The Fish voted with us, and upon the merit of this assistance, and at this important crisis, I suppose something was founded, for when the H(ouse) was up, he was never from Lord North's elbow. Notwithstanding Charles's impatience, it will not be settled all this (month?) till the Easter holidays, and how it will be settled then, I do not conceive. They talk now of Barre for Rigby's place. I have never once heard my nephew's(218) name in any part of the arrangement, but he has, I presume, a situation fixed in his own mind, as adequate to his consequence. Young Pitt expects to be sent for from the circuit to the Cabinet, but not in a subordinate capacity. George has not sent from Neasdon any proposals to the K(ing), so I suppose (e is)waiting till he can negotiate a Peace. I wish that I could overhear him in his rhetorical mood.

(218) Thomas Townshend.

(1782, March 16,) Saturday noon.—Lord G(ower) assured me that he knew that at this juncture there was no arrangement; that there certainly would be, and soon; that it was impossible to guess at the disposal of the parts. That Charles would be, and has been, a thorn in the side of his party; that the Ministers would not suffer him to rule, nor would the country gentlemen endure him. But you might be recalled; that it was not now an object of ambition to be the Governor of Ireland; that he thought it would have been a lucky event for you, and that it would have afforded you an occasion of resigning, the best that you could have had; for things would grow worse, and that hitherto all had been well, and that you might now come away without reproach; but that your circumstances opposed this option.. He was, on account of the great expense and your love of show, afraid how these would be hurt; that he could not help being alarmed, notwithstanding the prospect Mr. Gregg held out of saving, at one time, to provide against the extra charges of another.

I own that these reflections have often struck me, and very forcibly, and makes us in a sad dilemma and perplexity about what can be done. He assured me that as soon as he knew anything, I should be informed of it. I told him that I wish(ed) we had our four members, which could not be, unless Lord Mellbourn could be made by some consideration to vacate his seat; but if we had, I would risk my fortune in Government with yours, and take my chance, and be served in the second place, when those had the administration with whom we could draw.

What these will do, and in what manner they will treat the King's friends, the Lord only knows. Charles made it an objection, your attachment to the King; that was beginning well. He has none, God knows. His countenance to Hare or Fitzpatrick are [is] no proof of it to me. People can like and protect those who are subservient to them, and persecute them when they are not. Had he been capable of a good sentiment, he would have had one for you. Instead of that, he puts your fortune into immediate danger, by a sacrifice of his honour and engagement, and when he has done that, you and those attached to you are treated as mercenary, and illiberal, because you desire to be rescued from the impending ruin. Not a hundredth part of what has been said on this subject comes to my knowledge, but enough to fill me with horror and indignation.

While I was writing, and just before my dinner came up, I saw Mr. Cook, who brought me your letter. You needed not to have cautioned me against asking after matters of state. Those nearer to me are no objects of curiosity, further than you are concerned in them. It is a pleasure to have such a recent account of your being well. I wish my letters could go as speedily to you, to prevent the radotage incident to letters of an old date. Your correspondence with Lord Hilsborough will soon cease; who(m) you will have to write to afterwards I have not heard. It may be Charles.

Hare and Richard came into White's just before dinner. I stopped there to hear what was going on. They can talk of nothing but the demolition of the last Ministry, and abbai(s)sement of his Majesty, but of this they speak without reserve. Lord Cov(entry) was there, as malignant and insulting as possible. It requires some degree of temper to refrain from a reply to these things, but I shall. I have made up my mind to these revers; no future minister can hurt me, for none will I ever trust.

Lord North and his Secretary, Robinson, have acted such a part by me that I should never have believed anything but a couple of attorneys of the lowest class to have done; but my conduct has been uniform, and not changed towards the King, whom I have meant, though unsuccessfully, to support. Had I been a bargain-maker, I could have made as good a one with the Opposition as another, and could have justified it better.

I hope that in about a week more, I shall be able to send you such intelligence as will put us both out of doubt of what is or ought to be done. Lord G(ower), I believe, six months ago, wanted to be at the head of affairs; he might now, but will not.(219) Nothing but the worse management on earth in our leaders could have brought things to such an issue.

(219) "Attempts were made to induce Shelburne and afterwards Gower to construct a Government but they speedily failed." (Lecky, vol. iv. p. 203).

(1782,) March 18, Monday m(orning).—I am sorry to begin my letter with telling you that George is again in my house, but so it is. Mr. Raikes brought him to me, and little Eden to the surgeon's, on account of his chilblains, yesterday morning in a post chaise. Sir N. T(homas) came, and he ordered George to be blooded, which he was directly, and wrote other prescriptions. I believe there was some James's powder taken last night, and he is to help his cough with something in a certain degree emetic. His pulse were [was] above a hundred, and his cough very troublesome, but there is nothing that forebodes any mischief. I do not hear of the least apprehensions of that. Dr. Ekins was here, and Mr. Nevison. Lady G[ower] could not come on account of her cold, Lord G(ower) will be here this morning. . . .

I have no objection to declaring my own [opinion], but I beg you and Lady Carlisle to know that what is done now, if it is with my opinion, it was not in consequence of it, for I have been perfectly passive. Dr. Ekins went done to Whitehall to acquaint Lord and Lady G(ower) with this, who approved of what was done, and last night I was there myself; and Lord G(ower) and I had more conversation with him upon this horrid situation of affairs. That I should be much disturbed about them, on your account, and my own, is not extraordinary. I have, in certain circumstances, fixed and determined in my own mind what would be most becoming for us both to do, and what in the end would be most advantageous, but I shall not obtrude my advice upon you, whose judgment I hold in higher esteem, infinitely, than my own, and whose temper is more equal. But I will say what I believe to be the state of things now, and what they probably will be, and you will judge the best, it may be both for yourself and me.

I called in at Brooks's last night, but avoided all conversation, and will for the future with any one belonging to the party. Their insolence, their vanity and folly, and the satisfaction expressed in their countenances, upon fancying themselves Ministers, and going into the place of them, as they think, and to drive the K(ing) from every shadow of power and dignity, is no object to me now of mirth; so, as I cannot help it, or approve it, and shall get nothing by a dispute with such people, I am determined to act for my own part —what I think is becoming me to do—to resign all ideas of pecuniary advantage, if I cannot have them upon the terms I like, and wait for better times.

The P(rince) of W(ales) supped the night before last at Lord Derby's; there were as I am told no less than six courses; the women were Lady Payne, Lady Jersey, perhaps Lady Mellbourne; I have not as yet been informed of particulars. He stayed there till six, and then, I hear, carried Charles home in his coach. He canvassed in the last Question against his father. Lord Mellbourne stayed away at his instigation. In this he has acted contrary to his engagements. He says that he purchased his seat at Luggershall.(220) It is a falsehood. If he did, he has not paid the money he ought for it; but both Lord N(orth) and Robinson have acted in this, towards me, in the most scandalous manner in the world, and I will inform the K(ing) of it myself by an audience, if I can find no other means of doing it.

I warned Lord North over and over again of this supercherie. I knew his intention, and he was so weak as to neglect the means of pinning this fitz scrivener, [this] fitz coachman, this fitz cook to his word, and putting it in his power to use me in this manner, as if he had bought of me a seat in Parliament, which no man living ever yet did, but the King himself.

Lord Gower told me last night, that it might be a week before it was possible to guess in the least how things would [be] settled; he believed that the King would not send for you from Ireland, unless you chose it. I think, and so I told him, that that was more than the King himself could answer for.

I am now confident they would give it to the Duke of Devonshire if he would accept it; he will not, and the Duke of Portland, that jolt-headed calf, certainly will.(221) I wish to have nothing but Buckinghams and Portlands for their subalternate ministers as long as they are at Court, and then their damned Administration will be over in six months, and they sunk into the herd of the people, and the contempt which they deserve from any man of sobriety and character.

Rigby and Lord G(ower) werd in another room in close conference a great while. The negotiation has been carried on, but at present broke off, between the Chancellor and Lord Rock(ingham). Burke's Bill, they say, is insisted on, that is, a Bill which, while they promise the public to carry into execution, they are determine(d) shall be rendered (as) ineffectual as this they broke off. The Chancellor went yesterday out of town.

The thought of a new Administration is so prevalent with Charles that he would not go to Newmarket. I heard him last night tell his people that he saw no reason, when he was Minister, that he or his assistants in Administration should sit upon the Treasury bench. The merry and the sad, as my Lord Clarendon says, have employment enough, while these actors are dressing themselves up for the play, and rehearsing their parts.

(220) Lord Melbourne was returned with Selwyn as M.P. for borough of Ludgershall on September 12, 1780.

(221) The Duke of Portland succeeded Lord Carlisle as Viceroy of Ireland on the formation of the Rockingham Ministry.



(1782,) March 19, Tuesday, 11 o'clock, morning.—. . . . Gregg dines with me to-day. He has been ever since Friday last at Saffron Walden, so I have as yet not seen him. I have a great deal to say to him. The seeming impossibility of your staying in Ireland agreeably to your own sentiments, and the inconvenience which returning suddenly will be to your private affairs, gives me at this moment not a little disquietude, and Lord G(ower) cannot help it, by any lights which as yet he has himself.

I saw Charles last night, and by accident was alone with me (him); he stretched out his hand to me with great good humour. I could have asked him an abundance of questions, and could have reasoned with him a great while. For although in that sphere he has much superiority to me, he has not the faculty of persuading me in the least of what I know to be without reason, and a great part of which he knows to be so himself. However, I did not, for fear of betraying a want of temper which could be of no use, and I asked him no questions, lest he should interpret them ill, and think that I wanted to deprecate his vengeance or solicit his favour. He must be reduced to his former despair before I shall discuss these matters with him pleasantly.

