George Selwyn: His Letters and His Life

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.

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.

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-Poli

tics 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.