Most truly yours,
E. GIBBON.
514.
_To his Stepmother._
Sheffield-place, Nov. 11th, 1787.
DEAR MADAM,
[Sidenote: HIS VISIT TO MRS. GIBBON.]
Besides my usual dislike to letter-writing for which you so
obligingly account, I have had an additional reason or excuse for my
silence in the weekly dispatches which are transmitted from hence
to Bath, and by which you are frequently apprized of my health and
good spirits, the only circumstances which I could transcribe from
this peaceful and uniform scene. It is with real pleasure that
I see the approaching period of my journey to Bath. I leave this
place next Sunday, and as I hope that a fortnight _may_ suffice for
some litterary business (consulting books, &c.) which can only be
dispatched in town, I reckon with confidence on the satisfaction
of embracing you at the Belvidere within a month from the present
time. As to my old enemy the gout, it is impossible to answer for
his motions, but I have not the slightest grounds to suspect him of
any hostile intentions. Lord Sheffield wishes to accompany me in
the journey and return, but so many obstacles may impede a man of
business, that I must not depend on him with any degree of assurance.
Will you be so good as to inform his sister how much I am obliged to
her for thinking so often and so kindly of me?
I wish it were in your power to give me a more favourable account
of your health, or at least of your strength, for I flatter myself
that it is in the latter you are chiefly deficient. I am not without
apprehension that the sight of a long-lost friend may exhaust your
spirits by too much painful pleasure. Be persuaded, my Dear Madam,
that you are the sole object of my journey, that I most sincerely
request that you will not contrive any dinners or parties for
my amusement, that my time will be most agreably spent in your
conversation, and that I could wish to enlarge the number of days
which my avocations in life and litterature will allow me to enjoy
at Bath. Do not give yourself the trouble of an answer, and expect a
line from town, as soon as I can fix the exact time of my departure.
Lord and Lady Sheffield wish me to convey in their names every wish
and sentiment of friendship.
I am, Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. G.
515.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Wednesday, Nov. 27.
The assurance that neither giants nor dragons were to be feared
between Sheffield Place and Pall Mall had induced me to leave to your
fancy or judgment the well-known circumstances of changing horses,
alighting from the chaise, surveying the lodging (bad and dear),
ordering a fowl from the Cocoa-tree, &c., &c., and I feel every day
the awkwardness of the six o'clock post. The first evening I passed
at home and had scarcely dined when the Poet Hayley was announced: he
embraced, forgave me, and we entered on a pleasant conversation of
two hours. I mentioned to him your Christmas plan: he is grateful,
but seems to decline it. However I shall see him again, and possibly
he may fall in your way.
You would make me vain; nor am I less touched by the growlings of my
lady, than by the praises of the Maria, whose probable excursion I
applaud. As yet I have chiefly attended to my litterary concerns, and
have only seen Crauford, the Lucans, Sir Joshua, &c. I have knocked
without success at Lord Loughborough's door, but shall dine with him
before the end of the week, perhaps with M. de Calonne,[115] who is
a favourite with all parties. Pitt in the _general_ opinion seems
to be the Hero of the day, and Lord Lucan, fresh from Paris, says
that nothing can equal the conscious shame of the French, except
their public abhorrence of the Queen, and their wild resolutions of
freedom. Take care of Severy,[116] I had rather he did not go to
Lewes: a set of drunken dragoons.
As I may not write again (do not be furious) I can positively say
that my departure for Bath is fixed for Saturday sennight, and that I
shall expect you, &c., on Thursday at latest. For the possession of
your house, I believe the Dutchess would scruple at few sacrifices
either pecuniary or _personal_. Could you resist? Do not imitate my
negligence in forgetting the herald John G.[117] He will make a great
figure at Bath. Adieu.
[115] Charles Alexandre de Calonne (1734-1802) was
Director-General of Finances from 1783 to 1787. By his advice
the Assembly of Notables was convened on February 22, 1787.
He laid before it the financial condition of the kingdom, and
proposed, among other measures, a land tax, the taxation of the
lands of the clergy, and, generally, the equalization of public
burdens. So great was the clamour against him, that in April he
resigned and took refuge in England. "I am entertained," writes
Lord Sheffield to William Eden, November 2, 1787, "with the
reception Calonne meets with in London. Lately he was the most
terrible peculator" (_Auckland Correspondence_, vol. i. p. 444).
