PRIVATE LETTERS
OF
EDWARD GIBBON

(1753-1794).

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
THE EARL OF SHEFFIELD.

EDITED BY
ROWLAND E. PROTHERO,
18 BARRISTER-AT-LAW, SOME-TIME FELLOW OF ALL SOULS' COLLEGE, OXFORD.

VOL. I.

LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1896.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

INTRODUCTION BY THE EARL OF SHEFFIELD.

The centenary of the death of Edward Gibbon (died January, 1794, aged fifty-six) was recorded by a public commemoration held in London in November, 1894, at the instance of the Royal Historical Society. The distinguished committee of English and foreign students, who were associated on that occasion, invited me to become their President, as representing the family with which Gibbon had been so intimately connected, and which still retained the portraits, manuscripts, letters, and relics of the historian. The exhibition of these in the British Museum, and the commemoration held on November 15, reawakened interest in the work and remains of one of the greatest names in English literature; and a general desire was expressed that the manuscripts should be again collated, and that what was yet unpublished might be given to the world.

As is well known, it was my grandfather, the first Earl, who made the historian almost his adopted brother, gave him a home both in town and in country, was his devisee and literary executor, and edited and published the famous Autobiography, the letters, and remains. All of these passed under Edward Gibbon's will to Lord Sheffield; and, together with books, relics, portraits, and various mementos, they have been for a century preserved by my father and myself with religions care and veneration in Sheffield Park. The original autograph manuscripts of the Memoirs, the Diaries, Letters, Note-books, etc., have now become the property of the British Museum, subject to the copyright of all the unpublished parts which was previously assigned to Mr. Murray. And it is with no little pleasure and pride that I have acceded to the request of the publishers that I would introduce these unpublished remains to the world, and thus complete the task of editing the historian, to which my grandfather devoted so great a portion of his time, not only as a testamentary duty, but as a labour of love.

The connection of the historian with my grandfather, his early friend, John Holroyd, and the members of the Holroyd family, forms one of the pleasantest and also most interesting passages in literary history. It was in no way interrupted by Lord Sheffield's public and official duties; it was continued without a cloud to obscure their intimacy, until it was sundered by death; and the Earl, who survived his friend so long, continued to edit and to publish the manuscripts left in his hands for some twenty years after the death of the historian.

By a clause in the will of Edward Gibbon, dated July 14, 1788, his papers were entrusted to Lord Sheffield and Mr. John Batt, his executors, in the following terms:—

"I will that all my Manuscript papers found at the time of my decease be delivered to my executors, and that if any shall appear sufficiently finished for the public eye, they do treat for the purchase of the same with a Bookseller, giving the preference to Mr. Andrew Strahan and Mr. Thomas Cadell, whose liberal spirit I have experienced in similar transactions. And whatsoever monies may accrue from such sale and publication I give to my much-valued friend William Hayley, Esq., of Eastham, in the County of Sussex. But in case he shall dye before me, I give the aforesaid monies to the Royal Society of London and the Royal Academy of Inscriptions of Paris, share and share alike, in trust to be by them employed in such a manner as they shall deem most beneficial to the cause of Learning."

In pursuance of the directions contained in the will and of many verbal communications, Lord Sheffield, in 1799, published the Miscellaneous Works of Edward Gibbon, with Memoirs of his Life and Writings, in 2 vols., 4to. A third volume was added in 1815, and a new edition of the whole, with additions, appeared during the same year in 5 vols., 8vo. In 1837 another edition, in one large 8vo volume, was published.

By a clause in his own will, Lord Sheffield directed that no further publication of the historian's manuscripts should be made.

"And I request of my said trustees and my heirs that none of the said manuscripts, papers, or books of the said Edward Gibbon be published unless my approbation of the publication be directed by some memorandum indorsed and written or signed by me. And I also request the person entitled for the time being to the possession thereof not to suffer the same to be out of his possession or to be improperly exposed."

This direction has been strictly followed by my father, the second Earl, and by myself; and it is believed that no person has ever had access to any of the manuscripts for any literary purpose, excepting the late Dean Milman, who, when editing his well-known edition of the Decline and Fall, in 1842, was permitted to inspect the original manuscripts of the Autobiography, on condition of not publishing any new matter.

The commemoration of 1894, however, again raised the question whether such an embargo on giving to the world writings of national importance was ever meant to be, or even ought to be, regarded as perpetual. Whilst persons named in these papers or their children were living, whilst the bitter controversies of the last century were still unforgotten, whilst the fame of Edward Gibbon had hardly yet become one of our national glories, it was a matter of good feeling and sound judgment in Lord Sheffield to exercise an editor's discretion in publishing his friend's confession and private thoughts. Now that more than a hundred years have passed since his death, no such considerations have weight or meaning. And the opinion of those whom I have consulted, both professionally and as private friends, amply corroborates my own conclusion, that it is a duty which I owe to my own ancestor and to the public to give to the world all the remains of the historian which for more than a century have been preserved in the strong room of Sheffield Park.

The unlocking of the cases in which these manuscripts were secured was quite a revelation of literary workmanship, and has led to a most interesting problem in literary history. The manuscripts of the historian are all holographs—the text of the famous Memoirs being written with extraordinary beauty of calligraphy, and studied with the utmost care. But, singularly enough, none of the texts are prepared for immediate, or even direct, publication. The historian wrote, at various intervals between 1788 and 1793, no less than six different sketches. They are not quite continuous; they partly recount the same incidents in different form; they are written in different tones: and yet no one of them is complete; none of them seem plainly designed to supersede the rest. There is even a small seventh sketch, from which one of the noblest and most famous passages that Gibbon ever wrote has been excised, and inserted in the published Autobiography.

Lord Sheffield executed his editorial task with extreme judgment, singular ingenuity, but remarkable freedom. He was assisted in preparing the manuscripts for publication by his wife and by Lady Maria Holroyd, his eldest daughter, who became by marriage the first Lady Stanley of Alderley. This very able and remarkable woman, of whose abilities the historian expressed in letters his great admiration, evidently marked the manuscripts in pencil handwriting (now recognized as hers) for the printer's copyist. These pencil deletions, transpositions, and even additions, correspond with the Autobiography as published by Lord Sheffield. Quite a third of the whole manuscript is omitted, and many of the most piquant passages that Gibbon ever wrote were suppressed by the caution or the delicacy of his editor and his family.

The result is a problem of singular literary interest. A piece, most elaborately composed by one of the greatest writers who ever used our language, an autobiography often pronounced to be the best we possess, is now proved to be in no sense the simple work of that illustrious pen, but to have been dexterously pieced together out of seven fragmentary sketches and adapted into a single and coherent narrative. The manner and the extent of this extraordinary piece of editing has been so fully explained in the address of November 15, published by the Centenary Committee, that it is not necessary for me to enlarge upon it further.

No sooner had the discovery of the process by which Gibbon's Autobiography had been concocted been made public, than a general desire was expressed to have the originals published in the form in which the historian left them. It was no case of incomplete or illegible manuscripts, nor of rough drafts designed only as notes for subsequent composition. The whole of the seven manuscripts are written with perfect precision; the style is in Gibbon's most elaborate manner; and each piece is perfectly ready for the printer—so far as it goes. It was impossible to do again the task of consolidation so admirably performed by Lord Sheffield. Nothing remained but to print the whole of the pieces verbatim, as the historian wrote them, not necessarily in the order of time of their apparent composition, but so as to form a consecutive narrative of the author's life.

The reader may now rest assured that, for the first time, he has before him the Autobiographic Sketches of Edward Gibbon in the exact form in which he left them at his death. The portions enclosed in dark brackets are the passages which were omitted by Lord Sheffield, and in the notes are inserted the passages or sentences, few and simple in themselves, which Lord Sheffield added to the original manuscript. For various reasons it was found impracticable to print the six sketches in parallel columns; but the admirers of the historian and all students of English literature will find abundant opportunity for collating the original texts with each other, and with the text as published by the editor, and now for a century current as one of the masterpieces of English literature.

The Letters of the historian, the bulk of which were addressed to Lord Sheffield and his family, were published in part by my grandfather in one or other of the editions of The Miscellaneous Works of Edward Gibbon. But in this collection many letters were omitted, and most of them were printed with some omissions and variations. These omissions have now been restored; and the Letters, like the other papers of our author, are now for the first time given to the world in the form in which they were composed.