He spoke of all coming to a final issue now within a very short space of time; he talked of the King under the description of Satan, a comparison which he seems fond of, and has used to others; so he is sans management de paroles. It is the bon vainqueur et despotique; he has adopted all the supremacy he pretended to dread in his Majesty. It seems a dream that I survey his figure, and know his history. His talents are great, but talents alone never operated in this manner.

When he said how few days we had to subsist, I uttered in an humble voice, "Greek text"; I have forgot to write my Greek. To that he said, "You are in the right—that is the only reflection which can be suggested for your comfort, but it is next to an impossibility." He talks of us so much as an Opposition, that even the Wine Surplus, which we call a majority, is forgot, and I wonder he does not in his sleep walk into St. James's with the seals of his new Government in his hand. He told me that he would make me a Baronet, for my vote to-morrow night. The Duke of Devonshire said gravely, "A vast price for one vote only!" Charles Turner has seriously insisted upon it.

The Fish told Lord N(orth) the other night, after the Division, that he had only three bottles left of that champagne which he liked so much, and if he would come and dine with him they were at his service. Lord North replied, archly enough, "What! still, Mr. Craufurd, may I dine with you?"

(1782,) March 21, Thursday m(orning).—In the midst of all that multiplicity of distress and confusion in which I am at present, as well as the public, I will not omit to let you know that, excepting the cough, George is very well. . . . What happened yesterday in the H(ouse) of C(ommons), of which you will by various channels know the particulars, with many more in a few days, must for ever astonish you, if you were not sufficiently apprised of the characters of the persons concerned. I hear that the Duke of Montagu at Windsor, the day before, told the King of the impossibility of continuing the Administration.

Lord N(orth), when he went to the King, was told abruptly of these intentions; and then He (sic) sent for the principal persons in Administration, and those who had assisted him, and having thanked them, went down to the House to declare this in his place in the manner in which you will, I suppose, see it described in the papers.(222)

The old Ministry is at an end, and of what materials the new one will be composed, the Lord knows. The insolence, the hard heartiness (sic), brutality, and stuff, which these people talk, altogether give me the worst apprehensions of what they will do, and I have only to hope that from this, which seems so irreconcilable to reason, decency, or the usual practice of Government, some system will be formed that I shall like better.

As to Lord N(orth), what happens disagreeable to him he merits in greatest degree, and if the King chooses to acquiesce in all this ill treatment of him, I see no reason why I should be offended, or feel more for a man's disgrace than he feels himself. He might have prevented it; he seemed to wish that he could; he now seems not affected by it; but je courerois risque d'extravaguan(ce) si je continuois sur le chapitre.

I stayed at Brooks's this morning till between 2 and 3, and then Charles was giving audiences in every corner of the room, and that idiot Lord D.(223) telling aloud whom'he should turn out, how civil he intended to be (to) the P(rince), and how rude to the K(ing).

Thursday night, 9 o'clock.—George is going on as before, no fever, but a cough. Sir N. T[homas] has forbid his going out as yet. I took him out airing yesterday in the middle of the day for an hour, but to-day he has had some physic.

Lord Gower and I were a long while together at Whitehall; we both agreed that, re bus sic stantibus, it seems impossible that you should stay in Ireland. Hare informs me that they do not mean to remove you. I should wonder if they did, for such an account as I have of the state of Ireland is terrible, and I am sure one cannot wish to send a friend to weather such a storm. The best thing for you would be their sending another in your room, but, if they do not do that, the next is to desire to be recalled, when you know who these Ministers are. You must expect a pause for some time in your political carriere, and you must in that interval practise a great economy, which will do you infinite credit, and then, upon a new turn of affairs you will be called with more lustre into a better situation. This was Lord Gower's opinion, and is mine.

Charles assured me, not half an hour ago, that the King had sent for nobody, that all was as much at a stand as before the Creation. Nobody knows what to make of it. But a Ministry must be formed by Monday. It is thought that my nephew will be Chancellor of the Exchequer and C(harles) Fox the Secretary of State, and of the rest I know nothing, of that nothing like intelligence (sic). It is imagined that Lord Rock(ingham) and Lord Shelbourn cannot agree.

The King had no Drawing Room, only the Queen between him and Lord Robert; Lady Sefton next to Fitzpatrick; the Prince between the D(uchesse)s of Devonshire and Cumberland; on the other side of the Duchess of Devonshire the Duke of Cumberland.

When I left the House, I left in one room a party of young men, who made me, from their life and spirits, wish for one night to be twenty. There was a table full of them drinking—young Pitt, Lord Euston, Berkley, North, &c., &c., singing and laughing a gorge deployee; some of them sang very good catches; one Wilberforce,(224) a M. of P., sang the best.

I shall go at noon(?) to Whitehall, and write again in the evening. I dine at home to-day, but to-morrow at Lord Ossory's. I would not leave my house when George was here, but Mrs. W(ebb) has a care of him, and attention to him in everything, as much as Mie Mie. Poor Lady Craufurd wished to go to this Ball. I did not know, or would have contrived it for her. She was at Lady Hertford's, but the Duchess is so (sic) at Gloucester House, so that cannot be, upon admissible terms.

Lord Sheilbourn was at Devonshire H(ouse) the whole night, which seems to countenance the report that Lord R(ockingham) and he cannot act together. Plut a Dieu que la discorde, cette deesse si utile en certaine occasions, voulut bien se meler de cet arrangement; ce seroit bien a propos. But there is no agreement among them but which tends to create confusion. Tommy T(ownshend) and his family seemed in high glee. Lady Middleton's daughter danced with my cousin of Westmoreland; il est tant soit peu gauche, sa danse a fort peu de grace. The women looked extremely well. Lord George presented to me his bride; she is her father toute crachee, but not so handsome. Charles has not bought a good coat yet upon the change in his affairs. I thought that his former calling would have supplied [it?]. Mrs. Bouverie(225) at supper. Many ladies who had not received cards were sure it was a mistake, and sent for them. This was an additional pleasure to those to whom they were sent, for here was a school for scandal as well as for dancing. Lady Warren played at Pharo; the Prince at Macco, and the Duke of Cumberland. John, with a very handsome coat, satin, couleur de mar on, and an applique of silver and des diamans faux—a coat d'hazard sent from Fripier's in the Rue de Roule. The Duke and I did not receive our cards till five o'clock. It was such a snow and hail and rain when we were coming away as never was seen.

I am glad my dear little boy is in this house now; I am sure that he would run a great risk out of it, just at this time. . . . He is mighty busy in making out his Latin with Littleton's Dictionary, which I have given him. ... I left Lady Gower and Lady Ann and the Dunmores at the Ball. The Duchess of Bedford has invited me to Bedford H(ouse) to see your letter to her. ...

Storer carries this off with such seeming spirits as are certainly more becoming than an apparent dejection. But I dread to think to what, I verily believe, that he will be reduced. I utter no complaint, but I feel the danger I am in, and the distress which it may occasion to me, and still more Lord N(orth's) abominable treatment of me. If I had resented it, as many would have done, I know what might have been said. But I have acted my part well and steadily, and when I have done all which becomes me to do, I shall make up my mind to the event.

(222) See earlier in this chapter, paragraph which begins "Notice was promptly given . . ."

(223) Probably Lord Derby, Edward, twelfth Earl (1752-1834).

(224) William Wilberforce (1759-1833), the abolitionist and philanthropist; at this time M.P. for Hull and one of Pitt's closest friends.

(225) The fashionable and courted beauty. The portrait of her and of her sister, Mrs. Crewe, together as shepherdesses, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, in 1770, attracted much notice.

(1782, March 22,) Friday m(orning), 11 o'clock.—George seems very well; his cough is considerably abated, but the weather is so remarkably wet and bad, that Sir N. T(homas) wishes him to stay within.

I was at Devonshire H(ouse) till about 4, and then left most of the company there. All the new supposed Ministers were there except Lord Rock(ingham), who had probably other business, and perhaps with the K(ing). Rigby assured me that some one was sent (for?), and if Charles did not know it, he was more out of the secret than he thought that he had been. To be sure, the arrangement is entame, la pillule est avalee, et bien des couloeuvres apres. Charles I left there; I believe that he had heard what did not come up to his full satisfaction, so probably a little water is mixed with their wine. We shall know to-day, for this strange situation of things cannot remain till Monday; la machine n'est pas construct a pouvoir alter jusques a la.

I conversed privately a good while with Lord Ashburnham. I have the greatest opinion of his judgment in the conductive part of life. I really believe, if any man ever went through life with consummate discretion, it has been himself, and he has preserved his reputation at the same time, or else I should not give his conduct this eloge. He asked me after you in the most obliging and interesting (sic) manner, and solicitude about the part you would act, not hinting a doubt of your not performing it well, but with great expressions of esteem. He hoped much that you would take this opportunity, as he said, of leaving Ireland. He said that it would be laying the foundation of a very brilliant situation to you at another time. He is very much in the right. I could not, to be sure, explain all the difficulties in the way of this. There are none, indeed, comparatively speaking.

