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534.
To his Stepmother

Lausanne, August the 16th, 1788.

Dear Madam,

RETURN TO LAUSANNE.

The day and indeed the moment of my arrival in this place I announced the event by a short missive to Sheffield-place, and desired that the intelligence might be forwarded without delay to the Belvidere. The perils of the ocean and the road, imaginary perils, are now over, and I am again seated in the elegant repose of my library and garden: free to enjoy all the pleasures of study, my first pleasures, but no longer chained to the regular performance of a laborious task. At this time of the year small as well as great cities are emptied of their most dignified inhabitants: yet if I were not rather disposed to a sedentary life, I could find in the town and adjacent country what Mr. Christie (?) calls a very respectable vicinage. But their names and characters would be uninteresting to you, and with the best intentions a correspondence with a distant friend must degenerate into mutual questions and answers concerning each other. The only person here with whom you are acquainted, poor Deyverdun, is, I much fear, in a state of decline, though I hope not of actual danger: that would indeed be a loss.

Present my kindest remembrance to Mrs. Holroyd, and if they are with you, to the Goulds. I lament that I never saw them during my stay in England.

I am, Dear Madam,

Ever yours,

E. Gibbon.

535.
To Lord Sheffield

October 1, 1788.

*After such an act of vigour as my first letter, composed, finished, and dispatched within half an hour after my landing, while the dinner was smoaking on the table, your knowledge of the animal must have taught you to expect a proportionable degree of relaxation; and you will be satisfied to hear, that, for many Wednesdays and Saturdays, I have consumed more time than would have sufficed for the Epistle, in devising reasons for procrastinating it to the next post. At this very moment I begin so very late, as I am just going to dress, and dine in the Country, that I can take only the benefit of the date, October the first, and must be content to seal and send my letter next Saturday.

October the 4th.

Saturday is now arrived, and I much doubt whether I shall have time to finish. I rose, as usual, about seven; but as I knew I should have so much time, you know it would have been ridiculous to begin any thing before Breakfast. When I returned from my breakfast-room to the library, unluckily I found on the table some new and interesting books, which instantly caught my attention; and without injuring my correspondent, I could safely bestow a single hour to gratify my curiosity. Some things I found in them insensibly led me to other books, and other enquiries; the morning has stolen away, and I shall be soon summoned to dress and dine with the two Severys, father and son, who are returned from the Country on a disagreeable errand, an illness of Madame, from which she is, however, recovering. Such is the faithful picture of my mind and manners, and from a single day disce omnes.

ILLNESS OF DEYVERDUN.

After having been so long chained to the oar, in a splendid galley indeed, I freely and fairly enjoy my liberty as I promised in my preface; range without controul over the wide expanse of my library; converse, as my fancy prompts me, with poets and historians, philosophers and Orators, of every age and language; and often indulge my meditations in the invention and arrangement of mighty works, which I shall probably never find time or application to execute. My garden, berceau, and pavillion often varied the scene of my studies; the beautiful weather which we have enjoyed exhilarated my spirits, and I again tasted the wisdom and happiness of my retirement, till that happiness was interrupted by a very serious calamity, which took from me, for above a fortnight, all thoughts of study, of amusement, and even of correspondence. I mentioned in my first letter the uneasiness I felt at poor Deyverdun's declining health, how much the pleasure of my life was embittered by the sight of a suffering and languid friend. The joy of our meeting appeared at first to revive him; and, though not satisfied, I began to think, at least to hope, that he was every day gaining ground; when, alas! one morning I was suddenly recalled from my berceau to the house, with the dreadful intelligence of an Apoplectic stroke; I found him senseless: the best assistance was instantly collected; and he had the aid of the genius and experience of Mr. Tissot, and of the assiduous care of an ordinary Physician, who for some time scarcely quitted his bedside either night or day.* You will understand his danger when I recapitulate the operations of a few hours – leeches, six bleeding vomits, purges, clysters, blisters to his thighs, warm baths, and mustard to his feet. *While I was in momentary dread of a relapse, with a confession from his physicians that such a relapse must be fatal, you will feel that I was much more to be pitied than my friend. At length, Art or Nature triumphed over the enemy of life. I was soon assured that all immediate danger was past: and now for many days I have had the satisfaction of seeing him recover, though by slow degrees, his health and strength, his sleep and appetite. He now walks about the garden, and receives his particular friends, but has not yet gone abroad. His future health will depend very much upon his own prudence: but, at all events, this has been a very serious warning; and the slightest indisposition will hereafter assume a very formidable aspect.