I cannot pretend to any rivalry with my grandfather in the matter of the skill with which he performed the task of editing and selecting for publication the remains of his friend. But I can assure the reader that every piece contained in this volume as the work of Edward Gibbon is now printed exactly as he wrote it without suppression or emendation. And in transferring these literary treasures to the nation, and in giving them to the world, I feel that I am fulfilling the trust which the historian reposed in my grandfather, and am acting in the spirit of the lifelong friendship that bound him to my family.

I cannot conclude these prefatory remarks without acknowledging to the fullest extent the obligation I am under to Mr. Frederic Harrison for the assistance he has given me in the preparation and composition of this Preface.

EDITOR'S PREFACE.

This collection of Gibbon's correspondence, extending as it does from 1753 to 1794, practically covers the whole of the historian's life, and contains his observations on society, literature, and politics during a period which includes such momentous events as the Seven Years' War, the War of American Independence, and the French Revolution.

By far the greater number of the letters now appear for the first time; but portions of the correspondence, marked in this edition with asterisks, were printed by Lord Sheffield shortly after Gibbon's death. These published portions were treated by the editor with great tact and more freedom. Lord Sheffield was giving to the world letters which discussed recent events and criticised living persons; it was, therefore, necessary for him to suppress some allusions and conceal many names. Jealous of his friend's literary reputation, he corrects errors in spelling or grammar, gives a dignified turn to the more homely phrases, and omits as trivial the petty details of domestic life. Sometimes, also, Lord Sheffield's editorial methods pass beyond the exercise of these more or less legitimate powers. In order to concentrate the interest of the correspondence, he culls a few lines from one letter, chooses a sentence from a second, extracts a passage from a third, and prints his patchwork as a genuine letter from Gibbon's own hand.

In this edition the letters are printed as they were written. For the blanks which conceal the identity of persons are substituted the real names; the suppressed passages are restored; the spelling and grammar of the original are preserved; the language is left as Gibbon wrote it. If the Memoirs give us Gibbon in the full dress of a fine gentleman of letters, the correspondence reveals to us the man as he was known to his valet and his housekeeper.

The letters have the ease and freshness of conversations with intimate friends, and, considering the character of the century in which they were written, they present one feature which deserves special notice. Only one short sentence has been omitted as too coarse to be printed. With this solitary exception, the reader knows the worst as well as the best of Gibbon, and there are scarcely a dozen phrases, scattered over 800 pages, which will offend good taste or good feeling.

The notes must speak for themselves. Though some points on which information is needed remain obscure, it is hoped that, so far as they go, they may be found useful. In their correction and revision, valuable aid has been given by Mr. G. H. Holden, Assistant Librarian at All Souls' College, Oxford.

ERRATA.

Vol. I. page 185, note, last line, for "Roslyn" read "Rosslyn."
" " 314, note 2, line 7, for "Madame du Barry" read "Madame du Barri."
" " 386, note 2, for "Wibraham" read "Wilbraham."
Vol. II. page 4, note 1 (twice), for "Bushy" read "Bushey."

GIBBON'S CORRESPONDENCE.

1753-1794.

On June 8, 1753, Edward Gibbon, then sixteen years of age, and an undergraduate of Magdalen College, Oxford, was received into the Roman Catholic Church by a Jesuit named Baker, one of the chaplains to the Sardinian Embassy. His change of religion led to his removal from the University, and decided his father to place him under the care of M. Pavillard, a Calvinist minister at Lausanne. Escorted by M. Frey, a Swiss gentleman of Basle, Gibbon left England on June 19, 1753. His first letter announces his safe arrival.

1.

To his Father.

[Lausanne], July 30th, 1753.

Dear Sir,

I must beg you to excuse my not having wrote till now, but knowing that Mr. Frey had given you an account of my safe arrival by the first post, I chose to stay some time, that I might be able to give you a more exact account of my present situation. After a pretty tiresome journey of eleven days, I got safe to Lausanne. Mr. Frey, when he had delivered me into Mr. Pavilliard's hands, left the place and went to Geneva. I have now been with him a month, and during the whole time have been treated by him with the greatest civility imaginable. I read French twice every day with him. I already understand almost all that is said, and can ask for any common things I want. With regard to other things, the people here are extremely civil to strangers, and endeavour to make this town as agreeable as possible. The English here are Mr. Townshend, nephew to the present Lord Townshend, Lord Huntingtower, Mr. Crofts, and Mr. Umberstone. I have also been introduced to the Earl of Blessington, who resides here now with his family, as well as to Madame de Brissoné, to whom you gave me a letter of recommendation, and who is an extremely agreeable woman. This is the chief I have to say of the place. As to the climate, I have reason to think it will agree extremely well with me. When I was at Calais my books were seized and sent to Paris to be examined, but a friend there, whom Mr. Frey has wrote to, is to send them to Lausanne. I must beg my sincere compliments to Miss Ellison.

I am, dear Sir,
With the greatest respect and sincerity,
Your most obedient and most dutiful son,
Edward Gibbon.

2.

To his Aunt, Miss Catherine Porten.[1]

February, 1755.

"Pray remember this letter was not addressed to his mother-in-law, but his aunt, an old cat as she was to refuse his request."[2]

Dear Madam,

*I have at length good news to tell you; I am now a good Protestant, and am extremely glad of it.[3] I have in all my letters taken notice of the different movements of my mind. Entirely Catholic when I came to Lausanne, wavering long time between the two systems, and at last fixed for the Protestant, when that conflict was over, I had still another difficulty. Brought up with all the ideas of the Church of England, I could scarce resolve to communion with Presbyterians, as all the people of this country are. I at last got over it in considering that, whatever difference there may be between their churches and ours in the government and discipline, they still regard us as brethren, and profess the same faith as us. Determined, then, in my design, I declared it to the ministers of the town assembled at Mr. Pavilliard's, who, having examined me, approved of it, and permitted me to receive the communion with them, which I did Christmas Day, from the hands of Mr. Pavilliard, who appeared extremely glad of it. I am so extremely myself, and do assure you feel a joy pure, and the more so as I know it to be not only innocent but laudable.*

Could I leave off here I should be very glad, but I have another piece of news to acquaint you with. Mr. Pavilliard has already hinted it in the letter you have, I suppose, already received, and which I have translated into English. Let me tell you the whole fact as it is really past.

A GAMBLING SCRAPE.

One evening I went to see Mr. Gee, one of the English now here. I found him in his room, playing at Pharaon with some other gentlemen. I would have retired, but he desiring me to stay, I took a chair and sat down by the fire. I continued to look at the gamesters about half an hour, till one of them going away, Gee desired me to take his place, and I refused; but on his assuring me that I might punt as low as I would, at last complied, and soon lost about half a guinea; this vexed me, and I continued upon my word. The play warmed, and about three o'clock the next morning I found I had lost only forty guineas. Guess my situation (which I did not dare communicate to any one); such a loss, and an utter impossibility of paying it. I took the worst party I could. I demanded my revenge; they gave it me, and the second meeting was still worse than the first. It cost me 1760 francs, or 110 guineas.

Never have I felt a despair equal to that I had then. I was a great while hesitating upon the most violent parties. At last I resolved to go seek my money in England, not doubting to be able to raise that sum at London. I had not forgot that step would expose me to all the indignation of my father, but I shut my eyes on all those considerations, to reflect that it was my only resource to pay my debt and to disengage my word; in pursuance of this, I bought a horse, a watch, and some other things of Mr. Gee himself, payable with the rest in England, and set out proposing to sell those things to carry me on my journey. Was successful as far as Geneva, but there the difficulty I found to dispose of my horse having stopped me some days, Pavilliard, who had perceived my evasion, ran after me, and half entreaties, half force, brought me back to Lausanne with him.

I am there at present, not knowing what to do; the term given me almost out, and my creditors extremely pressing. What party can I take? Should I acquaint my father with it? What first-fruits of a conversion should I give him? I have then no other resource than you. Tell me not you are poor, that you have not enough for yourself. I do not address myself to you as the richest, but as the kindest of my relations; nor do I ask it you as a gift, but as a loan. If you could not furnish me the whole sum, let me have at least a part of it. I know you have thoughts of doing something for me by your will; I beg you only to anticipate it. I shall make no use of any other prayers than this plain recite of my situation; if it produces no effect on you, nothing else would. Remember only that my term finished March 15. I tremble for your answer, but beg it may be speedy. I am too much agitated to go on. I will tell you something of myself in my next, i.e. very soon.

I am, dear Kitty,
Your unfortunate nephew,
E. Gibbon.

P.S.—I have enclosed a carte blanche—write there a promise for what you send me; it may serve you with my father in case of my death.

