Britain and
Ireland. Pitt's eleven propositions for the development of Irish
Trade, in their original form, were practically rejected by the
Irish Parliament in February, 1785. Remodelled, and increased
to twenty, they were laid before the English House of Commons
in May, 1785, and a Bill based on them was read the first time
in July. This Bill was then introduced into the Irish House on
August 12; but it was carried by so small a majority (127 to 108)
that it was abandoned.