George Selwyn: His Letters and His Life Part 12

Anthony Storer to Lord Carlisle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

We are playing tres gros jeu, and in every way a losing game.

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

Little of Selwyn's correspondence in 1776 and 1777 has been preserved. Possibly he wrote less, and made a long stay at Castle Howard. "I have more bon jours and bon soirs for her en poche,"

referring to his little child-friend, Caroline Howard, "than I shall be able to give her during the whole time I shall stay at Castle H."

For the despatch of political news he trusted, as he often did, to Storer. "I hope that Storer gives you a more particular account of what is said in the House than I can do. What is he employing himself about? Why won't he attempt to say something? What signifies, knowing what Cicero said and how he said it, if a man cannot open his mouth to deliver one sentence of his own?" But Storer, like many able and cultivated men, was more critical of his own powers than those who want both talent and knowledge. He was not, however, altogether neglectful of Selwyn's wishes, and he presently sent Carlisle some political news, but of no great interest.

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

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

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

I have, at another part of my day, a scene, which time or use cannot reconcile to me. I see my mother's strength grow less every day, without any consolation, but that her mind does not decay with it.

In short, my dear Lord, as I have often told you, j'ai l'esprit et le coeur trop fraca.s.ses for me to be happy at present, and all I can say is that I might, by untoward accidents, be more miserable, and these are removed from my view pour le moment; but I wait for a period of time when I shall be relieved from uncertainty of what may happen, and when I may live and breathe without restraint and apprehension. That period will, as I imagine, arrive in about two months, and till then les a.s.surances les plus fortes sont trop faibles pour mon repos.

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

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

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

Richard, I hear, goes in about a fortnight. Fish Craufurd thinks, as I am told, that Lord O(ssory?) should pay his debts; that is, give him 40,000 pounds from his own children, pour le delivrer des Juifs.

He pays already to one of them out of his 300 pounds a year, which he meant to have paid to his brother for a more comfortable maintenance.

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

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

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

"With joy and wonder struck the parties rise!

'h.e.l.l is worth trying for' . . . cries; Pigeons are left unpluck'd, the game unplay'd,

And F forgets the certain Bett he made; E'en S-l-n feels Ambition fire his breast And leaves half told, the fabricated Jest.

The murmurs hush'd--the Herald straight proclaim'd S-l-n the witty next in order nam'd, But he was gone to hear the dismal yells Of tortur'd Ghosts and suffering Criminals, Tho' summoned thrice, he chose not to return, Charmed to behold the crackling Culprits burn With George all know Ambition must give place When there's an Execution in the case." (pp. 3 and 17.)

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

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

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

I saw Horry W(alpole) yesterday for a few minutes; his distresses are, Lord O(rford's) lunacy, and the d.u.c.h.ess of Gloucester's situation if his R(oyal) H(ighness) dies, who will probably come and die in his own country. I wish these were mine, and I had no other, but we cannot choose our own misfortunes; if we could, there is n.o.body who would not prefer being concerned for a mad nephew whom they did not care for, or a simple Princess whom they would laugh at, si l'orgueil ne s'en meloit pas.

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

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

There was no news last night, and but little play. Boothby loses regularly his 300, and, if he had a run in his favour [has] n.o.body to furnish him with materials to profit by it. Lady Harriot came again to fetch her husband in their vis a vis, and I crammed myself in too. I left Draper and Sir C. Davers travelling through the worst roads of Canada, Triconderaga (sic), and the Lord knows what country. But it was so tiresome that I was glad to leave them in the mud in[to] which their conversation had carried them.

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

Mademoiselle D'Eon goes to France in a few days; she is now in her habit de femme, in black silk and diamonds, which she received from the Empress of Russia, when she was in the army and at her Court as minister, A German of her acquaintance has promised Lady Townshend to contrive that she and I shall have a sight of her before she goes. She met her grandson coming to town in a chaise and four, ventre a terre, from Brighthelmstone; he dined with us. Storer's attachment at present, as he says, is to Lady Payne. O'Brien gets 9,000 pounds a year, and the t.i.tle, by Lord Inchiquin's death.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every kind of house has been offered to me, to induce . . .

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

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

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

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