P.S.—You may inquire for Grand and Wombwell, bankers, who will give you bills upon Mr. Grand, banker, at Lausanne for as much as you will.

3.

To his Father.

March 1st, 1755.

Dear Sir,

VOLTAIRE AT GENEVA.

As Mr. Pavilliard writes to you at present, I will not let slip the occasion of sending my letter by the same post. Give me leave, sir, to demand of you, once more, and to demand of you with the last earnestness, the return of your paternal tenderness, which I have forfeited by the unhappy step I have made. I hope to merit that return by my behaviour. Give me leave, too, to repeat my former demands of some masters, as for the manége for fencing and for dancing. With regard to the last, I own that Mr. Pavilliard, overcome by importunities, and imagining you would not disapprove of it, gave me leave to take it about three months ago, and I actually learn. My health still continues good, and I continue my studies in the same manner I have already described to you. The only news I have to tell you is that the famous Mr. de Voltaire[4] is come to spend, as he says, the rest of his days here. He has bought an estate near Geneva, where he proposes to spend the summer, and to pass the winter at a country house he has hired near Lausanne.

Give me now leave, dear Sir, to finish, repeating the demand of your former affection. If I could hope to hear from you I should think myself completely happy.

I am, dear Sir,
Your most obedient and most dutiful son,
E. Gibbon.

4.

To Miss Catherine Porten.

September 20th, 1755.

Dear Madam,

In compliance with your request, I answer the very day I have received it. I own you had vexed me; not so much in refusing me the money I asked you, as by revealing the thing to my father. But what is done cannot be undone, and as my father has forgiven me, I think I may do as much for you. I consent, then, to the renewal of our correspondence with all my heart. I shall begin by the tail of your letter. My whole debt was not with Gee; a great part was with a person of this town, who has heard reason easily enough. He has consented to receive a note by which I own the debt, and promise to pay him when I can. Gee has not been so easy. After having obliged him to take back the watch and the mare, the debt was still at fifty guineas. I bought him for twenty another watch, paying (as I do still) two guineas a month to the watchmaker, and which Mons. Pavilliard and I contrive to retrench out of my other expenses. Gee left us about four months ago. Have you a mind to know his destiny? Yes. Hear it, then. His parents had ordered him forty guineas for his journey, but as they had allowed him to stay a fortnight at Paris, he was to take twenty more in that place. Gee quits Lausanne in this manner. Suppose him at Lyons. He goes immediately to the correspondent of his banker, for whom he had a letter of recommendation. "Sir," says he, in accosting him, "I have a letter for you from your correspondent, Mons. Grand of Lausanne. You will find in it that he desires you to pay me twenty-five guineas at sight." The banker puts on his spectacles, reads the letter, but finds nothing in it about money. Upon which he tells Gee that certainly there is some mistake, and he cannot give him a farthing before it is cleared up. Gee replies that he must be at Paris a certain day, and that without money he cannot go. In a word, for I hate long stories, the banker gives him the money, but writes to his correspondent at Paris to stop Gee's twenty guineas. He, having some wind of the affair, runs post, day and night, arrives at Paris four hours before the letter, and draws the money. Gee's adventures at Paris would take up a volume, as he played a great deal. Once he had a hundred and fifty thousand livres, French money, in his pocket (£6700), but a week after he was 1500 guineas in debt, thanks to the famous Mr. Taff[5] and some others of much the same stamp. The end was that his mother, though extremely poor, paid all his debts, and sent him into England, where he is now, having lost his commission, having hardly any other resource than his Majesty's highway. So much for Gee.

HIS FATHER'S SECOND MARRIAGE

A tear to poor Nell; she really deserves it. Am glad Nemmy is well married. Would write to my aunt Hester,[6] but know not what to say to her. You tell me Snell and Milton are gone; where? Compliments to Bett Gilbert and to the Darrels[7] since you are at Richmond. I hurry over; but, à propos, who directed your letter, for it is not your hand? I hurry over all these things to come to my father's marriage.

About a fortnight ago I received a vastly kind letter from my father of the 18th of August (inquire the day of his marriage). He forgave me in it all my past faults, promised never to speak of them again to me, provided only I kept the promises I had made him about my future behaviour; allows me to make a little tour about Switzerland, which I had asked him, and tells me that, after having completed my studies and my exercises, he would make me make that of France and Italy. But not a syllable about his marriage.[8] Three days after I heard of it by the canal of a certain Mr. Hugonin, whose father is our neighbour in Hampshire, but without any particularities either of name or anything else. Guess my surprise; you know he had always protested that he never would marry again—at least, had he done it in the time he was angry with me, I should have been less struck; but now what can he mean by it? What frightens me most is what I remember you told me; if my father married again, by my grandfather's will the estate went to the children of the second bed, and that I had only 200 a year, provided the second wife had more fortune than my mother, who had only £1500. You may easily guess the anxiety that has put me in. I have wrote to a friend in England, who I think I can trust to get me a copy of that will out of Doctors' Commons; but though sure of his discretion, I do not know whether he will care to serve me. Could you not do it YOURSELF? and inquire whether my father has not taken care of me by his marriage contract.

You say that Mrs. Gibbon (Miss Patton) has set my father against the Mallets.[9] I do not know if 'tis so very good a sign. Since she was intimate with him when I was under Ward's[10] hands, I should think you must have heard something of her. Do make some inquiries about her and send them me. I wonder what will become of my poor cousin. She will be sold at last. Since they are in France, and that the war is going to break out, what if they should come to Lausanne?

YOUNG TRAVELLERS.

*Now for myself. As my father has given me leave to make a journey round Switzerland, we set out to-morrow. Buy a map of Switzerland, 'twill cost you but a shilling, and follow me. I go by Iverdun, Neufchâtel, Bienne or Biel, Soleure or Solothurn, Bâle or Basil, Bade, Zurich, Lucerne, and Bern. The voyage will be of about four weeks; so that I hope to find a letter from you waiting for me. As my father had given me leave to learn what I had a mind, I have learned to ride, and learn actually to dance and draw. Besides that, I often give ten or twelve hours a day to my studies. I find a great many agreeable people here; see them sometimes, and can say upon the whole, without vanity, that, tho' I am the Englishman here who spends the least money, I am he who is the most generally liked. I told you that my father had promised to send me into France and Italy. I have thanked him for it. But if he would follow my plan, he won't do it yet a while. I never liked young travellers; they go too raw to make any great remarks, and they lose a time which is (in my opinion) the most precious part of a man's life. My scheme would be, to spend this winter at Lausanne—for tho' 'tis a very good place to acquire the air of good company and the French tongue, we have no good professors—to spend (I say) the winter at Lausanne; go into England to see my friends a couple of months, and after that, finish my studies, either at Cambridge (for after what's past one cannot think of Oxford), or at a university in Holland. If you liked the scheme, could you propose it to my father by Metcalf, or somebody else who has a certain credit over him? I forgot to ask you whether, in case my father writes to tell me his marriage, would you advise me to compliment my mother-in-law? I think so. My health is so very regular that I have nothing to say about it.

I have been the whole day writing you this letter; the preparations for our voyage gave me a thousand interruptions. Besides that, I was obliged to write in English. This last reason will seem a parradox, but I assure you the French is much more familiar to me.* À propos, do you know anything of my Lord Newnham?[11] I heard he was in Germany.

I am, dear Kitty,
Your affectionate nephew
(Not your grave, obedient, humble servant),
E. Gibbon.

5.

To his Father.

10 juin 1756.

Mon très cher Père,

Je reçus hier votre lettre avec beaucoup de plaisir, mais qui ne fut pas tout-à-fait sans mélange d'Inquietude. Je craignois vous avoir encore offensé par quelque nouvelle faute. Vous savez combien une affection vive et sincère prend facilement l'allarme aux plus grandes minucies. Je fus frappé en ouvrant votre lettre de voir votre style ordinaire de Dear Edward changé en un froid Monsieur. Il est vrai que la suite me rassura; j'y voyois un Père tendre qui vouloit bien entrer dans mes peines, les soulager, et me delivrer de toutes mes craintes, en m'assurant que, si je me conduisois toujours d'une façon conforme à mon devoir, le nouvel engagement qu'il avoit pris ne me porteroit aucune prejudice. J'espère que je me connois assez à présent pour pouvoir regarder cette condition comme une promesse absolue. En effet si je m'en écartois, avec quels yeux pourrois-je me regarder moi-même après m'être coupable d'une aussi noire ingratitude pour tant de bonté? Ce trait dont vous me faites part au sujet de votre nouvelle épouse, me la fait déjà aimer d'avance. Je n'aurai pas beaucoup de peine à considérer comme ma mère celle qui, ne pouvant pas me donner la vie, me l'a au moins rendu. J'aurai l'honneur de lui en faire mes très humbles remerciemens, et de l'assurer des vœux qui je fais pour son bonheur. Pour vous, mon très cher Père, je puis vous protester dans la sincerité de mon cœur que tous ceux que je fais à votre sujet ont pour unique but votre felicité mutuelle. Puissiez-vous gouter tous les agreémens d'une Union fondée sur l'amour et l'estime, et puisse je vous réiterer ces mêmes souhaits pendant une longue suite d'années.

