E-text prepared by Marjorie Fulton



GEORGE SELWYN: HIS LETTERS AND HIS LIFE

Edited by

E. S. ROSCOE AND HELEN CLERGUE

London
T. Fisher Unwin
Paternoster Square

1899







PREFACE

IN the histories and memoirs of the eighteenth century the name of
George Selwyn often occurs. The letters which he received have
afforded frequent and valuable material to the student of the reign
of George the Third. A large number of these were published by the
late Mr. Jesse in the four volumes entitled "George Selwyn and his
Contemporaries." Except, however, that Selwyn was regarded as the
first humourist of his time, little was known about him, for
scarcely any letters which he wrote had until recently been found.
But in the Fifteenth Report of the Historical Manuscript Commission
there were printed, amongst a mass of other material, more than two
hundred letters from his untiring pen which had been preserved at
Castle Howard. No one who has had an opportunity of examining the
originals can fail to recognise the skill and labour with which the
Castle Howard correspondence of Selwyn--wanting in most instances
the date of the year--was arranged by Mr. Kirk on behalf of the
Commission.

A correspondence, however, which illustrates vividly phases of an
interesting and important period of English history, appeared to be
deserving of presentation to the public in a separate volume, and
with the explanations necessary to make the allusions in it fully
understood.

A selection has therefore, in the following pages, been made from
the Castle Howard letters. The aim of the editors has been to choose
those which appeared most interesting and representative, and to
place them in definite groups, supplementing them with such a
narrative, remarks, and notes as would, without enveloping the
correspondence in a quantity of extraneous material, enable the
whole to present the life of Selwyn, and at the same time add
another to the pictures of the age in which he lived.

The dates of the letters are those ascribed to them by Mr. Kirk.

The frequently incorrect spelling of proper names has not been
altered.

The editors desire cordially to thank Lord Carlisle, not only for
the permission to publish this correspondence, but for the kind
assistance which he has given in other ways to the undertaking.

E. S. R. H. C.

November, 1899.



CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1. GEORGE SELWYN: His LIFE, His FRIENDS, AND His AGE

CHAPTER 2. 1767-1769. THE CORRESPONDENCE COMMENCES ....
Frederick, fifth Earl of Carlisle--Lady Sarah Bunbury--The Duke of
Grafton--Carlisle, Charles Fox, and the Hollands abroad--Current
Events--Card-playing--A dinner at Crawford's--Lady Bolingbroke
--Almack's--The Duke of Bedford--Lord Clive--The Nabobs--Corporation
of Oxford sell the representation of the borough--Madame du Deffand
--Publication of Horace Walpole's "Historic Doubts on Richard the
Third"--Newmarket--London Society--Gambling at the Clubs--A post
promised to Selwyn--Elections--A purchase of wine--Vauxhall.

CHAPTER 3. 1773-1777; 1779 AND 1780 POLITICS AND SOCIETY.
Fox's debts--Lord Holland--News from London--Interviews with
Fox--The Fire at Holland House--A Visit to Tunbridge--Provision for
Mie Mie--County business and electioneering at Gloucester--Lotteries
--Fox and Carlisle--Highway adventures--London Society--Newmarket
intelligence--An evening in town--Charles Fox and America--Carlisle
declines a court post--money from Fox--Selwyn and gambling--A
Private Bill committee--Selwyn in bad spirits--The Royal Society
--Book-buying--Political affairs--London parks--Gainsborough--The
Duchess of Kingston--Selwyn's private affairs--"The Diaboliad"--A
dinner at the French Ambassador's--Politics and the clubs--In Paris
--Electioneering again.

CHAPTER 4. 1781. THE DISASTERS IN AMERICA.
A drum at Selwyn's--George, Lord Morpeth--Dr. Warner--Sale of the
Houghton pictures--The House of Commons--Pitt's first speech--Selwyn
unwell--Play at Brooks's--London gaieties--Fox and his new clothes
--Gambling--The bailiffs in Fox's house--"Fish" Crawford--Montem at
Eton--Mie Mie's education--Second speech of Pitt--Lord North--A
Court Ball--Society and politics--The Emperor of Austria
--Conversation with Fox--Personal feelings--American affairs--rd
North and Mr. Robinson--State of politics--London Society.

CHAPTER 5. 1782. THE FALL OF LORD NORTH.
Fox's political principles--The fifth Duke of Bedford--A little
dinner--A debate in the Commons--The attack on Lord George Germaine
--An evening at Brooks's--Pitt and his friends--Possible changes in
the Cabinet--Faro at White's--A story of the Duke of Richmond--An
Address to the King--A Levee--Play and politics at Brooks's
--Government and the Opposition--Selwyn and his offices--The
position of the King--Fears of change of administration--The King's
objections to Fox--Probable debates--Political prospects--Debates
and divisions--The fate of the King's friends--Illness of Lord
Morpeth--Annoyance of Selwyn at the state of affairs--Fox and
Selwyn--Fall of Lord North--A new Ministry--Official changes--Fox
and Carlisle--Carlisle's position--Morpeth and Mie Mie.

CHAPTER 6. 1786-1791. THE CLOSING CENTURY.
Political Events--At Richmond--The Duke of Queensberry's villa
--Princess Amelia--The King's illness--The French Revolution
--Proposed visit to Castle Howard--In Gloucestershire--Affairs in
France--The Emigres--Society at Richmond--The French Revolution
--Richmond Theatre--French friends--Christening of Lady Caroline
Campbell's child--Selwyn's bad health--Death.

INDEX



NOTE ON ILLUSTRATIONS

Portrait of George Augustus Selwyn at the age of fifty-one: from a
pastelle by Hugh Douglas Hamilton, drawn in 1770. Hamilton, who was
an Irish artist of considerable reputation, was at this time working
in London. After a long visit to Italy he returned to Dublin in 1792
and was elected a member of the Royal Hibernian Academy. This
drawing is in the possession of the Earl of Carlisle at Castle
Howard, Yorkshire.

Group of George Augustus Selwyn and Frederick, fifth Earl of
Carlisle: from a picture by Sir Joshua Reynolds, P.R.A. The dog by
the side of Selwyn is his favourite, Raton. Selwyn is dressed in a
pale brown coat and breeches, a red vest trimmed with gold lace, and
light grey stockings; the Earl of Carlisle in a reddish brown coat
and pale yellow vest. He wears the green ribbon and star of the
Order of the Thistle. This picture was probably painted about the
year 1770, and is in the possession of the Earl of Carlisle at
Castle Howard, Yorkshire ....



TABLE OF DATES
1719. Birth.
1739. Matriculated at Hart Hall, Oxford.
1740. Clerk of the Irons and Surveyor of Meltings at the Mint.
1742-3. In Paris; having gone down from Oxford for a time.
1745. Finally left Oxford.
1747. M.P. for Ludgershall.
1751. Death of father and elder brother.
1754. M.P. for Gloucester.
1755. Paymaster of the Works.
1767. Correspondence with fifth Earl of Carlisle commences.
1779. Registrar of the Court of Chancery of Barbadoes.
1780. Loses seat for Gloucester. M.P. for Ludgershall.
1782. Loses office of Paymaster of the Works.
1784. Surveyor-General of Land Revenues of the Crown.
1791. Death.



Health is the first good lent to men;
 A gentle disposition then
 Next to be rich by no bye ways,
 Lastly with friends t'enjoy our days.

HERRICK




CHAPTER 1. GEORGE SELWYN--HIS LIFE, HIS FRIENDS, AND HIS AGE

During the latter half of the eighteenth century no man had more
friends in the select society which comprised those who were of the
first importance in English politics, fashion, or sport, than George
Selwyn. In one particular he was regarded as supreme and
unapproachable; he was the humourist of his time. His ban mots were
collected and repeated with extraordinary zest. They were enjoyed by
Members of Parliament at Westminster, and by fashionable ladies in
the drawing-rooms of St. James's. They were told as things not to be
forgotten in the letters of harassed politicians. "You must have
heard all the particulars of the Duke of Northumberland's
entertainment," wrote Mr. Whateley in 1768 to George Grenville, the
most hardworking of ministers; "perhaps you have not heard George
Selwyn's bon mot."* But as usually happens when a man becomes known
for his humour jokes were fathered on Selwyn, just as half a century
later any number of witticisms were attributed to Sydney Smith which
he had never uttered. It was truly remarked of Selwyn at the time of
his death: "Many good things he did say, there was no doubt, and
many he was capable of saying, but the number of good, bad, and
indifferent things attributed to him as bon mots for the last thirty
years of his life were sufficient to stock a foundling hospital for
wit."*

* Grenville Correspondence, vol. 11. p. 372.

* Gentleman's Magazine, 1791, p. 94.

It is therefore not surprising that Selwyn has been handed down to
posterity as a wit. It is a dismal reputation. Jokes collected in
contemporary memoirs fall flat after a century's keeping; the
essential of their success is spontaneity, appropriateness, the
appreciation even of their teller, often also a knowledge among
those who hear them of the peculiarities of the persons whom they
mock. When we read one of them now, we are almost inclined to wonder
how such a reputation for humour could be gained. Wit is of the
present; preserved for posterity it is as uninteresting as a faded
flower, nor can it recall to us memories sunny or sad. But Selwyn
was a man who while filling a conspicuous place in the fashionable
life of the age was also so intimate with statesmen and politicians,
and so thoroughly lives in his correspondence, that in following his
life we find ourselves one of that singular society which in the
last half of the eighteenth century ruled the British Empire from
St. James's Street.

Selwyn's life, though passed in a momentous age, was uneventful, but
the course of it must be traced.

George Augustus Selwyn, second son of Colonel John Selwyn, of
Matson, in Gloucestershire, and of Mary, daughter of General
Farrington, of Kent, was born on the 11th of August, 1719. His
father, aide-de-camp to Marlborough and a friend of Sir Robert
Walpole, was a man of character and ability, well known in the
courts of the first and second Georges. Selwyn, however, probably
inherited his wit and his enjoyment of society from his mother, who
was Woman of the Bedchamber to Queen Charlotte. Horace Walpole
writes of her as "Mrs. Selwyn, mother of the famous George, and
herself of much vivacity, and pretty."

Selwyn's elder brother died in 1751, and grief at his loss seems to
have hastened the death of his father, which occurred in the same
year.

His sister Albinia married Thomas Townshend, second son of Charles
Viscount Townshend. By this marriage the families of Selwyn and
Walpole were connected.

The home of the family was at Matson, a village two and a half miles
south-east of Gloucester, on the spurs of the Cotswold hills,
looking over the Severn valley--once called Mattesdone. There is a
good deal of obscurity as to the ownership of the manor in mediaeval
times, but it appears to have been in the possession of what may
popularly speaking be called the family of Mattesdone. The landowner
described himself by the place; "Ego Philippus de Mattesdone" are
the words of an ancient document preserved among the records of the
Monastery of St. Peter at Gloucester.*

* "Historia et Cartularium Monasterii Sancti Petri Gloucestria,"
edited by W. Hart, vol. i. p. 100.

To come to more recent times, the manor house was built in 1594 by
Sir Ambrose Willoughby. From him the estate was purchased in 1597 by
Jasper Selwyn, Counsellor at Law, of Stonehouse, who was the fourth
in descent from John Selwyn, one of a Sussex family.

In 1751 the direct entail was broken by Colonel Selwyn, and the
property was re-entailed on the descendants of his daughter, Mrs.
Townshend, though it was left by will to George Selwyn for his life.
On his death it devolved on Thomas, Lord Sydney, and has since
remained in the possession of the Townshend family.** Walpole has
given a description of the place in the days when he used to visit
it.

** Bigland, "History of Gloucestershire," vol. ii. p. 200.

"I stayed two days at George Selwyn's house, called Matson, which
lies on Robin Hood's Hill; it is lofty enough for an Alp, yet it is
a mountain of turf to the very top, has wood scattered all over it,
springs that long to be cascades in twenty places of it, and from
the summit of it beats even Sir George Lyttleton's views, by having
the city of Gloucester at its foot, and the Severn widening to the
horizon. His house is small, but neat. King Charles lay here at the
siege, and the Duke of York, with typical fury, hacked and hewed the
window-shutters of his chamber, as a memorandum of his being there.
Here is a good picture of Dudley, Earl of Leicester, in his later
age, . . . and here is the very flower pot and counterfeit
association for which Bishop Sprat is taken up, and the Duke of
Marlborough sent to the Tower. The reservoirs on the hill supply the
city. The late Mr. Selwyn governed the borough by them, and I
believe by some wine too. . . .

"A little way from the town are the ruins of Lantony Priory; there
remains a pretty old gateway, which G. Selwyn has begged to erect on
the top of his mountain, and it will have a charming effect."*

* "The Letters of Horace Walpole," vol. ii. p. 354.

Selwyn's schooldays were passed at Eton with Gray and Walpole. In
1739 he became an undergraduate of Hertford College, Oxford, or Hart
Hall as it was called. It was to Hertford also that later Charles
Fox went, "a college which has in our own day been munificently
re-endowed as a training school of principles and ideas very
different from those ordinarily associated with the name of its
greatest son." Hertford was in the middle of the eighteenth century
a college where the so-called students neither toiled at books nor
at physical exercise. They passed a short and merry time at the
University, fashioned as nearly as might be on the mode of life of a
man about town. In 1740 he was appointed to the vague-sounding
office of Clerk of the Irons and Surveyor of the Meltings in the
Mint, a sinecure which, after the manner of the time, required no
personal attention from the holder. Even in those early days Selwyn,
who went by the sobriquet of "Bosky," had many friends--not only
among college boys, but in London society. "You must judge by what
you feel yourself," wrote Walpole to General Conway, the soldier and
statesman, on the occasion of a severe illness from which Selwyn
suffered in 1741, "of what I feel for Selwyn's recovery, with the
addition of what I have suffered from post to post. But as I find
the whole town have had the same sentiments about him (though I am
sure few so strong as myself), I will not repeat what you have heard
so much. I shall write to him to-night, though he knows, without my
telling him, how very much I love him. To you, my dear Harry, I am
infinitely obliged for the three successive letters you wrote me
about him, which gave me double pleasure, as they showed your
attention for me at a time that you knew I must be so unhappy, and
your friendship for him."* But then came an interval in Selwyn's
academic career--if such it may be called--since he was certainly
in Paris, much in want of money, at the end of 1742 and the
beginning of 1743. It is probable that he had gone down from Oxford
for some irregularity; he ultimately was obliged to leave the
University for the same reason. For though he re-entered his college
in 1744 he only remained there until the following year, when he was
sent down for an irreverent jest after dinner, having taken more to
drink than was good for him. His friends, especially Sir Charles
Hanbury Williams and some in authority at Oxford also, thought that
Selwyn was harshly treated. Whether that were so or not this was the
end of his University career. It was not a promising beginning of a
life, and for some years he was regarded as a good-natured
spendthrift. The death of his elder brother and father however in
1751 produced a sense of responsibility, but even before this date
he had been endeavouring to regain his father's goodwill. "I don't
yet imagine," wrote his friend, Sir William Maynard, shortly before
the death of Colonel J. Selwyn, "you are quite established in his
good opinion, and if his life is but spared one twelvemonth you may
have an opportunity of convincing him you are in earnest in your
promises of a more frugal way of life." As too often happens the son
had not time in his father's lifetime to regain his good opinion.
Certainly Selwyn made no attempt to give up pleasure, though he was
bent on it no doubt with a more frugal mind. He was a man of fashion
and of pleasure, having his headquarters in London, paying visits
now and again to great country houses as Trentham and Croome. To
Bath he went as one goes now to the Riviera. In Paris too he
delighted; when in the autumn of 1762 the Duke of Bedford was in
France negotiating the treaty which is known in history as the Peace
of Paris, it was Selwyn who accompanied the Duchess when she joined
her husband. "She sets out the day after to-morrow," wrote Walpole
on September 8th, "escorted to add gravity to the Embassy by George
Selwyn." After the treaty was completed on February 10th of the
following year, as a memento of his visit the Duke presented Selwyn
with the pen with which this unpopular document was signed.* Indeed
in those days he was constantly in Paris, much to the regret of his
friends at home--"Do come and live among your friends who love and
honour you," wrote Gilly Williams to him in the autumn of 1764, but
in spite of their wishes he stayed on throughout the winter in the
French capital, and when his friend Carlisle went in 1778 to America
as a peace commissioner Selwyn tried to console himself for his
absence by a stay in Paris. "George is now, I imagine, squaring his
elbows and turning out his toes in Paris," wrote Hare to Carlisle in
December of that year. Neither politics nor pleasure could prevent
continual and long visits to France.

* Horace Walpole to H. S. Conway, Florence, March 25, 1741.

* Bedford Correspondence, vol. iii. P. 206.

The charming country estate and house which he had inherited from
his father had little attraction for Selwyn, and to the end of his
life, if he could not be in town, he preferred Castle Howard, or
indeed any house where he would meet with congenial spirits. "This
is the second day," he once wrote to Carlisle, "I am come home to
dine alone, but so it is, and if it goes on so I am determined to
keep a chaplain, for although I do not stand in need of much
society, I do not relish being quite alone at this time of day."

All this time he was a Member of Parliament. There is a little
village of small red cottages with thatched roofs lying among the
Wiltshire downs between Savernake Forest and Andover. It is called
Ludgershall, and has a quiet out-of-the-world look. In the
eighteenth century it was a pocket borough, returning two Members to
Parliament, and was the property of the Selwyn family. The
representation was as much in their hands as the trees in the
adjoining fields. In 1747 George Selwyn had found it convenient to
enter the House of Commons. In Ludgershall there were no
constituents to take him to task; to be able to go to Westminster
when he wished added to the variety of life. It kept him in touch
with the politicians and statesmen of St. James's Street, and it
made him a marketable quantity--his price was another sinecure, the
place of Paymaster of the Works. But this he did not receive until
he had inherited the family property, which gave him a hold on the
city of Gloucester. For this city he was a Member from 1754 to 1780,
when, losing his seat at the general election, he gladly returned to
his former constituency. The seat at Ludgershall was never in the
nature of a true political representation, and even when Member for
Gloucester Selwyn seems to have attended but little to the House of
Commons. He was one of a legion of sinecures--a true specimen of the
place-man of the age. Possessed of some political influence, he was
able to find in politics a means of increasing his income. It would
be absurd to censure him because he was a sinecurist; he was acting
according to the customs of the time. The man who in the reign of
George III. had the opportunity of obtaining posts which carried
with them salaries and no duties would have been regarded as
Quixotic if he had thrown such opportunities away. In this Selwyn is
thoroughly representative of his time, and his frequent anxiety lest
he should be deprived of his offices is indicative of an
apprehension which was felt by many others.

Yet, sinecurist as he was, Selwyn often regarded his position as a
hard necessity, especially when he was driven into the country to
look after his constituents. He would then heartily wish himself out
of Parliament: the sorrows of a sinecurist might well be the title
of some of the letters written from Matson.

Selwyn's was a life devoid of stirring incidents, and from the date
at which his correspondence with Lord Carlisle begins the course of
his days is indicated in his letters. It is sufficient, therefore,
to state that he died at his house in Cleveland Row, St. James's, on
the 25th of January, 1791, still a Member of Parliament, in the
place where his life had been passed and among his innumerable
friends.

In one sense his life had been solitary, for he was never married;
but an unusual love for the young which was a charming and
remarkable characteristic, singularly opposed to many of his habits,
had been centred on the child whom he called Mie Mie,* the daughter
of an Italian lady, the Marchesa Fagniani, who was for some time in
England with her husband. The origin of Selwyn's interest in the
child is obscure, but the story of his affection is striking and
unusual.

From a letter written by the Marchesa Fagniani to Selwyn in 1772 it
is evident that Mie Mie, then about a year old, had been with him
for some months, and in 1774 Lord Carlisle congratulates him upon
the certainty of the child's remaining with him. The first mention
of her in these letters occurs under date of July 23, 1774, where we
have a picture of Selwyn, drawn by himself. He is sitting on his
steps, the pretty, foreign-looking child in his arms, pleased at the
attention she attracts. When she was four she was taken to pay
visits with him; but it is difficult at this time to know if he or
the Earl of March had charge of her.

* Maria Fagniani (1771-1856). She was married in 1792, the year
after Selwyn's death, to the Earl of Yarmouth, afterwards third
Marquis of Hertford. She led a life of pleasure (1802-7), travelling
on the continent with the Marshal Androche. She had three children,
and died at Rue Tailbout, Paris.

Such interest in a young child naturally occasioned remark in London
society, and the question of her paternity has never been clearly
settled; in the gossip of the time both the Duke of Queensberry and
Selwyn were said to be her father. The characters of the two men,
however, and various points in their correspondence, seem to fix
this relation upon the Duke of Queensberry. Selwyn's interest was
that of a man who though without children had a strong and unusual
affection for the young. He looked forward to the pleasure her
development and education would be to him, and to the solace of her
companionship in old age. She enlisted his sympathy and devotion.
From the first time he saw her he wished to adopt her, and until the
end of his life she was first in his thought, and all his circle
approved of his little friend.

He soon made provision for her in his will, writing to Lord Carlisle
July 26, 1774, that he must no longer delay in securing her future.
In 1776 he placed her at school. After infinite trouble, Campden
House was chosen, where every day he either saw her or received
communications from the schoolmistress relative to her health,
comfort, and happiness.

"Mrs. Terry presents her compliments to Mr. Selwyn; has the pleasure
to assure him that dear Mademoiselle Fagniani is as well to-day as
her good friend could possibly wish her to be. She is this minute
engaged in a party at high romps."

"Mrs. Terry presents her best compliments to Mr. Selwyn; is very
sorry to find that he is so uneasy. The dear child's spirits are not
depressed. She is very lively; ate a good dinner; and behaves just
like other children. She hopes Mr. Selwyn will make no scruple of
coming to-morrow morning, or staying his hour, or more if he likes
it; she will then talk to him about the head; but in the meantime
begs he will not suppose that the dear child suffers by his absence,
or that anything is neglected; for if Mrs. Terry thought Mr. Selwyn
could suppose such a thing, she would wish to resign the charge. She
begs he will come to-morrow."

Mie Mie was a disturbing element, if also a satisfaction, in
Selwyn's life, for at all times overhanging present pleasure in her
company was the dread of losing her. In August of 1776 the Marchesa
Fagniani and her husband came to England. Selwyn had a fairly
satisfactory interview, in which it was settled that the child
should not leave him for a year. Before the time had expired he was
exhausting every means to procure a longer delay; he even applied to
the Austrian Ambassador that the Governor of Milan should use his
influence with the family; but her return was insisted upon, and in
August of 1777 Mie Mie left England to join her parents in Paris.
The most careful and elaborate arrangements were made by Selwyn for
her safety and comfort while travelling, and a list of the houses
where stops were to be made given to faithful attendants.

He dreaded however the pain of parting with the child, and when the
day of her departure arrived he absented himself to avoid the
farewell, and his spirits and health suffered from her loss. Two
months later Carlisle writes, "I never thought your attachment
extraordinary. I might, for your sake, have wished it less in the
degree; but what I did think extraordinary was that you would never
permit what was most likely to happen ever to make its appearance in
your perspective. March speaks with great tenderness and real
compassion for your sufferings. Have you been at Lady Holland's? Are
you in my house? Do not stay too long at Frognal; change the scene;
it will do you good. Gratify every caprice of that sort, and write
to me everything that comes into your head. You cannot unload your
heart to any one who will receive its weight more cheerfully than I
shall do."

But next year we hear of Selwyn at Milan negotiating with Mie Mie's
relatives for her return. His proposals to make settlements on her
met with alternate rebuffs and promises that kept him in a state of
intermingled fear and hope. He was finally put off with the
understanding that she should return to him in the spring; and in
October he turned homeward.

In the spring it was arranged that the Marchesa Fagniani should
bring Mie Mie to Paris to be left a few weeks in a convent before
Selwyn should claim her. The meeting did not take place without a
last trial of patience for him. He arrived in Paris in April,
expecting to find the little traveller, but he was informed that the
departure from Milan had been delayed for a few days; this was
followed by the news of a change of plans, and that Selwyn must go
to Lyons to meet the child, who would be conducted there by her
mother--a meeting Selwyn had wished to avert. Eventually, early in
May, we read the congratulations of his friends on the restoration
of what had become dearest to him in the world.

During the month Selwyn spent in Paris, however, waiting for Mie
Mie, who was passing the specified time in the convent, fresh
difficulties were raised, and he began to doubt if he should ever
bring the little girl to England. His health was seriously affected
by the strain, and his friends begged him to give up a pursuit which
was injuring it and taking him from them; but Mie Mie was at last
received from the convent under a vague condition that at some
future time she should return to it; a half promise which neither
side expected would be fulfilled.

The Rev. Dr. Warner gives us a slight description of Mie Mie. A year
had passed; she is nine years old; he is writing to Selwyn:--

"That freshness of complexion I should have great pleasure in
beholding. It must add to her charms, and cannot diminish the
character, sense, and shrewdness which distinguish her physiognomy,
and which she possesses in a great degree, with a happy engrafting
of a high-bred foreign air upon an English stock . . .

"But how very pleasant to me was your honest and naive confession of
the joy your heart felt at hearing her admired! It is, indeed, most
extraordinary that a certain person who has great taste--would he
had as much nature!--should not see her with very different eyes
from what he does. I can never forget that naive expression of Mme.
de Sevigne, 'Je ne sais comment Von fait de ne pas aimer sa fille?'"

* The Duke of Queens berry.

But Selwyn was never quite free from the fear that she should be
taken from him. In January, 1781, he writes to Lord Carlisle:--

"From Milan things are well; at least, no menaces from thence of any
sort, and I am assured, by one who is the most intimate friend of
the Emperor's minister there, that he was much more likely to
approve than to disapprove of Mie Mie's being with me, knowing as he
does the turn and character of the mother."

The relationship from this time was more settled, and as Mie Mie
grew into womanhood she became to Selwyn a delightful and
affectionate companion.

Selwyn was a universal friend; he was equally at home with
politicians, dilettanti, and children; he was a man of such
consistent good nature, so unaffectedly kind-hearted, that every
one, statesman, gambler, or schoolboy, liked to be in his company.
Yet among Selwyn's many friends and acquaintances two groups are
remarkable. The first was formed of men of his own age--Walpole,
Edgecumbe, Gilly Williams, and Lord March comprise what may be
called the Strawberry Hill group. It was at Walpole's famous villa
that they liked best to meet, and it is by Reynolds that Walpole's
"out-of-town party" has been handed down to us.** They were an odd
coterie--cultivated, artificial, gossiping. None of them ever
married; to do so seemed to have been unfashionable, if not
unpopular; and when we see the results of many marriages among their
friends, they were best, perhaps, as bachelors. They considered
themselves free to act as they pleased; and this freedom became
notorious by the life-long dissipation of March, and by the free
living of Edgecumbe, who died at forty-five after a life misspent at
the gaming-table. That he possessed a bright mind and ingenious wit
is proved by his verses and by the estimate of his friends. The
amusing coat of arms which the friends designed for White's Club was
painted by him, while he was one of the first to recognise the
genius of Reynolds.

** The group of Selwyn, Edgecumbe, and Williams which was painted
for Horace Walpole in 1781, and subsequently became the property of
the late Lord Taunton, now belongs to his daughter, the Hon. Mrs.
Edward Stanley, and is at Quantock Lodge, Bridgwater. It is a
charming and interesting picture. A replica by Sir J. Reynolds, the
property of Lord Cadogan, is at Chelsea House.

The other group was of a younger generation, more brilliant and more
modern. They might not inappropriately be called the Fox group,
since his personality was so conspicuous among them. They talked
politics and gambled at Brooks's, they appreciated each other's
brightness, and lost their money with the indifference of true
friends. There was the gallant and charming soldier Fitzpatrick, the
schoolfellow and friend of Fox, the sagacious and versatile but
place-seeking Storer. Hare, who, less well-born, had risen by his
wit and talents to a place among the cleverest men of the time, "the
Hare with many friends," as he was called by the Duchess of Gordon.
Frederick, Earl of Carlisle and Crawford, the "petit Craufurt" of
Mme. du Deffand; and chief of all was Charles Fox, who to Selwyn was
incomprehensible. Selwyn had been his father's friend, and had known
him from childhood. He loved him and liked his companionship; yet
his unrestrained folly at the gambling-table and on the racecourse,
his loose ideas on money matters, and his political opinions, at
times annoyed, irritated, and puzzled him almost beyond endurance.
With the older and the younger group Selwyn was on the same terms of
intimate friendship: now pleasing by his wit, and now helping by his
kindness and common sense.

Castle Howard was the place, outside London, which most attracted
him. It is even to-day a long way from the metropolis, and one feels
something like surprise that such a lover of the town as Selwyn
could, even to the end of his life, undertake the tiresome journey
to Yorkshire. But in the stately galleries of Vanbrugh's design he
renewed his associations with France. There he was not bored by
country society; in the home circle he had all the company he
needed. He could look out over the rolling uplands and see the
distant wolds, contented to observe and enjoy them from afar amidst
the books and pictures which his host had collected. If he wanted
exercise the spacious gardens were at hand, and the artificial
adornment of temples and statuary pleased a taste highly cultivated
after the fashion of the times.

In a drawing-room Selwyn was as welcome as in a club, and he could
only be said to be out of place in his own country house, more
especially at the time of an election for Gloucester. The modern
love of landscape, of country life as an aesthetic pleasure, was
unknown to him. Civilisation, refinement, seemed to him to be
confined to London and Paris, to Bath or Tunbridge Wells. "Now sto
per partire, and I ought in point of discretion to set out
to-morrow, but I dare say 'twill be Friday evening before I'll have
the courage to throw myself off the cart. But then go I must; for on
Monday our Assizes begin, and how long I shall stay the Lord knows,
but I hope in God not more than ten days at farthest, for I find my
aversion to that part of the world greater and more insufferable
every day of my life, and indeed have no wish to be absent from home
but to go to Castle Howard, which I hope that I shall not delay many
days after my return from Gloucestershire" (August, 1774). A week
later he had arrived at his home. "The weather is very fine, and
Matson in as great beauty as a place can be in, but the beauties of
it make very little impression upon me; in short, there is nothing
in the eccentric situation in which I am now that can afford me the
least pleasure, and everything I love to see in the world is at a
distance from me" (August 9, 1774).

To-day such a man as Selwyn Would have had a choice collection of
water colours; he would be ashamed if he could not appreciate the
tone and tenderness of an English landscape. But though a friend of
Reynolds and of Romney, though he commissioned and appreciated
Gainsborough, and valued the masterpieces of the past, in a word,
was essentially a man of culture, yet this phase of modern
refinement was utterly unknown to him.

As a politician Selwyn, as has already been said, was a sinecurist;
he never took a political interest in affairs of state, and he
looked at events which have become historical from an unpolitical
point of view. But though he writes of parliamentary incidents as a
spectator, there is always in his letters a personal characterisation
which gives them vividness and life. For his long parliamentary
career brought Selwyn continually into contact with many varied
personalities of several political generations. When he entered the
House of Commons Henry Pelham was Prime Minister, and the elder Pitt
had not yet formed that coalition with the Duke of Newcastle which
enabled him to command a majority in the House of Commons and to be
the greatest War Minister of the century. When Selwyn died, still a
Member of Parliament, the younger Pitt was Prime Minister and the
French Revolution had upset that old regime which Selwyn had known
so well. In his time Pelham, Newcastle, Bute, Grenville, Chatham,
Grafton, North, Rockingham, Shelburne, and Portland were successively
heads of administrations: of some of these, and of many who served
under them, Selwyn was a friend. Of the political and personal life
of every one of them he had been an interested spectator. There was
no man of the age who had a longer period of parliamentary
observation and of personal association with the leading politicians
of the time. But this intimacy with political personages never
impressed him with the importance of political office. "You will not
believe it, perhaps," he once wrote to Lady Carlisle when he had
been asked to meet Pitt at dinner, "but a minister of any
description, though served up in his great shell of power, and all
his green fat about him, is to me a dish by no means relishing, and
I never knew but one in my life I could pass an hour with pleasantly,
which was Lord Holland." Cabinet Ministers of the eighteenth century
belonged to a single section of society, which included every one of
note and every one in it knew their faults and their failings; they
were not afraid of offending constituents or of being lectured in
leading articles. Thus their littleness, rather than their
greatness, was apt to impress a daily observer like Selwyn, and to
give to his remarks an aspect of depreciation and of pessimism.

That Selwyn was a gossip, no one knew better than himself, and he
has incurred the censure of Sir George Trevelyan for repeating
tittle-tattle, as he calls it, about Fox and his gambling. But
posterity desires to see the real Fox, not an ideal statesman--to
see a man as he lived, not only a political figure. Looking back for
more than a century we may very well appreciate to the full Fox's
great qualities and yet be aware of his weaknesses and his vices, in
which he showed the strength of a passionate and virile character in
contact with certain characteristics of the society of the age.
Instead, therefore, of blaming Selwyn for repeating to
correspondents the minor incidents of the time, we ought to be
thankful to him for enabling us to picture so many of the leading
personages of that day as they were. If we look to a period before
or after that of Selwyn, we see an immortal gossip in Pepys, and in
Greville another who will be read after the works of eminent
historians have been put on upper shelves as out of date. The
detailing of the minor facts of life without malice and with
absolute truth enables posterity to form a sound judgment on a past
age.

Among the amusements of the society in which Selwyn delighted was
one which now seems both morbid and cruel: that of attending the
execution of those condemned to capital punishment. Even to his
friends and immediate successors, no less than to those who have
written of him, the fact that a man so full of kindness, who took
pleasure in the innocent companionship of children, could with
positive eagerness witness the hanging of a thief at Tyburn, has
been a cause of surprise. When one is conversant with the history of
the time the astonishment is ridiculous. The sight of a man on the
gallows no more disturbed the serenity of the most good-natured of
men at the end of the eighteenth century than do the dying flutters
of a partridge the susceptibilities of the most cultured of modern
sportsmen. Selwyn was ever trying to get as much amusement out of
life as possible, and he would have been acting contrary to all the
ideas of the fashionable society of his age if he had sat at home
when a criminal was to die. It was said of Boswell, just as it was
of Selwyn, that he was passionately fond of attending executions. We
need not therefore be surprised that Selwyn did as others of his
time. Gilly Williams was a kind and good-natured man, yet we find
him writing to Selwyn:

"Harrington's porter was condemned yesterday. Cadogan and I have
already bespoken places at the Braziers, and I hope Parson Digby
will come time enough to be of the party. I presume we shall have
your honour's company, if your stomach is not too squeamish for a
single serving."

Another friend, Henry St. John, begins a letter to Selwyn by telling
how he and his brother went to see an execution. "We had a full
view of Mr. Waistcott as he went to the gallows with a white cockade
in his hat." Not to be wanting in the ordinary courtesies of the
time, Selwyn's correspondent presently remarks, as one nowadays
would do of a day's grouse-shooting: "I hope you have had good sport
at the Place de Greve, to make up for losing the sight of so
notorious a villain as Lady Harrington's porter. Mais laisons la ce
discours triste, and let us talk of the living and lively world."
Selwyn made his world brighter by his wit and pleasantries, and the
sight of an execution did not depress his spirits. "With his strange
and dismal turn," wrote Walpole, "he has infinite fun and humour in
him."* And the author of a social satire blunted his thrusts at
Selwyn by a long explanatory note which concludes with the remark
that "George is a humane man."*

* Letters, vol. ii. 315.

* "The Diaboliad," P. 18. See Chapter 3.

It was Selwyn's fate--and in every generation we find some one of
whom the same may be said--to have his characteristics or foibles
exaggerated. It occurred to him in regard to witticisms and the
sight of executions; he did not complain of this, for he knew it
would be useless, but he disliked to be regarded as an habitual
jester or as possessing an unnatural taste for horrors.*

* "George, as soon as the King had spoken to him, withdrew and went
away, the King then knighted the ambitious squire. The King
afterwards expressed his astonishment to the group-in-waiting that
Mr. Selwyn should not stay to see the ceremony, observing that it
looked so like an execution that he took it for granted Mr. Selwyn
would have stayed to see it. George heard of the joke, but did not
like it: he is, on that subject, still very sore." ("Journals and
Correspondence of Lord Auckland," vol. ii. p. 210).

But another and more widespread habit is often referred to in his
letters. The gambling which Selwyn disapproved, but indulged in for
years, is constantly alluded to in his correspondence. The hold
which this vice had upon nearly every one who regarded himself as
belonging to the best society of London has never been more clearly
and vividly depicted than in Selwyn's letters. It was the protest--
always varying, always taking new forms, but always present--against
the monotony of life. Fortunes were nightly lost at Brooks's and
White's, and substantial sums were gambled away by ladies of
position and of fashion in the most exclusive drawing-rooms in order
to kill time. Selwyn himself was a sagacious and careful man; but he
was nevertheless a moderate gambler; he always perceived the folly
of it; and yet for a great many years, he was constantly risking
part of by no means a large fortune. The green table was the
Stock Exchange and turf of the time, men and women frequented the
clubs and drawing-rooms where the excitement of gambling could be
enjoyed as they now flock to the race-course or telegraph to their
brokers in Throgmorton Street. The nobleman now enjoys his pleasure
side by side with the publican, and his example is followed by his
servants on the course. Gambling in Selwyn's time was more select--a
small society governed England and gambled in St. James's Street,
while in more democratic days peers, members, and constituents
pursue the same excitement together on the race-course or in the
City. Great as were the sums which were lost at commerce, hazard, or
faro, they were less than the training-stable, the betting-ring, and
the stock-jobber now consume; and the same influences which have
destroyed the Whig oligarchy and the King's friends have changed and
enlarged the manner and the habit of gambling in England.

Of Selwyn the humourist it would be easy to collect pages of
witticisms. Walpole's letters alone contain dozens of them, and
there is not a memoir of the eighteenth century in which is not to
be found one of "George's" jokes. Though often happy, as when seeing
Mr. Ponsonby, the Speaker of the Irish Parliament, parting freely
with bank-notes at Newmarket, he remarked, "How easily the Speaker
passes the money bills," or, as when Lord Foley crossed the Channel
to avoid his creditors, he drily observed that it was "a passover
not much relished by the Jews," yet their repetition now is
tiresome.

Manner and appearance assisted his wit, an impassive countenance hid
his humour so that his sallies surprised by their unexpectedness. He
knew how to appropriate opportunity, and saw the humour of a
situation. A reputation for wit is thus gained not only by what is
said, but by the mere indication of the ridiculous. This it is
impossible to reproduce, and the celebrity of Selwyn as a wit must
be allowed to rest on the opinion of his contemporaries.

"Je suis bien eloignee," wrote Madame du Deffand, in 1767, who, of
those who knew him, has left us the most finished portrait, "de
croire M. Selwyn stupide, mais il est souvent dans les espaces
imaginaires. Rien ne le frappe ni le reveille que le ridicule, mais
il l'attrape en volant; il a de la grace et de la finesse dans ce
qu'il dit mais il ne sais pas causer de suite; il est distrait,
indifferent; il s'ennuierait souvent sans une tres bonne recette
qu'il a contre l'ennui, c'est de s'endormir quand il veut. C'est un
talent que je lui envie bien; si je l'avais, j'en ferais grand
usage. Il est malin sans etre mechant; il est officieux, poli; hors
son milord March, il n'aime rien: on ne saurait former aucune
liaison avec lui, mais on est bien aise de l'encontrer, d'etre avec
lui dans le meme chambre, quoi qu'on n'ait rien a lui dire." *

* "Correspondance complete de Mme. du Deffand," vol. i. p. 87.

There is a popular idea that in the eighteenth century England and
France were essentially hostile nations, immemorial enemies, yet at
no time had there been more sympathy between two sections of society
than there existed between the governing and fashionable men and
women of Paris and London; in literature, art, and dress they held
the same opinions. Englishmen braved the Channel and underwent the
fatigue and trouble of the two land journeys with cheerfulness in
order to enjoy the society of St. Germain. They were received not as
strange travellers, but as valued friends.

Of this francophile feeling of the eighteenth century Selwyn was the
most remarkable example. He was as much at home in the salon of Mme.
du Deffand, or at one of President Henault's famous little dinners,
as in the drawing-room of Holland House or the card-room at
Brooks's. He introduced Walpole and Crawford to French society,
adding to the social and literary connection between Paris and
London during a time when political ties were broken. He was a
favourite, too, with the French Queen.* Under date of February 10,
1764, the Earl of March writes to him from Fontainebleau: "The Queen
asked Madame de Mirepoix--si elle n'avoit pas beaucoup entendu me
dire de Monsieur Selwyn et elle? Elle a repondu, oui, beaucoup,
Madame. J'en suis bien aise, dit la Reine."

* Maria Leschitinskey, daughter of Stanislaus, King of Poland, and
Queen of Louis XV.

The correspondence of Mme. du Deffand contains frequent allusions to
the intimacy between the first English and French society of the
period. David Hume, Lord Ossory, Lady Hervey, Lord March, the Duke
of York,* and other well-known English names, are mingled with
Rousseau, Voltaire, d'Alembert, and the Duc and Duchesse de
Choiseul. This oddly assorted company moves in the world of M. de
Maurepas and of the Duc d'Aiguillon, and is seen in the charming
salons of Mme. Geoffrin and Mme. d'Epinay; the beauty of Lady
Pembroke is commented on, the charm of Lady Sarah Bunbury analysed,
Lady Grenville eulogised.

* Edward, Duke of York (1739-1767), brother of George III., visited
Paris the summer of 1767, on his way to Italy, where he died Sept.
17th.

There is an irresistible fascination in the study of the men and
women of the eighteenth century of France and England; they, their
manners and customs, have disappeared for ever, but Gainsborough's
gracious women, Sir Joshua Reynolds's charming types, and Romney's
sensitive heads, have in England immortalised the reign of beauty of
this period; in France the elegance and grace of the time are shown
in the canvases of Greuze, Vanloo, and Fragonard, in the cupids and
doves and garlands which adorned the interiors of Mme. de Pompadour.

It was a time of great intellectual development and progress in both
countries. It was the epoch of the salons, of the philosophers and
encyclopaedists, of a brilliant society whose decadence was hidden
in a garb of seductive gaiety, its egotism and materialism in a
magnificent apparelling of wit and learning. Literary standing in
France at once gave the entree to society of the highest rank and to
circles the most exclusive. David Hume, whose reputation as
philosopher and historian, had been already established there, was
received with enthusiasm when he accompanied Lord Hertford to Paris
as Secretary of Embassy, though his manner, dress, and speech were
awkward and uncouth; but his good-humoured simplicity was accepted
and appreciated as was his learning. He had begun in England a
correspondence with the Comtesse de Boufflers, he was made welcome
too in the salons of Mme. Geoffrin and of Mile, de Lespinasse, and
he soon became intimate with d'Alembert and Turgot. His reception
was no less cordial at court, where the children of the Dauphin met
him, prepared with polite little speeches about his works. He had
such admiration for Rousseau that he brought him to England,
assisting him there in spite of Horace Walpole's ill-natured jest on
the flight of the susceptible French philosopher.

During Burke's visit to Paris in 1773 he was often present at Mme.
du Deffand's supper parties, who said that although he spoke French
with difficulty he was most agreeable; here and at other salons he
met the encyclopaedists and obtained the insight into French morals
and philosophy which, in his case, strengthened conservative
principles.

When "Clarissa Harlowe" appeared in Paris, the book created a
sensation and was more talked of there than in England. Diderot
compared Richardson, as the father of the English novel, to Homer,
father of epic poetry. In England men of letters were far less
recognised in society. Walpole remarked, "You know in England we
read their works, but seldom or never take notice of authors. We
think them sufficiently paid if their books sell, and of course
leave them in their colleges and obscurity, by which means we are
not troubled with their vanity and impatience." But Walpole overdrew
the picture, for though literature did not hold the place in London
that it did in Paris, yet wit was never more appreciated, and
learning added to the equipment of the first of the fine gentlemen
of the time. Of this unique state of society and of international
friendliness Selwyn and his friends were the products. We cannot too
clearly realise them as types which can never recur.

The secret of Selwyn's charm lies in the contrasts of his character;
his versatility and cosmopolitan sympathies attract us now as they
attracted in his lifetime men very different in habits, pursuits,
and mind.

The first Lord Holland, Horace Walpole, the Duke of Queensberry,
each a type of the society of the eighteenth century; the
unscrupulous politician, the cultivated amateur and man of letters,
the sportsman with half the opera dancers in London in his pay--of
all he was the closest friend. The most intimate of them, the Duke
of Queensberry, led an extravagant and a dissipated life, in
contrast with which Selwyn's was homely and simple. He could leave
the gambling table of the club to play with Mie Mie or a schoolboy
from Eton; while his friends were crippled by dice and cards and
became seekers after political places by which they might live, he
was prudent in his play and neither ruined himself nor others. He
had a self-control and a sound sense, which were not common in his
generation; we see them in the tranquil, contemplative eyes of
Reynolds's portraits, ready in a moment to gleam with humour. By
reason of his unfailing good-nature, he was always at the service of
a friend. Himself without ambition, he watched men, not possessed of
his tact and ability, rise to positions which he had never the least
desire to fill. In an age of great political bitterness and the
strongest personal antagonism he continued the tranquil tenor of his
way, amused and amusing, hardly ever put out except by the illness
or the misfortune of a friend. "George Selwyn died this day
se'night," wrote his friend Storer to Lord Auckland; "a more
good-natured man or a more pleasant one never, I believe, existed.
The loss is not only a private one to his friends, but really a
public one to society in general."* Gaiety of temperament and sound
sense, a quick wit and a kind heart, sincerity and love of society,
culture without pedantry, a capacity to enjoy the world in each
stage of life: these are seldom found united in one individual as
they were in George Selwyn, and he is thus for us perhaps the
pleasantest personality of English society in the eighteenth
century.

* "Journal and Correspondence of Lord Auckland," vol. ii. p. 383.




CHAPTER 2. 1767-1769 THE CORRESPONDENCE COMMENCES.

Frederick, fifth Earl of Carlisle--Lady Sarah Bunbury--The Duke of
Grafton--Carlisle, Charles Fox, and the Hollands abroad--Current
events--Card-playing--A dinner at Crawford's--Lady Bolingbroke
--Almack's--The Duke of Bedford--Lord Clive--The Nabobs--Corporation
of Oxford sell the representation of the borough--Madame du Deffand
--Publication of Horace Walpole's "Historic Doubts on Richard the
Third"--Newmarket--London Society--Gambling at the Clubs--A post
promised to Selwyn--Elections--A purchase of wine--Vauxhall.

IN the chapter which contains the earliest of Selwyn's letters to
Frederick, Earl of Carlisle,* something must be said of the
correspondence itself. It was begun in 1767, and most of the letters
which Selwyn wrote to Lord and Lady Carlisle from that date to his
death have been preserved at Castle Howard. The collection is in
many respects unique. It records a great number of facts, many no
doubt small and in themselves unimportant, which, however, in the
aggregate form a lifelike picture of English society in the
eighteenth century. The letters are written in the bright and
unaffected manner which Madame de Sevigne, whose style Selwyn so
much admired, had introduced in France. Filled with human interest
and easily expressed, they differ materially from Walpole's letters
in that they are characterised by a greater simplicity, and a less
egotistical tone. They show a keener interest in his correspondent.
There is in them a delightful frankness, an unconventional
freshness. Walpole's correspondence, invaluable as it is, always
bears traces of the preparation which we know that it received. But
Selwyn, with a light touch, wrote the thoughts and impassions of the
moment, never for effect. Walpole was often thinking of posterity,
Selwyn always of his friends, who were numberless and who were in
their time frequently his correspondents. How numerous Selwyn's
letters must have been we know from the number to him which have
been published; but with the exception of those which have
fortunately been preserved at Castle Howard, his appear to have
perished.

* FREDERICK, FIFTH EARL OF CARLISLE.
1748. Born.
1769. Married Lady Caroline, daughter of Lord Gower.
1777. Treasurer of Household.
1778. Commissioner to America.
1779. Lord of Trade and Plantations.
1780. Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.
1782. Lord Steward.
1783. Lord Privy Seal.
1825. Died.

The frequent French interpolations with which his letters are
interspersed now strike us as affectations. They were, however, a
fashion of the day; nor should we forget that Selwyn spent so much
of his life in Paris that the language came to him as easily as his
own.

In 1767 Selwyn and Carlisle had not long been friends. "Don't lead
your new favourite Carlisle into a scrape," wrote Gilly Williams to
Selwyn in the previous year. The words were written without serious
intent, but they are noticeable because they are so opposite to the
whole course of the rising friendship. The relations of the two men
were remarkable.

It has been well said of Selwyn by a statesman of to-day that he was
a good friend, a fact never better exemplified than in his
friendship with Carlisle. In his affairs he took a greater interest
than would be expected of the nearest of relatives, and with this he
united a singularly warm and open-hearted affection not only for
Carlisle but for his family. It lasted to the day of his death.
There was between them, as Pitt said of his relations with
Wilberforce, a tie of affection and friendship--simple and ingenuous
and unbreakable.

The nobleman who has been referred to simply as Lord Carlisle had
many of the qualities that mark a leader of men. He did not attain,
however, to the eminence as a statesman, man of letters, or in
society which had once been expected of him.

He succeeded to the earldom when ten years of age, following a
father who had shown no disposition for any activities beyond those
of a respectable country gentleman. His grandfather, Charles, third
Earl of Carlisle, had, however, filled an important place in his
day. His local influence in the North was great, and he' was a man
of sufficient capacity and ambition to become a personage of some
position in politics and at court.

There was never a time in English history when the possession of an
ancient name and wide estates gave greater opportunities for taking
a large share in public affairs than when the fifth Earl attained
his majority. It was natural, therefore, that a young man who was
recognised by his friends as above the average should be regarded as
a person of unusual political promise.

In 1775 an offer was made to him of the sinecure post of Lord of the
Bedchamber. He declined it, on the openly declared ground that the
position of an official at Court was such as "damps all views of
ambition which might arise from that quarter." But in 1778 there
came an opportunity of satisfying his public spirit and ambition by
crossing the Atlantic as a peace commissioner to America.

It is a curious historical fact that this mission appears to have
been partially, if not entirely, originated by Carlisle himself. The
story of its inception and the outlines of its progress are told by
Carlisle in a letter preserved at Castle Howard, which he addressed
to his friend and former tutor, Mr. Ekins. It is doubtful if the
King ever really hoped or intended that Carlisle's mission should
have a successful issue. It ended, as history has told, in absolute
failure. Carlisle returned home with the barren honour of good
intentions.

The trying work which he had undertaken entitled Carlisle, however,
to posts of importance at home, and he subsequently filled the high
office of Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, under the administration of
Lord North. When on the resignation of Lord Shelburne, in the year
1783 the memorable and short-lived coalition between Fox and North
was formed, Carlisle became one of the Cabinet as Lord Privy Seal.
With the fall of the Ministry on Fox's India Bill in the same year,
Carlisle's official life ended. No public man who attains to Cabinet
rank can be regarded as a failure, and it may be that he was
satisfied with what he had achieved by the age of five-and-thirty.
With a versatility and serenity rare among those who have once felt
the pleasure and excitement of political power and responsibility,
he turned to literature, and at Castle Howard and Naworth he
produced poems and dramas which, in spite of Byron's sharp attack,
who thus avenged himself for the inattention of his guardian on his
entrance to public life,* though they have had no posthumous fame,
gave him a reputation in his day as a man of letters, which was
probably a higher satisfaction than would have been the rewards of a
political career alone. And it threw him into closer connection with
men of literary and artistic tastes and aims. Of his writings the
poem addressed to Reynolds on his resignation of the Presidency of
the Royal Academy is perhaps that which is best worth recollecting.
Carlisle's cultivated mind made him always a liberal patron, and at
the sale of the celebrated Orleans collection of paintings he bought
the greater part.

* Carlisle and Byron were not only guardian and ward, but were
nearly related; it is a singular fact that Carlisle declined to
introduce him in the house of Lords.

Selwyn's letters open with the departure of Lord Carlisle for the
Continent. The young peer was then not quite twenty, but had fallen
desperately in love with Lady Sarah Bunbury. This beautiful and
attractive woman had half London at her feet, including the King.
For obvious constitutional reasons it was impossible for him to
marry her, but day after day the town told how he used to ride to
and fro in front of Holland House to catch a glimpse of Lady Sarah.
At the drawing room after the royal marriage, at which, by the wish
of the King, she was first bridesmaid, Lord Westmoreland, who was an
adherent of the Stuarts, knelt to Lady Sarah, mistaking her for the
Queen. Selwyn said "the lady in waiting should [must] have told him
that she was the Pretender."*

* "Memoirs of third Duke of Grafton," p. 33.

Paris was no more able to resist her than London. "Votre milady
Sarah a en un succes prodigieux; toute notre belle jeunesse en a eu
la tete tournee, sans la trouver fort jolie, toutes les principantes
et les divinites du temple l'ont recherchee avec une grande
emulation. Je ne l'ai point vue assez de suite pour avoir pu bien
demeler ce qu'on doit pensez d'elle; je la trouve aimable, elle est
douce, vive et polie. Dans notre nation elle passerait pour etre
coquette. Je ne crois pas qu'elle le soit; elle aime a se divertir;
elle a pu etre flattee de tous les empressements qu'on lui a
marquees, et je soupconne qu'elle s'y est livree plus pour
l'apparence que par un gout veritable. Je lui ai soupconne quelques
motifs cachees, et je lui crois assez d'esprit pour avoir trouve nos
jeunes gens bien sots. Si vous etes de ses amies, elle vous dira ce
qui en est."*

* "Correspondance complete du Mme. du Deffand," vol. i. P87.

The letters for the succeeding year contain frequent references to
Carlisle's youthful passion. Lord Holland had taken his family
abroad, and Charles James Fox, whose brilliant public career
Carlisle had foretold in verse at Eton, was a congenial companion
during a part of his continental travels.

Carlisle at this epoch of his life is an interesting study. Here is
a boy of nineteen voluntarily leaving home because of a fascinating
woman; he is anxiously awaiting the delayed green ribbon, and his
investiture by the King of Sardinia. He is in close association with
the foremost men of that and a later day. For three days he is
crossing the Alps, a journey filled with as many hopes or fears of
adventure as could have befallen one a century earlier.

At the time when the correspondence begins, Selwyn's friend, the
third Duke of Grafton, was virtually Prime Minister, or as it was
then termed, "principal Minister," for the personal ministerial
responsibility of the head of the Government was, in the days of
Chatham, Grafton, and North, less distinct and less recognised than
in the nineteenth century. Chatham still held the office of Lord
Privy Seal, which he had accepted on the formation of his Ministry
in 1766. But by this time ill-health had rendered him unable to take
any part in public affairs. In October, 1768, Chatham resigned
office, and Grafton became the recognised head of a Ministry the
policy of which he was incapable either of formulating or directing;
and when in January, 1770, Grafton resigned office and handed over
the Ministry to Lord North, it released him from a trying and
irksome position.

Kindly and shrewd in worldly affairs, and well intentioned as a
politician, but wholly lacking in strength of purpose, the third
Duke of Grafton was a man who obtained the goodwill and lost the
respect of his contemporaries. Between Selwyn and him there existed
a cordial friendship, of which there are many evidences in these
letters.

It is time, however, to let the correspondence speak for itself; as
has been already said, Carlisle was now at Nice.

[1767,] Dec. 29, Tuesday, de mon Chateau de Tonderdentronk.(1)--I
received your letter of the 8th and 10th, that is, one part wrote at
Antibes, the other at Nice, here yesterday, which gave me every
degree of pleasure and satisfaction that a letter can give; it could
never have come more seasonably, than when I cannot possibly, from
the snow without doors, and the Aldermen(2) within, have any other
pleasure.

As I am well furnished with maps, I had recourse to them to follow
you in your travels, and had besides the pleasure of hearing that
you were well, and knowing exactly where you are, which was an
occupation for the whole morning. The Antiquities of France have
furnished me with the knowledge of some places through which you
have passed. Mme de Sevigne(3) did, long ago, bring me acquainted
with others; and sure I am that when she was at Rochers, she could
not think more of the Pont de Garde than I should have done, if I
had known of your being there.

If you do me the honour to give me in future letters so much detail,
I shall be infinitely happy. You may be assured that I shall not
communicate a letter of yours to any one, not even to L(ady)
S(arah),(4) who hinted to me she wanted to see your last, without
your leave; but as for burning them directly, I cannot in your
absence resolve upon that; je les conserverai pretieusement till
your return, and that is all I can promise without your very express
commands.

The accident that had like to have happened to you and Charles(5) ma
fait glacer le sang. I hope it was not Robert that was so heedless.
But that, the wild boars, the Alps, precipices, felouques, changes
of climate, are all to me such things as, besides that they
grossissent de loin, that if I allowed my imagination its full
scope, I should not have a moment's peace.

I shall think no more of anything that may happen unfortunately
either to you or me for the next twelve months, than I do in passing
from Dover to Calais of the one-inch plank that is between me and
Eternity. I have assured myself that as long as the time will appear
in passing now, I shall think some time hence its progress not so
slow, and I will not add imaginary to real evils, by supposing it
possible that I shall not meet you again.

I came down here on this day sevennight, and could I have walked
Out--but the deep snow has prevented that--I should have passed my
time among my workmen tolerably well.

Lord Lisbourne(6) and Williams(7) were to have come with me, but
disappointed me. His lordship was hunting a mare's nest, as they
say, and fancied he should be this week nominated either of the
Admiralty or Board of Trade. He is fututo de, and Lord Ch[arle]s
Spencer(8) is of the first, and no vacancy in the other.

Vernon(9) has Fanshaw's place at the Green Cloth, and this Greasy
Cook dismissed with a sop, but of what sort I know not; however, he
thinks himself happy that a dish-clout was not pinned to his tail.
March(10) is passing Xmas between Lord Spencer's and the Duke of
Grafton's.(11) There is no Oubourn;(12) that family has been
occupied, and is now, between recovering a little of his Grace's
sight, and niggling themselves into Administration.

I believe I told you of Crawfurd's(13) preferment in my
letter of last Friday sevennight. I shall return to London the end
of this week, and go in search of further news for your
entertainment. The journal which you suppose me to keep is no other
than minutes I make of what I hear. When you come back from your
travels my office of journalist will cease.

I have no one with me but Raton,(14) but he is in great health and
beauty. I'm sorry that you told me nothing of poor Rover; pray bring
him back if you can, and don't let a Cardinal or any other dog stick
it into him.

I find my affairs here, which you are so good as to enquire after,
much as I expected them. The needy and tumultuous part of my
constituents are daily employed more and more, as the time of
election approaches, to find me a competitor, and put me, if they
cannot, to a needless expense, but I believe their schemes will be
abortive as to the main design; and as to money, I must expect to
see a great deal of it liquified and in streams about the streets of
the neighbouring city.

Morpeth I hope will be settled to your satisfaction for this time by
the help of the Duke of Grafton, and in all future times by no means
but what are in your hands. I hope as soon as I come to town to find
the St. Andrew(15) ready to be sent, and shall by this post send a
quickner to Hemmins; if a courier goes before I come, I hope he will
carry it. Lady Carlisle(16) was to go and see it. I take it for
granted that Sir W. Musgrave(17) will have an eye to the courier's
going. I believe, at least the papers say so, the other two Ribbands
are given away; so yours must be dispatched, of course. What would I
not give to see your Investiture! What indeed would I not give to be
with you on more occasions than that! I know nobody but Charles that
I should not envy that pleasure, but il en est tres digne by knowing
the value of it.

I shall be in pain till I hear again concerning Lord Holland(18); il
fait une belle defense, mais il en demeure la a ce qu'il me paroit;
I see nothing like a re-establishment. Ses jours sont comptes au
pied de la lettre. I beg my best and kindest compliments to him,
Lady Holland,(19) and to Charles, to whom I wrote by the last post.
I desired him to do me the favour to stick a pen now and then into
your hand, that I might hear often from you. I shall be extremely
glad to have some of your observations upon the places to which you
go; but if that takes up too much time, I shall be contented to know
that you are not any more within pistol-shot.

Lord Beauchamp(20) trains on well, as they say, but il n'a pas le
moyen de plaire. Lord Holl[an]d's criticism upon Beauc[hamp] is not
just; he will get nine daughters if he goes on as he does, before
me; and I thought once it was a hard-run thing between us.

Poor Lady Bol(ingbroke),(21) quelle triste perspective pour elle!
J'en suis veritablement touche. Adieu, my dear Lord, pour
aujourd'hui. God preserve you from boars of any kind, but one, which
is the writer of a long letter; for mine to you cannot be short, or
ever long enough to tell you how sincerely and affectionately I am
your Lordship's.

(1) Writing from Matson.

(2) Of Gloucester.

(3) Selwyn rivalled Walpole as an ardent admirer of Mme.  de Sevigne
(1626-1696) through her "Letters"; he read them assiduously, and
passionately collected any information relating to her; prizing the
smallest object that had once been hers as a precious relic.

(4) Lady Sarah Bunbury (1745-1826), youngest daughter of Charles
Lennox, second Duke of Richmond; great granddaughter of Charles II.;
sister to Lady Holland, Lady Louisa Conolly, and Lady Emily,
Duchess of Leinster; divorced from her first husband, Sir Charles
Bunbury, the well-known racing baronet, in 1776; married, for the
second time, George Napier, sixth son of Francis, fifth Lord Napier,
in 1702; mother of the distinguished soldiers, Sir Charles James
Napier, Sir George Thomas Napier, and Sir William Francis Napier,
the historian of the Peninsular War. Constitutional reasons alone
prevented George III. from marrying her; he settled 1,000 pounds a
year on her at Napier's death in 1807. She was quite blind when she
died.

(5) Charles, whenever the name occurs, refers to Charles James Fox
(1749-1806). He entered Parliament at nineteen; at twenty was made a
Lord of the Admiralty; in 1773 a Commissioner of the Treasury; in
1782 Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in the Rockingham
Ministry; in 1783 he became again Secretary of State in the
memorable Coalition Ministry formed by himself and Lord North
under the nominal premiership of the Duke of Portland. When the
Whigs at length returned to power in 1806 he was again Secretary for
Foreign Affairs in Lord Grenville's Ministry of all the Talents, and
died in office. No statesman so little in office ever obtained so
great influence in Parliament and in the country.

(6) Wilmot, fourth Viscount Lisbourne.

(7) George James Williams, commonly known as Gilly Williams
(1716-1805), son of William Peere Williams, an eminent lawyer; uncle
by marriage to Lord North; appointed Receiver-General of Excise in
1774. It was he of whom it was said that he was wittiest among the
witty and gayest among the gay, and his society was much sought
after. He and Edgecumbe, with Selwyn, met at Strawberry Hill at
stated periods, forming the famous group--Walpole's "out-of-town
party."

(8) Lord Charles Spencer (1740-1820); second son of third Duke of
Marlborough; M.P. for Oxfordshire 1761-1784, and again 1796-1801;
filled from time to time several minor political offices.

(9) Richard Vernon (1726-1800), termed father of the turf. He was a
captain in the army and a Member of Parliament; it was as a sporting
man, however, that he was best known. One of the original members of
the Jockey Club, he had a racing partnership with Lord March, and
rode in races. His skill at cards and on the turf afforded the means
for extravagant living. He married the youngest daughter of the
first Earl Gower.

(10) William Douglas (1725-1810), third Earl of March and fourth
Duke of Queensberry, in his later years called "Old Q." He was
appointed a Lord of the Bedchamber on the accession of George III.,
and in 1767 made Vice-Admiral of Scotland. Pleasure in all its forms
was the sole object of his life, regardless of public opinion; he
was good-natured and shrewd, and not without interest in politics
and literature. At the time of the King's madness, in 1788, he
openly declared for the Prince of Wales, and voted for the regency;
he entertained the princes and Fox with reckless prodigality until
the King regained his reason, when he lost his place at Court, and
prudently retired to Scotland for a time. Among Selwyn's many
friends the Duke of Queensberry held the first place. "Hors son
milord March, il n'amie rien," writes Mme. du Deffand, in her
portrait of Selwyn, whose unentailed property was left to the Duke
of Queensberry, and who survived his friend by nineteen years.

(11) Augustus Henry, third Duke of Grafton (1735-1811). In 1766 he
became First Lord of the Treasury in Lord Chatham's Ministry,
resigning in January, 1770; and in 1771 Lord Privy Seal in Lord
North's Government, stipulating at the same time that he should not
be "summoned to any Cabinet." He resigned in 1775, but joined the
Rockingham Ministry in 1782 as Lord Privy Seal. On the formation of
the Coalition Ministry of North and Fox, in 1783, Grafton left
office for the last time.

(12) Woburn.

(13) James Crawford of Auchinames, Renfrewshire. He belonged to the
group of fashionable young men who frequented the clubs and played
heavily. He was a Member of Parliament. In 1769 he accompanied
Charles Fox abroad, and the following year visited Voltaire at
Ferney. He was a correspondent of David Hume and of Mme. du Deffand,
who always referred to him affectionately as "Mon petit Crauford";
in a letter in which she urges her desire that he should become more
intimate with Horace Walpole, she writes, "Vous etes melancholique,
et lui est gai; tout l'amuse et tout vous ennuie." Crawford was
called the Fish at Eton, a name which clung to him throughout life.
He had wit and vivacity, but the reputation of being affected,
insincere, and jealous. Much of his life was passed abroad. He died
in London in 1814.

(14) Raton was a present from Lady Coventry, and Selwyn was much
attached to him. Sir Joshua Reynolds introduced him in his portrait
of Selwyn and Lord Carlisle which is at Castle Howard.

(15) The Order of the Thistle had just been conferred on Carlisle.

(16) Isabella, Countess of Carlisle (1721-1795); daughter of fourth
Lord Byron. In 1743 she became the second wife of the fourth Earl of
Carlisle, who died in 1758, and was the mother of the fifth Earl. In
1759 she married Sir William Musgrave.

(17) Sir William Musgrave (died 1800), of Hayton Castle, Cumberland.
Commissioner of Customs and a well-known personage in London
Society. He was Vice-President of the Royal Society, and filled many
useful offices.

(18) Henry Fox, first Baron Holland (1705-1774); Secretary for War,
1746; Secretary of State, 1735 Paymaster General, 1757; Leader of
the House of Commons, 1762; created Baron Holland, 1763. He had at
this time gone abroad for his health.

(19) Lady Holland (1723-1774); eldest daughter of Charles, second
Duke of Richmond. Her runaway marriage to Lord Holland, then Mr.
Fox, which, however, proved very happy, created much talk at the
time.

(20) Francis Seymour (1743-1822); son of Francis, Earl of Hertford,
afterwards second Marquis of Hertford.

(21) Lady Diana Bolingbroke (1734-1808); eldest daughter of second
Duke of Marlborough; sister to Lady Pembroke. She was celebrated for
her high character, beauty, and accomplishments. Two days after her
unhappy marriage with Lord Bolingbroke was dissolved she married
Topham Beauclerk.


1768, Jan. 5, Tuesday morning, Chesterfield Street.--Many and many
happy new years to you, some of which I hope to have the pleasure of
being a witness of. When I came to town yesterday from
Gloucestershire, I received, to my surprise and great satisfaction,
your letter of the 16th of last month, for this is now the second
which I have had within a week beyond my expectation.

My answer to the first is now on the road to you, and will, I hope,
reach you some time next week. I don't recollect in any which I have
wrote that there was any expression of formality, which you seem to
have observed, and which I certainly did not intend, because I know
it would not be acceptable to you; and therefore don't interpret
that to be formality, which can be nothing but that respect, which
no degree of familiarity can ever make me lose in my commerce with
you.

I was surprised to find that Sir Ch[arle]s and Lady Sarah [Bunbury]
were in town, and had not been out of it. The weather has been and
is so cold there is no stirring from one's fireside, and so they
changed their mind. I dine with them to-day, when I hope I shall see
Harry; I have not seen him yet. I have been absent, it is now above
a fortnight. I shall not seal up my letter till I have been in Privy
Garden. I was asked to dine at Lord George's(22) to-day, but am glad
that, it being postday, I can dine where I may be able to pick up
something that will be interesting to you. I don't wish to add fuel,
but it is natural to wish that one's letters are made as acceptable
as possible.