He was succeeded by Cardinal de Brienne, Archbishop of Toulouse,
afterwards Archbishop of Sens.
[116] Wilhelm de Severy, the son of Gibbon's friends at Lausanne,
had, at his suggestion, paid a visit to England.
[117] John Gibbon, the herald, was Bluemantle Pursuivant at Arms,
1671-1718. He died August 2, 1718.
516.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Monday afternoon, 1787.
[Sidenote: A MISERABLE CRIPPLE.]
*I precipitate! I inconvenience! Alas! alas! I am a poor miserable
cripple, confined to my chair. Last Wednesday evening I felt some
flying symptoms of the gout: for two succeeding days I struggled
bravely, and went in a chair to dine with Batt and Lord Loughborough:
but on Saturday I yielded to my conqueror. I have now passed three
wearisome days without amusement, and three miserable nights without
sleep. Yet my acquaintance are charitable; and as virtue should
never be made too difficult, I feel that a man has more friends in
Pall Mall than in Bentinck Street. This fit is remarkably painful;
the enemy is possessed of the left foot and knee, and how far he may
carry the war, God only knows. Of futurity it is impossible to speak;
but it will be fortunate if I am able to leave town by the end,
not of this, but of the ensuing week. Pity me, magnanimous Baron;
pity me, tender females; pity me, Swiss exile,[118] and believe me,
it is far better to be learning English at Uckfield. I write with
difficulty, as the least motion or constraint in my attitude is
repeated by all the nerves and sinews in my knee. But* in the daily
papers *you shall find each day a note or bulletin of my health.
To-morrow I must give pain to Mrs. G. Adieu.* Caplin's servant has
other offers, and grows impatient for a speedy and final answer.
Ever yours,
E. G.
[118] M. Wilhelm de Severy.
517.
_To his Stepmother._
Saturday, Nov. 30th, 1787.
DEAR MADAM,
I must reluctantly mention, what I could still wish to conceal:
but the month of December approaches, and I may have been already
betrayed by the Sheffield gazette. Your suspicions were but too
just, and both my feet have been for some days past in the iron
fetters of the gout. This obstacle must retard, though it shall not
prevent my journey to Bath, and as soon as I am able to travel I
shall summon Lord S., who with his daughter Maria is impatient to
start. No term can be possibly assigned, but I feel with pleasure
that the bitterness of the fit is past or passing, and the gouty tide
now appears to ebb; whether its retiring motions will be slow or
rapid, fluctuating or regular, I cannot foresee, but I wish you to
believe that my pain is not a little aggravated by my disappointment.
You will excuse my brevity, as I cannot write in a pleasant attitude,
but in the course of next week you shall receive some account of my
proceedings, either from me or Caplen. Adieu.
Ever yours,
E. G.
518.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Saturday, Dec. 1, 1787.
I resume the pen for a few moments, and with some difficulty, to
say that I am not insensible of the complaints, exclamations,
projects, &c., of the natives of Sheffield. Your daily missives have
been uncomfortable, but when things are at the worst they begin
to mend, and I flatter myself that the gouty tide is now ebbing.
Last night (with some foreign aid) was the best I have known, and
this day my pain is rather less severe. *What may be the future
progress, whether slow or rapid, fluctuating or steady, time alone
will determine, and to that master of human knowledge I must leave
our Bath journey.*--Adieu. Lord Guilford is neither dead nor has
been ill.--The D[uchess] of G[ordon] is in treaty for a house in
Piccadilly.--The public voice is harmony and applause. Remember me to
Severy. Perhaps next week.
I hear this moment from my landlady, Mrs. Crauford, the Gordon
milliner, that the Dutchess has absolutely taken the house, and is
removing without delay from Downing Street. Huzza.
519.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Saturday, 8th December.
[Sidenote: DISARRANGEMENT OF HIS PLANS.]
I thought we might have safely depended on Caplin's _daily_
diligence, but you could fairly conclude from his silence that we
advance with a fair wind. The venom of the Gouty humour is almost
dispelled, and I am going on to reduce the size and recover the
strength of my feet. Mama cannot be more impatient than myself for
the signal of weighing anchor: this unlucky check has disarranged
all my social and litterary projects: in a lodging I am destitute
of a thousand comforts: my books are few, my society precarious, my
days long and often tedious, nor is any thing less pleasant than to
be left solitary and motionless while the world is flying round and
round me. In point of kind, civil, assiduous attendance of male and
female friends Lausanne had quite spoilt me.
