546.
To Lord Sheffield.
Lausanne, Sept. 9, 1789.
*Within an hour after the reception of your last, I drew my pen for the purpose of a reply, and my exordium ran in the following words: "I find by experience, that it is much more rational, as well as easy, to answer a letter of real business by the return of the post." This important truth is again verified by my own example. After writing three pages I was called away by a very rational motive, and the post departed before I could return to the conclusion. A second delay was coloured by some decent pretence: three weeks have slipped away, and I now force myself on a task, which I should have dispatched without an effort on the first summons. My only excuse is, that I had little to write about English business, and that I could write nothing definitive about my Swiss affairs. And first, as Aristotle says, of the first,
1. I was indeed in low spirits when I sent what you so justly style my dismal letter; but I do assure you, that my own feelings contributed much more to sink me, than any events or terrors relative to the sale of Buriton. But I again hope and trust, from your consolatory epistle, that* the purchasers are willing and honest, that the deeds have been produced or excused, and that on or before the reception of this despatch (alas, it will be the 23rd perhaps of September) the money has been paid. In all this I must be passive, but with regard to Mrs. Gibbon's, before it is again vested, I am sure she will be satisfied with your security, as mine on the stock which I already hold would require new powers of Attorney, and must be productive of fresh delay. But it is a whimsical circumstance in my fate, that I happen to receive the largest sum which can ever fall to my lot at the time, when money is the most plenty and consequently bears the lowest value, when good mortgages are so difficult to be found, and when the funds scarcely yield four per cent. interest. I wish Lord Stawell would take the £8000 on Buriton even at four per cent., perhaps his proud stomach may be come down. Should he still disdain it, I listen with pleasure and gratitude to the proposal of your Yorkshire mortgage on the same terms, though in general it is more advisable for friends to abstain from any pecuniary concerns with each other. If you no longer adhere to that idea, some sound good mortgage, if possible in a register county, must be found, and I would even stretch the loan to £10,000, in which case my property would be nearly divided between landed and monied security without reckoning my copper share or my poor annuity in the French funds. In the meanwhile, that the portion destined to the mortgage may not lye dead, I suppose with you that there is nothing more commodious than India-bonds. Will you consult Darrel?
LIFE-INTEREST IN DEYVERDUN'S HOUSE.
*2. My Swiss transaction has suffered a great alteration. I shall not become the proprietor of my house and garden at Lausanne, and I relinquish the fantom with more regret than you could easily imagine. But I have been determined by a difficulty, which at first appeared of little moment, but which has gradually swelled to an alarming magnitude. There is a law in this country, as well as in some provinces of France, which is styled "le droit de retrait, le retrait lignager" (Lord Loughborough must have heard of it), by which the relations of the deceased are entitled to redeem an house or estate at the price for which it has been sold; and as the sum fixed by poor Deyverdun is much below its known value, a crowd of competitors are beginning to start. The best opinions (for they are divided) are in my favour, that I am not subject to "the droit de retrait," since I take not as a purchaser, but as a legatee. But the words of the Will are somewhat ambiguous, the event of law is always uncertain, the administration of justice at Berne (the last appeal) depends too much on favour and intrigue; and it is very doubtful whether I could revert to the life-holding, after having chosen and lost the property. These considerations engaged me to open a negotiation with Mr. de Montagny, through the medium of my friend the Judge; and as he most ardently wishes to keep the house, he consented, though with some reluctance, to my proposals. Yesterday he signed a covenant in the most regular and binding form, by which he allows my power of transferring my interest, interprets in the most ample sense my right of making alterations, and expressly renounces all claim, as landlord, of visiting or inspecting the premisses. I have promised to lend him 12,000 Livres, (between seven and eight hundred pounds), secured on the house and land. The mortgage is four times its value; the interest at four per cent. will be annually discharged by the rent of thirty guineas, and I shall have an additional hold on his good behaviour. So that I am now tranquil on that score for the remainder of my days. I hope that time will gradually reconcile me to the place which I have inhabited with my poor friend; for in spite of the cream of London, I am still persuaded that no other residence is so well adapted to my taste and habits of studious and social life.
Far from delighting in the whirl of a Metropolis, my only complaint against Lausanne is the great number of strangers, always of English, and now of French, by whom we are infested in summer. Yet we have escaped the damned great ones, the Count d'Artois,[138] the Polignacs,[139] &c. who slip by us to Turin. What a scene is France! While the assembly is voting abstract propositions, Paris is an independent Republic; the provinces have neither authority nor freedom, and poor Necker[140] declares that credit is no more, and that the people refuse to pay taxes. Yet I think you must be seduced by the abolition of tythes. If Eden goes to Paris you may have some curious confidential information. Give me some account of Mr. and Mrs. Douglas; do they live with Lord North? I hope they do. When will parliament be dissolved? Are you still Coventry mad? I embrace My Lady, the stately Maria, and the smiling Louisa. Alas! Alas! you will never come to Switzerland. Adieu, ever yours.*