But let us turn from this melancholy subject. – The man of the people¹²⁴ escaped from the tumult, the bloody tumult of the Westminster Election,¹²⁵ to the lakes and mountains of Switzerland, and I was informed that he was arrived at the Lyon d'Or. I sent a compliment; he answered it in person;* we returned together to the Inn, brought away the fair Mrs. Armstead,¹²⁶ *and settled at my house for the remainder of the day. I have eat and drank, and conversed and sat up all night with Fox in England; but it never has happened, perhaps it never can happen again, that I should enjoy him as I did that day, alone,* for his fair Companion was a cypher,* from ten in the morning till ten at night. Poor Deyverdun, before his accident, wanted spirits to appear, and has regretted it since. Our conversation never flagged a moment; and he seemed thoroughly pleased with the place and with his Company. We had little politicks; though he gave me, in a few words, such a character of Pitt, as one great man should give of another his rival: much of books, from my own, on which he flattered me very pleasantly, to Homer and the Arabian nights; much about the country, my garden (which he understands far better than I do), and, upon the whole, I think he envies me, and would do so were he Minister. The next morning I gave him a guide to walk him about the town and country, and invited some company to meet him at dinner. The following day he continued his journey to Berne and Zurich, and I have heard of him by various means. The people gaze on him as a prodigy, but he shows little inclination to converse with them.* The wit and beauty of his Companion are not sufficient to excuse the scandalous impropriety of shewing her to all Europe, and you will not easily conceive how he has lost himself in the public opinion, which was already more favourable to his Rival. Will Fox never know the importance of character?

Far different has been the conduct and success of *our friend Douglas;¹²⁷ he has been curious, attentive, agreeable; and in every place where he has resided some days, he has left acquaintance who esteem and regret him: I never knew so clear and general an impression.

After this long letter I have yet many things to say, though none of any pressing consequence. I hope you are not idle in the deliverance of Buriton, though the late events and edicts in France begin to reconcile me to the possession of dirty acres. What think you of Necker¹²⁸ and the States generals? Are not the public expectations sanguine? Adieu. I will write soon to My Lady separately, though I have not any particular subject for her ear.

Ever yours,*

E. Gibbon.

536.
To Lord Sheffield

Lausanne, Nov. 29, 1788.

INSANITY OF GEORGE III.

*As I have no Correspondents but yourself, I should have been reduced to the stale and stupid communications of the papers, if you had not most gloriously dispatched me a sketch of the* strange revolution that three Kingdoms should depend on the brain of one man!¹²⁹ *In so new a case the Salus populi must be the first law; and any extraordinary acts of the two remaining branches of the Legislature must be excused by necessity, and ratified by general consent.* Yet I cannot any more than yourself understand this speedy and peremptory sentence of the Medical tribe. The apprehension or rather hope of his death may admonish the reigning ministers not to irritate the heir apparent: otherwise, since they have a Majority, what should prevent them from shackling him with a Counsel, or from tacking to the address of support a request that he would not change his servants? They have the confidence (aye growl) of the Country and of Europe: by them, I mean Pitt. *Till things are settled, I expect a regular Journal.

From kingdoms I descend to farms,* and the latter in a selfish consideration are not the least important and interesting. You seem to have made a considerable progress in the Buriton affair, since you would not have fixed the price without a careful survey and valuation of each particular founded on your own judgement and that of some able professor. You do not however mention that you have employed any such person. I submit to your science, but I cannot say that I am fond of this mode of auctions: besides the publicity, which on this occasion may be dangerous, you expose yourself either to let the estate go for an inadequate price or to an improper purchaser; or else by purchasing it in, you incur the expences, tax, &c., to a large amount. Since we know the persons whom Buriton best suits, suppose Bonham, Lords Stawell, and Egremont, might not the same end be answered with less inconvenience by writing at the same time a public circular letter to each, and desiring that by a certain day they would send in sealed proposals? Would they not have the same inducement to bid against one another? Upon the whole the 18,000 pounds would make me happy for life. Yet I would not proceed hastily in this momentous business. What is the motive of Hugonin's sudden migration, is it health, distress, fancy? Where does he settle? Who will take care of my affairs? A year's rent is now due, besides some arrears.

