George Selwyn: His Letters and His Life. George Augustus Selwyn
he did not complain of this, for he knew it would be useless, but he disliked to be regarded as an habitual jester or as possessing an unnatural taste for horrors.*
* "George, as soon as the King had spoken to him, withdrew and went away, the King then knighted the ambitious squire. The King afterwards expressed his astonishment to the group-in-waiting that Mr. Selwyn should not stay to see the ceremony, observing that it looked so like an execution that he took it for granted Mr. Selwyn would have stayed to see it. George heard of the joke, but did not like it: he is, on that subject, still very sore." ("Journals and Correspondence of Lord Auckland," vol. ii. p. 210).
But another and more widespread habit is often referred to in his letters. The gambling which Selwyn disapproved, but indulged in for years, is constantly alluded to in his correspondence. The hold which this vice had upon nearly every one who regarded himself as belonging to the best society of London has never been more clearly and vividly depicted than in Selwyn's letters. It was the protest—always varying, always taking new forms, but always present—against the monotony of life. Fortunes were nightly lost at Brooks's and White's, and substantial sums were gambled away by ladies of position and of fashion in the most exclusive drawing-rooms in order to kill time. Selwyn himself was a sagacious and careful man; but he was nevertheless a moderate gambler; he always perceived the folly of it; and yet for a great many years, he was constantly risking part of by no means a large fortune. The green table was the Stock Exchange and turf of the time, men and women frequented the clubs and drawing-rooms where the excitement of gambling could be enjoyed as they now flock to the race-course or telegraph to their brokers in Throgmorton Street. The nobleman now enjoys his pleasure side by side with the publican, and his example is followed by his servants on the course. Gambling in Selwyn's time was more select—a small society governed England and gambled in St. James's Street, while in more democratic days peers, members, and constituents pursue the same excitement together on the race-course or in the City. Great as were the sums which were lost at commerce, hazard, or faro, they were less than the training-stable, the betting-ring, and the stock-jobber now consume; and the same influences which have destroyed the Whig oligarchy and the King's friends have changed and enlarged the manner and the habit of gambling in England.
Of Selwyn the humourist it would be easy to collect pages of witticisms. Walpole's letters alone contain dozens of them, and there is not a memoir of the eighteenth century in which is not to be found one of "George's" jokes. Though often happy, as when seeing Mr. Ponsonby, the Speaker of the Irish Parliament, parting freely with bank-notes at Newmarket, he remarked, "How easily the Speaker passes the money bills," or, as when Lord Foley crossed the Channel to avoid his creditors, he drily observed that it was "a passover not much relished by the Jews," yet their repetition now is tiresome.
Manner and appearance assisted his wit, an impassive countenance hid his humour so that his sallies surprised by their unexpectedness. He knew how to appropriate opportunity, and saw the humour of a situation. A reputation for wit is thus gained not only by what is said, but by the mere indication of the ridiculous. This it is impossible to reproduce, and the celebrity of Selwyn as a wit must be allowed to rest on the opinion of his contemporaries.
"Je suis bien eloignee," wrote Madame du Deffand, in 1767, who, of those who knew him, has left us the most finished portrait, "de croire M. Selwyn stupide, mais il est souvent dans les espaces imaginaires. Rien ne le frappe ni le reveille que le ridicule, mais il l'attrape en volant; il a de la grace et de la finesse dans ce qu'il dit mais il ne sais pas causer de suite; il est distrait, indifferent; il s'ennuierait souvent sans une tres bonne recette qu'il a contre l'ennui, c'est de s'endormir quand il veut. C'est un talent que je lui envie bien; si je l'avais, j'en ferais grand usage. Il est malin sans etre mechant; il est officieux, poli; hors son milord March, il n'aime rien: on ne saurait former aucune liaison avec lui, mais on est bien aise de l'encontrer, d'etre avec lui dans le meme chambre, quoi qu'on n'ait rien a lui dire." *
* "Correspondance complete de Mme. du Deffand," vol. i. p. 87.
