George Selwyn: His Letters and His Life

by George Augustus Selwyn

CHAPTER 6. 1786-1791 THE CLOSING CENTURY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(239) The Prince of Wales. ||'

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

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

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

(243) Lord Carlisle's town residence'

(244) Lord Thurlow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(250) T. Townsend.

(251) Frederick, Duke of York.

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

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

(254) The Lord Gower of the preceding correspondence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(260) Of Queensberry.

(261) Third daughter of the Earl of Carlisle, married W. Sloane Stanley, Esq.

(262) Marie Antoinette.

(263) Louis Philippe Joseph, Duc d'Orleans (1747-1793). As the Duc de Chartres he pretended to the philosophical opinions of the eighteenth century, but followed the dissolute customs of the Regency. Marie Antoinette never attempted to overcome or conceal her aversion to him, which helped to divide the Court. On the death of his father in 1785 he came into the title of the Duc d'Orleans. Interpolating the King at the famous royal sitting of the 19th of November, 1787, which he attended as a member of the Assembly of Notables, he was exiled to Villers Cotterets; in four months he returned and bought the good will of the journals by money and of the populace by buying up provisions and feeding them at public tables; he was nominated President of the National Assembly but refused the post; he attempted to corrupt the French guards, and so serious were the charges brought against him that La Fayette demanded of the King that he should be sent from the country. He went accordingly to England on a fictitious mission in October of 1789. He returned in eight months to be received with acclamation by the Jacobins, who were, however, themselves irritated at the coolness by which he voted for the death of his cousin, Louis XVI. in 1792; he was present at the execution, which he beheld unmoved, driving from the scene in a carriage drawn by six horses to spend the night in revelry at Raincy, but the title Egalite, which the Commune of Paris had authorised him to assume for himself and his descendants, did not save him from the same fate. The Convention ordered the arrest of all the members of the Bourbon family, and he was guillotined the 6th of November, 1793. The Duc de Chartres visited England in 1779 and was intimate with the Prince of Wales; on his return he introduced in France the English race meetings, jockeys, and dress. It was said that the Prince of Wales, on hearing of his conduct at the execution of the King, tore into pieces his portrait which he had left him.

(1789, Aug.) 27, Thursday noon, Richmond.—I have received yours this morning, and a very fine morning it is, and made still more agreeable to me by your letter, which I have seated myself under my great tree to thank you for. I have no doubt but every one who passes by will perceive, if they turn their eyes this way, that I am occupied with something which pleases me extremely. It is a great part of my delight, and of Mie Mie's too, that we shall see you so soon. … It would have been a great satisfaction to me to have been able to have accommodated Miss Gunning, and to have had her company with us at C(astle) H(oward). . . . I have had a letter from Lady Caroline.(264) I have directed my letters to her at Stackpole Court, Milford Haven. . . .

I received at the same time with hers a letter from Lord Carlisle, who, as he says, finds it necessary to Recommend Gregg, for the remainder of this Parliament, to the borough of Morpeth. I should have been glad that the return could have been of the same person, Whoever he may be, who is designed to represent it at the ensuing and general election. To be sure it seldom happens que l'on meurt in all respects fort a propos, and this death of poor Mr. Delme is, as much as it regards Lord Carlisle, an evident proof of it.

Sir R. Payne and Lady Payne and Sir C. Bunbury intend dining here to-morrow.

Mr. Saintefoy, with Storer, dined here yesterday, but informed me of nothing new concerning France. We talked the matter over very fully, and it was very satisfactory to me, what I learned from Mr. Saintefoy upon the Revolution and the causes of it; and now I think the constitution of that country, as it has happened in others, will be quite new modelled, and that the new adopted plan, after a time, will be so much established as that there will be, probably, no return, if ever, for ages, of the old Constitution, unless produced by the chapter of accidents, to which all human things are liable.

I should have gone to town to-morrow to have taken leave of your brother, but this intended visit from Sir R. and Lady Payne will prevent me. I was not in the least aware that during the week of the York Races your Ladyship would be alone, and am therefore much vexed that Mie Mie and I are not at C(astle) H. at this moment. It was indeed what came into her head, and very properly; but the idea of running foul upon his R(oyal) H(ighness) (to use a sea term) was what prevented me from taking the measures which I should otherwise have taken. Lord C(arlisle) will leave C(astle) H., as I understand by his letter, on Saturday sevennight. I hope then to be at C(astle) H. by the time that he goes.

I am glad, for George's sake, that Lord H(olland)(265) has been with you, but you could not be surprised to find, in one of that family, a disposition to loquacity. He is, I believe, a very good boy, and his tutor is, they say, a very sensible man; but he has a most hideous name, and if you do not know how to spell it, I, for my part, can with difficulty pronounce it, the sound of it being so near something else.

(264) Lady Caroline Howard was married to John Campbell, after first Lord Cawdor, on July 28, 1789.

(265) Henry Richard Vassall Fox, third Baron Holland (1773-1840). The nephew of Charles Fox. He was imbued by his uncle with liberal opinions, which he upheld throughout his life. On the death of Fox in 1807 he became Lord Privy Seal in the Grenville Ministry. In 1830 he was Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster in the Reform Cabinet of Lord Grey. It was he and his wife, whom he married in 1797, who gave to Holland House a world-wide celebrity as a gathering place of eminent people. In Selwyn's lifetime he was only a youth.

(1789,) September 3, Thursday, Richmond.—I am vexed to find, by the letter which I have had the pleasure to receive to-day, that I am expected to be at C(astle) H(oward) on Saturday, when I do not set out till Sunday, so that, as I told Lord C. in my last, which he should receive to-day, I shall not be there till Wednesday. I am dilatory and procrastinating in my nature, but am not apt to defer what, when done, will make me so happy as I shall be at C(astle) H., and should not have been so now, if I had been more early apprised of your wish to have our journey accelerated.

I am very glad that H.R.H. was pleased with C(astle) H(oward). I am sure, that if he had not been so, he would have been difficile a contenter. But yet, it is a doubt with me, if he and I are equally delighted with the same objects. It is not that I expect others to love and admire your children as I do. There is a great deal in the composition of that; but he might if he pleased have pleasures of the same nature, but he seems to have set so little value upon resources of that kind, that I am afraid we shall never see any of H.R.H.'s progeny, and that this country must live upon what is called the quick stock for some years to come. I wish that it had happened that he had dined at Castle H. to-day, and have celebrated Caroline's birthday, which Mie Mie and I shall do here in a less sumptuous manner.

I was yesterday morning at Mrs. Bacon's door, nay further, for the servant said that she was at home, and I was carried into the parlour, but there it ended; Mrs. B. was dressing, and I could not see her, I left word with the servant that I was going into the North, where in a little time I should see Mr. Campbell,(266) and to receive her commands relative to him was the object of my visit. I must now leave this place without having made any progress in her acquaintance, or in that of her niece. All this you will, I know, put to Caroline's account, and indeed you may, for the talk of her was the pleasure which I had promised myself by both these visits.

So Lord C., I find, sets out to-day for N(aworth), and would not go to Wentworth. I cannot wonder at his preference. That you went is compliment enough, in my opinion. I shall ask George, when I see him, if he had any hand in penning the Address to His R(oyal) H(ighness), or in the answer. I shall desire also to know of him, if I am to approve of it. All I know of the times is what I am informed of by the World, which perhaps, like other worlds, is full of lies. It is equal to me; I am very little interested in it, at present; nay, if I was Argus, who by taking that title would make us believe that he saw and knew more, I should be only more satiated, and see more of what I dislike.