I have written to my two old Ladies without receiving answers. What are your accounts from Bath? I hope you have satisfied her about the sale of Buriton, which I would much sooner delay than give her any uneasiness. I wish we had a correspondent at Stamford (that Attorney whose name I have forgot, who called upon me in Downing Street) to give you notice in case it should please Almighty God, &c. – Deyverdun is not worse. Yet I much doubt whether you will see him next year. Do you still persist? Thinking as you do, I feel the force of a certain objection, and must own that a small circle is often more dangerous than a large one. I likewise fear for yourself the want of occupation in winter, and am now apprehensive of the views of Parliament, office, &c., that may open themselves under a new and friendly reign. As soon as you are absolutely determined let me know; as the arrangement of a proper house would not be easy.

The Severys are well and all impatient to see you. I have passed three weeks with them at Rolle, as comfortably as at S.P.: we made a tour to Geneva. The youth is perfectly reconciled to his little Country. If My Lady, in the paradise of Brighton, could find leisure for a line, it would be gracious. Adieu.

537.
To Lord Sheffield

Lausanne, Dec. 13, 1788.

DEATH OF HUGONIN.

Poor Hugonin! I can assure you that my thoughts, my first thoughts at least when I read your letter, turned much more on himself. I knew him from my youth: he was an honest useful friend, and though he could never be much of a companion to me, I always loved and esteemed him. His death is a loss if an auction at Petersfield was ever an advisable measure. You have considered and must have determined before this can reach you. But if it be not too late, revolve the advantages and inconveniences of auctions.

Buriton is no elegant villa which may catch the eye and fancy of a stranger; it is an heap of dirty acres which can only derive their extraordinary value from local merit. Will any man give so much as Mr. Bonham and Lord Stawell, and in that case would not a private treaty with them be more easy and effectual? I again repeat that Mrs. Gibbon must be perfectly satisfied. I hope you will not let it go under £18,000. We once talked of twenty.

*Of public affairs I can only hear with curiosity and wonder: careless as you may think me, I feel myself deeply interested. You must now write often; make Miss Firth copy any curious fragments; and stir up any of my well-informed acquaintance, Batt, Douglas, Adam, perhaps Lord Loughborough, &c., to correspond with me; I will answer them.

We are now cold and gay at Lausanne. The Severys came to town Yesterday. I saw a good deal of Lords Malmsbury¹³⁰ and Beauchamp and their Ladies; Ellis,¹³¹ of the Rolliad, was with them; I like him much: I gave them a great dinner.

Adieu for the present. Deyverdun is not worse.*

Will you direct Richard Andrews to collect and remitt my year's rent which is now payable? I suppose he can be trusted, and that you can authorize him. H.'s departure seems to be a new reason for disposing of Buriton.

538.
To Lord Sheffield

December 31st, 1788.

HUGONIN'S DISHONESTY.

This moment I receive and answer your Epistle. We are in the midst of the hardest winter I ever felt, and three English mails are arrived at once this morning. A black prospect indeed of public and private affairs, and such is my patriotism that I must fairly own the latter are predominant in my thoughts. Is it possible that my old friend poor Hugonin should turn out a rogue? I thought him both an honest and a frugal man, but the facts you mention are strongly against him. Is it possible that his landed property, which was considerable, should be insufficient to satisfy my demands and those of all his creditors? Is it possible that, living retired in the Country, he should have deranged his affairs? I still flatter myself that his executors must and can repay any sums which he may have borrowed in my name, and though there should be some delay, I still hope that, with proper steps on your side, there will not finally be much loss. If all is indeed desperate down to Hugonin's strange receipt in full, it is not a year but a year and a half's rent that I have miserably lost, as I had been persuaded or compelled to allow six months' grace, and to be satisfied with receiving before Christmas the year's rent which had been due the preceding Lady-day. There is besides some arrear of rent from the College farms which was due at the time of the sale, and which Hugonin has never clearly settled. Such a blow, at least of seven or eight hundred pounds, will most essentially distress me, and derange those schemes of comfort and order which I now thought most firmly established. You are my only refuge. Could I hope (I may wish, I must not ask) that you would get into your post-chaise in Downing Street and run down to Petersfield? Your eagle-eye and active firmness would see more and do more in eight and forty hours than all the agents and letters in the World. If this be too much, a man of confidence (is Purden fit for the commission?) might be sent to make a full observation and report of the state of accounts, and of the farm at Beriton with respect both to present arrangements and final operations. Andrews has a fair character, but an Attorney!

