The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-07-22

honor to govern as; who inherited their
boIoUPhs, took their ease in their pate
and slipped Lord Norih's bribes go eieg anI,gS
> under their rufieA-we make acquaintance WIN WIN
hundred OF these 6ue folks hear tneiI tlH slio
laughter, read of their loves quarTe,o, i{ye a
debts, dues, divorces; can FANCY yue, ~, attcnd
we read the book long enough. we can "a 5UIeuu nv
at Duke Hamiltou's wedding, ana Dehoiu m nl,n a
marry his bride with tne SGouatbbed. We can see
Charles Fox cursing over the cards, or March
bawlipp out the odds at Newmarketi we can
,maoine Burpoyne tripping of from st. James
sfreet to conouer the Americans, and sinking
hack into the club somewhat crestfallen after
his beating; we can see the young king dressing
himself Tor the drawingroom and asking ten
thousand questions regarding all the gentlemen;
we can have high life or low, the struggle at
the Opera to behold the Voletta or the Zam-
| perini-the Macaronies and the fine ladies in
their chairs troopng to the masquerade or
! Madame Cornely s'-the crowd at Drury Lane to
| look at the body of Miss Ray, whom Parson
Hackman mas Just pistolled-or we can peep into
Newgate, where poor Mr.. Rice, the forger, is
waiting his fate and his supper. "You need not
be particular about the sauce for his fowl y says
one turnkey to another, "ior you know he is TO
! be hanged in the morning." "Yes,n replies the
! second janitor, tout the chaplain sups with him.
| and he is terrible fellow tor melted butter ~
Selwyn has a chaplain and parasite-one DR..
| warner than whom Plautus, or Ben Jonson, or
Hogarth never painted better character. In
letter after letter he adds fresh strokes to the
portrait of himself and completes a portrait not
little curious to look at, now that the man has
In which he revelled, played out; all the rouged
faces into which he leered, worms and skulls;
all the fine gentleman whose shOebuckles he
kissed, laid In their coflns. This worthy clergy
man takes care to tell us that he does not believe
in his religion, though thank Heaven, he is not
so great rogue as a lawyer, He goes on MIR.
Selwyns errands-any errands-and is proud,
he says, to be that gentleman's proveditor. He
waits upon the Duke OF Queensberry-old O.
and exchanges pretty stories with that aristo-
crat He comes home latter bard days
OH hog 20 h,.,
before sitting down to whist and partridges for
supper. He revels in the thoughts of ox-cheek
and Burgundy; he is boisterous, uproarious
parasite, licks his masters shoes with explosions
OF laughter and cunning smack and gusto, and
likes the taste Of that blacking as much as the
best ciaret in old Q.'s cellar. He has Rabelais
aud HORACE at his greasy fingers ends He is
ineXpressibly mean; curiously Jolly; kindly and
good natured in secret-a tender-hearted knave
not venomous lck-spittle. Jesse says tnat at
his chapel in Long Acre che attained con-
siderable popularity by the pleasing, manly, and
eloquent style OF his delivery Was infdelity
endemic, and corruption in the air? Around a
young king, himself Of the most exemplary life
ana pndoubted pety, lived a court society as
absolute as our country ever knew. George IFS
bad morals bore their fruit in George lips early
years; as believe that knowledge of that good
mans example, his moderation, his frugal SIM
pllclty and God-tearing life, tended infinitely TO
improve the morals OF the country and purify
the whole nation.
After Warner the most interesting of Selwyn's
correspondents is the Earl of Carlisle, grand
father OF the amiabe nobieman at present Vice
roy in Ireland. Tie grandfather too was Irish
viceroy, having previously been treasurer of the
kings household, and, in 1878, the principal
commissioner for treating, consulting, and
agreeing upon the means of quieting the dvl-
slons subsisting in his majestys colonies, plan
tatlons, and possessions in North America. You
may read his lordship's manifestoes in the Royal
New York Gazette. He returned to England,
having by no means quieted the colonies, and
speedily afterwards the Royal New York Gazette
somehow ceased to be published.
This good, clever, kind, highly-bred Lord
Carlisle was one of the English fine gentlemen
who was wellnigh ruined by the awful de-
bauchery and extravaganza which prevailed in
the great English society of those days. Its dis
soluteness was awful; it had swarmed over
Europe after the peace; it had danced and
raced and gambled in all the courts. 1t had
made its bow az Versailles: it had run its horses
on the PLAIN of Sablons, near Paris, and created
the Anglo-nania there; it had exported vast
quantities of pictures and marbles from Rome
and Florence; it had ruined itself by building
great galleries and palaces for the reception of
the statues and pictures; it had brought over
singing-women and dancing-women from all the
operas OF Europe, on whom my lords lavished
their thousands, while they left their honest
wives and honest children languishing in the
lonely, deserted splendors OF the castle and
park at home.
Besides the great London society of those days.
there was another unacknowledged world, eX-
travaeant beyond measure, tearing about in the
pursuit OF pleasure; dancing, gambling, drink
ing singing; meeting the real society in the
public places lat Ranelaghs, VauXhalls, ana
Ridottos, about which our old novelists talk so
constantly, and outlying the real leaders OF
fashion in luxury, and splendor, and beauty.
For instance, when the famous Miss Cunning
visited Paris as Lady Coventry, where she eX-
pected that her beauty would meet with the ap-
plause which had followed her and her sister
through England, it appears she was put 10
Hight by an English lady still more lovely in the
| eyes OF the Parisians. certain Mrs. Pitt took
q box at the opera opposite the countess, and
was so much handsomer than her ladyship that
| the parteIre cried out that this was the real
English lady, Whereupon Lady Coventry quilted
| Paris in huff The poor thing died presently
of consumption, accelerated, 1t was said, by the
red and white paint with which she plastered
| those luckless charms of hers. 1--WE must re-
| present 10 ourselves all fashionable female
Europe at that time as plastered with white and
| raddled with red.) She LETT two daughters be-
| hind her, whom George Selwyn loved Che was
| curiously fond of little children), and who are
| described very drolly and pathetically in thee
letters, in their little nursery where passionate
| little Lady Fanny, If she had not good cards,
| flung hers into Lady Mary's face; and where
they sat cOnspiring how they should receive a
new mother-in-law, whom their papa presently
brought home. They got on very well with
their motheT-in-laW, who was very kind to
them; and they grew up, and they were mar
ried, and they were both divorced afterwards
poor little souls Poor PAINTED mother poor
society ghastly in its pleasures, its loves, It's
revelries
As for my lord commissioner, we can afford
to speak about him; because though he was
a wild and weak commissioner at one time,
though ne hurt his estate, though he gambled
and lost ten thousand pounds at q sittng-"dve
! times more" says the uDlucky gentleman, "than
ever lost before;p though he swore he never