The French politics, as they move me less, suit me better; but of these I begin to be tired, and shall for my amusement revert to more ancient times. The history of the Bourbons is become thread-bare, and their lustre too is extinguished, as suddenly as that of a farthing candle. This Revolution is by no means unprecedented, but being transacted in our own times, and so near our own doors, strikes us the more forcibly.

To-morrow we shall go to town, and that, and the next day will be taken up in our preparatives. It was not so formerly; an expedition was fitted out at a much less expense, and in a shorter time. But a journey of above five hundred miles strikes us at present as a great undertaking. But after we shall have left Barnet, I know much of this will vanish, and I shall think of nothing but of my gate, and of all whom I shall see in a few days after. I will bring down the maps which you mention, and other things, if I knew which would be most acceptable to them, but as they will never tell me, I can but conjecture.

You do not say anything of the D(uke) of Y(ork); perhaps he was not well enough to be of all the parties. We have here, for our pride, and amusement, the third brother,(267) who drives about in his phaeton, with his companion, bespeaks plays, and seems to have taken Richmond under his immediate patronage. A report has been spread here that Mrs. F(itzherbert) has obtained leave to come and lodge at the next door. I hope that that will not be the case, for her own sake, as well as ours.

I thank William for his letter, although he tells me little more than that he is my affectionate W. Howard. He may be assured that he has from me at least an equal return. Of Gertrude he says nothing, and yet, I am confident, the P(rince) did not overlook her. My hearty love to them all, and to Lady Caroline if you write to her.

I read yesterday a little Latin poem upon a Mouse Trap, with which I was most highly delighted; wrote near a century ago, by a Mr. Holdsworth. It has been much celebrated, but never fell into my hands before yesterday. There is a great eloge upon the Cambrians, but whether Mr. Campbell would be flattered with it I am not sure. If I did not suppose it to be no more a curiosity than was the Blossom of the Chestnut Tree, with which I was so struck the beginning of the summer, I should bring it with me. There is a translation of it in English verse, that is little short of the original. Dear Lady Carlisle, adieu. I never know when to leave off when I am writing to you, nor how to express the affection and esteem with which I am ever yours.

(266) Afterwards married to Lady Caroline.

(267) William, Duke of Clarence.

(1789,) Oct. 22, Thursday, Matson.—We arrived here yesterday at four in the afternoon from Crome.(268) We left there a very fine day, which grew worse every hour, and before we got to the garden gate it was as bad and uncomfortable as possible. Mr. Bligh would have said unprofitable, and perhaps with truth, for I see no advantage in having come here, and shall be very glad to find no ill consequences from it. We found to receive us, Dr. Warner, who had been here almost a week, and another gentleman who was come to dine with me, and both of them so hoarse that they could not be heard. I was by no means elated with finding myself where I am, and it was well that, upon getting out of my coach, I had the honour of your Ladyship's letter, which was some consolation to me. But I find by it, what I have a long while dreaded, that Car's going away would be attended with great uneasiness to you. . . . It is well that you can meet it with so much reason and fortitude. I have, I know, the smallest portion of either that any man ever had.

This day has cleared up. I am as yet very well, and shall be very careful of myself, and I propose, as I told you, to set out from hence on Sunday sevennight, the first of the next month, and stay with George two days at Salt Hill. I am sure that I should not have the pleasure I have in meeting him, if there were not some intervals when I cannot see him, and I am convinced, that a life must (be) chequered to have it really a plaisant one. I am glad that he and W(illia)m were amused while they stayed in town. I expect to hear from them some account of it.

The new Bishop is at Gloucester, as I am told, with his family; c'est une faible ressource, but it is one; they are represented to me as very agreeable people. Other company we shall have none, I take for granted, and that Mie Mie, finding herself so much alone, will be glad to return to Richmond. … I am most excessively concerned for poor Lord Waldgrave.(269)

(268) Croome in Worcestershire Lord Coventry's family seat.

(269) George, fourth Earl of Waldegrave (1751-1789). He married his cousin, Lady Elizabeth Laura Waldegrave, daughter of James, second earl, in 1782.

(1789,) Nov. 6, Friday m(orning), Richmond.—Lord C. will receive a letter from me this morning which will be sufficient to assure you that George is well. He is so indeed, a tous egards. I stayed with him all Wednesday, and yesterday about noon I left him, so that in reality his course of erudition had but one day's interruption from me. Mr. Roberts is au comble de sa joie, et de sa gloire, having gained the prize for a better copy of verses upon the Deluge than that of any of his competitors. They are to be printed, so I shall see what I can at present have no idea of, and that is, how he will find matter from that event to furnish a hundred or two of blank verses. I should think that no one, but one like our friend John St. J(ohn), who uses Helicon as habitually as others do a cold bath, is equal to it. I only hope, for my part, that the argument will not be illustrated by any dkbordement of the Thames near this house; at present there is no appearance of it.

I stayed at Matson, I will not say as long as it was good, but before it became very bad, which I believe it did before we had left the place two hours. The storm was brewing in the vale, but upon the hills we bade it defiance. I am very glad to be at a place where I can be stationary for a considerable time; and it is what is very requisite for my present state of health, which requires attention and regularity of living. If these are observed, I am as(su)red that after a time I shall be well, and that my lease for ten or twenty years seems as yet a good one. As for the labour and sorrow which his Majesty K(ing) D(avid) speaks of, I know of no age that is quite exempt from them, and have no fear of their being more severe in my caducity than they were in the flower of my age, when I had not more things to please me than I have now, although they might vary in their kind. When I see you and Lord C. with your children about you, and all of you in perfect health and spirits, my sensations of pleasure are greater than in the most joyous hours of my youth. It is no solitude, this place. We have got Onslows and Jeffreyes's, Mr. Walpole, &c., &c., and if Mr. Cambridge would permit it, I could be sometimes, as I wish to be, alone.

On Monday Mie Mie and I shall go to town for one night. I am to meet Me de Bouflers(270) at Lady Lucan's. I think that if this next winter does not make a perfect Frenchman of me, I shall give it up. I hope, more, that it will afford Mie Mie also an opportunity of improving herself in a language which will be of more use to her, in all probability, than it can ever hereafter be to me. I am not disgusted with the language by the abhorrence which I have at present of the country. But these calamities, at times, happen in all climes, as well as in France. Man is a most savage animal when uncontrolled.

The last accounts brought from France fill me with more horror than any former ones. The King is to be moved only by the fear of some approaching danger to his person. The Queen is agitated by all the alarming and distressing thoughts imaginable. Her health is visibly altered; she cries continually, and is, as Polinitz says of K(ing) James's Queen, une Arethuse. Her danger has been imminent; and the K(ing) left his capital, and her in it, as he was advised to do, il eut ete fait d'elle; she would have been, probably, dragged to the Hotel de Ville, et auroit fini ses jours en Greve. She holds out her children, which are called les enfans de la Reine exclusivement, as beggars in the streets do theirs, to move compassion. Behold, how low they have reduced a Queen! But as yet she is not ripe for tragedy, so John St. John may employ his muse upon other subjects for a time. To speak the truth, all these representations of the miseries of the French nation do not seem to me (very decent) proper subjects for our evening spectacles, and it is not, in my apprehension, quite decent that Mr. Hughes, Mr. Astley, or Mr. St. John should be making a profit by Iron Masques, and Toupets stuck upon Poles.