Hare writes to you; he expresses a tenderness for your interest; je ne la revoque pas en doute, but his interests and yours are not the same. These new people will wish you perhaps to stay, and say it is from regard to you. If you believe it you will deceive yourself. If they will send another, so much the better; let their friend stay to govern Ireland when Ireland is what it will be. But if they talk of keeping you there, wait to see the Ministry established, and then ask for your recall. I hope that you will not reflect a moment with concern upon the straights to which you may be reduced by way of expense. We will do all we can to arrange this matter, but honour and figure, as you know, cannot be added, or taken from you, by expense. That is not the scale in which the respect which all the world owes and is ready to pay you and Lady C(arlisle) will be weighed. If you came from Holyhead in the stage waggon, it would only be more reputable to you. There was a strong instance of that in the story of this Duke of Newcastle's father. Lord Gower tells me that Lord Rock(ingham) is personally not attached to you from provincial reasons. I never adverted to that consideration.

The K(ing) had a most narrow escape hunting on Tuesday. His horse ran away with him; he was thrown on a gate; he seems to be marked out for a people (sic) to be distressed and disgraced in every way possible. Burke was last night in high spirits. I told him that I hope, now they had forced our entrenchments and broke loose, that he and his friends would be compassionate lions, tender-hearted hyaenas, generous wolves. You remember that speech of his; he was much diverted with the application. Our fete was very brilliant indeed, and well conducted; there was a supper for at least 300 people; eight rooms where there were tables. The Prince l'astre de la nuit, couvert de faux brilliant (sic); c'est un beau cavalier. The Duchess of Cumberland was there, but not the Princess Royale. It was proposed, as is said, that the Duke of Gloucester should be Commander in Chief.



(1782, March) 23, Saturday night.—George goes on well, but Sir N. T(homas) will not let him go out. The weather is worse than it has been at any time this winter. Leveson has been all this evening at my house to play with him.

Nothing as yet arranged, and we meet on Monday. It is imagined that we must then adjourn till Friday; about that there will be a bustle. Lord Gower was sent for yesterday morning by the King, and was with him a great while. I was this morning at Whitehall. The Chanc(ello)r was there. Gregg showed Lord G(ower) your accounts; they are better than'he expected. Charles expressed to me last night more than once an anxiety lest you should be in Opposition, and asked me if the Master of the Horse would please. I could give him no answer to that, but that it depended upon circumstances. He said Lord Cadogan's place would do for Lord Foley. That this Revolution which he brought about was the greatest for England that ever was; that excepting in the mere person of a King, it was a complete change of the Constitution; and an era ever glorious to England, and a great deal of such rhapsody. Richard insolent to a degree.

I was a good while to-day with Lord G(ower); still of opinion that your return here would be the most favourable event that could happen to you. Ossory hinted to me this afternoon that the King would see Lord Rock(ingham) to-night. Hanger assures me that Charles is better disposed to me than to anybody, but that I have enemies who surround him; so there is one friend in a corner.

On Monday I expect some envious dissertations in the H. of C. on the nature of the new Government. The Duke of Gloucester won't be Comm(ande)r in Chief for two reasons; one is, that the Duchess can be admitted at Court; and the second is that Lord Rock(ingham) will not permit it. It is meant to take the Army out of the K. hands, and that would be putting it into them. I have no more for to-night. My love and respects to your fireside, shall see Caroline again with great pleasure indeed, and the little boy.

(1782, March 27,) Wednesday night, 10 o'clock, at home.—The Cabinet Council(226) kissed hands to-day, and Dunning with the rest. He is Chancellor [of the] Duchy of Lancaster and a peer. At this I was surprised. Ashburn(h)am is kept, and all the Bedchamber. Lord Hertford is delivered up at discretion; either he or his son Isaac must be sacrificed. But his Lordship has not been thought the father of the faithful, or so himself. Their trimming has released his M(ajesty) from any obligations to protect them.

The Duke brings me word from Court that I am safe, but how I do not comprehend. To take away my place, which is to be annihilated in two months by Burke's Bill, (is absurd), and a pension I would not receive, but as an appendix to a place or as a part of it. But the D(uke), whose friendship for me is very vif, on some occasions, has fished out this for me. I could not go to Court, my temper would not permit. I could have seen my R(oyal) master on the scaffold with less pain than insulted as he has been to-day. I am going out to hear all that passed, and how he bore it. From my parlour window I saw Mr. Secretary Fox step into his chariot from his office, and Lord Shelbour(n)e and Dunning from the other office. The Levee was not over till near five, that is, the audiences, a most numerous Court—souls to be saved, and souls not to be saved.

Warner dined here, and Storer. Mie Mie went to her Academy, so I stayed at home to keep George company. He was upon the dining table hearing Warner, Storer, and I (me) talking over this political history, with an attention and curiosity which would have charmed you, as well as the questions he asked. He looked like a little Jesu in a picture of Annibal Carraci's listening to the Doctors. He has been reading to-day speeches in Livy, with the French translation. We gave him sentences this evening to construe. It was wonderful how well he did them. The weather grows fine, and I shall desire leave to carry him back till the 25th of next month, for he is very well; the cough which (he) has is trifling. He has no heat;—he looks delightfully.

I was with Lord Gower this morning. The Chanc(ello)r dined there to-day. I talked with Lord G. about you; he has explained your situation, and I suppose has told you that arrangements will be made here to your satisfaction. I see some comfort in all this. Nous reculerons pour mieux sauter. Your return will mortify some of the Opposition, who hope to keep you a year in Ireland out of charity, to insult you, and for their convenience. Lord Carmarthen solicits this with chaleur and impatience. I believe there is in this tant soit peu de malice, et pour se venger, for he will have your Lieutenancy in the County too. He has lost himself with me entirely. A thousand traits of him have crowded upon me, which a little partiality to him had obscured.

I was asked to dine at Derby's to-day with the new Ministers; I could not accept it. Prudence forbid(s) that, as well as want of temper. What I said or did not say would have been ill interpreted, so I refused.

Charles has taken a house in Pall Mall. Sheridan is his secretary. What becomes of Hare and Richard I know not. Richard has provoked me beyond measure by his insolence and unfeelingness about everybody and everything. The Garters are for the Duke of Portland, D. Devonshire, Duke of Richmond, and one of the Princes.

My nephew, Secretary at War, and Burke, Paymaster. This was what he hoped for, I mean Tommy. The Chancellorship of the Exchequer not determined upon it (yet?). Lord John Cav(endish) balances about it. Young Burke, Secretary of the Treasury. Another ball at Devonshire House. I long to see you, Lady Carlisle, and the children. This is the only balm in all this infernal business. But vous avez un beau role a jouer, but you must have patience for the present and, as George says, wait the event. This is a plusieurs facettes. I will now go to White's for more intelligence, and write more if I can, but it is half-hour after ten.

(226) The new Cabinet. The Rockingham Ministry consisted of Lord Rockingham, First Lord of the Treasury; Lord Thurlow, Lord Chancellor; Lord John Cavendish, Chancellor of the Exchequer; Charles James Fox, Secretary for Foreign Affairs; Lord Shelburne, Secretary for the Home and Colonial Departments; Admiral Keppel, First Lord of the Admiralty; Lord Camden, President of the Council; Duke of Grafton, Lord Privy Seal; Duke of Richmond, Master of the Ordnance; Dunning (Lord Ashburton), Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster; General Conway, Commander-in-Chief; Burke (not in the cabinet), Paymaster of the Forces.

(1782,) March 29 (30?), Saturday m(orning), 8 o'clock.—I could not write last night but a few lines, but if I could, many pages would not have been sufficient, or any force of language which I possess strong enough to express all I feel from reading your letter of the 22nd instant. Although my friendship, and tenderness for what concerns you, may not be greater than that of . . . (sic) my judgment has on this occasion been, as I perceive, more corresponding with your sentiments, which I have spoke from the dictates of that pride which I can adopt on your account, but would be presumptuous on my own. I hope, in avoiding one inconvenience, that I have not fallen into another, but if I have, the mistake can be easier corrected if necessary.

When Charles has expressed to me, as he did more than once, an anxiety about your conduct, and an uneasiness lest it should be in opposition to his own, I contented myself with saying, that it was impossible for me to know what you would do, but I was in no pain about it; that if he could, as I had heard him say that he could in very strong terms, answer for your ready judgment on all occasions, so I would answer for your honour, which two things made me sure that you would always act as became you, and that, therefore, I was in no pain upon that head; that whatever might happen disagreeable to you, or to me, we were both prepared for it. And when I have expressed a curiosity concerning the disposal of offices in general, I have been sometimes taken up shortly, impertinently, and dirtily by that jackanapes, Lord D., and he has said, "Your friend will not stay in Ireland."

I have then only answered, "My Lord, my wishes are that he may not, and it is most probable that he will not desire it; but you are quite mistaken if you suppose that in these arrangements I have any anxiety or curiosity about him." All that is an object of my love and esteem is quite independent of other people's resolutions; and as for what regards myself, I am not indifferent, I own, and I shall wish to know how I may be treated by those to whose power I am delivered up, but I have never asked one question concerning it. I shall provoke no man's anger unnecessarily; it is my only solicitude to let people see that if they oblige me by good treatment, they oblige one whom they do not despise, and who has acted 'in all circumstances like a gentleman.