In the course or chain of my winter designs, I most ardently wish
to hasten the Bath journey, that I may urge our family settlement
in Downing street, for I have felt by experience the difference
between town and country with regard to the press. But wishes are not
hopes, nor are hopes equivalent to assurances. Yet I think (should
no reverse of fortune take place) that I can promise to ascend my
post-chaise painfully enough either Friday or Saturday next, the 14th
or 15th instant, and therefore, if you hear nothing to the contrary,
your Lordship _cum mamma amabili_ may find yourself in town the
Wednesday or Thursday, and we will contrive, if I am strong enough,
some dinner with Lord L., Batt, or elsewhere. I am much obliged to
Severy for his letter and Lausanne news. I hope he is somewhat less
miserable. Adieu, I am tired. Salutations to My lady, &c. Do you know
anything more of the house?
520.
_To his Stepmother._
Dec. 10th, 1787.
DEAR MADAM,
I have the pleasure of informing you, that according to our last
arrangements Lord S. comes to town next Thursday with Maria: that
on Saturday we set out for Bath, and that on Sunday, about four or
five o'clock, I hope to have the pleasure of visiting the Belvidere.
This gouty impediment has been most unseasonable and disarranges the
whole chain of my projects: but you may rest assured that I am not
rash or precipitate: the disorder is leaving me in the most gentle
and regular manner; the easy journey must do me good and cannot do
me any possible harm, and I shall have the benefit of the adroit and
faithful services of Caplen, who accompanies me. It is only unlucky
that my old lodgings should be taken; but your prime minister will
provide me with others as near as possible to the sole object of my
journey.
I am, Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. G.
Depend on my taking the utmost care of myself.
521.
_To Lady Sheffield._
Bath, December 18th, 1787.
*Alas! alas! alas! How vain and fallacious are all the designs of
man. This is now the 18th of December, precisely one month since
my departure from Sheffield-place; and it was firmly my wish, my
hope, my resolution, that after dispatching some needful business
in London, and accomplishing a pious duty at Bath, I should by this
day be restored to the tranquil leisure, and friendly society, of
S. P. A cruel tyrant has disconcerted all my plans; my business in
town has been neglected, my attendance at Bath is just begun, and my
return is yet distant. I was not a little edified to hear of some
expressions of regret and discontent on my departure; and though I
am not able to produce as good evidence, you will perhaps believe
that in the solitude of a London lodging I often railed at the gout
for maliciously delaying his attack till I was removed from a place
where my sufferings would have been alleviated by every kind and
comfortable attention. I grew at last so desperately impatient, as
to resolve on immediate flight, without waiting till I had totally
expelled the foe, and recovered my strength. I performed the journey
with tolerable ease, but the motion has agitated the remains of
the humour. I am very lame, and a second fit may possibly be the
punishment of my rashness.
[Sidenote: AN ACT OF DUTY AT BATH.]
As yet I have seen nothing of Bath except Mrs. G.; and weakness,
as well as propriety, will confine me very closely to her.* I am
carried over the way in a chair about one o'clock, maintain a
conversation till ten o'clock in the evening, and am then reconveyed
to my lodging. *Lord S., with Mrs. Holroyd and Maria, dined with us
yesterday* on the haunch of venison, but such reliefs are not always
to be expected, and I chearfully perform an act of duty which is
necessary and cannot be long. I am astonished to see Mrs. Gibbon
so well, and though undoubtedly weaker, she seems in the last five
years to be very little altered either in mind or person. *We begin
to throw out hints of the shortness of our stay, and indispensable
business; and, unless I should be confined by the gout, it is
resolved in our cabinet to leave Bath on Thursday the 26th, and
passing through Lord Loughborough's and town, to settle at Sheffield,
most assuredly, before the end of the year.* Maria, to whom every
object is new and pleasant, and who begins to undraw the curtain of
the great theatre, wonders and almost murmurs at our impatience.
*For my own part I can say with truth, that did not the press loudly
demand my presence, I could, without a sigh, allow the Dutchess to
reign in Downing Street the greatest part of the winter, and should
be happy in the society of two persons (no common blessing) whom
I love, and by whom I am beloved.* I understand with pleasure and
gratitude that with the assistance of two Ushers (Miss Firth and Mrs.