The D(uke) of Orleans's embassy here is universally considered as one devised for his own personal safety, and he is equally respected here and abroad. The subject of his credentials and object of negotiation had no more in them than to say that his most Xtian Majesty desired to know how his brother the K(ing) of England did. The answer to which was, very well, with thanks for his obliging enquiries. The King speaks to the D(uke) of O(rleans) civilly, mais il en demeure la. His behaviour to the Duc de Luxembourg(271) and to other Frenchmen of quality was more distinguished. He talked yesterday to M. de Luxembourg for an hour and 17 minutes. You know how exact we courtiers are upon these points.

Charles Fox was at Court, but was scarcely spoke to. Il n'en fut pour cela plus rebute. He stayed in the apartments till five in the afternoon. Others of the Opposition were there. Lord North came to Court with his son-in-law, Mr. D.(272) I must wait for a future opportunity of paying my court. The Duke has finished his, I believe, for the present. I expected to have found him here or in London. He went again into Scotland last Friday, and will not be returned in a month, and this sans qu'il m'en ait averti. Il faut avouer que notre Duc, a regard de tous les petits devoirs de la vie, est fort a son aise. Me de Cambis is also come; il en fourmille, but all of them almost beggars; some few, I hear, have letters of credit. Poor Me de Boufflers, as Lady Lucan writes me word, is dans un etat pitoyable. But for the French, brisons la pour le present.

(270) Marie Charlotte Hippolyte de Saujon, Comtesse de Boufflers-Rouvel (1724-1800). One of those remarkable women who in Paris at the end of the eighteenth century united a love of intellect and literature with a pleasure in society. After being left a widow in 1764, she lived with the Prince de Conti. She was a friend of Hume and Rousseau, the rival of Mme. du Deffand. Her salon in the Temple was a meeting-place for a singular variety of persons, among whom she was known as Minerva the Wise. Her daughter-in-law, the Comtesse Emilie de Boufflers, was guillotined in 1794. She herself was imprisoned, but was released after the death of Robespierre.

(271) The Due de Luxembourg and his family escaped with difficulty to England, 300,000 livres being set on his head. He arrived in London July 19, 1789.

(272) Sylvester Douglas, Lord Glenbervie.

(1789, Nov.?) 19, Thursday night, Richmond.—I left London to come here to-day to dinner, as I have told you that I should, but I did not come away till I had seen Miss Gunning,(273) who told me that she should write to your Ladyship either to-day or to-morrow. I found her gaie, fraiche, contente, and writing a letter, and when I began by saying, "So you persist then in leaving this very pretty room," she smiled. I think that she is perfectly satisfied with the option she has made, and I really think that she has reason to be so, toutes choses bien considerees. If I had been a woman, and could not have been my own mistress, I should have preferred subjection to a husband, whom I approved of, to a Queen (sic). We talked a great deal of the menage, and I am to take my chair and have my convert there when I please; and it is (a) stipulation that not a petit pot is to be added on my account. She is to be married, I find, at the beginning of the new year, and she is to have immediately four children, three boys and one girl. I should on her account have liked it as well if she had begun sur nouveaux frais; but, it not being so, I think that the three boys and one girl is a better circumstance than if there had been more girls. He is really, as far as I can judge of him, a very worthy man, and I believe will make her a very good husband, and I have no doubt but that she will receive from his family as much regard and attention as any other woman would have had. When I left St. James's, I went in search of Me de Boufflers, and found her at Grenier's Hotel, which looks to me more like an hospital than anything else. Such rooms, such a crowd of miserable wretches, escaped from plunder and massacre, and Me de Boufflers among them with I do not know how many beggars in her suite, her belle fille (qui n'est pas belle, par parenthese), the Comtesse Emilie, a maid with the little child in her arms, a boy, her grandson, called Le Chevalier de Cinque minutes, I cannot explain to you why; a pretty fair child, just inoculated who does not as yet know so much French as I do, but understood me, and was much pleased with my caresses. It was really altogether a piteous sight. When I saw her last, she was in a handsome hotel dans le quartier du Temple—a splendid supper—Pharaon; I was placed between Monsr. Fayette and his wife. This Fayette(274) is her nephew, and has been the chief instrument of her misfortunes, and I hope, par la suite, of his own. I said tout ce qui m'est venu en tete de plus consolant.

I would, if I had had time, have gone from her to Me la Duchesse de Biron, but I went to Lady Lucan, with whom I have tried to menager some petit-petits soupers for these poor distressed people. That must be, when Lord Lucan returns from Lord Spencer's, after the X'ning.

The Duke of Orleans, they tell me, goes all over the city to borrow immense sums, offering as a security his whole revenue. He cannot get a guinea, or deserves one. He is universally despised and detested. Me Buffon is said de lui avoir fait le plus grand sacrifice, sans doute, le sacrifice de sa reputation et de son etat. Que peut-on demander davantage?

There are parties among them, I find; la Duchesse de Biron and Me de Cambis for the Etats Generaux; Me de Boufflers (and) M. de Calonne(275) pour le parti du Roi. It was right to apprise me of all this, or I should, with my civilities, have made a thousand qui pro quo's; but had I known that Lady Derby was in town, I should have gone to her, undoubtedly, par preference, as I shall do, the very next time I go to London. I am desired to dine there on Sunday with Lord Brudnell, but really the going, though but nine miles, par des chemins si bourbeux, and changing my room and bed at this time, is not to my mind. I shall keep here quietly as much as I can, till I know of your being come to town, but when will that be?

If Lord Jersey(276) cannot keep himself steady neither on his legs or his horse, you may be confined at C(astle) H(oward) the whole winter, which is better than to be at Gainthrop with me, and Hodgsson, that is certain. I did not hear but of one of his falls till yesterday, at Lord Ashburnham's.(277) My respects to them both, I beg. Mie Mie sends hers to your Ladyship, with a thousand kind compliments besides. Caroline will receive both from her and me a letter on her arrival at Stackpole Court, and I shall now make no scruple to write to her often, since I find, what I wished, that it is paying my court to Mr. C(ampbell) expressing my affection to her.

Poor William's watch I found in a sad condition. I brought it to town, as he desired, and have lodged it safely with my watch-maker, against his coming home. Miss Digby, the Dean's(278) daughter, it is supposed, will be the new Maid of Honour. Hotham has poor Lord Waldegrave's Regiment; the chariot is not yet disposed of; I will bet my money on Lord Winchelsea.

I wish that I could find out, if there were any thoughts of your brother's going Ambassador to France. I have as yet no authority for it, but the papers.

The K(ing) was at the play last night, for the first time. The acclamations, as I am told, were prodigious. Tears of joy were shed in abundance. Nous savons ce que c'est que la populace, et combien peu il en coute a leurs caprices, ou de pleurer, on de massacrer, selon l'occasion.

We are at peace at home, I thank God, four le moment. I hope that it will continue, and that no Lord Stanhope, or a Dr. Priestly, will think a change of Government would make us happier. John is now at the ackma (acme) of Theatrical reputation, and we shall see his name on every rubrick post, I suppose, of all the Booksellers between St. James's and the Temple, with that of Congreve, Otway, &c., &c.

(273) Miss Gunning was married to the Hon. Stephen Digby on Jan. 6, 1790, see ante letter of November 2, 1788, paragraph beginning "Miss Gunning I find at the Park . . .", and note (235).