I have, I find, from what I have been told by the Party, the credit of having behaved better and calmer on this occasion than many of my fellow convicts. What I have felt I have felt like a man, and that I have not attempted to deprecate by pretending that I thought myself to blame. But, my dear Lord, this has been merely exterior, for at home and alone I have been greatly depressed, both on your account and on that of others. I have felt for the honour and credit, and sufferings, of a person to whom I can only be attached by principle. For the sentiment of personal affection does not arise for objects of such inequality. I do not know how to account for it, but I have had, and still have, such a share of that, as would make one think that with the air of France and with the language of the country I had imbibed all the prejudices of their education. My thoughts about your distress, and of those dear children, which seem to belong as much to me as to you and Lady C., have really affected me at times in a manner which would have exposed me anywhere out of my own room, and to anybody else but to Dr. Ekins, who knows how naturally, and justly, I feel for you,

I have in the last place been touched, as I must be, with the great difference of my own circumstances, such as they were and might have been, and such as they would be if all this impending mischief had its full effect. The loss of three thousand pounds a year, coming after debts created by imprudence, and which might otherwise have been soon liquidated, is a blow which I confess that I was not prepared for, and if I could not feel it for myself, I must have felt it for you. Born for your use, as Zanga says, I live but to oblige you, and as soon as I become unprofitable to you, I shall feel then the most sensibly, how imprudently I have acted, and how unjustly I have been dealt with. I have, as I have told you before, not had yet the courage to look upon that ledger, where I saw once so fair an account, and where I must now make myself so many rasures. Stabant tercentum nitidi in praepibus altis. I must now see myself reduced in comparison to a narrow or at least a circumscribed plan, and without a possibility of assisting one object of my affection without hurting another.

However, gloomy as the prospect has been, it may clear up, and I could, if it was right, encourage hopes and anticipate a perspective that is not unpleasing to me.

I shall see Lord G(ower)to-day, who will tell me more particularly how things have been settled since yesterday, when I was with him. It is an idea of my own that he has contrived an arrangement for you, which, while it relieves your distress, saves, I hope, your honour. I have myself as much dreaded as you could do, your being thought of as an object of mercy, and I trust that so near a relation will dread that for you, as well as myself, and that if he secures you from injustice that he will secure your credit at the same time. I have my eyes opened now upon the intrigues of a Court more than they were in all the former part of my life, and of all people I believe that I shall be the last for the future who will be the dupe of Ministers.

The new Government, for it is more that than merely a new Administration, has given me quite a new system for my own conduct. If they have by violence &c. got into places from whence I would have excluded them, if now they should behave rightly in them, and the country becomes better and safer for their conduct, it would be folly not to assist them. But I am, above all things, desirous that both your assistance and my own, such as it is, should be more wished for by them than their assistance wished for by us.

I think that you stand clear of all which can humiliate you at present. No one's conduct in every circumstance, so far as regards your administration in Ireland, can be more universally commended. You do not desert, but retire, when those who are at the helm, if they have confidence in your understanding and honour, mistrust your inclinations towards themselves, and you leave to their friends and dependants a business from which no honour can be derived.

You are not driven from your post, because they will have recalled a man manifestly more willing to leave it, than they to profit of the resignation. They would have kept you perhaps for their own sakes, although they would do nothing for yours, and they would have made you a tool, but cannot, as they know, make you a friend but by behaving well towards [you] and towards their country.

Your private circumstances, if known to be embarrassed, are known at the same time not to embarrass you. Your chop and your pewter plate will reproach others sooner than they can reflect disgrace upon yourself. The audax paupertas, however, is not necessary, but great economy is. I myself will give you an example of it, and contribute every atom in my power to ease your mind from what will most sensibly and naturally affect it. What interest in Parliament is left me shall be yours, and if my little bark, sailing in attendance upon yours, is able to assist you, I shall be happier in that circumstance than from any which I could otherwise have derived from it.

But we may perhaps all act in concord for the present. I am told, I do not [know] how true, that no hostilities are intended towards me; nous verrons. I can never be used by any set of Ministers so ill, or with such indignity, as by those who are removed. . . .(227) said last night that the executions were now near(ly) over. I will open my mind to you. I think both his and Richard's language in all this transaction has been to the last degree indecent, and I am sure, unless these two are better advised, they will do their chief more disservice than any ill-conduct of his own. When people of low birth have by great good luck and a fortunate concurrence of events been able to obtain, from lively parts only, without any acquisitions which can be useful to the public, such situations as are due only to persons of rank, weight, and character, it is surely an easy task not to be insolent. It is all I require of them; I envy no man his good fortune, ever so undeserved, while he shows no disposition to offend others. But with all this I have not been provoked enough to express my resentment, or mean enough to deprecate that of others.

(227) An erasure.

I was last night at supper with Charles, but not one syllable passed between us. He knows that I see him in a situation where I cannot wish to see any one who has aspired to it and obtained it by the means which he has used. No one admires more or thinks more justly of his abilities than I do; no one could have loved him more, if he had deserved it; what his behaviour has been to the public, to his friends, and to his family is notorious. Facts are too stubborn, and to those I appeal, and not to the testimonies of ignorant and profligate people. However, if hereafter you can reconcile yourself to him and to his behaviour towards you, I will forgive him, and although I desire to lay myself under no obligation to him, I will remember only that he is the child of those whom I loved, without interest or any return.

George wonders to see me write so much to you; he is so well that I will carry him to school on Monday, without consulting any person. . . . He has read more Latin to me than I have to him, for my breath as been affected by the cold, or I should have read more with him; but he has hammered out his Latin with the dictionary and what assistance I can give him, and construes it wonderfully well. He will be at school till the 25th of next month, and then I propose exercise abroad, and the Modern History of Europe at home, and French; for to speak the truth he is defective in the pronunciation of that, for want of practice. The Theodore's coming here obliges me to have my nieces dine here, to see her. I'm afraid people will come to see Mie Mie dance par billets.



CHAPTER 6. 1786-1791 THE CLOSING CENTURY

Political events—At Richmond—The Duke of Queensberry's villa —Princess Amelia—The King's illness—The French Revolution —Proposed visit to Castle Howard—In Gloucestershire—Affairs in France—The Emigres—Society at Richmond—The French Revolution —Richmond Theatre—French friends—Christening of Lady Caroline Campbell's child—Selwyn's bad health—Death.

OF the series of political events which in rapid succession followed the formation of the Rockingham Ministry, the death of its head, the accession to the premiership of Lord Shelburne, the resignation of Fox, and lastly the coalition between that statesman and his old antagonist Lord North, Selwyn tells us nothing. His correspondence with Carlisle came to an end for the time when his friend was recalled from Ireland in 1782. Thus the last group of letters has rather a social and a personal than a political interest.

For a number of years Selwyn had been in a constant state of alarm lest he should be deprived of his sinecure office of Paymaster of the Board of Works. Burke's scheme of economical reform had been a constantly threatening cloud to him. The passing of this Bill, which that statesman had so persistently but unavailingly pressed on the House of Commons, had, however, been made one of the conditions on which the Rockingham Ministry came into office. It became law in 1782,(228) and under its operations Selwyn was deprived of his office. But in 1784, when Pitt was safely in power, Selwyn was appointed to the equally unarduous and lucrative post of Surveyor -General of Crown Lands. He was thus able to enjoy the last years of his life in affluence, and enjoy them he did, in spite of failing health. His letters are still gay, showing unabated interest in the world around him. He retained that remarkable sympathy for the young which had characterised his life. The children of Carlisle had grown out of childhood. Lord Morpeth was going to Oxford,(229) Lady Caroline was married. His adopted daughter, the Mie Mie of so many of the preceding letters, had become a woman, and the care and affection with which Selwyn had watched over her growth and upbringing was now transferred to her well-being and pleasure in the first society of the country. It is a charming picture—the old man without a wife or children of his own finding in the friendship of young and old all that his kindly and affectionate nature required. It heightens our ideas of the breadth and the depth of friendship when we see how it can compensate for the lack of those natural relationships which are supposed to be the solace of advancing years. Of political events in England during the period covered by this last correspondence the most important was the mental illness of the King. It began early in November, 1788; it ended in the spring of the following year. On the 23rd of April, 1789, the King, the Royal Family, and the two Houses of Parliament attended a thanksgiving service at St. Paul's. But in the interval important constitutional debates had occurred in Parliament on the question of the Regency. That the Prince of Wales should be Regent both Government and Opposition were agreed; but whilst Pitt and the Cabinet desired to place certain limits to his power, Fox and the Whigs regarded his assumption of the office as a matter of right, and held therefore that he should have the powers of the Sovereign. The constitutional question was complicated by personal feeling, so that all London society was ranged on one side or the other. Selwyn was a ministerialist, though he seems to have kept a cooler head than many of his friends. But the rapid recovery of the King rendered these discussions abortive and put an end to the political hopes and fears which were aroused by his illness. Pitt remained in office, the Whigs in opposition.

Presently, however, the French Revolution became all-important. Events in France were watched with the keenest interest by Selwyn, to whom many of those who figured in the tragic scenes in Paris were personally known. But he regarded the state of affairs in France with greater calmness than many, though he was shocked at revolutionary violence. It is, however, the picture in these letters of the society of the French emigres in and about London that gives so much interest to the last group of correspondence. Of this, however, it will be more fitting to speak when the letters which touch on it are reached.

(228) 22 Geo. III. c. 82, 1782. An Act for enabling his Majesty to discharge the debt contracted upon his Civil List Revenues, and for preventing the same from being in arrear for the future, by regulating the mode of payments and by suppressing or regulating certain offices.

(229) He metriculated at Christchurch, October 19, 1790.

(1786, Oct. 25,) Wednesday m., Richmond.—I was in London on Monday, but returned hither to dinner. I propose to go there this morning, and to lie in town. I am to dine with Williams, who is quite recovered, as I am; he is kept in London, Lord North being there, on account of his son's ill health—Mr. Frederick N(orth).(230) I hear no news, and am sorry that that which Lord Holland told me is not true, of his uncle's annuity, which I mentioned in my last.

