George Selwyn: His Letters and His Life

by George Augustus Selwyn

(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