Chapter XVI: Part 16

I still am of opinion that it is both unseemly and unusual for _us_ to propose any specific terms. You must hear the ideas of the parents or guardians. You must consider on the behalf of your client, how far a moderate interest may be enhanced by rank and character, how far a deficiency (less desirable) in those qualifications may be varnished with gold. If everything should unite, you may boldly accept; if you hesitate you must take the matter ad referendum, and they must expect our answer by the return of the post. You will say perhaps that the parties may be impatient, and that delay may be productive of danger. This I must acknowledge, nor is it only in this respect that I feel the disadvantage of his not being on the spot.--I much regret the M[arquis] of C[armarthen], his father the D[uke] of L[eeds] is a fair and honourable man. Your hint of General Bude (of whom I had never heard) shall not be neglected: when the Duchess of D. returns to England next year, I hope she will be able and willing to assist the young man, to whom she expressed much friendship, and whom she appointed her chevalier sans peur and sans reproche by the delivery of a feather and a cockade. He is now on service with his dragoons, but will probably be soon disbanded.

Without confessing that my fears and scruples were quite so _anile_ as you are always disposed to think them, I am now in a great measure satisfied. I wish you may find a secure mortgage at four per cent.; but though I do not perfectly like the Debentures (which you never explained before), I cannot think they run much risk till our next meeting in England.

The case of my Wine I think peculiarly hard; to lose my Madeira, and to be scolded for losing it. Please to remember that the Wine Merchant never sent me any letter of advice, as he ought to have done, of the time and manner of its departure; and that when I first expressed my astonishment to you (in my great letter of at least four months ago) you were too much engrossed with a more interesting subject to return any answer. What could I do? my part was entirely passive, to expect its arrival, which I still expect. Yet I have now directed proper enquiries to be made at Basle and Ostend; the London Merchant must trace it forwards, and the last person in whose hands it has been must be responsible for the wine or its value. Whatsoever may be right, I have no intention of seeking a legal remedy; but on a similar occasion, I hope we shall never repeat the liberal confidence of such premature payment.

*I am much indebted to Mr. Nichols for his Genealogical communications, which I am impatient to receive; but I do not understand why so civil a Gentleman could not favour me, in six months, with an answer by the post: since he entrusts me with these valuable papers, you have not, I presume, informed him of my negligence and awkwardness in regard to Manuscripts. Your reproach rather surprizes me, as I suppose I am much the same as I have been for these last twenty Years. Should you hold your resolution of writing only such things as may be published at Charing-cross, our future correspondence would not be very interesting. But I expect and require, at this important crisis, a full and confidential account of your views concerning England, Ireland, and France. You have a strong and clear eye; and your pen is, perhaps, the most useful quill that ever has been plucked from a goose. Your protection of the French refugees is highly applauded. Rosset and La Motte have escaped from Arbourg, perhaps with connivance to avoid disagreeable demands from the Republic. Adieu.*

Ever yours,
E. G.

[258] The report of the French Diplomatic Committee upon the two
treaties of October 22 and November 2 was delivered by Brissot
on November 21. It neither ratified nor rejected the treaties,
reserving the question whether a free people could bind itself
by treaties. At the same time the Convention ordered the French
troops to respect the neutrality of Geneva, if the Swiss troops
evacuated the city by December 1, 1792.

[259] The Duke of Brunswick was charged with being bribed to
retire. No ground for the accusation has ever been alleged,
except that, on the duke's return, he paid off heavy debts.
The charge was made by Talleyrand in 1802. It is repeated by
both Lacretelle and Thiers in their histories. It is omitted
by Michaud in his article on Brunswick, which appeared in the
_Biographie Universelle_ in 1812; but it is given in the articles
which the same writer contributed on Dumouriez and Drouet to
the supplementary volume (1837). It is also made by the Comte
d'Allonville in his _Mémoires Secrets_ (vol. iii. pp. 94-97).

601.

_Lord Sheffield to Edward Gibbon._

Bath, 5th Nov., 1792.

Among the whimsical events of the last three years, none is more extraordinary than an Hebdominal letter from you. Your character however is so bad on that head, that there is not much dependance on your perseverance, but it produces a desire and resolution in the Family to address you weekly as long as you give such encouragement.

[Sidenote: THREE LATE FRENCH MINISTERS.]

Here I am, not on account of my eyes (which continue very weak), but to attend the Mayor's Feast at Bristol this day. I arrived last night. I was but one night in London. I found the Hotel in Downing Street occupied by the Princess d'Henin, the Beautiful Comtesse Charles de Noailles,[260] the Pauline, the Prince de Poix,[261] Gouvernet,[262] Lally, &c. I proceeded in the morning to Bulstrode[263] to hold a conversation with the Duke, and from thence I moved to this place with the Maria, whom I shall leave with Aunt while I go through the necessary duties at Bristol, which will at least engage me till the 13th instant. Talking of Downing Street, I should mention the extraordinary _occurrence_ in the dining-room there a few days since, of the three late French Ministers, St. Croix,[264] Monciel,[265] Bertrand[266] and also Malouet,[267] Gilliers,[268] Gouvernet, Prince de Poix and Lally. They were in Committee on their deplorable affairs. For the sake of my eyes I shall give this to be finished by Maria. No man has a guess at the intentions of Gouvernment. There is not the slightest expectation that they will take the least part in the affairs of France. All those members of Opposition for whom you or others have respect are seriously well disposed to a junction of parties, and I am convinced, indeed I know, they would be very reasonable in their expectations. Pitt has said he could act in great confidence with Fox, notwithstanding sparrings which have taken place, and Charles Fox has said that a junction is so right a thing, that he cannot see otherwise than that it must take place. Yet there are great difficulties, and I am not sanguine. I shall have no opinion of Pitt's judgment or disposition if he does not remove them.

