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.