Moss) you have undertaken the care of Severy's English studies, from
whence I expect a most rapid progress. I know not whether yours in
Trisset will be equal. Pray inform our pupil, that I shall write from
hence to his parents, that I am much obliged to him for his letter,
which I hope to answer in a fortnight at Sheffield-place.
*Adieu, Dear Madam, and believe me, with the affection of a friend
and brother, ever Yours.*
522.
_To Lady Sheffield._
Bath, January 4th, 1788.
I congratulate you and myself on what I now consider as certain,
the evacuation of Downing Street. Col. Fullarton, a cousin of the
Dutchess, informed me yesterday, that after sending her children I
know not where, perhaps to the parish, she had indignantly fled into
the country. By this day's post I expect an official confirmation
from Lord S., and as he will probably reach you as soon as this
letter, the communication will inform him of my intended motions.
You will admire the triumphant Maria, and your observation will
soon discern whether it will be easy to brush the powder out of her
hair, and the world out of her heart, or to shut her eyes after
they have been once opened to the light of pleasure. This excursion
will render our scheme still more necessary, and in my letter from
hence I sound Madame de S. on the subject: the more I revolve it,
I think the exchange will be pleasant and beneficial to my English
and Swiss friends, whose mutual advantage I shall have the advantage
of promoting. You have already understood that my precipitation in
leaving London has been justly punished by a second and worse fit of
the gout and a fortnight's confinement.
I now begin to crawl again on two crutches, and my first sally in a
chair will be to return the charitable visits of the Dutchess and
her friend the Ætherial of poor Lord North, &c. Were I capable of
listening to experience or common sense, I should remain here a week
or ten days longer; but I am so impatient to leave this place and to
reach London and S. P. that I mean to escape next Monday: Tuesday
afternoon and all Wednesday will be the least that my litterary
business in town will require, and I have hopes of dining at S. P.
on Thursday the 10th instant, after an absence twice as long and ten
times as disagreeable as I expected. As I now run, not from you,
but to you, you will view my rashness with indulgence, and nurse my
infirmities with compassion.--Excuse me to Severy for not answering
his two letters, and let him be in readiness to receive me. Adieu.
Ever yours,
E. G.
523.
_To his Stepmother._
Tuesday, the 14th January, about 1788.
Andover five o'Clock in the afternoon.--Safe, well, and hungry. Not a
single Lyon or Giant to be seen on Salisbury plain.--Very odd!
524.
_To Lady Sheffield._
Bentinck Street, Thursday, Feb. 24th.
The Gibbon with his friend Nic (a very proper companion) still
proposes to visit Sheffield Place, on Saturday next the 26th instant,
but as he travels slowly and prudently with his own horses, they dine
at Godstone and cannot reach the mansions of bliss before the dusk of
evening. The Gibbon presume that the most amiable Lara means to allow
_him_ some extraordinary days.
525.
_To his Stepmother._
Downing Street, March 1st, 1788.
MY DEAR MADAM,
[Sidenote: HIS WORK AND FRIENDS.]
As long as it was necessary that you should be informed of my
motions and those of the gout, my letters succeeded each other with
sufficient rapidity. The establishment of my health and strength
has allowed me, from these unnatural efforts, to sink into my usual
indolence, but I now begin to feel that my silence has lasted too
long, and that you may entertain some doubts of my present state,
unless I assure you by a line that it still continues easy and
prosperous. I use with moderation the society of this great town, and
although I do not lead a solitary life, yet my principal attention
is bestowed on my domestic friends, and on the progress of my work,
which is drawing fast to a conclusion. My own brevity will encourage
you not to fatigue yourself by a long letter, but I wish to hear
directly from _you_ and about _yourself_, the object most truly
interesting to your filial friend.
I am, Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. GIBBON.
526.
_To his Stepmother._
Downing Street, May 28th, 1788.
DEAR MADAM,
Both as an author and as a friend I am delighted with your kind
approbation: and I enjoy the pleasing assurance that the perusal
of my history[119] may sometimes beguile a solitary hour, and
recall the historian still more forcibly to your mind. For my own
part I now feel as if a mountain was removed from my breast; as
far as I can judge, the public unanimously applauds my compliment
to Lord North,[120] and does not appear dissatisfied with the
conclusion of my work. I look back with amazement on the road which
I have travelled, but which I should never have entered had I been
previously apprized of its length.