This unforeseen and unfortunate blow encreases my desire of getting rid of such dangerous and ungovernable property; and from the produce of any sum between 18 and 15,000 pounds I could certainly draw a larger and safer income than I enjoy at present. But how to proceed. Is Mrs. G. of Bath perfectly satisfied? I have not heard from her nor do you mention her name. Have you heard of the Northamptonshire Saint? You wait for my instructions, I can send none. You are an able and active friend, and I shall acquiesce in all you think right, even in the auction, which does not thoroughly suit my taste. I should prefer a fair Gentlemanlike private address to Bonham either by letter or in person. For God's sake, or rather for friendship's sake, comfort and extricate me. I am in low spirits. Adieu.

Ever yours,

E. G.

Write soon – I think the earliest and most vigorous steps should be taken for making my demand on H.'s executors. Is there no allusion between him and the Tenant? if there is would it not invalidate his unusual receipt?

539.
To Lord Sheffield

Lausanne, Feb. 4th, 1789.

If Hugonin's debt be desperate I must submit, but there is no imbecillity in saying that the loss will derange my plans, since I must sell out of the funds to supply the deficiency. The amount of my fruitless demand I cannot specify, but you may easily make it out by comparing Hugonin's remittances to the Goslings with the rent-roll of the Estate. Mrs. G. of Bath must doubtless be satisfied and secured in any way and on any fund which her prudence or fancy may prefer. You had once dropt something of giving her a security on your Estate. That method, which could not be attended with any risk or inconvenience to yourself, would perhaps be most agreable to all parties. I most sincerely hope that the sale may be already dispatched by private contract, before the decisive 18th of February. Why should you confine yourself to so short a day, since the town is equally full in March and April? and you are sensible how much the failure of the auction would blast any other operations. Is it yet too late for a delay? I mean only of some weeks, for I am very desirous of terminating this winter, in the present prosperous state of the Country: and indeed so desirous that I could patiently submit to a much larger abatement, to be at last possessed of a much better income free from those accidents and deductions to which land is so woefully exposed. You talk of £18,000, but if you could not get more than 17 or even 16, I might afterwards repent your refusal. I would certainly vest part in a mortgage, but I would rather chuse my man and my county, and should like to have the security of a larger estate than that of Buriton. While such an one was looking for, the part of the purchase money not secured to Mrs. G. might lye safely in the funds.

I have not heard from either of the old Ladies, and wish you could inform yourself of the state of the Northamptonshire Saint. If you will apply to my good friend Lord Spencer, he could easily find you a correspondent in that neighbourhood who without noise or scandal might send you regular and early notice of her decline and fall. – On smaller matters you are too earnest and almost angry: the continuance of the foreign papers I could not foresee and will try to rectify. Jones's bill, a trifle of about ten pounds, I will settle —

Had I the least idea of the 25 guineas of the Royal society, I should not have solicited so useless a title: but the dye is now cast, and I will write to Elmsley to satisfy that demand as well as the Antiquarian and African. I certainly did not give him any orders about newspapers, magazines, &c., as I cannot devise any method of getting them in any reasonable time without an extravagant expence. Your copiousness on my affairs makes you concise on those of the public. The debates and the outside transactions I can read in English and foreign papers, but from you, as Cicero says to his friend Cœlius (ad familiares, L. ii. Ep. 8) nec præterita nec præsentia, sed ut ab homine longe in posterum prospiciente futura exspecto, ut ex tuis litteris, cum formam Rei publicæ viderim, quale ædificium futurum sit scire possim. Above all I wish to hear what part you are likely yourself to act in the new regency, your hopes, your wishes, and whether you intend next winter to breathe the free and pleasant air of Lausanne or to tug at the parliamentary and official oar, amid the fogs of London.

DEYVERDUN'S SECOND ATTACK.

Of my book I have not leisure or inclination to talk. Its genuine reputation will rise or fall without any regard to the barking critics who always attend the heels of any popular work. Two translations are printing at Paris, and two English editions in Germany. I embrace My lady, &c., and still hold my intention of writing. Adieu. Severy tells his own story. I believe he is a tolerable correspondent. Poor Deyverdun has had another, a slighter, attack; he is now better, but I fear that his days will be neither long nor happy. A melancholy theme. Once more Adieu.

E. G.