(274) The Marquis de La Fayette (1757-1834). Assisted the Americans in the War of Independence. While in America he sent a challenge to Lord Carlisle, who refused to fight. He went home to aid the revolutionists in his own country. In 1789 he placed before the National Assembly a Declaration of Rights based on Jefferson's Declaration of Independence. It was he who introduced the tricolor. The Revolution assuming a character beyond constitutional control, he left Paris in 1790 for his estate until called to the head of the Army of Ardennes. After gaining the three first victories of the war, finding he could not persuade his soldiers to march to Paris to save the Constitution, he went to Liege, where he was seized by the Austrians. He was again active in the Revolution of 1830. He was greatly admired and beloved in America. In 1824, when in America by invitation of Congress, he was voted 200,000 dollars in money and a township of land.

(275) Charles Alexandre de Calonne (1734-1802); statesman, financier, and pamphleteer. On the 3rd of November, 1783, he was made Controller-General, but lost the post in 1787. "A man of incredible facility, facile action, facile elocution, facile thought. . . . in her Majesty's soirees, with the weight of a world lying on him, he is the delight of men and women." (Carlyle, "French Revolution," book lii. ch. 11.).

(276) George Bussey, fourth Earl of Jersey (1735-1805).

(277) John, second Earl of Ashburnham (1724-1812).

(278) William Digby, Dean of Clonfert (1766-1812).

(1789, Nov. 21?) Saturday night, Richmond.—I finished my short note of to-day with saying that I intended to have wrote to you a longer letter, but I sent you all which I had time to write before the post went out. It is, I think, a curious anecdote, and I know it to be a true one; I was surprised to find that the Duke had heard nothing of it, but I suppose that his Highness the D(uke) of O(rleans) does not find it a very pleasant subject to discuss, and if the allegation be true, no one in history can make a more horrid, and at the same time, a more contemptible figure, for I must give him credit for all which might have been, as well as for what was certainly the consequence of his enterprise. I hope that, for the future, both he and his friend here will (to use Cardinal Wolsey's expression) "fling away ambition. By that sin fell the angels. How can man then hope to win by it?" And of all men, the least, a Regent. If I had not been interrupted by the Duke's coming soon after I received the paper, I should have myself wrote a copy of it for Caroline, because I must not have a Welch Lady left out of the secret of affairs. . . .

The Duke(279) looks surprisingly well. He came from London on purpose to see us, and intended, I believe, to have stayed, at least to dinner, but H(is) R(oyal) H(ighness) interfered, as he often does with my pleasures; so the Duke dined at Carlton House—I do not say in such an humble, comfortable society, as with us, but what he likes better, avec des princes, qui sont Princes, sans contredit, mais rien audessus. All in good time, as Me Piozzi(280) frequently in her book, but what she means by it the Devil knows, nor do I care. I only say, that her book, with all its absurdities, has amused me more than many others have done which have a much better reputation.

I heard the D. say nothing of his affairs in Scotland, of those in France, or indeed hardly of anything else, and I, for my part, am afraid of broaching any subject whatever, because upon all there is some string that jars, and to preserve a perfect unison, I think it best to wait than to seek occasions of offering my poor sentiments. He is going again to Newmarket, to survey his works there I suppose, so that he holds out to us but an uncertain prospect of seeing him much here. Je l'attens a la remise, as Me de Sevigne says, and there, after the multiplicity of his rounds and courses, I might expect to see him, if the number of princes, foreign and domestic, were not so great. Dieu merci, je n'ai pas cette Princimanie, but can find comfort in a much inferior region.

At Bushy are Mr. Williams, Mr. Storer, and Sir G. Cooper, and in their rides they call upon me, but besides the Harridans of this neighbourhood, the Greenwich's, the Langdales, &c., I have in the Onslows and Darrels an inexhaustible fund of small talk, and, what is best of all, I have made an intimacy, which will last at least for some months, with my own fireside, to which, perhaps, in the course of the next winter I may admit that very popular man, Mr. Thomas Jones, of whom I shall like, when I know him better, to talk with your Ladyship.

I am now going to share with Mrs. Webb a new entertainment, for I am made to expect a great deal from it. It is Dr. White's Bampton Lectures, which they say contain the most agreeable account imaginable of our Religion compared with that of Mahomet. Mrs. W. reads them to go to Heaven, and I to go into companies where, when the conversation upon French Politics is at a stand, it engrosses the chief of what we have to say. I have a design upon Botany Bay and Cibber's Apology for his own life, which everybody has read, and which I should have read myself forty years ago, if I had not preferred the reading of men so much to that of books.

I expect you in London on Wednesday sevennight, and there and in Grosvenor Place will you find me, en descendant de votre carrosse. I shall then begin to renew my attentions to the Boufflers, Birons, etc., and so prepare my thoughts and language for the ensuing winter; but I shall not remove the household from hence till after Christmas. Till then, if you allow me only to pass two or three days in a week with you, I shall be, for the present, contented.

I am glad that this last mail from France brought nothing so horrible as what I was made to expect. Yet I am not at all at ease, in respect to that poor unfortunate family at the Louvre, which, I protest, I think not much more so than that of Galas.(281) Of all those whom I wish to have hanged, I will be so free as to own that I am more disposed in favour of the M. de la Fayette than of any other, because in him I do not see, what is almost universal in those who have pretensions to patriotism, an exclusive consideration of their own benefit, and meaning, at the bottom, no earthly good to any but to themselves and their own dependants. M. Fayette est entreprenant, hardi, avec un certain point d'honneur, et avec cela, plus consequent que le reste des Reformateurs, qui, apres tout, est un engeance si detestable a mon avis, qu'un pais ne peut avoir un plus grand fleeau. How often will that poor country regret the splendour of a Court, and that Lit de Justice, sur lequel le Roi et ses sujets avoient coutume de dormir si tranquillement! But when I think of ambition, it is not that of all kinds that I condemn . . .

(279) Queensberry.

(280) Mme. Piozzi, formerly Mrs. Thrale (1741-1821). The reference is to "Her Observations and Reflections made in a Journey through France, Italy, and Germany," which was brought out in 1789. She is best known as the friend of Dr. Johnson.

(281) Jean Galas (1698-1762), whose unhappy story was the subject of tragedies prought out in Paris in 1790 and 1791.

(1790) July (Aug?) 7, Saturday, Isleworth.—I hope that this letter will reach you before you set out for Cumberland, because I am impatient to tell you that the Perfection of Nature is at this instant the Perfection of Health. I came over here in my boat to write my letter from a place where I am sure that your thoughts carry you very often, and to make my letter from that local circumstance more welcome to you. I brought over with me two, almost the last, roses now in bloom, which I could find in the Duke's garden; one of them would have been for you if you had been here, because I know the complexion in roses which you prefer; so I have desired Lady Caroline to smell to it sympathiquement. I found upon my table at Richm(on)d, when I came down, as I expected, Lady Sutherland's letter envelop(p)ee a la francoise, and in my next I will transcribe so many extracts, as it shall be the same as if I sent you the letter; but I am not sure that sending the original itself would not be illicit without a particular permission from her Excellency. I am much obliged to her for it, and shall do my best to obtain more, although France is a country now which, if I could, I would obliterate from my mind. Had this Revolution happened two thousand years ago, I might have been amused with an account of it, wrote by some good historian, or if it had happened but a few years hence, I should not [have] felt about it as I do; as it is, the event is too near for me not to feel as I do. I do not like to be obliged to renounce my esteem for any individual, much less to think ill of such numbers. The oppression suffered under the former Government, or [and] the desire of giving to mankind the rights which by nature they seem intituled to, are with me no excuse, when a people sets out, in reforming, with acting in direct opposition to all the principles which before they thought respectable, and really were so, and, to become a free people, commence by being freebooters. However, as this savours too much of party zeal, I will have done with it; yet it is not relative to this country, which I hope will be free from these calamities and abominations, and so I need not fear expatiating sometimes upon the subject.