Poor Mrs. Gibbon was given over last week, a bilious attack. She has miraculously recovered, but the man who has bodily care of her, says she is so worn, she cannot pass the winter.

I should have added above that I fear Fox will be still _detestable_ on the subject of French affairs. Pitt is suspected of Democracy, and it is said by some lately that he will himself move a Plan of Reform next Sessions.

[Sidenote: JACOBIN SOCIETIES IN ENGLAND.]

My Lord is gone to nurse his poor dear eyes, and leaves me to inform you of some of those extraordinary things to which I hardly expect you to give credit, but I shall name my authorities. Mr. Batt told us last Friday that the Attorney General had had information of the following event at Manchester, and that the said Attorney General had mentioned it to the _said_ Mr. Batt. A person (we did not hear his name) at that place invited a number of people to dinner, among others the officers of the Scotch Greys, the day of the King's Accession, giving them notice there would be a _ceremony_. When the company was assembled there was an Ass brought into the room, dressed in a Blue Ribband, Crown and Sceptre, &c., which after many ridiculous formalities was killed, cut in pieces, and sent to different Societies in this Kingdom. I do not know if Lewes had a portion, but I know there is a Jacobin Society there. Burke called here yesterday evening to talk of a Plan for permanent relief of the poor priests, giving up all hopes of their returning to their native country. He proposed with the money in the hands of the Committee (£10,000) if Government would give any assistance towards settling them in the _Crimea_, Canada or Maryland,[269] as the subscription cannot afford them subsistence in this country for three months longer.

Mrs. Moss is arrived in England. Have you received Lally's vessel which she sent you from Berne? How do the _Acacias_, &c., flourish upon the terrace?

[260] The Comtesse Charles de Noailles, _née_ Nathalie de
Laborde, the daughter of the banker of that name, married in 1790
Charles de Noailles, son of the Prince de Poix.

[261] Louis Philippe Antoine de Noailles, Prince de Poix, eldest
son of the Maréchal and Maréchale de Mouchy, who were guillotined
on July 22, 1794. He commanded the Noailles Company of the Royal
Body-guard. He was arrested in August, 1792, but escaped on his
way to the Abbaye. He married Anne de Beauvau, who died in 1834.

[262] The Comte de la Tour-du-Pin Gouvernet had been aide-de-camp
to Bouillé at the repression of the mutiny at Nancy. He was
entrusted with the task of opening the plan, formed for the
rescue of the king and royal family in the early summer of
1792, to Marie Antoinette. Her distrust of La Fayette caused
its failure. "Plutôt périr qu'être sauvé par La Fayette et les
Constitutionnels!" was her well-known exclamation. Gouvernet
subsequently went to America, and died at Lausanne in 1837.

[263] The seat of the Duke of Portland.

[264] Bigot de Sainte Croix, Minister for Foreign Affairs, was
one of the agents in the schemes for the rescue of Louis XVI.

[265] Terrier de Monciel, a member of the Constitutional
party, Minister of the Interior from June 18 to July 9, 1792,
endeavoured to organize a military force for the protection of
the king which should be disassociated from the foreign allies of
the _émigrés_. It was the discovery of this and other schemes for
the king's rescue, in which Bertrand, Malouet, Mallet du Pan, and
Clermont-Tonnerre were the leaders, that led to the disbanding of
the Constitutional Guard, and the insurrections of June 20 and
August 10, 1792. Monciel died in 1831.

[266] The Marquis de Bertrand-Molleville (1744-1818) was
_Ministre de la Marine_ in 1791. He took refuge in England in
1792, and there wrote his _Mémoires_ and his _Histoire de la
Révolution de France_.

[267] Victor Malouet (1740-1814), distinguished by his
explorations and his services in the French colonies (see his
_Collection des Mémoires sur l'administration des colonies_,
Paris, 1802, 5 vols.), was a bold and skilful supporter of Louis
XVI. in the Constituent Assembly. He returned to France in 1801,
and was employed by Napoleon in the administration of the navy.
He was appointed Ministre de la Marine by Louis XVIII. in 1814.

[268] Probably the Baron de Gilliers, whose estates were
near Romans in Dauphiné, and of whom Rivarol tells a story
to illustrate the suspicion with which every aristocrat was
regarded. Suspected of a royalist plot, the baron was charged
with manufacturing cannon when he was only making drain-pipes;
his house was occupied by hundreds of armed men, and his family
narrowly escaped with their lives. He was gentleman-in-waiting to
Madame Elizabeth.

[269] Burke's plan for the settlement of the refugees in Maryland
is discussed by him in a letter to his son, dated November 2,
1792 (_Correspondence_, vol. iv. pp. 25, 26).

602.

_To Lord Sheffield._

November 10th, 1792.

*Received this day, November 9th, a most amiable dispatch from the too humble secretary[270] of the family of Espee,[271] dated October 24th, which I answer the same day. It will be acknowledged, that I have fulfilled my engagement with as much accuracy as our uncertain state and the fragility of human nature would allow.