I have had a message to-day from Sir W. Musgrave, who desires to see
me to-morrow; I will endeavour to see him to-day, as the post goes
out; I don't know particularly what he has to say. I have sent to
Hemmins this morning, but he is not yet come to me.

Lord W. Gordon(23) says he thinks his brother will ask for the other
Ribband. I long to see the Duke of Buccleugh(24) in his. I can tell
you no more at present of Brereton's(25) affair than that he is to
be prosecuted. I send you his advertisement, which came out a
fortnight ago. I think some answer should have been made to it;
although I think the controversy very unequal, and a paper war with
such a low fellow very disagreeable. But the assertions in this
advertisement will gain him credit. As I live with but one set of
people, I do not hear all the animadversions that are made upon this
affair, but I believe there is a certain monde where my two friends
pass but for very scrubby people; a bold assertion, and a great deal
of dirt thrown, although by a very mean hand, must inevitably have a
disagreeable effect.

The night robberies are very frequent. Polly Jones, my neighbour,
was a few nights ago stopped, when the chair was set down at
Bully's(26) door, and she robbed of 12 guineas.

Lady Bolingbroke has sent her resignation to the Queen, who wrote
her a very gracious letter upon it. Bully kisses hand[s] to-morrow;
the others soon after. Lord Gower(27) is the only one who has kissed
hands as yet. Fanshaw is not to be in Parliament, so there is so
much money saved to him, and his pension consequently in greater
security.

I am glad that there is so much care taken of Rover. I think, if he
has the good fortune to survive Alps, &c., and ever come to Castle
Howard, that he has an establishment for life, and may be a
toad-eater of Stumpy's.

I had a letter yesterday from Sir J. Lambert,(28) who says he can
contrive to send the Badge safely. I hope he sends my letters
regularly. March is still at Lord Spencer's, where he amuses
himself, as he tells me, excessively.

I will write more after dinner, when I hope to be more amusing to
you. I am glad for your sake and mine that they are still in town. I
shall not forget to faire valoir tous vos beaux sentiment. I'm
persuaded that I shall not be thought borish upon that subject.

Lord March's election at the Old(29) is to be to-night, if you can
call a constant ejectment an election. I thank you for your offer of
a Circassian in case you travel into Greece; you must suppose me to
be like the Glastonbury Thorn, to receive any benefit by it.

I am also much obliged to you for your hint about Hazard. Foolish,
very foolish it is I grant you, and if anything was prevalent enough
with me to relinquish so old and pernicious a practice, it would be
your condemnation of it. Heureusement pour moi, the occasion fails
me more than my prudence would serve me, if that offered. The rage
there is for Quinze is my great security. Can you forgive these
borish letters; can you excuse my leaving you to go and sup with Sir
Ch[arle]s in Privy Garden?

My dear Lord, you have been very kind in writing so often to me; the
only mischief of it to me will be, that you will have accustomed me
to that which I cannot expect, when you are no longer in that state
of retreat and indolence in which you have been at Nice. I owe much
to your friendship and great complaisance on all occasions, but I
cannot expect to interfere with what will occupy you in those places
with so much reason. However, whatever you are, I hope I may have
leave to assure you from time to time how truly and affectionately I
am, and ever shall be yours.

I should be glad to know if all my letters have come to your hands.


(22) George Sackville Germaine (1716-1785); known from 1720 to
1770 as Lord George Sackville, from 1770 to 1782 as Lord George
Germaine; son of the seventh Earl and first Duke of Dorset. A Member
of Parliament and a soldier, he became in 1775 Secretary of State
for the Colonies in Lord North's Administration until the fall of
his chief. His rise to the peerage in 1782 as Viscount Sackville
gave cause to some acrimonious debates, which are referred to later,
see Chapter 5. The Letters of Junius have often been ascribed to
Sackville's pen.

(23) Lord William Gordon; brother of the fourth Duke of Gordon and
of Lord George of the Gordon Riots fame. He was Ranger of Windsor
Park.

(24) Henry, third Duke of Buccleugh (1746-1812); eulogised in Lord
Carlisle's well-known verses on his Eton schoolfellows. He succeeded
as fifth Duke of Queensberry in 1810.

(25) Colonel Brereton on leaving the army had become a gambler of
doubtful reputation.

(26) Frederick St. John, second Viscount Bolingbroke (1734-1787);
known among his friends as "Bully." He succeeded his uncle, the
famous Henry St. John, in 1751, and married in 1757 Lady Diana
Spencer, daughter of the third Duke of Marlborough; the marriage was
dissolved in 1768. He married secondly, in 1793, Arabella, daughter
of the sixth Lord Craven.

(27) Granville, second Earl Gower, first Marquis of Stafford
(1721-1803). Appointed a Lord of the Admiralty in 1749, and resigned
in 1751; having filled various court offices he became in 1767
President of the Council. He resigned in 1779. Upon Pitt's accession
to power in 1783 he became again Lord President of the Council; in
1784 left this office and was appointed Lord Privy Seal; in 1786
created Marquis of Stafford; in 1794 resigned the office of Privy
Seal. At first opposed to America's independence, he later declared
against the war. He was the father of Lady Carlisle.

(28) English banker in Paris.

(29) A club at White's Coffee House in St. James's Street was formed
in 1730. About 1745 so many gentlemen were waiting for admission to
its membership, that a second club, known as The Young Club at
White's, was established. It had the same rules and was in the same
house as the Old Club, the members of which were usually selected
from the younger society. In 1781 the Old and Young Club: were
united, and have since been known as White's Club.



[1768,] Jan. 12, Tuesday morning.--I went to White's to enquire
after your ticket, and found The Button with a letter in his hand,
which he desired me to direct to you. It was only to tell you that
your ticket was a blank: it came up the 2nd instant.

Mr. Walpole's book(30) will not be out this month; I will send it by
the first opportunity I can find. Pray let me know if you have
received Hume's Hist[ory],(31) that Lord Pembroke(32) was to carry
for you to Sir J. Lamb[er]t. The apology for Lord B., that is, Lord
Baltimore,(33) I sent for, but it contained nothing to the purpose,
and it was a title formed to draw people in.

I dined at Crawfurd's on Saturday; there were Robinson, Sackville,
and R[ichar]d Fitzpatrick,(34) who a la suite d'une heure, has been
attacked with the rheumatism, and looks wretchedly, and quite
decrepid. I went afterwards and sat an hour with poor Lady
Bol[ingbroke]; she was very easy and cheerful, et avec une
insensibilite qui m'en donneroit pour elle; but that cannot be. She
told me she had a favour to ask of me, which was, that I would use
my endeavours that she might see her children. Bully is at present
out of town, but to be sure, I shall have no difficulty in that
negotiation. I have supped at Lady S. several times, and last night
went home with her and Miss B. from the play. Je profite de certains
momens pour vous rappeller a son souvenir, if that was necessary;
they are to dine here, but have not fixed the day. Little Harry and
his French friend are at Mrs. Blake's in the country. Sir C. will
make him write to you when he returns. Lady Hertford(35) is actually
(as Lady S. told me last night) Lady of the B[edchamber].

I expect Sir W. Musgrave to call upon me at three to take measures
about the courier, and Hemmins has promised to bring me the Badge at
two. I shall then have more to say upon those points. Parker(36)
gave us a great dinner, but the company was not numerous. I dine
to-morrow at Lord Harrington's,(37) and, I am told, with the new
Ministers.(38) I had a little supper at Lady Harrington's(39) on
Sunday, en famille; Lord and Lady Barrymore(40) were there. She goes
on with her pregnancy.

I found Beauc. sitting with his future,(41) en habit de gala; he
soon went away to the Opera, so I had a tete a tete. Mr. Radclif(42)
is still talked of for Lady F., but I have not asked Sir Will[ia]m
Mus[grave] if it is true. He is very well spoke of, et le nom est
assez beau.

Quinze goes on vigorously at Almack's.(43) Lady S. says
that you have fixed your coming of age as an epoque for leaving off
that and all kind of play whatsoever. My dear Lord, vive hodie;
don't nurse any passion that gathers strength by time, and may be
easier broke of at first. I am in hopes indeed that when you are
maitre de vos biens, as the French say, you will not invite Scot,
Parker, or Shafto(44) to partake it with you. Your condition of
life, and the necessary expenses of it, will not allow that
coalition. I never kept so long from play yet, but I frankly own I
have not much virtue to boast of by that continency. I know of no
good opportunity which I have resisted. St. John(45) told me at the
play last night that you was to go and return from Turin alone. I
hope that is not so; I shall be very angry with Robert, if he does
not take great care both of you and Rover. I will finish the rest
when I have seen Sir William.

Tuesday night.--Sir W[illia]m sent me word he did not call upon me
to-day because he could not settle with the courier till Thursday;
and Hemmins did call, and assured me that on Thursday the Badge
should be ready. I scolded till I was in a fever; I believe he will
not venture to put me off any longer.

(30) "Historic Doubts on Richard the Third."

(31) The best English history that had been written up to that time,
and the first that made any attempt to literary merit. The first
edition was published at intervals from 1754 to 1761. A second
edition had been issued in 1762.

(32) Henry, tenth Earl of Pembroke (1734-1794). He married in
1756 Elizabeth, second daughter of the third Duke of Marlborough.

(33) Lord Baltimore had been acquitted of the charge of abduction
which had been brought against him, but the prosecution brought
forward facts sufficient to justify the public indignation that was
raised. He soon after went abroad, and died in Naples in 1771.

(34) Richard Fitzpatrick (1747-1813); second son of John, first
Earl of Upper Ossory and Lady Evelyn Leveson Gower, daughter of
second Earl Gower. His sister, Lady Mary Fitzpatrick, married
Charles James Fox's elder brother, Stephen, afterward second Lord
Holland. Fitzpatrick is one of the best known names in the history
of the social life of the last half of the eighteenth century--the
Duke of Queensberry left him a legacy in recognition of his fine
manners. He was the talented and accomplished friend of Fox, whose
excesses in gaming and in all the fashionable follies of the day he
rivalled. He served with credit in the American war; in 1780 was
returned to Parliament; in 1782 appointed secretary to the Duke of
Portland, then Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland; in 1783 made Secretary at
War. At his death he was a Privy Councillor, a general in the army,
and colonel of the Forty-seventh Regiment of Foot.

(35) Lady Isabella Fitzroy, youngest daughter of Charles, second
Duke of Grafton. She married in 1741 Francis, first Marquis of
Hertford.

(36) George Lane Parker(1724-1791), second son of George, second
Earl of Macclesfield. He became a general and a Member of
Parliament.

(37) William Wildman, second Viscount Barrington (1717-1793). He
filled various high official and court offices; he was a Chancellor
of the Exchequer in 1761, and subsequently Secretary at War.

(38) The Bedford faction effected a junction with the Government at
the end of 1767, and Lord Sandwich, and Lord Weymouth, and Rigby
entered the Ministry.

(39)5 Caroline Fitzroy, eldest daughter of the second Duke of
Grafton. She married Lord Petersham, second Earl of Harrington in
1746.

(40) Richard Barry (1745-1773) succeeded as sixth Earl of Barrymore
at six years of age. He married Lady Stanhope, daughter of William,
Earl of Harrington. He was notorious as a skilful gambler. He is
said to have been an excellent officer, holding a captain's
commission at the time of his death.

(41) Alice Elizabeth, youngest daughter and co-heir of Herbert,
second Viscount Windsor. She married Lord Beauchamp that year.

(42) John Radcliffc married Lady Frances Howard, Lord Carlisle's
sister.

(43) Almack's Club was established by Macall in 1764. It was
subsequently taken over by a wine merchant named Brooks and was
thenceforward known as Brooks's. This club was primarily formed for
the purpose of high play; one of the rules reads: "Every person
playing at the new quinze table shall keep fifty guineas before
him." At play it was the fashion to wear a great coat, sometimes
turned inside out for luck; the lace ruffles were covered by a
leathern bib. Broadbrimmed high hats, trimmed with ribbon and
flowers, completed a proper gaming costume.

(44) Robert Shafto of Whitworth, M.P. for Durham--fond of racing and
betting.

(45) Henry St. John, called "the Baptist," was a brother of "Bully,"
second Viscount Bolingbroke. Horace Walpole writes of them as Lord
Corydon and Captain Corydon. He was a Groom of the Bedchamber, a
Member of Parliament, and a colonel in the army. He was a man of
wit, universally popular.


[1768,] Jan. 15, Friday morning.--We are at this moment in some
alarm about you, which I hope to find has been given without any
foundation; however, en tous cas, I hope this will find you at Nice,
and not at Turin, where Lady Carlisle has been told there is a
contagious disorder. You are near enough that place to have better
intelligence than we.

I dine(d) with the Duke of Grafton the day before yesterday at Lord
Barrington's, who assured me the death of Mr. Shirley would not
occasion any delay in regard to you. Sir W[illiam] M[usgrave] and I
have been contriving how to save you the price of the courier,
which, for going and coming, is above 150 pounds. I shall apply to
Lord Clive(46) through his former secretary, my neighbour Mr. Walsh.
Lord Clive is going to Nice, although I suppose by a slow progress,
and can supply this courier's place, a pas de tortue, that will not
be inconvenient if you don't leave Nice immediately; if you do, a
more expeditious method may be thought of. But I am very desirous of
adding no more expense to that which this Order will cost you.

Almack's was last night very full; Lady Anne and Lady Betty(47) were
there with Lady Carlisle. The Duke of Cumb[erlan]d(48) sat between
Lady Betty and Lady Sarah, who was his partner. Lady Sarah, your
sister, and His R[oyal] H[ighness] did nothing but dance cotillons
in the new blue damask room, which by the way was intended for
cards. The Duchess of Gordon(49) made her first appearance there,
who is very handsome; so the beauty of the former night, Lady
Almeria Carpenter,(50) was the less regarded. We will follow, if you
please, the veteris vestigia flamme.

There has (sic) been no events this week that I know of, except his
Grace of Bedford's(51) appearance at Court. His eyes are a ghastly
object. He seems blind himself, and makes every [one] else so that
looks at him. They have no speculation in them, as Shakespear says;
what should be white is red, and there is no sight or crystal, only
a black spot. It alters his countenance, and he looks like a man in
a tragedy, as in K[ing] Lear, that has had his eyes put out with a
fer rouge.

I dined yesterday at Lady Sarah's with Mr. and Mrs. Garrick.(52) I
say as much as I can of Lady Sarah, and her name shall be in every
other line, if it will excuse the borishness of my letters in other
particulars.

March leaves Lord Spencer's to-day. He and Varcy like [lie] to-night
at St. Alban's, and are to be in town to-morrow. The Northampton
Election will cost God knows what. I dine to-day at Ossory's.(53)
Lady Sarah, Miss Blake, Sir Ch[arles], &c., Sec., dine here on
Tuesday. I chose that, being a post day.

I believe that the best thing I can do is to ask Lord Shelbourne(54)
for the courier's place. I should be glad of it, if it was tenable
with my seat in Parliament. Sir G. Mac sat last night at supper
between Lady Bute(55) and his future, who by the way is laide a
faire peur. I was asking Lady Carlisle which was the most likely,
some years ago, to have a Blue Ribband, du beau-pere et du gendre.

Little Harry is not come to town. Sir Charles goes down into the
country next week, but not Lady Sarah that I know of. I expect
Hemmins every hour with the St. Andrew. He has so much abuse from me
every day, that I believe he wishes that I had been crucified
instead of St. Andrew. He swears that one man left the work in the
middle of it, and said he would not have his eyes put out in placing
those small diamonds that compose the motto.

Mr. Brereton is returned to the Bath, and the street robbers seem
dispersed. The hard weather is gone for the present, so that London
will be pleasanter than it has been, for the Jockeys and
Macaronis.(56) Garrick criticised your picture of mine, which he saw
at Humphry's; he has that and Sir Charles's; it is like, but not so
good and spirited a likeness as Reynolds's(57) certainly. But I am
much obliged to you for it. If you sit to Pompeio I shall hope to
have a better, and with your Order.

The Duke of Cumb[erlan]d attacked the Duke of Buccleugh last night
for wearing his under his coat; son Altesse R. a une bovardise fort
intiressante il faut lui rendre justice.

I should not have troubled you so soon if this alarm from Turin, and
the courier, &c., had not filled my head. My best compliments to
Lord and Lady Holland and my love to Charles and Harry.(58) Charles
is in my debt a letter; I shall be glad to hear from him. Crawfurd
desired me to make his (ex)cuses to you, that he has not answered
your last; he gains no ground; I think he is immaigri, et d'une
inquietude perpetuelle qui porte sur rien.

The Duke of N[ewcast]le(59) seems to have gained strength and life
since that manly resolution which he took last week of being no
longer a Minister of this country. Let what would happen, he has
given a conge to his friends to do what they will, and it shall not
be looked upon as desertion. That is undoubtedly the most capital
simpleton that ever the caprice of fortune placed in the high
offices which he filled, and for so long a time.

The last paragraph of this letter can scarcely belong to this date,
for the Duke of Newcastle was not in Chatham's Ministry, which was
formed on the fall of the first Rockingham Administration in July,
1766.

(46) Lord Clive had recently returned from India in bad health. He
lived, however, till 1774.

(47) Sisters of Lord Carlisle.

(48) Henry Frederick, younger brother of George III.; notorious for
his dissipation.

(49) Jane Maxwell, Duchess of Gordon, wife of Alexander, fourth
Duke. She was a social leader of the Tory party, and a confidante of
Pitt. Horace Walpole called her "one of the empresses of fashion."

(50) Lady Almeria Carpenter was famous for her beauty. She was
lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of Gloucester and mistress to the
Duke. "The Duchess remained indeed its nominal mistress, but Lady
Almeria constituted its ornament and its pride." (Wraxall, vol. v.
p. 201).

(51) John Russell, fourth Duke of Bedford (1710-71), died 1756. He
was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in 1762; he went as
Ambassador to Paris, where he negotiated the unpopular Treaty of
Paris. He was at the head of the place-seeking politicians called
the Bloomsbury Gang, from his town house in Bloomsbury Square; and
when, in 1767, his faction came into power, the Duke of Bedford,
who was worthy of better clients, made a feeble effort to arrive at
an understanding with Lord Rockingham about a common policy; but he
could not keep his followers for five minutes together off the
subject that was next their hearts. Rigby bade the two noblemen take
the Court Calendar and give their friends one, two, and three
thousand a year all round ("The Early History of Charles James Fox,"
p. 132). An overbearing manner and the character of his followers
made him unpopular. In 1731 he married Lady Diana Spencer, daughter
of the third Earl of Sunderland, and sister of the third Duke of
Marlborough. He married for the second time, in 1737, Gertrude,
eldest daughter of the first Earl Gower. At the death of their only
son, Lord Tavistock, in 1767, the Duke and Duchess of Bedford were
harshly charged with want of respect for his memory.

(52) David Garrick (1717-79). In 1749 he married Eva Marie Violette,
of Vienna, a dancer who had been received in the best houses in
England. "I think I never saw such perfect affection and harmony as
existed between them" (Dr. Beattie). Selwyn criticised disparagingly
his Othello.

(53) John, second Earl of Upper Ossory (1745-1818). He was the
brother of Richard Fitzpatrick and of Mary Fitzpatrick, wife of the
second Lord Holland. He was educated at Eton and Oxford. "The man I
have liked the best in Paris is an Englishman, Lord Ossory, who is
the most sensible young man I ever saw" ("Walpole's Letters," vol.
iv. p. 426). He married Annie, daughter of Lord Ravensworth, shortly
after her divorce from the Duke of Grafton.

(54) William Petty, second Earl of Shelburne (1737-1805); created
Marquis of Lansdowne, 1784; he became Secretary of State in
Chatham's second Administration, 1766, and resigned office on
October 20, 1768, almost simultaneously with Lord Chatham on the
fall of Lord North. In 1782 he again became Secretary of State in
Lord Rockingham's Ministry, and First Lord of the Treasury on the
death of Rockingham. His Government came to an end on the coalition
of Fox and North in 1783. He was the most liberal statesman of his
time, "one of the earliest, ablest, and most earnest of English
freetraders," but he was at the same time one of the most unpopular,
a supposed insincerity being the cause of it.

(55) Lady Bute was the daughter of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.

(56) A society of exquisites drawn from the younger men at Brooks's,
noted for their affectation in dress and manner; travel abroad was
necessary for admission to their society.

(57) Sir Joshua Reynolds(1723-1782). Selwyn was his patron and
friend. When it was reported that Reynolds would stand as a
candidate for the Borough of Plympton, and all the town was laughing
at him, Selwyn remarked that he might very well succeed, "for Sir
Joshua is the ablest man I know on a canvass."

(58) Henry Edward Fox, youngest son of Lord Holland.

(59) Thomas Pelham-Holles, Duke of Newcastle (1693-1768). For half a
century in the front of English political life. In 1724 he became
Secretary of State in Walpole's Administration, and continued in
office until 1756, having on the death of his brother, Henry Pelham,
in 1754, become First Lord of the Treasury. In 1757 he returned as
Prime Minister to office with the elder Pitt, resigning again in
1762. In Lord Rockingham's Ministry, 1765 to 1766, he was Lord Privy
Seal. Newcastle is a remarkable instance of a man of apparently
ordinary capacity holding high office in the State for many years.



Jan. 17, Sunday morning.--We received your Badge at last yesterday.
Sir W. Musgrave and I deliberated a great while about the method of
sending it, and at last went together to Lord Clive, who sets out
for Paris to-morrow, and will take charge of it, as the surest
conveyance. The courier was rejected as too expensive, and Mr. Ward
as too uncertain. I have enclosed a schedule of what the packet
delivered to Lord Clive contains. It is addressed to Sir J. Lambert
and Mr. Ward. If he goes to Paris to-day, as he intended, [he] will
carry a letter from me to Sir J. L[ambert] with directions for the
safest and speediest conveyance of this to you; I shall write to him
again upon the subject on Tuesday.

I wish somebody had received a letter from you by Friday's post, to
satisfy us where you was. This idea of an epidemical disorder at
Turin has alarmed Lady Carlisle, and I have caught some of the
fright of her. March returned yesterday from Lord Spencer's, and the
usual company supped at the Duke of Grafton's.

Mrs. Horton(60) sets out for Nice with a toad-eater and an upper
servant of the Duke's this next week. The night robbers prove to be
soldiers in the Foot Guards, which I suspected; we have not
recovered our terrors, and still go home, as they travel in the
Eastern countries, waiting for convoys; it ruins me in flambeaux's.

Lord Clive will not I think live to go to Nice, but I hope he will
get safe to Paris, and then Sir J. Lambert will take care of all the
rest. The Badge is pretty, excepting that the shape of it is too
long, and the whole seems too large for a young person. But that was
the fault of the sardonyx.

The Duchess of Bucc[leugh](61) is very far gone with child; but I
believe I told you so in my last. I will write the rest when Lady
Sarah is gone from my house Tuesday after dinner.

Tuesday night.--My dear Lord, I have waited till my foreign letters
came in before I would finish this, always in hopes of one from you.
I have received one by this post from Charles of the 6th of this
month; and he says you was answering one which you had just had from
me. This gives me hope that I shall hear from you on Friday.

Lady Sarah dined with me, Miss Blake, Sir Charles, Lord March, Lady
Bolingbroke, and Crawfurd. Lady S[arah], &c. went to the Play soon.
She received a long letter from Lady Holland while we were at
dinner, but only said that Lord H[ollan]d was well, which I was glad
to hear. We were 16 yesterday at the Duke of Gr[afton's], a very
mixed company. He enquired very kindly after you.

I think I shall have both trouble and expense at Gloucester, as I
have had heretofore, but that is all I apprehend, and that I have
been prepared for a great while, by expectation. I am in great hopes
from Charles's letter that you are still at Nice. Not that I think
but, being so near Turin, if there was anything to be feared from
the distemper, you would certainly hear it, and not go. Perhaps
there are letters from you in Cleveland Court; I shall send to Sir
Wm.(62) to enquire.

The great event at Almack's is that Scott has left off play; he is,
I suppose, the plena cruons hirundo. I am not quite satisfied that
Sir J. Lambert is punctual in forwarding my letters; pray let me
know it. Those who have been to see me think your picture very like,
but not a good likeness is agreed on all hands; but such as it is, I
am very much obliged to you for it.

I am extremely glad to find that you are applying to Italian, but to
anything is useful. You will find the benefit of it your whole life.
There are lacunes to be filled up in every stage, which nothing can
supply so well as reading, I am persuaded.

I find the last of mine that you had received when Charles wrote his
was a month ago; that makes me afraid Sir J. L[ambert] keeps them.
There [they] are no more worth his keeping than your receiving, but
they give me the pleasure of assuring you, which I can, with great
truth, that I am ever most truly and most affectionately yours.

(60) The Duke of Grafton made no secret of his relations with Mrs.
Horton.

(61) Elizabeth, Duchess of Buccleugh, daughter of George, Duke of
Montagu. She was married in 1767.

(62) Sir William Musgrave.


Intermixed with the personal news which fills the next letter there
are allusions to some social and political incidents very
characteristic of the time. The Indian nabob, or millionaire as we
should now call him, had begun to desire a seat in Parliament for
his own purposes, just as the sinecurist did for his, and he was
able to outbid the home purchaser. The jealousy with which the Court
party regarded the encroachments of these returned Anglo-Indians in
their preserves is amusing, especially when we recollect that so
great was the venality of the age that a respectable corporation
such as that of Oxford did not hesitate to offer the representation
of their borough for sale for a fixed sum.

1768, January 26, Tuesday night, at Almack's.--I received last night
yours of the 9th of this month, for which I thank you most heartily.
It is really so much pleasure to me to have a letter from you, that
it makes me wish away five days out of seven, and at my age that is
too great an abatement. I intended to have called to-day upon Sir
W[illiam] Musgrave in consequence of it, but neither he [n]or Lady
Carlisle having received any letters (if they are come, he might not
have received them), that (sic) he prevented me, and called upon me
at three o'clock to know if I had had any account of you.

Mr. Ward did not set out the Sunday he intended, that is the 17th
inst., but he gave the letter which he was to carry to Sir J.
L[ambert] to Mr. Hobart,(63) who was to set out for Paris the day
after, that is, the 18th.

Lord Clive did not sail, as Sir W[illiam] M[usgrave] tells me, till
last Sunday, so the Ribband and Badge, &c., will not arrive at Paris
till next Saturday, or Sunday probably; but Sir J. L[ambert] will be
prepared to have sent these things, by a safe hand to you either at
Turin, or Nice. I shall write to him to-night again with a full
explanation of all, that no time may be lost.

I conclude you came to Turin last Saturday, according to the letter
which I received yesterday, unless Lady Carlisle's letter about the
epidemical disorder prevented you, which was wrote the 5th inst.,
upon seeing Monsieur Viri(64) at the Princess Dow[age]r's Drawing
Room. According to the usual course of the post you must then have
received that the 19th, the evening of your intended departure, and
whether it prevented you or not, is still for me a scavoir. I hope
it did, all things considered. But if you really went to Turin last
Wednesday, then you will have been there perhaps near three weeks
before your Investiture. I hope no part of this delay will be
imputed to me. You will not have passed your time, I should think,
ill at a Court, where you was so announced, and to receive that
distinction. I am sure, if any time had been lost by my means, I
should be very sorry, when you tell me that the going so soon to
Turin will accelerate your return hither. For to tell you the truth,
I begin to think the time long already, and it is too soon to begin
counting the months.

I am extremely glad to find that you had the Marquis(65) with you. I
did not like the idea of your travelling alone. Your application to
Italian, or to anything, is what will certainly turn to account,
because, if I am not much mistaken, yours is the very age of
improvement; but your growing fat must be owing to more indolence
than can be salutary to you, and I hope you will take care that that
is not too habitual. The inconveniences of it you may not find
immediately, but they are certain, and very great, of which I could
enumerate very remarkable instances; but they do not interest me as
that does which concerns yourself. I find by Sir W[illiam] that you
have already heard all that your family knows of Lady Fr.; your
great good nature makes me not surprised at your anxiety, but there
is no occasion for it, if I am rightly informed. Your monk's
disinterest[ed]ness is a mare's nest; you will find he expects some
gratuity that will amount to more than a certain stipend; there is
no such thing in nature as an Eccle[si]astic doing anything for
nothing.

As to Morpeth, the best that can be done at present is done. I'm
persuaded what can be done in future times will depend upon
yourself, as I hope and suppose. I do not wonder that Lady Carl,
prefers Reynolds' picture, but I am not sorry to have that which I
have neither. It is a great likeness, though not a good one.

Your seal you will receive with the other things. You ask me about
Lord Tho[mon]d(66) and Will: all [the] party is so broke up at
present that they are au desespoir. The Bedfords are in
extraordinary good humour; that elevation of spirit does them no
more credit than their precedent abasement; the equus animus seems a
stranger to them. G. Greenv.(67) is certainly [befouled] as a
Minister, but he is so well manured in other respects that he cannot
be an object of great compassion certainly.

I hear you was alarmed in the night by a violent squabble in your
retinue. I hope Robert behaves well; as a native of Castle Howard I
have the most partiality to him, although I really believe Louis to
be a very good servant. I shall be glad to know if Rover is still in
being; he shall have his picture at the dilitanti (sic'), if he
returns.

I hope you will not travel Eastward but upon the map. L'appetit
vient en mangeant, but pray let me not find that in respect to your
travelling; I cannot be so selfish as not to be glad that you make
the tour of Italy, but I can carry my disinterestedness no further I
confess; more than 18 months' quarantine will be too much for me.

Lord March is much obliged to you for your kind and constant mention
of him; he is extremely well, and' not plagued with Zamparini's(68)
or anything that I know of. The Duchess of North[umberlan]d(69)
according to her present arrangement sets out for Paris, or some
place or places abroad, next week. If she is not constantly wagging,
as I'm told, she is in danger of a lethargy. Mrs. Horton sets out
for Nice on Friday.

There has been a very long debate in the House of Commons to-day
upon a motion of Ald. Beckford's(70) concerning a Bill he intends to
bring in for the more effectual prevention of bribery and keeping
out nabobs, commissaries, and agents of the House of Commons, or at
least from their encroachments upon the claims of persons
established in towns and boroughs, by descent, family interest, and
long enjoyed property; the principle of his scheme is certainly
good.

The Mayor and Corporation of Oxford are to appear at the Bar in
defence of themselves, for having offered themselves to sale for
7,500 pounds. They had the honnetete to offer the refusal to their
old members, who told them in answer to their modest proposal that
as they had no intention to sell them, so they could not afford to
buy them. I was not at the House, but this is likely to make a great
noise. Bully's petition has been presented by Lord Sandw.,(71) and
will probably be carried through this Session. Some of the Bishops
intend to make speeches against it, as I hear.

Charles Boon has married a squint-eyed, chitten-face citizen with
about 5,000 pounds fortune. Sir G. Mac(72) wedding will be about
Monday or Tuesday next. They consummate at Comb, Vernon's house. Sir
Ch[arles] is returned from Barton, and Lady Sarah gone to the Opera.
You may be sure that we do not pass an hour without mention of you,
but, shall I tell you mind (sic), when Lady Carlisle tells you that
she has seen her at Chapel, and when I tell you that I have dined
with her, we certainly mean to please you; but do we not help to
keep up a flame that, in as much as that is the proper description
of it, had better be extinguished? Crescit indulgent isti. I am sure
I shall never say anything to lessen the just and natural esteem
which you have for her, but when there is grafted on that what may
make you uneasy, I must be an enemy to that or to yourself, and you
know, I am sure, how incapable I am of that. I have a long letter
almost every week from my flame also, Me du Deffand,(73) but these
are passions which non in seria ducunt. She is very importunate with
me to return to Paris, by which (?), if there is any sentiment, it
must be all of her side. I should not be sorry to make another
sejour there; but if I did, and it was with you, I should not throw
away with old women and old Presidents,(74) which is the same thing,
some of those hours which I regret very much at this instant. You
may assure Lord Kildare that I will do my best about his election at
the young club.(75)

(63) George Hobart, third Earl of Buckinghamshire (1732-1804). He
was returned to Parliament in 1761, 1768, and 1774, and he was
manager of the Opera for a time. In 1762 he was made Secretary to
the Embassy at St. Petersburg, where his half-brother John, second
Earl of Buckinghamshire, was Ambassador; in 1793 he succeeded him.
He married, in 1757, Albinia, eldest daughter of Lord Vere Bertie.

(64) The Count de Viry, Sardinian Minister to England.

(65) William Robert, Marquis of Kildare (1748-1805). He succeeded as
third Duke of Leinster in 1773.

(66) Percy Windham O'Brien, Baron of Stricheh and Earl of Thomond,
brother of Lord Egremont and of Mrs. George Grenville. He was a
Member of Parliament for Mmehead, Lord-Lieutenant of the county of
Somerset, and a member of the Privy Council.

(67) George Grenville (1712-1770). Prime Minister and Chancellor of
the Exchequer in 1763. The author of the Stamp Act. See his
Character, Lecky, "History of England," vol. III. p. 64.

(68) A dancing girl of fifteen and her family, at the moment the
object of Lord March's attention.

(69) Lady Elizabeth Seymour, Duchess of Northumberland, generally
called Lady Betty. In 1740 she married Sir Hugh Smithson, against
the will of her grandfather, the Duke of Somerset, who disliked this
marriage for the heiress of the Percys, but there was no power of
depriving her of the property, and Smithson succeeded to the title
in 1750; from this time they both figured prominently in society and
politics, and the Duchess's entertainments, where the best musicians
performed, were famous.

(70) William Beckford (1709-1770). Alderman and Lord Mayor of
London, and Member of Parliament for the City of London. The friend
and supporter of Wilkes, he was an upholder of popular rights at a
time when men of wealth were usually supporters of the King.

(71) John George Montagu, fourth Earl of Sandwich (1718-1792); was a
party politician whose term of office as First Lord of the Admiralty
brought him into general opprobrium; in private life he was even
more severely condemned. With the Earl of March, Sir Francis
Dashwood, and others, he was associated with Wilkes in the infamous
brotherhood of Medmenham, and later, when they made public the
secrets of the club against Wilkes, popular feeling rose high
against Sandwich, and he was characterised as Jemmy Twitcher, from a
play then running; the theatre rose to the words "That Jemmy
Twitcher should peach me I own surprised me."

(72) Sir George, afterward Lord Macartney (1737-1800). An ambitious
young Irishman; a tutor and friend of Charles James Fox, he had been
assisted in his career by Lord Holland. In 1764 he had been
appointed Envoy Extraordinary to Russia, and later held appointments
as Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, President of Madras,
Governor of the Cape of Good Hope, and Ambassador to China. He
married Lord Bute's second and favourite daughter, Lady Jane.

(73) Marie de Vichy Chamroud, Marquise du Deffand (1697-1780). She
married, in 1718, the Marquis du Deffand, from whom she soon
separated, and lived the life of pleasure so common in the period.
At the age of sixty-two she became totally blind. This misfortune
but made her the more celebrated and sought after. In 1764 occurred
the quarrel with Mlle. Lespinasse, which divided her salon and left
her quite alone with her faithful secretary, Wiart. With the
exception of her correspondence with the Duchesse de Choiseul, she
bequeathed all her letters to Horace Walpole. She was seventy and
Walpole fifty when they met and their famous attachment and
correspondence began.

(74) President Henault (1685-1770). He was President of the
Parliament, a member of the Academy, and author of "L'abrege
Chronologique de l'Histoire de France." His devotion to Mme. du
Deffand lasted until his death, which preceded hers by ten years.

(75) At White's.


(1768) Feb. 2, Tuesday Morning.--Yesterday Sir T. Stapleton and Mr.
Lee, the members for the town of Oxford, read in their places, by
order of the House, the letter which they had received a year and a
half ago from the Mayor, Bailiffs, and Council of Oxford to offer
them a quiet election, and absolute sale of themselves, for 5,670
pounds sterling; the sum which the Corporation is indebted, and
otherwise as they declare unable to pay. Eleven sign, of which
[whom] one is since dead; all the rest are ordered to attend at our
Bar on Friday with the Mace Bearer, &c. Their Regalia has been
pawned for their high living. The House was excessively crow[d]ed;
Thurloe and Rigby,(76) for the Duke of Marl(borough's) sake, made
weak efforts to bring them off. Some of these people are fled to
Calais, as it is said, to avoid Newgate; it may be that none of them
will appear who signed.

Mr. Walpole's(77) book(78) came out yesterday, but I got it from him
on Saturday, and my (?) Lord Molyneux carried it for me that morning
to Sir John Lamb[er]t to be forwarded to your Lordship immediately.
I'm confident that it will entertain you much, and, what is more
extraordinary, convince you; because I have that good opinion of
your understanding as not to think that ages and numbers can
sanctify falsehood, and that such is your love of truth as to be
glad to find it, although at the expense of quitting the prejudice
of your whole precedent life. I will not forestall your judgment by
saying anything more of this book, but only wish it may afford as
much entertainment as it has me. This historic doubter dined with me
yesterday, Williams, Lord March, Cadogan, and Fanshaw, qui m'a
demande a diner, at the House.

Horry seemed mightily pleased with the success which his new book
has met with; nobody cavils at anything, but here and there an
expression; his hypothesis is approved of from the most reasonable
conjectures, and the most indisputable authorities. I would have had
Bully [to] have dined with us, but he was engaged to his brother,
qui donne a diner fort souvent. I told him, that if he would pay his
court to Horry he might give him a lick of his vernis, that would do
his repu[ta]tion no harm. He is in high spirits; his divorce is
making a rapid progress through your House.

Beauclerck looks wretchedly, and has been very ill. Our
Minister,(79) as you call him, goes on very well, but he is now a
widower a second time; his Lady set out for Paris last Saturday. I
hope he will not be undermined. The King will never have a servant
that will please the public more. I dine with him often a petit
convert at March's. I am not desirous that my friends should become
ministers; but if they are ministers, it is fair to wish they may
become one's friends. He is yours very cordially, I'm persuaded. He
always asks very kindly after you, and seems uneasy that the Order
has not yet reached you. He said the other day at dinner, aun ton
tres patetique, "I shall be much disappointed if in four or five
years Lord Carlisle does not give a very good account of himself."
Ministre, ou non ministre, qui tient des propos pareils, n'aura pas
grande difficulte a me contenter sur le reste. I have abandoned him
to-day for Lady Sarah, at which you will be neither surprised, [n]or
offended. He dines at March's, and I in the Privy Garden.

The D[uke] and D[uches]s of Rich[mon]d are in town. A young man
whose name I cannot recollect asked me very kindly after you
yesterday, at the H[ouse] of C[ommons]; he used to sit by your
bedside of a morning in King Street; he is tall and thin.

Dr. Musgrave, the Provost of Oriel College in Oxf[or]d, cut his
throat in bed the other day; he was ill, but he had taken to heart a
mistake which he had madeabout a letter of Sir J. Dolben's, who is
to be member for the University the remainder of this Parliament. A
dispute with the Fellows, as they tell me, arose in consequence of
it, and this seized the poor man's brains. He was reckoned very
passionate, but d'ailleurs a good kind of man. I knew his person and
his elder brother, Sir Philip, formerly very well. There is a
stagnation of news just at this moment, but as soon as any
preferments, peerages, or changes of any kind are known for certain,
I will send you word of them.

I dined at the D[uchess]'s or Duke's, which you please, of
Northumberland's(80) on Saturday; you are a great favourite of her
Grace's. She told me of I don't know how many sheets which you had
wrote to Lady Carlisle, giving an account of your travels. All the
company almost were of Yorkshire, or of the North; Lord and Lady
Ravensw[orth], Sir M. Ridley and his father, the Punch Delaval, Lord
Tankerville, &c. Her Grace goes soon to Paris, but has as yet fixed
no day.

A disagreeable report has prevailed lately, but I believe without
the least foundation, that Crew has lost a monstrous sum to Menil.
Almack's thrives, but no great events there. I have ordered the
M[arquis] of Kildare to be put up at the young club, at White's. If
little Harry is come to town, he shall write to you; others should
write to you if I could make them, but I am afraid those wishes are
more of a courtier than a friend. I should be sorry and ashamed, by
endeavouring to flatter your inclination, if I lost your good
opinion, which without flattery I value much.

I sat the other morning with Miss Blake; Lady S[arah], and Sir
Ch[arle]s were rode out, and I did not see them. She told me a
letter was come from Charles, and there is a rendezvous she said,
somewhere, but she could not recollect where. She thought you
intended to meet Charles and their family at Spa the end of the
summer; if so, I shall not despair of seeing you many months sooner
than I can otherwise expect it. I shall know to-day at dinner more
particularly about it. Lord March thanks you for your frequent and
kind mention of him.

My new chaise comes home the week after next. I shall defer making a
chariot for some time. I may, perhaps, ask your opinion about a
friensh [French?] equipage. March's great room is gilding, and when
finished he is to give a dinner to Lady Sarah, and a concert to a
great many more. I will finish this au sortir de table.

Tuesday night.--I dined at Sir Charles's. Harry came to town this
morning with his French friend and Academist. He has promised me to
write to you next post. Lady Sarah says that if you are not
satisfied about the St. Andrew, Hemmins is to blame, not her. She
could not get him to come near her; and the day it was finished,
which was the day before it went away, she never saw it.

Charles, I find, is to meet you in April at Rome; and Lady Sarah the
latter end of the summer to meet him at Spa. You do not return to
Nice. I do not count much upon hearing from you, but by accident,
when you proceed further into Italy.

Sir R. Rich died last night only, so I can know nothing of his
preferments yet. Dr. Smith, the Master of Trinity, is also dead, and
Dr. Hinchliff asks for his Headship. Lady Sarah was melancholy about
Stee (81); she hears that his lethargy increases, and thinks it
probable her sister may lose both her husband and son in a very
short time; that is a disagreeable perspective. They all desired to
be remembered to you. Adieu, my dear Lord, pour aujourd'hui. I have
no chance of hearing from you by this post, the letters having come
yesterday; so God bless you. I am ever most sincerely and
affectionately yours.


(76) Richard Rigby (1722-1788). A prominent politician, he was for
many years Paymaster of the Forces; but was a coarse, hard-drinking
place-man.

(77) Horace Walpole (1717-1797) was the fourth and youngest son of
Sir Robert Walpole. He was Selwyn's lifelong friend. His biographers
place him at Eton with Selwyn, the two Conways, George and Charles
Montagu, the poet Gray, Richard West, and Thomas Ashton. On leaving
Cambridge he made the continental tour with Gray, but after two
years of travel together they disagreed and separated for the
homeward journey. In 1747 he bought Strawberry Hill, which he
transformed into his Gothic Castle, ornamenting the interior with
objects of beauty or curiosity. In 1757 he set up his private
printing press, where he brought out Gray's poems and other
interesting English and French publications, beside his own
productions, which culminated in "The Castle of Otranto," a
departure in fiction beginning the modern romantic revival. In 1765
he visited Paris, where he went much into society, and when his
celebrated friendship with Mme. du Deffand began. He helped to
embitter Rousseau against Hume by the mock letter from Frederick the
Great offering him an asylum in Germany. In 1789, nine years after
Mme. du Deffand's death, he met the two sisters, Agnes and Mary
Berry, who came to live near him at little Strawberry, which he left
them at his death. He succeeded his nephew as fourth Lord Orford in
1791, but he preferred the name which he had made more widely known,
and signed himself "Horace Walpole, uncle of the late Earl of
Orford." The celebrated letters begin as early as 1735 and extend to
1797. Walpole never married.

(78) "Historic Doubts on Richard the Third."

(79) The Duke of Grafton.

(80) Hugh, second Duke of Northumberland (1742-1817).

(81) Stephen Fox.



[1768,] Feb. 16, Tuesday morning, Newmarket.--I have just finished a
long letter, which, when I came to sand, I have, par distraction,
covered all over with ink. I came down here on Saturday with March
to meet the Duke of Grafton, who by the by only stayed here that
night, and then went to Bury, so that I have scarce seen him.

We are at Vernon's house, that is, dinner and supper; which he has
bought of Lord Godolphin(82) [for] 4000. Here has been Sir J. More,
Bully, and Polly Jones, Vernon's Polly, Mr. Stoneheir,(83) who came
with the D[uke] of G[rafton], Sir Charles Bunbury and little Harry,
and Mr. Richmond has been here also to lay out Vernon's gardens. Sir
Charles has held us a Pharo bank of a night which has cost him 200
pound, a sum, I imagine, not so easily spared at this juncture by
him.

March promised that I should be in London again today, but you know
his irresolution, and the little opposition which I can give to what
he desires; but it is a great sacrifice for me, for you have been so
good in writing to me since I left you, that there is not a week
that I am absolutely without my hopes of hearing from you, although,
when I left you, I should have been glad to have compounded for once
a month; and I'm the more impatient to know what accounts are come
by Monday night's post, from what you told me of the gripe, and that
you could not go to the French Amb[assado]r's Ball. Harry tells me
that he wrote to you, as you ordered him.

Lady S[arah] is in town, and I suppose very happy with the thoughts
of a Mascarade which we are to have at Almack's next Monday
sevennight, unless in the interim some violent opposition comes from
the Bishops. Harry has had here with him a son of Lord
Carysfort's(84) from Cambridge. Bully's affair ends with the
Session; as soon as that is concluded, he will be in respect of
matrimony absolutely evinculated.

There has been an Almack since I wrote, but no events.

At the other shop, a great deal of deep play, where I believe Ossory
has been a great sufferer; the D[uke] of Roxb[urgh](85) is become a
very deep player also, and at Hazard. I have been, as you justly
call it, foolish, but very moderately so, and rather a winner, for
which I'm not certainly less foolish. But my caution at present
arises from being at the eve of an expense probably for which an
opposition at the Hazard table is but a bad preparatif. However, all
things are quiet as yet, and my own private affairs en bon train,
according to the present appearances.

The D[uke] of G[rafton] tells me that he wishes to recommend for
Luggershall, Lord Garlics,(86) and a son of Sir M. Lamb's. I wish
Morpeth(87) could have waited till you come of age. But I hope that
in future times everything will be done there and elsewhere which
your family consequence entitles you to wish may be done.

The Corporation of Oxford was dismissed on Wednesday last with a
reprimand that is to be printed; un discours assez plat, as I have
heard. That affair has raised up many others, and a multitude of
attorneys, who have been hawking about people's boroughs, have been
sent for. It is high time to put a stop to such practices, and to
check the proceedings of nabobs, commissaries, and agents.

Very luckily for you I cannot find many materials here for detaining
you long, so God bless you, my dear Lord. I wish I may be able to
contrive some means of abridging the time and distance which seems
determined to separate me from you. I am constantly regretting that
which I gave up to old women and presidents. But il est de nos
attachemens comme de la sante; nous n'en sentons pas tout le prix
que quand nous l'avons perdue. I beg my compliments to the Marquis
of Kildare; I am happy to know that you have a companion, and that
it is him.

 (82) Francis Godolphin Osborne, Marquis of Carmarthen, fifth Duke
of Leeds. In 1773 he married Amelia, daughter of Robert d'Arcy, Earl
of Holdernesse. He was Secretary for Foreign Affairs 1783-91.

(83) Richard Stonehewer, the Duke of Grafton's private secretary. He
was a friend of Gray, the poet, and of Horace Walpole.

(84) Sir John Proby (1720-1772). He was created Baron Carysfort in
1752, and appointed one of the Lords of the Admiralty in 1757.

(85) John, third Duke of Roxburghe (1740-1804). In society he was
regarded as one of the most agreeable and handsome men of his day,
but he is now chiefly recollected as a book collector. The sale of
his library in 1812 occupied forty-five days. The Roxburghe Club was
inaugurated at the time of the sale.

(86) John Lord Garlics (1735-1806), seventh Earl of Galloway.

(87) The parliamentary representation of.


[1768, Feb. 26]. . . .The Bishops have, as I apprehended that they
would, put a stop to our Masquerade, for which I am sorry,
principally upon Lady Sarah's account. I shall go this morning and
condole with her upon it. . . . March is very pressing to know if I
do him justice in my letters to you; he is not very fond of writing,
and therefore deposits with me all his best and kindest compliments
to you.

I thank you for saying that you would have me a few hours gazing at
amphitheatres, and you for the same time gazing here at something
more modern. That would not answer my purpose. I never carried my
love of antiquity and literary researches to that point. I should be
glad to have a view of Italy, but with you; and if you should take a
trip here for a few days, pray don't insist on my being at that time
in contemplation of the mazures de nos ancetres. The last letter
which you mention to have received from me was of the 15th of last
month, and you did not receive it till the 3rd of this. I hope my
letters come to you, since you permit the writing of them. I shall
always hereafter put them myself into the post. . . .

A match is much talked of between Lord Spencer Hamilton and Miss
Beauclerk, the Maid of Honour. I hope it will not take place. There
is not as much as I have sometimes lost of a night at Hazard between
them both, either at present or in expectation, and the number of
beggars is increased to an enormous degree. . . .


1768, February 28, Sunday morning, Chest(erfield) Str(eet).--I wrote
to you on Friday morning, and at night, just before the post was
going, received the pleasure of yours of the 10th; so that what I
wrote afterwards was much in haste, and from the impetuosity of my
temper to make my acknowledgments to you. I was yesterday at Lady
Carlisle's door, to enquire for Sir W(illiam), but he was not at
home. I asked if they had had any letters from you, and being told
they had not, I took the liberty to leave word that I had received
one of the 10th, and that you was then very well.

I believe all the apprehensions which Me Viri had filled us with,
are now dispersed, and not fearing anything from cold, I hope that I
shall not be so foolish as to be thinking of the consequences of
heat; cela ne finit point. I saw Viri at Lady Hertford's at night;
he was unacquainted with the particulars of the courier, &c., but
only said that the King, his master, had assured him that he should
invest you with that order, as his Brother(88) had desired he would,
and that it should be done avec toute la pompe et eclat dont la
chose fut susceptible. He is a stupid animal in appearance, this
Viri.

I had yesterday morning my conference with the D(uke) of G(rafton);
he has assured me that I should have the place of Treasurer to the
Queen, added to that which I already have (without any kind of
pension), as soon as ever one could be found out for Mr. Stone, but
he having been the King's Preceptor there will be some management
with him, but the Duke said, if he would not acquiesce, he
insinuated force. The two places together, if I am not mistaken in
the estimate, will be near 2,300 pounds per annum. I'm much obliged
to the D(uke) for his liberal and kind manner of treating with me. I
have succeeded better, I find, in negotiating for myself, than when
I employed another; but I have this time had to deal with a person
who seemed willing to comply with anything which I could propose in
reason, and has even gone beyond my proposals; and I have reason to
flatter myself that his Majesty has not that reluctance to oblige
me, which his grandfather had, and has certainly a much better
opinion of me. Then, if this Election goes off without an enormous
expense, I shall be enabled to pay off much the greatest part of my
debt; but my imprudences have been beyond conception. I hope that
that Providence which has preserved me from the usual effects of
them will be kind enough to let me enjoy some few years of ease, and
to pass them with your Lordship. I will not then complain of my lot
here, which, were the cards to be shuffled again, I might mend in
some particulars, without perhaps adding anything to the general
felicity of my life.

I went from the D(uke) of G(rafton's) to a little concert at
March's, where was Sir C(harles) and Lady S(arah). She and I went up
into the rooms above, which are now gilding and repairing, and I
communicated to her such parts of your letter as I thought would
please her, and which I thought you would be pleased that I should
repeat to her. . . .

Monday morning.--Miss Blake(89) did not leave them till yesterday.
She went with Lady S(arah) to Court, and then Sir Ch(arles) and Lady
S(rah)dined at Mr. Blake's and left her there. I saw Lady
S(rah)afterwards at the D(che)s of Hamilton's.(90) Assembly is there
at present; Lady Harrington has not been able to see company for
some time.

There is now no talk but of Elections. Lord Thom(n) is thrown out at
Taunton, and opposed at Winchelsea, and so it goes on. This is the
week I am in most apprehension of, because I think next, as the
Judges will be then in the town (loucester) there can be no treating
nor bustle; but as yet I know of no opponent. Sackville sticks close
to . . . (sic). I was with her Grace most part of yesterday morning,
with Lord W. Gordon. Harry St. John asks me if you have mentioned a
Me Chateau Dauphin; all Italian news interests him much. . . .

(88) George III.

(89) Carlisle in a letter refers to her as Selwyn's ward.

(90) Elizabeth Gunning, Duchess of Hamilton and Argyll (1734-1790);
a sister of the equally beautiful and famous Maria Gunning, Lady
Coventry, who died in 1760. The Duchess of Argyll, who married the
second time the year following the death of the Duke of Hamilton,
was generally known as the Duchess of Hamilton, and in 1776 was
created Baroness Hamilton in her own right. This untitled daughter
of a poor Irish gentleman was the wife of two dukes and the mother
of four.


(1769,) July 4, Tuesday night.--I have sent to-day for you 45
bottles of the vin de Grave and six bottles of Neuilly, and the same
quantity is ready to be packed up and sent when I have your further
commands. The reason why I did not send the whole at once, was the
consideration of the weather, etc.; when this comes safe, the rest
shall follow directly, and then according to my cellar-book you will
have had in all ten dozen, that is seven dozen and a half now and
two dozen and a half before, of that particular wine, and about a
dozen of Burgundy. It goes by sea to Hull. The Knight cutter, Thomas
Savil, master, Hull, at the custom-house quay. That custom-house
quay may mean at London. However, this is the method prescribed by
your porter, for I have been at your house to enquire, as well as my
servant.

I have wrote to Frances about the tricote, and will send you an
account of it by next post. I have regulated the papers to-day, for
upon enquiry at the house, I found two were sent you from thence,
and the three besides from Jolliffe, which you ordered; so I bid
Jolliffe look to that.

I was at Vauxhall last night with Lady Harrington, Lady Barrimore,
Mrs. Damer,(91) Lady Harriot, March, Frances, and Barker. Very fine
music, and a reckoning of thirty-six shillings; fine doings. I had
rather have heard Walters play upon his hump for nothing. I dined
to-day at James's with Boothby, Harry St. John, March, and Panton.
To-morrow Lord Digby and I dine at Holland H(ouse), and on Thursday
Harry and I dine at Beckford's with Sir W(illiam) M(usgrave). Rigby
gave a dinner to-day to the Duke and Duchess of Grafton.

(91) Anne, only daughter of General Conway. She ultimately became
possessed of Strawberry Hill. She devoted herself to sculpture; the
heads that ornament the bridge at Henley-on-Thames are her work.

The Newmarket people go the beginning of next week. I shall then go
into Kent, and the beginning of the week after I shall set out for
Castle Howard. I long to see you dans votre beau Chateau. But where
is it that I do not wish to see you? If anything is published that
is not a mere catch-penny, as it is called, I shall send it
directly. I believe the account of the D(uke) of G(rafton) and Nancy
is of that sort, but I know no more than the advertisement.

Almack's is extinct. I am writing from White's, which I have long
wished was so too.

Bad news from the Colonies. The P(rince) of Brunswick has another
son. The people are come from the Installation at Cambridge, but I
know no more of what has passed there than you see in the papers.
Harry pursues the Bladen, and March will be talked of for Lady
Harriot till he does or does not marry her. I wish it decided one
way or other. I own I have his happiness too much at heart not to be
anxious about it, and hate to have it in suspense.

Lord Farnham has distributed four hogshead of some vin de Grave,
which he had, among his friends, and they prefer it to that which
Wion (?) furnishes us with. I cannot help that, all things are good
and great and small, &c., by comparison. God bless you, my dear
Lord; I will come, as you have given me leave, as soon as my affairs
here will possibly permit it.

I write to-night for ten dozen more of vin de Grave.





CHAPTER 3. 1773-1777, 1779 AND 1780 POLITICS AND SOCIETY

Fox's Debts--Lord Holland--News from London--Interview with Fox--The
Fire at Holland House--A Visit to Tunbridge--Provision for Mie Mie
--County business and electioneering at Gloucester--Lotteries--Fox
and Carlisle--Highway adventures--London Society--Newmarket
intelligence--An evening in town--Charles Fox and America--Carlisle
declines a Court post--Money from Fox--Selwyn and gambling--A
Private Bill Committee--Selwyn in bad spirits--The Royal Society
--Book-buying--Political affairs--London parks--Gainsborough--The
Duchess of Kingston--Selwyn's private affairs--"The Diaboliad"--A
dinner at the French Ambassador's--Politics and the Clubs--In Paris
--Electioneering again.

A distinguished man of letters of the present day has called Selwyn
the father confessor of the society of his time: it is a tribute to
his friendliness and good sense, as well as to his good nature and
patience. Without them he could never have been the trusted adviser
of Carlisle in those financial difficulties in which the young
peer's friendship for Charles Fox involved him. It was in 1773 that
the crash came in Fox's affairs. His gambling debts had been
accumulating. The birth of a son to his elder brother--closing, at
any rate for the time, Charles Fox's reversionary interests--caused
his creditors to press their claims. Lord Holland was obliged to
come to the assistance of his son. It is at this moment that the
correspondence which is gathered in the present chapter begins. Lord
Holland had raised a large sum with which to pay off his son's
debts. Selwyn was indignant because it seemed as if creditors less
indulgent than Carlisle would be the first to be paid. So in many
letters he presses upon Carlisle that he must not allow his
friendship for Charles Fox to outweigh the monetary claims which he
had upon him, and in no measured terms he condemns the carelessness
with which Fox regarded his financial obligations to his friend.

The correspondence contained in this chapter commences at the end of
the year 1773, after an apparent break of four years; there is no
doubt, however, that it continued and the letters from Selwyn have
not been preserved. The letters in 1773 begin by referring to the
financial matters to which brief allusion has just been made, and
which formed a subject so full of interest and anxiety for Selwyn.
He has time, however, to give his friend news of the political and
social events of London. The American question was becoming more and
more important, the Declaration of Independence had startled England
in 1776, and in 1774 Charles Fox had finally left the Administration
of Lord North, soon to become the leader of the Whig party and the
champion of the American Colonists.

(1773, Dec. 1)--This is the severest criticism which I have heard
passed upon you. In all other particulars be assured that you have
as much of the general esteem of the world as any man that ever came
into it, and will preserve the highest respect from it if you will
only from this time have such a consideration, and such a management
of your fortune, as common prudence requires. Charles has destroyed
his, and his reputation also, and I am very much afraid that, let
what will be done now, they will in a very few years be past all
kind of redemption. You will have been the innocent cause of much
censure upon him, because all the friendship in the world which you
can show him will never wipe off what he and his family at this
instant stands (sic) accused of, which is, setting at nought the
solemnest ties in the world and after the maddest dissipation of
money possible, the amassing for his sake 50,000 pounds to pay
everybody but those who deserved the first consideration, and
without which he could never [be] said to be free, and it would [be]
a constant reproach to be easy. When there was no idea but of his
having 20,000 advanced, which sum was otherwise to have been left
him, and I said that such and such persons would be paid first, you
did not seem to credit it. Was I right? or not? in my conjectures?
If I tell you now, that 16,000 pounds more than the present sum of
50,000 will come, I cannot pretend to say from what quarter, but I
mean from the Holland family; and, if I tell you also, that as much
more will be borrowed for purposes which do not now exist; I must
tell you that I think that these sums will be sent after the others,
if you do not strenuously oppose it, and if somebody does not watch
over the springs from whence these supplies are to flow.

As to Hare,(92) you will do me the justice to own that I have not
said a word to impeach his friendship to you. But I must set him
aside as a man capable of transacting this business. It is not de
son ressort, and I know that he has difficulties to combat with, if
he undertakes it, which are insuperable. Now, when I talk of men of
business, I will explain myself. I mean three for example: Mr.
Wallis, if ever you consult him, Mr. Gregg, and Lavie. I would also
seriously apply to my Lord Gower for his advice, and make him a
confidant in what relates to this business. He has very powerful
motives for interesting himself in it. All others I would silence at
once by saying that you had fixed upon particular persons to talk
with upon this subject, and that you would not listen an instant to
any other. After one or two attempts to discuss the point they would
give it up, and, knowing in what channel it was, would be more
afraid to trifle with you about it. Charles never opens his lips to
me upon the subject, and when Hare was last at my house he did not
say a single word relative to it. The bond was not so much as
mentioned. To speak the truth, I had rather that they would not, for
I should not be able to keep my temper if they did.

I have talked this matter over with persons of established
reputations in the world for good sense, knowledge, and experience,
and with as nice feelings in points of honour and friendship as
anybody ever had. It is their opinion which makes me so confident of
my own, exclusive of the arguments themselves, qui sautent aux yeux.

Now, as to the expedients. The capital sum,(93) let us call it,
15,000. Let Charles pay immediately 5,000 pounds from the 50,000
pounds. I will endeavour a year hence to raise you five more. Let
Charles and Lord Stavordale,(94) by their joint securities (and let
Lady Holland contribute hers), try to raise the other 5,000, and
then this debt is paid; and when the worst comes to the worst, you
will lose yourself only the 5,000, which we shall endeavour to get
from your own securities and resources. All this is very practicable
with people who are disposed to think of their honour more than of
the gratification of their own pleasure.

The Holland family went to Bath yesterday. I took my leave, and it
may be a final one, of them on Monday. Charles, it is said, will
follow them. What is become of Hare I know not. If you desire a
letter to be shown to Lord Holland,(95) Lady H. must shew it. I will
speak to you, as I promised, without reserve. I am apt to think that
he will comprehend what you say very well. It is not my judgment
only, but I have heard it said, that a great deal of his inattention
upon these occasions has been affected, and that if the same money
was to be received and not to be paid, our faculties would then
improve. I wish that if he has any left, he would exert them now for
the sake of the reputation of his family as well as of his own; or
he will add a load of obloquy to that which has been already
derived (?) upon him, on account of the means by which this
dissipated wealth has been acquired; and by this last act of
indifference to the honour of his son he will seem to justify all
that abuse with which he has been loaded, and they will be apt to
apply, what he does not certainly merit, but will nevertheless carry
an air of truth with it, and they will say that--

"Plundering both his country and his friends,
 It's thus the Lord of useless thousands ends."

You see, my dear Lord, with how much confidence I treat you. I have
thought aloud, when I have been speaking to you, which perhaps I
ought not to have done, but I cannot help it. I hope that you will
burn my letters, for if they served as testimonies of the warmth of
my friendship to you, they might be ill interpreted by others. . . .

Charles you say has not wrote to you. There is no accounting for
that or for him but by one circumstance, and that is, that the
gratification of the present moment is the God of his Idolatry. You
mention his credit with Lord North.(96) I know for a certainty that
Lord North disavows that which I know he once gave him. "He will,"
they say, "manage this, and will settle that, with the Minister."
Stuff! The Minister, whoever he happens to be, will settle this
matter with Charles, and say, "Sir, I know you want me, and that I
do not want you, but in a certain degree. Speak, and be paid, as Sir
W. Young was." Alas, poor Charles! Aha promissa dederat. You say
that you have not had a line from Lady H(olland); have you then
wrote to her? I will add more to this if I see occasion, after I
have been to talk with Lavie, who really means, I believe, to serve
you with great fidelity, and reasons about this matter with great
nettete and percision.

(92) James Hare (1749-1804); son of Richard Hare, apothecary, of
Limestone; grandson of Bishop Francis Hare; at Eton with Fox and
Carlisle, and afterwards entered Balliol College, Oxford. As a young
man he was considered more brilliant than Fox, and more was expected
of his future. He sat for Stockbridge from 1772-1774, and for
Knaresborough from 1781 to his death. Like all of the fashionable
men of his day, he played heavily. In 1779 he had become deeply
involved in debt, but obtained the post of Minister Plenipotentiary
to Poland, which he held until 1782; in 1802 he was very ill at
Paris, where Fox made him frequent visits. He died at Bath. Lady
Ossory described his wit as "perhaps of a more lively kind than
Selwyn's." Storer left him a legacy of 1,000 pounds.

(93) Fox's debt to Carlisle.

(94) Henry Thomas, afterwards second Earl of Ilchester (1747-1802);
the cousin and companion of Fox, and as great a gambler. "Lord
Stavordale, not one-and-twenty, lost eleven thousand last Tuesday,
but recovered by one great hand at hazard."


(95) Lord Holland had amassed a large fortune when Paymaster-General,
and on this account his unpopularity was so great as to amount to
public detestation.

(96) Frederick North, second Earl of Guildford, known in history as
Lord North (1732-1792); Chancellor of the Exchequer, 1767; First
Lord of the Treasury, 1770 to 1782; Secretary of State, 1783 (March
to December); succeeded to Earldom of Guildford, 1790.


(1774,) January 18, Tuesday, Chesterfield Street.--I received
yesterday your extreme kind letter, while I was at Lord Gower's at
dinner; which dinner, by the way, or the supplement to it, lasted so
long, that I have increased my cough by it greatly, and am so unable
to go this morning to Court, that I think now of putting on my
clothes in the evening only, and so going, as I did last year, to
the King's side, to make her Majesty my bow as she passes from that
apartment to the ball-room. We had yesterday at dinner Dick Vernon
and Keith Stewart only, besides Lord Gower's family.

I was going home to dine by myself tres sagement et tres
tranquillement, dans le dessein de me menager, when Lord G. was so
good as to propose my going home with him; and thinking that to be
an opportunity of talking more with him upon you and your affairs,
as we did, I could not resist it. I do assure you, my dear Lord, it
is a great pleasure to me to see the zeal with which he speaks of
you, and your interests, which is not, to be sure, surprising,
considering your connection, but it makes me happy that my former
intimacy with him begins to revive, which it has gradually done,
from the time that you have belonged to him.

Miss Pelham(97) came to Lady Gower after dinner, and I think intends
to go to-day to the Birthday, but such a hag you have no conception
of; and a patch which she is obliged to wear upon the lower eyelid,
improves the horror of her appearance. She will kill herself, I make
no doubt.

The letter which you have been so good to enclose for my
satisfaction, from Lady Holl(an)d to you, does not much elate me, I
own; it is just that of one who is obliged to say a great deal, and
finds an inconvenience in doing anything; and as to Charles's
writing to you, you know best how these promises have been
fulfilled. If I could direct her Ladyship's good disposition, I
should make her show your letter to her to Lord Holl(an)d; I am
persuaded that his faculties are not so entirely lost as not to
discern with how much force of reason, propriety, and good nature it
is wrote. What he would do in consequence of it, I cannot be quite
so sure. Then he might, perhaps, relapse into a state of imbecility,
or affected anility, which might deprive you of the advantage which
you should expect from it.

Among other things which passed between Lord Gower and me upon the
subject of Charles, to which our conversation, by the way, was not
confined, I told him that your people of business had proposed that
you should sue Charles for the Annuities, and how that advice seemed
to shock you. He was not surprised at that, knowing your delicacy
and friendship. But sueing Charles, you will find in a short time,
has no horror but in the expression. If you are shocked, you will be
singly so; Charles will not be so, it is my firm belief. As soon as
Lavie comes to you, he will tell you how far Mr. Crewe has embraced
that idea, and what has been the consequence of it. If you will sue
Lord H(ollan)d and Mr. Powell, or (for?) them, in Charles's name,
you will do your business. But I do not say that it is time for
that.

What I proposed to Lord Gower was only this, and that cannot have
nothing (sic) rebutant in it, to either Charles or you. It is this.
To hear Charles's story patiently, but to answer or reason with him
as little as possible. To desire that he would be so good as to meet
you at your own house, with Mr. Wallis and Mr. Gregg; we will have
nothing to do with Lavie, pour le moment. Il ne respectera pas
celui-ci comme les deux autres. Discuss with them before Charles the
means of extricating yourself from these engagements. Let him hear
what they say, and what they would advise you to do, as guardian to
your children; for there is the point de vue, in which I am touched
the most sensibly; and whatever Charles has to offer by way of
expedient, by way of correcting their ideas, whatever hopes he can
give, which are rationally founded, let him lay them before these
people in your presence.

Why I wish this is, the [that] he must then have something to combat
with, and that is, truth and reason. Without that, and you two
together only, or Hare, what will follow? There will be flux de
bouche, which to me is totally incomprehensible, as Sir G.
M('Cartney) told me that it was to him. Il fondera en larmes, and
then you will be told afterwards, whenever a measure of any vigour
is proposed, that you had acquiesced, because you had been disarmed,
confounded. This happened no longer ago than last Saturday, with
Foley,(98) who related the whole conference to me, and the manner in
which it was carried on. "However," says Foley, "I carried two
points out of four, but I was obliged to leave him, not being able
[to] resist the force of sensibility."

