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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(114) Lady Holland died on July 24th.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(129) See ante, note 105.

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

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

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

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

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

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

(133) Lord Bolingbroke.

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

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

Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(137) See note (109)

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

Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER 4. 1781 THE DISASTERS IN AMERICA

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

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