I resume my narrative. At the time when we imagined that all was settled by an equal treaty between two such unequal powers, as the Geneva flea and the Leviathan France, we were thunderstruck with the intelligence that the Ministers of the Republic refused to ratify the conditions; and they were indignant, with some colour of reason, at the hard obligation of withdrawing their troops to the distance of ten leagues, and of consequently leaving the Pays de Gex naked, and exposed to the Swiss, who had assembled 15,000 men on the frontier, and with whom they had not made any agreement. The Messenger who was sent last Sunday from Geneva is not yet returned; and many persons are afraid of some design and danger in this delay. Montesquiou has acted with politeness, moderation, and apparent sincerity; but he may resign, he may be superseded, his place may be occupied by an _enragé_,[272] by Servan, or prince Charles of Hesse,[273] who would aspire to imitate the predatory fame of Custine in Germany.

In the mean while, the General holds a wolf by the ears; an officer who has seen his troops, about 18,000 men (with a tremendous train of artillery), represents them as a black, daring, desperate crew of buccaneers, rather shocking than contemptible; the officers (scarcely a Gentleman among them), without servants, or horses, or baggage, lying _higgledy piggledy_ on the ground with the common men, yet maintaining a rough kind of discipline over them. They already begin to accuse and even to suspect their General, and call aloud for blood and plunder: could they have an opportunity of squeezing some of the rich Citizens, Geneva would cut up as fat as most towns in Europe. During this suspension of hostilities they are permitted to visit the City without arms, sometimes three or four hundred at a time; and the Magistrates, as well as the Swiss Commander, are by no means pleased with this dangerous intercourse, which they dare not prohibit. Such are our fears; yet it should seem on the other side, that the French affect a kind of magnanimous justice towards their little neighbour, and that they are not ambitious of an unprofitable contest with the poor and hardy Swiss. The Swiss are not equal to a long and expensive War; and as most of our Militia have families and trades, the country already sighs for their return. Whatever can be yielded, without absolute danger or disgrace, will doubtless be granted; and the business will probably end in our owning the Sovereignty, and trusting to the good faith of the Republic of France: how that word would have sounded four years ago! The measure is humiliating; but after the retreat of the Duke of Brunswick, and the failure of the Austrians, the smaller powers may acquiesce without dishonour.

[Sidenote: ENGLAND THE LAST REFUGE OF LIBERTY.]

Every dog has his day; and these Gallic dogs have their day, at least, of most insolent prosperity. After forcing or tempting the Prussians to evacuate their country, they conquer Savoy, pillage Germany, threaten Spain: the Low Countries are ere now invaded; Rome and Italy tremble; they scour the Mediterranean, and talk of sending a squadron into the South Sea. The whole horizon is so black, that I begin to feel some anxiety for England, the last refuge of liberty and law; and the more so, as I perceive from Lord S.'s last epistle that his firm nerves are a little shaken; but of this more in my next, for I want to unburthen my conscience.

If England, with the experience of our happiness and French calamities, should now be seduced to eat the apple of false freedom, we should indeed deserve to be driven from the paradise which we enjoy. I turn aside from the horrid and improbable, (yet not impossible) supposition, that, in three or four years' time, myself and my best friends may be reduced to the deplorable state of the French emigrants: they thought it as impossible three or four years ago. Never did a revolution affect, to such a degree, the private existence of such numbers of the first people of a great Country: your examples of misery I could easily match with similar examples in this country and the neighbourhood; and our sympathy is the deeper, as we do not possess, like you, the means of alleviating, in some degree, the misfortunes of the fugitives. But I must have, from the very excellent pen of the Maria, the tragedy of the Archbishop of Arles; and the longer the better. Madame de Biron has probably been tempted by some faint and (I fear) fallacious promises of clemency to the Women, and which have likewise engaged Madame d'Aguesseau and her two daughters[274] to revisit France. Madame de Bouillon[275] stands her ground, and her situation as a foreign princess is less exposed. As Lord S. has assumed the glorious character of protector of the distressed, his name is pronounced with gratitude and respect. The D. of Richmond is praised, on Madame de Biron's account. To the Princess d'Henin, and Lally, I wish to be remembered.

The Neckers cannot venture into Geneva, and Madame de Stael will probably lye in at Rolle. He is printing a defence of the King, &c., against their Republican Judges;[276] but the name of Necker is unpopular to all parties, and I much fear that the Guillotine will be more speedy than the press. It will, however, be an eloquent performance; and, if I find an opportunity, I am to send you one, to you, Lord S., by his particular desire: he wishes likewise to convey some copies with speed to our principal people, Pitt, Fox, Lord Stormont, &c. But such is the rapid succession of events, that it will appear, like the 'Pouvoir Executif,' his best Work, after the whole scene has been totally changed.*

Shall you never be able to place my £3000 on good Security? Was there ever before a two years' fruitless chace after a Mortgage? We are in hot pursuit from all quarters of my Madeira, and unless already drunk by the Hussars it must emerge.

Ever yours,
E. G.

P.S.--*The Revolution of France, and my triple dispatch by the same post to Sheffield-place, are, in my opinion, the two most singular events in the eighteenth Century. I found the task so easy and pleasant, that I had some thoughts of adding a letter to the gentle Louisa.* And a note to the most respectable Tuft. I should not have forgot Miss Firth, but I hear she is leaving you. Is she going to be married? *I am this moment informed, that our troops on the frontier are beginning to move, on their return home; yet we hear nothing of the treaty's being concluded.*

[270] Miss Holroyd.

[271] Sheffield Place.