I confess that, had it been my case, I should have been tempted to
have made use of Me de Maintenon's words to the Princesse de Conti--
"Pleurez, pleurez, Madame, car c'est un grand malheur que de n'avoir
pas le coeur bon." I do not think that of Charles so much as the
rest of the world does, and to which he has undoubtedly given some
reason by his behaviour to his father, and to his friends. I
attribute it all to a vanity that has, by the foolish admiration of
his acquaintance, been worked up into a kind of phrensy, I shall be
very unwilling to believe that he ever intended to distress a friend
whom he loved as much as I believe that he has done you.

But really this is being very candid to him, and yet I cannot help
it. For I have passed two evenings with him at supper at Almack's,
ou nous avons ete lie en conversation, and never was anybody more
agreeable and the more so for his having no pretensions to it, which
is what has offended more people than even what Lady H(ollan)d is so
good as to call his misconduct. I do assure you, my dear Lord, that
notwithstanding all that I have been obliged by my friendship and
confidence in you to say, I very sincerely love him, although I
blame him so much, that I dare not own it; and it will give me the
greatest pleasure in the world to see him take that turn which he
professes to take. But what hopes can we have of it?

Vernon said yesterday after dinner, that he and some others--Bully,
I think, among the rest--had been driven by the rain up into
Charles's room; and when they had lugged him out of his bed, they
attacked him so violently upon what he did at the Bath, that he was
obliged to have recourse, as he did last year, to an absolute denial
of the fact. The imagination of the blacklegs at the Billiard Table
that he was gone over to Long Leate to borrow the money of Lord
W(eymouth?) had in it something truly ridiculous, and serves only to
shew that his Lordship had been never trusted by them.

Gregg dines to-day at Lavie's; I shall go down to meet him there,
and perhaps order my chicken over from Almack's, that I may converse
more en detail with Gregg upon this business of the Annuities. I
like his conversation the best, I own, because I see less resentment
in it. He speaks to the matters of fact, and not to the characters
of the actors, which now is losing of time. God knows how well, and
how universally, all that is established.

The women in town have found this a good morsel for their invective
disposition, and the terms in which they express themselves tiennent
de la frenesie, et de l'entousiasme. Lady Albemarle, who is not a
wise woman, certainly, was at Lady Gower's the other evening, and
was regretting only that Charles had not been consumed in the Fire,
instead of the linnets. I am glad it was no worse. I think your
fears about the rebuilding of the House are not so well founded as
your satisfaction might be, that you had not been drawn in to insure
it. I think that you are more obliged to what he thinks upon that
subject (for he said that he did not believe in fire) than to your
own prudence. I am in daily expectation of the arrival of these late
sufferers at Holl[an]d H(ouse). I wish them all arrived there, I
own, and that they may stay there, and that there may be no real
sufferers by the fire, which there would be if any workmen had begun
to rebuild the House. That would be a case of true compassion.

You desire me to tell you something of Hare and Storer,(99) &c.
Storer, the Bon ton, is still at Lord Craven's. I supped with the
Mauvais ton at Harry St. John's last night. I do not dislike him: he
does not seem to be at all deficient in understanding, and has
besides de la bonne plaisanterie. Hare is in town, and, if I was to
credit his own insinuations, upon the point of bringing his affair
to a conclusion. But I think that he prepares the world too much for
some change in his condition, for he drives about in an old chariot
of Foley's,(100) as I am told, with a servant of his own in livery;
and this occasions so much speculation, that his great secret diu
celari non potest. I would advise him to conclude as soon as he can
this business; sans cela la machine sera d'erangee; elle ne peut
aller jusques au printemps, cela est sur.

The Duke of Buccleugh has said nothing to us as yet about our
anniversary dinner, but I hope that so good a custom will not be
laid aside. If it is, Richard must take it up, as it is his
birthday, and so I shall tell him. I have myself, by all which I
have said upon the history and fate of that unfortunate Prince,
excused myself from giving any sort of fete at my own house; but I
do not carry my rigour so far, as not to accept one on that day at
the house of another person. Voila le point ou ma devotion se prete
un feu. Your letter to Lord Grantham shall be sent to the
Secretary's Office this evening, and some compliments from me at the
same time. I wish that he was here, that I might talk with [him] for
half an hour upon your subject.

(97) Sister of Henry Pelham, niece of Duke of Newcastle (1728-1804).
died at her estate at Esher, in Surrey, leaving a large fortune.

(98) Thomas Foley, second baron (1742-1793). He was noted for his
sporting proclivities; Fox was his racing partner, and the money
they lost, which included a hundred thousand pounds for Lord Foley,
and its replenishing, was a never-ending source of gossip.

(99) Anthony Morris Storer (1746-1799), called the Bon ton, and Lord
Carlisle, were termed the Pylades and Orestes of Eton, and the
intimacy was continued in later life; M.P. for Carlisle
1774-80, and for Morpeth, together with Peter Delime, 1780-4. In
1781 he succeeded in obtaining the appointment as one of the
Commissioners for Trade, in which Selwyn and Carlisle had so deeply
interested themselves. He was with Carlisle on his mission to
America in 1778 and 1779. During their political connection he acted
as a medium between Fox and North, in whose family he was intimate.
Fox made him Secretary of Legation at Paris in 1783--Gibbon
competing for the office, and when the Duke of Manchester was called
home he was nominated as Minister Plenipotentiary; six days later,
however, his friends were no longer in power. It was in this year
that his long friendship with Carlisle was broken; he did not stand
for re-election for Morpeth and revoked the bequest of all his
property which he had made to him. Storer never married. He was
universally admired for his versatility and his proficiency in all
he undertook; he excelled in conversation, music, and literary
attainments; he was the best skater, the best dancer of his time. He
began his valuable and curious collection of books and prints in
1781. On these and card-playing he spent more money than he could
afford, but in 1793, at his father's death, he received an ample
fortune. He then occupied himself building and adorning a property,
Purley, near Reading. He left his library and prints to Eton
College, which also possesses his portrait.

(100) See note (98).


1774, July 23, Chesterfield Street.--I received yesterday a reprieve
from Gloucester, and Harris's sanction for my staying here a week
longer; so that the meeting, and the report of Mr. Guise and Mr.
Burrow's declaring themselves both as candidates upon separate
interests, but secretly assisting one another, were, as Richard the
3rd calls it, a weak device of the enemy. I found myself greatly
relieved, and sat down and wrote a letter to the Mayor and
Corporation, which I may cite as a modele de vrai persiflage. I
went and dined with Lord Ferrars and Lady Townshend;(101) she has
received all her arrears, so we have now the pleasure of continuing
our hostilities les pieds chauds.

Poor Lord Thomond died the evening before last of an apoplexy, with
which he was seized the night before. I thought, as well as himself,
that he was very near his end, and imagined that it would be this.
But the news struck me, for not an hour before he was taken ill he
passed by March's door as he was going to take an airing in Hyde
Park, with Clever in the chariot. I was sitting upon the steps, with
the little girl(103) on my lap, which diverted him, and he made me a
very pleasant bow, and that was my last view of him. I had had an
acquaintance with him of above thirty years, but for some time past
I had seen him only occasionally. He was a sensible honest man, and
when he was in spirits, and with his intimate friends, I think a
very agreeable companion, but had too much reserve to make a
friendship with, and not altogether the character that suits me.

White's begins to crumble away very fast, and would be a melancholy
scene to those who remained if they cared for any one person but
themselves. Williams gave a dinner to talk him over, which I suppose
was done with the voix larmoyante, et voila tout. Lord Monson a
creve aussi, and Tommy Alston, who has left a will in favour of his
bastards, which will occasion lawsuits.

I have made an agreement to meet Varcy to-morrow at Knowles; from
thence we go to Tunbridge; so I shall live on Monday on the
Pantiles, and on Tuesday return here. I dine to-day with the Essex's
at March's; we supped last night at Lady Harrington's, the
consequence of which is to eat a turtle on Tuesday at an alehouse on
the Ranelaugh Road, which she has seized from Lord Barrington. I
called at Lady Mary's first, and found her tres triste.

Lady Holland was thought to be dying yesterday, for Lord Beauchamp
was to have dined there, and at three o'clock a note came from
Ste(104) to desire him not to come. The late Lord Holland's
servants, preserving their friendship for my thief whom I dismissed,
were so good, when their Lord died, to send for him to sit up with
the corpse, as the only piece of preferment which was then vacant in
the family. But they afterwards promoted him to be outrider to the
hearse. Alice told me of it, and said that it was a comfort and
little relief to the poor man for the present; and Mr. More, the
attorney, to whom I mentioned it, said that they intended to throw
him into the same thing--that was the phrase--when Lady Holland
died. I beg you to reflect on these circumstances; they are dignes
de Moliere et Le Sage. How my poor old friend would have laughed, if
he could have known to what hands he was committed before his
interment!

The night before last Meynell lost between 2 and 3,000; what the
rest did I don't know. They abuse both you and me about the
tie,(105) and Hare says, it was the damned[e]st thing to do at this
time in the world. I told them, as Lord Cowper said in his speech to
the Condemned Lords in the year 16--, "Happy had it been for all
your Lordships had you lain under so indulgent a restraint." It is
difficult for me to say which was the kindest thing you ever did by
me, but I am sure that this was one of the wisest which I ever did
by myself; and so remember that I do by this renew the lease for one
month more, and it shall be as if it had been originally for two
months instead of one. To this I subscribe, and to the same forfeit
on my side. I received a consideration ample enough if the lease had
been for a year.

(102) Anne, daughter of Sir William Montgomery, and second wife of
George, first Viscount Townshend.

(103) Maria Fagniani, Selwyn's adopted daughter. This is the first
mention of her in this correspondence.

(104) Stephen Fox, second Baron Holland.

(105) A self-mposed restriction on gambling. The ingenious and
rather childish character of this pledge is described in a letter of
December 1775.


1774, July 26, Tuesday night? Almack's.--Lady Holland, as you
will see by the papers, died on Sunday morning between 7 and 8. I
saw Lady Louisa and Mrs. Meillor coming in Lady Louisa's chariot
between 10 and 11, which announced to me the close of that
melancholy history; I mean, as far as regards my two very old
friends. The loss of the latter, I must own, I feel much the more
sensibly of the two; serrer les files, comme Von dit a Varnee, n'est
pas assez; la perte ne laissera pas de reparoitre, in that I had
counted upon a resource in the one more than in the other.

I went for a minute to see Ste(106) and Lady Mary, and then I set
out for the Duke of Dorset's at Knowles (Knowle Park), where I met
Varcy, and where I dined; and after dinner Varcy and I went to
Tunbridge. We saw Penthurst (sic) yesterday morning, and dined with
his Honour Brudenell, who gave us, that is, Varcy, Mr. and Mrs.
Meynell, and Sir J. Seabright, an excellent dinner. We were at a
private ball at night, and this morning early I set out for London.

Tunbridge is, in my opinion, for a little time in the summer, with a
family, and for people who do not find a great deal of occupation at
their country houses, one of the prettiest places in the world. The
houses are so many bijouzs made up for the occasion, so near the
place, so agreste, and the whole an air of such simplicity, that I
am delighted with it, as much as when my amusements were, as they
were formerly, at the Rooms and upon the Pantiles, which are now to
me detestable.

I was pressed much to stay there to-day to dine with Meynell upon a
haunch of venison, but I had solemnly engaged myself to Lady
Harrington, and to her party at Spring Garden, on the road to
Ranelagh. We had a very good turtle. Our company were, Lord and Lady
Harrington, Lady Harriot,(107) Lady A., Maria Ord, Mrs. Boothby,
Richard(108) from his quarters at Hampton Court, Crags, Lord
Barrington, Barker, Langlois, and myself.

March went yesterday to Newmarket, and left a letter behind for me,
to excuse him to the party; he returns on Thursday. Here is not one
single soul in this house, but I came here to write to you plus a
mon aise. Lady Mary Howard was at Tunbridge, and asked much after
you; Lady Powis, the Duke of Leeds, hardly anybody besides that I
knew. Gen. Smith came there yesterday, and I believe was in hopes of
making up a hazard table; at last Lord Killy (Kelly?) said that I
might have one if I pleased.

Charles and Ste, &c., are gone for the present to Red Rice. I was in
hopes of seeing Storer to-day, but this damned turtle party has kept
me so late that I doubt if I shall see him to-night. I met him on
the road, as I was going to Knowles, on his return from Tunbridge,
and he then told me that he should set out for Castle Howard
to-morrow, and would have set out to-day, but that I begged that I
might see him first.

They can find no will of Lord Thomond's as yet; so his poor nephew
will by his procrastination be the loser of a considerable estate;
for he certainly intended to have made him his heir, and the
attorney had left with him a will to be filled up. But we are never
sure of doing anything but what we have but one minute for doing;
what we think we may do any day, we put off so many days that we do
not do it all.

This reflection, and the experience which I have had in other
families of the consequences of these delays, determined me to lose
no time in settling, for my dear Mie Mie, that which may be the only
thing done for her, and only because we-may do it any day in the
week. But I thank God I've secured, as much as anything of that
nature can be secured, what will be, I hope, a very comfortable
resource for her. I am egregiously deceived if it will not. As for
other things,' I must hope for the best. It makes me very serious
when I think of it, because my affection and anxiety about her are
beyond conception.

I shall not think of setting out for Gloucester, unless there is
some new occurrence, till next week. I have had no fresh alarm. The
lawyers are going on furiously and sanguinely against the Duchess of
Kingston,(109) who is, they say, at Calais. Feilding also complains
of her; so elle s'est bromllee avec la justice au pied de la lettre.
Nobody doubts of her felony; the only debate in conversation is,
whether she can have the benefit of her clergy. Some think she will
turn Papist. All expect some untimely death. C'est un execrable
personage que celui que (sic) fait mon voisin.

James has cut out work enough for himself in Hertfordshire; il s'en
repentira, ou je me trompe fort. Adieu; my best compliments to Lady
Carlisle and Lady Julia, and my love to the little ones. I long to
see the boy excessively. I hear of your returning to London in
September; pray let me hear your motions very particularly, and if
you bring up the children. I am ever most truly and affectionately
yours.

(106) Second Lord Holland.

(107) Lady Henrietta Stanhope, daughter of second Earl of
Harrington. She married Lord Foley in 1776, and died 1781.

(108) Fitzpatrick in this correspondence is usually spoken of as
Richard.

(109) Elizabeth Chudleigh, Duchess of Kingston (1720-1788). The celebrated
public trial of the Duchess of Kingston for bigamy took place in
Westminster Hall, April, 1776. It was proved that she had privately
married Augustus, second son of Lord Hervey, but the marriage was
not owned. She lived publicly with the Duke of Kingston and finally
married him during Mr. Hervey's life, but at the death of the Duke,
who left her all his disposable property, proceedings were
instituted against her and she was found guilty. She afterwards went
to St. Petersburg, where she gave an entertainment for the Empress
Catherine said to be more splendid than had ever been seen in
Russia. She bought an estate near St. Petersburg, calling it by her
maiden name of Chudleigh, where she intended to manufacture brandy,
but found herself so coldly treated by the English ambassador and
Russian nobility that she removed to France, where she became
involved in a lawsuit regarding the purchase of Another estate. The
chagrin at loss of the case caused her death.


[1774,] July 30, Saturday night, Almack's.--I write my letter from
hence, from the habitude of making this place my bureau, not that
there is anybody here, or that there was the least probability of my
finding anybody here. The last post night I was obliged to have an
amanuensis, as you will know to-morrow morning when the post comes
in. I had got a small particle of shining sand in my eye that during
the whole day, but particularly at night, gave me most exquisite
pain, and prevented me from writing to you, which, next to receiving
your letters, is one of my great pleasures. So this was un grand
evenement pour moi, par une petite cause. While the writer was
writing, Hare came in, and he said that he would finish the letter
for me, but what they both wrote God knows.

Storer I suppose set out yesterday for Castle H(oward), and I take
for granted will be with you before this letter. March has been out
of town ever since Monday till to-day. He has been at a Mr. Darell's
in Cambridgeshire, who has a wife I believe with a black eye and low
forward [forehead]. I guessed as much by his stay, and young Thomas
who came up with him to town told me it was so.

I supped last night at Lady Hertford's with the two Fitzroys, Miss
Floyd, and Lord F. Cavendish;(110) and to-day, Lady Hertford, Miss
Floyd, and Lord Frederick and I dined at Colonel Kane's, who is
settled in the Stable Yard, and in a damned good house, plate,
windows cut down to the floor, elbowing his Majesty with an enormous
bow window. The dog is monstrously well nipped; he obtrudes his
civilities upon me, malgre que j'en ai, and will in time force me
not to abuse him. He would help me to-day to some venison, and how
he contrived it, I don't know, but for want of the Graces he cut one
of my fingers to the bone, that I might as well have dined at a
cut-fingered ordinary.

I am diverted with your threats that I shall have short letters,
because you are plagued with Northumberland disputes. You say that
you have every post letters to write, and so you will have them to
write for some time, for the Devil take me if I believe that you
have wrote or will write one of them. A good ronfle for that, an't
please your Honour, with about twenty sheets of paper spread about
upon the table, and on each of them the beginning of a letter.

You know me very well also in thinking that my heart fails me as the
time of my going to Gloucester approaches. I made a very stout
resistance a fortnight ago, notwithstanding Harris's importunate
summons, and now he plainly confesses in a letter which I received
from him to-day, that my coming down upon that pretended meeting
would have been nugatory, as he calls it. The Devil take them; I
have wished him and his Corporation in Newgate a thousand times. But
there will be no trifling after the end of this next week. The
Assizes begin on Monday sevennight. Then the Judges will be met, a
terrible show, for I shall be obliged to dine with them, and be in
more danger from their infernal cooks than any of the criminals who
are to be tried, excepting those who will be so unfortunate as to
have our jurisconsult for their advocate.

I would not advise you to be unhappy about Caroline's(111) want of
erudition; a very little science will do at present, and much cannot
be poured into the neck of so small a vessel at once. I agree with
you that it is not to be wished that she should be a savante, and
she will know what others know. I have no doubt there is time enough
for her to read, and little Morpeth(112) to walk.

There is, I grant you, more reason to fear for Hare. Boothby(113)
assures me that as yet no prejudice has been done to his fortune. I
have my doubts of that, but am clear that he runs constant risk of
being very uneasy. But there is no talking to him; he has imbibed so
much of Charles's ton of qu'importe, que cela peut mener a
l'hopital.

Lady Holland(114) will be removed on Monday, and my thief one of her
outriders. All Lord Holland's servants, since he had that house at
Kingsgate, have been professed smugglers, and John, as I am
informed, was employed in vending for them some of their contraband
goods, for which he was to be allowed a profit. He sold the goods,
and never accounted with his principals for a farthing; and so now
they place him to sit up with the corps[e] of the family, and to act
as one of their undertakers, that they may be in part reimbursed.
This is the dessous des cartes, qui est veritablement comique, et
singulier. Ste, &c., will be here about the end of the week.

I hear that the night that Charles sat up at White's, which was that
preceding the night of Lady Holland's death, he planned out a kind
of itinerant trade, which was going from horse race to horse race,
and so, by knowing the value and speed of all the horses in England,
to acquire a certain fortune.

I learned from Bore to-day, that Sir G. M'Cartney is a debtor to the
family as well as myself, and his debt is to the amount of five
thousand pounds, which I am afraid he will find it difficult to
raise.

Blaquiere and George Howard are to have two Red Ribbands on
Wednesday. There is no end to the honours of your family. I have
entrusted Lady Carlisle's picture, I mean your grandmother's, to
Linnell, to be framed and cleaned, and then it will be sent to
Castle Howard. March I hear goes to Huntingdon next Tuesday.

I think that I shall set out on Thursday next, or if my heart fails
me, not till Saturday. I shall then be time enough to meet these
Judges, who do not begin to poison and hang till Monday. Lady Mary
has promised to make me a present of the little antique ring which
you gave to Lord Holland.

Did I tell you that I saw Lord Ilchester?(115) He shewed me a letter
which he had received from Ste on his mother's death, and some
trifling things which had belonged to Lord H(olland). Lord Ilchester
was extremely pleased with this mark of his affection, and indeed
the letter was a very kind and well-bred letter as any I ever read.

I find Lord Thomond most excessively blamed in having neglected to
make his will, so that he has died at last en mauvaise odeur with
his White's friends. I cannot but think, as he was so remarkably
methodical, that he intended, by making no will, that the estate
should go where the law directs, especially as the second son of his
brother has besides so ample a fortune.

Williams has been giving a different account of the public money
left in Lord Holland's hands from any which I ever before heard. He,
Walters, Offley, and March dined at White's. I called in there after
dinner. Williams said that a calculation is made of what the
interest of that money will amount to from this time to the
settlement of the account; and that it is to be made capital, and is
part of what is due to the public. I protest I don't understand him,
nor do I conceive what the residue of the personal estate will
amount to; but not to much, as the opinion of the family is. The
reports, and belief of those who are not in the secret, are out of
all credibility.

Lady Holland's second will, or codicil, will not be opened till the
family returns to town. Everybody is inquisitive to know if you and
Foley are safe. Il est merveilleux l'interet que tout le monde prend
a tout ceci, aussi bien qu'au manage de notre Prince, dont je ne
saurois pour dire des nouvelles. Meynell, Panton, and James are in
Hertfordshire, and the highty-tighty man at Port Hill in the damnest
(sic) fright in the world about the small-pox. I hope the poor devil
will get over it.

Adieu, my dear lord. If I was prevented from writing by last post,
cette fois-ci je m'en suis bein venge. . . .

I see your porter every morning in the grove, as he returns from
Islington, where he is drinking the waters; he looks a little
better, but not much. They have lent him a horse to ride there, and
he says that he finds the air where he is to agree better with him
than that of the country.

Pray tell Shepardson that I ask after her, and my compliments to Mr.
Willoughby, if you see him. I have demonstrated to Sir G. Metham
that I [am] originally a Yorkshire man, and that my name is
Salveyne; and he says that the best Yorkshire blood does at this
time run through my veins, and so I hope it will for some time
before the circulation of it is stopped.

(110) A distinguished soldier, afterwards Field-Marshal (1738-1803).

(111) Eldest daughter of the Earl of Carlisle; married, 1789, John
Campbell, who was created first Lord Cawdor; she died 1848.

(112) George, Lord Morpeth, afterwards sixth Earl of Carlisle
(1773-1848). In this correspondence Selwyn often refers to him as
George. Selwyn had a strong affection for him, and treated him with
sympathy and tact.

(113) Sir Brooke Boothby (1743-1824). One of the fashionable young
men of the period. He devoted himself particularly, however, to
literary society, and published verses, and political and classical
works. He lived for a time in France, and was a friend of Rousseau.

(114) Lady Holland died on July 24th.

(115) Stephen Fox, first Earl of Ilchester (1704-1776), the elder
brother of Henry, first Lord Holland.



The duties of a country gentleman and a Member of Parliament, the
boredom of a visit to a constituency could not always be avoided by
Selwyn. Thus the two following letters are written from
Gloucestershire.

(1774,) Aug. 9, Tuesday, Gloucester.--I set out from London on
Saturday last, as intended, and came to Matson the next day to
dinner. I found our learned Counsel in my garden; he dined with me,
and lay at my house, and the next morning he came with me in my
chaise to this place for the Assizes. I have seen little of him
since, being chiefly in the Grand Jury chamber, but I take it for
granted that till this morning that he set out for London his hands
were full of business, and the two men condemned were his clients,
who were condemned only par provision till he had drawn up the case.

This town has been very full of the neighbouring gentlemen, and I
suppose the approaching elections have been the cause of it. I am
not personally menaced with any opposition, but have a great dread
of one, because the contentions among those who live in the country
and have nothing else to do but to quarrel, are so great, that
without intending to hurt me, they will stir up trouble and
opposition, which will be both hazardous and expensive. I am
tormented to take a part in I know not what, and with I know not
whom, and my difficulty is to keep off the solicitation of my
friends, as they call themselves, who want a bustle, the expense of
which is not to be defrayed by themselves.

I do assure you that it is a monstrous oppression of spirits which I
feel, and which I would not feel for an hour if I had nobody's
happiness to think of but my own, which would be much more secured
by a total renunciation of Parliament, Ministers, and Boroughs than
by pursuing the emoluments attached to those connections. However,
as it is the last time that I shall ever have anything to do of this
kind, I will endeavour to keep up my spirits as well as I can; but I
must declare to you that it is an undertaking that is most grievous
to me, that I am ashamed of, and that neither the established
custom of the country [n]or the nature of our Government does by any
means reconcile to me.

I have dinners of one sort or other till Tuesday, and then I purpose
to set out for London, unless some unforeseen event prevents me.
Horry Walpole has a project of coming into this part of the world
the end of this week, and, if he does, of coming to me on Saturday.
I shall be glad to converse with anybody whose ideas are more
intelligible than those of the persons I am now with. But I do not
depend much upon seeing him.

The weather is very fine, and Matson in as great beauty as a place
can be in, but the beauties of it make very little impression upon
me. In short, there is nothing in this eccentric situation in which
I am now that can afford me the least pleasure, and everything I
love to see in the world is at a distance from me. All I do is so
par maniere d'acquit, et de si mauvaise grace, that I am surprised
at the civility with which I am treated.

I am in daily hopes of hearing from you. I am sorry that the
children are to be left behind; that is, that their health, which is
a valuable consideration, makes it prudential. I shall be happy when
I see them again, but it is not in my power to fix the time any more
than the means of my happiness. . . .

Storer has little to do than to sing, Se caro sei, and to write to
me, and therefore pray make him write. Richard the Third is to be
acted here to-night. I will go and see an act of it, pour me
desennuyer.


(1774,) Aug. 13, Saturday, Matson.--As you are one of the first
persons who occupies my thoughts when I awake, so it shall be a rule
with me hereafter, when I am to write to you, to make that my first
business, and not defer, as I have these two last posts, writing
till the evening, when it is more probable, at least in this place,
to suffer some interruption. This looks like an apology for what I
am sure needs none; it requires much more, that I seem to have
established it as a rule to trouble you so often. I have not here
the shallow pretence of telling you some little occurrence[s] which
can hardly be interesting in the Parish of St. James's, but when
they are confined to this spot. I can have no reason for pestering
you with them, but par un esprit de bavardise, ou pour me rappeler
plus souvent a votre souvenir; ce que votre amitie a rendu pour moi
tres inutile.

I have this whole week been immersed in all the provincial business
of a justice, a juryman, and a candidate; and yesterday was forced
to open my trenches before the town as one who intended to humbug
them for one seven years more.

J'ignore le destin qui le ciel me prepare,
 Mais il est temps enfin qu' larbe se declare.

I entertained the whole Corporation (of the City of Gloucester)
yesterday at dinner, and afterwards made them a speech, which I am
glad that nobody heard but themselves. However i'ai reussi, I do not
mean in point of eloquence, but I carried my point; and if it was
possible to judge from the event of one meeting only, I should think
that there would be a peaceable election, and the expense not exceed
many hundred pounds, and those given chiefly to the service of the
city. But if [I] did not make my escape, and parry off all the
proposals made to me by the people whose whole employment is to
create disturbance, I should soon be drawn into a contest from which
I should not escape but at the expense of thousands.

At night I heard that Mr. Walpole is here; I was then at Gloucester;
so I hurried home, and have now some person to converse with who
speaks my own language. He came yesterday from Lady Ailesbury's, and
stays with me till Tuesday, and then I hope we shall return to
London together. I am to have the satisfaction of another festival
on Monday, on which day Mr. Walpole proposes to go and see Berkley
and Thornbury Castles.

I have had the advantage of very fine weather, and should have had
all the benefit of it if I was in any place but where my mind has so
many disagreeable occupations, and my stomach so many things which
it cannot digest. But it is chiefly their liquors, which are like so
much gin. The civility which they shew me, I may say indeed the
friendship which I have from some of these people, make me very
sorry that I cannot prevail on myself to stay a little longer with
them; but in regard to that, I can hardly save appearances, either
by staying, or by forbearing while I do stay to shew them what a
pain it is to me.

Your friend Mr. Howard, who is to be Duke of Norfolk, and who by his
wife is in possession of a great estate in my neighbourhood, takes
so much pains to recommend himself to my Corporation that we are at
a loss to know the source of his generosity. I have no personal
acquaintance with him, but as a member of the Corporation have a
permission to send for what venison we want. He has some charming
ruins of an abbey within a mile from hence, with which I intend to
entertain Mr. Walpole, and if that is not enough, I must throw in
the mazures of this old building, which, I believe, will not hold
out this century.

Horry tells me that a scheme has been formed, of replacing Charles,
but that Lord North will not hear of it. I should certainly myself
have the same repugnance. But as I love Charles more than I do the
other, I wish that, or anything which can put him once more in a way
of establishment. I shall however not have any hopes of that, till
he is less intoxicated than he is with the all sufficiency, as he
imagines, of his parts. I think that, and his infinite contempt of
the qu'en dira-t-on, upon every point which governs the rest of
mankind, are the two and (sic) chief sources of all his misfortunes.

Ste, they tell me, has come to a resolution of selling Holland
H(ouse) as soon as possible, and of rebuilding Winterslow. If Lady
Holland had not died just as she did, I believe that I should have
had him and Lady Mary here for some days, which I should have liked
very well.

I have got a prize in Barbot's Lottery, as it may be Conty has told
you. I left a man in London, when I came away, with a commission to
see that justice was done me, and to send my pye, if I should have
one, into Kent. Mine is a quatre perdrises (sic); so I have no
reason to complain of Conty's Lotteries, for I have had a prize in
both of them.

If you intend to buy a ticket in the State Lottery, I should be glad
to have a share of it with Lady C(arlisle), Lord Morpeth, and little
Caroline, that is, one ticket between us five. Three of my tenants
joined for one in the Lottery two or three years since, and they got
a 20,000 pound prize. I made a visit to one of them the other day,
whose farm is not far off, and he had made it the prettiest in the
world; and he has three children to share his 10,000, for one moiety
of this ticket was his.

Pray make my very best compliments to Lady C. and Lady J.,(116) and
give my hearty love to Caroline; and as for the little Marmot, tell
him that if he treats his sister with great attention I shall love
him excessively, but s'il fait le fier, because he is a Viscount and
a Howard, I shall give him several spanks upon his dernere. Make
Storer write to me, and make Ekins read Atterbury till he can say
him by heart.

(116) Lady Juliana Howard was Lord Carlisle's youngest sister. She
died unmarried.


By the end of August, Selwyn had escaped from Gloucester and was
again among his friends and in his favourite haunts in London.


[1774,] Aug. 25, Thursday night, Almack's.--Here are the Duke of
Roxb[urgh], Vernon, James, and Sir W. Draper at Whist; Boothby,
Richard, and R. Fletcher at Quinze. I dined to-day at the Duke of
Argyle's(117) at a quarter before four. He and the Duchess went to
Richmond at six. The maccaroni dinner was at Mannin's. My eyes are
still very painful to me at night, and I do not know what I shall do
for them. I hear of no news; that of the Duchess of Leinster's(118)
match is very equivoque; and extreme their drawing-room.

I (am) in constant expectation of being sent for again to
Gloucester, and begin (sic) a canvas. I think if I prevent it, and
an opposition, I shall be very vain of my conduct. There is nothing
so flattering as the shewing people who thought that they could dupe
you, that you know more of the matter than they do. I know too
little to be active, but have prudence enough to take no steps while
I am in the dark upon the suggestion of others who cannot possibly
interest themselves for me. But I really think it will be a miracle
if this is not a troublesome and expensive Election to me. However,
I will not anticipate the evil by groaning about it before it
happens. . . .

The Duke of Newcastle is to bring Will Hanger into Parliament, but
what is to pay for his chair to go down to the House the Lord knows;
they tell me that there is absolutely not a shilling left.

(117) John, fifth Duke of Argyll (1723-1806). He had married for his
second wife the Duchess of Hamilton, nee Gunning, the famous beauty.

(118) Lady Amelia Mary (1731-1814), daughter of Charles, second Duke
of Richmond, as celebrated for her beauty and charm as her sisters,
Lady Holland, Lady Louisa Connolly, and Lady Sarah Bunbury, The
reference is evidently to her approaching second marriage to Mr.
Ogilvy.


The correspondence of 1775 begins with the frequent story of Charles
Fox's debts. It has been well said of Carlisle, that each fresh
instance of prodigality in Fox "affected his generous heart with
anxiety for the character, the health, and the happiness of his
friend before he found time to compute and lament its calamitous
influence on his own fortunes."(119) Selwyn's solicitude for the
welfare of his friend urged him, as we see in the following letter,
to something like impatient expostulation on his forbearance and
good nature.


(1775?) (Beginning wanting.) . . . Gregg wants me to dun Charles. He
lost last night 800 pounds, as Brooks told me to-day. He receives
money from More the Attorney. He forestalls all he is to receive,
and unless the importunity begins with you, mine will avail nothing.
Besides, I fairly own that I cannot keep my temper. My ideas,
education, and former experience, or inexperience, of these things,
make me see some things in the most horrible light which you can
conceive, and I am far from being singular. Pray write a letter to
Charles, a tella fin que de raison; otherwise there will be no
ability left, and then it will be to no purpose.

What management you choose to have with him is more than I can
comprehend. I can conceive the intimacy between you. Your delicacy
of temper, ten thousand nuances de sentiments. But I can never
conceive that all feeling, all the principle, &c., should be of one
side only. If you don't press it, he will not think it pressing, and
will say so; that must depend upon what you choose to reveal. He may
not think you want it, or may think that all mire in which he
wallows is as indifferent to you as to him. Je me perds dans toutes
ces reflections. My God, if they did not concern you, I should not
care who were the objects of them.

(119) "The Early History of Charles James Fox," p. 460.


1775, Aug. 1, Tuesday afternoon, from your own house, below stairs.
--I came from Richmond this morning on purpose to meet Gregg here to
dinner, and we have had our leg of mutton together; a poor epitome
of Roman greatness. I believe, as Lord Grantham told me, few have
so little philosophy as I have. You have a great deal, having a much
more manly understanding. . . .

I have been misunderstood about Stavordale, because just what you
tell me you approve of is what I meant to propose, or if I had any
conception beyond it, it was from a sudden thought which I retract.
I have said a few words to Charles, but I do not find that he has
more intercourse with him than you have. He says that there can be
no doubt of the validity and payment of the debt, and there is no
anticipation of it. But it is not to be expected that Charles should
think more of Stavordale's debt than his own. He lost in three
nights last week 3,000, as he told me himself, and has lent Richard
God knows what; the account, and friendship, and want of it, between
them is as incomprehensible to me as all the rest of their history.
It is a mystery I shall never enquire into, when what concerns you
is out of the question. I never heard of the same thing in all the
first part of my life, and it shall be my own fault if I hear any
more of it.

I rode over yesterday to Lord Besborough's at Roehampton, on purpose
to see Lord Fitzwilliam,(120) and had a long discourse with him in
the garden. He was excessively pleased with the account which I gave
him of the present state of your affairs, together with your manner
of expressing yourself about them. Every word which dropped from him
discovered the real interest which he took in whatever concerned
you, and his affection for you. He is a very valuable young man.

Hare went away without being certain that he was to go to Castle H.
He will excuse me if I don't rely upon his resolutions in parties of
pleasure. But I should have been glad to have known for a certainty
that he was to have set out. I believe March's money and mine helped
to grease his wheels. March deserves to have lost his, because he
was the seducer. I could not have lost mine if he had kept me to my
obligation; but I will not resign my fetters any more. Welcome, my
chains; welcome, Mr. Lowman, the keeper. I am glad it went no
further.

(120) William Wentworth Fitzwilliam, second Earl Fitzwilliam (
1748-1863). He began at Eton his lifelong friendship with Fox and
Carlisle. In 1794 he was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.


(1775, Aug.?.)--I am just come from Almack's. Many are gone to the
Thatched House,(121) to sup with the ladies, as they call it. These
ladies are Lady Essex and Miss Amyas(?). Richard won last night
1,300 ostensible, besides what he pocketed to keep a corps de
reserve unknown to Brooks. For Brooks lent him 2,300, and then
laments the state of the house. He duns me for three hundred, of
which I am determined to give him but two; as he knows so well where
to get the other hundred, which is that Richard owes me, but seems
determined that I shall not have. Charles is winning more, and the
quinze table is now at its height. I have set down Brooks to be the
completest composition of knave and fool that ever was, to which I
may add liar. You say very true, that I have been in a bank, that I
have lost my money, that I want to get it back; but it is as true
that I shall make no attempt to get it back till my affairs are
quite in another posture from what they are at present; so pray give
me no flings about it, for I lay all the blame upon March, who
should not have contributed to it.

(121) The Thatched House Tavern in St. James's Street stood on the
site of the present Conservative Club. Various well-known clubs were
in the habit of meeting here, notably the Society of Dilettanti
which was formed in 1734, of it Walpole wrote that "the nominal
qualification is having been in Italy and the real one being drunk."

(1775,) Sept. 1, Friday, Richmond.--I have omitted, contrary to my
usual custom, two posts, the writing to you, which being out of
course may perhaps make you at a loss to guess what is become of me.
I am here with Mie Mie, and shall be so for ten or twelve days
longer, and then the weather being cool and the days grown short, I
shall find the evenings too tedious to myself and not very
beneficial to her, which would undoubtedly be with me the first
consideration. My journey to Castle H(oward) I would not postpone,
if the postponing of it was the prevention of it.

But as I am determined to go there, and it is not as I apprehend
material whether it be the first week of this month or of the next,
I have submitted to those who desire to govern me in this matter,
and that is in regard to Luggershall. My lawyers and Mr. T.
Townshend,(122) who is the heir of entail to that estate, have
entreated me not to omit any longer the holding what they call a
Court Leet.

Mr. Grenville's Bill, as I apprehended that it would, has made it
very dangerous to omit any forms which the law prescribes, and the
failure of what I am enjoined as lord of the manor to do by the
charter would certainly be very prejudicial upon an enquiry, and
perhaps lay me open to an opposition, which could never be made to
my interests or property there without such negligence.

For this reason I must either postpone my journey to Castle H(oward)
till after that, or make my stay there if I go before too short.
This is my present arrangement, which, however important it may be
represented to be, should be altered if I could be essentially
useful to you or to your affairs by it. I beg that you will not omit
to acquaint Mr. Gregg with this, who will see immediately the
necessity of it.

I could indeed have set out as I originally intended so as to have
met you upon your return, and should have done it if I could have
prevailed upon M(arch?) to have allowed me to do what I am now
doing, by which I flatter myself to bring about what will be in many
respects of use to that little infant, who has very little thought
bestowed upon her but by my means. It is a sore grievance to me, but
it is my lot and I must endure it.

My excursions to town are not above once in six days. On Saturday
last on my return hither I was indeed very near demolished. My
coachman thought fit to run for the turnpike, as the phrase is, and
against a four-wheeled waggon with six horses. He seemed to me to
have very little chance of carrying his point, if it was not to
demolish me and my chaise, but almost sure of succeeding in that. I
called, roared, and scolded to no purpose, il ne daigna pas
m'ecouter un instant: so the consequence was, what might be
expected, he came with all the force imaginable against the turnpike
gate, (and) set my chaise upon its head. Mr. Craufurd was with me,
and on the left side, which was uppermost, and we were for a small
space of time lying under the horses, at their mercy, and the
waggoner's, who seemed very much inclined to whip them on, and from
one or other, that is, either from the going of the waggon over us,
or the kicking of the horses, we were both in the most imminent
danger. Lady Harrington was in her coach just behind us, and took me
into it, Mr. Craufurd got into Mr. Henry Stanhope's phaeton, and so
we went to Richmond, leaving the chaise, as we thought, all
shattered to pieces in the road. This happened just after I had
finished my last letter to you, and which I think had very near been
the last that I should ever have wrote to you, as those tell me who
saw the position in which we for some time were.

Postscript. Richmond, Saturday morning.--I received to-day yours
from C(astle) H(oward) of last Monday, the 28th August, and you may
be sure that it is no small pleasure to me to find by every letter
which I receive, that there is such an attention to your affairs, as
is really worthy your understanding and capacity. You will find your
account in it, by preventing ennui in yourself and roguery in
others, besides a thousand train (sic) of evils that are inseparable
from dissipation and negligence. I hope that you made my compliments
to Mr. Nicolson; il a l'air d'un personnage tres respectable, d'un
homme affide et sur. I cannot afford to wish any period of mine, at
ever so little distance, to be arrived, but I am tempted to wish
that I was two years older, for this reason, that I am confident
your affairs, and the state of your mind, will be pleasanter than it
has been in for a great while. So my wife(123) has made you another
agreeable visit for a fortnight, as she called it. I am sorry for
what you tell me of the visit which was not made. I don't love
excuses, but perhaps there may be some which need not give any
jealousy of want of true affection. I hope you will receive mine as
such, or I would set out for C(astle) H(oward) directly. I have
totally laid aside the thoughts of going this year to Matson, or
even to Gloucester. I have no engagement, but to be one day at
Luggershall, but that with difficulty can be dispensed with. Neither
Lord N(orth) or his Parliament, or anything else shall prevent me
from going to you when you desire it.

But the alteration in the little girl is so visibly for the better,
since she has been in this air, and Mrs. Craufurd acts so much like
a guardian to her, that I am in hopes by degrees to be the means of
placing her where my mind will for the present be easy about her,
and that she may be brought up with that education that, with the
help of other advantages, may in some measure recompense her for the
ill fortune of the first part of her life. This is, if my heart was
kid open, all that you could see in it at present, except the
anxiety which is now almost over in regard to you.

For I verily believe that what has happened, although it came upon
me like coup de tonnerre, and has given me a great deal of bile, and
my stomach I find weakened from that cause, more than from any
other,--for I'm more and more abstemious every day,--yet I now see
that all will end well, and that in the meantime neither you (n)or
Lady C(arlisle) will make yourselves uneasy by placing things before
you in a wrong light.

I will speak to Ridley when I go to town, but scolding increases my
bile, and so to avoid it I sent that coachman who had like to have
destroyed me this day sevennight out of my sight, and his horses,
without seeing him.

You say that C(harles) will receive four or five thousand from Lord
S(tavordale?) upon the same account. Je le crois, and others will
soon after receive it from him, but I am afraid not you. You may be
sure that he said nothing to me of that; he does not talk of his
resources to me, except that of his Administration, which you will
be so just to me as to recollect that I never gave any credit to,
because he knows how I desire that those resources may be applied.
On the contrary, when I spoke to him the other day about your
demand, I was answered only with an elevation de ses epaules et une
grimace dont je fus tant soit feu pique. But it is so. I shall say
no more to him upon that or any other subject than I can help. La
coupe de son esprit, quelque brillante quelle puisse etre, n'est pas
telle qui me charme et luisera par la suite pour le mains inutile.

I am now going in my chaise to dine at Mr. Digby's, ou cette branche
de la famille ne sera pas traitee avec beaucoup de management; and
first I am going to write a letter to my Lord Chancellor to thank
him for a living which he has given to a friend of mine at
Gloucester, accompanied with the most obliging letter to me in the
world. This and yours have put me to-day in very good humour. We had
an assembly last night at Mrs. Craufurd's for Lady Cowper, Lady
Harrington, Lady H. Vernon, &c., and Mie Mie was permitted to sit up
till nine. She wanted to see "an sembelly," as she calls it, and
was mightily pleased. . . .

(122) Thomas Townshend (1733-1800), afterward first Viscount Sydney,
was Selwyn's nephew. He was Secretary of War in 1782, and in 1783
Secretary of State, when he initiated the policy of sending convicts
beyond the seas as colonists. Sydney in Australia was named after
him. His second daughter married the second Earl of Chatham, and his
fourth daughter married the fourth Duke of Buccleugh--"the
beautiful, the kind, the affectionate, and generous Duchess" of Sir
Walter Scott.

(123) A joking allusion to one of his friends.



(1775,) Oct. 7, Saturday night.--I returned from Luggershall
yesterday, a day later than I was in hopes to have come, for I was
made to believe that the Court Leet, which was my object in going,
would have been held on Wednesday; however I passed a day
extraordinary better than I expected in that beggarly place. I made
an acquaintance with a neighbouring gentleman, who has a very good
estate, and a delightful old mansion, where I played at whist and
supped on Wednesday evening. He is a descendant of the Speaker
Smith, and son of that Mr. Ashton whom we saw at Trentham, or whom I
saw there the first'time I went, and who was an evidence against me
at Oxford 30 years ago--a sad rascal; but the son is un garcon fort
honnete, and he received me with extraordinary marks of civility and
good breeding.

We have the same relations, and his house was furnished with many of
their pictures. There was one of a great grandmother of mine, who
was the Speaker's sister, painted by Sir P. Lely, that was one of
the best portraits I ever saw. I wish Sir J. Reynolds had been there
to have told me why those colours were so fine and looked as if they
were not dry, while all his are as lamb (sic) black in comparison of
them. I am to have a copy of this picture next spring.

I shall appoint Gregg on Monday to meet me on business, and I will
therefore defer talking upon that subject till I have seen him.
Storer dined with me to-day. Hare and Charles I am told have lost
everything they had at Newmarket. General Smith has been the winner.
Richard also is stripped. No company in town as yet, or news. I have
been writing Gloucester letters to-night about this damned contest
till I am blind, so I must be short. Ridley has assured me that he
has sent the books.

Have you read the Anecdotes of Me du Barri? They are to me amusing.
The book is I think a true picture of the latter end of the life and
court of that weak wretch Louis XV., not overcharged, and so many of
the facts being incontestable, you may take the whole story for a
true one, no one part being more improbable than another. Will you
have it sent? It is dear, half-a-guinea; un recit trop graveleux
pour etre recommande aux dames. My most affectionate compliments,
and so adieu. My eyes grow too dim to write, but are infinitely
mended.

I dine to-morrow at the Ambassador's, and after dinner we go to make
our visits at Richmond to Lady Fawkener, and to Petersham. I thank
you for your idea of Emily(124): j'en profiterai; I can depend upon
no other's.

(124) Edward Emly, Dean of Derry. Selwyn always writes of him as
"Emily": in a letter of March 24, 1781, he calls him "Mr. Dean
Emily."


In the midst of the news of the gaieties of the town, of the begging
of political placemen for a higher rank in the peerage, we now come
upon the question of America. The English people had not yet
appreciated the momentous struggle into which the King and his
ministers had drawn their country. The flippancy with which Selwyn
alludes to the rebellion is indicative of the general state of
opinion even among those who were constantly at the centre of
political affairs. The battle of Bunker's Hill had been fought on
the 17th of the preceding June, and yet to Selwyn the struggle
beyond the Atlantic was merely a "little dispute."


(1775,) Oct. 11, Wednesday m(orning).--I went last night after I had
sent my letters to the post, which by the way was not till past ten,
to Lady Betty's. There were with her Lady Julia, Gregg, and a Mr.
Owen at whist. There were Hare, Delme,(125) and his odd-looking
parson, who came to town to christen the child. I went from thence
and supped at Lady Hertford's, with Lord Fr(ederick) Cavendish, Mrs.
Howe, and the Beau Richard, who is returned from Jamaica. His friend
Colonel Kane has got the start of him since he went dans la carriere
politique, mais le bon Colonel est un peu plus intriguant que son
camarade; celui-ci est certainement un charactere bien sauvage, un
melange d'irlandois et de Creol, et avec tout cela, un fort honnete
garcon. . . .

You pant after news from America; there are none pour le moment.
But you may depend upon it, if that little dispute interests you, I
will let you know, quand le monde sera rassemble, tout ce que
j'apprens, et de bon lieu.

Charles assures us that nothing is so easy as to put an end to all
this, but then there must be a change of Ministry, quelconque, no
matter what, as a preliminary assurance to the Insurgents; and then
for the inference, under any change he can't allow himself to take
an employment, and lay more money upon shark(s?). But there will be
no change yet, I am confident, and when there is, he will as much
want another.

They now doubt of Southwell's peerage,(126) after all the bustle in
our country. All the claimants for new peerages oppose it with their
clamours, as if this was a creation, and taking it for granted that
the King is to accept their interpretations instead of his own. I
suppose, if he fulfilled all his engagements upon that score, there
would be an addition to the House of Lords equal to the present
number.

Ergo, if I was King, I should expunge the whole debt, and begin sur
nouveaux fraix. I think that I should have answer ready to make to
my Minister against those promises. I should tell him, if my affairs
required a Sir G. Hawke or who(m) you please to be made a peer, it
should be down (done) sur le champ, but I would not be hampered by
engagements. Qu'en pensez-vous, Seigneur? I take it for granted that
Lord Gower will be here soon. I have desired Gregg to wait on him
with an account of all that has passed in your affairs during my
regency, because Gregg will be better able to state the matter to
him, and to explain the necessity I have been under, by an
unexpected increase of demands, of transcending the bounds of the
deed, as well as to satisfy him upon your own domestic economy,
which is certainly by all accounts irreprehensible.

(125) Peter Delme, married in 1769 to Lady Elizabeth Howard, Lord
Carlisle's sister; he was called Peter the Czar, in allusion to his
great wealth, which, however, he and Lady Betty very much reduced by
high play. He shot himself in Grosvenor Square, April 10, 1770.

(126) Thomas George, third Baron Southwell (1721-1780), was created
Viscount Southwell in July, 1776.


(1775,) Nov. 16, Thursday night, the Committee Room of the House of
Commons.--I received last night, but late, your much wished-for and
expected letter concerning the Bedchamber;(127) which, containing
what it did, and the style of it being what it was, I carried this
morning to Lord G(ower), who seemed perfectly satisfied with the
option you had made, and the manner in which you expressed yourself
in relation to himself. Lord North dines with him on Saturday, when
he intends to expatiate more at large upon your views, and to urge
further your pretensions to some more advantageous situation.

I must say for the Bedchamber, you could not have a more honourable
post or at the same time a more insignificant one. I ventured to
tell Lord G. that I believe (sic), notwithstanding the demur you
made upon it, if it had been a point with him that you should have
accepted it--I did believe that you would. I thought that I ran no
risk in making on your behalf that compl(imen)t, as he seemed to be
so perfectly agreed with me that it was better not to accept it.

He entered with me on the last account from the Colonies, which is
undoubtedly much more favourable than was expected by friends, or
enemies; and it agreed so perfectly with the private letters which I
have seen, that I could not but credit it. It is my real belief that
the Opposition will be disappointed, and those who have joined them
upon speculation and resentment, not a little vexed at being duped.
It is impossible to answer for events, but these must be such as are
very little expected or probable, before there can be any breach in
the present Ministry, or the King obliged to make a change in it.

Burke's speech(128) to-day was three hours and twenty minutes. Lord
Ossory has hoisted his flag, and spoke. It is now about 9 o'clock;
it will be midnight in all probability before we rise, for none of
the leading persons in Administration has spoke, or the principal
squibs of opinion. Charles is down, but has not yet spoke. I am more
desirous myself of hearing Lord G. G(ermaine) than anybody. He looks
very confident, and I take for granted is prepared for all kind of
abuse.

Rigby came to me in the House last night to know if I had heard from
you, adding, "I hope to God that he will accept the Bedch(amber)." I
was not more desirous that you should, because that was his opinion.
I thought that Lord G(ower) had been talking to him, but he assured
me that he had not; so from what quarter his intelligence came I
know not. Lord G. thought that it was most probable from Lord North.
If you had made that your option, I should have proposed that you
should at the same time have been sworn into the Privy Council, as
an earnest that more was intended, and in a Line of Business, and I
think that they would not have objected to it.

Adam Hay, Lord March's Member for Peebles, died yesterday, I am
afraid to say suddenly, because it is a suspicious word, and will be
more so in his case, as I believe Fortune has not been favourable to
him. But I do not believe anything of that sort; his general state
of health has been bad for some time, and I was told that his last
and fatal attack was in his bowels. The two Lascells and (sic) dined
at his house not a week ago. Sir R. Keith comes in, in his room.
Lord N(orth) and Lord Suffolk recommend him. March has demurred upon
it, but seems not determined for particular reasons. I have been
employed about this, this whole day at Court, and then with Lord
North, and going backwards and forwards. March will not do what he
should, at the time it ought to be done, and then things are in
confusion, when they should be adjusted, and carried into execution.
It is to no purpose endeavouring to persuade him; if you tell him
what may happen, he silences you with some adage, or a qu'importe,
and so drives everything off till he does (not) know what party
(parti?) to fix upon.

(127) Lord Carlisle declined the offer of a Lordship of the
Bedchamber, see Trevelyan's "Early Life of Fox," chap. iv.

(128) On November 16th Burke moved for leave to bring in a Bill for
composing the present troubles and for quieting the minds of his
Majesty's subjects in America. The motion was negatived, after an
important debate, a little before five o'clock in the morning, by
210 to 105 votes.


(1775,) Dec. 9, Saturday m(orming), at home.--By accident you will
receive no letter from me to-morrow, but by no accident facheux. For
the future, however I conclude my day, I will begin it by writing to
you, when the day comes that I am to write.

Yesterday I dined at Lord Gower's; there were the B(isho)p of
Worcester, Lord Stanley and Lady Betty, Lord March, Storer, K.
Stewart, and la famille; en verite votre beau-pere est bien servi;
le diner fut superbe. I was obliged, without staying for my coffee,
to go to the House, where we were till about ten. I hope that it is
the last day of business before the Recess.

I sent your letter last night to Lady Carlisle, and wrote to her
myself. But I will defer no more writing to anybody till the
evening, excepting to Ald. Harris, who is at present very clamorous
for a letter, for he has not heard from me in God knows how long a
time, and at this minute I have mislaid his last letters.

I have contrived to wrench out of Charles's black hands 50 pounds
for Spencer, by watching the opportunity of his play, and should
have got from anybody but himself one thousand of the 1,500, for he
had won that, and more, the other night, and it was to have been
paid to him the next morning. I sent immediately to Gregg, and it
was my design to have carried your bond to Brooks, who should have
intercepted the 1,000 for his own use, and then I should have
applied the same sum afterwards to the tradesmen; but he was too
quick for me, and set (sat) up and lost it and more to Lord
Stavordale. I know that he could have pleaded his debt to Lord
Cholmondly, and to Brooks himself, &c., neither of whom probably
would have received a groat; but that matter is over for the
present. However, Brooks has promised me that (sic), if any event of
this kind happens again, to avail himself of it, for your
convenience.

I have taken the liberty to talk a good deal to Lord Stavordale,
partly for his own sake and partly for yours, and pressed him much
to get out of town as soon as possible, and not quit Lord Ilchester
any more. His attention there cannot be of long duration, and his
absence may be fatal to us all. I painted it in very strong colours,
and he has promised me to go, as soon as this Sedgmoor Bill is
reported. I moved to have Tuesday fixed for it. We had a debate and
division upon my motion, and this Bill will at last not go down so
glibly as Bully hoped that it would. It will meet with more
opposition in the H(ouse) of Lords, and Lord North being adverse to
it, does us no good. Lord Ilchester gets, it is said, 5,000 pounds a
year by it, and amongst others Sir C. Tynte something, who, for what
reason I cannot yet comprehend, opposes it.

The comparison of me to Arlequin, I allow to be in a great measure
just. The events have frequently called his (sic) to my mind. But I
beseech you do not say that you do not desire to hinder me from a
favourite amusement. If it was an innocent one also, passe; but it
is not only dangerous, but in its consequences criminal, and there
is no dependence upon any one man breathing, who pursues it with the
chaleur which I have done. How can I expect another man to trust me,
if I cannot trust myself?

Therefore, although March has dissolved the tie,(129) I beg that you
will lay me under some sort of restriction about it. I do not speak
this from having now suffered, for I have not, as I told you before,
since March last; that is, by the event. But I have been susceptible
(since?) then more than once, and it has been my good fortune and
not my prudence which has kept me above water.

What I propose is, to receive a guinea, or two guineas, and to pay
twenty, for every ten which I shall lose in the same day, above 50,
at any game of chance. I reserve the 50 for an unexpected necessity
of playing in the country, or elsewhere, with women. All things
considered, it is the best tie, and the tax the easiest paid, and
restrictive enough, and twenty guineas you will take; and if you tie
me up, I beg my forfeitures may go to the children, and then perhaps
I may forfeit for their sake, you'll say. I really think it will be
a wise measure for me, and a safe one; and let this tie be for this
year only, and then, if it is demonstrable that my fortune is
impaired by not playing, the tie will be over, and not renewed the
next. In the mean time, and till I shall hear your sentiments upon
this, I must avoid going to Almack's, and so I will. . . .

I dine to-day at Harry St. John's, and to-morrow at Eden's(130); and
on Monday all the St. Johns in the world, old and young, dine here.

Lord Northington(131) brought me home two nights in his coach, and
in one of them the conversation turned upon you. He said there was
nobody had a better idea of what a gentleman should be than
Carlisle; that you was so throughout. There is a singularity and
frankness in some people's manner of delivering their sentiments, by
which they receive great advantage. You remember Sir R. Payne's way
of describing you, which was still more odd; he said if anybody
looked through the keyhole at any time to see how you behaved when
you was alone, that he was sure there would be no more impropriety
in it than if you had a hundred eyes upon you. I don't like
commending you myself, but I like to hear others do so, and
especially when they speak about what they think, and when what they
think has the air of verite in it.

I hope you make my compliments to Ekins, and that he has by this
time read Atterbury quite through. I do not propose the Bishop as a
pattern for anything but for eloquence; and for argument, on n'en
trouve pas, chez lui.

I think that Storer, John St. John,(132) and I, shall set out in
about ten days. My coach, cloak, and muff are ready. Adieu most
affectionately. My respects to Lady C(arlisle) and my love to the
children, and last of all do not despair of me about Hazard, for it
being what I love so much, is precisely the reason why I shall be
more upon guard in respect to it. I do not mean by this to limit,
but the ense recidendum; every other parti is delusive and childish.


(129) See ante, note 105.

(130) William Eden, Lord Auckland (1744-1814). He was educated at
Eton and Oxford; called to the Bar in 1769. In 1778 was one of the
peace commissioners to America with Lord Carlisle, accompanying him
later to Ireland as secretary. Between 1785 and 1789 he filled
appointments as ambassador successively to France, Spain, and the
United Provinces. In 1789 he was created Baron Auckland in Ireland,
and in 1793 raised to the English peerage. He married Eleanor,
daughter of Sir Gilbert Elliot and sister of the first Earl of
Minto.

(131) Robert Henley, second Earl of Northington (1747-1782), a
friend of Charles Fox. The main event of his political life was his
tenure of the office of Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in the Coalition
Ministry in 1783.

(132) John St. John (1746-1793), third son of John, second Viscount
St. John, a typical specimen of the macaroni. He was an M.P. from
1773 to 1784, held a sinecure post as Surveyor-General of Land
Revenues. He wrote some political pamphlets, a play, and an opera.
The play was a tragedy--"Mary Queen of Scots"; it was acted at Drury
Lane with some success in 1789, Kemble and Mrs. Siddons taking the
leading parts.


(1775,) December 12, Tuesday night.--General Scott is dead; sic
Diis placuit. Bully(133) has lost his Bill. I reported it to-day,
and the Question was to withdraw it. There were 59 against us, and
we were 35. It was worse managed by the agents, supposing no
treachery, than ever business was. Lord North, Robinson, and Keene
divided against. Charles said all that could be said on our side.
But as the business was managed, it was the worst Question that I
ever voted for. We were a Committee absolutely of Almack's; so if
the Bill is not resumed, and better conducted and supported, this
phantom of 30,000 pounds clear in Bully's pocket to pay off his
annuities vanishes. It is surprising what a fatality attends some
people's proceedings. I begged last night as for alms, that they
would meet me to settle the Votes. I have, since I have been in
Parliament, been of twenty at least of these meetings, and always
brought numbers down by those means. But my advice was slighted, and
twenty people were walking about the streets who could have carried
this point.


December 14, 1775.(134)--I was much disappointed yesterday in not
receiving a letter from you. I dined here and alone and was in hopes
that a letter from you would have come or I should have dined out
for my spirits at present are not good, nor can I contrive that they
should be better, and yet je ne donnerai pas la mort though nothing
in the world has happened, but j'ai les dragons noirs et fort noirs;
l'avenir me donne des horreurs, but brisons la pour la present: I
have bought to-day at Lord Holland's sale of books, "Dart's
Antiquities of Westminster Abbey," a very complete copy on large
paper. But I paid 6 pounds for it, which is 2 pounds more than it
has been usually estimated at. Dr. Baker has promised to propose me
for the Royal Society, and I will be of as many societies as I can
which may serve for dissipation and to avoid what I have more reason
to dread than anything in the world. I am sure a grand coup de
malheur at play would oppress me beyond anything.

I hope that apprehension will keep me from it, and you must assist
me. Don't say, he knows it, it is to no purpose--speaking to
anybody. . . . Speaking does operate if you esteem the person who
speaks, and those who are silent have an indifference about what
happens to their friends which I know you have not. There is an old
translation of Plutarch two hundred years old by Amyot, in twelve or
fourteen volumes 12mo. bound in blue maroc. Gibbon tells me that it
is a very rare and valuable book, one of the first translations
which was in that language, and has infinite merit. The print is not
good enough for me, it will come high and I seldom read. I must buy
quartos now, large letter, and books of another kind which amuse me
more. Lady Holland has got well again. Scott has left 200,000 pounds
and two daughters who divide it. ... I hear some good news is come
to-day from America. I shall know more of it from this dinner I am
going to. I have no mind to go, but cannot recede. I hope that my
spirits will be the better for it, but it is the gloomiest day I
ever knew. The Duchess of Kingston is in a great fright for the
consequences of her trial. Where she is to be tried is not yet
decided. Most people I take it for granted wish it may be in
Westminster Hall. Lord Mansfield opposes it. It is near five so I
shall take my leave. I wrote this for fear this dinner and a nap,
etc., might prevent my writing. My respects to Lady C. and the dear
children.

(133) Lord Bolingbroke.

(134) This letter was not included in those printed by the
Historical MSS. Commission.


In this last letter Selwyn notes the arrival of news from America.
But he preferred to let his friend Storer forward the political
information of the moment to Carlisle, so that a letter of Storer is
sometimes supplementary to one of Selwyn. The following is a
continuation, so to say, of that which Selwyn wrote on the same
date.


Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle.

1775, December 14, Portugal Street.--I did not give Selwyn my
promise concerning our expedition to Castle Howard, and therefore
should not have mentioned it to you; but if I am not able to come,
it will be some comfort to me to know that you will have him and St.
John; so that if you fail of getting any politics out of George, I
think you must be very unlucky if you have not, what you wish, a
boar (sic) of politics from the other.

I assure you, at least so it appears to me, that American politics
are very much altered. Taxation and the exercise of it are totally
renounced. You never hear the right mentioned, but in order to give
it up. The rigid politician of last year, such a man for instance as
Wellbore Ellis, stands now almost single in the House of Commons.

You ask me if the Intercourse Bill,(135) as it is called, cuts off
all commerce and communication with the Islands. You may guess why
it is called the Intercourse Bill; it is lucus a non lucendo. The
Americans are neither to trade with the West Indies or Great
Britain; they are not interdicted any commerce with us, but they are
to be treated, both themselves and their vessels, as enemies in open
time of war, and the captures are to become the property of the
commanders and the sailors.

This is the winding up of our catastrophe. If it lasts more than one
year, it seems even to moderate West Indians to be totally ruinous
to them. What seems to affect them most by the passing of this Bill
is not the fear of starving, which they have their apprehensions of,
but the danger there is of their being taken on false pretences by
the men of war that are to protect them, or by the Americans, on
whose coast they are always obliged to pass very near. In short,
every West Indian, except Jack Douglas, is in the utmost
consternation.

Parliament, that is, the House of Commons, have done their business;
we are now waiting for this Bill to pass the Lords, and then we
adjourn for the holidays. The day before yesterday, the Sedgmoor
Inclosure Bill, in which Lord Bolingbroke was very much interested
(G. Selwyn was Chairman for and in the Committee) was thrown out,
owing to some irregularities--some differences in the Assent Bill
and the House Bill. As you have had something to do with enclosures,
you understand those two words, so I need not explain them.

It is true I have spoke, and as you say, and as I meant, not
brilliantly. Le mieux est l'ennemi du bien, is a very favourite
maxim of mine. Perhaps, as this is one of my great undertakings, it
is more owing to you, than to any other motive. I know you will
laugh at me, for saying so, but I really believe it. I said a few
words, too, upon your Morpeth business, which encouraged me perhaps
to do afterwards, what I did with respect to Mr. Oliver's motion.

Lord G. Germaine's coming into office seems to have been a greater
acquisition on the side of Government, than on his. Office adds
dignity and respect to some men; others, who derive no dignity from
it, generally lose by it. This I think Lord G.'s case. He seemed to
speak with much more weight, before he was in office. The Ghost of
Mindon is for ever brought in neck and shoulders to frighten him
with. Willes (Wilkes) and Sawbridge have attacked him more than once
with the British Cavalry; and thus, he must either turn absolute
knight errant, or else put up quietly with constant affronts.

The news-papers must have given you the general features of this
year's politics. The complexion of them, I own, is somewhat altered;
and so much, that I dare say you will hardly know 'em again. You
will soon grow used to them, however, and upon very little
acquaintance, will be as intimate with them as ever. So much for the
affairs of the Nation. You, who hear no politics, will be astonished
at this boar (sic), but must excuse it from me, who hear nothing
else.

Indeed, there is another operation which breaks in upon this
subject, i e., the game of Commerce. Lady Betty has taken to this
game, and she makes all the world, bon gre, malgre, play at it till
five o'clock in the morning. I live there almost; what with Balls,
Bt (?), Tessier, Commerce, Supper, and Quinze, I am never out of the
house. They have invited me to go to the Oaks, this Christmas, but
if Castle Howard is too far, the Oaks, I assure you, will be much
farther. I rather think I shall go for a fortnight to Bath. You have
heard of Gen. Scott's death. George's motto for his achievement is
--sic Dice placuit; and for his sarcophagus--Dice Manibus, &c. . . .

(135) The American Prohibitory Bill, to prevent trade and
intercourse between the American Colonies and Great Britain and the
West Indies.



(1775?) Dec. 19, Tuesday.--I write to you before dinner, and before
I have all the opportunities which I might have before night of
sending you news, for fear that it should happen as it did last
Saturday, that I fall asleep, and so let pass the hour of the post.
The cold drives me to the fire, and the fire into a profound nap, in
which every earthly thing is forgot; but it shall happen no more,
that a post goes without something to indicate my existence.

Last night and the night before I supped at Lady Betty Stanley's.
Their suppers are magnificent, but their hours are abominably late;
however, they do not discourage my Lord of Worcester from staying
them out. We are very merry, all of us, and I think Mrs. North the
merriest of us all. At 2 this morning, the Bishop and I were almost
left alone; the rest of the company were in their domino's, and
going to the Masquerade. I have seen nobody to-day to tell me what
passed there.

I have been with Mie Mie at Gainsborough's,(136) to finish her
picture. I thank you for inquiring after her; it has been one of my
comforts that she has escaped any of these colds. She seems to grow
very strong; so far, so good.

Sir G(eorge) M'Cartney and Lady Holl(an)d dined here yesterday, and
we had the contrivance to keep our party a secret from Craufurd,
for, although he was engaged to two other places, he told March that
he should have been glad to have come, and certainly would, if he
had known it. I think verily he grows more tiresome every day, and
everybody's patience is a bout, except Smith's and Sir George's.

Sir G(eorge) has been telling me to-day, that Lord Stormont is
coming from France, and is to have Lord Marchmont's place, who is
satisfied by the peerage of his son, and that Lord Harcourt will
stay but a very little while longer in Ireland. This must produce in
all probability other removes.

I dine to-morrow with Lord Gower, Lady G(ower), Lord and Lady
Waldegrave, l'Ambassadeur, and Monsr. Tessier, at Bedford House. I
shall know, perhaps, something more of this then. Her Grace has
suppers for the class I dine with to-day, but I am not of them.
Monsieur Tessier is to read to the Queen, and till then, will read
no more; he goes down to pass his Xmas at Wilton. I wish, for Lady
Carlisle's entertainment, that you had him for two or three days, at
Castle H.