The Princess Amelia(231) is thought to be very near her end; there is to be no Court to-day, which is unusual on this day of the Accession. But I do not know that the Princess's illness is the cause of it. I intended to have gone to the Drawing Room and have put on my scarlet, and gold embr(oidery), for the last time. Pierre I believe has contracted for it already. I cannot learn from any of your family when you propose to return; I hope in less than three weeks. I wrote to Lady C(arlisle) yesterday.

I have no thought myself of settling in London, nor am I desirous of it, while the Thames can be kept in due bounds. At present it is subdued, and all above is clear after a certain hour, and my house is the warmest and most comfortable of any; and when I came here to dinner on Saturday last, having given my servants a day's law, everything was in as much order, as if I had never left it.

The Duke [of Queensberry] dines with me when he is here, a little after four, and when we have drank our wine, we resort to his great Hall,(232) bien eclairee, bien echauffee, to drink our coffee, and hear Quintettes. The Hall is hung around with the Vandyke pictures ( as they are called), and they have a good effect. But I wish that there had been another room or gallery for them, that the Hall might have been without any other ornament but its own proportions. The rest of the pictures are hanging up in the Gilt Room, and some in a room on the left hand as you go to that apartment. The Judges hang in the semicircular passage, which makes one think, that instead of going into a nobleman's house, you are in Sergeants' Inn.

There is, and will be, a variety of opinions how these portraits should be placed, and with what correspondence. I have my own, about that and many other things, which I shall keep to myself. I am not able to encounter constant dissension. I will have no bile, and so keep my own opinions for the future about men and things, within my own breast. I am naturally irritable, and therefore will avoid irritation; I prefer longevity to it, which I may have without the other. I have had a letter from Lady Ossory, who is impatient to tell me all that has passed this summer in her neighbourhood, but she is afraid of trusting it to a letter. I can pretty well guess what kind of farce has been acted, knowing the dramatis persons. The Duke of B(edford?) was to wait on her Grace. . . .

I thought that Boothby had been with you. Mrs. Smith assures me that you have fine weather, and fine sport; so I wish the fifth-form boy [Lord Morpeth] had been with you, and his sister Charlotte, to make and mark his neckcloths.

I hear no more of Eden, but my neighbour Keene's conjectures on his refusal, which are very vague, et tant soit peu malignes. I expect more satisfaction to-day from Williams: not that I want really any information about him. I have already seen and known as much as I desire of him; he is a man of talents and application, with some insinuation, and cunning, but I think will never be a good speaker, or a great man. But what he is I do not care.

My best compliments to the Dean,(233) and Corbet. I have not heard from you, nor do I expect it. Mrs. Smith says, that sometimes you do not return till 8 in the evening. Then I suppose que vous mangez de gran appetit, et que vous dormez apres; so how, and when, am I to expect a letter? Write or not write, I am satisfied that you are well, and be you, that I am most truly and affectionately yours.

I shall keep this half sheet for the news I may hear in Town, and as this letter is not to go till to-morrow.

Thursday m., Cleveland Court.—I met no news in Town when I came, but the Princess Amelia has at present, in Dr. Warren's(234) estimation, but a few days to live. If her own wishes were completed in this respect she must have died yesterday, being on the same day in October that the late King died. It is a pity that she should not have been gratified. But she still hopes it will be in this month, that she may lose no reputation in point of prevoyance, which would be a pity.

It is not an unnatural thing, with our German family, to make a rendezvous as to death, and it has in more instances than one been kept. K(ing) G(eorge) 1st took a final leave of the Princess of Wales, afterwards Queen Caroline, the night before he went to Hanover for the last time; and the Queen afterwards prophesied that she should not outlive the year in which she happened to die.

But her R. H. is firm and resigned, and, as Dr. Warren says, declares herself ready. She flaps her sides as she sits up in her bed, as a turtle does with its fins, and says, "I am ready, I am ready."

I heard yesterday that I have lost two other friends, whom I valued as much, and for the same reason, that their faces were familiar to me for above five and forty years. I mean little Compton, Bully's friend and minister, and Sturt of Dorsetshire, both victims to the gout. I am also told that Sir G. Metham is dying. . . .

Harry Fox is to have a tolerable good fortune with his wife, which I am glad of. But that she could like his person would amaze me, if I did not know that, for particular reasons, women will like anything.

(230) Frederick North, afterward fifth Earl of Guildford (1766-1827), the famous Greek scholar. He was Lord North's third and youngest son.

(231) Princess Amelia (1783-1810) was the youngest and most beloved of the children of George III. Always delrcate, the King was constantly concerned about her, and her dying gift of a ring with a lock of her hair is said to have helped to bring on his last mental illness.

(232) Queensberry Villa, which stood by the riverside, was purchased by the Duke of Queensberry in 1780. It was built by the third Earl of Cholmondely in 1708, and subsequently became the property of the Earl of Brooke and Warwick, and then of Sir Richard Lyttleton. It was purchased by John Earl Spencer for his mother, the Countess Cowper, on whose death, in 1780, it was sold. The Duke of Queensberry bequeathed the house to Maria Fagniani (Mie Mie). In 1831 it became the property of and was rebuilt by Sir William Dundas. The old house was of red brick with a balcony running round it above the first floor windows. ("The History and Antiquities of Richmond," by E. B. Chancellor, p. 160.)

(233) Dr. Jeffrey Ekins, Dean of Carlisle (1782-1792).

(234) Richard Warren (1731-1797). The most eminent physician of the time. He was a man of great ability and judgment. In 1762 he was appointed physician to George III.

In the summer of 1788 Selwyn was laid up by an illness. "Mr. Selwyn has been confined in Town by fever and I have not seen him since the royal progress was intended," wrote Walpole to Lady Ossory in July. The visit of the royalties to Matson took place later. "Mr. Selwyn, I do not doubt, is superlatively happy. I am curious to know what relics he has gleaned from the royal visit that he can bottle up and place in his sanctum sanctorum." Such was Walpole's news in August to the same correspondent. Selwyn recovered from his illness, and left Matson to join the Carlisles. "The Selwyns I do not expect soon at Richmond for the Carlisles are going to Cheltenham; but so many loadstones draw him, that I who have no attraction seldom see him." But in the autumn Walpole could again enjoy his friend's society. For —as the following letter to Lady Carlisle shows he had returned to Richmond for a time.

(1788,) November 2, Richmond.—It must seem, dear Lady Carlisle, very shabby that on this day I do not afford a sheet of gilt paper for my letter to you, but it is to no purpose giving any other reason when I have that to give of having none by me. But truth on plain paper is better than a compliment without sincerity, with all the vignettes which could be found to adorn it, and nothing can be truer than that I rejoice at the return of this day, which gave birth to what I have on so many accounts reason to value and esteem. I wrote yesterday such a long epistle to Lady Caroline, as would have worn out anybody's patience but hers. . . .

Miss Gunning(235) is I find at the Park with Mrs. Stewart and to-morrow morning I shall go in my coach to see her. I wish it were possible for her to accept a corner in my coach, and go with me to C(astle) Howard, but I am afraid that it is not. I take for granted that you have fixed upon the 20th for our setting out, and that you intend that Lord Morpeth should come to my house the day before, which will be on Monday fortnight. He wishes to have leave to come from Eton on Saturday, and, as he has told me in a letter which I have received from him to-day, he has hinted it to his father. I promised to second his motion, and I hope it will be complied with. . . .

I shall remove with my family to town from hence in about ten days. As yet we have leaf and verdure and air, and the country is very agreeable. We have a few to associate with, and not too many. Old Mrs. Crewe is my passion, and her house free from that cohue with which others are filled; and as we have no connection with those who make a public place of this situation, I find it a much more private one than I expected.

The Duke seems for this year to have deserted us. Monsieur de Calonne engrosses all the time which he can spare from Newmarket. Frederick St. John's match is, as I am told, at an end. But then the Duchess of R(utland's) widowhood is just begun. I have lost myself the opportunity of being his rival. Her Grace was in this house last summer with me, and alone, but how could I foresee the event which has since happened? and a survivance at my age could not be thought an object. I do not hear who are to compose the next Court at the Castle. You see whom the papers name, and perhaps can say who are the most likely to go there. . . .

(235) Charlotte Margaret, daughter of Sir Robert Gunning, K.C.B., Minister at the Courts of Copenhagen, Berlin, and St. Petersburg. Miss Gunning, who was Maid of Honour to the Queen, must not be confused with the two celebrated sisters of an earlier period, or with Miss Elizabeth Gunning, a well-known and much-talked-of beauty at this time,

The correspondence from 1788 to the end of Selwyn's life is entirely with Lady Carlisle. Carlisle himself appears to have been much in London during that period, and thus in companionship with his old friend. But letter-writing had become at once a habit and a necessity. It was—and can always be where there is what he has called an epanchement de Coeur—an unceasing pleasure and solace. There is only required pen, paper, and ink, and the last bit of news, the thought of the moment can be written down and exchanged with the friend at a distance. It matters not that the letter does not reach its destination for some time to come. In the transcribing of the thought, there is the sharing of it with another, and imagination anticipates its reception.