[272] Joseph Servan (1741-1808), author of the _Soldat Citoyen_
(1780), Minister of War in the Girondin administration (March
to June, 1792). Dismissed by Louis XVI., he was restored to his
office after August 10, 1792. He resigned his post in October,
1792, and afterwards commanded the troops which opposed the march
of the Spaniards upon Bayonne in April, 1793.

[273] Prince Charles of Hesse-Rheinfels-Rothenburg (1752-1821)
entered the French service as a young man. He was made a
lieutenant-general in 1792, and took up the command at
Besançon, where he was received with enthusiasm as the
_citoyen-général-philosophe_. He accompanied his words with
gestures which were almost convulsive in their violence, and
closed his sentences by grinding his teeth, "un tigre doué de
la parole." As a journalist (1795-99) he came into collision
with the Government, and was imprisoned for several years in the
island of Rhé. He died at Frankfort in 1821.

[274] Henriette d'Aguessau, who married the Duc d'Ayen, was, like
Madame de Biron, guillotined.

[275] Marie, Princess of Hesse-Rheinfelz, married the Duc de
Bouillon, the head, and last direct representative, of the family
of La Tour d'Auvergne. She was by her marriage connected with
the Princesse de Poix, and her cousin, the Princesse d'Hénin.
The three ladies were known as _les trois princesses combinées_.
Madame de Bouillon and her husband both died in exile.

[276] Necker's _Réflexions offertes à la nation française_
appeared in November, 1792.

603.

_To Lady Sheffield._

Lausanne, November 10, 1792.

[Sidenote: NEITHER MONSTER NOR STATUE.]

*I could never forgive myself, were I capable of writing by the same post, a political Epistle to the father, and a friendly letter to the daughter, without sending any token of remembrance to the respectable Matron, my dearest My lady, whom I have now loved as a sister for something better or worse than twenty years. No, indeed, the historian may be careless, he may be indolent, he may always intend and never execute, but he is neither a monster nor a statue; he has a memory, a conscience, a heart, and that heart is sincerely devoted to Lady S. He must even acknowledge the fallacy of a sophism which he has sometimes used, and she has always and most truly denied; that, where the persons of a family are strictly united, the writing to one is in fact writing to all; and that consequently all his numerous letters to the husband, may be considered as equally addressed to the wife. He feels, on the contrary, that separate minds have their distinct ideas and sentiments, and that each character, either in speaking or writing, has its peculiar tone of conversation. He agrees with the maxim of Rousseau, that three friends who wish to disclose a common secret, will impart it only _deux à deux_; and he is satisfied that, on the present memorable occasion, each of the persons of the Sheffield family will claim a peculiar share in this triple missive, which will communicate, however, a triple satisfaction. The experience of what may be effected by vigorous resolution, encourages the historian to hope that he shall cast the skin of the old serpent, and hereafter show himself as a new creature.*

And first let me congratulate yourself and your friends on the present happy state of your mental and corporeal faculties, of which I have gained the pleasing intelligence, not only from the hints in Lord S. and Maria's letters, but still more clearly from your own long and spirited Epistle to young Severy, which he received with gratitude and will answer with speed.

*I lament, on all our accounts, that the last year's expedition to Lausanne did not take place in a golden period;* the more familiar and cheerful intercourse with Madame de Severy would have opened your hearts to each other. I should have escaped many moments of painful though silent sympathy, and every object in Nature and society would have appeared to your eyes with a different aspect and colour. *But we must reflect, that human felicity is seldom without alloy; and if we cannot indulge the hope of your making a second visit to Lausanne, we must look forwards to my residence next summer at Sheffield-place, where I must find you in the full bloom of health, spirits, and beauty. I can perceive, by all public and private intelligence, that your house has been the open hospital Azylum of French fugitives; and it is a sufficient proof of the firmness of your nerves, that you have not been overwhelmed or agitated by such a concourse of strangers. Curiosity and compassion may, in some degree, have supported you. Every day has presented to your view some new scene of that strange tragical romance, which occupies all Europe so infinitely beyond any event that has happened in our time, and you have the satisfaction of not being a mere spectator of the distress of so many victims of false liberty. The benevolent fame of Lord S. is widely diffused.

From Angletine's last letter to Maria, you have already some idea of the melancholy state of her poor father. As long as Mr. de Severy allowed our hopes and fears to fluctuate with the changes of his disorder, I was unwilling to say anything on so painful a subject; and it is with the deepest concern that I now confess our absolute despair of his recovery. All his particular complaints are now lost in a general dissolution of the whole frame: every principle of life is exhausted, and as often as I am admitted to his bed-side, though he still looks and smiles with the patience of an Angel, I have the heartfelt grief of seeing him each day drawing nearer to the term of his existence. A few weeks, possibly a few days, will deprive me of a most excellent friend, and break for ever the most perfect system of domestic happiness, in which I had so large and intimate a share. Wilhelm (who has obtained leave of absence from his military duty) and his sister behave and feel like tender and dutiful children; but they have a long gay prospect of life, and new connexions, new families will make them forget, in due time, the common lot of mortality. But it is Madame de Severy whom I truly pity; I dread the effects of the first shock, and I dread still more the deep perpetual consuming affliction for a loss which can never be retrieved.

[Sidenote: GIBBON'S ALTERED SITUATION.]

