Part 24 (1/2)
The const.i.tutional 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 Sat.u.r.day 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 Vand.y.k.e 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 pa.s.sage, which makes one think, that instead of going into a n.o.bleman'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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sures 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 appet.i.t, 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 Dorsets.h.i.+re, 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 f.a.gniani (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.