(1788, November) 20, Thursday, Cleveland Court.(236)—George, you know, set out on Tuesday, and to-morrow I hope that you will see him, and as well as when I took leave of him. I will own fairly to you, that it was some degree 'of anxiety to me, that he had no servant to go with him so long a journey. . . . When I left him in Grosvenor Place I came here to write to you a letter, . . . but condemned it to the flames. This Lord C., with whom I have breakfasted, has reproved me for: he was sorry that I did not send it; you should not be left out of the secret, you should know as much as your neighbours, &c. You shall do so, if I can furnish you with any intelligence, and although you never tell me anything which I have not seen before, a fortnight past, in the Gazette, I shall not use the same reserve with you. I intend to write constantly to you, or to my Lord, what comes to my knowledge, true or false, and when I may cite the authors of my news I will, and what I ought to keep secret I must, but I think that there will be no occasion for that; I desire to be trusted with no secrets myself. Those who are, tell them soon enough for me. . . .

The account of the K(ing) this morning in the papers, and which, to a certain degree, is generally true, is as bad as it can be, and from such information I dare say, with regard to his health or the continuance of his disorder, the whole world can have but one and the same opinion. But I am obliged, I find, to be cautious of saying in one place what I am ordered to believe from authority in another; and when I am enquiring or saying anything concerning the present state of things, I am precisely in the situation of Sir R. de Coverley, enquiring, when he was a boy, his way to St. Ann's Lane. Nothing, it is supposed, will be said to-day in either House. We shall meet about three or four, and agree to adjourn, about which I hope and presume there will be no difference of opinion. Lord C(arlisle) thinks that there will not, and that the adjournment will be for a fortnight.

To-day, I have heard, is fixed upon to speak reason to One who has none. Dr. Warren, in some set of fine phrases, is to tell his Majesty that he is stark mad, and must have a straight waistcoat. I am glad that I am not chosen to be that Rat who is to put the bell about the Cat's neck. For if it should be pleased (sic) God to forgive our transgressions, and restore his Majesty to his senses, for he can never have them again till we grow better, I suppose, according to the opinion of Churchmen, who are perfectly acquainted with all the dispensations of Providence, and the motive of his conduct; I say, if that unexpected period arrives, I should not like to stand in the place of that man who has moved such an Address to the Crown. If the Dr. should, as it was told me, say simply that he must be under government, the K. will not be surprised at what, bon gre, mal gre, has happened to him so often. But what happens, when it comes to my knowledge, I will write it, and something or other I shall write to C(astle) H. every day. . . .

(236) This and all succeeding letters are written to Lady Carlisle

(1788, Nov. 26?) Wednesday m(orning).—I have had the infinite pleasure of receiving your letter this morning, so I shall write to you to-day, and not to Lord C., and I am the more glad to do so, because I think it but fair, as you have married him for better, for worse, that you should divide my nonsense and importunity between you. Je laisse courir ma plume, which would be abominable and indiscreet, if I was not writing to one who is used to hear me say a thousand things which he attributes to passion and perverseness, and is not for that the less my friend. Then I like, when my mind and heart are full, and I cannot open the budget before him, to evaporate upon paper, which provokes no tart reply. I wish that we were agreed upon every point of consideration in the Grand Affair(237) which occupies the whole country, so naturally, but I am afraid that we are not, yet he will not be angry with me. For when I change my mind, or my rage is abated, it will be more from cool and friendly advice from him than from anybody, and to make me, as I have told him, quite reconciled to measures. I must, besides, seeing they have not all the evil tendency which I expect, be persuaded that he will be considered as he ought to be, and that they think one person of character, as well as rank, is no disparagement to their connection, but on the contrary will give some credit to it. I shall say no more to you upon this matter.

The K. is so much in the same state he was, and there is so little appearance of any immediate change, that I am not, for the present, solicitous about it. There must be a new Government I see, and it may be a short or a lasting one, for it will, or ought to depend entirely upon his Majesty's state of mind. For my own part I am free to confess, that if I only see his hat upon the Throne, and ready to be put upon his head, when he can come and claim it, and nothing in the intermediate time done to disgrace and fetter him, as in the [year] 1782, I shall be satisfied. It is a sad time indeed, and if the Arch(bishop)p pleases, I will call it by his affect(ted?) phrase, an awful moment.

I pity the poor Queen, as you do, most excessively, and for her sake, I hope that a due respect will be paid to the K., and while he and she were grudged every luxury in the world, by those mean wretches Burke, Gilbert,(238) and Lansdown, all kind of profusion is not thought of to captivate his R(oyal) H(ighness).(239) In short, I shall be glad, if his Majesty has lost his head, to hear that the P. has found it. I have given him as yet more credit than I would own, for I will not be accused of paying my court to him while, I say, I see the K.'s hat only upon the Throne.

I know that you will say that I am heated with a zeal that in three months' time may be out of fashion. It may be so; but I rather believe myself that this misfortune will add greatly to the veneration which the public has of late had for his Majesty, and make it more necessary for his successor to be cautious with whom and how he acts. He has beau jeu, I hope he will make a right use of it. The K. will be soon removed and in a carrosse bourgeoise but whether to the Q(ueen's) House or to Kew I cannot learn for certain. I should prefer Kew, if the physicians did not by that sacrifice too much of the care which is due in their profession to the public.

I cannot get sight of the D.,(240) the P(rince) will have him to himself. I am now confined; my cough must be attended to, or it will increase, and perhaps destroy me. Mie Mie is an excellent nurse, and a most reasonable girl indeed. If her mother was so, I should hear no more of her. But there will be still du management necessaire a avoir; however, I have no fears of the issue of it.

Mie Mie, I believe, will be glad, when your L(ad)y (ship) comes to town, to go to the Chapel with Lady Caroline; you will tell me tout bonnement if you should have any objection; a tout evenement she will have a pew somewhere. She can no longer support the idea of belonging to no communion, that en fait de salut she should be ni chair ni poisson. She pleases me in that, and I shall be completely happy to see her established in the Protestant religion, provided that it is her own desire. But my profession is not that of making converts, et je ne veux me charger de fame de personne.

My dearest William,(241) pray mind your Billiards; whatever you do, do not apply to it slovenly, wish success In it, and be so good, for my sake, as to love reading; you may entertain me, if you do, with a thousand pretty stories of Hector and his wife, of Romulus and Remus, and at last we may come to talk together of M. de St. Simon. Learn to make a pen, and write a very large clean hand, and then I shall love you, if possible, more than I do at present.

Frederick,(242) what would I give to see you Regent with a Council, and Tany that Council. You say nothing to me of Lizy or Gertrude; my love to them.

George must certainly be grown, but I do not perceive it. I perceive that he is strong and well, and I hope he will have a great deal of hunting, sans etre trop temeraire. My hearty love to Lady Caroline. Mie Mie and I have not laid aside the thoughts of that which is so connected with our wishes and affections, but I see no immediate prospect of doing or hearing anything one likes as yet.

I was in hopes that when Lord C. came here next, you and the family would come with him. I cannot bear the thoughts of not seeing you till after Christmas. The winter will appear terrible (sic) long to me, who have so little pleasure here besides that of going in a morning to Grosvenor Place?(243)

To-day I have a bill sent me of 100 pounds 12 shillings 0 pence. laid out for the poor King, who ordered me to bespeak for him the best set which I could get of the glass dishes and basons for his dessert. The Regency may perhaps not want them, thinking that they have no occasion for any dessert, and that they can do without it: perhaps so, nous verrons. Old Begum, as they call her, is more absurd, I hear, than ever.

I was sorry that I could not dine yesterday at Whitehall, but I shall not dine out of my room for some time. Wine is my destruction, with the cold that I endure after it. I shall keep myself, if I can, from any complaint that will prevent my going to Parliament. The rat-catchers are going about with their traps, but they shall not have a whisker of mine.

Lord C. sets out you say on Monday next; then I shall see him, I suppose, on Wednesday; he will not hurry up as he did down, and then I am afraid I shall hardly get access to him. Charles you know is come; I have not heard anything more of him. The papers say that Pitt and the Chan(cell)or(244) went to Windsor together in one chaise, and he and Dr. Graham(245) in another. I want to know, how he has relished Sheridan's(246) beginning a negotiation without him. I have figured him, if it be true, saying to him, at his arrival, as Hecate does to the Witches in Macbeth, "Saucy and (over) bold, how did you dare to trade and traffic, &c., and I, the mistress of your charms, the close contriver of all harms, was never called to bear my part," &c. I will not (go) on to the rest of the passage,(247) for fear of offending. I hope that I shall not have offended you by anything which I have said; if I do not, you shall hear from me as often as you please. Be only persuaded that I am most truly and devotedly yours.

(237) The question of the Regency during the King's illness.

(238) Thomas Gilbert (1720-1798); known for his reform of the poor laws.

(239) The Prince of Wales. '

(240) Duke of Queensberry, who at this juncture, though a member of the King's Household, markedly allied himself with the Prince of Wales's party.

(241) Second son of Lord Carlisle, born December 25, 1781, died January 25, 1843.

(242) Third son of Lord Carlisle, Major 10th Hussars, killed at Waterloo.

(243) Lord Carlisle's town residence'

(244) Lord Thurlow.

(245) Dr. Graham (1745-1794); a noted quack doctor. Returning from America, he claimed to have learned marvellous electrical cures from Franklin, and advertised impossible discoveries; he declared he could impart the secret of living beyond the natural span of life. He became fashionable, received testimonials from many well-known persons, and occupied part of Schomberg House, Pall Mall, where Gainsborough had his studio.

(246) Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816).

(247) "Or show the glory of our art? And, which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you." (Act 3, scene 5.)