You will not wonder that such reflections sadden my own mind, nor can I forget how much my situation is altered since I retired, nine years ago, to the banks of the Leman lake. The death of poor Deyverdun first deprived me of a domestic companion, who can never be supplied; and your visit has only served to remind me that man, however amused and occupied in his Closet, was not made to live alone. Severy will soon be no more; his widow for a long time, perhaps for ever, will be lost to herself and her friends, the son will travel, and I shall be left a stranger in the insipid circle of mere common acquaintance. The Revolution of France, which first embittered and divided the Society of Lausanne, has opposed a barrier to my Sussex visit, and may finally expell me from the paradise which I inhabit. Even that paradise, the expensive and delightful establishment of my house, library, and garden, almost becomes an incumbrance, by rendering it more difficult for me to relinquish my hold, or to form a new system of life in my native Country, for which my income, though improved and improving, would be probably insufficient. But every complaint should be silenced by the contemplation of the French; compared with whose cruel fate, all misery is relative happiness. I perfectly concurr in your partiality for Lally; though Nature might forget some meaner ingredients, of prudence, economy, &c., she never formed a purer heart, or a brighter imagination. If he be with you, I beg my kindest salutations to him. I am every day more closely united with the Neckers. Should France break, and this country be over-run, they would be reduced, in very humble circumstances, to seek a refuge; and where but in England? Adieu, dear Madam: there is, indeed, much pleasure in discharging one's heart to a real friend.*

Ever yours,
E. G.

604.

_To the Hon. Maria Holroyd._

Lausanne, Nov. 10, 1792.

In dispatching the weekly political journal to Lord Sheffield, my conscience (for I have some remains of conscience) most powerfully urges me to salute, with some lines of friendship and gratitude, the amiable secretary, who might save herself the trouble of a modest apology. I have not yet forgotten our different behaviour after the much lamented _separation_ of October the 4th, 1791, your meritorious punctuality, and my unworthy silence. I have still before me that entertaining narrative, which would have interested me, not only in the progress of the _carissima famiglia_, but in the motions of a Tartar camp, or the march of a caravan of Arabs; the mixture of just observation and lively imagery, the strong sense of a man, expressed with the easy elegance of a female. I still recollect with pleasure the happy comparison of the Rhine, who had heard so much of liberty on both his banks, that he wandered with mischievous licentiousness over all the adjacent meadows. The inundation, alas! has now spread much wider; and it is sadly to be feared that the Elbe, the Po, and the Danube, may imitate the vile example of the Rhine: I shall be content, however, if our own Thames still preserves his fair character of

Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full.

These agreeable epistles of Maria produced only some dumb intentions, and some barren remorse; nor have I deigned, except by a brief missive from my chancellor, to express how much I loved the author, and how much I was pleased with the composition. That amiable author I have known and loved from the first dawning of her life and _coquetry_, to the present maturity of her talents; and as long as I remain on this planet, I shall pursue, with the same tender and even anxious concern, the future steps of her establishment and life. That establishment must be splendid; that life must be happy. She is endowed with every gift of nature and fortune; but the advantage which she will derive from them, depends almost entirely on herself. You must not, you shall not, think yourself unworthy to write to any man: there is none whom your correspondence would not amuse and satisfy.

I will not undertake a task, which my taste would adopt, and my indolence would too soon relinquish; but I am really curious, from the best motives, to have a particular account of your own studies and daily occupation. What books do you read? and how do you employ your time and your pen? Except some professed scholars, I have often observed that women in general read much more than men; but, for want of a plan, a method, a fixed object, their reading is of little benefit to themselves, or others. If you will inform me of the species of reading to which you have the most propensity, I shall be happy to contribute my share of advice or assistance.

I lament that you have not left me some monument of your pencil. Lady Elizabeth Foster has executed a very pretty drawing, taken from the door of the green-house where we dined last summer, and including the poor Acacia, (now recovered from the cruel shears of the gardener,) the end of the terrace, the front of the Pavilion, and a distant view of the country, lake, and mountains. I am almost reconciled to d'Apples' house, which is nearly finished. Instead of the monsters which Lord Hercules Sheffield extirpated, the terrace is already shaded with the new acacias and plantanes; and although the uncertainty of possession restrains me from building, I myself have planted a bosquet at the bottom of the garden, with such admirable skill that it affords shade without intercepting prospect.

[Sidenote: SOCIETY OF LADY E. FOSTER.]

The society of the aforesaid Eliza, of the Duchess of Devonshire, &c. has been very interesting; but they are now flown beyond the Alps, and pass the winter at Pisa. The Legards, who have long since left this place, should be at present in Italy; but I believe Mrs. Grimstone and her daughter returned to England. The Levades are highly flattered by your remembrance. Since you still retain some attachment to this delightful country, and it is indeed delightful, why should you despair of seeing it once more? The happy peer or commoner, whose name you may assume, is still concealed in the book of fate; but, whosoever he may be, he will cheerfully obey your commands, of leading you from ---- Castle to Lausanne, and from Lausanne to Rome and Naples. Before that event takes place, I may possibly see you in Sussex; and, whether as a visitor or a fugitive, I hope to be welcomed with a friendly embrace. The delay of this year was truly painful, but it was inevitable; and individuals must submit to those storms which have overturned the thrones of the earth.

The tragic story of the Archbishop of Arles I have now somewhat a better right to require at your hands. I wish to have it in all its horrid details; and as you are now so much mingled with the French exiles, I am of opinion, that were you to keep a journal of all the authentic facts which they relate, it would be an agreeable exercise at present, and a future source of entertainment and instruction.