Vous me demandez compte de mes études et de mes exercises. Pour vous en rendre il faut nécessairement que j'entre dans un certain détail. Vos questions la-dessus peuvent se rapporter: 1. à mon François. Je sais qu'il s'en faut de beaucoup que je ne possède cette langue aussi bien que je pourrois le faire. Mais j'ose dire pourtant, sans craindre d'en être démenti par Monsieur Pavilliard, que je la sais mieux que la plupart des Anglois que j'ai vu à Lausanne. 2. Mes Langues mortes. Vous savez mieux que personne ma faiblesse par rapport au Latin lorsque j'ai quitté l'Angleterre. Il n'y avoit alors point d'auteur que je pusse lire avec facilité ni par conséquent avec plaisir. A present il n'y en aucun que je ne lise coulamment. J'en ai lu plusieurs depuis quelque peu de tems, tels que la plus grande partie des ouvrages de Ciceron, Virgile, Saluste, les Epitres de Pline deux fois, les comédies de Terence autant, Velleius Patercule, et je me propose de les lire tous avec le tems. Pour ce qui est du Grec comme je n'ai commencé à l'aprendre que depuis un mois, ou six semaines, vous sentez bien que j'en suis encore aux Premiers Principes. 3. Ma Philosophie. J'ai achevé la Logique de Monsieur de Crousaz laquelle est fort estimée dans ce pays-ci, en partie avec Monsieur Pavilliard et en parti dans mon Particulier. Je vais lire pour la seconde fois L'Etendement Humain, et, aussitôt que je l'aurai fini, je commencerai l'Algèbre que vous me recommandez tant. 4. Ma Danse et mon Dessein. Je crois que vous ne serez pas mécontent de mes progrés dans la dernière de ces choses. Pour ce de la première je fais tout ce que je puis. Monsieur Pavilliard me rendra la justice de dire je ne suis pas fort dissipé. Je ne sors pas beaucoup et alors même ce n'est que pour aller dans les compagnies de la ville.

HIS STUDIES.

Je suis bien faché, mon très cher Père, de voir que ces malheureux mots de Mons. Hugonin, lachés et rapportés si mal à propos, ne sont pas encore effacés de votre esprit. Je vous en demande sincèrement excuse, et je vous prie de les oublier totalement. Pour ce qui est de mon ...[12] que j'avois parlé à ma Tante, je voudrois n'en avoir jamais parlé puisqu'il vous déplait. J'avoue pourtant que l'ayant mûrement reconsideré je n'y ai point pu decouvrir l'Incongruité dont vous me parlez. Comme ma Tante vous a montré mes lettres je ne repeterai point ce que j'y ai dit. Je remarquerai seulement qui ce même Locke dont vous me conseilliez tant la Lecture, pense tout comme moi au sujet des voyages prematures.

J'ai, l'honneur d'être,
Mon très cher Père,
Avec un profond respect et une affection sincère,
Votre très humble et très obéissant serviteur et fils,
E. Gibbon.

P.S.—Si j'osois je prierois de m'envoyer par un des voituriers qui vont si souvent de Londres en Suisse, la Bibliothèque Oriental d'Herbellot qui est parmi mes Livres.

6.

To his Father.

4 juin 1757.

Mon très cher Père,

Je me hate de vous assurer encore une fois de mes sentimens. Je ne crois pas qu'ils vous soient inconnus, mais je me plais à les repeter; heureux si les expressions de mon cœur ne vous deplaisent pas.

Quand pourrois-j'esperer de vous les temoigner, ces sentimens en Angleterre? Quatre ans se sont déjà ecoulés depuis qu'un arret de votre part m'a fixé dans ce pays. Ils m'ont paru autant de siècles. Ce n'est pas que je me plaigne du pays même ni de ses habitans. Je leur ai des obligations essentielles. Je dois au séjour que j'y ai fait mon gout pour la culture de mon esprit, et les progrès quelqu'ils soient que j'ai fait dans quelques genres d'études. Je me suis même acquis un petit nombre d'amis qui meritent mon estime, et dont le souvenir me sera toujours cher. Mais ces amis que sont-ils au prix d'un père à qui je dois tout, d'une mère qui a autant de droit sur ma reconnoissance que sur mon respect, d'une Tante que j'aimai dès que je la connus, et qui je connus aussitôt que moi-même? Je ne repasserai pas toutes les raisons dont je me suis déjà servi, pour faire voir que, quelques soient vos intentions, un plus long séjour à Lausanne ne me peut être que nuisible. Je vous les ai proposé, c'est à vous à les peser. Mais permettez-moi, mon très cher Père, de vous prier de refléchir serieusement quel effet le différent emploi de mes plus belles années peut avoir sur le reste de ma vie. Je ne fais point entrer en ligne de compte mon propre agrément, c'est un objet trop leger pour être mis à coté de ceux-ci. Au moins, quelques soient vous resolutions, ne m'accablez pas par le silence. Que je les apprenne de vous, ce sera toujours pour moi une sorte de consolation.

Mais si des raisons que je n'ai gardé de blamer vous engagent á me laisser plus longtems dans ce pays; adoucissez au moins ma situation. Je vous ai souvent demandé la liberté de prendre un Domestique. Je vous le demande encore comme le douceur qui me seroit le plus sensible. Comme je sais, mon cher Père, que vous n'aimez pas beaucoup à écrire des lettres, si après six semaines ou deux mois, je regarderai votre silence comme un consentement.

Je n'ai rien de nouveau à vous dire sur ma santé ni sur mes études. Celle-la est passable; je fais tout ce je puis pour qu'on puisse dire quelque chose de plus de celles-ci.

Assurez ma chère mère (c'est avec bien du plaisir que je lui donne ce titre) de tous les sentimens que ce nom sacré emporte avec lui. J'ai l'honneur d'être, mon très cher Père, avec le plus profond respect et le plus tendre devouement

Mon très cher Père,
Votre très humble et très obeissant Serviteur et fils,
E. Gibbon.

7.

To his Father.

Lausanne, 26 Octobre, 1757.

Mon très cher Père,

HIS FATHER'S SILENCE.

Dois-je me flatter que vous m'aimiez encore? Si j'en croyois mes propres sentimens, je me dirais sur le champ que j'aime mon père avec une tendresse si vive et si vraie qu'il est impossible que je ne sois pas payé de retour. Si j'ai bien entendu ses paroles, ajoutais-je à moi-même. Ce père, ci-devant si rempli de bonté, m'a daigné assurer que tout étoit oublié et qu'il me rendoit son ancienne affection. Je ne dois donc plus en douter. Il m'aime, je suis heureux. Cependant d'un autre coté mille Idées facheuses s'offroient en foule à mon esprit. Je lui ai écrit plusieurs fois, je lui ai demandé des graces que je croyois raisonnables, et que j'esperois d'obtenir. Il se tait cependant. Un silence si cruel m'afflige, m'épouvante, me fait envisager le plus grand des malheurs: la perte de son amitié. Ne croyez pas, mon très cher Père, qu'il entre le moindre réproche dans ces plaintes, le respectueux attachement que j'aurai pour vous m'en interdit jusqu'à l'apparence. Vous avez sans doute vos raisons, et quand même elles me paroitroient pas tout à fait suffisantes, mon devoir, et, plus encore, mon cœur feroient taire ma faible raison et vous assureroient d'une obeissance libre de tout murmure.