Me de Boufflers, la Reine des Aristocrates refugies en Angleterre, was to see us yesterday in the evening, and to invite Mie Mie and me to come sometimes to hear her daughter-in-law play upon the harp. I did not expect melody in their heaviness, but I shall certainly go, as the recitative part will be in French, and that you know is always some amusement to me.

The Duke, I hear, will be in London to-night, and so may come to Richmond to dine with us to-morrow. If he does, I shall be a little embarrassed between my two Dukes, for the Duke of Newcastle(282) expects me to dine and to lie at his house at Wimbledon. If I can reconcile two such jarring attachments, I will; if not, I believe I shall prefer my neighbour, as loving him very near as much as myself. Well, Mr. C(ampbell) and Lady C(aroline) are going out in their phaeton, so I shall now have done. . . .

(282) Thomas, third Duke of Newcastle (1752-1795)

(1790, Aug.? or Oct.?) Saturday, Isleworth.—. . . Mr. C(ampbell) called upon me yesterday. He came to see my two pictures, which I had cleaned by Comyns, and are very pretty, as Mr. C. allows, but he will not assent to Comyns's opinion that they are Cuyp's, although much in his style. Comyns values them at what they cost me, which was 50 gs. or thereabouts. Mie Mie has them in her dressing-room, and is vastly pleased with them. We all dine to-day at the Castle.(283) Me la Comtesse Balbi(284) chooses to give a dinner there to all her friends, the Me'sdames Boufflers, the Comte de Boisgelin,(285) M. d'Haveri(?), &c. The Duke, Mie Mie, and I are invited, and the Duke intends to bring Mr. Grieve with him, and as a Member de la Chambre Basse he will pass muster, but he is most wretched at the lingo. They will assemble in the evening at the Duke's, where I suppose that there will be tweedle dum, and tweedle dee, for the whole evening, till supper. George will not, after this, call our house a hermitage; if it is, it is a reform of a merry Order, in which neither St. Francis or St. Bruno have any share.

Lady Graham(286) has got her Duche very soon. A report was spread here yesterday that Prince Augustus(287) was dead, but it is contradicted in the papers of to-day. Mr. C(ampbell) is gone to town, but he and Mr. Grevil return to dinner.

I hope that Frederick liked my letter, and that in my letter to Gertrude there was some bad French for her to correct, and then I Shall hear from her again. I hope that William will be indulged in staying here a day or two with his sister, and that George will not fly away on his Pegasus to Oxford the instant he comes, although I know that the Muses are impatient to see him, and will set their caps at him the moment he comes. I hope that you approve of my choice of what the colour of his gown is to be. I think a light blue celeste, which Lord Stafford had, would be detestable, and scarlet is too glaring. No; it must be a good deep green. I want to know the name of his tutor. I hope that he will have a very good collection of books in his own room, a sufficient allowance, and a hamper of claret, en cas de besom. I think, if there are to be no hounds or horses, we may compound for all the rest. But these I believe the Dean will never suffer to be matriculated. . . .

I have some thought of going to pass a day in town when Warner comes, and if I do I will certainly go there by Fulham, to see the Dean. I have not heard one syllable about him a great while. You know, perhaps that Pyrome(?) is discharged, and relegue a ses terres. He (has) a mechante langue, and to keep himself in place he should cut it out.

(283) The Castle Inn, Hill Street, Richmond. It was for many years a fashionable resort as well as a noted posting house. Mrs. Forty, the wife of a subsequent proprietor, was the subject of Sheridan's toast at the Prince Regent's table—"Fair, Fat, and Forty."

(284) Mme la Comtesse de Balbi (1753-1832), celebrated for her connection with the Comte de Provence, afterward Louis XVIII. At the epoch of the Revolution she retired to Coblentz with Monsieur. Leaving him she came to England, where she remained until the First Consul permitted the emigres to return to their homes, but she was soon discovered to be engaged in royalist intrigues and exiled; her endeavours to obtain the royal favour at the Restoration were vain.

(285) Louis de Boisgelin de Kerdu, Chevalier of Malta (1750-1816), historian; brother of the Cardinal.

(286) Caroline, daughter of the fourth Duke of Manchester, married, in July, 1790, the Marquess of Graham, who succeeded his father as third Duke of Montrose in September of that year.

(287) Augustus, Duke of Sussex, died 1843.

(1790,) Aug. 12, Thursday m(orning), 8 o'clock, Richmond.—I sit down now to write you with some satisfaction, because that I shall have to tell you, towards the end of my letter, that Caroline is perfectly well, but you must have patience; I have not seen her to-day; I shall finish my letter at Isleworth. At present, I only know that about 12 o'clock last night she eat plumb cake and drank wine and water in my parlour—she, Mr. Campbell, and Mie Mie, and who besides I have not yet asked. I was in bed when she came; it was an heure perdue, but not lost upon me, for I was not asleep, nor could sleep till I heard that those two girls were come home safe.

From what, in the name of God? you will say. From seeing that etourdi Lord Barrymore(288) play the fool in three or four different characters upon our Richmond Theatre. Well, but what did that signify? Nothing to me; let him expose himself on as many stages as he pleases, and wherever the phaeton can transport him, but he comes here, and assembles as many people ten miles around as can squeeze into the Booth. I had every fear that Mrs. Webb's nerves or mine could suggest: heat in the first place; I considered Car's situation; an alarm, what difficulty there might be of egress; but we provided, Mr. Campbell and I, against everything. Mrs. Vanheck, who has a most beautiful place at Roehampton, came and carried Mie Mie into her box. Places were separated in the pit; at first Lady C(aroline) was to have been there with Mrs. Woodhouse, etc.; but, I say, the egress was the point I wished for, and looked to. I got two places, by much interest and eloquence, in the hind row of the front box. A door opened into the lobby, and from the lobby you go directly into the street. So I shall hear, I suppose, to-day that all went au mieux.

I did not expect them to be clear of the House till near 12, so went into my room, and soon after to bed, but I slept well. For I had heard of them. They were all, I tell you, before 12 in my parlour, eating cake and chattering, and talking the whole farce over, comme a la grille du convent. I can at present tell you no more, but I was impatient to begin my letter a cette heure; j'ai en quelque facon satisfait a mon envie. I shall embark at eleven for Isleworth, and hope with a fair wind to land at Campbell-ford stairs in ten minutes after. From thence I will finish my letter. I shall there have the whole en detail. The Prince and the Duke of Q. were expected, but I heard from my servants nothing of them.

Il fait un lien beau tems; c'est quelque chose. It has come late, and to make us only a short visit I suppose, and to tell us that we shall have a better autumn than we have had a summer; no courtier cajoles one like a fine day. Yesterday was a fine day also, and I completed, as they call it, my seventy-first year. I dined at your sister's.(289) Mr. Campbell and Car and Mie Mie were to have been of the party; they had an apology to make, I had none. 71 is not an age to Barrymoriser. There were only Mr. Woodcock and his wife. I met on my return their Majesties, que j'ai salues; and so ended my day.