(1788, Dec. 4?) Thursday morning.—I begin my letter to you this morning, and at an early hour, before I can have been informed of anything, but I do so to shew you that I am impatient to obey your commands, and that I intend to write to you as often as I can pick up anything which I think will interest or amuse you; in which I shall not forget that George and Caroline are now of an age to take some parts in public affairs. What is of a more solemn and profound nature and secrecy, such as the deliberations of the Cabinet, that you will learn from those who will relate them to you with more precision and authenticity. Of these, if anything transpires to me, it must be through Jack Payne,(248) Lord Lothian,(249) or Trevis, and these are such confused and uncertain channels that there will be no dependence upon the veracity of them. Ils ne laissent pas pourtant de donner leur avis de temps en temps, et d'en parler apres, a ce que j'ai oui dire. So that de cote ou d'autre you are sure to know something, and perhaps what may not come to the knowledge of those who furnish materials for the daily papers.

The K. is undoubtedly in a state in which he may remain, and a deplorable one it is; deplorable and deplored, I believe, by every honest and feeling man in this country. But he has now a comfort which, as the poet says, none but madmen know. You, nor any belonging to you, I hope in God will ever know what it is; but he diverts himself now, as I hear, without his reason, precisely in the same manner as I have seen the children do, before they had any, and from this account you will have a just conception of his present state.

There was a meeting last night at Lord Sydney's,(250) and another at the Cockpitt, and what was said and done the public papers will, I doubt not, more fully relate than I can. I could not stir out or see anybody after Lord Carlisle, who dined with me, went away, except the Duke, who now sups every night with H.R.H. and his Brother(251) at Mrs. Fitzherbert's,(252) and is so good as to call here before he goes.

This cough which I have now has confined me to my room every since last Monday was sevennight, and has for the time been more severe than any which I have ever had. I could not be permitted to lose any blood till yesterday, which I am surprised at, and sorry for too, for I think that if I had been blooded a week ago the effect would have been more than I find it to be yet. I must keep at home. Blisters are recommended, but as they are sometimes attended with painful complaints, so I cannot submit to them. In other respects I am perfectly well, and in spirits.

H.R.H. has been so good as to enquire after my health of the Duke, and I have desired him to say, that I find myself better, and am told that I may go out in a few days. I think it is most likely that I shall. I wish it were as likely that poor Corbet came in for something or other that would render his situation more comfortable to him.

My Lord tells me that he has had Zenks to dine with him, which T shall undoubtedly quote as a precedent, whenever my friends now in Government shall think it right to bring forward in Parliament the Recovery of his Majesty's Reason. I must own, my dear Lady C., that I think that you had all of you too much courage in allowing of that visit, and especially at dinner, amongst all the knives and forks. I believe, if I had been there, I should have hemmed in all the children with the chairs, as a chevaux de frise, and placed myself before them with the poker in my hand.

Lord C. looks very well, and seems in great but modest glee. I hope at least to have the comfort of seeing him gratified, and when I know how, I intend to write George a letter, who will believe, I am sure, that in that instance, if in no other, I shall lay aside party prejudices, and rejoice with him.

I had laid aside my paper, and intended to have wrote no more till somebody came to me to give me new information. But I have had my apothecary at my bedside, who has been giving me an account of the examination of the physicians by the Privy Council.(253) The physicians, one and all, declared his Majesty to be, at present, unfit for public business; but when Mr. Burke, who was a leading man, and the most forward in asking questions, put this to them, whether there was any hope of his Majesty's recovering, they did not scruple to say that they had more reason to hope it than not. Dr. Warren was the most unwilling to subscribe to this opinion, but did not refuse his assent to it. It was, to be sure, the answer which Mr. Burke wished and expected. He told me that the Party, as he heard, is very angry with Mr. Fox, and will not believe the indisposition, which confines him to his bed, not to be a feigned one.

This is my apothecary's news, but if it was the barber's only, I should tell it to you. I wish to find it all true, but not a little also that Mr. F(ox) has displeased some of his friends; for if he has, and that should not be Lord Carlisle, I shall have the better opinion of him. Lord C. has held out to me, in his last letter, the language of a man of sense, of honour, and of feeling, but the misfortune is that all he says, from the sincerity of his mind and heart, will be adapted (adopted?) by those who have not one of his qualities, and yet are compelled to talk as he does, to serve their own purposes.

As to Mr. Fox, although I am at variance with him, and am afraid shall for ever be so, for reasons which I do not choose now to urge, although I am determined never to be connected with him by the least obligation, I am free to confess that I am naturally disposed to love him, and to do justice to every ray of what is commendable in him; and I will go so far as to protest, that, if he acts upon this occasion with a decent regard to the K(ing), and his just prerogatives, I will endeavour to erase out of my mind all that he has done contrary to his duty, and "would mount myself the rostrum" in his favour. To gain his pardon from the people would be now unnecessary, that is, with some of them; with the best of them, I know it would be impossible.

Lord North's speech I shall be very impatient to read, for hear, I fear, that I shall not; I see little probability of my going out for some time. I wish that I had gone from Matson to Castle H.; I might perhaps be there now, and have escaped this martyrdom. You say nothing of your coming here, and will not, I daresay, come the sooner, for my impatience to see you and the children. I must live upon that unexpected pleasure; but whom I shall collect to eat my minced pies on William's birthday, I do not as yet know.

The business of Parliament does not begin till Monday; till then, it will be nothing but hearsay, speculation, &c., &c. Some tell me that the present Ministry is determined to try the number of those who will support them, and are not afraid of being overrun with Rats; nous verrons. Lord Stafford(254) was to have come to me yesterday, when the Council was up, but it was too late.

(248) Captain John Willett Payne, known as "Jack Payne," was secretary to the Prince of Wales.

(249) The Marquis of Lothian (1737-1815) belonged to the "fast set." He commanded the first regiment of Life Guards, and was a favourite of George III., whom he deserted at the division caused by his first attack of insanity; at the King's recovery he was transferred to another regiment.

(250) T. Townsend.

(251) Frederick, Duke of York.

(252) Mrs. Fitzherbert (1756-1837). It was the occasion of much curiosity during her life and after if she were legally the wife of the Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV. The marriage took place in her own house, her brother and uncle being present; a clergyman of the Church of England performed the ceremony. But by the Marriage Act of 1772 a marriage by a member of the Royal Family under twenty-five, without the King's consent, was invalid, and by the Act of Settlement a marriage by the heir-apparent to a Roman Catholic was also invalid. In 1787 the Prince, in order to obtain money from Parliament, without doubt gave Fox authority to deny the marriage in the House of Commons, though he pretended great indignation toward Fox to Mrs. Fitzherbert. On the Prince's marriage to the Princess Caroline, Mrs. Fitzherbert ceased for a time to live with him, but acting on the advice of her confessor, returned to him, and gave a breakfast to announce it to the fashionable world, where she was a favourite. About 1803 she broke off all connection with the Prince, retiring from the Court with an annuity of 6,000 pounds. George IV. wore her portrait until his death; her good influence over him was recognised by George III. and the Royal Family, who always treated her with consideration.

(253) The examination on oath of the five physicians in attendance on the King took place by direction of Pitt on December 3rd, the day before the meeting of Parliament. Fifty-four members were present.

(254) The Lord Gower of the preceding correspondence.



Between the following and the preceding letter events had moved rapidly in France. The National Assembly had been formed to be changed into the Constituent Assembly, the tricolour had sprung into existence, and the Bastille fallen. The Declaration of the Rights of Man had been promulgated. But Selwyn's information upon the state of France was not very accurate.

(1788, Dec. 5?)—Postscript. Good God, Lady C., what have I done? Mie Mie wrote a letter yesterday to her mother; I was to put it in the same envelope with' my own. They were only to thank her for hers, which the Comte d'Elci(255) brought me from her, enquiring after Mie Mie's health. To-day I find Mie Mie's letter on my table. I shall send it by the next post, but I am afraid that I put into my envelope a sheet which was intended for Lord Carlisle. Pray ask him if he had two sheets, or what he had. I am in hopes that, par distraction, it was only a sheet of blank paper. Yet that I did not intend neither; she shall have no carte blanche from me. I am miserable about this. What makes me hope that it was not part of my rhapsody to Lord C. is, that generally my sheets to him are barbouilled on all the sides, and I know there was nothing of that. Tirez-moi de mon incertitude, si vous le pouvez,

Lord Stafford has just been with me. He says that he had a letter from Windsor this morning. The K. passed a quieter night, but I do not find out that he is less to-day what we are obliged to call him now. It is a new event, and a new language never heard before in the Court. Me de Maintenon would say, "Heavens! Do I live to call Louis 14 an object of pity?" You remember that pretended letter of hers, which was said to be dropped out of Me de Torcy's pocket at the Hague. (Do I live) to speak of my master at last as a lunatic(?) —Burke walking at large, and he in a strait waistcoat! Charles wrote a letter to the Prince the day he came. He wrote it about noon, and at one the next morning he received his R.H. answer. I wish Craufurd would pick it out of his pocket to shew me.

There may be another adjournment, as I am told. Business can be suspended a little longer. If supplies are wanted much in some places, they can be postponed in others. So the Cardinal de Rohan(256) is then chosen President of the States,(257) is that the phrase? But he is chosen President toujours of the notables,(258) or something. This I had last night from the Marquis de Hautefort.(259) What this Marquis and Grand d'Espagne has to do out of France at this time I have as yet to learn. I see that I am to have the introduction of him everywhere. He thinks me a man d'une grande existence dans ce pais. He says that I am lie avec M. Pitt; he wants me to present him to him. He fancies that the P(rince) has a convert here whenever he pleases. It is my singular fate for ever to pass for something which I am not, nor cannot be, nor desire to be —sometimes indeed for what I should be ashamed to be. But I am used to this. On se trompe, on se detrompe, et on se trompe encore. I do not find, au bout du compte, that it signifies anything. With one's friends one must be known, tot ou tard, to be exactly what we are.