Lorsque vous me permettez, il y a deux ans, de faire le tour de la Suisse, de peur de faire une depense trop forte, nous laissâmes Genève pour une autre fois. Je viens de faire ce petit voyage actuellement. J'y ai passé trois ou quatre semaines que j'ai taché de mettre à profit. Ma depense pendant ce tems là est allée à seize Louis neufs. J'espère, mon très cher Père, que vous ne la désapprouverez pas. Je ne l'aurois pas fait sans prèalablement demander votre permission, mais le tems pressoit. Une troupe de Comédiens François étoient à Genève en passant. Il étoit bien naturel de saisir une occasion de prendre quelque Idée du Théâtre François, et cette occasion (vu la Guerre) ètoit presque unique. De retour à Lausanne, j'ai repris mes anciennes occupations avec une ardeur nouvelle. Assurez, s'il vous plait, madame votre epouse de mon sincère Attachement, et faites moi la justice de me croire avec une tendresse et un respect sans bornes

Mon très cher Père,
Votre très Humble et très obeissant Serviteur,
E. Gibbon.

8.

To his Father.

Lausanne, March 29th, 1758.

Dear Sir,

It is with the greatest pleasure that I see the time approach in which I may hope to enjoy what I have so long desired, your presence and the view of my native country. With regard to the road, the war[13] renders all roads almost impracticable. However, after having consulted the persons most used to travelling, they all agree that that of France will be the least dangerous. I shall pass for a Swiss Officer in Holland. I shall have Dutch Regimentals, and a passeport from the Canton of Berne. I am pretty sure that my Tongue won't betray me. I think of setting out the 8th or 10th of next month, and if I stay a few days in Holland to look a little about me, I may be in London the 2nd or 3rd of May, where I hope to meet you. I return you beforehand my most hearty thanks for your condescendance in concurring with my impatience. Tho' you think I shall not relish Beriton, I can assure you that the prospect of passing the summer in yours & Mrs. Gibbon's compagny, dividing my time between successive study, exercise, and ease, is the most agreable one I can conceive. I shall punctually follow your directions about money, and shall not abuse of the confidence you have in me. Be so good as to assure Mrs. Gibbon of all the sentiments Esteem and duty can inspire. As I run post I cannot bring her the Arquebuzade Water myself, but I shall remit to a waggoner, who will be at London almost as soon as I, several bottles of the very best I can find.

I am, Dear Sir, with the greatest respect and the truest affection,

Your most obedient humble Servant and Son,
E. Gibbon.

9.

To his Father.

The Hague, April the 29th, 1758.

Dear Sir,

HIS RETURN TO ENGLAND

After a journey pretty tiresome, but in whitch I have not run the least risk, I am arrived safe at the Hague. Holland is certainly a country well worth the curiosity of a stranger, but as I have not the time to examine it as it deserves, I choose rather to put off that pleasure, than to enjoy it imperfectly. Perhaps my desire to see you soon deceives me, perhaps that desire is the only true source of my great haste. However it be, I intend to embark at Helvetsluys next Wednesday, and if the wind is good I may be in London Saturday or Sunday, where I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you and Mrs. Gibbon.

I am, Dear Sir,
Your most obedient humble Servant and Son,
E. Gibbon.

10.

To his Aunt, Miss Hester Gibbon.

Beriton, July the 20th, 1758.

Dear Madam,

Tho' the public voice had long since accustomed me to think myself honoured in calling Mrs. Gibbon my aunt, yet I never enjoyed the happiness of living near her, and of instructing myself not less by her example than by her precepts. Your piety, Madam, has engaged you to prefer a retreat to the world. Errors, justifiable only in their principle, forced my father to give me a foreign education. Fully disabused of the unhappy ideas I had taken up, and at last restored to myself, I am happy in the affection of the tenderest of fathers. May I not hope, Madam, to see my felicity compleat by the acquisition of your esteem and friendship? Duty and Inclination engage me equally to solicit them, all my endeavours shall tend to deserve them, and, with Mrs. Gibbon, I know that to deserve is to obtain. I have now been in England about two months, and should have acquitted myself much sooner of my duty, but frequent journeys to London scarce left me a moment to myself, and since a very ugly fever my father has had, engrossed all my thoughts. He is now entirely recovered, and desires his love and service to you, Madam, as well as to Mr. Law.

I am, Dear Madam,
With the sincerest esteem and most profound respect,
Your most obedient humble servant and dutiful nephew,
E. Gibbon, Junior.

11.

To his Father.

London, October the 24th, 1758.

Dear Sir,

The Chevalier and myself, after a pretty tedious journey, which his conversation did not render less so, arrived in town Sunday evening. We have got our old lodgings in Charles Street. Hugonin arrived a few minutes afterwards, tired of the country, and he seems to be now tired of the town. I have not yet got the lottery tickets. I shall certainly buy yours, but my forgetfulness of leaving money in my bureau may perhaps hinder me from buying my own myself. We have no great news in town, but that, one day, Sir George Elkin, a man of family and fortune, has married Miss Roach, a woman of the town. Everybody pities him. He is but eighteen: unluckily they were married in Scotland. She stayed five days with him, the sixth she ran away and came up to London. I beg you would assure Mrs. Gibbon of my respects. I hope to see you the latter end of the week.

I am, Dear Sir,
With the greatest respect,
Your most obedient servant and dutiful son,
E. Gibbon.

12.

To his Stepmother.

November, 1758.

Dear Madam,

A VISIT TO LONDON

I arrived in town between four and five o'clock safe and well, though almost frozen.—Turton[14] was not to be found, but I will endeavour to see him to-morrow; though I believe that change of air and scene will be of greater benefit to me, than any prescriptions he can order me.—I write from Mrs. Porten's,[15] who begs to be remembered to you in the kindest terms. She is totally ignorant of forms, but will see Mrs. Darrel to-morrow morning and endeavour to settle everything. Let me entreat you, my dearest Mrs. Gibbon, to try to divert thoughts, which cannot be suppressed, and believe me that I can only be easy as I have reason to think that you are so.

I am, Dear Madam,
Most truly yours,
E. G.

Dean's Yard. Tuesday Evening. Nine o'clock.

My sincerest compliments wait on Mr. and Mrs. Bayley. I wish they would recollect anything in which I could be useful to them in town.

13.

To his Father.

New Bond St., December the 14th, 1758.

Dear Sir,

I must begin by the most disagreeable news I have to tell you. All our tickets have come up blanks.[16] All our visionary plans of grandeur are disappointed, the dream of those who have had the ten thousand pounds will last a little, but perhaps, not much longer.

I am settled at last in a very good lodging; I say at last because I lived a day and a half at Mrs. Porten's in the middle of hurry and noise and meazels. My aunt desires her compliments to you and Mrs. Gibbon. We eat the levret together. Pray did you not send her a hare some time ago? I know not what happened, but she never received it. I saw at her house Dr. Maty's son,[17] a little odd cur, and by an unexampled generosity I tipped the boy with a crown and the father with a coal of fire. Last night I was at the King's Scholars play, and, proper allowances being made, was very well entertained. All spoke justly enough and some (one or two) promised a good deal. Harry Courtenay was one of these, but he disappointed me before the end of the play. He came on with ease and entered well into his character (an old man in the Phormio), got safe over the dreadful first scene. From thence he sunk gradually tho' encouraged by repeated claps, dragged himself through the last scenes in the most dead and lifeless manner. My expectations were deceived more than they ever were in my whole life. I am just come from Madame Cilesia's.[18] She received me in a dirty white linnen gown, no rufles; in a word, a negligé qui n'alloit pas le mieux du monde, à sa Majesté Corse. She received me, however, like an old fellow-sufferer. Not that we talked at all of the M.....s, tho' on the brink of it several times, but neither of us broke the ice. I do not think her pretty, something sweet enough in her face, mais enfin voilà tout. I am to dine there to-morrow. To-day I dine in state at home, and after dinner shall go to Cleone,[19] though generally disliked.

I lodge in New Bond Street at a linnen draper's, a Mr. Steward, and I have a very good first floor, dining-room, bed-chamber and light closet with many conveniences for a guinea and half a week. I believe I shall keep to it. Lee is very serviceable to me, he has got me a very handsome chair for twenty-seven shillings.

I beg you would present my best compliments and true respects to Mrs. Gibbon.

I am, Dear Sir,
With the greatest regard,
Your most faithful, humble servant and son,
E. Gibbon, Junior.

P.S.—I have not yet been able to do your commissions.

14.

To his Stepmother.

London, December, 1758.

Dear Madam,

How many thanks have I to return you! I shall wait upon Sir William Milner[20] as soon as he is in town, and do not doubt of liking that family, at least the lady: to say she is your friend is a sufficient enconium.

WANT OF MONEY

But, Madam, I am really concerned my father has not sent me a draught. I am really distressed for money. I have hardly a guinea left, and you know the unavoidable expences of London. I have tryed to borrow of Mrs. Porten and of Harvey, my father's lawyer. But without success. Could not you send me a bank-note by the Hastings Post of Monday? I would run all the risks of its being lost; for upon my word I shall hardly know what to do in three or four days.