(288) Richard Barry, seventh Earl of Barrymore (1769-1793). Lord Barrymore was brilliant, eccentric, and dissipated, and in his short life he managed to spend 300,000 pounds and encumber his estates. He gambled, owned racehorses and rode them, played cricket, and hunted. He had a strong taste for the stage. At Wargrave-on-Thames he had a private theatre adjoining his house, and liked to make up companies with a mixture of amateurs and professionals. He is the prototype of many modern and aristocratic spendthrifts. He was killed by an accident when he seemed about to be giving up his wild career for a. more useful life. He accepted a commission in the Berkshire Militia and threw himself into his work with characteristic zest. When escorting some French prisoners near Dover, the gun which was in his carriage accidentally exploded and wounded him fatally. (See "The Last Earls of Barrymore," by J. R. Robinson, London, 1894.)

(289) Lady Louisa Leveson-Gower, married to Sir Archibald Macdonald in 1777. She died 1827.

(1790, Aug. 12,) one o'clock, Richmond.—I have been at Isleworth. I found Car very well, and at her painting, with the Italico Anglico artiste of Mr. Campbell's, and Mr. Lewis. Mr. C(ampbell) was gone to London. They were asked to dine to-day at Fulham Field, that is, I think, the name of the Attorney Gen(era)l's(290) place. I am not sure if she told me that they intended to go. Lord Barrymore danced the pas Russe with Delpini, and then performed Scaramouche in the petite piece. I asked how he danced; Mr. Lewis said very ill. How did he perform the other part? execrably bad. "Do you think," I said, "that he would have known how to snuff the candles?" "I rather think not," says Mr. Lewis. Mie Mie is more satisfied with his talents; she thought him an excellent Escaramouche; ce seroit quelque chose au moins. But I am more disposed to think that Mr. Lewis is in the right, and I hope, for the young nobleman's own sake, that toutes les fois qu'il s'avise de se donner en spectacle, et faire de pareilles folies, il aura manque a sa vocation. Sa mere ne jouoit pas un beau role, mais elle y a mieux reussi.

But enough at present of this. No harm of any sort has come from it, but Mie Mie tells me that Mr. Campbell's anxiety the whole time was excessive. After all, she was not in the places which I had provided for the greater security, but went into those which were originally intended for her. The Prince was there, but not the Duke of York, or my friend the Duke of Q.

Now a d'autres choses. I have in my last fright forgot one where there were better grounds for it. The day I wrote to you last, as you know, I was at Isleworth. Coming from thence, and when I landed, the first thing I heard was that people with guns were in pursuit of a mad dog, that he had run into the Duke's garden. Mie Mie came the first naturally into my thoughts; she is there sometimes by herself reading. My impatience to get home, and uneasiness till I found that she was safe and in her room, n'est pas a concevoir. The dog bit several other dogs, a blue-coat boy, and two children, before he was destroyed. John St. John, who dined with me, had met him in a narrow lane, near Mrs. Boverie's, him and his pursuers. John had for his defence a stick, with a heavy handle. He struck him with this, and for the moment got clear of him; il l'a culbute. It is really dreadful; for ten days to come we shall be in a terror, not knowing what dogs may have been bitten. Some now may have le cerveau qui commence a se troubler.

John(291) has a legacy from Lord Guilford(292) of 200 pounds a year, the General(293) one of a thousand pounds; Mr. Keene has a hundred. He has left in legacies about 16,000 pounds, as Mr. Williams tells me, but not much ready money besides. His estate was about 2 or 3,000 per annum. It is to be a Peer, I hear, who shall succeed him. I will write no more to-day. I will send you the extract from Lady Sutherland's(294) letter in my next. The President has told me this morning that Mr. Neckar(295) a faille d'etre pendu. Il voulut tirer son epingle du jeu; il fut sur le point de partir; on ne pousse pas la Liberte a ce point en France; il n'avait pas demande permission a la Populace; ainsi, sans autre forme de proces, on voulut le conduire du Controle a la Lanterne. I am glad to hear that the brats are well. You set off, I understand, on Tuesday; so this will find you in your Chateau antique et romanesque. J'en respecte meme les murailles; tout y a un air si respectable.

I will write to my Lord in a few days, and when I hope to have seen the Dean, but from what his neighbour Mr. Woodcock told me yesterday, I shall have nothing very comfortable to tell him touchant la sante de son bon precepteur, ni sur la mienne; elle exige un management et une regime que je n'ai pas encore observee avec la rigueur necessaire.

Now I expect a troupe of French people whom I met in a boat, as I came this morning from Isleworth—le M. de Choiseul, Me de Choiseul, &c. I have engaged myself to go with them to Mr. Ellis's, because it belonged to Mr. Pope. I said I must go home to finish mes depeches, but I expect them every minute. Je sers d'entreprete entre le M. de Choiseul et Me sa femme.

My love to George. I hope that le Chateau de ses ancetres a pour lui des charmes. I read a great deal of the Howards in Pennant's(296) book. It is the only part that gives me pleasure; such an absurd superficial pretender to learning I never met with, and after all of what learning! Then he tries to copy Mr. Walpole's style in his Book of Antient Authors; le tout est pitoyable. Adieu, dear Lady Carlisle; si vous pouvez supporter tout ce bavardage, cest parce que vous aimez votre fille, qui en est en partie la cause.

(290) Sir Archibald Macdonald, afterward Chief Baron of the Exchequer.

(291) John St. John.

(292) Francis North, Earl of Guildford (1704-1790), father of the statesman.

(293) Henry St. John.

(294) Wife of William, seventeenth and last Earl of Sutherland.

(295) Jacques Necker (1732-1804), the famous financier. He married Mdlle. Curchod, Gibbon's one attachment. Their only child became the celebrated Mme. de Stael. In 1790 he finally was forced to retire from office as Director-General of Finance.

(296) Thomas Pennant (1726-1798), the naturalist and traveller, author of several "Tours" in the British Isles which have become classics. His energy in travelling and scientific spirit and capacity of observation made him too modern for Selwyn and his friends: Walpole said that, Penaant picked up his knowledge as he rode.

(1790,) Aug. 22, Sunday, Richmond.—.. . I have nothing (more) to tell you of Caroline, than that we saw her yesterday in the afternoon, en passant, that is, in her boat, which was full of the company she had had at dinner, and which, as Mie Mie told me, were the Greggs, but ayant la vue courte, I could not distinguish, myself, who they were.

My garden was as full as it could hold of foreigners and their children—Warenzow's boy and girl, and the Marquis de Cinque minutes, who, of all the infants I ever saw, is the most completely spoiled for the present. His roars and screams, if he has not everything which he wants, and in an instant, are enough to split your head. His menace is, "Maman, je veux etre bien mechant ce soir, je vous le promets."

The Duke was in the best humour the whole day I ever saw him, who you know has been at times as gate as the other. He said that my dinner was perfect, and so it was dans son genre. The ladies were much pleased with their reception, and the Duke took such a fancy to them, and to the place, that he believes that he shall be more here than anywhere, and he went to town intending to send down all preparatives for residence. Me de Bouflers told me que je m etois menage une tres jolie retraite, and indeed at this time it is particularly comfortable to me, and the circumstance of Caroline having a house so near is not by any means the least of its agremens. . . .

Monday.—Yesterday was a fine day, but neither news or event; on the Thames une bourgeoisie assez nombreuse, and in the Gardens. I saw our friends at Isleworth in the morning, before they went out in their phaeton. They were going to Lord Guilford's, and to-day dine at Mr. Ellis's. I believe that Madame de Roncherolles dines at Mr. Walpole's, for she has sent to me to carry her. I do not dine there myself, but shall go to fix with Mr. Walpole a day for Caroline and Mr. C(ampbell) to see Strawberry Hall. Her journey to Lady Egremont's is put off for a week. To-morrow I go to Fulham, and from thence to London, from whence I return on Wednesday. Mie Mie and I dine at Isleworth when I return. Mr. Grevil is to be with them this week.