I should, with your approbation, have been glad to have carried him
with me. I shall be glad to bring anybody, but I have no prospect,
but of John St. John. Storer tells me that he goes to the Bath. Eden
would be excessively happy to go, if it was for a few days only, but
his attendance at this time seems scarcely to be dispensed with. Our
last news from America are certainly not good, but it does not alter
my expectations of what will be the issue of the next campaign. It
is a great cause of amusement to Charles, but I see no good to him
likely to come from it in the end.

I wish to know, if I could, precisely your time of leaving Castle
H(oward). I should be glad to contrive it, so as to return with you.
You will be here for the Trial,(137) I take for granted. It will be
altogether the most extraordinary one that ever happened in this or
I believe any other country. It is a cursed, foul pool, which they
are going to stir up, and-how many rats, cats, and dogs, with other
nuisances, will be seen floating at the top, nobody can tell. It
will be as much a trial of the E(arl) of B(ristol) as of her, and in
point of infamy, the issue of it will be the same, and the poor
defunct Duke stand upon record as the completest Coglione of his
time. The Attorney and Solicitor General have appointed Friday, as I
hear, for a hearing of what her Bar can say in favour of a Noli
prosequi, which is surely nothing.

(136) Gainsborough was at this time living at Schomberg House, Pall
Mall, and therefore was a near neighbour of Selwyn. This portrait is
not to be found among Gainsborough's existing works.

(137) See note (109)


Selwyn, as we see by the preceding letter, represented the
optimistic spirit of the English people in regard to the American
War. His friend Storer, though one of the Court party and a place
seeker, shows a much truer appreciation of the actual condition of
affairs. With a keener interest than Selwyn in political matters he
sometimes, as already mentioned, took his friend's place as Lord
Carlisle's correspondent when political interest was aroused. In the
letter which follows he perceives clearly the future course of the
struggle.


Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle.

(1775,) Dec. 29, Bath.--I broke off very abruptly in my last, telling
you that Oliver's Motion came into Parliament in so strange a form,
that it met with very little encouragement; Wilkes counted twelve
who divided with him on the main Question, and he dignified them by
calling them his twelve Apostles.

Sawbridge had attacked the present Administration for their intended
folly of taking up four other persons besides Mr. Eyre upon
the news of that plot, that made so much noise for a day or
two at the opening of Parliament; and said that some person in
Administration had very wisely objected to it, because instead
of having the Wilkes, there would immediately be five.

To which Lord North answered by saying, though he might believe a
Buckingham House Junto might do a great deal, yet he had so much
respect for Mr. Wilkes, as not to imagine that they could easily
make another person at (all?) similar to him; that he had seen the
difficulty of such an undertaking by observing, that gentlemen who
made it the whole object and study of their lives to resemble him,
had failed in the attempt. He ended by quoting--Non cuivis homini
contingit, etc.; some of the Treasury prompted him--Ex quovis ligno
non fit Mercurius.

We divided twice that day, besides having a third Question. The
order of the day was first put, then the previous Question, and the
main one. So that Wilkes and his party divided with us upon the
previous Question. Lord North upon this desired, while the minority
was in the Lobby, that gentlemen would stay for the main Question,
as we should not have some of the present majority with us. Upon the
whole, I never saw a Question in Parliament treated with so little
respect.

Now I ought, according to the course of proceedings, give you some
account of Hartley's; but as he has printed his speech, I will not
take that out of his hands, which he has so much more right to. He
spoke for above two hours. Good God! I shudder even now at the
thoughts of it. No one can have a complete idea of a boar (sic) who
has not been in Parliament.

Thus you have seen an epitome of what we have been about; what we
are to do, you are more likely to know than I, having a direct
avenue to the Cabinet; but I believe it is scarcely in their power
to say what we are to do. Whether we are to send Russians, or
French, or what nation the troops are to be of, I cannot guess. They
say Russians cannot go on account of the ice in the Baltic; and then
if they could, they say the French and Spaniards would not let them.
We are playing tres gros jeu, and in every way a losing game.

As for conquering America, without foreign troops, it is entirely
impossible; and I think it pretty near a certainty that the Rebels
will be in possession of all America by the spring. By the news of
Fort St. John's and Chambley, and the investiture of Quebec, their
diligence and activity is wonderful, and it must end in the
possession of all N(orth) Am(erica). They have taken a store-ship,
and have several ships at sea. De peu a peu nous arrivons; if they
go on so another year--fuit Ilium et ingens gloria--we shall make
but a paltry figure in the eye of Europe. Come to town, and be
witness to the fall, or the re-establishment, of our puissant
Empire. . . .


Little of Selwyn's correspondence in 1776 and 1777 has been
preserved. Possibly he wrote less, and made a long stay at Castle
Howard. "I have more bon jours and bon soirs for her en poche,"
referring to his little child-friend, Caroline Howard, "than I shall
be able to give her during the whole time I shall stay at Castle H."
For the despatch of political news he trusted, as he often did, to
Storer. "I hope that Storer gives you a more particular account of
what is said in the House than I can do. What is he employing
himself about? Why won't he attempt to say something? What
signifies, knowing what Cicero said and how he said it, if a man
cannot open his mouth to deliver one sentence of his own?" But
Storer, like many able and cultivated men, was more critical of his
own powers than those who want both talent and knowledge. He was
not, however, altogether neglectful of Selwyn's wishes, and he
presently sent Carlisle some political news, but of no great
interest.

Selwyn himself was in somewhat low spirits, he was as we know
troubled by Mie Mie's parents, and he longed for the society of
Carlisle and his family.


(1777, Feb.) Tuesday night.--. . . As to my own situation I cannot
say it is a happy (one), although I have so much more than I could
have expected. I have, indeed, for the present all I ever wished,
but I have also the strongest assurances given me that at all events
things shall continue for some time in the state in which they now
are. But whoever upon that concludes that I must be easy is either
ignorant or indifferent to the feelings of mankind. The bare
possibility of be[ing] rendered so unhappy as I should be made upon
a change of their resolution, or from the operations of caprice and
travers, I say the mere apprehensions of that, even slightly
founded, prevent my mind from being in that equilibre which is
absolutely necessary to my tranquillity. We are, I say, at present
going on very well, in as good and regular a progress of education
as it is possible; both Mie Mie and I as tractable as it is
possible; et troubler ce menage seroit une cruaute sans example.

I have also to grieve at other times for a great deprivation of part
of my happiness; that, I mean, to which you contributed, Lady
C(arlisle) and your children. There is a hiatus valde deflendus;
indeed, a lacune which I do not know how to fill up, and I sigh over
the prospect of it perpetually, and without seeing my way out of it.

I have, at another part of my day, a scene, which time or use cannot
reconcile to me. I see my mother's strength grow less every day,
without any consolation, but that her mind does not decay with it.
In short, my dear Lord, as I have often told you, j'ai l'esprit et
le coeur trop fracasses for me to be happy at present, and all I can
say is that I might, by untoward accidents, be more miserable, and
these are removed from my view pour le moment; but I wait for a
period of time when I shall be relieved from uncertainty of what may
happen, and when I may live and breathe without restraint and
apprehension. That period will, as I imagine, arrive in about two
months, and till then les assurances les plus fortes sont trop
faibles pour mon repos.

It is some time since I have had a long letter from you. I hope to
have one of some sort or other to-morrow. I hope all goes quietly,
at least Gregg says that you write cheerfully. On s'accoutume a
tout, they say, but I know and feel very sensibly that there are
exceptions to that adage.

The author of a new Grub Street poem, I see, allows me a great share
of feeling, at the same time that he relates facts of me, which, if
they were true, would, besides making me ridiculous, call very much
into question what he asserts with any reasonable man. I do not know
if you have received this performance. If I thought you had not,
paltry as it is, I should send it to you. The work I mean is called
"The Diaboliad."(138) This hero is Lord Ernham. Lord Hertford and
Lord Beauchamp are the chief persons whom he loads with his
invectives. Lord Lyttleton (and) his cousin Mr. Ascough are also
treated with not much lenity; Lord Pembroke with great familiarity,
as well as C. Fox; and Fitzpatrick, although painted in colours bad
enough at present, is represented as one whom in time the
Devil will lose for his disciple. I am only attacked upon that trite
and very foolish opinion concerning le pene e le Delitte (ed i
delitted), acknowledging (it) to proceed from an odd and insatiable
curiosity, and not from a mauvais coeur. In some places I think
there is versification, and a few good lines, and the piece seems to
be wrote by one not void of parts, but who, with attention, might
write much better.(139)

I forgive him his mention of me, because I believe that he does it
without malice, but, if I had leisure to think of such things, I
must own the frequent repetition of the foolish stories would make
me peevish. Alas! I have no time to be peevish. Quand on a le coeur
gros, et serre, comme je l'ai souvent a cette heure, il est rare que
l'on a de l'humeur; l'ame est trop serieusement attaquee et touchee
pour preter attention a de petites choses; chez moi, je suis triste,
je soupire, mais je ne gronde plus, je ne m'emporte pas.

Richard, I hear, goes in about a fortnight. Fish Craufurd thinks, as
I am told, that Lord O(ssory?) should pay his debts; that is, give
him 40,000 pounds from his own children, pour le delivrer des Juifs.
He pays already to one of them out of his 300 pounds a year, which
he meant to have paid to his brother for a more comfortable
maintenance.

I dined on Sunday at the French Ambassador's; a splendid and
wretched dinner, but good wine; a quantity of dishes which differed
from one another only in appearance; they had all the same taste, or
equally wanted it. The middle piece, the demeurant, as it is called,
a fine Oriental arcade, which reached from one end of the table to
the other, fell in like a tremblement de terre. The wax, which
cemented the composing parts, melted like Icarus's wings, and down
it fell. Seventy bougies occasioned this, with the number of persons
all adding to the heat of the room. I had a more private and much
better dinner yesterday at Devonshire House.

(138) "The Diaboliad, a poem dedicated to the Worst Man in His
Majesty's Dominion," London, G. Kearsley, 1777.

(139) "The Diaboliad" was a social satire: in it the devil was
supposed to have grown old, and being anxious to find a successor
for his throne visits London. He appears to a gambling party:--

"With joy and wonder struck the parties rise!
 'Hell is worth trying for' . . . cries;
 Pigeons are left unpluck'd, the game unplay'd,

And F forgets the certain Bett he made;
 E'en S-l-n feels Ambition fire his breast
 And leaves half told, the fabricated Jest.
 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
 The murmurs hush'd--the Herald straight proclaim'd
 S-l-n the witty next in order nam'd,
 But he was gone to hear the dismal yells
 Of tortur'd Ghosts and suffering Criminals,
 Tho' summoned thrice, he chose not to return,
 Charmed to behold the crackling Culprits burn
 With George all know Ambition must give place
 When there's an Execution in the case." (pp. 3 and 17.)



(1777, Aug.) . . .. I am convinced that I shall be free some time
hence from that agitation of mind with which I am now so tormented,
and from those almost constant sinkings of my spirits; but, my dear
Lord, you may be quite assured that des plaies comme les miennes ne
se referment fas bientot, and when they do they have altered the
whole constitution of the mind to such a degree as never to let it
feel as it did before. But brisons la.

Mr. D'Oyley tells me that no important news is likely to come from
America before the 20th of this month. Lady Cornwallis told me
yesterday she expected some much sooner. Mr. D'Oyley's picture of
affairs was not a joyous one, but he gave an infinitely better
account of them to me than I have had from anybody else.

The Opposition affects great spirits, and to be sanguine about a
change of men and of measures. Je n'en crois rien. Charles said last
night if I would give him five guineas he would give me 100 if I
lost my place. He must get one himself to justify my accepting the
proposal. The match of tennis stark naked was not played, which I am
sorry for. Another red Ribbon vacant, Sir C. Montagu. Clinton
anticipated that which Lord Inchiquin had.

I saw Horry W(alpole) yesterday for a few minutes; his distresses
are, Lord O(rford's) lunacy, and the Duchess of Gloucester's
situation if his R(oyal) H(ighness) dies, who will probably come and
die in his own country. I wish these were mine, and I had no other,
but we cannot choose our own misfortunes; if we could, there is
nobody who would not prefer being concerned for a mad nephew whom
they did not care for, or a simple Princess whom they would laugh
at, si l'orgueil ne s'en meloit pas.

The great rendezvous of the White's people has been at my Lord
Cadogan's, as that of the Macaroni's at Lord Egremont's. Adieu pour
aujourd'hui; I need not conclude, as this letter does not go till
Tuesday.

Monday morning.--At Almack's last night:
Duke of Grafton, Lord Egremont, Jack Townsh(en)d, W. Hanger, Lord
March, Varcy, Barker, Hare, 2 Craufurds, Thompson, Lord
North[ingto]n, Foley, Sir W Draper, Sir C. Davers, Self, Boothby.

There was no news last night, and but little play. Boothby loses
regularly his 300, and, if he had a run in his favour [has] nobody
to furnish him with materials to profit by it. Lady Harriot came
again to fetch her husband in their vis a vis, and I crammed myself
in too. I left Draper and Sir C. Davers travelling through the worst
roads of Canada, Triconderaga (sic), and the Lord knows what
country. But it was so tiresome that I was glad to leave them in the
mud in[to] which their conversation had carried them.

Lord North (ingto) n is very sour about Lord Cov(entry)'s treatment
of his sister, and talks of going to Crome to expostulate with him
about it. I hope that he will not. It will do the cause no good in
any respect. I am for leaving everything for the present, bad as it
is, where the ill stars of them all have placed them. Cov (entry)'s
mind will take another turn, and [he will] do of his own accord
perhaps more than he ought.

Mademoiselle D'Eon goes to France in a few days; she is now in her
habit de femme, in black silk and diamonds, which she received from
the Empress of Russia, when she was in the army and at her Court as
minister, A German of her acquaintance has promised Lady Townshend
to contrive that she and I shall have a sight of her before she
goes. She met her grandson coming to town in a chaise and four,
ventre a terre, from Brighthelmstone; he dined with us. Storer's
attachment at present, as he says, is to Lady Payne. O'Brien gets
9,000 pounds a year, and the title, by Lord Inchiquin's death.

The absence of Lord Carlisle as a Commissioner to America caused a
break in the correspondence. Selwyn was much abroad during his
friend's absence, and the distance between England and America was
prohibitive of letters frequent. Two, however, from Paris in 1779
give an insight into Selwyn's life abroad. He resumed the
correspondence in 1780. He was not well; he was being pressed to go
to "that abominable town" of Gloucester. He hated electioneering,
but it is from Matson that the next letter, in the midst of the
General Election of 1780, is dated. He lost his seat--perhaps not
without regret--for he returned to the less irksome representation,
if such it could be called, of Ludgershall.


(1779,) April 18, Sunday, Paris.--. . . I have managed in regard to
my lodging as I once did in regard to poor Mr. Pottinger, whom I
wanted to avoid and so asked him in my confusion to dine with me,
which you cannot forget that he accepted. I wished above all things
to be lodged as far from a certain Lady(140) as I could, and I have
so contrived it, that for the present I am next door. I intend for
the future to describe her by that name, that is, La Dame, as Lord
Clarendon does the Duchess of Cleveland. I will for the rest of my
life mention her as little as possible; but when I am forced to
speak upon her subject I will take care not to call her by her name,
and I am the more authorised so to do, as she has called me by every
name but that by which I should be described, and that is your
friend.

The Barone servante is gone to England, as you perhaps know, and
perhaps she is now on his (sic) road back. However I shall be quit I
hope for a distant bow; for although honest Iago had taken as much
care as possible that he should cut my throat, a much better friend
took care that he should not; which is the Marechal B(iron).(141)

I went yesterday to the Marechal for the first time; he was in his
levee room; it was the day that the officers of the Gardes
francoises always dine with him. We dropt upon him once (again?) the
same day; but this was at noon, and he was giving audience. He took
me out immediately into another room, and after some civil
reproaches for not having been there before--for some English, who
dine with him on a Friday, had told him that I was come--he entered
into a very particular conversation upon that very disagreeable
subject, upon which he spoke with all the reason and good nature and
propriety imaginable.

I said for you everything which I could conceive it would be
agreeable to you that I should say. I found it very acceptable, and
his respect for you so great, and so much real kindness mixed with
it, that having in my coach a picture of Caroline, which I had
intended for the Duchesse de la Valiere, I desired him to accept of
it, and I think he received it as well as I could for her sake have
wished him to do. I believe he will think that Lady Dunmore's
daughters will not be the only beauties that we shall be able to
produce. He was delighted with it. I gave him also another of
Admiral Keppell,(142) which is an extraordinary good one. Caroline's
was not a good impression, which I am sorry for. I gave my other
where I dined, to Me de la Vaupaliere, to be a pendant to your own,
and you must send me one of Lady C(arlisle), ill as she is
represented, that the collection may be complete.

What he said besides was inevitable. I am unwilling to repeat it. I
wish that there was not so much truth in it. I wish that it could be
remedied, but that is impossible, for the only step towards it,
which is returning to her family, and to yours, she is determined
not to take; she will return no more to England I believe, if she
can help it, unless [to] be totally abandoned and plundered
everywhere else becomes a necessary inducement.

I am at Galan's, at the Hotel de Bourbon, next door to where we used
to lodge, what is now called l'Hotel de Danmark. But I must remove,
for one apartment will not do; we must have three; one for Monsieur
le Marquis, another for the child and her people, and one for
myself. So I think I must go for the present to the Pare Royal.
Every kind of house has been offered to me, to induce . . .

(140) The Countess Dowager of Carlisle, whose proposed marriage to a
foreign baron met with opposition from her family and friends.

(141) Armand Louis de Gontaut, Duc de Biron (1753-1794). Though he
joined the Revolutionists he perished on the scaffold,

(142) Admiral Lord Keppel (1725-1786), second son of second Earl of
Albemarle. He was a Whig in politics, and was First Lord of the
Admiralty under the Rockingham Administration in 1782, and was soon
after created a peer. "I ever looked on Lord Keppell," Burke said,
"as one of the greatest and best men of his age."


(1779,) Avril 18, Sunday night, Paris.(143)--I wrote to you this
morning, as I hope that you will know. This afternoon I find tous
mes projets pour le present sont suspendus. I am obliged to set out
to-morrow for Lyons. It is so unexpected, that it is by much the
greatest embarras I ever felt, and a monstrous exercise of expense
to me. But Mie Mie will be there to-morrow. Les parens ont change
d'avis, and I must go to Lyons to fetch (her). God knows how much
further I would go to conduct her safely, but I was made to believe
there was no occasion for it. I expected her here on Friday next, or
on this day sevennight. Combien de termps faut-il que je sois le
jouet des caprices des autres?

Mrs. Webb also is not in a good state of health for travelling so
far or so fast. I have had a letter from Warner; he has seen the
Baron, who was charged, I find, with a commission to you. . . .

I shall write to you from Lyons; but when I shall hear from you the
Lord knows, and I want to hear how the children do.

Ma patience et ma perseverance sont inepuisables sur ce qui regarde
Mie Mie. Je me croyois tranquillement etabli ici. J'aurai des
entretiens avec la mere, qui ne sont pas toujours composes avec du
miel. "Helas! Rende mi figlia mia." Voila ou j'en reviens. Adieu.
Ayez un peu de pitie de tous mes embarras, qui ne finissent pas.

(143) See Chapter 1: "In the spring it was arranged that the
Marchesa Fragniani should bring Mie Mie to Paris . . ."


(1780,) Sept. 11, Monday morning, 7 o'clock, Matson.--You will
receive a long letter from me to-day; and this will come to you on
Wednesday; so by these repeated courtesies you will see that I have
no repugnance to writing, although you have, and that I am very well
pleased to go on in my old way of scribbling, as long as I am
convinced that it is agreeable to you. But a line now and then is
comfortable, for, as Lady Macbeth says, "the feast grows cold that
is not often cheered," or something of that sort; so a
correspondence is awkwardly maintained, and is a contradiction in
terms when it is on one side only.

At present I am afraid that I shall be particularly tiresome,
because, much against my will, they have filled my head with
Election matters, and will not allow me a moment's time for anything
else. I have no comfort, but that it will be concluded on Thursday,
or Friday, but till then, what I shall suffer from folly and
impertinence, and from everything that is disagreeable, cannot be
described.

There is a party here called the True Blues, who lead Sir A. H. and
I (me) about, as if they had purchased us, to show in a fair. They
cost me, some years ago, twice two thousand pounds, by opposing me,
and now are doing all they can to make me pay four for befriending
me; and these people have given Administration such an idea of their
own omnipotence that I should have never been forgiven, if I had not
yielded to this importunity. I am assured that it will succeed, and
that both Sir A. and myself shall be returned, but my credulity does
not extend to that point. It is very probable, indeed, that by this
effort I may retain my own seat, which I did not care for, but to
attempt the other does as yet appear to me a great piece of
extravagance, considering the party which we have to contend with,
who have had their secrets well kept, and been very industrious for
two years in bringing about this opposition, whereas this scheme of
the Tories has not been taken up with any support, but a fortnight
ago.

My best and ablest friends here are dead; their survivors supine and
superannuated; their connections new Whigs and Reformers, and
Associators; myself grown quite indifferent upon the point; and the
principal Tories, such as the Duke of Beaufort, &c., and those who
would have been active, if they had been desired to be so half a
year ago, never spoke to. Mr. Robinson,(144) in his letters to me,
has always spoke in the plural number, our friend and I; so it is a
scheme adopted by both, I am to suppose, and a hazardous one it is.
But one Member they will have, I believe, and I wish they had fixed
upon any one but me to be their choice.

Sir Andr. goes upon the surest grounds, because I believe that he
will be franked to a certain point, and is sure of a seat in another
place, if not here. He is really a very agreeable man, and seems to
penetrate into the characters of the people he has seen very well.
He entertained me much yesterday with his account of my old friend
the Duke of Newcastle. He speaks of you in terms of the highest
esteem.

We stole away the day before yesterday from our keepers, to dine
here, which was a great relief, but we were jobed (sic) for it at
our return. I get here time enough to go to bed, that is about 11
o'clock, and I do not leave this place till about nine, that is till
Mie Mie and I have breakfasted together.

We have a committee sitting at what is called the New(?) Inn, which
has been built, and never repaired, three hundred years since; and
here this swarm of old Jacobites, with no attachment to Government,
assembles, and for half an hour you would be diverted with their
different sentiments and proposals. There is one who has a knack at
squibbs, as they call it, and he has a table and chair with a pen
and ink before him, to write scurrilous papers, and these are sent
directly to Mr. Raikes. I wish to God that it was all at an end.

What sin, to me unknown,
 Dipped me in this? My father's, or my own?

I am very glad that you have so quietly abandoned a contention for
Carlisle. When these things come to us without trouble it is very
well; but when they do not, I do not know one earthly thing that
makes us amends, and it is not once in a hundred times that you are
thanked for it. ...

I am old indeed, as the papers say, and if not trained up in
ministerial corruption, I am used to all other corruption whatever,
and of that of manners in particular; and the little attention that
is paid to what was in my earliest days called common honesty, is
now the most uncommon thing in the world. . . .

Let me have the pleasure of hearing that you are going on well in
Ireland,(145) for the loss of that I should have in being there with
you, which is impossible. Keep yourself, as you can very well do,
within your intrenchments, that no one may toss your hat over the
walls of the Castle. I dread to think what a wrongheaded people you
are to transact business with for the next three years of your life.
But I am less afraid of you from your character, than of another,
because I think that you will admit, at setting out, of no degree of
familiarity from those you are not well acquainted with. I hope that
Eden goes with you. I have a great opinion of his good sense and
scavoir faire.

(144) John Robinson (1727-1802), the son of an Appleby tradesman. He
grew wealthy by marriage and inheritance, and locally influential.
He became member for Westmoreland in 1764. In 1770 he was appointed
Secretary to the Treasury, which office he retained till Lord
North's fall in 1782. He was the business manager of the Ministry,
and had in his hands the distribution of the party funds and
patronage. He was an honest, able, and cool man of affairs, who
regarded politics wholly from a business point of view.

(145) Lord Carlisle had this year been appointed Lord-Lieutenant of
Ireland.






CHAPTER 4. 1781 THE DISASTERS IN AMERICA

A drum at Selwyn's--George, Lord Morpeth--Dr. Warner--Sale of the
Houghton pictures--The House of Commons--Pitt's first speech--Selwyn
unwell--Play at Brooks's--London gaieties--Fox and his new clothes
--Gambling--The bailiffs in Fox's house--"Fish" Crawford--Montem at
Eton--Mie Mie's education--Second speech of Pitt--Lord North--A
Court Ball--Society and politics--The Emperor of Austria
--Conversation with Fox--Personal feelings--American affairs--Lord
North and Mr. Robinson--State of politics--London Society.

The year 1781 will remain memorable as that in which the connection of
England with her American Colonies was finally broken. The surrender of
Cornwallis at Yorktown on October 19th impressed the Government with
the futility of a contest which the country had already realised, and
which would have at once caused a change of administration if the House
of Commons had been truly representative of the opinion of the country;
"a sense of past error," wrote the Duke of Grafton in his
autobiography, "and a conviction that the American war might terminate
in further destruction to our armies, began from this time rapidly to
insinuate itself into the minds of men. Their discourse was quite
changed, though the majorities in Parliament were still ready to
support the American war, while all the world was representing it to be
the height of madness and folly."(146) But though the country was
oppressed by taxation, and disgusted at the want of success of its
armies, society in St. James's Street took the national disasters with
perfect composure. It troubled itself more about the nightly losses of
money at the card-tables of Brooks's than of soldiers on the Delaware.
It lived in the same kind of fatalism as the House of Commons and the
King, who, with characteristic obstinacy, refused to bow to the force
of events, and kept in office, but not in power, a minister who did not
believe in the policy which he was compelled to support in Parliament.
From contemporaries the cardinal events of history are obscured by the
course of their ordinary social or political life. To us, who can see
them so large and momentous, it appears strange that they do not fill a
greater place in the public mind of the period. Selwyn constantly
hearing of the course of the vital conflict between England and her
Colonies, fills his correspondence with details of the day, mingling
remarks on facts which have become historical with the latest story of
the clubs.


1781, Feb. 1, Thursday morning, Cleveland Court.--. . . I saw Lord
Gower yesterday morning; he is grown very corpulent, and his face
fuller of humour than I ever saw it. While this humour keeps out he
will be well, but when it returns I am afraid the consequences will
be fatal to him. . . .

We dined at March's yesterday. Boothby, James, Williams, Offley, Lord
W. Gordon, Dr. Warner,(147) and myself. The place of rendezvous for the
morning is I believe, the Park, and it is a reconnoitring party too.
Where the Prince sups, and lies, and with whom, are the chief objects
of the politics of a certain class of people. All agree that at present
the agreement between him and the King is perfect. The speculation is
only how long it is likely to last. His Royal Highness stoops as yet to
very low game. In some respects it may be better. You will have heard
of Captain Waldgrave's success with the two Dutch ships, and the French
merchantman, if I am right.

To-day is to be one of violent attack upon Lord Sandwich and Palliser.
Charles makes the motion. We shall have a great deal of abuse, and
reply and declamation from Bourk(148) (Burke), and vociferation from
Lord Mahon, and perhaps a long day; and I must go down early, because I
was yesterday when the House was called a defaulter; so I shall dine
there, and after dinner I will collect upon paper what I hear of the
transactions of the day.

I read yesterday in the P(ublic) Advertiser an account of your box at
the play. I am not knowing enough in what is called humour, to be sure,
if that was such, and pure invention, or not. I hear that you did not
produce yourself enough, but retired too much within the box, which did
not please the Irish, who do not so well comprehend what it is to be
out of countenance. I wish to know if Lady C(arlisle) will find for
Caroline masters to her satisfaction, and a country house. I have not
seen as yet Lord Fitzwilliam, or had any answer about the pictures.
Eden they tell me calls too soon for coffee. But upon the whole, the
reports concerning you, and your Court, and your ministers, &c. is
[are] good. I do not expect this business in which you are engaged to
be quite couleur de rose. I hope you will preserve your health, and the
peace of your mind, your temper, and your fortune. I am in no pain
about anything else.

Lord W(---) had yesterday an air more egare than usual; he is enlaidi,
et mal vetu, et enfin il avait plus l'air de pendard que son frere.
Vous pouvez bien vous imaginer que nous n'avons pas parle de corde, pas
meme celle du mariage. The Marechal de Rich(e)lieu was told that the
mob intended to have hung me, but que je m'en suis tire comme un loial
chevalier. This was their notion in Paris of the mob which insulted me
at Gloucester.

(146) Page 314.

(147) Dr. John Warner (1736-1800) was the son of a clergyman and
educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. He took orders, but had a
literary and social, rather than theological, bent. He was a
confidential friend of Selwyn's, and after his death wrote a defence of
him in regard to witnessing executions.

(148) Edmund Burke (1729-1797). The only political office that the
great publicist ever held was that of Paymaster of the Forces for a few
months under Lord Rockingham and the Coalition Government.


(1781,) Feb. 11, Sunday morning, Cleveland Court.--I received your
letter of the 5th, yesterday, in the afternoon, and another of the same
date from Dr. Ekins, at the same time the day before: why they did not
come together, I know not. But so it has happened, I believe more than
once before, since my connections with Ireland, which I wish to God
were at an end. There is one indeed which will plague me, while I live,
and that is an annuity upon Mr. Gore's estate, which I must sue for as
regularly as it becomes due.

I was prevented from writing to you yesterday by I do not know how much
disagreeable occupation. I had a Drum, and that began early; I was to
prepare for it, I was to be served in ambigu, and it was to be the
easiest, most agreeable, best understood thing in the world. It was to
my apprehension the very antipode of this. I do not know how my company
felt, but I was not at my ease a moment. I had a Commerce table, and
one of Whist. My company were Middletons,(149) Bostons,(150)
Townshends, and Selwyns.

March came to the door at eleven, but hearing that supper was served,
and almost over, and perhaps hearing of the company too, he went away;
they were all good kind of people, and who I dare say had conversation
enough in their own families, but although we were all related, we had
not one word to say to one another. There was Mr. Methuen, Lady
Boston's father, who seems to be a shrewd entertaining man, if he was
where he found himself at home. The cook, the housekeeper, and Maitre
Jacques all exerted themselves, and did their parts tolerably well, but
rien n'a pu me mettre a mon aise, and the more I tried to be at home,
the more I was desoriente; so I believe I shall try some other kind of
party for the future; otherwise I may say que le jeu ne vaut pas la
chandelle. But now for your letter.

George's subject is not the first in course, but it has taken the first
place in my thoughts. I do assure you that I am not his puff. What I
tell you of his reading is literally true; but it is not reading that
expresses it, for I could have said as much if he had read nothing but
the History of Cinder Breech and that kind of biography. He read with
me English History, and stopped for information, and showed an uncommon
thirst for it. He asked me as many questions in the History of George
1st concerning the South Sea Scheme, the prosecution of Lord
Macclesfield, and the Barrier Treaty, as another boy would have asked
me about Robinson Crusoe. He likes other books too, and it is agreeable
to hear him talk of them. For which reason I should be glad, if you
approved of it, that he had a choice of books, to a certain amount
--a little library--as many as would fill a small bookcase. Mr. Raikes
tells me that he is remarkably careful of his books, and therefore
was not displeased that those which you gave him I had well bound,
and that it was a fair edition. An early love of books will produce
a desire to read, which amusements may suppress for a time, but is a
constant resource against ennui. I have been years without looking
in a book, and God knows in my long life how few I have read; but
when it has happened that I could, par force, do nothing else, I
have collected together a number, began a piece of history, and have
thought at last the day too short, because I wanted to read more;
and this I attribute to having once read, although it was but a
very little. Rollin was the first author I read by choice. . . .

I am in hopes that your kindness to Storer will take place; il en est
digne, soyez en assure, sur ma parole. I never doubted, I was quite
persuaded indeed, that you would do what you have done, and properly
too. I have been told that he is to have this place, but I have not
seen him much lately. I hope that he will dine here to-morrow, or on
Tuesday, when all the Gregg family comes, and it may be, Dr. Warner.
Your letter to Hare was sent to him by the post of the day that I
received it, and you will have had information of it, I doubt not, by
this time. He was not that day in town. You desired it to be sent,
without loss of time. I therefore lost none. But unluckily he was on
the road, although nobody knew it; he must have received it a few days
after, so I suppose by this time he has acknowledged to you the receipt
of it. I shall send your letter to Dr. Warner to-day, and invite him to
meet Mr. Gregg's family at dinner here on Tuesday. . . .I believe him
to be a perfectly honest man; he is uncommonly humane and friendly, and
most actively so. But he has such a flow of spirits, and so much the
ton de ce monde qu'il a frequente, that, had I been to have chose a
profession for him, it should not have been that of the Church. There
is more buckram in that, professionally, than he can digest, or submit
to. The Archbishop, who has been applied to in his favour, by the late
Mr. Townshend, said he was too lively, but it was the worst he could
say of him. Lord Besborough served him once essentially, and esteems
him. The family of Mr. Hoare, the banker, has assisted him, and so he
has been able to support his mother and his nearest relations, whom his
father, with a great deal of literary merit, had left beggars. I have
given you this succinct history of my doctor, whom you have enlisted
into your corps. I was once before obliged to write his character for
Lord Ossory, when he settled himself in Bedfordshire, and Lord Ossory
has found it true in all particulars.

The K(ing) has told my friend M. that Lord Cadogan(151) wants to sell
his house at Caversham, for why, I know not. Lord Walpole's eldest son
is to marry Lady Cadogan's sister. Churchill, du cote du falbala, ne
reussit pas mal; his sons, I am afraid, one of them at least, has
(have) not managed so well. But I would myself sooner have been married
to (a) Buckhorse, than to that (A)Esop Lord C. The Zarina repents of
her bargain, and, it is said, will give no more than 20,000 for the
pictures.(152) If that is not accepted, Lord Orford make (may) take
them back. He gets an estate of near 10,000 pounds a year by his
mother's death. Her will is all wrote in her own hand, and not one
word, even her own name, rightly spelt.

(149) George, fourth Viscount Middleton (1754-1836); son of George,
third viscount, and Albinia, daughter of the Hon. Thomas Townshend. He
married first, in 1778, Lady Frances Pelham, daughter of Thomas, first
Earl of Chichester, who died in 1783.

(150) Frederick, second Baron Boston (1749-1825), son of Sir William,
first Baron Boston and Albinia, daughter of Henry Selwyn. He
married, in 1775, Christiana, only daughter of'Paul Methuen.

(151) Charles Sloane, third Baron and first Earl Cadogan (1728-1807).
The house at Caversham Park was destroyed by fire in 1850 and re-built.

(152) The gallery of pictures at Houghton, collected by Sir Robert
Walpole, was, with some reservations, sold by the third Lord Orford, to
the Empress Catharine of Russia in 1779. "Private news we have none,
but what I have long been bidden to expect the completion of the sale
of the pictures at Houghton to the Czarina" (Letters of Walpole, vol.
vii. p. 234.) The date of the sale and of Selwyn's gossiping allusion
are not reconcilable.


Few events in the annals of the House of Commons are more remarkable
than the sudden rise of Pitt. His maiden speech--in support of
Burke's Bill for economical reform--placed him at once in the first
rank of parliamentary orators. "I was able to execute in some
measure what I intended," was Pitt's own modest account of this
speech in a letter to his mother. The opinion of the House of
Commons and the town was wholly different: his speech was regarded
as masterly--astonishing in one so young and new to Parliament.
Selwyn had not heard it, but in the following letter he tells
Carlisle of the general impression it had made; and on June 13th he
gives his own critical opinion of Pitt's third speech. The detailed
description by Storer, who supplemented Selwyn's letters of the
debate of February 26th, adds to our knowledge of this memorable
debate.


(1781,) Feb. 27, Tuesday.--I have received no comfort or pleasure for
some days, but what I had last night by a letter from Mrs. Sowerby to
Lady Gower, and which Lady Gower was so good as to send to me.

I find by that that the children at Trentham are well, and that
Charlotte is so altered for the better as to be reconnoissable. But of
you and of Caroline, Lady C., Louise, I know nothing. The weather has
been so wet that I have not proposed to Storer his visit to George, of
which I shall profit. For my own pleasure, I long to see him.

We were in the House of Commons last night till half [an] hour past
twelve. The majority of our side against the second reading of Burke's
Bill,(153) and in fact, by a following question of rejecting it, was of
43, if I mistook not. I was not in the House to hear anybody speak a
syllable, nor do I ever wish it. I believe there is no actor upon the
stage of either theatre who, repeating what the author has wrote, does
not, at the same time, recite his own private sentiments oftener, than
our pantomimes in Parliament.

The chief subject of C. Fox's harangue yesterday was an eloge upon
economy, and Jack Townshend,(154) who spoke for the second time,
rehearsed these maxims of his preceptor. Jack did better than the time
before, but was so eclipsed by Mr. W. Pitt, that it appeared to
impartial people but an indifferent performance. This young man, Mr.
Pitt, gained an universal applause.(155) I heard Lord N(orth) say it
was the best first speech of a young man that he had ever heard. It was
a very crowded House, but there were there neither Mr. Dunning, Mr.
Barry, or General Burgoyne. This was matter of speculation.

The P(rince) of W(ales) is said to have a kind of carbuncle. Mr. Delme
told me that Lady B(etty) had heard from her mother, and that she
talked of being here in April. Indeed I see no feasibility in any other
scheme, although many would to her passions appear more eligible.

Lord Althorp(156) is to be married before the 10th of March--that is
all that Lady Lucan would tell me. I hear of no more news. The Emperor
is expected or it is hoped will assist us, at least with his mediation.
There is all my foreign politics. The regaining America or having any
kind of peace from that quarter is with me a perte de vue. I wish the
spring was a little advanced that I might walk out, for nothing but
George can make me stir out of my room, except in fine weather, and I
have a hundred places to call at. I do not tease you, or ever will,
about writing, but pray get some one person in your allegiance to write
to me for you. I want neither anecdotes, or sentiments, or politics,
but I want to know frequently how you all do. The Attorney General told
me last night that there was no expecting an account of you but from
me; j'eus honte de le detromper. I am supposed to have letters
constantly from my Lord Lieutenant, and I give myself so much air at
least as not to deny it.

(153) For the better regulation of Civil Establishments, and of certain
public offices, and for the limitation of pensions, and the suppression
of certain useless, expensive, and inconvenient places.

(154) John Townshend (1757-1833); second son of the fourth Viscount and
first Marquis of Townshend. He was returned for the University of
Cambridge in 1780, and lost his seat in 1784 when Pitt was elected.

(155) See Storer's letterbelow: "Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle,"
(1781), Feb. 28.

(156) George John, afterwards second Earl Spencer, K.G. (1758-1834);
married March 6, 1781, Lavinia, daughter of the first Earl of Lucan.


Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle.

(1781), Feb. 28.--I have not wrote to you so often as perhaps I ought
to do, and as I really wish, because in regard to everything that
passes on this side the water at present, the newspaper is a very
authentic chronicle. The debates in Parliament are not frequent, and
when they do happen Mr. Woodfall reports them very much at large, and
almost always faithfully. In regard to the chronique scandaleuse, there
is no occasion for any report, as the Session seems a maiden one.
These two heads, which Selwyn does not in general interfere with,
I should have thought fell under my department, and I should certainly
[have] told you all I knew but for the reasons which I have given. I
take it for granted Selwyn writes to you principally about Lord
Morpeth, as I perceive he is in general uppermost in his thoughts, and
the subject on which he converses le plus volontiers avec moi. Le seul
bien qui nous rests, &c.

We had a debate on Monday, when Mr. Pitt for the first time made such a
speech, that it excited the admiration very justly of every man in the
House. Except he had foreseen the particular species of nonsense which
Lord Nugent was to utter, his speech could not be prepared; it was
delivered without any kind of improper assurance, but with the exact
proper self-possession which ought to accompany a speaker. There was
not a word or a look which one would have wished to correct. This, I
believe, in general was the universal sense of all those who heard him,
and exactly the effect which his speech had on me, at the time I heard
it.

Mr. Sheridan did very well; he said a very (few) words in answer to Mr.
Courtenay, each word being exactly placed where it ought to be--quasi
tesserata emblemate--as if he had studied them a week beforehand, and
had read them instead of speaking them. His harvest at the Opera House
is likely to be very successful, for his Saturdays and Tuesdays are so
full, that he is going even to attempt the Thursdays. Vestris' Ballet
people think too long. "It is impossible that an English audience
should be satisfied. They don't know when they have got a good
spectacle, and think that finding fault is the only way to pass for
judges." Such are the words of his Honour, the prophet Brudenell. John
St. John says that the Baccelli is thrown away in the part of Nannette;
au lieu d'etre danseuse, elle n'est que la Columbine. This he takes
from the Baccelli, and the Duke of Dorset. John acts a strange
underpart at the theatre. Mademoiselle Baccelli's runner is not so
honourable an employment as being Lord North's.

Selwyn lost within this week a large sum of money. He was so larmoyant
the other morning, that I did not dare to ask him any questions about
it. Delme has sold all his hunters, and sold them at very extraordinary
prices; his hounds too sold excessively well; it was fortunate at all
events to part with them, but the people who bought them, according to
all accounts, were as mad as he had been in keeping them. . . .

In Monday night's debate neither Dunning (n)or Barry was in the House;
that looks very like a measure; it is impossible that should be mere
accident. Opposition were without several of their plumpers that
evening, either from their being ill or their being out of town. Lord
Robert and Lord Edward for instance were ill; Ned Foley and his
brother-in-law, out of town; Lord Howe and Doily not in the House, with
more that do not occur to me. Burke acted with his usual bad judgment
in not letting Sir Fletcher Norton speak before him, but rather
pressing his privilege of bringing in the Bill, to speak before him;
consequently Sir Fletcher did not speak at all. It was a debate of
young members entirely. Neither Charles Fox or Lord N(orth) spoke.
There is a Select Committee upon East India affairs sitting, at which
there is a great deal of curious evidence given relating to the
manners, customs, and religion of the Gentoos. I was there one morning,
and was very much entertained with the accounts of the witnesses. A
Brammin, who is now in England, was examined on Monday. Voici, milord,
assez de details.


(1781,) March 24, Saturday.--. . . Mr. Potts has just left me. I
have been freer from pain these last 29 (or 24?) hours. I am now to
bathe three times a week, take opiate going to bed for some nights,
and begin a course of bark. I take nothing after my coffee, besides,
except Orgeat. I have quite relinquished nasty Brooks's, as Lady
C(arlisle) calls it. I am with the sexagenary of White's, et de
cette maniere je passe le temps assez tranquillement.

12 o'clock.--Here comes a letter from George for Lady C[arlisle],
brought to me by a gardener of Mr. Raikes, under his cover. Lord
Deerhurst has sent a formal proposal of marriage by Lord Ligonier to
Lady something Powis--Lord Powis's sister, who, to save appearance
of repulse, has returned for answer that she will take three or four
days to consider of it. This I have from Williams. He and his father
have constant altercations upon this subject. Lord Cov(entry) does
not object to the plan of marriage, but says it is not practicable,
on account of circumstances. I shall hear nothing of the matter from
the parties themselves. Ce n'est pas mon affaire, et je ne m'en
melerai pas, aux signes de perdre les bonne graces de ce belle-mere.
Lady M'Cartney has wrote to me to hire my house; but one thing I am
resolved upon is, not to let it to an acquaintance. I shall keep it
in its present state till these things at Avignon are determined
upon.

I dine to-day at the Bishop of Salisbury's, and to-morrow at Lord
Lisbourne's. I was to have gone for a day with Lady Fitzw[illiam] to
Roehampton, if these damned spasmodic complaints ne m'etoient pas
survenus. However, Potts assures me that I shall be well again, but
that I must take more care of myself. Je le crois. I have a great
mind, as you may imagine, to see you again, and Lady C(arlisle) and
Caroline, and all of you, and I have d'autres raisons qui
m'attachent au monde, et je n'en suis pas degoute parce qu'il est
comme il a toujours ete et comme il sera a toute eternite. I am very
angry with Emily, that he will not write to me; is he afraid that
his style is not good, or of what? . . . The play at Brooks's is
exorbitant, I hear; Grady and Sir Godfrey Whistler and the General
and Admiral are at the head of it. Charles looks wretchedly, I am
told, but I have scarce seen him. Richard is in high cash, and that
is all I know of that infernal house. Adieu; my respects to Lady
Carlisle, and my most hearty love to the children. My best
compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Eden, and to Crowle, and pray rub Mr.
Dean Emily's ears till he writes to me.


It is not desirable that those who present a correspondence for
perusal should play too much the part of a showman. Letters speak
for themselves. Yet that which Selwyn wrote on April 14th may well
be pointed to as giving, in a few lines, a reflection in miniature
of the events grave and gay which were then interesting London
society. We see it vividly, how people were admiring Lady Crawford's
new chair, remarking parenthetically of bad news from across the
Atlantic. But society was less frivolous perhaps than it seemed; the
distance from America, the length of time which elapsed between the
happening of an event and the news of it in England, the meagreness
of the intelligence when at length it arrived, prevented the public
imagination from being aroused, and so public interest and opinion
lay inert.


(1781,) April 24, Tuesday noon, 1 o'clock.--. . . . . .
 P.S. Tuesday afternoon, 3 o'clock.--. . . Vary has just dropped in
upon me, and says that news is come from Arthburnot (sic), that
there has been a skirmish with the Fr(ench) Adm[iral], and it was a
kind of drawn battle; that General Phillips has joined Arnold with
2,000 men. He came to ask after George; il ne scait pas encore, a
quel point le monde s'interesse pour lui. My best and most
affectionate respects to Lady Carlisle, and my love to Caroline, and
to her sisters, not forgetting Louisa, chi gia non sovra di me.

Two balls! very fine, Caroline. Mie Mie will have seen but one, and
that is Mr. Wills's annual ball. But we are very well feathered for
that, a la Uestris. I had not the ordering so much ornament, and
when it is over, and we have had our diversion, I shall read a
lecture upon heads, which I wish not to be filled with so many
thoughts about dress. But she coaxed Mrs. Webb into all this a mon
inscu, and then I cannot be Mr. Killjoy; so pour le moment I seem to
approve of it.

We have been at one opera, and| instead of other spectacles, I
propose to go for the first part of the evening to Ranelagh, quand
la presse n'y sera pas. Lady Craufurd's new chair is, as Sir C.
Williams said of Dicky's, the charming'st thing in town, et les deux
laquais qui la precedent attirent les yeux de tous les envieux et
envieuses.

Sir Alexander comes and dines here with March, and is as easy as
ever was Sir Jos. Vanheck, and lives with his friends now upon the
same foot as before this acquisition of honour. I am told that you
have a receipt as Lord Lieutenant to make knights yourself. But I
suppose if you intend me such an honour I must come and fetch it. I
suppose you do everything that is Royal except touching for the
Evil, which would be the most useful fleuron of the Crown if it was
effectual.

Storer was out of spirits yesterday at dinner, and I found out
afterwards that he had been losing, like a simple boy, his money at
Charles's and Richard's damned Pharo bank, which swallows up
everybody's cash that comes to Brooks's, as I am told. I suppose
that the bank is supported, if such a thing wanted support, by
Brooks himself and your friend Jack Manners. It is a creditable way
of living, I must own; and it would be well if by robbing some you
might pay others, only that ce qui est acquis et (est?) jette par la
fenetre, et si l'on paye, ou ne s'acquitte pas.


(1781,) May 16, Wednesday night.--I was engaged to dine to-day at
Lady Ossory's,(157) but I called in at Lady Lucan's, and they
obliged me to send an excuse, and so I dined there, and dine at Lady
Ossory's on Saturday. I found myself with a party of Irish, Dean
Marly, and Lady Clermont, and with her Mrs. Jones, whom I was
ravished to see, for she had given a ball where Caroline was, and
commended her dancing, and I tormented the poor woman with such a
number of questions about her, that I believe she thought me
distracted. It is hard upon me to be so circumstanced that I cannot
see what would give me so much pleasure, but on ne peut pas menager
le choux et la chevre. If it pleases God that I should live, I shall
have that, and for a time a great deal more, for I think that I must
be quite wore out with infirmities, and blindness must be one, if
seeing Caroline appear to advantage will not give me pleasure. . . .

I saw Charles to-day in a new hat, frock, waistcoat, shirt, and
stockings; he was as clean and smug as a gentleman, and upon
perceiving my surprise, he told me that it was from the Pharo Bank.
He then talked of the thousands it had lost, which I told him only
proved its substance, and the advantage of the trade. He smiled, and
seemed perfectly satisfied with that which he had taken up; he was
in such a sort of humour that I should have liked to have dined with
him. His old clothes, I suppose, have been burned like the paupers
at Salt Hill.

(157) Anne, only child of Lord Ravensworth. In 1769 she was divorced
from the Duke of Grafton and shortly afterward married the Earl of
Upper Ossory. She was a correspondent of Selwyn, and of Walpole, who
called her "my duchess." She was "gifted with high endowments of
mind and person, high spirited, and noble in her ways of thinking,
and generous in her disposition."


(1781,) May 21, Monday morning.--. . . . Yesterday about the middle
of the day, passing by Brooks's, I saw a Hackney coach, which
announced a late sitting. I had the curiosity to enquire how things
were, and found Richard in his Pharo pulpit, where he had been,
alternately with Charles, since the evening before, and dealing to
Adm. Pigott only. I saw a card on the table--"Received from
Messieurs Fox & Co. 1,500 guineas." The bank ceased in a few minutes
after I was in the room; it was a little after 12 at noon, and it
had won 3,400 or 500 g(uineas). Pigott, I believe, was the chief
loser.

At Devonshire House there had been a bank held by Sir W. Aston and
Grady, and that won 700. Martindale cannot get paid, because, as
Charles says, he is not allowed to take money from the bank; he
means for the payment of debts, but yet I hear some are paid, such
as O'Kelly and other blacklegs. But there are at this time two
executions in his house, and Richard's horses were taken the other
day from his coach, as Lady Ossory tells me.

Charles says that he is accable de demandes, comme de dettes, et
avec la reputation d'avoir de l'argent, il ne sait ou donner de la
tete. A vous dire la verite, si j'avais une tete comme la sienne, ou
je me la ferois couper, ou j'en tirerois bien meilleur parti que ne
fait notre ami; son charactere, son genie, et sa conduite sont
egalement extraordinaires et m'est (me sont) incomprehensibles.

Lord G. Cavendish is to be married to Lady Eliz. Compton, it being
agreed that the Cavendish family must be continued from his loins.
Me. La Duchesse fait des paroles, mais non pas des enfans. I hear
that she has won immensely, et avec beaucoup d'exactitude, ce qui
n'est pas fort ordinaire aux dames.

Harry St. John has been here to ask me to hold a bank to-night at
his wife's, and I had an invitation from Mrs. Crewe(158) also this
morning to come to her, and I suppose for the same purpose. Je
rename a tout cela; les inconveniens en sont innombrables; all my
play at present is confined to a rubber at whist, and a little Pharo
with Ailsford, and perhaps two or three more. Le grand evenement
c'est la perte or la gain de 50 or 80 guineas.

4 o'clock.--Come home to dinner. No letters as yet come from Ireland.
Lord Egremont tells me that Digby is sent after La Motte
Piquet.(159) I went to Miss Gunning's to carry her a parcel of
francs, but I did not find her at home. I expect to see Mitchel back
in a few days; the wind, as I am told, is favourable for his return.

The post has brought me letters from Holyhead, but no other, so what
kind of passage my dear little boy has had over the sea I am still
to know. But he was, I doubt not, safe with you on Friday, and will
I hope in God remain so. I met Sir N. Thomas to-day, with whom I had
some conversation about him. I do not perceive that he has a very
favourable opinion of the Irish climate, for those whose lungs are
not very strong. I hope to hear that Louisa is better. My love to
them all most cordially, and to Lady Carlisle with my best respects
at the same time. What a cursed affair to me is this Lieutenancy of
Ireland, and a damned sea between us! Lord Buckingham shewed me last
night an infernal ugly gold box which he had received from the town
of Cork, and such another I understood that you would have. Adieu; I
have heard no news to-day.

Our club at White's commence a tomber; la grande presse n'y (est?)
pas; c'est un asyle toujours pour les caducs, et pour ceux qui n'ont
pas une passion decidee pour le jeu.

(158) The fashionable beauty, "whose mind kept the promise was made
by her face," as Fox sang; the woman whom he said he preferred to
any living. She was the daughter of Sir Everard Falkener, and was
married to Mr. Crewe in the same year (1764) as her sister who
became the celebrated Mrs. Bouverie.

(159) Commander of the French fleet.


(1781, May 29.)--You must know that for these two days past, all
passengers in St. James' Street have been amused with seeing two
carts at Charles's door filling, by the Jews, with his goods,
clothes, books, and pictures. He was waked by Basilico yesterday,
and Hare afterwards by his valet de chambre, they bein(g) told at
the same time that the execution was begun, and the carts were drawn
up against the door. Such furniture I never saw.

Betty and Jack Manners are perpetually in a survey of this
operation, and Charles, with all Brooks's on his behalf, in the
highest spirits. And while this execution is going on in one part of
the street, Charles, Richard, and Hare are alternatively holding a
bank of 3,000 pounds ostensible, and by which they must have got
among them near 2,000. Lord Robert since his bankruptcy, and in
consideration of his party principles, is admitted, as I am told, to
some small share in this.

What public business is going on I know not, for all the discourse
at which I am present turns upon this bank. Offly sat up last night
till four, and I believe has lost a good part of his last legacy.
Lord Spencer did not sit up, but was there punting at 4. Now the
windows are open at break of day, et le masque leve, rien ne
surprend qu'a qui tout soit nouveau, et ne ressemble a rien que l'on
ait jamais vu depuis le commencement du monde. There is to-night a
great ball at Gloucester House; it is the Restoration Day, and the
birthday also of Princess Sophia. Lady Craufurd is now dressing for
it, with more roses, blood, and furbelow than were ever yet
enlisted(?). My love and thanks to my dear boy for his letter, which
I will answer.


(1781,) May 31, Thursday.--If I did not send you tous les petits
details de ma vie, as insignificant as it is, our correspondence
must soon cease, which is one of the greatest pleasures to me, or
rather comforts, in your absence. I trust to others the information
of things of more consequence. I have, then, if this is not
disagreeable to you, a perpetual source of intelligence, for
although je ne fais rien qui vaille, I am always doing or hearing
something, as much as those who are employed about more important
matters, and if among these a circumstance happens to interest or
amuse you, je ne serai pas fache de vous l'avoir mandee.

The diversion of seeing Charles's dirty furniture in the street, and
the speculations which this execution has caused, avec tous les
propos, et toutes les plaisanteries qui en resultant--all that is
now over, and he is established either at his Pharo table, or at his
apothecary's, Mr. Mann, who, as a recompense for the legacy which
was left by his father and not yet paid, has Charles for a lodger.
Jack Manners does not scruple to say that he knows for a certainty
that this bank has won to the amount of 40,000 pounds, but then Jack
does not scruple to lie when he chooses so to do. I cannot conceive
above half the sum to have been won; but then, most of it has been
paid.

Trusty's advancement to a share in this bank, and his new occupation
of dealing, was what I had a great curiosity to see; and although he
is, as you know, fort chiche de ses paroles, he is obliged for the
time that he is upon duty to say "The King loses," and "The Knave
wins," and this for some'hours, while Charles and Richard are in
bed. Hare is also indefatigable, but what his share is, or what have
been his profits, I know not. Never was a room so crowded or so hot
as this was last night. I could not stay, or chose so to do. The
punters were Lord Ossory, Lord C. Spencer, Admiral Pigott, General
Smith, Lord Monson, Sir J. Ramsden, &c., &c.

To-day I dine at Lord Ossory's with Lord Robert and Harry Conway,
qui m'avoient demande a diner, but it was by Ossory's desire to his
house. I mentioned to Lord Ossory the offer which the Duchess of
Bedford had made me of Streatham, and I was much blamed for refusing
it. If the offer is made again I shall accept it, and it will serve
me for a villa till I have hired another.

The Fish came a few evenings ago to dine at Brooks's after the House
of Commons was up, but hearing by accident that Lord North dined at
White's he went thither, and ordered some champagne and burgundy
from his own house for his Lordship's use. He got a dinner by this
means the next day at Rigby's with Lord Mansfield and the
Chancellor, and then he came to Ossory, and gave himself a thousand
airs upon this invitation. I have told you perhaps that a nephew of
Lord Chedworth's, the heir of his title and estate, got into the
same scrape at Epsom as Onslow did at the Exhibition; ceci prouve la
force d'une passion qui est hors de la nature; les autres ont leurs
bornes, et de la discretion jusqu'a un certain point.

I went from dinner yesterday to the House of Commons, and came just
time enough to be in a division upon some American question, God
knows what. I was received in the House with a laugh, because three
parts out of four believed me to be with you in Ireland, as bouffon
de la Cour. This the morning papers had instructed them to believe,
and such is the notion I believe that the writers of those papers
have of my talents and turn. You have not told me that Lady Carlisle
is with child, but I hear it from other hands. Be so good as not to
let me be ignorant of these probable events, in which my affection
to her and to you is so much interested.


I sat a great while the other morning with Miss Gunning at St.
James's; Sir Robert was with her. She is afraid of having the
measles; her sister has them at present. The Ball at Glouc(ster)
House was magnificent, and their Royal Highnesses gracious al
maggior segno. They call the others, "the people in Pall Mall," and
the man in Pall Mall calls the Duke(160) "the Warden of the Forest,"
and distinguishes him by no other name. I wonder that they do not
let other people find names for them both, who know them better than
they do themselves.

64
(161) is to be a fine sight, that is, a great concourse of people
will be there, I suppose, on their Majesties' account. Mie Mie wants
to go. If the Townshends, that is Mary and Lady Middleton, had
offered to be troubled with her, I should have consented and gone
there myself. I have made no preparations for the Birthday, but
thinking where I shall go to avoid it; or for yours, but I will;
Storer shall dine with me that day, et ceux que je crois vous etre
les plus attaches, and we will drink the health of their
Excellencies, cela du petit dauphin, of my dear little Caroline, et
ainsi du reste. Pierre tells me that she is not so tall as Mie Mie
is at present; en dedommagement de cela elle est cent mille fois
plus robuste. As to myself, j'ai un management pour ma sante
incroyable. For I am determined, if it pleases God, to live to see
you and all of you again, but when or where, that must be left to
the chapter of accidents. Emily has left off writing to me; he wrote
to me twice pour faire votre eloge, ce qui ne fut fort peu
necessaire, and there was an end of his epistolary correspondence.
Pray goad that Dean(162) who slumbers in his stall, and make him
write. . . .

(160) Of Gloucester.

(161) In the time of George III. and up to the date when it was
abolished in 1847, Montem at Eton was a school holiday, an "event,"
as we should now say, of the London season. Of its origin nothing is
known, but the ceremony of a procession in military costume "ad
Montem" to a mound near Slough, now called Salt Hill, can be traced
back to the sixteenth century. Visitors were offered salt by some of
the boys, and in exchange gave money. The amount collected after
payment of the expenses belonged to the captain of the school.
--"History of Eton College," by H. C. Maxwell-Lyte, p. 450.

(162) Edward Emly, Dean of Derry.


(1781,) June 1, Friday m(orning).--I am at this moment employed fort
pedagoguement. I have taken into my own department Mie Mie's
translations out of English into French. That is, I am at her elbow
when she translates, and by that means can see what faults she makes
from insufficiency, and what are produced from carelessness. She is
very much so if left to herself, but is very much improved, as I
perceive. But Mrs. Webb can be of no use in this, and so I have the
task when Labort is not here. I hope that Caroline has somebody to
read French with her who has a real good pronunciation, otherwise it
will take un mauvais pli, which will not be so easy to recover, and
it is better not to speak a language at all than without some sort
of grace.

To-day I give a dinner to the bankers; the two not upon duty come
here at five, and when the other two come off they will find here
des rechauffes; to the Duke of Q(ueensberry) and Mr. Greenville, and
to two chance comers; it may be Boothby and Storer, or Sir C.
Bunbury. It is too hot to go out to-day. I have seen nobody, and the
rise and fall of the bank is not as yet added to the other stocks in
the morning papers. It is frequently declared from the window, or
gallery, aux passans. Pigott was there this morning at four, and
from May the 31st (sic) at night, that is, from Tuesday night, about
nine. The account brought to White's, about supper time, was that he
had rose to eat a mutton chop. But that merits confirmation.

Young Pitt made yesterday on the Accounts another speech,(163) which
is much admired, in which there was du sel, et du piquant, a pleines
mains. Charles en fut enchants, and I hear that the satire of it was
pointed strongly against Lord N(orth). It wanted no other
recommendation to the party who dines here to-day. Sir J. Irwin will
be soon with you. I supped with him at White's, and with Lord
Glendower and Lord Westmoreland, &c., &c., and I concluded my
sitting with a little bank to Harry Carteret, Sir W. Gordon, Lord
Ailsford and General Grant, and to no others. I had them in great
order. I do not allow the opposite no greater sum than 5 guineas,
and such byelaws as these I oblige the observance of, and I won 120
guineas. They waited till near one before I had finished my prosing,
and telling old stories at supper to the two young men. When they
were finished, I retired and opened my bank.

Charles's house is now going to be new painted, and entire new
furniture to be put into it, belonging to I do not know who(m). He
was security for an annuity of Richard's, and so suffered this
seizure on his account. It is a strange combination altogether, and
is now more the subject of conversation than any other topic, and it
serves me also as one to fill my letter. Si le recit vous ennuye,
vous n'ignorez pas le motif que j'ai a vous le faire. I suppose that
you are not always at audiences, and that you may like sometimes to
know what passes in circles from whence everything of moment is
excluded, and where you may be again, to relieve yourself from
business.

To-day I expect a letter from Warner, and of great decision and
importance as to the matter about which he has been employed. But if
I see him come in while I am at dinner I shall not be surprised. If
I have a letter I will send you the substance of it, for I may not
go out again after dinner, or only to Lady Harrington's. My bank is
not like that at Brooks's; there are a great many lacunes, and it is
not above once in I do not know how long that I can get such a party
as I had last night.

Ossory's new house is delightful, and the furniture mighty well
chose. I have not met yet Lord Euston there, as I expected, But I
have dined there less this than former years.

(163) Pitt's second speech, on May 31st, was against a Bill to
continue an Act for the appointment of Commissioners' accounts. The
Opposition were defeated by 98 votes to 42. The speech attracted
great notice.



(1781,) June 2, Saturday morning.--Charles Fox has desired me to
send Gregg to him, and is to discharge the annuity for which you are
bound, and, I hope, to pay off the arrears at the same time. I have
wrote to Gregg, to desire that he will lose no time, as Charles's
property is of a very fluctuating kind. My dinner of yesterday was a
very agreeable one to me, and seemed to be so to the rest. But
Charles had forgot, when he promised to come to me, that he was
engaged to the Duke of Grafton. The rest came, for this remarkable
sitting at Pharo was over yesterday morning about seven o'clock, and
so shall be my further account of it. The event is so often repeated
that it becomes less extraordinary. But I have known of no other to
entertain you with for some days past. General Craigs sets off for
Ireland in about a week or ten days. I shall send my box of things
for the children, either by him or Mr. Kinsman. . . .

The Montem is put off from Monday till Wednesday, for the
convenience of their Majesties, who are to be there. The Queen will
not have prayers read in the manner that they have been used to be
there; she sees it [in] the light of a comedy acted, and therefore,
improper. Doctor Young, the Fellow, has just been with me, to ask me
if I could borrow a regimental suit of clothes, sash, and gorgette
from some officer of the Guards, of my acquaintance. I intend to ask
Richard, for the boy who is to wear it is, by Doctor Y(oung)'s
account, of Richard's height. If I had known it before, I could have
sent to Matson for a sash which my father wore at the battle of
Blenheim, where he assisted as Aid-de-Camp to my Lord Marlborough.
It will be a very lucrative campaign for the boy, who is captain.
His name is Roberts; he is a son of one of the Fellows.

Storer's business is not, from what I have accidentally heard, in so
great forwardness as I was in hopes that it had been. There must be
two vacancies at the Board before he has a very good chance, if he
has any. Lord Walsingham has no inclination to quit; it is a scene
of business which he likes. \ Mr. Buller has been many years in
Parliament, and I am afraid that his pretensions will preponderate
above the friendship or good-will which Lord N(orth) professes to
Storer. I picked up this by accident as I was going out yesterday
airing with Mie Mie, after my company had left me. I met Lord
Brudenel, and I collected this from his conversation, for he did not
tell it me directly. But this and everything else, trifling or not,
I think myself obliged to let you know, et enfin ne n'en laisser au
boute de ma plume.

But I am particularly desirous to inform you of what concerns
Storer, because I am persuaded that you wish to serve him. Your
protection ought to be a valid one, and Lord N(orth) will not, I
should imagine, choose to displease you; as to myself, maintenant
que mes ongles sont rognes comme ils le sont, he will treat me with
what indifference he pleases, and I know no remedy for it, but what
is worse than the disease. Then it is more supineness,
insensibility, and natural arrogance than any desire to use me worse
than another. He has no tact in point of breeding, and he lays all
his business on Robinson's(164) shoulders, who has behaved worse to
me than any man ever did; but I must take shame to myself for that,
because, if I had rejected his first proposal of standing for
Gloucester, by his suggestion, against my own reason and
inclination, he would never have dared to have treated me ill any
more. I hope to be rich enough in a year or two more, if I live, to
be as much a patriot as I happen to choose; but it is a fichu
matter, as times go, and nobody of common sense ever gives you any
credit for it. I shall be contented only, if, instead of making a
bargain with a Minister, I can be in circumstances good enough to
sell him one, if he uses me ill.

(164) John Robinson, Secretary to the Treasury.


[1781,] June 5, Tuesday.--. . . . I know of nothing rpmarkable at
the Birthday yesterday. I put on the best clothes which I had, about
nine at night, to make a bow to their Majesties sur leur passage, as
they went to the ball room, and there the Queen stopped and said
some very gracious things to me, which my great deference to her
Majesty made me not understand, but I bowed and thanked her,
supposing that she said something that interested me. The King's
face was turned the other way, and he did not see me, but I was
taken notice of dans l'antichambre du Roi, and so it was very well,
and it was there that I saw my nephew Broderick, who had just had an
audience of the King. His Royal Highness's(165) equipages are very
becoming, and give some little splendour to the Court. I could tell
poor Guerchy now that we had not des vaisseaux only, but des
carro(s)es; we have des Princes, God knows, a foison. The Princess
Royal seems a very agreeable young woman, but I had only a transient
glance of her. Her air and manner seemed good. One coach came by
after another in their liveries, and each stuffed with royal
children, like a cornucopia with fruit and flowers. Bory got I do
not (know) how many of my servants, by some escalier derobe, to see
the ball-room and some of the dances; he has a back stairs interest
through that of Lord Trentham's nurse, and being himself the State
Trumpeter in a neighbouring kingdom, is of some note and importance,
and all is at my use and service. He is a very honest good creature.
I wish that I had room for him here in this house instead of in
Chesterfield Street. Bob grows every day more and more attached to
him, but I cannot dawdle him as Horry Walpole does Tonton, for Me du
Deffand's sake, nor does he seem to expect it. He has the accueil of
a respectable old suisse in my hall, where I meet him on coming home
in a posture couchante. Adieu; till I have letters, remember me
kindly to all, but to the dear children in particular. It is a great
grievance to me not to see them. Je vieillis, et je m'en appercois.

(165) The Prince of Wales.


(1781,) June 11, Monday evening.--. . . . The Duke of Q(ueensberry)
dined here to-day, and, by an accident, the Duke of Dorset. I had
also Mr. Selwin who was a banker in Paris, a worthy man, but a more
splenetic one I never knew, with an extreme good understanding. We
are of the same family, by his account, although I do not know the
degree of affinity in which we stand to each other.