(255) Angelo, Comte d'Elci, born in Florence in 1764, an, Italian philologist and archaeologist. He died in 1824.

(256) Louis-Rene-Edouard, Prince de Rohan (1734-1803). In 1760, soon after taking orders, he was nominated coadjutor to his uncle, Constantin de Rohan, Archbishop of Strasburg and Bishop of Canopus; in 1761 elected member of the Academy; in 1772 ambassador to Vienna on the question of the dismemberment of Poland; in 1777 made Grand Almoner of France; in 1778 Abbot of St. Vaast and cardinal; in 1779 succeeded his uncle as Archbishop of Strasburg, and became Abbot of Noirmoutiers and La Chaise. He led a gay, luxurious, and extravagant life rather than performed his clerical duties; he had political ambitions, but he was never able to overcome the predisposition against him with which Marie Antoinette had come to France. He was a dupe of Cagliostro, and of Mme. de Lamotte-Valois, the adventuress who, in 1782, drew him into the intrigue of the diamond necklace, for which he was sent to the Bastille, and which gave him the name of le cardinal Collier; he was acquitted in 1786, and in 1789 elected to the States-General; in 1791 he refused to take the oath to the Constitution, and went to Ettenheim in the German part of his province, where he died on the 17th of February, 1803.

(257) The States-General did not open until May 5, 1789.

(258) The Convocation of the Notables took place the 19th of December.

(259) Armand Charles Emmanuel, Comte de Hautefort, was born in 1741; he bore the title of Grand d'Espagne through his marriage in 1761 with the Comtesse de Hochenfels de Bavere Grand d'Espagne de la premiere classe.

Richmond of to-day, with its villas and streets, a town of houses occupied by professional and business men who spend their life in London, is unlike the gay and lively resort of the last days of the eighteenth century. Then the elite of the fashionable society of England gathered on the hill and by the river as people now do on the Riviera or in Cairo. "Richmond is in the first request this summer," so wrote Walpole in the very year at which we have now arrived. "Mrs. Bouverie is settled there with a large Court. The Sheridans are there too, and the Bunburys. I go once or twice a week to George Selwyn late in the evening when he comes in from walking; about as often to Mrs. Ellis here and to Lady Cecilia at Hampton." Once in Richmond men and women stayed there walking, talking, and calling on each other, sometimes driving into London, but enjoying it as a residence, not as a mere resort for an evening's pleasure. Selwyn communicated the news of Richmond to his country friends as one does in these days when at some German Spa. It may seem to us, to whom so many opportunities of enjoyment of all kinds and in all parts of the world are open, a tame kind of life to spend days and nights strolling about a London suburb, attending assemblies, playing at cards, with now and then a visit to town or a row on the river. But our ancestors were necessarily limited in their pleasures, and to them Richmond was a God-send, especially to men like Selwyn, or Queensberry, or Walpole, who delighted in social intercourse, and liked to enjoy what they called rustic life with as much comfort as the age provided. Something of this life we have learned from Walpole's and Miss Berry's letters, but no truer picture of it can be found than in the last letters of Selwyn. To the ordinary habitues of Richmond, however, there were in 1789 and 1790 added a throng of French ladies and gentlemen. Driven from their agreeable salons in Paris, they endeavoured to make the best of life among their English friends at Richmond. Exiled among a people whose language few of them could understand, they' received little of the hospitality which had been so freely extended to English visitors in Paris. It was the last and a sad scene in that remarkable intercourse between the most cultivated people of England and France which is one characteristic of the society of both nations in the eighteenth century. This entente was destroyed by the French Revolution. Selwyn, who had figured in this international society more than most men of the age, lived to tell of its last days in the letters which he wrote during the two final years of his life.

(1789, Aug. 21?) Friday night, Richmond.—I did not come hither till to-day, because I was resolved to stay to see the Duke(260) set out, which he did this morning for Newmarket, from whence he goes with his doctor to York. He said that he should not go to Castle Howard, which I looked upon as certain as that the Princes will be there. It would have been in vain to have held out to him the temptation of seeing his goddaughter, and I know that, if I had suggested it, he would have laughed at me, which would have made me angry, who think Gertrude(261) an object worth going at least sixteen miles to see.

He was in very good spirits when he left London; and in extraordinary good humour with me. But he would not have me depend, he said, upon his going to Scotland, although he has, sent as many servants in different equipages as if he intended to stay there a twelvemonth. It was quite unnecessary to prepare me against any kind of irresolution of his. After all, I hope that he will go to Castle Howard. I believe it is just five and thirty years since we were there together, and all I know is, that I did not think then that I should ever see it so well furnished as I have since, and I will maintain that Gertrude is not the least pretty meuble that is there.

I was so unsettled while I was in London that I did not even send to make enquiries about your brother or Lady Southerland. I could not have made their party if I had been sure of their being in town. Sir R. and Lady Payne are at Lambeth. They propose coming to dine here in a few days.

I dined with Crowle and the younger Mr. Fawkner yesterday at the Duke's, and asked them many questions about poor Delme's affairs, and concerning Lady Betty. I hear that Lady Julia has been much affected with this accident. He had persuaded himself that he should die, although either Dr. Warren saw no immediate danger, or thought proper not to say so. The French, as I said before, have good reason to say that il n'est permis qu'aux medecins de mentir, and Delme certainly justified the deception, if there was any; but he had at last more fortitude or resolution as I hear than was expected. I hope that Lady Betty will be reconciled to her change of life; there must have been one inevitably, and, perhaps, that not less disagreeable.

I am unhappy that I have not yet received any account of Caroline. Mr. Woodhouse has returned my visit. I did not conceive it to be proper that Mie Mie should wait upon Mrs. Bacon till an opportunity had been offered of her being presented to her, but I shall be desirous of bringing about that acquaintance. Mrs. Webb is now with us, which is a piece of furniture here, not without its use, and which I am in a habit of seeing with more satisfaction than perhaps Mie Mie, who begins to think naturally a gouvernante to have a mauvais air. I am not quite of that opinion dans les circonstances actuelles.

No more news as yet from France. I expect to have a great deal of discourse on Tuesday with St. Foy, on the subject of this Revolution, which occupies my mind very much, although I have still a great deal of information to acquire. It may be peu de chose, but, as yet, I know no more than that the House of Bourbon, with the noblesse francoise, their revenues and privileges, are in a manner annihilated by a coup de main, as it were, and after an existence of near a thousand years; and if you are now walking in the streets of Paris, ever so quietly, but suspected or marked as one who will not subscribe to this, you are immediately accroche a la Lanterne: tout cela m'est inconcevable. But we are I am sure at the beginning only of this Roman, instead of seeing the new Constitution so quietly established by the first of September, as I have been confidently assured that it will be.

Preparations were certainly making here for her Majesty the Queen of France's(262) reception, and I am assured that if the King had not gone as he did to the Hotel de Ville, the Duke of Orleans(263) would immediately have been declared Regent. There seems some sort of fatality in the scheme of forming (sic) a Regent, who, in neither of the two kingdoms, is destine a ne pas arrive a bon part.

But one word more of Delme. I am told that if Lady Betty and Lady J(ulia) live together, they will not have less than two thousand a year to maintain their establishment, including what the Court of Chancery will allow for the guardianship of the children. That will be more comfortable at least than living in the constant dread of the consequences of a heedless dissipation.

It was conjectured that Lord C(arlisle) would bring Mr. Greenville in for Morpeth, which, if it be so, I shall be very glad to hear. Crowle says that the cook is one of the best servants of the kind that can be, and would go to Lord C. if he wanted one, for sixty pounds a year, par preference to any other place with larger wages. I was desired to mention this; it may be to no purpose.

The King, as I hear, is not expected to be at Windsor till Michaelmas. I received a letter to-day in such a hand as you never beheld, from Sir Sampson Gideon, now Sir S. Eardley, a name I never heard of before, to dine with him to-morrow at his house in Kent. I was to call at his house in Arlington Street, and there to be informed of the road, and to be three hours and a half in going it. It was to meet Mr. Pitt, and to eat a turtle: quelle chere! The turtle I should have liked, but how Mr. Pitt is to be dressed I cannot tell. The temptation is great, I grant it, but I have had so much self-denial as to send my excuses. You will not believe it, perhaps, but a Minister, of any description, although served up in his great shell of power, and all his green fat about him, is to me a dish by no means relishing, and I never knew but one in my life I could pass an hour with pleasantly, which was Lord Holland. I am certain that if Lord C(arlisle) had been what he seemed to have had once an ambition for, I should not have endured him, although I might perhaps have supported his measures.

You desired me to write to you often. You see, dear Lady Carlisle, toute l'inclination que j'y porte, et que, vraisem(bla)blement, si vous souhaitez d'avoir de mes lettres, une certaine provision de telles fadaises ne vous manquera pas. But I must hear myself from Caroline, or nothing will satisfy me; as yet I have not her direction, and so bad is my memory now, that this morning I could not even be sure if Stackpoole Court was near Milford Haven, Liverpool, or Milbourn Port. I do not comprehend how I could confound these three places, or be so depaise in regard to the geography of this island.