583.
To Lord Sheffield.
Lausanne, December 28th, 1791.
THE DEMON OF PROCRASTINATION.
*Alas! alas! the Demon of procrastination has again possessed me. Three months have nearly rolled away since your departure; and seven letters, five from the most valuable Maria, and two from Yourself, have extorted from me only a single epistle, which, perhaps, would never have been written, had I not used the permission of employing my own tongue and the hand of a secretary. Shall I tell you, that, for these last six weeks, the eve of every post day has witnessed a firm resolution, and the day itself has furnished some ingenious delay? This morning, for instance, I had determined to invade you as soon as the breakfast things should be removed: they were removed; but I had something to read, to write, to meditate, and there was time enough before me. Hour after hour has stolen away, and I finally begin my letter at two o'Clock, evidently too late for the post, as I must dress, dine, go abroad, &c. A foundation, however, shall be laid, which will stare me in the face; and next Saturday I shall probably be rowzed by the awful reflection that it is the last day in the year.
After realizing this summer an event which I had long considered as a dream of fancy, I know not whether I should rejoyce or grieve at your visit to Lausanne. While I possessed the family, the sentiment of pleasure, with some occasional shades, highly predominated; and the last weeks of harmony and content were those which I the most truly enjoyed, when, just as we had subsided in a regular, easy, comfortable plan of life, the last trump sounded, and, without speaking of the pang of separation, you left me to one of the most gloomy, solitary months of October, which I have ever passed.
For yourself and daughter, however, you have contrived to snatch some of the most interesting scenes of this World. Paris, at such a moment, Switzerland, and the Rhine, have suggested a train of lively images and useful ideas, which will not be speedily erazed. The mind of the young Damsel, more especially, will be enlarged and enlightened in every sense; in four months she has lived many years; and she will much deceive and displease me, if she does not review and methodize her journal, in such a manner as she is capable of performing, for the amusement of her particular friends. Another benefit which will redound from your recent view is, that every place, person, and object, about Lausanne, are now become familiar and interesting to you. In our future correspondence (do I dare pronounce the word correspondence?) I can talk to you as freely of every circumstance as if it were actually before your eyes.
And first, of my own improvements.—All those venerable piles of ancient verdure which you admired, have been eradicated in one fatal day. Your faithful substitutes, William de Severy and Levade, have never ceased to persecute me, till I signed their death warrant. Their place is now supplied by a number of picturesque naked poles, the foster fathers of as many twigs of platanuses and acacias, which may afford a grateful but distant shade to the founder, or to his seris nepotibus. In the meanwhile I must confess that the terrace appears broader, and that I discover a much larger quantity of snow than I should otherwise do. The workmen admire your ingenious plan for cutting out a new bed-chamber and book-room; but, on mature consideration, we all unanimously prefer the old scheme of adding a third room beyond the library, with two spacious windows, and a fire-place between, on the Terrace. It will be larger (28 feet by 21), and pleasanter, and warmer: the difference of expence will be much less considerable than I imagined: the door of communication with the library will be artfully buried in the wainscot; and, unless it be opened by my own choice, may always remain a profound secret. Such is the design; but as it will not be executed before next summer, you have time and liberty to state your objections. I am much colder about the staircase, but it may be finished, according to your idea, for thirty pounds; and I feel they will persuade me. Am I not a very rich man? When these alterations are compleated, not forgetting the watercloset, few authors of six Volumes in quartos will be more agreeably lodged than myself.
Lausanne is now full and lively; all our native families are returned from the Country; and, praised be the Lord, we are infested with few foreigners, either French or English. Even our Democrates are more reasonable or more discreet; it is agreed to wave the subject of politics, and we all seem happy and cordial. I have a grand dinner this week, a supper of thirty or forty people on Twelfth-day, &c.; some concerts have taken place, some balls are talked of; and even Maria would allow (yet it is ungenerous to say even Maria) that the winter scene at Lausanne is tolerably gay and active. I say nothing of the Severys, as Angletine has epistolized Maria last post. She has probably hinted her brother meditates a short excursion to Turin; that worthy creature Trevor has given him a pressing invitation to his own house. Mrs. Trevor, who is one of us, does not envy him.
PEACE OR WAR IN EUROPE?
In the beginning of February I propose going to Geneva for three or four weeks. I shall lodge and eat with the Neckers; my mornings will be my own, and I shall spend my evenings in the society of the place, where I have many acquaintance. This short absence will agitate my stagnant life, and restore me with fresh appetite to my house, my library, and my friends. Before that time, the end of February, what events may happen, or be ready to happen! The National assembly[199] (compared to which the former was a Senate of heroes and Demigods) seem resolved to attack Germany avec quatre millions de bayonettes libres; the army of the princes must soon either fight, or starve, or conquer. Will Sweden draw his sword?[200] will Russia draw her purse?[201] an empty purse! All is darkness and anarchy: neither party is strong enough to impose a settlement; and I cannot see a possibility of an amicable arrangement, where there are no heads (in any sense of the word) who can answer for the multitude. Send me your ideas, and those of Lord Guildford, Lord Loughborough, Fox, &c.
Before I conclude, a word of my vexatious affairs.—Shall I never sail on the smooth stream of good security and half-yearly interest? Will every body refuse my money? I had already written to Darell and Gosling to obey your commands, and was in hopes that you had already made large and salutary evacuations. During your absence I never expected much effect from the cold indifference of agents; but you are now in England—you will be speedily in London; set all your setting dogs to beat the field, hunt, enquire,—why should you not advertise? And let not the Goslings dine at my expence. I know not what to say at present of India bonds—do they not Sink? Our affairs in that Country seem in a very ticklish situation. At all events consult with Darrel, he has knowledge of that sort and is a real friend. Yet I am almost ashamed to complain of some stagnation of interest, when I am witness to the natural and acquired philosophy of so many French, who are reduced from riches, not to indigence, but to absolute want and beggary. A Count Argout has just left us, who possessed ten thousand a-year in the Island of St. Domingo;[202] he is utterly burned and ruined; and a brother, whom he tenderly loved, has been murdered by the Negroes. These are real misfortunes.
AN AMAZING PUSH OF REMORSE.
I have much revolved the plan of the Memoirs I once mentioned; and, as you do not think it ridiculous, I believe I shall make an attempt: if I can please myself, I am confident of not displeasing; but let this be a profound secret between us: people must not be prepared to laugh; they must be taken by surprize. Have you looked over your, or rather my letters? Surely in the course of the year, you may find a safe and cheap occasion of sending me a parcel; they may assist me. Adieu. I embrace My Lady: send me a favourable account of her health and spirits. How happy might we have been, could she have preserved them at Lausanne! I kiss the Marmaille. By an amazing push of remorse and diligence I have finished my letter, three pages and a half, this same day since dinner; but I have not time to read it. Ever yours.*
half past six.