565.
To his Stepmother.
Lausanne, May 18th, 1791.
Dear Madam,
*As much as I am accustomed to my own sins, I am shocked, really shocked, when I think of my long and most inexcusable silence; nor do I dare to compute how many months I have suffered to elapse without sending a single line—(Oh shame! shame!)—to the best and dearest of my friends, who indeed has been very seldom out of my thoughts. I have sometimes imagined, that if the opportunities of writing occurred less frequently, they would be seized with more diligence; but the unfortunate departure of the post twice every week encourages procrastination, and each short successive delay is indulged without scruple, till the whole has swelled to a tremendous account. I will try, alas! to reform; and although I am afraid that writing grows painful to you, I have the confidence to solicit a speedy line, to say that you love and forgive me. After a long experience of the unfeeling doubts and delays of the law, you will probably soon hear from Lord S. that the Buriton transaction is at last concluded, and I hope you will be satisfied with the full and firm security of your annuity. That you may long continue to enjoy it is the first and most sincere wish of my heart.
LIKE ADAM ALONE IN PARADISE.
In the placid course of our lives, at Lausanne and Bath, we have few events to relate, and fewer changes to describe; but I indulge myself in the pleasing belief that we are both as well and as happy as the common order of Nature will allow us to expect. I should be satisfied, had I received from time to time some indirect, but agreeable information of the general state of your health. For myself, I have no complaint, except the Gout; and though the visits of my old enemy are longer, and more enfeebling, they are confined to my feet and knees; the pain is moderate, and my imprisonment to my chamber, or my chair, is much alleviated by the daily kindness of my friends. I wish it were in my power to give you an adequate idea of the conveniency of my house, and the beauty of my garden: both of which I have improved at a considerable expence since the death of poor Deyverdun. But the loss of a friend is indeed irreparable, and I sometimes feel, that like Adam I am alone in Paradise. Were I ten years younger, I might possibly think of a female companion; but the choice is difficult, the success doubtful, the engagement perpetual, and at fifty-four a man should never think of altering the whole System of his life and habits. The disposal of Buriton, and the death of my aunt Hester, who has left me a small estate in Sussex, makes me very easy in my worldly affairs; my income is equal to my expence, and my expence is adequate to my wishes. You may possibly have heard of litterary projects which are ascribed to me by the public without my knowledge: but it is much more probable that I have closed the account: and though I shall never lay aside the pleasing occupations of study, you may be assured that I have no serious settled thoughts of a new work. Next year I shall meditate, and I trust shall execute, a visit to England, in which the Belvidere is one of my powerful loadstones. I often reflect, with a painful emotion, on the imperious circumstances which have thrown us at such a distance from each other.
In the moving picture of the World, you cannot be indifferent to the strange Revolution which has humbled all that was high, and exalted all that was low, in France. The irregular and lively spirit of the Nation has disgraced their liberty, and instead of building a free constitution, they have only exchanged Despotism for Anarchy. This town and country are crowded with noble Exiles; and we sometimes count in an assembly a dozen princesses and dutchesses. Burke, if I remember right, is no favourite of yours; but there is surely much eloquence and much sense in his book. The prosperity of England forms a proud contrast with the disorders of France; but I hope we shall avoid the folly of a Russian War. Pitt, in this instance, seems too like his father.*
I am, My Dearest Madam,
Ever most affectionately Yours,
E. Gibbon.