Bunbury is returned from Portsmouth; his news to me were, that the emigration from France thither increases every day, and that in the provinces, as these people say, who are come last from France, the revolt increases, and a desire for the old Constitution. In Britany and Normandy the party is very formidable. M. de Pontcarre, President of the Parlement de Rouen, is in London; so there is another President for me, if I choose it. The young French people and their wives dined yesterday, as they usually do, at the Castle. . . .

(1790 Aug. 23?) Monday night, 11 o'clock, Richmond.—I wrote to you this morning, reserving to myself the liberty of lengthening my letter, after I shall have seen Caroline for the last time before her return from Cliveden, where it was her intention to go to-morrow for a week or ten days, c'est selon; but I must begin this appendix tonight, late as it is. I am still waiting till these French Ladies come with Mie Mie from the play. It is Mr. Parson's benefit, and was expected to be very full. The evening is cold, that is something, but I must see Mie Mie before she goes to bed.

We were to-day at dinner ten, besides the Duke; Madame de Boufflers, the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire, M. de Calonne, The Fish, Thomas,(297) Mie Mie and myself. I had liked (sic) to have forgot Lady E. Forster, que l'on n'oublie pas souvent, dans cette partie au moins; but now on sonne deja; le reste donc sera pour demain, et pour quand j'aurai ete l'autre cote de la Riviere; so, for the present, I wish you a good night, my dear Lady Carlisle.

Tuesday morning, Isleworth.—Now, to begin my letter properly, and in course, it would be to say "Good morrow" to you, or, as they say in Ireland, "Good morrow morning" to you, my dear Madam.

I hastened my coming here lest they should be gone, but they do not set out till after dinner. Caroline is well enough to take a much longer journey than from hence to Cliveden. I came with a commission from the Duke to invite them to dinner, to meet the Princess Chatterriski, whom I suppose you know; I find that she is no favourite of Lady C(aroline), nor is her friend D'Oraison of mine, but he comes to. The Duke left me to go and invite the Boufflers, but whether they will come or not I do not know.

Calonne would have entertained yesterday. You never in your life saw any man so inveterate as he was against M. de la Fayette, and, to say the truth, he had reason, if all was true which he imputed'to him, as I believe it was. But what diverted me the most was, that Fayette had seriously proposed to make him, Calonne, King of Madagascar. Surely there never was, since the Earl of Warwick's time, such a king-maker. I would to God that he had accepted of the diadem, but then perhaps he would not have dined with us yesterday. Il en contait a Madame la Duchesse, and sat at dinner between her and Lady E. Forster, avec qui je faisois la conversation; the Duke over against us on the other side of the table, comme la Statue dans le Festin de Pierre, never changing a muscle of his face. The Marquis was above, and there Me la Duchesse lui donna a diner. I was determined upon an audience, and found l'heure du berger. He received me avec un sourire le plus gracieux du monde, and I was obliged to present my address of compliments. But I think that the Nurse is a bad physiognomiste if she did not see that what I said, and what I thought, were not d'accord. He is like the Duke if he is like anything, but a more uninteresting countenance I never saw— fair, white, fate, sans charactere. In short, on a beau faire, on a beau dire. If un enfant ne vous tient d'une maniere ou d'autre, I cannot admire it as I am expected to do; and what a difference that makes will be seen two months hence. Toutes mes affections parlent due meme principe. The Duchess offended me much by coming with a couronne civique, which is a chaplet of oak leaves. In England they are a symbol of loyalty. Il n'en (est) pas de meme en France. I asked if she wore it before the Queen; I was told yes. Je ne comprens rien a cela.

The whole behaviour of the Queen, in her present wretched, humiliated state, is touchante et interessante au dernier point. Elle ne rit, que quand elle ne songe pas a ses malheurs. At other times she is, as Polinitz says of K(ing) James's Queen, when he saw her after the Revolution, une Arethuse. M. le M(arquis) de la Fayette comes to the Tuilleries, and although he be really no more or less than the jailer, he is received with graciousness.

But now, four les Evangiles du jour. I had a letter from Warner this morning before I left Richmond, dated last Thursday night. Your brother's courier did not, however, leave Paris till the morning of Friday. Warner's words are these:—"The courier goes to carry the news of the Decree, of fitting out 25 ships of the line, and adhering to the Family Compact in the defensive Articles, which looks so like a war that it frightens us with the apprehension of being sent packing home to you, or rather without packing."

If the consequence of a war is your brother's return to this country, I do not think it a misfortune to him, and I wish, no other may happen to us, than the expense at which we must be to support one campaign against these United Powers. Still I am of opinion that peace will follow immediately these preparations. But Calonne alarmed me yesterday, when he said, that he thought that the National Assembly would draw them into a war with us. He had not then received his dispatches. I shall hear a great deal of it to-day, true or false, from D'Oraison.

Mrs. Bartho is already gone to Lady Lewisham. Caroline stayed to dine in town, and they returned here about six. I think that Mr. C(ampbell) seems to-day not determined to stay so long at Cliveden as he thought to do. I shall wish them to return, be it only that I may have the more to say to you, and the better security for my letters being well accepted.

I hope that George was amused at the York races. I have seen this morning in Lizy's letter that he was there. Vixen is sitting for his picture, and this is all the news of Isleworth. I may have more to tell Lord C(arlisle) when I write to him, which I shall do by the next post. My love to them all, you know whom I mean.

What does Lord C. mean by calling himself alone? Peut-on etre mieux qu'au sein de sa famille? That was part of an ariette which M. de la Fayette's music played the day the K(ing) went to the Hotel de Ville, as I have been informed by a pamphlet, wrote to abuse Mr. Neckar, and which is incomparably well wrote. I will get it for George if he desires it, and will promise to read it. I am afraid that he is too much of (a) Democrate, but as a lover of justice, and of mankind, and of order and good government, he would not be so long, s'il vouloit se rendre a mes raisons; mais il croit que je n'en ai pas, et que je me retranche a dire des invectives, sans avoir des argumens pour soutenir mon systeme; en cela il se trompe. God bless him; je l'aime de tout mon coeur, et je l'estime aussi, qui est encore davantage.

(297) Thomas Townshend.

(1790,) Sept. 4, Saturday m(orning), Richmond.—. . . My larder is rich from Mr. C(ampbell's) chasse. I had some game the day after the first hostilities against the partridges commenced. . . . Our foreign connections here increase; le Comte de Suffren and his family are going to establish themselves here in a house above the Bridge, and on the banks of the River. He came to the Duke's(298) yesterday, where we dined, and stayed with us the whole evening. He is an aristocrate, and a great sufferer by the troubles in France, but he is a very sober, moderate man, and intelligent. The Duke liked his company very much.

I am loaded now with pamphlets upon this great and extraordinary event; some entertain me, some not. I like much what I have just been reading, which is the opinion of the Abbe Maury,(299) delivered in the National Assembly, upon the executif and legislatif power, in regard to declaring war, and concluding treaties of commerce and alliance. There is a great deal of good sense in it, and comes the nearest to my own opinion of what has passed. I suppose that Lord C. has read it. I hope that George will read it too. If I was sure that the speech was not at Castle H. I would transcribe some passages out of it, a sa consideration.