There is a popular idea that in the eighteenth century England and France were essentially hostile nations, immemorial enemies, yet at no time had there been more sympathy between two sections of society than there existed between the governing and fashionable men and women of Paris and London; in literature, art, and dress they held the same opinions. Englishmen braved the Channel and underwent the fatigue and trouble of the two land journeys with cheerfulness in order to enjoy the society of St. Germain. They were received not as strange travellers, but as valued friends.
Of this francophile feeling of the eighteenth century Selwyn was the most remarkable example. He was as much at home in the salon of Mme. du Deffand, or at one of President Henault's famous little dinners, as in the drawing-room of Holland House or the card-room at Brooks's. He introduced Walpole and Crawford to French society, adding to the social and literary connection between Paris and London during a time when political ties were broken. He was a favourite, too, with the French Queen.* Under date of February 10, 1764, the Earl of March writes to him from Fontainebleau: "The Queen asked Madame de Mirepoix—si elle n'avoit pas beaucoup entendu me dire de Monsieur Selwyn et elle? Elle a repondu, oui, beaucoup, Madame. J'en suis bien aise, dit la Reine."
* Maria Leschitinskey, daughter of Stanislaus, King of Poland, and
Queen of Louis XV.
The correspondence of Mme. du Deffand contains frequent allusions to the intimacy between the first English and French society of the period. David Hume, Lord Ossory, Lady Hervey, Lord March, the Duke of York,* and other well-known English names, are mingled with Rousseau, Voltaire, d'Alembert, and the Duc and Duchesse de Choiseul. This oddly assorted company moves in the world of M. de Maurepas and of the Duc d'Aiguillon, and is seen in the charming salons of Mme. Geoffrin and Mme. d'Epinay; the beauty of Lady Pembroke is commented on, the charm of Lady Sarah Bunbury analysed, Lady Grenville eulogised.
* Edward, Duke of York (1739–1767), brother of George III., visited Paris the summer of 1767, on his way to Italy, where he died Sept. 17th.
There is an irresistible fascination in the study of the men and women of the eighteenth century of France and England; they, their manners and customs, have disappeared for ever, but Gainsborough's gracious women, Sir Joshua Reynolds's charming types, and Romney's sensitive heads, have in England immortalised the reign of beauty of this period; in France the elegance and grace of the time are shown in the canvases of Greuze, Vanloo, and Fragonard, in the cupids and doves and garlands which adorned the interiors of Mme. de Pompadour.
It was a time of great intellectual development and progress in both countries. It was the epoch of the salons, of the philosophers and encyclopaedists, of a brilliant society whose decadence was hidden in a garb of seductive gaiety, its egotism and materialism in a magnificent apparelling of wit and learning. Literary standing in France at once gave the entree to society of the highest rank and to circles the most exclusive. David Hume, whose reputation as philosopher and historian, had been already established there, was received with enthusiasm when he accompanied Lord Hertford to Paris as Secretary of Embassy, though his manner, dress, and speech were awkward and uncouth; but his good-humoured simplicity was accepted and appreciated as was his learning. He had begun in England a correspondence with the Comtesse de Boufflers, he was made welcome too in the salons of Mme. Geoffrin and of Mile, de Lespinasse, and he soon became intimate with d'Alembert and Turgot. His reception was no less cordial at court, where the children of the Dauphin met him, prepared with polite little speeches about his works. He had such admiration for Rousseau that he brought him to England, assisting him there in spite of Horace Walpole's ill-natured jest on the flight of the susceptible French philosopher.
During Burke's visit to Paris in 1773 he was often present at Mme. du Deffand's supper parties, who said that although he spoke French with difficulty he was most agreeable; here and at other salons he met the encyclopaedists and obtained the insight into French morals and philosophy which, in his case, strengthened conservative principles.
When "Clarissa Harlowe" appeared in Paris, the book created a sensation and was more talked of there than in England. Diderot compared Richardson, as the father of the English novel, to Homer, father of epic poetry. In England men of letters were far less recognised in society. Walpole remarked, "You know in England we read their