Will you admit my excuse? I am just going to see Garrick, alias Sir John Brute.[21] It will be a vilaine bête.

I am, Dear Madam,
Yours most sincerely,
E. Gibbon.

P.S.—The author of Eurydice[22] (who greeted me at the Smyrna Coffee-house) asked much after you and my father. What can you mean about Miss Allen?

15.

To his Father.

London, December the 21st, 1758.

Dear Sir,

I am afraid you will be angry at seeing a letter instead of me, but indeed I knew not how disagreeable it was, travelling in this season. I am besides invited to Mrs. Wray's and Mr. Darrel's for next Monday and Wednesday. Do you think these reasons sufficient? (I beg you would tell it me freely.) If you do not I will endeavour to come down the latter end of next week; as I suppose my being there Christmas Day is of no consequence.

I have seen Dr. Maty. La La. He made little or no excuse for having deferred writing, but has already criticised it with sense and severity. He finds it as I hoped; good, in general, but many faults in the detail.[23]

I have dined once with M. Cilesia, with whom I am extremely pleased; he has wit and learning, and speaks French like a Parisian. But pray have you heard the shocking pretensions of Mlle. de Vaucluse? A prior marriage with him, or at least a promise of Marriage with a vast forfeiture. I do not know the particulars, but she pushes the affair vigorously at Genoa, and disperses a Memoire, which I hope to see. If she is not an Imposture, how criminal it makes the husband and how unhappy the wife.

I believe it is needless to assure Mrs. Gibbon of my sincerest love and regard. Pray tell her Sir W. Milner is in town. I shall execute all her and your commissions.

I am, Dear Sir,
With the greatest regard,
Your most obedient and affectionate servant and son,
E. Gibbon.

16.

To his Father.

New Bond Street, December the 30th, 1758.

Dear Sir,

HIS FIRST LITERARY VENTURE

Your illness really alarmed me. To be taken in so sudden and violent a manner. If you had not assured me that you was so much better, I would have set out immediately for Beriton. I hope you have had some advice better than Harvey's. I hope too that Mrs. Gibbon tries to hinder you from going out in the cold. I say tries, because I know that with regard to going out you are a most ungovernable patient.

At last Maty and I have downright quarrelled. He behaved so very contemptuously to me. Never made the least excuse for having eked out two weeks into two months, left two letters I wrote him since, without any answers, never came near me, that at last I desired him to send back my manuscript. He did so. I then wrote him a letter to explain my behaviour. He answered it by another politely bitter. So tout est fini!

I return you, Dear Sir, my sincerest thanks for telling me of my faults. I shall always consider it the truest proof of your affection for me. I hope you do not impute my not writing to Mrs. Gibbon to the least want of regard for her. I should be the most ungrateful of men, if I did not love and respect her like my own mother. But I really thought that in a union like yours, writing to one was writing to both. However, dear Sir, it is enough that you think it an omission, for me to repair it by the very next post.

I endeavour to see no company in town but such as you yourself would approve of. Mrs. Cilesia's and Mrs. Hayes's are the two houses I frequent the most. The former has promised to introduce me to Lady Harvey's[24] Assembly, where ('tis true though wonderful) there is no card-playing, but very good company and very good conversation. I am also to meet at Mrs. Cilesia's the great David Hume. I shall seek his acquaintance without being discouraged by Maty.

I have answered Bordot's letter. He desires a present relief, a quick release, and a good place in England. The first alone is in my power. I beg you would give him Five Guineas and deduct it upon the Christmas quarter of my Allowance. I do not doubt but you will do something for him, as I really think his situation deserves pity. This cessation of the prisoner's allowance shows, I think, better than fifty monitors to how low an ebb the French are reduced. I cannot help pitying them too. I do not think it necessary to have no compassion, in order to be a good Englishman. My unfashionable politicks are that a war can hardly be a good one, and a peace hardly a bad one. My sincerest love and regard wait upon Mrs. Gibbon.

I am, Dear Sir,
With the highest regard and best wishes for your health
Your most affectionate son and humble servant,
(E.) Gibbon.

P.S.—The Barometer was broke on the road. You will lay it upon me. I lay it upon François, and François upon Henry who packed up the things. Shall I buy another? Numbers 15553, 15554 Blanks.

17.

To his Father.

1760.

Dear Sir,

*An address in writing, from a person who has the pleasure of being with you every day, may appear singular. However, I have preferred this method, as upon paper I can speak without a blush, and be heard without interruption. If my letter displeases you, impute it, Dear Sir, only to yourself. You have treated me not like a son, but like a friend. Can you be surprized that I should communicate to a friend all my thoughts, and all my desires? Unless the friend approve them, let the father never know them; or, at least, let him know at the same time, that however reasonable, however eligible, my scheme may appear to me, I would rather forget it for ever, than cause him the slightest uneasiness.

UNFITNESS FOR POLITICAL LIFE.

When I first returned to England, attentive to my future interest, you were so good as to give me hopes of a seat in Parliament. This seat, according to the Custom of our venal country, was to be bought, and fifteen hundred pounds were mentioned as the price of the purchase. This design flattered my vanity, as it might enable me to shine in so august an assembly. It flattered a nobler passion; I promised myself that by the means of this seat I might be one day the instrument of some good to my country. But I soon perceived how little a mere virtuous inclination, unasisted by talents, could contribute towards that great end; and a very short examination discovered to me, that those talents were not fallen to my lot. Do not, Dear Sir, impute this declaration to a false modesty, the meanest species of pride. Whatever else I may be ignorant of, I think I know myself, and shall always endeavour to mention my good qualities without vanity, and my defects without repugnance. I shall say nothing of the most intimate acquaintance with his country and language, so absolutely necessary to every Senator. Since they may be acquired, to alledge my deficiency in them, would seem only the plea of laziness. But I shall say with great truth, that I never possessed that gift of speach, the first requisite of an Orator, which use and labour may improve, but which nature can alone bestow. That my temper, quiet, retired, somewhat reserved, could neither acquire popularity, bear up against opposition, nor mix with ease in the crowds of public life. That even my genius (if you will allow me any) is better qualified for the deliberate compositions of the Closet, than for the extemporary discourses of the Parliament. An unexpected objection would disconcert me; and as I am incapable of explaining to others what I do not thoroughly understand myself, I should be meditating, while I ought to be answering. I even want necessary prejudices of party, and of nation. In popular assemblies, it is often necessary to inspire them; and never Orator inspired well a passion, which he did not feel himself. Suppose me even mistaken in my own Character; to set out with the repugnance such an opinion must produce, offers but an indifferent prospect. But I hear you say It is not necessary that every man should enter into Parliament with such exalted hopes. It is to acquire a title the most glorious of any in a free country, and to employ the weight and consideration It gives in the service of one's friends. Such motifs, tho' not glorious, yet are not dishonourable; and if we had a borough in our command, if you could bring me in without any great expence, or if our fortune enabled us to dispise that expence, then indeed I should think them of the greatest strength. But with our private fortune is it worth while to purchase at so high a rate, a title, honourable in itself, but which I must share with every fellow that can lay out Fifteen hundred pounds? Besides, Dear Sir, a merchandize is of little value to the owner, when he is resolved not to sell it.

I should affront your penetration, did I not suppose you now see the drift of this letter. It is to appropriate to another use the sum you destined to bring me into Parliament; to employ it, not in making me great, but in rendering me happy. I have often heard you say yourself, that the allowance you had been so indulgent as to grant me, tho' very liberal in regard to your estate, was yet but small, when compared with the almost necessary extravagances of the age. I have indeed found it so, notwithstanding a good deal of œconomy, and an exemption from many of the common expences of youth. This, Dear Sir, would be a way of supplying these deficiencies, without any additional expence to you.—But I forbear.—If you think my proposals reasonable, you want no entreaties to engage you to comply with them; if otherwise, all will be without effect.

All that I am afraid of, Dear Sir, is, that I should seem not so much asking a favour, as this really is, as exacting a debt. After all I can say, you will still remain the best judge of my good, and your own circumstances. Perhaps, like most Landed Gentlemen, an addition to my annuity would suit you better than a sum of money given at once. Perhaps the sum itself may be too considerable. Whatever you shall think proper to bestow upon me, or in whatever manner, will be received with equal gratitude.

