Still he is never peevish upon his fortune; he puts the
best face on things as long as they will bear it.
He was not so philosophical under the bereavements that he now
suffered. His aunt, Mrs. Porten, had died in 1786. He deplored her as
he was bound to do, and feelingly regrets and blames himself for not
having written to her as often as he might have done since their last
parting. Then came the irreparable loss of Deyverdun. Shortly, an old
Lausanne friend, M. de Severy, to whom he was much attached, died
after a long illness. Lastly and suddenly, came the death of Lady
Sheffield, the wife of his friend Holroyd, with whom he had long lived
on such intimate terms that he was in the habit of calling her his
sister. The Sheffields, father and mother and two daughters, had spent
the summer of 1791 with him at Lausanne. The visit was evidently an
occasion of real happiness and _epanchement de coeur_ to the two old
friends, and supplied Gibbon for nearly two years with tender regrets
and recollections. Then, without any warning, he heard of Lady
Sheffield's death. In a moment his mind was made up: he would go at
once to console his friend.
Pages:
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215