In your last letter you express some joy at the approach of summer,
as it is connected with my second visit to Bath which I had promised
to make before my departure for the Continent. On my side the promise
will be most chearfully performed, and in the prospect of embracing
a dear and valuable friend I shall ever esteem fatigue and expence
as of small account. The Sheffields leave town in the beginning of
next week; I must continue some days after them to pack up my books
and dispatch some necessary business, and in about a fortnight I
could undertake the journey to Bath. Yet before you resolve, I wish
you coolly to weigh whether prudence should advise us to gratify
or restrain our inclination. In my Christmas visit, confined as I
was by the gout, I could not but observe how much my presence and
your desire of inviting company to amuse me deranged the privacy of
your life and the distribution of your hours. Delicate health and
spirits like yours are agitated even by the pleasure, the tumultuous
pleasure, of an interview; and that pleasure is embittered by the
painful foresight of an approaching separation. According to my
arrangements, which it is no longer in my power to break, I _must_
return to Lausanne early in the month of July, nor can I indulge
my wishes at the Belvidere beyond the term of a week. That week is
perfectly at your service, and I only hope to receive your commands
as soon as possible. Lord and Lady S. beg to be remembered to you in
the kindest manner.
I am, Dear Madam,
Ever yours,
E. G.
[119] Vols. iv., v., and vi. of the _Decline and Fall_ were
published in April, 1788.
[120] The preface to the last three volumes of the _Decline
and Fall of the Roman Empire_ contained the following eulogium
on Lord North: "Were I ambitious of any other Patron than the
public, I would inscribe this work to a Statesman, who, in a
long, a stormy, and at length an unfortunate administration,
had many political opponents, almost without a personal enemy;
who has retained, in his fall from power, many faithful and
disinterested friends; and who, under the pressure of severe
infirmity, enjoys the lively vigour of his mind, and the felicity
of his incomparable temper. Lord North will permit me to express
the feelings of friendship in the language of truth; but even
truth and friendship should be silent, if he still dispensed the
favours of the Crown."
527.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Hampton Court, Wednesday, June 16th, three o'clock.
Whether you mean to abuse or applaud me, you must postpone that
pleasure from Sunday the 20th to Saturday the 26th. I have some
literary accounts to settle before I shut my shop for some months,
and they have run, as it commonly happens, to a greater length than I
had expected. This delay happens likewise to be very convenient to my
agreeable companion Mr. Nicholls, who salutes the whole Barony with
proper respect.
528.
_To Lord Sheffield._
Downing-street, Saturday (June 17th, 1788).
[Sidenote: HORRORS OF SHOPPING AND PACKING.]
*I have but a moment between my return home and my dressing, and
heartily tired I am; for I am now involved in the horrors of
shopping, packing, &c.; yet I must write four lines to prevent a
growl and a damn, which might salute the arrival of an empty-handed
post on Sunday. I hope the whole caravan, Christians and pagans,
arrived in good health at the castle; that the Turrets begin to rise
to the third Heaven; that each has found a proper occupation; and
that Tuft[121] enjoys the freedom and felicity of the lawn.
Yesterday the august scene was closed for this year. Sheridan
surpassed himself;[122] and though I am far from considering him as
a perfect orator, there were many beautiful passages in his speech,
on justice, filial love, &c.; one of the closest chains of argument
I ever heard, to prove that Hastings was responsible for the acts of
Middleton; and a compliment, much admired, to a certain historian of
your acquaintance. Sheridan, in the close of his speech, sunk into
Burke's arms; but I called this morning, he is perfectly well.* A
good Actor![123]
*I fear that I shall not be able to dine at home a single day.
To-morrow Severy and myself go to Bushy. I hope to be with you by
Sunday the 22nd Instant,* but I find I have much to do, and the most
important business of my Magdalen farms is not concluded. You know
Hugonin's method of writing most when there is least occasion for it.
I have not had a line from him since I sent the College license. *The
casing of my books is a prodigious operation. Adieu.*
[121] Lady Sheffield's lapdog.
[122] "We were kept in London about twelve days by Mr. Sheridan's
speeches. One day would have sufficed me, who have heard many
long speeches: but the ladies rebelled, the Gibbon supported
them, and thus we were detained till towards the middle of June"
(Lord Sheffield to William Eden, July 29, 1788: _Lord Auckland's
Journal and Correspondence_, vol. ii. p. 219).