I desire very much to be of his mind about everything, but, if he is a Republican, I have done with him. If he will in his Republican system throw in a little royal authority as ballast, we shall soon come to an agreement. I wish him to come neuf to all those great and important questions, and examine them sans l'esprit de systeme, without prejudice and strong inclination to be of either side, but to investigate the truth, and adopt it. Il est fait pour raisonner; il commence etre d'un age ou le jugement acquerera tous les jours de la maturite. My love to him, I beg.

I think Lady Derby mends in appearance; the Duke and I go often to her. I would cross the water and make the Duchess a visit, but that I think it right to forbear going in a carriage as long as I can; and then, perhaps, I may go with safety to London, from time to time to see Caroline, when she removes thither. . . .

(298) Queensberry.

(299) Jean Siffren Maury, abbe, the eloquent supporter of the monarchical cause.

(1790,) September 7, Tuesday, 8 o'clock, Richmond.—. . . . I was surprised in the evening with a visit from Mr. Campbell. We were au dessert, that is, the party which dined here after they returned from Egham. . . . His visit put out of my head, in a minute, all the pretty French phrases which I was brewing. . . . Mr. C. stayed to converse with the Welch heiress, to talk with Me de Choiseul upon Greece and the Archipele, and of his uncle's voyage pittoresque, and he spoke a great while in Italian with Me la Comtesse de Suffren. I long to hear, as I shall this morning, his opinion of the party. I asked them (a) few questions about their day's sport; it was a novelty with which I know that they would be pleased.

So Me de Choiseul has obtained leave of her husband, I believe without much difficulty, to stay here one day more. I shall, for my part, make no efforts to detain them. Me de R. has explained to me sufficiently en quoi consiste la mauvaise conduite du Marquis. But young people ne regardent que le surface. The Duke did not return; I believe that he dined and lay at Oatlands. His horse had a violent fall; but I heard of no other event. I suppose he may have lost by that accident.

I know as yet no more of Mr. C(ampbell's) motions than that he and Lady C. go to town this morning, but return to dinner. We shall dine with them, when these Races are over; they finish to-morrow.

I sat yesterday morning a great while with the Fish's friend, Me de Roncherolles. Entre nous, I like her much more than any of the whole set. She has neither du brillant dans son esprit, ni une infinite de grace dans ses manieres, je l'avoue, mais, elle est sans pretensions, et avec beaucoup de bon sens, meme de la solidite, et elle est instruite suffisamment. Mr. Walpole ne lui donne pas la preference. He must have something de l'esprit de l'Academie, &c., something of a charactere marque. Je ne cherche rien de tout cela; je suis content du naturel, et de trouver une personne raisonnable, honnete, et de bonne conversation. She is going to-day for a week or more to Lady Spencer's at St. Alban's. I am sure that it is not there, que je trouverois cette simplicite qui me plait. But this, till it is time to embark for Isleworth, when I shall have something more interesting to talk of than the perfections of Me de Roncherolles. . . .

(1790, Nov.?) Thursday, Richmond.—You are so good, when you do not see me or hear of me, to be desirous of having some information of my state of health and existence. Now I must let you know that I have at this moment every distress, negative and positive, that I can have, et les voici. My negative one is, being for the moment in an impossibility of going to town to see you, Caroline, and the bambino, and that is enough, for it would be a great pleasure to me, as you must imagine. Then, I am, in a manner, here with one single servant. Pierre has left this house to go to his own, where he is very well looked after by his wife, and is (as) comfortably lodged as it is possible to be; but he is, as Mr. Dundas tells me, in a very perilous situation, and yet, by excessive care, may recover.

He has been my doctor lately instead of his own, and given me, daily, powders which he said were the bark, and which I was to take. No such thing; they were powders of a different sort, which, it is fortunate, have done me no mischief. They were in the drawer, and so brought to me as bark. Dundas thought I neglected myself, and rejected the prescription. I maintained that I had missed taking the bark but one day. He knew the contrary from his shop book, and to-day only the mystery was cleared up.

My next grievance is, that je peris de froid; j'en mis penetre au pied de la lettre, and the reason is plain, but why I did not discover it myself is hardly to be conceived. I have no clothes; my stockings are of a fine thin thread, half of them full of holes; I have no flannel waistcoat, which everybody else wears; in short, I have been shivering in the warmest room sans scavoir pourquoi. But yesterday there was a committee at the Duke's upon my drapery, and to-day a tailor is sent for. I am to be flannelled and cottoned, and kept alive if possible; but if that cannot be done, I must be embalmed, with my face, mummy like, only bare, to converse through my cerements. Then, my other footman, the Bruiser, is that, and all things bad besides; he is not an hour in the day at home, and is gaming at alehouses till 12 at night; so the moment that I can get any servant that is tolerable to supply his place I shall send him out of the house, sans autre forme de proces; but, till he is gone, my whole family lives in terror of him.

It is amazing to what a degree I am become helpless; nothing can account for it but extreme dotage, or extreme infancy. I wish Barthow had left Lady Caroline, and was here only to dress me in warmer clothes, but she goes from here, I hear, to Lady Ailesford, so that I must not think of lying in and being nursed for some time. . . .

(1790,) Dec. 8, Wednesday, Richmond.—You have bean at C(astle) H(oward) ever since Monday sevennight, and not one single word have you received from your humble slave and beadsman. . . . Here is now come a snip-snap letter of reproach from Lady Ossory for not having answered her letter of compliments upon Lady Caroline's delivery. I received yours on Sunday. That was no post day, so I resolved to answer it in Berkley Square on Monday. But I did not set out till three o'clock, lost all the fine part of the morning, and did not get to town till five in the afternoon—dragged for two hours, two whole hours, through mud, and cold, and mist, till I was perishing; so that when I had eat some dinner I was fit for nothing but to go to bed, and therefore did not go to Berkley Square till yesterday at noon. . . . I saw Caroline and her bambino. . . . The christening is to be, as I understand, to-morrow. I hope in God that I shall be well enough to assist, and name the child, and eat cake, and go through all the functions of a good gossip. If I am obliged to give up that which seems to have been my vocation, c'est fait de moi; I must declare myself good for nothing. I carried yesterday the regalia. The cup has been new boiled, and looks quite royal.

Sir L. Pepys was with me in the morning, and thought my pulse very quiet, which could only have been from the fatigue of the day before—juste Dieu! fatigue, of going 8 or 9 miles, my legs on the foreseat, and reposing my head on Jones's shoulder. The Duke would make her go, and everybody. He thinks that I am now the most helpless creature in the world, when, from infirmity, I want ten times more aid than I ever did. Sir Lucas pronounced no immediate end of myself, but that I should continue to bark, with hemlock. I'll do anything for some time longer, but my patience will, I see, after a certain time, be exhausted. As to poor Pierre, it is over with him. Sir Lucas says the disorder is past all remedy. This is a most distressful story to me, and how to supply his place I do not know.

With this letter a correspondence, unique and delightful, extending over many years, ends. At its close we may well recall Lord Carlisle's words written fourteen years before, "I shall always be grateful to fortune," he said, ". . . for having linked me in so close a friendship with yourself, in spite of disparity of years and pursuits." Selwyn returned to London shortly before Christmas, and died on the 25th of January, 1791. On this very day Walpole, with a touching simplicity and truth, wrote to Miss Berry, "I am on the point of losing, or have lost, my oldest acquaintance and friend, George Selwyn, who was yesterday at the extremity. These misfortunes, tho' they can be so but for a short time, are very sensible to the old; but him I really loved not only for his infinite wit, but for a thousand good qualities."