I intended to stop here; but as I abhor the least appearance of art, I think it will be better to lay open my whole scheme at once. The unhappy War which now desolates Europe, will oblige me to defer seeing France till a peace. But that reason can have no influence upon Italy, a country which every Scholar must long to see; should you grant my request, and not disaprove of my manner of employing your bounty, I would leave England this autumn, and pass the winter at Lausanne, with M. de Voltaire and my old friends. The armies no longer obstruct my passage, and it must be indifferent to you, whether I am at Lausanne or at London during the winter, since I shall not be at Beriton. In the spring I would cross the Alps, and after some stay in Italy, as the war must then be terminated, return home thro' France, to live happily with you and my dear Mother. I am now two or three and twenty; a tour must take up a considerable time, and tho' I believe you have no thoughts of settling me soon, (and I am sure I have not) yet so many things may intervene, that the man who does not travel early, runs a great risk of not travelling at all. But this part of my scheme, as well as the whole, I submit entirely to you.

Permit me, Dear Sir, to add, that I do not know whether the compleat compliance with my wishes could encrease my love and gratitude; but that I am very sure, no refusal could minish those sentiments with which I shall always remain, Dear Sir, your most dutiful and obedient son and servant,*

E. Gibbon, Junior.

18.

To his Stepmother.

Winchester Camp,[25] Monday Morning,
[in pencil] '61?

Dear Madam,

A CAPTAIN OF MILITIA.

I have got four dozen of Franks for you from Sir Gerard Napier, which I shall send you by return of the waggon. In return I must beg the favor of a book. It is Greek, but don't be frightened; you may easily find it. It is a short but very thick folio, bound in parchment, the title on the back in large letters, either Strabo, or Strabonis Geographia, printed in two columns, one Greek, the other Latin. I am pretty sure it is upon the couch. I hope you like the Devizes; the place is good, & I think the neighbourhood to Bath no objection. I hope soon to meet you there, and am,

Dear Madam,
Yours most affectionately,
E. Gibbon, Junior.

19.

To his Stepmother.

Devizes, February the 14th, 1762.

Dear Madam,

Knowing you as I do I can easily judge of the effect my father's accident must have produced upon you. Besides, I can guess at it by the impression it made upon me, though I heard of the danger and the escape at the same time. I thank God it was no worse. I hope my father is now thoroughly recovered. I shall remember the Arquebusade this week.

Of myself and my situation at the Devizes I have little to say, and that little not very agreeable. A great deal of noise and no conversation, a great many people and no society, a most excessive familiarity and no friendship; in a word, the usual scene, only I think we are not so quarrelsome as we used to be.

I wrote to my father who by this time must have received my letter. However I must just mention to him two or three things relative to the battalion. He will see by the enclosed return, our strength and what we have done, which is nothing to what we might do had we money. The Blacks[26] now grow so numerous that I think they must drive us out of town, they desire it so strongly, & Lord Shelbourne[27] has such powerful interest. I believe Sharrock[28] will get an ensign, one Hall,[29] near this place, a very pretty lad of sixteen with a good qualification, though not in our county. He expects an answer from Durnford, who, by the bye, has not yet wrote either to Harrison[30] or me.

How does your pupil go on? I hope soon to have an account of him, as William is very clamourous for a new livery.

You say nothing of your brother. I hope he is sailed. Surely it must by this time be determined. I beg you would present my love and duty to my father, and believe me,

Dear Madam,
Most affectionately yours,
E. Gibbon, Junior.

20.

To his Father.

Boulogne, January the 25th, 1763.

Dear Sir,

FOREIGN TOUR.

*You see by the date of my letter where I am. I arrived here in company with the Duke of Bridgewater,[31] the Marquis of Tavistock,[32] Lord Ossory[33] and a Mr. Leigh, about three in the afternoon, after a tedious but pleasant passage of about nine hours. We were forced to come in here, not being able to make Calais. I have hired a chaise, & propose setting out to-morrow, but alone, as the road will not supply horses for our number. I hope to be at Paris either Thursday or Friday. Writing in the midst of noise and hurry & being just ready to go to supper, you will excuse my ending abruptly.*

I am, Dear Sir,
Yours most affectionately,
E. Gibbon.

21.

To his Stepmother.

Paris, February the 12th, 1763.

Dear Madam,

You remember our agreement; short and frequent letters. The first part of the treaty you have no doubt of my observing: I think I ought not to leave you any of the second. À propos of treaty,[34] our definitive one was signed here yesterday, and this morning the Duke of Bridgewater and Mr. Neville[35] went for London with the news of it. The plenipotentiaries sat up till ten o'Clock in the morning at the ambassador of Spain's ball, and then went to sign this treaty which regulates the fate of Europe.

PARISIAN SOCIETY.

Paris in most respects, has fully answered my expectations. I have a number of very good acquaintances which encrease every day, for nothing is so easy as the making them here. Instead of complaining of the want of them, I begin already to think of making a choice. Next Sunday for instance I have only three invitations to Dinner. Either in the houses you are already acquainted, you meet with people who ask you to come and see them, or some of your friends offer themselves to introduce you. When I speak of these connections, I mean chiefly for dinner & the evening. Suppers, as yet I am pretty much a stranger to, and I fancy shall continue so: for Paris is divided into two Species who have but little communication with each other. The one who is chiefly connected with the men of letters dine very much at home, are glad to see their friends, and pass the evenings till about nine in agreable and rational conversation. The others are the most fashionable, sup in numerous parties, and always play or rather game both before and after supper. You may easily guess which sort suits me best. Indeed, Madam, we may say what we please of the frivolity of the French, but I do assure you that in a fortnight passed at Paris I have heard more conversation worth remembering, and seen more men of letters among the people of fashion, than I had done in two or three winters in London.

Amongst my acquaintance I cannot help mentioning M. Helvetius,[36] the author of the famous book de l'Esprit. I met him at dinner at Madame Geoffrin's,[37] where he took great notice of me, made me a visit next day, & has ever since treated me not in a polite but a friendly manner. Besides being a sensible man an agreable companion, & the worthiest creature in the world He has a very pretty wife, a hundred thousand Livres a year and one of the best tables in Paris. The only thing I dislike in him is his great attachment to and admiration for Stanley,[38] whose character is indeed at Paris beyond any thing you can conceive. To the great civility of this foreigner, who was not obliged to take the least notice of me, I must just contrast the behaviour of the D. of B.[39] I could not see him (on account of his gout) till last Sunday. I was then introduced to him & presented my letter from the D[uke] of R[ichmond].[40] He received me civilly, desired I would apply to him whenever I wanted his assistance, and thus dismissed me. I have not heard of him since. Indeed I have often blushed for him, for I find his stateliness and avarice make him the joke of Paris. Instead of keeping any thing of a publick table, he hardly ever asks any body; while the Spaniard[41] gives balls every week, the magnificence of which is only exceeded by their politeness & elegance. Neville who is exactly Mr. W. Patton[42] received me very well, but seemed to laugh both at Mallet & his letter of recommendation.

I beg my duty to my father to whom I propose writing next week, and my most sincere compliments to the two Gentlemen.

I am, Dear Madam,
Most affectionately yours,
E. Gibbon, Junior, alias de Guibon.

22.

To his Stepmother.

Paris, March the 25th, 1763.

Dear Madam,

I am afraid (as dates are stubborn things) that I have been rather too lazy. As you love truth, and know me, I will not attempt an awkward apology, but shall only say, that I will endeavor such a delay shall not happen a second time. My father has more extensive priviledges, and indeed he seems to be very well acquainted with them.

FRIENDS IN PARIS

I still continue to like Paris, as well as I expected. You know that is saying a great deal. In two months I am acquainted with more, (and more agreable) people, than I knew in London in two years. Indeed the way of life is quite different. Much less play, more conversation, and instead of our immense routs, agreable societies where you know and are known by almost every body you meet. I have added several families to those I have already mentioned to you, and I find my conquests multiply every day. With regard to Mrs. M.'s son,[43] I am glad to see that for once she has not exagerated; indeed she hardly could in speaking of him. We are now very intimate, & I think I begin to know his character. It is astonishing for a young French officer of the Guards. He is as reserved, as little a man of the world, and as awkward as I can be. But he has a fine natural understanding, improved upon almost every subject, a clear unprejudiced head, and a heart which seems to be full of the noblest sentiments of honor, probity and friendship. I will not decide too hastily, but I believe and hope that I am forming a connection which will last as long as my life. We see one another very often, and in most of my visits of curiosity he generally accompagnies me. These parties are of service to us both. I improve by the communication of his remarks, and he has occasion to see twenty places which he would perhaps not have seen for the too common reason, that they were in the place he had passed all his life in. The only unlucky circumstance is, that he has no women in his family. A Wife or a sister are, you know, most usefull and convenient things to bring friends together, whereas we are both single; he in his cousin's house, I in a lodging; and in this great town, are both obliged to get our living, which prevents our meeting so often as we could wish. Madame Bontems[44] is a very good sort of a woman, agreable and sans pretensions. She seems to have conceived a real motherly attachment for me. I generally sup there three or four times a week quite in a friendly way.