I should be obliged to you, if you would make, or find, some excuse for my not answering a letter from your aunt, which was presented to me by Mr. Fowler. I shewed him some civilities, but he is now a poor invalid, confined to his room. By her channel and yours I should be glad to have some information of the health, spirits, and situation of Mrs. Gibbon of Bath, whose alarms (if she has any) you may dispel. She is in my debt. Adieu; most truly yours.

605.

_The Hon. Maria Holroyd to Edward Gibbon._

Sheffield Place, November, 1792.

Your three letters received yesterday caused the most sincere pleasure to each individual of this family so highly favoured by you--but to none more than myself. I flatter myself that I despise general compliments as they deserve, but praise (tho' I fear, beyond my deserts) from one whose opinion I so highly value, and whose esteem I so much wish to gain, is more pleasing than I can describe, & I really think, thus encouraged, & with your _example_ before me, to shew _bad habits may_ be conquered. I had not neglected to make the collection of facts which you recommend, and which the great variety of unfortunate persons whom we see, or with whom we correspond, enables me to make.

As to the other part of your letter about _my studies_, I can only say, the slightest hint on that subject will be always received with the greatest gratitude, and attended to with the utmost punctuality. French history I am most acquainted with--English, I am ashamed to say, I am much less versed in. I have read Hume, but not since I came to years of discretion, & what is read as a _task_ seldom is well attended to. I am now reading a _certain_ work, in 6 Vols. Quarto or 12 Duodecimo, which I was acquainted with before, only by reading it after supper, frequently with long interruptions caused by Company, &c., & which only raised my curiosity to give it more attention. It would be Impertinence or at best but a Drop in the Ocean to add my mite to the opinion of the generality of the World, & say how much the Subject interests or the Style delights me. When this work is read thro', I intend to proceed with English history. I again repeat, if you condescend to favour me with any directions on this subject, I shall follow them with the greatest pleasure; but if you should not, I am much flattered that you should desire to hear from me, & should have sent you the horrid account of the massacre aux Carmes before, if I had thought you would have been desirous of it. I have not seen the details in any newspaper, & one of the eight Priests, who dined here, & had escaped from the massacre, related the whole with such simplicity & feeling, as to leave no doubt of the truth of all he said.

[Sidenote: MURDER OF THE ARCHBISHOP OF ARLES.]

On the 2^d of Sep^{ber} they went into the garden, as usual, to walk at five o'clock in the evening. They expressed their surprize at several large pits, which had been digging for two or three days past. They said to each other, "The day is almost spent, & yet Manuel[277] told a person who interceded for us, last Thursday, that on the Sunday following not one should remain in captivity--we are still Prisoners." Soon after, they heard shouts, and some musquet shots were fired into the Garden. A number of National Guards, some Commissaires _de Sections_, & several Marseillois, rushed in. The unhappy victims who were dispersed about the Garden, assembled under the Walls of the Church, not daring to enter, least it should be polluted with blood. One, who was behind the rest, was shot dead. _Point de coups de fusil_ said some of the Chiefs of the assassins, thinking this death too merciful. A number of them called for the Archbishop of Arles,[278] & insisted that he should be given up to them, the Priests all crowded round him, & determined to defend him with their Lives. The Archbishop then said, "Let me pass; if we must all perish, it is of little consequence whether I die first or not, & if my death will appease them, is it not my duty to preserve your Lives at the expense of my own?" He asked the eldest of the Priests to give him Absolution--he knelt to receive it, & when he rose, advanced, with his arms crossed on his breast, towards the People. His appearance was so dignified & noble, that for ten minutes not one of these Wretches had courage to raise their hand against him. They reproached each other with cowardice & advanced--one look from the venerable Prelate struck them with involuntary awe, & they retired. At last, one of the assassins struck off his Cap with a Pike--their fury returned when they saw respect once violated, & another struck him on the head with a Sabre, & laid open his scalp. The Archbishop only said, "O mon Dieu!" & put up his right hand to his eyes. A second blow cut off this hand--he repeated his exclamation & raised the other. A third stroke left him sitting, & a fourth extended him lifeless, when all the Miscreants pressed forwards, to bury their Poniards in his bosom.

The Priests all agreed that the Archbishop of Arles was one of the most amiable men in France--his only _crime_ was having parted with most of his private fortune to support the necessitous Clergy of his Diocese, since the beginning of the Revolution. When he was murdered, the National Guards made all the Priests go into the Church, telling them they should appear, one after another, before the _Commissaires du Section_, who would try them and determine their fate. They had hardly entered, before the People impatiently called for them to shew themselves--upon which, all kneeling before the Altar, they received Absolution from the B^p of Beauvais--& then, two by two, passed before one of the commissaires, who did not question, but only counted his victims. In this manner, perished 120 Priests, amongst whom were the Bishops of Beauvais and Xaintes, both of the Rochefoucauld family.[279] _Our friends_ escaped by getting over the Wall.

I am afraid I have tired your patience, & that you did not expect such a tedious history. Mad^{e}. d'Hénin & Pauline are at Boulogne; they have gained nothing by going there, & are afraid they may find it difficult returning to England. The seal of the Nation is put on all Mad^{e}. d'Hénin's effects; she is not able to keep a single servant--she says, Pauline & she must wait on each other. Papa, who is more alarmed than I ever saw him, will write to you soon, _politically_. Mama will likewise answer your letter, & in the mean time desires many thanks for it. Will you say everything affectionate to Angletine for her letter? I feel sincerely for the situation of that family, & if you can send any good news of M. de Severy's amendment, I trust you will write. It was particularly kind of Angletine to write when her mind must be so ill at ease--but it is not flung away upon me. I am anything but _une Ingrate_. Mrs. Moss is here, & speaks with delight of your house, your terrace, & of the great civility you showed her. Judge if Lausanne is ever the subject of our conversation.