To-morrow I find a Motion(165) is to come from Fox concerning
America, to which he may, contrary to his expectation or wishes,
find in the friends of Government an assent. People now seem by
their discourse to despair more of that cause than ever. There has
been wretched management, disgraceful politics, I am sure; where the
principal blame is, the Lord only knows; in many places, I am
afraid.

The Duke of Gloucester is going to-morrow, as I hear, to Brussels,
to meet the Emperor. I hope for our sake that they will be deux
tetes dans le meme bonnet, but la difference en est trop evidente.
That between our master and his son is not less, if report says
true. They have great reason to be uneasy, I believe, but they must,
when they reflect, think, that their own conduct has been very much
the cause of it, and that they either have not read history, or
forgot it.

The Pharo bank goes on, and winning; cela s'entend. The winnings are
computed to be 30,000. Each of the bankers, to encourage him in his
application and to make him as much amends as possible for the waste
of his constitution, is entitled to a guinea for every deal from the
bank; and so our Trusty is in a way of honest industry, dealing at
the pay of a guinea every ten minutes. There is also an insurance
against cards coming up on the losing side, which is no
inconsiderable profit to the underwriters.

Offly has had unexpectedly fallen to him, by way of legacy, an
estate of some hundreds a year, which enables him to punt till past
five in the morning.

I had a very pleasant day yesterday at Gregg's, and as often as I
mention these excursions I have a long dissertation from the Duke
[of Queensberry] upon the folly of having a country house at above
ten or fourteen miles distance from London; which reflections will
end in nothing but a condemnation of what he has, and never procure
the enjoyment of that which I am sure he would like above all things
if he had it. His uncertainty is in some measure the cause of my
own, but shall not govern it, beyond the present year.

Craigs sets out for Ireland on Thursday. I am concerned at the
account which you give me of Ekins. I hope to hear no more of your
own gout. But if you feel symptoms of it, pray do not conceal them
from me.

I go to-night to Marlborough House,(166) and there is also a
promenade at Bedford House,(167) but it is announced that no candles
will be lighted. My nephew Broderick is to have a 500 pound
gratuity, and a Majority, and Lord Cornwallis(168) will solicit
leave for his purchasing a company in the Guards.

Pray remember me most kindly to Lady Carlisle, and my hearty love to
all the children without exception or preference. If George is to
come here again, let me know it. If not, I shall not expect it.

Charles's house, like a phoenix from the flames, is new painted, and
going to be new furnished, with certain precautions to keep his
furniture a l'abri de ses creanciers. You have heard how he has
liquidated the annuity for which you was engaged. There are still
arrears due to you, to a considerable amount. This Pharo Bank is
held in a manner which, being so exposed to public view, bids
defiance to all decency and police. The whole town as it passes
views the dealer and the punters, by means of the candles, and the
windows being levelled with the ground. The Opposition, who have
Charles for their ablest advocate, is quite ashamed of the
proceeding, and hates to hear it mentioned.

I hear of neither deaths, marriages, or preferments; public news
come to your knowledge sooner, and with more authenticity, than
through me; so I have no more to say at present, but to beg that I
may hear from you as often as possible, and that I may have the
satisfaction of knowing that you are well. These assurances cannot
be too often repeated to me, who am interested by every degree of
affection in knowing whatever concerns you or yours.

My best compliments to Dr. Ekins, and my love once more to George,
and to his sisters. He has wrote as often to me as I expected. I
shall never, as long as I live, forget his assurances upon that
head, the tone and air with which he said it, and the cordiality of
it. Il a indubitablement le meilleur des coeurs possibles.

(165) On June 12th Fox moved that the House should resolve itself
into a Committee to consider the American war, at the same time
moving a further resolution that Ministers should take every
possible measure to conclude peace with the American Colonies. The
Motion was rejected by 172 to 99.

(166) Marlborough House was designed by Wren; it reverted to the
Crown in 1817.

(167) Bedford House, built in the reign of Charles II., covered the
whole of the north side of what is now Bloomsbury Square. It was
sold and pulled down in 1800.

(168) Charles first Marquis Cornwallis (1738-1805). In early life
Cornwallis was both a soldier and a politician. Though one of the
few men opposed to the taxation of the American Colonists, he felt
bound as a soldier to serve against them and was undoubtedly the
most able of the English generals. In 1786, at the urgent request of
Pitt, he became Governor General of India and did not return to
England till 1793. In 1798 Cornwallis again entered the public
service as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland and occupied that position at
the time of the Union. At his death he was again Viceroy of India.


(1781,) June 13, Wednesday m(orming).--As I think, after having
wrote a long letter to Dr. Ekins, I shall have little to say to you,
so I take only this vessel of paper for my purpose. Mrs. Webb and I
are going to consummate our unfinished loves at Streatham, and to
reside there at times for the next six weeks. I shall make use of
this opportunity to fix myself in a country house for next year, and
perhaps the Duke of Q(ueensberry) may do the same, for from that
distance to about ten miles further we have agreed is the best to
answer our purposes. We must necessarily have two houses, that
purity and impurity may not occasionally meet. Lady Ossory has
negotiated this matter for me, and this morning I shall go to
Bedford House to do homage, as a tenant-at-will.

I heard yesterday young Pitt; I came down into the House to judge
for myself. He is a young man who will undoubtedly make his way in
the world by his abilities. But to give him credit for being very
extraordinary, upon what I heard yesterday, would be absurd. If the
oration had been pronounced equally well by a young man whose name
was not of the same renown, and if the matter and expression had
come without that prejudice, or wrote down, all which could have
been said was, that he was a sensible and promising young man. There
is no fairer way of judging.

Lord Cambden's son acquitted himself but very ill; however, Lord
Chatham did him the honour to say that he sees he will make a
speaker, so we must give him credit for what he may do by what Lord
Chatham has said.

If I wanted reputation, and to be puffed, and could afford to pay
for such nonsense, I would certainly be in Opposition, and sit in
the House in the places where Ossory and Lord Robert and young
Greenville sit. But the difficulty would be to extol my speaking
when I said nothing.

The guinea a deal is now deemed too much, so Charles has published a
new edict, and they have only five guineas an hour, by which Lord
Robert cannot earn in a day more than Brooks gets by furnishing
cards and candles. Pigott has found out that punting is not
advantageous, and has left it off. The General is not yet of the
same opinion. Lord Spencer, Mr. Heneage, Offley, &c., are des culs
de plomb, and the bankers' coaches are not ordered till about six in
the morning.

Lord Abergavenny's son is certainly to marry Robinson's daughter. He
gives her 25,000 pounds down, which does not pay all the young man's
debts. Lord A(bergavenny) gives them a thousand a year. He is a
weak, good-tempered young man, or, as the King of Prussia called an
acquaintance of mine, the Comte de Bohn, une belle bete.

Robinson seems rejoiced that he is to be allied to the Nevills, and
that his posterity is to have the bear and ragged staff, red roses,
and portcullises for their insignia. Malden, to console himself for
the infidelity of Mrs. Robinson, is gone to Bruxelles with his Royal
Highness.(169)

(169) The Duke of Gloucester.


(1781, June 13,) Wednesday, 4 o clock.--P.S.--I have been at Bedford
House, and performed my homage. I dine at Streatham on Sunday, and
in the course of the next week go to settle myself there. I met
Admiral Biron in my way back, and had some discourse with him on the
subject of his sister.(170) He spoke to me about her with great good
nature and reason, but said that the correspondence was between his
wife and her, and seemed to hint, if he was himself consulted, he
should advise her better. He expects her home, from the tenor of her
letters to Mrs. Biron, so perhaps, after all, she may come. If she
does, Bory and I shall prepare a reception for her.

Storer is coming here to dinner. He lives now with Mr. Walpole; has
his lodging at Strawberry Hill, as an antiquarian. March dines here
also. There are to be two more promenades at Bedford House on a
Monday, and then she (the Duchess) goes to Ouburn (Woburn) for the
rest of the year.

The bank won last night, as Lord Clermont (tells me?), 4,000; that
must have been chiefly of the General; but of the bankers, those who
deal, punt also; so they may have contributed.

At Streatham I shall be within two miles of Gregg, so we shall have
together a great deal of discourse about you. Admiral Biron was the
other day at Castle Howard, and saw little Elizabeth, who was very
well. I like the Admiral much.

P.M. (sic).--Poor Storer is gone away in great dudgeon. March fell
asleep on one side of him, and I on the other, the moment that the
cloth was taken away. He was not last night in the Division, or made
any bargain. He has been all this day at Charles's auction, to
secure for him his books. All his things were upon sale yesterday
and to-day. Some of his books are very scarce and valuable.
I wonder that, knowing himself liable to such an attack, he did not
keep them at Brooks's, where they would have been for ever
unmolested.

Mrs. Elliot is returned from France, and I have seen her in a
vis-a-vis with that idiot Lord Cholm(ondeley); so I suppose that is
to go on as it did.

My servants tell me that Sir J. Irwin sets out for Ireland
to-morrow, but that I believe is not so; I understood him last night
that it would be a month before he went. He said that he should go
no more this Session to the House of Commons. I believe that Mr.
Robinson will find it very difficult to muster so many of his troops
as were assembled there last night, any more this year. It was
insufferably hot and dull.

I wish that Storer would be in humour with them till the Session
was over, and say nothing. If then nothing is done, he may begin his
grumbling. W. K. and John, I take it for granted, report these
things, if they happen to hear of them. He will succeed at last, I
do not doubt; in the meantime, le meilleur parti est de se taire.

Lady Julia, as I understand, is to meet Lady B(etty?) in the
country, and come up with her to town. What a fracas we shall have
when my Lady Dowager arrives; and if she does not, I see no end of
her vexations. The Admiral says that she talks of coming. . . .

(170) The Countess Dowager of Carlisle.



(1781,) June 18, Monday night.--I saw this morning Lady Julia, who
looks very well, and has no brogue. I sat a great while with her and
Lady Betty, and talked over with them our foreign affairs; but no
letter is come from Warner, although a mail is, as I see by the
papers, arrived both from France and from Flanders. The Jamaica
fleet is safe at last, and the Emperor(171) declares Ostende to be a
free port. The two Houses will rise yet this month, and this is all
that I know of public matters.

Charles, from paying his debts, proceeds to make presents; he is now
quite magnifique avec une abondance de richesses. Varey dined with
me to-day, Storer, and Lord Carmarthaen.

I have now settled with my servants to go to Streatham on a Saturday
after Mie Mie's dancing, and to stay there till Tuesday noon, and
this every week, during the time that I shall stay in this part of
the world; and if I can get no one else to be with me on those days,
I shall take Lobort(?), which will be a benefit to Mie Mie.

The Duke of Gloucester is returned from Bruges, where he passed two
days with the Emperor. What object there was in this expedition
besides that of seeing the Emperor, I do not know. But a cat looking
on a king, could not, in all probability, have more innocent
consequences. Malden, I suppose, is come back with him, as his
conferences with his Imperial Majesty could not be more interesting,
after his R(oyal) H(ighness) was gone.

Lord Cornwallis's letter to Mr. Webster's father on the death of his
son est tres touchante. The town empties extremely. I reckon my stay
to be from this time about five weeks. Belgiosioso told me last
night that he had had letters from Milan, by which he was informed
that the M. Fagnani was gone quite mad. He has been stone blind a
considerable time, and I take for granted both these misfortunes are
come from the same cause, that is, mercury. His experiments to ease
the one probably occasioned the other. I never hear one syllable
from any of the family; I hope in God that I never shall, or poor
Mie Mie either. It grows every day less likely, and yet when I am
out of spirits that Dragon, among others, comes across me and
distresses me; and the thought of what must happen to that child, if
I am not alive to protect her. You will not wonder then, that I am
afraid of being left to my own reflections: elles sont quelque fois
fort tristes. Clubs are better for dissipation than consultation;
all which being considered makes me wish myself not alone, or so
much in public. But to find a person who really interests themselves
{sic} about you, and is able and willing to give you such advice as
applies immediately to your case, is of all things in the world most
difficult to meet with, but the most comfortable when you do, and is
the utmost service which I ever expect from anybody in this world,
and yet what I despair of finding, in the circle in which I move. I
will not fatigue you with any more bavardise. Remember me most
kindly to Lady Carlisle and my cordial love to all the children, and
pray let me know how my dear little George goes on.

(171) Joseph II., Emperor of Germany; he died in 1790. In 1781 he
had declared the Barrier Treaty no longer binding. See his
character, Lecky, "History of England," vol. v. p. 218.


(1781,) June 19, Tuesday.--Last night I went, when I came from
airing, to White's, where I stayed in the Chocolate Room till I went
home to bed, that is till 12--Lord Ashburnham, Williams, and I
--hearing Lord Malden's account of the Emperor, and of the manner of
his living, and travelling, and behaving. It was very amusing and
circumstantial. He is really a great prince dans tous les sens, and
by Lord M(alden's) account a sensible man, with a very amiable
address and behaviour.

He talked of the excessive gaming here, and of Charles Fox, and he
spoke of him not in terms of very high esteem. Speaking of his
talents and oratory, he said, "Il suffit qu'il dite (dise?) des
injures"

What of business there was passed between his R(oyal) H(ighness) and
the Emperor; Malden was not of that Cabinet. I suppose nothing
essential is as yet concluded between them. He promised the Princess
Sophia, when he took leave of her, that he should certainly be
returned on Sunday, and kept his word very punctually; so something
may transpire through her R(oyal) H(ighness's) channel.

While I was hearing these things, I was called into the vestibule by
Gregg, who communicated to me your letter, which corresponded with
the last which I received from you. It is a pity that Warner should
not know your just idea of what is right or wrong. I am and shall be
very uneasy till I hear from him.

I observed, in your letter to Gregg, that you press him to solicit
the payment of the arrears from Charles. I had mentioned it in mine
to you, as you will find in a few days. But you will not be
surprised at anything which that boy does; you must know not half an
hour before Fawkener said that he left Charles a loser (of) 5,000 to
General Smith at picquet, and (he) was then playing with him 100
pounds a game.

I go to-night with Mie Mie to the Opera in Lady Townshend's box, to
see this famous dance of Medea and Jason. The girl had not in her
head to go this year any more to the Opera, but Lady Townshend made
this party. It will be etouffante; Vestris, it is said, dances for
the last time.

The Emp(eror), I forgot to tell you, said that he had now in his
pay, and ready for service, 300,000 men and 40,000 horse. I have
heard before the same thing. He is attentive to the greatest detail;
he travels and lives in journeys, and at such places as Bruges and
Ghent, with the utmost temperance and simplicity. He refuses
audiences to no one individual, [so] that he is occupied with that
and his reviews from very early in the morning till it is dark. He
speaks French without the least accent whatsoever. He has a dark
complexion, bazane, but very lively eyes, and fine teeth, and a most
manly carriage, with great affability. We all went home to bed in
admiration of this Emperor.

He received a letter from Belgioso while the Duke of Gloucester
was there. I have no doubt but what passes at Brooks's makes part of
the despatch. He reads all our papers in English, so I asked Lord
Malden if he said anything of my jokes, and was mortified to find
that they had escaped his Imp[erial] Majesty's observations. But he
has read some of them, sans doute, so I may have the same vanity as
poor Dick Edgcumbe had, of thinking that the Emperor of
Constantinople had from the windows of his seraglio heard him play
upon the kettle drums.

I heard no more of an approaching Peace. Dr. Gemm assures me that
the French will make no overtures towards it, and that we must ask
it ourselves. The Emperor does not seem to be of opinion that we
shall subdue our Colonies, but thinks our cause a just one. He does
not seem favourable to the French, or to like his sister the French
Queen. He said one day, que la bongress(?) ma soeur aime la France;
that, if she does, deserves another reflection; his is not a just
one; elle aime les dames francoises, cela n'est pas a douter. La
Princesse de Carignan et Me. de Polignac en sont temoins.

Gregg has been here for (a) quarter of an hour; he came to desire
that I would meet Lord Ravensworth at dinner at his house next
Sunday. It is the day I go to Streatham. I have told you that I have
now fixed to be there from Saturday till Tuesday m(orning) each week
during my lease. I asked Gregg when he went into the North; he has
fixed no time. I asked him if he went alone; he said yes. It is an
idea of mine that he would not dislike the carrying Mrs. Gregg and
his daughter with him, if while he went into Cumberland he had your
permission to leave them at Castle Howard. I have thought it proper
to hint this to you, because, if you cho(o)se to make him that
offer, you may. He does not expect it; and I do assure you that I
will not say one single word to him to let him understand that I had
mentioned (it). I do not, indeed, believe that he would like that I
should; so whatever you do, I beg not to be committed.

I believe that I shall take it upon myself to speak to Charles about
these arrears, for he has that good humour in his composition, that
he never takes anything amiss that I say to him, and I am sometimes
very free in telling him how opposite my sentiments are to him, and
to his conduct. I should rather say to his conduct, for, personally,
I love him, as he would have had no doubt, if he had been like other
reasonable people; car avec les defauts les plus insignes il y a
quelque fois un brin de raison dans la pluspart des hommes; mais en
lui, ce qui est defectueux, l'est radicalement. He has adopted it
with so much earnestness that there is no room for reproof or hope
of correction.


(1781,) June 22, Friday.--I must begin my letter of to-day by
contradicting the piece of intelligence with which I concluded my
last. I went to Lady Betty's yesterday after dinner, who was gone
with Mr. Delme to Bray, till Wednesday. I saw your porter, who is
established there, and he told me that no letter from abroad was
come; so this came from the vague report of servants who never
comprehend truth, or tell it.

I went to White's, and there met with Lord Loughborough, who goes
the Oxford Circuit. He finishes at Stafford, and from thence goes to
Ireland. He desired me to go upstairs into the supper room with him,
to which I had consented, but Williams and Lord Ashburnham,(172) and
he and I assembled around the cold stove, till the supper was
forgot, and I fell asleep.

I walked home, but called in at Brooks's as I passed by; Hare in the
chair; the General chief punter, who lost a 1,000 pounds. The bank
concluded early a winner, 12 or 1300. Charles, de cote ou d'autre,
told me that he had won 900. I said that I was informed from the
Emperor that he had lost lately 8,000. He said, in two days, at
various sports. I hinted to him that I had a suit to prefer. He
guessed what it was, and begged that I would not just then speak to
him about money. He was in the right. I meant to have dunned him for
yours.

I told him that I had been reading his character in the Public
Advertiser. The writer says that his figure is squalid and
disagreeable. I told him that my opinion coincided with half of that
account, that he was undoubtedly squalid, but if by his figure was
meant, as in French, his countenance, it was not a true picture. He
said he never cared what was said of his person. If he was
represented ugly, and was not so, those who knew him would do him
justice, and he did not care for what he passed in that respect with
those who did not. The qu'en dira-t-on? he certainly holds very
cheap, but he did (not?) explain to me exactly to what extent
proceeded his indifference towards it. I then went home.

To-day we have a late day in the House, but I shall go and dine
first at Lord Ashburnham's in the King's Road, and to-morrow to my
villa at Streatham. I have bought Johnson's Lives of the Poets,(173)
and repent of it already; but I have read but one, which is Prior's.
There are few anecdotes, and those not well authenticated; his
criticisms on his poems, false and absurd, and the prettiest things
which he has wrote passed over in silence. I told Lord
Loughborough(174) what I thought of it, and he had made the same
remarks. But he says that I had begun with the life the worst wrote
of them all.

Charles was yesterday very abusive upon Johns(t)on.(175) Lord
N(orth) said in his reply that the gentleman was at a great
distance; that if he had been on the spot, he would have given him
as good an answer then as he had done on other occasions. We shall
sit, I believe, till about the 11th of next month. John says, in
regard to the East India business, we are now all afloat. It is a
recommencer. I should, if I was the Minister, put (it?) into his
hands for dispatch.

Mr. Raikes has sent to me this morning to know how George does. I
sent him word that he was very well, that I heard from him, and that
he had particularly desired to be remembered to him.

(173) The first hvraison was published in 1779; Johnson completed
the work in 1781.

(174) Alexander Wedderburn (1733-1805). He was appointed
Solicitor-General in 1771 and Attorney-General in 1778. He was
created a peer as Lord Loughborough on his appointment as Chief
Justice of the Common Pleas. In 1793 he reached the Woolsack, and in
1801 was created Earl of Rosslyn. Beginning political life as a
Tory, he presently became a Whig and an opponent to Lord North; then
he took office under him. A member of the Coalition Cabinet of Fox
and North on its fall he became leader of the Whigs in the House of
Lords, only to conclude his official life as Lord Chancellor in
Pitt's administration.

(175) George Johnston (1730-1787), sometimes called "Governor"
Johnston; a naval officer. He became Governor of West Florida in
1763, in 1768, having returned to England, he became member for
Cockermouth, and in 1778 he was appointed a commissioner to treat
with America, from which, by reason of a partisan letter, he was
obliged to withdraw. In 1779 ne was appointed commodore of a small
fleet. In 1781 he was again returned to Parliament. He was a violent
and self-advertising politician.


1781, Nov. 17, Saturday night.--I do not know how I shall conclude
my letter, but I begin it in no better spirits than I can have, when
I reflect, as I can never help doing, upon a loss which I sustained
this day; it is now thirty years, and which as many more, although
they will certainly annihilate the reflection of, can never repair.
I will not be so unjust to the kindness which I have received from
you and some others as to say that when I lost my father I lost the
only friend I could have, but I most undoubtedly lost the best, and
being to-day where that happened, and more at leisure to recollect
it, je la sens, cette perte, avec la meme vivacite aujourd'hui, que
je ne l'eusse faite que depuis trots jours.

I set my heart therefore particularly on receiving to-day a letter
from you, et la 'voici. It is a great consolation to me, as that it
proves to me, with manifold other arguments, that whatever may be
your occupation, you will find a moment to tell me, what if you did
not I should have not the least doubt of, and that neither business
or distance will deprive me of the place which I have always
maintained in your mind and regard.

But mes jeremiades ne sont pas encore finies. The Castle air, by
which I find the health of the children must be in some measure
affected, and your own to be made a sacrifice to I do not know what,
is to me a great grievance, and one to which I know as yet no
remedy. The only one is to return here, and the sooner you do the
better, and the happier we shall both be, I am sure.

Ce retardement de la poste, aussi, si cela n'est pas un malheur
excessif, il ne laisse pas d'etre un tres grand inconvenient; and I
have only to comfort myself that when it was the most necessary to
the ease of your life to have my letters come to you more exactly,
that is, when the poor boy was so il|, that then they came with more
expedition, et qu'alors et les courriers et les vents aient eu
egalement compassion de ce que vous avez senti a cette occasion.
. . .

Gregg is to go to Neasdon to-morrow from Mitcham; he has dined here
once; when his business will permit it I shall see him again. I have
already hinted to him what you have desired as to his account. He
desires it as a satisfaction to himself as well as to you. Delme
does not please him by his conduct in any manner, and I think that
he will, if he undertakes anything for him, do it more to oblige you
than for any other reason.

I am very sorry to hear such an account of the affairs of that
family, and of so little disposition to do what is necessary to set
them to rights. If the estate and the resources were forty times
what they are, such dissipation and want of management must undo
them.

I am very glad that Storer is coming, and when he does I hope that
he will come and attend with better grace that that has been done,
which has been done (sic) for him. But the point of the cause to
which he is to advert, and the only one, is the part which you have
acted by him, and the benefit which will accrue to him from it. He
has, when he reflects, a great deal of sense, and his heart is very
good; therefore I look upon his present humour to be rather un
effervescence than the result of much reflection.

The town is at this moment, as much as I can judge of it, as great a
solitude as it has been at any time these two months past. But we
are at the even of beaucoup de tintarparre, comme de nouvelles. Lord
Cornwallis's situation is as critical, both for himself and for this
country, as any can possibly be; and if George, in his History of
Greece, and of Nicaeas in the expedition to Syracuse, can find a
parallel for it, I cannot; no more than a remedy, or a reparation
for all the losses which we have and must sustain, if we are not
successful. Till I see the issue of this cast, I will not conclude,
what the Duc de Chatelet told me to be true, that it is une cause
perdue.

I will take the first opportunity of speaking to Gregg about your
not writing to him, for he has been waiting for a letter from you,
with unusual impatience, and I will write to Boothby if he does not
in a few days return to town. I was with Ekins last night, and I
stayed with him till ten. He is more crippled than I ever knew him
to be. He is going to change his house, from which change, as of
posture, he derives some comfort. It matters little from what
hope(s) we derive comfort while we hope them.

Lady Mary H(oward) is very angry with me, as Lady Townshend assures
me, for not having been near her. The truth is, that when I carried
George to wait on her the day that he was in town, before his going
to school, her room was quite insupportable, and for that reason I
could not allow him safely to stay there.

Mr. Walpole, more defait, more perdus de ses membres, than I ever
yet saw any poor wretch, is gone to-night to the play-house, to see
the Tragedy of Narbonne. The gout may put what shackles it pleases
on some people; on les rompt, et la vanite l'emporte. He seems as
able to act a part in the drama as to assist at the performance of
it.

Poor Barker has lost all the hopes which he ever had of resource.
His uncle, from whom he had great and reasonable expectations
formerly, is dead at Constantinople, and without a groat. He has
now, poor man, pour tout potage, Lady Harrington's dinner and
compassion, and the one is as late and uncertain as the other. If
his own relation, with his enormous wealth, and after such
unexpected and unmerited good fortune, does not assist him, he will
for ever pass with me for a man destitue de sentimens comme de
principes. But, perhaps, not knowing more than I do of the
connection and of the persons, my judgment may be severe and unjust.

My dear Lord, to what an unreasonable length have I spun out this
letter. But from my disposition of mind to-day, and being alone, or
en famille only, I did not think that I should be very concise. To
my own tristes you have added more, and the account(s) which I have
of your health, and of what it may be, and of the Castle air, &c.,
do by no means aid me on this occasion. I will fairly own to you,
that, a quelque prise que ce soit, I wish this administration of
yours in Ireland was at an end; and if no other ever began, I should
be as well contented, unless, what is impossible, it could be exempt
from those solicitudes which do not seem in any degree to be
suitable to your constitution. However, it will be not what I think
or feel which must determine that question. I am only sorry that
whatever be the burthen, I can take no part of it, for you, on my
own shoulders. You have given me one occupation,(176) and for that I
am much obliged, because, while no adverse accident happens, it will
be one of the pleasures of my life, and not an inconsiderable one
neither, and will, I hope, be one of those indisputable marks of
affection with which I am, ever have been, and shall remain your(s).
My best and most cordial respects to Lady C(arlisle) and my love to
the children, and my compliments besides to whom you please.

(176) Probably to look after Lord Morpeth during his father's
absence in Ireland.


(1781, Nov.?) 27 (26?), Monday night.--Storer came to town this
morning, as he proposes to tell you to-night; he dined with me. I
met him first in the street, as I was returning from Lincoln's Inn.
He had been, as he was engaged to do, to Lord Loughborough, to whom
he had made a promise of going on his arrival. Neither the air or
the bonne chere of the Castle have (has) done him any harm; il a
bonne mine. He has left me to go to Brooks's, and perhaps to the
Cockpit(177); but as that is a compliment to the Minister rather
than as a support of Government, he shewed no great empressement;
nor could I inspire him with a zeal which I have not myself. I am
not a solicitor of any future benefit from those who are in power,
and when I require no more than common civility, they must not be
surprised, if I [do] not pay what I do not receive.

We have had a blow, for the cause is a common (one). This surrender
of Lord Cornwallis (178) seems to have put le comble a nos
disgraces. What has been said about it, either at White's or parmi
les Grenouilles at Brooks's, I know not.(179) I have not been out
but for an hour before dinner to Mr. Woodcock. I received the first
news of this yesterday from Williams, who dined with me, but you may
be sure it was a subject he did not like to dwell upon, and I chose
to talk with him rather of old than of modern times, because of them
we may be agreed; of the present, whatever we think, we should talk
and differ in discourse widely.

This evening I have had your letter of the 20th. I am diverted with
your account of my two Irish friends. They are so completely of that
cast, that I cannot but imagine that they meant to be of your side.
Richards was sent away quickly for that purpose by my Lord
Chamberlain, as my Lord told me. The other I have but a slight
acquaintance with. I only guessed, as he desired a letter of
introduction to you, that he meant to profess, by that, attachment.
I had no doubt that in neither the one (n)or the other it was
disinterested, but I own that I was so far their dupe that I
imagined that they would not begin with opposition. Kingsman['s]
proposal of being your private Secretary, without a previous
acquaintance, seems to be an idea quite new; what crotchet the Beau
Richard has got in his head the Lord knows.

Storer has drawn to me a very pleasing picture of your present
situation, satisfaction, and domestic felicity. All that gives me
pleasure enough, as you may imagine; but when he talks to me of the
length of time that you may stay, and the probability of it, I am au
desespoir. I see myself deprived of my best resource for the passing
of my life agreeably, when the greatest part of it is already gone.
If I dwelt on this long I should be desole. I will there (fore)
endeavour to think only of what is a consolation to me, that you are
all well--en bonne odeur--that it is the beginning perhaps of a very
career--that I may see some part of it--that I have little George
here from time to time, and the pleasure of looking after him, and
as I hope to your and to Lady Carlisle's satisfaction. You think, I
am afraid, that I nurse him too much. . . .

(177) The Treasury was on the site of the Whitehall  Cockpit, which
had been placed there by Henry VIII. It was converted into offices
for the Privy Council in 1697. The Ministerial meetings being held
there, the word, in political slang, was used for a meeting either
of Ministerialists or the Opposition.

(178) The  news  of the  surrender  of   Cornwallis   at   Yorktown
on October 17,  1781, was received in London on November 25th.

(179) See letter from Storer, November 26th, below.


Storer as usual supplemented his friend's letter by the following
note:

Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle.

1781, Nov. 26, Monday.--I arrived in town this morning, time enough
to do all in my power to send to Gregg, to try if I can get a
qualification to take my seat to-morrow. My qualifications have been
always embarrassing to me. I have too attended the Cockpit to-night,
where there were a great many long faces. What we are to do after
Lord Cornwallis' catastrophe, God knows, or how anybody can think
there is the least glimmering of hope for this nation surpasses my
comprehension. What a stroke it is! but it still seems determined to
pursue the game, though we throw nothing but crabs. . . .

Selwyn meant to treat you to-morrow with a Georgic, Everybody that I
meet seem(s) to think that you did right in dispatching Mr. Flood. I
am so loaded with questions about Ireland, that I have no time as
yet to make any myself about England. Indeed, the attention of
everyone is confined to our situation in America. The Speech from
the Throne contains the same resolution which appeared in times when
we seemed to have a more favourable prospect of success, of
continuing the war, and of claiming the aid of Parliament to support
the rights of Great Britain. Charles has a Cockpit to-night, as well
as Lord North. The blue and buff Junto meet in St. James' Street to
fix upon their plan of operations for to-morrow.

With regard to private news, I find Lady Worsley is run away from
Sir Richard, and taken refuge with some gentleman whose name I do
not know in the army. I must go and pay my respects to my father.


Parliament opened under the shadow of the disasters in America on
November 27th. The Speech from the Throne showed no appreciation of
the gravity of the national situation, and the policy of the
Government was at once challenged by Fox, who moved, an amendment to
the Address. It was negatived, however, by 218 to 129 votes. The
House of Commons though it supported the Minister was conscious of
the folly of his policy, and on the following day the Opposition
again challenged the Government on the Report of the Address. The
result was again a defeat--more nominal than real--of the Opposition
by 131 votes to 54. Two days later (November 30th) on the motion
that the House should go into Committee of Supply, Mr. Thomas Pitt
(afterwards Lord Camelford) the uncle of William Pitt, who from
character and position carried great weight, rose to object to the
Speaker leaving the chair. In other words, he moved a vote of want
of confidence in the Government. The House again supported Lord
North by their votes, though the impossibility of continuing the
ministerial policy was obvious to all. "If measures and conduct are
not to be changed we are completely undone," wrote Selwyn in the
beginning of December--but he had no idea of supporting his opinion
by his vote: there were many others who thought and acted as he did.


(1781, Nov.) 28, Wednesday.--It is you see with me, that I address
you, veniente die comme decedente. I sent you some account of the
H(ouse) of Commons last night before the division; we were about 89
majority. I got home between two and three. I can no more go to
Brooks's to hear a rechauffe of these things, or assist at the
incense offered to Charles, or his benediction and salut to those he
protects. The reserve at White's tempts me as little, and so I think
my own pillow the best resource after these long days.

Young Mr. York brought me home, who commended your Speech, and the
manner in which you spoke it. He was present.

The terms of the Capitulation are now come, and everything known
which has happened, and in a few days more everybody will be as
indifferent as ever, except in their political language, about
[what] will happen.

I spoke to Keene about Richard's conduct; he laughed, and well he
might he said, Poor Beau! he does not mean to oppose; it was only in
that instance where the Sugar Islands were concerned, that he
dissented, and there he was by his property personally interested;
well then, for this time passe, as private motives must and will
ever supersede public considerations; so on that ground, et pour le
coup, he is excusable. But when Lord Hertford would not admit of his
staying one day at Rayley with his son, to shoot, lest he should not
be in time to give you the fullest assistance and concurrence
possible in all your measures; this deviation could not but make me
smile, as well as his friend Mr. Keene.

As to the other, he is a puppy du premier chef. I could not refuse
to his solicitation a letter of introduction, he himself being a
Member, and having a brother-in-law also in the House. But I could
not doubt neither from his discourse but he meant to support you;
and although I must have known that it was an interested motive
which actuated him, that matter I left for your consideration. His
father I knew well, God knows, and every step which I take in this
House reminds me of him, malheureusement pour moi, and why I do not
choose to say or to think of, now that he is dead, and is better
judged than by me. However, none of my resentment to him descended
to his son, and when he made himself known to me I was as willing to
receive him as if his father had behaved better towards me.

Gregg and Storer will dine here to-day. Storer says that he wrote to
you last night. What should or could I add to the account which the
papers now give of the debates? Charles is for my part the only one
I can bear to hear, but although it be impossible for him to do
anything but go over and over again the old ground, make the same
philippics, it is entertaining to me, and I can hear him (which is a
singular thing) with the same pleasure and attention as if I gave
ample credit to what he said, with such talents, and with such good
humour, as is at the bottom of all that pretended acrimony. It is as
impossible not to love him, as it is to love his adversary.
The unfeelingness which he applied yesterday to our Master,
characterises much more the Minister. Charles aims sometimes at
humour; he has not an atom of it, or rather it is wit, which is
better, but that is not his talent neither, and they are indeed but
despicable ones in my mind, et de tous les dons de la nature celui
qui est le plus dangereux et le mains utile; but Charles's poignancy
and misapplication of truth, making the most known falsehoods serve
his person (purpose?) better, in all that he is admirable. His
quotations are natural and pleasing and a propos, and if he had any
judgment or conduct, or character, (he) would, and ought to be, the
first man of this country. But that place, I am assured now, is
destined for another. I said in this country, not in Ireland.
Whenever that happens, I do assure you neither Barbados nor any of
the Sugar Colonies shall interfere in my political conduct; but
Barbados (is?) a d'autres, and in a very short time I believe. Now
my next sheet shall be for the evening.

No, I must go on, for here is just come into my room a man in black;
I did not ask him his name. I suppose by his mourning he belongs to
Mr. Fraser. He has brought me your letter to George, which I longed
for. . . .

Wednesday night.--I did not go to-day [to] the House, but there has
been there a rechauffe of yesterday's debate. I hear there has been
a political event. My Lord Advocate's speech has given great
jealousy to Administration. There are now three parties on the Court
side of the House, the King's, Lord North's, and [the] Lord
Advocate's, on which is Rigby and the Chancellor.

The Fish did not vote last night, which he was much impatient to
discover to Charles, with one of his fulsome compliments. Mr. Pitt's
speech to-day has made a great noise.


(1781,) Nov. 30, Friday m(orning).--I have sent my coachman this
morning to Neasdon, with your letter to George, and two or three
ripe pears, which he desired, so that before I seal up this letter,
I shall be able to let you know how he does. I wrote to him to
excuse my not answering his letter, which came to me on Monday, but
I have made him amends by sending him yours. I hear that Lord and
Lady Gower will be in town this evening, so I suppose that they will
go and make him a visit. When any of these are to be paid, I shall
be a candidate for a place in the coach.

The reason why I did not send your letter before was that I have had
no leisure to think of anything but what I would have avoided
thinking of, if I possibly could, but the truth is that I cannot
divert myself of thinking upon what must occupy everybody's mind,
which is, our public calamity and disgrace.(180) They are become too
serious and irretri(ev)able, in my opinion. I have had superadded to
these my own private mortifications, and I will be so frank as to
own I feel them too amids(t) what is of more consequence.

I have also had a great deal of conversation with Storer, have heard
his grievances, and I think that he has had very just cause to
complain, and if I wish or desire him to be pacified, it is not that
I do not think he has had great provocation. But he has taken the
only just and true line of reasoning and acting for him, which is to
do whatever is the most consonant to your plan and idea,
acknowledging as he ought, avowing, and giving me authority also to
say, that he thinks himself obliged to you and to you only for the
situation he has.

To the obligation which you have laid him under, and of which no one
can be more sensible, Lord North might have added one of his own,
which was, to have done what you required, and had a right to
require, de bon coeur, with a good grace. Instead of that, he has
permitted a little attorney,(181) upon whose good judgment and
liberality he reposes for all the great conduct of his
Administration, to job away from Storer and Sir Adam Ferguson half a
year's salary, in order to put one quarter more into the pocket of
Lord Walsingham, who had the pride, acquired by his title, of
disdaining to be in a new patent, and so pressing that the old might
not expire till he had received 200 pounds more salary.

Mr. Robinson intended to have come to me on Sunday to speak upon
this subject, as if it concerned me, before I had seen Storer, or
knew what he authorised me to say, forgetting all his own
impertinent behaviour towards myself. It is the true picture of an
indolent, selfish Minister, and of a low Secretary.

March dined at my house with Greg and Warner; he had them all to
dispute with, so I had few words to say. But without knowing one
syllable of the story, and from mere contradiction, he supported the
Secretary in his conduct, that is, he took that line as his
advocate. He will in some instance or other receive the same
treatment, sooner or later, from the same persons, and then what I
would have said the other day will have its force.

I have told you this, that you may know how you stand in the H. of
Commons, and that there no one can pretend to divide with you any
obligation. I have dwelt the more upon it from knowing what language
has been held by Lord N(orth's) toadeaters about Storer. You will
always hear of his acting agreeable to you, and that is what he
ought to do, and what will give to you the weight which is due to
you.

I supped last night at Brooks's with Lord Ossory, and chiefly on his
account. There was a large company besides: the D(ukes) of
Q(ueensberry) and of Devonshire,(182) Percy Windham, Charles Fox,
Hare, Lord Derby, Mr. Gardiner, Richard, Belgiosioso, &c., &c. I
stayed very late with Charles and Ossory, and I liked my evening
very much. A great deal of the political system from Charles, which
he expatiated upon in such a manner as gave me great entertainment,
although, in all things which regard the K(ing) and his Government,
I differed from him toto caelo. Lord D(erby's?) nonsense was the
only drawback upon the rest. He is the most mechant singe I ever
knew.

Hare opened the Pharo Bank in the great room, but had so few and
such poor punters that Charles and Richard was (were) obliged to sit
down from time to time as decoy ducks. The Bank won, as Hare said,
about a hundred, out of which the cards were to be paid. I do not
think that the people who frequent Brooks's will suffer this pillage
another campaign. Trusty was there to go into the chair, when he
should be called upon. I told him that I was extremely sorry that he
had quitted the Corps de Noblesse pour se jetter dans le Commerce;
but it is at present his only resource. I cannot help thinking that,
notwithstanding our late disasters, Bob's(183) political tenants
will be very tardy in remitting him their rents. But between Foley
House, and the run of Mr. Boverie's kitchen, with his own credit at
Brooks's, and his share in and affinity to an opulent Bank, and
flourishing trade, he may find a subsistence.

The D(uche)ss of Marlborough,(184) I hear, is already laying a
scheme for marrying Lord Blandford to a great fortune, so by that
any hopes which I might have had of my dear little Caroline being
Duchess of Marlborough are blasted. I am told, that Miss Child's
alliance is in her Grace's contemplation. I saw Ekins yesterday; he
mends very slowly. Lady Althrop is breeding, Lord Harrington has
another son. Lord Sandwich looks near to death with fatigue and
mortification.

Burke(?) said in the House the other day that he had so little
credit that his evidence was not good even against himself. All this
may be, but he is the last of all his Majesty's Ministers which I
shall give up. He has experience, assiduity, e(t) du zele. Whether
he has blundered or not I cannot tell, or been obliged to adopt the
blunders of others. He has judged right in one thing, if he ever had
it in his head to make a friend of me. For he has been always
extremely civil, and indeed that is not only a sine qua non with me,
but all that I have to ask of any of his Majesty's Ministers, and
that I am intituled to at least.

Now do I wish that my coachman was come back, that I may hear how my
dear little friend is, and at night I will let you know.

(180) See Storer's letter of December 1, below.

(181) John Robinson, Secretary to the Treasury.

(182) William, fifth Duke of Devonshire (1748-1811), married, in
1774, Georgina, daughter of John, Earl Spencer, the well-known
beautiful Duchess of Devonshire; their daughter, Georgina Dorothy,
married George, successor to the fifth Earl of Carlisle.

(183) Lord Robert Spencer?

(184) Caroline, only daughter of John, fourth Duke of Bedford.



Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle.

1781, Dec. 1.--I received your short note with an enclosed letter
for Boothby, which I sent into the country to him. You laugh at me
when you talk about the tears at the Drawing Room. I confess to you
that I left Ireland with a great deal of regret. If you had not
packed me off to Parliament, I suppose that by Christmas I should
almost have thought myself happy to have established myself in
Dublin. There is a great misfortune in your being Lord Lieutenant,
not only to yourself, but to your friends--for en fait des femmes,
you can neither do anything for yourself, nor can you for me; so
that (I) having no confidant but yourself, all my tender messages
are perfectly put a stop to. I hope Trentham has made greater
advances amongst them since I left Ireland than he did whilst I was
there. He takes time to consider and moves but slowly on to the
siege.

During the few days I have been in town, I have had as much of
Parliament, Levee, and Drawing Room as if I had been in Dublin. I
have been nothing but proper things. Lord Loug(h)borough, whom I
called upon, has got the gout; but that is what I need not tell you,
for he said that he should write. We had no Irish conversation, for
the Duke of Queensberry was with me, and we made but a short visit.
I understand from Delmc, who came up the first day of the meeting of
Parliament, that Lady Betty is coming up to town next week to lay
in.

Town is very full, and the Opera is really infinitely better in
every respect than ever I yet saw it or ever expected it to be.
Perhaps coming from what is very bad in Dublin makes me find what
was only moderate before exceedingly good now. The roof of the
theatre has been raised, and the loftiness at present of the house
makes it look really well.

For the same reason it is perhaps that I was so much struck the
first day of Parliament. Charles Fox, who did not speak as well as
he usually does according to the opinion of many, yet in mine was
astonishingly great. I never attended to any speech half so much,
nor ever did I discover such classical passages in any modern
performance. Besides (th)at, I owned, he convinced me.

I wished not to talk to you of political events, but nothing else is
thought of. The events that are passed are not half so melancholy as
the prospect which is looked to. The Supply was opposed by Tho(mas)
Pitt, for the first time since the Revolution, yesterday. I did not
hear Mr. W. Pitt, which I regret very much, as it is said that he
even has surpassed Charles, and greater expectations are formed from
him even than from the other.

There surely must be some change or alteration in Administration.
Lord George Germain seemed to lay a very heavy charge the first day
of the Sessions against Lord Sandwich, but what will come of it, it
is difficult to say. Speculation upon political events, however
justified by seeing what ought to be, is not always to be depended
upon. You can judge better than I can, because you have probably
sure information, and I can only form conclusions by what everyone
sees and knows. From what Lord Germain said, C(harles) Fox told him
that when he impeached Lord Sandwich, he should consider him as a
principal witness.

The most melancholy events are predicted with regard to the W(est)
Indies. Indeed it is true that everything is now at the mercy of the
Enemy, and it is their fault if any possessions whatever, either in
N(orth) America or in the W(est) Indies, remain under the British
Empire. Our affairs in Ireland go on pretty well, and that is the
only place where they do. (The) Lord Advocate made a downright, open
speech, but Lord Geo(rge) did not understand it; though parts of it,
by what the Advocate has said in debate, were most probably levelled
at him.


(1781), Dec. 4, Tuesday morning.--I found, when I came home last
night, this letter from your son, which I enclose. Dr. Ekins shewed
me a letter from him yesterday, which was with less mistakes in the
writing, and was verily (sic) prettily expressed, but it was
shorter. I find my idea of the Provostship will never do. There are
other arrangements for him, and the Provostship, as I hear, will be
given to Dampier, Mr. North's tutor.

Burke's Motion is withdrawn. The Opposition thought this was exactly
the proper moment to increase and inflame the quarrel between us and
the Americans. Unluckily for them, Government is in possession of a
letter from Mr. Laurens,(185) in which he expresses himself
perfectly satisfied with the treatment of him, in all respects; so
this was communicated to Burke. I heard of no other business
yesterday, or of any news, but Lord Cornwallis, it is said, goes to
Paris. I do not envy him the civilities which he will receive there.

Monsieur de Maurepas(186) heard of our defeat just before he died,
and expired with a line of Mitridate in his mouth, which sounded as
well I suppose as a Nuncdimittis, and was as sincere:

Mes demurs regards ont vu fuir les Remains.

An old coxcomb! I wish that I could live to see our hands trempes
dans le sang odieux de cette nation infernale, rather than our
petits maitres here, in Caca du Dauphin, Boue de Paris, Bile
repandue du Comte d'Artois, ou vomis (sic) de la Reine. Ce sont les
couleurs les plus a la mode, et pour le Carnaval qui vient.

Lord Loughborough has the gout, and is confined to his bed. To-day I
have all the Townshends and Brodericks to dine here, and Mie Mie
goes after dinner to the Opera with Lady Payne, so I must be dressed
to be her beau, which, if it was not for the pleasure of being
assistant to her, would be souffrir le martyre.

We shall adjourn next week, I believe, till after the Queen's
birthday. There was a talk yesterday of changes in the Admiralty,
but without foundation. Lord Lisbourne, who dined with us yesterday
at Lord Ashburnham's, did not seem to think that there would be a
change of any sort. I hope he means as to men then only; for if
measures and conduct are not to be changed we are completely undone,
supposing anything of that now left to do.

The Duke of Newcastle's youngest son is at Lisbon for his health,
and not likely to live. What is become, or will become, of his
eldest God knows. His Grace's pride has settled everything upon Sir
H(enry) Clinton, for the sake of the name, and Oatlands is to be
sold and no vestiges left, of his infinite obligations either to
Lord Torrington or to the Pelhams. He is 200,000 pounds in debt, and
will, if Lord Lincoln marries, of which nobody doubts, have probably
6,000 pounds a year to pay in jointures to Lady Harrington, and Lady
Hertford's daughters, and when this and the usual charge upon the
maintenance of great houses is defrayed, he will leave nothing to
Sir Henry but the expense of his own monument. He is a complete
wretch, and no one ever deserved more to be so.

(185) Henry Laurens (1723-1783), President of the American Congress
in 1777; he resigned in 1778, and was appointed Ambassador to
Holland, but was captured by the English at sea and imprisoned in
the Tower. After his release he was sent by Washington to Paris to
negotiate for a new loan, and in 1783 he signed there the
preliminaries of peace with Franklin, Adams, and Jay.

(186) Jean Frederic Phe'lippeaux, Comte de Maurepas (1701-1781),
Minister of Marine under Louis XV., but banished through the
influence of Mme. de Pompadour; recalled by Louis XVI., he was made
first minister, and though himself more courtier than statesman,
succeeded in his policy of the recognition of the United States, and
brought into the Ministry such men as Turgot, Malesherbes, and
Necker.


Earlier in this year Walpole had written to Sir Horace Mann: "Mr.
Fox is the first figure in all the places I have mentioned, the hero
in Parliament, at the gaming table, at Newmarket." The sentence with
which Selwyn, half angry and half amused, concludes the last letter
of 1781, emphasises the extraordinary and commanding position which
Fox held at this critical moment in the House of Commons.


(1781,) Christmas Day, Tuesday m.--. . . . I dined yesterday at Lady
Lucan's. The dinner was at first designed for George and Mie Mie,
but upon my explaining myself to Lady Lucan concerning that [his
objection to their dining out late], this dinner took another turn,
and was at their usual hour; so instead of them, I met Lady
Clermont, Sir R. and Lady Payne, Mr. Walpole, and Mr. Gibbon.(187)
There were a few at Brooks's, and Hare in the chair to keep up the
appearance of a pharo bank, but nobody to punt but the Duke of
Rutland and Fish Craufurd. Charles, or Richard, if he is there,
never fail(s); and at their own bank they will lose a thousand in
one deal, and win them back in the other; but Richard, as I was
told, lost tout de bon 7,000, the other night, to this bank, in
which Hare and Lord Robert have a twelfth. The whole manoeuvre,
added to their patriotism, their politics, &c., &c., are incredible.

I am going to dine to-day at Delme's; he
has promised me some plum porridge. His son is to dine here with
George. Lady B(etty) brings him at half-hour after two. On Friday I
dine at Keene's, and in the evening George and Mie Mie come, and
George may renew his addresses to the young lady. Lady Lucan desires
that we should choose King and Queen at her house. I have myself no
objection to anything but the dinner abroad,

Tuesday night.--No letter come. At Delme's the D(uke) of
Q(ueensberry), Storer, Hanger, and G. Fitzwilliams, Lady Ann, and
the family. . . . Hare holding the Bank. The punters are, Charles,
par interet, Fish Craufurd, par complaisance, and the D. of R., par
betise. Storer's patent is at last passed,(188) as Gibbon tells me.
I hear no more; it is likely, for this next week, to be a great
dearth of news. For be the West India Islands taken, or secured, it
will be no matter I suppose of concern till Charles has made a
speech about them.

(187) The historian (1737-1794).

(188) See note (99).


How close were the ties of friendship which united Selwyn with
Storer and Hare has been told at the beginning of this volume: the
following letter will add to the picture of the group of friends and
of the diversions of London society at this moment.


James Hare to Lord Carlisle.

(1781,) Dec. 29.--I stayed at Foxley till the middle of October, and
then came to Town, where, for want of other amusement I chose to
take the diversion of Hazard at the House in Pall Mall, and lost
near 4,000 pounds in three nights to a set of fellows whom I never
saw before, and have never seen since. Though it has generally
happened to me to begin the winter without a guinea, I did not make
up my mind to it this year so easily as I have done formerly,
because I knew that I deserved to be poor for having been fool
enough to lose my money at Hazard instead of saving it for Pharaoh.

Richard played at the same place, and lost 8,000 gs., which he paid
immediately, though he had declared to me a few days before that he
had not a quarter of that sum in the world; but you know how to
estimate his veracity on these subjects as well as anybody.

Charles, in the October meetings, lost about 10,000, the greatest
part of it on Races, and the rest to General Smith at picquet. The
general opinion was, that Charles was extremely partial to horses of
his own confederacy; this he denies, and of course is angry to hear
suspected, but you and I shall not be very backward to believe it to
have been the case.

Most of the joint annuitants agreed to a proposal made to them by
Richard and Charles, viz., to receive 6,000 immediately, and the
remainder by instalments in three years. One of them refused to
accept this proposal, and seized soon after the meeting four of
Charles's horses, which were of trifling value, and therefore bought
in again at a small expense by Derby, in whose name they now stand;
whether some time or other his protection may not be insufficient, I
shall not pretend to say, but it is not quite out of the reach of
possibility.

Thus, you see, the Bankers did not meet at the beginning of the
winter in the same opulent circumstances as they had parted in at
the end of the last campaign. Lord Robert and I proposed to have our
share increased from a twelfth to an eighth. Charles consented, but
Richard refused, and we remain on our former footeign (sic). The
Bank has already won considerably, and would probably have done
still better if money was not very scarce, as most of the punters
retain their passion without the means of gratifying it.

You will be surprised when I tell you that Richard is our most
valuable punter, and has lost this year full as much as his share of
the winnings of the Bank; and as he would not agree to my having a
larger share, I have no great remorse in taking his money. Last
night he lost 3,000 pounds, and Charles above 5,000; all the other
players won something, but not a sum at all equal to our partner's
losses. Pray do not mention this, unless you hear it from some other
person, as probably you will.

The club at Brookes's is very ill attended, and Brookes enraged to
the last degree that gentlemen should presume to think of anything
but making his fortune. He complained to Charles that there was
17,000 pounds owing to the house, which is a most impudent lie; and
even if it were true he would have no reason to complain of the
balance, as he has 15,000 belonging to the proprietors of the Bank
in his hands, for which he pays no interest, though he receives at
least 5 per cent, for all money owing to him.

There are two Clubs lately formed, both consisting of young men, and
chiefly of different parties in politics. Goostree's(189) is a small
society of young men in Opposition, and they are very nice in their
admissions; as they discourage gaming as much as possible, their
Club will not do any harm to Brookes's, and probably not subsist a
great while; it seems to be formed on the model of the celebrated
Tuesday Night Club. The other is at Welche's,(190) in St. James's
Street, consisting of young men who belong to Government; and poor
John St. John, whose age and zeal for Government particularly
qualify him to be a member, has hitherto met with objections on the
ballot, which I hope will be withdrawn on another trial of his
interest, and that the Town will have the advantage of his
management at the next Masquerade, which that Club is to give after
Xmas.

 Boothby has just told me that James finds himself in such bad
circumstances that he is obliged to sell all his horses, and give up
hunting entirely; but as James is in Town, and has not said one word
to me about it, I am in hopes that it is not exactly so: the Prince
is rather a dark painter, and fond of placing the principal figure
in the shade. The Prince himself, I am afraid, is rather distressed,
as he never games, and it is observed invidiously enough by people
who do not love him, that he must be poor, as he has grown so much
more agreeable than he used to be.

Crawford was giving himself great airs the other day on having taken
Longchamp, the man who keeps the rooms at Newmarket, into his
service as cook, but on enquiry it appeared that he had taken one of
his brothers: the Fish was unspeakably mortified to find that his
cook was not a man of so great celebrity as he had imagined, and
gave his first dinner yesterday with a determination to condemn the
cook's performance, whether good or bad. I am very ill qualified to
tell you the scandalous history of fine ladies, not having been at
one assembly this winter. . . .

Lord Salisbury sacrifices his whole time and fortune to
Hertfordshire popularity, and six years hence may perhaps reap the
reward of his labours by bringing in a Member for the county, after
an expensive contest. . . .

Lord Morpeth looks remarkably well: I hope George's fondness will
not spoil him, for he is the prettiest boy I ever saw.

(189) See letter of Feb. 19, 1782: "Young Pitt has formed a society
of young Ministers, . . ." and note (204).

(190) See letter of Feb. 19, 1782 below: "Weltie's Club is going to
give a masquerade . . ." and note (203).





CHAPTER 5. 1782. THE FALL OF LORD NORTH.

Fox's political principles--The fifth Duke of Bedford--A little
dinner--A debate in the Commons--The attack on Lord George Germaine
--Beckford--An evening at Brooks's--Pitt and his friends--Possible
changes in the Cabinet--Faro at White's--A story of the Duke of
Richmond--An address to the King--A levee--Play and politics at
Brooks's--Government and the Opposition--Selwyn and his offices--The
position of the King--Fears of change of administration--The King's
objections to Fox--Probable debates--Political prospects--Debates
and divisions--The fate of the King's friends--Illness of Lord
Morpeth--Annoyance of Selwyn at the state of affairs--Fox and
Selwyn--Fall of Lord North--A new Ministry--Official changes--Fox
and Carlisle--Carlisle's position--Morpeth and Mie Mie.

"The year 1782 is memorable for the fall of Lord
North. It was more than the end of a Ministry, to a great extent it
was the end of the system of personal government by the sovereign."
"The King," wrote Selwyn, on March 27th, "will have no more personal
friends, as Lord Hertford says; there will be no opposition to that
in this new Government, what a cipher his Majesty will be you may
guess." Selwyn had no great respect for the King, and not much
liking for his minister, Lord North. "I see him in no light, but
that of a Minister, and in that I see him full of defects, and of
all men I ever yet sate down to dinner with the most disagreeable.
But he is so, in part from a scholastic, puritanical education, to
which has been superadded the flattery of University parsons, led
captains, and Treasury dependants. Without this, he would have been
a pleasant companion. He has parts, information, and a good share of
real wit, and (is), I believe, not an ill-tempered man by any means.
But with all this, he has un commerce qui me rebute. As to what he
says, or promises, it is sur la foi de Ministre and credat Judeus,
but I never will." (May 15, 1781.)

But like many others Selwyn had grown accustomed to the existing
method of carrying on the government and obtaining majorities in the
House of Commons. He had seen much of political corruption and
official influence, and having no high political standard he had
come to regard the system of George III. and North as normal and
constitutional. He had, too, a fear of a ministry in which Fox and
his friends should take a leading part. In Selwyn's mind Fox was
connected with the wildest gambling and with a carelessness in
regard to monetary obligations which he considered to be almost
criminal. There were many others who shared this opinion: it was one
thing for a gambler to hurry from the card-table in St. James's
Street to the floor of the House of Commons and delight alike
Ministerialists and Opposition by a brilliant attack on the
Government: it was quite another for him to be responsible for the
affairs of the nation. George III. and Lord North were men of
business. Fox was a man of pleasure, and those who were most
intimate with him at the clubs were the last--very often--to desire
to see him a Minister. "From a Pharo table to the headship of the
Exchequer is a transition which appears to me de tenir trop au
Roman, and those who will oppose it the most are those whom he has
been voting with and assisting to ruin this country for the last ten
years at least." Selwyn underrated the need for Fox's great
abilities in office; so powerful a debater could not be used by a
party in opposition only. But he certainly expressed a feeling which
existed in the minds of many.

Selwyn's letters which were written at this crisis give a lively
description of the dismay which the change of Ministry produced
among those who had begun to consider Lord North's Government as a
part of the established order of things. The Court party had hardly
taken the Opposition seriously; there were many who had grown to
suppose that nothing could overturn the individual authority of the
King, and they were puzzled and surprised at the impending changes.

In the first of the following letters there is an account of a
curious academic discussion at Brooks's on the theory of government,
in which Fox took part. Those who listened to him hardly realised
that presently he would be the most important member of a new
government. It would not be easy to find a clearer picture of Fox at
that extraordinary time than is given to us in these letters; the
apprehension and the affection felt by his friends, the contrast
between his social bonhomie and his political fervour is
conspicuously presented. We understand his greatness better when we
see him moving among his contemporaries, good-natured, indifferent
to what was said or thought of him, telling his opinions without
hesitation--a giant among political and intellectual dwarfs.

Again in the midst of the gambling, the supper parties, and the
gaieties of the town, there is the continual sombre shadow of an
important constitutional change--a system and a Cabinet were falling
under the deep resentment of the country. Neither the King, the
Ministry, or its supporters appeared to appreciate that, even in an
age when public opinion was chaotic and often hardly audible, there
must come a time when a day of reckoning was certain for a
Government which had discredited and injured its country.

We see the apprehensions, the personal expectations, the
littlenesses of political society. Then comes the final crash when,
after twelve years of opposition, the Whigs take office, watched
half with fear and half with contempt by those who had been unable
to understand the forces which had produced this inevitable result.


(1782,) Jan. 8, Tuesday.--I did not go to bed this morning till
seven, and got neither drunk, or gamed. The Duke of Rutland,(191)
Charles Fox, Belgiosio (Belgiojoso), Gen. Smith, and I supped at
Brooks's, but it was pure conversation between Charles, the Duke,
and I which lasted so long. Our chief and almost only topic was that
of Government, abstractedly considered, and speculations about what
would be the best for this country; Charles's account of his own
principles in that respect; his persuasion about mine; his Grace's
lessons from Lord Chatham, and commonplace panegyric upon that
unparalleled statesman, and the utility to the public derived from
paying his debts and maintaining his posterity. The principal is,
that hereafter people in employment will be indifferent about the
emoluments of office, persuaded that a grateful country like this
will not suffer the wife and children of great characters to go
unprovided for, or their tradesmen unpaid, and a great deal of this
sublime nonsense.

Charles was infinitely agreeable, or I could not have stayed so
long. A quarrel, he says, had like to have happened at Quinze
between the General and the Fish. The General told the
Ambassador(192)2 how rich he was, and how well the English (meaning,
he said, people of distinction, such as his son) were received both
at Brunswick and at Vienna; lied immoderately about the affairs of
the India Company; and was ten times more at his ease than ever, to
shew Belgiosio that he had the ton de cour. Charles shewed me two of
Brooks's cards; on one he was Dr. 4,400, on another Cr. 11,000
pounds. This was the Rich Bank he belongs to.

(191) Charles, fourth Duke of Rutland, K.G. (1754-1787). He was
Pitt's first Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and died in office at the
opening of a promising political career.

(192) Belgiojoso.


(1782,) Feb. 4, Monday morning.--You will not expect me to give you
so soon any more account of George than I shall have from Sir John
Eden, who intends to go either to-day or to-morrow to Neasdon, and
who will bring me word how he does.

I was at Lord Gower's last night; and I saw there the Duke of
Bedford,(193) who, I must own, surprised me by his figure, beyond
measure; his long, lank, black hair, covering his face, shoulders,
back, neck, and everything, disguised him so that I have yet to know
his figure; I can but guess at his person. Why this singularity at
17 years of age? cela n'indique pas un esprit solide.

They saw the astonishment which this exhibition created in me, and
Lord Gower laughed, and said, "You perhaps do not know who it is?"
Indeed I did not. Je define seulement que sa figure n'est pas laide.
His chevelure was like that which I see in a picture of the grand
Conde. If there is anything of that hid under this disguise je lui
passerai cette singularity and yet, if your sons or either of them
should have all which Monsieur le Prince possessed, and Colbert too,
I had rather that they would not be singular. It may divert, but can
never add to the respect which they might otherwise have.

I went with Lord Trentham to the Speaker's, and returned to Lord
G(ower), but had no conversation either with him or the Countess.
When they go to Neasdon, I hope that they will carry me with them.
When George meets me, he accosts me with these words, "Quomodo vale
(sic) my petite sodale;" ou il a peche cette plaisanterie I do not
know. His namesake, Lord G. Germain,(194) is to kiss hands this
morning for the title and peerage of Sackville. Drayton, it seems,
goes to the Beauclerks, if he becomes Duke of Dorset and has that
estate.

My dinner yesterday with Fawkener and Warner at Mr. Crespigni's was
a very agreeable one indeed; la chere plutot bonne quexquise;
excellent vin. You will not forget Warner, I hope, when the
opportunity offers, afin qu'il soit dans le cas d'en tirer de sa
propre cave. We generally close the evening around the fire in the
card room at White's, a forte feu de fraix; Williams, Lord
Ashburnham, Vary, Fawkener, etc.; that is, those who either sup,
game, or sit up. The season of all that is over with me, and I have
little inclination left for either of them. I am quite well, vu mon
age, and as likely to see you again as any other who is a
sexagenaire, et meme davantage. It is the chief part of my Litanie.

I talked of Caroline last night with Lady Ann, till I could ask no
more questions about her. I am glad that her dancing is admired. We
have here Mademoiselle Theodore, who takes Mr. Willis'(?) place till
the season is over. She has half a guinea a lesson, but it is to
stay an hour. There is a good account of Johnson's prices, but he
himself is gone to Lisbon to be married; whether that will be a
prize, is a Scavoir. That of the Duke of Newcastle's(195) (sic) is
already condemned, at least by his Grace, but he nuptie sunt vere
nevertheless. Lord Cornwallis is, I believe, going to inhabit my
house till midsummer. That has been a heavy charge upon my hands,
instead of a profit.

(193) Francis Russell, fifth Duke of Bedford (1765-1802)5 succeeded
his grandfather in 1771. He was badly educated, indifferent to
public opinion, liberal and independent in political views, a
consistent follower of Fox. In later life he showed great interest
in the advancement of agriculture, by practice and experiment.

(194) See note (196) to letter of Feb. 8 below.

(195) Thomas, third Duke of Newcastle (1752-1795). He married in
this year, the second daughter of the Earl of Harrington.


We have now nearly reached the climax of the political interest and
excitement which had been growing greater since the memorable
session of 1781 began. To appreciate the letters which follow, it is
necessary to bear in mind some of the main parliamentary incidents
of this particular period. On February 7, 1782, the House of Commons
resolved itself into a Committee to inquire into the present state
of naval affairs. Fox in an elaborate speech reviewed their course
for the preceding five years, and concluded by moving "that there
has been gross mismanagement of the naval affairs of Great Britain
during the course of the year 1781." The supporters of the
Government were as little satisfied with the administration of the
navy as the Opposition, and the debate, which was concluded by
another remarkable speech from Fox, resulted in a virtual defeat of
the Administration. The Opposition were in a minority only of 18
votes. On February 22nd a different ground was chosen by the
Opposition for their attack, General Conway moving an address that
the war in America should no longer be pursued. The noticeable
change in the feeling in the House of Commons, crammed as it was by
place-men, is clearly exemplified by the result of the division. On
this occasion the Government were only able to defeat the Opposition
by one vote, 194 to 193. On February 27th a similar address was
again moved by Conway and an attempt by the Government to adjourn
the debate was defeated by 234 to 215 votes. The address was then
carried without a division. Selwyn looking at events from what was,
politically speaking, a somewhat non-party point of view, is
obviously puzzled as to how the crisis would end. He tells us, too,
of the formation of a group of young politicians under Pitt. He
ascribes to the future Prime Minister the organisation of a party,
though hitherto these meetings at Goosetree's have been regarded
chiefly as social gatherings.

(1782,) Feb. 8, Friday, the Fast Day.--We were not up last night
till near three this morning; our numbers were 205 and 183. Our
majority was but mince, but it was a popular Question, but Lord
Sandwich is not a popular man; but I have lived long enough to have
remembered other ministers less popular, if possible, and who have
been since reverenced, and by the most respectable among those who
had traduced them. Charles made two speeches; the last was much
animated. Admiral Keppell spoke, and so did Sir E. Dering, drunk,
sicut suus mos est; but he says in that ivresse des verites vertes
et piquantes. He is a tiresome noisy fool, and I wish that he never
spoke anywhere but in the House of Commons.

Saturday.--I was prevented from continuing this letter yesterday, by
a visit from Lord Digby, who assured me that to the best of his
judgment you had nothing to fear from that quarter which has now and
then alarmed me not a little. I dined at Lord Ash[burnham's]: Lord
Frederick, Williams, Sir J. Peachy(?) and old(?) Elison. I do not
perceive that Lord Carm(arthen) has got any repu(ta)tion from his
violence against Lord George.(196) The attack surprised, (and) had
not been concerted with anybody; he had revealed his design but to
one, as he said, and that I am told was Lord Pembroke, une tete
digne de cette confidence.

It was a Motion cruel and ill-mannered, and not becoming one man of
quality to another; at the same time an unpardonable insult to the
Crown. Lord de Ferrars, I hear, has found out a precedent for it, as
he thinks, in King James 1st('s) time, but a precedent of what? of
ins(o)lence to the Crown; it was in that reign begun, with impunity.
If there could be any hesitation in this peerage, this motion must
have confirmed it.

Lord Abingdon spoke like a perfect blackguard, and Lord Shellbourne,
in a speech which Lord Cov(entry) calls such a model of perfect
oratory, to exemplify the contempt which the late King had of Lord
George, quoted not only his own words, but imitated his manner--two
of his grand-children, the Princes, in the House. This part of his
speech was a pantomime fitter for the treteaux des boulevards than
for a chamber of Parliament. However, Lord George will take his seat
next week, and what he will do, or be, afterwards, God knows.
Ellis(197) has his place.