I have nothing new to say of his Excellency. I have not seen him since my last letter, and but once in all. Not a single invitation either general or particular, and tho' I have made it a rule to leave my name at the door, at proper intervalls, I have never been lett in. The behavior is so very singular (especially with such a recommendation as mine) that I am sometimes tempted to think, some ill offices must have been done me. Not that I am conscious of any thing wrong or even imprudent in my behaviour. On the contrary, whenever I have heard the D.'s manner of living here blamed and laughed at, I have always thought it right to try to justify him, even against my own conscience. Indeed I am sorry, for the honor of my country to see how contemptible a figure he makes amongst our late enemies and constant rivals. My only comfort is that the National character is as much revered as his is despised. What Cromwell wished is now litterally the case. The name of Englishman inspires as great an idea at Paris as that of Roman could at Carthage, after the defeat of Hannibal. Indeed the French are almost excessive. From being very unjustly esteemed a set of pirates and Barbarians, we are now, by a more agreable injustice, looked upon as a nation of Philosophers and Patriots. I wish we would consider this opinion as an encouragement to deserve a character, which I am afraid we have not yet attained. I could add many things (some curious enough) with regard to the reigning politicks and publick affairs; but I have no occasion to say why it is much better to talk them over in your Dressing room some time hence. Perhaps I have even said too much already.

PARIS AND LONDON CONTRASTED.

With regard to Paris itself, I mean the houses and buildings, you know very well that their people of fashion are incomparably better lodged there than in London. Their vast Hotels, courts, stables, gardens, are very magnificent as well as convenient. A striking proof of the difference is the situation of our Embassador. He is full as well if not better lodged, in the Rue St. Dominique, than in Bloomsbury Square. However, his own house is reckoned one of the very best in London, and his hired one here is, both as to size, beauty and price, far inferior to a great many, even of that class, at Paris. Indeed I take the article of house rent to be much higher than in London, Did you ever hear of seven and eight hundred and even a thousand pounds a year being given for a house unfurnished. There are instances of it here. But as to the middling people, even those of fashion, I like a London house better. Without a regular porter to answer at the door, our little street-doors are more convenient. A fine large court is a very agreable thing, but a dark nasty gate-way is a very disagreable one. When you get up stairs you generally meet with two rooms. If we sat as much in our bed-chambers as they do, we have as many. They have indeed besides, an ante-chamber ill fitted up, and much littered, which the servants inhabit all day, except at noon and night that it serves for an eating parlour.

I have just seen here two families, the one my father's acquaintance, the other your's. The first was Mr. Prowse, who only passed thro' Paris, in his way for Tours, to which place he was going, with all his family, for his health. I dined with him at Mr. Foley's[45] & went about with him to several places the next day. In consequence of some little civilities of that kind, he asked me to dine with him the day after. He is a very agreable sensible man, but a strange being in France. The second is your good friend Mrs. Poyntz,[46] whom I met by accident. She talked of you, whom she adores, asked me a hundred questions in a breath, told me all her own affairs, her tradesmen, her house-rent, her daughter, Lord Spencer, &c. &c. &c. &c. &c. &c., and insisted upon my calling upon her.

My love and duty to my father. I shall write to him next post and hope to hear from him sometimes. I have been obliged to draw for another hundred pounds. I do assure you I study the œconomical art.

I am, Dear Madam,
Most affectionately yours, E. G.

23.

To his Father.

Paris, April the 5th, 1763.

Dear Sir,

I received your last letter with pleasure, because every thing that comes from you gives me pleasure; but I must own it afflicted me very much, as I see there are several things in which I have had the misfortune to displease either you or some other of my friends. I must endeavour to justify myself, and I think I can easily do it upon most of those heads.

Lord Litchfield[47] is angry at my writing to him. I am sorry for it and surprized at it at the same time. I could discover many reasons why he might not serve me, none that He could be angry at my application to him, especially as that application was made with all the decency and moderation, I could put into my letter. I should with pleasure have communicated it to you, and known your sentiments, but as we imagined here that the D. of B. would go away very soon, I was afraid that delay might destroy the very small hopes I had. Indeed I thought it the less necessary as I knew already your opinion both as to the eligibility of the thing, and the propriety of an application to the Noble Lord. I own the giving him no direction was not a happy specimen of my Secretarial acuracy.

As to my friends, Mallets, Worsleys,[48] Portens, &c. &c. &c. &c., I must plead guilty, very guilty indeed to the indictment. I will not take up my time and yours in vain excuses, my best and only excuse ought to be and shall be, more exactness for the future. Notwithstanding Mrs. M.'s outrageousness she is the person I trouble my head the least about. However I propose writing to her to-night tho' with great repugnance and difficulty. I neither chuse to go to the Bastille for sending her observations upon the French government, nor to fill my letter full of romantick protestations of attachment and friendship, which I do not feel for her, and which she feels for nobody. As to La Motte I cannot forgive him his complaints, when I have so much juster ones to make of him. Follow his advice I most certainly did not, since he never would give me any, tho' I asked him several times in as intelligible terms as I could properly make use of. I was forced to have recourse to my other friends, to Madame Bontems, to M. d'Augney and to M. de Mirabeau,[49] and their directions have been very usefull to me. La Motte always shewed me such a dryness, such an unwillingness to connect himself at all with me, that I have been at last obliged to drop him almost entirely.

CONDUCT OF THE DUKE OF BEDFORD.

Do you think, dear Sir, that I would have stood upon the formality of a visit with the great Duke? Besides I had no occasion to do it. He returned mine the very next day. Since that time I have presented myself at his door once every week or ten days without being ever let in or hearing a syllable from him. What can I do more than sit down quiet and wonder at his behavior?

I have enquired into Mr. Thos. Bradley's affair. Mr. Taaffe is no longer at Mr. George Woolfe's. He is in a much safer place, in the Châtelet, a prison of Paris for debt. He has settled with his English Creditors and given up his estate at Jamaica for the payment of his debts. He wants to compromise with his other Creditors who are very numerous, (but as they are convinced he wants to cheat them and that he only offers the same estate after the other debts are cleared, which cannot be in less than ten or fifteen years) they will hear of no compromise. All that Mr. Bradley could do, would be to join with those Creditors in case they should at last agree to his proposals. Mr. Taaffe's scheme is to keep another estate at Jamaica clear of his creditors. They on their side want to starve him into giving up that likewise. If Mr. Bradley thinks it worth his while to push the affair, it will be attended with some trouble and expence. He must impower somebody at Paris to act in his name, and in order to do so a journey to London will be necessary where he must find out Mr. Benjamin Bobbin an Attorney beyond the Royal Exchange, who does all that kind of business, and who will draw up a letter of attorney in French for him, and get it certified by the French ambassador; a formality absolutely necessary to give it weight in this country. As to his Attorney at Paris, the necessary delays of the Law will render it proper to have a man who is established at * * *

I cannot therefore offer myself, (which I should otherwise do with great pleasure,) and I should hope Mr. Foley would be willing as he is certainly able to undertake it. I wish I could give Mr. Bradley a better account, but this seems to be the true state of the case.

My losses at Play have not been very considerable since I have been here, they amount to seven Livres lost one night at Picquet. It is indeed rather my good luck than my prudence that saves me. All my Societies are houses where I never see a card, so that I do not fall because I have no temptation. I find Paris however very expensive. One article which, tho' it encreases my draughts at present, will diminish them hereafter is cloathes, ruffles, silk stockings, &c., which after serious deliberation, I thought I had better make a provision of at this Capital of the Fashionable world. However as I begin to have pretty well seen Paris, I propose (if you have no objection) setting out about the eighth of next month, & going thro' Dijon and Besançon to Lausanne to pass two or three quiet and cheap months with my old friends there on my way to Italy. Adieu, Dear Sir, my paper fails me and I would avoid a cover.

I am, Dear Sir,
Yours most affectionately,
E. G.

24.

To his Stepmother.

Besançon, May the 18th, 1763.

Dear Madam,

You will give me leave according to an article of our treaty, to write you only three lines, just to tell that I am well and where I am.