George Selwyn: His Letters and His Life | Page 4

holder. Even in those early days
Selwyn, who went by the sobriquet of "Bosky," had many friends--not
only among college boys, but in London society. "You must judge by
what you feel yourself," wrote Walpole to General Conway, the soldier
and statesman, on the occasion of a severe illness from which Selwyn
suffered in 1741, "of what I feel for Selwyn's recovery, with the
addition of what I have suffered from post to post. But as I find the
whole town have had the same sentiments about him (though I am sure

few so strong as myself), I will not repeat what you have heard so much.
I shall write to him to-night, though he knows, without my telling him,
how very much I love him. To you, my dear Harry, I am infinitely
obliged for the three successive letters you wrote me about him, which
gave me double pleasure, as they showed your attention for me at a
time that you knew I must be so unhappy, and your friendship for
him."* But then came an interval in Selwyn's academic career--if such
it may be called--since he was certainly in Paris, much in want of
money, at the end of 1742 and the beginning of 1743. It is probable that
he had gone down from Oxford for some irregularity; he ultimately was
obliged to leave the University for the same reason. For though he
re-entered his college in 1744 he only remained there until the
following year, when he was sent down for an irreverent jest after
dinner, having taken more to drink than was good for him. His friends,
especially Sir Charles Hanbury Williams and some in authority at
Oxford also, thought that Selwyn was harshly treated. Whether that
were so or not this was the end of his University career. It was not a
promising beginning of a life, and for some years he was regarded as a
good-natured spendthrift. The death of his elder brother and father
however in 1751 produced a sense of responsibility, but even before
this date he had been endeavouring to regain his father's goodwill. "I
don't yet imagine," wrote his friend, Sir William Maynard, shortly
before the death of Colonel J. Selwyn, "you are quite established in his
good opinion, and if his life is but spared one twelvemonth you may
have an opportunity of convincing him you are in earnest in your
promises of a more frugal way of life." As too often happens the son
had not time in his father's lifetime to regain his good opinion.
Certainly Selwyn made no attempt to give up pleasure, though he was
bent on it no doubt with a more frugal mind. He was a man of fashion
and of pleasure, having his headquarters in London, paying visits now
and again to great country houses as Trentham and Croome. To Bath he
went as one goes now to the Riviera. In Paris too he delighted; when in
the autumn of 1762 the Duke of Bedford was in France negotiating the
treaty which is known in history as the Peace of Paris, it was Selwyn
who accompanied the Duchess when she joined her husband. "She sets
out the day after to-morrow," wrote Walpole on September 8th,
"escorted to add gravity to the Embassy by George Selwyn." After the

treaty was completed on February 10th of the following year, as a
memento of his visit the Duke presented Selwyn with the pen with
which this unpopular document was signed.* Indeed in those days he
was constantly in Paris, much to the regret of his friends at home--"Do
come and live among your friends who love and honour you," wrote
Gilly Williams to him in the autumn of 1764, but in spite of their
wishes he stayed on throughout the winter in the French capital, and
when his friend Carlisle went in 1778 to America as a peace
commissioner Selwyn tried to console himself for his absence by a stay
in Paris. "George is now, I imagine, squaring his elbows and turning
out his toes in Paris," wrote Hare to Carlisle in December of that year.
Neither politics nor pleasure could prevent continual and long visits to
France.
* Horace Walpole to H. S. Conway, Florence, March 25, 1741.
* Bedford Correspondence, vol. iii. P. 206.
The charming country estate and house which he had inherited from his
father had little attraction for Selwyn, and to the end of his life, if he
could not be in town, he preferred Castle Howard, or indeed any house
where he would meet with congenial spirits. "This is the second day,"
he once wrote to Carlisle, "I am come home to dine alone, but so it is,
and if it goes on so I am determined to keep a chaplain,