Poor General Fraser died of an emetic, which occasioned the bursting
of a vessel. Lord Talbot has had another warning, and so has Lord R.
Bertie, and neither can live long. I was last night at Lady Lucan's,
to see young Beckford,(198) who seems to possess very extraordinary
talents; he is a perfect master of music, but has a voice, either
natural or feigned, of an eunuch. He speaks several languages with
uncommon facility, and well, but has such a mercurial turn, that I
think he may finish his days aux petites maisons; his person and
figure are agreeable. I did not come till late, and till he had
tired himself with all kind of mimicry and performances. The Duchess
of Bedford [was] there, and Lady Clermont. There is a picture
engraving at the man's house in St. James's Street where your
picture is to be engraved. His design is ingenious; it is the story
of Pharaoh's daughter finding Moses in the bullrushes. The Princess
Royal is introduced as Pharaoh's daughter, and all the other ladies,
celebrated for their beauty--the Duchess of Devonshire, Lady Jersey,
etc. etc.; on briguera les places. The portraits will be originals,
and the whole, if well executed, will be a very pretty print. I
would have a pendent to it; and that should be of Pharo's sons,
where might be introduced a great many of our friends, and
acquaintance, from the other side of the Street. I am so taken up
with business this morning, that I did not endeavour to make a party
with Lord Gower to go and see George. Gregg has wrote me word that
he shall ride that way to-morrow.

(196) Lord George Sackville Germaine, on his resignation of the
Secretaryship of the Colonies, was, in February, 1782, created a
peer as Viscount Sackville of Drayton Manor, Northampton. Thereupon
the Marquis of Carmarthen brought forward a motion in the House of
Lords that it was derogatory to the honour of the House that any
person under the censure of a court martial should be raised to the
Peerage. The motion was defeated, but was repeated on February
18th after Lord Sackville had taken his seat. Though personal in its
form, this was simply a Parliamentary attack on the Ministry and the
Crown. Sackville had at the battle of Minden, in 1759, disobeyed the
orders of Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, the commander-in-Chief, by
refusing to advance with the cavalry. In the following year he was
dismissed by court martial from the army. The use made of an event
more than twenty years old illustrates the temper of the Opposition.
The subject is referred to in a subsequent letter, see p. 198.

(197) Welbore Ellis, appointed Secretary of State for the Colonies
March 8, 1782.

(198) William Beckford (1759-1844), son of the well-known member of
Parliament and Lord Mayor. As a boy of nine, he came into possession
of a property of a million. "Neither his genius nor his fortune
yielded what they would have produced to a wiser and better man.
. . . Hardly any other man has produced such masterpieces with so
little effort." He was the author of "Vathek," an Oriental romance,
and other works. He was an enthusiastic collector, and he made
Fonthill, where he lived in later life in eccentric seclusion, a
complete museum.


(1782,) Feb. 19, Tuesday morning.--I wish that I could repeat and
describe, as well as I can hear and attend to what is said to me,
when people speak sense and to the purpose, and are not trying to
mislead you. When I went to Brooks's it was in search of the
Duke;(199) there I found him at dinner, altercating Lord Sackville's
cause, and Stirling, with Charles, Lord Derby, &c., &c. You may
imagine with what candour and fairness his arguments were received.
I am, it is certain, a friend to him, and not to Charles, but all
partiality or prejudice laid aside, I think my friend as good a
reasoner as the other; but one employs his faculties in the search
of truth, and the other in disguising it and substituting falsehood
in its room, to serve the purpose of Party.

I soon left them and went to White's; I like the society there
better. There was a dinner also for the Lords, and there was Lord
Loughborough, Lord Buckingham, Duke of Dorset, Lord Cov(entry), Lord
Ash(burnham), &c., &c., &c. I stayed with Lord Loughborough, Lord
Ash(burnharn), and Lord Cov(entry) till past two this morning. The
Duke changed his court and came to us, to plead in the common pleas,
but with us there was no dispute. There was one who would have
disputed if he could, which was Cov(entry), but Lord Loughborough
has such a variety of incontestable facts concerning the affair of
Minden, the opinions of foreign officers relative to P(rince)
Ferd(inand's) whole conduct in respect of Lord George, the faction
and partiality and injustice in the proceedings of the court
martial, with so many arguments and precedents against the Question
of yesterday, that poor Cov(entry) had not a word to say but that he
had been soliciting privately--which I do not credit--the Lords in
Opposition not to bring on this question, which at the same time he
rejoiced at. Lord Ash[burnham] is among many others one whom
Cov(entry) is practising constantly his astucity upon, and whom he
thinks that he deceives. I was extremely entertained.

I have no liking and esteem for Lord Sack(ville), or ever had, any
more than acquaintance with him, but from the first to the last I
have believed that he has been sacrificed to the implacable
resentment of P(rince) Ferd(inand), the late Duke of Cumb(erlan)d,
and the late King, helped on by all the private malice and flattery
in the world; and all which I heard last night, of which I cannot
have the least doubt, confirms me in that opinion. I am clear in
nothing concerning his personal merit, or defects, excepting of his
abilities, and when these could be of any use to Party, they were
extolled, and his imperfections forgot. He was invited to take a
share in Government by the people who think, or have pretended to
think, him a disgrace to the peerage.

I am sorry for it, but Lord Carm(arthen)(200) has in all this made
but a miserable figure. I am sorry, from wishing well towards him,
that I had not been apprised of this. I could have assured him of
what even the best of his own party would think of his Motion, after
it was made. I know that Lord Cambden(201) was strongly in his
private opinion against it. [The] Lord Chancellor(202) spoke out I
hear; his speech was admirable, en tous points; and upon the whole,
I believe Lord Sackville to have been infinitely more served than
hurt by this proceeding.

I saw on Brooks's table a letter directed to you from Hare, so I
hope that it was to give you an account of these things, partial or
impartial. I have no doubt but his account will be an amusing one. I
left him in his semicircular nitch at the Pharo table, improving his
fortune every deal. I wish Monsieur Mercier would come here and
write a Tableau de Londres as he has that of Paris, and that he
would take for his work some anecdotes with which I could furnish
him.

It is thought that we shall be run hard in the House to-morrow. And
so we shall, but we shall not be beat, as Charles gives out, and
does not believe. I suppose our majority will be about twenty.
Absentees in the last Question on both sides will now appear. I hope
that Government will send two Yeomen of the Guard to carry the Fish
down in his blankets, for he pretends to have the gout. He should be
deposited sur son maniveau, and be fairly asked his opinion, and
forced to give it, one way or the other, en pleine assemble, for at
present it is only we who can tell s'il est chair ou poisson. . . .

(199) Of Queensberry.

(200) See note (82).

(201) Charles Pratt, Earl Camden (1713-1794). Lord Chancellor in
1766; the friend of Pitt (Lord Chatham).

(202) Thurlow.


(1782, Feb. 19?) Tuesday night, 8 o'clock.--I saw Lord R. Spencer
and Lord Ossory to-day, who tell me that they suppose that we shall
carry the Question by ten, if the Question is put; but it is
imagined rather by them that the Ministers will give it up. Ellis
has added another footman to his chariot, and is a Minister in form,
and fact, and pomp, and everything. Lady Ossory is just come to
town. Lord Clarendon has wrote a copy of verses upon Lord
Salisbury's Ball, which the Essex's are so kind as to hand about for
him. The verses are not numerous. There are not above two stanzas,
and not good enough to suppose that they had been composed even in
his sleep; so much nonsense and obscurity and want of measure and
harmony I never saw in any composition before. But as they love to
laugh at his Lordship in that family, so, as he had the absurdity to
communicate them, they are determined that they shall not be
suppressed. . . .

Weltie's Club(203) is going to give a masquerade like that given by
the Tuesday Night's Club. I hear that all the different parties in
Opposition are determined to draw together in this Question, how
much soever they may differ afterwards, in hopes, I suppose, by
their united force, to destroy this Administration. Young Pitt has
formed a society of young Ministers, who are to fight under his
banner, and these are the Duke of Rutland, Mr. Banks, Lord Chatham,
&c., &c., and they assemble at Goostree's.(204)

To-morrow no post goes, as I am told, and on Thursday Storer shall
give you an account of what will have passed in the House; he will
do that better than I can. He attends at his Board very exactly. You
have done a great thing for him, and no one seems more sensible of
it. Lord Cov(entry) would have persuaded me to-day that things were
going very ill in Ireland, but till I hear it from you I shall not
believe it. All my accounts hitherto have had a different tendency.

I hear from one quarter that a change of some sort in Administration
is determined upon, and that the Chancellor has the task of
composing those jarring atoms to prevent the King's Cabinet from
being stormed. That Lord Shellbourne will be taken in, de quelque
maniere ou d'autre. Storming a Cabinet is a phrase coined in my
time, to express what I cannot pretend to say that I do not
understand, but how the fact is practicable, invito rege, will be
for ever a mystery to me, and if it happens with his consent I am
yet to learn how the Cabinet is storm(ed). I will never believe but
if a prince very early in his reign had a mind to set a mark upon
those who distinguish themselves in Opposition with that view, he
would never have the thin(g) attempted. It may be necessary to
change measures and men, but why it is necessary that particular men
must be fixed upon you, whether you will [or] not, I do not
conceive, nor will ever admit as [a] possibility, while the Laws and
Constitution remain as they are; so with this I wish you a good
night.

(203) Weltzie's Club was at No. 63, St. James's Street. Weltzie was
House Steward to the Prince of Wales, by whom the Club was
established, in opposition to Brooks's.

(204) This club was at No. 5, Pall Mall, which was occupied by
Almack's before it was taken over by Brooks' in 1778, and removed to
St. James's Street. Goosetree's was quite a small club, of about
twenty-five members, of whom Pitt was the chief.


(1782, Feb.) 26, Tuesday m(orning), 11 o'clock.--. . . . I went last
night, after the children were in their beds, to White's, and stayed
there till 12. The Pharo party was amusing. Five such beggars could
not have met; four lean crows feeding on a dead horse. Poor Parsons
held the bank. The punters were Lord Carmarthen, Lord Essex, and one
of the Fauquiers; and Denbigh sat at the table, with what hopes I
know not, for he did not punt. Essex's supply is from his son, which
is more than he deserves, but Malden, I suppose, gives him a little
of his milk, like the Roman lady to her father.

A very large company yesterday at Lord Rocking(ham's). The whole
Party pretends to be confident of their carrying the Question
to-morrow, if people are properly managed and collected. I do not
believe it, but they do. The main point will not be more advanced in
my opinion.


(1782,) March 1, Friday.--George seems so well today that there does
not seem wanting the coup de peigne. I have not heard a cough
to-day. We have been walking. It is the finest day that ever was,
and we are going in the coach to meet one part of His Majesty's
faithful Commons, who go to Court at two o'clock with their Address.
People are either so close, cautious, or ignorant, that among those
I converse with I can be informed of nothing which is to happen in
consequence of the last majority. It may be nothing at present, but
the Opposition is in great glee, to judge from their countenance. I
shall know before I sit down to dinner not only the K(ing's) answer,
but the manner of the answer also.

Lord Ossory is this morning gone to the Levee, and others of his
sort, I suppose, with a design to countenance and spread the credit
of their coming in. Fish, as I hear, doubles and trebles all his
flattery to Charles, and now and then throws in a compliment to Lord
N(orth), not being quite sure of what may happen, and then adds, "In
that respect I will do him justice; I do not think better even of
Charles, as to that"; and goes on in this style till the whole room
is in a laugh.

But now I have a story to tell you of his Grace the Duke of
Richmond.(205) Lord Rawdon, I hear, came over from Ireland for no
earthly reason but to oblige his Grace to a recantation of what he
had said in the H(ouse) of L(ords) about Haines. He wrote to him
here a very civil but a very peremptory letter, and at last Lord
Ligonier(206) went to him, at Lord Rawdon's request, with the words
wrote down which his Grace was to use, on his subject. At first the
Duke hesitated, but Lord L. said that he recommended it to him to
read it over carefully, and then decide; that he was limited as to
time, and hinted that, upon a refusal, he should be obliged to come
with another message. The Duke complied very judiciously, and a
speech was made accordingly; and Lord Huntingdon was present, and
heard justice done to his relation. The Duke was conscious of the
part which he was forced to take by what he said to Lord Lothian and
to Lord Amhurst; and this, as I am told, is the third time that his
Grace has been compelled to make these amendes honorables. I am glad
to have heard this, because so much mechancete deserves this
humiliation. It may be that in telling me the story, it was
aggravated, but I believe the fond of it to be true, and that his
Grace deserves this and ten times more, and so probably Mr. Bates
will directly or indirectly let him know.

Saturday  morning.--Mr.   Walpole   came   to   me  last night, as
George and I were playing together at whist with two dummies (for
Mie Mie and Mrs. W(ebb) were gone to her dancing academy), and he
stayed with me till near eleven; so I was obliged, finding it so
late, only to scrawl out three words to let you know that the little
boy was quite well. . . .

I do not find upon discourse anything exaggerated in the least in
regard to his Grace. Lord L(igonier), to those to whom he chooses to
talk upon this subject, is very explicit, and from these I had it.
It was the same with Mr. Clavering and Colonel Cunning(ham). Now for
the Address. I saw all these brouillons and their adherents go by;
that starved weasel, Charles Turner, in his coach, grinning and
squinting: Wilkes(207) in his; Charles F(ox) and Ossory, laughing in
Charles's chariot, a gorge deployee. They were not detained long.
The King beheld them come up the room with a very steady
countenance, and one which expressed a good deal of firmness. I have
been told by several that he is shrunk, and does not look well. I
have heard that the Chan(cellor) sat up with him the other night,
and till five in the morning. Of this I know nothing.

He made them the only answer which he could, in my opinion, have
made with any propriety, had he been less displeased than he has
reason to be with these people. But he laid such an emphasis upon
the words, "By the means which shall seem to me the most
conducive," &c., &c., that the answer was by no means acceptable, or
the reception; and what will follow from it and what (be) voted upon
it, the Lord knows.

Next week will be one of bustle, and I will beg Storer to be
circumstantial in all he relates to you of the House of Commons, as
I shall myself, as far as it shall come to my knowledge.

At the Levee Charles presented an Address from Westminster. The King
took it out of his hand without deigning to give him a look even, or
a word; he took it as you would take a pocket handkerchief from your
valet de chambre, without any mark of displeasure or attention, or
expression of countenance whatever, and passed it to his
lord-in-waiting, who was the Duke of Queensberry. It was the same
with Sir Jos(eph) Mawbey. He spoke to none but one word, and it was
inevitable, to Admiral Kepple, who had bouche son passage. When he
was upon the throne the Chancellor was at his right hand, and
looking with such a countenance as affords to the people of Brooks's
much occasion of abuse. Arnold(208) was behind the throne. The King
looked much displeased with Mr. Conway, the mover, at the right hand
of the Speaker.

I do not find that they expect any immediate changes to follow from
this, but so various is the discourse at White's and at Brooks's
among themselves, that it is difficult to collect anything which is
worth recording.

I went last night to Brooks's, and stayed with them all after
supper, on purpose to hear their discourse, which is with as
little reserve before me as if I was one of their friends. Charles
says that it was some comfort to him to have frightened them, at
least; but he was so candid to me as to own that from the beginning
of this emeute he could not perceive in me the least expression of
fear or disquietude whatever, and that, to be sure, he did not like.

The truth is, I have made up my mind to whatever shall happen. I
wish the King to be master, and he may be so, if he pleases, I am
confident, and all whom I saw at Brooks's last night anneantis as
politicians, if he will stand but firm upon the ground on which he
now is.

Sir G. Cooper(209) tells me that two only were lost by the
disappointment of the Loan. Several Scotch members went off, for
reasons but too apparent, and which justified but too much the
character given of them. Mr. W. lays this upon Rigby's agitated,
restless humour and intrigue, but how much he has contributed to
this bustle I am sure I cannot tell. If I was in his circumstances,
I should not be disposed to hazard any change.

The Taxes, which were to come on on Monday, are put off till
Wednesday. Questions will be followed by questions, but all will not
be carried by a majority against Government, if the King expresses
an inclination to yield as to measures and to be resolute as to men.

I own that to see Charles closeted every instant at Brooks's by one
or the other, that he can neither punt or deal for a quarter of an
hour but he is obliged to give an audience, while Hare is whispering
and standing behind him, like Jack Robinson, with a pencil and paper
for mems., is to me a scene la plus parfaitement comtque que l'on
puisse imaginer, and to nobody it seems most [more] risible than to
Charles himself.

What he and his friends would really do with me, if they had me in
their power, I cannot say, but they express in their looks and words
nothing which I can fairly interpret to proceed from ill-will. I
have been lately not so contentious or abusive as formerly, no more
than I have flattered them, and my appearance among them is from
mere curiosity, and to amuse you by my recitals more than from any
other motive.

(205) Charles Lennox, third Duke of Richmond (1735-1806). He was a
Whig of strong liberal opinions.    In 1782 he joined Lord
Rockingham's  Cabinet  as  Master General  of the   Ordnance. He
resigned office when Fox and North came into power in 1782. In 1783,
on the fall of the Coalition Ministry, he joined Pitt's first
Administration, from which time his opinions grew more conservative.
In 1795 he gave up office but continued to give an independent
support to Pitt. Richmond's handsome person, high station, love and
patronage of the fine arts, and his political ambition and capacity,
combined to make him one of the first men of the time.

(206) Edward, Earl  Ligonier, died  1782, of the Irish peerage, and
a general in the English army.    His grandfather was a native of
France, and a Huguenot.    His uncle was Marshal Lord Ligonier.

(207) John Wilkes (1727-1797). He first made use of the power of the
press in politics. In 1782 his election for Middlesex Was finally
pronounced by Parliament to be valid.

(208) Benedict Arnold (1741-1801). Arnold, after brilliant military
services on behalf of the revolted Colonists, had entered, in 1780,
into negotiations with General Clinton to give up to the English
commander the position of West Point with its stores. Major Andre
was sent to him on behalf of the English general. Arnold's treachery
was discovered, and he had barely time to escape to a British sloop.
In 1782, after being given the rank of Brigadier-General in the
English army, he came to London.

(209) Sir Grey Cooper, died 1801, one of the Secretaries of the
Treasury from 1765 to 1782, and again under the Coalition Ministry.
Noted for his administrative ability and accurate knowledge on
questions of finance.


The correspondence must again be interrupted to continue the
narrative of the parliamentary struggle. On receipt of the King's
answer to the Address which, it has already been stated, was carried
without a division, Conway moved another hostile resolution, to the
effect that those who should advise the further prosecution of the
American war should be considered enemies of the country. This was
also carried without a division, but Lord North still remained in
office.

On March 8th, therefore, the attack was renewed, Lord John Cavendish
bringing forward a resolution which concluded with the words, "That
the chief cause of all these misfortunes has been the want of
foresight and ability in his Majesty's Ministers." The Government
were still able to depend on their place-holders, and averted a
direct defeat by carrying the order of the day by ten votes.

The Opposition was as obstinate in assault as the King--for it was
virtually he against whom the attacks of Fox and his friends were
being pressed--was in defence, and on the 15th of March a direct
resolution of want of confidence was only defeated by nine votes.

Notice was promptly given of a renewal of the struggle on March
20th, but when that day arrived Lord North came down to the House of
Commons and announced the resignation of the Government. It was one
of the momentous declarations in English history. It virtually
proclaimed the independence of the American colonies and the
beginning of a new epoch of ministerial responsibility to the House
of Commons. Among the frequenters of St. James's Street the first
thought was how would their own political fortunes be affected.
Fox's declaration that an end had come to a political system was
received with incredulity. To Selwyn it was a time at once of
annoyance and interest. He feared for his sinecure offices; he had,
as has been already pointed out, grown accustomed, like many others,
to the Administration of the King and Lord North. He had no personal
liking for the fallen Minister, and he had watched the career of Fox
from boyhood with mingled admiration and disgust. He could not
realise him as a Minister.


(1782,) March 6, Wednesday morning.--I told you, in my letter of
Monday, that I should Write to you yesterday, and so I should have
done, if there had anything come to my knowledge more than what you
see in all the public papers, and which must be of equal date with
my letter.

What conversation I have with the people at Brooks's or White's upon
these matters is really not worth putting down. Those who are out,
and wanting the places of those who are in, either for themselves or
for their friends, talk a language which has much more of phrensy in
it than common sense, which, in the most rational and the best
tempered, seems as much out of sight, as the spirit of the
Constitution itself.

You will laugh at my mentioning that, because you will not conceive
that I understand it; perhaps I do not, but I perfectly remember how
(I) have heard and read it described to be, and it is as different
from what our present Patriots or Whigs represent it, as the
Government of the Grand Senior (Signer).

Poor Fitz(willia)m, whom I really love on many accounts, held me in
conversation last night, his brother only being present. I do not
know if he was in earnest, but I suppose that he was. He had worked
himself up to commiserate the state of this country, nay, that of
the King himself, [so] that I expected every instant that his heart
would have burst; but to speak more to my passions, he lamented, in
the terms the most attendrissants, your situation, and how much your
pride, and feelings of every kind, must be hurt, and that for no
estate upon earth he would be in your perilous state.

I begged for a little light, and to know if there was a possibility
of salvation in any position in which our affairs could be placed.
He asked me then with the utmost impetuosity, what objection I had
to Lord Rockfingham(210) being sent for. You may be pretty sure that
if I had any, I should not have made it. I contented myself with
asking how he intended to begin his operations, to which I was
answered in two Latin words, de nova.

If that should be, and the in nova fert animus should take place, we
must as individuals be meta[mor]phosed indeed, and what will become
of the public neither he, Burke, Charles, or any one of the
Cavendishes I suppose knows or cares. But I think that Lord
N(orth's) peremptory assurance of yesterday, together with the
King's strong expressions of resentment for the manner in which he
has been treated, may suspend all this nonsense for the present, and
leave us at leisure to regret something of more essential
consequence to the public than whether Charles and Hare live in St.
James's Street, or at the Treasury.

To-day we have the Taxes, which are heavy enough of themselves
without all the speeches made to oppose them; to-morrow I know
nothing of; and on Friday we shall have another trial of skill
between the Privileges of the Crown and the Prerogative of the
People. In the meantime there is in the larder the loss of Minorca
and of St. Kit's,(211) with good hopes of further surrenders, to
feed our political discontent, and private satisfaction. I have a
new relation, as you know, that is the most zealous Constitutionist,
according to his own notions, that ever was, and he has honoured me
lately with very long conferences; ma porte ne lui est jamais
refusee, cela s'entend. But I can only ask questions for
information, and even my doubts or ignorance are not acceptable, but
we part always upon very good terms, because I always appear
attentive, and so he presumes that of course I must be more
instructed than when he came to me.

Charles has attempted more than once to feel my pulse, but finding
them (sic) beat pretty much as usual, he augurs no good from it. I
have only desired, if they are resolved to turn me out, to have
three months' warning, that I may get into another place, which I
shall certainly have if I go with the same character which I had in
my last. I am sober, and honest, and have no followers, and although
I used to be out at nights and play at the alehouse, I have now left
it off.

I was asked last night at Lady Buckingham's, and am ashamed of my
laziness in not going. I dine with his Lordship on Saturday, and
to-day I am going with Mie Mie and Mrs. W(ebb) to Mr. Gregg's, who
has got a little ball for a dozen children of her age, because it is
the birthday of one of his own.

Arnold's being behind the King's chair when the Address came up has
given great offence. They will not suffer soon an enemy to the
Americans to come into the guard room. I think that Arnold might as
well have paired off with Laurens;(212) it would have conciliated
matters much more.

. . . Poor Lady H(ertfor)d['s] civilities in inviting so many of the
Opposition to her Ball, afford a great deal of mirth. Charles did
not go; he has not leisure for those trifles. Hare and Lord Robert
have the drudgery of dealing between them. Your kinsman Walker is a
cul de plomb at the table, and has lost, I believe, both his eyes
and fortune at it. He seems so blind as not to see the card which is
before him. Keene seems to have surrendered in his mind this
forteresse, so I take for granted that he knows how little a while
it will last.

I wish I could know at this moment for a certainty what is to become
of you and me. I talked long with Gregg about this when Storer had
left us. It is my opinion, from all I hear of your circumstances and
my own, that we shall be both reduced to 2,000 a year each, and as
great as the inequality is between us in all other respects, in that
we shall be equal, and the alternative is to submit to the terms
imposed by the new people, which may be very humiliating to us both.
If you are not an object of their justice, of their esteem, and
respect, you will, I am sure, not consent to be one of their mercy
only. I shall feel the deprivation of two parts out of three of my
income, but I hope that I shall have enough left for Mie Mie's
education, and to supply possible losses to her in other respects.
If I do that, and am lodged up two pair of stairs in a room at half
a guinea a week, as I was when I lodged with Lord Townshend and Lord
Buckingham in 1744 or 5, I will never utter an impatient word about
le retour de mon sort, whatever injustice may have been done me. If
the storm falls upon you only, I am willing that you should avail
yourself of anything in my situation, by which you can be assisted.
But I shall never bear with patience the insults which I know would
be offered to you, if these people had their terms, in their full
extent.

The King, I hear, is in good spirits, and went yesterday to Windsor
to hunt, so I hope he knows that he is in a better situation than I
fancy him to be. If it is not so, and he can make up his mind to it,
I must envy him his insensibility. But I think that if he had one
atom of it, and heard a hundredth part of what I hear from those who
are forcing themselves into his councils, he would lose his Crown,
and his life too, rather than submit to it. It is better certainly
to be kicked out of the world than kicked as long as you live [in]
it, whatever his Grace may think. But the Duke intended to insult,
and not to be obliged to apologise.

A peace, I find, of some sort is negotiating with Mr. Adams.(213)
Lord Cov(entry) dropped hints of a great deal which he knew of this
matter, but could not reveal. No credit seemed to be given yesterday
at dinner, either to his intelligence or credit with the new people,
and he had a very dissatisfied look. Two of the Bedchamber are to be
left, Lord Ailesford and the Duke of Queensberry, but the Duke's
other place will be annihilated.

The Duke of R(ichmond) affects to say that he will take nothing, and
when this is repeated there is a laugh, thinking how suddenly his
Grace is changed, for lately he took anything, and what no man
living would have taken but himself; he has met with more of this at
Chichester. His pride must have suffered of late immensely. Lord
Huntingdon dined with us yesterday, and we had the whole story en
detail, from the beginning to the end. Mr. Bates pines in his
confinement for a sight of the papers; it will not be long, I
daresay, before his resentment is gratified.

It is certainly a great consolation to me, in this trouble and
public disgrace to the King, and private distress to myself and to
you, that you stand, as you do, upon such high ground in point of
reputation; not a mouth is open against you, not a person but is
ready to say, that no one ever executed a great office so becomingly
or so judiciously as you have done. But I am afraid not of your
conduct, but of your decline, and therefore wish for a timely
retreat if possible. That others may repent of it, is true, but a
good man and one who meant the good of his country only would never
wish to have Administration pass out of your hands into those of
such a calf as they now talk of.(214) But things must have their
course; they are grievous to me, but not unlooked for.

If I had had any conception that this storm would have come so soon,
I could have supported it with less embarrassment; but I must now
bear up against it, as well as I can, and so must you, for si tout
sera perdu, horsmais votre honneur, there is no help for it. Le Roi
ne s'est pas encore rendu.

As to Ireland, you have passed over that subject very slightly with
me, but the approaching troubles or danger of them could not be a
secret from me long. As accounts were exaggerated, so I was in hope
no part of them were (was) true, but it is manifest to me now, from
what I hear, that there are materials in that country for the
greatest confusion, tot ou tard. There is a spirit of independency,
and impatience of Government, and an aversion to rule, which has
infected every part of his Majesty's dominions. It is to me
wonderful that with all this he preserves his health, for to public
distress is added the utmost degree of domestic infelicity, and no
prospect of a change for the better.

Charles did not go to Lady Hertford's ball last night, although
invited, in so distinguishing a manner. The Duke of Devonshire told
him that twenty ladies had kept themselves disengaged in hopes of
having him for a partner. Mie Mie goes to-night to the Theodores'
benefit, with Lady Craufurd and Lady something Aston. I shall stay
at home with George and get Fawkner to be her beau, if I can. I
could not parry this off, but am in pain about it.

(214) The Duke of Portland, who subsequently succeeded Lord Carlisle
as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.



(1782,) March 12, Tuesday.--. . . . Dr. Ekins and I dined yesterday
at Lord Gower's, when I received your letter of the 6th, and Lady G.
one from Lady Carlisle. Lord G. and I had a good deal of discourse
on the present state of things, but my curiosity led to know chiefly
how any alterations would affect you in your present situation. He
seemed to think not at all. What may become of Storer, of me, or of
John St. J(ohn) is another thing. These people, by long opposition,
hunger, and engagements, are become very ravenous; and Charles, as
far as he should be concerned, I am persuaded, would have no
consideration upon earth but for what was useful to his own ends.
You have heard me say that I thought that he had no malice or
rancour; I think so still, and am sure of it. But I think that he
has no feeling, neither, for any one but himself; and if I could
trace in any one action of his life anything that had not for its
object his own gratification, I should with pleasure receive the
intelligence, because then I had much rather (if it was possible)
think well of him, than not. However, I am inclined to believe, that
whenever there is anything like a settlement in Government, he will
find himself disappointed and mortified, and he will then see that
he has been doing other people's work, and not his own.

Brooks's is at present a place open to great speculation and
amusement and curiosity, and I go there and talk there, but it is
without heat, or anything which makes it in any respect disagreeable
to myself or others. If that was not my temper I should not go among
them. Boothby said last night to me, that he thought that they were
not so cock-a-hoop, as he phrased it, and Lord G[ower] said that he
believed, what may be true, that they become frightened at their own
success. It is much easier to throw things into confusion than to
settle them to one's own liking. Troubled waters are good to fish
in, it is true, but sometimes in searching for a fish you draw up a
serpent. I have much more admiration of Charles's talents than
opinion of his judgment or conduct.


(1782,) March 13, Wednesday m(orming).--Two packets of mine were
sent yesterday to the messenger who was, as Sir S. Portine told me,
to set out for Ireland last night at nine. I intended to have sent
another by the post; but I had not materials enough, and I found
myself indisposed with my cold, and could do nothing but drink tea
by the fireside at White's.

The story of St. Christopher's tells well at the outset, and gives
me at least, who am sanguine, great hopes, but the Opposition still
is incredulous as to good news, and the same intelligence which they
dispute the authenticity of to-day, would be, to-morrow, if they
were in place, clear as proofs of Holy Writ, clearer indeed than
those are to the greatest part among them.

I was assured last night, that the King is so determined, as to
Charles, that he will not hear his name mentioned in any overtures
for a negotiation, and declares that the proposal of introducing him
into his councils is totally inadmissible. I should not be surprised
if this was true in its fullest extent. I can never conceive that a
King, unless he and his Government differ from all others, can do
otherwise.

Friday is our great day of struggle; some changes I should think
must be, but Denbigh,(215) who is a good calculator as to numbers,
says that we shall have eight more than last time. That will make
but a paltry majority; however, if it be so, we shall brush on, I
suppose, live upon expedients, and hope for a more favourable
crisis; and then we shall be soon prorogued, and so give time for an
arrangement in which our poor master will have better terms.

I said to Sir S. Portine yesterday, by way of conversation, that I
wished you was here to take the seals. He said that undoubtedly you
might have them, when you came over, and so I suppose you may. But I
am sure it is not the station (in) which I the most wish to see you.
As to Ireland, I have no doubt, as you say yourself, but that you
have touched your zenith, and if circumstances permitted it, I wish
to God that you was returned. No one can have done better than you
have, in all respects, et de l'aveu de tout le monde; but you are, I
see, non nescius aure fallacis, and in Ireland the winds rise
suddenly, and are violent and blast, quand on y pense le moins.

You have, I understand, made Mr. Cradock one of your Aid de camps,
which has pleased the Duchess of Bedford much; elle se loue
continuellement de la lettre qu'elle a recue de votre part; elle se
vante du credit qu'elle a aussi apres de vous. C'est un beau garcon,
et tres digne de sa protection a tout egard. I know him a little
myself; he seems a very right-headed, well-bred young man, and when
we played together, as we have done at Kenny's, he showed me
particular civilities, so I was glad to hear of the kindness which
you have had for him; but I had never heard that he had any such
thing in contemplation. . . .

I fancy that Wyndham(216) is returned for Chichester, but by a very
slender majority. Betty's patriots spread it about yesterday that
Lord N(orth) was out. What that lie was to be, which must be
contradicted an hour after, is difficult to say; perhaps to get a
vote or two of ours to go out of town, or some such flimsy scheme. I
hear that we shall be about twenty. Conway was at the Levee
yesterday, and scarce noticed; the King talked and laughed a great
deal with both Rigby and the Advocate, who were on each side of
Conway.

I was at night at Brooks's for a little while; it was high change,
all sorts of games, all kinds of parties, factions, arrangements,
whispers, jokes, etc., etc. John in better spirits; he had had a
cordial from Brummell, Lord N(orth's) secretary. Storer plays his
whist at White's. Nobody at supper there but Lord Fr. Cavendish,
Lord Weymouth, and one or two more. My circle around the fire in the
card room breaks up at about twelve, and the Duke of Q. generally
joins us towards the conclusion, and when he has talked himself out
of breath at Brooks's.

Charles dined yesterday, I believe, at Lord Rockingham's; I saw him
about five in great hurry, and agitation. What is to be done, may
not probably be concluded upon till the Easter holidays, and by that
time I hope to hear that his Majesty has been better served in the
W(est) Indias than in other parts of the world.

Negotiations for peace are much talked of. I hope that we shall
first have a little success, and then go with our proposals to
Versailles. Monsieur de Vergennes(217) says, that si l'Angleterre
veut avoir la Paix, il faut frapper a ma porte, and the sooner we
are in his cabinet for that purpose the better. If we do not begin
there, I am afraid, as Lord Bolingbroke says, we shall be suing for
it elsewhere, and at the gates of every other palace in Europe.

I have received an anonymous letter from Ireland, dated Dublin the
6th inst. I call it anon(ymous), because I believe the name of R.
Thomas to be feigned. The hand is a good one, and of a person of
fashion. He makes a demand of 500 pounds, which he says that he must
have by my means. The place I am to direct to is specified. Ekins
will carry over the letter. I rather suppose it to be from a
lunatic. He talks of not selling his voice, but I have no more light
into his scheme, or who the man is.

There is to be a great Drawing Room to-day, because Lord G(eorge)
and his bride will be presented, and with them come La Noblesse,
that is, the heads and tails of a hundred great families, to which
these young people are allied. Her head runs upon nothing but dress,
and expense; she is rather plain, as I hear, but not disagreeable.
She has made great terms for herself; her pin money is 1,500. She
will give up no part of her fortune to her husband. It is settled
upon the children; a jointure in proportion.

I saw the Duke of Bedford coming out of Charles's yesterday, so
there is another Duke for him to lead by the nose. For him he is, I
suppose,-obliged to Ossory. Young Pitt will not be subordinate; he
is not so in his own society. He is at the head of a dozen young
people, and it is a corps separate from that of Charles's; so there
is another premier at the starting post, who, as yet, has never been
shaved. I hope George will have a little more patience, but he is,
as I hear, the first speaker in his school, and by much the most
beloved, which pleases me more than if I saw the seals in his hands.

(215) Basil, sixth Earl of Denbigh (1719-1800). He was Master of the
Royal Harriers, and was deprived of his office by Lord Rockinghham.

(216) Percy Charles Wyndham was returned March 11, 1782.

(217) Charles Gravier, Comte de Vergennes (1717-1787), Minister of
Foreign Affairs under Louis XV. His policy had been to humble
England by assisting the United States.


(1782,) March 16, Saturday morning, 10 o'clock.--We divided this
morning between one and two; our majority was nine, the numbers 236
and 227. I came home; my cough is so bad that I shall put off all
my engagements to dinner, and stay at home, I believe, till I have
got rid of it. But there is to be another trial of skill on
Wednesday. Charles's arrogance both in the House, and out of it, is
insupportable. I can neither think or speak of him with patience.
Gilbert voted with us, Sir J. Wrottesley against us, Lord Trentham
went away, McDonald with us. This is Denbigh's way of calculation;
he was positive that we should have 30, or at least 22.

But good God! what a Government is this! if the King has not the
power of choosing his own Ministers. It is enough, when he has
chosen them, that they are amenable to Parl(iamen)t for their
conduct. But if it is in the power of any man, on account of his
Parl(iamen)t[ary] talents, to force himself upon the King and into
Government, when his private character would exclude him from
ever(y) other station, or society, I wish for my own part not to
belong to that Government in any shape whatever; and it would
satisfy my mind infinitely more, that, while things remained upon
that foot, that neither of us were in any kind of employment
whatsoever. But I do not presume to dictate to you. You can see and
feel for yourself, with as much discernment and sensibility as
another.

Lord North was thought to speak better, and with more spirit than
before. I could not go down into the H(ouse) to hear the Advocate, I
was so oppressed with my cold. You will see the substance of the
speeches in the Chronicle; I suppose that you have all our papers.
Storer will write to you, and tell you of his conversation with
Charles, but do not say that I anticipated the account. I must talk
with Gregg upon the subject of your return here, for neither the
removal, or the mode or the time, will be weighed by any other
scales than those of their own convenience.

The Fish voted with us, and upon the merit of this assistance, and
at this important crisis, I suppose something was founded, for when
the H(ouse) was up, he was never from Lord North's elbow.
Notwithstanding Charles's impatience, it will not be settled all
this (month?) till the Easter holidays, and how it will be settled
then, I do not conceive. They talk now of Barre for Rigby's place. I
have never once heard my nephew's(218) name in any part of the
arrangement, but he has, I presume, a situation fixed in his own
mind, as adequate to his consequence. Young Pitt expects to be sent
for from the circuit to the Cabinet, but not in a subordinate
capacity. George has not sent from Neasdon any proposals to the
K(ing), so I suppose (e is)waiting till he can negotiate a Peace. I
wish that I could overhear him in his rhetorical mood.

(218) Thomas Townshend.


(1782, March 16,) Saturday noon.--Lord G(ower) assured me that he
knew that at this juncture there was no arrangement; that there
certainly would be, and soon; that it was impossible to guess at the
disposal of the parts. That Charles would be, and has been, a thorn
in the side of his party; that the Ministers would not suffer him to
rule, nor would the country gentlemen endure him. But you might be
recalled; that it was not now an object of ambition to be the
Governor of Ireland; that he thought it would have been a lucky
event for you, and that it would have afforded you an occasion of
resigning, the best that you could have had; for things would grow
worse, and that hitherto all had been well, and that you might now
come away without reproach; but that your circumstances opposed this
option.. He was, on account of the great expense and your love of
show, afraid how these would be hurt; that he could not help being
alarmed, notwithstanding the prospect Mr. Gregg held out of saving,
at one time, to provide against the extra charges of another.

I own that these reflections have often struck me, and very
forcibly, and makes us in a sad dilemma and perplexity about what
can be done. He assured me that as soon as he knew anything, I
should be informed of it. I told him that I wish(ed) we had our four
members, which could not be, unless Lord Mellbourn could be made by
some consideration to vacate his seat; but if we had, I would risk
my fortune in Government with yours, and take my chance, and be
served in the second place, when those had the administration with
whom we could draw.

What these will do, and in what manner they will treat the King's
friends, the Lord only knows. Charles made it an objection, your
attachment to the King; that was beginning well. He has none, God
knows. His countenance to Hare or Fitzpatrick are [is] no proof of
it to me. People can like and protect those who are subservient to
them, and persecute them when they are not. Had he been capable of a
good sentiment, he would have had one for you. Instead of that, he
puts your fortune into immediate danger, by a sacrifice of his
honour and engagement, and when he has done that, you and those
attached to you are treated as mercenary, and illiberal, because you
desire to be rescued from the impending ruin. Not a hundredth part
of what has been said on this subject comes to my knowledge, but
enough to fill me with horror and indignation.

While I was writing, and just before my dinner came up, I saw Mr.
Cook, who brought me your letter. You needed not to have cautioned
me against asking after matters of state. Those nearer to me are no
objects of curiosity, further than you are concerned in them. It is
a pleasure to have such a recent account of your being well. I wish
my letters could go as speedily to you, to prevent the radotage
incident to letters of an old date. Your correspondence with Lord
Hilsborough will soon cease; who(m) you will have to write to
afterwards I have not heard. It may be Charles.

Hare and Richard came into White's just before dinner. I stopped
there to hear what was going on. They can talk of nothing but the
demolition of the last Ministry, and abbai(s)sement of his Majesty,
but of this they speak without reserve. Lord Cov(entry) was there,
as malignant and insulting as possible. It requires some degree of
temper to refrain from a reply to these things, but I shall. I have
made up my mind to these revers; no future minister can hurt me, for
none will I ever trust.

Lord North and his Secretary, Robinson, have acted such a part by me
that I should never have believed anything but a couple of attorneys
of the lowest class to have done; but my conduct has been uniform,
and not changed towards the King, whom I have meant, though
unsuccessfully, to support. Had I been a bargain-maker, I could have
made as good a one with the Opposition as another, and could have
justified it better.

I hope that in about a week more, I shall be able to send you such
intelligence as will put us both out of doubt of what is or ought to
be done. Lord G(ower), I believe, six months ago, wanted to be at
the head of affairs; he might now, but will not.(219) Nothing but
the worse management on earth in our leaders could have brought
things to such an issue.

(219) "Attempts were made to induce Shelburne and afterwards Gower
to construct a Government but they speedily failed." (Lecky, vol.
iv. p. 203).


(1782,) March 18, Monday m(orning).--I am sorry to begin my letter
with telling you that George is again in my house, but so it is. Mr.
Raikes brought him to me, and little Eden to the surgeon's, on
account of his chilblains, yesterday morning in a post chaise. Sir
N. T(homas) came, and he ordered George to be blooded, which he was
directly, and wrote other prescriptions. I believe there was some
James's powder taken last night, and he is to help his cough with
something in a certain degree emetic. His pulse were [was] above a
hundred, and his cough very troublesome, but there is nothing that
forebodes any mischief. I do not hear of the least apprehensions of
that. Dr. Ekins was here, and Mr. Nevison. Lady G[ower] could not
come on account of her cold, Lord G(ower) will be here this morning.
. . .

I have no objection to declaring my own [opinion], but I beg you and
Lady Carlisle to know that what is done now, if it is with my
opinion, it was not in consequence of it, for I have been perfectly
passive. Dr. Ekins went done to Whitehall to acquaint Lord and Lady
G(ower) with this, who approved of what was done, and last night I
was there myself; and Lord G(ower) and I had more conversation with
him upon this horrid situation of affairs. That I should be much
disturbed about them, on your account, and my own, is not
extraordinary. I have, in certain circumstances, fixed and
determined in my own mind what would be most becoming for us both to
do, and what in the end would be most advantageous, but I shall not
obtrude my advice upon you, whose judgment I hold in higher esteem,
infinitely, than my own, and whose temper is more equal. But I will
say what I believe to be the state of things now, and what they
probably will be, and you will judge the best, it may be both for
yourself and me.

I called in at Brooks's last night, but avoided all conversation,
and will for the future with any one belonging to the party. Their
insolence, their vanity and folly, and the satisfaction expressed in
their countenances, upon fancying themselves Ministers, and going
into the place of them, as they think, and to drive the K(ing) from
every shadow of power and dignity, is no object to me now of mirth;
so, as I cannot help it, or approve it, and shall get nothing by a
dispute with such people, I am determined to act for my own part
--what I think is becoming me to do--to resign all ideas of
pecuniary advantage, if I cannot have them upon the terms I like,
and wait for better times.

The P(rince) of W(ales) supped the night before last at Lord
Derby's; there were as I am told no less than six courses; the women
were Lady Payne, Lady Jersey, perhaps Lady Mellbourne; I have not as
yet been informed of particulars. He stayed there till six, and
then, I hear, carried Charles home in his coach. He canvassed in the
last Question against his father. Lord Mellbourne stayed away at his
instigation. In this he has acted contrary to his engagements. He
says that he purchased his seat at Luggershall.(220) It is a
falsehood. If he did, he has not paid the money he ought for it; but
both Lord N(orth) and Robinson have acted in this, towards me, in
the most scandalous manner in the world, and I will inform the
K(ing) of it myself by an audience, if I can find no other means of
doing it.

I warned Lord North over and over again of this supercherie. I knew
his intention, and he was so weak as to neglect the means of pinning
this fitz scrivener, [this] fitz coachman, this fitz cook to his
word, and putting it in his power to use me in this manner, as if he
had bought of me a seat in Parliament, which no man living ever yet
did, but the King himself.

Lord Gower told me last night, that it might be a week before it was
possible to guess in the least how things would [be] settled; he
believed that the King would not send for you from Ireland, unless
you chose it. I think, and so I told him, that that was more than
the King himself could answer for.

I am now confident they would give it to the Duke of Devonshire if
he would accept it; he will not, and the Duke of Portland, that
jolt-headed calf, certainly will.(221) I wish to have nothing but
Buckinghams and Portlands for their subalternate ministers as long
as they are at Court, and then their damned Administration will be
over in six months, and they sunk into the herd of the people, and
the contempt which they deserve from any man of sobriety and
character.

Rigby and Lord G(ower) werd in another room in close conference a
great while. The negotiation has been carried on, but at present
broke off, between the Chancellor and Lord Rock(ingham). Burke's
Bill, they say, is insisted on, that is, a Bill which, while they
promise the public to carry into execution, they are determine(d)
shall be rendered (as) ineffectual as this they broke off. The
Chancellor went yesterday out of town.

The thought of a new Administration is so prevalent with Charles
that he would not go to Newmarket. I heard him last night tell his
people that he saw no reason, when he was Minister, that he or his
assistants in Administration should sit upon the Treasury bench. The
merry and the sad, as my Lord Clarendon says, have employment
enough, while these actors are dressing themselves up for the play,
and rehearsing their parts.

(220) Lord Melbourne was returned with Selwyn as M.P. for borough of
Ludgershall on September 12, 1780.

(221) The Duke of Portland succeeded Lord Carlisle as Viceroy of
Ireland on the formation of the Rockingham Ministry.



(1782,) March 19, Tuesday, 11 o'clock, morning.--. . . . Gregg dines
with me to-day. He has been ever since Friday last at Saffron
Walden, so I have as yet not seen him. I have a great deal to
say to him. The seeming impossibility of your staying in
Ireland agreeably to your own sentiments, and the inconvenience
which returning suddenly will be to your private affairs, gives me
at this moment not a little disquietude, and Lord G(ower) cannot
help it, by any lights which as yet he has himself.

I saw Charles last night, and by accident was alone with me (him);
he stretched out his hand to me with great good humour. I could have
asked him an abundance of questions, and could have reasoned with
him a great while. For although in that sphere he has much
superiority to me, he has not the faculty of persuading me in the
least of what I know to be without reason, and a great part of which
he knows to be so himself. However, I did not, for fear of betraying
a want of temper which could be of no use, and I asked him no
questions, lest he should interpret them ill, and think that I
wanted to deprecate his vengeance or solicit his favour. He must be
reduced to his former despair before I shall discuss these matters
with him pleasantly.

He spoke of all coming to a final issue now within a very short
space of time; he talked of the King under the description of Satan,
a comparison which he seems fond of, and has used to others; so he
is sans management de paroles. It is the bon vainqueur et
despotique; he has adopted all the supremacy he pretended to dread
in his Majesty. It seems a dream that I survey his figure, and know
his history. His talents are great, but talents alone never operated
in this manner.

When he said how few days we had to subsist, I uttered in an humble
voice, "Greek text"; I have forgot to write my Greek. To that he
said, "You are in the right--that is the only reflection which can
be suggested for your comfort, but it is next to an impossibility."
He talks of us so much as an Opposition, that even the Wine Surplus,
which we call a majority, is forgot, and I wonder he does not in his
sleep walk into St. James's with the seals of his new Government in
his hand. He told me that he would make me a Baronet, for my vote
to-morrow night. The Duke of Devonshire said gravely, "A vast price
for one vote only!" Charles Turner has seriously insisted upon it.

The Fish told Lord N(orth) the other night, after the Division, that
he had only three bottles left of that champagne which he liked so
much, and if he would come and dine with him they were at|his
service. Lord North replied, archly enough, "What! still, Mr.
Craufurd, may I dine with you?"


(1782,) March 21, Thursday m(orning).--In the midst of all that
multiplicity of distress and confusion in which I am at present, as
well as the public, I will not omit to let you know that, excepting
the cough, George is very well. . . . What happened yesterday in the
H(ouse) of C(ommons), of which you will by various channels know the
particulars, with many more in a few days, must for ever astonish
you, if you were not sufficiently apprised of the characters of the
persons concerned. I hear that the Duke of Montagu at Windsor, the
day before, told the King of the impossibility of continuing the
Administration.

Lord N(orth), when he went to the King, was told abruptly of these
intentions; and then He (sic) sent for the principal persons in
Administration, and those who had assisted him, and having thanked
them, went down to the House to declare this in his place in the
manner in which you will, I suppose, see it described in the
papers.(222)

The old Ministry is at an end, and of what materials the new one
will be composed, the Lord knows. The insolence, the hard heartiness
(sic), brutality, and stuff, which these people talk, altogether
give me the worst apprehensions of what they will do, and I have
only to hope that from this, which seems so irreconcilable to
reason, decency, or the usual practice of Government, some system
will be formed that I shall like better.

As to Lord N(orth), what happens disagreeable to him he merits in
greatest degree, and if the King chooses to acquiesce in all this
ill treatment of him, I see no reason why I should be offended, or
feel more for a man's disgrace than he feels himself. He might have
prevented it; he seemed to wish that he could; he now seems not
affected by it; but je courerois risque d'extravaguan(ce) si je
continuois sur le chapitre.

I stayed at Brooks's this morning till between 2 and 3, and then
Charles was giving audiences in every corner of the room, and that
idiot Lord D.(223) telling aloud whom'he should turn out, how civil
he intended to be (to) the P(rince), and how rude to the K(ing).

Thursday night, 9 o'clock.--George is going on as before, no fever,
but a cough. Sir N. T[homas] has forbid his going out as yet. I took
him out airing yesterday in the middle of the day for an hour, but
to-day he has had some physic.

Lord Gower and I were a long while together at Whitehall; we both
agreed that, re bus sic stantibus, it seems impossible that you
should stay in Ireland. Hare informs me that they do not mean to
remove you. I should wonder if they did, for such an account as I
have of the state of Ireland is terrible, and I am sure one cannot
wish to send a friend to weather such a storm. The best thing for
you would be their sending another in your room, but, if they do not
do that, the next is to desire to be recalled, when you know who
these Ministers are. You must expect a pause for some time in your
political carriere, and you must in that interval practise a great
economy, which will do you infinite credit, and then, upon a new
turn of affairs you will be called with more lustre into a better
situation. This was Lord Gower's opinion, and is mine.

Charles assured me, not half an hour ago, that the King had sent for
nobody, that all was as much at a stand as before the Creation.
Nobody knows what to make of it. But a Ministry must be formed by
Monday. It is thought that my nephew will be Chancellor of the
Exchequer and C(harles) Fox the Secretary of State, and of the rest
I know nothing, of that nothing like intelligence (sic). It is
imagined that Lord Rock(ingham) and Lord Shelbourn cannot agree.

The King had no Drawing Room, only the Queen between him and Lord
Robert; Lady Sefton next to Fitzpatrick; the Prince between the
D(uchesse)s of Devonshire and Cumberland; on the other side of the
Duchess of Devonshire the Duke of Cumberland.

When I left the House, I left in one room a party of young men, who
made me, from their life and spirits, wish for one night to be
twenty. There was a table full of them drinking--young Pitt, Lord
Euston, Berkley, North, &c., &c., singing and laughing a gorge
deployee; some of them sang very good catches; one Wilberforce,(224)
a M. of P., sang the best.

I shall go at noon(?) to Whitehall, and write again in the evening.
I dine at home to-day, but to-morrow at Lord Ossory's. I would not
leave my house when George was here, but Mrs. W(ebb) has a care of
him, and attention to him in everything, as much as Mie Mie. Poor
Lady Craufurd wished to go to this Ball. I did not know, or would
have contrived it for her. She was at Lady Hertford's, but the
Duchess is so (sic) at Gloucester House, so that cannot be, upon
admissible terms.

Lord Sheilbourn was at Devonshire H(ouse) the whole night, which
seems to countenance the report that Lord R(ockingham) and he cannot
act together. Plut a Dieu que la discorde, cette deesse si utile en
certaine occasions, voulut bien se meler de cet arrangement; ce
seroit bien a propos. But there is no agreement among them but which
tends to create confusion. Tommy T(ownshend) and his family seemed
in high glee. Lady Middleton's daughter danced with my cousin of
Westmoreland; il est tant soit peu gauche, sa danse a fort peu de
grace. The women looked extremely well. Lord George presented to me
his bride; she is her father toute crachee, but not so handsome.
Charles has not bought a good coat yet upon the change in his
affairs. I thought that his former calling would have supplied
[it?]. Mrs. Bouverie(225) at supper. Many ladies who had not
received cards were sure it was a mistake, and sent for them. This
was an additional pleasure to those to whom they were sent, for here
was a school for scandal as well as for dancing. Lady Warren played
at Pharo; the Prince at Macco, and the Duke of Cumberland. John,
with a very handsome coat, satin, couleur de mar on, and an applique
of silver and des diamans faux--a coat d'hazard sent from Fripier's
in the Rue de Roule. The Duke and I did not receive our cards till
five o'clock. It was such a snow and hail and rain when we were
coming away as never was seen.

I am glad my dear little boy is in this house now; I am sure that he
would run a great risk out of it, just at this time. . . . He is
mighty busy in making out his Latin with Littleton's Dictionary,
which I have given him. ... I left Lady Gower and Lady Ann and the
Dunmores at the Ball. The Duchess of Bedford has invited me to
Bedford H(ouse) to see your letter to her. ...

Storer carries this off with such seeming spirits as are certainly
more becoming than an apparent dejection. But I dread to think to
what, I verily believe, that he will be reduced. I utter no
complaint, but I feel the danger I am in, and the distress which it
may occasion to me, and still more Lord N(orth's) abominable
treatment of me. If I had resented it, as many would have done, I
know what might have been said. But I have acted my part well and
steadily, and when I have done all which becomes me to do, I shall
make up my mind to the event.

(222) See earlier in this chapter, paragraph which begins "Notice
was promptly given . . ."

(223) Probably Lord Derby, Edward, twelfth Earl (1752-1834).

(224) William Wilberforce (1759-1833), the abolitionist and
philanthropist; at this time M.P. for Hull and one of Pitt's closest
friends.

(225) The fashionable and courted beauty. The portrait of her and of
her sister, Mrs. Crewe, together as shepherdesses, by Sir Joshua
Reynolds, in 1770, attracted much notice.


(1782, March 22,) Friday m(orning), 11 o'clock.--George seems very
well; his cough is considerably abated, but the weather is so
remarkably wet and bad, that Sir N. T(homas) wishes him to stay
within.

I was at Devonshire H(ouse) till about 4, and then left most of the
company there. All the new supposed Ministers were there except Lord
Rock(ingham), who had probably other business, and perhaps with the
K(ing). Rigby assured me that some one was sent (for?), and if
Charles did not know it, he was more out of the secret than he
thought that he had been. To be sure, the arrangement is entame, la
pillule est avalee, et bien des couloeuvres apres. Charles I left
there; I believe that he had heard what did not come up to his full
satisfaction, so probably a little water is mixed with their wine.
We shall know to-day, for this strange situation of things cannot
remain till Monday; la machine n'est pas construct a pouvoir alter
jusques a la.

I conversed privately a good while with Lord Ashburnham. I have the
greatest opinion of his judgment in the conductive part of life. I
really believe, if any man ever went through life with consummate
discretion, it has been himself, and he has preserved his reputation
at the same time, or else I should not give his conduct this eloge.
He asked me after you in the most obliging and interesting (sic)
manner, and solicitude about the part you would act, not hinting a
doubt of your not performing it well, but with great expressions of
esteem. He hoped much that you would take this opportunity, as he
said, of leaving Ireland. He said that it would be laying the
foundation of a very brilliant situation to you at another time. He
is very much in the right. I could not, to be sure, explain all the
difficulties in the way of this. There are none, indeed,
comparatively speaking.

Hare writes to you; he expresses a tenderness for your interest; je
ne la revoque pas en doute, but his interests and yours are not the
same. These new people will wish you perhaps to stay, and say it is
from regard to you. If you believe it you will deceive yourself. If
they will send another, so much the better; let their friend stay to
govern Ireland when Ireland is what it will be. But if they talk of
keeping you there, wait to see the Ministry established, and then
ask for your recall. I hope that you will not reflect a moment with
concern upon the straights to which you may be reduced by way of
expense. We will do all we can to arrange this matter, but honour
and figure, as you know, cannot be added, or taken from you, by
expense. That is not the scale in which the respect which all the
world owes and is ready to pay you and Lady C(arlisle) will be
weighed. If you came from Holyhead in the stage waggon, it would
only be more reputable to you. There was a strong instance of that
in the story of this Duke of Newcastle's father. Lord Gower tells me
that Lord Rock(ingham) is personally not attached to you from
provincial reasons. I never adverted to that consideration.

The K(ing) had a most narrow escape hunting on Tuesday. His horse
ran away with him; he was thrown on a gate; he seems to be marked
out for a people (sic) to be distressed and disgraced in every way
possible. Burke was last night in high spirits. I told him that I
hope, now they had forced our entrenchments and broke loose, that he
and his friends would be compassionate lions, tender-hearted
hyaenas, generous wolves. You remember that speech of his; he was
much diverted with the application. Our fete was very brilliant
indeed, and well conducted; there was a supper for at least 300
people; eight rooms where there were tables. The Prince l'astre de
la nuit, couvert de faux brilliant (sic); c'est un beau cavalier.
The Duchess of Cumberland was there, but not the Princess Royale. It
was proposed, as is said, that the Duke of Gloucester should be
Commander in Chief.



(1782, March) 23, Saturday night.--George goes on well, but Sir N.
T(homas) will not let him go out. The weather is worse than it has
been at any time this winter. Leveson has been all this evening at
my house to play with him.

Nothing as yet arranged, and we meet on Monday. It is imagined that
we must then adjourn till Friday; about that there will be a bustle.
Lord Gower was sent for yesterday morning by the King, and was with
him a great while. I was this morning at Whitehall. The Chanc(ello)r
was there. Gregg showed Lord G(ower) your accounts; they are better
than'he expected. Charles expressed to me last night more than once
an anxiety lest you should be in Opposition, and asked me if the
Master of the Horse would please. I could give him no answer to
that, but that it depended upon circumstances. He said Lord
Cadogan's place would do for Lord Foley. That this Revolution which
he brought about was the greatest for England that ever was; that
excepting in the mere person of a King, it was a complete change of
the Constitution; and an era ever glorious to England, and a great
deal of such rhapsody. Richard insolent to a degree.

I was a good while to-day with Lord G(ower); still of opinion that
your return here would be the most favourable event that could
happen to you. Ossory hinted to me this afternoon that the King
would see Lord Rock(ingham) to-night. Hanger assures me that Charles
is better disposed to me than to anybody, but that I have enemies
who surround him; so there is one friend in a corner.

On Monday I expect some envious dissertations in the H. of C. on the
nature of the new Government. The Duke of Gloucester won't be
Comm(ande)r in Chief for two reasons; one is, that the Duchess can
be admitted at Court; and the second is that Lord Rock(ingham) will
not permit it. It is meant to take the Army out of the K. hands, and
that would be putting it into them. I have no more for to-night. My
love and respects to your fireside, shall see Caroline again with
great pleasure indeed, and the little boy.


(1782, March 27,) Wednesday night, 10 o'clock, at home.--The Cabinet
Council(226) kissed hands to-day, and Dunning with the rest. He is
Chancellor [of the] Duchy of Lancaster and a peer. At this I was
surprised. Ashburn(h)am is kept, and all the Bedchamber. Lord
Hertford is delivered up at discretion; either he or his son Isaac
must be sacrificed. But his Lordship has not been thought the father
of the faithful, or so himself. Their trimming has released his
M(ajesty) from any obligations to protect them.

The Duke brings me word from Court that I am safe, but how I do not
comprehend. To take away my place, which is to be annihilated in two
months by Burke's Bill, (is absurd), and a pension I would not
receive, but as an appendix to a place or as a part of it. But the
D(uke), whose friendship for me is very vif, on some occasions, has
fished out this for me. I could not go to Court, my temper would not
permit. I could have seen my R(oyal) master on the scaffold with
less pain than insulted as he has been to-day. I am going out to
hear all that passed, and how he bore it. From my parlour window I
saw Mr. Secretary Fox step into his chariot from his office, and
Lord Shelbour(n)e and Dunning from the other office. The Levee was
not over till near five, that is, the audiences, a most numerous
Court--souls to be saved, and souls not to be saved.

Warner dined here, and Storer. Mie Mie went to her Academy, so I
stayed at home to keep George company. He was upon the dining table
hearing Warner, Storer, and I (me) talking over this political
history, with an attention and curiosity which would have charmed
you, as well as the questions he asked. He looked like a little Jesu
in a picture of Annibal Carraci's listening to the Doctors. He has
been reading to-day speeches in Livy, with the French translation.
We gave him sentences this evening to construe. It was wonderful how
well he did them. The weather grows fine, and I shall desire leave
to carry him back till the 25th of next month, for he is very well;
the cough which (he) has is trifling. He has no heat;--he looks
delightfully.

I was with Lord Gower this morning. The Chanc(ello)r dined there
to-day. I talked with Lord G. about you; he has explained your
situation, and I suppose has told you that arrangements will be made
here to your satisfaction. I see some comfort in all this. Nous
reculerons pour mieux sauter. Your return will mortify some of the
Opposition, who hope to keep you a year in Ireland out of charity,
to insult you, and for their convenience. Lord Carmarthen solicits
this with chaleur and impatience. I believe there is in this tant
soit peu de malice, et pour se venger, for he will have your
Lieutenancy in the County too. He has lost himself with me entirely.
A thousand traits of him have crowded upon me, which a little
partiality to him had obscured.

I was asked to dine at Derby's to-day with the new Ministers; I
could not accept it. Prudence forbid(s) that, as well as want of
temper. What I said or did not say would have been ill interpreted,
so I refused.

Charles has taken a house in Pall Mall. Sheridan is his secretary.
What becomes of Hare and Richard I know not. Richard has provoked me
beyond measure by his insolence and unfeelingness about everybody
and everything. The Garters are for the Duke of Portland, D.
Devonshire, Duke of Richmond, and one of the Princes.

My nephew, Secretary at War, and Burke, Paymaster. This was what he
hoped for, I mean Tommy. The Chancellorship of the Exchequer not
determined upon it (yet?). Lord John Cav(endish) balances about it.
Young Burke, Secretary of the Treasury. Another ball at Devonshire
House. I long to see you, Lady Carlisle, and the children. This is
the only balm in all this infernal business. But vous avez un beau
role a jouer, but you must have patience for the present and, as
George says, wait the event. This is a plusieurs facettes. I will
now go to White's for more intelligence, and write more if I can,
but it is half-hour after ten.

(226) The new Cabinet. The Rockingham Ministry consisted of Lord
Rockingham, First Lord of the Treasury; Lord Thurlow, Lord
Chancellor; Lord John Cavendish, Chancellor of the Exchequer;
Charles James Fox, Secretary for Foreign Affairs; Lord Shelburne,
Secretary for the Home and Colonial Departments; Admiral Keppel,
First Lord of the Admiralty; Lord Camden, President of the Council;
Duke of Grafton, Lord Privy Seal; Duke of Richmond, Master of the
Ordnance; Dunning (Lord Ashburton), Chancellor of the Duchy of
Lancaster; General Conway, Commander-in-Chief; Burke (not in the
cabinet), Paymaster of the Forces.


(1782,) March 29 (30?), Saturday m(orning), 8 o'clock.--I could not
write last night but a few lines, but if I could, many pages would
not have been sufficient, or any force of language which I possess
strong enough to express all I feel from reading your letter of the
22nd instant. Although my friendship, and tenderness for what
concerns you, may not be greater than that of . . . (sic) my judgment
has on this occasion been, as I perceive, more corresponding with
your sentiments, which I have spoke from the dictates of that pride
which I can adopt on your account, but would be presumptuous on my
own. I hope, in avoiding one inconvenience, that I have not fallen
into another, but if I have, the mistake can be easier corrected if
necessary.

When Charles has expressed to me, as he did more than once, an
anxiety about your conduct, and an uneasiness lest it should be in
opposition to his own, I contented myself with saying, that it was
impossible for me to know what you would do, but I was in no pain
about it; that if he could, as I had heard him say that he could in
very strong terms, answer for your ready judgment on all occasions,
so I would answer for your honour, which two things made me sure
that you would always act as became you, and that, therefore, I was
in no pain upon that head; that whatever might happen disagreeable
to you, or to me, we were both prepared for it. And when I have
expressed a curiosity concerning the disposal of offices in general,
I have been sometimes taken up shortly, impertinently, and dirtily
by that jackanapes, Lord D., and he has said, "Your friend will not
stay in Ireland."

I have then only answered, "My Lord, my wishes are that he may not,
and it is most probable that he will not desire it; but you are
quite mistaken if you suppose that in these arrangements I have any
anxiety or curiosity about him." All that is an object of my love
and esteem is quite independent of other people's resolutions; and
as for what regards myself, I am not indifferent, I own, and I shall
wish to know how I may be treated by those to whose power I am
delivered up, but I have never asked one question concerning it. I
shall provoke no man's anger unnecessarily; it is my only solicitude
to let people see that if they oblige me by good treatment, they
oblige one whom they do not despise, and who has acted 'in all
circumstances like a gentleman.

I have, I find, from what I have been told by the Party, the credit
of having behaved better and calmer on this occasion than many of my
fellow convicts. What I have felt I have felt like a man, and that I
have not attempted to deprecate by pretending that I thought myself
to blame. But, my dear Lord, this has been merely exterior, for at
home and alone I have been greatly depressed, both on your account
and on that of others. I have felt for the honour and credit, and
sufferings, of a person to whom I can only be attached by principle.
For the sentiment of personal affection does not arise for objects
of such inequality. I do not know how to account for it, but I have
had, and still have, such a share of that, as would make one think
that with the air of France and with the language of the country I
had imbibed all the prejudices of their education. My thoughts about
your distress, and of those dear children, which seem to belong as
much to me as to you and Lady C., have really affected me at times
in a manner which would have exposed me anywhere out of my own room,
and to anybody else but to Dr. Ekins, who knows how naturally, and
justly, I feel for you,

I have in the last place been touched, as I must be, with the great
difference of my own circumstances, such as they were and might have
been, and such as they would be if all this impending mischief had
its full effect. The loss of three thousand pounds a year, coming
after debts created by imprudence, and which might otherwise have
been soon liquidated, is a blow which I confess that I was not
prepared for, and if I could not feel it for myself, I must have
felt it for you. Born for your use, as Zanga says, I live but to
oblige you, and as soon as I become unprofitable to you, I shall
feel then the most sensibly, how imprudently I have acted, and how
unjustly I have been dealt with. I have, as I have told you before,
not had yet the courage to look upon that ledger, where I saw once
so fair an account, and where I must now make myself so many
rasures. Stabant tercentum nitidi in praepibus altis. I must now see
myself reduced in comparison to a narrow or at least a circumscribed
plan, and without a possibility of assisting one object of my
affection without hurting another.

However, gloomy as the prospect has been, it may clear up, and I
could, if it was right, encourage hopes and anticipate a perspective
that is not unpleasing to me.

I shall see Lord G(ower)to-day, who will tell me more particularly
how things have been settled since yesterday, when I was with him.
It is an idea of my own that he has contrived an arrangement for
you, which, while it relieves your distress, saves, I hope, your
honour. I have myself as much dreaded as you could do, your being
thought of as an object of mercy, and I trust that so near a
relation will dread that for you, as well as myself, and that if he
secures you from injustice that he will secure your credit at the
same time. I have my eyes opened now upon the intrigues of a Court
more than they were in all the former part of my life, and of all
people I believe that I shall be the last for the future who will be
the dupe of Ministers.

The new Government, for it is more that than merely a new
Administration, has given me quite a new system for my own conduct.
If they have by violence &c. got into places from whence I would
have excluded them, if now they should behave rightly in them, and
the country becomes better and safer for their conduct, it would be
folly not to assist them. But I am, above all things, desirous that
both your assistance and my own, such as it is, should be more
wished for by them than their assistance wished for by us.