We left Louisa & Aunt at Bath very well, they both desire to be remembered to you when we wrote. Mrs. Gibbon looks as well as ever, but is really very unwell.

[277] Louis Pierre Manuel (1751-1793) was one of the leaders
in the insurrections of June 20 and August 10, 1792. He was
at this time _procureur_ of the Commune of Paris. At the
king's trial he defended Louis XVI., and, accused of being a
counter-revolutionist, was guillotined in November, 1793.

[278] Jean Marie François Dulau.

[279] They were brothers, and belonged to the family of
Rochefoucauld-Bayers.

606.

_Lord Sheffield to Edward Gibbon._

Bristol, 14th Nov., 1792.

[Sidenote: A FOOLISH GAME IN IRELAND.]

I snatch an interval likely to be very short, to acknowledge you have some merit in a 14th day epistle, although you fasted as to your 7th day. I was glad to hear of the agreement on the subject of Geneva. As the French troops were immediately to return 10 leagues, and before the evacuation, I think it honourable, but my political barometer never was so low. During the last 35 years on no occasion it had materially sunk. It never experienced any great depression till the wonderful and in some degree inexplicable phenomena of the later part of last September. I had some hope that Europe would see the necessity of making a common cause against the Disturbers of the World. But I have not a ray of hope. The failure of the combined army has of course encouraged and increased a bad spirit in this country, but it has not as yet shewn itself except in some towns. And in such, mischief always begins. The respectable and considerable men of both parties among my constituents are right. Government had risked a foolish game in Ireland, playing Roman Catholics against Protestants, and openly supporting the former, granting too much, and giving further hopes, which has produced sedition and brought them to the brink of rebellion, but within a few weeks it has been determined to go no farther and to support the Protestant Ascendency--better late than never, but some knocks probably will ensue.

I believe I forgot to assure you in my last that Newspaper account of our friend Lord L.[280] and his acceptance of Seals is premature, and that there is no prospect of such an event unless with the concurrence and accession of the Mass of the party. I rather suspect some of our friends have more of the shew than the reality, of wishing or expecting, or promoting healthy conjunction of parties--but they are few.

I scolded you about the Madeira because I thought it lost thro' your neglect of writing, but I have the pleasure of finding that it was only delayed, and is now on its road. So writes Muligan's correspondent in Holland. I shall send this to Maria to finish. My eyes are very weak.

I do not know what to add to Papa's _croaking_ Epistle, except to ask if you will give us an Asylum at Lausanne when this country is in the state of France. If you should answer in the affirmative, I am afraid you would make me an enemy to my country and wish it very ill. _I_ think Papa very _ungrateful_ for your very great kindness and attention in writing so frequently--at a time so very interesting, but I believe he is afraid of praising you too much, least you should think you have done enough. If you were a witness of the pleasure your letters give all the family, I think you would not talk of sinking into a _long and irreproachable silence_. Mama assures me you will not write to me. Pray make her say the thing that is not, for once in her life. We leave Bath next Sunday, after having enjoyed the gaieties of the place a fortnight. Louisa is to remain here all the Winter. She desires to be particularly remembered to you. Switzerland is our daily subject of conversation and regret. Witness our hands this 15th day of November.

MARIA JOSEPHA HOLROYD,
LOUISA DOROTHEA HOLROYD.

[280] Lord Loughborough accepted the Great Seal as Lord
Chancellor in January, 1793.

607.

_To Lord Sheffield._

Lausanne, Nov. 25th, 1792.

*After the triple labour of my last dispatch, your experience of the creature might tempt you to suspect that it would again relapse into a long slumber. But, partly from the spirit of contradiction, (though I am not a lady) and partly from the ease and pleasure which I now find in the task, you see me again alive, awake, and almost faithful to my hebdomadal promise. The last week has not, however, afforded any events deserving the notice of an historian. Our affairs are still floating on the waves of the convention, and the ratification of a corrected treaty,[281] which had been fixed for the 20th, is not yet arrived; but the report of the diplomatic committee has been favourable, and it is generally understood that the leaders of the French Republic do not wish to quarrel with the Swiss. We are gradually withdrawing and disbanding our militia. Geneva will be left to sink or swim, according to the humour of the people; and our last hope appears to be, that by submission and good behaviour we shall avert for some time the impending storm.

[Sidenote: FLIGHT OF A FRENCH GENERAL.]

A few days ago, an odd incident happened in the French army; the desertion of the general. As the Neckers were sitting, about eight o'clock in the evening, in their drawing-room at Rolle, the door flew open, and they were astounded by their servant's announcing _Monsieur le General de Montesquiou_! On the receipt of some secret intelligence of a _decrét d'accusation_, and an order to arrest him, he had only time to get on horseback, to gallop through Geneva, to take boat for Coppet, and to escape from his pursuers, who were ordered to seize him alive or dead. He left the Neckers after supper, passed through Lausanne in the night, and proceeded to Berne and Basle, whence he intended to wind his way through Germany, amidst enemies of every description, and to seek a refuge in England, America, or the moon. He told Necker, that the sole remnant of his fortune consisted in a wretched sum of twenty thousand livres; but the public report, or suspicion, bespeaks him in much better circumstances. Besides the reproach of acting with too much tameness and delay, he is accused of making very foul and exorbitant contracts:[282] and it is certain that new Sparta is infected with this vice beyond the example of the most corrupt monarchy. Kellerman[283] is arrived to take the command; and it is apprehended that on the first of December, after the departure of the Swiss, the French may _request_ the permission of using Geneva, a friendly city, for their winter quarters. In that case, the democratical revolution, which we all foresee, will be very speedily effected.[284]

