GEORGE SELWYN AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. THE REV. DR. WARNER TO GEORGE SELWYN. DEAR SIR, Wednesday evening, January 20, 1779. YOUR poor spy at Paris has just crawled out of bed to have it made, and to tell you, (having no quilted jacket to write with in bed, nor any nurses but the porter of the hotel, and the Savoyard at the gate,) that the foolish little fever, consequent upon a most severe cold, is subdued, and that he intends to get up to-morrow like a man. But are you not, sir, monstrously pleased (I hope you are, sir, because I am,) with the mot of old Patris, that Madame de Sevigné tells us of, who, still in his bed, upon being congratulated by his friends upon his recovery from an illness, answered coolly, "Est-ce la peine de se r'habiller!" I crawled out of bed, I say, to tell VOL. IV. A you that I have nothing to tell you but what might have waited till next post; and you would have forgiven me, I know, if I had been silent. West and Lowe, the prisoners at Aix, are come upon me. I have vowed and swore that I am sure you are hard at work for them, but that nothing can be done till a cartel is settled. Windsor, the gallant captain, who fought his ship so well, is gone home, they tell me, upon his parole, and they think they ought to do the same. Pray tell me what I shall say next. [Captain Windsor, "the gallant captain alluded to in this letter, was the Hon. Thomas Windsor, second son of Other Lewis, second Earl of Plymouth. The spirited action, referred to by Dr. Warner, deserves a passing notice. Captain Windsor, being in command of the Fox frigate, of twenty-eight guns, had been despatched to reconnoitre the movements of the French fleet. Whilst thus employed he fell in, on the 10th of September, 1778, with a French ship and a sloop, to which he gave chase, and during which he was borne down upon by a large French frigate mounting thirty-four guns, and in every respect vastly superior to his own vessel. Captain Windsor, however, gallantly engaged his adversary; and though eventually compelled to strike his colours, it was not till he had fought a hot and spirited action, which lasted three hours and a-half; till he had received a severe wound in his right arm; and till all his masts and guns had been disabled, and eleven of his crew killed and forty-nine wounded. Captain Windsor died on the 20th of February, 1793.] THE REV. DR. WARNER TO GEORGE SELWYN. Sunday evening, January 24, 1779. I THINK, sir, your affairs are in as fine train as they can be. As to the thing, which is really, nay, serious in its nature, your opus magnum, happily there is no room for the shadow of a doubt. You have hit me off exactly,-in angulo cum libello,—and as it is not very likely that I shall ever set my foot on a wide place," as the Psalmist saith, and with the number of pensioners I am crowded with, it is pretty lucky that I can while away time, not discontentedly, with a book in a corner. I'll assure you I will never want money to keep it warm,—at least with tobacco. 66 But, sir, I have just had a piece of good luck here. This poor girl of a sister that I have here was not in a way either to her mind or mine, and I was afraid of having her again entirely upon my hands, from which, indeed, she has never been entirely off. The best thing in the world were to marry her to some little marchand,-the honestest I could find,-and I was determined to give her a portion of deux mille écus:-a young lady, you see, of great beauty and fortune, for whom we wanted a man, and the Abbé Raynal had promised to look out for one for me. But, behold, she has found a parti for herself; a parti with whom she says she shall be very happy; and as she is sure I wish her happy she should not have made so heavy a fuss as she did about making me acquainted with it, and fearing my anger, and I do not know what; especially as she is going to be married to heaven. All the portion she asks is only my picture on a snuffbox. I suppose I must make a little addition, and put something in the box, as I do not know whether they have agreed to find her in snuff and pin-money. You will suppose that the dialogue between the Protestant Divine and his newly-converted sister was curious. When one knows so many good people of her religion, how could one be angry ? She was lately at confession, it seems, at St. Eustache,* when I passed through the church, *The church of St. Eustache is situated at the eastern end of the Rue Coquillière in Paris, and is the parish church of the third arrondissement. It is the largest place of worship in Paris, except Notre Dame, and is considered as the finest specimen in the French capital of the style known in France as la Renaissance des Arts, and in England as the Elizabethan Italic. |