I think that you stand clear of all which can humiliate you at
present. No one's conduct in every circumstance, so far as regards
your administration in Ireland, can be more universally commended.
You do not desert, but retire, when those who are at the helm, if
they have confidence in your understanding and honour, mistrust your
inclinations towards themselves, and you leave to their friends and
dependants a business from which no honour can be derived.

You are not driven from your post, because they will have recalled a
man manifestly more willing to leave it, than they to profit of the
resignation. They would have kept you perhaps for their own sakes,
although they would do nothing for yours, and they would have made
you a tool, but cannot, as they know, make you a friend but by
behaving well towards [you] and towards their country.

Your private circumstances, if known to be embarrassed, are known at
the same time not to embarrass you. Your chop and your pewter plate
will reproach others sooner than they can reflect disgrace upon
yourself. The audax paupertas, however, is not necessary, but great
economy is. I myself will give you an example of it, and contribute
every atom in my power to ease your mind from what will most
sensibly and naturally affect it. What interest in Parliament is
left me shall be yours, and if my little bark, sailing in attendance
upon yours, is able to assist you, I shall be happier in that
circumstance than from any which I could otherwise have derived from
it.

But we may perhaps all act in concord for the present. I am told, I
do not [know] how true, that no hostilities are intended towards me;
nous verrons. I can never be used by any set of Ministers so ill, or
with such indignity, as by those who are removed. . . .(227) said
last night that the executions were now near(ly) over. I will open
my mind to you. I think both his and Richard's language in all this
transaction has been to the last degree indecent, and I am sure,
unless these two are better advised, they will do their chief more
disservice than any ill-conduct of his own. When people of low birth
have by great good luck and a fortunate concurrence of events been
able to obtain, from lively parts only, without any acquisitions
which can be useful to the public, such situations as are due only
to persons of rank, weight, and character, it is surely an easy task
not to be insolent. It is all I require of them; I envy no man his
good fortune, ever so undeserved, while he shows no disposition to
offend others. But with all this I have not been provoked enough to
express my resentment, or mean enough to deprecate that of others.

(227) An erasure.

I was last night at supper with Charles, but not one syllable passed
between us. He knows that I see him in a situation where I cannot
wish to see any one who has aspired to it and obtained it by the
means which he has used. No one admires more or thinks more justly
of his abilities than I do; no one could have loved him more, if he
had deserved it; what his behaviour has been to the public, to his
friends, and to his family is notorious. Facts are too stubborn, and
to those I appeal, and not to the testimonies of ignorant and
profligate people. However, if hereafter you can reconcile yourself
to him and to his behaviour towards you, I will forgive him, and
although I desire to lay myself under no obligation to him, I will
remember only that he is the child of those whom I loved, without
interest or any return.

George wonders to see me write so much to you; he is so well that I
will carry him to school on Monday, without consulting any person.
. . . He has read more Latin to me than I have to him, for my breath
as been affected by the cold, or I should have read more with him;
but he has hammered out his Latin with the dictionary and what
assistance I can give him, and construes it wonderfully well. He
will be at school till the 25th of next month, and then I propose
exercise abroad, and the Modern History of Europe at home, and
French; for to speak the truth he is defective in the pronunciation
of that, for want of practice. The Theodore's coming here obliges me
to have my nieces dine here, to see her. I'm afraid people will come
to see Mie Mie dance par billets.






CHAPTER 6. 1786-1791 THE CLOSING CENTURY

Political events--At Richmond--The Duke of Queensberry's villa
--Princess Amelia--The King's illness--The French Revolution
--Proposed visit to Castle Howard--In Gloucestershire--Affairs in
France--The Emigres--Society at Richmond--The French Revolution
--Richmond Theatre--French friends--Christening of Lady Caroline
Campbell's child--Selwyn's bad health--Death.

OF the series of political events which in rapid succession followed
the formation of the Rockingham Ministry, the death of its head, the
accession to the premiership of Lord Shelburne, the resignation of
Fox, and lastly the coalition between that statesman and his old
antagonist Lord North, Selwyn tells us nothing. His correspondence
with Carlisle came to an end for the time when his friend was
recalled from Ireland in 1782. Thus the last group of letters has
rather a social and a personal than a political interest.

For a number of years Selwyn had been in a constant state of alarm
lest he should be deprived of his sinecure office of Paymaster of
the Board of Works. Burke's scheme of economical reform had been a
constantly threatening cloud to him. The passing of this Bill,
which that statesman had so persistently but unavailingly pressed on
the House of Commons, had, however, been made one of the conditions
on which the Rockingham Ministry came into office. It became law in
1782,(228) and under its operations Selwyn was deprived of his
office. But in 1784, when Pitt was safely in power, Selwyn was
appointed to the equally unarduous and lucrative post of Surveyor
-General of Crown Lands. He was thus able to enjoy the last years of
his life in affluence, and enjoy them he did, in spite of failing
health. His letters are still gay, showing unabated interest in the
world around him. He retained that remarkable sympathy for the young
which had characterised his life. The children of Carlisle had grown
out of childhood. Lord Morpeth was going to Oxford,(229) Lady
Caroline was married. His adopted daughter, the Mie Mie of so many
of the preceding letters, had become a woman, and the care and
affection with which Selwyn had watched over her growth and
upbringing was now transferred to her well-being and pleasure in
the first society of the country. It is a charming picture--the old
man without a wife or children of his own finding in the friendship
of young and old all that his kindly and affectionate nature
required. It heightens our ideas of the breadth and the depth of
friendship when we see how it can compensate for the lack of those
natural relationships which are supposed to be the solace of
advancing years. Of political events in England during the period
covered by this last correspondence the most important was the mental
illness of the King. It began early in November, 1788; it ended in
the spring of the following year. On the 23rd of April, 1789, the
King, the Royal Family, and the two Houses of Parliament attended a
thanksgiving service at St. Paul's. But in the interval important
constitutional debates had occurred in Parliament on the question of
the Regency. That the Prince of Wales should be Regent both
Government and Opposition were agreed; but whilst Pitt and the
Cabinet desired to place certain limits to his power, Fox and the
Whigs regarded his assumption of the office as a matter of right,
and held therefore that he should have the powers of the Sovereign.
The constitutional question was complicated by personal feeling, so
that all London society was ranged on one side or the other. Selwyn
was a ministerialist, though he seems to have kept a cooler head
than many of his friends. But the rapid recovery of the King
rendered these discussions abortive and put an end to the political
hopes and fears which were aroused by his illness. Pitt remained in
office, the Whigs in opposition.

Presently, however, the French Revolution became all-important.
Events in France were watched with the keenest interest by Selwyn,
to whom many of those who figured in the tragic scenes in Paris were
personally known. But he regarded the state of affairs in France
with greater calmness than many, though he was shocked at
revolutionary violence. It is, however, the picture in these letters
of the society of the French emigres in and about London that gives
so much interest to the last group of correspondence. Of this,
however, it will be more fitting to speak when the letters which
touch on it are reached.

(228) 22 Geo. III. c. 82, 1782. An Act for enabling his Majesty to
discharge the debt contracted upon his Civil List Revenues, and for
preventing the same from being in arrear for the future, by
regulating the mode of payments and by suppressing or regulating
certain offices.

(229) He metriculated at Christchurch, October 19, 1790.


(1786, Oct. 25,) Wednesday m., Richmond.--I was in London on Monday,
but returned hither to dinner. I propose to go there this morning,
and to lie in town. I am to dine with Williams, who is quite
recovered, as I am; he is kept in London, Lord North being there, on
account of his son's ill health--Mr. Frederick N(orth).(230) I hear
no news, and am sorry that that which Lord Holland told me is not
true, of his uncle's annuity, which I mentioned in my last.

The Princess Amelia(231) is thought to be very near her end; there
is to be no Court to-day, which is unusual on this day of the
Accession. But I do not know that the Princess's illness is the
cause of it. I intended to have gone to the Drawing Room and have
put on my scarlet, and gold embr(oidery), for the last time. Pierre
I believe has contracted for it already. I cannot learn from any of
your family when you propose to return; I hope in less than three
weeks. I wrote to Lady C(arlisle) yesterday.

I have no thought myself of settling in London, nor am I desirous of
it, while the Thames can be kept in due bounds. At present it is
subdued, and all above is clear after a certain hour, and my house
is the warmest and most comfortable of any; and when I came here to
dinner on Saturday last, having given my servants a day's law,
everything was in as much order, as if I had never left it.

The Duke [of Queensberry] dines with me when he is here, a little
after four, and when we have drank our wine, we resort to his great
Hall,(232) bien eclairee, bien echauffee, to drink our coffee, and
hear Quintettes. The Hall is hung around with the Vandyke pictures (
as they are called), and they have a good effect. But I wish that
there had been another room or gallery for them, that the Hall might
have been without any other ornament but its own proportions. The
rest of the pictures are hanging up in the Gilt Room, and some in a
room on the left hand as you go to that apartment. The Judges hang
in the semicircular passage, which makes one think, that instead of
going into a nobleman's house, you are in Sergeants' Inn.

There is, and will be, a variety of opinions how these portraits
should be placed, and with what correspondence. I have my own, about
that and many other things, which I shall keep to myself. I am not
able to encounter constant dissension. I will have no bile, and so
keep my own opinions for the future about men and things, within my
own breast. I am naturally irritable, and therefore will avoid
irritation; I prefer longevity to it, which I may have without the
other. I have had a letter from Lady Ossory, who is impatient to
tell me all that has passed this summer in her neighbourhood, but
she is afraid of trusting it to a letter. I can pretty well guess
what kind of farce has been acted, knowing the dramatis persons. The
Duke of B(edford?) was to wait on her Grace. . . .

I thought that Boothby had been with you. Mrs. Smith assures me that
you have fine weather, and fine sport; so I wish the fifth-form boy
[Lord Morpeth] had been with you, and his sister Charlotte, to make
and mark his neckcloths.

I hear no more of Eden, but my neighbour Keene's conjectures on his
refusal, which are very vague, et tant soit peu malignes. I expect
more satisfaction to-day from Williams: not that I want really any
information about him. I have already seen and known as much as I
desire of him; he is a man of talents and application, with some
insinuation, and cunning, but I think will never be a good speaker,
or a great man. But what he is I do not care.

My best compliments to the Dean,(233) and Corbet. I have not heard
from you, nor do I expect it. Mrs. Smith says, that sometimes you do
not return till 8 in the evening. Then I suppose que vous mangez de
gran appetit, et que vous dormez apres; so how, and when, am I to
expect a letter? Write or not write, I am satisfied that you are
well, and be you, that I am most truly and affectionately yours.

I shall keep this half sheet for the news I may hear in Town, and as
this letter is not to go till to-morrow.

Thursday m., Cleveland Court.--I met no news in Town when I came,
but the Princess Amelia has at present, in Dr. Warren's(234)
estimation, but a few days to live. If her own wishes were completed
in this respect she must have died yesterday, being on the same day
in October that the late King died. It is a pity that she should not
have been gratified. But she still hopes it will be in this month,
that she may lose no reputation in point of prevoyance, which would
be a pity.

It is not an unnatural thing, with our German family, to make a
rendezvous as to death, and it has in more instances than one been
kept. K(ing) G(eorge) 1st took a final leave of the Princess of
Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, the night before he went to
Hanover for the last time; and the Queen afterwards prophesied that
she should not outlive the year in which she happened to die.

But her R. H. is firm and resigned, and, as Dr. Warren says,
declares herself ready. She flaps her sides as she sits up in her
bed, as a turtle does with its fins, and says, "I am ready, I am
ready."

I heard yesterday that I have lost two other friends, whom I valued
as much, and for the same reason, that their faces were familiar to
me for above five and forty years. I mean little Compton, Bully's
friend and minister, and Sturt of Dorsetshire, both victims to the
gout. I am also told that Sir G. Metham is dying. . . .

Harry Fox is to have a tolerable good fortune with his wife, which I
am glad of. But that she could like his person would amaze me, if I
did not know that, for particular reasons, women will like anything.

(230) Frederick North, afterward fifth Earl of Guildford
(1766-1827), the famous Greek scholar. He was Lord North's third and
youngest son.

(231) Princess Amelia (1783-1810) was the youngest and most beloved
of the children of George III. Always delrcate, the King was
constantly concerned about her, and her dying gift of a ring with a
lock of her hair is said to have helped to bring on his last mental
illness.

(232) Queensberry Villa, which stood by the riverside, was purchased
by the Duke of Queensberry in 1780. It was built by the third Earl
of Cholmondely in 1708, and subsequently became the property of the
Earl of Brooke and Warwick, and then of Sir Richard Lyttleton. It
was purchased by John Earl Spencer for his mother, the Countess
Cowper, on whose death, in 1780, it was sold. The Duke of
Queensberry bequeathed the house to Maria Fagniani (Mie Mie). In
1831 it became the property of and was rebuilt by Sir William
Dundas. The old house was of red brick with a balcony running round
it above the first floor windows. ("The History and Antiquities of
Richmond," by E. B. Chancellor, p. 160.)

(233) Dr. Jeffrey Ekins, Dean of Carlisle (1782-1792).

(234) Richard Warren (1731-1797). The most eminent physician of the
time. He was a man of great ability and judgment. In 1762 he was
appointed physician to George III.


In the summer of 1788 Selwyn was laid up by an illness. "Mr. Selwyn
has been confined in Town by fever and I have not seen him since the
royal progress was intended," wrote Walpole to Lady Ossory in July.
The visit of the royalties to Matson took place later. "Mr. Selwyn,
I do not doubt, is superlatively happy. I am curious to know what
relics he has gleaned from the royal visit that he can bottle up and
place in his sanctum sanctorum." Such was Walpole's news in August
to the same correspondent. Selwyn recovered from his illness, and
left Matson to join the Carlisles. "The Selwyns I do not expect soon
at Richmond for the Carlisles are going to Cheltenham; but so many
loadstones draw him, that I who have no attraction seldom see him."
But in the autumn Walpole could again enjoy his friend's society. For
--as the following letter to Lady Carlisle shows he had returned
to Richmond for a time.


(1788,) November 2, Richmond.--It must seem, dear Lady Carlisle,
very shabby that on this day I do not afford a sheet of gilt paper
for my letter to you, but it is to no purpose giving any other
reason when I have that to give of having none by me. But truth on
plain paper is better than a compliment without sincerity, with all
the vignettes which could be found to adorn it, and nothing can be
truer than that I rejoice at the return of this day, which gave
birth to what I have on so many accounts reason to value and esteem.
I wrote yesterday such a long epistle to Lady Caroline, as would
have worn out anybody's patience but hers. . . .

Miss Gunning(235) is I find at the Park with Mrs. Stewart and
to-morrow morning I shall go in my coach to see her. I wish it were
possible for her to accept a corner in my coach, and go with me to
C(astle) Howard, but I am afraid that it is not. I take for granted
that you have fixed upon the 20th for our setting out, and that you
intend that Lord Morpeth should come to my house the day before,
which will be on Monday fortnight. He wishes to have leave to come
from Eton on Saturday, and, as he has told me in a letter which I
have received from him to-day, he has hinted it to his father. I
promised to second his motion, and I hope it will be complied with.
. . .

I shall remove with my family to town from hence in about ten days.
As yet we have leaf and verdure and air, and the country is very
agreeable. We have a few to associate with, and not too many. Old
Mrs. Crewe is my passion, and her house free from that cohue with
which others are filled; and as we have no connection with those who
make a public place of this situation, I find it a much more private
one than I expected.

The Duke seems for this year to have deserted us. Monsieur de
Calonne engrosses all the time which he can spare from Newmarket.
Frederick St. John's match is, as I am told, at an end. But then the
Duchess of R(utland's) widowhood is just begun. I have lost myself
the opportunity of being his rival. Her Grace was in this house last
summer with me, and alone, but how could I foresee the event which
has since happened? and a survivance at my age could not be thought
an object. I do not hear who are to compose the next Court at the
Castle. You see whom the papers name, and perhaps can say who are
the most likely to go there. . . .

(235) Charlotte Margaret, daughter of Sir Robert Gunning, K.C.B.,
Minister at the Courts of Copenhagen, Berlin, and St. Petersburg.
Miss Gunning, who was Maid of Honour to the Queen, must not be
confused with the two celebrated sisters of an earlier period, or
with Miss Elizabeth Gunning, a well-known and much-talked-of beauty
at this time,

The correspondence from 1788 to the end of Selwyn's life is entirely
with Lady Carlisle. Carlisle himself appears to have been much in
London during that period, and thus in companionship with his old
friend. But letter-writing had become at once a habit and a
necessity. It was--and can always be where there is what he has
called an epanchement de Coeur--an unceasing pleasure and solace.
There is only required pen, paper, and ink, and the last bit of
news, the thought of the moment can be written down and exchanged
with the friend at a distance. It matters not that the letter does
not reach its destination for some time to come. In the transcribing
of the thought, there is the sharing of it with another, and
imagination anticipates its reception.


(1788, November) 20, Thursday, Cleveland Court.(236)--George, you
know, set out on Tuesday, and to-morrow I hope that you will see
him, and as well as when I took leave of him. I will own fairly to
you, that it was some degree 'of anxiety to me, that he had no
servant to go with him so long a journey. . . . When I left him in
Grosvenor Place I came here to write to you a letter, . . . but
condemned it to the flames. This Lord C., with whom I have
breakfasted, has reproved me for: he was sorry that I did not send
it; you should not be left out of the secret, you should know as
much as your neighbours, &c. You shall do so, if I can furnish you
with any intelligence, and although you never tell me anything which
I have not seen before, a fortnight past, in the Gazette, I shall
not use the same reserve with you. I intend to write constantly to
you, or to my Lord, what comes to my knowledge, true or false, and
when I may cite the authors of my news I will, and what I ought to
keep secret I must, but I think that there will be no occasion for
that; I desire to be trusted with no secrets myself. Those who are,
tell them soon enough for me. . . .

The account of the K(ing) this morning in the papers, and which, to
a certain degree, is generally true, is as bad as it can be, and
from such information I dare say, with regard to his health or the
continuance of his disorder, the whole world can have but one and
the same opinion. But I am obliged, I find, to be cautious of saying
in one place what I am ordered to believe from authority in another;
and when I am enquiring or saying anything concerning the present
state of things, I am precisely in the situation of Sir R. de
Coverley, enquiring, when he was a boy, his way to St. Ann's Lane.
Nothing, it is supposed, will be said to-day in either House. We
shall meet about three or four, and agree to adjourn, about which I
hope and presume there will be no difference of opinion. Lord
C(arlisle) thinks that there will not, and that the adjournment will
be for a fortnight.

To-day, I have heard, is fixed upon to speak reason to One who has
none. Dr. Warren, in some set of fine phrases, is to tell his
Majesty that he is stark mad, and must have a straight waistcoat. I
am glad that I am not chosen to be that Rat who is to put the bell
about the Cat's neck. For if it should be pleased (sic) God to
forgive our transgressions, and restore his Majesty to his senses,
for he can never have them again till we grow better, I suppose,
according to the opinion of Churchmen, who are perfectly acquainted
with all the dispensations of Providence, and the motive of his
conduct; I say, if that unexpected period arrives, I should not like
to stand in the place of that man who has moved such an Address to
the Crown. If the Dr. should, as it was told me, say simply that he
must be under government, the K. will not be surprised at what, bon
gre, mal gre, has happened to him so often. But what happens, when
it comes to my knowledge, I will write it, and something or other I
shall write to C(astle) H. every day. . . .

(236) This and all succeeding letters are written to Lady Carlisle


(1788, Nov. 26?) Wednesday m(orning).--I have had the infinite
pleasure of receiving your letter this morning, so I shall write to
you to-day, and not to Lord C., and I am the more glad to do so,
because I think it but fair, as you have married him for better, for
worse, that you should divide my nonsense and importunity between
you. Je laisse courir ma plume, which would be abominable and
indiscreet, if I was not writing to one who is used to hear me say a
thousand things which he attributes to passion and perverseness, and
is not for that the less my friend. Then I like, when my mind and
heart are full, and I cannot open the budget before him, to
evaporate upon paper, which provokes no tart reply. I wish that we
were agreed upon every point of consideration in the Grand
Affair(237) which occupies the whole country, so naturally, but I am
afraid that we are not, yet he will not be angry with me. For when I
change my mind, or my rage is abated, it will be more from cool and
friendly advice from him than from anybody, and to make me, as I
have told him, quite reconciled to measures. I must, besides, seeing
they have not all the evil tendency which I expect, be persuaded
that he will be considered as he ought to be, and that they think
one person of character, as well as rank, is no disparagement to
their connection, but on the contrary will give some credit to it. I
shall say no more to you upon this matter.

The K. is so much in the same state he was, and there is so little
appearance of any immediate change, that I am not, for the present,
solicitous about it. There must be a new Government I see, and it
may be a short or a lasting one, for it will, or ought to depend
entirely upon his Majesty's state of mind. For my own part I am free
to confess, that if I only see his hat upon the Throne, and ready to
be put upon his head, when he can come and claim it, and nothing in
the intermediate time done to disgrace and fetter him, as in the
[year] 1782, I shall be satisfied. It is a sad time indeed, and if
the Arch(bishop)p pleases, I will call it by his affect(ted?)
phrase, an awful moment.

I pity the poor Queen, as you do, most excessively, and for her
sake, I hope that a due respect will be paid to the K., and while he
and she were grudged every luxury in the world, by those mean
wretches Burke, Gilbert,(238) and Lansdown, all kind of profusion is
not thought of to captivate his R(oyal) H(ighness).(239) In short, I
shall be glad, if his Majesty has lost his head, to hear that the P.
has found it. I have given him as yet more credit than I would own,
for I will not be accused of paying my court to him while, I say, I
see the K.'s hat only upon the Throne.

I know that you will say that I am heated with a zeal that in three
months' time may be out of fashion. It may be so; but I rather
believe myself that this misfortune will add greatly to the
veneration which the public has of late had for his Majesty, and
make it more necessary for his successor to be cautious with whom
and how he acts. He has beau jeu, I hope he will make a right use of
it. The K. will be soon removed and in a carrosse bourgeoise but
whether to the Q(ueen's) House or to Kew I cannot learn for certain.
I should prefer Kew, if the physicians did not by that sacrifice too
much of the care which is due in their profession to the public.

I cannot get sight of the D.,(240) the P(rince) will have him to
himself. I am now confined; my cough must be attended to, or it will
increase, and perhaps destroy me. Mie Mie is an excellent nurse, and
a most reasonable girl indeed. If her mother was so, I should hear
no more of her. But there will be still du management necessaire a
avoir; however, I have no fears of the issue of it.

Mie Mie, I believe, will be glad, when your L(ad)y (ship) comes to
town, to go to the Chapel with Lady Caroline; you will tell me tout
bonnement if you should have any objection; a tout evenement she
will have a pew somewhere. She can no longer support the idea of
belonging to no communion, that en fait de salut she should be ni
chair ni poisson. She pleases me in that, and I shall be completely
happy to see her established in the Protestant religion, provided
that it is her own desire. But my profession is not that of making
converts, et je ne veux me charger de fame de personne.

My dearest William,(241) pray mind your Billiards; whatever you do,
do not apply to it slovenly, wish success In it, and be so good, for
my sake, as to love reading; you may entertain me, if you do, with a
thousand pretty stories of Hector and his wife, of Romulus and
Remus, and at last we may come to talk together of M. de St. Simon.
Learn to make a pen, and write a very large clean hand, and then I
shall love you, if possible, more than I do at present.

Frederick,(242) what would I give to see you Regent with a Council,
and Tany that Council. You say nothing to me of Lizy or Gertrude; my
love to them.

George must certainly be grown, but I do not perceive it. I perceive
that he is strong and well, and I hope he will have a great deal of
hunting, sans etre trop temeraire. My hearty love to Lady Caroline.
Mie Mie and I have not laid aside the thoughts of that which is so
connected with our wishes and affections, but I see no immediate
prospect of doing or hearing anything one likes as yet.

I was in hopes that when Lord C. came here next, you and the family
would come with him. I cannot bear the thoughts of not seeing you
till after Christmas. The winter will appear terrible (sic) long to
me, who have so little pleasure here besides that of going in a
morning to Grosvenor Place?(243)

To-day I have a bill sent me of 100 pounds 12 shillings 0 pence.
laid out for the poor King, who ordered me to bespeak for him the
best set which I could get of the glass dishes and basons for his
dessert. The Regency may perhaps not want them, thinking that they
have no occasion for any dessert, and that they can do without it:
perhaps so, nous verrons. Old Begum, as they call her, is more
absurd, I hear, than ever.

I was sorry that I could not dine yesterday at Whitehall, but I
shall not dine out of my room for some time. Wine is my destruction,
with the cold that I endure after it. I shall keep myself, if I can,
from any complaint that will prevent my going to Parliament. The
rat-catchers are going about with their traps, but they shall not
have a whisker of mine.

Lord C. sets out you say on Monday next; then I shall see him, I
suppose, on Wednesday; he will not hurry up as he did down, and then
I am afraid I shall hardly get access to him. Charles you know is
come; I have not heard anything more of him. The papers say that
Pitt and the Chan(cell)or(244) went to Windsor together in one
chaise, and he and Dr. Graham(245) in another. I want to know, how
he has relished Sheridan's(246) beginning a negotiation without him.
I have figured him, if it be true, saying to him, at his arrival, as
Hecate does to the Witches in Macbeth, "Saucy and (over) bold, how
did you dare to trade and traffic, &c., and I, the mistress of your
charms, the close contriver of all harms, was never called to bear
my part," &c. I will not (go) on to the rest of the passage,(247)
for fear of offending. I hope that I shall not have offended you by
anything which I have said; if I do not, you shall hear from me as
often as you please. Be only persuaded that I am most truly and
devotedly yours.

(237) The question of the Regency during the King's illness.

(238) Thomas Gilbert (1720-1798); known for his reform of the poor
laws.

(239) The Prince of Wales. ||'

(240) Duke of Queensberry, who at this juncture, though a member of
the King's Household, markedly allied himself with the Prince of
Wales's party.

(241) Second son of Lord Carlisle, born December 25, 1781, died
January 25, 1843.

(242) Third son of Lord Carlisle, Major 10th Hussars, killed at
Waterloo.

(243) Lord Carlisle's town residence'

(244) Lord Thurlow.

(245) Dr. Graham (1745-1794); a noted quack doctor. Returning from
America, he claimed to have learned marvellous electrical cures from
Franklin, and advertised impossible discoveries; he declared he
could impart the secret of living beyond the natural span of life.
He became fashionable, received testimonials from many well-known
persons, and occupied part of Schomberg House, Pall Mall, where
Gainsborough had his studio.

(246) Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816).

(247) "Or show the glory of our art?
 And, which is worse, all you have done
 Hath been but for a wayward son,
 Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you."
(Act 3, scene 5.)


(1788, Dec. 4?) Thursday morning.--I begin my letter to you this
morning, and at an early hour, before I can have been informed of
anything, but I do so to shew you that I am impatient to obey your
commands, and that I intend to write to you as often as I can pick
up anything which I think will interest or amuse you; in which I
shall not forget that George and Caroline are now of an age to take
some parts in public affairs. What is of a more solemn and profound
nature and secrecy, such as the deliberations of the Cabinet, that
you will learn from those who will relate them to you with more
precision and authenticity. Of these, if anything transpires to me,
it must be through Jack Payne,(248) Lord Lothian,(249) or Trevis,
and these are such confused and uncertain channels that there will
be no dependence upon the veracity of them. Ils ne laissent pas
pourtant de donner leur avis de temps en temps, et d'en parler
apres, a ce que j'ai oui dire. So that de cote ou d'autre you are
sure to know something, and perhaps what may not come to the
knowledge of those who furnish materials for the daily papers.

The K. is undoubtedly in a state in which he may remain, and a
deplorable one it is; deplorable and deplored, I believe, by every
honest and feeling man in this country. But he has now a comfort
which, as the poet says, none but madmen know. You, nor any
belonging to you, I hope in God will ever know what it is; but he
diverts himself now, as I hear, without his reason, precisely in the
same manner as I have seen the children do, before they had any, and
from this account you will have a just conception of his present
state.

There was a meeting last night at Lord Sydney's,(250) and another at
the Cockpitt, and what was said and done the public papers will, I
doubt not, more fully relate than I can. I could not stir out or see
anybody after Lord Carlisle, who dined with me, went away, except
the Duke, who now sups every night with H.R.H. and his Brother(251)
at Mrs. Fitzherbert's,(252) and is so good as to call here before he
goes.

This cough which I have now has confined me to my room every since
last Monday was sevennight, and has for the time been more severe
than any which I have ever had. I could not be permitted to lose any
blood till yesterday, which I am surprised at, and sorry for too,
for I think that if I had been blooded a week ago the effect would
have been more than I find it to be yet. I must keep at home.
Blisters are recommended, but as they are sometimes attended with
painful complaints, so I cannot submit to them. In other respects I
am perfectly well, and in spirits.

H.R.H. has been so good as to enquire after my health of the Duke,
and I have desired him to say, that I find myself better, and am
told that I may go out in a few days. I think it is most likely that
I shall. I wish it were as likely that poor Corbet came in for
something or other that would render his situation more comfortable
to him.

My Lord tells me that he has had Zenks to dine with him, which T
shall undoubtedly quote as a precedent, whenever my friends now in
Government shall think it right to bring forward in Parliament the
Recovery of his Majesty's Reason. I must own, my dear Lady C., that
I think that you had all of you too much courage in allowing of that
visit, and especially at dinner, amongst all the knives and forks. I
believe, if I had been there, I should have hemmed in all the
children with the chairs, as a chevaux de frise, and placed myself
before them with the poker in my hand.

Lord C. looks very well, and seems in great but modest glee. I hope
at least to have the comfort of seeing him gratified, and when I
know how, I intend to write George a letter, who will believe, I am
sure, that in that instance, if in no other, I shall lay aside party
prejudices, and rejoice with him.

I had laid aside my paper, and intended to have wrote no more till
somebody came to me to give me new information. But I have had my
apothecary at my bedside, who has been giving me an account of the
examination of the physicians by the Privy Council.(253) The
physicians, one and all, declared his Majesty to be, at present,
unfit for public business; but when Mr. Burke, who was a leading
man, and the most forward in asking questions, put this to them,
whether there was any hope of his Majesty's recovering, they did not
scruple to say that they had more reason to hope it than not. Dr.
Warren was the most unwilling to subscribe to this opinion, but did
not refuse his assent to it. It was, to be sure, the answer which
Mr. Burke wished and expected. He told me that the Party, as he
heard, is very angry with Mr. Fox, and will not believe the
indisposition, which confines him to his bed, not to be a feigned
one.

This is my apothecary's news, but if it was the barber's only, I
should tell it to you. I wish to find it all true, but not a little
also that Mr. F(ox) has displeased some of his friends; for if he
has, and that should not be Lord Carlisle, I shall have the better
opinion of him. Lord C. has held out to me, in his last letter, the
language of a man of sense, of honour, and of feeling, but the
misfortune is that all he says, from the sincerity of his mind and
heart, will be adapted (adopted?) by those who have not one of his
qualities, and yet are compelled to talk as he does, to serve their
own purposes.

As to Mr. Fox, although I am at variance with him, and am afraid
shall for ever be so, for reasons which I do not choose now to urge,
although I am determined never to be connected with him by the least
obligation, I am free to confess that I am naturally disposed to
love him, and to do justice to every ray of what is commendable in
him; and I will go so far as to protest, that, if he acts upon this
occasion with a decent regard to the K(ing), and his just
prerogatives, I will endeavour to erase out of my mind all that he
has done contrary to his duty, and "would mount myself the rostrum"
in his favour. To gain his pardon from the people would be now
unnecessary, that is, with some of them; with the best of them, I
know it would be impossible.

Lord North's speech I shall be very impatient to read, for hear, I
fear, that I shall not; I see little probability of my going out for
some time. I wish that I had gone from Matson to Castle H.; I might
perhaps be there now, and have escaped this martyrdom. You say
nothing of your coming here, and will not, I daresay, come the
sooner, for my impatience to see you and the children. I must live
upon that unexpected pleasure; but whom I shall collect to eat my
minced pies on William's birthday, I do not as yet know.

The business of Parliament does not begin till Monday; till then, it
will be nothing but hearsay, speculation, &c., &c. Some tell me that
the present Ministry is determined to try the number of those who
will support them, and are not afraid of being overrun with Rats;
nous verrons. Lord Stafford(254) was to have come to me yesterday,
when the Council was up, but it was too late.

(248) Captain John Willett Payne, known as "Jack Payne," was
secretary to the Prince of Wales.

(249) The Marquis of Lothian (1737-1815) belonged to the "fast set."
He commanded the first regiment of Life Guards, and was a favourite
of George III., whom he deserted at the division caused by his first
attack of insanity; at the King's recovery he was transferred to
another regiment.

(250) T. Townsend.

(251) Frederick, Duke of York.

(252) Mrs. Fitzherbert (1756-1837). It was the occasion of much
curiosity during her life and after if she were legally the wife of
the Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV. The marriage took place
in her own house, her brother and uncle being present; a clergyman
of the Church of England performed the ceremony. But by the Marriage
Act of 1772 a marriage by a member of the Royal Family under
twenty-five, without the King's consent, was invalid, and by the Act
of Settlement a marriage by the heir-apparent to a Roman Catholic
was also invalid. In 1787 the Prince, in order to obtain money from
Parliament, without doubt gave Fox authority to deny the marriage in
the House of Commons, though he pretended great indignation toward
Fox to Mrs. Fitzherbert. On the Prince's marriage to the Princess
Caroline, Mrs. Fitzherbert ceased for a time to live with him, but
acting on the advice of her confessor, returned to him, and gave a
breakfast to announce it to the fashionable world, where she was a
favourite. About 1803 she broke off all connection with the Prince,
retiring from the Court with an annuity of 6,000 pounds. George IV.
wore her portrait until his death; her good influence over him was
recognised by George III. and the Royal Family, who always treated
her with consideration.

(253) The examination on oath of the five physicians in attendance
on the King took place by direction of Pitt on December 3rd, the day
before the meeting of Parliament. Fifty-four members were present.

(254) The Lord Gower of the preceding correspondence.



Between the following and the preceding letter events had moved
rapidly in France. The National Assembly had been formed to be
changed into the Constituent Assembly, the tricolour had sprung into
existence, and the Bastille fallen. The Declaration of the Rights of
Man had been promulgated. But Selwyn's information upon the state of
France was not very accurate.


(1788, Dec. 5?)--Postscript. Good God, Lady C., what have I done?
Mie Mie wrote a letter yesterday to her mother; I was to put it in
the same envelope with' my own. They were only to thank her for
hers, which the Comte d'Elci(255) brought me from her, enquiring
after Mie Mie's health. To-day I find Mie Mie's letter on my table.
I shall send it by the next post, but I am afraid that I put into my
envelope a sheet which was intended for Lord Carlisle. Pray ask him
if he had two sheets, or what he had. I am in hopes that, par
distraction, it was only a sheet of blank paper. Yet that I did not
intend neither; she shall have no carte blanche from me. I am
miserable about this. What makes me hope that it was not part of my
rhapsody to Lord C. is, that generally my sheets to him are
barbouilled on all the sides, and I know there was nothing of that.
Tirez-moi de mon incertitude, si vous le pouvez,

Lord Stafford has just been with me. He says that he had a letter
from Windsor this morning. The K. passed a quieter night, but I do
not find out that he is less to-day what we are obliged to call him
now. It is a new event, and a new language never heard before in the
Court. Me de Maintenon would say, "Heavens! Do I live to call Louis
14 an object of pity?" You remember that pretended letter of hers,
which was said to be dropped out of Me de Torcy's pocket at the
Hague. (Do I live) to speak of my master at last as a lunatic(?)
--Burke walking at large, and he in a strait waistcoat! Charles
wrote a letter to the Prince the day he came. He wrote it about
noon, and at one the next morning he received his R.H. answer. I
wish Craufurd would pick it out of his pocket to shew me.

There may be another adjournment, as I am told. Business can be
suspended a little longer. If supplies are wanted much in some
places, they can be postponed in others. So the Cardinal de
Rohan(256) is then chosen President of the States,(257) is that the
phrase? But he is chosen President toujours of the notables,(258) or
something. This I had last night from the Marquis de Hautefort.(259)
What this Marquis and Grand d'Espagne has to do out of France at
this time I have as yet to learn. I see that I am to have the
introduction of him everywhere. He thinks me a man d'une grande
existence dans ce pais. He says that I am lie avec M. Pitt; he wants
me to present him to him. He fancies that the P(rince) has a convert
here whenever he pleases. It is my singular fate for ever to pass
for something which I am not, nor cannot be, nor desire to be
--sometimes indeed for what I should be ashamed to be. But I am used
to this. On se trompe, on se detrompe, et on se trompe encore. I do
not find, au bout du compte, that it signifies anything. With one's
friends one must be known, tot ou tard, to be exactly what we are.

(255) Angelo, Comte d'Elci, born in Florence in 1764, an, Italian
philologist and archaeologist. He died in 1824.

(256) Louis-Rene-Edouard, Prince de Rohan (1734-1803). In 1760, soon
after taking orders, he was nominated coadjutor to his uncle,
Constantin de Rohan, Archbishop of Strasburg and Bishop of Canopus;
in 1761 elected member of the Academy; in 1772 ambassador to Vienna
on the question of the dismemberment of Poland; in 1777 made Grand
Almoner of France; in 1778 Abbot of St. Vaast and cardinal; in 1779
succeeded his uncle as Archbishop of Strasburg, and became Abbot of
Noirmoutiers and La Chaise. He led a gay, luxurious, and extravagant
life rather than performed his clerical duties; he had political
ambitions, but he was never able to overcome the predisposition
against him with which Marie Antoinette had come to France. He was a
dupe of Cagliostro, and of Mme. de Lamotte-Valois, the adventuress
who, in 1782, drew him into the intrigue of the diamond necklace,
for which he was sent to the Bastille, and which gave him the name
of le cardinal Collier; he was acquitted in 1786, and in 1789
elected to the States-General; in 1791 he refused to take the oath
to the Constitution, and went to Ettenheim in the German part of his
province, where he died on the 17th of February, 1803.

(257) The States-General did not open until May 5, 1789.

(258) The Convocation of the Notables took place the 19th of
December.

(259) Armand Charles Emmanuel, Comte de Hautefort, was born in
1741; he bore the title of Grand d'Espagne through his marriage in
1761 with the Comtesse de Hochenfels de Bavere Grand d'Espagne de la
premiere classe.


Richmond of to-day, with its villas and streets, a town of houses
occupied by professional and business men who spend their life in
London, is unlike the gay and lively resort of the last days of the
eighteenth century. Then the elite of the fashionable society of
England gathered on the hill and by the river as people now do on
the Riviera or in Cairo. "Richmond is in the first request this
summer," so wrote Walpole in the very year at which we have now
arrived. "Mrs. Bouverie is settled there with a large Court. The
Sheridans are there too, and the Bunburys. I go once or twice a week
to George Selwyn late in the evening when he comes in from walking;
about as often to Mrs. Ellis here and to Lady Cecilia at Hampton."
Once in Richmond men and women stayed there walking, talking, and
calling on each other, sometimes driving into London, but enjoying
it as a residence, not as a mere resort for an evening's pleasure.
Selwyn communicated the news of Richmond to his country friends as
one does in these days when at some German Spa. It may seem to us,
to whom so many opportunities of enjoyment of all kinds and in all
parts of the world are open, a tame kind of life to spend days and
nights strolling about a London suburb, attending assemblies,
playing at cards, with now and then a visit to town or a row on the
river. But our ancestors were necessarily limited in their
pleasures, and to them Richmond was a God-send, especially to men
like Selwyn, or Queensberry, or Walpole, who delighted in social
intercourse, and liked to enjoy what they called rustic life with as
much comfort as the age provided. Something of this life we have
learned from Walpole's and Miss Berry's letters, but no truer
picture of it can be found than in the last letters of Selwyn. To
the ordinary habitues of Richmond, however, there were in 1789 and
1790 added a throng of French ladies and gentlemen. Driven from
their agreeable salons in Paris, they endeavoured to make the best
of life among their English friends at Richmond. Exiled among a
people whose language few of them could understand, they' received
little of the hospitality which had been so freely extended to
English visitors in Paris. It was the last and a sad scene in that
remarkable intercourse between the most cultivated people of England
and France which is one characteristic of the society of both
nations in the eighteenth century. This entente was destroyed by the
French Revolution. Selwyn, who had figured in this international
society more than most men of the age, lived to tell of its last
days in the letters which he wrote during the two final years of his
life.


(1789, Aug. 21?) Friday night, Richmond.--I did not come hither till
to-day, because I was resolved to stay to see the Duke(260) set out,
which he did this morning for Newmarket, from whence he goes with
his doctor to York. He said that he should not go to Castle Howard,
which I looked upon as certain as that the Princes will be there. It
would have been in vain to have held out to him the temptation of
seeing his goddaughter, and I know that, if I had suggested it, he
would have laughed at me, which would have made me angry, who think
Gertrude(261) an object worth going at least sixteen miles to see.

He was in very good spirits when he left London; and in
extraordinary good humour with me. But he would not have me depend,
he said, upon his going to Scotland, although he has, sent as many
servants in different equipages as if he intended to stay there a
twelvemonth. It was quite unnecessary to prepare me against any kind
of irresolution of his. After all, I hope that he will go to Castle
Howard. I believe it is just five and thirty years since we were
there together, and all I know is, that I did not think then that I
should ever see it so well furnished as I have since, and I will
maintain that Gertrude is not the least pretty meuble that is there.

I was so unsettled while I was in London that I did not even send to
make enquiries about your brother or Lady Southerland. I could not
have made their party if I had been sure of their being in town. Sir
R. and Lady Payne are at Lambeth. They propose coming to dine here
in a few days.

I dined with Crowle and the younger Mr. Fawkner yesterday at the
Duke's, and asked them many questions about poor Delme's affairs,
and concerning Lady Betty. I hear that Lady Julia has been much
affected with this accident. He had persuaded himself that he should
die, although either Dr. Warren saw no immediate danger, or thought
proper not to say so. The French, as I said before, have good reason
to say that il n'est permis qu'aux medecins de mentir, and Delme
certainly justified the deception, if there was any; but he had at
last more fortitude or resolution as I hear than was expected. I
hope that Lady Betty will be reconciled to her change of life; there
must have been one inevitably, and, perhaps, that not less
disagreeable.

I am unhappy that I have not yet received any account of Caroline.
Mr. Woodhouse has returned my visit. I did not conceive it to be
proper that Mie Mie should wait upon Mrs. Bacon till an opportunity
had been offered of her being presented to her, but I shall be
desirous of bringing about that acquaintance. Mrs. Webb is now with
us, which is a piece of furniture here, not without its use, and
which I am in a habit of seeing with more satisfaction than perhaps
Mie Mie, who begins to think naturally a gouvernante to have a
mauvais air. I am not quite of that opinion dans les circonstances
actuelles.

No more news as yet from France. I expect to have a great deal of
discourse on Tuesday with St. Foy, on the subject of this
Revolution, which occupies my mind very much, although I have still
a great deal of information to acquire. It may be peu de chose, but,
as yet, I know no more than that the House of Bourbon, with the
noblesse francoise, their revenues and privileges, are in a manner
annihilated by a coup de main, as it were, and after an existence of
near a thousand years; and if you are now walking in the streets of
Paris, ever so quietly, but suspected or marked as one who will not
subscribe to this, you are immediately accroche a la Lanterne: tout
cela m'est inconcevable. But we are I am sure at the beginning only
of this Roman, instead of seeing the new Constitution so quietly
established by the first of September, as I have been confidently
assured that it will be.

Preparations were certainly making here for her Majesty the Queen of
France's(262) reception, and I am assured that if the King had not
gone as he did to the Hotel de Ville, the Duke of Orleans(263) would
immediately have been declared Regent. There seems some sort of
fatality in the scheme of forming (sic) a Regent, who, in neither of
the two kingdoms, is destine a ne pas arrive a bon part.

But one word more of Delme. I am told that if Lady Betty and Lady
J(ulia) live together, they will not have less than two thousand a
year to maintain their establishment, including what the Court of
Chancery will allow for the guardianship of the children. That will
be more comfortable at least than living in the constant dread of
the consequences of a heedless dissipation.

It was conjectured that Lord C(arlisle) would bring Mr. Greenville
in for Morpeth, which, if it be so, I shall be very glad to hear.
Crowle says that the cook is one of the best servants of the kind
that can be, and would go to Lord C. if he wanted one, for sixty
pounds a year, par preference to any other place with larger wages.
I was desired to mention this; it may be to no purpose.

The King, as I hear, is not expected to be at Windsor till
Michaelmas. I received a letter to-day in such a hand as you never
beheld, from Sir Sampson Gideon, now Sir S. Eardley, a name I never
heard of before, to dine with him to-morrow at his house in Kent. I
was to call at his house in Arlington Street, and there to be
informed of the road, and to be three hours and a half in going it.
It was to meet Mr. Pitt, and to eat a turtle: quelle chere! The
turtle I should have liked, but how Mr. Pitt is to be dressed I
cannot tell. The temptation is great, I grant it, but I have had so
much self-denial as to send my excuses. You will not believe it,
perhaps, but a Minister, of any description, although served up in
his great shell of power, and all his green fat about him, is to me
a dish by no means relishing, and I never knew but one in my life I
could pass an hour with pleasantly, which was Lord Holland. I am
certain that if Lord C(arlisle) had been what he seemed to have had
once an ambition for, I should not have endured him, although I
might perhaps have supported his measures.

You desired me to write to you often. You see, dear Lady Carlisle,
toute l'inclination que j'y porte, et que, vraisem(bla)blement, si
vous souhaitez d'avoir de mes lettres, une certaine provision de
telles fadaises ne vous manquera pas. But I must hear myself from
Caroline, or nothing will satisfy me; as yet I have not her
direction, and so bad is my memory now, that this morning I could
not even be sure if Stackpoole Court was near Milford Haven,
Liverpool, or Milbourn Port. I do not comprehend how I could
confound these three places, or be so depaise in regard to the
geography of this island.

(260) Of Queensberry.

(261) Third daughter of the Earl of Carlisle, married W. Sloane
Stanley, Esq.

(262) Marie Antoinette.

(263) Louis Philippe Joseph, Duc d'Orleans (1747-1793). As the Duc
de Chartres he pretended to the philosophical opinions of the
eighteenth century, but followed the dissolute customs of the
Regency. Marie Antoinette never attempted to overcome or conceal her
aversion to him, which helped to divide the Court. On the death of
his father in 1785 he came into the title of the Duc d'Orleans.
Interpolating the King at the famous royal sitting of the 19th of
November, 1787, which he attended as a member of the Assembly of
Notables, he was exiled to Villers Cotterets; in four months he
returned and bought the good will of the journals by money and of
the populace by buying up provisions and feeding them at public
tables; he was nominated President of the National Assembly but
refused the post; he attempted to corrupt the French guards, and so
serious were the charges brought against him that La Fayette
demanded of the King that he should be sent from the country. He
went accordingly to England on a fictitious mission in October of
1789. He returned in eight months to be received with acclamation by
the Jacobins, who were, however, themselves irritated at the
coolness by which he voted for the death of his cousin, Louis XVI.
in 1792; he was present at the execution, which he beheld unmoved,
driving from the scene in a carriage drawn by six horses to spend
the night in revelry at Raincy, but the title Egalite, which the
Commune of Paris had authorised him to assume for himself and his
descendants, did not save him from the same fate. The Convention
ordered the arrest of all the members of the Bourbon family, and he
was guillotined the 6th of November, 1793. The Duc de Chartres
visited England in 1779 and was intimate with the Prince of Wales;
on his return he introduced in France the English race meetings,
jockeys, and dress. It was said that the Prince of Wales, on hearing
of his conduct at the execution of the King, tore into pieces his
portrait which he had left him.



(1789, Aug.) 27, Thursday noon, Richmond.--I have received yours
this morning, and a very fine morning it is, and made still more
agreeable to me by your letter, which I have seated myself under my
great tree to thank you for. I have no doubt but every one who
passes by will perceive, if they turn their eyes this way, that I am
occupied with something which pleases me extremely. It is a great
part of my delight, and of Mie Mie's too, that we shall see you so
soon. ... It would have been a great satisfaction to me to have been
able to have accommodated Miss Gunning, and to have had her company
with us at C(astle) H(oward). . . . I have had a letter from Lady
Caroline.(264) I have directed my letters to her at Stackpole Court,
Milford Haven. . . .

I received at the same time with hers a letter from Lord Carlisle,
who, as he says, finds it necessary to Recommend Gregg, for the
remainder of this Parliament, to the borough of Morpeth. I should
have been glad that the return could have been of the same person,
Whoever he may be, who is designed to represent it at the ensuing
and general election. To be sure it seldom happens que l'on meurt in
all respects fort a propos, and this death of poor Mr. Delme is, as
much as it regards Lord Carlisle, an evident proof of it.

Sir R. Payne and Lady Payne and Sir C. Bunbury intend dining here
to-morrow.

Mr. Saintefoy, with Storer, dined here yesterday, but informed me of
nothing new concerning France. We talked the matter over very fully,
and it was very satisfactory to me, what I learned from Mr.
Saintefoy upon the Revolution and the causes of it; and now I think
the constitution of that country, as it has happened in others, will
be quite new modelled, and that the new adopted plan, after a time,
will be so much established as that there will be, probably, no
return, if ever, for ages, of the old Constitution, unless produced
by the chapter of accidents, to which all human things are liable.

I should have gone to town to-morrow to have taken leave of your
brother, but this intended visit from Sir R. and Lady Payne will
prevent me. I was not in the least aware that during the week of the
York Races your Ladyship would be alone, and am therefore much vexed
that Mie Mie and I are not at C(astle) H. at this moment. It was
indeed what came into her head, and very properly; but the idea of
running foul upon his R(oyal) H(ighness) (to use a sea term) was
what prevented me from taking the measures which I should otherwise
have taken. Lord C(arlisle) will leave C(astle) H., as I understand
by his letter, on Saturday sevennight. I hope then to be at C(astle)
H. by the time that he goes.

I am glad, for George's sake, that Lord H(olland)(265) has been with
you, but you could not be surprised to find, in one of that family,
a disposition to loquacity. He is, I believe, a very good boy, and
his tutor is, they say, a very sensible man; but he has a most
hideous name, and if you do not know how to spell it, I, for my
part, can with difficulty pronounce it, the sound of it being so
near something else.

(264) Lady Caroline Howard was married to John Campbell, after first
Lord Cawdor, on July 28, 1789.

(265) Henry Richard Vassall Fox, third Baron Holland (1773-1840).
The nephew of Charles Fox. He was imbued by his uncle with liberal
opinions, which he upheld throughout his life. On the death of Fox
in 1807 he became Lord Privy Seal in the Grenville Ministry. In 1830
he was Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster in the Reform Cabinet of
Lord Grey. It was he and his wife, whom he married in 1797, who gave
to Holland House a world-wide celebrity as a gathering place of
eminent people. In Selwyn's lifetime he was only a youth.


(1789,) September 3, Thursday, Richmond.--I am vexed to find, by the
letter which I have had the pleasure to receive to-day, that I am
expected to be at C(astle) H(oward) on Saturday, when I do not set
out till Sunday, so that, as I told Lord C. in my last, which he
should receive to-day, I shall not be there till Wednesday. I am
dilatory and procrastinating in my nature, but am not apt to defer
what, when done, will make me so happy as I shall be at C(astle) H.,
and should not have been so now, if I had been more early apprised
of your wish to have our journey accelerated.

I am very glad that H.R.H. was pleased with C(astle) H(oward). I am
sure, that if he had not been so, he would have been difficile a
contenter. But yet, it is a doubt with me, if he and I are equally
delighted with the same objects. It is not that I expect others to
love and admire your children as I do. There is a great deal in the
composition of that; but he might if he pleased have pleasures of
the same nature, but he seems to have set so little value upon
resources of that kind, that I am afraid we shall never see any of
H.R.H.'s progeny, and that this country must live upon what is
called the quick stock for some years to come. I wish that it had
happened that he had dined at Castle H. to-day, and have celebrated
Caroline's birthday, which Mie Mie and I shall do here in a less
sumptuous manner.

I was yesterday morning at Mrs. Bacon's door, nay further, for the
servant said that she was at home, and I was carried into the
parlour, but there it ended; Mrs. B. was dressing, and I could not
see her, I left word with the servant that I was going into the
North, where in a little time I should see Mr. Campbell,(266) and to
receive her commands relative to him was the object of my visit. I
must now leave this place without having made any progress in her
acquaintance, or in that of her niece. All this you will, I know,
put to Caroline's account, and indeed you may, for the talk of her
was the pleasure which I had promised myself by both these visits.

So Lord C., I find, sets out to-day for N(aworth), and would not go
to Wentworth. I cannot wonder at his preference. That you went is
compliment enough, in my opinion. I shall ask George, when I see
him, if he had any hand in penning the Address to His R(oyal)
H(ighness), or in the answer. I shall desire also to know of him, if
I am to approve of it. All I know of the times is what I am informed
of by the World, which perhaps, like other worlds, is full of lies.
It is equal to me; I am very little interested in it, at present;
nay, if I was Argus, who by taking that title would make us believe
that he saw and knew more, I should be only more satiated, and see
more of what I dislike.

The French politics, as they move me less, suit me better; but of
these I begin to be tired, and shall for my amusement revert to more
ancient times. The history of the Bourbons is become thread-bare,
and their lustre too is extinguished, as suddenly as that of a
farthing candle. This Revolution is by no means unprecedented, but
being transacted in our own times, and so near our own doors,
strikes us the more forcibly.

To-morrow we shall go to town, and that, and the next day will be
taken up in our preparatives. It was not so formerly; an expedition
was fitted out at a much less expense, and in a shorter time. But a
journey of above five hundred miles strikes us at present as a great
undertaking. But after we shall have left Barnet, I know much of
this will vanish, and I shall think of nothing but of my gate, and
of all whom I shall see in a few days after. I will bring down the
maps which you mention, and other things, if I knew which would be
most acceptable to them, but as they will never tell me, I can but
conjecture.

You do not say anything of the D(uke) of Y(ork); perhaps he was not
well enough to be of all the parties. We have here, for our pride,
and amusement, the third brother,(267) who drives about in his
phaeton, with his companion, bespeaks plays, and seems to have taken
Richmond under his immediate patronage. A report has been spread
here that Mrs. F(itzherbert) has obtained leave to come and lodge at
the next door. I hope that that will not be the case, for her own
sake, as well as ours.

I thank William for his letter, although he tells me little more
than that he is my affectionate W. Howard. He may be assured that he
has from me at least an equal return. Of Gertrude he says nothing,
and yet, I am confident, the P(rince) did not overlook her. My
hearty love to them all, and to Lady Caroline if you write to her.

I read yesterday a little Latin poem upon a Mouse Trap, with which I
was most highly delighted; wrote near a century ago, by a Mr.
Holdsworth. It has been much celebrated, but never fell into my
hands before yesterday. There is a great eloge upon the Cambrians,
but whether Mr. Campbell would be flattered with it I am not sure.
If I did not suppose it to be no more a curiosity than was the
Blossom of the Chestnut Tree, with which I was so struck the
beginning of the summer, I should bring it with me. There is a
translation of it in English verse, that is little short of the
original. Dear Lady Carlisle, adieu. I never know when to leave off
when I am writing to you, nor how to express the affection and
esteem with which I am ever yours.

(266) Afterwards married to Lady Caroline.

(267) William, Duke of Clarence.


(1789,) Oct. 22, Thursday, Matson.--We arrived here yesterday at
four in the afternoon from Crome.(268) We left there a very fine
day, which grew worse every hour, and before we got to the garden
gate it was as bad and uncomfortable as possible. Mr. Bligh would
have said unprofitable, and perhaps with truth, for I see no
advantage in having come here, and shall be very glad to find no ill
consequences from it. We found to receive us, Dr. Warner, who had
been here almost a week, and another gentleman who was come to dine
with me, and both of them so hoarse that they could not be heard. I
was by no means elated with finding myself where I am, and it was
well that, upon getting out of my coach, I had the honour of your
Ladyship's letter, which was some consolation to me. But I find by
it, what I have a long while dreaded, that Car's going away would be
attended with great uneasiness to you. . . . It is well that you can
meet it with so much reason and fortitude. I have, I know, the
smallest portion of either that any man ever had.

This day has cleared up. I am as yet very well, and shall be very
careful of myself, and I propose, as I told you, to set out from
hence on Sunday sevennight, the first of the next month, and stay
with George two days at Salt Hill. I am sure that I should not have
the pleasure I have in meeting him, if there were not some intervals
when I cannot see him, and I am convinced, that a life must (be)
chequered to have it really a plaisant one. I am glad that he and
W(illia)m were amused while they stayed in town. I expect to hear
from them some account of it.

The new Bishop is at Gloucester, as I am told, with his family;
c'est une faible ressource, but it is one; they are represented to
me as very agreeable people. Other company we shall have none, I
take for granted, and that Mie Mie, finding herself so much alone,
will be glad to return to Richmond. ... I am most excessively
concerned for poor Lord Waldgrave.(269)

(268) Croome in Worcestershire Lord Coventry's family seat.

(269) George, fourth Earl of Waldegrave (1751-1789). He married his
cousin, Lady Elizabeth Laura Waldegrave, daughter of James, second
earl, in 1782.


(1789,) Nov. 6, Friday m(orning), Richmond.--Lord C. will receive a
letter from me this morning which will be sufficient to assure you
that George is well. He is so indeed, a tous egards. I stayed with
him all Wednesday, and yesterday about noon I left him, so that in
reality his course of erudition had but one day's interruption from
me. Mr. Roberts is au comble de sa joie, et de sa gloire, having
gained the prize for a better copy of verses upon the Deluge than
that of any of his competitors. They are to be printed, so I shall
see what I can at present have no idea of, and that is, how he will
find matter from that event to furnish a hundred or two of blank
verses. I should think that no one, but one like our friend John St.
J(ohn), who uses Helicon as habitually as others do a cold bath, is
equal to it. I only hope, for my part, that the argument will not be
illustrated by any dkbordement of the Thames near this house; at
present there is no appearance of it.

I stayed at Matson, I will not say as long as it was good, but
before it became very bad, which I believe it did before we had left
the place two hours. The storm was brewing in the vale, but upon the
hills we bade it defiance. I am very glad to be at a place where I
can be stationary for a considerable time; and it is what is very
requisite for my present state of health, which requires attention
and regularity of living. If these are observed, I am as(su)red that
after a time I shall be well, and that my lease for ten or twenty
years seems as yet a good one. As for the labour and sorrow which
his Majesty K(ing) D(avid) speaks of, I know of no age that is quite
exempt from them, and have no fear of their being more severe in my
caducity than they were in the flower of my age, when I had not more
things to please me than I have now, although they might vary in
their kind. When I see you and Lord C. with your children about you,
and all of you in perfect health and spirits, my sensations of
pleasure are greater than in the most joyous hours of my youth. It
is no solitude, this place. We have got Onslows and Jeffreyes's, Mr.
Walpole, &c., &c., and if Mr. Cambridge would permit it, I could be
sometimes, as I wish to be, alone.

On Monday Mie Mie and I shall go to town for one night. I am to meet
Me de Bouflers(270) at Lady Lucan's. I think that if this next
winter does not make a perfect Frenchman of me, I shall give it up.
I hope, more, that it will afford Mie Mie also an opportunity of
improving herself in a language which will be of more use to her, in
all probability, than it can ever hereafter be to me. I am not
disgusted with the language by the abhorrence which I have at
present of the country. But these calamities, at times, happen in
all climes, as well as in France. Man is a most savage animal when
uncontrolled.

The last accounts brought from France fill me with more horror than
any former ones. The King is to be moved only by the fear of some
approaching danger to his person. The Queen is agitated by all the
alarming and distressing thoughts imaginable. Her health is visibly
altered; she cries continually, and is, as Polinitz says of K(ing)
James's Queen, une Arethuse. Her danger has been imminent; and the
K(ing) left his capital, and her in it, as he was advised to do, il
eut ete fait d'elle; she would have been, probably, dragged to the
Hotel de Ville, et auroit fini ses jours en Greve. She holds out her
children, which are called les enfans de la Reine exclusivement, as
beggars in the streets do theirs, to move compassion. Behold, how
low they have reduced a Queen! But as yet she is not ripe for
tragedy, so John St. John may employ his muse upon other subjects
for a time. To speak the truth, all these representations of the
miseries of the French nation do not seem to me (very decent) proper
subjects for our evening spectacles, and it is not, in my
apprehension, quite decent that Mr. Hughes, Mr. Astley, or Mr. St.
John should be making a profit by Iron Masques, and Toupets stuck
upon Poles.

The D(uke) of Orleans's embassy here is universally considered as
one devised for his own personal safety, and he is equally respected
here and abroad. The subject of his credentials and object of
negotiation had no more in them than to say that his most Xtian
Majesty desired to know how his brother the K(ing) of England did.
The answer to which was, very well, with thanks for his obliging
enquiries. The King speaks to the D(uke) of O(rleans) civilly, mais
il en demeure la. His behaviour to the Duc de Luxembourg(271) and to
other Frenchmen of quality was more distinguished. He talked
yesterday to M. de Luxembourg for an hour and 17 minutes. You know
how exact we courtiers are upon these points.

Charles Fox was at Court, but was scarcely spoke to. Il n'en fut
pour cela plus rebute. He stayed in the apartments till five in the
afternoon. Others of the Opposition were there. Lord North came to
Court with his son-in-law, Mr. D.(272) I must wait for a future
opportunity of paying my court. The Duke has finished his, I
believe, for the present. I expected to have found him here or in
London. He went again into Scotland last Friday, and will not be
returned in a month, and this sans qu'il m'en ait averti. Il faut
avouer que notre Duc, a regard de tous les petits devoirs de la vie,
est fort a son aise. Me de Cambis is also come; il en fourmille, but
all of them almost beggars; some few, I hear, have letters of
credit. Poor Me de Boufflers, as Lady Lucan writes me word, is dans
un etat pitoyable. But for the French, brisons la pour le present.

(270) Marie Charlotte Hippolyte de Saujon, Comtesse de
Boufflers-Rouvel (1724-1800). One of those remarkable women who in
Paris at the end of the eighteenth century united a love of
intellect and literature with a pleasure in society. After being
left a widow in 1764, she lived with the Prince de Conti. She was a
friend of Hume and Rousseau, the rival of Mme. du Deffand. Her salon
in the Temple was a meeting-place for a singular variety of persons,
among whom she was known as Minerva the Wise. Her daughter-in-law,
the Comtesse Emilie de Boufflers, was guillotined in 1794. She
herself was imprisoned, but was released after the death of
Robespierre.

(271) The Due de Luxembourg and his family escaped with difficulty
to England, 300,000 livres being set on his head. He arrived in
London July 19, 1789.

(272) Sylvester Douglas, Lord Glenbervie.


(1789, Nov.?) 19, Thursday night, Richmond.--I left London to come
here to-day to dinner, as I have told you that I should, but I did
not come away till I had seen Miss Gunning,(273) who told me that
she should write to your Ladyship either to-day or to-morrow. I
found her gaie, fraiche, contente, and writing a letter, and when I
began by saying, "So you persist then in leaving this very pretty
room," she smiled. I think that she is perfectly satisfied with the
option she has made, and I really think that she has reason to be
so, toutes choses bien considerees. If I had been a woman, and could
not have been my own mistress, I should have preferred subjection to
a husband, whom I approved of, to a Queen (sic). We talked a great
deal of the menage, and I am to take my chair and have my convert
there when I please; and it is (a) stipulation that not a petit pot
is to be added on my account. She is to be married, I find, at the
beginning of the new year, and she is to have immediately four
children, three boys and one girl. I should on her account have
liked it as well if she had begun sur nouveaux frais; but, it not
being so, I think that the three boys and one girl is a better
circumstance than if there had been more girls. He is really, as far
as I can judge of him, a very worthy man, and I believe will make
her a very good husband, and I have no doubt but that she will
receive from his family as much regard and attention as any other
woman would have had. When I left St. James's, I went in search of
Me de Boufflers, and found her at Grenier's Hotel, which looks to me
more like an hospital than anything else. Such rooms, such a crowd
of miserable wretches, escaped from plunder and massacre, and Me de
Boufflers among them with I do not know how many beggars in her
suite, her belle fille (qui n'est pas belle, par parenthese), the
Comtesse Emilie, a maid with the little child in her arms, a boy,
her grandson, called Le Chevalier de Cinque minutes, I cannot
explain to you why; a pretty fair child, just inoculated who does
not as yet know so much French as I do, but understood me, and was
much pleased with my caresses. It was really altogether a piteous
sight. When I saw her last, she was in a handsome hotel dans le
quartier du Temple--a splendid supper--Pharaon; I was placed between
Monsr. Fayette and his wife. This Fayette(274) is her nephew, and
has been the chief instrument of her misfortunes, and I hope, par la
suite, of his own. I said tout ce qui m'est venu en tete de plus
consolant.

I would, if I had had time, have gone from her to Me la Duchesse de
Biron, but I went to Lady Lucan, with whom I have tried to menager
some petit-petits soupers for these poor distressed people. That
must be, when Lord Lucan returns from Lord Spencer's, after the
X'ning.

The Duke of Orleans, they tell me, goes all over the city to borrow
immense sums, offering as a security his whole revenue. He cannot
get a guinea, or deserves one. He is universally despised and
detested. Me Buffon is said de lui avoir fait le plus grand
sacrifice, sans doute, le sacrifice de sa reputation et de son etat.
Que peut-on demander davantage?

There are parties among them, I find; la Duchesse de Biron and Me de
Cambis for the Etats Generaux; Me de Boufflers (and) M. de
Calonne(275) pour le parti du Roi. It was right to apprise me of all
this, or I should, with my civilities, have made a thousand qui pro
quo's; but had I known that Lady Derby was in town, I should have
gone to her, undoubtedly, par preference, as I shall do, the very
next time I go to London. I am desired to dine there on Sunday with
Lord Brudnell, but really the going, though but nine miles, par des
chemins si bourbeux, and changing my room and bed at this time, is
not to my mind. I shall keep here quietly as much as I can, till I
know of your being come to town, but when will that be?

If Lord Jersey(276) cannot keep himself steady neither on his legs
or his horse, you may be confined at C(astle) H(oward) the whole
winter, which is better than to be at Gainthrop with me, and
Hodgsson, that is certain. I did not hear but of one of his falls
till yesterday, at Lord Ashburnham's.(277) My respects to them both,
I beg. Mie Mie sends hers to your Ladyship, with a thousand kind
compliments besides. Caroline will receive both from her and me a
letter on her arrival at Stackpole Court, and I shall now make no
scruple to write to her often, since I find, what I wished, that it
is paying my court to Mr. C(ampbell) expressing my affection to her.

Poor William's watch I found in a sad condition. I brought it to
town, as he desired, and have lodged it safely with my watch-maker,
against his coming home. Miss Digby, the Dean's(278) daughter, it is
supposed, will be the new Maid of Honour. Hotham has poor Lord
Waldegrave's Regiment; the chariot is not yet disposed of; I will
bet my money on Lord Winchelsea.

I wish that I could find out, if there were any thoughts of your
brother's going Ambassador to France. I have as yet no authority for
it, but the papers.

The K(ing) was at the play last night, for the first time. The
acclamations, as I am told, were prodigious. Tears of joy were shed
in abundance. Nous savons ce que c'est que la populace, et combien
peu il en coute a leurs caprices, ou de pleurer, on de massacrer,
selon l'occasion.

We are at peace at home, I thank God, four le moment. I hope that it
will continue, and that no Lord Stanhope, or a Dr. Priestly, will
think a change of Government would make us happier. John is now at
the ackma (acme) of Theatrical reputation, and we shall see his name
on every rubrick post, I suppose, of all the Booksellers between St.
James's and the Temple, with that of Congreve, Otway, &c., &c.

(273) Miss Gunning was married to the Hon. Stephen Digby on Jan. 6,
1790, see ante letter of November 2, 1788, paragraph beginning "Miss
Gunning I find at the Park . . .", and note (235).