I would ask you, whether you apprehend there was any treason in the Duke of Brunswick's retreat, and whether you have totally withdrawn your confidence and esteem from that once-famed general? Will it be possible for England to preserve her neutrality with any honour or safety? We are bound, as I understand, by treaty, to guarantee the dominions of the King of Sardinia and the Austrian provinces of the Netherlands. These countries are now invaded and over-run by the French. Can we refuse to fulfil our engagements, without exposing ourselves to all Europe as a perfidious or pusillanimous nation? Yet, on the other hand, can we assist those allies, without plunging headlong into an abyss, whose bottom no man can discover? But my chief anxiety is for our domestic tranquillity; for I must find a retreat in England, should I be driven from Lausanne. The idea of firm and honourable union of parties pleases me much; but you must frankly unfold what are the great difficulties that may impede so salutary a measure: you write to a man discreet in speech, and now careful of papers. Yet what can such a coalition avail if Fox be detestable and Pitt democratical? Where is the champion of the constitution? Alas, Lord Guildford! I am much pleased with the Manchester ass. The asses or wolves who sacrificed him have cast off the mask too soon; and such a nonsensical act must open the eyes of many simple patriots, who might have been led astray by the specious name of reform. It should be made as notorious as possible. Next winter may be the crisis of our fate, and if you begin to improve the constitution, you may be driven step by step from the disfranchisement of Old Sarum to the king in Newgate, the lords voted useless, the bishops abolished, and a house of commons without articles (_sans culottes_).

[Sidenote: MADAME DE STAEL.]

Necker has ordered you a copy of his royal defence, which has met with, and deserved, universal success. The pathetic and argumentative parts are, in my opinion, equally good, and his mild eloquence may persuade without irritating. I have applied to this gentler tone some verses of Ovid (Metamorph. 1. iii. 302, &c.[285]) which you may read. Madame de Stael has produced a second son. She talks wildly enough of visiting England this winter.* Her friend the Vicomte de Narbonne is somewhere about Dorking. If you could shew him any civilities she would thank us both. She is a pleasant little woman.

No news from Basil or Ostend of my Madeira. Pray contrive to get me a mortgage; there is nothing like land or landed security. Poor Mrs. G. in such a state! I can only wish her an easy dismission. I wish the same to poor Severy, whose *condition is hopeless. Should he drag through the winter, Madame de S. would scarcely survive him. She kills herself with grief and fatigue. What a difference in Lausanne! I hope triple answers are on the road. I must write soon; the _times_ will not allow me to read or think. Ever yours.*

No. 6 (I believe). Send me a list of these letters, with their respective dates.

[281] _I.e._ the treaty of November 2.

[282] The report of the Diplomatic Committee (November 21) on the
treaties which Montesquieu had signed with Geneva, speaks of him
as a man who "had put his name to many fraudulent and usurious
proceedings, and who appeared to regard the Revolution as a
speculation and a new kind of stock-jobbing."

[283] François Christophe de Kellerman (1735-1820) was the hero
of the battle of Valmy. In 1804 he was created Duc de Valmy by
Napoleon.

[284] Gibbon's surmise proved correct. On December 3, and again
on December 27, the _Représentants_ rose in arms, threatened to
call in the aid of the French army if they were opposed, and
replaced the Petit Conseil and the Conseil des Deux-Cents by two
committees, organized on a popular basis, who exercised all the
powers which were previously in the hands of the aristocracy.

[285]

Quà tamen usque potest, vires sibi demere tentat.
Nec, quo centimanum dejecerat igne Typhœa,
Nunc armatur eo: nimiùm feritatis in illo.
Est aliud levius fulmen; cui dextra Cyclopum
Sævitiæ, flammæque minus, minus addidit iræ:
Tela secunda vocant Superi.

608.

_To his Stepmother._

Lausanne, Nov. 25, 1792.

MY DEAREST MADAM,

My friend Lord Sheffield has just informed of your late illness
and happy recovery, and though I will not oppress you by a long
letter, I cannot refrain from writing six lines to express my
concern for the one and my joy for the other. It is my intention
(if any road be open) to reach England early next summer, when
I shall hasten to Bath, and hope to find you perfectly revived
in health and spirits. We have had some slight alarms in this
country, but they are now past, and amidst the general hurricane
we hope to sleep without any troublesome dreams. Adieu, my Dear
Madam; if your hand be too feeble to write yourself, could you
not employ that of a friend to send me a short and sincere
account?

I am
Ever yours,
E. GIBBON.

609.

_Lord Sheffield to Edward Gibbon._

Downing Street, 14 Dec., 1792.

Being harrassed in an extraordinary degree, I with ease persuaded
myself that it should be better to delay my letter till this
day, that I might say what passed in opening the Parliament
yesterday.[286] Your extraordinary effort to write so much
would have immediately forced me to answer if I had not known
that Maria had despatched a packet, and that My Lady threatened
another. I must acknowledge that Maria pressed me every post to
take up the political part of the correspondence. But you will be
satisfied with my occupation lately.

[Sidenote: THE CONSTITUTION IS THE FRENZY.]