at the
University, fashioned as nearly as might be on the mode of life of a
man about town. In 1740 he was appointed to the vague-sounding
office of Clerk of the Irons and Surveyor of the Meltings in the
Mint, a sinecure which, after the manner of the time, required no
personal attention from the 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
ha