(274) The Marquis de La Fayette (1757-1834). Assisted the Americans
in the War of Independence. While in America he sent a challenge to
Lord Carlisle, who refused to fight. He went home to aid the
revolutionists in his own country. In 1789 he placed before the
National Assembly a Declaration of Rights based on Jefferson's
Declaration of Independence. It was he who introduced the tricolor.
The Revolution assuming a character beyond constitutional control,
he left Paris in 1790 for his estate until called to the head of the
Army of Ardennes. After gaining the three first victories of the
war, finding he could not persuade his soldiers to march to Paris to
save the Constitution, he went to Liege, where he was seized by the
Austrians. He was again active in the Revolution of 1830. He was
greatly admired and beloved in America. In 1824, when in America by
invitation of Congress, he was voted 200,000 dollars in money and a
township of land.

(275) Charles Alexandre de Calonne (1734-1802); statesman,
financier, and pamphleteer. On the 3rd of November, 1783, he was
made Controller-General, but lost the post in 1787. "A man of
incredible facility, facile action, facile elocution, facile
thought. . . . in her Majesty's soirees, with the weight of a world
lying on him, he is the delight of men and women." (Carlyle, "French
Revolution," book lii. ch. 11.).

(276) George Bussey, fourth Earl of Jersey (1735-1805).

(277) John, second Earl of Ashburnham (1724-1812).

(278) William Digby, Dean of Clonfert (1766-1812).



(1789, Nov. 21?) Saturday night, Richmond.--I finished my short note
of to-day with saying that I intended to have wrote to you a longer
letter, but I sent you all which I had time to write before the post
went out. It is, I think, a curious anecdote, and I know it to be a
true one; I was surprised to find that the Duke had heard nothing of
it, but I suppose that his Highness the D(uke) of O(rleans) does not
find it a very pleasant subject to discuss, and if the allegation be
true, no one in history can make a more horrid, and at the same
time, a more contemptible figure, for I must give him credit for all
which might have been, as well as for what was certainly the
consequence of his enterprise. I hope that, for the future, both he
and his friend here will (to use Cardinal Wolsey's expression)
"fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels. How can man then
hope to win by it?" And of all men, the least, a Regent. If I had
not been interrupted by the Duke's coming soon after I received the
paper, I should have myself wrote a copy of it for Caroline, because
I must not have a Welch Lady left out of the secret of affairs.
 . . .

The Duke(279) looks surprisingly well. He came from London on
purpose to see us, and intended, I believe, to have stayed, at least
to dinner, but H(is) R(oyal) H(ighness) interfered, as he often does
with my pleasures; so the Duke dined at Carlton House--I do not say
in such an humble, comfortable society, as with us, but what he
likes better, avec des princes, qui sont Princes, sans contredit,
mais rien audessus. All in good time, as Me Piozzi(280) frequently
in her book, but what she means by it the Devil knows, nor do I
care. I only say, that her book, with all its absurdities, has
amused me more than many others have done which have a much better
reputation.

I heard the D. say nothing of his affairs in Scotland, of those in
France, or indeed hardly of anything else, and I, for my part, am
afraid of broaching any subject whatever, because upon all there is
some string that jars, and to preserve a perfect unison, I think it
best to wait than to seek occasions of offering my poor sentiments.
He is going again to Newmarket, to survey his works there I suppose,
so that he holds out to us but an uncertain prospect of seeing him
much here. Je l'attens a la remise, as Me de Sevigne says, and
there, after the multiplicity of his rounds and courses, I might
expect to see him, if the number of princes, foreign and domestic,
were not so great. Dieu merci, je n'ai pas cette Princimanie, but
can find comfort in a much inferior region.

At Bushy are Mr. Williams, Mr. Storer, and Sir G. Cooper, and in
their rides they call upon me, but besides the Harridans of this
neighbourhood, the Greenwich's, the Langdales, &c., I have in the
Onslows and Darrels an inexhaustible fund of small talk, and, what
is best of all, I have made an intimacy, which will last at least
for some months, with my own fireside, to which, perhaps, in the
course of the next winter I may admit that very popular man, Mr.
Thomas Jones, of whom I shall like, when I know him better, to talk
with your Ladyship.

I am now going to share with Mrs. Webb a new entertainment, for I am
made to expect a great deal from it. It is Dr. White's Bampton
Lectures, which they say contain the most agreeable account
imaginable of our Religion compared with that of Mahomet. Mrs. W.
reads them to go to Heaven, and I to go into companies where, when
the conversation upon French Politics is at a stand, it engrosses
the chief of what we have to say. I have a design upon Botany Bay
and Cibber's Apology for his own life, which everybody has read, and
which I should have read myself forty years ago, if I had not
preferred the reading of men so much to that of books.

I expect you in London on Wednesday sevennight, and there and in
Grosvenor Place will you find me, en descendant de votre carrosse. I
shall then begin to renew my attentions to the Boufflers, Birons,
etc., and so prepare my thoughts and language for the ensuing winter;
but I shall not remove the household from hence till after
Christmas. Till then, if you allow me only to pass two or three days
in a week with you, I shall be, for the present, contented.

I am glad that this last mail from France brought nothing so
horrible as what I was made to expect. Yet I am not at all at ease,
in respect to that poor unfortunate family at the Louvre, which, I
protest, I think not much more so than that of Galas.(281) Of all
those whom I wish to have hanged, I will be so free as to own that I
am more disposed in favour of the M. de la Fayette than of any
other, because in him I do not see, what is almost universal in
those who have pretensions to patriotism, an exclusive consideration
of their own benefit, and meaning, at the bottom, no earthly good to
any but to themselves and their own dependants. M. Fayette est
entreprenant, hardi, avec un certain point d'honneur, et avec cela,
plus consequent que le reste des Reformateurs, qui, apres tout, est
un engeance si detestable a mon avis, qu'un pais ne peut avoir un
plus grand fleeau. How often will that poor country regret the
splendour of a Court, and that Lit de Justice, sur lequel le Roi et
ses sujets avoient coutume de dormir si tranquillement! But when I
think of ambition, it is not that of all kinds that I condemn . . .

(279) Queensberry.

(280) Mme. Piozzi, formerly Mrs. Thrale (1741-1821). The reference
is to "Her Observations and Reflections made in a Journey through
France, Italy, and Germany," which was brought out in 1789. She is
best known as the friend of Dr. Johnson.

(281) Jean Galas (1698-1762), whose unhappy story was the subject of
tragedies prought out in Paris in 1790 and 1791.

(1790) July (Aug?) 7, Saturday, Isleworth.--I hope that this letter
will reach you before you set out for Cumberland, because I am
impatient to tell you that the Perfection of Nature is at this
instant the Perfection of Health. I came over here in my boat to
write my letter from a place where I am sure that your thoughts
carry you very often, and to make my letter from that local
circumstance more welcome to you. I brought over with me two, almost
the last, roses now in bloom, which I could find in the Duke's
garden; one of them would have been for you if you had been here,
because I know the complexion in roses which you prefer; so I have
desired Lady Caroline to smell to it sympathiquement. I found upon
my table at Richm(on)d, when I came down, as I expected, Lady
Sutherland's letter envelop(p)ee a la francoise, and in my next I
will transcribe so many extracts, as it shall be the same as if I
sent you the letter; but I am not sure that sending the original
itself would not be illicit without a particular permission from her
Excellency. I am much obliged to her for it, and shall do my best to
obtain more, although France is a country now which, if I could, I
would obliterate from my mind. Had this Revolution happened two
thousand years ago, I might have been amused with an account of it,
wrote by some good historian, or if it had happened but a few years
hence, I should not [have] felt about it as I do; as it is, the
event is too near for me not to feel as I do. I do not like to be
obliged to renounce my esteem for any individual, much less to think
ill of such numbers. The oppression suffered under the former
Government, or [and] the desire of giving to mankind the rights
which by nature they seem intituled to, are with me no excuse, when
a people sets out, in reforming, with acting in direct opposition to
all the principles which before they thought respectable, and really
were so, and, to become a free people, commence by being
freebooters. However, as this savours too much of party zeal, I will
have done with it; yet it is not relative to this country, which I
hope will be free from these calamities and abominations, and so I
need not fear expatiating sometimes upon the subject.

Me de Boufflers, la Reine des Aristocrates refugies en Angleterre,
was to see us yesterday in the evening, and to invite Mie Mie and me
to come sometimes to hear her daughter-in-law play upon the harp. I
did not expect melody in their heaviness, but I shall certainly go,
as the recitative part will be in French, and that you know is
always some amusement to me.

The Duke, I hear, will be in London to-night, and so may come to
Richmond to dine with us to-morrow. If he does, I shall be a little
embarrassed between my two Dukes, for the Duke of Newcastle(282)
expects me to dine and to lie at his house at Wimbledon. If I can
reconcile two such jarring attachments, I will; if not, I believe I
shall prefer my neighbour, as loving him very near as much as
myself. Well, Mr. C(ampbell) and Lady C(aroline) are going out in
their phaeton, so I shall now have done. . . .

(282) Thomas, third Duke of Newcastle (1752-1795)


(1790, Aug.? or Oct.?) Saturday, Isleworth.--. . . Mr. C(ampbell)
called upon me yesterday. He came to see my two pictures, which I
had cleaned by Comyns, and are very pretty, as Mr. C. allows, but he
will not assent to Comyns's opinion that they are Cuyp's, although
much in his style. Comyns values them at what they cost me, which
was 50 gs. or thereabouts. Mie Mie has them in her dressing-room,
and is vastly pleased with them. We all dine to-day at the
Castle.(283) Me la Comtesse Balbi(284) chooses to give a dinner
there to all her friends, the Me'sdames Boufflers, the Comte de
Boisgelin,(285) M. d'Haveri(?), &c. The Duke, Mie Mie, and I are
invited, and the Duke intends to bring Mr. Grieve with him, and as a
Member de la Chambre Basse he will pass muster, but he is most
wretched at the lingo. They will assemble in the evening at the
Duke's, where I suppose that there will be tweedle dum, and tweedle
dee, for the whole evening, till supper. George will not, after
this, call our house a hermitage; if it is, it is a reform of a
merry Order, in which neither St. Francis or St. Bruno have any
share.

Lady Graham(286) has got her Duche very soon. A report was spread
here yesterday that Prince Augustus(287) was dead, but it is
contradicted in the papers of to-day. Mr. C(ampbell) is gone to
town, but he and Mr. Grevil return to dinner.

I hope that Frederick liked my letter, and that in my letter to
Gertrude there was some bad French for her to correct, and then I
Shall hear from her again. I hope that William will be indulged in
staying here a day or two with his sister, and that George will not
fly away on his Pegasus to Oxford the instant he comes, although I
know that the Muses are impatient to see him, and will set their
caps at him the moment he comes. I hope that you approve of my
choice of what the colour of his gown is to be. I think a light blue
celeste, which Lord Stafford had, would be detestable, and scarlet
is too glaring. No; it must be a good deep green. I want to know the
name of his tutor. I hope that he will have a very good collection
of books in his own room, a sufficient allowance, and a hamper of
claret, en cas de besom. I think, if there are to be no hounds or
horses, we may compound for all the rest. But these I believe the
Dean will never suffer to be matriculated. . . .

I have some thought of going to pass a day in town when Warner
comes, and if I do I will certainly go there by Fulham, to see the
Dean. I have not heard one syllable about him a great while. You
know, perhaps that Pyrome(?) is discharged, and relegue a ses
terres. He (has) a mechante langue, and to keep himself in place he
should cut it out.

(283) The Castle Inn, Hill Street, Richmond. It was for many years a
fashionable resort as well as a noted posting house. Mrs. Forty, the
wife of a subsequent proprietor, was the subject of Sheridan's toast
at the Prince Regent's table--"Fair, Fat, and Forty."

(284) Mme la Comtesse de Balbi (1753-1832), celebrated for her
connection with the Comte de Provence, afterward Louis XVIII. At the
epoch of the Revolution she retired to Coblentz with Monsieur.
Leaving him she came to England, where she remained until the First
Consul permitted the emigres to return to their homes, but she was
soon discovered to be engaged in royalist intrigues and exiled; her
endeavours to obtain the royal favour at the Restoration were vain.

(285) Louis de Boisgelin de Kerdu, Chevalier of Malta (1750-1816),
historian; brother of the Cardinal.

(286) Caroline, daughter of the fourth Duke of Manchester, married,
in July, 1790, the Marquess of Graham, who succeeded his father as
third Duke of Montrose in September of that year.

(287) Augustus, Duke of Sussex, died 1843.


(1790,) Aug. 12, Thursday m(orning), 8 o'clock, Richmond.--I sit
down now to write you with some satisfaction, because that I shall
have to tell you, towards the end of my letter, that Caroline is
perfectly well, but you must have patience; I have not seen her
to-day; I shall finish my letter at Isleworth. At present, I only
know that about 12 o'clock last night she eat plumb cake and drank
wine and water in my parlour--she, Mr. Campbell, and Mie Mie, and
who besides I have not yet asked. I was in bed when she came; it was
an heure perdue, but not lost upon me, for I was not asleep, nor
could sleep till I heard that those two girls were come home safe.

From what, in the name of God? you will say. From seeing that
etourdi Lord Barrymore(288) play the fool in three or four different
characters upon our Richmond Theatre. Well, but what did that
signify? Nothing to me; let him expose himself on as many stages as
he pleases, and wherever the phaeton can transport him, but he comes
here, and assembles as many people ten miles around as can squeeze
into the Booth. I had every fear that Mrs. Webb's nerves or mine
could suggest: heat in the first place; I considered Car's
situation; an alarm, what difficulty there might be of egress; but
we provided, Mr. Campbell and I, against everything. Mrs. Vanheck,
who has a most beautiful place at Roehampton, came and carried Mie
Mie into her box. Places were separated in the pit; at first Lady
C(aroline) was to have been there with Mrs. Woodhouse, etc.; but, I
say, the egress was the point I wished for, and looked to. I got two
places, by much interest and eloquence, in the hind row of the front
box. A door opened into the lobby, and from the lobby you go
directly into the street. So I shall hear, I suppose, to-day that
all went au mieux.

I did not expect them to be clear of the House till near 12, so went
into my room, and soon after to bed, but I slept well. For I had
heard of them. They were all, I tell you, before 12 in my parlour,
eating cake and chattering, and talking the whole farce over, comme
a la grille du convent. I can at present tell you no more, but I was
impatient to begin my letter a cette heure; j'ai en quelque facon
satisfait a mon envie. I shall embark at eleven for Isleworth, and
hope with a fair wind to land at Campbell-ford stairs in ten minutes
after. From thence I will finish my letter. I shall there have the
whole en detail. The Prince and the Duke of Q. were expected, but I
heard from my servants nothing of them.

Il fait un lien beau tems; c'est quelque chose. It has come late,
and to make us only a short visit I suppose, and to tell us that we
shall have a better autumn than we have had a summer; no courtier
cajoles one like a fine day. Yesterday was a fine day also, and I
completed, as they call it, my seventy-first year. I dined at your
sister's.(289) Mr. Campbell and Car and Mie Mie were to have been of
the party; they had an apology to make, I had none. 71 is not an age
to Barrymoriser. There were only Mr. Woodcock and his wife. I met on
my return their Majesties, que j'ai salues; and so ended my day.

(288) Richard Barry, seventh Earl of Barrymore (1769-1793). Lord
Barrymore was brilliant, eccentric, and dissipated, and in his short
life he managed to spend 300,000 pounds and encumber his estates. He
gambled, owned racehorses and rode them, played cricket, and hunted.
He had a strong taste for the stage. At Wargrave-on-Thames he had a
private theatre adjoining his house, and liked to make up companies
with a mixture of amateurs and professionals. He is the prototype of
many modern and aristocratic spendthrifts. He was killed by an
accident when he seemed about to be giving up his wild career for a.
more useful life. He accepted a commission in the Berkshire Militia
and threw himself into his work with characteristic zest. When
escorting some French prisoners near Dover, the gun which was in his
carriage accidentally exploded and wounded him fatally. (See "The
Last Earls of Barrymore," by J. R. Robinson, London, 1894.)

(289) Lady Louisa Leveson-Gower, married to Sir Archibald Macdonald
in 1777. She died 1827.


(1790, Aug. 12,) one o'clock, Richmond.--I have been at Isleworth. I
found Car very well, and at her painting, with the Italico Anglico
artiste of Mr. Campbell's, and Mr. Lewis. Mr. C(ampbell) was gone to
London. They were asked to dine to-day at Fulham Field, that is, I
think, the name of the Attorney Gen(era)l's(290) place. I am not
sure if she told me that they intended to go. Lord Barrymore danced
the pas Russe with Delpini, and then performed Scaramouche in the
petite piece. I asked how he danced; Mr. Lewis said very ill. How
did he perform the other part? execrably bad. "Do you think," I
said, "that he would have known how to snuff the candles?" "I rather
think not," says Mr. Lewis. Mie Mie is more satisfied with his
talents; she thought him an excellent Escaramouche; ce seroit
quelque chose au moins. But I am more disposed to think that Mr.
Lewis is in the right, and I hope, for the young nobleman's own
sake, that toutes les fois qu'il s'avise de se donner en spectacle,
et faire de pareilles folies, il aura manque a sa vocation. Sa mere
ne jouoit pas un beau role, mais elle y a mieux reussi.

But enough at present of this. No harm of any sort has come from it,
but Mie Mie tells me that Mr. Campbell's anxiety the whole time was
excessive. After all, she was not in the places which I had provided
for the greater security, but went into those which were originally
intended for her. The Prince was there, but not the Duke of York, or
my friend the Duke of Q.

Now a d'autres choses. I have in my last fright forgot one where
there were better grounds for it. The day I wrote to you last, as
you know, I was at Isleworth. Coming from thence, and when I landed,
the first thing I heard was that people with guns were in pursuit of
a mad dog, that he had run into the Duke's garden. Mie Mie came the
first naturally into my thoughts; she is there sometimes by herself
reading. My impatience to get home, and uneasiness till I found that
she was safe and in her room, n'est pas a concevoir. The dog bit
several other dogs, a blue-coat boy, and two children, before he was
destroyed. John St. John, who dined with me, had met him in a narrow
lane, near Mrs. Boverie's, him and his pursuers. John had for his
defence a stick, with a heavy handle. He struck him with this, and
for the moment got clear of him; il l'a culbute. It is really
dreadful; for ten days to come we shall be in a terror, not knowing
what dogs may have been bitten. Some now may have le cerveau qui
commence a se troubler.

John(291) has a legacy from Lord Guilford(292) of 200 pounds a year,
the General(293) one of a thousand pounds; Mr. Keene has a hundred.
He has left in legacies about 16,000 pounds, as Mr. Williams tells
me, but not much ready money besides. His estate was about 2 or
3,000 per annum. It is to be a Peer, I hear, who shall succeed him.
I will write no more to-day. I will send you the extract from Lady
Sutherland's(294) letter in my next. The President has told me this
morning that Mr. Neckar(295) a faille d'etre pendu. Il voulut tirer
son epingle du jeu; il fut sur le point de partir; on ne pousse pas
la Liberte a ce point en France; il n'avait pas demande permission a
la Populace; ainsi, sans autre forme de proces, on voulut le
conduire du Controle a la Lanterne. I am glad to hear that the brats
are well. You set off, I understand, on Tuesday; so this will find
you in your Chateau antique et romanesque. J'en respecte meme les
murailles; tout y a un air si respectable.

I will write to my Lord in a few days, and when I hope to have seen
the Dean, but from what his neighbour Mr. Woodcock told me
yesterday, I shall have nothing very comfortable to tell him
touchant la sante de son bon precepteur, ni sur la mienne; elle
exige un management et une regime que je n'ai pas encore observee
avec la rigueur necessaire.

Now I expect a troupe of French people whom I met in a boat, as I
came this morning from Isleworth--le M. de Choiseul, Me de Choiseul,
&c. I have engaged myself to go with them to Mr. Ellis's, because it
belonged to Mr. Pope. I said I must go home to finish mes depeches,
but I expect them every minute. Je sers d'entreprete entre le M. de
Choiseul et Me sa femme.

My love to George. I hope that le Chateau de ses ancetres a pour lui
des charmes. I read a great deal of the Howards in Pennant's(296)
book. It is the only part that gives me pleasure; such an absurd
superficial pretender to learning I never met with, and after all of
what learning! Then he tries to copy Mr. Walpole's style in his Book
of Antient Authors; le tout est pitoyable. Adieu, dear Lady
Carlisle; si vous pouvez supporter tout ce bavardage, cest parce que
vous aimez votre fille, qui en est en partie la cause.

(290) Sir Archibald Macdonald, afterward Chief Baron of the
Exchequer.

(291) John St. John.

(292) Francis North, Earl of Guildford (1704-1790), father of the
statesman.

(293) Henry St. John.

(294) Wife of William, seventeenth and last Earl of Sutherland.

(295) Jacques Necker (1732-1804), the famous financier. He married
Mdlle. Curchod, Gibbon's one attachment. Their only child became the
celebrated Mme. de Stael. In 1790 he finally was forced to retire
from office as Director-General of Finance.

(296) Thomas Pennant (1726-1798), the naturalist and traveller,
author of several "Tours" in the British Isles which have become
classics. His energy in travelling and scientific spirit and
capacity of observation made him too modern for Selwyn and his
friends: Walpole said that, Penaant picked up his knowledge as he
rode.



(1790,) Aug. 22, Sunday, Richmond.--.. . I have nothing (more) to
tell you of Caroline, than that we saw her yesterday in the
afternoon, en passant, that is, in her boat, which was full of the
company she had had at dinner, and which, as Mie Mie told me, were
the Greggs, but ayant la vue courte, I could not distinguish,
myself, who they were.

My garden was as full as it could hold of foreigners and their
children--Warenzow's boy and girl, and the Marquis de Cinque
minutes, who, of all the infants I ever saw, is the most completely
spoiled for the present. His roars and screams, if he has not
everything which he wants, and in an instant, are enough to split
your head. His menace is, "Maman, je veux etre bien mechant ce soir,
je vous le promets."

The Duke was in the best humour the whole day I ever saw him, who
you know has been at times as gate as the other. He said that my
dinner was perfect, and so it was dans son genre. The ladies were
much pleased with their reception, and the Duke took such a fancy to
them, and to the place, that he believes that he shall be more here
than anywhere, and he went to town intending to send down all
preparatives for residence. Me de Bouflers told me que je m etois
menage une tres jolie retraite, and indeed at this time it is
particularly comfortable to me, and the circumstance of Caroline
having a house so near is not by any means the least of its
agremens. . . .

Monday.--Yesterday was a fine day, but neither news or event; on the
Thames une bourgeoisie assez nombreuse, and in the Gardens. I saw
our friends at Isleworth in the morning, before they went out in
their phaeton. They were going to Lord Guilford's, and to-day dine
at Mr. Ellis's. I believe that Madame de Roncherolles dines at Mr.
Walpole's, for she has sent to me to carry her. I do not dine there
myself, but shall go to fix with Mr. Walpole a day for Caroline and
Mr. C(ampbell) to see Strawberry Hall. Her journey to Lady
Egremont's is put off for a week. To-morrow I go to Fulham, and from
thence to London, from whence I return on Wednesday. Mie Mie and I
dine at Isleworth when I return. Mr. Grevil is to be with them this
week.

Bunbury is returned from Portsmouth; his news to me were, that the
emigration from France thither increases every day, and that in the
provinces, as these people say, who are come last from France, the
revolt increases, and a desire for the old Constitution. In Britany
and Normandy the party is very formidable. M. de Pontcarre,
President of the Parlement de Rouen, is in London; so there is
another President for me, if I choose it. The young French people
and their wives dined yesterday, as they usually do, at the Castle.
. . .


(1790 Aug. 23?) Monday night, 11 o'clock, Richmond.--I wrote to you
this morning, reserving to myself the liberty of lengthening my
letter, after I shall have seen Caroline for the last time before
her return from Cliveden, where it was her intention to go to-morrow
for a week or ten days, c'est selon; but I must begin this appendix
tonight, late as it is. I am still waiting till these French Ladies
come with Mie Mie from the play. It is Mr. Parson's benefit, and was
expected to be very full. The evening is cold, that is something,
but I must see Mie Mie before she goes to bed.

We were to-day at dinner ten, besides the Duke; Madame de Boufflers,
the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, M. de Calonne, The Fish,
Thomas,(297) Mie Mie and myself. I had liked (sic) to have forgot
Lady E. Forster, que l'on n'oublie pas souvent, dans cette partie au
moins; but now on sonne deja; le reste donc sera pour demain, et
pour quand j'aurai ete l'autre cote de la Riviere; so, for the
present, I wish you a good night, my dear Lady Carlisle.

Tuesday morning, Isleworth.--Now, to begin my letter properly, and
in course, it would be to say "Good morrow" to you, or, as they say
in Ireland, "Good morrow morning" to you, my dear Madam.

I hastened my coming here lest they should be gone, but they do not
set out till after dinner. Caroline is well enough to take a much
longer journey than from hence to Cliveden. I came with a commission
from the Duke to invite them to dinner, to meet the Princess
Chatterriski, whom I suppose you know; I find that she is no
favourite of Lady C(aroline), nor is her friend D'Oraison of mine,
but he comes to. The Duke left me to go and invite the Boufflers,
but whether they will come or not I do not know.

Calonne would have entertained yesterday. You never in your life saw
any man so inveterate as he was against M. de la Fayette, and, to
say the truth, he had reason, if all was true which he imputed'to
him, as I believe it was. But what diverted me the most was, that
Fayette had seriously proposed to make him, Calonne, King of
Madagascar. Surely there never was, since the Earl of Warwick's
time, such a king-maker. I would to God that he had accepted of the
diadem, but then perhaps he would not have dined with us yesterday.
Il en contait a Madame la Duchesse, and sat at dinner between her
and Lady E. Forster, avec qui je faisois la conversation; the Duke
over against us on the other side of the table, comme la Statue dans
le Festin de Pierre, never changing a muscle of his face. The
Marquis was above, and there Me la Duchesse lui donna a diner. I was
determined upon an audience, and found l'heure du berger. He
received me avec un sourire le plus gracieux du monde, and I was
obliged to present my address of compliments. But I think that the
Nurse is a bad physiognomiste if she did not see that what I said,
and what I thought, were not d'accord. He is like the Duke if he is
like anything, but a more uninteresting countenance I never saw--
fair, white, fate, sans charactere. In short, on a beau faire, on a
beau dire. If un enfant ne vous tient d'une maniere ou d'autre, I
cannot admire it as I am expected to do; and what a difference that
makes will be seen two months hence. Toutes mes affections parlent
due meme principe. The Duchess offended me much by coming with a
couronne civique, which is a chaplet of oak leaves. In England they
are a symbol of loyalty. Il n'en (est) pas de meme en France. I
asked if she wore it before the Queen; I was told yes. Je ne
comprens rien a cela.

The whole behaviour of the Queen, in her present wretched,
humiliated state, is touchante et interessante au dernier point.
Elle ne rit, que quand elle ne songe pas a ses malheurs. At other
times she is, as Polinitz says of K(ing) James's Queen, when he saw
her after the Revolution, une Arethuse. M. le M(arquis) de la
Fayette comes to the Tuilleries, and although he be really no more
or less than the jailer, he is received with graciousness.

But now, four les Evangiles du jour. I had a letter from Warner this
morning before I left Richmond, dated last Thursday night. Your
brother's courier did not, however, leave Paris till the morning of
Friday. Warner's words are these:--"The courier goes to carry the
news of the Decree, of fitting out 25 ships of the line, and
adhering to the Family Compact in the defensive Articles, which
looks so like a war that it frightens us with the apprehension of
being sent packing home to you, or rather without packing."

If the consequence of a war is your brother's return to this
country, I do not think it a misfortune to him, and I wish, no other
may happen to us, than the expense at which we must be to support
one campaign against these United Powers. Still I am of opinion that
peace will follow immediately these preparations. But Calonne
alarmed me yesterday, when he said, that he thought that the
National Assembly would draw them into a war with us. He had not
then received his dispatches. I shall hear a great deal of it
to-day, true or false, from D'Oraison.

Mrs. Bartho is already gone to Lady Lewisham. Caroline stayed to
dine in town, and they returned here about six. I think that Mr.
C(ampbell) seems to-day not determined to stay so long at Cliveden
as he thought to do. I shall wish them to return, be it only that I
may have the more to say to you, and the better security for my
letters being well accepted.

I hope that George was amused at the York races. I have seen this
morning in Lizy's letter that he was there. Vixen is sitting for his
picture, and this is all the news of Isleworth. I may have more to
tell Lord C(arlisle) when I write to him, which I shall do by the
next post. My love to them all, you know whom I mean.

What does Lord C. mean by calling himself alone? Peut-on etre mieux
qu'au sein de sa famille? That was part of an ariette which M. de la
Fayette's music played the day the K(ing) went to the Hotel de
Ville, as I have been informed by a pamphlet, wrote to abuse Mr.
Neckar, and which is incomparably well wrote. I will get it for
George if he desires it, and will promise to read it. I am afraid
that he is too much of (a) Democrate, but as a lover of justice, and
of mankind, and of order and good government, he would not be so
long, s'il vouloit se rendre a mes raisons; mais il croit que je
n'en ai pas, et que je me retranche a dire des invectives, sans
avoir des argumens pour soutenir mon systeme; en cela il se trompe.
God bless him; je l'aime de tout mon coeur, et je l'estime aussi,
qui est encore davantage.

(297) Thomas Townshend.


(1790,) Sept. 4, Saturday m(orning), Richmond.--. . . My larder is
rich from Mr. C(ampbell's) chasse. I had some game the day after the
first hostilities against the partridges commenced. . . . Our
foreign connections here increase; le Comte de Suffren and his
family are going to establish themselves here in a house above the
Bridge, and on the banks of the River. He came to the Duke's(298)
yesterday, where we dined, and stayed with us the whole evening. He
is an aristocrate, and a great sufferer by the troubles in France,
but he is a very sober, moderate man, and intelligent. The Duke
liked his company very much.

I am loaded now with pamphlets upon this great and extraordinary
event; some entertain me, some not. I like much what I have just
been reading, which is the opinion of the Abbe Maury,(299) delivered
in the National Assembly, upon the executif and legislatif power, in
regard to declaring war, and concluding treaties of commerce and
alliance. There is a great deal of good sense in it, and comes the
nearest to my own opinion of what has passed. I suppose that Lord C.
has read it. I hope that George will read it too. If I was sure that
the speech was not at Castle H. I would transcribe some passages out
of it, a sa consideration.

I desire very much to be of his mind about everything, but, if he is
a Republican, I have done with him. If he will in his Republican
system throw in a little royal authority as ballast, we shall soon
come to an agreement. I wish him to come neuf to all those great and
important questions, and examine them sans l'esprit de systeme,
without prejudice and strong inclination to be of either side, but
to investigate the truth, and adopt it. Il est fait pour raisonner;
il commence etre d'un age ou le jugement acquerera tous les jours de
la maturite. My love to him, I beg.

I think Lady Derby mends in appearance; the Duke and I go often to
her. I would cross the water and make the Duchess a visit, but that
I think it right to forbear going in a carriage as long as I can;
and then, perhaps, I may go with safety to London, from time to time
to see Caroline, when she removes thither. . . .

(298) Queensberry.

(299) Jean Siffren Maury, abbe, the eloquent supporter of the
monarchical cause.


(1790,) September 7, Tuesday, 8 o'clock, Richmond.--. . . . I was
surprised in the evening with a visit from Mr. Campbell. We were au
dessert, that is, the party which dined here after they returned
from Egham. . . . His visit put out of my head, in a minute, all the
pretty French phrases which I was brewing. . . . Mr. C. stayed to
converse with the Welch heiress, to talk with Me de Choiseul upon
Greece and the Archipele, and of his uncle's voyage pittoresque, and
he spoke a great while in Italian with Me la Comtesse de Suffren. I
long to hear, as I shall this morning, his opinion of the party. I
asked them (a) few questions about their day's sport; it was a
novelty with which I know that they would be pleased.

So Me de Choiseul has obtained leave of her husband, I believe
without much difficulty, to stay here one day more. I shall, for my
part, make no efforts to detain them. Me de R. has explained to me
sufficiently en quoi consiste la mauvaise conduite du Marquis. But
young people ne regardent que le surface. The Duke did not return; I
believe that he dined and lay at Oatlands. His horse had a violent
fall; but I heard of no other event. I suppose he may have lost by
that accident.

I know as yet no more of Mr. C(ampbell's) motions than that he and
Lady C. go to town this morning, but return to dinner. We shall dine
with them, when these Races are over; they finish to-morrow.

I sat yesterday morning a great while with the Fish's friend, Me de
Roncherolles. Entre nous, I like her much more than any of the whole
set. She has neither du brillant dans son esprit, ni une infinite de
grace dans ses manieres, je l'avoue, mais, elle est sans
pretensions, et avec beaucoup de bon sens, meme de la solidite, et
elle est instruite suffisamment. Mr. Walpole ne lui donne pas la
preference. He must have something de l'esprit de l'Academie, &c.,
something of a charactere marque. Je ne cherche rien de tout cela;
je suis content du naturel, et de trouver une personne raisonnable,
honnete, et de bonne conversation. She is going to-day for a week or
more to Lady Spencer's at St. Alban's. I am sure that it is not
there, que je trouverois cette simplicite qui me plait. But this,
till it is time to embark for Isleworth, when I shall have something
more interesting to talk of than the perfections of Me de
Roncherolles. . . .


(1790, Nov.?) Thursday, Richmond.--You are so good, when you do not
see me or hear of me, to be desirous of having some information of
my state of health and existence. Now I must let you know that I
have at this moment every distress, negative and positive, that I
can have, et les voici. My negative one is, being for the moment in
an impossibility of going to town to see you, Caroline, and the
bambino, and that is enough, for it would be a great pleasure to me,
as you must imagine. Then, I am, in a manner, here with one single
servant. Pierre has left this house to go to his own, where he is
very well looked after by his wife, and is (as) comfortably lodged
as it is possible to be; but he is, as Mr. Dundas tells me, in a
very perilous situation, and yet, by excessive care, may recover.

He has been my doctor lately instead of his own, and given me,
daily, powders which he said were the bark, and which I was to take.
No such thing; they were powders of a different sort, which, it is
fortunate, have done me no mischief. They were in the drawer, and so
brought to me as bark. Dundas thought I neglected myself, and
rejected the prescription. I maintained that I had missed taking the
bark but one day. He knew the contrary from his shop book, and
to-day only the mystery was cleared up.

My next grievance is, that je peris de froid; j'en mis penetre au
pied de la lettre, and the reason is plain, but why I did not
discover it myself is hardly to be conceived. I have no clothes; my
stockings are of a fine thin thread, half of them full of holes; I
have no flannel waistcoat, which everybody else wears; in short, I
have been shivering in the warmest room sans scavoir pourquoi. But
yesterday there was a committee at the Duke's upon my drapery, and
to-day a tailor is sent for. I am to be flannelled and cottoned, and
kept alive if possible; but if that cannot be done, I must be
embalmed, with my face, mummy like, only bare, to converse through
my cerements. Then, my other footman, the Bruiser, is that, and all
things bad besides; he is not an hour in the day at home, and is
gaming at alehouses till 12 at night; so the moment that I can get
any servant that is tolerable to supply his place I shall send him
out of the house, sans autre forme de proces; but, till he is gone,
my whole family lives in terror of him.

It is amazing to what a degree I am become helpless; nothing can
account for it but extreme dotage, or extreme infancy. I wish
Barthow had left Lady Caroline, and was here only to dress me in
warmer clothes, but she goes from here, I hear, to Lady Ailesford,
so that I must not think of lying in and being nursed for some time.
. . .


(1790,) Dec. 8, Wednesday, Richmond.--You have bean at C(astle)
H(oward) ever since Monday sevennight, and not one single word have
you received from your humble slave and beadsman. . . . Here is now
come a snip-snap letter of reproach from Lady Ossory for not having
answered her letter of compliments upon Lady Caroline's delivery. I
received yours on Sunday. That was no post day, so I resolved to
answer it in Berkley Square on Monday. But I did not set out till
three o'clock, lost all the fine part of the morning, and did not
get to town till five in the afternoon--dragged for two hours, two
whole hours, through mud, and cold, and mist, till I was perishing;
so that when I had eat some dinner I was fit for nothing but to go
to bed, and therefore did not go to Berkley Square till yesterday at
noon. . . . I saw Caroline and her bambino. . . . The christening is
to be, as I understand, to-morrow. I hope in God that I shall be
well enough to assist, and name the child, and eat cake, and go
through all the functions of a good gossip. If I am obliged to give
up that which seems to have been my vocation, c'est fait de moi; I
must declare myself good for nothing. I carried yesterday the
regalia. The cup has been new boiled, and looks quite royal.

Sir L. Pepys was with me in the morning, and thought my pulse very
quiet, which could only have been from the fatigue of the day
before--juste Dieu! fatigue, of going 8 or 9 miles, my legs on the
foreseat, and reposing my head on Jones's shoulder. The Duke would
make her go, and everybody. He thinks that I am now the most
helpless creature in the world, when, from infirmity, I want ten
times more aid than I ever did. Sir Lucas pronounced no immediate
end of myself, but that I should continue to bark, with hemlock.
I'll do anything for some time longer, but my patience will, I see,
after a certain time, be exhausted. As to poor Pierre, it is over
with him. Sir Lucas says the disorder is past all remedy. This is a
most distressful story to me, and how to supply his place I do not
know.


With this letter a correspondence, unique and delightful, extending
over many years, ends. At its close we may well recall Lord
Carlisle's words written fourteen years before, "I shall always be
grateful to fortune," he said, ". . . for having linked me in so
close a friendship with yourself, in spite of disparity of years and
pursuits." Selwyn returned to London shortly before Christmas, and
died on the 25th of January, 1791. On this very day Walpole, with a
touching simplicity and truth, wrote to Miss Berry, "I am on the
point of losing, or have lost, my oldest acquaintance and friend,
George Selwyn, who was yesterday at the extremity. These
misfortunes, tho' they can be so but for a short time, are very
sensible to the old; but him I really loved not only for his
infinite wit, but for a thousand good qualities."




INDEX

A

Abergavenny, Lord
 Abingdon, Lord
 Adams, John
 Ailesbury, Lady
 Albemarle, Lady
 Almack's Assembly Rooms, King Street, St. James'; masquerade
     at; masquerade stopped by bishops; extinct.
 Almack's Club, Pall Mall; events at; thriving; Selwyn and Fox at
      supper at; Selwyn's "bureau;" Selwyn avoids; house occupied
     by.
 Alston, Tommy
 Althorp, Lord
 Amelia, Princess
 America--Lord Carlisle, peace commissioner to; Gower, Lord, on
      independence of; Fitzpatrick in; colonies, bad news from;
 question of; Storer, with Carlisle in; news from; colonies in; His
 Majesty's subjects in; Prohibitory Bill; Selwyn on the war in;
 letter-writing between England and; Selwyn regarding politics in;
 want of interest in society concerning; Fox's motion to conclude
 peace with; public interest in; motion as to; President of
 Congress.
 Amhurst, Lord
 Andre, Major
 Androche, Marshal
 Argyle, fifth Duke of
 Arnold, Benedict
 Ascough, Mr.
 Ashburnham, second Earl of
 Ashburton, Lord, see Dunning
 Ashton, Thomas
  Ashton, Mr.
 Assembly of Notables, National
 Astley, Mr.
 Aston, Sir W.
 Auckland, First Lord, see Eden
 Aylesford (Ailsford) Lord;  Lord of      the Bedchamber

B

Baker, Dr.
 Balbi, Comtesse de
 Balliol College
 Baltimore, Lord
 Bampton Lectures (Dr. White's)
 "Baptist," the, see Henry St. John
 Barbot's Lottery
 Barker, Mr.
 Barrington, Lord
 Barry, Mme. Du "Anecdotes of"
 Barry, Richard, sixth Earl of Barrymore,
Barry, Richard, seventh Earl of Barrymore
 Barry, Mr.
 Barrymore, Lady
 Barrymore, Lord, see Barry
 Barth, Mrs.
 Basilico
 Bath
 Beauchamp, Lord
 Beauclerk, Topham; married to Lady Bolingbroke
 Beaufort, Duke of
 Beckford, Alderman
 Beckford, William, son of Alderman Beckford, author and collector
 Bedford, fourth Duke of
 Bedford, fifth Duke of
 Bedford, Duchess of
 Bedford faction
 Bedford House; parties at
Belgiojoso
 Berkeley, Lord
 Berry, Agnes
 Berry, Mary
 Bertie, Lord
 Besbborough, Lord
 "Betty, Lady," see Howard, Lady Elizabeth
 Biron, Duchesse de
 Biron, Admiral, see Byron
 Biron, Mrs.
 Biron, Duc de
 Blake, Miss
 Blake, Mr.
 Blake, Mrs.
 Blandford, Lord
 Blaquiere, Sir John
 Blenheim
 Bloomsbury Gang
 Bohn, Comte de
 Boisgelin, Comte de
 Bolingbroke, Lady
 Bolingbroke, Lord "Bully,"
 Boon, Charles
 Boothby, Mrs.
 Boothby, Sir Brooke
 Boston, Lady
 Boston, Frederick, second Baron
 Bouverie, Mr.
 Bouverie, Mrs.
 Boufflers, Comtesse de; Queen of the emigres; at Richmond
 Boufflers, Emilie, Comtesse de; at Richmond
 Brereton, Col.
 Bristol, Earl of
 Brodrick (Broderick), Colonel Henry
 Brooke, Earl of
 Brooks, Mr.
 Brooks's Club, politics and gambling at; fortunes lost at;
     card-room at; macaronis at; Fox and Fitzpatrick at; gossip at;
     Selwyn at; American question discussed at; supper at;
     ill attended; political discussion at; in opposition to;
     Fox closeted every instant at; a place of amusement,
     speculation, and curiosity; Whigs at, in 1781; Fox gives
     audiences at
 Brudenell, Lord
 Buccleugh, Duchess of
 Buccleugh, third Duke of

 Buckingham, Lady
 Buckingham, Lord
 Buckingham House Junto
 Buckinghamshire, third Earl of
 Buffon, Mme.
 "Bully," see Bolingbroke
 Bunbury, Lady Sarah; charm of; sought after by the king; social
     successes in Paris; Carlisle's youthful passion fon; at Lord
     March's
 Bunbury, Sir Charles
 Bunker's Hill, Battle of
 Burgoyne, General
 Burke, Edmund; bad judgment of in Parliament
 Burrows, Mr.
 Bute, Lady
 Byron, Lord
 Byron, Lord (the poet)
 Byron (Biron), Admiral, The Hon. John

C

Cadogan, Lady
 Calas, Jean
 Calonne, M. de
 Cambis, Mme. De
 Cambridge University;  Walpole at
 Camelford, Lord
 Campbell, Mr. (first Baron Cawdor)
 Camden, Earl
 Carlisle, third Earl of
 Carlisle, fourth Earl of
 Carlisle, fifth Earl of, Frederick Howard; in America, letters from
Hare and Selwyn; Selwyn's letters to, commence; sketch of life;'
     Order of Thistle; delay of Ribband and Badge; fears for health
     at Turin; friendship for Fox; Fox and Carlisle at Eton; anxiety
     regarding Fox's prodigality; Viceroy of Ireland; Storer to;
     ill; Peace Commissioner to America; recalled from Ireland;
     children of; high ideals; thankfulness for Selwyn's friendship.
 Carlisle, sixth Earl of, see Howard, George, Viscount Morpeth
 Carlisle, Isabella, Countess Dowager of
 Carlisle, Lady Caroline Gower, (wife of the fifth Earl)
 Carmarthen, Lord
 Carpenter, Lady Almeria
 Carteret, Harry
 Carysfort, Lord
 Castle Howard
 Castle Inn, Richmond
 Catherine, Empress of Russia
 Cavendish, Lord Frederick
 Cavendish, Lord George
 Cavendish, Lord John
 Cawdor, first Lord, see Campbell
 Chamberlain, Lord
 "Charles," see Fox
 Charlotte, Queen, wife of George III.
 Chartres, Duc de
 Chatelet, Duc de
 Chatham, first Earl of
 Chatham, second Earl of
 Cholmondeley, Lord
 Chedworth, Lord
 Choiseul, Duc de
 Choiseul, Duchesse de
 Choiseul, Mons. De
 Choiseul, Mme. De
 Chudleigh, Elizabeth, see Kingston, Duchess of
 Churchill, Lord
 Clarence, Duke of
 Clarendon, Lord
 Clavering, Mr.
 Clerk of the Irons
 Clermont, Lady
 Clermont, Lord
 Cleveland, Duchess of
 Clinton, Sir Henry
 Clive, Lord
 Club, Young
 Comb Compton, Lady
 Compton, Lord
 Comyns, picture cleaner
 Congreve, Mr.
 Conolly, Lady Louisa
 Conti, Princesse de
 Conway, General
 Cooper, Sir Grey
 Cornwallis, Lady
 Cornwallis, Lord
 "Corydon," Lord
 "Corydon," Captain
 Coventry, Earl of
 Coventry, Lady
 Cowper, Lady
 Cowper, Lord
 Craddock, Mr.
 Craigs, General
 Craven, Lord
 Crawford, James, "the Fish,"
 Crawford, Mrs.
 Crewe, Mr.
 Crewe, Mrs.
 Crewe, Mrs. ("Old")
 Croome (Crome)
 Cumberland, Duke of
 Cunningham, Colonel

D

Damer, Mrs.
 Darell, Mr., of Cambridgeshire
 Darrels, The, at Richmond
 Dashwood, Sir Francis
 Deerhurst, Lord
 D'Elci, Comte
 Delme, Peter ("the Czar")
 Denbigh, Lord
 D'Eon (the Chevalier)
 Derby, Earl of
 Derby, Lady
 Dering, Sir E.
 Devonshire, Duchess of
 Devonshire, fifth Duke of
 Devonshire House
 "Diaboliad, The,"
 igby, Dean of Clonfert
 igby, Lord
 igby, Miss
 Digby, Mr.
 Dlettanti, Society of
 DOyley (Doiley), Mr.
 D'Oraison
 Dorset, Duke of
 Dolben, Sir J.
 Douglas, Jack
 Draper, Sir W.
 Du Deffand, Mme.
 Du Deffand, Marquis
 Dundas, Sir William
 Dunning, John, first Baron Ashburton
 Dunmore, Lady

E

Eardley, Sir S.
 Eden, William, first Lord Auckland
 Eden, Mrs.
 Edgcumbe, Dick; one of Strawberry Hill Group
 Egremont, Lord
 Ekins, Dr. Jeffrey (tutor to Lord Carlisle,  afterwards   Dean   of
     Carlisle)
 Elliot, Mrs.
 Elliot, Sir Gilbert
 Ellis, Mr.
 Ellis, Welbore
 Ellishere, Mrs.
 Emigres, the
 Emly, Edward (Dean of Derry) "Emily," "the little Parson"
 Emperor of Germany, see Joseph II.
 Ernham, Lord
 Essex, Lady
 Essex, Earl of
 Eton, Selwyn at; Carlisle at; Crawford at; Carlisle's verses on
     friends at; Fitzpatrick at; Walpole at; Storer at; Fitzwilliam
     at; Montem at; Lord Morpeth at
 Euston, Lord
 Eyre, Mr.
 Executions, Selwyn and

F

Fagniani, M.
 Fagniani, Marchesa, mother of Mie Mie
 Fagniani, Maria (and see Mie Mie)
 Falkener, Sir Everard
 Family compact
 Fanshaw, Mr.

 Farrington, Gen., of Kent
 Faukener, Lady
 Faukener, Mr.
 Fauquiers
 Ferguson, Sir Adam
 Ferrers, Washington, fifth Earl; Robert, sixth Earl
 Fish, the, see Crawford
 Fitzherbert, Mrs.
 Fitzpatrick, Richard ("Richard, the Beau Richard"); at Quinze;
     friendship with Fox; losses at Newmarket; returns from Jamaica;
     in "The Diaboliad;" wins money at Brooks's; Pharo bank; in his
     Pharo pulpit; horses taken from his coach; holds a gambling
     bank; Fox as security for; the Beau Richard; at Brooks's; loses
     at Hazard; at White's;  with the King; elated at change of
     ministry; provokes Selwyn
 Fitzroy, Lady Caroline

 Fitzwilliam, Lady
 Fitzwilliam, second Earl
 Fletcher, Mr.
 Flood, Henry
 Floyd, Lady Mary
 Floyd, Miss
 Foley, Thomas, second Baron
 Foster, Lady
 Fort St. John
 Fox, Charles James, "Charles,"; chief of group; great qualities;
     coalition with Lord North; friendship with Carlisle; gambling
     debts; leader of Whig party; fortune destroyed; Selwyn advises
     concerning debts; goes to Bath; suggested sueing of, by
     Carlisle; money troubles, Selwyn's opinion of; women's opinion
     of; frequent story of debts; friendship for Richard
     Fitzpatrick; loses money at Newmarket; on the American
     Question; in "The Diaboliad;" Selwyn and; speech on economy;
     holds Pharo bank; Fitzpatrick with; Jews seize effects; his
     furniture sold; enchanted with Pitt's speech; motion concerning
     American war; auction at his house; gaming; and Selwyn; has a
     cockpit; flattery of; speech; first figure in all places; loses
     heavily at races; agreeableness of; Selwyn's admiration of his
     talents; arrogance of; the new administration; as Secretary for
     Foreign Affairs; takes a house in Pall Mall; coalition with
     North; Selwyn, relations with
 Fox, Henry Edward, youngest son of first Lord Holland

 Fox, Henry Richard Vassall, third Baron Holland
 Fox, Stephen, second Baron Holland, "Ste"
 France
 Franklin, Benjamin
 Fraser, Mr.
 Frederick the Great
 French Revolution

G

Gainsborough; picture of Mie Mie by
 Galloway, Earl of
 Garlies, Lord, see Galloway
 Garrick, David
 Garrick, Mrs.
 Gemm, Dr.
 "George," see Howard, George, Lord Morpeth
 George III.
 Germaine, Lord George Sackville
 Gibbon (historian)
 Gideon, Sir Sampson
 Gilbert, Mr. Thomas
 Glenbervie, Lord, Sylvester Douglas
 Glendower, Lord
 Gloucester, Duchess of
 Gloucester, Duke of
 Gloucester, monastery of St. Peter at; situation of; city of,
     Selwyn member for; election at
 Godolphin, Lord
 Goostree's (Club)
 Gore, Mr.
 Gordon, fourth Duke of
 Gordon, Duchess of
 Gordon, Lord George
 Gordon, Lord William
 Gower, Lady
 Gower, Lady Evelyn Leveson
 Gower, Lady Louisa Leveson (sister-in-law of fifth Earl of
     Carlisle)
 Gower, second Earl
 Grady Mr.
 Grafton, Duke of
 Graham, Dr.
 Graham, Lady
 Grant, General
 Grantham, Lord
 Gray, Thomas, the poet
 Greenville, Mr. (Grenville)
Greenwich's, The
 Gregg, Francis, succeeded Delme as M.P. for Morpeth
 Grenville, Mr. George
 Grenville, G., Lady
 Grevil
 Grey, Lord
 Grieve, Mr.
 Grosvenor Place
 Guerchy
 Guildford, Earl of, see North
 Guise, Mr.
 Gunning, Elizabeth (afterwards Duchess of Hamilton)
 Gunning, Elizabeth

 Gunning, Charlotte Margaret
 Gunning, maria
 Gunning, Miss
 Gunning, Sir Robert

H

Hamilton, Duchess of
 Hamilton, Duke of

 Hanger, Will

 Harcourt, Lord
 Hare, James;  Losses at Newmarket; at Lady Betty's; at Almack's;
     letter to; with Fox; at Brooks's; opens Pharo bank; letter on
     London society; at White's
 Harridans, the
 Harrington, Lady
 Harrington, Lord
 Harris, Alderman

 Hart Hall (Oxford)
 Hartley, Mr.
 Hautefort, Marquis de
 Hawke, Sir S.
 Hay, Adam, Member for Peebles
 Henault, President
 Heneage, Mr.
 Hertford College, Selwyn at; Charles Fox at
 Hertford, Lady
 Hertford, Lord
 Hervey, second son of Lord
 Hervey, Lady
 Hillsborough, Lord
 Hinchcliff, Dr.
 Holderness, Earl of
 Holland, Henry Fox, first Lord Holland
 Holland, Stephen Fox, second Lord, see Fox
 Holland, Henry, third Lord Holland
 Holland, Lady, Georgiana Caroline Gordon, wife of first Lord
     Holland; death of; funeral of
 Holland, Lady Mary
 Holland House. fire at
 Horton, Mrs.
 Houghton, sale of pictures at
Howard, Frederick, fifth Earl of Carlisle, see Carlisle
 Howard, George, Viscount Morpeth, afterwards sixth Earl of
     Carlisle, "George"
 Howard, Frederick, third son of fifth Earl of Carlisle
 Howard, William, second son of fifth Earl
 Howard, Lady Caroline, daughter of fifth Earl of Carlisle
     (afterwards Lady Cawdor); marriage
 Howard, Lady Charlotte, daughter of fifth Earl of Carlisle
 Howard, Lady Elizabeth ("Lizzy"), daughter of the fifth Earl of
     Carlisle
 Howard, Lady Gertrude (afterwards Lady G. Sloane Stanley), daughter
     of the fifth Earl of Carlisle
 Howard, Lady Anne, sister of the fifth Earl of Carlisle
 Howard, Lady Elizabeth ("Betty"), sister of the fifth Earl of
     Carlisle (afterwards Lady Delme)
 Howard, Lady Frances, sister of the fifth Earl
 Howard, Lady Mary
 Howard, Lady Julia, sister of the fifth Earl
 Howard, George, Lieut.-General
 Howard, Mr. (afterwards Duke of Norfolk)
 Hughes, Mr.
 Hume, David; history
 Huntingdon, Lord

I

Ilchester, Stephen Fox, first Earl of
 Ilchester, Henry Thomas, second Earl of, see Stavordale
 Inchiquin, Lord
 Intercourse Bill
 Ireland; Lord Carlisle recalled from
 Irwin, Sir J.

J

Jay, John
 Jersey, Lady
 Jersey, fourth Earl of
 Jockey Club
 Johnson, Samuel, his "Lives of the Poets"
 Johnston, George
 Jones, Mrs.
 Jones, Thomas
 Joseph II., Emperor of Germany
 Junius
 Junto, the blue and buff

K

Kane, Colonel
 Keene, Mr.
 Keith, Sir R.
 Kemble
 Keppel, Admiral, First Viscount; First Lord of the Admiralty
 Kildare, William Robert, Marquis of
 King, The, see George III.
 Kingston, Duchess of; trial of
 Kingston, Duke of

L

La Fayette, Marquis de

 Lamb, Sir M.
 Lambert, Sir J.
 ansdowne, Lord (see Shelburne)
 Langdales, The
 Langlois, Mr.
 Lascells, The two
 Laurens, Henry, President of the American Congress
 Lee, Mr.
 Leeds, Duke of
 Leinster, Duchess of
 Leinster, Duke of
 Lely, Sir Peter
 Lennox, Charles, third Duke of Richmond
 L'Espinasse, Mile.
 Lewis, Mr.
 Lewisham, Lady
 Lignonier, Lord
 Lincoln, Lord
 Lisbourne, Lord
 Lothian, Lord
 Lotteries, Conty's
 Loughborough, Lord
 Louis XV.
 Louis XVI.
 "Louisa, Lady," see Gower
 Lucan, Lady
 Lucan, Lord
 Ludgershall, borough in Wiltshire
 Luxembourg, Duc de
 Lyttleton, Lord
 Lyttleton, Sir George
 Lyttleton, Sir Richard

M

Macall
 Macaronis
 Macartney, Lady
 Macartney, Sir George, afterwards Lord Macartney
 Macclesfield, Lord
 Macdonald, Sir Archibald
 Mahon, Lord
 Maintenon, Mme. De
 Malden, Viscount
 Malesherbes, Minister under Louis XVI.
 Manchester, Duke of
 Mann, Sir Horace
 Manners, Jack
 Mannin's, a macaroni dinner at
 Mansfield, Lord
 March, Lord, afterwards fourth Duke of Queensberry, see Queensberry
 Marchmont, Lord
 Marie Antoinette
 Marlborough, Duchess of
 Marlborough, fourth Duke of
 Marlborough House
 Mattesdone, Phillippus de
 Matson; village, manor house
 Maury, Abbe
 Mawbey, Sir Joseph
 Maynard, Sir William
 Medmenham
 Meillor, Mrs.
 Melbourne, Lady
 Melbourne, Lord
 Menil, see Meynell
 Metham, Sir G.
 Methuen, Mr.
 Meynell, Mr.
 Middletons, The
 Mie Mie; at Campden House; leaves England, relatives negotiated
     with for her return; description of; at Richmond; at the
     Assembly; sitting to Gainsborough; at the Opera
 Minto, Lord
 Molyneux, Lord
 Monson, Lord
 Montagu, Sir C.
 Montem
 Montgomery, Sir William
 More, Mr.
 More, Sir J.
 Morpeth, Lord, afterwards sixth Earl of Carlisle, see Howard,
     George
 Morpeth, borough of
 Musgrave, Dr.
 Musgrave, Sir William, of Hayton Castle

N

Nabobs, Indian
 Napier, George
 Napier, Lord Francis
 Napier, Sir Charles fames
 Napier, Sir George Thomas
 Napier, Sir William Francis
 Naworth
 Neasdon, school at
 Necker, M.; abuse of
 Nevills, The
 Newcastle, Duke of
 Newmarket
 Nicolson, Mr.
 Norfolk, Duke of
 North, Lord, fourth Earl of Guildford; Selwyn's description of;
     fall of his Ministry
 North, Frederick, fifth Earl of Guildford
 North, Mrs.
 Northington, second Earl of
 Northumberland, Duchess of
 Northumberland, second Duke of
 Norton, Sir Fletcher
Nugent, Lord

O

O'Brien (Lord Inchiquin)
 Offley, Mr.
 Ogilvy, Mr.
 Oliver, Mr.
 Onslow
 Onslows, The
 Ord, Maria
 Orford, third Lord
 Orford, fourth Lord
 Oriel College
 Orleans, Duke of
 Ossory, John, second Earl of
 Ossory, Lady
 Owen, Mr.
 Oxford, University of; corporation of; Lord Morpeth at

P

Palliser, Sir Hugh
 Paris; Treaty of
Parker, George Lane
 Payne, Jack
 Payne, Lady
 Payne, Sir R.
 Pelham, Henry
 Pelham, Lady Frances
 Pelham, Miss
 Pembroke, Lady
 Pembroke, Lord
 Pennant, Thomas
 Penthurst (Penshurst)
 Pepys, Sir Lucas
 Percys
 Petersham, Lord
 Phelippeaux, Jean Frederic, Comte de Maurepas' recognition of the
     U.S.
 Phillips, General
 Pierre, servant of Selwyn's
Pigott, Admiral
 Piozzi, Mme, (Mrs. Thrale)
 Piquet, La Motte
 Pitt, Thomas (uncle of William)
 Pitt, William; personal relations with Wilberforce; Duchess of
     Gordon confidante of; sudden rise of, first speech; second
     speech; Selwyn hears him speak; another speech of; his young
     political friends; expected to join the Cabinet; gives Selwyn a
     place; remains in office; at Windsor with Lord Thurlow; Selwyn
     asked to meet him at dinner
 Plympton
 Pompadour, Mme. De
 Pompeio
 Ponsonby, Mr.
 Pontcarre, M. de
 Porten (Portine), Sir Stanier
 Portland, Duke of
 Pottinger, Mr.
 Powell, Mr.
 Powis, Lady
 Priestly, Dr.
 Proby, Sir John
 Public Advertiser

Q

Queen (of England), see Charlotte, wife of George III.
 Queensberry, William Douglas, third Earl of March, fourth Duke of
     Queensberry, "Old Q"; character and life
 Queensberry, fifth Duke of
 Queensberry villa

R

Radcliffe, John
 Raikes, Mr.
 Ramsden, Sir J.
 Raton, Selwyn's dog
 Ravensworth, Lady
 Ravensworth, Lord
 Rawdon, Lord
 Regency, English, question of
 Regency, French
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua; Selwyn's joke on
 Rich, Sir R.
 "Richard," see Fitzpatrick
 Richards, Mr.
 Richelieu, Marechal de
 Richmond, Charles Lennox, second Duke of
 Richmond, Duchess of
 Richmond, Mr.
 Richmond-on-Thames, a fashionable resort; Duke of York at; theatre
 Ridley, Sir M.
 Rigby, Right Hon. Richard
 Robinson, John, Secretary to the Treasury; Selwyn on
 Robinson, Mrs.
 Rockingham, second Marquis of; party meeting at house of; Cabinet;
     Thurloe's negotiations with; and Shelburne; and King; and
     Carlisle; first Lord of the Treasury; formation of Ministry
 Rohan, Cardinal de
 Roncherolles, Mme. De
 Rosslyn, Lord
 Roxburghe, Duke of
 Rutland, Duchess of
 Rutland, fourth Duke of

S

Sackville, Viscount, see Lord George Germaine
 St. John, Frederick
 St. John, John; legacy from Lord Guildford
 St. John, Henry; legacy from Lord Guildford
 Salisbury, Bishop of
 Salisbury, seventh Earl of
 Salveyne
 Sandwich, John George Montagu, fourth Earl of
 "Sarah, Lady," see Bunbury
 Sardinia, King of
 Sawbridge, Mr.
 Scott, General
 Scott, Mr.
 Seabright, Sir J.
 Sefton, Lady
 Selwin, Mr., banker in Paris
 Selwyn, Albinia (afterwards Lady Sydney), Matson re-entailed on her
     descendants
 Selwyn family
 Selwyn, George Augustus; importance in society, as wit, as beau,
     man of fashion, bon mots, jokes fathered on, reputation; a type
     of his time, life, ancestry, inheritance of social qualities,
     Walpole's "famous George"; possession of Matson, description of
     house; to remove gateway of Lantony Priory, schooldays,
     sobriquet, holder of sinecure post, illness; recovery, at
     Oxford, in Paris, harshly judged at college, no attempt to
     renounce pleasure; attends Duchess of Bedford to Paris; member
     of Parliament, appointed Paymaster of the Works; life
     uneventful, adoption of Mie Mie, anxiety for her; grief at her
     departure, at Castle Howard, at Milan; fear of losing Mie Mie,
     delight in her companionship, his friends; friend of Fox,
     annoyed by his recklessness, lover of the town, journey to
     Yorkshire; welcome everywhere; as a politician, Parliamentary
     career, personal associations; as a gossip, at executions;
     anecdote of George III. and character of, by Mme. du Deffand;
     francophile, a favourite in France; secret of charm of; life
     comparatively simple, his death a loss to society; commences
     corrrespondence with Carlisle; admiration for Mme. de Sevigne,
     letters compared with Walpole's, time spent in Paris,
     friendship for Carlisle; friendship with Grafton; at Vauxhall;
     advises Carlisle regarding Fox's debts; the tie; praise of
     Tunbridge; proposed for Royal Society; at Devonshire House;
     goes to Lyons; drum at; to Ranelagh; reception in the House of
     Commons; six weeks at Streatham; on loss of Minorca and St.
     Kitts; deprived of office, appointed Surveyor-General of Crown
     Lands; a ministerialist; ill; correspondence with Lady Carlisle
     begins; advice to young men; at Richmond; reading Bampton
     Lectures; last illness; death
 Selwyn, Jasper
 Selwyn, John, Colonel
 Selwyn, John, elder brother of George
 Selwyn, Mary, wife of Colonel John, woman of the bedchamber, mother
     of George
 Sevigne, Mme. De

 Shafto, Robert
 Shelburne, Lord
 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley
 Shirley, Mr.
 Siddons, Mrs.
 Smith, Dr., Master of Trinity College
 Smith, General
 Smithson, Sir Hugh
 Somerset, Duke of
 Sophia, Princess
 Southwell, Baron
 Spencer, George John, second Earl
 Spencer, Lady Diana
 Spencer, Lord Charles
 Spencer, Lord Robert, "Bob"
 Spratt, Bishop
 Stael, Mme. De
 Stafford, Marquis of; and see Gower
 Stanhope, Henry
 Stanhope, Lady ("Harriot") Henrietta
 Stanhope, Lord
 Stanley, Lady Betty
 Stanley, Lord
 Stapleton, Sir J.
 Stavordale, Lord; is a heavy gambler
 "Ste," second Lord Holland, see Fox
Stewart, Keith
 Stonehewer, Richard
 Storer, Anthony Morris, the "Bon ton"; belonging to the Fox group;
     opinion of Selwyn; life of; attachment to Lady Payne; kindness
     of Carlisle to; description of Pitt's third speech; writes to
     Carlisle; on East India affairs; loses at play; Lord North's
     friendship for; at Cockpit; grievances; at White's
 Stormont, Lord
 Strawberry Hill
 Stuarts, The
 Suffolk, Lord
 Suffren, Comte de
 Suffren, Comtesse de
 Sunderland, Earl of
 Surveyor of Meltings in the Mint
 Sussex, Duke of
 Sutherland, Lady
 Sydney, Thomas Townshend, first Viscount, see Townshend

T

Talbot, Lord
 Tankerville, Lord
 Tavistock, Lord
 Taunton, Lord
 Terry, Mrs.
 Tessier, Mons. (reader to the Queen)
 Thatched House Tavern
 Thomas, Sir H.
 Thomond, Lord; will of
 Thompson
 Thornbury Castle
 Thrale, Mrs. (Mrs. Piozzi)
 Thurlow, Edward, first Baron
 Townshend, Charles, Viscount
 Townshend, John, first Marquis
 Townshend, Lady
 Townshend, Thomas, Viscount Sydney
 Torrington, Lord
 Trentham, Lord
 Trinity College
 Tuesday Night Club
 Tunbridge, Selwyn's opinion of
 Turgot
 Turner, Charles
 Tynte, Sir C.

V

Valiere, Duchesse de la
 Vanbrugh, Sir John
 Vanheck, Mrs.
 Vanheck, Sir Jos.
 Varcy
 Varey
 Vaupaliere, Mme. de la
 Vergennes, M. de
 Vernon, Lady H.
  Vernon, Richard
 Viri, Comte de

W

Waldegrave, Captain
 Waldegrave, Lady
 Waldegrave, Lord
 Wales, Prince of (George IV.)
 Walker, Mr.
 Wallis, Mr.
 Walpole, Horace; on illness of Selwyn; his "out-of-town party" at
     his villa; opinion of men of letters; his life; arrives at
     Matson; at Richmond; Pennant accused of copying style; mourns
     death of Selwyn
 Walpole, Sir Robert
 Walsingham, Lord
 Warenzow
 Warren, Lady
 Warren, Dr. Richard
 Warner, Rev. Dr.
 Washington, George
 Webb, Mrs. (Selwyn's lady housekeeper)
 Webster, Mr.
 Wedderburn, see Loughborough
 Weltzies (Club)
 West, Richard
 Westmoreland, Lord
 Weymouth, Lord
 Whately, Mr.
 Whistler, Sir Godfrey
 White's Club; Lord North at; Selwyn and Sir J. Irwin at; Selwyn in
     the card room; Selwyn prefers it to Brooks's; pharo at; Storer
     at; Hare and Fitzpatrick at
 Wiart (Mme. de Deffand's secretary)
 Wilberforce
 Wilkes, Mr. John (Willes)
 Williams, George James ("Gilly")
 Williams, Sir Charles Hanbury
 Williams, William Peere
 Willoughby, Sir Ambrose
 Wills, Mr.
 Winchelsea, Lord
 Windham, Percy
 Woburn
 Woodcock, Mr.
 Woodcock, Mrs.
 Woodfall, Mr.
 Woodhouse, Mrs.
 Worcester, Bishop of
 Worsley, Lady
 Worsley, Sir Richard
 Wrottesley, Sir J.


Y

Yarmouth, Earl of, third Marquis of Hertford
 York, Duke of
 York, Frederick, Duke of
 York, Mr.
 Young, Sir W.

Z

Zamparini, a dancer